All Our Tomorrows Page 11

  Ah, pragmatic reason. Oh, how I hate thee. They’re right. Well, I’m right, mimicking what David and Jane would say if they were here.

  “The mall,” I say. “If they’ve taken him anywhere, it’s there.”

  The mall is where the mass of zombies were when we raided the veterinarian’s office. That must be where they have their hive.

  David and Jane don’t respond. I don’t let them. I’ve made up my mind about what I’m going to do.

  I pick up the pace. Rather than walking, I jog but slowly, running only slightly faster than a hurried walk. I’m determined to use a steady speed to my advantage. As I approach the burned out bus, I see the remains of the zombies we killed just a few days ago. There’s not much left, just a few bones and a dark stain on the concrete. Turning toward the mall, the wind blows softly on my face, drawing my scent behind me. Zee will follow, but if I can keep a good pace, I’ll be okay. I know I will. Nothing can stop me. But what is that confidence based on? Nothing other than my good fortune so far. Ferguson probably thought nothing could stop him either.

  The hill seems longer and steeper than it did the other day, and I’m breathing hard by the time I reach the car dealership, but I’m in good spirits.

  A zombie staggers out of the car dealership, and I put down the fire extinguisher, slipping the pack from my back and readying Nathan for battle, but Zee stands there staring at me. It’s as though he sees right through me.

  “Come on,” I say, brandishing my baseball bat like a sword and holding it high. The muscles in my arm are tense, coiled like a spring. “What are you waiting for?”

  There’s no answer. Not a growl. No groaning or snarling. Flesh has peeled away from the zombie’s face, revealing his bony jaw and teeth. There’s indifference in his eyes.

  I stamp the ground, daring him to approach, but he stands motionless beside a Pontiac with flat tires. I don’t understand. Behind me, down the hill by the bus, zombies wander around but they’re aimless. They’re not following me.

  I’m confused. Yesterday, Zee did everything possible to nab me. Today, I’m not sure he even sees me. Another zombie shuffles out of a driveway. His feet kick at the empty shell casings from a couple of days ago. I remember standing where he is now, firing on zombies charging up the hill. He too ignores me.

  Am I dreaming?

  I creep down the hill, stepping over dead zombies. Occasionally, I glance back and see the zombie by the car dealership. He stands motionless, watching me. Why? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’ll take any advantage I can to get in, find Steve, and get the hell out of here.

  A handful of zombies amble around in the intersection beside the vet’s office. Birds pick at the carnage still piled up in the street. Hundreds of dead bodies lie there rotting in the sun.

  The houses lining the hill are old, having been built out of fiber cement weather boards. As decrepit as they appear, they probably looked like this before the apocalypse.

  A zombie stands behind a rusting wire fence, watching as I walk past. Is this what happened in the forest? Are they waiting to attack?

  Sweat breaks out on my forehead. My white knuckled hands grip the baseball bat and fire extinguisher. I quicken my pace.

  As I pass the warehouse at the back of the veterinarian’s office, I see zombies in the office. They stand still, like shadows, ghosts. Their heads turn as I walk by, intently watching my every move, but they don’t come after me either.

  “I don’t like this,” I whisper, wanting someone to provide some reassurance, but there’s no response, just the squawk of birds fleeing as I approach the mangled remains of the zombies trapped in the intersection.

  The Cadillac we crept down in still sits in the middle of the road with all four doors open. From beneath the car, arms reach out for me. Fingers clutch feebly at the air.

  The intersection is deathly quiet.

  Zombies stand still in the distance. They’re watching me. There are hundreds of them. What are they waiting for?

  My heart pounds in my throat.

  I’ve walked into a trap.

  There are zombies all around me, all at different distances, but were they to converge, there would be no escape. There’s nowhere to go but to go on.

  My boots squish in the bloody mess staining the road as I make my way across the intersection toward the mall. I should grab more tablets. I should get in, get out, and get back to the commune, but something draws me on to the mall. I have to know what happened to Steve. I can’t explain why, but I feel as though he’s close.

  I’m afraid, but I can’t turn away.

  Zee stalks me.

  Once my back is turned, he creeps up behind me. As I walk through the empty parking lot toward the mall, I notice zombies flanking me, boxing me in. I turn, and they freeze, but they’ve closed ranks. It’s too late to run. I’m just one person. I couldn’t fight my way out with a machine gun, let alone a baseball bat and a baby Glock. By the time I reach the shattered doors, there’s easily a hundred zombies on all sides but one—the mall entrance.

  My hands shake, but I continue on, stepping on the broken glass scattered across the forecourt.

  Zombies growl in the darkness beyond the doors.

  The fire extinguisher has become a security blanket. I squeeze the handle, directing a burst of CO2 into the shadows. White clouds billow before me for a moment, quickly dissipating in the breeze. Although it’s heavy, I brandish the extinguisher as though it were a gun, holding it in my left hand and spraying CO2 in an arc. In my mind, it’s a flame thrower.

  I’m dead.

  There’s no way I’m getting out of this alive, but I’m past caring.

  The baseball bat hangs limp by my right side. If Zee attacks, I’ll fight, but I have no illusions of escape. I know I’ll die in here looking for Steve. My only consolation is that I won’t turn. Zee might win the fight, but he’ll lose the war. He won’t claim my allegiance. The bullet hanging around my neck is simply to spare me from misery, not to keep me from betraying humanity, and I find comfort in that. I’ve cheated Zee out of his prize.

  Overturned shopping carts and broken benches litter the marble tiles inside the mall. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I get a feel for the layout of the mall. Box-like stores sit on either side, separated by walls partitioning them into dead ends. It would be a mistake to enter one for shelter.

  Athletic Alley. Books a Billion. Odds and Ends. Game Zone. Some of the storefronts are vaguely familiar, but they’ve all been ransacked. This isn’t a mall. It’s a tomb.

  Further along, the marble corridor opens up into a food court with fixed tables dotted through a broad area. The chairs have been scattered. Bullet holes in the support columns speak of battles fought and lost, but there are no bodies.

  I turn at the sound of glass breaking behind me. Zombies stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking the entrance. They’re moving in a line.

  “So that’s how it is?” I ask, knowing nothing matters any more. Life is meaningless. I’ll never see the sky again.

  The zombies behind me are silhouettes set against what little light seeps in from outside. Zee is a faceless monster in the dark.

  I grab another fire extinguisher from the wall by the food court. In the low light, I have no hope of seeing the meter on the handle, but it feels full and there’s a metal pin still hooked through the handle, preventing it from being accidentally fired. I pull the pin, tossing it on the tiles. A burst of white gas sprays out over the tables and I feel invincible. I welcome a fight.

  “I’m not afraid any more,” I yell as Zee advances. “Do you hear me? You can’t win. You may kill me, but you’ll still lose. We will win in the end.”

  Zombies snarl in reply, lost in the darkness.

  I walk deeper into the mall, noting that fire exits are scattered along the hallway. At first, they appear random, but I recognize a pattern. When the mall was designed, the exits must have been carefully planned. They’ve been positioned so they’re inconspicuo
us, often appearing as little more than a dark hallway beside a major department store, but they’re set at regular intervals. And they’re narrow. If there are zombies there, hiding in the dark, there can’t be more than a few of them. Fire exits are designed for quick release. My spirits lift. I feel as though I’m in control, not Zee.

  “You don’t scare me,” I say, squeezing off a burst of CO2 just to be sure we both know where we are in relation to each other.

  Zombies stand motionless in the shattered storefronts, dark silhouettes, undead mannequins watching me intently.

  Out of the shadows, a zombie finally charges at me.

  I swing the fire extinguisher, wanting to catch him with the full weight of the heavy steel canister, but I miss as he stops short. Several other zombies growl, flanking him but hanging back in the shadows.

  I unleash a burst of CO2, hoping for an effect similar to what I saw in the strip mall, but this zombie doesn’t react. He keeps his distance. Saliva drips from his lips. Snarling and baring his teeth, he paces to one side like a caged tiger. Another burst of CO2 leaves frost clinging to his cheeks, but his eyes remain locked on me.

  The other zombies are growling, but they’re staring him down, not me. Slowly, he retreats, backing away as though he’s been scolded by the others. Zee melts into the shadows, leaving me alone in the mall.

  Glass crunches softly underfoot, signaling the wall of zombies urging me on.

  There’s an emergency exit between a Tex-Mex fast food stand and some new-age juice place. I can just make out the crash bar that will allow the door to spring open in an emergency. I only hope it isn’t stuck. I start counting my steps.

  “One, two, three,” guessing it’s roughly a hundred paces between the exits I’ve seen so far.

  Light streams in through overhead skylights. The upper floor takes most of the light, but I feel safer stepping out of the shadows. Safer? Hah. What a joke. I’ve got hundreds of zombies stalking me, and I have the gall to feel safer in the sunlight?

  Around step eighty five, I spot another exit beside a clothing store. At a guess, it provides access to restrooms at the end of the hall.

  “What do you want?” I ask, constantly turning, checking all sides as the deathly quiet zombies continue their slow trudge behind me. “Why are you doing this?”

  There’s no answer, not that I was expecting one. I’m trying to summon courage, trying to understand what’s happening.

  The line of zombies holds back by roughly twenty feet. If they were to rush me, I’d have to move quickly. The extinguisher would be the first thing to go, followed by the backpack, but I’d keep Nathan at hand.

  One story above turns into two and then three in the heart of the mall. Walkways crisscross the open space above, casting shadows over the ransacked ruins. Chips of marble, torn clothes and cash registers lie strewn around me. Money must have still meant something in those last days if people were willing to lose their lives over it.

  A vast octagon opens out before me with dead escalators running between floors and a burned out elevator on one side. There’s a stage in the middle of the floor, the kind that was once used for fashion shows. I can see what appears to be zombies standing around the stage. There are eight of them, standing still and facing in toward the center.

  As I approach, lights come on.

  Eight astronauts stand evenly spaced around the stage. The spotlights on the side of their helmets illuminate a crumpled body lying in the middle of the stage.

  “STEVE!!!”

  I can’t help myself. All caution is gone. I run for the stage, swinging the fire extinguisher up as I climb onto the raised platform.

  “Oh, Steve!”

  I rush to his side, dropping my bat along with the extinguisher and grabbing him.

  “Steve. It’s me. Hazel.”

  His forehead’s hot. He’s sweating even though it’s cold in here. I pull my pack off and grab the canister, holding it too his lips and encouraging him to sip as I raise his head.

  “Drink,” I say softly, forgetting about the astronauts surrounding us and the zombies slowly advancing. Hundreds of dark figures surround the stage, a demented crowd frozen in an eerie silence.

  “Ha—Haze—Hazel?”

  “Yes,” I say, crying tears of joy. I can’t help but touch him. I need to know he’s real. I run my fingers through his hair.

  His eyelids flutter.

  “Stay with me,” I say, rummaging through my pack and finding the last of the painkillers Ferguson had stowed away. I pop the aging foil covers and push a couple of pills past his cracked lips.

  “Swallow,” I say, again, holding the canister to his lips.

  “You need to get out of here,” Steve says, and I cannot help but smile. Some things never change.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say, finally stopping to think about where we are.

  Steve crunches the painkillers beneath his teeth, taking another drink and swallowing.

  “Who are they?” he asks, trying to get up, but he’s too weak. His eyes settle on the astronauts standing motionless around the stage with the spotlights on their helmets illuminating us.

  “I don’t know,” I say, getting to my feet, bathed in light from all sides.

  Beyond the spotlights, hundreds of zombies surround the stage. They have their arms by their sides, standing there motionless, which is confusing.

  I creep up to one of the astronauts surrounding the stage, only he differs from those I saw by the railroad tracks. All of the astronauts here are different from those in the woods, some in subtle ways, with a plain red strip running over a white helmet. Others look more like pilots wearing pressure suits. One of them is wearing day-glow orange, which could be confused for a prison uniform were it not for the gloves, and the seals around the cuffs and boots, along with a white flight helmet and dark visor.

  “What do you want?” I ask with my fingers reaching out to touch the silvery metallic fabric of a Mercury era spacesuit. A flexible tube runs from the side of the helmet down into the middle of the suit. Zippers run diagonally across his chest, marking both pockets and the awkward way the suit is sealed. The NASA logo is visible in the low light, but it’s faded. Gloved hands hang still by his side.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  I reach out for the dark sun visor, wanting to open it. I have to see who’s inside, but I’m nervous. Light reflects off the slick glass, giving me a distorted view of my own arm reaching for the astronaut.

  My fingers tremble, touching at the latch on the side of the visor.

  “Who are you?” I ask, raising the visor.

  Dead eyes stare back at me from behind the transparent inner visor. I’ve seen enough zombies to know a corpse when I see one. The skin has shrunk, revealing shriveled eyes and exposing the teeth, but this is no zombie.

  He’s dead. Mummified.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, turning to face one of the other astronauts.

  Hands reach for me from below the stage, touching at my jeans. Zee fawns over me. There’s none of the aggression I’ve seen before, there’s no attempt to drag me from the stage. They just want to touch me, which is unnerving.

  “What do you want from us?” I yell, looking up at the cavernous open shell above the stage. The mall stretches up several stories to a cracked skylight high over head. My voice echoes of the walls.

  “Haze,” Steve cries. “Behind you!”

  I turn to see an astronaut walking slowly toward me. His thick gloved hand holds a white gun. The fabric of his suit makes a soft, crunching sound as he walks.

  I can’t go on. I have nothing left.

  I fall to my knees before him, pleading, “Why? Why are you doing this to us?”

  The astronaut doesn’t respond. His golden visor provides a fisheye view of the stage and I can see hundreds of outstretched zombie arms behind me.

  Zee calls for me, but these aren’t words or snarls or growls.

  A rhythmic hum resonates th
rough the air, pulsating and throbbing.

  The barrel of the gun touches my forehead and in some way I’m glad the madness has come to an end. I can’t cope. I have no more fight in me. I’ve done all I can, and it has not been enough. The end comes to everyone at some point. Mine offers release.

  Looking up at the astronaut, I see gloved fingers tightening around the trigger. I tell myself I won’t feel a thing. I’ll be free. It’ll happen so quickly, I’ll never know it happened at all. And I don’t. Suddenly, all that surrounds me is the pitch black darkness, and the intense quiet soothes my troubled soul.

  Chapter 08: Heaven & Hell

  Smoke drifts around me. Sunlight pierces the clouds, blinding me. I sit up, watching as vapor swirls in response to my motion.

  “What the?”

  I get to my feet, watching as white clouds of vapor envelop my boots, stretching up to my knees and hiding the floor from me. The floor? I’m standing on a cloud!

  Slowly, I turn through a full circle, taking in a vista that stretches for hundreds of miles around me. White fluffy clouds dominate the sky, and I’m on one, looking down on a mountainous terrain thousands of feet below. Azure blue waters reflect the sunlight from a crystal clear lake high in the mountains, well above the tree line.

  “I—where am I?”

  The sun is bright.

  The air is cold and crisp.

  I step forward, unsure of my feet, feeling as though at any moment I could plummet to my death by plunging through the clouds.

  My death?

  Am I already dead?

  Is this heaven?

  “This is impossible.”

  My mind races. I was trapped in a mall overrun with zombies. Steve was there.

  “Steve?” I call out. “Steve are you out there? Can you hear me?”

  I take another step, only the floor is firm and solid, not like I’d imagine on a cloud. The floor is flat. Artificial. I crouch, waving with my hands to clear away the mist. Thousands of feet below me there’s a lush forest, but my fingers rest against a solid surface somewhat like a sheet of glass.

  The wind howls through the air, blowing my hair back and I look up into a dark sky. The floor, if it can be called that, seems to pitch beneath me as the wind rushes past, blowing away the clouds. It’s all I can do to stay on my feet as I plummet toward a barren volcano.