Dead Friends Series (Book 2): Dead Friends Running

by Carlisle, Natalie

  “Tony—” I started to say, incredulous.

  “Let’s be real guys, we all know I won’t be able to keep up with you very long.” He glanced down, wincing. “We all know this isn’t just a flesh wound.”

  “No,” Lewis countered. “But I do have an idea. I don’t like it, but whatever.”

  He suddenly yanked the wheel to the left, slamming the brakes. I ricocheted to my side, and back. “Get out.”

  “What?” Tony groaned.

  “Get out, quick. Take the guns. Trust me.”

  “But—” The sirens were getting closer.

  “Damn it, guys,” He shouted. “Get the hell out. Hide in the woods. I’ve got this.”

  Not wasting a beat, the three of us threw open our doors, but it was too late. The Trooper came whizzing around the corner.

  Busted.

  30

  When Tony stood up, he collapsed, falling out of the vehicle and blacking out onto the pavement.

  “Tony,” I screamed, jumping out of the car, rounding my open door. Missy and Lewis followed suit, just as I heard the Trooper’s brakes squealing, bringing the car to a stop.

  Dropping to my knees, I didn’t care about whatever happened to us next. I just hollered for the cop as he hurried out of the car.

  Tony’s head was turned toward me, his body at an awkward bend, his face contorted in pain, but when my knees hit the pavement, he opened his eyes and winked at me.

  Winked.

  I had a sudden urge to punch him in the face.

  It was an act. Tony was acting.

  My heart dropped to my stomach.

  “Stay where you are,” the Trooper yelled to Missy and Lewis as they started to round the bumpers. “Hands in the air.” They were oblivious to Tony’s charade. Their panic was real. He jogged up to us, one hand holding the holster on his belt, the other his radio on his shoulder. “Ma’am what happened? Can you tell me what happened? Is he conscious?”

  “I-I don’t…I-I” I had no idea what to say. Words left me.

  The cop immediately crouched down, checking Tony’s pulse on his neck. Tony didn’t move. I watched the cop give him a once over as he mentally counted the beats.

  His gaze landed on his side, where the blood stain and bullet graze were. Instantly his demeanor changed, and he was calling for back up.

  The three of us were escorted out of the way. A new trooper had us sitting on the side of the road as he searched the Jeep. The original Trooper and the paramedics were lifting Tony onto a stretcher. Tony was awake now, answering questions.

  I only got bits and pieces of what he was telling him. He sounded so bad; I couldn’t tell anymore if he was acting.

  “It was my own gun.”

  “I tripped.”

  “Something was chasing us.”

  “Not them. I wasn’t with them. They found me.”

  “Hunting with a friend. And he’s still out there. I don’t know where he is, we got separated when we ran. He might be lost.”

  “Jason. Jason Ollie.”

  Suddenly the Trooper that was peering into the Jeep, stood up, bumping his hat off his head as he shimmied out of the doorway. “Did you say Jason Ollie?” He straightened the hat back out onto his short, dark crop. He had these intense gray eyes. “That’s the kid that called Wesson at the hospital.”

  The original Trooper turned his attention back to Tony, a momentary lapse of resolve showed in his expression. “What was chasing you?” He sounded freaked out.

  “Sanders,” the other Trooper warned as if to tell him to pull it together.

  Trooper Sanders regained the hard set to his jaw, stepping back. “Never mind, don’t you worry. We will find your friend.”

  The paramedics nodded to each other then started to wheel Tony up the ramp. “Thank you,” he winced.

  “Take it easy, sir,” he said, “We’ll have the department contact your family and let them know what hospital you will be at.”

  Tony nodded, spared us all a quick glance, before the ambulance doors closed in upon him.

  I watched the ambulance drive away, restless to move. My butt was getting uncomfortable. I wanted to stand, but I didn’t dare. Plus my mind was racing. I wanted so bad to ask them what Jason said to Trooper Wesson—given I was in complete shock to discover he had called him—but I bit my lip. Literally.

  I didn’t trust my mouth.

  And I sure the hell didn’t trust Missy’s.

  Please, please don’t let her say something stupid.

  Once the ambulance was completely out of view, the other Trooper, not Sanders, turned to us.

  “Whose Jeep is this?”

  Lewis was sitting next to Melissa, his long legs stretched out. The furthest thing from relaxed though. “Mine, Sir.”

  “You can call me Sergeant Rowner.”

  Lewis nodded.

  “Can you explain why you have an excessive amount of guns and ammo in your vehicle, sir?”

  “I have a permit for them, sir—I mean, Sergeant Rowner.”

  “I didn’t ask you that.”

  Lewis cleared his throat, “Uh—”

  “Where were you going with all of these guns?”

  No response.

  “Could you explain why you drove off at the sight of Trooper Sanders?”

  “Panic,” he admitted. “I panicked.”

  “Because of these guns?”

  “Because of everything.”

  “What does that mean?”

  When he didn’t respond again, he turned his piercing gaze to Melissa.

  “Young lady. Hi.”

  A wrinkle of confusion appeared on her forehead. “Hi.”

  “What’s your name?”

  She instantly started chipping at her nail polish. “Melissa.”

  “Melissa what?”

  “Frink.”

  “Are you from around here, Miss Frink?”

  She shook her head.

  “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from New Jersey.”

  “Okay, Miss Frink, could you possibly explain how—” Suddenly he stopped, as if something just dawned on him. “Wait, did you say New Jersey?”

  Her fingers paused, that crease in her forehead deepening. “Yes.”

  His intense gaze immediately shifted to me. “And you are?”

  “I’m Dee Forrester,” I replied, my throat raw still from shouting, my voice cracking. Automatically I began fidgeting, understanding why Missy started up with the nails again.

  “Dee,” Trooper Sanders chimed in, stepping up beside Sergeant Rowner. “He was a few inches shorter and had a shaved head and Amherst eyes. “Wasn’t that—”

  “Yes,” Sergeant Rowner answered before Trooper Sanders even finished the question. “Miss Forrester, any chance you own a Toyota Celica with New Jersey plates?”

  I tried to swallow the knot in the back of my throat. “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you have your license on you?” He asked.

  I peered over at the Jeep, nervously. “It’s in the bag in the back seat.”

  He gestured for Trooper Sanders to get it.

  “Small middle pocket,” I added, as he reached the back door.

  “Thank you,” Sergeant Rowner said.

  I think I nodded.

  Trooper Sanders handed Sergeant Rowner my identification about a minute later. His eyes scanned the information thoroughly, and I would admit, I was really starting to worry.

  “I’ll just be a moment,” he said, not to his partner but to us. Grasping my card, he walked away, muttering something into the radio.

  He wasn’t gone long, but he did have to walk to his car. He never shut the door though. He just sank into the front seat and from there, I don’t know what was going on. I guess he was running my name.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d done--at least that they’d know about.

  When Sergeant Rowner rejoined us, he gave Trooper Sanders a short nod.

  “Oh, thank God,” Trooper Sanders sighe
d. “We at least found her, alive.”

  “Found me?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Miss Forrester, when we came across your vehicle about two hours ago on the side of the road, we ran your plates. Did you know there’s a missing person’s alert on you right now?”

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Your parents filed the report a few hours ago.”

  Ohmigod. They didn’t. I left them a damn note.

  “Don’t worry though,” Sergeant Rowner said, handing me my license. I took it diligently. “We made sure to report you have been found and your parents will be notified.”

  “Oh,” is all I said. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact they filed a report in the first place. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised after everything that happened with Spencer.

  In a small, non-irritating way, at least I know they care about me.

  “Miss Forrester, I must ask though, have you been hurt in any way that requires you to seek immediate medical attention?” He was staring at my arm. Yes, I needed a cast probably. But I’d deal. After all, Jason was still out there.

  But knowing he made contact with Trooper Wesson made me less anxious.

  “No, I’m okay. Old injury,” I answered. I don’t know if he bought that.

  “Miss Forrester, I must ask, has this man taken you and Miss Frink against your will or made you do anything against your will?” He shot his attention in Lewis’ direction.

  “You mean Lewis? God no,” I quickly informed them. “He saved my life actually.”

  His expression turned skeptical.

  “I didn’t do anything heroic,” Lewis interjected. “She was just having one of her hypo-sugar episodes.”

  “Hypoglycemic,” Missy corrected.

  He ignored her. “And I am the owner of Lewis’ Diner, all I did was give her a free meal.”

  “He’s being modest. It was much more than that,” I insisted.

  “Well, it seems you were very lucky then. How are your sugar levels now?”

  “I feel fine currently, thank you.”

  “That’s very good news, Miss Forrester.” He paused, deliberating. “So am I correct to assume before today, you and Miss Frink never met Mr. Hedges?”

  “No, never,” I agreed.

  “Then Mr. Hedges, can you explain why if all you did was give her a free meal, she and Mrs. Frink were in your Jeep with you?”

  “They asked me for a ride, so I gave them one.”

  “And again I must ask, why are there so many guns in your vehicle?”

  He cracked his knuckles, restless. “I was hunting earlier in the day.”

  “With a hand gun?” He sounded extremely suspicious.

  “I bring all my guns when I head out in the woods. Like I said, I have a permit for them.”

  “Okay, let’s forget about that for a moment. Let’s just get these stories straight then, shall we? So you were out hunting with the other guy this morning, your friend that was shot, but to not get you in trouble he lied about it?”

  “That is incorrect, Sergeant Rowner. I was hunting with my friend Nathan when I ran into them.

  “Them?” Trooper Sanders quickly inserted, peering around Sergeant Rowner.

  “The girls,” Lewis continued.

  “Oh… I thought you meant…”

  His sergeant nudged him.

  “Never mind.”

  And though we all knew he meant the zombie wannabes, we didn’t bring them up because obviously neither were they. Though I am not sure why I wasn’t stressing about them anyway. All I’ve wanted to do was get a hold of the cops.

  “And where is your friend Nathan now then?”

  “He better be at the animal hospital,” Missy suddenly blurted, then instantly bit her lip.

  Both Troopers looked at her, but it was the sergeant who responded. “Animal hospital?”

  “We found an injured dog,” she informed him. “He promised to take him to the vet. He was really hurt. I hope he’s okay. It was a yellow lab. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Hurt how?” he asked.

  “Looked like an animal bite,” Lewis quickly intervened. “Nothing I ever seen before.”

  That made Trooper Sanders’ face pale. “Are you sure it was an animal?”

  “Sanders, enough,” Sergeant Rowner warned.

  Yea, they definitely knew about the infected. But why weren’t they doing anything about it?

  “So if you were with Nathan this morning, how does she know about the dog? Or did you go hunting with the girls?”

  “Take the girls hunting?” Lewis laughed, though his voice almost cracked. “No way, sir. The girls found the dog all on their own. My friend just happened to offer to bring the dog to the vet, while I drove the girls back to their car.”

  “Then if you were just bringing them back to their car why did you turn around when you saw Sanders?”

  “I told you, I panicked. I thought this would all be very difficult to explain. I told the girls I was taking them back to the diner. They could call someone to come get them instead. But once I realized Trooper Sanders was pulling me over, I stopped driving.”

  “That true, ladies?”

  We must have half-nodded or something, because the Sergeant didn’t press the matter.

  Some static came through on the radio just then, and a female voice followed. “Dispatch to the following units. Twenty-seven, Sixteen, Eleven. Two hikers found. Southwest of Mountain. Minor medical attention required. Report of Missing dog. Male. Labrador. Yellow. All units Copy.”

  Sergeant Rowner quickly hit the side button on the radio. “Sixteen to Dispatch, copy. Check all local vet hospitals. Miss Frink and Mr. Hedges claim a dog of that description was brought in due to injury.”

  “Dispatch to sixteen. Copy.”

  “Dispatch to Twenty-seven and Eleven, please copy.”

  Trooper Sanders hit his radio next. “Twenty-seven to Dispatch, copy.” Then he glanced at Sergeant Rowner. “You don’t think they are…”

  “Stop.” Sergeant Rowner barely acknowledged it. “Ladies,” he said, turning his full attention to us again, though this time his voice was less reserved. “I must ask one more time, are you sure you are both okay and haven’t been harmed or mishandled in any way by anyone? The state of your appearance concerns me.”

  I peered down at myself. At all the stains, all the scrapes and all the bruises.

  I almost laughed.

  Almost.

  I was definitely a sight for sure.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Missy accessing herself too.

  “We’re okay,” I replied.

  “Perhaps an additional medical evaluation should be conducted.”

  I thought of being tested and quarantined again.

  “No. No we’re okay.”

  Static sounded through the radio again. “Dispatch to Eleven. Please copy.”

  A flicker of concern flashed across his face. “I strongly recommend you should.”

  “It’s not necessary,” I replied.

  “So you are denying medical assistance?”

  “Yes.”

  Static again. “Dispatch to Eleven. Please copy.”

  A muscle popped in his jaw, and I could see the concern growing more adamant on his face. “Can you explain what happened to you then? And have you been in these woods in the past twenty-four hours?”

  “I-I, uh…” Shit. What did I say?

  Static. “Dispatch to the following units Twenty-Seven, sixteen and eleven. Report of missing dog cancelled. Yellow lab found and under veterinarian care. Please copy.”

  “Copy,” Sergeant Rowner and Trooper Sanders replied almost simultaneously.

  I could see the immediate relief on Missy’s face. Anubis had been found, he was being treated which meant the two hikers were Zac and Margueax.

  I almost sighed in relief too. I no longer had to waste time searching for them or their dog. I could just focus on finding m
y boyfriend.

  “Miss Forrester, we are waiting?”

  That is, if these cops ever let us go.

  “I- I, uh,” I began again, to be instantly interrupted by the radio once more.

  The female voice was beginning to change monotones. “Dispatch to Eleven. Will you please copy?”

  Trooper Sanders fidgeted, his hands anxiously drumming on his belt. “Maybe I should go check on Trooper Harris. It’s not like him—” Suddenly he drew his gun, aiming it at our heads. “What was that?”

  I flinched, ducking.

  I expected Sergeant Rowner to flip out on him, but even he was drawing his gun, motioning Trooper Sanders to stay put.

  That’s when I heard it.

  Branches snapping and cracking.

  Getting louder, closer.

  Hurried footsteps, running this way.

  On reflex, I turned my head, peering over my shoulder, afraid to see what was coming up behind us.

  I didn’t see anything though.

  At least not from the angle I was looking.

  “Get up,” The sergeant demanded in a rushed whisper as he started to walk cautiously around Lewis. “Get behind Trooper Sanders. Quickly and quietly.”

  We didn’t hesitate. Pushing off the ground, the three of us followed his instructions, hurrying behind his partner.

  By the time I reached Trooper Sanders and faced the woods again, I finally caught a glimpse of someone coming, weaving left and right around the trees. A man.

  Trooper Sanders nudged me backward with his free hand, his gun remaining steady in his right grip. “Stay behind me. Keep back,” he insisted.

  Missy grabbed my bicep and pulled me away, closer to the Jeep. I broke her grasp though, to move to the left so I could still peer around his back and see.

  He was oblivious to me watching—or at least it seemed that way.

  “Sergeant Rowner, do you think it’s—”

  Just then the person picked his head up, glancing in our direction, and upon immediately noticing us, he started shouting.

  Trooper Sanders shut up, and stiffened his stance, raising his gun directly out in front of him. Sergeant Rowner, who was cautiously moving forward, paused.

  “Serg!” the person yelled, and kept yelling. “Serg!”

  Now that he was directly in the clearing, I could make him out. I could visibly see his face, and his uniform. Only took a second for me to put two and two together. He must have been the other Trooper.