The Deadland Chronicles | Book 4 | Siege of the Dead:

by Spears, R. J.

  The creature took that moment to speak, “There are more. Many more, and there is no hope for you.” The tone and texture of his voice sounded more like a broken loudspeaker, low and raspy. There was a neutral quality to it that made it seem almost computer-generated.

  Molly jumped away from it, and Darke took a step back and put a hand to his mouth. Hollaway unclasped his hands, and one hand went to his face, where he used it to rub his chin. He said, “Interesting.”

  “Interesting, my ass,” Molly said. “That thing’s nothing but pure evil and needs put down with extreme prejudice.”

  Darke leaned in closer to the smart zombie, standing on his tiptoes, examining it as best he could while keeping a safe, assured distance.

  “I might not disagree with the girl,” Darke said.

  Doc Wilson stepped toward Darke and said, “I don’t think that is the way to go. We need to learn everything we can from this one. It might help us with what is coming.”

  The smart zombie said, “Nothing can help you. They will kill you all.”

  “See what I mean?” Molly said, and as she spoke, her voice raised in volume and pitch. “We should kill that fucking thing and do it now.”

  Henry went to her and tried to embrace her, but she pulled away.

  “We talked about this,” Henry said, trying to modulate his voice to make it even and calm. “We may need it to help us.”

  Hollaway had neither stepped close or moved away from the smart zombie. His face was without much expression other than mild curiosity.

  “What do you think we can learn about it?” Hollaway asked.

  Doc Wilson turned toward Hollaway. “I think the most important thing we can learn is why or how they attract the real zombies to them.”

  Hollaway raised an index finger in the air and said, “Tell me more about this.”

  Doc Wilson took a moment to collect his thoughts, but he said, “From my limited observation, the zombies seemed attracted to this one. It’s like he’s almost magnetic to them.”

  Hollaway said, “I doubt that is the explanation.”

  “I’m talking metaphorically,” Doc Wilson said. “He doesn’t seem to have any direct control over them, but they collect around him as if drawn in by some unknown force.”

  “Could it be scent?” Hollaway asked.

  “What are you thinking?” Darke asked. “Pheromones?”

  “Maybe,” Hollaway replied, slowly nodding his head. “It will require research.”

  Molly shouted, “Hey! This isn’t some blue ribbon fact-finding committee. There are a shit ton of zombies headed our way, and if this asshole can help head them off, I’m all for it, but we can’t spend months collecting data. We need results now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Hollaway said. “I understand the imperative. We will get results.” He paused, and he tilted his head a little and said, “Oh, yes. We will.”

  Chapter 5

  Runners

  “Push!” Donovan yelled as he and Mason shoved a sheet of plywood up the side of the wall. Luke, a self-avowed hillbilly, and one of Eli’s top men, Robert Lassiter, stood at the top of the wall and grabbed the plywood from each side. A couple of men with a background in the construction trades had built a make-shift bracket designed to hold the sheet of plywood in place. It wasn’t that much of a barrier, but it would have to do in the time they had left.

  Donovan and Mason were a part of a contingent of refugees who had arrived at the Sanctum along with Jo, Del, and the rest of her people. Both groups of survivors were on the run from soldiers that had driven them from their individual refugee encampments. Jo and her people had lived in a luxury retirement complex called the Manor. Donovan and Mason had their own underground secret compound.

  “Slide it to the right a couple of inches,” Lassiter instructed Luke.

  Luke tried to push it with his hands, but the wood resisted. “Come on, you son of a bitch,” Luke growled out, but the wood didn’t budge. Since he straddled the wall, Luke reared back with his foot and kicked the edge of the plywood. After two kicks, the plywood gave way and moved into position in the bracket.

  Mason took two steps back to size up the new wall addition. Donovan joined him a moment later, giving the wall a visual inspection.

  “Do you think it will hold them back?” Mason asked. He had dark hair and a close-cropped beard and mustache with a swarthy complexion.

  In contrast to Mason, Donovan was pale and had no facial hair. Both men had the trim physique of soldiers and carried themselves in controlled military comportment.

  “If like we’re afraid of, we get a direct hit here, I don’t know,” Donovan said as he eyed the wall.

  This specific segment of the wall was closest to the back gate and only stood about ten feet. That lack of height made everyone nervous. The prevailing theory was that if enough zombies died and stacked up against the wall, their bodies just might act like stair steps for other zombies. They all knew that this plywood could only withstand so much pressure, but in the limited time they had available, it was the only thing they could do.

  Everyone inside hoped the zombies wouldn’t make it to the back of the Sanctum, but they all basically knew they would. While hope was in ample supply, optimism wasn’t.

  “Let’s get that next one,” Donovan said to Mason.

  The two men moved forward, grabbed the next sheet of plywood,and hefted it up to the men at the top of the wall. Just as the men grabbed it, all of them heard the roar of a car engine coming their way, followed by the bellowing of a car horn.

  “What the hell?” Lassiter said, nearly dropping the plywood as he looked back into the inner part of the Sanctum.

  When Donovan turned around, he saw a midsize pickup truck speeding their way. It was hard to tell from this distance, but he thought he saw the back bed of the truck full of people.

  “That’s Robbie and Dirk,” Luke said from the top of the wall. “They’re making a run for it.”

  “What do we do?” Mason asked as he unslung his rifle from his shoulder.

  The next thing he heard was Lassiter calling Eli on the walkie-talkie.

  “Eli, come in!” Lassiter shouted. “Eli, are you there?”

  The truck closed fast, barreling along. People in the street dived out of the way, and more than once, it seemed like the truck would hit one of them. The driver had his hand pressed down on the horn, continually letting people know they had to get out of the way or else he would roll over them.

  There were two men in the cab, and they both wore determined expressions. He saw that the passenger had a rifle. By this time, Donovan saw that the bed was, indeed, full of people. He saw three women and at least two sets of children, ranging from teenagers to toddlers. They were packed in the back of the truck like a can of sardines. Even at this distance, he could see the fear in their faces.

  “Robbie and Dirk are making a run for the back gate,” Lassiter said.

  The truck took a hard right, moving away from the group reinforcing the wall, and they disappeared behind a building.

  “Shoot them?” Lassiter said.

  Donovan could hear the apprehension in Lassiter’s voice.

  Luke said, “I’m not shooting our own people.”

  Lassiter ducked the order and said, “They’re out of sight. They’re going down a side street to avoid us.”

  Donovan saw the truck cross by an opening between the buildings, but it was barely more than a flash.

  He turned and looked up to Lassiter, “Don’t you have people back there at the gate?”

  “Bonds is back there with a couple of other guys,” Lassiter said. He brought the walkie-talkie back to his ear, then dropped it away. “Eli wants us back there as back-up.”

  It only took Luke and Lassiter a moment to get down from the wall. As soon as Lassiter hit the ground, he asked Donovan, “Can you come? We may need help?”

  Donovan wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved, but he didn’t see any way to get out of it. />
  “Sure,” he said.

  “Let’s go,” Lassiter said, and they all started running for the back gate.

  It wasn’t that far, but the truck had a head start on them. The four men started for the back gate at a fast jog and readied their weapons as they ran. All the while, Donovan wondered if this was his fight at all. These weren’t his people, and he had no responsibility for them and no authority over them. It seemed to be the worst of all worlds, but he knew that the lives of his people were inextricably linked to the fate of Eli’s people.

  If one truck made a run for it, then what if others followed?

  Donovan seriously doubted anyone would survive out on their own. The monster horde coming their way wasn’t going to stop with the Sanctum. It would just keep heading east like it had been. If you were trying to escape, then you’d have to get lucky and hope they didn’t sweep across the path you had taken. And you sure as hell better not run out of gas or have your vehicle break down. If you did and they did catch up to you, it would all be over except for the dying.

  Still, they needed every person capable of fighting to stay inside the walls. Any departures made them weaker as a whole. Any weakness in their defenses could easily mean that the zombies would enter the Sanctum.

  They had to make them stay and help with the fight. But he countered this thought with the question of how do you get someone to fight alongside you when all they wanted was to run?

  Donovan knew that he would find the answer to that question in short order as they got closer and closer to the back gate. He had no idea what they would really find there.

  Chapter 6

  Showdown at the Back Gate

  When they made it to the back gate, it was so much worse than he expected. A full-off stand-off was in motion with the pickup truck just thirty feet away from the back entrance, facing off with only three armed men.

  Avery Bonds stood behind a make-shift wooden barrier and had his rifle hanging over it, pointed at the truck as Dirk revved the engine menacingly. Even from the distance he was away, Donovan could see the barrel of Bond’s rifle trembling. The two men with Bonds didn’t look much more confident.

  To make matters worse, Robbie Baldwin dangled a large handgun out of the passenger window, aiming it at Bonds and his two nervous companions.

  Lassiter snapped up his assault rifle, but coming from behind, his only targets were the women and children in the bed of the truck. Only one woman had a rifle, and the other women either had their arms around their children or had pushed the young ones protectively behind their backs.

  “Spread out,” Lassiter said as he slowly crept toward the back of the truck.

  Mason looked to Donovan for some sort of cue, and Donovan nodded as he side-stepped to the left, leaving Mason in the middle approach path. Luke played it safe and found shelter behind a concrete bench where he took up a sniper position.

  Dirk leaned his head out the driver’s window and shouted, “Avery, you’d better get the hell out of the way, or else I will run you down like a dog.”

  Bonds glanced down at the flimsy wooden barrier, and when he looked back up, it was clear he didn’t feel all that protected.

  “You can’t get out the back gate,” Bonds yelled back.

  “Avery, you know this isn’t going to end well,” Dirk shouted. “If what they’re saying is true, we are all going to die.”

  “Eli says making a stand is our only chance,” Bonds said, but there was a tremor in his voice.

  “Eli is full of shit,” Dirk yelled. He revved the engine, and the truck jumped forward about five feet before it slid to a stop. In reaction, Bonds jumped to his right but got tangled in his feet and fell onto his butt, kicking up a cloud of dust. His two companions shot out from behind the barrier and disappeared from view.

  Lassiter rushed forward and ducked behind a tree but kept his aim on the side of the truck.

  “Robbie, drop the gun,” he yelled toward Robbie Baldwin, causing the passenger to whip around and turn his attention on him. He slowly and deliberately raised his aim on Lassiter.

  “You drop that gun, or I will shoot you,” Lassiter said.

  Dirk screamed past Robbie, “You aren’t shooting us.”

  “We’ll do it if we have to,” Lassiter replied, not dropping his aim, but not shooting either.

  All the while, Donovan moved into a position on the truck’s left side and that gave him a clear view into the driver’s seat. He knelt down next to a concrete trash can and took aim on the driver. This was all well and good, but he had no idea what he would or should do.

  “You can’t get through the gate,” Bonds said as he got to one knee.

  “Why not?” Dirk said, returning his attention in Bond’s direction.

  “Because I can’t open it without Eli’s permission,” Bonds replied.

  “Well, you better get it or else I ram my way through,” Dirk growled.

  “Your truck won’t make it through,” Bonds said. “It’ll wreck your truck and might compromise the gate.”

  “Then you’d better open it, or else I’ll shoot your ass,” Dirk said.

  Mason found cover behind a car parked along the side of the street, and positioned himself directly behind the truck. His angle only allowed him to see the women and children in the bed of the truck. The only thing he knew was there was no way in hell that he would open fire on them.

  Not unless he absolutely had to.

  Dirk lurched the truck forward another five feet and yelled out the window, “I’m warning you, Avery.”

  Bonds scrambled to his right, looking more like a crab than a human.

  “Dirk, Robbie, you have to stop this,” Lassiter yelled at the truck.

  “Bob, we need out of here,” Robbie shouted back. “We have to protect our families.”

  “You can’t protect them by running,” Lassiter said, his voice softening some. “You need to stick with us here.”

  Robbie dropped his aim and looked straight at Lassiter. “Bob, I’m really sorry, but we don’t see it that way.”

  “Please, don’t make us do something we all regret,” Lassiter said.

  “You won’t kill your own,” Robbie said and pulled his arm back inside the cab of the truck and looked out the windshield.

  Dirk began to rev the engine again. Each time he goosed the gas pedal, the engine roared like a terrifying beast. It seemed the only thing holding the truck back was Dirk’s foot on the brake.

  Lassiter’s finger pressed on the trigger of the rifle, putting more and more tension on it. His aim was locked on the side of Robbie’s head. He felt he was closing in on the point of no return, the pressure building. Just as he reached that precipice, something in his inner core let go, and he slipped his finger from the trigger. With that, he dropped his aim.

  On the other side of the truck, Donovan played out the same battle, and he reached the same conclusion. These fools weren’t going anywhere, but he also conceded that they could damage the back gate if they rammed it.

  The engine roared again, seeming on the verge of release when Donovan heard the slightest of pops off to his left. The next thing he saw was Dirk’s head jerk to the right with a blossom of blood spraying into the cab of the truck as his body slumped out of view.

  With his foot off the brake, the truck jerked forward but slowed quickly as it rolled on. A couple of the women in the back of the truck let out screams. The truck shot forward with some velocity but quickly slowed down and drifted toward the gate, doing somewhere between five and ten miles per hour.

  None of the truck’s passengers knew what had transpired in the cab, but a wave of fear washed over them. The truck gently broke through the flimsy wooden barrier, knocking it to the ground. The truck rumbled on and crashed into the gate three seconds later. The impact wasn’t all that great, but one of the women was tossed out of the truck onto the ground, and another one cried out in shock.

  An eerie silence fell over the scene, and no one said a word for
a few seconds. The woman thrown from the truck let out a whimper, but pushed herself up to a sitting position. The expression on her face reminded Donovan of a shell-shocked soldier. She stared vacantly into the distance, not really seeing anything.

  Robbie Baldwin’s voice broke through the quiet as he shouted, “Don’t shoot, I’m coming out! I’m throwing out my gun.”

  A moment later, a large handgun flew out of the passenger window and skidded in the dirt outside. After about five seconds, Robbie pushed the door open, and it creaked loudly as he stepped out. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he shot his hands up. Reaching for the sky, as some might say.

  His face, shoulders, and shirt were covered in blood splatter. It reminded Donovan of that scene from the movie Carrie where the girl was drenched in blood after the massacre at her prom.

  When the woman on the ground saw him, she began to scream.

  Chapter 7

  Aftermath

  Donovan sensed movement, and when he looked to his left, he saw a dark figure with a rifle come out of the shadows of a tall oak tree. Donovan quickly recognized the man as Clayton Lewis. He was a soldier in Sergeant Jones’ crew. Donovan followed Clayton with his eyes as he came closer. There was something both graceful and dangerous in the way he moved.

  Donovan really didn’t know much about Clayton, other than he had gone AWOL from the soldiers at the Manor long before the second set of soldiers took over the place. From what little Donovan had heard, Clayton ended up at a farmhouse tending the geriatric Benton sisters.

  Once Clayton got within earshot, he said, “Damn fool made me do that.”

  “Did you have to shoot him?” Donovan asked.

  He gave Donovan a look and said, “If he had fucked up that gate, you can make for damn sure that those undead bastards would get in here. He didn’t give me a choice.”

  “You know, this could mean trouble,” Donovan said.

  “Whatever,” Clayton said. “Bring it on. It can’t be worse than what is headed our way..”