by A. J. Sikes
“Why not? Two of them did just help us, right? And one of them was Little Miss Emo.”
“Sure, but most of them . . . they’ve never done anything like this. They’re the kind of people who expect people like you and me to do everything when the shit hits the fan.”
Meg looked at him for a breath before giving up. She didn’t have the energy to argue. And she knew he was sort of right.
Sort of.
The survivors were all exhausted, and some were probably close to a state of shock. Mental at least. Before they’d come upstairs, Meg scanned the group for signs of infection, but was happy to see a few of them had managed to fall asleep, even with Rex and Rachel hammering down there. The echo of their blows came up the stairs. As she and Jason got to work, Meg tried to keep her hammering as quiet as she could. She hadn’t seen any of the monsters outside yet, but daylight was fading.
They got the first set of windows covered before they had to make a trip for more lumber and nails from downstairs.
Jason took a break to use the bathroom first. Meg went downstairs ahead of him and sat on the bottom step. Eric was near the shutters, watching the street. He still had the hose with him, but kept it hanging over his shoulder now. Rex and Rachel were putting the last nails into a double layer of plywood on the chief’s office. That left them with one more sheet of plywood. Meg thought about taking it upstairs, but decided it would be better down here.
I hope we have enough to seal this place up for the night.
Over on the cots, Dayone and her daughter were asleep, and Mrs. Cannady looked like she was ready to nod off. Abeer huddled against the wall with her child, but Meg heard the woman’s soft cooing. Most of the others were already asleep, or just huddled together and looking scared.
The punk girl was in the corner at the back of the floor angrily swiping at a tablet she had across her knees.
“You’ve got service?” Meg asked.
“No,” the girl said, not looking up.
Meg left it at that. What good would it do? Meg could tell her to get some rest instead of playing some game or whatever the hell she was doing. She could also conserve what little patience she had left.
Might need it soon. We all might.
Jason came down and stepped past her. He went to where Rex and Rachel were finishing up. They exchanged a few words Meg didn’t catch. Then Jason wheeled the cart of wood over nearer to the stairs.
“We might need to come back down for more. Closer is better.”
Meg grunted a reply. She was losing her edge. Patience, hunger, fatigue. It was all settling onto her shoulders and pushing her closer to the floor. She stood up, stretched her arms, and shook herself awake.
“You okay?” Jason asked.
“Yeah. Just running on fumes.”
“Ditto,” he said, and lifted more two by fours onto his shoulder. Meg grabbed what she could carry and led the way upstairs.
“We’ll go next time,” Meg said once she and Jason were back upstairs. “Me and Eric. Or Rex. You shouldn’t have to take the risk every time.”
“What’s with Rex anyway? You don’t seem to like him much.”
That caught Meg off guard. She wasn’t used to people she didn’t know calling her out that way. Eric got away with it, but he was Eric. And Rex had nothing but clumsy flirting in his bag of tricks.
“He’s a probie, and . . . I don’t know. He’s not my people I guess.”
“We’re all each other’s people now, aren’t we? Probie or not.”
Meg paused. It really had come to this. Rex might be the one to save her life. That was always the case, but now it sunk in, and Meg had to accept it.
“Yeah. We are.”
They did the rest of the work in silence, except for the banging of the hammers as they drove nails into the two by fours over the last window. They’d created a grid work across the windows in the dorm room. It gave them another layer of protection, and allowed them to look outside without immediately showing themselves to whoever was out there. Meg corrected herself: Whatever was out there.
Those things aren’t people.
Jason lifted the final two by four into place while Meg drove the nails to hold it against the others. She had one end fixed and was moving to the other when she spotted one of them on top of a car across the street.
“Shit. They’re back.”
Jason edged back from the side of the window and peered around the boards they’d nailed up. He darted back quickly.
“I don’t think it saw us,” he said. “Get that end nailed in. Last one and we’re done.”
Meg hesitated. The first thing Rachel had said when they came in was that the monsters were attracted to noise.
Thank God they’re finished downstairs, otherwise . . .
“C’mon, Meg,” Jason said. “Last one. Let’s go.”
“It’ll hear us. Wait until it leaves.”
The thing still sat on the car with its head tilted back, like it was sniffing the air, swiveling its face side to side. Meg couldn’t see its eyes or sucker mouth at this distance, but she still had the image in her mind. The fading light cast weak shadows around the monster and made its white flesh even more ghastly to look at.
Should she hammer the nail in? It wasn’t even looking at their building. She put a nail to the wood and held the hammer ready. But she couldn’t stop looking out the window to watch the thing on the car. It leaped away and scrambled up the building across the street, slinking into a broken window like a trapdoor spider returning to its nest. Meg stared at the window as she lifted the hammer for a swing.
You’ll smash your thumb if you don’t watch what you’re doing. Then you’ll scream and make even more noise.
Meg focused on the nail head and swung the hammer.
Bang.
She looked back at the window. The monster hadn’t come back.
Bang.
She looked again. Still nothing but a dark empty window. Every window in the building across the street looked just the same. Broken, dark, and empty.
“C’mon,” Jason said. “Finish it up.”
Bang. Bang.
Something darted away in Meg’s peripheral vision. She couldn’t tell if it had come from the building, or if it was just a trick of the light, or her frightened anxious, exhausted mind playing tricks on her. Meg set a second nail to the board and hit it.
Bang.
Meg drove the rest of the nail in with rapid blows, not bothering to look out the window anymore. Jason grabbed the hammer he’d been using and went downstairs ahead of her. Meg hit the nail a final time before looking out the window. Her hand whipped up over her mouth as she backpedaled away and stumbled over the boot they’d carried the nail in. Across the street, at least a dozen of the monsters came scrambling out of the dark windows, leaping onto cars and the fire engine. And stalking their way across the street on a path leading directly to the station house.
Meg whipped around and flew down the stairs two at a time. She nearly bowled Rex over backwards as she descended. He had his gloves on.
“They’re at the front door. The locker,” he said. Meg heard the scratching and shrieking and it sounded like they were in the chief’s office. Rex’s face was a mask of panic. A sheen of sweat glistened across his brow and his jaw shook.
“Get it together, man,” Jason said. “We need those people upstairs.”
A louder banging followed and then a splintering sound. Meg heard Eric’s shouting mixed with a rush of water at the front of the app floor. Jason shoved Rex aside. Meg looked at the probie. He shivered, like he was ready to collapse from fright.
“Rex,” she said. His eyes moved to meet hers, but she could tell he wasn’t home. “Goddamnit.”
Meg pushed her way past him as screams echoed through the app floor.
Long Island City, Queens
Jed felt his finger slide from the housing to the trigger on his weapon. They’d made the turn onto Skillman and were going by the railyards aga
in. Sergeant Boon had let off him for a bit, but he could he the guy back there muttering under his breath in between grunting in pain.
The streets were chill at least. No sign of the monsters anywhere. But just his luck, Jed’s side of the truck faced the neighborhood, with its broken windows, cars and trucks smashed together on the sides of the streets. It looked like somebody ran a bulldozer through the neighborhood and just shoved everything that wasn’t alive out of the way. The street the convoy had come down was clear, but the farther down Skillman they went, the more Jed realized just how messed up New York had become.
It’s like the apocalypse is finally here. Shit’s just tore up everywhere.
“Yo, Welch,” Boon said. “So you’re back in the Corps, huh? You get any of ‘em yet? You even seen one of the monsters that did this to me?”
Jed waited a beat before he replied, and he didn’t bother answering the sergeant’s questions. If Boon was gonna fuck him, he was gonna fuck him, and there was nothing Jed could do about it. So he went with the script whenever a guy gets hurt, figuring it was the safest play he had. “You’re gonna be okay, Sergeant,” he said.
“Fuck you, Welch,” Sergeant Boon said. “I’m gonna’ be okay. After they tore my fuckin’ hands off. I’m gonna be okay? Fuckin’ homie from the damn block. I saw you, Welch. I—”
Jed had looked over his shoulder, out the corner of his eye, and just in time to see Sergeant Boon’s eyes roll up as his head lolled over to the side.
“Shit!” Sergeant Kuhn said. He’d turned around and was watching Boon. Jed had his eyes on the dead man, but everyone else seemed to be trying to watch their zone and keep an eye on Boon at the same time.
“Watch your zones, men,” Kuhn said. “Sergeant Townsend, we need to remove this body from the truck.”
Jed turned around even as he felt Sergeant Townsend coming up the truck bed next to him.
“Get his ankles,” Kuhn said.
Jed kept a close eye on Boon’s feet. Sergeant Townsend reached down, and as he did, his shoulder brushed against the muzzle of Jed’s weapon, which was now aimed at Boon’s face.
“Welch, what the fuck?”
“Sergeant!” Jed yelled. Boon’s head twitched, then his feet came up off the truck bed as his legs went stiff. He lurched up and screamed as blood leaked from his eyes and nose.
“Get ‘em off me! Get ‘em off!” Boon yelled, pawing at the bandages on his hands by slapping them together, like he wanted to scrape them away.
“I can’t stop them! Can’t—Get ‘em off!”
Jed put a round into Boon’s chin, just like he’d done with the crazy kid before. Blood spattered out from inside the man’s helmet and he fell back onto the truck bed.
“Don’t touch it!” Sergeant Kuhn yelled. Everyone else had gone tighter up against the side of the truck, but Sergeant Townsend had moved like he would still get rid of the body. He straightened up and moved back to his position at the rear of the truck.
“Rah, Sergeant,” Jed said over his shoulder. He’d gone back to watching the neighborhood as they moved down Skillman.
“Rah?” Sergeant Townsend said, coming up close behind Jed. “You keep your motherfuckin’ eyes on your zone. Hear me? Don’t turn around now. Just listen. You watch the fuckin’ battlefield, son.”
Jed just nodded, doing his best to ignore the burn in his cheeks that had come back in force.
He’d hang with this crew until shit went bad, or he saw a way out again. Just like last time. He’d just saved their lives and the best they could do was give him shit. Just like in Boot. Just like Iraq. He lowered his head, wishing he could just jump off the truck right there and get away from all of it. But where would he go, and how would he stay alive with the monsters hiding in every dark corner?
Rainey nudged him then and said something that put his whole world on its head.
“You heard the Sergeant, Welch. Keep your eyes up and on the battlefield.”
Jed had a couple words on his tongue and got half of the first one out before Rainey cut him off.
“Corporal. Make sure you say ‘Fuck you, Corporal’.”
Jed realized he’d never caught Rainey’s rank before. He figured the guy for a private like him, maybe a PFC.
Rainey gave him a big shit-eating grin, like he was daring Jed to actually say the words he wanted to say so bad. These guys, though . . . they wouldn’t take attitude from him, not without giving him some serious lumps. But damn it would feel good to just tell Rainey to go fuck himself. He eyeballed the corporal, and Rainey looked like he was ready to start swinging.
Sergeant Townsend put everyone back in line before Jed could dig himself a deeper grave.
“Eyes out, men. You can kiss and make up when we get to Manhattan.”
A few chuckles went around the truck, but quieted down just as fast as they’d come.
The neighborhood swept by in front of Jed’s tired eyes. His legs still burned from the run, and he felt a nervous shake start in his right thigh.
The truck rolled to a slow stop and Jed snapped out of his thoughts. The remains of a barricade lay scattered across the roadway. Sandbags formed a couple of machine gun positions on either side of the road, but they were all knocked down, like something big had crashed into them. A concrete barrier had been shoved aside, making a path from the opposite lane.
Jed realized they were already at Queens Boulevard.
“We passed Honeywell,” he said.
“The fuck are you, a tour guide?” Sergeant Kuhn said. “Eyes damn out, Welch.”
Jed let it sink in and join the heat he already felt burning in his gut. These fuckers weren’t going to get a damn thing from him. First chance he got, he was gone. He’d take care of himself, just like always. He’d survive, on his own and without anyone around to knock him in the head just because he couldn’t make them happy.
The elevated tracks over Queens got Jed thinking differently, though.
They’ll just fall on us. Gotta be hiding up there. They’ll drop down on top of us.
“Sergeant Townsend.”
“The fuck you want, Welch?”
“What if they’re hiding up in the tracks?”
“Then we shoot them, Welch.”
Sergeant Kuhn leaned around to talk to whoever was in the cab. It didn’t take much to guess that was the LT.
Candy ass motherfucker hiding out up there.
“Okay,” Kuhn said. “We’re doing this fast. We get across the railyard and then it’s a few more blocks to the bridge. You see anything moving, light it up.”
The man paused and leaned down to talk to the LT in the cab again. He came back to standing and said, “Back of the truck. Sergeant Townsend?”
“Yeah.”
“LT wants you to keep watch over the buses. Give a shout if you see anything going on with them.”
“Ain’t got much else to be doing,” Sergeant Townsend said.
Kuhn grunted and slapped a palm on the truck cab.
“Hold on, men,” he said as the truck made the turn onto Queens Boulevard and brought them under the El tracks. Jed couldn’t help but shake in his boots as they came fully under the steel girders that supported the train tracks. The truck sped up and he felt his guts clench with fright.
They’re gonna drop on us. Gonna fuckin—
And they did. Four of them just flew down out of the metal frame overhead. Jed opened up along with Rainey and the other guy on their side of the truck. He heard gunfire from the other side, too.
The monsters jerked in the air as they fell, landing on the ground in a tangled bloody heap. The truck was still rolling, and Jed was still alive.
“That’s how you do it, men,” Kuhn said.
Jed flicked his gaze left and right. Rainey looked just about as freaked as Jed felt. The guy to Jed’s right was sweating like it was the middle of summer. Or maybe those were tears on his face.
Queens Boulevard raised up in a hump in the middle as they crossed over the ra
ilyards below. A shriek came from behind them. A hollow metallic echo followed, like one of the monsters had landed on top of a bus. Jed wanted to look back to check, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his zone. Not for a second. Small arms fire sounded out beneath the El tracks. Tight pop-pop-pops and a few seconds of chatter from the SAW up front. The truck and buses kept rolling fast. Jed could see the edge of the railyards coming up, just empty dirt around scattered rusty piles of metal. A line of trees and bushes separated the mess from the neighborhood on the other side.
They were almost there. Just a little more to go.
Another shriek came from behind them, and then more, like a fucking roomful of the monsters were back there trying to sing a song together.
Jed tried to get a line of sight again, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off his zone. Rainey was doing the same thing: looking back the way they’d come and twisting his head back so he could focus on his zone. Jed heard a clattering and scraping overhead. He looked straight up above them and his heart almost flew out of his mouth.
“Shit!” he yelled and lifted his weapon, firing as fast as he could.
A pack of the creatures scrambled and scraped on the El tracks overhead. They moved to keep up with the convoy, leaping and racing along the tracks like a pack of freakish monkeys. Sparks flew off the girders as Jed and the others in the truck tried to shoot the monsters. Some were hit and tumbled onto the street below. But most of the shots missed.
The things seemed to know where to run, like they were keeping covered on purpose.
Jed fired and fired, aiming as carefully as he could while the truck raced down the roadway. He hit one of the monsters and watched it fall to the street where it was crushed beneath the truck tires. Another leaped down several feet in front of the truck and made to jump onto the cab. The man to Jed’s right spotted it and pivoted to fire. He got it with a burst to the chest just as another one fell from above and landed on him, taking him out of the truck and to the road below. His screams followed the truck as they rolled on.
Rainey hit Jed in the shoulder with an elbow.
“Eyes out, Welch!”
Jed got back on his game, sending three rounds bursts at anything that moved, but only hitting them when he got lucky. He changed magazines and kept it up. Rainey did the same. Another pack dropped from above, at the far end of the road. The monsters tore down the pavement on all fours, racing at the truck, howling and shrieking as they came. The SAW gunner gave up on fire discipline. The constant pinging of brass on the truck’s cab rang in Jed’s ears behind the dull hum from the gunfire.
