The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead

by Steven Ramirez

  “We could shoot the lock off.”

  “That’s bound to attract attention,” Landry said. “Where’s your axe?”

  Ben, Aaron and I took turns whacking at the lock. After a few minutes, we were drenched in sweat. At some point the lock gave. We drove through, then I shut the gate and replaced the chain and broken lock to make it appear secure.

  The fire road was dusty and full of ruts. I had to be careful not to drive too fast, or I might break an axle. It was around ten miles to town via the winding road. Though we didn’t see any military personnel, we passed a number of undead along the way—out-of-shape tourists wandering like addicts, looking for fresh meat. We didn’t risk stopping to deal with them.

  Once we reached Tres Marias, I thought we’d be stopped again. But the troops were preoccupied with keeping order as merchants closed up their shops before evacuating. Some civilians wore surgical masks in the vain hope that they were protected against an airborne virus. One of the merchants, a toy shop owner I recognized, had taped a hand-painted sign in her window that read SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE. At the bottom was a smiley face.

  As we made our way through downtown, I saw the graffiti covering the buildings. One message read ATTENTION TOURISTS: YOU SHOULD’VE CHOSEN SAN DIEGO.

  Approaching an intersection, I saw soldiers, their AR-15s fixed on something in an alley. Several undead staggered into the sunlight, covered in blood from a fresh kill. I heard someone give a command, and they fired. At first they aimed for the chest. When that didn’t work, they aimed for the head and dropped them in seconds.

  Up ahead, another group of soldiers patrolled the sidewalk. I noticed a drunk coming out of the Beehive.

  As we waited at the intersection for the signal to change, we saw the drunk weaving bad. I got scared.

  One of the soldiers said, “Halt!”

  The drunk must not have heard. As they raised their weapons, he kept weaving towards them. My stomach went up into my throat as they drew a bead on him.

  “God, no,” I said.

  Then it happened.

  The drunk went down in a hail of bullets. This was when I knew, if the people in charge couldn’t tell the difference between a drunk and the undead, we were all doomed.

  As we cruised past, Landry said, “Poor bastard.”

  A chain-link fence with concertina wire strung across the top surrounded the high school. Armed soldiers manned a single entrance. On the roof, more soldiers trained their weapons on the ground below.

  We stopped at a sentry station. A soldier wearing body armor came over to the driver’s window.

  “I’m Dave Pulaski,” I said. “I live in this town.”

  “What do you want here?”

  “I’m looking for my wife.”

  “I’ll need to see your ID,” he said. Then to Landry, “You too.” He nodded towards the motor home behind us. “They with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  He signaled to another soldier to deal with Ben and Aaron.

  We waited while our IDs were processed using a magstripe reader attached to a laptop. I hoped that the police hadn’t flagged me over Jim’s death. Then the sentry handed back the licenses and waved us through.

  “Not sure how much parking is left,” he said.

  We circled for ten minutes, which, come to think of it, made no sense. Nobody was leaving, so we gave up and parked along a fence that separated the school from a residential street.

  The gym was full. It smelled of sweat and feet. It was hard to hear over people talking and arguing and babies squalling. Sleeping bags lay everywhere. Families with small children, couples, old people. And everyone was scared. I wondered what they’d been told.

  “This is unfortunate,” Landry said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They won’t be able to defend these people. Look at all these small kids—the elderly. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

  “I guess positive thinking was never your style.”

  “I’m facing facts, Dave. Let’s see if we can locate your wife.”

  Though I knew it was hopeless, I texted Holly to let her know we were here, but found that I had no bars.

  We had left our weapons locked in our vehicles on Landry’s advice. Sure enough, we were checked for guns when coming into the facility.

  “I’m going to look for Holly,” I said.

  “I’ll find out what I can from the authorities,” Landry said. “Ben, why don’t you and Aaron come with me.”

  I took my time, starting at one end of the gym and going down every aisle looking for my wife. It was hard to walk in places—peoples’ stuff was spread out everywhere. One woman screamed at me because I almost stepped on her toddler. Everyone was on edge.

  The last time I was in this gym was for high-school graduation. My dad had passed away the year before, but my mom, sick as she was, made it to the ceremony. Though it was no big deal to me, I remembered how proud she was. She had never finished high school. Right before she died, I promised her I would find a way to go to college. Another one of my commitments washed away in a river of beer and regret.

  There were a lot of people whom I recognized from the town. They all had that scared, hollowed-out look, like their spirits had already departed.

  Mrs. Hough, one of my parents’ neighbors, touched my arm as I passed by. Her hair was white—the last time I’d seen her, she was still dying it. She was in her early seventies, but she looked older and frailer.

  “Dave?” she said.

  “Mrs. Hough. How are you?”

  “Not well. They rushed me down here, and I forgot my medication. It’s at the house, and I’m too afraid to go back for it.”

  She was kind of a chatterbox, and I wanted to find Holly. But I remembered how the old woman used to come over and look after my mom during those last weeks and months, bringing her soup and magazines and helping with bathing. So I sat on the floor next to her and listened.

  “They won’t tell us what’s going on,” she said. “They keep saying there’s been some kind of, of outbreak. I don’t even know what that means. Who are these people?”

  “What’s the medication for?”

  “Diabetes and blood pressure mostly. Don’t ever get old, Dave.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll take a run over there.”

  “Oh!” she said. “That’s so kind. My son sent word that he was coming to get me. I told him not to leave school, but he insisted.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I have to find someone, but I’ll go to your house in a little while, okay? I promise. Think you can hold out?”

  “Here are my house keys.”

  “Don’t worry. Why don’t you try to rest?”

  I fluffed her pillow and helped her lie down. She didn’t seem to want to let go of my hand.

  “God bless you, Dave,” she said and closed her eyes. “You’re a saint.”

  It took me a few minutes to cover the rest of the floor. I didn’t see Holly anywhere. I didn’t think she would go back to the house, so I tried to think where else she might be. Why hadn’t she called or texted? There was an obvious answer, but I refused to think about it.

  “No luck?” Landry said when I rejoined the others.

  “No.”

  “They’re telling everyone it’s an endemic outbreak.”

  “Yeah, I heard. What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means there’s a virus that’s prevalent in this area, and it’s spreading from person to person,” Landry said. “Pretty much what I guessed. We can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?” Ben said. “Look at all this protection.”

  Landry signaled for us to follow him outside, away from everyone. “Because,” he said, “once the undead discover that there’s a whole building full of fresh meat, they’ll attack without mercy. And these guys won’t be able to stop them, I don’t care how good they are. This place is Hell’s waiting room.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Ben said. “These soldiers a
re trained. They have weapons.”

  “And if it was just a few undead attacking, I would agree with you. You’ve seen it. These things travel in hordes. All they have to do is bite a soldier and he becomes one of them on the spot. We can’t risk it.”

  “How many do you think there are out there?” Aaron said.

  “At this point,” Landry said, “could be in the thousands.”

  “So where do we go?” Ben said. They looked at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Shit, I forgot. I promised a neighbor I’d get her medication. She’s sick. I can do it on my own.”

  “Take Aaron with you,” Landry said.

  “No,” Ben said, grabbing his son’s arm. “I’ll go.”

  Though Aaron was pretty green, I didn’t have a lot of confidence in Ben. He was an even worse survivalist than me. And with that artificial hip, I felt he was a liability.

  “Dad, it’s fine. I can do this. You stay here with Mr. Landry.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “I love you, son. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll stay in the motor home until you return,” Landry said. “Then we’ll all leave together. Try to hurry.”

  As Aaron and I headed for my truck, a soldier stopped us. “You need to get back inside,” he said.

  “A neighbor of mine is in there,” I said. “I’m going to her house to get her medication.”

  “We’re not supposed to let you people come and go.”

  “I get that, but she’s not doing too well. She’s pretty old.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Eleanor Hough.”

  He signaled to a soldier with a laptop, who looked her up. Then he said, “Make it fast.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Hey, what’s going on with the cell-phone service?”

  “Last I heard, we were looking into it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re looking into it.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, but he’d already turned away from me and had started a conversation with another soldier.

  “What do you think is going on with the cell phones?” Aaron said.

  “Maybe it’s part of their plan to contain this thing.”

  Driving out of the parking lot, I almost hit a kid on a skateboard. It was strange to see someone taking things so lightly—just another day at the skate park. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Dressed in jeans and a black Hurley T-shirt, his long, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. I wondered how long before he wasn’t human.

  Mrs. Hough lived on a cul-de-sac across the street from the house where I grew up. When we drove in, I imagined how we could get trapped in there, with one way out.

  “Which house?” Aaron said.

  “The one with the pinwheel petunias.”

  “Cute.”

  “Is that sarcastic cute?”

  “No, just … Yeah, sarcastic.” Aaron laughed self-consciously.

  The street was deserted. I remembered a flock of wild parrots that used to hang out in the maple trees, squawking their heads off. Now there was silence.

  Before getting out of the truck, we scanned all the houses, looking for movement of any kind. Then we grabbed our guns.

  While Aaron watched for intruders, I unlocked the front door and let myself in. Mrs. Hough’s house smelled old. There was old furniture and lots of family photos. She was a widow with one grown son, who, last I heard, lived and worked in LA and was not, as the old woman had recollected, going to school.

  I found the master bedroom and the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, I saw nothing but toothpaste, mouthwash and various lotions. Next, I went to the kitchen, where a group of medications were lined up along one of the beige tile counters, next to a yellow notepad with a grocery list written on it, a ballpoint pen and a stack of coupons.

  Unable to carry all the medication, I searched for a plastic grocery bag. It took me a few minutes to gather everything up. On the way to the foyer, I heard a noise.

  My heart thudded. I heard the sound again. It was a growl—definitely an animal. Scanning the room, I backed up to the front door, which was partially open.

  “Aaron, there’s something in here.”

  He came in, his weapon raised. I slung the plastic bag on my arm and aimed my weapon as well. We waited for another sound. A scratching noise came from the hall closet.

  “Let’s leave,” Aaron said.

  “Good idea.”

  Then the door swung open, and something leapt out at us. It was a small dog, a white-and-grey Shih Tzu, baring his teeth. He was cute, with his bugged-out eyes and massive underbite. Relieved, I lowered my weapon. He stopped growling and stared at me. Then he wagged his tail. I didn’t recall Mrs. Hough ever having a dog. He must have been a recent addition.

  “Come here, boy,” Aaron said, and moved closer. “You scared?” The dog sat.

  “Hang on,” I said. “What if he’s rabid?”

  Ignoring me, Aaron patted his head. The dog rolled onto his back, waiting for a belly scratch.

  “Do you think she forgot about him?” Aaron said.

  I opened the plastic bag and searched through the medications. One of them was Aricept. The poor woman had Alzheimer’s. She must have forgotten about the dog. While I waited by the door, Aaron ran into the kitchen and found dog food and a bowl.

  “What’re you doing?” I said.

  “We can’t leave him here—he’ll starve.”

  “Come on, Aaron. Don’t we have enough to—” When I saw the look on his face, I relented. “Sure, why not?” I said.

  As Aaron headed for the door carrying the dog, I heard a shriek. One of the undead—a mailman in blue shorts and shirt, with no pith helmet—had found us. Its ear had been torn off, the head still bleeding. Before Aaron could raise his weapon, it grabbed him by the head and dragged him outside. The dog leapt out of Aaron’s arms and, barking frantically, ran around in circles.

  I dropped everything except my gun and went outside. There was only the one, and it was trying to bite Aaron in the face, but the kid kept blocking it with his rifle.

  “Dave, help me!”

  I ran up to the thing, put the barrel of my gun in its exposed ear canal and fired, hoping the bullet would miss Aaron.

  The blood spray left a star pattern on the asphalt. The creature went limp as Aaron skittered away, waving his arms like he was in a bee swarm. The sound of the gunshot sent the dog running and yiping. We watched him disappear down the street.

  “Are you bit?” I said, checking myself for wounds.

  “I don’t think so.” He was breathing hard and patting all around his head. “What about the dog?”

  Something caught my eye, and I looked up. A horde of undead was headed towards us, attracted by the gunshot.

  “We need to get out of here,” I said, handing Aaron his gun.

  “Shit!”

  At first they didn’t see us. Then one of them shrieked and started towards us. The others followed in a frenzy.

  “Take out as many as you can,” I said. “We need to get to the truck.”

  “I don’t know if I can …”

  “Dude, don’t die out here.”

  I took aim and kneecapped one of them. It kept coming, dragging its bad leg. Taking a breath, I aimed for the head. It went down. Aaron watched me, then did the same with the others.

  “Come on,” I said.

  We ran towards the truck. Thankfully I’d left it unlocked. Aaron jumped into the passenger seat. As I opened my door, a raw, grey hand grabbed me. Several of these creatures were on me, and I tried swinging my shotgun.

  I knew then I was going to die in the street without ever seeing Holly again. All because I tried to help an old woman, proving for all eternity that no good deed goes unpunished.

  As the creatures snapped and clawed at me, I managed to fire a few rounds. Across the street, I saw a
man who looked to be in his fifties, wearing sweatpants and a bloodstained undershirt, his face splattered in blood. He stood there, dazed, staring at me.

  “Help me!”

  I felt someone grab my shoulder. It was Aaron. He pulled me out of the way and shot each one of the marauding creatures in the head. The kid was boss.

  When it was over, we stood in the middle of the street looking at the carnage. The man who had been watching me raised a handgun to his chin and, his eyes never leaving me, pulled the trigger.

  The gunfire got louder as we neared the high school. We heard screaming and shouting voices. Turning onto the street in front of the high school, we found that the front gate had been overrun. Hundreds of the undead surrounded the gym. I stopped in the middle of the street and watched as the horde pulled at the doors, shrieking and climbing over one another to get inside.

  Soldiers on the roof shot them one after another, but we knew it was a matter of time. Soldiers and civilians on the ground would soon join the ranks of the undead. We already saw recently dead soldiers pulling themselves up off the ground and jerkily making their way towards the entrance. Landry was right. The people inside the gym didn’t stand a dead drunk’s chance.

  As I turned the truck around, I saw the motor home barreling towards us. Landry had had the good sense to park it out on the street, away from the gym. He pulled up next to me, opened the door and called across.

  “Ben and I barely made it out,” he said. “We need to get away from here.”

  “Where to?”

  “Got to get some supplies.”

  As we drove away, we passed ten or twelve Humvees and LMTVs heading for the high school. We knew it was too late. The Black Dragon soldiers had conveniently gathered enough victims to feed a thousand of the undead.

  My cell phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw it light up as text messages and voice mails flooded in. The last text read Where r u? My heart leapt—it was from Holly. I pulled over to call her.