Dying Days [Book 9]

by Armand Rosamilia

  Tosha opened up a gash in the first man’s cheek with her nails and thought she’d broken one of their jaws with a punch that nearly broke her hand but there were four of them.

  One got a good shot to the back of her head and she went down on one knee. As she started to rise, her leg was kicked out from under her and she fell onto her ass.

  A kick to her face rattled her teeth and made her see stars and she went down hard, slamming her head to the ground.

  They pounced like cowards, throwing punches and stomping her with their boots.

  Tosha rolled onto her side. Maybe if she could crawl to the water she could go under. Be lost in the darkness. Swim to safety or at least let the current sweep her away from this beating.

  “Where ya going, Red?”

  Rough hands grabbed her by the back of her jeans and yanked her a foot off the ground, depositing her roughly down again. A hard kick to her side kept her down.

  “You said you wanted to party. I say we all take turns partying with you.”

  Tosha rolled onto her side. Maybe she could pull one of them down and take his weapon. Fight her way out of this before she was raped and killed or left for the zombies.

  Who would rape and kill her.

  “Let’s just get this over with. I’m sure you all have small cocks, so figure out which has the biggest. He can go first so maybe I’ll feel it,” she said, hoping to bait them into getting closer.

  One of the men pulled down his pants and waved his dick at Tosha. “You saying this ain’t big enough, bitch?”

  Tosha squinted. “I don’t see it. You sure that’s not a pussy you’re playing with?”

  His friends laughed as he charged Tosha, swinging his foot to kick her.

  She grabbed his boot and yanked him as hard as she could, smiling when he landed hard on his back.

  Before his asshole buddies could recover, she was on the loser, one hand searching his pockets and hands for a weapon, while the other grabbed and squeezed his balls as hard as she could.

  Tosha took a knee to the face and was stunned, releasing her grip.

  She tried to roll over and bring her knees up to protect her body but the men were on her with kicks.

  “I still want to have a piece of her so don’t kill the bitch yet,” one of the men said.

  “I’m not putting my dick anywhere near her. She’ll bite it off.”

  “We need to knock her out and then do it. Much safer.”

  Tosha was starting to lose consciousness. The pain was unbearable.

  She decided to stop struggling and let them do what they needed to do in order for her to get another chance to fight them off and survive.

  Had she come this close to getting back across the river to help, only to be killed by these assholes? The irony to her was the old Tosha would’ve been miles away by now.

  Thoughts flooded her mind. All of the men and women she’d killed since the world had taken a shit on everyone. Some she had no business killing. Some she’d done for her own personal gain. Others when she just wanted to be as violent as she could be.

  Tosha knew she wasn’t going to Heaven. She just wanted to stay out of Hell as long as possible.

  She had her eyes closed and was holding her breath.

  They flipped her over and kept kicking, even though she’d stopped fighting.

  If this was it, she needed to be okay with it. Needed to clear her mind and take ownership of everything she’d ever done wrong in her life.

  She wanted to see her sister, Mathyu. Had she gone to Heaven or Hell?

  One of the men was between her legs but she still had her jeans on.

  She felt something sharp touch her thigh and opened her eyes to see the man, leering with a feral look in his eyes, holding a blade near her crotch.

  “Let me take them off,” Tosha said. “It’s my only pair of jeans.”

  “Once we’re all done taking a turn, you won’t need them anymore,” he said.

  Tosha didn’t want to die like this. Shot by a bullet was one thing. Even being eaten by a zombie would be better than this party.

  She wondered how many people got the chance to choose their death.

  She had an older cousin who’d been run over by a bus in Harrisburg when she was around twelve years old. He’d been reading the newspaper and took a step forward without realizing how close he was to the busy street. The bus somehow hooked his coat as it went past and he was dragged underneath, crushed as the bus tried to stop.

  He hadn’t known his death was coming.

  Tosha couldn’t even remember his name now.

  She knew her death was imminent.

  Tosha smiled.

  The guy frowned. “What the fuck is wrong with you. Are you crazy, bitch?”

  “Oh, I’m definitely crazy. But you’re crazier if you think that tiny cock pressed against my thigh will make me so much as notice when it’s inside. You might as well use the blade because your three inches aren’t going to do much.” Tosha took a deep breath, knowing it might be her last. She was fine with it. A few seconds of saying what she needed to say was worth dying sooner.

  He raised his fist to punch her in the face when something wet and obnoxious sounded behind them.

  Tosha managed to roll out of the way as soon as the guy rose off her.

  His body fell back and slammed to the ground next to Tosha, his face ripped from the left eye down to the right corner of his mouth. Blood spurted from his gaping wound.

  There was a gunshot followed by a few grunts.

  Tosha flipped up onto her feet, searching the darkness for the enemy and a weapon.

  “Relax. I killed them. All of them. Let’s get their shit and get the fuck out of here.” Jada stepped into the moonlight with a grin. “Unless you want me to keep going and put you down like a dog.”

  “I’d rather live if it’s all the same to you.” Tosha grabbed the knife the man had dropped, as well as two pistols and a baseball bat. You could never have enough weapons. “Why’d you save me? These assholes were busy. You could’ve kept running.”

  Jada shook her head. “I was never running. I led these bastards all over the city. Killing them one and two at a time. Because it’s fun.”

  Tosha didn’t know the woman well. She’d been briefly introduced to Jada before the shit hit the fan like it always did. She knew from the beginning Jada was a stone cold killer.

  She was glad. “I think I’ll follow your lead. Are we trying to get across the river to save Profit and everyone else?”

  Jada shook her head. “They’re already dead.” She pointed across the water and Tosha saw the many fires. It cast an eerie glow on the river.

  “There could be survivors.”

  “More than likely we’ll fight to get to their dead bodies and the zombies or these assholes will add us to the pile. No thanks. I’m going to kill as many of them as I can before first light and then I’m heading north. As far north as I can get since it seems like all the zombies are going south,” Jada said.

  “You’re going to leave Profit to die?”

  Tosha could see Jada’s face. She was struggling with the thought of abandoning the man. There was a definite connection and it was painful to see Jada fighting it.

  “What if we head east and kill as many of them as we can? Maybe we’ll save a few of our people along the way,” Tosha said. “It’s worth a shot.”

  Jada looked like she was considering it when something south of where they stood exploded, the dull blast too far away to do anything other than let them know a war was still going strong around them.

  “The only thing worth anything is my life at this point. I’m going to find a hole to crawl into until this all blows over,” Jada said.

  Tosha was pissed. “You’re going to abandon everyone to save your own ass?”

  “You act like you’re not going to do the same thing,” Jada said and took a step back. “I’m not standing around having a discussion about morals with someone like you. I know
damn well you’ve done some messed up things to survive. I’m doing it, too.”

  Tosha wanted to argue but she couldn’t think of what to say to make Jada change her mind.

  Besides… the bitch was right. Up until recently Tosha would’ve been long gone.

  Jada gave Tosha the finger before running off into the darkness to the north.

  Chapter Five

  Where was Tosha?

  They’d settled on north of the bridge as their meeting point, right where they’d come across the river to see the groups gather.

  He’d waited for hours and she wasn’t here.

  Zombies, however, were everywhere right now.

  They kept coming east, walking right into the river.

  Hundreds in tight formation like an army. Row after row of them, some leaving trails of gore and blood and body parts in their wake.

  Twice he’d had to leave a hiding spot because the press of them had forced the tree he was in to collapse, the other time the vehicle he was underneath had been pushed into the river and he’d barely managed to swim further north in the muck.

  He was shivering despite the heat being released from the ground at night.

  There were palm trees overlooking the water but he’d be exposed to anyone alive.

  Mitch could run north and perhaps away from the humans and the zombies but all it would take was a pair of eyes with a gun or a cluster of undead and he would be trapped.

  By his estimation, he’d only traveled three or four blocks, circling to escape the marauders and the zombies.

  The glow on the horizon announced the coming dawn. It would be easier for Mitch to see who was around and to see the zombies, but they could also see where he was.

  If he wanted to get across the river, he’d need to do it before daybreak. Anyone with a rifle or a bow and arrow would easily kill him.

  Swimming it wasn’t an option, especially in the dark. The current, while weak near the shoreline, was too strong in the channel.

  For now he needed to keep his head down and hope the weeds on the shoreline would mask him. If anyone got within a few feet, however, they’d easily spot him.

  As if the fear of being caught wasn’t enough, at some point while he was running, his left shoe had burst open and he’d had to dump it behind. His socks were filthy and ripped in spots on the bottom.

  He was tired. Hungry. Dirty. Bloody and battered.

  Mitch knew he couldn’t go on for long in this condition.

  As if in answer, he heard gunshots from across the river.

  Stop being an asshole. They’re having a worse time of it than you, he thought.

  Someone was coming, moving slowly between the nearest buildings.

  It sounded like a lot of someones, in fact.

  Mitch actually hoped it was zombies, who’d be easy to dodge as long as they were clumped together and not moving in his general direction.

  No such luck.

  Four men, each armed with a rifle, appeared. They stopped, looking around.

  Mitch hoped it was still dark enough they couldn’t see him.

  If he had to, he’d make his last stand using his fists.

  Running with one shoe missing wasn’t an option.

  He didn’t have many options at this point.

  The Promised Land wasn’t within reach right now. Slipping into the water would give him a few minutes and some distance but, as soon as these guys heard a splash, they’d start shooting.

  Maybe they’d capture him, which would give Mitch some time to devise a plan. Knock one of them out and get a weapon.

  Another shoe.

  He felt like a fool for giving up. A failure. Throwing in the towel, while everyone he knew was getting slaughtered across the river, was the cowardly move.

  Screw that. I’ll die like a man, Mitch thought. He’d crawl as far as he could before the sun was too bright or they spotted him. Then he’d make his last stand. Damn the consequences.

  Mitch got six feet, trying not to make too much noise or shake too many of the weeds, when he heard the first shot.

  He was already on the ground with nowhere to go. He put his head down and hands on his head, knowing they made a poor helmet to block bullets.

  Six more shots went off.

  Mitch looked up after he realized he wasn’t hit.

  He smiled.

  Dozens of zombies were coming from the direction the armed men had come from.

  The shooting was over quickly. Mitch watched the men begin using their weapons as clubs. They’d only had a few bullets each. Against a horde this size they had no real shot.

  One of the men turned and ran.

  Right in the direction Mitch was hiding.

  As the man got a step or two from Mitch, he tried to stop short, staring at Mitch.

  Mitch thrust up with a fist and caught the man in the balls. As the man groaned, trying to cover up his manhood, Mitch grabbed him by the pant leg and yanked as hard as he could.

  The man face-planted onto the ground. Mitch lifted his head and slammed it down three times for good measure. Sure the man was dead or unconscious, Mitch searched the body for weapons. He found two knives.

  The rest of his group was retreating and they’d be too close to Mitch.

  Pocketing the knives, Mitch started moving back towards the water’s edge.

  One of the men ran past, only a few feet away, but his panic and the dawn, not yet arrived, helped Mitch stay hidden.

  The man jumped into the water.

  He was immediately attacked by zombies underwater, his screams echoing before he was pulled under.

  Mitch unconsciously drew his feet closer to his body and away from the water’s edge, aware he’d been in and out of it for hours. He knew what would’ve happened if he’d decided to swim across or dive into the river to escape.

  I’m not going to survive if I’m near the water, Mitch thought. The rest of the group hit the water; their splashing and shouting covering the noise of Mitch getting up and running through the weeds on the shoreline.

  There were too many zombies in the area but Mitch needed to keep moving, using the defensive fighting techniques he’d learned to keep them at bay and create a path through their numbers.

  As Mitch moved, he saw so many discarded weapons; it was tempting to stop and try to pick up something but he knew, if he slowed, he’d be overwhelmed.

  His knuckles were bloody from throwing so many punches and his boots and the front of his pants were covered in gore from striking so many of the undead.

  With three punches, he cleared the first wave and ran north, now trying to dodge as many as possible. They were far enough apart he could run and, as long as he didn’t trip or crash into one and slow down, he’d be fine.

  Mitch cleared the next wave with ease, glad he was in shape and the long night hadn’t made his thoughts fuzzy and his body weak.

  He heard gunfire to the west, maybe a few blocks away.

  Up ahead he saw the destroyed bridge to The Promised Land, now clear in the orange glow on the horizon. It was going to be another hot and cloudless Florida day.

  Mitch hoped it wasn’t going to be the last sunrise he’d be able to see.

  Clear of the most of the zombie horde, Mitch went in search of a boat, steering clear of the water until it was necessary.

  Chapter Six

  April closed her eyes when the banging began on the bottom floor of the bar.

  She was pressed close to her family and the last survivors, all huddled in one room and awaiting their deaths.

  Someone farted and they all giggled nervously.

  April covered her nose and wondered if it was her dad, who would pass gas if he was nervous but also to lighten the mood. It would be something he’d do.

  She could see Bernie and Profit closest to the door.

  Was there really only fifteen people left now? Her family was four of them.

  “We need to escape. We should rush the front door. They won’t be expec
ting it. If we stay in this room, they’ll kill us. Burn down the building,” Carlie, her sister, said.

  “No one leaves. We’re surrounded. There might be zombies twenty deep outside. Not to mention, even if we could get through them by some miracle, the damn living will stand back and pick us off one at a time. It isn’t safe,” Bernie said.

  “We stand and fight. Right here. Right now. Inside this room, there’s only one way in. We can hold it,” Profit said. He stared at each person in turn. “But they’ll need to work to get the door open. We’re not going down without a fight.”

  “Some of us don’t have weapons anymore,” someone said.

  “You have hands. Nails. Feet. Use your body. If it gets to the point where those with the weapons are down, grab their shit. Just don’t give up,” Bernie said.

  April nodded even though it was dark. It was more for herself. She needed to psyche herself up to fight. She slowly moved to get in front of her family so she’d be the closest to the door.

  “Nice try,” Carlie said and pushed April away. “You’re not getting in front of me.”

  “Not only am I bigger than you but I’m stronger. Don’t make me beat you up in front of everyone,” April said.

  Carlie was pressed against her now, her head coming up to April’s chest. If they weren’t in such a dire predicament, it would be comical.

  “You think you can take me, Chubby?”

  April balled her hands into fists. “You think I won’t use my weight to crush you, Dwarf?”

  Before the sisters could start throwing punches and pulling hair, their father put his hands between them. Even though it was dark, April knew the exact look he was giving both of them and she imagined his moustache bobbing up and down as he spoke.

  “Not the time and not the place. We’re all in this together. The last thing we need is a fight in a closed space making a lot of unnecessary noise. Do you want me to send you to your rooms?” Mister Hand asked.

  Both girls laughed quietly.

  “Use that energy against the enemy. Not family,” their father said.

  April could hear her mother sobbing quietly close by. She was sure her mother’s nerves were frazzled and she needed to at least get in front of her when the shit hit the fan.