Refuge From The Dead | Book 3 | Dead Fall

by Masters, A. L.

  This time, he rolled the radio up in his large bandana and secured it tightly to his leg. His pants would cover it perfectly, and it was much more secure now.

  He left the small bathroom and went back to stand in line for lunch.

  Lunch today consisted of chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and a side of beans. As he went through the line, he looked around for John. He found him ladling gravy today.

  Should he warn John? Maybe try to get him out?

  In the end, Ed decided against it. The biggest reason being that he could ruin the whole mission with one misplaced word or action. Another reason was simply that Ed didn’t know John well and what he did know, he didn’t really care for.

  He knew that John had left them all without a word at the store, just as everything was going bad. He didn’t know if John had anything to do with those people locked in the back of that semi-trailer either, the ones who had turned. Perhaps he had killed them and left them there.

  So, Ed just passed by John with a nod. Perhaps John would gain his freedom soon, perhaps not.

  At the end of the line, he passed by Barnes. He decided to have a quick word with her.

  “Hello there, Barnes,” he said affably.

  She just stared at him a moment with her eyebrows raised in question and a little bit of astonishment.

  “Is there something you needed?” she asked, somewhat harshly.

  “Nope, just wanted to say howdy. I got to pick beans today, so if you had anything to do with that then you have my thanks.” He nodded in her direction and turned to go to the table with the others.

  “Come with me,” she ordered before he walked off.

  He followed her. She nodded at the guard nearby and he let them through. She led him into the back of the cafeteria. As the passed the food line, she gave him a little extra mashed potatoes and chicken.

  They went into the kitchen, and she pulled a small carton of milk from the refrigerator and a couple of rolls from a freshly baked pan of them.

  “Sit,” she said, pointing to a small stainless-steel table with stools around it.

  He sat and she sat across from him. She gave him the milk and a roll.

  “Now. Tell me why you’re talking to me so much,” she commanded.

  He took a bite of his chicken, dipping it into his mashed potatoes and gravy. When he finished chewing, he answered. “Just being friendly is all,” he said.

  “Is that so?” she said, frowning at him.

  “Yep. It never hurts to be nice to people. It doesn’t cost a thing. I treat folks the way I want to be treated until they give me a reason to do otherwise.”

  “Did you know that I’ve been here since Week One, and nobody has ever been genuinely nice to me. They are either scared of me, or they don’t say anything at all beyond what they have to.”

  “How did you get your job?” he asked her.

  “You mean being in charge of the cafeteria?” she clarified.

  “Yes.”

  “I was a lunch lady before all this. Actually, I was in charge of a school cafeteria. When I was brought in here with some other people, the warden put me in charge of the cafeteria. It was the day after all the prisoners here were executed on his order, so I didn’t feel that it would be a smart thing to say no.” She bit off a piece of her roll, probably reliving her first weeks here.

  “And so, you do your job. I suppose folks here think you’re in cahoots with the warden?” Ed asked slyly.

  “Yes. And they would be right. We are all working with the warden…if you catch my meaning. Those who don’t, don’t last long,” she said, fixing him with look full of significance of her words.

  “You could be right,” Ed only said. “Then again, you could be wrong.”

  He finished off his meal then decided on a measure of the truth.

  “There have to be others like yourself,” he said.

  She nodded. “There are. Some of the folks I came in with.”

  “Are they working here in the kitchen with you?” he asked her, probing for information.

  She gave him a very serious look, as if debating whether or not to trust him.

  “If you repeat any of this to anyone, anyone at all, I will go straight to the warden and report you. You’ll be executed like the others,” she warned.

  “I give you my word, on my late wife’s grave, that I won’t repeat anything you tell me to the warden or his men,” he said, meaning it.

  She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “One of your guards, McDaniels, is a friend of mine. We came in together. He was a cop at the school. That’s why they made him a guard here.”

  “You mean the guard who goes out to the gardens with us? With the blonde hair?” he asked, making sure he had the right one.

  “That’s him. He is a good man. He lost his wife and children back at Day One. He doesn’t care about much anymore. I know he hates the warden with a passion, but what can he do?” she shrugged.

  “Anyone else?” Ed asked.

  “There are others. Some in the laundry, and some in the maintenance department. Most of us are segregated so we can’t easily get messages across to the others. Sometimes McDaniels can. Sometimes the maintenance guys can.”

  “Is that everyone?”

  “No. I’d say half of the population here wants to take Jackson Moran out, the other half just don’t give a damn either way.”

  Ed sat back, thinking. How could they use this to their advantage?

  He couldn’t kill McDaniels tomorrow, that was for sure. Could he warn him beforehand, or would he ruin everything?

  “Would you trust McDaniels with your life?” he asked her finally.

  “Absolutely.”

  Just then the other guard burst through the doorway. They sat back in their seats, and Ed drank some milk.

  “What’s going on in here,” he asked, looking suspiciously at them both.

  “Nothing, Jones. Just talking. Can’t a gal have a nice lunch with an old friend in peace?” she asked him acerbically.

  He looked from one to the other critically before dismissing whatever notion he had.

  “It’s time to get back to work,” he said, motioning Ed out with his rifle.

  ◆◆◆

  Ed finished out the workday, thinking constantly about the radio tied to his leg and the whispered conversation with Barnes in the kitchen at lunch. There had to be a way to help these people. Maybe after Cam got him out, they could think of something.

  At the end of the day, as they were filing back into the cell block, Lonnie came out of nowhere.

  “Hey, Eddie, my man! How’s it going?” he asked genially.

  The other laborers looked at Ed with renewed suspicion.

  “It’s going. Say, when do you supposed I can go home?” he asked Lonnie, not really expecting the truth.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Ed. You know that ain’t up to me. Hell, I’d let you go home right this minute if it was. Come on now. Doc wants to see you.”

  He led Ed out into the hallway, locking the doors behind him.

  Ed was in a panic. Doc was surely going to find the radio on his leg. He would have to be a blind fool not to see it if he examined his feet. Ed couldn’t let that happen. He had to make sure.

  They walked into the infirmary and Lonnie left him on a bed.

  “Hey, Doc! Got your patient here!” he called back to the office.

  “Be right there,” came the reply.

  Lonnie crossed his arms and leaned back against a nearby wall. Ed was sweating bullets. It ran down his forehead and trickled down his back and chest. He felt nauseous. His impending doom was staring him in the face, and he hoped he was strong enough not to rat out Cam and his plan. He watched the doctor come around the corner, in no hurry at all.

  “Do you have a fever?” Doc asked, noticing Ed’s excessive perspiration.

  “No, just hot. Just came in from outside, and haven’t cooled off enough yet,” he answered.

  “Well, you better dri
nk some kind of electrolyte drink when you get back to A block,” the doctor warned. “I don’t want to have to give you an I.V. You’ll get him one, won’t you Lonnie?”

  “Oh sure. First thing when we get back,” Lonnie promised.

  Ed wasn’t so sure he was telling the truth, and right now, he didn’t really care.

  The doctor then spoke the words he dreaded.

  “Okay, sit down and let’s see those feet. Take off your socks and roll up your pants a bit.”

  “My feet are fine, really. I don’t need a checkup. In fact, I’d like to go get a nap in before supper if we’re done here,” Ed said.

  “I need to check and make sure they’re getting better. So, come on now. Remove your socks and shoes.”

  Ed sat there a moment, trying to think of a way out of this. He could feel failure barreling toward him and he couldn’t think of a thing to delay it. Lonnie stood up straight and uncrossed his arms, wondering why Ed wasn’t complying with a simple request.

  “Okay. If you insist.”

  Ed leaned over and untied his boots, placing them next to his chair. He then pulled his socks off from the bottom. It felt strange to do it that way, but if he rolled up his pants, the doctor would see his secret.

  “Put them up on this stool here, please,” Forsythe said, patting the padded stool.

  Ed did.

  Forsythe started rolling Ed’s pant leg up around his ankle, then his calf, only centimeters from the hidden radio. Suddenly, the doctor’s fingers brushed the bandana wrapped object and he stopped in surprise.

  “What’s…,” he trailed off, looking at Lonnie. “Can you go back to my office and grab me a pair of gloves? Size large please.”

  Lonnie sighed in disgust, but did as Doc had asked.

  As soon as he left the room the doctor whispered harshly. “What are you hiding? Tell me now and I won’t report it, but if they’re drugs then you need to get rid of them. If they find contraband drugs in this prison they will come after me,” he explained.

  “It’s a radio,” Ed whispered back.

  The doctor looked puzzled but nodded. “Okay.”

  He rolled Ed’s pants back down to cover the radio a few seconds before Lonnie walked back with the gloves.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Your feet look fine now. The swelling and redness have gone down a lot. How’s your medication holding out?”

  “I’m fine. Got enough to last another two weeks or so,” Ed answered.

  “Good, good. Come back in two weeks and I’ll get you another month’s worth.”

  He got up and tossed his gloves in the trash and nodded to Lon. “He’s finished.”

  On Ed’s way out, the doctor gave him a single knowing nod. It looked like there was potentially another ally here.

  “Come on friend, let’s get you back to your room now,” Lon said, gesturing for Ed to follow him.

  Ed wasn’t sure where Lonnie was going with this whole ‘friend’ bit, but he wasn’t buying it.

  He didn’t believe for one minute that Lonnie wouldn’t shoot him dead the second he was ordered to.

  He would probably enjoy it too.

  Chapter Seven

  Zero Hour

  Jim

  “Hold on,” Jim said as he whipped the wheel around and drove back the way they had come, back toward the place where the scream had originated.

  At the gates of the big, fortified house, they saw a young woman clutching the heavy bars.

  “Please, get me out of here!” she said, glancing back over her shoulder to the house. Jim looked back at the dark windows, wondering if they were being watched.

  “What’s going on?” Jim asked quickly.

  “They’re keeping us here against our will! Get me the fuck out, now!” she said, trying to shake the bars.

  Jim hadn’t failed to notice her lack of decent clothing and shoes. If someone really was keeping her captive, they didn’t want her wandering far.

  “How many are in there?” he asked her.

  “Seven. Three men and four women. The other women are being held, like me. Please, you’ve got to help us.”

  Jim assessed the situation. She could be telling the truth. If so, he couldn’t leave them here to stay prisoners of some unknown men. What if they were as bad as those that had assaulted Peggy and Angie?

  She could be lying.

  Jim knew that it could be a trap. Did they have any choice though?

  “What kind of weapons do they have?”

  “A few guns,” is all she said.

  Great, very precise and descriptive…

  “Cara!” an irate voice shouted. “Get your ass back in here!”

  A man stepped into view. He was a middle-aged man, paunchy around the middle and completely out of shape, but still a threat. He had a pistol in one hand. He came sauntering down the driveway and up to the gate.

  “Well, we haven’t seen any military ‘round here since late May! How’re you boys doing? Is the rest of your troop around here too?” he asked genially, grabbing the woman’s bicep.

  Jim debated on how to answer. Should he just shoot him now? Should he come back later and recon the place?

  “The rest of our unit is spread around town. We’re doing a little cleanup. We’ll be heading out soon though. You people have everything you need?” Jim asked.

  “Oh yeah. We’re pretty well-stocked if you know what I mean,” the man said with a wink.

  “Good, good. We’ll be on our way then. Ma’am,” Jim said, nodding to the woman.

  The woman’s mouth dropped open in shock and dismay at his abrupt change in attitude. He hoped she understood that they weren’t really leaving.

  “Wait!” she cried out. “Aren’t you guys staying to rebuild? I mean, where’s the government?”

  “Our last orders were to stay together and clear as many towns as we could. We won’t be staying once we sweep this area. As far as I know, there is no government anymore.”

  “See, I told you. You better be glad you’re safe here,” Jim heard the man tell her softly.

  Jim fixed her with a look that he hoped would reassure her, then walked back to the Humvee. He saw Nick’s fierce gaze and knew he was pissed. They would have to wait for dark before they could attempt anything.

  ◆◆◆

  They pulled to the side of the road several streets over. There was no dead in sight, but they knew it was an illusion. They had better consider themselves in constant danger of being overrun, it would keep them from getting complacent.

  “What the fuck was that, Jim?” Nick shouted as they stopped. “Are you just going to leave her there with those people?”

  Nick ducked down into the Humvee and glared at Jim angrily.

  “Calm down, Nick. We’re going back after dark. I couldn’t exactly kill the man in his own driveway, not without possibly getting us or those others in there killed in retaliation.”

  Nick settled down and nodded. “How are we going to get in? The place was surrounded by that fence.”

  “We’ll go through the front gate. Did you see that lock? It’s a cinch.”

  Jim rummaged around through his ruck over in the passenger seat and pulled out a black zip case. He held it up. “Lockpicking tools. Never leave home without them.”

  “You’re a cop, man! You aren’t supposed to be doing that stuff!” Nick said indignantly.

  “Was. Was a cop, and who says I broke the law? Lockpicking in itself isn’t illegal. It’s actually a fun hobby.”

  “Whatever. Let’s go to the pharmacy and then get back. I want to keep an eye on that house. I don’t trust that asshole,” Nick said impatiently.

  ◆◆◆

  They reached the other side of town ten minutes later, after some careful maneuvering and reconnaissance. Nick had fired a few more single shot rounds from the fifty, taking down some stragglers. Next time they came out, they would bring more linked ammo. They were running pretty low right now.

  The pharmacy
sat silently next door to a large bank. In front of the bank was a pond and some ducks floated peacefully along the surface. Jim supposed the water was deep enough to protect them from the dead. Maybe they had a hiding place nearby.

  The pharmacy windows and doors had been smashed, but at least the place hadn’t been burned. That mean there was still a chance it held what they needed.

  Jim looked around the parking lot and saw a way around to the back. He pulled the Humvee through the alley, wanting to make sure they weren’t walking into a hidden herd. It looked clear on the outside.

  “Nick, stay here and keep watch. I’ll be right back.”

  Jim jogged inside after peering through the broken windows. Glass crunched under foot as he stepped through and into the gloomy interior. Racks of greeting cards and stuffed animals littered the front of the store, along with some candy bars and soft drinks.

  He scanned the back of the store.

  There were rows of health and beauty products, but he saw nobody standing in the aisles. He lowered his rifle a little and strode forward cautiously, passing the Band-Aids and other first-aid supplies. He wanted to clear the back of the store before gathering the stuff on the list.

  He came to the pharmacist’s booth and peeked around the counter.

  Clear.

  He went through the swinging panel and entered the back. His rifle bumped the edge of a display, causing several pairs of eyeglasses to fall to the floor. The clatter echoed through the dim store, and he winced, clenching his jaw.

  He heard a low growling that made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. It was a bubbling, savage noise, but it didn’t sound at all animalistic. It came from a human throat.

  He desperately scanned the storefront again, trying to pinpoint the noise. It was closing in fast, and he finally heard the shuffling of the steps. There was a Z in here with him and he had no idea where it was. He jumped up on the counter, trying to gain enough height to see more.

  It didn’t help. Meanwhile, the thing edged closer.

  “Fuck,” Jim said aloud.