by Chris Lowry
Z everywhere.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry Dad,” the Boy hiccupped next to me and buried his head in his arms.
They bounced and moaned off the outside of the fence.
They stumbled and shuffled inside, aimless wandering under a searing mid-day sun.
Hard to tell who was what from this distance.
Hard to tell if any were her.
“Go. Back to the bus,” I told him and listened as he crunched through the underbrush on his way back to where we parked.
I reached into the small pack next to me and began laying out ammunition.
I loaded the rifle, set the stock to my shoulder and aimed.
Then I began shooting.
Single shots. Headshots. Z’s on the left. Z’s to the right. Z’s down the middle.
I shot as my eyes blurred.
Shot as they turned toward the noise and began to herd.
Kept shooting as more and more fell.
Shot until there were no bullets left.
They were almost on me then, the Z that I hadn’t killed.
We had a rule. Don’t engage the Z up close. Too easy to get bit. Too easy to die.
That’s why we built pikes. Nine foot poles to keep enough room from the walking dead to make an escape if needed.
I sent up a quick wish for one and pulled a pistol from my belt as I jumped up.
Fifteen rounds in the clip.
Fifteen Z flopped lifeless to the ground.
And still more came.
I didn’t hear the others reach me. I heard their shots whiz past.
The echoes of the tiny explosions bouncing off the trees.
An orchestra of destruction, laying waste to the Z herd.
Then it was over and I turned around.
I don’t think I got the tears off fast enough.
The Boy hit me, wrapped up in a hug and buried his face next to Bem as she grabbed me from the other side.
The others followed, each reaching out to touch me. A hand on the shoulder, a grip on my forearm.
I knew there was an animal inside me. A beast in my belly I called it. The rage.
It burned, went supernova and eclipsed everything I had felt the entire journey.
I leaned back my head and cursed God with a roar.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was Brian’s idea.
I wanted to search the bodies. He said we should clean them up, burn them.
“I want to get rid of all the Z,” he said. “We’re leaving the dead bodies to rot and there’s no telling what kind of damage we’re doing. We need to burn them.”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“We’ll help,” Anna offered.
But we needed to set up camp and decide what to do next, so I sent them back.
Brian refused to go.
He grabbed a body, dragged it to a pile with two others after I searched their faces for anything I recognized.
Nothing.
Tyler returned with a can of gas and passed it to us without a word.
Brian set the bodies on fire, and we worked through the dead.
“How many of these are yours?” he asked. “I mean, how many did you kill before we got here?”
“I don’t know.”
"You're pretty good at it."
I shrugged.
"Lots of practice, lately."
"Did you do it before?"
I shook my head.
"It's not like something you would think you'd need, you know. Shooting dead people who aren't really dead."
"Tough to prep for that in school."
He snorted.
"Yeah, I read a book before that said it takes ten thousand hours to master something, and I thought, who has that kind of time. Now, there's nothing but."
"In between the hunting, and fishing and trying to survive."
"There is that. But you didn't spend ten thousand hours learning to shoot?"
“I know what you’re doing,” I said.
“You’re smart enough to figure it out,” he shot back. “Answer the question.”
Another shrug as I tried to think about it.
"I grew up with guns. Most country boys do. We get a .22 rifle with the bottle in the South. So maybe I had it that much if you add it all up."
"My parents were pacifists," he said by way of excuse.
"Mine too. Dad was a war hating hippie. Mom was a peacenik. But my Papaw was a poor dirt farmer and raised my brother and I with what he thought were good skills."
Brian nodded toward the dead bodies lying in front of the gate.
"Pretty good skills."
"But now we have to clean it up."
He followed me down the road, our feet crunching in the gravel as we trekked toward the fallen zombies.
The stench hit us first, a sickly sweet malaise of rotting flesh and spilled gore. Like a run over skunk baking in a noonday sun.
He gagged first.
I just didn't want a leg to slick off in my hands when I reached down to drag it back to the pile.
"You think if people spent those ten thousand hours practicing kindness the world would be different?"
It was tough to understand him through the dry heaves, but I got his point.
"That's a campfire question," I told him.
"We need a couple of cold beers to ponder the possibilities of a better world."
The leg didn't come off, though the shoes were squishy with unnamed juices.
It's just dew, I told myself. Walked through a puddle, stood in a creek.
I was going to wash my hands for ten thousand hours after this.
Brian let me drag the first body back and return.
"A million people," he retched. "Doing one act of kindness each day. You think that kind of thing would resonate with the universe. Maybe we should be practicing that."
I pondered it as another zombie let me have his leg in a wet pop.
I adjusted my grip onto the frayed and tattered pants and pulled harder.
Lucky for me, they weighed practically nothing.
Just skin over bones, ripped and flayed flesh, and a virus that made them walking dead.
We stacked the bodies in the fire and kept going back for more.
I froze.
Brian saw me and glanced around, dropping the arms of the dead he was hauling.
He reached for his gun.
I pointed.
“It’s a sign,” he said. “What does it mean?”
“Get the kids.”
He stared at me for a moment but the look on my face must have given him pause.
He ran toward the bus and five minutes later, ran back with Bem and the Boy.
They stopped next to me and stared. Bem couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes.
“It couldn’t be,” said the Boy.
“What does NSB mean?” asked Brian.
“New Smyrna Beach,” Bem sobbed. “Our beach.”
The letters were spray painted black on a piece of plywood nailed to a tree, the script blocky and tight.
Tiny drips of paint drizzled down the wood from the initials to touch on a big bold DAD sprayed on the bottom.
“NSB DAD,” said the Boy. “She is smarter than the average bear.”
I threw my arms around their shoulders and drew them in, zombie pyres forgotten.
“I’m reading it right?”
They nodded.
I couldn’t stand up and fell to my knees. No tears this time. No wails or yells.
Just gratitude.
I wanted a sign. I begged for a sign, something to let me know she was alive.
Sometimes the universe gives you exactly what you ask for.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Everyone pitched in to finish burning the bodies.
We made short work of it, until just Brian and I were left.
The others went back to the bus to prepare for our departure.
If we were going to clean up
and reboot the world, we'd need to get rid of a lot of corpses.
Maybe ten thousand hours of fires.
Brian worked next to me, perhaps afraid I’d run off toward our new destination without telling anyone.
A mad race down the Eastern seaboard toward a place he knew was crawling with Z.
“It’s a kindness for the ones who come here after us,” said Brian.
"I don't know if we can be kind anymore," I said to him. "Look at the people who are left. Look at the world around us. There's no place for kindness."
He stopped and stared at the woods surrounding us.
I paused after a couple more steps and watched him.
The sun peeked over the treetops, still early enough to be considered morning and burning off a layer of clouds that made the day an explosion of reds, purples and oranges.
Brian closed his eyes and let the sun wash over his face, just breathing.
I could hear the insects buzzing, the birds waking in the trees.
The warming air on the skin of my arms, and a breeze tickling the hair around my ears.
"Alright smart ass," I called back to him. "I get it."
He opened his eyes and locked in on mine but didn't move.
"Do you though? This. This is what we're trying to save."
I could hear the murmur of conversation from our camp beside the bus, the tittering laugh of my son and daughter as they teased each other, Tyler and Karen snickering with them.
I looked in their direction and saw Byron hug Hannah from behind as they watched the coffee boil on the fire.
It was just one place clean now. There were probably a hundred more Z in the woods meandering in this direction, attracted by the bullets, by the smoke, by the butterflies they saw winging by.
This crisis was over.
I knew another one was coming.
Not sure when, but it was out there.
It had to be.
But Brian was right.
"This isn't what we're trying to save," I told him as he stepped up next to me. "But it's close. We're getting there."
"One act of kindness at a time," he told me. “Sometimes you have to set it up so people can be kind to you."
I punched him in the shoulder and sent him stumbling a few feet ahead.
"All clear?" the Boy called out as we got closer.
"For now,” I answered.
"Let's mount up," he said.
I looked at Brian.
"We've got time," I said. "Let's enjoy the coffee first."
It wasn't much as far as kindness went.
But it was a moment.
And that simple act got me the first cup.
What happens next? Find out in EVERGLADES ZOMBIE
The next adventure in Battlefield Z
Thanks for joining the adventure-
Did you know the World of Z expanded in Flyover Zombie? Grab it and Headshots to get ready for book 3 in the spin off series in 2 weeks.
OVERLAND ZOMBIE
Get Ready
Have you joined the adventure?
AUTHOR NOTE:
I want to thank you for grabbing this copy of Renegade Z, book 8 in the Battlefield Z series.
A lot of you have reached out to me about where it’s going and what’s happening next, and I am so grateful to hear from you.
You will want to try FLYOVER ZOMBIE, HEADSHOTS and OVERLAND, because the two worlds will merge in LONE STAR ZOMBIE and continue west for 3 more books after that.
If you like the Dad in BZ, you would probably love LT in the BEACHHEAD series. (It’s invading aliens sci fi, but more post apocalyptic than outer space pew pew) There are 6 books out in that series if you want to check it out.
This past year has been amazing and 2018 is going to be great. I hope you keep enjoying the books as much as I like writing them.
I really do appreciate you being here.
Chris
More Works by the Author
Lunar Hustle- Prequel to The Dipole Shield
The Dipole Shield - The Dipole Series
Planet 9 - The Dipole Series
Phalanx - Invasion Earth
Pyrrhic - Invasion Earth
Beachhead - Invasion Earth
Bridgehead - Invasion Earth
Lodgement – Invasion Earth
Ultima Thule – Invasion Earth
Infiltrate – Invasion Earth
Dustoff – Invasion Earth
Moon Men
Epoch - The Future Templar
Eon- The Future Templar
Era - The Future Templar
Super Secret Space Mission
The Herd Shot Round the World
High Steaks
Battlefield Z
Children's Brigade
Sweet Home Zombie
Zombie Blues Highway
Mardi Gras Zombie
Bluegrass Zombie
Outcast Zombie
Renegade Zombie
Flyover Zombie - the Battlefield Z series
Headshots - the Battlefield Z series
Overland Zombie
Conscripted - the Shadowboxer files
Mission One - the Shadowboxer files
Shadowboxer - the Shadowboxer files
Decreed - the Shadowboxer files
Suspect - the Shadowboxer files
True Nature – the Shadowboxer files
Nazi Nukes - a Shadowboxer story
Witchmas - a Marshal of Magic story
Witchmas Eve - a Marshal of Magic story
The Holy War – Blood Bound
The Holy War – Oath Bound
The Holy War – Honor Bound
Fort Smith I
Fort Smith II
Fort Smith III
Fort Smith IV
Fort Smith V
Fort Smith VI
Evasion - Destruction Earth
Battlefield Z Collected Adventures Volume I
Battlefield Z Collected Adventures Volume II
Invasion Earth Collected Adventures Volume I
Invasion Earth Collected Adventures Volume II
Sanctioned – Shadowboxer Files
Unsanctioned – Shadowboxer Files
Incursion
Mobilize
