New DEAD series (Book 4): DEAD [Don Evans Must Die]

by Brown, TW

  Then, a few people in the stands started to make some noise. Only, it wasn’t directed at what was going on here. The ones at the top were standing and looking back behind them. They were pointing, and more than a few were shouting.

  And then others began to stand and turn, but by then, the ones at the top were backing away and making their way down the bleachers. A few were actually turning around and shoving their way past other people that were just now starting to get up and try to see what was going on.

  That was about the time that the wind shifted and picked up. The mystery was solved before I heard the first moan.

  The undead were inside the compound. When I shot a glance over at Marshawn, I was more than a little surprised to see his expression.

  He was smiling.

  12

  The Children

  I saw them now as they poured in from both sides of the bleachers. It was almost comical. A cliché of sorts as the undead finally made their way in just as they had in the mall of the original Dawn of the Dead. Only, this time, there was no biker gang. I had no idea how they’d breached Don’s compound.

  What I did know was that this was my opportunity to get my ass out of here. Don and his goons were now turned with their backs to me. Lisa had vanished as people began to run every direction. Some were trying to escape, others were heeding Don’s shouts as he told people to get to the arms locker and grab weapons in order to push these things back.

  I got up, wincing in pain and holding my ribs as I made my way to the octagon ring. Marshawn was just climbing over and dropping to the ground now that there were other priorities.

  “How the hell did you end up here?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’d just found you when you got snatched up by that bitch Natasha.” He looked over at the dead body of the woman that Lisa had literally stabbed in the back. “I was figuring you to be dead meat.”

  “So why did you come here then? If I was dead, what would’ve been the point?”

  “Don Evans has to die, man. And if I went down in the process, it would’ve been fine. But then I found help.”

  He started across the outfield and made his way to the football stadium. It was obvious that preparations were already underway to convert this space into a garden area. We wove through the raised boxes of earth until we reached the switchback entrance and exit.

  Marshawn had started off at a jog until he realized that I wasn’t keeping up. He scowled when he took in my limp and how I was clutching my ribs and wincing with every step. Hurrying back, he’d thrown my arm over his shoulders and helped me across the open area and out of the fenced in area of the high school that Don Evans was converting to a compound.

  We crossed the street to a series of homes that looked as if they’d been fire bombed. He headed for one house in particular that had the blackened husk of an SUV jutting from where a front room window looked to have once looked out at the school across the way.

  He went to the SUV and crawled under it. As he did, something flashed out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see a red flare floating lazily to the ground from the opposite side of the compound. A moment later, another flare burst to my right.

  “That’s the signal. They are waiting for me.”

  I turned to see Marshawn dragging a large crate from under the wreckage. He flipped it open and came up with a flare gun of his own that he loaded and pointed skyward.

  “But you were captured,” I stated what seemed like the obvious. “If you were still there, then…” I let that sort of fade as I waited for his response.

  “Then they fire again in two hours. If they do not hear back from me, they go ahead with the assumption that I didn’t make it.”

  I nodded. That seemed logical. I had no idea what they were going ahead with, but it felt like they had the bases covered. I watched as Marshawn pulled out a tube-like contraption. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

  “A mortar?” I asked more than a little incredulous. Surely they couldn’t be that easy to come by…much less operate with any degree of efficiency.

  Before I could ask, he pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from his boot and began to read it as he assembled (or whatever they called it) the mortar launcher. As I watched, something began to niggle at the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was, but it was not going away no matter how hard I tried to shove it out of my mind.

  Then it hit me.

  “Selina!” I gasped.

  Marshawn looked up at me and glanced around as if expecting to see somebody approaching us. I glanced back at the school and then at Marshawn.

  “You can’t do this,” I said hurriedly.

  “Sure I can, Teddy showed us. Plus, he wrote down very easy steps to follow including how to adjust fire,” Marshawn replied absently, not looking up from what he was doing.

  “No, I mean one of the kids I was travelling with that got snatched from my old camp we found Chewy at is in there. You might kill her in the process.”

  Marshawn stopped and looked up at me. I saw something in his eyes that I did not like in the least. There was a deep sadness there, but it was tempered with determination. He was going to do this any way.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. But one person sacrificed for the greater good is an acceptable loss. And maybe we get lucky and she doesn’t get hit.” He went back to what he was doing.

  “She isn’t the only one in there that is being kept against her will. Plenty of those people do not agree with what is happening,” I argued. Then another thought hit me. “And maybe you don’t hit Don either. What about that?”

  “We have eyes inside,” Marshawn said with almost no emotion. “That is where we are going to concentrate our attack.”

  They had eyes inside? So they’d seen what went on in there. If they were as sickened as I was, then my argument would hold no water at all. That meant Selina and who knew how many others might perish and be considered collateral damage or “acceptable” losses.

  That had always been a term that “stuck in my craw” as my grandpa used to say. I did not see how a life could be deemed acceptable to lose. It was one of the things that had bothered me about movies like Saving Private Ryan. How were all those other guys considered to be acceptable losses to save one kid no matter that his brothers had died in a separate incident? Whether one mom loses five or another loses one…how can there be a situation where one life is deemed more valuable or important? Or less.

  I looked at Marshawn busily preparing the mortar launcher and then back at the high school where I could hear screams and shouting along with sporadic gunfire. I knew I was in no shape to do much, but I also knew that a little girl that had once trusted me was just on the other side of the fence that closed in Sandy High School.

  I started back. Just as I managed to cross the road, I heard Marshawn call after me. “Evan! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Going back for Selina,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You can’t,” he shouted.

  I reached the switchback turnstile and started to push through. I could hear feet slapping the asphalt of the road behind me. I was through as he reached the fencing.

  “Evan, if you go in there…you are probably going to die,” he said, a pleading sound seeping into his tone.

  “You got eyes on Don,” I reminded. “If I stay away, I will probably be okay.” I sort of felt bad throwing his words back at him, but I would feel infinitely worse if I sat back and did nothing and Selina died in the attack that was about to come.

  “Dammit, Evan…this is stupid. Our people need you. Throwing your life away is not only stupid…but it is selfish.” Marshawn slapped the fencing for emphasis.

  I stared at him. I looked back over my shoulder at the school where the sounds of people dying was starting to hurt my soul. It was possible that Selina was among those dying right this moment.

  I looked back at Marshawn. “And if it was your daughter? If it was Tisha?”

  It was a crappy thin
g to say. I knew it. It stung my throat just saying the words. Marshawn looked as if I’d just slapped him. He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.

  “That is a shitty thing to do, man.” Marshawn turned and walked away.

  I wanted to apologize. I wanted to call out to him, but I knew that every moment I stood here made it more likely that Selina would die either at the hands and teeth of the undead or by mortar fire.

  Neither were acceptable.

  I started across the football field and was almost to the fencing that separated the baseball and softball grounds when I could smell the undead. I knew there had been a lot, but I had no idea how many. For the smell to hit me already when they were still so far away was an indicator that they had arrived in huge numbers.

  Zombies…the new Weapon of Mass Destruction.

  I could see them in clusters on the ground and new that there was a person under each of those writhing tumors of undead that dotted the area. There were people still in the bleachers doing their best to fight them off, but it was clearly a losing battle as more rounded the corners and stumbled their way up the steps.

  What I saw no sign of was Don Evans or either of his goons. To my left were the tennis courts, and it was in that direction that I heard and saw larger clusters of zombies converging. Gunfire also came primarily from that locale.

  I was limping that way when a hand clutched my shoulder with an iron grip. It was then that I realized I’d gotten way too carried away. In my haste to come to extract Selina, I’d gone off with no weapon at all.

  I was defenseless.

  “You’re an idiot,” a voice rumbled in my ear.

  I dropped my head and let loose with a sigh. The hand on my shoulder spun me around and I winced as my ribs protested the twisting motion.

  “That was still a shit thing to say,” Marshawn grumbled. “But you’re right. I wouldn’t be okay with this if that was my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry…I…” The words died on my tongue as another one of those gut-wrenching screams sounded from just beyond some tall shrubs that walled of some sort of open commons.

  “Later,” Marshawn said with a dismissive wave. “Let’s go find that little girl.”

  We started for the entrance to the gymnasium. That was where I’d been led outside from. Having never been inside Sandy High School before now, it was the only starting place I could think of.

  The undead were going to become an issue shortly and now that I was past the sports field complex, I was able to appreciate how many of the walking dead were present.

  Hundreds. Maybe close to a thousand. Later I would ask Marshawn how they’d managed to get them here.

  We rounded the shrub partition and almost fell over a cluster of the undead. Marshawn had to grab my arm to keep me from falling which turned my hiss of pain to a full-on yelp.

  My noise caused a few of the zombies not already involved in the carnage to turn our direction and start shambling for us.

  The closest was a small woman that had obviously just turned. Blood still dripped from all the rips and tears she’d endured, and her drag-step approach was leaving a trail on the concrete that looked as black as the tracers in her eyes.

  Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t going to topple, Marshawn advanced on her and slammed a machete blade into the crown of her skull. I was looking around for the next threat, but I doubted how much help I would be in fighting them off. Lifting my arm was painful, swinging with any force would probably be enough to blur my vision.

  After taking down a few more, Marshawn pulled out a radio. It must’ve been in the box with the mortar launcher was all I could figure.

  “This is M.” He paused and then keyed the radio again. “We have an issue inside the wire. Hold ten before unleashing weapons free.”

  “Negative, M. We have confirmation of target,” a voice I didn’t recognize replied.

  “Intel on site is inaccurate,” Marshawn insisted. “Report of sympathetics as well as children held against their will.”

  The radio crackled for a moment and then a voice came on. This one was female and there was obvious hesitation in her words. “M, this is B. You have…five minutes to try and clear. We have to take this chance before target manages to evac.” More static. “I am sorry, but that is the best I can do.”

  “So we just kill these people who have been sold a bad batch of goods and kill innocent children?” Marshawn snarled.

  “Acceptable losses.” The male voice was back and sounded aggravated. “And the clock is running. You need to get moving and stop wasting time.”

  “This isn’t like before. I don’t think acceptable losses can be defined the same way,” Marshawn argued. Despite protesting, he was still pulling me along and moving us toward the gym doors. “There aren’t enough of us alive for such a thing as acceptable losses any longer.”

  “Four minutes and thirty, M,” the male voice said with absolutely no emotional inflection.

  I had yet to meet this guy, but I hated him already. I hoped and wished for some adrenaline to kick in and numb the pain, but so far, every step was painful, and hurrying made me breathe faster which made things worse.

  Once we reached the doors to the gym, Marshawn yanked them open and made me wait until he’d ensure the coast was clear. He finally pulled me inside and I had to let my eyes adjust to the change. When they cleared, what I saw were a handful of people clustered together and looking at us like we were the walking dead.

  “If you don’t want to stay here, then you need to get your asses out to the burned-out houses across from the football field,” Marshawn announced.

  At first, the people, mostly women and a few younger teens and small children, looked at one another as if waiting for somebody to decide for them. Finally, there was a commotion and one of the children pushed away from the others.

  “Evan?” a young girl’s voice said tentatively. “How come you are not dead?”

  “Not for lack of trying,” I said with a grin as I recognized Selina under the baseball cap she had pulled down low on her head to hide most of her features. “And I missed you too, by the way.”

  The girl at least had the sense to blush as she realized how that last statement had sounded. She looked back at the others and then to me. Without warning, she came for me with her arms out wide.

  I knew she was happy to see me, and I was so relieved, but as she slammed into me, I realized what a bad idea her enthusiasm would be for my pain issues. I tried to brace for the impact but failed miserably. I moaned that sounded more like a yelp when she squeezed with a considerable amount of enthusiasm.

  That set off a near disastrous chain of events. Marshawn turned suddenly in response to my sound. The people clustered together apparently assumed that the girl had attacked me. Each of them drew some form of knife or machete and they began to spread out as if to attack me and Marshawn.

  “Whoa,” I croaked.

  Selina turned and planted her hands on her hips. “This is my friend that I kept telling you would come for me,” she scolded.

  It was nice to see that she was still the fiery little girl that I’d last known before this whole thing with Don Evans began. If anything, she was even more spirited.

  “This will have to wait,” Marshawn snapped. “We are against a clock.”

  I nodded and reached for Selina’s hand. She glanced at Marshawn and then the people still spread out holding weapons—many as if they were afraid they would be bitten by the things—with a frown.

  “I’m coming.” Selina shrugged her shoulders and wiped the frown from her face. “But you shouldn’t let Carl join us. I think he is one of those jerkface Donnie Evans followers now. He turned mean right after we were captured. He even smacked me once when I told that jerkface that I hated his guts and hoped he got eaten by the zombies.”

  I started backing toward the door with Marshawn and Selina. The people still seemed undecided, and as much as I hated it, I couldn’t wait around for them to make
up their minds.

  We were just reaching the baseball diamond when the radio crackled to life.

  “Sixty seconds.”

  I pressed my lips together and clenched my teeth against the pain as we tried to hurry. Unfortunately, there were now a number of undead wandering around and we couldn’t swerve to avoid them. To my surprise, although it shouldn’t have been, Selina stepped away from me with a nasty serrated blade. She ducked under a zombie’s arms and came up under and shoved the blade up under its chin. It was a long, slender blade that was obviously long enough to drive into the brain pan and end the creature.

  When she danced back, pulling her arm free with a twist, I was more than a little impressed. It was clear she’d dealt with her fair share of the undead.

  “Not so fast, my friends!” a familiar and unwelcome voice shouted.

  13

  Incoming

  Don Evans had appeared around the far side of the bleachers. One of his goons, the albino, stood at his side, but he was gasping for breath…and splattered with blood.

  “I was lied to,” Don said with an overdramatized gasp. He pointed at Marshawn. “I was told you were killed. Good help is so hard to find these days.”

  “You expect the types of people you hang with to be honest?” Marshawn laughed.

  “The kinds of people?” Don shot back. “You mean white, hard-working Americans?”

  “Yeah…sure, we’ll go with that.” Marshawn glanced at me and winked. “Present company excluded.”

  “Thanks, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder.

  “No problem.”

  “My people are simply taking back what is ours and cutting off the dead weight.” Don took a few steps forward to allow another half dozen of his people to fan out around him.

  There was no doubt that we were outgunned. The only people near me that looked ready for a fight was Marshawn…and oddly enough, Selina. I remembered the crack shot little girl I’d first met and had to smile. She’d gained a considerable amount of confidence since she’d been gone.