Dext of the Dead (Book 3): We Are The Entombed

by Kuhn, Steve

  Lilly took Murphy’s cue and improvised her own little work of art, saying, “Son of a damn shit!”

  I suppose we should have been correcting her for cussing and all that, but it was funny as hell. She didn’t even know what she was cussing at or why she was doing it at all. Now that Dana wasn’t around to piss and moan about everything, I guess it was up to us to parent her in that sense, but I was all about choosing my battles. I guess we need to decide if we’re going to let her cuss, should we teach her do it correctly, or what? Or should we not allow it at all. Frankly, I need a laugh every now and again, and that shit never gets old to me.

  JC was right, though. I would have thought that the noise would spook them and send them flying away or that they’d ignore it altogether. Instead, the flock slowly but surely began to grow in the sky. They were getting closer, actually approaching us.

  “The dead are on their way,” JC said, now convinced his theory was correct.

  The birds were hovering over who knows how many dumbshits, but we could ‘see’ them approaching. It was actually quite brilliant if you think about it, using the birds to track the herds.

  Well spotted, Lilly. Not bad, kiddo.

  Cutty advised, “I suggest we move our asses ’fo dey get much closer.”

  Murphy nodded an agreement while still deep in thought at the newest revelation. He added, “Ya know, not only can we track them. I bet we can steer them.”

  It was probably true, but we could speculate on that shit all day long once we were in the relative safety of the truck. Standing on the side of the road with our dicks in the wind was hardly the place for all that. I suggested we vacate the premises.

  The sign from Kilo was ominous. It was different from the others we’d seen thus far. It was painted completely black and had white writing on it this time.

  ‘EXTREME CAUTION! PIRATE TERRITORY!’

  The entire sign had a huge, red ‘X’ across it—very strange.

  Needless to say, we weren’t planning on spending any time there, but we’re definitely going to be staying more alert. Keeping three people in the cab of the truck and one man with Lilly in the trailer seemed like the safest setup if something went wrong. We could only assume that these ‘pirates’ were just another roving band of raider assholes.

  Entry 105

  Murphy had given up on the CB radio after Cutty told him, “If I gotta listen ta that muhfuckin’ static any longa, you gon’ have ta listen ta me whoopin’ up on yo’ ass…”

  JC gave a snarky, “Would you prefer we put on the soothing sounds of Motown then? A little Al Green as we drive a motherfucking armored tractor trailer through motherfucking postapocalyptic, Middle motherfucking America, Cutty? Would you maybe prefer a little P-Funk All Stars while we look for our motherfucking one-eyed, ex-sniper lady friend in pirate-infested motherfucking territory while we dodge cannibalistic, reanimated motherfucking corpses, perhaps?”

  I snorted a laugh to myself, but Cutty wasn’t amused. He stared at JC blankly as he tried to think of a comeback. Defeated, he sucked his teeth loudly and shot back, “Nigga, fuck you!” half jokingly. “I don’t even like P-Funk.”

  JC was clearly more of a challenge than Junior was when it came to witty banter.

  I told Cutty I wasn’t much of an Al Green fan, and he said, “E’ry body like Al Green. Ain’t nobody ever said they don’t like no Al Green…”

  Murphy quieted us down, snapping, “All right, knock it off for Christ’s sake. Y’all sound like an old, married couple. How about a piss break?”

  I was like, “Hell. Yes!” I had been holdin’ in a piss for at least an hour, and my eyeballs were beginning to float.

  “You girls go on and handle your business, and I’ll try the radio Cotton gave us. Who knows? She coulda made it to Kilo by now and be sittin’ purty.”

  With Lilly napping in D-Prime’s trailer along with Fart, who was still recovering from her tail wound, I took JC along with me and left Cutty at the truck with Murphy. JC kicked rocks as we walked a few yards away to take a leak, keeping his bear strapped across his belly and ready to go in an instant. It sounds slightly gay, but I feel safer with JC by my side—no more than Cutty, mind you, but still. We squashed that shit between me and him a while ago, and things have been good since.

  On our way back to the truck, he said to me, “You really think we’re gonna find her?”

  Of course not. In my heart I know Kylee’s long gone—hopefully alive and hopefully safe, but definitely long gone. I lied and told JC, “Of course we are. Just a matter of time.”

  He seemed satisfied with that and nodded before suddenly stopping me by putting his hand on my chest then whipping his rifle to his shoulder. I drew my shit and took up a covering position to his blindside without a second thought. My head was on a swivel, but I had no idea what I was looking for. Nowadays, when your buddies jump, you’re just ready to go, no questions asked. Already I was shaking from adrenalin.

  He scanned the area through his scope, eyeing the tree line thoroughly before lowering it. “Weird,” was all he said.

  “What’s weird?”

  He slung the rifle over his shoulder and said, “I just got the weirdest feeling, like someone was reading over my shoulder or staring at me from across the room. I feel like I’m losin’ it, man.”

  He probably needed to sleep. I don’t think I’ve seen him even take a nap since we lost Rebecca the other day. Cutty prays and then sleeps like a gigantic, snoring baby, but not JC. I think it’s because he saw it all through his scope. I remember trying to ask him how it happened to her. He won’t say it, though. He opened his mouth like he wanted to, but then just shook his head and said, “I… I just missed.”

  I hope he isn’t carrying that shit on his shoulders. Rebecca shouldn’t have run away. That’s the bottom line for me. I’ll never say it to Cutty, but the truth is, she brought that shit on herself. Sure, Cutty said ‘run,’ but you don’t take that shit literally in the middle of a fucking fight. You back off enough to sort your shit out, and then you finish what you started. Rebecca panicked, and she died because of it—her fault. Sad but true.

  I told JC, “Shake it off. That one ain’t on you.”

  We got back to the truck in time to see Murphy toss the radio on the passenger seat. I asked him if he heard anything.

  Cutty stood below Murphy on the ground and turned to meet us. “We ain’t heard a damn thing, man. Mo’ fuckin’ static.”

  I reminded Murphy about shutting the radio off to save the battery, which he did.

  Murphy said, “Fellas, Kylee said in that letter to call bullshit when I see it. Well… I’m callin’ bullshit. This is hopeless. She could be anywhere right now, and our only lead turned out be a bust—one that cost us dearly. We should go back before we find ourselves in another mess.”

  Cutty sighed heavily and said, “I know. I ain’t wanna admit it, but you right, Murph. We ain’t got no clue where ta go next. We just drivin’ along at dis point, wastin’ gas and riskin’ lives.”

  JC threw his arms up as if to say ‘I dunno.’ He wouldn’t have asked me what I thought back there if he wasn’t having his own doubts. The simple fact that I didn’t think we were going to find her meant all four of us were on the exact same page, but lying to ourselves about it and lying to each other.

  “All right then. It’s settled. We’re going back to Cotton,” I told them. “Anybody got a problem with that?”

  Beaten and saddened, everyone shook their heads and began to get ready to go.

  “You guys are pussies!”

  Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked up to where the voice was heard from.

  Lilly stood atop the trailer with her hair a mess. She clutched her dinosaur and rubbed her eyes before tugging at her twisted pants and shirt to straighten them from her nap. She had climbed the ladder and let herself out through the hatch Murphy made in the top of the trailer for emergencies—something she wasn’t allowed to do, by the way.

>   Cutty asked her, “Uh… what was dat, li’l miss?”

  Lilly repeated herself impatiently, “I saaaaaaid… you guys are pussies—big, fat, giant pussies.”

  The four of us just stared at one another in shock. I’m not sure if we were shocked at the fact that she disobeyed us by letting herself out, that she pretty much just called us out as cowards, or that she actually used a dirty word in the right context—probably all of it, really.

  As a side note, I was slightly proud of her for cussing correctly. I guess you could call it a ‘dad’ moment…

  She continued to light us up, saying, “Rebecca would be very mad at you.”

  JC bowed his head slightly, and Cutty winced at the mention of Rebecca. JC tried to reason with her, saying, “Look, kiddo, it’s dangerous out here, and we don’t even know where to look anymore. We could get hurt. You could get hurt. It’s just not safe.”

  Lilly scowled and snapped, “Then that means Kylee could get hurt, and she’s all by herself. I bet she’s scared.”

  Goddammit, kid…

  She demanded angrily, “We can’t leave her alone. She doesn’t even have a stuffed animal! I thought you were tough, JC. And you can keep us safe, too, Cutty.”

  Cutty rolled his head around to stretch his neck uncomfortably, casting his eyes to the sky in thought. It was written all over his face that Rebecca was weighing heavily on his mind, as much as his self-loathing for having failed her.

  Cutty told her, “It’s complicated, baby girl.”

  Lilly shook her head and retorted, “No, it’s not.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Singing the words slightly, she said, “No it’s nah-ot.”

  Cutty huffed frustratingly, defeated once again, and this time by a five-year-old.

  He told her, “Just git yo’ li’l ass back in da traila.”

  Lilly asked us all, “So, we’re going to get Kylee then, right?”

  Murphy started to say, “No, we’re n—”

  I cut him off. “Yeah. We’re gonna keep trying—at least for a little while, Lilly.”

  You want me to lead, Kylee? You want me to act instead of thinking?

  Fine.

  But you better not get me killed.

  Entry 106

  Murphy pulled an arrow from a bernie’s head this morning that he shot while Cutty was siphoning fuel from an abandoned lawnmower. Every single vehicle we’ve come across lately is bone dry, and our supplies are dwindling. We’ve passed two shopping centers, and they’ve been completely wiped out as well. If the entire country were a corpse, these parts of the skeleton have been picked clean by the carrion feeders.

  He wrapped the head of the arrow with a moist piece of rag torn from an old shirt and stashed it in a newer, handmade quiver he had fashioned himself. These were separate from his other arrows. I asked him about this new behavior.

  “This is what I call an insurance policy, Sally,” he told me without elaborating further.

  I pressed him for more info, asking, “Insurance policy for what?”

  He never stopped or looked up from his work, telling me, “These clean arrows are for hunting, but these ones here are for the living. We come across any of these raider types or pirates or whatever they’re callin’ ’em, we might have a problem on our hands. I may need to shoot that problem, and if I shoot that problem, these arrows here will make sure they ain’t gonna be livin’ too far past that. Think of it like a primitive version of biowarfare.”

  Cutty chimed in with, “Murph, you’s a sly muhfucka, but that ain’t gon’ help us much, man. Gon’ take too long for dat infection to set in and burn ’em up. Anybody who hit wit’ one o’ dem’s still gon’ live long enough to kill yo’ old, cranky ass.”

  Murphy threw the quiver over his back as he stood up and said, “Then that’ll make us about even then, won’t it now?” He stalked off towards D-Prime without another word to peek in on Lilly.

  JC whistled us over to the trailer from his position as lookout. We had him posted on top of it so he could keep an eye on Lilly as well as our scavenging. See, Lilly had been really bummed out about not being able to be outside much or being able to play and all that. I can understand where she was coming from, too. How was it any different than living as a prisoner for her? We fed her, clothed her, and kept her locked in the trailer. That’s a pretty fucked-up analogy when you think about it. We were keeping her captive in the name of her own safety.

  Now, the guys didn’t really seem to care about looking at it that way—not because they were heartless pricks, but more because they just felt her safety trumped everything else.

  My solution?

  We make her an area to play every time we stop. Does it take extra time and effort to push cars and shit into position? Yes. Does it take extra energy to form those cars or whatever into a ring to block her in safely? Yes. Do I mind doing it? Absolutely not. She’s a kid, not a prisoner. And if any of the others bitch and moan about it, tough shit. I made the call. I’ll do it myself if I have to.

  JC hopped down in a few jumps from atop the trailer, holding the radio and grinning widely. “I got ’em! They heard us!”

  We met him in the ring of vehicles along with Lilly, and he tossed the radio to Murphy, who caught it skeptically. There was a long, intense pause for all of us as Murphy inhaled deeply and pushed the button. “Hello. Can anyone hear this?” he said, clearly and concisely.

  Immediately following the static of Murphy’s button release, we heard the response, “Identify yourselves.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Finally! After all this time! Kilo fuckin’ company, baby!

  Murphy cleared his throat and made every attempt to hide his own excitement before responding with, “We are survivors. We have no injuries to speak of, but we are dangerously low on supplies. Can you help us?”

  The voice crackled, “How many are you?”

  Murphy looked at us as if to ask us what we were going to say. Cutty nudged him to respond, but Murphy hesitated.

  JC told Murphy, “Answer ’em!”

  Murphy sighed slightly and said, “What about Kylee?”

  Shit. In my own excitement, I had nearly forgotten about that. This was our shot! This was what we’d waited for all this time and been running towards for I don’t know how long!

  I told Murphy, “Tell them everything! Tell them about Kylee and that we’re looking for her. See if they can meet us. See if they can help us find her.”

  Murphy said, “And what if they won’t? What if they tell us they can get us outta here, but they can’t help us with anything else? What then?”

  I looked at JC to get my back here. He chewed his lip impatiently and said, “Look, if nothing else we can get Lilly dumped off and safe—maybe get some supplies, some ammo.”

  Lilly actually stood quietly for once. Her little ears were picking up everything, though—no doubt.

  Cutty broke his silence and said, “I’m wit’ dat. At least we know dey close. Le’s just get wit’ ’em and go from there.”

  Murphy nodded and pressed the button again, “There are five of us.”

  The voice came back with, “Do you have women and children?”

  Murphy replied, “Yes. One child. No women.”

  Cutty frowned.

  There was a long pause. It was really uncomfortable, too, because it felt like we could lose them at any second. That’s just how our luck had been, ya know? But they came back, finally saying, “Where are you?”

  Murphy knew the map better than any of us, so he relayed some landmarks and our general direction of travel. The voice responded, saying, “Continue your direction of travel for three miles. Turn left at the old tractor depot, and look for the business park. We’ll wait for you there. Clear this channel until we contact you further.”

  Murphy replied in the affirmative and told us, “Let’s go.”

  I can’t believe we’ve finally found them! Wyatt and Fool would be so happy right now. Trey and Rebecca wo
uld be, too. Would have been nice to reunite Fool with some of his buddies, but at least we can drop his name. Perhaps they’ll be more willing to help if they know we ran with one of their own for a while.

  We’ll meet up with them, get sorted out, get Lilly safe, and see about getting some help finding Kylee.

  Entry 107

  I’m sure that at some point in everyone’s life they wonder how they’re going to go. There are countless ways that a life can come to an end. Most, I assume, hope to go quietly and peacefully in their sleep or some shit because that’s the least scary; most won’t. Before the outbreak, the worries were things like cancer, or accidents, or the random violent crime. After the dead returned, the obvious fear was being torn apart or, even worse, becoming one of them. Now, we not only have to worry about all that, but also about the living and what they are capable of. We have to worry about starvation, and sickness of any sort can become a death sentence. We were perched atop the food chain, and modern medicine was a wonder of the ages. We were complacent and lazy.

  Thoughts of taking another person’s life, for me anyway, passed only in extreme cases of anger and frustration, but even then I knew I would never actually do it. It just never seemed worth it to spend the rest of my life in jail or living with some haunting guilt. When Wyatt and I killed Gunner at the Haven, I never lost any sleep over it. That was a kill-or-be-killed situation… self-defense, clearly. I don’t know what you would call our actions today. All I do know is that a haunting guilt will follow me forever now.

  We were stupid, blinded by hope and deaf to our own reasoning. I suppose that’s natural given the road we have traveled for so long, but inexcusable in our naivety.

  We followed the directions of Kilo to the letter and pulled into the business park. A random selection of military vehicles sat parked sloppily along the corridor of garage-style doors owned by the various companies that had once leased space here. A handful of men, maybe ten or so, in military fatigues patrolled the rooftops as a huge, lumbering wrecker with an enormous tow setup on the rear pulled forward slightly to bar the entrance; the fencing around the park had no gate. The perimeter was secure, but there were only a few men on the ground level with us. These men were in civilian clothes.