BONUS MATERIAL
These two stories that follow were released on a pay site but are being added here as a bonus. I hope you enjoy another couple of peeks into the Dying Days world!
Dying Days: Downtown From Hell
Dying Days: The Scorpion
Dying Days: Downtown From Hell
The metallic sound came again, this time closer.
“Hold,” Keenan whispered to his two companions.
Michelle mock saluted him but Gloria closed her eyes and began to pray. The woman prayed at every slight thing: she prayed as she ate, she prayed when she thought there was danger, and she even prayed when she was going to the bathroom. The woman was driving Keenan nuts.
Michelle got up close to Keenan, too close, and he tried to think of the last time any of them had taken a shower or even scrubbed some dirt off in rain water.
“I’m telling you, it’s nothing,” Michelle said. “I used to work downtown and I’d hear these noises all the time. It’s a tenant in one of these office buildings with a stupid wind-chime hanging in their window or someone living in the apartments upstairs over the bookstore who left their windows open before they were ripped apart and eaten.”
Michelle was a morbid chick, but it was better than being alone. Keenan hated being out here on his own, especially at night when the monsters could sneak up on you without a sound.
“We’re burning daylight. It will be dark soon.” Michelle pointed down the street. “I used to work at the building on the left, across from the bookstore. Eleventh floor. Lots of office space and a water cooler. There might still be snacks in my desk, too.”
Except for the noise they heard every now and then, the street was deserted. Nothing moved. The buildings looked intact. No fire damage. There were three abandoned cars in front of the building Michelle had pointed out, but he didn’t see any monsters.
That could change in a second, though. Keenan remembered the silent attack on 103rd Street, when a horde came out of nowhere and surrounded the group he’d been with. It was a total annihilation, only three people of the twenty-seven surviving. And Keenan had watched the other two die soon enough.
He’d grown up in Jacksonville. Played football and basketball at First Coast. Grew up near the airport. Worked at the Denny’s after high school when no college was going to pay for his way, no sports scholarships were coming, and his parents made too much for Keenan to get any financial aid. He swore someday he’d go to college and finish his education…
“Are you daydreaming again?” Michelle asked, pulling Keenan out of his thoughts.
“No. I’m fine. Let’s go,” Keenan said. He glanced at Gloria, who had her eyes closed and was gripping the broken rosary beads wrapped in her filthy fingers. She’d follow once she realized they were on the move again.
“Once we get inside the lobby we can get to the stairs. The door is locked but I know how to get it open,” Michelle said.
“You pick locks now?”
Michelle grinned and pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. “I have the keys to the building. Swiped them when I worked there so when the damn elevators died, which they did every other week, I could get up the stairs… and get into my bosses office and make sure she wasn’t writing me up for something stupid.”
“You must’ve been a pleasure to work with,” Keenan said.
* * * * *
The lobby was small and cluttered with debris. Someone had set the furniture on fire at some point, the smell of burnt wood still present even though a layer of dust and dirt covered the area since the front doors had been smashed open.
“How long did you work here?” Keenan asked, more to calm his nerves than to make conversation with Michelle.
“Almost two years, which is about twice as long as any job previous to this one. It was a good job except for the boss. She drove me nuts. I really hope she’s long gone,” Michelle said.
“I hope everyone escaped,” Keenan said.
Michelle laughed as they stepped through the debris and got to the stairway door. “Oh, no. I hope she’s gone as in she got bitten and died a horrible death.”
“Something tells me if she lived she isn’t missing working with you.”
Michelle shrugged and unlocked the door. She pushed it open a few inches but couldn’t get it open further.
Keenan, who stood more than head taller than the girl, used his flashlight over her shoulder. They both saw the grisly remains of someone against the door.
“Gross,” Michelle said.
Keenan went back to the lobby and found some broken pieces of furniture. He glanced outside but didn’t see any movement, and realized Gloria was gone. She wasn’t down the street still praying, either. He didn’t care. She was odd and never helped, and he’d met too many people coming and going since this started.
When Keenan got back to the stairwell door, Michelle had already moved the stiff body away. She turned to Keenan and smiled. “You’re too delicate a flower, buddy. I pushed her away with my foot. Let’s go.”
“How did you know it was a her?” Keenan asked.
Michelle shrugged. “Who knows and who cares. Shut the door behind you.” She began walking up the steps without a flashlight.
Keenan sighed and followed. There was something really off with her. He turned his flashlight on and used it to see in front of them. A glance with the beam at the corpse told Keenan she was guessing it had been a woman.
They walked in silence up to the eleventh floor, Michelle pausing to let Keenan catch up.
“You ready?” she asked. “I don’t know what’s on the other side of the door. It could be filled with zombies, man.”
Keenan nodded. They had no weapons to fight with, and he’d relied on his strength and cunning to survive this long. In movies and TV shows, everyone was always armed to the teeth. Keenan hadn’t had even a broomstick to use in over a week, once the last one snapped on the thick skull of a zombie.
“I’m going to open the door,” Michelle said, holding the keys. She looked at Keenan. “You want me to go first?”
Keenan shook his head. If nothing else, he was still trying to be a gentleman. Even to someone as strange as Michelle. He slipped past her and took the key from her hand, putting it into the lock.
Michelle nodded at Keenan. He realized he was holding his breath.
Keenan turned the key and heard the loud click as the lock mechanism disengaged. The door was open… all he had to do was pull on it.
Michelle tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Move.”
He opened the door. The light coming in from the windows showed him nothing out of the ordinary. Just a carpeted corridor leading to office space.
Keenan moved slowly, listening for anything out of the ordinary. He passed an open door and saw it was the break room. The refrigerator, counters, table and chairs were still intact. In fact, everything was clean. He didn’t see dust anywhere. He turned back to Michelle and put a finger to his lips.
Michelle nodded, looking around.
There was someone living in the space, Keenan was sure of it. He looked in another office and saw it was neat. The computer monitor sitting on top of the desk had been wiped clean of dust. Everything looked like it was Monday morning and the office was ready for another boring day of work.
They reached a side hallway and Keenan could see it led to the bathrooms. He smiled. When was the last time he’d used an actual toilet or washed his face in a sink? Every sink he’d run into in the last year was caked with dirt and blood and worse.
Before he could comment, a zombie walked around the corner between Keenan and the bathroom, silent as it shuffled. It was missing its left arm and part of its head. Keenan didn’t know if it had been a man or a woman. It didn’t matter.
“Shit. How’d she get out?” Michelle asked behind him.
Keenan turned, confused.
Michelle smiled as she swung the chair and smashed Keenan in the face with it.
* * * * *
>
When he came to he couldn’t see out of his right eye. It was swollen shut and Keenan tasted blood on his cracked lips. He tried to sit up but he couldn’t move.
Michelle was sitting on the edge of a desk over him. She smiled.
“What are you doing?” Keenan managed. His head was hurting and when he tried to focus his good eye he knew he was wrapped up in thick room and lying on the carpet in an office.
“I’m just sitting here watching you sleep. You know you snore, right?” Michelle got off the desk and leaned down to Keenan. “I needed to make sure you weren’t going to find my secret stash.”
“I’m not sure I understand…” Keenan shook his head, trying to stay focused despite the pain. “Why did you hit me with a chair?”
Michelle shrugged. “I always use the chair. It’s heavy and doesn’t break like the wooden ones I used to have. And most people coming up to the eleventh floor never bother stopping in the break room but always look down the hallway to the bathrooms. I’ve become really good at timing it.”
“But why?”
“For your stuff, obviously. Every little crumb helps now. I hit a guy a couple of weeks ago and he was carrying three Rolex watches. Three. How cool is that? I’m sure I’ll find someone, someday, to trade one of them for a box of Ritz crackers. Something I could use.”
“You’re insane,” Keenan said.
Michelle tapped her temple with a finger. “I’m smart.”
“You already know I don’t have anything.”
“You’re wearing clothes. I can trade them. Wash your shirt and use it for something. I’m resourceful.” Michelle looked past Keenan. “And when you’re no longer any use to me I’ll kill you and add you to my growing collection on another floor. As my guard dog.”
Keenan smiled.
Michelle leaned close to his face again. “What’s so funny, dead man?”
“The fact that you don’t see what’s going on is funny,” Keenan said in a whisper.
“What?” Michelle leaned closer.
Keenan used all his remaining strength to head-butt Michelle and knock her out.
* * * * *
Michelle opened her eyes and wasn’t surprised to see she was bound in the rope she used. But the bonds were tight, cutting off circulation in her arms and legs.
Keenan, spooning out peanut butter with his fingers, appeared in her line of sight. He licked his fingers and nodded at her.
“Let me go. We can work together,” Michelle said.
“Oh, we’re beyond that point, honey. If you’d been honest with me I would’ve helped you. I’ve killed a few people for no other reason than this.” Keenan held up the peanut butter jar. “We would’ve been perfect together.”
“It’s not too late. We can call it even,” Michelle said.
Keenan shook his head. “You made a mistake. You got cocky and thought you could subdue anyone. But your rope skills were lacking, honey. It was easy to undo them once I rolled around a bit. My eye still hurts like a bitch but you have enough stuff in the first aid kit to heal me back in no time. And you have enough supplies to keep me going for weeks. The zombies on the other floors? Great security. And you’ll be captain of the watch now.”
“Please…” Michelle whispered.
Keenan finished the last of the peanut butter and stood over Michelle. “Let’s get you comfortable. I’m not going to kill you. I’m not an animal like you. But you are going to the third floor. And then I’m going to find Gloria and bring her back here.”
Dying Days: The Scorpion
Patricia Donaldson idly checked her pressed suit for creases as she stood near the service elevator and waited for the guards to bring Jonah Grandon back to the courtroom. There would be many photo opportunities after he was found guilty of multiple counts of rape and torture, but she wanted an initial shot of them before the verdict.
She checked her makeup with her compact. There was no way she’d be photographed with lipstick on her teeth or her mascara running. This was the case that could – should – propel her straight to the top of the Brooklyn District Attorney’s short list of potential candidates.
Jonah Grandon was guilty, pure and simple. There was no big fight on his lawyer’s part. In fact, they had a solid confession from the rapist that the Daily News had named The Scorpion because of his tell-tale scorpion tattoo on his stomach.
The case could have easily been wrapped up and finished within days, but Patricia’s superiors had decided to take this one to court and ask for the death penalty, which had not happened in New York State since 1976. [i]If anyone should be killed, it would be this scumbag,[/i] Patricia thought.
The trial had been big business, with Patricia’s name and likeness on every major and minor Tri-State area newspaper, her interviews quoted on every news program and interviews on both Nancy Grace and a full hour of the case on CNBC, where she was once again interviewed.
She’d laughed at the proper times, frowned and looked disconcerted when needed, and remembered the prepared statement the office had written about not being able to talk about specifics of the case but how she cared and grieved for those poor, poor people who lost a family member to this butcher.
“Where are the cameras?” she whispered. She’d sent the intern – Jim? John? – downstairs to let channels 2, 5 and 9 know that there would be a photo shoot coming up, a ‘coincidental’ passing of Jonah getting off of the elevator near Patricia as they headed for the courtroom. Cameras had been banned inside the courtroom, but not in the hallways.
Patricia realized that she was alone in the hallway. Where were the cameras?
She went to the window and looked down onto Adams Street, expecting to see organized chaos: police barricades holding back onlookers, protesters and camera crews. Instead, the first thing she noticed was the burning police cruiser. She was too far up and behind double-plated glass but she could still imagine the noise. Three officers were in a group, firing their weapons into a slow-moving crowd of people.
“Is there a riot over this case?” she asked, and a smile creased her lips. Now there would be even more coverage, and she would be at the center of the hurricane but high up here and away from the damage. Interview scenarios swam through her head: she’d be featured again on Nancy Grace, her blurbs cut over the action on every major network.
She realized Brooklyn wasn’t big enough for her anymore. Perhaps Chicago or Los Angeles? Dallas might be nice, although she’d never actually been to Texas.
Patricia was so far into future thoughts that at first her mind didn’t register the sound of the elevator landing at her floor.
She kept an eye on the action below, making mental notes about it for future use in blurbs. Later, if she had time, she’d try out a few different ‘reaction’ faces: shocked, disappointed, comforting, and empathetic. For now she was content to wait for the story to catch up to her.
“Miss?”
The voice, deep and full of authority, startled her. She pitched and slammed her hand hard on the glass, a shooting pain traveling up her arm.
She turned just as Jonah Grandon snickered. Patricia almost blurted for him to shut up, but thought better of it. You never knew when there was a camera pointing at you or someone secretly recording your conversations. She supposed it was the curse of being important, but she still hated the lack of privacy sometimes.
Three corrections officers, men she’d dealt with before – she guessed – were surrounding the prisoner. The first, obviously the captain of the bunch, looked grim as he stepped forward. “Miss, we need to get you somewhere safe.”
“What’s going on down there?” she asked and smiled. She imagined segueing from this career into a job as a news reporter, definitely as a top anchor in this market. She could actually see herself accepting an Emmy Award and easily grab a Peabody Award to boot. The sky was the limit today.
“The Devil walks among us, my sheep,” Jonah said and laughed.
“Shut up,” one of the other guards sa
id. “There’s something weird going on in the city. It came over the police band just as we got here. Some kind of riot. We just don’t know, to be honest. I’m Officer Martin, and I think it prudent that we find you some shelter until we can figure out exactly what’s going on.”
“I’ll protect the little frog,” Jonah said quietly.
Officer Martin turned on him again and put a finger in Jonah’s face. “Last time I hear a peep out of you, got it?”
Jonah stared intently and grinned. Just as Officer Martin turned Jonah whispered “peep” and laughed.
Dying Days Ultimate Box Set 1 Page 53
