Siege (As the World Dies #3)(72)

“My kids were crying real hard for their Daddy. We younger folks were the last to go and just as the trucks left with some people, the doors behind us start banging hard. We look and those things are trying to get out of the Civic Center. So the soldiers shouted ‘run.’ And, girl, we ran.”



Ethel nodded her head. “We got into the mall and the soldiers were all shouting and telling us to keep moving. Was bad.”

“We were running like crazy down the street. A whole bunch of us with some soldiers. Then those doors got knocked down and those things came running. And everyone was screaming and crying. People were tripping. The soldiers were trying to shoot...” The woman steadied herself emotionally and Ethel took her hand.

“Take a breath, Amy, take a breath,” Ethel said softly. Jenni looked around to see their table was now not only packed with people but others were gathering around to listen. Most were nodding their heads, obviously remembering the horror of the first day.



“And my little boy said, ‘Look, Mommy, Daddy is coming, too’ and I looked back. It’s not my Troy anymore. He is all messed up and screaming. We just keep running and I could barely breathe. One of the soldiers grabbed my kids and just yanked them up into his arms and ran. And I was running hard. And people...started…to fall back…then we could hear them getting…getting…ripped up…”

A big black man leaned forward, taking over the story as Amy sobbed into Ethel’s shoulder. “So we made it to the mall and the soldiers were closing the gates the city council had put in to keep vandals from doing graffiti on the mall.” “Probably the only thing they ever did right,” someone huffed.



“We just had that one gate to get in and the soldiers were shooting and we just ran, ma’am. We just ran,” the black man continued.

“They shoved cars up against the gates to keep them closed and kept those things out,” Amy said.

“Later, the helicopters came,” the black man added. “Oh, yes, they were shooting those undead bastards for hours. Almost ran out of ammunition,” Ethel added.

“Those soldiers didn’t know what they were doing at first,” another woman said. “They were scared, too, but once they got it safe and those things weren’t getting in, they tried to calm us down.

“Fed us…”

“Got us safe…”

“So this wasn’t the rescue center?” Jenni asked. “They just brought you here and made do?”

“Exactly,” Ethel said.



“It was real scary. Every time new people showed up to get saved, it was real scary. Lots of shooting. I heard the helicopters went and got more ammunition and soldiers until the National Guard base got taken by the dead things,” a middle-aged man said. “And they had to…shoot…the people who got bitten.” Amy, the first woman who started speaking, nodded sadly. “They had to. Cause they’d die and just get right back up.”



Jenni’s back was a coil of nervous knots. Hearing what these people had been through brought back all her memories of the first day. When Bill touched her back, she jumped, then looked up with relief to see him. He slid onto the bench next to her and looked very solemn.

“So you folks have been here all this time with the soldiers taking care of you?” Bill asked. “For the first week,” Amy answered. “Then the Senator came with her soldiers and that Major General. They made Kevin step down. He did such a good job in the beginning, too. When they came, they brought a lot more zombies with them. They went through the damn town and dragged them down on us.”

“So you don’t like the Senator?”

Everyone looked nervous now, looking around warily.

An old Mexican woman, probably almost a hundred years old said, “Tonta! Pendeja! Stupid. She makes the Mexicans do the...the…work of the gutter. She don’t like us cause she says we’re wetbacks. My family has been in Texas since it was Mexico!”

“Total bitch,” a woman said who looked like she had been some sort of professional. “She won’t talk to any of us. She stays up on the second floor and looks down at us. I know she’s behind them doing some sort of weird questionnaire on everyone.”

“Yeah. That was kinda weird and scary,” Amy agreed.

“Esta tonta! Pendeja! Tocha,” the old Hispanic woman muttered.

Jenni giggled, reminded of her own late Mexican grandmother. The woman was on a roll with her insults.



“Things are not good here,” Amy said to Jenni. “Not at all. We’re all hungry. We’re all scared. Nothing is getting better. It only gets worse.”

Bill folded his hands on the table and looked at the people gathered around. “The fort has room for everyone here. I just don’t think the Senator will let y’all go there and live with us. I think she’s gonna try to take over our home, too.” Murmurs of discontent spread through the group.



“Is it really better for y’all? Really?” Amy’s expression was hopeful.

Jenni looked around at all the tired, smelly people with their desperate expressions. “Yeah. It is.” The old Mexican woman hit the top of the table with her cane. “Then we go with you. The puta stays here.”