2.
Time to Go
Rune awoke with a start. His hand automatically gripped his Glock as he sat up. He pointed the gun at the figure at the end of the bed as his brain sputtered into wakefulness. The room was dark, but the figure at the end of the bed was a black blot. He nearly expected the thing to moan and reach for him, then realized he wasn’t facing a zombie.
Flipping on the lamp next to the bed stand, he stared blearily at the transparent man standing at the foot of his bed. Setting down the Glock, Rune groaned.
“What do you want, buddy?”
The man opened and closed his mouth, forming silent words.
“You need to speak up. I can’t hear you.”
The room grew steadily colder as the apparition tried again. It managed one word— “Help”—before it lost its tentative hold on the physical world and vanished.
Rune shivered as the room became even colder. His breath turned to mist. Standing, he grabbed up his jeans and boots, whispering, “Damnit.” He felt the faint touch of the dead as they gathered around him and the room filled with shimmers of light and shadow.
“I can’t help you,” he said flatly. “I can’t hear you. Stop pestering me.” Frustration and despair filled him as he pulled on his leather vest and reached for his heavy jacket. The delicate touches of the dead fluttered over his skin. He tried to brush them away, but they were persistent.
The room was freezing. Cussing under his breath, he grabbed his motorcycle bags and headed for the door. Though he’d lived in the fort for two weeks, he’d never unpacked, always anticipating this moment.
Striding down the hall, he saw the air rippling around him. A few of the spirits had enough energy to actually grab his arms, but he shrugged them off.
In the beginning, Rune tried to help the ghosts he encountered, but over time, he’d realized that the spirits were simply trapped. Nothing he said helped to guide them on.
Ignoring the elevator, he headed down the stairs, his bootheels sounding like thunder rolling through the stairwell. The spirits were losing energy quickly, burning themselves out trying to hold on to him. He hit the bottom floor and cut across the lobby, heading for the construction site.
The exit was through what had once been a janitor’s closet. Stepping in, he was startled when a hand grabbed his arm in an iron grip and a powerful stench wafted over him. Rune yanked himself away, his Glock already in his hand. Then he heard Calhoun mutter, “I can’t remember!”
“What the hell, Calhoun?” Rune shoved the gun back into its holster, frowning. The old codger had given him a dreadful fright.
“I can’t remember something important. And it’s eatin’ at me! I saw something long ago and then again a few days ago, and I know it was important.” He faltered, obviously struggling to grasp a flitting thought. Abruptly he spun, shoved open the door, and plunged into the night, perhaps chasing that thought. Rune sighed and followed.
He didn’t feel the ghosts right then, but he knew they would catch up. His only real hope for peace of mind was to head out into the deadlands and keep moving.
He was sorry to have to leave the fort. He would miss Maddie and Dale. He’d allowed himself the luxury of becoming a part of the community, maybe even deceived himself into believing he could stay for longer than a few days.
Ahead of him, Calhoun suddenly came to a stop and turned around. “The Whore of Babylon. That was what it was about. She was in cahoots with the one that ended up killed in a woman’s dress. She … she…” His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. Clutching his hands to his face, Calhoun wailed. “I can’t remember. It was … it was…”
In the distance a rooster crowed, long and loud.
“Chickens!” Calhoun shouted. “Chickens!”
The old guy was sure in a tizzy. It must suck to have lost your mind. Rune climbed the stairs that led over the wall and into the fort’s huge parking area. He’d left his bike in one of the old newspaper garages. The door was closed but not locked; he easily rolled it up and headed inside. As he pulled the tarp off his bike, he heard a noise behind him that sounded like a door opening. He turned to look, but didn’t see anything through the gloom.
“Hello?” Rune called, not too loudly.
There was no response. Rune shook his head. The damn ghosts had him spooked. Securing his bags to the bike, he took a deep breath. It was time to move on again and that was all there was to it. No time for regrets or fear. He rolled the motorcycle into the open air and realized that the sun had begun to peek over the horizon.
Ed was standing nearby, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “Heading out, Rune?” the older man asked.
“Yeah,” Rune replied, then pulled down the garage door.
Behind Ed, Rune saw the sentries changing shift on the wall. The early-morning crew was arriving to work on reinforcing the perimeter. The smell of Ed’s coffee was incredibly tempting, but Rune didn’t dare go back to the hotel for anything. That would only stir up the ghosts. It was hard enough to stay focused when he had to deal with only one or two. He couldn’t handle a whole town’s worth.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay,” Ed said.
“Yeah. I know that. But it’s time to move on. I can’t stay long in one place. My nature don’t permit it.” Rune felt that was explanation enough.
“I understand. I’ll get the gates opened for ya.” Ed moved off.
Rune straddled his bike and tugged on his thick leather gloves. His braid of white hair fell over one shoulder as he zipped up his leather jacket.
Glancing toward Ed, Rune saw a woman with short brown hair smiling at him. Her long black dress flowed down to shiny black boots, and ornate jewelry decorated her neck and wrists.
“Damn,” he whispered, mesmerized by the spirit.
“We’ll let you know when it’s time to head back,” she said in a clear, melodic voice.
Rune slowly bobbed his head. “Okay.”
“You’ll be needed later,” she continued. “Stay alive.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Rune noticed that the edges of her figure were slightly blurred, but he was sure he could touch her if he tried. Ed stepped through the apparition and she vanished.
“Here’s your grenades. Hope they serve you well,” Ed said, handing over the bag he’d retrieved from the storage locker, where Rune had deposited the grenades when he first arrived at the fort. “Once the first gate is open and you’re in the lock, we’ll close it up, then open the second. Area’s clear of zombies, but be careful. Got Katarina, the sniper, watching out for ya.”
“Gotcha. And thanks, man.” Rune clasped hands with the older man after slinging the bag of grenades over his shoulder, then gunned the motorcycle to life. He had to be rattled to almost forget his grenades.
“You’re always welcome to come back.”
“I think I will, someday. Kinda … got that feeling.” He settled his goggles into place as Ed nodded.
Minutes later, Rune’s bike roared down the abandoned streets of Ashley Oaks, away from the fort and into the deadlands.
3.
The Whore of Babylon
For once, Jenni dreamed blissful dreams. Secure in Juan’s arms, she slept deeply and did not awaken once. Juan left early in the morning. Jenni roused briefly when he kissed her before sliding out of bed, then fell back to sleep. When the alarm clock went off two hours later, she groggily climbed out of bed.
After a long hot shower, she pulled on her work clothes and fussed with her hair, thinking how wonderful the night had been. She felt amazingly happy and at peace.
There was a knock on the door. Jenni flung it open, expecting to see Katie. Instead, it was Blanche.
“Oh, hi, bitch.” Jenni couldn’t imagine what the woman wanted.
Blanche smiled. “Hi, spic,” she answered.
Jenni never saw what hit her, but suddenly the world swirled into darkness and she felt herself falling.
* * *
“Let’s mak
e this quick,” Blanche ordered the two heavily muscled men standing behind her.
“You got it, babe.” Ray gestured and the younger man, Brewster Johnson, moved to help him. Together, the men half carried, half dragged Jenni down the hall. Blanche walked swiftly behind them, still gripping the kid-sized baseball bat she had used to club Jenni.
Blanche felt that she had timed Jenni’s abduction perfectly. Most of the rednecks were already performing their daily chores. She didn’t anticipate any interference. She was finally going to be free of the fort and the idiots running it. She had given in to her husband long enough, and it was time to take matters into her own hands. She never should have let Steven talk her into coming to the fort in the first place, and now she wasn’t going to stay there a moment longer than she had to.
“Ray, go get Juan,” she told the big man with the thick wavy hair. Inwardly she smiled, remembering how good he was in bed. Better than her idiot husband. “Meet us in the garage near my Hummer.”
“Gotcha,” he said, and hurried off.
Brewster slung Jenni over one meaty shoulder as they hurried to the service elevator. “Why do we need Jenni?”
Brewster was young and handsome with his fair hair and skin, but a bit slow. “Because her spic boyfriend controls the gate and if we have her with us, he’ll do what we say.”
“Then we let her go?” Brewster asked.
“Of course not. I need someone to clean the mansion,” Blanche said with a smirk.
The service elevator opened and Blanche stepped in. Brewster followed with Jenni. Blanche straightened her blouse under her leather coat and admired her snakeskin boots. Soon she would have all her lovely things back.
Including her car …
Blanche still couldn’t believe Steven had let the fort leaders ransack their home and take her precious Hummer. She had fully expected him to become the fort’s new mayor. Instead, he had bowed out of the race.
Her husband was an idiot if he believed she would forgive him for that.
The doors snapped open on a back hallway and Blanche strode quickly to a reinforced door that opened into the small enclosed courtyard between the hotel and the newspaper building. Brewster huffed behind her. After opening the door to the newspaper building, Blanche marched confidently past the old offices, now used for storage. She slipped through the doorway to the loading dock.
The bay doors were closed and the trucks were swathed in shadow, but she could still make out her beautiful Hummer, looking out of place among the shitkicker vehicles the fort’s vermin had collected. The keys for the trucks, buses, and cars hung on hooks on a wooden board; Blanche grabbed the ones for the Hummer. Ray had hidden her overnight bag in the garage last night, and now she pulled it out from behind a pile of tires before heading for her car. A second car was hidden in town packed with items her men had sneaked over the wall for her. Blanche smiled, thinking how smoothly everything had gone. Her fingers briefly touched the gun in her pocket that Ray had salvaged for her. He’d even found a silencer for it.
As they reached the Hummer, Blanche reminded Brewster, “Don’t say anything. I’ll do all the talking. Set her down, but hold her upright.”
He shifted Jenni off his shoulder and held her, drooping but as upright as possible, against his side.
“Blanche?” Ah, her lame duck husband had arrived on schedule.
“Over here, Steven.”
She rather enjoyed the startled expression on his face when he rounded a truck and saw her and her companions.
“What are you doing?” His voice was sharp yet uncertain.
“What you don’t have the balls to do,” she answered with her prize-winning smile.
A brief flash of sunlight announced Juan and Ray as they opened the side door to the paddock. Juan jogged toward them, a frantic expression on his face. Blanche wondered what Ray had told him to get him to the garage.
“What happened? Is Jenni okay?” Juan asked as he drew near. “How did she get hurt?”
Blanche calmly drew her gun from her pocket and pressed the muzzle of the silencer against the underside of Jenni’s chin.
Juan stopped cold. “What the fuck?”
“Blanche!” Steven shouted.
“We’re leaving and you’re opening the gate,” Blanche said coolly.
Juan glared at Ray, who backed away, ducking his head. “What the hell is going on, Ray? What did you do to Jenni?”
“We’re leaving, Juan,” the big man said.
“You could have just asked,” Juan said furiously.
“Oh, like you would have let us have the Hummer,” Blanche said mockingly.
“This is about your fucking car?” Juan said, looking startled and angry at the same time.
“Blanche, this is uncalled for,” Steven sputtered.
Blanche rolled her eyes. “What’s been uncalled for is my fucking treatment around here. I am taking my car and my men, and I’m going home.”
Steven appeared speechless as his eyes darted toward Juan.
“Fine, but you can’t take Jenni!” Juan stepped forward, his hands clenched at his sides.
“I’ll give her back to you once we’re through the gate. I’ll leave her on a corner somewhere in town and you can hurry your tight little ass to get her before the zombies do,” Blanche lied.
“Blanche, you can’t do this! I’ll get us home safe if you give me enough time,” Steven protested.
“I’m tired of waiting on you, Steven. Or maybe I’m just tired of you.” Blanche dismissed him with a look of disdain.
“So you were fucking Shane,” Steven growled.
“At least he was good enough to stock up our mansion with supplies and promise to help me get the hell out of here.”
“Bitch,” Juan spat. “I should have known you were up to no good.”
Blanche flipped the safety off. “I have no problem shooting your girlfriend if you don’t do as I say.”
“You shoot her, I won’t let you out.” Juan’s gaze was riveted on Jenni and the gun.
“Someone else will let us out because then you’ll be our hostage,” Blanche assured him.
“I don’t believe you,” Juan retorted. “You don’t have it in you.”
Blanche’s eyes flicked toward her husband. Without another word, she shot him twice in the chest. She felt some satisfaction as his expression of surprise gave way to horror before he collapsed.
“Damn,” Ray said.
“You’re fucking crazy!” Juan shouted.
“Start the car,” Blanche told Ray, tossing him the keys.
Having easily snagged the keys, Ray headed for the Hummer. Blanche noticed that Brewster was eyeing Ray uneasily, though he kept a firm grip on Jenni. Blanche wondered if she had read him wrong. She sighed. Stupid Shane. He would have had her back.
Juan held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “Just take me, okay? Let her go. I’ll tell them to open the gate, and you can drop me off somewhere. Okay?”
Blanche considered it. It was a tempting offer, but she really needed a maid. “Now, Juan, don’t go messing up my plans.”
“Give me Jenni and then just go. Just go.” She heard the strain in his voice and saw the fear in his eyes.
Anger flooded through her and she felt the heat of it rise in her face. He made it sound so easy, but she had a point to make. She hadn’t clawed her way out of the trailer park to be forced to mop, dust, wash dishes, and put up with stupid people. She was a shining daughter of the fucking state of Texas. How dare they treat her like shit?
“Blanche, put the gun down and let Jenni go,” Juan urged her, misreading her hesitation.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” She swung the gun around and fired.
Juan staggered backwards and collapsed.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Brewster demanded.
As Blanche turned to tell him to shut the fuck up, Jenni’s head snapped back, breaking Brewster’s nose with a loud thwack. Blood sprayed everywhere. Blanche
twisted away, trying to avoid it. Brewster grunted and went down with a thud.
Something hard smashed into Blanche’s temple and sent her spinning. The revolver flew from her hand as she landed, gasping, on the disgusting, oily floor. Before she could gather herself, she was flipped onto her back. She saw a blur of long black hair and a pale face; then something hit her cheekbone with a sickening thud. Pain splintered her thoughts as she was pummeled into senselessness.
4.
Winter Sky
Jenni staggered away from Blanche, her hands and face splattered with red. Her hands were a mess—bruised and battered, her knuckles torn open—but she didn’t care. The bitch was down and not moving. She grabbed Blanche’s fancy gun and pivoted to take aim at Ray and Brewster. Brewster was unconscious, but Ray was nowhere to be seen.
Jenni cried, tears hot on her face. She stumbled forward, her head throbbing. She’d regained consciousness moments before Blanche killed Steven, but had stayed limp, waiting for the right moment to try to escape. She’d been watching through her hair, with her eyes barely open, when Juan was shot. As anger swept through her, she had moved almost without thinking.
Juan lay slumped against the wall. Blood was pooling around his body, and his shirt was soaked. Falling to her knees, she whispered to him in Spanish.
Juan was barely able to lift his head. “Loca,” he gasped.
Jenni put the gun down and quickly removed her sweater, then pressed the wadded-up garment against the wound in the left side of Juan’s chest, trying to stanch the bleeding. She didn’t want to think about the damage the bullet might have done.
“Tengo frio,” Juan whispered.
“We’ll get you somewhere warm,” Jenni promised.
“I … always … thought … she was … a stupid … bitch…,” Juan muttered.
“Shh … don’t worry about her. I beat the hell out of her. No one messes with my man.”
“That’s … my … Loca. …” Juan smiled, but he looked too pale and his eyes were growing glassy.
His blood was hot against her flesh, soaking into the sweater. Jenni didn’t want to leave him, but she needed help. “Baby, forgive me. This might hurt.”
There were moments that would be forever seared into the memories of those who lived and worked in the fort. The terror of the first day, the raising of the first wall, the battle against the horde of zombies from the school, and countless others.
As The World Dies Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 72
