realized he had taken his first step on the path to self-atonement.
"I'm going to make up for it."
They gathered their belongings and with a last, perfunctory check of the building, they walked outside to the car.
The rain had stopped.
90
Raindrops fell like tears from a black tar god-or drops of rancid milk from a dead mother's breast. The industrial residue that Baltimore's recently defunct factories had spewed into the sky for decades was now falling back down to be claimed by the earth.
Emerging from the sewer, Frankie baptized herself in the slick rain, luxuriating in the oily film that it left behind. She imagined the pollutants burning away her old self, revealing the new. She'd just come from hell. "Troll." she whispered.
She shivered, remembering her escape from the zoo and what happened after. The first zombie tumbled down the manhole shaft after her, hitting the tunnel floor and rupturing like a sack of rotten vegetables; its innards spilling out around it. The shattered limbs wriggled like worms, then lay still. Covered in gore, Frankie fired blindly up the shaft, deterring the rest.
Page 69
The tunnel was pitch black. She had a flash of memory; from the distant past before the smack and turning tricks to get more smack became her life. A murderer in Las Vegas had once eluded the authorities'
91 dragnet by using a sewer drain to escape. The man was underground for five hours and, according to maps, he'd trudged at least four miles. She wondered how dark it was in the drain, what he'd encountered and what he was thinking. Was the hardened felon frightened? When he finally saw light at the tunnel's end, was he relieved?
What if there was no light at the end of her tunnel?
She slogged forward, fingers trailing along the invisible wall to her right, feeling the slimy dampness.
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. Another snippet of the past; from Mr. Yowaski's class, right before she'd started screwing him in exchange for a passing grade in English. She wondered who or what might be lurking down here; crackheads, deranged survivors, zombies. What was hiding in the dark, watching her even now? Weren't there alligators in the sewer? Maybe in Florida, but she didn't think Baltimore suffered from that particular urban blight. But there were rats; of that she was sure. She had no idea how many shots she had left, and couldn't tell in the darkness. How could she possibly fend off a swarm of hungry rats?
She yawned, shivering as the first chills of withdrawal set in. Large goosebumps broke out on her skin. Cold Turkey, they called it, because you looked like a fucking plucked bird when it hit.
She paused. Was there something there, in the dark? A soft padding sound faded and stopped.
She stood still, holding her breath. The sound was not repeated. She shuffled forward, flinching when her fingers came in contact with something round and metallic. After a moment's experimentation, she realized that it was a doorknob.
Unlocked.
Taking a deep breath, she turned it. The door grated open. Particles of dust flaked down into her hair and eyes.
The space beyond the door was even darker than the
92 tunnel. Carefully, she stepped through the opening and pulled the door shut behind her. There was no draft of air. No sound. She could sense walls but she could not see them. A maintenance or storage room of some kind, she guessed. She was safe for now.
Page 70
Or was she?
What if there was a zombie in here with her, lurking in the darkness, waiting to lunge out and eat her? She sniffed the air. It was stale and damp, but there was no telltale smell of the putrefaction that signaled one of the undead. There was no rasp of flesh or exposed bone, no whisper of something moving.
Crouching on all fours, she crawled forward. Her hands traced the alien outlines of unfamiliar objects. Then she collided with a wall. She put her back to it and began to twitch.
The hot flashes followed, and though she couldn't see her ears,
"I'm going to make up for it."
They gathered their belongings and with a last, perfunctory check of the building, they walked outside to the car.
The rain had stopped.
90
Raindrops fell like tears from a black tar god-or drops of rancid milk from a dead mother's breast. The industrial residue that Baltimore's recently defunct factories had spewed into the sky for decades was now falling back down to be claimed by the earth.
Emerging from the sewer, Frankie baptized herself in the slick rain, luxuriating in the oily film that it left behind. She imagined the pollutants burning away her old self, revealing the new. She'd just come from hell. "Troll." she whispered.
She shivered, remembering her escape from the zoo and what happened after. The first zombie tumbled down the manhole shaft after her, hitting the tunnel floor and rupturing like a sack of rotten vegetables; its innards spilling out around it. The shattered limbs wriggled like worms, then lay still. Covered in gore, Frankie fired blindly up the shaft, deterring the rest.
Page 69
The tunnel was pitch black. She had a flash of memory; from the distant past before the smack and turning tricks to get more smack became her life. A murderer in Las Vegas had once eluded the authorities'
91 dragnet by using a sewer drain to escape. The man was underground for five hours and, according to maps, he'd trudged at least four miles. She wondered how dark it was in the drain, what he'd encountered and what he was thinking. Was the hardened felon frightened? When he finally saw light at the tunnel's end, was he relieved?
What if there was no light at the end of her tunnel?
She slogged forward, fingers trailing along the invisible wall to her right, feeling the slimy dampness.
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. Another snippet of the past; from Mr. Yowaski's class, right before she'd started screwing him in exchange for a passing grade in English. She wondered who or what might be lurking down here; crackheads, deranged survivors, zombies. What was hiding in the dark, watching her even now? Weren't there alligators in the sewer? Maybe in Florida, but she didn't think Baltimore suffered from that particular urban blight. But there were rats; of that she was sure. She had no idea how many shots she had left, and couldn't tell in the darkness. How could she possibly fend off a swarm of hungry rats?
She yawned, shivering as the first chills of withdrawal set in. Large goosebumps broke out on her skin. Cold Turkey, they called it, because you looked like a fucking plucked bird when it hit.
She paused. Was there something there, in the dark? A soft padding sound faded and stopped.
She stood still, holding her breath. The sound was not repeated. She shuffled forward, flinching when her fingers came in contact with something round and metallic. After a moment's experimentation, she realized that it was a doorknob.
Unlocked.
Taking a deep breath, she turned it. The door grated open. Particles of dust flaked down into her hair and eyes.
The space beyond the door was even darker than the
92 tunnel. Carefully, she stepped through the opening and pulled the door shut behind her. There was no draft of air. No sound. She could sense walls but she could not see them. A maintenance or storage room of some kind, she guessed. She was safe for now.
Page 70
Or was she?
What if there was a zombie in here with her, lurking in the darkness, waiting to lunge out and eat her? She sniffed the air. It was stale and damp, but there was no telltale smell of the putrefaction that signaled one of the undead. There was no rasp of flesh or exposed bone, no whisper of something moving.
Crouching on all fours, she crawled forward. Her hands traced the alien outlines of unfamiliar objects. Then she collided with a wall. She put her back to it and began to twitch.
The hot flashes followed, and though she couldn't see her ears,
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