Dove: A Zombie Tale (Byron: A Zombie Tale Book 2) (15 page)

“Let’s get this thing done with,” I said to no one as I leapt for the wall, my fingers finding purchase in the mortar between the large stones. I scaled the rock wall with little effort, stopping about four or five stories up above the ground at the sill of a massive window in the rear of the central tower. The face of the mighty golem sat only a few feet below me.

I examined the creature. Anthropomorphic to a fault, it looked like a large version of a massive man constructed from thrashing bodies of the animated dead. Its mouth, comprised of multiple bodies, opened and shut in constant motion. A man-sized tongue lolled out. Eye openings formed from curved bodies with full heads acting as the eyes. The degree of detail the Symbiots had utilized in creating this beast left me awestruck.

We can sense its neurotoxin. The primary is strong. It uses their common hunger as a tool against them. The hunger makes them stronger, fiercer, and yet more obedient. They cooperate with the promise of being fed.

“Almost like a Pavlovian response,” I mumbled, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

We don’t know what that means, but their bond is strong. There is no way to break it. They have decided to create a new form of colony in this body.

“Do you think you can replicate the toxin signature?”

We do not know. Why?

“I have an idea of how to deal with this thing. If it is resolute on becoming a colony with the Lord at its helm, then all we need to do is to fool the lord into destroying the lot of them.”

How would you do that?

I stared down Fairmount avenue and saw something promising. “I am not sure if it will work, but I have an idea.”

chapter eleven

Even sealed this
deep within the prison, I could hear the screams and wails of the creature outside the walls. Why hadn’t Byron come back, yet? John ran to the entrance to check on him, but neither of them had returned. I leaned against the wall and rolled onto the blades of my feet to give the pacing a break.

Footsteps echoed down the cell block corridor at a run. I pushed off from the wall and waited for a face to come into view. John. Running. This could not be good.

“Byron has something to take care of. He’ll be along in a little while.”

I put a hand out to stop him as he walked by. “What do you mean, something to take care of? Everyone is here, safe and sound. There is no reason he should still be out there.”

John tapped his finger to his head and winked. “Trust me. Byron has something to take care of.”

I balled my fist into his oversized army-surplus jacket. “He’s not going to take that thing on by himself, is he?”

“No,” he responded too fast with panic in his voice. He paused, narrowing his eyes at me. “At least I don’t think he is. He said something about studying it. Don’t worry about him, he can handle himself.”

“Not anymore, he can’t. These Lords and Goners are changing faster than he can keep up with. I had to save his life already today. After you guys left your house. And now you’re telling me that idiot just threw himself into the lion’s den?” I let out a big sigh, not realizing how tense I had become. The pacing started again. Cell door to cell door.

“Hey, no matter what your zombie friend decides to do, we need to get somewhere safe where we can hold these things off in case they get inside.” Sammy’s voice cut through the cloud of manic thoughts in my head like a narrated voice of reason. I stopped in my tracks and turned to him, my face warm but cooling from the tears pooling in the grime I felt caked on my cheeks. “He can kill his undead self as many times as he wants. I don’t want to become a meal to some grey skinned, milk-eyed, crazy, freakin’ people eater.” He spoke the last part in sing-song to the tune of Flying Purple People Eater.

“Sammy’s right. We need to find somewhere we can defend until someone either beats that thing, or it finally gives up and goes away.” Jake spoke up from further down the corridor. “This place is pretty tough, but it won’t last forever.”

“But where the hell can we go? We’re stuck in an abandoned prison with no amenities, no power, and no supplies except whatever is in the Rover outside. We might as well just give ourselves over to the damn Goners.” I didn’t mean it to sound as snippy as it did. I guess, despite being in my twenties, I have a tendency to relapse into my teenage angst when under duress.

Jake stepped closer to the rest of us. Aunt E joined in the huddle. “I used to work here as a guard before they closed the place down as a prison. There is so much more to it than the public is ever allowed to see. There are tunnels and passages underneath this place that would amaze you. It may take me a little bit, but I think I can find us what we need. Not only do I know where the safest hiding spots are, but also the escape routes where nobody will find us.”

“What do you mean ‘escape routes’?” Aunt E asked. “This is a prison. There’s one entrance and exit.”

Jake shook his head. “That’s what you think. This has been a prison since 1829. There have been additions added on, taken off, steam tunnels run, sewers run, and service entrances and exits put in and plugged up. One of my guard duties included patrolling the lesser known openings to the prison. We didn’t do it often, because we didn’t want to draw the inmate’s attention to them, but we still patrolled them. We used most of them as places to take naps, take smoke breaks, or just hang out and play cards during ‘lights out.’ The bottom line is that there are ways in and out of this place that few people dead or alive would be able to find. And you are lucky enough to have the ultimate tour guide.”

“That’s kind of scary, dad. I didn’t realize this place was that unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Hell, this is the safest facility in the country. In almost one hundred and fifty years of operation, only one hundred inmates ever escaped its walls. All things considered, that’s not too bad an average.” He looked down the corridor. “I think our best bet is to head for the central rotunda. From there we can see down all the cell blocks and have a better chance of preparing for any unexpected guests.”

“Where is the rotunda?” He gave me that ‘Are you a complete idiot?’ expression. “Sorry! In all my years living in Philly, I’ve never been here.”

“Really?” Evan asked. “I live in Ohio, and I’ve been here a bunch of times.”

“That’s only because you’ve stayed over my place and begged me to come here, Dingus!” John’s snark got us all laughing. Except for Evan, of course. Sammy’s guffaws drowned us all out in a moment.

“So what are we doing?” I asked as the laughter died down. “Are we moving, or what?”

Jake nodded. “Yep. Let’s head on this way. We’ll lock everything up from the central rotunda. If the generators are still operational, they can start from there also. It served as a hub, and central observation center for the entire prison. We can lock all the doors electronically, and it’s protected by tons of stone all around. If anywhere in this prison is safe, this is the safest. If it gets compromised, we can go into the subbasements and the underground prison tunnels.”

“All right.” I sighed, glancing back down the corridor toward the main entrance. “Let’s do this. The sooner we can hunker down, the better.”

“Hear! Hear!” Sammy barked as he headed toward the rotunda, his dreadlocks jumping as he spoke.

~ ~ ~

From my vantage point high in the tower, I commanded a tremendous view of the area. Leaded glass windows surrounded me on all sides. I could see inside the prison compound, or out to the city below. Down Fairmount stood my one hope at trying to beat this massive flesh beast.

Another inhuman roar filled the air as it drove its fist into the stone wall surrounding the prison. Broken, lifeless bodies dropped from the creature’s fist, their skulls smashed in. Bodies shifted around the monster to make up for the temporary loss of mass while other Goners shambled in from surrounding buildings to join in place of the missing bodies. In a sick way, the creature developed a way to regenerate itself.

“My God!” I gasped out loud. “With all the Goners in the city, this thing will never die!”

A thousand tortured voices split the air again as its fists pummeled the stone walls.

Its signature is beyond anything we can reproduce. There are enzymes and chemicals in it that come only from the process of decomposition. Your body does not produce these elements because we keep you alive.

“Can you produce a counter-toxin? Something that could reverse the effects of the neurotoxin calling all the Goners to it?”

We will try.

“If we can break its hold on the Goners, then we might have a chance to beat it.”

Glass shattered above my head, spraying down on the floor around me. Hands reached through the narrow windows, grabbing at me. Goners climbed down from the hand, spilling inside the tower.

My blades sang as they whipped through putrid flesh and air. Without another thought, I leaped through one of the front windows, somersaulted, and landed on the street below. The beast spun toward me and roared in its polyphonic voice.

“Son of a—” I dug the balls of my feet into the asphalt as I twisted and broke into a sprint. I knew the beast ran fast, it kept up with the Rover as we drove. But I didn’t have far to go. About one block, is all. I only hoped the gas station’s pumps held enough pressure in the lines for my plan to work.

My feet pounded the street, but the crashing and moaning of the Goners behind me overwhelmed any sound I made. I bobbed and weaved along the street, trying to make a difficult target for the golem. In three of its steps, though, it passed me and blocked the road in my path.

“Okay, guys. I need some extra speed and strength, here.” Power surged through me as the Symbiots answered my call for help. Hopping mid-stride, I drew both legs up underneath me, landed on my heels, rolled forward, and sprang with all my might, soaring upward.

The golem had turned its body, swinging its left arm down to scoop me up when I jumped. My timing could not have been more perfect as I soared past the creature’s chest, hacking at a few heads while I flew. Bodies fell from the beast and it adjusted to the loss, while other Goners answered the call to take the place of the fallen. I landed on the tarmac and sprinted, head down, toward the gas station. Slowed down by its regeneration, the beast took a few moments to catch up to me.

My heart rose as the sign on the corner displayed the current gas prices. The red lights on the digital sign meant the place had power. A car sat at the nearest pump with the nozzle still hanging out of it.

“Please, God! Please!” I jerked the nozzle from the car and squeezed the trigger. Gas shot from the end, spraying all over the car. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed a lighter I had picked up in an abandoned bar outside Trenton. I flicked it open and lit it, tossing it onto the car. Flames spread, consuming the gasoline, singing the car’s paint and filling the air with acrid smoke. I squeezed the trigger again and the fire spread along the stream pouring from the nozzle.

Turning my impromptu flamethrower at the golem, I coated it in liquid fire. Roars and screams of anguish erupted from the Goners as they separated from the creature and scattered away. Skulls exploded as the decomposition gases inside them expanded. The Lord soon stood alone in the street, his eyes burning with an anger hotter than the fire I shot toward him.

He screamed, covered in flames, and ran toward me. I dropped the nozzle and drew one of my swords. But the beast moved too fast. Before my sword could clear its sheath, it bowled into me and drove me into the gas pump. My elbow swung into the nozzle holder and banged the flap inside. I shoved back, but the creature’s strength surpassed mine. Flames licked at my clothes. I felt my skin blister from the heat.

The Lord’s face boiled and bubbled behind the tongues of fire leaping from its body. Its skin liquefied and ran down its body in tarry black streaks. It gnashed at me, its teeth snapping shut millimeters from my throat.

I shoved it again, twisting it to one side and throwing it off balance. It reacted fast, though, and came at me again. Twisting my body, I yanked the Lord off its feet and shoved it head-first into the pump, trying to crush its skull. The Krang of ringing metal filled my ears, but the beast shook off the attack and leapt away.

The distance between us afforded me time to finally draw my swords. A flaming car separated us as we stared each other down. I narrowed my eyes and bared my teeth. It bellowed a horrible sound that sent chills running down my spine.

Byron, it is using the neurotoxin again. It is looking to reform the Golem. You must kill it now.

I leapt head-first over the flaming car and the top of the gas pump, throwing one of the swords as I did. The beast reacted to my attack by leaping back and to the right, its body entering the path of my thrown sword. The blade pierced the creature’s esophagus and buried itself to the hilt as my feet struck the ground. It stared at me with wide eyes as I swung the other sword with both hands, cleaving the Lord’s skull from its body. Moans filled my ears as I grabbed the other sword and spun to see a growing horde of Goners massing in the intersection near the gas station. The Lord may be dead, but his call for help did not fall unanswered.

~ ~ ~

“So what happened with mom?” John’s question left me speechless. I didn’t want to be around such a private, intimate family moment. But locked inside the rotunda with the rest of the group, I had no option but to sit and watch as the drama unfolded. I examined John’s face—puffy red eyes, and smeared filth on his cheeks. He had been crying.