David Bernstein: Machines of the Dead

Jack felt the blood leave his face as the air rushed out of his lungs. That was it. The gig was up.

Zaun met Jack’s eyes. “We’re fucked.”

Jack pulled 3F’s door closed, unsure why, and ran to 3R, not worrying about being quiet any longer.

With Zaun inside 3R, Jack closed and locked the door.

“Maybe we’ll be all right,” Zaun said.

“Go wake up Maria and prepare to leave.”

“Maybe we should get to 3F while we can.”

“We’d be stuck there indefinitely. We’ll stay here for as long as we can and if we have to leave at least we have the fire escape. Now go.”

Jack turned to look through the peephole while Zaun went to wake Maria.

Zaun had screwed up royally, putting them all in danger. Damn it. They could’ve been resting easy. Now they’d have the dead right outside the door, and with 3F’s door closed, the hallway was going to fill up quickly. He should’ve left the place open.

Jack saw the first undead coming up the stairs. It was a male, dressed in a tuxedo, the white shirt with its fluffy front drenched crimson. Behind it was another elderly male zombie, its right eye dangling from the socket like an unfinished electrical outlet. Where the thing’s right ear used to be was a gaping hole of raw flesh. Right next to it was another member of the undead. They were walking hastily up the stairs, side by side.

As the undead reached the top, they spread out in the hall, going this way and that, bumping into walls and each other. There was nowhere for them to go. Jack’s mouth went dry as he watched the torn and bloodied bodies mill about. The door thumped loudly as undead after undead slammed into it. Unable to look away, he watched as the floor quickly filled until his view was obstructed. Feeling the door bow inward, bending under the mass’ weight, he backed away.

The undead were mindless, cramming the third floor, crushing each other. Continuing to retreat, he heard the wood splintering. Being quiet didn’t matter anymore; soon the zombies would be inside. But it wasn’t the door that gave way under the pressure of the dead, it was the hinges, the wood too rotted to hold. First, the top broke away, then the bottom. The door flew open and crashed to the floor. Undead poured into the apartment, falling onto one another, tripping each other up and slowing down the invading horde.

“They’re inside,” Jack yelled as he ran into the living room. “We have to go.”

Zaun’s and Maria’s faces wore masks of terror.

“What?” Maria asked, seeming confused.

“They’re inside,” Jack responded. “Get to the fire escape.”

Arms filled with weapons and supplies, the group fell back to the window. Maria dropped her pack and started firing at the undead as they entered the living room area. Zaun joined her as Jack opened the security gate and window.

“Maria,” he yelled, “ let’s go.”

She stopped firing, grabbed her pack and came over to the window. Tossing her bag onto the fire escape, she climbed out after it. Jack blasted away at the undead, but for every one he dropped, two more took its place.

The unnatural things collided into furniture, falling over the couch and table. They were like an unyielding force, a river. As they spread out, coming around the various pieces of furniture it became harder and harder to take them out.

“Zaun,” Jack said, “you’re next.”

“No, you first. This is my mess.”

“Damn it.”

Jack heard the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turned around and saw Maria smashing out the remaining shards of the barred window with the butt of her weapon. “Move your asses, gentlemen,” she ordered and began laying down cover fire.

Jack crawled through the open window after having tossed his pack out. He yelled for Zaun, then broke the window’s upper section of glass and began firing into the apartment.

Jack heard Zaun cry out. He glanced down to see his friend climbing from the window, a zombie holding onto his left leg, its jaws clenched around the calf.

Jack soccer kicked the corpse in the head. He heard a loud snap as its head flew back, the zombie falling lifelessly back into the apartment.

Jack pulled Zaun to him as he and Maria stood huddled against the railing, trying to get as far away from the reaching arms as possible. She continued firing at the undead as they attempted to make their way onto the fire escape.

Looking down, Jack saw that a number of undead had gathered below, with more making their way down the alley. They had a decision to make-go down and fight, or head to the roof and hope for something better.

“Up or down?” he asked, firing into the head of a badly burned corpse as it made its way through the window.

With no time to reload, Maria and Zaun were down to using. 9mm’s. Jack fired off the last shotgun shell in his weapon.

With all the noise, the alley was filling up fast. He had to make a decision.

“We’re going up,” he said. Maria’s gun clicked empty. She grabbed onto the ladder and climbed. The thing was bolted to the wall, making it completely vertical and impossible, at least Jack hoped, for the dead to climb.

Zaun went up next, then Jack. Upon reaching the roof, he looked down and saw the fire escape flooded with undead. They had just made it. He kept an eye on the ladder, making sure none of the undead could climb it.

Turning around, he saw Zaun standing by Maria. Jack walked up and punched him in the face, sending Zaun to the pebble-covered tar-papered roof.

“What the hell, Jack?” Maria asked.

Zaun sat up, rubbing his jaw.

“Ask him,” he said.

She looked at Zaun.

“Guess I had that coming,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Did I miss something?” Maria asked.

Zaun moved his jaw around, then gave a brief account of his watch and how he went into 3F, and that if it wasn’t for him, the undead would’ve most likely left them alone.

“You asshole,” Maria said, fists clenched, nostrils flared. Jack thought she might take a swing herself.

He felt a little better after punching Zaun. He shouldn’t have done it, but he was too upset to care. They’d almost been killed, turned into zombie chow, and Zaun needed to comprehend that his friend-his understanding friend, needed him to pay in some way, even if that way was in the form of a single punch to the face. Let the guy know how angry he was and that those kinds of actions wouldn’t be tolerated.

“You almost got us killed,” Maria went on. “You know that? And now we’re stuck on this roof in the cold.”

“We need to be able to count on you,” Jack chimed in. “On each other.”

Zaun looked like a kid who had been told Santa wasn’t coming this year. “I’m so sorry guys. ” He looked at Jack, then Maria. “I… it won’t happen again.”

Maria was shaking her head, biting her lip and tapping her foot, appearing ready to explode. She didn’t know about Zaun’s past, his drug problem, but that wasn’t really the issue. If Zaun had remained in the apartment, none of this would be happening. But Jack didn’t want the guy sliding into a depressed state, spiraling downward. They needed him. He had little knowledge of dealing with a recovering addict, but figured it was best to stay positive.

“We need to settle this here and now,” he said.

“Settle my ass,” Maria spat. “How am I supposed to trust this guy? What if you didn’t wake up when you did and the dead came upstairs and into our apartment?”

“I know. But the important thing is that I did wake up.”

“Maria,” Zaun said. “I’m sorry. Sorrier than you’ll ever know. It won’t happen again. I should’ve stayed in the apartment. I know we’re a group. We need each other in order to make it out of here. I was only thinking of myself, pretending the situation wasn’t so bad. I was wrong. So wrong. If I’d listened and stayed, we’d be all right now.”