Rocky Mountain Die (12 page)

“Stop moving,” Stitcher guy says. “I’m Joe. The guy behind me is Trent. The other one is Mickey.”

“Hey,” Mickey and Trent say.

“Luke,” the short-haired Scar Boy says.

“Bo,” the dreadlocked Scar Boy says.

“Seriously?” I laugh.

“Leave it,” Bo says.

“Leave it, Jace,” Stella says. “Can’t really talk, can you, Long Pork?”

“That brings up something I have to ask,” Amy says. “Who is the woman? The fighter?”

“Elsbeth,” Stella says. “We adopted her.”

“Adopted her? I thought she said she was going to eat your husband?” Amy says.

“Yeah, we adopted her after that,” I say. “Seemed like the sensible thing. We specialize in reforming cannibals. It’s our thing.”

“We don’t,” Amy says. “We put them down fast and leave their bodies for the dead to eat.”

“Head shots, I hope,” I say.

“Why? You think they deserve mercy like that?” Amy sneers. “Because they don’t.”

“I’m sensing a sore spot has been uncovered,” I say. “Ow!”

“You move when you talk,” Joe says. “And when you move, I slip. Stop talking, stop moving, be still and be quiet.”

“Good luck with that,” Stella says.

“What is Elsbeth’s story?” Amy asks. “What agency was she with? NSA? Homeland? CIA?”

“CIA?” I laugh. “Ow!”

“Shut. Up,” Joe says as he pulls a suture tight.

“No, she wasn’t CIA,” Stella says, grinning. “She was, well
,
i
s
, something else. She and her sisters.”

“Whoa! Sisters?” Luke asks. “There’s more of her?”

“Where?” Bo asks, looking around like they are going to jump out at him at any second. “Are they in Denver?”

“We don’t know exactly where they are,” Stella says. “But my guess is they are close.”

“This day is just getting weirder and weirder,” Luke says.

“Done,” Joe says and steps back from me.

Amy is about to ask me something, but a succession of loud gunshots fills the air and we all look at the children’s hospital. Stella wheels me over to the railing so I have a better view. Not that what I see is all that great.

People are streaming up onto the roof. They are a few blocks away, so I can’t tell who is who, but I know body language. Most of the survivors, the ones that have been along for the ride, not actively fighting the good fight against the Zs, cram themselves up against the edge of the roof, putting as much distance between themselves and the roof access as possible.

“Not looking good,” Amy says.

“Lourdes’s people can hold off the Zs,” Stella says. I can tell she is scanning the roof, hoping to catch sight of our daughter. “They’ll be fine.”

I do a quick head count and I’m not as convinced as she sounds. There are a lot less people than there should be. The gunfire gets louder and I see some of the private contractors backing out of the roof access doors, firing fast and continuously at a stream of Zs that comes at them. People are screaming and I get a sinking feeling in my gut.

A couple of the survivors turn and look over the edge of the roof. They start shouting and pointing. Most of the others turn and look also then begin to back away from the edge of the roof.

“Oh, shit,” Stella says as she looks at me.

“No way,” I say. “A building? Book shelves and broken escalators are one thing, but a fucking building?”

“What the holy hell?” Bo asks as he jumps over the railing and off the helipad. He lands easily on the level below. Kid has some moves. Good to know. He gets to the edge of our roof and gasps. “Holy shit! You got to see this?”

“Roll me down there,” I say and Stella doesn’t even hesitate.

We all make our way off the helipad and down to the main roof. As we get closer to the edge, I can see what everyone is freaking out about.

Shit. Zs. Trying to climb the side of the children’s hospital. They aren’t doing so well, but damn if they aren’t giving it their all. The sides of the building have a lot of glass and not many hand holds, so the Zs keep falling off, sliding down the side into heaps at the bottom.

Heaps at the bottom.

Heaps that are growing as more and more Zs climb up over each other.

“How long have they been acting this way?” I ask Amy.

She shakes her head and answers, “I haven’t seen them climb before.”

“But you’ve noticed them getting faster, right?” I ask. “Like the ones on the roof that were after us when you picked us up.”

“Yeah, they’ve been getting faster,” Luke says.

“A lot faster,” Bo adds. “Especially when it’s clear out.”

Everyone turns and looks at him.

“What?” he asks. “You all haven’t seen that? Sun comes out and some of the dead just start boogying.”

“He’s not lying,” Luke says, backing up his twin. “Clouds move in and they slow down. Slow down at night, too.”

“Unless they’re hunting when they move,” Bo says. “We watched a pack rip through a herd of deer about a quarter mile outside the fence.”

“Fence?” I ask. “What fence?”

Amy glares at them. Which isn’t hard for her to do since she has resting glare face.

“Hey, I’m sort of an expert on fences,” I say. “Just curious what kind you have. Up at the Stronghold. Because that’s where you’re from, right? The Stronghold?”

Amy doesn’t say a thing.

“Listen, Amy, right?” I say.

She nods.

“Listen, we’re heading to the Stronghold. We came all the way from Asheville, North Carolina because we were told that the Stronghold was one of the last safe places. You can be straight with us or be secretive. Doesn’t matter. Eventually, we’ll end up at the same place.”

“How do you know about the Stronghold?” Amy asks.

“Word travels fast in the apocalypse,” I say. “And a little psycho birdy told us. It’s been confirmed by a few sources.” I swallow hard. “One of those sources is heading this way too. Which means it’s kind of confession time.”

“Confession time?” Amy asks, looking me square in the face. “What confession?”

“You ever heard of the Consortium?” I say. The look on her face tells me she has. “Yeah. They may be on our tails. They may also be bringing about a thousand armed men and women.”

“Shit,” Joe says. “A thousand? Armed?”

“There might be a couple tanks too,” I say. “That’s possible.”

Everyone looks to Amy. Her jaw is set so tight I swear I can hear her teeth being crushed together, like a time lapse of a mountain range eroding.

“You brought that to us?” she asks finally.

“We didn’t want to,” Stella says, “but they set off a dirty bomb in Asheville and we had nowhere to go. Knoxville wasn’t an option. St. Louis is gone. Kansas City is worse.”

“Smith was right,” Joe says. “He said it was obliterated.”

“Looks like an empty mud puddle,” I say. “But with more scorch marks.”

“Mud puddles have scorch marks?” Mickey asks. He speaks!

“I say things to say things,” I reply. “Get used to it.”

“Jesus,” Amy sighs. “You brought the Consortium to us.”

“They were coming eventually,” Joe says. “We knew that. They sent those men last year to warn us.”

“Hey, don’t despair,” I smile. “We have an ace in the hole.”

“Really? What could you possibly have that is going to defend us against tanks and a thousand armed men and women?” Amy snaps.

There’s a loud shriek. A war cry, if you will. Damn, that woman has timing.

I point over at the children’s hospital. “We have her. Elsbeth. You wanted to know who she is, well get ready to shit yourself.” I give her my best smirk. “Elsbeth is Camille Thornberg’s daughter.”

Amy nearly jumps out of her skin. Then she lunges at me and grabs me by the neck. Stella is on her in a second, but Amy elbows her back. Mickey and Trent hold my wife back as Amy leans in close to my face.

“You brought one of those things here? You brought goddamn tanks and one of those things to us?” Amy shouts. “You fucking people! You stupid fucking people! You’ve killed us all!”

Joe gets between us and manages to pry Amy’s hands away from my throat before she can choke me out.

“Chill,” he says. “That crazy woman is fond of this guy. You kill him and she’ll come after us. Do we want that?”

“The sisters,” Amy says. “Where are they? How many of them are there? Is Kramer with them?”

“What?” I gasp. I am more than surprised by that last question. “How the hell do you know about Kramer?”

“Do you think the places that have survived have done so by accident?” Amy laughs. “Do you think this is all random luck? God, how the fuck did you live this long?”

“Amy,” Luke says. “Come here.”

“Not now, Luke,” Amy snaps.

“No, really,” Bo says.
“
Reall
y
.”

Amy backs away from me then steps next to the twins and looks down over the railing.

“Son of a bitch,” she sighs.

A few things click into place and I don’t have to even look to know what’s happening.

“How smooth are the columns on the first three floors?” I ask.

Amy looks back at me. “Not smooth enough.”

There’s a loud banging noise coming from the roof access doors. Our roof access doors.

Son of a bitch is fucking right.

Chapter Five

Paying attention to what’s happening on the children’s hospital roof is no longer a priority because the party has moved to our roof.

Yay…

I look around at our new friends and decide now is a good time to take stock in the firepower we have available.

Bo and Luke each hold an AR-15, flashlights attached under the barrel, with some nice scopes on top. Really nice scopes. I’ve learned a little about firearms and their accessories over the years, especially after hanging with Special Forces operators and Lourdes’s private military contractors.

I glance around and see that Joe, Mickey, and Trent are similarly outfitted. I also notice that I’m not looking at AR-15s, but M-16s. The difference? The former is for civilian use, the latter is military. These guys hit a military supply depot or something. Makes sense if they are refueling their chopper at Buckley Air Force Base. Does the Air Force keep M-16s around? I don’t know.

Amy’s rifle is an M4 carbine. Collapsible stock. Under the barrel grenade launcher. Another really nice scope. She has the grip wrapped in sticky tape and I can tell she uses a suppressor on the barrel when she needs. The tell-tale scuff marks of screwing it on and off are pretty obvious.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Amy says, catching me studying her weapon.

The banging against the roof access doors gets louder and louder as more Zs start cramming against it. I assume they are Zs. I mean, I can’t see them, but who else would be fighting to get at us up here? Jehovah’s Witnesses? Probably not.

Bo and Luke glance at Amy and she gives them a slight nod. They both frown and then sling their rifles. Moving to the edge of the roof, they start hurrying along the perimeter, scanning the scene below.

“West side,” Bo says.

“Why?” Luke asks.

“Break in the dead right there,” Bo says. “We draw them right then sprint left, cut through that hole then book ass.”

“Booking ass is always part of the plan, bro,” Luke replies.

“Don’t push it,” Amy says. “You get to the first pyre and light it up.”

“Bright day,” Joe says, glancing up at the sky. “If Crumb ain’t looking this way then he could totally miss it. But others may see it and realize things are bad. They’ll take advantage.”

“They always do,” Amy says. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. With how thick the dead are getting, the others will have to make a decision soon. Join up or die down here.”

“Others?” Stella asks. “Are there people still living down here in Denver?”

“Quite a few,” Amy says. “We tried getting everyone together at one point, but some personalities don’t take to being behind fences.”

“You should get an HOA,” I smirk. “They take care of the riff raff right quick.”

“Not helping,” Stella says.

The metal doors begin to warp and groan.

“We should get back up on the helipad,” Joe says. “Bottleneck them on the ramp.”

Stella turns my wheelchair around and we move as fast as possible to get up the ramp and centered on the helipad. I glance around and notice all the support struts holding the helipad together. Support struts that will make great handholds. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

“Hey, guys,” I start to say, but I’m quickly interrupted by the roof access doors being ripped off their hinges and dozens of Zs streaming out onto the roof.

They whip about, looking like a bunch of rabid terriers hunting for their missing squeaker toys. Then they spot the toys. We are the toys.

A quick undead head count tells me we are up against at least forty of the bastards. It doesn’t take them long to hit the ramp and get wedged between the railings. It also doesn’t take long for the ones jammed at the back to get bored and start looking for new ways to get up at us.

“Go!” Amy yells back at Bo and Luke.

The twins nod and are lost from sight as they climb over the edge of the roof. I get a little queasy just thinking of them climbing down the side of the hospital. Fuck that.

Joe, Mickey, and Trent fall to a knee and aim at the Zs. They each take slow, deliberate shots, not wasting ammunition or time. Each squeeze of the trigger is a headshot, but each squeeze of the trigger happens a lot slower than I’d like. These guys know how to shoot, but they aren’t like Lourdes’s people or like John, Reaper, or Stuart. They are civilians that have gotten good with guns, that’s all.

Not that I can talk much shit. I’m as civilian as they get. Hell, I was better with a spiked baseball bat than I was with a pistol or rifle. At least I was before I lost my arm. Man, I could totally go for some new prosthetic attachments for Stumpageddon. Sucks they got lost along our travels.

The ramp is quickly clogged with dead Zs. But that just gives the ones behind something to crawl over. It almost becomes easier for them. A couple get to the top of the Z pile and actually leap at us, but Amy takes them down fast. She doesn’t have anywhere near the pauses the others have between shots. I’m guessing she has training that the others don’t. Makes sense the way she was talking earlier.

She knows something. She probably knows more than something.

“On our right!” Amy shouts and pivots to blast the heads off three Zs climbing up the helipad’s support struts. She ends them before they can get up over the railing, but they are quickly being replaced by new ones. “Joe!”

“I see them!” Joe shouts.

He gives up on the careful head shots and flicks his M-16 to full auto, spraying the Zs as they scramble up onto the helipad, cutting them off at the legs, turning them into the not so walking dead.

But there are still too many.

Mickey and Trent start scooting back as the Zs coming up the ramp make some serious progress. They’re dropping them, but the Z horde is just too big and they can’t drop them fast enough. I look past the up close and personal danger and see more Zs coming out of the roof access doors.

“We’re going to be trapped in a couple minutes!” Joe yells.

“We were already trapped!” Amy yells back. “So shut up and fire!”

Joe shakes his head, but doesn’t stop pulling the trigger except to eject a spent magazine and slap in a fresh one. He pulls back the slide and puts his rifle back to his shoulder. Then hesitates as two Z heads evaporate in front of him. He jerks back and looks over his shoulder.

“We have a shooter!” Joe yells. “Someone get eyes on him!”

Another three Z heads turn to mist and I realize that Stella and I are the eyes that Joe needs since everyone else is busy shooting Zs and keeping us from getting eaten.

“It had to come from that way!” I shout at Stella, pointing at a far off construction crane that sits idle amongst a never-completed building about four blocks away. “Only place that has the height!”

“Hold on!” Stella says and leaves me to stare at the far-off crane. She comes back with one of the guys’ packs and rummages through it. “Got it!”

She pulls out a pair of binoculars and puts them to her eyes. I’d ask for a look too, but considering my less than stellar mental capacity, I’d probably just see flying unicorns and space pandas.

Space pandas are a thing, so fuck off.

“I see someone up there,” Stella says. “Big rifle.”

“From that distance? It’d have to be,” I reply.

There are shouts behind us and I try to look back, but my head and shoulder protests instantly and I have to close my eyes tight to keep from screaming and passing out. It feels like my world is made of Jell-O. I take a few deep breaths and things begin to stabilize, but I have a serious feeling that they will never get back to normal.

“Another shooter!” Joe shouts as Stella wheels me around. “Back that way!”

Z heads are popping like balloons at a rigged carnie game. Joe, Amy, and the others slow their firing down, conserving ammo as our mystery helpers drop Z after Z. Half the horde is headless in a matter of seconds. Then the shooting stops and the Zs surge.

“Must be reloading,” I say then we hear shouts from the children’s hospital.

Stella looks through the binoculars again and smiles.

“The shooters are helping everyone else,” she says. “Clearing out the thick groups so Elsbeth can do her thing.”

“Ooh, let me see,” I say, reaching for the binoculars. Stella bats my hand away even though the binoculars are well out of my reach. “No fair.”

“Tough shit,” Stella says.

“Mickey! Trent! Go right!” Amy orders as she and Joe move left.

Leaving us alone as bait.

“Hey!” I shout. “What the hell?”

“Keep your heads down!” Amy yells at us. “Don’t move and you’ll be fine!”

Just a heads up, if you hear someone say “don’t move and you’ll be fine” in the apocalypse that usually means you are fucked. I’d totally tuck my head between my knees and kiss my ass goodbye, but that would hurt too much and I’d probably pass out anyway.

The Zs come right for Stella and me then get cut in half in the crossfire from Mickey and Trent on one side and Joe and Amy on the other. It’s obvious they’ve used this tactic before because they angle their shots so that stray bullets don’t become not so friendly fire. In a couple of minutes, we’re looking at piles of dead Zs and only a few stragglers trying to get around the mess and at our delicious live flesh.

“Clean up the leftovers while I go see if I can secure the door,” Joe says to Mickey.

“I’ll help,” Amy says then glances at us. “You two alright?”

“Just fine,” I say and give a thumb-up. “Nice teamwork there.”

“Teamwork is the only way we’ve survived.”

“Good to hear,” I say. “It’s reassuring.”

Amy is about to continue following Joe, but turns and walks up to us instead.

“We’ve saved your asses, but that doesn’t mean you are home free,” she says. “If you’re bringing the Consortium down on our heads, and you have that asshole Kramer with you, then you and your group are way more trouble than we can handle. We’re surviving, not thriving. One hard push and it will tip us into the not-surviving category.”

“One good push in the other direction will put you in the thriving category,” Stella replies. “We’re good at the thriving part.”

Amy grins and shakes her head. “Right. Which is why you’re on the run and had to leave your nuked home behind. That’s some good thriving there.”

“You don’t know us,” Stella snaps. “Don’t judge until you do.”

“And you don’t know us,” Amy says, hooking a thumb over her shoulder towards the others. Joe is quickly getting the warped roof access doors put back up. He pulls out a handheld welder from his pack and gets to work while Mickey and Trent put down the last of the Zs one by one with pistols. “See them? We used to never go out without teams of at least a dozen. Don’t have that luxury anymore because we don’t have those numbers anymore.”

“Yeah, survival is a bitch,” I say. “But we just crossed over half the country to get here. We’ve lost a lot of people too, but we’ve also gotten half our people here while dealing with psycho Lizard Jesuses and zombie herds the size of a Bonnaroo crowd.”

“Lizard Jesus?” Amy asks. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Some cult leader guy named Kelvin and his shotgun acolytes,” I say. “We ran into them back in Illinois. No bueno.”

“You ran into Kelvin? Kelvin Holston? And you got away?” Amy asks, looking impressed. “How? No one gets away from the Tomb.”

“Am I the only one that isn’t part of this apocalyptic conspiracy club?” I ask. “How the hell do you know Lizard Jesus?”

Amy frowns and Stella says, “That’s what he’s named Kelvin. My husband is big on the nicknames.”

“Joe? You okay?” Amy calls out.

“Yeah, I got this,” he replies as he continues working on the doors.

Amy crouches next to me.

“Do you think these survivor pockets are random?” Amy asks. “Do you think the cities that have been destroyed just fell on bad luck?”

“No?” I respond. “Yes? You tell me.”

“Nothing is random,” she says. “The reason certain areas have survived is because they have had folks like me, like Kelvin Holston, like Camille Thornberg, keeping things together.”

“And Asheville?” I ask. “We did a good job keeping it together there in Whispering Pines.”

“Bang-up job,” Amy says.

“Vance,” Stella says. “Edward Vance.”

Amy laughs then holds out a hand to apologize. “Sorry. Vance was a placeholder. He was prepping the area for Anthony Mondello.”

“That didn’t work out so well,” I say. “I killed them both.”

“Right,” Amy smirks then sees the look on Stella’s face. “You killed Vance and Mondello? You’re that guy?”

“I’m that guy,” I smile then pause. “Wait, what guy? The hero guy? Because if you mean the hero guy then that’s me.”

“Technically, the Zs got Mondello,” Stella says. “But that happened because of Jace.”

“I kill by proxy too,” I say.

“Shit,” Amy says, her entire demeanor changing. “You’re that guy. You’re those people. Hmmm.” She’s lost in thought for a few seconds then clears her throat. “What about Kelvin? What happened to him? How’d you get away?”