Ultimate Undead Collection: The Zombie Apocalypse Best Sellers Boxed Set (10 Books)

by Joe McKinney

  Beck didn’t believe any of Winthrop’s mindless hokum. Superstitions were for peasants, not educated men. The rabbit hunter was on the dais because he didn’t want the fire to lick his skin while he burned in the pyre. He didn’t want his friends and children to think him a coward. He didn’t want them to hear his screams. He wanted the easy way out.

  General Blackthorn was always terse. “Speak.”

  “General—” The man’s voice caught in his throat. He looked down at his feet and fidgeted with his belt buckle.

  “My son.” Father Winthrop leaned forward in his chair. “The fact that you are here proves your bravery. You need not be nervous.”

  The man’s name was Muldoon. Beck recognized him, though grief seemed to have aged him by a decade in the past half year. His wife had been taken at the last Cleansing with a line of warts on her spine. The old men who sat in the square and played their board games said it was the fastest they’d seen the warts grow in years. Beck speculated that, in truth, she’d found a way to hide her uncleanliness from the town, from the inspectors, on previous days of Cleansing. But the warts had become too ugly and bulbous. They always did. Always. On the day of the last Cleansing, when she dropped her dress, the warts were clear, red, ugly, and hard on her back, some the size of a toddler’s fist. Even an old woman with clouded eyes could see them.

  And now, here was her widower husband, ready to pay the price for his collusion. Surely he had known about his wife’s warts. But that only underscored the need for The Cleansing. People rarely came forth on their own to admit their disease. They needed to be compelled.

  “I’m smudged,” Muldoon said, without looking up.

  “Where?” Father Winthrop asked.

  The man pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “My back.”

  General Blackthorn leaned forward. “Smudged? How do you know that, if it’s on your back? Did your son tell you?”

  The man was stuck between words. He looked like he was hiding something.

  “Out with it, man!” demanded General Blackthorn.

  Muldoon looked left and right, then over his shoulder. “I was working.”

  In a softer tone, Father Winthrop said, “Go on.”

  “I had my shirt off. I was helping my cousin put hay in his barn. It was hot.”

  “And?”

  “My cousin’s neighbor, Earl Friend saw it.”

  “Earl Friend, the poultry man?”

  “Yes.”

  Nodding knowingly, Father Winthrop said, “A man with a heart of stone. A good man to tell another such a sad thing. We’re lucky to have such men.”

  Muldoon looked around again and checked over his shoulder.

  “Is there more?” General Blackthorn asked, suspicion in his tone.

  Muldoon nodded.

  “Speak.” Father Winthrop curled his fingers, trying to lure the words from the man’s mouth.

  “Earl Friend offered me comfort.”

  “How so?” Blackthorn asked.

  Beck was getting curious. On a day of drudgery and tears, this minor mystery was a welcome distraction.

  Muldoon looked at his feet when he spoke. He was ashamed. “He said he was smudged, too.”

  Blackthorn sat up straight, looking around, ready to put a spike in someone’s head.

  Had a snail been crawling on Father Winthrop’s tongue his face could not have shown more disgust.

  Beck asked, “And he was hiding it?”

  Muldoon nodded.

  “How long has he been hiding it?”

  “Three Cleansings. Earl told me that if I said nothing, nothing would come of it. He said silence was a more powerful Cleanser than the pain of the pyre. He said a true man of The Word keeps his secret and disappears into the forest when the warts come. He said that’s why so few men burn.”

  Beck shook his head. It was not going to go well for Earl Friend.

  Father Winthrop turned to Blackthorn. “This Earl Friend is a heretic. He’s a danger to the whole town.”

  “A danger, he is.” Blackthorn gave Father Winthrop a condescending nod and looked at one of the armed men. “Find this Earl Friend. We’ll see how soft he is.”

  “A soft-hearted woman,” Winthrop added as the guard walked toward the steps. He turned to Muldoon. “You are a true citizen. I bow to your strength and courage.”

  Beck rolled his eyes. He hated the religious blather.

  Blackthorn asked, “Fire or sword?”

  “I’ll burn, either way,” Muldoon mumbled.

  Father Winthrop crept to the edge of his seat. “Fire Cleanses the body and the soul only if the soul has not already fled the body.”

  Oh, please, thought Beck.

  Muldoon shuffled nervously. Thick, glassy tears were in his eyes, though none rolled down his cheeks. “I…I don’t think I can. I’ve heard the screams.”

  “Ecstasy,” Winthrop said. He nodded several times to reinforce his argument. “That is simply the soul touching God.”

  Muldoon winced. “But it sounds like it hurts so much.”

  Beck felt sympathy for the man. “Take the sword. It’ll end before you feel it. The fire will Cleanse you either way.”

  A flash of hope crossed Muldoon’s face.

  There was a shout and a scuffle from the back edge of the plaza. When Beck looked up, a dozen of Blackthorn’s blue-shirted strongmen were wrangling a feisty Earl Friend toward the dais. Earl began to scream. He knew the fire was coming to lick his flesh. And like any sane man, he wanted no part of it.

  Chapter 5

  Ella

  Ella stared down at the guards, then back up at her son. William had reached the top of the wall, and he swung his boot over the ledge, struggling to find footing.

  “Keep going!” she screamed.

  Hands tugged her from the wall, and a man’s sweaty palm clamped her mouth. Her bag was ripped from her shoulder, and the contents spilled out over the grass. She attempted to fight, but the guard had a firm hold on her, and before she knew it, a knife poked against her abdomen.

  She screamed uselessly into the hand on her mouth.

  Her eyes flitted to William. He’d paused on the top of the ledge—just long enough to look back—and in that moment, she knew it was over.

  “I got him!” the second guard yelled.

  The guard leapt onto the wall; within seconds he’d made the climb. William swung his second leg over, but he was too late—the delay had cost him. The guard snagged onto his arm, and the boy cried out, pawing at the moss-covered stone.

  “Do you want to fall, boy?”

  As if to prove his point, the guard gave him a tug. William stopped squirming and looked down. He shook his head at the guard, tears welling in his eyes.

  “Climb back down then. Slowly.”

  The boy complied, and the guard ushered him to the bottom. Ella tried to run to him, but the blade dug deeper into her side—a second warning. She replayed the last few minutes in her mind, trying to pinpoint the moment everything had dissolved.

  She’d scouted the area before running to the wall. There’d been no sign of the guards. Had the men been hiding? Had they been waiting?

  The second guard stared at her with a smug expression. She turned her head, catching a glimpse of the guard behind her.

  Of course they’d known they were coming—maybe not Ella and William, perhaps, but someone. Although she didn’t recognize the men, they looked about Ella’s age. If she’d known about this section of the wall, then it was a safe bet they did, too.

  She’d been stupid to come here.

  Although she’d never been told the details of another’s capture, she could assume they’d fallen into the same trap. No one had ever gotten away from town. At least that’s what everybody said.

  Why did she think she’d be any different?

  She closed her eyes, trying to eliminate the false steps she’d taken. If she could do it over, she’d go toward the creek, or the river, or the mountains. There had to be places wh
ere the wall had crumbled.

  Any border would’ve been better than here.

  She was snapped to attention by rough hands on her dress. The first guard threw her to the ground, and the impact stung her knees. For the first time, she got a good look at the man that’d been holding her—gaunt cheeks, several day’s stubble, and stained, smiling teeth.

  “What’re you fleeing for? You don’t look infected.”

  Ella said nothing.

  “She looks fine to me,” the second guard said. “Better than fine, actually.”

  Ella glared at them, trying to regain her footing, but the second guard poked William with his knife. “Don’t even try it,” he said.

  Ella dug her fingers into the ground, trying to control her emotions. First the Cleansings, then Ethan, and now this. How much could she take? How much could William?

  “Mom?” William whimpered.

  “It’s okay, honey.”

  “No, it’s not,” the second guard said.

  She gritted her teeth, trying to make her heart harden. Of all the bullshit and lies the Elders spread, maybe that was the one lesson worth learning.

  How could someone hurt her, if she couldn’t feel pain?

  The first guard crouched next to her, spinning his knife in his hands. His eyes wandered from her face to her dress, and she could read his thoughts as if she’d had them herself.

  These men had rules to follow, but what was stopping them from breaking those rules?

  Who would believe a traitor’s accusations?

  Ella inched away from the men, trying to keep the attention on her. Trying to keep them away from William. The boy watched, and she could see the panic in his eyes.

  “We’re not infected,” Ella pleaded.

  “Then why are you running?” the first guard asked.

  “We owe a debt to one of the merchants in town. He said he’d collect it after The Cleansing, and we don’t have the money to pay him.”

  The guards were silent for a second. They exchanged glances.

  It was a story that happened often, and one that rarely ended well. Usually the merchants would take out their debts in other ways—often by violence or sexual servitude, if the debtor were a woman of age—and the law allowed it.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Ella said. “You can Cleanse me, if you want—both of you. But afterward, you have to promise to let us go.”

  The guards looked at each other, as if they’d never heard the offer before. Ella couldn’t imagine no one had ever attempted to bribe them. She’d heard the unclean ones say almost everything, when the pyre was lit and the guards were shuffling them toward the flames.

  She moved her hand from the ground to her knee, purposely knocking away the ripped fold of her skirt, swallowing the sick feeling inside her.

  The guard on the ground smirked, and his cheeks puffed in and out with excitement. “Okay,” he said. He looked at the other guard, but the man had no objections.

  The first guard moved toward her, relaxing his grip on the knife. William stared at them, his eyes wide.

  “Wait,” she said, holding up a finger.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed to a distant building, across the field. Then she let her eyes wander back to William. The guard nodded that he understood.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  The guard helped Ella to her feet, this time with a little more care, and she walked in front of him, still cognizant of the blade pressed against her back. The wind ruffled her skirt, and she held it in place, trying to preserve her last moments of dignity.

  As they walked, she tried to envision a scenario that would interrupt the one she’d created. Maybe an unclean resident would run for the wall. Maybe another guard would take pity on them. Something. Anything.

  The field before them was wide and vacant, and the buildings in the distance seemed as uninhabited as before. There was no sign of help. Anyone they ran into would probably make things worse—insisting they be taken to The Cleansing.

  They’d probably be taken there anyway, once the guards were through.

  All Ella had bought was time. Nothing more.

  The knowledge hit her like a fist to the stomach, and suddenly she was crying, unable to hold back the tears.

  “Keep moving,” the guard behind her grunted, his courtesy waning.

  She stifled her sobs, peering over her shoulder at William. The boy was following along, watching his feet. He was mumbling. She wondered if he knew what was coming.

  Or was he having delusions again?

  In some small way, she hoped that his head was somewhere else; that he’d be spared the memory of what was going to happen.

  They left the shelter of the trees and entered the sunlit field. Ella tried to take in the moment, knowing the minutes to follow would be much worse. There were a lot of things that could be survived and forgotten, but this wouldn’t be one of them. They reached the nearest building, and the knife receded from her back.

  “Stay here, or we’ll kill the boy,” the guard said.

  The guard walked out in front of her, peering into the decrepit building. The walls were filled with gaping holes, but the rooms were dark, and she could see little of the interior. A fitting place for such a vile act.

  When he was satisfied the building was vacant, the guard looked at his friend.

  “I’ll go first,” he said simply, as if they were setting up for a pig-pull, rather than stripping a woman of her decency.

  The other guard nodded, and the first man pulled her into the building. She fought the urge to look back at her son. She couldn’t meet William’s eyes. Not now.

  She stepped into the darkness, taking in the shapes and outlines of things she didn’t recognize. Before she could make them out, the man grabbed hold of her arms. The stink of alcohol filled the air. She hadn’t realized the guard was drunk before. Perhaps that was why he’d agreed to the proposal.

  “Wait a second,” she whispered, her pulse beating so fast she could barely think.

  “What is it?”

  He paused, his hands already pawing at her dress, his breath so bad she thought she’d vomit.

  “Let me undo it. I don’t want to rip the dress; it’s the only one I have.”

  “Okay.”

  He let go of her, and suddenly she was free—mercifully free—if only for a few seconds. She searched for the buttons on her back, groping in the dark, feeling sick and nervous and angry. Her fingers trembled. She’d undressed a million times before, and now she could barely get her hands to cooperate.

  It’d been over a year since she’d been with a man.

  Of course, that was with Ethan.

  But the guard in front of her wasn’t a man, she reminded herself. He was a monster, as vile and corrupt as the others in town. The ones who’d burned her husband, and who’d burn her son, too, if she’d let them.

  This was the last thing they’d take from her. She’d see to it.

  She undid the top button, feeling the fabric loosen around her neck and shoulders. The man breathed harder. She reached up to shed the garment, crying as she smoothed out the ruffles. It was then that she heard the commotion from outside.

  William shrieked.

  She retracted her hands, starting for the door. Before she could proceed, the guard clamped his hand around her wrist and wrenched her backward.

  “I don’t think so.” His voice was harsh and foul.

  She tried pushing him away, but he stuck the knife back under her chin. A scream lodged in her throat, and her son’s cries tore at her soul.

  “You promised,” she whispered.

  “I promised nothing.”

  “You said that you’d let us go, once I was Cleansed.”

  Her eyes had adjusted, and she could make out the sneer on the man’s face. She did her best to stay calm.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Please,” she added. “Undress me, if you want. Just don’t hurt my son.”

 
; She reached out for his arm, gently, pulling the man toward her. The man lowered his knife. He put his hands on her shoulders, resuming what he’d started. He slipped the top of the dress from her shoulders, and she felt it drop past her arms. She shuddered at the oily touch of his fingers.

  Before he could get any further, Ella thrust her knee into the man’s crotch.

  The guard doubled over in pain, the breath hissing out of him. She heard a small thud in the dirt—the knife—and she dropped to the ground, searching for the handle. The guard was still bent over, trying to catch his breath. She patted the ground until her hands closed around the blade. Suddenly, the knife was in her hand, the man was grabbing her, and she was thrusting it into him.

  The man let out a muted cry and fell back to the ground. Ella could feel his warm blood on her hand, but she didn’t wait around to see what she’d done. Instead, she raced through the dark room and to the entrance, darting frantically for her son.

  The daylight hit her—fast and sudden, blinding. She wiped her eyes. William was on the ground, partially disrobed. The second guard was standing over him, his blade held high in the air.

  “He’s infected!” he cried, as if the news would be a revelation to Ella.

  Ella screamed and charged.

  Before the guard could react, she barged into him with all the momentum of a mother’s rage, knocking him backward to the ground. And then she was on top of him, heaving the knife into his chest, plunging it again and again, until the blade struck bone and the man was still.

  She rolled off of him.

  “Come on!” she screamed. Without looking back, Ella grabbed William’s arm and ran for the nearby field, clutching her opened dress to her shoulders.

  Chapter 6

  Minister Beck

  Beck stared across the dais at the condemned man, watching Muldoon’s final moments. Muldoon stood naked from the waist up. Father Winthrop was inspecting him.

  Careful not to touch Muldoon’ skin, Winthrop’s finger circled the smudge at the base of Muldoon’s spine. “Come closer Franklin. Get a good look at this. This is classic smudge.”