by Fuchs, A. P.
“You’ll scare ’em,” he said.
“There’s nothing to scare.” At least, she hoped there was nothing to scare. Though they hadn’t encountered any more undead, she knew well enough to be ready to run anyway.
“I sees them,” he said and raised his rifle.
“Where?”
“Over yonder.”
Over yonder? She peered through the trees and only saw the thick skeletal forms of branches and tree trunks. “There’s—”
“Lost ’em.” He turned to her. “You scared them away.”
“I can’t scare them. They scare us, remember? Never seen one run from us before. What’re you—”
“There!” he said and ran off into the woods, leaving her alone.
* * * *
The old black Ford truck sat askew across the highway. Joe remembered having gone by it before. Him and Tracy walked up to it. It was the fourth vehicle they came across, hoping it would start. The first two, Joe tried hotwiring again. They were modern enough to be protected from that. The third, an old Mustang from the early ’80s, he couldn’t figure out. He blamed it on his fatigue.
He opened the driver’s door. “Stand watch,” he told Tracy and handed her the X-09. He sat in the driver’s seat, scanned the dash then let his eyes drift over to the ignition. Yeah, right, he thought, seeing the keys dangling there. Sitting here in this comfy chair made him want to lean his head back and close his eyes, just a short rest before they kept going.
He must have actually done so because Tracy jolted him by saying, “You going to try it or should I?”
Joe shook the cobwebs from his head. “No, here.” He turned the key over and the truck started.
“How ’bout that,” Tracy said. She rounded the front of the vehicle and started to get in.
Joe noticed the bloodstain on her seat before she sat down. “Careful.” He nodded at the seat.
“Looks dry.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be safe.”
“I’ve been in worse.”
“True.”
She sat down and closed her door. He closed his. Shifting the truck in drive, he straightened the vehicle out on the road and headed toward the city.
They rode in silence; Joe guessed their conversation earlier had changed things, at least it certainly felt like it.
Tracy leaned across him for a moment then sat back in her seat. “Just under half a tank. Got to wonder what happened to the owner.”
“Passenger probably got taken first, driver was pulled out. My seat was clean.”
“Or maybe the driver was trying to get a bitten passenger out of town and things turned south?”
“Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Just happy we found something with keys in it.”
“Yeah.”
As they drove, they caught the occasional glimpse of a handful of zombies wandering the fields beside the road. The closer they got to the city, the bigger the numbers seemed to grow. Joe found it odd that very few undead were on the road proper; most kept to the fields and ditches along the side.
“They’re all leaving,” Joe said.
“I don’t know about all of them.”
“Seems kind of weird, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s even weirder there seems to be a kind of method to it.”
“Learning?”
“Doubt it, in that the ones we’ve encountered didn’t seem smart or anything.” She leaned forward and placed her palms on the dash, her eyes scanning her side of the windshield and the passenger window. “But you would think if there is something going on, they’d just come out in a giant mob. Why keep the roads clear?”
“Don’t want to navigate around abandoned cars?”
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too. Maybe they’ve pieced enough info together from being in the city that they’re at least smart enough to avoid obstacles. Look, their brains are obviously working. That’s why they’re reanimated. Not only can their arms and legs move, but they can see, make noise despite non-working lungs, and have a desire to eat human flesh. I think there’s more going on than just the basics.”
“The basics.”
“Basic zombie stuff, if there is such a thing.”
“I don’t know what to say about all this anymore.”
“There’s nothing to say, Tracy. The dead are walking. Anything can happen.”
* * * *
Hank was a lunatic. It was no longer a question. No one in their right mind would leave another human being behind. No one in their right mind would see a couple zombies afar off and hightail it after them.
Billie ran behind him, her short legs pumping away hard and fast, just to keep up. Tree branches slapped her hands and face as she tried to follow Hank’s path.
The man ran on ahead of her, one arm swinging at his side for momentum, the other clutching his shotgun.
“Hank!” she screamed.
If he had seen zombies, he surely would have caught up with them by now. The dead weren’t fast.
She was certain the guy was so far gone that he totally imagined them and was chasing phantoms.
I don’t have a choice, she thought. I can’t stay out here by myself. Got nothing to defend myself with except for some sticks. He’s got a gun. Strength in numbers.
Panting, she dug in her heels and ran even faster. “Hank, slow down! I can’t keep up. Come on, stop! Hank!”
The man kept running and disappeared behind a group of thick-trunked trees.
“No!” she screamed, thinking that she lost him. “Nonononono . . .”
Billie slowed down against her will, her body starting to give out. Gasping for breath, she brushed away more branches. Her hands slipped off one, scraping the inside of her palms. The branch snapped back and whipped her in the throat. She stopped, tripped, and landed on her knees. Neck stinging from the branch, she put her fingers to her throat. She pulled them away and saw a thin film of blood. Catching her breath, she pressed her knuckles into the ground and got up.
She continued with a light jog after adjusting her glasses again.
“Hank!”
No answer.
A minute later, the trees began to thin, as did the bushes. She soon found herself on an outcrop of rock overlooking a lake.
She stopped, bent over at the waist and put her hands on her knees. Hank stood not far from her, gun held with both hands. His gaze was on the lake.
Swallowing the cotton ball in her throat, Billie straightened and examined the shoreline across the way.
Undead men, women and children lined the shore, their sopping wet bodies ambling into the woods. Other zombies stood in the water where it was shallow, others just coming up out of it after walking along the lake bed. A few moved along the shore to find a place to climb up onto the land. A few attempted to climb up along the rocks along the far right of the lake. Some made it, and tripped over the uneven surface. Others couldn’t find purchase on the rocks and kept sliding off, falling back into the water. More undead pushed past them and tried to climb up as well.
Undead groans hovered on the lake, loud and airy. Billie supposed she mustn’t have heard them above her own heavy breathing as she ran toward this rocky outcrop.
To her left and right, further down on her side of the lake, zombies emerged from the forest and walked into the water. Some waded in like going into the shallow end of the pool. Others waded in and after ten or so feet disappeared beneath the water’s surface.
In her peripheral, a man came up beside her. “Something has gone terribly wrong.”
She knew that voice.
“Nathaniel,” she said. She turned toward the angel, who was in his human form.
“Where’d you come from?” Hank said.
“It’s okay, Hank. I’m a friend of Billie’s,” Nathaniel said.
“How’d you know my name?” Hank took off his hat, scratched his head, then slid it back on. “Oh, wait, you’re that feller who got that zombie guy for me, right? ’Member? A couple m
onths back I was camping out somewheres down that way” —he pointed a ways down the bank— “and you came along ’cause I’d fallen asleep and those things we’re going to eat me?”
“I remember, Hank. And you remember what we talked about, right?”
Hank grinned, his eyes sparkling like a child’s. “I sure do.” He pulled out a crucifix from under his jacket. “I may not think straight, but I knows what you told me. I pray now. Talk to Jesus. I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will, Hank. I know.”
Billie just furrowed her brow, but was relieved to discover Hank, it seemed, was completely human after all. She turned to Nathaniel. “What kind of problem? Where’s Michael?”
“Still fighting. He allowed me a window to escape so I could find you. I’m sorry for leaving you, but the enemy sent some of his top soldiers to capture us. I’m glad they left you alone.”
“I’m happy you’re okay. You’re not . . . hurt . . . are you?”
“Our warfare is different than what you probably think. I don’t have time to talk about that right now anyway. Something has gone terribly wrong, like I said.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you.”
43
The Dust Cloud
“We go to the Hub first,” Tracy said.
“Agreed,” Joe said.
They were coming up on the city limits now. Joe hoped the big truck would maneuver around the abandoned vehicles as easily as the El Camino had.
The few zombies that were on the road, he ran over. The truck plowed through them as if they weren’t even there.
As they drove past the Chief Peguis Bridge, Joe immediately took note of the change of air and its powdery taste despite the windows being closed. The closer they got, the worse it became. It wasn’t long before they saw the source of the change: a huge dust cloud grew larger and larger before them, billowing out and heading their way.
Joe drove around a few more cars before being forced to pull off to the side because it got too difficult to see.
The dark brown and gray cloud grew closer, picking up speed and rushing toward them.
“Look out!” Tracy said, pointing at the windshield.
“It’s heading right for us.” He threw the truck in park and turned the engine off. “Get to the floor. Now!”
They slid off the seats and huddled on to the floor just as a rush of wind rocked the vehicle. The glass above their heads shattered and blew inwards; the rear window also blew out. Joe pressed his hands to his mouth and put his face to the ground to avoid clogging his lungs with dust. Dirt and dust filled the vehicle as the cloud blasted through the truck. The Ford teetered to the side, then spun like a clock’s arm to the right, the wind carrying it. This close to the floor, Joe heard the tires screech as they slid across the pavement.
He hoped Tracy was okay. Was she breathing? There was no way to ask her lest he open his mouth and choke. He felt the weight of the dust settle upon him, growing heavier and heavier.
* * * *
Tracy wanted to gag and cough, but instead could only bury her face in her sleeve even further. She could barely breathe against the leather.
Joe. Joe. Joe. His name echoed inside her head. Joe. Joe. Josh. Josh. Josh. I love you, Josh. I love you. If she was going to die, then at least she’d see him soon.
The truck spun in a circle, tipped to the side, rocked back down. The momentary jolt was enough to loosen her mouth from her sleeve. A flood of dust pushed against her tightly-pressed lips, trying to get in. She squeezed her mouth shut even harder.
Lost in the dark of closed eyes, she listened as the wind rushed overhead like a tornado. The weight of the dirt and dust settling on her pressed her closer to the floor. She felt her legs starting to get stuck there seemed to be so much. She couldn’t open her eyes to check unless she wanted to go blind.
The truck spun again, first one circle then another before slamming into something. It rocked upward, slammed back down. A moment later, it rocked upward again and gravity left the interior of the cab for a moment before reactivating in full force, sending Tracy’s body into something hard. She hit her head against what she assumed was the underside of the glove compartment. Her feet hit something else kind of soft and she hoped it wasn’t Joe.
Lying at an odd angle with one knee pressed against her chest, her other leg bent and up against something hard, she winced when a sharp pain spiked across the back of her skull.
The truck spun again.
The wind howled.
44
The Gathering
Nathaniel held Billie about the waist on one side, Hank on the other. The gray-stained lake was far below them. Bronze-robe fluttering around her, she couldn’t believe Nathaniel had taken her into the air.
She smiled despite herself and felt especially bad about it because Nathaniel’s face was nothing short of utter seriousness. He kept his fiery eyes gazing ahead. Hank had a small smile upon his face and appeared to be taking the flight in stride, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.
The forest stretched on ahead of them, covered in gray and void of green foliage. Even the evergreens had lost their needles. The earth was a brown, black and gray mosaic.
The flight was short as Nathaniel brought them far enough away from the zombies to avoid being detected, but close enough to see what was going on. They landed on a large and wide tree branch some four or five stories from the forest floor. Nathaniel held each of them about their waists to help keep them balanced.
The undead moved in droves toward what appeared to be a series of large rocks piled in and around each other, some of them partly buried in the ground. A couple of dark openings marked the rocks, narrow and wide. It reminded Billie of a wolf den.
The zombies gathered around the rocks, hundreds of them, with the majority in front. Some stood on the rocks themselves.
They remained standing there, rocking side-to-side on their feet, eyes vacant, jaws slack. More and more of the undead joined their number, those making their way through the forest finally getting to the gathering site.
“Oh brother,” Hank said, drawling out the words. “Look at them.”
Decaying men, women and children covered the forest floor. It was as if every zombie in the province was here. Billie smelled their deadly stench even from up here. Their moans rose on the air, filling her ears. She could envision their gasping tones seeping their way into her brain, threatening to drive her mad.
Her skin crawled. Her heart beat so hard she winced from the pain.
“Be strong,” Nathaniel told her.
“So many,” she whispered. This was why Nathaniel and Michael were taken. If they were with me, she thought, they could have seen all these zombies coming and stopped them. Now . . .
“Nathaniel, what is this?” Billie asked.
“They are coming together,” he said.
“What for?”
“To greet the devil.”
About the Author
A.P. Fuchs is the author of many novels and short stories, most of which have been published. His most recent books are Magic Man Plus 15 Tales of Terror and Zombie Fight Night: Battles of the Dead, in which zombies fight such classic monsters as werewolves, vampires, Bigfoot, and even go up against awesome foes like pirates, ninjas, and . . . Bruce Lee.
A.P. Fuchs is also known for his superhero series, The Axiom-man Saga, and the author of the shoot ’em up zombie trilogy, Undead World. He also edited the zombie anthologies Dead Science and Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes: Zany Zombie Poetry for the Undead Head.
Fuchs lives and writes in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Visit his corner of the Web at
www.canisterx.com
Check out the Undead World Trilogy at
www.undeadworldtrilogy.com
And follow him on Twitter at
www.twitter.com/ap_fuchs
Praise for Blood of the Dead
Book One of the Undead World Trilogy
; “Blood of the Dead isn’t what you think it is. Sure, it starts out as a zombie jamboree that drags you through hell on Earth, but then it goes further . . . a lot further . . . and takes you straight to hell and back again. This is the stuff of nightmares, boys and girls, with some unnerving and frightening action scenes that will have you on the edge of your seat and haunt your dreams.”
- Rick Hautala, author of The Wildman and Occasional Demons
“A satisfying addition to the ever-growing zombie subgenre . . . non-stop action and flesh-eating mayhem . . . Blood of the Dead will be enjoyed by any zombie fan.”
- The Horror Fiction Review
“Frantically paced and never predictable, Blood of the Dead takes the usual staples of the zombie-genre—blood, guts, guns and action—and mixes them with the bizarre to create a unique story. It’s a formidable mix—think Night of the Living Dead with a healthy dash of Dante’s Inferno! Fuchs leads his cast through a nightmare world filled with relentless pain, constant fear and never-ending waves of dead flesh, then takes them some place worse . . . . You’ve never read a zombie story like this before!”
- David Moody, author of the Autumn series
