Jim put an arm around his shoulders and held him tight.
'And Rick,' Danny continued, his eyes filling with tears. 'And Carrie and Mr. Martin and Mrs. De Santos and everybody else. Before Mr. De Santos saved us, Mr. Martin told me that when people die, they go to Heaven. Do you think that's true, Daddy?'
'I hope so.'
'Do you think that's where Mommy went?'
Jim chose his words carefully.
'I think probably so. I know this-wherever your
Mom and stepdad and stepmom and all the others went, they are safe, just like we are. The monster people can't hurt them anymore.'
Satisfied, Danny picked up his action figure and began to play again. He wiped away a tear and said, 'I love you, Daddy.'
'I love you too.'
'Everything's going to be okay now, right?'
Jim nodded. 'You know, Danny, I think it is. I really think it is.'
Outside, the rain continued to fall, the fat drops pelting the building like missiles.
Father and son were oblivious.
Minutes later, something else fell from the sky, but their attention was on each other, and they missed its plummeting arc past their window.
Kilker lit a cigarette. 'It's really coming down out there.'
He looked out the window, watching the zombies milling about, oblivious to the downpour.
Carson nodded, and popped the tab on a can of soda. 'Yeah, it is. Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe a hurricane will blow through Manhattan and wash those ugly fucks off the streets.'
Both were in their early twenties, and wore sneakers and baggy jeans with the waistband of their boxer shorts showing. A Yankees cap was perched atop Carson's head. Next to them, a battery-operated boom box played Hatebreed.
Carson set the soda down and played air guitar, growling along with the singer.
'Will you turn that shit down?' Kilker protested.
'Yeah.' Carson sighed reluctantly. 'I've heard this
one too many times anyway. There won't be any more Hatebreed discs, I guess.'
'That's a shame.' Kilker's voice dripped with sarcasm. 'Don't know how you can stand that growly metal shit.'
'Saw them in concert once. With Biohazard and Power Plant and Agnostic Front. Gave myself whiplash in the pit.'
Kilker just shook his head.
Carson slurped the soda.
'Do you have to do that?' Kilker asked, clearly annoyed.
'Do what?'
'Drink like a fucking pig? It's disgusting.'
'Jesus-I'm sorry, bro. Chill out.'
They lapsed into silence. Carson checked his weapon, an Ingram MAC-11.
It was light and compact for a submachine gun, not much bigger than an average pistol. A high-capacity forty-seven-round magazine sat next to it. He hadn't used it since joining the group inside the skyscraper. It had been assigned to him when he was put on the building's security team.
'What are you thinking about, dog? You're quiet today. What's up?'
Kilker stared out the window, watching the rain fall past on its way to the streets far below.
'They don't seem so scary from up here,' he said dreamily. 'They look like ants.'
'Dead ants, maybe,' Carson replied. Grinning, he started humming the Pink Panther theme. 'Dead ant dead ant, dead ant, dead ant dead ant dead ant dead a-'
'Shut up!' Kilker snapped. 'God, you're such a dick sometimes.'
'Yo, what the fuck is your problem?'
Kilker jumped to his feet, his cigarette falling from his mouth.
'My problem? I'm sick of this shit. I'm sick of this fucking building and fucking guard duty and the fucking smell from those things down there. I'm fucking sick and tired of it, man. I'm not a soldier. I was a fucking frycook, for fuck's sake!'
'So tell Bates you want to be transferred to the cafeteria,' Carson yawned. 'I mean, shit, man, I worked in a convenience store. Never held a gun in my life until I came here. But I'm glad I've got one now. You should be too.'
Kilker didn't respond.
