Epilogue 2.10

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---Em---


     As we head for the tunnel entrance, we run into a brunette of about seventeen or so. She cradles an infant in her arms. The infant stares up at the brunette's face with that confused yet calm sort of look. The brunette hums out to Jun. The infant's light auburn curls ripple like waves as she rolls her tiny head from side to side.

     "Rachel." Jun wipes the sweat from his brow.

     "You're leaving too?"

     He nods.

     "What about Sophie?" Rachel rocks the child, who can't be any older than two. "You're just going to abandon her? You're all she has left."

     "I'm not." Jun props his hunting rifle up against his shoulder. "I'll bring Jewel back." He goes and pats Sophie on the head. She giggles and wraps her tiny fingers around his thumb. "You'll take care of her?"

     "Of course," says Rachel. "That's my job." She looks over at Ace. "I hope you don't pull anything stupid. What you do out there... it doesn't just affect us." She looks down at Sophie. "It affects them."

     Ace sighs. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

     Rachel throws him a sharp look but doesn't argue any further. "Come on, Sophie," she says in an exaggerated tone. "Time for daycare."

     "Daycare?" I ask once she's gone.

     "Rachel's idea," says Ace. "She takes the children down to the lab every day, lets them play in one of the back rooms while Wates does his research. Better than having them running around down here. Fifty percent less rat."

     I nod. The façade of normalcy is important nowadays. Especially for the young ones, who don't have a hell of a lot of those happy pre-apocalypse memories to comfort them at night. And the fact that this research facility of theirs is safe enough to accommodate children sets my mind at ease as far as Gail's safety is concerned.

     This time, when we reach the tunnel entrance, Lanky, Portly, and Muscled step aside for us. As we make our way through the subway tunnel for the fourth time now, I can't help but notice Jun's posture. The way he holds the rifle conveys a lack of confidence; this kid has no idea what he's getting himself into. And, frankly, I find the fact that I'm even inclined to call him a kid, despite his being at least a year or two older than I am, unsettling.

     "You sure you'll be able to manage out there on your own?" I ask. Can't say I don't sympathize with the guy. Hell, we're out here doing the exact same thing: rescuing one of our own. Difference is I won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to get Comma back.

     "He won't be on his own," says Gisela, her pigtails bouncing as she hops over a pile of debris.

     I stop walking. "Hang on. I thought Ace said—"

     "That you need someone to show you the way to Dante's place?" Gisela raises an eyebrow. "Ace knows the route just fine. Thing is, Wates wouldn't have let me leave if he knew I was heading for the woods."

     Now, I haven't seen Gisela in action, but I can tell from the way she grips her pistols that she knows what she's doing. I'd be lying if I said it doesn't shake my confidence a little to learn that she won't be infiltrating the demon lair alongside us.

     "While we're on the subject," says Mya, "don't you reckon it's best if Crawford and I join Gisela's group instead?"

     Now we all stop walking.

     "How's that?" asks Topher, still red in the eyes. "This is already a suicide mission. If it's just the three of us—"

     "She has a point," says Ace. "We're not planning a siege here. We sneak in, grab Comma, and sneak the hell out before they can spot us. When it's down to stealth, the smaller the group, the better."

     I can't say that I'm happy about it, but that does make sense from a tactical point of view. Not that I'm an expert strategist. "What do you think?" I ask Crawford—you can always count on him to give you an honest opinion, no matter how brutal.

     "I think we're screwed either way," he says. "But I suck at the whole ninja schtick. I'm not exactly an easy target to miss, either. Because I'm big-boned, of course. Where do you think I get my super strength?"

     So that's settled.

     "Splitting the party," Topher mutters. "Never a good idea."

     "I can vouch for that," I say. "But I think Gisela's right. We should split up."

     Crawford nods. "Just don't go ripping through to some post-apocalyptic zombie world this time, yeah?"

     Ace's eyes widen. "You're a ripper?"

     "Was a ripper." My heart stings a little. "Not anymore."

     Ace switches off his arm cannon's flashlight feature when we reach the abandoned subway platform. We climb up and then hop over the turnstiles, as usual. Go up the stairs and out into the open. The sun shimmers above us, tainting everything green, like a bad camera filter.

     Crawford and I shake hands.

     "Good luck," I offer.

     "Likewise."

     I nod towards Mya. "Take care of him, will you?"

     She winks at me. And then they're off. With Gisela and Mya on their side, I have no doubt that they'll be able to hold their own. Our trio is a little more dubious. I've got my trusty bat, but Topher's unarmed. Until I figure out what the hell set him off back there in the infirmary, I'm going to hold on to that pistol for him.

     I step aside and take a practice swing with my bat. I'm not sure whether this is pseudo-Olivia's Em or good old Bryan talking, but it feels right. Now all that's missing is that satisfying crunch you get when the steel shatters brittle zombie skull.

     "We've got to cross the bridge," says Ace. "This time, try not to kill any of Dante's goons. I'll pay the toll."

     As we walk along the bridge, the brown, almost gelatinous river water sizzles beneath us. Black foam clings to the underside of the bridge. Our footfalls echo along the corroded metal. At the opposite end of the bridge, six demons guard the toll booth. The purple-scaled demon—Kag, I think his name was—stomps onto the bridge.

     The three of us stop walking, and Ace engages in a staring contest with the purple-scaled demon. Two of Kag's cronies flank him, while the other three demons hang back by their motorcycles. Kag seems awfully interested in my baseball bat. Maybe I ought to introduce the two of them.

     "We've got some business in the city," says Ace. He removes his arm cannon and hands it to me for safekeeping. Rolls up his right sleeve. "I'll pay the toll."

     Kag snorts, spewing steam from his nostrils. "New rules. No one gets past."

     "I wonder what Dante would say about that."

     "Dante?" Kag gets right up in Ace's face. Pokes him in the chest. "I don't give a damn what Dante says. This is my bridge." He hisses through his teeth. "And I say no one gets past."

     Ace turns around. We make eye contact. I ready my bat, but he doesn't give the signal. We're not engaging them? If we're going to fight, best do it here—if we can knock one or two of them into the river, that'll make things a whole lot easier.

     "On second thought," says Kag, "maybe I'll let you pass after all." He holds out his hand. One of the demons flanking him hands him a switchblade. He flicks it open. "But it'll cost you double."

     "Fine." Ace holds out his arm without hesitation. "Just get it over with."

     Kag chuckles, glances back at his cronies, and then plunges the blade right into Ace's gut. Ace staggers back and collapses. Topher catches him and sets him down on the steel walkway. The demon wipes the blade on his jacket sleeve. "Done already? I'm just getting started."

     I clench the grip of my bat. Get ready to swing.

     "Don't." Ace reaches for his arm cannon. I let him have it. But he doesn't attack the demons. "Not worth it."

     The demons get a good laugh out of watching Topher and I carry Ace back across the bridge. We don't stop until we get him to safety, or at least what passes for safety in an abandoned city full of collapsed buildings and totalled vehicles. We set him down over by a patch of weeds that have sprouted over the sidewalk. Blood trickles out of his wound.

     "You need to cauterize it," says Ace, handing me the arm cannon.

     "I'm not sure how to—"

     "I'll do it." Topher signals for me to pass him the weapon. I'm reluctant to do so, but we're in a bit of a life-or-death situation here. I nod and let him equip the cannon. He powers it on almost intuitively. Apparently I'm not the only one who got an upgrade courtesy of one not-so-friendly deity. "What setting?"

     "Three should do it," says Ace, flinching in pain.

     Topher fiddles with a touch-screen panel on the top of the cannon. "Roll up his shirt."

     I do as I'm told. When Topher clicks the trigger, the cannon emits a thin, red beam. Ace winces a little as it grazes his skin. Quickly, but with a steady hand, Topher traces the beam along Ace's wound, closing it off. His precision makes his flying off the handle back at the infirmary even more bewildering.

     "Now what?" I ask.

     "Now we hope he didn't pierce anything important," says Ace. "And we wait them out."

     "You need medical attention."

     "Not going to get it." He spits to his left. "Erez is no surgeon. If I'm a dead man, there's nothing he can do to fix that."

     "Then we better hope you're not." I take my baseball bat and go smash in a couple of car windows to vent some pent-up frustration. When I'm through with the windows, I whack the hood a few times. I have to say, this is a sturdy bat—not a dent on it.

     Comma's counting on us. And yet here we are, playing wrecking crew and beating the crap out of pre-meds. If we can't even get past six demons, how are we supposed to take on a whole horde of them? We've got not choice but to play the stealth game. But none of that matters if we can't even cross the bridge. A single glance at that brown sludge that passes for river water is enough to tell me there's no swimming across that. That's the kind of toxic waste that doesn't just make mutants; it melts them.

     "We shouldn't have split up," says Topher. "I knew that was a stupid idea."

     "We'll just have to wait them out," says Ace. "When the waves hit, not even the demons stick around for it. We'll cross the bridge after they leave, then duck into one of the old buildings for shelter. Head out again in the morning."

     I sigh. Glance up at the sun. It's not even noon yet. Hell of a wait until sundown. "If we're just going to sit around all day, we may as well head back to the..." Topher and I exchange glances—we're both thinking the same thing. We can't go back. Not after what he did to Erez.

     "I'm not going anywhere," says Ace. "Some wounds you just don't walk off. I'm going to sit on my ass and wait for sundown. Why don't you make yourselves useful and find us something to eat. Let's not dip into our supplies just yet. We'll need to fuel up tomorrow morning."

     Wates wasn't exactly generous with the rations; he let us take a can of creamed corn, three carrots, a rock-solid loaf of rye, and a bag of potato chips. And I lost the carrots and potato chips to Crawford in a game of rock-paper-scissors.

     Not to worry. There's plenty to be had in the way of food if you thoroughly search the overgrowth. Topher and I scrape up a few handfuls of nuts, seeds, and questionable-looking mushrooms. I also happen to find a chocolate bar in the glove compartment of a sedan. Well past its expiry date, most likely, but what isn't these days?

     "So," I say as I chew on a couple of seeds, "you've been here how long?"

     "Just a couple years," says Ace. "Place before this was much worse. I had to get my sister out of there." He falls silent for a moment. "At least she's in a better place now. I'm not that religious, but I mean... even nowhere's better than here."

     "I beg to differ. Actually, screw the begging; I just differ."

     "You mean the nothing."

     "Capital N." I make a grab for one of the mushrooms, but Ace shakes his head.

     "You don't want to eat that. Trust me."

     Topher, who downed three of them on the way here, goes pale in the face. "Why's that?"

     "Were gas station hot dogs a thing back where you come from?"

     "Uh huh."

     "Well that's why."

     Topher clutches his stomach. I'm glad I didn't do any snacking on the way here. I offer him the chocolate bar. "Here. Have some rotten chocolate to wash it down."

     "Hold that thought." Topher takes off. He ducks behind a minivan. We hear retching sounds coming from behind it. Ah, what the hell. I take a bite of the chocolate bar anyway. Tasteless, but not rancid. Besides, my stomach's steeled to out-of-date food at this point.

     "I am sorry for the part I played in bringing you guys into this," says Ace, chomping down a handful of the remaining mushrooms.

     My eyes widen. "I thought you said those weren't edible."

     "I lied. More for me."

     "But he's..."

     "The power of suggestion, my friend. Not to be underestimated." Ace chews a mouthful of mushroom. "I didn't think he'd vomit though. That's going to sap some of his strength. Not my intention. Maybe we let him break off a piece of that rye."

     And so, with little to keep up our stomachs satisfied, we pass the time until sunset. I try to keep us occupied with a series of little games Olivia, Colby, and I used to play—stupid things like spell out your name using the first letters of whatever's in your line of sight. Dull, sure, but better than dwelling on what could very well be our impending deaths.

     When we hear the cry of a lone pterodactyl making its rounds, we know the time has come. Ace hasn't fully healed, obviously. But he's able to walk, albeit with a bit of a limp. We gradually make our way back to the bridge. By the time we get there, I count three pterodactyls circling the sky above us like vultures. Except they don't need to wait until we're dead to begin feasting.

     The demons seem to have packed it in for the evening—their motorcycles are nowhere to be seen. One of the pterodactyls dives a little lower. Suddenly I'm thinking this wasn't such a great idea. We're halfway across the bridge when we hear something shuffling inside the toll booth.

     Kag emerges from the booth, licking his lips. "Had a feeling you'd be back."


Author's Note:

It's been a while since our last showdown, hasn't it? Forget Em and Kag—my money's on the pterodactyl!

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