8
A small group of thugs stood around a desk, intermittently pointing at a map. The map was old and beaten up, but it was clearly a map of the area between San Francisco and Pablo Bays, with a large inset of a detailed photo of Alcatraz
“What if we hit ‘em from the north?” one asked.
“No. No, they’ll see us coming for sure, and the hill is easily defensible,” Doc Murda replied. “From the west is where they’ll be looking all the time, back toward the city. The East is too far around to circle. It’ll have to be from the south. Also, I’m afraid, gentlemen, that the only way to do this is to attack by night.”
No one said a word.
“But…” one of the thugs started.
“I know. The creatures are much more active at night, and they don’t seem to need to see to find us as we do them. It’s been barely two days, and the city is dead, but if we want that island, and what’s on it,” this brought snickers and murmurs of assent from around the table, “then we need to surprise them. We will also need a few boats of moderate size to transport our little army.”
Doc Murda walked to the large windows of the warehouse and looked down at the docks, forty feet below. He stared hard at the docks and made a decision.
“There’s a tug boat down there that will work nicely. G, take Ratt. Pick three other soldiers and go clear that tug.”
“Cake,” said a self-assured looking tough. “Let’s go Ratt.”
A skinny black man with a pick in his huge afro suddenly looked terrified. “Doc, can’t we…”
“No, we can’t.” Murda stopped Ratt’s pleas before they could get started. “Pick three and leave immediately.” G shook his head and walked away. Ratt had seen Doc Murda’s rage when he was questioned, and knew better than to argue. Ratt turned on his heels and slunk after G.
9
“Hurry up Holmes, they comin’!” Ratt yelled.
A voice yelled back from the wheelhouse: “Cast off then, and I’ll get her runnin’ while we’re floatin’ away from the dock.”
Ratt and two of his cronies hurried to the port side of the large tug boat, the
Crowley
, and began to remove the heavy lines. Numerous dead were closing fast. The lines came off quickly, but the boat refused to budge.
The staccato chatter of sub-machine-gun fire made Ratt dive to the deck, covering his head with his hands. He peeked out from his hiding place behind a huge cleat.
“You gotta push us away, or we ain’t moving,” a calm voice told him. Ratt looked as one of his homies, Masta G, pointed the smoking barrel of an MP-5 past him and fired again.
“What?!? I aint gonna--”
“Then we’re all dead.” Masta G punctuated his statement with a third burst from the weapon.
Twenty or so dead were within thirty feet. “FUCK!” yelled Ratt and jumped over the side of the
Crowley
. He put his feet against the side of the dock and pushed on the tug with all his might. The great steel hull didn’t budge. “Ricky, help him,” G said to another man.
“Screw that, I ain’t--”
G pointed the MP-5 at Ricky, “Now.”
Ricky swallowed, but leapt over the side to help push. He took a potshot at one of the approaching dead and scored a lucky head shot. He stuck his automatic pistol in the front of his pants and mimicked Ratt’s motions. With both men were pushing, the tug began to inch away from the dock. Masta G stood on the edge of the deck and pointed his weapon down at both men. “Push until I tell you to stop.”
Beads of sweat from the men fell to the gray boards of the dock as they heaved. Ratt tried to turn and look, but G told him to keep pushing.
“Is they close?” Ratt begged.
“No,” G replied, and fired again.
“My fuckin’ ears, Holmes!” Ricky cried.
“They’ll be eating your ears if you don’t push.”
The boat was three feet from the dock when G raised his gun to fire again. One round was expelled, there was a click and the chamber remained open.
“OK, get on.” G dropped the sub-machine-gun and pulled dual semi-automatic pistols, firing intermittently into the growing horde.
Ricky turned, trying to pull his pistol, and it went off. He started screaming, blood pouring from his groin. A small hole had also blossomed in his right shoe. The pistol clattered to the dock, forgotten in his agony. The dead were also forgotten, as he dropped to the dock in a fetal position. Cupping his hands over his ruined testicles did nothing to stem the flow of blood.
Ratt jumped for the boat and grabbed the gunwale. He was trying to pull himself up when filthy hands grabbed his hair. “Help me man!” he pleaded to G.
G fired two rounds, and the dead woman holding on to Ratt’s enormous afro let go, and fell into the slice of water between the dock and the boat. Two more dead staggered off the edge of the dock and grabbed at Ratt as they plunged toward the inky waves. He lost his grip and all three hit the water with a considerable splash, sinking rapidly. Ratt did not re-surface.
During Ratt’s demise, the dead had reached Ricky, and had begun to dig in with gusto. His screams ceased when a dead woman reached into his mouth. She kept reaching until mid-forearm, then wrenched out something shredded and dripping, which she immediately shoved in her maw.
“Yuk,” said G as the boat’s engines roared to life. Black plumes of diesel smoke erupted from twin stacks as the boat lurched forward.
The dead nearest the edge of the dock were pushed off and into the water by the ones behind them. Some floundered for a second or two, but most sank like stones.
10
“You said there were lots down there. How did they get in?” Billy asked as he tried another key.
Ali launched into a long explanation: “They brought in a bunch of hurt people night before last. Some were bleeding. Not long after that, that damned pounding started at the front doors. Dr. Purkayastha and Gerry the security guy hurried the folks that were in front back here and locked the doors. Then one of the people freaked out and started attacking everyone. He grabbed me but then just let me go. He bit a few people before Gerry could shoot him. Doc opened the door to the level four wing, he said it was the most secure place to be. He came back out in a minute and noticed me. I was in one of the rooms over there,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating the corridor Billy had traversed previously. “The Doc came and got me, and then Gerry went back out front to get ammo or something. Then the doc locked me in this T junction, and went to let the pedophiles and neurotics out of their cells in the level three wing. Not long after that, the folks in the level four wing started screaming. I could hear them through the steel doors, trying to get out. They were locked in. There were at least 20 people down there, not counting the fours. The power went out about twenty minutes after that.”
“How do you know about the runner?”
“I looked through the windows,” she replied pointing above the door, “He saw me and came running.”
“How did…?” Billy began.
“I stood on the door handle.”
“Hmm. How about ten fingers then?”
She rolled her eyes, but laced her fingers together and lowered her hands. Billy stepped into her hands, and boosted himself up a little to look through the windows.
“It’s too dark, I can’t see any…”
The emergency floodlights came on right then, illuminating both the corridor they were in and the level four wing Billy was trying to peer into.
“Well this is creepy,” he said blinking. His eyes rapidly coming into focus.
There was blood everywhere.
The cells in this corridor were bigger than the cells in the other corridors Billy had come through, and each had a steel door set into a meter-wide, reinforced, heavy Lexan plastic wall with perfectly spaced two-inch holes at waist level. Billy couldn’t see into the cells. A small mob of creatures was banging on some of the plastic cell walls, attempting to get at the occupants within.
One of the things was more energetic, and was furiously tearing at the others around it, throwing them aside and clawing frantically at one of the plastic barriers. It had its fingers in the holes and was shaking the plastic with all its might to no avail. It raised its head skyward and screamed in frustration. It smashed its head forward in an attempt to bite the plastic, but was unable to get a grip with its teeth. As it gnashed its teeth, it turned briefly and saw Billy peeking through the mesh. They locked eyes for a moment, and the thing suddenly sprinted away from the group, pushing the slower ones out of its way. It came right at Billy, hands on its head, and when it was two feet from the door, it launched itself at the windows, bouncing off harmlessly.
“OK, there’s a runner.” Billy lowered himself down.
High pitched, inhuman screaming was discernible through the door along with frenzied clawing and hammering.
“I can take care of the runner, but you’ll have to open the door.”
“What about the others?” she asked nervously.
“They won’t touch us, but the runner will. As long as you were telling me the truth before. Open the door and pull it wide so that the runner sees me.”
She reached for the door.
“Not yet! Let me get back a little so I can shoot it when it comes for me.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Billy backed up and pulled the shotgun from his back. He jacked the pump, and a shell went flying. It landed with a clatter and rolled against the wall.
“Oops, that one wasn’t fired yet.”
Ali shook her head. “Ready?”
“Yeah, open her up.”
Ali used the key and unlocked the door with a
snick
. She grabbed the handle and breathed heavily. She looked at Billy expectantly, and he nodded in the affirmative.
“One, two, THREE!” she shouted, then depressed the handle’s button and yanked the door inward. The door was heavy, and she pulled it back to her so that it covered her, pinning her in the corner.
The thing immediately came barreling through the open doorway toward Billy, screaming as it ran. It got about five steps before it was blown back by the shotgun. It lay on its back for a moment gurgling, then it expired. There was infected blood all over the place, and the door that Ali had hidden behind was covered in it.
Billy rolled his eyes. “Brilliant. You can come out, but be careful, I spread his blood all over the place. Don’t get any on you.”
Ali pushed the door, only to have it pushed back open by the dozen or so milling dead that had followed the runner through. They staggered and lurched toward Billy, only to stop, once again, a few feet from him. Some ambled off, returning to pound on the glass in the other corridor, others remained near Billy in the T intersection.
“Do you think…”
Immediately upon hearing Ali’s voice, the dead turned as one and lurched at her, snarling and hissing when they got near. She screamed and ducked back behind the door, pulling with all her might. The dead, unfortunately, pulled as well, nearly ripping the door away from her. She was saved only because there were no good hand holds on that side of the door. Billy fired into them twice with the shotgun, destroying three of four and spreading gore everywhere. The dead from the cell block came stumbling back as well. Billy fired into the crowd, destroying another two, and the shogun went dry. He dropped the shotty and pulled his pistol. With careful aim, he dropped another four.
The last undead in the area, who was scratching at the door and reaching around trying to get a handful of Ali, was moaning frantically. Billy cracked it on the head with his pistol, and it let go, turning around. Billy shot it in the forehead and it crumpled to the ground.
Ali peeked out from behind the door and looked at Billy with wide eyes.
“Fibber.”
“No! I swear they didn’t come near me before!”
“Ok, let’s…” Billy didn’t get to finish his sentence before he was looking down the barrel of the pistol he had given to Ali. She fired and he felt the wind and heat of the bullet as the shot went over his shoulder.
“DOWN!” she bellowed as she took aim again. He ducked spinning, and saw a zombie fall to the ground. Ali fired again and a second creature took a round in the shoulder. Adjusting her aim, she destroyed it with another shot.
“Dude! Quit shooting past my ear, you’re gonna deafen me!”
“Sorry, they were coming.”
“What?”
“I said they were coming,” she said a little louder.
“Who’s a dummy?”
“I SAID….”
“I know I was just messing. They really won’t touch me though.”
“Didn’t look that way from here,” Ali said shaking her head, “those were reaching for you.”
“They were probably reaching for you, which brings us back to why. If they didn’t touch you before, why do they want a nibble now?”
The pair heard moans coming from the level four corridor. Billy poked his head through the door and noticed more dead coming.
“Willikers,” he said, and aimed his pistol.
After several seconds of shooting, there were none left walking. Billy re-loaded.
“Last clip.”
Ali nodded and breathed heavily. “Magazine. The meds are in a locked security room at the end of the corridor near the stairs.”
“I know. And I know about the clip-magazine thing too.”
He turned and walked into the level four wing. There was blood on everything, with bloody hand and fist smears on some of the plastic walls. The first few cells were empty, but the third on the left held a lone occupant. She was on her hands and knees vomiting, and she looked up at Billy as he looked in at her. The woman was a mess, with several bite marks and dozens of scratches. Fat tears of blood were dropping from her face to the floor. She stood and pressed her bloody palms to the glass.
“I made it in here and shut the door, but not before my husband bit me,” she said wiping her mouth, and she sat down on a messy bunk. “Leave me.”
Billy and Ali moved on. The only other cell with an occupant was the fifth and last cell on the left. As Billy looked in the cell he gave a low whistle. The occupant was a man of average height and weight and indeterminate age. He stood with his arms folded looking directly at Billy.
“Hello William.”
“Hello Cyrus. Been a while.”
“Indeed. Who is your endearing comrade?”
“I would rather not talk about her Cyrus if that’s ok with you.”
The man raised his left eyebrow. “It is not, in fact, ok with me. Tell me her name please.”
“My name is Alison,” Ali chimed.
“You see William? Moments of courtesy are the reason our species is the dominant one on the planet.”
“Been outside lately, Cyrus? You might want to re-think that dominant thing.”
“Touché. William, I must demand a moment of charity from you. It would seem that in the chaos ensuing from whatever is happening, I have been forgotten here. This is unacceptable. I would consider it a great act of kindness if you would open this cell.”
“Uhhh… no can do there, chief.”
“William, it is hardly…”
“No way, Cyrus. Period. I’ll find a way to get you out, but not until I know we’re safe.”
“You destroyed the infected in here, William. There are none left, and we are perfectly safe inside this wing.”
“Cyrus, I was talking about me and her being safe from you.”
“I see. My apologies Alison, but William is under the false impression that I would harm you. I’ve used… poor judgment in the past concerning the lives of others.”
“Poor judgment! He killed and sliced up six people! There was evidence of cannibalism too! He even…”
Cyrus interrupted, “You try my patience, William. Alison, while my proclivities may lean toward the… macabre... the accusations of cannibalism were unfounded, I assure you.”
Ali looked scared.
“Whatever man,” Billy said, “if I can figure out a way to let you out when we’re safe, then you’re good. We’ll be back soon, I gotta medicate.”
“One last plea, William?”
“No!” Billy grabbed Ali by the hand and moved further down the hall. “Guy’s nuts, ya know?”
They moved up a small staircase to a semi-circle shaped, reinforced glass booth. The booth overlooked the level four corridor. The heavy steel door was locked, but Billy used his key ring, and they had the door open in under a minute. Inside were monitors for the cameras in each of the level four cells, as well as cameras for all the corridors in the hospital. Cyrus was standing in his cell with his arms still folded, staring at the camera. The infected woman was lying on her side in a fetal position, retching. No movement was captured by the cameras in most of the corridors, but the level two wing contained a few shambling creatures.
There were numbered red buttons on a panel, corresponding to the cell numbers. Release mechanisms for the cell doors. Billy’s hand hovered briefly over the number five cell button, but he moved his hand away quickly, and turned toward what they had come for.
Also in the small room was a huge, white locker. This too was locked, but this time none of the keys worked.
“Back up,” Billy told Ali.
She did so, and he aimed the pistol at the locker. The shot was loud in the enclosed area, but the door jumped and swung open, the lock destroyed.
The reward was shelves of ampoules and pill bottles, with plastic-sealed syringes on hooks on one of the doors.
“Things are looking up!”