And now for our third and final installment of BLZA. Hope you guys have enjoyed it. Again, if you missed the first two parts they can be found here and here, respectively. For the rest of you cats, thanks for following along. Let’s get to it.
It’s when we’re unloading the SUV that I start to understand more of the plan. I run off to the side and take a piss as Lance is going on about how he’d been testing this signal in his RV on some of the local “wildlife.” He found some inaudible tone that makes these things go bat-shit then fall over dead. “Like dead, dead. Rage quits all over the place.” he says almost happily.
I zip up and run back over to the group. It’s funny how you’re covered in blood and shit most of the time but still have enough social graces not to piss on yourself.
“Feel better?” Jess asks.
“Much.” I reply. “Where to now?”
“We have to make our way to the 20th floor.” Lance says as he peers up the building half covered in ash. At it’s base, speakers are piled on top of each other, wires running to generators. It looks like someone took the roof off a Best Buy, turned it over and just shook it out all over the street. “I used to work here.”
Standing under a single street light we open the back door of the SUV. Staring at me are two chainsaws, two containers of gasoline and what looks like more bags of equipment and wires.
“Elevator service isn’t exactly an option after the Apocalypse, this might take a couple of trips. You sure we need all this shit?”
The sparks from a nearby arching wire make Jess’ eyes light up like 4th of July. Shes grabs a large bag from the back seat, “I got point” she says with a cock of her shotgun. Lance slings one of the bags of wires over his shoulder and grabs both chainsaws. “Oh yeah, we need it all.” He says.
Halfway up the stairs, around floor 10 or 12 is where Lance has one of his chainsaws dug so deep into one of these things heads he has to use his boot heel to get it out. The walls are spackled red, the way a Jackson Pollock painting would look if Jackson Pollock himself had exploded on it.
“We’re making too much noise.” I yell, my arms heavy with equipment.
“It’s about to get a lot noisier once we set this up.” Lance rears back as his chainsaw spins free and fills the hallway with a boisterous roar. “It’s gonna be awesome.”
“I thought you said it was inaudible?”
“Yeah, to us. Not to them though. Initially we’re gonna have to hold them off. They’ll be coming for us once we turn it on.” He whips his chainsaw around and decapitates one limping up the stairs. “They’re gonna get faster and more pissed for a few minutes before the signal sinks in through all that oil and shit they’re covered in.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
Jess’ shotgun rings in my ears as she takes out one after another. “Come on, only a few more floors to go and these ain’t exactly barrels we’re jumping over.” She yells over the blasts.
In the studio, Lance and Jess are routing all the wiring to the equipment we carried. There’s a gas powered generator running in the corner of the room outside the enclosed studio. Through the glass it’s completely silent.
Down the hall is where we barricaded the door. In the streets below the angry undead pile up out front.
“After all the shit went down, people used this place to broadcast messages of hope, missing person reports, etc. It was the only station still up and running.” Jess says as she plugs in a monitor cable. “We’re gonna use it to save the world.” Lance’s voice booms over the speakers as he tests the microphone.
“I still don’t see how that’s possible.”
“I’m good here.” Lance says standing up from the console. “You two get out there and make sure nothing gets past these doors. The signal has to be uninterrupted for 10 minutes if we want it to work.”
Jess taps me on the shoulder and lights up a cigarette. “NPC! Heads up!” Lance throws me one of his shotguns and a backpack full or shells. He turns to Jess and hands her one of his chainsaws. “It’s dangerous to go alone!” he says smiling. “Take this.”
Jessica stands in front of the doorway. Her minuscule 5 foot 6 inch frame slightly bent under the weight of the chainsaw mounted to her backpack. She finishes her cigarette and leans in a little closer to me.
“You trust me?” She says, her breath heavy with smoke.
“It’s naive to think you’ll live forever.” I reply with a cock of my shotgun.
And all of a sudden, without so much as a sound — like someone flipped a switch, there’s hysteria outside. Banging and pounding on the door in front of us, screams and howls from all angles. Hell was coming unhinged, and it was pointed in our direction.