Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End (43 page)

5

The amount of blood in the average human body varies. Different factors can attribute to having higher or lower volumes, men tend to have more than women of equal size, people from higher altitudes require more oxygen thus have more blood coursing through their veins than those closer to sea level. It accounts for an estimated 7 percent of a person’s total body weight and can be from 1.2 to 1.5 gallons in volume.

After a person donates a pint of blood, their body restores the volume within a day in the form of plasma, the red cells can take up to 6 weeks to replenish. Typically people can only donate every 8 weeks. Dan Williamson is able to pump out a pint every two hours, he feels he can do more but the medical staff want to be safe.

The process of giving blood takes only ten minutes, he’s able to sit through these sessions with much greater ease than when they needed his plasma which takes about an hour. It helps that he knows that he’s giving a weapon to the cause now, and will be able to see it used first hand. The Rubies have already been sent out, some as far as the northern most tip of Maine. It’ll take a while for them to cruise up and down the networks of roads and through towns, gathering the dead with the globs of Sample 6, but it’ll be worth the wait.

There’s over 300 million people in the United States, most of them are dead. That’s far too many to fit into the city of Breckinridge, the hope is that if they can be lured close enough to the building leaking the Sample 6, they’ll stay long enough for the final strike. The Marines plan to drop the largest ordinance they have just shy of nuclear on the heart of the swarm while the outer rims is quelled with the Bug Juice.

The Ruby known as Abacab is the central hub of communications for the volunteers, she keeps Abby up to date on where their people and the Marines are. As soon as they are close enough to the target the next phase will begin.

It’s been a grueling week for those on the road, the wait back at Story Book Land hasn’t been easy either. Those that will be a part of the strike force are on pins and needles as they watch actual pins that represent their friends slowly move on a map. As reports come in from the travelers Abacab shows their progress with their respective marker.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Carla asks Dan as they cruise up the Charles River in a Coast Guard Long-Range Interceptor. They are on their way to witness the turning point in the war against the dead. Dan agrees, it is exciting, it’s only been 18 months but it feels like this plague has lasted for many tense years.

“Imagine,” Carla continues with wonder as she steers the rigid inflatable craft, “a world without walls. A world where a girl doesn’t have to accessorize with firearms.”

He can only hope to see it. He feels even if all goes well, he’s in for trouble. The sentries tasked with keeping tabs on him have been even more reserved and stoic lately. He noticed these past couple days before Carla and his big adventure, the Major hasn’t been able to make eye contact with him.

Dan doesn’t dwell on it and tries to enjoy the anticipation. They are speeding upstream, swiftly passing a familiar location, Gaines. Dan had been blown off the Washington Bridge and into the Charles where he drifted to this small town. The rise of the zombies had given credence to a cult living here. The recollections make him shiver.

The next point of interest is the city of Breckinridge, their first glimpse is of low income housing along the river bank. Dan had been in a daze both times he was heading in the other direction, once nearly frozen to death in the icy water, the other delirious from fever. The already defunct buildings and dwellings are in ruins from when Cross Lake was allowed to come crashing through upon the destruction of Parson’s Dam. The dead are crammed closely together, packed in like sardines. They all stare in the same direction, toward the center of the city where the Mercott & Price building is located. They pay no mind to the boat, none of them even glance at the survivors that observe them from the water.

Not an inch of space exists between the corpses that cover every street, every yard and lot. The massive horde spills out beyond the city limits, all wanting in. The safe way into Waterloo is by air or as Dan and Carla chose.

Waterloo is comparatively quiet, eerily so. Dan sees firsthand what the devastating flood had done to his home as they near their landing point. “The burbs are dead ahead,” he says sadly when he spots the organized rows of rooftops that peek over the wall meant to keep rising waters back. The protective barrier was only intended to hold back flooding due to heavy rain and snow melt, it was no match for what came through.

Their feet crunch as they walk the sand encrusted street, silt from the river bottom has affixed itself to every surface like concrete. Anything that wasn’t swept away in the torrent is gritty, like sculptures made of sand.

The deja vu Dan feels as he walks along West 8
th
Street stirs up a mixture of emotions; sadness and joy, triumph and loss. The last time he was on this street he was seeking refuge from the dead, thousands of them relentlessly on his heels. It is here he had met little Barbara, the Thompsons, and Becka. The last thing he was looking for was survivors to hold him back and worry about, he didn’t want anyone to have to depend on him. But, he reluctantly traveled with them back into the thick of things in search of his wife. Every moment of that day, every heart pounding step, comes back to him. That was the first day of this nightmare, now he’s come full circle to watch its finale, or denouement as Becka had called it once. Humanity will be closing the book on the darkest time in its history, this epic saga of life among the dead. Dan wonders if anyone could have foretold at the beginning of it all that it would have a happy ending.

“Where do-I mean-
did
you live?” Carla asks.

“Just beyond Shepard Park…”

6

“All right, Abacab,” Rough Rider radios home from the road, “Peace and I have dropped our ball and are coming back.”

The travelers, once close enough to Breckinridge with their followers, unhitch their globs of Sample 6. They have the bait on their roofs in porous Plexiglas tanks on wheels. With just a hit of their brakes they can send the stuff flying off towards the increasingly populous city while they themselves take a quick detour.

“I got an estimated 25,000 or so New Breed coming up from the dirty south,” Soul Train calls in the results of his second run. “I’m gonna ditch ‘em, none too soon. These guys are actin’ squirrely.”

Soul Train’s entourage joins the tightly packed horde that crowds the entry into the city. They chase the rolling clear box that stops once it strikes the feet of those already trying to get into Breckinridge. The dead smell the sample within reach, they turn to claim it first but the New Breed shove them aside and fight each other for control of the box.

The tank changes hands several times as it is yanked and torn from one another. The berserkers batter and bash the container until it falls to the road in pieces. They devour the globs of slime, eating their own hands to get every last trace off their fingers.

They almost look disappointed once it’s gone, scanning the remnants of the clear box for more, like addicts that have just had a small taste. They catch a whiff of the much larger supply somewhere in the city, the largest score ever. They charge the crowd, ignoring the classic ghouls that have been relatively patient, bullying past and climbing over them to get in.

“All units, get clear,” Abby says from his command post high atop the Hammond Grand Hotel in Waterloo. He has set up on the observation deck that surrounds the upper floors and has an unobstructed view of the target. The dead writhe in the streets like a turbulent sea, packed shoulder to shoulder, all facing one main focal point, the Mercott & Price building where it is suspected a large quantity of ‘God’s Booger’ has reached its full expansion and is releasing itself as a gas, drawing the dead to it.

Vida is with him, she could have joined one of the bait teams but chose to be here instead so they can watch the show together. Lady Luck dropped them off and is in a holding pattern above Breckinridge in her chopper, ready to land one of the many finishing moves from the sky.

“Dan,” Abby says over the radio, “wanna call it?”

“Really?” Dan asks, smiling ear to ear. He beams like a child that’s just been told he can do something grown up for the very first time.

“Really.”

Dan and Carla had just gotten to the roof of his old apartment building, the view isn’t as great as the Hammond, but Dan couldn’t think of a more perfect place to watch this from.

They have just unburdened themselves of their supplies, Carla’s Ak-47 is leaning against the edge of the roof next to their sprayers of Bug Juice. The weapons are just precautionary, as suspected Waterloo is zombie-free.

“All right, boys and girls,” Dan speaks into the radio and shivers with excitement. “It’s time, 99 red balloons.”

“You heard the man,” Lady Luck confirms the order to strike. “99 red balloons is a go!”

The Marines fly in first, dropping the largest non-nuclear ordinance at their disposal on and around the Mercott & Price building. Great eruptions of fire light up the city. The concussive force levels the dead near ground zero. The zombies are so tightly packed those not destroyed instantly, burn up in the expanding inferno, or are torn to shreds by the shock wave. The rest are knocked down around the craters that are left behind. The domino effect renders those that survive the first volley trapped, sandwiched on the street with their brethren.

The next phase belongs to the crop dusters that come in over the tops of the buildings from every angle releasing Bug Juice over the city. The poison rains down on the dead and works its mysterious magic.

Cheering floods the airwaves as the survivors celebrate. Through the victorious chants a voice fights to be heard. “Abby, we have a problem.”

“What’s up, Rough?”  Abby asks, unable to take his eyes from the glorious carnage. He can’t imagine anything can be wrong at this very moment, a moment that brings tears to so many eyes.

“As soon as the birds came in a big batch of New Breed took off. They just shot out of the city and struck north. They tasted the hook.”

“How big?”

“Thousands.”

“Fuck me!” Abby curses. “Tell me we have a bird full of Juice!”

“Negative, Abby,” Lady Luck reports sadly. “Every drop has been dropped.”

The hope was that the strike would be so swift, that even the dead that have evaded previous entrapments would be caught off guard. This group of thinkers had clearly seen a sign that things were not right. Their self-preservation was more powerful than their addiction.

“All units, converge on Waterloo,” Abby redirects those from their routes home.

“Most of us are nearly outta gas, chief,” Rough Rider says. “Just enough to get us to the re-fuel. We don’t have the firepower to take them on anyway.”

“We just need to contain them,” Abby commands desperately. “Just enough time to re-fill the dusters.” Silence over the radio tells Abby that it won’t be possible, these New Breed will get away. He tries again, “We can hold them and wait. It’s our only hope.”

“The fuck it is!” Dan counters, already on the move.

Abby sighs, he wants nothing more than to finish off this rogue group but realizes they may have to let them go. “Look, Dan, we’ve struck a massive blow against them, this is the turning point. We can’t afford to lose you, your blood is needed to pick up the spare.”

“You’ll have it,” Dan assures as he bounds down the stairs of the building he once lived in. “I’m unkillable, right?”

“Not if you take enough damage.”

“Then I’ll be careful.”

“Just sit tight. We’ll be there to pick…”

Dan has switched off the radio and tossed it into the olive bag he carries on his way out of the building.

“What’s the plan?” Carla asks.

“Here it is: you go back up to the roof and wait for the Rubies,” Dan answers.

“Fuck you,” she retorts. “I didn’t come all this way to just sit and watch.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what we came to do.”

“Yeah, well, shit…I’m still going with you.”

“You don’t have Rubicon armor,” Dan points out, walking fast toward the south end of the city, his sheriff relentlessly follows.

“Neither do you!” she counters. “Abby’s right, you can’t come back from everything. They could tear out your heart, or crack open your skull and get your brain. C’mon, Williamson! Together we’ve faced a million zombies, and we’ve rocked them all!”

He knows better than to argue with her, her mind is set. They haven’t much in the way of weapons aside from the blood in Dan’s veins he only has his 9mm and the sprayer of Bug Juice. Carla has a sprayer and her AK-47. The tanks on their backs are heavy, the contents slosh with every stride as the two run.

“So, where are we going?” Carla asks, having never been to Waterloo.

“The dead should be entering near ‘the Hills’, it’s the ritzy side of town,” Dan explains. Aside from all the dried river dirt and post-apocalyptic destruction, the area certainly reveals a higher degree of sophistication, less pawn shops and more brand name store fronts. “There’s a small open area called Wilmet Park, we’ll have to get the dead there.”

“Why’s that?”

Howls just a few blocks away, the screeching of the New Breed, rob the peace Waterloo has known since the flood. Dan hasn’t time to answer, he sees the chopper in the air that marks the location of the horde. The cries of the dead spread out, coming from different streets as the large group breaks up.
Perhaps
, Dan thinks,
they’re afraid of the eye-in-the-sky stalking them from above.

Dan is fearful for Carla’s safety as a mob of quick zombies round the street ahead of them. The dead set their eyes on the two humans they’ve found and let out a starved yell. Dan has no choice but to shove Carla into a bank vestibule for her own good.

Carla bangs against the glass door, wanting to help. Dan holds it shut, he has an idea on how to get her through this if she would just calm down. Her thrashing causes his shoulder to bounce against the door. She has her assault rifle in her hands and is ready to fight, Dan can’t let her, the dead are too close and coming in too fast. They are mere seconds away from falling upon him, in this brief span of time Dan squeezes the trigger on his sprayer and douses himself.

The ravenous zombies tackle the man, tearing into him with starved fury. They are too engrossed with the meal at hand to notice the human under glass that watches the bloody scene, her hand covering her mouth in horror. Blood splatters onto the large windows getting smeared by the wild dead.

The poison in Dan’s blood takes effect, but as the zombies succumb to it and fall limply to the ground, more move in to take their place. The New Breed trying to get at the morsel are drenched in the blood flying from the screaming man, they fall once the concentrated secret weapon is absorbed into their dry flesh. Finally, the dead take notice of their dying brethren and cease their gluttonous feasting.

The remaining zombies, those that hadn’t gotten their chance to eat or come into contact with the arterial spray, stare down at the bodies and the left overs on the ground, none are willing to touch what lays in a heap of bones and tattered cloth. The remains shutter, taking a ragged breath once its thoracic cavity reforms enough to allow lung expansion.

A bloody wet cough is the prelude to the man rising as his musculature grows back. The attack was excruciating, the healing process is actually worse. Dan would describe it as pain in reverse, an intense itching where his flesh should be before becoming restored. His shaky steps are slow at first but gain in strength and confidence as he makes his way to the closest corpse.

“S’matter, fuck-o?” Dan says staring into the lifeless eyes of one of the New Breed that backs away. It was once a man, its teeth are bared in a creepy grin where the lips have dried and shriveled. “Ain’cha hungry?”

Carla cracks open the door, having to force it against the sprawled bodies. Dan sprays her with the Bug Juice as they saw him do to himself before they fell upon him. Using their capacity for learning against them, they will think eating Carla will lead to the same fate as the attempt on Dan, they will conclude that these humans are no longer on the menu.

The group dissipates, leaving the tainted meat alone.

“That was disturbing, but brilliant,” Carla congratulates her friend as they begin to walk south.

“Thanks, I was inspired by a story I read as a kid, Leiningen versus the Ants. Ever read it?” His clothes in ruins, hardly covering him at all, he takes a moment to reach into a shop window that had shattered at some point in time and retrieve something to wear after salvaging what he can from his pockets.

“No.”

“When I was in school, I never wanted to read the assigned reading…”

“Ya know, why can’t you just take a compliment like a normal person?” she asks annoyed.

“…As soon as they handed out the primers I was searching for something interesting…”

“You’re like MacGyver with special needs…”

“…Leiningen was a farmer whose farm was at risk of being invaded by these killer ants. At one point he douses himself in gasoline because the ants didn’t like the smell…”

“At least MacGyver’s explanations were done as inner monologues.”

The call of the wild dead reminds them that it isn’t over, there are more New Breed howling elsewhere around them. “Too bad they all didn’t see the show, the next group won’t hesitate to eat us,” Carla says.

“Then, we’d better get moving,” Dan replies. They continue toward their goal in a sprint.

The two are jogging, more and more finding themselves heading uphill as they head deeper through ‘the Hills’. The howls of the dead are close now. Dan leads Carla around a corner, she can see the park he spoke of to her right but he keeps her on the other side of the street. Wilmet Park is a beautiful field with running trails and a rose garden, at least it was once beautiful when there were people to take care of it, now the once lush lawn is overgrown and shaggy. At the center of this oasis amid the urban jungle stands a water tower, across its side is painted the nickname of this section of the city, just another way for the rich to feel separated from the common folk.

Dan brings them to a hardware store. The lock is quickly broken for them to gain entry. They wait briefly in the light spilling in behind them from the shop’s windows before heading into the shadows for whatever Dan has in mind.

He hands Carla their radio. “Call Lady Luck. Tell her to look for the smoke.”

“What smoke?” she asks.

Rather than answering her Dan hands her an item from the display he knew he’d find here considering the type of shop it is and the season in which this all started. Carla holds a heavy fire log wrapped in paper, she sees Dan kneeling at the bottom of an endcap full of them.

“Once she finds us, tell her to look for the water tower and to shoot the hell out it,” he says. Carla hears Dan’s trusty lighter click open but she doesn’t see a spark. He’s struggling to turn the wheel with his thumb, he had just filled it a few days ago so he knows that isn’t the problem. It’s the flint, the flint that makes the spark is spent and the wheel won’t turn.