Not Flesh Nor Feathers (Eden Moore 3)

“Yeah, it’s a shelter now, but they’re clearing people out of it. The old newspaper building wasn’t close enough to trouble for you—now you want to go right into the thick of it?”

I stopped, not because of what he was telling me, but because the flaw in my plan had hit me upside the head. “Huh. Here’s the trouble. I have no idea where they keep the fireworks. I know they shoot them off from Cameron Hill, but I don’t guess they store them there between firings. They must store them down at BellSouth Park. And you’re right that the stadium’s right by the water, but it’s up there on the hill next to the interstate. It’s not underwater, I’m sure. But there’s no guarantee that’s where the fireworks are kept anyway. For all I know it’s handled by some outside company. I don’t guess there’s any chance you could hop on your cell phone and find out, could you?”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

“It rests in peace. ”

“Well mine isn’t made of pixie dust. I don’t know who I’d call to find out something like that. ”

“Who was that guy you called to find out about the paper building?”

“Allen, the morning show producer. But he used to work for the Times-Free Press, so it wasn’t totally off the wall that he might know something like that. You’re asking me for a shot in the dark. ”

I tapped my foot and tried not to listen to it splashing. “The Internet. Maybe if we had access to a computer—ooh! We could go to the library!”

“Right. And you think that’s the sort of

thing you could find out from a search engine? If the library is even open or has power?”

“Maybe not, but . . . ” But I was backing myself into a corner, and running out of ideas.

“Why are we chasing down fireworks, anyway?” asked Nick.

“Because I bet those industrial-size fireworks could take down a rickety old tunnel and probably the building with it, if we could light enough of them down there. ”

“You want to fight zombies with fireworks. ” At least he said it with a straight face.

“Why not? You have any better ideas? Because right now I’d love to hear them. ”

He threw his hands up and made a gesture that implied he’d love to wring my neck. “Redoubling the efforts when you’ve lost sight of the objective. Great. We call that fanaticism. ”

“No! I haven’t lost sight of anything. I’m just becoming better focused, damn you. Look—they’re coming up from under the city, and I know where they’ll come out. They were buried for who-knows-how-many years, so let’s bury them again! I’m chock-full of objective!”

“You won’t get them all that way. Some of them are still trolling the riverbanks. ”

“It’ll get some of them—and some of them’s better than none of them. Jesus, if we only knew what they wanted. ” I started walking then, because the sound of the scratching, scratching, scratching from below that old building was ringing in my ears and I had no idea how close they were.

He followed me and fell into step beside me, because I guess he didn’t know what else to do. I hadn’t asked him to, though. I didn’t make him do anything. He volunteered for the mission, even if it was only to try and talk me out of it.

“The fireworks might not be there. ”

“But they might be. ”

“You think we can just walk out with them?”

“I don’t see why not. ”

“You think the stadium will be empty? Last I heard from the station, it’d been set up as a base of operations. There are cops, feds, FEMAs, and every other authority abbreviation you can pronounce up there. It’ll be like trying to break into a police station. ”

“Then I guess I won’t knock. BellSouth Park isn’t that big, but it’s big enough to have a million side entrances and exits—especially if you’re willing to climb. And I, for one, am willing to climb. ”

The baseball park wasn’t terribly far away; in Chattanooga’s downtown area, nothing is. You’re working with maybe three or four square miles between the river and the ridges, so all the downtown buildings are clustered tight. The stadium is down by the river but on top of a hill like Becca’s apartment is—simultaneously closer to danger and higher up away from it.

We walked the way mostly in quiet, ducking under overhangs where it was easy and appropriate to do so, and staying out of the rain less than we would have preferred. But we were getting accustomed to it. You had to. You either got accustomed to it, or you went bananas.

So we stayed out of the rain when we could, and we walked through it when we had to.

“Do you smell that?” Nick asked, drawing up short and ducking beneath the overhang of an old retail store.