EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Gumbowsky’s head came over the top of the staircase just when Jamison started the cruiser. The engine roared to life and the lights started flashing again. Mike stomped on the accelerator and the car shot toward Gumbowsky, sliding to a stop in front of him. He popped open the side door and climbed into the passenger seat. “You sure you can drive, man?” Mike didn’t look so good, but he nodded vigorously, his eyes not moving from in front of him. He kicking in the gas again and they sped down the street, away from the subway station.

The closest hospital, Eden Medical, was behind them about fifteen miles. Gumbowsky wasn’t sure where Mike was heading. “Hey, man, the hospital’s behind us. Shouldn’t you turn around?” Mike growled something indistinct and whipped down a side street to the right. He sped forward a block or two and hauled a tire-skidding right again. At least he was pointed in the right direction now.

The streets were deserted in the less-than-pleasant early afternoon hours. A few cars sat on the sides of the road, but no one was walking around. Even on the nastiest days of winter or the hottest days of summer, SOMEONE was always on the streets. A kid truant from school, a mom going grocery shopping, someone. It was truly scary to see the streets so empty of life.

Gumbowsky pulled his eyes away from the deserted pathways of the city and looked over at his partner. They’d been assigned to each other for a couple of years now, but Mike had never been really friendly. Still, they had Christmas dinner with each other’s families and had saved each other from injury or maybe even death a few times. That one drugged out kid last summer, for example.

Mike had had the kid cornered after he had tried to rip off a convenience store. The kid hadn’t grabbed more than a hundred dollars — the store didn’t keep more than that at any given time usually — but he had risked his life, and threatened the life of the clerk, for it. He had a knife in his hand, but he kept reaching behind his back and fiddling with something. Gumbowsky had been in the car calling for backup when Mike radioed in that he needed help now. When he got to the scene, Gumbowsky saw the kid and Mike in a standoff, both of them with pistols drawn.

The kid had been completely tripped out on bathroom-brewed crack, nervous twitches made him slow-witted. He didn’t notice the new cop slipping into the alleyway behind and beside the one he was concentrating on. Gumbowsky had pulled his gun out, but kept it held down to his side. Mike saw him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t do anything to give it away, just a quick flick of the eyes. Gumbowsky slid further into the alley, getting as close to the crackhead as he could. When he was only a few feet away, he raised his gun and yelled “Freeze” at the kid. It had felt so crazily cliche, but it was all that came to mind.

It had worked, apparently. The kid’s drug-addled brain hadn’t been able to deal with two targets and he had dropped his gun. The knife was already on the ground, dropped when he had decided to pull out the gun. Mike moved forward, gun still trained on the kid, and Gumbowsky moved closer, too. Mike cuffed the kid and searched him for more weapons while Gumbowsky read him his rights. Rights. These damn kids shouldn’t have any rights when they’re out of their minds on shit they made in a bathtub. You were lucky if the tub was clean, even. That night had gone well, though.

Now, though, Mike didn’t look like himself. His eyes were jumping around more than the crackhead kid’s had. His lips were both trembling and his throat was still bleeding, although it was now just a trickle. He had one hand clamped on the wound, which probably explained a large part of why he was driving so eradically. While Gumbowsky was looking at him, he suddenly whipped the around around another corner to the right and raced up another side street. Two blocks and he pulled another right, still not at the hospital. Suddenly he slammed on the brakes and jumped onto the passenger-side sidewalk. When the car was stopped, he twisted off the ignition, lept out of the car keyless and ran up the alley they had stopped at.

Gumbowsky didn’t know what to do. His partner seemed delirious. He sat where he was in shock for a few seconds, a half of a minute, then slowly got out of the car. It wasn’t raining, but it felt like it should be. An unnatural chill seemed caught inside of Gumbowsky’s clothes and skin, making his bones want to shake. He looked around to see if he knew where he was.

It was the street they had been on to begin with. Down a ways was the library, beyond it, the subway station where the… dead girl had been. Where she had bitten Mike and turned the whole day inside out. There was no one on the streets here either. Gumbowsky wasn’t anxious to go down the alley but he couldn’t let his partner, his friend, wander off like that. He needed medical attention and he needed it fast.

He picked up the microphone for the radio and pressed the “press to talk” button. A crackle of static preceded his message. “This is Officer Gumbowsky. I’m on Grand Avenue, a few blocks to the west of the City Library. My partner, Office Jamison, has been injured and needs medical attention. Please send an ambulance as soon as possible. Over.” He didn’t know if anyone was listening, especially considering the news that Billy had relayed to them. Still, he had to try. He sighed, hung up the transmitter, and climbed out of the car.

The alley was narrow, but not claustrophobic. Or it wouldn’t have been without the trash, at least. The piles of rubbish cramped the passageway to an uncomfortable width at several places, not to mention how they slicked the floor. Mike had already disappeared into the shadows somewhere further along so Gumbowsky had no choice but to hurry along the dirty corridor blindly. He saw the corner when he was three-quarters or so down the alley. Mike had to have already turned it, which was why he hadn’t seen or heard him. Gumbowsky turned the corner and walked into Mike’s back.

He bounced off of his partner’s back with an “oof”, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, Mike, don’t just stand there in the dark. What’s the mat — ” His words were cut off when Mike turned around.

His face was blotchy and etched with black lines. His nose had turned a horribly dark purple knob on the front of his face, and his lips were pulled back in a snarl. The wound at his neck from the girl’s bite seemed to pulse with his breathing, the edges already turning black and yellow. Pus and blood still oozed slowly out. Mike’s eyes were bloodshot and his pupils wide, almost eliminating the irises. His purple nose flared with each breath out and his mouth was open, breathing in deeply. Gumbowsky nearly screamed.

“Mi — Mike! Come on, buddy, we gotta — ” He stopped talking and turned to run, realizing his partner, his friend, was already too far gone. In the middle of the turn, he felt his legs fall out from beneath him. He managed to pull his arms up to block his face, but the air was knocked out of his lungs. After a couple of burning gasps of air, he scrambled to pull himself forward on elbows and knees, feeling both elbows scrape skin away on the trash-covered ground. He tried to pull his knees up to stand, but felt teeth sink into his calf. He screamed and kicked with the other leg.

Mike let go of him after a couple of solid kicks to the top of his head, but not without ripping a chunk out of his leg and growling at him, a feral growl that caused the hair on Gumbowsky’s arms to stand on end. “Jesus, help me,” he prayed, finally gaining his feet. But everything was turned around now. Mike was moving incredibly fast and had gotten between him and the alley leading to the police cruiser. Gumbowsky stood tenderly on his bitten leg, trying to think if he could outmove his ex-partner.

Ex-partner. He was amazed at how fast that thought had taken hold. Still, this wasn’t the time for examining how his brain dealt with the sudden and uniquely strange loss of his partner. He needed to get away. He turned his head halfway to look at the alley behind him. As soon as his eyes left Mike’s, he felt Mike’s significant weight hit him full in the torso, knocking the air out of his lungs a second time.

They crashed to the alley floor, Gumbowsky’s head ricocheting off the blacktop surface. He felt a blinding flash of pain and black spots swam in front of his eyes, mostly obscuring Mike’s deranged face. He was sure he had a concussion but didn’t dare reach a hand up to check. His hands were full with trying to pry or push Mike off of him, get free of the monster and get to his feet.

Monster. No, he had to concentrate on escaping. The therapist could deal with these immediate thoughts. He grunted as he tried to push Mike off of him. For a second time today he thoght of all the days he had skipped the gym or super-sized a burger meal. Mike’s face slid down and Gumbowsky started pushing down on his shoulders, but Mike wasn’t sliding off of him. Gumbowsky felt a tearing sensation in his gut and screamed in pain again. He started pounding on Mike’s shoulders and head with his clenched fists. They had no effect.

Mike growled, almost a satisfied grunt, and dug in further. Gumbowsky rememberd his gun and scrambled at his belt to get it out of the holster. Mike must have seen what he was doing, as he swatted the gun away as soon as it came free of the leather case. It went sliding away into piles of trash, far out of Gumbowsky’s reach. Shit.

Another scream escaped from his lips as Mike reached a hand down to further rip at his stomach. Gumbowsky reached down and jammed his thumbs into Mike’s face, tearing at his enemy’s eyes. The monster at his stomach growled and howled, ripping all the more furiously. Gumbowsky was sure he wouldn’t make it out of his alive, but damned if he was going to give up. He kept pressing in on his assailant’s eyes with both thumbs.

Mike stopped clawing at his stomach. It was working! Mike’s hands came to his own face and tried to scratch and tear the hands away from his eyes. Gumbowsky held on as tight as possible, feeling the slimey orbs sliding aside to accomodate his thumbs. Both men screamed at each other.

Mike reached forward and wrapped his hands around Gumbowsky’s throat. His thumbs pressed in on either side of the windpipe and Gumbowsky could almost feel the nails digging into his flesh. Then he did feel it, his mind giving up on trying to block out the pain, adrenaline doing nothing. Fingers slid in and pulled and ripped at flesh and muscle. He didn’t let go of the monster’s head, though, now pulling at the eyes with all of his might.

Both eyes popped out into his hands. Covered with blood, they were hard to hold onto, Gumbowsky held and pulled, ripping the optic nerves out with them. The monster screamed at him and ripped at his throat harder. The creature’s thumbs found his windpipe and punched through it, immediately bringing more black spots to his vision. He tried to suck in air and just felt liquid rising in his throat. He coughed and saw specks of blood flying into the air. Mike pulled one hand out of his throat and wrapped it around his forehead. The fingers pinched in, putting tremendous pressure on his temples, and he felt his head pulled off the floor. Mike’s arm straighted and smashed Gumbowsky’s head into the ground. A few more smashes like that and the world faded completely to black.