As they ended their siesta and started their pursuit, they set up their low moaning, and my skin crawled. They slowly rose and walked, forming an undead wall between us and the museum. And the pursuing mob behind us was halfway across the bridge. We stopped, then started inching back.
"Uh, guys, we may have to think about getting citizenship some other day," I whispered. "As embarrassing as it might be, I think it's time we asked the cavalry to come get us."
"I don't think they'd get here in time," Tanya replied. "There are too damned many of them, and they're closing too quick. We need a place to make a stand until help gets here."
"There!" Popcorn pointed to a large clearing by the river, with a bandstand in the middle.
"All right," I agreed, "go, go!"
We ran to the bandstand and went inside. Past it, a wall dropped about six feet to the river. We'd be able to hold them for a while, even once they got to us. Like every bandstand, it had only one entrance, with a low fence around the rest of the platform. The platform itself was raised two feet off the ground, and a hedge surrounded it as well, making it harder for them to get at us quickly from anywhere except the one entrance.
"Jack?" I said into the walkie-talkie.
"We're here, Jonah. We saw you come across the bridge. Where are you?"
"On a bandstand in the park. We need help."
"That's okay. Milton went out looking for you. Just sit there one more minute."
From under the trees, the first of them came out into the light of the clearing. As in the convenience store, they were all races and ages and sizes. And they all had only one thought left in their rotted brains—to bite into our warm flesh.
About a dozen had entered the clearing when we heard the moaning trail off. Milton ran toward us, bashing several of them in the head with a large staff. He got to the step up to the bandstand. "Stay close to me!" he said. "Walk along right on the edge of the wall by the river. I'll clear a path through them. You've only got a little ways more to go."
We did as he said. He walked in front and slightly to our right, arms out, trying to keep them away. Fortunately the mob from the bridge still hadn't reached us, so we only had to make it past the ones from under the trees. They would approach, cringe from Milton, but then reach for us as the hunger overcame whatever fear it was that they had of him.
Popcorn was in the very middle of the three of us. I was in front, and if one got too close, I'd have to give it the bat across the head, or simply shove it into the river, though it was hard for me to strike or grab over Milton's outstretched left arm. Tanya was bringing up the rear, and more of them were getting around Milton's right arm to clutch at her. She lashed out with the machete, careful of Milton when she struck. We inched along, with Tanya leaving a trail of heads and arms along the river wall behind us.
After just a couple minutes, we were out of the park and crossing the street to the museum. The cherry pickers were raised again, and as we neared, the gates opened and people came out to help us the way they had the day I arrived. This time, there was no mob of undead; we easily entered, and the gates were secured behind us.
Milton embraced all of us, bloody and reeking though we were. He raised our hands with his, and the crowd gave us a cheer. At least we were home.
* * * * *
Milton walked into the sculpture garden and climbed onto the base of one sculpture. "Friends, we must decide now on the status of our brave warriors, whether their partial victory is enough to grant them citizenship. I can only counsel you that many times we have decided the spirit and not the letter of the law should prevail in our community. Jack, could you please present the case and examine them?"
I hadn't heard about this part of it. Maybe there was no set protocol for deciding disputable cases and Milton was just making it up. It would be like him. I knew that he liked the theatrics of the whole thing, and I couldn't blame him for his showmanship.
Jack came forward and stood under Milton. "Citizens, these three have gone out, fought, and brought back prizes for the community. They did all this with one of their group, as brave as he is, being only a boy. Within sight of our gates, Milton went out to help them—before they could ask for our help. However, they did, in fact, radio me for help before Milton found them. This is the evidence before you today."
Milton called for questions from the group. "How many did they kill?" someone asked.
I paused to count: the one by the hospital, two in the library, two at the toy store, two running down the street, one in the park. But it was hard to calculate. I wasn't sure I'd killed the one on the stairway in the library. And did the two who fell out the hospital window count? And did it count if we only incapacitated them, as I had the motorcycle cop? And I had no idea how many Tanya had killed as we followed Milton. I assumed I should give us the benefit of the doubt, but I was still faltering and trying to think of what to say.
"More than twenty," Tanya said loudly. For a little more effect, she raised her bloody machete and added, "Their rotten heads lie scattered all over the city!" There was a loud rumble of approval. It wasn't an impossible estimate, surely. (She told me later that it would put us over the number killed by any other group, and that she had long suspected that other groups exaggerated, too. I could see that the new community was only slightly less prone to the excesses and deficiencies of the old world.)
"And what did they bring?" someone else asked. A little greed and bribery were worked into the system too, I saw.
Jack unzipped the duffle bag. He could see the contents before the crowd did, and I could see he was considering which item to present first; to create the best effect for us, I assumed.
He held up the Tylenol. There was only a very slight rumble of approval that dissolved into whispers of, "Could come in handy… We don't have much left."
He held up the books, handfuls of three or four at a time. I think he showed some more than once. The approval was less than for the Tylenol.
Finally, he held up the Playmobil sets. There was a very loud, "Awww! We don't have any of those!" Okay, so they were greedy, but for their kids. As human nature went, it wasn't too bad.
After that, I was pretty sure we'd win on a decision, and we did. There was another cheer, and the crowd dispersed. Popcorn took the Playmobil sets and went off to present them to the other kids. Tanya and I stood with Jack and Milton.
"Thanks," I said. "I hope that doesn't compromise the justice here too much."
Jack was his usual jovial self. "What? You feel bad about it? The kids got some stuff for a change. Milton got his books. And I have a feeling Tanya didn't exaggerate the body count too much, hmm?" He looked sideways at her. "People used to inflate body counts when it was real people they were killing, so they could get the budget increase they wanted. No, I don't think we're doing too badly, by human standards."
"And those are the ones we must live by, Jonah," Milton said. "We will be judged—if, God willing, there are ever again historians to judge us—by how we fared compared to other human societies. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"You all worry about the details," Jack said as he got up to leave. "I have to check the back gate, see how they're doing with the stiffs piling up back there."
"Besides, we didn't even show them everything we got," Tanya added after Jack left. She got out the bottle of nail polish and showed it to Milton. "I'm not sure why, but Jonah said you wanted this."
Milton actually blushed. "No, no, my dear, I'm sure you misunderstood him. I think Jonah meant that he thought you might like it. It's so hard to find and present a gift to someone in our wretched world, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it is," Tanya said, still eyeing the two of us as she slipped the bottle back into her pocket.
Later that evening, we were feted at another of our meager feasts, though someone was thoughtful enough to serve canned hams instead of the less appetizing varieties of canned meat to which we were condemned. Some wag even put together that glop of green beans and
cream of mushroom soup that everyone has for Easter. My guilty conscience and nit-picking about rules notwithstanding, I felt almost as optimistic about the future as I had the night before.
Chapter Eleven
The first thing the next morning, I told Jack about the helicopter on the hospital roof. In hindsight, I guess it should have been counted as one of our accomplishments at our judgment the day before, but I just hadn't remembered it at the time. Jack listened with rapt attention and fascination to the details of the hospital, obviously hatching a plan.
"The buildings next to it aren't taller than the hospital, are they?"
I really hadn't remembered to note such details when I was looking at it from the library. "I don't think so."
"I don't think so either, from what I can remember. And the main entrance looks impassable?"
"Definitely. You'd need a bulldozer to push the wrecks out of the way, and even once you did, you'd be fighting off all the zombies trapped inside."
"And if they were lined up to take a dive off the third floor, it sounds like the whole inside of the place is pretty full of them."
"It sure seemed that way."
He paused to think. "Okay. I think we can send a vehicle over the bridge to the north, and have it circle around to get close to the hospital. When the zombies come out of the hospital to investigate, it'll start to drive away. They'll follow it, then you, me, and Franny—the only person here who knows how to fly a helicopter—will sneak up there and fly it home." Jack smiled, obviously pleased and satisfied with his plan. "I even made sure I had a 24 volt battery on hand, so just in case we ever did find a chopper, we'd be able to jump start it."
"But how will the zombies be able to get out of the hospital to follow the vehicle? That was why they were falling out the window: the entrance was so blocked they were all jammed in there with no way to get out."
"Oh, now that's going to be a little bit of a fun part, if you like that sort of thing. Come with me."
Jack took me to the main exhibit hall. On the one side was an archway labeled "GEMS AND MINERALS." I'd seen it every day, but had never been inside; a big metal gate was closed across it and locked. It seemed to be part of the original design of the museum because it was the one room where they kept things valuable enough to warrant such security. I hadn't even thought that the survivors used it for anything special, but today Jack unlocked it and we went in.
The room only had the one door, with no windows, so it was dark and cool inside, like a cave, even during the day. The beam from Jack's flashlight fell on various crystals and gems, which sparkled with an unearthly magnificence. On top of several of the glass cases were laid rows of firearms and ammunition.
"This is where we keep some of the bigger or more unusual weapons, the things that we don't have in the lockers for people to grab just for everyday use." He chuckled a little. "People used to have towels that were only for special company—we have guns and bombs that are only for special company!"
His light fell on a pile of about a dozen wooden crates, each about four feet long and ten inches square at the ends. "We brought these with us when we tried to defend the bridge, but we never got a chance to use them. I've been wondering when they might come in handy."
We stepped close enough to be able to read the lettering stenciled on them. Jack shined the light on one, and it said "M136 AT4 HEAT." He moved the light to another box that was labeled "M136 AT4 HEDP."
"What are they?" I asked, being almost completely unfamiliar with any weaponry beyond civilian handguns.
"Shoulder fired, light anti-tank weapons. If you saw it, you'd probably call it a bazooka. These are much more modern, one-shot weapons. They fire a rocket with a shaped charge, very effective against tanks and other vehicles."
"So why don't you fire them into a crowd of zombies, to blow them up?"
He smiled at my naďveté. "You got to pay attention, professor: I said they were effective—against tanks. The projectile carries a shaped charge, for penetrating armor, so it doesn't make a big explosion outward, or send out lots of shrapnel. That's what you'd need to take down a group of stiffs. No, these are pretty useless against the undead, I'm afraid, so here they've sat."
"They'd only be of use against other people, since only people drive vehicles."
Jack looked sideways at me, the light from the flashlight illuminating our faces from below, the way you used to hold a flashlight to scare your sister when you were little. "You know, it's a little reassuring, and a little sad, to meet someone as cynical as I am. But yes, that's just what I've been thinking. If some bad guys came sniffing around here, trying to hurt us or take our stuff, these might be just the thing to make them go away."
We walked back out of the minerals gallery, and Jack locked it back up.
"Okay," I said, "so why show me now, when we're talking about getting the helicopter off the hospital roof?"
"You wanted a way to let all those zombies out of the hospital, so they could follow our vehicle away from it, and we could get in without much trouble. So why not blow a hole in the wall and let them out?"
"I thought you said it didn't make a big explosion?"
"That's why it's good we have both kinds of ammunition. It comes in two main types: ‘HEAT' stands for ‘high-explosive anti-tank.' That would just make a small diameter hole if we shot it at a wall. But ‘HEDP' is ‘high-explosive dual purpose.' They made it for taking out walls and bunkers and buildings. Still not much good against personnel, but it would make a pretty big hole in the side of the hospital. And when the dust settled, out would come the zombies. And in we'd go."
"How do you know they're all going to come marching out?"
"Oh, I don't. The blast should skrag any that are unlucky enough to be standing right by that wall. A lot of the ones who are nearby won't be able to hear for hours, so that should help us sneak in. The rest should go to investigate what's going on, like they usually do."
"What if the chopper isn't gassed up?"
"Might not be. Maybe that's why they left it up there. But even if it's down to fumes, we should be able to make it the couple of blocks to get over here."
"Sounds pretty risky. I'm not sure I'm glad I brought it up."
Jack smiled. "Hey, you risked your life for Playmobil. If this works, we're going to have a real helicopter on our roof. That'd make life easier, and safer."
And that was that. The plan was logical, and it had a practical, physical benefit. With Jack, once that was determined, there wasn't much discussion. So we were going the next day to try and get a helicopter.
* * * * *
By mid-morning, I was at the rear parking lot. We didn't leave at dawn, as we didn't expect this to take too long, and we wanted to take advantage of the relative scarcity of zombies in the midday sun.
Jack was inspecting the vehicle and its crew. It was a small dump truck, the kind a landscaping company would have. Apparently, it had been the truck assigned to help maintain the grounds of the museum and the park across the street, so it had been in the museum parking lot when the crisis began; they were lucky enough that there were keys to it in the museum. One man would drive the truck, with three in the back to fire the missile and to fight off the zombies that would try to climb up.
Jack made sure they had plenty of weapons, besides a couple of the AT4s. He was usually very conservative with ammo, as he had been the night I arrived, but to get his helicopter, Jack had armed them heavy, not just with the usual hand-to-hand weapons, but with plenty of guns and Molotov cocktails. This was to be his prize, his legacy to the community, leaving it better protected and provided for.
Once the truck crew was settled, I went with Jack to the roof of the museum. Franny was there waiting for us. She was a tall, blonde woman with big blue eyes. She wasn't gorgeous, and just a tad butch, but with her height, blonde hair, and athletic build, she was quite striking in her own way, especially in fatigues and a flight jacket, as she was dressed now. She had been part of Jack's
group and was very competent at work in general and combat in particular. If I had picked anyone for Jack to hook up with, it would've been her rather than Sarah, but I was almost always wrong about such things.
Jack reached under his jacket and pulled out my Glock and my magnum. "A man should have his own hardware," he said, smiling and handing them to me.
The plan was for the truck to go do its thing, then we'd go across on the zip line as the men in the truck led the zombies away from our goal. Jack was carrying the battery; I'm sure he was the only one of us who could, as it was heavy. We watched the truck pull out of the parking lot, the gate closing behind it. It slowly circled around, across the bridge to the north, and into the city.
In a couple minutes, they were outside the hospital. They reported over the radio that a few undead were already investigating them, attracted by the sound of the engine. Then we heard the explosion. They reported that they were driving away with a large, undead crowd in slow pursuit. "If you're going to go," the speaker said, "you should go now."
Two men looking through the scopes of rifles reported that the landing area for the zip line was clear, and we went. When we got to the hospital, there was a hole about four feet wide and five feet high in the side. Up the street, about a quarter mile away, the truck led the mob away from us. We could hear their occasional gunfire, and there was no sign of the dead in our immediate vicinity.
"The first floor should be clear," Jack whispered, "but they're probably still all over the upper floors, so make for the stairwell and up to the roof as fast as possible. And don't make a sound."
We ran across the street and through the hole, into the hospital. As Jack predicted, the remains of several zombies lay right near the opening, either completely dead with glass and masonry stuck in their heads, or just immobilized by the flying debris shredding their legs and torsos.
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