The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde

by Spears, R. J.

  The thought almost made him laugh out loud, and he wished he hadn’t volunteered to stay awake when the others had rested. Being punch-drunk from lack of sleep was no way to fight a war, and it was no way to reconnoiter an unknown enemy.

  Something moved about thirty-feet ahead just off to the right of his sightline. It was a subtle movement. Just a flash of motion between two trees. It was only visible for a second. What he saw was green.

  When he replayed it in his mind, the green gained definition. It wasn’t green. It was olive drab. To a soldier, olive drab meant a uniform.

  Of course, that didn’t mean that one of the road bandits didn’t wear a uniform or an army jacket. He had seen his share of soldiers gone bad after the world fell.

  Whatever or whoever it was, it was best to wait to see how it played out. He locked in on where he had seen it and waited. After a few seconds, the trees and foliage began to blend together, and his eyes started to sting from keeping a laser focus on that one spot. He blinked and whoever it was moved again, and this time, they stood in plain view. It was a profile view of the man. He was wearing a uniform and was carrying a military issue rifle.

  Clayton blinked hard again and couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing just thirty-five feet away was Private Berry. Julian Berry, a kid from the streets of Phillie, and he had been at the base in Dayton with Clayton. Now, he was looking more than a little bit nervous.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  “They’re on the move,” Mason whispered.

  Del looked over Mason’s shoulder and saw the two men they had been watching change their station from behind one tree to another a few feet away. One of the men was wearing a dark leather coat and jeans and had a bushy head of hair. The other one was shorter and broader. He was wearing a dark colored baseball cap. Del thought it was a Yankees cap, but he couldn’t be sure from that distance. Plus, the man was turned away from Mason and him.

  The two men had their attention focused on something deeper into the woods. Del thought it would be nice to know what that was, but that would mean changing their own position. That was risky. Better to stay put and see what happens. So, that’s what they did.

  “I still can’t tell what they’re looking at,” Mason said, leaning in close to Del’s ear.

  “Neither can I,” Del said.

  “We should move up and shift to the left,” Mason said.

  “Clayton expects us to be here,” Del said.

  “He can find us,” Mason said.

  “Okay,” Del said but wasn’t feeling it. Just as they started to move, a noise came from behind them, and Del felt a ripple of shock roll over his body. He whipped around and saw Clayton pacing towards them still looking like some kind of panther.

  “Where’d you learn to move like that?” Del asked as Clayton slid in between Del and Mason.

  “They teach you a lot in the service, but most of my moves came from the streets,” Clayton said and smiled. “That’s not something a white boy like you will ever have.”

  “Can we get serious here?” Mason said. “What did you find out?”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Clayton said. “What I saw was some of my old boys.”

  “Can you be any more cryptic?” Mason asked.

  “Soldiers from the base in Dayton,” Clayton said. “It was hard to tell. I couldn’t get close, but it looks like there’s a small group of soldiers hanging out by a transport truck. Maybe it broke down. Maybe it’s out of gas. I’m guessing the bad guys who are between us and them are the same ones that came after me, Ryan, and Madison out on the road.”

  “What are they doing here?” Mason asked.

  “It looks like they were on their way somewhere. The truck broke down, and now they’re trapped by these mooks.”

  “What’s our play?” Del asked.

  Mason took both the men in and said, “I don’t think we do anything. There’s three of us and who knows how many of them?”

  Clayton’s expression went sour. “I don’t like leaving my guys like that.”

  “I thought you deserted them?” Mason asked.

  “That was at the Manor when Colonel Kilgore was in charge. A lot of guys left. Jones stood up to him, but by that time, I was gone. It looks like they’re trapped out on that road now.”

  “These are the bastards that took our people and locked them in a basement to die,” Mason said, his face reddening.

  “Not all the guys were down with that,” Clayton said.

  “How do you know?” Mason asked. “You weren’t there.”

  “It’s the way it had to go down,” Clayton said. “I bet.”

  “You bet?!” Mason said. “You don’t know.”

  “Calm the hell down,” Del said, hissing out the words. “They might hear you.”

  Mason looked back toward where they had spotted to two men, and when he returned his attention to Mason and Del, he looked a little embarrassed.

  Del leaned in a little close to the two men and asked, “You said they had a transport truck, right?”

  “Yeah,” Clayton said.

  “We could really use that truck,” Del said.

  Mason’s eyebrows went up, and his expression was a mix of confusion and concern. Clayton’s face turned into a suspicious scowl.

  Chapter 26

  Wounds That Won’t Go Away

  The man’s name was Tyler, and he had been a Jack of All Trades back at Donovan’s compound. During a stint in the Army, he had trained as a combat medic. After getting out of the service, he drifted from job-to-job, working as a handyman, a short order cook, and an EMT. This versatility made him a valuable player for the group, but all that was lost now. A single bite had ended all that and had ended him, too.

  Being a stoic, he wasn’t the crying type, but his fate was written in his expression. He was a doomed man.

  “Tyler, what can we do for you?” Donovan asked.

  “Nothing,” Tyler replied, looking off into the distance with that thousand mile stare soldiers bring back from war. He was sitting on the side of the road, rocking slowly back and forth, purposefully away from most of the other people.

  Donovan resisted asking the next question because it was the cruelest one. Still, he found a way through his hesitation. “What do you want to do?” He didn’t need to be specific. It came down to whether Tyler wanted to take care of the matter himself or wanted one of them to do it and whether he wanted it done now or later. Those were the harsh realities of their world now.

  “Can someone stop the bleeding back there?” Tyler asked. “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  Donovan looked toward the small group of people milling around the trailer. “Heather, can you get the medical supplies from the Jeep?” They had collected a small emergency medical kit from the farm they had scavenged. It wasn’t much of a kit, but it would have to do.

  Heather was one of the younger people in their group, at seventeen. She had gotten separated from her parents in the attack on their compound. The soldiers had grabbed her and taken her back to the Manor. Donovan considered it a miracle that the soldiers didn’t try anything with her, because she was an attractive girl with shoulder length blond hair and pale skin. It seems that Lieutenant Braden had used what was left of his authority to protect the women they had taken.

  She didn’t jump into action but instead shifted back and forth on her feet. To Donovan, the reason behind her hesitation was obvious. She didn’t want to touch the wound.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll treat the wound,” Donovan said.

  She visibly relaxed and moved toward the Jeep.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Tyler,” Donovan said.

  “Not your fault,” Tyler said through the pain, but the words came out clipped. “Were they a part of this horde?”

  “We don’t think so,” Donovan said. “We’ve encountered these types of roving bands of zombies in the past. It was just our bad luck to run into this one.”

  “Yeah, real shit
ty luck,” Tyler said as he hung his head. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his armpits were stained with it. It was too soon for the zombie virus. This was just the panic sweat of a man who knew he was going to be dead soon.

  “I don’t want to become one of those things,” Tyler said.

  “We can make sure that doesn’t happen,” Donovan said.

  The silence hung between them, heavy and full of unanswerable questions.

  “I’ll do it myself,” Tyler said. “Just give me a few minutes to work up to it.”

  “You have time,” Donovan said. “The virus doesn’t move that fast.”

  “I can’t wait until I can’t take care of it myself.”

  “We won’t let it get that far,” Donovan said, putting a hand on Tyler’s shoulder.

  Tyler looked up at Donovan, and his eyes were moist and rimmed with redness.

  Footsteps sounded behind them, and Donovan turned to see Heather bringing back the medical kit. She came at them at a jog, but slowed down with each step as she got closer to Donovan and Tyler. It was as if she were moving into a quicksand area and she wanted to be careful.

  Donovan put out a hand as she drew near, but she stopped a step and a half away. This was dangerous ground for her, so she leaned out, extending her arms while pushing the medical kit toward Donovan. The whole exercise was one in which she wanted to get them the kit while maintaining the maximum distance.

  “It’s alright, Heather,” Donovan said. “Tyler’s still with us, and he’s safe.” Donovan left off two crucial words -- for now.

  Still, she watched Tyler warily as she pushed the kit into Donovan’s hand. As soon as he had full possession of it, she rose up and stepped back.

  Donovan knew there was nothing he could say to fully allay her fears, so instead, he just said, “Thanks.”

  He got in behind Tyler and sat the medical kit on the ground. When he looked up at the wound, he wasn’t sure what he could do with what he had. The medical kit they had scrounged together wasn’t a wealth of supplies, but he’d do what he could. Tyler deserved at least that much.

  The wound was a nasty one. Bite wounds usually were. The zombie had bitten all the way through Tyler’s shirt and tore away an ugly bite full of flesh. Blood seeped out of the opening and down Tyler’s back freely.

  Donovan felt a wave of sadness rush over him. It was a palpable sensation. Something inside his chest tightened, and he noticed a slight tremble in his hands.

  They had been so lucky. Their compound was so remote that they had never encountered death other than in the form of zombies. Donovan had only sent teams of the most competent people out on field missions. These missions were measured and controlled to limit risk.

  The soldiers had ruined that when they attacked the compound and driven all of Donovan’s people out of their safe haven. Now they were out in the open and on the run. Donovan wasn’t even sure where the largest set of his people was. They had headed east, and he and his small team had moved south to find out where the soldiers had taken the rest of his people. With the help of Jo and Del, Donovan had been able to rescue his people.

  They had only lost one member of the rescue crew. The whole rescue mission and subsequent escape had been such chaos that Donovan hadn’t had the chance to think about Lou. Lou had a son inside and couldn’t wait, so he mounted a one-man attack and ended up getting captured himself. Somewhere inside, he had been bitten and turned. Jo had mercifully ended him.

  But there was no time to mourn. No time to be sad. The horde was on its way. He had to patch Tyler up and get his people heading east as fast as possible.

  “You okay back there?” Tyler asked.

  Donovan realized that he had disappeared from the scene for a moment, lost in his thoughts. “No, just checking what we have here, and it’s not much. I can clean the wound, and there’s a bottle of Oxycodone or some generic Tylenol. The Tylenol won’t do much to cut the pain.”

  “Give me that,” Tyler said. “No use wasting the good stuff on a short timer.”

  Donovan put a hand out and squeezed Tyler’s shoulder. “You don’t have to suffer. We can give you the Oxy.”

  “Really, no,” Tyler said. “Just clean it and dress it. I might have a day or more I can be useful, but we both know what will have to be done.” He paused, and Donovan thought he caught a slight hitch in Tyler’s voice. “Eventually.”

  “Okay, whatever you want,” Donovan said as he took out a piece of gauze. He spread it across the kit and dripped some hydrogen peroxide on it. Then, as gingerly as he could, he cleaned the wound, mopping up the blood.

  Tyler’s body only jerked once, but for the most part, he remained still as Donovan did his work. The rest of the people looked on from a safe distance as Donovan worked his way through the process of cleaning and dressing the wound. It only took about ten minutes.

  When he finished, Donovan closed up the kit, stood and moved around in front of Tyler. Once he got there, he extended a hand and said, “Let me help you up.”

  Tyler looked up, and Donovan could see all the futures that Tyler would ever have in his eyes, but he also saw someone working hard to stay in the present. A man who was still in the fight.

  “I can get up myself,” Tyler said.

  “But you don’t have to,” Donovan said.

  Tyler hesitated but finally gave into Donovan and put out a hand that Donovan took. Once their hands were locked, Donovan gave Tyler’s hand a gentle tug and pulled him to his feet. Tyler came upright with a slight grunt.

  Donovan looked over to the people milling about the road and yelled, “Saddle up, folks. We need to get on the road.”

  But he could sense a hesitancy in the people. All the same questions about Tyler’s limited future were evident in their expressions. Some clearly were already grieving. Some were afraid.

  Tyler spoke up, “Listen, I know I’m only with you now for a short time, but I’m not infectious until.....” He let that hang there for a moment. “Well, until. I want to and can be helpful until then. When the time comes, I’ll take care of myself.”

  They all knew what that meant, and the people whose faces were filled with sadness only looked worse. The ones who were scared didn’t look all that relieved. To them, Tyler was a ticking time bomb in their midst.

  “Tyler is good for now, people,” Donovan said.

  “Are you sure?” Troy asked, his arms crossed as he sat on the side of the trailer

  Donovan wasn’t sure what to say. They had never had one of their party get bitten. The stories he had been told said there was a decent incubation period, and it was only after the person had died that they could become infectious. The decline into death and zombification could take anywhere from four hours (which was unlikely) to forty-eight hours.

  A voice spoke up from the front of the convoy, “He’s safe for now.” It was Jo. “We had several people in town get bit. The virus takes its time, and you can watch people go through the stages. It’s very obvious.”

  She left out the fact that they usually took the person out or made them leave. Having an infected person in your midst was always risky, but they had been in a permanent location. This show was on the road, and it was all Donovan’s. She didn’t want to tell him what to do with his people. She just wanted to lay out the facts.

  “He still has time,” she said.

  The people must have been convinced because they started heading toward their respective vehicles. Troy was the only standout as he watched Tyler as if he were a wolf in their midst.

  Donovan walked behind Tyler as he trudged toward the trailer. Once they made it there, people parted to let Tyler through.

  “You can sit down in the corner,” Donovan said.

  “That’s where I sit,” Troy said.

  Donovan felt his temper flare a little, but he kept it in check.

  “Why don’t you put him next to our prisoner?” Troy asked.

  Austin had been trapped on the trailer through the whole ordeal and
hadn’t said a word. His hands were tied behind his back, and they had used rope to lash him to the trailer. Had the zombies overrun their position, Austin would have been an easy meal, but he didn’t say a word.

  “The more the merrier,” Austin said. Then he added. “Sorry, I can’t move over to give you space.” He wore an over-large smile, but there was nothing cheery about it.

  “Watch your mouth,” Donovan said, and he leaned in toward their prisoner. A prisoner that had been a part of a group that had killed one of his people.

  Austin must have seen something in Donovan’s face because he shut up and actually moved his body over to accommodate Tyler.

  Tyler looked over to Austin and said, “I guess you and I are on the ship of the damned.” He wore a grin, too, but like Austin’s earlier smile, there was no mirth behind it.

  Chapter 27

  Decisions of Life and Death

  The caravan had been stopped dead in a shallow and long valley between two sets of hills, the road extending from east to west. The road wound slowly to the west looking like a long ribbon disappearing over the hills. With the possibility of marauders ahead, the decision was made to hold position as the final stragglers made their way to their position, but they knew that couldn’t go on forever.

  Collectively, the group knew they were on borrowed time. The horde was off to the west, and it was only a matter of time before they showed up on the scene, and that was it. They’d have no choice but to go on.

  As soon as Jo stepped back behind the steering wheel of the truck, the walkie-talkie on the seat squawked to life, and Del’s voice said, “Homebase, this is the away team.”

  Jo snatched up and said, “Homebase, really? We can’t come up with more original names?”

  “No time for that,” Del said. “We have a situation.”

  Jones leaned over closer to the walkie-talkie. Clara and Gertie pressed closer to the front seat to listen.