Dead, but Not for Long (40 page)

He paced the room, wondering if he should go. With
the military bombing the city, the hospital might be one of the few safe places
left. Then again, if that were the case, would they dare hit his building,
being so close? Doubtful. The powers-that-be would want to leave roads open,
providing access to the hospital. Destroying his tall building would cause
quite a bit of debris to fall and would surely block the road. They would never
do that, he decided. He stepped over to the vent, wanting more information but
he turned and walked away in frustration. If he let them know he was still
alive, they might try to rescue him. And what if those at the hospital weren’t
the good Samaritans that they claimed to be? What if they were nothing more
than scavengers, looking for more loot? Just because they had told those on the
eighth floor that they’d been in touch with the military, didn’t mean it was true.
It could all be a story to gain the trust of those in the building.

If it was the truth and the military had promised
not to hit the hospital, then his building would surely be safe as well. If it
was a lie, then he was wise to stay hidden. Either way, staying was the only
smart option.

Chuck leaned close to the vent when he heard
voices again. Someone was telling the woman to give it up because he was
obviously dead. Let them think that, he thought. Soon he’d have his fortress
all to himself.

~*~

The bikers obviously had their hands full from
what Keith could see. “It’s hard to believe there were that many of them
inside,” he said to Autumn.

“My Grandma said she grew up in a little town in,
I think it was Minnesota,” Autumn said.

Keith glanced at her, wondering if she was changing the subject, but she continued.

“When she grew up, she moved to New York City. She
said her apartment building had more people in it than her home town.” She
looked down at the pen that she was twirling between her fingers.

“That had to be some serious culture shock,” Keith
said. He liked his house and wasn’t sure he could live in a building full of so
many people. “Does she still live there?”

“She died before my parents did.”

“Sorry to hear that. I lost my grandma a few years
back, too. I still miss her.”

Keith watched as the headlights moved away from
the building, the infected following. The streetlights illuminated a steady
stream of the dead that just didn’t seem to end. He sent a message to update
those in the office building and waited for a reply.

“Ready?” Keith asked Autumn. He began to read the
dots and dashes to her then when the message was done he looked it over.

“They want to know if it’s safe to come down and I’m
not sure what to tell them,” he said. “I’ll see what Snake thinks once the
bikes stop moving.”

~*~

Snake rode ahead to the crest of a small hill and
turned his bike around to shine his light back the way they’d come. With the
help of the street lights, he could see the infected still pouring out of the
building and the surrounding areas. They looked like a stream of ants marching
into a flowing river. He was amazed how creatures with such primitive instincts
could somehow understand enough to follow each other to the source of their
yearning. The moans of a thousand undead echoed through the dark of the early
morning composing a dirge that only added to the despair that hung in the air
like thick smog. He had become the pied piper of the dead. He could lead them
for miles, but he knew that they would probably be back. He had to figure out
how to destroy them.

Wolf and Lindsey pulled up next to him and watched
the bizarre parade march toward them. “Too bad we couldn’t trap these things in
a warehouse or something, and, I don’t know, maybe burn it down,” Wolf said.

Snake’s eyes lit up.

“That’s a great idea,” Lindsey said, glancing back
at the mass of lumbering bodies. “Corral them somewhere. But do you think fire will
kill them? It should work if it’s hot enough to destroy the brain, shouldn’t
it?”

“I’d like to think that a good fire would boil
their brains,” Snake replied. “Even if it doesn’t, I think it would burn off
enough body parts to at least slow them down. I’d really like to get them into
a building and collapse it on top of them, but I ain’t got no dynamite.”

His radio beeped and he answered, listening to
Keith’s question. He was in a dilemma. The infected were still following the
majority of his men away from the building, and he didn’t dare thin the troops
any more, but he still wasn’t sure how many of the ghouls, if any, had stayed
behind. By the sound of it, the survivors weren’t armed.

Snake looked at the small group before him. He trusted Wolf with his life, having known the man for many years. In fact, he
couldn’t think of anybody he’d rather have beside him in a fight. Lindsey had proven herself in the office building earlier and, as she had pointed out
herself, she was fast. The fourth member of the group was Smiley, who had recently joined up with Snake and his men. He’d held his own in the fights they’d had with the infected so far,
but Snake thought that the man must weigh three hundred pounds and it wasn’t muscle. He hoped that Smiley could run if it became necessary.

“This might be up to the four of us if you guys are up to it,” Snake said.

He nodded toward the mass of infected that were still following the larger group of bikers. “I say we circle back around and
hope most of those things follow our rolling lunch wagon over there.”

“I’m in,” Wolf said. Lindsey also agreed to go along.

“Can’t let you guys have all the fun,” Smiley said with a grin, flashing his gold tooth.

Snake radioed Moose, who was the lead man on the
convoy, and pointed out a large warehouse building in the distance where he
hoped they could lead the horde. It was an older building that seemed to have
very few windows, but several large overhead doors that could be opened to
allow the dead in, then secured. He only hoped it was unlocked. He watched as
the lone biker sped ahead to investigate.

“Keith?” Snake keyed his radio. “We think that
most of them are gone but tell them to hold on for a few more minutes. We’re heading back.”

~*~

When Keith got the message, he promised he would
pass it on. Grabbing his flashlight, he started to reply and got as far as
saying, “We think most of them are gone, b . . .” Then the batteries died.

“Oh, no,” he glanced at Autumn. “They’re going to think it’s safe to leave.
Autumn, we need batteries, pronto. Can you help me find some?”

He was trying to stay calm but he couldn’t handle the thought that the survivors
in the other building might end up dying over a couple of bad batteries.

~*^*~

On the eighth floor of the office building, the group continued to watch out the window, discussing their options.

“Look, the person in the hospital said that most of them are gone. Let’s just go.”

“We have no weapons,” another replied. “I think we
need to get a clear answer first. The last message sounded unfinished.”

They used their flashlight to ask again if it was safe to leave, but there was still no reply.

“Let’s wait a bit longer, just to be safe,” someone suggested.

“But not too long or the deadheads will start to come back.”

~*~

Chuck frowned when he heard the sound of engines. Maybe
that’s what had caused him to wake so early, he thought. They weren’t military
vehicles or helicopters. They sounded more like motorcycles. He hurried to the
window and looked outside, shocked to see a long line of headlights moving down
the road away from the building. It couldn’t be a coincidence, he thought.
These bikers had to be involved in the alleged rescue. He’d seen them a couple
times, zipping around on the streets, and he’d hoped that they were just
passing through, but apparently no such luck.

“Rescue, my ass,” he muttered, shaking his head.
The others had bought the story, but Chuck was no fool. The biker gang had
obviously taken over the hospital and who knew what devious plans they had in
mind for those inside the building? Anarchists, he told himself. They were
probably enjoying the chaos, having no accountability anymore. He worried about
what they might do to those on the eighth floor. He took a few steps toward the
vent, wanting to warn them, but then he stopped. Would they even heed his
advice? And if they did, would it matter? They’d already alerted this biker
gang to their presence. If he let the others know that he was alive, they might
tell the bikers. That thought almost sent him into a panic. They’d come up and
take his stuff. He couldn’t let that happen. Frantically, he began to move
furniture against the door, knowing that he might not have much time to fortify his apartment.

~*~

By the time Snake and the others reached the office building again, it was getting late.
Lindsey was worried about going back into the building in the dark, but they didn’t have much choice. The
sun would be rising by seven and they were running out of time.

“Let’s shut the bikes off this time,” Snake said. “The
light will only help us when we’re in the lobby and it’s sure to draw
attention. I think we need to do this as quietly as possible.”

Once the engines were shut off, the small group
found themselves in something close to silence. There were the ever-present
moans in the background but other than that and the whispered conversation of
the group, the morning was still. Lindsey thought about how strange it seemed
not to hear the sounds of traffic and the normal noises to which she had become
so accustomed. She wondered if the world would ever be noisy again.

Snake picked up his radio when it squawked and he
listened as Keith told him that they’d lost contact due to dead batteries in
the flashlight. They spoke a bit longer and Snake put the radio away.

“We’d better make sure we know what we’re killing,”
he advised the others as he entered the foyer. “Could be hard to tell the
difference between a freshly risen zombie and a white collar dude stuck in a
cubicle all day.”

He pulled out his flashlight and checked it again,
though he’d already tested it before leaving the hospital. “I bet Keith wishes
he had the bunny batteries, too,” he said. He shined his light across the lobby
until it reached a stairwell.

“Is this the way you went?” he asked Lindsey.

“This is it,” Lindsey said, nervously. She walked
over and closed the door to one of the halls while Wolf did the same to the other.

“I should have done that last time,” she said. “It
would have saved me a whole lot of grief.” She was prepared this time, gun in
hand. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but if the need arose, she would
be ready.

“You need to tell me what happened when we get
back to the hospital,” Snake said, moving toward the stairs with the others
close behind. “I have the feeling it’s going to be an interesting story.”

~*~

Moose, who had been sent to scout the building,
reached the warehouse and dismounted. He pulled a sawed-off shotgun from one of his
side bags and carefully surveyed his surroundings. The place was quiet. He
yelled a couple times, hoping that any dead close by would be lured out into
the open where he could either take them down, or run like hell, depending on
their numbers. When nothing took the bait, he tried a few doors until he found
one that was unlocked. Slowly, he opened it, shining his flashlight inside to
reveal a vast warehouse partially filled with tires. Several large overhead
doors lined each side of the building, with a small office in the corner and a
door leading to the other side of the building. After searching the office, he
radioed his friends that were leading the undead procession.

“This is perfect,” he reported. “I’ll leave one of
the big doors open. Lead them in and we’ll escape through the office and out
through the back door. Should be a breeze.”

He continued to survey the scene while he waited
for the horde to arrive. The building was large enough to hold a small rock
concert. Concrete piers stretched from floor to ceiling for a couple hundred
feet. He could see that the columns were aging as stress fractures spider-webbed
across them. The ceiling, about 30 feet up, seemed to sag. He couldn’t believe
the place hadn’t been condemned, and he was sure it wouldn’t take much to bring
it down. The question was . . . how?

~*~

Snake crept up the stairs, pointing his spear
ahead of him, with his skeleton crew in tow. As he climbed each step, his
flashlight jerked, causing shadows to jump along the wall. Each landing had a
door that led to vast darkness and each time he came to one that was open, he
cautiously reached for the door and closed it so that no stragglers would
follow them up. Twice they had to stop and kill off crawlers that were blocking
the doorways. Snake could almost feel the time ticking away and he began to
wonder if they’d make it within their deadline. There was no way he was going
to abandon those in the building, but if the dawn arrived before they reached
the top, he’d try to send the others back to the hospital and finish the rescue
himself. Knowing his men the way he did, they would not leave, and he had the
feeling that Lindsey wouldn’t, either. That made him even more determined to
get everybody out quickly. He didn’t want any more lives on his hands.

The stench of death permeated the stairwell as he
approached what remained of a rotting carcass. The smell almost made Snake gag
as he looked away and pulled his shirt over his mouth. When he looked again, a
pair of lidless eyes was staring back at him.

When Snake stopped, Lindsey ran into him then
backed up. She peeked around him to see the remains of a person and she
shuddered at the sight.

“He’s dead, right?” she whispered.