I hit the ground next to the guard Kate had taken down. He shook his head, dazed, and tried to roll over. Kate slipped down and smashed the back of her fist into his nose.
Her expression didn’t change at all. It was like a blank slate. She leaped to her feet and was off. She didn’t wait for me, and I didn’t hang out to see what was going to happen next.
“Kate!” I yelled, but she didn’t even look back.
She slipped into the directionless crowd of people.
I fled after Kate, barely keeping her in my sight. She lashed out when she had to so as to fight her way through the masses. A woman screamed as she was hit in the face, and a man swore as he was kicked off his feet.
I hit the crowd, and it was like running into a brick wall. Men with guns shouted to keep the peace, and one or two fired in the air, but it did no good. The holding area was in a full panic.
I caught sight of Kate as she came off the ground and landed back in the center of the crowd. Someone cried out and went down. I was in no mood to be polite, and I shoved people out of my way as I trailed her.
I reached a desk and used it to climb up to see where she was going. She reached the back of the room, following close to the couple that had walked past us earlier. She paused as they went through a door that was behind a hanging white sheet. There was a biohazard sign on the sheet, but they didn’t seem to think it was unsafe.
Kate slipped behind the makeshift curtain, and I lost sight of her.
I made for her last location but was cut off by a burly guard. He was huge. Scraggly beard played down his face, in contrast to his pressed and clean green clothing. He stood at least eight inches taller than I. If I wanted to get past him, I would probably need a ladder and a mallet.
Screams behind me, more frantic than before. I didn’t need to turn around; I saw the horror in the guy’s face. What would I do in his shoes? Let the crazies loose and go find a place to hide? Stick around and follow orders?
I didn’t care to find out which side he fell on, so I tried to flow past him. The passageway to his rear at least ran in the direction in which Kate had disappeared. If I could get to it, I might have a shot at finding her.
“Wait a minute, sir,” he said and reached down to stop me with a hand the size of a small ham. Kate might be able to pull some ninja stuff and get away from the man, but I was just a dumb reporter who was unused to physical altercations, and also unused to getting punched in the face.
“He’s with me,” a familiar voice called over the milling people. His voice was cracked, tired, but he put enough authority in it to stop the man from tossing me across the room.
Nelson looked haggard. His face sagged, and his eyes were a shade of red I found eerily reminiscent of the deaders on the street. But deaders didn’t talk, much less give commands. The guard snapped to attention as Nelson drew up to our position.
Nelson looked the man up and down, returned his salute, and then the two men went back to a brooding, odd language—tight, controlled, but seemingly about to unleash violence at any second. I moved to Nelson’s side. He smiled, but there wasn’t much behind it. Then he nodded at the back of the room, his eyes drawing mine to the location to which Kate had escaped.
“That who I think it was?”
“Yeah. How the hell did you find me?”
“Guards at the gate said your name on the radio. I mean, they said ‘Mike and some psycho chick.’ I got the message and told them to bring you in here.”
“Thank you, Nelson. Really. They were going to kill her.”
“Why you so concerned, Mike? You’re not married to her.”
The words stung, but they hurt more because he was right.
A man slipped around a pair of guards and ran toward the place Kate had found. The guards went after him. He almost made it, but they caught up and dragged him back to the mass of people. Another scream and breaking glass almost sent the room into a full panic. We didn’t have much time. Any second, another person would make a run for it, and the masses would get the message that it was time to get out of jail. Most of these people had been brought in because they needed to be checked for bites, even though a twelve year old understood how the virus worked. You got bitten, you started to change into one of them. This was just bureaucracy, plain and simple. I stared helplessly at the throng of people. Everyone looked panicked, and the increasing gunfire didn’t help.
“Nelson, we have to go after Kate.” I pointed at my destination. Nelson followed my finger, then looked at the man who was guarding the post.
“Girl better be worth it.” He shook his head.
Nelson tugged me, and I followed in a daze. This was going to get messy very soon. I wanted to do something, find a way to help, but they didn’t need another gun here. The horror I had witnessed at the checkpoint outside was enough to remind me of that.
Another crash, then screams. I turned to look, but a rush of people blocked my view. Nelson grabbed my hand like I was a six year old about to become separated from his parent. As I turned to follow, he broke into a run with me in tow. I stretched my legs out as we dove into a river of people. Some had been patiently waiting in line a few minutes ago; some had shouted at the soldiers who kept the lines in order. Some were mothers, and some were just lost kids. They all had one thing in common now, and that was panic.
We reached the door with a few on our heels. A blast of automatic fire ripped through the chamber, making my ears ring. I tried to yell for Nelson. I wanted to tell him to stop so we could see what was happening, but he didn’t hear or just ignored me. People dashed in front of him, and he shoved them roughly aside. A man in his twenties went to the ground as Nelson shouldered him out of the way. I turned to apologize, but he was already mouthing the word “assholes” at us while he tried to get to his feet. A woman ran into him, and they went sprawling. Then more people were down and crying out for help. I wanted nothing more than to go back and help them, but Nelson had a death grip on me.
We reached the door, and he slapped his card against a card reader. A lock clicked, and we went through. He slammed it shut in a kid’s face, and then we turned to face each other. I expected to see determination in his eyes, a steely will.
All I saw were tears.
Lester
Lester was just about to take a long slow hit off a shitty pipe the crazy black guy had produced. The chamber was made out of some thin PVC tubing wrapped in duct tape. The top had a screen that was probably older than LeBeau’s skivvies. The weed had made the trip all right, even if it was a little crushed. Nothing wrong with that. Weed tasted the same flat or fat.
Grinder was just about to start drooling as Les put the tip to his mouth and tried to get a spark out of his lighter. He did think about wiping the mouthpiece off, even though it would be terribly impolite. LeBeau looked like a model citizen, a prime example of the best the street had to offer. He probably even brushed his teeth when he could. They were stained yellow, and his breath wasn’t that great, but Les didn’t exactly have a bottle of Listerine. He also didn’t have a tube of hand sanitizer to rub all over the tip and his hands, face and hair.
Well, there were enough things out in the city that could kill him. A little homeless spit was the least of his worries.
He got the beat-up Bic lit and was just about to hit that shit when a burst of gunfire ripped through the air. A truck careened around a corner, jumped a curb, came over the sidewalk and slid to a screeching halt. It was an Army transport covered in tan-and-brown canvas. But men didn’t come pouring out of the back. The only inhabitants seemed to be the driver and someone in the passenger seat with a gun.
The passenger was not in uniform; he was dressed in khakis and a t-shirt with an image of a zombie on it. Lester almost choked as the guy jumped out of the truck, hit the ground hard and started running. The driver leaped out of his side of the truck and staggered. He was covered in blood from some kind of neck wound, but it didn’t stop him from going after his friend.
&
nbsp; They disappeared around a corner, and then there was screaming.
A group of deaders came from the same direction from which the truck had come. That must have been what the men were trying to escape. Now Lester and his new friends were sitting ducks. It was just a chain-link fence. It was strong and high, but if enough of those dead fucks pressed against the side, it would fall like a house of cards.
“God damn,” said LeBeau. “I believe that right there is the answer to our prayers. Your prayers. I was just going to sit this one out. Chill in a car … or sweat in a car. Shit. It won’t cool off until night. That’s okay. I slept through worse.”
Lester wondered who the hell LeBeau was even talking to. He stared at the other side of the fence like he was addressing someone he knew.
“You got a plan? Truck? Hello?” Lester snapped his fingers near the man’s ears.
“Man, you trying to get your white ass killed?” LeBeau turned on him.
“Let me hit this pipe a few times, and maybe I won’t care.” Lester stared back.
“Got salt, boy. I like that, and I guess I like you too. Like you enough to help you get that truck. Then you all git on your way. Leave me be.”
“Well hallelujah. I have a fan. Now what were you saying about a way out?”
“Just get that truck.”
“Get the truck? Yeah, great plan. I’ll just jump on my Harry fucking Potter broomstick, jet over the fence, land on the truck, start it with my magic dick wand and then drive over here while the deaders look the other way. That’s brilliant.”
When Lester paused in his tirade to take a breath, the older man leaned over and laughed until he coughed up a big chunk of something green and phlegmy. Then it was a coughing fit that ended in more laughter.
“Yeah, laugh it up. Asshole.”
“This dude is whacked.” Grinder shook his head and looked at the truck.
It was only twenty-five feet from the fence, but it might as well have been twenty-five miles. There was no way any of them could run out there, get it started, and drive it back without becoming raw meat.
“Now how in the hell do you expect us to get that thing in here?”
“Keys are still in it. All we got to do is get there, start it and back up. See how it sits? You just put it in reverse, and inside the gate you go.”
The older man wandered over, huffing and puffing. His shirt was soaked, his face beaded with sweat. Lester thought the old man was going to pass out the second he arrived. Lester could smell the reek that fear brought out in people. He was awfully familiar with the scent after the last few days.
“You boys thinking what I’m thinking?” Gramps looked at the truck.
“If it involves Geritol, then I’m not. If it involves the truck, I don’t suppose you’re offering to run out there and get it for us, are you?” Lester looked the man up and down. He wasn’t going for a sprint. About the only place he needed to be was in a big bed where he could catch up on his sleep.
“It doesn’t, but maybe we can provide a distraction,” the old man said.
“Wait just a damn minute.” He puffed in the heat, but it was nothing like the sounds the old guy made. Les felt dizzy; his head felt like it was circling his body as it moved around without his volition.
“What now, white boy?” LeBeau asked. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was ready for a challenge.
“It’s a stupid fucking idea. That’s what.”
“How do you know?”
“‘Cause I know!” Les said, exasperated.
“What’s in that building?” Grinder spoke up.
“Nothing, far as I know. It’s s’posed to be blown to shit one of these days. They tried to repair it, but the city shut them down after they failed five or six too many safety inspections. Know how money can buy a safety pass? Not here, no sirree. This mother fucker here condemned.”
“So let’s hide in it,” Grinder said. He looked around at the much shorter people around him and shrugged.
“Can’t. Door’s heavy, made out of metal and braced with something or other. I know some cats used to sleep in there, but then they hired some goons to come in and crack heads. Then they sealed the place up. I don’t think anyone goes in there now.” LeBeau looked at the side of the building and then spat in its direction.
“You tried it?”
“‘Course I tried it. Stuck like a sixteen-year-old Dutch girl with her finger in a dyke.”
Lester shook his head at the image, then laughed out loud.
“That’s good. We need some humor.” The old man wheezed. He looked from face to face and tried to smile.
Les tried to grin as well, but the guy looked terrible. His face was bright red, and sweat ran down both cheeks. He huffed and squeaked, but couldn’t seem to get a breath in. Les had seen his friend Ricky OD back in the day. Ol’ Ricky had a short memory span and didn’t pay all that much attention to the first time he almost met the reaper thanks to some high-grade blow he mixed with a bunch of meth. Idiot. He didn’t even look as bad as the geezer before he keeled over. Les and his friend rushed Ricky to the emergency room, but they didn’t exactly stick around to answer questions.
“So let’s get one of the tanks you were going to blow up and use it to battering-ram that fucker into submission,” Grinder said.
“That’s a good idea.” Lester grinned.
“Then we can hide inside. At least we’ll be out of this heat.” Les glanced up at the glaring sun, tugged his shirt away from his skin and shook it back and forth. The smell made him stop. Jesus. What if this idea was just as brilliant as hiding in the trash can? Grinder deserved a beating, except he was too damn tall by a foot or so. Seemed that way, especially when he was lying on Lester, trying to bash open the bin in which they were stuck.
“All that banging around’s gonna bring more deaders.”
“Ya think?” Lester pointed at the fence where the howling mob tried to force fingers into the chain links not fifteen feet away. Others were joining the mass, and it wouldn’t be long before they battered down the fence.
The blonde clung to their outer circle, her head whipping back and forth between her fellow survivors and the howling mob behind her. The girl’s eyes were huge.
“Do something! Jesus. Jesus! Just do something,” she yelled.
Grinder grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. A piece of skin, probably chicken, clung to one sleeve and picked that time to obey gravity and fall to the ground.
“Don’t worry. We got this shit under control.” His eyes were crazy, his face frightened, and his lips clung together in a smile like they were glued there. As if that weren’t enough, he was still covered in what was now dried-out refuse from the garbage. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Misty, and you smell terrible. Did you take a bath in filth?” The girl pulled away.
“Fucking crazy,” Les muttered.
The old man leaned over to catch his breath. He put his hands on his knees and coughed until Les was sure he was going to pass out. Grinder even patted him on the back.
“Congestive heart failure,” the guy said after he caught his breath. “Know what that is?”
“Like a heart attack? Oh fuck, man. Do not fucking keel over on me. I watched a video once on CPR, but I don’t count so well when I’m buzzed,” Lester babbled.
“My lungs are full of liquid. I was going to see the doc later today, but we got trapped here. Tourist,” he said and tugged at the collar of his shirt.
Tell me something I don’t know, Lester thought.
“Can’t you just cough it up or hang upside down?” The image of a bat leaped into Les’s mind, and he almost broke into laughter.
“My wife’ll help any way you need. Just tell us what to do,” the guy said.
The wife in question wandered toward them and leaned in like they were tossing secrets back and forth. Her clothes were just about the cleanest of the bunch. Even the young one had stuff on her little dress. Momma was done
up for the ball by way of comparison. Her white blouse was breezy and downright fashionable, with billowing sleeves and a matching hat that covered her face, protecting it from the sun.
“Pearl,” the woman said. She held out her hand for a shake, and Lester took it warmly. She was the nicest person he had run into in days. Everyone else was running around like chickens sans heads. Zombie chickens—the downfall of humanity.
“Les. Just Les. The name is Lester, but call me by the shorty version. Angela did, but she’s gone.”
“Was that your girl, son?” the man asked like they were becoming best friends.
“Dead as a deader,” Les said and went to check out the gate so he could ignore the topic.
“Sorry to hear about your loss. I’m Richard, by the way. Richard Brown. I’d shake your hand, but …” The guy looked Lester up and down.
“Right. Richy Rich. Pearl. Got it. And don’t mind the stink. It’s all his fault.” Les pointed at Grinder, which got him a hearty middle finger in reply.
“Let’s get to some breaking and entering.” Gramps grinned.
Kate
She fled again. Dark corridors greeted her. As at the fall of night, she sought the comfort of a place to hide and rest. Rest was an escape, and there was nothing she needed more right now than an escape. The day, all the horrible things she had witnessed, at last they were sinking in. Kate liked to be above things like feelings. After all, she witnessed and participated in many deaths. But this was different, and it required a different Kate, one whom she had watched and sometimes admired, but also one whom she greatly feared.
For the first time in her life, she gave in to fear, gave in to exhaustion, gave in to a baser side and asked the Other to come out. The Other was here now, as her eyes fell on a form that was running toward the back of the room.
It was him! The son of a bitch who left her to the rapist. It wasn’t even that hard to take down the man who had tried to escort her. He had a firm grip on her upper arm, but as soon as they made it into the crowds and away from the others, she had made her move. She was a mess when she arrived and dead on her feet. So of course they only sent one man to escort her.
Among the Dead Book 2 (Among the Living) Page 22
