trailed off and shook his head.
'You should go find him,' Danny said. 'My daddy came across five states looking for me.'
'Five states, huh?'
'Yep.' Danny counted them off on his fingers. 'West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey.'
'Wow.' Steve's face turned sad.
'My head hurts.' Danny rubbed his temples.
'I've got a headache too,' Don said.
'That's our fault,' Quinn replied. 'Sorry about that. Looks like it knocked your father out completely.'
'What are you talking about?' Frankie asked.
'Shit.' Don pointed ahead of them. 'Look at that!'
A massive cloud of dead birds swarmed toward them.
Frankie gripped the seat. 'Oh my God.'
'No sweat.' Quinn grinned. 'Watch this.'
He flicked a switch and the birds began to drop from the sky.
'What the hell is that?' Don whistled.
'U.B.R.D., or Ultrasonic Bird Repelling Device. I can't tell you how it works, but it's saved my ass more than once. That's why your heads hurt.
Guarantee you the zombie's heads hurt worse, though.'
'What's it do?' Frankie asked, kneading her scalp.
'Doc Stern can probably explain it,' Steve said. 'He's the one who retrofitted the chopper with it. He's a medical doctor, but he knows a lot about other stuff too. But basically, it turns their little brains into pudding.'
Cold air hissed through the cabin. Frankie shivered, both from the temperature and shock.
Don reached out and squeezed her hand. Smiling weakly, Frankie squeezed back.
Quinn picked up the radio handset.
'Pale Horse, Pale Horse, this is Star Wormwood. Do you copy? Over.'
There was a burst of static, and then a voice answered.
'This is Pale Horse. Go ahead, Wormwood. What's your status? Over.'
'Pale Horse, be advised we are returning to base with four, I repeat, four live ones. Our ETA is fifteen minutes. Over.'
'Ten-four. Understood Wormwood. We'll have a medical team on standby. Out.'
'I still don't understand any of this,' Don muttered.
Jim's eyes fluttered, and he moaned, 'Danny?'
'I'm right here, Daddy.'
Jim smiled.
'So five states.' Steve turned in his seat. 'Sounds like you people have quite a story to tell.'
'First,' Frankie replied, 'tell us where we're going.'
Quinn stared straight ahead as he answered her.
'New York City. Specifically Manhattan. Population eight million or so-ninety-nine point nine percent of which are now zombies. Except for a few of us.'
He turned his eyes to the instrument panel.
'Even more specifically,' Steve finished for him, 'we're going to Ramsey Towers, the heart of the city- and possibly the site of humanity's last stand.'
Don frowned. 'That's a little melodramatic, isn't it?'
The Canadian shrugged.
'Doesn't sound very safe,' Frankie said.
Steve lowered his head as he answered.
'Lady, nothing is safe anymore. We're just happy to live one more day.'
When he couldn't find a functioning radio to contact his forces at the research facility in Hellertown, Ob sent a host of birds with messages tied to their feet instead. His orders were simple: LEAVE BEHIND SMALL
CONTINGENCY FORCE TO ACT AS RESERVES BRING EVERYTHING ELSE TO NEW YORK
CITY-MAKE EXTREME HASTE-LEAVE NOTHING ALIVE IN YOUR WAKE-ADD TO OUR
NUMBERS AS YOU GO.
He stood on the rooftop and watched them take flight into the pre-dawn sky, dead wings cutting through the air.
'Hurry,' he called out to them. 'I want the message delivered before the sun sets tonight!'
