Dead Love
Dead South Book Four
Zach Bohannon
Copyright © 2021 by Zach Bohannon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Jennifer Collins
Cover by Yocla Designs
zachbohannon.com
moltenuniversemedia.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Dead Past
Stay Informed
Also by Zach Bohannon
About Zach Bohannon
1
Malcolm undid the top button of his shirt, loosening the collar from his sore neck. His throat still pulsated from Jon having had his arm wrapped around it, and Malcolm put his hand there to massage it. The Savage had applied enough pressure to where he'd hardly been able to breathe. A little more pressure, and Malcolm would've drawn his last breath.
Stepping over to the far wall of his living space in the back of the church, Malcolm sat in his reading chair.
The Black Hill leader cursed himself. He should've killed the Savage when he'd had the chance. Malcolm had possessed all the leverage in the situation, what with having the boy, Lucas, as a hostage. He could've simply shot and killed Jon right then, but he'd let his ego get the best of him. Simply shooting the man hadn't seemed like a just enough death for the man who'd murdered Judah. And the Savage had used that to his advantage to get an upper hand in the situation and manipulate Malcolm.
He grabbed the pendulum from under his shirt, gripping it tight in his palm.
I won't let that happen again.
Malcolm dipped his face into his other palm. He knew it would take a while for all of the adrenaline to leave his veins. He needed to take the time to calm before deciding what their next move was going to be. Making an emotional decision was almost never a good idea, and he was smart enough to know that. He'd already made a big enough mistake by letting the Savage get out of his grasp once. The next time Malcolm saw the man, he was going to make sure to finish him off. He still hoped that he would get the chance to make the Savage suffer, too, but what was most important would be the man being dead.
Malcolm looked up when he heard the door slam out in the church's sanctuary. Curse words echoed through the space, making it all the way back to Malcolm's living quarters. Boots marched up the stairs outside, crude and uncaring, making it no mystery who was about to walk through the door.
Bennett entered, sweat collected on his brow. His stringy hair was more oily than usual, and he panted. His lip curled, both his hands balled into fists.
The man stomping around and so outwardly showing his anger reminded Malcolm of what it was to be calm and collected. Bennett was using so much willpower and energy just to appear frustrated. It was all a waste.
"They're all gone," Bennett said. "Every last fucking one of them."
He was, of course, speaking of the prisoners. Malcolm had sent him over to the jail, to be sure.
"Stephen is just waking up," Bennett continued. "I'll debrief him soon and try to find out what the fuck happened."
"Good," Malcolm said, though he didn't care what Stephen had to say. None of it would change the outcome. All their prisoners had escaped, and the man he wanted dead more than any other in the world had outsmarted and manipulated him.
The door opened again, and this time Bryce walked in. His eyes appeared heavy and tired, and he wore a ratty T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
"What the hell is going on?" Bryce asked.
"Nice of you to fucking join us," Bennett spat. "You're a little late."
Bryce eyed Bennett for a moment, then shook his head before turning his attention to Malcolm. "What happened?"
"What happened is that the prisoners are gone," Bennett answered.
"All of them?" Bryce asked.
Bennett came within inches of Bryce's face. "Did I fucking stutter?"
Bryce put his hands on his hips. "Look, I'm just trying to get caught up on what happened. Now, do you want to cut the shit and tell me?"
"I wouldn't have to tell you if you'd been here."
"And I wouldn't have to—"
"Enough!"
Both men looked over at Malcolm as he stood up from the chair.
"You two idiots fighting isn't doing us any good." Malcolm next looked directly at Bryce. "All you need to know for now is that the prisoners escaped, and the Savage is alive."
Bryce raised an eyebrow. "You saw him yourself?"
Malcolm collected himself, feeling his pulse rise. "You could say that."
"So, what are we going to do?" Bryce asked.
"I think you should let me go take care of them now, boss," Bennett said. "They can't be that far away from the camp yet. I'll bet there's still time to—"
"No," Malcolm said. "We aren't prepared for that. It's not even dawn, and they already caught us off-guard."
Bennett made a fist with each hand, biting his lip. Malcolm ignored the man's frustration and thought through the options.
"It's best for us to wait," Malcolm said. "They aren't going to do anything, at least not yet. We have time to plan our next move. And whatever we do, I'm going to make sure we make it count."
"What do you want us to do now?" Bryce asked.
Malcolm paused, considering the directions he wanted to give his two men. He looked at Bennett first.
"I want you to go take an inventory of what we have in the barracks—specifically ammo and explosives."
Bennett grinned. "Yes, sir."
Malcolm turned his focus to Bryce. "And I'd like for you to get me a count on everyone who can fire a gun. Women, kids—it doesn't matter. If they can fight, I want them counted." Malcolm crossed his arms. "It's time to get ready for war, gentlemen."
2
Jon South stared out the back window of the van, waiting for headlights to shine on them at any moment. He'd expected Malcolm to send a team of his armed soldiers after them. It had surprised him enough when he'd made it to the van, and then found no one following them through the gate and chasing them. But even though he waited to see a vehicle speeding up behind them, no one seemed to be following.
Every inch of the cargo van was taken up with warm bodies. Along with Jon, Brooke, Raylon, and Terrence, there was Adrian, Samantha, Jada, Leslie, and Lisa. Then four kids—Lucas, Carla, Alex, and Brittany. It was a tight fit, almost too much for even the cargo van. Jon squeezed between them all to get to the front. He positioned himself between the two front seats, where Raylon drove
and Brooke sat in the passenger seat.
"It doesn't seem like anyone is following us."
"I didn't think they would," Raylon said. "That's not Malcolm's style. He knows we aren't going anywhere and that he can take his time figuring out what his next move should be."
"That still seems odd to me," Brooke said. "I'd have thought they'd come after us while they have the chance."
"Oh, don't mistake what I'm saying," Raylon said. "He will come after us. He's just going to be thoughtful in his approach."
Inside, Jon cursed himself. He wished he'd just snapped Malcolm's neck when he'd had the chance, even if it would've meant that he'd died, too. At least he could've died knowing Malcolm wouldn't be able to go after his friends in the future. Jon wouldn't make the same mistake again.
"Since they aren't following us, we should pull over," Jon said. "We can step out and talk for a minute."
"Alright," Raylon said. He slowed, pulling the van over onto the side of the road and coming to a complete stop.
"What are we doing?" Rosa asked.
"We just need to stop really quick," Brooke said.
"Aren't there bad people after us?" Lucas asked.
"No, there's not, buddy," Jon said. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We're only stopping for a minute. No one's going to get us."
Raylon and Brooke exited through the front while Jon maneuvered to the sliding door, careful not to step on anyone. Before he opened the door, he looked down at Terrence.
"You doing alright?"
"Yeah," Terrence said with a groan. "I want to join you guys out there."
"Just hang tight. This'll only take a minute. You need to rest."
Terrence nodded, clearly frustrated. Jon felt bad for his friend, but remained thankful he was alright. He slid the door open and got out. Jon was quiet, listening for zombies, but all he heard were crickets. He joined Raylon and Brooke in the middle of the road.
For the first time since the events at Black Hill, the three finally caught their breath. They stood for a moment in a triangle, outside of the beams of the headlights which allowed them to see each other's faces. No one said anything.
"Thank you, guys," Brooke said, finally breaking the silence.
"Of course," Jon said. "We weren't going to let anything happen to ya’ll." In his mind, Jon knew he was mostly talking about Brooke. Not that he didn't care about the others—he absolutely did. But he couldn't let anything happen to Brooke or her son. "Now, we just have to figure out where we're going."
"That's easy," Raylon said. "Back to Freedom Ridge."
Jon narrowed his eyes. "What? No fucking way."
"Why?" Brooke asked. "What's the matter with going back to Freedom Ridge?"
"Lennox locked me up and was ready to turn me over to Malcolm."
"Until I came and got you," Raylon said.
"What?" Brooke asked, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that?”
“He was doing what he thought was best for Freedom Ridge,” Raylon said.
"Believe me, I'm not forgetting what you did," Jon said to Raylon. "Just like I'm not forgetting that your cousin held me against my will and was ready to hand me over to that psychopath."
"You trusted me to get you out, and now you've got to trust me with this," Raylon said. "Lennox is my cousin. He'll listen to me. I can tell him about what happened tonight and convince him to take down Malcolm once and for all."
Jon put his hands on his waist. "Who's saying he won't try to take me captive again so he can turn me over to Malcolm? He might be even more nervous about Malcolm now. He might be desperate."
"What other choice do we have if we don't go back there?" Brooke asked.
Both she and Raylon looked at Jon.
Jon hadn't thought that far ahead. There were many places in the area where they could hide and regroup, but it was only a matter of time before they'd have to return to Freedom Ridge. The final fight between Black Hill and Freedom Ridge was inevitable now. There was no way Malcolm would let the events of earlier go unpunished. By the time all this was over, only one of the two camps would be left standing. And Jon knew he needed to do his part in making sure it would be Freedom Ridge, rather than Malcolm and his violent crew of outcasts.
Jon exhaled, looking down at the ground and shaking his head. "Alright. I just hope you're right in thinking you can convince Lennox of what's right."
"I can," Raylon said. "It's the only chance we've got of finishing this fight once and for all. He'll have to see that."
Jon wanted to believe Raylon, but he had his doubts.
3
The sun had risen as they made the drive to Freedom Ridge, and its light made it easier to see the faces of everyone inside the van. They could barely hold their heads up, exhaustion taking hold with the adrenaline from the escape worn off. Jon noticed the kids all shaking, likely from fear. Even Adrian, one of the adults, had a tremble in her hands. Everyone looked tired, and they looked scared. Their faces reminded Jon of how evil Malcolm was. How could he have done what he'd done to these innocent women and children? The man was a monster, and he'd have to be taken down—with or without the help of Freedom Ridge.
But Jon knew the task would be easier with the help of Freedom Ridge. They had to get Lennox on board, for his sake and for the benefit of the survivors of Hope's Dawn.
"We're coming up on the camp," Raylon said.
Jon glanced between the seats and saw the familiar dirt path that led back to Freedom Ridge. Raylon turned down the road, and the ride became bumpy. The van hadn't been built to travel this sort of terrain, so everyone sitting in the back bounced, finding something to hold on to so they didn't topple over.
While Jon didn't express it out loud, he remained unsure about coming back to Freedom Ridge. He knew he'd have to suck in his pride when he came face to face with Lennox again. He wanted to tackle the man to the ground and beat him senseless, but knew that wouldn't do anyone any good. Even though Jon believed Lennox had been wrong in holding him captive, he understood why the man had done it. Lennox had thought he'd been doing what was best to protect the people in his community. Most of all, he'd been looking out for his daughter. Jon could relate to that perhaps more than anyone else could. He could also recognize that and put aside his own personal feelings in order to do what was best for everyone.
The van emerged from the trees, and the front gates of Freedom Ridge came into view. The early morning had brought with it a light fog which was visible once they got out of the trees.
On the other side of the gate, an armed guard sat in a chair. His eyes grew wide as he saw the van coming, and he stood and hustled away from the gate and into the camp.
"Shit, this isn't good," Jon said.
"It's okay," Raylon said, shifting the van into Park. "That's just Carlos. I'm sure Lennox told him to come get him once we showed back up. Everyone, just stay cool."
They all remained in the van for several moments. Jon then saw a group approaching the gate from inside the camp. From what he could tell, they were all armed.
Raylon opened the driver's side door, glancing back at Jon. "Let me do the talking."
Jon nodded. He knew it was going to be difficult to keep his mouth shut, but he'd do so for as long as possible. He slid the side door open and climbed out of the van.
Brooke exited, too, while everyone else stayed inside. The three of them stood a few feet in front of the van as they watched Lennox and the others approach the gate. A guard pushed it open, and they stepped outside the confines of camp.
Lennox held a shotgun in his hands. Behind him, half-a-dozen armed people stood backing him up. Their firearms ranged from pistols to fully automatic assault rifles.
Raylon cracked a smile and laughed. "Damn, Cuz. You not see that it was just us?"
"I knew who it was," Lennox said. "We've been waiting on you."
"With guns?"
"Don't fucking play, Raylon." Lennox took a couple of steps forward, raisi
ng his voice. "How the hell did you think this was going to go down?"
"I couldn't let Malcolm kill these innocent people, and you weren't willing to do anything about it."
"I knew what I was doing," Lennox said. "You tricked Monica, knocked out Jimmy, and went against my authority. I had a plan, dammit."
"And what was that?" Jon asked. "To turn me over to that asshole and expect everything to be peachy after that?"
"Jon, stop," Raylon said. "Let me handle this."
"You don't know a goddamn thing about what you've gotten us into," Lennox said to Jon.
Jon felt the anger boil up inside of him as he thought of his conversation with Malcolm. How the man had revealed to him that it had been he, not Judah, who'd killed Carrie and Spencer. He glared at Lennox.
"Don't lecture me about what I know and don't know. You don't have a fucking clue about all that I've been through."
"And I don't give a shit." Lennox pumped the shotgun, but kept it aimed away from Jon.
"Oh, you're going to fucking shoot me now?"
Lennox pursed his lips, his face tightening. "Try me."
"That would take a hell of a lot more balls than just passing me over to some lunatic to do the job!"
"Enough!" Raylon said, stepping in between the two men. "No one is shooting anyone."
"We're not here to start trouble," Brooke said, finally breaking her silence. "We all need to work together so we can stop Malcolm."
Dead South | Book 4 | Dead Love Page 1
