by Jeff Olah
“I’m sorry?”
“Who are you looking for?”
Natalie took a step away. She bent slightly forward, trying to make eye contact. No luck. “We were separated a few miles back. My husband and my daughter are out there somewhere, and I don’t know where to go next.”
“Is your husband really tall,” Lucas flattened his palm, held his hand up a few inches above his own head. “A lot taller than your daughter?”
Something caught in her throat. Natalie swallowed hard and took a quick breath. “He’s six-foot three. Yes, he’s a lot taller than my little girl.”
“Dark shirt and jeans?”
That would have described nearly every male she’d seen since the world went to hell, although there was something that told her she needed to listen to the thin teenager. “Yes, did you see someone like that? Was he with a girl, maybe a foot shorter?”
From under the grey hoodie, Lucas nodded. He finally looked up, had a shy smile, like he couldn’t wait to get the word out. “Yes.” He straightened a bit, drew back the hoodie to the top of his head, and walked quickly to the wall at the edge of the lot. He pointed at a sixteen-story building three blocks away. “Over there.”
Her face started to warm, blood pulsing behind the lump on her forehead. “Is that where you saw them? Were they hurt?”
“I don’t know, it was too far, too early in the morning, too dark.”
Natalie told herself to remember the odds of what her mind was constructing. It didn’t matter, though; even a slight chance was something. “When did you see them?”
“Yesterday morning, just before the sun came up. I heard those things down there, they were getting all crazy again. I saw the man and the girl go into that building, but then a few minutes later, they came out and were running.”
Natalie motioned to Chuck, but stayed with Lucas. “Do you know which way they went? Did you see if they had a car?”
“No car or anything, they were walking and jogging until they came out of the building, then they were running. The man was yelling at the girl, but I couldn’t hear them.”
“Where did they go?”
Lucas turned back toward Sixth Street, scanned the long block from one end to the other. “They went over there, behind that building with the brick on the front. The girl was fast, faster than the man I think.”
He was describing her fourteen-year-old. She no longer had any doubt. If Ava was known for anything, it was her speed. Varsity track her first year of high school, she’d broken the record for the hundred-meter dash and the high hurdles. Owen hadn’t been able to keep pace with her for the last several months.
“Did either of them look hurt? Were they okay?”
Lucas continued to look out into the city. “I don’t think so, but I don’t really know. I’m sorry.”
Natalie wanted to hug him, and she’d never been the touchy-feely type, not even with Owen. However, as she let her thoughts run away at the possibility of getting back to her family, the moment took her. She moved to his side, threw her arm over his shoulder, and pulled him in.
Lucas immediately began to shake. He turned his eyes away, pulled his hood back down, and stepped away from her. “I’m sorry, I want to help. I just don’t know…” He stopped, looked like he wanted to continue, but was either caught off guard by the awkward show of affection or maybe still in his own head about whatever he’d been through over the last four days.
She stepped around him, tried to catch his eye, to make him see her face, if nothing else, to make him understand that she only wanted to thank him. Even if it turned into nothing, just the brief glimpse at something other than what this world was slowly becoming, was more than she could explain in words.
Lucas turned on his heels and started back toward the SUV, seemed to be running from the last exchange. He wiped at his face and pulling open the driver’s side door, finally looking up at her. “I can drive you.” He stopped and looked into the vehicle. “I don’t have anything to eat or any weapons, but if you want me to take you, I will.”
Chuck was now at her side. He leaned in, kept his voice low. “We should go, before he changes his mind. We can get to Cecil’s, see if they’ve made it there. If not, just double back and retrace our steps.”
There was movement to her left. Noah had tossed the cards, hurried away from the wall, and was beginning to run. He looked over the hood at her, but pointed back the way he’d come. “Mom, the monsters, they’re coming.”
Natalie took her son’s hand, offered Chuck a quick nod, and then returned to Lucas. “How long have you been driving?”
Pulling his hood completely away from his face and now back onto his shoulders, the teen jumped in behind the wheel. “I’m a good driver, I promise.”
Natalie hurried Noah into the backseat, and then followed Chuck around the front of the SUV. Now peering off toward the ramp from the fifth level, she nearly stumbled as the full picture of what her son had seen came into view.
She stopped counting at twenty-five. The number of walking corpses doubled just in the time it took her to climb in behind Chuck and fasten her seatbelt. And more poured out from the darkened garage and onto the roof with each passing second. To Lucas she said, “You’re going to have to stay to the right side of the ramp. There are more of those things, but no cars. And whatever you do, don’t stop until we’ve hit the street and we’re completely clear.”
32
Owen stood at the door with his right eye pressed into the peephole. He waited as the crowd of nearly a dozen turned away and started toward the far end of the hall. The ear-piercing alarm from the cheap digital watch had been echoing along the third floor for nearly a minute before he finally turned back to Kevin.
“Okay,” Owen said, “I think it’s time.”
Ava stood near the table, staring at the floor. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words since unsuccessfully attempting to respond to her brother’s text message and for the last several minutes appeared catatonic.
“Sweetheart, we’re gonna need to run.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t look up.
Kevin gripped the pair of collapsible batons, one in each hand, and looked from Owen to Ava and back to Owen. “Open the door and step back. I’ll go out first, take down any that turn around. You and Ava head for the stairs on the south side, those should be clear. Sound good?”
Owen nodded. He gripped the door handle, took one last look out into the hall, and then turned back to Ava. “You can do this, I promise.”
Nothing, she continued to stare blankly at the floor.
He raised his voice, increasing the intensity. “Ava, not now!”
With a quick flick of his wrists, Kevin extended the twenty-one inch batons and motioned toward the hall. “We don’t have time for this—it’s now or never. Your wife and your son—”
“You worry about yourself.” Owen leaned into the door, took one final look, and slowly twisted the handle. “We’re ready.”
As Owen pulled open the door, Kevin looked surprised, but then quickly stepped over the threshold and raised the batons. The crowd had yet to notice, although he continued away from the third-floor apartment, moving with the speed of a man half his size.
Ava looked up, her nose bright red, tears now flooding her eyes. She tried to speak, but no words came. She blinked a handful of times and then all at once her body went limp, crashing sideways to the cold linoleum in a heap.
“AVA!” Owen moved without thought. He dropped to one knee, scooped her from the floor, and tossed her limp body over his shoulder in a modified fireman’s carry. As he turned toward the hall, he noticed that Kevin had come back and now stood at the door.
“No,” Owen said, “We’re still doing this.”
Kevin nodded, and again disappeared into the darkened hall. There were rapid footfalls, deep guttural groans, and then his voice. “Owen go … now.”
With Ava’s hip pushed into his neck, Owen hooked the fingers of hi
s right hand though a belt loop near her lower back, pulled the Glock from his waist with his left, and moved to the door. He looked left and briefly watched as Kevin took apart a pair of Feeders.
The man who knocked on his door less than three hours before sidestepped a large male Feeder, twisted back, and swung the baton in his left hand. He struck the beast on the right side of its head, violently pushing in the side of its skull and sending it backward into the wall.
Owen held tight to Ava as he looked right and moved into the hall. Behind him more grunts and the sound of more bodies hitting the ground, by his count, there were at least a half dozen.
His back beginning to stiffen, Owen was ten strides from the door when the sounds of battle began to fade. He wanted to turn and look, but knew his strength had limits. He estimated he’d only be able to maintain his current pace for another minute or two. Anything beyond that and he’d be playing chicken with not only his own life, but also his daughter’s.
“Owen,” Kevin’s voice was deeper now, he was winded, “get to the first floor and wait. I’m right behind you. I’ll go out first.”
Owen moved out of the hall and into the stairwell, feeling odd trusting a man he really knew nothing about. However, if there was even a small chance he may get back to his wife and his son, he was willing to do just about anything.
At the edge of the landing, Owen used his boot to slide a cardboard box out of the way, and decided he wasn’t completely sold on his new friend. He slipped the Glock into his waistband once again, gripped the railing, and peered down into the nearly pitch-black stairwell. It was going to be like walking through oatmeal blindfolded, only he was also carrying a one-hundred-pound backpack. “Ava please, I need you to wake up.”
She wasn’t moving, and as his shoulder began to go numb, he was having trouble even feeling the rise and fall of her chest. “Come on Ava, please.”
“GO!” Kevin’s voice was much closer now. “We’ve got company.”
Without questioning exactly what that meant, Owen started down the first flight of stairs. He rounded the second landing just as Kevin crashed into the wall above. He couldn’t see the action from his current position, although the shockwave nearly took him from his feet.
Owen kept his eyes forward, his upper body at a slightly exaggerated angle and soon fell into a rhythm. Eight steps, turn left with the bend in the railing, eight more steps. He was making progress, but now needed to increase his pace. As he reached the landing between the first and second floors, Kevin had caught him.
“Owen, we have to move.”
Owen almost laughed. His lungs were on fire, his left knee threatened to give under the weight of his daughter, and on top of everything else, he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face. The only upside to this whole mess was that his mind hadn’t had the opportunity to focus on anything besides the immediate threat of death. And for the moment, the anxiety and depression that had been his co-pilot for the last several years had been given a much-needed reprieve. “Yeah, I’m working on it.”
“Work faster.”
They reached the first floor and Owen moved aside. He rested his hand on Ava’s back, only able to think about the fact that she’d gone limp over two minutes before, and still showed no signs of coming back. “Ava, I need you—”
“She’ll be fine.” Kevin took a few seconds to gather himself. He ran the twin batons over his pant leg and stood behind the door, taking long breaths in through his nose and stretching his shoulders. “My truck is just outside the front doors. I’ll make room. You get her to the rear passenger door, but don’t try to open it.”
“What?”
“Just stay to my right, and whatever you do, don’t run ahead.”
Owen nodded, but then realized neither man could really see the other. “You ready?”
“Let’s do this.”
Owen gripped the handle, pulled open the door, and stepped out behind Kevin. More than a dozen Feeders now occupied the lobby, and before he’d finished counting, the large man in the leather jacket went to work on a group of three near the elevator.
Kevin made quick work of the trio, taking them out with three vicious strikes to the head, nearly decapitating a large male dressed in tan khakis and a blue polo. He was agile for a man his size and moved with efficient grace, never using more force than was necessary. Once a specific threat was neutralized, he moved quickly and without remorse to the next.
There was a distinct methodology to Kevin’s movements, what looked to be an odd combination of tai chi and stick fighting. This obviously wasn’t his first rodeo. Push with the right, strike with the left, push with the right, strike with the left. It was almost an art form, beautiful to watch, had it not been for the ravenous monsters he was having to dispatch.
His new friend was a one-man wrecking machine.
When they were twenty feet from the door, Owen noted that Kevin had cleared the entire right side of the lobby, and now turned his back on the few that remained. Three slower moving males and a woman missing a leg. He motioned toward the street and said, “Let’s go.”
Out onto the sidewalk, Owen moved quickly to the black Ford F-250 and stood beside the rear passenger door listening to Ava slowly breathe in and out. As he turned back to see Kevin pushing closed the lobby doors, he reached for the handle.
“Wait,” Kevin said. “Just a second.”
Owen had lost all feeling in his right shoulder and his neck felt like there was a red-hot poker being driven directly into the base of his spine. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold—”
Kevin stepped around him. He keyed a remote, unlocking the doors, and tapped twice on the window. A moment later, there was the muzzle of a massive German Shepherd behind the glass. It looked from Kevin to Owen and then back to Kevin. “Heel.”
Owen stepped away.
Kevin pulled open the door, looked into the rear cab for a beat, and held up his right hand. “Down.”
As the German Shepherd backed to the other side of the bench seat and laid down, Kevin turned back to Owen. “I want you to meet Zeus, he’s a good boy.”
33
Natalie had Noah buckled in and now pulled into her side. She held him tight and watched from the backseat as the boy who’d nearly had a nervous breakdown only minutes before drove through a horde numbering somewhere in the hundreds.
“Remember to stay to the right.” The intensity of the moment beginning to wash over her, Natalie leaned in and pointed through the windshield. “Drive over them if you have to.”
Chuck turned in his seat, looked back at her, his eyes narrowed. Looking like he was going to disagree, his expression then softened. “She’s right. If you can’t get around them, you’re gonna have to go through them.”
Lucas didn’t respond. He kept his eyes forward and his hand gripped so tight to the wheel that his knuckles had gone white. He was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Natalie assumed he was possibly trying to prevent himself from losing consciousness, but knew from experience that pointing it out would only make matters worse.
“Mom?” Noah began to lift his head.
“Stay down sweetie, this isn’t anything you want to see.”
“But … but, I think I have to pee.”
“You’re going to have to hold it.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Noah, not right now.” Natalie shifted in her seat, slid toward the edge. She leaned over her son and pushed her head between the front seats.
“Oh boy.”
Chuck had seen it only a fraction of a second before her. The horde coming in from the third level spanned the width of the parking garage. They seemed to move as a unit, shoulder to shoulder, row upon row.
Natalie quickly sat back. “Chuck, we may have to get out.”
Lucas looked left, in between the concrete pillars. He turned back to the right, his head now on a swivel. “Should I stop?”
Noah sat up, looked throug
h the windshield, and then buried his face against the seat.
Natalie swung around, peering through the rear window. “Going back’s not going to be an option.” She tapped Chuck on the shoulder and spoke next to his ear to avoid any questions from her nine-year-old. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
As Lucas slowed the SUV, Chuck dropped his head, exhaling slowly through his mouth. He reached for the Beretta, then held it out for Natalie and forced a weak smile. “Not gonna do much good, but it’s all we got.”
Before she could ask, Chuck opened his door, and stepped out. “I’ll lead them to the stairs.”
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Once they clear you can get to the street; pick me up out on Sixth.”
She’d used what she’d learned over the past fifteen years to get him to play a part, but if she was being honest with herself, she needed him much more than he needed her. The thought had come to her once again. He’d saved her life more than once in the last few days, and then taken care of her son when she was unable to. And even now, he was putting his own life at risk to run a distraction in the hopes that she and her son would survive.
Guilt wasn’t an emotion she’d ever allowed herself to feel. In her line of work, it was classified as a career killer, a nonsensical reaction to the whims of others, something for the weak, an excuse for losing. It wasn’t her, it never was.
Not until today.
Natalie felt like she was going to vomit.
“Lucas,” she said, “give me a second.”
She laid the weapon on the seat, lowered her window and put her head out. “CHUCK, YOU DON’T—”
Chuck was already halfway to the stairs. “JUST GET TO THE STREET!” He cut left, dodged a small female Feeder, and without turning, sprinted the last twenty yards.
Before she could respond, Chuck reached the third-floor landing. He used a discarded soda can to bang on the railing before calling to the incensed crowd. “LET’S GO, COME ON … I’M RIGHT HERE!”
