“Yeah.”
“How many?”
“I saw three before, including the big one. Gargantuan.”
“Gargantuan?”
“That’s what I call him.”
Zoe leaned back, then took an unnecessary step away from the edge. She looked across the street at Barry, shielding her eyes against the sun. “So now what? We’re over here, and he’s stuck over there. Unless he can fly.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t see a big S on his chest.”
A scream pierced the air, coming from one of the nearby alleys. It lasted too short for Cole to locate the exact origin, but Barry apparently had a better idea and was racing across his rooftop to the other side to get a better look, disappearing from their view.
About thirty seconds later, the man walked back to where Cole and Zoe could see him again.
“What happened?” Cole shouted across the street.
“Can’t see shit!” Barry shouted back. “They’re all over the place. Like cockroaches!”
Barry had just gotten out cockroaches when Cole caught a flurry of movement behind him, coming from the rooftop access shack.
“Oh, no…” Zoe said breathlessly. “How…?”
“Behind you!” Cole shouted.
Barry spun around, lifting the shotgun, just as a man in a butcher’s plastic apron, the morning sun gleaming against his balding head, raced across the gravel rooftop with a meat cleaver in his right fist.
Boom! as Barry fired and the butcher’s entire right arm detached from its body, the meat cleaver flipping through the air.
The man twisted against the impact, slowing down for just a brief half-second, but didn’t stop.
Christ, do they even still feel pain? Cole thought as he watched the man continue charging at Barry like a raging bull.
Barry was racking the shotgun when the butcher crashed into him and the two bodies went over the edge and down to the sidewalk below.
“There goes the shotgun,” the Voice said.
Or maybe not, Cole thought, because somehow between the roof and the street, Barry managed to reverse his position and landed on top of the butcher, whose melon-sized head exploded on impact against the concrete sidewalk.
Blood, bones, and flesh splashed the immediate area, along with the crack! of the shotgun splintering as it fell a few feet away from Barry’s grasp.
“The shotgun,” Zoe said.
“Yeah, that shotgun,” the Voice said. “We could have used that shotgun.”
Yes, we could have, Cole thought. We could have used a man who knew and was willing to use it even more.
“Get up,” Zoe was saying next to him. She was surprisingly restrained, almost whispering. But that didn’t last, because she shouted the next two words as loud as she could: “Get up!”
Cole was unable to look away, caught somewhere between desperately wanting to help Barry and knowing that the only way to accomplish that would be to run out into the open and make himself a target, too. Because that was what it would take.
But he couldn’t do that.
He had to get home.
He had to get to Emily.
Sorry, Barry, Cole thought as the man staggered up from the sidewalk, stumbling away from what remained of the headless butcher. It really didn’t look as if there was much still there; as if a watermelon had gone splat and all that was left were the insides—red flesh and black seeds. Except, of course, Cole knew that those weren’t “seeds.”
Barry was clearly woozy on his feet and having trouble gathering himself. Cole watched as the man grabbed one of the iron bars fastened over Junior’s windows in order to steady himself.
“Get inside!” Zoe was shouting. “Why is he just standing there?”
“He’s not,” Cole said. “He’s concussed.”
“Get inside, get inside,” Zoe said anyway, like she was reciting a chant, her words getting even louder. “Get the hell inside!”
Cole didn’t bother joining her plea. It wasn’t going to help. Barry wasn’t going to hear them; and even if he did, he wouldn’t understand what they were saying. He’d managed to survive the fall from the rooftop, but the impact hadn’t been kind. Barry was definitely showing signs of a concussion, and it was throwing him off. It was throwing everything off for the guy.
“He’s a goner,” the Voice said.
Cole agreed, but he didn’t say it out loud.
“Inside,” Zoe was saying. “Please, get inside,” she added, much softer that time. Maybe because, like Cole, she knew it was hopeless.
Barry was shaking his head like someone trying to fight off grogginess, but of course it was more than that. He was trying to figure out what had just happened and having difficulty. Without the hoodie obscuring his face, Cole could make out a big mustache and pale skin. Barry looked Hispanic, which probably explained the accent Cole had noticed earlier.
“He should be moving,” Zoe said. “Why isn’t he moving?”
“He’s doing his best,” Cole said.
“He should be moving,” she repeated, as if he hadn’t said anything.
A flurry of motion as something raced out of an alley two buildings down from the furniture store.
Gargantuan.
“Oh God,” Zoe gasped.
“He’s fucked,” the Voice said.
The massive crazy was swinging the large metal rod, the blood-caked surface glinting against the sun as he raced up the sidewalk. A man his size shouldn’t have been able to move that fast, but he was.
Somehow, he was.
It’s the adrenaline, Cole thought. The thing that turns them into killing machines. It’s driving him. It’s making him faster than he should be.
For a split second Cole reached for the Glock in his waistband, but then he calculated the distance—and the angle—and didn’t pull the pistol out. He had limited ammo, and there were no guarantees he’d hit his target. At least not the way the man was running up that sidewalk, because goddamn, he was fast.
Cole just watched instead, even as Zoe shouted, “Watch out! Oh God, watch out!”
Barry may or may not have heard her, but he turned anyway and saw what was coming at him. For a few seconds, time seemed to stand still as Barry stared, as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Maybe the sight of the crazy charging with the rod in his hand just seemed so out of place, so…impossible somehow, that Barry couldn’t get his head around it.
Gargantuan ran right past the lost shotgun Barry had dropped, not even giving it a second glance. Because he didn’t care. The metal in his hand was all the weapon he needed. It was all the weapon he wanted.
The talk with Dante, about how the crazies didn’t use guns, echoed in Cole’s head. Not that it meant anything at the moment. Certainly, it didn’t mean a damn thing to Barry.
Barry finally—finally!—snapped out of his stupor. The man turned, pushing away from the window, and lunged for the furniture store’s entrance nearby. He grabbed Junior’s doorknob and tried to wrestle it open, but it wouldn’t budge.
Of course it didn’t budge. Because the same thing Barry had used to keep the crazies out earlier was now keeping him out.
“Irony,” the Voice said.
Tragic is more like it.
“Same difference.”
No, it wasn’t. But instead of wasting his inner monologue answering himself, Cole wondered how the hell the butcher got into Junior’s and snuck up behind Barry in the first place? There had to be another way in. A back door, maybe. So if Barry could find it—
Cole grabbed Zoe while she was staring helpless down the street and turned her all the way around just as Gargantuan reached Barry and sunlight flicked off the moving steel pole as it swung with wild abandon through the air.
A very loud thwack! reverberated up and down the entire block and rang inside Cole’s ears even as Zoe sobbed uncontrollably in his arms.
“Don’t look,” Cole whispered, even as he thought, I should have tried to save him. I should have use
d the gun.
“You did the right thing,” the Voice said. “Getting to Emily is all that matters. And saving as many bullets as you can will help you accomplish that.”
But I could have saved him.
“Could you?”
Maybe...
“Maybe is a long way from yes.”
“Cole,” Zoe whispered.
“Don’t look,” Cole said. “Just…don’t look.”
Even as he kept her from looking, Cole heard the thwack! as Gargantuan swung with the pole a second time. Barry was already dead. Barry had to have already been dead, so why was he still swinging? Why—
Thwack!
Goddamn you, Cole thought.
Thwack!
Thwack…!
Chapter 26
They had enough food and water to last for at least a couple of weeks if they conserved as much as possible, but that wasn’t the plan. Cole had no intentions of lasting that long—at least, not stuck in an antique shop while Gargantuan and however many crazies lurked outside waiting for them to surface.
He had places to go, and people to see.
And he would accomplish both of those things even if he had to kill every crazy currently circling their position. The trick, of course, was to do that and stay alive himself.
“That’s always the trick, isn’t it?” the Voice said.
You’re damn right.
“So why don’t you listen to me more?”
I am.
“No, you’re not. If you did, we wouldn’t be stuck with three women and a cripple right now. We would be home, with Emily.”
You don’t know that.
“And you don’t not know that.”
Cole shook his head. There was no point in arguing with himself. The Voice had a bad habit of spinning everything to make Cole doubt his decisions.
“I’m the reason you’re still alive to even doubt yourself,” the Voice said.
Maybe.
“There’s no maybe about it.”
Maybe, Cole thought again and managed to silence the Voice’s nagging.
At least, for a while. But a while, for now, was good enough.
After the incident with Barry (“We could have really used that shotgun,” the Voice said.), Cole had Dante keep an eye on the streets from one of the second-floor bedroom windows. The kid was used to staring outside while sitting in his wheelchair and had proven to possess a sharp eye. Fiona, meanwhile, continued looking for supplies in the two floors, but by now she had pretty much exhausted every nook and cranny.
An hour after watching Barry get his head obliterated by Gargantuan (Cole wasn’t able to keep Zoe completely from seeing the aftermath, though he’d spared her most of the as it happened part), Cole found Zoe crying in the bathroom down the hallway. She was supposed to have gone to check on her wound, but he knew better.
She tried to wipe away the tears when Cole knocked on the door and, before she could tell him to come in, peeked inside.
“You okay?” he asked.
She flashed him a pursed smile. It wasn’t even close to being convincing. “Why? Don’t I look okay?”
“Not really.”
“Well, you’re wrong, because I’m just fine and dandy, like you and Dante.”
He stepped inside and closed the door. There was a small window on the other end of the room, providing enough light for him to see how pale she looked. Her eyes were puffy, the result of crying since, if he had to guess, she came in almost twenty minutes ago.
“Fine and dandy, huh?” Cole said.
Zoe picked up a small face towel and dabbed at her cheeks. “Maybe not quite so fine or so dandy.”
“It’s okay, you know.”
“What is?”
“To feel the way you’re feeling.”
“And what’s that? What am I supposed to be feeling right now?”
“A dark feeling that comes with having been witness to another human being getting murdered before your eyes.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
She put the rag down and looked over. “You’ve seen it before. I could tell. Not just something like that, but worse things.”
He leaned against the counter. He wasn’t sure if this was what he’d come in here to talk about, but he was here now, and so was she. There were plenty of ways around the topic—and he’d used pretty much all of them since he “retired” and found himself in the company of “civilized people,” as Emily called them—but it didn’t seem appropriate here. At least, not if he wanted to keep counting on Zoe.
“You really think you can count on her?” the Voice asked.
Yes, I think so.
“You should reconsider.”
Why?
“She cares about her kid. That’s all. If it means leaving you behind to save the kid, she’ll do it.”
Maybe, Cole thought as he locked eyes with Zoe.
“It’s not an easy thing, you know, the last couple days,” he said. “But I think you already know that. It’s not easy for me, either. This…whatever this is—it’s unheard of. We’re in uncharted waters here. There are men and women outside this building waiting for us to poke our heads out so they can take them off at the shoulders. And for what reason?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure anyone will know. Or care. At least, not in the next few days or weeks or months. If there are survivors out there like us, that’s exactly what they will be focusing on—staying alive. They won’t care about the hows or whys or whens. It’s about survival. And that’s why I need you to keep it together.”
“Me?” Zoe said. The surprise on her face and in her voice was obvious. “Why me?”
“I need someone I can count on. That’s you.”
“But why me? Why not Fiona? Or Dante?”
“For one, Dante’s in a wheelchair. And Fiona…” Cole paused for a minute, before continuing. “She’s done well so far, but you’ve been doing well for the last two days. I can count on you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so sure.”
“She’s got a point,” the Voice said.
Cole said anyway, “I am,” even though he didn’t fully believe it.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” the Voice laughed.
But he had to say it out loud for Zoe to hear, because he did need her. Not to help him fight crazies if they had to, but to keep the others in line. Her daughter, Fiona, and Dante. He needed someone he could count on, and Zoe had been that since all of this began. He’d committed himself, for better or worse, to these people (“Definitely worse,” the Voice snickered.), and he couldn’t just abandon them now.
He needed Zoe, but she also needed her confidence back. If not entirely, then enough for her to stay functional. To stay dependable. Even if he didn’t think it’d last for very long. All it had to do was last just long enough.
“Don’t tell her that,” the Voice said, still laughing.
No, I definitely won’t.
He said instead, “I need you to keep it together. Help me with the others. We’re going to have our hands full getting to Bear Lake, but we can make it.”
“You really think so?” she asked. She was looking at him with that hopeful gaze he’d seen on Fiona earlier. It was almost desperation.
“Yes,” Cole said. “We’ll get there. But I need every hand on deck to make that happen. That means I need you.”
Zoe nodded. He wasn’t sure if she fully believed him, but there was just enough conviction to make him think he could count on her when the chips were down. At least, until she either had to choose between him, Dante, and Fiona, and her own daughter. When that time came, he was pretty sure he knew her decision.
“And you still think you can trust her?” the Voice asked.
No, but I don’t have any choice right now.
“You did, but you blew it.”
Yeah, yeah, Cole thought, and just barel
y managed to suppress a regretful sigh in front of Zoe.
“Okay,” Zoe said.
“Okay?”
“Okay. You can count on me.”
“I know I can. Now, how’s the shoulder?”
“It hurts like the dickens.”
Cole smiled. “Good thing for you Dante’s aunt had plenty of codeine.”
“Where are they?” Cole asked, leaning against the wall next to the window across from Dante, who had been camped in front of it for a while now.
“Around. Everywhere,” Dante said.
Dante held up a notepad; the kid had drawn a rough outline of the street and buildings outside, and there were multiple X’s on it. Cole thought that was cute. He hadn’t taken Dante for a notepad sort of kid. Wasn’t that for old people who didn’t know how to use smartphones?
“That’s where I’ve spotted them in the last few hours,” the kid continued. “They come and go, depending on where the others are at any given moment. So, not exactly reliable, but you get the gist.”
“How many did you see?”
“Counting the one you call Gargantuan? About ten. Pretty sure there’s more. But ten is the number I can swear in court to. The others are just better at staying hidden.”
“And the ones you could identify; they never stay at one same place for long?”
“Nope. I think Gargantuan is hunting them, so the others have to constantly move around to keep from being picked off by him or another crazy.” He seemed to think of something, before adding, “I wonder why they don’t just team up against him?”
“That would require cooperation,” Cole said. “I haven’t seen anything that would indicate they’re capable of something like that. Not that they’re stupid, by any means. If anything, they seem to be very intelligent. But cooperation requires trust. And I think that’s one of the very first things that disappeared when they were infected. From what I can tell, they’re lone wolves. Singular threats. The good news is—”
“There is good news?” Dante said, grinning.
“The good news is, they’re just as dangerous to each other as they are to us.”
“I can dig that.”
Cole picked up movement along Junior’s, but it was gone before he could identify who had created it. It couldn’t have been Gargantuan, since it was next to impossible to miss the man’s hulking figure. He was fast, but he wasn’t that fast.
Fall of Man (Book 1): The Break Page 20
