Dying Days 7

by Armand Rosamilia

  Mitch smiled and followed Tosha.

  She knew he was checking out her ass.

  “I’ll give you everything back when you cross over. You can find me on Main Street,” Tosha said. “I’m easy to find.”

  Chapter Ten

  Heights didn’t scare her anymore. Nothing scared her anymore because there was nothing above her on the food chain.

  Darlene stood on one leg and let the hot Florida breeze push her body back and forth. She was holding onto the radio antenna by two fingers, fighting the forces of nature trying to throw her to the ground and rip her body to pieces.

  As if it could happen.

  She knew she only had to think it and she could either control the wind in her immediate area or she could glide down to the ground like a feather.

  From her vantage point, she could see for miles. Even in the darkness everything was crystal clear to her: the wild vegetation, the crumbling buildings, the overgrown streets and the hint of fires long gone or smoldering back to life, unchecked.

  She couldn’t feel the presence of either zombies or the living, which was a good thing. She’d been helping The Lich Lord by ranging far and wide and letting people know The Promised Land was the place to go, even if they didn’t understand why these thoughts popped into their minds.

  Much easier than trying to explain if she was a zombie or human and there to kill them or send them into a trap. Too much work and she was scaring people away. She’d traveled throughout Florida, Georgia and as far west as Louisiana, subtly moving the few survivors in the direction of Daytona Beach. It had numbered in the low hundreds, which was discouraging.

  There weren’t too many people still alive at this point.

  What she did find were plenty of zombies, all slowly regenerating and gaining back their memories and their evil intents. Someday she would meet God and ask him what she already knew the answer to: why was there this dark chaos in every man and every woman? Evolving into a zombie and beyond had brought it out.

  Darlene sighed, lost in thoughts bigger than her. What did any of this matter? A few days ago she’d spotted a dead squirrel and stared at it, contemplating its short life and wondering if it was killed by a zombie or another predator. She looked for so long the maggots had grown as big as her fingernail and it had rotted away to almost nothing. Hours and hours she’d not moved.

  She knew she was losing her touch with reality. Time held no meaning for her anymore and she found it harder and harder to care about the survivors or anything else.

  Darlene knew where all of this was leading: eternal slumber.

  But first… she needed to find her son and either give him a hug or crush his windpipe.

  Then she felt like it would be time to rest. To reflect. To dream.

  Until then she kept searching for her son, who was hiding from her powers. She thought he was even more powerful now than she could ever be, and it made her both fearful and proud at the same time.

  Two weeks ago she’d caught a passing touch as he tried to look into her mind, which she’d thought she was impervious to having done to her. After all, she couldn’t read another zombie’s thoughts unless they allowed her to enter their headspace. She’d had a bond with The Lich Lord to kill Eve in Jacksonville, but she’d only allowed it temporarily.

  Her son, and she was sure it was the boy, had easily gone inside of her as if to prove to Darlene or maybe himself he could do it. She’d blocked him but now she had her guard up at all times.

  If he was a normal intelligent zombie, his range would only be two or three miles, but Darlene knew there was nothing normal about her son. His range could be ten times it. Hell, he could be anywhere in the world and maybe he could do it?

  Darlene knew she was in danger. Maybe her son had gotten too much of the blood of The Lich Lord in him when the zombie had mixed his blood with hers. Maybe the fact she knew John, the child’s father, was also special and would’ve survived a zombie bite as well… what were the chances both parents were immune?

  There were too many variables but she knew her son was super powerful and super angry towards her and she didn’t know why. She also wasn’t stupid enough to think she could walk up to him with a smile and her arms spread and see the boy only wanted his mommy and a hug.

  He wanted to kill her, of that Darlene was sure.

  Maybe it had been a good thing Bri and her zombie boyfriend had stolen the baby when he was born. Who knows what he would’ve been capable of right from her womb.

  Darlene pushed out positive, pleasant thoughts into the world, aimed at John Junior. She was sure he’d feel them. Maybe it would make him see what he was doing was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t really the enemy. Maybe he really did just need a hug from her.

  She also hoped he would drop his guard when they met again and she could defeat him if need be. It would rip her apart to kill her own child, the only one she’d ever birth now that she was a zombie.

  Darlene let the breeze whip her back and forth on the antenna and cried; the sound lost in the wind.

  She’d get down soon. She had work to do. She needed to do another sweep of the area to make sure he wasn’t nearby. He could be watching her even now.

  It’s not paranoia if you’re really being watched, she thought and tried to trace back through her thoughts because she knew she’d had a similar thought in her mind at some point in her past. Everything was beginning to fall into the mix, into one small timeframe, as her mind began to expand and she realized the life she’d led previously might be a small drip in the bucket with the time she had left on this planet. She wasn’t aging. She didn’t need to sleep or eat or even breathe.

  Darlene was so deep in her self-pity she almost didn’t feel the presence of something very wrong and very close to where she stood.

  She wiped her eyes and scanned the area, fixating on a zombie nearly a mile away, traveling at speed and coming directly towards her.

  Only it wasn’t just a zombie with evil intent in the way it moved.

  Darlene knew something was wrong.

  Chapter Eleven

  April’s parents were giving her the cold shoulder when she arrived at the store. Her sister, Carlie, tried to hide her grin but failed.

  “They’re worried about you. That’s all. Let them be pissed for a couple of days. They’ll get over it,” Carlie had said, as the girls unpacked boxes of clothing and tried to find room for the new merchandise.

  “I didn’t even see a zombie,” April said. “It was really boring.”

  Carlie stopped pulling clothes out of a box and tilted her head at her sister. “You want zombies to mess with you? You sound disappointed. That’s nuts.”

  April sighed. “I can’t fold clothes the rest of my life.”

  “Why not? It beats what’s going on outside. How quick you forgot what it was like with no food and water or zombies trying to bite you and worse.” Carlie shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”

  “I want to see some action,” April said.

  “Go find a boyfriend,” Carlie said and smiled, showing her teeth. “Or maybe you can find a girlfriend. Your new redheaded boss seems to like what she sees.”

  “Shut up.”

  The girls had always poked fun at one another, like any set of sisters. It went with the territory. April knew her family was worried about her and, when she’d gotten up early and found out Tosha didn’t need her today, she’d decided to go help the family instead of taking the day off and sleeping in, which Tosha said she could do.

  Tosha was excitement and danger all rolled into a tight redheaded package. April wasn’t into women but she had to admit Tosha stirred up something on an unconscious level the way she looked at her.

  “Look who’s back, April the zombie killer,” her dad said as he came out of the back room. He didn’t look too happy.

  “Hey, dad. I’m helping out today,” April said.

  “I figured you’d realized your mistake. How dangerous it is out there. How you’v
e earned the right to be safe because of everything we all went through. How worried sick me and your mother are about you, so you came back. I guess I was wrong,” he said.

  April didn’t say anything. She wanted to cry but she fought back the tears. It would only give him something else to rip her about. Her father was a great man. Very fair. But neither of her parents ever let April or Carlie make their own mistakes. They micromanaged the family’s lives.

  “Back off, Tom,” Mimzie said. She’d been on the other side of the store unpacking boxes of new sneakers, part of the huge find April had been a part of. She stared at her husband and clenched her jaw. He looked like he was going to argue or respond, briefly putting up a finger but then he turned and went back to the office.

  “Thanks, mom,” April said.

  “Don’t thank me. We’re worried about you. I wish you’d reconsider what you’re doing. I know you’re an adult now but… just please think about what you’re doing,” Mimzie said.

  “I am thinking about what I’m doing,” April said. She could feel her anger rising.

  “You look like your fat head is about to explode,” Carlie said with a grin.

  April wanted to punch her sister in the face but instead struggled to keep from laughing. They always knew when to bust chops and defuse a situation. Carlie was a master at it because she was so little compared to April, or anyone over the age of twelve.

  “I’m going to squeeze your head until it explodes,” April said and tossed a pair of jeans at Carlie.

  “Ouch. That hurt,” Carlie said as monotone as she could, trying not to smile.

  April saw her mother shake her head and go back to her side of the store.

  “We should go down to the Communal tonight to eat,” Carlie said.

  “Why?”

  Carlie smiled. “Check out the boys. Eat something besides mom’s bad cooking. Be social for once. I hear a band is playing, too. I’m sure once the old people go back to their houses the kids will have some fun.”

  “You go tell the parents,” April said.

  “No way. They’re already mad at you,” Carlie said.

  * * * * *

  The Communal was the fancy name for the nightly gathering of everyone. Long wooden tables had been erected in two long lines down Main Street. At both ends of the tables was a score of grills and smokers and storefronts had been modified for easy access to the ovens and refrigerators filling them.

  On average perhaps three hundred people would congregate each night for dinner, telling stories, enjoying good hot food and good company, or just relaxing after a hard day’s work.

  Everyone was supposed to take a turn either in the kitchens, at the grills or setting the tables, but, over time, certain people who enjoyed the jobs and were good at them had taken over.

  April had only been to the Communal once, when they’d first been reunited as a family. The food had been great but her parents weren’t very social and had retired to an early sleep because they opened the store so early.

  “Why haven’t we done this before?” April asked.

  “It’s too far of a walk.” Carlie said hi to everyone sitting around them with a big smile and a quick wave before digging into her food. She took a bite of her carrots. “Even better than mom makes.”

  “They’re not cold or overcooked,” April said with a laugh. Their mother knew she was a bad cook but luckily most nights the girls would make something quick in the microwave in the store while they worked.

  “We need to do this more often. At least once every few days,” Carlie said. “It’s worth the exercise on my little legs.”

  “That would be fun,” April said. She looked up at the clear sky. It had cooled down nicely today. It’s times like this you forget what’s going on outside the walls, she thought. April knew it was one of the reasons she’d decided to do something important and risk getting attacked. She wanted to make a difference. Someday, if she had her own kids, they’d live in a good world.

  “I’m worried about you,” Carlie said quietly, as they finished their dinner and wandered over to see what kinds of desserts they had to choose from.

  “I know you are,” April said and hugged her sister.

  They found a seat on a bench close to the east gate near the stage. It was where, some nights, The Lich Lord would address everyone.

  “Maybe after the concert we can go to the beach,” Carlie said, even though the girls knew they weren’t allowed. It was too dangerous at night. Even though the zombies washing onto the sand had slowed to a trickle, there was still the threat of survivors trying to do harm to anyone inside The Promised Land or packs of wild animals looking for something to eat.

  “Tomorrow we can go to the wall and look out. I haven’t done that in forever,” Carlie said.

  The older crowd had thinned out, cleaning up the tables and putting everything away as the kids and twentysomethings found a seat in front of the stage area.

  Everyone began cheering as a dark-haired beauty walked quietly onto the stage. She was pale and skinny, her features accentuated by dark lipstick and mascara with a powdery sheen to her skin. She wore a tight black dress that dropped to the stage and she held an electric violin.

  She looked nervous, eyes to the ground as she slowly lifted the instrument higher.

  The crowd grew quiet and the woman, standing still, closed her eyes. A lone white light shone down on the stage, just to her left, and left half of her form in darkness.

  A full minute passed before she positioned the violin and lifted the bow, her eyes still closed.

  April and Carlie looked at one another with a huge smile. The performer had once been a member of a hugely successful Darkwave band that had toured the world. They’d been fans of her band’s music.

  The woman’s eyes popped open suddenly and, as she began to play, a sly smile crossed her dark lips. The music, haunting and elegant, drew the crowd in.

  Carlie sang along as she played a few songs the young audience would know.

  April caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye and looked over at The Ocean Center. She gasped.

  The Lich Lord was standing on top of the building. The lights from the stage, now moving in unison with the beautiful music, passed over his form every now and then.

  April could see he was smiling, as he listened to the music, before walking off of the roof and gliding gently to the ground, heading in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mitch held his breath when he looked up and saw it was really a zombie. He looked like everyone else but Mitch could tell he was different. The gray eyes also gave him away, but only because he’d heard so many others talking about it being the only way to tell the difference.

  This was the ruler of The Promised Land. The Lich Lord.

  “You’re the one Tosha ran into?” The Lich Lord asked Mitch, sitting in a chair above the chain-link fencing.

  Mitch took a step back.

  The Lich Lord grinned. “You didn’t know I could talk?”

  “Uh…”

  The Lich Lord laughed but it wasn’t unpleasant. He seemed to be having fun as he shifted in his chair and leaned forward.

  “It still amazes me after all this time; people haven’t run into a smart zombie, one of my horrible brothers and sisters, until this moment. Months and months of running and you never saw a zombie with intelligence?” The Lich Lord asked.

  Mitch could only shake his head.

  “What skills can you offer?” The Lich Lord asked.

  “I was military. Trained as a sniper. I cleared a big area of zombies in Daytona Beach, near the mall. I’m also a prepper and I was a Boy Scout.”

  “Do you like romantic walks on the beach?”

  Mitch didn’t know what to say.

  “Relax. I’m having some fun. You’re talking like you’re giving me your resume or a boring profile on a dating site. Tell me about you… not what you can do,” The Lich Lord said.

  “I
like to read. Not much of a TV watcher. I exercise when possible.”

  “You have a thing for redheads?”

  Mitch smiled. “Who doesn’t?”

  “Tosha has become my most vital asset. I’ve had to go through some unpleasant replacements lately. Too many cooks in the kitchen, if you get my drift. I need more team players. The leaders are in place now. She is important,” The Lich Lord said.

  “Okay.” Mitch didn’t know what else he could say or where the conversation was headed so he waited for The Lich Lord to keep talking.

  The Lich Lord grinned. “From what I gather, she is quite a bit of fun between the sheets. Many men have been unable to keep up. Tosha has gone through quite a few, looking for someone who will interest her for more than a week. She’s taken a fancy to you, Mitch. I see why. You’re very pretty to look at. Just make sure you challenge her on an intellectual level. She’ll kill me if she finds out I told you that but it’s true. Tosha needs someone who can stand toe to toe with her; although, she doesn’t know it yet.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, you really don’t. What I’m saying is simple. If there is a disagreement between you and Tosha, no matter what has transpired, I will side with her because I need Tosha. A pretty boy who can shoot a rifle is a dime a dozen. I will rip you apart if you hurt her in any way. Now do you understand?”

  Mitch nodded his head and was relieved when The Lich Lord waved him through to the other gate.

  He realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled loudly on the other side.

  “Yeah, meeting that guy will do that to you,” a tall man with thinning dark hair said to Mitch.

  “He’s a bit intimidating,” Mitch said.

  The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Terence. Friends call me Terry. Welcome to The Promised Land. You play cards?”

  “Uh… yeah. I haven’t in a long time,” Mitch said and laughed. “I guess I haven’t done quite a few things in a long time.”