Therefore, there are times when I will not avoid danger.
—MENCIUS, CHINESE PHILOSOPHER
75
THE BLACK HAWK FLEW INTO hell itself.
The scene below could have belonged in no other place.
The main gates of Sanctuary hung open, the gate patrol cut to pieces. Most of the hangars were ablaze. Fire and smoke curled hundreds of feet into the air. The bridge was down, and steady streams of zoms poured across.
Not walked, not shambled, but ran.
Tens of thousands of them were already across. Some of the monks ran from them. Some had formed defensive lines between the hordes of the dead and the entrances to the hospice hangars, but they had no weapons. Some held mattresses and metal-framed cots in front of them in the desperate hope of fending off the dead and protecting the helpless; but as Benny and the others watched in abject horror, the R3 zoms tore these things out of the monks’ hands and dragged the screaming Children of God down.
A few monks knelt in the dirt, hands clasped in prayer, heads bowed while they allowed the dead to take them.
“Do something!” screeched Nix.
Joe flew low and opened up with the chain guns. Heavy bullets tore into the zoms, ripping arms and heads off. A few monks shook fists at them and tried to wave the helicopter off.
“What are they doing?” demanded McReady.
“Trying to protect the Children of Lazarus,” Joe said dully.
Even as the monks waved and shouted at the Black Hawk, the creatures they tried to protect overwhelmed them and tore them apart. It was sickening.
It was beyond horrible.
“Someone released the mutagen,” said McReady. “It has to be deliberate, but who would—?”
“Reapers,” said Benny. It was more than an answer; he pointed down into the melee to where reapers on quads chased a group of nuns, herding them into the arms of the dead.
McReady grabbed Joe’s arm. “Joe—”
“On it,” he said and he turned the guns on them. The quads exploded one after the other. However, the zoms swept past the burning quads and crashed like a wave onto the nuns. Joe kept firing, but there was no real point. There were tens of thousands of fast zoms swarming into the hangars, and hundreds of reapers ferreting out the monks and nuns. And it was clear this battle had been going on for too long already. Many of the zoms down there were the reanimated dead who had risen from their own murders.
Dr. McReady punched the dashboard. “No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The mutagen was intended for careful release after human populations were evacuated from an area. It’s only viable until after the host dies off. In a week even any residual powder exposed to the air will be inert. Damn it, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” She caved forward and put her face into her hands.
“Brother Peter said they wouldn’t attack until tomorrow,” said Benny.
Lilah grabbed his shirt. “And you believed him?”
But Nix shoved her back. “Stop it. We all believed him. This isn’t helping and this won’t get us to Chong.”
Joe steered the Black Hawk away from the hangars. Benny saw tears cutting jagged tracks down his grizzled face.
“Can you see Riot?” begged Nix. “I can’t see her anywhere.”
No one answered.
One figure staggered past the row of swings, but when Joe shone a spotlight on it, the face that looked up at them was not Riot’s or Eve’s. It was Sister Hannahlily. Her mouth was smeared with red, and she held a human arm in her hands. She hissed at the helicopter.
Sickened, Joe swung the light away.
They hovered for a moment over the bridge. There were now more of the dead on the monks’ side of the trench than on the other. Many more. A group of twenty reapers manned the bridge, herding the zoms over.
“Screw you,” growled Joe as he armed a Hellfire missile. “Go to hell.”