City of the Dead (27 page)

A rumble of concern rippled through the crowd.

"At approximately 0100 hours-"

"Wait a minute," Etta interrupted. "Aren't we forgetting something?"

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Bates paused, and bowed his head.

"Of course," he apologized. "Thank you, Etta. Forrest, will you lead us?"

The crowd rose to their feet and a hush fell over them. Forrest stepped to the podium and sang the first line of the National Anthem.

"Oh, say can you see ..."

Don stared in amazement. Forrest sounded like an angel. It was like Marvin Gaye had been reincarnated in the body of this hulking soldier. Goose bumps broke out along Don's arms as he joined in. The crowd's voices swelled as one, buffeting against him like waves. Many people were holding hands and many more were crying.

When it ended, Forrest launched right into another song, one that Don didn't recognize.

"In times of wounded hearts, when souls are torn apart..."

Next to him, Smokey, Etta and Leroy sang along. Don listened to the words.

"We need to let them heal, and time it will reveal. For all the things that we believe in-freedom in our time, for all the people in the world. I know that we will rise."

Don shivered.

"I know that we will rise ..."

When the song was over, Don leaned over to Smokey and whispered, "What was that?"

"It's a song called 'Our Dream,' by a musician named Fiz."

"The pop star? He was from New York, right?"

"Yeah. He wrote it about the first terrorist attack on the city, but now we've adopted it."

"What happened to him? He was huge!"

Smokey shrugged. "Probably got eaten-or ate somebody else."

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"Thank you all, again," Bates said.

The crowd returned to their seats, quieting down once more, with the exception of some sniffling and one woman's sobs.

"At approximately 0100 hours, our communications center detected a large, mobile zombie force. We determined that they were heading here, to Ramsey Towers."

Shocked gasps, and even a muffled scream, met this statement.

"They are heavily armed. We've verified both through continued monitoring and through visual confirmation that they are now within the city limits. Their intent is to launch an assault on this building. We must assume that this attack could come at any moment, so I'll be brief."

"What are we so concerned about?" a man yelled from the back. "This building is supposed to be able to withstand anything."

There were shouts of agreement. Bates cleared his throat and the room got quiet again.

"Indeed, Mr. Ramsey has repeatedly assured us that this building could withstand any attack. However, he designed it with terrorism and natural disasters in mind. It is my opinion, and the opinion of others in our command structure, that it will not hold up to the sheer amount of firepower we expect to be launched at us."

"They've attacked us before," another man hollered. "What makes it different this time?"

"This is a full-scale military attack. They didn't have tanks and artillery before, and they didn't have a leader."

Don thought about something that Jim had mentioned to him; that there had been a zombie named Ob who led the others. But Bates couldn't be talking about the same creature, could he?

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"His name is Ob," Bates continued, "and though we don't know much about him yet, it's clear that he seeks our destruction. So we must fight. Every able-bodied man and woman will be given a weapon immediately after we adjourn. You will join those already on sentry duty. This is not open for debate. I expect each and every one of you to defend yourselves and your fellow man- because we cannot do it for you. Forrest will be in charge of the lower floors and I will be in command of the upper stories of the building. If you refuse to help protect this building, you will be put out onto the streets."

An old man rose to his feet. "You can't do that!"

"Try me. I'm not playing around here, people."

"What about Mr. Ramsey?" a woman called out. "Why isn't he in charge?"

Dr. Stern stepped forward and took the microphone. "Mr. Ramsey is ill and unable to assume command. It's not life-threatening. But he gave express orders that Mr. Bates was to lead this battle."

Bates shouted down another question. "We must prepare immediately. None of us could have ever conceived what has happened to our world. It's like something out of a horror movie. But it's real, and it's coming for us all. There's no more time for debate."

He paused, gripping the podium. When he spoke again, his voice cracked.

"I know that it looks hopeless. Believe me. We ask ourselves, late at night, what the point of all this is. For all we know, we might be the last people left alive in the world. Those things are everywhere, and there are more every day. All they have to do is wait for us to die. So why bother?"

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Some murmured ascension and nodding heads greeted his question. Bates continued.

"Because this is our last stand. Think about everything humanity has accomplished throughout history. Do we really want it all to mean nothing in the end? Should our achievements be worthless-appreciated and enjoyed only by those things outside? We stand at the brink of total extinction, but I will not go without a fight."

Scattered applause broke out amongst the crowd, but many more people remained quiet, still unsure.

"Maybe you're thinking this sounds hokey or stilted. You're probably right. I'm not a public speaker. I'm a warrior. I don't have a lot of oratory skill, and it's not easy for me to inspire people through speech. Believe me, I've been in situations where I've had men looking at me for inspiration. I gave it to them through leadership. I inspired by example. Hopefully, I can do that for you too. But let me tell you of another example. A few days ago, our scouts brought in a father and his son."

Don sat up straight, listening.

"The father, Jim Thurmond, traveled from the mountains of West Virginia all the way up the coast to New Jersey. He and his companions faced unimaginable horrors with every step of his journey-things that we haven't even considered, clustered away here in our stronghold. Mr. Thurmond did this for one reason and one reason only. The love he had for his son. That's what powered him, what kept him going.

"I ask you to look around. Is there someone here whom you love? Will you lay down your life so that they have a chance to continue to live? Perhaps your loved ones aren't here. Maybe they're outside, their bodies corrupted by those things. Maybe our enemies have turned

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the one you love into a perverse mockery of who they were before. How many of you saw your loved ones turn into a zombie? Don't you want an opportunity to set things right? This may be the last chance any of us will get. It's us versus them. I say we reintroduce these things to death. Show them what it really means to die. Show them just what humanity is capable of when its back is against the wall! Will you fight?"

Thunderous applause filled the auditorium. The crowd rose to their feet, cheering wildly. Bates held his fist in the air and pumped it a few times, eliciting more shouts.

"Report to the armory," he shouted. "Each of you will be assigned a weapon and get a crash course in how to use it. From there, you'll be directed to where we need you. Let's show them that we are not afraid to die, that we reject their promise of what comes after death. Let's show them that we will not go quietly! Let's reclaim our bodies-and our lives!"

Bates strode off the stage. Forrest and Stern followed him. All three were already talking into their radios.

"Well," Leroy quipped, "I guess it wasn't a drill after all."

As they filed out, Don's legs felt numb, as if they'd fallen asleep. Fear gripped him, but at the same time, he felt determined-and proud. He wondered again what had happened to Jim and Danny, and how Frankie was- if she was aware of what was going on. Then he fell in with the crowd and was swept away.

DiMassi's pistol was tucked in the waist of Ramsey's tailored slacks. Ramsey clutched his own pistol in a liver-spotted hand, pointing it directly at DiMassi's chest.

"I assure you, Mr. DiMassi, that I am not crazy. I'm just trying to save us."

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"Begging your pardon, sir, but then why do you have that gun pointed at me?"

"Bates is drunk on power," Ramsey said, his voice calm and assured. "He's attempting a coup, and he's involved Dr. Stern and Forrest as well. Think about it, Dimassi. We are about to come under attack. Does this seem like the most opportune time to arrest me?"

DiMassi agreed that it seemed odd.

"They've killed Dr. Maynard and poor Kilker, because both of them tried to warn me of their plans."

"But are we really going to be attacked, sir?"

"Look out the window," Ramsey told him. "Go ahead. Look and see for yourself."

DiMassi pressed his face against the glass and looked down upon the city. The streets were blazed with thousands of pinpoints of light. Ant-sized vehicles and miniscule zombies surrounded the building, and more were on the way. Barricades had been constructed, sealing off the block. As he watched, the creatures began to set the neighboring buildings on fire.

"Holy shit," DiMassi breathed. "There must be thousands of them!"

"Indeed," Ramsey nodded. "Now do you see? Bates is out of control, and you've been tricked into following along with him."

"Okay," DiMassi nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding far below. "I believe you. Hell, I always did. Used to watch you on TV, had stock in your company."

Ramsey smiled, and lowered his gun.

"The question," DiMassi continued, "is what are we going to do about it?"

"We must flee," Ramsey said. "We can't remain here any longer."

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"But, I thought the building could-"

"This tower can take anything those creatures throw at it. But that is not my concern. There is simply no way Bates will let either of us live now. He's absolutely mad. He may very well be in league with the zombies. It pains me to say this, but our only chance for survival-indeed, humanity's only chance, is to flee immediately."

"But to where? Quinn and I have been all over. The fucking zombies are everywhere."

"Leave that to me."

"We should stop off and grab one of those M-60's. Happiness is a belt-fed weapon, after all. If we're going on foot, we'll need a lot more firepower."

"We're not traveling by foot. There was a subway tunnel under construction beneath this building, but sadly, it was never completed. And obviously, we can't go out into the streets."

"The helicopter?" DiMassi looked up, as if he could see it through the ceiling.

"The helicopter. How far can it fly?"

"Depends on how much fuel is in it. Quinn and the Canuck were the last ones to take it out. I don't know if they refueled."

"Could we make it as far as the Haverstraw marina?"

"Up near Brackard's Point? Sure-even on fumes. But the airstrip in Brackard's Point is overrun."

"But you could land us near the marina, yes?"

"Yeah. Not much there. Blue-collar folks' boats, mostly."

"You'd be surprised." Ramsey winked. "I keep one there myself, away from the media's prying eyes."

"Why not just steal a boat here in the city? Maybe one of those armored Harbor Patrol boats or something?"

"You've seen the situation below. Do you really think

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our enemies wouldn't have anticipated that, and taken the appropriate counter-measures?"

"I guess not."

"You will fly us to Haverstraw, and from there, we shall begin the second leg of our journey."

"We gonna go to an island?"

"Something like that." Ramsey's smile faded. "I have many strongholds. One is directly beneath this building, far below the tunnels and sewers and pipes and layers of fiber optic cables. But I fear we'd never reach it, especially not as a group."

"A group?" DiMassi glanced around, verifying that it was just the two of them.

"We'll need others, of course. A woman, at the very least, for breeding. Two of them, if possible. We have to keep the human race alive."

DiMassi nodded in agreement, half listening. He watched the burning buildings below, watched the zombies as they swarmed around the skyscraper. His mind was still on the boat, wondering how dangerous a journey on the open water would be. Then he looked back outside and decided it couldn't be as perilous as staying here.

"A woman would be good," he said.

"Perhaps the young woman under Dr. Stern's care?" Ramsey suggested. "She is strong and beautiful-fierce. She was brought in two days ago."

"Sure. Haven't seen her myself, since I was quarantined, but I'll take your word for it."

A red light pierced the darkness outside the window. Both men turned.

"They're shooting flares," DiMassi gasped. "What the hell are they up to?"

"A signal of some kind, I should imagine. Perhaps we'd best be going. I think our time grows short."

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"Maybe we should just forget the broad," DiMassi said. "Get the hell out now."

"Nonsense. It has fallen to us to save the human race. How are we to do that if we can't procreate?"

The pilot shrugged and retrieved his pistol from the desk.

"Go into the hall and see if the coast is clear," Ramsey commanded.

DiMassi peeked outside. There was no sign of Quinn or the others.

"We're good," he said.

"Excellent. Let us proceed."

The two men hurried for the elevators.

The wailing siren echoed inside Frankie's head even after it stopped.

"H-hello?" Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her voice rasped as she tried again. Her head throbbed.

"Is anybody there?"

There was no response. The equipment around her bed beeped and hummed in the silence. The room smelled of antiseptic.

"Anyone?"

When her queries went unanswered, she sat up and took several deep breaths, slowly regaining her strength. The weakness in her limbs melted away after a few minutes. Other than the headache, thirst, and an insistent urge to pee, she felt fine. Better than she had since kicking heroin. Her stitches itched, but the flesh around them was a healthy pink, rather than the vicious red of the day before.