A few seconds later, the feed finally cut off. The Fox News logo appeared on the screen, along with the standard words. "WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULITES. PLEASE STAND BY." Some guy in Washington had finally found the right guy in New York City to scream at, and someone flipped a switch or pulled a plug. But by this point, the damage had already been done.
Boomerang had flopped back down into his chair. His eyes were wide with shock, just staring at the TV screen. I remembered that I was rubbing my face, fingers going over my chin again and again, trying to comprehend what I had just seen. My mind was sliding tumblers, going over the events of the evening with a lockpick. It made sense...but I didn't want to admit. It was too over the top, even for all the stuff this city had seen. I kept putting mental crime tape over everything, just sealing it off and telling the rest of my mind "nothing to see here."
It took Rhino to charge right through it.
"Herman, did Nick Fury just say the word 'zombie?'"
After a few seconds, I responded. "Yeah, Aleksei. He did."
"Ah, CHRIST!" Boomerang had his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth. "You have...this has to be a joke, or something. Zombies? The living dead? Come on!" He looked up at me in confusion. "I mean...Mysterio. This has to be one of his tricks, or some kind of prank. Squibs and stunt work, right?"
I found myself shaking my head, remembering the way the Wrecker's face had looked before being shredded by bullets. "That'd have to be one hell of a trick for Beck to pull off, man. The whole world? No, that's way above anything he's ever done."
"No, Herman. No way." The Australian ran a hand through his short brown hair, eyes wide. "Impossible."
Really? Aliens, magic, demons, symbiotes, mutants, Hollywood special effects, Boomerang could believe. The living dead, though, was something he just couldn't grasp his mind around.
Myself? I had just watched a SHIELD soldier try to stand up and walk without the benefit of a digestive system. The scientist's face, covered in blood. And one of the toughest, strongest, roughest villains I knew put down, for good, with a bullet to the eye, and the coup de grace was delivered by a legitimate World War II hero. The tumblers were sliding in my head. It made sense. After everything I had seen tonight, the concept of dead people lurching around, going after people and having them for dinner?
It clicked.
Rhino reached for the remote control. "Aleksei," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"I want to see what CNN's saying." He went back down a couple of channels, back the anchor we had originally be watching.
"...losing our feed to SHIELD HQ." The anchor was staring into the camera, his mouth working a bit, but he struggled to find something to say, disbelief and confusion evident on his face. "Um...we'd like to...apologize...for that footage we just aired, ladies and gentlemen, and for its graphic content. Um...as soon as we get an official word from Washington about Colonel Fury's use of the word...we'll be sure..." He stopped for a moment, eyes leaving the camera. All that time being taught to read the teleprompter, and now without it, faced with something absolutely extraordinary, the guy with the $1000 haircut couldn't string together a simple sentence. It wasn't too hard. Folks, we just saw Nick Fury shoot three people live on national television, and apparently, the unburied dead are returning to life, seeking human victims. Easy.
But in the face of this crisis?
"We'll be right back."
And they cut away.
Even during 9/11, they didn't cut away. When the Avengers and the Secret Avengers were going at it hammer and tongs a few summers ago, they didn't cut away. Hell, the cameraman who caught Captain America's order to stand down did it from a distance of 10 feet! Now, though...a Hyundai commercial, for their new hybrid, played on CNN.
"Aleksei, check MSNBC." He obliged. Commercial. CNBC? Commercial. Headline News? Commercial. A quick look at CBS and NBC also showed commercials, and the local Fox station was showing the same "TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES" sign that Fox News had.
"Man, they worked fast," I murmured as Aleksei went to check ABC...
"...exclusive footage, Charles, and it's just...I can't begin to describe what I'm seeing here right now."
I sat up, eyes drawn instantly to the screen. Out of all the networks, somehow, ABC hadn't gone to commercial. The TV was showing a shot of a city street, from above. It took me a few seconds, but I realized, once I heard the sounds of the blades, that a helicopter was hovering over a street somewhere. When the voice spoke again, I immediately recognized who it was: Stephanie Andrews, traffic reporter for ABC 7.
"Charles, if you can hear me, I'm currently above Desgrosses and Greenwich Streets in Lower Manhattan...and the scene below me could be a perfect example of Hell on Earth."
The helicopter was low, maybe 30, 40 feet of the ground. The camera panned slowly from the left to the right, doing its best to show us each side of the street and the intersection. Just after where Desgrosses crossed Greenwich going towards the river, two cars and an SUV were tangled together. The SUV's grill had plowed into the side of one of the cars, and the other car had slammed into the back of the SUV. Gathered around the cars were five, maybe ten people, right up against the metal of the automobiles. Maybe ten more bystanders, moving slowly towards the crash, lurched up Greenwich Street. Nearby, a small crowd huddled together on the ground, hunched over. Their backs blocked the view of the street.
"The crash occurred a few minutes ago, Charles, as one of the cars ran a red light and was T-boned by the light truck sitting down there. Almost immediately, a crowd began to gather, coming from the nearby stores and alleyways. The driver of the blue car pulled himself from the wreckage..." Stephanie's voice broke for a second, but quickly recovered. "The crowd assaulted the driver as he stumbled from the scene. He made it a few feet before four or five of them overwhelmed him and pulled him to the ground. The rest of the crowd closed in on the cars, and have trapped the passengers inside. We can see the crowd banging on the glass from up here, Charles...and if what Colonel Fury said is true, then the safety of the passenger is indeed in question."
"Herman." Rhino nudged me gently with a broad shoulder. "Isn't that where the 7-11 is?"
He was right. There was a 7-11 on Desgrosses, where I got my munchies and late-night, post-crime-spree snacks, ten, maybe fifteen minutes from the warehouse. Easily within walking distance...or lurching distance.
"Someone's coming out!" On screen, the driver's door to the rear car had opened. The person inside shoved the door against the mob, trying to force it. Two guys stumbled backwards, knocked to the ground, and whoever it was tried to pull themselves out of the car. I couldn't make anything out other then long black hair. They tried to move away from the car, but the things pushed back against the door. Three forms shoved back, and whoever it was ended up pinned against the frame, trapped by the door. Even while airborne, over the sounds of the helicopter's blades cutting through the air, the microphone picked up the faint sounds of high pitched screaming.
One of the things on the ground had gotten back up. It reached out, and grabbed a hold of the driver's long black hair. The screaming got more audible as his or her head got yanked to the side. He or she put an arm out to try to get leverage...and two of the guys pinning them to the car immediately grabbed it. I could make out their heads lowering just before the crowd converged on the passenger, a mass of hands reaching in and obscuring them from view.
"Oh my God," I heard Stephanie mutter. "Charles...oh, God..."
The camera stayed focused on the scene for a few seconds, but when the passengers in the SUV made a break for it, the shot thankfully switched. The mob, it seemed, had been distracted by the screaming passenger from the rear car enough that whoever was in the SUV decided to run for it. The passenger side door flew open, and a figure climbed out. One of the nearby forms lurched for him, but the guy from the SUV shoved him away. Right behind, another person got out of the SUV, this one with blonde hair.
You could see it, from above. The crowd just...shifted. It was like watching a flock of geese change course in mid-flight. Almost instantly, they stopped moving for the SUV, and started going for the pair who had escaped the SUV. Arms reached, heads turned, and legs moved, in that order. The pair wove their way through seven or eight of those things, easily avoiding them, but everywhere they turned, another one seemed to pop up. If I moved my eyes from one of them, whenever I glanced back, two more had popped up. From the alleys, from other storefronts, and from Greenwich and Degrosses, they flowed, maybe ten more showing up in the time it took for the couple to complete their brief journey.
"Charles...they made their escape...and it looks like they're seeking refuge in a convenience store...and...and the crowd is still attacking that passenger...I...I can hear her screaming still..."
"Christ," Fred said in a low voice. "They're screwed."
I couldn't tell you, at the time, why I did what I did. At the time, I just did it.
No thoughts of glory, or the key to a city, or even a "Lewinsky" from the blonde. One second, I was sitting on the couch, watching ABC. The next, I was grabbing my vibro-smashers from the recharging station on the workbench.
"Herman?" Fred watched me from the chair as I slid them on. "What are you doing?"
The vibro-smasher for my right hand is the first one I put on. I pushed the trigger with my free hand. The small vibrations that buffeted my hand indicated that it was functioning properly. "That's four blocks from here, ten minutes, maybe seven if I run." I locked the glove on my hand and wrist, twisting to click it home. "7-11's are pretty secure. If they lock the door and shove some stuff to block it off, I can make it there before those things bust inside."
"You're...you're crazy, mate!" Boomerang shook his head in amazed bewilderment. "You're actually going to go out there and fight through a herd of...a herd of bloody zombies?"
"They'll be distracted trying to break in," I rationalized. I was repeating the process with my other hand, locking and initializing my weapons. "I don't have to deal with all of them, just the ones in my way. I can outrun them, and if I clear a path, so can the people inside the store."
"Again, you're bloody crazy!"
Maybe. But at the time...I didn't think I was crazy. Insane, maybe, a little voice screeched at the back of my mind. The rest of me? No way was I going to sit on a couch, grill a steak, and drink beer while, four blocks away, people were being attacked, mobbed...and probably eaten. Four blocks. No way.
I turned away from the workbench to look at my friends. Rhino was sitting on the couch, still watching the scene on television. Fred had gotten up at some point in the process. "Herman..."
"Yeah," I heard myself saying in response. "But I'm going." I studied my friend up and down. He was shaking his head in disbelief, watching me get ready to possibly go commit suicide on national television...though with my luck, they'd probably lose the feed and come back just in time to watch Spider-Man or someone swoop in and save the day while also arresting me for breaking and...
Damn it, Herman. Too much time thinking, not enough time moving.
I was heading towards the warehouse's main entrance when Rhino stood up from the couch. The furniture sighed in relief as the massive Eastern European rolled his neck as best he could in his bonded armor. "It'll be faster if I carry you, Herman," he said, walking over to meet me.
"Aleksei, you don't..." I started to say.
"Do you think I'm going to sit here and watch you break into a 7-11 all by yourself? Besides, you need someone to watch your back."
I didn't show how relieved I was that Aleksei had decided to join me. What I was doing was stupid, like "going 12 rounds with the Lizard" stupid. No way was I going to ask Boomerang and Rhino to join me and risk their lives...but having a 700 pound walking tank beside me bettered the odds.
I slapped Rhino on the arm in gratitude, before turning to Boomerang. I knew Fred, and I knew the answer before I asked the question. "Fred, you coming?"
"HELL NO!"
The forcefulness of his reply actually made me laugh, the sound of joy echoing through the warehouse. "You're the sane one of the trio then. Alright, you hold down the fort and close the door behind us. If you need to activate the security system, the code's 461967."
"Whatever...just don't get yourself killed. Crazy bloomer..." Boomerang muttered. He walked back to the couch and plopped down, eyes on the TV which still showed the feed from ABC. "And close the damn door behind you."
Rhino and I walked to the small man-sized...well, Rhino-sized after a few mishaps...door to the side of the massive sliding loading door for the warehouse. You might think we were walking with purpose, with power, a cocky, arrogant walk you'd see guys like Bullseye or Johnny Storm pull off, like two gods who were about to wade into the heart of darkness and bitch slap a couple of corpses for violating the laws of nature.
Well, friends, the only thing that was going through my mind was how many beers I had drank that evening and hoping I didn't end up pissing in my costume, either from fear or from having broken the seal. That would have been great, especially on live television. It had happened once to Stilt-Man. Poor guy. At his wake, we were still telling that story while toasting his memory...
No time for a bathroom break now, though. I pulled my mask over my head, securing it tightly around my neck. A few deep breaths through the fabric to acclimate. Gloves on. Suit's powered up.
"Let's go, Aleksei."