He lowers the Link and sighs.
“Kelly’s awake. He’s asking for you.”
I don’t answer. How am I going to tell him Halliwell’s dead? How will he react?
There’s daylight ahead, but Julia and I have to get out of the car to move a large branch out of the way. The trees crowd around us. We don’t see any Undead, but before we’re finished, we can hear their moans. Back in the car, I hit the gas and we slide a little. Julia squeaks, obviously on edge. The tires catch and we dart away. She stares out the back window; I stare out through the front.
A minute later, we emerge onto the sunlit track, now overgrown and barely discernible from the rest of the ground. As we pass through the tall grass, I feel like a ship sailing through clouds. But the illusion is fleeting. We reach the gate as Reggie and Brother Walter emerge from Building One, the only one untainted by Undead blood and gore. When I turn the car off, I can hear the electrical buzz of the fence. Brother Walter quickly enters the code and the air on the back of my neck settles.
I jump out of the car and race through the gate. Behind me, I hear Eric say, “Halliwell’s in the back seat. He’s dead.” I hear Julia’s door open. I hear Brother Walter speak her name in surprise. He goes to her, to offer her his sympathies.
Kelly’s sitting on the floor inside the building, propped up against the wall. He looks up and my breath catches in my throat. The circles under his eyes are deep and dark. His skin is deathly pale, and when I place a hand on his forehead, he’s hot to the touch. We wrap our arms around each other and hold on for dear life, rocking, not speaking, just breathing and being. In less than an hour we’ll be leaving this place behind.
“I’m so glad to see you,” he says, whispering into my ear.
We rock and rock and breathe and hold on until finally we pull apart again.
“Reggie said you got Father Heall.”
“It’s Halliwell,” I tell him, omitting the rest, not telling him he’s dead.
And because of my grandfather, so is Kelly.
You still have your medicine.
Kelly studies my face. “They told me that, Halliwell and Heall being the same man. I still can’t believe….” His voice is rough, gravelly. “And they told me about the bombing tonight. I guess it wasn’t too hard to convince Heall to come then.”
I take a deep breath, let it out. “Yeah, no argument at all.”
But he knows. I can’t keep something this big from him by staying silent. He can tell the truth I’m holding back just by looking in my eyes.
“We’ll be home soon,” I tell him. “Just hold on.”
And he sighs and rests his head on my chest and says, “You’re here. That’s all that matters. I feel like I’m already home.”
PART THREE (A)
Endings
Chapter 22
Eric and Reggie and Julia are waiting for us outside when I come out with Kelly, his arm slung over my shoulder. He’s limping, infection from a bite on his right thigh seeping through his bandage. It smells. They watch us as we approach, crossing the field to a wide, flat open spot large enough for the chopper to land. Kelly’s head turns as we pass the still form of Halliwell’s prostrate body. He never says a word, never asks for an explanation or answers, just accepts the truth of what he sees and settles heavily to the ground and closes his eyes.
I ask about Sister Jane and Brother Walter. Reggie shakes his head. They slipped away, out through the gate and into the woods. Something tells me Reggie knew they were going to. They’d given him the code to switch the electricity back on.
Eric’s stands off to one side, watching the sky. Would he have let them go? Would he have honored their final wishes? Something tells me no, but he’s hard to read and so I can’t be absolutely sure of that. In that regard, he’s a lot like my Grandfather.
I wonder if they said anything to Julia before they left. What could they have said? The choice was clear: stay and die; go and have a life, one most likely to be filled with uncertainty, of course, but still a life. They couldn’t have wanted death for her, not after the way they protected her back there. They had no choice but to let her go. That’s what I think now.
“We’ll take care of her,” I whisper, sending it off into the wind.
I drop my backpack onto the grass and flop down next to Kel and we all wait for the chopper to come and rescue us. Outside the fence, the Undead continue their restless attempts to get in at us. A few of them get zapped, but most don’t even try. “They learn,” Eric says, regarding them with nothing but dull interest.
“Yeah, we know,” I reply. Strange, considering just a few days ago we were laughing at the idea.
We wait, obsessively checking our Links, willing four thirty to hurry up and come quicker.
At four fifteen the fence stops working.
We all sense it immediately and look up. Reggie utters a curse under his breath. I jump to my feet.
“Just Arc messing with their firewall,” Kelly suggests. But we’re all troubled. The timing seems suspicious.
Almost immediately, the IUs start to press up against the chain link, as if they had been waiting for this very thing to happen. But the fence is strong. It’s eight feet tall and topped by razor wire. We tell ourselves we have little to worry about.
“It’ll come on again,” one of us says. I don’t know who. Maybe I just think it. We’re all thinking it, willing it to be so.
Sure enough, the electrical hum starts up after a moment. It catches us all—us and the IUs—by surprise. There’s a series of loud pops and sparks and several Undead fly through the air and flop to the ground. On our side of the fence, some of us laugh a little nervously, though none of us is amused in the slightest. Anyway, they’ll all be mounds of cinders and ash in a matter of hours. The end of Gameland. The end of Survivalist. I won’t shed a single tear.
“See, I told you.”
But then it shuts off again.
“Piece of shit,” Reggie mutters.
We wait. Nothing.
“Ten minutes. That’s how long we have till they come. The fence will hold. Nothing to worry about.”
We don’t worry. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves. Not until a couple Players show up and start to climb. Suddenly, razor wire doesn’t look like much of an obstacle. After all, what do they care if they get sliced up?
I grab Eric’s EM pistol, but he tells me to wait. “That thing takes a few minutes to recharge,” he warns. “So don’t waste your shots. Besides, I wouldn’t so close to the fence. If the power comes back on at the same time, it could arc.”
“How many bullets you got left?” I ask Reggie. He’s holding the rifle by the strap, watching the Players struggling to climb the slippery wire. They look awkward, stiff and uncoordinated, and only manage to get a few feet off the ground before falling back down again. But the fact that they’re climbing without anyone controlling them is what bothers us, not so much the fact that they might get in. After all, we’ve got bullets. And knives. We can run. Well, some of us can.
“It’s like they remember from when they were alive,” Reggie whispers. “Like they’re wired for this.”
“Just be thankful they’re not Omegas,” Eric says. “What I’ve seen some of them do under their own control would freak you out.
“How many rounds?” I repeat.
“Huh?” He looks down at the gun in his hand, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how to check for that.”
He hands it to me and I turn the EM pistol back over to Eric. I snap the release and quickly disgorge the magazine into my palm. “Seven rounds, plus one in the chamber.”
Eric chuckles uncertainly at my ease with the weapon. Reggie shakes his head. “That’s one tough sister.”
I flip the switch on the rifle to single-shot while keeping my eyes on the Players.
Five more minutes pass. We’re all straining our ears for the first sounds of the chopper, but all we can hear is the
mournful lowing of the Undead and the whistle of the afternoon breeze through the trees.
“Maybe I can keep them occupied,” I finally say.
“Just sit tight, Jessie,” Eric replies. “The chopper should be coming any minute now.”
But I’m too antsy. I can’t just sit here and wait.
“Want company?” Reggie offers, but Julia is already on her feet, running after me.
“Jessica!” Eric cries out. I hear the frustration in his voice. “Stay where we can see you!”
“Yes, Mom.”
I go to the far end of the compound and start yelling out at the zombies to distract them, while Julia watches from a safe distance, fascinated, horrified. “Hey. Hey you! Come over here!”
And they come. Of course they do. They don’t know any better. The CUs fall off the fence and make their way through the approaching throng of IUs. They’re faster, stronger. After reaching us, they begin to climb again, moaning and slathering, flapping their dark tongues at us. Then the IUs arrive and begin crowding the fence, too. One of the Players falls but lands on top of them and there’s so many here that it never hits the ground. It grabs the fence again four feet up and begins to climb. The other Player is now even higher. It reaches up and over the razor wire, slashing the skin on its arm and exposing the greasy yellow and brown sinews underneath. I hear Julia gasp. I hear her ask in alarm if they can get in.
But then the fence comes back on again, and the IUs pop off like toys, flying into the grass ten feet back. Most don’t get back up again. The lower Player is stuck holding on, smoke beginning to rise from its hands. The air fills with the stench of burning plastic. Then it, too, falls off, leaving behind the blackened stumps and charred bones of its fingers still welded to the wire. The higher one jiggles like a marionette near the top of the fence.
“Stop it!” Julia shouts, her voice filled with dismay. “Make it stop! It’s awful!”
Electricity arches through the Player’s body, burning it every time it flops against the fence. The popping sounds are alarmingly loud and the electric hum is fills our ears. Julia’s cries grow more frantic. I don’t hear the others shouting. Or if I do, my mind doesn’t register it. I’m entranced by the Player, watching it burn, watching it catch on fire and blister.
Julia screams again, louder still, and doesn’t stop screaming. I ignore it. I turn back only when I hear the moan underneath her cries, a moan of the Undead.
I spin around, confused to see the zombie on her. It’s pulled her down and is trying to bite her.
“Julia!”
It is biting her!
She’s screaming and wrestling, and when the pair rolls, I see that it isn’t one of the IUs from outside the fence.
It’s Jake.
Chapter 23
I lift the rifle and sight down the barrel at Jake’s head. I start to squeeze the trigger. But I can’t shoot.
“Kill him!” someone is screaming at me. “Shoot him! Kill the fucker!”
“Jake!” I roar.
He lifts his head from Julia’s mangled neck and looks straight at me. Blood drips down his chin, Julia’s blood, shredded bits of her neck, veins, muscle. He hisses and gore sprays from between his lips.
“Shoot the god damn fucker!” Reggie screams.
I yank on the trigger just as Jake bends back down to take another bite, and the impact of the recoil knocks me onto my ass, throwing me to within a foot of the fence. My ears ring from the gunshot and my head fills with the buzz of the electricity. The Undead moan behind me, but they don’t touch the wire.
I snatch the rifle, still smoking, from the ground and try to flip it around. Jake has stood up by then and is coming toward me. I can’t get my hands to work properly. I can’t get the gun pointed. And now he’s standing directly over me and I swing the gun over and pull the trigger. But even as I’m doing it I know that I’ve missed again.
I can hear the others running toward me. Jake seems to stop and regard me for a moment, tilting his head almost thoughtfully. In that fraction of a moment, it seems as if there is something rational behind those dark eyes of his, some tiny little scrap of awareness, a flicker of knowing just before he lunges.
I’m ready for it. I spin away, twisting my wrist as the rifle snags on the ground. Something pops and my arm screams out in pain and the scream courses through me and flies from my lips. I drop onto my shoulder, roll, try to back away, dimly aware that I won’t be able to ask Jake to pop my shoulder back in this time. Jake locates me, comes again.
“Shoot him!”
Why the hell is it taking them so long to get here?
But I can’t wait for them. Jake reaches out for me. His mouth is opening, his lips moving. It almost looks like he’s trying to speak.
Jessie. I had such a crush on you.
“Aaahhhhnnng!”
“No,” I moan, and I yank my arm until I hear the sickening pop and the pain vanishes.
I bring the rifle up and slam it into his head. His body jerks, falls. I scramble to my feet and run over to Julia. But she’s already gone. Her eyes are starting to glaze over. Blood leaks from her nose and mouth, bubbles from her torn throat with every agonized breath she takes.
Rustling, behind me. Don’t look. Jake on his feet. The others coming: thirty feet, twenty-five. They’re screaming, waving their arms. A growl, almost in my ear.
I drop, roll, twist. But he’s not there.
Spin around, search. He’s gone
“Shoot him!” Reggie screams, pointing.
I look. Jake’s loping off toward the buildings.
Not typical. Not typical for a zombie not typical no not typical come back—
Reggie slides to the ground next to me. He reaches out for Julia, but she’s clearly on her last breaths. There’s nothing any of us can do. I push him away.
Eric hobbles up next to us a moment later. He tries to take the gun, tries to lift it, but it slips from his grip. He tries again, wincing, seats it in the hollow of his shoulder, sights, squeezes. The rifle leaps as it fires and it goes flying out of his hands. It hits the soft dirt muzzle down, plants itself. Eric drops to a knee, clutching his side.
Jake disappears around a corner.
“That fucker,” Reggie sobs. “That stupid fucker. Look what he did.”
But I can’t look at her, and not because I know it’s my fault she’s dead. I can’t look at her because I it’s not her face I see. It’s Jake’s. I see him looking back at me, his dark blue eyes now black, now pleading with me to stop him, to kill him. To please make it stop.
And I know I’m not imagining it. He’s Undead and he knows it.
† † †
Chaos reigns for the next several minutes. Eric tries to hold Reggie back, to keep him from going after Jake. Kelly’s there too, pushing against Reggie’s chest, trying to talk him down. They’re both weak, and Reggie’s strong. He should be able to sweep them away like gnats, but he doesn’t.
I pluck the rifle from the dirt. Four rounds left. I carry it over to Julia. It feels so damn heavy. Behind me, the boys are still arguing. I angle the gun at Julia’s head and pull the trigger and the world suddenly goes quiet.
I don’t know how long I stand there. Eventually the moaning of the Undead drifts back into my consciousness. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Reggie push the others away. He steps over to me and for a moment I think he’s going to hold me. Instead he screams, “You should’ve shot him! Why didn’t you shoot him?” Then he stomps away.
Eric takes my arm and leads me back to where we’d been sitting. He doesn’t say anything, but I can sense him wondering the same thing: Why didn’t I shoot him? How could I have missed him twice from such close range?
“What time is it?” I ask, numbly.
He looks at his Link. “Four thirty…five.”
I think it’s then that we realize leaving isn’t going to be as easy as we thought. Hopeful anticipation turns to despair. Not even the shock of what just happened can mask it.<
br />
I leave Julia. She’s dead now, nothing but dead meat rotting into the dirt, dirt to dirt, dust to dust and we all fall down. I go and I sit back down with Kelly near Halliwell’s body, opposite Reggie. He holds his head in his hands and refuses to look at me. Eric comes over but doesn’t sit. I’m dimly aware of him standing there, keeping watch. Waiting for Jake to return. I don’t care anymore. Let him come. Let him come and feed on us all.
But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. We just sit and wait for a rescue that never comes.
Four forty comes and goes. Then it’s ten till five and still no chopper. Eric tries to ping someone, anyone, but there’s no one on the Stream. I can see it in his eyes, the self-doubt, the wondering if maybe our chance to get the island died when his chopper went down last night. But I think it was when Grandpa died. It was him, after all, who’d arranged to get Eric here in the first place, arranged for Air Defense to postpone their bombing run.
“They’re going to come soon.”
I think it’s Kelly who says this. I’m not sure.
Nobody answers. Nobody asks if he means the rescue or the bombs.
At five o’clock, the fence stops working. Almost intuitively, we know it’s for good this time. Reggie stands up and brushes himself off and says, “Give me the gun.”
Chapter 24
I don’t move. I’d been thinking what a coincidence it is that there are three more bullets left. Three bullets, four of us.
“Give it to me,” Reggie asks again, extending his hand toward me. He stares off in the distance, the muscles in his jaw rippling.
“Why?”
“I’m going to hunt that son of a fucker down.”
“Why?” I ask again. Kelly’s got his head in my lap now, his eyes closed, the heat of his fever rolling off of him. I stroke his hair with my fingers. I think he’s asleep. He looks too peaceful to wake.
S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Season One Omnibus Page 112
