LZR-1143: Redemption (20 page)

I stared at the map, seeing the thin green line running up the interstates, through the heart of the city, and into the northern suburbs, where the university was located.

“Obviously, it’s not only exposed, but we know for a fact that once you get into the city, it’s bumper to bumper with abandoned cars. That’s a minefield for shamblers and no way you could get through with a vehicle. It’s also incredibly exposed.”

“Route two is a little better. We have you on foot through the downtown area. Gives you some cover from the buildings and the debris, and gives you options in the buildings to find hard cover. However, you’re still exposed.”

“Route three involves a chopper drop somewhere in this area,” he circled an area of the city near the waterfront, “And you moving away from the LZ on foot, fast. Those things will cluster up on the noise fast, so you’re going to have to move quick.”

He looked up at us and smiled wryly. “It’s going to be your choice, so think it over. You leave tonight.”

I nodded once and looked at Kate. Her eyes were focused, and even Ky was staring at the paper earnestly.

Something occurred to me and I looked up at Finnigan.

“What about personnel? We have a friend from D.C. that’s on the train that we’d like to have with us. He’s Special Forces, and nice to have around.”

“Of course. Totally your discretion. Quite frankly, you people have done more to keep your asses out of the fire than anyone I know, so you’ll have the final say in your team. I do have one suggestion, though.”

“I’m all ears, Colonel.”

“We have a man on staff who’s been helping us out with supply runs and covert ops for medicine and ammo and the sort. He’s a little bit of a weird bird, but he knows the city inside and out. He used to run one of those city tours from the back of a bus, and before that he was a cab driver. He knows the nooks and crannies of this city like a lover’s body.”

“Sounds good, what’s the drawback?”

Finnigan smiled and stood up.

“He’s just a little… eccentric. But I think you’ll like him.”

THIRTY

“Artan!”

We stood at the edge of the motor pool tent, staring at the enormous troop transport that was currently lacking a massive wheel. Two small legs stuck out from under the chassis and I heard a man grunt.

“Artan, come out for a minute. Those folks we discussed are here.”

“Oh,” said the voice. “No shit?” His accent was sharp and lilted, clearly eastern European in origin. ‘Shit’ became ‘sheet,’ with a twist of attitude.

He rolled out from under the truck, his tight gray tee shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tucked into tightly belted camouflage pants. A cigarette dangled from his lip, and a pistol hung almost negligently in an old leather holster from his right side.

“You are the people.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His dark, heavily lidded eyes moved from me to Kate, then to Ky, and finally to Romeo. “And dog.”

Romeo wagged once.

He sniffed loudly.

“They’re the ones we told you about. They’ll need a guide.”

He waved his hand in front of his face and grimaced.

“Yah, I know. Everyone needs guide. I’m guide, they need me. I go to city. Zombies try at eat to me. I come back to my place. Is like tail fairy.” He said sarcastically.

Tail fairy? That would be a popular fantasy creature. I supposed he meant fairy tale. He continued, making a bizarre face at Romeo as the dog unabashedly sniffed his shoe.

“Go to America, Artan, my family say. So good the opportunities. So much the jobs. Great job for Artan,” he was still staring at my covered face. He leaned forward, head tilting slightly as if trying to see through my glasses.

“You are person, yah?”

“Yah… I mean, yes. I’m a person. I have to stay covered in the light, so does she. It’s a byproduct of the vaccine.”

He looked dubiously at the cloudy and gray Seattle sky, squinting at the overcast afternoon.

“This? For you this is bad?” He guffawed, taking a drag of his cigarette and throwing the butt to the ground. He exhaled into the air. “You should be living here. No sun in Seattle. Only darkness.”

“They’re leaving tonight. They need a guide. You up for it?” Finnigan’s voice was slightly challenging. “Or you need to stay in the compound? Safer here.”

Artan turned, his chest rising slightly.

“You think Artan is scared? I save your men so many time. They know nothing of this city. I know how to go. And I will go with them to make voyage. Then, we will come back to here. Easy like cake.” He spat on the ground once and held out his hand.

“We go tomorrow. I see you at gate.”

I shook the hand and he turned away, sliding back under the transport.

“So, he’s your best guide, huh?” said Kate dubiously, watching him scream at a stubborn bolt before tearing it from the truck.

“He’s not lying,” said the colonel, walking us back to the residential tents. “First time we used him, he brought seven of my men back from where they were trapped in a grocery store. They can’t even describe how they got back. He’s like a bloodhound.”

“What’s that accent? Russian?”

“No, he’s from the Balkans. Albania, I think. Hard to tell. He won’t talk about it.” Finnigan laughed again. “I don’t think he’s in the States legally, though. That might be it. But as long as we pay him his fee, he’s always up for work.”

“What’s his fee?” I asked, curious.

Finnigan chuckled as we walked through the mud.

“Sardines. A whole damn case. He loves the nasty little buggers.”

We arrived at the tent and the colonel extended his hand gravely.

“Listen, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but… with this many shamblers coming into town, you’re on a clock. We can try to evac you by chopper, if you can get to a safe place, but if the shit is really hitting the fan, we might be hard pressed. Getting you to the lab and getting the lab to work is our top priority. If you can’t make it in, or it’s gone… Just know that your work is done when you deliver your blood to the doctor. We will try our best to get you back, but in all likelihood, we are going to be up to our asses in the undead, here. You need to plan for that.”

I respected him for telling me what we had long expected.

Our mission was to provide blood samples and guinea pigs to Doctor Kopland, whose job it was to synthesize a vaccine that didn’t make people into nocturnal berserkers. Once he had our blood, we weren’t necessary any more. We were just numbers on a roster of living in a world of the dead.

“I appreciate the heads up, colonel. We understand. But you’re not going to be rid of us that easy. We’re going to need a favor from you when we get back here. We’ll be back, I guarantee it.”

He simply nodded his head once, serious.

“I don’t doubt it. Good luck, tonight. Garcia is getting you resupplied as we speak, and you’ve got some rack space inside. Muster time at the front gate is twenty-one hundred, so you’ve got about ten hours for sleep. I’d make use of it. It’s going to be a long night.”

We were put up for the day in a temporary quarters tent, and four cots were lined up simply along the walls. Rhodes wasn’t back from the train yet, but I imagined he was doing his best to help them with the offloading.

Ky flopped on a cot immediately, whipping out her video game and patting the bed, where Romeo jumped up quickly and passed out.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the map. I knew very little about the city, other than the recognizable landmarks and the tourist attractions. Kate sat down next to me and stared at the paper as well.

We talked in hushed tones, waiting for Ky’s breathing to slow. When she finally nodded off, Kate took the small device from her hand and pulled a blanket over her. Romeo looked up once, then closed his big brown eyes in thanks as she draped the thick wool over both sleeping bodies.

For the next hour, we hammered out a plan, using oil pencils to mark out a new plan over the lines of the old one. Kate left briefly to talk to Finnigan about arrangements, and I stared at the roads, trying to memorize as much as I could. I knew that Artan would be responsible for getting us through the city, but we had to be in charge of our route.

We knew these things. We knew what we could do. And we knew how much it meant to get this done.

Kate returned, and we spoke of the final plan, and of the drawbacks. We repeated the codes to the doors that we had memorized, in case we actually made it to the lab.

We talked of memories, and of cities that were alive. Of coffee shops and bars and birthday parties. We remembered how it was to be among the living, in a world that was not among the dead. Eventually, our memories were played out and our bodies surrendered.

I laid down, listening to Kate’s breathing slow amidst the noise of the camp outside. The clang of metal and the angry voices. The laughter of children among the low speech of worried adults. The smell of cooking, and the smoke of fires.

The sounds and smells of humanity.

The sounds and smells of the people we were trying so desperately to save.

I thought I heard my own breathing slow before I drifted away on the air of exhaustion.

She looked different, in death. More calm. More at peace with herself. Nothing to prove. Nothing to worry about.

Maria’s face was kind as she bent over my cot, and the smell of wildflowers, reminiscent of her favorite perfume, permeated the tent. Somehow, mine was the only cot in the tent, and bright sunlight streamed into the small space. I wasn’t afraid. It didn’t burn, and my eyes were wide, taking it all in.

“You’ve done well,” she said, sitting down slowly to rest next to me.

I sat up, alert. I felt wonderful. Rested, and complete. As if the months of running and fighting and worrying—of death after death—had taken no toll.

“I’ve done what needed doing,” I said softly. My hand drifted up unconsciously to her face, wanting to touch it. A face I knew—and still loved—so well.

“You’ve done almost everything,” she said. “I’m so sorry this has fallen to you. I tried to protect you. I tried to do what was right. This is my fault.”

“No,” I almost yelled. The injustice of that thought was heavy on my mind. “This was someone else’s doing. This was someone else’s horror.”

“We were never meant to do these things. This thing—this plague—it is something we never understood. It is something we played with, like fire, without knowing its true elemental state. Without understanding how it worked. It is of this earth and not of this earth, somehow at the same time.” Her soft voice never faltered, but her eyes grew sad.

“You must be careful,” she said. “And you must know that there is no plan for this plague. There is no precedence. There is only… how you adapt. We played with things we had no knowledge of. We dabbled in horror and pain. And now, we may be seeing our own end…or our own evolution…mirrored in front of us.”

“No, there is an end. It is inside us. So close. We can make a difference.”

She rose slowly, her hair brushed by an invisible breeze that only she felt.

“This is not certain. But it is certain that you can try. Certain changes could be immutable. We could have brought humanity to its end. You will try to do what you can. What you must. But know that in the end, you may not be able to control the fate of mankind. You are a good man, Mike. I’m sorry.”

“No,” I said, my voice catching. “There is a way. We can find salvation. There is a redemption for what you… for what has happened.”

“Redemption,” she whispered, looking up. “It is a nice thought.”

Then she smiled.

I blinked back the tears as she backed away. And in the smallest blink of an eye, she was gone, and the light faded away.

“I wish you luck.”

I let the tears come, and I awoke in the darkness, alone with my memories.

THIRTY-ONE

We gathered at the front gate to meet Artan before redirecting to the tarmac, where a Blackhawk helicopter awaited, rotors spinning slowly. Outside the gates, sporadic flamethrower and machine gun activity from the walls was loud, as soldiers yelled to one another. A large cargo plane thundered into the night air, lights flashing and fading into the dark. The pilots of the helicopter talked to one another as we approached, and a small tug in my gut reminded me that I wasn’t a fan of flying anymore, especially after our incident in Idaho. But our plan required it.

Rhodes was strapped in already, his carbine next to him, and some extra gear strapped to his tactical vest. A large pack sat on the floor next to him, and he nodded as we entered.

“You get any sleep last night?” I asked, pulling Ky into the cabin after me.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he said, looking out the window.

“Actually, I think that’s the problem,” I muttered to myself, as the door shut.

Ky’s presence was a point of contention, but one that had no good solution. Either we left her in the camp, where millions of zombies were converging in a matter of hours, or we brought her out into the city. One way, she was unhappy and not with us. The other way, she stayed happy, and we at least got to protect her. It wasn’t easy, but we decided to bring her along. Especially considering she had mastered the art of escape.

Of course, Romeo was pleased to be along as well.

Artan was seated across from Kate, and was simply staring at a map, shaking his head.

He looked up, having already tried to make this same point on the way to the chopper.

“Why not we get out closer to school, yes? It is better. This is stupidness.”

I shook my head again, jabbing a finger at the map.

“This is the only way we hide the helicopter. If it drops into here,” I pointed on the map, “it can pop back out a minute later, and they can keep following the noise. That way, we don’t have to worry about fighting through a small herd on our way from the LZ. Trust me.”

I said this with a confidence that I couldn’t quite muster after developing the plan in under an hour. He shook his head.

“You know, this place… it was many people there,” he said, folding the map and putting it into a cargo pocket in his dark vest. A hood hung from under the vest, and I smiled at the black Seahawks logo that peaked out from behind the thick Kevlar and nylon vest.

“I know, but Finnigan says that camp was destroyed. They’re all part of a herd somewhere now, right?” Kate’s voice was loud over the sound of the accelerating rotors.

He shrugged as the chopper lurched into the air slowly, turning in a sickening spin toward the city as it reached nearly five hundred feet. Over the comms equipment, the pilots exchanged comments on altitude and speed.

“Is maybe. I not know where are. I know where were. And this is where were.”

His voice was doubtful, but I just took a deep breath.

We were right.

I was sure of it.

Mostly sure.

Probably.

The moonlight and several small clouds outlined the dark shadows of the skyscrapers of downtown as we tilted forward and moved away from the camp. Below, spotlights flooded the perimeter of the massive camp with light, and thousands of creatures clustered around the metal walls slammed their hands against the barrier repeatedly, while the small forms of guards along the wall ignored them. Towers rose at intervals, and the long line of planes and helicopters and other vehicles extended into the darkness. No power was wasted on spotlights inside the fortress, as fires lit the various portions of the encampment.

The long, winding form of the train was still visible on the back end of the camp, and I remembered Rhodes’ explanation of the problems they had encountered after offloading the personnel and equipment. The explosion had damaged the coupling that they needed to attach the engine to the front of the train. They were working on repairing it, but there were too many zombies near the backstop, so had to clear them repeatedly. They were seeing heavier numbers near the train than normal, so the repairs were lagging.

Luckily, I hadn’t been right about the creatures overwhelming the fence line.

Yet.

We gusted forward, and the lightless city waited for us. I could make out the details of the sad, deserted buildings below. Before the apocalypse, the area around SeaTac had been a fairly odd mixture of middle class neighborhoods, hotels, and industrial areas. Now, it all looked the same. Fires still burned at random locations, the products of gas lines left unattended and the mindless progress of the walking dead and the oblivious march of time.

I spotted more than one deer again, and I marveled at the speed with which nature attempted to regain the footholds she had lost to humanity so many years ago. I had no doubt that many cities across the country would fall victim to the same fate very soon. Vast swaths of concrete and metal were due to decay and fall to the progress of vines and dirt and water and wind. We were at the beginning of the end for many of our modern wonders, these constructions of steel and stone. I just hoped that we weren’t at the end of the end—the very last stop.

The flight was not long, and it seemed that as soon as we reached a cruising altitude, we were dropping again, flying low and fast over a large concrete wasteland, cars packed into the massive space like sardines. The still forms of carcasses, spread along the ground like so much refuse, were shadows under many of the cars. Campers and trailers were there too, evidence of the attempts at flight that many had made, and been denied

This place had been a refuge for some. A collection point, a gathering spot, a way station for the forcefully displaced. The thin fence around the parking lot had done nothing, and it lay trampled in the ground, never having been intended to stop more than the casual criminal. Ticket booths dotted the landscape, and the large doors were flung open, I noticed as we topped the high walls, and dropped immediately over the stands.

No tents here, no constructions. Only the remnants of makeshift helipads and overturned tables and torn banners. Strips of cloth and pieces of paper whipped up in the rotor wash speckled the air as we dropped quickly. The skids hit the soft grass, and the doors flew open.

“Good luck,” was the only admonishment from the flight deck as we poured out onto the thick grass, packs and weapons in hand. We ducked, sprinting outside of the rotor’s circumference before the engines spooled up and the large machine was airborne again. It didn’t turn. It simply rose up out of the large field and into the sky, continuing on as if it had never stopped, flying low and slow toward the city and away from us.

I looked down, bemused.

I had always wanted to stand on the fifty yard line of a professional football stadium.

The Seattle stadium would do nicely.

The goalposts still stood, and I watched as bats flooded out from under the eaves above the seats, disturbed by the helicopter’s passage. I looked around quickly, scanning for any movement, while Romeo darted away. He had taken to running away quickly, somehow instinctively knowing when to alert us to the presence of any of the creatures—shamblers, as Finnigan had called them. I liked the term. No implication of purpose or origin, only of a mindless, pointless action.

Ky was bending down over the faint chalk outline of the field, and picked up something that resembled a shoe.

“Do you think this is one of the football players’ shoes?” she asked, and I was reminded that she lacked the night vision we had grown used to.

“No, honey, I don’t.” Kate grabbed the shoe and tossed it away.

Ky hadn’t seen the remnants of the foot still inside.

The field was a charnel house. Blood and bodies were everywhere, and the stiff breeze that carried in the chilly morning air subdued the smell of rot. A loose piece on the dome above rattled as the chopper went past, and I gestured forward, following Artan.

“You know how to get us out of here?” I asked, even though we had discussed this before we left.

“Yes, yes. I been here one time. There is large door for tractor. We go there. This way.” He motioned toward the end zone on the far end of the field on our right, and we sped up.

Rhodes had acquired the same night vision goggles that Artan was wearing. Slick units that didn’t protrude too heavily from the face, and were lighter weight. Ky wasn’t lucky enough to have the benefit of such technology, but she was virtually glued to Kate’s side, so I didn’t worry much. Kate had actually suggested a makeshift tether, but I had pointed out the problems with the system.

Rhodes was behind Artan, his carbine half raised, body alert. He only limped slightly, but his experience and quiet efficiency was more than a trade off for the slight lack of mobility. If the shit really hit the fan, I could carry him. He was too tough to leave behind.

A nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me of how he froze in the mall in Boise, but I quashed it, remembering the times he had come through. Everyone was entitled to a freak out in this new world.

Every damn one of us.

The wind brushed more debris through the thousands of seats, and an eerie rush of noise accompanied the gust. The air moving through so many empty seats, angling down into the stadium, then up and out again. Such a normal sound, imposed on such an otherworldly circumstances.

I gingerly picked my way over the remnants of what appeared to be a severed arm, the white of bone stark against the long grass of the unkempt stadium turf. A football was close to the arm, and I tried to push the image out of my head of people playing catch right before the slaughter.

I had asked Finnigan about the breach at the stadium, and it was apparently a sore subject. There was a foul up in communications between SeaTac and the stadium—the only other secure stronghold in the city. There was a breach, and the air support didn’t arrive fast enough. The fence outside had never been thought secure, but they hadn’t faced a herd. They had always been able to clear the fence line with fire or force. Not this time, apparently.

The herd arrived at sunrise, pushing against the back ranks of those that were already present, roaming the fence line and pushing the defenses. The civilians were sleepy and unaware, and the soldiers called for backup. The request didn’t make it in fast enough, the command tent at the field was out of service, or the power was down, or one of a variety of possibilities—Finnigan didn’t know what. By the time the soldiers inside knew of the arrival of the herd outside, it was too late. The fence had toppled, and the civvies were running inside for dear life, stymieing the attempt of the soldiers to join the fight. Too much chaos and confusion. The numbers were too many, the defenders too few.

No one was left to close the doors when the chaos had ended.

As we walked forward, the turf changed to springy rubber flooring, and I looked up to the slogans written above the large exit, watching as one of the banners wilted in the breeze, then slapped against the wall again with a loud popping sound.

Ahead, Artan’s hand rose, fist clenched in the now familiar signal to stop advancing. Kate pushed Ky down, and all of our weapons came up. Even Romeo stopped moving, simply standing next to Ky.

The parking lot outside was as much of a disaster as the field.

But it wasn’t as empty.

On the far side of the lot, a long, expensive-looking RV smoldered, a thin wisp of gray smoke almost blending with the mist of the cool night—most likely the victim of an errant gas tank or a shambling creature. The lot was packed with cars and trucks, doors open and bodies hanging everywhere—most in extreme states of decomposition and consumption. A SWAT team vehicle was overturned near the main entrance, the fence smashed to the ground in front of it, the evidence of a firefight apparent in the concrete and vehicles nearby.

Near the SWAT van, a cluster of nearly two hundred creatures was passing slowly on the main street, moving past the shattered entrance to the park, slowly making their way south. Likely toward the fort, somehow knowing they would find more of their kind there—that they would find help or comfort or whatever it was that they found in their numbers.

Low-lying industrial and commercial buildings lined the street on the far side, along with several small restaurants, a liquor store, and a large building that had the markings of an apparel company on the side—probably a factory.

Artan looked back at us. Our pathway was along that street. It ran north along the waterfront for nearly two miles before intersecting with a cross street in the downtown area that would take us north and east.

Artan walked back, Rhodes keeping an eye on the herd.

“We no go on the road,” he rasped, barely audible. “We take some side road, through some places I know about. We go that way,” he motioned back toward the stadium.

I looked behind us. No movement yet, and I was almost tempted to believe it was empty.

Almost.

“Okay, it’s your call,” I said. “We can’t go through that many.”

“Yes, my phone call,” he said, motioning for the rest to turn around.

“Your… That’s not the…” Kate frowned and motioned to me to shut up.

Someone needed to tell this kooky immigrant how to speak.

Later.

We flowed back into the field, and Artan immediately banked to the left, softly opening one of the small gates between the field and the stands and beginning to mount the steps to the next level.

“Does he know where he’s going?” asked Ky, voice slightly concerned. Romeo ranged ahead, tail up, eyes alert. “‘Cause sometimes, I don’t understand what he says.”

I grunted once, tilting my head briefly to the side and back again.

“Yeah, kid. You’re not the only one. But he’s the last cab driver left in the city, so if he doesn’t know where we’re going, we’re out of luck.”

Artan was already veering right, Rhodes following closely behind along the railed walkway that ringed the first level of the stadium. Smaller doorways into the stadium were set at intervals along the walkway, and more steps led up into the thousands of bleachers every twenty feet.