Jason took comfort in that.
“So, this is the first you've seen of the freaks, eh Jace?” I asked.
“Yes. What's wrong with them?”
“It's a disease . . . a virus. Makes you go all cuckoo and want to eat people. And you know what the worst of it is?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“They're already dead. The virus kills you, and when you come back to life, you're a flesh-eating monster, just like they are.” I pointed toward the front door.
Jason gulped audibly.
“Royce, stop it! You're scaring him.”
“He should be scared. I'm scared of those things.” I turned back to Jason. “I'll tell you the secret, Jace. Don't get bit. Even the littlest nip from one of those freaks is all it takes to catch the disease.”
“And there's a cure,” Celeste added.
“There is?” Jason asked.
“Yes, there's a vaccine.”
“We're the only ones who know what it is,” I said. “Celeste and I are both immune. We injected her with the virus, and nothing happened.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Jason wasn't convinced. He looked at Celeste who confirmed my suggestion. “Do you have any more?” he asked.
“Nope, but the military does. They're sitting right on top of it and they don't even know it. That's why we're here. We need to find them and tell them about the cure.”
“Did they come to Kansas City?” Celeste asked.
“They're always here, on account of how close we are to the front and all, but ya, a whole bunch of them started rolling into town yesterday morning. They started building a bunch of barricades downtown. Said everything was fine, and we should go about our business.”
“They still have a lot to learn,” Celeste said.
We slept on the stained linoleum behind the counter. The ghouls' constant moaning had become white noise. It was like having an apartment downtown by the train tracksâeventually, you can sleep right through the shaking.
When I woke up in the morning, I peeked over the counter. I couldn't believe my eyes. More zombies than I had ever seen surrounded the building. There were literally thousands. Men carrying briefcases, pregnant women, police officers, toddlers with binkys in their mouths, you name it. One glimpse of me, and they were up against the glass again, pounding and pushing.
“Guys, guys, wake up!” I yelled, crouching down behind the counter. “We have a
big
problem.”
I crawled on my hands and knees over to the drive-through window and stood up cautiously to look outside. They were out there in droves just as they'd been out front. From what I could see, the mob stretched all the way around the building. Just as I was about to duck down, I saw a zombie wearing the same uniform as Jason, sans hat. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but he walked right up to the window like he owned the place. His nametag read: Richard, Manager. Imagine that, I thought, the dick's name is Dick.
Celeste and Jason were waking up as I crawled back over to the counter.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Take a look out front. Just don't let them see you.”
Celeste stuck her head up from behind the counter. She ducked back down. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “There's so many of them. It's like the whole city is out there.”
They must have seen her surface because the moaning reached a fevered pitch, and we could hear glass breaking in the lobby. We all looked over the counter. The zombies had broken several windows and were smashed up against the bars, which bowed a couple of feet inside the restaurant. It was enough for one of them to slide through the gap at the bottom if they were clever enough to figure that out.
“They're going to come in,” Jason cried.
“They won't climb through that gap,” I said. “They're too stupid. Might break through those bars though. They'll just smash themselves into them like they did the glass.”
“Those bars are pretty strong,” Jason said.
“How strong?”
“They're made out of some kind of super-strong material. Somebody tried to drive a truck through the front door a few months ago, and the bars didn't break.”
“Let's hope they hold. That's a lot of pressure from all those bodies.”
We spent the rest of the morning sitting behind the counter drinking bottled water and eating sundae toppings while we listened to the zombies breaking the glass and flexing the bars.
“We're never gonna make it out of here,” I said, tossing a handful of chopped nuts in my mouth. As hopeless as my comment sounded, I believed it to be true. I was never going to see my family again.
“We have to,” Celeste said. “We have to spread the cure. There has to be a way out.”
“Not through them there isn't. Besides, if we try and don't make it (which we won't), then they'll never know about the cure.”
“You're beginning to sound like Alex,” she said. I gave her a sour look. I wanted to say something mean but thought better of it given how long they'd been friends.
“What happened to the guy that fought his way in and out of the rations depot?”
“Those weren't suicide missions.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the last three magazines. “This is all the ammo we've got. This one isn't even full. It isn't enough to get through those freaks.”
“Well, so is staying here. You see the way things are going out there. You know what's coming next.”
“What's coming next?” Jason asked, flipping his tie nervously.
“Nothing, dude, don't worry,” I said, giving Celeste the stink eye. “Now you're scaring him.” I tried to change the subject. “Say, Jason, what happened to your name tag?”
“My name tag? I dunno . . . I never put it on since I'm not working. Why?”
“Cause I found your boss, that's why.”
“Really? Where is he?”
“Outside the drive-through window. His name is Rich, right?”
“Ya, it's Rich. Is he one of those things?”
“You got it, buster. Wanna shoot him?”
“Royce!” Celeste barked.
“What? He's already dead. You can put him out of his misery and live out a fantasy at the same time. How many people get to waste their boss and don't have to spend the rest of their life in prison?”
Jason looked interested but afraid to speak. I retrieved my weapon from next to the cash register. “You want to fire this bad boy, don't ya?”
He nodded.
“You know this thing has a laser on it? Mine's broken (long story), but it comes out when you press this button right here. Thing is freaking awesome.”
“Jason, you're going to have to pass for now,” Celeste said. “We don't want to rile those things up any more than they already are.”
“Awww, Mom, you're always ruining all the fun,” I said. “Actually, she's right. That's probably a bad ideaâfor now. We'll find a good time for you to let him know what you really think of this job.”
It was another excruciatingly boring day in hiding. I hated the inactivity coupled with the anxiety of being cornered by thousands of creatures that wanted nothing more than to eat us. The zombies out front sniffed incessantly, so we moved further back into the restaurant so they couldn't smell us. We sat between the grill and the freezer.
“If they break through the gates, we should go in the freezer,” Celeste said. “They'll never be able to open the handle.”
“That's a good idea,” I said, yawning. I noticed a sign next to the heat lamps that had instructions for giving a McRib “fresh off the grill flavor.”
“You guys still have the McRib!”
“What do you mean
still
? We have it every year,” Jason said.
“Can you make me one?”
“Oh gross,” Celeste moaned. “You like those things?”
“Like them? I love them.”
“Did you know they have a flour-bleaching agent in them that's also used to make yoga mats?” she asked.
“Nope, but I'm not surprised, and I don't care. I wouldn't expect anything less from my favorite restructured meat product.”
“You know what? I think I can,” Jason said. “We cook them over there, so they shouldn't be able to see me, except when I get the pickles.”
“I gotta have the pickles. Don't worry about grabbing them. Those freaks already know we're in here. Just do it fast so they don't get too worked up.”
Jason went into the freezer, retrieved some frozen “rib” patties, and started making me a sandwich.
“Sure you don't want one, Celeste?” I asked.
“I'll stick to the nuts.”
In true fast food fashion, Jason was back with the piping hot sandwich in a matter of minutes. I was savoring my second bite of the delicate, tangy goodness when I heard a familiar rumbling sound outside. I dropped my sandwich and ran out into the center of the restaurant. Three Humvees and an armored personnel carrier came storming into the parking lot. A fifty-caliber machine gun was mounted on each vehicle. Gunners stood behind the weapons, poised and ready for a fight.
“We're in here! We're in here!” I yelled, jumping up and down and waving my arms above my head.
The vehicles approached the McDonald's and stopped about thirty feet from the edge of the zombie horde. Each gunner hurled multiple neutron grenades into the heart of the crowd and opened fire on the zombies as they ran toward the vehicles. The fifty-caliber bullets tore through the ghouls and the walls of the building without slowing down. I turned to Celeste and Jason, who had come out from behind the counter.
“Get down!” I yelled.
They dove behind the counter, and I was hoping to join them when a bullet struck me in the back. Time seemed to slow down after the bullet passed through me. It shattered the cash register and left a massive crater in the door of the metal freezer. I fell to my knees. I looked down at the wound. It looked like a tin can had traveled through me. I fell on my left side and started coughing up blood. Celeste crawled out from behind the counter. She screamed my name and held my face. I blacked out.
I woke up in a small room with a low ceiling. That's all I could see anyway. There were machines on either side of me. I was lying on my back, and it hurt too much to turn on my side. My upper body had a deep ache. The space hummed loudly, and vibrated slightly. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if it was me or the room that was shaking.
“There he is,” a voice announced. “Mr. Nine Lives is back again.” A tall barrel-chested soldier stood beside me. He wore the same camouflage uniform we'd stolen, and he looked like GI Joe, wide-jawed and smiling.
“Why are you calling me that?” I coughed. The pain in my chest was excruciating.
“Your friends told us all about you. Frozen and brought back to life forty years laterâthat's incredible. You died in the year I was born, you know that?”
I didn't say anything.
“That's all right, save your energy, hoss. My name's Neal. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you for a while.”
I held out my hand. Neal shook it gently.
“We thought we might lose you there for a moment. Most people don't survive a direct hit with a fifty-cal round.”
“There's a cure,” I whispered. “Smallpox . . .”
“Save your breath, now. Your friend, Celeste, she told us all about it. They ran some tests back in Alameda, and by God, the damn thing works! We got lucky on this one. The government stockpiles the smallpox vaccine. They're going to immunize everybody. It's going to take some time, but they're working on it as we speak.”
“Where's Celeste?”
“She left for Montana a couple days ago. They found some of her family there.”
“And Jason?”
“He's fine, too. The boys rescued you all once they realized you were in that McDonald's. Sergeant Jenkins feels terrible for shooting you. It's hard to see the friendlies when there's that many bodies moving around. Anyway, Jason went with the rest of the evacuees to a camp outside Wichita. We lost Kansas City. Had to put her down like St. Louis and Minneapolis. Jackson, too, now, as of yesterday.”
“How did all this happen so fast?”
“You've been in a coma for the last four days. Docs induced it. Reduces the stress on the body from all the surgeries. They pulled you out of it this morning and cleared you to go home. Been sleeping ever since.”
“Where am I?”
“On a flight to San Diego.”
“I am?” The sudden rush of excitement threw me into a coughing fit.
“That's where you're from, right?”
I nodded.