Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  “We have to take this entire town back, not just this place, and we need more people. A lot more.”

  “I know. I just really don’t want to go back out there. Not yet.”

  Calvin’s screams stomped through Paul’s mind, stepping on his appetite. He needed to eat but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Out of respect for Calvin, he would wait just a little bit longer. Laughter burst from the kitchen again, drawing Paul’s eyes to the hallway. He couldn’t see them but could imagine the smiles pulling into their faces and it wasn’t right. But it was like that now. Here today, gone tomorrow. Short memories were for the best in this world but Paul couldn’t shake those screams. Not yet.

  “I think we should leave while their numbers are down. If we wait much longer, more will come. We need to build an army faster than they can.”

  She held his eyes for a long moment, turning something over in her head. “How’d you get so good at this?”

  “Bad luck, I guess.”

  Stephanie leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “If it weren’t for bad luck…”

  “I’d have no luck at all,” he breathed back, staring into her eyes.

  Her lips pressed against his, catching him off guard and sending sparks streaking across his field of vision. She smelled like shampoo and tasted like cherries. Her tongue was even warmer than her hand and Paul almost forgot everything that had happened since he shot a pregnant corpse in his dining room. Almost forgot where he was. When they broke for air, he saw something in Stephanie’s eyes he thought he’d never see again.

  Hope.

  When he noticed Wendy standing in the doorway, he traded an embarrassed look with Stephanie and hid from Wendy’s angry eyes. Stephanie leaned back and crossed her legs, swinging a combat boot through the air and nervously toying with her new haircut.

  Wendy stormed off down the hallway, her sneakers slapping against the hardwood. The slam of the bathroom door at the end of the hall made them jump.

  Paul cringed and straightened his black t-shirt, licking Stephanie’s cherry gloss from his lips and wanting to taste her again. In his mind, he saw Wendy pulling her gun from the corpse that bit into Rebecca and it made him grimace. He would have to have another coming-to-Jesus-party with her and soon. They needed her shot but if she wouldn’t take it when the time was right, Stephanie could be the next to fall and if that happened…

  “Do women always throw themselves at you like this?”

  He turned to Stephanie and swallowed hard, sweat sprouting across his brow, the room buzzing around him. “Yes.”

  Biting back a flirtatious smile, she swatted his leg. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Paul blew out a long breath and sank lower into the loveseat, watching a stripe of sunlight inch closer to his feet. “You should be. I hate it when NFL cheerleaders put the moves on me like that. It’s so cliché.”

  “Former NFL cheerleader.” The fireplace tugged at her morose gaze and she grew quiet, the logs popping and sparking. “I can’t stop thinking about Calvin.”

  “Me neither.”

  “That was so horrible.”

  “They did that on purpose.” Paul grimly shook his head. “They’re fucking with us; trying to cripple our drive.”

  “That can’t be possible. They’re skin and bones.”

  “Have you ever seen them take their sweet time with someone like that before?”

  Her gaze fell to the fingers she was twisting in her lap. “I know it’s selfish to say, but I also can’t stop thinking about how it could be me tomorrow. I can’t even imagine what that would feel like.”

  “It won’t be you,” he replied, anger building behind his eyes. Calvin should still be here and it pissed him off because they couldn’t afford to lose a single person. Not now. Not ever.

  “You don’t know that.” She sighed, embarrassment painting her cheeks. “Normally, I’m not so forward with men but this world has…”

  He took her hand and squeezed it, forcing a smile. “Trust me, I get it.” That margarita night aboard Wavy Gravy whisked into his stream of thoughts. The swimming. The dancing. The laughing. It seemed like ten years ago when Wendy kissed him on the boat and the ensuing guilt had nearly crushed him. His eyes fell to his hand covering Stephanie’s, accelerating his pulse. But this was different. Time had watered-down his grief and that frightened him. Wendy was right. It was too soon to get tangled up with another woman and the last thing he wanted was to forget his wife. He didn’t want to be with anyone else and couldn’t wait to see her again. But Stephanie had a point, each day could be their last. The odds were stacked against them and things moved fast in this world and if you didn’t keep up…

  “Why do you think we all saw Dan this time, and not just you?”

  His eyes rose to find her staring back. Pulling his hand away, he locked his fingers behind his head and turned to the fireplace while Olive sang some children’s song about monkeys in her bedroom down the hall. “They’re trapped.”

  “Trapped?”

  “They can’t rest until we restore the balance. It’s about all of us, not just me.”

  “They?” She rested an arm along the back of the short couch. “You mean the people taken by the infection?”

  Barely nodding, he kicked his bloodstained Adidas out into the stripe of sunlight and tried not to think about how many people that might really be. If the last few weeks were any indication, it was astronomical because there was hardly anyone left and this was going to be an uphill battle for the rest of their wretched lives. The damage inflicted was massive, nearly catastrophic, and only their great-grandchildren would begin to see the fruits of their labor in the way of some passing breaks in the clouds. They were doing this for them. All of them.

  “Where are they?” Stephanie asked coldly, studying his profile while he blurred the flames into skittish yellow streaks. “The ones who’re trapped.”

  He turned to face her, sleep already pulling on his eyelids and it wasn’t even noon yet. “I don’t know.”

  “Will they help us?”

  Calvin flickered through his mind and it was like staring into the sun. “I hope so.”

  Exhaling a forlorn breath, she ran a hand over the back of her short hair. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” She paused. “So where do we start?”

  Paul turned back to the fire and let it jump in his eyes. There was no need to hit up the local police station for weapons and ammo. They had all they could carry and he wondered how long it would last. For now, however, they needed people. Soldiers. Warriors. This army had to start snowballing right out of Leadville or else the undead would run rampant, devouring whatever was left to take. “We start with the closest place where survivors could be hiding.”

  Her eyebrows dipped a little. “And where’s that?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAY TWENTY-NINE

  Siphoning gas was never a gimme. With his assault rifle clutched in both hands and the sun peeking over the eastern horizon, Paul watched Brian stick a short hose into the tank of an abandoned F-150 at a McDonald’s on the way out of Leadville. If there wasn’t much left in the Ford, they’d hit the CUV parked next to a new looking Fed-Ex truck across the way. And if push came to shove, they’d go to the 4Runner with a roof-mounted cargo box and small U-Haul trailer hooked to the hitch. Traveling with two vehicles would require twice as much fuel and double the time it would take to get it, especially with the cracked pump on the siphon. With any luck, they’d reach their target destination within the next forty-five minutes and their numbers would stop falling with the gas needle.

  “Can you order me a fish sandwich and a chocolate shake?” Brian said over his shoulder before sucking on the tube and spitting gas to the pavement. “Hold the whipped cream and cherry though,” he said, jamming the tube into an empty gas can and spitting again. “Trying to watch my figure.”

  Sunshine glinted off Paul’s aviator shades as he turned from Brian to the glass front doors p
ainted in golden arches. There were sixteen thousand decaying McDonald’s outlets in the United States alone, and all of them reminded him of just one. The one across the street from a gas station in northern Missouri where his rookie moves cost Carla’s entire family everything. He’d nearly come full circle and that dark day would always live on in his mind. The impact with the deer. The flutter of a pheasant’s wings. The bang of the restroom door against the wall. He would never outrun it and that was his punishment for being sloppy. That one was on him and he would never let it happen again.

  A car door opened and he spun on his heels, grimacing when he saw Wendy hop out of the Escalade and slam the door shut behind her. Slowly lowering his weapon, Paul released a pent-up breath and rolled his eyes behind his shades. Brian gave him an odd look and turned back to the siphon as Wendy stopped in front of Paul and folded her arms across her chest.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  Paul bit his lip, the pink gun riding her leg silently stirring his aggravation. Wendy thought she would simply replace Sophia and they would live happily-ever-after. But she was sadly mistaken. She could never replace Sophia. No one could. “It’s really not that big a deal. It’s just for a little while. Okay?”

  “I always ride with you!”

  “Not today you don’t.”

  Her blue eyes pressed into arctic slits against the golden light, blond hair blowing wildly in the wind. “Paul,” she said, “how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

  “Can you just get back in the car, please?” he asked, watching Brian pull the tube from the F-150 way too early. Paul groaned, knowing they’d have to hit the CUV now and this could take all fucking day.

  “Do you love her?”

  His shades snapped back to Wendy, brow creasing.

  She glanced at Stephanie sitting shotgun in the Suburban.

  “Jesus Christ, Wendy, I just met her. Okay?”

  “That’s why I was so shocked to catch you kissing her yesterday.” Her lips pressed into a thin grim line, arms tightening around her jacket. “If you want me to stay out of the way, just tell me and I will. I’m a big girl and can take it.”

  His lips pulled back into a ghastly perversion of amusement. “I want you to stay out of the way.”

  Her face hardened. “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “That’s all you had to say.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She stood there glaring at him as Brian packed up and started for the CUV. “Say no more, Paul.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it, Wendy.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “You men are all alike. You’re just primates who use people until you get bored with them and move on to something shiny and new.”

  A heated sigh pried itself from his lips because this was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. They were less than an hour away from a major sweep and he needed to be on point or someone would get killed. Paul was far from a battle-hardened soldier, used to staring death in the eye. But then again, no amount of training could prepare someone for this. This was unlike any war that came before it and, in the end, there were two options: Sit around and talk about it. Or go out and get after it.

  “You know what? I miss the old Paul.”

  “Will you just shut the fuck up and get back in the goddamn car?” he shouted, drawing a look from Brian as he popped the gas cap on the CUV. Movement in Paul’s peripheral drew his eyes to a thin man in a shredded suit and tie shambling around the small bank next door. “Company,” he yelled, pulling the M4 into his shoulder and taking aim. Wendy gasped when the dead started pouring from the McDonald’s like the place was on fire. She drew the pink nine and by the time everyone jumped from the Suburban and Escalade, the corpses were closing fast.

  Gunfire started going off around Paul’s head as the group unloaded a hail of bullets and, in his mind, everything slowed to a crawl. He had time to fire pinpoint accurate headshots. Had time to think about how the dead must’ve been hiding in the kitchen because when he took a quick look inside the lobby before Brian hooked the siphon to the F-150 the place looked empty. The majority of the dead customers came at a quick clip. They were overweight and, in hindsight, McDonald’s might not have been the best place to stop for gas. The M4 jackhammered against Paul’s shoulder as he mowed them down. The ones in front hit the pavement and the fat ones behind swiftly picked up the slack, hurdling fallen corpses and charging with morbid battle cries bursting from their wide open mouths.

  Paul squeezed the trigger on a short guy in a Slipknot hoodie and baggy black pants. Swinging the barrel to a woman in mom jeans and an oversized sweater, he realized this was going to be closer than he thought. The assault rifle pounded his shoulder and she crumpled at his feet. The doors slid back on the Fed-Ex truck and more stiffs stumbled out into the sun splashed lot. They swarmed the group of survivors with their arms out and death moans wafting from their split lips. “Shit!” Paul widened his stance, trying to draw a bead on a fat man in overalls racing closer with thundering strides. He put two rounds in him and jumped to the side. The man smashed into the Suburban, leaving a dent in the quarter panel, and slid to the ground. Turning, Paul barely saw Wendy elbow Stephanie into the arms of a skinny old man wearing khakis and a red sweater with a striking resemblance to a decomposing Mr. Rodgers. The dead thing snatched Stephanie’s right hand with an angry growl and she screamed when he bit down into her wrist.

  “Stephanie!” Paul raced closer. She shoved Mr. Rodgers back with just enough force to give Paul room to blow his hollow moans out the side of his head. Helping to steady her on her feet, his heart raced so fast it left him dizzy and gasping for air. “Are you okay? Did he get you?”

  She stared at the slobber coating her wrist, holding her arm like it was broken and flexing her fingers. “He didn’t break the skin,” she panted.

  His gaze fell to a pair of dentures lying on the ground between them and a calming breath left his lips. Turning a harsh scowl Wendy’s direction, he set his jaw but she was too busy killing stragglers to notice. Stephanie and Paul quickly rejoined the battle and, after dispatching the rancid mob with way more ammunition than any of them wanted to spend, he grabbed Wendy’s arm when she tried to get back inside the Escalade. He spun her around hard. Her hand dropped to the pink gun strapped to her leg but he beat her to it.

  Pointing Sophia’s gun at her face, he clenched his teeth, drawing alarmed looks from the others who missed her little nudge.

  “Paul, don’t!”

  At that moment, his rage was so high the only thing keeping him from killing Wendy with his dead wife’s handgun was the sound of Stephanie’s voice cutting through the fog. “She tried to kill you, Stephanie!” he replied, glaring at Wendy.

  He could feel Stephanie grasping at words just beyond reach as they struggled to catch their breath.

  “She what?” Curtis panted, coming closer with the M4 clutched in both hands.

  Paul nodded to Mr. Rodgers, who was lying in the parking lot a few feet away with his legs folded beneath him. “She pushed Stephanie into that old guy in the red sweater!”

  Curtis followed his eyes, face warping.

  “What?” Wendy gasped, throwing her hands over her heart in feigned horror. “No, I didn’t!”

  “I saw you, Wendy!”

  She backed against the Escalade, the color draining from her face. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Paul!”

  Curtis turned to his sister, cocking his head to one side. “Is that true?” Stephanie’s eyes bounced to Wendy and landed on Paul. Hanging her head, she replied with a shallow nod that told Curtis everything he needed to know. He looked back to Wendy, anger flaring in his eyes. “Why would you do that?” he shouted, aiming the weapon at her face.

  “I didn’t! I fell into her by accident.” Her watery eyes went to Paul, quietly pleading for his understanding.

  Curtis followed her stare. “What? Because of him?” he said, gesturing with the gun barrel. “
You think my sister is going to steal him from you? Is that it?!”

  Paul lowered Sophia’s gun. “I was never hers to begin with.”

  Things got quiet as everyone took each other in with bloody bodies painting the parking lot around their feet. No one spoke and the only thing to move was an American flag proudly flapping in the wind at the bank, defying the evil that brought everything else to its knees. Anxious pairs of eyes shifted between Wendy and Paul.

  “Paul, I tripped and fell into her. That’s all. I swear it!”

  Without taking his eyes from her, he spoke to the others out the corner of his mouth. “Get the gas, Brian! Curtis you cover him!”

  Wendy rolled her eyes and tried getting back inside the Escalade but Paul stopped her and slowly shook her head. Her face folded. So she tried getting inside the Suburban and he stopped her again.

  “Not that one either.”

  Her jaw came unhinged, the wind tugging harder at her hair. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

  He didn’t respond, wishing Brian would hurry the fuck up with the gas already.

  Blinking a tear out, her voice fell to a shaky whisper. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to leave me here?”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t end you after what you did to Rebecca. And now this? I can’t trust you anymore and if I can’t trust you...”

  “Paul, please!” She turned on the waterworks to bolster her case which only pissed him off more. It was an act, like when she used to take her clothes off for money and make every John inside Dancers think she was madly in love with them and only them. “Don’t you do this. Not to us!”

  “There is no us, Wendy! I’ve told you that a hundred times but you don’t listen.”

  She turned to Stephanie and softened her voice. “Can you please talk to him? Please?”

  Stephanie’s thin eyes slid to Paul. She opened her mouth, silently recalling what happened to Rebecca. Quietly ruminating on what just happened to her in this very parking lot. Shutting her mouth and pulling the M4 over her head, she got back inside the Suburban, slamming the door shut behind her without a single word.