The Rising: Selected Scenes from the End of the World

“This is the Federal Emergency Management Agency, broadcasting to all who can hear this message. The United States Department of Homeland Security has determined that Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the other New York boroughs are now safe zones. The quarantine has been lifted. You are free to leave your homes. All civilian and military personnel are encouraged to make their way to the area immediately. Aid stations have been set up for your convenience, to provide food, water and medical assistance. Again, the threat alert for New York City has been lifted and the area is now designated as a safe zone. Make your way into the streets. Military and civilian authorities will be there to assist you. Message repeats…”

The blind man didn’t believe it. Cookie did at first, but he had urged her to wait. He said it was a trick. The message was being broadcast by the zombies in an effort to flush the survivors from their hiding places. Cookie wondered how he could be so sure. The blind man said he heard something coming—something more than just the zombies outside. Minutes later, Cookie heard it to. An army. Tanks and halftracks and heavy artillery. They rolled into the city from all directions. Soon, the sounds of battle erupted throughout the city—screams, explosions, gunfire, and shouting. Cookie sat her empty sardine can down. “I guess you were right. It was a trick.”

“Think about it,” the blind man whispered. “This morning, the zombies were going door to door, trying to find us all. The only reason we escaped was because we hid inside the basement freezer and they didn’t bother to check it. It’s nighttime now. Less than twenty-four hours have passed. If the army had rolled in here and wiped them all out, wouldn’t we have heard the battle? The fighting is just starting now. Wouldn’t they have told us to come outside after the city was secured, rather than before? And even if the army had killed all the zombies, they wouldn’t tell us to come outside. They’d tell us to stay in our homes.”

“Why?”

“It’s a biohazard. We’re surrounded by millions of dead bodies. It doesn’t matter if they’re walking around killing folks or if they’re really dead. Either way, corpses carry disease: bubonic plague or hepatitis or dozens more. Those things outside are nothing more than a walking biological attack. If F.E.M.A. or the army were really here, they wouldn’t tell us to come out until they’d managed to burn the bodies and contain the threat.”

“That ain’t what happened in New Orleans,”

Cookie said. “The authorities said it was safe, so people came out and had to wade through floodwaters and bodies floating in the streets.”

The blind man shrugged. “Perhaps, but this is different.”

Cookie nodded in agreement. The blind man had been holed up in the restaurant since the end of the first week. He’d managed to stay alive all this time. When Cookie had crept into the restaurant a few days ago, half-starved and desperate for food, he’d automatically been able to discern her from one of the undead. He said he did it by smell. Cookie didn’t care what his methods were as long as they worked—and they obviously did. He was alive while the rest of the city was dead or dying. And so far, he’d kept her alive, too. Sure, maybe he was a little weird. He refused to tell her his name and he slept sitting up—on the rare occasions that he slept at all. But he hadn’t tried to rape or attack her the way the last group she’d sheltered with had. Finished with their dinner, Cookie threw away the sardine tins. She wanted a cigarette, but the blind man said the zombies could smell the smoke. Besides, she only had three left and she was unsure when she’d be able to find more. Venturing outside at this point was simple suicide.

Far away in the distance, artillery explosions rolled across the city. Cookie jumped. The blind man smiled.

“I understand that you want to leave,” he said.

“You’re almost out of cigarettes. I want to leave, too. No offense, but with your added presence, we’re running low on supplies. We need food, medicine, water, and ammunition—not that I can shoot very well anyway. But you have to be patient. If and when the time comes, we will leave.”

She started to speak, but another explosion cut her off. It was followed by the sound of machinegun fire. When the sounds of battle faded, Cookie tried again.

“Where would we go?”

“Ramsey Towers,” the blind man said. “That’s our best option. A man came through here a few days before you showed up. He said they’ve got electricity in Ramsey Towers. I say we try for that.”

“How do you know he was telling the truth?”

“His voice—I can tell when someone is lying.”

“But Ramsey Towers is in Manhattan. Might as well be on the moon. We wouldn’t make it one block. Those things are everywhere. Humans, rats, pigeons, cats, dogs—and all of them are zombies.”

“Exactly. That’s why we stay put for now. I can tell by your voice that you’re getting tired. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll stand watch.”