Fear of the Dead (20 page)

A large, white pipeline scaled from the base of the building up to the nightclub’s rooftop. The pipeline lay just within inches of his reach. If he could climb the ledge onto the pipe and then up the roof, he had no doubts that he’d be able to make his way back inside.

As Eli contemplated what he was about to do, risking his life on the possibility that he wouldn’t end up falling on top of a horde of zombies, he took the time to reflect on whether or not he would simply have been better off waiting for Atton to open the door.

It was a short deliberation however. Just yesterday he had a gun trained to his face, ready to blow his head clean off. With the way that his skin looked now, any hope for acceptance would have been far-removed from Atton’s mind.

Once more it occurred to Eli that things between him and his partner weren’t ever going to be the same again. The brief friendship they’d started in prison was quickly coming to its end. He knew that if the infection didn’t end his life, then Atton surely would.

It was fair to say that from this point on, they were as good as enemies.

Eli’s arms were weak, but with enough accrued strength and willpower, he was able to climb the pipeline up the roof, suffering no more than sore muscles along the way. Luckily the distance wasn’t far. Since there wasn’t a third floor, all he had to do was raise himself one level above.

By the time he started his climbed up the rooftop of club
Llegada
, it was no surprise that the ground floor was littered with zombies. They lined themselves around the walls of the predominantly red building, moaning and mindlessly circling the outside perimeter. They were trying to find their way up to the human survivors. Of that he had no doubt. He’d seen and killed enough of them that he knew how they thought. And like any hunter worth his salt, Eli Desmond had gotten used to being able to put himself in their shoes, to see things from their instinctual perspective.

As soon as he landed on the ledge, Eli lied down for a moment to catch his breath. The infection was turning his system against him, making him weaker. Nonetheless he battled against the symptoms, and forced himself up.

Apparently the club wasn’t half as podunk as he’d expected. Because not more than a few feet from where he lay was an outdoor bar with chairs, tables, and decorative lights. He got up and scoured the bar for a bottle of Jack Daniels. As it turned out, there was nearly an entire cupboard’s worth.

“
Hot damn.”

He dunk a shot’s worth in his mouth, then squirmed in pain as the alcohol burned his throat. The drink was more fire than he could bear, and it only worsened the further down his system it went.

Angry, Eli hurled the bottle past the roof, where eventually he heard the glass break on the street. The zombies below groused at the noise. Eli was amused.

“
Fuckin’ asswipe retards.”

He spat, and watched his phlegm fall on the head of a zombie. An old forty-something whose face reminded him of George Clooney. The zombie felt the drop of liquid touch his hair. He looked up, saw Eli, then groaned in what appeared to be a show of immense anger.

Eli couldn’t stop the laughter.

“
You like that? You want more?”

He snorted and spat downwards with aim. It missed, but Eli laughed nonetheless. And that brought to mind another idea.

He inched himself onto the ledge and unzipped his pants. He waited until the first zombie shambled up close enough below, and then he let himself go. Five or six zombies crowded together, staring mysteriously at the yellow urine landing atop their clothes. On their faces. On their hair.

Eli’s cheeks strained with uncontainable humor, and he felt alive once more.

He celebrated the occasion with a full bottle of vodka. But rather than take a single sip for himself, he poured the content over his infected kin, spreading the spill to reach as many zombies as he could. Soon, Eli brought back three and then four more bottles, and proceeded to soak the zombies with alcohol. When each bottle was empty, he hurled it downwards, cracking the bottle on whatever head got in its way. A woman staggered back when the last bottle hit her head. It broke, and her head began to bleed.

The image stayed with Eli long after he stopped laughing.

He retrieved a match box on the bar counter with the club’s logo emblazoned on the front. Eli struck them all in one zip before tossing them down to his flammable audience. When the fire landed, a few of the zombies burned, lighting the dull grey morning in a fiery orange tint, and bringing a smile to Eli’s lips.

A door behind him opened. Eli turned to see who it was.

“
Ellen?”

The girl leapt at the sight of his face. Her jaw hung wide and hysterical.

Eli remained calm and playful.

“
What’s the matter girl? Don’t you miss me?”

Ellen was beautiful. Even in fear she was beautiful. The way that her long, smooth legs trembled in the cold, and how she cowered in fear before his very eyes, like she needed protecting. Like she needed a man.

Ellen hesitated before reaching for the door behind her. As she fished desperately for the knob behind her back, she was too afraid to take her eyes off of Eli.

“
Where you goin’ girl?”

After a long search, Ellen’s hands found the knob, but before she could leave Eli grabbed her by the arm.

“
C’mon Ellen. Party’s just startin.’ Wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

If she’d had the ability to speak, Eli imagined she would have said a lot of things. But as things were, she didn’t utter a word.

“
Don’t you be worryin’ none. I’m still as much me as I’m ever goin’ to be. There ain’t no need to be afraid.”

She was still scared out of her mind, but she didn’t resist. She eventually let go of the door, and allowed Eli to take her up to the ledge directly overlooking the audience of burning zombies below.

“
Now that’s some cool shit right there don’t you think?”

Ellen convulsed with shock.

“
I gotta say, this mornin’s been the best mornin’ I ever had. Don’t you feel it? The energy? The life? I swear, I ain’t got the first notion a’ how to describe it. But everythin’ just seems perfect, you know?”

Eli looked down at Ellen. Ellen didn’t look back. He took her chin in his hand.

“
O’ course, things can always get better.”

With his free hand, Eli caressed Ellen’s young, nubile legs, moving his hand down to her knees, and then up.

She flinched with his touch.

“
It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I got ya.”

He moved to meet his lips with hers. She turned at the last second, leaving Eli’s kisses to land on her cheek.

Eli enjoyed the resistance. He enjoyed the hesitation. He enjoyed the fight.

While she began to struggle away from him, he began kissing her neck, working his lips down her body while his right hand rose up her soft leg. But as he was kissing her, Eli felt yet another knot on his stomach. This more painful than all the others before. Stimulus reaction brought his hand to hold on to his gut whilst his body sunk.

Panicked, Ellen tried to maneuver herself away from his hold. But Eli held on, grabbing her by the wrist and strengthening his hold.

“
It’s okay,” he told her, his voice still working its way around the affliction. “I’m fine. There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

But Ellen pushed herself even harder away. She resisted as Eli struggled to tug her closer, fighting control of her wrist along with the rest of her body. And just then he felt a sting in his heart, forcing him to let go of the girl. Only at the same time, Ellen pulled herself away with more might than she’d ever needed to break free. Momentum sent her up against the ledge, and a trip on her right ankle caused her to completely lose control.

Ellen lost her foothold, and she fell.

“
No,” he called, and as fast as he could he reached for her hand.

But it was too late. Ellen fell two floors down, headfirst, and smacked it against the concrete pavement below. She died upon impact, making no effort to move as the zombies descended.

“
No. No no no no no. No fuck.”

Tears streamed from his eyes, and all the pain he felt coursing throughout his body was nothing compared to the guilt tearing inside him. He screamed at the top of his lungs, and his eyes continued to blur. First with tears. Then, with something else. Something dark, and red.

It never occurred to him that he’d ever lost control of his own body. It simply happened, without his being able to process or even understand the information. Eli’s hands, feet, legs, and eyes, all moved against his command.

He spun around, driven by an instinct that wasn’t his own. He saw a bald black man whose face looked strangely familiar. He was crying, just like Eli Desmond.

Eli stepped closer to have a better look. Explosion erupted, and all he could see was darkness.

Atton Stone

Chapter Twelve

Day 5

Transcripts of Dr. Nelson Shore

Inmate Identification Number: 6011512

Patient Name: Atton Stone

Date: October 5,
2002

Disclaimer: Data Collected Under Jurisdiction Of SFPD, For Purposes Of The LTMU Gang Rehabilitation Program. Information is for research purposes only, and is not to be distributed without permission.

Recorded Session: 1

Dr. Shore:
Good morning Atton.

Atton:
Good morning doctor.

Dr. Shore:
Allow me to start by expressing how proud I am that you have decided to join our program.

Atton:
You’re welcome. And thank you.

Dr. Shore:
You are welcome. Now Atton, before we begin, do you know why exactly you are here today? That is, to what precise purpose?

Atton:
Yes sir I do.

Dr. Shore:
Would you care to explain?

Atton:
I am here because of the mistakes I made 21 years ago.

Dr. Shore:
Yes, but actually I was referring to the program.

Atton:
Of course. I am here to offer my life experiences here in Wyden Hall, to redeem myself to my community. I am here to show that I am a different person now than I was when I came in, and that I’ve since been willing to change myself for the better. Also, in addition I was hoping to be transferred to a lower security prison.

Dr. Shore:
Perfect. And I have every confidence in the world that you will get exactly that. You’ve been doing quite well here at Wyden Hall. The warden speaks well of you. And I also see that you have been volunteering a lot of your time at the library.

Atton:
I try my best to make a good impression.

Dr. Shore:
That is good. Because this program will require you to show that you are committed to rehabilitation. What we accomplish together in the next six months ahead will determine whether or not you are eligible to preside at a minimum security facility. Having said that, I’d like you to think of the next six months we have together as an opportunity. It is after all, a chance that not many inmates get.

Atton:
Yes doctor. Thank you for the chance. I promise I will do whatever it takes.

Dr. Shore:
Good. Now, before we get any further into specifics, I’d like to give you a diary.

Atton:
A diary?

Dr. Shore:
Yes. For recording your thoughts. You will share them with me at the end of each week, and together we will discuss whatever matters come to mind.
Atton:
How much should I write?

Dr. Shore:
You write as much you feel like writing of course. But umm, it would be best if you had five entries ready for next week.

Atton:
Five?

Dr. Shore:
Yes. But certainly, don’t restrain yourself. There are no limits in place here. You should feel free to write in as much as you possibly can.

Atton:
I will.

Dr. Shore:
Excellent. I just know that our program will work wonders for you Atton. Stick with it, and eventually you will become an influence for the rest of the inmates here at Wyden Hall.

Atton:
I will try my best. I only hope that I don’t disappoint.

Dr. Shore:
Aah don’t you fret. With my help and your ambition, there’s no doubt that our time together will prove to be an unmitigated success.

Thursday