Hellifax (4 page)

“Keeps me alive.”

“Yeah, well, I sure as Wild Bill’s shit stain got the jump on you.”

“You did,” Tenner said, puzzling over the odd expletive. “You did that.”

“Where you from?”

“Ontario.”

“Uh-huh. Things bad out there?”

“As bad as here,” Tenner stated. Bowman led him though a corridor of glass, metal railing, and beige carpet. “This is indicative of most cities, I imagine.”

“I only came into the city a few days ago,” Bowman informed him, stopping at a black door. “Had to be careful on the way in. Packs of zombies all over the place, but they move around, eh. Like tides. Plenty of things lying around the city, though. Just have to find them is all.
Risk
finding them. Plenty of zombies around, too, if that needs to be said.”

Bowman pushed the door open and went inside, mindful of where Tenner was behind him. An open walkway overlooked a main foyer with dark green fountains of people and animals, while sheets of iron could be seen barricading the outer windows at ground level, creating a fortress of sorts. They walked to a stairwell and went up a floor. This level had more empty corridors and offices with worn beige carpet and brown wood panelling. Paper debris and empty food wrappers gathered along the walls and corners, and a fresh breath of air whistled throughout. The area appeared more than a little secure.

“Jesus,” Tenner said softly. “Somebody have a banquet up here?”

“You smell that?” Bowman asked, ignoring the question.

The other man inhaled. “Yeah, I do. Is that… is that
curry
?”

Bowman had to smile at the longing in that question. “It is.”

“You have curry here?” His black eyes gleamed, ravenous.

“I found it here, amongst other things. MREs.”

“You found MREs?” Tenner was amazed.

Bowman’s smile widened. It was good to make another person feel some semblance of hope.

“Whole pile. Water, too, if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested.”

“I can tell. Come on this way.”

They finally entered the reception area of an office unit on the third floor, the interior dreary and cold. A desk had been upturned and a leather sofa rested against the right wall. A huge potted plant in the corner lay on its side, dirt spread across the carpet. Grey blankets covered the couch, folded neatly, a stark contrast to the remainder of the room.

“Have a seat there,” Bowman said, indicating an office chair with a high, leather back. Tenner sat down behind the desk. An open doorway behind him allowed some light into the room, but otherwise, the place was a void. If either man didn’t know any better, this place could have been located in someplace as desolate as the shores of the Arctic Circle or the South Pole.

The leather of the chair creaked softly as Tenner leaned back, his arms on the rests.

Bowman remained standing and, for a long time, contemplated his visitor.

“You know something,” he finally said, “I’ve been on my own now for a bit. Had some friends at the onset of all of this, but the last one got bit and died a year ago. Been living ’n scrounging all along the South Shore, making my way here. Haven’t seen too many others alive. Why do you figure that is?”

“Most have died,” Tenner pointed out.

“Course most have died, I’m no igit. The way I see it, whoever’s lived this long knows what they’re doing. You probably know what you’re doing, right? If you got all that shit aboard your rig out there.”

Tenner’s jaw slackened.

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to take anything,” Bowman went on, understanding the look. “But I’m getting on in years. Coming into the city was a mistake. Got this far and, well, made some good finds, but damned if I can’t get it all back out.”

“Uh… how did you get here?” Tenner asked, genuinely curious.

“Walked.”

“You walked.”

“Never drove a day in my life. Wasn’t going to start after the apocalypse. Was a time I could walk or run ten, twelve kilometers in a day. Not hard to do. However, be that as it may, I’m faced with a problem here.”

“Oh shit,” Tenner looked to his feet.

“Why ‘oh shit’?”

“You’re gonna shoot me.”

Bowman scrunched up his hairy face. “You seem awfully sure I’m about to do you harm. Didn’t you hear what I just said? Them parts about being on my own for a while, but there’s strength in numbers, right? Chances are, neither one of us is going to get out of the city before full winter hits. Not with all them dead people out there. What say you and I team up? Watch each other’s backs?”

Bowman sat on the couch, placing his shotgun across his knees.

“Well… sure, why not?” Tenner said slowly, uncertain. “Until we get out of the city, then. You might turn out to be an asshole.”

“Just might.” Bowman smirked. “You never know these days. We team up, and you can have half of whatever’s around.”

“What is around?” Tenner asked.

“Food and water.” Bowman paused. “Curry. Beef and chicken, from what I remember.” He smiled again at Tenner’s obvious dismay. The man was practically salivating. “Place was occupied by the military as far as I can see. Until they got overrun.”

“This was an Army base?”

“Temporary one, at least. From what I can see, they barricaded the streets with buses and these iron walls, set up machine gun nests, and cut loose. What you saw coming in ain’t got nothing on the mess on the other end.”

“The zombies got everyone?”

“Looks that way. I’ve been here in this place for two days now, scouting the area, and haven’t seen anything really. A few zombies wander through, but nothing like what hit this place before. You’ll see. It’s goddamn shocking is what it is. Especially on the other end. Dead piled up from one end of the street to the other, looking like…like…a great big fleshy U. Spooky, too.”

“And you managed to live this long.”

“Not the only one.” Bowman nodded slyly at Tenner.

“Did you check out the armories?”

Bowman blinked as if remembering something. “That’s right. There’s a national one around here.”

“You haven’t been there?”

“Not my town,” Bowman answered. “And you just got here.”

“We’ll have to check it out. They got weapons there. Ammo.”

“Might be something to do. I’m running low, actually. You seem to be doing all right.” Bowman reached down to his boot, pulled out one of Tenner’s sidearms, and studied it.

“Be careful with the triggers,” Tenner warned.

“Touchy, are they?”

“Very.”

“Hm.” Bowman inspected it for a bit before leaning forward and handing the weapon back to Tenner, butt first.

Tentatively, the tall man reached out and took it back. He smiled then, a shark’s smile, and for a moment Bowman thought he’d made a mistake.

But Tenner disarmed him with a shake of the weapon and a genuine sigh of relief. “My baby. It was my dad’s.”

He holstered the gun.

“Wait,” Bowman said after a few seconds. He stretched for the other in his boot, but Tenner waved him off.

“Keep it. That’s a Glock you have there. Extended magazine. Seventeen shots in it. Much more than that blunderbuss you got. If you check the sides, you’ll see a selector switch. It can go full automatic if you need it. I don’t recommend it since you can burn through a mag pretty quick.”

“Hm.” Bowman grunted and returned it to his boot. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tenner said eagerly. “Just break out the curry.”

They talked into the evening, eating MREs that Bowman took from a supply room filled with boxes of the instant meals. Tenner explained his reasons for coming into the city as he dug into his curry chicken, eating noisily. He figured that with the two of them, they could take his truck and see what they could find at the armory. Bowman told him there wasn’t much in the way of weapons in the building, and whatever was outside had been ruined by the elements. Except for the food and water.

When the room darkened, Bowman rose and closed the doors to the office before taking out a pair of self-generating flashlights and illuminating the place with wide beams of white light. The wind outside chilled the corridors and periodically rattled the windows, and the two men wrapped themselves in grey blankets. Bowman and Tenner told tales of their survival in the new world. Bowman wasn’t surprised to hear Tenner’s own group had eventually been decimated by the dead. It was a sad, but common story in the new world.

“Where do we sleep?” Tenner eventually asked.

“You can take any of the other offices. Sleep with the curry for all I care,” Bowman said.

“No watches?”

“The barricades downstairs hold off the dead. And I haven’t come across one yet that could use a ladder. We’re okay. Just be mindful of flashing that light of yours around windows. The light might attract them.”

“Just like fishing.” Tenner smiled in the grey light.

“Yeah, like that,” Bowman said.

“Well, how about we check out the armory tomorrow?”

“Nothing better to do.”

Tenner paused, then stood up. He took in the office before resting his gaze on Bowman’s huddled form on the sofa.

“Ah,” the tall man began, “just want to say… thanks for feeding me and all. And thanks for not shooting me. Appreciated.”

Bowman held up a hand. “Not a problem. Glad you’re here.”

Tenner seemed to think about something, but the big man shrugged and pointed at the door before Bowman could ask what was on his mind.

“In the morning, then,” he said.

“In the morning,” Bowman agreed.

Nodding once more, Tenner left the office, and Bowman listened to him fumbling about in the corridor. The sound of his steps receded to a pause, then there was a shrill squeal of hinges, and a door closed.

Bowman could understand that. He slept with the doors closed and barricaded himself. He got up and did just that, taking out a long piece of two-by-four, which he braced against the door knob. Just a precaution.

Despite a couple of moments where Tenner had seemed to study Bowman with a strange look in his eye, Bowman was pretty sure he was okay. The looks he could attribute to him being on his own for a while. If life on the run didn’t change a person just a little, Bowman didn’t know what could. The man even gave him a fully loaded gun. That made Bowman feel better about Tenner.

It was good to have someone to talk to after such a long time.

They ate breakfast under a heavy great canopy of a cloud that, as Bowman put it, looked as if it was deciding on whether to shit snow or piss rain. Once they ate, Bowman took Tenner on a short tour of the building, first showing him where the stacked cardboard boxes of MREs and wooden pallets of bottled water—enough to feed a small army—had been stashed on the second and third floors.

“They used this place as a command center, I figure,” Bowman observed, standing outside one of the offices turned storage rooms. “There’s an office with a couple of desks pushed together with an old downtown map on it all marked up.”

“What’s upstairs?” Tenner asked.

“Not much,” Bowman replied. “Just a view of the city.”

“How many stories?”

“About twenty? Maybe twenty one? It’s a long hike. Too bad the elevator’s out.”

“Yeah, too bad,” Tenner trailed off, thinking.

“What?” Bowman asked.

“Just wondering when we should be getting on looking for an armory. Figure it’s about eight in the morning now. Let’s head on up to one of the upper levels and see if we can’t spot something to use as a reference point or a place to start looking.”

“Well, there are naval shipyards around here somewhere.”

“You know where?”

Bowman shook his head.

“Let’s head on upstairs, then. We need our guns?”

“Nah. Nothing up there. Take one of your pistols there if you really need it.”

“Already got it. Better to have it than yadda yadda.” They had both heard the line before. Tenner started walking toward one of the stairwells, and Bowman followed. They opened a door, and Tenner noted for the first time the sparse light from above.

“Wedged some of the doors open,” Bowman explained. “Not all. Not much light, but it’s something. Otherwise, it’d be too damn dark in there. Spooky.”

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday you walked all over Nova Scotia?” Tenner asked with a smile.

“Did.”

“That’s some spooky shit to me.”

“Never thought of it at the time. Too busy looking out for zombies,” Bowman said.

“I’ve been on the road myself,” Tenner said, pausing on the doorway’s threshold. “Some side roads and whatnot. Easy to bypass the Philistines. The dead, I mean. But every now and again I’d meet up with folks like yourself. People looking for help, hoping I was with the government or the military, y’know. Good people. I’d stay with them for a while when I found them, but none wanted to leave their property. They all figured it was best to stay indoors. Befuddled the hell outta me at the time, but now I understand they were terrified.
Terrified
of what might be coming up the road. Dead or living. There are crazies out there.”

“Crazies?”

“People gone insane. Or people who were insane before the Fall and are now just having the time of their lives. One guy lured me into his house, right? Had his girlfriend hide in a closet behind me and when I sat down, she came out and tried to take my head off with an axe. A fucking axe!”

“Christ. What did you do?”

“Did the only thing I could,” Tenner said with a shrug. “Defended myself. I got out of there, too, and had them shoot the rear windshield outta my pickup.”

Bowman blinked. “Your pickup?”

“Had it before the SUV,” Tenner explained. “Anyway, those two scared the shit out of me. Chased me down their country road until I got back to the highway and got away. Close one, and there were others. But there’s worse out there than just fucking bug-nut freaks. Much worse. Did you know that, of the whole population of the world—fifteen billion, right?—of that, I heard that experts once said that one percent were probably sociopaths. Folks who have no concept of good or bad and no inhibitions of any kind. Evil cocksuckers with no regard for those living around them, who wouldn’t blink if they jammed a knife into someone’s windpipe.”