The Dishonored Dead (32 page)

One second passed, two seconds, and Conrad opened his eyes. He looked down at himself, saw he still had his legs, his arms, everything.

“You okay?” he asked.

Thomas, his eyes now closed, only coughed.

Conrad glanced back at the intersection they’d just shot through, at the dozen car pileup, smoke coming from one car, another with its entire hood smashed in. He barely had time to think and worry about its passengers when he noticed the black Humvee farther down the street, the two Hunters already back inside, the truck moving out of the way so the two police cars could get past.

The phone rang again as he started the car, shoved it back into drive, and peeled out.

Conrad said, “Are you okay?”

Thomas opened his eyes slowly, peeked out at him. He was holding his stomach and Conrad wondered if maybe the seatbelt had bitten too far into his body.

“Answer that, please.” Motioning at the phone that had landed somewhere on the floor during the collision.

Thomas reached down, felt around until he came back up with the phone. It was already on its fifth ring and he didn’t look like he was going to answer it as he stared at Conrad.

“The man I talked to before—he’s a zombie, isn’t he?”

From the way the car handled now Conrad could tell the collision had screwed up the alignment, but so far everything else seemed fine. He pressed the gas pedal to the floor, taking them up to sixty, seventy, almost eighty miles an hour, swerving in and out of the two-lane traffic.

Conrad stuck out his hand. “Let me have it.”

Thomas handed him the phone.

When Conrad answered it, Gabriel said, “Where are you now?”

“About two miles from the Shakespeare. Where are you?”

“We’re on the Shakespeare, headed your way. Have the police reached you yet?”

Conrad glanced at the rearview, saw the two cars back there about three hundred yards away with their flashing lights, the black Humvee behind them. “You could say that.”

“How many?”

“Right now only three.”

“Good. For the time being it’s going to stay that way. Eric has hacked into the city’s radio dispatch. He’s announced a dozen zombie sightings throughout the city, so that should keep the Hunters busy. As for the police, he’s frozen up their radio communications.”

At the approaching intersection the light was gray and Conrad pressed his foot down even harder on the pedal, shooting them through just as it turned black.

He said, “Which means what, exactly?”

“Which means for the time being you only have those three cars to worry about.”

“And what about when more show up?”

“Let’s hope you lose them before then. Now, are you at the Shakespeare yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good. Take the southbound ramp when you do. We’ll lead them away from Olympus.”

Conrad closed the phone, tossed it to Thomas. His neighbor said, “So what are we doing?” but Conrad ignored him, glanced again at the rearview. The three of them were still back there, closing in. The expressway was fast approaching, the southbound onramp three hundred yards away, and Conrad debated his options, maybe slowing down, letting them catch up, make them think he was going to go straight and then make the turn at the last second.

But no, that wouldn’t work, because the turn was coming up right now. He was forced to slow down because of some jerkoff in front of him, taking the ramp slow. As he swerved around the car, he asked Thomas when was the last time he’d fired a gun.
 

Thomas said, “What?”

On the expressway now, the traffic heading south wasn’t as heavy and he had more room to maneuver. He pulled the pistol from his pocket which had been digging into his hip this entire time. His knee on the wheel to keep them going straight, he popped the clip out, saw he only had ten rounds left, slapped it back in and racked the slide.
 

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked Thomas.

“I never shot a gun once in my existence.”

Conrad glanced at the rearview again, saw the flashing lights of the two police cars just coming off the ramp. He let up off the gas.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting them catch up.”

“But why?”

Conrad didn’t answer. The cops took no time catching up. Within seconds they were closer and closer, the rest of the traffic moving out of their way, until the first cruiser was right behind them.

“Hold tight,” Conrad said, and slammed on the brakes.

The trailing cruiser smacked right into them. It was already doing over sixty and when it collided with them its driver jerked the wheel, sending the car into a tailspin, moving off toward the median where it was sideswiped by a minivan.

Conrad pressed back down on the gas. In the rearview he saw the second cruiser coming on strong, the black Humvee one lane over and a few car lengths back.

The mobile phone rang.

Conrad held out his hand, Thomas gave him the phone, and he answered, “Yeah?”

“We’re close,” Gabriel said. “Do you see us?”

He swerved from one lane to the next, and when he glanced at the rearview he only saw the vehicles he’d just passed and the trailing cruiser. “No, where are you?”

“We’re right behind the Hunters.”

The far left lane was clear and he stayed in it a moment, looking back over his shoulder this time to see past the cruiser, past the Humvee, to the sedan he’d driven this morning. He could just make out Eric in the driver’s seat, keeping up with the Humvee, before he turned his attention back to the expressway.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We still have one of the explosives. James is going to try to take the Humvee out. Do you think you can handle the cruiser?”

“Yeah,” Conrad said. He tossed Thomas the phone, said, “Keep him on the line,” and keeping his left hand on the wheel, grabbed the pistol with his right.

He heard Thomas say hello, then say his name, then say, “I’m … Conrad’s neighbor.” Beyond that Conrad didn’t hear anything else, because already he was swerving through traffic to get over into the far right lane; he was lowering his window and letting in a large roar of wind. He let back up off the gas, giving the cruiser the chance to catch up, and when it was close enough he slowed down even more so that they were parallel and stuck the pistol out, started firing.

The cruiser pulled away and dropped back. By then Conrad had gone through all ten rounds and, wishing he had another clip, tossed the spent pistol in the backseat.

He said, “Did I hit anything?” but before Thomas could answer, the driver’s side rear window shattered.

Both hands on the wheel now, he slammed on the brake and the cruiser on his left shot forward, the cop hanging out the passenger-side window with a rifle. Conrad glanced briefly at the rearview, saw the cars around him, saw the sedan and the Humvee farther back, gunfire coming from both of them, and then he gritted his teeth and pressed back down on the gas.

The cruiser was dropping back, the cop hanging from the window trying to get a good shot, and Conrad swerved the car over to hit the cruiser from behind. The cruiser’s taillights flared, it accelerated and switched lanes, and Conrad followed it, nosing up right on its tail.

Thomas shouted over the wind, “They’re taking on gunfire.”

“Is anyone hit?”

Thomas repeated the question into the phone, but before he could get an answer Conrad moved up on the left side of the cruiser. He could see the cop with the rifle crawling over the front seat and into the back, the driver already powering down the rear window. The speedometer was at sixty-seven and Conrad punched the gas a little more, bringing the car’s nose up right by the bumper. He kept it there for a few seconds, waiting for the cop to make it over the front seat, and then he jerked the wheel to the right, pushing straight into the rear end of the cruiser, not letting up at all on the gas, the cruiser’s driver helpless as he tried to pull away.

A moment passed, another, and before Conrad knew it the cruiser was being pushed around, much the same way as the first cruiser, only instead of starting into a tailspin its wheels were turned just so that the car flipped over onto its side.

At the same moment an explosion bloomed in the rearview, a sudden flash of white. Conrad glanced back to see the Humvee engulfed in flames, headed toward the median.

Crouched low in the passenger seat, the phone to his ear, Thomas said, “Eric.”

“What?”

“This … this zombie, he’s saying Eric, again and again. He’s”—Thomas swallowed, glanced at Conrad—“he says he’s been shot.”

The second cruiser flipped, the Humvee in flames, Conrad had already let up on the gas. They were doing fifty-five, fifty, forty-five, the needle dipping lower and lower. At the moment this stretch of the expressway was deserted except for them, those motorists headed south having either gotten off at various exits or pulled over and stopped altogether. He looked over his shoulder and saw the sedan, noticed some bullet holes in the hood and windshield, the sedan dropping back and moving slowly toward the side of the expressway.

Conrad brought the car to a sudden halt, shoved it into reverse, and drove backward in that direction.

The sedan had not stopped right on the berm but had continued down the grassy embankment. Now stopped in front of some bushes, the doors opened and James and Gabriel piled out.

Conrad parked the car, tore off his seatbelt, and jumped outside. He scrambled down the embankment to the car, saw it had gotten much more beat up than he’d first thought.

There was blood on Gabriel’s face, on his hands. There were tears in his eyes as he sobbed, “Eric, Eric, Eric,” over and over.

His face set, his eyes dark, the assault rifle gripped in his right hand, James hurried past him up the embankment without even a word. Conrad started toward the door to see what had become of Eric, but then had to rush forward to catch Gabriel when the zombie fell to his knees.

Gunfire sounded out suddenly over the embankment, a hesitant scattering of shots as James finished off the remaining Hunters. Silence followed a moment later and then the zombie appeared, the rifle now strapped over his shoulder, coming toward the car. He moved to the driver’s door and opened it. Conrad moved away from Gabriel to meet him there and waited until James had unbuckled the young zombie, then reached under Eric’s arms and began to pull him out.

Conrad stepped forward, meaning to help, but James shot him a glare. Conrad raised his hands and stepped back.

Gabriel, still sobbing Eric’s name, crawled toward them and stopped beside the young zombie’s body. Eric had been shot in the head and blood was running down his face, soaking into his shirt. James set him down in the grass and stood back, placed his hands on his hips, looking down at Eric, while Gabriel took Eric’s left hand and held it to his chest, rocked back and forth.

Staring down at the now dead zombie, at all the running blood, Conrad said, “We have to go.”

James crossed his arms, continued to glare back at him.

“More of them will be coming.”

Gabriel had quieted down though he was still rocking back and forth, holding Eric’s hand with both of his. “We must take him with us.”

“That’s fine,” Conrad said. He glanced up the embankment at where Thomas now stood beside the car, watching them.

“Conrad?” Gabriel said, and when Conrad looked back down at the zombie, he saw Gabriel now standing on his two shaking legs, holding Eric’s left arm, James beside him holding the right. “Will you help us carry him?”

He stared another moment, at the zombie’s lifeless face, at the blood glistening in the late afternoon sun, and then he stepped forward and bent down and grabbed Eric’s legs, waited until Gabriel counted to three and then lifted him off the ground and into the air.

Chapter 45

From where they
stood on the water’s edge they could just make out the skyline of Olympus in the failing light. In another two hours the sun would set and night would take over and the city would still be there, never changing, never expiring.

“I never saw the city like this,” Thomas said. “Not from this angle. It makes you think. Every day of your existence you see one thing from the same angle again and again, and you think that’s it. That that one angle is the only one that exists. You forget that there are more angles, that there are tops and bottoms and sides, and what something looks like on one side might be completely different on the other side.”

He glanced back at where James and Gabriel were now fifty yards away, Gabriel standing to the side with his hands clasped watching as James started filling in the hole he’d just dug, the one he’d placed Eric’s dead body in.

“From the moment we exist, we’re told that they’re evil and disgusting and dangerous. But that … that’s just one side of it. The Government never wanted us to see the other side. They never wanted us to see that they’re people too. Why, Conrad? Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. There are always more questions than answers, and for every one answer, there are a hundred, a thousand more questions.”

Thomas went quiet and shook his head. This was the spot they’d managed to escape to, everyone loading into the car Harper had loaned Conrad, driving to the first exit and taking it south, using back roads, until they couldn’t go any farther. James saying he was going to bury Eric by himself, Gabriel saying he was going to watch, Conrad had taken Thomas aside and explained everything, from the very beginning, from when he was a boy up onto this moment, Thomas silent the entire time, staring out at the water that lapped the sand just a few feet away.

Now Thomas looked at him and said, “I think it’s time I should be completely honest with you. Remember before, how I told you I knew your father? I knew him when he worked in Troy. I knew him … when you tried to turn.”

Behind them James worked silently, the shovel scooping up loose dirt and dropping it down the hole.

“Your father confided in me. He was angry. Upset. He was … ashamed. And he told me, made me swear, that if he expired first, I would look after you. To, well, make sure you didn’t do anything to shame him again.”