Life of the Dead Box Set [Books 1-5]

by Urban, Tony

  He leaned in closer, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see through the ice.

  The dog gave another whine then recommenced its digging. Aben realized his hands were going numb in the cold and wondered if dogs could get frostbite. He suspected they could and decided this had gone on long enough.

  “That’s enough now, Prince. Let’s head back to the camp.”

  He grabbed the dog’s collar and tried to pull it away but Prince gave a low growl and he pulled his hand back. In all these months, it had been rare to hear the dog growl, and never at him.

  “All right then. Have it your way.” He stood up and shuffled away from the dog, a few feet at first, then a few yards. He expected the dog to follow. It did not.

  Aben turned back, his patience thin. “Prince!” The tone in his voice made the dog look in his direction. “Come!”

  Prince turned back to the ice, gave another whine, but finally moved toward Aben.

  About damn time.

  The dog crept in his direction, almost belly crawling on the ice. Aben took a step backwards. Then another. When he went for a third, he heard the groan.

  At first, he wasn’t sure where the sound originated. It sounded human, pained. He began to turn around to see if someone, or something, was watching him after all and when he moved there came another groan. This one was followed by a crack and a pop. Aben barely had time to think, ‘all that’s missing is the snap’ before the ice beneath him gave way.

  The plunge was so fast he didn’t have time to take a breath and the next thing he knew he was falling into a frigid chasm. The freezing water hit him like a truck and he instinctively gasped, sucking a mouthful of fluid that tasted like mud and rotten seafood into his throat and lungs.

  He choked on it, his diaphragm spasming as it tried to expel the water. In the process, his body tried to breathe again but he stopped himself from swallowing in more.

  Within seconds, every part of his body was numb. His scraggly beard floated up, into his face and in front of his eyes. Looking through it was like trying to peer through a patch of seaweed. Aben tried to push it away as he kicked to propel himself upward, but he still couldn’t see and he slammed his skull into the ice.

  His vision went blank for a moment and when it returned he thought the water around him had taken on a deep red color. He reached up and examined his head and could run his fingers underneath a large gash that had opened above his hairline. He knew that would have hurt like a son of a bitch if he had any feeling left.

  Despite being submerged, Aben heard a high pitched, frantic barking from above.

  Sure, bark. You got me into this mess.

  He tried to follow the noise, to move closer to it hoping the dog would lead him to the hole. As he did, his eyes began to adjust to the dim conditions underwater and he caught movement in his peripheral vision. He turned to look, but lost it.

  Just a fish.

  Despite the cold, his lungs were burning. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been under but he knew he needed to get air now, not later.

  Focus on the dog. Listen.

  Prince sounded close, just to the right. Aben swam toward the noise, staring up, hoping to see the hole, to see freedom, but seeing only more ice. More movement stole his attention. It was ahead of him, but lower, camouflaged amongst the weeds and muck that filled the bottom of the pond.

  Forget about it and get the hell out of here.

  He pushed himself upward, against the ceiling of ice and tried to pull himself along with the fingertips of his remaining hand. He didn’t know how he could have moved so far away from where he’d fallen in. He felt his lungs spasm and fought to keep his mouth clamped shut to avoid sucking in more of the foul water.

  Aben knew he had only a few more seconds, but between the blow to his head and the freezing water, his thoughts came slow. He tried to focus on the barking dog but it seemed further away now. Barely audible.

  Where the hell am I?

  Something brushed against his back. Even with little feeling remaining in his body he could tell it was something substantial. Not a fish. But he didn’t dare risk looking away and further disorienting himself.

  He clawed at the ice, kicked and pulled himself forward. And then his hand suddenly wasn’t pressing against the ice, it was reaching through it.

  Aben pushed himself into the hole and his upper body popped through, bobbing like a buoy. Prince yipped, an excited but worried noise, at the edge of the hole. When Aben saw him he never thought he could be so joyful and so pissed off at the same time.

  “You damn dog. See if I follow you again.”

  He tried to grab onto the surface ice but his fingers were clumsy and of little use. He kicked and pushed himself far enough out of the hole that he could get his elbows onto the ice, then took a moment to catch his breath.

  Aben got in four good mouthfuls of air before he felt something under the water grab hold of his belt. He had no time to react before the force of it pulled him off the ice and back into the water below.

  When he looked down, he saw a zombie at his waist. Its skin was wrinkled and white, almost translucent. It looked to be around twelve years old and wore a Scout’s uniform, the red kerchief still tied around its neck.

  Aben was used to the cold now and that helped, a little. He reached down and grabbed the maul from his belt. He was unsure whether he’d be able to get enough force underwater to do much damage but he tried anyway. As he swung, the hammer end of the maul caught the boy in the jaw and it peeled off sideways in a way that reminded Aben of separating chicken wings. The zombie’s jawbone floated away, spiraling into the murky water below until Aben lost sight of it.

  Still, the zombie held fast to his belt. Aben went to swing again when another zombie grabbed his hair and ripped his head backwards. The sudden attack startled him and Aben dropped the maul which quickly plunged into the abyss. He remembered Bolivar telling him to get a haircut. He should have listened.

  Aben was out of breath again and when he tried to propel himself upward the weight of the two zombies was too great to overcome. He could feel himself going down. Sinking.

  Maybe this isn’t so bad.

  He’d seen men die much worse. He’d been party to a few of them himself. As far as ends went, this one seemed pretty easy. Probably better than he deserved.

  Above Prince’s frenzied barks grew further and further away. The sound of the dog was the only thing stopping him from accepting his coming fate. Damn it, he’d miss that dog.

  Aben grabbed onto the hand which clutched his belt. His fingers sunk into the zombie’s hand, puncturing the flesh which quickly gave way and came free like a glove. It reminded him a bit of losing his own hand back in a rural Pennsylvania police station and that wasn’t a memory he cared to relive. With the skin gone, the zombie’s finger bones lost their grip on him and the monster floated away.

  That was easier than he thought and Aben began to think he might get out of this yet. He knew it had to be soon though because his lungs were seizing and he battled his body’s attempts to breathe.

  He reached over his head, feeling behind himself until he maneuvered his arm around the zombie’s neck, then he pulled it closer to him. He felt its teeth smash against his skull. Felt its jaws working, chomping down on his hair and realized his unruly mane had some benefits after all.

  Using all the strength he had remaining, Aben thrust his upper body forward, vaulting the zombie over his shoulder. That was the plan anyway. Instead its waterlogged body gave way and the monster’s head popped free of its torso. The skull tumbled end for end through the water and Aben would be damned if its face didn’t look surprised. He was too and it took him a good second and a half to realize he was still on the verge of drowning. After kicking his way back to the surface, his upper body poked through the hole in the ice and he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of air. He wasn’t going to dawdle this time. He kicked, dragged and pulled until his upper body was firmly on the ice surface
.

  Prince kept barking, a sound so sweet Aben started to laugh, even if it was the damned dog that got him into this mess in the first place.

  “How about you give me a hand, boy.”

  Prince plodded toward him, laid down on the ice and licked his face. That was enough.

  Chapter 37

  Saw spotted the man first. He was so white Mitch thought he might be albino and he sat on the bumper of a big rig eating heaping spoonfuls of beans straight from the can. To Mitch, he looked old, to Mitch, everyone over twenty was old. He had an oblong face and mud brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. They’d seen his truck moving a few hours earlier then stayed a mile or so back to remain out of view until he stopped.

  Mitch and Saw traded binoculars back and forth as they spied on him.

  “What do you say, Mitchy? Time to give him our sales pitch?”

  Mitch nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  They left the death machine parked on the side of the road and approached. Mitch had a loaded and cocked pistol in hand and another in a holster on his belt. Saw was unarmed.

  “Wotcha!” Saw called out when they were within shouting distance.

  The man jumped to his feet, sending the empty container careening to the roadway as he rushed toward the driver’s side door

  “Easy now, easy now. We’re as harmless as a couple mice and hope you can say the same.”

  The man didn’t flee, but when he stepped away from the cab Mitch saw he was carrying a broken baseball bat, the fat end partially sheared off into a jagged point.

  “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Solomon. But you can call me Saw. And this is my little buddy Mitch.”

  “Hiya,” Mitch added.

  The man didn’t respond and didn’t lower the bat. Mitch tightened his grip on the pistol.

  “Polite thing to do now is tell us your name,” Saw said.

  “Everyone calls me Casper. And if you’re harmless, why does he got that gun out like he’s ready to use it?”

  Mitch returned it to its holster. With a pistol on each hip he felt a little like an old west outlaw. He liked that.

  “He’s a little jumpy. Had some bad experiences with the zombies.”

  “Ain’t we all?” Casper said and he lowered his bat.

  “That’s the truth.”

  They were within a few yards of the man now. Saw picked up the can and motioned to Casper to get ready. The man narrowed his eyes at first, but when Saw took a pitcher’s stance, he caught on. Saw lobbed the can toward him. Casper swung and connected, sending the now dented can skidding along the highway.

  “I’d reckon that’s an easy double.”

  Casper smiled and Mitch was shocked at how easily Saw had brought down his guard.

  “Are you all by your lonesome out here?”

  “I am. You’re the first people - living people - I’ve seen in almost two weeks.”

  “Shame what’s happened, ain’t it? Almost everyone dead or turned. Rest of us left to fend for ourselves. It’s a hard life.”

  “Sure is.”

  Saw took a seat on the bumper, mimicking Casper’s positioning when they approached. Then Casper resumed his seat beside him. Mitch watched.

  “Where are you from anyway? You got a funny accent.”

  “Birmingham.”

  “Alabama?” Casper raised his eyebrows.

  “England.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  “And you?”

  “Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Little suburb of Philadelphia.”

  “You like it?”

  “Not really. Too many spooks.”

  Mitch noticed Saw squint, confused. He mouthed “Black people” to him and Saw nodded understandingly.

  “Ah, I get that mate. We don’t got any spooks in our group.”

  “There’s more of you?”

  “Right on. Two more. Three if you count the mutt.”

  “Mixed race?” Casper asked with a sneer.

  Saw grinned, showing his tiny, rotting teeth. “No, a real mutt. A dog.”

  Casper’s sneer faded. Mitch moved a little closer to get a better look at the harsh, black ink - prison tattoos - that stood out against his lily-white skin. Among them was an “88” scrawled in the hollow at the base of his throat and a pair of swastikas on the back of his hands. Swell guy, Mitch thought.

  “Why don’t you come with? Spend a couple days with us, see if you like the fit,” Saw said.

  Casper didn’t answer at first. Mitch half-hoped he’d say no. He liked their little group just fine and didn’t see the need to add anyone else, especially some asshole Nazi wannabe.

  “World’s a dangerous place, mate. We could use a man like you.”

  Casper sighed, nodded. “Yeah, that sounds fine. You boys need a ride?” He cocked his thumb toward the semi.

  “No, we’ve got our own. But bring that with. I have a feeling it might be useful.”

  Casper got into his rig and followed them back to Saw’s dump truck. Mitch saw the man’s eyes grow wide when he caught sight of it.

  “Ain’t that something?”

  Saw patted the cab lovingly. “It sure is.”

  Mitch was amazed at how Saw had transformed the man from a potential foe to an ally, all within a few minutes. He’s smoother than a politician. He thought his father could have learned a few things from Solomon Baldwin. Senator Son of a Bitch had tried to control people through empty threats and making them feel small. Saw fed into their needs and helped them be whatever they wanted to be. Saw was the type of father he should have had, not some self-important asshole in a fancy suit. Saw was the kind of man who could teach him about the world.

  Chapter 38

  Saw’s plan was coming together better than he’d hoped. No matter how many ways he looked at it, he couldn’t find a flaw. After weeks of keeping it all to himself, he was ready to tell the others what he’d come up with.

  He went to Jimmy’s cabin first. Not because he liked him the best, he actually thought the old man was a right bellend, but because his quarters were the closest. Saw pushed the door open without knocking, an act he’d regret as soon as his eyes witnessed what was happening inside.

  Jimmy was on all fours on the bed, naked as the day he was born. His face was contorted into a grimace that Saw couldn’t decipher as pleasure or pain. Behind him, Lonnie hammered away. Sweat soaked his body and he seemed to struggle to keep pace with the frantic tempo he’d set. They were so caught up in the act that it took a moment for Jimmy to realize Saw was standing in the now open doorway.

  “Oh, oh shit!”

  Lonnie looked up, saw what was happening, and dropped backward on the bed, his hard dick flailing aimless in front of him. He grabbed the bedsheets to cover himself, but Jimmy had the other end, and the two played tug of war with it.

  This is the lot I’m depending on? Maybe his plan wasn’t so perfect after all.

  Lonnie gave up on the sheet and reached for his pants which were discarded on the floor.

  “Hells bells, men. Bugger each other till your arseholes fall out for all I care. Just get yourselves together and meet me in the lodge.”

  He turned away, smirked to himself, then glanced back. “Go ahead and finish what you were doing. I don’t want you strolling in there with blue balls and a stiffy.”

  Saw went over the plan in his head one more time while they waited for Mitch to arrive. Aben absentmindedly scratched his stump with his remaining hand. Jimmy slouched in a chair at the end of the table and chewed on his mustache, not looking at anyone. Lonnie had been pacing back and forth, tiny, hurried steps. When Saw made the mistake of looking up, Lonnie grabbed his elbow and ushered him to the side.

  The man was still sweating, his skin pallid. Saw thought he looked a half second away from puking up whatever food lay inside his stomach.

  “What you saw there— I don’t want you to— I’m not queer, I just— “

  Saw fought back a grin. “I mea
nt what I said. It don’t matter none to me. Now Casper, he’d probably be of a different mind so you might want to try locking the door lest he catch you two in the throes of passion sometime.”

  Lonnie looked toward Casper who sat at the table, interacting with no one except the cigarette he sucked on nonstop. Saw thought Lonnie shivered.

  “If he’d seen what I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cut your cocks off and shove ‘em down your throats.”

  Lonnie nodded and took the seat furthest from Casper.

  The door banged open and Mitch stepped into the lodge. His long hair was pushed in a dozen different directions and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to chase away sleep.

  “Okay mates. Now that everyone is here, we can get on with it.”

  He told them about the island. About the people. And his plans for them.

  Aben watched as Saw unfolded a map and pointed to a small land mass in the middle of a lake.

  “This is the place. They’ve got themselves set up right good. But they aren’t expecting us.”

  Aben looked from the map to Saw. The man’s beady eyes were downright gleeful.

  “And that’s going to make it easier for us to take.”

  “Why?” Aben asked.

  The question seemed to puzzle Saw and he didn’t answer right away. “Because I want it.”

  That wasn’t the answer Aben wanted to hear and Saw seemed to sense that. His expression softened. “Look, Aben, those people, they’ve got themselves their own safe haven out there. They should be flying a fucking welcome flag. But instead they’re hoarding it all for themselves. What kind of people do that?”

  Smart ones, Aben thought.

  “That still doesn’t give us the right to storm in there, guns blazing,” Aben said.

  “‘Wake up man. Did the Europeans have the right to take this country from the Indians? And did the Indians have the right to take it from whoever they stole it from? Did you have the right to march into Baghdad or wherever the fuck you were in the war?”