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

by Flint Maxwell

I lean up against the cold wall inside of the vent, my eyes closed — as if it would make a difference, I can barely make out anything in this darkness anyway.

  “We go that way,” I say, pointing down the tunnel. My throat feels like it’s closing up to the size of a pinhole. I can’t show this, though. I can’t show my fear in anyway. I told Abby we have to stop being scared, we have to do what we have to do, and we have to keep going forward. So I crawl on the rough surface, past Abby, and toward the unknown, toward Darlene.

  64

  Not long after we start moving, I hear voices.

  Two of them at first. One is Klein’s, the other is a woman’s. Then, one more. My heart leaps. I stop moving, Abby bumping into me.

  It’s Darlene.

  “Don’t touch me, you asshole,” she says.

  Oh thank you God.

  “Darlene,” Abby says.

  “Be careful what you call me,” Klein says.

  I’m excited and petrified. What if I’ve stumbled upon her execution? “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” Darlene says.

  Klein chuckles. “You’re much too pretty to be killed. Your looks and brains can be useful to our future.

  The other woman cackles. Chills go up my spine.

  “What do you say about becoming a breeder for the New World Nation? You certainly have the hips.”

  “Fuck you,” Darlene says. Faintly, I hear her spit and Klein makes a sound of disgust. I need to find a way into there. I need to find away to Darlene. God, I’m freaking out. The walls are closing in. Abby seems to get farther and farther away from me.

  “You don’t have much of a choice,” Klein says.

  The other woman laughs again, then she says, “Start the process, Robert. Start it before that pesky Jupiter finds us.” She sounds distinguished. Like maybe she had some well-upbringing where dinner was escargot and champagne every night and the kids got whatever they wanted, including that Jaguar on their sixteenth birthday. Then again, there’s an edge to this voice. She sounds like she eats people and spits out their bones.

  “No way he can get through that door. And in thirty minutes, it won’t matter. He’ll be turned to ash,” Klein says. “Then Darlene and I can work on repopulating.”

  The rage sizzles inside of me. We’ll see about that, I think.

  Abby reaches out and I see her hand pressing up against the tunnel’s wall, like she’s searching for something. The paleness of her hand bobs in the darkness. She gasps.

  My heart does a flip.

  “Here,” she says. “It’s rotten. Feel it.”

  I reach out. The wall is slimy with moisture, but whatever the structure is made out of is softer than its surroundings. Rotten.

  Fuck yes.

  “No, Robert, I can’t wait. These things are meant to act on a moment’s notice. They were built for war. War doesn’t allow the taking of time,” the woman says.

  “You don’t understand,” Klein says. Their voices are echoey, almost tinny. “With the spread of the disease, no one was there to keep them up and running. I’m sure you heard all about the reactor meltdown in California, right?”

  The woman doesn’t answer.

  “Central had their fingerprints all over that one, didn’t they? When there’s no one there to keep things running, machinery and equipment fail, Mrs. May.”

  “Then what was Mick’s crew doing? Huh? Were they just sitting around with their thumbs up each other’s asses?” the woman named Mrs. May says.

  Klein laughs. No humor in it. “I’d love to ask Mick, but I can’t because he’s dead. Because you killed him. What do you know?”

  “Spare me your sarcasm, Robert. I’m not above killing you, either,” she says.

  Klein laughs again. This time there is humor in it. “You wouldn’t survive without me.”

  “You want to see if that’s true, Robert? Do you want to see if that’s really true?”

  Oh, man. There’s something in her voice worse than the edge. It’s the recklessness, I think. It’s the fact that she knows she’s wrong, she couldn’t survive without Klein, yet she’s willing to kill him just to prove a point. My grandmother would’ve called this cutting your nose off to spite your face.

  I press the rotten wall again. I need to find a way inside before I’m too late.

  Klein doesn’t speak for a long time, it seems. I feel Abby closer to me, the warmth radiating off of her flesh in waves.

  Then Klein talks and his voice is about as flat as every bottle of soda out in the wasteland that is our world. “It will take some time. I’m sorry, Margo. That’s the way it has to be. Surely you can wait thirty minutes.”

  Mrs. May, or apparently Margo, shrieks. Something clunks off of something else. I’m hoping it’s a ball point hammer to Klein’s head — then again, I want to be the one that gets him. More objects fall over. Glass shatters. I’m thinking computer monitor or television. “There’s three hundred people waiting for you to hit the button, Klein.”

  “I will hit the button when I'm ready to,” Klein says.

  “Hit it now!”

  More objects crashing.

  “A temper tantrum isn’t going to get you any — ” Faintly, I hear Klein grunt. “Oh that’s nice. Go right ahead. Hit the button. Hit it as much as you want. It’s not going to do anything until it’s ready.”

  Mrs. May shrieks.

  “That’s it! You’re not allowed inside. Your membership has been revoked,” she says. “And I’m killing your friend.”

  Darlene. No!

  I pick up the gun. My hands shake so bad, I almost can’t do it.

  The gun feels like nothing. I wouldn’t know I’m holding it if the butt of the rifle wasn’t pressed up against my chest. The feeling has gone.

  I pull the trigger.

  65

  I hold it down — only counting three shots — until the rotten metal in front of me is no more and bright white light floods the darkness. I’m falling, falling, falling. I’m Alice down the rabbit hole. Abby is with me. We are suspended in mid-air. Falling forever.

  Then we’re not.

  Then we hit.

  Someone screams. A high-pitched shrill scream. Sweet air fills my lungs. Sweet, clean air. I try to open my eyes, but the pain is almost unbearable. I can’t move. My lungs are the only thing working, it seems. Taking in the good air, pushing out the bad. In, out, in, out.

  With the good air comes the clarity. The empty headedness. The sweet air, the sweet, sweet air. I open my eyes. The lights inside of the building burn me. We are in a big room. I’ve hit a table. It’s now flipped over, shielding me. Abby lays nearby, unmoving.

  “Abby!” I shout.

  “Shoot him!” Mrs. May’s voice.

  I get up on my knees. I can see over the table, now. I’ve flipped over a bunch of files. Papers cover the floor like snowfall. Klein and Mrs. May stare at me with wide eyes, growing wider. Darlene is behind them, tied to a chair.

  Abby lays by my left, unmoving, eyes closed. Is she dead? No, I can’t worry about that yet. I have to save Darlene.

  But the woman named Mrs. May says otherwise. She is ready to kill me. Lipstick on her teeth looks like blood. She holds an axe above her head. Not far away from her is a broken glass box, the shards glittering in the blinding light where the axe – and my possible demise – has come from. Everything is in slow motion.

  I realize I have to move, but her face, her stature. She looks like a caveman exhibit in some museum. Of course, she looks a little more modern with her flowery dress and her makeup and permed hair, but she also looks just as vicious, just as primitive.

  I have to move.

  The axe’s sharp edge catches a bit of light and twinkles. With my lungs burning for the scream and my hands bloody, leaving streaks on the floor, I move. Time goes back to normal.

  “You bastard! You no good, rotten bastard!” Mrs. May shrieks. The axe buries itself into the floor. The sound is like a can opener. It makes the fillings in the back of my
teeth ache.

  I’m on my knees. So much fear invades my brain and my heart.

  “You’ve ruined this! This is all your fault! You’ve ruined this!” Mrs. May says. She looks rabid, crazed. Spit flies from her lips. Flabby arms quiver.

  The axe comes down again. I’m not as fast this time. And it comes down in super fast motion. She nicks me with the edge before it clobbers the hard floor. Sparks fly up from the hit. A terrible burning sensation engulfs my back. I scream.

  She throws her whole body into the movement of unearthing the axe. This large woman. Oh, God, help me.

  I’m on my hands and knees. I feel blood spilling from the left side of my back. I can’t stay here. I catch eyes with Darlene as I see Klein going over to her, a gun in his hand. This gives me strength. I see the carbine a few feet away. I lunge, roll, grab it.

  Mrs. May screams again. I look up to see her rushing at me. I can’t move fast enough.

  She has the axe in both hands, raised above her head. Mascara runs from the corners of her eyes like black tears.

  My body tenses up, expecting a blade to the gut. I can’t scream. I can’t talk.

  I don’t have to.

  I let the carbine do the talking for me.

  Two shots explode from the muzzle, their sounds deafening.

  Both shots catch Mrs. May in the middle. Her flowered dress begins to color itself in. Yellow daisies turn to red roses. The axe drops from her hand, gone behind her head. It clatters and bounces with a noise almost louder than the gunshots.

  Both hands, wrinkled and varicose veined, go to her stomach. Her dress crinkles as she grips for dear life.

  I’m breathing really hard. My lungs are still burning. My head still feels stuffed. Reality seems so far away, yet here I am, doing what I’ve been doing for almost a year. Killing people. Taking lives. Defending myself and my family. Now, defending this world.

  Except, Mrs. May doesn’t die. Despite the grimace on her face and the blood seeping through her laced fingers, she’s still up.

  But not for long.

  She takes three rickety steps toward me, her face twisting in pain, blood pattering the floor. She screams and falls over, dead.

  I don’t waste anymore time. I whirl on Klein. He has his gun pressed against Darlene’s head. She’s crying.

  “Don’t move!”

  Fuck that.

  66

  I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’m confident, now.

  “This is for Herb,” I say.

  I squeeze the trigger, hoping there’s at least one more shot left. That’s all I need — just one shot.

  Klein’s mouth drops open and he lets out a scream of protest that is quickly cut off by the bullet.

  My aim was true. The bullet takes Klein in the middle of the forehead.

  Bullseye.

  It’s subtle. His scalp doesn’t peel off. His brains don’t spray to the ceiling. None of that. Just one single red hole slightly above his left eye. A rivulet of blood trickles from the smoking wound, coloring the lenses of his glasses.

  Darlene shrieks.

  Klein’s dead hand goes limp and his pistol clatters on the floor. He follows it soon after.

  Darlene and I just stare at each other for a moment. Unbelievingly.

  “Jack,” she says, breathing hard.

  I smile and let the carbine fall from my hands. I rush over to her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and I kiss her like it’s the end of the world.

  I look around and see Abby. She's moving. Oh, thank God. I couldn't lose her, either. She has a cut on her forehead and is a little bloody, but she gets up.

  “I knew you’d come for me,” Darlene says. I untie her binds. “I knew you would.”

  “I’d do anything for you, Darlene,” I say. And it’s true. I would. This woman is the reason I’m alive. She’s the reason for everything good in my life. There’s no point of going on without her.

  “Look,” Abby says, rubbing her head, “this is nice and all, but we should get out of here.”

  I nod. Darlene gets out of the chair, rubbing her wrists.

  The computer terminal between the door and the rubble from where Abby and I fell out of blinks with ghostly light.

  “One last thing,” I say.

  “Jack, I don’t think you should mess with that,” Darlene says.

  If I don’t, the bombs very well could fall. “Don’t worry,” I say. Darlene’s face eases, like she believes I actually know what I’m doing.

  Turns out, I do. The screen is very straightforward. There’s a button that reads SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE. I press it and a message pops up telling me Project Reset has been halted.

  I know it can never truly be shutdown, not until we make sure the nuclear bombs are disabled, and not even I, Jack Jupiter, could do that.

  Abby puts her arm around Darlene and they head for the iron door that leads to the long stairwell.

  But this is good enough. If another madman decides it’s time to end the world, I’ll be there to stop them. I will.

  As I’m scanning the computer screen, something catches my eye. CLEANSE, the button reads. I hover the mouse over it. A brief description tells me what it is: IN THE EVENT OF THIS FACILITY BEING COMPROMISED, WE MUST PREVENT THE INFORMATION AND WEAPONS FROM WINDING UP IN THE WRONG HANDS. SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE WILL BE INITIATED IN TEN MINUTES.

  I look up from the screen at Abby and Darlene. This can buy us more time, I think. This can make sure no one uses this facility like Klein planned on using it. “How fast do you think you guys can get out of here?” I ask.

  Abby shakes her head.

  “What?” Darlene asks.

  I hit the button.

  A klaxon blares. It’s eardrum shattering. We run through the door as red lights bathe us and a siren spurs us forward. I feel the very foundation of the mountain shaking. Pebbles fall from the ceiling. Dust drifts from new fissures in the rock.

  We go down the stairs as fast as we can. Darlene’s hand is in mine. Abby’s hand is in Darlene’s. The air begins to taste sweeter. I smell the water.

  But I also smell the death.

  An explosion rattles the stairwell. Darlene screams as we have to jump the last few steps onto the shaky ground.

  “C’mon!” I shout, looking at the door still halfway open. The air behind us grows hot — fire. The alarm wails and wails. I usher Darlene and Abby onto the beach. They go through. I risk a last glance at the destruction, see the flames billowing out from high in the mountain. And I nod.

  Fuck you, Klein and fuck you, Central.

  The mountain makes a sound like the earth is splitting open. Glass built into its facade shatters and falls a long way onto the beach. We keep sprinting, never looking back.

  The boat is still beached. Darlene and Abby get in and I push them out into the lake. The cold water invades my body. It feels good compared to the heat emanating from the destruction behind.

  Then I jump into the boat. We paddle with our hands, toward the other side where the zombies amble about, yellow eyes bobbing in the distance.

  “Where’s Herb and Norm?” Darlene asks once we are safe and the heat no longer reaches us.

  I can only shake my head.

  She brings a hand up to her mouth.

  “Norm is still out there,” Abby says. She sits near the prow. Darlene is in my arms. “But Herb…”

  Darlene starts to sob, her body shaking against mine. I stroke her hair. I kiss her. I try to make her feel all right, but I know we never will.

  The boat floats lazily, though it floats toward the beach. I have Klein’s pistol. There’s not many shots left. We will have to make a run for it.

  “I hope Norm is okay,” I say, thinking of my brother. We are already down one.

  Darlene squeezes my arm. My body starts to hurt. Stiffening from the running and fighting, the lack of sleep and a good meal. It seems there’s never any rest for us, for our little group.

  “He will be,” Abby says. “If we can
make it, Norm can, too.”

  I nod, smiling.

  The zombies don’t seem to notice us until we are a few feet from the shore. Darlene quivers, but she won’t scream. We are deathly quiet. I still see the dark stain of Herb’s blood in the sand. I wish I hadn’t noticed it. It’s impossible not to.

  “The fight’s not over yet,” I whisper.

  Abby nods. Darlene does nothing.

  I raise the gun, ready to fire if a zombie should get too close. They walk toward us as we splash up onto the shore. There’s about twenty of them.

  “We’ll have to run for it,” I say. I look to Darlene. She is very pale in the moonlight. “You two go, I’ll cover you.”

  Now Darlene looks as if I’ve hit her. “No, Jack, I’m not splitting up again. I’m not going to be without you.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” I say.

  Abby grabs Darlene’s arm and pulls. Her heels dig down into the wet sand.

  “Go!” I say. Then I start to shout at the zombies. “Come on, uglies. Come on, you bastards.” They turn their dripping faces toward me. I feel coldness throughout my body. They walk jerkily. “Yeah, that’s right! C’mon! C’mon, assholes!” I start to sing at the top of my lungs. “OH BEAUTIFUL, FOR SPACIOUS SKIES — ”

  Darlene and Abby crest the small rise. Safe.

  I walk backward, still singing our dead nation’s anthem. “ABOVE THE FRUITED PLAINS!” really hitting that high note.

  I trip, land on my ass with a grunt. That’s the end of my song. By this time, they’re surrounding me. Damn it. I pull the trigger, really hoping it wouldn’t have come down to this. I blow the face off an emaciated man in a straitjacket. More reach out.

  The moon’s light dims as their shadows engulf me. Fuck. This is it. This is how I die. I shoot again, buying myself more time.

  “Jack!” Darlene screams. She sounds far away. “Jack…JACK!”

  Then a car horn blares. I hear tires eating the ground. A revving engine. A sleek black car — one of Central’s cars — flies over the small hill and smashes into the remaining zombies. There’s a sickening crunch of bodies devoured by steel and rubber. Blink and you miss it.