Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet

by Simpson, David A.

  “The casino.” she said “I figured. It’s the only place lit up. The officers will probably be in the top floor suites. It’s still pretty hot out, they’ll want to be able to open the windows and catch the breeze.”

  “Yeah.” Jessie said. “Makes sense. They think they’re safe, that no one is coming to rescue the town. You okay, Scar?”

  She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before answering but when she did, her voice was strong and sure. No hesitation.

  “Yes. Let’s finish this. We have much to do before we can rest.”

  They hopped down lightly, disappeared into the shadows then jogged towards the only building showing signs of life. The two guards stood outside the main entrance doors in a circle of light, sort of on alert but not really. They’d gone house to house and knew the town was empty. All of the survivors were inside and they had watchmen on the walls. They’d have plenty of advance warning if trouble popped up somewhere.

  They heard a whirling sound and looked sharply towards it and the two dark figures racing towards them. Before they could react, Scarlets baton cracked the first man across the face knocking him senseless and Jessies thrown blade sunk deep into the second man’s shoulder. He cried out but a shadow moving at incredible speed had a second blade slammed into his forehead with enough force to snap his neck. Jessie lowered him down and retrieved his knives, wiping them on the dead man’s shirt.

  “You missed.” Scarlet teased.

  “Just because he moved to see what was making so much racket. Can’t you put a silencer on those things?”

  “You missed.” Scarlet said again as they drug the bodies away from the door and hid them behind an abandoned car.

  “Whatever.” Jessie scowled at her. “Next time, I throw before you do.”

  “Mr. Misser missed.” she sing songed quietly as they went through the doors, looking for the next men clad in black.

  They could hear talking and laughter coming from the casino floor, their ears picked up the sounds of cards being shuffled and chips being moved around felt. A low peek around the corner showed a handful of men gathered around one table. One of the conference rooms on the far side of the room was padlocked shut, a heavy chain ran through the door handles. Behind another set of doors closer to them, they heard snores and grunts of men sleeping. The rest of the platoon.

  They slipped back to the lobby, hid behind the hotel’s check-in desk and moved their heads close to figure out a plan that wouldn’t entail getting them killed.

  “They’re lax.” Scarlet said. “They aren’t expecting trouble and won’t know anything is wrong until it’s time for a guard change.”

  “You still think the enhanced ones are all upstairs?” Jessie asked “They’re the only ones I’m really kinda worried about. We need to take them out first. If three or four of them come at us, it’s gonna get dicey. They move like those guys in the Matrix movies.”

  “Yes, but so do you.” she said. “They’re up there. They don’t mingle with the others and it’s hot and stuffy down here. They’re upstairs with the pick of the prettiest women. Or boys.”

  “I saw a radio on the poker table.” Jessie said. “We can’t let the brass get a message through. If we have twenty guys shooting at us, we’re going to have to run. I don’t like getting shot.”

  “Sissy.” Scarlet said but with a smile. “We go up. We kill them quiet. These guys will be easy.”

  There was a staircase at either end of the three-story building and they split up then raced quietly for the top floor. Neither came across any guards. No security outside of the luxury suites either. The doors had been kicked in since they had killed the only men who knew the password to reset the electronic locks. With their attuned hearing, they easily found the four rooms that were occupied. From three they heard the sounds of steady breathing from sleeping people and one held the sounds of whimpering and panting. The door was secured with the flimsy chain lock and stood ajar enough for them to catch glimpses in the mirror above the dresser. A mostly naked man wearing bondage gear had someone with a short chain around their neck and was spanking him with a rolled-up newspaper like he was a dog. They couldn’t see the whole room but from the sounds, they knew there was only one captive.

  With a nod to each other, Jessie shoved the door open and they sprinted in, steel in each fist. Jessie was only a half a heartbeat ahead and barely had time to say Not him! as she swung, the metal baton flying to snap the neck of the man holding the chain. He didn’t know if she had time to stop her deadly blow, he had a blade in each hand and was diving for the man with the dog collar around his neck.

  The man on his knees being scolded for peeing on the floor.

  He was blindingly fast and whipped the chain towards Jessie’s face, causing him to throw up an arm to keep his eyes from being lashed out. He missed the swing with his blades and the man rolled away from a savage kick aimed at his dangling privates. Jessie dodged a lamp slung at him from the nightstand and dove for him again as the man scrambled for a pistol hanging on the bed post. They moved at lightning speed, the hand reaching for the gun came up short as six inches of sharpened surgical steel impaled it to the wall. Jessie followed through, driving his shoulder into a muscled ribcage. They smashed through the drywall with a grunt, sheetrock exploding in a cloud of dust and two by fours splintering like twigs. He twisted out of Jessies grip again, sprang towards the door but flew off his feet when Jessie grabbed the trailing chain and yanked with all his might, trying to pop the man’s head off. Before he slammed to the carpet, Jessie was already following through with an overhead drive of his other knife. He caught his head as it bounced and drove it right back down, blade through the skull, pinning it to the floor.

  They heard the sounds of the men in the adjoining rooms throwing on clothes and Jessie pulled his guns. Stealth time was over. He sent a dozen rounds through the wall, fire spitting from each pistol, at where he heard the zipping of pants and the rustling of a gun belt then ran for the hallway to meet the others. Scarlet was slamming her batons at one of them, forcing him back through a doorway. He was blocking the blows with his arms and every time she hit, a bone broke in a different place. Jessie spun, bringing his guns up for the last of the Lieutenants but the mostly naked man with the bondage gear was pumping round after round into him from the bed side gun. Jessie nodded to the barkeep, the one he’d met so many months ago and pretended not to notice what he was wearing.

  “Mr. Carter.” he said by way of greeting as Scarlet came back out into the hall, flicking blood from her batons.

  “Ah, so you two know each other?” Scarlet asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. She’d come a hairs breadth from snapping his neck before Jessies warning had saved him.

  The barkeep looked embarrassed and started to say something but Jessie interrupted.

  “Timothy, there’s a whole bunch more that’ll be coming up the stairs in a few minutes. If you’ve got clothes, now would be the time to get them on.”

  The man nodded and disappeared as Jessie swapped half spent hollow point mags for full ones, his fingers flying, doing the task without thought. He slapped in his close combat magazines and felt a little sorry for Carter. Sometimes you had to do whatever it took to stay alive. He grinned at Scarlet and whispered so only she could hear.

  “I bet we get free dinners here forever as long as we keep his secret.”

  She giggled then cocked her head.

  “Both ends.” she said and pointed to the stairs.

  Jessie heard it too, blew her a kiss and sprinted for the door. They fought differently but each was no less deadly than the other. The men barging up the steps weren’t super human. They were ordinary men moving at ordinary speeds. They were fanatical and devoted and would lay down their lives for the cause and the two teenagers would help them along in that endeavor. Jessie with lead, Scarlet with steel.

  She burst through the door and dashed down the stairs. By the time their flashlights caught glimpses of her in the inky darkn
ess, she was swinging with enough force to decapitate, each nearly invisible strike a killing blow. She dove into them, sending them tumbling and falling, her fists impossible to see, the sounds of breaking bones impossible to ignore. Lightning fast, the whistle of steel flying through the air could be heard over the crunches and snaps of flesh and bone being battered. It was loud in the stifling black and men heard the whisper of metal death over the screams of pain and shouts of fear. Flashlights clattered and bounced sending strobing light beams dancing on the walls, ceiling and floor. Bodies flew over the railing, tumbled and ricocheted all the way down as Scarlet plowed through them, leaving dying men in her wake. Her catlike eyes took in everything: saw their wide panicked stares, their urgent search for a target. They only caught glimpses of black on black, ink on a shadow, before they heard the onrushing sound of their doom: The swish of leather and the hush of steel before it snapped their neck or cleaved their skull. Dying men pulled triggers, bullets zinged and sprayed chunks of brick and mortar. Whizzing lead plinked off metal railings or found soft flesh but Scarlet never slowed her descent. Staying near the wall, she killed and shoved all the way to the ground. All the way down to the stack of bodies piled up that had been tossed over the rails. A few broken men moaned at the agony of splintered bones but she ignored them and sprinted to the other end of the building to help Jessie.

  Jessie hit the fire door running, saw the cluster of flashlights hurrying up the stairs and opened fire. Ripper rounds sent gouts of blood and chunks of vital organs splashing from numerous holes in the soft flesh. Fire from his two-fisted guns showed terrified faces, wide, white eyes and technicolor sprays of blood painting the walls. He ran straight at them, grim determination on his face. Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. Don’t give them even a second to think about how their plan of attack was suddenly fubared. Don’t give them time to regroup or even have a clear thought. Instill fear and panic and cut them down. A few tried to fire up the stairwell but they had to be careful not to hit any of their own. Jessie didn’t have any such concerns. Both barrels spit death and when the mags were empty, they dropped to the piles of blood-soaked bodies and the next set of mags slammed home. Wadcutters sent men flying with caved in chests, dangling arms and disintegrated faces. Brains and lungs decorated the steps and he bounded down to meet them. Screams of terror echoed through the stairwell, nearly as deafening as the thunder of the guns. He was twitch shooting, nearly as fast as a machine gun and every round found a home. Every flashlight was shot. Every voice was silenced. Every muzzle flash ended abruptly with hands blown away and belly’s blown open. Jessie never slowed, never stopped to double check death. He trusted his guns; his hands knew the ways of war. Anyone left alive when he hit the bottom door would be dead in minutes when the last of their blood spurted out from the gaping holes.

  He saw Scarlet burst from the door at the other end of the hall and he slowed. They met in the middle at the main casino lobby and saw the drinks half finished at the table, an ashtray with a cigarette still smoking. The door to one of the conference rooms stood open and there were dozens of mattresses spread out. The makeshift barracks for the warriors. The other room still had the chain through the handles, the key dangling in the padlock. Quiet sounds of people dying could be heard from either end of the building and unsure sounds of people hiding could be heard from the conference room. Jessie unlocked the chain, let it slide through the handles and clatter to the floor then left it. He walked over behind the bar, pulled down a couple of glasses then started looking for something to fill them with. The Anubis warriors had extension cords running from the generator and a dozen lamps lit the room filling it with too much light. It looked better the last time he was here with the kerosene lamps and candles.

  Scarlet found a few bar towels and started wiping the blood spray from her clothes and the black soot from her face. They were both calm on the outside but killing real people was never easy. It wasn’t like killing the zombies. Those things were barely human anymore, they looked like mummies dressed in rags. Real people died easier too. It only took a single bullet in the belly to take them out. A zombie wouldn’t even register a gut shot, they’d shake if off like it was no more bother than a bug bite.

  “Say when.” Jessie said and started pouring Captain Morgan into a mason jar.

  She said nothing, so he topped it off then dropped a straw in so she could sip without spilling. They heard the doors squeak and a dirty face peeked out. There were whispers and they heard “Road Angel” being repeated. After a moment, they opened and the people shuffled into the room, squinting against the light. There were a lot of them Jessie noted with satisfaction. Mostly women and some kids but quite a few men, too. Enough to keep the town going.

  “Where’s them other assholes?” one of the men asked with bravado in his voice as he picked up the chain and wrapped it around his fist.

  “Dead or dying.” Jessie said. “Most are in the stairwells.”

  “The leaders are on top floor.” Scarlet added. “They are also dead.”

  There were sighs and sobs of relief as Jessie tried to clean some of the back splashed blood from his clothes and a man leaning heavily on an Indian woman limped over to the bar. It was the radioman with a hastily splinted broken leg. Even though he’d surrendered, they’d nearly killed him. Jessie recognized him from his last visit and poured him a tall glass of the Captain.

  “As soon as you can, get on the radio and let all the other settlements know how they fight. How they use the undead as a distraction.” Jessie said

  The base station with the tall antenna that he used had a lot more range than the mobile radio in the car. He would be able to reach everyone.

  “I’ll get right on it.” he said and downed the glass in a few gulps.

  There wasn’t an atmosphere of celebration in the air, just one of gritty sadness. They had lost many of their best men. Husbands, brothers and sons had been gunned down from behind while defending the town.

  “We can never repay you.” Carter said as he joined them, the bondage leather replaced with blue jeans and a flannel shirt “but anything you want at my bar will always be on the house.”

  He gave them both a long look, one that implored them not to ask questions or talk about what they’d seen.

  “Appreciate it.” Jessie said and gave him a small nod.

  The barkeep took his place behind the counter and started lining up shots for everyone.

  “I’ll start some breakfast.” One of the women said and a few made their way through the batwing doors to the kitchen.

  Dawn would be coming soon. The town had their dead to bury and some healing to do and the two teenagers were outsiders. They didn’t mourn because they hadn’t lost anyone close. Jessie and Scarlet slipped away and made their way to the wall and the Mercury. The war had started and they had miles to go before they could sleep.

  114

  Anubis Headquarters

  Some of the groups had been on the move for weeks in route to Cascade or the Hutterites or even Lakota. The high priest of the armies had turned them all towards Tombstone. He was losing the confidence of the Lord of the Underworld. He’d had too many defeats, not enough successes. His team sent to reconquer the Island was being repulsed, the undead shredded with rocket propelled grenades and withering machine gun fire. They had fought to a stalemate and his warriors had to retreat to gather more undead. Blackfoot had fallen and he had bragged about his methods but within hours, it had been retaken by the rebellious scum. Anselmo was a ghost town when his soldiers arrived. Abandoned and empty. A hollow victory.

  Now everything he had schemed and achieved, his tenuous position as Chief of the Armies, his future appointment to even greater glory, was riding on the conquering of Tombstone. He had to take it and hold it and he spared no resources. He sent reinforcements that had been guarding their Headquarters, he rerouted his teams meant to conquer other towns and he ignored that insufferable bore Ricketts when he suggested caution should be take
n. Perhaps you should send a few scouts to see if there were anything unexpected ahead of them.

  “And perhaps you shouldn’t be such a coward.” he had replied.

  He knew what he was doing. He didn’t need unsolicited advice. He didn’t need slow, plodding caution. The winter snows would catch them if he didn’t hurry and the undead army would be useless. Any fool knew that and Ricketts just wanted him to fail. He wanted to be the one to say “I told you so.” It wouldn’t work, though. He’d crush Tombstone, their most powerful city besides Lakota, and the rest would fall in line. They hadn’t realized resistance was futile but they would.

  He tried to relax and clear his mind as the girls and boys sponge bathed him in warm, bubbly champagne and massaging fingers kneaded his blubbery muscles with fragrant oils. He was face down on the pleasure table and soft hands stroked him from below through the hole cut out where his manhood hung down. His ploy would work. It had to. He needed to be elevated because who knew what was in the next pleasure room. His imagination hadn’t prepared him for this one, it was beyond belief, beyond anything he’d ever experienced or heard about anyone experiencing. He had to advance to the next rank, had to find out what was in the next room. Tombstone would fall and he had a new foolproof plan for the attack on Lakota: he’d have survivors from Tombstone in front of the horde and running for the gates. They would open them wide to let them in and his men would be among them. He would be able to present Lakota to the Lord of the Underworld in another month.

  He sighed with pleasure as the many hands bathed, massaged and stroked.

  Ricketts couldn’t let the army be destroyed, no matter how much he wanted Charles to fail. His loyalty was to Anubis. He knew what was waiting for the warriors in Tombstone, he listened to the chatter on the radios. He made the call, warned the commanders what they would be facing and told them how to defeat a well-prepared enemy. It was for the greater good and besides, he would ensure that they informed the Lord of the Underworld that it had been him who had delivered the cities. Him who had given them critical information. Him who had defeated the enemy.