Walking With The Dead (Book 2): Home with the Dead

by Dziekan, PJ

  Sarah started walking purposefully toward the cluster of zombies. Without pause, she fired on the closest ones, each dropping to the ground. She advanced to Jack, who held her pipe. “Get in the car.” She held her hand out for her weapon.

  Jack handed over the pipe, its top dripping with gore. Sarah slid the handle of the bucket over her arm as she took her weapon. He backed up to the Jeep and opened the back door, slipping inside just as a zombie banged on the window. Sarah pushed it away with the pipe then used her gun to splatter its brains all over the door.

  Her stride took her around the backs of the vehicles, where supplies were still being thrown in, cans and bottles mixing together. “That’s enough,” she said. Bobby, startled at her voice, dropped a case of peas. “Get in the Jeep.” Bobby scrambled for a door as Sarah closed the hatch. Donna and Steven put the last of their goods in their respective vehicles and slammed the hatches shut. She watched as they got into the vehicles, locking the doors behind them.

  She looked over the field toward the paths, saw nothing but a mass of zombies headed their way. Bodies fell, the others just walking over them, relentless in their quest to eat. They would be upon them in less than two minutes. Sarah opened the back door of a Jeep, thrust the bucket inside, then closed it, moving back to the front of the vehicles.

  “We have to go now!” She yelled to Ryan.

  He aimed for a fat zombie, grey flesh protruding over a pair of jean shorts, just two feet away and fired. A dry click was all they heard. Sarah brought her gun up and fired, the creature dropping with a thump. “Just in time,” he said, moving behind her to get in the green Jeep.

  “Let’s go!” She yelled to those still fighting. “NOW!”

  April took down one more, sidestepped another then got into the Ford with the kids. Dominic pushed a last one away with his bat and turned to run. His leg buckled and he went down on one knee with a cry. Sarah rushed over and pulled him up by his arm, pushing him towards the green Jeep. She heard a blast, felt a wet splatter on the back of her head. She whipped her head around to see Mick pointing the shotgun in her direction. She looked down to see a creature clad in a spangled dress, its hand touching the back of her leg, its head gone.

  “Get in the car!” She yelled to him. He trotted over, avoiding the corpses on the ground, the questing fingers of the not quite dead.

  “You, too,” he said before he kissed the only clean spot on her face, a small patch of skin near her ear.

  “I’m coming.” She opened the passenger door. “Dylan! Drive!”

  Dylan took a look around, saw the approaching horde. The creatures were so thick, all he could see was bobbing heads and outstretched hands, all blurred together into one single organism bent on feeding. He threw his stained and split baseball bat to the ground and backed to the driver’s door of the Jeep. He opened the door and got in. “Where to?” He asked with a smirk.

  “Just drive.” Sarah’s voice showed her exhaustion, her sorrow.

  Dylan pulled out, clipping zombies as he led the convoy down the path. Ryan followed in the green Jeep, Bobby, Donna, Steven and Michelle wincing as the zombies banged on the glass, trying to get to the food before it disappeared. April drove the Ford, the kids hiding their faces and crying as they left the safest place they had known since the outbreak began.

  Sarah refused to look back. She kept her eyes resolutely forward, sobbing only when Mick reached from the back seat and put a hand on her shoulder.

  ♦

  Dylan slowed at a four-way intersection, pulling into a field and shutting down the engine. “This is as far as I go,” he said, opening his door.

  “Wait, what?” Sarah turned in her seat, the belt constricting her movement. With a muffled curse, she undid the belt and turned fully to face him. “I thought things were better. I thought –”

  “They are. They were,” Dylan interrupted. “But I can’t go any further.” He brought up his left arm. His bicep was a bloody mess, his jacket dark with blood.

  “Oh, no, Dylan.” Sarah bit her lip. She wouldn’t cry again. Her eyes were already burning. He shrugged and got out of the car. Sarah and Mick followed.

  “What is it? Why are we stopping?” Ryan had his door open, one foot in the Jeep, the other on the ground.

  “I can’t go any further,” Dylan said. “I’ve been bit.”

  Ryan flinched. “Bit? How?”

  “Does it matter?” Sarah exclaimed.

  “I guess not.” Ryan looked around as everyone emerged from the vehicles, with the exception of the children. “Where’s Becca?”

  “Dead,” Sarah whispered. “Julianne, too.”

  “Shit,” Ryan said. The sounds of sobbing filled the air.

  Sarah turned to the dying man. “Dylan…” She didn’t know what to say. The tears she tried so hard to stop tumbled down her cheeks.

  “Thanks for rescuing me,” he said. “You, too, Mick.” Mick nodded, his face grim. “Thanks for giving me a little peace before the end.”

  Sarah was openly crying. “Thank you, Dylan. Underneath that asshole exterior, you were a true friend.”

  Dylan barked a short laugh. “Underneath your bitchy exterior, you were someone I was proud to call my daughter, even if only for a little while.” His voice started to break.

  “What do you want to do, Dylan?” Mick asked, his arm around Sarah, her head pressed to his chest.

  “I’d like to take one of those guns and make sure I don’t come back.”

  A sob racked Sarah’s body. Taking a shuddering breath, she lifted her head from Mick’s chest and wiped her eyes. Slowly, she walked back to the Jeep and opened her door. The gun was in the wheel well. She picked it up and popped the clip. Just one shot remaining. Slamming the clip back in, she carried it back to Dylan. “Here,” she said, her voice thick with tears as she handed it over.

  “Thank you, Sarah.” He took the gun and looked out at the people he’d come to think of as friends. “It was my pleasure to know you all. I know you guys can survive this. Good luck.” He turned to walk away, to find a quiet place to end his life.

  “Dylan!” Sarah ran up to him as he turned. She threw her arms around him, tears leaking from under her tightly closed eyes. “Thank you.”

  Dylan felt a prickle beneath his eyelids. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispered.

  “You got me out, you were there.” She pressed a quick kiss to his bristly cheek. “Thank you.” She stepped back and gave him a tremulous smile.

  Sarah’s gesture broke the dam of tension and fear. Mick stepped forward and held out his hand. “Thanks, Dylan.”

  Dylan shook Mick’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Mick.” He nodded his head at Sarah. “And her. She’s something special.”

  “I know.” Mick stepped back to Sarah and pulled her close.

  Everyone came forward to shake Dylan’s hand, say their goodbyes. Dylan was antsy by the time they finished. He could feel the poison coursing through his veins. He wanted to take care of things while he still had the faculty to do it. He pulled away from April. “I have to go. Take care of yourself, OK?” April nodded, the tears running unchecked down her face. “And take care of the kids. They’re our future.” With a last wave at the group, he turned and walked away, heading for a small copse of trees.

  They all watched as he disappeared into the trees, the only sound the chattering of the birds. When the gunshot rang out, the whole group flinched as one. Sarah buried her head in Mick’s chest, taking what little comfort she could. She lost three people today, two that she had to put bullets through their brains herself, to make sure they didn’t come back. It was almost too much.

  Mick rubbed her back, not saying a word until she pulled away. Her voice hoarse, she wiped her eyes and said, “Ryan, make sure he’s gone and get the gun. We’ll need it. Everyone else, get back in the cars. We need to find a place to stay.” She looked beyond the group at the long stretch of asphalt, dreading the thought
of being on the road again. “We need to find a home,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They had been on the road for a week since they had lost their refuge. Driving all day until they found a suitable place to sleep. Every night they had to clear a house or a business just so they could grab a few hours rest. Some nights, there were no buildings. They would sleep in the vehicles, everyone stiff and sore when they woke up.

  Sarah tried to keep the group together, to keep them from splintering, but the constant movement was taking its toll on everyone. They were all irritable, snapping at each other for every little slight. The kids were unruly and sulky. Their principal caretakers were gone; their daily routines completely obliterated.

  Sarah struggled with what she had lost, what she had done. She was still not at one hundred percent after her ordeal at Sugar Creek. Add that to what happened at their supposed safe place in the country and it was no wonder that her sleep was troubled, that nightmares clouded her head. She dreamed that Becca hadn’t been bitten and was begging for help when Sarah shot her in the head. Or that her shot had missed and Becca was now roaming, undead, looking for her. Sarah would wake gasping, her heart pounding, her body wracked with shudders.

  Her appetite suffered, the thought of food making her ill. She’d manage two or three bites before her throat seized up. Her clothes hung on her, the bones in her face becoming more and more prominent. She was irritable, edgy and so damn tired. She needed a break. They all needed a break.

  Mick was driving the blue Jeep, Sarah in the passenger seat, Donna and Dominic in the back. April followed in the Ford, the kids riding with her. She had taken on the role of caregiver, with help from Christa. Ryan brought up the rear in his Jeep; Michelle, Jack, Bobby and Steven keeping him company. Everyone, even the kids, watched the road, looking for somewhere they could stay for a while.

  The Ford sputtered, finally dying in the middle of the street. They were in a small town named Lincoln, surrounded by failed and boarded up businesses. Mick pulled the Jeep to the side of the road, turning off the engine and getting out. “What’s wrong?” He called as he walked to the Ford.

  “It just died.” April opened the door and stepped out. “Gas gauge says just under a quarter of a tank.”

  “Get Ryan. He’s more mechanically inclined.” Mick reached in the car and pulled the lever to pop the hood.

  “Why are we stopping?” Mikey asked.

  “Need to check the car, buddy.” He looked at Christa in the passenger seat. “Why don’t you take them out and get some fresh air?” Christa nodded shyly. “Just keep close.”

  “OK,” she said softly, peering up at him under her fringe of bangs. She commanded the children, her voice full of authority. With the adults, she was shy and reserved, but she was a kind but firm teacher with the kids. Mick smiled as he walked around to the front of the Ford.

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked. Mick turned to see Sarah exiting the Jeep. She thought she was hiding her distress, but she was wrong. Mick noticed everything about her. He studied her as she walked towards him. Her auburn hair was in its customary braid, wisps escaping, drawing attention to the gauntness of her face. Her tee was too loose, tucked into the waistband of her dirty jeans, held up by a belt cinched to the last hole. A holster rested on her right hip, the gun dull in the sunlight. She had taken to wearing it every time she was out of the vehicle. She held her pipe in her right hand.

  Mick knew the stress and strain she was under. He wished he could help. But Sarah didn’t share. She shouldered the burden until she collapsed under the weight. “I don’t know,” he said as she stopped next to him. “Ryan’s has to look at it.”

  “I’m going to see if there’s anything here,” she said, looking around the barren town. “I doubt it, but you never know. I’ll take Steven and Donna.”

  “OK. Be careful.”

  She gave him a quick nod before she headed back to where everyone milled about. He watched her go, sorrow in his bright blue eyes, wishing things were different.

  She passed Ryan heading to the truck, giving him a nod in response to his smile. “Donna, Steven, come with me,” she said when she reached the group. “I want to see if there’s anything worth salvaging. Grab your lights and backpacks.”

  “Sure,” Donna said, saying goodbye to Bobby and grabbing her pack from the back of the Jeep.

  “Do you think we’ll find anything?” Steven asked, gesturing at the boarded-up buildings that lined the street.

  “You never know.” Sarah turned on her heel, Donna and Steven following behind.

  They hit four businesses, not finding much at all until the last one, a hair salon. After dispatching the lone zombie in the shop, a former elderly woman who was just there for a permanent, based on the curlers in what was left of her hair, they found cases of water and snacks in the storage room.

  Sarah blinked rapidly as she walked outside after the dim interior of the buildings. She headed over to the Ford, putting the cases of snacks she carried in the back before walking around the vehicle to where Ryan and Mick still stood, peering under the hood, April standing next to them. “Any luck?” She asked.

  “I’m out of ideas,” Ryan said, straightening up. “I don’t know all that much about trucks.”

  “Stupid question, but is it out of gas?” Sarah asked.

  “The gauge says a quarter tank,” April said.

  “Gauges can lie. Did anyone actually check?”

  Mick looked at Ryan, who shrugged. “I’ll do it.” Mick walked around the Ford and crawled underneath. He knocked on the gas tank. “Sounds empty,” he called back.

  “Shit.” Ryan walked to the back of his Jeep and came back with a five gallon can of gas. “This is it,” he said as he poured it into the Ford’s tank. “We didn’t grab but two cans of gas when we left.”

  “We can get some more,” Mick said as he joined them. “Bobby’s done some siphoning, too.”

  “Then what?” Ryan asked, tilting the can to get the last drops into the tank. “More roaming around?”

  “Until we find some place safe, yes,” Sarah said, leaning against the SUV.

  “Maybe we should go back.” Ryan set the can on the ground. “We left a lot of stuff there. We can clean them out and fix the sensors.”

  “No, we can’t.” Sarah’s voice was vehement.

  “Why not? Most of the zombies have probably moved on. There wouldn’t be that many to get rid of.”

  An image of Becca sprawled in the garden, Sarah’s bullet in her head; Julianna with her throat ripped out; the look on Dylan’s face when he revealed the bite on his arm. “I’m not going back there,” she said softly.

  “Why not?” Ryan asked again. “It’s logical. It’s –”

  “It’s a place of death,” she interrupted. “We lost three of our people there. I’m not going back.”

  “Death is everywhere, Sarah.”

  “Not Julianne’s death. Not Dylan’s death. Not Becca…” Her voice broke. “I can’t go back there.”

  Ryan looked down at the ground. “OK.” He looked back up at Sarah, the pain on her face. “OK, I understand. But we have to find a place, Sarah. We can’t keep wandering.”

  “I know.” Her voice was barely audible. She turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They drove more miles down the road, finally stopping at the only intact structure in sight, an abandoned gas station, bodies strewn about the tarmac. Sarah, Mick and Ryan pulled the corpses out of sight. Christa and April shepherded the kids while Michelle and Donna prepared dinner. Bobby and Steven scavenged for firewood. Jack and Dominic pulled the sleeping bags and blankets from the vehicles and set them on the cold concrete floor.

  Sarah stood behind the gas station, the pile of corpses downwind. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring down the road. Mick came up beside her, pulling his grimy gloves from his hands before he touched her arm. “Hey.”

  He didn’t startle her. She knew his
walk, his scent. “Hey,” she repeated. She took a deep breath. “Am I wrong?” She asked, not looking at him. “Should we go back?”

  He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her too thin body. His chin rested on her shoulder. “No.” His voice was soft but firm. “I don’t want to go back there. I don’t think anyone wants to go back there, even Ryan, if he thinks about it.” He sighed softly. “I’d expect to see Julianne playing with the kids, or Dylan bitching about something, or Becca –” His voice broke, but he pressed on. “—Becca on the porch, writing in her journal.” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t go back and see them again.”

  “We have to find something else, Mick. We can’t keep roaming like this.”

  “We will,” he declared. He kissed her cheek. “Come on, let’s get inside and get something to eat.”

  Holding his hand, Sarah grateful for his support, they headed back inside. The odor of tuna, tomatoes and smoke greeted them. With a final squeeze, she let go of Mick’s hand and walked to where Michelle and Donna were doling out dinner onto paper plates. “Need some help?” She asked.

  “We got it,” Donna said. “Go sit down.”

  “You sure?”

  “We’re good.” Michelle scraped the bottom of a can of tomatoes. “Go get ready to eat.” She looked up at Sarah and captured her eyes. “Eat this time, OK?”

  Sarah turned away. “I’ll see if April needs help.”

  Michelle touched Sarah’s arm. “You need to eat, Sarah.”

  “I will.” She pulled way, not knowing if she told the truth or not.

  She didn’t. She pushed the food around her plate, the thought of eating making her stomach turn. She felt Michelle’s eyes on her as she carried her plate to where the kids sat. She split her food among the four of them, earning a rare smile from Christa. Smiling back at the teen, Sarah carried her plate to the fire and dropped it in, watching as the flames licked up the sides.