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Thirty part two
November 29
Jones was pushing the ambulance along at fifty miles an hour through the empty streets. The rain had slicked the roads a bit, so he kept the wheel as straight as the road would allow, not wanting the somewhat top heavy ambulance to flip over if he could help it. Mary usually drove the wagon, so he was a little nervous about it. He still couldn’t believe she was dead. Especially not in the way it had happened. He… he wouldn’t think of it. It was pointless to spend time worrying over the past.
The mist falling from the sky reduced visibility to a block at the most. He was leaned forward and squinting through the grime when he saw a moss colored shape start to form in the distance. Flashing lights made bright circles in the air and he let his foot up from the gas. The truck started slowing immediately and he barely put his foot down on the brake. Once he realized it actually WAS a roadblock, he pressed down harder and brought the truck to a stop a few yards away from the wooden blockade. Two men in olive drab uniforms were standing in his lane, their hands extended in the universal symbol for “stop.” He had already done that, but he figured they were just making sure.
When he hadn’t moved in a half minute or so, the one in back lowered his arm to cradle the butt of the rifle in his hand. The one in front waved for him to exit the vehicle and come over to where they were waiting. He tapped on the glass to tell Elijah. When he turned, the cabbie’s face filled the glass. He pointed at the soldiers then at his door. The man seemed to understand, so Jones nodded and exited the ambulance. He left it running, figuring this wouldn’t take too long.
The mist hit his skin as soon as he was out of the truck and he shivered. The two Army men were both wearing rain jackets the same green color as the rest of their uniform. They also had helmets on their heads, upturned bowls of green painted with up-pointing arrows. Jones supposed those showed rank, but he didn’t have any clue what one sign meant over another. He’d never cared for the military. He’d rather save lives than take them, or further the war machine by repairing those it chewed up and spat back out. Still, he couldn’t make it down the street without dealing with this particular group of Army men. He sighed and walked over to the closest soldier.
“Hello, sir,” the soldier said, his face impassive.
“Hey,” Jones answered. Neither man offered or expected a hand. “I’ve got a patient in the ambulance. I need to get through as quick as possible.” The soldier’s eyes perked up at the mention of a patient.
“An injury, then?” Jones nodded and the man continued. “What kind of injury? What caused it?” His eyes were still shining and Jones noticed that his partner had come closer at the mention of an injury.
“Yeah, obviously injured,” Jones answered. He didn’t trust this. Something seemed fishy. “I mean, why would I have someone in the back of the truck without them being injured? I don’t transport healthy people, you know.” He made it a point to avoid telling them more than he absolutely had to.
“We understand what your job is, sir. Can you answer the questions, though? What kind of injury?” The soldier’s face had gotten harder, not liking the obvious lack of information. His eyes still glowed with…. What? Anticipation? Anxiety? Excitment? Jones wasn’t sure, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“A leg injury. A… cut… in the calf. Nothing serious, but needing more attention than I can give it.” He answered slowly, carefully checking his words before saying them. He suddenly had a feeling that they were more interested in Elijah than they should be, even if they had known about the accident. He had a worse feeling that it was the INJURY they cared the most about. Why would soldiers be so… fascinated… with a simple injury.
The second soldier spoke up now. Jones noticed that neither of them were wearing nametags. He thought all army uniforms had those badges sewn on them above the pocket. This was even more confusing and suspicious. “We’ll need to see the vict — patient before you can pass through.” He started moving around the first soldier toward the truck. Jones moved over to block his way.
“Why? I mean, why do you need to see him? No, before that, why is there a roadblock here? I mean, this is America, you can’t just stop people in the middle of the road. You can’t just search the ambulance, either. It’s the property of Eden Medical Center, a privately-owned hospital.” He was starting to get angry and he knew that was a bad idea when the military were involved. He couldn’t help himself right now, though. This invasion of his life was just too far beyond his tolerance level.
“Sir, just cooperate and everything will go much smoother. We just need to check on your patient and make sure he’s safe to allow to travel. As soon as we do that, you can be on you way.” The first soldier answered him this time. He had been about to put a hand on Jones’ chest but seemed to have decided against it halfway through the motion. He tried to make it look like he was just gesturing, but Jones knew better. This was moments away from getting violent, he feared.
Jones stepped back a step to look at the soldiers again in a fuller picture. Such boring, non-marked uniforms almost made him feel they weren’t really military. Maybe some local militia or something. He didn’t want to take the chance, though. The government had been giving more and more civil power to the military in the last few years. Jones had been a bone-level Democrat for as long as he could remember and the idea of trained-to-kill military police roaming the streets gave him the heebie-jeebies.
He looked around quickly. Orange-striped wooden horse blockades with “US” stamped on them in large stensil letters. Two Jeeps sat on each sidewalk, one green and one tan. A large black tent was set up on the other side of the street, too, and people were milling around it and a freestanding antennae just outside of it. Jones guessed there were computers and radio equipment in the tent. If it was a fake, it was a damn good one.
“Sir? Is there going to be a problem?” Both soldiers were standing in front of him, presenting themselves as a solid wall of military strength. He knew he wouldn’t be able to jump in the ambulance and get away. It wasn’t made for going fast or breaking through anything resembling a blockade. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t just stand by while he drove through their camp, either.
“No, no problem. Just thinking. By the way, what should I call you?” He looked at the soldiers square in the face, trying to look friendly. It didn’t seem to work. Both soldiers’ faces stayed slack and uninterested in him, but coldly set on seeing what they wanted in the back of his truck.
“You can call us ‘Sir,’ of course. If you need names, I’m sorry but that will have to wait for another time. This operation is here for the safety of the city and the guidelines for it don’t allow us to discuss personal matters.” The soldier on the left, the first one he had talked to, answered him quietly and quickly. He then put a hand on Jones’ shoulder and pushed him gently to the side. The other soldier nodded curtly and followed his fellow soldier. They walked alongside the ambulance and came quickly to the back doors. Jones followed behind them, feeling a little like a chastised puppy.
“Is this locked?” the first soldier asked. He had one hand on the handles of the back doors and didn’t look over at Jones, expecting obedience.
Jones paused, not wanting to comply with such blatant disregard for his rights and the rights of his employer, then gave in, realizing his disobedience wouldn’t prevent anything. In a few more seconds they’d simply try the door themselves and probably take the keys from him if they found it locked. Forcibly, he was certain. “No, it shouldn’t be,” he said quietly.
The officer nodded and twisted both handles away from each other. They turned easily and he pulled the doors toward him. Light from the overhead lamps in the back of the ambulance spilled out and illuminated the faces of the two soldiers. The day was still dreary, but the wind and rain were both calming down. It was dark out here in the street, though, and Jones figured it wouldn’t brighten up at all before night fell. Elijah was sitting at the far end. The soldiers looked at him for a few moments.
“Sir?” the first one called. “Sir, can you come out of the ambulance?” Elijah’s face looked worried, but he started to slide around the benches toward the door. Jones didn’t trust this, but he didn’t have any reason he could explain, or any way to get them out of it, so he had to just let it play out. Elijah had reached the door and the soldiers had stopped him there.
“Sir, just stay in the ambulance. There’s no reason for you to go to such trouble, especially when you’ve been hurt. Can you tell us about the wound?” The second soldier climbed up into the other side of the ambulance and sat across from Elijah. Elijah swallowed and nodded.
“Well, officer, I — ” The first soldier cut him off.
“No need to address me as officer. ‘Sir’ will do fine.”
“Oh, OK. Sir, I was driving my cab earlier and, because of the rain, couldn’t see very well.” He still seemed very nervous and Jones was afraid his anxiety would put the soldiers even further on edge. If they were on edge, that was. He still couldn’t tell exactly what was going on.
“You’re cab driver, then?”
“Yeah, yeah. I was driving and I couldn’t see very well. A girl, some little girl, stepped out in front of my cab and I couldn’t see so I hit her.” Elijah swallowed again, the gulp loud enough for Jones to hear standing behind the soldier that was still on the ground. He smiled a nervous smile and nodded again, a nervous habit apparently. “And then I carried her into the library. I probably shouldn’t have, but you can’t rewrite the past, huh?” He smiled at the soldiers each in turn. They didn’t smile back as far as Jones could see.
The soldier in the ambulance waved his hand impatiently. “Go on. We don’t care if you should have moved her or not. What happened next?” Elijah nodded again and continued his story, telling how the power had went out and the ambulance had come with the two paramedics. The soldiers turned and looked at Jones at that point.
“Two paramedics, sir?” the one on the ground asked. “What happened to the other?” His arms were crossed on his chest but Jones felt that he wanted to rest a hand on the pistol at his hip. Seeing the gun made him think of the other soldier’s rifle. He didn’t see it now, but he didn’t remember him setting it down. Maybe it was in the ambulance were he couldn’t see.
Jones shrugged and gestured to Elijah in the cab. “The girl he brought in died. She…,” he trailed off, not sure whether he should tell them about the girl coming back to murderous life. The girl and Mary, that is.
“Continue your story, sir,” the standing soldier said, now resting one hand on his pistol’s holster. “What did she do? She was dead, wasn’t she? How could she DO anything after she was dead?” His face was colder than Jones had seen it so far, and he had been sure the soldier was carved from marble earlier. Jones’ eyes flickered around and he saw that the soldier in the van had indeed had the rifle in there with him. It was now sitting on his lap and he was staring at Jones as hard as his partner was.
The ambulance rolled along at a pretty good pace. Elijah was sitting in the back so he wasn’t sure how fast Jones was pushing the bone buggy along, but what outside he could see through the rounded rectangular windows in the rear door seemed to sliding away at a good clip. His leg was throbbing where the little bitch had bitten him, but he was confident that something could be done at the hospital. Just had to get there.
He scooted over on the two-man bench and tapped on the window into the front cab. He saw Jones’ eyes raise to the rearview mirror and Elijah tapped his wrist. How long? Jones shrugged, then held up five fingers. Five more minutes. He could handle that. They must be moving well faster than the speed limit, then, since it took more than the ten minutes they’d been travelling plus five more to reach the hospital from the library going the city-mandated twenty miles per hour. He sat back again, adjusting his leg on the stretcher affixed to the middle of the ambulance’s boxy backend. The wound was throbbing and seemed to be dripping a bit of yellow pus, even through the bandages that Jones had wrapped tightly around it. He wasn’t sure, but he thought his foot was turning black. He had taken off his shoes and socks after he had gotten into the ambulance when it had started itching like mad. It definitely looked more purple. Maybe it was just blood deprived or something.
He sat back and closed his eyes, but immediately was met with the eyes of the dead girl, wallowing in ecstacy at the taste of his blood and flesh. His eye lids flew open and he stared at the slowly swaying medical equipment hanging from the ceiling rack. He felt those eyes would stay with him for a long, long time. He tried to push any thoughts and memories from his mind but was interrupted by the ambulance quickly slowing down and stopping.
He leaned forward and looked out the back windows, half expecting to see the flashing blue and white lights of a police cruiser pulling them over. Wouldn’t that be ironic? They had survived an attack by a dead girl — two attacks! — just to get pulled over for speeding to a hospital. Well, once they saw his bite and Jones explained the situation, they’d be on their away again. There weren’t any lights, though, flashing or otherwise. Whatever they had slowed for was in front of the vehicle.
He slid back toward the cab and leaned forward to look through the window again. He saw flashing lights and a barricade in front of the truck. It was stil raining a bit, more mist than rain at this point, so he couldn’t see too much of what was in front of them. He thought he saw some green Jeeps over to the side, though. What would the military be doing here?
Jones reached up a hand and knocked on the window once the car was stopped. Elijah was still looking out, but Jones hadn’t known that. He turned around and saw Elijah’s face. He pointed out the window and nodded. Elijah nodded back and shrugged his shoulders. If this had been a newer ambulance there’d probably be a better way to talk to each other, but it was an older model and they had to get by with knocks and body gestures. It had worked pretty well so far. Jones pointed over his shoulder at the door then turned and exited the ambulance. Elijah sat back down to wait for someone to open the door. Which he was sure they’d do if they needed him.
Gumbowsky’s head came over the top of the staircase just when Jamison started the cruiser. The engine roared to life and the lights started flashing again. Mike stomped on the accelerator and the car shot toward Gumbowsky, sliding to a stop in front of him. He popped open the side door and climbed into the passenger seat. “You sure you can drive, man?” Mike didn’t look so good, but he nodded vigorously, his eyes not moving from in front of him. He kicking in the gas again and they sped down the street, away from the subway station.
The closest hospital, Eden Medical, was behind them about fifteen miles. Gumbowsky wasn’t sure where Mike was heading. “Hey, man, the hospital’s behind us. Shouldn’t you turn around?” Mike growled something indistinct and whipped down a side street to the right. He sped forward a block or two and hauled a tire-skidding right again. At least he was pointed in the right direction now.
The streets were deserted in the less-than-pleasant early afternoon hours. A few cars sat on the sides of the road, but no one was walking around. Even on the nastiest days of winter or the hottest days of summer, SOMEONE was always on the streets. A kid truant from school, a mom going grocery shopping, someone. It was truly scary to see the streets so empty of life.
Gumbowsky pulled his eyes away from the deserted pathways of the city and looked over at his partner. They’d been assigned to each other for a couple of years now, but Mike had never been really friendly. Still, they had Christmas dinner with each other’s families and had saved each other from injury or maybe even death a few times. That one drugged out kid last summer, for example.
Mike had had the kid cornered after he had tried to rip off a convenience store. The kid hadn’t grabbed more than a hundred dollars — the store didn’t keep more than that at any given time usually — but he had risked his life, and threatened the life of the clerk, for it. He had a knife in his hand, but he kept reaching behind his back and fiddling with something. Gumbowsky had been in the car calling for backup when Mike radioed in that he needed help now. When he got to the scene, Gumbowsky saw the kid and Mike in a standoff, both of them with pistols drawn.
The kid had been completely tripped out on bathroom-brewed crack, nervous twitches made him slow-witted. He didn’t notice the new cop slipping into the alleyway behind and beside the one he was concentrating on. Gumbowsky had pulled his gun out, but kept it held down to his side. Mike saw him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t do anything to give it away, just a quick flick of the eyes. Gumbowsky slid further into the alley, getting as close to the crackhead as he could. When he was only a few feet away, he raised his gun and yelled “Freeze” at the kid. It had felt so crazily cliche, but it was all that came to mind.
It had worked, apparently. The kid’s drug-addled brain hadn’t been able to deal with two targets and he had dropped his gun. The knife was already on the ground, dropped when he had decided to pull out the gun. Mike moved forward, gun still trained on the kid, and Gumbowsky moved closer, too. Mike cuffed the kid and searched him for more weapons while Gumbowsky read him his rights. Rights. These damn kids shouldn’t have any rights when they’re out of their minds on shit they made in a bathtub. You were lucky if the tub was clean, even. That night had gone well, though.
Now, though, Mike didn’t look like himself. His eyes were jumping around more than the crackhead kid’s had. His lips were both trembling and his throat was still bleeding, although it was now just a trickle. He had one hand clamped on the wound, which probably explained a large part of why he was driving so eradically. While Gumbowsky was looking at him, he suddenly whipped the around around another corner to the right and raced up another side street. Two blocks and he pulled another right, still not at the hospital. Suddenly he slammed on the brakes and jumped onto the passenger-side sidewalk. When the car was stopped, he twisted off the ignition, lept out of the car keyless and ran up the alley they had stopped at.
Gumbowsky didn’t know what to do. His partner seemed delirious. He sat where he was in shock for a few seconds, a half of a minute, then slowly got out of the car. It wasn’t raining, but it felt like it should be. An unnatural chill seemed caught inside of Gumbowsky’s clothes and skin, making his bones want to shake. He looked around to see if he knew where he was.
It was the street they had been on to begin with. Down a ways was the library, beyond it, the subway station where the… dead girl had been. Where she had bitten Mike and turned the whole day inside out. There was no one on the streets here either. Gumbowsky wasn’t anxious to go down the alley but he couldn’t let his partner, his friend, wander off like that. He needed medical attention and he needed it fast.
He picked up the microphone for the radio and pressed the “press to talk” button. A crackle of static preceded his message. “This is Officer Gumbowsky. I’m on Grand Avenue, a few blocks to the west of the City Library. My partner, Office Jamison, has been injured and needs medical attention. Please send an ambulance as soon as possible. Over.” He didn’t know if anyone was listening, especially considering the news that Billy had relayed to them. Still, he had to try. He sighed, hung up the transmitter, and climbed out of the car.
The alley was narrow, but not claustrophobic. Or it wouldn’t have been without the trash, at least. The piles of rubbish cramped the passageway to an uncomfortable width at several places, not to mention how they slicked the floor. Mike had already disappeared into the shadows somewhere further along so Gumbowsky had no choice but to hurry along the dirty corridor blindly. He saw the corner when he was three-quarters or so down the alley. Mike had to have already turned it, which was why he hadn’t seen or heard him. Gumbowsky turned the corner and walked into Mike’s back.
He bounced off of his partner’s back with an “oof”, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, Mike, don’t just stand there in the dark. What’s the mat — ” His words were cut off when Mike turned around.
His face was blotchy and etched with black lines. His nose had turned a horribly dark purple knob on the front of his face, and his lips were pulled back in a snarl. The wound at his neck from the girl’s bite seemed to pulse with his breathing, the edges already turning black and yellow. Pus and blood still oozed slowly out. Mike’s eyes were bloodshot and his pupils wide, almost eliminating the irises. His purple nose flared with each breath out and his mouth was open, breathing in deeply. Gumbowsky nearly screamed.
“Mi — Mike! Come on, buddy, we gotta — ” He stopped talking and turned to run, realizing his partner, his friend, was already too far gone. In the middle of the turn, he felt his legs fall out from beneath him. He managed to pull his arms up to block his face, but the air was knocked out of his lungs. After a couple of burning gasps of air, he scrambled to pull himself forward on elbows and knees, feeling both elbows scrape skin away on the trash-covered ground. He tried to pull his knees up to stand, but felt teeth sink into his calf. He screamed and kicked with the other leg.
Mike let go of him after a couple of solid kicks to the top of his head, but not without ripping a chunk out of his leg and growling at him, a feral growl that caused the hair on Gumbowsky’s arms to stand on end. “Jesus, help me,” he prayed, finally gaining his feet. But everything was turned around now. Mike was moving incredibly fast and had gotten between him and the alley leading to the police cruiser. Gumbowsky stood tenderly on his bitten leg, trying to think if he could outmove his ex-partner.
Ex-partner. He was amazed at how fast that thought had taken hold. Still, this wasn’t the time for examining how his brain dealt with the sudden and uniquely strange loss of his partner. He needed to get away. He turned his head halfway to look at the alley behind him. As soon as his eyes left Mike’s, he felt Mike’s significant weight hit him full in the torso, knocking the air out of his lungs a second time.
They crashed to the alley floor, Gumbowsky’s head ricocheting off the blacktop surface. He felt a blinding flash of pain and black spots swam in front of his eyes, mostly obscuring Mike’s deranged face. He was sure he had a concussion but didn’t dare reach a hand up to check. His hands were full with trying to pry or push Mike off of him, get free of the monster and get to his feet.
Monster. No, he had to concentrate on escaping. The therapist could deal with these immediate thoughts. He grunted as he tried to push Mike off of him. For a second time today he thoght of all the days he had skipped the gym or super-sized a burger meal. Mike’s face slid down and Gumbowsky started pushing down on his shoulders, but Mike wasn’t sliding off of him. Gumbowsky felt a tearing sensation in his gut and screamed in pain again. He started pounding on Mike’s shoulders and head with his clenched fists. They had no effect.
Mike growled, almost a satisfied grunt, and dug in further. Gumbowsky rememberd his gun and scrambled at his belt to get it out of the holster. Mike must have seen what he was doing, as he swatted the gun away as soon as it came free of the leather case. It went sliding away into piles of trash, far out of Gumbowsky’s reach. Shit.
Another scream escaped from his lips as Mike reached a hand down to further rip at his stomach. Gumbowsky reached down and jammed his thumbs into Mike’s face, tearing at his enemy’s eyes. The monster at his stomach growled and howled, ripping all the more furiously. Gumbowsky was sure he wouldn’t make it out of his alive, but damned if he was going to give up. He kept pressing in on his assailant’s eyes with both thumbs.
Mike stopped clawing at his stomach. It was working! Mike’s hands came to his own face and tried to scratch and tear the hands away from his eyes. Gumbowsky held on as tight as possible, feeling the slimey orbs sliding aside to accomodate his thumbs. Both men screamed at each other.
Mike reached forward and wrapped his hands around Gumbowsky’s throat. His thumbs pressed in on either side of the windpipe and Gumbowsky could almost feel the nails digging into his flesh. Then he did feel it, his mind giving up on trying to block out the pain, adrenaline doing nothing. Fingers slid in and pulled and ripped at flesh and muscle. He didn’t let go of the monster’s head, though, now pulling at the eyes with all of his might.
Both eyes popped out into his hands. Covered with blood, they were hard to hold onto, Gumbowsky held and pulled, ripping the optic nerves out with them. The monster screamed at him and ripped at his throat harder. The creature’s thumbs found his windpipe and punched through it, immediately bringing more black spots to his vision. He tried to suck in air and just felt liquid rising in his throat. He coughed and saw specks of blood flying into the air. Mike pulled one hand out of his throat and wrapped it around his forehead. The fingers pinched in, putting tremendous pressure on his temples, and he felt his head pulled off the floor. Mike’s arm straighted and smashed Gumbowsky’s head into the ground. A few more smashes like that and the world faded completely to black.
Twenty-eight
November 28
Bill couldn’t believe his eyes. She — the girl — Sarah — had peeled herself off the ground. And — and! — attacked a cop! At least it had all ended quickly. A bullet to the head seemed to do the trick. Not that Mike had stopped there. He seemed to be as much of a bulldog as he looked. He had shot the girl in the head again. Point blank range; just stuck the gun to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Thankfully no one else had been watching.
The group at the bench was all gathered around it, those not sitting on it turned to face those who were. Eagle was turned against Bill’s shoulder, crying quietly. It was strangely touching to see so much emotion come from someone that was expected to be so hard and cold.
The two officers climbed out of the subway tunnel. The bitten one, Mike, was bleeding pretty well from his neck, even with one hand clamped over the wound. He was holding his pistol in his other hand, which was bloody, too. He didn’t say anything as he passed Bill and the group at the bench. The other cop, Gumbowsky, stopped to talk to Bill in quiet tones.
“Hey, uh, you saw what happened, I guess. I’m gonna take him to the hospital, of course. You, uh, can you all stay here until we can get back? From the reports I’ve heard, this’ll be believed, but I’d rather have some witnesses. Unless…. No, no, I can’t have you come with us. You have your friends here anyway, and it’d be really against regulations. So, stay here, OK?” He was obviously very nervous and shook up.
Bill nodded. “We’ll stay here. Unless… something else… comes along.”
The cop paled even further. Just for a second, though. He recovered quickly, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, yeah, I understand. If we — I — can’t come back soon, I’ll send someone else. Thanks, Billy.” He reached out and Bill took his hand. The two shook and then the cop turned and jogged out of the subway station. The group around the bench tried to flag him down, but he ignored them. Bill walked over to them, Eagle in tow.
Maureen and George were still sitting on the bench, the other three standing around them. Eagle sat down on the bench, his head in his hands. Bill didn’t pity his position at all. It was hard to lose a friend, a lover. His own wife had died over a decade ago, but he still missed her every night. His thoughts were interrupted by the businessman.
“So where’re the fuckin’ cops going?” He hadn’t said much else, but his face was already starting to turn red. Apparently the cops ignoring him on top of the gunshots and no the lack of power was setting him off the deep end. “Why’d they just run out? And what the hell were the gunshots about? I don’t like all of this… this… silence. I want to know what the hell is going on!” His face was completely red now, his nostrils flaring on every other word.
The two businesswomen were right beside him, nodding along. Bill started to feel his military training rising up in him. The day was going crazy enough as it was without some self-important bean counter demanding to know what was going on. He pulled himself up to his full height, not easily done lately. He pulled in a deep breath and then poked a finger out at Mr. Businessman.
“The cops left ’cause one of ‘em was hurt, or maybe you didn’t see the blood. They’re asking us to stay here until one or both of ‘em get back. I said we’d do it, so you might as well get comfortable.”
“Hurt? What’d he do, shoot himself? Why the fuck do we have to wait here?”
Bill really wished he could just hit the man, but that wouldn’t solve anything. “If you want to know what hurt him, go look on the rails. As for staying here, we’re staying ’cause I said we are.”
The businessman puffed his chest up and shouted “Fine!” at Bill and the rest of the group, then the turned and stomped his way over to the yellow-striped line. His stomping slowed and became a lot more timid as he approached the edge. He stood there for a second, looking down at the gore below, then turned and started coughing and hacking against the wall. Some yellow phlegm-y vomit came up and he braced himself against the wall with both hands. A few more coughs and he muttered “Fuck” after noticing that he’d gotten some bile on his tie. He stripped it off and threw it onto the ground.
Bill turned to look at the other members of the group. “I take it none of you want to see what’s down there?” Everyone shook their heads or muttered “No”. Bill nodded, then looked at Maureen and George. “I’m sure you two know what’s down there already.” Both of them nodded their heads. “Yeah. So I guess everyone just needs to sit down somewhere and just wait, I guess. It shouldn’t be too long before someone gets back here. It’s just that the cops want some witnesses for the report. The incident report, or whatever.” He shrugged and everyone nodded. They all went and found a place to sit, the two businesswomen sat on the steps and Bill pulled a trashcan over and turned it upside-down to sit on.
After a few minutes of sitting in silence, one of the two businesswoman looked up and asked, “So, what’s REALLY going on?”
Bill sighed and decided to dive in. “Well, it looks like… no, it IS that the dead are coming back to life.” He knew it sounded stupid and silly and panicky, but he couldn’t help it. The woman just stared at him. She didn’t belive him, he could read it in her eyes. “I know it sounds… impossible,” he said, “but it’s what’s going on. We saw it happen at the library that we were in this morning. A little girl got hit by a car and then…. She came back. She came back to life and attacked someone else.” Bill had been staring at his hands during the telling, and now he looked up at the woman who had asked.
The businesswoman’s mouth was hanging open now. She was staring at Bill and George and Maureen. “And then what?” She was deathly quiet now but the echoes of the subway platform carried her voice to him. He looked down at his hands again and then continued.
“The woman she attacked — a paramedic that had come to help her — she died. And then she came back, too. It seems to spread through bites. That’s all I really know about it.” He kept looking at his hands but could hear the woman stand up and walk over to him. She squatted down in front of him and pushed his head up so he was looking into her eyes.
“But where does it start?”
He searched his mind, hoping, praying for any sort of answer to her question. All he knew was that it started with the little girl. He had no idea where she had gotten it. Or why. For all he knew, everyone had it. Whatever it was. He swallowed hard and looked her square in the eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Twenty-seven
November 27
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.
The three businesspeople were startled by the cop, but quickly recovered. They nodded their heads and mumbled “okay”. The officer led them over to where Bill and the others were sitting so they’d all be together and easy to interview. Bill noticed that Eagle and Sarah had quieted down. Either things had gotten a lot more serious or they had moved on down the tube. He thought about mentioning them, but decided he didn’t really care after all.
“OK, so first things first. Has anyone here seen anything… odd… today?” The cop was obviously nervous when he said the word “odd”. Another word had almost wanted to form on his lips, but he had held himself back. Probably didn’t want to look like some paranoid eccentric jumping to conclusions that movie monsters were running around the city. “Anything that just shouldn’t have been doing what it was doing?”
“Well, it’s kind of odd that the power’s out everywhere and the trains aren’t running.” That was the quieter woman from the stairs, a hispanic woman in her early thirties or so. She was pretty in a black and white movie secretary sort of way. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she was wearing a cream-colored suit dress. She looked irritated at the subways more than anything else.
“OK, OK, yeah, that’s definitely odd. We still haven’t found what’s caused the power outtages, but they’re all over the city. Some two hundred square blocks are without power and plenty more with major brown outs and other problems. The trains in this area are de — down because of the power, obviously. We’ve shut down the others so there aren’t any accidents and to conserve the power going to the still-functioning parts of town.” He glanced over at the pit that the trains ran through. “That middle rail should still be hot, though. That has it’s own power supply but all it can do it move the train. Nobody wants to get stuck in the dark….
“Has anyone else seen anything other than the trains? Or the power outtages?” He looked concerned but reserved, like he didn’t want to be the one to tell the bad news. Bill leaned forward and read the name tag. Apparently this was Officer Gumbowsky. Bill raised his hand. “Yes?” the officer asked him.
“We saw something. In the library,” Bill volunteered.
“Yes? What was it?”
“I don’t know that I want to tell everyone. It was — it might cause a panic or something.” Bill almost felt silly, thinking of telling about the little dead girl that had turned the whole day on its head. The cop nodded and held out an arm.
“I’ll tell you what, you come up here and talk to me and my partner, he’s in the squad car. If it’s something that these people need to worry about, we’ll come back down and tell ‘em. If it’s not, then no big deal. Alright? That work?” Gumbowsky had a kind smile and Bill nodded while he stood up. Together they walked up the stairs and into the dim, but bright compared to the subway platform, day.
A squad car was parked near the entrance to the tunnel, actually parked on the sidewalk. Another officer was in the car. Gumbowsky was a man of medium build, gaining a little weight around the middle. He still looked fit, but his partner, who was leaning against the cruiser, put him to shame. This cop — Bill couldn’t see his name tag — was all muscle. His blue shirt was tight across a well-built chest and the sleeves seemed on the edge of bursting from muscles on his arms. His neck and head joined into one pillar of flesh. He definitely deserved the cop nickname “Bull”. Gumbowsky waved at him when they emerged from the darkness below, motioning for him to just stay there and they’d come over.
“Hey, Mike. This guy says he saw something strange at the library back up the street. He thought it might alarm the other people, so I brought him up here to talk to us privately.” Gumbowsky turned to look at Bill, a much warmer face than his partner. “Go on, buddy, let’s hear it.”
Bill looked back and forth between Gumbowsky and his partner, Mike. He had to trust somebody, and a cop was as good as God in this case. He took a deep breath, “Alright. Here goes.”
Both cops seemed bored when told about Seth and Elijah bringing the girl in. A hit and almost-run was interesting, but not odd or strange. Definitely not panic-inducing. They already knew about the power going out, but looked a little surprised at the news that the police headquarters was almost unreachable. “We’ve been gettin’ sent all over the place,” Gumbowsky said quietly. “All day long, ’specially since the power went out.” The news that 911 had disappeared was met with a nod. “Yeah. Their power and phone lines both went out.”
Bill straightened up and cleared his throat before he brought up what had happened when the ambulance had arrived. Gumbowsky’s eyes seemd to get wider when the little “woke up”, but Mike’s stayed the same. Bill could hardly believe the descriptions that were coming out of his mouth, but it was what had happened, goddamn it, and it had to be told. He told them about Seth and Elijah and the paramedic Jones killing the little girl again. And about the female paramedic — Mary, he thought Jones had called her — coming back and them having to put her down again. “And then we left, a little while later, once we had our wits again.” He looked at the sidewalk in front of the cop car. He shrugged. “And that’s what happened. Is that strange enough, officers?”
Gumbowsky just stood in silence for awhile, then said “Wow” under his breath. Mike still hadn’t moved. Gumbowsky looked over at him and nudged him. “What do you think?”
Mike, his last name “Jamison” according to the little brass nametag, looked up at Gumbowsky and quietly said “I think we should go check it out. These people will be alright on their own s’long as no new dead people start chasin’ ‘em.” He half-smiled at the “dead people”. Bill had a feeling Officer Jamison didn’t beleive his story. Oh well, he hadn’t really expected them to. Gumbowsky nodded.
“Alright. We’re gonna go check it out, then. Mr…,” he looked at Bill.
“Just call me Billy.”
“OK, Billy, we’re gonna go check out the library. You can go back down there and tell them for us. We’ll come back here when we’re finished. It won’t be long, I’m sure.” Mike had already turned and gotten into the driver’s side of the car.
“Actually,” Bill said, “no, can you come tell them yourselves? I think they’d take it better. I mean, if I go back in there and tell them the police rushed off after I’d told my story, I’m gonna have a lot of explaining to do. And I’d rather not.”
Gumbowsky nodded. “Sure.” He waved to Mike. “Come on, Mike. Let’s go tell these people they have nothin’ to worry about.” Mike grunted and climbed back out of the car. The three of them descended the two flights of stairs into the subway. Everyone turned to look and Bill noticed that Eagle was back on the platform. No sign of Sarah, though. Again, he decided he didn’t really care.
Gumbowsky noticed the new guy, he kind of jerked and nodded when he saw him, but didn’t say anything to him. “OK, people, we just got a call on the radio that we have to go check out. We’ll come back this way, or send another car, when we can. You all can either wait here or start walking home. This part of town seems really deserted, but I know there are plenty of taxis and busses running a few blocks away. Go toward the docks, that’ll get you to the still-working areas the fastest.” He nodded again and turned to leave, Officer Jamison right behind him.
Eagle turned and yelled, “Sarah. C’mere!” again. Those seemed to be his strongest words. Bill saw Sarah emerge from the darkness, buttoning her plaid pants. He could barely make out her shoes and noticed that at least one of them was untied. The pink laces were flapping about when she hop-walked in her still-not-quite-up pants. “C’mon!” Eagle yelled again, his voice echoing hollowly around the landing. Sarah nodded at him and hopped forward again, then disappeared from view. She screamed.
The emergency lights flickered for a second, then flickered again. Eagle rushed forward to the edge, Gumbowsky and Jamison right behind him. Bill ran forward, too, unconciously.
Sarah had tripped on the far rail and falling flat across the other two. Her body was spasming and twitching. “Sarah!” Eagle yelled. He started to climb down into the pit but Mike grabbed him and held him. He was still fighting, almost gaining the upper hand, so Bill grabbed him from the other side.
“Turn that shit off!” Mike yelled at Gumbowsky. He pulled a hand away from Eagle to point to a service hatch on the side of the platform. Gumbowsky nodded and rushed over to it, pulling his keys from their snap on his belt. The rest of the group were huddled together around the bench in the middle of the platform. The emergency lights were still flickering, cycling between bright and off every few half-seconds or so. It gave a slow strobe effect to the whole platform.
Gumbowsky finally found the key and popped the door open. He looked confused, staring at all of the switches and dials. Finally he stuck a hand in and pulled one switch down. The light stopped spasming and so did Sarah’s body. The light glowed as calmly as ever. Sarah lay still, slightly smoking. “Sarah!” Eagle yelled again, pain and frustration in his voice. Bill could see tears sliding down his face. Even a world-hardened punk kid would cry for his girlfriend. Eagle stopped fighting the two men who were holding him and sat quietly. Mike wiped his face and looked over at his partner.