Dead Rising

by Carl Hose

  Twenty

  “Can I have some more pie?” Billy asked.

  “Give the boy another piece of blueberry pie,” Jed told Abigail. “You put it right on my tab.”

  “I’ll bring him another piece of pie,” Abby said. “And don’t worry about any tab. The boy eats on the house, whatever he wants, Edna’s orders.”

  “Well, nobody goes against Edna’s orders, I know that much,” Jed said.

  “How about you? More coffee?”

  Jed nodded. “And I’ll take a piece of the blueberry myself.”

  Abby poured Jed’s coffee, then went off to get the pie.

  “Like I was tellin’ ya,” Jed said to Billy, “Dalton writes them cowboy books. Does a real fine job of it too. I always get me a signed copy.”

  While Jed went on about Dalton and his books, other patrons in Edna’s place ate their meals and tried to pretend life was normal. It was less chaotic than before, with everybody in town, including the military, trying to work together.

  In the kitchen, Edna and Joe discussed the short supply of food.

  “How long have we got?” Edna asked.

  “Maybe a day or two,” Joe said. “We’re running out of everything. Not just us, but everybody in town. Without supplies getting through, it won’t be long before we’re all starving.”

  “We’ll have to shut down after today, Joe,” Edna said. “I hate to do it, but we need to keep some set aside for rations.”

  “Generators are holding up for now, but they’ll be gone too, once we run out of propane,” Joe added.

  “Colonel Edgewater managed to get a supply in before the government stopped supporting the troops. We’re probably good on that count.”

  “That’s good to know,” Joe said.

  “Guess I better be getting back out front,” Edna said. She started to turn, hesitated, then said, “I ever tell you how much I appreciate you, Joe?”

  “Once or twice,” he said with a smile.

  “Well, let me tell you again. If it wasn’t for all your years of dedicated hard work, I wouldn’t have made a go of this place.”

  “That’s not true,” Joe said, “and don’t let me hear another word about it.”

  “Okay, not another word, but just make sure you know how I feel.”

  She left it at that and returned to the front of the diner. A couple of customers were coming through the door. New faces in town. Wanda something-or-other, that sweet flower child whose name slipped her mind, and a nice young man named Bobby. They waved to her and took a table near the front of the diner.

  Edna was getting used to new faces these days, with that handsome preacher man Jim Pierce and little Billy Evans being the most recent. Under better circumstances, they would have all been welcome additions to Faith.

  Edna made her way over to where Billy was halfway through a tall glass of milk and licking the remains of blueberry pie from his plate.

  “You getting enough to eat?” she asked.

  “Boy’s eatin’ fine,” Jed said.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” Billy said. “I sure like your pie.”

  “I’m glad you do.”

  The world could fall to pieces, but a good slice of pie would always be a comfort. That was something that could be counted on.

  Twenty-One

  Edgewater slept fitfully. He dreamed of running through a storm of shambling dead things, plowing them down with an M-16 in one hand and his .45 in the other. He also dreamed of the bite, which he’d told no one about. He kept it hidden for now, until he’d done all the good he could do. Once word got out, they’d do to him what he’d do to any one of them.

  Truth be told, he’d thought about doing himself, but the chemical reaction was already gaining control. Anything he could have done to prevent the inevitable should have been done a long time before now.

  Edgewater sat up, staring at the oozing pus-filled wound on his arm. The shit coming out of it was black. His hands were shaking. It was all over for him now. Everything but the brain smorgasbord.

  He found a pen and paper and scribbled a note on it. The note contained a short explanation and an address. Dalton would know what to do with it. He sealed the note in an official military envelope and wrote DALTON CONNORS across the front of it.

  The sun would be coming up soon. Edgewater dressed in full combat gear and left his warm bed behind to walk down the center of Main Street. Beads of sweat ran down his face, but his skin was clammy cold, just like the skin of any corpse. If he’d had the balls to look in the mirror before taking to the streets, he’d have seen the grayish-white thing looking back, already beginning the stages of decay that would make him one of them.

  He passed Edna’s place, where he knew Edna and Joe would be right now, getting ready to open up and feed the masses. He would never eat there again, so he continued on, stopping at the Sheriff’s office long enough to slide the envelope addressed to Dalton under the door.

  It was the last good thing he ever did.

  By the time he reached the barrier separating Faith from the rest of the world, Edgewater was barely human. He passed a soldier coming off guard duty. When the soldier saluted and said, “Morning, Colonel Edgewater,” the thing that used to be Edgewater didn’t respond.

  He let himself out of the wall and into the zombie wasteland beyond, crossing the stretch of highway separating Faith from the ridge to the east—the very ridge he’d led an assault against on more than one occasion.

  A soldier on guard duty in one of the four towers that formed the corners of the Faith barricade couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He grabbed the radio mic and keyed it. “Post two, do you copy?” he said.

  There was a short burst of static, then a voice came over the channel. “Post two, go ahead.”

  The soldier on post one keyed his mic again. “I’ve got Colonel Edgewater in my sight right now. He’s outside the barrier and heading for the ridge.”

  “Copy that,” the soldier on post two responded. “I got an eyeball on him now. What the hell is he doing out there?”

  “You tell me,” the soldier one responded. “We need to—oh shit, what’s he doing?”

  Edgewater had fallen to his knees, now he was in the middle of a coughing fit. His muscles rippled and began to pulse and swell, expanding until his shirt ripped down the back and his M-16 fell away.

  Edgewater screamed; his scream became a roar that shattered the still morning air and built to a crescendo that shook the ground.

  The thing that was Edgewater rose to his feet, the rest of his clothes tearing and falling away like a snake shedding skin. His arms, legs, and chest expanded as he underwent a metamorphosis that turned him into a hulking beast. In the distance, a horde of the walking dead rose over the top of the ridge to answer the call of their leader.

  Edgewater raised his arms high and wide, welcoming them as they came down the side of the mountain toward him, descending on Faith in numbers larger than ever before.

  “Sound the warning siren,” the soldier on post two said. “Something’s about to go down and it’s not going to be good.”

  Twenty-Two

  Dalton and Abigail were startled awake by the blaring scream of emergency sirens. They were used to the sirens, which always accompanied an attack. They had no idea this time would be different.

  “Another attack,” Dalton said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his pants. “You stay here.”

  “I’m going with you,” Abby insisted.

  He wanted to tell her no, but one look in her eyes told him it would be pointless. She was stubborn. Her mind was made up.

  * * *

  Colbrook and Sarah were together in the squad car. They’d been on their way to work when the siren sounded. Now they were speeding along Main Street, with Colbrook doing his best to avoid hitting the soldiers scrambling from makeshift barracks, some of them still half naked. In the process, a military truck pulled out in front of the speeding squad car. Colbrook swe
rved to avoid it. Doing so put him on a collision course with a tank. He slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

  * * *

  Johnny and Wanda met Bobby and Terri Lynn in the living room of the house the four of them were sharing. Johnny was already loading a shotgun.

  “Another round of zombie hunt, kids,”

  Bobby and Terri Lynn, who’d gotten accustomed to guns since coming to Faith, were grabbing weapons from the closet. Terri Lynn tossed a .44 Magnum to Wanda, who caught it, checked the rounds, and said, “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The sky over Faith was pink and purple hued as the sun rose. U.S. fighter jets roared overhead. Joe and Edna stood outside the cafe, looking up at the jets as they flew overhead and circled back.

  “Thank God they’re not abandoning us,” Edna said.

  “It’s about time we get some reinforcements,” Joe added.

  * * *

  “What’s happening?” Billy asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he followed Jed and Jim to the porch.

  “That’s the siren that tells us we’re being attacked,” Jed said. “Gonna get my rifle and join the troops.” He pointed to the jets overhead. “Looks like we might have some help this time around.”

  “I’m coming too,” Jim said.

  “Count me in,” Billy added.

  “You stay here,” Jim said.

  “I have my own shotgun,” Billy argued. “I took care of myself before you found me. I don’t wanna sit here without doin’ my share.”

  Jim was about to object again. Jed laid a hand on his arm. “Let the boy make his own mind up,” he said. “It’s a different world we’re livin’ in.”

  Jim looked at Jed, then to Billy, and said, “All right, you come along, but you stay close, understand?”

  “I understand,” Billy said.

  “Now that that’s settled, let’s go kills us some zombies,” Jed said.

  * * *

  “Jets, Dalton,” Abigail said, clapping her hands in excitement. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

  “Maybe so,” he said, but there was a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake. Air force jets flying overhead when Edgewater had made it clear the military was out of it didn’t make sense to him.

  Abigail was too happy to detect Dalton’s lack of enthusiasm, and he wasn’t about to bring her down. If there was even a little hope for them, he meant to let her enjoy every bit of it.

  * * *

  “I don’t like it,” Colbrook said.

  “It’s good, right?” Sarah said. “I mean, it’s the military.”

  “I don’t like the formation. It looks like we might be part of the target.”

  “Part of the target? That’s insane. Why would they do that?”

  “Maybe there’s something here they don’t want to risk losing,” Colbrook said. “Maybe they’ve got a mistake to correct.”

  “You think they’d kill us all to do that?”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second,” he said, checking the chamber in his gun. “Not for a single second.”

  * * *

  Senior Airman Hensley keyed his mic. He’d flown missions in three combat zones, but never in his career had he seen anything like this.

  “Colonel Edgewater is the Alpha Male,” he said into the mic. “Confirm, Edgewater is the Alpha Male.”

  “What is his position?” a voice came back over the radio.

  “Target is converging on Faith,” Hensley said, “and he’s got a whole bunch of the dead with him.”

  “Are you prepared to engage?” the radio voice asked.

  “Mission is a go,” Hensley said.

  “There will be casualties—”

  “Roger that, mission is still a go,” Hensley said.

  “Then engage at will,” the voice on the radio responded.

  * * *

  What appeared to be a sea of dead flesh moved toward Faith, with more coming over the ridge. Hundreds had already reached the Faith barricade, with Edgewater in the lead. He’d become a hulk of a creature, towering over his minions, his blood red and his veins pulsating and squirming as the virus fed on itself in his veins.

  Edgewater tore through Faith’s barricade, tossing the heavy wood aside as if he were ripping apart a craft stick project. He stormed straight into town, overturning a truck full of soldiers in his path.

  The horde rushed in behind him and fanned out. The zombies in front took the bullets while others spilled past them and overwhelmed the soldiers by sheer numbers.

  Soldiers screamed as the dead swarmed over them, ripping limbs from their bodies and feasting on flesh. There were so many of the dead that the living didn’t stand a chance. Many of them turned their weapons on themselves, preferring to blow their brains out than to end up rising again.

  The first wave of firebombs slammed into Faith, spreading flames that engulfed zombies and soldiers alike. The screams of human suffering and banshee wails of the walking dead collided, along with sporadic bursts of gunfire and the roar of flames, until it was impossible to distinguish the sounds from one another.

  For several minutes flame and thick smoke prevented the fighter pilots from assessing damage. When the smoke cleared, they saw Edgewater was still on the move, barreling through the men he’d once commanded. He was lifting them like rag dolls, snapping their spines, and tossing them aside like garbage.

  “Target is not down,” Hensley said. “I repeat, target is not down. We’re going in again.”

  The jets came in for another round, incinerating more of the walking dead. Edgewater flipped a jeep onto its side just as the missiles found their targets. Flames engulfed the vicinity and spread out. The afterblast flattened buildings on all sides of the target zone. It looked from the air like this round was successful, then Edgewater emerged from a wall of flame, his skin bubbling, and charged after a group of soldiers trying to make their way to the safety of their trucks.

  The soldiers, reeling from the knowledge that they’d been abandoned and sacrificed by their government, didn’t realize Edgewater was coming. He tore through them, leaving a scattered trail of body parts in his wake.

  Edgewater was ground zero for a third assault, and while this one tore him to shreds, a good portion of Faith went with him.

  * * *

  “They’re blowin’ up the whole fuckin’ town,” Johnny said.

  He was trapped on the front porch with Wanda, Bobby, and Terri Lynn, surrounded by the infected dead. The four of them had fought like hell, but there was no getting around the horde.

  “Inside,” Johnny said, pushing Wanda toward the door. To Bobby and Terri Lynn, he said, “Go with her, both of you.”

  “What are you doing, Johnny?” Wanda demanded.

  “Get inside,” he barked, leaving no room for argument.

  Wanda held his gaze for a moment, wanting more than anything to stop him from whatever he was planning.

  “I gotta do this,” he said. “Let me and my five-hundred dollar suit get to the top of that ladder, okay?”

  How could she argue with that? Johnny Boscoe wanted to make it to the big time. This was his ticket.

  She kissed him and turned away, following Bobby and Terri Lynn inside.

  Johnny looked after her until the door closed, then he faced the horde.

  “Lock and load,” he said.

  He jumped from the porch and forced his way through the rotten motherfuckers, drawing as many as he could away from the house. He emptied his shotgun, then he used it like a baseball bat, mowing down anything that got in front of him.

  “Son of a bitches,” he yelled, angling toward the main skirmish at the front barrier of town.

  The help he expected there wasn’t forthcoming. A few soldiers opened fire, but they were quickly overwhelmed.

  Johnny fought until he went down too.

  * * *

  Edna and Joe fought side by side behind the counter that had served an endless parade of customers, part
icularly this past week. The infected came in the front and back doors, Deputies Johnson and Walker among them, maybe drawn to the diner by some deep-seated memory.

  There was no time for a cup of coffee or homemade pie this morning. There was only Edna and Joe, each with a pistol and limited ammunition, and they served up hot lead the same way they’d always served up food, with smiles on their faces.

  They died with dignity, while just outside the diner, Deputies Hagerman and Swanson went down the same way, firing their weapons until they were out of ammunition and could fight no more.

  * * *

  “Get in the car,” Colbrook said to Sarah.

  He climbed in behind the wheel and backed away from the fire zone, not even bothering to turn the car around until he was at the end of the street, then he glanced at the burning wasteland in his rearview mirror. He slammed on the brakes and pounded a fist against the steering wheel.

  “I’m going back,” he said. “I can’t just run away and leave everybody dying behind me. I want you to drive as far away from here as you can.”

  “Jeff, no . . .”

  “Go, Sarah. Get the hell away from here. If I think you’re safe, I’ll do better, but if I think you’re in the middle of this, I won’t be able to concentrate. Do you understand that?”

  She nodded.

  He took the shotgun from its mount, grabbed ammunition from the glove box, and leaned over to kiss Sarah, then he got out and headed back to the war zone on foot.

  * * *

  “Come on, you dead sons of bitches,” Jed said, raising his rifle to pick another one of the zombies off with a clean head shot.

  Jim was right behind him, shoving a fresh clip into his Uzi. Right beside Jim, now carrying a handgun (at Jim’s insistence), was Billy. The three of them advanced on the zombies, made a stand, then advanced some more.

  “I’m too damn old to let a bunch of smelly cadavers get the best of me,” Jed said. “I ain’t goin’ down without a fight.”

  “I hear you,” Jim said.

  He opened fire and sprayed a corpse in camouflage. The line of bullets cut across the zombie soldier’s chest, tearing through a name tag that read Pvt. Hawkins. Before the dead soldier could come at him again, Jim brought his Uzi up and let loose with a burst that took Pvt. Hawkins’ head right off.