“You see anything?” Natalie asks her.
“I see something,” she says.
I look over to the dense shroud of spruce trees along the mountainside. It’s too far away to see much from here, but there is definitely some kind of cabin tucked away between the trees.
“What do you see?” I ask Scout again.
“I don’t know yet,” she says. “Come on. Let’s go take a look.”
“It’s late,” I remind her.
“I know,” she says. “We’ll be quick.”
We drive off the road through a grassy meadow and park next to the lake.
“Wait here,” Scout says as she gets out of the truck.
I don’t really like it when she says that, but that doesn’t mean there is a damn thing I can do about it. I’ve learned by now to just accept it when she makes up her mind about something. Besides, I know she can handle herself out here. That gal is as tough as they come.
I had figured Scout would want to stay close to Stevie, so I didn’t even bother asking her to come back out with us. But when I told her we’d be going she made me wait for her to leave. I still suspect she might be hoping that somehow Fletcher is still out here, but I know it’s better not to bring it up.
As for me, I found it difficult to sit around in the bunker with nothing to do. When McGrath asked me to lead a team out to search for supplies and additional equipment for Claire and Doctor Schoenheim, I told him I would do it, but only on my own terms.
I didn’t want a whole team that had no experience out here. It was too likely they would all just end up dead. I got more than enough blood on my hands already.
Not that I have any regrets.
I’ve learned to live with everything that happened.
Sometimes the hero people need is not the good guy. Sometimes it’s the guy who is willing to do the killing to make sure they stay alive. I’m comfortable with that.
Hell, I even like the killing.
That might make some people afraid of me.
They should be.
Natalie pulls out one of the notebooks that belonged to Mac. I still can’t bring myself to look at it and find out what it says in there, even though she says it is brilliant.
I pull out the worn out copy of The Stand that Scout gave me. She said it might help even though I told her I don’t like books very much. This one was actually okay, though. I’m on the last few pages. It is the only time I read a book where I felt like I already sort of lived through it.
Several minutes later, I look up to check on Scout and see her walking with two women and two children. They all look thin and frail, like they have hardly eaten in weeks. Out in this remote cabin in the woods they probably couldn’t find much unless they were good at fishing.
We get out and help them all into the back of the vehicle. I look them all over real quick and then I start the engine so we can get home before sunset.
As I drive, I keep looking in the mirror. The women exchange glances but don’t say anything.
“You want some water?” I ask them.
No one answers. They just sit quietly with their arms around the kids.
“They got names?” I ask Scout.
“I don’t know,” Scout says. “I couldn’t get them to talk either.”
They must have been through hell. I can only wonder how bad it was, though.
“I’m Chase,” I tell them.
Blank stares in the backseat come back at me as the truck rumbles over the dirt road through the mountains.
I decide to give up on getting anything out of them. Some people are so rattled by what they have gone through they just sort of shut down. It takes time for them to believe that the nightmare is actually over.
We drive up to the gates and wait for the doors to open before we head down the tunnel to the entrance of the facility. We help the women and children out of the vehicle and lead them to the blast doors.
I don’t know why but bringing people back has helped me feel better. Like maybe we will be able to put everything back the way it was someday, maybe things might even be less fucked up this time around.
Blake and Danielle wait by the entrance to greet us. Danielle keeps her arms wrapped around him as he gives me an annoyed look.
“How’d it go?” Blake asks.
“Not much luck on the supplies. Found four survivors today, though” I say. “They seem pretty rattled.”
I turn around and gesture back at the group coming through the entrance behind us. One of the women pauses and stares at us. I think she might just be amazed at the facility until I turn back to look at Blake.
His face is pale and his mouth hangs open as he stares at the woman.
“What is it?” Danielle asks.
Blake lets go of Danielle and takes a step toward the woman as he blinks his eyes.
“Amanda?” he says.
I have no idea how he could know this woman, but he seems to think he does.
“Blake,” the woman whispers.
Then he moves past me and puts his arms around her and clutches her tightly as the massive blast doors close and lock all of us together inside the mountain.
About the Author
Jeremy Dyson lives for one reason; to kill zombies. Until he gets that chance, he occupies his time drinking beer, writing stories, and teaching his children not to go to the bathroom on the floor. So far he has only succeeded in two of those endeavors.
After studying at the University of Iowa, Jeremy moved back home to Illinois, worked on a farm, built websites, made lattes, wrote how-to articles, and took dogs for walks before deciding he should probably do something different. About a year later, his debut novel, Rise of the Dead, was released. The rest is history. His writing influences are J.D. Salinger, Cormac McCarthy, Ernest Hemingway, Raymond Carver and the late, great George Romero.
He currently resides in the cozy town of Crystal Lake, Illinois with his wife, two daughters, a pair of scruffy, stinky dogs, and his best friend, Jason Voorhees.
Okay, I just made that last part up.
For more information visit: http://www.jeremydyson.com
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Acknowledgements
This book would not have been possible without the support of my family, and especially my wife and editor. Thanks to Dominique Anders, the best creative coach in the biz, for being real and dropping the occasional truth bomb. Special thanks to my beta readers, Roseann Powell and Erin Braden for helping to make this story even better. And many thanks to all of my readers that have been patient and supportive in waiting for this series to unfold. Because of all of you, there will be many more stories soon to come.
Books By Jeremy Dyson
ROTD Series
Rise Of The Dead
Return Of The Dead
Rage Of The Dead
ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead Page 27
