Deserted with the Dead (Book 2): Fortress

by Riva, Aline

  Deserted with the Dead

  Book Two:

  Fortress

  Deserted with the Dead Book 2: Fortress by Aline Riva and Nathan Ward

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  A Kindle Original 2016

  Copyright ©Aline Riva 2016

  Copyright ©Nathan Ward 2016

  Cover Design Copyright © Nathan Ward 2016

  The Authors assert the moral right to be identified as authors of this work

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Deserted with the Dead

  Book Two:

  Fortress

  Introduction:

  It had seemed quiet at the petrol station, standing ghostly and quite empty, the door to the shop area hanging off on a broken hinge and creaking in the breeze. The floor of the place was scattered with crushed candy bars and scattered snacks – human food, not humans as food for the arisen dead, the victims of the Morbid virus as it was now known, the creatures were also known by those who survived as stinkers because now, after six months since the plague had begun, the corpses who walked the earth certainly did stink...

  Those who watched from a distance were covered by heavy shrubbery far across the other side of the motorway. They watched as a man stepped out of his car followed by a woman with red hair. Then from the back seat emerged a tall, greying man who carried a rifle, and with him was a much younger woman. All occupants of the car carried guns, but just the older man had the rifle, the others had handguns. The driver, a dark haired man in a leather coat, looked about nervously and then started to fill up the tank. The woman stood beside him looking about nervously as the tank slowly filled with petrol.

  Then they came, fast as hell from the shade of the trees where the woodland was dark, the dead in their rags and carrying the stink of decay, screeching and yelling like no sound ever heard from a living being as they ambushed the group.

  The older man took up firing stance and began to let off shots. He was a good aim and hit two of the creatures between the eyes, felling them in their tracks. A third lunged at the young woman beside him, and the back of its skull was blown off from a shot by the younger man's handgun.

  “Get in the car, Lauren!” he shouted, and the older man grabbed her by the arm, she stumbled, dropped her gun and snatched it up again quickly, then they got into the back of the car as the red haired woman fired more shots at another group of dead who were running towards the petrol station.

  “David!” yelled the woman firing the shots, “Too many of them!”

  He looked out of the open window, saw a small horde running towards them, and as his companion dropped the petrol pump leaving it to spill flammable liquid all over the forecourt, she jumped in the car as he fired up the engine, taking off with a screech of tyres as he snapped open a metal cigarette lighter, sparked the flame and tossed it backwards from the window as the car gathered speed. The flame rotated through the air, spinning amber flame like a firework, landing in the pool of petrol. The flames went up, along with every living corpse that had reached the scene. They flailed about in flames, screeching and struggling as the fire began the job of destroying the reanimated dead. As each one burned they moved, shifted, walked, ran, all oblivious to the pain as the flames claimed their mouldering flesh, made their eyes sizzle and pop, and then as the dead human torches stood burning, the petrol station exploded into a ball of orange flame, the boom shook the ground as the fire rose up, sending black smoke high into a blue sky. The driver of the car did not look back. The car kept going, heading down the ghostly motorway, towards a sign that pointed to the turn off that led to the nearest shopping mall.

  The two heavily armed guards watching from the other side of the motorway exchanged a glance.

  “Looks like trouble to me,” said the female who wore combat clothing. Her hair was fair and framed her face but the look in her blue eyes said that she had seen far too many battles with the risen dead for the age of twenty six.

  Her companion, an older, heavy built man with light brown hair and green eyes, wearing a faded shirt and scuffed jeans, nodded his head.

  “You're right, Sandra,” he said, “If they can take out the dead like that, what will they do to our mighty safe house?”

  She got up first, weapon ready, clutching the heavy gun in both hands as she swept her gaze left and right, checking for remains of the horde, then she stepped out on to the pathway and he followed.

  “Burn it to the ground after taking everything we have?” she wondered as she glanced to her companion, “It's been six months since the virus outbreak...almost as long since the dead took over. And those people in that car are fighting them like professional soldiers...And they're taking the route that leads to the plaza. Come on Toby, we need to warn Mr Lester.”

  Then her quickened pace broke into a jog as he too started to run, taking the pathway to the end, where his bike was waiting. Toby got on first and put on his helmet, then Sandra climbed on the back, did the same, then as the motorbike roared into life, she clung to him tightly as they took off at speed, taking a rough but much faster route back to the place that would eventually lead to the back gates of the parking area of the place known as the Fountain Plaza.

  The basement level of the Fountain Plaza, The Workshop:

  Rick 'Mall King' Lester:

  As I stand here and the lights flicker again I want to go back upstairs and tell someone to check that bloody generator because the power's meant to be constant and not stuttering. The light as it comes back on is enough, I can pause to turn off the blow torch and raise my visor and look at the piece of metal I've been crafting:

  I'm proud of the reflex sensitive contacts I'm going to install into the wrist clamp. It means I can use the blade or the dagger or fold them closed quickly. I'm going to attach a cover for it when it's all perfected – can't be waving my weapon hand about and slicing one of my friends by mistake when it gets rough out there...

  Stepping back from the bench, I'm looking down at the metallic hand that I'm currently wearing, it fastens at the wrist. The finger joints are perfect, the movement in the hand is very fluid, too. It's my best work. I used to design state of the art artificial limbs – hardly the stuff of scifi, not exactly cyborg parts, but close enough for this day and age. I never knew I'd need to use those skills for myself till the day one of those dead stinkers sunk its teeth into me. What could I do? I grabbed a machete and chopped off my left hand before the infection took hold.

  Thankfully some of my crew were able to stop me bleeding to death – Danny used to be a paramedic and he stopped the blood flow and then there was Melanie, she used to be a nurse. She closed it up and stitched it and did a good job of it too. She was killed out on perimeter patrol three weeks ago. Those fuckers come out of nowhere...

  It was my idea to come here to the Fountain Plaza, because when the shit hit the fan – when the stinkers, the stinking dead bastards came along – I was fortunate enough to be able to grab a few people together, and along the way we found others. For some reason they seem to like me being their leader. I only have two rules:

  If you join us, you declare your skills and offer them to the group, and safety comes first at all times, because the mall must be protected...

  I don't know how long we are safe to stay her
e. Maybe two, three years at the most? That's my guess, but for now it's all we have and it's a comfortable life, which is better than most have and good enough for me...

  Chapter 1: The King Will See You Now

  A short distance from the mall, where the pavement was now cracked and weeds had broken through, all that could be heard was the sound of running. A short, dark haired woman was running down the pathway, her breath coming in sharp bursts as she looked back, seeing the two men who had given her a ride from the last town were still in pursuit, and then she headed for an old parade of shops, where she darted in through a shattered window, her boots crunching on the glass that littered the fallen shop display of tailor's dummies as she ran for a back room, but as they burst in, kicking the door so hard it bounced back off the wall, the leader who was heavy set and could easily over power her – a frightening thought that she had realised as he had made his grab for her in the car – lunged forward, as she jumped back, grasping a shard of glass as she held it out, her wide eyes reflecting fear as the edge of the glass cut into her own palm and blood ran down, over the sleeve of her black top, dripping on to bleached blue jeans as she stood there, her dark hair now ruffled against her face as her eyes darted from one man to the other.

  “Get away from me! I'll cut you!”

  The second man pulled a long, thin blade from his coat and smiled.

  “Did you really think we gave you a ride to be nice? Your turn now. You'll be nice to both of us, Lois!”

  She didn't care the glass was cutting into her palm as she gave a yell and ran at the men, brandishing the bloody shard. As she collided with the first the glass went in, blood spurted from his arm, spraying up and hitting the ceiling as he gave a cry of pain as she screamed in terror and then the second guy was on her. Then a volley of shots came from the doorway, both men doing a jerking dance of death as bullets peppered their backs as the man who had her let go, spitting blood as he fell beside his companion.

  Lois looked to the doorway, blinked away tears and dropped the bloody shard of glass as she saw a man and a woman approaching her, and neither – thankfully - looked hostile.

  “You should come with us,” the woman in combat attire said, “I'm Sandra and this is Toby -” she glanced to the older man who stood beside her, “And it looks like you've cut yourself...what is your name?”

  “Lois,” she replied.

  Sandra grabbed a remnant of cloth from a table at the back of the room and handed it to her and Lois wrapped it around her hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “How did you get in that situation?” Toby asked, “Let me guess...they helped you out and promised to watch out for you?”

  Lois nodded.

  “The only people who want to take a woman along for the ride and make empty promises are the kind who do this shit,” replied Sandra, then she stood over the bodies of the men and pumped a bullet into the head of each of them.

  “Two less potential stinkers to worry about.” she added.

  Lois shivered as she clutched at her cut hand, her face was pale and she still wore a look of alarm after her ordeal.

  “I've been everywhere,” she said, “I ran, I hid, stole what I could to get by... all the while keeping away from those things...and sometimes people too...I thought I could trust those two guys...”

  Her gaze had shifted to the bodies bleeding out on the shop floor.

  “Sometimes its the living you have to watch out for too,” Sandra reminded her.

  Toby grabbed a dark pinstripe suit jacket from a fallen mannequin, gave it a shake to loose the dust and then draped it about her shoulders. It was way too big for Lois, but would keep her warm enough.

  “I'm taking the bike back to the plaza, I need to get word back to Rick about what we saw. You take care of Lois.”

  Toby left the shop, then the roar of his bike filled the air through the broken shop front as he rode away.

  Sandra smiled reassuringly at the shaken woman.

  “You're coming with me, I know a real place of safety – and a short cut to get there. We're going to the mall, Lois!”

  Down in the basement, in the room where Rick Lester stood welding the improved battle hand, his concentration was on the job as through his visor he watched the flame welding the metal, making adjustments that could later be fine tuned.

  “Rick?”

  He turned down the blow torch, still mindful of his task as he continued to work.

  “Yes Toby, what is it? Please don't tell me you ran into more stinkers on patrol today.”

  “No. People who blew up a petrol station. It was crawling with corpses and the four of them blew the place to hell and took a small horde with it, then they drove off. Two guys – one younger, one older, two women, again, one looked to be younger than the other... they handled the attack like professional soldiers.”

  “Good for them,” he said, “That's a few less stinkers on our turf to worry about.”

  “But Rick, they were heading for the road that eventually leads back here to the plaza.”

  He turned off the blow torch, pausing for thought.

  “Okay...I'm hoping for no hostilities but like you said they seem very capable. Step up border patrols and double the men on the main gate. Tell them to shoot first ask questions later if any one of that foursome so much as twitches near a trigger, okay?”

  “I'm on to it,” Toby replied, and then he left the room, on the way out passing Sandra and Lois, who had just arrived back.

  “This is Mr Lester,” said Sandra, “People around here know him as Mall King – he's in charge.”

  Rick put down his blow torch and turned around, lifting the visor then removing the welder's mask and placing it on the bench.

  “And you are...?” he enquired, his soft brown eyes meeting the wide blue gaze of Lois.

  “I...I'm Lois Green,” she replied, then she said no more, rather surprised at the striking sight of the man who stood before her in an elegant dark suit that fitted well to his tall, slender frame. His hair was neatly cut and fell in a fringe that ended just above his brow and the colour of it matched his eyes. Then she noticed his left hand seemed to be covered in some kind of steel glove, but the fingers were jointed.

  “And I'm Rick,” he replied, “Ignore the Mall King stuff, I'm just me...” he paused, realising her gaze had fixed on his metallic hand,“Don't mind this, it's only a prosthetic,” he told her, and slid his hand up inside the cuff and hit a button either side of the wrist, the device lost its grip as the clamping mechanism opened up, and he took off the hand and placed it on the bench, brushing down the sleeve of his shirt, covering the stump at the end of his wrist.

  She gave a gasp, and her stare got wider.

  “You just took your hand off...”

  He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  “I know it's not funny really,” he said as he stepped closer to her, “I lost my real hand when I was bitten by a stinker.”

  “But bites are infectious, bites turn the living into -”

  “There was no time for that, I chopped off my own hand.”

  Lois looked sharply to Sandra.

  “With a machete,” Sandra confirmed, “And with no hesitation.”

  “You look like you've been in the wars yourself,” he said, reaching out with his intact right hand, taking off the cloth she held to it and gently inspecting the cut to her palm.

  “I'll be okay,” she said as his fingertips gently touched the wound and he inspected it carefully.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Couple of guys... they attacked me. The only weapon I could lay my hands on was a shard of glass.”

  “I think you'll be okay,” he said, “You just need to get it cleaned up and covered properly....unless you want something like this?”

  He indicated to the hand on the bench as amusement danced in his eyes.

  “Want me to chop your hand off, Lois?” he said, and he winked.

  She start
ed to smile as she shook her head, laughing softly as she realised that smile of his and the look in his eyes said Rick very much had a sense of humour, even in these dark times...

  “Take her up to meet the others,” he told Sandra, “Get her hand fixed up too. She's welcome to stay.”

  Then he turned back to Lois.

  “I'll speak with you a bit later on, I'll explain the rules here, okay?”

  She nodded and smiled, then as she walked towards the door with Sandra, he called her name and as she looked back, he picked up the hand from the bench and gave her a wave with it. Then she was gone and his smile faded as he pushed the hand back on to his wrist, connecting the stump tightly with the metallic hand as he gave the connectors a squeeze, and once more the hand was in place.

  Then he thought about what Toby had said regarding the group in the car who had taken the stinkers out like professionals, then thought of his own people, and after flexing his artificial hand a few times to be sure the connections were stabilised, he put on his jacket and then headed for the door, pausing to draw a gun from his pocket, he checked the weapon, slipped it back into the pocket closest to his human hand, and then he left the basement, taking the lift to the ground floor, where he hoped his people would not be encountering trouble from those fellow humans who were apparently very good at killing – but if there was trouble, he was certainly ready for it...The lift continued to climb, and all the while Rick's hand stayed connected with the gun as he thought of the strangers. If they wanted to join his people, he guessed he might eventually become used to the idea – but if they caused any aggravation, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot to kill – this was his mall and he was going to make sure the people who lived here stayed safe and he felt no unease about the possibility of killing to ensure they all survived...