by M. E. Betts
Anthony walked over, coming to a stop at Shari's side and letting out a low whistle as he surveyed the situation. The undead nearest the school had sensed the presence of the living and breathing, and some of them were clawing in vain at the wall of the school, as if they could climb up. "Shit, you're not kidding," he muttered. "Least the ones that can still move, at any rate."
"So what exactly should we do?" Shari asked. "What's our game plan?"
Anthony shrugged. "Game plan?" He readied his flamethrower, releasing some gas from the tank. "Step one, gas it up." He pressed the ignition, unleashing a 30-foot plume of flames downward and outward, setting aflame a wide swath of the crowd. "Step two, light it up. Done."
"And done," Shari muttered as she watched burning zombies stumble into others, inadvertently setting their own kind on fire. She realized that Anthony wouldn't even have to hit the ones closest to the school, as more and more of them became victims of friendly fire. "It sure does get the job done, doesn't it?"
Anthony lifted the tank slightly, extending the arch of the flame to maximize its reach. As she watched over the next couple of minutes, she realized that there had to be at least two-hundred undead on fire.
"How many of them do you think there are?" she asked. "You must have dealt with crowds every now and then as a security guard."
"No," Anthony said, "that wasn't really my area of expertise, but based off some of the concerts I've been to--" He paused, eyeing the crowd. "I'd say there must be at least ten thousand of the fuckers down there."
Shari nodded, her arms crossed as she moved closer to the edge to peer at the smouldering horde below. "How many do you think we can get from up here?" Her stomach churned as the stench of burned hair and skin assaulted her nostrils, and she retreated away from the edge.
"Well," Anthony said, "being optimistic--that's maybe five-hundred down there burning up. They'll set some of the others on fire, slow but sure, but that'll only help us so much."
"Okay," Shari said, "so what then?"
"This is what we do," Anthony said, stooping to push the ladder closer to the side facing the park. "First, we're gonna get off this roof."
Shari made a face, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "First who's gonna get off what?"
"You and me," Anthony said, "the roof, we're gonna get down off the roof."
"Why would we do that?"
Anthony gestured toward the park. "This has been pretty easy so far," he said. "But what, do you think they're all gonna come up to the school to get roasted just for our convenience?"
"No," Shari said, rolling her eyes. "Smartass."
They crossed the roof in order to descend from the same spot where they had come up. Anthony swung the end of the ladder off of the roof, carefully leaning it down to the ground. They both scurried down, then worked together to lower the ladder to the ground.
"Let's move," Anthony said as he started around the wing, heading northward toward the park. "We don't want to be late to the barbecue."
Hugo paced the rooftop, rustling his hair and humming oldies. Daphne napped in the shade of the stairwell, having foregone sleep the previous night.
Hugo scanned the horizon, still humming. As he turned to face south, the humming stopped. He approached the edge of the roof, peering across the street toward the park and school.
"Fire," he said, his voice low at first. "Fire--Daphne! Daphne, wake up! He sprinted across the roof to the stairwell, shaking the woman by the shoulder. "Daphne!"
Daphne groaned, propping herself up on one elbow. "Damn it, your grip hurts!" she hissed. "What's going on?"
"I don't know exactly," Hugo said, pointing across the street, "but something's on fire over there. Where are your binoculars?"
Daphne reached for her bag, opening the side pocket containing the binoculars. She stood and started toward the edge of the roof.
"Now what is all this?" she muttered, gazing through the lenses. She saw hundreds of undead on fire, some already no more than smouldering, twitching heaps.
"What do you see?" Hugo asked.
"Just a lot of burning zombies, but I can't make heads or tails of what's going on," Daphne said. As she shifted her gaze, she saw a human form near a ladder across the park, on a rooftop. "Wait--" she breathed. The figure was gone before she could get a good look at it. After a moment, she saw the ladder disappear from her view as well.
"What?" Hugo asked. "What is it?"
"I just saw someone," Daphne said, "someone alive."
"Who?" Hugo asked. "Was it Shari?"
Daphne stood facing south, her gaze still fixed where she had seen the ladder disappear. She shrugged. "I don't know," she said, "but here's hoping."
Shari and Anthony made their way slowly along the perimeter of the undead horde, setting the outer fringes on fire as they went. They had closed half of the distance between the school and the military surplus store, and it was now within view. Because the undead were so densely packed, the outer ring created a flaming buffer whereby the ones on the inside caught fire as they tried to make their way out of the circle and toward Anthony and Shari.
As they had noticed from the rooftop, the undead were genuinely too preoccupied while on fire to be a danger, short of wandering too close to one and catching fire. A few had wandered within biting distance, and Shari quickly put them down with her bow. She bent down to retrieve an arrow from the temple of an elderly female zombie, still wearing her Easter jewelry and a pin on her jacket that was made of small diamonds formed into the shape of a crucifix.
As she stood, she smelled a faint whiff of fumes. She frowned, trying to place the smell. I don't think that's gasoline.... As her gaze panned to the left, she saw the wavy haze that was generally a visual indication of gas in the air. Just as she opened her mouth to warn Anthony, she saw him release a plume of fire into the unidentified gas. She shoved him hard, pushing him behind a massive oak tree. She ducked behind it herself just as a huge blast ripped through the park, knocking her unconscious.
In her mind, Shari was back at the foul-smelling former supermarket in which they had spent the night south of Champaign. She was trying to get outside, but in order to do so she had to walk past the rancid freezer. In the dream, however, the non-functioning freezer cases were full of not food, but rather, human corpses. As she tried to gather the courage to run past and outside, she wondered which, if any, of the corpses were undead. She ventured out into the aisle between two rows of freezers, and as she made some distance, she heard a voice frantically hissing her name. She spun her head around in both directions, trying to locate the source of the voice and quickly entering the realm of full-blown panic. She heard the voice again.
"Shari...Shari!"
She broke out into a full-tilt run, sprinting toward the exit.
"Shari!" Daphne whispered, leaning in close to her ear. "Shari, wake up!"
"I can carry her, if I have to," she heard Anthony say, "but we really need to get moving, one way or another."
"No need," Shari muttered, her head throbbing and a ringing in her ears that seemed to echo through her being. "Provided I can move." She attempted to sit up onto her elbows, but she was met with crippling pain and dizziness. Hugo and Anthony hurried to her side, each of them supporting her under the arm as she slowly rose to her feet, getting her bearings.
"Easy," Anthony said. "I think you hit your head pretty hard on that root where you fell. Good news, though--the tree blocked us from the explosion."
Shari gazed around the park, noting a lot of debris. She also noted that much of the debris seemed to be composed of mutilated undead. She saw one trying in vain to turn from its back to its front side, all four of its limbs blown off. Everything nearby was littered with tattered clothing and chunks of meat. About 50 feet away, she saw an open sewer grate she had not noticed earlier. She pointed to the hole in the street.
"I wonder if it was a sewer explosion," she said.
"It would make sense," Hugo said. He walked around t
o the far side of the oak tree, the side closest to the sewer. "Hey, guys!" he called. "Come look at this."
Shari, Daphne and Anthony walked over, looking in the direction Hugo pointed. A few small, unidentifiable chunks of metal lay imbedded in the trunk, along with an Illinois drivers' license. Hugo pried the plastic card free from the bark, regarding the visage and personal information of its former owner.
"His name was Paul Robertson," he said, sliding the card into his own back pocket.
A faint scraping sound echoed softly through a nearby alley, letting them know that there were still plenty of undead in the area.
"Well," Daphne said, "let's not waste borrowed time. What's the quickest way out of here?"
The group started eastward. "Right at the intersection," Anthony said. "Short walk after that."
"Hey," Hugo said, brushing Shari on the arm as he pointed at something in the street ahead, "your hat's over there. It must have gotten blown off."
He began to jog toward the hat lying on the asphalt. He crouched beneath a sturdy branch reaching over the street, snatching up the hat. At that point, the group heard the sound of leaves rustling from above. A large metal object which had been embedded into the canopy crashed down, hitting several more branches. It just barely missed Hugo as it clattered thunderously into the street. The group gazed down at the object.
"Man hole cover," Anthony said. "Sewer explosion, for sure."
They hurried back to the radio building, the rest of their trip relatively uneventful. All six members of the group were together for the first time, and they spent some time getting to know one another.
Hugo had shaken Phoebe's and the Professor's hands vigorously upon meeting them.
"I'm Hugo," he had said, "Hugo Quinn Clark."
After all the introductions, Shari related to Phoebe and the Professor how the events of the rescue had unfolded.
"Methane build-up," Phoebe said. "Not too surprising." She snickered. "And you guys flamed the shit out of it, huh?"
"I didn't smell anything 'til the last second," Shari said. "It's not really that easy to smell anything with the stench of burning rot permeating the air. By the time I noticed it and tried to warn Anthony, it was too late.
"It was technically a good thing, though," Daphne said. "It either killed, handicapped, or scattered most of the undead left in the area. Hugo and I were watching from the surplus store. The flamethrower actually cut through a lot of them, but we're talking about hundreds of undead."
"The explosion, though--" Hugo said. "The explosion, that took enough of them out of the picture for Daphne and me to leave the store and meet up with Shari and Anthony."
"I hope you guys brought some good stuff from the surplus store," Phoebe said.
"As much as we could squeeze into our bags," Daphne replied. "I wish we could've taken more. And while we're on the subject, we really appreciate the rescue. Hugo and I both feel pretty stupid about the whole thing." She turned to face Anthony. "Especially you," she said. "You don't know us, and you didn't have to help us."
"Don't mention it," Anthony said. "Lucky for you guys, Shari made a pretty good impression on us. So when she said she needed our help, we didn't think twice."
"You guys are the first people we've seen around here in awhile," Phoebe said. "Since the settlement down the way broke contact, at any rate."
Daphne and Hugo exchanged glances as Daphne reached into her bag. She took out the notebook she had found outside of the walled settlement nearby, the one preceded by the stench of mass decay.
"We found this," she said, handing Phoebe the notebook. "I'm kind of assuming it's from the same settlement you're talking about."
The room was silent as Phoebe thumbed through the pages, the Professor reading over her shoulder.
"Yeah," Phoebe said, her tone flat, "they're gone." She sighed heavily, rubbing her scalp. "All gone. Fuck."
"There was something they mentioned in there," Hugo said, "something about trying to blow up a stadium."
"Stadium?" Phoebe repeated. "You mean the football stadium?"
Hugo shrugged. "I guess so," he said. "I don't really know. It's all in the notebook."
Phoebe made a face. "Why the hell would they do that?"
"According to the notebook, it's full of undead," Daphne said. "I would imagine they just wanted to take them out while it was a ridiculously big group. They just never got to carry it out."
"Yeah," Phoebe said. "They corraled everyone in there the first day this went down."
Shari shook her head. "What I don't understand is, why bother trying to blow up a stadium full of zombies? I mean, the situation is containing itself, so to speak, right?"
"Well, here's the thing," Phoebe said, "that stadium has seen better days, and on top of that, it was never built with the intention of having it serve as a cattle pen for most of the Champaign-Urbana area, some undead and some insane with fear. Maybe the settlement anticipated a breach, with thousands of zombies pouring out of there at once."
"The official capacity was 20,000," Anthony said. "And I'm guessing they packed the place as tightly as they could. Could be 50,000 or more undead corraled in there." He paused for a moment. "So who's down for a day at the stadium tomorrow?"
Shari sat on the roof, staring up at the inky, featureless sky. The opaque clouds obscured the stars that lay beyond. She wasn't thinking, at least not consciously. She was simply trying to be as inert as she possibly could be, both inside and out. She was so detached that she didn't even notice when Anthony came out and sat down beside her. She trembled, startled, as he spoke.
"Dark tonight."
"Yeah," she said, her mind still at rest.
"I know you like the stars," Anthony said. "Shame it's so cloudy." Neither of them spoke for about a minute. "You saved me back there."
Shari snapped back into reality. "Hmm? Oh, you mean when the explosion happened?"
"Yeah," he said.
"You don't know that," Shari argued. "But if you're trying to thank me, then you're welcome."
Anthony nodded. "Thanks." They sat for a few minutes, enveloped by a damp, chilled wind that was beginning to pick up speed. The first falling leaves of the approaching autumn danced with the litter and debris strewn in the street below. "Shari," Anthony said, his tone gentle, "about last night--"
"Did we do something?" Shari blurted, confused. Her consciousness had gone dormant again. "Ohh...." She narrowed her eyes, recalling what had happened. "You mean how I was acting crazy."
"I'm not being judgmental," Anthony said. "I was concerned, though."
"Don't be concerned about my sanity," Shari said. "Even if I am crazy, I would never hurt anyone who didn't have it coming."
"I know you wouldn't," Anthony assured her. "Just making sure you're okay. And now you have that head injury, on top of everything else. If you need to rest up, then going to the stadium can wait, or we can go without you."
"Nah," Shari said. "I could use a solid eight hours tonight, but I'll be fine after that. Provided Daphne and Hugo are down for it, it's still on for tomorrow."
"Okay, that's up to you guys," Anthony said. "The offer stands, though. Rest if you need it. Really."
There was a few minutes worth of silence while Anthony shifted awkwardly with the weight of unspoken words.
"Hey," he finally said. "I'll keep a look out tonight. You go on in, get started on that eight hours you were talking about."
Shari nodded. "That's a good idea," she said as she turned toward the stairwell. As she reached the door, she turned and walked back until she was standing close to Anthony. She planted a long, soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Anthony," she said. "Thanks for being one of the good guys."
It was half past eight when the group, minus the Professor, left the radio building the next morning. The smell of burning rot still hung in the air from the previous day, permeating the city.
"Fuck," Phoebe croaked as they set out, zipping up her hoodie and using it to cover her no
se and mouth, "is this the smell you guys were dealing with?"
"Oh, yeah," Anthony said. "It was especially fun when I would hit one of the really rancid ones--you know, where some of the meat is already falling off of the bone, like a good pot roast. The smell was unreal."
"Sorry I wasn't there," Phoebe said. "But I'm glad you enjoyed the weapon I crafted."
"Wait," Hugo said, tapping Phoebe on the shoulder, "you made that flamethrower? You know how to do that?"
"Yeah, why?" Phoebe demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "'Cause I'm young and I'm a female, you assume that I don't know how to do anything, let alone anything cool? Is that it?"
Hugo made a face, perplexed. "No," he said, "I just think that's awesome. I've made some explosives, some flash grenades, stuff like that."
"Ha," Phoebe said. "I was making stuff like that back in junior high."
"Whoa!" Hugo gushed, visibly swooning. "Really?"
Phoebe nodded. "For real," she said. "You guys stick around long enough, you might learn a thing or two from me."
Hugo stopped in his tracks for a moment as the rest of the group trudged onward, happily contemplating the notion. "That would be awesome," he said as he picked up his pace to catch up with his companions. Shari noted his infatuation, smiling a little and rolling her eyes.
"So how far away is this stadium?" she asked.
"'Bout a half mile," Anthony replied. "I'd say we should start to smell it soon, if it is still full of undead, but--"
"But that was before we barbecued hundreds of rotten zombies, polluting the whole town?" Shari asked.
"Yeah," Anthony said, "before we did that."
Daphne and Shari were in the rear of the group, and Daphne leaned in close to whisper into Shari's ear.
"So how close did you and Anthony get?" she asked.
Shari spun her head toward Daphne, caught off guard by the question. She noted that her friend was smiling, but she was fairly certain that she detected a hint of bitterness in her voice.
