Xombies: Apocalypso (18 page)

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Authors: Walter Greatshell

BOOK: Xombies: Apocalypso
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“No. But I’m thinking we need to create some kind of diversion, like what happened with the Reapers. Then, in all the confusion, I sneak into the women’s camp and smuggle Jim out.”
“Assuming he even wants to go. We don’t know what he’s got going on in there. We could get ourselves into deep shit for nothing.”
Ray nodded. “No, you’re right. I really need to talk to him first.”
“Oh, is that all? And just how, exactly, do you plan on getting in there?”
“Maybe I’ll dress up as a woman.”
“Yeah.” Todd looked him over skeptically. “Good luck with that.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 
RAY AND BRENDA
 
W
hen Agent X hit, Ray Despineau and his big sister, Brenda, were on the road.
It was midnight, New Year’s Eve, and Brenda had a splitting headache. They had been trapped in traffic for more than nine hours, all routes south inexplicably blocked by police and armed troops. Through sheer gall, their driver had managed to bully his way to an off-ramp, but the situation was no better on the streets below. They should have been at the plant by nightfall; Uncle Jim would not be pleased.
“Happy fucking New Year,” muttered their burly limo driver, Apollo, knowing the axe would fall heaviest on him. He was desperate for a toilet break but was punishing himself with the discomfort. His passengers had overcome their own aversion to peeing in plastic cups from the minibar and dumping it out the windows.
“It’s okay, Apollo,” Brenda said. “It’s not your fault. There was no way of knowing the roads would be blocked off like this.”
“I knew we shoulda had a police escort, a big official motorcade. But the bastards wouldn’t give it to us, and now I see why: They were all pulling fucking traffic duty. God-damn flagmen. This is bullshit.”
Suddenly, everything went crazy: a lunatic orchestra of car horns, sirens, alarms, people screaming and yelling— and gunfire. The amount of racket was astounding even for midnight on New Year’s Eve. But very quickly, Ray, Brenda, and Apollo knew something else was going on.
Car crashes! Ray could hear a ridiculous smashing and screeching of tires up on I-95, just a never-ending pileup, hundreds of cars in a row—
crash, boom, bash!
Their own car was underneath the highway, near the I-195 interchange, so this was all happening right over their heads. Glass rained down, and Ray could see fires up there and hear bloodcurdling screams … and then
people
started falling! Just jumping over the highway barrier and slamming into the street below like sacks of potatoes.
Drivers started pouring out of their cars, wondering what the hell was going on. Cops screamed at them to get back inside their vehicles. Others just went crazy, hitting the gas and crashing into the traffic around them, like mad bumper cars. As Ray watched, an ambulance swerved into the opposing lane, busted through the line of cars, flew off the road, and hit a freeway pylon—
kabam!
All this was bad enough, but what freaked him out the most was when everybody started
fighting
all of a sudden. Wherever he looked, there were these weird struggles going on: people trying to either kill or kiss one another—it was hard to tell which. But in either case, they were going at it like crazed wildcats, men and women both.
Some of them—a lot of them—looked oddly blue. Blue women ran in from all over, jumping out of cars, tearing their clothes off, and running naked down the road. They all had the same freaky black eyes, shark eyes, and they just swept in from out of nowhere like sharks joining a great big feeding frenzy. Only instead of eating you, they …
kissed
you. Kissed you and killed you and sucked the living breath right out of your body. Then you came back as one of
them
.
Ray saw it happening more and more, everywhere he looked. Clothes were shredded; blood was shed, blood both red and black. But one after another, the normal folk were taken down, even the toughest-looking dudes turning into two-legged blue sharks, adding their fevered lust to the frenzy. Crazy was winning, the night overthrown by eye-popping, blue-in-the-face, hysterical lunacy.
The horrible spectacle was not lost on Apollo. He said, “Belt yourselves in and hold tight.”
“What are you doing?” Brenda asked.
“Getting us the fuck out of here.” He shifted into reverse and stomped on the gas.
The limo was a customized 4x4 Escalade, armor-plated and with bulletproof windows and tires that wouldn’t go flat even with big holes in them. Apollo drove it like a bat out of Hell even in normal circumstances—he was a retired Secret Service agent, picking up extra change providing personal security for Sandoval’s “family”—so all at once, they were plowing clear of the mess, making a U-turn, and flying around car wrecks and fight scenes like a star quarterback running for a touchdown. The northbound lane was much less congested, but now they were going in the wrong direction, heading back into the city. A number of other cars were right behind them, piggybacking on the SUV’s momentum.
“Stop!” Brenda shouted. “Where are we going?”
“Sorry, Miss Despineau, but I’m taking you two back home, if we can even make it. It’s the safest place right now. I’m sure Mr. Sandoval would agree.”
Just ahead, Ray could see the lights and big, reassuring office towers of downtown Providence. All that still looked so normal he started to let himself collapse, flipping out from the horrible things he had just witnessed … until they started getting closer. Then he could see the smoke and hear the noise, even with the windows rolled up.
Oh God
…
oh no, please
…
Downtown Providence was a living Hell. All the unfortunate people who had come downtown to join the First Night celebration were discovering it was their Last Night, or in most cases their Last Minute. They were everywhere, running or being chased, and wherever Ray looked, the blue freaks were gaining.
Right away it was obvious that the limo was not getting anywhere near their high-rise condo complex because the main intersection was jammed with all kinds of police and emergency vehicles. But there weren’t too many cops around—just lots of Ex-cops. People kept jumping on the car and beating on the windows, and Apollo kept having to swerve around or speed up and hit the brakes to throw them off. It was making Ray nauseous. Apollo also ran over a few folks, which really pushed Ray over the edge because he couldn’t even run over a squirrel without feeling bad about it.
So Ray was screaming,
“Stop! Stop!”
and Brenda was babbling, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” and everybody all around them was going nuts, but Apollo … Apollo was a damn rock. He knew exactly where he was going and soon found a little alleyway straight into the city.
The streets were surprisingly empty inside, which was maybe not so surprising since it was a holiday and all the offices were closed, but now Apollo could really hit it, and before Ray knew what was happening, they were shooting down a ramp into Sandoval’s underground parking garage. The big steel gate came down like a medieval portcullis.
“Awesome,” Ray moaned.
At least they were safe for the moment. Riverdale Residences was a high-security building for a very exclusive clientele. Nobody could get in or out without an electronic passkey, and each unit had its own private floor and key code. No solicitors.
Brenda threw her BlackBerry down, and cried, “It’s dead! Everything’s dead! I can’t stay here! Darryl is probably freaking out—I have to go get him!” Darryl was Brenda’s miniature schnauzer. She had dropped him at the kennel earlier that morning.
“Don’t you fuckin’
dare
go anywhere,” Ray said.
“I have to! I have to get Darryl!”
“Everybody calm down,” Apollo commanded. “Let’s don’t get ahead of ourselves.”
Modulating his voice, Ray said, “Brenda, Darryl would want you to be safe, wouldn’t he? It doesn’t do him any good to have you rush out there and get yourself killed.”
“It’s staying here in this zoo that’s going to get us all killed! We need to get out of here!”
Apollo said, “No, this is the safest place to be until help arrives. This building is like a bank vault, and we have everything we need for now. Whatever’s happening out there will probably take care of itself by morning. We just have to sit tight.”
They sat … and listened.
All night long, they heard sounds of war: glass breaking, shooting, screams, car alarms, explosions. They smelled gun smoke, burnt rubber, burning gasoline, and burning flesh. TV and radio provided only loose scraps of bad news, worse news, and finally no news. All they had to do was look out the window to see the world coming apart at the seams: towers of smoke and raging fires all over the city.
“Oh my God,” Brenda said, shutting the curtains against the horror. “Oh my God, there’s no chance. There’s just no chance. What are we going to
do
?”
“Whatever we have to,” said Apollo. “For now, all we can do is wait.”
“Wait for what? For those things to crawl in here and get us in our sleep?”
“No. They can’t get in here. This building is hermetically sealed. It’s allergy-proof, hurricane-proof, and crime-proof. It’s designed for paranoid corporate hotshots like your uncle. Trust me, the security is total. I helped set it up.”
By dawn, things went quiet. Except for an occasional spasm of violence, the odd scream or shooting, there was very little that broke the peace for the next few days. But there was no escape either—blue people were everywhere.
“We have to get out of here,” Brenda wearily persisted.
Ray wasn’t ready to quit. After the initial shock had passed, he found a deep reserve of stone-cold determination. He hadn’t survived this long just to give in to the blues.
Apollo said, “There’s food for another week, maybe two if we ration it out. That’s enough time for this whole thing to blow over. There must be people in charge who are working on this problem. We just have to give them time to do it.”
“Don’t count on it,” Brenda said.
They tried contacting other people in the building, buzzing all the units from the lobby, but either there was no one home or no one wanted company. It was a very select membership, Moguls Only: politicians, religious leaders, business magnates, all of them living incognito, privacy being one of the building’s premium selling points. Odd that they would have all left town at once. But it was just as well: Ray had nothing to offer them but tea and sympathy—and the tea was running low.
The cavalry finally arrived.
It started with a promising sound: the tinkling of an ice-cream truck. How wonderful it was to hear such familiar, friendly music—it sounded like summer. Looking down from the balcony, they watched as the truck passed directly below, towing a trailer full of caged women.
“What the hell is that?” Apollo asked.
From what Ray could see, the women were clearly not Xombies. If it was true that the plague mainly struck women, as the Emergency Broadcast had implied, then why were these not infected? Perhaps they were being kept in the cage for their own safety … although it certainly didn’t look like that. It looked more like some kind of twisted freak show with Xombies as the prime audience.
As the truck reached the far end of the street, it released the trailer and sped away. Brenda and Apollo argued about what to do, but there was really nothing to be done because the Xombies were there, swarming over the cage like maggots. Screaming, Brenda covered her ears and fled from the window, and Apollo dragged Ray away as well, so they all missed the brilliant explosion that followed.
There was nothing left to console them. It was all too obvious what was going on and what that meant for the future of the human race. No women, no babies, in which case this really was the end of everything.
When the fires died down, the loudspeakers started up:
“THIS IS A MESSAGE TO ALL LOYAL AMERICANS: YOU ARE CALLED UPON TO JOIN IN THE FIGHT AGAINST EVIL. JOIN OUR VICTORIOUS CAMPAIGN, AND HELP BANISH THE SCOURGE OF AGENT X. HAVE NO FEAR—THE HELLIONS ARE ON THE RUN. COME FORTH AND STAND WITH US. WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS, AND WE BRING GOOD NEWS. THE WORST IS OVER. SHARE OUR FOOD, MEDICINE, FELLOWSHIP, AND SAFE REFUGE. COME FORTH, COME FORTH, ALL YE FAITHFUL. THE HOLY AVENGERS OF ADAM WANT YOU.”
“What the hell’s the Avengers of Adam?” asked Brenda.
“Sounds like a comic book,” said Ray.
The crusaders were systematically searching the city and arresting any survivors. What was remarkable was the sudden absence of Xombies; the city was temporarily free of ghouls. And there were surprisingly many human holdouts, quick-thinking folks who had hidden in attics, basements, and bomb shelters—mostly men, but also a few women. With brusque efficiency, the soldiers bagged their captives and drove them away, sealing off each building as it was cleared. There was not much resistance. Brenda had no interest in joining those refugees, and Ray and Apollo were in full agreement with her.
Day after day, hour after hour, they kept waiting for help to arrive, some legitimate entity of the U.S. government, like the National Guard, or perhaps the Red Cross. The Boy Scouts of America—
anything
. Panic set in as it became clear that nothing was going to happen in time to save them: The Holy Avengers of Adam were starting on their block. Very soon, the lobby’s heavy security doors would be broken down, the building would be invaded, and they would be dragged outside to join the prisoners on those trucks … bound for whatever fate the HAA had in store.

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