Elements of the Undead - Omnibus Edition (Books One - Three)

by William Esmont

  ***

  Ryan dug deep into his backpack, frantically searching for the nylon bag he knew had to be there. On the seat beside him, Paige sobbed uncontrollably. Her entire body shook as if she were being electrified. Her eyes were squeezed shut; her hair was plastered against her scalp. She howled, a warbling, guttural, animal moan that made his blood run cold.

  His fingers closed around the overstuffed bag full of pill bottles, and he yanked it free. “Got it!” He unzipped the bag and upended it, dumping the contents on the seat between them. She chose that exact moment to kick out with her left foot, sending the bottles scattering to the floor.

  Ryan howled. “Fuck!”

  He turned to Luke, “Hold onto your mother, God damn it!”

  With a terrified expression, Luke reached over the seat and wrapped his arms around his mother’s torso. Paige thrashed against his grip and tore loose. A second later, Archie lunged over the seat and took hold of Paige’s legs and feet. With his help, they subdued her.

  Keeping an eye on Paige’s feet, Ryan reached down to the floor and scooped up a handful of the opaque orange pill bottles. He inspected the labels, squinting to read the small print: Percocet. Tylenol. Ibuprofen. Cipro.

  “Damn it! It’s not here!” He tossed the bottles on the seat and reached down again, grabbing another handful. Vicodin. Ibuprofen - again. Fuck! Amoxicillin. And there it was. Valium, 8mg. He shook the bottle and heard a healthy rattle, then twisted the cap and knocked out two pills.

  Archie yelled, “Whatever you need to give her, hurry up about it!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Megan staring at him, open-mouthed, frozen in her seat. He felt the truck swing to the right and heard the engine began to labor as they initiated the ascent up Transmountain Road.

  He closed his hand around the pills and scooted across the seat toward Paige. She let out a blood-curdling shriek. Ryan cringed at the noise. Paige twisted violently and almost broke free again before Luke caught her arm and bore down on it with all of his one hundred and twenty pounds. He stared at Ryan with a caustic mix of desperation and fear.

  “It’s going to be okay, honey,” Ryan told Paige in his most soothing voice. She sobbed and thrashed with frightening intensity. Ryan hated himself for saying everything would be okay. For lying. Nothing was further from the truth. This episode, by no means her first, was orders of magnitude worse than any of the previous ones, even worse than when they had first descended into the bunker. That time, it had taken three weeks and a good portion of their supply of antidepressants to bring her back to the world of the living. He had told Luke his mother was sick, that she would get better if she took her medicine. He didn’t intend it as a lie, but in hindsight, that was exactly what it had been.

  Paige hadn’t gotten any better. Instead, Ryan had learned to manage her medication and live with her symptoms. He had been proud of himself when he’d weaned her from her daily pill regimen several months earlier.

  He wished he knew what had set her off, why after the hell of escaping Arivaca, she had waited until that moment to lose her mind. If he could figure it out, he could maybe do something for her.

  Or maybe not. His supply of pills was dangerously low. He had enough antidepressants for a couple of months of daily usage. After that, he would have to find more, and odds were, anything he found would be damaged or past its expiration, or both. Still, he had to try. But first, he had to get the pills in his palm into Paige’s mouth.

  Contorting himself so he could reach her head, he moved closer, leaning across her body as if making love to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and gasped at the tightly wound muscles twitching spasmodically beneath her blouse. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if he couldn’t calm her down, of the near-superhuman energy coursing through her body.

  Trying to be gentle yet forceful, he placed one hand on her forehead. It was greasy with sweat. He spread his fingers, ensuring he had a good grip.

  Paige opened her eyes and screamed, her words unintelligible, ripped straight from the echo chamber of her broken mind. Her face twisted into a vicious scowl, and she redoubled her efforts to break loose. She bucked and almost threw him off.

  Ryan screamed, “Hold her down!”

  The truck downshifted with a loud thunk. The engine roared. Ryan didn’t care. His focus was on Paige. Placing his other hand on her jaw, he worked his fingers to her mouth, inside her lips, and began to pry open her jaws. A sickening vision of Paige’s teeth snapping closed on his fingers flashed through his mind.

  He yanked his hand back and was immediately ashamed at his fear of his own wife. Fuck. He tried again. He got his fingers into her mouth. She didn’t bite, but she wouldn’t open wide enough either. Ryan was stumped. He was so close, yet so far. Then a tanned arm covered with faded tattoos reached between him and Paige. Before Ryan knew what was happening, Archie had pinched her nose shut. Paige thrashed at the sudden lack of oxygen, then her mouth popped open, and she sucked in a great gulp of air.

  Ryan mashed his palm against Paige’s mouth, sending the pills tumbling into her throat. “Okay!”

  Archie removed his fingers and Paige’s mouth snapped shut. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

  “Are they in?” Archie asked.

  Ryan watched Paige’s mouth for any signs she was about to spit out the pills. “I think so.”

  The truck leveled out for a second and then started to go downhill. The engine RPMs increased. Meanwhile, Paige continued to struggle.

  Ryan collapsed on top of her, substituting his own weight for Luke’s and Archie’s, allowing them to sit back again. It would take a few minutes for the drug to take effect, and until then, his best hope was to keep her immobilized.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, and before he could stop himself, he was weeping like a child.

  Fifteen

  150 Miles East of El Paso

  Near Dusk

  Jack yawned and scratched his ear. “It’ll be dark soon. We should stop for the night.”

  His voice jolted Megan from the trance she had been in ever since leaving the eastern outskirts of El Paso.

  She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms. “Are you sure?”

  Jack nodded. “There’s hardly going to be any moon tonight. We don’t know what the road is like ahead. There could’ve been floods, wrecks, sand, who knows?”

  Megan suppressed the urge to remind him that someone else could take the wheel. Her better judgment won out, though. Jack’s reasons for avoiding nighttime travel were grounded in deep personal tragedy and were part of what had made him who he was. On a moonless night three years before, he had lost his wife and the second of his twin daughters in a freak accident outside of Albuquerque. Ever since then, he had done everything in his power to avoid traveling after night fell.

  Giving him a soft pat on the knee, she twisted to face the rear. “We’re going to stop soon.”

  Ryan gave her a tired nod. “Okay.”

  Paige, Megan saw, lay with her head in his lap, her eyes open and glassy, her mind temporarily thrown into neutral by whatever medication Ryan had force-fed her outside of El Paso.

  She gestured at Paige with her eyes. “How’s she doing?”

  Ryan stroked his wife’s hair, tucking an errant lock behind her ear. When he spoke, his voice was barely a croak. “We’ll see.”

  Gravel crunched and popped as Jack slowed the truck and drifted onto the shoulder. They came to a smooth stop, and he killed the engine.

  After a quick scan of their surroundings, Megan pushed open the door and climbed out, relieved to not be moving for the first time all day. The sun hung low on the western horizon, its bottom edge barely a palm’s width above the mountains. They had a half-hour at most before it disappeared completely, leaving them marooned in the inky expanse of the west-Texas desert.

  Archie climbed out and hopped to the ground beside her. He carried a stack of MREs, or Meals Ready to Eat, tucked under one arm.


  Megan’s eyes grew large. “Where’d you get those?”

  Archie cast a glance over his shoulder and nodded at Ryan. “Back of the Suburban. Ryan’s got a stash.” He handed two packets to Megan. “These are for you and Jack.”

  Megan thanked him. With all the excitement, the thought of food hadn’t crossed her mind all afternoon, but once it was in front of her, her stomach gave an angry growl of protest. She held up the plastic packages and read the labels. “Meatloaf.” She shot Archie a sardonic grin. “Good thing we’re not vegetarians.”

  Archie gave a hearty laugh and checked his own MRE. “Luck of the draw,” he said. “I’ve got cheese tortellini. Wanna switch?”

  Megan waved him off. “Not on your life. I haven’t had meatloaf in years.”

  With a laugh, Archie walked off in search of a comfortable place to eat.

  A creeping sense of dread blossomed in Megan’s gut. Food was going to be a real problem in the coming days. The Franklins certainly hadn’t anticipated feeding six people, and their supplies wouldn’t last long, no matter how carefully they rationed. Aside from the MREs, Jack had a small stash of jerky squirreled away in the bottom of his pack for emergencies. Maybe in the next town they could hit a grocery store and stock up on canned food.

  Her thoughts turned to El Paso and the horrors they had witnessed during their transit. The blast and heat damage from the nukes had been far more extensive on the eastern side of town than the west. The vehicles littering the freeway there had all burned, leaving behind a nearly impenetrable obstacle course that slowed their progress by at least half. Jack speculated the mountains had shielded the western edge of the interstate from the brunt of the explosion. That seemed as good a theory as any, and at that point, it was academic, as she had no intention of ever returning to El Paso.

  On three separate occasions, the sheer density of melted and mangled wreckage had forced them to detour onto surface streets, where to their dismay, they found the conditions only marginally better than on the freeway. Desiccated scraps of human remains littered the landscape, some bearing the distinct markings of having been ravaged by the undead, while others were curled into blackened and charred husks only identifiable as human remains by the occasional glimpse of yellowed bone poking through leathery flesh. Those, Jack said, were probably victims of the initial blast, unlucky souls consumed in the firestorm that had swept across the region. They passed small pockets of undead along the way, but none as large and organized as what they had encountered on the far side of town.

  Once the initial shock of the devastation wore off, Megan’s concern shifted to the radiation levels. She had no way of knowing how much remained, or how much they were absorbing during their glacial passage through the blackened wasteland. In her mind, dying of radiation poisoning was one of the only things worse than being eaten alive by a zombie. At least with a zombie attack, the pain was over quickly. However, there was nothing she could do other than hunker down and wait it out, while trying not to think about the invisible poisons coursing through her body. Soon enough, they reached the end of the traffic jam, and the freeway opened up again. With a relieved sigh, Jack jammed the gas pedal to the floor, and they roared away from the horrors of El Paso.

  Megan sauntered over to where Jack sat on a low, flat boulder on the side of the road. “Check it out.” She held up the MREs. “Meatloaf.”

  A genuine smile blossomed on his face. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Ryan’s got a stash in the back of the Suburban. He said he’d share.”

  Jack made room for her on the boulder. “Then, what are we waiting for?”

  Sixteen

  150 Miles East of El Paso

  Later

  “Dad?”

  The word, spoken at barely a whisper, sliced through the filmy haze of Ryan’s exhaustion, bringing him instantly awake. He opened his eyes a crack and turned his head toward Luke.

  “What is it?”

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. Why always in the middle of the night? “Can’t you hold it until morning?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

  Through the gloom, he saw Luke give a vigorous shake of his head.

  Ryan closed his eyes and lamented on how close he had been to finally falling asleep. “Okay,” he said, shifting and moving Paige from his shoulder.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and she sat up straight. “What—”

  “Bathroom,” Ryan murmured. “Do you need to go?”

  Her words came slow, as if each one took a monumental effort. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “We’ll all go, then,” Ryan said. “But we need to be quiet. I don’t want to wake the others.”

  He got to his feet and made his way to the door, walking with a stoop so he didn’t bump his head against the ceiling. Paige followed close behind, weaving from the effects of the pills. Ryan helped her from the truck and set her gently on the ground. Luke came last, hopping to the ground with a grunt. Once they were all outside, Ryan closed the door, making sure it latched securely.

  Paige crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “It’s so cold…”

  Ryan cursed himself for not thinking of a jacket. The narcotic was probably making her cold. “We’ll be quick.” He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and said, “Stay with your mother. I’m going to make sure we’re alone.”

  Luke nodded. “Just hurry. I really have to go.”

  “I will.” Ryan jogged around the vehicle, searching for signs of the undead. Finding none, he gave the all clear. He put his hand on the small of Paige’s back and guided her to a spot a few feet from the rear of the truck where she could have some privacy, yet he could keep an eye on her. “Luke and I will be right over there,” he said, pointing at a nearby clump of brush.

  Paige gave a meek nod.

  Luke was hopping from foot to foot, impatient to get on with his business. Ryan shooed him toward the brush line.

  Ryan unzipped his fly as he walked. He didn’t have to pee, but he wanted to try anyway, so he wouldn’t have to get up again later. He glanced over his shoulder and watched Paige unbuckle her pants and squat. She was facing the other direction, and from the faint sound of liquid spattering against dirt, he could tell she was having no trouble relieving herself.

  Ryan returned his attention to his own business. Pulling himself out, he shivered at the sting of cold air on exposed flesh. He closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and willed the urine to flow.

  Paige’s shriek cut through the night like a raging fire engine. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat and adrenaline surged into his bloodstream. He spun around, stuffing himself back into his pants with one hand and drawing his Ruger with the other. Two figures were staggering across the freeway, on an intercept course with the truck.

  “Shit! Zombies!” He grabbed Luke and shoved him toward safety. “Get inside!”

  Visions of the showdown in Arivaca flooded his mind: the seemingly endless attack, Jim, the hopelessness he had felt when the undead had surrounded him. He took off at a sprint, intent on beating the zombies to the truck.

  The zombies were fast, but Ryan was faster. He intercepted them ten yards from the Suburban. Both were men, one thin and spindly, and the other hulking, but almost comical with no arms. Ryan didn’t give them a chance to get any closer. His gun coughed twice, and the creatures dropped in their tracks, becoming two more indistinct lumps in the night.

  He turned to find Paige, but she was gone.

  “Paige? Where are you?” Cocking his head, he listened for sounds of his wife in the cool, still air. Nothing. “Paige?” he called again, a little louder, almost a yell.

  Again, no response.

  He did a quick circuit of the SUV. Paige was nowhere to be found. Taking a slow, deep breath, he tried to calm his racing heart. She wouldn’t have ventured far from the safety of the truck, not without himself or Luke by her side.

  Yet she had.

  �
�Where’s Mom?” Luke asked from his perch on the running board.

  Ryan went to him. “I don’t know. I think…” He wasn’t sure what he thought.

  Doors opened on the truck, and Ryan heard the excited murmur of voices as news of the attack spread. One by one, the others joined him and Luke. Archie brought a flashlight and played it over the desert landscape.

  On impulse, Ryan wrenched the light from the old man’s grasp. “Wait here,” he commanded, taking off at a sprint and plunging down the nearest embankment.

  There were a million places Paige could have gone, a million directions in which she could have run. Throwing caution to the wind, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted her name. A few seconds passed with no response, and he tried again.

  Following what appeared to be a faint path, he jogged deeper into the desert and repeated the process. After a few minutes, he stopped and looked around. He couldn’t see the truck anymore. He debated turning back, but he discarded the idea and pressed on.

  He stopped short a few minutes later when he detected a drastic change in the landscape ahead. He took a few cautious steps and found himself standing at the ragged edge of a steep cliff. Darkness stretched away to infinity, the canyon swallowing the horizon whole. Shining the flashlight into the void, Ryan probed for the bottom of the chasm. A nauseating wave of vertigo slithered through this belly when the light finally touched solid ground. He took an involuntary step back. The bottom was at least eighty to a hundred feet down, perhaps more. Screwing up his courage, he returned to the edge and played the light around again, searching for what he already knew he would find.

  Tracing back from the floor of the canyon, to the near wall, he caught a glimpse of a rag doll figure, broken and bloodied, pulverized by sharp fingers of rock reaching from below.

  Paige.

  Footsteps approached behind him. Seconds later, Megan and Jack burst through the last of the brush and skidded to a stop beside him.