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

by Urban, Tony

  Prince stared back at him, its big brown eyes questioning, ‘What did I do? I’m sorry.’

  Aben never imagined anything could hurt like this. That damn dog was the only thing he’d ever loved but now just looking at it made him hate himself. In a life filled with terrible moments, this was the worst.

  “Go! Get!” Aben grabbed a chunk of ice and hurled it at Prince. It hit the dog in the side and Prince gave a high-pitched yelp that might have been the most horrible noise Aben had ever heard.

  And then Prince darted into the forest. Between the cover of the trees and the tears that blurred his vision, Aben quickly lost sight of him.

  His bare chest rose and fell in hitching wheezes. He didn’t know how much ground the zombies had gained on him and he didn’t care. He collapsed to his knees, sobs racking his near frozen, exhausted body, and welcomed the end.

  Chapter 40

  After sending Aben on his merry way, Saw loaded Mitch into a Subaru Forester that he kept around for longer trips. It lacked the panache of his dump truck, but it got much better gas mileage. Besides, this trip didn’t involve collecting things. This time, they were making a delivery.

  They drove south out of the Pennsylvania mountains, crossing first into Maryland, then West Virginia. As they drove, the snow accumulation became less and less before disappearing entirely. Saw never ceased to be amazed that the US could feel like entirely different worlds within a few hundred miles.

  Saw had given Mitch a few beers and the teen had a good buzz. They were halfway through West Virginia and Mitch was sufficiently slurring his words, so Saw thought it was time.

  “Alright, Mitchy. Now listen careful because you have the most important job of everyone.”

  Mitch’s glassy eyes grew wide. Saw could tell how much he reveled feeling important. “I’m up for it. I promise. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

  “That’s a good lad. Very good.”

  When they made it to the overlook, Saw took out the same telescope he’d used months earlier to show Mitch the island. The teen got so excited he almost knocked it over.

  “It’s like an entire fucking town! There’s houses and RVs and people. People everywhere.”

  “Exactly, Mitch. Looks like a place we could call home, does it not?”

  “Shit yeah!”

  Saw then showed Mitch the map. “There’s only a couple roads that dead end in the lake. And this one,” he pointed to a line he’d highlighted in yellow, “Seems like the one they’d be most apt to use.”

  They drove down the highway, away from the overlook and toward the flat ground of the valley. Saw had to stop twice along the way so Mitch could get out and piss and he worried a bit that he might have got the boy a bit too drunk, but he suspected everything would be fine.

  Mitch asked him again about his role in the attack and Saw felt it was finally time to reveal the teenager’s mission.

  “You saw the gate through the telescope, right?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “Well, Mitch, your job is to open it.”

  Even though he was drunk, Mitch had enough of his faculties remaining to know that didn’t make sense. “How am I supposed to open it, Saw? Wouldn’t it open from the inside?”

  “I’m sure it does. And that’s where you’re going to be.”

  “How?”

  “We saw a boat, a right big one, at the dock by the gate. And that road I showed you, there was a pickup truck parked at the end of it. Only reason they’d need a boat and a truck is because they’re making trips to the mainland for supplies.”

  He looked to Mitch and saw he still hadn’t put the pieces together. “So, Mitch, what you’re going to do is find them when they’re out on a run and get them to bring you back to the island. I want you to find out as much as you can while you’re in there. Who’s in charge. What type of weaponry they have. Anything that might be important. Then, when we show up on January 15, you open the doors for us and we take over.”

  “I can do that once I’m inside, but I’m still not sure about getting in. How do we know they’ll take me back with them? Or do you want me to do it by force, like hold a gun to the ship driver’s head?”

  This was going to be the tricky part. Saw hoped Mitch was loyal enough, and drunk enough, to go along with it.

  “No, you can’t come off as dangerous. No one will trust you if you shove a gun in their face. You got to be sympathetic. Completely unthreatening.”

  “I think I can do that.”

  “I know you can, Mitch, because you’re going to be injured. Unless they’re a bunch of total savages, they wouldn’t let some kid who’s hurt out there to fend himself. Of course, they’ll take you in.”

  Saw watched Mitch as he furrowed his brow and considered this.

  “Okay. That makes sense.”

  “Good. Now get out of the car.”

  Mitch did and Saw followed. They stood in the middle of the road. “Just remember, we’ll be coming January 15 at dawn. So, have that gate open.”

  “That’s almost two months away. You won’t forget about me, will you?”

  Saw grinned. Even though his rotten chiclet teeth weren’t reassuring, he followed it up by putting his arm around Mitch’s shoulder and that did the trick. “Absolutely not, Mitchy. You’re like my son. I’d never abandon you.”

  Mitch surprised him by leaning in to Saw and embracing him. Saw hugged him back and, with his free hand, pulled a straight razor from his pocket.

  “Are you ready now?”

  Mitch let go and nodded.

  “You might want to close your eyes. This is apt to hurt.”

  Mitch obeyed. Saw placed the blade first against his left cheek, an inch or so below his eye, then swept it down in an arc that connected with the teen’s mouth. He was so quick and fluid with his movement that it was finished before the blood began to flow, but that followed within a second.

  Mitch gasped, too shocked to scream, and raised his hand to his face. Saw quickly repeated the action on his right cheek but before he could finish, Mitch collapsed to his knees. Now he screamed. Shrieked. A sound so loud it made a woodpecker flee from a nearby tree and flutter away. Blood poured from the wounds and formed a puddle underneath him.

  Saw rested his hand on the back of Mitch’s head, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, Mitchy. You’ll be alright. Just remember now, January 15.”

  The boy was sobbing as Saw returned to the Subaru, but Saw ignored him.

  Don’t worry, Mitchy. I’ll make a man out of you yet.

  Saw did a U-turn in the middle of the road, and drove away. He was almost certain you couldn’t bleed to death from cuts on your face. Ninety percent, at least. And if he was wrong, so be it. He’d come prepared to smash down that gate if it was necessary.

  He returned to the overlook and waited. Hours turned into days which became a week. Finally, on the tenth day, he saw the boat speeding away from the island. He watched in the telescope as it docked and three men moved from the boat to the truck. A few hours later the truck returned and Saw watched as a big man carried a much smaller man from it. They boarded the boat and sped toward the island. He didn’t know what happened to the other two men who left the island and didn’t much care because he knew his plan had worked.

  “That’s my boy, Mitch. I knew you could do it.”

  He packed away the telescope, casting one more glance toward the island before leaving. “You don’t know it yet, but hell is coming.”

  Part V

  Chapter 41

  The keys felt frigid in Emory’s palm, like a handful of ice cubes, and he quickly dropped them into his coat pocket.

  “Thank you for these.”

  Delphine nodded as a gust of wind caught her white hair and blew it across her face. “Least I can do. Especially if what you think is true.”

  Emory had heard rumors about Delphine’s keys, and had noticed how she always seemed to come and go where and when she pleased. After he told he
r what he’d witnessed, she was quick to offer her assistance.

  “Now go to Wim. Tell him to wait outside of the clinic and if I’m not out by 1:30 to come in and get me.”

  “You sure you ain’t better off taking him with?”

  Emory shook his head. Yes, he probably - no, certainly - would be safer with Wim at his side, but it was too risky. It wasn’t long ago that Wim had been sentenced to almost certain death for defying Doc’s orders. If he got caught breaking into the lab… Emory didn’t have to guess what the punishment would be. He wouldn’t take that chance. He loved Wim too much to risk his life on what might be the delusions of an old fool.

  “No. This was my grand scheme and I bear the responsibility to carry it out and accept any consequences that might occur.”

  “If you say so.”

  Delphine left him then, and Emory’s grand plan went into action. Oftentimes, as the years became decades, he’d thought that being old was the next best thing to being invisible. People ignored you, maybe because you were a walking embodiment of their own fears of aging. The upside to this was coming and going without anyone paying too close attention, and in the dim moonlight, it was even easier than expected to make his way to the medical clinic unnoticed. Once there, Delphine’s keys opened all the locks, including those to steel double doors that were located at the far end of the clinic. It took considerable effort for Emory to swing them open and, when he did, he revealed a long, downward sloping corridor. The grade was so steep that he needed to slow his gait to half its usual lackadaisical pace.

  A bright light illuminated the end of the corridor. The vision brought Emory back to the afternoon when he had to flee the tunnel after crashing his Mercedes. That had been one of the worst days of his long life and wasn’t a memory he cared to relive. As he neared the light, the room came into view and helped him push those thoughts aside.

  When he stepped into Doc’s lab, his first observations were of the sheet covered steel gurneys which stood out in stark contrast against the gleaming white walls and floors. He knew immediately that the sheets covered bodies and, after making sure there was no one in the room, he went to them. Along the way, he saw marker boards covered with notes, dates, and diagrams. Sketches of human-esque figures, people with four arms, no legs, two heads, it was like a demented child’s sketchbook and it made Emory feel ill.

  “What perverse mind came up with this…” But he knew all too well who was responsible.

  Emory approached the first gurney where the sheet was sunken down in the middle, like a valley in between the rolling hills of the human form. He peeled back the sheet, first revealing the dead, gray face of a zombie. Its eyes snapped open and it attempted to lunge toward him, but straps held it to the table. Emory pulled the rest of the sheet away, discovering that the creature was unclothed. Its midsection had been splayed open, all the organs and intestines gone, leaving behind just a black, putrid hole through which he could see the zombie’s spine.

  The sight horrified and disgusted him. He was ready to flee. This was proof enough of Doc’s madness, but Emory had always possessed a healthy sense of curiosity and, with six more tables, he found it impossible to resist. He remembered Grant watching Let’s Make a Deal on many afternoons. Are you going home with the zombie you already have or do you want to see what’s under sheet number two? Let’s try sheet number two. I’m feeling lucky.

  There, he found a zombie whose head had belonged to a white man but its body was that of a black woman. The head had been sewn on so crudely that the stitches gaped apart and black fluid oozed out as it strained toward Emory.

  The third reveal was a zombie with its rib cage split open and its heart missing. The fourth uncovered a man with every bit of flesh stripped off his body, all the muscles and tendons exposed. It stared at Emory through lidless eyes, its mouth opening in a pained growl.

  Leave now, he thought. Go to Wim and tell him what’s happening.

  But there were still two gurneys to go.

  Emory grabbed the fifth sheet, but before he could sweep it away he heard a voice behind him.

  “They are some of my earlier work.”

  Emory spun around and saw Doc watching him. The man stepped toward him.

  “I’m not terribly proud of them, but even DaVinci had to start somewhere.”

  “How could you?”

  “Oh, it was quite simple really.” Doc motioned to the zombie that had been disemboweled. “He was the first. One day, the question came to mind, do zombies shit?”

  Doc was beside him and Emory took an instinctive step away. He didn’t want to be close to this deviant.

  “After all, they’re voracious eaters. That’s pretty much all they do. Eat. So, when they eat, where does all that meat go? I decided to find out. I had Phillip bring me a zombie and fed it can after can of chicken. Apparently, it was close enough in flavor to human flesh to suffice. Maybe we don’t taste like chicken. Maybe chicken tastes like us. There’s a question for you.” Doc cackled at his own joke.

  “After feeding it, I waited and waited. And waited some more. As it turns out, the digestive system of a zombie is quite slow. Nearly twenty-six hours passed but sure enough, zombies do shit. Perhaps that’s why they walk so awkwardly, their pants must be full of it.”

  Another cackle. Emory thought the man seemed to be in love with the sound of his own voice.

  “Once I knew that their bowels worked, I wanted to see what happened with the stomach and intestines removed. Would it die? Or cease eating?”

  Doc took a bag of what looked like pale colored jerky and held it toward the zombie’s mouth. Its head darted toward it and Doc pulled back with a gleeful grin. “Now, now, wait until its properly tendered.” He eased the meat forward, then deposited it into the zombie’s open, waiting mouth. “As you can see, they still eat.”

  Doc moved to the zombie with its chest open. “You take out their heart, they carry on. Lungs are equally expendable, if you were wondering.” He headed toward the black and white zombie. “I cut this fellow’s head off with a common handyman’s saw. I thought for sure it would destroy it but that head remained alert. Hungry. We had her body lying around so I decided to play Dr. Frankenstein. I didn’t even need a bolt of lightning. Just slap them together and on they go. It’s like the easiest jigsaw puzzle ever made.”

  Doc discussed all of this with the nonchalance of a mechanic talking about swapping out engines. Emory supposed, to this madman, that’s all he was doing. To Doc, these weren’t human beings, they were toys and this lab was his playroom.

  “Why though? What would possess you to do this?”

  “Boredom mostly. Little boys pull the wings off flies or burn ant hills for the same reason.”

  “But the people here respect you. They practically worship you. Isn’t that enough?”

  Doc scoffed. “The people here are imbeciles. How could I ever be satisfied leading this group of dolts around by their noses. They’re only alive because I saved them. And do you know how I found most of them? Advertisements in the tabloids.”

  “‘The end of the world is nigh! Do you want a safe haven? A place where you can start anew? Apply now!’”

  “Fools. All of them. I probably could have done a better job of choosing people to save, but this bunch is easy enough to manipulate. They haven’t even realized that I was the one to unleash the virus in the first place.”

  Emory had suspected this ever since Wim told him about the red circle he’d seen on Doc’s calendar, but knowing it was true wasn’t the relief he’d expected. It only brought more horror. He wondered how much time had gone by. Shouldn’t Wim be coming now?

  “So, all of this is because of you?”

  “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  “My God.” Emory didn’t know what else to say. The jubilance Doc displayed over being able to brag over these horrible accomplishments was unlike anything he could have ever imagined.

  “God? He’s a lightweight. It took him 14 billion y
ears to make this world and I brought it to its knees in less than three.” Doc clapped his hands together. “But wait, there’s more.”

  He moved to one of the covered zombies, grabbed the white sheet and pulled it off with the flair of a magician. “I’m calling this one, ‘mother’, for obvious reasons.”

  The pregnant woman looked toward Emory and he realized she was alive - really alive. Her distended midsection looked almost big enough to burst and when Emory examined her closer, he could spy movement, tiny hands and feet pressing against the skin of her belly from the inside.

  “The sperm was harvested from that fellow over there.” Doc motioned to the skinless zombie. “He didn’t mind. In fact, I think he rather enjoyed it. Anyway, a little back alley invitro and eight months later, here we are.”

  Doc patted the bulbous belly. Emory thought he saw one of the hands inside reach toward him but told himself that was impossible. Then again, looking at this abomination, was anything truly impossible? He was no longer sure.

  “I’m quite excited to see what she births. Boy, girl. Human, zombie. Some sort of hybrid. The options are practically endless.”

  Tears leaked from the woman’s eyes and Emory had to turn away. He couldn’t handle any more.

  When he turned, he saw Phillip standing in the background. His heartbeat quickened and pain shot through his chest. It’s time, Wim. Don’t wait. Get in here.

  “You’re a monster,” Emory said to Doc. “And sooner or later they’ll all know. Ramey will see what you really are.”

  “Yes, Ramey. She’s been a massive disappointment. Once, I thought perhaps she’d be able to follow in my footsteps but she lacks the vision. A sad case, that one. But that’s fine. My legacy will carry on in other ways. Regardless, I’m tired of this Scooby Do villain speech and no one’s going to ride to your rescue at the last minute. Let’s get on with it.”

  Phillip grabbed Emory around the neck, his forearm digging into his windpipe and making him cough.

  “Don’t suffocate the old fool, Phillip. That wouldn’t be any fun.”