Refuge From The Dead | Book 2 | Dead Summer

by Masters, A. L.

  He wanted his favorite books and his photo albums. He wanted some of the framed photos of him and Brenda together. He wanted to take his silver, though he wasn’t sure it would ever be worth anything again. At least, not in his lifetime. He also wanted to take all of his own clothes.

  Aside from the pictures, he missed them the most.

  He started by finding some boxes and filling them with his books and pictures. He had to make sure he wasn’t overfilling them. He felt severe pain in his feet from standing and moving around so much, but there was no help for it. He could rest when he got back.

  He started getting hungry around lunch and took a break to make himself a couple of steaks on the grill. It would be a shame to waste good meat. He turned them once, halfway through the cook time. They were prefect. Charred a little on the outside, with that meaty melted-fat taste on the inside.

  He went and got himself a beer from the fridge. It was a little warm, but it would go well with the steak. Maybe it would cut some of the pain from his feet too. He couldn’t take any painkillers until tonight, not if he wanted to be productive.

  By afternoon he had everything packed and loaded up in his truck.

  He was thankful that Cam had given him a pickup truck. It was much easier to load than an SUV would have been. He covered his stuff with a tarp and tied it down well. You just never know when it would rain. He didn’t see any clouds though.

  He turned to walk back into his house when he heard an engine coming down the road. It was close. He debated on whether he should go out there or not.

  Maybe it was one of his neighbors.

  He’d like to see some of them again. He decided to go out to the corner of the house and kind of just peek around as they went past.

  The sound got closer, the rumble of the engine echoing off the nearby buildings. If it was one of his neighbors, then he could go on over there after they got home. If it wasn’t, then he was probably better off staying hidden.

  No telling what kinds of people were driving around out there these days.

  The vehicle came into view. He was surprised to find that it was a passenger van, one of those large, fifteen-seater jobbies. It drove slowly up the road. Ed couldn’t make out who was in it, the sun glinted off the windshield terribly.

  The van accelerated and whipped right over into his driveway!

  “What the hell!” He stumbled backward.

  He heard the doors slam and voices murmuring.

  What the hell did they want? Did they see him?

  “We know you’re here! We saw you drive in yesterday. We thought we’d give you a little time to settle in before we came to visit!” a man’s voice called out.

  Ed cursed himself for not keeping his weapon on him. Cam would have chewed him out big time if he had done it back on the island. He got complacent since being home, and now he was paying for it.

  He heard footsteps coming around, crunching through the gravel. He looked to his back door.

  Damn! He couldn’t even go in and get his rifle. The door was still locked.

  He had chosen to take the boxes out the front way, where the steps weren’t so steep and rickety. Now he was blocked off from his only weapons.

  He eyed the truck. Could he make it in time to pull away before they got up on him?

  He pulled the key from his pocket and dashed to the driver’s door, throwing himself in headfirst. He heard footfalls thudding behind him and turned over, reaching for the door and straining several muscles in the process.

  His hand closed around the handle.

  Too late.

  “Now, why did you go and do that?” a man said, his iron grip holding the door open.

  Ed looked at him and remained silent.

  “Where are you off to?” the man said, glancing in the back of the truck.

  “Nowhere,” Ed said sharply. “I was just about to unload this stuff. I thought I might stay here a while.”

  That was a stupid thing to say. All it would take is for them to go in the house and see the pictures he left on the wall, pictures of himself that Brenda had hung years ago.

  Crap. He should have stayed quiet.

  “Is that so?” the man said, tapping his fingers on the door of the truck.

  “Hey, Johnny, come on over here for a minute,” the stranger called out.

  The man called Johnny came around the side of the house and Ed grimaced in disgust.

  The man was filthy. He could smell him from ten feet away. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and Ed saw that he was missing a couple fingers.

  “Pardon my rudeness,” the strange man said. “My name is Leonard, but my friends call me Lonnie.”

  He smiled, displaying yellowed and crooked teeth. Apparently, these two weren’t much for personal hygiene.

  “Johnny and Lonnie?” Ed said skeptically.

  Lonnie laughed, holding his belly. “Oh ho! We’ve got a comedian. Come here Johnny and say hello. We’re going to be spending quite some time with…what did you say your name was?” he asked.

  “I didn’t, but it’s Ed,” he said, warily eyeing the two.

  He wasn’t for sure, but they seemed crazier than shithouse rats…

  Johnny came over and offered a hand. Ed took it tentatively, feeling grease and other unknown substances transfer themselves over to his hand. He carefully wiped his hand on his pants when he was done, hoping they didn’t see.

  It didn’t seem wise to offend these two.

  “Now, Ed, here’s the deal. We’re like census takers. Our other friend kind of controls this whole area, and he wants to see how many people are left after what happened. That was a hell of a thing, wasn’t it!” Lonnie began with an oily smile.

  Ed had a feeling he knew where this was going.

  “Now, what we need to do is this. We’re going to take you for a little ride— take you up to meet him and let him know we’ve got another fine addition to our little population. When he’s finished talking to you, then we’ll bring you right back here and you can go on your merry way. How’s that sound?” he asked, eye glinting mischievously.

  “Well, I kind of had plans. Things to do, you know. Maybe you can tell me where this fella lives and I can drive up there first thing tomorrow morning,” Ed suggested.

  “Ah well, the problem is this. Sometimes folks don’t do what they promise. They don’t show up when they should. So, he doesn’t allow that sort of thing anymore, you understand. No, I’m afraid you’ll just have to come with us.”

  Lonnie punctuated this statement by grabbing Ed’s arms and pulling him out of the vehicle.

  Ed didn’t have any way to fight them, and he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t just kill him where he stood if he gave them any trouble. He had to go along and hope they did what they said.

  What could the fella in charge want with an old man like him anyway?

  “Good, good. It’ll be easy, you’ll see,” Lonnie said.

  He glanced over at Johnny and nodded toward Ed’s truck. Johnny walked over and began removing the tarp.

  “Hey! That’s my stuff. There’s nothing in there worth anything to you folks. Please!” Ed said loudly, struggling against Lonnie’s grip.

  “Don’t worry. We’re just making sure you don’t have anything illegal. We have to check everyone’s supplies. We’ll put it all back just like we found it.”

  Ed knew this was a lie, but what could he do? Was he prepared to die for one small load of stuff?

  He walked on, guided by Lonnie’s hand on his bicep. He felt like a prisoner. He was a prisoner.

  They got to the passenger van and Lonnie motioned inside. Ed sat down and Lonnie got up beside him.

  Lonnie looked somewhat apologetic. “There’s a little something we have to do. We do it to everyone, so don’t worry.”

  Ed was worried.

  “We’re going to have to cuff one of your ankles to this bolt in the floor, just to make sure you don’t get any strange ideas. When we get to the highway, we’ll need
to blindfold you. Our boss is pretty particular about the safety of his people. He doesn’t like everyone knowing just where they live. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Ed said.

  Didn’t mean he liked it though. In fact, he was pretty sure he was in big trouble. The metallic clicking of the padlock attested to that.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Threat and a Promise

  Cam

  Cam pulled to the front of their convoy and did a comms check. The new radios were a huge advantage. They could now communicate with a bit more privacy and security, plus a longer range. They didn’t have the crypto loaded, but it was on his to-do list, if they could ever manage it.

  They reported back that he was coming in Lima Charlie. They were good to go.

  Cam had Jim riding shotgun, just in case they needed to man the fifty cal. Behind them, Jack was driving the moving truck, and Monica was riding shotgun with him. They were going to top off the Humvee, then grab some supplies from the store, check on Ed, then drive out to the cabin.

  “That rental truck place may have a trailer we can hook up to this thing, make it easier to get the supplies back to the cabin,” Jim said after several minutes.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Cam said.

  He wasn’t really listening. He was worried about getting through town.

  Once back on the main highway, they pulled over into a small gas station. Cam slung his rifle and readied his axe.

  “Monica and Jack, security. Jim, see if you can find the underground diesel tank. We’re going to have to siphon,” Cam ordered.

  “I’m not sucking that shit,” Jim said.

  “Pansy,” Monica said without turning around.

  “Maybe you should do it. You’ve had a lot more practice,” Jim retorted.

  She flipped him off and Cam grew irritated.

  “You will both be doing it if you don’t shut the hell up and do as I say. We need to get this done. Staying in one place too long is asking for trouble. Besides, I want to hurry and get to Ed’s.”

  Jack and Monica went off, patrolling the area and keeping watch. Cam walked to the storefront and tapped on the window with the axe handle.

  Nobody was home.

  He entered the store and went to the small automotive section. He found the gas cans and took as many as he could carry, then went back out. However, not before grabbing a handful of Snickers bars off the shelf and stuffing them into his cargo pocket.

  He went outside to where Jim had moved the Humvee. He pried open the access to the underground tank and pulled a siphoning kit from the back of the vehicle.

  “You could have told us you had a hand pump,” Jim said, lifting his hands in exasperation.

  “I figured it didn’t matter one way or another. It was going to get done anyway,” Cam said.

  They siphoned enough diesel to fill the Humvee plus the extra cans. That amount should get them plenty of mileage. Next, they filled the tank on the moving truck, which was a job and a half. It took way too long, in Cam’s opinion.

  “Mount up,” Cam said as he capped the tank on the truck.

  He jumped in the Humvee, and they were on their way.

  He wished he knew what awaited them when they got there.

  ◆◆◆

  Forty-five minutes later they entered the very outer limits of town. They saw the power had finally gone out, which sucked, but it was expected. They crept down the main highway, passing various businesses.

  Some parking lots were relatively full, and some were empty. Trash and dirt had accumulated on the once clean streets and sidewalks. Weeds ran rampant and were already taking over. Paper seemed to be blowing everywhere in the slight breeze.

  There was no sign of the dead.

  They pulled into the SuperMart parking lot. Everything was the same as they had left it. Even the propane-filled vehicles were still there. Perhaps they should take them along when they left.

  Cam caught sight of Bradley’s spray-painted message and shuddered. He flashed back to that night, to the horror and the grief and the guilt. He clenched his fist, his nails cutting into his skin.

  He looked over at Jim and caught the absolute hatred on his face, for this place and for the assholes that led to its downfall. They would see if they were still swinging on the way out of town.

  They pulled up to the back of the store and parked near the loading dock. Cam was relieved to see there were no corpses milling around, but it was also strange. It made him uneasy. It was unlikely that many Zs would just wander off unless something had lured them.

  Jim rolled up the large overhead door while Jack and Monica watched their backs. Cam pulled his axe. He didn’t anticipate anything jumping out at them, but it was better to be prepared. They peered into the gloomy back room.

  A waft of rotting, putrid stink blasted their faces.

  They saw the faint bloodstains marking the floor and underneath the rot they smelled the familiar store smell that they had lived with for almost three weeks. It was bringing back so many memories.

  Right over there, two Zulus had attacked Peggy. Down the hall, he and Jim had taken care of Angie when she got hurt, in the breakroom straight through the two sets of double doors was their old mission planning-slash-dinner table. So much had happened here.

  It seemed like years had passed since the world had descended into hell. Yet it had only been a month and a half.

  “Let’s go,” Jim said, clapping him on the back.

  Cam tore himself away from the memories and got to work.

  ◆◆◆

  They started by loading up the pallets of goods they had packed last time they were here.

  They added more canned foods, warm clothing, and lamp oil. Jack kept watch over the vehicles while the other three loaded up the truck. They took everything they could possibly need, and more. They also found that it was best to avoid the refrigerated sections of the store.

  The sheer volume of conflicting rot smells overwhelmed them all, and the sweltering heat didn’t help.

  Around lunchtime, they were just finishing up when Jack radioed in from his position.

  “Vehicles. Out on the main road.”

  Cam dashed through the store and sprinted up the ladder. Once he gained the roof he hurried to the edge and laid on his stomach, waiting. He heard two separate engines and watched.

  The vehicles came into sight.

  The first was a white passenger van, the windows heavily tinted. The second vehicle was an SUV.

  He couldn’t make out any details about their numbers or where they had come from.

  He kept watching as the vehicles drove, winding their way around obstructions. At the far end of town, he saw the vehicles slow noticeably, the taillights flashing red.

  A single shot rang out, and they accelerated again. Cam watched until they had disappeared.

  That was odd. It was entirely possible that they were a good group, and just moving through. His gut told him that they could be a really bad group, and he was going to err on the side of caution.

  He climbed back down the ladder and he reported what he had seen to the others. They finished loading up and they left the store, making sure to secure the door. Cam had them drive slowly around the lot. He wanted to make sure that mysterious little convoy was well away before they followed.

  Twenty minutes later, they had left the town behind.

  They passed under the overpass where they had hung the bodies of the rapist bastards.

  “Stop!” Jim shouted suddenly.

  Cam stepped on the brakes. Jack swerved into the left lane and stopped as well.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Who the hell did that?” Jim asked confused, pointing at the overpass.

  The bodies of the dead had been cut down and were missing. What was more ominous was the message that had been sprayed alongside their own. Cam swore and ran his hand through his hair.

  Vigilantes-Be Warned

  Someone out there rece
ived their message…and didn’t like it. He wondered if it had anything to do with the two vehicles.

  ◆◆◆

  Cam drove in silence while Jim offered up his many conjectures about the sign.

  “Well?” Jim finally asked him.

  “Well, what?” Cam replied.

  “Who do you think did it?!” Jim shouted.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” Jim said.

  “I think it was that group that took over the prison,” Cam said finally.

  Jim was silent. Finally.

  Cam was getting tired of him going all Matlock these last ten minutes.

  “What? Nothing to say?” Cam asked.

  “I’m thinking,” Jim said.

  “About time.”

  Jim stared out the window, occasionally checking around for possible threats. When they found side road that led to Ed’s house, Cam pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

  “Turn left up here,” Jim said.

  “How do you know?” Cam asked.

  “I’m a cop, remember?”

  “So?”

  “I’ve driven these roads many times. When Ed said the name of it, I knew exactly where it was. What house is it?” Jim asked.

  “1277,” Cam said, reading from the paper.

  They drove another ten minutes, Jim giving Cam directions. The road got pretty narrow at the end, as rural roads sometimes do. They finally found it.

  It was a small white house with black shutters and a shingled roof. There was no vehicle in the drive. Maybe he had parked around back? It would be the smart thing to do.

  Cam pulled in, leaving room for Jack to get the moving truck off the road. Not that they were expecting any traffic.

  “There!” Jim said, pointing to the back of the house.

  Sure enough. Ed’s truck was parked out near the back porch.

  “Glad he remembered to keep a low profile,” Cam commented.

  They got out and walked over to the truck. Something wasn’t right. Things were scattered on the ground. Ed’s things, judging from the photo albums and clothing. This was the right house, and he recognized the truck that he had given Ed from the parking lot.