Killer Z by Greg L. Miller Page A

the mirror. The
armed men stop on the steps and shoot the mirror.
    Mark launches himself through the
broken window and falls into the raft.
    Will iam blinks in confusion, “What…?”
    “They shot Steve,” Mark yells all
wild eyed.
    “Who shot Steve?”
    Mark explains what happened as William steers the raft to the Old Post Office. Oretha waits under one of the two remaining
arches and pulls them in.
    “Where’s Steve?” Oretha asks.
    “Sorry, he got gunned down at the Franklin School.”
    “No! Who gunned him down?”
    Mark hands over the fuses and
says, “We were walking up the stairs and theses guys just shot him.”
    “Everyone is dying today,” Oretha
murmurs, shaking his head.
    They enter the lobby and are
checked once more for bites. The woman leading the prayer group earlier hands
him a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Mark sits at a table and eats slowly, his
stomach churning. The coffee settles his nerves. His mind replays last moments
with his dad and Irina.
    “Hey,” Mark says to an officer.
“You guys need any more help? I can’t stand sitting here.”
    A passing maintenance worker
carrying a firemen’s axe and maul says, “I can use your help, chief.”
    “Mark, my name’s Mark.”
    “Lucas,” the burly man answers
with a curt nod. “You got a flashlight?”
    “No.”
    “It’s your lucky day. What do you
do Mark?” Lucas says and gives him a flashlight and the burdensome maul.
    Mark says, “I work at the Library
of Congress.”
    A tall, thin man joins them.
    “Nice to meet you librarian, this
here is Manny. Manny is a shift manager at one of the pavilion restaurants.
Manny, this is the Librarian.”
    “It’s Mark.”
    “Sure,” Manny replies.
    “We’re on search and rescue,”
Lucas says.
    “Sounds fun,” Mark answers.
    They climb many stairs and pass
through several hallways.
    “So you help people check out
books?” Lucas asks, making small talk as they walk.
    “No, I work with the scholars
within the Library of Congress, in the Kluge Center.”
    “Sorry, never heard of it. You
know, this building is pretty sound but who knows anymore with all the water
and shaking, so be careful.”
    Lucas directs them to a manmade
hole in the wall leading to the clock tower. The main tower entrance is blocked
by a pile of collapsed beams and bricks. They duck into the hole and enter a
conference room.
    “This used to be the conference
room for General Motors. My dad was a big shot for them. He used to screw
secretaries in that office over there,” Lucas says.
    They exit into a side hallway.
Historical still shots are scattered on the floor. At the end of the hall they
come to a stairwell littered with the bodies of men and woman who died trying
to flee.
    “This maintenance hall leads to
the clock tower. When the fire alarms sounded everyone panicked and many were
trampled,” Lucas says.
    Mark steps over the stomped and
broken bodies. At the top of the stairs they reach a wooden door blocked by
debris.
    “Is anyone in here?” Lucas shouts
and taps the axe to the wall.
    Muffled voices can faintly be
heard.
    They move aside chunks of fallen
concrete and take turns swinging the axe and maul until the door breaks down.
    “We’re rescued!” a teenager
squeaks.
    “How many are you?” Lucas asks.
    “Seven including myself,” the teen
answers. “I told you we would be rescued, Angela.”
    An attractive blonde in a navy
skirt suit says, “You were right. Are the trains operating to Silver Springs?”
    “The city is covered in ocean,”
Lucas says grimly.
    Her
face drops and Mark feels for her.
    “Here,
let’s get you downstairs. There’s coffee and sandwiches,” Mark says as he
offers her his hand. “It’ll be alright.”
    “Stop
flirting librarian. We need to get back to the others,” Lucas says.
     

 
     

    24
     
     
    “C ’mon!” Larry slurs and yanks Karen to her feet. “I saw helicopters on
the roof when we were on the street.”
    “But I’m tired,” Karen