officer puts away the gun and
the crowd loses interest as Mark gets dressed again.
“We have two situations,” Oretha
tells Becket. “People are stuck in the clock tower and the backup fuses for the
generator are missing.”
“What happened to the fuses?”
“The guy who got the generator
working was bit and dropped them in the Old Franklin School.”
“This guy came on a raft,” Oretha
volunteers and pats Mark on the shoulder.
“You can have my raft to retrieve
the fuses.”
“Good, take Steve to the Old Franklin School.”
“I don’t think you really need
me…”Mark says.
Becket barks, “It’s your civic
duty. Do it.”
Mark reluctantly follows Steve and
Oretha to the raft and climbs aboard. Steve boards and turns on the motor.
Oretha pushes the small vessel into the water.
“Good luck Steve. Don’t forget a
harbor wave is coming,” Oretha says.
“What’s a harbor wave?” Mark asks
as they motor out.
“This is a wave train that comes
before the big one.”
“This isn’t the big one?”
“It’s supposed to look like a huge
tidal wave. It’s all part of the tsunami but the harbor wave is the climax.”
They navigate around trees and
electrical poles poking out of the water. An older man shouts for help from the
limbs of a tree.
“Jump and swim to the raft!” Steve
yells.
The man leaps out of the tree and
doggie paddles to the raft. They haul him onboard.
“You ok?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m William,” the wet man says while brushing water out of short cropped dark hair.
“I’m Mark, this is Steve.”
“We’re going to the Old Franklin School to pick up fuses for the Old Post Office.”
“Oh, the Old Post Office
survived?”
“Yeah,” Mark replies.
“The zombies didn’t get them yet?”
“You mean the infected,” Steve
says.
“Infected? Sure, if you want to
call being an addict a disease,” William says.
On the corner of 13 th and K Street the ominous Franklin School looms over the raft. Steve maneuvers
to the side of the brown brick building.
“I need you to watch the raft,”
Steve tells William.
“You can count on me,” William says with a salute.
“Maybe William should go with you
instead,” Mark suggests.
“You afraid?” Steve asks.
“All this talk about zombies and
the infected is getting to me. Wasn’t this a homeless shelter?”
“Back in 2008,” William says.
“It looks empty enough, librarian.
You’ll be fine with me,” Steve says and directs Mark out of the raft.
Lifting his body through the
broken second story window is hard. Mark almost slips but Steve catches him by
the arm. The floor of the Grand Hall sags under an inch of water. Wood paneling
and paint peals from shabby old walls. He jumps seeing his refection in a mirror
at the base of the steps.
“Steve, this place looks like a
dump.”
Muffled voices drift from the
upper floors.
“Probably just some survivors,”
Steve says.
Mark follows Steve up a flight of
decaying steps. The voices are more audible on the third floor.
“There’s nothing here, bro,” a
gruff male says.
Another male voice adds, “My Zs
are wearing off, let’s go.”
Steve stumbles over a filthy
blanket and falls to his knees. Mark ducks into the stairwell as four men with
guns whip around. M2 fixes Steve with a crazed and deadly look.
“Where did he come from?” M2 asks.
Multiple gun pops echo down the hall. Steve howls in pain. Mark freezes, uncertain if he should
reach for the gun in the backpack. Loud thudding comes from the hallway.
“Run,” Steve gargles.
Mark runs down the stairs. The
thugs riddle Steve’s body with bullets and follow down the steps, hooting and
hollering like teenagers. Mark trips over a tool box stenciled with the city
are engineering logo and a dead engineer. He’s uncertain how they missed the
fuses and grabs a couple. Next, he fishes out a flashlight. Thinking fast, he
balances the flashlight on the tool box and shines the light at
the crowd loses interest as Mark gets dressed again.
“We have two situations,” Oretha
tells Becket. “People are stuck in the clock tower and the backup fuses for the
generator are missing.”
“What happened to the fuses?”
“The guy who got the generator
working was bit and dropped them in the Old Franklin School.”
“This guy came on a raft,” Oretha
volunteers and pats Mark on the shoulder.
“You can have my raft to retrieve
the fuses.”
“Good, take Steve to the Old Franklin School.”
“I don’t think you really need
me…”Mark says.
Becket barks, “It’s your civic
duty. Do it.”
Mark reluctantly follows Steve and
Oretha to the raft and climbs aboard. Steve boards and turns on the motor.
Oretha pushes the small vessel into the water.
“Good luck Steve. Don’t forget a
harbor wave is coming,” Oretha says.
“What’s a harbor wave?” Mark asks
as they motor out.
“This is a wave train that comes
before the big one.”
“This isn’t the big one?”
“It’s supposed to look like a huge
tidal wave. It’s all part of the tsunami but the harbor wave is the climax.”
They navigate around trees and
electrical poles poking out of the water. An older man shouts for help from the
limbs of a tree.
“Jump and swim to the raft!” Steve
yells.
The man leaps out of the tree and
doggie paddles to the raft. They haul him onboard.
“You ok?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m William,” the wet man says while brushing water out of short cropped dark hair.
“I’m Mark, this is Steve.”
“We’re going to the Old Franklin School to pick up fuses for the Old Post Office.”
“Oh, the Old Post Office
survived?”
“Yeah,” Mark replies.
“The zombies didn’t get them yet?”
“You mean the infected,” Steve
says.
“Infected? Sure, if you want to
call being an addict a disease,” William says.
On the corner of 13 th and K Street the ominous Franklin School looms over the raft. Steve maneuvers
to the side of the brown brick building.
“I need you to watch the raft,”
Steve tells William.
“You can count on me,” William says with a salute.
“Maybe William should go with you
instead,” Mark suggests.
“You afraid?” Steve asks.
“All this talk about zombies and
the infected is getting to me. Wasn’t this a homeless shelter?”
“Back in 2008,” William says.
“It looks empty enough, librarian.
You’ll be fine with me,” Steve says and directs Mark out of the raft.
Lifting his body through the
broken second story window is hard. Mark almost slips but Steve catches him by
the arm. The floor of the Grand Hall sags under an inch of water. Wood paneling
and paint peals from shabby old walls. He jumps seeing his refection in a mirror
at the base of the steps.
“Steve, this place looks like a
dump.”
Muffled voices drift from the
upper floors.
“Probably just some survivors,”
Steve says.
Mark follows Steve up a flight of
decaying steps. The voices are more audible on the third floor.
“There’s nothing here, bro,” a
gruff male says.
Another male voice adds, “My Zs
are wearing off, let’s go.”
Steve stumbles over a filthy
blanket and falls to his knees. Mark ducks into the stairwell as four men with
guns whip around. M2 fixes Steve with a crazed and deadly look.
“Where did he come from?” M2 asks.
Multiple gun pops echo down the hall. Steve howls in pain. Mark freezes, uncertain if he should
reach for the gun in the backpack. Loud thudding comes from the hallway.
“Run,” Steve gargles.
Mark runs down the stairs. The
thugs riddle Steve’s body with bullets and follow down the steps, hooting and
hollering like teenagers. Mark trips over a tool box stenciled with the city
are engineering logo and a dead engineer. He’s uncertain how they missed the
fuses and grabs a couple. Next, he fishes out a flashlight. Thinking fast, he
balances the flashlight on the tool box and shines the light at
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