Found Winters working on Gary behind the reception desk; he looked rough. Not Winters, my brother. Like he’d slid down the world’s largest cheese grater, rough. He was in a lot of pain and bleeding from a dozen spots; well, more like a weeping of blood. He wasn’t in danger of bleeding out, but with that much wounded area exposed to the elements, he was in danger of an infection, which we were ill-prepared to deal with.
“I’m going to need way more bandaging than I’ve got here.” Winters looked up and over to me. I wouldn’t necessarily say there was panic in his eyes, but concern, yeah, there was a lot of that. “And burn ointment–going to need a vat of that.”
Gary was moaning; don’t even think he was aware of it, as his eyes were closed.
“Would love to give him a shot of antibiotics, and not for nothing LT, a hit of morphine.”
“Don’t think I need to go out on a limb to say this, but all that stuff is in the supply bag, right?”
He nodded.
“And if we can’t get it?”
“The morphine is for his comfort and to keep him quiet. The antibiotics, I think are pretty much life or death.”
I stepped away. “BT, we have a situation here.”
“Listening, Mike.”
“Do you by any chance have eyes on our supply bag?”
“You mean that very same bag that’s spread over a fair amount of Broadway?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“What do you need?”
“Gary is going to need the med supplies.”
“Entire street is enemy held, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin to find what you need. Got some more great news. Just heard from Eastman; he lost comm with Etna. Says his radio suffered some sort of damage in the attack.”
My heart, which had kicked into overdrive, began to slow back down. For a moment, I’d thought something had happened back in Washington. Trouble on our end I could deal with, as long as my family was safe.
“Mike?”
“Yeah, sorry; I’m here. Just thought…”
“No, near as I can tell everything is fine there. But we’re alone right now.”
“First priority is my brother, get him stable. If anything changes you know where to find me. Tommy, stay with Winters. I’m going to go a few floors up and see if I can find a medical office.”
“I don’t think going alone is a good idea, Mr. T.”
“I completely agree, but Winters can’t work on Gary and watch around him.”
Tommy looked torn but nodded to me. I pulled the door open and nearly had a friggen’ heart attack as three chairs tumbled down. Someone hadn’t thought this problem out when they attempted to construct a barricade. The stench was pervasive; the darkness impenetrable as I poked my head in. I waited until I was all the way in the stairwell and had closed the door behind me before I turned my flashlight on. Besides some miscellaneous furniture, I was all alone on the first landing. I found the absence of brass strange, but then remembered this was downtown New York, not Dallas. I panned the light all around; there was some blood, but not enough to convince me there had been a slaughter here. Made it to the second floor with absolutely no trouble, actually, all the way to the fifth, before it began to get interesting.
As I moved my light up to the sixth floor, I noticed the glut of office furniture–as if the previous tenants had refused to pay their rent and management had evicted them by throwing everything into the stairwell.
“What the hell?” The obvious play would be to exit there on the fifth floor and see what I could, or go in and find another stairwell up, but I had to take a moment to see what had happened. We all make mistakes, and this was one of mine. I picked my way up to the next floor; I tried to be as quiet as possible, but every little noise was echoed and amplified within those narrow confines. I played my light across what I now considered a makeshift wall. I figured it was to stop whatever was downstairs from coming up; didn’t realize it was the other way around until my flashlight glinted off the rheumy eye of a zombie peering back at me from the other side. After my initial surprise, I got back up to the small hole-through and got a better look. From what I could tell, the entire stairwell behind that one zombie was jam-packed with his brethren, and I’d just given them a reason to start their escape efforts again.
“Just another reason to dislike cats,” I said softly as I quickly retreated. I was referring to how curiosity killed them, apparently, and how if I’d just stuck to my mission, gone and did what I’d set off to do, I might not have stirred the nest. I could hear furniture shifting from the press of bodies, but as of yet they had not got through. I was on the fifth floor, mistakenly thinking I’d left my troubles behind, when I literally stumbled over my first clue that not all was as it should be here. A gnawed-on femur had nearly tripped me.
Heard the telltale, low growl of a zombie; she was a large one, but not a bulker. From her movements, I had her pegged as a first-generation zombie, that of the slow, stiff-legged variety. I’d have plenty of time to scope out the surrounding area and get gone before I ever had to do anything about her. That was, of course, provided she was alone. Apparently, that was too much to ask. Her office mates began to come forth from their cubes. I lost a few precious seconds trying to figure out why they were even in them. Residual memory? Muscle memory? Overtime? When faced with absolutely nothing to do or eat, maybe they had gone back to a place they were familiar with. Weird and terrifying, as I now found myself faced with more than a dozen of the ghouls. Unlike the newer versions, these were in various stages of decay, torn-through faces, hanging flesh, bodies glistening wetly. Their grayish color added greatly to a tragic, haunting feeling. With arms outstretched, they advanced.
I quickly went over to the windows and began scanning the horizon. I’d been so intent on keeping an eye on the things that wanted to murder me, I hadn’t been paying attention to what I was looking at.
“This is New York City. Shitload of people…has to be hospitals everywhere. Focus, man.” I took as much time as I dared, truly studying the nearby buildings. Betty, the Big Zombie, was close. I was just about to move to a more private spot when I suddenly found what I was looking for. A large, white plus sign in a field of red, a block and a half away at the most.
“Rockefeller Medical Center.” I moved to the north-facing windows; bought me an additional twenty seconds. Betty heavy-sighed as her midday snack left her in the lurch. “Holy shit.” I was looking down at another medical center; must have passed it on the way in. I resigned not to be too hard on myself for the oversight.
“Sorry, Betty!” I waved to her as I headed out the exit. Had to sidestep a chair that fell free from up above. I could see the obstruction begin to swell; was only a matter of time and they were going to bust through.
“Mr. T, we have zombies,” Tommy radioed.
“On my way.” I was taking stairs three at a time. Our best bet now was to all head to the medical center. Rockefeller Center had been compromised. Seemed like I was never going to get that chair for Matt. Tommy was standing guard over Winters and Gary, his rifle up, switching from target to target, yet never firing. We had six shufflers, one of which I cracked in the back of the head with my butt stock, sending him flying. I won’t swear it on a stack of bibles, but from the back, it sure did look like Matt Damon might add me to his Christmas mailing list for who I’d just hit.
“Moving isn’t a good idea,” Winters said. Gary was stripped down to his briefs.
“Gotta go. Good news–there’s a medical center about a hundred yards from here,” I said.
“I’ll carry him,” Tommy offered.
“Don’t touch any of his wounds,” Winters warned.
That was akin to not getting sand on yourself at the beach. How he was going to manage that was a mystery. Winters grabbed up his meager supplies and Gary’s boots; everything else was going to need to be replaced as it was cut to shreds by the ground and finished off by the medic.
“BT, we’re on the move. Leaving Rockefeller Center and heading not far, to a medical services area.”
“Copy that,” BT replied.
“All good where you’re at?”
“Tough to say. Zombies aren’t leaving–in fact, they look like they’re having a giant meeting about what they plan on doing next.”
“Getting better and better. Hey, are there clothes in that place?”
“Why? You planning on doing a little souvenir shopping?”
“Yeah. I’m sure the missus will be thrilled when I bring her back an M&M’s t-shirt. Gary is without gear; he’s going to need something.”
“Sorry. How’s he doing?”
“Road rash like a mother. As long as this place has some supplies, we should be all right, and then we’ll just have to deal with his modesty. I’ll never get him out of here if he doesn’t have clothes. He’s the only person I know that wears a bathing suit in the shower.” BT laughed at that.
“We all have our issues,” I said.
“Some more than others.”
“And he only does that when other people are home,” I clarified.
“Just so happens he’s in luck! He’s going to be as bright as a Mardi Gras drunk, but he’ll have a t-shirt and some sweats. Don’t see anything besides flip-flops for shoes though.”
“Got that covered. Boots made it.”
“Hurry up and find a way for us to regroup. Something is going to go down soon and I’d rather we were all facing it together.”
“Get back to you soon,” I told him.
We made it to the medical center without any mishaps, which, considering my track record, is pretty good. Although, even I should be able to travel a hundred feet without expecting a piano to land on my head. It wasn’t much more than a medical tent like you’d see at a concert, a place for the overly fucked-up and super-dehydrated to get back on track. It did, however, have gauze plus burn and scrape medication in spades. The problem with the ointment, though, was it came in little foil travel packets. We were going to need to rip open a couple hundred of the things and squish them all over my brother. We’d do it because we needed to, but just because we hadn’t encountered any problems getting here didn’t mean we weren’t bringing some with us and time would be of the essence. The Rockefeller zombies had seen us leave, and I would think had seen us enter this small facility. We wouldn’t be able to hole up here indefinitely.
Winters tossed an armload of the A&D packets toward me along with a pair of sterile gloves. “Keep spreading this on him. I’m going to look for drugs.” I could hear him in the back, pushing things all over the place. Tommy was keeping an eye on the door. “Got a couple of Z-packs…that’s going to have to do. No painkillers, though. I don’t think aspirin is going to cut it.”
I was surprised he even found antibiotics in the little aid station; the thought he’d hoped to find opioids seemed crazy, especially in the heart of New York and without an armed guard.
“Talbot–need an update,” BT called in.
“Have Gary at an aid station, got medicine and wrappings, no hard drugs for the pain. Have a few minutes…maybe…before we need to move again.”
BT was quiet for a second. “Any medical personnel there? And before I get a smart-ass answer, I mean any bodies.”
“Why? And, yeah, at least one. Younger guy in a white coat in the corner, what’s left of him anyway.”
“Check his pockets.”
“I’d rather use your spoon! Bud, he’s mostly a pile of goo. It’s…disturbing.”
“When I was on the force, about half the people we busted for popping pills were medical professionals. ‘Physician heal thyself’ and all that shit.”
“More like, ‘What’s up, doc?’”
“That was horrible. Just check the body. Odds are pretty good he’s got a little something on him.”
“Tommy, I don’t have another pair of gloves. Can you check that guy for pills?”
“Nice delegation,” BT murmured.
“Being an officer has its perks.”
Tommy didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, but I only got two, maybe three, dirty looks as he fished around. He had to flip the man over to get to the side pockets. If I thought any of this was gross before, I was mistaken. There was a wet tearing sound as Tommy lifted the edge of the medic up, well, as he tried to lift the edge of the medic up. Ended up half his body stayed where it had been on the floor. Tommy was more or less just shuffling a moist skeleton into another twisted position. Instead of wrestling with the compost, he just pulled the white lab coat free. Winters was watching the whole thing; I think his jaw was less than three inches from hitting the floor.
“I’ve seen a lot of things, but I’m not sure anything is going to get any worse than that,” he said as he came up beside me. “What’s he doing exactly?”
Tommy came over with a brown bottle; it did not have a label on it, but it most certainly did have pills. He shook them at us.
“What are we supposed to do with that? Could be Viagra for all we know and I for one am not carrying a man around sporting a perpetual hard-on.” Winters was busy dressing the wounds I had slathered. Tommy opened the container up and spilled a couple of pills onto the counter, getting ready to hand them to me. “We can’t give unknown pills to him; they could be heart medication or something even more dangerous.”
“What do they look like?” BT asked. I forgot I’d kept the channel open. I took a glove off and took one of the pills from atop the shelf.
“Got OP on one side and the number ten on the other.”
“Give him one,” BT said.
“Since when did you become a pill identifier?”
“I’ve seen enough OxyContin to know what you’ve got.”
“This is Oxy?” I looked at the pill. “Tommy, how many do you have?”
“Twelve.” He was looking inside the brown bottle.
“Don’t even think about it Talbot. We’re on a mission.”
“Too late…the thinking part, anyway.”
“Tommy, under no circumstances are you to hand that bottle over to the lieutenant.”
“Buzzkill.”
“There’s water behind the counter; let’s get that in him.” Winters was wrapping Gary like a mummy. I got up and found the water. The pull was strong as I held that water and that pill; who wouldn’t want to check out from our current situation? “Should have checked the damn body myself,” I mumbled as I went back over, managed to get my brother to swallow that and the first couple of pills from the z-pack.
“That should keep him safe until we get him back.”
“Got a group of shufflers coming,” Tommy warned as he went back to his post.
“You clear over there? We’re going to need to move again.”
“That’s a negative, we’re hemmed in. The zombies look like they’re making a grid search pattern. They’ve got a large main group in the roadway and they’re sending out patrols to go into each building on the street. We might have to move soon, too.”
“Winters, get Gary’s boots on him. We gotta move out. BT, two blocks southeast of you is Nintendo World; we’re heading there now. I want you to make a run for it; we’ll cover your move. Tommy?”
“Got him.” Tommy gently picked up Gary, who groaned in protest. I stepped out of the store. Upon seeing me, the shufflers quickened their pace.
“Times like this I wish I’d brought a sword.”
“Or a crossbow.” Winters was beside me.
“Can you imagine trying to load that thing fast enough to stop a horde?” I asked.
“Not really.”
We started moving away. If we could keep a big enough lead on the shufflers, we could lose them, although, what was the use? As soon as we started shooting to cover BT’s breakout, they’d find us. Rifles began to fire; there was an extended concentration of percussion as they fought to get free. Sitting idly by, waiting for my unit to show themselves, was exceedingly difficult. I was getting it in stereo through the radio as BT ordered the group forward.
We were by the Nintendo store; it was two floors, all windows. Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to go in there, fill a rucksack with all manner of games, grab a few Mario knick-knacks…but if we set up shop on the second floor we’d be quickly trapped. So, there we were, just standing on the street, and I honestly didn’t have a clue where to go. We had to wait for BT and the rest; getting split up in a city overrun by the undead was not an option. We were cut off from our home base and as of yet, we hadn’t even begun the mission we’d been dropped down here for. If I went back to Bennington and told him we couldn’t finish because of zombies, I had a feeling that wouldn’t fly. We were on this operation, despite the zombies or because of them; either way, we had to finish.
“I see them.” Tommy was pointing ahead; my gaze was still fixed on the second floor of the Nintendo store and the giant stuffed Donkey Kong. When I looked back, they were running full tilt; could see a brigade worth of zombies following them. Standing and fighting was not an option and from this angle, we didn’t even have clear lines of sight to cover their retreat. I turned to look around, spotting for alternate escape routes when I saw the boy. He looked like a street urchin from a Dickens play; he stood at the end of the block, watching us.
“What fuckery is this?” I said, Winters turned. “You see that too?” I asked.
“Yeah…not sure I want to, though.”
The boy started waving. Don’t know why; he already had our attention. Then he made a motion as if to follow him.
Winters looked at me.
“No idea,” I told him honestly.
“We’re coming in hot,” BT chugged out.
“Keep running past the Nintendo building. We’re following a lead to the end of the block,” I replied.
“Really?” Winters wasn’t thrilled.
“Every building around here is nothing but glass panels and I don’t want to end up bunkered in one. Tommy, come on.”
The boy was gone when Tommy looked. “Where to?”
I started jogging. I didn’t have an answer for him. We rounded the block; either we had taken longer than expected or the kid was phenomenally fast. He was nearly a block and a half away, still waving with his arms for us to follow.
“Any part of you think this could be a set-up?” Winters asked.
“Is what a set-up?” BT asked, he sounded close to being out of breath.
“A kid is leading us somewhere,” I told him.
“Leading us where?”
“Don’t know, and right now I’m not flush with options, and stop talking and do more running.”
He grunted a deep, “Fuck off.” Their gunfire had trailed off, as trying to slow down the vanguard by firing some shots into the group proved wholly ineffectual. Much better to flat out run.
A tall man came running out onto the street ahead of us, wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders, and was leading him off the street. The boy was adamant as he pointed toward the four of us coming their way. Even from this distance, I could see the man tense up. He spoke something over his shoulder; three people came onto the road, all with handguns. In terms of firepower, we had it over them–or the ones showing, anyway–but that wasn’t how I wanted this to play out. The man’s evident surprise led me to believe the kid was acting on his own, trying to get us to safety, and that this wasn’t some elaborate ruse. I was still running, but I had my hands halfway in the air, holding my rifle.
“Winters,” I urged the sergeant to do the same. Tommy had Gary in his arms, so he wasn’t pointing anything.
“Far enough!” the tall man shouted as we neared.
“No can do…about to have a few thousand zombies here.”
He fired a shot over my head; might have been a good ten feet over, didn’t care. I take extreme offense to any high-speed projectiles deliberately sent my way. I leveled my gun on him.
“Try it again! I’ll fucking drop you in a puddle of your own making.”
I had pulled up short as had Winters; even Tommy adjusted Gary so he could with one arm bring his rifle to bear. We had a standoff, but if bullets started flying the advantage was all ours; the pistols were out at about the extreme of any accuracy. Besides ourselves, the only other I cared about was the boy. I had no desire to see him become a casualty of war. I was happy the man had the wherewithal to push the boy behind him; it gave me an inkling of his character. Not enough I’d trust him with my life, but an advance, nonetheless.
“Heard…a…gunshot…” BT managed to get out during deep breaths.
“We’re fine! Just get your ass moving.”
“Who are you talking to?” the tall man asked.
“Backup, followed by not backup.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, then I saw his eyes go wide. I would imagine he just saw the enormous black man round the corner with seven others of my team. That was fairly impressive in itself; his jaw dropped when he saw what was making them move so fast.
“Lyle! Get in the church now!” the man commanded.
“Dad, what about them?” He was pointing at us.
“What did I tell you son? Not every stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet.”
“My name is Lieutenant Michael Talbot! I’m part of a group out of Washington.”
“DC?”
“State.” I clarified.
“Long way from home.”
“You have no idea. We’re on a mission, got attacked. Our plane was forced down…we had to jump before we were ready and it’s been a downhill slide ever since.”
The man looked at the three he was with. “Follow us.”
“Jason?” the lone female questioned him.
“What makes you think they’re not going to come anyway? This way, if you’re coming.” And without waiting to see my response, they left.
“What are we doing?” Winters asked.
“Gonna go soak up some of that New York hospitality.”
“This is what passes for hospitality on the East Coast?”
“This is actually pretty good. Only got shot at once. BT–we’ll make sure to keep you in view. Just a little farther.” I didn’t really know how much more we had to go but he sounded like he was on his last legs; I had to give him some hope.
“Kirby, get your ass up here!” BT roared.
“Shit! Got a couple falling behind. Winters, Tommy, go. They went into the church. I’m going to help them. Go! That’s an order!” We were next to Saks Fifth Avenue, and Lyle and Jason, with the others, had just gone into St Patrick’s Cathedral. I was alone for the moment, and I was waving them on. “A hundred yards past me and into the church, BT. Do not stop. I’ll pick up the stragglers!”
He didn’t respond. We trained extensively for cardio, but there’s only so far you can sprint-none of us were marathoners. Everyone was reasonably tight except for Private Kirby and Private Harmon. The latter had a limp and the former was doing his best to keep those closest to her from dragging her down. I climbed onto a car hoping for some height and a somewhat decent firing angle, but these shots were going to be close. Private Autumn Harmon had been the last to join my team; I’d be damned if she was going to be the first to die. She’d lost her hat at some point, and her long auburn hair was just about tickling the nose of the closest pursuing zombie. If his arms hadn’t been pumping so much to gain speed, he could have reached out and yanked her head back. I had a window about the size of a dinner plate to shoot at. With a thudding heart and a moving target, I was taking my time lining up the shot. I hate to say “hesitating,” because that is what gets people killed in combat.
BT and the others were a moment from passing me by. I let a bullet fly. The zombie behind Harmon was pushed to the side as I placed one high in his shoulder. His side dipped down and caused his feet to trip up; this was enough for him to take out the two closest behind him. They went down in a heap of arms, legs, and teeth. Kirby was reaching over to keep Harmon moving.
“Private, go! I’ve got her. Run!” He looked to me, to her, the church and the zombies…must have been a lot of math he was calculating. Finally, he did as I asked and sped up. I took three more shots, giving her a few feet, but she was tapped. I could see it in her eyes; she wanted to give up. Maybe not give up–no one willingly goes into the teeth of the zombies–but she was at the end of her abilities and her injury was taking its toll.
I jumped off the car and ran to meet her; felt like a relay racer waiting for the baton. I grabbed her by the side and we were off. She practically fell into me. “Hundred yards, Talbot…you’ve got this.” I growled, cheering myself on. My team was waiting on the cathedral stairs, firing the second we came into view. I could feel the air pressure around us ripple as bullets whizzed past. Harmon screamed out and I felt her jerk back. The zombie behind had won the hard-fought prize of a chunk of her hair. Could almost guarantee if we got back to Etna she was going to end up with a bob and a comb-over to fix or hide the damage done. Might even go with a buzz cut, if the length of what I saw in that zombie’s fist was any indication.
“Move, Private!” At this point, I was nearly dragging her. If I’d had the time, I would have scooped her up.
She had a response, but it was stuck in her throat along with her pounding heart and extreme fear. I stumbled as the back of my heel collided with what I suspect was a zombie’s kneecap. I grunted as I pitched forward; if not for Harmon attached to my hip, I would have gone down. We were less than twenty-five yards from perceived safety. BT had shifted his angle so he could better help mine and Harmon’s escape. It was going to be close for all of us involved to get into that church. Zombies were storming from every direction, converging on that one place. How they could be moving so fucking fast while they were so densely packed together defied some sort of law of physics, or some mathematical principle…I don’t know. Let me see if I can describe an accurate picture: let’s say St. Patrick’s is high ground during an immense flooding from a Tsunami. This massive rolling tide of water has rushed in and is blasting through everything in its way until it finally concentrates and coalesces on that last remaining high spot that it has not had a chance to wash asunder. That was the zombies. We were in just as much danger of being cut off from the front of the church as we were being dragged under.
BT realized this, popped two more rounds my way before jumping back into position to get to safety. I took flight, hauling Harmon with me as we cleared the five steps leading up to the door. BT was next in line for our life or death relay race, mumbling, “Come on come on come on,” and patiently reaching for the baton. He grabbed my side and shoulder and flung all of us through the massive door. A large rope had been attached to a handle inside; four people were manning it and pulled it closed the moment we were clear. Not quick enough, though, to keep two zombies from entering with us. There wasn’t a thing I could have done as the three of us were sprawled out on the floor some ten feet from the entrance. Stenzel, Tommy, and Winters made short work of the interlopers. The sound of the shots reverberated throughout the cavernous structure for another ten seconds.
Harmon was lying back against the cool marble foyer, her chest rising and falling at an accelerated pace. I sat up, as did BT; I clapped him on the thigh.
“Thanks, man.”
He nodded. I stood up with Tommy’s help; BT was inclined to stay where he was a little longer.
“Umm…Lieutenant, we have a problem.” Winters was looking behind me, not to the heavy door that was being pummeled; he was referring to something else.
I turned; was looking at roughly thirty people, all holding a variety of weaponry that, if used, would spell the end of us all.
“Hold off.” I had my hands half-raised, talking to my squad rather than the group of armed people in front of us. “If I put my weapon down can we talk?”
“What about them?” The tall man motioned with his pistol.
“Them? No, they’re holding on to their rifles. One of you gets an itch you figure needs scratching I’m going to make sure they can defend themselves and save my ass from getting shot. Hate getting shot; I consider it a rude gesture. But here, I’m going to offer some goodwill.” I lifted my rifle, attached to its tactical harness, up and over my head and gently placed it on the floor, rising back up with my hands held halfway high. “You’re not going to follow suit? Remember, you asked me to follow you,” I said to the man who seemed in charge. He looked left and right to the people with him before holstering his weapon.
“First off, I want to thank you for allowing us in. For those of you I haven’t met, my name is Michael Talbot. I am a lieutenant in the Marine Corps; this here is my squad, and I’m in charge of them.” BT scoffed at that. “We’re on a mission that has gone slightly awry.”
“Slightly?” the woman to the left of Lyle’s dad replied.
The man halted her with a hand movement. “Jason,” he extended his hand, “Jason Vorhees.” He must have seen the expression change in my face. “I’ve heard it all–you don’t need to add to it.”
I diplomatically kept my mouth shut. “Before we start talking, do we need to worry about them?” The pounding on the door remained constant.
“Nothing is coming through there.” Jason seemed pretty sure of himself. The doors looked stout, but I don’t know if they were bulker-stout.
“Sgt. Winters, check on the private here. Sgt. Van Goth, I want you and a detail of four to keep an eye on the door.” That left a few to keep an eye on them without having to say as much. “Gunney, I want you with me.” BT was just getting up off the floor. I noticed Jason and a few others involuntarily step back a pace or two; it was kind of hard not to when faced with the larger-than-life man. Pretty much exactly the effect I was hoping for. We meant them no harm and I demanded the same from them; any intimidation I needed to employ to keep them in check, I would use.
“First off, little man, thank you for saving our butts.” I smiled to Lyle and gave him a thumbs up. He seemed pretty pleased with himself, even though he got more than a few dirty looks from the rest of the survivors for bringing strangers into their midst. We headed toward the dais of the enormous gothic structure. There were towering columns and pointed arch ceilings that soared above us, completely remote from the troubles below them. Intricate stained glass windows brightly depicting the stations of the cross lined both walls. The pews had been moved up to the front, marking the borders of their sleeping section. Off to my immediate left was what looked like where they must eat, but judging by a general look at the population here, they were not getting enough. They weren’t emaciated or lethargic, nor did they have that far-off stare of those consuming their innards to stay alive, but they were knocking on that door like they wanted to take a peek.
“How many here?” I asked curiously while we were walking. Wasn’t quite sure how Jason would take it, like, whether I might be sizing them up.
He looked over his shoulder. “Are you who you say you are?”
“Who else would I be?”
“I think he’s looking for confirmation that you’re not an asshole…Lieutenant,” BT finally added at the end.
“Listen, I’m not perfect and sometimes I probably head into less than decent territory. My wife can attest to that. But we’re not here to cause your people any harm in any way. Just extremely thankful for the help.” We had got to the dais and took a left heading back to the refectory and what looked like the priests’ quarters.
Jason opened the door to a small room with a large dining table. The chairs were oversized and had high backs covered with a plush, purple velvet fabric. I could not get gaudy out of my mind. Kept it to myself as Jason said a small prayer then sat.
“The priest no longer here?” I asked once he was done.
Jason looked at me, a sadness in his eyes. “We were in the middle of a wedding when he turned. My daughter was marrying her high school sweetheart; they had just graduated college and were getting ready to move to Chicago. Both of them had good jobs waiting.” He paused and looked off to the side, water beginning to fill in the wells of his eyes. “She had just said ‘I do,’ when Father Callahan collapsed. She went to help him and he…”
“We get it, you don’t need to continue.” I wanted to spare him the rehashing of a horrible memory and honestly, I wanted to spare myself from having to add another one to the arsenal of nightmares I already carried.
“Her almost-husband Calvin, he beat that priest to death with the crucifix. Then he said he was taking Penny to the hospital. That priest…he…” Jason gulped hard. “He’d chewed through her face. She was unrecognizable. By the time we rushed to the door and were heading out to our cars, the city was a disaster. People screaming as others attacked them. Could hear sirens, gunshots, twisting metal and screeching brakes from any number of accidents happening all around us. It was a war out there and it was impossible to tell who was fighting for which side. Doctors attacking homeless, children eating policemen…none of it made any sense. I’m ashamed to admit it, but, I froze. My poor Penny was dying in Calvin’s arms and I locked up. He was running down the steps and I found myself backing into the church. I tell myself I did it to protect my son Lyle and my wife.” He stopped to look directly at me, a haunted expression in his eyes. “But that wasn’t it. I couldn’t think of anything but the terror that was coursing through my body, gripping my heart.”
“You know the moment that priest bit your daughter, she was dead, right?” I said, trying to ease his pain.
“I know that now; didn’t know it then, and still I did nothing. Calvin looked back once at me and I swear he felt betrayed–though he didn’t say anything, and then he just started running. I shut the church doors; locked them, too. Everything I’ve done since that day has been to try and make myself a better person, someone that wouldn’t cave in the face of intense circumstances. Someone my son can be proud to call his father. My wife hasn’t said more than two words to me since that day. We weren’t exactly the poster-children for a perfect marriage; that just happened to be what ended it.”
“Jason, listen. I realize how horrible all of this, all of that, is and was, but you can’t blame yourself. This is all uncharted territory; there’s no way any of us can know how we’re going to react in a scenario that shouldn’t exist, that doesn’t even seem possible. Everyone in that church back there, whether you meant to or not, they’re alive because you locked that door. Without a weapon of any sort you would have been lost with Calvin. A senseless loss in a world already overrun with them.”
He nodded at my words, but I wasn’t a skilled therapist. Not even sure if I had scratched the bright shiny surface of his misery.
He shook his head, trying to rattle the horrible thing from his mind. I don’t know why he told me what he had; maybe the guilt was so pervasive on his part that he wanted everyone he came into contact with to know him for the coward he thought he was. I’m sure there’s some sort of term for that, wanting loathing from others, but he wasn’t going to get it from me. In terms of the atrocities I had seen humanity perform on itself and others, he was at the lower end of the shitty spectrum.
“Can you save them?” he asked. “Can you save them all?”
“How many do you have here?” BT asked.
“Eighty-two.”
I hadn’t noticed half that when I came in. “Where are the others?”
“Others?” Jason appeared to be exiting a dream.
“You said eighty-two; my guess had you closer to forty,” I said, giving a quick glance over to BT. His eyebrows furrowed. It appeared to both of us that the man was on the verge of a breakdown. Why now, though? Had he just been waiting to recall his story to someone he didn’t know? To finally pass the torch, as it were?
“Sorry. Started with eighty-two, have thirty-eight. Most were lost those first few days, trying to get home or gather supplies.”
“Speaking of supplies, how is your food situation?” I probed.
“Had a bit of luck there. The previous weekend the church had a food drive, was going to give the donations to the local homeless shelters for Christmas. We ate pretty well for the first couple of weeks and then we began to realize that help wasn’t coming and we couldn’t safely get out. We began to ration at that point. We’re down to a couple of spoonfuls of beans and half a bottle of water a day now. Most of the time, I give my portion to my son. Realistically, we can’t make it much longer. That, in part, was why I told you to follow me. I’m desperate, desperate, to keep him alive.”