Jessie tested the strength of the cables, the only part of his plan he wasn’t sure of, but they were solid and the building was taller than the electric poles. He looped the belts over the wires and pushed off, sliding smoothly down and slowing a little by tightening the belt. He was at the rear of the building in a little alley filled with garbage cans, chained up bicycles and a work van with flat tires. Jessie shimmied down the pole and left the horde behind, most of them still trying to force their way inside the building. He cut over a few blocks then jogged towards the river. He made it to the train tracks, avoided the crawlers and followed the rails to the bridge. There wasn’t a zombie in sight and the crew were hustling the equipment down to the sailboat. He could barely hear the roar of the horde and wondered how long they would keep the circle up. Eventually the pile of unmoving dead would be high enough that the ones tumbling out wouldn’t get splattered but with a little luck, they might be at it for hours. They would keep rushing into the building then up the stairs and out onto the balcony. A lot of them made it up the final flight to the roof but that was okay, too. If he came back in a year, most of them would probably still be up there.
The soldiers in the fireman’s chain passing the supplies down to the boat looked up in surprise when Jessie came jogging up, barely winded. He still looked like hell, was still covered in gore and crusty blood, but he was grinning. Wallace turned to greet him, maybe even pull the crazy bastard into a bear hug but the smell stopped her when she got close.
“How?” she started but shook her head.
“Never mind. Tell us when we get back.” She said. “We’re almost finished here.”
“You stink.” She added and wrinkled her nose but with a smile. She had thought he’d suicided himself to let them get away and was pretty damn glad he hadn’t.
They’d all almost died to get the meds, the risk was high, but it would have been much higher if he hadn’t been there. More than likely, none of them would have made it back. They hadn’t died, though. They had survived, lived through a terrifying couple of hours and now they were feeling jubilant. Feeling alive. They would mourn the two friends that were lost but they would do it later. The living had work to do.
They knew they wouldn’t be going back until winter and a hard freeze, nobody would be crazy enough to try. The towns were too dangerous, the cost had been too high, even with the help of the Road Angel.
Jessie waded a few feet out into the inlet under the bridge and splashed the cold water over his leathers to get some of the zombie slop off of him. As he was cleaning his blades, Natalie paddled up in the kayak.
“Everything go okay?” he asked.
“Just like you said.” She beamed, proud of herself. “I sped up just before I got to the pull off. Had plenty of time to lock it up and get down to the water before the first one came running in.”
“You did good.” Jessie said and dipped his cupped hands in the water to wash his face.
“What happened to you?” she asked “Did you fall in a dumpster full of guts or something? Ewww. What’s that in your hair?”
“Come here, I’ll show you.” He said and took a step towards her.
“Gross, no.” she said and started back paddling. “You need a real bath, I can smell you from here.”
Jessie splashed her and the girl giggled as she turned into the slow-moving current and joined the others as they paddled for the pickup point across the river. They probably could have paddled back up stream to the island but it would have been hard going fighting the current the whole way. Much easier to angle across and toss the canoes and kayaks in the back of a truck.
“We’re finished.” Wallace said as she came down the embankment. “Boat’s loaded and a few of the deaders found us. They’re stumbling along the tracks, there’ll be more in a few minutes.”
Jessie doused his head in the chilly water, ran his fingers through his hair to comb it out then followed her onto the gangway, untying the ropes as he went. With her help he unfurled the sails and set a course up river. They were fighting the current and the wind but he zig zagged across the water in big, easy arcs. He told her it would take them a while to get there and he could sail it by himself if she wanted to see if there was anything to drink below deck. A whiskey would go good right about now. There was nothing like strong alcohol to wash the taste of undead blood out of your mouth.
The afternoon sun was shining down, the water rushed quietly past the hull and he was feeling content. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up to dry as he tacked lazily back and forth across the wide river and let the
