Dove: A Zombie Tale (Byron: A Zombie Tale Book 2) (22 page)

We need time to study this phenomenon. You need to get close to one for a while.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not getting close to one of these things except to kill it.”

That is fine. Decapitate one and let us study the neurotoxin patterns. Just stay near it.

“Uhh. You’re joking, right? You do see the group of them coming in my direction, don’t you?”

Find some way to do what we ask.

I growled, but gave my surroundings a cursory scan. Edging closer to the stairs, a realization washed over me. I could use the doors’ own gates to stave off the newcomers at the stairs. All of these stairways had them to shut down a particular entrance. Without the influx of new Goners from above, I could take care of the handful on this side.

Moving with all the speed I could muster, I grabbed the closest set of gates and slammed them shut, bending some bars to lock them in place. Slicing through a couple of nearby Goners, I trotted to the other end of the platform and did the same. Locked inside, I made quick work out of decapitating the remaining creatures, leaving a batch of wandering, headless corpses and severed animated heads.

I stared at one of the heads in complete disbelief. Its eyes rolled around like they still saw. Its tongue wriggled like a fish out of a pond. A chill ran down my spine. How could such madness be possible? Wasn’t it bad enough that these colonies, these bacteria, had invaded and infected so many people. But now they were changing and becoming something different, too? I shook my head.

We have all the information we need. The colonies within these bodies have developed independent of one another. They are all fighting for control of the creature, which is why each part is semi-autonomous. They control wherever they colonized.

“Damn. That’s what I was afraid of. Your buddies are no longer happy to live together in harmony. Now you’re all fighting for control. Which, in turn, means that we’re all in the deepest—”

A roar echoed up from the hole in the subway floor. “Dammit! I needed to find a new way out. Oh, hell!” Nobody heard my self-admonishment. But as I made my way back to the opening, a sound caught my attention. I ran to it and peered down inside.

I recognized the sound, having heard it all too many times today—a scream. Doves scream!

Dropping to the ground, I reached inside as two somethings came toward me. I reached down and grabbed them, pulling them up through the hole. Wrists. Arms. Dove’s head.

“Dove!” I cried. “Are you okay? What are you doing?”

“That thing is still alive! I cut my way out through its stomach and it’s still alive!” Her voice wavered with violence.

“What do you mean? Where are the others? Are they safe?”

She shook her head. “No. They went back to the prison.”

My heart sank. “Not good. Do you have your light?”

She pulled it from her pocket and flicked it on.

“What the—” she gasped. “What are those things?”

“Goners.”

“How can those be Goners? They’re headless and walking around.”

One of them approached us. I drew my sword and lopped its legs off in a single swift blow. The limbs kept flexing and moving as if it still walked.

“They’re changing, Dove. All of it is changing. The Symbiots are evolving and adapting to the environment. And they are not playing nice with each other. The colonies have started fighting each other for control. Even within the same body.”

“Oh damn!”

~ ~ ~

“Why did they do back to the prison?” Byron’s voice broke through the mad rush of crazy images flashing through my head. I could see the repercussions of what he told me. Goners fighting for control, unable to control their own bodies or reactions. Anything that moved could be attacked.

“They were afraid something had happened to you up here. Jake and Sammy rallied the group behind them, and they all left.”

“And what happened with that rock eater thing? I thought you had killed it.”

“I thought so, too. I mean, I gutted it with a hole large enough for us to walk through. But as the other one approached, it stood up. That’s when I jumped away for the hole in the ceiling.”

“Good thing you did. I don’t think it would have been too happy with you for cutting it open.”

“Yeah, well I’m not too happy with it. Dead things should stay dead.” I bit my tongue as the last word escaped my lips. My jaw dropped open. I didn’t know what to say. His expression turned hard and stiff. His lips became thin white lines on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted. “I have trouble myself remembering that I’m really dead and not the person I used to be. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Yeah, but I should be more careful about what I say.” I looked at his chin as I spoke, unable to raise my eyes to meet his.

He slipped his hand under my chin and with a gentle touch lifted my face. My eyes crept upward until they locked with his.

“Seriously, Dove. Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean it that way.” He leaned close to me, his warm breath cascading on my cheek. “Besides, I can’t stay angry with you.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed against mine. I pushed mine toward him, savoring the kiss. Our arms wrapped around one another as we pulled each other close. For countless minutes we stayed locked together like that. My pulse raced. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes.

We separated a fraction. I turned my face downward. “What was that for?”

“What? I can’t kiss a pretty girl?”

“I’ve been terrible to you.” My voice cracked.

“You’ve saved my life. You’re a good person. I don’t think there is anyone else I want to spend the zombie apocalypse with.”

“So what does this mean?” I asked, raising my eyes back to his.

“I don’t know what this means.” A melancholy infiltrated his voice. “But I know that I don’t want to let you from my sight anymore.” His mouth worked up and down, but no more words came out. Somehow, I understood his meaning.

“I care for you, too.” My voice trembled.

The mighty roar of tortured souls rumbled below us.

“We need to get out of here.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me down along the tracks.

“Wait. Why don’t we go up to the street?” I stumbled along after him, tripping on a concrete rail tie.

“We can’t. At least not at this station. The upstairs is loaded with Goners.” He pointed at the gates blocking the stairwells. Bodies pressed against the metal, reaching for us, trying to press themselves through whatever opening they found.

My eyes grew wide. The hinges strained and the bent metal bars holding the gates shut groaned with the mounting mass of creatures pressing against them. “We can head south to the Spring Garden Station and make our way back to the prison on the surface.”

He studied my face for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m thinking that we should try to meet back up with them? What if they don’t make it to the prison?”

“We can head back in from the outside. Remember, we got pulled in from the tunnels beneath the prison?”

His face turned pale in the light and he put his hand over the flashlight’s beam. Something moved in the darkness. I could barely make out a shape in the scant remnants of the beam glowing between Byron’s fingers.

Shhhh—ing! Thwack!

“We need to move,” he whispered as we both broke into a sprint along the railroad tracks.

“I can’t see, Byron. I need the flashlight.” I felt it slip from my hands and heard it click off. Byron’s hands grabbed my arms and the floor disappeared from my feet. He slid me onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Hold on tight,” he whispered. “I can see fine enough for both of us.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around the experience. Absolute darkness surrounded me and yet the feeling of motion—of inertia—made my stomach lurch. Stale air crashed into my face, making my eyes water. I closed them and tightened my grip on Byron. What struck me most as odd was that despite the tremendous speed at which we traveled, I could not hear a single one of Byron’s footfalls on the ground.

He stopped and then my stomach dropped as Byron leaped into the air. Metal crashed and shrieked. Something snapped. We moved upward and then stopped again. More screams of tortured metal filled my ears. And then we were moving again.

Pink hues filtered through my closed eyes and I opened them a little at a time. My body shifted from Byron’s back and my feet touched the concrete sidewalk. We stood next to a large, open parking lot. Murals graced the buildings around us—one depicted several sets of eyes with a slogan. Another depicted a group of women in various styles of period clothing. Ten story buildings greeted us across the intersection.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“We’re at the northwest corner of Spring Garden and Broad,” I replied, recognizing the location.

“Which way to the prison?” urgency filled his voice.

I pointed west along Spring Garden. “That way, then we turn north at North 21st.”

He grabbed my hand and almost yanked me off my feet. “Come on. We don’t have any time to waste. If that other rock eater is alive, then they’re in serious trouble. Hard enough fighting one of those things, let alone two.” He gave me a wink as I caught up to his hurried pace. “Let’s go save your aunt, again.”

~ ~ ~

We heard the occasional moans resounding from the commercial and apartment buildings abutting Spring Garden, but saw no Goners as we ran. I turned toward Dove after five or so blocks. She grabbed her right side, baring her teeth.

“You okay?” I couldn’t help the worry in my voice. We slowed to a stop.

She huffed and puffed. “You need to slow down, Byron. I can’t run as fast as you, or for nearly as long.”

“Sorry.” My muscles tightened up a little, feeling stiff.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes filling with concern.

“I’ll be okay.”

“You need to feed, don’t you?”

“We don’t have time for that, right now. Besides, if we can make it to the prison, I have my snack in the Rover.”

She cocked her head. “All right, I guess. But you need to slow down and conserve your energy. We can’t have you burning out on us if a Lord or something comes to call.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get back to the prison.”

We started off at a jog, but after a few dozen steps, she clutched her side again and slowed to a stop, stooping over. “I can’t,” she groaned through grit teeth. “I’ve got a stitch in my side, and I can’t run anymore.”

I looked up at the street sign in the distance—20th Street. “We’re almost there. Two more streets.”

“I need to rest, dammit. Give me a minute.”

Grabbing her arm, I whipped her onto my back and ran with all my strength. Townhouses and brownstones flashed by us reflecting a mix of both late nineteenth and early twentieth century Philadelphia. I turned up 21st Street and poured on more speed. More blocks passed by as I ran.

“Where is this place?” I called back to her.

“Keep going, you can’t miss it.” A pleasant chill traveled down my back as her breath brushed against my ear.

Several more blocks later, the street ended in a T-bone intersection and the massive walls of Eastern States Penitentiary loomed before us. I let Dove back down to the tarmac.

“Where is everyone?” She asked the same thing running through my mind.

“I don’t know. And I’m not sure I like it.”

“Byron, you were surrounded by a massive horde before the rock eater appeared. Where did they all go?”

I shrugged and approached an enormous hole in the pavement. “I’m not sure, but my guess would be down there somewhere.”

I could see the fear in her eyes as she stared at the opening. “But that would mean—” She never voiced her fear, but I knew what she meant. I thought the same thing. If the Goners weren’t up here with us, then they were down there with the others.

“We have no time to lose,” I said, grabbing her hand and turning my back toward her so she could climb on. “We need to get down there and help them.”

She pulled away from me. “No. You need to feed, first. If you have no energy, then going down there is useless.”

I grimaced, furrowing my brow. I didn’t like what she was saying, but only because I knew it to be true. “Fine. Let me go get my snack, and then we head down there.”

She climbed onto my back and I turned to face the prison walls. In no time, I scaled the walls and descended down to the courtyard on the other side. Finding the Rover right where we left it, I opened the back hatch and removed the container full of rats.

“You don’t want to see this,” I told her and she turned her back as I slurped down a few of the tiny morsels. My muscles felt a little better, but some stiffness remained. I know I could feed more, and that I needed to. But we didn’t have time for me to hunt. We needed to save our friends, and we needed to save them now.

“Okay,” I said, pitching the last over the prison walls. “Let’s get this show on the road.”