Sawkill [Omnibus]

by Matt Fitzgerald

  I needed a show stopper. I need fireworks. I needed a marching band. I need that goddamn truck to explode. It was far enough to draw them away from my Cora. I had to make it work. Then it came to me, not in a calm and without the feeling that the idea was not my own. I poked a hole in the bottom of one of the lighter fluid cans with the tip of an arrow. I stuffed a strip of cloth into the hold and saturated it with fluid from another can. I took two running steps and tossed the thing overhand like a football towards the Silverado. It came up ten feet short, even with the ten foot skid it made across the ground. But when it hit the rag came free and it spilled fluid in a trail as it skittered to a stop. I did the same thing with another can. This time I took four running steps and put everything I had behind the toss. This one landed a foot beside the last and tumbled end over end until it was resting against the Silverado’s flattened wheel.

  “Yes!” I said.

  I tossed all but three of the cans of fluid at the truck. Two more made it under the truck while the others made a loose half circle in front of it. That was alright. All but a couple of them were leaking on the lot. The ones nearest the truck seemed to have big puddles around them.

  “Here goes nothing.” I said

  I lit one of the remaining strips of table cloth. I pulled the bow back hard, smiled and said:

  “Smile you son of a.” And loosed the flaming arrow.

  It arced high and I was sure I missed, but I didn’t. The flames spread quickly, and before I knew it, the Silverado’s tires were on fire. I knew I had to move quickly. I climbed down the ladder and went out the back emergency exit in the stock room I ran as fast as I could to the right so I would came around the building and stopped at the corner. I could see my truck and the burning Silverado beyond it. As I watched there were two muffled pops that must have been the tires popping. Then the windows burst as the flames crept up the vehicle’s undercarriage. A moment later there was a bigger explosion from the front of the truck. The hood shot backwards and slammed against the windshield and fire shot out of the engine like a dragon breathing fire. A good many of the zombies had turned and were heading towards the burning truck. A second later the gas tank went. The explosion was impossibly loud and made the back of the truck shoot up in the air so the thing was standing on it nose for a split second before the ass end came crashing back to the ground.

  All the zombies were headed for the explosion. They were moving slow, but they were moving. I had to force myself to wait. If I ran too soon I might attract some back. Those four minutes felt like an eternity. I thought about all the things I’d done right and how many things I’d done wrong. And I prayed the last thing I’d done wrong didn’t cost the life of my Cora.

  I pulled the keys out of my pocket and pressed the button to unlock the car. I put down the bow and picked up my ax. I was ready. Then I realized that the next ninety seconds of my life were either going to be the happiest or most horrible I would ever experience. I ran to the Explorer, stopped at the back door took a deep breath and swung it open.

  Sawkill Stories:

  The

  Silver Tower

  By: Matt Fitzgerald

  For

  Barbra Boliver

  The first person to take my writing seriously.

  Kimberly never imagined she would be able to eat another human being, never mind enjoy it. She and Anna had made the obvious joke about needing some fava beans and a nice Chianti as they tried to break the tension after they had cooked Paul. That was four months ago.

  Kimberly worked and lived in Manhattan. She had lived there since moving from Millbury, Massachusetts twelve years ago. Although she was a still a closet Red Sox fan, she considered herself a “New Yorker” to the bone. She came to the city when she was offered a job managing the new ultra-hip Silver Tower condominium complex that had been built on the site of one of the lesser known Ground Zero buildings that was badly damaged over a decade ago. The building was nineteen stories above ground and another four below street level. Ground level housed a Starbucks, dry cleaners, an out of this world sushi bar, a Whole Foods and a very exclusive gym and spa that only accepted 2% of the people that applied for membership. The second floor had office suites, some of them for the building’s needs and others that leased to lawyers, brokers, agents and other assorted millionaires, some of whom lived upstairs. Floors three through nineteen had twelve super luxury condos on each floor. Kimberly was given one to be the onsite manager. Not a common practice, but her uncle Horace was one of the owners of the building and she had been handpicked. If not for her uncle, she would have to pay her two million dollars like the rest of the owners. She shook her head every time she went into the underground tenant’s garage to deal with the lot’s security booth. She would pass the Porches, the Bentleys, the Cobra, the Enzo and her favorite, the cherry red 1965 Mustang Fastback that Mr. Poole on seven only drove on the fourth of July. Kim herself didn’t own a car. That was crucial to being a “New Yorker.”

  On the day the zombies overran Manhattan, Kim’s building was at 87% occupancy, with the office suites and the retail at 100%. She woke at two in the morning to the sounds of sirens and horns and gunshots. She rolled over and woke up Anna, who could sleep through anything.

  “I think I heard gunshots.” Kim said climbing out from under the bed clothes. She walked over to the window naked and pushed the little button on the wall. The window went from black to clear so she could see the city streets four stories down. The windows had no shades, just the tinting element. She didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her, the outside windows shined silver like a state trooper’s sunglasses. Anna joined her at the window.

  “Holy shit. There’s a riot going on down there.” Anna said.

  “I have to get downstairs.” Kim said picking up the clothes discarded at the foot of the bed a few hours before.

  “And do what?” Anna asked.

  “I have to make sure that Burke is awake and closed the shutters.”

  “Just call him.”

  “I want to see for myself.” Kim said and picked her key card off the counter and jogged to the door.

  “Be careful.” Anna said.

  But the door was already closed. Anna got back into bed and turned on the television. At this time of night there should have been infomercials about gimmick diets, idiot proof kitchen gadgets and useless workout equipment, but instead there was news… bloody, blunt and frantic news. Whoever the reporter was, she did not recognize him, but he was obviously in the city. There was chaos all around him and it looked like he had blood on his face and clothes.

  “They are zombies. They are dying and coming back to life and eating people. That’s the fucking truth of it.” The man was screaming into his microphone. “Anyone that can hear this needs to get the fuck out of the city.”

  Anna got up and went back to the window. She watched the movement below with a sharper eye. There were normal looking people running away from blood soaked people that seemed somehow off balance as they sprinted towards their victims. She saw a bloody man run down a girl that looked no older than sixteen. He fell on her so she was face down on the pavement. The man sunk his teeth into the back of her neck and shook his head like a dog with a chew toy. A small squeak escaped Anna’s lips. She continued to watch as the man took more bites from her shoulders and then bit off her ear. The blood looked black in the glow of the arc sodium lights, but there was a lot of it, she could see. The man looked up from the bloody body and reached out for another woman that was running by. He tangled her legs with his arm and she went sprawling, smacking her forehead hard on the concrete sidewalk. The man jumped on her unconscious body and took a big bite of her plump cheek. Anna almost looked away but she saw the first girl start to move.

  “What the fuck.” She muttered.

  Thirty seconds later the young girl was huddled next to the man taking sloppy bites out of the big unconscious woman. When the pair stood up and moved on, Anna could see most of the woman’s face was
simply gone, but that didn’t stop her from twitching and stirring, then getting to her feet. She stood, trying to gain her balance and then started walking. A man was running down the street and didn’t realize what state the woman was in until it was too late. She lunged for him, took him down, and started eating.

  Anna had seen enough. She went into the kitchen and got water from the fridge. She took a big gulp and hoped she would wake up from this intense dream soon.

  Downstairs Kim was pleased to see the big metal emergency shutters had all been closed and the emergency lighting had all come on. They had tested the system twice when she first moved in, but it had not been used since. She showed potential residents the video of the first test and it never failed to impress.

  “Total security.” She would tell them. “In the case of an external emergency we close the shutters and the building it 100% secure.”

  The man that bought 1201 would later call them “zombie doors.” The shutters were a manual thing. Someone had to activate them, they weren’t automatic. The only people that had the access and authority to close the shutters were her head of security - a former secret service agent, her automation technician and herself. Schedules had been established that one of the three had to be on the premises at all times. She always thought this was a silly thing and that they would never need to use them. She thought it was a security blanket for the residents more than anything. Now she was grateful they were down.

  “Burke, are you around?” She called into the gloom.

  “I didn’t think you would mind that I dropped the shades.” Burke said as he came out of the office.

  “What the hell is going on out there?” she asked.

  “Zombies!” Burke exclaimed.

  “Zombies?” Kim repeated, in a mocking tone.

  “Come look at the news, it’s zombies.”

  Expecting to be the butt of his joke she reluctantly went into the security office. She watched the same broadcast Anna was watching upstairs.

  “Holy mother of God.” She muttered.

  She watched in disbelief as the horror unfolded on the television.

  “What’s going on?” a voice behind her said and she jumped at the sound.

  “Zombies!” Burke explained again.

  The man’s smirk left his face quickly as he watched the broadcast.

  More people made their way down to the lobby to see what was happening. Instead of everyone trying to squeeze into the small security office Burke lit the lobby and turned on the big plasmas in the Starbuck’s sitting area and the main lobby. Everyone watched as the world ended on television.

  “We have to get out of here.” Paul Pratt said.

  He was a pro baseball player who was out for the rest of the season due to a broken wrist. The Enzo in the garage was his.

  “And go where?”

  “We should stay put.” The man from 1201 said. “We have the zombie doors, we are probably in the safest place in Manhattan.”

  And safe they were, for a little while. No one came and no one went for two days. Everyone had food, shelter and electricity. Everyone seemed to be treating it like a stint on some fucked up reality show. The Wright kid was filming every second with his iPhone. All in all, there were two hundred and twenty one people in the building when the shutters dropped. After the presidential address on September twenty fourth, that number dropped to twenty.

  Kim listened intently to the entire speech, but only recalled one part of what the President said:

  “For the next seventy two hours every American citizen in the infection zone should be doing everything in their power to evacuate major cities, find bomb shelters, or try to make it out of the bombing zones. There will be processing stations all along the Rocky Mountains. If you are able to get to these stations and you are declared healthy you will be brought to safety. Mexico and Canada have the right to defend their borders, and will. I do not advise taking that option. Any aircraft attempting to enter airspace west of the Rocky Mountains will be shot down no questions asked. Please do not try to fly into the Clean Zone. For those citizens unable to make it out of the designated areas I urge you to find actual bomb shelters, bank vaults, subbasements, subways, anywhere that gives you a chance to survive. We will not be using nuclear weapons. Once the bombing has stopped there will be no fallout. The air will however be filled with toxins and debris, so please make breathing apparatus a high priority as you prepare. The first city we will bomb will be New York City, then Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington DC. The heat signature of the infected runs seven to ten degrees warmer than an uninfected person and our thermal images indicate those cities have the highest concentration of the infected. A secondary list will be communicated as more intel becomes available”

  The gathered crowed all started talking at once. People were yelling about leaving and getting to the subway and hiring helicopters to whisk them away. In the end it was decided that anyone that wanted to leave was free to go, and anyone that wanted to stay and try to ride out the storm was welcome to. Twenty stayed in the end. It could have been twenty one had the Dorn kid not gone and gotten himself killed.

  Once the initial discussions and arguments subsided, those who decided to leave began prepping for their departure. The guy from 1201 tried to break into the sushi restaurant with a crow bar before packing his Land Rover in the underground garage. Burke had other ideas.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Burke asked.

  “I’m getting some cases of that Japanese beer.” The man replied.

  “No you’re not. Anything that is yours in your apartment can go, but the stuff in the building stays for those of us staying here.”

  There were thirty or more tenants in the lobby watching this exchange, some of them staying but most of them going.

  “Fuck that.” The man said and continued to work at the door.

  Burke took a step towards the man.

  “Stop what you are doing, and get away from the door.”

  “Fuck you.” The man repeated without stopping.

  Burke put a hand on his shoulder. The Man spun and shoved Burke.

  “Don’t fucking touch me. I could buy and sell you, nigger.” The man spat.

  Burke drew the gun from his work issue gun belt and shot the man from 1201 in the right ass cheek. The man howled in pain and fell to the floor. The crowbar fell from the crease of the door and thudded off the screaming man’s head. The man screamed again and again. Blood poured from the ass wound and made a funny design on the marble floor.

  “I’ll have your job for this.” The man screamed before he passed out.

  Burke had to laugh at the absurdity of the threat. Then he turned to the sea of stunned faces.

  “Does everyone here understand the rules? Take what is yours if you want to go, the rest stays here. If you are going, you leave today; you need that long to get to safety anyway. Any questions?”

  There were no questions, but those leaving seemed to be moving a bit faster.

  “I take it you’re staying then?” Kim asked once the crowd dispersed a bit.

  “Only if you are.” He replied.

  Kim thought leaving would make her less of a “New Yorker.” She was here the first time they tried to blow up the World Trade Center, she was here when the towers fell, and she would be here now. She had no place to go and no way to get there, she didn’t even own a car.

  “We stock the bottom level with enough stuff to last a month and we come up when the air clears. I’m sure there will be plenty of the city left.” She told Burke as they watched tenants carrying cases of water and academy award statues to their cars.

  As the property manager, Kim took charge of the planning portion of the exodus. She brought Burke, Anna and her friend Kevin from 505 into her confidence.

  “We make them all go at the same time. We open one door and guard it. Once they are gone, they are gone, no one is getting back in. Do we all agree?” Kim asked her new council.
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  They all nodded.

  “We line the cars up at the garage gate, like the starting line at NASCAR. We raise the gate and let them go. Any walkers stay to the side and go at the same time.” Burke said. “I agree about not letting anyone back in, never know who got bit.”

  “The garage door is in the alley, should be clear enough. Once the door closes we work on getting this place ready.” Kim said.

  At five in the evening Burke got on the building’s intercom. There was a speaker in every condo, office and public area.

  “We are opening the gate in one hour. It will be open as long as it’s safe, and then it won’t open again. Anyone leaving, be ready and waiting at the garage gate at quarter of six. If you don’t make it out, you are staying.”

  As people gathered in the garage some arranged rides with those who had cars. The actor and his fifth wife got a ride with the chef. The lawyer offered the ballet dancer a ride in his Shelby Cobra and the man from 1201 let the couple from 1209 drive his Land Rover so he could lie down in the back seat to avoid sitting on his shot ass.