DEAD MOON Box Set: Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (Books 1-3)

by Matt James

  I holster my Glock and think. What’s the best way to go about this? I need to find a way to defeat him without blowing myself up.

  Think, dammit, think!

  My eyes widen. What is it that consistently defeats fire? Water!

  The river…

  I bolt for the side of the house, specifically the gate into the backyard. Peace Creek is my only option. I need to somehow lure Anthony over to the short drop into the freezing cold wat—

  “Look out!”

  I leap to the side and roll to my feet, taking care not to reinjure my already aching ribs. The burner had followed me like I hoped and had apparently shown some impressive speed to boot. There was no way to tell how well the creature could move without giving it a reason to showcase it. For his part, Anthony tumbles to the snow-covered lawn, having just missed the back of my head. I actually felt the heat of his swing on the back of my neck.

  Gunfire erupts back down the drive as the siren and goblins go after my family. Jill and Dad unload into the siren first, spinning her to the ground with a series of impacts. She’s not dead, but she’ll be mostly out of the fight for sure. The goblins scatter and attack from all angles but are kept at bay for the time being.

  I refocus my attention on Anthony and open the side gate, making sure that it stays open for him. I really don’t want to set the cabin’s fence on fire if I can help it. The house survived a lot, and I intend for it to be around a little bit longer.

  My monstrous father-in-law grumbles incoherently, and I’m almost shocked into immobilization by his glowing eyes and mouth. The sight is strange enough that I kind of want to gawk, but it’s frightening enough that I keep my ass moving. There are few ways to die that scare me worse than burning to death and “burning to death because the face-melting heat is coming from inside my Unseen-father-in-law” is high on that list.

  Anthony’s eyes lock onto me and begin to glow even brighter. With each inhalation, his rage seems to build, and with his ever-rising anger, so does the glow. I need to figure out a way to keep this guy calm. Regardless, I think I’ve stumbled upon one of the triggers. Eventually, no matter what we do, he is going to blow his top.

  Poor Jill.

  While she’s busy defending the Yukon, the house, and the rest of our family, I’m over here coming up with a plan to kill her dad. Not exactly the best thing to do to keep your marriage healthy, huh? Usually, the husband might be asked to save a family member in a crisis, not put a bullet in one.

  I’m hoping I don’t have to shoot Anthony. There aren’t a lot of options right now, and no matter how rough things get, that’s going to be my last resort. If, and when, he dies, I’ll do my damnedest for it to not be by my hand.

  Not directly, anyway.

  Anthony follows me through the gate, but not before stopping and laying a hand against it for support. It looks like he may have hurt his ankle, or possibly his knee, during the fall. I watch in horror as the wood beneath his hand starts to smoke. I can’t even comprehend what that must feel like.

  Note to self: Don’t become the wood!

  I backpedal and slip. The stone path to the backyard is slick with snow…and blood. Thankfully, I stay on my feet. Anthony must see an opening because he lunges at me with a pulsating fist of heat. His emotions definitely have an effect on his internal temperature—that’s been confirmed.

  A chorus of shrill cries echoes somewhere behind me. The backyard wasn’t completely void of life like I wanted it to be. I really needed it to be just me and Jill’s father. Now, I’ll have to contend with whatever is coming up behind me, as well as my in-law.

  I pick up the pace and put some distance in between the limping Anthony and me, drawing my pistol as I do. Two goblins scurry toward me, and each takes a bullet to the chest. Another one jumps down from a tree and quickly ends up like his brothers. I have to put a second bullet in this one, though. He’s twitching, and I can’t have him getting back into the game, can I?

  Now, that I’ve stopped shooting, I notice that the commotion out front has subsided. Jill proves me right when she comes running up behind her father.

  “Dad!” she shouts.

  Shit, I think, watching as Anthony starts to turn.

  I bend down and snag a rock from the stone path and chuck it at him. The baseball-size distraction works and he, once more, focuses his attention on me.

  “Don’t do this Jill,” I say, keeping my tone even.

  “He’s my father, Frank!”

  Anthony begins to turn again.

  “Dammit, you prick,” I shout, “look at me!”

  The burner-in-law’s veins pulse with power and he growls in annoyance. Steam billows off his skin as we’re pummeled with even more snow. Now, there’s a forever hissing sound in the air all around us. The wind picks up too, stinging my face and chilling me to my core. My winter jacket isn’t made for this kind of weather.

  Cold? Yes.

  Bitter cold? No.

  The Floridian in me comes out every time the weather turns to wintery dog shit. I love the cold weather, but this is unbearable.

  And it’s only going to get worse.

  Anthony pauses his advance and shivers. The light within him dims a little with each passing second. Like his emotional state, the outside temperature seems to have an effect on his, uh, condition.

  I look past Anthony and witness Jill’s eyes flick down to my gun. Her face changes from concern to terror. She must think I’m about to shoot him.

  “Frank, no!”

  I’m not, but I might have to now. Anthony launches at Jill, who isn’t even trying to defend herself. She’s in shock. She can’t believe what her own father is about to do.

  But I’m not as easy to immobilize. I rush him from behind and tackle him to the snow-covered ground, but when I touch him with my shoulder, even through my jacket, I yelp in pain and roll away. The polyester material has melted, and the heat scorched my skin. Luckily for me, I think it’s just a bad heat rash and nothing worse than that.

  “Frank…” Jill says, looking sick. She knows I just saved her from a series of horrible burns—maybe even saved her life. Tears stream down her face and a look of contentment washes over her. I’ve seen that look before. She’s going to do something insane but she’s in complete control upstairs.

  Jill runs for the river, yelling at her father the entire time. I’m watching while desperately trying to rip off my jacket. Once I do, I toss it aside and hurry after the father-daughter duo. Jill is less beat up than me and is moving just fine. Anthony must really want to sink his teeth into his little girl’s flesh because he takes off at a dead sprint right after Jill.

  I might be able to get off a solid shot, but I’m not sure what will happen to the bullet. Will it burn up when it strikes Anthony, or will it pass through his compromised body and hit Jill instead.

  “Fuck!” I yell, holstering my weapon.

  I fall in line behind them, keeping an eye on Jill the whole way. She’s slowing as she reaches the rear of the property. There’s a gap in the trees about forty feet wide. I know the area well and have frequented the bench there many-a-time when trying to avoid Jill’s folks. I can’t tell you how many snow-chilled six-packs I’ve drunk out here.

  Man, I could go for one now.

  Jill slides to a stop, faces her father, and is bowled into with the force of a battering ram. I fall on my face but realize that’s exactly what Jill wanted him to do. Just as he hits her, she ducks and lifts Anthony over her left shoulder. Fortunately, for her, he isn’t a big guy and looks to have lost a few pounds since turning into the Human Torch.

  Johnny Storm goes sailing into the air and disappears from sight. But my attention isn’t on him anymore, it's on Jill who is screaming in agony. When I touched Anthony, it was with my puffy jacket. When Jill did it, her neck and face got it good.

  I jump on top of her and all but shove her face into the snowy ground. She fights me but eventually relaxes. Then, an explosion erupts somewhere ben
eath and behind us, putting the period on Anthony’s life on planet Earth. A plume of icy-cold water follows his demise, dousing Jill and me in the coldest bath I’ve ever taken.

  The freezing water actually relaxes Jill some as it washes over her beat-red skin. I’m no expert, but I think she got lucky. She was most definitely burned, will probably scar too, but she’ll live and be able to heal on her own.

  We lay there for a few more minutes until we’re discovered by my parents and Hope. At first, they all give us the same huh? expression. It all changes once they get a look at Jill, though. Mom rushes for her and gently puts an arm under one side, while I get the other. Dad, shotgun in hand, leads us to the back of the house.

  “Our gear?” I ask.

  Dad shakes his head. “We’ll get it later.”

  “Yes,” Mom agrees, “let's get inside and have a look at Jill’s injuries.”

  Mom bears the brunt of Jill's weight so I can pick up Hope. I know Jill will be okay. I’m more worried about Cynthia than anyone. With everything going on, we haven’t seen her yet, and I’m praying that we aren’t about to find her rotting corpse on the dining room table.

  17

  “Mom?” Jill calls out as we enter through the back door. Thankfully, Jill has a key, and we didn’t have to break it down. We were also lucky that nothing saw us go in. No one was moving too fast after the experience we just had. Killing Jill’s father has taken its toll on everyone.

  But mostly Jill. She grimaces when I sit her down at the kitchen island. Not just physically either.

  The first thing my mother does is dive into the cabinets, following Jill's instructions, to look for pain medication. If Jill thinks she’s hurting now, she’s going to get a rude awakening in a couple of hours. I’ve seen some bad burns while on the beat. She’s going to be hurting for weeks.

  “You're lucky this place has a stocked bar,” I say, careful to say this place and not your parents.

  I stay close, gently rubbing her right shoulder. I stay away from the left one. It’s a mess and needs the attention of someone with a medical background.

  “Let me see that, Jill,” Dad says, stepping in close.

  While not a doctor, my father has experience with some pretty nasty injuries from his time working the corners of a boxing ring. I’ve seen him cut a guy’s eye on purpose to get the swelling to go down—just like in Rocky.

  With my help, we successfully get Jill’s jacket off by cutting it to pieces with a pair of kitchen shears. Next, is her shirt. It doesn’t come free as easily, sticking badly to her bubbling skin. My heart breaks when she wails in agony as I peel it away, but she immediately relaxes when it finally falls to the floor.

  I cut away her bra next…

  “I, uh…” my father says, stuttering, uncomfortable.

  “Dad,” Jill says, patting his shoulder with a shaky hand, “it’s fine.”

  His eyes open wide. Jill, while always friendly with him, has never called him that. It’s always been Frank—never Dad. Her goal is to relax him and call him Dad as a thank you. Jill isn’t the only one on edge right now.

  He silently nods and gets to work cleaning the wounds with an assortment of ointments and bottled water. Jill squeaks and moans several times until we wrap her upper shoulder all the way to her neck with bandages and gauze.

  The left side of her face, specifically her jawline, is bright red and slightly blistered. She’ll no doubt scar from the ordeal, but I don’t care. I’m just damn glad my wife is still alive. While horribly painful, it could’ve been a ton worse.

  She could’ve died.

  I help her to her feet and lead her over to the couch in the living room. The fireplace isn’t lit, and for good reason. The smoke would swiftly attract the attention of those outside. While cold as shit, it’s best to keep the Unseen guessing whether someone is home or not.

  I look at my mom. “Get a couple of blankets from the hall closest, will you?”

  She smiles and rushes off. I turn my attention back to my shivering, half-naked wife, but leap back to my feet when my mom screams in fright. My hand goes for my gun—

  “No!” Jill yells, hand out, cringing at having to move.

  Her line of sight is better. Plus, I trust her judgment. Then, my mother steps aside and reveals the blood-spattered, twitching form of Mrs. D’Angelo. Jill tries to get up, but can’t, and shrinks back into the over-stuffed sofa. Dad hustles over and helps Cynthia to her feet as Mom finishes retrieving the heavy, wool blankets for Jill.

  “Cynth,” Mom says, trying to snap the woman out of her shocked stupor, “it’s me, Deb.”

  Cynthia comes to some. “Deborah?”

  Jill’s mother is totally out of it, like Woodstock out of it. What she saw happen to Anthony must’ve been too much to handle. Then again, the two of them have been here alone for weeks now—alone and afraid. Like I’ve stressed before, I’m barely holding it together, and I’m way more capable of a human being than these two.

  Well, more capable than they were. I glance at the back door. I’m not looking forward to breaking the bad news.

  Hope is quietly sitting on Jill’s right side, leaning into her good shoulder. Like Jill, she’s tucked herself under the blankets. Her eyes are red too.

  Frightened and exhausted. The sight of them both makes me frown.

  We’re all tired, but a kid’s thoughts, in a world like this, must be mind-blowingly terrifying. I can’t begin to think of the shit going through her head right now. I know for a fact that she doesn’t sleep much. The memory of hearing her whimper in her dreams breaks my heart.

  “Tony?” Cynthia asks.

  I sit next to Jill and lean on my knees. “He’s—”

  “Outside…” Mom quickly says. “He’ll be back soon.”

  She shakes her head. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to keep her husband’s death a secret from her. It doesn’t feel right.

  “Oh,” Cynthia replies, eyes wide, “okay.”

  Definitely in shock. I’m not even sure she remembers what happened. Which means we won’t be finding out what actually occurred anytime soon.

  Dad stands and lays a hand atop his holstered revolver. “I’m going to check the house.”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. He leaves the room and begins his inspection of the home. The center of the cabin is one two-story-tall space. The second floor juts out toward the middle of it, resembling a squared-off horseshoe. Basically, the level above us is one big loft divided up into three rooms, the master bedroom, the guest room, and an office/library.

  Dad’s booted feet find the hardwood stairs a few minutes later, and he clunks his way up. If I were him, I’d be looking for any uninvited visitors, while also checking the state of the shutters. Maybe, just maybe, we can hole up here for the nasty part of the winter and then come out of hibernation once the weather clears up.

  Jill is a mess physically, but her mother is a disaster mentally. Cynthia hasn’t said a word since she asked about her husband. Since then, she’s done nothing but sit in her rocking chair and stare at the unlit fireplace. She must’ve been there to see what happened to Anthony.

  And it must’ve been awful.

  I sit back and eye Jill’s bandages. How do the burners transmit the virus? Is it a “classic” zombie-type bite, or something less obvious? My heart sinks.

  Is Jill infected?

  I need to clear my head, and I stand and head for the front door. Jill calls after me, but I don’t answer. I draw my gun, unlock the deadbolt and quickly exit the house. For a moment, I just stand in silence on the porch with my eyes shut, breathing deeply. Then, I feel my nerves crack, and my fear for Jill’s life bursts forth.

  Tears stream down my cold face as I weep uncontrollably. I can’t lose her now, not after everything we’ve been through. Not now! This was our goal, our endgame. Once we got to the cabin, we’d figure out the rest of our lives. We now have Hope to take care of too. Yes, my parents are here, but it's Jill and I who want to rais
e her together.

  We love the girl—WE! Not just me—the both of us!

  A howl interrupts my emotional outburst, and I get moving. As quietly as I can, but not as quickly as I should, I begin to unload our gear from the back of the SUV. I’m taking more time than I should be, but I need the time. I need to be alone for a few minutes and gather my thoughts.

  No, I don’t know if Jill is infected with the burner virus or not—and yes, she’s probably fine, and I have nothing to worry about. I laugh as I grab the case carrying the scoped rifle.

  Yeah, nothing to worry about… Fat chance.

  I’ll have something to worry about for the rest of my stinkin’ life. That is literally the one guarantee I have. That, and I love my family. Everything else is up in the air, and like I’ve been doing, I’ll have to take it day by horrible day.

  God, I hate this.

  I look up into the snow-filled sky, up into the heavens beyond. If God really does exist, is this what He wanted? I look down at my hands.

  “Why did you choose me?” I ask aloud.

  Millions are dead, and yet, here I am, some random New York cop with a foul mouth and the temperament of a wild ass. Survivor’s guilt is a real thing. I’ve seen plenty of people who have survived mass shootings or horrific car crashes, and the first thing they’ll ask is how did they live when someone else didn’t. Imagine that, but on a scale you can’t even begin to imagine.

  That’s me. I roll my eyes. That’s ‘us.’

  I’m not the only person alive. Lots of ordinary people are still around. Dwayne and the residents of Top of the World, Tennessee are a perfect example. An entire community seems to have survived, for the most part.

  I grab mine, Jill’s, and Hope’s packs and the rifle case, and lug them up the stairs to the front porch. I’m about to set the case down and open the door but am startled when it swings inward to reveal my father.

  He doesn’t look happy.

  “Couldn’t wait for my help, could you?” he asks, thankfully not asking about my wet eyes. I didn’t bother wiping them again, because I didn't care who saw them. Dad knows me well. I don’t have to hide my emotions from him.