“Thanks.” I hand Jesse his coat. “Put it on.”
The dock is four feet off the ground. Bodies are pressed to its front, their hands smacking and scratching the concrete only feet away. A short metal staircase on the opposite end, by the building, is crawling with them. Literally crawling. One reaches the top step, about to make it to the concrete. I stick to the middle of the dock, steering clear of the zombies at the back fence, and pull my knife as I run. The man makes it onto hands and knees. I jab the blade into his brain stem. He falls, but the next two are on their way. Jesse, beside me, buries his new knife in one’s temple.
Ethan and Eva go to work at the edge of the dock. After a few minutes, the ones still upright begin to stand on the fallen, and a tall woman drags herself halfway onto the dock before Ethan flings her off. The more we kill, the easier it will be for the others to use the corpses as a stepping stool.
Fifty new zombies march across the field. Once they arrive, we’ll be in bigger trouble. I look up—the flat roof is supported by square steel posts, and the fence at the rear of the dock is higher than the side fence, closer to the roof. We could climb the chain-link and shinny up a post the rest of the way, then pull ourselves onto the roof. A fall will mean dropping into the fray, but standing here, in the midst of the fray, isn’t a better deal.
I point skyward. “We can climb to the roof. I’ll go first and help the rest of you up.”
They crane their necks and nod while I fit my boots into the links. The bodies outside the fence grab at my toes until I’m out of reach. Once I hit the top, I grasp the square support and stomp the strands of barbed wire, which snap and drop out of the way.
I look down at the crowd waiting for dinner to fall, then make the short leap, hugging my body around the pole and pulling up with my hands while I dig the soles of my boots into smooth steel. Another two pulls, and I’ve reached where the pole joins the exposed steel frame under the roof. A thinner bar runs lengthwise. I wrap my sweaty hand over it, thanking God—and Rose—that I have a good pair of leather gloves, then swing my upper body out and up to grab the rooftop. Once my hold feels secure, I let go of the lengthwise pole, move my legs up another foot, and meet the first hand with my second.
I’ve done plenty of pullups in my garage, but none involved the threat of a twenty-five-foot drop into zombies. A little motivation never hurts, but this is overkill. I push with my legs while I yank my weight higher. My chest hits the roof. Another push, a draw of my arms, and I scramble onto the surface, out of breath.
Ethan watches the dock for new arrivals while Jesse and Eva climb the fence. They saw enough of my route that they both find the lengthwise bar without issue. I go to Eva and drop to one knee, my foot planted beside a small lip at the edge. The last thing I need is for her to pull us both over.
When she comes within arm’s reach, I call, “Give me your hand!” She stretches it up. I ignore her splayed fingers and grasp her wrist. “Now the other, and then push with your legs.”
Panic crosses her face, but she complies. I rise and step back as she thrusts her legs, and she slides onto the metal. I leave her there and run to Jesse, who’s already halfway onto the surface, and pull him the rest of the way.
Jesse immediately spins to the edge for Ethan, who’s just now fitting his feet into the chain-link. Once he reaches the top of the fence, he balances the same as we did, but before he gets his body around the post, an enormous, bloody woman slams into the fence.
It sways. Ethan loses hold, his face frozen in surprise as he falls backward. I hear Jesse shout as though from a distance. He’s going to die. Jesse will see his dad eaten by zombies. The thoughts feel impossibly long when they could’ve lasted a split-second at most—a split-second in which Ethan manages to fling his upper body forward and grab the fence links.
He loses his grip and slides down the metal, stopping low enough for a hissing man to catch hold of his foot. His mouth can’t reach, but another grips Ethan’s other foot, tugging him down an inch.
“Dad!” Jesse screams.
He drops to his knees and turns to lower himself again. I lift him by the back of his coat. The kid has heart, but we didn’t make it to the roof so I can tell Rose he died after the fact. “Stay here,” I say.
I lower myself until my feet hit the fence’s top rail, then crouch, one hand on the post, and lean over. Ethan stops kicking long enough to look up. He’s tired. I see it in his eyes, in the quick, shallow jump of his chest. There’s no way he can fight them off long enough to climb to my hand.
I’d be a liar if I said it doesn’t occur to me that Ethan’s fall would solve Rose’s problems—and, a terrible voice whispers, mine—but I won’t let him die. Not when I have a chance of saving him. I avoid the hanging strands of barbed wire and climb down until my feet are level with his waist, then sink into a crouch at eye level. “I’ll wrap my arm around you and pull you up. Climb with me if you can.”
Ethan nods, arms trembling with exhaustion. “My knee is fucked.”
I edge sideways and set my shoulder under his armpit, then wrap my left arm around his torso. I send my other hand up the links, grab hold as high as I can, and straighten my legs. Ethan kicks off the grasping hands, grunting with exertion. Something pops in my left shoulder, but I haul him upward until we fall against the fence out of reach.
Ethan fits his feet into the links and pants. I rest my face against the metal, panting myself. “You have a grip?” I ask.
Ethan nods. His gaze moves to the side of my face, and he grimaces. “The barbed wire. It’s under you.”
I lift my head and feel the metal catch. Two lines of wire rip from my cheek, forehead, and scalp where multiple barbs have dug in. It hurts, but not nearly as much as it will when the adrenaline wears off, I’m sure. “Can you get up there again?”
Ethan nods and inches up, favoring his leg. He hits the pole, then scoots his way into Jesse’s and Eva’s waiting hands. Once he’s disappeared over the lip of the roof, I start the ascent. This time is harder, with my muscles sore and the pain in my shoulder, and I’m thankful for Jesse’s assist at the end.
I drop to my ass on the metal roof. Down below, the zombies have lost their damn minds. I tuned it out before, but now the growls and snarls of frustration fill my ears. The rotten smell fills my nose. Jesse kneels beside me. “Tom, you okay?”
I nod rather than speak. My mouth is parched. There’s no reprieve from the sun. I unzip my coat and let it fall, wincing when my shoulder tweaks.
Jesse reaches into his inside jacket pocket and passes me a handkerchief. “For your face. Hold it there.”
I raise it to my cheek as the wounds begin to sting. When I pull the handkerchief away, it’s red with blood. Ethan takes it and presses it to a spot just above my temple. “Hold it here. None of it looks good, but that one’s bleeding a lot.” I nod, and he drops to the roof three feet away, hands clutching his right knee. “Thank you. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve held on.”
“You would’ve figured it out,” I reply, though I’m not sure it’s the truth. “What’s wrong with your knee?”
“Just a bad knee. It flares up every once in a while, but usually not like this.”
Eva returns from where she was peering over the roof. “They’re not going anywhere. How about we—” She screeches when the metal dents under her boots.
“Sit down,” Ethan says. She gingerly lowers herself to his side, arms around her bent knees, while he studies the surrounding area. “Barry knew where we were going. They’ll come and lead them away. It just depends on when they decide we’re missing.”
“Anyone still have a radio?” I ask.
“I put it in my bag.” Eva gestures at the fence in the distance, where she and Jesse dropped their loads of medications.
“Mine fell off my belt down there,” Ethan says. “Could be a long night.”
“No way.” Jesse positions himself beside me, facing his dad and Eva. “You really think Mom will let
us stay out here all night?”
“Oh, fuck.” Ethan blows out a breath that flattens his lips. “Your mother is not going to be happy.”
“Understatement of the century, Dad.”
Ethan watches the road, shaking his head remorsefully. I’m not going to argue. He was given enough rope to hang himself, and hang himself he has.
Jesse shrugs. “It happens all the time, Mom knows that. She got stuck away from us twice so far. Once when they went to find you and the other time when we went to the school cafeteria.”
“What happened at the cafeteria?” Ethan asks.
“We got surrounded, but she and Tom led the pack away on foot. They couldn’t get home until the next day.”
He shares a few more details, all of which make Ethan shake his head again, this time in admiration. “Your mother…” He smiles, then seems to notice me. “Where’d you stay that night?”
“We ended up at my house. Took the woods home in the morning.” I’m able to answer neutrally, maybe because that night wasn’t anything but the beginning of a friendship. Sheila still lies in our bed, though that thought isn’t as terrible as it was, thanks to Rose. I refuse to think about Jeremy, except to think that maybe I’ve spared Rose that same loss today. If Jesse went after Ethan… I won’t think about that, either.
“God, it’s hot.” Eva walks to where the loading dock roof meets the higher roof of the building, then climbs over the three-foot-high dividing wall. Once there, she says something I can’t hear over the zombies below, then disappears.
“What’d she say?” I ask.
Ethan shrugs as if he couldn’t care less. I definitely don’t, and it isn’t until she climbs over and stomps close again that I hear her say, “Same shit all around the building.” It might be my imagination, but she appeared to get crankier the more Ethan spoke of Rose. Of course, cranky also seems to be her natural state.
“Any shade?” I ask. Eva shakes her head and stares glumly into space. “How about a hatch into the building?”
She nods, then curls her lip. “It’s locked, and, anyway, it’s probably full of zombies down there.”
“The first floor is,” I say. “But maybe we can get on the second if we need to. What time did we leave them at Bi-Mart?”
Jesse checks his watch. “Almost two hours ago.”
“How long until they usually start looking?” I ask Ethan.
“Could be a few hours, could be tomorrow.”
“Guess we’ll wait.” I fold my jacket into a pillow shape, then set it behind me, lie back, and close my eyes. As Jesse said, Rose isn’t about to let us sit here all night.
I dream of Jeremy, who chases me through our house, groaning so loudly that I can’t hear my own screams. I wake when he’s following me up the stairs, running up the stairs the way zombies don’t. I crack open an eye to the same cloudless sky as before, thankful it was a dream. You know it has to be one hell of a nightmare when you’re glad to wake up on a roof with hundreds of the undead clamoring for a taste of you.
Jesse isn’t in sight. Ethan and Eva sit in a small sliver of shade where the roof meets the building, whispering heatedly. I’m thirsty, my shoulder hurts like a bitch, and the right side of my face is fiery. I check my watch. It’s been thirty minutes of dozing, though the dream felt like an eternity.
The sounds from below are the ones from my dream, and they aren’t helping to shake the memory of Jeremy coming after me. Punishing me. I sit up, rolling my head on my neck. That hurts, too. Getting old is for suckers.
Ethan and Eva stop their talking to stare at me. “You look like shit,” Eva says.
“Thanks,” I say.
“No, I mean, your face.” She brushes the side of her own face.
I touch my cheek. The blood has dried, thick in places. Underneath feels swollen and warm. Ethan limps over, and I get to my feet. After a quick inspection, he says, “We can’t clean it now, but we will when we get back. Have you had a tetanus shot in recent memory?”
“Maybe three years ago,” I say. “I got one when I took Clara for hers.”
“Good. Sorry about that. Thanks for saving my ass.”
Now that the exam is over, I step away. “Not a big deal. How’s your knee?” I glance at Ethan’s leg as I ask, then look up in alarm. It’s swelled enough to strain against his jeans. “Maybe we should cut those pants off.”
“Debating it. If we have to run, though, I want protection.”
I smile. “Might be the least of your worries. If we have to run, you’re fucked.”
Ethan laughs. A full laugh, head back. “Tell me about it. Thankfully, I don’t think we’ll have to.” He winces. “I’ve got to get off this leg. Want to join us in the paltry shade?”
“Think I’ll explore for a bit.”
Ethan salutes me with a finger and hobbles back to the wall. If I hadn’t heard Rose’s side of the story, I’d never guess that Ethan angers so easily. But Dad was a charmer, and no one guessed with him, either. There’s always the possibility Rose is mistaken or too sensitive, but for all her flakiness, she’s eminently sensible when it matters.
I climb the wall. Jesse leans on the far corner ledge of the building’s roof, where a couple of tall trees provide a smattering of shade. As I approach, he does a double take. “I know,” I say. “I already heard about how bad it looks.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not too much.”
Once I’ve joined him, Jesse leans over the ledge. “They’re not going anywhere. Are you as thirsty as I am? I can’t stop thinking about drinks.”
“I might be. Guess we should always have our packs on, huh? Or cargo pants.”
“Lesson learned. The hard way.”
“That’s usually the way I learn. I don’t recommend it.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “At least you learn. Some people never do.”
Again, I’m struck by the quiet way Jesse observes what goes on around him. I wouldn’t worry whether or not he had my back in a jam, yet he’s kind and calm. Sensitive, even. It reminds me of Jeremy, and I wonder if my quiet son would’ve handled this world the same way Jesse has. The thought makes my eyes burn along with the cuts on my head. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I say. “If you weren’t, I was thinking of running off rather than facing your mother.”
“Normally, I’d be rolling my eyes, but I can’t wait to see her. Mostly because she’ll have beverages.”
My laugh sets the zombies atwitter on the grass below. Jesse faces the other direction, resting his back on the ledge. “I was going to stare at the street for a while. Want to come with?”
“Sure.”
We walk to the other side of the roof. Ethan and Eva are still in their spot. Eva quickly tucks something into her coat and turns her head our way. “Hey. Want some gum?”
At our nods, she brings us each a piece. It isn’t a drink, but it takes the edge off the thirst. The four of us watch West Eleventh to the east, the direction from which help will arrive. We hope.
“If they don’t come, we’ll figure something out,” I say. “We can see about getting into the hatch if it comes to that. Maybe there’s water inside.”
“They could be down there for days before they get bored and move away,” Ethan says. “We might need it.”
It’s a depressing thought, and I spend the next fifteen minutes inspecting the roof hatch. It’s steel, locked from the inside, and looks harder to open than that drug cabinet. After another round of sitting, Jesse leaps to his feet at the distant sound of engines. A minute later, two trucks pull to a stop at the turnoff to the dead-end street.
I wave my arms. Barry rolls down his window and waves back, then holds up a hand, fingers spread. The transport truck pulls to the side of the road, and the passengers duck out of sight as the SUV lays into its horn. The sound of the engines has already attracted the closer zombies; at the horn’s peal, more begin to cross the grass. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred zombies stumble into sight and lumber towar
d the main road. As the first close in, the truck drives fifty feet down, then a hundred, and then moves off, horn still bleating.
I walk a circuit of the main roof. All are gone except for a one-legged zombie, though he’s gamely trying to catch up on his stomach. Once they’ve disappeared down the road, Barry’s truck starts toward the dead end. I help the others down the fence, then drop to the loading dock. Over two dozen zombies lie on the concrete, and Jesse pushes the ones on the steps out of the way.
Our bags of pills lay where we dropped them, and though zombie feet have scattered some, we collect what we can find and head for the fence. Barry meets us halfway across the grass with a relieved smile. “Glad to see you’re okay. I wasn’t sure I’d find all four of you.”
“You almost didn’t,” Ethan says.
“Let’s get you home.” Barry shoots Jesse a look that’s amused and, possibly, a bit intimidated. “Your mother’s coming after us if I’m not back in an hour.”
Jesse laughs. “Of course she is.”
62
Rose
They came home at the same time another group limped in truck-less, injured, and with two of their people missing. I watched the wife of one of the missing men sob, pulling at her hair and clothes, and I hugged Jesse tighter. Ethan’s knee looked terrible, but I gave him no words of sympathy, even when he apologized. He had to help Rhonda, anyway, since the injured people had a broken arm, a missing finger, a zombie bite, and various other ailments. I wondered what they do about zombie bites, and then I thanked the universe again for sending Jesse home unscathed.
Once I’ve made sure Jesse is okay, and he’s told me the story of their day, I find Tom sitting outside the infirmary with Clara. One side of his face is the usual light brown, the other a haphazardly cleaned smearing of dried blood. His smile is lopsided from the swollen wounds in his cheek, and it’s so goofily cute that my own smile widens.
“Jesse good?” he asks.
The Cascadia Series (Book 1): World Departed Page 61
