Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

Connor’s breath came in scraping gasps as he sprinted across Monterey Avenue.

“The bank!” Seffie shouted.

Connor saw it on the corner: a squat Bank of America building. Low enough that they could get to the roof, but high enough that they could escape the horde. He glanced over at Mike.

Mike wasn’t there.

Connor skidded to a halt and turned back. Mike was down on one knee, still by the motel down the road, trying to shake off two zombies. If they got him down, he was done for.

Without thinking, Connor ran back. From his peripheral vision he could see zombies—tens of them, soon maybe hundreds—spilling out from the parking lots and abandoned buildings of this semi-industrial strip of old San Jose. They were closing in from all sides, stalking their prey with an inexorable herky-jerky momentum.

He swung the crowbar against the skull of the zombie on Mike’s back. Both Mike and the zombie sprawled forward, knocked down to the pavement from the force of the blow. Connor took aim at the other zombie—the one holding fast to Mike’s arm as it gnawed on his elbow. When the crowbar connected, Mike yanked his arm away, shrugging off the zombie on his back as he rose. His jacket, still tangled in the fists of the dead zombies, began to tear.

“Behind you!”

Connor didn’t look, just swung as he turned. He hit the first zombie in the chest. As it staggered back, he shoved the sharp end of the bar into another’s face.

Mike fell in beside Connor, the early evening sun glinting off the stainless steel chain mail exposed by the rips in his jacket. Seffie was gone, turned the corner already. They ran flat out, dodging and swatting away the grasping, twisted hands, not trying to kill because that would slow them down.

“Over here!” Seffie shouted, waving her arms above her head, her voice almost panicked. Connor saw her eyes get wider. He did not need to look back. The growing volume of moans at his back told him everything.

Seffie looked tiny next to the three square brick columns supporting the low roof over a row of defunct ATMs. Mike leaned down when they reached her, weaving his hands together to create a step. Almost as soon as Seffie’s foot hit his hands, she was airborne, tossed up on the roof like a doll. Connor performed the same service for Mike with a groan and none of Mike’s grace, providing just enough lift so that Mike could catch the roof’s lip. Connor stepped under his kicking feet, guiding them to his shoulders, his spine compressing under Mike’s weight.

The sight that had widened Seffie’s eyes now widened Connor’s own. There were hundreds of zombies shuffling into the intersection, curling around the corner from Monterey Avenue like water around a stone.

“Come on, man, let’s go.”

Connor looked up. Mike’s perfect white teeth glinted against his blue-black skin. His muscled arms extended down. Connor crouched, then jumped, stretching his arms high. Mike snagged him just past the elbows, his huge hands dwarfing Connor’s biceps. Connor scrabbled his feet against the column, seeking whatever tiny purchase the mortar between the bricks offered. He felt a sliding weight against his boot heel, a hand not quite able to catch hold and hang on, as Mike pulled him up to safety.

Connor collapsed onto the hot blacktop and gravel roof. Heat radiated through his battered canvas backpack, clothing and chain mail, broiling his already roasting skin. He felt itchy, exhausted, and grateful to be alive.

“And I thought we were screwed in Salinas,” he gasped.

“Tell me about it,” Mike answered.

Seffie’s voice was filled with irritation. “You two need to come over here, away from the edge.”

Connor lifted his head. Seffie had retreated to the main building roof. He followed Mike over to where she sat.

“Don’t tell me you’d miss me,” Connor said to her.

“Hardly,” she snorted. She swiped at the sweat on her flat, Pekinese-like face with the blue bandana that was usually wrapped around her head. “We’re what, half a mile short?”

Connor stood up and squinted through the shimmering waves of heat rippling up from road and rooftops, barely visible as dusk approached. It couldn’t be more than half a mile to the huge concrete wall that demarcated the boundary of modern San Jose. The road itself was clear of vehicles beyond the intersection where they were stranded. Every car, truck, and SUV had been moved off to the side and stacked two or three high, almost all the way to the gate. The road lay open like an invitation, but a smattering of zombies wandered on both sides of the vehicle barrier. For every one you could see, there was sure to be at least five more you could not.

“I can see the gate and a whole lot of zombies.” Connor sighed.

“How do they keep the city secure with this many so close?” said Mike.

Connor shrugged as he sat down again. Seffie’s face twisted into its habitual scowl.

“It’ll be dark soon, and we still have one flare. We could shoot it and see if they’ll come get us,” Connor suggested.

“Would you come out to get people you don’t know?” Seffie asked. Almost immediately, both she and Mike added, “Don’t answer that.”

Connor didn’t need the reminder. He knew he was the Boy Scout of the group. Seffie and Mike were far too pragmatic to risk their necks for people they did not know without a damn good reason. Whoever was manning that wall was probably the same.

“I have a few grenades left,” Mike said. “Let’s lay low for an hour or two, let the horde settle. If it clears up at all, we make a break for it. Shoot the flare so they know we’re coming, and it’ll give us some light. Use the grenades if it gets crowded. If we’re lucky, we’ll make it. It’s only half a mile.”

It was risky, but Mike was right. They did not have a radio or a vehicle or even bicycles. They’d run out of water over a day ago. It was now or never. Connor stuffed his battered canvas backpack under his head before shading his eyes with the crook of his arm.

“You weigh a fucking ton, dude,” he said to Mike.

“I played linebacker for NAVY. I’m supposed to weigh a ton.”

“Twenty years ago, maybe,” said Seffie.

“Now don’t be like that, little girl,” Mike said, gently teasing.

Seffie flashed a rare smile. “I’ll be any way I want, you old geezer.”

Zombies still milled around the bank several hours later, but far fewer than before. Connor wasn’t worried about getting through the close ones. It was what they might encounter farther down the road that concerned him. Making a break for it in unfamiliar territory was always dangerous. Trying it in the dark… He didn’t let himself think about the odds. The glow of electric lights shimmering against the night sky, safely ensconced behind San Jose’s walls, felt like a dare. Were they brave enough—desperate enough—to take it?

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the throbbing headache behind his eyes. The pain flared whenever he turned his head, a sure sign of dehydration. He eased himself over the lip of the roof, hung for a moment, then let go. At six feet plus the length of his arms, the ten-foot drop was easy. Seffie shimmied over feet first. Connor caught her legs and let her slide down against him. Mike got down on his own, just as Connor had.

The closest zombies began to stir as they moved away. Connor adjusted his grip on the crowbar and glanced back the way they had come. Most of the zombies that had surrounded them earlier were back around the corner, milling in place. At least, that’s what it looked like. It was hard to tell in the dark.

They trotted through the intersection and passed the first set of shops before the moans began. A low, thin sound that began near the bank. Then it spread, hopped, amplified.

“Let’s pick it up,” Mike said.

As Seffie started to jog, Connor saw the first shapes moving in the dark beyond the stacked cars, far more than he had feared. More adrenaline flooded his system, tightening his chest and making his heart race.

“Shoot the flare,” he said to Mike.

“Not yet,” Mike answered.

They ran faster as they skirted a three-car-length gap in the barrier where zombies spilled into the road. From side streets and alleys, from the vast vacant tracts of land behind tumbledown chain-link fences, came stumbling, moaning figures.

“Shoot the fucking flare, Mike,” Seffie hissed.

Mike lifted his arm. Connor heard a soft pop. A moment later, soft pink light illuminated the sky and Connor’s heart sank.

There were more gaps in the stacked car barrier. Zombies were spilling into the roadway. There were even two climbers, something Connor had rarely seen, tumbling off the barrier before staggering to their feet.