Chapter Two

Walking across the roof of the apartment, I finally caught my breath. Granted, we still had a ways to go, but at least I hadn't been smashed. TI walked under a tarp that was blowing in the wind, and was momentarily sheltered from the drizzle. A moment later, the tarp tore free of its restraints and blew away, dousing me in an icy splash.

A spotlight played over the roof from a helicopter flying over the area. A voice called, "To anyone who can hear this: proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!" I craned my neck to see the helicopter fly into the distance towards the massive hospital in the distance. Spotlights shined from the roof.

"It looks like the hospital still has power," I said, pointing.

"A generator at least," agreed Bill as he wandered over to the table under where the tarp had been. Obviously the roof had been the point of a last stand for some survivors; a corpse splayed against the wall next to the table, pistol in hand. A set of weapons sat on the table. Bill helped himself to the submachine gun. "Might as well. Poor Betsy didn't make it."

"Betsy?" I echoed.

Louis rolled his eyes. "His M16," he murmured theatrically. "Bill named it."

Francis leaned over the side of the roof, shouldering his shotgun. "Yep. I can see it, under a couple hundred pounds of metal, and about a ton of tank." Francis glanced over at the other three. "Tank's dead, thank God."

"Well we'd better get this show on the road," said Bill. He picked up a bandolier and threw it to Francis. "Load that up with shells. There's a coffee-can with a bunch of ammo here. I, grab some clips. They look to be standard nine millimeter."

I picked up several clips and stuffed them into my pockets. I went to the corpse and carefully unbuckled his holster. After cinching it around my waist and holstering my pistol, I scooped up the pistol that the corpse had in its hand. "We definitely picked the wrong roof," I murmured.

"What do you mean?" asked Louis as he picked up a couple SMG clips from the table.

"We can't get onto the next roof from here. It's too tall," I said, pointing. "In order to get across to the hospital we'll have to walk on the streets and...well," I said with a shaky smirk. "You know what that means."

"Zombies," Bill spat.

"Well, it could be worse. The building could be on fire," said Francis as he went over to a skylight and shined his flashlight through it. "As it is we're just facing some dirty laundry."

"Come on," said Louis. "Let's get moving."

I followed Bill and Louis to the door. They had to force the door; apparently it had been blockaded during the initial outbreak. The stairwell was littered with corpses; some were relatively fresh; others were heavily decomposed. I held my breath as they moved into an apartment kitchen.

"Don't touch anything," Bill murmured. I turned to see Francis staring at a package of toaster pastries in a small pantry. "Might be infected unless it's hermetically sealed."

"But--"

"Relax, wouldja? I'm joking. If it's sealed it should be fine." Bill reached into the closet and snatched a packet of peanuts. "Get something high in protein if you can."

I grabbed a granola bar and tucked it into my back pocket, then wandered towards the living room of the apartment. "What a mess," I said, crouching down near the upturned sofa to examine a wrinkled hand emerging from underneath.

"They don't call it an apocalypse for nothing," said Bill and, though I could hear the disinterest in his voice, something in his eyes and the tightness of his voice told me that he was as disturbed as I was. "C'mon, kid. Let's keep moving."

They made their way down another flight of stairs and into a hallway, occasionally dispatching some undead. The survivors picked their way through the demolished apartment, scrambling over debris. I heard Bill curse and glanced over to where he was standing, hands on hips, at a hole in the floor.

"I'm not a fan of stairs, but ten steps is certainly preferable to one gigantic leap," said Bill. He dropped to sit on the edge of the hole, his legs dangling, then jumped down, landing with a grunt and a roll. "Francis, you next so you can help the kid down."

"I'm fine," I protested, crouching down at the side of the hole.

"No doubt, but if you break your ankle on the way down we'll have to shoot you," said Francis. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder, knelt at the side of the hole, turned around and slowly lowered himself down. The drop was just a few feet. "Unless you can do that, then let me help you."

I sighed and holstered her pistols huffily. "Did you learn pull-ups in the army, or in prison?" I asked as I sat down on the side, my legs swinging in the hole.

"Whichever it was, they didn't teach me how to carry a sassy college girl, so watch your mouth," said Francis with a sly smirk. He reached up; his hands barely brushed my calves. "Ease yourself down. I'll catch you."

I pushed off, releasing my grip. Francis lost his balance as his hands found purchase on her waist; he fell back onto a pile of wet cardboard boxes with a groan. "Thank you, Francis," said I cheerily, apparently oblivious to my position straddling his abdomen. I slowly swung her leg over so that both were on one side and stood up, brushing my knees off. "Are you going to lay around all day?" I asked, offering him a hand up.

"I so missed having a woman around," Francis mumbled to Louis, who had landed effortlessly with all the athletic grace of a jaguar, as the biker stood up.

"This way," called Bill, leading the way through a demolished wall and out the apartment building. We found ourselves in the same alley we had just escaped from, though now with a barrier to keep out tanks and other infected.

"You okay, Bill?" asked Louis. "That was a bit of a drop."

"I'm fine," said Bill impatiently. "Looks like we can head that way."

The trip up the alley was quiet, save for the shuffling of our feet. Occasionally, a whisper of movement was heard behind us, but every time I turned around the alley was empty. "I have a bad feeling about this," I muttered, edging closer to the three men.

"Relax," said Francis firmly. "Don't sweat."

"This is a zombie outbreak, Francis, do you expect--" I began hotly, but Louis cut me off.

"He means it. Don't sweat. Near as we can tell, the infected can smell us. Perfume, soap, shampoo, bodily fluids..." Louis shuddered and shook his head. "They swarm when they smell something different."

We rounded a corner. The alley was jammed with cars and other debris. A few undead caught sight of the movement and began to clamber over the sedan. "Get back," said Bill, raising his weapon. He opened fire, and a roar resounded from beyond the blocked alley. "Shit," he spat. "Sometimes loud noises do it too."

The horde poured over the car, and a scraping sound made me turn to see them piling over a delivery truck to her right. I unsnapped my holster and drew my pistols, beginning to open fire. I tried to be as careful with her shots as possible, but as the zombies dropped to the ground only feet from her, her fingers went on autopilot.

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM! My pistols spat hot lead at the infected. Blood sprayed, corpses fell, casings dropped like so much metallic rain until-- click click click click. I looked down; out of ammo! My fingers trembled as I tossed one pistol into my other hand, holding them both together as I dug in my pockets for magazines.

The zombies advanced. I stepped back gingerly, dropping the two spent magazines quickly. A moment later I jammed the fresh magazines home and raised her pistols--

It happened in an instant. Something grabbed me from behind and pulled powerfully. I stumbled back, then fell, my pistols discarded as my hands wrapped around the thing on her body. It was wet, muscled, and as she struggled with it, it constricted around her, squeezing painfully.

"Help me!" I shouted, coughing. "Please, help!"

It was Louis who turned first, but Francis who came running. I let out a shriek of pain as the tongue constricted around me again; I could feel my spine tingle in pain. Francis, his face a furious mask, launched himself over me and tackled the smoker. Released, I collapsed to the ground, panting. I turned in time to see Francis aim a point-blank blast into the smoker's face with his shotgun.

"She okay?" demanded Louis from his position fighting the horde.

Francis didn't answer. He crouched next to me and helped me up by my hand and elbow. "You okay?" he asked quietly. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded, gulping. "Smoker," he explained. "Where are your guns?"

I looked around; I had dropped them while being dragged across the alley. I allowed Francis to help me to my feet, mumbling, "Thanks, Francis," as I walked over to pick up the pistols.

"No problem. Just do the same for me." He patted my shoulder and we rejoined Bill and Louis, who were finishing up the last of the stampeding horde. "She's okay," he reported to the others.

Bill nodded and scrambled over the car. I followed, putting a foot on the bumper and pulling myself up onto the hood. I stepped over the shattered windshield, trying to ignore the scent of decomposition from within, and then bounced from the trunk to the asphalt on the other side.

Louis and Francis carried up the rear. "What street is this?" asked Louis, glancing to the right. A tall barrier was erected across the road and sidewalk; I could see several zombies shuffling around on the other side among overturned cars. I looked to the otherside to see a flaming tanker truck at an intersection. Louis read the sign, "Holly Street."

"There's a subway station on Holly, isn't there?" I asked. True, I didn't often take public transportation when living with my parents, but I seemed to recall hearing about it.

"Sure thing," Bill said. "Should be just around the corner."

"Do you want to walk out in the open, or come on through here?" Francis asked, hooking his thumb towards a door in the building. "Might be some supplies through here."

"Or zombies," Louis replied.

"I'm going through," said Francis, opening the door. He stepped into the darkness.

I bit my bottom lip and glanced at the other two men. "I'll go with him...just in case," I said and darted in after him. I flipped on my flashlight to see Francis looking through a doorway. "Anything?" I asked.

"Pills," said Francis. He showed me a white bottle before tucking it into his back pocket.

"Can we, like, hurry? It's creepy in here."

"Relax, darlin'. I'm lookin' after you." Francis flashed a smile and came back into the hallway. He studied the vending machine across the hall and said, "Want a soda?"

"I'm good. Let's go," I snapped.

We walked into a receptionist area and I saw Louis and Bill moving through the window. A dull light flashed beyond them, but I couldn't see what it was through the grimy window. Francis looked around the room, his light shining over some shelves. He crossed the room and then tossed me a bottle of pills. "Just in case," he said.

"Uh," I said, studying the bottle by flashlight for a moment. "Ibuprofen, a nice vintage."

"Such fancy words," said Francis. He opened the door and we went back to the sidewalk.

"Anything useful in there?" demanded Bill.

"Not really. Just a couple pills," said Francis. "No clips, no nothin'."

I walked over towards the subway station. "Look, we're almost to the station."

"We need the red line--" started Bill, but he stopped and called, "I, watch out!"

I turned in time to see a shadow land in front of me. I stumbled back, bumping the car that was next to the entrance to the subway. Immediately, the alarm began to shriek. "Oh shit," I gasped, drawing my pistols. The shadow, a hunter I guessed, drew back as if to pounce, but Bill's careful shot killed it handily.

"Here they come," shouted Louis over the growing roar of zombies.

"Get underground," Bill ordered, pointing to the stairwell. Francis grabbed me by the elbow and jerked me away from the car. We were halfway down the stairs when the horde flooded in from the station below us.

We opened fire on the crowd, retreating back up the stairs as necessary until Louis was back-to-back with Bill as the old man battled the horde from the street level. "Let's go, let's go," shouted Louis as his bullets cut through the crowd of zombies. "Come on."

Bill, Francis, and I hurried into the underground. The stairs had been blocked, but a gaping hole in the wall opened into a storage room. A peculiar red steel door stood on the other side. "Saferoom," Francis shouted, and Bill laughed.

"What's a saferoom?" I asked as we dispatched the last remaining undead and crossed the storage room.

"These doors are reinforced to withstand any zombie attack," said Bill, banging the butt of his rifle against the door. It gave a resounding thud. "Before CEDA skipped down, they installed these safe-rooms in places where it would be easy for people like us to hole up and defend ourselves. Usually there's supplies and things in there."

He pulled the door open and gestured for me to enter. I walked in and almost screamed with joy; there was a bathroom on the right. "Oh God," I moaned. "Do you think there's running water?" I asked as Bill shut the door behind us.

"Doubt it but it wouldn't hurt to try," said Francis.

I stepped into the bathroom and turned the handles on the sink. A rusty discharge spluttered from the pipes and I groaned. I knelt down and opened the door under the sink. "Hey guys," I called, reaching in to withdraw a few bottles with rags stuffed in the top. Louis appeared in the doorway. I thrust one of the bottles at him. "Useful?"

"Molotov cocktails," he said with a laugh. He tucked one into his back pocket and offered the other one to Bill.

"No black-powder grenades? Well, this'll do." Bill tucked his molotov away and then went to the desk in the main area of the saferoom. He sat on the corner and said, "Listen up, people. Out that door we'll be, generally speaking, in the Holly Street subway station. We need to take the red line north; the power is off, so we can probably walk on the tracks."

He paused and then looked down. "We've been moving for a few days now, don't know about you, Zoey, but we could use a break. Let's just relax for a few minutes; nothing's going to get in, and we'll go out when we're all ready. Agreed?"

The four survivors agreed and took a seat on whatever they could find. I sat in the corner and hugged my knees to my chest. Even though I was covered in grime, it still felt nice to be close to something warm. I rested my head against my knee and closed my eyes.