"Yeah, I guess there is a difference."
"Indeed there is, sir." The old man looked straight at him, and Alex was almost startled by the blue clarity of his eyes. They were the eyes of someone thirty years younger than this man.
"What's your name?" Jo asked him.
He turned back to her, and opened his mouth. No words came for a few seconds, as if he were struggling to remember. At last he said, "Samuel."
"My name is Jo, Samuel. And this is Alex."
"This man is a warrior," said Samuel. "The Lord has protected him from harm in this wasteland. And now he has been sent to help you, Jo."
"Help me do what?"
Samuel bowed his head. "I don't know, for I have not been given that knowledge. The Lord will make His purpose clear in His own good time."
"Yeah, I guess He will." It occurred to Alex that he might have run into this man on the streets of Center City before the war. There were so many street people, sad schizophrenics with no place to go. It was ironic that so many of them had survived, while most of those who had gotten along in the old days were gone. The meek had inherited the earth, after all—what was left of it.
"When was the last time you had something to eat, Samuel?" Alex asked. "We've got a little food we can share."
Jo looked at him with surprise.
"The Lord's work is demanding," Alex said, pulling a can of pineapple chunks from his pack and pulling the tab. "Can't do it on an empty stomach."
"Yours is a generous spirit, my son," Samuel said. "I know the Lord will take note of what you have done."
"You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"
But Samuel was too busy wolfing down the sweet fruit chunks to answer. He squatted by the brick wall and enjoyed himself.
"How do you suppose he survived all this time?" said Jo. "He's so old and slow moving."
"Perhaps the Lord is protecting him," Alex said.
"Right."
He laughed. "Well, what's your explanation?"
Jo shrugged, and turned to Samuel. "I don't know, but maybe he can help us find Ishan."
"Ishan?" Samuel looked up, wiping juice from his lips. "I know that sinful street."
Jo offered a quick I-told-you-so glance to Alex. "Is it far from here, Samuel?"
"No, not at all. The Lord directed my path to that street many times, before the evil befell the world. It was as if divine forces had wanted me to take note of it each time I passed it."
Alex began to wonder if the old guy really did know where it was. A schizophrenic might say anything. On the other hand, he probably knew West Philly better than they did.
"Could you lead us there?" Jo asked.
"Yes, I shall lead you, since you have been so kind as to share your food with me." Samuel rose from the broken bricks and raised his plastic staff. "Come, follow me."
Alex could hardly refrain from laughing. There was only a remote chance that Samuel knew where he was going, but even so, it would do little harm to humor Jo. After all, who knew what they might find while they went around in circles. West Philly probably wasn't picked clean yet.
As they walked, always clinging to the shadows of gutted buildings, Alex tried to get his bearings. He thought they were somewhere near 34th Street. It seemed that Samuel actually might be leading them in the general direction of Lancaster Avenue, at the very least.
At the summit of a hill, Samuel turned and barred their way with his staff. "Satan's minions wait below," he said. "We can go no farther."
There were three people moving through the razed houses at the foot of the hill.
"Wait here," Alex said, feeling the adrenalin flow. He slipped around the protesting Samuel and crouched in what had once been an alley, now little more than a rough trench cutting through the weather-packed debris.
Taking a circuitous route, Alex silently made his way down toward the three shambling figures. He crawled through a bombed-out basement, oblivious to the sharp edges of the bricks gouging his skin through the holes in his clothing. At the bottom of a stairway, he waited. If he had guessed right, at least one of the three should be passing by in a few seconds.
Alex's calculations proved to be correct. The thing walked right past him, and from his low vantage Alex got a good look. Good enough to see blue blotches on the gaunt man's face. Infected; in an early stage, but irrevocable. The poor bastard didn't even have Victor's miserable option of hacking off a limb. It would have taken an experienced surgeon to cut it out of his face.
Before moving on, Alex waited until he could no longer hear the scuffing of the infected man's shoes. He went back the way he had come, careful not to be seen by the other two infected people. Emerging from the basement, he heard Jo scream.
Dropping any attempt at caution, Alex sprinted back up the hill, simultaneously releasing the Ingram's safety. As soon as he came into the open, he saw what had happened.
They were all around Jo and Samuel, the latter brandishing his white plastic pipe to ward them off. They were all in the early stages, still recognizably human in shape. They had suckered Alex into leaving his group.
Now they were attacking.
Alex didn't dare to shoot, because the infected—ten or twelve strong—were too close to Jo and Samuel. He would have to move fast.
Now that he was out in the open, however, he realized that he had underestimated their attackers once again. More bodies lurched out of doorways and blasted cellars, coming straight for him.
He waited until three of them were close together, and fired a sweeping burst to cut them down. He had effectively broken a hole in their ranks, and he charged through with his head down, like a bull. On the hilltop, Jo's attackers hesitated at the sound of the gunshots. One of them turned awkwardly toward him, a naked woman with the telltale blue patches all over her pale skin.
Alex shot her down without hesitation.
Jo had both pistols out, and she pointed the .32 directly at the face of the nearest zombie. She fired once and pivoted to face the next assailant. The .44 blew the right arm off this one.
Clutching the pipe like a baseball bat, Samuel flailed at them. He connected with a wet, meaty smack, sending one of the infected men into a splayed somersault.
As Alex gained the top of the hill, bony hands reached for him. He used the stock of the Ingram to fend them off, and kicked the fallen attackers out of the way. He shot two more down to clear a path.
"Get moving!" he shouted, turning to cover those who were still standing. As Jo and Samuel ran, Alex shot the nearest of the infected, satisfied to see the one behind it stumble over the body. He turned around and ran after Jo and Samuel. There was no danger of this bunch catching up with them now. Even in the early stages of infection, motor response was severely debilitated.
He caught up with Samuel and Jo a few blocks away. "It's all right," he said, breathing heavily from exertion. "They're way back there."
"But if there are any others nearby they will know we're here," Samuel said. Except for a residue of sweat on his lined face, he showed no signs of the struggle.
"Yeah, we'll keep our eyes peeled." Alex gestured to the east. "Meantime, do you think there's any other way to get to Ishan?"
Samuel's brow furrowed as if an invisible engraver were at work on his forehead. "That
is
Ishan Street."
"That's what I was afraid of."
"Don't you see what this means, Alex?" Jo said, her face flushed. "The infected must be looking for Victor's stash, too."
"Not necessarily. They could just have wandered into this neighborhood."
"Freshly infected, and with a plan of attack against intruders? Come on."
"You may be right, Jo. But that means there's no chance to search for the stash. If I'm right, we can come back later and start all over again. If you're right, we might as well forget it."
Jo looked back toward Ishan Street. "We have to try."
"Then let's lie low for a while. We'll check it out in a few days. If they're still here, we'll know they're looking for Victor's stash. And if they
are
looking for it, how did they learn about it in the first place?"
"I don't know, but I'd really like to find out what he hid down there."
"Wouldn't we both?" They were walking toward the river. There was no sense in staying in West Philadelphia under the circumstances.
"What about Samuel?" Jo asked, as they reached the tunnel mouth.
Alex turned and glanced at the older man, who walked behind them solemnly. "Well, he got along all right without us before. I guess he can do it again."
"But he helped us find what we were looking for, Alex," Jo said. "We can't just leave him to fend for himself. We might not have been able to fight our way out if he hadn't been with us."
Alex had his doubts about that. It seemed to him that the Ingram had made the difference. But he had seen the old man swinging his pipe like Barry Bonds; Samuel's support hadn't hurt them. Still, there were certain considerations to be made. They were living from moment to moment, with barely enough food for themselves, much less another person.
"Do you really think it's a good idea?" he said. "I know he said you were the Chosen One, but we've still gotta eat."
Jo glared at him, and Alex decided that it was no good to object. Reason was clearly not what would determine this decision. He shrugged, overruled. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. There would be strength in numbers, and Samuel probably wouldn't eat very much.
Alex turned and said, "So, Samuel, do you want to come with us?"
Samuel shook his gray head. "I cannot join you. My mission is to return to the wilderness, where I shall remain until I receive further signs from God."
Somehow, this announcement did not tempt Alex to laugh. Leaving Samuel alone seemed tantamount to a death sentence, with the infected roaming these streets. But Alex remembered what the schizophrenics had been like at the hospital. There was no arguing with them.
"Thank you for what you did," Alex said.
Sternly, Samuel nodded in acknowledgment of their gratitude. He turned and, using the pipe as a walking stick, made his way back through the endless maze of wrecked houses, whence he had come.
Alex and Jo shifted some of the trash around and entered the tunnel. There was enough light so that they didn't have to use the lantern for the first hundred feet or so, as they passed under the river.
"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" said Jo.
"I don't know."
A couple of hours later they had made their way through the steam vents and sewers, and were approaching their nest.
"There's no place like home," Jo said.
Alex laughed. He helped Jo up into the shaft and they divested themselves of their equipment and clothing. Lust came over them suddenly, perhaps as a result of the danger they had faced this afternoon. The notion that there's nothing like the proximity of death to make one appreciate life flitted briefly through Alex's mind. But soon he was preoccupied with less philosophical matters.
As Alex kissed her deeply, Jo slowly descended on him. Moving languorously at first, they locked together in a hot love embrace, rocking back and forth with increasing speed. He kneaded her soft skin as she ran her fingers through his hair with one hand and caressed his back with the other. Some time later, they climaxed together.
Deeply satisfied, Alex examined Jo's face with his fingertips. "You're beautiful," he said.
She laughed. "And you're crazy."
"That's true, but you're still beautiful."
They disentangled and slept for awhile. Something awakened Alex during the night. A splashing in the water below. Perhaps it was only a rat. Or maybe some lost soul trying to get away from the colloids.
Alex reached for the Ingram, just in case. Even in this total darkness, he knew exactly where to find it.
Nudging Jo, he whispered to her to get dressed. He heard more soft splashing, as if the intruder were trying to be stealthy. He could tell from the way Jo breathed that she heard it too. She fumbled with her clothes in the darkness, and then Alex heard her checking the chamber of the .32.
They waited. The next splash was much nearer than the previous one. Alex had no doubts now; whoever it was, was coming straight towards them. He got his hunting knife out of the pack.
He clicked off the safety, and Jo did the same. He could hear her breathing, but nothing else. His heart grew large in his chest. An eternity seemed to pass, an eternity in which nothing happened. He could almost believe that the intruder had passed them by. Almost . . . but not quite.
Something was on the ledge. An animal? A hand? Alex knew how to find out. He swept the hunting knife before him low over the ledge, blade first, in a broad arc. He heard a scream, followed by loud splashing.
And then there was silence again.
Whoever was down there knew where they were. Alex and Jo didn't know how many they were up against, and they weren't about to light the lantern to find out. If those outside were human marauders with guns, they were finished. If not, they were in pretty good shape. The shaft was not easily accessible, and only one person at a time could climb up on the ledge to get in. If these were infected people, quick movements were out of the question.
There was the sound of heavy breathing as somebody tried to climb up. Alex estimated about where the attacker's head would be and aimed a well-placed kick. His boot connected with a hard, meaty smack: there was a groan, followed by a loud splash.
Now the water below them was alive with movement. More than one was coming up this time. A deafening burst from the Ingram illuminated three blotchy faces for an instant. Half the head of the nearest was blown away as the shaft was plunged into darkness again.
"How many did you see down below?" he said.
"I don't know, but there are a lot of them," Jo replied.
"Maybe we better—" Fingers clutched at his ankle. He tried to strike at it with the gun butt, but succeeded only in painfully hitting himself on the foot. The hand gained a firm grip on his ankle, pulling him toward the brink. Alex didn't dare to shoot, for fear that he would blow his own leg off in the dark.