by A. J. Sikes
“Yeah, as you were saying,” the punk girl interrupted. “If the military can be trusted. Like, you know they’re probably the ones that did this, right? It’s, like, the fucking military is always experimenting and shit. Making up zombie plagues to go and fuck up the other guys, except now they’ve fucked us in—”
“Miss,” Meg finally said, with a hand up for the girl to stop. “You need to watch your language. There are young people in the room. Some even younger than you. As for the disease, we don’t know exactly where this came from or why. But we do know how. It’s not Ebola, but it is a similar virus. That’s what the soldiers I’ve spoken to told me. It is spread by a blood borne pathogen. So from now on, we stay away from the chief’s office and nobody touches anything that’s got blood on it. When help comes, we’ll signal them with the station alarm and open the shutters to let them in.”
“What if it isn’t help?” the punk girl asked. She was still clearly on edge, but she’d softened a bit from her earlier outburst.
“If it isn’t help, we have the hose. Eric, Rex, and I will keep watch during the night. The rest of you should split up, take the extra turnout jackets for protection and warmth. Some of you can go upstairs to the dorm room or the day room and get some sleep. The rest will have to stay down here. I’m sorry we don’t have more space.”
Meg could tell an argument was about to start about who should get the upstairs, and whether Rex or Eric would get the captain’s office while Meg took the engineer’s bed. Abeer sat up straight, but her face told Meg she was worried for her safety. Meg cleared her throat and added to her last statement.
“Unless you feel like you can fight, you should go upstairs. If you do think you can fight, we’ll get you a full turnout suit and an axe.”
“Um, Meg,” Rex said, coming back from where he’d been standing by the shutter doors. “It looks like somebody’s out there now. I don’t think it’s—I mean, it’s more survivors. I think.”
“He thinks,” the punk girl said. “Or he knows? We’re not letting anyone in here.”
“We’re doing what it takes to stay alive and to help anyone we can,” Meg said, silencing the blue haired girl with a look.
“Show me, Rex.”
Meg followed the man’s heavy tread as he went down the floor to the shutters. He stood on tip toe and peered out, coming back down with a nod of his head.
“Yep. Looks like two of ours. They’re at the engine.”
Meg went up on the shutter and looked outside. The sky was overcast and the skyscrapers threw deeper shadows onto the street in front of the house. But Meg could pick out the two firefighters over by the crashed engine. They wore full turnout gear and were digging through materials that had spilled from the truck when it slammed into the parked car. One of them came up with a Nomex mask and quickly strapped it on.
“They’re okay,” Meg said. “We have to get them inside. Now!”
Sunnyside, Queens
Jed’s shots went into the sidewalk, missing the monster completely. It skittered to its right and leaped up on the wall of the house. Jed put his back against the van and held his weapon up. Even thought it was empty, it was the only thing between him and death.
The monster stared at Jed with those narrow yellow cat eyes. It hissed at him through its ugly ass sucker mouth and tensed like it would jump for the van behind him. Jed almost took a hand off his weapon to reach for his ammo pouch. But the creature kept flicking its tongue around its puffy lips as it watched him. He couldn’t risk changing magazines now. He could try for the Glock on his hip, but he knew if he moved his hands off the rifle, it would jump. It kept flicking its glare back and forth from Jed’s muzzle to the top of the van.
It knows the weapon is a threat. It knows what a gun can do.
Fine, so the monsters were smart. They knew a threat when they saw one. Jed had to hope they didn’t know how to count bullets, otherwise he was done. He kept his aim on the ugly beast’s face and waited for it to move. It did, but not in the direction he thought it would.
Jed lifted his aim, thinking the monster was going to jump for the van and get behind him. But it just lifted up and leaped forward, landing on the sidewalk right in front of Jed.
“Shit!” Jed screamed.
He backed up tighter against the van and slid along its length, trying to get some distance before the monster jumped at him again. It just sat there, though, staring at him, like it was toying with him.
Jed had to risk reloading. He reached a shaking hand to his ammo pouch and unclipped it. The monster still sat on the sidewalk staring at him.
Okay, so they don’t know what makes the gun go bang. That’s good.
Jed had the pouch open and was slipping a magazine out when he heard the clicking sound behind him. He spun around just as another one swiped at his head from on top of the van.
A clawed hand went by Jed’s face so close he could smell the stink of rotting fruit coming off its skin. He lifted his rifle up to block the next hand that came for him. He felt the thing strike out at his weapon and grab hold of it. Then he heard the clicking and popping of joints from the one on the sidewalk behind him. It was closing in fast. Jed almost twisted his own neck trying to get a look at it, but he had to keep an eye on the one on the van. It had his weapon held tight.
Jed pulled back on the M16, then felt the rifle yanked out of his grip, leaving him empty-handed. He tumbled against the van, nearly fell over his own feet, but just got away from the grabbing hands behind him. He snapped a hand at the holster on his hip and tugged on the Glock. He had it halfway out, but fumbled it when something caught his LBE and yanked. He was hauled backwards and thrown up against the van so hard he lost his breath. The Glock clattered to the sidewalk and under the van.
Jed put a hand out and closed his eyes, knowing it was hopeless. He was fucked.
“Get down!” someone shouted from just down the street. Gunfire popped out and Jed heard bullets zipping by him. He waited, opening his eyes and staring at the one in front of him, hoping it would go down. But the rounds all missed. The monster looked like it was dancing as it roved back and forth across the sidewalk, flicking its head in the direction of the shooter and then looking back at Jed.
More gunfire came, and still missed, but chips of concrete flecked up against the van and peppered Jed’s legs. The monsters split up. Jed heard the one on the van jump away, throwing Jed’s rifle into the street as it did. The plastic clatter made his heart sink. He could go for the Glock, but it was under the van, and the one on the sidewalk stayed close, stalking him from just a foot away, like a cat around a mouse. He didn’t dare drop to all fours and try to fish the gun out of the gutter.
Jed felt the warm trickle of piss down his leg, and the monster seemed to sense it. It stopped and lifted its nose, sniffing at the air and coming closer. Jed could smell its funky skin, like moldy fruit all warm and thick. It shrieked at him, spattering his boots with saliva.
Then its head vanished in a spray of blood and bone as the pa-pa-pop of a three-round burst echoed in Jed’s ears.
He stayed up against the van, half-crying and half ready to just fall to his knees and give the fuck up.
I didn’t sign up for this. Didn’t sign up for none of this.
He wasn’t even in the Marines anymore; and if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to take the fight to monsters.
Fucking nuke ‘em, just burn ‘em out.
“Gotta just burn ‘em out,” he said through his sobs and tears.
“What’s your name?” someone asked from a few feet away. “You hit? Did it get you?”
Jed kept mumbling about burning the things up, talking into his shirt. But whoever was yelling at him clearly didn’t want to wait around.
“Hey, answer me or I’mma light you up to be safe.”
“No!” Jed shouted, toppling backwards as he moved from where he’d squatted down by the van. He slid along it again and ended up on his ass next to the body of the thi
ng that was about to eat his face off. A Marine with a weapon raised was coming toward him from a little ways down the sidewalk. Jed could see the body of the other monster behind the man.
“Stay back from the body!” the Marine yelled at Jed. “Do not make contact with the infected.”
Jed stopped moving and looked behind him. He’d nearly put his hand in the puddle of blood leaking out of the thing’s half gone head. He looked around the street and up at the rooftops. He didn’t see any of the monsters, and the gunfire and shrieking seemed to be tapering off nearby. Jed looked back at the Marine in front of him. He was a white guy, a little younger than Jed, and he had an M16 aimed at Jed’s chest. The dude’s rank wasn’t visible, so Jed just went with what felt right.
“I’m Welch. Private Welch. Was with the—” he tried to remember the unit he’d been assigned to by the First Sergeant back on the ball fields.
“You Army?” the Marine asked.
“Marines. I was—I’m out. Since Iraq. But the—Civil Affairs guys,” he said, remembering the unit name finally. “They set me up with some gear. Told me I could keep my Glock.” Jed made to reach under the van, but the Marine looked like he was ready to shoot him. Jed kept his hand away from the gun.
“What’re you doing here?” the Marine asked him. “Where’s your unit?”
“On the boulevard. They—We gotta go, man. There’s a ton of them things. Comin’ outta the apartments.” Jed jerked his head in the direction of Queens Boulevard.
The Marine lowered his rifle and offered a hand to help Jed up.
“You seem all right. My name’s Rainey. Go’on get your weapon. We’ll get back to my platoon.”
Jed looked at Rainey as the Marine stared off down the street. He seemed like he was keeping watch, but something in his face told Jed he had more on his mind.
“Your platoon’s around here?” Jed asked.
“Yeah. What’s left of ‘em,” Rainey said. “Let’s go, Welch. It’s quiet now. Won’t stay that way for long.”
Jed got up; he tried to cover the stain of piss on his crotch. Rainey didn’t notice, or didn’t say anything if he did. He turned and started away from the area, heading out at a trot. Jed went to grab the Glock, but he stopped short. Blood from the dead monster’s head drained down into the gutter off the edge of the sidewalk, covering the gun.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jed got to his feet and jogged around the van. He snapped up his rifle from where it had landed after the monster threw it in the street. It was banged up a little; one corner of the ejector cover was bent and the stock had a crack in it. Jed slapped a fresh magazine in and charged the weapon. It seemed to work fine, but Jed kept throwing nervous glances at the rifle as he ran to catch up to Rainey.
“Hey, I heard the Corps was clearing the city, mopping up the monsters.”
“Who told you that?” Rainey asked. He kept scanning their route, with his rifle up and ready. Jed followed suit before he replied.
“Some dickhead NCO back at the fields. That’s where the Civil Affairs guys were set up. My old school, man.”
Rainey didn’t reply. Jed was happy to have someone with him, but Rainey seemed like he’d rather keep quiet than talk about shit. Jed just kept his eyes on the street and rooftops as they moved.
They rounded corners and went down streets, all the while watching the rooftops and alleys between houses for any sign of the monsters. They went under Roosevelt Avenue and came into a neighborhood with more high rises and apartments. Jed noticed fewer and fewer curtains being moved aside, and more and more front doors and ground-floor windows smashed in.
And more blood and bodies lying on front walks and near cars still parked on the street, like people got taken out right as they were about to get away.
“They’re getting inside,” he said. “Getting everybody, man.”
“Yep,” was Rainey’s short reply. He kept his weapon shouldered and scanned as they moved. Left to right, up and down.
After a few blocks of stalking like that, Rainey put a hand up to hold position. Jed drew up against the nearest wall. They were next to a library on a corner, with a little park across the street in one direction, and a public school across the other street. Jed looked into the trees, thinking they should be over there instead of out on the damn street. They didn’t have any cover here, and Jed felt like a sitting goddamned duck in the open.
He started to say they should get hid somewhere, but Rainey swatted a hand backwards in the air while he scanned the street ahead.
Jed still didn’t know Rainey’s rank. The guy acted like he knew his shit, and Jed didn’t really mind taking orders from him either. It was just weird not knowing if the guy telling you to shut your hole was an NCO or a private.
“My platoon should be up ahead, Welch. Rally point was the park on the other side of that school. See it?”
Jed grunted to say he did. He knew the school. They were across from PS11.
Memo got jumped by some kids when he went here.
It was quiet and dark around the schoolyard. The closer Jed looked, the more he recognized the same signs of entry and damage as he had in the other buildings around them. He looked at the high rise building to the left of the school, and his breath caught in his throat.
“The—They ain’t still there,” he said, pointing at the high rise. The windows were all smashed out on the upper floors, and streaks of what had to be blood dripped down the side of the building from where people had either jumped through the glass or been thrown through it.
Rainey shook his head, and Jed didn’t miss his voice cracking a bit when he said, “Damn. Oh damn.”
“Hey,” someone shouted from the cluster of trees to their right. Jed and Rainey looked together, bringing their weapons up.
“Hold your fire,” the unseen speaker said. A second later a Marine came out from the trees with his own weapon up and at the ready. Rainey lowered his weapon a bit, but kept both hands on it. Jed did the same and waited for the other Marine to identify himself. Rainey handled the introductions for him.
“That you, Sergeant Townsend?”
“Yeah. Now c’mon get over here.”
Rainey moved out, giving Jed a half glance and nodding his head for him to follow. They crossed the street quickly and got under the trees with the NCO.
Sergeant Townsend was about Jed’s height, just under six feet. He was black and the look in his eyes told Jed he was a man you trusted. Something in how he held his head up and looked right at you. He didn’t seem to judge Jed for anything, and for a moment Jed forgot that he’d been trying to get away from the military and forget all about ever being a Marine.
“Who’re you, son?” Sergeant Townsend asked.
“Private Welch, Sergeant. I was with the Civil Affairs guys, but I used to be in the Corps. Got out and—”
“All right,” Sergeant Townsend said, putting up a hand. “All right. Don’t need your life story right now. ‘Used to be’ is as good as you are, am I right, Marine?”
Jed paused only a second before nodding and saying “Rah.”
The NCO chuckled, but it was a laugh like you’d give a homie. Jed couldn’t keep the smile off his face, so he turned his head left and right, looking at where they’d ended up and what was around them now.
“Where’s the rest of ‘em, Sergeant?” Rainey asked.
“Platoon got tore up. Me and Sergeant Baxter’s squad is all that’s left. They already moved out. I stayed back in case any of y’all came through.”
“Shit,” Rainey said. “Kehoe and Campbell gone?”
Sergeant Townsend just nodded. Rainey said something under his breath, and Jed heard that little catch in his voice again, like he was about ready to curl up and start crying for his baby bottle.
“C’mon now,” Sergeant Townsend said. “They gone so we can stay alive to remember ‘em. And I’m all outta straws, Marine.”
Rainey recovered a bit at that. Jed stayed quiet for a beat before he aske
d, “What’s the plan, Sergeant? Seems quiet now.”
And it was. The shrieking, if they heard any at all, was really far off, and they hadn’t heard any gunfire since before Roosevelt Avenue.
“Shit’s too quiet,” Sergeant Townsend said. “Got no radio contact, so we’re looking at a hump down to the East River and over Queensbridge. Should be a checkpoint this end. Headquarters Company set it up before they sent us out into this motherfucker. You seen combat, Welch?” he asked at the end, looking more closely at Jed’s uniform and weapon.
“Yeah—Yes, Sergeant. I was in Iraq.”
Sergeant Townsend didn’t seem to question Jed’s words. Or, if he did, he didn’t make any noise about it.
“C’mon,” the NCO said, leaving the cover of the trees and scanning the street in front of PS11. Jed and Rainey followed him out.
“We gotta move,” Sergeant Townsend said, stepping off down the sidewalk. “Checkpoint’s closing down at sunset.”
“What’s happening then?” Jed asked. He and Rainey had to jog to keep up with the NCO.
Sergeant Townsend picked up the pace a bit, and answered between breaths. “They pulling back to Manhattan,” he said. “And blowing the bridges.”
Upper East Side, Manhattan
With the two new firefighters, a man and a woman, safely inside, Rex helped Meg ratchet the shutters closed. Every creak and groan of the metal door was like an explosion in Meg’s ears. The firefighters they’d just welcomed told them to close the door as quietly as possible.
“They’re attracted to noise. Or sounds of any kind really,” the woman had said the instant she was inside. Her partner took the mask off while she introduced them. Her name was Rachel Beal. She was a few inches over Meg’s 5’ 8” frame and from her high, broad shoulders, Meg figured the woman was an athlete. Her dark skin and feline features made Meg think of her cat, Biggins.
She let the memory go and shook Rachel’s hand.
Rachel’s partner was almost a carbon copy of Rex, except his name was Jason Weekes and his hair was blond instead of red.
“Jason, Rachel,” Meg said. “Welcome to our little corner of hell.”
