Into the Dealands

by R. J. Spears

  Working up his courage, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She let out a little moan and tried to pull herself away from the middle of the night intrusion.

  He didn’t let go, but gave her a shoulder a little shake and leaned over her. In a quiet voice, he said, “Madison, I need you to wake up.”

  Her eyes fluttered a little and he said it again, but this time added that there wasn’t any immediate danger.

  Her eyes finally opened and she looked up him, but he wasn’t sure that she was completely awake until she said, “What is it, Mr. Schultz?”

  He liked that she didn’t call him Schultzy like everyone else.

  “Honey, I need your help and the sisters aren’t going to like it.” The “sisters” is what they called the two elderly ladies that they shared the house with.

  He saw a sense of unease spread across her face, but it flitted away like a gentle mist.

  “What do you need?”

  “I’m going on a little expedition and need your help. It’s going to be dangerous. I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Did you ever learn about the Trojan horse in school?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said while rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  “Well, I have a mission I have to do, and I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

  She looked up at him with an implacable expression that almost made him stop what he was saying, but he decided to continue on. He rationalized that he would only have her along to carry things. He’d keep her well out of harm’s way.

  That’s what he told himself in that part of his mind where rationalizations live. In that other part where truth roamed, he knew that in this world, there was no place that harm couldn’t reach. And then there was the dream.

  He took a moment to tell her about it, but left out the worst of it.

  “Was it like one of Joel’s visions?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said, but then added, “I don’t know, really.”

  “It sort of sounds like one of them.”

  He left that alone, then took a moment to clear his throat, then said, “Like I said, it’s going to be dangerous, but I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.”

  “What is it you want to do?” she asked.

  He spoke for several minutes, sprinkling in every few sentences that she would only be support and he would be doing the direct action. He reinforced that he would keep her out of harm’s way.

  She almost believed him, but she wasn’t a naive child. She had seen the worst that this undead world could deal. She knew the bad that could happen. She had seen her undead father turn on the family he once loved more than anything and bite her brother. She had seen her mom take her brother and leave the church at gunpoint and disappear into the night and she never saw either of them again.

  Despite all of this, she said she would help, and he felt both relieved and frightened. She was a lot of responsibility, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He only needed a little help, but it was a need. If he had any chance of pulling off what he was about to do, then he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

  He also knew, no matter what, his time on the earth was limited. She had a long life ahead of her and he wanted to make sure she lived it. If he could.

  Chapter 30

  Back on the Road North

  Getting back on the road was harder than we expected. Anytime we faced off with the undead, the adrenaline got pumping, full speed ahead and wide open. The ensuing crash was inevitable, sapping us like the surf had drained out to the deep, deep ocean never to return. My legs felt sluggish as if loaded down with sand as we trudged back to our bicycles. The thought of having to pedal another fifty or so miles seemed akin to the Bataan death march.

  Our whole party of five seemed listless, walking silently through the tall grass on the side of the road. Instead of taking on the undead in the area, we skirted around them if we could. The few we couldn’t were dispatched with guns instead of hand-to-hand weapons. The whole run silent, run deep act went out the window when the helicopter exploded and crashed to the ground.

  Strangely, the massive flock of birds that had zeroed in on the helicopters just minutes before had completely dispersed, evaporating like steam. The only evidence left behind of their heroic onslaught were the broken and burnt carcasses lying about. There was something depressing about their tiny bodies scattered about in the hundreds.

  As we were picking up our bikes, Brother Ed said, “Look at that,” as he peered back at that the fire behind us.

  When I looked around, I saw the entire conglomeration of rusted out mobile homes burning, thick black smoke rising into the sky like a funeral pyre. I’m sure the smoke could be seen for miles around and, at the time, I thought the fire and the smoke might be a good thing because it would act as the big draw for the undead in the area as we made our escape.

  In my head, I heard a carnival barker shouting away at the undead audience. “Come one, come all, see the primal and powerful nature of fire. Man’s first and best invention.”

  In an uncharacteristic moment of self-restraint, I kept this to myself.

  My bike felt like it weighed fifty pounds and the backpack seemed like a thousand. Everyone acted the same way as they grunted away from the effort. The only one of to remain quiet was Jason, but he was always the silent one.

  Aren’t I funny?

  Pedaling was a chore as we rode away from the growing inferno behind us. I hoped it wouldn’t get out of control. In the old world, firefighters would show up in their big red fire engines and beat down the flames with their hoses, but not anymore. It was a wonder that the whole world didn’t burn.

  I wondered if my mood could get any cheerier.

  After less than a mile, we had put some distance on the zombies and I decided we needed a breather. Scanning the side of the road, I saw an abandoned gas station, looking like a decent place to take a break. As I watched the others, I saw the fatigue in their bodies, their heads down and their legs barely making the revolutions to move the bikes forward.

  “Guys, we need to take a break,” I said back to them.

  I thought one of them might object, but no one did.

  “Head for that gas station,” I said as I coasted toward the parking lot.

  This gas station had gone out of business well before the world’s downfall. The cinderblock building that served as its main hub was weather worn with more gray blocks showing than paint. Most of the windows had been broken in at some point.

  Maybe gas price volatility killed it. Maybe mismanagement. Armchair quarterbacking the demise of this tiny long dead gas station was of little concern at that point.

  As I drifted into the lot, I saw a faded large wooden sign off to the left of the gas station advertising a mini-golf course. Like the main building, wind, rain, and sun had their way with the sign, peeling off much of the green and yellow paint. If the gas station looked sad, the weed-filled miniature golf course was downright depressing. There would be no playing nine while we were there.

  “Let’s camp here for the night, folks,” I said as I dismounted in front the main building.

  Jason pulled up beside me and after he laid his bike down scribbled on his notepad and shared with me. “Thanks. We needed a break after that.” When I looked up, he was pointing back in the direction of the mobile homes.

  Kara slid in next to me. Of us all, she looked the least tired from a physical standpoint, but her face was drawn in worry.

  “Brother Ed thinks we should turn back and try to get with Donovan’s people,” she whispered as she leaned in toward me.

  Jason must have heard and he got to writing. He showed us his work quickly. “No. We must head north. That is the mission.”

  “I know,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We get the messages, he doesn’t. It’s got to be a lot harder for him.”

  Naveen coasted into the lot with Brot
her Ed following. Both of them looked worn out. Our merry little band of zombie refugees was running on fumes.

  No one said much as we rested there, letting the breeze from the west cool our bodies. Kara sidled up to me and put her head on my right shoulder as I sat staring off into the distance, thinking of nothing because nothing was safe. A few seconds later, Naveen flopped down on my left side and mirrored Kara’s actions. Thoughts of getting back on the road seemed remote in that moment. What I had right then and there mattered most to me. This big and cryptic mission was a remote as India. The pull of listening to Brother Ed and turning back seemed as strong as gravity. Going north was a risk. Heading off into parts unknown was very attractive. The Manor folks could take care of themselves, the tiny little selfish devil on my shoulder whispered into my ear.

  But I knew there was no denying it. North was our destiny, and we would have no choice but to head there. That didn’t mean I had to like it.

  I hope you enjoyed reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  The adventure continues in Books of the Dead 5: The Living and the Dead, as Joel, Kara, Jason, and the others encounter a new and nastier villain, forcing Joel to have to make a desperate decision. Jo and the others at the Manor decide to take their chances at a full scale rebellion against the soldiers holding them and their friends hostage.

  All the while, bigger forces are at work, trying to the topple the balance of good and evil in the world. With the undead ruling the earth, it seems like evil will win that struggle.

  I hope you’re looking forward to that next book. It has a very nasty villain as Joel and the gang end up in dark waters that threaten to sweep them under.

  Look for it in April 2018.

  Thanks,

  R.J. Spears

  P.S. If you enjoyed the book, I’d love to read your review.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thanks for reading Into the Deadland: Books of the Dead 4. This series has been a labor of love for me. If you enjoyed the book, or even didn’t enjoy it, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. As an indie author, reviews are necessary for my books to get exposure. They act as social proof that my books are worth reading. You just finished the book, please take a moment to leave a review.

  Also, if you would like a FREE collection of short stories; please go to this website:

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  If you enjoyed this book, please consider reading my other series, Forget the Zombies, starting out with Forget the Alamo.

  Lastly, if you want to ask me a question or interact with me, please feel free to email me at: rjspears@gmail.com

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