Zombies! (Episode 6): Barriers Collapse

by Ivan Turner

  Melissa lingered a minute, looking after him. "He's very excited," she said. Then, to Abby, "Are you all right?"

  "I'm not sure," Abby said.

  Melissa chuckled, then walked away.

  Abby watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Now Abby stood alone on the darkened street. She didn't know whether to be more afraid of the zombies or the criminals that might be lurking. Still, she couldn't very well stand around and do nothing so she started putting up the leaflets. Much to her surprise, the monotonous work helped her relax. The white papers stood out well against the dark building. While she worked, Abby thought about Martin and what she was going to tell him. If she planned on continuing with Peter, she would have to let Martin know. He wouldn't like it, but she couldn't lie to him regularly. Just the one lie was eating away at her. Whitaker hadn't called which meant that Martin hadn't called them gym. But it was getting late and Whitaker would be leaving soon. Then, if Martin called, there would be no one to answer the phone. She supposed he'd then call her cell phone directly, but how would she explain why no one picked up at the gym? There were too many contingencies to plan out. She'd either have to come clean with him or give up the whole operation. What she needed to ask herself was whether or not this was something she really wanted to continue. After all, was this really going to make a difference? She could already see that she would have to fight an uphill battle in order to present it properly to the public. Peter was so venomous. When he said he wanted to go into these buildings and wipe out all of the zombies, that wasn't just talk. He would line each one up and shoot them all himself if he could. Melissa wasn't much better. Melissa was a woman who'd had nothing but her child and then he had been taken from her. It was a tragedy on top of a tragedy. And now this.

  It was about forty minutes later when Peter came back. Abby looked at her watch and saw that it was close to ten. She really needed to get home, which promised to take a long time because of where she was.

  "We need to go," Peter said. "Where's Melissa?"

  Abby shrugged. "What's wrong?"

  "People were starting to take notice. There. Do you see?" He pointed and Abby looked across the street. There, in a third story window, was a wizened face with a curious scowl. "It's only a matter of time before someone comes to investigate. I don't really want to hang around to answer any questions." He looked left and then right. "Not in this neighborhood."

  Beckoning for her to follow, he started down the block toward where Melissa had gone. Abby hastily stuffed all of her remaining materials into her bag and followed. They had almost reached the corner when Melissa came bounding around the other side. She looked badly shaken.

  "What happened?" Peter asked, grabbing her by the arms to stop her.

  She looked at him and shook her head. "Nothing. I was just startled, is all."

  "By what?" Abby asked.

  "Just a hand. It punched through the window."

  "Were you scratched?" Peter asked in a dubious tone of voice. To Abby, it didn't quite sound like concern.

  Melissa looked him in the eye and what was reflected there was something indecipherable. "No."

  Peter held her stare for a moment, then nodded. "Let's go."

  They got into the car and Melissa drove off. As they left the area, Abby could see someone moving slowly down the street. She couldn't really see the person and then they turned the corner. She never noticed the flames.

  ***

  THE fire spread quickly, consuming old insulation and dried wooden beams. By the time the fire department arrived, there was a genuine blaze. People in the surrounding apartment buildings had filed onto the street.

  "I saw some people," one old woman was saying. "They looked like they was hanging signs."

  Grant, fully suited and ready to go, hopped off of the truck and looked up at the building. It was old and abandoned, but he was worried there were squatters inside. The condition of the building would make the inside excessively hazardous. Feeling a heavy tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Lemmon pointing up at a top floor window. Grant had to squint, unsure of what he was seeing at first. Then it was clear. There was someone inside.

  They signaled the others and then went inside. It was a good bet they'd get reprimanded for the rash action but that was the kind of guy Lemmon was. Grant was normally much more careful. Normally.

  The fire had consumed much of the first floor and the smoke was blinding. With their masks in place, they pushed forward. The staircase was nearby and they went up quickly and carefully. Though the smoke had traveled up, it wasn't nearly as thick. The heat, however, was almost unbearable. The flames had broken through the ceiling below in several places giving the building the look of an apartment set in a volcanic cavern. Lemmon pointed upward, indicating the third floor. It was the top floor and where they had seen the shadows. They moved up together.

  The third floor was dark but mostly clear of smoke and flames. For now, the floors would be solid. The two firefighters split up. By himself now, Grant moved carefully down the hallway. He called out a couple of times. Is anyone there? I can help you out. There was no answer. He could hardly hear anything anyway but if someone had shouted he'd have known. A door up ahead and on the right led to what he believed was the apartment where he'd seen the shadow. He went up to it and pounded his fist against it.

  There was no response.

  "I'm coming in," he shouted first trying the knob and pushing on the door. It opened easily, the locks to this place having long since gone unused. As he stepped in, he was confronted by the unexpected.

  There was not one but six zombies in the apartment. As a firefighter, Grant's job didn't bring him into contact with the undead. He fought fires, not ghouls. Having never seen one before, he was taken completely by surprise. Screaming for Lemmon, he fell back into the hallway as they descended upon him.

  By the time Lemmon arrived, Grant was buried under the swarming mass of undead. They were clawing at each other to get to him. Lemmon was a big man, aggressive by nature. While he, too, had never seen a zombie, he wasn't the least bit put off by them. He'd heard of them and accepted them. He'd figured it was just a matter of time before he got to see one. With his gloved hands, he grabbed the most accessible zombie and lifted it cleanly off of the pile. Tossing it away, he grabbed another.

  At the bottom of the pile, Grant was trying frantically to get clear. The zombies were scraping at his mask and biting and biting. But his heavy firefighter's gear protected him. With Lemmon's help, he was able to pull himself out and get to his feet.

  "Are you hurt?" Lemmon asked.

  Grant shook his head. "Pissed myself, though."

  "It'll dry."

  They turned back to the staircase and saw several more of the undead heading in their direction. Coming through the smoke like wraiths in the night, they varied in size and age and color. There was a small boy in long pants and a winter coat. There was a religious Jew with his skullcap and fringes. Grant and Lemmon looked at each other. They were pressed by the ones coming from the staircase and those recovering from Lemmon's attacks. With nowhere else to go, they backed down to the end of the corridor where there was another door. Even before they opened it, they knew what they were going to find.

  ***

  HERON was at home when he got the call and at that time of night, he was only a few minutes from the scene of the fire. With a quick apology to Alicia, he put on his pants and his coat and got on his way. He called Henry as he went, ordering a squad to meet him at the scene.

  "Lieutenant Heron?" the captain asked as he arrived. "Les McCallister. Take a look at this."

  Heron accepted the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out. On it were the words ZOMBIE SAFE HOUSE! Looking up at the blaze, Heron assessed the situation. The building was old, probably condemned, although there could be homeless inside. Because of what had happened at Angus Construction he knew that someone was collecting zombies. Apparently someone was out to expose them. The paper in his
hand had probably inspired someone to set the fire, which compromised the integrity of the entire neighborhood. And so the dominoes fell. It would be nice if just once these idiots would call the police instead of taking matters into their own hands. Frustrated, he shoved the paper into his pocket.

  "Is anyone inside?"

  "Two men," McCallister confirmed. "Are those things really in there with them?"

  Heron looked around them. A crowd of onlookers had encircled them, the inner portion made up almost entirely of the other firefighters. He nodded.

  McCallister looked at his men and nodded. Gathering up axes and battering rams, they moved inside the building.

  ***

  GRANT and Lemmon fought like animals. The zombies were strong but slow and the firemen were in excellent physical shape. Trapped on all sides, they pushed their way toward the staircase. It was the most viable way out. They threw fists and elbows, hitting the zombies with blows that would have taken down any normal human being. But zombies didn't feel pain and they were resilient. Still, it was nearly impossible for them to bite through the firefighter's heavy coats and other gear. They weren't really in any danger of infection.

  "Come on!" Lemmon yelled when Grant began to falter. "We're almost there!”

  They weren't. They hadn't even reached the first apartment yet. But they couldn't know that. The hallway was completely choked with smoke and the vile creatures. The zombies clawed and bit and grabbed and pulled. If either of the men lost his footing, it would be the end of him.

  "What's that?" Grant shouted.

  "What?" Lemmon answered.

  "I thought I heard…"

  All at once, the floor beneath him erupted into a jet of flame. He screamed as the boards peeled away. Lemmon felt the heat and retreated, pushing a group of zombies back with him. All of those surrounding Grant were engulfed in fire. Some fell through the hole after Grant. Others tumbled back and burned. Lemmon screamed Grant's name once but in vain. His gear might protect him from the heat but the fall… It might not kill him.

  Doubly motivated now, Lemmon fought doubly as hard. He grabbed zombies by their arms, their clothing, and their heads, and tossed them this way and that. He pushed them into fire and down toward the hole. He struggled his way forward inch by inch, body by body. At last, the staircase was in front of him and most of the zombies were behind. The smoke was so thick now that he couldn't see the floor or the area just ahead of him. With the hoard coming up behind him, he didn't have time to be careful. If the steps were compromised, he would fall. Lemmon's brain allowed him to just accept that as fact and he charged forward.

  There were a couple of more zombies on the stairs. Apparently they'd been on the second floor as well as the third. They were no problem, though. He ran into them and through them, charred and blackened things. What kept them going, he couldn't know.

  At the landing he stopped up short. Through the plumes of smoke, he caught a glimpse of a blackened glove. A moan reached his ears. The moan of a live person. It was Grant, Lemmon knew. He'd managed to grab hold of a stray support beam and was dangling between the second and first floors. A terrible part of Lemmon's brain told him to just go and save himself. That terrible part argued that he would wind up killing them both if he tried to help Grant. But Lemmon wasn't just a firefighter by trade. His was the heroic nature. It was why he'd rushed into the building in the first place. Batting aside a recalcitrant zombie, he went into the corridor, got down on his knees and grabbed hold of Grant's hand. Hanging from the remnants of the floorboards, Grant looked up at him and smiled through his foggy mask. He reached up with his other hand and Lemmon pulled. As large as Lemmon was, Grant was no small affair. Add on seventy five pounds of equipment and you have slow going. Despite all, though, it looked as if they were going to make it. Grant got his leg up over the side and Lemmon heaved with the best of his strength. Then three zombies appeared from the haze and set upon them. Out of instinct, Lemmon let go of Grant and fought the zombies. Grant struggled for a moment then fell. Then the floor collapsed and Lemmon and the three zombies tumbled after.

  As they hit the bottom floor, the rest of the squad was rushing in, ready to fight fire and zombies to rescue their friends.

  ***

  AFTER Grant and Lemmon had been pulled out of the building, the rest of the firemen went to work on fighting the fire itself. Both Lemmon and Grant were badly hurt and had been rushed to the hospital. Grant was not expected to survive. Heron‘s men protected the fireman from any stragglers and cleaned up the zombies that survived the blaze. When things were progressing smoothly, Heron got on the phone with Smith to ask him if he'd seen anything like the leaflets the fire captain had handed him. Smith confirmed that they had arrested two people at Angus Construction Yard putting up the same signs that very night. They’d turned out to be the parents of Tiffany Percy, who'd been bitten there the week before. According to their statements, they'd printed the fliers themselves and didn't know of any other locations where zombies were being collected.

  Heron ordered them questioned further. Then he wanted the DA to bring absolutely any charge he could against them. Clearly someone had set this fire in response to those posted signs. Now two firemen were critically injured. Before the day was out, Heron was determined to know who else was involved and see them in custody.

  ***

  IT was after eleven when Abby got home. The apartment was dark and quiet. Martin had gone to bed early. Heading into the bathroom, Abby stripped and got into the shower. Normally, she liked to shower in the morning but now she felt dirty. She couldn't quite explain it to herself. Nothing she had done was illegal or even unethical in the true sense of the word. At least, nothing except lying to Martin. And yet she felt as if she had turned a corner in her life, given up the purest piece of herself. Of course, she knew, it was because of Peter and Melissa. Both of them were truly damaged people. The source of Melissa's pain was clear, but not Peter's. They had suffered the same trauma, Abby and Peter. From the very first minute, they had both been there. What was the difference? Abby had worried for Sammy the entire time. But he had been fine. Peter had lost colleagues. Was that the deciding factor? Once you lose someone, anyone, to the zombie plague, does it make you so bitter?

  Heron wasn't that bitter.

  After her shower, Abby towel dried her hair, brushed it out quickly, and went to bed. By that time, it was midnight. Martin was laying on his back, snoring softly, the blankets tangled throughout his arms and legs. Abby tried to extricate them, but she'd have had to wake him up to do it. Instead, she went to the hall closet to retrieve the twin sized comforter they kept there. On her way back, she peaked her head into Sammy's room. He lay in his little bed, his blanket tangled up through his arms and legs. Like father like son. She smiled. She had so much and couldn't afford to lose any of it. But was what she was doing going to help protect them or drive them away?

  With a heavy head, she crawled into bed beside Martin and pulled the narrow comforter over her body. She turned on her side and stared at him. She tried to stare at him for a long time, but couldn't. Sleep came quickly, driving the conscious thoughts from her head and opening the door for the nightmares.

  ***

  ARRICK'S boring life had become ever more so since the passing of Suzanna DeForest. True, she had been one of the nastiest women he had ever met, but she had provided him with an escape from the mundane existence of teaching and, well, nothing else. It bothered him that she was gone, but bothered him even more that he was mostly concerned with his boredom. It showed either that he hadn't loved her or that he just didn't have it in himself to care about others. As the days went by, he began to feel more and more as if it was the latter rather than the former. Of course, if he didn't care about others, he could hardly have loved Suzanna. As such, he was presented with a full blown identity crisis.

  Always shy and pampered, Arrick had forever shunned strong personal relationships. He was close with his brother, in spirit if not in distance.
His relationship with his parents had become strained ever since he'd moved from Scotland to the United States. His father had died before they'd had the chance to reconcile and even though he'd spent months with his poor widowed mother after that, they had grown no closer. He had a few friends and was occasionally invited out. Sometimes he went and sometimes not. Either way, it depended on his mood at the moment. Before the summer, he'd joined Push Ups gym as a way of doing something with his time other than grading high school English essays. It was there that he had met Suzanna.