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

by Dyson, Jeremy

  I reach the clothing shop and round the corner. The street is congested with the remains of cars and people. Within moments, I have to stop when the cluster of the dead on the sidewalk leaves no room to maneuver around them. I raise the rifle I take down one with a pair of shots. Once it falls, I sprint forward again and leap over the body before the gap closes between the other corpses. Up ahead, hunkered down along the parked cars, I spot the others. Hoff peers over the hood of the car, fires a trio of shots and then scrambles a few parking spots further down the road to crouch behind another car.

  The sound we are making as we fight are way through the city draws out more and more of the dead. Bishop must have figured out by now that we won’t be surrendering. It will just be a matter of time before he comes after us. I can only wonder what might have happened to Hernacki and Lorento.

  Not now, Scout. Focus.

  I catch up to the others, and Hoff glances back briefly to make sure I’m okay. His eyes squint into the darkness, and his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. With a nod, I let him know I’m good to go and he turns away and advances across the intersection to the next block.

  “I’m out,” Valerie tells me.

  I reach down to my waist and grab the handgun and shove it at her chest. She fumbles with it awkwardly and for a minute I worry that she is going to shoot herself or me on accident.

  “Go,” I urge her and push her shoulder to get her moving again. I pivot around and fire several shots at a dead barista just as he falls on top of me. His head explodes and skull fragments and brain tissue come down on me in a shower of blood. I squirm out from the beneath the body and crab walk a couple feet away to collect the rifle while trying to blink the blood out of my eyes enough to see. The hot barrel burns my hand when I grab it and I yelp in pain. Finally, my vision clears and I quickly scan the area around me. Several dead bodies are collapsed on the ground nearby that weren’t there a few moments ago. Then I happen to glance down at my jacket and notice it’s spattered with blood and there are a few teeth resting on the fabric. I flick them away with a shudder. I scramble to my feet and turn to run when I notice Nick standing in the intersection with a rifle pointed in my direction. He fires off a shot and I flinch in terror. The bullet whizzes passed my head. Several feet behind me the corpse of a kid wearing a Hawkeyes sweatshirt collapses to the ground.

  “Come on, Scout,” he screams and beckons me to move with a wave of his arm.

  The drunk bastard actually stopped to help me. I can hardly believe it. Despite everything going on, the moment actually makes me smile as I begin to run forward again. Nick stands at the rear doors of a white van in the road and waits for me to reach the intersection. As I step in the street, he turns to move forward again but a corpse stumbles at him from the side of the van and latches on to his jacket. Before I can even raise the rifle, the thing sinks its teeth into his neck. I hurry over and slam the butt of the rifle into the skull of the thing as hard as I can and knock it to the ground. Nick grabs at the blood trickling from his neck and looks at the red fluid soaking his fingers.

  I grit my teeth and raise the rifle and fire several rounds into the corpse that bit him. I grab his hand and pull him up to his feet. He hobbles along beside me in a stupor, but I can’t tell if it’s because he is losing a lot of blood or because he is in shock. We dash along the sidewalk to catch back up to the others but I have already lost sight of them.

  As we approach the edge of the downtown district the swarm of the dead begins to thin out. Nick suddenly pauses next to an ATM machine, leaning his body against the side of the box.

  “Nick,” I plead. “We have to keep moving.”

  “Just leave me,” he moans as he slumps toward the ground.

  “Like hell,” I say. I reach down and grab the collar of his suit jacket. He swats my hand away.

  “Just go,” he says. “We both know I’m dead already.”

  “Get the fuck up!” I scream and pull him as hard as I can.

  He reluctantly straightens up and stumbles along beside me, clutching at his neck. At the end of the block we cross another intersection and into a large open field. I glance around to see where the others have gone, but I don’t see them anywhere. There is just a bunch of dark figures shambling through the tall grass. We’ve fallen too far behind and now we lost them.

  “Come on,” I whisper to Nick and grab his arm to lead him into the dark field. The overgrown blades of grass brush against our legs as we churn through them. The dead are spread out enough that we can maneuver through the field without fighting. With only one magazine left, every bullet is going to have to count now. We cross a baseball diamond at the edge of the park and emerge on residential street. There are still no signs of life anywhere.

  Nick pauses and leans his body up against the side of car parked in the road. His knees buckle and he drapes an arm over the roof to keep from falling to the ground. Blood soaks the front of his dress shirt and dribbles down the grey fabric of his pants.

  “I need a minute,” he gasps.

  “We don’t have a minute,” I tell him.

  “Just let me get a drink,” he growls. His hand slips into his jacket and he fumbles with the silver flask inside.

  “Seriously?” I ask him. I yank him forward again.

  “Fuck,” Nick spits. Nick looses his grip and the metal container clangs against the street. “You made me drop it.”

  “Come on,” I hiss.

  I grab his wrist and drape his arm over my shoulder and let him lean on me as we walk down the street. Even though he always seemed thin, he stands a good six inches taller and must weigh a good forty pounds more than me. I start to breath heavy with the added weight on my frame. Panic grips me as I realize that I can’t keep going on like this for very long. If I leave Nick, I can possibly save myself. I’d still be out here alone. The fear of being alone helps me find the strength to drag Nick along beside me.

  “Don’t quit on me,” I whisper to him.

  He lifts his head for a moment and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. He tries to smile but coughs up blood that trickles down his chin.

  “I’m gonna die, Scout,” he says.

  “No, you’re not,” I lie.

  “It’s okay,” he grunts. “Bound to happen eventually.”

  “You saved me,” I tell him. “I’m not giving up on you.”

  A burst of rifle fire echoes off the aluminum siding. Hoff and the others must still be close by, but it’s hard to tell exactly which direction they went. We reach an intersection and I pause to look down the street in each direction. I notice a faint light blink on for a moment down the street to our right. I squint my eyes and can just barely make out Hoff hunched behind the wheel of a pickup truck. A second later the interior light goes off and I lose sight of him.

  “I see them,” I whisper to Nick.

  He groans. His head lolls forward and his eyelids stay closed. The man is out on his feet. It won’t take long before he completely collapses. Somewhere deep inside, I wish for it to happen. Not out of malice. Just so I don’t have the burden of carrying him any longer. I push the feeling away and move down the block. My legs ache from the strain.

  We pass several houses before Nick’s legs give out completely and he collapses onto a driveway. I squat down and grab him by the collar and shake him. His eyelids open but don’t seem able to focus on me. He stares up at the stars behind me in the sky.

  “Reason,” he gasps. His hand locates my arm and he digs his fingers deep into my wrist. He lifts his head off the ground and bares his teeth like a snarling dog. “I had a reason.”

  “Stay with me,” I urge him. Seeing no choice I decide to call to the others for help. The sound of my voice seems so loud in the quiet of the night.

  “I’m sorry, Scout,” he chokes. Nick loosens his grip on my arm and lays his head back on the concrete.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. I know he isn’t going to make it.

  “This is me,” he sa
ys. “This…”

  His hand flops down on the ground as a long final breathe escapes his lungs. I lower my head and my vision blurs as my eyes fill with tears. Sure, he was a piece of shit since I had met him, and had almost gotten me killed just yesterday, but today he had actually come back for me. He finally tried to be a good person and it got him killed. It just feels so terribly wrong.

  “Shit,” Steven cusses.

  I turn my head to see him and Midhun coming toward me through the tall grass. They both reach down and help me get to my feet.

  “You okay?” Steven asks.

  “I think so,” I tell him. My legs still feel tired and weak. The two of them begin to lead me back toward the truck but I shrug loose and turn around.

  “We got to go,” Steven pleads.

  “I’m not going to let him turn into one of them,” I growl. I point the rifle at Nick and stare at his lifeless face for a second, and then I pull the trigger with a trembling finger.

  Another gunshot follows as Midhun puts a bullet in the corpse of a mailman that staggers across the front lawn of the house. I shoulder my rifle and jog behind them toward the pickup. As we approach, the engine turns over and the running lights illuminate the dark street. I see the shaggy red hair on the top of Stevie’s head beneath the dome light in the cab. Hoff wheels the truck around and the three of us hop into the bed and drive off into the night.

  Twenty

  After we set out with fourteen of us yesterday, there are just six of us remaining. I am smart enough to know we should just walk away. If the last two days have taught me anything, it’s that we can’t possibly win. But to give up now would mean that we lost all those people for no reason at all. I just can’t live with that.

  “What happened back there?” Steven asks.

  I shake my head, unsure how to answer and not wanting to think about it. It feels like it was somehow my fault.

  “Scout,” Steven begins.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I cut him off.

  “No,” he says. “You got a hunk of glass in your face.”

  I reach up to touch my face and feel the sharp edge of a shard of glass embedded in the skin over my cheek bone. The sudden pain from the slight touch makes me hiss. If it had been up another inch, I would have probably lost an eye. I pinch the glass and tug it slightly. The truck rolls over pothole and the movement causes me to accidentally shove the piece farther into my skin.

  “Fuck!” I curse and let go of the glass.

  “You want some help with that?” Steven offers. He reaches a hand toward my face, but I swat it away.

  “Just leave it,” I shake my head.

  Steven stares at the side of my face, his mouth agape.

  “Quit it,” I growl.

  He shifts his gaze to the road behind us. I notice Midhun staring at my face as well. I must look horrific. It will probably leave a scar the rest of my life, however long that may be. Even now, I’m still worried about how I look and what other people will think when they see me. I feel stupid for even feeling like it matters, but I can’t help it. In the back of the truck I prop my knees up and fold my arms across them. I rest my forehead on my arms, partly to hide my face but mostly to rest. It’s the middle of the night and I’m more exhausted than I have ever been in my life. After the stress of the last couple hours, it feels like my body is ready to quit on me.

  “Do not lose hope,” Midhun says.

  I raise my head slightly and try to smile. All it does is make my face scream in pain again.

  “How do you stay so fucking cheery?” Steven gripes.

  “When I despair,” Midhun smiles, “I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it--always.”

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Steven asks me.

  “I think he’s quoting Gandhi,” I say.

  Midhun nods. He reaches into the vest pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small book of famous quotations.

  “It was my brothers,” he says. “Over and over I have read it these weeks. It is all I have of him now. He would always be telling me these things, even when my ears did not want to listen. Only now do I truly understand him.”

  He tucks the book back into his jacket pocket, and gives it a couple soft pats with the palm of his hand.

  “How’d that work out for him?” Steven asks. “What ever happened to Gandhi?”

  “Stop, Steven,” I say.

  “No, really,” he says. “I don’t know much about history. I’d like to understand.”

  “He was shot by a right-wing militant,” Midhun says. “Terrible tragedy.”

  “You don’t say,” Steven shakes his head.

  As the truck slows to ease around a corner, I notice a sound coming from my pack. It’s a voice on the radio. I dig it out and listen again.

  “I know you’re listening,” Bishop teases.

  I rap my knuckle against the window of the truck. Hoff glances back and holds a finger to his lips to tell me not to respond.

  “I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised that you’d leave your friend behind,” Bishop rambles. “You probably thought you would make me look like a fool, but you’re wrong.”

  He sure does love to listen to himself talk. I glance over at Steven and roll my eyes.

  “See,” Bishop continues. “People are always underestimating me. But I am going to win. You’ll see. Just like your friends back at the farmhouse saw.”

  They must have found Fawn and the soldiers. I clutch the radio in my fingers and resist the urge to scream into the microphone by biting down on my bottom lip.

  “Son of a bitch,” Steven growls.

  Hoff bangs a fist against the dashboard inside the truck.

  “You might think you’re getting away,” Bishop says. “But I know where you’re going. You’ll all be seeing me again real soon.”

  The radio goes silent and I glance up at Steven.

  “He’s just talking out his ass,” Steven says.

  “No, he isn’t. Lorento had the map. She marked the location of the airfield.”

  “Crap,” Steven spits. “He knows exactly where we’re going.”

  “He has the GPS, too,” I sigh.

  “We’re fucked,” Steven curses.

  “Really fucked,” I agree.

  “We can just go somewhere else,” Steven suggests. “Get the hell out of here and never look back.”

  “No,” I say. “We are not running away. Not after what they did.”

  “You’re crazy,” Steven snaps. “It’s suicide.”

  “We can’t run forever,” I insist. “They aren’t just going to leave us alone. Not after everything.”

  “Christ,” Steven sighs. “You got some kind of death wish. That’s what this is really about.”

  My eyeballs roll up into my skull.

  “That’s not it,” I say.

  “No, really,” Steven says. “I get it now.”

  We fall silent as the pickup truck leaves the subdivision. Cornfields appear on either side of the road. Once we are a few miles from town, one of the tires pops as we run over some debris in the road. At first, it sounds like it will be okay. But after another few miles the tire runs flat and the rims begin to grind against the pavement.

  Hoff pulls the truck over to the side of the dark road and gets out of the cab.

  “Just can’t catch a break,” he groans. He stares at the piece of glass in my face, then notices me watching him doing it and looks away. Hoff fishes a bag of sunflower seeds out of his chest pocket and pours a few of them into his palm.

  “How far away are we?” I ask.

  “Maybe ten miles at the most.” He shoves the handful of seeds in his mouth.

  Along the horizon to the west, I spot a flash of lightning. To the east, the sun already begins to lighten the color of the night sky. The cornfields go on for as far a
s the eye can see in either direction. For a long moment I listen to the night but only hear the buzzing sounds of insects in the fields. There isn’t any sign of Bishop, at least for now.

  “Guess we will not be having much luck finding a spare tire,” Midhun notes.

  “Not likely,” Hoff shakes his head.

  “We better start walking,” I suggest. “If that pilot is still in Tipton, we need to get there and find him before Bishop does.”

  “You sure you’re up for it?” Hoff asks me.

  “Don’t really have much choice,” I say. I pull the straps of my pack over my shoulders and grab up the rifle.

  “Of course we have a choice, Scout,” Steven says. He climbs out of the bed of the truck behind me and grabs onto my sleeve as I walk toward the front of the truck. I spin around to face him without meeting his eyes. “There is always a choice.”

  Valerie opens the passenger door and helps Stevie down from the seat. I watch his horrified expression when he sees half of my face covered in blood. I turn to the side so he only sees the side of me that still looks normal.

  “You know I always have your back, Scout,” Steven says. He glances back over his shoulder at their dark figures next the truck. “But don’t do this. Enough is enough already. We don’t have to die.”

  “I have to finish this Steven,” I say. “I’d rather die than live in this kind of a world.”

  Steven shakes his head.

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Hell, I don’t even want you to fight,” I cringe. The glass in my face makes it painful to talk. I grit my teeth and rip the chunk of glass from my skin and let it fall from my shaking fingers.