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

by Frater, Rhiannon

  “Yolanda can do it,” Travis stated.

  “I’ll find her,” Stacey said, vanishing into the crowd.

  Eric rubbed the bridge of his nose with one finger, shoved his glasses back into place, then shook his head. “I better check in with Nerit.” He hurried off.

  From the change in the hum of conversation in the ballroom, Katie guessed that people were learning about the deaths. She saw looks of dismay and sorrow on many faces. She remembered something Peggy had said to her once: There are no secrets in a small Texas town. If you fart, everyone knows what you had for dinner.

  “Oh, gawd, Peggy,” Katie whispered. How many more would they lose today? Clasping Travis’s arm, she appealed to him. “They need to know that there is hope. You and the reverend need to speak to everyone before those things get here.”

  As if drawn by her comment, Reverend Thomas approached. “Travis,” he said, “the people are in despair. We need to rally them.”

  Travis sighed. Katie knew that he hated the idea of talking to a crowd, but she could tell that he knew he had no choice. “I agree. Let’s head down to communications.” He kissed Katie again and whispered, “How do you always know what’s needed?” before heading for the elevators with the reverend at his side.

  With a sigh, Katie brushed her blond hair from her face and looked out over the desolate swath of land before the fort. She could clearly see the ramshackle wall of debris around the fort. She wondered what progress Rune and Calhoun had made in fixing the main firetrap. If that didn’t work right …

  Suddenly she was very afraid.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  1.

  Time to Die

  “Move it, Calhoun. They’re coming and they’re hungry,” Rune said firmly. He was unfazed by the reek coming off the crazy old guy.

  They’d been lowered to the ground outside the walls on a makeshift elevator—a shipping pallet suspended from a crane—first Rune and his bike, then Calhoun. Now Rune straddled the Harley and motioned for Calhoun to climb on. While the “elevator” was being set up, he’d gotten his bag of grenades out of storage. Now the bag rested firmly against his side. Today seemed like a good day to blow stuff up.

  “I ain’t as young as you, you long-haired hippie,” Calhoungroused, swinging his leg over the bike on his second try.

  “I ain’t a hippie, Cal,” Rune answered.

  Calhoun’s response turned into a shout as the motorcycle lurched forward, roaring over the rough terrain.

  “The fire line is a damn good idea to push back the dead fucks!” Rune hollered over the roar of the motorcycle.

  “I know how to deal with this stuff. Years and years of planning for the clone uprising.”

  “You may be a crazy old shithead, Cal, but you know what’s going on, in your own way,” Rune almost growled. “You’re a mean old codger.”

  “Not as mean as Nerit,” Calhoun said, pouting.

  “No one is as mean as Nerit,” Rune admitted, stopping the bike.

  It had taken only a minute or so to reach their destination, close to the barriers made of dirt, brush, tree trunks, and the bulldozed remains of houses and buildings. Several gas tanks had been half-buried in the soil and linked to remote detonators. If it worked right, the barrier would go up like kindling.

  Calhoun fell to his knees and dug up the device he’d rigged to explode the fuel tanks. He popped open the huge metal box and began to examine it closely.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Rune asked.

  “Don’t know yet,” Calhoun answered. “Tried to run the start-up sequence remotely and there was no response. Problem’s gotta be at this end.”

  “’Cause, you know, it’s almost time,” Rune said, arms folded across his chest. “If you don’t get this fire going, they’re gonna come right over this barrier. Then we’ll have ’em up against the walls.”

  Though the wind was mostly blowing away from the fort, Rune could faintly smell the zombies. It was the all-too-familiar smell of death.

  “I know.” Calhoun glared down at the device. “Gawddamn gremlins got into it. I knew it!” Calhoun beat the ground with one fist, then controlled himself and adjusted his satellite dish hat. “Okay, I need Jason.”

  “The kid?”

  “Yeah, the kid! You know, our future leader. Our John Connor? Our freaking salvation!”

  “Take a chill pill, Cal, I’m calling the fort,” Rune said, yanking out his walkie-talkie.

  “I don’t need a chill pill,” Calhoun asserted as he began to sort the wires with his grubby fingers. “I need the freaking gremlins to stay out of my stuff.”

  “We need Jason down here, Peggy,” Rune said.

  There was static for a moment, then, “Okay, I let him know,” said a voice that was not Peggy’s.

  “Hey, Yolanda,” Rune said. “You pulling a double shift?”

  “Yeah, things are not so good with Peggy.”

  “That sucks,” Rune said, and didn’t press it. He didn’t want to know.

  Calhoun rubbed his big nose and frowned. “Whose idea was it to blow up the gawddern fuel tanks?”

  “Yours,” Rune answered.

  “Gawddammit! Why do people listen to me? I’m freaking nuts!”

  “And that, sir, is why they listen to you,” Rune said, laughing.

  Calhoun shot him a disgusted look. Then he, too, began to laugh.

  Surrounded by the slowly strengthening stench of death, the two men laughed at the absurdity of life until tears ran from their eyes.

  * * *

  Reggie, a big black man, steadied the pallet as Jason climbed on, tool bag on his shoulder. The teenager took a firm grip on one of the thick cables.

  “Ready?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah,” Jason answered.

  Reggie released the pallet and signaled the crane operator. The clumsy elevator lifted with a sickening lurch and started to swing over the wall.

  With a sharp bark, Jack dodged around Reggie and leaped onto the pallet, landing with a yelp. Jason grabbed the dog’s collar as the pallet swung sharply due to the unexpected weight and motion. Boy and dog slid across the wood for a moment before the platform stabilized. Tucking Jack securely between his legs, Jason looked down at his startled pet.

  “Damn dog, you were supposed to stay with the kids,” Jason chided him.

  Jack gave him a soulful, apologetic look. As the pallet was lowered to the ground, the big shepherd growled low in his throat and laid his ears back.

  “I know, boy,” Jason said, fear in his voice. “They’re coming.”

  * * *

  Calhoun was in a tizzy, muttering angrily to himself.

  “Smells worse than you now, Calhoun,” Rune said, sniffing the air and glancing over his shoulder at the makeshift barrier.

  “Soap is ungodly and unnatural. It poisons you slowly,” Calhoun declared.

  With Jack at his side, Jason rushed up to Calhoun and fell to his knees beside the old man. He and Calhoun bent low over the detonator. Jack stood guard, staring at the barrier and growling.

  Rune turned, following the dog’s gaze. “You know,” Rune drawled. “I always wanted to die a noble death.”

  Coming up over the top of the barrier was a lone zombie. When it saw the people, it let out a mournful wail, stretched out its gnarled hands, and limped forward.

  “I think he’s hungry,” Calhoun said.

  “Well, boys, time for me to go do the hero thing. Let it be known to all survivors of the fort that I went out like a warrior!” Rune grinned toothily and got onto his bike.

  “What are you going to do?” Jason asked, his eyes huge with fear.

  Rune shifted his bag around so he could grab the grenades easily. “Not sure yet, but it’s gonna be wild.”

  He gunned the Harley and sped toward the zombie.

  Jack began to bark fiercely as ten more zombies crested the barrier.

  Then twenty more.

  The lone biker aimed his bike at a piece of sloping ro
of that made a perfect ramp. As he accelerated, he shouted, “Time to rock and roll!” The bike flew over the barrier, vanishing from sight.

  The zombies disappeared from view as they followed him.

  * * *

  In the communication center, Yolanda was listening to the various groups check in from all over the fort. She marked off each numbered group on her list, her full lips pursed slightly.

  Her reaction to Peggy’s suicide was complex. Peggy had become a friend, so Yolanda wanted to feel sad about her death, but for her to leave them in the lurch like this pissed her off. Yolanda was supposed to be up on the wall with Lenore, manning one of the huge crossbows, but instead, here she was, trapped in the windowless communication center. She knew that what she was doing was important, but she wanted to be outside, where the action was.

  As she wrote, she tried not to notice her stubby fingernails, coated with bright red polish. Last night, she and most of the fort’s other black women had had a kind of party. They’d cut their fingernails short and braided their hair. It had been harder to do than Yolanda expected. It might have seemed silly to some, but having fancy nails and hair made Yolanda feel connected to her old life. But she and the others had snagged and broken their nails during target practice, and flowing hair could be dangerous if the zombies managed to breach the walls. They’d made a night of it and spent hours talking and laughing, trying to scare away their fears.

  Rune’s voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Yoli, gotta create a distraction.”

  “What are you talking about?” Yolanda snapped at him. “You’re supposed to be—”

  He laughed, cutting her off. “Say boom, baby.”

  A second later, she heard a faint explosion in the distance, just as Travis and Reverend Thomas entered the room.

  She turned to them in indignation. “That crazy-ass, long-haired biker boy is off doing something stupid,” she said.

  The tall man’s eyebrows shot up. “Rune, what the hell are you doing?” Travis said into the mic.

  “Getting the zombies away from the kid and Cal.” They heard an explosion through the radio. “Don’t worry about me. I got my bike and a bag of grenades.”

  On another channel, Nerit said, “Rune is drawing the zombies away from the fire line. He’s lobbing grenades into the group following him.”

  “He just called in,” Travis told Nerit. “How do you think he’s doing?”

  “Looks good so far,” Nerit answered. “It’s a smaller group. The main horde isn’t here yet.”

  “He’s a brave man,” the reverend decided.

  “More like damn crazy.” Yolanda couldn’t believe the gall of the white-haired biker.

  “We’re going to say a few words before they breach the fire line,” Travis said to Nerit. “Keep an eye on Calhoun and Jason. Pull them back if the zombies get too close.”

  “Understood,” came the reply.

  “Yolanda, open up the speakers,” Travis instructed. “I need to speak to the fort.”

  * * *

  Travis’s hand was so sweaty that he almost dropped the microphone. As he tightened his grasp, for the first time, Travis acknowledged to himself just how frightened he was. He’d lived with low-grade paranoia and fear for so long that he barely noticed those feelings most of the time. Now, with an army of the dead approaching, his emotions threatened to swamp him.

  The reverend gently patted his shoulder. “You can do this, Travis.”

  Travis tried not to think of Katie on the wall. Armed with her binoculars and walkie-talkie, she was one of the spotters who would report in to the command center. He desperately wanted her to stay in the ballroom, but she just as desperately wanted to participate, and in the end, he couldn’t refuse her.

  He closed his eyes, said a silent prayer, then pressed the button and spoke.

  “‘Good morning’ seems like the wrong thing to say,” he began, hearing his voice booming from the speakers mounted throughout the fort. “I don’t think we’ve had a good morning for a damn long time. But … hell … good morning anyway.

  “If we have to fight for our lives, I guess we couldn’t ask for a prettier morning.”

  Lenore was loading one of the giant crossbows. She looked up and found that she agreed with Travis. The sky was brilliant; the sun shone through beautiful white clouds. She wished Felix and Ken were with her.

  “We can fight and win. No matter how afraid you are, remember that we’re in this together.”

  Katie smiled as her husband’s voice echoed around her. The smell of decay had grown stronger, so she pulled her kerchief over her nose. She watched the dark wave of the undead in the distance, just beyond the fire line. On this beautiful day, the ugly, decaying zombies seemed like a sacrilege.

  “I just wanted to say that y’all are my family. I’m glad to know you and I’m proud to stand with you today. And now a word from Reverend Thomas.”

  Perched on the roof of the newspaper building, Katarina smiled at the sound of the microphone being jostled around. She bent her head to the scope of her sniper rifle. The first zombie to swim into view was vile beyond belief—a large woman, half eaten, her abdomen torn open to reveal the zombie fetus inside her shredded womb, its small limbs moving. Katarina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and fired. The dead mother jerked once, then stumbled on, oblivious of the fact that the small form inside her had stopped moving.

  “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Reverend Thomas spoke smoothly, pouring gentle, healing balm on the fevered minds of the fort’s inhabitants.

  On the command center set up on the wall, Kevin looked down at the map held under heavy plastic on the table before him and took a deep breath.

  Nerit stood next to him, her face calm as she gazed out toward the oncoming horde. The dead were flowing out of the trees as they trudged toward the fort.

  Near them, Juan smiled as he ran final tests on some of the traps set outside the gates. His cowboy hat was firmly in place over his pinned-up hair.

  “Those are difficult words to embrace on a day such as this, but we must do just that. For this is the day the Lord has made for us to fight for our lives and the lives of those we love. This is our home, our fort, our safe haven.”

  Kevin moved several red markers along the map as another of Rune’s grenades exploded in the distance and his spotters reported in.

  “We have lost many friends and family members during this plague of the dead. Those we love have fallen. Some have joined the ranks of our enemies.”

  Margie leaned against her new grandmother, listening to the reverend and playing idly with her doll’s tangled hair. She thought of her old mommy and daddy and of the nice lady with the black hair who had saved them. Kissing her doll, she hugged it like Guadalupe was hugging her.

  “But we must be strong and stand firm. We must not waver in the face of evil. It may wear the face of humanity, but it is corruption. They are the enemy of life. Be strong and know that the battle you fight today is just and good in the sight of God.”

  Monica watched the zombies stumbling after Rune’s motorcycle. Beside her, Bette loaded a catapult.

  “Today we fight for our lives. We fight for the lives of our families and friends. We fight for our future. We fight for life itself. And that is a good and righteous thing.”

  * * *

  Rune grinned, feeling satisfaction as he brought the motorcycle to an abrupt halt. He’d succeeded in redirecting the first small wave of zombies, along the outside of the barrier. The big bike rumbled between his legs as he drew another grenade and whistled loudly at the zombies.

  Aggravated by his nearness, the zombies let out moans of desperate hunger. Their stench was almost overwhelming at this distance.

  “Yep, damn good day to die,” Rune said to himself, lobbing another grenade into the undead mob.

  He gunned the bike and rode away as the grenade went off with a resounding boom and peppered him with
body parts. Rune barked a laugh. The zombies shambled after him.

  * * *

  “Damn gremlins,” Calhoun growled, watching Jason.

  Jason glanced nervously over his shoulder and was relieved to see that no more zombies had passed the barricade. He hoped they were all following Rune, whose progress was marked by a series of explosions. “The gremlins probably took off when they saw Jack,” Jason said, trying to calm Calhoun. He needed the old man’s mind working on a solution, not freaking out over invisible opponents.

  “Yeah, gremlins hate dogs,” Calhoun conceded. “Good old Jack here probably got them running for the hills.”

  “Yep.” Jason tried to concentrate, his trembling fingers moving methodically through the innards of the contraption he and Calhoun had built. Fear gripped his body, and he found it hard to concentrate. For at least the ninth time, he started once again to trace each wire, trying to figure out which one was shorting.

  “Jason,” Calhoun whispered, “the clones are here.”

  Jason looked. A lone zombie had climbed over the barrier and was staggering toward them. It was so badly decayed, the teenager wasn’t sure if it was a woman or a man. Jack let out a low growl but held his position, waiting for orders.

  “It’s still far away.” Jason returned his gaze to the detonator. “Don’t shoot it, or the rest of them will come after us.”

  Calhoun drew his gun anyway. “I don’t like the idea of those things having an all-they-can-eat Calhoun buffet.”

  Jason kept working, repeatedly glancing up at the zombie, which kept coming, its movements jerky, rigid, and excruciatingly slow. Jason carefully dug deeper into the box. Jack growled again, louder, and bared his teeth. Abruptly, the creature fell backwards and lay still. Calhoun scrambled forward and gazed at the thing.

  “Right through the head! Damn! That old woman is evil!”

  Realizing a sniper—probably Katarina—had taken out the zombie, Jason blew out a breath in relief and kept working. Another explosion sounded in the distance. Jason heard a catapult creaking as it tossed a load of microwaves and TVs into the crowd of zombies approaching the fort.

  “That’s not good,” Calhoun said sharply, scuttling along the ground on his hands and knees.