The Redemption Trilogy Read online

  Rachel was waiting at the door when she came up.

  “We can’t clean the place until this door is closed.”

  Meg thought about it for second and nodded. Silently, she collected blankets and, with Rachel’s help, covered the gaps around the basement door. When they were done, Jason began the grisly task of spraying down the bay. Rachel and Meg cracked the shutters just enough to let the mess out onto the street.

  When the water ran clear, Jason shut off the nozzle. They waited in silence, staring at the dripping walls. Meg looked at all the wet posters and photographs now splotchy and stained. The group photographs that she was in hung lower on the wall than the others, since it was one of the newer ones. The frames were cracked and the glass broken in almost all of them.

  Spare axes and turnout coats lay scattered against the walls. The stack of cots dripped water and, as Meg watched, slowly slid down the wall until they tumbled into a heap of sticks and wet canvas.

  It looked like a bomb had gone off on the app floor.

  “We should close the shutters,” Rachel said at last.

  “Yeah.”

  Meg reached for the chain and slowly put the door back down. She thought about heading upstairs to crash in the engineer’s room, but she paused. A crackling sound came to her ears from outside. Meg panicked and raced away from the shutters.

  “What is it?” Jason yelled up to her. “Are they back?”

  “Yes. I—No. No! That’s gunfire! There’s someone out there!”

  — 26 —

  Upper East Side, Manhattan

  Jed was thinking he’d picked the right job after all. Being up on point, he might be the first to get it. But it’d be over quick at least. Except he didn’t see it happening like that. Not with that big chain of civilians all lined up behind him.

  The LT was the second man in line, with the civilians teamed up in groups of three behind him. Corribol was at the rear with Jed’s M16. They staggered their movement, leapfrogging the civilian groups down the blocks. Sometimes Jed would see movement in a skyscraper, but he could never be sure. Everything looked like flashes of pale flesh in the fading afternoon light. But it was quiet, and since nothing was jumping out and tearing him up, it seemed like they’d make it out okay. Just a few more blocks to go and they’d be at the rally point. Central Park was right up ahead.

  A series of shrieks put Jed up against the wall of the nearest building. He had the SAW up, but the damn thing was heavy, and he needed to find a support for the bipod fast. A taxi was up on the curb just a little way back, but the LT was already there with the first group of civilians. Corribol had the other groups running to catch up.

  Jed jerked his head left and right, then up, over and over again. No way was he going to let them sneak up on him. Not when he had a SAW in his hands.

  Goddamn zombies. Monsters. Shit, I don’t care what you are. You are not getting Jedediah Monroe Welch today.

  He spotted them as they launched from the second floor of the skyscraper he had just passed, the one next to the LT’s position. Corribol and the other civilians had just come up to join the LT’s group. At least a dozen of the monsters jumped from the broken windows and straight down onto the LT, Corribol, and the civilians. Screams and shouts and gunfire mixed to shatter the weird silence that had taken over New York City.

  For a moment, Jed just watched it happen. The monsters biting and ripping with their claws. People screamed and fell to the sidewalk. The LT shot one just as another leaped onto him from the building. Corribol had two of them down before he was taken out by another pair jumping from the windows.

  Jed swallowed the scream that was building. The horror and screams faded in his ears as he felt the SAW bucking in his hands.

  The LT went down, then the first few civilians. Jed was doing them a favor. The monsters had jumped right on them, and Jed saw the LT get bit. Tears flowed fast and hot down Jed’s face, but he kept firing. Burst after burst put the monsters down, thrashing and clawing at the bullet holes peppering their chests. Finally, Jed went cyclic and sprayed the mass of writhing bodies, monsters and victims alike. He could have let them live, but they’d have been killed later anyway. Or turned into monsters themselves.

  Corribol was already twitching on the ground when Jed put a burst into the soldier’s chest.

  This is what you did. You protected yourself, so I’m just doing the same thing now.

  Jed let up for a second, scanning the bodies down the street. A few of them moved, then Jed realized they were the monsters, sucking on the people they’d just killed.

  Jed fired again until he didn’t see anything moving.

  Anything that wasn’t Jed Welch was as good as dead. But Jed didn’t feel much alive inside of himself either.

  I gotta get out. Gotta go. Get out of here. Get safe. Free. Away.

  He didn’t even know he’d been running until he came up short against a concrete barrier. Someone shouted to him from his left and he spotted a soldier with a weapon standing inside a smashed-up storefront.

  “Yo, c’mon. Get on in here. You got ammo for that SAW?”

  Jed ducked around the busted glass and stepped over the ruined window display. The guy who’d called him into the store was a black dude, thin like a beanpole and with a goofy grin stretched across his mouth. “My name’s Bree,” he said, holding out a hand. Jed ignored it and just jutted his chin at the guy as he came inside.

  He still felt dizzy from killing the monsters.

  And the people.

  Jed stumbled into the store and nearly tripped over a mannequin wearing a purple blouse and those short shorts Jed used to like so much. Looking at them now didn’t make him feel anything, though.

  “We callin’ her Hoeisha,” Bree said, laughing like any of the nervous tweakers Jed used to run with. He kept the SAW up close to his belly, out of instinct. Something about the soldier in front of him didn’t sit right. Jed sniffed and wiped a hand under his nose fast before grabbing the SAW again and holding it tight.

  “Welch,” he said.

  “Welch. Cool, man, cool. Like I said, I’m Bree. Back here I got Marks, Sharpe, and Hardly.”

  “The name’s Harney,” another soldier said with a drawl that reminded Jed of home. A trio of guys were hanging out behind the cash register. The guy named Harney was a white dude like Jed. Could have been from Georgia himself, but definitely down south somewhere. The other two, Marks and Sharpe, were probably New Yorkers all their life. Some kind of mixed-race guys, skin that looked like it might be brown or maybe it was just the shadows, Jed couldn’t tell. All four of the guys had M16s and held them by the butt stocks or carry handles, almost like they didn’t have a use for them anymore.

  Jed stepped deeper into the shop and turned to face the window, holding the SAW across his chest. “Who y’all with?”

  “We ain’t with nobody,” Bree said. “Less you mean ourselves. We what’s left of Civil Affairs,” Bree said. “Got chewed the fuck up on Queens Boulevard. Barely made it over the bridge and didn’t get more’n three blocks. Bunch of civilians cramming up the roadway there, trying to get out of Manhattan.”

  “We told ’em this was the safe zone,” Harney said.

  “Yeah, and did they listen? Nope,” said one of the other guys. Jed didn’t know if it was Marks or Sharpe, but he didn’t much care right then. Bree had a look in his eye that told Jed they’d done something like he had. Run off probably.

  Or maybe these are the guys who shot all those people in the cars? Why would they do that, unless…

  Jed figured he should say something, anything to keep cool with these guys. If they’d bailed out like he had, that was one thing. He’d even understand if they’d had to shoot people to keep from getting infected themselves. But if they’d gone crazy and just started shooting people for the hell of it…

  Jed moved farther into the shop, away from the window and a little farther from Bree. Something about the guy’s face told Jed that Bree wasn’t being strai
ght about everything. And he got a sick feeling in his gut that he shouldn’t have come into the storefront in the first place.

  Only one way to find out. Get ’em talkin’ and see what they say.

  That had been his dad’s rule about people, the only thing Jed had to remember the man by.

  “What’s the plan? Shit’s fucked up out there.”

  “Yeah, I’d heard,” one of the New York guys said. Dude was tall, like Bree, and had a funny looking nose, like on those old puppets made out of paper and painted all kinds of colors. He had big lips and a lazy right eye that pointed off to the side of his face.

  “C’mon now, Marks,” Bree said. “Man’s just in out of the storm. Got that SAW, too.”

  Jed caught it that time. Bree kept eyeing the SAW, and he got a hungry look in his eyes when he mentioned it. Jed held the weapon up tighter and let his finger go loose around the trigger guard so he was ready to fire if he had to.

  “I was with the 401st,” he said. “We had some civvies in a bus back there at the bridge. But we couldn’t get into Manhattan on the trucks. Bunch of cars were all smashed together there. Some people got shot just driving. I figure they must have been infected or something. You see that when you came through?”

  “Nah,” Bree said quick. “Must’ve been right after we got over the bridge. Told you all them civilians was driving out of Manhattan. Bet that was them.”

  If Bree was holding wild cards in his hand, he was playing better than Jed ever had. He still couldn’t figure if the guy was being straight with him or not. Something was up with the dude, and Jed felt like time was running out to get the truth. Daylight was fading, and he did not want to be stuck in a ruined storefront with these guys over night.

  “Rally point was supposed to be up here somewhere, wasn’t it?”

  Bree gave him a look and Jed figured it out in half a beat.

  Supposed to be.

  A lot of shit was supposed to be for Jed when he got back to New York City. But watching a damn zombie plague eat the place alive wasn’t part of the bargain. Getting stuck with a bunch of dirtbags wasn’t much better.

  “So, we just chilling here? What are we doing?”

  “We’re fucking dying, dude,” Marks said.

  “Yeah,” Sharpe added. “Maybe you didn’t see it, but the city’s fucked. The Army’s fucked. The Marines are fucked. I guess the Navy’s all right, but that’s because the fucking Squids are out on their boats. Not here in the shit waiting for a damn zombie to jump on their ass and start slamming away like it’s fucking prom night.”

  “Dude, will you please shut up,” Harney said. “I’ve had about enough of your mouth.”

  “Yo,” Bree cut in on the fight before it got started. “Keep that shit in your pants ’til you find a toilet.”

  “So you’re in charge now?” Jed asked.

  “Yeah,” Bree said.

  Jed hadn’t spotted his rank before, and he didn’t see any on him now. His tab was missing. Guy was probably bullshitting, but the other dudes weren’t up in arms about it.

  The echo of gunfire from out on the street rattled into the storefront, putting every man on alert. Jed stayed to the side, but kept the SAW up. A flash of movement in front of the store startled him and he sent a burst out through the broken remains of the window. Glass shattered and pinged off the other shards already on the shop floor.

  “Cease fire! Cease fire!” someone yelled from outside. “Friendly!”

  Bree was up close to Jed and put a hand up for him to cease fire. “Yo, hold up with the SAW, Welch. Hold up. Save that ammo.” Bree went forward with his rifle at the ready. He called out, “Hey, who’s out there? We Civil Affairs.”

  “US Marines. Lance Corporal Maloof. I got three guys with me. We’re coming in.”

  Jed lowered the SAW as the four Marines came into the storefront. They managed to get in without tripping over the mannequin. Bree greeted the first guy to come in. He said he was Maloof, and he introduced the other men.

  “Pinzler, Tracy, and Stevens.”

  They were all white dudes. Maloof gave a few words of command and the three Marines formed a perimeter at the front of the shop. They lifted their weapons and scanned the area, taking in every inch of the scene. One of them stayed facing out to the street, roving his muzzle back and forth while the other two switched between watching the street and watching Bree and his guys.

  “The rally point is moved two blocks away,” Maloof said. “There’s a fire station there that’s supposed to have survivors. We just got word from your actual on that.”

  “You got radio to them?” Bree asked.

  Maloof nodded and patted a hand-mike slung over his shoulder.

  Jed didn’t miss the cagey look that went over Bree’s face.

  I bet these guys did do something really fucked up to get away back on the boulevard. Like worse than running away fucked up.

  “We’re heading to the fire station,” Maloof said. “Who’s in charge here?”

  He looked at Jed when he asked the question, but Bree spoke up before Jed could say anything.

  “That’s me.”

  “You’re an NCO?”

  “Yeah, E-4. Corporal.”

  Maloof didn’t buy it, that was clear. And Jed didn’t either. Bree might be E-4, but he was a Specialist at best.

  “Who do you want on point, Corporal?” Maloof asked, and Jed could see he was fucking with Bree, trying to catch him out. When Bree didn’t answer right away, Maloof saved them all the trouble.

  “We’ll put Stevens up front. Your squad can take the middle, Corporal. Me and my guys’ll cover the rear. Stevens, move out.”

  Jed watched the Marine step to the shattered window and check the street. He was gone a beat later, outside and out of sight. Jed heard his footsteps crunching through broken glass on the sidewalk.

  “Let’s go,” Maloof said. “You on the SAW, what’s your name?”

  “Welch. I used to be in the suck before this. Got picked up by Army Civil Affairs.”

  “It isn’t the suck, Marine. It’s the Corps. You move out with us.”

  Bree and the other guys looked like they would try to fight it, but Maloof held himself like an NCO, and gave orders like one. Bree waved at Sharpe, Marks, and Harney to join him by the window. Jed went to stand with Tracy and Pinzler. They followed Maloof out after Bree and the other Army guys left and, not for the first time that day, Jed found himself happy to be back with other Marines.

  Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Only one way to find out, and that’s to keep on keepin’ on.

  Jed let that chant run through his mind as he followed Maloof’s team down the street. Up ahead, about twenty meters, Stevens moved through the ruined mess of broken glass and smashed up cars, switching his aim left and right with every step. Jed hefted the SAW and did the same, watching high then low, and praying he wouldn’t have to squeeze the trigger again until they were all safe inside somewhere.

  — 27 —

  Upper East Side, Manhattan

  Meg ran back to the shutters and climbed up to look out the window. Three soldiers were out there, facing off against a single monster in the middle of the street. It skittered back and forth on its claws, like it was trying to keep them penned in. One of them lowered his weapon and flinched, then turned back to look over his shoulder.

  The monster on the street flew forward and tackled the man, right in between the other two soldiers. Meg slammed a fist against the steel shutter.

  “Who’s out there?” Jason said, coming up beside her.

  “The Army. Soldiers. I don’t know!”

  They both watched through the window as the two remaining soldiers killed the monster and the man it had brought down. Then the soldiers moved out of sight, coming across the street and in their direction.

  More gunfire crackled from somewhere nearby. Then shouted commands and yelling. One of the soldiers outside ran into the street and was waving at someone. Meg tried to get a
look at who he was signaling, but her attention was ripped away by Jason whispering, “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  A swarm of the monsters poured out of the buildings across the street. Meg’s breath caught in her throat as the other soldier she’d seen stepped into the street and started shooting at the monsters. But there were so many.

  There’s no way he’ll hit them all. Those men are going to die.

  — 28 —

  Upper East Side, Manhattan

  The fire station was just two blocks up, Maloof had said. Those were the longest two blocks of Jed’s life. He could just make out Stevens up at the front, moving in a crouch and darting his muzzle up and down, left and right, as he went. Every few paces, he’d give the signal to hold up while he rushed ahead a bit. Then he’d backpedal and wave them forward.

  Every time they stopped, Jed reimagined the monsters jumping from the windows to take out the civilians and the LT. But nothing came down on top of them. Maloof had put him at the very rear, behind Tracy and Pinzler, so at least he could get away again if he had to.

  “Keep that SAW up, Welch. And watch our rear.”

  At the next corner, Jed spotted the fire station halfway down the block, in between two high rises. The station faced a street that T-boned into the block. A fire truck sat halfway around the corner of the side street; the truck had smashed into the nose of a car there.

  Stevens crouched at the near end of the fire truck with Bree and the others just a few meters behind him, all hiding behind a smashed up taxi cab that the truck must have creamed. Maloof, Tracy, and Pinzler held up a little bit behind those guys; they hunkered down around an SUV the fire truck had swiped before it hit the cab. Red paint streaked the taxi and SUV in long lines that looked a lot like blood, only it didn’t drip down the side.

  Jed sat on his heels with his back against a newspaper stand on the sidewalk. He tried to get a look at Stevens, hoping the guy would move out to the fire station so they could get off this damn street.