Jolo went ahead with Mac’s plan and they slowly made their way into the city, checking each road before moving on to the next block. It was slow and Jolo was disappointed by the city. There was no color. No life. Very little remained except the metal girders rising up from the ground and even those were rusted and in ruins in parts of the city.
At the fourth intersection Mac stopped and suddenly ducked down behind the remains of an automobile, waving his hand for Jolo to get down too. Jolo didn’t need the binocs to see what had him flustered. Down the side road were about fifty humans milling about. Jolo clearly could see a few Fed uni’s in there and some very familiar merchant company colors, though he figured he would not mention his name again to any random merchant crew members like he’d done with Riley. He was about to jump out into the road and call them but Mac tackled him.
“What doing old fart?” said Jolo.
“That’s the bad guys.”
“What the hell you talkin’ about?” said Jolo. He grabbed the binocs from the hover bike and took a closer look. He focused on a blond lady in a yellow flight suit. She stumbled along with her back to him then she abruptly turned around. Her mouth was black and her face was gaunt. The others milled about in the same way, bumping into each other, making sudden direction changes.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They been in the black too long. Their minds have become addled. I believe the Queen has control of them. They feed on the black at the edge of the ice.”
“Why are they here? Can we save them?”
“They are the Queen’s now. They are beyond our help. Their job, I believe, is to catch strays that might try to gain a foothold in one of the towns.”
“Strays?”
“You and me and anyone not yet taken by the black.”
“If you been eatin’ the black for so long how come you ain’t walkin’ around with that bunch of…” Jolo took another look with the binocs. Their faces were blank, expressionless, eyes wide open, torn clothes. Some missing a shoe. Some missing a limb, or worse. They were all in constant motion, bumping, stumbling, but going nowhere. “…those poor souls.” Jolo looked down at the old man. He was in fine health.
“I faced the reality of the situation. I think you need to also.” He stared Jolo in the eye. “All of your plans ain’t gonna add up to a pile of shite.”
“How can you say that!” said Jolo.
“Keep your voice down,” whispered Mac. Several of the walkers started in their direction. “Shit. They key in on our voices. Maybe our smell. You’ve seen the idiots that run with Hazuki at the front gate. Their minds have slowed a bit, just enough for Hazuki and the Queen to control them, but not like these here. The walkers are gone. Now we must go. They’ve seen us and our path will be more difficult from here on out.”
“I’ll outrun those poor bastards.”
“Yes. That’s what you think. There are more than this and they—” he paused. “They can communicate somehow. Not with words. Almost like they are networked. And if one gets his hands on you they’ll all come and tear you apart. Limb from limb.”
They got on the hoverbike and kept going the same way as before, checking each intersection, then moving forward, heading deeper into the city. Jolo kept checking back, but the walkers never showed up.
Pretty soon they’d made it to the center of the town. Mac jumped off the bike and started crawling around in the dirt in front of one of the skeleton-like buildings. He moved from place to place, muttering to himself, occasionally jumping up and getting a full 360 degree sweep of the area.
“What are you looking for?”
“Landmark. Gotta make sure we’re in the right spot. I counted streets, but don’t want to go to the wrong place.” Finally he found it: a large, round metal plaque. He and Jolo wiped away the dirt. The stainless steel was dirty and corroded in spots, but in remarkably good condition. “Welcome to Macon, Georgia, pop. 3,849,387, Heart of the New South Republic, 2157.” There was an engraving of a bird next to three pieces of fruit. Jolo’s mouth watered. He’d go for the bird first. A distant thought of warm meat filled his mind and he quickly pushed it back out.
He followed Mac inside one of the skeleton buildings that stood guard over the place. The first floor was open and spacious and Jolo tried to imagine what it looked like long ago. He pulled out the Colt instinctively, glanced past the steel girders onto the street: still empty. Mac led him down a flight of stairs into darkness. Once his eyes adjusted he could just make out another large space with corridors leading off to more darkness. This place had a different feel than the mall.
“This was the main admin building. The police force must have had a presence on the top level but I think this is where the office was. All of the big vaults with money have been long since pilfered, but there is one that remains unbroken,” said Mac.
“How do you know this?”
“I lived here for a time before the walkers made it impossible.”
“How many of you were there?”
Mac didn’t answer. He went further into the darkness, then down again. Now they were three levels deep, and Jolo made a mental note of the exit path out to the hoverbike. Soon they were standing in front of a small door. Jolo tried to brush the dust off and his hand nearly went through the corroded metal. He could just make out Georgia State Police, Bldg. 12, Ma— The rest was gone.
Mac led him to a room in the back with a huge vault that was taller than Jolo and extended out to either side of the room. The door had a keypad and a round wheel that he assumed opened the huge bolt locks on either end.
“Is this it?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Jolo went back out to the hoverbike, Colt in hand. He stood just inside the skeleton of the building and checked either side of the street, but there were no walkers. He untied the mini-jet and the rig that Koba had created to hold it in place. There were tools in a bag and some rope, but he couldn’t carry it all so he lugged the jet first back down to the vault.
“I’d go for the lock mechanism here,” said Mac, running his hand along one of the smooth metal rods running the length of the vault door.
Jolo ran back out. When he reached down to get Koba’s rig, he noticed movement off to his right. He knelt down by the hoverbike, and sure enough, a few blocks down, there were a few walkers. He didn’t move, just watched as they crossed his street. More followed. He decided to wait it out, hoping they would all just pass on by. Ten mintutes later and the slow moving procession was still making its way past. It was like some bizarre, tragic parade of Federation and merchant class workers. Some of the merchant unis he’d never seen. He pattern matched a few of them and some were fifty years old. A few wore the same colors Riley wore.
After awhile Jolo’s tense crouch behind the bike had turned into a casual, cross-legged position with his chin resting in the palm of his hand. It was a slow, messy business, these brain-dead humans creeping along. He wondered if they would see him. Wondered why Mac was so afraid of them. Jolo could outrun them, out-think them, and certainly, even with just the Colt, had them outgunned. But they did have numbers. This big group was at least three times the size of the smaller group they’d seen before.
Pretty soon and he’d had enough. In one smooth motion, he grabbed Koba’s rig and made a break for the building. He made it under the girders and glanced back down the road.
Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. He headed for the stairs, then stopped. He took one more look.
One walker heading his way. Jolo cursed under his breath, headed down the stairs and made it back to the vault.
“What took so long?” said Mac.
“Walkers.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they coming.”
“One.”
“If one is coming they all are coming.”
“Ok. You stay here and get this set up. You seem pretty handy for a cook.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“They’ll follow if I yell, right?”
“Yes, but not a good idea. They communicate with each other somehow. Almost like they are linked somehow.”
“Can you get this set up?”
Mac looked down at the jet and the random mish-mash of parts that Koba had assembled.
“It’s a newer model but I’ll manage.”
“Use the pipe and the other bits to hold the jet up to the lock mech in the center of the door.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna lead the walkers in the other direction. I can outrun those stumbling idiots on one leg.”
“Jolo, stay. You can’t beat them!” But it was too late. Jolo ran out into the street and was surprised to see the entire herd heading his way.
Vault
The walkers filled the street, spilling off into the buildings on either side, some getting caught behind abandoned automobiles or what remained of the buildings. Jolo jumped high into the air and was amazed to see how deep the throng of walkers went. He figured there were a few hundred at least. He stood there with his hands on his hips just watching. Some had noticed him and were starting to head in his direction, but the going was slow. Jolo needed to get the whole group past the admin building so Mac could set everything up with no interference.
“Hey! Come on this way!” Jolo yelled, waving his arms. The closest few were about in Colt range but he was not the least bit concerned for his safety. Though Mac’s repeated warnings were in the back of Jolo’s mind so he kept his distance. Pretty soon he had them heading his way. He kept yelling and dancing around like a fool. He jumped up occasionally to make sure the group was moving past the admin building. There were only a few that had strayed off into the admin building front courtyard, but Jolo was satisfied that most of them would make it past. Mac could handle any stragglers if he had to.
After about thirty minutes Jolo had moved the group of humans well beyond the admin building and he was starting to ponder his escape route. He had to double back without bringing the group with him. At the next intersection he turned to the right and lured them all down a side street.
They all started to make the turn. This was far too easy. He had considered taking the hoverbike, but why? The bike was too fast and that would just waste fuel cell power. Jolo sat cross-legged in the center of the street, calling out from time to time. Then he started singing snippets of Federation fight songs. He smiled when he sang the old songs. “Federation man ain’t afraid to die…” He started laughing at that. He shook his head and watched the mass of humans heading towards him. Poor bastards.
The closest one was now twenty meters or so away, a big man with graying hair that reminded him of Barth. He had grease marks on his coverall and wore the standard issue Fed boots with his pants tucked in the way Barth used to do. He was stumbling along like the others but suddenly stopped. They all stared right through everything. Their eyes were open but he wondered what they actually saw. But this big man, his head lolling around like the others, suddenly stopped, righted himself and then stared right at Jolo, his head suddenly still.
“Help me,” he said, his voice clear and perfect, cutting through the animal grunts of the group behind him. “Help me.” He said again. “Don’t let them take me. I am not one of them.”
Jolo jumped up. “Can you understand me?”
The man shook his head, yes. He stood there wobbling like he was going to fall, like he’d run out of energy.
This was a trick. It had to be.
The man reached out for Jolo and took a few more steps in his direction. Jolo fished out his last piece of Fed green and held it up.
“Thank you,” he said. His eyes focused on the green, the horde slowly closing in behind him. “I need that,” the man said, reaching for Jolo’s last bit of food.
“We’ve got to hurry,” said Jolo. “Can you run?”
“Wait,” the man said. He reached out for the food, but instead grabbed Jolo’s arm, his other hand gripping Jolo’s jacket. The man’s eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and his face went dull and expressionless, but his hands had a deathgrip on Jolo.
We meet again, Jolo Vargas, said a voice in Jolo’s head.
The big man started pulling Jolo back with amazing strength. Jolo grabbed the Colt and put it in the man’s face, the stumbling masses a few meters away. They were mumbling and yelling, all heading for Jolo as if guided by some unseen force. They moved in unison.
Jolo had the end of the Colt on the man’s forehead. Suddenly the man focused on Jolo again. “Don’t shoot,” he yelled. “She’s got me. I won’t hurt you.” He said all of this as he continued to pull Jolo back into the crowd.
Jolo didn’t want to kill a human. A man who’d been trapped like he’d been. A man who’d lost his mind along with the rest of them.
In the end, Jolo hit him on the head with the butt of the Colt and the man’s grasp slackened just enough. Jolo kicked at him, and he stumbled back into the crowd. By then Jolo could see into the eyes of the people: blank, vacant stares. Their mouths black. Their tongues black.
Jolo jumped back and turned to run, but there was a smaller group heading back towards him. Mac was right, Jolo thought. This smaller group came from somewhere else. Suddenly Jolo was surrounded.
He looked around in a panic but there was nowhere to go. The only escape was up so he jumped to the second floor of the nearest building. His foot touched down on the crossbeam and instantly gave way. He fell back down and found firm footing on a girder on the first floor. By then the crowd was under him in all directions. The building next to him was covered in black dust so he couldn’t judge if it would hold him.
He gently moved his weight up and down and dust fell down onto the walkers below him. But it seemed sturdy enough. He figured it was only going to get worse so he jumped again, this time high into the closest building. This time the beam held his weight and he ran across it. He ran to the edge of that girder then jumped again down on to the street a few meters out of the walkers’ reach.
He sprinted away, his heart pounding, and didn’t stop until he’d looped around the block and made it back to the admin building. A few stragglers followed him and as he raced down the stairs more joined.
“Mac!” he yelled. And the old man appeared with his rifle.
“Where are they?”
“Coming.”
Jolo ran back to the stairs and there was a big group coming down. Jolo knew he had to block them somehow, but there was nothing to put in their path. He reached for a dust covered chair and it fell apart in his hands. One of the walkers got near him and Jolo pushed him back as hard as he could.
“What are you doing?” yelled Mac.
“Nothing to block them,” said Jolo.
“Shoot ‘em!” he yelled. But Jolo couldn’t pull the trigger. These were people. The closest one was young, maybe not even twenty, wearing a suit. Mac rushed up and fired his gun. The boy fell on his face but didn’t bleed. “Get back before you get us killed.”
Mac stepped back and waited for more of the walkers to get near the bottom of the steps. There was only room for one or two at a time to enter.
Mac shot another one and it fell right in the entrance way.
“What are you doing?” yelled Jolo. “They are human! I spoke to one.”
“No, you didn’t.” Mac shot about ten more until there was a pile of bodies blocking the entrance. They could hear the mass of walkers on the other side murmuring and mumbling something that almost sounded like words.
Jolo sat down in the hallway in front of the police building. “That ain’t right.”
“Ain’t right?” yelled Mac. “Dying ain’t right. Being here ain’t right. They aren’t human any more, Jolo.”
“A man spoke to me.”
“No. The Queen got in your head. She controls them. They been long since dead, only their body didn’t get the message. Those I killed can move on. It’s a mercy to
kill those poor bastards.”
Jolo was out of breath as he entered the vault room. Mac had the mini-jet set up and aimed right at the big lock section.
“Ain’t you some kind of big time pirate?” said Mac. “You ‘bout got us killed back there. If I hadn’t’ve been here what were you gonna do? Run? That don’t work to well.”
“We never killed anyone. Just the BG.”
“Well guess what? That’s the frakkin’ BG right out there wantin’ to tear your legs off.”
Mac stood there shaking his head. Finally, he took a deep breath and started to calm down. “When we fire this thing up they’re gonna hear and they’re gonna want in,” said Mac. “You stay here and get this going. I’ll be outside in case I have to add to the barricade.”
Jolo didn’t argue.
Thirty minutes later Jolo had the mini-jet melting the main lock assembly in the middle of the vault door. There were giant hinges on the left side but Mac was insistent they not destroy the door, just break in. The mini-jet would burn at 4000c plus, and if given enough time, could cut through alacyte, so thirty centimeters of reinforced steel door didn’t stand a chance. The only problem was keeping the thing in place. Twice it started to pull back and almost flew out of Koba’s rig, but Jolo shut it down and reinforced it with a length of chain he found laying on the floor. There was an old sledge hammer and a broken chisel on the ground half buried in dust. The only damage they did was to leave a few scratch marks on the lower hinge.
The other issue was heat. Jolo had to adjust the burn rate quickly, then jump back. Ten minutes of mini-jet and the center of the big door was cherry red. The handle was gone and the long bars that extended the length of the door would be free soon.
A few minutes later Jolo ran to the end of the door and knocked the top bar with the sledge. It didn’t budge. He hit it three more times and on the third strike it moved about a centimeter. He stepped back for a moment to escape the heat. Then he turned off the jet and went back to work. The top bar slid out of the way a few minutes later. Jolo was sweaty and breathing hard, but he started immediately on the lower one.
The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set Page 55
