DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

by Brown, TW

  “Other than the grass, which I suggest we start grabbing those buckets and get to dousing, there is almost no fire. The explosion was relatively clean and contained. All the materials will burn out in a little while right there on that big slab of rock.”

  I looked back, and James gave me a nudge. “Seriously…get somebody on that grass fire now!”

  I barked out instructions and then turned back to the man who was smiling like a proud father witnessing his child pedal away without training wheels for the first time. I looked back to the plume of smoke and then searched for the second most important person in this little operation.

  Thomas was still up on that hill atop the defunct cell tower. He had the binoculars to his eyes. Handing my bucket to Darla, I headed up the hill to get a report. I reached the crest and discovered that I did not actually need one. Just as we’d hoped, the massive herd of zombies was starting to wheel around and head our direction.

  For this plan to actually work, we now needed one more thing to happen that we had no control over. The gunfire from the other locations had died down. We needed that to continue for this to have the best chance of being successful. From what everybody agreed upon, zombies seemed to react to the most recent stimulus. At the moment, that would be our explosion. By the time they would reach this location, we would have the last smoldering remains thoroughly watered down to prevent any chance of creating a wildfire that might make our securing of La Grande a moot point.

  “Should be almost an hour before they reach us,” Thomas said as he climbed down the tower.

  “As long as nothing else pulls them back, we should be golden,” I added.

  “You might want to make a suggestion to the folks in charge about setting up some sort of massive sound-based decoy. It wouldn’t matter what sort of fence we built, nothing short of a fortress wall would keep something the size of that,” he hiked a thumb over his shoulder for emphasis, “from stomping right through town and wiping us out.”

  I nodded at Thomas’ observation. However, my mind was taking it several steps further. What about if they came at night? These days, there is a whole new level of darkness that comes after the sun sets. Add in some cloud cover—which is a fairly common occurrence here in the Pacific Northwest—and you can get a degree of darkness that makes it easy to understand where man’s innate fear of the dark came from.

  I’d been out in the woods a few times in just those sorts of conditions. If there is no campfire, you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. Spotting zombies from a distance would be unlikely if not impossible.

  “Why don’t you tell them?” I asked. Suddenly I was curious about Doubting Thomas. The moment that I’d met him, he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. Yet, I’d seen him out in the field. He was not afraid to get dirty, followed directions, and had what seemed to be a good head on his shoulders.

  “Nobody would listen,” he answered with a shrug and a tone that indicated that the answer was fairly obvious. It wasn’t.

  “Why not?” I pressed. “I bet you have a few ideas rattling around already about how to combat this problem.”

  Thomas stopped and turned to face me. I had not really taken the time to examine him closely. I took time now. His eyes were almost sad, and there was a hint of scarring from what was probably some pretty wicked acne from his younger days. His teeth had a slight yellow tint, and he looked a bit more wrinkled and worn than your average person; my guess was that it was probably from a combination of smoking and coffee.

  “You ain’t from around here,” Thomas said softly. “Lots of these folks here know me from…before.”

  “Yeah…so?”

  “I was the guy who woke up Saturday mornings in the drunk tank more often than not…spent more than a few stretches of time in county jail for one thing or the other. It was never anything big until the last time…”

  His voice trailed off. I kept my mouth shut and waited. If he had more to say, I’d let him, but I was not going to press. At last, he started talking again.

  “I swear to God that I don’t remember nothin’ about what happened that night. I went out with the fellas for a few beers and the next thing that I remember is waking up in jail. This time though, it was different. I wasn’t in the normal holding cell. I was in a real cell. I knew the difference. Like I said, I’d been in and out a few times.

  “When one of the deputies stopped at my cell, he was looking at me like I was the lowest form of trash in the world. I asked him what the hell was going on, but he just gave me a dirty look and walked away. That was when I realized that my hands hurt. I looked down at them and they were all scuffed up and there was a nasty gash on one knuckle. I’ve busted a few fellas in the mouth in my day, I knew a tooth divot when I saw one.

  “A few hours passed and nobody would even give me the time of day…until my court appointed lawyer showed up. He had a five-page report and a folder full of pictures. According to the paperwork, I’d gone home and messed my wife up pretty bad.” Thomas took a deep breath and I could see the rims of his eyes starting to well up. I sure as heck didn’t want to be standing here while some guy I barely knew started crying. I was about to suggest that we hurry down to the others, but he started talking again.

  “I was sitting in county jail and about to go up on felony assault charges when all of this shit happened. I was looking at a five-spot if I got lucky. Then…one day…nobody showed up with the breakfast cart. Or the lunch. Or the dinner. Things started getting a bit cagey and I could hear folks yelling and screaming. When the gunshots began, I was sure that something crazy had happened. You always hear that there is a standing order in jails and prisons if martial law is declared that they can just go in and shoot all the prisoners. I ain’t got no idea if it is true or not, but I was thinking that I was about to find out.

  “A whole bunch of folks come in, a few of them wearing uniforms, and start opening the doors of every cell. They get to mine and one of the old timers, Trace Midden, he says to me that it’s the end of the world. He says I got two choices, be a part of trying to save the town, or a quick death. He don’t even let me answer when he adds that I might want the second choice since folks are being eaten alive by friends and loved ones.

  “I was confused and scared, but I knew for a fact that I did not want to die in that damned cell. They let me out, and I didn’t hardly wait long enough to say my thanks before I took off to my house.

  “I was less than two steps out the door of the jail when I saw the first one of them groaners…damned if it weren’t that young deputy that had given me the stink eye the day I woke up in jail. He was tearing into somebody, but I couldn’t tell who from all the blood. I didn’t know what I was seeing for a few seconds, I mean, it ain’t like it was normal to come up on some fella eating another person.

  “I turned and hauled ass. My home weren’t far. I reached my street after passing more than one terrible scene after another. My brain kept tellin’ me that I weren’t awake…everything had to be a nightmare. Then I was at my house.”

  Thomas stopped, and I was really hoping that he was done. By now, all of my group had migrated up and were standing in a loose semi-circle around us. I scanned the faces, not sure what I would see. It was a mixture ranging from knowing and sharing in the man’s pain, curiosity, and a few cases of what I had to guess was actual disinterest.

  Jeez, I thought, how bad of a reputation did this guy have for anybody to regard such obvious pain with complete apathy? My reason for not wanting to hear his story was based on an approaching herd of zombies that might number in the millions. Sure, we had them guesstimated at an hour away, but I was not in the mood to check our ability to calculate the average speed of a zombie.

  “My Patty came out of the house as I reached the walkway…” Thomas finally continued.

  Screw it, I thought, we had a few minutes. I was of the belief that he had not ever told this story to anybody out loud. If he was the social pariah that he claimed, I doubted
that he’d been given the chance.

  “…she still had a dark smear of greenish-yellow around her left eye from where I’d punched her in the face, but her eyes looked funny…them damn black squigglies,” he spat. “There was a bandage around her left arm and blood was already leaking through. She come runnin’ to me, all tears and carryin’ on about our neighbor, Old Man Tibbets. She was sayin’ how he bit her just a few hours ago when she’d gone over to check on him.”

  That was where Thomas stopped again. He looked around at us. We could all guess the rest of the story more or less. I saw no reason to have him continue. The tears streaking his face were more than enough.

  “We need to get moving,” I said, startling a few of the group with my sudden command.

  I got my bearings and decided that we would be best served to head due east. That would provide us with the most cover. It would also get us out from in front of that mile wide sea of zombies headed our way.

  I gave us some time to sort of spread out, nudging Thomas and indicating with my eyes that he should fall back with me a bit. Once I was certain that nobody was in hearing distance, I stopped him with a tug at his sleeve.

  “I ain’t gonna lie,” I said quickly, wanting to get this over, “if this was the Old World…I would probably never talk to you again. However, I also think that maybe you are honestly sorry for what you did. I ain’t gonna hold it against you, but if I see you step out of line so much as once, we are through. You got me?”

  Thomas nodded and I turned to catch up with Darla and James. I had no explanation for why I felt sorry for the guy. He had a sad story, but so did everybody else. A small voice in my head piped up to remind me of the acts that I’d just committed. Maybe I needed somebody like Thomas to make me feel better about myself.

  ***

  “I see at least a dozen,” Darla whispered, her voice still sounding meaty from that hole in her cheek. It sort of reminded me what people had sounded like after a dentist appointment when their mouth was still messed up from the numbing shots.

  We’d made our way around that massive herd and taken refuge in a large two-story yellow house that sat in a small ridge at the end of a cul-de-sac. From the roof, I had a clear view back the way that we’d come and could see out to the rolling fields that unscrolled their green carpets all the way to the distant foothills of the Blue Mountains.

  I could not actually see the reservoir where we had set off that explosion—and by “we” I meant James—but I could see the brush prairie just beyond it to the south. It was black with the milling swarm of undead. For the briefest of seconds, I wondered who I had just put in the path of that creeping throng of death.

  My mind snapped back to Darla. The “dozen” that she was referring to were probably stragglers from that massive herd, either that, or they might even belong to that large (but still much smaller) group that we’d seen pouring from the university grounds. Of course they could just be their own little herd seed. Over time they would pick up more of their kind and maybe grow to the size of that awesome crowd that we’d diverted. With all of the sudden noise that had been created by our multiple attacks around La Grande, we could have drawn them out from anywhere.

  I looked around my group and saw the fatigue etched on their faces. The fight and everything that followed had taken its toll on all of us. We were spent, and I knew that nobody wanted to be called upon.

  “Everybody stay put,” I said as I moved to the edge of the roof.

  Getting down on my stomach, I let my legs slide over and reached with the tip of my boot until I found the rail of the balcony. A moment later I was walking out the front door and angling towards the general direction of where we had seen the zombies.

  “Hold up!” I heard a loud whisper-yell from behind me.

  Turning, I saw Darla and Thomas jogging my way. When they caught up, I gave them both a grateful nod and moved to the end of a tall fence that would allow me to peek out at where I would expect to find the small cluster of walking dead. Ducking low and easing my head out to take a look, I was greeted by a low moan from the mouth of a zombie that had been standing as still as a statue on the other side of the fence!

  “Fuck!” I yelled as I stumbled back.

  A set of withered and dead fingers gripped the edge of the fence and the zombie came around in a twisted parody of peek-a-boo. It took two steps for me and stopped. It was only then that I realized that this particular zombie was a child.

  The child had been no older than twelve. She had worn glasses. The reason that I knew such a trivial fact was from the jagged piece of lens that still jutted from the empty and withered left eye socket. It had been deeply embedded and was so covered in rot and filth that I doubted it would even be possible to remove at this point; not that I had any intentions of doing such a thing.

  Thomas stepped forward and raised his machete. Darla grabbed his hand and yanked him back. The zombie turned its head slightly as if to regard the pair. I couldn’t swear that this particular zombie had been with the group of child zombies that I’d seen earlier, but I could not swear she hadn’t either.

  Thomas tried to jerk away and the zombie girl turned her head just a bit more to fix him with her single-eyed gaze. She made a hissing sound that made my skin pebble up and every hair stand on end.

  “What the f…” Darla started, going silent when the gaze shifted to her.

  “…fuck,” I finished.

  The girl turned to face me again. Her head tweaked one direction and then the other, reminding me of a bird. To say that I was creeped out would be the understatement of a lifetime. A rustling came from the other side of the fence and another zombie stepped into view.

  “No…” I breathed. “That can’t be possible.”

  Another little girl emerged to take her place beside the first one. Her black hair was matted and falling out in a few patches. The skin was almost entirely gray and almost appeared to be a bit waterlogged.

  Darla’s hand twitched, and I could tell that she was really struggling with the urge to draw her weapon. I shot her a hard look and shook my head. Another…and then another child stepped into view. I recognized the one girl from before and was now certain that this was the same group we’d encountered earlier. Still…that did not explain—

  “Emily,” I breathed.

  The face was almost unrecognizable…almost. But I was more or less certain of the identity of this particular zombie. My mind raced with so many thoughts. How was this possible? Of all the zombies, of all the possible places that I could have ended up at this particular moment.

  “Do you know this zombie?” Darla said with as much incredulity in her voice as I felt in the pit of my stomach.

  “I did. She was part of our group when we still lived up in the cabin.”

  Emily-zombie tilted her head to one side and then the other. For just a moment, I could swear that something flashed in her eyes that could have been recognition. Then, she made a mewling noise and turned. The others that had joined her turned and followed.

  I was still sitting on the ground in utter disbelief when I heard a clanging noise that sounded like a rock on a piece of sheet metal. I got to my feet and scurried back to the edge of the fence and risked another peek.

  “No freaking way,” I gasped.

  At the end of the block, I watched as Emily raised the brick in her hand and brought it down hard on a stop sign that had been bent down to about a foot off the ground. At least two dozen zombie children had fallen in with her. But that was not what had my attention.

  They poured out from just to my left. The dozen or so zombies that I’d spied were only the leading edge! I watched as a steady stream of undead continued to flow past less than two blocks away. It looked like I just found the herd from the university. Yes, they were much smaller than that other group, but they still had numbers that made it next to impossible for me and my group to contend with.

  I watched in disbelief as Emily-zombie and her small group moved off alm
ost directly east. They must have been moving exactly parallel to us for who knows how long.

  “Wait,” Darla whispered, “is that group of zombie children leading that other group away from us?”

  As unlikely and improbable as it seemed, that was exactly what was happening. We remained still, fearing that even breathing too loud might bring a curious zombie our way to investigate; and where one came, you could count on many more following.

  We must have stayed put watching that hellish parade for almost an hour before the final stragglers limped past and eventually disappeared from sight. I stood up and turned to Thomas and Darla. They both had questioning looks, but I had no answers. I know what I’d seen. Of course I would share it with Dr. Zahn, but something made me feel deep in my gut that I would never see Emily again.

  ***

  The compound came into view. It seemed awfully quiet for a place that had just, for all intents and purposes, conquered a city. La Grande was now wiped clean of all the little factions that had held out. So why did I feel like garbage?

  My crew had done what we set out to do. We had mopped up our target, leaving nobody alive in our wake. The business of securing the entirety of this town could now begin.

  I had to wonder, is this what our forefathers felt when they swept the Native Americans aside? Sure, Graham and his council were using the idea that this place was being re-settled by the citizens of La Grande. But I was from Portland; would I be a lesser citizen once the dust settled? We now had far more than we knew what to do with when it came to territory. I had no idea how they intended to keep it secure. I also did not know how they would police it to make sure that no new roving bands moved in. Would we have to make another sweep in a few weeks…months?

  I pulled up a few hundred yards away from the barricades and towers that marked the current border of the Island City settlement. My team pulled up with me and gathered around. I was not much on speeches, but I had a few things that I felt I needed to say. After all, these people had followed me on this mission. They might not ever tell anybody what they saw or what we did, but they would know in their hearts and carry the scars on their souls for the rest of their lives. We would share this forever no matter what happened once we walked through those gates.