Authors: Alan Spencer
“My apartment building,” Stan said, fighting tears, but at this point, his nerves and emotions were skinned raw. “Angie was strangled to death. Not with a rope, or hands, Billy. It was something else. Her neck had snapped in three places. And her eyes, fucking Christ, they’d popped out of the sockets. The pressure caused her skull to explode. That’s the last image I have of my wife.
Goddamn them
.”
Billy hugged him. This time Stan’s barrier collapsed, and he wept. “She’s gone forever, Billy. Nothing's bringing her back.”
Jessica stepped in, patting his back and consoling him. “But you’ve saved a lot of lives tonight, Stan. There’s something good.”
“The only thing good tonight,” Stan sighed, wiping his tears and forcing a tough face. “And that’s if whoever’s killing everyone doesn’t pay our emergency camp a visit. It's the last shelter in Chicago.”
Billy stayed with Jessica for the duration of the ride. She cradled his hands. “What do you think happened to Nelson?”
“They’re fine,” Billy quickly answered with an awkward smirk. “Dr. Aorta’s with him.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Dr. Aorta isn’t real.”
“If you’d talked to those corpses on the fifth floor, you would believe it. We have no choice but to believe it.”
“What about that address?”
“Shit. I forgot it. Dr. Aorta nabbed the slip of paper. I can’t remember what road that apartment building was on for the life of me. I guess running from the flytrap heads and the five hundred-foot hooker jarred loose that information.”
“Then what do we do?” Jessica’s nerves were frazzled. “I’m playing devil’s advocate here because my eyes trump common sense. A projector is playing reels of old horror movies in some dude’s apartment, ghosts inhabited them, and the movies are coming to life. And we can’t do a damn thing to stop them because you’ve forgotten the address,” Jessica snapped. “We’re losing air, I’ve almost been killed a handful of times, and now we’re running again from certain death.”
“It wasn’t my fault I lost the address,” Billy fired back at her. “Dr. Aorta took the slip of paper.”
“I would’ve memorized it.” Jessica shifted from his hold. “And saved our lives—a whole city’s worth of lives.”
Billy rubbed his aching head. It was difficult to shift with his broken rib. “Let’s hope Nelson and Dr. Aorta arrive at the address. Something has to go our way tonight. It's our only hope.”
Stan approached them as the subway came to a gradual halt. “Okay kids, we’re here. Let's go topside.”
Stan rushed the subway stairs with a pistol raised. Billy and Jessica were instructed to hold back behind him. The other officers flanked each side of him with shotguns and rifles and flashlights. Navy Pier was unrecognizable; the tourist trap, the pride of Chicago second to their deep dish pizza, had fallen into decimation. The Ferris wheel was shut down and the shops were used as shelter for citizens, mainly mothers and their children. The street didn’t end or begin, but instead, a wood blockade was set up two blocks from the Navy Pier entrance. The rest of the shops were shut down along the boardwalk. Carnival-sized tents displaying a red cross were spread out, a dozen by Billy’s count. Ambulances and police vehicles reinforced the simple blockade. Officers stood in a line armed with steel batons and shields. Vans and other vehicles also created a barricade.
The officers were panting and covered in sweat. Billy had to help Jessica up the last few steps. She was gasping for breath, weak from the night of terror. The air was even thinner than before. Billy felt like he was breathing underneath a blanket. Grit covered his throat, and every so often, he coughed.
There were no words for what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours. A city had been slaughtered and picked off by B-movie monsters! He didn’t bother leveling with Stan. Nobody would believe what he learned from Andy Ryerson. Stan and the police would be stuck on terrorists dressed up in evil costumes instead of the outlandish truth.
Through the blockades, a group of medical orderlies whisked Jessica toward the pier. The woman at the lead checked the skies and streets, while saying, “Come with us, ma’am. We’ll take a look at you. Check you over and make sure you're not critically injured.”
“What about Billy? He's more busted up than me.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Billy said. “I have a few questions to ask Stan first.”
Stan jumped at his name. The body could put up a strong front, but not the eyes, Billy thought. The man was terrified, beyond sleep and downtrodden to the point of giving up.
Billy kissed Jessica before she was taken away. “I’ll be right there, honey. This is important.”
She understood and turned to follow the orderlies. They offered her a wheelchair, but she declined. Billy watched her until she vanished behind the blockades.
Stan smoked a thick cigar. “Billy, I’m just a cop. This takeover is beyond my qualifications. This is the goddamn apocalypse. I don't know what you want from me.”
“Hey, I’m a meter-man, for fuck’s sake. Whatever’s out there, we’re on our own. Terrorists or real-life monsters, setting this base up isn’t going to stop them. Have any of them come here yet and attacked?”
“No.” Stan flicked an ash and sneered. “We can’t beat them, whoever they are. I'm just being honest. Think about it. They're monsters. Goons. Camel jockeys—whatever, we’re headed straight for the grave at the rate we're going.”
This wasn’t the pep talk he’d anticipated, but Billy understood the man’s resignation. He kept his head low, unsure of what else to say, when Stan said, “I told you about my wife, but I didn't tell you my daughter was also killed. No, not killed.
Destroyed
. A fist punched through our apartment building, and a giant hand—I shit you not—grabbed her and just squeezed the life out of the poor girl. I was lucky to escape the building in time before the entire place collapsed. Ninth Street, hell, the whole Corporate District is just about smashed.” The words came out deadly serious. “And it was a giant who did it. A giant woman.”
“I’ve seen her,” Billy said. “This is real, Stan, not terrorists. That would be too easy an explanation. Shoot them dead and wash your hands of them. But it's not happening this time. These are, well, supernatural.”
“What are you saying? Do you really believe in monsters?”
“I believe in the dead speaking to me.” He had to tell Stan. He was the closest to someone he could trust. “Dead bodies talked to me. They said this is ghosts at work.”
It finally struck Billy, and he grabbed Stan by the coat and demanded, “You have to take me to those medical tents. I must see the dead bodies. Anyone dead, I have to see them.”
Stan’s expression went from confused to offended. “Billy, it’s been a long night for the both of us, but if you’re saying—”
Billy skipped the arguing. He charged through the lines, shuffling between car bumpers, police officers rigidly standing in place, and shuffled down a flight of concrete steps onto the pier. Stan was shouting after him. Billy opened the first tent he came upon. Cots and stretchers held victims under blankets, many attached to I.V.s. Everyone inside was alive.
An orderly eyed him angrily. “Sir, if you’re looking for a loved one, you’re going to have to wait. This is an emergency situation, and I can only do so much at a given time…"”
Billy moved on to another tent, but before he could poke his head inside, Stan restrained him and shook him angrily. Billy’s ribs flared up, and he grunted at the surge of pain.
“Billy, you’re a good kid, but you’re talking about crazier things than what’s happening out there. Talking to the dead, Billy, I…I don’t know what to say.”
Billy understood. “You think this is crazy, but it’s not.”
He wasn’t sure what else to say. They stood in silence for a moment. Billy eyed the dark waters of Lake Michigan just beyond them. He didn't have a plan or the answers, but he had hope again when he caught sight of the tent four down and three over from them. He noticed two EMTs wheel in a body bag through the flaps.
A force inside Billy propelled him to the tent. He wormed out of Stan’s hold. Stan shouted after him, “I’m shoving your ass in jail. You're making me do it, Billy!”
“Maybe I’ll be safer in prison than this excuse of a base!”
Billy shot through the open flaps, shoving aside the EMTs who were halfway through advising him to stay out. This tent was larger than the others. He stamped through puddles of blood. The stench of the freshly dead, the way grocery store beef smelled after removing the cellophane packaging, struck him. The body bags were stacked like cordwood. Rows fifty long and six high filled the tent. His eyes kept scanning the room, unable to take it all in at once.
I have to do this.
Either I’m crazy, or I’m right.
Damn it, I saw what I saw.
Andy Ryerson talked to me.
“Andy, where the fuck are you?” Billy shouted at the bodies. “Talk to me. Shout, say something—HELP ME OUT! I FORGOT THE DAMN ADDRESS YOU GAVE ME!”
He spun around and around in search of a talking body. Any second now, Stan would burst through the front flaps, cart him out of the tent and lock him up. Jessica would be alone without him. Andy Ryerson shared something with him that could potentially save the city, and he fucked it up.
You have to keep trying.
Billy knelt. His knees absorbed the blood through his jeans. He unzipped the nearest body bag. A young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, stared back at him. Her eyes were open wide in death, her chalky white face untouched. It was her midsection that was damaged. From the sternum down to the navel, a slit gleamed with what he thought to be internal organs, but it was actually apple filling.
He pressed his shirt up to his nose. The ripe scent of the corpse and tart apples repulsed him. Stan seized him from behind and drove him into the floor. “My patience is worn thin! I’m sorry, Billy, but I’m detaining you. We’ve set up a temporary jail in the Abercrombie and Fitch store.”
How appropriate.
The argument refused to die in Billy. He fought off Stan's hold. He shouted at the body bags, “Talk to me, please. Andy—any ghosts, you have to help us! We don’t stand a chance against the monsters without you!”
Three other officers entered after hearing the commotion. “What the hell is this pervert trying to do in here?”
They aimed their service revolvers at him.
“Put your guns down,” Stan insisted. “He’s stressed. Out of his head, but harmless.”
Billy ignored them. “We’re going to die without your help. I can’t let everybody die because I forgot a fucking address!”
The clink of cuffs. Billy couldn’t avoid Stan any longer. He was lifted back up to his feet. His front was wet with blood. Billy met the scowling eyes of the cops. He was a criminal in their eyes. A drooling mad fool.
“My father was slaughtered by those things out there,” Billy pleaded to Stan. “I’m not out of my head. I’m trying to help whoever’s left alive to survive. This is more important than you could ever know!”
Stan didn't think so. “Well, this isn’t the way to go about it.”
“No shit,” another cop muttered. “You’re desecrating the dead.”
“The dead are trying to save us. You and your police squad haven’t been able to stop them, and that's not your fault. But do you think the monsters will just give up and go away if we stay here long enough?”
“We’ll fight them with whatever we got,” Stan insisted. “Now that we’ve made so many attempts to recover survivors, it’s time we talked about our plans to fight back.”
After a cough and belch of fluids, a death-stricken voice said, “
Your plan isn’t worth shit.
”
The four cops, including Stan, turned to the female corpse that talked. She worked out of the body bag. Apple filling spilled out of her midsection and to her feet. “
Billy’s right. There isn’t much time. The monsters have cleared out the city. They wanted you in one spot. This is their climax to the evening. Once the last person alive in this city ceases to breathe, the bone dome over the city will lift and land over another city, and repeat the massacre.
”
Billy could’ve picked everybody’s jaws up from the ground, their shock was so apparent.
Stan cocked his head. “W-who are you?”
“
Call me Andy
,” the woman creaked, black blood spilling from her lips. “
Midnight tonight, every creature will fall in on your base. That gives you barely an hour to form a defense. Collect all the weapons you’ve got
…”
The woman’s corpse dissolved, every particle of flesh and bone melting into a black-green pile of sizzling fluid. Another corpse shifted in a nearby body bag. Billy was the one to free the body, this one a legless man who didn’t bother to work his way from the bag. “…
form a chain of those willing to fight these bastards off. Their attack will free up the streets. My plan to save your asses involves Billy. You must protect him at all costs. He’s one of the last remaining hopes for the city. One hour you've got to rally your troops, Stan. These monsters are real, and they will kill you.
”