Linus couldn’t believe it. He stormed almost immediately toward the radio. The garbled transmission became clearer and clearer with each step he took. He trotted away as fast as he could, following the sound of the electric voice.
Linus grabbed the receiver.
“Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?”
His heart wrapped, and his hands shook with overwhelming excitement.
“I repeat, this is Linus Baxter. Can you hear me?”
“…We read you….loud and….clear. There’s a bit of interference….but we…hear you just fine. Over.”
Linus simpered until he laughed.
“That is great news. Hey, listen man. There are people out here that need some help.”
“Are you….in the mainland…?”
“In San Francisco. Where are you?”
“We’re taking…shelter…in Alcatraz Island prison.”
“Who? Are you government?”
“….That’s a negative…government’s…gone…there’s no one here but us civilians and a few rangers…a little less than a hundred in…numbers…”
Linus imagined the number.
“That’s plenty more than there is down here I gotta tell you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he reconsidered what he’d said. Evacuations were always contingent on how many people they thought they could save. Counting the others in his group, all he knew of were five names. What if five names weren’t enough to save?
“How many survivors are… currently with you?”
“There’s twelve of us,” he said, full-knowing that exaggeration wouldn’t hurt. If anything, it would only help his chances.
“Are they with you…right now?”
“Yes. We’re all here, and we’re all waiting for evac.”
“Copy…that. We’ll be going over your request. Ha…ng tight. We’ll be with you in a f…ew minutes.”
The voice signed off. Linus could hear his heart thumping in his ears. Then the noise of footsteps. He turned around. The infected weren’t there, but they were coming. He hurried to shut the door, but as he swung it against the hinge, the infected, male, blocked its path with his hands. He pushed the door back, and ran towards Linus.
Linus stretched the broom in front of him. He pushed it into his torso. The broom went in, but it didn’t slow him down. Not enough. He didn’t react with pain, but rather with vengeful irritation.
“Jesus Christ.”
He motioned closer to his prey, the force of his movements combined with his inhuman momentum. With his back against the table, Linus propped his leg in between him, using it to keep the infected at bay. Linus pushed, causing the man to trip behind the leather chair and fall.
Linus ran out, searching desperately for the nearest makeshift weapon. He entered the lunch room, where the sharpest object he found was a blunt butter knife. The infected backed him against a corner until they met at opposite ends of a lunch table. The infected gave chase from one end, leaving Linus room to run from another. With his shirt tightened around his arm as a bandage, Linus was finding it hard to exert himself for much longer. He had to end it soon.
One of the office rooms he passed by had a baseball bat hanging over a display case. A plaque beside it read Fred Hamilton, and a signature on the bat itself read the same two words, just in cursive.
Linus grabbed the bat off the shelf, smashed it against the infected's face. Its head came clean off, or it would have had it not had a spinal column. Linus felt the metal clench with bone, leaving ripples of noise in the air. The infected fell. And he didn’t get up.
Two seconds later, Erin entered the scene. She came in from the opposite end of the hall and worked her way towards Linus. Linus backed away from the corpse for space. He stood with the bat in his hands, ready, shifting all muscle power into his next swing. Erin ran bearing her face before the rest of her body. She flashed her teeth, spreading her mouth wide open, arms outstretched.
She came at him full speed, then leapt over the dead man’s body. It was right here, as Erin closed in from mid-air that time seemed to slow down. Linus paced forward, arching his wrists for the swing. When Erin landed back on her right foot, the bat met her hard on the side of her eye. She spat, and fell. But much to Linus’ surprise, she was still alive.
Linus towered above the woman, and before she could get up he swung repeatedly at her face until blood began to pour from her nose, her ears, and her eyes. Eventually she stopped.
But Linus didn’t. He continued to pound and pound and pound until he felt her forehead crack. When his hands were tired and he needed to breathe, Linus let go of the bat. He let it drop from the edge of his fingers, and stared at the bodies beneath his feet.
Erin, what was left of Erin, had a ring on her finger. The man lying dead beside her had the same ring, and on the same finger.
7: 42 PM
Night turned the air cold. Linus found a KTLU jacket hanging inside the station’s trophy case. He zipped the leather material over his naked chest, then returned to the recording room, where he received a radio signal coming in from Alcatraz Island.
“Linus here.”
“That’s…good. There might have been…a cut on our…comm…is everything alright…on your end?”
“Everything’s fine.”
He coughed.
“Are you…sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ve got a functioning…ferry on our side. But before…we send it over, we have to know…if there are any infected among…the other…survivors?”
Linus glimpsed at the bite on his arm.
“No.”
“I understand that it…might be a tough…choice to make on…your end…but we can’t allow anyone…that’s infected to come…on board. There’s…few enough survivors…amongst ourselves…we can’t have a…breakout. That means we…can’t let in anyone…that’s scratched…or bit. Do you…understand?”
“Yes,” he answered snidely, his blood boiling over the question. “Say, what’s your name?”
“I’m Jo…nas.”
“Jonas, have you been able to reach anyone outside the country?”
“Negative. Communication’s been…hard…to come by. Outside our perimeter…I don’t know what’s…going on.”
“How about France? Do you know what’s going on in Paris?”
“Sorry. Again…no comm.”
Linus sighed.
“Can you tell me then, when our evac is coming?”
“It’s getting…too dark to send…a ferry over…The coasts aren’t safe at night….As much as we want to help…you, we can’t risk it. Your best bet is…to hang tight until tomorrow. At noon, we’ll be…sending a boat over at…noon. Twelve o’clock. Meeting point is at the pier in Fisherman’s Wharf. Do you think you can…manage that?”
“Yes. I can.”
“That’s good. Hang tight. We’ll see you when the sun comes up. Over.”
The channel on the other end went to static. Linus switched the console off, and reverted his attention back to the transceiver.
Rescue was coming. All he needed to do now was broadcast the message to anyone else that might not have heard it. The only people he could think of were the ones he’d left behind.
Grace, Atton, and Eli were still some forty miles back. They didn’t know about the evacuation. They didn’t know it was coming tomorrow. None of them had ever kept a radio with them, even when Linus told them it would have been a good idea.
But that was then. Now, the only way they’d know to show up was if he went back out and brought them himself.
But the city wasn’t safe at nights. He knew just as well as everybody else that the worst possible time to go out was when they needed a flashlight to step outside. Infected were drawn to flashlights. They were keen enough that they knew what it meant.
It was dark outside. To leave now would have been to put his life at considerable risk. And if he died on his way back, then there would be no one left to
stay on the radio; to tell the other survivors.
Life is all about the tough choices, came his father’s voice inside his mind. You do what you can to survive, no matter what the cost.
As soon as Linus was free, he swore to make sure the others were saved as well. He’d tell the people on the island where they could find them, and when they were finally saved, Grace and everyone else would eventually thank him for it. Even Eli.
But first things first. Linus removed his hand from his keys, and did away with any notion of ever going back. He turned on the radio once more, and sent his next message.
Eli Desmond
Chapter Ten
Day Four
Wednesday
April 23, 2003
9:35 AM
“Kill ‘em all. That’s what I say.”
Eli steadied the shotgun in his hands, and felt the freshly hot chamber around his fingers. The zombies, eight or nine, surrounded them on all sides. But they kept their distance. The zombies wanted to move, to bum rush them, but they knew what happened to the last one that ran too close.
“I swear they act like they’re still alive. Say, Atton. We should probably just kill ‘em all. Just in case.”
Either Atton didn’t hear him, or he did and simply chose not to respond. His cell mate turned partner in crime had an annoying habit of being that way when hearing things he thought were stupid. But then again, he was also like that when confronted with mobs of zombies. 6’5, built like a fucking mountain, yet tense as hell in the presence of retards. Now there was six of them. Nine. And the man could hardly speak.
Behind them, Grace and Linus were tending to the unconscious woman on the road.
“She has a concussion,” Grace told the group, leaning in towards the woman.
“She’s there alright,” Linus added, he too closely examining her features. “But we have to move her fast.”
“Then stop standin’ around there and get her ass inside the truck.”
Atton turned to help Linus and Grace load the woman inside the truck they’d driven in. But with one weapon drawn away from the horde, the zombies were able to pace just a few yards closer. Atton turned back immediately, pointing at the zombies to take a step back.
“Get her in!” he yelled behind him. Linus picked her up, and set her on the cargo hold. In between keeping the zombies back with the threat of his gun, Atton frequently checked their progress.
The woman couldn’t have been much more than a hundred pounds. And yet Linus had to hold his breath when he carried her.
“Goddamn pansy.”
He didn’t bother to count the decades it took to finally get the girl inside the truck. Grace climbed on board, and Atton ran the other way for the driver’s seat. As he started the engine, he yelled for everyone to climb on board. Once they took off, Linus barked for Eli to close the hatch.
“Close it now!”
But Eli didn’t. Instead, Eli inched himself closer and closer on the ledge.
“Eli, shut the damn hatch!”
“Just sit your keesters back inside. I got this.”
The zombies sprinted as hard as they could to catch up with the moving truck. But like dogs chasing cars, the effort was fruitless. They weren’t getting any closer, and so long as Atton kept the truck in pace, the distance between them would only grow farther and farther away.
While they were still in range, Eli took aim on the zombies and showered them with shells. One shot wiped two heads clean. He was impressed.
“Whoo! Ya’ll see that?”
They did. But neither of them seemed impressed. In fact, they both stared back at Eli with a tinge of disgust. Over the course of time he’d come to recognize that expression well. And it was getting tiresome seeing it on their faces whenever he did pretty much anything.
A heavyset pregnant woman jumped into view, and ran towards them teeth jutting out. Eli pulled the trigger on the woman’s stomach. She blew into a hundred different chunks.
It was the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
9:46 AM
Another survivor. Eli was surprised. It’d been four months since they saw another survivor. And to top it off, it’d been even longer since he’d seen a living, breathing woman that didn’t look old enough to be his grandmother.
Grace wrapped a bandage around the woman’s head. The rest of the group huddled around her with intense curiosity. Grace lit up like she was staring at Christ almighty himself.
“It’s a sign,” she said.
“A sign a’ what?” Eli inquired, confused and suspicious as to the old codger’s state of mind.
“A sign that all is not lost.”
Eli rolled his eyes, and left the woman to her delusional fantasies while he raided the store for crackers.
“You shouldn’t fill yourself,” said Grace. “I’ll be preparing breakfast soon.”
And suddenly, Eli felt like he was 12 years old again.
“Can’t stay,” he replied. “Atton and I’ve gotta go back out soon.”
Grace gasped.
“You can’t do that. Not now. Not after what happened today.”
“What happened today is we killed us some zombies, which means we’re runnin’ low on arsenal.”
Grace narrowed her eyes in confusion.
“What?”
“He means bullets,” Linus explained. “Which probably wouldn’t be such a problem right now if Eli hadn’t been wasting them like a goddamn moron.”
“Fuck you faggot,” a term he’d grown accustomed to calling Linus after learning that the man had once been an overpriced snob of a chef during his old, regular life.
“That’s real mature.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Were you expectin’ me to act mature?”
“Just your age. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”
“That right? Well then where are my manners? You know, back in Wyden Hall we settled our shit throwin’ down. Hand to hand, last man standin’ makes his case. You think you can take me down Linus?”
“I don’t have to. Sooner or later you’ll take yourself down.”
“Yeah? Well you know if it weren’t for Atton and me you two wouldn’t be alive right now. You ever think about that?”
“What’s your point?”
“How ‘bout some fuckin’ gratitude you ungrateful piece o’ shit?”
Linus turned away. Then faced him again.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The man was a disingenuous, lying sack of shit, but Eli let it go. He turned to Atton, who had apparently kept their straggler company the entire time. He removed her socks and shoes, and covered her beneath a blanket.
“You take good care of her,” he told Grace.
“You know I will. I always do.”
Eli’s eyes met with Atton’s.
“You ready?”
Grace held on to Atton’s arm.
“Before you leave, maybe we should pray.”
“I’d like that,” Atton replied.
Eli sighed impatiently, but Atton didn’t care. He followed the old woman in a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. Meanwhile, Eli left for the truck outside, silently asking himself how he and Atton had ever managed to be as close as they were.
9:52 AM
As he waited, Eli took to the driver’s seat of their delivery truck. He fiddled impatiently with the tiller to pass the time. He drummed his fingers on the horn, and couldn’t help but be reminded of his old high school days back when he played the drums. He wondered if he still remembered how. If he still had the reflexes.
Before long, Linus came up beside the driver’s window. At first he’d mistaken the ensuing footsteps for Atton’s, but one passing glance at the color of his skin told him better.
“Hey Eli.”
Eli slowly turned around.
“Yeah?”
“I want to apologize again about what I said earlier.”
Eli didn’t buy it. The man was as fake now as he was before. T
he guise of his true intentions shone all-too-clearly through the shroud of his false sincerity. The man was an insultingly bad liar, and Eli was in no mood for his bullshit.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Since you’re going back out there, I was wondering if you could find some batteries to bring back.”
Eli knew the kind, and the reason.
“That radio a’ yours runnin’ low?”
“It’s the power supply, but yeah.”
“Forget it.”
“What?”
Eli simpered at the expression on Linus’ face, reveling at the sight.
“That goddamn radio a’ yours is eatin’ our battery supply like termites.”
“I’m trying to call for help. If it weren’t for me that woman we found would never have known we were here.”
“Who says she ever did asshole? It ain’t like we found a radio on her. And it ain’t like she was runnin’ for the big fuckin’ Costco sign on her way over either. Far as I know, the only reason she even found us was ‘cause she got goddamn lucky. And I’ll tell you another thing too. This shit, you playin’ with that radio, it ain’t nothin’ but a goddamn waste of time.”
“What are you talking about? I am doing my best to help.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been jerkin’ off with that thing a’ yours for just about two whole weeks now, and you ain’t found squat. And if you weren’t a complete fuckin’ dumbass you’d probably try broadcastin’ on a wider range. Move around when you’re sendin’ your signals instead a’ sittin’ in that hidey hole a’ yours.”
Linus shook his head.
“If you don’t want to help, all you had to do was say so.”
He left without giving Eli the chance at another word.
“Fuckwad,” Eli muttered underneath his breath. And finally, Atton showed up.
“Took you long enough.”
Fear of the Dead Page 10
