Thank you for reading!
Emerging from the elevators, Major and Liv and Clive found the main party room essentially emptied. Bodies lay here and there, and the smell of blood and brains was strong, but nothing moved.
"Everyone's dead," Major whispered. He was surprised not to find any zombies, and equally surprised that most of the victims seemed to have been able to make a run for it.
"Or undead." Liv moved forward, her gun held in front of her, ready to raise and fire at the slightest sound. This silent emptiness was too good to be true. "Watch your backs," Liv added, clearly thinking along the same lines as Major.
On the stage, they found the band members dead, instruments and equipment tumbled around.
"Poor Rob Thomas," Clive said.
"This is how a skull breaks."
Major was studying one of the other bodies. "Hey," he called to the others. "I think I found our ticket to the basement." As they came over to him, he nudged the body's arm with the end of his axe. He recognized the tattoo on it—this guy had clearance to Tacoma.
Liv looked at Clive rather triumphantly, and he rolled his eyes and looked away. Major would never have guessed that Detective Clive Babineaux would be this squeamish. Then again, Major suspected that if he and Liv weren't rolling on Janko brain right now, they'd be a bit more squeamish, too. Maybe not, though. Maybe eating brains gave you a greater comfort with all the dead body parts. He hoped he never again had to find out.
"Heads up," he said to them, and they moved back in time to avoid being spattered with blood when he used the axe to remove the man's hand.
Picking up the hand, Liv clipped it to her belt. She must have sensed some reluctance on Clive's part—and possibly on Major's—because she gave both of them an exasperated look. "A massive zombie outbreak means never having to say you're sorry."
Before either of them could respond, they heard voices to their right. People who were still alive. Clive pulled his gun and was off the stage before Liv and Major could move. They hurried after him, but not fast enough, because within seconds after disappearing from their sight, he was sprinting back into the room, shouting "Move! Move! Move!" at them, with two gibbering Romero zombies chasing him. He shot one in the head and Liv got the other one.
"Clive, get in there," Major shouted, gesturing at the parking garage office, which looked fairly secure. "They're coming after you!"
More zombies were emerging, all of them converging on Clive, who seemed stunned by it all, a sitting duck there out in the open. Liv picked off zombies with precise headshots as they came toward him, and finally Clive shook himself and finished the run for the office. Major swung at an oncoming zombie, taking him down, but the axe lodged in his head, and Major couldn't get it back out again. A big bald zombie was racing toward the door of the office, really booking it. Behind him, Liv shouted, "Major, come on!", and Major abandoned the axe and ran for the office, getting in there just in time to slam the door in the bald zombie's face. He locked the door, grinning at the bald zombie's desperation. The plexiglass panel of the door shook as the zombie banged on it, but it held, as did the rest of the windows. For the moment. But it was only a matter of time. More and more zombies were coming in, making their way toward the office, drawn by the scent of Clive's brain. Probably the last living human brain in the building. Major wondered what had happened to Vaughn du Clark. Had he gotten away, or was he out there somewhere enjoying the fruits of his labors?
Major turned to look at Liv and Clive, who were bracing themselves, ready for one or all the zombies to come through the windows, guns at the ready.
"This is why I self-park," he said to them. "How many more rounds of ammo we have left?"
Clive dug in his pocket, bringing out a single clip and staring at it bleakly. "Not enough."
"Any signal?" Liv asked.
Holding up his cell phone, Clive glared at it, then shook his head. So, no calling for help.
The volume was increasing outside as the population of hungry zombies grew.
"These windows aren't long for this world," Clive pointed out, just as a grate in the ceiling broke and a zombie fell through it. Turning, Clive and Liv both shot it. Clive shook his head. "Not the most efficient use of our bullets."
Major looked up into the vent shaft the zombie had come through. "We've been breached. There's no way to close this up." He looked at the others. "Look, more are going to find this way in."
"I've got six rounds left," Liv said.
"I've got three, but only two for them." Clive gestured at the dead zombie. Catching the meaning behind his statement, Major and Liv both looked at him in surprise. "No way I'm getting eaten alive," he told them.
Liv gave Major a stricken look, but he didn't see any other way out of this for Clive. And he wouldn't have wanted to become zombie food while still alive, either, so he sympathized.
"There's another option," Liv said. "I could scratch you."
Clive gestured with the gun at the mindless brain-eaters banging on the windows. "And, what, I turn into one of them?"
"Not one of them."
"One of us," Liv clarified.
Clive looked at both of them, clearly not liking either of his options, but too polite to say so.
Time passed. More zombies came through the ceiling. More bullets expended. God, Major wished he hadn't lost the axe.
Another zombie poked its head through. Liv shot it, and it fell onto the growing pile of other zombies who had tried for Clive's brain and failed.
"Clive," Liv said, staring at her gun in distress, "that was my last round." He, too, looked down at the gun, his eyes wide and fearful. "We don't have enough time or ammunition to argue about this," she told him. "I need to scratch you."
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll stick with my original plan."
It seemed foolish to Major to court death that way, but he remembered when Liv had scratched him to save his life wishing she hadn't, so he could sympathize with Clive's point of view. Still … he didn't really want to watch a good man die if he didn't have to.
Then, before either he or Liv could argue with Clive's resolve, they heard gunshots outside. Lots of gunshots. And zombies started falling away from the windows. Outside the office, he saw the woman Vaughn du Clark had been talking to at the party. She was mowing down zombies with gusto, shouting at them as she did so.
"Come on," she shouted, trying to draw out more zombies. "Get some!"
"Who the hell is that?" Major asked.
Cautiously, they emerged from the office. As Major retrieved his axe, Clive approached the woman. "Uh … thank you?"
"Vivian Stoll, Fillmore Graves Enterprises.
"Clive Babineaux, Seattle PD. This is Liv Moore from the Medical Examiner's office."
"You're gonna be a busy girl," Vivian Stoll observed.
Since the introductions seemed to have been stopped before they got to him, Major added his name. He added "personal trainer", but felt a little awkward about it, given the more impressive credentials of his companions.
Vivian Stoll looked him over, but then she turned her gaze back to Liv and Clive. "Guess those reports about Max Rager causing manic episodes were true."
"Looks that way," Clive agreed. "We were out of ammo. You got here in the nick of time."
"I'm the new owner here. Starting to think I overpaid." She looked around her at the carnage. "We should go."
"We think there may be more survivors down below," Liv told her.
"We're gonna check it out."
Vivian Stoll looked from Clive to Liv, her eyes settling on the dismembered hand at Liv's belt. "Right. Okay. Well, good luck. I'm going to head up to the gate and call for reinforcements." From her waistband, she withdrew two more guns, holding them out butt-first. "Take these."
"What about you?" Liv asked.
She took two more guns from the front ofher waistband and the inside pocket of her jacket.
"Think you're gonna need both of those?" Major asked.
Giving him a look, she handed him one, then turned her back and headed off into the fray. Hell of a woman, he thought. He bet she'd be a lot more fun to train than Vaughn du Clark.