Grave New World by S.P. Blackmore

Author:S.P. Blackmore [Blackmore, S.P.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

SEVEN

I found Tony sitting near the bike the next morning. I think he slept next to it.

It wound up stashed in the ground floor lobby, since we couldn’t really roll it up the stairs. Tony identified it as a Harley-Davidson Road King, although it didn’t look like it had been king of anything for a few years. Someone had stripped off most of the paint, and the bike smelled like…well, like sulfur and dead people. “Will’s been working on this for awhile. He was getting close to finishing her up.”

Something about the bike didn’t look right. “There’s no pipes.”

“I can fix that.”

“And the engine’s…something’s wrong with the engine…” Not that I considered myself a motorcycle aficionado of any sort, but I’d seen enough Harleys in my life to know what a V-Twin was supposed to look like. Tony crouched down next to it and pulled at a contraption built up around the two cylinders. “This wasn’t on last time I saw it. I think this is some kind of filter…yeah, he’s got some mesh in here, and looks like he bolted up a funnel…” He sat back on his heels, eyeing the bike with what looked like new respect.

I blinked. “And?”

“It’s a rough system. He was probably experimenting.”

“But what does it do?”

“If it works right, it lets the thing run in all this ash.” He touched the worn saddlebags. “I don’t know how I’m gonna dig all that shit out of the Ford. It’s had its last run.”

Tony had said that every day for the last two years. Why should the endtimes be any different?

“Guys!” Dax called from upstairs. “The news is on again!”

We raced up the stairs.

Gloria Fey stood outside what looked like Behrens Hospital, accompanied by a doctor clad in a bloodied set of surgical scrubs. “This is Gloria Fey in the Midlands Cluster, broadcasting to…I don’t know who’s picking up the signal anymore. We’re on, right?”

“We’re on,” the cameraman said.

“Okay. I’m here with—I’m sorry, what was your name?”

The doctor glanced into the camera. “I’m Lisbeth Lattman.”

Gloria wiped her arm across her eyes. I had never seen her looking so tired—maybe it was just the lack of makeup, or maybe she really had been awake for all those hours. “Okay. The CDC keeps sending out missives telling us that the attacks near the impact sites are radiation-driven madness. But I’m here at Behrens with Dr. Lattman, who has seen some of these victims up close—”

“This is not radiation poisoning,” the doctor broke in. “I don’t care what the government handouts are saying. This is not some illness. They might die from whatever pathogen they take in at the impact site, but that same pathogen brings them back.”

“What do you mean, brings them back?” Gloria asked.

The doctor stared at her for a few seconds. “It reanimates them after they die.”

“So the dead are coming back to life?”

“Is this staged, or is she really this stupid?” Dax asked.

Tony slapped him upside the head. “She probably hasn’t slept in a week. Cut her a little slack.

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