Book Read Free

DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

Page 35

by Brown, TW


  “You can’t.” Dr. Zahn had my arm in a grip much tighter than I would have expected. Without being aware of it, I’d stood up, but Dr. Zahn was right…there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

  I brought the rifle up once more and sighted through the scope. A couple of the closest zombies had been able to swipe uselessly at the passing truck. One had managed to snag or grab ahold and was being dragged. Melissa was quick to bring the hatchet she’d been keeping on a loop hanging from her belt into play.

  “It’s working,” Dr. Zahn said.

  I’d been so busy watching Melissa that I hadn’t thought to see if the decoy was having the desired effect. Sure enough, the horde was moving as one giant, cancerous organism. A solid wall of outstretched arms and gaping mouths were now intent on the juicy tidbit in the back of the truck. For just a moment I heard the voice of Yosemite Sam in my head exclaim, “Zombies is so-o stupid!”

  In a twisted version of a dead-tide they were coming. Melissa was smart enough to be looking in every direction instead of simply focusing on one. She saw a trio of zombies, all child-sized, moving for her at an angle that would put them directly in the truck’s path. For whatever reason, they were out distancing the main horde. Bringing up the shotgun, she fired directly at their chests, effectively knocking them back. She then switched to the pistol and started dropping the closest threats.

  “It’s gonna be close,” Dr. Zahn said.

  I took a look at the big picture. I’d been going into some serious tunnel vision. Until now, I had not really tried to see the whole scene. The truck was at the halfway point. The zombie-mob was a huge bulge, thickest in the center. However, it would be dicey on whether or not the truck would make it to the other end. As I watched, my spirits buoyed just a bit. The zombies had no concept of angle-of-pursuit.

  “Here comes Randi!” Dr. Zahn pointed. The Hummer came fast, a trail of dust in its wake.

  More shots came from the general direction Jamie and Barry had gone. For some stupid reason, I’d decided to risk the people I know to save complete strangers. Perhaps Barry had been the voice of reason the whole time—except when it came to Thalia, then he was out of line.

  “Steve!” Dr. Zahn’s voice cut through the chaos in my mind. Was this what it had been like for Randall Smith and Sergeant Wimmer each and every day?

  “Huh?”

  “One of those things is making it into the truck!” Dr. Zahn pointed.

  Sure enough, Melissa was busy reloading the shotgun while still taking time to smash a zombie in the face with the pistol grip. She was frantic, I could tell. I saw her drop a few shells she had been holding while trying to keep the undead from piling over the side into her truck-bed bastion. Bringing up my rifle, I sighted in on the one pulling itself up onto the rear bumper where it would simply tumble forward over the tailgate. The shot was on target, the zombie, a mostly naked woman wearing either a very dark or blood-stained bra, slumped and fell back onto the track. Melissa never even glanced that direction. Considering how loud the moans of the dead were even from this far away, I doubt she heard it.

  “She’s there! Randi’s in position!” Dr. Zahn actually applauded.

  I saw movement as the survivors from the roof came down a ladder bolted to the outside of the warehouse. They were moving so fast that one of their members lost his or her grip and plummeted at least twenty feet. I didn’t see anybody stop to help, and had to assume that person to be dead. I switched my attention back to Melissa as she opened up with the shotgun again. I had to admit that I was a touch surprised at how quickly she pumped rounds into the chamber and blasted one or more depending on how tightly bunched the zombies were to one another. The truck was clear of the main body. In about a hundred yards or so, it would make a slight bend to the right. I couldn’t help but smile as she jumped up and down in a cute little victory dance.

  As the truck disappeared behind a stretch of linked railcars, Melissa searched and found us. She waved, I could see the smile on her face, and imagine I still would’ve even if I wasn’t watching her through my scope.

  An explosion well off to the left of where Barry and Jamie had disappeared snapped my attention back to the here and now. A large ball of flame-accented black smoke roiled skyward from behind a row of four- and five-story offices. Had any of those windows still contained glass, they would’ve exploded. More dark, oily smoke poured through a swathe of those empty window sockets. It looked sinister, the way the inky blackness sort of poured from the holes and cascaded down the façade of the buildings and pooled at the bottom before creeping forward and into the street that ran parallel to the front of the complex.

  “We should—” I started to rise, leaning in the direction of the rising cloud.

  “We will be getting into the vehicle,” Dr. Zahn cut me off. “Randi is heading this way now.”

  “But Jamie and Barry,” I protested.

  “Have their assignment and instructions. They’ll do what they have to and reach their pick-up spot.”

  “Something’s gone wrong.” I pointed. Didn’t she see the big black cloud rising over there? I know for a fact that neither of them were carrying explosives. Even worse, a huge slice of the mob that had been after Melissa and the truck had done an about-face and were now headed to investigate this new sound.

  “And they’ll deal with whatever that may be,” Dr. Zahn said as she grabbed my arm in that particularly tight grip again. I heard the part she didn’t say just as clearly, or they’ll die.

  Once again I was trying to figure out how I’d become the designated honcho. I’d laid out this plan and nobody had pointed out any of the flaws. Even the best plans have flaws. Why hadn’t anybody called out mine?

  “Here comes Randi,” Dr. Zahn announced with another tug on my arm, leading me out from behind our railcar.

  The Hummer pulled up with a crowd of unfamiliar, not to mention unhealthy looking, faces. Could it be that we really had been living that well? Looking at the scared, exhausted, or vacant faces packed into the vehicle reminded me of the day that we’d arrived at Serenity Base. Dr. Zahn had said something about how well our group seemed to have fared.

  Randi reached across and opened the front passenger’s side door. The smell that rolled out hit me. Before I could get a grip, I’d visibly and audibly gagged. None of them seemed to notice. Every single one of them looked—

  “Shock,” Dr. Zahn whispered and moved past me to climb in.

  “What blew up?” Randi asked. There was no masking the concern in her voice or on her face.

  “No idea.” I climbed in, pulling the door closed. A pack of twenty or thirty walking dead were closing in. Another slice of the main group had peeled off and followed Randi. Also, I could see more coming this way from the direction of what was now growing into a decent sized fire from the direction we’d last seen Jamie and Barry.

  Randi accelerated, sending dust and gravel flying at the approaching zombies. None of them seemed to notice. We raced down a mostly deserted street, and as we closed in on the first four-way intersection, I felt us slow.

  “The route is straight until we reach that water tower,” Dr. Zahn said. She glanced at me and I knew she was expecting support here.

  “Randi…” I paused. It was clear that she knew her husband was somehow tied to that explosion and growing fire. “There is a maze of industrial buildings over there. We have no way of being certain of the route they took. Barry knows the rally point. We need to be there waiting for him and Jamie when they show up.”

  We’d rolled to a stop in the intersection. Randi Jenkins turned to face me. I saw tears starting to roll down her cheeks. The survivors packed into the car sat silent. I glanced over my left shoulder into that big back seat area. None of them looked like they were even aware we were there. I hadn’t noticed at first, but they were all clinging to one another.

  A hand slapped the window directly behind my head instantly changing the atmosphere inside the vehicle. I jumped. The sudden surprise had
startled me, but the people in the back went into an absolute panic. Suddenly there were screams, shrieks, and crying.

  Randi didn’t need to be prompted any further and floored it. The sudden force caused a couple of the people in back to fall on the large open floor back there which only raised their wailing to another level. We were reaching the tee-intersection at the end of this long two-lane road, and I knew we would be taking the left turn fast enough to likely spill a few more of our passengers onto the floor.

  “Hold on!” I yelled.

  We power slid, our ass end coming around easy. Like magic, we seemed to straighten out relatively smoothly and take off for the road that would take us on a winding path up into the hills.

  “Nice,” I commented.

  “Cars,” Randi said with a smile.

  “Huh?” I didn’t get it.

  “The Disney move, Cars.”

  “What about it?” I wasn’t any clearer as to what her point was.

  “The scene where the old car teaches the flashy red one how to corner on a dirt track.”

  “Ka-chow!” a tiny voice from in back hooted.

  “That’s right, baby.” Randi glanced up in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  I didn’t have any kids. I guess you had to have children to understand. But whatever it was that taught Randi to accelerate through the corner like that was okay by me. I looked in back for the source of the tiny voice and took the first actual headcount of the folks we’d just rescued: four women, three men, one child—a boy about six or seven, not much older than Thalia.

  “We’ve got Melissa and she’s fine,” the radio came to life.

  I grabbed the headset and keyed the mic. “That is excellent news!” I made no attempt to mask how glad I was. “We are en route to the rally point with eight survivors. Any sign of Barry or Jamie yet, Teresa?”

  “Saw two figures running through the smoke, but the cloud got thicker and we lost ‘em,” came the reply. I noticed Randi’s grip tighten on the steering wheel.

  “Well,” I touched Randi’s arm, trying to provide a small measure of comfort, “keep your eyes open and have everybody scanning for them. We stay put until we are absolutely certain one way or the other.”

  “Okee-Dokee,” Teresa answered.

  The rest of the ride was in silence. When we reached the turn off, I could see Teresa had already arrived. Everybody was present except Jamie and Barry.

  Dr. Zahn climbed out and helped everybody from the Hummer with assistance from Dave. Teresa, Melissa, and Aaron only turned and waved to acknowledge us, then went back to scanning with their binoculars.

  “Is anybody bit or scratched?” I heard Dr. Zahn ask as I walked over to the waist-high stone wall that was intended to let people look into the valley below while protecting them from tumbling down the hill.

  “Got something!” Aaron crowed. “Left of that large red brick building.”

  “See ‘em!” Melissa and Teresa chimed almost simultaneously.

  Randi ran to the trio. Aaron handed his binoculars to her and pointed. I actually saw the tension leave her shoulders.

  “That’s my Barry!” she laughed. “What in heaven above is that man doin’?”

  “Haulin’ ass on a motorcycle,” Melissa answered with a hint of laughter in her voice.

  “He’s gonna break his fool neck!” Randi snapped. Now that it was clear her husband was safe from zombies or explosions, she had a new thing to worry and fret over.

  “I imagine that sidecar keeps him stable,” Teresa chuckled.

  “Not if he don’t slow his ass down on the corners,” Randi snapped.

  “Steve?” It was Dr. Zahn.

  “What’s up? I turned, and the smile I’d allowed myself to have melted away at the look on her face.

  “One of ‘em’s bit,” Dave hissed. Dr. Zahn shot him a withering glance—I now know what one actually looks like—and he dropped his head and stepped back.

  I looked at the doctor. She nodded and I felt a new sensation of nausea. What was I supposed to do? It’s not like we loaded out the “toxic cocktail” used back in Serenity Base to put down whoever we had in our midst that got bit.

  “It’s the child,” Dr. Zahn said, making my really unpleasant situation instantly and exponentially worse.

  “This is gonna sound stupid,” I couldn’t even look her in the eye when I asked, “but are you sure?”

  “I wish I could say otherwise, but I’m positive.”

  Shit. I kept that particular sentiment to myself.

  “It’s Barry!”

  “It’s Jamie!”

  Teresa and Randi both exclaimed simultaneously. I turned and had no trouble spotting a motorcycle with the attached sidecar dart down a back street obviously attempting to give the slip to a few hundred pursuing corpses. They were doing all the right things—driving with no discernible pattern, doubling back on themselves, not taking any sort of direct route to our location.

  Finally, they vanished behind some trees, but it was obvious that they were now heading for the road that would lead to us. Several minutes later, Randi and Teresa were bounding towards their men in a huggy, kissy, tearful, joyous reunion. Everybody had made it back intact. Plus…we had some new faces.

  Unfortunately, it was not over. We had the issue of the infected child to deal with. I looked over at our new arrivals. They were huddled close, each of them clinging to at least one other member of their group. The child was sandwiched between two women and looked the least worn out and frightened. Most of the real fear was on the faces of the adults. Looking just a bit closer, I realized something else, the child was the least malnourished in appearance. My guess was that the adults had done everything possible to care for the child, which included favoring him when it came to rationing food.

  A surge of anger and sorrow hit me hard and sudden. They’d done everything including deprive themselves of food—and most likely water—to preserve that child’s life. And for what? They’d been rescued, and the child would not live to see the next sunrise.

  “What do you want to do?” Dr. Zahn interrupted my daydreaming.

  “Huh?” I blinked my eyes a few times and bit down on the inside of my mouth. The tears were there, but now wasn’t the time. “Well, I guess you and I should talk to them and figure out who we’ll need to tell.”

  “You’re not gonna…” Dave’s voice trailed off as he turned and looked in the direction of the tiny group of survivors.

  “And what would you suggest?” Dr. Zahn said in a tight, clipped voice.

  “But, Francis—” Dave started to protest.

  “There’s nothing to debate here, David,” Dr. Zahn cut him off.

  Francis? All this time I’d never known her first name. As far as I was concerned, it was Doctor. I guess you learn something new every day.

  “It’s a child.” Dave wasn’t trying to keep back his tears.

  “How ‘bout we keep it down,” I said, stepping between them. People were no longer interested in the happy reunions of Barry and Randi, Teresa and Jamie. We were now becoming center stage.

  One of the women detached herself from the group and walked across the open dirt and gravel strewn parking area towards me, Dave, and Dr. Zahn. Great, I thought, I’ve got about twenty seconds to decide how I’ll be handling this.

  4

  Vignettes VIII

  Peter duck-walked down the row of armored vehicles. In the four days he’d been inside the relative safety of the armory, he’d put down a half-dozen of those things. He’d seen hundreds pass by, sometimes a single one pathetically stumbling along, sometimes a group ranging from a handful to a hundred would pass.

  Thus far, he’d made it a point to stay low and hidden from view. He just wanted his luck to hold for two more days at the most as far as this place was concerned. That was how long it should take to finish loading up the APC.

  For the first time in his life, Peter King was glad he’d spent his summers growing up working on his uncle�
�s farm. This wasn’t some small plot of land with a two-bit garden. This was a few thousand acres—actually one of the smaller in the area when it came to the commercial corn growers.

  Every summer he went to Iowa. His mom and dad felt it was important—not only for him, but all six of the King children, Betty included. Walter and Francis King wanted their children to understand what a real day’s work felt like. Peter had learned how to drive an industrial tractor by the time he was twelve.

  His second day inside the armory, Peter had checked out the assortment of vehicles. He’d settled on the APC because it had plenty of storage space for food, weapons, ammo, and fuel. That last one was the greatest concern. He’d filled ten ten-gallon containers and rigged what he considered to be a clever device for later. He’d fixed a one-inch spike to the head of a rubber mallet. One solid shot would open a perfect hole in a vehicle’s gas tank. A deep canister would be slid into place. Once it filled, he had a large funnel that he could use to refill his gas cans. Spillage and waste was not really an issue. Speed was the real key, especially if his status of being completely alone remained in effect.

  Peter froze. There was that sound again. The baby cry. The first time he’d heard it, had almost cost him. He’d been in one of the office units, going room to room. The offices had been a bust when it came to actual supplies. However, they had been a treasure trove of inventory lists, key lockers, and a place to sleep at night out of the weather. He’d been in the long, narrow hallway, listening at a door for any sounds of movement. Hearing nothing at this particular door, he’d turned the knob when the shrill cry of a baby sounded from behind the door at his back.

  Peter spun, rushing to the rescue of the abandoned child. Throwing open the door, he was suddenly face to face with a grizzled older man in fatigues. The stench of death rolled off it, but the eyes had already told Peter that this was no man…not anymore. The white film shot with black lines numbered him among the infected. That, and the ugly bite that had ripped away the left ear. Blood, dried and black, stained the side of the head, the neck, and the collar of the fatigues. A name was stitched on a perfectly centered rectangle above the left breast pocket: Locket.

 

‹ Prev