Containment (24 page)

“Don’t think. Just act.”

Dr. Caldwell swaggered out into the parking lot with the bat in one hand. To Neil, he looked like a gladiator...a warrior from days gone by, going into battle with his club. He tried to emulate the same confidence and fearlessness, but was afraid that he just looked like he was acting. The doctor got closer to one of the ghouls, leaned himself forward on the balls of his feet like he was preparing to swing at a pitched baseball, and swung. As the bat made contact with the thing’s head, a metallic clang echoed between the buildings. The beast’s head rolled to one side, its neck clearly broken with the first swing. Dr. Caldwell didn’t hesitate for even a second. He swung the bat again; this time taking off part of the scalp. Into a crumpled heap of rotting flesh and tattered clothing, the zombie fell.

Neil held his breath, partially to try and control his breathing so as not to hyperventilate and partially to reduce the amount of the stench that he could smell. He thought he was ready to swing, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. He hadn’t been in too many physical altercations in his life. Whenever a situation seemed to be brewing toward a fistfight and a possible opponent confronted him, he always found himself resistant to throwing a punch. He could stare the person down, but most attempts at actually fighting brought on a nearly uncontrollable hysteria within him that all but immobilized his hands at his sides. This same feeling was what was staying his hands at the present moment. Even when the thing had its hands raised toward him and was approaching him threateningly, he was finding it difficult to hit it.

Dr. Caldwell was busy trying to square off with the third and final ghoul and was, therefore, not available to help. Neil backed away a little to buy himself some time. He was slightly distracted with the memory of having been clutched by one of the things several days ago. He shook his head, trying to stave off the helplessness that was threatening him. Why couldn’t he do this?

It was getting closer with each passing second. Neil was feeling like the fly caught in the spider’s web again; just waiting for that lethal bite.

Meghan watched him from inside the glass doors. “Jerry, do something,” she urged.

Jerry nodded and stepped back outside. He walked over toward Neil, who said dispassionately, “I’ve got this one. I’m just...”

Jerry responded, finishing Neil’s thought, “...making him suffer a little.”

“Yeah. Suffer.”

Neil got both of his hands on the bat, swung it in a high arc over his head, and brought it down with a powerful executioner’s swing onto the top of the demon’s skull. The creature gurgled slightly as its cranium was crushed down between its shoulders, losing all shape and function. Watching it slump silently backward, Neil said, “Thanks.”

“You got it. I think we should get moving. I can hear them coming toward us again.”

“Yeah. You’re right. No point in wasting any more time here. Let’s get outta here. Now.”

Disengaged. That would best describe Neil's mood for the next several...actually, he wasn't really certain for
how
long. He felt like he was living in a series of frightening and somehow connected images, like he was stuck on the reel of a stop motion camera. He remembered pounding footsteps against damp pavement. There was Meghan running close behind him. Her face was strained and desperate. Was everyone else still with them? Where were the children? Were they keeping up? There was another sound, more distant but building. It was more footsteps; a lot more footsteps. They were being followed...pursued...
hunted
. He was prey fleeing for his life with the rest of the diminishing herd.

The running was accompanied by shouting and arguing. Someone, a man, suggested something but someone else, a woman, disagreed. They fought on the run, like two cowboys having a gunfight from the backs of racing horses on the prairie.

There was frantic, terrified sobbing as well...all around him. He may have even been a part of that but he couldn’t be sure. He saw doorways and windows, abandoned cars and a crashed bus, but none of it registered as anything that even approached reality. Stop motion photography, after all, was something to be watched and not something to be survived.

And then there was quiet again. They were back inside. Where? There was arguing and protests, but he couldn't follow. He wasn't even sure about the voices. Maybe that was Dr. Caldwell or it could have been Jerry. It came from behind him.

Another voice. He looked up to an audience of faces waiting for the show to begin, and what he was slowly realizing was that he was the main attraction at this carnival. He rolled his eyes from left to right, his head barely moving.

"Well, Neil? What should we do?"

The question registered this time. What should we do? That was an excellent question. To his dismay, he discovered that his well was empty. He was about to shake his head and admit to as much when the pounding of fists against the glass doors separating them from the outside menace steeled his one thought.

"Let's find a back way out and get the hell outta here and quick. We gotta keep moving. We gotta put some distance between us and them. Just keep moving."

They ran down the wide hall into one narrow corridor that led to another. They passed doors but didn’t see any way out, just more offices or bathrooms or storage rooms or whatever. They started to turn right again and then Neil saw it. On the wall high above another door was an Exit sign.

There was no time to pause; no time to be careful. Behind them, the large glass doors and windows of the office building finally gave way and came crashing to the floor, and in poured a reeking wave of bloodthirsty beasts hot on their tail. Everyone ran through the door, which was then slammed shut, hoping to be that barrier that might finally stem the tide.

Dr. Caldwell said, “I don’t think this door is going to hold them for very long. We better keep moving.”

They all agreed on the run as they headed north up an alley that emerged onto Sixth Avenue. They could see the Atwood up the road a few blocks, with nothing but empty street between them and it.

They started to slacken their pace a little to which Neil said emphatically, “No! We can’t let up! Keep moving! We don’t have the time to catch our breaths now! We gotta get somewhere safe first.”

As he was saying this, they all heard the familiar sound of rage-filled footsteps pounding behind them again. They knew that if they could get into the Atwood Concert Hall before their pursuers saw them, then perhaps they could gain some distance and a modicum of safety. The casual confidence they all had when they first entered the city was faded and gone. They were desperate refugees again trying to stay ahead of the storm.

They ran to the first set of doors they saw and, not surprisingly, they were locked. Jerry said to all of them, “I think we should keep moving to the doors around the corner.”

Claire, with wide, questioning eyes, demanded, “Why the hell don’t we just get inside before it’s too late?”

“We don’t want them to follow us if we can avoid it, and right now, they’ll see us go in. Maybe if we get into a door around the corner, we’ll lose them for a bit. Outta sight outta mind.”

Dr. Caldwell decided for all of them, “Let’s just move. He’s got a point but this is no time for a discussion. Go!”

The crowd of ghoulish pursuers was getting closer with each second. They weren’t running at them, thankfully, but their single-minded pursuit was persistent. They just kept coming relentlessly forward as a single, angry, mob.

At the next set of doors, Jerry used the butt of his rifle to break an opening in the door. The task wasn’t as easy as Jerry had imagined. The glass was tempered and shatterproof.

After watching several vain attempts, Meghan ordered, “Step back.” She raised the pistol in her hand and fired a single shot just above the door’s outer handle. The concrete alcove in which they were standing magnified the crack of the gunshot. Neil, shaking his head trying to relieve the ringing a bit, looked at Meghan with surprise. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Someone had to do somethin’.”

Jerry again used the butt of his rifle, but this time he banged it just above the small opening. The wooden rifle stock went through the hole, making it large enough for his hand. He reached inside and pulled on the horizontal handle, thus releasing the locking mechanism from inside.

With the door open, they all piled into the hall’s main lobby. The room was cavernous, with ceilings reaching several stories above where they stood. To Danny, it resembled some of the big churches he’d visited with his parents. As they ran up the wide staircase to the next floor, he looked over his shoulder at the door through which they had come. Outside, the first of the zombies were just passing. They seemed to be going right by the door. They didn’t seem to be following them; at least not yet. They did, however, seem to be moving much more quickly than it had appeared from a distance. It wasn’t quite a run, but he would have called it at least a jog or a trot. Any illusion he may have been harboring about being able to outrun these things needed to be rethought. They were still very dangerous and should not be underestimated.

Jules who was standing on the step above him tugged his shoulder. “C’mon, Danny, we gotta go. We gotta keep up or they’ll leave us.” Jules’ eyes betrayed her fear of being abandoned and forgotten. She’d heard Art’s protests and his warning to the others about bringing her and Danny with them. She would have liked to stay at Charles’ house but she thought that Neil and Jerry might still be able to get her home. Now, with those scary things chasing them and all the adults acting so frightened, she didn’t want Art’s prophesy to become a reality.

Jerry came back down the steps to where they were standing and said reassuringly, “Don’t worry you two. Nobody’s leaving anybody. Got it? We do have to keep moving though.”

Danny smiled up at Jerry. “It looks like your idea is working. They’re going right by us.”

“We can’t get sloppy then,” Jerry cautioned. “We gotta use this extra bit of time. It’s important that we keep moving so that we can stay safe. Let’s go.”

Jules and Danny both sprinted up the staircase, taking a couple of stairs at a time. They beat Jerry to the top and followed the others as they ran toward the doors opening into the sky bridge that spanned Fifth Avenue.

Standing in the enclosed footbridge, they all paused and looked down. On the street below them, hundreds of the beasts were beginning to congregate. Jerry remembered once visiting a zoo featuring a large shark tank with a walkthrough breezeway that allowed visitors to see the sharks from a fish perspective. It was fantastic and a little claustrophobic. That was how he felt now. Like a spectator at a zoo looking at dangerous carnivores still in their cages, he looked down at the fiends on the street below.

The things barely resembled human beings anymore. For the most part, their flesh was starting to pull tighter and tighter across their bones as the moisture in their skin and muscles diminished. Most of them still bore the horrible wounds that had originally claimed their lives, though they were now crusty and as brown as rusted metal. Their clothing resembled the tattered rags that one might find covering the abandoned and forgotten furniture in a long condemned tenement building.

Emma stood quietly as they watched the throng below. “I can’t stand to watch this anymore. I’m so afraid I might see someone that I recognize...well, would have recognized before all of this.”

Dr. Caldwell asked them, “Shouldn’t we just keep moving?”

They made their way across the elevated corridor toward the doors that opened into the Egan Convention Center.

“Wait a minute,” Neil said, “I might have an idea here. Take a look inside. Are there any of them in there?”

Jerry pushed the unlocked doors open and peered inside. He disappeared for a moment or two and then was back. “It looks clear. What’re you thinking?”

“I want everyone to hightail it outta here and I’m going to see about trying to get those things’ attention on me up here. Maybe we can get them distracted enough that we can get away without them even knowing it.”

Meghan looked skeptical. “What do you mean, you’re going to get their attention?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m just going to make some noise so that they’re all looking up here at me and then I’m going to sneak away. They’re not that bright or even that aware. They probably won’t even notice that I’m gone. I’ll catch up to you guys in just a minute or two. Find the back door of the Egan and then wait for me. I’ll be along in a few.”

Meghan, not fully convinced, asked, “Wait a minute. They don’t even know we’re here. Why don’t we just sneak out before they figure it out?”

Dr. Caldwell answered, “We’ve seen those things and how focused they can get. If Neil could draw their attention up here and then get away without them knowing it, they could still be looking up here waiting for their meal for as long as time and their decomposition allows. I think it’s worth a try.”

“Why does it have to always be Neil?”

“Because it’s my idea. I wouldn’t feel right asking someone else to do it. I’ll be safe up here,” Neil assured her. “Besides, we’ve got the walkie-talkies. I’ll stay in touch.”

“You goddamned better!”

“I will. Now get outta here.” Neil held up his radio and Dr. Caldwell did the same.