As the sun slowly rose, its orange light gleamed on the water. Alex tried to focus his thoughts on the activities of the colloids out in the harbor, and he struggled to get past the colloids and the milling zombies who protected them.
Suddenly he felt an exultant rush that surprised him so much that he almost cried out. It came from Jo.
She had moved closer to the water, and had seen something that they needed. A boat.
It wasn't much, just an old fireboat with rotting hoses coiled on its thirty-foot deck. Somehow the line that held it to the pier was still secured, and the fireboat had not been set adrift. Here was a way to get out to Liberty Island . . . if they could get past the infected. The brain damaged creatures were much less plentiful in Jo's vicinity, but there were still thousands of them only a few hundred feet from her hiding place, ominously crowding the broken streets.
Alex had little time to wonder at the clarity of Jo's vision, seen as it was through his own eyes. If they lived through this, there would be ample time to compare notes in the future. If they didn't live through it, then there might not be a future for anybody on the planet. With that in mind, Alex scrambled back to the fire escape and climbed down. In a few minutes he was back with the guerrillas.
"They're out on Liberty Island," he told them.
"How ironic," said Claire.
"It's far enough from the mainland that they feel safe," Alex said, "and I guess the water is probably a lot cleaner out there."
"Yes, the deeper waters are probably essential. Even after three years the water close to shore is still tainted with many toxins. The location of the breeding ground means that we have one thing to our advantage, though. There are only so many large population centers on earth situated on deep water harbors. If we win here today, we'll know where to look for the colloid breeding grounds from now on. Once we've managed to—"
"Hold thy tongue, woman," Samuel said. "This is the day for smiting our enemies, not talking."
Claire looked at Samuel with something between annoyance and amusement.
"Jo has found a boat for us," Alex said.
Everyone seemed a little confused, and Elvin asked in his flat way, "How do you know that? She's not back yet."
"Trust me," Alex said. "There's a roof a few blocks east that is a perfect place to set up the mortar." He quickly gave Irv Finney directions to the building. "You'll need a couple of people, Irv. Mavis and Judd, go with him."
The three of them got their weapons together and set off to the east. Irv had shown a knack accuracy with rocket propelled grenades in the past.
"Let's get moving, then." Riquelme shouldered the flamethrower's fuel tank and stepped forward.
"Right." Alex started moving to the west, trying to focus his thoughts on Jo to stay put, assuring her that they would join her in just a few minutes.
It was very strange, tracing the streets that Jo had taken a short while before. Her memory was stronger than a feeling of
déjà vu;
Alex had actually been on these potholed streets with her, in a very real sense. At the time, he had hardly noticed how vivid her sensory emanations were, preoccupied as he was by his own mission. He hurried to her with such surefooted assurance that the others had a difficult time keeping up with him. The litter bearers, in fact, fell a good distance behind, so Alex paused to let them catch up.
Alex understood now that the infected would pay no attention to them until they came toward the docks. Once the guerrillas attempted to move toward Liberty Island, the neonate's guardians would try to stop the attack in their largely ineffectual way. Their sheer numbers were going to pose quite a problem, but Alex thought there was a chance that the guerrillas could break through to the fireboat.
He saw Jo, just ahead. She was crouching behind the platform waiting for them. Nobody else saw her for a few seconds, but of course Alex knew exactly where she was even before her image registered on the vision centers of his brain.
Their telepathic bond grew stronger all the time, and Jo turned knowingly toward him before she could possibly know he was there through the five human senses.
Her premature response was not lost on Claire Siegel.
"You are in communication with her, aren't you, Alex?" she asked.
"Yes."
"In New Jersey, you said that your telepathic ability was vanishing. Has the proximity of the colloids brought it back?"
"Yes, I think so." He left Dr. Siegel with that and sprinted toward Jo.
"Alex," she said. "I saw what you saw . . . "
"I know," he said, "but there's no time to talk about it now. We've got to get our hands on that fireboat."
"There are so many of the infected in our way," said Jo. "Do you think we can do it?"
"What choice do we have?"
Alex watched the infected milling around, and tried to decide if the guerrillas' best bet was to go directly for the boat en masse, or for a raiding party to try to take it while the others set up a cross fire from cover. He discussed these alternatives with Jo.
"If we all go," she said, "then there won't be anybody left if we don't make it."
"So you think we shouldn't all get on the boat?"
"Right."
"Okay, but we're going to need enough people to fight the colloids and the infected once we get out on the island. What do you say we split the difference?"
"Well, that would leave us a chance if we don't succeed, all right."
"I've got a question," Claire said. "How are we going to get that boat started?"
"We've got those charged batteries, and we siphoned out the rest of the gasoline from the jeeps. We'll see if we can get the engine going. If we can't . . . then we can't. We'll have to think of something else."
Elvin, to the surprise of the Philadelphia guerrillas, and Dan Galouye each volunteered to carry a can of gasoline. The guerrillas had brought it along in case they found a vehicle on this side of the Hudson that would still run, but nobody had imagined that they would end up using it on a boat. Two other men, Clement and Stubbs, would each carry a battery. As Elvin and Galouye brought the sloshing cans forward, Alex began to pick those who would go with them if they could get the boat running.
He chose all of the original Philadelphia guerrillas, knowing that he could depend on them, and he chose Shina and Satch, who seemed as if they weren't afraid to fight. As he singled out those who were to go on the boat, he noticed Jack Crowley eagerly watching him.
Alex turned to Jack and Ronnie. "I want you two to stay here."
"No way," Jack said. "You gotta let me go with you."
Alex could not bear the thought of letting this boy die, not after what had happened to the kid's father. "We need cover when we try to take that boat," he said.
"You need to get the boat started, too," Jack said. "I can do that."
Alex didn't think that this was false bravado. There was such an expression of self-assurance and earnestness on Jack's youthful face that it seemed impractical to doubt him at this crucial juncture. "You're good with engines, huh?"
"Ask Ronnie."
"Yeah," Ronnie said. "The Harley conked out in Jersey, and Jack got it going somehow. I still don't know how he did it, but he convinced me that I shouldn't worry about it happening again. That's why I felt like we could keep on going to New York."
"Well, you should have come back as soon as he fixed the bike." In spite of his admonition, it seemed entirely likely to Alex that Jack knew a good deal more about engines than any of the adults among them. "That was a stupid thing to do."
"Sorry," Ronnie said meekly.
"Jack," Alex asked, "how long will it take you to know whether you can get that boat's motor going?"
"If I can just get a look at it for a few seconds, I'll have a pretty good idea if I can get it started."
"Okay, then the thing to do is to sneak you aboard so you can have a look at it, rather than risk everybody's lives."
"Right."
"Which means that we're going to need a diversion," Jo said.
"Hey," Alex protested, "who's the military strategist around here, me or you?"
"I've seen enough Rambo movies to figure it out," Jo said sarcastically.
"You like
Rambo?
"
Jack said in amazement.
"Not really."
"It shouldn't be too difficult to draw the attention of those infected nearest the boat, not when Irv starts firing the RPGs. Jack and the other guys will board the fireboat, see if they can get the engine started and, if they can, pour in the gasoline. Once they give us the high sign, half of us will rush the boat while the other half covers us from a block away."
"And if they don't give us the high sign?" Ronnie asked, worry evident on her pretty face.
"If they start coming for you, Jack," Alex said, "dive in the harbor and swim for it. They won't follow you into the water, and once you've gotten away from where they're massed, I don't think you'll be in any danger from them."
"Your only danger will be from pneumonia at that point," Jo said sarcastically.
"Nevertheless, it might be your only way out. Don't hesitate to dive in, no matter how cold the water might be."
"Okay." Jack's jaw was set in grim determination. He intended to vindicate his father's memory today, one way or another.
"I'd like to go along," Harry, one of the men from New Jersey said. "Pat Crowley and me went back a long ways."
"You got it." Alex turned back to the others. "Let's go," he said.
Everyone checked their firearms, took off the safeties, and followed Alex as he jogged out into the street. He ran straight for the nearest of the infected, shouting: "Here we come, you son of a bitches!"
He fired at one of them, seeing the creature's knees buckle as it fell back against its brethren. A few of the other guerrillas fired into the mob, too, wasting as little ammunition as possible while making sure that the infected knew they were being attacked by a sizable force.
At first the infected seemed confused. They moved in all directions at once, bumping into each other like Keystone Kops. Alex ran straight toward them and turned within a yard of the closest, thirty guerrillas following his path.
Like the pseudopod of a giant colloid, hundreds of the infected lunged clumsily toward them. They caught up with those at the rear of the column, but a few well placed gun shots extricated the guerrillas.
An RPG whumped into the asphalt fifty yards to the east. Now Alex led the guerrillas away from the infected. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that there was a spot near the fireboat where no more than ten or fifteen of the infected stood. Jack and Harry were running straight toward that soft spot in the colloids' defenses. Behind them were Elvin, Galouye, Clement, and Stubbs, straining under the weight of gasoline cans and car batteries. A second mortar round burst on the asphalt, this one only missing by a few yards.
Harry, a big man, bowled two of the infected over, and clubbed another with his rifle. Galouye swung the gasoline can and smashed in an infected head with a resounding clang.
Jack shot a man who staggered toward him. Two others, lunging at him, tripped over the body and sprawled at the feet of their assailants.
The hundreds of infected who were reeling toward the guerrillas began to turn in all directions, confused by the sounds of combat coming from in front of them and behind them as the mortar rounds fell steadily, exploding in their ranks. Alex's heart swelled with hope that this actually might work.
And then a small figure dashed away from the guerrillas and toward the fireboat.
"Ronnie!" Jo shouted. "No!"
But it was too late. The kid was with Jack right in the middle of the action, almost before the words were out of Jo's mouth. Ronnie was able to catch up with Jack and the other guys easily, because they had been slowed down by the mano a mano fighting. Alex wanted to help them, but he didn't dare risk a shot at this distance. The kids and Harry were too close to the last few infected between them and the boat.
Jack shot one of the infected in the chest, and a huge meaty chunk flew out of her back. The woman, dead on her feet, spun and landed in the arms of one of his companions. The encumbered one howled in frustration and fell backwards into the water, still holding onto the corpse. The splash rained on some of the milling infected who still stumbled about in confusion. But their ranks were closing, more and more of them turning toward the kids and Harry.
They weren't going to make it.
"There goes the fucking plan." The words might have come out of Alex's mouth, but they didn't. He looked at Jo, and she looked back at him. Without another word, they sprinted toward the kids, bellowing at the top of their lungs.
Alex fired the Ingram carefully, watching the infected fall like sheaves of wheat each time he squeezed off a few rounds. Jo fired only a couple of shots as they gained on the kids, Elvin, and the other four. Jack and Ronnie disappeared behind a screen of diseased human flesh. Harry went down, screaming, and disappeared almost immediately. Dozens of the infected were on top of him, tearing at him with hands, nails, teeth.
Alex swept the Ingram across the mob, trying to save Harry. But it was too late. Then Dan went down. Alex saw the red gasoline can lying on the ground, a trail of deeper red next to it. There wasn't much left of Dan, but he could still hear Jack, Ronnie, Elvin, Stubbs, and Clement shouting imprecations at their enemies.
Jo and Alex were side by side, firing into the mob. Bodies were falling everywhere, punctured by bullets. But the infected kept coming.
Were the guerrillas following them? Alex didn't dare to look back to see. He and Jo had their hands full, and now he had fired enough rounds so that the Ingram was getting hot. He felt cold hands grabbing his arms and legs. He didn't care. The madness overtook him as he killed three more people. He heard Jo screaming with bloodlust, as she slaughtered the infected by his side.
She screamed in his mind, too, sharing his mania, his hatred, and his pain.