The Apocalypse Sacrifice: The Undead World (The Undead World Series Book 10)

by Peter Meredith

  Grey held out his hand and Neil dumped the remaining pills into his palm uncaring that three jumped off to land on the sidewalk. The word “Bayer” was obvious on one side and on the other was the word “Aspirin.” He groaned and handed them to Woods, telling Deanna, “It’s aspirin.”

  “Aspirin?” Wood asked, shocked. He poked through the pills. “There’s no way April gave her aspirin for schizophrenia. Jillybean must have switched them out at some point.” They walked for a while longer and then he asked, “Did you guys ever see that movie A Beautiful Mind? You know, about the math genius who goes nuts? Is she like that?”

  Always her staunchest defender, Neil started to shake his head, but Deanna poked him in the chest, asking, “Then explain Eve? Huh? Explain infanticide and kidnapping and assassination, and who knows what else she’s guilty of?”

  “I can’t. I just know she tries and she means well…most of the time. Like this time. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but in her mind this is for the greater good. She described this place perfectly. What if Bainbridge is everything she said it would be?”

  Deanna began to sputter, “Wh-what are you talking about? It could be in heaven’s backyard and it still wouldn’t excuse taking my baby.” She had her fist cocked back and Grey was certain that Neil was within one improper word of getting one across his chops.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Deanna’s clenched fists and barely restrained volcanic anger stifled any further conversation. They tromped the rest of the way to the sheriff’s house in silence, save for Grey’s frequent yawns, which were always followed, seconds later, by Neil’s.

  The four of them perked up considerably when they got to the sheriff’s house, where they were greeted by a dozen little girls and boys who had spied them coming up the block. Corina was picked out and introduced, however any chance at an interrogation was drowned out as the other children began a game of tag right in the midst of the adults.

  Soon they were joined by others and quickly the yard was filled with children going in every direction. The sight of them entranced Deanna. As though she were in a dream, she turned a slow circle, tears in her eyes. Grey guessed that she was picturing their Emily, perhaps older, wearing a sundress with pigtails in her hair held back with red ribbons.

  He didn’t want to pull her away from the spectacle. “Let’s get the note,” he said, nudging Neil. There was no saying where the note was in the town; Jillybean had not left a clue in her last note beyond the directions to Colton, however Grey suspected they would find the note here.

  It turned out to be the easiest note to find. Neil walked into Corina’s bedroom, stared for all of a second and then headed directly for the nightstand, where he found the diary. On the back page was written the word: Sprague. “What’s Sprague?” he asked.

  The sheriff took the diary from Neil and studied the word as if he were trying to decipher a foreign language. “Sprague? It’s a little, nothing town in Washington. Corina’s never been there before, and that’s not her handwriting. See?” The beginning part of the book was written in a child’s attempt at cursive, while the one word was in block letters.

  Maps were consulted and the town located; it was only a hundred and fifty miles away. When they told Deanna, she was all for leaving that second. She started pulling Grey and Neil to the street, saying, “They only have a four-hour head start! We can catch her and this can be over! Neil, think about it. This is the most dangerous part of the trip for Jillybean. She said it herself: Seattle is crawling with bad guys. If we get her before then, we might be able to save both of them.”

  Neil considered this, or at least seemed to be. His eyes were on the children running in circles. Eventually, he said, simply, “No,” and was quiet again for a time, once more watching the children. They seemed to have entranced him.

  Only when a woman—a soft woman, a housewife straight out of a fifties sitcom—came out of the house with a pitcher of Kool-Aid and the children ran for her did Neil go on, “We’re too exhausted. If we’re not careful, we will make mistakes and people will die. Not to mention, if we push our people too hard, we’re going to lose them.” Deanna’s eyes flared and her rebuttal was obvious. “Yes, I know, you don’t care about them right at this moment. I understand. But they care about you and Emily. They’ve come with us, knowing that it might be a wild goose chase. They came knowing how dangerous it could have been. Most of them came, figuring there would be a fight. You don’t throw away that sort of loyalty and you don’t piss on it, either. We need a rest.”

  Just as he had been throughout the entire chase, Grey felt as though he was standing at the midway point on a see-saw between the two. As he saw it, they were both wrong and they were both right. They needed proper sleep, badly and yet Emily was so close!

  They looked to him and he saw that they both looked like crap. Then again, Veronica and Kay and everyone else did as well. Grey was probably the worst. Every time he blinked, he could feel the red veins in his eyes as if they spelled out ‘sleep’ in braille.

  The group needed a rest; however the imperative of finding his daughter surmounted bodily needs. “We’ll compromise,” he said, holding up a hand to each of them. “We’ll take a four-hour break. I know it won’t be enough, but we can take turns sleeping in the trucks.” When they both started to argue, he went on as if he couldn’t hear them. “Neil, tell the others. Make them see that we’re on the home stretch. Deanna, I want you to talk to the sheriff and his wife. See what help they can provide. We’re really scraping on fuel.”

  They didn’t ask what he would be doing. He went to the truck, climbed into the back and crashed out, sleeping soundly until Deanna woke him four and a half hours later. Groggily, he stared at her for a few seconds before she came into focus.

  “They don’t have gas to spare,” she said, and then yawned so widely that he thought the corner of her mouth would split. “I feel like hammered shit. Move over. I gotta get some sleep.”

  “Were you up this entire time?”

  A guilty look swept her before she could hide it. She shrugged and it was Neil who explained, “She was playing with the children.” He laughed suddenly. “You should have seen her running around with them. It was hilarious. And, by the way, we won’t need to worry about gas, Jillybean will set us up. Trust me, she’s got this all calculated. She knew what sort of vehicles we were going to use and how much gas we had and I’m willing to bet she even factored in how those kids affected you, Deanna.”

  “I wish she was that smart,” Deanna said, her voice growing slurry as she began to drift off.

  “How on earth can you doubt her smarts?” Neil asked.

  “Because of what happened to Sadie.”

  The answer came quiet and sharp, like a knife in the night. It shut Neil up and almost shut him down as well. Grey could see the depression setting in. “Neil, I need you to get the others in line and ready to go.” The group had broken out their tents for the first time on the trip and they were slow to get them stowed away.

  While they were working, a delegation from the town, led by a priest and the same comely young woman Grey had seen at the sheriff’s house, came bearing a parting gift. They didn’t have fuel, but they had food. Each person was given a wrapped parcel and a quick blessing by the priest. If there were atheists among them, they kept their lips sealed except to thank the priest and the people of the town.

  There was a smattering of dishes: chicken, beef, mutton, corn, cherries and bread. It was all very good and very filling. Both Grey and Neil ate one-handed as they steered their respective vehicles and both came close to crashing and both laughed at their near misses.

  “This lunch is only missing a cold beer,” Grey said. “This treated river water might be cold, but that iodine flavor is horrible.”

  “I’ve had iodine flavored Kool-Aid,” Neil remarked, licking his fingers one at a time. “It’s not bad.”

  Grey didn’t see how that could be true. He was pondering the i
dea when he noticed his eyes growing heavier. His full belly, coupled with his lack of sleep had him fighting to stay awake once again. Neil had the same slow expression on his face that Grey did, while in the back, Deanna was snoring.

  It was a slog to keep going as the sun set when his body’s rhythms began to demand more sleep. Thankfully, it wasn’t much later that Neil sat up straight and warned, “There’s something in the road ahead. It looks like more trees.” At first, Grey cursed, but as they pulled up, he saw that it was just one not so thick tree. It would get him out of the truck and moving, just what he needed to wake up.

  As Neil set guards, Grey and a team of four others went to work clearing the obstacle.

  “Hey, look at that,” Veronica said, pointing to something near the tree’s stump. “It’s another baby bottle and there’s a note!” Ignoring Neil’s outstretched hand, she unscrewed the top and read: “Mister Neil, be cairful, there are zombees. That’s it, except there’s a stick figure zombie.”

  Neil snapped his fingers, impatiently. He glanced at the note and, looking relieved, said, “It’s about time. This isn’t a warning, this is a map. See the two lines? This one is this road we’re on, and the one the zombie is on is probably just ahead.”

  “A map to what?” Veronica asked.

  “Fuel,” was his answer. “That road will lead to a mine where we’re going to find fuel. The picture of the zombie is Jillybean’s way of guarding a valuable stash in case someone came along before we did.” He wasn’t wrong. The road was cleared quickly and a quarter mile further on they found a dirt trail that led away to the north.

  Neil sent a drone ahead to make sure the place wasn’t crawling with zombies and when the feed showed the way clear, and the twin fuel tanks, the mood in the group went from groggy to happy. Even Deanna couldn’t find anything bad to say.

  In no time, they refueled, hitched up the two portable tanks and were gone again into the night.

  Their next surprise left by Jillybean was much grimmer. In a strip of woods just before the little town of Helmer, they discovered a number of corpses strewn all over the dirt road with the casual indifference of a child and his toys. With all the blood and the scattered limbs and ribbons of flesh hanging in the trees, it was hard to tell how many people had died there.

  Deanna gave a strangled cry, grabbed a flashlight and ran out into the midst of the carnage, shooting the light all around. “Is she here? Is she? Do you see her?”

  She was looking for Emily.

  “No,” Grey said, hurrying to her side. “She’s not here. Even if she had been hurt or…or whatever, she wouldn’t be here. Jillybean would never leave her out like that. Besides this wasn’t an ambush, at least not one set by these guys.” His keen military eye saw that it had been Jillybean who had set this ambush. She hadn’t been the one surprised. “Remember she told us about the pit that some guys were going to push her car into? That’s it right there.”

  He pointed his flashlight further ahead where the road disappeared into a rectangle of utter blackness.

  “How did she…?” Deanna started to ask, but then her light paused over one of the trees. At about chest height the bark of the tree had been blasted away leaving a scorched crater in the wood. And there were more trees with the same damage circling the ambush site. The little girl had been particularly, and horribly, thorough.

  “I bet she’s proud of herself,” Deanna said, vehemently, her face screwed up in disgust. “This…this is inhuman. This is even worse than a cat who brings a mouse to its owner. At least that’s instinctual. This is just evil.”

  Neil bristled. “I find it instinctual to protect one’s family. And besides, they were bandits, they had it coming. We should be thanking Jillybean. If it hadn’t been for her, we would have wandered right into this trap. Even with the drone; from above you can’t tell what that is.” He gestured to the pit.

  “Say what you want, Neil, but the fact is, she brought my child into a combat zone.”

  “The whole world is a combat zone!” he cried. His voice carried and from deeper into the woods there was a moaning response and the crash of something big hurling itself through the underbrush.

  Grey wanted to bark at the two of them, but there wasn’t time. “Mount up!” he bellowed. There was no sense being quiet now. He picked up the CB microphone and started giving orders. “Back up! Move back to the main road.” Setting the mic back in its cradle, he glared into the back seat at Neil.

  “I’m sorry,” Neil said. “This is my fault. I know part of it is that I’m tired and I know that’s no excuse, Deanna to argue every little…” He stopped in midsentence, his eyes going wide.

  There was no need to guess at what he was seeing. Grey turned, reaching for the Desert Eagle .44 caliber magnum that he kept stuffed down between his seat and the console. “Christ!” he exclaimed, his hand freezing on the handle as out of the dark came a zombie of epic proportions. Normally the height of the truck meant relative safety from the beasts, but this one could look down on Grey.

  Deanna screamed a useless warning as the beast rushed at the truck and struck it full on with the strength of a charging bull. Grey’s door was dented in as his side of the truck lifted a foot off the ground before thudding back down. Grey hadn’t practiced pulling the gun, quick draw style, and it showed. He was a big man with a big gun in a relatively cramped position.

  The gun didn’t come up in a smooth manner. Its long barrel banged against the steering wheel just as the zombie punched through the window, spraying Grey with glass. He might have cursed a second time but he didn’t know for certain. There was too much going on for him to pick out any one word. Neil and Deanna were both screaming and the monster was roaring as it reached in and grabbed Grey’s camouflaged shirt by the collar.

  Before he knew it, he was turned sideways and half out of the truck. His left hand found the steering wheel and held on for dear life as Deanna threw herself on his legs; he could feel her fingernails digging in through his pants. Despite her efforts, she was in a tug of war that she couldn’t win. The creature was too strong, too massive, and in no time, Grey felt his grip beginning to slip.

  Chapter 46

  Captain Grey

  The smell of the zombie, a combination of ancient decay and fresh shit, was so overpowering that Grey felt his stomach lurch and his muscles weakening. It was a horrible sensation when he knew that if his left hand lost its grip he would be dead in the next ten seconds.

  With one chance left, he twisted so that he was facing up at the night sky and brought the .44 caliber Eagle around so that he was aiming upside down. It was a position ill-suited for a marksman and yet at a distance of three feet, it was hard to miss unless, of course, one was being violently yanked back and forth. Grey’s first shot tore through the zombie’s throat blasting out a fist-sized hole. His next shot was even further off the mark, punching through its chest just above the right nipple.

  With the gun upside down, its recoil was the opposite of what he was used to and when he fired again, he aimed just above the beast’s head. This time, he was spot on. The huge slug drilled straight through its forehead and for just a blink, Grey thought he saw a star through the gaping hole. Then the zombie toppled backwards and Grey was dropped.

  “Son of a…Neil! Help me, I’m stuck.” He was half out of the car, with the window grinding into his back and Deanna clutching his legs.

  As fast as he could, Neil got out of the truck and tried to push Grey back into the driver’s seat. “Holy crap, you’re heavy,” he said in a stunned, hollow voice.

  The angle of Grey’s body was wrong and he didn’t think he could be pushed back in. “No, pull me out. The wheel or something is in the way of…” Neil had pulled him just then but couldn’t bear Grey’s weight and they both collapsed in a jumble. “That was close,” Grey said, grimacing from a crick in his back as he got to his feet. “That was too fricking close.”

  Neil stood, his eyes never leaving the corpse of the giant
zombie. “Fricking?” he asked. “I think that was more than just ‘fricking’ close.”

  “He’s a father, now, Neil,” Deanna said, leaning through the shattered window. “He can’t curse like he used to. What kind of example would that…shit! Grey, you’re bleeding. Right there on your neck!”

  He reached a hand back and felt the blood. “Shit,” he whispered, feeling a dread certainty that it had been the zombie who had scratched him with its diseased claws. If it had…well, that would be it for him. It was a death sentence.

  Neil jumped into the truck and was back again while Grey was still staring at his bloody fingers. “This is going to sting,” he said and began to clean out the scratches—there were three of them and by the way Neil whispered, “Jesus,” there was no doubt that they were from the zombie.

  Whatever Neil was doing didn’t sting and Grey wondered if that was a bad sign. “You’re going to be fine, Grey. Remember my old friend, Ram? He’d been scratched but he cleaned them out in time. This is just like that. The scratches aren’t even deep.”

  “And if it isn’t like that?” Grey asked, though he knew the answer just as they all did.

  “It will be like that,” Deanna insisted, her voice shrill. “Now, get in the truck. This has worked before and not just with Neil’s friend. We-we caught it early, okay? We caught it early.” The fear in her voice and her wide, wet eyes struck a chord in Grey.

  She needed him to live, only the odds weren’t good. They weren’t even close to good. There had been a man who had passed through Estes named David Blaise. He had lived through a bite from a zombie by cleaning the wound out just as Neil had. David kept a running score of the number of people he had heard about who had lived through the smallest scratch versus the number of people who had tried and died, regardless. Including himself, the number was four out of twenty-three.