Dark Days (8 page)

Secondly, not only was the fort made mostly out of Manhattan schist, but it was also built on a giant mound of schist. Schist is the rock formation that gives the undead their power. That meant for a zombie, going inside the fort would be an energy boost.

My relationship with Natalie wasn't the only thing that had me conflicted. My mother had been firm when she told me not to do anything Omega unless she got word to me. This was a close call. If I'd had to go underground, I wouldn't have done it. But the Blockhouse was not in Dead City. It was just in Central Park; that made it okay.

At least that's what I told myself.

Even though the fort is close to the Cathedral Parkway station, it took me about fifteen minutes to find it because it's hidden in a wooded area. My guess is that hundreds of thousands of people walk by it every day with no idea that a piece of history is right there.

In addition to being hidden, the fort is also pretty boring. It's about the size of a small house and has four square walls about twelve feet high that make it look like a gray stone cube.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, just that it had something to do with Natalie and Omega. I hoped that it would be obvious and I would be able to figure out what it was when I saw it.

I walked up a small flight of stairs to a gate in the wall. There was a chain on the gate, but when I got up close I realized that it wasn't actually locked. The chain was draped to make it look like it was, but all you had to do was reach through the bars and slide a latch to open it.

The gate made a loud creaking noise as I entered. It should have signaled something creepy, but the inside of the Blockhouse was just as boring as the out. There was a small square area surrounded by thick walls of Manhattan schist. Each wall had a pair of holes that Revolutionary soldiers could use to stick their rifles through and shoot out during an attack. There was also a flagpole right in the middle.

“Underwhelming,” I muttered to myself as I tried to figure out what might have brought Natalie here.

I began to wonder if I was just wrong about the clue. Maybe “B house C Park” referred to something completely different. Maybe (hopefully) I was wrong about everything. That was when I noticed a piece of paper that had blown into the far corner.

I walked over and knelt down to check it out. It was blank on the side facing me, but when I turned it over I saw that it was a poem.

“The Hollow Men” by T. S. Eliot.

I slumped as I realized what this meant. This was where Natalie lost the poem. That meant she had come here because an Omega (Liberty) had told her to. I folded up the poem and slid it into my pocket. As I stood up, I heard the creaking of the gate closing behind me.

My first thought was that it was Natalie. I figured she had seen me digging around her backpack and followed me here to confront me about it.

“Listen, I'm sorry that I . . .”

That's as far as I got. When I turned all the way, I realized that it was most definitely
not
Natalie.

“What's that?” the man said, cupping his hand to the side of his head where his ear should be. “I couldn't hear you.”

He cackled at his joke as he let the moment of surprise have its full effect. It was Officer Pell, my favorite one-eared member of the Dead Squad. He looked pleased to see me.

“Hello, Molly, what brings you here?”

P
ell was big and he filled the doorway, making it impossible to escape. When I didn't answer right away, he asked me again.

“I said, Hello, Molly, what brings you here?”

“Homework,” I said, trying to sound calm. “I'm doing a school project on the Revolutionary War and I came here to check out the Blockhouse.”

“Really? Is that the best you can do? You and I both know why you're here.”

Unfortunately, I really didn't know. I was hoping to find something that made sense to me, but this was a fishing expedition. So, I decided to keep fishing.

“Okay, then why do you think I'm here?”

“You want to see where we supercharge,” he said. “Watch this, I'll show you.”

He smiled and pressed his back against the wall of Manhattan schist. He sucked in a deep breath of air, and it seemed like he got even bigger.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I said. “But I would like to go now.”

He chuckled. “You can't go, Molly. Marek told you to stop messing around in the world of the undead. But you didn't stop, and now you're going to have to pay a penalty.

He took a step toward me and cracked his neck to both sides, loosening up for a fight.

“They tell me you're tougher than you look,” he said with a grin. “I hope that's true. Because I want a little challenge.”

As a place of interest, Blockhouse #1 was boring. As a place to fight a supercharged Level 2 zombie, it was a total nightmare. The four walls kept me penned in like a boxing ring. I decided that the key to my survival would be the flagpole. I tried to keep it between him and me, hoping that if he had to chase me around, he might leave an opening that let me get to the gate and escape.

“I don't know what you think Marek said, but this has nothing to do with Omega. I really am just working on a class assignment. Here, let me prove it to you.” I started reciting the information I had learned during the subway ride. “Blockhouse Number One, which is the official name, was built during the Revolutionary War as part of George Washington's defense of Manhattan.”

He didn't wait for more. He charged right at me, and I dropped down to the ground and did a leg sweep that surprised him and knocked him over. I jumped up and threw two quick punches into the side of his head right where his ear once was. My knuckle cracked through the scar tissue and a small trickle of black liquid dripped out.

He seemed dazed, which was the chance I was looking for. I started for the gate, but while I was sliding the lock open he grabbed me from behind. He wrapped me up in a giant bear hug and lifted me so my feet were off the ground.

“You are a better fighter than I expected,” he said gleefully. “This is kind of fun. Let me demonstrate how well the supercharge works.”

While he still held me in the bear hug, he walked over and pressed his back against the wall again. The schist instantly made him stronger, which kept making his grip tighter and tighter. I kicked and squirmed as I felt him forcing the air out of me.

“Any last words?” he whispered into my ear.

Again with the whispering. I hate the way these zombies whisper. Although, this whisper did help me out. It let me know exactly where his head was.

“Sure,” I gasped. “Heads up.”

I slammed my head back into his face, which slammed his head right into the rock wall. His grip loosened and I was able to break free.

I had a sudden brainstorm. When I was studying jeet kune do, I went to a martial arts demonstration and a man showed us how to walk up a pole. It's tricky but possible. You keep your arms straight as you grab it, and then you tuck your legs up toward your chest and sort of walk up.

I had never actually done it, but I decided this might be the time to try. Pell was giving himself a little recharge on the wall by the gate, which gave me just enough time.

He had no idea what I was doing until it was too late. By the time he got to the pole, I was up beyond his reach. Even so, I climbed a little bit higher just to be safe. He jumped a couple times but couldn't touch me. Still, it was obvious he felt in control of the situation.

“What's your plan, Molly?” he taunted from below. “Your arms are going to get tired really soon. And when they do, you're going to have to come down.”

He had a point there, but climbing the pole gave me a chance to think. I was high enough that I could see over the wall. If someone walked by I could yell for help. The only problem was that out here in the wooded section of the park there was only a small path nearby. I didn't see anybody walking on it.

Then it dawned on me. I could see over the wall, but he couldn't. He had no idea what was out there. That's when I crossed my fingers and hoped that Beth hadn't gotten all of the family's acting genes.

“Hello,” I called to a make-believe rescuer. “Hello! I need your help.”

Suddenly, Pell was concerned, although he tried to cover it.

“No one's going to help you, Molly. Remember I'm a police officer.”

I looked down. “Yeah. But so is he, and he's going to wonder why you're harassing a twelve-year-old girl. He might even wonder what someone in the Departmental Emergency Action Deployment Squad is doing in Blockhouse Number One. It's not exactly your beat, is it?”

Now he was really nervous. “Molly, stop it.”

“Officer, I need your help!” I called out. “Yes. Yes. I'm over here. Thank you so much.”

There was something about the thought of an outside police officer getting involved that worried Pell, which is exactly what I was hoping for. He frantically tried to climb up the flagpole to grab at my feet. And, while he didn't get very high, he got just high enough for the next step in my plan.

I didn't need my dad to take me to a firehouse in order to slide down a pole. I loosened my grip and slid down right into him. I jammed my heel into the top of his head and we both slammed hard into the rocky ground, although he broke my fall and I landed on top of him.

His walkie-talkie fell off of his belt and I picked it up and used it like a weapon, slamming it against his head a few times. There was more black liquid dripping out.

He was unconscious, but I don't think he was dead. I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of there. I charged through the gate and sprinted through the park as fast as I could. I didn't stop to catch my breath until I was on the subway heading home.

I plopped down into the seat and breathed a sigh of relief. Then I heard a voice crackle and say.

“Pell. Pell.”

It startled me until I realized that it was coming over the walkie-talkie. I hasn't noticed that I still had it.

“Someone better let the chief know that Pell's not responding,” the voice said. “We're going to go look for him.”

It occurred to me that a walkie-talkie that could listen to transmissions of the Dead Squad might come in handy. But for the moment, I didn't need to attract any attention. I turned it off and slipped it into my backpack.

There was no one in the apartment when I got home, which was a relief. I was messy from the fight and wanted to clean up before my father or sister saw me.

I had a couple of small cuts and bruises, and there was some of the black fluid on me. I was careful to make sure none of it got near the cuts, and then after I got it all off, I dug out some rubbing alcohol and cleaned it some more.

Finally I staggered into my room and lay down on the bed. I felt the crinkle of paper in my back pocket, and I reached in and pulled out the poem that I had found in the Blockhouse. I scanned it for a moment, and the last two lines caught my eye.

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

I thought about the fact that my world almost ended with a whimper in the Blockhouse. I was lucky to have made it out in one piece. It was so stupid. I wasn't even doing anything for Omega; I was just snooping around trying to figure out what was up with Natalie. I made two decisions.

Decision one: I would actually do what my mother said and avoid anything remotely related to Omega. I couldn't risk getting hurt and, even worse, I couldn't risk starting the all-out war that Marek had threatened. Those two words he said, “undead army,” still gave me panic attacks.

Decision two: I should give up trying to figure out what was going on with Natalie. If and when she felt like she could tell me, she would. Until then, I was determined to be the best friend that I could possibly be.

I felt good about both decisions and was about to take a nap when I saw that another envelope had arrived. Either Beth or my dad had left it on my dresser.

Like the first one, it was addressed to me with no name above the return address. I opened it and it contained a folded map of Manhattan. On the front was a picture of George Washington.

I unfolded it and saw that the map was made for visitors by the National Park Service and that it laid out a tour of places with some connection to the first President.

Just as there was with the first envelope, there was a piece of paper with a single sentence written in block letters with a blue felt tip pen. It said:

RESERVE A PLACE IN HISTORY