As The World Dies Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Frater, Rhiannon

  The trucks were about ten feet from the gate when Juan gave the signal. The crane, which had been stationed overhead early that morning, dropped a small storage unit onto the bandits’ vehicles. Nerit smiled with satisfaction as it crashed down, clipping the front end of the blue truck and sending the hood flying. The big black truck jackknifed across the road.

  All went silent below.

  Juan clutched his binoculars tight. “We’re winning, right, Nerit?

  “We’re not planning to win.”

  Juan frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to make them fear us,” Nerit answered with a cold smile. “And that is far more effective.”

  4.

  One

  “It’s the Boyds,” Curtis said to Nerit and Juan. He was watching the video feed from the cameras Calhoun had rigged up on the walls. Four small black-and-white TVs were serving as monitors. “Drug-smuggling, raping, murdering assholes. The whole family has been the bane of this county for more than a century. Half of them are in jail. Or at least they were.”

  The three of them were hidden by a false front Juan had built on top of city hall that was dubbed “the eagle’s nest.” They could see quite well, but it was hard to see them from below. Nerit watched the street through the scope of her sniper rifle.

  “I bet they went and busted Martin out,” Curtis went on. “He was up for murdering his ex-girlfriend and her husband. He didn’t take to her dumping him and marrying someone else while he was in jail.”

  Juan took a deep breath. “Nerit, I don’t know if I can—”

  “You’re a strong man, Juan De La Torre. You just have never faced this sort of situation before. I have faced similar situations, so I will guide you. They will not respond to an old woman with an Israeli accent, but they will listen to a strong male voice with a good West Texas accent.” She smiled, trying to encourage him.

  Juan rubbed his face. “Okay, you have a point.”

  “What are they doing?” Travis asked as he joined them, breathless from running. Katie was right behind him.

  “Sitting there.” Nerit continued to watch, her mind flipping through all the scenarios and outcomes that could occur. “They came this far. They will not want to leave empty-handed. Juan, say what I say.” She spoke swiftly, never letting her gaze leave the view below. So far, they had the situation under control. She hoped they could maintain the upper hand, but she was not about to underestimate her enemy.

  Juan pressed down on the button Calhoun had told him would make the microphone work. “Attention, trespassers. You are to leave immediately.”

  On the small monitors set up in the eagle’s nest, Curtis watched a man in the black truck flip off the fort. “Nice answer. I hate these guys.”

  Nerit gave Juan his next speech. He listened, then spoke into the mic. “We know of your acts of violence against others and will not tolerate your presence. You must leave immediately.” He hesitated, then ad-libbed, “Because your shit doesn’t fly around here.”

  Katie chuckled and Nerit nodded. She appreciated his improvisation. It made him sound more in control.

  Curtis frowned as the men inside the trucks talked to one another. A few flipped off the fort again.

  Calhoun slid into the now cramped eagle’s nest and fiddled with the equipment he had set up. “If I had more time, I could have gotten the sound perfect. The equipment I had to work with was ridiculous. Do you realize how hard it was to—?”

  Nerit put her hand over his mouth.

  Faintly, the microphones hidden along the wall picked up the bandits’ voices shouting out insults.

  Finally, a large bald man stepped out of the black truck. Clad in jeans and a black shirt, he didn’t look quite as ratty as the other men they had seen. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted, “We’re here for food and supplies! You attacked us.”

  “Tell him you want to speak to their leader,” Nerit said to Juan. The man’s voice sounded hesitant and not like a man in control.

  “That’s bullshit,” Juan replied. “I want to talk to your leader.”

  “I am the leader,” the bald man answered.

  “Katarina,” Nerit said softly into her mouthpiece.

  The man went down, screaming, gripping his shattered knee.

  Juan blinked.

  “He’s not the leader,” Nerit explained.

  “Oh.” Juan hesitated, pushed the button, and then said, “I said your leader, not his girlfriend.”

  Curtis laughed.

  Calhoun snorted and said, “Yeah, damn aliens. They have ugly-ass women.”

  After a few minutes, the doors opened on the opposite side of the truck and a few men got out. The bandits from the smaller blue truck also stepped out onto the street. All were armed. The last to appear was a tall, almost handsome man clad in jeans and a Dallas Cowboys jersey. He was dragging a girl with him, holding a gun firmly pressed to her temple. The girl looked to be around sixteen. Her face was battered and swollen, and her arms and legs were covered in bruises and cuts.

  “Enough bullshit. We want guns, ammo, and enough food to get us through the winter, or I’m going to kill this little girl!” the man shouted.

  “That’s Martin Boyd, goddammit. They busted him out of prison. He’ll do it. He’ll kill her,” Curtis said.

  “No, he won’t,” Nerit answered, then said into her mouthpiece. “Katarina.”

  “High or low,” Katarina’s voice said, small and tinny.

  “Low,” Nerit said regretfully after a pause. “It will be merciful. We can’t save her anyway.”

  On the monitor, Martin Boyd was jerking the girl about by her hair, making a good show. Suddenly her head jerked back and blood splattered his face. Startled, Martin froze for a moment, staring at the now very dead young woman while her blood dripped from his startled features. Then, with a wordless exclamation, he dropped her and stepped back. The men around him immediately took cover, but Martin remained in the open.

  Katie covered her face with her hands and turned away.

  Curtis jerked his head toward Nerit. “What the fuck?”

  “It’s a better fate than the one they would have dished out,” Travis said in an agonized voice.

  “We don’t kill innocent people,” Juan protested, then hesitated, before adding, “do we?”

  Martin called out, “Oh, so you’ll kill someone who doesn’t mean shit to you, huh? Then what about one of your own?”

  Nerit arched her eyebrow at this unexpected announcement, then realized what was about to happen.

  Travis later thought he shouldn’t have been surprised when a large burly man dragged Shane out of the back of the camper. He should have known that the bastard was too mean to die at the hands of the zombies. He wondered if Shane had sought out the bandits, intending to join them. Obviously things hadn’t worked out that way. The once-arrogant asshole was wearing a ragged dress. Makeup had been smeared all over his face. He was gagged and his hands were tied with rope. It bothered Travis to no end to see tear marks streaking Shane’s face. It was too terrible to bear seeing him treated this way even if he was a bastard.

  Beside him, Katie put her head down and whispered, “Oh, God.”

  “I got one of your boys right here! He’s a pretty thing, don’t you think?” Martin grinned and patted Shane’s cheek.

  Jerking his head away, Shane strained against his captor’s hold.

  “What did they do to him? What the fuck? That ain’t right!” Curtis was horrified.

  “Katarina,” Nerit said into her headpiece, “take care of it.”

  Shane struggled to get away, screaming behind his gag. The big guy cuffed him and Shane staggered. He fell to his knees. As he straightened up, his head snapped back as Katarina put him down.

  Running his hand over his hair, Travis studied the monitors with the rest of the group. Martin Boyd was gazing up at the fort with a stunned expression on his face.

  “This is what you need to say now,” Ne
rit said to Juan. “Tell him that we have much more to lose than he does, that we have no problem fighting to the death. That we will sacrifice our own to protect the fort. That we have no problem with killing him or his people. Tell him that we cannot be intimidated. Tell him that we have contingencies on contingencies. Tell him that right now, my sniper can blow his fucking head off without blinking and that right now she’s not aiming at his head, but his dick.”

  Juan laughed. “I’m gonna love saying that.” And he did, adding his own flair.

  On the black-and-white monitors, Travis watched Martin take a step back, his bravado gone. Beneath all the grime, the arrogance, and the wild eyes was a man strung out on drugs and booze and living at the edge of the abyss. For once, he was not in control and he shifted uneasily on his feet.

  “Now, let’s put the cherry on top,” Nerit said. “Signal Jason.”

  On top of city hall, a camouflage sheet was thrown off, revealing the huge slingshot. The teenagers and Roger quickly loaded it with a homemade Molotov cocktail. The kids had been practicing for weeks, so when their first shot hit the truck pinned by the storage container and it burst into flames, Travis wasn’t really surprised.

  The bandits panicked. Through the smoke, they could be seen scrambling into their trucks.

  It was then that the minibus flew down Main Street with zombies flowing behind it like a river. Ed was leading the zombie horde like the pied piper. The smoke from the burning truck concealed the minibus and the zombies from the bandits until it was too late.

  The minibus turned in through the quickly opening gate. Behind it, the zombies, encountering the living bandits, fell on them with gusto. They ripped at Shane’s body, the guy Katarina had shot in the knee, and the body of the dead girl. They lay siege to the remaining truck, beating on it, desperate to feast on those within. The gates closed quickly and quietly behind the minibus. Not one zombie slipped in with it. They were too intent on the bandits.

  When the black truck sped away, the fresher, stronger zombies raced behind it.

  Left in the street outside the fort’s main gate was one burning truck, a few staggering zombies, and the dead.

  Silence filled the eagle’s nest. They had won. But to do that, they had gone to a place that was not quite pleasant. No one seemed to be able to look at Nerit. She understood their discomfort and did not take it personally.

  Finally she stood and shouldered her sniper rifle.

  “That’ll teach them to mess with the Amazons,” Calhoun said approvingly.

  “They’re afraid now.” Nerit looked at Katie and Travis, then at Juan and Curtis. Calhoun jigged away to the music in his head as Curtis sat in sad silence, his hands over his face, weeping. Katie rested her hand on Travis’s shoulder and he kissed her forehead soothingly.

  She almost envied Calhoun’s joy. She only felt cold inside, remote, and strong.

  Katie raised her eyes to regard Nerit with respect. “We did the right thing.”

  Nerit shrugged, then said, “I need a smoke,” and walked away.

  She could hear people cheering throughout the fort as she made her way to a quiet corner where she often sat to enjoy a nice leisurely smoke. The cigarette was lit and dangling from her fingers when Katarina sat down across from her a few minutes later. In silence, Nerit offered her a cigarette. The younger woman took it. Katarina lit up and took a drag.

  They looked at each other and said nothing, but something powerful was exchanged in their gaze. They would always be the ones to do what was right, no matter how hard that was.

  After two cigarettes, Katarina finally spoke. “I should have shot his dick off.”

  Both women laughed.

  5.

  Aftermath

  Bill was weary, bone weary. Every muscle in his back was cramping. If it was possible, even his eyes were cramped. Rubbing his grainy eyes, he sat on top of city hall. These days, most people hung out on the hotel’s roof, with its gazebo, pool, and nice patio furniture. Personally, he still preferred city hall, where he now sat in a plastic chair, staring out over the fort.

  He could hear sounds of the party in full swing up on the top of the hotel. The music and laughter were loud. People were ecstatic at their victory. He wished he was.

  Popping open another beer, he took a swig. Nearby, Katarina was on patrol. She was so silent, he barely noticed her. Well, that wasn’t true—when they were not working, he definitely noticed her. She was pretty in a sort of rough way. Her face was lean, her cheek bones high. Her eyes were very keen and had fine lines around them. What was truly beautiful about her was her long, thick red hair that she always kept braided. He had considered asking her out, but because he wasn’t sure what that meant in this dead world, he just gave up.

  Bill sighed.

  Right now, he hated his job.

  A lot of people had thought it was all over when the bandits hightailed it out of town. While they celebrated, Bill, Curtis, and a small group of armed guards had gone out through the loading dock door and grabbed one of the surviving bandits. It had been easy to grab him since he had been banging on the door, crying hysterically. The two survivors from the vehicle that had chased Travis’s team tried to shoot their way out of town. Out of ammo and his partner being eaten by the zombies, the last man standing had run back to the fort.

  It had been Clyde Pipkin. Bill knew him. At twenty-two, Clyde was the youngest of a family of crooks that hung out with the Boyds. The Pipkin Auto Repair Shop was nefarious for underhanded dealings and for scamming unlucky travelers who broke down in the county. Though the Boyds were the main crime family in a three-county spread, the Pipkins were tied to the Boyds by marriage and association.

  Clyde smelled—of sweat, dirt, and alcohol. His red-rimmed eyes and haggard expression spoke of hard-core drug use. He was unshaven and pale. His pupils were dilated and his nose raw.

  He cried for nearly an hour, all through his capture, through being tied to a chair and left to come down from his most recent high.

  Once he was calm, his story came out in angry, then desperate answers to their questions.

  When the zombie plague hit, the Boyds rounded up their buddies and went on a crime spree. The first few days were full of looting, raping, revenge murders, and zombie hunting. The Boyds took full advantage of the situation. Clyde wept again when he said his mama and girlfriend had been eaten, but admitted that the gang had not attempted to protect their womenfolk, just gathered up all male children and headed off in a caravan of death.

  They picked up women survivors along the way, used them until they were lost to the zombies or died. Sometimes they played games with the women, dangling them off a rooftop over crazed zombies. Sometimes the women were bitten and they tied them down until they died. Clyde swore up and down that he had nothing to do with it, but Bill had seen all the classic symptoms of a man who was lying.

  The bandits lived in a blur of violence, drugs, and alcohol.

  The new, violent, deadly world was to their liking at first. They used the fort’s own contact with survivors to figure out where the survivors were located, then swoop in if there was any indication of women or food. Through his tears, Clyde described the ruse that had often worked: The men would hold a woman or young girl at gunpoint and threaten to kill her if the bandits were not given supplies. It got the survivors to open up their safe havens.

  Despite their bloodthirsty nature, the bandits had slowly dwindled in numbers, thanks to infighting, zombies, and confrontations with armed survivors. From the sound of it, most of them had been inebriated or high through most of the first months.

  For a long time, the bandits had avoided the fort out of fear of a military presence. It was only later that they realized the fort was just civilians. Once the hot weather blew in, they began scavenging for food. Then they realized that the fort they had been ignoring had claimed the food before they arrived. They had done some drunken hunting to sustain themselves, but eventually, their desire for guns and food had push
ed them toward the fort.

  Bill took a long drink and stared out toward the hills.

  How long the bandits had watched, Clyde wasn’t sure. But their leader, Martin Boyd, had been smart and sober enough to herd some zombies down to the fort to see what happened. He had put the gun store under constant watch. Martin had been sure that the people in the fort would return to the hunting store when they felt threatened enough by the bandits and zombies. He had monitored enough of the conversations between the fort and Ralph to know of its importance.

  Bill rubbed his brow and sighed.

  The survivors in the fort had been so terrified of the bandits. The precautions taken had been extraordinary. Every inch of the fort had been scrutinized. Extra spears had been made. They had attached barbwire along the tops of the walls. Contingency plans were made for every possibility they could think of. Everyone had been gripped with paranoia. Even the children had been instructed in protecting themselves. One of the worst images in his mind was of Peggy’s son wielding one of their makeshift spears. Peggy had to take it away from him before he stabbed someone.

  Taking a long swig of his beer, Bill sat back in the plastic chair and let the warm breeze flow over him.

  The bandits had been routed, but they were nothing more than drug-addled hoodlums. What if there were more dangerous and clever people out there? That thought terrified him. Could they make the fort safe enough to withstand anything? He looked over the street, wondering. There were no lights to be seen anywhere but the fort. The world was so black and empty, the stars shone with unequaled brilliance above.

  How long the fort’s lights would stay on was anyone’s guess. So far it was good, but there were plenty of generators on standby. Hopefully things would remain as they were for the fall and winter.

  He was glad that his wife, Doreen, had not lived to see this day. She had fought the cancer diligently, but now he was glad she had lost that battle. It would have been sheer hell to see her endure this.