by R. J. Spears
Lord of the Dead
Books of the Dead 2
Copyright.
R.J. Spears
©2017, R.J. Spears
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.
The characters, places, and events depicted are fictional and do not represent
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Revelation 6:8
I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.
Prologue
The sounds of battle caught his attention that night. He had seen it coming when the soldiers hit town. These weren’t emissaries from any central authority. They were a rogue group, marauding from town-to-town, taking what they wanted.
The church people were dug in and fortified. He knew they would defend themselves to the last man, if it came to that. It was the setting for an epic showdown.
The soldiers had all the firepower, but the people in the church were a resourceful and tricky lot. He watched from afar as the two sides waged a brutal war, each side taking horrible losses. He didn’t take sides because their loss was his gain. As each side wore down the other, he knew his chances of taking the city grew.
The battle waged throughout the night, and he had to move in closer to get a better view. What he saw both terrified and excited him. The soldiers had the church people on the ropes. Their main weapon battered the church relentlessly. He couldn’t imagine how the people inside survived, but they did, hanging on by the sliver of a fingernail. Their courage was admirable. He felt this way even though he had never really liked their pious lot. But they had spunk.
The soldiers looked to be about to deliver the death blow when the church people came back with a surprise of their own. They had teams in the field foraging for food and supplies and also killing the undead. He didn’t care all that much if they took supplies, but their purge of the undead caused him great concern.
These two teams had been in the field when the soldiers attacked. The field teams came back to the battle and pulled off a desperate, but perfectly executed surprise attack on the soldier’s flank that nearly crippled them.
Then an undead entered the fray. Attracted by the sounds of the fighting, they poured onto the battlefield. Devoid of allegiances, they took down anyone they could — soldiers or church people. If he admired the church people for their courage, he admired the zombies even more because they didn’t have any personal or holy cause. They were chaos embodied.
When the final battle became too dangerous to observe, and he retreated to safe ground where he watched from afar. Smoke from a nearby fire and weapons obscured much of what happened in the final minutes of this little war, but when the battlefield cleared, he saw that the church people had prevailed. The few surviving soldiers tried to flee city but came by his position where he picked them easily off with his rifle. Not one of his shots had been a headshot, though. In time, they would be a part of the chaos. Of his chaos.
He watched and waited for the next two days. The victory had been a pyrrhic one for the church people. Their sanctuary was nearly destroyed, but they held firm, taking out any of the undead left in the area.
He feared that they would settle in and rebuild their church, but when they finally assessed the damage, their mood must have shifted, providing him with what turned out to be the best outcome. The group split up, with a large contingent leaving town and heading north, leaving a smaller body behind.
He monitored the remaining group for a couple more days and made sure that the other group did not return, leaving those still there weak and on their own. He knew it was time to start building an army. A legion of his own that would allow him to take the city and make it his.
Chapter 1
The Winter of our Discontent
The lone zombie shambled along the crest of the hill. It had trouble navigating in the foot deep snow, stumbling and falling, but getting back up and stumbling again. For a moment, I thought it might wander off away from us, but some innate sense of food (humans) must have pushed it in our direction. They say some people have “gay-dar” and can sense a gay guy at a distance of fewer than fifteen feet. Sometimes I think the zombies have “hu-dar” — the ability to sense humans in close proximity. Or maybe I’m just losing it.
I brought my rifle up and was just about to lock the zombie in my sights when a gunshot rang out off to my right and the back of the zombie’s head blew out, gore and brain matter splashing onto the snow in a horrible looking abstract painting consisting of black, red, and gray on the pristine canvas of snow. The zombie pitched backward and slid gently down the hill like a child enjoying a day sledding, only missing most of the back of its head.
“Sort of slow on the draw, huh Joel?” A voice asked from the direction of the shot.
I looked over to see Travis Underhill, smiling at me, his rifle still aimed in the direction of the zombie. We had guard duty on the southern perimeter of the Manor. Like me, he was dressed in snow gear, but he seemed to pull it off much better. He reminded me of a Russian soldier, competent and warm despite the elements, while I thought I looked like an Oompa Loompa from Willy Wonka, all bulging and wobbly.
I shrugged.
“Let’s check it out,” he said, starting toward the zombie in long, effortless strides.
I followed, trudging through the snow but struggling to stay aloft. When I got to Travis’s side, I saw that he was studying the zombie.
“It’s like the other ones,” he said. “It must have been half blind from the ice is covering its eyes. It didn’t have the sense to wipe away any of the moisture that collected, and it just froze there.”
“Zombies aren’t known for their thinking skills, just their appetites,” I said.
“You’re missing the point,” he said. “This is something that could be used to our advantage.”
“We don’t know that all of them get that dull icy build up,” I said.
“But winter could work for us.”
“And against us. They don’t have to worry about hypothermia, but we do.”
“Still, they seem to be slowing down.”
“Like us.”
“Do you ever look on the bright side of anything?”
“They do stink a lot less in the cold.”
I was being petulant and knew it. There was just something about his rugged good looks and quiet confidence that bugged me.
“Grab a leg,” he said. “We’ll drag it to the pile in the back field.
There was nothing I could enjoy more.
Ten minutes and five face-first falls into the snow for me, and we had the zombie atop the increasing pile of deaders we had taken out over the past month and a half. We kept the pile in a wide trench just off the golf course behind our compound. Most had come in as singles, but a few wandered in small groups. There were no hordes like we had seen in the city. Thank God for that.
Still, standing there surveying the swath of bodies, it was hard to take them all in. Once they had been walking and talking, just like us. They had families and people that cared for them. And then they were dead. Not too soon after that, they were undead intent on adding us as their next meal.
“Where do you think they’re coming from?” Travis asked me.
Since I had come from the city, he saw me as having more experience with the zombies, which I did, but that didn’t make me an expert on these undead bastards. Maybe at surviving them, though.
“They could have been trapped inside a house and gotten free after all these months,” I said, looking the bodies, but not really seeing them as I thought about all the people we had lost in the months after the Outbreak. “They could have been bitten, but gotten away, and holed up somewhere, died, and then came back and started wandering. Some could be from the city. The pickings for food in town have to be getting in short supply.”
It has been over three weeks since any of us had been into the city to visit our friends at the church. As painful as it was, we had decided to strike out to find a better solution to our long-term survival. Our friends in town had decided to stay put. I was on that last run into town and there damn few living people in town, but there were plenty of zombies.
The recent two snowfalls had piled on the inches and made it too dangerous to travel since there were no road crews anymore. And there was no AAA auto club to call to get towed out of snow bank — which was just another downside of the zombie apocalypse.
No one said it, but we collectively ached for our people still in town. Splitting up was the hardest thing we had done outside battling the undead and the marauding soldiers that had nearly destroyed the church. It was a heartbreaking decision, but the ones that had left had felt there was no future at the church. The damage sustained in the battle was just too great, and there was no long-term solution for a sustainable food supply. The ones that stayed behind did so on the conviction that God would provide. I didn’t agree, but I admired their faith.
“It’s time for the changing of the guard,” Travis said. “We should head in.”
He started off for home and I followed trying to stay vertical the whole way.
Home was “The Manor,” a luxury retirement complex nestled in the hills of Southern Ohio. Travis and his crew had been a part of the company that designed and built the large four-building complex. The place was designed for upper-income patrons with just about any imaginable amenity including an Olympic sized pool, exercise rooms, and a geothermal heating and cooling system. The Outbreak hit while they were in the last stages of completion. Travis and a few of his men decided to hole up and ride out the situation not knowing that there wouldn’t be an end to the damage that the Outbreak brought about.
Travis and his father welcomed us in with open arms when we arrived just over a month and a half ago when our caravan was headed north in search a new home base. Their family had been one of the charter members of our church and they were more than happy to see some familiar faces.
The Manor became our new safe haven, and we were all relieved not to have to fight each day for survival against the zombies like we did in the city. Still, despite the relative calm we were experiencing now, none of us had the illusion that this world was safe. With the undead outnumbering the living in an exponential ratio, we knew that any moment could turn the tide back in the total favor of the dead.
After removing the layers of winter clothing, we headed into the expansive dining room where dinner was being served. We had just over fifty people in our group. A large contingent came in from city with us, but a few had wandered in after they had run low on supplies after months of hiding from zombies. Some were the families of Travis’ crew. Facing the zombie apocalypse on my own, I would have been lucky to last twenty days, unless you counted my nearly endless Pop Tart supply.
“We heard a shot,” Greg asked. “Did another wanderer come on the scene?” Greg, a born leader, headed up our warrior group at the church and smoothly transitioned into the role of security chief at the Manor. They were happy to have someone with his experience since none of Travis’ crew had any military background.
“Just one,” Travis said. “It’s on the pile around back now.”
“Did you bag it, Joel?” Kara asked standing next to me at the back of the line waiting for dinner. She knew that it probably had been Travis since I was a terrible shot.
“Ahhhh,” was the best I could stammer out before she elbowed me in the ribs and laughed. Her smile always broke my bad moods.
I was just about to poke her back when someone grabbed her from behind and lifted into the air. It was Travis. He had his arms wrapped around her waist and swung her around in a full arc. While she was petite, his ability to lift her spoke more to his strength, than her size. As she flew through the air, her expression shifted from surprise to a broad smile, then tightened up some.
“I took out the dead thing,” Travis said while setting Kara back down. “With one shot.” He pantomimed aiming a rifle and pulling the trigger, complete with a “Kapow.”
“Way to go, son,” Hub Underhill shouted from near the front of the line, pumping a fist in the air. Hub was Travis’ father, and a proud one at that.
In the next instant, I felt a set of arms wrap around my waist and tug at me, as if trying to lift me. The arms were small, thin, and olive colored. Naveen. An orphan from the zombie apocalypse that I had saved from certain death. Our bond was deep now.
“I’m sure you would have shot it, too,” she said, grunting with exertion as she tried to imitate Travis’ lift.
“You’re going to give yourself a hernia,” Kara said, pulling Naveen back.
“I think I could do it,” Naveen said, crossing her arms in mock disgust. “When I’m older.” Maybe she could, but I doubted it. She was small her age with a slight build, but she was looking so much better than the half emaciated child we had rescued from a horde of zombies in front of the church months ago.
“Can I get in line with Madison?” She asked me and Kara. Without any formal statement, we had become her de facto adoptive parents after hers had been taken down by the undead. She and her friend, Madison Bloom, who was also an orphan, stayed with Kara in her room and generally looked to us for guidance and support. This was probably the closest I could ever considering getting to fatherhood, and I sort of liked it, even though, I had no idea what I was doing.
Kara nodded her head and Naveen ran up to the front of the line with Madison.
“How’s she doing at night?” I asked Kara.
“She still has the nightmares,” Kara said. “But who could blame her after what she went through.”
“Poor kid,” Travis said, shaking his head. He started to say something else when the alarm sounded. The mood, which had just been light, quickly shifted into fear as parents drew their kids close and couples grouped up.
Kara said, “I’ll get the girls up to the room,” and headed across the dining hall to gather Naveen and Madison while I made my way to Greg. Travis and several other men were on their way, too.
Greg had brought the same military discipline that had kept us alive at the church to the Manor. We drilled nearly every day for different scenarios. Most of the time it was how to defend the compound verse a zombie horde, but we also trained to protect ourselves against marauders. Humans, as usual, turned out to be just as deadly as the undead, if not more so.
Someone turned off the alarm, but people were still scrambling either to safety or their prescribed duties in case of an attack.
When I got to beside Greg, he was talking into a walkie-talkie. “Are they zombies?” He looked up and shook his head to communicate with the growing group around him. “So, alive. Do they look friendly?” He took a beat and looked up to the group and shrugged. “Okay, don’t let anyone in until we confirm whether they are friend or foe.”
He stowed the walkie-talkie in his coat pocket and looked up to the rest of us and said, “We’ve got an unspecified number of live ones coming down the main road towards the gate. Travis, you come with me for recon. Joel, take Brandon and Aaron and go to the guys at the gate. Hub, get to the forward observation room with your rifle and make sure have these new folks covered. Get prepped and
get to your positions ASAP.”
There was no collective hand clap or “Let’s go team.” From the constant drilling, we all knew our jobs. It was time to go to work.
The packed down snow crunched loudly under our feet as we made our way to the gate. Brandon and Aaron were pumped up and ready for action as we strode forward. It was my job to assess the threat and to also keep these two from being overly aggressive. They had a bit of a reputation for going off halfcocked.
“Spread out,” I said. That would make us harder to take out from a sniper attack.
I took a quick peek over my shoulder and saw silhouettes moving in both of the front corner third-floor rooms of the building facing the gate. Our sniper teams were ready. I hoped Kara would make it there, too. She was the best shot in the compound.
Through the wide bars of the fence that surrounded much of the compound, I could see a double cab pickup stopped just outside the gate.
“I see two men outside the truck,” Brandon said. “Both have rifles.”
“Stay cool,” I said as I looked up to the guard tower next to the gate. Steve Hampton had pulled guard duty that night. Despite all the drilling, I had never truly trusted him. He had come to the Manor from the church with us, but there were only a few times in the past months that I had ever seen him doing anything that wasn’t motivated by base self-interest.
I brought my walkie-talkie up and said, “We have a truck at the gate. Two men are outside it. Both are armed. There are more people in the truck.”
Greg’s voice came back, “Approach with caution. Don’t let them anyone in until we can thoroughly check them out.”
“Roger that,” I said, feeling strange talking in military lingo.
“Brandon, Aaron, take defensive positions on either side of the gate post,” I said putting the walkie-talkie back into my pocket. I could feel my pulse speed up.
Chapter 2
Friend or Foe?
“Gentleman, I need you to put your weapons down and approach us,” I said through the bars of the gate. They stood by their truck which was parked twenty feet away, perpendicular to the gate.
