Running with the Horde (25 page)

             
I was startled to see him there right in front of me with Lanskey. Time seemed to slow down, Wilson’s scream sounding low and guttural like it was in slow motion. He had dragged Lanskey back to a corner between the last two aisles of goods.

             
He had both arms around Lanskey’s chest. His feet were churning as if he was trying to drive them both back through the wall. I held Lanskey’s left leg with two withered hands bringing it in toward my mouth.

             
I could just feel the beginning of the crowd surging, pushing me inexorably forward in the tight space. I was wearing a rancid smelling velour jumpsuit. I used to be a little old lady. I screamed a silent command in my mind…
STOP!

             
Every zombie complied. The pushing force behind me ended abruptly as I dropped Lanskey’s leg but momentum carried me forward and I landed on top of both of them.

             
My arms, naturally reaching out to stop myself from falling, wound up around Wilson’s neck. For just the briefest of moments our lips touched in a tender kiss as a silent and petrified Wilson stared wild eyed into a terrifying mask of old, cold, undead flesh.

             
The next moment he was a wriggling, screaming and spitting mess as I tried to untangle myself from him and stand up.

             
In a voice that came straight from a horror movie I told him to calm down and shut up. He did both but continued holding the unconscious form of Lanskey like he was a teddy bear. Wilson was whimpering and had pissed himself.

             
I worried for a moment that I broke his mind by talking to him but I had saved his life for the moment, I took some solace from that as I began herding the zombies back through the store to retake their places standing guard around its perimeter.

             
Quite rudely I was popped back into my own body by the barrel of a gun prodding me in the chest. I opened my eyes to see my tiny alcove was awash in light surrounded by angry strangers in military fatigues.

             
I squinted into the glare and pretended I was groggy, like I had just woken up. I shielded my eyes with my hand.

             
“Would you mind taking the light out of my eyes?” I asked.

             
There was no response from my new friends but I heard footsteps approaching. I could only see them clearly from the knees down. A pair of gleaming combat boots parted the group in the center and stopped in front of me.

             
“Get him up,” a gruff voice barked.

             
I recognized his voice from the radio, this was the man in charge. I was pulled roughly to my feet by the collar of my parka. I was held in place and patted down, my weapons removed. Another soldier rooted through my backpack he had pulled from the alcove.

             
The flashlights were moved away my eyes. I blinked rapidly in the sudden darkness as I tried to take in my surroundings. Aside from the guy looting my pack, the three injured men were huddled together by the edge of the roof. Two men were holding me in place by both arms, everyone else was fanned out in a semicircle around the stairwell door preparing to hold off the zombies with their guns when they made it through the door. I could tell they were all very anxious as the man approached me.

             
We stood in silence for a minute as we sized each other up. He was a short, squat man built like a bulldog. His gleaming, clean-shaven face was unsmiling as he chewed on the nub of an unlit cigar. He was surprisingly hatless in the cold with a military hair cut edging toward being too long. He looked pissed with dark shadows hiding his deeply inset eyes.

             
I didn’t like him when I knew him only by the sound of his voice. Meeting him in person did not improve my feelings for him. I was about to try and move this along with an ice breaker when he suddenly hit me in the gut so hard it raised me up off of my feet.

             
My captors, also surprised by the attack, let go of my arms and I dropped to my knees dry heaving with tears coming out of my eyes. I felt a surge of energy pulse through me from the crowd below but I quickly quashed it. I heard one of the injured men trying to explain in a hushed shout that the zombies below were acting really strange but he was ignored.

             
“Get him back up,” he said in a calm gravelly voice.

             
His men obeyed immediately but I wasn’t ready to stand and continued hacking. The man gave me a moment for my coughing fit to pass before speaking again.

             
“That was just a taste, hoss, the next one won’t be so gentle. I’m gonna ask you a few questions. You lie to me, you get worse, understand?”

             
I nodded, the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, I must have bitten my tongue when the asshole hit me. The ache in my belly was finally subsiding but my head was pounding.

             
My body felt like a punching bag I had taken so many beatings the last few days. I was beginning to have a profound hatred for most other people.

             
“Okay, good enough, hoss. Who are you and what are you doing up here?” he asked cheerfully.

             
“My name is Mark Nestler,” I started in a quaky voice, “I am holed up with my wife and two little boys a few miles north of here. My son is sick and we need food,” I pleaded. “I was scrounging for food in houses when the zombies spotted me. I was on the run when I saw this place. I thought I could get some things before they caught up but I couldn’t get in so I climbed up here to hide.”

             
I was talking a mile a minute with tears in my eyes trying to sell it.

             
“I must have fallen asleep. I’ve been so tired…then your men woke me up. I’m so relieved to see you guys,” I smiled weakly through my pain. “Does this mean there’s still someone in charge? Can we go with you?” I begged.

             
All the while he just stood there looking at me like I was a piece of dog shit he’d just scraped from his shoe. I didn’t think he bought my story.

             
“I’m in charge, fucking numb nuts,” he growled and then hit me again.

             
Dark spots from the pain clouded my vision as another energy surge plowed through my mind. This time I almost had the zombies storm the building just so they could kill this bastard but I figured he would have me shot before they could get up here so I held off.

             
“Get him up!” he barked.

             
Once again I was yanked into an upright position. The angry little man got real close to me. I could smell his stale, rancid breath as he rained flecks of spittle into my face while he spoke. He began looking at me funny as sudden recognition flowed into his eyes.

             
“I told you what would happen to you if you lied to me, didn’t I, George?”

             
I reacted to my real name before I could stop myself. It was only a flash of my eyes but it was enough, the man saw it and smiled a shark’s toothy grin.

             
“It is George isn’t it, hoss? Ha! I figured you could be the guy,” he pulled a folded a piece of paper out of his pocket and waived it in my face like I would know what it was.

             
“You got some important people looking for you, Georgie boy!” I started thrashing in the grip of my two captors. The man gently patted my cheek.

             
“Now-now, Georgie, let’s just keep calm. You be a good boy and do what I say and I won’t hit you again or worse,” his menacing tone convinced me to still myself.

             
One of the soldiers raced over to the side of the roof toward the back lot where my bike was hidden. I heard his radio belch sound and could hear the sound of engines heading this direction.

             
The boss told his guys to hold me steady and gave me a wink as he trotted over to the side of the roof. I closed my eyes and jumped to the zombie behind the dumpster, I was relieved he was still waiting there, standing like a creepy troll guarding the dumpster. I eyeballed the motorcycle and debated having the zombie try and drive it back to the house Mark was hiding in. I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know if I could drive it through him and maintain awareness on the rooftop. He would have to go on foot.

             
So I sent him off through the back parking lot as fast as he could run, only the burden of the toys and his own girth holding him back. I suppose the fact that he was dead also made him slower if I’m being fair.

             
Back on the rooftop it was clear that reinforcements had arrived. The men were scrambling for an evacuation off the roof as their comrades on the ground set up to distract and engage the zombies below. I wasn’t sure what options I had at this point. I didn’t know how much if anything they knew about my abilities and I didn’t want to tip my hand.

             
Truthfully, I was ridiculously concerned about getting Jacob his stupid toy. I didn’t know why it was so important to me but it had become my obsession.

             
I decided to let things just play out on their own for a while. The man in charge jogged over to me.

             
“Georgie, let me explain what’s going on. I got men out there now, so you’ll be happy to know were getting off this roof just as soon as they make some room down there. A piece of good news for you, be good and cooperate and I won’t have to hit you again. I don’t know who you are or what you did but fuck, son, you’re real important to someone.”

             
He actually giggled and ruffled my hair, “you’re gonna be our ticket inside!” he hustled back to the rooftop barking orders into his radio.

             
I was standing confused between my two guards. I thought of Rosie and her magical city. Could this be the same thing? I was their ticket, he had said, but into what? As scared as I was, my curiosity was peaked.

             
Loud techno music began thumping in front of the store. I jumped down for a front row view. My zombies were all facing the store standing in silence while a small company of very confused men were approaching in vehicles and on foot in the front of store, clearly trying to get the zombies to chase them.

             
I waited until they were a mere twenty feet away before I released the small horde. The zombies went immediately from docile and silent to their default mode of rage-filled, man-eating monsters. Based on the reaction of the soldiers hastening to retreat, it was safe to assume laundry duty at their camp would be an extremely unpleasant chore on this particular evening.

             
My zombie had made it safely to Stinson Boulevard and was chugging due south still about two miles short of the house. I had him change direction to the correct side street figuring he was less likely to encounter any humans that way.

             
The men on the ground overcame their temporary confusion and were laying waste to the zombies charging toward them through the parking lot. Tracer rounds lighting up the dark parking lot like a laser light show. Blood, limbs and other bits of human gore were making a sloppy mess of the pavement while the men played run and gun in two large Humvees.

             
Back on the rooftop we had started making our exit. Everyone was in a hurry, knowing all this commotion would attract every zombie for miles. I was being herded toward the ladder. It seemed like a year ago I had scaled it in search of a way into the store.

             
I was rushed down and almost fell twice before I dropped to the dumpster and was taken to a waiting SUV and seated in the back seat next to Captain Douche Bag. His radio was screaming that everyone was clear and we sped out of the parking lot heading toward downtown Minneapolis.

             
The rest of caravan met up with us a half mile down the road. I checked in back at the store to find only a handful of badly wounded zombies still moving around. A quick scan of the area told me there were many more in route, drawn to the noise of the brief battle.

             
Redirecting all of them to pursue me, I jumped over to find my zombie crunching up the dead leaves in the front yard of the house where Mark and the boys were fast asleep.

             
I went as quietly as I could into the garage and retrieved the keys to the side door I hid there earlier. I fumbled with stiff fingers until I managed to get the correct key into the lock and open the door. It made a terrible creaking noise and I would have cursed aloud if I had vocal cords.

             
I tiptoed silently into the living room and removed my gym bag. I cleared the coffee table of its decorative centerpiece and carefully arranged the Daisy Air Rifle and the few boxes of pellets, trying to make them look as festive as possible with the red ribbon. I was just wrapping some of the ribbon around the Sparky Speaks box when a tiny voice froze me in the middle of tying a large awkward bow.