Cemetery Club (32 page)

“Who was that?” Cory asked, as Marisol sat up.

“John. Trouble at the hospital. He said we should hurry.”

“Damn. All right. Bring the Holy water.”

Five minutes later they were driving through the deserted streets. Although they didn’t see any zombies, signs of their presence were everywhere: broken windows and doors, empty cars in the middle of roads with their engines running, dark stains on the sidewalks.

The hospital was a madhouse when they arrived, with three police cars blocking the main entrance, their lights still flashing. People were running in all directions. Inside, the lobby looked like something out of a disaster movie. Chairs and end tables had been overturned, magazines were scattered across the tiled floor and a large potted palm lay crushed and broken, its dirt spread out around it like granular blood.

Marisol headed for the elevators but Cory pulled her away.

“No enclosed places,” he said. “Let’s take the stairs.”

John’s room was on the fourth floor and they made it there without encountering anyone.

It was a different story when they exited the stairwell.

Two zombies were in the process of climbing over the nurse’s station. A middle-aged nurse - who’d already been bitten at least once, judging from the blood stains on her white uniform - cowered behind her chair, calling for help. A man and a woman stood near the elevators with twin boys who looked about six years old. The wife was furiously pressing the elevator buttons while her husband shouted at her to get the doors open. Down the corridor in the other direction, screams came from several of the patient rooms.

“Which way to John?” Cory asked, hating himself for not going to the nurse’s aid but knowing they had to get to John.

“That way.” Marisol pointed to their left.

They started down the hallway, Cory holding a baseball bat while Marisol did her best imitation of an action hero, holding a water rifle in each hand.

A zombie sprang out from a doorway in front of them. “Mine!” it yelled, nearly startling the bat out of Cory’s hands. It was the first time he’d heard any of the dead speak. Cory swung the bat just as the zombie grabbed him. There was a sound like ice cracking and the creature’s left arm suddenly had an extra joint between the elbow and wrist.

It showed no sign of pain.

Before the thing could grab for him again, Cory swung a second time, this one a perfectly-aimed blow that split the monster’s head open, revealing pink flesh and white bone. A third strike with the bat shattered the skull and sent pieces of bone and brain across the hall.

Only then did the walking corpse go down.

“Hurry!” he told Marisol. John’s room was still three doors away. More screams came from behind them and he risked a glance back as they ran. The elevator doors had finally opened, releasing five more zombies who immediately attacked the family standing there. Cory caught a glimpse of a dark, shadowy shape attached to the face of one of the children.

That would have been us if we’d taken the elevator.

Cory couldn’t believe how many times they’d managed to escape death in the past few days. How long could their streak continue, especially with the enemy growing in numbers every night?

“Cory!”

He stopped at Marisol’s shout, realized he’d run past John’s room.

Keep zoning out and you
will
get killed,
he chided himself.

“John?” Cory’s heart sank. The bed was empty and one of the chairs overturned. Were they too late?

The bathroom door opened and Cory raised his bat. A figure stepped out, emitting a startled exclamation when Marisol shot it with her squirt gun.

“Hey! It’s me.” John had one hand in the air and the other pressed against his stomach. “I was hiding.”

“John! You’re all right!” Marisol ran to him, would have hugged him but he put his hand out to stop her.

“Stitches, remember? I hope you guys have a plan to get us out of here.”

“Stairs,” Cory said. “They were empty on the way up and hopefully they’ll be that way on the way down. But we have a stop to make…….”

“Todd?” John asked.

“Yeah. He’s in CCU with his mother. Second floor.”

“Let’s go.”

To Cory’s relief, the stairwell was still empty. The second floor was as well. No one moved in the hallways or rooms, which looked like a war zone. Beds and chairs were turned over, papers littered the floor and bloody body parts were scattered everywhere.

They found no sign of Todd or his mother.

“Oh God.” Marisol put her head on Cory’s shoulder. He placed his arm around her, felt her trembling. Warm tears dampened his neck.

“Dammit.” John’s lips tightened, as if blocking his sorrow from escaping. Cory wondered if the man could only express fear and anger, if he kept everything else bottled up inside. Or had all his other emotions been drowned by his years of drinking?

The sound of gunfire on one of the floors above them made them all jump.

“C’mon.” Cory indicated the door. “We can’t stick around. We’ll head back to Marisol’s and figure things out later, when we’re safe.”

“Safe?” John let out a bitter laugh. “There’s no place left that’s safe. Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?” Marisol asked.

“This is the end of Rocky Point.”

Jack Smith paced back and forth in the Mayor’s private office, well aware it was getting on the nerves of Mayor Dawes and his secretary-cum-current squeeze, the well-endowed and willing Betty Smyrna. They’d been holed up since just after six p.m., going on close to nine hours. The attack had occurred as they’d sat down with the Town Council to discuss emergency procedures. Dawes wanted to continue keeping a lid on things. Jack wanted to bring in the big guns and restore order fast.

When the Mayor had objected, saying the bad press would ruin them, Jack had countered with “But think of the good press you’ll garner by putting an end to the crime wave. We can put a good spin on it. Say you’re not afraid to do what it takes when the town is in trouble. That you’re not a typical politician, worrying more about his reputation than his constituency.”

Unfortunately, Dawes had remained un-swayed. Had it been any other type of problem other than a crime wave, Jack would have been more than happy to let Dawes stay the course and screw things up even more, thereby opening the door to Jack’s ascension to Mayor in the next election. But in this instance, it would be guilt by association for the entire town government, which would not only mean losing any chance of re-election, but probably financial devastation as well. After all, who would do business with someone they considered responsible for needless death and property destruction?

Things had been going nicely, with several of the Councilmen jumping on board with Jack’s proposal, when the sound of breaking glass had disrupted the meeting.

Two minutes later, they’d learned that something far worse than drugs and gangs had invaded Rocky Point.

It was only due to sheer luck that the three of them had made it out of the conference room alive. The room had two sets of doors and the things had entered through the set nearest where Dawes traditionally sat - except he’d been standing next to Betty, reading a file over her shoulder. The other end of the long table, where Jack traditionally sat, just happened to be right by the second set of doors.

The moment Jack saw one of the intruders bite into Councilman

Gilbert’s throat, he’d run for the exit, Dawes and Betty a few steps behind him. The closest hiding place had been the Mayor’s office. They’d barricaded the door with Dawes’s heavy mahogany desk and then called the police station for help. No one had picked up. Jack had tried the Chief’s cell phone, had gotten only voice mail. Dawes had even tried calling the fire department and the morgue.

No one had answered.

It was then Jack realized they were well and truly fucked, that even he had underestimated the problem.

“We should see if they’re gone,” Dawes said for the dozenth time. “We haven’t heard anything in hours.”

Jack didn’t bother answering. He wished he had a gun to shoot the Mayor right in his brainless head. True, there hadn’t been noises for quite a while, but the ones they’d heard earlier - pounding, moaning, screaming - had been so awful he wasn’t sure he’d ever sleep again without nightmares.

What can be going on that the police don’t have time to rescue their own town leaders?
It had to be bad. Very bad. Which meant their best bet was staying right where they were.

“But what if—”

“Wait!” Betty Smyrna held up her hand, cutting off the Mayor’s question. “I hear something.”

Jack crossed the room, joining the other two near the door. Sure enough, there was a faint noise.
Thump. Thump.

Except it wasn’t in the hall. It was above them.

“Someone’s in the ceiling,” Jack whispered, motioning them to be quiet.

The others looked up at more thumping and scuffling from above the acoustic tiles. Jack backed away from underneath, then paused. Where could they go? Their best bet was to stay silent and hope the things kept moving.

A light fixture rattled and Betty let out a short cry. She covered her mouth but the damage was done.

Jack added her to his mental list of idiots to shoot.

“They know we’re here!” The Mayor stood up and grabbed one end of the desk and started pushing. Betty Smyrna did the same on the other end.

“No!” Jack cried, but it was too late. The door flew open so hard it knocked Dawes to the ground. The Medical Examiner and several of his staff stormed in, stinking like summer road kill, their faces the same marbled white as the corpses they worked on every day. Two more dropped from the ceiling in a snowstorm of broken tiles. One of them grabbed Betty Smyrna and tore into her with its mouth and nails, spraying blood in all directions.

Dawes screamed, his voice higher and louder than his secretary’s, as the monsters fell on him like hungry dogs.

Jack jumped onto the desk, intending to leap over Betty and her attackers and out the door. For one brief moment he actually thought it might work. Then Corish grabbed him in mid-air and slammed him to the floor so hard all the air left Jack’s lungs in a single breath.

Corish pinned him down. Through a haze of sparkling lights, Jack saw something long and dark reaching for him. Before he could react, a fat, icy python entered his throat, choking him. The colored lights grew brighter as he fought for oxygen.

A thousand voices spoke inside Jack’s head.

The thousand became one.

The Horde opened Jack’s mind and peeled away the layers as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. When it reached the memories of Marisol and Cory, it paused.

“Those. Them. They must be stopped.”

In his last moments as an independent living being, Jack smiled.

It will be my pleasure.

Then Jack Smith was washed away.

*  *  *

John grimaced and clenched his teeth as Marisol wrapped an Ace bandage around his midsection. She’d already re-dressed his wound with fresh gauze pads and several layers of cloth bandaging.

“That’s too tight,” John said.

“It needs to be tight,” Marisol countered, using strips of white medical tape to hold everything in place. “Otherwise it will come loose while you’re being an idiot.”

John made no comment about that, something Cory was grateful for. They’d already argued enough since arriving at Marisol’s house. Despite their protests, John insisted on accompanying them.

When they’d disagreed, saying his injuries would be a potential hindrance, he’d reminded them that Marisol was hurt too, and she was going.

In the end they’d given in. It was impossible to deny the fact that they needed him; the numbers were already stacked against them. Plus, it seemed important somehow that as many members of the Cemetery Club as possible should be there.

Superstition?
Cory wondered, as he made coffee and breakfast.
Or perhaps intuition?

But if that was the case, did it mean Todd’s absence would make their job that much harder?

Or even impossible?

Cory tried not to think too much about that possibility. Freddy Alou was on his way over. Maybe his presence would make up for Todd’s. The plan was for them to hit the zombies and Shades at their source - the burial ground under the old hospital.

The doorbell rang. “That’s Freddy,” Marisol said. “I’ll get it.”

A moment later she led Freddy to the kitchen table, just as Cory set down a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs and a plate of whole wheat toast.

“Eat up,” Cory said, after greeting Freddy. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Freddy accepted a cup of coffee and looked around the table. “I assume that means you’ve made up your minds.”

“Yes.” Marisol passed the eggs to him. “We talked it over and it seems that our best—”

“Only,” John interrupted.

“—chance,” Marisol continued, “is to find their daytime hiding place and kill as many of them as we can. Todd was able to take them on by himself the last time and it kept them under control until now.”

“If we can diminish their numbers enough,” Cory took up the explanation, “then we’ll have months or years to find a permanent solution. But at least the town will be safe in the meantime.”

“Maybe there’s a better way.” Freddy paused to swallow some food.

“Like what?”

“Bury the
diablos
under the ground for good.”

Cory nearly choked. “What? How?”

Freddy smiled. “I can get us enough explosives to bring the roof down on them. That should be safer than trying to fight them with squirt guns and baseball bats, eh
chica?
” He gave Marisol a nudge with his elbow.

“You can get explosives?” Cory asked.

“Yes. My cousin owns a small demolition company in Manhattan. Sometimes, we go into the woods and we blow something up. Great fun. Not too often. Explosives are controlled by the government and he has to account for them. But if a tiny bit goes missing, it’s usually not a problem.”