Running with the Horde (26 page)

             
“Hooooooly shit!”

             
There was Jacob, laying on the couch, clutching a thick quilt up to his chin with both hands. His wide eyes were locked with mine. I just stayed there on one knee, bent over the coffee table holding the toy in my arms.

             
“Zzzombie Santa?” he asked.

             
All I could do was nod. I felt awkward, I had just turned Jacob’s nightmare into reality. I didn’t know what else to do so I finished the bow and arranged the toy and the batteries neatly on the table while Jacob stared at me.

             
“I don’t have any cookies and milk but I’m sure you’d rather have brains, right?” he whispered in a small, terrified voice.

             
I shook my head slowly causing the wound in my neck to open grotesquely. Jacob made a pained expression and clutched his blanket tighter. I wondered briefly where the fuck Mark was. Jacob must have waited until they were asleep before sneaking downstairs to wait for Santa.

             
I stood carefully to my feet and slung my gym bag over my back causing Jacob to noticeably tense up. I decided to try and make the best of a bad situation with an elaborate bow.  I turned on my heels and scampered out of the room and quietly back through the door. As I left I heard Jacob telling no one in particular that George was never gonna believe this.

             
As I locked the door behind me and hid the keys in the garage I couldn’t help but think I would never see Jacob again. I didn’t think he could be happy in this world as it was but I hoped he lived a long life anyway. I knew he would never forget the night Zombie Santa visited the house on McKinley Street.

             
I ran up the street a ways until I found a house that had been ransacked and went inside. I sat on a wet dilapidated couch for a minute and observed a moment of silence for the body that served me so well for the past few hours.

             
I discovered his name had been Vern with a quick check of his memory. As I was putting Vern to rest for good I thought I saw headlights on the street outside but I wasn’t sure because the next moment I was back in my own head, the boss man grinning wickedly at me from across the seat.

Chapter 33

“Golden Ticket”

             
“Where’d you go just now, honey pie?” he asked, “Who the royal fuck is Vern?”

             
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that so instead I turned my attention to the dark neighborhood we were slowly navigating through. The caravan had made its way back over to Central Avenue so I was basically back where I started.

             
I could jump out and be back at the house on McKinley in a jiffy but I wanted to know where this man planned on taking me before I tried to escape. Another factor for staying was the gun he was pointing at me. I didn’t want to get shot.

             
“Vern was my uncle. He’s dead. I must’ve dozed off. I’m very tired,” I told him.

             
He eyeballed me with that same grin that said he didn’t believe me but didn’t care to pursue the topic.

             
“You got a name or is it just sir?” I slurred through my swollen lips.

             
“Watch yourself, Georgie,” he said as he plucked his cigar nub out of his mouth and spit a gob of brown phlegm at my feet.

             
“You look like you went a round or two with the champ but I’d be glad to give you a few more bruises.”

             
He was silent for a moment as I stared at the disgusting glob of spit on my tennis shoe.

             
“Name is Brady Morgan. I was a captain in what was formerly the Minnesota Air National Guard. Now there’s just a handful of us left. Other than that I’m the captain of a bunch of fuck-up wannabe soldiers that I’ve picked up along the way,” he said bitterly.

             
“So it’s Captain Morgan then?” it hurt to sneer but I managed it anyway.

             
“Georgie,” he said, “I’ll give you that one but it’s a one-time act of mercy because you don’t know better. You ever partner that tone and my name again, I put a bullet in your ass, golden ticket or no. Am I clear?”

             
I nodded. I felt he was very clear.

             
The caravan was approaching the intersection of Broadway and Central Avenue at a crawl. Navigating around clumps of zombies, pushing them aside or running them over as needed. This was the closest I’d been to the city since before the undead appeared on the scene.

             
The lead vehicle came to a stop and the entire caravan followed suit. The area up ahead was clear of traffic but the undead were everywhere. They began to converge on us until I could only see rotting faces in the windows. They pressed in tight slapping the windows and rocking the SUV with the sheer force of their numbers.

             
Captain Morgan didn’t appear the least bit nervous as he put his radio to his mouth and ordered his men to engage something called the sonic barriers. The driver hit a button on a contraption on top of the dashboard.

             
The entire vehicle began to hum a tone so low I could feel it in my chest. I closed my eyes to find myself awash in sickly green light. My head started swimming and my stomach cramped up as I gasped and opened my eyes.

             
“What’s the problem, Georgie?” Morgan was looking at me with an alarmed expression. “You better not sick-up in here, son. I swear I won’t have it. I’ll throw your ass to the dogs out there, you hear me?”

             
I could tell he was nervous about the potential of getting puked on but I was beginning to think he was full of shit. I could strip naked and give him a lap dance and he wouldn’t kick me out of the car.

             
I took a few shallow breaths and wiped cold sweat from my brow. I noticed we were moving forward again at a slow steady clip. I had been too focused on my own reaction to notice but the SUV and the caravan now had a clear five-foot zombie-free zone on all sides.

             
The zombies on the edge of the barrier were like thousands of mimes practicing perfect glass-box routines. My closed eyes revealed the invisible barrier to be the green energy that had made me queasy. It was pushing back an endless sea of icy blue as far as my imagination could see.

             
“Why didn’t you use that barrier thing before, like back at the store?” I asked Morgan.

             
“Everything takes power, Georgie. Even the cool new toys I was given. You get caught in a crowd like this and one of the little sonic machines goes dark…you’re the toast on a shit sandwich before you can say pass me the toilet paper,” he replied.

             
The caravan wound its way down Central Avenue. The road completely free of cars and other obstacles. I was troubled and confused by this, wondering who had managed to keep this area free of traffic in the presence of what had to millions of undead. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Morgan was watching me. As we crested the last hill near University Avenue I knew why.

             
If my face didn’t hurt so badly, I’m sure my jaw would have dropped. The city of Minneapolis was lit up like…well, like normal.

             
My good eye felt moist with tears as I stared in shock, unbelieving and profoundly sad, like it was a trick of the light or a mirage. I now knew the source of the strange glow I’d witnessed on occasion from my house. Astronomers everywhere must have been spinning in their graves every time I had written it off to heavy moonlight.

             
Morgan had been watching for my reaction. Testing to see if I’d been to or from the city since “Z” Day. I must have convinced him this was my first visit downtown in a good long time because when I looked at him his features visibly softened and he slumped in his seat.

             
“It’s real as rain, Georgie. Ain’t it the damnedest thing you ever saw?” he said softly.

             
For once he sounded human.

             
“But how?” I stammered.

             
“The fuck if I know, I haven’t been in the city itself since last May before it all started. I figured maybe I’d get some answers from you but I’m guessing you don’t know shit.”

             
A cold chill swept through my body as I looked at the brightly lit city. The glowing Gold Medal Flour sign seemed to mock me from across the river.

             
“So if you guys aren’t making camp in there, where are you staying?”

             
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said.

             
“Yes I would, that’s why I asked. What’s it going to hurt? You’re turning me over to them anyway. I’m sure they already know where you are.”

             
He grunted and said, “I guess there’s no harm. We’re the fucking army, we’re holed up at the old armory off of County Road I.”

             
“I thought that place was decommissioned years ago?”

             
“It was. It’s a fucking shithole but we make do.”

             
In the distance I could see the entrance to the 3
rd
Avenue Bridge had been completely closed off with giant steel barriers. They were tall as oak trees, thick and impenetrable, spanning the gap starting at the pedestrian walkways on both sides.

             
On top of the barriers were powerful spotlights, a shit-ton of razor wire and platforms wide enough for a multiple people to walk on. Guards could be seen watching the caravan approach.

             
They stood like shadowy specters behind the spotlights. The zombies parted as we drew closer to the brightly lit area in front of the bridge.

             
“Not your people then?” I asked.

             
“Ugh. Fuck no,” he mumbled dismissively.

             
Morgan flipped through several static-filled channels on his radio until he found the one he wanted. People were chattering back and forth regarding some type of perimeter check protocol. He cut in over their transmission.

             
“Bridge Tower 1, this is Captain Brady Morgan of the U.S. Army do you copy?”

             
“Go ahead, Captain,” came the tinny reply.

             
“Please inform whoever is in charge that I’ve acquired the package.”

             
“Are you certain you have the right person? If I alert Command to this and you’ve got the wrong man, there’ll be hell to pay.”

             
“I’d bet my life on it Bridge Tower.”

             
“Be certain you just did, Captain. Pull it up and round it off, I’ll radio it in. Best keep those barriers on, she’s a hungry group tonight,” the man chuckled into the radio causing Morgan’s lips to turn up in distaste.

             
“Fucking traitors,” he muttered under his breath.

             
We came to a small intersection in front of the bridge. The lead vehicle did a U turn and the entire caravan followed the leader until we’d formed a large circle, the sonic barriers keeping the wide center free of zombies.

             
“Get out, George,” Morgan said as he opened the door and let in the cold night air.

             
I pulled on my door handle and stepped into December’s finest, my breath coming out in great puffs of steam. As much as I enjoyed the fetid scent of the millions of undead surrounding us, my weary body was already missing the heated comfort of the SUV. I stood next to Captain Morgan in the center of the circle as his men fanned out and formed a loose perimeter around us.

             
I was keeping a close eye on the men walking the platforms while I shuffled from foot to foot trying to stay warm. Morgan blew hot breath into his cupped hands. The platform guards hadn’t changed their activities since we arrived. It was as if we weren’t there.

             
“What now?” I asked him.

             
“Now we wait,” he replied impatiently, “By the way if you run I will shoot you.”

             
I assumed this would actually not be the outcome if I ran but I considered his warning highly superfluous anyway. I had no intention of running, I was far too cold and sore and more than a little tired.

             
He chuckled to himself and gestured to the zombies waiting outside the circle of vehicles.

             
“Where you gonna go,” he said, “Fuck it! Run if you dare, Georgie!”

             
I thought I understood him then. He was a bully, plain and simple. He was pissed by the snarky attitude of the man on the radio teasing him from safety up on the bridge and now Captain Morgan had to lash out at someone. Obviously that person was going to be me.

             
I didn’t give a shit about him, I had eyes only for the city, lit up like a lighthouse on top of Hope Hill. How did it happen? My sense of foreboding about what lay inside the city and was now coming for me was so strong I could almost taste it.

             
“Who are we waiting for?” I demanded.

             
“You’ll see.”

             
Time ticked away, my blood slowly congealed from the cold. I hated waiting. Abhorred it actually, waiting was an exasperating form of torture for me. By my estimation I made it three whole minutes. I let out a deep sigh.

             
“How long do we have to wait?”

             
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

             
“Are you always such a bitchy asshole?” he grumbled.

              I was processing several possible responses and coming up blank. My retort bank was empty but then I was tired and crabby so it made sense. It didn’t matter anyway as the sound of a helicopter could be heard approaching from somewhere within the city. The men on top of the barricade finally stopped their endless patrolling and stood at attention waiting for the approaching chopper.

             
It flew in low over the bridge coming straight out of the city. Morgan’s men spread out further to make room for it to land in the center of the circle. It hovered over us for almost a minute blowing a small tornado into our faces. Blinding light from one of its searchlights spotlighted me as it began to lower to the ground.

             
My heart was pounding madly away inside my chest and I was no longer cold as adrenaline pumped through my body. I suddenly didn’t want to meet the people in the helicopter. I didn’t want to know why electricity burned in the city while the rest of the world was dark and dead. Suddenly all I wanted was to be anyplace but in the center of that circle.

             
The dull roar of the massive horde and the chopper nearing the ground was making it difficult to hear or talk but I leaned over and shouted into Captain Morgan’s ear.