Lou gripped his gun tight and tried to keep from countingthe dead that were spread out on Portland's front lawn. That's how Lou thoughtof Waterfront Park. Up ahead of them, the Burnside Bridge loomed above them.Lou could see shapes at the top of the bridge, looking down at them andflailing their arms.
"Heads up," Lou said to Zeke as the bodiesbegan tumbling over the railing and onto the grass below. Some of them fell andstopped moving, others rose, and came after them. They saved their bullets,choosing to run instead, looking downriver to see if they could see anythingthat could be considered a boat.
They ran under the shadow of the bridge, and when theyemerged into the sun, there was more sound behind them as more of the dead fellto the soft grass behind them. It was a long fall, maybe thirty or forty feet,but the dead didn't care. They could break arms, legs, even backs and keepcoming. A surprising number of them seemed to function perfectly, even withtheir ribs sticking out of their chests. They were like drunks in a caraccident, Lou mused. Too far gone to think to brace themselves, theytumbled loosely to the ground and stood up.
"We're building quite a following," Lou said.
"I always wanted to be famous," Zeke said,smiling. It was the first bit of humor that he had heard from the man. It easeda lot of the apprehension that Lou felt about the man. He was capable,cold-blooded, but there was a human in there somewhere. Two miles south, Louspotted what he was looking for, the furled sails of boats at dock. They sat onthe river, looking like toys in the distance. Lou wanted to be on one; hewanted to feel the wind running over his bald head.
The park ran parallel with the river, the city'sbuildings reaching into the sky to their right. From among the tall structuresto their right, Lou watched as a family burst onto the green grass of the park.They were a good quarter-mile ahead of Lou and Zeke. The father ran with ayoung daughter held in his arms. His beard was reddish-brown in the sunlight,and his pale legs flashed with lean muscle where his khaki shorts ended. Themother was in a dress, holding it in her hands, as she dragged along a teenagedaughter. The dead poured out of the city chasing them. They reminded him of asluggish comet tail, their excited bodies shambling after the family. Thefamily had no weapons, and it looked like they had just made their own personaltrip through hell.
"Oh, shit," Zeke said. Their path had becomesignificantly more difficult thanks to the family and the creatures pursuingthem. Lou looked over his shoulder at their own comet tail. It seemed as ifnothing would ever be easy again.
Between ragged breaths, Lou said, "We gotta get pastthose people, man. If we get caught between their tail and the one we havefollowing us, we're dead meat."
Zeke looked at him and then looked over his shoulder. Hesaw the sense in Lou's words, and without speaking, they picked up their paceto a quick jog, not fast enough to tire them out, but quick enough to let themovertake the family. Lou kept his eyes on the family as they moved, trying tokeep sight of them through the mass of the dead that followed on their heels.
Lou felt the impact of each step in his knees. It hadbeen a while since he had done so much running, first from the police stationwhere he had almost dies and now from a horde of the dead that were locked inon them. The sun beamed down on his head, and he reached up to wipe away thesweat that collected and hung in drops on the fine black hairs of his eyebrows.
He watched as the family ran underneath the MorrisonBridge. A new problem presented itself. The dead began tumbling over the sides.Unlike the Burnside Bridge, the Morrison Bridge was built lower. It was still atwenty-foot fall, but those ten-feet less made a difference. Most, if not allof the dead that tumbled over the side of the Morrison Bridge got back to theirfeet after smacking into the soft green grass. As the family ran through thedecrepit basketball courts under the bridge, they emerged on the other sideinto the sunlight, and another wave of the dead fell off the bridge, crashinginto the ground.
There was now an army of rotting dead between Lou andZeke's destination. Lou watched as the red-bearded father tumbled to theground, spilling his young daughter onto the hard pavement. They scrambled toget to their feet, but there was nothing that could be done. Lou couldn't heartheir shrieks over the moaning, but he knew that they were screaming. Loudidn't know why he did it, but he held his gun into the air and pulled thetrigger. The gunshot rang out through the city, echoing off the tall buildingto the west and the river water to the east.
For the first time in his meaningless life, Lou had anaudience. He also had stage fright. Hundreds of the dead turned and headed intheir direction, temporarily forgetting the family frantically trying to gaintheir feet. Lou felt good about it. He was likely to die because of it, but thefamily had enough of a reprieve to collect themselves and continue theirflight. It felt good in his chest.
Zeke tapped him on the arm as he ran by and said,"Dumbass."
Lou didn't care. Zeke's words weren't said in a mean way.They were said in a way that implied that all he had done was make their lifeharder. They turned right and headed for the shelter of the city, sprintingacross the green grass of the waterfront, breathing hard, the two tails comingtogether to form one. Lou didn't know how much further he could run, but Zekelooked like he could run all day. Sweat covered his white T-shirt, but hisbreathing was much easier than it had been yesterday when they
