EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Gumbowsky slowly closed the service hatch door. He stood and looked around at everyone. The five people huddled around the bench were starting to part a little and the three men by the subway tunnel had loosened their grips on each other. He came and joined the male trio, looking down at the girl on the tracks. Mike turned and said, “Well, we need to get her out of there.” Gumbowsky nodded. They had a plastic tarp in the car that’d probably work for wrapping her up. He wasn’t sure if they’d be able to get her off the tracks, though. Electricity burned fat and fat stuck.

Billy and the punk kid were just sitting on the ground, their feet hanging over the edge. The punk kid was crying quietly and Billy had put an arm around his shoulder. Gumbowsky wondered if the two had any sort of ties to each other, but guessed not. Billy hadn’t mentioned anything like this in his story about the library. He turned around and started toward the stairs.

“Wha — what happened?” The man in the business suit. Gumbowsky looked over at him and shook head head.

“Just stay where you are. You don’t want to see.” He took the stairs two at a time. A quick jog to the back of the car fetched him the bright blue plastic tarp and a shovel. The shovel was metal but the track was turned off right now so it should be OK. He sighed and hefted the spade over his shoulder, tucked the tarp under his arm. He took the steps two at a time going down, too. He could see that the bench group knew what had happened when they saw his tools. They would have found out soon enough anyway, he guessed. Especially when they saw the two cops carrying her out of here.

Mike was getting ready to get down on to the floor of the platform. He had rolled up the sleeves of his uniform. Bill and the punk kid had moved closer to the bench group but were still very seperate from them. It was the knowing. That was what kept them apart from the rest. Gumbowsky had seen it happen a dozen times or more. The knowing made you different, put you apart from the group. The knowing and the unknowing seemed to have a hard time coming back together. He sat the tarp and shovel down near Mike and sat down on the end of platform himself. He unzipped the light wind breaker he had been wearing and sat it on the floor behind him. A quick roll of the sleeves and he was as ready as his partner. They dropped to the bottom of the tube together and turned to fetch their implements.

A sucking, popping sound came from behind them. A boot from wet mud or…. No, that was the best way to explain it. But it had a ripping edge to it, too. Gumbowsky was trying to place it the whole time he was turning around. Finally it hit him. Peeling burnt bacon off of a pan.

Sarah was picking herself up off the recently-electrified rails of the subway. Chunks of flesh and hair were sticking to the metal rails, some clothing going with them. A long strip of her t-shirt was ripped off, showing her bra and chest. Two patches were torn out of her pants legs where it had laid across the bars. He noticed, almost humorously, that she had lost a shoe. It laid, untied, a foot or two away. She ripped and pushed and popped her way to her feet and turned to look at the two officers.

Gumbowsky had turned around first, Mike followed a second later. They both took a step or two back, the shock and revulsion moving them more than fear. The girl shambled a few steps, her legs not working well now that parts of kneecaps were missing. She kept her balance well, though, shambling a few more steps. The cops both stepped back again, Gumbowsky tried to move closer to the wall. Mike pulled his gun out and pointed it at the girl. “Stop, right there!”

She didn’t listen. Gumbowsky wasn’t even sure she COULD listen. He had decided he didn’t care. He just wanted to get up and out of this pit and deal with it when he wasn’t within arm’s reach of a walking dead girl. “Stop!” Mike yelled again, the gun trembling slightly in his hand. She shuffled closer in defiance. She was close enough for them both to see her face in the dim light. One eye was rolled back in its socket, the other staring off to the left. A large round piece was missing from her bottom lip, obviously bitten off. Gumbowsky shivered unconciously and grabbed the top of the wall.

“Come on, Mike. Let’s get out of here.” He pulled himself up slowly, thinking of all the times he’d skipped going to gym. That changed right now. No more cheeseburgers and fries and milkshakes and late night pizza and donuts. God help him, no more. He rolled onto the platform and turned to help Mike.

The girl had reached him. Or nearly so. She was a few inches away from the end of his gun. He opened his mouth to yell at her again but she grabbed his hands. A shot fired and the bullet ricocheted down into the subway tunnel, pinging off of metal and tile and concrete until it was lost in darkness and silence. Mike grunted and pulled his hands away, falling backward but catching his balance before he lost his feet. He aimed a shot dead center in her chest and fired, the bullet punching through already-missing flesh and cloth. She stumbled backward.

Mike fired again, catching her in the stomach. At this close of range, the bullet punched a large hole through her abdomen. A fat length of intestine slid out both sides of her. She took a step toward the cop. Mike screamed a wordless yell as she fell open-mouthed onto him. A second scream followed a few moments later as she brought her teeth together into his neck. Gumbowsky couldn’t bring any words to his tongue as he watched his partner being eaten by a re-animated punk girl.

Mike still had control of himself, though. Gumbowsky watched him bring the gun up and set it on the side of her head. He pulled the trigger in the space between bites and she dropped off of him like a swatted fly. “Fuck!” he yelled, stretching the word out for a few seconds. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He had dropped his gun and had his hand clamped over the wound in his neck. Gumbowsky dropped back down into the pit.