The Dead Series (Book 2): Dead Is All You Get

by Steven Ramirez

  We ran as hard as we could, burdened with weapons and heavy backpacks. My lungs ached and sweat streamed into my eyes, nearly blinding me. When I looked up, the drone was gone. I was faster than Holly and had to slow down for fear of losing her.

  “Dave!” Holly said. I turned.

  Griffin lay halfway up the road on the forest floor. The horde was approaching fast.

  “Don’t leave me!” Griffin said.

  I hurried back down and grabbed an arm as Holly took the other.

  “Never,” Holly said.

  A dragger—a middle-aged Japanese woman with painted-on eyebrows—grabbed Griffin’s foot and yanked her towards it, its mouth open incredibly wide, ready to bite. Holly and I slipped on the pine needles and went down on our knees while the dog went after the attacker. As the filthy wretch pulled the screaming Griffin closer, its eyeballs spinning in their sockets, Greta tore at its hands and neck. Warnick and Springer appeared and sent half its head flying towards a tree. The rest of its skull dropped and its body followed. I unslung my axe and hacked off the arm as the still-grasping claw clung to Griffin’s ankle.

  “Get it off!” she said, kicking violently.

  “Hang on!”

  The thing felt cold in my hands. I pried the crablike appendage off and checked Griffin’s ankle. The skin wasn’t broken. Holly and I got her to her feet and started up again.

  A few minutes more and we were at the top of the ridge with the others. Then we heard it. Tom Petty’s “American Girl” came blasting out of the sky like high-pitched thunder. I couldn’t believe what I saw below.

  Black Dragon soldiers on bright red ATVs streamed towards us like angry wasps. There must have been a hundred of them. The noise from their vehicles was deafening. They shot past us over the ridge towards the horde. Using AR-15s, they mowed down ravening draggers like screaming wildgrass. Others double-teamed and, with heavy iron chains strung taut between them, pulled down whole lines of the creatures while more followed and, using shotguns, blasted their heads to sawdust.

  The tops of the trees swayed and dust and pine needles churned around us as black helicopters with the familiar Black Dragon logo circled the area—one of them pounding the song out through its speakers. I didn’t know if the music was meant for the draggers or for the troops.

  Not far off below was a clearing. One of the choppers set down there, the blades still beating, and a tall, uniformed African-American man jumped out and jogged towards us. He was around fifty, with short greying hair and a clean-shaven face. His only weapon was a handgun.

  “We need to get you out of here,” he said, looking at Warnick and Springer. “Now!”

  “Whoo! It’s the damned cavalry,” Holly said.

  The man smiled and waved us towards the helicopter.

  “What about the rest of my men?” Warnick said.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of the others. This dog coming too?”

  “Yes,” Griffin said, already leading Greta towards the aircraft.

  Once we were aboard, the helicopter roared off and we were away. Below I watched as the ATVs plowed through the horde, taking them out by the dozens. A few of the soldiers weren’t so lucky, though—draggers yanked them off their vehicles and consumed them.

  As I caught my breath, Holly tugged at my sleeve. I followed her eyes.

  Evie Champagne, the reporter we’d sought out in the forest, stared at me with haunted eyes. The last time we’d seen her was with her cameraman Jeff over a VTC connection in the Arkon building, their wooden faces staring silently on the large TV monitor as we tried to communicate without sound. Now, a grey blanket lay over her shoulders. She looked shell-shocked. I hadn’t been sure I’d ever see her again after that videoconference when they’d had to escape to God knows where.

  We’d gotten so used to seeing her on the local news in her smart suits and black stilettos, going to places where she shouldn’t and digging up story after story as the outbreak spread. Now, even with her hair tangled and her clothes in shreds, her powerful presence filled the cabin. But where was Jeff?

  She leaned forward and, lowering her voice, spoke into my ear. “Glad we found you,” she said. “I have so much to tell you.”

  APPROACHING THE SCHOOL, we passed over residential streets where lone draggers wandered like lost souls. We landed on the high school football field. Tan camo-colored Humvees and large military vehicles—LMTVs—bearing the Black Dragon logo moved along the roads surrounding the school. Hundreds of fresh Black Dragon soldiers protected the area, wearing helmets and body armor and carrying AR-15s. A few draggers had made it to the school and pressed up against the chain link. Soldiers patrolling the fence line on ATVs took them out with bayonets. I assumed the bodies would be burned in a pit like all the others we’d seen since summer, but I could no longer smell the foul, greasy smoke that had hung in the air for weeks. In fact, the air smelled clean.

  Climbing out of the helicopter, we made our way towards the main campus. There were no signs of the draggers we’d escaped from only days earlier when we’d made a full assault on the Red Militia and rescued Griffin from her stepfather, and where the militia’s leader Ormand Ferry had died. It looked like Black Dragon had brought in reinforcements and regained control of the property and turned it into a clean, organized command center.

  As we strode across the grass, I saw workers in coveralls patching and painting the bullet-scarred walls of the buildings. Others replaced outdoor lights and tended to the greenery that dotted the landscape. Another soldier approached Warnick and Springer and said something I couldn’t make out. They followed him off in another direction, and we followed our escort.

  Up ahead I saw a row of large, black trailers in the parking lot. Long lines of civilians queued up in front of each one.

  “What are those?” I said to the soldier escorting us.

  “Mobile medical units. We’re testing everyone for the virus.”

  “There’s a test?”

  “Finally.”

  “And if they’re infected?”

  “We put them in an isolation ward.”

  “Where?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “What if they’re well?”

  “We’re using the gym as an evac center again. If they develop symptoms later, we transfer them out.”

  In the beginning, when all this had started and Black Dragon had taken control of the town, the gym had been converted to an evac center. But when things went sideways, it became a charnel house. I broke away and headed straight for it. The last time I’d been here, it had been infested with draggers and smelled like meat rot. Now, the doors were open and bright lights shone inside, giving the place a cheery atmosphere. So I went in.

  The interior was clean and smelled of disinfectant. They’d set up coffee stations on either side in front of the bleachers. A sea of army surplus cots and blankets stood in neat rows in the middle of the floor. Civilians sat at round banquet tables, playing games and chatting. They were all ages and included children, some of whom belly-laughed their way through a game of Twister. Though armed soldiers stood watch along the perimeter, the mood was relaxed. I remembered searching for Holly here, when we were separated and I didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. And I also remembered Mrs. Hough, an old neighbor whose mind had faded and who I’d tried to help. She’d been lost to the draggers.

  Holly and the others joined me.

  “It’s like it never happened,” I said. I ran my fingers down the freshly painted doors. No sign of blood anywhere.

  Far off, I recognized Eddie Greely, the owner of the skating rink where I’d almost died in Chavez’s twisted version of sudden death. He was frail but alive. When he saw me, he waved. I started towards him, but our escort took my arm.

  “We need to test you.”

  As I turned to leave, a girl let out a scream that sent shards of glass down my spine. Soldiers ran to where she was playing with the others. She pointed underneath the bleachers
. Dropping to his knees, the soldier peered into the shadows and signaled for the children to move away. Then he reached way back and pulled something out.

  It was a severed hand.

  The escort led us towards one of the MMUs and to the front of the line. Holly instructed Greta to wait for us outside. The German shepherd lay down near the steps, wearing that disappointed look that only a dog can manage, and rested her head on her paws. A young girl tried to pet her, but a woman took her hand and gently pulled her away.

  “Careful,” the woman said.

  Inside lay an impressive array of medical equipment and electronics. A physician’s assistant guided us in and proceeded to perform a series of standard tests—the kind you would expect during a routine physical. After our exams, phlebotomists drew vials of blood from each of us.

  “You’ve identified the virus?” I said to the physician’s assistant.

  “We have.”

  “But there’s no vaccine, right?”

  “No—I wish.”

  Though I didn’t think any of us was infected—through sheer luck and God’s good grace—I worried that the possibility existed, and it frightened me.

  Evie sat next to me, her bare arm extended, as they inserted the needle.

  “Where did they pick you up?” I said.

  “Along one of the fire roads.”

  “Thanks for alerting the troops. Did you ever make it to—”

  “Not here.” She smiled at the phlebotomist. “I can’t wait to take a hot shower.” The guy smiled.

  “How long before we know?” I said to the phlebotomist.

  “A couple hours.”

  “What about communications?”

  “Cell service is still out.”

  “Internet?”

  “Tits up.” Then to Evie, “Sorry.”

  “Trust me, I’ve heard so much worse,” she said.

  After we finished the exam, they led us into the administration building, where the grey-haired man who’d rescued us stood waiting, along with Warnick and Springer. The guy seemed genuinely pleased to see us.

  “Kelly Pederman,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m the new supervisor.”

  “So I guess you heard about Chavez,” I said.

  He made eye contact with Warnick and cleared his throat. “A tragic loss.”

  “Yeah, tragic.”

  An uncomfortable silence polluted the air. I looked at Warnick. His face was like smooth stone. What had he and Springer told this guy about us?

  “We’ll have the results of your tests shortly,” Pederman said. “In the meantime, I’d like to extend what hospitality we can. Anyone hungry?”

  They led us into a conference room to wait for the results. Greta accompanied us again and stayed close to Griffin. Shortly after, they brought actual food—not the MREs we’d come to loathe these past few weeks. We had our choice of McDonald’s Egg McMuffins or pancakes with bacon and coffee and orange juice.

  “It’s stupid, but I’ve been, like, craving McDonald’s,” Griffin said and tossed a handful of bacon to Greta.

  “I’ll catch up with you folks later,” Pederman said. On his way out he instructed another soldier to bring a bowl of water for the dog.

  “What happened to Jeff?” I said to Evie after the soldier left.

  Evie looked at me strangely, her eyes distant, as if struggling to ward off the memory traces of a bad dream. “He didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead. He was a stand up guy. Never complained, no matter how bad things got. And trust me, I’m no picnic.”

  “Sounds like a great guy,” Holly said.

  As we ate, I watched Evie. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I knew this wasn’t the time. I could tell she didn’t trust these people. But they were the authorities. Did she think there was still a rogue element at work? I didn’t think so, but she was a reporter with amazing instincts. How else could she have survived so long without weapons? But I did ask her one question.

  “Is there hope?” I said.

  She thought about that a long while and smiled. “There’s always hope. It’s what I’ve traded on my whole life. That and a good story.”

  After our meal, we relaxed as best we could in the leatherette chairs that school districts can almost afford. When I closed my eyes, vivid images of these past months played through my brain like a disjointed slide show without music. I saw myself skating on the ice at Happier Times, desperate to keep away from Missy Soldado who, reduced to a hungry skeleton covered in leathery skin, was hell-bent on devouring me as crazed soldiers hooted and whistled. I saw Chavez, the former supervisor, dying in a pool of blood, his skull crushed by a pipe wrench. And that kid Barnes whimpering in the corner of a different conference room in another building across town, his right leg chewed to shit, the life lazily leeching from his body to be replaced by a more vicious life of feasting on other people.

  I saw armies of the undead surging like a red tide through Tres Marias, backlit by the angry roaring fires of pit-bound burning bodies. I saw everything that had gone wrong since that first night with my friend Jim, when he’d died in my car but wouldn’t stay dead. I saw his enormous dog Perro, bloody and rabid, panting in the cold night air, waiting patiently. For me.

  Finally, I saw Nina Zimmer’s baby daughter, Evan, smiling and happy. Her face warmed me, reminding me that there might still be hope.

  When I opened my eyes, Pederman stood in the doorway holding a pile of sealed manila envelopes.

  “Well,” he said as he handed each of us our results. “You’re all clean.”

  “Thank God,” Holly said and squeezed my hand.

  “It’s pretty unusual, considering what you’ve been through these last few months.”

  “What happens now?” Holly said.

  “Well, Warnick and Springer are on the payroll, so they’ll be getting their assignments.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. We were not only a team but a family. We’d survived together and saved peoples’ lives. Now it was over?

  “And us? The three of us and Warnick and Springer are a team,” I said. “We fought together.”

  “I understand how you feel, Dave. But we’re in charge, now. Things will have to change.”

  “Where will you send us?” Holly said. “It’s not like we can go home.”

  “Mrs. Pulaski …”

  “Holly, please.”

  “Holly. I’d like you and Dave to step into my office.”

  “I can’t leave Griffin,” Holly said. She was already on her feet in that mini-power stance I knew so well. Evie watched her—she seemed amused.

  “Holly, I’ll be fine,” Griffin said.

  Warnick stood. “Springer and I aren’t going anywhere at the moment.”

  Holly relented and, as Pederman led us out of the conference room, glanced at Griffin. She seemed relaxed, stroking Greta’s head. We continued down the hall to the principal’s office.

  “Have a seat,” Pederman said.

  I remembered this office. The smell of stale coffee and Mennen Skin Bracer. The photos of countless school functions and awards banquets. I saw my old science teacher and friend Irwin Landry in one of the photos, shaking a grinning student’s hand at a science fair. The familiar steely blue eyes, hawk nose and shock of white hair. My heart ached as I thought about how he’d died. Infected. Finished off with a bullet to the brain.

  The last time I’d sat in this office, the principal had warned me that I might not graduate. He’d told me “in confidence” that my mother had called him expressing her concern. Though her illness had advanced to the point where she couldn’t easily leave the house, she’d never stopped pressuring me to succeed at something.

  “Let’s get those grades up, huh, Dave?” he said. “You don’t want to disappoint your mother.”

  He was a prick and I hated him, but the approach worked. I’d managed to squeak by and get the cap and g
own, with my dying mother as witness. Though my parents were now long dead, that was one regret in a pile of regrets I wouldn’t have to slink by with.

  “So what’s this about?” I said as Holly and I sat.

  Pederman smiled professionally. “Considering everything that’s happened, I get that you don’t trust me, Dave. I’m confident I can earn your trust.”

  “Are we in trouble?” Holly said.

  Pederman laughed. It was full and deep and made me dislike him a little less. “Far from it. Did either of you ever serve in the military? I couldn’t find anything in the files.”

  “No,” I said. “Why?”

  “Well, because for a couple of civilians, you’ve both proven to be more than capable under fire.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Warnick must have been up front about everything that happened.

  “We’ve made a number of corrections to our program. We’ve weeded out a few … uh … misfits and are rebuilding the organization. We lost a lot of good people in this operation, but I think in many ways we’re stronger. I’m sure you’ve noticed it.” He waited for us to agree.

  “I guess,” Holly said.

  I leaned in. “How were you able to turn this place around so fast?”

  “As you know, Dave, most of us are ex-military. And the military knows how to get things done.”

  He rose and came around the desk. Took a seat on the edge directly in front of us. It was awkward, but he had our attention.

  “Would you consider coming to work for us?” he said.

  Holly was stunned. “Wait, what?”

  Pederman laughed again, then became serious. “I’m prepared to make you both an offer. We’re one of the few companies who provide a full pension. And the medical is awesome.” He was looking at Holly when he said this—I wondered why. “We have a robust bonus structure …”