Rise: A Newsflesh Collection

  Kelly Nakata had always wondered what it felt like to truly understand that she was going to die. But here and now, in this place…

  If this was the zombie apocalypse, no one was coming to let them out. They were already compromised, already potentially infected, and no sane person would open those doors ever again. If this wasn’t the zombie apocalypse—but ah, that was the problem, wasn’t it? There was nothing else that this could really be. It made too much sense. It fit the facts too well, and that meant that everyone inside the building was going to die there. They could die scared and hiding, doing nothing. Or they could try to make things a little better in whatever way they possibly could.

  Kelly gave her spear an experimental twirl. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered, before saying, more loudly, “All right. Marty and I are the best-armed, so we should go in first, in case of trouble. Pris, you’re next. Eric and Stuart, you bring up the rear, make sure nothing comes up from behind us to try getting in the way.”

  “What do we do if something does come up behind us?” asked Stuart.

  “Hit it until it stops coming,” said Kelly. “Pris, you do whatever it is you need to do to get the wireless back online.” The few people who were in earshot were turning toward them, suddenly interested in what they were hearing. It figured that mentions of a working Internet would be enough to get people’s attention, no matter what other crap was going on at the time. “This is where we start moving, or we’re going to get mobbed.”

  “Who died and put you in charge?” asked Marty, sounding half-amused.

  “My Jedi master,” said Kelly dryly. Then she started walking, heading toward the shadowy nook where Pris claimed the wireless access panel was located. The rest of the group followed her. At this point, what else were they supposed to do?

  11:13 P.M.

  The first bloody-lipped man came lunging out of the darkness as soon as Kelly and Marty stepped off the carpet and out of the protection of the overhead lights. Kelly didn’t make a sound. She just swung her borrowed spear low and hard, hitting the man across the stomach. He moaned, a sound that was chillingly familiar, thanks to a hundred zombie movies. Kelly froze.

  And Marty brought his baseball bat down solidly on the man’s skull, which caved in with a horrific crunching sound. The man stopped lunging for Kelly and fell, leaving chunks of bloody gore on Marty’s bat. For a moment, everyone was silent, each of them trying to wrap his or her mind around what had just happened. Either zombies were real, or Marty had just killed a man. Either Marty was a murderer, or he was a savior. The contradiction was too big to be absorbed, and so without saying a word, they all dismissed it.

  “Let’s move,” said Kelly.

  They were almost to the wall when the second pair came charging out of the dark, just as silently as the first one—but unlike the first one, they started moaning before they were hit. One grabbed for Pris, who screamed, a short, startled sound. The other went for Kelly.

  Moving fast, Kelly whirled and slammed the butt of her spear into the man who was reaching for Pris. He staggered back a step, but otherwise didn’t seem to notice. That was when Kelly flipped the spear around and thrust the point into the man’s throat, pinning him in place long enough for Eric to slam his crowbar into the back of the man’s head.

  That was when the third man sank his teeth into Kelly’s shoulder. Kelly screamed and swore at the same time, trying to wrench herself free. She succeeded, briefly, but that was long enough for Marty to close the distance and beat the man off her with his baseball bat. Kelly clamped her hand over her wounded shoulder, staggering a few feet away before she turned to look back at the carnage.

  The man kept moaning even as he died. It wasn’t until his skull cracked that the sound stopped, replaced by limpness and eerie silence.

  “Kelly?” Stuart hesitantly touched her uninjured shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  No, you asshole. I’m bitten, and we both know what that means; we’re not idiots here. Kelly forced herself to look toward him, smile wanly, and lie. “Fine,” she said. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Not one of them believed what she was saying. But Stuart nodded with quiet resignation, like he understood why she needed to lie, and that seemed to speak for the whole group. “Good. Let’s get moving. I think we’re almost there.”

  Nothing else attacked them as they finished crossing the distance to the wall. Kelly was half-expecting there to be no access panel at all, and was quietly relieved when she saw it, industrial gray steel creating a patch of darker shadow on the wall.

  Pris walked to the hatch and pried it open with her fingernails. There was a red emergency phone inside. She lifted the receiver, checked her tablet one last time, and hit the “0.”

  All that was left to do after that was wait.

  11:16 P.M.

  Lesley jumped when the phone rang, nearly toppling out of the office chair where she’d been dozing. On the floor, Unis lifted her head off her paws before climbing to her feet, tail wagging cautiously. Sometimes the phone meant it was time to go Out. Unis thought that Out would be a lovely idea. The Woman had been still for too long, and the smells from outside were not the comforting kind, not grass or food or home. Outside the door smelled like blood and fear and peeing, and Unis wanted to get The Woman away from here if she could.

  “What in the world…?” said Lesley. She fumbled around the large control board until her hand hit what felt like a phone receiver. The ringing stopped when she picked it up. She brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hello!” said a female voice, half-laughing with relief. The voice grew distant for a moment as it said, “Guys! Guys, I got somebody! There’s somebody there!”

  “Thank God,” said a male voice. “Tell them we’re stuck in here.”

  “I’m stuck, too, and I can hear you,” said Lesley. “Who’s this?”

  “My name is Pris Garrison. I’m here with some of my friends in the hall. Please, do you work for the convention center? We’re locked in. Can you let us out?”

  “I’m afraid not, Ms. Garrison. My name’s Lesley Smith. I’m a journalist from the UK. I flew out to cover the convention, and when things went pear-shaped, I somehow found myself locked up in here. I was sort of hoping you’d called because you were about to rescue me.”

  A soft choking sound came through the receiver. After a moment, Lesley realized that it was Pris, laughing.

  “What?” she asked sharply. “I assure you, this isn’t funny.”

  “I know! I know. That’s why I’m laughing. Look, I’m sorry we can’t save you, but maybe you can still help us. Do you see a big gray button labeled ‘wireless controls’? It should be on the left side of the main control panel.”

  Lesley abruptly understood why Pris had been laughing. Sometimes the universe was so cruel as to become comic. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that, Ms. Garrison.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because I’m legally blind. I can see well enough to get myself around, with the help of my dog—she’s here with me—but I can’t read a label on a switch in this light, and I don’t think you want me to start flipping things at random.”

  There was a moment of silence before Pris said, “Okay. That’s… okay. I can get things back online from down here, but I need you to not touch anything, no matter what starts beeping or flashing. Can you do that? We’re hoping that if we can get the wireless back on, we might be able to call for help.”

  “I’m blind, not stupid,” said Lesley. “I can manage to keep my hands to myself while you do whatever needs to be done.”

  “Sorry,” said Pris, sounding abashed. “I didn’t mean… anyway, thank you. It’ll just take me a second. Thanks for your time.”

  Suddenly, the thought of being left alone in the little locked room was unbearable. “Is there anyone else with you?” asked Lesley. “I’d like to talk to them, please. If you don’t mind.”

  “Um, sure. Hang on.” Pris??
?s voice got distant for a moment as she said, “She wants to talk to somebody else.”

  There was a scuffling sound, and a male voice came on the line, saying, “Hello?”

  “Hello. My name’s Lesley. I’m locked in the control room at the moment, although I’m afraid I won’t be able to help Ms. Garrison with getting the wireless back on. What’s your name?”

  “Marty,” said the man. “There are three other people here, besides me and Pris. Stuart is helping Kelly bandage her shoulder. Eric’s keeping watch.”

  “One of you has been hurt, then?”

  “Yeah. Kelly got bit pretty bad getting to this phone. She’s not bleeding as much as she was, but even a little bleeding is too much when you’re trapped in a big-ass convention center with no medical supplies.”

  It was ironic. Lesley’s tour of the convention center had included the locations of all the first aid and disability assistance checkpoints… and they were all outside the central hall. With the doors locked, everyone was stuck. “I hope she’s all right.”

  “Ma’am, not to be rude, but I don’t think any of us is all right at this point.”

  “I’m afraid that might be true.” Something started beeping. Lesley turned toward the sound and saw that a large red light had snapped on in the middle of the center control panel. “Whatever Ms. Garrison is doing, it appears to be having some effect. There’s a red light on up here—no, wait. It’s just gone yellow, and now it’s flashing.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “I hope so. What were you hoping for this Comic-Con, Marty? If I may be so bold.”

  “I’m a vendor. I was hoping for some good sales, and maybe a bargain or two if I got time to do any shopping for myself.” Marty chuckled darkly. “Well, the stores are open. Too bad there’s nobody to take my money.”

  “No one taking money at Comic-Con? Truly, it is the end of the world.” It was meant to be a lighthearted joke. Somehow, it didn’t quite come out that way. Lesley cleared her throat. “The light’s gone green now, if that helps anything.”

  “It might. Pris! Try the Wi-Fi.”

  There was a pause, and then Lesley heard the voice from before, whooping in triumph. Someone else laughed. Whatever Pris had done, it must have worked, then. Not that it did her any good at all. She was still alone with her dog, sitting in the dark, and feeling increasingly unsure that any rescue was coming.

  “Marty? Are you still there?”

  “I am, yeah. Thanks for all your help, Lesley.”

  Don’t hang up; don’t leave me alone up here in the silence, thought Lesley frantically. Clearing her throat, she said only, “It was nothing, really. All I had to do was sit still and not touch anything. Fortunately for you, that happens to be a talent of mine.”

  “Still, we appreciate it. If this gets taken care of before the end of the convention, come look me up. I’m at Marty’s Comics and Games, in row 2100. I’d like to meet you in person.”

  “I’d like that, too,” said Lesley quietly. Good-byes would have felt too final—and given the circumstances, they probably would have been. So she said nothing more as she took the phone from her ear and dropped it back into the cradle, cutting off their conversation.

  Alone in the silence once more, Lesley Smith put her hands over her face and wondered when it was going to end. If it was ever going to end.

  11:30 P.M.

  “How’s your shoulder feeling?” Stuart took a step backward, wiping his bloody palms against the seat of his pants. There’d been so much blood. He wasn’t sure how much blood was safe for a person to lose. He was deathly afraid that he was about to find out.

  Kelly offered him a small smile. She could feel the bloody fabric of her shirt sticking to her skin, and she knew the situation wasn’t good. “It hurts like hell,” she said. “I’m glad we got the wireless back on.”

  “Me, too. I’d hate to have waded back into this mess for nothing.”

  Kelly’s smile strengthened. It was good, she decided, that he’d introduced himself without being prompted; it was good that she’d gotten to know him, even if it was only a little, before things went all the way wrong. “Hope’s not nothing. Remember that, okay?”

  “What?” Stuart blinked, expression turning alarmed. “Why are you talking like that?”

  “I got bit, Stuart. You remember what that girl said. I’m as good as dead.”

  “No, you’re not. The real world doesn’t work like that. The real world—”

  “She’s not wrong.” Pris’s voice was very soft. Kelly looked past Stuart to the other woman, realizing as she did that she hadn’t even noticed when the cheering stopped. Pris was pale, and the hand that held her tablet was shaking. “It’s all over Facebook and Twitter. People are calling this the zombie apocalypse. Actual people, who aren’t trapped inside here. They’re saying it’s an outbreak. The government didn’t lock the doors, but they’re not going to let anybody unlock them because we’re all already written off as dead. Infected.”

  “See? It’s the zombie apocalypse, and in the zombie apocalypse, once somebody gets bitten, they’re not your friend anymore.” Kelly held out her spear, waiting for Stuart to take it. “Go. Find a back door, find a way out of here, and go. Tell people we got the Internet up. Maybe if we make enough noise from inside, they’ll have to open the doors.”

  “Kelly, we’re not leaving you.”

  “Yes, we are.” Marty stepped up behind Pris, who shot him a relieved look. “I’m sorry as hell that you got bit helping us out. I’d take it back if I could.”

  “Would you take my place?” asked Kelly.

  Marty looked away. They should kill her; all the zombie movies he’d ever seen told him that they should kill her. And he couldn’t. That would be the final step toward making this all real, and he couldn’t.

  “I didn’t think so.” Kelly sighed. “Stuart, please. You saved my ass by setting up shop where you did, even if you don’t have a damn clue how to use the weapons you were selling. Let me save yours. Get the hell out of here.”

  “I don’t want to go without you,” said Stuart quietly. He reached out as he spoke, and took the spear gently from her hand.

  Kelly smiled. “I don’t give a fuck what you want.” Somehow, the words sounded like an endearment. Her attention swung to Marty. “Look out for Stuart. He needs a lot of looking after.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Marty.

  Pris sniffled, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and said, “I’ll make sure everybody knows what you did. How brave you were.”

  “You do that,” said Kelly. “Now go.”

  She stayed where she was, tucked into the shadowy nook off the main wall, and watched as the other four turned and walked away. Stuart glanced back at her several times. She forced herself to keep watching until they vanished around a corner and were gone. Then she sighed, all the straightness going out of her spine as she sank, cross-legged, to the floor. Her shoulder ached. Her feet hurt. She was so tired. So, so tired. Maybe she’d just stay there forever, she thought. Maybe that would be for the best.

  Kelly Nakata closed her eyes, letting her head list forward, and waited to stop caring about what was going to happen next. She was small. She’d lost a lot of blood.

  It didn’t take as long as she might have thought.

  LORELEI TUTT’S APARTMENT, LONDON, ENGLAND, JUNE 1, 2044

  The rum is sweet and burning at the same time. It makes it a little easier to discuss the events inside the convention center. Kelly Nakata and the others restored the record of what happened during the siege of Comic-Con; without their attempts to turn the wireless back on, we might never have known as much as we do. Lorelei was right when she said she’d need something stronger for what came next. So did I.

  LORELEI: It’s funny. I mean, there’s this whole story that has nothing to do with my family, happening at the same time that my family was fighting to survive. But without it, I’d never have known what happened to them. Was the whole
Rising like that, do you think? Just layers and layers of tangle, so that you can never really tell where one thing ends and the next one begins?

  She seems more human now, and more lost. I put my cup down and push it carefully away. I need to be sober for the remainder of this interview. No matter how much I want not to be.

  MAHIR: I believe so, yes. Everyone has his or her own story to tell. The San Diego Outbreak was unique only in that so many people were confined in such a small space. Their stories were almost forced to overlap.

  LORELEI: I spent a lot of time after the Rising going through all the social media feeds from that outbreak, looking for… something. I don’t know. Something that would make it all start making sense. Not linear sense. Just…

  MAHIR: You wanted something to make it fair.

  LORELEI: Yeah. That’s it, exactly. I wanted something that would make it fair for my parents to have died in there. I wanted something that would make it fair for me to have lived when they didn’t. I know—I know—that they were both glad I made it out of the hall before the doors closed. But that doesn’t make it right. And it doesn’t make it fair.

  MAHIR: I don’t think “fair” ever entered into it.

  LORELEI: Yeah, I guess not. That was never part of the equation. You know, I met Kelly Nakata’s brother a couple years ago. He came to one of the Equality Now film screenings that I helped put together. He was a really nice guy. He wanted to meet me.

  MAHIR:I can understand why.

  LORELEI: We’re almost to the end. Do you think we can get through this tonight?

  MAHIR: I would like that.

  LORELEI: Yeah. So would I. Let’s finish this.

  Everything Must Go

  The heroes of the Rising took many forms. Some of them fought. Some of them hid. Some of them just left artifacts for us to find after they were gone. But all of them died, and all of them, whether they knew it or not, were mourned.