Four (Their Dead Lives,1)

by Scott, Zack

  Alec knelt by the berth his friend rested on. Jeff's face was stained with dirt and blood, his soft blond hair was a mass of knots and mud, and his black uniform was shredded and torn all over, but under the fabric, his skin was whole. All his cuts had healed, some had even turned into scars. On his thigh was a leg holster. Empty. Alec wanted the gun, or anything to help protect Nicole. She was the only person, the only thing, worth living for. So he returned to the berth where she lay, covered only by a thin blanket. He snuck under the covers, pulled her close and kissed her hair. His world went dark but fire crossed his memory.

  Flames forever burn.

  SCOT

  How I love her emerald eyes.

  They sat, forming a sloppy circle in the back of the food mart. Scot was across from Kelsey, Sadie next to him, and the newest member to the group, CJ, a tall, lanky teen, who wore a dirty baseball uniform, black and gold, the colors of the Green Hills Panthers. His once-white pants were stained with grass, blood, and brains.

  CJ had arrived at the food mart while Scot was out cold. Apparently, CJ had been with his teammates celebrating a victorious practice (celebrating like Scot and his friends had tried to do that same night) when the undead attacked them. CJ was the only survivor and claimed to have killed at least three zombies with his metal alloy bat. Bashing Betty, he called it. He held the bat close as they sat around talking, passing the time, waiting for the old man, Nasir, to tell them their next move.

  Scot found it funny they had stayed at the food mart. They didn’t know this man Nasir. Yes, he saved them, but that shouldn’t earn trust right away. Then again, what else were they to do? It was dangerous outside, Scot’s parents were out of town, and his ‘friends’ could be anywhere. So he really had no reason to leave. Here they had food, drinks, and contact solution for his poor dry eyes. He knew they couldn’t stay for too long, though, because the mart wasn’t exactly the safest place to take refuge given its glass doors, small and cramped space. The survivors could easily be overwhelmed, trapped, and messily devoured.

  But they sat around, talking quietly and snacking. Scot munched on a bag of cheese nachos, peanut butter cups, and he downed a Vitamin Water for good measure. I’m just asking for the diabetes. His eyes would every so often latch to beer in the fridge behind Kelsey. How he wanted to take one. There will be time for that, I’m sure.

  At the glass door, Nasir was standing guard with his sniper rifle. He’d yet to part with it. Scot thought it silly to stand by the door. Much easier to be seen. But the man seemed to know what he was doing. And he knows something about me. Why else did he bring me to the roof? What does he want? Is he dangerous? All these questions fueled Scot’s desire for the beer, though he preferred whiskey. Survivors can’t be choosers.

  There was only one reason why Nasir brought Scot to the roof, he guessed. The well. That day in high school will forever haunt me. But how could Nasir possibly know about that? Impossible, Scot decided. Alec had said nothing, and no matter how badly Jeff and Kale wanted them to embrace whatever ‘power’ they were given, they wouldn’t go blabbering about it either, or at least Scot hoped.

  Why did he just leave me on the roof? Is he toying with me? Maybe I’m not the person he thought? Beer, beer, bee—

  Nasir stood over them. His face was composed of grey curly hair, wrinkled tan skin, a massive mole under his eye, and thick eyebrows. “We leave soon. Gather any food and water you can.”

  Sadie asked quickly, “Where are we going?”

  “North.”

  “What’s north?” CJ asked next.

  “Safety.”

  Scot squinted at him. “Can we get more than a one word answer?”

  “Soon.” After this response, Scot swore Nasir hid a slight smile. “Ten minutes. Bring what you must.”

  The younger survivors turned to one another.

  “What do you want to do?” Scot asked Kelsey.

  She looked over at Sadie, who merely shrugged.

  CJ stood. “I’m going with him. He’s badass and I don’t know what else to do.” The teen quickly stuffed snacks and drinks in his baseball equipment bag.

  “What do you think?” Kelsey asked Scot.

  “What reasons do we have to stay here?”

  “Uh, our friends, family, our home,” said Sadie.

  Scot wasn’t fond of her, mostly because she despised him. She was one of those stubborn people who’d never let you back in their good graces. Then again, he’d never tried. Scot said, “My parents are vacationing in Florida. Kelsey’s family doesn’t live here anymore and—”

  “It’s not all about you, Scot,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “He has a point,” Kelsey stated. “Where will we go?”

  “We could all stay at my parents’ place if you want.”

  Sadie huffed. “Death walkers or not, I’m not staying at your place, Scot.”

  Death walkers?

  “Sadie,” Kelsey shot her name in a whisper.

  “What? He’s still a douche mongrel.”

  Scot threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m going with Nasir.” His answer stemmed from a combination of things. First, he had to find out whether Nasir knew something about him he himself didn’t know. Second, he figured Sadie would never leave with him. Third, Kelsey. He couldn’t leave Kelsey, and Sadie would never leave her either. He guessed he was stuck with Sadie. He groaned. I should let them talk it out. He stood and went to help CJ load his backpack, but the teen had already finished, waiting next to Nasir.

  “You ready?” CJ asked Scot.

  “I need some contact solution.”

  “Do you have glasses?”

  “Yeah, but I forgot we’d planned a zombie apocalypse party last night, so I left them at home.”

  “Sarcasm is the language of the devil, bro.” CJ raised his chin and Scot fought the urge to smack him across the face. Nasir had no interest in their conversation as he waited patiently for everyone to get ready. When it came time to leave, everyone did the reasonable thing, Scot thought. Venture out with Nasir. No surprise that Sadie decided to join. She won’t leave Kelsey. Or she just wants to bug me. Or both.

  They traveled quickly through the streets, surrounded by a lush suburban paradise. They were a few miles away from the town’s main shopping center, which was close to the coast. But they wouldn’t head that way. Nasir was determined to find a car suitable for their travels. The Jeep that was left at the gas station would be too vulnerable to an attack. At least, that was what Nasir had told CJ when CJ expressed a desire to drive the Jeep.

  They found an abandoned SUV on the road side. Its front door hung open. An arm dangled limply from the driver’s seat. Blood dripped slowly off of lifeless fingers, forming a small puddle on concrete. Nasir told them to stay back as he approached the vehicle. CJ unsheathed Bashing Betty and got into a swinging stance.

  Scot tried to come up with a sarcastic comment to make fun of him, but given their current situation, he held his tongue.

  Nasir knelt by the SUV and grabbed bloodstained keys from under the driver’s dangling hand. He peeked in the SUV, and then waved for the group to get in. Sadie sat in the front seat, CJ hopped into the far back, and Scot sat in the middle with Kelsey. Nasir drove them. Where are we going? Scot wished he had a clue. They passed his old school. They passed the old neighborhood where he used to live. They passed his favorite movie theater, bowling alley, and his favorite make-out spot overlooking the ocean. They headed north, away from Green Hills, away from his hometown he’d once loved. They went back up the Pacific Coast Highway, the same highway he had driven down just the other day with his now-deceased girlfriend for the reunion.

  Angie...

  All he’d needed to do was tell her the truth back at his house. She would’ve been sad and angry, but at least she’d be alive. I was too weak, too pathetic to set her free. And he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for her. I’m...feeling something...and making it about myself again! I’m doomed. He pr
essed his face against the cool glass of his window.

  They sped north, the ocean at his side and in the far distance a yacht headed in the same direction.

  EVANS

  The sooner you act, the sooner you save her.

  Specialist Evans of the VTF stood on the upper deck of the yacht, leaned against a white railing while he watched Erica. She was on the sun deck, lying on her stomach, tanning. Her bra was unsnapped, her back bare. People grieve in mysterious ways. Her dark brown hair hung off the lounge chair, almost grazing the wood floor. Evans unclipped his body armor and left it on the closest lounge chair along with his carbine. He knelt by Erica’s side. She didn’t move. He cleared his throat.

  Still no movement, so he stretched a hand over her back when she mumbled drowsily, “What do you want?”

  “To check on you.”

  If her arm had moved the slightest, he would’ve seen her breast as she lifted to face him. “Check on me for what?”

  “Generally speaking, how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m dandy. My boyfriend gets shot in the head. My boss gets eaten by those stinking creatures. And I’m trapped here on a boat with people I don’t know. But hey, at least the sun is out.” She grabbed her bra and sat straight. Her toned legs pressed against Evans and he moved out of the way. “What? Shy now? You weren’t on the dock when you kissed me last night.”

  You’re infected. “It was—”

  “A moment.” Her eyes were hostile. “A random moment, but a moment.”

  Evans forced half a smile. “Yes.” He glanced away from her cold eyes and back to her bare legs. Her thighs, her knees, her calves. Last of all, his eyes wandered down to her ankles. Her hand shot down to cover the wound.

  “Erica...”

  “It’s nothing,” she snapped.

  “Move your hand.”

  “No.”

  He looked up at her. She clenched her lips.

  “Did one bite you on the dock last night?”

  “Why? You want to shoot me like you shot Tommy?”

  She knows it was me? Evans stood. “I want to save you. I will save you if you let me.” He lowered his hand to hers, touching her fingers. “Lift your leg.”

  Flicking her fingers against her ankle, she hesitated but allowed him to examine her leg. A dark shade of red splotched with green surrounded the bite mark in a spreading radius. Decay, spreading up her leg. The green grew lighter the farther it spread up her ankle.

  “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” He realized this was a stupid question and he deserved the brusque answer he got in return.

  “Tommy.”

  “Let’s go to my uncle. He and Pat will help you.” He grabbed her arm but she tugged it away. “Erica.”

  Limping a step from the lounge, she yanked her t-shirt from his hands and pulled it over her head. She spun around for her jeans but before she could grab them, Evans stomped his boot down on them. She tried tugging them out from underneath the specialist but had no luck. “Give them to me!”

  “No.”

  “Fine!” She gestured impatiently and turned to go, but Evans grabbed her and yanked her to the railing.

  “Get off me!”

  “Erica, listen to me.”

  She spat at his face, the gob of saliva grazing his eye. Without letting go, he tugged, wrapping her tight, pinning her against his chest. She kicked and screamed a few more seconds until she surrendered. Body heaving, she stared quietly up at him. Their faces were only inches apart. Tears broke, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He rubbed her back, trying to provide some comfort. At least, he hoped it was comforting.

  “I won’t let you die like Tommy. I won’t. Come downstairs and I promise you, it’ll all be okay.”

  Sobbing, she nodded, and he kissed her forehead gently. She reached for his face, moving her lips for his but he pulled away.

  “I—”

  Her eyes went cold again. “Right, I’m damaged goods now.”

  Erica followed him to the captain’s cabin without further resistance. His uncle and Pat were already preparing for the operation. They had Erica lie on the bed. Pat tended to her while Dylan grabbed his nephew and helped him to the door.

  “I want to stay,” said Evans.

  “Wait outside. This will get messy. I need you to keep watch for any other boats. Protect us out there.”

  “Who will protect you in here if something goes wrong?”

  Dylan smiled at Pat. “He’s good with a hand-axe.”

  A heavy sigh squeezed from Evans’ nostrils. “Let me talk to her real quick.” He stepped around his uncle to the large bed Erica was on. With each step he weighed the decision.

  If it works, how will she act? Will she threaten our survival?

  If it doesn’t, how much danger are we in?

  Should I just take my gun and end it now?

  He reached the bed and knelt by her side, contemplating a no-risk solution.

  “You sure do like to kneel in front of me.” Her smile was groggy and her voice slurred from the alcohol Pat had given her as a makeshift anesthetic. “Maybe you’ll kiss me on the lips after this?”

  A forced half-smile. “If this works, I’ll kiss you wherever.” He took her hand, pressed it against his own cheek, and stood. The whole time he’d been kneeling, his fingers were against his holster. But as he rose, he killed that option. We can save her. He nodded at Pat, who had the hand-axe ready, then left, closing the cabin door gently behind him.

  In the hall were four alcoves for sleeping. Alec and his girlfriend were in one and across from them lay the damaged Jeff. He looked at his unconscious mate. You survived this long, bud, don’t quit on me now.

  Evans stepped out to the main deck. The other two survivors, Kale and Howard, were sleeping on the benches. All were accounted for—except the deputy.

  On the upper deck, Evans found Miller examining his carbine. Stupid of me to leave it out for anyone to use. “What do you think?” The deputy seemed harmless enough, but Evans was ready to draw and fire if he made the wrong move.

  Deputy Miller startled in surprise, almost dropped the weapon. “It’s nice. We didn’t get to use these back in Green Hills.”

  “I doubt you needed one in Green Hills.”

  “Ha! True, until last night.”

  Evans took his weapon, strapped it to his back over his body armor.

  “So are you some kind of special agent or what?”

  Evans stepped to the white railing and the deputy followed him. “I’m a Marine, assigned to the Vault Tactical Force.”

  “That sounds made up.”

  “Everything gets made up.”

  Miller scratched his head, pondering this. I was being sarcastic, you idiot.

  “Anyways,” said Evans, “you did good on the roof. I saw you take a few of them out.”

  “Well, thanks. Glad I got some of these kids somewhere safe.”

  “You know them?”

  “I went to high school with most of them. I busted Kale for drunk driving last night, not that it really matters now.”

  “How about Nicole?”

  “Man, she has one fine body, don’t she?” Miller smiled lecherously, his lips curling back to reveal his small teeth.

  “Yeah, well she’s dating the Mexican version of Zac Efron, so don’t get too excited.”

  “Efron has made some good movies now, I mean he started out as a twerp but he’s grown into a fine actor. But I don’t think Alec is Mexican.”

  He takes everything with a pound of salt. “He’s some kind of Latino.”

  “Alec Gutierrez? Yeah, suppose so. Oh, wait, I think his real name is Alejandro. I forget why he changed it.”

  Evans was growing tired of this pointless conversation. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Stay up here and keep a look out for any boats, ships, or anything. Come down and get me if you spot anything.”

  Miller nodded. “Will do.”

&nb
sp; “Okay on ammo?” He should be.

  “Yeah, got those bullets you gave me this morning.”

  “Amen. Make them count.” Evans left, made his way back to the cabin, passing all the sleeping people on the interior berths, and pressed against the cabin door to listen. Quiet inside. They seem to have already finished. He pushed the door open and his uncle waved for him to enter. He closed it behind him.

  Erica lay semi-conscious on the bed. Her face was pale and her lips quivered. Blood-soaked towels covered what was left of her leg. In the bathroom, Pat rinsed off the axe and explained, “We had to take the leg, at her upper calf. If it kept spreading it would’ve turned her.”

  “You’re sure?” Evans helped his uncle to his feet.

  “We’re pretty sure. Not all the way. It was our best course of action, though.”

  And if it doesn’t work, then I have the only cure. His fingers brushed against his holstered gun.

  “How’s it looking out there?” his uncle asked.

  “Us and the water.”

  “Good, keep an eye on her for a second, realized I left my shotgun up in the bridge. Not the smartest thing.”

  Runs in the family. Evans made his way to the bed and knelt once again by Erica’s side. He grabbed her hand. Her fingers moved but they were weak. Drool dripped off her lips. He grabbed a towel and dabbed her mouth. Her eyes were distant.

  “I’m alive?”

  “Yes. You’re safe now.”

  Sampson wanted me to save her. I did that. I fulfilled his final order. This time, Erica forced a half-smile and Evans got excited, too excited, at the idea of kissing her again. As he tightened his grip around her hand, the cabin door swung open. He figured Uncle Dylan had just left the room. He figured wrong.

  Kale stepped in, aimed Dylan’s shotgun at Erica.

  Evans leapt to his feet, reaching for his pistol. “No!”

  Kale pumped.

  The spread flew across the room, and Erica’s face exploded in a shower of blood. Evans struck Kale before he could pump again, pinned him to the ground, and threw the shotgun out of reach. A vein bulged from Evans’ forehead as he throttled Kale.

  “Jonny!” his uncle cried. “Jonny, what did he do?”