Infamy: A Zombie Novel (8 page)

“
I was fine until el Mexico jumped in my car and scared me. Thought he was one of them, so I attacked.”

“Stupid bitch. Y
ou nearly scratched my eyes out,” Caesar says.

“
You would have deserved it, you heartless tool.”

“
Calm down,” I say. “You’re going to attract the dead.”

“I’m
tired of wasting all this time,” Caesar says, pulling his bag out of the car. He begins to walk away.

“
Where’s Jane,” I ask Jessica.

She starts to cry then catches herself.
“They got her back at the condos.” She puts her backpack on and takes a drink of water before we catch up to Caesar.

Deep down I
never truly allowed myself to believe she was dead. Picturing all those body parts in the elevator and thinking some of them were hers just made me feel sad and lonely. Now here she is and she seems like a girl who pursues what she wants and says what’s on her mind. I like that. Sorta like me in a sense. Sure wouldn’t mind knowing her if we survive this shit, especially if Kathy were to see us making out. Is that too much to ask?

Chapter 8

Day Z

The third night of the outbreak is fast approaching. We’ve just become a threesome that I would never want to see in a pornographic scenario (We’re really three and a half, but I’m not sick. Ella’s a baby! On another note, I do wonder if Ella is doomed to become a mental case when I get her to safety. Will she grow up killing guinea pigs and kitties for fun? Sure loves splattered zombie brains. You can’t just shoot heads off dolls. Or can you? Maybe she’ll become some kind of cool-chick mercenary at like twelve years of age. A real child warrior. All I know is, she better not become some foo-foo Disney princess after all this).

Here’s the bad news (in case you’re wondering): t
he zombie population is growing. They’re on every street corner now. This is worse than San Diego’s homeless problem. There was never this many mental cases on the street, although I’m pretty sure a couple of dudes we just killed are bums I gave a six pack of Coors to last weekend.

The good news
? We’re just outside the El Cortez. I’m hoping this is the end of this dumbass journey and I can finally get out of here with a lot of extra money in my pocket.

Named after some asshole Spanish conquistador who destroyed the Aztec empire,
the El Cortez is creepy-looking, Spanish-Colonial-Revival-style, fourteen-stories tall, and has a red-lit neon sign on top of its uppermost tier. It has two angular, inward-facing wings, a middle three-tier structure, a garden, and surrounding the property are burnt palm trees with crispy undead tied to them. One tree still burns like a huge candle.

“Well
, Caesar, we’re here,” I say.

Caesar’s eyes drift to the building,
then like something just spooked the fuck out of him, he takes off running, leaving Jessica, me and the baby across the street.

“What the fuck?” I say, running after him. “That dude owes me money.”

Jessica follows close behind.

We catch up to Caesar
, who is tugging on the large front door. It won’t budge. He backs away. “I have to get inside,” he says.

No shit? Somebody just got desperate.

Just above the door is a crest with some kind of hawk on it and the words: SEA BIENVENIDA.

I ask what it means.

“Be welcome,” he says.

Caesar
breaks a window to the right of the door and climbs in.

We follow.

The giant lobby is well lit because of all the windows and open space. But I’m not here for the art deco. I carefully watch for any other assholes who might be in the room.

Caesar pulls a paper from his pock
et, reads over it, then puts it back in his pants.

“Where we going?” I ask.

Jessica is even more confused.

I shrug at her.

Caesar walks over to the elevator. “Thank you, Mr. Seth for helping me get here. I’ll pay you on the fourteenth floor.” 

We all get in
and up we go. We steadily climb the first few floors. The elevator creaks.

“
Where we going? This hotel is creepy as hell,” Jessica says.

“
You’re telling me?” I say. “You’d think some people would be alive in here. I didn’t see anyone down in the lobby.”

“So we’re just going to the fourteenth?”

“You heard the man,” I say.

We get
past the tenth floor when the power kicks out. Everything goes black. Also smells like Ella just took a shit in her diaper.

“This is perfect,” I say.

Ella giggles and smacks me in the face trying to give me a high five.

“Speak for yourself,
cabron,” Caesar says. “We need to get out of here.”

“I don’t like elevators,” Jessica says.

Luckily we have flashlights. I flick one on.

Ella is still smacking me.
I guess she doesn’t like her shit either.

Caesar inspects the elevator for a way out.

Changing a crappy diaper in an enclosed space sucks, but I do it. Ella doesn’t mind. The smell, however, seeps into us, adding to the smoky, dead zombie odor we already reek.

“Shine some light over here,” Caesar says, handing Jessica his flashlight.

He pulls out his machete and jams it in the door, trying to pry the elevator open.

I wrap the
diaper in a baby onesie, hoping the smell gets trapped, then toss it to the corner.

T
urns out the elevator stopped between floors. We poke our heads out the door, shining our lights down the small portion we can see of the fourteenth floor. The hall appears to be clear. The thirteenth is not so friendly. Arms reach into the elevator, grabbing at our feet and ankles.

Jessica
screams, backing up against the wall of the elevator.

Caesar stomp
s at arms and hands like a madman, then chops off several limps with his machete. I try to keep my balance as infected blood spills all over the floor of the elevator.

“We need
to get out of here,” I say

Caesar nods, tossing
his bag to the upper floor. He crawls out after I give him a lift.

I
hand him Ella and the diaper bag.

“This is the last time I touch this child,” he says.

“Just help me up,” I say, scrambling out.

Jessica is pressed against the wall.

“Come on,” I say, turning to help. “We need to get out of here.”

“
What if the elevator moves? I’ll get cut in half.”

“
Those zombies will do more than cut you in half if they get in. Take my hand.”

Jessica
slowly reaches out. As she does I glance over to the baby. I’m caught off guard when I see a set of legs that aren’t Caesar’s.

“What the fuck?” I
say.

Grey
hands grab Ella’s carrier and lift it.

My heart jumps into my throat. “
Let her go, you undead fuck!” I try to get to the baby but Jessica won’t let go.

“Don’t drop me!” she screams.

“The baby!” I yell.

Blood splashes
on the zombie’s worn-out sneakers.

“You fucker,” I cry.

Jessica falls back, terrified, hitting her head against the back of the elevator.

“You’re the reason Ella’s
dead,” I scream at her.

She
curls into a ball and cries. “No.”

My mouth
can’t form words though I still want to scream. If this bitch wasn’t so scared, that corpse would be eating the barrel of my gun and not my Ella.

I slowly get up to face the zombie.

I raise the light as I hear the growl of the zombie and the thud of a body part hitting the floor. I expect to see a part of Ella’s little body. Instead the zombie’s head lies there staring at me as its body falls to the carpet.

“Come get your child
,” Caesar says, wiping the blade of his machete.

Ella
, next to the diaper bag, sees the zombie head and starts giggling.

I grab
Ella and give her a hug. “You stupid little shit,” I say. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Ella coos
and reaches toward the zombie head.

“You can’t have that,” I say.

Caesar helps Jessica out of the elevator.

“
I’m so happy she’s alive,” Jessica says. “If I hadn’t froze . . .”

             
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, still pissed off, but happy to have this little baby hanging from the front of me again.

Caesar
opens a glass door leading to the stairs as Jessica pulls diaper bag over her shoulder. We begin our hike upwards to the fourteenth floor, ascending staircase after staircase.

It scares
me to think how angry I just was. I wanted to shoot her. Seriously. Between the eyes. Is this what all this killing has done to me? Am I a loose cannon? A serial killer of the worst kind? I kill what’s already dead. Will I always be able to tell the difference between what’s alive or not? Will I just kill anyone in my way? And why did Caesar save Ella? The bastard hates kids. If that soldier was right, maybe Caesar hates all humanity. I guess he needs me a little while longer. Though I’m really getting tired of all his bullshit.

“This is
it,” Caesar says, pulling out a key and unlocking a door.

Our feet echo against the hard
wood. We’re in one of the penthouses. The windows reveal a breathtaking view of the city and bay.

Ella is asleep, so I lay her on a couch.

Caesar walks over to a table and picks up a letter. After reading it, he drops the letter back on the table and heads to a hallway. While he’s out of sight I look at the paper. I’m beginning to understand why he wanted to get here so badly.

Dad,

I won’t be here when you arrive. Marco and I
are evacuating before things get worse. I know you asked us to wait, but Marco thinks it’s best if we leave right away. I think he’s right. We’re still going to head for Bakersfield just as you planned. Will get there by car instead of flying. I love you. Hope you’re okay. Thank you for letting us know what was coming. The favor you asked of Marco is finished. He says it’s in the study. Wish I could say more, but he’s pulling me away as I write this. Take care. I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Hanna
.

“Seth,” Jessica says, looking out the window. “You have to see this.”

I walk over to the window and search northward.
Freeway lanes and city streets are filled with abandoned cars. Everything and everyone either is pale blue in the moonlight, or reflecting red-orange from fires everywhere.

Tens of thousands of
undead make their way north.

“Why the hell are they migrating?” I say.

Bullets with chasers tear through the night sky. Explosions rumble and flash. It’s obvious from here that a major war is going down. Humanity is fighting against a shadow of itself. If the common cold can bring us down, what can this kind of infection do? These people aren’t turning back. You can’t recover from this. So what happens if more cities get run over? What’s the tipping point?

“We’re stuck behind enemy lines,” I say. “No one can get through that.”

Caesar comes back into the living room. “I’ve witnessed some brutal battles in Mexico,” he says. “Nothing like this. In all of my days, I’ve never seen such a sight.”

“We’re lucky to have got
in here,” Jessica says.

“I hope
your daughter made it out okay,” I say to Caesar.

“
I’m sure she’s alright. They got out. I know they did.”

“Phones stopped working a long time ago,” Jessica says.

Caesar makes his way out of the room. “Sleep where you like,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

We find some candles to light and put them around the room.

“That’s better,” Jessica says. “A little light makes me less terrified. Is he going to pay you soon?”

“I don’t care about the money,” I say. “
Not after seeing that horde on the freeway. I just want to get out of here alive.” I feel for the com, reassuring myself that it’s still in my pocket.

“We still would have to find a way out of this b
uilding, let alone a way past the freeway. There has to be thousands of them. We need a boat.”

I start rummaging
through shelves.

“What are you looking for?” Jessica asks.

“A drink.”

I find a good deal of
tequila and vodka. The fridge has fruit juice. It’s not super cold, but isn’t hot. Once the drinks are mixed I walk them over to Jessica.

S
he sits by the window. The scented candle in the middle of the table smells like cinnamon and strawberries.

“How are you holding up?”
I ask, trying to sound like I care.

“
I hope you’ve forgiven me for not being brave at the elevator.”

I tell her I do, which of course
is only true because Ella is alive. We both take a drink, which is followed by a silent awkwardness. Moments like this remind me of running into people I know at the store. The first time you see each other there’s all the uncomfortable small talk. The second time you’re forced to have a conversation followed by a lame joke: ‘Oh, look we both need milk. That’s funny.’ It’s not.

After we
finish our drinks, we move from the table to the couch and I rub her shoulders. In a bizarre way, the explosions and gunfire outside is more reassuring than touching her. Just the thought that there are people still fighting and surviving makes me feel like we have a chance.