S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (85 page)

Ramon levered the tire iron from the van's tool box further along the edge of the Audi's hood and pushed down with a grunt. He'd been trying for the past twenty minutes, working at the panel like it was the lid on the last can of chili in existence. The tire iron slipped and flew past his head with a loud
ping
. It landed several feet away.

“Goddamn it!” he cried, then dropped to his knees beside the car. The back of his shirt was filthy with dirt from the bike path and dark with sweat.

Lyssa checked around her once more before offering to switch places.

“No, stay there.” He raised his hand to stop her. “I'll be fine. Just give me a sec.”

“You should stop and take a break, put something in your stomach.”

Like Cassie, he refused to eat or drink anything.

“You need to keep your strength up.”

He threw her a resentful look before he went over and picked up the tire iron. She watched as he bounced it in his good hand. He looked like he wanted to fling it away. But he walked back to the Audi and began to pry at the hood once again.

A few minutes later, his efforts were finally rewarded. He dropped the iron and reached beneath the edge and strained to lever the hood open. The sound it made was alarmingly loud.

“You should keep the crowbar with you,” she called down.

He struggled mightily with the last few inches, his muscles straining. He put his shoulder against the edge of the hood and cried out as he pushed upward. Finally satisfied, he wedged the tire iron in the opening.

It only took a few minutes to hook up the jumper cables and get the van started. After they transferred their dwindling supplies, he moved Cassie and the dog, then gestured for Lyssa to climb down.

“There's blood splattered on the dashboard,” he quietly told her. “I wiped most of it away, but there's some on the seat, too. Driver's side isn't as bad. You could sit in back with Cass on the floor. But there's no seats and there's not much room.”

She noticed he didn't offer to let her drive.

“What's back there?” she asked.

“Equipment,” he replied. “Computers, monitors. Tools. I removed everything that wasn't bolted down, but it's still pretty cramped back there. In fact, Shinji could sit up front so you can stay back there with Cass. He won't mind the blood.”

But he apparently did. Shinji jumped easily into the driver's seat, but when Ramon tried to push him over, he resisted with a low growl.

“He wants to drive,” Cassie said, speaking up for the first time in over an hour.

Lyssa gave her a wan smile and nodded. “He'll have to fight Daddy first.”

* * *

They reached the end of the gravel road a couple minutes later and proceeded to Route
112
. As expected, the interchange was blocked. Nevertheless, Ramon pulled up behind the line of cars. A soldier standing to one side pointed to the shoulder and gestured for them to pull forward.

Someone honked and shouted, “Hey! We've been waiting here for the past hour! Why does he get to go?”

“Official vehicles only, sir,” the soldier replied.

“Get down,” Ramon told Lyssa and Cassie. “Keep out of sight. They think we're with iTech.”

He turned onto the shoulder and pulled forward.

“You headed over to the new command site, sir?” the soldier asked.

“Excuse me?” Ramon replied.

“Jayne's Hill. That's where they're setting up the new iTech command center. They said they were waiting on another portable transmitter to boost the signal. That's you, I'm assuming. Someone torched the antenna there.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. It's been a long day already.”

“Tell me about it. Where's the rest of your team?”

“Went ahead. I got held up and my radio died. What's going on?”

“All hell broke loose last night.” He snapped his fingers, and Ramon's thoughts immediately went to Lyssa's analogy of a switch being flipped. “Containment's still iffy in Holbrook, so I advise you to skip
495
altogether. Just keep going south through Medford until you hit
27
. Then hook north on Town Line Road in Islip. I know it's out of your way, but—”

“Might be quicker to get on
25
,” Ramon countered.

“It's a shithole right now. We got a couple squads doing mop up from Farmingville to Smithtown. You don't want to be anywhere near there right now.” A pause, then, “Um, sir, you know about the animal restriction, right? No dogs, sir.”

“Shinji? He keeps watch for me.”

“I understand, sir. Those infected things scare the crap out of me, too. But you know I can't let you pass with him. The health department—”

“I'm sure you can make an exception, Private . . . .”

“Hildebrandt, sir.”

There was another pause, this one longer, and Lyssa was sure the soldier had finally figured out that Ramon wasn't who he thought he was. “Okay, sir. But I didn't see him. And, sir, I'd advise he stay out of sight in the back. The closer you get to ground zero, the less understanding the other guards are going to be.”

“Good to know. Thank you Private Hildebrandt. I'll make sure to let my superiors know you're doing a great job.”

“Appreciated, sir. Remember: South through Medford, then west on
27
, then north on Town Line. That should get you around the mess. And when you're in town, keep your windows and doors shut. They cleared Medford, but we're still getting a few reports of attacks. You'll see a lot of military presence. Anyone tries to get to you, make sure they can speak, answer your questions first.”

“Got it.” Ramon began to roll his window up.

“And one last thing, sir. Drop your tower.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your transmission tower. It's still extended.”

“Ah, right. Thanks. With everything happening so suddenly, I almost forgot.”

“Between you and me, sir? They should just tell everyone the truth.” The soldier laughed uncertainly when Ramon didn't respond. “But I totally understand why they're not,” Hildebrandt quickly added.

He slapped the side of the van, making Lyssa jump, and whistled shrilly toward another soldier standing by a lift gate further up the road.

“You're good to go. Don't get bit.”

 

“They're lying to us,” Ramon said. He somehow managed to sound surprised.

After collapsing the transmission tower, he'd found the switch for the bubble light on the roof and turned it on. He hoped it wasn't overkill. They all knew how lucky they'd been to fool the young guard. They didn't want to think about what might happen to them if they were caught.

As they approached the overpass for the Long Island Expressway, Lyssa could see the barricade that had been erected. The highway was closed, just as the soldier had indicated. Nobody was getting on.

Ramon slowed as they entered Medford. They pulled up to another line of idling cars and, as before, they were waved forward. The police officer pulled aside the barrier and waited for them to pass through before replacing it. Ramon weaved his way carefully through, muttering a warning for Lyssa to keep their heads down. But the officer didn't even look at him, just pointed to where they were supposed to go.

The right-of-way forced them onto a sidewalk, over a curb, then diagonally across a parking lot at a four-way intersection. Most of the businesses in the plaza were shuttered, their insides darkened. A group of soldiers was gathered outside of a deli. They pressed tightly against each other, as if eager to get inside.

“The sandwiches at this place are pretty good,” Ramon muttered, “but not
that
good.”

“Don't talk about food right now.”

“If you're hungry, the box is back there.”

“I'm not hungry,” Lyssa snapped. Her stomach was cramping up something terrible, and she was feeling dizzy. Sitting in the dark on the floor inside a hot van wasn't helping.

“Mama's sick. We're all sick.”

“Just a little nausea, Cassie honey. I'll be fine.”

The timbre of the soldiers' voices outside changed suddenly.

“What's going on, Rame?” She hated not being able to see everything.

“I don't know.” He leaned forward and tried to look through the passenger side window. “I can't see much.”

“Can you give us a little air back here? We're burning up.”

But he didn't. He was staring at the crowd, and his face had gone pale.

“Rame?”

Shinji started to bark, snapping him out of his trance. He reached over and grabbed the dog's scruff and pushed him down into the footwell. “Knock it off!” he hissed. “Shinji! Stop it!” But the puppy was having none of it. He turned his head and tried to nip at Ramon. He was frantic.

The shouting outside grew louder. The soldiers sounded angry.

“Looks like a fight,” Ramon said, struggling to keep Shinji down.

Something hit the side of the van. Cassie began to whimper. “It's alright, honey,” Lyssa told her. “It's just soldiers letting off some steam.” She turned to Ramon and asked why they weren't going.

“There's a police car in front of me.”

As if on cue, its siren began to sound and its lights began to spin. A second black-and-white, appeared from around the corner. It jumped the curb and came screeching to a stop about thirty feet beyond the other car. The officers jumped out, pulled their service revolvers from their holsters, and aimed them directly at the soldiers.

“Jesus Christ. What are they going to do, shoot them for having an argument? Maybe they ran out of provolone or something.”

Lyssa tried to see. She could hear the officers shouting at the soldiers to break it up.

“It's like a rugby scrum,” Ramon said. “I hope they don't start shooting. All it'd take is a stray bullet and— Damn it, Lyssa! I said stay down!” He put the van into reverse and checked the mirrors, but there was nowhere to go.

To Lyssa, the group of soldiers tussling in front of the store really did look like a rugby scrum. The ones toward the outside were reaching over the ones further in. All at once, the whole group surged toward the van.

The officers swiveled their weapons.

“Get down!” Ramon shouted.

The officers were shouting and waving their hands. “Break it up! Separate!”

Several of the soldiers peeled away. The group lost cohesion and began to disintegrate.

“Well, looks like the show's over.”

From somewhere in the center of the scrum came the sharp report of a gunshot. Then another.

“Holy Jesus!” Ramon shouted, ducking. “What the f—”

“Hold your fire!” the police officers screamed. “Hold—”

Several more shots rang out. A soldier fell, bleeding from his chest. Others spun away. They ran screaming across the cement. The officers opened up, shooting anything that moved.

“Oh my god!” Ramon cried. “Oh shit!” The van lurched backward, slamming into the car behind them and turning from the impact. Lyssa could see the soldiers now, the ones the officers were firing upon.

A bullet pierced the corner of the windshield and exited through the roof.

“God damn it! Stop shooting! I've got a child in here! Get down, Lyssa. Keep Cassie down!”

He shifted into forward and tried to ram the police car, but the van's engine coughed and stalled.

The small cluster of soldiers finally fell apart. The few who could escape ran or limped away. Several were crawling, their wails of anguish punctuated by the unending barrage from the police pistols.

At least four dead. That's what Lyssa had counted before she ducked. More than a dozen wounded. She couldn't tell exactly because there was a pile of them just inside the store. And for what? A hoagie?

The cluster in the doorway shifted.

“Hold your fire!” an officer shouted. The thunder quieted. Smoke drifted across the parking lot.

Out of the darkness of the sandwich shop, like a spirit rising from the deceased, a single figure rose. He was dressed in a flowing green robe, now splattered in red. And but for the foam crown of thorns on his head, he looked like a ghost.

“The dancing statue,” Cassie whispered.

“Is he hurt?”

More shifting from the pile, this time one of the soldiers. Then another. The bodies appeared riddled with bullets, and yet they rose to their feet and began to stumble out of the store.

Now others who had lain on the cement began to move. One further away. Another nearby.

The soldiers who had managed to get away first now took up defensive positions behind the police cars. They pointed their rifles at their comrades-in-arms.

“Is it a training exercise?” Lyssa asked, even as she knew how ridiculous that was. The bullet that had shattered the corner of their windshield hadn't been made of rubber.

The man in the Liberty costume pushed past the soldiers. He raised his head and seemed to look straight into Lyssa's eyes. She gasped in horror as she saw the bright red smear on his face and knew that he'd succumbed to the Stream. He'd attacked the soldiers, and they had tried to stop him.

More figures occupied the parking lot.

“There's more inside!” shouted one of the soldiers. “Save your ammo!”

The costumed man opened his mouth, and even through the walls of the van, Lyssa could hear his moan. His tongue slipped out, a blackened slug of muscle, thick and tattered by his own teeth. A chunk of red meat fell from his lips.

“Get us out of here, Rame.”

But the van wouldn't start.

The robed man and the other soldiers began to lurch toward them. Gunshots rang out and puffs of red filled the air about their bodies. The back of one soldier's scalp exploded and he fell. Lyssa screamed.

The van finally roared to life and rocketed forward, straight into the line of fire. Lyssa and Cassie were thrown against the back door. The van crunched to a stop and they tumbled forward.