Hurricane Dan (A Zombie Novel) (12 page)

Chapter 23

             
Barns was sound asleep and snoring, his facial hair blowing back and forth with the wind coming in and out of his mouth. A line of drool seeped from the corner of his lips and his chest rumbled along with his snoring. Carl had come by and dropped off the deck of playing cards from the night before. Since then, Dan and Zoey had managed thirteen games of speed.

"You cheat!" Zoey both yelled and laughed at the same time.

Dan grabbed the deck and slid it back in its box, knowing he had won. "I'm sorry, but you are just going to have to accept the fact that I am better than you."

"Bullshit! Come on, shuffle the deck, we are playing again."

"Nope, I retire."

"That's crap, Dan, you can't just lose every game and then stop on the only time you beat me."

He shrugged. "I was the last one to win, that means I am the champion."

"Bull shit. Bullshit!"

Were she not laughing, he might have thought she was mad at him. She balled one of her hands into a fist and shook her head like she couldn’t believe what had just happened.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "I can't stand sitting here anymore. Let’s go find Dicky, see if there isn't anything we can do."

She grabbed his hand and he helped her up to her feet. "Okay, sure."

The people were scattered across the grass in groups, some sleeping, some sitting. Most of the talking was hushed, the sound of the wind in the trees; distant gunfire could be heard over it.

Dan and Zoey were able to zigzag through the crowd fairly easily on their way up to the library. As soon as they reached it they came across a bunch of firemen lounging around on the steps. They looked sweaty and exhausted, but overall they seemed surprisingly cheerful. They were very animated as they told stories and jokes. Despite everything that’s going on, Dan thought, they are just happy to be alive.

He expected to be stopped but the firemen let them through without incident.

"So I climbed into the window expecting to find normal people that needed to be rescued from the fire," Dan overhead one of the firemen saying as he passed. "Instead I find myself face to face with two zombies. Now I didn't know that at the time, they were just people to me. All chewed up and sick, I swear I almost threw up in my mouth a little. Now I’m going through the whole routine, telling them to relax and that I am here to rescue them. Well they were zombies, so they start coming at me, right?"

Dan slowed down so he could hear more of the story. Zoey didn't protest, he could only assume that she was thinking the same thing.

"I could see it in their eyes as they got close. It wasn't the kind of look that says rescue me, ya know? It was instinct, I shoved them to the ground, boom, boom." He flailed his arms in motion with the story. "So I'm trying to tell them to calm down, I'm only here to help. You know, standard procedure. But these people start getting back up, they looked mean too. So I start thinking to myself, Pauly, you gotta defend yourself from these wackos. By then the smoke was coming through all the vents and the paint on the wall was beginning to bubble. Actually, an orange glow was casting some light through the crack under the door, that was when I really got a good look at them. All sick with those dead eyes, freaked me out. I thought I was dealing with demon people like from that exorcism movie or something. So I'm freaking out right, because these guys are getting back up. That's when I grab my axe. I didn't even think twice, I came down one after another, right on the top of the head. Needless to say, I got the hell out of there. Didn't know what to tell the captain though, am I right?"

Dan opened the library door to let Zoey go in ahead of him. She gave him a look as she passed. It was something that said,
did you hear that
? He nodded.

They were met with a blast of warm air as they stepped inside the library. It had to have been a good twenty degrees warmer in there than it was outside. Dan cupped his ears, he had not noticed how cold they had gotten; the warm air felt great.

The door they had come through was marked Exit Only and it was the smallest door in the building. It was tucked into a corner and painted to match the wall. It was there for emergencies only, and probably just to keep the building up to code. In contrast, the room they had walked into was massive; the size matched two hockey rinks lined end to end. Everything had a rustic look to it; Dan felt like he had traveled back in time. He gazed up at large vintage chandeliers that hung over row upon row of desks. The desks themselves were so large that there were only two in each row, stretching from one side of the room to the other. Spaced every few feet, on the desks, were green lamps. There was a bookshelf on the wall that wrapped the entire length of the room, up to about chest height, making it fit under the large cathedral windows. On the ceiling was a painting of a blue sky amidst white clouds. In a way it looked like parts of the ceiling were made of glass, as if he weren't looking at a ceiling, rather up at the sky itself. 

"The rose room," said Zoey.

Dan imagined the room as it once was, clean and tidy, because it certainly did not have those attributes anymore. The National Guard had completely taken over half of the room, firefighters and policemen had taken over the other half. They ran all over the place, tracking supplies they had sitting on the floor in duffle bags and scattered all across the room. A few of the people had clipboards and would mark them whenever people brought new information. It looked like they were getting ready for a massive yard sale of food and weaponry.

"Come on," said Dan, grabbing Zoey’s hand and pulling her through the room.

A few of the policemen and one of the National Guardsmen eyed them suspiciously as they passed, before turning back to their work.

Dan kept them moving through more large rooms with grand arches, past countless servicemen, until they emerged at the front steps of the library. Dicky was at the bottom of the steps with his back to them, surveying Fifth Avenue as a plow truck drove up.

"Hey, Dicky," said Dan as he got closer.

Dicky glanced back at him for a moment before turning back to the plow truck. "What do you need, Dan?"

"We want to help," said Zoey.

Dan took a step forward so that he was even with Dicky. "Is there anything we can do? Something to keep us busy instead of sitting around and waiting to die."

"Sure," said Dicky. "I got something you can do, but it is going to have to wait. The first of the riot guys is just getting back."

As soon as the plow truck stopped the back gate flung open. Two riot policemen hopped out and then turned back to be handed one of their comrades. The man was unconscious and bleeding from a gash in his neck, the blood ran down his skin before getting lost on his dark uniform. His comrades were all covered in blood from holding him.

They laid him down gently as the rest of the squad piled out of the truck. They were calm, their movements precise. One of the men, the one putting pressure on the wound, looked up at Dicky.

“We need a doctor fast. He has been losing blood for the better part of an hour.”

"Has he been bitten?" Dicky asked.

Nobody in the squad responded, it was as if they were afraid to say it out loud.

"Has he been bitten?"

"Yes," said the guy holding the wound. "But we don't think he is going to turn."

"They all turn," said Dick, unholstering his pistol. "Step back."

He cocked the chamber and aimed it at the unconscious man’s head.

"I said he's not going to turn," said the man, reaching out to grab Dicky's gun hand.

Dick let the man grab his hand, using it as leverage to pull as he came around with a right hook.

Blood poured from the unconscious man’s neck as soon as the pressure was removed.

Dan could tell the guy Dicky had punched had broken his nose, even as he fell to the ground. He hit the pavement next to his comrade and held his face.

Dan suddenly found himself wondering what would happen if the entire squad decided to jump Dicky for punching one of their own. Would he be able to run inside for help, or would they grab him and beat him before he could?

The unconscious man snapped awake and lunged for the man with the broken nose. Dicky put a bullet in his head before he could do any harm.

"You've all had a rough day," said Dicky. "Head inside and get some rest. Don't worry about your friend."

"Sam," said one of the guys. "His name was Sam."

"Right, don't worry about Sam, I will take care of him."

The group of riot police scraped their broken-nosed friend off the ground and began to shuffle inside. They looked defeated.

Dicky turned back to Dan and Zoey as if nothing significant had just happened. "I'm running border patrol on shifts, your standard mornings, afternoons and midnights. My guys are in charge of every intersection in a two block radius. I've also got teams sweeping the surrounding buildings, going door to door in an attempt to clear out any stragglers, so there are no surprises. Needless to say, I am spreading my manpower extremely thin. Had I known the riot police would have backfired, I would have kept them here." He kicked the ground as if he were angry with himself. "Anyway, it would help me out if I didn't have to waste manpower running supplies. We have a sedan; if we load the thing with supplies, do you think you two could take them to the front line?"

"What kind of supplies?" asked Dan.

"Food, water, ammunition."

"We would love to," said Zoey.

Another plow truck turned down Fifth Avenue and started driving towards them. Its engine whined and smoked, there was flesh hanging from the passenger’s side mirror and most of the windows were cracked.

"Damn it," said Dicky. "I sent a truck to the village, it should have been the first one back."

As the truck got closer and slowed to a stop, the engine cut off on its own. The hood sounded like it was sizzling. The front plow, once yellow, was now red with gore. It slid down like water and dripped on the pavement.

"She ain't gonna survive another trip," the driver yelled down to Dicky. "She barely made this one."

When the back gate swung open only six guys jumped out.

Dicky looked like he was in shock. "Where are the rest of you?"

"Dead by now," said one of the guys as he limped forward. "They got through our defenses. Everybody that was bit volunteered to stay back and keep giving them hell."

Dicky seemed to pull himself back together and nodded to the man. "Head inside and get that limp checked out."

Dan and Zoey stood there waiting for Dicky to show them to the supply car. Before he could, the next truck came and unloaded its beaten and battered cargo, and the next truck. As far as Dan could tell, the truck that had been sent to the village had never come back. That didn't stop Dicky from waiting for it. He stood there, stone-faced and determined.

The shadows shifted against the buildings. Dan and Zoey went closer to the library to sit with their backs resting against the wall. The clocks ticked, the time passed, the truck that had been sent to the village never came back.

Chapter 24

             
"Alright, this should be the last of it," said a female police officer as she loaded two jugs of water into the trunk of a red car. "Everything in the trunk goes to Forty-first and Broadway, everything in the back seat goes to Fortieth and Broadway. Got it?"

"I think we got it," said Dan as he eyed two firemen suspiciously.

They were carrying the body of the dead riot policeman. They didn't say much, just lifted the body up and set it on the roof of the car. A streak of blood ran down the back windshield.

"And what is the point of that?" asked Zoey.

The cop looked at the body like she was disgusted. "We need to keep the quarantined area sterile. That means that we can't have any dead bodies lying around, rotting. They want you guys to take it to the front line and toss it over."

"Lovely," said Zoey.

Dan caught the car keys as they were tossed to him. They were tangled and old, not an automatic lock in the bunch. A small pair of dice hung from a chain connected to the center ring.

"Come back when you are done, so we can load you up with more supplies," said the cop before walking away.

Dan and Zoey eyed each other once they were alone. The idea of helping out sounded good at first; now that they were stuck with a job, it didn't seem so good.

"Well, should we get going?" asked Zoey.

Dan climbed into the car and turned the engine. The thing cranked for a few seconds before deciding to turn over. He was thankful when it did, he didn't want to have to go back and explain that he couldn't get the car started.

"Alright, let's get this rust bucket moving," said Dan as Zoey climbed into the passenger side.

In order to get to Forty-first and Broadway, Dan had to drive around to the exact opposite side of the library, behind Bryant Park, and turn down Forty-first. He then had to drive one block to reach Broadway.

As soon as they turned on Forty-first Street the city once again became barren of all life. It was the no man zone between the zombie takeover and civilization. As far as Dan was concerned, it might as well have been called the twilight zone.

"This is so weird," said Zoey.

Dan glanced out at the empty stores with their broken windows, blood smeared in some way or another on everything. The cars they passed were riddled with bullet holes. There had been a battle there; the safe zone had been carved out in blood.

"If you ever wanted to know what the apocalypse looks like, take a gander," said Dan.

As they pulled up to Broadway he could see that some of the National Guardsmen were stationed on the opposite side of the street. They had stacked up a line of sandbags and topped it off with barbed wire. Beyond that, there was no shortage of zombies stumbling towards them. Fortunately, they were dropping dead at a safe distance.

They sat there idling at the intersection for a minute, watching the soldiers shooting out over the barricade every twenty seconds or so.

Dan's heart jumped into his throat as the front doors flew open to a Starbucks on the corner closest to his driver’s side door. There was no glass in the door but the frame was still there.

A National Guardsman came out balancing three steaming coffee cups in his hands.

"Go ahead and pull up to the barricade," he said, nodding towards the other side of the street.

Dan watched as Zoey's eyes zoned in on the coffee. "What I wouldn't give for one of those right about now.”

Dan put the car in park and killed the engine. "Two coffees coming up," he said as he got out of the car.

The National Guardsman watched him for a moment before heading across the street.

Dan opened the front door and was surprised to see the power was on. He wondered what it took to knock the power out in the city; more than a zombie outbreak apparently.

If it weren't for the fact that all the windows had been smashed in and the tables knocked over, the Starbucks looked like it was ready for business.

Dan made his way around the counter, stepping over a pool of blood to get there. He immediately found himself overwhelmed; he had never been behind the counter of a coffee shop before. There were so many knobs, pots, pans, cups, toppings, he didn't even know where to start.

"Step aside Dan, I'll take it from here," said Zoey as she came around the counter.  "What do you want?"

"Surprise me," said Dan, wondering if she was going to be able to figure out how everything worked.

Sure enough, she knew her way around, hopping back and forth from machine to machine. It couldn't have taken her any more than a minute before Dan's drink was in his hand, whipped cream and all.

"Well, what do you think?"

Dan took a sip; it was a little sweeter than he was used to. "Not bad."

"I knew it. You look like a latte guy, that or a black coffee guy. They usually look the same," she said as she began making her own drink. "I used to be a barista before I got my internship."

"What did you go to school for?" he asked.

"Architecture," she said. "I picked up my bachelor’s, I want to go back for my masters. If I did that, I would be making a ton of money, not that that's what's important."

"It's more important than being homeless," he said sardonically.

Zoey finished making her own drink and they began to head back towards the car.

"What did you go to school for?" she asked.

"I didn't, when I got out of high school I went straight to work, and never looked back." He failed to mention that up until the zombies he had been living off the land, or the pavement as far as being homeless in the city was concerned.

“A working man, I like that,” she said as they walked back to the car.

Dan took another sip and felt the heat sear his tongue. He winced a little but tried not to let on.

“Something like that,” he said as he started the car.

Having her call him a working man and sounding so enthusiastic made him feel like more of a bum than he was. He felt worthless, a working man was above him.

She was watching, he had to force a smile that fought to turn the corners of his mouth down. He looked straight forward as he started the car.

What the fuck ever, he thought, it doesn’t even make a difference with all these zombies. I could be Frank fucking Sinatra for all it matters now. The thought cheered him up a little.

On Broadway, they had to drive across four lanes in order to reach the barricade.

"Another fallen serviceman," said one of the National Guardsmen, walking up to their car. "Damn."

He grabbed the body off the roof and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The other guardsmen moved aside for him as he walked up and tossed the body over to the other side of the sandbags.

Dan popped the trunk and began to get out of the car, he felt out of place on the front line of a battlefield in street clothes. A few of the guardsmen fired a round off, making him even more uneasy.

The zombies were traveling towards them in small packs, they stretched out for as far as he could see. It seemed like every thirty seconds or so a group would stumble into firing distance and the guardsmen would take them out. An immense pile of bodies was beginning to form between them and the next stop light. Any new zombies had to climb over the stack only to get shot and tumble down the other side.

"That's one hell of a pile you are working on," said Dan as he unloaded the supplies.

The guardsmen eagerly gulped down the water bottles and took stock of the fresh ammunition.

"Any higher and they might not be able to climb it," said one of them. "We have yet to decide if we should leave it or risk moving it."

Another guy looked back from his rifle. "I still say we should torch it. If we get lucky the fire will burn a few live ones when they try to climb over."

"I'm not opposed to that idea," said the first. "I'm willing to try anything that could save us some bullets."

"How is this all going?" asked Dan. "Having any problems keeping out the zombies?"

"It isn't as good as I would like it to be," said the first guardsman.

It was the exact opposite of what Dan was hoping to hear. "What do you mean?"

"Well for starters, we are spread too thin. We try to let the guys go back to the library to get some rest but for the most part they have to sleep here in case we need them. Ammunition gets handed to us on a timed schedule, which is not good if we need extra. Now, don't get me wrong, we are holding these things back with ease right now. Unfortunately that might not be the case an hour from now or an hour after that. So far, the stream of zombies coming in has doubled every twelve hours or so. If that keeps happening then I suggest you start praying."

"So you don't think you can hold them," asked Zoey.

"Easy now," said the guardsman. "I don't want you guys heading back and starting rumors. All I am saying is that the zombies better stop increasing at the rate they are. Personally I believe that will happen soon, they have got to start running out of bodies at some point."

"Yeah, but there is a huge number of people on the island of Manhattan at any given moment. It is hard to imagine you guys being able to take them all out," said Dan.

The guardsman looked at him like he was annoyed. "A large number, yeah, but it is still a finite number. We are going to stop them."

"But what if you are wrong?"

"Well, then I guess we are fucked, guy."

Dan took the hint and set down the last of the boxes. "I really hope we are not fucked."

"Amen to that," said another of the guardsmen.

They were only a short ways away from Fortieth Street. They needed only to head one block down Broadway. The dead zombies there lay in a thick carpet across the entire block on the other side of that barricade. The guardsmen there had tried to space out where the zombies were when they killed them, preventing another hill situation.

When Dan and Zoey showed up they helped to unload the supplies and were quick to send them on their way.

Dan noted how different the two small platoons were. Both went about doing the same job, the same way, but they had such different styles. He wondered which one was the weakest link and desperately hoped he would never find out.