Among the Living (41 page)

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Pioneer Square is just ahead, and it is relatively clear of people. The ‘park’ has a notorious history of brawls and feuds spilling onto the street from one of the countless bars that surround it. There is also beauty here, with its Victorian Romanesque architecture, art galleries and tourist attractions like the Seattle Underground.

Some cars have had to pull over in the spaces close to the firemen statues. We are running catty corner to the roads in an attempt to cut our route short when a pair of deaders appears. I stop, raise my gun and shoot one. With the next shot, my hammer clicks on empty, and I have to drop back to figure out how the release works.

I’m glad I watched the other soldiers change magazines earlier, because it probably saves my life. I drop the magazine, fumble around in my ammo belt and find one the same size. It goes in with a satisfying click, and I am ready to be a warrior again. I take aim and drop the first one at eight feet. Then I shift my aim and miss the second one. He is almost to me when I put a bullet in his forehead and he slams to the ground at my feet.

Behind us, the deaders close in. The guy with long hair comes across a body curled up around the statues. The dead man is missing the top of his head. There is a gun barrel on his shoulder, and the means of his demise becomes apparent. Undaunted, the longhaired guy picks it up and tests the weight in both hands. He fiddles with it until he can point it at the approaching deaders. Then he raises the big gun to his shoulder and fires.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims as recoil smashes the gun into his shoulder and the deader falls away with a hole the size of a small saucer in his chest. He jacks a pump under the barrel and fires again.

Kate goes into ninja mode, sweeping the sword around her in a deadly arc. She moves one way, and the sword always seems to be in a different place from her momentum. She weaves among them with grace, dances around them, leaving nothing but body parts behind. I wonder if the things feel pain. She takes an arm off near the shoulder, and the kid doesn’t seem to react. He just watches it drop, then renews his attack. She is already behind him, and her smaller sword finds the back of his head. She is silent except for an exhale that sounds like the word ‘sigh’ spoken out loud. He is also silent as he falls backwards, red eyes already glazed and staring at the sky.

The deaders grab for her hands, reach for her clothes, but they are more apt to lose an appendage than to get a piece of her. She falls back to us, and we fire into the disorganized mess of people.

There is blood everywhere, and the stench of the things is unbearable. It’s like we stumbled into a fish market devoid of cooling. We are slowly pushed back toward the statue. We surround it even as the deaders surround us. The young guy drops down and paws through the dead man’s clothes before coming up with a handful of shells. “Fucking party time,” he exclaims and loads the gun.

“Had one of these in a video game once, but this is so much better.” Then he raises the barrel and starts shooting again, great booming blasts that tear into the mob. The wind ripples over us, and it carries the smell of death. How comforting, I think, knowing we will likely join them soon. I wonder if it will hurt when I change.

Erin is at my side and going through the belt pockets before she finds what she needs. She leans close to my ear as she slams one of the magazines into the handgun and brushes her mouth across my ear, sending chills up and down my spine despite the danger we are facing. Then her voice is a whisper as it penetrates my mind, the words she offers simple and somehow surreal.

“I love you.”

I look at her and mouth the same as the kid fires again, the blast wiping out my words. She has tears in her eyes as she looks past me at the wave of deaders.

Behind us are more of the things, an ocean that stretches as far as I can see. They are dragging individuals out of crowds and devouring them alive. Screams echo across the square, and I wonder how mine will sound when it joins them. I’m furious that I won’t be able to protect Erin, much less myself. I feel helpless, and I want to scream at the injustice.

Kate is pressed back by the mob. She turns and swipes her short sword across one guy’s neck. He is dressed in a black leather jacket with no sleeves. Then she drives the longer sword into someone’s chest and kicks him back.

“Wish I had a couple of fucking frags right about now,” the National Guard woman screams, and then one catches her by the arm and pulls her into the press of deaders. Her screams aren’t cries of pain, but rather a constant stream of swear words as she fights tooth and nail. There are tearing noises and she falls silent.

“What now?” Erin howls. I don’t have an answer. I fire as fast as I can at as many as I can, but their numbers don’t end. This is truly our last stand. After all we have seen today, to die like this so close to our goal seems like such a waste.

Erin puts her arm around my waist as I fire the last shot and prepare for the end. I bash one of the deaders in the face and am given a shower of cold blood for my effort. He is a tall man in his fifties with teeth spread too far apart. I knock a bunch of them out, and his nose squishes under the gun. Then he is falling away only to be replaced by a woman who howls as she reaches for Erin.

A horn sounds as a giant SUV comes barreling down Main Street. It slides onto a sidewalk, smashing into a couple of deaders that stand in its path. Then, like a four-ton angel, the car crashes into the group surrounding us and knocks them down like bowling pins. The SUV is black and beat to hell. The driver stares around like he is lost. He takes in his surroundings, and I can tell he is about to drive off again. He looks at Erin and the girl with the sword and seems to reach some sort of conclusion. The door locks sound, and he lowers the power window.

“Get the fuck in!”

The kid with long hair is the first one. He dives across the console, calling “fucking shotgun.” Kate is next and jumps in with her swords crossed and at her lap. Erin is between me and the door, but she pushes me as if I were the obstacle. Rather than swap places with her and have both of us fall prey to the monsters, I jump in the car and haul her toward me. I toss the machine gun over my shoulder into the back of the big car.

Erin’s hand is in mine, her foot on the runner. I slide over, pulling her as I move so she will be pressed close to me in the seat. I can feel the driver shifting into reverse. She glances behind as I draw her into the rear of the car. Our friend the female National Guard, whose name I never got, comes toward us, and Erin looks at her in shock. Then she motions with her hand and yells, “Come on!”

“No!” I yell, echoed by Kate.

Erin is snatched away by the woman. One second she is there, and then her big emerald eyes meet mine in horror and she is gone. She screams my name, but the car is already moving. I make a move to jump out of the car, to go after her, but Kate grabs my arm and slams me into the seat. The car whips around and plows over some of the deaders. The centrifugal force slams the door shut but not before one of them reaches inside. I grab the first thing I can, which is Kate’s sword, and jam it into the mother fucker’s face with all my strength. I howl in frustration and pain as I rip the sword free, then the door shuts and I sit with the bloodied blade in my lap.

Kate takes the sword back from me and pats my hand, but she doesn’t say anything. The driver keeps looking in the rearview mirror, trying to catch my eye. He does once, and he nods at me.

“I know how you feel, brother.”

How can the shaggy-haired guy who looks like he hasn’t showered in a week know how I feel? I want to tell him to shut up, but inside I am grateful to him for saving us.

“The football field, man. That’s where we’re going. They said it is safe there,” the long-haired guy says.

“That’s what brought me here, dude. I ran into a Humvee by accident, and the driver said to hurry here, so I took every fucking back alley I knew,” the driver says. “My name’s Lester, by the way.”

“I’m Grinder, or I was. My real name is Duane, but don’t let that shit get out.”

“Kate,” Kate shoots back but doesn’t say anything else.

“I’m Mike,” I finish with little feeling.

“Mike, man, I feel your pain. My woman was ripped out of my arms, right out of them, not even an hour ago. Those fucking things. First thing I’m going to do when we get in there is find a gun and take the fight to them. I’m going to kill me an ocean of those monsters.”

“Beautiful, man.” Duane mutters.

He steers onto a sidewalk and runs over a couple of deaders. They smash off his giant grill and rebound into the street and walls. He seems to be aiming at some of them, which suits me just fine.

“Well we are a fine bunch,” Kate says as we drive the two blocks to the stadium. There are people all over the street. He takes an alley, through which we barely fit. The big car scrapes a pair of dumpsters, then we are through and the fence is just ahead. There are National Guards everywhere, so it seems safe to get out.

We hit the ground, and I feel faint. I look toward Pioneer Square, where Erin died, and I wonder if she is one of them now. I feel a sense of loss, much like the day I lost Andy. I feel old, used up, broken. Kate swings around the side of the car and approaches me. She has her swords in hand, but her eyes betray nothing.

“Mike, I know it sucks, but we have work to do. We’ve all survived tragedy, but right now we need to get inside, regroup and then see what tomorrow brings. So are we all going to go in there together, or do we need to drag your ass in?”

Nothing comes to mind, no sharp riposte. I stare at Kate and her empty eyes, and I want to slap her. What does she know of pain and loss? What can she possibly know? But I surprise myself by stepping toward her and extending both my arms. She looks at them as if they are vipers and then into my eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she steps close and returns my embrace. I feel her crack, and one single sob escapes her body. Then she steps back, careful with the sharp blades in her hand. Her eyes are clear; no hint of emotion shows.

“What the fuck kind of name is Grinder?” Lester turns to the kid with long hair.

“It’s my stage name. I’m the lead singer for Corpse for a Day.”

“What an appropriate name,” I mutter, and with my new companions, I follow the line leading into the stadium.

Kate stares at the man who dared to touch her as if she were some delicate flower. He is having a shitty day, but so are all of them. She has the urge to pull her short sword and drive it through his chest. She clenches her teeth and grinds them together. Rage builds up, and her hand trembles on the leather-wrapped pommel that is sticky with blood.

But is it Mike she wants to hurt? Or herself? What did she do back there? It was like she was another person for a few hours. It was like she was the other and herself at the same time. The other, who has never really explained herself to Kate. The thing that has grown and grown, the monster she ignores. She is pretty sure that a psychologist would love to lock her up and study her for a few years. Poke and prod and learn about her schizophrenia. Only it’s not many personalities in one, it is just her—and the other, and she is all too aware of the other’s existence.

She could turn away from that side of herself. She could change and become one person if she so desired. But she doesn’t, and now she has a new lease on life. She can kill and kill and soak in a river of blood. She can takes lives, and no one will ever look at her twice.

Kate’s old life is over. She will leave it behind just as she planned to leave it if she were ever in danger of being caught. She will become one with the other and learn a new life. And she will live for as long as she can.

Her new companions are nothing to her, a means to an end. A way to escape the horror so she can fight another day. As soon as she can, she will be on her own again.

She sees tears in Mike’s eyes. She frowns at him and considers putting him out of his misery. Hell, she could put down all her fellow survivors. No one would know the difference. Just a quick slash and two stabs. They would all join the deaders in a matter of seconds, and she would be free to move on.

Kate releases the death grip on her sword and raises her hand to eye level. It shook a moment ago as rage flooded her. Now it is calm and steady, cool and controlled. Just like her. Just like the other.

Cold, and so are they.

Night fell like a curtain, and when the power finally came back on, there was an audible cheer from the stadium as if a game were in full swing.

The survivors huddled, talked, cried and expressed their anger at what had become of their city. Some crept out at night to rescue loved ones, some sat alone and stared into the fire barrels. Some plotted and planned their next move. The Army proper would arrive soon, and they would be in full riot mode, putting down anything that resembled an infected.

Kate, Grinder, Lester and Mike made an odd group. Gathered around a tiny fire, they talked late into the night. Food was fetched, drinks were filched, and at some point Lester, the shaggy-haired one, broke out a joint and all partook.

They spoke to each other in hushed tones while they waited for morning. When most were asleep or walking around glumly, a black guy whom Mike recognized came upon the group and sat down next to him. Mike greeted him as ‘Nelson,’ and the two shook hands like they were old pals.