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toilet seat, shivering in relief.
As she sat there, Frankie considered her options. She could get back
into bed and wait for the doctor or nurse to show up. Or, she could find
her clothes, get dressed, and track down Jim, Danny, and Don.
Deciding on the second option, she pulled her panties back up and
flushed. Something was obviously happening, unless the alarm had been a
drill. And the absence of the medical staff concerned her as well.
When she walked out of the bathroom, a man was standing next to the bed,
pointing a gun at her. She recognized him from television-Darren Ramsey,
the billionaire developer. Except that without a team of makeup artists
and public relations handlers, he looked old. Sick. Frankie also
recognized the look in his eyes. She'd seen it before, in the gaze of
certain Johns. Ramsey was insane. Next to him was a fat, greasy,
nervous-looking man.
"Please," Ramsey said, "don't be alarmed. We won't harm you."
"You planning on lowering that pistol anytime soon? That would go a long
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way toward helping me relax."
"Of course." He smiled, and dropped it to his side. "You must excuse me.
We weren't sure who, or what, was coming out of the bathroom."
The fat man's eyes crawled over her, resting on her breasts and the
triangle of hair between her legs, peeking out below her hem. Frankie
pulled the gown down as far as it would go and glared at him.
"Anything more than a look costs you twenty," she quipped.
His face turned a dark, angry scarlet.
Ramsey opened his mouth. "My name is-"
"I know who you are," Frankie interrupted. "Seen
258
you on television a bunch of times. You're Darren Ramsey. Who's this?"
"Frank DiMassi," the fat man grumbled, then turned to Ramsey. "We've got
to get going, sir."
The old man nodded impatiently.
"You'll have to excuse us-I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"Frankie."
"You'll have to excuse us, Frankie. The building is about to come under
attack."
"What?"
"I'm afraid so. We're completely surrounded. The zombies have gathered
an army like nothing I've ever seen. Mr. DiMassi and myself are leaving
for a safe location. We'd be honored to have you accompany us."
Frankie's eyes darted to the gun and then back up to his face. His smile
faltered a bit under the scrutiny, and his upper lip and forehead were
beaded with sweat.
"Thanks," she said, side-stepping past him, "but I've got friends that
came in with me. I need to check on them, make sure they're all right."
"I assure you, Frankie, if your companions are on the floors below,
their fate is sealed. It would be better- safer-if you came with us."
Frankie edged farther away, but doing so put her closer to DiMassi. The
fat man licked his lips, gawking at her legs.
"Thanks anyway," Frankie said, "but if it's all the same to you guys,
I'll take my chances finding them."
Ramsey raised the pistol again.
"I'm afraid I must insist. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you
are essential to my plan for repopulating the planet. DiMassi, if you
would, please?"
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The fat man lunged, crushing her beneath his weight.
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* * *
Ramsey Towers rose into New York's gray pre-dawn sky, already
half-obscured by the smoke pouring from the burning buildings around it.
Beyond the reach of the flames, thousands of zombies formed ranks,
surrounding the block.
Ob gazed out at the undead force, reveling in the sheer size of his
army. Then he turned his attention back to the skyscraper.
Inside, humans took position at the windows, or scurried back and forth
behind them like frightened mice. Mounds of splintered, broken furniture
lay strewn around the building's exterior plaza and sidewalks, forming a
crude but effective barricade. The exterior doors and the windows on the
first five floors, including the large plate-glass windows in the lobby,
had been boarded over.
One of his lieutenants approached him. Its intestines hung loose,
swaying with each step. Flies clung to the strands.
Ob turned to him. "I take it that the last flare signals everything is
in order?"
"Everything is in position, my lord. Our forces are ready."
"Excellent," Ob hissed, exhaling fetid air. "Let's finish this, so that
our remaining brothers can be free of the Void once and for all.
Commence the attack."
The zombie lieutenant barked orders back to the line. Minutes later, a
box-truck cruised down the street, rolling to a stop in front of the
skyscraper. The zombie behind the wheel gunned the engine, revving it to
a frenetic crescendo. Then the truck shot forward. It crashed up over
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