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

by Spears, R. J.

  Doc Wilson stood still, not knowing what his next move was. He was a healer, not a negotiator.

  Henry knew it was time that he stepped up, and he literally did so when he moved beside the doctor. “We would throw the canister over the fence,” he said, holding his rifle at his side. “But first, you would have to toss down your weapon.”

  “You will shoot me,” she said.

  Henry lifted his rifle out in front of his body, and then he dropped it onto the pavement below when it clanked down.

  “You need to kick it away from you,” Audrey said.

  Henry stuck out his foot and kicked the gun down the path. It didn’t go all that far, but he knew it would take some effort to get to it, if he had to.

  “Tell your lady friend to do the same,” Audrey said.

  “No fucking way, dead lady,” Molly said. “You’ll have us disarmed, and you’ll blast us off the face of the earth.”

  “Molly,” Henry said. “Do it.”

  “No,” Molly responded.

  Doc Wilson swiveled, held up the canister, and said, “As long as I have this, she can’t make a move.”

  “If the stuff you say is in that canister is as lethal as you say, then I can’t take much comfort in that,” Molly said as she held her rifle in a death grip.

  Henry turned fully toward Molly and said, “If you ever want me to talk to you again, then you need to drop that rifle and kick it away.”

  Molly’s shoulder slumped, “Oh Henry, really?”

  He just nodded his head, and it took a few seconds for her to comply, but she did drop the rifle and shoved it down the path. Her expression looked as if she had just made the worst decision of her life, however long it lasted.

  Henry turned back to Audrey and said, “Now, it’s your turn.”

  This was the moment of truth. Audrey’s gray eyes told him nothing. If she didn’t really care about having her humanity restored, then she could fire and kill all three of them with a simple press of her finger. Maybe Clayton and Kent could get the rest of the people to safety. The problem was that Henry had no idea if this smart zombie didn’t have a dozen more warheads for her rocket launcher. She could do wholesale damage to them if she did.

  The seconds seemed to stretch on and on until she lowered the rocket launcher, then tossed it fifteen feet in front of her as if it were a matchstick. It landed in the dirt of the infield and skidded for a few more feet.

  “Now, toss over the canister,” Audrey said.

  Seconds ticked by, and Henry wondered if the doctor had decided to pull a fast one. While it would have been totally out of character for the doctor, Henry could see some wisdom in it. Then again, the smart zombie could probably get that rocket launcher back in her hands in a matter of seconds.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. Doc Wilson used his fingers to lock whatever mechanism he had unlocked, then he drew back his arm and threw the canister over the fence underhanded. It hit the dirt, kicked up some dust, and rolled nearly out to the pitcher’s mound, a good ten feet from the smart zombie.

  “Thank you,” Audrey said, and she started toward the canister. She had made it halfway there when a rip of gunfire sounded from behind Molly and Henry. Bullets cut through the fence and tore into the undead standing on the baseball diamond. Blood blossomed off each impact and zombies fell, kicking up little dust clouds.

  When Henry looked around, he saw Clayton down on one knee, his rifle up and firing away.

  He yelled, “Stop shooting,” but Clayton couldn’t hear him.

  Doc Wilson took off toward Clayton at a run.

  When Henry wheeled around, he saw Audrey scoop up the canister and take off at a plodding run across the field. Bullets flew around her, but the undead took the brunt of them, coronas of blood bursting into the air. Some of the zombies went down, but most shook it off and came at the source of the gunfire.

  In reflection, this is probably what saved Audrey, Henry thought. Like moths to the flame, zombies always went for the loudest sound.

  Doc Wilson nearly plowed into Clayton and did knock him off balance, forcing him to stop firing.

  “What the hell are you doing, Doc?” Clayton yelled. “I just about had her.”

  “We made a deal with her,” Doc Wilson said, breathing hard from the excitement.

  “You made a deal with what?” Clayton exclaimed.

  By then, Henry had rushed to where Clayton and the doctor were. “Our lives for the canister of nerve gas.”

  Molly showed up to the small group with her rifle back in hand. “I’m with Clayton. We should have blown that bitch away.”

  “She wasn’t a threat any longer,” Doc Wilson said.

  “How do you know that?” Molly asked. “She could have picked up both the canister and the rocket launcher and blasted our asses off.”

  Doc Wilson pivoted and waved an arm in the air toward the field. “But she didn’t. The rocket launcher is still there, and she is gone with the canister.”

  And what he said was true. The rocket launcher sat in the dirt of the infield, untouched.

  “How the hell do we know that she won’t come back and use that nerve gas against us?” Clayton said.

  Doc Wilson looked toward the field where the zombies stared back, their expression vacant. “Oh, she won’t. That canister is her only hope to get her humanity back. She’s gone for good, I think.”

  “I like your optimism, but I would rather have her dead and laying in the dirt,” Clayton said.

  “Well, she’s gone, and we have to get all these people to safety,” Henry said, pointing down the path.

  Clayton looked at the people standing at the end of the path. They were all staring back, and he could see they were about to stampede back inside. “Yeah, you’re right about that. This is your plan, Henry, so lead on.”

  Chapter 115

  No Time for Mourning

  “Move it, people!” Lassiter said as he pinwheeled his arms to hopefully get the people to speed up. Too many of them were overly cautious, taking looks over the shoulder, slowing them down.

  For his part, Donovan was at the back of the pack. Like some of the others, he looked back, trying to catch a view of Mason, but he knew it was fruitless. It had been over a minute since he had heard even an echo of a gunshot from Mason’s gun. He knew with each shot, his friend was still alive. While Donovan knew Mason’s time was short, he wanted it to last as long as it could.

  As he looked back, he felt someone tug on his arm. When he turned to see who it was, he saw Casey, her face just as stricken as his. “Come on, Donovan. You need to let him go.”

  Donovan stopped and put his head down as people surged by the two of them. When he looked up, she saw his eyes were red and raw.

  “It’s just so hard,” Donovan said. “We’ve been through so much together. To lose him this way…” He trailed off, unable to continue.

  Casey still had a hold on his arm. “He’s doing just what he’s always done, protecting his people. Take heart in that.”

  He rubbed his eyes for a moment, then said, “I’ll try.”

  Lassiter came back down the line of people until he ended up beside Casey and Donovan. “Come on, man, we have to get moving. Once that music stopped, we have no idea what’s going to happen. Those deaders could hang out in the center of the Sanctum, or they could head anywhere. If they go back to the gate, then we’re all in trouble.”

  “I know, I know,” Donovan said, and he did know, but he wanted time to mourn his friend. He wanted it all to just slow down for one damn minute, but that wasn’t how it worked. The dead didn’t care. They were merciless, and he had the responsibility of getting nearly a hundred people to safety.

  Lassiter leaned in close to Donovan and said, “You need to do more than know. You need to act.” He must have seen something in the set of Donovan’s face, so he raised a hand up in a gesture of surrender. “I know. I just lost my friend, Eli, but we have to keep going and get all these people to safety. I need yo
ur help. They need your help.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Donovan said, trying to regain his composure, but finding it hard.

  Casey said, “We can do it together. We’ll take the back.” She turned to Lassiter and said, “You head back up front. We got this.”

  When Lassiter turned back around, he saw that the group had slowed down to a crawl again, afraid of another encounter with the undead. All of their time behind the walls had conditioned them that the world outside was a dangerous and deadly place. Many of them looked like frightened cats, skulking cautiously along.

  “I’ve got to get back up there,” he said and ran ahead on a parallel path to the group, making his way back to the front. All the while, he shouted commands that they keep moving. Once he reached the front of the line, the group sped back up.

  Casey gave Donovan’s arm another gentle tug, and it broke Donovan’s inertia, and he started forward. While his first steps were tentative, he seemed to gather strength with each one. Once Donovan reached the back of the line, he was at full speed again, but he slowed to take one last glance behind him. One final look for his friend, but he saw nothing, and his heart sank.

  Chapter 116

  Dual Mission

  “I don’t think we can do both things,” Clayton said as he made his way toward the crowd of people standing around the parking lot. To a person, they all wore worried expressions.

  Henry jogged beside him with Molly and Doc Wilson following up. Doc Wilson, at his age, was barely able to keep it up. After running off the smart zombies, they raced down the path to re-constitute their escape plan to the dormitory.

  Kent stepped out of a cluster of people and said, “What the hell happened back there?”

  “Let’s just say, we saw, we conquered, and kicked ass,” Clayton said.

  “Ain’t that a bit redundant?” Kent said.

  Clayton gave him a quizzical look.

  “Conquered and kicked ass,” Kent said. “That’s pretty much the same thing in my book.”

  “Shut up,” Clayton said, his face going sour. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

  “Can we stay focused?” Henry said as he stepped up next to Clayton and Kent at the edge of the crowd. “We need to get those people to the dorm.”

  “And get the back gate closed up,” Clayton said.

  “Then we have to split up,” Henry said, and he wheeled around toward Molly and Doc Wilson as they came toward the group milling around the parking lot. Doc Wilson sweated profusely and was not in good enough shape to make these sprints.

  Clayton broke in and said, “You know I don’t like that. It’ll give us half the people we need to do that job.”

  “It is what it is,” Henry said. “Those zombies no longer have all that damned disco music to hold them in place. The longer we wait here, the more deaders we might have to face.”

  Clayton rubbed his chin and said, “Well, shit.”

  “Okay, then, Molly, you and the Doc take the group to the dorm,” Henry said, and he turned back around to Clayton and Kent. “We need to get to the back.”

  “Wait a minute,” Molly said. “You’re not leaving me behind. No fucking way.”

  Henry slowly turned on her with his index finger raised to a rigid point right in her face.

  “We don’t need your help,” Henry said. “I don’t need you.”

  “You need help to get that gate closed. I can help.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Henry said. “For this to work, you need to get those people to safety. You need to protect them.”

  “But if you fail,” she said, “we’re all screwed.”

  “You will do this,” Henry said, his face a mask of controlled rage.

  “Please,” Molly said

  Henry leaned in close to Molly’s face, “If you ever want me to talk to you again, you will do this. I don’t want anymore whining and no more shit about it. Do you understand?”

  Molly’s mouth came open, but whatever she was about to say must have gotten lost. Instead, she said, “Okay.”

  “We’ll get them there safe and sound,” Doc Wilson said, still panting for breath.

  “It looks like we’re headin’ for the back,” Kent said, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  Henry snatched the walkie-talkie from his belt and said, “Howie, come in. Howie, pick up the walkie?”

  A moment later, Howie’s voice sounded over the walkie-talkie’s speaker. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. What the hell do you want now?”

  “Where are the zombies?” Henry asked. “Are they still collecting around the building?”

  “Some are, but there are some wandering off from it,” Howie responded.

  “How many?”

  “Enough,” Howie said.

  “Which direction are they headed?” Henry asked.

  “In every direction,” Howie said.

  “Okay,” Henry said. “And thanks. Can you let us know if you see a group of them headed toward the back?”

  “What am I now?” Howie asked. “Some kind of fucking zombie spotter?”

  Kent took the walkie-talkie from Henry’s hand and said, “Howie, don’t be such a hard ass. We need your eyes. Just get off your high horse and do something nice for once.”

  Howie let out a long pained sigh, then said. “Well, I saved those fellas, already. I guess I can go an extra mile or two more.”

  “We need to get moving,” Henry said.

  Chapter 117

  Safe Haven

  “There’s the dorm,” Casey said with a sense of excitement in her voice. Their goal was almost within reach. Safety.

  Her enthusiasm started to spread through the line of people headed in the direction of the dormitory. They surged down the street and moved toward the building, and a few of them even smiled. A sense of relief spread washed over all of them but one.

  Donovan trudged along at the side of the crowd, but he felt little joy even as he saw the dormitory in the distance. It was as if he had left a part of himself behind, letting Mason sacrifice himself the way he did, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  As the crowd closed on the front of the dormitory, the doors burst open, and two older men came out the door holding rifles, but not too firmly. One of them was tall, but stooped over while the other one was short and stout. The round one wore glasses so thick that Donovan thought it was a wonder that he could even see through them. Donovan thought that this old man could mean trouble.

  He jogged along, trying to get to the head of the crowd. He was nearly to the front when the old guy raised his rifle and aimed into the oncoming crowd.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Donovan saw someone lift their rifle.

  It was then that he realized that none of the crowd had spoken a word. They had been so silent because of the fear of drawing the attention of the dead. For a nearly blind man, he realized that their little band could be confused for zombies.

  The old man aimed into the crowd, and even though his aim was shaky, it could be deadly.

  In this new world, like the universe, with each action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. Only in this case, the reaction wasn't the opposite. It was overwhelming as several people in Donovan’s group raised their rifles in response.

  He didn’t want to see a shoot out. Not after what they all had been through. Besides, gunshots would only rile up the dead inside the walls, and that was the last thing they needed.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Donovan shouted as he stepped out in front of his people with his arms up. “Hold up there, old-timer.”

  Donovan wasn’t even sure the old man had heard him, because he still had his rifle up. When Donovan looked back to his people, he saw that none of them had lowered their rifles either. This had the making of a mini-disaster. He didn’t want to see the old man die, but he didn’t want to see any of his people shot, either. But he didn’t see any way to stop it.

  That’s when the tall, stooped over man stepped over toward the stout man and reac
hed out a hand and pushed the other man’s rifle down. “Archie, those aren’t zombies,” he said. “Those are our people.”

  The stout man leaned forward, obviously straining his eyes to look over the crowd. “Are you sure, Lowell?”

  “Yes, yes,” the tall one said. “Those are live, in the flesh, humans.”

  “Well, I guess,” Archie said as he relaxed.

  Donovan felt the breath that he had been holding slip out as he deflated a little as the tension left his body.

  Standing next to Donovan, Lassiter slowly lowered his rifle, but still looked warily at the older men. The others followed suit and let their rifles fall to their sides.

  The tall one stepped forward and said, “What are you folks doing outside the walls?”

  The crowd had stopped dead in their tracks during the brief standoff, uncertain if the old man was going to fire on them. All of these people had guns, but it was as if they had forgotten they had them.

  Donovan realized that this wouldn’t last, so he stepped out in front of the crowd and said, “Well, we’re here for sanctuary.”

  The two older men paused for a moment, looked at each other, and then back at Donovan. Lowell said, “I thought you had banished us out here?”

  “Yeah, about that,” Donovan said, “we didn’t have anything to do about that. That was Eli’s decision.”

  Lowell stepped away from Archie. “Where is that…that asshole?”

  Lassiter paused for a moment and said, “He’s dead.”

  Lowell said, “Oh.”

  Donovan asked, “Is there room inside enough for us?”

  Lowell stepped away and looked back at the dormitory as if sizing it up. It took him a few seconds to make his assessment, then he said, “I think we have space for you and your people.”

  “Good,” Donovan said, and he turned to Lassiter and said, “Let’s get them inside.”

  Lassiter went into action, shouting orders, and directing the people to make their way into the building. They didn’t need much urging and quickly shuffled into the building as the two older men held the doors open, acting like ushers.