I’d grown used to the reek of death that permeated the building, but as I opened the door the stench grew stronger. The source of the smell was hanging from the center of the room—two corpses, a man and woman in their sixties. They’d fastened electrical cord around a metal beam running across the ceiling, climbed on top of two chairs from the restaurant, and put nooses around their necks before kicking the chairs away.
The window on the opposite side of the room told the rest of the story. There were no zombies pressed against it now, but the glass was covered with smears of blood and cracked in places where something had tried to get in.
The room was simply decorated with a three-seater couch that had seen better days, a low glass coffee table, and a couple of bookcases that held four books and a scattering of trinkets from around the world. There was a television in one corner that had probably been state of the art thirty years ago. Part of me doubted it would have been able to receive broadcasts, even without the disruption of the zombie apocalypse. Three more doors led out of the room; one of them was the exit to the parking area at the rear of the building.
I walked into the room, and the bodies stirred. The woman raised her head, revealing black eyes and a purple, bloated face. A cluster of flies rose up out of her blue-rinsed hair. She let out a low moan. The sound caught the attention of the man hanging beside her. He, too, raised his equally bloated head. He reached out toward me, legs kicking. His movements started him swinging. He bumped against the woman, eliciting more throaty growls from the woman. I backed away from the twitching zombies a little. The electrical cords creaked as they moved but held firm.
The hairs on the back of my hands rose, the shadow making its presence felt. I looked around the room again, really taking in the table, the couch, the bookshelves. It had potential. I could see the possibilities.
I shook my head. I had my workshop. My sanctuary.
I moved around the room, staying out of reach of the zombies. They moaned and twisted as I passed near them.
One of the doors led to a tiny bathroom with a toilet and a shower. The walls were hand-painted with flowers, and a row of poppies ran along the bottom of the shower curtain. A desiccated block of solid air freshener hung from the ceiling, lending the room a faint smell of flowers.
The second interior door opened up onto a bedroom that was just big enough for a double bed. It was covered with a floral bedspread, and despite the decaying corpses next door, the air smelled of lavender.
I heard a soft thud and went back out to the living room. One of the man’s slippers had fallen off, revealing a threadbare sock. His foot twitched as he strained to get at me. The cord around his neck was cutting into the flesh. His mouth dropped open, revealing a purple tongue. He groaned. It was a thick, wet sound, repulsive.
I walked past the struggling zombies to the bookcase and scanned the shelves. They contained a three-volume Modern History of North America and a Bible. The history books were heavy, but I put them in my pack anyway. I’d need something to get me through the winter. I left the Bible behind. If there is a God, he gave up on me a long time ago.
The woman moaned, and a dribble of black fluid seeped over the edges of the cord around her neck. I knew I should kill them. If I was going to come back to the store for supplies, I needed to make sure it was safe. Leaving two zombies in the building was a stupid idea.
The shadow agreed, in its own way. I was safe here, it whispered. I could take advantage of my good fortune and set it free, right here, right now. Together, we could purge these two of their guilt.
Temptation gnawed at me. I even started to drag the coffee table over so that I could cut the man down. Then I stopped. Looking back, I don’t know why. It just didn’t seem right. The workshop was the shadow’s domain—this was just an old couple’s living room. I straightened the table and walked out of the room, making sure to close the door firmly behind me.
I went inside the store and grabbed as much propane, soup, chili, and energy bars as I could comfortably carry and put them into my backpack. I hesitated when I reached the packets of jerky but ended up taking four and sliding them into the pack’s front pocket—I might have hit the mother lode, but I couldn’t get complacent. There were some generic painkillers behind the counter, and I took those, too.
The pack rattled as I settled it on my back. I adjusted the straps so that it didn’t slip as I walked. It was heavy. Thankfully, I didn’t have a lot of hills to climb on the way back.
Outside, the wind had picked up, bringing a few clouds with it. I was glad for the break from the sun, but they held the threat of rain. A heavy thunderstorm could make the trails almost impassable. I checked the front door was closed then set off home.
By the time I got back to Camp Redfern, I was hungry, the cans of soup were digging into my spine, and I was beginning to regret picking up the books. The end result of all those distractions was that I was halfway across the camp by the time I noticed the door to the lodge was open. I cursed and ran, half crouched, to Cabin Two. I pressed myself up against the side of the building and removed my knife.
The backpack was slowing me down, but I didn’t have time to remove it before an ungainly young man with dark hair hanging to his shoulders came out of the lodge. His face was thin and as awkward as the rest of him. A straggly beard clung to his neck and chin. His hands were raised above his head. I tensed when I saw him, my grip tightening on the knife. I regretted not taking the rifle with me when I left the camp.
“It’s okay; we’re not here to cause trouble!”
He was shouting, and the sound made me wince. If there were any zombies nearby, he’d bring them right down on top of us, although maybe that would be for the best.
The man had obviously seen me; he was looking toward Cabin Two and my hiding place. He moved to the edge of the walkway and called again. “Please! We just need some help. Our friend is hurt.”
Our friend. That meant at least three people, possibly more. The world tilted a little and threatened to throw me onto the ground. I leaned against the cabin, focusing on the pack’s metal frame digging into my back until everything righted itself again. When I risked another look, the man was still standing there, hands still raised.
I could run, hide, go back to sleeping in trees. I had food and the river for water. There might be another camp to the north or maybe something even better. My tools were in the workshop, but I could go around the camp to get them. It seemed like the smartest option. I straightened up, ready to slip into the forest and be gone. And then the man called again.
“Please! We’re so tired. We just need a place to sleep. Even for one night.”
The shadow flickered to life. Already awakened by the discovery of the old couple, this latest development had it intrigued. Now there were other possibilities, other ways to gain satisfaction.
I walked out from behind the cabin.
As soon as he saw me, the young man started talking. “We’re not here to cause any problems, I promise. Our friend is hurt.” He must have seen something in my face because he held his hands out toward me and started talking even more quickly. “No, no, he wasn’t bit. Nothing like that. He’s got a fever or something. That’s all. He’s not a biter.”
I stopped a few feet away from the lodge, the knife held out in front of me in what I hoped was a threatening manner.
“What’s your name?” I’d managed to force some confidence into my voice, but it felt odd to be face-to-face with someone, having a conversation.
“I’m Alex. Lucy and Mike are inside.”
“And that’s all? There’s only three of you?”
“Yeah, just three.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Me and Mike are from Seattle. We met just outside the city. I got cornered by one of the biters, and he got me out of there. We met Lucy, and… We met Lucy a week later. She was hiding out in a house, but she’d run out of food.”
It all seemed plausible enough. “Why come no
rth? Why not stay in the city?”
“Biters, man. There’s packs of them everywhere. And the people are even worse. The military is trying to build walls and create a safe zone, but there ain’t nowhere safe anymore.”
I thought back to the swarm I’d seen on the road. Hopefully, this trio hadn’t led it to the camp. “How did you find this place?”
The young man pointed to his left. “The river. We were following it north and looking for somewhere Mike could rest when we found the camp. That’s it, man. I promise.”
A shadow moved across one of the lodge’s windows. I tensed. “Bring the others out.”
Alex called inside, and a few seconds later a woman in her midthirties appeared in the doorway.
“Come out!” I called.
The woman, Lucy presumably, stood next to Alex. She didn’t raise her hands, but she watched the knife.
“Where’s Mike?” I said.
“Inside sleeping,” Lucy said. “He’s hurt. He slipped down a slope and hit his head on a rock. He isn’t infected.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Two days, almost three.” She took a step toward me. “Please, we need somewhere to rest. Just until Mike’s fever breaks. We can help out here, keep watch for you and the others.”
I didn’t understand. “Others?”
Lucy frowned. “You mean… you’re the only person living here?”
I cursed my stupidity even as I considered trying to lie.
“But what about the stuff in the cabins?” Alex said.
He’d been exploring. Did that mean they’d also found the path to the workshop, maybe even the workshop itself? I began to panic until I realized that if they had, they wouldn’t be just standing there talking to me.
“You’ve been in the cabins?”
Alex had begun to lower his hands, but he held them out in front of him again. “No! No. I just looked through the window, just quickly. We needed to know if there was anyone here. I didn’t go in, just in case. Those biters get everywhere.”
I rubbed my hand across my chin as I tried to think of a way out of this. I might be holding the knife, but I was the one at a disadvantage.
I waved the weapon toward them. “Where else have you been?”
Alex pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Just the crapper, man, I swear.”
I raised my eyebrows at the woman, and she nodded. Again, I considered leaving—abandoning the camp to these interlopers and retreating to the forest. Maybe I could move to Sally’s Home Comforts after all. If I took the map with me, they might never find it. But someone else would. Eventually.
I lowered the knife. “Show me your friend.”
Chapter 18
Intruders
Lucy and Alex led me inside to the couch where Mike was lying. He was Asian—Chinese or Japanese maybe—and wearing dark blue jeans and a paler blue shirt. He was unconscious, his face beaded with sweat. He had a grimy bandage stuck to his forehead. It was stained with blood and starting to come loose. A damp cloth lay on the coffee table next to the couch. Blood had dripped across his left shoulder, staining the shirt, but it looked like it had come from his head wound.
He murmured softly as I approached, but it was the sound of someone dreaming, not the mindless droning of a zombie. I checked around his body, searching for bites without touching him. As far as I could tell he was clean. I looked at Lucy. She held my gaze, determined, ready to respond if I tried to force them to leave.
“You can stay one day,” I said.
It seemed like a fair compromise, but Lucy shook her head. “Please, we need a few days. Until Mike has recovered. Then we’ll leave.”
“Please, man,” Alex said. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it. The knuckles on his right hand were grazed.
I was ready to tell them no, that they had to leave, but the shadow cut off the words.
Instead, I nodded. “Okay, just until he’s better.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said. “We’re very grateful, and we’ll leave as soon as Mike’s well enough to travel.”
Alex grinned. “Thanks, man. You’ve saved our lives. Literally.”
“I should have some antibiotics. I’ll get them.” I didn’t really want to give the tablets away, but if it would help get them out of the camp, it was worth it.
They both thanked me.
I walked toward the dining room.
Lucy called after me. “What’s your name?”
I hesitated and considered telling the truth. Then I said, “Marcus Black.”
Lucy smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Marcus.”
I shrugged, hopeful it would imply it wasn’t a big deal, and went to the kitchen.
I swung my backpack up onto the table and removed the supplies I’d scavenged from the store. The only drugs I’d picked up were the painkillers. I picked up one of the containers and then retrieved the antibiotics from the cupboard above the sink. There were less than a dozen tablets left. The sight of them lying in the bottom of the container made me clench my teeth.
The shadow whispered to me, reminding me that there was an easy solution to the problem. My hand moved to the knife on my belt before I could stop it. I pictured myself cutting Lucy’s throat while she tended to Mike. Alex would be harder to surprise. He’d see me killing her, and he was taller than me and probably heavier. I shook my head. No, I didn’t need to kill them.
I considered holding some of the antibiotics back. I’d been lucky so far, but it was inevitable I’d get an infection at some point. Especially working so closely with the dead. In the end, I left all the tablets in the bottle. I put my backpack in the corner of the room and took the antibiotics and painkillers through to Lucy, along with a glass of water.
She thanked me and managed to get one of the tablets down Mike’s throat.
“Will that help?” Alex said.
“There’s not enough for a full course,” Lucy said, “but I hope so.”
The shadow eased back into my mind. I’d need to act before Mike recovered. I dismissed the thought. He’d get better, and then they’d leave.
Lucy, Alex, and I spent the day circling each other, warily—exchanging brief snippets of small talk when we had to but for the most part keeping busy and out of each other’s way.
As night fell, they gained a haunted, nervous look and glanced nervously toward the window so often I don’t think they even knew they were doing it. If I’d doubted that they’d spent time sleeping rough in the forest, that look would have eased those fears. I recognized it from my own face—too much time waiting for death to come stumbling out of the shadows.
They took turns watching Mike. Even though I’d gone through my normal checks and the perimeter would warn us if any zombies happened our way, they insisted on acting as lookouts for the camp itself as well.
When I went upstairs to my room, I left Lucy sitting by the window, watching for signs of danger while Alex snored loudly in the armchair. She was tense, nervous. The relative safety of the lodge seemed to have done nothing to dull the memories of whatever horrors she’d seen.
After my trip to the store, I was tired. My arms and legs were aching, and there were two red marks on my shoulders from the backpack.
Despite my weariness, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed, thinking about the other people in the lodge. Their presence stuck in my mind like grains of sand—grist for my thoughts. No matter how I tried to distract myself, no matter what tricks I played, my brain kept dragging me back to the existence of strangers in my sanctuary.
I felt violated.
The shadow was restless. It muttered in my ear. It insisted that these new arrivals were an opportunity not a threat. The shadow could sense their guilt. It was draped around them like a cloak and oozed from the pores in their skin.
The zombies we’d killed had provided a release for the shadow, but these people ignited memories of the years before the outbreak. The lodge was a perfect location to resume my true calling.
I resisted. I’d always picked solitary targets; it was safer that way. Even with Mike injured, it was too risky. I’d survived this long by being careful. This wasn’t the time to throw that caution away.
I lay in bed, battling with the shadow, for what felt like hours. Eventually, exhaustion won out, but my dreams were filled with imagined confrontations with Lucy and Alex. All of them culminated in the same thing—the discovery of the workshop and my handiwork and the two of them turning on me.
Chapter 19
The Cult
I woke early, hoping to get some time to make sure I hadn’t left any incriminating evidence lying around the lodge, but the intruders were already up. Lucy was tending to Mike while Alex made breakfast. She’d removed the old bandage and was dabbing Mike’s brow with a wet cloth. The cut on his head was deep and crusted with blood, the edges an angry red.
The smell of food hit me as soon as I opened the kitchen door. Alex had found the supplies I’d brought back from the store and was cooking vegetable soup on one of the portable gas stoves. The smell made my mouth water.
He heard me enter the kitchen and gestured toward the table. “Morning. Grab a bowl.”
My immediate reaction was anger. This was my home. These people had come here uninvited. I’d let them stay but only under duress. Now they were treating the lodge as though it was a hotel. At least he hadn’t tried to get the generator working.
Lucy walked into the kitchen. “How’s breakfast coming along?”
“I’m not sure soup is really breakfast, but it’s ready when you are.”
Lucy smiled and grabbed a bowl.
She gestured to me to go first, but I shook my head. “No, go on.”
“Thanks.”
I watched her spoon the soup into her bowl. She looked worn down, but there was determination in her eyes. I wasn’t sure how Alex had managed to live through the early days of the outbreak, but Lucy’s strength was obvious. I’d need to be careful around her.
Serial Killer Z Page 9
