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Twenty-five
November 23
They hadn’t been sitting long when the two teenagers decided they were bored and wanted something to liven up their days. Bill hadn’t paid them much attention when he had first come down, but now looked at them more closely since there wasn’t much else to look at. They were probably older than he had thought, they were at least eighteen, maybe in their early twenties. The guy was tall once he stood up, probably reaching six feet. His hair was dark and seemed pasted down to his skull and forehead, a long point of hair hanging down between his eyes. He wore a leather coat and dirty green pants that hung down over his black leather combat boots.
The girl that was with him, girlfriend maybe, was quite a bit shorter. She was probably only five-foot-three or four. Her hair was short and spiky, dyed a flourescent pink that looked almost orange in the emergency lights. She would have been cute if she didn’t have giant holes in both ears and a stud through each eyebrow. Bill just didn’t understand people wanting to put these holes in their bodies. He had a tattoo from when he was in the Navy, but that was different. He had earned that, by God. And it didn’t make him look like a deformed freak.
They both stood up and started walking around the platform. The guy went and studied the map that Bill had been looking at earlier. He had a large eagle stitched out on the back of his jacket in bright thread, reds and yellows and greens. The colors weren’t realistic at all, but the overall eagle was pretty good, Bill had to admit. He had always liked eagles himself; that was what his tattoo was of, even. It spread across his chest, or had. Gravity and old age had taken their toll and, although it was still visibly an eagle, it didn’t seem to have the same power and impact it had had when he got it some thirty years ago.
Eagle did about the same as Bill. He stood and looked at it all, taking it in, appreciating what it could have done. Then decided it was pointless to keep looking at a broken map and turned to find something better to do. He turned and walked over to the slashed yellow line and peered down the tunnel. Blackness filled both ends of the tube, so he jumped down onto the floor of the tunnel, kicking gravel and trash around.
The girl, Bill already thought of her as Eagle’s girlfriend, wandered over towards the businesswomen. “Hey, I like your purse,” she said to one of them. They smiled politely at her, then took their stuff and moved away, closer to the middle of the platform. Closer to other people and the emergency lights. The girl shrugged and sat down on the edge of the platform, kicking her feet. Billy could hear her tennis shoes, which had laces the color of her hair, bouncing off the concrete. The sound echoed in the strangely quiet, strangely empty place.
Eagle wandered further up the train tube, soon disappearing into the darkness. Bill could hear him walking through the gravel and trash, the sounds doubling and re-doubling as they echoed back to the platform. Soon he called “Hey, Sarah!” from the darkness.
The pink-haired girl, Sarah apparently, looked up and yelled back, “Yeah?” She had stopped kicking her feet and was playing with the small pins on her jacket now. She dropped down to the tunnel floor and called “Yeah?” again.
“C’mere, babe,” he called, quieter now. “C’mon over here.” Bill couldn’t see any of Eagle, but Sarah’s head showed above the tunnel. She smiled and walked over to where Eagle was waiting. She reached out a hand when she reached the beginning of the darkness and he pulled her in quickly. Her giggles echoed out of the darkness. Soon smacking sounds and soft moans began to filter out of the echoes and everyone still on the platform seemed nervous and embarrassed.
The business man moved back toward the stairs, peering up at the small amount of sky you could see from the bottom. “Still overcast. Looks like the sun might come out before too long. The rain’s stopped. Guess we could all walk to wherever we need to be.” He turned back to the group to see how his suggestion would be taken.
The two women looked at him and shrugged. They walked over to where he was standing and looked out for themselves. The three of them talked a bit in low, quiet tones. “I think we’re going to walk to another station,” the businesswoman who had come down first said to no one in particular. “If you three want to come with us — you know, to feel safer or whatever — we don’t mind. Gotta be better than staying down here with…” she pointed at the dark hole in the wall where Eagle and Sarah had disappeared to make out.
“Actually, I’d rather you all stay down here for a minute, at least until I can talk to you,” a strange voice said, making the three business people at the stairs jump and turn around. A police office in the ever-recognizable blue uniform had come down the stairs while they were turned around talking to Bill, Maureen and George. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
Twenty-four
November 21
The elderly trio had left the library while it was still raining. Maureen and George huddled together under an umbrella, William had his own. No one ever called him William, though. Not even Maureen and George, whom he’d known for ages. They all called him Billy and he liked it. A nickname made a man feel younger than his years. The excitement today seemed to be cancelling out that particular fountain of youth, though.
They walked down the sidewalk silently, no one really feeling like talking after what they had seen. They were travelling in the opposite direction of the hospital, moving toward the closest subway station to try and get back home as quick as they could. Billy kept repeating a prayer for the subways to still be working silently in his head with every step. The power was out but maybe the trains had their own set up or something. Something that would mean they could get out of this quickly.
By the time they reached the station, a good half mile away, they were all damp despite the umbrellas. Domes over your head didn’t do much good in a blowing rain that came at you sideways. The stairs down into the ground looked dark, but silent looks through the group showed they all wanted to go down and see what the situation really was.
The cloud-filtered sunlight illuminated the first several steps of the wide concrete staircase, but beyond that was lost in shadow. They went down as bravely as they could, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom. A few other people were standing around on the landing, still only halfway down to the level of the trains. They were all shielding their eyes from the light, trying to peer just a few more feet into the darkness.
“I — I think I heard a train pull in,” one man in a business suit said. “I wonder why it’s so dark in there?”
A woman in a pin-striped business suit looked over at him and tiredly said, “Where have you been? The power’s been out for an hour or so now. My whole office left thirty minutes ago. I don’t know if the subways are runnin’ or not, but I’m not about to stand here too much longer.” She started down into the blackness. Another woman standing on the landing looked worridly after her, then followed. That left Billy and his friends, and the business man.
“Well,” said the man, “I’m not going in there, train or no.” He turned to climb the steps leading back out.
“I thought you said you heard a train?” Maureen called to him.
“Yeah, I said I THOUGHT I had heard a train. It could have just been my mind playing with me. Or maybe it was one of those…. I’m just not going down in there in the dark. I’ll find a taxi and take it home.” He turned and stormed up the stairs, full of fake bravado and slightly flustered.
“I hope he makes it home,” Maureen said quietly. “I — I hope we all make it home.” She looked at the two men travelling with her. “Well, what do you fellas think we outta do?” She looked on the verge of sitting down and crying right where she was.
George just turned and looked back into the darkness. He stepped down another stair or two and just stood there, shoulders slightly slumped. Billy wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, he really wanted to see what was going on down on the platform. On the other… he didn’t want to run into any more re-animated… creatures. Two was enough for any man. More than enough. He shrugged at Maureen.
“Maureen, I honestly have no idea. I really want to see what’s going on down there,” he pointed into the darkness below them, “but I don’t want to take a chance that we’ll find more than trains and commuters. George?” George turned to look at them. “What do you think, George?”
George stood there for a few seconds, mulling things over by his facial expression. “I think we should go down,” he said, quietly. He nodded at the two of them, then turned and started down the stairs. Maureen and Billy had to hurry after him. He disappeared into thick darkness quickly, but soon emerged as a silhoutte, backlit by the orange-yellow emergency lights. The platform wasn’t crowded. The three of them made seven or eight total on the cement landing. The two women from the stairs stood near the black and yellow striped line, talking quietly to each other. Another business man stood propped against one wall, briefcase and overcoat folded under his arm. Two younger kids, probably sixteen or seventeen, were squatting on the opposite wall from the businessman, tossing pebbles around.
No one said anything when the trio emerged from the dark. The businessman looked up from staring at his shoes and the floor. His dark eyes took them all in in one look, then he went back to the ground. The kids in the corner didn’t even look up. The businesswomen ignored them, too, except for a small cursory glance from the first woman down.
No train was waiting. The map in the corner that normally showed where each train was with a small LED strip wasn’t working. Only the emergency argon lights glowed, barely illuminating the platform. The three people on the farthest edges, the businessman and the two teenagers, were partially in the shadows, halfway obscured by the short gradient from light to dark. Billy walked over to the map to look closer; Maureen sat down on the benches in the middle of the room and George joined her, standing by her instead of sitting.
The map was in remarkable condition for being stored underground where anyone could get to it. The subways in this city were free for use, so there wasn’t any ticket booth or anyone to monitor activities. Janitors and maintenance personnel regularly came through, so they could have kept tabs on everything, and cops were usually present in each of the loading areas. Still, vandals seemed to have a way to destroy anything they wanted. Just look at highway overpasses and water towers.
The map showed all the tracks that the subway trains ran through the city. Each group of lines had a color coordinated with it. They were in the downtown section of the city, so they were on the yellow line. The lines were painted on the map, but there was also a line of LEDs inset into each one with a matching color that showed were trains were waiting and travelling. It was a great way to see how long of a wait it was until the next train pulled into the station and Bill had never seen another map like it in any of his travels.
Now, though, the map was just a map. No LEDs were lit, no LEDs travelled between stations. The dim orange light of the station made it hard to read the map. After staring at it for a few minutes without really seeing it, he turned around to see what the other two were doing.
Maureen was still sitting and George had joined her. Bill walked over to them and sat down on Maureen’s other side. “Well, guys, any new ideas?”
Maureen looked at him, still close to tears, and shook her head. George looked at him thoughtfully and said, slowly, “I don’t think they’re running, Billy. Looks like they’re all froze up somewhere along the line. What do you think we should do? Should we go look for a taxi cab?” George wasn’t slow, even if he halfway seemed like it. He just preferred to take his time deciding what to say, and he spoke slow to make sure he said it the way he wanted to say it. It was a habit that was somewhat hard to get used to, but faded into normalcy after knowing him for a few years.
“Well, I think you’re right, George. The map’s out. I know that don’t mean much, since it’s electric, too. Just seems like they could power the map if they could keep the trains moving. I dunno what to do, though. I don’t know if I trust any cabs after what happened….” He trailed off, not wanting to push Maureen over the edge. “Anyway, I guess we could try walking. Or we could wait here for a train. These people seem set on doing that,” he motioned around the room at the other five people.
Maureen and George both just looked at him, Maureen even closer to tears than she had been. Seeing the little girl had been hard on her. She and George had lost a child, a girl, to an auto accident many years ago and Bill knew they still thought about her often. Today just wasn’t the day to go to the library.
“Yeah, let’s stay here for awhile,” George said. “I’d rather wait and see what happens. I got a feeling about the train. I think it’ll be the right choice.” He nodded at Bill and Bill nodded back. They’d wait.
Jeb’s arms were burning and his hand hurt from swinging the statue. The man finally looked truly dead, though. Good riddance to him, too. The dead were supposed to just lay there, not start movin’ around again. He was glad it had gone as quickly as it had. He didn’t know if he could have held out much longer. He walked back through the rows of books toward the spiral staircase.
“Ginny? I’m comin’ up the stairs. Everything’s alright now.” He called while he was still walking down the aisle. “Ginny?” He stopped and listened for a reply. Nothing. Oh well, she was probably hiding up on the third floor and couldn’t hear him. Or was afraid to call out or something. He’d see when he got up there.
He reached the bottom rung of the staircase and started up, keeping one hand on the railing and looking up through the hole. These staircases always messed with his head. He would have taken the grand staircase at the back, but he wanted to get up to Ginny as quick as he could. He’d deal with a little bit of vertigo.
Halfway up the staircase, he heard a gasp from above. Ginny sucked in air, then let it out in a long scream. “Ginny! What?” His voice was full of panic for his friend. “What?!” She just screamed again, this one trailing off into a whimper. He looked back down the staircase.
Bob was at the bottom, coming up. He had crawled up a few stairs, using his size to help prop him between the railings. His face was pointed straight up at Jeb and he was pulling himself with his arms more than pushing with his feet. Spit and blood was still dripping out of his mouth. He opened his mouth to let out another of his gurgling growls and Jeb could see that all of his front teeth were missing, knocked out by the flagpole. His nose was broken, too, the blood trickling from it adding to the blood pouring from his mouth. Jeb half-screamed himself, taking another couple of steps up the staircase.
Jeb reached the second floor and scrambled out of the staircase hole. He saw Ginny sitting over by the railing looking out over the library. Her hands were to her mouth and she was staring wide-eyed at Jeb. He could hear her almost hyperventilating. “Ginny, it’ll be OK. I’ll — ” He wasn’t sure WHAT he’d do.
He looked back down the spiral ramp and saw that Bob was about halfway up now, making good speed on his supernaturally strong arms. His head was bent back painfully, staring up at the hole. And Jeb’s face. He tried to smile, but his lips didn’t seem to want to obey. Another gurgle came from his throat and little bubbles appeared in the spit that was pooling on his tongue.
Jeb felt frozen to the spot. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d brain the damn thing twice already. Three times, counting the second whack with the flagpole. It should be choking to death on its own teeth with a smashed in skull. Another growl jarred Jeb from his trance. It came from much too close. He looked down the hole again, squinting against the darkness, and saw that Bob had only a few steps left to climb. Jeb swung his feet over the hole and put them down on the first stair.
Ginny half-gasped half-screamed behind him, but he kept himself from turning and looking. He couldn’t be distracted right now. He had to keep his mind on killing this damn… thing. He stepped down to the second step, still not sure what he was going to do. He knew the time had come to decide when he felt an ice-cold hand clamp onto his shin.
“Fuck!” The word jumped out of him before he could stop it. He felt fingernails trying to find flesh through his dungarees. He kicked with his free foot and felt the sole of his shoe connect with skull. Bob gurgled as he was pushed backward by the kick. His hand didn’t let go of Jeb’s leg. Jeb kicked again and felt his foot slide on the blood-slick skull.
Bob’s fingers began to loosen on his leg, the fingers losing their strength. Jeb was holding himself on the first step with his hands, bracing himself for the kicks. The third kick knocked Bob down a few stairs, his hand finally slipping off. He caught Jeb’s foot, though, and pulled Jeb down a few steps. Jeb let out another curse and pulled back his free foot for a fourth kick. He let it go with all the might he had left in his body.
Bob’s face seemed to split down the middle, blood gushing out from everywhere. His head went back and back and finally pulled his body over. Suddenly one hundred and eighty degrees from where he had been, he failed his arms wildly trying to catch onto anything. He fell back onto the metal stairs, his skull clanging off of one of them. He bounced and slid down to the bottom where he landed with a thud, his neck bent at an odd angle. Jeb didn’t move from his new seat four or five steps below where he had been. Slowly, Bob’s body succumbed to gravity and slid sideways until it was laying on the ground with his head, which was now twisted most of the way around. With a final snap, his body and head both lay flat on the ground. His eyes were open and completely rolled back into his head. Jeb breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Jesus,” he said under his breath. He tried to stand up but found his knees too wobbly to support his weight. He turned and crawled up the stairs, all to aware of how eerie it was to immitate the recently doubly deceased Bob. He cleared the second floor and collapsed on the ground. He couldn’t breathe.
Ginny leaned over the second floor railing and looked down at the contest below. The two men were staring at each other, the larger one a bit wobbly on his feet, Jeb standing so bravely with a long pole in his hands. She squinted into the darkness and recognized the flagpole, mostly because of the eagle topper. She wasn’t sure she wanted to watch what happened.
Since it affected her life, though, she found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t go and hide in the second or third floor stacks. She stood where she was, watching, and felt tears coming to her eyes. She didn’t deal well with stress like this.
The reading table that the two men were standing at had a few books on it. Mostly new releases with plastic-wrapped covers and a few left over from early morning visitors who had paid attention to the signs and not tried to reshelve the books themselves. Jeb reached a hand out and grabbed one of the books. He hefted its weight in his hand, then threw it at Bob’s head. The dead man wasn’t fast enough and the book caught him square in the face. The smacking sound was startling in the quiet library, but it didn’t look like it hurt him much. He gurgled.
Ginny started praying under her breath. “God, just help Jeb and me get out o’ this mess.” Jeb grabbed a second book, cocking his arm back farther this time, and let it go, twirling it sideways so it spun when he threw it. Again the dead man’s reflexes left him wanting. A sharp corner of the book caught him in the eye and Ginny could see the red blood come out on the book when it fell to the tabletop. It was a pity to see good books used in such a way, but it was better than being eaten any day. “Lord, let him make it through. He’s a good man.” The tears began to roll down her plump cheeks.
She sat down, looking through the bars of the railing. The light wasn’t at quite as great an angle here, but she could still see what was going on below her. Bob had apparently had enough of his maltreatment and started to edge aroound the table toward Jeb, who was trying to find a third book. He found a statuette of Mozart instead. He lifted the composer over his shoulder, almost cocked back like a baseball bat, and waited for the dead man to get closer.
Bob saw the statue, but didn’t seem to be able to work out what to do about it. He took another step around the table closer to Jeb, then a second. Jeb didn’t move away, just turned to follow the wobbly corpse’s progress around the table. Bob ran into a chair, almost tripping over it. He finally managed to kick it away, sending the lightweight chair skittering across the tile floor toward the front door. Jeb still didn’t move. Ginny heard him mutter something like “Just keep coming this way, you fucker,” but she wasn’t sure. And language like that wasn’t typical of Jeb. She continued to pray, now mostly in images in her mind than in any words she could make come out.
Bob’s steps were more cautious after the chair but he still advanced slowly on Jeb’s position. The old black man was proving his bravery today. Ginny was still amazed that he would try and take on something like this himself. She knew that if she had been alone with this monster, she probably would have just given up on the spot. Then it would have eat — no, better not to think about coulda beens.
Another two steps and Bob was well within the pole’s length of Jeb. Still, Jeb held his ground, not stepping back even when the dead man’s feet caught on each other and he almost fell face-first into the tile. He caught himself on all fours and looked up at Jeb. The growl floated up twelve feet and found Ginny’s ear. She whimpered unconciously.
When Bob was a couple of arm’s lengths from Jeb, Jeb cocked back the statue a bit further, then swung it around, connecting squarely with the dead man’s missing ear. A horrible crack rocketed up into the ceiling of the library and the dead man wailed. Jeb had been holding the statue by its head, and the square, flat base fell off and clattered on the tile floors. Ginny very clearly heard Jeb hiss “Fuck” this time. She’d let him have a few curses. Her prayers had grown more fervent with ever step Bob had taken and now they reached a new peak. Her eyes were streaming and she was kneading her hands together under her bosom without notice.
Regardless of the strength, or lack of, in the statue, Bob still reeled back from the blow and actually raised a hand to the side of his face. Blood was pouring from his head much faster now and Ginny thought she saw jagged bumps of white poking through the red and pink mess. Jeb threw the bust that was still in his hand at the dead man and it bounced off of his considerable waist. Bob stumbled back a couple of steps but didn’t go down. Jeb cursed again and finally took several steps back. Now he cocked back the flagpole, still moving away from the dead man.
When he was far enough away, Jeb let out a wordless yell and ran forward a few steps toward Bob. The flagpole swung around and rang off the side of Bob’s head, sending him spinning toward the ground. The centrifigal force spun Jeb around, too, but he stayed on his feet. Once he stopped spinning, he approached closer to the dead man and raised the pole over his head. It was slightly bent a foot or two from the end where it had connected with the dead man’s skull. Jeb slammed it down on Bob’s body lengthwise, and a spout of blood gurgled out of Bob’s mouth. The man lay as still as death on the floor. Ironic, popped into Ginny’s mind.
Jeb stood over Bob for a half minute or more. The dead man just lay there, like he should. It looked to Ginny like Jeb was thinking about checking for a pulse, he kept half-squatting. He finally must have decided not to. He turned and headed into the stacks.
Twenty-one
November 20
Jeb twirled where he was crouched. The body still looked like it had looked when they brought him in. Or did it? The face looked different. When they had brought the man — Bob, right? — in, he had just looked… calm. Now his lips were snarled back and his eyes were definitely open and staring. The man’s chest was still, though. Just like it had been.
And the dead did NOT come back to life.
“Ginny, what?” He looked back over his shoulder at Virginia. She was still standing with her hands over her mouth. She had only screamed once, but he wasn’t sure she had breathed since. “Ginny, I don’t see nothin’.” Her eyes didn’t shrink back from the wide-eyed stare she was directing at Bob. Jeb turned back around. The body was still the same. Probably just stress and nerves gettin’ to her, after seeing two people get killed in here. He still couldn’t figure how that paramedic had been killed. But he was sure the dead didn’t come back to life. That was just… crazy.
The fingers twitched. Jeb jumped backward from the body, sitting down hard on the floor. “Wha — ?” The hand was still and Jeb crawled forward a few steps. It was still just laying there. Maybe it was that death thing. Rigid Mordus or whatever it was called. Yeah, that’d explain it. That Rigid thing was setting in and makin’ his body twitch and spasm as everything got all hard and immobile. Jeb chuckled a little. “I don’t think we have to worry ’bout nothin’, Ginny. It’s probably just Rigi — “
Bob’s head turned and he stared at the two library workers with wide-open eyes and snarling teeth, sucking air into his mouth quickly, snorting it out of his nose. His far shoulder followed his head and he was on hands and knees in a half-minute or less. His missing ear still dripped blood slowly, several drops spattering the floor with every motion.
“Jesus!” Jeb scrambled to his feet, stepping back and pushing Virginia behind him. “Jesus,” he cried again, hoping for any sort of intervention from anywhere. The man was dead, DEAD, and the dead didn’t come back. It was a one way street. Ginny was sobbing behind him, the shock turning into tears. What the hell did you do against the dead?
The man, still on his hands and knees, started crawling towards them. Jeb backed Virginia up further into the reading area, putting a table and its chairs between them and the… monster. The man’s eyes were almost solid white. Foamy drool fell from his lips and his tongue, which was hanging from the corner of his mouth a bit. He grunted and crawled faster for a few steps.
“You — you just stop, there,” Jeb said, his voice as authoritative as possible. “Just stop there and don’t come any closer.” The man kept coming, Jeb and Ginny kept backing away. “Hey, I said stop,” Jeb said, his voice shaking more and more. The man just smiled in that open-mouthed way and kept coming, now making a low, gutteral sound almost constantly. Ginny was still crying behind Jeb and he couldn’t figure out what to do with her.
The stairs! He’d get her upstairs. It’d be almost impossible for a man as heavy as Bob was to crawl up the stairs. And if he did, just push him off, right? If Ginny’s story was to believed, though, he’d have to be careful not to get bit or nothing. Well, it was worth a try. He started moving Ginny and himself toward the stairs.
There was a small iron staircase in the middle of the stacks that spiraled up to the second and third floors. Ginny squeaked when she backed into it. “Get up them stairs, Ginny,” Jeb said over his shoulder. He spoke kind of quietly to try and keep Bob from hearing, if he could even still hear, what their plan was. She nodded through the tears and started climbing. Her head topped the second landing and she looked back down to see that Jeb wasn’t following her.
“Jeb!” she half-hissed.
“You go’n up there, honey. I’ll be there in a bit. I’m gonna take care of this and then I’ll come on up there. Go’n now.” He looked up at her and smiled. Her face was streaked with tears, the shiny trails showing up even in the dimness of the library stacks. “Go on.” He said it softly this time, smiling and nodding at her. She nodded back and kept climbing.
When she was safely on the second floor, Jeb looked back down at the man crawling toward them. He was at the entrance to the rows of bookshelves, still slobbering and making that grunty growling sound. The stacks were pretty barren of anything but books. A few bookends and stepstools where all Jeb could think of that he might find. He decided to try his luck elsewhere.
Jeb turned and ran back along the row until he came to a crossing row. He turned to the left, trying to get nearer to the front of the library where he’d have more light and probably more weapons. He couldn’t believe he was looking for weapons in a library! He passed a few rows, then a few more, wanting to be sure and come out on a clear aisle, one without a reanimated fat man waiting on him. He heard a coughing sound coming faintly from back in the library. Good, he was in the clear. He turned left again and was back in the reading area in no time.
He quickly scanned the room. Tables, chairs, a few books. A small bust of some writer stood on top of one of the reading tables. An oil lamp, with no oil, on another, and various other objects on the others. There was a glass-fronted cabinet near the front that held different objects each month. This month was a collection of stuffed toys, mostly teddy bears. That wouldn’t do much good. But what would?
A brass flagpole stood near the front doors, the state and country flags hanging limply from it. The pole would work, but he didn’t know if he could get it off the heavy base. “Shit,” he said, quietly. He ran to the front, deciding to try the flagpole first.
It wasn’t a giant flagpole, standing only ten or twelve feet tall at the brass eagle. The base was short and flat, but weighted down to keep kids from tipping it over easily. It probably weighted forty or fifty pounds on its own, the pole adding another ten or fifteen. All together, way too heavy to use easily. Jeb tipped the pole forward into the library and kicked at the base. He had put it together just a few years ago and he remembered that it wasn’t all one piece. The bottom snapped on and secured with some heavy-duty glue. Maybe he could break it off.
A few kicks and he could feel it starting to give. He picked the pole and base up and slammed it onto the tile floor at an angle. A mightly clang rang out into the echoey library, but the base stayed affixed. He tried again and could hear the fat corpse hobbling through the aisles of books. He wouldn’t have long. He slammed it down again and heard a crack. One of the tiles had snapped in two, but the base was starting to come off. A fourth try and it was visibly coming apart. He kicked a few more times and the pole came free of its weighted base. The flags were attached with carabiner-like hooks, so a couple of seconds later they were disconnected and laying over the circulation desk.
Jeb turned back into the library proper, led by the brass eagle. Bob was just coming out of the bookshelves, now crouched over and standing on two feet. He seemed to be getting stronger, but Jeb wasn’t sure. What could anyone be sure of when the dead started walking? Bob stood more erect for a moment, sucking in air, then turned until he was facing Jeb. He grunted again and started walking, a slow shamble.
The reading area was between the two men, a couple of tables and their chairs directly in the way. Jeb moved forward, putting one of the tables almost directly against his stomach. He’d try to keep one of those between him and this monster if he could. Any extra protection was very welcome. Bob kept sniffing and adjusting his course, staying almost directly in line with Jeb. He bumped into the far table and bounced off, startled. He growled and reached his hands down to grab at the table.
The first thing he noticed was that the rain was gone. No cold, hard drops fell from the sky. He also noticed the wind wasn’t whipping him around. It was a lot warmer here. The strength had returned, but it wasn’t whole yet. He’d just lay here a bit longer, waiting for the final wave to come in.
The place he was in now seemed a lot better, but he couldn’t be sure. His senses all seemed dulled and muted. His tongue was thick in his mouth, seeming to fill up all the available room. He couldn’t taste his saliva or teeth. Hell, his tongue didn’t even seem to move. He could feel that the floor below him was hard and dry, but that was about it. It seemed cold, but he couldn’t be sure; hot and cold were becoming distant memories. An intermittent buzzing came to his ears, far away and tinny. If he concentrated he could hear more, almost make out individual sounds. Sounded like someone talking, but he couldn’t be sure. He had a feeling this would change when the final waves came through. He hoped it would. He wasn’t comfortable being blind to everything.
Blind! Eyes! He gathered all the strength that had returned to him and tried to pry open his eyelids. One came open and he seemed to be looking through vaseline-covered glass. No details were evident. Smears of greys and a few scattered colors were all that made their way onto his retina. A few seconds later the other lid followed suit, but his perception stayed the same. Or did it? It seemed to be clearing slightly. Yes, he was sure he could make out shapes better now, the light came in more strongly than it had a few seconds ago.
His senses weren’t the only thing coming back. Something seemed to turn over in the lower part of his body. A gnawing started in his stomach, a gnawing that couldn’t be ignored. He needed to eat. Anything, everything. Something. He needed to eat. The pain was almost violent, threatening to consume him whole from the inside if he didn’t satisfy it. His lips peeled back as he tried to suck air over his tongue with lungs that didn’t want to respond; they did, finally, but slowly. He could taste meat on the air.
His left hand, sprawled at the end of his arm, clenched into a fist, then relaxed into a claw.