The Undertakers (15 page)

Fight and Flight

Kyle was heavy, and he was badly hurt.

Still, he kept trying to help. Every time I stumbled while the two of us struggled down the short corridor toward the dorm rooms, he would reach out a hand to the wall to steady us. And each time he did so, he left behind a bloody handprint that added to the dark red trail following us all the way from the training room.

If the Corpses got past Tara, I thought, they'd have no trouble tracking us.

There wasn't much time.

The latch on the door to the boys' room was loose. I knew that. So when we neared it, I didn't bother with the knob. I just kicked the door in and shined the flashlight from Tom's pocketknife on the faces of the two sleeping boys.

Dave and Ethan snapped awake, blinking against the glare.

“Hey, dude!” the Burgermeister complained. “Shut that thing off!”

“Get up quick!” I exclaimed. “Corpses are attacking! Right now!”

Five horribly long seconds passed.

Finally Ethan gasped, groping for his glasses with trembling fingers. Dave, on the other hand, grinned and jumped to his feet. “Cool! Point me at them!”

“We're getting out here!” I told him.

“No way! I owe those dead dudes some payback!”

I groaned. “Look, I'm waking the girls! Help me with Kyle. He's hurt!”

“Hurt?” Dave blinked. “How?”

“Come on! We don't have any time!”

Something in my tone got the Burgermeister moving. Nodding grimly, he scooped up Kyle as if the older kid weighed nothing. As soon the weight was off me, I ran to the girls' room.

Maria and Harleen responded faster than the guys had. “Where's Amy?” Maria asked as she pulled on her shoes.

“She was a mole,” I replied flatly. “She set us up.”

Both girls cried in unison, “What?”

I heard a cry from the training room. It didn't sound like a noise that a Corpse would make. I felt myself go cold.

“Hurry!” I told them. “Don't take anything! Just come on!”

Long seconds later, all the recruits had gathered in the darkened hallway. “We're going out the kitchen window,” I said. “Dave, you take care of Kyle.”

“He's bleeding,” Dave said.

“I know. Amy knifed him.”

“I don't
believe
this…!” Harleen whispered.

“Worry about it later,” I told them. “For now we need to find a place to hide and then call for help. Stick together, and keep it quiet. Okay?”

Anxious nods all around.

Suppressing my own rising terror, I used the flashlight to lead us hurriedly into the kitchen. “Ethan,” I said. “That board's loose. See if you can move it.”

“Okay,” he said. Crossing the room, he climbed up onto the old countertop and pulled aside the half-inch plywood covering the room's only window. The glass was long gone, and the alley beyond the missing pane was dimly lit.

“Dave, you first,” I commanded. “Be careful with Kyle. Then the girls. Ethan and I'll bring up the rear. Hurry!”

Dave obeyed. They all did—to the letter.

And I suddenly wondered:
When did I get elected leader?

But I buried that thought along with my pain and fear. There wasn't time for it.

A scream—very human—split the air. Everybody froze. I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. My every instinct was to run out there. Tara was in trouble—big trouble.

But I remembered her final words to me.

Sick with guilt, I hissed to the others, “Keep moving!” Then I pulled Kyle's pistol from my waistband.

Out in the hallway, the training room door burst open. Footsteps approached.

“Your turn, Will!” Ethan called urgently. “Come on!”

“You go!” I replied. “I'll watch your back!”

“Don't be stupid! You need me to hold the window open!”

Of course it was true.

The first Corpse appeared at the kitchen threshold. Another cop.

Swallowing back a scream, I gave him a faceful of saltwater. As he recoiled, I crossed the kitchen at a run, launched myself over the counter, and blindly leapt headfirst through the open window.

Remembering my Undertaker training, I tucked myself into a ball at the last second, using my upper back and shoulders to break the fall. It worked—sort of. I stayed conscious and didn't break any bones, but my whole body stung from at least a dozen nasty scrapes. Harleen helped me to my feet.

We were all there, huddled in a filthy alley behind the dry cleaners.

All but one.

“Ethan!” I spun around just in time to see the skinny kid hop through the window after me. Corpses closed in behind him, moving horribly fast.

“Hurry!” I screamed.

A second after Ethan jumped clear, the window board swung shut. It would slow them down but not for long.

“Get to the street,” I told them all.

Once again they obeyed without question. And once again I didn't permit myself time to wonder why.

Though it was past midnight, this
was
Philadelphia, and traffic sounds were everywhere. However, this particular nameless street looked pretty deserted.

“Now what?” Dave asked, finally struggling a little with Kyle's weight. The injured kid looked like he might have passed out in the big recruit's arms.

Good question.

No sign of Corpses in the alley—yet. But it wouldn't take them long to figure out where we'd gone.

I had Kyle's wrist radio but couldn't risk the time to use it. Better to find a hiding place and then call for backup.

Struggling to keep myself calm, I scanned the street. Just storefronts, all dark, although there were lights on in some of the upper floors. Apartments maybe? Could we knock on a random door and ask for sanctuary? Sure. Six grubby kids begging some old lady to hide them from the cops. Oh, and let's not forget that one of them is bleeding all over the place. Fat chance.

Then I spotted a Dumpster across the street, shoved against the front of a building that looked like it was being demolished. It was one of those large industrial waste containers, seven feet tall and maybe twice that long, with the top of it open all along its length—a big steel box.

Not a great hiding place but large enough for all of us and better than nothing.

“There!” I said.

As we started over, a figure suddenly emerged from a shadowed doorway on our left. “Hey, kids—wanna go to a party?”

Gasping, I turned my flashlight into the stubbly face of a man—a living man—filthy and dressed in little more than rags. He was smiling, but there was this look in his eyes that I didn't like at all.

Maria asked fearfully, “Can you help us, mister?”

“Why sure, darlin',” the man cooed. “Why don't you just come with me?”

He reached for her. His fingernails were long and grimy with dirt.

Without even realizing I was going to do it, I reached over and tapped the guy with the Taser.

He went down like a sack of wet sand.

“What'd you do that for?” Maria demanded, tears shining on her face. “He might've helped us!”

“Don't think so,” Dave muttered. “Good move, Will.”

“Yeah,” Harleen added. “Good move.”

Nearby a police siren blared.

“Keep going!” I said. “We'll hide in that Dumpster.”

We crossed the street at a run.

Gathering alongside the waste container, I told Dave to lay Kyle down gently atop a pile of cardboard that had been lashed together at the curb—probably for the recycling trucks. He did so, and while Harleen stayed with Kyle, the Burgermeister positioned himself beside the Dumpster and laced his fingers.

Ethan took the first boost, scaling the seven-foot steel wall and tumbling clumsily inside. He was followed by Maria and then Harleen. After that Dave hoisted me up to the lip of the box, and between the two of us, we managed to get Kyle inside. It wasn't easy, and it didn't do the injured kid much good, but we managed it. Finally, with as much grace and silence as a drunken gorilla, the Burgermeister pulled himself up and into the huge Dumpster after us.

The container was almost completely empty, with only a few broken two-by-fours lying around. It was a lucky break—the first we'd had all night.

“What did you do to that man back there?” Maria demanded crossly.

“Hush!” Harleen hissed, although I could tell that she was curious. Ethan and Dave were too, for that matter.

I held up Tom's pocketknife, pressing the
2
button. “It's a Taser. I zapped him.”

“But what for?” Maria complained.

“Keep it down!” Dave hissed.

I didn't have time for this. Turning away from them, I checked on Kyle. He was unconscious, his face pale in the flashlight beam, and he'd lost a lot of blood.

Swallowing, I strapped on Kyle's wrist radio.

Someone caught my arm. It was Maria. “I want to know why you did that!” she said, accusation in her eyes.

Before I could answer, Ethan did it for me. He sounded frightened and utterly spent. “He did it because that guy wasn't gonna help us, all right? Couldn't you see that? My dad always says there are monsters in the city—all kinds of monsters. I guess he's right.”

Maria glared at us both, but she said nothing more.

Trapped

The radio didn't work.

“It's basically just a cheap Walmart watch with some generic cell phone parts built into it,” Steve had cheerfully explained during one of tech lectures. “But don't get your hopes up. This phone dials only one person: our on-duty Chatter. All you have to do is press this little silver button on the side.”

Well, I'd pressed it like crazy and—nothing. Not even static. Had it broken sometime during the fight in First Stop or maybe when I climbed into the Dumpster?

Either way it was bad news.

I struggled to stay calm. By now there could be twenty Corpses out there looking for us, and we had no way to call for help!

The others were all watching me. Maria was quietly crying. Harleen had an arm around her. Ethan's mouth moved wordlessly, as though in prayer. Beside me, the Burgermeister stood almost at attention, regarding me as if I was his undisputed commander.

I'm no leader! I don't want
this!

“Busted?” Dave whispered, pointing to the watch.

I nodded glumly.

“It's broke?” Maria exclaimed too loudly. Beyond the Dumpster's high gray walls, the police sirens had gone silent. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

“Nobody panic,” I said softly, holding up the watch. “These things have trackers in them, remember?”

“GPS locators,” Ethan corrected absently.

“Whatever. It means that they can find us. There'll be a squad of Angels here before you know it. We just got to stay put and keep quiet.”

“Yeah,” Dave immediately agreed.

Maria started trembling. “I can't stay here!” she suddenly wailed. “They'll find me again! I can't! I can't!”

“Hush, Maria,” Harleen cooed, doing her best not to sound scared. “Nobody's gonna find us.”

“Shut her up!” Dave hissed.

I raised my hand, demanding silence. Amazingly I got it.

There were footsteps out on the street, neither loud nor hurried. Methodical—like maybe someone was searching.

I met and held everyone's eyes, putting all my newly discovered and totally unwanted authority into that look.

“Be quiet!”

It worked.

The footsteps drew closer.

It was funny how I could tell the difference between dead and living footfalls. It was a subtle thing. When they weren't running like crazed gazelles, Corpses tended to shuffle—not quite like zombies in the movies, but close enough that I could catch it.

And
this
shuffling was very close. Maybe just a few yards away from the Dumpster.

I glanced at Maria. Harleen was gripping the girl now, holding a hand tightly over her mouth.

If she screams,
we're dead.

The footsteps stopped. A voice spoke. “
No
.
Find
.
You
.
Still
.
Smell
.
Blood?
”

Another voice replied, this time in English. “You know the rule. Speak English.”

“
Why
.
Speak
.
English?
Nobody
.
Hear
.
Us
.”

“It's the rule.” Then, after a groan: “So?”

“
What
.
So?
”

“I don't smell them. Do you?”

“
No
.
Smell
.
Them
.
Sweet
.
Blood
.
Buried
.
Under
.
Odor
.
Garbage
.
Vermin
.”

“They're not here. Let's go back.”

A long silence followed. I closed my eyes, gripping the half-empty water pistol so hard that my knuckles went white.

“
Agreed
.
First
.
Check
.
Dumpster
.”

Maria jumped a little. Harleen clutched her even tighter, almost pinning the smaller girl against the Dumpster wall. Nearby, Ethan clamped both his hands over his mouth to stifle a scream.

The first Corpse complained, “
No
.
Want
.
Smell
.
Bad
.”

Dave picked up a broken two-by-four, hefting it like a club. He looked pointedly at me. I shook my head, pressing a finger to my lips. Even if we could somehow take out these two Corpses, more would certainly come—possibly a lot more.

Disappointed, the Burgermeister nodded.

The second Corpse snapped impatiently, “
Obey! Check
.
Dumpster
.
Master
.
Blame
.
Us
.
If
.
Boy
.
Escape
.”

His companion groaned, “
Agreed!
Agreed!
”

The footsteps approached.

A new voice called in English, “You two! Anything?”

The first Corpse replied crisply, also in English. “Nothing!”

The new voice came closer. “Nothing what?”

“Master!” the first Corpse barked. “I mean, nothing, Mr. Booth!”

“Nothing, is it?” This voice sounded different than the others—more authoritative and smarter. “When did you two come through?”

“A week ago, Mast—I mean, Mr. Booth!”

“A week! And you were assigned to
this
task?”

The second Corpse replied nervously, “The others were sent out along the prey's known travel routes. We were left here to check this short stretch of street.”

“So Captain DeAngelo assumes the brats are making their way to their mysterious HQ, does he?”

“Yes, Mr. Booth!”

A groan. “DeAngelo's a fool! These are recruits! They don't even know where to go! More likely they've found some awful hiding place to await rescue. Did either of you consider this?”

“Of course, Mr. Booth!” both Corpses barked.

“And yet you've found nothing?”

“N-no, Mr. Booth!” they stammered together.

“Idiots!” the master spat. Then before I even knew what was happening, something—probably a dead fist—slammed into the Dumpster's steel side.

Maria pulled free from Harleen and shrieked in terror. Harleen gasped and clamped her hand back down over the girl's mouth.

Too late.

The silence that followed seemed as deep as the grave.

Ethan began to quietly sob.

“Well—what have we here?” the master hissed. Then mockingly, “Did I get to the truth?”

All of a sudden, I knew who was out there.

Get to the truth with Kenny Booth.

Apparently the news guy wielded some level of authority among his Corpse buddies.

Booth said pleasantly, “Mr. Ritter?”

My head nearly spun with terror. I fought it with everything I had.

We're dead!

No! The Undertakers are coming! They have to be!

“Mr. Ritter,” Booth said again. “I know you're in there.”

I figured I had two choices: talk or keep quiet. If I kept quiet, Booth would just send his rotting cronies into the Dumpster to find us. If I talked, however, I might be able to buy us a little time.

“I'm here!” I called.

“Ah!” Booth replied. I could almost hear the smirk. “And I'm guessing you're not alone in there, are you?”

“Keep guessing,” I replied.

“Well, as it happens, Mr. Ritter,” Booth said calmly. “I don't want them. All I wanted out of this little raid was
you
.”

I felt my stomach roll over.

“What for?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Plenty of time for all that later. Come out now—unarmed—and maybe I'll leave your little friends right there, safe in the trash. Now doesn't that sound fair?”

I looked around, my mind reeling. Dave was shaking his head. The rest were looking at me with a kind of hopeful horror. Suddenly they saw a possible way out.

All they had to do was give
me
up.

“I…don't think he wants to hurt you,” Ethan said quietly. “Maybe—”

“No way!” Dave exclaimed, leaving me almost weak-kneed with gratitude. The Burgermeister might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had courage—and loyalty. Right then I needed plenty of both. “Say that again, and I'll pound you!”

The smaller boy trembled but shut up.

“Are you listening, Mr. Ritter?” Booth asked.

“I'm listening,” I replied, steadying myself. There had to be a way out! Frantically I scanned the Dumpster. Nothing but smooth steel. Except—wait a minute. What was that
thing
jutting out from the far wall, right next to where Harleen was still cradling Maria?

Frowning, I stumbled past Ethan and Dave, carefully stepping over Kyle's limp form. As they all watched, I knelt beside Harleen and examined the thing I'd spotted.

It was a lever.

And it opened a small hatch at the base of the Dumpster.

I waved Dave and Ethan over. The bigger kid glowered at the smaller one, but they both obeyed. Within seconds we were all huddled together at the rear of our steel cage—all except Kyle, of course.

I wonder if he's dead…

No time for such thoughts!

Booth suddenly called, “I need a decision, Mr. Ritter! Shall we make a deal?”

I ignored him. Speaking in fast whispers, I explained to the other kids what I hoped was a halfway workable plan. I was still counting on the Undertakers riding to the rescue like Han Solo at the end of
Star Wars Episode IV
. The problem, of course, was that I couldn't be sure that Haven even knew we were in trouble. True, they could use the GPS to track us here, but that required someone actually knowing that they needed to be looking!

So for now at least, we had to fend for ourselves.

Or die trying.