The Good, The Dead & The Lawless (Book 2): The Hell That Follows

by Archer, Angelique

  Brett scowled. “I’ve been surviving fine on runs before I got on this train. I’m ready.”

  Noticing Kennedy was watching them, Colin met her gaze and glanced pointedly at Brett.

  “Look. You’ve been great with the kids, and you’re one of the few people on here that can be on both Bravo and Charlie teams.”

  “And Alpha,” Brett emphasized determinedly.

  Colin shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Already, the team had made it clear that going so close to D.C. would be their most dangerous mission yet. They should’ve finished training others to take over for Team Bravo so that the current Bravo crew could graduate up to Alpha.

  “Have you talked to your sister about this?” Colin inquired to be polite, but he already knew the answer.

  His lips drawn in a tight line, Brett went back to tearing apart the Styrofoam cup. “I don’t need to.”

  Giving a low whistle of disapproval, Colin replied, “I think you do. She’s your sister. She’d be devastated if you went on a supply run without her.”

  Brett stood up. “Are you with her on this, too? Choosing Houston over us?”

  “That’s not what she’s trying to do, okay?” Colin sighed. He knew Haven well enough to know that abandoning them wasn’t part of her plan.

  “Yeah, then what is it she’s doing exactly?” he retorted angrily.

  Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. “She loves you more than anything. She loves him, too. It’s... complicated.”

  Sulking, Brett pulled a beanie from his cargo pants pocket and pulled it over his curly hair. “I don’t need to run this by her. She didn’t ask for my approval to leave the train. She decided on her own.”

  Colin stood up, as well. “Don’t do this, brother.” He pulled him close, directing him back toward the cabins. “I don’t think you should come with us, but you’re big enough to make your own choices. If you’re coming, at least go tell your sister goodbye. You never know what can happen.”

  Brett held up his hands and moved away from him. “Not happening.” He gave Colin a mock salute, then joined Kennedy and the others.

  For whatever reason, Colin’s insides twisted into knots. As he followed everyone outside, he slowly came to the realization that something about this run felt different from the rest.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The train station was little more than a platform with awnings on both sides, and it made Kennedy uncomfortable that their train was so visible. A stop like this was a first for them, a far cry from the usual stops along the tracks in forested areas near small towns.

  They cautiously stepped onto the platform and looked around, weapons raised. The city was in shambles. Downed helicopters and tanks littered the streets, and many of the buildings had been blown to pieces. A river was behind the station, and Kennedy was grateful for it, serving as a natural barrier on one side unless zombies magically learned how to swim.

  There were a few rotters shambling toward them in the parking lot. Nothing like the numbers she was expecting to see when they arrived. Perhaps the city wouldn’t be as populated by undead as they’d feared; they were, after all, still over fifty miles outside of D.C.

  She heard growling very close to them and swiveled around, trying to pinpoint the location of the rotter.

  Johnny B. whistled at her and pointed beneath them. A zombie had been cut in half across the tracks when the train came in. Its torso was now squished between the train wheels and the rails.

  Kennedy lowered her gun and adjusted the pack on her back. Like her, they all wore large backpacks, empty except for extra ammunition and the water canteens, beef jerky, and granola bars reserved for supply run sustenance.

  The plan was to split into two groups and cover as much ground as possible, filling their packs with what they could carry and then finding a vehicle to bring back the rest. In case they encountered any difficulties and couldn’t get a car, they’d still have their backpacks.

  The team went down the steps and into the parking lot, making quick work of the zombies in it before coming to the place in the road where they’d separate.

  “Remember,” Kennedy whispered, “we rendezvous at the train at sixteen hundred.” She pulled out the map from her pocket, the one Jeremy had marked. “Everyone know where they’re going?” When they answered in the affirmative, she touched her fingers to her cap. “Godspeed,” she told them before gesturing to Johnny B. and Colin to follow her.

  Grady, Jackson, and Brett jogged along Lafayette Boulevard before crossing over onto Cobblestone Way.

  Grady kept turning around and making sure Jackson was behind Brett. He felt anxious having the kid on their team, bemoaning the fact that Brett’s first supply run would be their most dangerous one yet, so close to a major city.

  “Hey, guys,” Brett called out quietly. “Check it out.”

  Grady stopped jogging and followed Brett’s finger. “What?” he replied, not seeing anything of interest.

  “That high-rise.”

  Jackson and Grady exchanged looks then shrugged. “What about it?”

  “It’s an apartment complex. Think about all the stuff we’d find there… food, medicine…”

  Jackson frowned. “We don’t know what we’ll find, that’s the problem.”

  Brett nodded. “Sure, but we can take it slow, just clear one apartment at a time. It’s less ground to cover if we take it floor by floor, way less square footage than a shopping mall.”

  Jackson’s features hardened as he gazed at the apartment complex. “We’re deviating from the plan.”

  “Yeah, but in a smart way,” Brett pushed. “Think about it. It won’t be picked through like a supermarket or mall.”

  “We don’t know what we’ll find there. It’s a bad idea,” Jackson grumbled.

  “I don’t know,” Grady said, scratching his jaw. “Kid’s got a point.”

  Brett grinned. “See?” He looked at Jackson for approval.

  “How about this…” Grady offered. “We go do a little recon, and if it looks bad, we get out.”

  Jackson sighed and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t like it, but whatever. Let’s just make a decision.”

  Grady reached for the walkie-talkie. “I’ll tell Kennedy, that way they know where we are.” He thumbed the walkie-talkie on and pressed the button. “We’re changing plans a little. Going to hit up the…” He paused trying to see the name of the complex. “…Westwinds apartment complex. Off Cobblestone Way. Over.”

  There was a long pause. “Roger that. Be safe. Over.”

  “Let’s get moving. We’ve got company,” Jackson told Grady. There were only a couple of zombies headed toward them, but they were walking slowly enough that a light jog would easily keep them a safe distance apart.

  The apartment complex was ten stories tall, painted red and beige with balconies jutting out from the second floor all the way to the top. Overgrown branches from a rooftop garden poked over the edge.

  They trod up to it cautiously.

  “I don’t like this,” Jackson remarked dubiously. “It’s too quiet.”

  “Maybe they headed to D.C. or something,” Brett suggested.

  Grady opened the gate to a large pool at the side of the apartment complex.

  What was once surely aquamarine-blue pool water was now a filthy mixture of black sludge and green mold floating in clumps along the surface.

  In the deep end of the pool, something rippled and bubbled in the water. Brett went to the edge of the pool to investigate, his curiosity getting the best of him.

  Suddenly, a hand struck out and grabbed his ankle. Losing his footing, Brett tumbled into the water, disappearing under its dark surface and sending the blobs of black and green sloshing over the concrete in small waves.

  “Fuck!” Grady ran to the edge and dropped down, trying to see Brett. He and Jackson shouted his name and rushed back and forth trying to find him.

  Brett’s head burst through the water, and he gasped for air, desperately
flailing his arms to try to get to them.

  “They’re in the water!” he screamed before disappearing beneath the murky water once more.

  Grady grabbed the pool skimmer and scraped the sludge off the top. “Shit, there’s a bunch of them down there!”

  Several zombies stood at the bottom of the pool, seemingly fastened in place, but they reached for Brett in slow motion, their movements mired in the water.

  Grady pulled off his jacket and set his rifle down. “I’m going in.”

  Just before he jumped into the pool, hands appeared on the concrete rim. When Jackson and Grady saw that they weren’t fetid and decomposed, they rushed forward and grabbed the hands, pulling Brett out rapidly and dragging him far from the water.

  They knelt beside him, and Grady put his hand on Brett’s back as he sputtered and coughed. His face was white with fear, his body completely soaked. Jackson glanced at his clothes, searching for tears in the fabric.

  “You alright there?” Grady asked.

  Brett stared back at the water, seeing fingertips straining and flexing above the surface. He finally nodded.

  “Son, I hate to ask you this, but were you bit?” Grady’s expression was somber.

  Holding his hands out in front of him, then checking his legs, Brett shakily replied, “No. No, I don’t think so.”

  Jackson’s eyes met Grady’s.

  Something slammed against the fence surrounding the pool. They looked up to see a small bunch of zombies pressed against the metal barrier, their white eyes unblinking as they staggered along the outside of the fence toward them.

  “Alright, let’s get you to your feet,” Grady said, helping Brett up. “We can check you once we’re inside.”

  Jackson ran ahead of them and began looking for a way inside. The pool area connected to the lobby, but the only way to open the door was with a key fob.

  Hoping the fence would keep the zombies near the pool out, Jackson slammed the butt of his rifle into the glass.

  The tempered glass gave way after the second strike, and Jackson then stroked the rifle down to remove a large enough chunk for them to enter the complex.

  Even with the power out, there was plenty of sunlight pouring in through the windows and glass doors. The lobby consisted of a reception area with a large wood desk and several chairs behind it, some black leather couches and recliners with a modern-looking coffee table. A vase of deteriorating flowers sat in the center of the table along with some cups half-filled with unfinished moldy beverages.

  Brett pointed to two vending machines. Jackson stood in the center of the lobby, weapon raised as he watched for zombies, while Grady and Brett went to the machines and smashed them open. They waited a minute to see if anything rushed out at them, but the lobby remained silent. They quickly filled Brett’s pack with candy bars and chips, leaving the sodas since they needed water more, and the cans would likely explode when opened after being jostled around in a backpack all day.

  “Let’s take one for the road though,” Grady suggested, and he handed them each a soda.

  “We’re going to need that car real soon,” Jackson told them, popping the lid on the can and taking a long swig of his Mountain Dew.

  “Maybe we can find some suitcases or something, then drag everything to one of the resident’s cars.” Brett pulled the straps over his shoulders after crunching his Sprite can into a ball.

  “Time to move,” Jackson announced. They joined him and noticed that the zombies from the fence had managed to worm their way inside the complex.

  The trio ran to the other side of the lobby until they found a door with a sign that read “STAIRS.”

  Grady went through first, but immediately opened fire on two zombies that were stumbling up the stairs from the parking garage.

  Brett saw a volley of muzzle fire flash in front of him. Startled, he stepped back into Jackson.

  Shoving him forward hastily, Jackson growled, “Keep going! They’re right behind us!”

  Once they were in the stairwell, Grady went up another flight of stairs to make sure no one would approach them from above. Brett continued watching the lower flights, while Jackson tried to lock the door.

  “Lock won’t work.” He peered through the tiny square window on the door. A hideous face greeted him on the other side.

  “Can you jam it with something?” Grady asked.

  “Negative. Not willing to give up my rifle to keep those fuckers out. We’ll just have to hope they don’t know how to use the push bar.”

  Brett’s lips twisted skeptically. “All they’d have to do is push it.”

  “Then we’d better get going,” Jackson suggested.

  “How are we going to get out?” Brett stared with concern at the zombies gathering in front of the window. “More are going to come.”

  “There has to be another stairwell. We’ll use that one.”

  Not satisfied with that answer, Brett pressed further, “What if there’s not? What if it’s blocked with zombies?”

  Jackson smacked the door and cursed before joining Grady and Brett. “We can let one in at a time and pick ‘em off that way. Stop worrying, and start moving.”

  They got to the second-floor door and were ready to pull it open, but as soon as they did, a face and hands appeared at the little window. It stared at them and tried to bite the glass, its tongue lolling up and down, leaving a streak of black goo in its wake.

  “Is there just one?” Grady questioned.

  Leaning over, Jackson tried to see past the zombie. “I don’t know. Can’t really see around this—wait. Yeah, there are others right behind it.”

  “Shit. The gunfire must have attracted them over.” Grady looked up at the winding stairwell. “Let’s keep going and hope we find a door that isn’t blocked.”

  They climbed seven more flights of stairs, each one with the same dilemma as the second floor. Grady firing his gun had alerted any zombies wandering in the hallways to their presence and drew them all to the stairwell. Brett was starting to worry they’d have to leave the same way they came in when he heard Grady breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Ninth floor is clear. Almost made it to the top—talk about good luck.”

  They opened the door and scanned both directions for any unwanted company. There were two giant windows at each end of the hallway, and they brightly lit what would have otherwise been a terrifying venture fumbling through the darkness with only a couple of flashlights. As they moved away from the stairs, they observed two zombies hunched over, busily munching on something that was now a pile of gooey flesh and bones.

  Grady and Jackson silently snuck forward and stabbed each one in the head. They waved to Brett, and he jogged over to them.

  “This’ll probably be the only floor we get to, so let’s make it count.” Grady pointed to the furthest apartment on the floor, and once they arrived at the door, he knocked on it. While no noise came from anything within that particular unit, within seconds, pounding fists accompanied by raspy moans echoed down the hall.

  “Looks like we’re not as alone as we thought,” Jackson commented morosely.

  Brett stood off to the side while Grady began prying open the door with a crowbar. While he waited, he went to the large window at the end of the hall and looked out to the city. Had he been here before, he would have enjoyed living in a place like this, especially one with such a fantastic view from the top. His gaze roamed down to the pool, and he shivered, recounting his nightmarish swim with the undead. But movement at the base of the complex caught his eye, and he gasped.

  “Ummm, guys?”

  Grady grunted in frustration. “In a minute, kid. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Guys,” Brett repeated. “You need to see this.”

  Stopping what he was doing, Grady joined him at the window. Jackson followed him, and they both cursed.

  A steady stream of zombies were entering the apartment complex from the door they’d broken to get into the lobby. A handful clums
ily stumbled into the pool, knocked in by their undead brethren.

  “Chances are they won’t figure out how to open the doors to the stairwell and get up here,” Grady said, then hurriedly returned to the apartment. He smiled when he got the door open, and they cautiously stepped over the threshold into the unit.

  The place was neat and tidy, minimally decorated with plush carpeting. Jackson’s nostrils flared. There was an unpleasant odor, but it wasn’t the kind that came from putrid, rotting flesh. In the kitchen, dirty dishes with months-old crusted food were piled up in the sink.

  “Let’s clear the rooms. Brett, you’re with me.” Grady signaled for him to stay close, while Jackson took the first bedroom immediately to their left.

  A minute later, they met back in the living room.

  “All clear,” Grady declared. He turned to Brett. “Now before you go anywhere else, we need to check you for bites. Nothing against you, son. We just can’t bring you back to the train infected.”

  Brett peeled off his wet clothes until he was down to his boxers. Holding his arms out and rotating, he looked up at them. “See? No bites.”

  Once he was satisfied Brett wasn’t infected, Jackson left Grady and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

  “Found some stuff,” Jackson called out shortly after and came back into the living room. He held up several pill bottles and a stack of clean clothes. “Painkillers and antibiotics. They’re expired, but better than nothing. Vetta will want them.” Throwing the clothes to Brett, he added, “Take these. You’re gonna freeze to death if you stay in those wet clothes.”

  The outfit was loose on Brett, but he used his belt to tighten the pants around his waist.

  “Good find.” Grady started sorting through the cupboards in the kitchen and produced a bag of marshmallows. “Anybody want one?”

  Jackson took the bag from him and pulled it open, tossing a few of the spongy white treats into his mouth. He handed the bag to Brett.

  “This was definitely a dude’s place,” Brett commented around a mouthful of marshmallows as he opened the freezer. A horrible stench greeted him, and he quickly slammed the door shut. “Most of the food here is frozen pizza rolls and TV dinners.”