Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine (7 page)

“Excuse me, do you boys really
think it matters what we call them?” Sarah hissed.

“Yes.” Both men replied together.

“OK. Fine. To most people, we’ll
call them Zombies, but to the authorities and doctors, if we ever talk to any
again, we’ll call them Infected.”

“Why bother to change the name at
all?” Tripper asked.

“Because it’ll sound more official,
and less like we’re insane if we sound like authorities ourselves on the
situation. You know, like we know what the hell we’re talking about and not
like we’re a bunch of Doomsdayers flipping out. We’ll need to quickly obtain
their attention, adequately explain the situation, and insist on their
assistance in as believable a manner as possible given the surrealism of the
situation.”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised in respect.

“She’s got a Masters, Doc,” Trip
said proudly. “We’re not all uneducated hicks here in the Midwest.”

“I never said you were. In fact, I
believe the majority of higher educated persons come from the Midwestern
communities, looking for something more out of life than farming and fast
food.”

“Is that true?” Sarah asked, her
deep, emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“No idea,” the doctor admitted. “Seemed
like the thing so say since we’re here.”

All three smiled, but were aware
enough not to laugh.

“So what are we going to do about
getting to my building?”

“Is there any other place we can
go?” the Doctor asked.

“We can head back to the Police
station,” Trip suggested.

“I don’t know if their doors could
sustain heavy battering,” Sarah said uncertainly.

“We don’t know that it would come
to that,” Trip argued.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me
watch all those movies. In every one at some point a bunch of Zombies bash down
some solid-looking doors and rush in, killing half the group. That won’t happen
to my building.”

“Fair enough,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, me and the doc could run
past the corner whooping and hollering—”

“—excuse me,” the doctor
interrupted.

“What?”

“I graduated from Johns Hopkins and
did my residency at the American Hospital of Paris. I’ve also had a forty year
career in medicine during which I worked and taught at six of the finest medical
institutions in the world,” he paused and stared at Tripper.

“And?” Trip asked.

“And I do not whoop…or holler.” It
seemed distasteful to him to even say the words, much less consider actually
having to perform the acts.

“Fair enough,” Trip sighed. “Me and
the Doc here will round the corner
making a lot of noise
…” he paused and
eyed the doctor, waiting for permission. At a nod, he continued. “We’ll shoot a
few of them to make sure we’ve got their attention, and hopefully they’ll all
chase us down the street. You’ll be hiding over on the right there ducking down
behind that little wall,” he pointed to the a retaining wall in the parking lot
of a tiny, but well kept two-pump gas station.

“That is asinine,” Sarah hissed.

“You got a better plan?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean yours
isn’t stupid. They’ll be trying to kill you the whole time, you know?”

“I think they’re going to do that
anyway.”

“And I’ll be here too, right where
you’re leading them.”

“Right. Just be quiet until we pass
and then run down the street behind them.”

“They’ll be going right past me. What
if you make them follow you up this way?” She pointed further up the street
past the gas station.

“You’ll still be up here and
they’ll go right by.”

“No, I’ll be all the way over there
in Davis Park,” she pointed at the park across the street. Sarah loved that
little park and the history behind it. The park was established to honor the Kansas City Missouri mayor who had led the push to build KC International Airport as well as Truman Sports Complex, which housed both Arrowhead and Kauffman stadiums. Most
Kansas Citians had never even heard of the man, but they did enjoy this stretch
of plush green grass running from street to street, small trees lining the
edges and a broad sidewalk perimeter.

“I didn’t know it had a name,” Trip
commented lamely.

“Every park has a name, and a story
behind the name. But that’s not important now. You guys can have them chase you
down the street, just like you said, then leave them here and cross over there
and come back through the park the same way I’m going to. By that time I’ll
hopefully be able to cover you from the terrace above the doors.”

“Told you she was smart,” Trip grinned
fondly and nodded at her.

The doctor’s bushy gray eyebrows
rose in speculation. “That actually sounds like it might work.”

They backtracked to check out the
street to the west on the far side of the park to make sure there were no
surprises approaching from that direction. The trio then rounded the building
and carefully checked the south side to make sure it had remained clear. This
was where they would be leading the dead, so it was important to ensure they
wouldn’t be running into a crossfire, more of a cross-shuffle in this particular
case.

Impatiently waiting for Sarah to
cross the street and give them a signal from safely behind the park bench, both
men snuck forward to where they could see the Infected stumbling around in
front of the target building.

There was a fly-covered mass of
something on the ground that indicated the Zombies had, indeed, chased
something and caught it just in front of the building. Only instead of turning
it into a zombie, they had completely eaten it. Trip wondered what the
parameters for changing or eating were, and why the dead then remained in the
area walking about in circles. Both men filed this information away for future
use. Almost twenty of the Infected meandered aimlessly about and Sarah
indicated with her fingers that there were another twelve further up the street,
out of their line of sight.

“Ready, Doc?”

“Yes, sir. I hope there are no
children. I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“I didn’t see any. That was the
first thing I looked for. I’m not ready for that, either…you know, old man, you
could sit over there in the park with Sarah and cover me while I run around.”

“I’ve seen you run, kid. I think it
would be better if you sat across the street covering me while I do the running.”

“But I can’t really shoot very well
and you’ve had proper training.”

“So I guess we have the best plan
in place already.”

“Ok. On three?” Trip asked.

“No. Let’s just go.”

Dr. MacGreggor stepped out and fired
into the group of zombies. The pair had fired only six shots before all of the
Infected were chasing them.

Chase was perhaps a strong word.
Pursue was closer. Amble was the word Tripper chose to use in his mind. Other
than the very speedy four they shot first, the rest of the dead ambled along
behind at a much slower pace than all earlier Infected had moved. They were
still zombies, however, and you don’t want zombies getting close to you, so the
pair of gunmen made sure to keep a good cushion between themselves and the
slavering, walking corpses. They took out the fastest first so, collectively,
the horde became slower as time went on.

“I think you need to work on your
math skills,” the doctor grumbled. “There are a lot more than twenty. More like
forty.”

“I thought I said a few dozen.
That’s thirty-six, pretty close to forty.”

“Hngh,” the doctor let out a
non-committal grunt.

The pair retreated backwards at a
half-jog, trying to take as many as they could out as they went, but it is very
hard to shoot and hit something when moving. They did have the undivided
attention of what were almost undeniably walking corpses, however, and that was
the plan.

Sarah remained hidden, peeking over
her favorite bench until the last dead guy was fully committed to chasing her
boyfriend. With a glance and a prayer to the sky and a deep breath of flowers
and freshly mown grass, she charged from cover, diagonally and across the
street to her building. As she moved, she followed the two men with her eyes
and realized she couldn’t just stand by and watch. When she reached the corner
of her building, she paused and raised her gun, planning to shoot the remaining
zombies from behind. She had a great angle, but a sound from well up the street
drew her eyes and she checked her fire, instead moving her aim to this new
threat. It was a car, and that meant a live person. Zombies couldn’t drive,
could they? Zombies with Driver’s Licenses was something she did not want to
think about. She couldn’t see much except that the car was moving erratically.

At least there are
some
other people out there,
she thought, relieved.

“There’s a car coming from up the
street!” Sarah screamed to the fleeing men. The fear tightened in her throat,
forcing out the shriek of a Harpy diving on its prey rather than an alert warning
from a concerned girlfriend. Thankfully, none of the Zombies turned at her
shrill cry.
Hmm, maybe they’re not attracted by sound like in the movies,
she
thought optimistically.

Sliding into the side entrance of
her building put her out of sight of the zombies and out of the path of the
approaching vehicle, but still able to view men as they trekked backwards, away
from her along the sidewalk towards the car. The terrace would have given a
great view to either side of the building and of the park across the street,
but she wouldn’t have been able to see up the street where the boys were
running. She waited below in case they needed her.

The pair of men, both carefully
jogging backwards away from the Infected, took a moment to glance back and
observe the approaching vehicle. Still several blocks up the street, the car
appeared to be a classic 70’s Chevelle, rust-red with grey primer marks scattered
about the hood. Trip noticed the classic ‘floating’ over every dip in the road
indicating a dire need of new shocks or springs.

 “Let’s stop here and hold our
ground,” he prodded the older man with an elbow, hoping to get a little help
from the driver. The doctor nodded, stopped and for the first time he set the case
aside, next to the building, though not quite leaning it up against the
concrete. Both men then stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk, taking
careful aim into the crowd of approaching Infected.

“Nice shooting, Doc!” Trip
commended the man, hoping the older man couldn’t hear the revulsion and fear,
or the constant retching he was trying so hard to suppress.

“Yes, I thought I’d be out of
practice,” the doctor agreed. “Try to take more time and hold your breath
before you fire,” he offered.

Trip tried this and scored a tall,
skinny Chiefs fan with one shot, though his eyes teared up as the wasted corpse
sprayed blood over the shuffling gang behind it and then spilled a minor lake
of blackened ichor when the body slumped to the warm pavement. But it stayed
down. And that was something. It was ripping him apart to not only be killing
people, fellow Kansas Citians, but also that they were his fellow fans. These
were people who had cheered his favorite teams on and stood side-by-side
shouting “Home of the
Chiefs
” at the end of the National Anthem. He
had probably stood in line for food or tickets or over bathroom trough next to some
of them.

“They seem to get slower the
further they go,” the doctor mentioned casually as he took aim at his sixth
target.

Looking up the street, Trip noticed
Sarah’s head peaking out of the side entrance.

“Damnit!” he shouted angrily. “Get
inside the building, Babe!” Then he tried to signal the driver of the car to
swerve into the zombies, but paused when he got a closer look. “Uh-oh.”

The driver’s blue-capped head slumped
drunkenly over the wheel and the rumbling car gunned full-throttle towards
them, weaving nearly as badly as Trip had earlier. For just a moment it seemed
as if they were going to be ok as the car veered to the park side of the street.
But just as Trip took the breath he was going to turn into a sigh of relief, it
swerved back and jumped the curb, careening down the sidewalk straight at the pair
of shooters and the shuffling crowd of Zombies.

“Move!” Sarah shouted from her
protective alcove.

“Get inside!” Trip shouted back without
looking as he grabbed the doctor and pulled for his life out of the path of the
out-of-control classic car just as it slammed into the crowd of Zombies,
bowling them down like the rolled ball does its wooden targets.

“The case!” the doctor screamed in
horror, his free hand stretched out in futility as Tripper dragged him in the
opposite direction. The silver case disappeared under the body of the racing
vehicle as it barreled past, and when it had passed, the case was gone. Sparks from
the skidding container sprayed from under the bumper as the car continued past Sarah,
its dual-exhaust thundering down towards the river and over the bridge at the
bottom of the hill.

“Shit!” Trip hissed. “Nothing we
can do now, Doc. We’ll have to wait ‘til the cavalry arrives.”

Their emotions much lower than a
few moments ago, the men dashed across the street and edged north, shooting the
remaining dead as they went.

“This is a fucking Greek Tragedy,”
Trip spat.

“And it is getting worse,” the
doctor pointed down the street where the car had headed. Car and case barreled
across The Heart of America Bridge, bouncing from rail to rail as it crossed,
eventually disappearing from view after it crossed the arch of the bridge and
moved off onto Burlington. Adding to their newfound depression, another group
of dead rounded the corner and began ambling up the street towards them.

“OK! I’m in. I’m on the balcony!”
Sarah called, unable to see them from her position. “If you can break through,
I can cover you!”