DEAD: Blood & Betrayal: Book 11 of the DEAD Series

by TW Brown

  “Yeah, Jim and I are the lucky ones, right?”

  “I’d heard that Mister Sagar made it back as well. Not Jackson, though?” Cynthia joined us.

  “He is being sacrificed for some imaginary greater good.” I made no effort to hide my anger and bitterness.

  “That is the way of things now,” Cynthia said, and I saw a sadness cross her face that made me pause. “Did I ever tell you how I lost my husband?”

  I shook my head.

  “We had been on the road for a while. We’d recently lost Xander’s mom and dad. It was just the three of us on our own and we were pretty beat up. Glenn, my husband, he was probably in the best shape between he and I and so he did almost all of the hunting and foraging as we headed north towards a settlement that we’d heard of…this one as it would turn out.

  “To make a long story short, we got to this river. Glenn had to cross it with a rope so that we could get to the other side with the baby. We’d been outrunning this group of raiders for almost a week and felt that getting across that river would be our only chance as they were gaining ground at a scary clip. The thing is, Glenn got this whole thing hooked up and then, once we were across, he cut the rope. He said that he would lead the people chasing us in another direction for a while so that Xander and I could get a good distance ahead. He promised that he would catch up to us eventually, but he made me promise to keep going until I reached the settlement we had heard was a safe place. I never saw him again.”

  I sat there for a minute and tried to see how this matched up to what we were doing with Jackson. It wasn’t that I was stupid, but it sounded to me like Cynthia’s husband had made an actual choice. We were making Jackson’s choice for him.

  “I know it’s tough, Thalia,” Sunshine said, her arm around my shoulders as she started to lead me back to my home. “But you have to trust that this is the right choice. Jackson would probably say those very words if he were standing right here with us.”

  I let her lead me away. I was tired. Everything was blurring together into one big lump. I was having a very difficult time sorting out one part of this mess from the other. The loss of Island City; Hunter being turned into a zombie by Suzi; Jim pretending to be gimpy and then supposedly sneaking out of the camp and sending for help.

  And through it all, my mind returned to Jackson. What terrible fate would we be consigning him to by just abandoning him like this?

  Somehow, I found myself walking through the door to the apartment I shared with Stevie and Melissa. They both welcomed me home again with almost as much excitement as they had when I’d first walked through the gates. There were crates stacked by the door. I saw that my stuff had somehow been packed as if they fully expected me to return.

  I tried to smile as Melissa sat us down to dinner. Only, I couldn’t taste a thing. I forced myself to be pleasant as Stevie made it a point to try and catch me up on every single thing that had happened in my absence.

  When dinner was at its merciful end, I excused myself and went in to bed. I waved a hand to acknowledge that I understood we would be leaving with the first caravan tomorrow. I heard Stevie ask if I was okay and Melissa’s attempt to give him some sort of soothing answer stating that I was fine, but just tired.

  I wasn’t fine.

  I lay down; certain that I would fall into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares about Jackson being turned into a zombie. That was only partly true. I did fall asleep eventually. But when my eyes opened, it was still dark and I did not recall one single nightmare. I felt numb.

  When I got up and walked into the living room, I already knew what I was going to do. I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted a note. It was simple and to the point. It read: I can’t leave Jackson like this. I am sorry.

  I slipped into my field gear and walked out into the darkness.

  10

  Vignettes LXIV

  Juan jerked his weapon free, his eyes frantically seeking his daughters who had suddenly vanished from sight. A handful of seconds later, he had his answer. Both girls sprang up from seemingly out of nowhere. Each had her knobbed, baseball bat-like club in her hands.

  Della and Denita rushed in, each taking down one of the deader wolves as the confused creatures turned to face this new stimulus. Juan could only watch in amazement. It had been sort of impressive to see his little seven-year-old girls take down a small pack of these horrors.

  “Bad dog!” Denita scolded as she dodged a gore-crusted maw that was just a heartbeat too slow to snap shut on its intended target of the girl’s ankle. It was rewarded with a smashing blow to the back of the head.

  Before he realized it, the little battle was over and his daughters turned with proud smiles plastered in their faces. Each was grinning so wide that Juan almost thought the tops of their heads would fall off if a sudden breeze were to whip up right about now.

  “You learned all of this from Gerald?” he asked once he was able to speak without sounding like he was absolutely furious.

  “Yes, Papi,” the girls crowed in unison.

  “Gerald said he was making us lean, mean fightin’ machines,” Denita added, her hands covering her mouth as she started to giggle.

  Juan had to admit that he was extremely impressed. What he’d just witnessed showed more skills than he’d observed in grown men; much less a pair of seven-year-old girls. His only hang-up came in the fact that it felt like the man had taught them the skills without teaching them anything remotely resembling caution. It was like teaching a child to shoot a gun, but then skipping the part about how they are holding a dangerous weapon and should not ever think of it as a toy.

  What he’d just seen from his daughters was a modern day version of a game; at least that is how they acted. He needed to put this right, but he wanted to do it in a way that would not have them reluctant to use their newly discovered talent. His mind easily went to a scenario where his scolding would leave them just standing there as a deader strolled up and took a bite out of one or both of his daughters.

  “Okay, I want you two to listen to me,” Juan said patting a spot to either side of where he sat, indicating with a nod that the girls come sit beside him. “I want to tell you both how proud I am of each of you. You did very well. However, I want to make it clear that this is not a game.”

  “But Gerald said—” Denita began.

  “I don’t care…” Juan snapped, then he reigned himself in and started over in a much calmer tone. “I don’t care what Gerald said. He isn’t your papi. I am telling you that this is serious stuff. You should be proud of what you can do, but the moment that you don’t take this serious, that is the moment that one of those deaders takes a bite out of you.”

  The two girls sat silent for as moment. Each of them kept looking at the other. Juan had that vibe like they were doing one of those creepy twin things from the movies where they were communicating telepathically or something. At last, Della broke her sister’s gaze and looked up at Juan with her large dark eyes.

  “Can I tell you one thing that Gerald said, Papi?” the girl asked innocently.

  With a sigh, Juan nodded his head in agreement. He noticed Della shoot a worried look at Denita before she spoke.

  “Gerald said that Denita didn’t need to be ascared of the deaders. That it was just like a game of tag. She didn’t want to play at first, but when he showed her how easy it was to win, she started to play.”

  “And he said I am very good at it,” Denita whispered.

  Juan was struck speechless. Apparently Gerald had learned a great deal about the girls while he’d been out of commission. He wanted to say something to refute the man’s claims, but then he saw how the man had turned Denita’s reluctance and closed off personality into something he could work with.

  “You are very good at it, hija,” Juan said softly, a smile on his face. “I was very proud of you both. But I want you to make me a promise.”

  The girls both scooted close, their heads tilted up at him expectantly. In that instant,
Juan saw every single detail of Mackenzie’s beauty in their little faces. He recalled how he had been ready to give up that day when his horse had fallen and he thought that the end was near. He made a quick vow to himself to do everything in his power to live a long life and be there for his girls.

  “I want you to promise that, if we are ever fighting deaders and I tell you to run, that you will do what I say.”

  “We promise.”

  ***

  Vix shimmied up to the first cross beam and then began the arduous climb up the power line tower. She was still climbing as the first crease of light began to show on the horizon to the east. From the looks of things, the clouds were breaking up and the day might actually yield some sunshine.

  When she finally reached a spot where she felt she could see just about any place that their attackers might have come from, Vix halted. She had been keeping her eyes on every single hand hold as she climbed. It would be just her luck that she would grab some rusted piece of metal and fall to her doom; or worse, become seriously injured and left to die a slow and miserable death.

  “You really need to find a rosier outlook on life, missy,” she muttered to herself as she began to scan the landscape.

  She discovered not one, but a pair of places, where the gray tendrils of smoke wafted up indicating that some sort of fire was burning. After making a point to locate a few solid landmarks that would lead her in and help to find both locations, Vix climbed back down. Despite her earlier self-talk about becoming a bit more optimistic, she still kept her eyes on what she was doing all the way to the ground.

  “Well?” Chaaya asked, her voice habitually returning to that whisper a person used when they were scared of being discovered.

  “Two possibilities,” Vix announced.

  She described everything in detail just in case they were separated for any unforeseen reason. They could either head west towards High Halstow, or they could turn east. Since they knew with a fair amount of certainty what they would find heading west, they opted for the signs of life to the east.

  It had looked much closer from up high. But once you added in hiking up and down every hill and dale, along with maintaining a high degree of caution in order to minimize their chances of being discovered if anybody might be out looking, it took them most of the morning to finally reach a spot where the smells of burning wood and roasting meat carried on the breeze.

  “Okay, here is how we do this.” Vix turned to Chaaya, bringing their journey to a momentary halt. “You are going to stay out of sight and keep your eyes and ears open. I’m going in alone.”

  “But that never works out well,” Chaaya insisted.

  “You’re right, but if we both go in, then there will be nobody to go back home and warn the others that there are some very hostile people out here. Also, you will need to tell them everything that Marjorie told us before this fuck-all of a mission began.”

  “Fuck-all?” Chaaya stifled a snort of laughter.

  “You have a better term?”

  The woman seemed to consider things for a moment. Vix had to admit, if she were the sort to find women attractive, Chaaya would be right up in her top ten. Lips pursed and brow furrowed as she thought, the woman was an absolute beauty.

  “I suppose not.”

  “Good,” Vix said with a sigh as she gave her machete a pat. “And now I guess there is nothing left to do but the doing.”

  “Are you seriously attempting to try out a new catch phrase or something? Because you are completely awful at it if I may be permitted to say.”

  After making a very deliberate and uncouth hand gesture and sticking out her tongue, Vix spun on her heel and started up the road. She covered less than a half of a mile—struggling mightily not to look over her shoulder just in case she was being watched—when a voice from her left called out, “Stop where you are.”

  Vix did as she was asked. As an added attempt to appear unthreatening, she put her hands in the air and then laced her fingers together and put them behind her head. A moment later, she heard somebody emerge from the heavy, dense grass to her left and right.

  “Let’s get down on our knees, shall we?” a voice asked with far too much joviality.

  “Great, another bloody Irishman,” Vix snorted just loud enough to be heard.

  “I think we can call the entire Catholics versus Protestants thing behind us now, don’t you, love?”

  A man stepped in front of Vix and she had to restrain her desire to actually laugh out loud. If she was being generous, she would guess the man to be perhaps a hand or so higher than a meter. His red hair was curly and jutting from under a small cap. He wore a waist coat that was belted and held secure with a large brass buckle. As far as she was concerned, all he lacked was a little pipe and some clogs.

  “Name’s Paddy.” The tiny man made a grand bow.

  “Of course it is,” Vix said with a straight face that was threatening to crumble into hysterics.

  “And this is my friend, Seamus O’ Hara.”

  The laugh that started to escape died on Vix’s lips as a mountain of a man that was as large as this Paddy was small stepped in front of her. He had the same hair, but his face was a mess of scars and his grinning mouth showed three remaining teeth at best. Dangling from the behemoth’s belt were three zombie heads; each one still had eyes darting back and forth. Their mouths were sewn shut with what looked like a piece of leather cord.

  “So, what brings a flower like yourself all the way out here by your lonesome?” Paddy asked.

  Vix considered her options. It took her a moment, but she decided to take an approach that most would probably shun out of hand in a situation like this: Vix told the truth.

  ***

  Chad felt his heart trying to escape his chest. The last time he’d been so overwhelmed with real fear had been months ago when he’d returned to find Ronni and Caroline to let them know that the Green Springs community might actually have real potential as a place for them to live.

  It was probably just a simple case of seeing a possible dream-come-true dangled before him and basically being prepared for something of greater or equal negative value having to take place. The women had been just on the other side of the ridge and were actually sitting on a massive boulder, having a heart-to-heart talk about how Ronni needed to try and understand that her dad would do anything to keep her safe and that the people they’d left behind seemed to harbor a real hatred for the immune.

  Green Springs had lived up to his hopes and brought out a deep happiness in his daughter that Chad had not seen in a long time. They had been accepted into the community with open arms. Chad had quickly earned his place as a member of the hunting detail. That had been his first step in earning a chance to join security.

  It was a measured process, and before long, Chad had been accepted by a team that handled mobile patrols. He was still not yet able to apply for mounted patrols, but he found that he enjoyed being out on foot every other day.

  At least that had been the case until today. He’d left for his sector just before sunrise after kissing his daughter on the forehead as she sat bent over her manual that she needed to complete to become a teacher in the grade school classes. Caroline was already at the bakery where she would no doubt be treating the house to some special pastry; one of her favorite perks of the job.

  It was just an hour or so into his patrol. He’d been tasked to the Barron Creek area on the west side of what the map said was Old Siskiyou Highway. It was little more than a two-lane road that was more weeds and grass coming up through the cracks than anything else.

  He was following one of the many game trails when he heard something. He knew the sound of a crier when he heard it. After so many years, it had become much easier to tell the difference between a real crying baby and the zombie sound. They were remarkably similar, but a crier could only make short bursts of the noise. If you waited, they would fade and then follow up with a moan, or even silence. Anybody who had any time with a re
al crying baby could tell you that they seldom quieted that quickly.

  This one had only lasted a few seconds, and Chad went to investigate. If it were one or just a few, he was given a green light to take them down. Large groups numbering over twenty were required to be reported if they were heading in the general direction of Green Springs, otherwise, it was best to simply let them go on their way.

  This group numbered in the hundreds. Not the largest he’d seen, but worthy of letting the people back at Green Springs know. Because there were so many, and they were on a direct track towards the walls, he was authorized to fire his flare gun. That would bring the mounted patrol in to handle things.

  Since he wanted to join this group, Chad decided to stay close. There was a rocky outcropping over the creek that he could climb up on that would allow him a pretty good view of the area. He had just reached it when he spied the ten person horse patrol approaching from the south. They were coming up a shallow ravine and would hit this herd from almost directly behind the main body.

  The riders apparently spotted the trailing elements and went into a wide formation; this put three riders up on each side of the gulley and four riding abreast down the middle. Chad was so intent on trying to watch the big picture that it took him a few seconds before he realized that one of the riders’ horses had started to veer away from the group. It was one of the three riding along the right side of the gulley as he faced them.

  When the rider slid sideways and then fell from the back of the horse, disappearing in the grass that was tall enough to brush the bellies of the horses, that was when Chad realized that there was a problem. In a flash, everything went bad. From both sides, arrows flew and the ten riders were being taken down before any of them had a chance to draw his or her flare gun and signal that there was trouble.

  Chad jumped to his feet and pulled his own. He jammed the parachute flare into the gun and aimed skyward. A sudden pain came from his leg. He looked down to see a wooden shaft jutting from his thigh.