Last Fight of the Valkyries (6 page)

“Deceased? A zombie?” Looking at the data brought her
out of her glamour. Jumping from the 29
^th
floor was now
the
last
thing she wanted to do.

Ms. Dawes nipped her heels, but was a fraction of a second too
late. Blue knew she was coming and had time to push herself off the
railing. She vacated the space even while the zombie filled it.
Recovering, Blue planted her feet, lowered her head, and threw
herself into the bloodied woman.

Caught mid-turn, the zombie was off-balance. It was Blue's
opportunity to push
her
over the edge. She watched her fall
for a moment, but was distracted again by the girl below. She was now
screaming bloody murder in Blue's direction. All that was missing was
the shaking fist of rage.

“Why I outta!” An image of a Stooge. An ember.

She resumed her run and finished with a sprint as she reached the
door under the EXIT sign. She didn't need to look back to know the
chase would be close.

This one wasn't welded shut. In seconds, she was through. The door
opened inward and there wasn't a chance to get it blocked. She ran up
to the next floor, pulled open the final fire door, and forced it
shut once she was through. The powerful hydraulic compressor resisted
her, almost as if it wanted her to get caught. The zombies nipping
her heels reached the door a tense second after the satisfying click.
As far as she knew, zombies weren't smart enough to turn handles or
pull open a heavy door. “God help us if they do.”

Sun beat down on her from above. The penthouse level was a
restaurant or lounge of some kind, with a glass ceiling and a
glass-like floor. She took a few tentative steps and devoured the
horrible scene below her.

Each of the levels had at least a few zombies meandering around.
Some levels had many.

“Let's look up top, shall we?”

The access door for the roof was nearby. There was no drama
walking up a single flight of stairs to the glass door at the top. It
was designed to allow visitors to explore the roof of the hotel. She
should have breathing room up there.

“Again, as long as zombies can't open doors.”

To Blue it was a joke, but something deep in her memory told her
to be careful. It was often fatal to underestimate an adversary. No
matter how ridiculous the notion.

The sunny skies and warm breeze greeted her with cheer. On any
other day, a tour of a hotel observation platform like this one would
be filled with smiling faces and running children. The clicks of
photography equipment would be complemented by the know-it-alls
providing the names and history of the buildings in the St. Louis
skyline.

“Here's Busch Stadium. That's where the Cardinals play.”

“That one there, that's One Metropolitan Square. It's the
tallest in St. Louis.”

“And if you look the other way, you can't miss the Gateway
Arch. Tallest structure around, topping out at 630 feet. Robed in
shimmering stainless steel so it will last forever.”

“Pffft. None of that matters anymore. A structure's value is
only measured in how well it can keep out zombies. And
nothing
lasts forever.”

Her computer interface activated, as if knowing she would need it
here.

The roof and platform were unfinished. Construction
equipment—including a huge crane anchored to the building—and
various types of building materials were scattered everywhere. The
hotel was brand new, and sat at the southwest corner of the verdant
parkland underneath the Gateway Arch. The vibrant green of the grass
and trees met the dull brown of the Mississippi on the far side of
the park. The main area of downtown was to her left—the west. A
brand new football stadium was north of the Arch, providing a stark
contrast to the ancient brownstone buildings nearby. East, across the
river, were factory smokestacks, railyards, and dilapidated buildings
as far as she could see.

Normally the view would be rated as “spectacular,” or
“must see,” but Blue leaned in despair against the
retaining wall of the viewing platform. Below her, as far as she
could see in the park, people huddled together, well behind a line of
armed men and women protecting them in the park.

Her memory flooded back as the scene before her helped jog some of
her missing memories. She fought her way through that swarm, into the
hotel, and up to the top level. She couldn't quite recall the
circumstances that got her shut into that dark room, but it was
trying to come back.

>>Subject: Battle of St. Louis. Computing...

Unlike the data on individual zombies back inside, the interface
took a long time to call up the information requested. Blue could
sense the mainframe accessing exabytes of data. Geo-locations of tens
of thousands of phones. Police radio frequencies. The Arch website.
Shipping manifests of barge towboats plowing the Mississippi river.
Automotive maintenance schedules of the cars in her field of view.
Construction blueprints of the buildings facing the park to her left,
and of the Arch directly in front of her. The number of cups
delivered to the coffee shop in the lobby of a nearby building.
Ballistics data for the .50 caliber shells littering the streets
below.

She raised the goggles, on a hunch. None of what she saw on the
computer screen was actually happening below. Instead, there was just
bombed-out wreckage and countless bodies being picked over by birds.
Though the sea of zombies everywhere else was consistent in both
versions.

She put the goggles back on, watching what she figured out had to
be a replay of what took place down there.

An M1A2 Abrams tank's engine whined in the canyon of the street
below.

“Rock n' roll.”
That
was a replay she could
appreciate.

The lone tank drove through crowds of zombies almost directly
below her. Sixty-eight tons of steel crushed the dead as it cruised
along the few streets not packed with abandoned cars. Even from
thirty stories up Blue could see the armored hulk was bathed in blood
as it created a furrow in the zombie horde. It paused and the
automated machine gun on top came to life; it punched into the mass
of zombies around the tank—those still standing—and
elicited more bloodletting. For a beautiful moment, there were almost
no upright zombies within a cone fifty yards wide near the slayer.
The pause didn't last long. As soon as the engines revved up to move,
the inexorable wave of the undead sloshed back into the cleared
space, though more than a few tripped or slipped over the entrails of
their fallen brethren. Many dropped down to lap up the pools of
blood.

Blue's stomach tried to hide.

The tank was the main attraction, but the rest of the park was no
less impressive. A cordon had been created around the entire green
space. Almost a mile long and half a mile wide, the island of green
was filled with refugees. The air carried the lamentation of
children, likely afraid of both the zombies at their door and the
loud cracks of gunfire keeping the monsters at bay. The police had
created a thin blue line of protection around the park. On this side,
untold infected. On that side, a remnant of life trying to escape the
city.

The computer spewed out information. As she thought about certain
elements of the picture, the interface called up facts of relevance.
She was catching on.

“Tell me about the bridges. Why aren't people going across
to Illinois.”

>>Bridges: Order given, General Hodges, II Corps, United
States Army. No civilians allowed to transit bridges from Missouri to
Illinois. Preventative to stop infection. Additional data: Secret
order, General Hodges, from CENTCOM. Terminate groups of 50 or more
zombies by any means necessary. Collateral damage of human civilians
authorized. All bridges to Missouri to be destroyed.

“That figures.”

The computer seemed to return to its original query, listing every
piece of minutia it could find in the landscape in front of her. It
was too much.

“Computer. Where can I get safe?”

>>Safety. Negative infection. Computing…

Reams of data spun in front of her once more, revealing an answer.

She ran from the north side of the building to the south. The
computer had a green haze attached to an MRAP currently plowing
through an ocean of zombies.

“So I have to get off this building, get through those
zombies, and hitch a ride?” She looked down at her ruined
blouse and pants. “And all I have is one lousy shotgun and
these bloody clothes.” Thinking for a long while, she realized
she had the most important survival tool already on her person.

“Computer, show me a safe route.”

Her eyes studied the maps and data, absorbing as much as she could
on the fly. She was happy the computer showed her a way that
didn't
involve going back inside.

“Time to improvise.” In a few minutes, she assembled
enough construction rope and fire hose to get her down the side of
the building. She threw it all over, but noticed another wire was
already hanging down the exterior. It came out an open space only a
few floors below. She wondered if that's how she got in.

The thought spun up the computer interface.

>>Path of ingress. Blue.

She watched herself on surveillance cameras. She didn't climb the
wire, but instead entered through a window from the roof of the
parking garage far below. Another much taller woman entered with her.
At the sight of the mysterious woman, an ember of a past life floated
by.

“Let's jog Forest Park, huh?”

The next scene showed them sneaking into the hotel atrium. With
weapons slung, they carried long metal stakes. They planted them on
the floor when zombies ran at them. The tips drove into the skulls.
It was bloody business.

They reached the open stairwell; small flashlights were out.
Camera after camera showed them ascending. As they neared the top, an
interior security camera showed several zombies standing on floor 30.
As if they were waiting at the door.

“Impossible. Zombies can't plan.” A pause. “Unless
someone put them there.”

Even watching herself she felt the dread of what was coming. There
had to be twenty zombie men and women standing behind that door. Did
chance place them there? She couldn't decide—didn't want to
believe it was a trap set by someone.

Level 28.

Level 29.

She queried the computer, desperate to jump ahead.

>>Subject: Ms. Juvy Manzano. Status: Deceased.

“Oh sweet Jesus.”

At the thirtieth floor, the two of them stepped out. Blue noted
she was toting an AK-47 and the other woman—Juvy—carried
the Mossberg. She watched the replay as the trap was sprung.

Blue rolled through the door. From one knee, she began firing at
the zombies standing ten or fifteen feet away. Juvy emerged from the
darkness at about the same time. She swept both sides of the open
door, catching the closest zombies before they could spring at Blue.
A body fell into the doorway.

The scene went on. They systematically swept the remaining zombies
in a well-orchestrated display of gun handling. One shot at zombies
close up, the other aimed for those in a ring further away. Together
they brought down a considerable number of the attackers with little
direct threat to themselves.

The scene shifted. Another camera showed scores of zombies
climbing the stairwell. It was a mixture of every size, shape, and
state of decay. The snippets of camera footage in the stairwells was
a horrible kaleidoscope of zombiedom. Little kids in happy-colored
clothes ran with large men wearing basketball uniforms. All rising in
the tube of the stairwell. Heading for her and Juvy.

The first of the undead tumbled out of the doorway. The dead body
had kept that door from sealing. She remembered it all now that she
saw it. She was scared when they came through. They were both
surprised. That
never
happened before. The two women on the
camera looked stunned. Distracted.

From another camera view, Blue realized why.

“That little bitch.” The young woman in the raincoat
was there, on the floor below, looking up at the action. She had some
kind of hold on her and Juvy.

More zombies tumbled out of the darkness. Juvy snapped out of it
first, grabbing Blue's arm and pulling her along the walkway. Toward
a room she knew.

The scene shifted to one last camera. Both women stood at the
doorway to the hotel room where she'd woken up. Her own figure was
trying to hold off the increasing number of zombies coming out of the
stairwell while Juvy worked at the room's door. Some crept along the
railing, out of their view in the replay, as Dawes had done.

As Juvy opened the door, a zombie from inside met the push of
zombies—and the girls—from outside. At the last moment,
Juvy tried to push Blue inside and shut the door, but the swarm
carried them all in. For a full minute, the scene showed the mass of
zombies standing outside, excited at the prospect of food. There was
no room for more to go in…

Blue broke into tears. It was clear now what had to happen.

“How did I survive?” She said it without emotion. It
seemed impossible.

The computer threw up a crap ton of data, but didn't answer the
question. There was no camera in the room. Blue took it to mean the
computer didn't want to admit she had asked the impossible of it.

There was Juvy at the door. She had taken the AK-47. She lined up
each shot in rapid succession at point blank range, felling the
zombies at a torrid pace. It was an impossible display of skill and
luck. When she had created a little hole for herself, she turned
around and used both hands to pull the hotel room door shut. How many
bodies were lying in that space?

Blue fast-forwarded the camera in her mind, getting past the
horrible end of Juvy. Her body must have been in that pile outside
the room where she woke up…