DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

by Brown, TW

The sun was marching towards the middle of the sky and I could feel a few trickles of sweat start to carve rivulets down my skin. Twice, our scouts diverted us from a cluster of regular zombies; but at last we reached the spot on the map that indicated we were on our last leg of the journey. No advance scouts from this point. We would stay together and act as a team.

  Glancing at the watch, it was still a good forty minutes away from the straight up hour of noon. We were on the backside of the thoroughly cleaned out National Guard Armory, just on the edge of the overgrown fields that were once the home of the Eastern Oregon University Mountaineers baseball, football, and track teams.

  We steered clear of the tall grass and took refuge in what turned out to be a huge forestry center building. I guess some folks must have tried to make a stand here. There were signs that the place had been barricaded at one point, but the huge windows were simply too much to try and cover from the looks of it. Sheets of plywood had exploded in and the dark stains on the floors and walls along with a few dried husks of partially savaged human bodies, with everything from neat holes to huge missing chunks in the head, told how it ended for whoever had been here.

  “What do we do now?” a voice whispered.

  I brought everybody in close so they could see the map. “We are right here.” I pointed to a spot on the map and traced a line directly across the street. “Bernie Park is here. Since we have a little bit of time, I thought that I would give you all a moment to be with your thoughts, whatever you need to do, because in ten minutes we slip out of here and into position. I really hope we get through this without any casualties to our side, but I think we all know that the possibility exists. So if you have a particular belief, or you just want to get into whatever frame of mind you will need to be in, now is the time.”

  I was not sure what would actually happen. I guess I was a little surprised when everybody sort of peeled off. A few clustered into a small group, and I could hear the soft murmurs of prayer. I went to the main entrance and looked out across this little debris strewn slice of what had once been a fairly typical small town. I wondered if there really would be a day when kids would ride bicycles down the street, or if the ball fields would ever again buzz with a crowd of expectant fans cheering for one team or the other. Could we ever return to anything close to normal again? I guess the bigger question is whether we would want to…there was something to be said for this giant reset button.

  Glancing up, I saw my crew all converging on where I stood. They had done what they needed to do. It was now time to execute our plan and hope for the best. As I stepped back outside into the sunlight, I had a quick flash of a fantasy. Maybe this would be where they put my statue. Perhaps this was where the battle to win La Grande would be fought and won. Decades from now, people would learn about it in history class.

  “What the hell are you smiling about?” Darla whispered as she gave me a nudge with her elbow.

  “Just thinking about history class,” I said with a shrug and a smile.

  “You are so weird,” she muttered.

  We crossed the street and reached the edge of Bernie Park. A waist high Cyclone fence acted as a border. Grass had grown to the point of being within a few inches of the top of that fence. A cluster of tents could be seen on the far side of the park from us. They looked to be set up in the area around a large wooden play structure.

  I pointed and received nods of confirmation that they all knew exactly where we were headed. Everybody climbed over and we fanned out in a long line. Staying in a low crouch, we made our way closer and closer.

  I was beginning to think that we might be arriving at a decoy, or that perhaps they had already left here for their attack on the Island City compound. Signaling for everybody to halt, I crept closer by myself. Reaching the edge of the tall grass, I was at one of those asphalt paths. My heart just about came through my chest. Leaning up against the base of a tree less than ten feet away from me was a man with a rifle slung over his shoulder. I was able to relax just a bit when I realized that he was apparently dozing.

  Making sure that there was nobody else in sight, I crouch-ran straight to the guy. His eyes opened just as my hand clamped down over his mouth and my KA-BAR went up and under the bottom of his rib cage. I’d caught a whiff of some pretty heavy alcohol on his breath as he slid to the ground—red, bloodshot eyes still wide, but now glassy. I glanced down to find a Mason jar still half full of a clear, pungent liquid. I waved the rest of my group to join me.

  We were about thirty yards from what looked like the actual camp. I pulled a grenade from my pouch and watched as everybody on my team did the same. Inching forward very slowly, we came to within easy tossing distance from the target.

  Tents were set up in no particular order. I saw some folks stretched out on the grass, snoozing in the sun. A few even had hammocks. It was almost surreal to see the total lack of vigilance or concern. There were a few figures on the perimeter. These must be the individuals that had drawn watch duty. It seems we’d caught another fortuitous break as our approach brought us up on the one who had gotten blotto.

  Looking at my watch, the final seconds ticked by. Somebody nudged me, but I waved them off as the last seconds ticked. Five…

  Four…

  Three…

  Two…

  One!

  I pulled the pin and looked down the line to see faces that held a mixture of confusion and horror. Looking up, I saw a trio of children aging from around five to ten years old emerge from one of the tents. These were not zombies, their peals of laughter just another confirmation that they were, in fact, very much alive.

  Everybody was looking at me. All I could hear echoing in my head was the voice of Katrina. “I want you to come home to me, Billy Haynes. I want us to spend the rest of our forevers together. I want to face this new world with you beside me, so do what you have to do and then come back to me.”

  In a split second, I had to make a decision. Them…or us? I’d told myself that I had to put the old rules aside. If we were going to survive, I could not think like I did just a little over a year ago. According to our intel, these people were preparing to hit us with everything they had later tonight. I did not have the luxury of extending mercy. All I could do was hope that my soul would not be damned…that someday I would be able to sleep without the parade of nightmares. Things I had seen…things I had done…things I was about to do.

  No mercy.

  With a curt nod in each direction, I brought my arm back and watched as most (not all, I noticed) of the people on my team produced a grenade and did the same.

  In the distance, I heard explosions coming in rapid succession. I let my arm act as a catapult, tossing the grenade into the camp. I watched it fly lazily through the air. My eyes flicked to the three children who had all froze in place at the sound of the other teams’ grenades going off in the other camps. Then…they vanished behind a wall of smoke, flying dirt, and fire.

  12

  Vignettes LII

  Emily-zombie moved down the long fence. There had been a lot of activity in the past two days; and while she had no concept of time, she was oddly aware that it was uncommon for so much activity to happen over such an extended period.

  Twice, members of her group had surged forth and attacked the living; once had been a disaster, resulting in the loss of nine zombie children. She had walked out to where they were sprawled in a trampled front yard.

  She could not find a way to convey to the others that they did not need those sources of warmth. She could not make the others understand that there would be no fulfillment. This was something that each one of them must learn or discover on their own.

  A few seemed to have caught on, and it was this group that still remained. Their area was a little smaller now, and Emily-zombie saw no reason to have them spread out as much.

  Lately, and now even more often with all of the recent activity, a thought had returned. It was one that she struggled with because it seemed to pull her in
two different directions. Sometimes, when that spark would fire off a signal, her head would turn to the east and the hills that turned to mountains. Yet there were other times when her head would turn west.

  Either way, mountains rose and seemed like an impossible impediment. However, Emily-zombie had no real knowledge of such things as mountains…or impossible. There was a feeling rising that she could not keep at bay much longer.

  Home.

  It chimed and flooded her with a brief barrage of images. Sometimes she saw several faces…none with actual names that she could recall, but each with its own associated feeling.

  There was the dark-haired little girl whose face was the most prevalent of the bunch. She felt something stir in her when that image would come. There was a man…he was the second most common, but the feeling from his image invoked the most of what might be considered “feeling” if a zombie were actually capable.

  There were others, and they all came sporadically and far less frequent than the other two, but each sent a sensation through the little zombie girl.

  The other way had only one image that came with any consistency. It was one man’s face that returned time and time again. Yet, there was something that came just as suddenly and would wipe that image away to the point where all she saw was one of the larger ones staring up at her. Still, she could not deny the pull that came. Despite so much more depth and vividness to that collection of images that would roll through when she considered the mountains to the east, it was still that one image that she felt most drawn to when she looked west.

  Morning broke, and it was not really any different than any other. However, the large ones were restless. They were coming in increasing numbers. More and more stumbled through the streets; to the point where Emily-zombie and her group of zombie children felt the pull to stay close to the mother cat and her kittens.

  As the shadows vanished and the orb above shined its light and sent its warmth, Emily-zombie continued to hear noises from many places. Sometimes she would not be able to resist, and it was one of those times when she found herself alone amidst a big group of the large ones.

  They were moving towards a sound that came with a strange regularity. It was just that peculiarity that had drawn Emily-zombie out. However, once she reached a large, open field that stretched before her, Emily-zombie halted.

  She did not like to go out into such large, open spaces. Something about them made that message of ceasing to be come with more power. So Emily-zombie stopped and watched as many of the large ones passed by.

  In the distance, a few of the sources of warmth appeared. It was from those sources that the noise came, and now, as many of the large ones drew close, those sources of warmth only increased in the amount of noise that they made.

  Something was wrong.

  Emily-zombie could not know what she was seeing. It made no real sense to her. She could not comprehend on that level, and so she watched as a group of people banged on garbage can lids to draw the growing number of zombies into a hastily built corral.

  “Keep ‘em coming!” a voice hooted. “As soon as the signal comes to let us know that them folks up in Island City sent out their teams, we set these puppies free. That should derail their little train.”

  None of it made any sense to Emily-zombie, but she did see more and more of the large ones coming. She puzzled over why they all reached a certain spot and then just stopped. Her eyes did not see the fence, nor did they see the big gate swing shut.

  Eventually, Emily-zombie felt drawn to return to her group of zombie children. She was more certain now than ever before that it was time for them to move on. They did not need to stay and hunt these sources of warmth…they really brought nothing that lasted. She was more certain now than ever before that being anyplace where those sources of warmth existed meant one thing and one thing only.

  End.

  And while she still held no actual fear or concept of death, Emily-zombie was content to be as she was now.

  Alone, Emily-zombie walked down streets. On many occasions she had to withdraw into the shadows between a pair of buildings or underneath an abandoned car to avoid the flitting sources of warmth. They were out and in numbers greater than she had ever experienced. All of this combined to cause the spark that would fire to repeat the same message again and again.

  Hide.

  The image came in the form of darkness, of places with lots of tall grass. It did not take long for her to actually understand that concept for what it meant.

  Moving past a house, Emily-zombie turned towards an opening. She made her way to a back yard and stopped when she reached the edge of a large wooden structure. There was room enough that she barely had to dip her head to move beneath it.

  Enveloped in the darkness, Emily-zombie stood still and waited. She heard more noise, and once, just beyond the fence that still stood at the back of this overgrown yard, she saw a group of the sources of warmth move past.

  It took all of the newly developing and learned abilities that Emily-zombie possessed to remain still for so long against the barrage that her senses received. Twice she observed a massive group of the large ones amble past. She heard their cries and moans, yet Emily-zombie stayed where she had hidden.

  She had been still for a while when a new wave of sound came. It was strong enough for her to feel it in her feet as well as actually hear it. No sooner had the overwhelming amount of sound actually subsided when it came again. No less in intensity, the sounds rumbled from what seemed like every direction at once.

  Emily-zombie felt the urge grow. It was time. She could put it off no longer if she did not want to cease. She would go find the rest and they would leave. They would go towards where the bright light in the sky vanished every day.

  Staggering through the tall grasses and making her way back to what had been a sort of home for the past several weeks, Emily-zombie arrived at last. She was met by what remained of her group; a cluster of zombie children that had gathered in a yard.

  There, on the ground in the midst of her fellow zombie children were several misshapen figures. While she could not actually “see” them, she had come to know their shapes. Only, now their warmth was gone.

  Cease.

  That was the image that came in its varied forms as Emily-zombie looked down on the broken and dead remains of the mother cat and her kittens. Dropping to her knees, Emily-zombie picked up the cold form of the mother cat. It was limp in her hand and did not nuzzle or lick as it had always done in the past.

  Dead.

  For the first time, that signal came in place of the old “cease” signal that she had begun to comprehend. This time, however, she did understand. The mother cat was dead. No doubt killed in all of the noise and activity that had been occurring. She could not actually connect the two in any logical way, but a part of her “knew” the cause and came to the realization that she and the others like her would be next.

  Setting down the empty shell that had once been the mother cat, Emily-zombie began to walk. The others fell in as if they sensed a change.

  ***

  It had been three weeks. During that time they had found and lost two sets of bicycles, equipped themselves with some high-quality backpacks that they actually took off of zombies after putting them down for good. Not that it had been a challenge. The two pathetic creatures had been like turtles flipped onto their backs.

  The couple had been younger, perhaps in their early twenties by the look of it. It had actually been the easiest re-supply that Vix had experienced. The packs were still brimming with useful items. There were salt tablets, MREs, iodine pills, filtered canteens, and a varied assortment of tools. In addition, there was one other find that brought squeals of delight from both Vix and Gemma when the younger girl had pulled the sealed Ziploc bag from one of the packs and held it overhead like the prize that it was.

  “Bog rolls!” Gemma crowed.

  “Worth its weight in gold,” Vix said dreamily as she pulled the first
of three white rolls from the plastic protection and gave it a squeeze.

  Harold shook his head. While it was certainly a nice find, he did not see what all the fuss was about. He had been doing just dandy these past months without it. He maintained that stance all the way up until the first time he used it. He had forgotten what such a simple luxury an item that he had completely taken for granted could be.

  As the trio travelled east, they made it a point to skirt any major areas of population. While there may indeed be a treasure trove of items—including more tissue paper—the risk far outweighed the potential reward. They had been running on luck for quite a while and he had no desire to see the last of it used up.

  Staying parallel to the A13, they eventually were faced with a decision. Having made camp on an overpass just west of a community that the signs announced as Aveley, Harold poured over the map.

  “We need to decide if we want to risk crossing a bridge, The Queen Elizabeth Bridge is just south of here…or we can hope to find a small boat…perhaps in Grays or Tilbury…and give a go at making our way up the Thames.” Harold laid out the map and pointed so that both Vix and Gemma could see.

  “Which do you think is safest?” Vix asked.

  She had her own preference, but she was discovering that more often than not, the young man thought very similar to her. By letting him think that he was making decisions, it was easier to bring them to her way of thinking on those occasions when they differed. She would let Harold speak first, and if it was close to what she felt, then she would agree, thus stocking up more points for when she would have to draw a line.

  “We are going to have to take to the water sooner or later,” Harold said.

  “That is a good point,” Vix agreed. Ever since she had taken this particular tactic and made it at least seem like the other two had a say in things, it had been almost a miraculous turnabout in the group mood and dynamic.

  Harold traced a potential route on the map, explaining as he went. “We stay with our track along the A13 until we spot the overpass on this side of Orsett. From there, we just go due south until we hit the water. There are a few small towns that we may need to swing wide from, but sooner or later we will have to venture in. We can put it off all the way to Tilbury if need be.”