The Undertakers: End of the World (23 page)

He nodded. “I blew it again. She made me promise not to tell you.”

“I know,” I said. “She told me. But it’s okay, because I’m gonna fix it. I’m gonna fix
all
of it.”

“I believe you,” Maxi Me told me, and the confidence in his voice scared the crap out of me.

But it was kind of cool, too.

“Alex knows to move her up to the twentieth floor with the rest,” Emily said. “That floor is especially well fortified, and a number of the refugees have offered to fight back against the Corpses, if need be. She’ll be safe enough.” It was a lie—or, at best, wishful thinking. But, since we both knew it, I saw no point in saying so.

As the twentieth floor slid past, I caught a quick glimpse of Alex Bobson. He stood at one of the stairway doors, waving through the last of the refugees. Men, women, and children, all dressed in rags, poured past him, filling the tight space and laying blankets as they had downstairs. A few of them—the children especially—were crying, but most looked too tired to be frightened.

That would change.

“It’s the kids,” William said in a strained voice. “Those are the ones who really break my heart. They were born into this world, or are too young to remember it the way it was before. They all deserved better than they got. But then the first casualty of war is innocence.”

I nodded miserably.

Just before I lost sight of him, Alex’s head suddenly came up. He was probably reacting to the sound of the passing elevator and, for an instant, his eyes met mine.

He actually saluted.

It was a quick, casual gesture, made by a man on mission, a man without time to spare. But he did it. As our elevator car continued up to the next level, he disappeared from view.

I never saw him again—at least not
this
version of him.

Silently, I made myself a promise. If, by some miracle, Steve’s “last resort”
did
work and I made it safely back to my time, I’d have a talk with the dude’s younger self. His, as it turned out, was a friendship worth having.

I asked Emily and William, “What do you know about Project Four?”

“Where’d you hear about that?” William asked.

“Sharyn,” I said. “You never briefed me on it.”

He sighed and nodded. “We would have,” he said. “But I told Steve to hold off until we were ready to send you back. I’d promised Sharyn that I wouldn’t tell you about her, and I couldn’t think of a way to explain Project Four without breaking that promise.”

“I figured,” I told him.

“That particular project was Steve’s favorite,” Emily replied. “He was working with the Sharyn from your time, pulling her into our second temporal clean room and teaching her how to use an electric javelin to destroy the Eternity Stone. He couched the whole thing in dreams using the Consciousness Wand. Even built a holographic crystal and a handful of robotic
Malum
to help improve the training experience.” She spoke wistfully, almost reverently.

“I’m sorry, sis,” I said.

“Me too, bro,” she said.

“But where
is
this javelin?” I asked. “Don’t I need to take it back with me, if Sharyn’s supposed to use it?”

Maxi Me replied, “As I understand it, the one Sharyn used in training was just a mock-up, like the robots and the fake Eternity Stone.”

“Where’s the real one?”

“It was his favorite secret,” Emily said. “He never told me, other than to drop little hints. He didn’t even blog about it. Whenever I asked him, he always told me not to worry … that Sharyn would know how to find it … or make it … or something, when the time came.”

“
Sharyn
would?” I exclaimed. “Sharyn’s a great fighter, but constructing super-weapons isn’t her thing!”

“I know,” she said. “And I told him that, more than once. But the most I got out of him was a smile and a wink.”

A smile and a wink.

Great.

“What good is that?” I demanded, suddenly angry. “I mean, what’s the point of all the dream-training if he’s not going to give her the actual weapon?”

Emily wiped away a fresh tear. “Steve could be like that. Too smart for his own good … for all our good. All I can tell you is that he promised me the javelin would be available when the time came.”

That sounded ridiculous, and I almost said so. But the look of grief on my big little sister’s face stopped me cold. So, instead I asked with an exasperated sigh, “Why ‘Four?’”

“I have no idea. Maybe that project also needs a better name.”

“Quick stop,” Maxi Me remarked as the elevator clattered to a halt on the twenty-first floor.

Control.

The moment we stepped out of the elevator, the half-dozen radio operators closed around their chief, all of them talking at once. They were clearly scared and given what they were saying, I couldn’t blame them.

All of the other surviving human outposts had fallen, overrun by the walking dead. Their radio operators had stayed on until the last possible second before going dark, often wrapped in screams. One by one, pins had been removed from the map board.

Now, only one pin was left.

Philadelphia.

Us.

“I understand,” William told them, hugging each of them or shaking their hands. “Why don’t you head downstairs. Your families have been moved up to twenty. Go be with them. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

The room emptied. As the last of them left and Emily, William, and I waited for the elevator to return, the three of us shared the same desolate look. We all knew where those people were going, and what was going to happen to them down there.

None of us spoke.

Once the elevator clattered to a stop in front of us, we boarded it and rode one last floor upward, to the Observation Deck. On the way, I cleared my throat and asked, “If I
do
manage to get back and destroy the Eternity Stone, that’ll change the future, right?”

“That’s the theory,” the chief said.

“I mean, it’ll change
this
future,” I pressed.

“Yes,” said Emily.

“So none of this will ever have happened. Steve and Amy and Helene and all the rest will still be alive.”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Are you … sure?”

I really, really wanted her to be sure.

Emily smiled. My sister always had such a beautiful smile. “Here’s how sure I am.” When the elevator stopped at the top of the building, she pushed the latticed door open and stepped aside. Then to William, she said, “You two go out and do what needs doing. I’m going to go down to twenty to help hold the line. Once I’m there, I’ll send the elevator back up. If … when … it gets too bad up here, radio me and I’ll set off the explosives. That’ll seal the elevator shaft. But be sure guys, because it’ll trap you both up here as well.”

William looked at her for a long moment. Then he said, “Don’t wait for us to radio. Once you’re down there and the elevator’s back up here, blow the shaft.”

My stomach felt like it was full of sand.

A single tear traced Emily’s cheek. “I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” William told her.

Then Emily faced me, wearing an expression of almost beatific resignation. “Big brother,” she said gently. “Your being here at all is a miracle. I’m sorry for the lies we told you.”

“Lies?” I asked.

“Well, not lies, exactly. But Amy and I let you believe that she was an angel, and that we had all the answers. We needed you to keep true to the timeline and to do what you had to do to win the first war. That’s why we could never reveal to you how bad things were for us.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, meaning it. “I get it. But Em, I—”

She cut me off. “So now
you’re
the angel and
we’re
the ones who need a miracle. I want you to give me my Steve back, and Helene, and Amy, and Burt, and all the rest. You can’t save everyone. Chuck, Ian and the Burgermeister … and all the others who died to win the war, they’re gone. But everything else that’s happened since,
that
you
can
undo.”

A line in the sand.

A line on the calendar.

“I’ll try,” I said. “I swear it.”

“I love you, big brother.” No tears this time, just that sad sweet smile.

She hugged me. Then she hugged the older me. And, without another word, William and I stepped off the elevator and watched as Emily Ritter rode it down and away.

Her eyes stayed on mine, on both of ours, until she was gone from view.

I never saw her again, either.

Project Emergency Escape

The moans of the dead were all around us as Maxi Me and I exited the cast-iron elevator house and stepped out onto the narrow curving walkway of the tower’s Observation Deck. At least it wasn’t raining anymore, though the gray clouds completely covered a sky hung so low that it almost seemed as if the night had a ceiling.

William tested the wind. “Still out of the west,” he said. “Let’s head around to the other side.”

As we followed the walkway around the base of Billy Penn’s statue, I spared a second to peer over the railing. What I saw sent a razor slash of terror right through me.

Corpses. Thousands of them.

They covered City Hall almost like an animated coat of paint, scaling the walls and spilling into the courtyard in a mad dash to reach the tower. The saltwater sprayers were running, sort of, though the stream of water was a lot less than before. Amy’s handiwork.

Amy.

She still lay where I’d left her, looking small and broken. William knelt beside the body, touching her face with trembling hands. When he looked back at me, there was a moment of recrimination in his eyes. But then his expression softened.

I heard him whisper. “Almost done.”

Then he stood, stepped over the dead woman and went straight to the tarp-covered
something
that was mounted a few feet along the curved railing.

Working the knots that held the canvas in place, he pulled the tarp free.

Underneath it was a gun.

A
big
gun.

“What’s that?” I asked, coming forward. Every fiber of my being wanted to avoid stepping around the woman I’d killed, but I did it anyway. My being’s fibers are used to being ignored.

“A saltwater cannon,” the older me replied. “I had Alex install it a couple of months ago, kind of as a last ditch defensive backup. It works on a different system than the sprinklers, so Amy’s sabotage shouldn’t have affected it. It pumps water straight up from the river and through a salt reservoir. Its range isn’t great, but it should buy us the time we need to get you ready to go.”

Around us, the moans of the dead got louder. The Corpses were coming, climbing the tower on all sides.

Even so, I took a moment to say, “That was a good speech downstairs.”

He looked at me. “Was it?”

“Yeah,” I said, doing my best to muster a smile. “Made me proud. Do you think it’s possible to be proud of yourself … when the ‘yourself’ you’re proud of isn’t exactly … well …
you
?”

It may have been the stupidest sentence my brain ever conjured up.

But, to my surprise, he nodded as if he understood completely. “Yes,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Trust me, it is.” Then, before I could work out what he meant by that, he added, “Duck.”

I ducked.

William pointed the water cannon over my head and fired a laser-like stream at the curved railing behind me. I turned in time to see two deaders, the first of many, get blasted off the Observation Deck’s edge, their bodies disappearing into darkness.

Maxi Me whirled the gun around and fired again, this time down along the tower’s outer wall. I peered over the railing and saw a half-dozen Corpses tumble away, arms and legs akimbo. Almost immediately, more replaced them.

I wondered, with the Queen iced, who exactly was in charge down there. Had some new
Malum
leader caste taken command?

Then I decided it didn’t matter.

Not one bit.

I took the bundle—Project Emergency Escape—from over my shoulder and opened the flap at one end. Inside were shoulder straps and some kind of canvas harness that was meant to fit under my legs and around my waist. Just seeing them made my stomach lurch, because I knew what they were for.

Ever hear of BASE jumping?

It stands for Building Arial Span Earth, and it’s a kind of skydiving, only instead of jumping out of an airplane, you jump off something high, like a rooftop, or a cell tower, or a bridge, or a cliff—hence the name. Back in my time, it was an extreme sport, illegal in most places. But people still did it. If it’s crazy, there are
always
people who are willing to risk their lives to find out how crazy.

Personally, I don’t get that. Yeah, I take risks, plenty of them. But I do it because I
have
to—because, if I don’t, then friends die. I’m a soldier, and taking chances pretty much goes with the territory.

But I don’t
play
with my life.

Which was why the absolute
last
thing I wanted to do was strap on this “prototype” and jump off the tower and out into the Philadelphia night. In fact, every gray cell in my brain demanded that I put this bundle down and run away from it, preferably screaming.

Instead, sweat pouring from my face and hands, I climbed into the harness, found the buckles, and cinched them tight, just as Steve’s V-blog had said to do.

Meanwhile, four Corpses climbed over the railing behind me and, without needing to swap words, I dropped again and let Maxi Me nail them with the water cannon. Three more peeked over the opposite railing, and he pivoted the weapon and tagged them too.

“How much ammo you got?” I asked him, still fiddling with the straps.

“Plenty,” he replied. But I could see from his expression that he was worried. We were on the east side of an Observation Deck that circled the elevator house at the top of the tower. We couldn’t see more than maybe a third of the floor space up here, which meant that the dead might have already reached the top on the far side of the deck and we wouldn’t even know it.

Sooner, rather than later, they’d get organized and attack from both directions, overwhelming the cannon—and us.