your plan, over.”
“Roger that, Falcon.” Gartrell heard something slam against the bedroom door in Jolie’s apartment. He dragged a heavy coffee table over and upended it against the hole in the wall, then shoved a chair against it, dragging it around Jolie and Jaden as they clung to each other. It wasn’t much of a barricade, but it would serve to delay the stenches for a minute or two. “Terminator’s got to pull out now, Falcon. I’m rolling over to the company frequency of one two seven point eight, would be appreciative if you could switch over with me and give me a radio check, over.”
“Roger, Terminator. Switching over now.”
Gartrell switched his radio over to the new frequency and transmitted his identity. Falcon wasn’t there, but he did get Summit Six.
“Good to hear from you again, Terminator. Falcon told me what you’re up to, heading out into the streets and all,” the infantry commander said. “You’ve got big brass ones, Green Beret. Over.”
“Always have, always will, Six. Give Falcon my regards, and he gets some beers from me once this is over. Do me a favor, Six, and make sure your lightfighters get the word we’re coming down. Unit of three, myself, one female, one four-year-old boy with autism. If we get boxed in, we’re going to need every swinging dick we can get. Over.”
“Roger that, Terminator. We’re headed your way. Good luck, first sergeant-we’ll be listening in on this side. Summit Six, out here.”
More noise from the other side of the wall, and Gartrell thought he heard the sound of the bed being pushed against the wall. He darted toward the apartment door and looked through the security peephole. There was some smoke in the hallway, but not enough to substantially reduce visibility. Gartrell pulled his last smoke grenade from his belt and unlocked the door as quietly as he could. With a silent prayer, he slowly pulled the door open and peeked around the sill.
There were zeds, at least a dozen of them, all fighting to get into Jolie’s apartment. All were fixated on that particular task, snarling and moaning as they jostled against each other, oblivious to anything else. Gartrell pulled the pin from the smoker and rolled it down the hallway and closed the door as it went off and commenced spewing gray-white smoke. He didn’t bother to lock the door, just left it closed.
He ran back into the living room and knelt beside Jolie and Jaden. He pulled the quick ties from his pocket once again and touched Jolie on the shoulder.
“It’s time. Let’s get Jaden secured, and then we’re on our way.”
Jolie hugged her boy one final time, then looked at Gartrell. “He’ll probably scream. You know that.”
Gartrell nodded. “We just have to get him restrained as quickly as possible, at least until we get into the subway tunnel. I’ll clear a path through the zeds, you just keep up and make sure they don’t flank me, all right?”
“I’ll try.”
“Well, try real, real hard-your son’s going to be on
Jaden struggled but didn’t scream as much as Gartrell feared he would. It still took almost two minutes to get the boy secured to Gartrell’s back, and Jolie fought back more tears as she bound her son’s wrists and ankles so tightly they must have hurt. Jaden jerked and pulled, repeating “No, no, no!” again and again, but at last, he was strapped in place against the back of Gartrell’s body armor.
There was a crash from Jolie’s apartment as the stenches flooded into the bedroom. A moment later, they found their way into the closet, and the coffee table rocked back and forth as a zed pushed against it. Gartrell grabbed Jolie’s hand and pulled her with him as he made a beeline for the door, his battered combat boots whispering across expensive Persian rugs.
“You open the door, and I’ll clear whatever’s on the other side. You’ll go past me and open the door to the stairwell across the hall. Wait for me there. Once we’re in, grab Jaden’s shoulder and follow me down the stairs. Did you put cotton in his ears?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s going to be very smoky outside in the hall, but we won’t be in it for long. Let’s go.” He raised the AA-12 to his shoulder, barrel pointed at the floor and nodded toward the door. Jolie grabbed the door knob in her right hand and looked back at him. Gartrell nodded again, and she yanked the door open.
A mass of unpleasant-smelling gray-white smoke billowed in. Gartrell stepped into the hallway as Jaden moaned and struggled, uncomfortable with the sudden action and the stress it put on his wrists and ankles. A zombie moved against the wall nearby, feeling its way along with outstretched arms. It was vague and indistinct in the dense smoke, and it did not seem to notice Gartrell even though he stood no more than ten feet away. He saw why that was-both its eyes were gone, leaving only empty sockets in the flesh-covered skull. Gartrell kept it covered anyway as Jolie moved past him without hesitation. He caught the apartment door before it slammed shut and closed it gently, then faded into the smoke as the zombie crept slowly closer. It emitted a long, drawn out moan. It couldn’t see them, but sensed the presence of the living somewhere in the hallway. Gartrell moved to the right, edging toward the stairwell door which Jolie held open. He stepped onto the dark landing, and Jolie closed the door behind him. The darkness inside was complete, and Jaden made a small mewling sound in the back of his throat. Gartrell flipped down his night vision goggles and took them out of standby mode, and the stairwell was clearly revealed to him in shades of green and white. He turned and grabbed Jolie’s hand and put it on his shoulder. She clutched him, strong enough to hurt, and Jaden mewled again, his voice echoing in the concrete-walled stairwell. Gartrell started down, walking slowly enough that Jolie could find her footing. It took her a moment to synchronize her movements with his, but she learned quickly, and soon they were making good progress. As they descended, Gartrell heard voices over the radio: the light infantry platoon reporting their progress, and Summit Six ordering them to advance with all possible haste to link up with Gartrell and the civilians. Gartrell felt a blossom of hope spread open in his chest.
“Terminator Five, this is Summit Six. Are you still on this frequency, over?”
Gartrell keyed his transmit button twice. He didn’t want to talk in the stairwell; even a whisper would carry farther than he wanted it to.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Understand you cannot talk, over.”
Gartrell clicked the transmit button twice once again.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Pathfinder is aware of your circumstances, and they are proceeding to the Eighty-Sixth Street station. Double-click if you get that, over.”
Gartrell did as instructed.
“Terminator, Summit. You should be hearing helicopters soon. These are not the transports, I say again, these are not transports-they are Apaches from the Tenth Mountain aviation brigade, and they are to give you fire support. As soon as you’re ready to make your run for the subway, let me know and we’ll get them lined up for close-in gunnery, over.”
Gartrell’s spirits fairly soared. He double-clicked the transmit button again, and he started walking faster, pulling Jolie along. She stumbled on one step, and he forced himself to slow down as he reasserted control over his emotions.
Above, something pounded against one of the doors leading to the stairs. Jolie squeezed his shoulder, and Jaden wriggled about on his back. Gartrell stopped and leaned over the edge of the railing and peered down. Only two more flights to go.
“Let’s pick it up a bit,” he whispered to Jolie.
“I can’t see a thing,” she said.
“I can. Three steps to the next landing, turn left, down a flight, turn left, another flight, and then the door to- to what?”
“A hallway, and at the end of that, another door. Glass and mesh, like the one on Second Avenue.”
Above, the pounding increased, and the moans of the dead reached their ears.
“Keep up with me,” Gartrell said, and then he started down the steps at a good pace. Jolie hurried after him, her hand still on his shoulder. She stumbled down the steps but caught herself. In the process, she lost her grip on Gartrell’s shoulder.
“Dave!” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
