Dead 09: Spring

by T. W. Brown

  “Why? Because I am immune to the bite?” Ronni scoffed. “I’m not the only one. And it don’t make me special. It ain’t no different than when everybody would get the flu but me when I was younger. It’s nothing!”

  “But you’re wrong,” Brett countered. “You are special, as are all the others who are spared from this wretched disease. It will be people like you and me that repopulate this world. We will help humanity reclaim the earth from the vast hordes of undead.”

  Ronni saw something new flash across a few of the faces of the men that were with Brett’s people. She did not like it one bit. She had to stifle a shiver that simmered just below the surface of her gooosebump-ridden skin.

  “You are crazy,” Ronni said with a shake of her head. “And I wouldn’t want to repopulate anything with you.”

  Ronni squeezed the trigger. Brett had thought he was being clever. He thought that she had not seen the five men that had ducked inside the big barn. He probably thought that he had her attention focused entirely on him.

  The strangely weak sound came, but it was quickly followed by a horrendous explosion when the projectile arced through the air and into the wide open doors of the loft. Flames, straw, and chunks of wood and what had to be body parts erupted from the huge open square entry. It had the added bonus of causing the beam to break that Dustin was hanging from, sending the man gracelessly to the ground where he stayed sprawled in a heap.

  While everybody was busy ducking the falling debris, Ronni took that time to get her weapon reloaded. She was just bringing it up to her shoulder when Brett recovered. He screamed in anger, but when she leveled the launcher directly at him, the man halted.

  In the dirt was the smoldering upper torso of one of the men that had been in the loft. More than one set of eyes had fixed on that horrible sight. Ronni had a feeling that a good many of Brett’s followers were quickly deciding that the whole idea of dying now and meeting God in just a moment was not exactly something they were in a hurry to do.

  “How about you all just toss any sort of weapons that you might have on the ground and then put your hands up where I can see them,” a voice called from the behind Brett.

  “Tina!” Ronni practically squealed.

  “Hey there, cupcake,” the woman hollered back as she emerged with a dozen armed men and women. “Pretty slick move of yours not to tell me that it was people instead of zombies causing all the ruckus. But when I got close and heard what was happening, I went for a little backup.”

  “But what about…” Ronni stopped and her eyes went to where Dustin was on the ground. She could not see any signs of movement. Tina’s eyes followed hers and the woman broke into a sprint.

  After that, it was sort of chaotic. More people showed up in support of Tina. She had apparently sent the word out. The sad news was that Scott had been killed in all of the madness. Somebody had stabbed him in the stomach and he had bled out. Ronni had felt responsible, but it was Dustin who later told her that he had been dead before she had even gotten back, and that even if she had made it in time, there was almost no chance that he would have recovered.

  The good news was that it seemed that all of Brett’s followers had been involved in the big barn fiasco. By that night, they had all been locked up. Ronni had asked what would become of them. It was Dustin that answered.

  “We will give them the option to leave…or be put to death.”

  “But aren’t you worried that they will just come back?” Ronni had asked as she sat beside her father’s bed, holding his hand while the man continued to sleep.

  “We can’t live our lives worrying about those sorts of things. And despite what they attempted to do, I am not any man’s judge. Let their God do that when the time comes.”

  Ronni did not care much for the response, but none of that really mattered. She had the only thing she cared about right beside her…her dad.

  ***

  Jody smiled as the tiny fortified town of Hope came into view. He’d been given not only what he considered a bit of good news, but he had also learned something that might help ease the darkness that had settled on his soul.

  He and Danny had enjoyed a welcoming and surprisingly enjoyable visit with Kat. After the hugs, they sat down and Kat told them all about the guy she was living with.

  As it turns out, Pitts had been far more civilized in his approach than Jody. They had what was basically a speed dating “fair” of sorts. There was food and live music. All of the women were brought to a home where they were able to clean up and pick out some nice clothes. Then, they were allowed to wander from table to table where men sat patiently. Kat had been hesitant. At one point, a man approached her and signed! He had been one of the soldiers tasked with scouting Hope and told her that he had seen her around, but what got his attention was that she used sign language. His mother had been deaf.

  She and all of the other ladies were actually very happy. However, they all agreed that they did not cherish the idea of having a child and simply leaving it behind if it happened to be a girl. Jody decided to risk revealing part of what Pitts had offered to each one provided they keep it quiet. He stressed that until the formal treaty was signed (an aspect of this that he found ridiculous, but if it made Pitts feel better, than so be it), it was important that they not say anything to the people of Swifton.

  “Can you believe that freaking George?” Danny hooted for about the hundredth time. “This whole time we thought that woman was riding him into the ground and the dirty bastard was loving every minute of it.”

  “I’m gonna miss him,” Jody sighed. “He was always a voice of reason.”

  “It ain’t like you will never see him again.”

  “Yeah…but still, he was one of the first people we met.”

  “Okay…and which part are you having fond memories of?” Danny said with a scowl. “The part where they tried to nab us on horseback like we were escapees in Planet of the Apes, or is it the time they drugged us and tied us up to be interrogated?”

  Jody just shook his head. When he arrived at the entry gate, he was surprised to find a good many of the people living in Hope were waiting. This will make it quick and easy, Jody thought.

  “Have everybody assemble in the gym right away,” Jody called out as he came through the gate.

  He noticed a lot of attention being given to Jess and the others who had friends and family among the girls that had been sent to Swifton. What he didn’t notice, and now realized that it was blatantly absent, was any sign of the women from the other community. A dose of something close to fear pumped into his system.

  He saw Selina and waded through the crowd to get by her side. As soon as he was close enough, he asked, “Where are they?”

  “Who?” Selina asked innocently, pulling up short when she saw the expression on Jody’s face.

  “You know who,” he practically snarled. “The women?”

  Selina’s eyes widened as she seemed to suddenly understand. “Oh…they are all over at the school. They have some really neat ideas for teaching the little ones how to work in a garden and think it is a game.” She came to Jody and placed her hands on his chest. “Did you think something had been done to them?”

  Jody remained silent and Selina pushed away enough to look up at him and make direct eye contact. “Folks here are not that way, Jody. We may have some problems with everything that is going on, but these people…just like the folks at Bald Knob…they ain’t like that…like what you think.”

  Jody felt embarrassed and dropped his head. Selina took his hand and they walked to the gym together. As they did, he filled her in on what was proposed.

  “So, do you think that they will go for it?”

  “I think they are going to absolutely love it!” Selina all but squealed. “If this is for real, you are talking about two communities coming together, building towards each other and sharing instead of taking. What more could folks want in times like these?”

  Jody sat outside the school, w
aiting for the last of the stragglers to file in. Selina sat beside him, holding his hand. She kept pointing out some of the highlights of what he had shared and exclaiming that it was the best news that she thought anybody had heard in the past year.

  At last it looked like everybody was inside. Jody stood, but Selina turned him to her one more time. “You will be seen as a hero…I might have to fight the girls off after this.”

  “All I did was talk to Pitts, we sorted things out in a way that we felt would be the most likely to benefit everybody and give us a chance to live…not just survive,”

  “And that is why you are a hero,” Selina said cheerfully as she walked with Jody into the school.

  The halls were empty and there was a hush. It was almost eerily quiet. Jody opened the door to the gym and saw the bleachers full of expectant faces. A round of “shushing” noises echoed in the cavernous room. Jody let the door shut behind him. As it clanged, Danny stood and started clapping. It was joined by ones and twos until the entire crowd was a solid wall of sound.

  Jody glanced at Danny with an arched eyebrow. The man just winked and put his fingers to his mouth in order to let loose a piercing wolf whistle. Figures that guy can’t keep a secret, Jody mused as he walked to the small stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Jody shouted above the din as loud as he could, “I bring you an offering of peace…”

  And a special treat for those that have not yet read TW Brown’s Zomblog series – here is the first chapter of the first book…Zomblog

  Zomblog

  Book 1 of the Zomblog Trilogy

  TW Brown

  Cover art by Whitney Phu

  * * * * *

  Published by:May December Publications LLC

  2009 May December Publications LLC

  Split-tree logo a registered trademark of May December Publications LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or May December Publications LLC.

  For Denise, my wife and my strength

  And Ms. Bose, the teacher who said, “Write!”

  * * * * *

  Author’s Note

  Let me introduce myself…

  No writer of zombie fiction can pen an acknowledge-ment of thanks to everybody who helps or gave support without mentioning The Godfather of the American Zombie…George A. Romero. “All hail the king!”

  I’ve always been curious about those seemingly self-serving author’s acknowledgment pages. Now I understand. No writer can do this alone, and to not say “Thank you” is kinda rude. And I already know that I’ll miss somebody, so to you…the person I miss…I thank you first!

  Now…I have to thank Michael DeNoma for “one more proof reading”. Hopefully we caught most of the glitches. Ian Lohrman, for listening to his deranged “roommate” ramble on endlessly about zombies as well as doing his best to stay awake as I read my drafts out loud. All my readers and critics at Fanfiction.com and Fictionpress.com who encouraged and supported me and let me know that it was time to get this done. To “Mindy” and “Piggy” for being excited about this experience. To my favorite zombie writers who don’t know I exist but inspire me with their stories: Tony Monchinski, Rhiannon Frater, David Wellington, Brian Keene, and Kim Paffenroth.

  There are two people who really made this happen and deserve special thanks. The first is my college writing instructor, Ms. Mardel James-Bose. It was in her creative writing class that she told me to “just go for it and write what you love!” I doubt this is what she had in mind. The second is my wife, Denise. I save the best for last. I will never be able to express adequate thanks for all you do. Your belief never faltered, even when all I had were doubts. The editing, finding maps, “mood music” (Goblin and Future Sounds of London) and just listening to my endless yammering. This book is as much yours as mine.

  Now…enough of the real world

  “Please to enjoy.”

  TW Brown

  November 2009

  Prologue

  Saturday, December 29

  Greetings. My name is Samuel Todd. I live in a suburb of a fairly large northwestern city. I am the guy who delivers your papers early in the wee hours of the morning and I gotta say...you see some pretty hairy shit in the middle of the night when all the “normal” folks are in bed.

  I’ve been a fan of the internet since Q-Link, that may give away my age but that’s cool. So, I finally decided to start a blog. With some of the stuff I’ve seen, hell...I thought about writing a book, but I don’t have the—

  What is it that writers have?

  (Besides talent smarty pants)

  Determination?

  Drive?

  Stick-to-it-iveness.

  Yep. That’s it.

  Instead, I’ve decided to just ramble on and share my odd adventures and observations. A few things about me. I’m single. Well, actually, I’m divorced. Twice. I have a daughter from marriage number two. Elizabeth Marie. She goes by Beth, has since she was seven. She’s an insane fourteen this most recent December 15th. Every year for her birthday, I get the guys in our little band “The Stupid Muses” together. We put the phone on speaker and I sing that KISS song, Beth. It’s cheesy, but I still get away with it due to it being tradition. The first three years I did it in our garage. Mine and Erin’s (Erin is Elizabeth’s mom). My daughter would sit on the washing machine with her little hands clasped under her chin and just beam. Her curly dark brown hair framed her perfectly oval face and those hazel eyes actually sparkled.

  I’m drifting off the deep end, aren’t I? Sorry, but when it comes to daddy’s little girl, I get a bit misty.

  In a nutshell, that is my life.

  Besides delivering the newspaper, I play guitar and sing in a small-time band. Mostly we do parties, reunions and stuff. It doesn’t pay much, but I make enough to get by and still keep up on my child support. Erin never trips if I’m late. She knows I’m good for it. She and I still get along okay. When it comes to Elizabeth, our little Beth, differences are set aside. It’s not our daughter’s fault that her parents couldn’t spend longer than an hour together without verbally shredding each other.

  Anyways, it’s getting late so I gotta get to the Center and get my load of papers. I picked today to start this blog because the craziest shit is on New Year’s and full moons. Check with me tomorrow and hopefully I’ll have something juicy..

  Chapter 1

  Tuesday, January 1

  Holy crap! What a night I’ve had! This is why I decided to start blogging...

  I arrived at just after 2:30 a.m. to pick up the papers for my route. We had two no-shows so Gabriel (this old Mexican who has been delivering papers for like 20 years!) and I split the routes which was kind of a drag. But it happens every year. That is one thing you folks who walk out in your jammies and scoop up your paper each day don’t realize. Even more than the mailman, we HAVE to deliver despite rain, sleet, snow...or drunken no-shows. Some folks say that the internet is killing the daily paper. I think that’s a load of crap. Nothing replaces flippin’ to your favorite section over a steaming cup of coffee. Plus, I love me some Get Fuzzy.

  Anyways, I load up and check the extra route list so I can economize my trip as much as possible. The cost of gas is what will kill the morning paper way before the internet does. I roll out and pass the annual DUI parade complete with flashing lights and circus clowns trying in utter futility to pass field sobriety tests. I pull into this apartment complex. Real nice sorta upscale place. I get out to unload about ten papers at the office/rec center and hear this noise coming from
one of the covered parking lots. Sure as hell, one of our local television news team has herself bent over the hood of this shiny silver Lexus. I recognize her right away only because it is the station I always watch as I’m eating dinner. Her milky white skin practically glows in the dark! And the words coming out of her mouth are a drunken slur of everything she can’t say in front of the camera at 5 and 6:30 p.m.! I am tuning in tonight for sure with a whole new perspective!

  Other than that…saw loads of drunks pissing in dark corners, a good share of teenage kids puking (happy freakin’ New Year!) and one nasty accident that signaled the end of the line for at least one idiot.

  So here’s a question—what possesses folks after all the stats, stories and movies-of-the-week to still get behind the wheel of a car and crank it up after getting looped? If drunk drivers were charged with murder, would it deter anybody? People argue that murder has to be done with forethought. Ain’t nobody goes out and ties one on by mistake.

  Well, I’ve got a day of Bowl games to watch. My baby-girl, Beth, she’s bringing her new boyfriend over to watch the games with dad. That’s the closest thing to a date she’s gonna get…at least until she turns sixteen. I plan on doing a lot of cheering…and glaring.

  Wednesday, January 2

  Simple question. What the hell is wrong with kids these days? When I went to a girlfriend’s parents’ house… I was a damned saint. “Yes sir.” “No ma’am.” “Lovely house, Mrs. Casteel.” “How ‘bout them Blazers?”

  This kid was using his tongue like a dipstick in my daughter’s throat. ON! MY! COUCH! I stood there like an idiot for like ten seconds! Now I’m the asshole. Can you believe it? Is our society that far gone? If it is, somebody please hit the RESET button.