City of the Dead (15 page)

Don spun around. The undead poured from the stairwell with weapons drawn, their pale and gray faces alive with glee. Then they saw the helicopter and stopped.

The voice on the bullhorn boomed.

"DROP!"

Frankie and Don ducked, shielding Jim and Danny with their bodies. Steve opened fire, strafing the zombies at head level. Craniums exploded like rotten vegetables. The remaining creatures fired back, then ducked inside the stairwell for cover.

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"Guess that proves they're not zombies!" Frankie yelled. "Let's go!"

She pulled Danny toward the helicopter as it touched down on the roof in a cloud of dust. Don followed with Jim.

All four survivors were battered and bleeding, and for a second, Steve considered that they might actually be zombies. Then he saw the little boy gaze at the unconscious man, and knew better. Only a son could stare at his father with that much love. He helped the four aboard and got them situated.

Quinn sent the helicopter skyward just as the remaining zombies opened a second volley.

The thrum of the chopper's blades filled the cabin. Don and Frankie glanced around in confusion.

"Strap yourselves in," Quinn yelled, flipping up his visor. "It's gonna get bumpy."

He turned away from them and opened fire. The massive rounds shredded the zombies on the roof.

"Who are you people?" Don asked.

"My name is Luke Sky walker. I'm here to rescue you."

"What?"

The red-haired, freckle-faced pilot chuckled over his partner's gunfire and the roar of the rotors.

"Sorry. I always wanted to say that. My name is Quinn and this here is Steve."

"Where are you guys from? What's going on?"

"I'm from Brooklyn. He's from Canada. Like I said, we're here to rescue you."

"Clear," Steve said, and leaned back in his seat, breathless. He removed his helmet. "Whew-that was intense."

Lacking a headset, Don had to shout. "I don't understand any of this. How did you know where to find us?"

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"For that matter," Frankie piped up, "how did you even know we were in trouble?"

"We didn't," Steve answered, reloading his rifle. "There was a big battle near the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey earlier today. Near Hellertown."

Startled, Frankie jumped in her seat, but kept quiet.

"We were sent out to look for survivors. We were on our way back when we saw zombies converging on the garage. We figured with that much activity there must still be somebody alive on the ground. Lucky for you guys we decided to investigate. You folks weren't involved in that, were you?"

Don shook his head. Frankie kept quiet.

Steve reached out and shook Don's hand. Then he reached for Frankie's. She turned away.

"It's okay," Steve told her. "We're not gonna hurt you."

"She's had a bad day," Don said. "And she needs medical help."

"I understand." He smiled at Danny. "What's your name, little buddy?"

"Danny."

"Nice to meet you, Danny. I bet that guy there is your father, huh?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"Because you look like him ... and because you remind me of my little boy, back in Montreal."

"Why aren't you with him now?" Danny asked.

"I-I got stuck in New York when everything happened. I was there on business. I don't know if he's ..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"You should go find him," Danny said. "My daddy came across five states looking for me."

135 "Five states, huh?"

"Yep." Danny counted them off on his fingers. "West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey."

"Wow." Steve's face turned sad.

"My head hurts." Danny rubbed his temples.

"I've got a headache too," Don said.

"That's our fault," Quinn replied. "Sorry about that. Looks like it knocked your father out completely."

"What are you talking about?" Frankie asked.

"Shit." Don pointed ahead of them. "Look at that!"

A massive cloud of dead birds swarmed toward them.

Frankie gripped the seat. "Oh my God."

"No sweat." Quinn grinned. "Watch this."

He flicked a switch and the birds began to drop from the sky.

"What the hell is that?" Don whistled.

"U.B.R.D., or Ultrasonic Bird Repelling Device. I can't tell you how it works, but it's saved my ass more than once. That's why your heads hurt. Guarantee you the zombie's heads hurt worse, though."

"What's it do?" Frankie asked, kneading her scalp.

"Doc Stern can probably explain it," Steve said. "He's the one who retrofitted the chopper with it. He's a medical doctor, but he knows a lot about other stuff too. But basically, it turns their little brains into pudding."

Cold air hissed through the cabin. Frankie shivered, both from the temperature and shock.

Don reached out and squeezed her hand. Smiling weakly, Frankie squeezed back.

Quinn picked up the radio handset.

"Pale Horse, Pale Horse, this is Star Wormwood. Do you copy? Over."

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There was a burst of static, and then a voice answered.

"This is Pale Horse. Go ahead, Wormwood. What's your status? Over."

"Pale Horse, be advised we are returning to base with four, I repeat, four live ones. Our ETA is fifteen minutes. Over."

"Ten-four. Understood Wormwood. We'll have a medical team on standby. Out."

"I still don't understand any of this," Don muttered.

Jim's eyes fluttered, and he moaned, "Danny?"

"I'm right here, Daddy."

Jim smiled.

"So five states." Steve turned in his seat. "Sounds like you people have quite a story to tell."

"First," Frankie replied, "tell us where we're going."

Quinn stared straight ahead as he answered her.

"New York City. Specifically Manhattan. Population eight million or so-ninety-nine point nine percent of which are now zombies. Except for a few of us."

He turned his eyes to the instrument panel.

"Even more specifically," Steve finished for him, "we're going to Ramsey Towers, the heart of the city- and possibly the site of humanity's last stand."

Don frowned. "That's a little melodramatic, isn't it?"

The Canadian shrugged.

"Doesn't sound very safe," Frankie said.

Steve lowered his head as he answered.

"Lady, nothing is safe anymore. We're just happy to live one more day."

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When he couldn't find a functioning radio to contact his forces at the research facility in Hellertown, Ob sent a host of birds with messages tied to their feet instead. His orders were simple: LEAVE BEHIND SMALL CONTINGENCY FORCE TO ACT AS RESERVES BRING EVERYTHING ELSE TO NEW YORK CITY-MAKE EXTREME HASTE-LEAVE NOTHING ALIVE IN YOUR WAKE-ADD TO OUR NUMBERS AS YOU GO.

He stood on the rooftop and watched them take flight into the pre-dawn sky, dead wings cutting through the air.

"Hurry," he called out to them. "I want the message delivered before the sun sets tonight!"

His black leather trench coat flapped in the wind. Earlier, he'd broken into a clothing boutique and dressed his new body, to help preserve its integrity and protect it from the elements longer. In addition to the coat, he wore a pair of black leather pants, and a simple black

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T-shirt. On his feet, he wore a pair of silver-tipped cowboy boots.

A young zombie, once a boy of about six years of age, approached him and bowed. Its flesh was bloated and shiny, and the collar of its tattered T-shirt had sunk into the skin.

"My lord, Ob. It is a pleasure to serve you in this form."

Ob nodded impatiently. "Get on with it. Arise and speak."

"I bring tidings of your two brothers." A tooth dropped out of its mouth as it spoke.

"When did you see them?" Ob asked.

"Three days ago, I was in a place called Tibet. Our kind knew it of old, of course, but that land has changed since we last walked the Earth. Our forces were victorious-the humans were eradicated, as were the other forms of animal life. Nothing lives there now. The entire continent has fallen."

"So the humans in those lands are defeated, eh? That is good news. Their population was among the highest on the planet. Well done. Here, have an eyeball."

He held up a cardboard popcorn bucket, filled to the brim with eyeballs plucked from humans and animals. The zombie took a handful and chewed. Then it continued.

"Yes, lord. Their numbers were high. Especially in China. But those same numbers also aided us. There were so many of them, and their population was virtually unarmed. The resistance was disorganized and over quickly."

"And yet your body was dispatched?"

The undead boy appeared to grow nervous; Ob found the grimace to be an amusing effect on the decayed

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face. His teeth showed through one cheek. "I apologize, my lord. There was a battle in a monastery, and-"

"I care not." Ob held up his hand. "Finish with news of my brothers. What tidings from the Void? What did you hear of them while passing through on your way back here?"

"Your brothers grow impatient, especially now that all the flesh on that continent has been corrupted. The Elilum and Teraphim wish to escape the Void as we have. Your brothers ask that you make haste in freeing them from their eternal punishment."

"They know the rules," Ob grunted. "The Elilum cannot begin the corruption of the plants until the corruption of the flesh has been completed. Those are the rules, established long ago and written in sorcery and blood. We cannot change them. I understand their frustration. They are anxious to begin, for it will take some time. The Elilum travel through the roots, so their way is slower than ours. We have the advantage of going from the Void directly into these meat puppets. My brother's kind must go through a vast network."

The zombie nodded. "Yes, lord. To be fair, your brother Api is patient. He restrains the Elilum. But Ab's rage grows stronger by the day. He wishes for the Teraphim to be loosed upon the planet."

"No doubt." Ob sighed. "But he must be patient a while longer as well. We must all follow the rules as set forth after the Morningstar's fall or we risk destruction. Besides, the Elilum only destroy the Creator's plant life and poison the oceans. That is acceptable. We don't need those things in our struggle. But my brother Ab and his Teraphim will drown this planet in fire. It will burn with each step they take, until there is nothing left but cinders. I am not ready for that yet. There are still many of

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us to be freed and I have not yet sated my thirst for revenge. When we are done, when I have spat in the Creator's face, then my brother and his kind can turn this planet into an inferno. By then, we will be ready to move on to the next one."

The zombie grinned. "Indeed, lord."

Ob tossed a pebble off the roof and watched it fall. Then he turned back to the messenger.

"Come here. Step to the edge and look out upon our Necropolis. Is it not majestic?"

"It is wonderful, my lord Ob."

"I'm glad that you agree." Ob placed an arm around his shoulders. "Now, go and tell my brothers that they must wait a while longer."

The zombie flinched. "Me, lord? But I just got here. I've only been-"

Ob pushed him off the building and watched as he plummeted down, exploding across the pavement in a wet smear.

"I never got along with my brothers."

The sun rose over the city, peeking out from behind a curtain of gray clouds, reluctant to bear witness to the scene unfolding below.

"Hello, Ra, you old bastard." Ob smiled. "Like what you see? Run along and tell Daddy. He always liked you better anyway."

Laughing, Ob turned and walked inside. He summoned his lieutenants and ordered the city searched from top to bottom, beginning at the outskirts of the five boroughs and working inward. Nothing was to be left alive-no people, no livestock. The countdown to extinction had begun.

The sun did not return that day, lost beneath a layer of

141 haze. It saw what was happening, and stayed behind the dark and heavy clouds. The heavens wept.

"Here comes the dawn," the doctor murmured, looking out the twentieth-story window, "but I don't think we'll see the sun today. Looks like rain."

A pretty young nurse with chestnut hair nodded, and then finished bandaging Jim's shoulder.

The doctor shined his light into Danny's eyes and then turned it off.

"Open your mouth for me, Danny."

Danny looked at his father for reassurance and Jim nodded, wincing as the stitches in his head pulled tight against his scalp. His shoulder had been re-stitched as well, and the pus-covered homemade sutures lay discarded in a plastic trashcan with a biohazard sticker.

"You must be feeling better now, Mr. Thurmond," Quinn said. He leaned against the back of the closed door. Except for the poster on the wall beside him- Have you received your FLU SHOT yet? Remember: Ramsey Inc. Employees Receive Them For Free-and the window, the examination room was featureless and sterile. After weeks of living with rot and decay, Jim found the change strangely disquieting.

"Not really. I still feel hot, and I'm weak as a kitten."

"That's the infection," Dr. Stern told him, staring down Danny's throat. "You've got a low-grade fever. It's really a wonder that it's not more serious. Luckily, you've got a strong constitution, Mr. "Thurmond. I've seen people come in with half the damage you seem to have taken and be in far worse condition. What did you do before this?"

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-

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"I was a construction worker down in West Virginia. Built new homes, mostly."

Stern pressed his fingers against Danny's throat, and then shined the light in the boy's ears.

"West Virginia, eh? I knew you must be from the South, by your accent. You're a long way from home."

"While you were passed out in the chopper, Danny said you came looking for him," Quinn said. "That true?"

"Yeah. But I didn't do it alone. I had some help. We traveled up through Virginia and Pennsylvania and into Jersey."

The pilot whistled. "That's pretty impressive. You're all lucky to be alive. Can't believe you made it."