"She's the one that shot at Blake, man. We can'tjust have her running around," Mort said, slightly angry that Lou wouldeven consider leaving her alone.
"Come on in," the voice said. To Mort, thevoice sounded weaker. "I'm not going to shoot. I'm going to die, and whenI do, I don't want to wind up like one of those things out there."
"You believe that?" Mort asked Lou.
Lou shrugged. "I don't see what choice we have. Idon't have a whole lot of bullets. I'd prefer to keep the ones I do have."
"Fuck," Mort said.
"What's going on up there?" Katie yelled fromthe hallway.
"There's someone up here. She sounds hurt,"Mort yelled.
The response from Katie was typical. "Just kill herand get it over with."
"Alright, we're coming in," Lou yelled at thedoorway.
There was no response from the other side. Lou nodded atMort, and they stood up. Lou held his gun at the ready as Mort reared back andthen kicked the door open. The doorjamb splintered as the door itself was flunginward. Lying on the floor in a pool of sunshine was a woman, at least Mortthought it was a woman. She was covered in dirt and filth, and blood wasbubbling out of her chest with each breath. She raised her head slightly andsmiled at them. "It's good to see people again," she said, "evenif it's only for a little bit."
Lou relaxed his gun hand. He could see the light fadingfrom the woman's eyes even as she spoke. "What happened here?" heasked her.
"The animals. They needed to be protected," thewoman said. "I was just trying to protect the animals."
Mort couldn't believe what he was hearing. This lady hadalmost killed his best friend for the sake of some damn animals. He wanted tohurt her. Mort had never been a violent person. The only time it had ever cometo that was when someone had tried to hurt him. This lady had hurt Blake, buthe found it made him just as mad as if she had been shooting at him, perhapseven more so.
The woman's breathing hitched, and she looked at them andsaid, "Will you do it? Will you do it when the time comes?"
Lou squatted down across from the lady, a look ofsympathy on his face. The look made Mort sick. "Just shoot her," hesaid.
Lou said, "She ain't dead yet."
"I don't care. She could have killed us," Mortreplied.
Lou just sat there, ignoring Mort and his words."Fuck you. I'll do it." Mort reached to take the gun from Lou, butLou pushed him away.
He held up a hand and said, "Hold off."
"Hold off? For what?"
"Look at her. She's going."
"Man, what do I care?" Mort was furious. Sheneeded to pay for what she had done, but Lou just wanted to sit there and watchher die. "You're just gonna let her go out like that? She could havekilled us," he yelled.
Lou ignored Mort more. "Man, I'm talking toyou!"
"Just let it be," Lou said in a whisper."Just let it be."
Mort saw that he was talking to the woman, and before hecould say anything else, the woman let out one last breath. Her eyes closed,and Lou held the gun out to him. "Here," he said. "It's oknow."
Mort snatched the gun from Lou. "What do you meanit's ok?"
"It just is," he said as he brushed past Mortwho was standing in the doorway. Mort held the machine gun in his hand, feelingits weight. He looked at the woman slumped against the wall trying tounderstand what Lou was trying to tell him. He knew there was something there,something deep, but he just couldn't get it. He held the gun and pointed it atthe woman's head. He waited. When her eyes opened, he pulled the trigger. Mortallowed himself to look up at the sun peeking through the hole in the roof ofthe building.
Chapter 16: Like Worms in the Sun
Amid the pounding of the dead, Joan watched Blake with aworrying eye. He was sleeping now, but things could go from bad to worse. Shehad cleaned, bandaged, and stitched his wounded hand as best she could, but thechance for infection was great. Who knew what type of bacteria was residing inthe mouths of those polar bears.
"Is he gonna be alright?" Mort asked.
Joan honestly didn't know. She said nothing.
They were in the downstairs offices, sitting on the floorand in some swiveling chairs that they had liberated from a pod of cubicles.Clara sat in one of the swivel chairs, looking somewhat nervous. Joanunderstood. The banging of the dead wasn't necessarily loud, but the incessantnature of it tended to grate on the nerves after a while. They had beenlistening to it for hours.
It sounded as if the dead had no intention of going away.The pounding hadn't ceased; it had grown.
"How many of them do you think are out there?"Clara asked.
Katie smirked, an evil sort of smile, and said,"Enough." Then she went right back to looking at her hand. The bloodhad stopped flowing, and the stitched remains of her fingers were crusted with scabsthat had turned reddish black.
They lapsed into silence amid the monotonous bangingagainst the walls. Lou sat in the corner, a towel to his now scarred face. Hewas lucky he hadn't lost an eye, and Joan once again wished for more medicalsupplies. Some antibiotics would be handy right about now. She had cleaned thewound as best she could with some soap from the office bathroom and somebottled water, but the amount of crap floating around in these uncleaned spaceswas enough to lead to infection.
Joan was tired, but she knew that Lou's face was going toneed stitches. She sighed heavily and began rooting through her bag for theproper equipment. She was down to her last suture needle, and she was almostout of sterilizing iodine wipes. They would have to keep their eyes open formore first aid kits, although most home-bought first-aid kids didn't come withsuture needles. She would save this last one and boil it in some water ifnecessary. It would be better to seal a wound with a possibly infected needle thanit would be to
