I don’t know how long we were at it—it seemed like hours. My back and arms ached, and I felt I didn’t have the strength to lift the axe again. As the soldiers and I cleared a path to escape, I found Warnick and Springer, out of ammo and skewering draggers in the head with their bayonets.
“Going old school?” I said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Warnick said.
We had enough time to make it to the gate before the draggers recovered and chased us. All the prisoners were dead, including the other women. From what I could tell, we had lost over half our men. The rest of us made it back to the Humvees.
When Warnick, Springer and I reached ours, we found a heavily armed soldier dragging Griffin, Nanette and Jonathan—all screaming—from the vehicle. As Griffin emerged, he tore the weapon from her hands.
“Hey,” Warnick said as we approached.
The soldier turned and fired on us, sending us scattering among the vehicles, while Griffin, Nanette and Jonathan lay cringing on the ground. I glanced at my shoulder and saw I was bleeding. As an intense wave of pain and nausea overcame me, I heard the sound of the Humvee starting.
I scanned the area. Warnick and Springer were both crouched behind the vehicle across from me. Warnick held up three fingers. Then two. Then one.
The three of us stood in unison, opening fire on the Humvee as it lurched forward. Windshield glass exploded as the vehicle sped past. It lost control and crashed into a maintenance shed. As we moved towards the Humvee, the soldier emerged, his face and upper body bloody.
It was Ormand Ferry.
He staggered towards the gymnasium, firing at us randomly. Using the other buildings as cover, we followed as he emptied his AR-15, then switched to a handgun.
At the entrance to the gym, he stood erect and faced us, his shirt drenched in blood.
“No way out, Ormand,” Warnick said.
“There’s always a way out.” Then, his eyes never leaving ours, he raised the handgun and jammed the barrel under his chin.
Before he could pull the trigger, draggers emerged from the gym and took him down. We watched as they grabbed his arms and legs and, finally, head. Shrieks of ululating panic echoed as they carried him back into the darkness of the gym.
Though I’d lost a lot of blood that day, my wound wasn’t life threatening, and I recovered. Over the next few weeks, we continued to rid the town of draggers. Though we knew there were many still left in the forests, we felt good that at least part of Tres Marias was secure.
Holly, Griffin and I were inseparable. We were a family. We even had a family dog. Never mind that she was trained to kill.
We—Warnick, Springer, Holly, Griffin and I—stood on the roof looking down at the empty streets that surrounded our building. Though things were better, we knew in our hearts that the nightmare was far from over.
Warnick was a rock. He told us we’d have to continue fighting for who knew how long. Sorties to find food, water and medicine would have to be made. We would surely lose more soldiers along the way. But—and this was what Warnick believed—we would make it. His courage gave us hope.
Someone in the building had found a way to play music. I heard “I’ll Stand by You” by the Pretenders echoing up the stairwell. It sounded right.
In the distance, I saw what I thought was Jim’s dog, Perro. Huge and bloody, he stared at me, challenging me to continue on and discover the truth about what had gone wrong in Tres Marias. Holly saw him too and took my hand.
I didn’t know what was in store for us as I looked at the distant flames of burning buildings and heard the death shrieks of draggers newly turned. But I felt I had my family beside me.
The faces of those we lost along the way paraded before me like prisoners in a death camp. I missed them terribly. But we had to keep moving forward. None of us knew when the end would come—or how. And though we knew what it was like to see Death coming, we didn’t know what it would be like to be dead yet not dead. However, we were strong and of a single mind. We lived and died for one another, no matter what.
We were one.
“GUYS, YOU HAVE GOT to see this.”
Springer explained as we rode the elevator to the top floor, where there was an executive conference room. We’d never used this room, assuming it was identical to the one downstairs. Then Springer discovered that it was equipped with a video-conferencing system and went in search of someone who knew how to get it working.
“Are you ready?” he said, posing dramatically outside the walnut double doors.
“Springer, enough,” Warnick said.
Undeterred, Springer flung the doors open. When we walked in, we saw her face looking down at us from the giant flat-screen monitor.
Evie Champagne.
She stood before the camera, shaken. Next to her was her cameraman, Jeff. Both looked thin and sickly, but they were alive.
At the conference table, an IT guy who worked for Arkon fiddled with the tablet computer that controlled the system. Typical IT—he didn’t look happy.
“How were you able to reach them?” I said.
“They’re over in our satellite office across town,” the IT guy said. “I tried everything in the address book and this one lit up. They must’ve been working on it from their side.”
“Where’s the sound?” Griffin said.
“We can’t get it to work,” Springer said. The IT guy appeared to chafe at the word we.
After several more frustrating minutes, Holly found some blank copier paper and a dry-erase marker, which she handed to Warnick. In large letters he wrote WHERE ARE YOU? and held the paper up to the camera.
Jeff moved out of frame and returned with a pad of flip-chart paper. On it he had scribbled the address of the satellite office.
We told them where we were. Then we asked IS ANYONE ELSE WITH YOU?
NO. EVERYONE IS DEAD.
Warnick looked at us, then wrote ARE YOU SAFE?
NO. NOT SAFE. DON’T HAVE MUCH MORE TIME. NEED TO GET OUT.
“We have to help them,” Holly said.
Warnick nodded and continued. CAN YOU WAIT TILL WE CAN GET TO YOU?
DON’T KNOW. THEY’RE EVERYWHERE.
Warnick wrote WE HAVE WEAPONS AND FOOD. TELL US WHERE TO MEET YOU.
Evie said something to Jeff and started to write. Then she and the cameraman stared off camera like they heard something. When Evie looked at us again, there was pure terror in her eyes.
We watched helplessly as she and the cameraman moved in and out of frame gathering up supplies. Before abandoning the room, Evie scribbled something on the back of the flip chart paper and held it up.
I recognized the words. ROBBIN-SEAR INDUSTRIES, OLD ORCHARD ROAD.
These were the same words written on the side of the van Bob Creasy was driving when he picked me up after my car accident. Was this where they were headed?
Her hand shaking, Evie wrote something else. The words chilled me to my soul.
WE KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.
Then they were gone.
Copyright © 2013 by Steven Ramirez.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at stevenramirez.com/permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Tell Me When I’m Dead / Steven Ramirez — 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-9898718-0-8
A SIMPLE ASK
Thank you for read
ing my novel. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now that you’ve finished it, I have an ask.
Will you take a few minutes to write an online review?
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Honest reviews are crucial for a writer. They connect us with our readers and provide important insights into how we are progressing in our craft. And don’t worry if you didn’t like the book. I’d still like to hear from you. Really.
Thank you again, dear reader.
MORE FICTION BY STEVEN RAMIREZ
Dead Is All You Get:
Book Two of THE DEAD SERIES
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
“Walker,” a short story
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
“A Bone in the Throat,” a short story
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A number of outstanding people made this novel possible. First and foremost I want to thank my family—Corinne, Gabby and Candy—for putting up with me during the writing process. To those of you who have a writer in the family, you know what I’m talking about.
I’d like to thank Neal Hock, who did a marvelous job editing the book. Also thanks to Deborah Bradseth for the beautiful cover design. And finally JW Manus for her amazing formatting skills.
A special thank-you goes out to Kevin Asmus, who was gracious enough to allow me to use his powerful work Last Man Standing for the cover. Interesting story there. I was trolling around the web for an image that would capture the spirit of the book. After an exhaustive search, I was ready to hire a model and shoot the photo myself. Then I discovered Kevin’s creation—it was perfect.
I also want to thank my beta readers—especially authors Aaron Dennis and Emma Meade, who offered important suggestions and insights. And my friend and retired police captain Wayne Fritz, who provided a number of technical details about police work.
The following quote appears in the book and is attributed to the author Doug Coupland:
Your ability to rationalize your own bad deeds makes you believe that the whole world is as amoral as you are.
Two Bible passages appear in this work, one from Psalm 79 and the other from Colossians. Both were taken from the Standard King James Version which, if you’re interested, can be found at www.kingjamesbibleonline.org
I dedicated this novel to George A. Romero and John A. Russo because, like a lot of kids, I grew up with Night of the Living Dead. Their screenplay has everything I have ever wanted in a zombie movie, although these things were never referred to as zombies—they were ghouls. And like that iconic film, I wanted my story to start small. It gave me a chance to delve into the characters rather than relying on spectacle.
Richard Matheson’s seminal work I Am Legend was also a strong influence. If you haven’t read it, I urge you to do so soon. The antagonists are not zombies but vampires. Nevertheless, the idea of a man struggling to survive alone in a world gone insane is powerful. The book is beautifully written and is as much a pleasure to read today as it was when it was first published in the 1950s.
THE PLAYLIST
Okay, now for some fun! Here is a playlist of songs relating to this novel. The ones marked with an asterisk are mentioned in the book. The rest are thematic to the story. I hope you find them entertaining.
1. “Someone Like You” by ADELE *
2. “Helter Skelter” by The Beatles *
3. “Beyond the Sea” by Bobby Darrin *
4. “Catch the Wind” by Donovan *
5. “Island in the Sun” by Weezer *
6. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana *
7. “Loser” by Beck *
8. “Fight for Your Right” by The Beastie Boys *
9. “Good Riddance” by Green Day *
10. “Enter Sandman” by Metallica *
11. “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston *
12. “I’ll Stand by You” by The Pretenders *
13. “Zombie” by The Cranberries
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
You can connect with Steven on
Twitter:
twitter.com/byStevenRamirez
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/StevenRamirezWriter
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/StevenRamirez
Google+:
plus.google.com/+StevenRamirezWriter
Amazon Author Page:
amazon.com/author/stevenramirez
Steven’s website and blog can be found at stevenramirez.com.
Steven uses Authorgraph to connect personally with readers. Request an Authorgraph to receive a personalized inscription that you can view in your favorite reading apps and devices.
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STEVEN RAMIREZ began writing seriously as a sophomore in high school, concentrating on that time-honored vehicle of teen outrage and simmering hormones—poetry. Each week, he created these verses and “borrowed” the school’s copier equipment, which allowed him to distribute his work to the unsuspecting world. He still owes the high school twenty-eight bucks for supplies, so please don’t tell anyone.
In college, he dabbled in short stories and filmmaking, all to avoid working on his actual major—music. After a trip to the UK and Spain, where he learned that Californians really do have an accent, he returned to the states and graduated with a BA in music, which helped him land a job answering phones.
Eventually, Steven began writing screenplays, mostly because everyone else in LA is writing a screenplay. It’s the law—look it up. If you are not at least “working” on a screenplay, they banish you to South Orange County, where you can take up surfing. Come to think of it, they might have rewritten that law, but you wouldn’t know it visiting Starbucks. What set him apart, though, is that for a while he had an agent. He still didn’t sell anything, though. Agents are like lawyers. Unless there are crisp, new thousand dollar bills nailed to your forehead, they tend not to return your calls.
Then came a fateful meeting with the Davids—David Rimawi and David Latt of The Asylum, the prolific studio responsible for ‘Sharknado.’ These fine gentlemen read Steven’s work and decided to take a chance. The result was the horror-thriller film ‘Killers.’ It was funny, bloody and action-filled, and featured a young Paul Logan, who has gone on to enjoy a nice movie career while Steven became old, embittered and … wait, that’s somebody else’s life.
Tired of hawking screenplays, Steven returned to short stories. Though over the years he had written several novels—none of which were published—he decided to try again and in 2013 published Tell Me When I’m Dead, a zombie thriller. In 2014, he followed up with the sequel, Dead Is All You Get, and is hard at work on the last book of THE DEAD SERIES trilogy.
In addition to writing, Steven is a pretend musician, having written songs and played in bands since high school. He started on the accordion long before it was popular, then graduated to the piano. Thankfully, he decided to give up music and focus on writing.
Steven lives in Los Angeles with his lovely, long-suffering wife and two beautiful daughters. He has a highly distracted Shi Tzu who insists bananas are a major food group. He enjoys Mike and Ikes with his Iced Caffè Americano, doesn’t sleep on planes and wishes Europe were closer.
CONTENTS
1: In the Shit
2: Rabid
3: We’re Not Done
4: Jim’s Place
5: The Missy Problem
6: This Isn’t Happening
7: Mayhem
8: Blooding
9: The Lake
10: Man In the Silver Suit
11: Hell’s Waiting Room
12: Free Fallin’
13: The Comp
any You Keep
14: Chavez
15: Still Not Undead
16: The Woods Are Full of Them
17: Betrayed
18: Desperate Times
19: The Skating Party
20: People Die—Hope Doesn’t
21: Wanda
22: Burning Men
23: Sweat Bees Don’t Lie
24: The Interview
25: Life For a Life
26: Zombie Weather
27: Full Circle
A Simple Ask
Acknowledgments
The Playlist
About the Author
Table of Contents
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1: In the Shit
Chapter 2: Rabid
Chapter 3: We're Not Alone
Chapter 4: Jim's Place
Chapter 5: The Missy Problem
Chapter 6: This Isn't Happening
Chapter 7: Mayhem
Chapter 8: Blooding
Chapter 9: The Lake
Chapter 10: Man in the Silver Suit
Chapter 11: Hell's Waiting Room
Chapter 12: Free Fallin'
Chapter 13: The Company You Keep
Chapter 14: Chavez
Chapter 15: Still Not Undead
Chapter 16: The Woods Are Full of Them
Chapter 17: Betrayed
Chapter 18: Desperate Times
Chapter 19: The Skating Party
Chapter 20: People Die - Hope Doesn't
Chapter 21: Wanda
Chapter 22: Burning Men
Chapter 23: Sweat Bees Don't Lie
Chapter 24: The Interview
Chapter 25: Life for a Life
Chapter 26: Zombie Weather
Chapter 27: Full Circle
Copyright Information
A Simple Ask
Acknowledgments
The Playlist
About the Author
The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead Page 28
