2017:
Rain slickers and duct tape formed together to make what is essentially a giant open-topped trash bag, lining the inside of a metal monstrosity erector-setted together and looming over the roof like a booby-trap in an Indiana Jones movie or some tiny makeshift half-deathstar. Piping from the unusable bathrooms fitted together with a spigot at the end, hanging down obsenely like a giant metal phallus. Voila. A brand new water collection tank. It stands on legs, so it doesn't take up much real estate, though it does create a shade beneath it that requires some creative gardening. The legs are perfect for viney creatures like beans and peas, though.
But all the gardening comes later. Right now we get to haul dirt.
Giant metal posts are sunk deep into the ground up against the building, right alongside the warehouse door. The metal posts are capped with a thick metal rod. The posts are guideposts. The rod at the top is a stopper. Thick metal loops are welded onto the ends of a commercial-sized garbage container. The loops go around the posts. A metal cable attaches to the garbage container, loops around a pulley, and attaches to a winch hooked up to a generator. And voila, an elevator. Good for hauling dirt and supplies up, produce and supplies down.
"Zombies hunt based on proximity," Mayor Lipschitz says. "That entrance tunnel is long enough that they don't smell us at the end of it. Occassionally one or two will wander down, but one or two are easy. The zombies in the city can smell us, but there's no way in that way." He stops to heft a shovelful of dirt into the garbage container. A rock pings off of the side. He has thickened with food and work, his skin turned a deep bronze from the sun. Everyone looks a million times better. And it's more than being well-fed and excercised. It's hope.
"In the event that a horde of zombies approaches the tunnel, unlikely as that may be, we've rigged the first twenty yards or so with heavy explosives. It'll kill off a big chuck of them and seal the rest outside." He hefts another shovelful.
"Yeah," I say. "And seal you all in."
"Yep," he says. He wipes sweat from his forehead. "Don't think we didn't catch that. That's why that's our very last resort."
A woman named Tanya tells us that the container is full. She's taken over as foreman of this little project. "All on or all clear," she says. Half of us, myself and the mayor included, climb to the top of the dirt mound and settle in. The other half steps back. Once we're up, they'll go off and haul in more dirt for the next load. It's a long trek through the tunnel and they ride cycles with sidecars to use as wheelbarrows. They also take the only guns in town, other than the MC guns, with them for protection. When they're all clear, Tanya blows sharply on the rape whistle. The generator starts up and the winch starts hauling us skyward.
Bitch greets us at the top, yipping excitedly and jumping at my leg. I lift her and she starts licking my face ferociously. "Easy, lady," I tell her, and get a tongue in my mouth for the effort. I put her down and spit. I do have to admit that she looks pretty badass in the makeshift leather doggie jacket with a "PROSPECT" bottom rocker.
The work crew begins unloading the dirt and spreading it. There's a lot that's been done, but there's a long way yet to go. I see Guillermo and hurry over to him.
"Hey," I say to him.
"Hey."
"Where's Lucas?" I ask. I already know the answer. I already don't like the answer. I already hate myself for asking.
"He's off somewhere with Mercedes," he says.
Off somewhere with Mercedes is where he's been going a lot lately. He's my brother. I love the hell out of him and I wouldn't begrudge him anything, but I hate the little bastard. Because off somewhere with Mercedes is where I want to be. And he got there first.
It's not because she's beautiful, though she is. It's because of how I feel when she's around. I feel like I'm always just waiting for her to appear so that I can jump up in her arms and lick her face, or just stare at her with absolute adoration. In other words, I feel like I'm her Bitch.
Dante shuffles over and just stands too close to me. He holds out his guaze-wrapped hands to me. They're completely red with blood. He wants them changed. This is normally Mercedes' job, but she's off somewhere again, and so it falls on me to play nurse. Again.
"You know, old man," I tell him. "This whole stigmata thing you've got going on is a real pain in my ass." I grab him by the arm and drag him toward the ladder that descends into the warehouse. "You'd better be fucking Jesus, that's all I've got to say."
I feel a little bad -- I'm mostly angry with Lucas. And Mercedes. But still...is it too much to ask for him to just clot already?
I clear the ladder and round a corner and there they are. Lucas and Mercedes. Shamelessly canoodling in a glass-doored office. That should be my sweaty backside ham-pressed against the glass, not his. I storm up to the door and slap the glass hard, right at his ass-level. He jerks forward, then spins around. Mercedes is kneeling, coughing hard and glaring at me. She must have choked on something. I laugh at them, hating myself for my childishness, and lead Dante away by his bloody-gauzed hand.
I freshen Dante up and make a mental note to pick up more gauze bandages when we next go scouting. I see Lucas saunter up to me. He claps me on the shoulder. "Huddle up, big bro," he tells me. "We need to chat."
Oh good. I'm about to get chastised by this little kid. I'm glad he chose to get dressed before lecturing me.
"Jealousy is an ugly shade on you," he says. "Now, I could just hand her off to you like she was something I owned, but she's not, and I won't." I know this speech. "She's a woman, capable of making her own choices, and she chose me. Not you. Got it?"
"Stacy Potello," I say. This is the exact speech I gave him, what, fifteen years ago? That long? And he's got it down, damn near word for word. "Is that what this is about?" I ask. "Goddamned Stacy Potello?"
"Of course not," he says. He's grinning like an idiot. "I'm just reminding you, is all. It's true."
"This is all about Stacy Potello."
"You knew I liked her, but you moved on in anyway," he says.
"She was older than me, for christsakes!"
"Doesn't matter," he says.
"You were a fifteen-year-old kid!"
"Doesn't matter," he says.
"You're a cock," I say.
"Look," he says. "In all seriousness, I do really like her. She's an amazing woman. And if you had made a play for her first, then you'd be completely justified. But you didn't, so you're not. You're acting a bit like a childish prick, to be honest. So back off, okay? I'd back off if the roles were reversed."
"Like hell," I say, but I'm deflating as I say it. "You told Stacy Potello that I had herpes so she'd dump me."
"That was fifteen years ago," he says. "I was just a kid."
"Okay," I say. "I'll back off."
Twenty minutes later, I find myself alone with Mercedes. "Lucas has herpes," I say.
"No he doesn't," she says. "I'm not as dumb as Stacy Whatever-her-name-is."
"Damn," I say.
"Look," she says. "I like you. You're a good guy. And I don't want things to be weird between us. Are things going to be weird?"
I hang my head and shuffle my feet. "No ma'am," I say with exaggerated sheepishness.
"I'm serious," she says.
The rape whistle blows frantically just outside. Three rasping bursts.
"Oh shit," she says.
Loki's in my hands. I'm running to where the computer moniters watch the entrance to the labyrinth. Gayle, who was supposed to be watching, is nowhere to be found. The screens show a horde of zombies making their way to base camp. They're all past the detonation range; blow it now and we'll just trap ourselves in with them.
"Shit," I say. "Stay here," I tell Mercedes. Then I fly up the ladder. I run to the end of the roof, hit a bump of dirt, and catch myself before I go flying over the edge. The elevator is down on ground level. So are Tanya and her workcrew. So is the first wave of zombies.
"What the fuck is the matter?" I yell. "Haul them up!"
"No dice," Tanya yells back up. "Elevator's too slow. Can't risk passangers." She's flinging rocks at the zombies, who are running like I've never seen zombies run before. I empty my first clip into the horde.
"Get in. I'll slow them down."
Tanya tells her crew to haul ass into the storage container. She stays flinging rocks. As far as I can tell, those rocks aren't doing much. Tanya blows the whistle. The winch starts up without her. The zombies are almost on top of her. I've changed clips and I'm taking my shots carefully, but to no avail. Tanya runs toward them. They swarm her and ignore the garbage elevator. I fire off the last of the clip and watch, helpless, as Tanya disappears in the mob.
The elevator stops at the top. The survivors disembark. Gutierrez and Lucas and I fire hot metal into the swarm below, but our hearts aren't in it. We have to clear them out, though. There are people outside we can't account for, and they're due back with loads of dirt.
Someone to my right yells "Look what you did!" It's Lipschitz. He has Gayle by the hair and he's forcing her to watch. He's got her bent 90 degrees over the edge of the roof, and his grip on her hair is her only source of balance."Why weren't you at your station?"
She's crying. She's stuttering. She had to use the bathroom. You can tell that she's absolutely miserable with guilt.
"No excuses," he says, and he pushes her.
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