Redemption of the Dead (28 page)

After
heading to the bathroom then tracking down Dean, who had finally
gone to bed after having probably been up all night, she hated to
wake him but gave him a nudge anyway.

“Hm? What?” he said, mouth
half-closed.

“It’s Tracy. I need you to wake
up.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it important?”

“Very.”

He blinked his eyes open, yawned. She
caught a whiff of stale coffee breath. It didn’t bother her as much
as it used to, not since living in a city with the unrelenting
stench of decay on the air.

She laid it out plain as day for him.
Dean simply sat on the edge of his bed, eyes to the floor,
listening. When she was done, he said, “You realize that guy’s
crazy, right?”

“Stop it.”

“He is.”

“No, he’s not. I’ve known him a long
time.”

“How long?”

“Long enough
to know he’s not nuts. Look, you have to trust me. I know it sounds
farfetched, but we also live in a world where the dead have come
back to life, and if you believe that, then you have to believe
what is clearly the cause of the madness. Don’t brush me off, Dean.
You’ve known me to be completely level-headed, dedicated, and
hardworking. Why would I come to you with a fairytale unless it’s
real?”

“You’re serious.”

“More than.”

“Then this is something that I have no
idea how to handle.”

“Few do.”

“Will our weapons work?”

“I don’t
know. They have, so far so unless something drastic changes, they
should still be effective.”

Dean sighed.

“We’re running out of
time.”

“I don’t think we should tell the
others,” he said.

“Because?”

“Because
either one of two things will happen: they’ll simply not believe
you and you’ll be a laughing stock, or they will and” —he lowered
his voice— “some of these guys are already on the edge of crazy. Do
you want to be the one to push them over?”

“Those who aren’t have a right to
know. Imagine if we’re out there fighting and suddenly these things
transform, then what?”

“Maybe
they’ll panic and attack out of survival instinct?”

“Or maybe they’ll curl up in a ball
and get slaughtered.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you a list of names of people
not
to tell. Everyone else, take aside privately, take Joe with
you just in case someone overreacts. Bring up to one more with
you—whoever of whom you tell, but only one—and use them as ‘helpful
reassurance’ or something as you break the news to people. If they
have questions, send them to me.”

“But you don’t have
answers.”

“Neither do
you, not completely, but we need to help each other out so I’ll
handle that side of it, or pretend to. It’s my duty, anyway.” He
yawned. “We’re doing this now?”

“There might not be a
later.”

* * * *

26

Leaving

B
illie sat in
the belly of a cargo aircraft, arms
crossed, knees drawn up, just waiting out the flight. Few personnel
were with her aside from the pilot and co-pilot. She was told to
remain in her seat at all times. She didn’t mind. She was dead dog
tired, but the extreme noise of the plane made it difficult to
sleep soundly. At best she’d been able to doze off and on since
they departed. She checked with a short guy who was writing
something down on a clipboard what time it was and he replied 4:42
in the morning, but didn’t make clear which time zone.

Not as bad as I thought. Been in the air for seven hours
already. Still a long way to go, though.
Nole had pulled some strings and got her onto the
cargo plane headed for Wales where they’d offload most of the cargo
and reloaded it with an array of weapons from the other underground
tech labs at the rendezvous point. Only cities with great
infestations
and
the giants were to receive the cargo,
the plan being to hit hard where the biggest threat was first and,
if successful, branch out and eradicate the easier
threats.

Sven and
Bastian were with her, Sven refusing to leave her side and Bastian
refusing to leave his. She thought it was sweet and was actually
looking forward to getting to know Sven better. Never thought she’d
be into a foreign guy, but here she was.

Billie eyed the bracelet. “Going to be home soon,” she
quietly said.
Home. Hope
Joe’s still alive.
Last she
saw him was when the biplane that rescued her and August flew away
without him.
She’d have to
tell him about August and assure him their friend and mentor didn’t
die in vain. Billie knew Joe’d feel guilty over it despite anything
she might say, but she had to tell him anyway.

When they
eventually landed back home, she didn’t know how she’d react or how
bad it might’ve gotten, but thankfully she had Sven and Bastian to
keep her company until things got sorted out. She did make one
definite decision though: once back, she would never leave the city
again.

* * * *

Tracy
looked wearied
when she came up to Joe and he was about to prescribe her a nap
when she said, “Well, I told people. Not everyone, but most. Some
thought I was crazy, others didn’t care—can you believe that?—and
others looked at me with such doughy-eyed wonder that I was the one
that felt like I was getting the weird news.”

“At least you told them.”

“That’s all I can do.”

“You look tired.”

“It’s not
that. Just worn out in general. Like waiting for summer vacation,
but when it comes, you got to figure out what to do with all that
time and you wish you could stay in school.”

“You wished that?”

“So I’m a bookworm. Sue
me.”

He smiled. “One of these days I’ll
track down copies of my comics or something and give them to you,
see what you think.”

“Might not be a good idea. I’m very
picky.”

“That’s fine. I’ve had my fair share
of bad reviews so I got a thick skin. Besides, after the past year,
everyone in the world could hate me and I’d be fine with
it.”

“Better not put me on that
list.”

“Naw, you’re
on a different one.”

“Which one?”

“Ask me when this is all
over.”

“
If
it ever is all over.”

We’ll see.

Someone screamed down the hallway; Joe
and Tracy immediately ran toward the sound.

A skinny
Asian girl stood by the main entrance, back to the door, her knees
bent and legs planted as if she was actually trying to hold it
up.

Another woman ran up to her. “What?
It’s okay. What happened?”

From the
other side of the door: “Hey, let me in!”

“Who is it?” the woman
said.

“It’s
Jerry,” the voice said. “Open the door! He’s going to bi—” Jerry’s
scream was hoarse.

The woman shoved the Asian girl out of
the way; Tracy caught her.

“What’s
going on?” Tracy asked.

The girl’s
tears ran into her mouth as she spoke through them. “We went out on
a quick scout of the perimeter. We were followed, couldn’t close
the entrance in time. I saw them grab him. He might be bit. Don’t
let him in.”

Jerry’s scream was louder and when Joe
looked up, the woman had the door open and Jerry’s body fell into
the room, a row of gutmunchers behind him, one of them attached to
his leg.

Joe whipped
out his gun and popped the creature in the head before taking the
lead and helping the woman pull Jerry in by his blood-soaked hands.
He fired off a couple more shots, dropping the nearest advancing
undead, then slammed the door, locked it.

“No one comes in or out, understand!”
he shouted.

A couple of
people nodded. Others were too wrapped up in the pandemonium to
hear him or care.

Back at
Jerry’s side, the heavyset man with the shaved head roiled in pain
on the ground, kicking both legs, the one with the bite spattering
blood on the wall.

“Hey . . .
hey!” the
woman said, Jerry’s head in her hands. “Wake up, Jer. Wake
up!”

Jerry’s eyes were half-
closed.

“He’s losing
a ton of blood.” Joe leaned closer to the wound and just as he got
a good look at the torn, blood-drenched flesh, a loud gunshot went
off and blood sprayed him. Shocked, he looked down the length of
Jerry’s body and saw his head had been blown open, bone and brain
all over the place. Just beyond the body was another of the men who
called the safe house home, a gun in his hands, smoke snaking out
of the barrel, body trembling.

The room went silent except for the
sound of undead hands pawing against the other side of the
door.

Tracy
snapped the gun out of the man’s hands; he grabbed her and Joe
immediately lunged over Jerry’s body toward them. Tracy hooked the
guy in the head. He teetered and she came in again from the other
side, dropping him.

Joe jumped on top of him, wrestled him
over, and held his hands behind his back. “What’s the matter with
you? That guy could’ve survived!”

“Not after being bit,” the man
shouted. “I just saved us all.”

“You don’t know that. We could’ve
saved him.”

“You owe me.
You all owe me!”

Joe shoved
his forearm against the base of the guy’s neck, keeping the man’s
head down and hopefully his mouth shut. The man started wailing and
bawling into the floor.

To the side,
Tracy ensured the Asian girl was in the proper care, while everyone
else gave Jerry’s body some room, even the woman who had tried to
bring him around. Joe simply laid his weight into the guy who
killed Jerry and kept him down. Once the man began to settle, he
was passed off to Rob and Hal.

Getting up, Joe asked Tracy, “What’re
they going to do with him?”

“I don’t
know. This kind of thing happens once in a while and they’re each
dealt with case-by-case. Odds are they’re going to take him
somewhere where he can’t hurt anyone else, get him to calm right
down and, maybe, work it out.”

“They can’t take him out of here. You
saw the creatures.”

“No, they’ll find a spot
here.”

The zombies
still beat on the door. The safe house was compromised.

“Jerry’s an idiot,” Tracy
said.

“He’s dead, show some
respect.”

“I
am.
I know he’s dead, but he’s an idiot
for letting them follow him. He would’ve known the protocol. Even
getting in here is
not
easy. Either he panicked or something
worse happened and he did the best he could. Probably a bit of
both.”

“Still not an idiot.”

“I’d call
you the same if you led a horde of them in here.”

“You can call me what you want, but,
man, that guy’s dead. Slow it down.”

She looked away.

What’s her problem? Maybe she is worn out, like she said.
Patience is at an end.
“Look,
everyone’s already getting together. It’s time to come up with a
plan, and fast.”

* * * *

27

On the Street

J
oe and Tracy
moved through the back corridor of
the safe house, taking up the lead with Dean. Behind them were the
two trainers, the guy who shot Jerry in between them, followed by
everyone else. Fully-armed with flashlights lit, the group
negotiated the corridor, which was about thirty meters long, until
they emerged from another door that led into a small alcove beneath
one more pile of rubble.

“That big one, there,” Dean said,
pointing at a slab of concrete about three feet by four.

“Right,” Joe
said, and the two men went and pushed against it. The big slab of
concrete fell forward and slid slightly down a small hill of more
rubble, a crashed car, and the remainder of a bus bench with a
broken realtor’s ad.

After
checking the coast was clear, Joe and Dean hopped out. Dean drew
his glock and kept watch while Joe helped the others through the
hole.

“Okay, where to?” Joe asked, trying to
ignore the groans of the gathered dead not far from where they
stood.

“I’m
thinking Cityplace would be our best bet. It’s underground,” Dean
said.

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it.
The buildings above are some of the few that haven’t yet been
demolished, but we could get in there and, provided the rotter
population is minimal, we could clear it out and lock it
up.”