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

by Steven Ramirez

  The sound was high and piercing. Emergency lighting pulsed relentlessly in our rooms and in the hallways. Outside, the dogs barked ferociously. I woke, adrenaline coursing through my blood. Holly and I grabbed our weapons and joined everyone else in the basement as we had rehearsed.

  Landry and Ram were already huddled around the monitors, assessing the situation.

  “They must’ve hiked in,” Landry said. “Look.”

  Men dressed in dark clothing came into view. I couldn’t believe that one of them was about to test the fence.

  “Can’t they see the warning sign?” Aaron said.

  “There is an energizer on that fence,” Ram said. “The voltage is very strong.”

  “Did you release the dogs?” I said.

  Ram shook his head. “I was afraid they might be shot.”

  We watched as the moron tried climbing the fence, which whipped up the dogs even more. As soon as his hands made contact, he flew off, screaming silently. The others helped him up, and they all backed away.

  “What do we do?” Ben said.

  “We wait,” Landry said, his eyes never leaving the monitors.

  The men scattered like rodents. Now there were only three of them in front of the house. We switched cameras manually, trying to find the rest. The monitors showed that the other four had split up, two on each side of the house.

  “Even if they can’t find a way, they could go back and tell others,” Landry said. “If enough of them show up, they could overpower us.”

  “Should we kill them?” Ben said.

  “Thinking about it,” Landry said.

  “I don’t want to kill anyone unless they give us a reason,” Holly said.

  “I agree,” Ram said.

  These guys may have been dumb, but they were persistent. For the next thirty minutes they inspected every inch of the fence. Then something happened.

  An undead dressed as a UPS driver shuffled up the road and into the glare of the floodlights, surprising one of the three men watching the front of the house. Before the other two could stop it, the creature bit the man on the neck as the other two tried pulling it off.

  One of the men smashed the butt of his rifle into the dead thing’s skull. It teetered and fell back. They raised their guns and shot it through the neck and head. The other men rejoined the group, as their wounded partner lay writhing on the ground, blood gushing from his neck, next to the still body of the undead.

  Though there was no sound, we could see the victim crying out. We wanted to do something, but our eyes never left the monitors. One of the men said something to the others. Then two of them opened fire on their injured friend, with a final shot to the head.

  The scene was sickening. Holly turned away, and I touched her shoulder. I looked back at the monitors as the remaining men dragged the body away. A horde of undead appeared and moved in. The startled men shot at them, but others attacked from the sides. It was like watching a silent movie.

  In the confusion, several of the men were bit as still more creatures appeared. The others continued firing on the horde and, one by one, ran out of ammo. Those who had been bitten died. Moments later, they rose and joined the horde.

  “They’re turning faster,” I said.

  “We need to do something,” Holly said.

  Landry shook his head. “No, they’re the enemy. Like those damned creatures.”

  Holly looked away.

  We watched as the last man shot one of the undead in the face—but not before he was bit. As the rest of the horde moved in, he looked down at his arm, drew his hunting knife and slashed his own throat, collapsing against the electrified fence.

  The undead left standing pressed against the fence. The powerful voltage shot through them but left them unaffected. They repeatedly pushed against the fence. It was comical to watch as the electricity made their bodies dance like marionettes and then they fell away from the fence. Finally, they wandered off into the forest.

  None of us slept after that, so I made us a pot of coffee. Though I felt remorse for not helping those men, I felt an even stronger urge to protect our group. They were trespassers and meant to harm us, even to kill us. Sometimes surviving means you have to make hard choices—even if someone else ends up dying. Though this sounded reasonable in my head, it did nothing to take away the ache in my gut.

  We sat in the kitchen, chilled to the bone. Holly kept to herself. Several times I tried comforting her, but she pulled away as if I had been responsible for the carnage. Maybe we were all guilty. Landry tried putting a bow on it.

  “They were trying to kill us and take the house,” he said.

  “Otherwise, why did they try shooting out the lights and cameras?” Ben said.

  “We could’ve at least given them a chance,” Holly said. “Killed some of that horde so they could get away.”

  “They might have killed us,” Ram said. “We will never know.”

  I recalled something I once read. Your ability to rationalize your own bad deeds makes you believe that the whole world is as amoral as you are.

  “What about the bodies?” Aaron said.

  Ben looked at his son, his face set. “Leave them. As a warning to others.”

  Two days later Black Dragon showed up. Two Humvees pulled up next to the bollards and approximately a dozen soldiers got out carrying AR-15s. This was it. We were being evicted. They were here to take over the building by force.

  We watched them on the monitors as they talked among themselves and pointed at the main building. Two of them examined the dead bodies, which lay wet and bloated in the hot August sun, covered in flies and, I’m sure, reeking like Lucifer’s butthole.

  “What do we do?” Ben said.

  Landry watched them for a time. I knew that look—he was cooking something up.

  “Irwin?” I said.

  “We need to get ahead of the situation,” he said. “If they wanted to do a full frontal assault, there would be no way for us to defend ourselves. So we might as well see what they want.”

  “Yes,” Ram said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  By the time we opened the front door, weapons in hand, the soldiers had terminated two undead wandering out of the forest.

  “Hello?” Ram said to them.

  We stopped halfway to the fence and waited for them to acknowledge us. Our weapons were at our sides, and we tried to show a sense of calm. Ben and Aaron stayed in the house. We had no clue which way this was going.

  One of the soldiers walked to the gate and looked at it. I recognized him from the television interview with Evie Champagne.

  “The fence has been deactivated,” I said.

  “Are you the owner of this house?”

  “I am,” Ram said, stepping forward.

  “We’re from Black Dragon.”

  “We know,” Landry said.

  “I’m Chavez, the supervisor in charge of this operation. Why haven’t you people evacuated with the others? Aren’t you concerned about getting sick?”

  “Mr. Chavez,” Landry said, “we know what you guys have been telling the civilians. With all due respect, we prefer to stay.”

  The soldier studied him a moment, and his mouth slid into a lazy grin. “Yeah, I get it. But we have our orders. Everyone who’s still healthy needs to be evacuated to a shelter.”

  “And if we don’t?” I said.

  “We’re authorized to use force.”

  Holly broke away from us and strode up to the fence. What in hell did she think she was doing? I started after her, but Landry motioned for me to stay back.

  “Why don’t you come inside and we can talk about this,” she said. “Okay?”

  Chavez looked at my wife, smiled like he wanted to take her clothes off and said, “Sure.”

  Another soldier came forward. “Sir, are you sure this is safe?”

  “Wait here,” he said. Then to Holly, “Is this safe?”

  She smiled at him like a freshman invited to the senior prom. It m
ade my blood boil. Instead of saying something, I sucked it up and waited for Ram to open the gate, then I returned to the house with the others.

  We sat around the kitchen table drinking sodas. Chavez was older than me, late twenties. Good-looking, fit. His teeth were white enough to be in a toothpaste commercial. I hated him.

  “As you can see, we’re fixed up pretty good here,” Landry said. “Plenty of food, water and ammunition. We have a generator for power, and the building is secure.”

  “I thought I heard dogs.”

  Ram smiled. “German shepherds.”

  “The group talked this over, and we feel we’ll do better if we stay put,” Landry said. “Who knows what kind of hell we’ll find out there.”

  “Right,” the soldier said, getting up and poking his nose into different rooms as we followed. “How long do you think you can hold out?”

  “Six months or longer,” Landry said. The soldier stopped at the stairs leading to the basement. “We can hole up down there if necessary. Plenty of guns and supplies.”

  “You guys aren’t Red Militia, are you?”

  “No,” Landry said. “You’re dealing with rational people here. We want to make it through this thing.”

  Chavez peered down the stairs. “I don’t know.”

  “Mr. Chavez,” Holly said. “May I ask how many people know about this house?”

  “Well, all of my directs. Don’t know about the locals.”

  “Look, we have it good up here,” I said. “High up where we can pretty much see everything.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Pretty sweet.”

  “You guys are on the ground,” Ben said. “Getting surprised by the undead whenever they show, as well as by the looters.”

  “You got that right.”

  “And what about the Red Militia?” Holly said. “That’s who we think attacked us a couple of nights ago.”

  Chavez shook his head and returned to the kitchen. “I’ve lost sixteen men already to those nailheads.”

  “‘Nailheads’?” Landry said.

  “It’s what we call those sons of bitches.”

  “And the undead?” I couldn’t help asking.

  Chavez looked at each of us and grinned. “Draggers,” he said.

  We sat again. Landry set his drink aside, folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “So what if we were to join forces?”

  “I’m listening,” the supervisor said.

  “You leave a few men up here with us, and we help you with intel on everything that’s going on around the area.”

  “Or we could force you to evacuate and take over the location,” Chavez said matter-of-factly.

  “Or I could blow your head off right here and leave your body for the draggers,” I said, gripping my weapon.

  “Dave, please,” Holly said. “Can’t you see Mr. Chavez is a reasonable person?” This kind of talk made me sick. “He wants what we want—for him and his men to come out of this alive.”

  I stood down, swallowing the bile creeping up my throat. Chavez thought about the offer for a few minutes, then after draining his Red Bull, he shook everyone’s hand and headed for the front door, with the rest of us right behind.

  “So do we have a deal?” Landry said as Chavez opened the door.

  He turned and smiled at Holly with a big, toothy grin, which made her blush. I wanted to use my axe on him. “Yeah, let’s give it a try.”

  We watched from the yard as all the soldiers left. That evening, one Humvee returned carrying four soldiers. Like I figured, Chavez was among them. Fun times ahead.

  In a show of good faith, the soldiers brought us food, water and ammunition. They agreed to sleep in the basement, near the command center. Ram found extra cots for them.

  I wasn’t sure I trusted these guys. What was to stop them from gaining our confidence, taking us hostage and turning over the facility to Black Dragon? Landry thought the same thing but came to the conclusion that, if that was their plan, they could have taken over anyway and killed us in the process.

  Holly had a different view. She knew how valuable our base was to these men. Keeping us happy and safe was a small price to pay. Why not go along with the arrangement? Everybody wins.

  I had to admit there was an advantage to having the extra men. It meant fewer guard-duty shifts.

  “So you think this was a good idea?” I said to Holly as she brushed her teeth.

  “I guess. With all this unrest, what choice do we have?”

  “‘Unrest’? That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, grinning as toothpaste ran down her chin.

  She wore a lacy butter-yellow camisole, which I remembered from the old days. As she flossed in front of the bathroom mirror, I saw the outline of her breasts. It made me ache—I had to look away.

  During our time together in this place Holly didn’t outright avoid me or treat me rudely. But she wasn’t—how do women like to put it? She wasn’t emotionally available to me. On one level, I regretted my choice to stay with the group. It was becoming too painful. On another level, I pretty much knew what my chances were alone on the outside.

  “I wonder if Enrique is married,” she said as she rubbed lotion on her hands and elbows.

  “Who’s Enrique?” I said, a knot forming in my stomach.

  “Chavez.”

  “How should I know?” I said, rage boiling inside me. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Maybe I will,” she said without looking at me.

  I decided to take a walk past the kennel. At first the dogs barked and snarled. When they saw me, they whined and waited to be petted.

  “You guys are pushovers,” I said.

  It was cool outside. I went back to the front of the house and looked up at the night sky. Here, alone in this place, things seemed so normal. There were still a moon and stars and a soft breeze coming from the north. An owl hooted somewhere in the darkness. Two nighthawks swooped into view, chirping. Then I heard a death shriek, and I knew that things were not normal—might never be normal again. Soon coyotes joined in, caterwauling together like some demonic chorus.

  I tried not to think about our chances for survival. I knew things were bad, but I wasn’t as pessimistic as Ben. I thought of Jim and of Missy and of countless others who’d been infected, died and come back to kill. I knew that outside the electric fence Death lay in wait for us all. And it was in the form of draggers or nailheads or other survivors like us, fighting to hold on to something rapidly slipping away—a normal way of life.

  Some kind of movement outside the gate tripped the floodlights, and the dogs became alert. It was stupid of me to be out there alone. Not because of the draggers. If any nailheads saw me, they might be tempted to shoot out of fear and anger.

  What I saw in those bright lights was a family of raccoons. The soldiers had removed the bodies from the gate area and burned them in a freshly dug fire pit. Ignoring the barking dogs, the raccoons scavenged through the pit—the wood still smoldering, the smell dark and sweet—looking for morsels of cooked flesh. I heard them tearing at it. It was the sound of mortality.

  Life and Death, I thought. And at this moment Death was winning.

  THINGS STAYED TENSE BETWEEN Holly and me. She didn’t outright flirt with Chavez, but I saw her temperature go up whenever he was around. From what I could see, he appeared to remain neutral towards her. Maybe I misjudged him.

  Each morning Chavez left without breakfast at around six to join the rest of the troops in town. But not before reminding us of the basics for staying safe, which included proper food preparation, handling and maintaining weapons and avoiding STDs. In no time we had these rules memorized and chanted along with him. Sometimes our voices were nasal, other times we used fake accents. One time, someone farted in the middle of the recitation.

  The three remaining soldiers—Quigley, who went by the name “Quigs,” Yang and Warnick—organized patrols through the surrounding forest to loo
k for draggers.

  Quigs and Yang were around the same age, early twenties. They seemed likable enough, and enjoyed joking with each other and playing Call of Duty. Sometimes their exchanges were uncomfortable, but they got along well. Yang liked to call Quigs “TT” or “T-Squared,” and Quigs referred to Yang as “DWA” or, more often, “DW.” Later I learned that TT was for trailer trash and DWA was for driving while Asian.

  Warnick, on the other hand, seemed like a veteran, though he couldn’t have been more than thirty. He never smiled and was a huge fan of Weezer, especially “Island in the Sun.”

  One day I found him disassembling his AR-15. “What are you doing?”

  “Replacing the stock so I can bump-fire. During a civil disturbance we’re permitted to use only semiautomatic weapons.”

  “I’d say we’re way past civil disturbance.”

  “I’d say you’re right.”

  “So do you have a family or …”

  “I don’t like chitchat much.”

  “Huh.” I felt like an ass.

  At first I thought hunting draggers was insane. Warnick told us we needed to eliminate as many as possible to prevent the spread of disease. After the second day, I decided to join the soldiers on patrol. Mostly it was out of boredom. How many repeat episodes of Say Yes to the Dress and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo could a person watch? Ram wanted to join us, but I insisted he remain behind so he could be in charge of our base. He seemed to see the wisdom in that and reluctantly agreed.

  Usually we’d find one or two draggers and dispatch them with a single shot to the head. I was getting pretty good with the shotgun, but I kept my axe as backup, slung over my back with a rope. Landry came dressed in his shark suit. He wasn’t taking any chances. Good thing, because one day we met up with a horde.

  Something you need to know about draggers. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean they can’t move fast. It made no sense. After death, rigor mortis sets in, then disappears. The body bloats with gases afterwards. Not with these things, though. Many became lean, almost athletic.