Dead South Rising (Book 1)

by Sean Robert Lang

  Pressing to his feet, David said, “Sounds great.”

  * * *

  Outside, the two men stood behind the wrought iron fence like two prisoners contemplating the vast freedom just beyond. David propped his foot on the bottom bar running horizontally along the fence, and grasped a vertical bar with his good hand.

  The sun was strangely dull, floating like a big rubber kickball that got stuck sailing through the heavy air, never falling back to earth. And it didn’t hurt his eyes to look directly at it. It hung low, painting the landscape with a rusty hue and long dark shadows. Insects made percussive noises in the crunchy sun-fried grass, and occasionally a grasshopper would launch into a veering, arcing glide, only to disappear again. And oddly, there was no stench of death on the air.

  “How long have you been holed up here?” David asked.

  “Since before this whole godforsaken mess started.” The Janitor took a step back, let his chin drop, and spit a wad of chewing tobacco between his outstretched arms, then wiped his chin against his jumpsuit sleeve. “Was part of the prep crew, getting the facilities ready for fall. I stayed behind when most everyone else lit out, trying to get to their families and to the big cities.” He slitted his eyes against the descending sun, though he didn’t need to.

  “Why’d you stay?”

  “No one to get to.”

  David chanced it. “Wife? Kids?”

  “Gone and gone.”

  David wasn’t sure what constituted the Janitor’s definition of ‘gone,’ so he left it at that.

  “Besides,” the Janitor said, “my real family was here. Most of ‘em came over from the old building.” He turned his head, looked straight at David. “We’ve got a good thing here, Dave. Everyone gets along, does their part. Nobody causes problems. People here are good people.”

  Staring out over the town, David barely nodded.

  The old man continued, getting down to brass tacks. “You’re welcome to stay, you and your family. We’ve got the room … the resources, and it’s safe. We watch out for each other. Take care of each other. All we ask is that you reciprocate. Not take advantage or cause problems. Would hate to ask Lenny the Lumberjack to chop down any disagreeable trees.” He smiled, his mustache dropping over his top lip like a stage curtain.

  “Of course,” David said, then locked eyes with the old man. “I just want a place where Bryan can safely be a kid. Not have to deal directly with what’s going on out there. At least not for a while.”

  “Well make no mistake, we’re not completely immune to what’s going on out there. And it’s a tough call. Do we shield our children from the truth, or do we hit them over the head with it? Maybe somewhere in the middle? I’m torn on that, Dave. I really am. But I think you’re right. Let ‘em be kids for as long as possible, while they still can. God knows how long this death plague will last.”

  “So you think this is the long haul? End of days and all that?”

  “I do. And I think that’s why so many people got sick and died. They didn’t believe, thought it was just like any other disease that came and went. Only this one came and didn’t go. Hasn’t.” He spit. “Won’t. Better hunker down, ‘cuz this ain’t going away any time soon. I guarantee you that.”

  “Yesterday was the first day I killed one,” David admitted.

  “I know.”

  David wondered if the guy didn’t ride brooms instead of sweeping with them. “You do?”

  The Janitor nodded. “It does something to a fella, changes ‘em. These are strange times, Dave. The epidemic spread so quickly because people didn’t accept it, didn’t think it was possible. Or real. Treated the dead like they were just sick, thinking they’d get better. Couldn’t bring themselves to murder someone. It’s not easy to kill, not if you’re right in the head, anyway. But let’s face it. It ain’t murder if they’re already dead.”

  “So you saw it for what it was right away?”

  “Took me a few days, struggled with it a bit myself, but I caught on quick. Seen it happen right before my eyes, in town. Sort of a wrong place, right time kinda thing.” The Janitor lifted his head. “Not everyone here’s on board with the truth, though. Not yet. Still have a sect here who believe it’s just sickness. Our only real source of contention here. Thankfully, it’s a small group that hasn’t accepted the truth. So, keep that in mind. Some folks are a touch sensitive about the whole thing, understandably.”

  David’s eyes roved the landscape as he nodded. “Is it always this quiet here?”

  The Janitor shook his head, then dripped another glistening brown wad over his lips. “No. Usually a few of ‘em roaming the field or fence line at any given time. For the most part, we leave them be, and they eventually move on. Usually. But any that pose a threat, hang around too long, we take them out. Quietly.” He dipped his chin at the pistol on David’s waist. “For emergency use only.”

  “Smart. Noise attracts them.”

  “Yes it does.”

  “So, do I just call you Janitor, or do you prefer to be addressed by Gabriel or Gabe or …?”

  “Just call me Janitor. Everyone else does. Keeps me humble. Reminds me where I came from, keeps me grounded.”

  “Okay.”

  “And just so you know, I didn’t ask for this.”

  “None of us did.”

  “No, I didn’t ask to be the leader. It just kind of happened … naturally.” He shifted his feet, both arms still outstretched, hands clutching the bars. His head was bowed, eyes focused on the ground and avoiding the staring sun. “I’m sure you understand what I’m getting at.”

  David nodded, then realized the man had not looked up. “Sure.”

  “Leonard told me that Randy calls you El Jefe.”

  “I didn’t ask to be.”

  “Good. It’s one thing for a man to step up and be the leader people need him to be. It’s another thing entirely for a man to impose his despotic will on others. I suspect you’re the former, and not the latter.”

  David couldn’t tell if the Janitor was making a statement or asking a question.

  Rhetorical. So keep your mouth shut.

  The Janitor turned his head to David, locking a squinty eye on him again before motioning to the firearm on the younger man’s hip. “May I?”

  With his good hand, David tugged awkwardly at the pistol, then presented it to the old man.

  The Janitor looked on it admirably. “Walther P38. German military handgun.” He shot David another look. “Beautiful weapon.”

  A wave of guilt washed over David.

  If you’re thinking it’s some sort of omen, old man, just stop. Stop right there. I’m no Hitler. I did what I had to do. Don’t judge me. Don’t you dare judge—

  Turning the gun and reading the engraving on the slide, the Janitor added, “El Jefe.” He chuckled lightly. “A German weapon in America with a Mexican title that shoots bullets made in China no doubt.” He smiled. “A virtual melting pot in my hands.” He held the weapon to David, and David took it, sliding it back into the holster.

  Uneasy, David switched subjects again. “How many live here?”

  “Twenty-six. Thirty and a half if y’all decide to stay.”

  David started to ask, then realized the Janitor was referring to Bryan’s puppy, Charlie. “I can’t speak for Randy or Jessica, but I’m sure they would be ecstatic about staying.”

  “Glad to hear it. Lenny’s got a sense about him. Can tell about people. Told me he got a good feeling about most of you.”

  David stiffened. “Most of us?”

  “We’re straight shooters here, Dave. Lenny says you got demons. Nothing you can’t overcome, but demons none-the-less.”

  David put on a perplexed face, but he was sure the Janitor could see right through it.

  The old man said, “I see ‘em, too. But they ain’t nothing you can’t beat.” Another smokeless wad launched over his lips. “Living here, with our support … I think you’ll be just fine.”

  David
breathed deep. And all at once, he understood what he had to do, what he needed to do, if he was going to be the man he wanted to be. For Jessica. For Bryan. And he’d do it tomorrow.

  The Janitor said, “We’ll meet tomorrow, at ten. This ain’t exactly a democracy, but we’ve got a little council that discusses game plans and what not. Assigns duties, like watch duty, cleaning, food collecting, and other chores. We’ll talk about rules, the few that we have.” Another stubborn wad of chew sprung over his lips, and he wiped his mouth in the crook of his arm. “Seems to be working well so far. Like I said, we have a good group, good chemistry. People willing to pull together.”

  “Well, we appreciate your hospitality and your willingness to take us in. To trust us.”

  The Janitor nodded, squinting an eye at him, and held out his hand. David took it into his, shook, then they started back toward the door with lazy steps.

  “Like fishing?” the Janitor asked.

  David hesitated. No. “Sure.”

  “Got a pond just beyond the tree line out back. Some good sized bass in there.”

  David shuddered, his stomach twisting as déjà vu kicked him square in the jaw.

  Chapter 22

  To get through the night, David had swallowed a sleeping pill. His mind wouldn’t shut down, wouldn’t shut up. So many things to think about, loose ends to tie up. Or rather, cauterize. The initial meeting with the Janitor had gone well, for the most part, but he wanted to prove to the old man that he could conquer his own demons without an exorcism intervention.

  First step of his twelve-step program: don’t be late for the ten o’clock council meeting. And that meant getting a good night’s sleep.

  Dear god don’t be late.

  He finished buttoning up his shirt, then wrapped his gun belt around his waist. The Janitor hadn’t told him he couldn’t carry it, so he would unless otherwise directed.

  Those eyes. David had felt exposed, unable to hide, physically or emotionally, from the Janitor. The old man appeared all-knowing, all-feeling. Omnipresent. Ubiquitous.

  But it went beyond those piercing pupils. They were just the tip of the spiritual spear. The Janitor had sliced into his conscience and subconscious by barely digging at all. Hell, the conversation had centered on the old man and this place, David saying very little, if anything, about himself. Yet, the old man had him and his demons pegged. David was sure Lenny had enlightened the Janitor, reported his impressions. Janitor had admitted as much. That would help explain away some of that mind-reading mumbo-jumbo business.

  He had no sooner clasped his belt and turned his mind to refreshing thoughts of redemption when a sharp rap at the door startled him.

  “Yes—come in.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Lenny said. “Janitor needs us pronto.”

  David glimpsed the clock on the wall. 9:40A.M. He wasn’t late by a long shot.

  “Sure.”

  He expected Lenny to leave, to give him just a moment, but the strapping mass of man held his ground, unmoving, waiting.

  David said, “Conference room, right?” He really wanted a second to himself, to put on his mental armor, poise himself. Get his mind right and off of things he needn’t be thinking about, lest the Janitor read his mind.

  Lenny shook his head. “No. Follow me.”

  David’s brows dropped along with the corners of his mouth. Something was up. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of.

  “Everything okay?”

  Lenny started out the door, then stopped, one massive hand high on the doorjamb. “Be better if you saw.”

  David’s left hand fell to the butt of his pistol, squeezing it, and he followed Leonard into the hall.

  They walked without a word, past the administrator’s office and conference room, rounded the corner, headed for the front doors. As soon as the entrance came into view, David understood the urgency. And why a council meeting could wait.

  They had to bulldoze through several rubberneckers blocking their way, which Leonard was built for. After parting the sea of onlookers, they passed through two sets of tinted glass doors, and onto the sidewalk that led to the front gate. Near the fence, the Janitor and six other men huddled. One of the men waved his arms frantically, animatedly, his voice mirroring his movements. He was trying to get a point across, one that the Janitor didn’t seem to agree with.

  David pinched his nostrils, the smell smacking him like a dodgeball to the nose.

  Where did they all come from?

  Even though the Janitor’s back was to the front doors, he sensed the two men approaching, and he turned to greet them. “Leonard. Dave.” He waved an upturned palm toward the fence. “Seems we woke up to a bit of a pest problem this morning.”

  David looked left, then right. Shufflers. All along the fence. Couldn’t even see the street. It was like an organized protest of the living, minus the picket signs.

  “What the hell?” David said. He continued squeezing the Walther’s handle.

  “Was as quiet as a church mouse last night,” the Janitor said. “Not a one in sight. Not sure what brung ‘em all out this morning. Or where they were hiding yesterday.”

  David swayed slightly, his stomach doing a twirl. For him, it was like a slithering pit of putrid snakes all around them. The hissing. The snarls. Groans and moans. The sheer nastiness choking every bit of life out the air. And he understood now why Leonard had referred to them as rattlers.

  He quickly realized that the man who was so animated wasn’t being disagreeable, he was trying to be heard over the ruckus and racket. Over the distraction of death.

  “I still think—” said the animated fellow, getting cranked up again.

  The Janitor held up a palm, his chin dipping. “Now hold on, Roy. I’ve heard your opinion. More than once already.” He turned back to David. “This man’s got some experience with a herd. I’d like to hear his take.”

  Like a group of obedient hounds, the men fell silent, all giving David full attention. Some crossed their arms, others slid their hands into their pockets.

  David’s breathing became hard, laborious. His ears itched. He wanted to go back inside and away from this nightmare that obviously wasn’t going away anytime soon. He feared he was staring at the future, that he’d kidded himself about this place.

  And for a moment, he felt naïve, fooled. He’d honestly believed that the dead would leave them alone here. That Bryan would have the chance to ease into the way things were now. To meet the world not head on, or be sheltered from it, but to gradually dip his toes in, get used to the water.

  And he believed that maybe, just maybe, he and his ‘new’ family would—

  “So what do you think, El Jefe?” the Janitor said, one eye squinting, mustache twitching.

  David glanced around again, shutting down his wandering mind to focus on the problem. He really wanted to impress this man, to show that he belonged here.

  “Are they surrounding the entire building?” David asked, though a quick stroll and cursory glance could answer the question.

  Most of the men nodded and the short one named Roy said, “Completely surrounded.” He motioned to the front gate. “Highest concentration on the front side here. Probably because we’re out here, dangling in front of them like a carrot on a stick.”

  David tapped his cheek. “You want to take them out quick?”

  “That’d be ideal,” Roy said, “but we’ve got limited ammo and it’s too risky trying to stab them all individually through the fence. They can reach through. It’d be different if it was chain-link.”

  Another man piped up, “The fence is strong, but it won’t hold with the constant pressure of bodies up against it all day and night. Wasn’t built for that. Eventually, a section will fail, and they’ll break through. We’ll be trapped in the Alamo.”

  Someone else said, “Shooting just bring more of ‘em, anyway.”

  David said, “Then the sooner we act, the better. That soil compactor in the field out
back, does it still run?”

  Roy said, “The road roller?”

  Another man said, “The thing that looks like a big-ass knobbed rolling pin?”

  “Yes,” David said to both.

  The Janitor smiled, his mustache spreading wide above his lip. “They used it up to the day things went south, so I’d be willing to bet it does.”

  “Then I say we flatten out every last one of them,” David said. He almost couldn’t believe the suggestion he was making. It was bold, daring, and way out of character. Especially considering he’d just managed to kill his first undead being yesterday. But if he was going to be a part of this place, make a go of it, then he’d hold no punches.

  “Do you think that will work?” one of the men asked.

  “Yeah, won’t they just clog the thing up?” another said.

  “Ain’t there a bulldozer, too? Could maybe use that.”

  “What about the rattlers getting in the cab with you?”

  “The cab on the roller is a closed cab, I think.”

  “Oh.”

  “The bulldozer?”

  “I don’t know. We could go see.”

  The Janitor spoke. “Y’all stay here. Me and Dave will mosey ‘round back, check it out. Don’t wanna draw ‘em all to the back. Keep making them think supper’s up here.”

  A round of nods went through the small group as David and the Janitor broke away, murmurs of ok, alright, sounds good, good idea, all fading into the snarls and hisses.

  The Janitor pulled Lenny to the side. “Make sure everyone stays put, okay?”

  “You gots it, Janitor.”

  The old man patted Lenny on the shoulder, then started away with David beside him.

  “A fine idea, Dave.”

  A swell of pride rushed through David’s otherwise twisted insides. You hear that, Dad? Fine idea I had. Fine fucking idea. “Thanks.”

  As they turned the corner of the building, David asked, “So are the keys in it or do we have to hot-wire the thing?” He was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t even thought about that before suggesting the idea.