Evacuation (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

0554 hours

“It was this one, had to be this one.” Dave pointed at an apartment.

There were no zombies there, like last time, if it was the right one. Perhaps we’d just killed them all. Very likely. “Why didn’t he come out and fight with us?” I said.

Spade stared at the apartment. “We’ll go in and check it out. If he’s not there, the search is over. We’re done. We’re going back to the boat and leaving this shit stain harbor. Understood?”

No one argued.

Palmeri stayed behind me, I stood behind Dave, and Spade took point. He waved us on to follow.

Staying low, we crossed between apartments. We reached Marf’s and put our backs to the building. Spade held up a fist to tell us we were to wait.

My breath spewed out in visible vapor. My nose was cold, dirty and the tip was numb. I closed my eyes for a moment and sucked in a deep breath. I exhaled and looked to my left.

Crouched, Spade slid along the side of the apartment toward the door. He had his pistol in one hand, hunter’s knife in the other. He signaled with his head, so we advanced.

“Open the door on three,” he said.

Dave nodded. Hand on the knob.

It was a silent head-bob count. On the third one, Dave pulled open the door.

Spade didn’t move. Didn’t charge in, nothing.

We waited as seconds ticked by.

I counted them off with the speed of my heartbeat.

Four.
Five. Six.

“Marf?”
Spade said. It was the softest I’d heard him speak. “Marf?”

Nothing.

“Stay,” Spade said. He took a step up and into the apartment.

I looked right, left, right. It felt like we weren’t alone. We weren’t, just it seemed like things were all around us, closing in and encircling us. I didn’t like it.

Spade came back out and tucked the knife into the sheath on his hip. “He got out. No one is in there. Floorboards are torn up. He went out through there.”

I sighed. Good for Marfione. He’d made it out.

“So where is he?” Palmeri said. “Why didn’t he come to fight with us?”

“Might not have known,” Dave said.

That was shit. All the gunshots, Marf would have to be deaf to miss the battle that just finished. “That’s not it,” I said.

“We aren’t looking for him, we can’t,” Spade said.

I used my radio. “Marfione? Can you hear us, Marf? Over?”

“I said we’re not looking. We’ve been gone far too long as it is. We need to get back to the Coast Guard. Sun will be up soon.
Very soon. We can figure out what to do next then,” Spade said.

If Marf had answered, I would have disagreed, and gone looking for the soldier, but the radio remained silent.

Spade walked away, back from where we’d just come. “We’re going to stay between rows and head straight. Gate can’t be more than sixty, seventy yards ahead. We go slowly. We stay packed together. Palmeri, you are the eyes in the back of our head. Understood? Palmeri, do you understand?”

“Roger.”

“Okay. We’re mobile.”

We walked slowly and stayed close. My mind wandered far and fast.

# # #

It had been winter. Calls that were coming into 9-1-1 were few and far between. The fire section had wheeled six of the three-drawer cabinets to the center of the circular pod. Five sat around the makeshift table with poker chips sitting in stacks and piles in front of those playing.

DeJesus shuffled cards.

Milzy, one of first platoon supervisors and the small blind, tossed a chip to the center. “It’s hold  ‘em, right?”

DeJesus nodded. “Correct.”

LaForce attempted dancing a chip over knuckles. “They always make this look so easy.”

“They practice,” Milzy said.
“Nothing easy about it. It’s why they do it. Frustrates everyone who can’t. Rich guys like that probably spend hours in the bathroom mirror doing it over and over and over.”

The foghorn-like alarm indicating a new job had been entered activated, came from my terminal. There was a long line on the CAD screen. I read the job text. “HOUSE ON FIRE -- UNKN IF ANYONE INSIDE”

I entered the line of equipment and the set of their firehouse alarm tones. This way, lights and alarms would wake sleeping firemen. Then it would be followed it up with a long alert tone, called Boxing It Out. That way, firemen knew I wasn’t just sending them on an EMS run.

My headset was on and my foot depressed the pedal below my desk. I spoke slowly, and clearly.
“Telephone alarm report of a house on fire, possible people still inside. Going to be the vacant house across from--” I said, giving the address, the cross streets and named off the three closest engines and two trucks, as well as the rescue and battalion chief to respond.

More information popped up on my monitor.

“It’s a backup call, Chase. Fill it out,” Milzy said, standing by my shoulder.

I toned out the department, stepped on the pedal, and said, “Backup call for the report of a house fire--possible people trapped.” I sent the protectives, fire investigation and deputy chief to the location before the first unit was even on scene.

“Engine Five on scene, two and half story wood frame with flames from the roof. Give me a working fire and restricted alarm,” the officer on the engine said over the air.

My job was to parrot reports in case their radio signal was weak. Everyone would hear me fine. “Engine Five on scene of a two and a half wood frame with flames from the roof. Declaring a working fire restricted alarm. Deputy Chief, do you copy?”

“Deputy copies. I’m on scene. I’ll take command. Battalion chief has operations.”

“Showing the deputy chief on scene.
You have command. Battalion chief to have operations.” I typed while I spoke.

Job for me now was to stay out of their way. They had a fire to fight. If they needed more equipment, and police for traffic, they’d ask. I’d get it started their way.

“Command to dispatch?”

“Dispatch on, Command.”

“We’ve got heavy flames from the roof, A and B side. Give me a second alarm. Start police and two ALS ambulances. We believe we have three children inside.”

My stomach dropped. I balanced up the job as I spoke. “Command reporting heavy flames from the roof, A and B sides.
Giving you a second alarm. Starting police and two ALS ambulances. Possibly three children inside,” I said.

“I have your ambulances started,” LaForce said.

“Second alarm assignment?” Milzy said. He wasn’t asking. He wanted to make sure I had it ready to go. I looked at the flow. Command needed another two engines and a truck. I rattled off whom I knew to be next in. Milzy nodded, “Send ‘em.”

I sent them.

“It’s a listed vacant,” DeJesus said. “Talked to RG&E. No gas or electricity running.”

“Someone had a candle lit,” I mumbled.
Cold night like tonight? Probably several candles.

Radio squawked with life. It sounded like Darth Vader on the opposite end. It was the air tanks, the mask, their breaths, in and out. “Command, we’ve got two.
Two. Bringing them out now. Both breathing. Repeat both breathing.”

“Command to Dispatch.”

“Command, go ahead,” I said.

“Engine Five is extracting two patients from the vacant. Start a third ambulance as a stand-by.”

“Engine Five is extracting two patients from the vacant. Third ambulance for a standby, being started, sir” I said.

All I kept thinking about was the initial report. It had been for three people inside the house.
Three. Where was the third? Hiding under a bed? Inside a closet? Unconscious along a wall? In the bathroom?

“Truck Ten to dispatch. Truck Ten has a hole in the floor, second level -- just past the stairs. We are unable to get around it. We cannot complete a search.”

I hit an alert tone. “All city companies, Truck Ten reporting a hole in the floor on the second level. Unable to conduct a search. Command copy?”

“Command copies,” the deputy chief said. “Command to Truck Ten.”

“Truck Ten on for Command.”

“Truck Ten, patients are saying the third child was last seen in a crib in an upstairs bedroom to the left of the stairs.”

“Truck Ten copies. We’re attempting to make our way now to the bedroom.”

“Command copies.
Command to Rescue?”

“Rescue on, go ahead Command.”

“Your location, sir?”

“First floor, inside the structure.
We see the hole. It’s a big hole, Chief.”

“Command copies, Rescue.”

The poker game forgotten, Milzy worked on a portable dry erase board. It mapped out where all the engines and trucks were stationed in the city. Proactive. He knew that at any moment the phone would ring. The Deputy Chief would want to move companies around. Can’t leave parts of the city bare with so many pieces of equipment tied up on a house fire. He used a grease pencil to scratch off the units on scene and jot down on the right what equipment was left.

Police dispatchers got paid for what they did. They did it over and over every night, and the lot of them had to have carpal tunnel. Fire dispatchers were paid for what they know.

“Truck Ten to Command.”

“Command on, go ahead Truck Ten.”

There was a pause. We all waited. “Sir, we’ve got the third victim.”

There it was.

Victim.

Not patient.

I felt helpless. I knew the firemen did, too. At least they were there and active. I was sitting on the other side of the radio. My lip quivered some, so I pursed them tightly. I wasn’t going to get emotional. I managed to hold it in. There’d be time later, after my shift, on the drive home, but not now.

“You good, McKinney?”
Milzy clapped a hand onto my back. He knew. We all knew. A baby had just died in a fire.

“Oh, yeah.
All good,” I said.

He used his grease pencil on the board. Maybe he was keeping busy so he didn’t have to think about what just happened. I pulled up a map on one of the other terminals, plopped the address in and stared at the vacant house. It was daytime in Google. A street view. No fire trucks, no police cars, no ambulances, no fire, no dead baby.

#  #  #

“The gate.”
It was Dave.

We were at the back of the last apartment. Dave was right. The gate was dead ahead. “Where are the rest of the zombies?”

“I didn’t keep count, but if there were seventy or so, we must have killed most of them, right?” Dave said.

I doubted it, but I said, “Yeah. We must have.”

Without ammo, the rifle was merely a bat. I held it in both hands. When I looked back, I saw that Palmeri was doing the same.

“Don’t forget your knife,” she said.

I looked to my hip. “Never. You ready? We’re not out of the woods yet.”

She didn’t smile. “I’m ready.”

#  #  #

Spade ran, bent forward, staying low. Dave, me and then Palmeri followed. We must have looked like giant ducks.

We reached the fence. I heard it, though.

The growing growl of a zombie moan.
It came from behind us.

“Hurry,” Spade said.

He stood at the gate and waved us through. Only when I turned around did I see the fast zombies charging.

“Hurry, Palmeri,” I said. I don’t know if I shouted it. My head was off balance. I thought I might fall. Blood must have rushed to my head. Maybe from being bent over and running, or quite possibly just from being sick and tired of the constant fight during the last week or so.

She passed the gate, running hard, breathing heavily.

Spade rolled the gate closed. A zombie arm made it through. Spade did not hesitate. He slammed it between the fence poles, chopping off the protruding appendage just below the elbow. “Palmeri, hold the gate,” he said. “Hold the gate shut!”

She swapped spots with Spade. Did her best to keep the gate closed without having her fingers bitten. “Hurry,” she said.

Spade slipped off his belt, laced it through link on the gate, and then along the wall of the fence and buckled it.
Tight.

“Unless they can unfasten that, it should hold them,” he said.

Don’t know why, but I smiled. It was as if we made progress by outsmarting
them
. Kinda felt like outsmarting a dog--throwing an imaginary ball and they take off after it. I wasn’t going to let that spoil the feeling. No. I wanted to relish the small victory. We deserved that much, that little. Showed that as long as the fuckers didn’t bite us, we could win. Survive… perhaps.