Authors: Better Hero Army
Twenty-Seven
The horde
pushed through the hazy backdrop of the snowscape, stumbling in the deep powder, a hundred clumsy, shambling figures that toppled easily. When one fell, the next simply took its place, walking over its fallen comrade sometimes, other times skirting it to blaze new pathways. It seemed like a joke believing the things were a threat to anyone as slowly as they came, but Penelope knew the front line was deceptive. Behind them came row upon row of zombies unencumbered by the obstruction of fresh snow. They used each other as plows or bridges, and in this capacity they were unrelenting. Penelope knew you could stay ahead of them only as long as you never stopped.
Two
more half-breeds guided the zombies, each carrying small animal carcasses on the ends of poles like carrots for a mule. In unison, the two half-breeds swung their poles and the carcasses flew through the air toward the terminal building.
Whack, whack
, the two carcasses hit so hard Penelope thought the window broke, but again, it held.
“Jesus Christ,” Kennedy blurted.
“Everyone back,” Carl yelled, and Penelope was happy to oblige, pulling Tom back toward O’Farrell, who continued to take photo after photo of the oncoming wave of death outside. The two half-breeds veered aside, running through the snow to get out of sight of the zombies that now had a fix on the scent of blood and the sight of shelter.
“
What are they doing?” the Senator asked hotly. “Why are they throwing dead things at the window?”
“They’re attacking,” Tom shouted, his anger getting the best of him. “I told you it wasn’t over.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Really?!” Tom asked incredulously. “They’ve got us trapped in here now.”
“We’re not trapped yet,” Jones said as he zipped up his jacket. “I’m going after those keys.” He hurried for the stairs to the second floor concourse.
“Wait,” O’Farrell said as she ran to keep up.
“Stay here,” Jones ordered, nearly shouting. O’Farrell froze in her tracks, startled by his tone. It was the first time since Penelope met him that he said anything with such fierce conviction. He didn’t look back as he raced up the stairs.
“Should someone go with him?”
Brooks asked.
No one answered
, but it was too late already. The door to the concourse clacked shut behind him.
“Does he have his radio?” O’Farrell asked with concern.
“Don’t try to find out,” Tom said, pointing out the window. “He doesn’t need them breathing down his neck.”
The horde drew closer, the
ir dark shapes now distinguishable through the falling snow. Men and women were hardly discernible from each other, their aged clothes a mishmash assortment of layers scavenged from every closet they could find. Most wore military jackets and pants, which made them appear like an old-time army marching through smoke hovering over the battlefield, the whites of their cloudy eyes hidden deep within their squinting sockets. Long, wet hair lay flat against their heads, the ashen color of their skin glistening as thick lumps of falling snow melted on them.
Their open mouths sang a chorus of moans and groans that went unheard inside the nearly silent terminal building.
Slowly they crept forward, filling in the emptiness outside until there was nothing but what seemed like hundreds of zombies.
“They slab trained them,” O’Farrell blurted suddenly.
“What?” Hank growled.
“The half-breeds. They slab trained the zombies.”
“That’s preposterous,” Kennedy replied. “How would they know how to do that?”
“No, it’s possible. They could have learned it from us, in the lab. We used the same techniques on several specimens.”
“I think we should all back up a little further,” Hank suggested. “They’re getting closer to the glass. If they see us in here, they’ll surround the place trying to get in.”
“Exactly,” O’Farrell said, retreating with the others. “It’s almost like they’re laying siege!”
“OK, that’s a disturbing thought,” Kennedy said.
“Let’s get everyone upstairs,” Hank said. “We need to move those two,” he added, pointing to the pilot and Larissa. Penelope started toward Larissa, but was pushed back by Hank. “You three get
your jackets and any supplies and get upstairs,” Hank said, speaking to the three women. “Tom, go guard the concourse door.”
Tom bounded up the stairs with his shotgun in hand. Penelope scooped up
Tom’s and her own jacket and followed. As she climbed the stairs, she stopped dead in her tracks at hearing a loud
whack
.
“Wait, what’s that
noise?” Hank called out.
It came again
—
Whack!
—and this time everyone knew it came from the bloodied glass that kept out the zombie horde. Penelope leaned over the railing to see a wall of zombies pressing themselves against the glass, their tongues licking at the blood. Several others fought feverishly over the carcasses, ripping limbs off in their ravenous struggle for food. The most disturbing sight, though, were two large points of impact in the tempered glass just above the zombies’ heads. The glass shattered but remained intact, as though the cold outside somehow instantly froze it solid even as it broke.
Then came another large stone tumbling through the air in a long, swift arc.
Whack!
Another wide circle of shattered glass marred the enormous sheet of
plate glass separating them from the horde.
“That’s not good,” Carl said.
Twenty
-Eight
“Everyone get into your gear,” Carl shouted as he reached his arms into his jacket.
Penelope rushed to Tom’s side even as another stone struck the outside window with yet another frightening
whack
. Tom stood with his shoulder and ear against the solid steel door to the concourse jet-way. There was no way to see inside it. Penelope dropped his jacket next to his feet and pushed her arms into her own.
“Thanks,” Tom said, putting the shotgun down as he scooped
up the jacket.
A loud bang came at the door, like something
slamming into it hard. Tom swore at being startled. He ducked down to grab the shotgun. Penelope’s heart skid to a halt. She grabbed Tom by the arm to pull him away, but he didn’t move. Another loud bang came from the door.
“Jones?” Tom called through the door.
Another bang slammed against the door, jostling it on its hinges. It sounded as though a stone were being struck against the door handle.
“There’s something in the concourse,” Tom yelled to the others.
Whack!
A stone hit the glass.
Clack!
A stone struck a different window, the one on the far end of the terminal.
Snap!
Another rock struck a different window. Penelope spun around, listening to them all, looking for their scarring pock marks.
“What’s going on?” Kennedy called out.
“They’re coming in on all sides,” Hank said loud enough for all to hear. “We need another way out.”
Tom and Penelope met O’Farrell and Kennedy at the top of the stairs.
“What are we doing?” Kennedy demanded.
“Back down,” Tom said.
“There are roll-up doors behind ticketing,” Carl told Hank and the Senator, loud enough for everyone to hear. “They’re locked, but we can probably break one open.”
“We’ve got a serious problem with keys around here,” Hank grumbled.
Tom jumped off the last step when another stone slapped into the window with a
whack.
It was followed by a new sound of snapping. Everyone looked toward the window. A long crack ran diagonally the entire length and width of the window, splitting it through the center where the pane was marred with small punctures. The glass began to peel open under the weight of the pressing zombies, creaking as though it were a tree falling. Several loud, popping snaps erupted as the glass cracked in long, spindly fissures.
E
lated moaning and groaning from the zombie horde rose above the snaps and creaks of glass, their calls announcing to one another that sanctuary was at hand. Their calls became frenzied as they pushed against the faltering glass. Penelope recognized a few calls as something more insidious—hunger, and the sight of prey.
The glass snapped.
It fell forward, spilling the front line of zombies and a wash of snow into the terminal building. The frigid air poured in with the billowing snow. The second line of zombies pitched forward and toppled over the first, then a third line fell into the building as though some giant bulldozer shoved them all in.
“Which way is that roll up?” Hank asked.
“Brooks, get Larissa,” the Senator barked.
Penelope
dodged around O’Farrell to get to Larissa before Brooks tried to pick her up.
“Tom,” Hank called. “Help with the pilot.”
Carl was already running down the length of the terminal toward the ticketing counters, shouting for everyone to follow.
“Go on,” Hank said to everyone. He didn’t follow Carl. Instead, he drew his pistol and started sauntering toward the
dogpile of writhing zombies. Several were already on their feet, many crawling out from the pile on hands and knees. “I’ve got a surprise for these bastards.”
Tom and
Hamilton carried the pilot, his one arm hanging limply as though he may already be dead. Penelope lifted Larissa’s arms as Brooks hoisted her legs. She started to kick, but Penelope cooed into her ear to calm her down. Everyone moved down the length of the corridor as fast as they could. O’Farrell, Kennedy, and the Senator were already at the hole in the wall where Carl had led them.
Penelope watched Hank tug a flare out of his pocket. He looked back to see if everyone had cleared out and for a moment his eyes fell on Penelope. She and
Brooks were the last, struggling with Larissa even though Penelope tried to keep her calm. Hank grinned in her direction and winked as he pulled the cap off the flare. It hissed alive and he tossed it toward the horde, its red fire tipping end over end as it arced across the terminal. It whacked into the still intact glass above the huge, toppled sheet and fell into the snow that had spilled into the building.
“Fire in the hole
!” Hank called and ran to catch up with Penelope, ducking around the corner of the ticketing area just ahead of a resounding
boom
that shook the air.
“What the hell was that?”
Brooks yelled in shock.
“Flare grenade. Spreads little stars of light everywhere. Irritates zombie eyes, confuses them for a little while.”
They reached the others and Brooks let Larissa’s kicking legs go. Penelope put her down to try to soothe her.
“Even if we get outside, we’re sitting ducks,” Kennedy was arguing as
she followed the Senator, ducking her head through a hole in the wall where a defunct conveyor belt went through. She pushed aside heavy black flaps to get through.
“We’re sitting ducks
if we stay in here, Dani,” the Senator replied sourly, his voice echoing through the wall.
Tom backed through the hole, tugging the pilot with him.
He didn’t look at Penelope. He struggled too much with keeping the pilot off the ground, trying not to jostle him as he held the heavy black flaps aside with his back while manhandling the pilot through between his legs. Then Tom was gone. The other handler went through the hole after him, and it was Penelope’s turn to pull Larissa through.
She had no idea what lie beyond the hole
, which frightened her while at the same time reminded her how little she knew of the world. It made her angry at the hole more than anything. Tom went through without hesitation, unconcerned over the black flaps hanging down like arms, or teeth. He shrugged off their bulky weight with more effort than appeared necessary, making her wonder how heavy they might actually be, but determined nonetheless.
Larissa squirmed and groaned against the gag ball, her hazy eyes wide open and filled with fear. She reached her hands for the ball, wanting to yank it off, but Penelope grabbed her by the wrists. She leaned against the heavy flaps that separated her from the other side of the hole
. They were heavy, and thick. She tried to see through them, but everything beyond was too dark. She carefully put a leg through and felt for ground on the other side, took a deep breath, and hoped nothing bad waited for her on the other side.
“Where’s my daughter? Who has my daughter?” she heard the Senator bark.
“She’s coming,” Tom said.
A banging noise made
Penelope stop for a moment, fearing that something was about to fall on her. It sounded like metal hitting metal and it echoed from somewhere deeper inside the hole. She didn’t have time to think about it, though.
Penelope struggled with keeping Larissa from wiggling free as she pulled her thro
ugh. No amount of cooing or singing could counter the anxiety and urgency in everyone else’s voices. It only served to frighten Larissa. They spoke to one another sharply, barking orders or grumbling arguments.
Go. Wait. We should take the stairs. Where’s Brooks? What stairs? Those there. Stairs are a death trap.
Penelope’s grip on the
Larissa’s wrists remained fierce even as the girl began to flail wildly out of fear. Brooks held Larissa’s ankles, lifting the girl off the conveyor to push her through. The sudden movement knocked Penelope backwards and she let Larissa go to save herself from falling. Larissa folded and rolled into her cocoon, grabbing at the gag ball again.
Tom and several of the others used flashlights to see inside the luggage receiving
bay. The long conveyor ran the full length inside the wall the same way it did on the outside, making a giant loop at the far end of the terminal. Several empty luggage carts took up the wide open floor space, with two roll-up gates on the outside wall. The wall between them and the broken glass had rows of open lockers, their aged contents spilled out onto the ground from being ransacked. Several refrigerated storage rooms lined the outside wall, hiding other roll-up gates at the far end. The nearest roll-up gates were the only thing that kept them separated from the zombies outside, and through them they heard the banging of fists on the old aluminum panels. The only thing that separated them from the zombies
inside
the terminal was the wall of open lockers, and its one brown door.
“Carl? Where did he go? Which way?”
“He went down there,” Kennedy told Tom, waving toward the far end of the storage rooms. A peal of metal clanging on metal came from the same place. “He said these roll-ups are too close to the broken window.”
Penelope knelt beside Larissa and grabbed her wrists again to keep her from pulling at the gag ball.
“He said to wait here until he checked it out,” the Senator added.
Hank crawled through the hole.
“We’re about to have company,” he announced. “What are you all standing around for?”
“Carl,” Tom shouted. “
Quit making so much noise! We’re coming to you.”
“Hang on,” Carl’s voice echoed distantly. “Almost got it. Damn it!”
Clang, clang, clang!
The sound of metal striking metal continued to echo through the luggage bay. Penelope imagined Carl hitting the door frame with a pipe.
“No waiting,” Tom said, ushering
everyone to get going as he returned to the pilot to pick him up. “We need to move.”
“God damn it,” Carl shouted as he struck the door one last time with a thunderous
clong
.
“Carl?” the Senator called out.
The metal pipe clattered onto the ground.
“Yeah,” Carl called back angrily. “God damned lock. I’m going to shoot it.”
“Hang on,” Tom put in.
Blam
!
Penelope jumped at the sudden sound of gunfire. The noise rang in her ears a moment.
Blam!
Another shot was fired.
“Move,” Tom told everyone.
Kennedy didn’t need any more encouragement. She led the group with her flashlight pointing at the far end of the luggage bay. Her beam seemed focused on a sign with the symbol of stairs next to another brown door on the wall. Tom picked up the pilot again. The others began to make headway along the inner conveyor, with Hank waiting to take up the rear again. Penelope leaned down to sing into Larissa’s ear in the hopes of calming the girl, when she was startled by another sound.
A
thump
came from the brown door amidst the lockers, followed by another
thump
that echoed through the bay. Everyone stopped to look. The door burst open to let in a dismal gray light from outside. Blocking out most of the light was a pack of hungry, moaning zombies who stumbled over one another as they pushed through the portal.
“Jesus Christ,
” Hank shouted in surprise. “
That’s
the only unlocked door?”