Rise of the Dead (Book 2): Return of the Dead

by Dyson, Jeremy

  “You ready?” Hoff asks.

  I look up and see his hand held out to help me up. I take it and pull myself off the floor.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I tell him.

  “I’m going to have one of my guys stay behind, too,” Hoff informs me. “Lorento will have a fit, but she can go fuck herself.”

  I can’t help but smile at his defiance.

  “Morris is a good soldier. He’ll keep them safe,” Hoff assures me.

  “Thanks, Hoff,” I smile at the big soldier before he turns and heads out to the truck.

  It’s a relief to know one of the soldiers is staying behind, though I don’t know that it will do any good if Bishop or his men show up here. We don’t seem to have any other options though, especially if we don’t have a lot of time.

  I walk over and crouch down next to Fawn, who is still cleaning blood off her hands and arms. She looks up at me slowly with bloodshot eyes and a tired smile.

  “Will you be okay keeping an eye on him here?” I ask her.

  “I’ll do what I can for him,” Fawn shrugs. “It’s not much unless we can find more supplies.”

  “Make me a list and I’ll do my best,” I tell her and give her a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll leave the pickup behind for you.”

  Fawn gives me a nod and lets the bloody towel fall to the floor. I can tell she would rather come with me, but she could never leave an injured person that needs medical attention. It would haunt her forever.

  “Be careful, Scout,” she says. She stands up and gives me a hug.

  “You know me,” I say.

  “That’s exactly why I’m reminding you to be careful,” she sniffs.

  She lets go of me and I turn to find Steven hovering behind me.

  “Better wake him up,” Steven frowns as he glances back at his exhausted son.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll carry him so he can sleep.”

  “Thanks, Scout,” Steven says. He collects his rifle and his pack and winces in pain as he lifts the bag off the ground.

  I scoop up the sleeping boy in my arms.

  “Where are we going, mom?” he mumbles.

  “It’s Scout,” I whisper in his ear. “Go back to sleep.”

  Twelve

  We pass a sign marking the edge of Mark Twain National Forest and for the next several miles, the convoy cruises north at top speed. I keep an eye on the sky for scavenger birds, and sniff the air for signs of rot. As we approach a town, a faint scent hits my nostrils. I grip my rifle tighter as a factory comes into view. The town streets are surprisingly clear, but that smell is coming from somewhere close. I scan the skies again and spot a cluster of black shapes over the center of town.

  “Damn it,” I mutter and raise the rifle to peer through the scope. The road ahead seems clear at first, but when I scan off to the right I see a horde of the dead in the parking lot of a Walmart.

  “It’s always the fucking Walmart,” I growl. It’s true. When the shit hit the fan some idiot in every dinky town came up with the foolproof plan of barricading themselves in a big box store. Haven’t met anyone that ever made it back out of one alive. They usually just managed to draw every walking stiff in town until the things smashed through the windows and killed anyone inside. It was always just a matter of time.

  “Must be a blue light special going on,” Steven smirks.

  “That’s K-Mart, you dipshit,” I correct him. “Focus.”

  I peer through the scope again to gauge the numbers of the dead. The whole goddamn town must be there. I grab the radio and click on the mic.

  “There’s a big crowd coming up on the left. The road is clear but we have to move fast before they hear us coming,” I urge.

  I hear Lorento’s voice but I drop the radio back in my pack and raise the rifle to check through the scope again. The crowd has already noticed the loud growl of the engines approaching and has turned away from the store and swarms toward the sound. The sight of all those lifeless faces coming at me is so horrifying that I pull my eye away from the scope.

  “How many?” Steven asks.

  “Too many,” I tell him.

  A minute later, the whole crowd in the parking lot comes into view as we reach the last intersection before the store. Hernacki starts firing the big machine gun on top of the lead vehicle. Fifty caliber bullets mow down the corpses closest to the street, but the crowd behind them surges toward the sound of gunfire. They trip over the fallen bodies and stumble into the southbound lanes.

  “We’re not gonna make it,” Steven panics.

  I raise my rifle and open fire on the corpses as they close the distance. To get around them, Hoff swerves the truck to the right and jumps the curb. The sudden motion causes me to lose my balance and stop shooting. Steven grabs a hold of my shoulder to keep me from toppling out of the truck. The Humvees speed between several cars parked out front of a car repair shop. The wide trucks scrape the other vehicles as they pass and knock the mirrors off the doors.

  As the trucks roll back over the curb and into the road I look back at the crowd of corpses trailing the vehicle. Hundreds and hundred of emaciated dead bodies trudge along behind us on the only possible route through of town. Good luck getting around that, Bishop.

  We reach an overpass at the edge of town and the caravan slows down to navigate through a cluster of crashed vehicles on the road. I glance back to make sure the crowd behind us isn’t getting too close, that’s when I notice the horde of the dead has turned and is heading in the other direction.

  Over the loud engines of the Humvees, I notice the distant rattle of machine guns. I lift the rifle and peer through the scope. Beyond the swarm of corpses in the road, I spot the squad of pickup trucks stopped in the road. A yellow flag flutters in the breeze above the vehicles. I scan the faces and fire off a round when I spot Bishop in the passenger seat of a black truck. I doubt my bullet found any of them, but it makes me feel better to see the vehicle jerk to the side as their heads duck for cover. Once the pickups turn around and retreat from the corpses, I lower the rifle and reach for the radio once again.

  “We got trouble,” I inform Lorento over the radio. “Bishop.”

  “Where?” asks Lorento.

  “Behind us,” I tell her. “He hit some traffic back there, but it won’t take him long to catch up unless we can make these trucks go any faster.”

  “Keep your eyes open, Scout,” Lorento replies. “Let me know the second you catch sight of them again.”

  The trucks begin to pick up speed again as the road infiltrates the thick Missouri forests once again. We sit silently in the back of the Humvee with our eyes glued to the road behind us and wait for the threat to come. I know for certain that we can’t outrun them forever like this. It’s just a matter of time now. We have to figure out some other way to slow them down, and we have to do it soon.

  Thirteen

  As the sun climbs higher in the sky, we approach a gas station on the edge of a small city. We roll through the center of town on Market Street and pass by a looted electronics store, a Mexican restaurant with a large sombrero on the sign, and a candy store called Sugar Momma’s. The two-lane road widens to create a center turn lane through the shopping district. The extra room makes it easy to weave through the dead walking along the asphalt. I notice a few taverns and wineries and a gift shop as we reach the north side of town. This place must have been a tourist spot, which around here can only mean we’re near one of the rivers.

  After we pass a couple historic motels the bridge comes into view. The trucks roll onto the overpass. We cross over a pair of train tracks before the rushing water begins to flow beneath the road. As we near the opposite shore I pick up the radio.

  “Do we have any explosives?” I ask.

  “You thinking we should blow the bridge?” Hoff responds.

  “The thought crossed my mind,” I say.

  “I can probably do that,” Hoff says. “I think I got enough C4 to do the job.”

  �
�How long would it take, Hoff?” Lorento asks.

  “Maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “Not worth it,” Lorento says. “We might not have that kind of time.”

  The vehicles slow on the empty bridge and come to a stop just at the edge of the shore.

  “What are you doing, Hoff?”

  “Hang on,” Hoff grunts. “Closest other town that crosses the river is close to thirty miles away. If they’re still behind us, taking down the bridge could buy us at least an hour, maybe more.”

  There is a long pause before Lorento responds.

  “Make it quick,” Lorento says. “But try not to screw it up.”

  Hoff and Hernacki get out of the trucks and begin rigging the bridge with explosives.

  “I’m going to check on Stevie,” Steven says.

  I nod and watch as Steven struggles to get down off the rear of the truck and hobbles around to visit his son in the backseat. After taking a glance back at the other end of the bridge, I get off the back of the truck as well. The soldiers are busy working beside the vehicle and I go over to look at what they are doing. They have some bricks of explosive wrapped in black plastic that they are rigging with a cable of some kind.

  “So does that stuff have a trigger or a timer or what?” I ask.

  Hoff glances at Hernacki and then smirks.

  “Well, this is a fuse, but I could use a detonator,” Hoff says. “Why?”

  “What if we waited around awhile and took out the bridge while they’re on it?” I ask.

  “We could do that,” Hoff says. He pauses as he cuts a span fuse. “But I don’t think Lorento is willing to wait around. Besides, there is no guarantee this will be enough to bring down a section of the bridge.”

  “It won’t?” I ask.

  “It should. Probably. Would be sure if we had twice as much as we do, but I think fifty pounds will be enough for a bridge this old.”

  “But even if it doesn’t take out the bridge, we could use it to take them out.”

  “Some of them, probably. One or two of their trucks. Then the rest of them would be all over us. That’s assuming they even come this way at all. For all we know, they might have gave up and turned around.”

  Hoff returns his focus to the explosives that he is rigging and scratches his head and scans the supplies as though he has lost something. Then he seems to notice the wire clippers he is still holding in his hand and returns to cutting another span of fuse. I decide I should probably leave the two soldiers to focus on setting the charges so I return to the truck. After I climb into the back, I retrieve another bottle from my pack and drink the lukewarm water while I keep an eye on the other end of the bridge. A number of the corpses from town shamble down the middle of the overpass. The main horde, however, is still about a quarter mile away, so it will still be awhile before they get too close. If it takes much longer than ten minutes to prepare the explosives, we might have a hell of a time holding them off. I grab a few extra magazines and set them in the seat next to me and listen to the sound of the river rushing below.

  Lorento appears at the back of the truck and asks how I am doing.

  “I’m hanging in there,” I tell her.

  She looks away from me and watches the approaching corpses.

  “Just a couple more hours to go,” she says. “Most of the towns the rest of the way up are smaller. It should be easier.”

  “Should be,” I sigh.

  “It was a good idea,” she says. “Taking down the bridge.”

  “If it works,” I say.

  “Even if it doesn’t it’s still a good idea.” She swivels around to face me and studies me from behind her aviator sunglasses. “Might just save our asses.”

  “Maybe,” I shrug. “But we still got a long way to go.”

  “We’ll make it,” Lorento tries to assure me. She doesn’t seem certain at all herself, though. The agent turns again and glances back at the road behind us. Steven returns from checking on his son and Lorento steps to the side to let him climb back on the back of the truck.

  “They’re getting close,” I say, and jerk my head in the direction of the approaching corpses.

  “You want help?” Lorento offers.

  “We got it,” I say.

  “I could use the extra practice anyway,” Steven adds.

  “No kidding,” I tease him.

  “Suit yourselves,” Lorento nods and leaves to check on the progress of the soldiers.

  “Seems like you got a new best friend,” Steven smiles as soon as Lorento is out of earshot.

  “I guess,” I scoff.

  “Never thought we’d come across somebody that actually likes you,” Steven teases.

  Steven flinches when I pull back my fist to slug him in the arm, but then I remember his injury and stop myself.

  “If you weren’t hurt, I’d kick your ass,” I tell him.

  Steven lets out a laugh, and then clutches his shoulder in pain.

  “Shit,” he grimaces.

  “Serves you right,” I tell him. “How is Stevie doing?”

  “Good,” Steven says. “That girl, Valerie, she seems pretty good with him.”

  “That’s good,” I say.

  “Wish I had a babysitter that looked like that before,” he adds.

  “Gross,” I cringe. “She is like half your age.”

  “Oh, don’t be jealous,” Steven laughs.

  “I’m not,” I sneer. “Believe me. She can have you.”

  Steven’s smile falters for a moment. He lowers his head and stares at his boots. An awkward moment passes and I feel guilty for hurting his feelings. I was never good at joking around. I’d always be the asshole that took it too far and said something a little too harsh. Steven recovers a few seconds later and chuckles to himself.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “So you think she’d have me?” he asks me.

  “Gross,” I say and roll my eyes. I pick up my rifle and take up a shooting position at the rear of the truck bed. I bring my eye to the scope and center the target on a dead woman in a bloody hospital gown behind a Buick about fifty yards down the road. When she steps around the hood of the car I notice her round belly. I close my eyes and open them again but the sight her is just as traumatic. My finger shakes as I pull the trigger.

  “Maybe I’ll ask Val for her phone number,” Steven cracks.

  “Shut the hell up and help me shoot some of these things,” I tell him.

  Steven begins firing alongside me and curses in pain from the recoil of the rifle between each shot. I take out two more stiffs, and then I pause to scan the road again and get an idea of their numbers. There must be a couple hundred between here and the town. I find another target and am about to squeeze the trigger again, when I hear the sound of automatic weapons in the distance. I sweep over the bridge and notice some corpses at the back of the group turning back toward town. Then I see that damn yellow flag again.

  “Shit,” I growl. “It’s Bishop.”

  I grab up the radio from my pack to warn the others we will soon have company.

  “We’re good,” Hoff transmits back. “Ready to roll.”

  I keep firing at the dead that are beginning to close in now. I don’t even use the scope, but just quickly point and shoot the way James had taught me. Steven drops the rifle and pulls out a handgun from his waistband and fires at the closest corpses. The Humvee engines fire up as Bishop and his convoy arrive at the other end of the bridge. I try to get a count of the vehicles, but quit when I get to ten and the Humvee lurches forward. I lose my balance but luckily Steven grabs onto my arm just in time to keep me from falling out into the waiting arms of the undead. A couple of the corpses manage to grab on as the truck pulls away. They clutch the bumper for a hundred yards or so, their bodies dragging along pavement and leaving trails of coagulated blood behind us.

  Once I steady myself, I lift the rifle and peer through the scope again to see Bishop and his men firing on the dead to clear a path do
wn the bridge. I lower the rifle as the Humvees clear the bridge and pick up speed on the open road. Time slows to a crawl as I wait for the explosives to detonate. I watch as pickup trucks make it halfway across the bridge. I wonder what the hell is taking so long. If the trucks make it across before the bombs detonate we will really have no choice but to fight.

  An explosion rocks the bridge. A grey haze fills the air and a split second later I hear the massive boom. The shockwave knocks off one of the dead clinging to the truck and it skids to a stop in the road. The Humvees slow down as a plume of smoke drifts up in the sky above the bridge. My ears ring from the deafening blast so that everything sounds muffled. I stare at the road and wait for the visibility to improve, half expecting the armada of pickups to emerge at any moment.

  As the dust settles, I spot the new gap in the bridge. On the other side, I can see the pickups stopped on the overpass. I glance through the scope once more and watch chaos as the men scramble to fight off the dead while turning the vehicles around. The corpses have them pinned down with only a forty foot drop into the river for an escape. The bridge now seems to be loaded with every poor dead bastard from town, too.

  I lower the rifle and nod to Steven to let him know the bridge is down.

  “All clear back here,” Steven transmits over the radio. “The bridge is down. Good work, guys.”

  “Woo!” Hernacki cheers.

  I notice the corpse that is still hanging off the back of the truck and take the butt of the rifle and repeatedly smash the thing in the face as it snaps and hisses at me. Somehow it still hangs on. Steven steps over and pulls me out of the way and fires off the nine millimeter. The thing releases the bumper, bounds along the pavement, and lands limply in the tall weeds beside the road. As the Humvee rounds a curve I fall back into the seat and let out a deep breath.

  “I still think I’m going to ask Valerie for her number,” Steven grins.

  I shake my head and resist the urge to punch his dumb ass again.

  Fourteen

  I can only guess how much more time we might have bought, but I start to feel able to relax a little. I collapse into a seat and grab a full water bottle from my pack and a bag of potato chips I’d been thinking about all morning. The view alongside the road turns again to open fields and small farms interspersed between swathes of thick leafy trees. The sparse clouds occasionally cast a shadow from the warming sun, but I start to feel my shirt and pants getting damp with sweat. I take off my jacket and shove it inside my backpack.