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

by Dyson, Jeremy

  “You and Lorento seem to get along really well,” I say.

  “Ha!” he laughs sarcastically at my sarcasm. “I guess you can say we got a history.”

  “A history?” I say. “Like you used to date?”

  “Fuck no!” he winces. “Not like that.”

  “I’m just messing with you,” I laugh.

  His entire body shudders out of disgust. He shakes his head and resumes smoking the joint.

  “But you did sleep with her, though. Right?” I ask.

  “Don’t make me shoot you,” Fletcher grins. “There is no worse way to start the day than having to shoot an unarmed woman.”

  “Fine,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “Tell me about this history then.”

  “You ever met this scientist she’s after?” he says.

  I shake my head.

  “Figures,” he says. “If you did you wouldn’t be in no rush to try and save him.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “He ain’t right in the head,” Fletcher twirls his fingers holding the joint in small circles around his ear. “One look at the guy and it was pretty obvious he was not anyone who could stop this whole goddamn nightmare, so I refused to fly.”

  “So are you going to bail on us now?” I ask.

  He turns his eyes away and stares at the cornfield across the road and thinks for a few moments.

  “I know you just met Danielle and Quentin, but they’re good people,” he says. “Nat is tough as nails, and College Boy isn’t as stupid as he seems. Hell, even Blake is okay, I guess. Sometimes.”

  “So you don’t want to leave them,” I say.

  “That’s part of it,” he says. “I guess I still want a little payback, too. I owe it to the guys that were on that helicopter, even if they were too stupid to listen to me.”

  Fletcher drops the joint on the ground and smashes it with his boot. He kicks it around in the dirt for a few seconds then stops and stares up at the sky.

  “You okay?” I ask him.

  “Sure,” he says. “I’m fucking stoned right now, of course I’m okay.”

  “You hungry?” I ask him.

  “What do you think?” he laughs.

  “I think I’ll find us some food,” I say.

  “Got a few MRE’s in my pack there,” he gestures at the rucksack leaning near the front door. “If you feel like cooking, we can split one.”

  “How generous of you,” I say and turn to walk over and retrieve the meal. I dig inside the sack and pull out one that says chili on the package.

  “Not that one,” Fletcher says.

  I exchange it for a different box that says maple pork sausage patty. I hold it up so he can see.

  “Jackpot,” Fletcher gives me a wink.

  I grab a water bottle from his pack and sit down on the front steps. My fingers pry open the package and I start sifting through the contents and place the heating pad in the bag of water.

  “You’re a doll,” Fletcher smiles. He moves closer and leans back against the railing along the stairs. “I wasn’t so sure about you at first, but you’re growing on me already.”

  “I get the coffee,” I tell him. “Deal with it.”

  “I spoke too soon,” Fletcher says.

  “Nuts or crackers?” I ask him.

  “I’ll take the crackers,” he says. “You can grab the nuts, doll.”

  I look up and can’t help but roll my eyes at the stupid smirk on his face. Just when I started to like him he had to go and make an immature remark like that. I toss him the bag of crackers a little harder than necessary and the package hits him in the chest and falls to the ground.

  “So much for keeping you sharp,” I say.

  The look of surprise slips away from his face and he scowls at me before he bends down and picks the crackers up from the steps.

  “You might think I was being rude,” he says. “But I was just being considerate.”

  “Really?” I scoff before I put a handful of nuts and raisins in my mouth.

  “Sure,” he says. He holds up the crackers and points at them. “This is just empty calories. Those nuts got some protein and other healthy shit. I was actually doing you a favor.”

  “Whatever,” I laugh. Even though he is completely full of shit, I can’t help but find him kind of charming in a fucked up way. I always did end up falling for the worst kind of guys. The ones where you know it will just result in heartache and misery but you find yourself agreeing to go along with them regardless.

  Fletcher shoves a cracker into his mouth and I watch him chew as the crumbs dribble down his chin like some kind of savage. We eat in silence for a few minutes and just stare at the quiet world around us. Out here, you can almost feel normal for awhile, if you can forget the fact that there are billions of dead people hunting you down every minute of the damn day.

  “So what’s your deal?” Fletcher asks. He takes a sip from the water bottle and hands it to me.

  “My deal?” I ask.

  “You know, like, what your life was like before all of this.” He waves a hand around to indicate everything surrounding us. “You married?”

  “Come on.” I say. “Let’s not start that whole thing.”

  “What thing?” he says.

  “The digging up the past thing,” I say. “Nothing good ever comes from that.”

  “Suit yourself,” Fletcher grunts.

  “I was married, though,” I say. “To answer your question. Had a couple kids, too.”

  “Seriously?” Fletcher cocks his head.

  I nod.

  “You look a little too young for that.”

  “We did get started pretty young,” I admit. “I got pregnant in high school and had to grow up kind of fast.”

  “Damn,” Fletcher says. “That’s rough.”

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” I sigh.

  “We’re just talking, Scout,” Fletcher soothes. “What kind of name is Scout for a girl anyway? Your parents were hoping for a boy or something?”

  “It’s just a nickname,” I say. “When I was eight I tried to join the boy scouts.”

  “Boy scouts?” Fletcher laughs. “Why not join the girl scouts?”

  “Because I already knew how to bake cookies,” I snap. “Besides, my friends were in the boy scouts.”

  “How’d you like being a boy scout?” Fletcher asks.

  “Never got to find out,” I say. “They kicked me out.”

  “For being a girl,” he says.

  “Yep,” I nod. “So my dad got me a uniform anyway and took me out on the weekends for the next couple years. God, I can’t believe you got me telling you this stuff.”

  “Seems like you’ve been dying to talk to somebody,” he says.

  It is the truth. I’ve spent so long surrounded by people that don’t know me, that try to fit me into some kind of mold that I haven’t really been myself with anyone for a long time. The realization is painful and I clutch my hands together and hold them in front of my face to keep Fletcher from seeing how close I am to crying. I can’t understand why, of all the people that have crossed my path, I decided to tell the most immature person of all.

  “It’s all right,” Fletcher says as he takes a seat beside me on the step. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to somebody that doesn’t think they know you because they aren’t expecting you to be the person you try to be.”

  I let my hands fall away from my face and try to decipher what Fletcher is trying to say.

  “Did that even make any sense?” he chuckles. “I think I smoked too much.”

  “I think I get it,” I tell him as I tuck my overgrown bangs back behind my ear.

  “Good,” he smiles.

  “You’re not such a bad guy when you’re aren’t acting like a complete asshole,” I say.

  His hand touches my shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back. I feel my body tense up as he caresses my arm. Before I can react he leans in and tries to put his lips to min
e.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I say as I push his chest and squirm against the railing of the stairs.

  Fletcher withdraws his hands and leans back, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Shit,” he sighs. “I thought you were like giving me a signal.”

  “What signal?” I say.

  “You did that thing with your hair,” he explains. “Like you were getting it out of the way so I could—”

  “No!” I shake my head. “That wasn’t anything like that at all.”

  “Oh hell,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” Fletcher gets up again and moves to the other side of the steps and leans against the railing again.

  “Maybe you did smoke too much,” I tell him.

  “I just felt like we had some kind of connection going there,” he says.

  “We did,” I admit. “But I wasn’t ready for that. Jesus, I don’t even know the first thing about you.”

  “Okay. I can see your point there,” he says.

  “You were just moving in a little too fast there, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe,” he shrugs. “But time isn’t really a luxury we can really afford anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m not ready for anything like that. I might never be.”

  The church door swings open and Lorento emerges from the dim light. I take a step back away from Fletcher and lean against the handrail. Lorento looks curiously at the two of us on the steps.

  “Everything okay here?” she asks me.

  “We’re fine,” Fletcher assures her.

  Lorento ignores him and waits for me to respond so I smile and give her a nod.

  “How’s your leg doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m dealing with it,” she says. “Thanks for your concern.”

  “So what’s the plan this morning?” Fletcher asks her.

  Lorento eyes him warily, as though she suspects his sudden cooperation must be some kind of ploy.

  “Well?” Fletcher prods her.

  “Sorry,” Lorento says. “I’m kind of surprised at the moment. When I woke up and saw you were not inside I thought I was going to have to spend the entire morning searching the countryside for you again.”

  “Not the first time you’ve been wrong,” Fletcher smirks.

  “Let’s not start this again,” Lorento huffs, and folds her arms across her chest.

  “Relax. I’m not going anywhere,” Fletcher relents. “Have a little faith.”

  “Right,” Lorento says. “Since you’ve been so reliable in the past.”

  Fletcher shakes his head and laughs to himself. Even if they still don’t really get along, Fletcher is hardly as combative as he was yesterday. It’s probably just the effect of the drugs.

  “We’re going to need to find some more fuel for the truck,” I say to redirect the conversation. “I can take a look around.”

  “Okay,” Lorento agrees. “But don’t go alone. Bishop is probably miles away by now, but just in case.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “I’ll come along,” Fletcher tells her.

  Lorento nods and twists around and hobbles back inside the church. The fact that she is even walking today is incredible. She is a tough woman, but I am pretty sure the painkillers have something to do with it.

  “I just want to bring Stevie some breakfast before we go,” I tell Fletcher. “It’ll just take a minute.”

  “I’ll grab a gas can from the truck and meet you inside,” Fletcher says.

  I climb the steps and follow Lorento inside. Halfway down the aisle of the chapel she pauses to rest against a pew and glances back to the door to make sure Fletcher is out of earshot. She squints her eyes at me as I get close to her.

  “What is it?” I ask her.

  “I don’t know or care what you two talked about out there,” Lorento whispers.

  “We were just—” I begin, but Lorento cuts me off.

  “I said I don’t care,” Lorento says. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

  Twenty-nine

  When Stevie opens his eyes, he sees the maple muffin top in my hands and gives me a smile. I sit beside him while he devours the thing, showering himself and the floor in crumbs.

  “Slow down there, kiddo,” I tell him. “Make it last so you feel more full.”

  He gives me an annoyed look but he slows down and chews his food. I give him some water to drink and he chugs the rest of the bottle. I kind of wish I took a sip before I handed since I don’t have anything else in my pack to drink. Might have to check the toilets and fill a bottle before we leave, even though just the thought of drinking toilet water makes me nauseous.

  “Listen,” I tell Stevie. “I’m going to go away for a little while today to see if I can find us some more food and gas for the truck.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” Stevie whines. “Can’t somebody else do it?”

  “It will just be for a little while,” I say. “And I’ll see if I can’t find a special treat for you. How does that sound?”

  His face brightens and he nods his head in agreement. He holds up a fist and I make one with my hand and bump his gently. He makes an exploding sound as he spreads his fingers. I rub his filthy hair and give him a hug.

  “I love you, Scout,” he whispers. “Don’t get hurt.”

  I hold him tight, clutching my fingers into the nylon fabric on the back of his jacket. The sound of a little boy saying that to me again stirs up a visceral emotion I find hard to contain. I feel like I should say the words back to him, but for some reason I still can’t bring myself to say them.

  “Ouch! Too tight,” Steven complains.

  My grip relaxes and I release Stevie. I hadn’t realized how intensely I was squeezing him.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “That was a big hug,” he laughs.

  “You’re a good kid,” I say. Then I get the strange feeling that comes whenever Steven is hovering behind me and I whisper to Stevie. “Keep an eye on your dad. Make sure he stays out of trouble for me okay?”

  Stevie nods his head and gives me a smile.

  I leave him to finish his breakfast and turn around to find Steven rubbing at his sore shoulder. By the look on his face I can tell he’s been listening to the whole conversation.

  “You need me to come along?” Steven asks.

  “I think you should probably stay with Stevie,” I tell him. “It might be too scary without one of us around. He hasn’t known anyone else here more than a couple days.”

  “I could go and you can stay,” he offers.

  “It’s all right,” I say. “You should probably take a break while you can. Rest up that shoulder. I don’t think lugging supplies around will do you much good.”

  He stops rubbing at the muscles and starts to speak, but I cut him off.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Who is going with?” he asks.

  “I am,” Fletcher interjects.

  Steven turns to find him lacing up his boot on the closet pew.

  “Nat and College Boy volunteered to come along, too, in case we find more than we can carry.”

  “They ready to go?” I ask.

  “Already outside,” Fletcher says.

  “Just give me a minute,” I say. “I’m going to have to check the bathrooms for water.”

  Fletcher makes a disgusted face.

  “I think I have enough to share with you,” Fletcher says. He stands up and lifts his pack off the floor.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  Fletcher dips his head down in acknowledgement then heads for the front of the church. I grab my pack off the floor as Steven watches me and scratches at the stubble on his chin.

  “You be careful out there,” Steven says.

  “I’m always careful,” I remind him.

  “I know,” he says. “I just worry.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” I tell Steven. “Don’t worr
y.”

  I head for the front door but before I can get there Lorento calls my name. I pause in the aisle and wait for her to speak.

  “Keep a close eye on him,” Lorento warns me. “I mean it. Don’t let him out of your sight for a minute.”

  I nod and make my way outside where Fletcher waits with Nat and College Boy. We make our way across the parking lot and out to the road. The warmth of the sun is already drying the moisture from the storms that passed through yesterday. Billowy clouds sail like massive ships on the currents in the bright blue sky. The long desolate country road stretches for miles ahead of us through enormous fields of crops and grains. There isn’t a sign of life or the dead. We don’t have the slightest idea how many miles we might have to walk before we reach another town.

  Even though it has been a long few days, getting a decent amount of sleep last night really helped. For the first mile or so, we walk alongside each other in silence, and it seems like the others are as content as me to enjoy the quiet and calm of the day. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Fletcher turning his head to look at me a few times.

  “I hope we’re not walking all day,” Nat says.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Fletcher tells her.

  “I thought I was going to be getting away from Kyle for awhile,” she says.

  “Hey,” says College Boy.

  “Your name is Kyle?” I ask him.

  “Yeah,” he nods. “Only these jerks insist on calling me College Boy.”

  “It’s because he thinks he’s so smart,” Nat says.

  “Shut up, Natalie,” he says.

  “You know where we found him?” she continues.

  “Come on,” he protests. “Don’t.”

  “He was hiding in a dumpster,” she laughs.

  “That’s not true,” Kyle says to me. “I was not actually in the dumpster.”

  “Yes, it is,” insists Natalie. “He stank like old broccoli for days.”

  “Okay,” Kyle admits. “That part is a little true.”

  “Sometimes, I swear, I can still smell it.” She sniffs near him to make her point.

  “Knock it off,” Kyle says and pushes her away.

  Listening to the two of them, I can’t help but laugh.

  “Cut it out,” Fletcher scolds them. “Pay attention. I don’t feel like dying today.”

  The two of them calm down and resume walking in silence.