We decided to hunker down and see what gives. Maybe we can find a safe haven. The helo is hanging in the area, obviously looking for us. Then this booming voice from a speaker starts in, “You are entering the quarantined City of Spokane. You are in violation of martial law. Surrender to authorities or you will be considered hostile and shot on sight.”
It only took Greg and I a look at one another to silently agree that there was no way in hell we would be “surrendering” to anybody. After what seemed like forever, the helo moved away, but since it kept repeating its message, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know where we were.
As soon as we decided it was safe—or at least as safe as it would get—we ran for it. The plan was to get across that bridge and then south to the medical district where a couple of hospitals and a bunch of medical centers are.
The hope was that, while it would seem likely that the military would hit these places, that just maybe they hadn’t been picked clean. We could see one of the hospitals from the windows of the top floor of that frighteningly empty office building. There was a lot of zombie activity on the ground. So, while risky, it seemed possible that there would be some goods available to scavenge.
We were staying close to the right side of the road as we approached the bridge. The blockade was unmanned and we had a few zombies to deal with, but Greg and I hit that bridge at a dead run. Scrambling over the twisted metal and jumbled pile of mangled vehicles, we fought our way past the handful of zombies that had seen fit to hang out in what had to have been slim pickings as far as warm bodied victims were concerned.
That was precisely when the second helo—hell, maybe it was the same one—swept in. We were halfway across when the sound of rotors came hard and fast from the north. At first I thought I could make the other side.
Nope.
The last time I saw Greg, he was almost across the bridge…well ahead of me. I did the only thing I could do…I jumped.
Once again I have to say that the movies make that sort of action look way cooler than it is. The impact knocked most of the wind from me. The icy coldness of the water stole the rest. I broke the surface and damn near drowned when I gasped and inhaled a mouthful of water.
There is noise of all sorts now. Helicopter rotors, moaning hordes of undead coming to the source of such racket…oh yeah…and machinegun fire. All I could do is snatch a breath and duck under, swimming for a shore that was becoming increasingly less safe as droves of Spokane’s zombie population were now arriving.
Once my feet could touch bottom, I kept moving downstream, staying underwater as long as possible. I finally saw a gap and made a dash. That damned helo was swooping around as I hit dry ground. Now it was a race to a narrow street where I would be down to only one enemy to face head-on. I could feel the hum in my feet as bullets tore up the grass behind me. I had to dodge a couple of nearby zombies who of course turned in pursuit as I sped past.
I heard the helo roar overhead as I ducked into a parking garage. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and I knew that this place was not anywhere I would want to hang out in for long.
A tall blonde wearing nothing but the sagging, unraveling remnants of a dark blue turtleneck sweater was lurching for me from behind a red sportster that had been tee-boned by an SUV some weeks past. I managed to swat her aside with my bat, but there were plenty more hungry mouths coming.
I decided that running up the nearby ramp would only lead to me being trapped on the top floor. So, I spun left and vaulted over a four foot high concrete divider, and back into the open.
A sign above a sturdy looking door hung askew right across the street: Hangman’s Tavern. I made it to the door, which was blessedly unlocked, jerked it open and ducked inside. The air was stale, but it definitely smelled like a bar. Light flooded from the back wall which I quickly discovered to be a panoramic façade of huge picture windows that looked out on the creek which provided the establishment’s name. My good fortune held as I saw that a deck was on the backside of this tavern, suspended a good ten feet above ground. That would explain why the windows were still intact.
A dull thud on the door I now leaned against made me jump. I checked, but could find no way to lock the door without having a key. So, after a quick visual inventory, I grabbed a few tablecloths and tied them from the door handle to the banister of the stairs. It wasn’t too difficult of a fix. Next, I piled enough furniture to create a solid obstacle in the entryway between door and stairs. Then, I went up and chanced a look outside.
I still heard the helo, but it was a good distance away and seemed to be receding. Not too many zombies were visible. I imagine most are out front, but there aren’t any windows on that part of the building, just this rear view.
I found a jar of olives and those horrible fake cherries, some bags of peanuts and pretzels, and all sorts of things to drink including bottled water. It has been dark for hours, but I can still hear them out front.
When I went through my stuff, I was really frustrated to discover I’ve lost my radio and my spare magazines. I don’t know how my pack came open or where, but I do know I am alive, and that counts for something. I’ll do my best to catch some sleep. But, now that I’ve been here a while, I’m hearing a sound that has me almost more concerned than the zombies outside my door.
Lots of sporadic gunfire.
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Tuesday, April 1
I awake with a shudder…and I must’ve yelled because my daughter Beth almost dropped the tray she was carrying with my favorite breakfast: Four eggs over easy, a half rack of thick maple-bacon, fresh grated hash browns with minced garlic, seven grain toast, real butter and marmalade, an ice cold glass of milk, and a steaming cup of fresh ground Millstone Morning Blend coffee, black.
“Ummm…good morning?” Beth’s raised eyebrow was about as much concern as a teenage daughter can show a father and maintain her aloof image.
“I had the worst nightmare,” I sat up, rubbing my hands together. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“You better be kidding,” she placed the tray on my lap, adjusting the legs so I wouldn’t bump it with my clumsy moving about.
I thought it over. Birthday? No. Father’s day? Nope, that’s in June. Damn.
“You win,” I stabbed an egg yolk so I could swab my bacon through it.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Megan will be thrilled. You really don’t know?”
“She’s picking up the last of her crap?”
“Dad!” Beth walked to my closet and pointed to the tuxedo hanging on the door.
“She died?”
“Have you been drinking with The Muses?”
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to cut me some slack. I had the worst damned nightmare last night.”
“You’re getting married in six hours. If I were you, I’d eat breakfast and take a shower. We can’t share this story with Megan until your guys’ tenth anniversary.” Beth walked over to the window and opened the curtains. The sunlight was so bright it hurt my eyes.