Drink in case of Emergency (23 page)

“I’m not whimpering.” Jessica mumbled in response, reaching out one shaky hand toward the pistol.

“Well today, you become a woman.” Amy coached Jessica through how to hold the pistol in both hands, to disengage the safety and to prepare for the kick. Hands shaking, Jessica pulled the trigger, aiming for the relative area of the zombie’s head.

The first bullet sailed wide right, connecting with a mannequin at the front of the store. “It’s okay, Amy reached her arms around Jessica, holding the gun in her hands as well. The position vaguely reminded Jessica of when she was a teenager, and Brian Rowley had taken her on a date to go mini golfing and had tried a similar move, just to ‘show her how to move her hips when she swung.’ It was mildly erotic, having Amy’s arms around her, and Jessica didn’t hate it. She noticed that Amy smelled a little bit like cinnamon. With Amy’s hands to steady her, she squeezed the trigger gently, and the bullet found it’s mark in the forehead of the zombie.

Jessica felt a little rush of power as the zombie’s head snapped back, and then followed it’s body to crumple onto the floor, purple blood oozing out of the two new holes in the front and back of his head. The rush of control that Jessica felt continued. This wasn’t bad. She could do this. They weren’t alive anymore, anyway. She wasn’t killing a living thing.

With the rush of endorphins, Jessica felt as if her brain was running on overdrive, she noticed things that she hadn’t previously seen around her. The rich grain of the hardwood floors, the terribly tacky recessed lighting, the fact that the mannequins had belly buttons for some reason. As all of this information flooded her senses, she lost track of time for a moment. Suddenly Amy was across the room, past the dead zombie and getting ready to jump back out of the front window. She turned back to Jessica, still standing dazed, holding the pistol at her side.

“You okay? I saw a couple of other stores down the block that I still wanted to check out. Then we can start making our way to meet up with the guys, unless you just wanted to ditch ‘em.”

Jessica was snapped out of her daze. “Oh, yeah. Sure. We can check out a few more stores first. She made her way out of the store, stepping carefully over the crumpled corpse of the zombie that she had shot through the head. Her first kill. This thought brought her back to her childhood. Watching her brothers go out hunting for the first time with dad. It was always such a big deal, she had always wanted to go, but her mom didn’t want her playing with guns. Now she understood why. Because guns were fun, they made you feel sexy, and her mom really was a prude.

Amy had gotten a headstart out of the window, and Jessica saw that she had turned right when her feet hit the pavement. Jessica jumped out and turned in the same direction. Her heart skipped a beat when Amy was gone.

The wave of confidence she had just found in her first kill was suddenly gone. She heard her voice sheepishly call out, “Amy? This isn’t funny.” She looked around, saw a few zombies down the block, but nothing close enough to be worried about. No close zombies, but no Amy either.

Jessica had walked a half dozen timid steps in the direction she had seen Amy turn. She had just come alongside an alley when she saw movement out of her peripheral vision. Jessica turned to see Amy struggling with two men. By the looks of how they moved, they weren’t zombies. Both men wore expensive suits, and some part of Jessica’s brain which was not concerned with the emergency of the situation was deciding if the jackets they picked were a size too small or the pants were a size too big. One was holding a hand over Amy’s mouth had a fedora hat on. The other, who was wearing an obnoxious gold chain, was struggling to pull her pistol away. Jessica felt panic rising, and she heard herself scream, in the same sheepish voice that had called out for Amy all of fifteen seconds ago. “Let her go. Or I’ll shoot!”

Jessica held up the pistol, her hand and arm were shaking so much, it would have looked comical if it had been under any other circumstances. Her voice caught the attention of Amy’s attackers, but her wild swinging gun-hand seemed to keep them feeling confident. Mr. Gold Chain had finally wrestled the gun away from Amy’s grip, but she continued struggling. She was able to get her mouth free from Mr. Fedora’s grasp for a moment, to shout “Run” before Mr. Fedora got his hand back over her mouth. Jessica’s attention was drawn in by Mr. Gold Chain though.

She saw that he had black hair that was at least a month overdue for a haircut, and he held it slicked back with oil, or some other disgusting hair product. He was a few days overdue for a shave as well, as his jaw and cheeks were peppered with black and gray stubble. His skin had a pale look to it, so much so that she would have mistook him for a zombie if he had been moving like one. He was twenty feet away and Jessica could smell the gin on him, like dirty pine sol. His eyes were small and dark, and for a moment Jessica thought that he looked remarkably like a rat, a drowned rat in a poor fitting suit. He locked eyes with her and licked his lips, which Jessica saw, even at this distance, were incredibly chapped. Jessica wasn’t sure if it was a nervous twitch or he was attempting to be as creepy as humanly possible.

“Heyyyy there missy. You’re still alive.” He didn’t make a move to put his hands up. In fact, Jessica noticed that he had shifted Amy’s pistol into his right hand, and looked as though he was ready to raise it at any moment. “We should all stick together. We’re alive, you’re alive. Two girls for two guys. How about you put down the gun and we can talk about re-populating the planet?” His tongue flicked out again, licking his cracked lips, which curved into a painful looking smile. The smile didn’t reach Mr. Gold Chain’s eyes, which were locked on Jessica’s gun, which meant they were moving all over the place.

Jessica tried to remember the zombie she just shot, tried to reconnect with that feeling of power and control she just experienced. Could she do it again? She imagined what it would be like, aiming the gun between those beady little eyes and pulling the trigger. She could see his eyes roll up and hear a scream of agony as he died. Then the blood would come. Red, wet, sticky. She couldn’t do it. Not a living person. Not even someone like this.

Mr. Gold Chain, whose actual name is Greg, although that’s not here nor there, saw this internal struggle happen behind Jessica’s eyes. He could see her look away with dejection on her face. He knew that look. He had seen it on dozens of victims throughout the years, she had given up. Feeling his own confidence swell, Greg turned back to check on Mr. Fedora, who’s name was actually Richard, although he preferred Rick. Rick was still struggling with the shorter girl. She had a lot of fight in her. That might last a night, maybe two, depending on whether or not Rick got really rough with her.

He turned back and saw that his instinct had been correct. The taller, awkward girl was lowering the gun, tears beginning to stream down her face. The smile on his face crept up toward his eyes now. This new world was going to be so much fun. Greg made a mental note to remember to congratulate Rick on the idea to come downtown to see if any women had survived. Licking his lips again, Greg spoke to the crying girl. “That’s a dear, now how about you give that big scary gun to the big man so he can protect you.

Greg took a step forward, paused, waiting to see how she would respond. He was pretty sure she was about to run for it. If that was the case, he could try to chase her, or he could always just make Rick share his girl. One girl should be more than enough for two close friends, right?

Greg took a second step, still waiting for the girl to run. She didn’t. He felt a surge of excitement in his chest, as well as a place a foot and a half lower, excitement both for what was about to happen for him, as well as a really positive outlook for what this world would have in store from him.

“That’s a good girl. You let ol’ Greg take care of you now.” Licking his lips one more time, Greg took another step.

****

The small plaque by the stairwell door read “Floor 68” as the four friends stopped their long climb to take a quick break. The bottle of whiskey they had polished off on the way up did nothing to help their fitness, not that anyone had expected it to. Scott remembered that he had read once about an annual race that occurred in this very stairwell. People actually paid to race up 108 stories, for what reason, although Scott had no idea why.

Being just over halfway up, they had been walking stairs for the better part of an hour. They had already taken two breaks prior to this one. First, because Justin was sure he was going to barf, which he didn’t. The second break was because Chris claimed he had to take a shit, which he did. Justin went with him, as they decided even with liquor protection and firearms, it would still be wise to travel in pairs. Based on the look on Justin’s face when they returned, that particular 47th story bathroom had a powerful aromatic addition to it.

Tyler was finishing off the second bottle of water he had brought with him as they took their break. “Whew. I thought finding Charlie’s house was a bit of a hassle, but that doesn’t even compare to what you’ve got us doing for your zombie bucket-list item.” Scott let out a long sigh before responding.

“I totally forgot about the elevators until we were in the lobby. This is like, the most impractical building ever.”

“Now that the elevators are dead, you mean.” Chris clarified.

“Who the fuck wants to say they work on the 68th floor of the Willis Tower, anyway? It’d be totally baller if there was just a big strip club on the 69th floor though. Like, a gentlemen’s club in the middle of an office building. If they could ever get it approved it’d be an instant success.” Tyler looked up the stairwell as he said this, almost as if he were imagining what such an establishment would be like.

“Willis 69.” Justin said, his sole contribution to the conversation.

“That’s a sweet name. Well, another million dollar idea down the tubes because elevators are dead.” Chris pushed himself to a standing position and began the climb up the stairs again. “This piss better be the greatest piss ever pissed. That’s all I’m saying.”

****

Eighteen blocks away, exactly across the street from the alley where Mr. Gold Chain was slowly creeping towards Jessica, a shadowy figure crouched behind a dumpster. The figure’s bright blue eyes blinked a couple times, and then looked through a tactical scope. Through the scope, those eyes could see Mr. Gold Chain licking his chapped lips, and Mr. Fedora finally get an arm around a short girl’s throat. Classic sleeper hold, this guy has done this before.

Fucker.

A small, black fingernail flared out and switched the safety off the rifle, then the same finger rested delicately over the trigger. The figure took a slow, deep breath, locking it’s sight on Mr. Fedora, who was struggling less and less as the short girl began to fade into unconsciousness.

Turn and look at me, I want to see your shitty face.

Almost as if Mr. Fedora could hear the figure’s thoughts, he turned, showing the taller girl her friend, now unconscious. His mouth broken into a wide grin, like a five year old boy who just caught his first fish and wants to show it off to the world.

Without blinking, the figure squeezed the trigger as she pursed her thick lips and slowly blew out her breath. The silencer softened the crack of the rifle, but the heavy whisper still echoed between the buildings and down the street.

Through the scope, the figure could see Mr. Gold Chain flinching at the sudden crack and then turn in panic when he heard the meaty slap of the round colliding and going through Mr. Fedora’s face. He turned back in panic and confusion, staring at the handgun in the tall girl’s hand.

The figure felt a smile crawl across her face as she narrowed her sights in on the dumbfounded Mr. Gold Chain’s face. The look of shock and fear on a man who had considered himself a predator not ten seconds earlier caused the shadowed figure to feel a rush of euphoria. She brought her finger to the trigger again.

Just before she was about to pull it, the tall girl who had been catatonic came alive. The pistol she had lowered to face the ground was quickly leveled at the chest of Mr. Gold Chain. His face twisted in a final snarl of rage as he began to lunge forward in a final attempt at survival. He was able to move another single step closer before the first slug slammed into his chest. The second and third slug caused him to fall to the dirty pavement in a heap.

Hmmmm, may have underestimated you.

Clicking the safety back in place, the figure shouldered the weapon and stepped out of the shadows, sunlight playing off her auburn hair. She still held back, watching as the tall girl ran over to her friend, who was coming to, on the ground. The short girl had fallen back when Mr. Fedora died, landing next to his body. Her new clothes had soaked up the dirt and grease of the alleyway, as well as a substantial amount of Mr. Fedora’s blood.

Seeing that her friend was okay, the tall girl finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Hello?” She called out, “Who’s there?” The figured stepped out of her adjacent alley and into the street, her natural smile filling her face. Her bright, cheerful voice penetrated the morning air.

“Hello! I saw you were in a bit of a bind, so I helped out. I hope that’s okay. My name is Brooke.”

***

The view from the 103rd floor observation deck was impressive, but Scott demanded they continue up to the rooftop area for the effort to really count. He did have a good point, they already came this far, it would be a little disappointing to give up at the 103rd floor instead of going all the way up. Chris and Justin were breaking open the door to the rooftop access while Tyler and Scott were doing the ‘gotta pee real bad’ dance in the stairwell.

When the door finally was opened and sunlight spilled inside, Tyler and Scott pushed past their friends and out to the edge of the observation deck. Tyler instantly pulled down his fly and began peeing through and into the barrier. Scott continued his ‘gotta pee’ dance a little more, as he looked around.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Justin asked.

“Ohhhh, it feels so good. This is the best idea ever. We’re so high, I bet I’m even peeing on some clouds!” Tyler shouted. Scott continued to dance, holding his hands up in a rectangle shape and looking through them, framing the scene before him.

“I came this far, I want the best possible view when I let this bladder go.” Finally he found a spot of panoramic view that seemed up to his standards. Scott unzipped his fly and let his stream fly through the air.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.” a soft moan of satisfaction escaped his lips. The sound of bliss that can only be achieved through the release of some kind of bodily fluid. He stood there, positioned strategically between two of the vertical bars that were there to prevent people from jumping.

From behind him, Chris and Justin could see his stream being pushed sideways by the wind. Chris was a little thankful that it wasn’t a windier day, he had heard that the updraft from the wind pushing against the building for one hundred floors was one of the reasons that they gave up on using blimps to get people around in the city. The gusts were too dangerous. He just hoped that a gust didn’t push Scott or Tyler’s sprays all the way back up and into their faces. It would have been less than favorable to come all this way just to get pee in your face. Not that it is ever an agreeable time to get pee on your face, but climbing over one hundred flights of stairs to do so would be worse.

After what seemed like five minutes, Scott finally turned back to the group, a big smile on his face.

“I don’t mean this to be disrespectful, but you honestly look like you just got laid for the first time.” Chris said, without a note of disrespect or sarcasm in his voice. Scott had a quizzical look on his face. Part happiness, part conquest, part curiosity.

“You do have a little bit of a glow to you, dude.” Justin agreed.

“I’ve been holding that piss in since we were on the street.” Scott’s quizzical look turned to a smile.

“And you’ve been guzzling water the whole way up.” Chris reflected aloud, more to himself than as a question. It really did start to make sense when he thought about it. The satisfaction you get from emptying your bladder seems to be directly proportional to how full the bladder is in the first place. The longer you hold it, the better it feels when you do finally let it out. Scott just smiled in response.

“Well, what do we do now?” Justin looked around at the faces of his friends. Tyler and Scott had broad grins on their faces, while Chris had a small smile of contentment. The question hung in the air for a full thirty seconds. Everyone looked back and forth at one another. Finally Chris unslung his backpack and spoke as he began digging something out from the bottom.

“I believe this is a fine time for a toast.” Chris pulled out a dark bottle with a faded label. He stood and handed it over to Justin. Examining the label, just could make out the word “Brandy” and the date “1946”. Chris had apparently pilfered the exceedingly old bottle of brandy from some store or home they had passed in the last few days.

“Sounds good, what do we toast to?” Scott said through his calm grin. Everyone looked to Chris, who was pulling out four snifter glasses as well. Clearly he had planned for this, and because of this, his friends expected him to have the words for the occasion as well. Chris let Justin open the bottle and poured a generous amount into each snifter and passed them out. Chris reveled in the ceremony of this, inhaling deeply over the glass before opening his mouth.