Refuge From The Dead | Book 3 | Dead Fall

by Masters, A. L.

“Of course. Don’t take too long though, we need to leave here. The noise might have drawn attention to this place.”

  “Give me five minutes,” was all she said.

  They went to get Nick who was waiting in the hall. Jim saw the sorrow on his face. He didn’t know if it was for the men or the women.

  They walked down to the basement where the women were waiting in suspense. When they saw Cara return with the two men, they all ran to her and squealed like kids at a birthday party.

  “You did it. You got us out of here!” said a slightly overweight redhead. She carried the extra weight well though, and her curves were well-proportioned. Her smile was bright enough to light up the room. She was clapping her hands with excitement.

  “I never doubted she would,” said Tattoos.

  “Where are we going now? Are we really going with two strange men?” asked a small, quiet one.

  She seemed very shy and fragile. Jim was scared that she would start crying any moment. He didn’t know what he would do if she did.

  He was glad Angie wasn’t prone to being super emotional.

  “Honey, it’s that or stay in this town alone. I, for one, am not eager to go do the grocery shopping. Not only because of those damned zombies running around, but that big gang up north comes down here sometimes too.” She gave a wise look to the shy petite one, who frowned and looked nervous.

  “I don’t think zombies actually run,” Tattoos said.

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Okay. Guys, can you give us a few minutes alone? We need to pack our things. We’ll meet you in the living room upstairs. We won’t be long,” Cara asked quietly.

  Jim nodded. “Please don’t take too long. We really do need to get moving. We should be able to get back to our camp before dawn if we hurry.”

  Nick followed him to the living room. He peeked out the curtains. The front was still clear. They would need to make it back to the garage where they had hidden their Humvee, and that meant it needed to be clear.

  They couldn’t risk running a gauntlet with a bunch of women.

  “You think they’re changing their minds about going?” Nick asked him.

  “Nah. I think Cara wants to make sure they are all in agreement. They don’t want to be forced into anything. I don’t blame them,” Jim said.

  “Yeah,” was all Nick said in reply.

  It was only a few minutes later when the women appeared in the doorway to the living room, each carrying a small bag of their things. He was glad they hadn’t tried to bring a bunch of stuff. There wouldn’t be any room and he would feel like an asshole telling them to leave it behind.

  “We’re ready.”

  ◆◆◆

  They exited through the front door and Jim could sense the women’s excitement and fear. He heard some of them whispering back there and he turned around and gestured for silence. It was imperative to make their way as silently as possible.

  He didn’t think this group was capable of running very far. Not with having been locked up for three months.

  The women immediately stopped talking and paid attention to him. He motioned Nick to take the rear. He took the front and they started off.

  He smelled the heavy, thick smell of rain and knew it was coming soon. He had no idea if it would be a short burst of rain, or another severe storm. They needed to get out of here.

  The group made it to the front gate, which was closed but still unlocked. He pushed it open and slipped through the gap. The street was clear to the right and the left, which was awesome, but they were going straight.

  Straight ahead the path was deeply shadowed. It was a narrow alley between two houses. It had been clear earlier, but that could have changed by now. There was just no telling.

  They moved up.

  As they filed in between the two buildings, Jim heard a scuffle of a shoe against pavement. He was almost certain that it had come from the front, but it was possible one of the women had shuffled their feet. He hoped so anyway.

  He stopped and held up a hand for them to stop as well, his eyes never leaving the darkness ahead. A crack of thunder in the distance caused someone behind him to draw a sharp breath. He flinched.

  He pulled his large knife from his belt and wished he had taken a page from Cam’s book and brought an axe. He flipped on the red lens of his head lamp and immediately wished he hadn’t.

  A corpse was shuffling toward him, looking somewhat more sinister in the red light. It was perhaps ten feet away and was now moving faster, shuffling its ragged, bloody house shoes along the pavement rapidly. It was coming for them.

  “Oh God!” one of the women whispered.

  Another one muffled a squeak behind clasped hands. Jim gestured them to go back with his free hand, while he moved forward to meet the threat head on. The tall, thin, dead old man slid his feet forward more. His movements caused his rotting, sagging skin to swing pendulously inside his open bathrobe.

  It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  Jim lunged forward and feinted to the left. When the corpse reached out and snapped at his free hand, he plunged the knife under the zombie’s chin and up into its brain. He stepped back quickly, pulling the knife free. Pus and putrefaction splattered wetly as the dead old man fell to the ground, crunching his nose and teeth against the concrete.

  Yellow, brown, and black swirls of fluid and rot ran in rivulets to the closest crack in the concrete. Jim stepped back to avoid coming into contact with any more of the diseased fluids. He already had the shit all over his pants.

  He was also pretty sure he had some droplets of it on his hand from when he stabbed the thing. He couldn’t stop now to clean it off yet. There could be more.

  The girls followed him like ducklings as he hopped over the fallen corpse and its streams of putrid fluids. He reached the end of the alley and didn’t like what he saw there.

  “Nick! We’ve got more!” he whispered over his shoulder.

  Nick crept up next to him after instructing Tattoos to watch the back. Jim heard him curse under his breath at the scene.

  The street was littered with the dead, at least ten…maybe fifteen. The only thing in their favor was the fact that they were spread out. Conceivably, they could run around and take each of them down without being attacked by another.

  Conceivably was the key word.

  “Think we can take them?” Jim asked him, eyes never leaving the scene.

  “Absolutely. You take the left and I’ll take the right. We meet in the middle. That way nothing can get behind us.”

  Jim nodded and went back to the girls.

  “You guys stay here and be quiet. Do not move unless you have to. Watch the back and call out if you see anything.”

  He didn’t wait for their objections before running out behind Nick to take down his side of the zombie squad. He ran out to the left, wider than necessary, hoping to draw them further away from the center.

  It worked.

  He allowed one rotting corpse to get within grabbing distance. As it lunged in for the kill, he sidestepped and plunged the knife into the base of its skull. It went in easily, instantly eliminating the target.

  Another came up quietly as Jim was withdrawing the knife. It grabbed at his shirt with its ragged, dirty fingernails and wouldn’t let go. He shoved the thing to the pavement, tearing his shirt in the process.

  “Asshole,” he said, as he bent down and thrust the knife through its brain.

  He generally avoided the eyes because it was just freaking nasty to pop eyeballs. This time, he had to hurry because he was about to become someone’s snack.

  Another Z was creeping up from the side. The milky fluid that secreted from the creature’s eye socket was slimy and almost pearlescent, producing a greasy, rotting odor that made Jim’s stomach turn.

  He couldn’t stop to throw up, because the next bloated, decaying shuffler in line was grabbing for his face with blackened fingers. Thankfully, this one’s fingernails had long since fallen off.<
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  Now the only risk was getting a decomposing finger in his mouth. He didn’t really like that alternative and kicked the thing in the midsection.

  Big mistake.

  It didn’t stumble and fall back like he had anticipated.

  Instead, its skin had decomposed enough that his foot sank into its liquifying bowels. His boot, now covered in rot, met the zombie’s spine. He felt the vertebrae snap under the pressure and the walking corpse kind of folded over on itself. Backwards.

  Jim did gag then. He leaned over and spit to the side, willing himself not to be sick.

  Puppies…kittens…rainbows…unicorns…fried chicken…raw chicken…rotting, slimy, moldy chicken…guts…No, not that!

  He had used up his precious few seconds to spare and now had to get back into the game. He couldn’t bring himself to get so close to the thing that had swallowed his boot—with its guts—so he used his nasty, contaminated foot to stomp on its skull. Thankfully, it was somewhat brittle.

  He pretended that he hadn’t seen the spurt of decomposing brain matter that shot out of its face on impact.

  This night will be one for the books.

  He looked over to where Nick was fighting the others. Some of Jim’s targets had wandered over to Nick and he was in danger of becoming…overwhelmed, would be the nice word for it.

  “Hey,” he said in a normal voice, drawing two of the things away from their mission to disembowel and eat Nick.

  They limped over to their new quarry.

  One had a badly broken foot dragging behind it. In fact, Jim was sure that skin was the only thing holding it on right now. He ran up and dispatched it somewhat more cleanly than the last two. Then turned his focus on the next one.

  That is one big, dead son of a bitch.

  He must have been at least six and a half foot tall and three hundred pounds in life. He plodded closer to Jim, who was thinking of the best way to take this one down. He seemed less decayed than the others, and that was bad.

  The fresh ones were stronger and faster.

  It closed the distance, reaching out its massive arms to Jim’s face. Jim jumped to the side and ran around behind it. He sprang forward, grabbing the massive thing’s shoulder and driving the knife into the base of its skull. It weaved a little, as if it would fall, but then regained its footing.

  The angle of the stab was awkward, and it didn’t work. The knife wedged solidly into the vertebrae of his back.

  Jim jumped down before the monster could turn and latch its vicious teeth onto the hand he was resting on its shoulder.

  “Damn!” he said.

  He had lost his only blade.

  “Jim!” Nick shouted.

  Jim dodged another lunge by the hungry dead giant and glanced over at Nick. He had finished off his foes and was running to help Jim. Jim watched as Nick sprang through the air and tackled the extra-large zombie to the ground. They fell in a heap of flesh.

  The dead man turned his head as Nick was attempting to hold it steady so he could stab it through the neck.

  “Argghh,” Nick cried out as the corpse latched onto his forearm.

  Blood welled between the thing’s teeth and Nick stabbed it in the eyes repeatedly, screaming out in pain and rage.

  “You. Fucking. Son. Of. A. Bitch!” he said as the zombie finally stilled.

  Its jaw had unclenched, and Nick ripped his arm from the thing’s mouth. He fell over to the side, grasping the wound.

  “Cut it off! Cut the fucking thing off now!” he yelled to Jim.

  “Shit. I can’t! I don’t have an axe. I have nothing! Damn it!” Jim ran back to the women, who were crying with fear and distress.

  He reached down into the side pocket of his ruck and pulled out the alcohol. He ran back to Nick and knelt down.

  “Give me your arm!” he yelled.

  Nick clenched his jaw and stretched out his arm. It was a bloody chewed mess.

  Jim dumped the entire bottle of rubbing alcohol on the wound. Nick screamed in agony at the burning of his damaged and ripped skin and muscle. Jim held him down until it stopped. He looked the street every few seconds to make sure they weren’t attracting more of the things.

  It was clear for now.

  “Help me get him up!” he yelled over to the women.

  Cara, the big redhead, and Tattoos came forward immediately, followed more slowly by the others. They pulled him to his feet and supported him while Jim picked up the two small rucks.

  “Follow me!” he said and took off slowly through another alley.

  Only one more street over and then they could rest.

  ◆◆◆

  They made it to their hideout.

  They piled into the living room and laid Nick down on the couch. Jim made sure everything was secure before he went to the Humvee in the large garage. He pulled out the bag of medical supplies and went back in.

  He would do what he could, then he would just have to wait.

  Once again, Nick is waiting to die. He probably won’t be so lucky this time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Quarantine

  Cam

  Cam was leading the others to the highway when he noticed a faint odor drifting in through the open window of the Humvee.

  It was a rotting smell.

  He slowed and looked around the dark highway and fields beyond. He couldn’t see well enough to notice anything abnormal, but the smell was getting stronger now and it was making him uneasy.

  He slowed to a crawl, smelling more deeply now. It was definitely something dead.

  It was wafting in thickly now. It smelled like that one summer when he drove past a Texan cattle ranch and had seen piles of dead cows in the fields. This was worse. Infinitely worse.

  Something was really wrong here.

  “Cam, this isn’t right. That’s really strong to be just a dead animal or something. I think we need to get out of here. Quick!” Ed said nervously.

  “I think you’re right.”

  He executed a three-point turn and pulled up next to the pickup truck. Tanaka was driving with Trap riding shotgun. The women were in the back leaning forward trying to see.

  “Something’s wrong here. We’re going to go back and find another way home,” Cam said.

  Tanaka nodded. Then glanced over at the road. Cam saw his eyes widen and he swallowed.

  “I think we should leave very soon,” he said, nodding to the front of the truck.

  Cam turned and looked behind him.

  “Hell.”

  In the light of the truck’s headlights were hundreds of gleaming eyes. There was a veritable army of the dead on the march, and they were coming directly toward them.

  The smell was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

  “Let’s move!” Cam said, pulling away.

  He heard the truck turn around behind him and they sped away.

  “Ed, we need to get off this road. We need to make a left or right turn to go around. What do you know about this area?” Cam asked.

  “Not much. I never got up this way. I had a blindfold on when they brought me up here.”

  “I know where we can go,” said a voice from the back. It was Mac.

  “Where?”

  “It’s a buddy’s house, about fifteen miles away. Make a right on the next highway.”

  “Is it safe?” Ed asked him, looking back.

  “Safer than here.”

  ◆◆◆

  Mac directed Cam to the house, and he carefully memorized the route back to the highway. He would need to mark this on the map when they got inside.

  He pulled up to the dark house. It was a small mid-century, single-story structure. Maintained, but not in great condition.

  It was also completely dark.

  “His car isn’t here,” Mac supplied.

  Cam got out, calling the dog to him. The dog was acting normally. Mac led Cam to the back porch and Cam watched as he leaned down and pulled a key from the back of a fake rock.

&n
bsp; What was it with people and these fake rocks?

  “Do you want me to go first?” he asked Cam.

  “No. Just unlock it, but don’t open the door yet.”

  He turned the bolt and stepped back. Cam rapped on the window loudly and waited. Several minutes passed and he didn’t hear anything coming from inside.

  If his buddy’s car was gone, then it was most likely empty. He switched on his headlamp and turned the knob.

  “Hello?” he called out to the darkened kitchen.

  No answer.

  “If you go straight through, there is a living room. That’s where the doors to the bathroom and bedroom are.”

  “No basement?” Cam asked.

  “Nope.”

  He walked carefully through the small house. The inside was clean and neat, but the air was stale and musty. Nobody had been here for a while, maybe even since the beginning. He cleared the house and they packed in their supplies, stacking them in a corner of the living room.

  The German Shepherd padded over to the rug and laid down, looking at Cam.

  “Well, this is it,” Ed said to the group.

  He looked over at Cam and Cam knew it was time to say what was on his mind— what he had decided.

  “Everyone…Ed…you aren’t going to like this, but we’re going to have to stay here for a couple of weeks in quarantine. That farmhouse contained two bodies, one of which most likely died of some kind of hemorrhagic illness. I don’t know if it is the same thing that is turning people into the walking dead, but it seems likely. We’ve all been exposed now, and I refuse to carry a potentially fatal illness back to my family.”

  “We weren’t exposed!” one of the women said.

  “You were. You rode in the pickup truck we got from that farm. For all we know, this bacteria or virus or whatever, can lay dormant for long periods of time. I’m sorry,” he said.

  She shook her head, upset at the possibility of getting sick. He was upset too. Hell, he was expecting to get home tonight. He hoped everyone was okay back on the island. He hoped they didn’t leave.

  They didn’t know about the sickness. The plague.