Four (Their Dead Lives,1)

by Scott, Zack

  Silence filled the forest. There were no moans, no stumbling nor sprinting feet, no screams—only peace.

  Kelsey found the strength to speak. “I knew Scot a long time. I’m lucky for our time together, even during the hard times. To have seen him—” She sniffed and leaned down over his grave, pressing her hands into the dirt. “Scot was, well some thought he was an asshole.” She cried a laugh and shut her eyes against the tears threatening to flow. “And he was at times, but he meant well. His heart beat in the right place, and I’m glad he finally got to show it.” She kissed her hand above the grave and whispered her love to him.

  Nasir addressed Sofia, even though he saw Addison in the doorway, “We’ve been moving enough these past days. I believe the time for rest has come. If it is okay with you, we would like to stay here.”

  “Of course, that’s fine. Let me ask Addy and make sure.”

  “They can do whatever,” he blurted behind her.

  That night, Addison asked Sofia to sleep in a guest room with Kelsey. He needed to be alone. The bounty hunter and the porn star kept watch downstairs.

  The master bedroom was a dark orange, lit by a lantern on a dresser. Although the bed had given him so much comfort the previous night, he was now sickened at the sight of it and cowered on the wooden floor.

  Addison had found a Smith Wesson .38 and an ammo box in the cabin. Maniac Mike’s gun? The pistol shook in his hand. A 2-inch barrel with five round capacity; he loaded rounds three and four. The fifth bullet fell from his shaking fingers. His neck twitched back and forth, a strong exhalation broke loose, and he fumbled to pick up the final bullet.

  The shut bedroom door glowed, looking like an orange portal. He wanted to walk through it and transport somewhere else. Footsteps outside, a girl’s voice, another voice responding, then silence.

  Addison dropped the .38 on the bed and covered his face with both hands, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. This isn’t worth it. This isn’t worth it.

  With one hand still against his face, he dropped the other to the revolver. This paranoia, this hell. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t. His fingers wrapped around the gun’s small handle and slowly he raised it to his temple. You were wrong, Brody. You were wrong about hope. You thought that kid out there could save us. You were wrong!

  Addison touched the trigger. One pull and the nightmare ends.

  A gentle knock at the door. “Addy,” whispered Sofia from the hall. “Please, let us talk.”

  The .38 shook against his head.

  “Addy, please...” She touched the handle. Locked.

  One second and this all will pass. Leave, you can leave now. Addison closed his eyes and welcomed peace.

  Sofia came to him, and her hair, lips, eyes, neck, breasts, hands, legs—all of her gave him peace.

  They lay next to one another at dawn. Her naked body was wrapped in light yellow sheets, dimpled back facing him. All expectations were exceeded during their first, second, third, and fourth love-making sessions.

  Addison wrapped his arms around Sofia, kissing her caramel shoulder. With every touch to her flesh, he thought about the .38 hidden below the mattress.

  ALEC

  The bandage around Nicole’s head was thick and clean. Her face was ghostly pale compared to her usual olive color, and Alec thought her so beautiful as he stared at her closed eyes, and her sleeping face, and he wondered where her mind traveled. He gripped her hand, rubbing a finger over her skin. Screw the living, screw the dead, all I need is for you to survive. He needed her here, needed to hear her voice, needed to feel life in her lips. Her face had kept him going since they first met, since that day in the well, since losing his brother.

  If she were ever put beneath the ground, his own soul would be buried with her, and fear would cloud his mind, hate would fill his veins.

  Dr. Dylan had told him Nicole suffered some head trauma but she should wake soon and be fine. Alec didn’t trust the doctor, but as he stared at her, he fought to keep faith or hope, or anything that would help bring her back.

  A light knock, and the exam room door creaked open. “Homer,” Alec whispered without looking.

  “How is she?” Jeff’s soft voice asked.

  Alec turned, his head low. “She has to live.”

  “She will.”

  “You say that, but you don’t know anything.”

  “I know this,” Jeff started, easing into the room and shutting the door behind him. A soft clank. “I know what happened to us in the well, it has more meaning than we ever—”

  “Of all the things to say, when I’m so worried about her, you bring that up? Really, Jeff?”

  “The Embracer came back, Alec. It took Kale. It—”

  Alec let Nicole go, pushed off a rolling stool, and snapped his face right in front of Jeff’s, staring into those ice blue eyes. “If we had some kind of power, Nicole wouldn’t be like this. Brian wouldn’t be dead, and Kale wouldn’t be gone.” His lips shook, his gums filling with spit. “So don’t tell me there’s a meaning to us!” He huffed and returned to the stool, rolling it back to the bedside. Sometimes, Homer, sometimes I want to gouge out your eyes.

  “Look,” Jeff said, walking to the black counter, next to the sink, “I know what you’re going through—”

  “No.” Alec turned to the side. “You have never been in love, not like this.”

  Silence behind Alec. Jeff had no idea what to say.

  “I’m preparing to leave soon with Evans. I know your help would be appreciated.”

  “Leaving for where?”

  “We need food. Hopefully find some weapons.”

  Alec had a scalpel in his pocket, ready to stab anything that came for the exam room. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Well, at least help around here? Keep watch and keep safe?”

  I’ll watch over her. “Sure.”

  “Alec, I...”

  “You can leave now. Good luck out there.”

  A soft breath slipped from Jeff’s mouth. He stepped for the doorway but stopped at the edge of the bed. He touched the white paper covering it, fingers close to Nicole’s foot. “I doubt you can hear me right now,” he started, staring at her closed eyelids. What is he doing? He continued, “But I did give you and Sadie a promise. My nickname, Homer: I wish the story was better. Back then, I said it came from my baseball skills in little league, but . . . truth is, I just watched a lot of The Simpsons. Hell, when my addiction to South Park got crazy, I tried to get everyone to call me Cartman.” He glanced at Alec, then touched her ankle. “Anyway, get back to him, Nicole.”

  Jeff went for the doorway, when Alec stopped him. “Homer.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  Jeff nodded. He wanted to say something, but fought the urge.

  “Let me hear it,” said Alec.

  “Kale.” The name came quickly. “When we’re fixed up, we have to find him.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “He saved us back then, Alec. He got us out of that well. We owe him this.”

  “Where would we even look?”

  Jeff grabbed the door, searching for an answer. “I, I just know we can find him. We have to.”

  “You’re insane like him.”

  Jeff let go. “Maybe.”

  Alec shook his head. “Don’t come back in here, got it?”

  “I need your help. I can’t do this alone. We leave as—”

  “GET OUT!”

  Jeff vanished.

  Alec slammed the door, hunching over with a hand wrapped around the handle. His forehead pressed against wood, his chest heaving. With his eyes closed, the room spun, but he forced himself to anchor, fighting to keep from screaming. If he could take Nicole and hide, or flee into the night, he would. But his body slid back on the stool and he grabbed her, alone with his love once more.

  Another knock on the door awoke Alec sometime later. Dr. Dylan hobbled in with his wooden cane. Without saying a word, he lifted Nicole’s eyelids,
shining a small light as he examined her.

  “How does she look?”

  “She’s stable.” Dylan clicked the light off and turned to Alec. “How are you?”

  “She’s what matters.”

  “How are you, Alec?”

  “I’m dead without her.”

  Dylan rubbed his beard. “Look, what you’re feeling is expected, but what you need is to take a walk, clear your mind, and—”

  “My mind is clear. Why leave her side? What good will that do?”

  “There is nothing you can do for her. Only time passing will heal her. I highly recommend you—”

  Alec wasn’t interested in hearing what the doctor was recommending. He stood and went to the door, holding it open for Dylan. “I appreciate you checking up, I really do. There’s no need to diagnose me.”

  “Right.” Dylan cleared his throat. “Well, if you need me, shout.” He paused. “Actually, best to keep quiet with zombies on the loose...but you know what I mean.” Dylan limped down the hall, past the receptionist area, and into the exam room where Deputy Miller was recovering.

  As he pulled back to Nicole, Alec looked into the waiting room. Jeff and Evans unstacked chairs, clearing them from the glass entryway.

  Leaving. Why would they leave? No matter, stay inside with her. But Alec did the opposite. He went into the waiting room.

  Jeff’s face registered surprise, but all he said was, “Good to see you.”

  “Heading out?”

  “Yep, we’ll bring you back something good to eat.”

  Alec grabbed his arm, staring up at him. “Look...”

  “Don’t worry, I know this is hard on you.”

  “Jeff, I can’t leave her. I can’t lose her. If I do, I’m done. Maybe I’m weak for that, but losing her will crush me.”

  Jeff touched his shoulder. “I know, keep her safe. We’ll return soon.”

  “And about Kale.” Alec paused as Evans opened the glass doors.

  “Make it quick,” the Marine said and quietly slipped outside.

  “What about him?”

  “I’m thankful he saved us, you know that. But the chances of us finding him, I mean, Jeff...”

  Jeff smiled. “Our lives have never been up to chance. Fate guides us.” He went for the door. “Be back soon. Stack the chairs behind me, will you?”

  Alec stepped to the glass and watched Jeff and Evans leave. The streets had no sign of the dead. Across from the clinic, a curved apartment complex stood. A yellow fire hydrant glowed at its side. The fact that it caught Alec’s eyes left him baffled.

  Jeff and Evans disappeared behind some wrecked cars, and Alec whispered to himself, “We leave as four.”

  KALE

  Sunlight stinging his eyes and a splitting headache crushing his mind, Kale rolled over, arm pressing against a hard surface. Gashes on his back burned. His eyelids were so sticky, almost impossible to open, and he wanted to cry.

  Heroes don’t cry, he reminded himself, and focused on his surroundings. He was on a roof. Wobbling to a stand, crisp air flowed around him. He overlooked a sprawling city. A line of shops faced him, abandoned, save for several stumbling corpses. A female zombie smacked and clawed at an overturned taxi cab. Food in there? Her attempts to get in were futile.

  He guessed he was at least ten-stories high.

  A footfall behind him, Kale spun to see the flapping black cloak wrapping around the Embracer’s mammoth of a body. He knew he should be scared, but if it wanted him dead, he already would be. “Where am I?”

  The beast only stared beneath its dark hood.

  “Right, you don’t speak, do you?” Kale’s surviving hand formed a fist, not that he’d be able to vanquish the demon. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Silence.

  “Where is this supposed Eradicator? Your boss, right?”

  Silence.

  “Why be here if you say nothing!”

  Silence.

  Kale’s weak legs had enough and he slid to the floor. His stump fell on his lap, a bandage still wrapped around half his forearm. The temptation to grab things with it was more frustrating than the silent beast staring at him.

  When he looked up from his lap, the Embracer was gone. Asshole. His back to the rest of the city, Kale faced the ocean several miles away. Are they still close? Are they even alive? He had no idea how much time had passed since he was taken from the yacht. The last thing he remembered . . . the dark pit, the hissing whispers, the . . . tentacles.

  A dream, maybe? A nightmare.

  A loud gunshot caused Kale to cower, and he peeked over the roof to see the zombie woman’s body slide off the taxicab. Another gunshot came from a sidewalk. A man led a woman and a young boy, shooting at the stumbling dead following them. The man forced them in the closest store, a shoe store. Slamming the glass door shut, he yanked its blinds closed.

  Kale counted five corpses, dragging themselves for a fresh food supply. They banged and moaned against the shoe store’s windows and doors, unable to see the tasty treats inside. I should help, I . . .

  Erica’s face . . .

  I know I can help.

  His severed hand . . .

  I’m not weak.

  Scot, Alec, Jeff . . .

  They don’t know what I’m capable of.

  Kale grabbed his forehead, fingers sliding up his skull under his jet-black hair. Thick, oily strands of hair stuck to his forehead in clumps. Bet I smell like a big ol’ pile of deer dung.

  On his feet again, Kale counted the zombies weakly attacking the shoe store. Six, a seventh was on its way. He figured they would break through the display window relatively soon.

  And I will stop them. Outside the building he had awoken on top of, Kale hurried across the street, ducking low. The store was the last shop on the street, behind it, a green park. Kale flipped around the store’s back. He caught his breath and went for a light blue door. Locked. He smacked his palm against it once out of frustration, knowing he would have to lead the zombies away from the front. A thick branch was the only weapon he found. He slid flatly against the store, inching for the front.

  Kale smacked the branch against the corner of the store. He tried to make as much noise as possible. “Come on! Yeah, you, come on!” He waved around, getting the attention of three zombies. The others soon followed.

  Kale backed away, yelling for them, “Come on!” His legs sped, twisting around, eyes clearing his front, side, and back. A quick turn to face the stumbling horde caused him to trip over himself. The branch flew from his hands. Shit! He crawled on the grass toward the park.

  The dead closed in.

  Kale snagged the branch and swung in time to knock the first stumbler over. He fought to his feet and screamed at the others, running quicker around them.

  A rotten hand swiped from the side, but a quick duck dodged the attack. He fell on grass, rolling, evading, and panting. Back on his feet, he threw the branch at the closest zombie and sprinted for the shoe store. Please let me in, please let me in. He smacked against the door and tried to keep his voice low. “I led them away, open quick.”

  No response.

  The moans were a good distance away behind the store. The zombies were unable to see Kale.

  “You have to open the door now, or they will hear me enter. Please!”

  Blinds swooped up. The door swung open. A tall, lanky man wearing a trucker hat yanked Kale inside.

  They ran behind a shoe aisle and ducked in the shadows, staring at the light blinds. The man covered the faces of the woman and the child.

  Silence. No movement. Sweat dripped down Kale’s temples. I smell even worse now. The first silhouette stumbled outside. A second followed, moaning. They lingered in front of the store for only seconds, before continuing their decaying journey.

  The man released his grip on his family and grabbed Kale’s shoulder, startling him. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  Kale turned back. “All good.”

  “Thank you for t
hat.” The man gave his hand. “Henry.”

  “Kale.”

  Henry got a good look at him. “Christ, kid, what happened to you?”

  “A lot.”

  “I’m sure,” said Henry, holding the woman close. “My wife Polly. This here is our son Benvolio.”

  Benvolio? WTF?

  Night came swiftly.

  They hid in the back of the store, safe from the dead. The Wright family had few supplies. Food: granola bars, flavored waters, and an apple. Benvolio devoured the fruit. He was no older than ten, Kale guessed. As for weapons, a handgun was their sole protection. Henry kept it in a shoulder holster covering his pink and white polo shirt. He wore a trucker hat backwards, hiding most of his shaggy salt and pepper hair.

  “Were you a cop?” Kale wondered because of the holster.

  “Me? Ha. No.”

  Polly and Benvolio giggled.

  “I take it you did something else...”

  “I, well, it doesn’t really matter now. I got my family this far.” He bit the granola bar.

  “He owned a fashion company focused on toddler clothes,” said Polly. She had shorter hair than her husband, brown too. She was also heavier, but much shorter.

  Henry crossed his hairy legs covered in cuts and bruises. “Where did you come from?” he asked Kale.

  Kale drank the flavored water. He despised the lemony taste, but his dry mouth and throat needed anything. “From Green Hills.”

  “This far, alone?”

  Kale twisted the cap on. “I lost my group a few days ago, I believe.”

  Benvolio dropped the apple on his lap. “What happened to your arm?”

  “Benny.” Polly gave him a stare.

  “It’s fine,” Kale said, unintentionally raising the stub. “I was bit.”

  On instinct, Henry went for his gun but Kale assured him they were safe. “The infection, or whatever, left with the rest of my arm.”

  Henry went back to his granola bar. “You said you saw us up on a roof. Why were you there?” He spoke with a full mouth, crumbs falling off his lips.