Walter Greatshell - Apocalypticon

"You go ahead," said Kyle. "I'm gonna wait a few minutes."

Freddy was dumbfounded. "Wait? Wait for what?"

"In case Sal shows up."

"Sal? Are you kidding, bro? He's dead, come on!"

"No doubt. You guys go-go! I'll come in a couple minutes."

"Don't be stupid, man," said Todd Holmes. He was a slight but wiry boy, with a faint mustache and ropy blond dreadlocks. He had learned tattooing while in juvie for felony tagging (he was the infamous TH, whose initials graced every corner of Providence), and his forearms were covered with bluish black runes. Todd was the boat's artist-in-residence and, probably because he didn't speak much, was something of a guru among the nubs. "Once we go under that bridge, it's gonna bring all those things down after us. Nobody else is gonna be able to get through there. That's why we all have to go together, now."

"That's why you have to go! So go! Get the fuck out of here!"

"Why are you doin' this, man?" Todd said softly, urgently. "Because of Russell?"

"Shut up."

"I understand, man; he was like a brother to me, too…"

"Shut up."

"If he wants to stay, leave him," said Derrick Agostino, wild-eyed with fear. "Sorry, man, but we can't waste any more time."

"I didn't ask you to," said Kyle.

Freddy said, "But he's just-"

"Leave him! We gotta go, do you get it?" Derrick pointed down the street. "Dumb shit, look!"

"Oh my God."

All of a sudden their escape route was rotten with Xombies, hordes of blue figures pouring down the highway on-ramp and out of the side streets.

"Too late," said Todd, "they've seen us. What do we do now?"

"Whatever we're gonna do, just do it," said Derrick. "Here they come."

Kyle looked up the hill. More Xombies were coming down Transit Street, a whole pack of raving "blue meanies." That was a name some of the boys had picked up on the ship because it softened the terror. But nothing could disguise the awfulness of seeing his own brother skittering among them. No, Russell. He grieved. Not you, man. "We gotta do what Sal was trying to do," Kyle croaked, forcing himself to look away. "Lead 'em off, then ditch them and circle back around. Come on."

The lowest concentration of Xombies looked to be in the open fields right across the road, so Kyle went that way, cutting across the parking lot of a Dunkin' Donuts. The other boys followed eagerly, grateful just to be moving. Riding as hard as their weakened conditions allowed, they raced for green lawns. A Xombie in their path was caught up in a gauntlet of vengeful blows, clubbed down and quickly pulverized, its head impatiently struck from its body and batted away like a polo ball. They knew the drill now: Get them before they got you. Don't flinch. Team-work. Leaving the broken thing flailing in their wake like a defective toy, they left the pavement for soft grass.

They were on an athletic field, with basketball courts and a baseball diamond, bisected by a dirt track. A high, mowed berm rose along the edge of the field, to prevent balls from escaping into the surrounding marsh, and tall brush bordered the sides. Just up the shore was an ancient railroad drawbridge, an overgrown, rusty colossus jutting permanently into the sky.

They took down another Xombie on the grass-it was getting easier. But there was also a lot of room here to maneuver, to overwhelm with force, and Kyle knew that unless there was also a way out, these same advantages would soon favor the Xombies. The boys were already very tired and could only ride in circles for so long. In a few minutes, it was going to be a hellish playground, the ultimate game of tag.

"We need a back door," Kyle called, resting his heavy monkey wrench on the handlebars. "Somewhere we can retreat to when the time comes. Where's this road go? Anybody know?"

The others shook their heads. Todd asked, "Don't you?"

"I never been here before."

"Well, what the-" Before Todd could register his incredulity, a whoop rose up from far in the rear. All of them turned in amazement.

It was Sal DeLuca. Riding his bike like a daredevil, Sal was flying, thrusting all out down the hill, whipping between Xombies right and left. The creatures hardly had time to see him before he shot past. As he reached the bottom, momentum peaking, he barreled toward a converging mass of them in the donut-shop parking lot. It looked hopeless for him, his way blocked. Look out, man! Kyle thought, scalp prickling.

Sal didn't stop; he charged right into them at top speed. A dozen maniacal blue devils leaped to tackle him, but suddenly Sal hit a beveled parking bumper, bouncing his bike straight up and over as the Xombies violently cracked heads below.

Now he was away and clear, cruising onto the grass as if just having broken the victory tape, his face flushed with relief and exertion. But as he drew near, his expression flattened with concern.

"Where is everybody?" he demanded, pulling up alongside.

"They dead," said Kyle. "Where you been?"

"Dead, are you kidding? How?"

"Same way we gonna be if we don't do something quick." A Xombie approached, and the bigger boys clubbed it down. "How do we get out of here, dammit?"

"Under the highway!" Sal said.

"That road is closed-look!" Xombies were now covering Gano Street from one end to the other, swarming like enraged ants.

"Oh. Shit…" Blanching at the sight, Sal fumbled out his map. He had to stop reading as it became necessary to flee.

Riding for their lives, Kyle said, "Well?"

"I don't know! The only way is to go under the highway to India Point!"

"Well, we obviously can't do that!"

"It's either that or jump in the river!"

"That's bullshit, man! There's gotta be another way!"

Sal shook his head. He didn't say what he was thinking: Dream on, dude. You took too long to reach the underpass. You were too slow, and you blew your chance to ever leave this park. You shouldn't have let yourselves get surrounded like this-that was dumb, wicked dumb. I did my part, risked my ass to draw them off, and what do I get? Bunch of dumb nubs, that's what I get. Now I get to die with you-thanks. Thanks a lot.

"What about that smoke? What's that?"

"What smoke?"

Kyle pointed it out to him, a small puff of gray rising above the tree line.

"That wasn't there before," said Todd.

"Maybe there's somebody there!" Freddy cried hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe somebody's trying to signal us," Derrick said.

Scanning the USGS map, Sal said, "This says there's nothing back there but some old train tracks. Mr. Tran specifically marked it off-limits, see? It's in Lulu's area of operation."

"I thought they were supposed to be way the hell over on the opposite side of town."

Sal shrugged helplessly. "Looks like there's a tunnel or something. All I know is, it says not to go this way."

Kyle said, "Well, maybe we need Lulu's help at this point, you ever think of that?"

"How can Langhorne's pet Xombies help us? They're just a bunch of… Xombies!"

"Idiot! Those Smurfs of hers are hooked up directly to the boat-at least we can let Langhorne know we're in trouble."

It was an incredible idea, running to Xombies for help, but Sal couldn't think of any argument. They had no choice. And there was no time to debate it anyway. "All right, let's go."

The road became a rough path through the sticks. Now they had to pick their way more carefully, agonizingly aware of hideous goons flooding across the field behind them, hemming them in. Sal alone could possibly make a break for it, a last-ditch effort to lead the Xombies away, but he couldn't bring himself to try. He was exhausted, they all were. Subconsciously preparing to quit-just to let go.

Far from getting out of the park, the boys were becoming ever more deeply cornered in it, forcing their bikes down a muddy hollow littered with beer cans and plastic jugs and dirty diapers, junk tires and box springs. It stank of rotten eggs-the brackish nearness of the marsh. The path became uneven, rolling upward, hemmed in by scarlet sumac and walls of reeds-once they got into that brush and had to start running on foot, it would be all over.