A soldier stumbled out of the lodge, his face twisted in fear. He backed down the walkway, firing into the building as he went. His gun swung from side to side, the shots scattering wildly. I couldn’t tell whether he was hitting anything, but I could see the lumbering shape of a zombie advancing toward him out of the lodge.
And then the soldier’s foot caught the edge of the walkway, and he went down. Bullets sprayed across the side of the building as he fell. The zombie lunged forward and landed on top of the soldier before he could get his weapon pointing in the right direction. The zombie clamped down on the soldier’s throat, cutting off his screams.
Too late, Campbell rounded the corner of the Humvee and opened fire. Bullets tore through the zombie’s shoulder then his skull. As the zombie fell away, she fired one more shot. The bullet hit the soldier in the side of the head.
Campbell turned, firing past me toward the road.
“Sergeant!” I said. “I can help.” I half turned my back on her and wiggled my hands to remind her she’d handicapped me. “Please.”
She hesitated, and a zombie staggered around the corner of the Humvee. One arm was missing, its shoulder a ragged mess of blood and gristle.
“Look out!” I said.
She turned and swung the butt of her rifle. It caught the zombie in the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. She slammed the heel of her boot into his skull. There was a hollow crack as it shattered.
Campbell raised her gun and fired at something out of my view then ran to me. She removed my knife from her belt and cut the plastic ties from around my wrists. After a slight pause, she gave me the knife.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
I nodded, hoping I looked confident.
“Good,” she said and handed me her pistol.
Vantage appeared. He saw me holding the gun, and I half raised my hands, trying to show him I wasn’t a threat before he shot me.
He glared at me and then said, “Robson’s down and out.”
Campbell clenched her teeth and pressed a hand against her headset. “Davis? Come in, Davis?”
Vantage pointed. “There!”
Davis was just backing into view around the side of the lodge. She was holding her rifle at her hip and firing short bursts at targets we couldn’t see.
“Davis!” said Campbell.
Still firing, Davis turned. There was a metallic clang and then a deafening thump. The side of the lodge was torn apart as the generator exploded. Wood and dirt and fire rained down on the camp. Davis screamed and clutched her face, blood pouring from a gash in her cheek. Vantage ran to her side and slipped an arm under her shoulder, guiding her back to the Humvee.
“Hold them off!” said Campbell, and she climbed into the vehicle’s cab.
The road was a mass of zombies. I raised the pistol and fired off a couple of shots. One of them went down; another staggered backward. With so many of them crowded into one place, it was hard to miss.
Fire spread through the lodge, the flames eagerly swallowing up the dry wood. Smoke drifted across the camp, hindering visibility.
The Humvee’s engine roared to life, adding more noise and smoke to the scene. I fired again, hitting another zombie in the chest. There was a flash and the sound of gunfire from within the Humvee. Campbell screamed in anger and pain.
A pause.
Another shot rang out, and blood splashed against the driver’s window.
“No!” said Vantage. He slipped his arm from beneath Davis’s shoulder and ran around the front of the Humvee, firing as he went.
Still holding her hand to her cheek, Davis fired at the zombies swarming down the road. Following her lead, I raised the pistol and fired. Again and again, I pulled the trigger, the pistol jerking in my hand until I heard the dull click of an empty clip. I don’t know if I hit anything.
Davis had switched to single shots. She was down on one knee, picking off the zombies with finely placed rounds. Vantage was nowhere to be seen.
Find the case, whispered the shadow.
My eyes were streaming, and I could barely see. A zombie broke through the wall of smoke from the direction of the lodge. His back was on fire, creating a yellow aura around him. I shouted to Davis, and she turned and fired. The bullet hit him in the chest, knocking him over. Her rifle clicked empty. The burning zombie got back to its feet and staggered toward us. Davis threw her weapon away in frustration.
“Come on!” I said and moved around to the side of the Humvee.
Vantage was lying on the ground about twenty feet away, four zombies clustered around him. He was facing me, dull eyes staring lifelessly into mine as the creatures tore into his stomach. The corpse of a zombie lay on the ground nearby, a single bullet wound in his head.
Davis joined me. Her skin was pale, and her neck was awash with blood from the wound in her cheek.
“What now?” she said.
The shadow flashed a parade of images in my mind—me pushing Davis toward the pack of zombies. Her screaming in agony as she was torn apart by the swarm, the distraction giving me time to escape.
“Hold on.”
The Humvee’s window had been blown out. Blood and broken glass was splashed around the inside. I pulled open the door, and Campbell’s body tumbled to the ground. Davis cried out. The back of Campbell’s skull was missing where she’d taken her own life—her response to the ragged bite mark on her arm.
Another zombie lay motionless across the passenger seat where it had clambered in through the open door. There was no sign of my case.
Clenching my teeth, I leaned inside and pushed the zombie out of the way. Its head lolled sideways. Instinctively, I pulled back, away from its snapping jaws, but the side of the creature’s face was missing, and it was dead. I caught a glimpse of brown in the footwell. My case had fallen off the seat and slid almost out of sight.
I checked over my shoulder. The smoke was making it hard to see what was going on, but I could hear the moans of the zombies above the crackle and pop of the burning lodge. My head pounding, I climbed into the Humvee and reached for the case.
Gunfire exploded somewhere off to my left, and I slipped. I fell forward. In other circumstances the sight of my legs flailing around in midair as I tried to right myself might have been funny. All I could think of was how tempting I would look to the zombies out there in the smoke.
My fingers grazed the edge of the case. I just about managed to drag it out from beneath the seat. Black blood was smeared across the lid, but otherwise, it looked intact. I hurriedly pushed myself back out of the Humvee. Davis watched me put the case into my jacket pocket, the look on her face a mix of anger and amazement.
“That way,” I said, pointing between the two nearest cabins.
The path seemed clear, at least for now. Davis nodded and ran.
I slipped my knife into my belt and grabbed my snare.
Chapter 42
Blood and Smoke
We sprinted through the smoke.
Halfway to the cabin, I tripped over a soldier’s corpse, Robson maybe. I stumbled and almost dropped the snare.
A shape rose up in front of me—a massive man in a military uniform with a ragged hole in the center of his chest. Bizarrely, the only thought that went through my mind was that I couldn’t see how he’d have fit in a Humvee.
Then the shadow took over, and I swung the snare. The blade I’d bolted to the end of the pole slashed across the man’s throat. Slicing it open released a wave of black tar. He grabbed at me, but he was slow, and I ducked beneath the attack. I jabbed the snare forward. The blade sank into the man’s cheek. I felt it hit bone, yanked it back, and then jabbed it at his face again. It pierced his eye.
The zombie roared. I attacked again, but this time he knocked the snare away. The pole was long and unwieldy, and I struggled to get it back under control as the giant man closed on me. Then he slammed his fist into the side of my head.
I fell sideways, my head ringing from the blow. Th
e zombie came at me. I tried to swing the snare toward him again, but he was too close. The pole hit him in the leg, but he didn’t react or slow his approach. I dropped the snare and pushed myself backward, desperately trying to get out of his path.
He took a few steps then collapsed onto his knees. The damage I’d done was finally having an effect. Then his hand clamped around my calf. I yelled out as he dragged himself toward me, his clawlike fingers sinking into my flesh. I fumbled with my knife, and it almost slipped from my fingers.
There was a blur of brown, and a booted foot slammed into the zombie’s head. It snapped left, and he let out a moan. Davis kicked again. The zombie’s grip around my calf loosened, and I pulled myself free.
The massive zombie reached for Davis. I lunged at him and drove my knife into the top of his skull. Still refusing to die, he swung an elbow at me. It connected with the corner of my eye. Stars burst across my vision. I fell back and began kicking, desperate to block any attacks coming my way, but he’d finally stopped moving. Thick black blood poured from around the edges of the knife still embedded in his skull.
Davis gripped my arm and pulled. “Come on!”
Another explosion roared from somewhere behind us, the vehicles or more of the lodge going up in flames.
I forced myself to my feet, and we ran, weaving between the cabins and into the forest. There was no trail, and we had to push our way through the undergrowth. Brambles tugged at our clothes and skin. Progress was slow and noisy.
Davis’s shoulder was soaked in blood, and she held her arm limply at her side. She was breathing heavily, and her forehead was drenched with sweat. The cut in her cheek was still bleeding, albeit slower now.
I pointed to our right where a pair of zombies were pushing their way through the forest. We crouched, both ready to run if we needed to, but they were moving away from us, toward the noise and excitement of the camp.
When the zombies were out of sight, we started moving again, sporadic gunfire and the screams of the dying echoing through the forest around us.
Chapter 43
A Way to Live
We pushed on until we found a narrow trail. It wound through the forest, heading south. There was no sign of any zombies. Davis’s breathing came in ragged gasps. Several times she stumbled, tripping over her own feet.
The trail broke through a ring of trees into a small clearing. A stream, almost completely dry, ran through its center. Davis stumbled forward and dropped to her knees. She pressed her hand against her injured shoulder, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Aargh!” she said, her vehemence making me flinch.
“We’ll rest for a few minutes.”
Davis shook her head.
“You need to rest. We both do.”
Davis shifted position until she was sitting down. Still clutching her shoulder, she shook her head again. “You’re going to leave me here.”
“No, I’m—”
Davis removed her hand. A ragged lump of flesh had been torn away from her shoulder, revealing the muscle and bone beneath it. Blood still pulsed from the wound, but the edges were already turning black.
“I… I’m sorry.”
Davis let out a little snort. “So am I.” Grimacing, she said. “You should go now.”
“Don’t you want me to…”
She swallowed. “No. I think I’d like to stay here awhile.”
I felt a pang of unexpected emotion, sympathy maybe.
There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound hollow. Instead, I nodded, my lips pressed tight. We sat in silence for a few minutes while I struggled to think of something to say, but it was Davis who finally spoke, her voice barely audible. “You should go. Please.”
I looked around at the clearing. It was pretty. Secluded. She wouldn’t be disturbed.
I offered her my hand, and she shook it. “Thank you,” I said. “For saving my life.”
“It’s my job.”
I smiled slightly and stood.
Davis lay back on the ground and stared up at the sky. I waited, trying one last time to think of the right words to say. Then I turned and walked toward the forest.
As I reached the edge of the clearing, Davis called to me. “Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“What happened at the workshop?”
I turned back. She was still lying on the ground, her head tilted so that she could see me.
“I found a way to live as myself,” I said.
Davis smiled, but her face was full of sorrow. She nodded slightly before looking back up at the sky.
I watched her for a moment. Then the shadow and I turned and walked into the forest.
Serial Killer Z Continues
NOVEMBER 2017
Thank You
Thanks for reading Serial Killer Z, I hope you enjoyed the book.
I’ve always had a soft spot for zombies. Return of the Living Dead is one of my favorite movies, and The Walking Dead is one of the few TV shows on my “must see” list. But other than a couple of very short stories, I’d always shied away from writing about them. Zombies are extraordinarily popular but it’s hard to bring something new to the genre without losing the elements that make zombies so much fun.
Even when the idea of throwing a serial killer into the zombie apocalypse came to me (in the gym of all places), I resisted. But the idea just wouldn’t let go. Pretty quickly that basic premise had grown into a series of books and, eventually, I gave in and started writing. I’m glad I did. It turns out writing about a serial killer and zombies is a lot of fun. I'm four books into the series so far, and I'm loving writing them.
Of course, writing a book is only the first step in the journey to publication and this particular book had a long and tumultuous birth involving multiple editors, theft, fraud, and various other unsavoury twists and turns. If we ever meet, buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.
The fact that this book exists after all the drama is down to the sterling work of my editor, Jason Whited, and my proofreaders at Red Adept Editing and Pikko’s House. Thank you.
And a special thank you to James, a zombie enthusiast and good friend of mine who was kind enough to read an early draft of the book and give me feedback. It’s a better book as a result.
If you’d like to find out how the zombie apocalypse started and what part Marcus played in it, you can get a free copy of the prequel novella, Infection, by signing up for my newsletter at http://smarturl.it/SKZNews. Subscribers also get discounted and free books, behind-the-scenes extras, and all sorts of other goodies.
Marcus’s story continues with the next book in the series—Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary. It’s another rollercoaster of a ride through the zombie-infested world with some fiendish twists and turns. And zombies. Lots of zombies. Sanctuary will be published at the beginning of November 2017 and newsletter subscribers will be able to get it at a heavily discounted price.
About the Author
Philip Harris is a speculative fiction author and video game developer. Originally born near Oxford, England, he now lives on the West Coast of Canada where he spends his days developing video games and his nights writing speculative fiction—anything from horror to science fiction to fantasy.
His first publication, Letter From a Victim, appeared in the award-winning magazine, Peeping Tom, in 1995. His published books include The Leah King Trilogy and an homage to the old pulp science fiction serials—Glitch Mitchell and the Unseen Planet.
His short fiction has appeared in numerous anthologies and magazines including The Jurassic Chronicles, Tales from the Canyons of the Damned, Bones, Uncommon Minds, and The Anthology of European SF.
He has also worked as security for Darth Vader.
For up-to-date information on new releases, free ebooks, and other exclusive extras, please sign up to the mailing list at http://smarturl.it/SKZNews.
www.solitarymindset.com
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Also by Ph
ilip Harris
Serial Killer Z
Infection (Prequel)
Serial Killer Z
Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary
The Leah King Trilogy
The Leah King Trilogy Box Set
The Girl in the City
The Girl in the Wilderness
The Girl in the Machine
Other Novels
Glitch Mitchell and the Unseen Planet
Short Stories
Bottled Lightning
Curfew
Serial Killer Z
by Philip Harris
Copyright © 2017 by Philip Harris
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN (Print) 978-1-988968-02-5
ISBN (Ebook) 978-1-988968-03-2
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Cover design by Bookfly Design
Edited by Jason Whited
Proofreading by Red Adept Editing
Even more proofreading by Pikko’s House
Serial Killer Z Page 20
