| |
BEN
Silence.
Ben has never liked silence after battle. Silence after battle often means there’s no one left to speak.
The quiet presses in around him like a black hole. The vast space threatens to swallow him. The silence is a physical sensation—a lack of movement.
The explosion. The ambush. His men. Where are they?
Ben feels his heart pound against his sternum, a frantic thump-thump-thump.
His men. The explosion. The blinding sear of orange flames that blew up the corner of the meat shop as they came around the corner—
He claws at the pile of mortar and crumpled stone in front of him. Out. He has to get out. He has to find his men. He has to find the fuckers who ambushed them.
A nail tears, breaking to the quick. Ben doesn’t even feel the pain. His breath comes in short gasps as panic threatens to suffocate him. He shoves and claws, fighting to dig himself free of the hellhole he’s been buried in.
Light hits his face.
Something is wrong.
The air on his face doesn’t smell right. It’s salty. And cool. It’s not the bone-sucking heat of Somalia. It’s—
A soft moan breaks through the ringing in his ears, followed by another. Somewhere distant, a high-pitched keening raises the hair all along the back of his neck.
The world around him recalculates, swinging wildly as he struggles to get his bearings. The dry heat of the African desert disappears from his mind, as do the shanty towns, shrub lands, and the familiar feel of being surrounded by comrades in arms.
Ben finds himself dropkicked from the streets of Somalia into the ruins of Humboldt University in Arcata, California. The force of the return is so strong his head swims.
Where is everyone?
Where is Kate?
His knees scrape painfully against the pavement as he drags himself the rest of the way free from the rubble. He feels his pants rip, feels the bite of rough stone against his skin.
Panting, he struggles to his feet. His legs sway, threatening to give way. His vision corkscrews. He blinks, waiting for it to clear.
The details fall in around him. The dorms are all down, piles of rubble that create a perfect barrier between them and the dead. Beyond the dorms, the library has also been leveled.
Ben has never been much of a reader. Books were fine for killing time, though he preferred a game of cards over a book any day of the week. Still, the sight of the collapsed library is like the loss of a good Hummer. They used that library. An excess of information was always at their fingertips. All gone now.
The library hadn’t been part of the original plan, but it had been a damn good improvisation. The string of wrecked buildings has accomplished several things. Most zoms that breached the campus are buried. The collapsed library blocked the last large gap, leaving no egress for more zoms to enter campus. Even now, he sees large swaths of them tumbling down to the freeway on the west side as they follow the natural curve of the wreckage.
It’s far from perfect, but considering the situation, it’s pretty fucking good. And effective. With any luck, they can weather the worst of this storm.
A figure comes his way. A tall, lanky boy with broad shoulders. His face is bloody, his body covered in a fine layer of gray grit that mingles with blood splatter. The figure raises a knife.
“Carter?”
The figure stops, knife poised. “Ben?” the boy whispers. His face collapses into a smile. “Ben!”
Before Ben can figure out what the kid is up to, he finds himself seized in a crushing hug. The act of affection is so foreign that it takes Ben aback. He pats Carter’s shoulder, equal parts horror and appreciation over this open display of affection.
If Carter is at all put off by Ben’s uncomfortable reaction, he doesn’t let it show. “You’re okay!” Carter pounds on his back and shoulder. “We were all worried. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”
“What’s the sit rep?” Ben asks, following Carter through the rubble.
“The what?”
Ben grimaces, realizing again he’s slipping back into a time and place that no longer exists. “What’s the status of our people?”
Carter’s face goes blank. “We don’t know where my mom and Jesus are.”
Colors swim in Ben’s vision. “Where the fuck is Kate?”
“We drove Skip into the library,” Carter explains. “Jesus led the alpha and the pack away to clear the way for us. Mom and I used the beer kegs and some C-4 for explosives. I jumped out of the van while Mom drove it the rest of the way and detonated the bomb.
Ben absorbs this. “Was that Kate’s idea?” he says at last.
“Yeah.”
Of course, it was. Only Kate would think of using beer kegs for bombs to blow up a library. Likely that was her definition of improvising. God, that woman. He isn’t sure if he wants to yell at her or kiss her. Both, if he’s ever lucky enough to get the chance.
“We have to find her.” He marches in the direction of the library, marveling at the swath of destruction cut by the explosions. Any soldier could mistake this place for a Middle East war zone. Carter falls into step beside him while the rest of the group follows a few paces behind.
“I would have stayed with her,” the young man says. “I tried to. She made me get out. You know how she is.”
“You’re a good kid.” Ben has an overwhelming urge to tousle the young man’s head, like he used to do with his own son. He deals with the urge by wrapping both hands around his knife hilts.
This isn’t the first time he’s had to remind himself that Carter isn’t Sam. Sam, his son, is on the other side of the country. With a stepfather who was a much better father than Ben had ever been. He hopes they’re all still alive.
“And yeah, I know how your mom is.” The damn woman is like a starving, third world dog with a bone when she gets an idea. “Is everyone else alive and accounted for?”
“Yeah. Everyone is pretty scraped up, but we’re alive.”
It feels like a miracle. Not that Ben believes in miracles. But considering the fucking shit storm they’d entered less than an hour ago, it’s surprising they didn’t lose more. He’s surprised to find himself relieved that even Caleb made it.
Someone off to their left waves arms in the air. Reed’s afro sends out poofs of dust.
“He found something. Come on.” Carter picks up speed. His long legs eat up the distance, forcing Ben to a jog to keep up with him.
The movement sends a spear of pain through his back. Dammit. He probably pulled some of Kate’s stitches. He bites down on the pain and keeps pace with Carter.
As they near Reed, he spots the rest of their people. Susan looks to be in the best shape out of everyone. Other than blood splatter, she doesn’t appear to have a wound anywhere.
The same can’t be said for the rest of the crew. Caleb, Ash, Johnny, Eric, Reed, and Jenna all look like they’ve been dragged through a gauntlet by their hair. Every last one of them is bloody, bruised, gashed, cut, and limping.
“Look!” Reed points. “Over there in the old quad. By the statue.”
Ben follows the line of his arm.
He spots Kate. Fresh blood runs down several wounds on her body. Her clothes are half torn from her body, revealing flesh that is badly abraded. She can’t seem to walk upright and limps on one leg. She looks like she got run over by a car. Hell, knowing her, she probably jumped out of the minivan while it was still moving.
He pulls ahead of the group, scrambling over debris in his haste to reach her. He pauses only long enough to dispatch any living zombies he passes on his way.
When he’s twenty yards away, he knows something’s wrong. Her shoulders are slumped, her mouth drooping in a sad line.
“Kate?”
She turns, her eyes finding him as he scrambles over the last of the ruins that separates them. He drops down beside her.
He opens his mouth to speak. Before he can utter a word, Kate grabs him in an unexpected hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmurs against his shoulder. “I knew you were too tough and grumpy to die.”
He reflexively pulls her tight, overwhelmed by relief at finding her whole. “It sounds like you did your best to end up on the wrong side of the dirt.”
“I did what had to be done.”
Of course. Kate always lays it all on the line for her kids.
She peels herself free of his arms. He’s reluctant to let her go, but drops his arms as she pushes away. The right side of her face has been scraped raw.
“Jesus is under here,” she says, a hitch in her voice.
Ben had been so consumed with worry for Kate that he hadn’t even noticed Jesus. Two-thirds of the man’s body is buried under rubble and a slab of concrete the size of a bike. His eyes are closed, his face pasty, but he’s still breathing.
That’s when Ben notices another figure. Lithe and dark-haired, she crouches beside Jesus with a plastic bottle of water. She drizzles some of it across his forehead in an attempt to wipe his face clean.
Ben blinks, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. The girl looks like Lila, except she has three automatic rifles over her shoulder, a string of grenades across her chest, and a Sig on either hip. And she’s outside.
“What the fuck?” He stares at her in shock.
Lila grimaces. “I know. About fucking time, right?”
The rest of the group arrives before Ben can form a proper response. Everyone is talking at once.
“Lila?” Eric gapes at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Where’s Jesus? Did you guys find him?”
“Lila, no way!”
“You didn’t mess around with explosives, Mama Bear.”
“Anyone seen Jesus?”
“Quiet.” Kate’s command cuts through the confusion. The grief in her eyes is thick, but she’s holding it together. “Jesus is right here. Everyone, spread out. We need to get this concrete off him.”
The mood sobers as the rest of the group finally sees Jesus. The grief hits them all at once, but Ben sees it hit Reed hardest of all. The young man’s face crumples, his usual upbeat manner squashed by the sight of his friend buried in rubble.
Reed positions himself next the concrete slab. “Come on, guys,” he barks. “On three. One, two, three—”
They heave. The giant piece of concrete is elevated on one side, revealing a body. Ben swallows at the sight of Jesus’s crushed legs. The man groans in pain, his eyes closed.
“Keep pushing,” Carter says.
They heave, tipping the chunk of cement. It thuds over, landing on yet more rubble.
“Mamita.” The voice is weak.
Ben sees the way it hits Kate. The other man’s voice goes through her like a spear, causing her body to jerk and her face to spasm.
“Jesus.” She throws herself to the ground beside him. The rest of them cluster around while she picks up one of his bloody hands. Her other hand comes up to smooth away a chunk of bloody hair.
“You okay, Mamita?” Jesus coughs, pink spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth.
“We’re all okay,” she replies, voice catching. “You’re going to be okay, Jesus. We’re going to get you out of here. We’re going to get you home. Ash is going to sew you up—”
“Mamita.” Jesus raises his free hand.
Even through all the dirt, the bites along his left arm are visible. As Ben studies him, he sees more evidence of zombie bites. Parts of Jesus’s torso bear marks, as well as the right arm Kate holds so fiercely.
“I got those fuckers,” Jesus replies. “That’s what matters.”
Someone sniffles. Ash wipes her eyes. “Eres un héroe,” she whispers.
Jesus tries to smile, but ends up coughing instead. “No te olvides de mí, bonita.”
Ash sniffs again, refusing to look away. She kneels on Jesus’s other side, clinging hard to his free hand.
“My legs hurt,” Jesus says.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Reed whispers, clustering close with Kate and Ash.
They stand around Jesus in a tight cluster. Ben forces himself to watch the life ebb out of the other man. He takes in the grief of those closest to Jesus.
Mostly, he watches Kate. This will be her first big loss, not counting Frederico. But that was different. That was a friend.
Kate’s relationship with everyone in this group is different. She sees herself as their caretaker. Their adopted mother. Jesus may not be her flesh and blood, but for Kate, that won’t lessen the grief.
Ben knows what it feels like to fail people. She’s going to feel like she’s been torn open by a meat grinder. He wants to shield her from the pain. He wishes he could take it all on himself. Instead, all he can do is watch the horror unfold.
“Take St. Roch, little brother.” Jesus drags the bloody pendant from around his neck. “He’ll look after you.”
Reed reaches for the saint with trembling fingers. His hand briefly locks around Jesus’s in a gesture of brotherhood before withdrawing with St. Roch.
“It’s time, Mamita,” Jesus whispers. “Will you do it? Before I turn? I don’t want to be one of those fuckers. Not for a second. It would be an honor to have you do it.”
Ash makes a soft wailing sound.
Kate’s arms begin to tremble. Tears spill down her cheeks. Looking into Jesus’s eyes, she nods.
Ben hates every second of this agonizing moment. He knows exactly what it’s going to do to Kate, but he’s unable to protect her from it.
When Jesus draws his knife and hands it to Kate, Ben thinks he might be sick.
He steps forward. “I’ll do it.” Kate shouldn’t have to say goodbye to Jesus this way. Damn that fucking bastard for asking it of her.
“No.” Kate doesn’t look at him. She only has eyes for the man dying beside her.
She licks her lips as she raises the tip of the knife and places it against Jesus’s temple. Reed turns away, vomiting into the wreckage. Ash stays resolutely beside Jesus.
Kate smiles down at him, smoothing back his bloody hair with one hand. “Rest easy, Jesus.”
“See you again someday, Mamita.”
“See you again someday,” Kate whispers.
Then she jams the knife into his skull.
Ben feels the killing blow all the way to his core. It punches him back to Iraq, to a day when the skies bled black from the burning oil fields. When he held a dead friend in his arms who hadn’t looked all that different from Jesus.
He staggers, nearly crumpling under the weight of the memory.
The world flicks back to the present. Jesus, a knife sticking out from his temple, lies dead. His face is peaceful, the corners of his mouth turned up in a contented smile. He’s gone.
The rest of them are alive, left to carry the weight of shit and devastation.
And then Lila starts to scream.