The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde

by Spears, R. J.

  The Deadland Chronicles 2

  The Undead Horde

  A Books of the Dead Novel

  By R.J. Spears

  Other Books by R.J. Spears

  Books of the Dead

  Sanctuary from the Dead

  Lord of the Dead

  Dead Man’s Land

  Into the Deadlands

  The Living and the Dead

  Dead Run

  Dead End

  Forget the Zombies

  Forget the Alamo

  Forget Texas

  Forget America

  Author’s Note: This book is a part of the Books of the Dead series and takes place just after Book 7 in that series. For the most part, you can read this book without reading the Books of the Dead series, but there are some references to the events that occur in the Books of the Dead along with some character background in that series.

  Chapter 1

  Returning to the Manor

  They’d like to say it’s not like they were running from thousands of zombies, but that’s what they were doing. What they had seen and how they had barely escaped still resonated within everybody inside the truck. It would be nearly impossible for any of them to forget the overwhelming horde they had just seen pouring down the hill from the farmhouse like deadly flood waters. It was something they would never, ever forget.

  The truck burst from the tree line, skidding along in the grass. Del had the gas pedal to the floor, bouncing everyone inside around like jumping beans. The geriatric Benton sisters let out little yelps of alarm with each bump.

  Any relief the passengers felt from getting away from the zombie horde at the farmhouse was long gone. Any joy at just being alive disappeared like letting the air out of a balloon. Getting away was only a momentary escape unless they just kept running. The problem with that was they had just over a half tank of gas, and that wouldn’t take them very far.

  They had no idea how far the undead horde would go. Maybe they would march all the way to the ocean, picking up more and more zombies, growing bigger in numbers and size every day.

  What then? Maybe when the zombies hit the Atlantic, they would just turn around and come back. In the backs of the minds of all the passengers in the truck hung the question of whether there was safety anywhere. No one spoke it aloud, but it was there.

  Jo reached across the passenger seat and gently placed a hand on Del’s arm. “You can slow down now. We’re here.”

  It took Del five more seconds to loosen his grip on the steering wheel and to let up on the accelerator. He slowed the truck as he turned into a long arc around the Manor’s complex, the tires leaving long grooves in the wet grass.

  Jo and Del had been through some harrowing events in the past few weeks, starting with a rebellion against soldiers that held them captive at the Manor and then a failed mission to sabotage the soldier’s helicopters. Jo was thirty-nine years old but felt at least ten years older than that. Her kinky auburn hair blew in the wind coming through the window, and her face bore the obvious signs of fatigue.

  Del had an open face that no one would call striking, but neither was he homely. From one angle, he might be called plain, but from another, he would be considered handsome. Anyone examining him closely now would just say he looked exhausted.

  Del had come to the Manor with his young son, Jim, and thought they had finally found a safe haven from the horrors of the apocalypse. Too bad that didn’t last, as dual threats from a mad but evil genius and an occupying force of soldiers put an end to any tranquility. Nothing had come easy in the past few weeks, and they had lost friends along the way.

  There was no activity on the front side of the complex, and the place looked almost peaceful. There were no after-effects of the showdown between Jo, Donovan, and their crew versus the soldiers. It looked like the soldiers had even removed Private Kepler’s body. He had been killed by one of his own after a tense standoff that had included Del, Jo, Donovan, and Mason.

  The only real sign of any past altercations was the burned out husk of the main building. An earlier assault by the evil genius, who had learned to control zombies, nearly took out all the people, but they had fought back and prevailed. Again, at no small cost. For Jo and Del, the bodies seemed to pile up, but it wasn’t something talked about. Survival demanded that they only focus on the here and now.

  Del ignored the damage and drove around the side of the building and toward the loading dock at the back of the complex. He knew Donovan and his people were using the dock as a staging area.

  Donovan was the leader of a group of preppers, who had been happily riding out the apocalypse in a self-sustaining underground compound they had built in case the shit hit the fan and the world tipped off its axis. They had thought it would be a nuclear attack, an economic upheaval, or some other more plausible calamity that would have taken the world down. A zombie apocalypse wasn’t really on their radar, but whatever it might be, they were prepared for it.

  Their few friends and family called them paranoid and crazy, but when the end came, they were ready.

  The only thing they weren’t ready for was a direct attack by military helicopters. Soldiers, who had taken over the Manor by force, discovered Donovan’s compound and decided to do something about it. In a vicious attack, some of Donovan’s people were taken to work as slaves in the fields at the Manor. A large contingent of them was able to escape and was somewhere in the east.

  Donovan and Mason, with Del and Jo’s help, rescued the ones at the Manor after the soldiers had bugged out, leaving Donovan’s people locked in rooms in the basement, presumably to die. It wasn’t a pretty picture, but they were free from the basement. Still, they were far from being out of harm's way.

  While Del and Jo had been gone, rescuing Clayton and the Benton sisters at the farmhouse, Donovan and his crew retrieved the green John Deere tractor and the equipment trailer from the maintenance shed just off the back of the complex. They had also collected the Jeep Jo and Del had taken in an ill-fated encounter with some of the soldiers out on patrol.

  “That’s not a great assortment of vehicles,” Del said.

  “No, it’s not,” Jo said, “but it looks like they found the ATVs, too.”

  Three two-seater ATVs sat just off the back side of the tractor. Mason sat on one of them, pointing this way and that, directing people carrying what meager supplies they could find inside the Manor out to the vehicles. The equipment trailer was looking more and more crowded, increasing Jo’s apprehension about how they were going to move all these people.

  Madison stuck her head through the portal window between the second row of seats and the back bed of the dual cab pickup truck. “At least the soldiers didn’t take everything.” Being the youngest members of their party, she and Ryan had been relegated to riding in the bed of the truck with Clayton. Being chivalrous, Clayton gave up his spot inside for the Benton sisters.

  Donovan stood at the edge of the conglomeration of vehicles, gesticulating with his arms and shouting orders. A few of the people milled around the trailer hooked up to the back of the tractor. From their body language, it was easy to tell that none of them were eager to climb onto it. It was just a flat, long metal table with wheels and short metal sides. At best, it could hold ten people, and that would leave them packed in like sardines.

  Del eased the truck in among the vehicles, and Donovan took immediate notice of their arrival and left the people to their own devices. In ten long strides, he was beside the truck door looking in at Del, Jo, and the others.

  “What took you so long?” he asked. Then he looked into the backseat at the Benton Sisters and asked, “An
d how are you, ladies?”

  From the back seat, Clara and Gertie gave Donovan weak waves. The elderly sisters had been living at the farmhouse before the oncoming horde forced them to evacuate.

  To be polite, Donovan waved back.

  He ran a hand through his hair then asked, “How long do we have before the zombie horde gets here?”

  “An hour or two, at most,” Jo said.

  Donovan leaned in the window and said in a quiet voice, “I’m not sure we have enough room for everyone.”

  “There has to be,” Del said, “or we make room. Those zombies are not going to wait.”

  Donovan’s face, which had already been creased with worry, turned even more sullen.

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the--” he started to say but stopped as something past the occupants of the truck caught his attention, and he locked in on whatever it was.

  When Jo turned to look out the side window, she quickly saw a half-dozen zombies breaking from the tree line about seventy-five feet away. In their typical fashion, they noticed the humans at the back of the building and started toward them, wanting to get to the dinner table as fast as their shambling feet could take them.

  “I thought you said we had an hour or two?” Donovan asked.

  Del said, “It’s probably just ones from the area drawn in by all the commotion. There was shooting here last night.”

  “Yes, there was,” Donovan said, feeling the fatigue weighing down on him like a heavy iron blanket. He didn’t know when the last time he had slept. “Should we shoot them, or do you think that will draw the attention of the horde?”

  “Probably best not to,” Jo said. “Besides, we probably need to conserve ammunition.”

  “That’s a thought,” Donovan said, wondering just how many more things he would have to worry about. They had a few boxes of food and water for their entire group. It wasn’t going to last, no matter how much they rationed it.

  “Do you want us to take them out while you finish loading up?” Del asked.

  Donovan let out a long sigh and said, “Yeah. That would be great.”

  With that, Del and Jo exited the truck. Clayton, Ryan, and Madison got out, too, leaving the Benton sisters safe and sound in the back seat, peering out the window with wide eyes, making Jo think of a pair of owls.

  “Spread out a little,” Jo said as they tramped through the dewy wet grass toward the shambling undead. “We don’t want to be knocking each other upside the head.”

  “Motion seconded,” Del said as he took two side-steps, getting some space between himself and Clayton.

  “How are we doing this?” Clayton asked.

  Del said, “The old fashion way. We bash and generally knock the shit out of their brains. Anything that takes them out of commission.” He hefted a long metal pipe as if getting a feel for it.

  “That works for me,” Clayton said. The only thing he had was his rifle, but he had used the butt end to take any number of zombies in the past, so he knew what he was doing. He turned toward Ryan and Madison and asked, “Is the girl ready for this?”

  Madison looked over at Clayton with one eyebrow raised high and said, “I can handle myself.” She held a rusty tire iron, swishing it back and forth.

  Clayton shrugged and said, “Whatever. You good to go, Ryan?”

  Ryan looked less than comfortable, trying to find a way to grip his rifle to make it a bludgeoning tool.

  Clayton caught this and knew that the boy had limited experience with taking on zombies hand-to-hand. “Watch me first. Then follow my lead. Okay?”

  Ryan just nodded his head, and he lagged back, walking a few steps behind Clayton.

  Jo was quiet, and her expression was blank as if someone had emptied out what was most essential about her. It was that, or this had just gone on too long. Everyone had their limits, but it didn’t stop her from pressing on.

  She only had her rifle. It was going to be enough.

  The zombies didn’t care what they carried or how they were armed or even what they were wearing. They just cared that they had flesh.

  Del sped up his pace just a little, getting a lead on the rest of the group. The first zombie decided he wanted a piece of Del and put out his arms. If someone was looking from far away, it might seem as if the two of them might embrace. That same onlooker would get quite a shock as they watched Del draw back his metal pipe and then swing it forward with lethal force, smashing it down on the zombie’s head. They probably wouldn’t be close enough to hear the crunching noise as the zombie’s skull collapsed and the thing fell to the grass.

  When zombies wandered into the vicinity of the farmhouse, it was Clayton’s job to take care of them. They weren’t common, but he had gotten it down. His method was to use the butt end of his rifle on their faces. And that’s what he did to the female zombie bearing down on him. She wasn’t much of a challenge, but his rifle butt slammed into her face just the same, practically demolishing it.

  Jo had a different method with her rifle. She actually poked the barrel of her rifle into the zombie coming at her. The force of her blow knocked the zombie’s head back, causing it to tumble sideways. With it off-balance, she slashed her rifle across its legs, knocking it to the ground. From there, she went to work on its face with the butt of her gun. She might have hit it three too many times, but no one was criticizing her. She was in a hurry to make sure Madison didn’t get into any trouble.

  The zombie coming at Madison had a bad limp, causing it to wobble back and forth, reminding her of a child’s toy. That didn’t make it any less deadly.

  It put out a hand, reaching for her, but she whipped the tire iron across its wrist, and the impact brought on a nasty cracking noise. The zombie’s hand tilted at an unnatural angle, but that didn’t stop it. It just kept coming. Like they always did.

  Madison was ready for its next move when it started up with its other arm, and she brought the tire iron back across in a slashing motion that snapped the zombie’s arm. The action spun the zombie around, and it went to one knee, exposing the back of its head. Madison took full advantage of this vulnerability and smashed her tire iron down onto the back of the zombie’s head. And that was it.

  Three down, three to go. Together, their little zombie killing team took them down almost without breaking a sweat. It was almost getting too easy. At least, when they didn’t come at you in the thousands.

  Chapter 2

  Road Prep

  “Is there anything else inside?” Del asked.

  “We took what we could find,” Casey said. She was one of Donovan’s people they had rescued from the basement. She had cleaned herself up some after being locked in a dark basement room for hours with a possibility she and her friends would die there. She looked less afraid, but there was still a haunted look in her eyes.

  Jo said, “We might know where some more supplies are inside.”

  That’s when Donovan walked beside Casey. “I thought you said the clock was running down?”

  “We probably have enough time,” Jo said.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to see it run out on us,” Del said. “The party coming our way is messy, and they’ll look at us as an all you can eat buffet.”

  Jo replied, “I think it will be worth our while. You coming with me or not?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess,” Del said.

  Before he was done talking, Jo was walking toward the dock. Del teetered back and forth for a couple of moments, caught in indecision, then he said, “Ah, shit.” He started after her.

  “Don’t take too long. We’ve got to get these people out of here,” Donovan shouted after them. Then he added, “You’ve gotten minutes then we’re leaving.”

  Jo took the concrete steps up onto the dock and headed toward the door that led into the complex. Del caught up to her as she opened the back door.

  “You know they probably already got what was left,” Del said.

  “Yes, most likely.”

  “Then why are we wasting
time going inside?”

  “There’s something in there I want,” Jo said as she stepped inside.

  Against his better judgment, Del followed her inside.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  She stopped, turned around, and gave him a hard stare.

  “What?” Del asked, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

  “I trust Donovan and all, but they don’t need to know everything,” she said. “Some things, I want to keep to myself.”

  There was something in the set of her face that stopped him from asking any more ‘why’ questions. He did have one more, though. “Where are we going?”

  “To Aaron’s room,” she said then turned away from him and moved down a long corridor with him in tow.

  Five minutes later, they were on the second floor in one of the small apartment style rooms. In anyone’s estimation, the room was a mess. Fist-sized holes dotted the walls in several places. They weren’t small holes either. Aaron had been crazy with grief after Brandon had died.

  Papers and other debris lay strewn across the floor, and a dresser was overturned with more clothes coughed out onto the floor. Hanging from a makeshift rack on the wall was a sword. This was just another painful reminder of both Brandon and Aaron’s deaths. Brandon had been a nut about weapons of all kinds. This sword had been his.

  Despite disarray, the memories flooded back. For a moment, she had to fight back tears.

  Del hadn’t known Brandon all that well, but he had spent a lot of time with Aaron. The memories were just as raw for him.

  Aaron and Brandon had shared this room. They were the Manor’s odd couple. People used to call them A and B because one always followed the other, but it was usually Aaron doing the following

  Aaron was big and burly with an introvert’s demeanor. Brandon was short and feisty, reminding everyone of a pit bull. Wherever one went, the other was likely to go, but Brandon was the clear leader of the two. His brand was outspoken and brash, rarely backing down from a fight, even if he was outnumbered or outgunned. And he knew a lot about weapons. If anyone at the Manor needed to know about a weapon or aircraft, Brandon was your go-to guy.