The Undead Survivor Series | Book 1 | Guns, Rations, Rigs & The Undead

by Radke, K. E.

  “Jesus Christ,” Lincoln muttered turning his head away from her with irritation.

  “I’ll say hi to him for you.”

  “That’s not where you’re going if you die in my house.”

  “Says the grumpy old man refusing a dying woman’s last wish.”

  “A dying woman’s last wish that requires her to be in close quarters when she decides to lose her mind and eat everyone within reach,” Lincoln lucidly pointed out the insanity in her plan.

  “I see you’ve made your decision. Better hit me in the right spot,” she closed her eyes, ready to be shot in the head.

  “You’re fucking is insane! I saved your daughter and your husband!” Lincoln began, “the least you could do is die somewhere else.”

  “I’m asking you to save her again,” Phoebe lifted her head off the ground to peer at Lincoln pleading with her soul. “I’m asking you to save them both. Please.”

  “No you’re asking me to die along with you. Look around,” he gestured with his hands. “You really think I’m going to change my mind?” He aimed the gun. “Last chance.”

  “I have a journal.”

  Lincoln held the gun on her, his pointer finger next to the trigger.

  “I’ve written down every detail since I saw the first symptom this afternoon. The gray fingers and toes, the numbness. The hunger and black veins. I think the blood stops flowing to the extremities and that’s why they change color. My body temperature is slowly dropping,” she was talking too fast, but it was her last bargaining chip. And she could tell he was fascinated by the information.

  Lincoln’s pointer finger tapped the side of the gun. Clenching his teeth, he placed his finger over the trigger and then took it off. She closed her eyes, and kept them shut as a tear escaped down her face. Lincoln put his arm down, grumbling about women and then he started chuckling to himself. His shoulders actually shook because he was laughing so hard, tears were beginning to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

  “I’ve prepped for this exact moment almost my whole life. This exact moment in time,” Lincoln told her. “And now I’m going to die. Because this is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever agreed to. For all I know you’ve already given it to Wyatt and Melanie and we’re all about to die.”

  Phoebe sat up, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou. You can tie me up. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “You will drive in the hybrid separately from us. You will always stand in the front. And you will tell Wyatt we’re leaving as soon as it gets dark—and that you’re coming with us.”

  “You cannot tell him,” she said at last. “You have to promise me you won’t tell him.”

  “Phoebe. Get the fuck. Out of my house.”

  “You cannot tell him Lincoln,” Phoebe raised her voice in urgency, eyes widening by the second.

  “I will put my hands on you to push you out of my house,” Lincoln warned getting to his feet.

  “You cannot tell him Lincoln! Promise me.”

  “Ok,” Lincoln’s patience was gone and without another word he searched for gloves in a drawer and put them on. Moving forward he tried to be intimidating to get her moving on her own but she did not budge. He ignored every word coming out of her mouth tossing her over his shoulder in one quick swoop and carried her to the front door opening it. All the while she kept yelling. Once she was outside flushed scarlet from anger and being upside down, she said calmly on his porch before he shut the door completely in her face, “If you tell him—when it’s time for me to die—I don’t want him to try and stop me.”

  “Everyone knows,” Lincoln held the door open a crack so his words could be heard, “the only way a good husband willingly sacrifices his wife’s life—is if he truly believes she will survive the task at hand.”

  Twenty Five

  T he ringing in Lincoln’s ears sounded a lot like a clock after he threw Phoebe out. He felt like he had a live grenade in his pocket with his hands tied behind his back and tape over his mouth. Counting the seconds of how much time he thought he had left but never really knowing the answer. The anticipation killing him slowly while he waited for his inevitable death.

  Seconds ticked in his ear as he tried to focus on rechecking the supplies in their bug out bags making sure they had everything. Pressure built in his head and he growled at the headache he couldn’t avoid. Another bag was pulled from his stockpile because he realized the girls would need one. Rummaging through everything leftover he duplicated the items for the girls making sure it didn’t get too heavy. He figured one bag would be good enough between the two of them and they could take turns holding it.

  Double checking the new supply bag, Lincoln was only missing clothes. A task he thought he could take care of when he got back. Not wasting another second, he got up and rushed to Wyatt’s house.

  He tried to keep his nervous feet still as he knocked softly hoping Phoebe wouldn’t be the one to answer the door. As soon as Wyatt greeted him, he put a finger to his lips and had Wyatt join him outside, “I need your help.” Refusing to look Wyatt in the eye he shifted his gaze to Wyatt’s fingers checking them for discoloration.

  “Now is not a good time. Phoebe has convinced herself that she’s coming with us and is trying to pack a bag,” Wyatt disclosed the information and then his face lit up in relief. “Maybe you can help me convince her—.”

  “How are you feeling?” Lincoln interrupted him trying to be inconspicuous about examining him.

  “I’m freaking out because Phoebe seriously thinks she’s coming. Did I mention she wants to bring Mel too? Which means Charlotte will have to come. It’ll be like one big family road trip,” Wyatt pointed out trying to bring Lincoln in on his argument with Phoebe.

  Changing the subject Lincoln interjected, “I made a promise to Charlotte about getting her some clothes.”

  “Oh, you want to borrow something of Melanie’s?”

  “No, I want to get her own clothes and maybe a picture of her family. Something that she can hang onto,” Lincoln stopped himself from finishing the sentence with ‘to make her happy’.

  “That would mean going inside her house.”

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt thought the problem would be obvious but he said it out loud for Lincoln’s benefit, “Didn’t she say Camille and Michael are still in there?”

  “Yes. And I promised I wouldn’t kill them.”

  “That’s a dangerous bet. A risk you don’t need to take.”

  The clock in Lincoln’s ear was getting louder as he stood there trying to convince Wyatt, “Will you help or not?”

  Wyatt sighed giving in, “Fine. Come get me when you’re ready.”

  “I’ve never been in their house. Does Melanie know where her room is? Maybe she can draw us a map.”

  “I know where her room is, she played over there all the time.”

  “Really? I got the vibe that you guys didn’t get along,” Lincoln said surprised.

  “From who?”

  “Camille.”

  “What did she say?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  “Time to go,” Lincoln walked off the porch hightailing it over Wyatt’s driveway toward Charlotte’s house.

  “Right now?!” Wyatt called over his yard.

  “You said whenever I was ready,” Lincoln peered over his shoulder. “Do you think I wear this to make a fashion statement?”

  Wyatt only saw one extra gun on Lincoln’s hip, everything else appeared to be what he wore on a daily basis. “Let me grab my gun.”

  “I have one for you. Come on, we should be in and out. By the way Wyatt, that’s how you talk to another man privately.”

  Lincoln didn’t bother glancing back to see if he was following. He could hear Wyatt’s footsteps quicken in order to catch up. On the way, he told Wyatt the little tidbits he could remember that Camille mentioned about the perfect couple.

  Wyatt was furious by the time they reached the enclosed patio around the back. One of the neighbors was proba
bly watching them, but Lincoln didn’t have time to worry about being stealthy. The phantom grenade was weighing heavily in his pocket.

  He pulled out two paper masks to cover their noses and mouths, handing one to Wyatt. Lincoln tried the patio door finding it still locked. He kicked it out of frustration and the netting on the screen door flapped inward, the hole big enough for a small child to squeeze through. Using the small rip in the netting, Lincoln pushed it aside stretching his arm up to unlock the door.

  “Are you sure you want to risk it?” Wyatt asked under his mask. “I’m sure we can find her more clothes somewhere else.”

  “Then focus on getting a picture of the family while I grab the clothes.”

  “Did you bring a bag for the clothes?”

  Lincoln paused cursing under his breath, “We’ll get a trash bag from inside.” They stopped right in front of the backdoor and Lincoln handed his H&K VP9 to Wyatt. “The things I told you Camille said…are you still angry about it?”

  “I’ll try not to hurt your girlfriend,” Wyatt said exasperated.

  “I made a promise I wouldn’t kill her parents.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “That’s why you’re going to have to do it,” Lincoln cautioned twisting the knob and pushing the door open before Wyatt tried to argue the point. He quickly moved to the side out of visibility. Wyatt stood in front of the open doorway for a second before following his lead on the other side of the door.

  “Did you see anything?” Lincoln whispered.

  “Asshole, next time do a countdown or give a warning,” Wyatt whispered harshly.

  “Did you lie to me on the way here so I would get mad at Camille and kill her for you?!”

  “Do you want to kill her now?”

  “I don’t feel as bad as I did before about it.”

  “That’s good to know, if it comes down to me or her.”

  “This is the stupidest idea ever.”

  The odor coming out of the house was appalling. Lincoln imagined a landfill smelled better. He started to breathe out of his mouth trying to keep his eyes from watering as the aroma assaulted his senses. One quick peek showed no one in the open living area that shared space with the kitchen. A large hallway was straight ahead where Lincoln could clearly see the foyer. Ready to get it over with he stepped inside and went straight to the cabinets in the kitchen to search for a trash bag.

  Wyatt followed him into the kitchen only to be waved away.

  Lincoln whispered harshly, “Go look for the pictures!”

  Narrowing his eyes and grumbling under his breath, Wyatt tiptoed through the hallway, and passed the staircase. He disappeared around the corner into the familiar family room on the right. Camille kept several family pictures in there and Wyatt started pulling them off the walls and stacking them on top of each other a little harder than he intended.

  In the kitchen, Lincoln found a box of trash bags under the sink and took the entire thing. Silently moving to the hallway, he peered around the side first trying to find Wyatt.

  “Wyatt!” Lincoln whispered. “I need to know where Charlotte’s room is.”

  He slowly paced himself down the hallway not able to see what rooms were on either side of the foyer or up the staircase. Automatically pulling a knife out of its sheath Lincoln had no problem cutting any fingers reaching for him or shoving the knife in their cheek to keep them from biting him. Halfway down the corridor Lincoln took a step back listening to the pounding footsteps coming his way.

  Sprinting across the foyer, Wyatt raced straight past Lincoln without noticing him and vanished into the room on the left. Another set of footsteps caught his attention and he froze as a set of snapping jaws tottered forward clearly following Wyatt. Not moving an inch, what was left of Michael didn’t notice Lincoln standing completely still in the middle of the hallway.

  Once it was out of sight, Lincoln moved forward cautiously peering from the entrance of the dining room and watched Wyatt maneuver around the dark stained, dining table. Lincoln fell into step with him when he came back around, “Are you going to shoot him or run around the table all day playing tag?”

  “I know you didn’t like him, but he was my friend. Just give me a minute.”

  “I don’t just hand out guns. It’s intended for a specific use,” Lincoln was getting anxious because while they could keep up the pace all day with Michael going around the table—Camille was bound to show up. And there was only one way in and out of the dining room.

  Near the exit Lincoln decided to leave Wyatt with Michael and search for Charlotte’s room on his own almost stepping into the second set of snapping jaws. He quickly recovered his footing and stepped back into the dining room, trapped with Michael behind him and Camille in front.

  “How the hell did I get backed into a corner when I gave you a gun?!” Lincoln shouted lifting the knife in his hand. Dropping the trash bags on the table, he pulled the second knife from his belt and was ready to slash at the first set of hands to reach out. Dark, prominent veins swarmed up their necks and over their limbs. Neither one of them had a spot of dried blood on them. Skin was taut and clothes hung loose from their lack of food.

  Trying to figure out which one was the immediate threat, Wyatt’s outstretched arms moved from right to left.

  “If I die because you can’t make a decision I’m going to be pissed,” Lincoln growled across the room.

  Wyatt fired at Camille first, splintering the right side of her jaw. Teeth exploded out of her mouth and the ones knocked loose fell when she tried to snap her jaw together. Raising his arms a little higher, he tried to keep calm as she pushed forward. He fired again taking off the top of her head.

  Lincoln had stabbed Michael’s hand embedding it into the wall. It distracted Michael long enough to allow Lincoln to shove the second knife in his cheek. Every time the ghoul chomped down he was slicing through his own head. Lincoln was still fighting him off when Wyatt pulled the trigger again. He watched Michael slump to the floor with a puddle of blood forming below him.

  Breathing heavily Lincoln chastised, “She was four feet away how the fuck did you miss?”

  “I’ve known her for years! Our kids played together. How are you not upset?!”

  “Because that’s not Camille. Did you find a picture?” he asked freeing his knifes from Michael’s body and claiming the box of trash bags on the table.

  Photos slipped out of Wyatt’s pocket and he held them up triumphantly. Staying vigilant, they made their way to Charlotte’s room and started dumping clothes in the trash bag.

  Twenty Six

  L incoln grumbled under his breath with annoyance every time he passed the arguing couple in his hallway. He was only giving them the amount of time it took to load up his car and then they were all leaving. Charlotte was already buckled inside with the Kershaw knife attached to her belt.

  “Tell her no Lincoln,” Wyatt said with a steel tone as Lincoln came in from the garage to get another bag from his storage room. It was the first time Lincoln had ever seen him truly claim the balls dangling between his legs.

  Raising his eyebrows in silent admiration, Lincoln stopped and opened his mouth, “I think it’s a good idea.”

  “You see he thinks it’s a good idea that you stay,” Wyatt said matter of fact at the same time Lincoln disagreed with the words, “That she comes.”

  Wyatt snapped his head in Lincoln’s direction following his every move while he disappeared into the room bringing out another bag to load in the SUV. Leaving Phoebe’s side he stomped up to Lincoln and grabbed the front of his shirt. They were nose to nose. “Do not fuck with me right now,” his voice was low as he peered into Lincoln’s eyes. “You want to bring a woman and child. With us. To the city.”

  Lincoln’s gaze never faltered from Wyatt’s, and he didn’t brush Wyatt’s hand from his shirt or pull away from the man because if Lincoln wanted peace and quiet—if he wanted them to shut the fuck up—Wyatt needed to be one hundred percent sure that L
incoln’s answer wasn’t bullshit. Dropping the bag on the floor, Lincoln flexed his fingers by his sides. It took every ounce of his patience not to sock Wyatt in the face.

  “You a fan of horror movies Wyatt?” Lincoln asked him calmly, standing extremely still to keep his temper under control.

  “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Wyatt loosened his grip on Lincoln’s shirt but didn’t let it go entirely.

  “Was there ever a good outcome when people split up in the horror movies?”

  Confused, Wyatt shook his head in disbelief, “You want to bring my wife and child on a run to the city. Where people die and come back to life to eat us?”

  “No, I don’t really care what you do. But I do know that she’s capable of driving your car and following us whether you allow it or not. And she’s pretty determined to come. I’d like you both to shut the fuck up now because I’m getting a headache from the pissing match. So I suggest you load up extra food and gear,” Lincoln’s eyes cut to Melanie standing against the wall trying to blend in while her parents fought. He whistled to get her attention, “Mel you ride with Charlotte. So you can talk girl to each other.”

  Wyatt uncurled his hands and released Lincoln’s shirt. Melanie happily hopped inside of Lincoln’s car. A look of relief crossed Phoebe’s face as she mouthed thank you to Lincoln because it would have been another battle to convince Wyatt that he and Melanie should ride with him instead of her.

  “And you,” Lincoln said quietly to Wyatt. “Will not leave me in the car with two girls by myself.”

  “Phoebe can’t drive by herself!”

  “It’s two hours Wyatt, and no offense, but I really don’t want to be stuck in an enclosed space with you for that long right now,” she said furiously stomping away.

  “I am very offended!” Wyatt yelled after her. “She’s mad at me for trying to keep her safe!?” he shouted incredulously glancing from her walking away to Lincoln to confirm his belief.

  Lincoln shrugged, “Women are strange creatures.”

  Moving around him, Lincoln continued to load his car until he finished and then he double checked every bag to make sure he had three, including the ham radio safely tucked inside a case. He nodded to himself in approval.