The Undead Survivor Series (Book 2): Undead and the City

by Radke, K. E.

  The notebook she promised Lincoln was in a side pocket for easy access. She decided to give it to him as soon as they were safe because her time was ending. Lasting twelve hours with the virus eating her alive was a lifetime according to her research, so every second she still had control was a miracle. Desperate to keep up, she thought about keeping one foot ahead of the other instead of collapsing on the ground.

  No one was in shape to keep up their rapid pace for long. Every bullet expensed with the AK brought more attention to their group and the rotting corpses never gave up their pursuit. For every cannibal Lincoln killed another soon took its place. Keeping his ammo supply in mind, he started to strategically shoot one group at a time to pile them on top of each other. It helped trip or block the flesh eaters, slowing them down long enough to give his group an advantage.

  Buildings loomed up the road veiled in darkness. Only one had working electricity. Lincoln hollered from the back that they had two minutes to rest.

  “We just need to make it to a building,” Noah gasped pointing at all their options, but preferred the closest one.

  “Don’t talk. Just breathe,” Lincoln said between breaths. He allowed an extra twenty seconds before he took the lead again.

  Slower than before, Lincoln realized they needed a permanent place to rest and catch their breath. The buildings were a long shot. No one would make it. Glowing in the dark a small moving truck appeared twenty car lengths away. Lincoln directed everyone toward it and took Noah’s spot in the rear strategically stacking up bodies again.

  As soon as he had a moment, he ducked behind cars and looped his way to the moving truck where everyone was collapsed on the ground. Near the back, he tried to quietly unlock the rolling door and lift it high enough for everyone to fit through the bottom.

  Without hesitation Phoebe pushed Wyatt inside first and when he held out his hand to help her inside she threw her pack at him. Lincoln shoved Noah underneath the rolling door next and then his eyes locked on Phoebe.

  He closed the rolling door despite the pleas from Wyatt, and hoped they weren’t stupid enough to open it. Acutely aware the hissing and guttural groans behind them were growing closer, he signaled her to follow him around to the driver’s side. Keeping an eye on her, he tried to gauge her condition and opened the driver’s side door—without checking to make sure the cab was empty.

  Putrid, sagging flesh flopped on top of him. He stumbled, off balance onto his side because of his heavy pack and tried to shove the liquefied mess away before it could grasp him. Skin swung below its jaw with every snap of its teeth. Black, sunken eyes above sharp cheekbones stared back at him as he tried to reach the knife at his side. Rancid aromas made Lincoln gag as he gasped for air from exhaustion.

  Phoebe had nothing to kill it. The only weapons were on Lincoln—her eyes darted to the knife at his side. In seconds her hands were on his waist pulling the knife from its sheath. Blood bubbled in the stab wound as she drove it deeper into its head. Lincoln pushed the body off him and grunted raggedly, “Get in the truck.”

  She held out her gloved hand to help him up and he stared at it for a moment. Before he had a chance to reject her, she pulled her hand back, spun around and did as she was told. Lincoln pulled his knife out of the skull, put it back in the sheath and followed her inside, gently shutting the door. He pulled off his pack and placed it between them as a barrier if she turned while they waited for the horde to pass them.

  “You would have been safer in the back with Noah and Wyatt. I’m not sure how much time I have left,” she whispered.

  “If I left you out here by yourself, Wyatt would have come after you.”

  “You did it to save Wyatt?” she glanced up at him.

  “I did it for Melanie.”

  “Thank you,” she said automatically. Something behind her eyes stung before a numbing sensation enveloped her.

  Croaks and snapping jaws surrounded them and Lincoln put a finger to his lips. He slouched lower in the seat and she followed his lead. Neither one of them said a word until it’d been quiet for so long Lincoln dozed off. He woke up to Phoebe shaking him.

  “You were snoring,” she whispered.

  Rubbing his eyes, Lincoln cursed under his breath for falling asleep and asked lowly, “Have they moved on?”

  “Most of them. It’s hard to tell without any light.”

  Slowly opening the door, Lincoln popped his head out and waited several seconds every time it creaked. With his feet on the ground he strapped on his pack and had his gun ready as he sidestepped to the rear. Near the back, he quietly rolled the door up and saw the end of a barrel.

  “Shoot me and I’ll come back to bite your head off,” Lincoln whispered sharply.

  “That’s actually a thing now,” Noah said lowly and glanced out from the bottom. He pushed his pack out first.

  “What the serious fuck,” Wyatt whispered harshly squirming out of the back. He glared at Phoebe and hugged her tightly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Sorry,” Phoebe said the word mechanically without emotion. A reaction her brain answered automatically when people were upset. He smelled different, her nostrils flared at the same time her mouth watered and then he was gone reaching for the pack she threw at him earlier. Wyatt helped strap it to her back before he reached for his.

  “What happened?” Noah asked readying his AK.

  “The chompers were too close for us to squeeze in,” Lincoln lied convincingly. “So we hid in the cab, which worked out because we saw them pass us.”

  “That was pure luck because you wouldn’t have fit inside with us. It was full,” Noah lifted the door a little higher to prove his point. Furniture took up most of the space.

  They had a cannibal free zone for about twenty minutes. Another herd built slowly behind them, the noise attracting others milling around. Pacing themselves, they hit the first building and stopped to consider it as a hideout. The bank’s windows were all broken with the door hanging off its hinges. No one argued to stay, despite their lungs urgent pleas to stop.

  A block away stood their next option like a flickering lantern in a dark void. It was the only building with electricity. Lincoln and Noah took off the night vision, packing it away safely in their packs.

  Lincoln’s eyes fled up the picturesque, green, welcoming garden near the entrance. The familiar manicured lawn, now outgrown, splashed with decomposing bodies. Looming before him, The Sunrise Senior Citizens assisted living center was the last place he thought he’d end up.

  Survival rarely offers coincidences.

  So, he moved forward, leading the group across the street. Carefully treading down a slight slope to cross the lawn, Lincoln stopped to examine the stained concrete in the roundabout area. They avoided the dead bodies scattered on the grass, just in case one of them wasn’t quite dead yet.

  Nothing but gravely groans and hisses filled the silence in the dark like a horror movie. Lincoln hesitated for a moment wondering if they should try further down. Sparing time for a quick glance at another option, he stared off into the distance until the hoard of bodies trampling everything in their wake demanded his attention.

  The front of the building had an inviting hotel-like atmosphere—even with the bloodstains and dead bodies littering the ground—especially to four people bent at the knees trying to catch their breath.

  Lights glared through the floor to ceiling windows of the lobby as they stood debating their options. A dead body kept the sliding doors from completely shutting. They watched as it attempted to close every once in awhile. Whirring somewhere outside were the emergency generators that kept the building illuminated.

  Glancing back at the hoard, Lincoln felt the pressure to decide their path. He huffed out, “We either go inside and see what’s in store for us or keep running.”

  “Which risk gives us a better chance?” Wyatt asked between breaths.

  “Lincoln,” Phoebe’s voice was barely audible as the arm she lifts grasping a noteb
ook falls limply to her side and she keels over. Wyatt’s distracted for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Lincoln. Not noticing Wyatt’s scrutiny, Lincoln reaches for Phoebe before his hand is pushed away and Wyatt catches her right before she hits the pavement.

  All three men instantly look from her to each other.

  And then they all simultaneously stare at the notebook she dropped.

  Noah picked it up, and peeked at Lincoln, who seemed extremely uncomfortable. Wyatt snatched it out of Noah’s hands.

  Lincoln thought quickly, attempting to distract Wyatt from opening and reading it, he rushed to Phoebe’s legs and commanded, “Move now! Our choice just dropped in front of us. Noah get the pack off her!”

  Wyatt shoved the notebook back into Noah’s hands and lifted Phoebe’s body with Lincoln’s help. Without thinking Noah stuffed it into the front of his pants so he could undo the straps across her torso as they moved. The minute the pack fell off, Wyatt folded her into his arms. Her eyes were wide open, but no one was home. Spit grew in the corner of her mouth dribbling down her chin.

  Crossing the lot, they made it to the sliding doors and everyone hopped over the dead body lying over the threshold. In new territory they stopped at the entrance, and observed their surroundings, everyone on high alert to kill anything that moved. Two entrances were set on either side of the lobby, both paths obscured by the wall’s angles. A large, shiny black, half circular desk sat in the middle of the room as a focal point. To their left was an elevator, and on their right a locked door.

  Dried blood flaked off the tile as their shoes squeaked across the slick floor. No immediate danger was good enough to make them hustle inside.

  Noah threw Phoebe’s bag on the ground near the desk and focused on the two corridors ready to fire if anything appeared. He carefully stepped forward to check them out, and left Lincoln to deal with the dead body blocking the sliding doors since Wyatt had his hands full.

  After throwing his pack at the desk, Lincoln positioned himself outside and seized the shoes on the dead body. His eyes watered at the stench and he tried to ignore the maggots swirling around in deep holes where skin and muscle tissue were missing.

  With a clenched jaw he yanked and stumbled backward landing on his ass. The AK slammed into his chest knocking the breath out of his lungs, and it took him a moment to realize he had shoes in his hands. Blood leaked around the newly formed leg nubs and Lincoln dropped the shoes—with the feet still inside.

  Bile rose in his throat, but when he spun away from the dead body and heaved, fear choked him. The flesh eating parasites were crossing the street. On his feet, Lincoln noticed the man was wedged in by his armpits. The sliding doors refusing to open as Lincoln waved at the motion detector.

  Lincoln jumped over the body and the doors slid open detecting him inside the lobby. He slammed his boot into the dead man. Flesh, bones, and maggots flew in the air as he kicked and shoved the body outside, unblocking the entryway. The fat, white worms squirmed all over the floor while he stood motionless and tried to will the doors to close before the rotten bodies arrived.

  Achingly slow, they finally shut, and he exhaled in relief.

  Spinning around he stopped mid-step listening to the doors slide open again, the motion detector doing its job. He peered over his shoulder to confirm his suspicion and growled in frustration.

  Over the threshold, he stepped back a few feet and searched for the sensor above the door outside. Lifting his gun from its holster, he blasted it to smithereens. The gunshot echoed in the vicinity like a dinner bell calling everyone to eat.

  Right before he stepped inside the building the sliding doors shut. The rush of air like a slap across his face.

  Horror stiffened his arms as he fumbled with his fingers to crack the doors open and pry them apart. The hisses and groans behind him sounded closer and he peered over his shoulder at the hoard treading into the roundabout driveway. His fingers traced the butt of his gun, a comforting gesture that would not keep him alive if he didn’t get the doors opened.

  Wyatt cradled Phoebe in front of the circular desk trying to keep his tears at bay. He glanced up for a moment and watched Lincoln place his back against the glass sliding doors. What the hell, he thought placing Phoebe gently on the ground.

  A few feet from the entrance the motion detectors sensed Wyatt and slid open. Lincoln tumbled inside the building. Wyatt gazed down at him, “What the fuck did you plan to do? Kill all of them by yourself?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Lincoln grunted on the floor staring at the sensor above him. On his feet he aimed at the motion detector, only to lower his arms and raise them again. One bullet could keep them locked inside with other horrors in the building they weren’t aware of yet. But if someone accidently triggered the sensor once the flesh eating group of stalkers arrived . . .

  With only seconds to decide, he retreated from the entrance and yanked Wyatt with him. All their movements triggered the doors to stay wide open.

  In survival mode, he pushed Wyatt toward the desk and grabbed Phoebe under her arms. He dragged her behind the circular desk and motioned Noah to join them. Noah ducked behind the desk and kept the two entrances he was guarding in sight.

  Lincoln’s pack was the only thing left out in the open and Wyatt raced him around the desk to get it. The movement triggered the sliding doors to stay open, and they retreated again until the desk was against their backs.

  At least fifty ghouls were headed straight for them with the doors wide open, like the building was welcoming death upon them.

  Wyatt cursed under his breath, all the furious words lost to Lincoln as he held his arm across Wyatt’s chest to keep him from moving forward. Static thrummed in his ears, his eyes fixed on the entrance hoping the doors shut in time. His hand slowly slid under the AK, the flesh eaters only mere feet away from the building.

  Slowly, taking its sweet time, the sliding doors started to close. Everyone watched as the chomper’s fingers slipped through before they shut.

  Lincoln held his breath watching the fingers wiggle.

  THREE

  “N o. One. Fucking. Move.” Lincoln whispered, his voice barely audible.

  They counted the seconds and watched the black fingers flutter between the doors. Lincoln’s eyes fled to the motion detector, the small device that held their fates in its hands.

  Each finger wiggled until the door shook. Wyatt inhaled deeply as the ghoul yanked backward trying to free his hand. The glass shook with each jerk, until the chomper wrenched its arm right out of its socket.

  Finally able to exhale, but afraid to turn his head, Lincoln asked Noah lowly, “Noah, which way?” There were only two directions to choose from, right or left.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, nothing’s showed up so far. But it’s a big building,” Noah whispered thoughtfully.

  “Noah, do not pass this desk, keep low to the ground and pull Phoebe to the left. She’s closer to that side. Leave the pack, we can’t carry both. We’ll come back for it if we can. Wyatt stay against the desk and move slowly. If we trigger that door . . . run,” Lincoln commanded grimly.

  Noah pulled Phoebe to the back wall before he attempted to move her to the corridor on the left. Each pack was dragged along the floor taking the same route Phoebe did. Rounding the desk, Wyatt followed in Lincoln’s footsteps until they all stood safely hidden in the hall. Only five feet was visible before it turned automatically to the right.

  Noah peered around the corner and gave a thumbs up gazing at a closed door ahead. He softly treaded toward it to gaze out the small window.

  “Phoebe?” Wyatt kneeled next to her placing his palm on her cold, clammy cheek. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Lincoln stared out toward the glass doors holding the decaying devoted followers outside. He avoided Wyatt’s question and refused to make eye contact with him. If he wanted an answer he’d have to get it from Noah.

  Completely ignoring Wyatt’s question, and keeping his eyes focused
on the massive room beyond the door, Noah changed the subject, “It’s an old folks’ home, we should be able to find a wheelchair to move her around.”

  Lincoln chanced a glance at Wyatt and Phoebe. Not noticing Lincoln’s presence, Wyatt felt for Phoebe’s pulse and tried to coax a reply from her. Even if Phoebe had kept her sickness a secret, Lincoln could have guessed with certainty what ailed her now.

  Her sickly, gray skin tone made it evident she had the virus. The gloves still covered her hands, but the black veins were creeping down her arms just shy of her T-shirt’s sleeves. Lincoln stared into her unresponsive eyes. She seemed catatonic until she blinked.

  Wyatt caught her fluttering eyelids and desperation flooded his voice, “Maybe she’s dehydrated. Or low on sugar?” The man was grasping at straws and obviously in denial.

  “No, no food,” Phoebe’s small voice slurred heavily, her eyes barely open as she tried to roll on her side in order to sit up. “I’m just exhausted and needed some time to rest.”

  Lincoln and Noah silently communicated through a glance while Wyatt fussed over his wife. Every time she looked at Wyatt, she had to remind herself she loved the man. She batted his hands away and leaned heavily on the wall in order to stand up.

  Disregarding anyone who opened their mouth, Phoebe used the wall for balance and refused help while she trailed along the corridor until she was at the end of the hallway facing the door. Time was precious at this point, and before she died, Wyatt needed to exit the building alive. Melanie was waiting for him. Thoughts of her daughter caused a torrent of emotions, but the prickle of tears disappeared. It was replaced with a barrier that numbed everything, allowing sustenance to stay at the forefront of her mind.

  Wyatt placed his hand around her waist and the corners of his mouth lifted when she allowed him to help. His smile, she thought, I love this man. He needs stay alive.

  Releasing her grip on the wall, she straightened her posture. If anything is out there, she’ll be the first person they greet. She’d be the barrier between the living and the dead.