commandeered half-track barreled through the crowd, crushing both the living and the dead beneath the vehicle. A teenaged corpse in a Slipknot shirt tried to climb up onto the half-track, but one of the men kicked him back down with a boot to the face. Another of the men opened fire with a mounted machine gun. Bodies-both living and dead-jittered and danced as the rounds punched through them. I gasped. These guys didn't care who they shot. They were just as bad as the zombies-maybe even worse. The dead couldn't use guns. Clearing a path, the vehicle rolled on. The humans they'd just killed stayed dead. They were the lucky ones.
Another man ran by us. He was carrying a rifle.
"Hey," I shouted, trying to get his attention.
"Get the fuck out of here," he gasped, and kept running.
I started to tell him that we didn't know where to go. Figured he might know of a safe place. But he rounded the corner and disappeared.
The median in the middle of the brick-lined street was carefully landscaped, full of trees, flowers and shrubs. As I watched, the treetops burst into flames, fed by the fire in the antiques store. More. stray bullets chewed up the pavement. Something shattered a car's windshield nearby us, and chunks of cement sprayed through the air. The stench grew stronger; decay, cordite, burning fuel and flesh. The screams got louder.
"What are we going to do?" Malik asked. He didn't sound brave anymore. He sounded like a scared little boy on the verge of tears.
That was when the idea of making it to the harbor actually occurred to me. I was pissed off at myself for not thinking of it earlier, when we'd been fleeing in that direction anyway. Fells Point bordered the Inner Harbor area. The Inner Harbor was Baltimore's main tourist attraction. It had the National Aquarium, the big Hard Rock Cafe, the three-story Barnes and Noble store, Port Discovery, the World Trade Center, Fort McHenry, the Maryland Science Center, the Pier Six Concert Pavilion (I'd seen Erik B and Rakim along with some other old-school hip-hop acts there last year), tons of shops and restaurants and bars, and quick access to hotels, the stadium, and the convention center. But Inner Harbor was also just what its name implied-a fucking harbor. It emptied out into Chesapeake Bay. The open water-someplace where the zombies couldn't reach us, just like I'd promised the kids.
There were ships and boats all along the waterfront. The Pride of Baltimore II, which was a reproduction of an 1812-era clipper ship. The USS Constellation, the last Civil War vessel still afloat in America, built in 1854 and still seaworthy. Both of those were out of the question. 1 didn't know the first thing about sailing one, but I knew that you needed a whole crew just to get underway. There was a coast guard vessel, the USCGC Spratling, which they let tourists tromp around on. It had permanently replaced the Cutter Taney, which had been sent out for repairs and restoration a year or so ago. Before that, both coast guard vessels had been open to the public. Again, the Spratling was out of the question, just like the other big ships. But there were smaller boats, too; ferries, water taxis, and tour boats. Hell, there were even paddleboats, and I certainly knew how to operate one of those. There were also several marinas nearby full of yachts and fishing vessels and pleasure cruisers.
I didn't know shit about boating, but how hard could it be-especially given our alternatives? If we could reach the Inner Harbor or one of the marinas without getting killed or eaten, and manage to steal a small boat, we'd be well away from land before the entire city burned to the ground. Even if I could just cast off from the dock, we'd at least be able to drift far enough out into the bay to where the zombies couldn't touch us. Maybe even into the ocean. Drifting on the open sea was better than staying here.
The Inner
Another man ran by us. He was carrying a rifle.
"Hey," I shouted, trying to get his attention.
"Get the fuck out of here," he gasped, and kept running.
I started to tell him that we didn't know where to go. Figured he might know of a safe place. But he rounded the corner and disappeared.
The median in the middle of the brick-lined street was carefully landscaped, full of trees, flowers and shrubs. As I watched, the treetops burst into flames, fed by the fire in the antiques store. More. stray bullets chewed up the pavement. Something shattered a car's windshield nearby us, and chunks of cement sprayed through the air. The stench grew stronger; decay, cordite, burning fuel and flesh. The screams got louder.
"What are we going to do?" Malik asked. He didn't sound brave anymore. He sounded like a scared little boy on the verge of tears.
That was when the idea of making it to the harbor actually occurred to me. I was pissed off at myself for not thinking of it earlier, when we'd been fleeing in that direction anyway. Fells Point bordered the Inner Harbor area. The Inner Harbor was Baltimore's main tourist attraction. It had the National Aquarium, the big Hard Rock Cafe, the three-story Barnes and Noble store, Port Discovery, the World Trade Center, Fort McHenry, the Maryland Science Center, the Pier Six Concert Pavilion (I'd seen Erik B and Rakim along with some other old-school hip-hop acts there last year), tons of shops and restaurants and bars, and quick access to hotels, the stadium, and the convention center. But Inner Harbor was also just what its name implied-a fucking harbor. It emptied out into Chesapeake Bay. The open water-someplace where the zombies couldn't reach us, just like I'd promised the kids.
There were ships and boats all along the waterfront. The Pride of Baltimore II, which was a reproduction of an 1812-era clipper ship. The USS Constellation, the last Civil War vessel still afloat in America, built in 1854 and still seaworthy. Both of those were out of the question. 1 didn't know the first thing about sailing one, but I knew that you needed a whole crew just to get underway. There was a coast guard vessel, the USCGC Spratling, which they let tourists tromp around on. It had permanently replaced the Cutter Taney, which had been sent out for repairs and restoration a year or so ago. Before that, both coast guard vessels had been open to the public. Again, the Spratling was out of the question, just like the other big ships. But there were smaller boats, too; ferries, water taxis, and tour boats. Hell, there were even paddleboats, and I certainly knew how to operate one of those. There were also several marinas nearby full of yachts and fishing vessels and pleasure cruisers.
I didn't know shit about boating, but how hard could it be-especially given our alternatives? If we could reach the Inner Harbor or one of the marinas without getting killed or eaten, and manage to steal a small boat, we'd be well away from land before the entire city burned to the ground. Even if I could just cast off from the dock, we'd at least be able to drift far enough out into the bay to where the zombies couldn't touch us. Maybe even into the ocean. Drifting on the open sea was better than staying here.
The Inner
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