The Redemption Trilogy Page 4

  Or maybe you could get eaten alive.

  She let the piece of glass fall from her hand and shatter on the patio beside her feet. Tim was dead, he had to be. And so were the neighbors. Ripped apart by monsters that shouldn’t exist. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Who could she help when even that cop and the guy with an assault rifle weren’t able to defend themselves from these things?

  Meg heard gunshots nearby, and more shrieks from the monsters. They sounded inhuman, like animals, but not any kind of animal Meg had ever heard before. She glanced at the neighbor’s place. Through their patio door she could see bodies on their bedroom floor. Splattered blood dripped from the glass door. As Meg watched, a spray of blood covered the glass, and then another. Meg reeled away and ducked down behind the shrubs that divided the yards. More gunshots came from the street outside, and shouting that sounded like someone from the army was out there.

  “Corporal Parvil! Take Sims, and Olafoe. Clear that side. High and low, watch the rooftops. Cantrell, Jackson, on me. Clear this street and rally at the trucks.”

  Meg heard a chorus of grunts that sounded like agreements. Should she go out and ask for help? What if they thought she was one of the monsters and shot her?

  Her grandmother’s mantra came back to her again. “You’re good.”

  With a shaking hand, Meg reached for the broken glass again. But it was all little pieces now. Useless as a weapon unless she was going to use it on herself.

  No! You’re good, Meg. You’re good.

  She stayed hidden. Then she poked her head out from around the bushes and pulled back fast. She hadn’t seen any soldiers on the street or in neighboring yards. Or any monsters. But she could hear them a few yards over. And they were in her neighbor’s house just behind her.

  They are monsters now. They’re not your neighbors anymore.

  Meg stepped out of her hiding place, keeping her hands in front of her and flicking her gaze to either side as she moved. She lifted her foot for one more step when she heard shattering glass from a patio door nearby. A shriek cut the air and gunfire followed. Meg ducked down and ran, following the wall of their house. She kept her head down, but tried to get a look at where the soldiers might have gone.

  She moved down the driveway and spotted the soldiers across the street. Meg kept moving, looking back the way she’d come and then quickly at the street again, until she came to a stop behind their garbage cans. Three soldiers moved on the other side of the street, crouched low and with their weapons aimed up and at eye level. They switched their aim as they moved, up and down, at the rooftops and back to their level on the street. One of them raced up to a door that had been broken in and shouted something into the house. Then he lifted something from his belt and threw it inside.

  Seconds later Meg flinched as an explosion sent glass and dust flying out of the windows of the house. The soldiers all rushed inside and Meg heard gunfire. Flashes of light flickered in the windows of the house. She was so transfixed she almost missed hearing the scraping and clicking sounds behind her. Meg spun around. Tim was clawing his way toward her.

  But he wasn’t the man she used to know. Not anymore.

  Tim’s once bronzed flesh had gone almost chalky white. His fingers had grown into claws that scratched on the concrete, and his face—

  Oh, God, what happened to you, Tim?

  — 6 —

  Elmhurst, Queens

  Up at the front door, Chips was popping caps at something outside. He fired through a little square peephole that was cut into the door. The window next to the door was boarded up, but it had a panel, about the same size as the hole Chips was shooting through. Jed went up next to Chips and opened the panel. One of the zombie things was out there, snarling and spitting. It had blood all down its front, and its clothes were shredded, like it had been locked in a bear cage.

  But its face… Jed couldn’t get the image out of his mind, the sucker mouth dripping with spit and blood, and those little needle teeth.

  Chips kept busting rounds out the peephole in the door but he couldn’t get a good bead on the thing outside. It moved so fast, all jerky and quick, and with its joints clicking and popping like a socket wrench. In a flash it jumped forward and slammed against the door, knocking Chips’ gun out of his hand. He ducked down to grab it and yelled at Jed.

  “Fucking shoot it! Shoot it!”

  Jed slotted the Glock into the hole in the board and tried to line up the monster in his sights. It was still right up on the door, scratching at the wood with its claws. Jed could see the thing’s pale white skin, and its muscles stretched tight like cables around its freaky joints. Every time it moved an arm or a leg, it made that same sickening clicking sound. Jed angled the Glock at it and got off two shots that only pissed it off, just running furrows across its back. Chips was back up and aimed through his peephole. He put one into the monster’s head right over its left eye. The head snapped back and the thing went over onto the front walk.

  Jed’s ears were ringing like mad. He could hardly make out what Chips was saying. His mouth was moving, but all Jed heard was something like Go shit. Then Chips had a hand on Jed’s shoulder and was spinning him aside. Chips closed the peephole Jed had used and then looked out the one in the door again.

  After a few minutes of watching the street, Chips closed his peephole. Jed’s ears were settling down a bit, but the steady hum lingered in the background.

  “Fucking shit, man,” Chips said. “Fucking shit. We gotta get back to my brothers, man. You… Yo, Jed!”

  Jed was just staring at the peephole in the door, afraid that any second it would come busting in and one of the monsters would chew his face off.

  “Yeah, man. Yeah,” he said.

  “You wanna get with the fuckin’ program, homie? We gotta go.”

  Chips reached for the doorknob and Jed automatically raised the Glock to cover the entrance. His ears were still ringing bad, but he felt something kick in right then. They’d trained on clearing buildings back in the Corps. He knew what to do.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah, man. Go on three.”

  Chips counted and wrenched the door open on three. Jed swept the Glock left to right, but the street was empty. The dead thing on the front walk was still dead. Jed forced himself not to look at it and just keep his eyes on the street outside.

  “Looks clear man,” he said.

  “You go first, homie. What’s that called? Point?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool. You on point.”

  Chips patted Jed on the shoulder and stepped back so he was in line with him. Jed felt Chips’ aim over his right shoulder, so he kept his eyes on their left as they stepped out of the house and around the dead thing on the walk.

  “Home is up the street,” Chips said. “About four blocks and then left.”

  Jed nodded and grunted to let Chips know he’d heard him. Then they moved out, first at a slow jog and then picking it up to a sprint when they saw the crawling shapes of monsters on the rooftops down the street, back the way they’d come from the corner store.

  At least they’re behind us.

  A howl went up from the monsters back there, then a shriek followed by what sounded to Jed like a stampede of really big and really angry cats. The clattering of claws and feet on shingles and the tops of cars echoed down the street as Jed and Chips ran like the wind. The things didn’t seem to have a line of sight on them, or maybe they did. Jed threw a glance over his shoulder. The monsters crawled over everything, cars, lawns, rooftops. Even if they hadn’t spotted Jed and Chips yet, they were definitely coming along their path.

  Right before the end of the block, Chips tugged on Jed’s shirt and they went into a yard, ducking behind a row of bushes.

  “They see us?” Chips asked.

  “Fuck, man. I don’t know. Why we stopping? We gotta run.”

  “Shortcut. This way.”

  Chips led them around the back of the house. Two boards in
the fence had been pulled out to make a path. They raced through it to the other side of the block, coming out between two little houses that were boarded up just like the safe house. But Jed could tell these weren’t places they could hide. Old mattresses littered the back yard of one of the houses, along with empty syringes and old condoms. Jed couldn’t wait to get away from the place, but Chips put up a hand for him to chill.

  “I’ma go check the street. Watch behind us, man.”

  Chips went up ahead, looking left and right once he got to the front of the house.

  “See anything?” Jed asked.

  “Nah, man. Looks good.”

  Jed moved up fast and joined Chips. They stepped out from beside the house and moved to the sidewalk. A little farther down the street, every house had broken windows and streaks of blood around the doors.

  “Let’s go, man,” Jed said, nudging Chips’ shoulder.

  They moved out at a jog again, picking up speed as they went. The noises of the monsters from one block over kept echoing around the neighborhood. Now and then Jed heard a human scream mixed in with the snarling and howling of the monsters. It was all on the next block, but Jed still didn’t dare look behind them. He and Chips just ran full tilt until they got to Chips’ apartment building. They ducked behind a hedge and ran along the wall outside the pool area. Chips pulled up at the end of the hedge and scrambled for the top of the wall. Jed went to stuff the Glock into his pants but was afraid he’d blow his own junk off, so he waited until Chips was up top so he could hand the piece up.

  He got up the wall and down the other side where Chips was waiting with the Glock held out.

  “Not bad, homie. You run like that when 5-0 comes after us, you gonna do fine with my crew.”

  Jed almost said he was done with the idea of being in Chips’ crew, because he was getting the fuck out of New York now that the zombies were here. But Chips was already walking off around the pool, digging into his pocket for his keys. Jed listened to the neighborhood and scanned the buildings around them. He didn’t see any broken windows or smears of blood.

  Things seemed cool. As cool as they could be since Jed didn’t hear any screams nearby, and the howls and shrieks of the monsters all seemed to be going away from them. But he didn’t hear much else either. No cars driving by, no kids yelling in the yards. Then he caught the snaps of small arms fire, and louder explosions like grenades echoing from a few blocks away, maybe farther. Chips had stopped outside the door to his apartment. His eyes locked onto Jed’s, like he’d heard it, too.

  “That the army?” Chips asked. “See, they gonna take care of the zombies, man. It’s cool.”

  “Yeah, maybe so. We should get inside anyway.”

  Chips opened the door and went inside. Before Jed could get there, the door closed with a bang. He went up to the door carefully and listened. He could hear a TV or a radio, but then it cut out. Jed had the Glock out. He scanned the pool area and the nearby buildings. He didn’t hear or see anything except the occasional pop-pop-pop of small arms.

  Jed had his back to the door. He lifted a hand to knock over his shoulder when the door opened behind him. Jed went to turn around but felt something sharp and cold stick him in the back.

  — 7 —

  South Jamaica, Queens

  Blood leaked from Tim’s sickly yellow eyes, and his mouth had formed into a sucker, just like the man in their house. As he moved, Meg heard the joints in his arms and legs crackling like embers popping from a fire. A scream started in Meg’s throat, but came out as a choked gasp when one of their neighbors came around the corner of the house. It was the husband. He had blood all over him, but he walked like a normal human.

  Tim flinched and spun around, facing the man.

  “She was my wife, you fucking animal!” the man roared at Tim.

  “Don’t—” Meg shouted, but the man had already moved. He jumped at Tim with his face twisted up in a snarl of fury. The man screamed and grabbed at Tim’s face with both hands as the two fell together and rolled in a tangle up against the wall. Meg staggered back with one hand wrapped around her middle and the other hand up in front of her mouth. She knew she should help, but couldn’t bring herself to move an inch closer.

  The neighbor and Tim grappled and it looked like the man might have the upper hand. His fingers dug into Tim’s cheeks, holding the monstrous mouth away from the man’s flesh. Then Tim sliced a clawed hand across the man’s ribs and Meg gave a startled cry as blood sprayed out and spattered the wall of their house.

  It was over a few seconds later. The man lost his grip on Tim’s face, and Meg stared in horror as the thing that was her husband latched his sucker mouth onto their neighbor’s throat.

  Moments later, Tim stopped and flicked his tongue out from between puffy, blood stained lips. Rows of sharp teeth seemed to click together in his mouth, like needles.

  He shrieked at her. Then Tim lifted his arm to his mouth and bit down hard, his mouth collapsing around his flesh and sucking. Blood welled and ran down his flesh in dark rivulets.

  Meg screamed and ran, falling over her feet and tumbling toward the sidewalk. She heard gunfire again, and what sounded like another small explosion from nearby. Meg caught herself against the curb and rolled onto her side so she could jump up and run. Behind her she heard Tim howling and shrieking, and the gunfire continued. Meg turned around in time to see a police officer in SWAT gear holding an assault rifle. The officer fired and a string of bullet holes appeared across Tim’s chest; blood sprouted like blossoms and sprayed out his back to stain the wall of their house even more.

  Her will and strength and everything she’d ever believed in fell away in that moment. Watching Tim be taken from her had been horrifying. Seeing what he had become, and watching him die a second time… Meg fell on her side, dropped flat to the ground, and huddled against the curb whimpering and wailing her pain onto the concrete and pavement.

  “Ma’am!” a man’s voice shouted at her from the street.

  Meg cried and screamed as her chest shook under her sobs. She beat a fist against the street and shouted Tim’s name.

  “Ma’am! Are you okay? Are you infected? Ma’am!”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay! My husband is dead!” Meg shouted back at whoever was yelling at her. The man was nearby. She could hear his footsteps get closer, but she didn’t care what he wanted or who he was. Meg moaned and cried and slapped her hand on the street now, feeling the rough stone surface cut against her palm.

  “Ma’am? Are you bitten? Have you come into contact with infected blood?”

  Meg opened her eyes and saw a pair of boots through her tears. She lifted her hand slowly and wiped at her eyes. The person in front of her was a soldier, and he had his gun aimed right at her face.

  “What the fuck?” Meg screamed, flipping onto her back and putting her hands out in front of her.

  “Ma’am, calm down. Are you bitten? Have you been in contact with any of the infected?” He was a dark-skinned young man, with warm brown eyes. Even with the look of fear on his face, Meg felt safe near him.

  The tears came back and Meg blubbered through her sobs. “No, I’m not bit—bitten. My husband—”

  Meg closed her eyes and cried, letting her hands fall to her sides as she sat against the curb. She felt a hand on her shoulder, then another on her ankles. Something went around her feet and pulled tight. She panicked when she realized she couldn’t move her legs, but they had her hands.

  She twisted in their grip, but they pulled her up and onto a stretcher. Meg gave up. What use was there in fighting? Tim had become a monster and was killed. The neighbors were dead. Everyone was dead, and the world was ending. She let the soldiers wrap restraining straps around her so she couldn’t move from the stretcher.

  Two people picked up the stretcher and Meg felt herself being carried away from the house. Away from Tim’s mutilated body.

  They lifted her into the back of a truck and Meg smelled the thick scent of diese
l exhaust mixed with oiled canvas. A soldier sat down on a bench beside her head and leaned close to her.

  “Can you speak, ma’am? Can you tell us your name?”

  “Meg,” she said through her sobs. “Meg Pratt.”

  “Meg Pratt,” the soldier said to someone else. Meg heard a woman speaking and caught the telltale static click of a two-way radio.

  “We’re going to get you to safety, ma’am. We’re taking you where there’s help. Just hold on.”

  Something inside of Meg switched on. She felt it like a memory crawling up from a long time ago.

  “Help,” she said.

  “What’s that, ma’am?” the young soldier asked. Meg felt his hand on her shoulder tense up, and she rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes so she could look at him.

  “I’m fine. I’m not infected. It was just my husband. I’m a firefighter; I can help.”

  The soldier released his grip on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. Meg felt her tears stop.

  “Can you take me into Manhattan? I need to get to my engine’s station.”

  “We’ll get you there, ma’am,” the soldier said. “Manhattan is the safe zone, at least right now.”

  The truck gave a jerk and moved down the street, rolling at a good pace. The sound of other engines told Meg they were probably in a convoy. She heard more gunshots and shouting nearby, and still some of the horrifying shrieks of the monsters. The soldier by her head said something to the other person in the truck and Meg heard the two-way radio again.

  “Where’s your station?” the soldier asked.

  Meg gave her engine number and closed her eyes, trying to relax her breathing and focus on the work ahead. She listened while the soldier told her about the outbreak. It had started in Chicago with an infected person on an airplane. The virus spread to JFK overnight. Queens was being overrun. The Army and Coast Guard were working together to keep the bridges to Manhattan secure.

  So far, the infection still hadn’t spread there, but they expected it would eventually.