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

by Frater, Rhiannon

  “Yeah, but Stacey needed training, and the supply caravan isn’t back yet so Jenni couldn’t help her. …” Katie rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m just sick of being cooped up and not doing anything.”

  Travis kissed her brow. “Yeah, but you’re pregnant, and after that bad cough you had, Charlotte told you to take it easy. You should pay attention to our resident nurse.”

  “Shooting zombies really isn’t taxing,” Katie insisted. “Anyway, I need to feel I’m doing something.”

  “Inventory is doing something,” Travis insisted. “Plus it keeps you inside and warm until you’re back to full fighting form.”

  Katie tried not to look as peeved as she felt. Her husband was damn annoying when he was being overprotective, but she really couldn’t blame him. This was their first child, and the world had been turned upside down. Medicine was scarce and their food supply was limited. The processed food that made up the survivors’ diet wasn’t exactly rich in nutrients. There were plans for vegetable gardens that hopefully would have a good yield and generate healthier meals.

  “You better not try to keep me off sentry duty when I’m feeling one hundred percent. I don’t like being coddled.” Katie gave him a grumpy glare, then let herself lean into him.

  Travis briefly cuddled her. “You’re so cold. You don’t need to relapse. Please get in where it’s warm.”

  Stacey smirked as she fiddled with the crossbow, pretending not to listen.

  “Fine. You win. But you better let me know when the caravan gets back. They’re running late and I’m starting to worry.”

  “Will do,” Travis promised.

  Katie waved to Stacey, then climbed down the stairs. She hoped Jenni and the others would be back soon. The sky was low and threatening, a sure sign that bad weather was on the way. She hurried into the hotel and out of the cold wind that moaned like the undead zombies in the world beyond the walls.

  CHAPTER TWO

  1.

  Battle of the Undead

  Her nickname wasn’t Loca for nothing, Jenni thought as she slipped her gun out of her belt, flipped off the safety, and began to systematically shoot zombies. Gouts of decaying gore exploded out of their rotting heads.

  “Jenni!” Behind her, Ed sounded pissed.

  The zombies were so intent on their feast, they didn’t even look up as she approached. The stench of fresh death combined with the reek of decay, and Jenni tried hard not to gag. The zombies were tearing at one another frantically, ripping away tattered clothes and rotting flesh as they tried to get to the living. Their moans were a terrible rumble.

  Curtis slid into her peripheral view, firing his weapon. Jogging, Felix passed Jenni, using two pistols on the undead. Katarina had taken up a sniper’s position and was picking off any zombie that got too close to the people huddled on top of the van. As one managed to snag the foot of someone on the roof, Katarina’s shot severed the zombie’s hand.

  As Jenni drew closer, she could clearly see the zombies huddled over their victim, stuffing muscle and skin into their mouths with feverish delight. Dead, gray flesh was peeling off their bones, and their clothes were tatters. Many were missing limbs. A few had odd objects sticking out of their bodies, such as knives, pieces of furniture, tree limbs, and in one case, an umbrella.

  Jenni felt her throat tighten as a small child-zombie staggered into view. It was gripping part of a bloody rib in one hand while trying to fight off much larger zombies. Jenni put a bullet through the little one’s forehead.

  “Reloading,” she said, and Curtis moved in front of her to provide cover.

  The old clip slid out with ease and she tucked it quickly into her jeans pocket before slamming a new one home. Looking up, she saw that their situation had taken a nasty turn.

  The zombies were heading up the hill toward the people from the convoy.

  “Keep the line,” Ed barked.

  Forming two lines that stretched over the width of the road, Jenni and her companions advanced on the undead. The first line unleashed on the zombies, then dropped back to reload while the second group took over. Then the second group dropped back and the first group went forward again. The walking dead jerked and tumbled in a bizarre dance as they were gunned down, bullets ripping through their mottled features and punching out the backs of their skulls.

  “Nearly got them all now,” Ed called out.

  “Watch out! Watch out! They’re coming out of the trees!” a deep voice thundered from atop the van just as Jenni was reloading again. “Running zombies!”

  Six runners sprinted out of the tall, dry grass and naked trees lining the road toward the humans. Their freshly killed bodies glistened with blood in the cold sunlight. Gaping wounds, terrible and grotesque, decorated their torsos and throats, but their limbs were still intact and they moved swiftly. The group from the fort concentrated on taking down the runners; the slow zombies were a lot less dangerous than these fast ones.

  “Don’t panic! Don’t panic!” Ed shouted, but people did anyway. Runners were so swift, it was hard to hit them with a kill shot. The lines shattered. Jenni yanked her ax off her back as her pistol clicked empty. She had no time to reload and shoved the gun into her belt before gripping the ax handle tightly with both hands.

  “More runners!” someone was shouting.

  Runners were now coming up off the side of the road. Men, women, children, their faces snarled into hungry expressions. The gunfire was rapid now. People were firing and reloading as fast as they could.

  Jenni met the first runner as Curtis ducked out of the way to reload. She swung the ax as hard as she could; the blade struck deep into the thing’s neck. It scrabbled at her, its fingers skidding along the leather of her jacket. She shoved it back with one foot, jerking the ax out of its flesh. Blood spewed over her as she slashed at it a second time, beheading it. The head rolled away as the body fell.

  Another zombie was almost on her—a woman, her frizzy blond hair matted with blood. Her face was partially torn from her skull, and her throat was nothing but strips of flesh and spine. Jenni pivoted, bringing her elbow up firmly into the zombie’s chin. The creature was screaming and the impact of Jenni’s blow rammed her jaw up hard enough to clip off the tip of her tongue with her own bloody teeth. Shoving the dead woman away, Jenni got a little distance between them, then neatly decapitated the zombie with a single swing of her ax.

  “Help! Help!” Curtis sounded terrified.

  Jenni spun. He was on the ground, one arm lifted defensively. A zombie had his forearm in its teeth and was shaking its head wildly, trying to bite through the thick leather of Curtis’s jacket. Jenni slammed the ax blade down onto its head, splitting open its skull. It fell, lifeless. Curtis scrambled to his feet.

  Chaos surrounded Jenni, but the zombies were dying. She saw them falling under machetes, spears, and bullets. Nearby, she saw one of the fort people struggling to get a runner off his back as the creature gnawed at the back of his neck. Blood rained around the man’s terrified face as he screamed.

  “Dammit! They got Bob!” Jenni yelled.

  The words had barely left her lips when two shots roared out, killing both the runner and Bob.

  Something brushed Jenni’s shoulder and she twisted around, ax ready to strike, but it was only Felix. He’d tripped over a body. Recovering, he fired into the face of a slower, more-decayed zombie grabbing at him. The runners were down, their blood making the road slick. The rest of the zombies were shambling toward the fort people and tripping over the remains of their former companions.

  Felix kicked the feet out from under a zombie and shot it point-blank in the face. “I hate these things.”

  Feeling the heat of battle in her veins, Jenni marched toward the slower zombies, ax poised. Felix fell in beside her on one side and Ed on the other, and together they destroyed the stumbling creatures.

  “We’re done,” Ed said.

  Jenni looked up from the zombie she had just dispatched. A bit of its nose and brai
n stuck to the ax blade. The fighters congratulated one another on the swift victory and started cleaning off their blades and reloading their guns. Meanwhile, Ed and Curtis were checking everyone for bites before allowing them to return to the vehicles.

  A bite was lethal. There was no cure. Whatever was carried in the saliva of the zombies always turned their victims if the brain remained intact. But bite victims didn’t always die and come back. Sometimes people merely turned and attacked. No one knew why.

  The road was littered with the dead. Jenni took a few deep breaths and instantly regretted it due to the stench. All of a sudden, Jenni felt her heart beating hard in her chest and became aware of her uneven breathing. Her arms ached from wielding her ax. During the fighting, she had felt nothing but the exhilaration of killing. Now she hurt all over.

  “Anyone bit?” Ed’s voice was hard. Glowering at the people milling around him, he made a point of cocking his shotgun. “I said, is anyone bit? Look yourselves over.”

  Jenni directed her attention to the van. The people they had saved were an older couple dressed in clothing native to India; two small children with the biggest, darkest eyes she had ever seen; a huge man with dark hair, a deep tan, and unruly muttonchops; and an older white woman dressed in a flowing skirt and blouse.

  “You okay?”

  “No one is bit up here,” the big man replied. He was heavily muscled and looked like a wrestler.

  The gore around the van was making Jenni’s stomach heave. The man she saw fall from the roof had been consumed down to the bone. His skull gleamed under strips of flesh. She was drawing near when she saw his jaws open and close.

  “That’s fucked up,” Felix said in a trembling voice just before he shot it.

  “Its brain was intact,” Jenni sighed. Her stomach roiled. Felix rubbed her back, and she closed her eyes and regained her composure.

  “Let’s get you guys down,” she said.

  When the huge guy jumped down from the van, he slipped on the blood and guts but caught himself. “Damn. Messy. Poor Jacob.”

  Jenni reached up for one of the kids, but the little girl shied away, hiding her face in the folds of the older woman’s sari.

  “Jenni, are you bit?”

  She glanced at Curtis, shaking her head.

  “I need to check. Fort rules, you know.”

  Sighing, Jenni lowered her hands and stepped away from the van. Holding out her arms, legs spread, she let Curtis check her. He even looked behind her ears. With a curt nod, he moved on to Felix.

  Jenni lifted up her arms again to help the children off the van. This time, the grandmother whispered a few words to the little girl and scooted her to the edge. As Jenni’s hands settled on the child’s waist, she looked up into the enormous black eyes fearfully gazing at her. “It’s okay,” Jenni promised.

  “Jenni, her hand,” Felix said, his voice ragged.

  Her eyes fell from the girl’s face to the small hand clutching the thick leather of Jenni’s jacket. Blood was seeping from a wound just below the little finger. A chunk of flesh was missing.

  “No,” Jenni gasped.

  Looking up, she saw the little girl’s dark eyes growing dimmer. Beneath her hands, she felt the tiny heartbeat growing fainter.

  “Jenni!” Felix gasped.

  “What is it?” the big guy asked, alarmed.

  Jenni saw the spark of life fade out of the girl’s eyes. With a scream of anger and fear, she threw the child away from her.

  The little one hit the ground and rolled.

  Her family cried out angrily in their own language.

  The girl sprang to her feet, twisted around, and snarled.

  2.

  The Biker from Hell

  Rune had been on the road for a long time and was eager for a much-needed rest. The big Harley under him roared with power as it raged over the weed-infested road. He adjusted his goggles and tucked his long white braid into the collar of his leather jacket.

  The darkened sky and barren hills were not welcoming. He had a bad feeling the day was going to get worse fast. He was on his way to meet up with his old buddy Dale and a bunch of people who had escaped from a rescue center outside Waco. Since the zombie rising, Rune had been on the road nearly nonstop. He had been past the rescue center twice before. The first time, it seemed safe enough, with barely any zombies stumbling around in town. But the last time, he was nearly dragged off his bike by a throng of zombies. A few grenades tossed into the crowd had cleared his way, and his helmet and leathers kept him safe from hungry mouths and grasping gnarled hands. It had been a fluke that he saw the spray-painted map and message, GOING TO THE FORT, on a billboard outside of town. Rune already knew where the fort was located, thanks to an unfortunate meeting with some bandits a few months back. The bandits had been targeting the fort. Rune hoped the place was still standing.

  Rune never stayed long in any of the survivor encampments he came across. He didn’t like trusting his safety to others. Most of the survivors had very little food or weapons and were just waiting for rescue. They didn’t like it when he told them that they were damn fools. No one was coming to save them.

  In a field next to the winding road, a herd of cows sauntered slowly toward shelter as the wind grew colder. It smelled like an ice storm, and Rune hoped to God in Heaven the fort was still there and that he’d be able to grab a cot for the night.

  The Harley roared up a hill, and Rune quickly braked when he spotted a bunch of vehicles parked on the road. Sliding his Glock out of its holster, he weaved through the tangle of big vehicles. As the bike came out the other side, he saw a group of people milling around the remains of some pretty rancid zombies, and beyond them, a van with a few people on top.

  A young man with blond hair and a worried expression looked toward him, surprise filling his features. “Hey, you!”

  “Hey, yourself,” Rune answered grumpily.

  “Hey! You! Slow down! Who are you?” the young man persisted, jogging to keep up.

  As Rune neared the van, a young woman suddenly hurled a little girl across the road just in front of his bike. He skidded to a stop, one foot planted firmly on the bloodied asphalt.

  The child jumped to its feet, whirled around, and let out the terrifying screech of the walking dead. The little zombie hurtled across the road, heading straight for the startled humans. They raised their weapons but Rune was faster. His Glock barked. The bullet ripped into the side of the kid’s head, blowing a pretty good-sized hole in it. The girl crashed to the ground.

  As the gunshot echoed in the distance, the surviving humans all stared down at the small, sad figure. One by one, their gazes shifted to the new arrival.

  “Name’s Rune. Just passing through,” he said.

  “Good to see you, you son of a bitch,” a gruff, familiar voice called out.

  His gaze was drawn to the van, where an older woman with waist-length hair was being helped down by a big bear of a man who was none other than his buddy Dale.

  “I’ll be damned!” Rune said. “What the hell happened at the rescue center?”

  “Got overrun when some people decided to try to get supplies from the grocery store and brought a whole mess of zombies down on us. The doors didn’t hold,” Dale answered as he helped the Indian couple down.

  “Okay, people. Let’s get back to the fort!” an older, grizzled man called out. “First we’ll check you for bites and if you’re clean, you can come with us.”

  The pretty woman with the black hair—the one who had thrown the child—was standing a few feet away, her head down. She was staring at the little girl’s corpse. The Indian woman howled in agony as she was led away by a woman with red hair. Her husband looked stricken, but was mute as he carried the other small child with him. Rune wanted to feel for them, but he had seen too much to indulge in compassion. It was a fucked-up world, and fucked-up things happened in it.

  The witchy older woman—Rune remembered she was named Maddie Goode—covered the child’s b
ody with her shawl. An older man took her arm and escorted her toward the bus.

  “Good to see you, Rune,” she said as she walked past his bike.

  “And you, Maddie,” he answered.

  Dale lumbered over to him. “Heading for the fort?”

  “Yeah. Need to find a place to crash before the storm hits.” He shook Dale’s hand firmly, their leather gloves creaking.

  “You’re going to the fort?” It was the gorgeous woman who spoke. He hadn’t even realized she was eavesdropping.

  Rune felt a little flutter in his belly as he eyed her. Her pale skin was splattered with blood, the ax in her hand still dripping. “Yeah.”

  “Can I ride with you?”

  “Sure.”

  The woman slid the ax into the sheath on her back and climbed behind him onto the bike. Her fingers gripped his leather jacket. In his mirrors, he noted that she was still staring at the little girl.

  “See you at the fort,” Dale said, clapping him on the shoulder and winking before striding away to the waiting vehicles.

  “Hold on,” Rune said to the woman, glancing at her over his shoulder.

  She didn’t answer. The young man who had yelled at Rune earlier grabbed the kid by her ankle and dragged her shawl-covered body off the road. Finally, the woman looked away.

  Rune gunned the engine and headed for the fort, leaving the convoy behind. He was strangely entranced by the silent creature behind him. She was beautiful. Her eyes were large and haunted, but the set of her jaw told him she was a fighter. He wanted to say something to her, but he observed that she was in her own head, dealing with her own shit.

  As they rode, the woman let down her long hair and closed her eyes as the wind streamed through it. The tension around her jaw alleviated a bit and Rune tried hard not to keep looking at her in his mirrors. He felt her slowly relaxing and was pretty sure the ride was doing her some good.

  The trip to Ashley Oaks was uneventful. He was impressed by the high walls surrounding the old hotel, newspaper building, and city hall. He was even more impressed with the gated entry. As he drove through, he looked up to see sentries on the walls watching with interest.