Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine (35 page)

‘Scatman’ motioned his people back.
“Get back, boys,” he then said for those who didn’t seem to understand basic
hand gestures. The lovely Latina stayed by his side.

Boomer and Joel kept their guns
trained on the two largest groups. Most of those gathered wore matching
bandanas, hats and or tattoos and were clearly young street thugs and gang members,
but they remained under the orders of the old man without question, for now at
least. The day before they had been real badasses. When faced with
zombies,
however,
many of them had been unable to cope on their own and went looking
for help from more experienced people. Yesterday they would have probably
laughed him down and passed his war stories of death, murder, blood and fire
off as crazy talk from a stupid, crazy old man who’d probably spent the entire
war in the clerk’s office. They would have been wrong. This was a war. It was a
war for their very survival against dead guys who ate people. It was dirty and
disgusting and scary and few understood what was going on. Oddly enough, that’s
just the kind of war this old guy new how to fight.

I bet it only took his first
kill to show most of these guys this old man knows his way around the paddies
of Southeast Asia,
Calvin thought
.

Stepping out of the Hedgehog with
his rifle slung safely over his shoulder, along with all three axes, he sized
up his counterpart. For his part, the old man returned his appraising gaze for
an uncomfortably long time, evaluating him as he undoubtedly had many a new
officer back in the jungle: Friend or Frag?

“So…Calvin Hobbes? Like the crazy
kid with the tiger?” the old man asked.

“My mom was a fan,” he replied with
a nod. “She called him
imaginative
.”

“Well, Mr. Calvin Hobbes. Armor,
axes and a machine gun…yes, sir…” he turned his head and shouted behind at one
of the retreating backs. “And you fools wanted to try and take their stuff?”

He turned back to Calvin and
extended an aging hand, which Calvin took in one armored fist and shook firmly.

“My name is Rufus Dawes Stevens,”
he emphasized every name as if it were the most important. “And this here,” he
indicated the pretty Latina at his side who was currently glaring at them and fondly
fingering the stock of her AK-47. “This is Beulah Eunice Sweeting—”

“—Sweets,” the girl growled
quickly.

“Poor girl. Orphaned in South America and adopted by missionaries. Hates her own name, can you believe that?” he
seemed to run out of things to say at that point and paused with one hand in
the air pointing at the girl. He lowered the hand and looked at Calvin with
tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Look. I’m real sorry we shot you
with a rocket.” He said simply.

“My ears are still ringing,” Calvin
complained, talking to keep the conversation going. They might need coordinated
allies and this group seemed ahead of the curve.

“If G-dog hadn’t aimed so well and
hit right next to you,” the old man explained with a laugh. “It would be more
than your ears that would be ringing, Mr. Calvin. Your whole head would be
ringing as it rolled around the inside that big jeep.”

“Yeah. That was too close. I’d hate
to get killed by good, live people when there are so many dead guys running
around trying to take us out.”

A very large African-American in
beige khakis and a leather Chiefs Jacket stepped forward, hanging his head.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Calvin,” he mumbled.

“Oh we all sorry,” Rufus added,
finding some of his earlier energy, eyes lighting up again. “Hell, we all jus’
sorry as hell. But we all trying to survive this…this…whatever the hell
this
is. What the hell happened? This was s’posed to be the best day in Kansas City history out there today. And now we all running ‘round talkin’ ‘bout shootin’
other folk and takin’ what they got so we can dig in somewhere ‘til the
government comes in to help out or burns us all to hell. We sorry, but what the
hell is going down?” The burning inquiry in the man’s eyes asked better than
any words ever could, but he seemed to have done a pretty good job in Calvin’s
mind.

“That’s ok. I get it,” Scooter
shrugged off the assault as if it had merely been some random, mistaken
hand-waving incident or a wrong number butt-dial.

“We just wanted to take a few official
prisoners to find out what the hell is going on. TV’s blank. Nothin’ on the radios
but pre-recorded music or dead air. It’s like nobody is payin’ attention no more
but we in just the place that needs the most attention.”

“I agree. I have no idea what’s
happening outside the city. And I only know what’s going on here because we’ve
been out in it all day.”

“All day? Once that first sick man
tried to take a bite out of me, I went and hid out in my house with Lucinda
here,” he pointed to the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I was tryin’ to make
some kind of sense out of the way things had gone down. But then these fools
began runnin’ around shootin’ things up, so I went outside and spent a few
hours explainin’ to the boys how we gonna do it.”

“I didn’t have that kind of time,
sir. I’ve been running around collecting people from the start. My friends were
spread out all over downtown. We’re still doing that.”

“You were outside when it started?”

“Yes. I was at the Ren Fest,
though.”

“Whazzat now?”

“The Rennaissance Festival.”

“Is that so? Always wanted to check
that out. But ain’t that over the border?”

“Yes, sir,” Calvin answered.

“What’d you come down here for,
then? Things were getting’ outta control.”

“Some of our friends were stuck
down here, and we were in a unique position, having adequate resources to
rescue them.”

“Would that unique position and
adequate resources be old-time armor and swords just fifteen minutes from
downtown?”

“Rufus, you seem to know how to get
right to the center of an issue.”

“Cept this issue, Mr. Calvin. This
one’s a head-scratcher and that’s for damn sure. Like it was brought down on a
bolt of lightning, only there weren’t no lightning, except maybe in just how
fast this thing takes. Less than a minute in most cases. And we ain’t got no
idea how the hell it started or how to put it to end.”

“Well, sir. I can help a bit with
that,” Calvin said hesitantly, trying to carefully choose what he told the man.
But they needed to know. “The first part, anyway.”

“Is that so?” Rufus asked, tilting
his head back and waiting.

“We’re wasting time here,” Brick
mumbled over the mic.

“Yes, sir. We know that it might
have been started by a virus,” Calvin explained.

“Is that so?” Rufus asked, tilting
his head to the side.

“This stupid old bastard doesn’t
need to know anything,” Brick whispered.

 “Jesus, why don’t you just call
him a nigger and be done with it, Brick?” Boomer whispered.

“I’m just saying he doesn’t need to
know our business,” Brick shot back. “Don’t turn everything into a God damned race
war.”

“Just shut up, Brick,” Tripper
snapped so Calvin wouldn’t have to.

“It was brought in on a plane,”
Calvin continued unfazed. “But it mixed with something here in town,
apparently. They don’t know how it progressed so quickly.”

“We-ell, seems like you know a lot,
Mr. Calvin,” Rufus tilted his head to the other side. ”I’m curious who this
they
is you talking about.”

“Friend of mine was right there
when it started. Government plane crash with doctors and guards and the like. One
of the doctors told him how it happened.”

“Your friend still alive?” Rufus
asked.

“Yeah. That’s him right there,” he
pointed at Tripper on the other side of the hood.

Tripper waved and sent the old man
a broad smile.

“Well ‘nuff to be wearin’ armor and
sportin’ a rifle,” Rufus scratched his chin.

“And the other one?”

“The doctor seemed fine too.”

“Why don’t you give him our address
and the security codes to the building, too,” Brick hissed. “Hey. Let’s bring
them some fried chicken and watermelon and have ourselves a block party.”

“God damnit. Shut the fuck up,
Brick,” Boomer hissed.

“Now
that
was racist,” Brick
replied nastily. “You see the difference?”

“Hmm. Affects some people, but not
a doctor who was right there? Seems like he already had a cure for it for
himself,” Rufus noted thoughtfully.

“Maybe, but he seemed pretty
scared…according to my friend,” Calvin lied. Give them too much information and
old Rufus might decide they should take everything after all, and maybe force the
group to take them to the doctor.

“Ooh, yes, you know an aw-ful lot,
Mr. Calvin,” the man eyed him with a growing suspicion.

“Let’s get out of here, Scooter,”
Brick demanded.

“I’m not saying it again, Brick!
Shut the fuck up!” Tripper hissed, trying not to move his lips too much.

“Gonna have to shoot them all
eventually,” Brick added.

Trip looked into the sky and shook
his head in resignation. Turning quickly, he rounded the Hummer, ripped open
the passenger door and stuck his rifle in Brick’s face. Brick could see that the
safety was off and a shaking finger was already on the trigger. He decided
shutting up might be the best option for now.

“We get around,” Scooter explained
casually, looking back and frowning at the vehicle, wondering why Trip had
disappeared and wishing Brick would shut the hell up.

Rufus looked him over again, examining
his armor and weapons with an appreciative eye. “Does that stuff actually
work?” he pointed at the chain mail.

“It allows me to get in very close
without worrying about a bite,” Calvin said proudly pulling out one of his axes
and giving it a few warm-up swings. “And the axes do get the job done. It can
get a bit messy, though. Pretty disgusting, actually. But my friend already had
these shaped plastic face shields made for another purpose. They keep the goo
out of our eyes and mouths.”

“This mess does seem to be the business
for old weapons,” Rufus noted.

The Latina and the men behind Rufus
began shuffling their weapons and their feet nervously, so Calvin handed the
axe to Rufus so the old man could look it over. Brick bit back a response, but
they could hear his displeasure in the annoyed sigh he blew dramatically. Rufus
nodded his head after the inspection and handed the weapon back to Calvin, who
quickly placed the axe back in its sheath and planted his fists firmly on his
hips in his most unthreatening manner. Rufus rubbed his chin in deep
contemplation. Eventually he waved the other men back to their watch positions,
but leaned in closer, out of hearing of everyone else.

“You got a Ham, Mr. Calvin?”

“We don’t have any food on us, sir.
But we can bring some through on our next pass if you need,” Calvin offered.

The man laughed.

“Thanks for the offer. We might
take you up on it sometime in the future, but we’re stocked for now. I don’t
mean food, Mr. Calvin. I’m talkin’ ‘bout communication. For emergencies like
this.”

“Radio?” Calvin asked.

The man nodded.

“Yes, we have a few. And some other
com equipment.”

“Here. Take this,” he handed Calvin
a small square of ripped yellow legal pad.

“I don’t know anything about the
radio, really,” Calvin handed the paper back.

“No, sir. Give it to your man.
He’ll know what to do with it. Might pay to stay in touch…leastwise as long as
we all still alive. Government seems to be blocking most signals, but we’ve
reached a few on that frequency there. And maybe you could send us more
information if you was to get any?”

Calvin paused only a few seconds
before nodding. “Good point. And we might need every hand we can get on a gun
at some point. Or I might be able to send you some government men to talk to,”
he grinned evilly.

“Hah. You see any, you send ‘em my
way, young Mr. Calvin.”

Tripper called from his new spot in
the passenger seat of the Hedgehog. He was feeling a little pissed off
following Brick’s stupidity. “Hey Rufus! We’re going to be coming back through
here in fifteen minutes or so from the other way, and maybe a few more times
tomorrow. Any chance you might not shoot us next time?”

The old man laughed a rough, raucous
bellow.

“We won’t make that mistake again,”
he said loudly for the ears of the individuals in the vehicle and to the man
with the rocket. “We don’t wanna waste no more ammo than we have to. I think
we’ll remember your vehicles. We’ll make sure we got the right target next
time.”

“If we can, we’ll put a big red KC
Arrowhead on the hood so you know it’s us in the future,” Trip called back.

“Good enough. Good enough.”

“You take care, Rufus,” Calvin
shook his hand again.

“Stay safe, Mr. Calvin. You take
care of yours.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be waiting for word on how to
get out of this mess,” the old man waved back.

Calvin nodded and climbed into the
back of the Hummer  and noticed he was now sitting across from Brick. He looked
to Tripper, who grinned from the passenger seat next to Felicia and still held
his rifle trained at Brick, but lowered it as the vehicle began moving. The
Infection had been going for only a half a day and already one of his people
was beginning to crack. The heavy hand he had felt around his heart all day
squeezed a little tighter. His friends seemed to be taking sides against one of
their own and Calvin was no longer so sure they were wrong to do so.

Word on how to get out of this
mess…Hell, Rufus…I’ll be waiting for the same damn thing.

They drove on, the Paddy Wagon moving
up to within two car-lengths again at Calvin’s urging.

 “Next block, guys,” Calvin advised
his friends.

“Shit!” Felicia hissed in surprise.

Following a heavy bang several
bodies rolled onto the hood and smashed into the flat windshield when she
whipped around the corner. Swerving to avoid a crowd of Infected, the Hedgehog
nearly tipped for the second time in the same hour as they rolled up over a
stack of moving corpses and onto the hood of a burned out ‘79 corvette before she
could get stopped.

“Oops,” she apologized lamely.

Gus stopped next to them and Scaggs
looked over from the dark ambulance and gave her a ‘what the hell’ shake of her
red head. Fe shrugged and grimaced in return. Gently putting the automatic into
reverse, she backed down the hood of the vehicle and over the group of zombies
that had stumbled in behind them, snapping legs and crushing bodies as they
fell under the rugged wheels of the heavy custom vehicle. Fighting the urge to
vomit yet again, she drove on past the burned-out classic sports car.

“It’s just up there,” Tripper
pointed. “That small fake tower thing.”

“Hey, yeah. We were there
yesterday,” Scaggs called out.

“I wasn’t impressed,” Felicia
scoffed. “I’m not a big coffee drinker.”

“Of course not, you’re naturally
wired,” her friend called back. “It was awesome.”

The turrets opened up and soon
there was a fifty foot radius around the vehicles, then one-hundred. Both
vehicles initially pulled up in front of the coffee shop nearly bumper to
bumper, but Gus whipped around and backed up to the coffee shop while Felicia
turned the front of the Hedgehog towards the building, ready to cover the group
going in, cover the streets, and still be able to pull out and follow The Wagon
at a moment’s notice. Calvin noticed this and made a mental note to keep
Felicia behind the wheel whenever possible. He stepped out of the back and
brought an axe up into each hand with one simultaneous movement.

“Welcome to The Country Club Plaza.” He announced casually.

“Is it still called that?” Tripper
asked.

“I think so.”

“I always just call it the Plaza.”

“Me too,” Gus added.

“Isn’t it the Barney Allis Plaza?” Joel asked.

“That’s another place, at 12
^th
and Wyandotte,” Calvin explained. “This is the Country Club Plaza.”

“Does it really matter what—”

“—there they are!” he heard Lola
scream from somewhere above.

Calvin’s helm was open because of
the 100 foot perimeter, so the girls could see his round face beaming from
within its depths. He didn’t have to search because Lola’s pink torso hung
halfway out of a window up in the tower-thing that signified the beginning of The
Plaza. He’d always felt there should be bells up there. Maybe there were and
they’d just never used them. He didn’t know.

“Calvin!” she shouted down, waving
furiously.

Calvin waved up to her with a broad
grin. “Don’t go anywhere!” he shouted. “We’ll come and get you after we clear
the area!”

“What?” she screamed down.
“Nevermind. I’m coming!”

“No!” Calvin yelled back, but she
was already gone from the window.

“Shit.” He and Trip said at the
same time.

Trip sat closest to the building,
but by the time he was out of the car Calvin was already beside him, both
dashing towards the double glass doors of the coffee shop. Surprisingly, Brick
was only a half-step behind, in dark leather armor with a big claymore-like
two-handed sword clutched in both well-tanned hands. Following a brief pause
and quicker prayers, the group burst through the doors with one light kick that
threw Tripper completely off-balance. The double doors opened inward and hadn’t
been firmly shut, so his kick blasted the doors with ten times more power than was
necessary. Brick half-screamed, half-yelled and swung his big sword over-handed
into the nearest of a dozen zombies on the right. The big sword slammed down
through the skull of the six-foot ex-chiefs fan, ripping it in half down to the
lower torso. Blood, brain and guts spilled onto the floor, but Brick didn’t
have time to think about it as a fat black woman hissed and leaped at him before
he could take a breath.

Maybe Trip pointing the gun at
him did some good after all,
Calvin’s mind wondered in the split second
before he and Trip dove at a group of very lively zombies.

“Calvin!” Trip shouted as he swung
his trusty baseball bat defensively at two of the Infected. The first one
ducked and put its arm up almost as a real opponent would. “They’re fast ones!
Swifties.”

 “I know!” Calvin replied. “Mine
too.” After the first of his targets had jumped back from his axe, he had
quickly adjusted his tactics for live people and altered his swings
accordingly, dispatching both of his own attackers with simultaneous downward
thrusts that ended at the neck. In two short breaths he was already beheading one
of Tripper’s and a quick chop split the skull of another one lunging for
Tripper’s back. With a shared sigh of relief, the pair ran for two growling
Swifties that were darting for Brick’s back. Calvin almost pulled Tripper up
short, but decided against it. Brick deserved a fair evaluation. All he had for
now was a lot of hearsay and a bad attitude. He couldn’t blame anyone for being
a little aggravated. And these things probably weren’t dangerous enough to kill
even the out-of-it Brick; they would be little danger to the Claymore wielding
warrior they were seeing now.

“They might move a bit faster,” he
said to Trip as he tossed an axe into the back of an old dead man’s skull. “But
they’re still not real bright,” he finished as the body hit the floor with a
meaty thump.

Brick turned to them and grinned a
wicked, half-frenzied ‘Joker’ face. “This isn’t so bad after all!” he laughed
with glee.

“Calvin!” Lola screamed, also with
glee.

She waved at them from the back
door and started to run to them, but stopped, losing at least half of her joy at
seeing Brick standing with them grinning like a madman. Then she screamed as a
body jumped from the floor and sprang at her. She only had time to grasp its
arms in her own before it was on her like a bad date, forcing her down, invading
her personal space with gnashing jaws and hungry eyes.

Calvin had a perfect under-handed angle
and let fly. His other axe chunked into its skull and the entire body was forcibly
thrown from her and into the wall, the axe pinning the zombie to the sheetrock,
leaving the body to dangle limply, jerking occasionally as whatever passed for
kinetic energy drained from the re-corpsifying body.

Lola fell back onto the floor,
relieved. But then there was Brick’s smiling face—in her mind, a sick,
perverted devil’s mask of hate hovering over her, ready to take her soul. She
screamed again and her eyes rolled back into her head trying to escape the terror
of the situation.

Calvin pulled his first thrown axe
from the zombie on the floor as Brick tossed him the other one. He caught it
smoothly and walked to the back of the shop and paused at the back door, hand
on handle. “You got her?” he yelled to Brick over the sound of some
guitar-heavy Indie Pop pouring out of some unseen speakers

How did we not even notice that?
He wondered.

“I got her,” Brick spat back.

They still had to save Lucy. Calvin
nodded for Trip to check behind the connecting door to the neighboring shop before
dashing through the door and into the long back hallway that serviced the entire
business strip.

After Tripper disappeared through
the other door, Brick leaned down and began whispering to the nearly-comatose
Lola. Eventually her eyes shot open again and grew wide with fear and revulsion,
but he held her tightly in his strong arms and held her eyes with his own
fevered gaze. He whispered some more and she screamed again and kicked again
and again. Eventually she somehow managed to wriggle free from his vice-like
grip and run for the back door, screaming for Calvin. Sapphire eyes blazing, Brick
gripped his sword in both hands and estimated the range and power he’d need to
bury it in her back, but at that moment the far door opened and Trip re-entered
the shop.

Though he wasn’t looking in their direction,
Brick couldn’t chance getting caught doing something like that just yet. Maybe
if he were to get to her body first, he could cut her and say she’d been bitten
or something, but he didn’t have time for a cover-up. He slowly rose and calmly
walked after the fleeing woman.

“Lola! Come back!” he called
innocently.

Calvin half-jogged down the empty off-white
brick hallway. The Service Hallway ran behind and behind all of the businesses
in the strip. Every business had a blue access door that opened into the
hallway. He progressed slowly, checking doors as he went to ensure they were
locked or at least closed firmly and that he couldn’t hear live people behind
them. He reached the steel fence holding the door to the locked tower and found
it open.
Shit. Lola didn’t make sure it shut right.
Dark, coagulated
bloody hand prints marked the rail at regular intervals all the way up and two
smears of fresh blood marked the wall at the top.
Zombies that use the
rails?
he wondered.

Bolting up the stairs two at a time,
he reached the top step with a grunt of success that was drowned-out by a long,
piercing, blood-curdling scream that made the invisible hand on his heart
release and drop down to squeeze his bladder.

He had seen many horror movies with
Lucy and knew that scream better than any other. It had long been a joke among
the group that she should be a star in horror movies, or at least lend her
voice for the screams. “Hang on, Lucy!” he screamed back.

“Calvin!” she let out another award
winning wail.

“Lucy!” he yelled and charged into
the little observation room with both axes at the ready, only to find the pretty
young Asian standing over a dead stalker, one dainty fist holding a five inch
heel dripping with gore, exotic almond eyes flashing a strength Scooter had
never seen before.

“My hero,” she grumbled dryly,
dropping the bloody heel in disgust.

“Hey, I was coming to save you…but
it looks like you got it.”

“Where’s Lola?” she asked with a
scowl of concern.

“She’s with Brick.”

“Oh no.” she hissed, hobbled past
Calvin on her one good heal.

“Calvin!” Lola screamed,
desperately searching for the only man who’d ever been good to her. She would
tell him about everything. She would tell him about his supposed friend and how
sorry she was and he would fix everything. She ran through the back halls of
the little business plaza to the stairs leading up into the tower.

“Calvin!” Lola screamed. But no one
came out from any of the doors on the way to the stairs. She looked up through
the fenced-in stairway, but no one came.
No.
she thought.
He would
already be coming down with Lucy if he went up there. He must have gone further
down this hall to make sure it’s safe.
A sound drew her eyes to a door to
one of the other businesses just past the iron stairs. It sounded like someone
said her name.

Ah, there he is.
She rushed
over with a beaming smile, gleefully grabbed the handle and happily pulled the
door open. “Calvin, I have to tell you—” she started to say.

Calvin called from above through
the steel fence that closed in the stairs, Lucy at his side. “—Lola, no!” he tried
to reach down the twenty or so stairs through the safety fence with his mind.

Time slowed to a crawl as the half-open
door ripped from her grasp and the Swiftie inside leaped onto her upper torso,
slamming her into the far wall. Before Calvin or the approaching Brick could
make a move, the growling beast was digging its fingers into her shoulders and
sinking its teeth into her neck, ripping a huge chunk of flesh, swallowing
without chewing, and taking another bite and then another. Lola screamed for
help as a crimson spray of her own blood painted the far wall.

Lucy screamed from the top of the
stairs and dropped to her knees as Calvin charged past and descended the stairs
two at a time.

“Lola!” Calvin and Lucy screamed
together.

“Oh God!” Lola held a hand up to where
Lucy sat screaming, her mind begging for this not to be happening.

“Calvin!” she called just as his
axe and Brick’s sword met in the middle of the feeding creature’s skull with a
muted clang.

The fingers of another Swiftie
gripped the door, holding it open, and Brick darted after it with wide swings
of the massive sword, forcing it back into the shadows from which it attacked. Calvin
caught Lola’s weakening body as it slid down the wall, leaving behind a trail of
smeared crimson that painted a morbid impression of some half-finished Surrealist’s
canvas. Blood pumped between his armored fingers from a punctured artery even
as he fought to find a pressure point to stop it, knowing it was already too
late.

“Calvin. I need to…to…tell you
something,” she gurgled. Having lost an incredible amount of blood in so little
time, she was already fading out. “…so sorry…”she gurgled quietly.

Calvin held her, visor up, watering
eyes holding her own.

“He’s…not…what you think,” she
whispered.

“Who isn’t?” he asked.

“I have to tell you, Calvin.” she
looked up and drifted off.

Brick was standing over them. She
looked scared for a minute, but then her eyes found Calvin and suddenly she lit
with some inner strength. “You have to know what he did…oh no…” she took a big
racking breath and the strength faded away. She looked on Calvin with an
adoring, serene, almost motherly expression. “I always loved you Calvin,” she whispered
and closed her eyes.

He didn’t have to check for a
pulse, but he did. “She’s dead,” he breathed quietly. Before he could process
her death, Brick’s sword was shooting before his eyes, through her skull and
into the wall behind with a thick sounding butcher’s chunk. “What the fuck,
man!” Scooter screamed and jumped back, brandishing one of his axes.