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

by Joe McKinney

  Ella pursed her lips, not quite satisfied with the answer. In her flurry to leave Brighton, she realized she hardly given enough thought to what they’d do when they got there. What if the soldiers arrived first? Surely the guard knew of her relatives in Davenport. Her hope had been to get a head start, seek out her relatives, and beg them to keep her hidden.

  What other choice did she have?

  Her mind strayed to worst-case scenarios. Davenport had the same rules about the unclean. What if her aunt and uncle turned her in?

  She pictured the way her aunt and uncle had looked at William when they’d first seen him. He’d only been a few years old, then—barely old enough to toddle, and not yet old enough to talk, but they’d had taken an immediate liking to him. They’d even mentioned how nice it would be to live closer together. Ella had entertained the possibility for some time, thinking up plans to move to Davenport. But that had been before Ethan had gone to battle, and before he’d been burned.

  Neither had come to bid Ethan farewell. It wouldn’t have been proper.

  It’d been five years since they’d visited Brighton. She swallowed her misgivings. Her first priority was getting to Davenport. She fell back from Bray and rejoined William. The boy was walking a few steps behind, and his eyes roamed from one side of the forest to the next.

  “Are you all right, William?” she whispered.

  He nodded, but she could see fear in his stare. She stopped walking and grabbed hold of him, suddenly fearful that he was losing his coherence. He stopped to look at her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again, more insistently.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look pale.”

  “I’m fine. Nothing’s the matter.”

  She noticed he was avoiding her gaze. She gave him a motherly stare. A few seconds later, he let her in on his thoughts.

  “Am I going to eat people, Mom?”

  Ella bit back tears. She pulled him close and held him against her, listening to the steady throb of his heartbeat. How long would she be able to get this close to him? Would it be a day, a week, or a year? She opened her mouth to comfort him, but found herself choking back a sob instead.

  Chapter 36

  Ivory

  After spending most of the morning on top of the mountain, Ivory backtracked for half a mile to a broad prairie. He spent the first part of the morning hunting for rabbits. Jingo would appreciate the gift. There’d be no rabbits in the ruined city. Ivory bagged several before he headed back for the cliff and found the trail that led down the mountain.

  He zigged and zagged his way along the narrow path, careful to tread lightly and stay alert. At the slightest misplaced noise, he’d hide under a bush or behind a thick tree, far from the trail. The realm of the twisted men was not safe for anyone uninfected by the spore.

  To be discovered was to risk death.

  The trip down the mountainside was slow. But it always was. When in the demon’s realm, one often had to choose between speed and caution. Ivory’s uncle had taught him caution was always best. Keeping a cool head, thinking, and hiding were so much easier than running, and those skills had saved him countless times when he’d been unfortunate enough to come to the attention of a demon.

  Working his way through the ruins was slow. Slow time passed while he hid, watching his surroundings, listening, and dashing to the next hiding spot—always in the shadows, always in underbrush. To walk the trails worn clear by demon feet invited disaster.

  The fallen megalith was his goal. When his uncle was still alive, they worked together scavenging the enormous pile of rubble on every trip. As his uncle had explained, the most recently fallen towers had an abundance of accessible metals. The other crumbled structures had either been picked clean by past generations of scavengers, or the exposed metals were more rust than usable steel.

  It was almost midday when Ivory made his way up on the northern side of the giant mound. In the years since the building fell, he’d never scavenged this side. For whatever reason, he and his uncle had started scavenging on the southern side, and had eventually worked their way West. With all of the easily accessible metals gone from those two sides, Ivory decided to continue the pattern on the northern side.

  Up on the rubble pile, he didn’t worry too much about being spotted by demons. There were plenty of places to hide. He kept the same rules he held when working through the city—while scanning the area, he stayed out of view, and when he was sure that no eyes were on him, he stepped out and gathered the metals he’d spotted.

  He was following that procedure when he stepped quickly across a long flat piece of old wood, assuming—badly—that the wood was simply lying across other rubble. Halfway across, he realized the wood felt soft underfoot. His first thought was that it might give way. He pulled his arms close to him in preparation for a fall. Better to land on a shoulder and get a bruise rather than stick out a hand to brace himself and snap a wrist.

  Ivory’s foot continued to sink. His leg was through a hole and up to his knee. He stomped his other foot down on the wood to catch his balance, hit rot, and the whole slab fell away beneath him. He reached out to grab something… Anything. But everything in his reach was falling too.

  Ivory’s feet hit something solid and uneven. He was off balance and not coming to a stop. Wood, rocks, and other bits of debris fell with him. He tumbled over big chunks of stone and down a slope, rolling and bouncing.

  He collided with a floor of flat stone. Bruised, scraped and trying to catch his breath, he realized he’d stopped. Around him was darkness. High above him, sunlight poured in through the hole he’d created. He cursed himself for his carelessness. Stepping on that piece of wood was a mistake that could’ve killed him. It still might.

  Ivory listened for the sounds of demons in the darkness around him. He heard nothing.

  He waited and didn’t move.

  Not even small animals hid in the permanent shadows down here. Or they did and they were frightened into silence by the intruder.

  Birds twittered in the air outside.

  Ivory was sure he was alone.

  He sat up and wiggled his fingers and toes. He bent his elbows and knees. Then he took a deep breath. He touched his hand to his head. He’d gotten a good bump while tumbling. Only a tiny bit of blood came back on his fingers. He’d gotten lucky. Nothing seemed broken, and nothing was bleeding—at least not bleeding enough to worry over.

  Peering into the darkness, Ivory got to his hands and knees, then to his feet. Despite years of ancient dirt and fallen debris, the floor was well preserved, patterned in an array of colors and designs—all finer than anything he’d seen in Brighton and covering the entire space around him. When the building above had collapsed all those years ago, it must have left a cavity, a great banquet hall a hundred feet across, with sloping walls of rubble and a ceiling supported by nothing that Ivory could make out in the gloomy shadows high above.

  With his eyes following the pattern on the floor to where it disappeared beneath the rubble, he tried to make out what the pattern represented. Did the plants, animals, and curving lines represent anything? Probably not. Few things the Ancients constructed made any sense.

  If the building above hadn’t collapsed, creating barriers of debris, Ivory wondered how far he could have walked in this subterranean realm. Could he have traveled all the way through the Ancient city and to the borders of the town? Ivory laughed at himself for such a silly idea. Still, he liked to imagine what life had been like in the time of the Ancients, before the ruins, before the demons.

  He sighed as he noticed a glint of metal in the rubble that surrounded the floor.

  It was time to turn his tumble into good fortune. Confident that he could quickly make the climb back up to the surface should he come across anything dangerous, he chanced a walk lightly along the edges of the floor, perusing the wall of crushed old stone, broken glass, and pieces of metal. Some of the pieces were so large they’d be impossi
ble for him to remove, even with the help of a dozen men.

  Along with the giant beams of steel and rusted ropes—ropes that seemed to grow right out of the broken stone—pieces of rare metal were mixed all throughout the debris mounds. Ivory saw hard steel, the kind for swords, broken into pieces small enough to load into his bag. He also found steel that didn’t hold an edge for long, but never rusted. He found pieces of aluminum, light and permanent. It was no good for making cutting weapons, but it was a prized material for making spear shafts, and it was highly prized for arrow shafts like the ones in his quiver. Those arrows flew far and true. Much better than wood.

  The blacksmiths back in Brighton eagerly bought those metals, turning them into all manner of tools and weapons. Although the metals were contraband—going to the Ancient city was forbidden, after all—the blacksmiths didn’t acknowledge their origin, and Ivory didn’t speak of it.

  Ivory contemplated exploring further, but put the thoughts out of his mind. He needed to get moving if he was to get to Jingo’s. Without delay, he collected as many pieces of metal as he could easily carry in his bag.

  Ivory took one final glance at the trove of metals in the rubble all around and made his way carefully up the pile of debris to the hole through which he’d fallen. When he climbed out, the sun was higher in the sky. Ivory took his time scanning the ruins around him, making sure he was alone. He covered the hole with pieces of large debris, ensuring they were strong enough to be walked across. He didn’t want some wandering demon discovering the cavern by accidentally falling in just as Ivory had. If that happened, his discovery would get turned into a warren full of stinking monsters. His trove would be lost.

  When his stash was hidden, Ivory worked his way back down through the rubble, heading in the direction of the tower where Jingo had made his home.

  Chapter 37

  Ella

  “How far?” Ella asked.

  Bray was several steps ahead of her. They’d been trekking all morning, and it felt like they were getting close to Davenport. In spite of that, Ella’s memory was far from trustworthy; it’d been years since she’d made the journey, and distances seemed much different now than they’d seemed in her childhood.

  “Not far,” Bray affirmed. “When we get close, you’ll see the tops of the buildings over the trees. We should be there by midday.”

  Ella felt a swell of relief. Since leaving Wanderer’s Peak, she’d been expecting the worst—bands of soldiers lurking behind every cluster of trees, packs of demons springing from all directions. So far, the journey had been quiet. Ella had spent much of the time ruminating on the events that had occurred over the past few days, reliving the choices she’d made. She assumed there’d be many days like that to come. She was surprised she’d even been able to sleep in the cave.

  Her brain flashed to images of the soldiers she’d stabbed in Brighton—blood spraying from wounds she’d inflicted, groans emanating from opened mouths. She tried to recall the rousing speeches she’d heard given to soldiers before they marched off to battle. She’d never been a part of them, but she’d eavesdropped. The soldiers trained on a field several streets removed from town, and she’d passed by while making her way to the merchants. The leaders spoke of courage in battle—about giving up one’s life for the protection of the townsfolk, about making decisions fearlessly.

  Wasn’t that what she’d done?

  She didn’t believe the town’s teachings—that women were weak, and that only the hardest hearts could prevail. The noblest people she’d encountered were those that were not only able to fight, but also to feel. People like Ethan. People like her uncle. Those were the people she aspired to be like, and those were the people she wanted William to admire. For as long as he lived, she’d impress those values upon him.

  She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the forest deaden. The transformation was subtle. At first, the birds stopped chirping, then the insects ceased their chatter. The wind died. Ahead of her, Bray stopped, as well, and was holding his blade at the ready. Ella scanned the forest.

  Something was close by. She could feel it.

  The air had taken on a fetid odor—a stench that permeated her surroundings and almost made her gag. She pressed a hand to her mouth, holding her breath to avoid taking it in. Beside her, William did the same. She knew the smell.

  Demons.

  Around Ella were trees and underbrush, but in the distance, she could see the light of a clearing. Bray gazed through the trees. After surveying the forest for several seconds, he put a finger to his lips and beckoned them onward.

  They snuck to his side. With each step, the smell thickened, as if the scent were a ghost and they’d walked into its embrace. As they approached the clearing, Bray sank to a crouch. Ella and William mimicked his posture.

  Several hundred feet across the clearing, shapes, hunched and lump-covered, crept through the grass. If Ella didn’t know better, she might’ve mistaken them for primitive animals grazing in an open field.

  “Stay still,” Bray said.

  Ella wanted desperately to run, but she obeyed the Warden. As much as she distrusted the man, he knew the ways of the demon. And out in the wild, that knowledge was greater than currency.

  The infected were moving in the opposite direction, surveying the knee-high grass. Although their movements were erratic, the longer Ella stared at them, the more she could pick out a pattern. Several creatures were leading the group, as if they were generals of some infected band of troops, directing their men through the terrain.

  Ella looked over at Bray, trying to swallow her fear. “What are they looking for?”

  “Us, most likely.”

  “They know we’re here?”

  “Possibly. Either that, or someone else is passing through.”

  “Can they smell us?” William asked.

  “I don’t think so. Their senses are the same as ours. They’re probably surrounded by the same stench.” Bray wrinkled his nose. “The only difference is, they probably like it.”

  The creatures swayed back and forth. Every once in a while, one of them cranked its head and stared back at the forest, and Ella ducked low and held her breath.

  “We should be fine,” Bray assured her. “We’ll just wait them out, and then we’ll adjust our path. It looks like they’re heading west.”

  Ella peered over at William, who was taking in the scene intently. It was as if he were watching his future unfold. She wondered if he envisioned himself out in the open field. She’d protect him from that. She’d rather die than let him roam the wilderness like an animal. If it came down to it, she’d even…

  She couldn’t think about that.

  Ella swallowed the lump in her throat. William had turned to Bray, and she could see the curiosity on his face. It seemed like his fear had abated.

  “How many skins do you think are out there?” He smiled.

  “Forty-two,” Bray said.

  William held up his finger and quietly counted the air. “You’re right. How’d you know that?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Bray smiled at Ella, but she scowled and looked away. William was recounting, as if the Warden might’ve played a trick on him.

  “Have you ever fought that many at once?” William asked.

  “Not that many,” Bray said. “But close.”

  “Did you defeat all of them?”

  “Yep. I got thirty-five skins that day.”

  “How’d you manage to do it?”

  Bray smirked, unable to disguise his pride. “Do you want to know how?”

  William nodded anxiously. Ella kept her eyes on the field, but found herself listening intently. Despite her mixed feelings toward the Warden, any knowledge he could impart would be worth having. Their survival might depend on it.

  Bray gave one last look over the field, and then continued. “It happened about a year ago, right after the Brighton soldiers defeated a horde outside the walls. The demons h
ad grown scarce, and many of the Wardens decided to head out past the frontier into the deep forests. I figured I’d head south. Most of the other Wardens were heading west, so I figured I’d have better luck in another direction. As you probably know, not many people have ventured that far away from the three towns, and I wasn’t familiar with the area. One morning, as I was coming down from my camp on a mountain, I stumbled on a pack of infected. They were trolling a field at the mountain’s base, scavenging among the trees. Because of the direction of the wind, I hadn’t smelled them, and by the time I saw them, they’d already spotted me.”

  Bray paused for breath. William stared at him, eagerness in his expression.

  “I turned, ready to flee, but I was butted up against an incline, and I knew that if I tried to run, I’d be overtaken. There was nothing I could do but fight them off. It took me a good part of the afternoon to slay all of them.”

  “How’d you do it? How’d you kill them?” William asked.

  Bray scratched his chin. “There are certain things you learn along the way—strategies that become instinct. Things you don’t know until you’re faced with a situation like that,” he said evasively.

  “But don’t you have certain methods? Like the soldiers do?”

  “I have my ways.”

  Bray stopped and reached for his pack, watching Ella and William. He pulled out a flask of water and drank from it, letting his cheeks billow with the liquid. Ella felt a swell of annoyance. Rather than say anything, she held her tongue. When Bray was finished, he inspected the field and then resumed speaking.

  “You want to know my secrets?” he asked.

  Ella and William nodded.

  “For one, never stop moving. The minute you stop moving is the minute you die. The demons have a difficult time catching a moving target. If there are a number of them, they tend to trip each other up, so you can use that to your advantage. Chase them from side to side, and attack the fiercest ones first. Never let yourselves get surrounded. In this particular instance, I had the mountain at my back, which limited the number of ways they could approach. If you get surrounded, you’re as dead as the soldiers we left on the mountain.”