Anton Strout - Deader Still

“I have an idea,” I said. “Pistol-whip me.”

Mina turned from looking out the door. “I’m sorry, what ?”

“Just do it.”

“Simon, are you crazy? I’m not going to pistol-whip you.”

“A second ago you were willing to shoot me,” I spat out.

She shook her head and sighed. “I wouldn’t have really shot you.”

“Looked like it to me,” I said, moving closer to the door she held shut. I reached for its handle. “Now, pistol-whip me or I’m going to pull this door open and let the undead have their merry way with us.”

Mina started to argue, but gave up when she saw how dead serious I was. “This is the Simon I remember,” she said with a smile. “Reckless and steeped in crazy. You realize it’s a fine line in pistol-whipping between rendering you unconscious and killing you, right?”

I hadn’t really thought of that. Pistol-whipping just seemed like one of those great movie clichés to try.

“I suppose irreversible brain damage might not be worth the risk. Fine. Just hit me like you mean it.”

“No problem there,” Mina said, and pulled back her arm. She let fly with a right hook, catching me upside the head. I stumbled back, stunned and a bit shocked at how jarring the blow was.

“Again,” I mumbled.

“Again, no problem,” Mina said. There was a perverse anger on her face now, and my ire was rising as well. She drew back, this time missing my face and punching me in the shoulder while still keeping the door secure.

The blow spun me around and I was once again facing the lock. I reached for it.

“Agai—” I started, but I felt a sudden sharp pain in my ass as Mina drove her foot into it. I fell forward into the glass from the kick’s impact, clutching onto the lock itself to keep my face from smashing into it. Mina was in pure vengeance mode, and all my years of repressed anger toward her flooded my mind. Female or not, I wanted nothing more than to get up off the floor of the foyer and take a swing back at her, but all these emotions overwhelmed me like I had been hoping they would. I felt the tiniest electric spark of my powers returning, building until it washed over me. I could only hope that by the time I came out of this fresh vision, Mina wouldn’t have beaten me to death by accident.

As I expected, the life of an electronic locking system wasn’t an exciting one, but it certainly got a lot of action. Multiple flashes filled my head—fingers, chubby, wrinkly, young, old, keyed their pass codes into the system. Each of their IDs was different, but the numbers were flying by so fast I couldn’t make out any single code. I slowed the psychometric vision as best as I could, like I was watching it on replay. A harsh-faced woman with an armful of books paused by the electronic lock and keyed her code: 24601.

When I pulled from the vision, I found myself passed out on the floor of the little lobby, and the first thing I noticed was how sore my ass was. The second thing I noticed was a tickling sensation by my nose, accompanied by a wretched smell. I tilted my head, only to see one of the severed zombie fingers wiggling far too close to my mouth for my liking. I shot up to a sitting position, the pain in my ass screaming now, and I found myself shaking with low blood sugar. I hadn’t expected the return of my powers, but there was half of a lint-covered roll of Life Savers in my coat pocket, and I crunched them down as I went to stand up again.

Three arms were poking in through the door now as Mina struggled to keep the rest of them from coming in as well.

“Jesus, my ass,” I said.

“Sorry,” Mina said. “Got a little carried away there with the kicking. Didn’t realize you were out for the count.”

“Enough of this shit,” I said, batting the one zombie arm away. “Time to go.”

I ran to the lock and pressed in 24601. Tomorrow, the security people might wonder why their favorite scholar’s code was being used this late at night, but I was more concerned with the guards patrolling the museum right now. If we didn’t get the hell out of the vestibule before their return, our choices would be fighting them or fighting the zombies. Probably both.

The light went green with a pleasant beep, and the magnetic lock clicked. I pushed the door open all the way. Mina was still concentrating on holding the outer door shut against the zombies and wasn’t aware of what I had done at all.

“Mina! Let’s go.”

She craned her head around and her eyes lit up. When she saw me inside the museum, she slammed the glass door on the zombie arms once more, eliciting a bone-cracking crunch, then ran toward where I stood just inside the main lobby. As she ran past, she grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me with her.

“No,” I shouted, pulling free. I had wanted to shut the inside door against the zombies, who were already stumbling over one another as they streamed into the foyer. I ran back toward the door, but there was no way I was going to get to it before they entered the museum. I looked back over my shoulder. Mina stood there watching me, dumbfounded.

“Go,” I said, raising my bat and turning back toward the oncoming zombies. “Do what you came here for. They won’t bother you. They’re after me.”

Mina hesitated for a couple more seconds, then ran up a set of white stairs leading to the next level. Now that she was out of the way, things would be much easier. Zombies in small numbers were easy to outrun, and if I led them off into the museum away from her, I should have no trouble playing keep-away. And there was always the bat to fall back on. If I got lucky, I’d be able to pick them off one by one. I had never dealt with zombies all by myself, but I really couldn’t call in the D.E.A. to help me with this one. I was in the middle of a crime, after all.

I started backing off in the opposite direction from the one Mina had gone, jumping onto one of the dark wooden blocks of a bench . . . only to watch the entire pack of zombies start shuffling off toward the white stairs instead.

“What the hell . . . ? Hey! Dicks! Over here!”

I leapt off the bench and crept to the edge of their pack, my bat choked and ready for action. Not a one of the monsters swiped at me. I poked my bat at one of them. It pushed the bat away, but ignored me and my juicy, juicy brains.

They continued toward the stairs. Definitely going after Mina.

“Crap on toast!” I said, and ran ahead of the pack. I took the stairs two at a time. The next floor had even less light than the main floor, but was lit in dim little pools here and there. I spun around, looking for signs pointing to the traveling exhibition that held The Scream . I couldn’t read anything in the dark, but I did see a pool of light move across the wall off to my left and I ran toward it as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to run up too boldly thinking it was Mina, only to startle a guard.

I stopped at the arch near where the light had come from and peeked in. Mina stood there in front of The Scream , the lone figure in it looking horrified that it was being stolen for the umpteenth time. Jane finished unfolding a painting-shaped soft case from the bag she had brought with her. She then pulled out pieces of an adjustable frame and started assembling them.

“You want to speed this up?” I whispered.

Mina jumped.

“What are you doing up here?” she said. “I thought you were going to take care of your friends.”

I shook my head.

“Apparently, they’re not my friends; they’re yours .”

“What?” She stopped what she was doing and turned to me.

“Seems like I’m not the only one around here with major secrets. You been pissing off the wrong people, Mina?”