Dying Days 5

by Armand Rosamilia

"I'm not really... I need to go."

  "I'm Jeff, by the way, in case I didn't tell you before."

  "I'm Lola. Nice to meet you. I'll see you around."

  Jeff stepped out of her way and put his hands in his pockets. "Yes, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you ever just want to talk, let me know. We can all use friends, right? And if you want a cold beer, a smoke or a shot of whiskey, you know where to find me."

  Lola stared at Jeff for nearly a minute before finally speaking again. "What kind of whiskey?"

  Jeff tried not to smile and acted casual. He'd hooked her. "I have six bottles left, from the bar, that are about half full, but I have an unopened case of Jameson Irish hidden behind the bar. I really hate drinking alone, to be honest."

  Lola smiled. "I guess one drink won't hurt. Lead the way."

  Jeff asked her a bunch of inane questions as they went to the bar, feigning interest when Lola told him all about where she grew up and what she was doing when the world went to shit. He nodded when he had to, laughed when she did, and didn't hear a real word she was saying. It didn't matter to Jeff.

  "I'll get the glasses and you get any bottle you want from behind the bar," Jeff said once they'd gone inside. He quietly locked the door behind him.

  "Where? It's dark in here," Lola said.

  "I'll turn on the lights. The bar is to your left," Jeff said.

  He didn't go to the light panel, instead following Lola and scooping up one of the wooden barstools as he moved.

  Just as she rounded the counter Jeff struck, slamming her over the head and back with the chair, careful not to kill her just yet.

  Lola fell to the ground and Jeff pounced, putting his full weight onto her back and covering her mouth once he was in position.

  She struggled but she was still stunned by the attack. Jeff pulled out one of his knives with his free hand and touched it to her face.

  "If you scream, I will carve you up, do you understand?"

  Lola nodded.

  "We're going to have some fun and then I'll let you live," Jeff lied.

  Chapter Twelve

  "I didn't catch your name," Mitchell said to the loud guy as they sat behind a couple of abandoned cars in the mall parking lot. They'd taken their time, circling the block and coming in behind the mall. The food court was towards the front but, if they could find a back entrance, maybe they could get inside and see what they were dealing with.

  Mitchell knew he needed to tread lightly if he wanted to survive today. He was positive Jeff had put a hit out on his head, judging by the way Red Shirt wouldn't look at him and answered his questions slowly. The guy was unnerved and Mitchell was sure he'd been given the ultimatum: come back to Main Street alone or don't come back.

  Instead of simply shooting both guys and being done with it, Mitchell decided it would make more sense to use them to get inside the mall and use the pair as human shields if need be.

  Mitchell hoped he wasn't being stupid and underestimating the pair.

  "I didn't give you my name," the loud guy said. "And I don't want to know your name. Who gives a shit? Let's just do what we gotta do and get back to the group."

  "Great to meet you," Mitchell said. "This is going to be fun. Let's just get this over with so we can get moving."

  "What's the plan?" Red Shirt asked, not looking at Mitchell.

  "He Who Has No Name will go and make sure the coast is clear," Mitchell said.

  "No fucking way. I'm not going to get shot in the back."

  "Wow. You don't trust us? After all we've been through?" Mitchell asked with a smirk. "I don't fucking trust you, either. This could be a trap. Maybe your butt buddies are inside waiting to kill us... or worse."

  The guy looked pissed. "I'm not a gay."

  "You can be anything you want, Princess. But if you try to mess with us we'll put a fucking bullet in your head. Get it? This is your deal, not ours. So stop the pansy shit and go open the back door before we're spotted. A sniper on the roof will kill all three of us in seconds," Mitchell said.

  His tough words seemed to work because the guy got up, stayed hunched over, and ran across the parking lot to the back loading dock of Sears.

  Mitchell casually moved a few inches to his right, keeping Red Shirt in his peripheral vision. Now he had two foes spread out and didn't want to have either of them get the jump. And who knew what was hiding in the mall.

  He swore, when he returned, he was going to find a way to eliminate Jeff.

  "Your turn," Mitchell said to Red Shirt when the other guy got to the back door and opened it, waving at them to come to him.

  "After you," Red Shirt said.

  "Do it or I'll be forced to tell The Lich Lord you didn't follow an order. You forget who's in charge today," Mitchell said.

  Red Shirt got up slowly, looking around like he was going to be shot at any moment, and lumbered across the parking lot. Mitchell waited until he was almost at the back door before he got up and ran at full sprint, nearly catching up with Red Shirt. The guy was even slower than he looked.

  "I don't see anyone inside," the loud guy said.

  "Why is the back door just open? This is definitely a trap," Mitchell said.

  "Then what do you want to do?" Red Shirt asked. The look on his face told Mitchell he wanted to be told they were abandoning this course of action and going back to Main Street. That wasn't an option.

  "We spring the trap and hope we don't die," Mitchell said.

  Mitchell motioned for the two men to walk but they hesitated. When Mitchell raised his weapon and aimed it at both of them, they got the message.

  "You go first, fat boy," the loud guy said to Red Shirt.

  "You can both go first. We're in a side hallway in Sears. I'm sure this leads to the offices. But the longer we argue about marching order the more chance we have of being caught and killed. So start marching," Mitchell said.

  The three men headed down the hallway, one eye looking for danger and the other on the men with them.

  If we get into a firefight, I need to make sure I don't get hit with friendly fire, Mitchell thought. He also needed to be in a position to return friendly fire and kill both of these men, too.

  Sears was a mess, with ripped clothing littering the floor and the displays torn apart. Mitchell shook his head as they made their way over and around the destruction. It was one thing to loot and take everything, but this seemed senseless to him. If he had time, he would search the store for anything of value, but right now they were heading into the main corridor of the mall.

  He motioned for them to stop as they got outside the Sears entrance.

  "Where is the food court, to the left?" Mitchell asked the annoying guy.

  Annoying guy nodded.

  The roof to the right had collapsed, crushing a shoe store underneath. Orange sneaker boxes spilled out into the main hallway but they could move around it with ease.

  Mitchell kept watching for movement. He hoped they could sneak up on the group holed up in this mall and get the jump on them.

  They got to the main intersection, annoying guy and Red Shirt a few steps ahead of Mitchell, when the shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed area and the broken silence.

  But it wasn't an attack from a hidden enemy.

  Annoying guy had shot Red Shirt in the stomach before running down the dark corridor of the mall.

  Mitchell sighed and began the pursuit.

  * * * * *

  Darlene dreamed of running on the beach with John, the baby in her arms as they laughed and kicked sand. The couple, smiling, was trying to find a suitable name for the baby boy.

  "I say John and we can call him Junior," Darlene said, lightly touching the baby's nose.

  "When he gets older, we'll call him Murph like my dad," John said.

  Darlene grinned. "I like it." The baby scrunched his face and began to cry. "I think his gums hurt." She put her finger into his mouth, running it across his swollen gums. Did she already feel teeth trying to poke through
?

  The baby bit her, teeth appearing like daggers. The pain was excruciating. His eyes glowed red and the baby began to feast on her finger.

  "Are you alright?" Taylor asked Darlene as she woke, jumping up out of the bed.

  "What? Huh?" Darlene was disoriented and wobbled on her feet.

  Taylor helped her sit down on the bed.

  "I had a bad dream again," Darlene said. She was sweating and wiped her arms and neck off with the bed sheet.

  "Are you nauseous?" Taylor asked.

  Darlene shook her head. She stretched her arms over her head. "I actually feel fine. I need to stand up."

  Taylor stood with Darlene and shadowed her around the room, but she didn't need to. Darlene felt great. She had energy and felt well-rested. She turned to Taylor. "Am I a prisoner in this room?"

  "I don't really know," Taylor said. "I'll go ask The Lich Lord."

  "I'd like to come with you."

  Taylor shook her head. "I can't risk it. If I did the wrong thing by bringing you with me, I'm afraid of what he would do to me."

  Darlene was concerned. "He's been hurting you."

  Taylor laughed. "Not at all. In fact, he's made sure I eat good food and I have a nice room of my own. He even found me an iPod the other night filled with great songs and a charger for it." She dropped her smile. "But I don't want to push it. He can still get mad. I don't want him mad at me."

  "I understand. But hurry back. I promise I won't leave," Darlene said. She watched Taylor leave.

  If The Lich Lord wanted her dead, it would've happened a dozen times already. In fact, the zombie seemed to be going out of his way to be nice and accommodating to her. He'd healed her, and she felt amazing right now. Probably better than she had since this all began. Her mind was clear and her body wasn't battered and bruised. She'd been eating well and drinking lots of water and other liquids.

  Taylor came back about twenty minutes later, smiling. "He said he'd see you in the arena. Come on."

  Darlene followed Taylor. She stopped when she saw an open doorway and peeked inside to see cots laid out in rows and many sick and old survivors.

  "This is where I work. They are under my care. I make sure they get everything they want and need," Taylor said.

  "Does The Lich Lord feed off of them?"

  Taylor shook her head. "He no longer needs to feed on blood or with carnal desire. He drains you with his mind, but only those who aren't part of our sanctuary. He's sworn on more than one occasion no harm will come from him. We are his people."

  "You worship him?"

  Taylor shook her head. "No. He isn't a delusional figurehead. He doesn't think he's a god. He just... he knows he is better than us. But he isn't lording it over us. He's protecting us from his kind. It's hard to explain."

  "I'll ask him, I guess," Darlene said. She was led into a large, dark area. Only a single candle was lit on a table in the center of the arena.

  Taylor left without a word, leaving Darlene to enter on her own. She looked around but it was too dark. She hoped her eyes would focus so she could see better, before she was attacked.

  "Would you like a chair?" It was The Lich Lord's voice, coming from somewhere ahead and above.

  "I'll stand. I've been lying in bed for too long," Darlene said.

  "How do you feel?"

  "I feel... great," Darlene admitted.

  The Lich Lord floated into view, directly behind the candle, his feet hovering above the ground for a few seconds before he touched the floor. He was smiling. He looked even more human to Darlene except for his red, haunting eyes. "You are truly unique, Darlene Bobich. I've never encountered anyone like you in this world. I don't think I ever will, in fact."

  "Perhaps my baby."

  He nodded slowly. His left hand idly caressed the flame of the candle, keeping it from going out. "I fear your baby is something even more powerful than you."

  "I find it hard to believe you fear anything," Darlene said.

  "Oh, but I do. With my growth now comes wisdom. I know what I am, but I know what can take this all away from me. While I might technically be immortal and will never grow old, I can be destroyed by someone powerful." He grinned at Darlene. "Someone more powerful than you. And I think you gave birth to him."

  "If you touch my baby..." Darlene said with venom.

  He held up his hand. "I have no wish to hurt the child. In fact, I want you to go and protect him from my brethren. I want you to raise the boy to slay the rest of them."

  "Why would you want me to do that?"

  "So I can rule, of course. But not by fear or violence. The time has come for the human race to evolve." The Lich Lord smiled. "And to survive without a world filled with zombies."

  "We don't have enough bullets," Darlene said.

  "No... but you have the blood."

  "What blood?"

  "Your blood," The Lich Lord said. "Come, I want to show you something I've been working on. It could potentially save the human race."

  Chapter Thirteen

  He'd been still in the ditch for so long his calves were cramping, the spasms coming and going until he wanted to scream. John finally sat up and looked around.

  The last of the zombies had wandered off.

  "Is it clear?" Heath asked from a few feet away. The words startled John. He thought he'd been alone for the last few hours.

  "Yes." John got up and rubbed his legs to get feeling back in them. Heath was doing the same. He'd been hiding in the same ditch but around a bend of it only a few feet away. "I didn't hear you at all." John was genuinely impressed.

  "I rolled in after I saw you heading this way. I buried myself in the leaves and debris and rolled onto my stomach. To tell you the truth, I fell asleep. Luckily, I don't snore unless I'm on my back."

  "I would've slept but one of the bastards actually stepped on me and fell onto the other side of the ditch," John said.

  "What happened?" Heath asked.

  John pointed at the body, motionless on the ground. "I made sure he didn't make a sound. The bonus of killing the stupid ones. They don't complain when you stab them in the base of their neck."

  "Did you check for any survivors?"

  John shook his head. "If there are any, they're in hiding. I've been sitting and waiting for night so I could start moving."

  "Moving at night is too risky, especially out in the middle of nowhere. We need to hole up inside one of these abandoned houses until morning," Heath said.

  "I have to find Darlene and my son."

  "You think we can walk to Daytona Beach, at night, through thousands of ninja quiet zombies? I don't. We need to come up with a better game plan than driving down Route 1 and trying not to die. It didn't seem to work for Lincoln." Heath walked over to a body on the ground and knelt next to it, turning it over. He sighed loudly. "Speak of the Devil."

  "He was a good man," John said.

  "He was too trusting." Heath glanced up at John.

  "I'm not. I'm sure one of us will end up killing the other before this is over, but right now we need to work together," John said.

  Heath stood and put out his hand. "Agreed. I think you're an asshole but as long as you watch my back I'll watch yours. But the first sign of trouble and you get knocked down and allow me to live."

  John took Heath's hand. "Fair enough. I feel the same way."

  Heath looked at the pile of blood and bones that used to be Lincoln. "I followed him for many miles. What a waste. I told him to let you go back to find your wife and let us head north. There was nothing for us in Daytona Beach."

  "What's for you north?"

  Heath shrugged. "A month ago a wandering pair came into our camp. They said they were from Jacksonville. Said a madman was holed up in one of the office buildings downtown, shooting at anything that moved. He must have rooms filled with ammo. But he probably has rooms filled with food and supplies, too. I wanted to go and see for myself, but Lincoln always talked me out of it. Even when Dana left in search of y
our baby and the chick who stole it, I wasn't allowed to go."

  John snickered as he went to see if any of the motorcycles or vehicles was salvageable.

  "What's so funny?" Heath asked.

  "Lincoln wouldn't allow you to go? I don't get it."

  Heath looked pissed and John thought he was going to throw a punch, in which case all bets were off. Heath looked away and his body relaxed.

  "I owed a lot to Lincoln. More than you can imagine. He saved me in Orlando," Heath said.

  "You told me."

  Heath stared at John for a minute and John thought the man was going to cry. "He... saved me from myself."

  John didn't say a word, letting Heath run everything through his head. If he wanted to tell John, he'd tell him. But they were wasting time standing on the road, in the open, while the sun was going down.

  When Heath made no move to speak or check the vehicles, John shrugged and went to the first motorcycle. The saddle bags had been removed and the tires cut and flat. He had a feeling everything of value had been taken and all modes of transportation broken.

  John looked back at Heath, who hadn't moved. "We need to get out of here before they come back. Or something else finds us. We're not safe."

  "There's nothing for us, anyway," Heath said. "You and I both know the zombies stripped us of anything we could use."

  John grimaced as he took a few steps. Besides sitting in the ditch for so long, his injury was acting up again. His leg wasn't going to be of much use if he didn't get off of it. "We need to find a place to hide for the night."

  Heath pointed at John's leg. "I knew you'd figure this out on your own. We need to rest up and see what tomorrow brings. And hope it isn't more shit."

  "Agreed." John looked at the pile of gore that had once been Lincoln and thought of Darlene and the baby again. He needed to keep his focus. He needed to find his family, but do it smartly. Limping around at night wasn't going to get him to Daytona Beach.

  Heath began walking down the road and John tried to keep up.

  * * * * *

  No, Vee screamed in her head. There's no way...