Don slowed down.
"What are you doing?" Martin asked.
"The headlights are shot out. Last thing we need is to run into something."
"True."
"I'm sorry I freaked out, back there in the garage," Don apologized.
"Don't worry about it," Martin assured him. "These things take some getting used to."
Don glanced into the backseat. "How bad is it?"
"She's been shot in the leg," Jim said, "and there's a bad gash on the back of her head. This dog bite is on top of the gunshot wound. She's lost a lot of blood. I reckon she's in shock. You got any clean rags in this thing?"
"There's a blanket underneath the seat. We used to use
it for Rocky, but I guess it's clean enough. Cleaner than the clothes we're wearing at least."
"Who's Rocky?"
"Our-our dog."
Jim opened a bottle of water and washed her wounds. Then he bandaged them as best he could, tearing the thin dog blanket into strips.
To their left, the New York City skyline rose into the night, the buildings resembling giant tombstones. Don shivered. The city was eerie.
He'd grown up with a view of the skyline and lived in its shadow his entire adult life. With the exception of a blackout, he had never seen it so utterly dark. The towering skyscrapers were enveloped in blackness.
All but one.
He pointed. "Would you look at that?"
Ramsey Towers, the second highest building in New York City, was lit up like a Christmas tree, the windows flooded with light. A colored strobe pulsed from red to blue on the roof, flashing a beam into the night sky.
Jim whistled softly and a moment later, Danny mimicked him. They grinned at each other.
"Could we make it there?" Martin asked.
"There are easier ways to commit suicide," Don said. "Do you have any idea how many zombies there must be in the five boroughs? New York's population was what, eight million? They didn't evacuate until it was too late, and how many people were killed during the riots and looting?
Not to mention all the wildlife; pigeons, rats, cats, and dogs."
"That's a lot of zombies," Jim agreed.
"Besides," Don said, "it's got to be a trap."
"What makes you say that?" Martin asked.
"Think about it, Reverend. If you were in a
skyscraper, would you light the building up and let all those creatures know where you were? That's like ringing the dinner bell."
"I reckon." Martin stroked his chin. "So what do you figure it is?"
"Like I said, it has to be a trap. I remember reading how self-sufficient that building was. Supposed to be able to withstand anything. Some of the zombies probably got the power running inside and lit it up, hoping to attract survivors like us."
"Like mosquitoes to a bug light," Jim said from the back. "Look, we've got to get some help for Frankie. We're better off heading out into the country, away from civilization. Even then, we're not safe. But at least it's somewhere other than here."
"There's a hospital nearby," Don said. "They just finished building it a few months ago. We could get what Frankie needs there. Find a doctor that's still alive."
"How populated is the area it's in?"
"Like everywhere else around here. But maybe one of us could sneak inside, steal some supplies at the very least."
Jim shook his head. "Too risky. Let's get out to the country first.
Maybe we can find a doctor's office or something. What about these Pine Barrens I'm always hearing about? How far away are they?"
Don laughed. "South. If you want country, the Pine Barrens are about as country as you can get. We've got about a half tank of gas, so we could make it that far. But I don't know how we'll refill the tank once we're empty. None of the pumps will work with the power off."
"God will provide," Martin said. His voice was dreamy, his attention focused on the skyscraper.
"If you say so," Don replied. "But God hasn't done a real good job so far."
"We're alive, aren't we?" Martin tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing light of the lone skyscraper. "He has seen us through. He wouldn't abandon his faithful servants now."
Don glanced into the rear-view mirror and froze.
"Oh no ..."
"What now?" Jim sighed.
Don's voice was barely a whisper
"You guys left the keys in your Humvee."
"What are you talking about?" Martin asked. "That doesn't matter. We can find another one."
"Don't need to find one. It found us."
Jim and Martin looked out the back window.
Their abandoned Humvee raced toward them, the headlights like the eyes of an onrushing dragon.
"Fuck, who's driving that thing?" Don shouted.
"Who do you think?" Jim scrambled for a weapon. "The zombies!"
More headlights appeared behind them; as cars, trucks, and a motorcycle joined the chase.
Don wiped the sweat from his brow. "It never ends, does it? It never fucking ends."
"Can they catch us?" Martin asked.
"I sure as hell hope not." Don pressed the accelerator to the floor and the Explorer shot forward.
There was a flash in the darkness and a muffled shot rang out behind them.
"Looks like they've reloaded," Jim said. "We'd better do the same."
"I'm empty," Don grunted.
Martin nodded. "Me too. I used it all saving Frankie."
Jim reached into the back and grabbed Frankie's M-16. He checked the magazine and then thumped the seat in frustration.
"She's empty, too."
The Explorer bounced over some railroad tracks. Another explosion made them jump. The shot hit the rear bumper with a loud crack.
"We've still got the hatchet," Don said.
"Oh, well that's just great. What do we do-throw it at them?"
Their pursuers closed the distance. A red Mazda darted out from behind the Humvee and drew alongside. A zombie leaned out the window, holding an aerosol can. With its other hand, the thing held up a lighter.
Don stared in confusion.
"What the fu-"
The creature flicked the lighter and then depressed the button on top of the can. A burst of flame surged toward them, licking at the driver's side window.
"Jesus Christ," Jim shouted. "Who is this guy- McGuyver?"
Startled, Don swerved away. The driver of the Mazda followed, sideswiping the larger vehicle. There was a hideous shriek of metal as the two collided and then the Explorer ripped free.
"A homemade flamethrower," Don gasped. "I know you guys said these things were crafty, but this ..."
Danny started crying. Jim slid an arm around his shoulders, and tried to brace him and comfort him at the same time.
"It'll be okay. It'll be-"