Live (NOLA Zombie Book 3)

by Zane, Gillian

  “You think they’re gonna pay to get your ass back? Maybe just so they can kill you. Keep your fucking mouth shut. You even hint at bringing them to the compound and I’ll kill you before we get there,” I hissed. Clara whimpered and glanced in my direction. Her eyes were huge and panicked. I almost felt sorry for her, almost.

  “She already done told us where ya little compound is, slut. When we get rid of you two, we’ll deal with your men. Bet my words, ya hear?” Ugly Number Two threatened.

  I fell silent, not because I thought these two half-wits and their genius of a mother could take the compound, but I knew they would cause trouble. Fucking Clara, I might just kill her anyway. If I wasn’t headed for the same fate I would almost be gleeful that she was about to get sold as a living, breathing sex toy.

  Eleven | Pants on the Ground

  ZACH

  I slept for maybe four hours before I was staring at the top of the bunk, a million scenarios going through my head. I needed a plan, I needed action. I needed to be out there looking for Alexis.

  With about three hours of night left, I got up and went to my office and began to pace. I was going to wear myself ragged if I didn’t settle down. I had a large office, enough for a desk and a sofa, some bookshelves, and my gun safe. Before Z, I had collected guns and I kept my most prized possessions in this safe. I hadn’t touched it since the shit hit. None of the firearms were practical, an old Belgian Derringer, a vintage Claywood, impractical shit that I thought was important a year ago.

  I had been focused on so many things that in today’s world were inconsequential and frivolous. I had put so much stock into it, thinking it was important, thinking it made me a person of worth. Today none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Alexis.

  I didn’t know if I had a sick imagination or I had just seen too much evil shit in my lifetime, but all I could do was imagine what was being done to her over and over again. It was like a fucking freak slideshow in my head. She was a tough girl. She could handle herself, but there was only so much you could do when you were outmatched and outnumbered.

  Every scenario I conjured up was nastier and more violent than the last. I couldn’t just sit here. I had to do something. I couldn’t stand to be in my own head.

  I heard footsteps in the hall and pushed away from my desk as if I had been caught doing something wrong, like my terrible thoughts would be evident in the air around me.

  Blake walked into my office and sat on the sofa that was at the other end of my office, the sofa that only a few days ago I had taken Alexis on. She had looked so beautiful bent over…

  Enough of that.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said in greeting. “The only thing we can do today is run patrols. We can take it up and down 90. They have to be somewhere around here. I say we push it all the way up to Pearl River and then head back down, just look for any activity or signs of life. We’ll come across them at some point.”

  “I’m glad you’re so confident,” I replied wearily.

  “What else am I supposed to be? Should I be feeling sorry for myself, sitting in the dark with my pants around my ankles like you?”

  “My pants are not around my ankles,” I scoffed.

  “C’mon, let’s get moving, it’s almost dawn. Just you and me, we’ll find her. The rest of the group can rest up and protect the compound while we search.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I followed him out of the office.

  Twelve | Choose to Live

  ALEXIS

  We were closer to New Orleans East than I expected. We must have been right outside of the urban area where the ‘burbs met the marsh. I had assumed we were near Slidell, but we were still within Orleans Parish. If we didn’t run into any issues, we would be in Lakeview in about an hour.

  They took Chef Menteur until it intersected with Michoud Boulevard, a sparsely populated area that boasted a NASA production facility. The two Uglies wound their way through a few neighborhoods, but nothing moved and only the occasional Z could be seen shuffling across a lawn or down a sidewalk.

  Clara remained quiet except for a few sniffles and hiccups sporadically interspersed for effect. She was pushed up against the door as far away from me as possible and every bump they hit she would whimper and look at me all scared. I hope it hurt.

  “A little more than you bargained for when you came up with your big scheme to dump me on the side of the road,” I whispered. She just hiccupped a sob in response. She was no fun. I didn’t want to think about what was about to happen to us. I thought it would be better to distract myself with a little Clara torture. If all she did was cry though, what good was that?

  “Quiet, you,” Ugly Number One turned around and glared at me. I wanted to flip him off so bad, but my survival instincts said don’t poke the dumb bear. And it didn’t help that my hands were cuffed behind my back. I only managed an eye roll, which he didn’t even notice because he had turned back around.

  I chose to just turn and stare out the window instead of engaging the idiots. We were now pushing past the outskirts of my usual territory. Our group had never ventured this far from the compound and it was surreal the changes that had happened in only a few short months.

  They made a left on Lake Forrest Boulevard pointing us toward the west. I barely recognized the area. The last time I had been out here was during high school when we volunteered to clean up the New Orleans Nature Center area for service hours. The center was now overgrown and looked like a forest in the middle of the city. The grass was burnt from the winter, but the weeds were almost as high as a house.

  The Z activity had picked up and now packs could be seen milling about and some started chasing after the car. Ugly Number Two had to swerve to avoid a large pack and luckily the street was wide enough that he managed this. If it would have had stalled cars clogging it, we would have been screwed.

  New Orleans East hadn’t fully come back from Katrina when Z hit. The area had been devastated like most of New Orleans, but before the storm it was a depressed and crime-ridden area so people were slow to return. Before Z hit, there were still many neighborhoods that had three to four abandoned houses and overgrown lots to each occupied house.

  This was good for the dead population, fewer people, less Z’s, but there was still a large amount of people in the area when the shit hit. Most of the residents were poor, without transportation and unable to evacuate. They had probably holed up and died by the hand of their neighbor or loved ones. As we drove by, the dead pushed at windows, locked inside of their houses forever.

  When we turned down Haynes Boulevard and passed up Millionaire’s Airport, entering the main New Orleans area, I knew it would only get harder for us from here on out. We were now in the denser populated areas with more houses, more habitation, more zombies. Shit could get nasty.

  It was strange to think my life was now dependent on these men. With my hands cuffed and my only clothes this stupid spandex dress, I wouldn’t make it far if we were overtaken. I would freeze to death or be eaten. I didn’t know what was worse, probably being eaten. That would hurt like a bitch.

  Sure enough, the Z population exploded the moment we passed the airport and crossed the bridge that led into the neighborhood of Gentilly. We were near the University of New Orleans in a highly populated area. A bunch of undergrad zombies were about to ruin my fucking day.

  But then, what the hell did I have to live for? Why was I in so much of a hurry to get to the next point? What did I have to look forward to, a biker gang that wanted me as a sex slave? Maybe I should be wishing for a little zombie intervention, to take us out, to take me out. Hopefully, they would get the two Uglies first, maybe Clara. I wasn’t looking forward to forced prostitution. But was death a better choice?

  Lani had thought so. There was no coming back from death though, no big comeback. That was the big finale. If I lived, if I made it to Lakeview, even if I did have to put up with some heinous shit, I would still be alive. There still might be an
opportunity to escape. I had to hang onto that hope. There was always a chance for escape if you were alive. There was always a chance for better. No matter what shit I had to go through, I was still alive.

  And I wanted to live. No matter what, the choice was to live.

  Thirteen | Neighborly

  BLAKE

  We went up and down 90 a few times, looking for any signs of life and finding none. It was long and tedious and we switched places a few times, just in case one of us might have missed something. By the third pass, I was done with this bit of drama. It was my idea, but it wasn’t proving successful. I was a big boy, I could admit when I was wrong. Not out loud though.

  When we passed Venetian Isles for the second time, I remembered the family that was holed up in there. They were our closest neighbors; they kept to themselves and probably kept a watchful eye on the area. We had said we should talk to them, now was as good a time as any. I hoped they were still around. If they had been wiped out or moved on, we would have no way of knowing.

  I pulled over to the side of the road when I had the sudden insight to talk to them. If there was a family living in here, alone, they had to be paranoid, ever watchful. If there were other people roaming around in the area, they would know. They had to know.

  “You think the family is still living in here?” I asked Zach.

  “Yeah, from what I know, I haven’t seen them in a couple months, though. They might be gone.”

  “Let’s go ask them if they’ve seen anything. If the rednecks are in the area, they gotta know something.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to try,” he shrugged.

  I put the truck into gear and pulled into the neighborhood, heading to one of the back properties. It was a large house, raised, with a wrap-around porch, like most of the houses in this area. The lawn was overgrown and there were weeds taking over their boat launch, but other than that the house was in good order.

  Our truck was a diesel, so the rumble of the engine would be heard from inside the house if they were still around. As we pulled up I saw motion from the porch, the flick of a curtain, the movement of a shadow at the window.

  I reached in the back of the cab and pulled out a few bags of MREs and got out of the truck. Zach jumped out and went around the vehicle to stand at my side. I held up my hands, MREs in hand, showing them that I was unarmed and I elbowed Zach to do the same. He was tense and at the ready, I didn’t know what he would do, I had this sudden fear that he would go up there guns drawn, demanding answers.

  “Neighborly,” I whispered.

  He huffed and I think he responded with, “No shit, asshole,” but I couldn’t be certain. Hey, better safe than sorry.

  I knew the family was a bit on the paranoid side, but I wasn’t going to confront them unarmed. We both had Brownings, our handy 9mms, tucked into our waistbands, hopefully the family would see this as protection and not aggression.

  The front door opened and a boy who couldn’t be older than eighteen came out onto the porch. He had a shotgun in his right hand and didn’t look the least bit welcoming.

  “We come in peace,” Zach said in a sarcastic drawl and I could have shot him. The guy had no social etiquette.

  “We just want to talk,” I added and held up the MREs again. “I have a few MREs if you want them. We just want to ask you a few questions. We’re from the compound a few miles from here.”

  “Yeah, I remember that one,” the teen pointed a finger at Zach. “We don’t want no trouble, we just want to be left alone.”

  “We respect that, we wouldn’t bother you if we didn’t need help,” I said.

  “We don’t have anything, we can’t help you out,” the teen said belligerently.

  “Just information,” Zach spoke up quickly before the teen could slip away. “We don’t need anything, just information.”

  “Have you noticed any other men in the area? Maybe a pickup truck with two men in it? An old woman?” I quickly asked.

  “Why do y’all need help with other people? You going to hurt them?” he asked suspiciously.

  “They took one of our group, a woman, and we don’t think they have good intentions. We have to get her back, if you’ve seen them…” Zach said.

  “She’s family, they took our family,” I added to promote empathetic feelings from the kid.

  “They took your woman? That ain’t right.” The teen finally looked like he was more open to helping us.

  “No, it’s not and we want to find her quickly, if not, we’re scared of what they’ll do to her. We think they’re stealing from people, grabbing women and trying to take anything they can by gunpoint. They aren’t good people.”

  “That’s bullshit. This world may be gone to shit, but stealing ain’t right,” the teen spat. “We did see someone, an old woman and a couple of big men. Fat fuckers, look like ex-cons or something, not big like you guys, fat. They’re up in a camp closer to New Orleans near those industrial places, about a couple miles down. We saw ‘em while we were in the boat. Big yellow camp, think they called it “Fishing Around” or something like that, had a flag. You can’t see it from the highway.”

  “Thank you,” Zach called. “You don’t know what this means to us.”

  “If they’re taking women, I don’t want them anywhere near this area. If you do find them, take them out, make sure they can’t come back here, we only want to worry about the infected.”

  “Will do,” I called as we backed away. I wasn’t going to turn my back on this kid no matter how friendly he seemed.

  “Leave the MREs on the sidewalk and y’all go on. We’re neighbors and all, but I think this was enough conversation for one day.”

  “Thanks, man, really.” I placed the MREs on the sidewalk and then got back in the truck. We had a fishing camp to find. Like now.

  Fourteen | Dumb Cagers & Apocalypse Meth Cookers

  ALEXIS

  Ugly One and Two had obviously made this trek before. They knew the back ways and how to avoid the large packs of Z’s that prowled the streets. It also helped that the streets were mostly clear of cars and debris. New Orleans resembled a ghost town.

  As we pushed deeper into the city there were a few vehicles sporadically parked across the streets as if the occupants had just jumped out and run off. Some still held their occupants, the windows rolled up, their decomposed faces pressed against the glass as their mouths slowly opened and closed. It was reassuring that they were unable to work something as simple as a door handle, but pitiful in the same sense. Whatever lived within these creatures, whatever fueled their damned existence–their driving hunger, it was relegated for an eternity within the confines of their cars. Changed, in a violent act, but still so normal as they sat forever behind the wheel, wearing the same clothes they died in.

  It took only a few minutes to make it onto Robert E. Lee Boulevard and cross into the City Park area, finally coming to a stop when we reached the Orleans Avenue Canal. There were large bastions full of sand blocking the road, placed strategically so you couldn’t drive a vehicle over the bridge. Two guards stood with rifles raised, coming to attention as U2 and U1 raised their hands out of the window.

  “We got girls for trade,” U2 called out the window.

  “That you, Phil? You got those girls you were talking about earlier?” one of the guards called.

  “Yeah, we got ‘em in the back, pretty little things, you give us safe passage?”

  “Yeah, Spider’ll take ya in,” U1 and U2 got out of the car and they both went to the back doors, yanking them open. It was the quickest I had seen them move. They were scared of these bikers.

  U2 grabbed me, yanking me out of the car. I didn’t have shoes on and I scuffed my toes as he pushed me forward. My dress was pushed up and my hair was in my face, I must look like a hot mess. I hadn’t looked in the mirror in a long time, but it was likely I also sported a few bruises and scrapes from my tussles with these winners that were selling me. Hopefully it drove their asking price way down. I didn
’t want these fuckers making much off of me.