Empire's End

Thirty-Five / Severance

Ernie ran into the squadroom and locked the door behind him, then grabbed hold of the nearest desk and started building a barricade.

“Officer!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Casey came rolling out of his office, a shotgun resting across his lap, and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“They’re everywhere! There’s nothing we can do!” Ernie panted as he dragged desks. “It’s all coming apart out there. It’s already over, man!”

“Those don’t sound like the words of a peace officer—” Casey began.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Ernie yelled. “You’re holed up in here! You haven’t seen it! They’re pulling women and children into the streets and ripping them to pieces! And they’re almost here!”

“I expected better from you,” Casey said. Wheeling himself over to the nearest window, he pulled the blinds down without looking outside.

“Help me over here, Ernie.”

“Forget the windows, man! We’ve gotta secure the door!”

“I am still your superior!”

A window on the other end of the room shattered. Casey saw a dark blur fall into the room, between two desks.

“What the hell was that?” Ernie cried.

“Shhh.” Casey picked up the shotgun and waited for the rotter to show itself. But none did; there was only the faint sound of dead skin rustling.

The dark shape flew across the aisle and disappeared among the desks again. What was it, a child? “Ernie,” Casey whispered, and nodded toward the place where the thing had gone.

Ernie shook his head.

“Ernie!” Casey hissed.

“You’ve got the gun! You go!”

Tiny feet padded across the floor. The thing was weaving in and out of the desks, drawing ever closer. Casey took aim at the end of the aisle and waited.

The scampering stopped. Ernie crouched behind his barricade.

Silently cursing, Casey began to move forward. Just a child, he told himself. A child already dead. I won’t hesitate.

The Dwarf leapt onto the nearest desk. Casey’s jaw dropped at the sight. Then the rotter jumped into his lap and sank its claws into his face.

Ernie shot across the squadroom like a fucking bolt, faster than he’d ever moved in his career, and dove into Casey’s office, slamming the door shut.

Casey rolled backwards with the tiny rotter thrashing atop him. The shotgun clattered on the floor. He screamed and pummeled the Dwarf with his fists, trying to knock it loose, but it had its fingers beneath his skin and blood was pouring down the front of his shirt as his face began to come off.

The wheelchair hit the wall. The Dwarf closed its fingers around Casey’s left eyeball and ripped it free of the socket. Casey’s vision was skewed wildly as the eye came loose. The optic nerve was still connected when the Dwarf popped the organ into its mouth; its teeth finally severed Casey’s sight. He wailed.

The Dwarf hopped down and surveyed the room. It heard Ernie pushing Casey’s desk against the office door. It charged at the door, seizing the knob and scratching and kicking at the wood. Ernie screamed from within.

Casey sat and watched numbly as blood pooled in his lap, streaming in dark rivers from his ragged face. Why had it left him to go after Ernie? Why wasn’t he dead?

No matter. He soon would be.

Gregory sped down the road from the airfield in Gillies’ Hummer. He had plenty of guns and ammunition in the back. He was going to drive straight into Gaylen and bring Armageddon back to those godless monsters.

The British had filed out of the plane and begun shambling across the tarmac. They were too slow and too decayed to catch any of the other Senators before they and their men fled. No one had questioned Senator Gillies’ fate. It was every man for himself now — as it always had been, but now without the democratic posturing.

“For you, Barry,” he muttered, jostling as he left the road and headed directly for the city.

The streets downtown were flooding with people.

Some were trying to fight the undead. Though they had the rotters beaten in sheer numbers, stark panic and lack of weapons made it a losing battle for the living. Spilled blood ate at the growing snowdrifts. Soon the humans began retreating west. Those who stayed behind slipped in the guts of their neighbors and were torn apart.

There was little biting. The pack knew that if they bit their prey, they’d be losing meat. And the meat was all they cared about.

“We’re chewing through ammo pretty quick here!” Tripper called as people streaked past him.

Cam nodded. “Fall back to the storehouse!”

They ran for the soup kitchen, Halstead in the lead with Lily clinging to her back. “I’m scared,” the girl whimpered.

“I’m fucking terrified,” the cop replied.

“Thanks.”

“Door’s locked!” Halstead cried. Tripper stuck his key in the lock and turned the knob. He was met with firm resistance. Someone was inside, and they’d blocked the door.

“Hey! Whoever’s in there, let us in!” he yelled. “You’ve got to let us in! We can help you!”

“We left the cellar open,” muttered Cam. “They’re set. They’re not going to listen to us.”

“All right.” Tripper glanced down the street and saw a wave of undead sweeping over the civvies. He sighed. “Cathouse.”

High overhead, an apartment exploded; ruptured generator. They fled through a shower of burning debris.

When they entered the dark front hall of the cathouse, Cam caught Tripper’s shoulder and whispered, “Listen.”

There was a metallic whine coming from elsewhere in the building. Then a long, mournful scream.

Cam took point with machine gun in hand. Tripper locked the door they’d come through. It wouldn’t hold long.

Cam descended the stairs to the basement corridor where the girls’ rooms were. The whine was much louder now, and more distinct: a gas-powered saw. It was coming from the last room. Cam slowly made her way to the door. There were more screams, a man’s screams. She reared back and kicked the door in.

Logan stood over a dismembered rotter, chainsaw held high over his head. He wailed and plunged it into the chest of the spasming corpse.

“What the fuck!” Cam snapped. Logan turned and stumbled, dropping the saw on the floor. Cam kicked it over to the wall and trained her gun on the soldier’s head. “You’ve lost it.”

“No!” He held trembling hands out in protest. The others joined Cam in the doorway.

“Don’t look,” Halstead told Lily.

“Too late,” Lily said.

“I just didn’t want her to burn.” Logan stroked the fake hair on the rotter’s decapitated head. “She never did anything wrong. She shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“What do you mean, burn?” Tripper asked.

“The Army’s going to torch the entire city,” Logan said. “Orders from Cullen. They’re lighting up the perimeter right now.”

Halstead’s face fell. “So it’s over.”

“Maybe for Gaylen, but not the other cities.” Walking over to Logan, Tripper nudged him aside and felt along the wall until he found a crack gummed with blood. He knocked, and they all heard the hollow sound.

Tripper pulled the panel away to reveal a dark passage. “Cam,” he called. She resumed leading the group, now including Logan and his saw.

Tripper replaced the panel behind them. “This used to be part of the sewer system,” he said. They stood in a tunnel with no light source. Tripper felt along the floor until he found the torch he’d placed there. Igniting it with his lighter, he passed it to Halstead. “Mind the kid.”

“Meyer uses some of these tunnels to run drugs,” Tripper said as they walked, “but he doesn’t come this far downtown.”

“Speaking of which,” Cam said, “we should probably find a tunnel going back east. We’ll avoid more rotters that way.”

“Good idea baby.”

The couple led the way through winding, fetid sewers. It was so quiet beneath the city. It almost seemed like the world wasn’t coming down right over their heads.

They entered a tunnel lit by lanterns, with several crates stacked along the walls. “Booze,” Tripper said. “We’re on Meyer’s turf now. Gotta keep an eye out for his goons.”

Cam stopped at a ladder. She took the torch from Halstead and held it up to the shaft from which the ladder descended. “Looks like a trapdoor up there.”

“Let’s not bother with it,” Tripper said.

“Might be ammo up there.”

“You’re right.” He grabbed the rung above the one she was holding. “But I’m taking point this time.”

Halstead let Lily down. “You go ahead of me, okay?”

They ascended into the dark shaft. Tripper nudged the trapdoor with the barrel of an Uzi. “It’s open.”

He rose swiftly, throwing the door back. Three men with pistols gawked at him.

Lily cringed as she heard gunfire being sprayed up above. People dying left and right. Would any of them be alive in the end?

“Clear!” Tripper called down, and they each in turn climbed up through the trapdoor.

It was a long room lit by firelight and filled with tables and chairs. A long counter ran along one wall, behind which were stocked bottle of liquor.

“Speakeasy,” Cam said.

Lily stepped over the bullet-riddled arm of one of the goons. “Is it safe?”

“I don’t know,” Cam replied. “We shouldn’t stay long. Em, grab their guns will you?”

Logan pulled a chair out and sat down, slouching like a man who’d given up.

Tripper hopped up on the bar. “Cullen… why did Cullen give the order to burn the city? What about Gillies?”

“Dead,” Logan said.

“Karma’s a bitch.” Tripper shrugged.

“And what’ll you call it when you die?” Logan muttered.