Dead Coast: A Zombie Novel (Jack Zombie Book 4)

by Flint Maxwell

  “Look!” I say. “He’s here. Where the hell are we anyway?”

  Norm’s eyes narrow at the screen, then they blossom. “This is Eagle 12,” he says. Where that came from, I have no idea.

  Obviously, this is a trap. I’m grateful they haven’t shot us down. We’re probably too close for them to do that. Wherever we are.

  “Please divert your course, Eagle 12,” the static-y voice says again.

  “Requesting emergency landing,” Norm says. “Low fuel.”

  The static shuts off. There’s a large silence that follows. All of our eyes dart from each other’s faces to the screens to the open blue sky tinged with red zombie blood beyond the nose of the plane.

  “Request granted,” the voice says. “Landing bay — ”

  George slams his fist on the console, cutting the voice off. “I know damn well where to land. What? They think this is my fist flight? Hell no.”

  “C’mon, lets strap in,” Norm says.

  “Trap?” I ask him.

  “Most definitely,” he answers.

  My heart is beating abnormally fast. It’s the allure of human voices. Trap or not you don’t hear enough of them these days, but I know I need to be cautious. People are monsters, too.

  “How far are we from the Mojave?” I ask before leaving the cockpit.

  George glances at his instruments. “We’re right on the outskirts. We’re somewhere in Nevada,” he says.

  “I’ve always wanted to see Vegas,” Norm says.

  “Don’t think we will,” I say.

  I go back to the fuselage and strap in. Abby asks what’s going on and I tell her we’ve requested an emergency landing and we’re somewhere in Nevada. On cue, she flashes her pistol and I nod.

  We are going to have to fight. But that’s okay. I’ll do anything for Darlene.

  I feel the plane lurch downward on its descent and I also feel the desert heat baking me. I could be imagining that, or it could be my Ohio blood. I’m not used to heat like this.

  43

  The landing is rough, and Herb cries out a couple times.

  The plane screeches to a stop on the runway. What I like most is that there’s no wait for the plane to taxi, or for all of the passengers to crowd into the aisle, trying to retrieve their carry-on bags from the overhead containers. We all get up when we stop and we don’t have any luggage besides the few weapons we have between us, and the clothes — bloody and a little smelly — on our backs.

  “Well, we’re here,” George says.

  “Stay frosty,” Norm says.

  Abby rolls her eyes at him.

  I look out the window and see what looks like a military base. The hangars are painted green and almost all of them are full of fighter jets and tanks. It’s like apocalypse Christmas.

  “Army base?” I ask Norm.

  “None that I know,” he answers.

  “Look!” Herb shouts. “It’s just like the little green guys I used to play with. Me and my cousin Bo would play every Sunday after church when Auntie would — ”

  “Whoa, that’s a lot of guns,” Abby says.

  “Friends of Klein,” I say. “What’s the plan?”

  “Best we hide our weapons,” Norm says, leaning to look out the window next to me. “Play dumb.”

  “Screw that,” George says, “I need my plane back!”

  “Won’t matter if you’re dead,” I say.

  George looks at me as if I’m crazy. I don’t think we’ve filled him in on Klein’s plans. I don’t think I want to.

  I look out of the window. The men who do in fact look a little like toy soldiers surround our small plane, their weapons raised. Half a year ago, I’d be shitting my pants, but right now, I’m okay. This ain’t my first rodeo, either.

  “Come on,” I say.

  “Play it cool,” Norm says.

  I nod, but know there’s not a chance of living if we play it cool. So I put my plan into action and I’m the first to make a stupid decision. I shoot out the window looking onto the men. A few of them cower, caught off guard by the shot.

  Abby follows suit.

  “Well, not what I was expecting…” Norm says. He draws his gun and aims out the window. “Ah, what the hell.”

  George shouts, “Hey! My plane!”

  All the soldiers now have their weapons raised. These are not Butch’s soldiers, either. These are not even the everyday people from the village. These are the kind of soldiers you’d see recruiting on college campuses and around malls — cocky, arrogant.

  “We don’t want bloodshed,” one says. He has a camouflaged hat pulled low over his ears and he wears a sweat-stained shirt the same color of the surrounding sand and low mountains in the distance. He almost blends into the background, making him look like a floating head with sunglasses. “We’re supposed to keep you alive.”

  Bullshit, I think.

  “We don’t want bloodshed, either,” Norm says.

  “Yeah, this is between us and Klein!” I say. My heart beats hard. Herb whimpers behind me.

  “My names Mandy Duncan, Captain Mandy Duncan,” a woman says, stepping forward. She drops her gun and raises her hands. She knows we have the drop on them. We may be outnumbered, but we have the armor of the plane. We can pick them off one by one. I’m a good shot, so is everyone else.

  “Everyone drop their weapons,” I shout. Out of the corner of my eye I see George shaking his head.

  A long moment of silence follows my voice. Then Mandy says, “Very well,” and she waves to the other soldiers. One by one, they drop their weapons. Much to my surprise.

  The sound of a car in the distance turns all of our heads. A Jeep convertible, an Army-green color, comes toward us, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. I think about firing at it, but realize how stupid that would be.

  The Jeep stops a few feet short from the plane. A man wearing aviator shades and civilian clothes climbs out. He’s broad-shouldered and full of confidence, the type of guy you just want to punch in the face. Another man follows closely at his heels like a puppy. He holds a clipboard. He’s stooped, his face tan and wrinkled. He wears glasses almost exactly like Klein wears. They are both unfazed by this standoff.

  “Greetings,” the lead man says. His voice is about as confident as his stature. It makes you pay attention.

  “We want Klein!” I shout, “not small talk.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” the man says. “And I’d suggest none of you move. We have three snipers aimed at the backs of your heads. Some of the finest snipers left in this world.”

  I hold my breath. Fuck.

  “Good, now everyone throw your weapons out of the windows and come out with your hands up,” the man says.

  We are beaten. There may not be snipers, but I’m not risking it. Not with Darlene somewhere out here. I throw my gun. Reluctantly, Norm and Abby follow. Herb goes on whimpering.

  We file out of the plane, one by one.

  The man steps forward. “I’m not the enemy,” he whispers. And I look at him like What the hell? He gives me a glare that tells me not to ask questions…yet. Then louder, “My name is Scott Hill. I run this base, and we sentence you to death.”

  The crowd of soldiers burst into cheers.

  Roughly, Scott Hill grabs me and throws me to the ground. I don’t let him. I don’t go down easily. But in the end, I’ve lost regardless.

  We are all thrown to the ground and cuffed. Then we are thrown into the Jeep while the Army men go on cheering.

  Scott climbs into the driver’s seat and we’re off, tearing down the open runway toward a crop of squat gray buildings on the horizon. Prisoners, once again.

  We drive the stretch of military base for about half a mile. The cuffs bite into my wrist. I can think of nothing but Darlene, of getting out of them and killing everyone here to get to her.

  Then the Jeep turns into a long, narrow driveway which leads to a small hut-looking building. It’s on the very edge. Scott and the s
mall man, who I learn is named Joe, exchange an uncomfortable glance as the Jeep stops.

  I’ll have to be quick. Quicker than I’ve ever been. This isn’t the arena of Eden, I’ll have my hands behind my back and no weapon. Scott turns around. I think, for a moment, we are about to be executed, not even given a chance.

  But Scott doesn’t draw on us. He doesn’t do anything like I expect him to do, and I’m grateful for that.

  He looks me square in the eyes and he says, “If you guys want to get at Central, you’ll have to be smarter than landing your aircraft in the middle of a war zone.”

  And we are all left speechless.

  44

  Scott ushers us into a small room. The walls are wood paneled, the smell is of cigars and sweat. There’s a rug on the floor. It’s old and pock-marked, like something they might’ve dug out of the trash.

  Joe sets his clipboard down on the desk and takes what looks like an iPhone out of his hip pocket. We all just kind of watch with awe. It’s been so long, it seems, since we’ve seen a smart phone. He presses the screen, swipes a few times, and this high-piercing noise comes out from the speakers. I instantly grip my ears and grimace.

  Herb says, “Ow!”

  Then the sound stops and Joe nods at Scott. Scott looks up at the ceiling. I notice there are three tiny black balls hanging from the tile, like lifeless eyes. I’m reminded of security cameras in department stores.

  “You sure?” Scott says.

  “What is going on?” I ask. Seriously. What the hell is going on?

  Scott holds a finger up to me and Joe nods at him.

  “Okay, sorry,” Scott says, “Joe had to scramble the communications.”

  Norm is nodding his head vigorously like he understands. Abby folds her arms, tucking her missing hand beneath her right elbow. I just kind of gawk, my mouths hanging open, probably looking stupid as hell. Two minutes ago I thought I was dead. I was sure of it.

  “They’re listening, they’re always listening,” Scott says. He looks paler out of the sunlight and believe it or not, he’s actually sweating.

  “Who is?” I ask.

  “Central. Isn’t that why you’re here?” Scott says. To take Klein and them down?”

  My group and I all look at each other, narrowing our eyes. “Central?” I ask.

  “We don’t know Central,” Norm says.

  “We know that dickbag Klein, though,” Abby says.

  “Yeah, he has my fiancé,” I say. “Have you seen her?”

  Scott nods. “The blonde? Yeah, we saw her.”

  Holy shit. She’s alive. Oh thank you God. I couldn't think about her dead anymore. I just couldn't. It would kill me. I want to sprint forward and hug this man whom I barely know. I want to jump and scream at the top of my lungs. I want to do all of this, but I know it's not over yet. I still have to save her. And goddamn it, I'm going to.

  “Is…she okay?” I say, almost choking up. Abby grabs my shoulder and squeezes. I’m really on the brink of tears.

  Joe nods. “Beat up, but okay. The men from Central took her and Klein back to their base.”

  “Who is Central?” Norm practically shouts, causing Herb to jump. “We said we don’t know them.”

  “You’re not supposed to,” Joe says. “They are running this camp. They keep us safe, keep us ignorant.” Joe pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stands a little straighter. “But we’ve gone out to the territories. We’ve seen what they do. We’ve seen the zombies.”

  The way he’s talking makes it sound like zombies are some great conspiracy theory.

  “So wait,” Norm says, looking Joe square in the face. He flinches at his glare. “Hasn’t everyone seen the zombies?”

  I tune most of the conversation out. I’m too happy to hear about Darlene. I can’t sit around and waste anymore time.

  Scott takes a deep breath. “It’s kind of hard to explain without sounding crazy.”

  “Please try,” Abby says. “You can’t get crazier than zombies.”

  “She’s right,” Norm says.

  Abby gives him a wink.

  “Well, this was a quarantine camp that turned to a prison camp that turned to an electroshock, brainwashing camp,” Scott says.

  Joe’s eyes are distant with the memory, I think. He shakes slightly.

  “Those down there were brainwashed,” Scott says.

  “Yeah, that’s crazy,” Norm says.

  “Man, what did y’all get me into?” George bellows. He goes and stands over by Herb, doing his best to ignore us.

  Herb doesn’t notice George. He stares up at one of the black balls, oohing and ahhing — just being Herb, I guess.

  “And what about you two?” Norm says, eying the two men who are suddenly not as intimidating to me.

  “We found the truth. We found out about Project Reset — ”

  “That’s it,” I say. “That’s what we’re trying to prevent,” snapped out of my scheming.

  Joe smiles and Scott looks a little relieved.

  “Good,” Scott says. “We thought so. What organization are you with? Are you with Redhawk? Lola?”

  Norm crosses his eyes and shakes his head.

  What kind of name is Lola for a secret organization? Sounds like what a kid would name his dog or something.

  “No,” I say. “I’m just out for vengeance.”

  Scott nods as if he understands, but I don’t think he could ever truly understand. “I can respect that,” Scott says.

  “Pretty,” Herb says, dreamily, interrupting us all. Scott and Joe give him a glance then turn back to us. But Joe snaps his gaze back at Herb, a worried look on his face. I look over at him. Their heads are tilted up.

  “Get away from that,” Joe says. This catches me by surprise. I don’t like his tone. I sense danger.

  A red light is flashing on in the black glass balls.

  “Shit,” Scott says under his breath. “How long?”

  “Can’t be long,” Joe answers. “Still coming back online.” He pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and swipes.

  “Listen, we don’t have much time,” Scott says. He rushes over to us. My heart stutters because it’s like he’s almost going to hit me or something.

  Scott doesn’t hit me, though. He grabs my hand. His palms are sweaty. He is shaking. I feel fear gripping my throat. “There’s a lake past the mountains on the west side. That’s where Klein went. Central came and took him and your fiancé as soon as they landed. They have the plans and there’s talk of starting the project within the next forty-eight hours. That’s a rumor Joe picked up, so we don’t know for sure. It could be sooner, could be later, or it could be right now.”

  This is not good.

  Scott squeezes my hands until I’m grimacing and my bones feel like they’re grinding together.

  Norm steps between us. Scott lets go. “Okay, mountains, west side, got it. What else?”

  “There’s a town. A ghost town beyond the fences Central put up to keep us ’safe.’ The town was erected around the gold rush in the 1800s,” Scott continues, talking a mile a second. My head whirls with information.

  “Bullshit,” George says.

  “Every town is a ghost town now,” Abby says.

  “But this is a place that never updated,” Joe says. “You’ll see. It looks like an old Western movie set.”

  “Okay,” I say, it's weird how the Western movie genre comes back to haunt me all the time. “Then what?”

  “There’s a place called Blood Rock. It’s not advertised or anything, but you’ll see what I mean when you get there. That’s where Central’s located — ”

  A car door slams outside of the building. We all jump simultaneously. All of us except for Norm and Herb. Norm because he’s just badass like that, barely afraid of anything besides his own guilt and demons about being gay; and Herb because he’s still looking at the blinking red dot in the black ball of glass.

  “Shit,” Scott says turning to the door. He pulls a
gun seemingly out of nowhere and aims at it. I follow suit and so does Abby and Norm.

  That momentarily excitement tingles throughout my body. The electric buzz of a battle yet to be fought.

  George turns to the door and just as he does, the wood explodes open from what sounds like a grenade. The very foundation of the building shakes. Dust comes down from the rafters. A cloud of smoke chokes the room, distorting the surroundings. The front desk and Joe’s clipboard are vaporized. Shards of shrapnel fly through the air. George chokes out a cry. I’m almost frozen, cowering down, feeling the warmth of the fire and the smoke.

  Vaguely, I see the outline of George turn toward us. The blood dripping from his mouth is a vivid red. A piece of the wooden door juts out from his neck. His eyes bulge.

  “George!” I scream, lurching toward him.

  But Norm grips me and holds me in place.

  “Go! Go!” Scott yells at us. He hands me a set of keys and another gun then pushes us toward the back with a wave of both hands. “We’ll hold them off. Just stop them. Stop Central at all costs!”

  I have the gun in my hand, I don’t plan on running. If I run, these people who plan on destroying the world might get away it.

  The cloud of dust and smoke settles low over the ground. George writhes in pain, choking out. It hurts to watch. Not only does the smoke sting my eyes, but the tears do, too. I’m not stupid enough to think there’s anything I can do to save him. He’s gone. It’s only a matter of time.

  Abby and Herb have already filed through the back door.

  Scott and I look at each other, understanding in both of our eyes. It’s like he’s passing me the torch. We nod. He grips his gun tighter, the whites of his knuckles showing through his tan flesh, and then he turns to the door and screams.

  George has quit moving. George is dead.

  I watch as the first silhouettes of men burst through the smoke, their guns raised. Sparks light the air and thunder rumbles and shots go off. Joe is cut down by a bullet. The top of his head rips off. It’s not clean. There’s a spray of blood — no, a fountain of it.

  That’s all I see because Norm is screaming into my ear, “C’mon!” as the distant rumble of gunfire rocks the room next to us. I feel numb. My ears are ringing. And the world seems dead. I have to go for Darlene. I have to stay alive.