Can You Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? (36 page)

And then—Kim's the strong one. She pulls you upstairs, into your parents' bedroom, and slams the door shut. You collapse on the floor.

Pain courses through you. Blood pours from your shoulder, pooling beneath. Just want this to end. Just want to die.

No. Not yet.

On your parents' dresser, a picture of your grandfather. A good guy, as far as you know. He died when you were young. Too young to remember.

He was a ladies' man. Worked as a surgeon in a Pittsburgh hospital. Bragged loudly about how he was going to date every nurse in the hospital. He never got past the first, your grandmother.

Then he went off to war. Not a war hero. But a good soldier. Did his job.

If he's up in heaven right now watching, there's no way you can let yourself die on this floor. No way you can let the woman you love die.

Using the one arm you still have, you get to your feet and push your parents' dresser in front of the door. Working together, you bandage up Kim's arm, then she does yours. The entire time, the monsters pound at the door.

You pass out on the bed. The pounding at the door continues.

Kim looks down at her severed arm. She sobs. You try to fight it—try with everything—but you can't. Together, you lie on the bed and cry…

THUNDERBALLS

Hauk summons Hammer over. They show you the basics of the Hellfire—it's just like a Jet Ski, only instead of controlling just right and left, you control up and down, too. Oh yeah—and there are twin harpoon guns on each side—they didn't have that in Aruba.

You suit up. Wet suit, oxygen, everything. Utility belt around your waist with a knife. You hop on the Hellfire.

Hammer skips the wet suit—just takes a knife and throws an oxygen tank on his back, the tube in his mouth, and hops on. He looks like an absolute fucking madman. He gives you a scary grin, then takes off. Hauk waves you off as you follow Hammer into the water.

About a half mile out, Hammer submerges.

Alright—here goes nothing. You hit the switch. The Hellfire hums beneath you, gets louder, then goes under. Water splashes over your goggles—and suddenly, you're beneath the surface, with a clear, full view of the underside of New York Harbor.

You pass over an old Buick, half buried in the sand. Fish swim around—none of them pretty.

Then you see the things.

Surreal doesn't begin to describe it. Hundreds of zombies, walking across the bay floor. They're even slower underwater than they were on solid ground.

Hammer fires. The harpoon slices through the water and embeds itself directly in the skull of the thing farthest in the front—a teenager in a black jean jacket. In slow motion, it falls to the sand. Doesn't float. Doesn't rise. Just hits the ground and stops moving. Sand slowly kicks up around it.

You take aim and fire. The harpoon sticks harmlessly into the harbor floor.

Hammer buzzes over the zombies. You hit the gas and follow, staying a good twenty feet above them.

Hammer is lower than you. One of the dead reaches up, just barely misses his bare foot. You speed past all of them, get to the end of their ranks. A rough estimation—you put them at a thousand.

Hammer loops around, cutting through the water, and flies back. You follow. You fire a random harpoon into the mass of them, just because you can, and happen to nail one in the back of the skull. You're past it before it begins to fall.

Hammer continues to cruise low over them. Another goes for his foot. Catches it this time. A hint of red in the water.

Hammer lets go of the Hellfire and it continues on through the water unmanned. It glides along, downward, then crashes into the mass of zombies, sending them stumbling about and falling to the harbor floor. The sand kicks up, clouding the water while you watch helplessly from a safe distance. More grab at him now. He struggles. Rips his blade from its sheath and buries it in one of the things' faces.

Another one grabs him. Fuck—looks like it bit him. You can't quite tell.

You take aim and fire a harpoon at the one that has him. Catches it in the neck. It doesn't let go. Continues pulling at him, harpoon sticking out each side of it. Another shot, slightly higher. This one hits it in the head. Its hands open and it sinks to the sand. Hammer bursts up through the water. A small trail of blood leaks from his ankle.

You steer the Hellfire toward the surface and come up beside him. He grabs hold of the side and you head back for Liberty Island.

Hammer comes out of the water first and limps his way up
onto the rocky beach. You leave the glider in the water, strip off the wet suit, and race up behind him.

“One got you, I saw!” you shout after him.

“I'm fine.”

You catch up to him. “I saw, one got you, you're bleeding.”

“It nicked me.”

“With its nails. That could be enough.”

“It didn't fucking bite me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Still.”

He spins. His dark eyes dart about wildly, looking you up and down. “Listen kid, shut the fuck up before I coldcock you, got me?”

Silently, you follow him back to Hauk. Hauk sits at a picnic table, looking over a map.

“Well?” Hauk says.

“Big bad fucking news, boss. I counted twelve hundred.”

“How far?”

“Shit, one hour. Maybe hour 'n' ten.”

“Never ends. Alright—we need that radio—now. Hammer, the kit. Get it. Cover me. Kid, you spot.”

“What are you plannin' on?” Hammer asks.

“I'm going over there, I'm getting that radio, I'm calling for help, and we're getting the fuck outta here.”

MOST TRAGIC
…

You grab her good arm and pull her up to your parents' room. You barricade the door with a dresser.

You take good care of her. Wrap her up and lay her down gently on the closet floor. In about an hour she turns.

She howls. For two days straight, she growls and moans from inside the closet.

Finally, it's too much.

You rip open the door. Fire twice. Leave chunks of Kim's brain all over your mother's shoe collection.

Then you collapse against the door. Put the gun in your own mouth. And squeeze.

ACTUALLY, WE'RE GOOD
…

“Guess our saviors have arrived,” the Ardle says.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Fun while it lasted.”

“Yeah…”

“You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“I might be.”

He smiles.

You stand up, walk around to get a good angle at the front of the copter. “We're good!” you shout, waving your arms. “We're good!”

No way they can hear you above the roar. After a few minutes, though, they seem to get the message. The ladder is pulled up and the helicopter flies away, headed downtown.

“Game of
Madden
?” the Ardle asks.

You return to your beach chair. “Def.”

CHIVALRY ISN'T DEAD (BUT YOU MIGHT BE)