Zombies! (Episode 6): Barriers Collapse (3 page)

As he strolled down the streets of Brooklyn, he came upon a fitness center call
Push Ups
. The name had been stuck in his head for a day or so. He had been thinking about it because he had been thinking about the woman who worked there, the one who had brought in Karl Rappaport all those weeks before. Together, they had stood off against the zombies. When he had moved in to help one of the people in trouble, she had backed him up. He remembered her as being strong, as having a family to fight for. Looking in the window, he saw her. He couldn't remember her name but he would read it off of her name tag and pretend that he remembered.

Going inside, he looked around. The gym was small by franchise standards. There were a couple of people walking the treadmills and one body builder type working out with the weights. Steam rolled out of the back where the showers were located. Peter took in the smell of the place and wondered just how many of the dead had passed through those doors. Then he looked at the woman behind the counter. She was pouring over a notebook, a pencil in her hand. She was tap tap tapping it on the counter in an annoying rhythm. He wasn't even sure she'd noticed him.

"Ahem," he said, stepping up to her.

She looked up, a bit bleary eyed. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes. She remembered him but she couldn't place his face. Considering the circumstances under which they had met, he thought that weird. Of course, she may have unconsciously clouded over many of the details of that day.

"Hello, Abby," he said to her with a smile.

She stared at his face for a moment, then searched the rest of him for clues. There was nothing about him that might indicate that he was a doctor. He didn't wear scrubs at work and even if he had, he'd probably have changed before leaving. Even with a coat, the early December wind had a way of cutting right through scrubs as if you weren't wearing anything at all.

Finally, she gave up. She must have thought he was a customer because she put on a customer service face and said, "Good morning."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

And now she was nervous. There was a lot going on inside this poor woman's head, a lot of what had been going on inside of Peter's head. She needed what he had found. Past his breakdown and the tense, fear-filled early days of his return to society, he had found peace through planning. Peace through action.

"Sorry…" she began.

"No sweat," he told her, extending his hand. "Peter Ventura. I'm a doctor over at
Sisters of Charity
."

Halfway to shaking his hand, she halted and started just shaking. He withdrew his hand quickly, allowing her to settle back into her comfort zone.

"It's okay," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't have come in."

"No," she said tentatively, desperately trying to collect herself.

"Hey, Abby!" the guy using the weights called out. "You okay?"

She looked up at him, trying to sort through her thoughts and emotions. He must have noticed her reaction to Peter. "I'm okay," she said. "Thanks."

"You let me know if you need me," he said back to her, eying Peter warily.

"Sorry about that," she said to Peter, lowering her voice. The little spark of altercation seemed to settle her a bit. Peter wondered what a giant explosion would do.

"It's okay," he said, eyeing the weight lifter. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I remember you now. You hit the button, the one that locked us in."

This gave him pause. Her tone was so even that he didn't really know how to interpret what she had just said. Though there wasn't even a hint of blame, neither was there any indication that she agreed with the decision he'd made. But he remembered that day very clearly. Those times of action had been his best. In the moment, with the adrenaline coursing through his system, he'd been strong and decisive. Only afterwards had he collapsed and broken down. Only afterwards had he learned to seek the solace of that action.

He dropped his head. "It was meant to save people."

"And it probably did," she said. "Why are you here, Dr. Ventura?"

"Peter. Please," he said. "I haven't told anyone this because there's no one to tell. The others that were with us in the ER have all left the city. After that day, when we were all released, I went home and locked myself in. I stayed in my apartment for a week and I won't tell you what that week was like. I only left because I finally realized that the world hadn't ended."

Abby listened with a forced sort of detachment. What had buoyed her after the event was the realization that Sammy, her son, was going to be all right. He'd been sick that very morning and she had been worried that he was infected with the zombie plague. But his infection had been nothing more than strep throat. Ten days of antibiotics had made him well again.

"I just…" Peter began and then turned as the door behind him opened and in walked Martin Benjamin.

Abby's husband was a big man with thinning hair. He didn't work out, had never set foot in a gym other than to see Abby. But a high level of tension and an inability to eat large meals kept his weight down. He was in his mid-forties but showed few of the telltale signs of his years. Trained as a computer network technician, he'd seen some good times during the economic boom of the 1990's and even early in the twenty first century. With the economic collapse, however, he'd lost his job and his livelihood. Now he was part of
Best Buy's
staff and feeling miserable about it. Underneath his long winter coat, the bright blue of his shirt was just barely visible. He wore the khaki pants that all of the employees wore.

"Hello, love," he said to Abby.

Bewildered at his appearance, she came around the counter and embraced him. Peter's appearance had put her ill at ease and seeing Martin brought back some stability to her psyche. She squeezed him hard and reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. When she pulled away, he was smiling.

"It's nice to be appreciated," he said. "Who’s the bloke?"

Peter pushed out a hand. "Peter Ventura."

Martin took it. "You a regular here?"

"No. I actually came by to see Abby. You must be her husband."

"That's right. Martin Benjamin." He was looking at Peter queerly and then suddenly brightened. "I remember you. You were one of the docs over at that hospital a few months back."

"That's right," Peter said, pleased that Martin had remembered even if Abby hadn't.

"There's not going to be a reunion, is there?" Martin was making light of the situation but not really. He knew how badly it had affected Abby. Even his own troubles had faded into obscurity in light of her resulting frailty. He tried not to complain too much about his job and helped out more with Sammy. Whenever they needed to borrow money from her parents, he took it with teeth clenched but no comment. It was difficult. All of those things were difficult for a man like Martin. But it would be too much to bear if he alienated and lost Abby.

"It's just us," Peter said, feeling his opportunity for recruitment slipping away. "Everyone else left the city and I just needed to touch base with that day, see the reality after the nightmare, if you get my meaning."

Martin went pensive. "Makes sense. How do you feel about it, Abby?"

She was a bit taken aback by the question. Martin had always been very direct, though. "I…I was a little shaken at first, but… It does feel better to speak with someone who was
there
."

Martin grinned wide. "It's settled then. Peter, you'll come along and have lunch with us. What do you say?"

Surprised, though pleasantly, Peter nodded.

***

IT
was almost two hours later when they were finally able to sit down for a meal. Abby couldn't leave until Whitaker came in. Peter claimed he had errands to run anyway and left the gym, giving Abby his card with his cell phone number on it. Martin hung around for a while but grew bored. He told Abby to give him a call when she was ready.

They went to a small street corner café. There was outdoor seating, which some people took despite the December chill. They agree to eat indoors. They ordered modest meals, none of them having lots of cash to throw around. After some small talk, Peer decided to start feeling them out.

"Do you have family in the UK, Martin? I heard that there were zombie sightings over there."

Martin shook his head. "They'll be all over soon enough," he said. "Had one in the store this morning."

Abby looked stricken.

"No big deal, love," he said to her. "It's our third this week."

"That's crazy, though," Peter said. "You work your everyday job and you have to deal with zombies?"

Martin shrugged. "The police do their job and we have private security personnel. It's no more dangerous than some bloke with a gun."

"But, Martin," Abby complained. "The sight of them. The smell of them!"

He shrugged, picking a french fry off of his plate. "I had some nightmares that first time. And I never even got close to it. We had a woman, last week. She came in with a stroller. Strapped into the stroller was a toddler, couldn't have been more than three years old, but it was one of them, you know?"

"That's terrible," Abby cried, drawing stares from the other patrons. She didn't care. She couldn't believe the nonchalant way in which Martin spoke of it.

"She took the kid over to the Disney pictures, said they calmed her down. She made quite scene when the police came."

"I imagine she didn't want to give up her baby," Peter said.

Martin looked at him. "Her baby was already gone."

"That's not always so easy to accept. Especially when you've got a living body to remind you of what it once was. Don't you have a son that age?"

Martin's demeanor changed instantly. He remembered being afraid that Sammy was sick. There had been a pounding in his gut, a terrible churning that wouldn't go away.

"How do you suppose the child got sick?" Peter asked.

Martin shrugged, sensing the subtle shift in Peter's questioning.

"You know, Martin, I don't want to start an argument but you sound awfully casual about something so serious."

"It’s like anything else, I suppose," Martin said. "When it's new, people are scared and hiding their heads in the sand. But it's been three months now. We're used to the idea of zombies in the streets and in our lives. It's just one more horrible thing we have to deal with. No one thinks the world is coming to an end."

"Except it's
not
just like anything else," Peter said. "Because we have groups like the
ZRA
whose efforts can actually perpetuate the disease."

Abby laughed uncomfortably. "Come on. You don't think they've got any credibility, do you?"

Peter looked at her intently. "Don't they? Just by dint of the fact that they have an organizational name, they have credibility. They're on the news. People are talking about them in the streets and at work and in street corner cafes."

Abby picked at her food, thinking long and hard about what Peter was saying. "Peter, nothing they've said has changed any of what the police and the city are doing, let alone the country."

"Not yet. But that doesn't mean they aren't taking steps themselves."

Martin looked at him. "What are you getting on about?"

"Look, ever since we were trapped by those things in the hospital, I haven't really thought about much else. Nothing makes me more nervous than these
ZRA
nuts. Remember when activists were throwing paint on fur coats? But take that a step further. These people aren't just protesters. They're trying to save lives."

"What lives?" Abby asked, incredulous. "Zombies are dead."

Peter shrugged. "Says you and me and anyone with half a brain."

"So what are they doing?" she asked. "Do you know?"

"I've done some investigating." Peter let that hang in the air a moment while he took a long pull on his soda. He had them both interested, although Martin was skeptical. He would have to tread carefully. "The
ZRA
aren't dumb enough to think that zombies aren't dangerous, but they seem to think they can be saved. So they're collecting them into safe houses until doctors find a cure. Then they'll release all of the zombies for treatment and be regarded as heroes."

Martin snorted. "Rubbish!"

"You think so?" Peter glared at him. "Take a ride over to
Angus Construction
. It's not too far from here. I met the parents of a young girl who went
hunting
there last weekend. Her boyfriend was killed and she was bitten."

"Hunting?" Abby asked. "Why would anyone hunt a zombie?"

Peter shrugged. "Who knows? I've seen kids come through the doors of the ER with all kinds of weird injuries."

"So what are the police doing about it?" Martin asked. "Surely they're not allowing this to go on."

"According to Tiffany's parents, the police posted a car outside the lot," Peter snorted. "A
car!
They should bring the whole goddamn force in there and level the place."

"Is that what you want to do?" Martin asked.