Last Fight of the Valkyries (24 page)

Indigo sat in shock.

The driver's door hung wide open. She stared at it, imagining that
someone was going to see it and jump inside at any second.

You have to move. Go follow her. Be a good daughter.

She didn't listen to that voice inside her head.

A minute went by. The door was still open. People ran by. One man
clipped it and tumbled over the edge.

Close it. Do something!

The voice was insistent, but her body would not respond.

Another minute went by. She began to imagine it would be her mom
that came back through the door. Of course she would come back to
save her daughter.

Of course. But where is she? Run, girl.

That voice was new. Could she run? Shouldn't she wait for mom? She
imagined the trouble she'd be in if she didn't wait.

“Mom said wait for help. There was help here. Follow the
crowds.” She talked to herself to steel her soul for what she
was about to do.

Still, she waited.

Just one more minute.

And then someone came inside the door. More like she bounced off
the door and fell inside. The blood from the thing splashed violently
all over the dashboard.

Indigo was no longer herself.

She saw a hand that looked exactly like hers open the door, then
slam it shut. The thing in her mother's seat looked at her, but she
ignored what it was.

Run girl, run!

3

The first mistake she appreciated was forgetting her shoes. She'd
been in the car so long she'd long since kicked off her fancy sandals
to stay comfortable in the cramped space.

That, however, was minor compared to her second mistake.

“This is unreal,” she shouted.

She had only made it fifteen feet from her car when she looked
inside the white van they'd been following. A young woman's face was
squished up against the glass near the back seats. Her hair was a
bloody, clumpy, mess. Long strands had been pasted with the sticky
red glue so as she leaned forward her hair stuck to the glass. It
made it appear she had the wind in her hair.

Others inside the van were thrashing about. She'd gotten too
close. She didn't dare look at them. Instead, she squatted down and
moved past it at a tentative pace. There was so much going on, she
didn't know what to do.

“I could run back with momma. Take care of her.”

You'd die.

“I could just go back up the ramp, get out of the pit.”

You'd die.

“Hide?”

You'd die.

“Well dammit, what do you want me to do?”

She answered her own question when she looked down to the mouth of
the mine. Everyone who could run headed for it. The lights of the
cars down there were strobing as people ran through their beams.

Even on her section of road, the stream of people running downhill
continued to swell. All cars had stopped.

In the distance, she heard a train horn. And, o' happy day, the
sun would soon be up. Almost in a blink, she realized the light of
day was creeping into the spiral of death around her.

She took off. Down.

A few minutes went by and another man fell from the sky. He landed
just short of a large RV parked on the narrow road. He'd come from
twenty or thirty feet above and crumpled before her eyes. She slowed
just enough to see the man's head tilt toward her. The bones of his
legs had shattered and looked like a sick broom with the
bristle-shards projecting from his calves.

“Better luck next time, loser.” Her resolve improved
as she continued to run in the wide circle, nearing the bottom as the
light of the sun drenched the upper crust of the far side of the
quarry like hot butter on a bagel.

Her stomach complained as she thought about it.

More train horns. It was approaching the quarry, though she was
too far down to know from which way. She was near the flats at the
bottom, but took the time to look at the road she'd just come down.
People continued to enter the mine on the top tier—they ran
along the edge for the most part—though some tried to go back
out as they saw what they were getting into.

Gunfire had become commonplace throughout the night as well. She
couldn't remember when it started. It just
was
. Now the
chatter was constant.

She told herself that was her third mistake of the young morning.
Without a weapon, she was as helpless as a new babe against the sort
of horrible people she'd seen arguing with the people in the van. And
now the people
in
the van. And the not-dead jumper. And the
person in her mom's seat. They'd been ruined by some kind of
sickness.

“Think. You have to think.”

She steadied herself against the back of a black jeep Wrangler.
The truck had the plastic windows and cloth top, making it dead
simple to look inside. The answer stared her in the face.

It took five minutes to scramble inside the unlocked Jeep, figure
out how to get into the tight back seat, and then unscrew the bolts
to free the offroader's jack. She threw it out the door, and jumped
out after it.

It was too heavy to carry as it was, but she figured out how to
remove the base and the other non-essentials. The pace of people
running by dwindled...which made her body scream in fear. But her
mind kept her on task.

“You can do this. This is your ticket, girl.”

After too much time, she had what she needed. The narrow metal bar
for the jack was about four feet long, made of heavy steel, and it
had holes along the length which made it lighter and gave it the
appearance of a small ladder. She picked it up and felt its weight.

She was very short for her age, but very strong.

“Look out world, I'm a teen dynamo!”

She swung the metal bar from side to side, testing her agility
with it, and felt pretty proud for equipping herself with something
useful.

She looked again in the Jeep, hoping against hope for a pair of
shoes.

That's when a pudgy middle-age man ran up from behind her and
shoved her hard into the open door.

“Give me that!” His eyes were crazed, and only saw the
red bar she'd set next to her.

But the man was winded and clumsy in his efforts. Though she was
surprised, she wasn't injured. She adeptly grabbed the bar and let it
fall to the ground. She then stepped around the door, reached down to
the bar and picked it up. In the amount of time that took, another
man—one of the sick ones—had run up behind the first.

She stood up, weapon at the ready, and watched in disbelief as the
blood splashed all over the glass of the open door. She lurched to
avoid it before realizing the window was closed.

She ran from the screams of the man.

She ran from screams of the roadway above her.

Into the earth.

The screaming continued there, but at least she had a weapon. And
she resolved that not one person would ever stop her from surviving
whatever came next.

The lights of the tunnel were bright into the distance, but a long
flicker caused everyone to scream wildly.

Everyone but her.

4

Marty woke from her nap with a start. The feel of the electricity
in her head faded fast.

She struggled to find her rosary. The dreams felt more real than
ever, and while she suspected all these visions of the girl who left
with Liam were merely her imagination playing tricks on her, she
couldn't help feel there was something more to it. The girl—Blue,
Saffron, Indigo, whatever she called herself—was dangerous.

Sadly, she couldn't pick up the phone and warn him.

“I found something,” whispered Victoria.

“A flashlight?”

“No, something better. I think it's a tire changer tool.”

She showed it to him by holding it up in the faint light coming
from far behind. It was a piece of steel about twenty inches long,
shaped like the letter L. On the short end, it had a fitting to
remove the lug nuts from a wheel. On the other—

“Oh yeah. It's sharp.” He heard the smile in her
voice, though her face remained masked in deep shadow. They'd found a
few cars with working lights, but as they continued further into the
industrial mine's tunnel they had trouble finding vehicles with power
in their batteries. They might have been run down back when the cars
first arrived. That was his best guess.

“Keep it close.”

He didn't want to worry her, but he couldn't temper his own
concern. Blue and Pink were many cars ahead. They weren't very good
at keeping quiet. Once, one of them even slammed a door shut. Yet he
couldn't yell at them. If they found trouble, he didn't know what
he'd do.

Behind him, he could hear footsteps and the angry moans of the
infected. They should have caught up to them already, but they'd been
leaving car doors open wherever they could and that was—he
believed—slowing them down.

In another minute, he almost ran into one of the girls. They'd
stopped and waited near the driver's door of a late model sedan.

“There's a blinking light in this one, but we can't see
inside. It has tinted windows. Should we open it?”

A howl from behind. It was hard to judge distance of sound in the
confined space, but he thought it was very close.

A hand pounded on the window of the mystery car.

“Get out of here,” he quietly urged them all.

A faint voice yelped from inside the car. “Don't go!”
The door latch clicked as Liam hung between running and staying. The
others had already moved out, including Victoria.

He pivoted back, but stayed away from the door. “Are you
OK?”

The door opened with a loud squeak. The hinge needed some oil. A
dim light spilled out from the car. The man held a flashlight.

“Is this a rescue,” the man inquired. The light was
dim, but the man pointed it in Liam's eyes. He still didn't get out
of the car. “I'm not getting out unless you have a platoon of
soldiers with you.”

Liam moved so he could see inside the car. As he got closer, the
stench of the filth overwhelmed him.

“Oh my—” He put his hand over his mouth, cutting
himself off.

“I have to know. Is the Army here to rescue me?”

The man on the rear seat wore fatigues. Liam didn't care to
ascertain what branch he was with. Instead, he took a step back
toward the tunnel wall. He tried to make it look casual, though it
didn't look like the man much cared.

“No, I guess not. You're just a kid. Those others were just
kids, too, weren't they? Do you have any food?” The flashlight
was in his face again. “Just a little? I've been here for...”

The flashlight went to the man's watch.

“A week. A week,” he repeated with surprise. “Water
drips from the ceiling, but not food.”

He's not right.

Louder, the man repeated himself. “Kid, I said, do you have
any food?” The beam, weak as it was, landed on his face. But
now the man had his feet outside the door.

“N-no, sir. We've been looking for food in here.” He
was always looking for food.

“Liar. Kids always lie.” The man reached for something
behind him. The light moved up to the man's head, and he tucked the
flashlight between his head and shoulders. That gave him a free hand
so he could bring his gun around and spin the revolver's cylinder
like he was in a cowboy western.

“Don't really recall how many bullets I got anymore.”
He snorted, then chuckled, like he'd remembered something. “You
feel lucky, kid?” More laughing. He was too loud.

“Let's find out.” The guy stood up, but had to lean
heavily against the open car door. His light was still wedged in his
neck like he was holding a phone to his ear.

“Been a while since I've stood up. Feels good.”

Liam wanted to run, but the man was so close he didn't think he
could get away. This had all happened so fast, he wasn't prepared for
it. As he stood waiting, his mind imagined shapes lurking just
outside the reach of the glow of the flashlight. Zombies had to be
nearby…

The man was pretty big. When he finally took a step from the
support of the door, he straightened up, and Liam guessed he was well
over six feet tall.

He weakly held his spear, knowing it was useless in this
situation.

Delay. Every second of life counts.

“You can search me. I don't have anything.”

“You know what they do with liars in the Army? They shoot
'em!” The man laughed with lots of nervous energy.

Liam didn't think that was exactly true, but he wasn't going to
smart back.

The gun came out of the darkness; its smooth outline was well
defined by the flashlight behind it.

Smile for the camera.

Liam saw the details of the gun in his face for just a fraction of
a second. A flash of light filled the tunnel; during that instant, he
saw behind the man.

The soldier's gun went off just as the other burst faded.

He felt something hot snap at his left ear. The pain was
confusing, as his head was assaulted by the sound of the two
gunshots. He was unable to judge if the pain was due to his ear drums
exploding, or something else.

All the gunplay happened in slow motion, though strangely his
concern was elsewhere. His eyes focused on something he'd seen during
that initial wave of light. The light had gone out like a radar
pulse. His mind assembled the data and reported its findings.

A zombie squatted on the roof of the car behind them.

Its head was cocked as it looked right at him.

2

The soldier fell over where he stood. The light flickered as it
slammed into the rocky ground.

Victoria, with the Glock, stood in triumph. She spoke, but Liam
couldn't hear her over the constant scream in his ears.

He reached down for the flashlight and yelled, “Run!”
as loud as he could. In moments, he and Victoria raced along the
narrow space between the wall of the tunnel and the cars parked in
the long traffic jam. They quickly caught up to both of the girls.
They'd been moving as instructed, but were unable to run until he
caught up with the only portable light in this section of the tunnel.