“Switch!” Indy calls. I raise a finger.
Four figures appear on the cab’s roof dressed in black, then jump to the trailer and walk the roof toward the rear. My heart slows, and my hand reaches for the radio that should be on my hip, but it comes up empty. Most of our radios were taken the other day, and they weren’t returned with the food. The four men lift long black rifles as the gate slides open, and there’s no mistaking the gait of the figures who lumber in, or the human cries of surprise that carry across the park.
“Indy!” I yell. It’s lost in the sound of gunshots.
She’s at my side when the screaming begins. We slide down the stairs to the lobby and race for the park entrance across from 6A. No matter how fast we run, it feels like a never-ending race we’re certain to lose.
Lucky stands on the second-story porch of Micah’s house, where he was ordered to rest his leg. “Inside!” Indy calls as our feet pound the pavement. He shakes his head. “In-fucking-side! I’ll come back for you. If I don’t, go to the safe house.”
He retreats. A truck roars through where Gate 5B should be a block below. A pickup turns the corner of Seventh, gunning for us, with a rifle out the passenger’s side window and two men in the bed. We scramble over the park’s stone wall, up the short slope, and burst through the bushes to the path while shots crack behind us.
I get a respite from my terror at the sight of Eric and Paul inside the courts with a group of people, but the Lexers moving that way make it short-lived. With a lung-bursting sprint, Indy and I beat them to the courts. Eric slams the gate behind us. He’s covered in gore from his boots to his hair, but I fall into his arms on legs gone wobbly. Maria holds Leo, Jorge beside her, and I search for Grace and Eli in the crowd.
“Eli?” Indy asks, panting.
“He and Grace were by the gate,” Eric says. “I can’t find them.”
The gate where people wail as they’re devoured. I spin for a view, but the first of the mob hits our chain-link divider, jangling the metal so that the people behind me yelp. If we can rid ourselves of this threat, we can focus on the next: the men on the streets, down at the avenue, on the roofs. Indy, Eric, Paul, and I plunge our weapons through the links into eyes and cheeks, pretending we can fight all those people, and all those guns, with nowhere to hide.
Eric stops to watch the far end of the fence, knife aloft and panic brewing in his eyes. A pickup pushes Lexers from its path and rolls alongside the courts, rifle out the passenger window. The man behind it fits the barrel between the links and fires. People in the back of the court scatter, shoving and stampeding for a safe place that doesn’t exist.
We run toward Maria, Jorge, and Leo. They’re crouched low, Jorge safeguarding them with his back to the pickup. “The rec center?” Eric asks, panting.
Paul picks up Leo with a tight-lipped nod. Indy’s eyes widen, though she doesn’t argue. It means going through zombies, but it’s better than a firing squad. We can climb the pool fence and fight from in there. We’ll have food, water, and weapons. We’ll have a chance. But only if Sacred Heart hasn’t gotten there first.
The gate opens. Many of our people race out and around the tennis courts toward the back of the pool. Sacred Heart’s residents trail in their wake. We won’t make it out through the Lexers entering the courts. I grip my chisel, prepared to fight what’s become a losing battle, when a woman falls to the Astroturf with a high-pitched scream, clutching her side. The Lexers at the gate detour for her.
“Now!” Jorge yells.
We run through the gate, eking ahead of the zombies who’ve left the fence to follow the crowd, and circle the tennis courts. A burst of gunfire comes from the pool. The people turn back in a wave, which leaves us no choice but to do the same.
We hit the coming mob straight on. Eric keeps inches from my side, and I stay at Paul’s left, where he holds Leo while he fights right-handed. Fingers snatch my hair, grab my coat, and pluck the strap of my bag. I stumble into Sister Constance. She’s newly dead, her face grayish but unsullied by bites, and her still-white teeth snap inches from my cheek. Her chin flies upward from the thrust of Eric’s knife before she drops at my feet. I trip over her body and find my balance in time to drive my chisel into the eye of a man coming for Leo.
Ahead, Jorge shoves them aside and to the ground. Maria and Indy stab the ones who make it past. Lexers nip at my ankles. They claw my pants. I kick them as I slam my chisel into the faces and eyes and temples of the ones on their feet. My arm is numb from the toil of driving metal through bone and cartilage so many times in quick succession. They could be men, they could be women, but all I see are teeth. Gnashing, snapping, stained teeth. My feet move forward without thought. My arms strike and shove mechanically. It might be thirty seconds, or ten minutes, or a lifetime, when I realize the density of bodies has thinned. They’re moving for the people who shriek behind us, and though it will likely earn me a place in Hell, I’m grateful for the diversion.
We jump the waist-high fence atop the short slope to 41st Street. It’s the spot where people watched us the day we moved in. The people who were strangers, became neighbors, and who are now being slaughtered all around me. I drag in fresh air and try to feel relief that we all made it through, but Sacred Heart is killing everyone, and we’re as good as dead even as we breathe.
The garden is a melee of humans and zombies. More by the chess tables and courts. Three Lexers stumble near. Eric and Jorge each take one. The last is Jean, her braids matted to her head and eyes wild, and I pierce her temple with my chisel, glad there’s no time to dwell on it. I search in vain for her kids. For Grace or Eli. They could’ve left for the safe house, but I don’t think they would without us.
“How many men on 41st?” Eric asks. His hair is dark with sweat, and his eyes scan the slope, gauging the distance to our house and obstacles in our way. He doesn’t look optimistic.
“Four,” Indy says. “In a truck. And more by 5B.”
“Paul, you take Leo and them into the house.” Eric points at me, Indy, and Maria. “Go out the yards onto 40th. Jorge and I will cover you across 41st and follow after.”
Paul nods once, though his brow stays low. Splitting up is a bad idea. Leo leans for me, eyes bulging in terror, and I grip him to my chest. Better that Paul has his hands free, but I’m not leaving Eric behind, even if it’s only fifty feet. If we die, we die together.
Below the screaming and gunshots, I hear a distant yell of, “Sylvie! Indy!”
Grace. Beyond wandering Lexers, on the other side of the courts, she and Eli stand in the bed of the pickup, whose occupants are gone or dead. A bullet shatters the windshield, and they drop from view.
“They’ll meet us there,” Eric says. “They know where to go.”
I shake my head, as does Indy. “He won’t leave without me or Lucky.”
Jorge, down by the stone wall, calls, “Street’s clear! We gotta go now!”
In a swift move, Eric jumps to the other side of the fence. He glances over his shoulder, then turns to me, eyes a flinty green. “I’ll get them. You have to leave.”
“No, not—” I break off. The mob by the pool has turned, and the first of the pack stagger toward us. The others have to leave, but I’m staying. I attempt to hand Leo to Paul, but he burrows into my shoulder, legs locked so tight my hip bones grind.
Paul’s eyes flick from me to Leo, then he hurdles the fence and lands beside Eric. He touches Leo’s chin. “Be good for Sylvie. I’ll see you there.”
“No,” I say. It comes out a whisper rather than a shout.
Eric tries for a smile, but his every tell is on display—lip tucked, eyebrows creased. “See you there.”
This time I do shout, but they’re off and running. I watch them dodge the approaching zombies and disappear into the park, my body frozen at how quickly people can vanish when seconds ago we were together.
“Sylvie!” Maria calls.
Indy tugs me down the slope. The pickup has moved closer to Fift
h, where they shoot into the garden. Across the street, on the brick house’s balcony, Lucky, Micah, and Rissa aim at the men in the truck. It’s too far for pistols and will only get them shot in return.
“Lucien Michaels!” Indy shouts, and motions to our house. Lucky pushes Micah’s arm down and the three hurry inside.
At Jorge’s signal, we dart across the street into the garden apartment. Maria and Jorge retrieve their BOBs from the hall closet while Indy goes for hers. I rush upstairs for Clarence, grab Leo’s tiny bag, and, after split-second deliberation, take Eric’s BOB, too. They might get out another way. If they get out at all.
My eyes sting with angry tears that we have to choose one life over another. Lose Grace, or lose Eric, or lose Leo. Or, perhaps, lose everyone. I throw on my pack and drag the others down the stairs behind me. Bird doesn’t come to my desperate calls in the house or yard. He must be hiding, and I have no choice but to leave him, too.
Rissa exits the brick house with Micah and Lucky supporting Harold between them. “He was shot,” Micah says.
Micah’s coat is torn and filthy, but he’s okay. Okay enough to take Eric’s heavy bag and load it on his front. Maria examines the bandage around Harold’s leg, which is bloody but not soaked.
“Can you make it there before I look at it?” she asks him.
Harold nods, teeth gritted. Rissa grabs my sleeve on the way across the yards. “My brother?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
Rissa inhales deep, pushing her shoulders back. She wears her BOB and carries a gun, and she doesn’t ask anything more as we file into a house that faces 40th Street. The block is empty outside the chain link barriers on the windows, which might have saved us from being ambushed if we hadn’t invited our ambushers in.
Jorge opens the front door and nods for us to exit. The rat-a-tat-tat of a weapon from the park makes me jump. It could be bullets ripping into Eric or Grace, Paul or Eli, anyone at all.
Jorge sets his pack inside the door and reaches for Maria’s hand. “I’m going back in. I’ll get my bag on the way out.”
Instead of forbidding it as I hope, Maria nods, briefly closing her eyes. “Be careful. You know I love you?”
Jorge touches her cheek. “I know, Mimi. I love you, too.” He smiles at the rest of us, firms up his grip on his cleaver, and jogs back through the house.
The street is quiet. A block below, Fifth Avenue teems with activity at the outer gate. We make it to the sidewalk, Harold wincing with every step. Maria carries Leo, and Indy and I stay low in the center of the asphalt, guns pointed toward Fifth, while the others scurry into the parlor floor of a house across the street.
Indy and I follow, then whip around at the roar of an engine from Seventh. Men with guns stand in the bed of a coming pickup, and I recognize Kirk among them. As we reach the top of the stoop, the truck screeches to a stop and Kearney jumps to the street with pistol raised. Kearney. If I wasn’t already stunned, I might be shocked Walt lied about everything, even that. They were working together all along.
I left my deadlier pistol on the roof. Maybe my .22 won’t kill him at this distance, but if anyone has ever deserved a parting shot, it’s this motherfucker. His mouth opens under his mustache, and though I’d like to put a bullet in it, I aim for center mass and pull the trigger three times. He drops to his knees in the street, arms cradling his midsection. I duck inside as bullets rip into the doorframe, flinging chunks of wood and drowning out Kearney’s shouts, and then I follow the others.
Chapter 89
Eric
To reach Grace and Eli, we have to swing wide around the Lexers by the courts, then zigzag through frenzied people and eating zombies. There are fewer of the first and many more of the second. I slide in the innards of a body flayed open by hands and teeth, regain my footing, and run straight into Brother David. I’m a second away from stabbing him in the head when he grabs me by the arms.
“I’ve rounded up some people,” he pants, “but I’m not sure I can get them out.”
I glance at the pickup, though the cab blocks any view of Eli and Grace. “Where are they?”
“The greenhouse.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Go wait.”
Brother David smiles serenely. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on some serious drugs. “I’m looking for more. If I’m not back, and you can take them, don’t wait for me.”
Paul stabs a zombie who’s neared and then takes down another two. Ten more look up from where they’ve finished with a body and rise to their feet. I nod, and Brother David rushes off with his long weapon out like a bayonet. We circle around the ten coming and head for the pickup.
“Eli! Grace!” I shout. Bullets punch into the truck body from the direction of 6A. Paul and I dash behind a thick tree at the edge of the park. Eli’s eyes clear the side of the bed and spot us before he drops at the next volley.
Gate 6A is seventy feet to our left. Eight people stand on the semitrailer and watch the carnage unfold. Walt is there, positioned slightly behind the men in front with his arms crossed, and the bastard is smiling—a thin, cold smile more authentic than anything I’ve seen on him. This is the Walt who hid behind the façade of a scared little man, and I want to blow that smile off his face.
Paul and I fire simultaneously. It sends the group flat to the roof, where we can’t see if we’ve done damage or to whom. Eli and Grace take the opportunity to rise, though now a wall of Lexers separates us, heading for me and Paul.
“Sylvie, Indy, and Lucky are out!” I shout. “Safe house! Go!”
Eli nods once, gives a thumbs up, and takes Grace by the hand. They climb the cab of the pickup and slide down the hood, then run for 41st. It’s the best I can do—they’ll have to meet us there. Paul and I sprint past the trees for the greenhouse a hundred and fifty feet away.
The door is locked. Paul pounds on the glass. “It’s Paul and Eric!”
The door opens and we fall into a world of warmth and good earth and green things. Susan locks the door and Dennis lowers his gun while she scoops up Emily from where she was hidden beneath a table of vegetation.
“Did you see any of the boys?” Dennis asks. “Or Jean? I’m about to go out for them again.”
I think of how Sylvie’s chisel plunged into Jean’s temple and swallow hard. “I haven’t seen the boys, but Jean…”
Comprehension dawns on his face, hope altering to sagging lines and damp eyes. Susan leans her head against his shoulder with a soft cry. “I’ll find the boys,” he says.
“They’re picking people off out there,” Paul says. “You’ll die as soon as you get near the gate or pool or anywhere else.”
Dennis squares his shoulders. “I’m trying.”
Paul nods. He would try for Leo, no matter the chance of success.
The shrieks of chaos and throat-ripping deaths come through the glass. Occasional gunshots, too, though it seems Walt is letting the Lexers do his dirty work for him. Maybe that’s what he’s done all along. Maybe they thawed out Lexers, put them in a truck, and delivered them into Gary’s and Carlos’ laps. It could’ve been the trial run.
If I had nothing left to lose, I’d climb that truck and try to take him out. But I have too much to lose, and so does Paul, who followed me into the park and would likely follow me to Walt as long as he knows Leo is in good hands.
Someone crashes against the door, and Dennis opens it at Brother David’s voice. He enters with a bundle clasped to his chest. To my surprise and alarm, Jorge is with him.
“What happened?” I ask quickly, my heart thundering in my ears.
“They’re fine. Got them to 40th. The street was empty.”
I can breathe again, and Paul’s exhale is audible over the outside noise. If the worst happens to us, at least they’re safe.
“I couldn’t find anyone else.” Brother David loosens his grip on the bundle to reveal the baby, Jin. “Jorge got me out. I thought I saw Keith and Kenneth running
down the hill toward 5A, but I couldn’t get close.”
Keith is Susan’s younger boy and Kenneth is Dennis’. Dennis moves to the door with his knife in his left hand, drawing his gun with his right. A nasty gash on his head still oozes blood, but his movements are precise and focused.
“I’m coming,” Susan says. She looks to May, who stands with Chen. “Will you watch Em if—”
Susan breaks off when May nods, and then she sets Emily down and leans back, her hands gripping the shoulders of Emily’s red velvet dress. “Baby, I can’t leave Keith and Kenneth. You’ll go with May and Chen, like a play date, and I’ll meet you there.”
Emily clings to her mother. Susan raises her head, and the anguish on her face stabs at my heart. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers to us. “What should I do?”
I have no answer for her. Leave your son to die, leave your daughter motherless. Brother David places Jin in Jorge’s arms and moves to Susan’s side. He picks up Emily, and she wraps her arms around his neck the way she used to with Rob.
“As long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure she’s safe,” he says to Susan. “Go get your boy.”
Susan nods, eyes streaming. She kisses Emily on cheeks and forehead. “I love you, my beautiful girl. I’m not going because I want to leave you. Remember that.”
Emily nods automatically. I don’t think she understands, but she will when she’s older. If Susan never returns, I’ll remind her of this moment myself. If I’m still breathing.
Dennis and Susan leave out the far door, and we track them past the greenhouse, moving low near the park wall to avoid the Lexers who linger by the courts.
I take in the rest of the occupants: Aside from May and the two kids, there’s April, who crouches by a table, her usual boldness reduced to runny eyeliner and slack lips. Elena and her young children. Lincoln, who is always pale but now looks bleached. It’s no wonder Brother David needed help.
Past the pool and rec center, over a hundred feet away, two men stand in a pickup at the Seventh Avenue park entrance, ignoring the few Lexers on the ground. Past the truck is the school, which we could travel through to safety. Behind us is the rest of the park, the Lexers, and guns.