The Dead Collection Box Set #1: Jack Zombie Books 1-4

by Flint Maxwell

  “I don’t know,” Norm says, his voice is playful. I’m expecting a joke and this is not the time. It’s his way of coping with things, with tragedy. It tells me he’s actually nervous of what we’ll find at the airfield.

  We pass a sign that says “Butain Airport, a Proud Partner of BSU.”

  “It’s fine,” I say to Norm, filling the silence.

  “I’d give that whole ordeal two thumbs down,” he says.

  Now I have to turn my head because Norm has something in his hand. I can’t help myself, either as I see it. I burst out laughing. Norm has to drop what he’s holding and grip the wheel because I’m busting a gut.

  “Jesus Christ!” Abby shouts. “You two are so immature!”

  I get control of myself and just as the funnies pass over me and I notice the car veering over the now arbitrary, double yellow line, Norm takes the zombie arm and moves the thumbs down into an erect middle finger.

  “Immature that,” Norm says, and busts out laughing.

  Abby scoffs. I see, despite all of this, she’s smiling. That’s what I love about these people — my family. We can be inches — no, centimeters — away from death and still crack jokes immediately after we survive. I know there’s a time and a place for humor and this is probably not the time with Herb in the back still sniffling and our blood pressures still spiked, but I have to say I also think this is a perfect time for that.

  I can see why Norm uses humor as a way to cope. For a moment, I forget all about the snarling zombie faces, the way Klein betrayed us, all the people I left dead in Washington no more than forty-eight hours ago, and the fact that whether or not the world ends depends on our success.

  Norm wipes his streaming eyes with the back of his hands. “I’m just kidding,” he says, then he raises his voice and says, “You hear that, Herb? You saved the day!”

  “I-I did?” Herb’s voice answers back.

  “You did, Herb,” I say. “Thank you!”

  In the rearview, Herb pokes his head up from the back, smiling. His eyes are red and puffy from crying. Darlene ruffles his small afro and he smiles wider. “You’re welcome, Jacky. Anything for you guys. I love you guys sooooo much!” He kisses both hands and blows them toward the front of the SUV like he’s a famous person receiving some award or something. I can’t help but smile and shake my head.

  We turn into the airfield’s parking lot. There are a few cars. All of them are sitting on flats, their glasses covered in debris from the harsh storm a few hours ago. All of them except one car, and this car is parked crookedly near the front doors, the passenger’s side hanging open.

  All the good humor goes out of me, replaced with that usual sinking feeling of fright. It’s as if a cinderblock is tied around both of my ankles while my hands are cuffed behind my back and my mouth is duct taped and somebody tosses me into the deepest part of the ocean so I don’t die while I’m at the bottom…I die on the way down.

  That’s how I feel. That’s probably how we all feel. But we file out of the SUV anyway — because we have to.

  Thirty

  Herb doesn’t act as scared as normal. For this, I am grateful. But not so much for him trying to lead the pack into the heart of the unknown.

  The Butain Airfield is nothing like an airport whatsoever. It’s just two big hangars, a runway, a few other smaller buildings clustered off to our left and right, and the main part in front of us. The doors were once barricaded, but have now been broken through. From the looks of it, it must’ve happened awhile ago. Seeing the cracked glass and the tipped barricades and the crookedly parked cars brings goosebumps up my arms. I still can’t comprehend this way of life where scenes like this are the norm.

  Herb sees the open door up the walkway, the top part of its glass completely gone, swinging and banging. There’s a slight breeze, but that’s not why the door’s open, I think. It’s open because we’ve just missed Klein.

  I reach out and grab Herb. I’m not rough or anything. He jumps at my touch and kind of seems to melt right there on the spot. So much for bravery. I can’t blame the big guy. It’s hard to be brave — I’ll be the first to admit that.

  “Slink back,” I say to Herb.

  He frowns, but I think I see relief in his eyes.

  “Let Norm and me go first,” I say. “Make sure it’s safe.”

  “Okay, Jacky,” Herb says.

  “You got our back, right, Herb?” Abby asks, and Herb nods furiously. The whole time, both Darlene and Norm are looking quite squeamish. I think it’s the silence of the place. This large airfield where a million noises should be sounding — jet engines, trucks beeping while they back up, car engines and their doors opening and closing, people clamoring. But instead of that, there’s nothing. Not even the distant chirp of a bird. To be totally honest, it is quite unnerving. Most things in this dead world are.

  Zombies. That’s what really gets me, I think. We saw a pack not even half a mile up the road. In a sense, and I feel my heartbeat get faster as I think this, we are racing against two clocks: Klein and his end of the world scheme, and the swarm of zombies just down the road who’ll undoubtedly come here as soon as the bullets and planes start flying.

  If it comes to that, Jack, I think.

  Norm has both hands on his pistol and he follows me to the front door. I catch eyes with Darlene then she turns her head to make sure we’re still safe from all sides. Abby goes around the side of the building, her gun held low.

  I peer into the broken glass. All I see are shadows and flipped waiting area furniture. There’s a front desk and poles where ropes probably once hung separating the lobby from the boarding area. There’s a metal detector and a conveyor belt, both lit by the faint, morning sunshine streaming in through the patched and barricaded window cracks.

  It’s still too quiet.

  I look back to Norm and nod my head. He nods back, and we head into the airport’s main building, guns in our hands, hearts in our stomachs.

  Thirty-One

  As we are walking through the hallways, I’m again reminded of how eerie it all is. The desolate towns and deserted streets are one thing, but an airport? Those are never deserted. No matter what airport I’ve been in, there were always way too many Starbucks and way more people. It really is a shock to the system.

  We go through the security checkpoint without much trouble, obviously. This is probably because the corpse of a security man is up against the wall, old blood smeared on the plaster, rib bones protruding from the shredded clothing. The shirt was once blue, but now it’s a dingy reddish-navy.

  I realize, as I’m passing this corpse, looking the chewed face up and down, that my footsteps are the only ones echoing. Everyone else has stopped.

  I turn around and see them huddled together, glaring at the dead security guard. Herb is the biggest of them all yet he slinks low enough to be at Abby’s height, and she’s pretty short.

  “Come on,” I say.

  “Jack — ” Darlene says.

  “What?”

  “Maybe we should stick together,” she says.

  I shake my head. Not at her but at myself. I look back to the security guard. It’s weird, but I notice it doesn’t really affect me, this dead man, this body stripped of its meat now all but a husk of matted blood and chewed bones. This isn’t good. I’ve become desensitized, I’ve become the video game character you play when you’re not afraid to die because if you die, the game just restarts. Well, life’s not a game. It doesn’t restart. You don’t get a second chance.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  The front desk’s computers stare at us with dead screens. They might be dead and most of the world might be dead with them, but we aren’t. I hug Darlene.

  No, we aren’t.

  Thirty-Two

  “He’s probably waiting in the shadows to jump us,” Norm says.

  Herb gasps.

  Darlene and I part.

  “He’s probably got his piece pointed at us right now, just waiting t
o pull the trigger,” Norm says. “And you two are hugging. Come. On.” His eyes scan the shadowy building, but it’s so big and some of the shadows are so dark, it’s almost impossible to know exactly what lurks in them — Klein or some other kind of monster.

  “No,” Herb says, shaking his head. “No, Norm.” His voice has a tinge of finality to it, as if to say there’s no arguing his point. “Doc Klein would never ever do that. He’s a good man. He’s not no killer like Butch and Spike.”

  “I wouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Norm says.

  “What chickens? I got no chickens, Norm,” Herb says.

  “I mean, Klein held a gun to Father M — ” Norm says as Abby elbows him in the ribs, causing an oomph to escape from his mouth instead of the rest of that sentence.

  “Shut it,” Abby says.

  I give my older brother a nod. Let Herb be Herb. He knows this world is bad. He put up with Eden for God knows how long.

  “I’m just saying — ” Norm says, but is cut off again. This time, by a gunshot and it doesn’t come from inside of the building. It comes from beyond it, past the dirty glass overlooking the tarmac. Muffled, but oh so loud. I jump and so does everyone else. Darlene instinctively brings her body closer to me.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  Reluctantly, they follow me.

  Thirty-Three

  Three figures on the horizon, backlit by a blistering sunrise. One of the figures is unmistakably Doctor Klein, the other Father Michael, and the other one is not someone I know. I’m thinking it’s George or maybe an unlucky looter.

  I’m running through corridors filled with tipped luggage carriers and downed, overspilled trashcans.

  “There!” Norm shouts. He’s right by my side. The others lag a little behind. Norm’s footsteps are heavy and wall-shaking. Norm points through a hole in the window panes. The only problem is we are now about a story up. It wouldn’t be an easy drop at all. I stop short at the shards of glass, barely registering the blood dried to the jagged teeth sticking out of the frame and doing the same to the bodies on the pavement below. There’s two of them, that’s all I’m aware of.

  “Gotta be another way,” I hear Abby say behind me. She gasps for breath. The injury has done more than just take her left hand, it’s also taken all of her endurance.

  “No time,” Norm shouts. “Look he’s going to kill him!”

  I won’t lie. I expected Norm to be cut off by the sound of a gunshot and the squirming man about three-hundred feet away from us to stop his squirming. But that’s not the case.

  I get to the edge of the window and look down below. There’s a tipped ladder just beneath the building’s shadows. I swallow harshly and my throat makes this dry clicking noise I hate. It burns a little too because I know what I have to do, and God, I hate that I have to do it. But it’s the only way.

  I take a step. Now my right foot is hovering over nothing. The two bodies below me aren’t moving. Besides, I’ve fallen off of higher things in my lifetime. Once, I fell out of my grandma’s apple tree and nearly broke my arm — no, just kidding. I’m talking about the time I tackled Pat Huber off of the Woodhaven Rec Center to save the rest of my group’s lives. That was about three stories and the only thing I had to break my fall was a few shrubs and the soft middle and bony chest of the elder Huber. It was not a soft landing and my ribs still ache when the weather turns sour. Just thinking about taking this plunge has already got them flaring up.

  “Jack!” Darlene is screaming. And she always does, doesn’t she? She’s always screaming at me because I’m always doing something stupid. I can’t blame her. She loves me. I get it. I wouldn’t want her jumping out of a broken window to the hard concrete below, especially if she had a history of doing dumb things like I do. I also try not to think about Billy being dropped off the top of the building in Washington D.C. to feed the cannibal prawns. Try not to think about the splat his body made when he hit the alleyway or the sound of those cannibal bastards cheering.

  “What the fuck — ” Norm says.

  But he’s cut off for a third time, but probably not really. I’m sure up there he got to finish his sentence. I just can’t hear him over the wind whistling into my ears or Darlene’s shrill shriek and Herb’s grunt of confusion or the mental punch of Abby’s sass saying, Jack, you dumbass.

  I fall for what feels like an eternity and my knees and ribs ache with phantom pain that lasts even longer than that.

  Then I hit the concrete. Except, I don’t. I hit the bodies below me. They make a noise that sounds exactly how I’d imagine stomping a jelly filled doughnut would sound. A kind of hearty squirt. Seeing how these are bodies we’re talking about and not freshly-baked pastries, there’s also a crack from the force of my weight pummeling their ribcages or skulls or something like that, I don’t know.

  It doesn’t hurt at all. None of us.

  “Idiot!” Norm shouts down at me. “Wait, no — ”

  I look up to see another body falling from the window. My hands shoot out reflexively. It’s Darlene. She lands on top of me and we wind up laying in each other’s arms on the tarmac. She smells like sweat, but she’s beautiful, even with her blonde hair covering my face.

  “You d — ” I start to say.

  “I’m not letting you go without me,” she says, and she springs up, using my chest and groin as a stepping stone.

  I can only shake my head as she runs past me, her pistol in hand.

  I look up to Norm and Abby and Herb. Norm shrugs at me then waves me forward. “We’ll find a way. Go, Jack! Go!”

  I do.

  Thirty-Four

  Problem is, this isn’t a movie. Did I think I was going to be able to jump from a window, get screamed at by my family, have Darlene body slam me like a pro wrestler and not get noticed?

  Yeah, things don’t happen like that in this apocalypse, as much as I want them to.

  I see the gun leave the fat guy’s face only because the sun glints off the chrome and it finds Darlene. My chest tightens. Legs pick up speed. She’s got a pretty good distance ahead of me. The fat guy is on his knees, directly in Klein’s line of site and Father Michael is in a headlock.

  “Stop right there!” Klein shouts at her. He won’t shoot. He doesn’t have it in him, at least I don’t think he does.

  I keep running, and when I see the look in Klein’s eyes — this rabid look, almost the same one I saw on the starved dog while we were driving through the city — I stop.

  Darlene does, too.

  “Klein!” I shout. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Leave me alone, Jack. Turn around and let this happen,” he says. “Take your girl with you.”

  Father Michael has his teeth gritted. Sweat pours from his brow and tears from his eyes. Klein moves the gun from me and now sticks it on Father Michael’s temple. The priest squeals as soon as the metal touches him.

  Slowly, I walk forward until I’m about five feet from Darlene, my gun raised. We are in a standoff. I don’t know how this is going to play out.

  “You stop it, Jack! I mean it!” Klein says. One eye darts to Darlene. “Call her off!”

  “This doesn’t have to be like this,” I say. “Just drop Mike and we can talk this out.”

  “Drop him, asshole!” Darlene barks through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t understand!” he seethes.

  He’s right, I don’t, and as soon as Father Michael is out of harm’s way, I’m putting a bullet in Klein’s face.

  “Help me understand. Help me,” I say, just trying to buy us some time.

  Klein looks off in the distance behind me where the rest of the group is running. I hear their footfalls, but I don’t dare turn around.

  “The bastard’s crazy,” the fat man says on his knees. He looks very disheveled. “He gon’ take one my planes. Don’t let ‘im!”

  I ignore this man.

  “There’s only so many spots left. They won’t take everyone. They only take t
he ones who can contribute…” Klein says. He’s talking to himself more than he’s talking to me, as if he’s trying to work out some mathematical problem.

  “It’s all right,” I say. “It is. We can survive together. We can be a family.”

  “The odds,” Klein says, “of survival are next to nothing. We don’t possess the correct — ”

  “What are the odds the dead rise up and walk the earth?” I ask.

  “You don’t understand,” Klein says.

  “Fuck this,” Darlene says, and the words No! are right on my lips. She shoots once and misses because Klein has let go of Father Michael, and he’s fast, so fast. Something changes on his face, something that makes me freeze. His craziness turns to desperation. I see his finger twitch in slow motion.

  “No!” I shout, but my shout is cut off by a gunshot. A cloud of red mist explodes from Father Michael’s face as he lurches forward. A hole appears in his forehead from seemingly nowhere. He’s dead before he hits the ground.

  The fat man screams. Darlene drops her gun, trying to catch Father Michael.

  I go to shoot, but I’m not quick enough.

  Klein growls and grabs Darlene by her head. The fire blazes inside of me. Just a second sooner and my bullet would’ve eviscerated Klein’s face. Now I can’t do anything. He has Darlene in that same headlock, his still-smoking gun pressed to her head.

  He has my fiancé.

  I’m not breathing. My heart’s not beating, blood not pumping.

  Oh God why? What did I do to deserve this oh God why?

  Klein doesn’t linger and what I hate most is the smirk on his mouth. The bastard is actually smiling. Father Michael lay in front of them, bleeding.

  I have my sights on him. My hand shakes. I don’t trust my aim. If I’m a hair’s width off, I could kill the love of my life.

  It’s not worth the risk.