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

by TW Brown

  “Because of that,” Kayla said, pulling me down into the brush.

  I followed her finger. We had started up a small hill and were in tall grass, bushes, and a few scraggly trees. Somebody would have to be actively searching for us to even have the slightest chance of spotting our position. This hill provided an excellent view of the ruins of La Grande, Island City to the northeast, and Suzi’s camp to the south. I could see our wave of zombies trudging onward in the direction of the encampment. It was obvious that they had spotted the zombie equivalent of a picnic. Noisemakers would be useless at this point.

  However, I also saw a group of about fifty people on horseback. They were emerging from the ruins of one of the other settlements that had supposedly been razed by Suzi’s army. Then I saw a group of riders emerge from the encampment. They had two people with them that were wearing dark hoods and had their hands tied behind their backs.

  I watched as the two groups approached each other. We were not exactly close enough to be able to overhear from this spot. If we moved to our right about a hundred yards or so, then we should have no problems. I motioned to Kayla and she shook her head. Now was not the time for her to be a pain in my ass.

  “I want to hear what this is all about,” I insisted.

  “Then you go. I will wait here.”

  I scowled at her, but if she wanted to miss whatever this was, that was her problem. Staying low, I moved through the grass with as much stealth as I could manage. It seemed to take forever, but I absolutely did not want to give away my location.

  As luck would have it, I reached my place and got situated a good few minutes before the two groups reached each other. When they stopped, I had to stifle a tiny gasp. I recognized one of the riders from the encampment. It was the guy who had first brought me to Suzi. I was pretty sure his name was Randy. He had belted me a good one and Suzi had sent him on Outrider duty or some such thing.

  I was only forced to wait for another moment to see who were under the hoods. I did not know the one woman, but I sure as hell recognized Suzi. If I was curious before, I was positively itching to know what the hell was going on now.

  “Took you guys long enough,” Randy said to one of the men as he yanked Suzi’s hood off.

  16

  Vignettes LXVI

  A tremendous roar echoed across the clearing where the cabin sat. Juan was frozen in place; too frightened to do much more than just await his impending doom. The grizzly rose up on its hind legs, and its mouth opened once more to let loose with another guttural roar that caused any of the remaining birds that might still be perched nearby to take flight in a rush of flapping wings.

  “So this is how I go out?” Juan actually found enough moisture in his mouth to allow him to laugh.

  He considered the machete at his belt and then recalled a few things that he’d heard about bears. One of the biggest (besides the whole ridiculous ploy of pretending to be dead to make the bear lose interest and walk away) was the fact that their skulls were incredibly thick. Even if he could get his feet under him enough to allow for a decent swing, he doubted his ability to cause enough damage to kill a grizzly bear.

  “Hey!” a voice barked.

  The bear wasn’t the only one to turn towards the sudden and new distraction. Juan was actually surprised that his eyes had been able to be pulled away from the giant bear. He was in a position that put the person who yelled with his back to the sun. That had cast all his features in darkness, but the outline gave away the identity.

  “Gerald!” Juan would have been embarrassed at any other time in his life to hear his voice crack and sound so weak and relieved, but his emotions were at the breaking point as despair collided with relief.

  The big man took a step forward and raised his hands over his head. “C’mon, you over-stuffed teddy bear,” the man hollered.

  The bear seemed to take a moment to consider its options. Juan was certain that he looked to be the most appealing of the two. After all, he was on his knees and basically defenseless. The bear turned towards Gerald and let its head fall back in another rumble of sound that Juan swore was deep enough to cause his insides to shift.

  The bear dropped to four feet and began to approach Gerald. For the briefest of moments, Juan had this idea where the man was going to ruffle the bear’s fur and scratch it behind the ears telling him he was a bad bear for scaring the nice Hispanic man.

  When the mountain of a man brought up a massive maul, that fantasy went out the window. Gerald seemed to wait until the last possible second before bringing the heavy steel weapon around in a tremendous swing. There was a solid sound like the head of the maul striking granite.

  “Son of a bitch!” Gerald yelped, his hands letting go of the weapon.

  Thankfully, the bear was, at the very least, seriously dazed. It staggered a step, but did not fall. It was equally fortunate that Gerald seemed to be the first to recover. He pulled a huge knife from his belt and came in from the side, driving it into the beast’s throat.

  Apparently the bear was made of stronger stuff. It rose up, although not quite managing to come to its full and massive height. Gerald managed to duck the first swipe with one of those vicious paws, but the follow-through of the second sent the man sprawling like he was a child’s plaything.

  Juan pulled himself to his feet. He glanced at Gerald who was busy trying to shake loose the cobwebs. Also, in the exchange, the man had lost his knife.

  “Hey, Winnie-the-Pooh,” Juan called, “I thought you were in the mood for Mexican food!”

  The bear did not seem to even notice the challenge and continued to lumber towards Gerald. Juan knew he couldn’t run, but if he did nothing, he was equally certain that the man who’d once again saved his life was going to be ripped apart. With nothing else handy, Juan hefted his crutch and threw it like a javelin; a very poorly designed javelin to be sure judging by the way the thing wobbled and spun as it flew through the air.

  By the time it reached its intended target, the crutch had turned almost sideways. It bounced off of the bear’s body and landed impotently on the ground. The bear paused and turned for the briefest of moments, but apparently it wanted to dish out a little get back to the man who’d caved in the side of its head and cut a gaping hole in its throat.

  It took another two steps toward Gerald and then started to rise up on its hind legs again. Sadly, for the bear at least, the massive blood loss along with the trauma to the brain finally proved to be more than the beast could withstand.

  With a low growl, the bear rocked and then fell forward in a graceless face-plant. There was a tremendous exhale, and then the grizzly was still.

  Both Juan and Gerald remained stock still for a few more seconds before each man let out his own exhale; theirs being ones of relief rather than a final death rattle. Gerald had managed to make it to his knees. He turned, and Juan could not help but wince. The man looked like he’d just gone the distance with the champ.

  He wanted to express his thanks and gratitude, however, what came out of his mouth was, “Have you seen my girls?”

  “No,” Gerald answered hesitantly.

  Just that quick, the relief of having been spared evaporated. Once more, Juan felt grief seep into every crack in his being.

  ***

  Vix sat around a roaring fire with one of the strangest groups of people she could ever recall having met. Besides Paddy and Seamus, there was Algernon, a bookish looking man who looked like he belonged at a library checkout counter instead of dripping from head to toe with a variety of blades that he was able to throw with amazing precision. He had milky white skin and wore his long red hair in a series of about a dozen braids. Next came Gable, the American. He was as black as Algernon was white and kept his coarse ebony hair in a topknot. At well over six feet tall, he was built a lot like Seamus, but his muscles were well defined instead of just hiding under a lot of bulk. Gable always smiled, but it was that sort of smile that you might expect on a shark. Last was Randi. The only w
oman of the group, and of obvious Middle Eastern descent, Vix doubted that was her real name.

  Randi had probably been a beauty once. The parts of her face not puckered and twisted from the horrible scars gave hints. She kept two cudgels on her hip, each tipped with a misshapen hunk of some sort of silvery metal. She did not talk. If she had something to say, she leaned over and whispered it to Gable who spoke on her behalf.

  As a bottle of something that felt like it was carving its way down her throat was passed around and the contents shared, there was singing and laughing. Vix almost forgot the entire reason for why she’d ventured away from home. Stories of a rising faction that apparently modeled itself after some twisted version of the already deplorable Nazi regime were almost forgotten.

  As more drinking continued and stories from the past were shared, this began to feel more like an old night out at a local pub. Sure, she hadn’t been sitting around with an American, a few Irishmen and a Middle Eastern woman, but then, maybe she should have tried it. She kept finding herself laughing at one tale or another like the one Seamus was just finishing.

  “…and there is Algernon in his birthday suit, running down the middle of the Westminster Bridge with a giant stuffed panda under one arm and one of those plastic Big Ben baubles that they used to sell to tourists, screaming at the top of his lungs the bloody Canadian National Anthem!”

  A roar of laughter followed and even the edges of Randi’s lips curled slightly. Chaaya had long since passed out after having a good sick that smelled like rotten apples and something yeasty.

  Vix sighed and wondered if these people would be able to help at all or if they had simply coaxed her into walking away from her people and leaving them to their fate. In her alcohol induced stupor, she could not recall anybody talking about this Dolph person and his little army.

  A half dozen rabbits were roasting over the fire, and every so often, somebody would go over and tear off a piece and flop down to eat. She had to admit, after the past couple of days, they smelled very appealing.

  “You gonna keep eyeing them bunnies, or are you gonna have yourself a leg?” a voice said from beside Vix.

  She had to concentrate to see only one, but eventually she was able to focus and recognize Paddy. He was no longer dressed in the outlandish garb and was instead in a brown jerkin and trousers made of some sort of animal skin. He wore hobnailed boots and studded gloves with wicked spikes across the knuckles.

  “Is this some sort of trick?” Vix slurred.

  She was having a terrible time staying upright. She would think everything was fine, and then she would discover that she had leaned over to the point where her head had dipped below Paddy’s. She recognized it had gone to an extreme when she realized that she was actually on her side with her head in the little man’s lap. He was looking down at her with a smile on his face that was perhaps the warmest and most genuine that she had seen in a long time.

  “You have a lot of pain bottled in your soul, lass,” the man said with amazing kindness and understanding. Vix briefly forgot that he was almost half her height…and Irish. “Maybe if you shared some of that, then some of the wounds can heal. Keeping all of that poison bottled inside is going to be the death of you.”

  At first, Vix had no idea what on earth the man could be talking about. She even tried to sit up, but after the world began to spin faster and apparently tilt sideways, she decided that there were worse places in the world than lying on this log with her head in Paddy’s lap.

  Then, the strangest thing began to happen. She started telling her story. She told of losing Ivor, her ill-fated plan to raid the museum display, and her up and down relationship with Gemma. She told about poor Harold and his terrible fate. Then she told of New England. Yet, as she shared that piece of the tale, she began to realize that she had isolated herself for the most part from the residents of the community. Sure, she helped those in need, but in all those years, she had not become close with one single soul.

  She told of her discovery in regards to Gemma and how she finally thought that she was bringing the girl home. When she recounted how the girl had simply thrown herself into the water and vanished from sight, the tears flowed. It had been, in her eyes, her greatest failure.

  At some point, Vix felt her eyes become heavy. She stopped being aware of her surroundings. She did not even notice that, at some point, Randi had taken one of her hands and was holding it, stroking it softly, patting it whenever Vix began to sob, unable to speak any longer as all the grief of more than a decade seeped from every pore.

  Vix eventually drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a time before. She dreamed of coming home to her cats and her husband. She dreamed of trivia night at the local pub.

  “Wake up, lass,” a voice whispered. “We have an army to stop.”

  ***

  The threat proved mostly impotent. A small band of seventy, that had no idea the size of the community that they had picked a fight with, fell in short order. Chad missed out on it with a severely sprained ankle and an arrow wound in his thigh. He also ended up with six stitches in his chin.

  Services were held for those who were lost the day of the attack. It was little consolation that not a single person was lost when they went out to deal with the potential threat. Even more anti-climactic, it was really only one of the five groups of forty riders that were sent to scout that happened upon the camp of the raiders.

  The fight was over almost before it began. The few personal effects of some of the fallen found and serving as the final damning evidence that these were the ones. Four prisoners were brought back that day and questioned with a veracity that ensured they had given up every bit of information (confirming that they were indeed just this single small band). After the interrogation, they were taken to the square and executed.

  Chad sat that out as well. It was not because he was against it, or had any reservations about such swift measures, he was simply not feeling well that day; most of his body was feeling the effects of his journey downstream.

  As the spring yielded to summer, Chad watched Ronni truly start to show happiness and contentment. He and Caroline became closer friends and were able to admit that romance would never be a factor, but that their friendship was stronger than any they thought possible.

  Chad was pulled from exterior patrol for the duration of his healing and rehabilitation. When winter came, it was the first that Chad could recall in a good long while where they were not even the slightest bit miserable or uncomfortable the entire season.

  Once he healed, he was asked if he wanted to return to patrol duty with the mounted division. He was surprised that he had no such desire. During his rehab, he came to the conclusion that his biggest reason for wanting to be involved was because he did not feel that anybody else could keep his daughter safe.

  When he was pronounced healthy, Chad was hit with the realization that everything was fine. Even more important, he and his daughter had begun to gel in a closer relationship. Going out was a needless endangerment. As it was, when he had first volunteered, he was the oldest on the roster by almost a decade.

  Taking a job as a field worker, Chad found the work hard but rewarding. Not to mention that he was in his bed every night and able to enjoy evening meals with Ronni who had been given her own classroom of second graders to teach.

  As the seasons once again passed, Chad began to hear about people going on honest-to-goodness vacations. The concept seemed absolutely foreign at first. When his supervisor called him over one day to tell him that he had accumulated a week’s worth, he had no idea what to say or do.

  That evening, he sat down to dinner with Ronni and Caroline. He told them and was surprised when Ronni began to gush about some cabins she’d heard about from another of the teachers. Apparently they sat on a lake and that people from this community and a neighboring one had come together and built a sturdy wall.

  After only a little convincing, Chad agreed that it might be fun. He could scarcely believe th
at he was willingly venturing outside the safety of the town walls. It was a simple act to arrange for him and Ronni to have the same period of time off.

  There was even a package that was put together by the general store with all of the supplies they would need. They were even provided horses for the one day journey that had three armed checkpoints along the way for them to stop.

  As he and Ronni rode out of the gates, Chad could not help but be swept up in the surreal feeling of going on vacation in a zombie apocalypse. The day was bright and sunny. Perfect in every way. It took Chad almost an hour to get over the idea that it would all come crashing down at any moment. He simply could not wrap his mind around what was something far too normal in a world overrun by the undead and dotted with bands of raiders and outlaws.

  They arrived at the gates to the cabin getaway a few hours before sunset and were greeted by an armed detachment at the main entrance. Letting his eyes scan the scene, he was amazed to discover that this location had a security detail that numbered higher than some of the communities he’d encountered over the years.

  “Is this real?” he asked the woman who accepted his voucher that was issued when he and Ronni had left that morning and stamped at each of the checkpoints along the way.

  “Between the two communities, we number close to five thousand now,” the woman said with a laugh. “This is actually a duty assignment for members of each communities’ army.”

  “You gotta have seniority to draw it, though,” a man called from his station at the gate house. “Took me five years to get here.”

  “Five?” another quipped. “I just hit my seventh year. One of the first enlistees at our camp. Who’d you blow to get this gig?”

  “Who’d you piss off?” another crowed.

  Chad and Ronni were directed to their cabin. The gates were closed at dusk, and the bell was rung at the dining hall signaling the evening meal. That evening, Chad sat across from his daughter, doing everything in his power to fight back the tears.