Dying Days 4
Page 17
Now he was on the move, taking a step back and to his left as he fired, two shots for every step. Darlene couldn't see the mob but she could hear running away and no return fire now.
Jeff walked past Darlene with a grin and pulled two guns from Doug's lifeless body. He was watching Darlene as he moved, finding two knives and ammo clips. "I hit the jackpot with this guy. Thanks for killing him, by the way. It saved me from wasting a bullet on his sorry ass."
"I didn't do it for you. I owed him from a long time ago. But I need you to do me a favor… shoot him in the head," Darlene said.
"Why?"
"Because I want to know he's finally dead."
Jeff snickered. "He is. Dead as a door nail. Isn't that the expression?" Jeff kicked Doug's lifeless body. "See? He's gone."
"He'll come back as a zombie."
"Good. Then I'll shoot him in the head and kill him again," Jeff said.
"No, you don't understand…"
"No, you don't understand the situation." Jeff leaned down and smiled at Darlene, tapping her temple lightly with his pistol. "I'm making the rules. If you want to stay and die, you're welcome to."
"I want to stay."
"I'm sure you do," Jeff said. He grabbed Darlene by her hair and forced her to her feet, smacking her across the face and stunning her. "I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and put a gun to your ass. If you try something stupid, I'm going to shoot you."
Darlene looked at John, who was still breathing but no longer conscious.
"No. Please leave me. I need to find my baby. It can't end this way," Darlene said.
"This is far from the end, honey. I'm bringing you to see my boss. The Lich King will be very happy to meet you, even without your brat."
Darlene began crying as Jeff tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, and she lost sight of John.
Epilogue
Taylor lifted Ms. Kinsler's head up and fed her the warm soup, smiling as the old woman slurped it off the tablespoon.
She wished she had more food to feed all these people. Taylor wiped the sweat from her brow and went back into the kitchen to refill the bowl with more soup.
When she saw the back door open, she stopped and slowly reached around to pull her pistol from the back of her waistband. It was dark outside, the opening like a pitch black gaping hole.
She was shaking.
Someone in the living room groaned softly in their sleep.
As Taylor went to the door, she paused. The outside world was holding its breath: no crickets or bugs made a sound. She hadn't heard the door open and she knew she'd definitely locked it.
Taylor was tired. She'd been going nonstop since Bri and Russ left with the zombie, and she needed sleep. But these people needed constant attention: food, water, bedpans, rolling over for those who couldn't move… it was overwhelming.
The soup on the makeshift burner was bubbling. Taylor shut the door as quietly as she could and made sure it was locked. Then she went to the stove and blew out the flame, taking the pot and moving it so it would cool down before she could serve another group of people.
When Taylor turned to get more bowls, she gasped. The back door was wide open again.
She turned with the pistol in her hand and the candle on the counter blew out, despite their being no wind. Before she could move, she felt something sharp touching her throat and a hand on her back.
"Don't do anything stupid. I am not the enemy," a man whispered.
Taylor moved her arm to aim the gun but a steely grip on her shoulder paralyzed her. He was obviously bigger and stronger.
"Last chance to relax or I'll rip your throat out."
Taylor had to relax, knowing there were a hundred people in the house relying on her. If she died right now, they would also die. Or worse. "You have my attention," she said, trying to sound confident.
"I'm going to turn you around slowly. You will not scream and upset all these poor people. Do as I say and I will not hurt you."
Taylor had no choice but to comply, letting go of the gun and handing it over. When she was spun around, the first thing she noticed in the dark was the glowing red eyes.
"Do not be frightened."
"Lich Lord…"
"Yes. Are you surprised?"
"Yes," Taylor admitted. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She hadn't run far enough away from the monster. Everything she's done for these people was about to be erased by this demon.
"I said I would not harm you, and I will not. Nor will I harm those in your charge. In fact, I come here offering hope," The Lich Lord said.
"Can we light the candle?" Taylor asked, unnerved to be talking to a pair of red eyes.
"No," he said quickly. "I do not like the light. I can see better in the dark. Moonlight is my natural light now. I'm sure you understand."
Taylor had nothing to say. Was he playing with her? Would he rip her apart any second?
"At first light, I want you to gather all the meager supplies you have and prepare your charges for travel," The Lich Lord said.
"None of them can travel. The zombie broke all their legs."
The Lich Lord laughed, a scary sound to Taylor. "I will send a convoy of men with trucks at first light. I want all of these people gathered. We are going to take them to safety. There are too many zombies in the area and they'll find you eventually. You won't be able to protect all of them. I can. And I will."
"Why?"
"What good is it going to be as Lord of this world if there's no one to rule? I'm building my army… and building my food source."
Taylor shuddered.
Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida, where he writes when he's not watching the Boston Red Sox and listening to Heavy Metal music... and because of him they won the 2013 World Series, so he's pretty good at watching!
He's written over 100 stories that are currently available, including a few different series.
He also loves to talk in third person... because he's really that cool.
You can find him at http://armandrosamilia.com for not only his latest releases but interviews and guest posts with other authors he likes!
And e-mail him to talk about zombies, baseball and Metal:
armandrosamilia@gmail.com