The Undead World (Book 6): The Apocalypse Exile (War of The Undead)

by Meredith, Peter

  Fred looked around with a hurt expression, but no one wanted to cross Sadie, not when they saw how deadly serious she was.

  Deanna wouldn’t have been so blunt, but she didn’t chastise the teen, since she was just as sick of Fred as anyone. “You have your orders, Fred,” she said, with a tongue of ice. “They do not involve running your mouth.” Fred snapped his lips closed and left. Deanna turned to Neil and asked: “What do you need to get us out of here?”

  “A map,” he answered, simply enough.

  Deanna found the map and, as Neil studied it, the renegades ran about getting everything together. To one side, Grey spoke quietly to the Gates family. “I’ve convinced them to come with us,” he told Deanna. “Explain to Neil that I’m going to need ten minutes to get Marybeth in the truck.”

  Though Deanna felt that every minute counted against them, she got Neil’s permission to delay their departure. He used the time to assign positions in each of the trucks and to disperse the two-way radios so that each of the four vehicles would be carrying one.

  With a minute to spare, the renegades were ready to go. Grey drove the lead five-ton with Deanna by his side. With them were Sadie and Neil. The map was spread on Neil’s knees and the scanner was set in front of Sadie, who worked the dial with the delicate fingers of a surgeon.

  “Thank God we found those painkillers,” Neil said. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.” No one knew what he meant until he told Grey to stay off the highways. They trundled directly through the city, driving on neighborhood streets, taking directions from Sadie who used the scanner to steer them away from the Duke’s men who were numerous but undisciplined when it came to using their radios.

  They crept down alleys and back roads and even when they reached the outskirts of Wichita, they didn’t chance the main roads. Neil pointed them across the last main highway north of the city. On the other side of it was a field of overgrown wheat. “Right through there. Keep north and we’ll run into a dirt road in a few miles. It should lead to this other road here that runs west a little.”

  Before the field, there was a ditch—Neil was right about it being bumpy.

  “Just one second,” Grey said, and then fumbled with the contraption he had taken off the undead airman back at McConnell. He loaded new batteries into the night vision goggles and when he put it across his eyes he grinned; he then showed Deanna the view.

  Although the night was extremely dark, the night vision goggles painted everything in shades of green. She could see, sixty yards out, almost as if it were day. Suddenly a grayish figure passed in front of her view. “Is that a...is that a zombie?”

  Grey took the goggles back. “Yep. These also register, in laymen’s terms, on the infrared scale, meaning these babies can see heat.” His excitement was contagious and everyone grinned at the prospect of having an edge over the undead, however the excitement died quickly as they went down into the field.

  The ride was slow and choppy. Deanna felt like her teeth were rattling in her head by the time they picked up the dirt road a half hour later. The ride smoothed but because of the frequent zombies, their speed didn’t pick up all that much. Many long hours were spent that night driving on dusty back roads, few of which were paved and even fewer of which possessed names; they were just lonely ruts meandering between farms.

  They all grew bored and, really, that was a good thing. There was no sign of the Duke. They had slipped the net thrown out for them in such a manner that even Jillybean couldn’t find them...or so Deanna hoped.

  As the eastern sky began to brighten behind them, Neil found a barn to hole up in for the day. As they had the marvelous and somewhat magical goggles of Captain Grey’s, Neil decided it would be safest to travel only at night.

  That was a fine idea, except that with the sun beating down on the barn was blazing hot and the hundreds of flies made sleeping nearly impossible. The one good bit of news was that the water from the farm’s well was clean and cool. Everyone had a chance to drink to their heart’s content and to bathe.

  In the late afternoon, Grey stitched Neil’s head and then went to check on Marybeth. She was still alive and she now had antibiotics working in her system—it was the only good thing one could say. She looked dreadful, nearly as grey in the face as a zombie. They loaded her up with extra painkillers for the drive that night.

  So far they had progressed a little over a hundred and eighty miles from Wichita. During that night, they spun another three hundred miles under their wheels. Again, as day threatened to undo the night they found a farm with a large enough barn to hide the trucks and to sleep in. That day was a repeat of the one before. The only change was when a herd of zombies went by. There had to be ten thousand of them moaning and kicking up a dust storm.

  They were gone by sunset and the renegades, after refueling, were as well. Just after ten that night they saw a sign that buoyed their spirits: Welcome To Colorful Colorado!

  For the first time in a few days they broke out fresh grins. “Where are the mountains?” Deanna asked, peering out of the window. “Why can’t I see them?”

  Grey laughed and pointed westward. “We’re still on the eastern plains. We have another two hundred or so miles.”

  In the old days that would’ve been a run of about three hours. Neil refused to get caught up in the excitement of being so close to their destination and kept them on the rutted and sometimes washed out dirt roads that had never been all that well maintained to begin with.

  Still, by dawn they were very close to the looming Rockies. Deanna’s spirits soared while next to her, Sadie could only manage a sour smile. “Sarah would’ve loved to have seen this,” she said.

  “And Eve,” Neil replied.

  “And Ram,” Sadie said, growing quieter.

  “And Jillybean,” Neil finished in a whisper.

  Neither Neil nor Sadie would say anything after that and it was up to Grey to find a spot to hide the trucks. They had looped far north of Denver where the land was still flat and open. He couldn’t find a barn that would fit all four vehicles and had to settle for one that could hide two of them. The other two were parked snugged up close.

  Other than the four people in the front of the lead vehicle, no one wanted to stop. “We’re an hour away,” Fred cried, throwing his hands in the air. “We could be there in time for breakfast.” Their food had run out the day before and everyone was hungry.

  “No,” Neil said, calmly, while next to him, Sadie’s hand was on her Glock. “We don’t know the state of things. The mountain roads can be blocked with ease. A trap could be set up in minutes. And we aren’t an hour away. We will go north to Larimer County, cut west on I-14 and then south to Estes. If all goes well it will be a four hour trip.”

  Fred, with an eye on Sadie, began to get riled, but Neil put his hands out. “Calm down. I only plan to stay here until noon. That gives us a six-hour rest. Use it wisely. We have no idea what may be in store for us.”

  The noon departure was set back an hour due to the unexpected arrival of another of the mega herds. It came down out of the north making a collective noise that sounded as though the earth were dying. Deanna watched from an upper window in the barn and shivered at the sight. Grey came and put an arm around her. They stood that way for a while, saying nothing and ye, just like that, the strangeness between them disappeared.

  When the herd had wandered south, Neil clapped his hands. “Time for the final lap.”

  The renegades, including Marybeth who was alive but so pale and skinny that she was closer to a wraith than a person, loaded into the trucks one last time.

  The trip to Larimer County was made in no time. I-14 was harder to manage. The road was narrow, at times only a single lane. Frequently they came across the remnants of rock slides and a few times, boulders had to be nudged out of the way by the powerful five-ton trucks. Still the sun was high in the sky when they were finally able to turn south onto a series of mountain roads that were smaller still, practically only pave
d trails. They were bordered by sheer rock walls on one side and heart-stopping cliffs on the other.

  The views were magnificent. The air smelled pure in a way that reminded Deanna of something, but of what she couldn’t put into words. “The air smells good,” she said.

  “What you smell is life,” Grey told her. “We don’t have too many zombies up here. Down there,” he pointed at the plains far to the east, “the land is sickened by the dead walking across its surface. Here, it’s just...it’s just better.”

  They wound in and out of the mountains and Deanna, despite the fresh air, feared an attack at any moment. Then they came around a bend and saw below them a beautiful lake and a wide land between great mountains. Everything was green and beautiful and wonderfully calm and quiet.

  Deanna didn’t need to be told they were looking at Estes Park, Grey’s home. Nothing had ever seemed so inviting. She began to cry.

  Chapter 32

  Jillybean/Eve

  The little girl, the innocent one, had her one triumph. For days on end, or so it felt, she had languished in the black depth of her own mind. During this imprisonment it was as though the glue holding the remains of her life together was failing and that at any time she would drift apart and become nothing, like the thin smoke disappearing above a candle.

  For the most part there was little to do and less to see, though every once in a while she caught glimpses of things: a monster staring into the headlights of a truck, a stained bandage that she knew had been used to dab the blood away from Marybeth’s wound, an air-control tower that somehow she understood to be at a place called McConnell Air Force base, though how she knew this was beyond her.

  Those were just glimpses and yet each had been important in some manner unknown to her. Now she saw something that was of such grave importance she stood up and strained to see through the twin lamps of her eyes. There was Neil Martin crawling backward in some tall grass and, closer, she saw a hand grenade being held in small fingers. It was a second before she realized: those were her own fingers!

  “Oh no,” she whispered, knowing what was about to happen.

  “Oh, yes,” Eve said, and then cackled like something evil...like a witch.

  Eve was going to kill the man who had once given her a very pretty doll for no reason except to make her happy. He was the man who had taught her to catch fish, one of which she had named Chedrick. He was the man who always ate yucky beans so she could have something better, like ravioli. He was the man who tucked her in at night and who made her brush her teeth. He wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but he always tried his best.

  He was going to die and he didn’t deserve it.

  The only problem was that Jillybean was powerless to stop his death. Eve owned the body they shared.

  “Then why are you still here?” a voice asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier on everyone if you just faded away?” It was not the voice of Eve, or her father or Ipes or any of her past victims. It was her own voice. A figure came to Jillybean and she felt a new fear: that of being revealed. She tried to hide in the shadows from the figure. But the figure was all in white and wherever she went, she exposed the flaws in the world.

  Jillybean ran. However it wasn’t like before, where there were doors and walls, here was only darkness and when the figure came, the darkness departed, leaving the shadow cast down by Jillybean’s body the only evil in their presence. Slowly the little girl turned.

  It was like looking into a mirror or the silver waters of the clearest lake, only this little girl was glowing.

  “You made her,” the girl said, pointing upwards. “Just like you created all of this around you. Just like you created me, and before me, you created the specter of your father and before that, you created Ipes.”

  “No,” Jillybean said. “Ipes was real. He had a real body and everything.”

  The other girl shrugged. “He was as real as I am.”

  There was silence between them, and yet there was noise as well. The Duke was groaning over his shattered ankle; the guns were barking from all around, and there was someone crying for their mother in the high grass.

  “How do I un-create her?” Jillybean asked, also pointing up.

  The girl looked sad. “You can’t. You can only bury her somewhere deep and hope she never comes back. But know this, she will fight you.”

  Jillybean already knew that, though in truth she knew all of this. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Because,” the figure said. “You don’t trust yourself. You see yourself as only a frightened little girl in a scary world and you know that if your daddy, who was so much smarter and so much bigger than you, could die, then what chance do you have? So in a sense, I am here to show you why you are in here. You are here because you are afraid. Remember, She trusts herself completely. She has no fear.”

  Jillybean looked up again and saw the small hand—her own hand—reaching for the grenade’s ring. When she looked back, the little girl in white was gone. Jillybean didn’t know what to do, she only knew that she couldn’t pull that pin. Neil would die and the world would be darker, and a much worse-er place without him in it.

  But how to stop it from happening?

  The hand reaching for the ring was moving in slow motion and Jillybean squinched up her face in concentration, demanding, on some level for the hand to stop, even though she knew it would mean another confrontation with Eve. Amazingly, the hand stopped. The hand clenched on nothing. It made a fist and did not open again.

  Eve didn’t seem to notice. Her laughter filled her as she threw the grenade out the window. It was a sad laughter to Jillybean. It was evil and since when did she have evil in her? Really, when did that happen? she wanted to know. Had it been all the ‘splosions and all the fire that made her head hurt sometimes that had turned her that way?

  Jillybean felt the world shift. Eve was moving. She expected the hand grenade to ‘splode and she was leaping out of the truck with the ease of a monkey, coming to land next to the Duke. His face was red and sweaty. His left ankle was a bloody mess. He was in pain. Eve sneered at him, hoping he would die.

  Jillybean felt sorry for him—his ankle had to hurt real bad.

  Eve wanted to run, however Jillybean refused. The Duke needed help. That was so obvious that she didn’t need the help of any spectral figure to know it. She concentrated and her feet held firm to the ground as if they had grown roots. Somehow she was gaining control of her own body again!

  “But he’s the bad guy,” Eve hissed.

  “Yes, but so are you,” Jillybean replied.

  “Am not!”

  “Then help him.” Jillybean knew that good guys helped people. They helped people even if it meant risking their own lives. She had risked her own life to save Ram, more than once. The same was true for Neil and all the renegades. “That means I really am a good guy,” she said in awe. She had never before made that connection.

  “I am good,” Jillybean declared.

  “Are not!” Eve hissed. “Remember the bottle?” A new image: Jillybean holding the poisoned bottle to the baby’s trusting lips.

  Jillybean felt her stomach lurch. “That was you,” she said to the evil girl.

  The Duke was watching the little girl go back and forth but turned as there was a thunk of something heavy a few feet from him. Jillybean turned as well and saw the grenade she had just thrown at Neil roll under the back of the next truck in line. There was no pin in the grenade, now.

  Realization struck Eve and she screamed: “Run!”

  Fear rippled up Jillybean’s little body and, involuntarily she took two steps before a thought came to her: What about the Duke?

  Eve hissed like a snake: “Let him die.”

  Jillybean’s first thought was: That’s what a bad guy would say.

  Neil never did think like Eve and neither did Ram or Captain Grey—they were good guys. They did things, often scary things, to help others. They were brave.

  “You used to be like that,”
Eve said, with poisonous breath. “But not anymore.” In a flash, Jillybean remembered the stark, raving mad fear that had turned her insides to jelly when she had been on the verge of being hauled up by her hands to be eaten to death by the swinging monsters.

  That was when she had lost it. That was when Eve had come back stronger than ever. She cackled again as a wave of goosebumps blistered Jillybean’s arms and back. Her feet started to lift—Eve was gaining control again and she was going to run. Her body felt like it was being used as a see-saw. It went back and forth as Jillybean and Eve gained and lost control.

  The logic-minded girl considered the see-saw and had a sudden insight: What was the fulcrum of their back and forth battle? What was the pivot that meant control or lack thereof?

  An answer came immediately: Fear.

  The more afraid Jillybean was, the stronger Eve became. The harder that Jillybean fought against her fear, the weaker Eve grew.

  The figure in white had told her to trust herself. “That’s what means being brave,” Jillybean said and then, in the heat of the moment, she turned and threw herself across the Duke, because that’s what Neil and Ram and Captain Grey and Sadie would have done. And it’s what Sarah had done when the bounty hunter had come to kill Jillybean. She had pushed Jillybean behind her and had died to save the little girl.

  The grenade exploded. A quarter-second later the truck’s fuel tank went up like a volcano turning night into day and baking Jillybean’s back. The concussive force of the twin explosion socked her a millisecond later. It was too much for her already damaged brain. She passed out, but, even as she did, she knew that, for at least that moment, she had won. She had been good and she had been brave.

  When she opened her eyes next, she found herself in a strange room. Its walls were made of white sheets and there were beds, the ends of which could be seen jutting from the hanging sheets. A lady sat on the bed next to her. She stared at the floor with dull eyes. One of her hands was chained to the metal headboard. There was a red ring around her wrist where the chain had bit. Her nose was bent and her lips swollen.