by Kuhn, Steve
JC exhaled deeply and swung his bear over his shoulder. He stalked right past the jeep and the truck as we all spilled into the parking lot, storming off alone. I don’t think anyone was shocked. It was exactly what we expected out of JC.
Fuck ’im.
We fired up the vehicles and began pulling out of the parking lot, leaving him behind. I checked the rearview and watched as he looked at us pulling out on his left. Then he looked to the right at the incoming geeks as they slowly but surely made their way toward the gas station, their numbers growing as they approached.
As Murphy slowed down just enough for JC to catch up with the pickup and jump in the truck bed with Kylee, I smiled to myself.
Good boy, JC… Good boy.
Entry 81
We’ve lost Kylee. Shit, man, she just checked out—possibly for good. I can’t really do anything about this except hope she comes back to us. For hours she just stares off into space, saying nothing and moving like one of the dead. Anytime you address her, she turns to look at you, but you’d swear she was high… and she says nothing… no expression, nothing.
She’s not dead, but I think she wishes she was. None of us know what to think about what happened this afternoon. All I know is that Cutty has been pouring over that little Bible I gave him with shaky hands for nearly two hours. Fool just keeps rocking back and forth with his knees pulled up to his chest. JC has been pacing, staring out the door of the diner, and Murphy’s reading the owner’s manual to the Freightliner we just made our own. We’re all in our own worlds right now. Shit, I’m writing because if I don’t get this out of my head, it’s going to drive me insane.
The only thing that makes perfect sense is that the girls are together, and the men are being kept at a distance. Fart hasn’t left Kylee’s side since it began. And Rebecca… Well, Rebecca is our hero today.
It started with JC pounding on top of the pickup truck to get Murphy’s attention as we pulled up on this shitty truck stop. I saw them slow down behind me, so I did the same when Murphy flashed his headlights a few times. That’s been our signal for piss breaks and stuff like that for a couple weeks now. There was a panic this time, though, when he flashed. It was faster, and he whipped off to the side of the road too quick for me to feel comfortable about it.
As we bailed out of the jeep, JC shouted, “It’s happening. We gotta get inside this truck stop now.”
Rebecca drew her little pistol and made her way to the side of the pickup. I ran to catch up with her and put my hand on her shoulder, but she just shrugged me off and said, “Relax.”
Relax? Fuckin’ kidding me, right? I made Kylee a promise, and if it was indeed time to go, I’d be damned if I was gonna let Rebecca fuck that up.
Cutty posted up at the back of the truck with his eyes on the desolate road, occasionally peeking over his shoulder at Kylee. Fool did the same, acting as long cover and doing sort of a pizza-move thing at the gates of the truck stop.
That was when I heard Kylee cry out. She was dry heaving and clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. She had begun that gross, cold sweat again. That was nothing compared to the blood. Where the fuck was the blood coming from that pooled under her back?
Rebecca snapped at us, “Back up, all of you! Do it now!”
There was a slight skirmish when I reached for her weapon and tried to tell her that she wasn’t going to do anything until after it was over. Murphy even moved to help me out, but Rebecca broke free and backed up a few steps, holding her gun pointed in the air with her other arm outstretched at us like ‘Back up, I’m not gonna hurt anyone.’
She lowered the weapon, put it in her waistband, and told everyone, “She’s not turning. She is very sick, and I can help her. Murphy, you stay here with me. Everyone else, go find us someplace safe to clean her up. Do it now. Go!”
I didn’t really trust Rebecca as far as I could throw her when it came to Kylee, but Murphy gave me a wise nod. So, I dashed off with JC and Cutty to catch up with Fool at the gates. Fool was in combat mode, which was easy to see by that glazed-over look he got. I noticed when he wasn’t fired up, but rather in deep concentration, he didn’t do the ‘know what I’m sayin’ shit. He was different.
He told us in a whisper, “Two bernies by the diner. Four by that line of trucks.”
JC took a look and shocked the shit out of us by asking, “What should I do?”
Fool calmly said, “Dext, stay here at the gate. You get to play medic today. If we have trouble in here, come help out. If Becca and Murph call for help, you go there instead. JC, you an’ me are gonna open this gate up and spread out. I go left, you go right. Cutty, chop those two fawckin’ bernies up by the diner… We’ll cover you. If the otha four catch on, then we’ll shoot ’em all.”
Cutty took a look at the situation and made a hilarious stank-face before saying, “Bitch, please.” He brushed past Fool and JC muttering, “Move, nigga, damn!” as he went by and opened the gate himself.
Cutty was in a low crouch as he snuck up on the two diner stinks standing side by side sharing flies. He shoved the first one from behind, and it fell face-first onto the ground as he hacked into the second one’s head, killing it instantly. As the fallen geek made a move to get to its feet, Cutty stepped on its back and brought down the thunder. He flexed on ’em, signature-move style.
Kylee cried out, and my attention snapped to the pickup for a moment as JC and Fool rushed past me into the truck stop. She was repeating, “Oh God, it hurts… It hurts so bad!”
By the time I turned my head back to the truck stop, Cutty was panting and standing over the remains of four geeks. Somehow there were about six pieces of them on the ground. Fuckin’ Cutty, man—boss all day long…
JC and Fool disappeared into the diner.
I heard Rebecca shout, “Dext! Come help now! It’s over!”
I ran as fast as I could back over to the pickup, which was now the grizzliest scene I’d ever laid eyes on, even since the beginning. I’m actually tearing up as I write this right now, because I would have rather had my own heart torn out than see it.
Kylee was naked from the waist down as she lay there in Rebecca’s arms. Both of them were lying in the bed of the truck covered in blood, dark and clotted as well as bright red. They were sweating and crying, just absolutely pitiful to look at. It was an instant moment of devastation that was palpable as soon as the sight hit my eyes—like a dark, looming cloud hung directly over the truck.
Murphy kept his back to them in an effort to let them have some dignity.
In her hands, cradled gently, Kylee held her fetus. It was no larger than a grapefruit and barely humanoid, but it was clearly a child. Like the fucking moron I am, I asked Rebecca, “What happened?”
Rebecca didn’t make me feel dumb or anything. She simply said, “She lost her baby. We need to get her inside. Clean her up.”
I dashed like lightening away from them and called the others. They came quickly, and their jaws dropped at the scene. Kylee was now covered up a bit, and the fetus was laid on some blankets that Murphy had scrounged from the truck.
Cutty muttered, “Jesus…”
JC turned chalk white and asked Kylee in a shaky voice, “Mine…? Ours?”
Kylee said nothing.
Rebecca answered for her, saying, “No. It can’t be. She was a few months along. Guys, she didn’t know.”
Fool asked the childish question of, “How come she didn’t know? She had to miss her period. She had to know, know what I’m sayin’?”
Rebecca snapped at him, “You don’t know shit! It happens, especially with stress. She didn’t know, all right? You’re not helping.”
I held Kylee’s bloodied hand for a brief moment, and she looked at me. With tears streaming down her face, she tried to say, “Don,” but managed only to mouth his name.
I shushed her.
Cutty scooped her up like a child, and we all walked together to the truck stop and into the diner, closing the gate behind us. Led by
Rebecca, Cutty continued to carry Kylee into the restroom and left the girls alone to clean up before rejoining all of us outside in the dining room.
JC asked, “You guys think it’ll turn? The baby, I mean.”
Murphy told us, “We were never able to get a result on a fetus. I think it was a development trait, genetics change during gestation and, for some reason, there is a point where the genes and the Spark just click. Never got that far.”
Cutty told us, “Y’all know I got ta pray on dis.”
We all nodded as Cutty sat in a booth to do his thing.
It was a while before Rebecca and Kylee rejoined us. Both were visibly shaken, and Kylee leaned on Rebecca heavily. Kylee told us all through tears, “I have to bury my baby. Please… please help me bury my baby. I can’t leave her out there in the truck all alone.”
Cutty swooped over to her and held her in his massive arms and said, “We got you, girl. We gon’ help you through dis. Le’s go right now and get yo’ li’l baby.”
Twilight had begun to settle in as we all gathered around Kylee and exited the gates. We surrounded her like armed escorts and approached the truck.
Fart hunkered down and growled at the vehicle as we approached. Everyone came to attention, weapons raised. If I had it all to do over again… If I knew what to expect, I would have shielded Kylee’s sight. Everyone just stood there in horror, myself included, when we saw the lone geek leaning over the bed of the truck covered in blood. It was holding the remains of Kylee’s fetus, having torn it in half, and was chewing greedily at what was left.
Kylee shrieked and fainted, pulling Rebecca down to the ground as she fell.
We’ve killed tons of geeks in the past couple of months, but never have the four of us dropped our weapons, drug one into the street, and stomped it to death. We left it flat. We didn’t even kick it in the head until the end, and it wasn’t until Fool slipped in brains and blood, falling to the ground, that we stopped.
Kylee has been almost catatonic since.
I think we’re going to try and hang out here for a while—recover. I feel so disgusted and empty right now that I’m failing to find the words to express my feelings. Sometimes I’m good at that, but times like this just call for me to write down what happened. Once again, I’m just telling the story—our story.
Letter to Dr. Morofsky
To: Dr. Morofsky
Fr: Col. Lang
Re: Transfer Request
Date: Aug 7th, 1 AO
Dr. Morofsky,
While I respect your position, as well as your anxious nature with regards to this supposed mutation, I must remain firm. Under normal circumstances I would forward your request up the chain of command due its serious implications, but that is not an option at this time. Our high command is either completely out of commission or has experienced a complete communications failure. That has left us in a unique position in which commanders from various branches that can remain in contact are relying on common sense and teamwork to make the proper decisions.
It is no secret that you have been after a chance to travel to the New Mexico facility for whatever reasons seem to fit your agenda for nearly eight months now. Don’t think for a second that I haven’t seen the other transfer requests—all fourteen of them! Moreover, do not ever underestimate my ability to weed out manipulation of any sort, Dr. Morofsky. I would much prefer you just be up front about your desire to work with Subject 17. That is the main reason you wish to transfer, is it not?
I thought so.
Subject 17’s status remains stable, and tests from the New Mexico facility confirm that not only is there a strong possibility of a working vaccine within the year, there is also concrete evidence that the original intent of the Necro-Animetrics to extend the human life cycle is still viable! However, none of that can be achieved without men like yourself in the field collecting samples and carrying out your usual tasks.
That being said, due to your passion for your craft and your inexplicably pristine record of success, I am granting your request to travel to New Mexico. However, I must deny any request for an escort. I cannot afford to pull a single able-bodied man or woman from their post at this time. If you are going to travel to New Mexico, you will have to do so at your own risk. I’ll leave the arrangements up to you and SSG Chalmers.
I’ll expect correspondence upon your arrival at the facility—that is, if you make it safely. Good luck, Dr. Morofsky.
- Col. Lang
About the Author:
Steve Kuhn is a former professional musician turned writer. Raised in Baltimore, Maryland and with a deep seeded passion for horror, he brings a refreshingly raw and witty style to his work. He has been featured in countless online publications as a critical reviewer and has spent the last three years crafting the epic zombie series, Dext of the Dead.
Also Available from
Books of the Dead Press:
Steve Kuhn - We Are The Plague: Dext of the Dead, Book 1
Dext is a regular man in an irregular situation. The undead plague has decimated the population, but pockets of survivors still remain. A battered military search for survivors while scientists work frantically to control the spread. The clock is ticking… if he can keep running.
Steve Kuhn - We Are The Infected: Dext of the Dead, Book 2
Dext and his crew are reeling from the losses incurred during their stay at The Haven and are on the run. A military unit known as Kilo Company appears to be the group’s best bet for survival, but they are miles ahead and the gap is widening. Everything is not what it seems.
Steve Kuhn - We Are The Entombed: Dext of the Dead, Book 3
The dead have permeated every square inch of the country, leaving the survivors desperate for commodities. Roving bands of raiders and small, independent communities pose serious threats to one another, much like the increasing numbers of ravenous, shambling corpses.
Steve Kuhn - We Are The Extinction: Dext of the Dead, Book 4
Tensions mount for Dext and his crew as they travel west in search of the elusive military unit known as Kilo Company. Characters, both good and evil, affect the course of events. Threats wait around every corner. A truth has been revealed: mankind is more monstrous than the living dead.
Steve Kuhn - We Are The End: Dext of the Dead, Book 5
The battle for Vegas is done, but not without heavy casualties and broken loyalties. Dishonesty within the group and mental instability weakens the bonds of family, making them vulnerable. One member will break an unspoken rule and thrust the entire group to the brink of self-destruction.
Duncan McGeary - Death of an Immortal: Vampire Evolution Trilogy 1
The most powerful and feared vampire disappeared at the height of his powers and passed into legend. Most vampires think he’s dead. He is not dead.
Duncan McGeary - Rule of Vampire: Vampire Evolution Trilogy 2
Jamie is on the run. Nobody taught her how to be a vampire; no one told her the Rules of Vampire. How was she supposed to know her limits? Now the vampire hunters want her dead.
Duncan McGeary - Blood of Gold: Vampire Evolution Trilogy 3
Terrill was the most ruthless vampire, but he evolved into a Golden Vampire, renouncing violence. He didn’t know that the evolution was directed by forces bigger than himself.
Justin Robinson - Undead On Arrival
Glen Novak is a dead man. Unfortunately for the scumbag who killed him, Novak will keep on cracking skulls until he finds the piece of trash that set him up, or is turned into a walking sack of rotten meat.
Duncan McGeary - Led to the Slaughter
Trapped in the Sierra Nevada without food, The Donner Party are led to the slaughter. After being manipulated into a string of bad decisions, the travelers, frozen and abandoned, are preyed upon by werewolves in their midst––the very people they thought were friends.
TS Alan - The Romero Strain
A group of New Yorkers is chased into the city’s underground by a zombie horde. Along the
ir subterranean journey, they gather survivors while traveling to Grand Central Terminal, where they believe help will be found.
John F.D. Taff – Kill/Off
When David Benning is blackmailed by a shadowy organization known only as The Group, he’s thrust into a world of guns, payoffs, and killing unknown, seemingly ordinary people. As he becomes more enmeshed, he begins to grasp The Group’s true motives.
J.C. Michael - Discoredia
As the year draws to a close, a mysterious stranger makes a proposition to club owner. It’s a deal involving a drug called Pandemonium. The good news: the drug is free. The bad news: it comes with a heavy price. Euphoria and ecstasy. Death and depravity. All come together at Discoredia.
James Roy Daley – Authors & Publishers Must Die!
No punches are pulled in this nonfiction title, which is filled to the rim with straightforward, practical advice for writers while exploring what it’s like to be on the other side of the desk. A must read for every author.
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 1 - 4
Homicide detective Alex Drummond is confronted with the past through his son’s innocent question. Alex’s tale of his troubled senior year unfolds revealing loss, drunken abuse, and mysterious visions of murder and demonic children.
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 5 - 8
Alcohol claims another life close to home. Alex and Paige set out to discover the truth, but who would believe a troubled teenager who claims to have visions?
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 9 - 12
Struggling to hold onto his suspicions of Irene Harris, Alex heads to the DC Metropolitan Police Department. There, his suspicions are finally put to rest, and Alex is forced to start his search again.
Julie Hutchings - Running Home
Death hovers around Ellie Morgan like the friend nobody wants. She doesn’t belong in snow-swept Ossipee, at a black tie party––but that is where she is, and where he is: Nicholas French, the man who mystifies her with the impossible knowledge of her troubled soul.
John F.D. Taff – The Bell Witch
A historical horror novel/ghost story based on what is perhaps the most well-documented poltergeist case to occur in the United States. The Bell Witch is, at once, a historical novel, a ghost story, a horror story, and a love story all rolled into one.
