The Way of All Flesh

by Tim Waggoner

  “Kate? Do you still want to speak?”

  She became aware that Rich was looking at her, along with the other Council members, the guitar man and his wife. She could feel the gazes of the rest of the survivors on her as well, all of them watching her and wondering why she was hesitating.

  She had a choice to make. Should she disrupt the memorial service on the unlikely chance that what she’d experienced was real? Or should she play her part in Joe’s farewell like a good girl? In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to deviate from the program. Joe’s death had come as a shock to the survivors, and she didn’t want to add to that by playing the girl who cried zombie.

  She stood and walked to the lectern, concentrating on keeping her stride steady. Rich smiled, stepped aside to make room for her and then returned to his seat. She gripped the lectern for support, drew in a breath, and realized she didn’t know what to say.

  And then it came to her, and she began speaking.

  “I’d known Joe for almost a week before I discovered that all his experience dealing with disaster situations came from playing an online game. At first I was skeptical that he could make any real contribution to our survival. But I knew he had something special to offer the day he gave me a list of supplies to find. There were a number of obvious items on it. Food, bottled water, antibiotics. But at the top, written in capital letters and underlined, were two words. Board games. I asked him why they were so important. He looked at me for a couple seconds, then said, ‘People will need to keep their minds active to fight depression, and they’re a great way to promote bonding and create a sense of community. That’s just as important to long-term survival as having enough to eat and drink.’ Then he smiled. ‘Besides, they’re fun.’”

  A number of people in the audience nodded their heads silently, some laughed, and a few even applauded.

  Kate smiled. She’d found several board games in Joe’s quarters when going through his possessions. She was grateful for the inspiration they’d provided. Relieved that she hadn’t ended up tongue-tied in front of everyone, she finished by saying, “That was Joe,” then she returned to her seat.

  The guitar man and his wife were up next, and they began singing, predictably enough, “Amazing Grace”. She pretended to pay attention to their performance and tried to ignore the growing feeling that something bad was coming—and soon.

  When the service concluded, people adjourned to the cafeteria. The survivors didn’t have much in the way of extra supplies, but humans had used food and drink to remind themselves they were still alive in the aftermath of death for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. So what if this time the offerings consisted of warm soda and stale candy bars? It was the symbolism that mattered, not the food itself.

  The Council lingered in the gym afterward to speak with anyone who wanted to express their grief in a more personal one-on-one manner. Since few of the survivors had living family, the Council formed a receiving line of sorts after memorial services. And as one of the speakers, Kate was expected to remain with the Council and speak with anyone who felt the need. She did, but it wasn’t easy.

  She hadn’t seen Marie or Nicholas leave the gym, and this further fueled her worries that they’d never been here in the first place and were off somewhere fucking like rabid weasels. She wanted to find Marie and confirm that her fears were nothing more than insecurity-fueled fantasies, but she didn’t know how to make an early exit, graceful or otherwise.

  She was listening to Alisha Lopez—a women in her mid-twenties who, like Joe, had spent a lot of time on the Internet playing Risen—tell her about one particular game where she and Joe had found themselves on the same team of zombie slayers, when Nicholas entered the gym, soaking wet.

  “—were surrounded, and Joe had the idea that one of the team should sacrifice themselves so the others would have a chance to survive. He volunteered, but I insisted we all draw straws, and while I was trying to figure out what to use for straws, he snuck away from the rest of us, and—”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said, “but I need to talk to Nicholas. It’s, uh, Ranger business. You know.”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

  Alisha left, looking disappointed and embarrassed, and Kate felt guilty. She told herself that she’d catch up with Alisha later and ask her to finish her story, but right now she had to talk with Nicholas.

  She met him halfway, but before she could ask why he’d been outside, he said, “I need to talk with you about Marie.”

  She worked to keep the fear she felt off her face. “Is she okay?”

  The rain was coming down even harder now. Thunder cracked, and Kate jumped despite herself.

  “I’m not sure,” Nicholas said. “I saw her go outside before the service began. I thought she was heading out to do another one of her experiments, so I followed. She didn’t go far, though. I saw her enter the groundskeeper’s shed. I tried to go inside, but she’d locked the doors behind her. I knocked and called her name, but she didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t hear me over the sound of the rain. Or maybe she didn’t want me to see what she was keeping in the shed. I figured I should come get you. Maybe you’ll be able to get her to open the door.”

  Kate was having trouble accepting Nicholas’s story. Could Marie really have some kind of makeshift lab in the shed, and if so, what in the hell did she do in it? Even if Marie did have a lab, why would she choose to go there instead of attending Joe’s memorial service? Kate knew the shed Nicholas was talking about. There was no cover between it and the school, just open ground. Even as good as Marie was at sneaking out, there was no way she could reach the shed without a sentry seeing her.

  Then again, given the weather, the sentries might not be as vigilant as usual. There had been no real trouble from zombies in the last couple months, and the rain was coming down hard. She could imagine the sentries deciding there’d be no harm in getting out of the cold and the wet for a bit, at least until the worst of the storm was over. They could shuck off their rain ponchos and maybe sneak down to the cafeteria for a hot cup of coffee or tea.

  Maybe that was why she’d gone to the shed—she’d counted on the sentries being distracted by the rain and everyone else being too involved in Joe’s memorial service to notice her absence.

  It didn’t feel right, though. On one level Nicholas appeared absolutely sincere, but on another, he seemed to be watching his own performance with amused detachment.

  Screw it, Kate thought. There was a simple way to find out the truth.

  “Let’s go.”

  They grabbed their rifles and 9mms, slipped on a pair of rain ponchos and headed for the Performing Arts Center. The official way in and out of the school was an emergency exit located backstage in the PAC. The door was sturdy metal and secured from the inside by a makeshift crossbar formed from several rods of rebar bound together with duct tape. There was always a guard on duty to let people out and back in again—or at least there was supposed to be. No one was here right now. She didn’t know who was scheduled for today, but then, why would she? That was the sort of detail Joe had taken care of. Whoever it was had probably left their post to attend the service.

  Kate wasn’t sure they should go out if there wasn’t a guard on duty. The door could be locked on the outside, and every Ranger had a key, so it wasn’t as if they’d be leaving the door wide open if they left. But with no one to bar the door behind them once they exited—not to mention guard it—that one lock would be the only thing keeping the door secure. Even with the door unbarred on the inside, she knew the odds of a zombie getting in were almost zero. It would have to know which door to try, and it would have to batter it down—and that was assuming any zombies even showed up during the short time she and Nicholas were outside.

  We’re coming to get you, Katherine.

  She held back a shudder at the memory of the teenager’s words. The feeling that something was wrong—seriously wrong—hit her again, bringing with it a nauseating surge of panic.
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  “Kate?”

  “I’m all right. Let’s be quick about this.”

  He nodded, removed the crossbar and placed it on the floor. Kate drew her 9mm, as did Nicholas, and then he slowly opened the door. Rain and wind blasted inside, but no zombies surged through the doorway, hands outstretched to tear into their flesh, teeth bared, milk-white eyes clearing as they closed in on their prey.

  Nicholas went out first, and Kate covered him. She then stepped into the rain and stood guard as he closed and locked the door behind them. Visibility was severely limited by both the rain and cloud cover, and she could see no farther than a dozen yards, if that. Still, she gave Nicholas a hand gesture that meant all clear, although she wasn’t confident it was an accurate assessment.

  Together they started through the high wet grass toward the shed, which was nothing but a dim silhouette in the rain. As much as she wanted to run—to both find out what Marie was up to and get out of the rain as fast as possible—she forced herself to go at a measured pace. The last thing she needed to do was slip on the wet ground and land on her ass. Or worse, twist an ankle or, God forbid, break a bone. What had been simple injuries in the world before Blacktide were now potentially fatal ones, especially injuries that hampered one’s mobility, and she didn’t—

  She stopped walking and grabbed hold of Nicholas’s elbow.

  He spun round to face her, features twisted into a mask of frustrated fury.

  “What is it?” he snarled.

  As shocked as she was by his reaction, it paled beside what had caused her to stop. She felt a familiar presence, one that she supposed she’d first become aware of in their shared womb.

  “David’s here.” She paused. “And he’s not alone.”

  The first of the figures emerged like a living shadow detaching itself from the darkness that gave it birth. A roughly humanoid shape outlined in the rain, its features grew more distinct as it came closer. She saw that it was dragging one of its feet, just as David had when he’d left the playground carrying Lizzie. She saw no sign of a child-sized figure walking with him, and she feared the worst for her niece. For an instant, she thought she did see another adult figure—or nearly adult—accompanying David, but then it was gone, as if it had been nothing more than an illusion created by gloom and rain. Soon she was able to make out others following in David’s wake, dozens upon dozens of them, and she remembered the vision she’d experienced during Joe’s memorial service.

  They really were coming to get her. Maybe get them all.

  “No!” Nicholas shouted. “You lousy rotting fucks! This is my day, not yours! I’m Death! I’m Death!” He shrieked these last words, raised his 9mm and started firing at the approaching mass of silhouettes.

  At David.

  Kate grabbed hold of Nicholas’s wrist and shoved his gun hand downward. He managed to squeeze off one last shot, but the bullet buried itself in the ground. She expected him to turn on her and demand to know what the hell she thought she was doing.

  Instead, he swung his left hand and hit her a solid blow to the jaw. She lost her balance, from surprise as much as pain, and fell on her butt. Water soaked through the rear of her jeans, cold against the skin of her ass, but she barely noticed. Her jaw throbbed like a motherfucker, and she heard a high-pitched ringing in the ear on the side where he’d hit her. Her vision seemed a little funky too.

  For an instant she saw Nicholas as an ivory-skinned monster with burning red eyes and a mouthful of shark teeth. But then her head cleared, and he returned to normal. Although she was beginning to suspect that word no longer applied to him—if it ever had.

  She feared he might attack her further. She’d managed to keep hold of her pistol as she fell, but she didn’t want to shoot him, not unless she absolutely had to. But once she was down, he ignored her and focused on the approaching zombies. He resumed firing his 9mm and emptied the remainder of his clip without doing any significant damage. Normally, he was an excellent shot, but he was so swept away by rage that he couldn’t shoot straight. When he was out of ammo, he didn’t bother reloading, nor did he throw his pistol at the oncoming zombies, as adventure heroes always did in the movies. Instead, he lowered the weapon to his side, turned and began calmly walking toward the shed. As he passed, Kate saw that his expression no longer held any hint of emotion. He might’ve been a statue, a machine…or a zombie.

  It’s not Marie’s shed, she realized. It’s his.

  She felt a sick twist in her gut, and she rose to her feet, intending to chase after Nicholas—

  —but found herself standing face-to-face with her brother.

  She froze. In all the time she’d been a Ranger, she’d never been this close to a zombie before. At least not one that was still active. She knew how fast they could move when striking. If David attacked at this range, there was no way in hell that she’d be able to stop him before he sank his teeth into her with bone-crushing force. He didn’t attack, though, and neither did any of the zombies standing behind them. They stood motionless, as if David was their leader, and they were waiting for him to give them their next orders.

  She looked into David’s eyes, tried to reach out to him through their twin link, but all that happened was an image popped into her head, one she’d seen before—multicolored lights swirling around vast emptiness. She sensed this image came from deep within her brother’s mind—or what remained of his mind. She also sensed that during this moment of connection, he’d pulled an image from her thoughts. And she knew which one it was.

  David turned to look at the door that led into the PAC. He then slowly raised his hand and pointed to it. He did nothing more—made no sound, didn’t glance at his undead soldiers—but he didn’t need to. The gesture was sufficient. The zombies under his command began to stagger toward the high school, picking up speed as they went, no doubt sensing all the fresh meat inside. In life, her brother had been the manager of a restaurant, working to feed others, and it seemed as if he was fulfilling the same role in death. She could almost imagine him saying bon appétit! as his followers headed for the door.

  “David, call them off! Please!”

  He looked at her, rainwater sluicing down his face, streaming into his eyes. He didn’t blink, not once.

  He turned away from her and started toward the shed. She saw no sign of Nicholas and assumed he’d gone inside. She had no idea what the fuck her brother could possibly want in the shed, but if Nicholas hadn’t been lying about Marie being in there, she had to stop David from entering. He might not have attacked her, but that didn’t mean he’d show similar restraint when it came to Marie. Besides, David wasn’t the only predator she had to worry about. There was Nicholas.

  But if she followed her brother, who would stop the rest of the zombies from breaking into the school? Already the first of them had reached the door and had begun pounding on it. The door had been fashioned from thick, sturdy metal, but she doubted it could stand up to the assault of what seemed to be every goddamned zombie in the whole town.

  But how could she stop them? So far they were all following David’s command and were ignoring her, but she feared if she displayed any sign of aggression toward them, that would quickly change. She’d end up zombie kibble, and the undead fuckers would still get in. And there would be no one to help Marie.

  If only the sentries had been outside… There was no way they could stop this many zombies, but at least they could warn everyone else. She could run around the side of the building and find another way in, pound on boarded-up windows and shout to get people’s attention, if nothing else. But that would mean abandoning Marie—and David—and she knew she couldn’t do that. Praying that someone inside had heard the sound of Nicholas’s gunfire, she started running toward the shed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  David wasn’t sure why he’d turned his back to the female demon. She was armed with one of her people’s sinister bone-and-flesh weapons and could put a bullet—or whatever the damned thing fired—into him
at any moment. But he sensed that she had no intention of harming him. She’d helped him save Lizzie, hadn’t she? He didn’t think the creature was necessarily good, wasn’t sure her kind was even aware of such human concepts. But she’d done him no harm so far, and he hoped that would continue to be true.

  “I don’t know,” Simon said. “You did bring a whole army of cannibals to feast on her people. A thing like that could change a girl’s mind.”

  “How many times have I told you to stay the fuck out of my head?”

  “Not enough, evidently.”

  David continued toward the small building. He had watched the other demon, the male, run to it, moving so fast his form was little more than a blur. He had entered and shut himself inside—with Sarah. David could sense his ex-wife’s presence, and, this close, her essence burned white-hot as a star in his mind. There were others too, but they were of no concern to him. They weren’t her.

  Blood rain continued to fall, as if the sky had been sliced open by some unimaginably huge blade and was pouring its life upon the earth. The demon stronghold loomed like a leviathan on his right, black and smooth as obsidian. The structure resembled a medieval castle, complete with turrets and towers, but one formed from insect chitin instead of stone.

  David was aware of the lives cloistered within the dark edifice, nearly a hundred in all, just as he was aware of every one of his followers. They had obeyed his command to break into the castle, and dozens of fists pounded on the door the demons had used to exit the structure, the sound of their blows rising over the ssssshhhhhhh of rainfall. His followers were covered from head to toe in crimson, and David realized that in their own way, they looked just as demonic as the creatures they were trying to get at.

  “What can I say, David? It’s a monster-eat-monster world. Always has been.”

  More and more of his followers pushed forward, trying to get to the door, crowding the ones already there, threatening to crush them. He didn’t command the newcomers to step away, though. If the door wouldn’t fall to fists, perhaps it would collapse under the combined mass of so many bodies pressing against it. A number of his followers would be injured or even killed that way, but in order to achieve a goal, sometimes sacrifices had to be made. And it wasn’t as if the dead would go to waste. Those who survived would see to that.