Attack helicopters strafed overhead and launched their missiles into the mass of undead surging from the south. The air shook and his ear drums vibrated, but he didn’t give a shit, the mass of body parts left behind put a spring in his step.
“Sir, speaking of Comanches—,” the Sergeant began.
“There ain’t no damn Comanches in these parts, ya damn retard,” he snarled, knowing the man was not referring to the helicopters that were even now using their mini-guns to lance the remnants of undead unwilling to just roll over and die—or whatever the fuck they did the second time.
Young eyes widened and he knew the man wanted to retort, but actually bit his tongue and shook his head. “No Sir, of course Sir. What I meant was, the Chiricahua have asked to join the fight. Their Chief has been asking to speak with you.”
“That’s what we need, a bunch of Indians running around with tomahawks and longbows,” he growled, images of his childhood springing to life of his brother in a feathered headdress and plastic axe.
“Uh, Sir, they are armed with rifles, not longbows, Sir,” the man corrected.
He turned to glare at the man, making the Sergeant drop his gaze and fidget. Taking the cigar in hand, he flicked the ash then jammed it back in his mouth. “I thought they were over in Los Lunas. What the fuck are they doing back here?”
“They’ve been using the Chiricahua mountains to hide from the undead, Sir,” the Sergeant answered, eyes diverting to a large Native American man standing ten feet to their right.
“Using those boulders to herd the undead and thin their ranks. Heh, sounds like they’re fucking smarter than these greenhorns I got fighting down there. Tell him I’ll speak to him,” he answered, then smirked. The United States Army and the Indians, fighting side by side to kill the undead invaders, who would have thought that would ever fucking happen?
Southport, North Carolina
With the panic to run home, no one had stayed behind to power down the reactors at the Nuclear Power Plant. The world was ending, what the hell did it matter? They were all going to die anyway. Most figured someone else would get it and what no one realized was, the same thought occurred to everyone else.
The plant was left to live or die on its own—abandoned to its fate.
The safety systems should have automatically engaged, but a glitch in the programming instigated a series of fault codes that prevented an automated response. The reactors experienced a cascade of failures and even if someone had been standing there, they couldn’t have stopped it.
At 7:03 a.m., on September 11th, 2021, twenty years after the attacks on the two towers, the plant began to meltdown and spew radiation into the atmosphere.
The living had long since departed either by sea or deep into the western mountains. Undead for miles around began trouncing towards the abandoned plant, the noise drawing them closer, as an explosion rocked the countryside and incinerated everything in its path.
Chapter 1
Tell it to me again
Todd
Safford, AZ
“You know, you scared the shit out of Sabrina,” he told his cousin, his fingers stroking his temples slowly. He had been given some Tylenol to help with the headache, but it hadn’t kicked in yet. He tried to smile, but his stern face rebelled; he was exhausted. Sitting there in his gear, the black rubber suit felt snug and was beginning to feel molded to his body. His fingers had created red marks at the edge of his wrist where he had been pulling at it, irritating the raw skin. His short brown hair was not willing to lay down. He had been wearing a ballcap to hide it, but the headache increased with the pressure around his temples, so it sat unused on the table next to his chair.
His mind drifted over the events of the last couple of hours. He wanted to go back to that moment, before he got that phone call about Monica running off to Washington, before he found out that Robert was alive and in Safford with his cousin’s family. When all had felt glorious and Rosilynn’s body had been impaled by his. Everything had felt hopeful and beginning to go right for once, but nothing in this world could last.
Rosilynn was asleep in the next room, exhaustion had overtaken her and swept her away. They should be on the move, headed back home to their new home, but they didn’t know what they’d be driving into. They’d felt that coming here to the hospital was the best course of action; intel needed to be collected before they could make an informed decision of what to do next.
“I’m sorry,” Michelle told him, her long brown hair pulled back behind her shoulders, brown eyes fixed on his hazel ones. She was adorned in blue scrubs, her eyes diverting to a nearby monitor as she continually checked the vitals of the patient lying in the bed before her.
He almost wished that she would leave, he’d flatline those vitals in a heartbeat. At least, that’s what he told himself when he got there. Now, he wasn’t so sure. There were a lot of questions that needed to be answered, and he needed the man alive long enough to get them. After that? No promises.
He sighed heavily, pushed his hands against his knees and looked at her squarely so that she knew how serious he was. “This man is not the hero you are making him out to be,” he told as sternly as possible, eyes flashing upon the large black man sleeping in the hospital bed. Robert’s bald head had a bandage wrapped around it and briefly he wished for a coma for the man to never wake up from. He had been struck in the head from the rear, and though no skin was broken or lasting damage found, they felt it necessary to cushion it anyways. Probably a concussion, nothing more. The bastard had the luck of the Irish.
What angered him even more was that even after everything that the man had been put through, he was still breathing. This monster, this—homicidal maniac got to live, while Rodger and his family were getting cremated; having never hurt a soul between the lot of them. Why did the good people in the world die while creatures like this fuck got to live?
Robert had come out of surgery an hour before he got there, a punctured spleen had been removed and the man was so doped up, he hadn’t even stirred once during their conversation. He wanted to take a pillow and smother him, but the confused look Michelle was giving him gave him pause. What exactly happened to engender such devotion? The man was a cold-blooded murderer; a psychopath that deserved nothing but a quick death and an unmarked grave.
Her husband, also named Robert, had gone off to check on their children. They had apparently been held hostage in the nearby Wal-Mart and were still badly shaken by the whole ordeal. They should be in school, not held at gunpoint deprived of their parents. On the other hand, it could have been worse. They could have been forced to fight in those grisly arena games he had been told about.
How did such evil exist, much less spiral into horrific tragedies with not even a week gone since the whole thing began?
“He didn’t fight in that horror show you described for the sake of this town. He did it to survive long enough to come after me and mine; to kill us all. It was not a selfless act. If he’s after this Renny guy, it’s for what was done to him, not for what was done to any of you,” he told her, trying to reach through this fog the whole town seemed to be wrapped up in.
From what she had described, most of the people had fled the instant it became apparent that something was going on, thinking that the towns to the south were smaller and less likely to have an outbreak. Those that remained, that refused to leave their homes, had either died from zombie attacks, or been corralled by the gangbangers that had moved in shortly thereafter.
LTC, that’s what they called them back in Tucson. The Little Town Crips. They ruled most of the neighborhoods on the South Side of Tucson, and he had dodged many attempts to chase him down during his school years; enough so that he was able to run cross country with very little effort and sweat.
Their leader, Renny, was supposedly on the run. The worst part? Apparently, he was also gunning for their compound, after hearing of its existence from one of Robert’s lackeys. Just another crisis this man had caused; another
threat against the people he held most dear.
She came to sit on the edge of his bed and gripped his hand. “You don’t know what it was like, even words can’t describe it. What he went through, I can’t imagine. You haven’t seen the bruises, the scars. We did a thorough examination, want to see his chart? He’s suffering from malnutrition, has deep wounds on his wrist and ankles from shackles, has been beaten beyond comprehension, suffered two broken ribs, a head contusion, a bruised clavicle, a herniated disc, and one or more of those monsters raped him so badly that they tore skin and nearly ruptured his colon. And all of that? It’s just what we can see from the outside, there’s no telling how damaged he is mentally. They tortured the man, continually put him in life and death situations, and still he persevered. It was inspiring enough that our people rose up and fought, despite the fear that made them virtual slaves from the second those monsters rolled into town.”
He listened, bobbing his head as she talked, but he still wasn’t buying it. In fact, it almost pleased him to hear how much crap had been done to him. He felt a sadistic need to add his own bit into it; there was a debt owed. “I would like to sympathize, but I can’t. When I look at him I see my uncle and my cousin, just two victims of who knows how many innocents this man has murdered. You weren’t there with us, you didn’t see what he’s done,” he shook his head, fingers gripping her hand tightly, as if trying to will sense into her.
“So there’s no second chances? No chance at redemption? Who knows, he might have changed since you last saw him, maybe for the good? How do you think I knew how to find you? Who do you think told me to warn you about Renny? I had no clue that this stranger would know who you are. What are the odds in that?” she returned, still clinging to her delusions.
“You know, you should have called from your phone when you got the number. You scared the living shit out of Sabrina and she almost sent you to voicemail. She was still freaked out when I talked to her, and I tell you, it takes a lot to accomplish a feat like that,” he remarked, taking his hand from her and bringing a cup of water to his lips.
She smiled weakly in return. “Tell her I’m sorry about that. That wasn’t my intention, it really wasn’t. I didn’t know the circumstances when I called. I had no idea she’d react that way. I didn’t even consider using my own phone. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, once she realized who it was she calmed down a bit. There’s a lot going on right now and it’s got everyone on edge,” he commented, taking another sip and placing the water back on the little table at his side. “Look, I know you stayed here when the others left because you didn’t want to leave home, but it’s time. You can come back with me to our compounds. you’ll all be safer there.”
“How can you say that?” she asked, a sad look upon her face. “I told you, Renny is on his way there. You want us all to chase after the man that’s held us prisoner? Kept our children from us? How is it safer to go with you than wait here and hope he doesn’t return?”
His right hand had begun to stroke his temple again, he really needed a nap. He would not last long with no sleep, it was pure willpower that kept him going. “If they don’t return, it’s because we stopped them. My family is in that compound, my friends, I can’t leave them to die. Sabrina told me that Monica let the paramilitary group we ran into a couple of days ago take over the backup compound, which means we have man power, and people that know how to handle weapons. If we come at them from behind, where they least expect it, we have a chance to end Renny as a threat for good. If we don’t, if you all stay here, you will live in fear of his return and everyone I love may die.”
“You can ask them, I won’t stop you, but I don’t know how many will say yes. They finally got freed of that cretin, they won’t be so eager to go looking for him. I’ll talk to Robert and my parents, see what they want to do. I wouldn’t bring Granny along, maybe leave someone here with her and have her come up later. There’s no way I’d ever allow her anywhere near the fighting you’re talking about starting,” she replied severely, making sure he never questioned her decision on that matter.
“I had no intention of asking that. I’d prefer she stayed behind. She’s my grandmother too,” he returned, cocking his head.
She nodded, satisfied. “You should get some sleep, who knows how long he will be out. I’ll come get you when he’s awake. I know you’re itching to get home, but this is just going to take time. Here, take these anti-biotics. That wound on your face is slightly red and looking inflamed. Though, it’s not a bad stitch job.”
“Time isn’t something I have a lot of,” he said, voice full of regret, “and thank you. Monica did the best she could.”
He had tried not to think about it, but at that very moment his wife was flying north, heading straight for the monster that started all of this, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Whether she lived or died, he may never know; the powerlessness that he felt was too overwhelming and threatened to break him if he let it.
“Go, get some sleep. Then you can check on your Uncle Marvin. He’s three rooms down. Cathy hasn’t left his side since he checked in,” she told him, getting to her feet. “He was suffering some backpain and we had to drain a cyst that was growing on his spine. He should be awake today though, may even be ready to move on. Who knows? He may not have a choice,” she told him sadly, then left the room to go check on her other patients.
He sat there, lost in thought, as he stared at the man lying before him. The anger he felt had subsided somewhat and he was able to control the violent urges his soul insisted upon rendering. So much death, so much hate, and yet his own family was willing to stand by the man’s side. It was like he had stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone.
Chapter 2
Broken
Sabrina
Compound 2
She awoke to the feeling of sun on her face, the rays streaming through the blinds on her left. For the briefest of seconds, she forgot where she was. The bed was comfortable, unlike the stiff one she slept in back home, and she relished the feeling of the central air flowing across her skin. She did not miss having a swamp cooler; not for a second.
As she laid there, half wanting to try and go back to sleep, half needing to get up, she replayed the events that led her to this moment. Most of them horrific and best forgotten rather than relived. Still, it was part of her now and the sooner she learned to accept it, the sooner she could let the anger in her soul go. She knew this, but knowing and doing something about it were two entirely different things.
When she had received that phone call from Robert’s cellphone the night before, she’d nearly had a heart attack. She hadn’t wanted to answer, had fought against it, but in the end, her thumb hit the talk button before her mind caught up to what it was doing. She’d been surprised to hear the desperate voice of the woman on the other end, even more so that it was one of Todd’s family. She had listened, not fully trusting that it wasn’t some trick, and had finally reluctantly promised to call Todd and relay the information given. She had refused to give out his number, despite the woman’s protestations, and had promptly hung up and called the already stressed out man driving furiously to get home.
Not that it mattered, Monica was gone. She had taken off with John, Mark, and Naima, going God knows where, and reportedly on a plane. Where the hell they had gotten one? No one knew, but the paramilitary guys seemed certain that they’d seen one take off and Joseph had been inclined to believe them.
She was torn whenever she envisioned that man. He was strong, well-built, and handsome, but he was also standoffish and seemed disinterested in any of the subtle approaches she had made. Did that mean he wasn’t interested? Did she even want to go there? After what she’d been through over the last four days, she needed a little comfort in her life, but was he the one to give it to her? Then again, what other choices did she have? Manny? No thank you. He was really not her type and he was still nurturing hope that his girlfriend was somehow alive in the
destroyed city of their birth. Anyone else that wasn’t underage had already paired up with someone, outside of that sheriff guy, and she did not want to go there either. Not to mention, pinning your hopes on a man that was on a suicide mission was not the best way to move forward.
There were probably some of those rebel looking guys in the other compound that would suffice in a pinch, but she wasn’t there yet. Anyone that ran off and hide in the woods—She couldn’t finish the thought, because what the hell was she doing herself?
There was a soft knock on the door and Alicia suddenly appeared. She had recently showered, had on a tan T-shirt, blue jeans, her hair combed and pulled back. The length of her hair instantly made Sabrina’s own hands reach up to her lost raven locks and she mentally cursed Todd for making her cut it. It had taken forever to grow that shit out, and apparently it could be put up under a fucking helmet rather than be entirely cut off. Yet, she remembered that mad dash from the Wal-Mart she used to work at, the hands snaring her hair and yanking her back, the teeth pressing against the flesh of her neck. She involuntarily shivered.
“I made some coffee,” Alicia told her, holding up a steaming cup. “Figured you could use some.”
“Oh, thank the Coffee Gods,” she uttered, immediately sitting up and holding her hand out. The younger girl came forward and offered it over. The liquid was warm, the caffeine refreshing, and it instantly went to work waking the rest of her mind up. The fog in her brain started to clear and she smiled gratefully at the teenager. “Thank you.”
“It’s no big,” Alicia answered with a smile. “This house is nicer than the one my parents used to have.” As the words escaped the girl’s mouth, her eyes flashed downward at the meaning of her words and the smile slid into a deepened frown. “I wish I knew if they were alive.”
The Rotting Souls Series (Book 4): Charon's Coffers Page 2
