Machines of the Dead (Book 2)

by David Bernstein

  The hallway opened up to a spacious living room accented in light browns, the cream-colored carpet now sodden with dirt and grime. Maria stepped forward, telling the group to stay back. A three-piece couch, loveseat and ottoman took up space around a grand fireplace. Maria could feel its warmth from across the room. A large television was attached to the brick above. The far wall on her left was composed of what had to be twenty-foot high windows with a view of the snow-covered valley below. An oversized ceiling fan hung from the rafters. A balcony looked over the room, accessible from the second floor.

  Voices came from a doorway in the far right hand corner of the room. Maria hurried back to the group in the hall. “Go, go,” she whispered, and they scrambled into a state-of-the-art kitchen that could’ve been the feature of a cooking show—had the ceramic tiled floor been cleaned, but was now laden with boot prints, stains and trash. A slender, bald-headed man with a long scraggly beard stared at Maria, then eyed the group. “What the—” he began, dropping his can of beer to the floor. He reached for his rifle, an M4 that had been resting against the counter.

  Zaun pulled out the knife he took off of Cable and threw it at the man, hitting the guy square in the head. The blade didn’t connect. The knife bounced off and hit the floor. The man grunted in pain and stumbled into the wall. Zaun scooped up the weapon and tackled the man, sinking the blade into his Adam’s apple, preventing a call for help. Blood spewed as he pulled the weapon free. The dying man clutched at his throat, gasping for breath that would never come. Zaun grabbed the guy’s head and twisted, breaking his neck.

  Maria had the M4 in her hands. “Get his jacket off,” she said, “it’s cold out and we may need it.”

  Zaun removed the coat. Blood soaked part of the right side where the zipper ran. He went through the pockets and found a set of keys, a magazine for the M4, a pocketknife and two pieces of chocolate. He handed the coat to Maria who handed it to Jill, telling her to put it on.

  “I’m not wearing this,” Jill said. “It’s got that scumbag’s blood on it.” She passed it to Margaret who already had a coat. Margaret passed it to Georgina who passed it to Susan who dropped it to the floor as if it was diseased. Maria couldn’t blame them for not wanting to wear it, but this was about survival.

  Zaun tossed the chocolates away. Maria looked at him. “I’m not eating anything that came from that man’s pockets,” he said.

  Maria grabbed the bloody coat from the floor and put it on. If no one else was going to wear it, then she would. Compared to what she’d had to endure overseas, wearing a coat with a little blood on it was no big deal.

  “Let’s move,” she said.

  They headed into the dining room and Maria’s heart leaped in her chest at what she saw. Along the right wall were more huge windows with an incredible view of the mountainside, but it was the blue tarp taped in place, fluttering noisily as the wind crashed against it, that made her smile. A way out.

  She approached one of the windows and peered out. She saw no one, but that didn’t mean sentries weren’t about. She and the others couldn’t remain in the house much longer. In fact, she could hardly believe their fortune so far.

  “We’re leaving,” she said. Ripping down the tarp wasn’t an option and Zaun’s newly acquired pocket knife wasn’t sharp enough. Any guards passing by on the grounds would clearly notice the missing material. She went into the kitchen, opened a few drawers until she found one with knives and grabbed a sharp one before returning to the tarp where she cut a slit down the middle. She poked her head out. Her eyes teared as frigid winds blew across her face. She made sure the area was clear, then stepped out onto the deck that ran along the back of the house. From here, she had a better view of the backyard.

  Zaun poked his head out. “We good?”

  “For now, so move it.”

  The others came from the slit, Maria and Zaun keeping an eye out. When everyone was on the deck, Maria led the group to the stairs and proceeded down.

  When they hit the yard, Maria feared being seen. They were out in the open with nowhere to hide. Anyone looking out one of the windows would see them. Only a shout or gunshot would let her know if their escape was going to remain smooth or not.

  There was quite a difference in the way Cliff House was operated when compared to Cannibal’s. Cliff House was well-guarded and fortified. There was no way they’d have escaped the place, at least without being seen. Don had guards everywhere, patrolling the grounds and the roof. Cannibal’s henchmen seemed, for the most part, to be lazy and not very bright, save one or two of them.

  Maria couldn’t help but wonder if an attack on Cannibal was a good idea. Why hadn’t Don considered it? It was worth a few casualties to be rid of the scumbag and his minions. Then again, Don and his people didn’t know how Cannibal ran the ship—careless and lax. A surprise attack would be perfect. Sure, Cannibal had the weapons to take out a small army, but not an organized one that used the element of surprise. These criminals were overconfident and more of the “attack” frame of mind. Don and the people of Cliff House were more of the “defend” mentality. Maybe with Maria’s information, she could help plan an assault that would end Cannibal’s rule. If Don waited for an attack, she feared the worst for Cliff House. Defending against so many guns, even ones used by such idiots, could prove detrimental.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the group huddled close together.

  “I’m going to run across to the woods first,” Maria said. “When I think it’s safe, I’ll wave you girls over. Then Zaun.”

  “Why not all at once?” Margaret asked.

  “I’m going to be able to cover you from the tree line. Zaun’s going to stay here and act as additional cover should we need it.”

  “It’s okay girls,” he said. “Maria knows what she’s doing.”

  Maria bolted across the open yard and into the forest. There, she hid behind a wide tree, rifle at the ready, and peered up at the house. All seeming quiet, she motioned for the girls.

  Jill led the way as the females ran, hair flying wildly, arms waving at their sides.

  A rustling noise from behind drew Maria’s attention. She quickly scanned the woods behind her. Seeing nothing unusual, she put her sights back to the house. As soon as the girls reached her, she told them to take cover, then motioned for Zaun.

  Eyeing the house, she saw movement at the blue tarp. The barrel of a gun poked through the slit.

  She couldn’t warn Zaun fast enough as the gun fired.

  Zaun went down.

  Electricity coursed through Maria’s veins. She took aim at the tarp and fired three shots. She heard a yelp as the gun barrel disappeared back inside.

  Zaun lay face down in the middle of the yard. She needed to get him out of there. The whole place would be crawling with Cannibal’s men. She called Jill to her, the only one of the girl’s that wasn’t curled up into a ball.

  “We’ve only got seconds before this place is under full assault.” Maria pulled out the .357. “You ever shoot a gun before?”

  “Yeah, my father’s .45, but only for fun.”

  “That’ll have to do. Remember the kick?—well this one’s going to have a bit more. I’m going to get Zaun. You see anyone, start shooting. Don’t worry about hitting anyone, from this range you won’t. It’s just cover fire, keeping whoever is up there wary of showing themselves or getting an accurate shot.

  Jill looked hesitant.

  “You can do this. Just point and shoot. Keep a firm grip.”

  Maria slung the M4 over her shoulder, then bolted from the tree line and reached Zaun in seconds. He wasn’t moving. The left side of his face was covered in red, the snow beneath it too. She didn’t have time to examine him, and hoped she wasn’t going to be carrying a corpse. Thankfully, Zaun wasn’t a big guy.

  Maria grabbed Zaun from behind by his armpits and began backpedaling toward the forest, keeping an eye on the house. She was an easy target for a halfway decent shooter. A window on the second floo
r opened and the barrel of a rifle extended from it. Shots were fired. Bullets kicked up the snow to her left. From behind, the .357 sounded and tufts of wood siding exploded about ten feet from the gunman’s position. Jill’s shots were nowhere close to the shooter, but seemed to do the trick as he ducked back inside.

  Almost at the tree line, she heard one of the girls scream. She reached the forest and pulled Zaun in about ten feet before dropping him to check on the girls.

  “Jill,” she called.

  “Over here.”

  About fifteen feet in, a body lay on the ground. It smelled of death and rot. Its clothes were torn and ragged. Clearly a zombie. Then Maria remembered hearing the rustling noise.

  “Fucking undead came out of nowhere and attacked Susan,” Jill said.

  Susan was on the ground, eyes wide in disbelief. Her hand was bleeding.

  “Where’s Margaret and Georgina?” Maria asked.

  “They took off after the zombie bit Susan.”

  “Bit?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn it,” Maria hissed.

  “What about her?” Jill said, pointing the .357 at Susan.

  “Lower the weapon, Jill,” Maria said.

  “But she’s infected,” Jill insisted. “She’s as good as dead.”

  “We can save her.”

  “No. No you—”

  “Jill. Trust me. We can save her. I have to check on Zaun. Lower the weapon and keep an eye out. We’ll be all right, okay?” Maria turned away and headed to Zaun. She knelt next to him and found a pulse. Relief flooded through her.

  Voices came from the direction of the house. Shouting, then shots were fired. Bullets whizzed through the forest and pinged off trees. The shots were clearly random. Thanks to the number of evergreens along the tree line, there was no way anyone could spot their position, but they’d have to move.

  Maria lightly swatted Zaun’s cheeks. “Wake up. Wake up.”

  He stirred, eyes opening. “What’s going on?”

  “Hold still while I take a look at you,” she told him. A dark, almost black line ran along the side of Zaun’s head. “You’ve got a burner. You’ll live.”

  “Hurts like hell.”

  “Can you walk—” she began, but was silenced when gunfire sounded from the woods. The girls!

  She helped Zaun up, put his gun in his hand and told him to follow her to where the others were. When she reached Jill, her mouth dropped open. On the ground, her brains strewn like a dropped melon, was Susan.

  “What. Did. You. Do?”

  “I wasn’t going to let her suffer,” Jill said, coldly. “You were wrong to lie to her.”

  Maria felt her insides boil. Her finger twitched against the trigger of the M4. Red flashed across her vision and she wanted nothing more than to kill this girl. This scared, stupid girl.

  “You idiot,” she scolded, and tore the gun from Jill’s grasp, then brought her arm back, ready to strike the girl.

  “Go ahead,” Jill said, not flinching, “I’m not sorry for what I did.”

  “You will be,” Zaun said. “We could’ve saved her. We know how. We’ve saved many before her. Myself included.”

  More shots rang out. Bullets cut through the trees, some nearer than others. Everyone crouched.

  “We need to leave,” Zaun said.

  “No,” Jill said, looking stricken. “She was a dead woman. There’s no coming back.”

  “We spent a lot of time together in that cage. I told you about the bots and how they work,” Maria said. “I reiterated here and you still didn’t listen. You’re a murderer.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Jill said, her face rigid.

  “Why would we lie?” Maria asked.

  “We. Need. To. Move. Now,” Zaun insisted. “We’ll sort this out later.”

  “She’s not coming with us,” Maria said.

  “Yes she is, and she’s the one that has to live with it.”

  Zaun might be partly correct, but Maria was already blaming herself. She saw the look in Jill’s eyes. She never should’ve left her alone with Susan.

  “You guys are serious?” Jill said, incredulously. “You’re wrong; there’s no cure. The dead are damned.”

  Maria grunted, shook her head in disgust, then headed deeper into the forest, following Margaret’s and Susan’s tracks. She couldn’t believe she’d sat there arguing with the girl when bullets were flying, a girl was missing, and their escape was happening.

  As they made their way through the woods, the sound of gunfire lessened, but the tracks now had blood around them. Someone was hurt. The amount of red in the snow grew more apparent the farther the group traveled. Something bad must’ve happened. Someone was hurt.

  They picked up the pace. Maria’s feet were freezing now, soaked from the snow going over the tops of her boots, but she trudged on, knowing stopping would do nothing. The others were just as cold and tired. There was more blood, as if the wound was gushing. Then she saw it, about ten feet away. Georgina was kneeling by Margaret’s prone form.

  “Shit,” Zaun said, from behind.

  Maria hurried to the women. Margaret’s body was completely surrounded by red snow. She knelt next to the woman and felt for a pulse. Nothing. “She’s gone.” She looked up at Georgina, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “There was nothing I could do,” Georgina said. “She never said anything. I looked back and saw her face-down in the snow.”

  “What happened?” Zaun asked.

  “She probably caught a bullet,” Maria said. “Those maniacs were shooting wildly.”

  A small, ragged hole could be seen in the girl’s jacket just above where the right kidney was located. Slipping her hands under the body, Maria flipped it over. Margaret’s dead eyes stared upwards. Her entire shirt was soaked in blood. Pieces of slushy red snow stuck to her. A large, gaping hole took up her abdomen.

  “She’s dead,” Jill said. “We need to keep moving.”

  Maria stood, faced Jill. The girl for the first time appeared nervous. It took all she had for Maria not to lay Jill out. She turned back toward Margaret and began kicking snow over the body. Zaun helped.

  “I knew her for only a short time,” Georgina said, “but she was a good person.”

  “I know,” Maria said. “We’ll miss her, but we need to move.”

  The group trudged on, following Maria. No one said much. Georgina was still in shock, but managing. Zaun took up the rear, Jill in front of him.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Zaun asked.

  “Nope,” Maria said. “Hoping to hit a road soon.”

  The others, even Jill, put their trust in her, because no one said another word. A short time later, they came to a road. One way led up the mountain, the other down. They went up.

  They came to an intersection. Maria thought it looked like the one she’d seen while riding in the armored truck, then again she wasn’t sure. Everything looked similar—trees and more trees and snow. Lots of snow. They turned left and followed the road, grateful to be out of the forest. Unfortunately, the road was covered in at least a foot of snow. Maria no longer felt her feet, hands or face. Zaun was shivering. Jill seemed okay, oddly enough. That bitch was colder than the air.

  Ten minutes later, they came to the somewhat-shoveled driveway that led to Cliff House. Zaun laughed in relief.

  “We made it,” he said.

  “Put your weapons away unless you want to get mistaken for the enemy,” Maria said.

  She and the others marched down the driveway, guns tucked away or slung over shoulders.

  Halfway to the house, three armed men came from the woods and surrounded them.

  Chapter 23

  Cable awoke. His head pounded, but it was his chest that really ached, feeling as if an anvil had been dropped on it. But the pain was inconsequential. He was more concerned about his predicament. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but he had to leave as soon as possible. When Cannibal found out he w
as the cause for the prisoners’ escape, he’d be a dead man. Every man in the house would be after him. He had no friends and most of the other men would gladly like to see him gone.

  Footsteps clomping on wood shook Cable from his inner thoughts. His pulse quickened. He scooted around to get a better view of the stairs and saw that it was former inmate, Billy Bob. Billy Bob wasn’t the man’s real name, but he was a hick if there ever was one, with missing front teeth, unwashed, messy hair, a scraggly, unkempt beard, and a belly that rivaled a pregnant woman’s.

  “What the—?” the man scoffed.

  “Get over here and uncuff me.”

  The oaf hurried the rest of the way, stopping when he hit the ground. “Where’s the prisoners?”

  “Get me out of these chains, you moron.”

  “Holy shit, they escaped! I got to tell Cannibal.”

  “Release me first,” Cable hissed. “They just left. I can hunt them down while you tell the boss. You wouldn’t want him asking why you left me here when I could’ve been after them, would you?”

  “No . . .” The dumbass appeared to be thinking.

  “Stop standing there and un-fucking-cuff me,” Cable demanded, snapping Billy Bob into action. The burly hillbilly kneeled by the dead guard and fished around in the corpse’s pockets until he found the handcuff keys, then hurried over to Cable and undid the man’s wrists and ankles.

  Cable shot to his feet.

  “I’ll tell Cannibal,” Billy Bob said. “Hell, I’ll alert everyone.” The redneck turned to leave. Cable grabbed the man by his wild mane with one hand, slid Billy Bob’s knife from its place at his hip with his other, then yanked the head back. With the man’s neck fully exposed, Cable ran the blade across it with as much force as he could muster. The flesh parted; the cut deep. Blood spurted across the room. Cable released the hillbilly who fell forward, clutching at his throat. The man turned over, staring at Cable with disbelieving eyes before the light went out of them and he fell limp.

  Cable dropped the knife on the man’s belly and headed up the stairs.