As The World Dies | Book 4 | After Siege

by Frater, Rhiannon

“No problem.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.

  Juan waved her through the door. “Okay, let’s go see what those fuckin’ zombies are up to. Nerit’s going to meet us out on the wall.”

  Strolling through the old City Hall building, Emma took a deep breath and rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans. When they reached the door to the outside, Juan skittered ahead of her to open the door. The sunlight poured through the exit, nearly blinding her.

  Pulling on her sunglasses, Emma stepped out into the Fort.

  2

  Welcome to Badassery

  The glare of the sun was blinding. The shadow cast by the hotel had moved away, leaving the busiest area of the Fort in direct sunlight. Juan tucked his cowboy hat onto his curls and gestured for Emma to follow him down the back steps of City Hall and into the heart of the complex.

  Strolling past the Fort occupants, Emma noted they were all ages, genders, and from different racial and ethnic backgrounds. The Fort clearly was a place for everyone as long as they were willing to get along and do some hard work. All looked exhausted and sweaty as they stood around in small groups watching Juan and Emma pass by.

  Dust stirred in a faint breeze and the smell of hard-working bodies was pungent. That hard work had come to a halt and everyone was eerily quiet. There was a smattering of hushed conversations, but the loudest noise was the wind blowing in through the gap in the hills to the east. It was a little unsettling until Emma observed the yellow flags erected over the sentry posts. On them was written SILENCE/SILENCIO. That explained the work shutdown.

  People were taking advantage of the time out to drink from frosty water bottles handed out by some teenagers dragging an ice chest on wheels.

  “What’s up, Dad?” a teenage boy whispered to Juan while handing him a bottle of water. He had messy brown hair that fell over his eyes and partially hid his freckled nose.

  “Zombies are causing trouble, Jason. We’re on our way to check it out,” Juan said in a voice so soft Emma could barely hear it.

  The boy’s gaze shifted to Emma. The intensity of the teenager’s stare made her feel like an interloper, and she resisted the urge to apologize for an offense she didn’t know she had committed.

  Jason nodded solemnly and moved on to the next group with two other teens following.

  Juan leaned over to say in her ear, “My oldest. Jason.”

  Jason appeared to be about fifteen. Juan looked like he was a little older than her in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. The math didn’t exactly add up unless Juan had been a really young father.

  Emma mouthed, Adopted?

  With a grin, Juan cracked the water bottle open. He took a swig, then leaned over again to answer, his breath frosty against her ear. “All my kids are adopted. All four of them.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  Emma’s approval of the Latino man climbed upward.

  A tall, striking older woman with silvery-blonde hair and fine lines on her tanned face emerged from the hotel entrance. She wore her jeans, cowboy boots, and a short-sleeved plaid cotton shirt over a black tank top like a uniform. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and there was a distinct military bearing to her stride. Emma noticed people straightened their spines and looked attentive the second she appeared. Motioning to Jason, the woman held one hand out. The teenager tossed her a water bottle. Barely glancing at it, she plucked it out of the air.

  Leaning over again, Juan said, “That’s Nerit.”

  The woman walking toward them exuded strength like no one Emma had ever met before. She suspected she’d experienced things that would shake most people.

  Keeping her tone low, Nerit addressed her. “Emma, welcome to the Fort. Rune told me you had arrived and what he said about your history was impressive. You’ll be a great asset to our community.”

  The accent Nerit spoke with sounded familiar, but Emma couldn’t place it.

  Emma was bewildered. “How does he know about me?”

  With a hint of a smile, Nerit replied, “He has inside information.”

  Emma gave Juan a questioning look. “The ghost thing?”

  “Yup. The ghost thing.”

  Juan had told her that Rune was a medium, a man who could see and speak to the dead. In a zombie-infested world, he would definitely have unique access to information most people wouldn’t have. Emma completely believed in ghosts. She was convinced one had told her to come to the Fort. She vividly remembered the beautiful woman with the long black hair and soulful dark eyes urging her not to kill herself, but live. Of course, the dream had occurred while Emma was drunk as a skunk, but the Fort did exist right where the woman said it would.

  Gesturing for Juan and Emma to follow, Nerit strode toward the collapsible stairs that led over the inner wall. Falling into step behind Juan, Emma shivered despite the heat. The eyes of the people of the Fort were trained on her, probably curious about her after hearing Rune’s stories. She fought the impulse to respond to the inquiring looks and explain that she was no one, just a young woman who killed all the zombies in her town while seeking to put her baby to rest. In this horrible new world, those actions couldn’t be too unusual, she surmised. Everyone surviving had to have similar stories.

  The wooden steps led to a platform encased in camouflage netting. Nerit slipped under the entrance flap with Juan at her heels. Emma took a second to observe the view of Main Street. The town blocks in either direction ended with a concrete wall. The street was dotted with piles of lumber, bags of soil and fertilizer. Groups of people were huddled in the shade alongside one building, taking a break. It appeared they’d been making planter boxes before the call to stop working.

  Emma stepped into the sentry outpost and the netting fell behind her.

  Two people stood with Nerit. One was a man with a reddish-brown complexion and indigenous Mexican features. The other was a redheaded white woman slathered in sunscreen to protect her freckled face and the bare bony shoulders sticking out of her army green tank top.

  Emma shrugged beneath her red top to alleviate some of the tension in her shoulders, the fabric clinging wetly to her skin. Tendrils of her chestnut brown hair stuck to her cheeks and she tucked them behind her ears to keep them out of the way.

  Keeping her voice at a low volume, Nerit said, “Enrique says we have runners. What’s the status, Katarina?”

  “I’ve spotted maybe a dozen runners down at the end of Second Street. They’re definitely hunting us, but haven’t spotted anyone living yet. They’re doing that jerky back and forth dance they do when they suspect the living are around, but can’t spot ‘em. Martin,” Katarina pointed to the man next to her, “has the lowdown on what happened when they first appeared.”

  If Nerit was scared or worried about the brewing, she didn’t show it.

  Emma was impressed.

  “Juan, ask Martin for details, please,” Nerit instructed.

  Juan turned to the shorter man and asked him a question in Spanish laced with a West Texan accent. It was a combination that Emma found amusing. The twang didn’t faze the shorter man, who nodded, and answered. Martin explained to Juan in Spanish what he’d witnessed on the far end of the Fort. Gesturing as he spoke, the construction worker was surprisingly calm considering he’d just eluded the undead. His white T-shirt was drenched with perspiration and he was covered in the ruddy dirt native to the area. Emma caught a few words here and there, but her high school Spanish had faded from memory soon after she graduated. She did capture the gist of what was being said. The zombies had appeared abruptly, sprinting at top speed toward the tracks.

  With a nod, Juan patted the man on the shoulder, then conveyed the story to Nerit. “His crew was clearing the traps and doing zombie body removal when they saw the runners coming out of the tree line.” Juan pointed to the nearby foothills that bordered the west side of town. “The zombies hit the tracks and headed straight for them. I don’t like it. Fresh dead means we missed survivors h
eading our way probably needing help.”

  Martin spoke up again. Emma picked up more than half of what he said this time, her old Spanish lessons sparking to life. The news sounded bad and Juan’s reaction was a confirmation.

  Visibly pale, he swore in Spanish then dismissed the other man.

  After Martin left, Nerit asked, “What is it? What’s wrong.”

  “This is bad, Nerit. Martin recognized the zombie that chased them to the ladder. He says it was Ed’s oldest, Eddie.”

  “Shit,” Katarina moaned.

  Emma felt distinctly out of place as this news rocked the people gathered around her.

  Nerit squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “It was Ed’s choice to leave. We couldn’t have made him or the others stay if we wanted to.”

  “Belinda,” Juan said, pain and grief infusing the name. “She went with them.”

  Recognizing that Emma was out of the loop, Nerit turned to her. Taking off her sunglasses, she revealed keen gray eyes with a hint of green at the center. “Before the horde came through, there was an incident where one of the main entrances was opened to let people inside. This was after the order had been given that we were locked in. No one in or out. Our lead hunter, Ed, was upset by this development. So were a few others. They banded together and demanded that they be given vehicles and weapons so they could take their lives into their own hands and not depend on the Fort for safety.”

  “Damn fool idea,” Katarina muttered.

  “They left here? This is a fortress. Literally. I can’t...” Emma faltered seeing Juan’s devastated expression.

  “In times of war, people make choices we may not always agree with. They decided to leave, and it looks like they ran into trouble,” Nerit said.

  “We need to send out a rescue team right away,” Juan said with great urgency. “We need to act now.”

  Katarina and Nerit glanced at each other with troubled expressions, but it was Nerit who spoke up.

  “If Eddie is a runner, chances are it won’t be a rescue.”

  Juan whipped off his cowboy hat and anxiously ran his fingers through his damp curls. “Nerit, we can’t know that until we see the runners and verify it’s Ed’s people. Even if some of the runners are from his group, that doesn’t mean there aren’t survivors of whatever shit went down out there. We have to make sure.”

  “After we deal with the runners and save our people, Juan.”

  The following stare down was one Emma already knew Juan was going to lose in spite of his desperation. In the short time she’d been around Nerit, it was abundantly obvious that she was respected and a strong leader.

  Juan was the first to break. He averted his eyes, tucked his hat back on his head, and resignedly asked, “So what do we do?”

  Katarina pulled out a tattered hand-drawn map of the fort, cleared some half-full water bottles from a folding tray, and spread it out on flat surface. “Maybe we should lift the order for quiet. Noise might draw the runners to the wall on our north side since that area is closest to where Martin’s people were when attacked. There aren’t any traps there, so we’ll have to shoot or spear ‘em.”

  Nerit studied Katarina’s map, her forehead furrowed with concentration. A thoughtful silence followed for a few seconds. “I don’t want to put our people in unnecessary danger. The sound of gunfire might pull zombies to our location. If we have any vestiges of the horde in the city limits, we have to be careful since we have so many teams outside the wall. That would complicate everything.”

  “So spears then,” Katarina said. “Pike them from above.”

  Juan shook his head. “Spears aren’t going to work on the northern wall. We built it higher because it’s on a hill, remember? We didn’t want the zombies bunching up at the base of the wall and building a ramp, so we added a few feet to the top. Spears won’t reach. Plus, we got two crews in that area. None of those buildings are secured and aren’t safe. We don’t want to put them in more danger.”

  Emma peeked at the map. There was a lot more to the Fort than she’d realized.

  “We can send out a pied piper,” Katarina suggested. “Pull the runners away from where we have our people hiding and lure the zombies out of town.”

  Nerit crossed her arms and wedged the knuckles of one hand under her chin, clearly giving Katarina’s recommendation some thought before answering. “I would say at any other time that might be viable, but the horde could have stragglers. Venturing close to the city limits could be deadly for anyone we send out that far.”

  “That fuckin’ zombie horde is screwin’ up everything,” Katarina groused.

  Nerit glanced at Juan. “What do you suggest?”

  “We got some defenses set up that weren’t triggered when the horde passed through. I say take the running zombies out with what we’ve already got rigged. That way we won’t use ammo and attract any stragglers in our direction.” Juan pointed to a spot on the map. “Right there is our best shot. That area was totally missed by the horde.”

  “The west end of Main Street,” Nerit said.

  “That’s where a lot of our traps are untouched by the horde. We have several fire and razor wire traps that weren’t tripped. They won’t make a lot of noise.”

  Katarina shuddered. “Only one zombie was dumb enough to go through there. Jason’s razor wire traps are brutal. She was legit in pieces.”

  Juan took off his cowboy hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. “My boy is thorough in his designs. We could eliminate quite a few of them-if not all-with the traps.”

  “Slower zombies are easier to deal with one on one,” Nerit said. “Since our best driver is on maternity leave, I’ll be the lure. Any suggestions on a vehicle, Katarina?”

  “Greta says that sweet Mustang the scavengers brought in a month ago is noisy and fast.”

  “Then I’ll take that one.”

  Juan nervously chuckled while tucking his hat back on his head. “Admit it, Nerit.”

  “Admit what?”

  “You’re a sniper, the equivalent of a stunt driver, a military strategist, and hard as nails. Basically, an all-around badass. You were Mossad, weren’t you?”

  Nerit tilted her head to regard Juan with a stare that sent chills down Emma’s spine. A second later a bright smile lit up Nerit’s face. “Don’t be silly, Juan. I was simply an IDF sharpshooter. I served like all the other Israelis do. Nothing more than that.”

  “Bull-fuckin’-shit,” Juan replied, shaking his head.

  Ignoring him, Nerit pivoted away. Emma automatically straightened as the imposing woman’s gaze settled on her.

  “Emma, are you ready for a first assignment?”

  “I’m ready and willing to do whatever,” Emma said.

  “In case something goes wrong and we have to resort to bullets, I’ll need people covering for me. Let’s see how good a shot you are if you’re needed. Katarina, take her to the West Main Street sentry post.”

  Nerit gave Emma a brief, warm smile, before focusing on Juan and becoming stoic again. “Juan, get the elevator ready. I’ll stop at the corner of Main Street and Elm and run for it.”

  “You know, someone else could do this, Nerit. You’re recovering from your illness.”

  “It’s fine, Juan. As you pointed out, I’m a badass.”

  “Don’t throw my words back at me, for fuck’s sake,” Juan grumbled. “Let someone else do this.”

  “Just do as I say, Juan.”

  Emma knew that tone from years of living with her grandparents. She gave Juan a furtive look to see how he’d respond.

  With a grunt, he bobbed his chin, relenting. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to.” Nerit departed by sliding under the netting, which had the finality of someone slamming a door shut.

  “Don’t worry. As you said. She’s a badass,” Katarina said, nudging Juan with her elbow. “Follow me, Emma. Let’s see what your badass rating is.”

  3

  Time to Kill Zombi
es

  Emma hurried along Main Street with Katarina toward the wall located down the block. The pretty red brick road was so scorching hot she could feel the heat radiating through the soles of her boots. Sweat trailed down her neck and back while the strap on her rifle dug into her sore shoulder. Discomfort was an old friend. Since the zombie rising, her body was constantly covered in bruises and scratches from her long days killing zombies. The only time she hadn’t experienced pain was when she chugged liquor and passed out in her Airstream.

  The vintage trailer was a far departure from the Fort. The old buildings lining the street were constructed from red brick with pretty decorative details like white pillars, decorative scrollwork, and hand-painted tile insets. It was easy to imagine the town bustling with activity during its heyday, but Emma doubted that time period had been in recent decades. Some of the structures were in good condition, while others looked like they’d been abandoned for a long time. In one store filled with gardening equipment, she caught a glimpse of people hunkered behind a counter peeking out at her.

  “Is it always this exciting?” Emma asked in a hushed voice.

  “Nah. Sometimes it’s so boring you wish something exciting would happen. Lately, though, it’s been one helluva rollercoaster ride. One where the cars go sailing off the track and leave you beat up something awful. Or dead.” The inflection in the redhead’s words revealed so much. It was the sound of loss and anger.

  “The horde coming through must have scared the shit out of everyone.”

  “That’s putting it lightly. But even before that happened we were dealing with a shit-ton of bad stuff. If we can handle what we’ve gone through in the last year, we can deal with anything that comes our way. I’m sure of that.”

  Boots pounding against the concrete, Emma jogged behind Katarina toward the concrete brick structure cutting off Main Street. It was about ten feet high. A sentry post was built flush against the wall and spanned the entire width of the street. The wooden structure appeared sturdy and several sentries were clustered behind one of the three olive-green hunting blinds erected on the platform.