Quarantined in Chaos (Nova Nocte) (21 page)

             
We made it! We flew straight across the city as soon as twilight was upon us before stopping a mile from the quarantine border to wait to cross. Reggie insisted that we wait for the night to get darker and we stay far enough away not to be mistaken for Dead by the sharpshooters along the barrier.

             
I peered into the thawing obscurity at the barrier that protected Canada and its American refugees. I could see how it began as sandbags, concrete traffic barriers, and chain link fence. Behind those mundane obstacles was a sturdy wall around ten feet high. Soldiers and what appeared to be volunteers patrolled the top searching through their scopes for any approaching fleshies. Only one gate was visible for miles and it was thick steel with spikes protruding along the bottom half.

             
All around the structure lay the remains of hundreds of people. Most seemed badly decomposed; I assume they were zombies and not survivors pleading for asylum.

             
“Why are there only a few hundred bodies? Shouldn’t there be more?”

             
Reggie leaned down and whispered as another zombie stumbled past in search of the bright lights on the wall.

             
“They clear the bodies about once a week. They send a force through the gate and impale the skulls before burning the fiends. There’s a mass pyre half a mile west and another to the east. Gates are every ten miles and the wall goes from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario. The barrier isn’t as complete out west, but this stretch is small and easier to defend.”

             
“So why are we crossing where it’s harder to pass?”

             
“Because it’s closer and we aren’t going through it, but over it.”

             
Oh yeah, flying. Play it off.

             
“That makes sense, but what about when we bring the others through; they can’t fly.”

             
Nice recovery.

             
Cal intervened as Daemon sliced through the sagging face of a rotund corpse that was nibbling on his sneaker.

             
“We can fly them over. It will take time, but time is something we have at our disposal.”

             
“Ewww. Does anyone have a towel or wet nap or something?” Daemon kicked the deceased into the slush. “I really liked these shoes.”

             
We let our conversations wane and watched the sentries on the wall. They fired only when a fleshie got past the first round of hindrances. None of the roving Dead were put down until they reached the main wall unless the Dead moved in a large enough group.

             
The continuous moaning and tramping of the infected made me struggle to keep my thoughts on the present. Cal rubbed my healed arm and gave me a little smile of encouragement after I plugged my ears and began humming ‘It’s a small world’.

             
The swarm of frostbitten broken cadavers inched past us towards the barrier that displayed living flesh with high powered firearms. At least forty moved en masse in desperation for the guards and their charges. The four of us shifted back a hundred yards to observe the interaction.

             
An alarm went up along the partition and a half dozen more snipers appeared from the other side. Many went to a knee or lay on their stomach to set their aim. In small bursts the bullets erupted through the heads of those in front. Cranium shards and gray matter gushed into the night air. Confetti of flesh against the trampled snow.

             
I ceased humming and listened to the precise shots and calm directions as the riflemen worked in unison to dispel the mindless force. The next wave stumbled over their predecessors and tumbled to the earth. Dirt and blood exploded as the fallen were kept down with fractured skulls.

             
Clouded eyes sat openly staring into mine as one of the Dead fell backwards after the round hit his chest. It extended its gnarled hand and for an instant I recognized the face from late night TV. Two pops and the comedian’s eyes were replaced with a gaping hole. I was dragged backwards by my sire and ducked to cover my head.

             
The shooting continued for ten minutes. Daemon held me tightly while our companions relaxed against a large tree stump. When the call was made to ceasefire, I fought the desire to become a meerkat and look up. After a few minutes I gave in and peeked at the wall; all was normal.

             
Reggie stood and gestured for us to follow him away from the scene.

             
“Time to move. Everyone have their belongings and dressed in decent attire?”

             
I dabbed at the bits of brain and skin on my jeans with a rag.

             
“Not anymore. Why does it matter?”

             
“It matters because we can’t look like we’ve been on this side of the border when we land in Toronto.”

             
Cal nodded and then abruptly stopped.

             
“Why are we flying all the way across the lake and into Toronto? Niagara is just beyond the barrier.”

             
“Not anymore. Most of this next fifty miles is occupied only by soldiers, civilian lookouts, and refugees who are afraid to leave in case loved ones show up. Everyone else booked it last year. Bad property values close to the quarantine.”

             
“Very well, I suppose that makes sense. Let’s just be off and make sure not to be seen until we look respectable.”

             
We hovered for a moment, ensuring the sentries hadn’t witnessed our take off, and glided over the lake. The bright lights and the outline of the CN Tower were on the horizon. I smiled until my cheeks hurt.

             
Almost there. We’re going to make it.

             
I waited for something to go wrong as we soared closer to our destination. I pushed aside images of us being shot down or crashing into a force-field or something. The dying cries of the infected grew further away and the once familiar buzz of people and cars and electricity took its place.

             
Tears fell from me as hail as we approached a darkened area along the lake. Daemon squeezed my hand; I’d forgotten he was holding it. Reggie slowed and descended ahead of us.

             
We are going to have a life here. A real life. The past is almost over.

             
We touched down in a dim alley. It was the most beautiful place I’d ever been. I sat down to listen to the hum of cars driving and the mewing of stray cats against the bitter cold. Reggie began to rebuke me for not hurrying to change clothes; Cal stopped him.

             
“We all need a moment I think. It has been a difficult time for us. We will dress, but for now, we must allow the past to drift into the ether if we are to embrace our future.”

             
The three of us absorbed our surroundings full of the pulse of life for a full five minutes. It was glorious. I memorized every brick on the wall opposite me. Each crack and stain was free of the carnage I’d grown accustomed to seeing. I wanted to kiss the filthy ground beneath me for being covered in piss instead of putrid flesh.

             
I let the joy be held off and removed a recently scavenged pair of pants from my bag. While the three of us changed clothes, Reggie carried a handful of gold chains and rings to a pawn shop. He returned with six hundred dollars Canadian.

             
“This should be enough to rent you all a room for a few days and to gather whatever you’ll need for your return mission. I assume you haven’t decided to leave your former fellows to make the journey alone?”

             
I shook my head.

             
Even if I go it alone, I’m going. I promised I’d get them out safely and my parents taught me to keep my promises.

             
Our guide shook each of our hands and hoisted his sack of loot.

             
“I’ll see you all in a week or two then. I’ll begin arranging identification and the like for your return. Just drop by my place when you arrive, Cal. You remember the loft?”

             
“Of course. Thank you again for your help.”

             
“Don’t mention it. Especially not to my wife; Lorna has always hated the trouble I get in when you and I spend time together.”             

             
“Just remind her she wouldn’t have met you if I hadn’t taken her to the Globe to see the nighttime show of Hamlet. That should shut her up for a few decades at least.”

             
The friends laughed and parted. Cal led us to a small hotel and we checked into a suite. For the rest of the night we marveled at our lost comforts: running water, electricity, escorts to drink blood from (our own version of take out), and heaters. We stayed in the room all night and watched television from our comfy beds during the day. I snuggled against Daemon as we rested on machine-washed sheets. I fell asleep with the scent of lavender in my nose.

              We stood near the waterway in dry-cleaned clothes holding five gallon gas cans. The three of us took our time soaking in the peace found in the chaos of modern technology and overcrowding. The sun had only set an hour before and we’d already fed from an array of glamoured citizens on their way to dinner dates or home from work.

             
As soon as we were certain no one was near, we shot through the sky. We passed the wall against the backdrop of thick clouds, fluffy with moisture that aspired to become snow. The sounds of civilization faded to be steadily replaced by the quiet of the tomb. The ten gallons of unleaded sloshed in either hand. We landed with our jugs a couple of miles past the border.

             
We may be the only people stupid enough to want to cross the border
into
the quarantine.

             
Daemon set his cargo on a bench near the sign asking us not to litter in the state park. Cal did the same and stretched after the workout we’d just had. I cracked my back and removed my knapsack.

             
“So how do we find exactly where the others are? There are dozens of roads to get them here, assuming they stay on the bikes and don’t decide to trudge due north through the rural areas.”

             
“Wait, we didn’t plan this part first?”

             
Daemon plopped onto the bench beside his canisters. Cal picked up his supplies and looked around.

             
“We’ll find them. We just need to choose a place to wait for them and set signage on the alternate routes directing them to us. It will be much as Reggie did on the roof.”

             
I donned my bag and lifted the gasoline.

             
“Yeah but he was able to put that on a roof because he knew we’d be flying. Sunny and Chase are either riding bikes or walking. They could be anywhere in a hundred mile vicinity of where we left them.”

             
“Plus without us, they’re probably travelling by day when it’s easier for them. So how will we know if we’ve passed them if they could be hiding during the night while we have to hide during the day?”

             
Cal stormed off along the road.

             
“You two are going to be the death of me, I fucking know it.”

             
We marched along in his wake. Daemon grinned like a twelve year old peeking into a ladies locker room.

             
“Sometimes it’s fun to poke holes in his plans. He really lets his hair down when he gets annoyed.”

             
“Daemon.”

             
“Yeah?”

             
“You’re a twisted individual. I respect that about you.”

             
I gave him a kiss as we toted the petrol past wrecked vehicles. Cal checked each one for usability as he walked while Daemon and I shoved the disabled crafts off the road. The return trip would be faster with a clear path. After half a night of walking, hauling fuel, and dragging tons of steel and fiberglass, Cal found an acceptable car.

             
We cleaned the debris of someone’s life out of the BMW Hybrid. Dresses, photos, toys, and other household goods decorated the defunct highway to be replaced with our own luggage. Cal poured a few pints worth of gas into the car.

             
“I’m going to see if it will turn over. We shouldn’t waste the fuel if it won’t.”

             
He sat in the driver’s seat and mumbled something that sounded like a prayer before turning the key. It didn’t work. He cursed and popped the hood.

“Oil is probably long dried up. Did either of you bring any?”

              I stared at the engine.

             
“Yeah, I’ve got a barrel of crude in my back pocket. Any other thoughts?”

             
Daemon went to the trunk of several trucks. He came back with five quarts of various brand of oil.

             
“No one ever remember that they have these things. So many drivers pack them for long trips and only remember that they have jumper cables and a spare tire in back.”

             
He poured a quart of 10W40 into the engine and replaced the cap.

“Give it a minute then try again.”

              “When did you become a grease monkey?”

             
He wiped his hands on a Spiderman onesie.

             
“I didn’t. I just remember that my dad always made sure to put a spare quart in the back with some coolant, jack, spare, and cables. I figured everyone did that.”

             
Cal turned the key. A few clicks. Our hope for the sports sedan rose. After a few more tries the car was revived. We let the engine run for ten minutes before shutting it off to add more oil and unleaded. I did a silly celebration dance while Daemon did a slow-motion victory lap around the car. Cal watched us with a serious expression. We both stopped and he broke into a smile and started to do the hustle. We began our trip full of laughter.

             
“We’ll take turns driving, clearing the road, and flying ahead. We should drive slowly to conserve the fuel and allow the path to be widened. Whoever is flying will be looking for signs of life and marking other roadways with signs to use this one. If we near Pittsburgh without finding the others, we will double back and wait just before Buffalo.”

             
Daemon raised his hand.

             
“So who’s doing what first?”

             
“I think you should start on the highway while I fly and Squirrel drives.”

             
I did a little fist pump of excitement and threw in a cd from the visor case.

             
“Sweet. Thanks guys, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

             
Daemon put on a false pout and went to work as soon as Cal took to the heavens. I cranked up the AC/DC and rolled the car at a solid twenty miles per hour. I noted how the Roman flew from side to side and barely above the treetops. Once in a while, he’d disappear for a few minutes to leave a sign on another roadway or a noticeable structure. Daemon ragged on him about tagging billboards with spray paint.

             
We switched off after three hours and I took the markers and spray paint satchel from Cal, handing Daemon the keys. I later realized I probably could’ve run the heat in the car. The night wore on and the zombies we crossed were all long past fresh. I heaved car parts at the ones who wandered my way. It’s surprising how well a Chevy fender will destroy a six foot tall dead guy.

             
The drive through Buffalo took us until the sun was rising. The cursed fleshies seemed to come out of every crevice the city had to bombard our transportation. Cal was trapped inside the hybrid while Daemon and I spent hours hacking at Dead. I had to hover over the ground to keep them from biting me; an irrational fear of being infected again crashed over me like a tsunami.

             
Daemon swung high and low with his katana until it snapped against the prosthetic arm of a particularly rank old man. I lent him my broadsword and wielded a camp shovel like a short spear. A chunk of one woman’s scalp got stuck in the serrated edge and came off. The zombie ballerina kept strolling blissfully unaware.

             
Cal rolled over the top of the fleshies and backed up every few yards to gain better traction and momentum. He fired a Glock out his window when the herd was too thick. The side of the BMW looked like a Jackson Pollock painting gone awry.

             
Daemon attempted fancy moves against the numerous waves of Dead. I resorted to a large cable with a steel bar lashed to it. I swung it like the pendulum of stone back at camp and was rewarded with multiple cracked skulls. The only difference, was that I was performing the tactic in midair instead of leaned over a tower platform.

             
The path was clear of vehicles or major building debris, but clogged with smashed corpses. Once we broke the city limits, the population of zombies lessened. Exhausted and without additional blood, the three of us left a sign for our friends and hid in our car with a tarp blocking the sunlight.