Dead South | Book 3 | Dead Hope

by Bohannon, Zach

  The boy continued to cry, and Brooke could hear his labored breathing. But he stopped crying and shaking enough to nod.

  “Have they hurt you?”

  Lucas shook his head. Brooke sighed in relief.

  “Have you seen any of our other friends?”

  A nod.

  “Do you know where we are? Have the people here given you any clue to that?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Alright, now listen. Do—”

  The door they had brought Brooke through opened again. The older bald man with the goatee walked in wearing the same aviator-style eyeglasses she’d seen him in before. He took one look down at Brooke before adjusting the collar on his green coat and heading across the room toward Lucas.

  “Don’t you fucking touch him!” she said, helplessly trying to break out of the cuffs.

  The man removed Lucas’ blindfold, allowing the boy to make eye contact with his mother. He looked at her with tears coming from his wide eyes, and then glanced up at the man. The man rubbed the boy’s hair before he turned to face the third door on the other side of the room, to Brooke’s right. He made a hand gesture, and the door opened.

  A snarl echoed off the walls as a zombie entered the room through the door. The creature had once been a woman, its long hair now stringy and ashen. It wore faded, torn jeans and a V-neck sweater.

  Behind it walked a man holding a long pole with a noose at the end, wrapped around the creature’s neck. It was the same sort of tool people used to keep control of wild animals. The man holding it wore what appeared to be a bee suit, fully protecting his body from the creature. The zombie thrashed when he saw the bald man and Lucas on the other side of the room.

  “Come on,” the bald man said, calling the creature over.

  A vein on the side of Lucas’ head bulged. His eyes got even bigger, and he screamed, the sound muffled by the sock.

  “Stop it!” Brooke screamed. She had never felt this helpless.

  But the man didn’t listen; he continued to lead the zombie in her son’s direction, slowly moving beside Lucas. The zombie had briefly looked in Brooke’s direction, but quickly corrected course when the man had called for it. The zombie had moved within a few yards of Lucas when the bald man ordered the man holding the pole to stop. He then kneeled down, putting his arm around Lucas.

  “Shhh,” the man whispered. “It’s alright. I promise you that I’ll make sure this is quick and painless.”

  Lucas thrashed. Just when Brooke didn’t think her son’s eyes could get any larger, they looked like they were going to explode out of his head. He clearly wanted to scream so badly, but the sock in his mouth prevented him from doing so. The zombie must have sensed the fear in him because it swung its arms, doing everything it could to get to him.

  “Please!” Brooke said. Seeing her son like this had broken her, and she wasn’t going to stand by and watch him be eaten alive by one of these creatures. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  The man’s eyes shot over to Brooke. He stood and paced over to her, bending down in front of her.

  As Brooke trembled, the man backhanded her across the face. The move caught Brooke by surprise, but the sting in her cheek was nothing compared to what she felt for her son. The man pointed back at Lucas.

  “It took this for me to get you to admit you’ve been lying this whole time?” the man screamed at her, further exciting the zombie. Brooke had only been around this man once, but he’d had such a calm and collected demeanor. His yelling threw her off-guard.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Just please don’t hurt my son, and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

  “Well, I suggest you hurry then, because I don’t know how much longer my guy over there can keep that thing at bay.”

  “There’s a prison nearby,” Brooke said.

  “I know of it,” the man replied.

  “That’s where Jon died.”

  “He died trying to get in there?”

  Brooke knew she couldn’t lie again, so she shook her head. “He died after we got inside.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “You got inside?”

  Brooke nodded.

  “Impossible. The outside of that place is swarming with infected.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Our camp ran a raid on the place. We cleared out the front of the prison, and we made it inside.”

  Malcolm leaned close to her. “So, are you telling me that if I send a group to that prison, that they’ll be able to get inside?”

  “I am. There’s even some food and other goods in there. We weren’t able to get everything.”

  “And the body of the man I’m looking for will be there?”

  Brooke swallowed. It was hard for her to think of Jon being dead.

  “Yes. He’s in the kitchen. I can even tell you how to get to it. I’ll draw you a map—whatever you want. Just, please, don’t hurt my son. He’s innocent in all this. He’s done nothing wrong!”

  The man stared at her for a moment, his right eye twitching. He breathed heavily before standing. Turning around, he headed back over to where her son and the zombie were.

  Walking over to the zombie, the man pulled a knife from his waist. He stabbed the creature in the skull, sending it tumbling down to the ground. The man in the bee suit sighed in relief as the creature quit fighting.

  Brooke made eye contact with her son, who shook like a child retrieved from arctic waters.

  “Clean that mess up and have them come back to get the boy,” the leader said, making his way back over to Brooke. He pulled his glasses off of his face, cleaning the lenses. Then, he kneeled down in front of Brooke again. “I want you to tell me exactly how to get back to that kitchen.”

  20

  Jon sat against the wall with his knees at his chest and his arms folded over the top of them. His hands were cuffed, but the men had left his legs free. He couldn’t believe that this was where he had ended up.

  They’d brought him to one of the empty houses, which they apparently used as a holding cell. Lennox and Raylon had locked him up inside the master bedroom. They’d installed bars over the windows to keep occupants from trying to escape through them. The room was void of any furniture, and the stark white walls were empty. It had its own bathroom, useless as it was in this new world without running water. But at least he could keep the bucket they’d provided him for that purpose within that space.

  With nothing else to do, he sat and pondered what had gone wrong.

  Jon knew he had taken a risk when showing the men that he’d been bitten. But he’d thought they would understand and that it wouldn’t be such a big deal. He understood if Lennox was hesitant to try to help the people of Hope’s Dawn in fear of igniting a war. But Jon had thought, after all the two camps had been through together at the prison, that Lennox and Raylon would have known Jon wouldn’t foolishly put the people of Freedom Ridge at risk.

  He grew antsy and frustrated as he sat alone in the house. He had to find a way out. Jon still hoped his friends had survived, and he had to find them before it was too late.

  Footsteps pattered across the oak floors in the hallway, and the door opened. Raylon stood there, the two guards in the hall behind him.

  “You sure you should be doing this?” one of the guards asked.

  “Kevin, just do your job and mind your own damn business,” Raylon told the guard. Then, he shut the door behind him. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Raylon leaned against the wall near the door.

  Jon stood up, but Raylon put his hand up to stop him from approaching.

  “I just need to stretch my legs,” Jon said.

  “That’s fine. I just don’t want you getting close to me.”

  “I’m not going to get you sick, Raylon.”

  Raylon put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. He shook his head. “We thought you were dead, man. Brooke and Terrence were sure of it.” He looked up. “What the hell happened in there?”

 
; “We don’t have time for this. Brooke, Terrence—they’re out there somewhere, maybe in danger. We need to—”

  “You’re not getting out of here,” Raylon said, forcefully cutting Jon off. “Look at your arm, Jon. I mean, what did you think was going to happen if you came back here?”

  “I thought you two would trust me, and that you’d help me.”

  “How in the hell are we supposed to trust you if you’ve been bit by one of those things? You’re lucky Lennox didn’t shoot you as soon as you told him, especially with Sarina running around.”

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone, Raylon. I’m immune.”

  Raylon averted his gaze from Jon’s. “No one is immune.”

  “You don’t believe that. You were even questioning it with Lennox. You said yourself that you guys haven’t traveled that far. You’ve basically been here the whole time since all this shit started. None of us know what’s really going on out there. But there are people who’ve seen a lot more shit than us. People like those bikers your scout saw.”

  “I know you’re not about to tell me you think you’re immune because some Mexican biker gang said you are.”

  “They said there was a doctor up in Cleveland doing some work. One of the women in their gang got bit and never turned.”

  “You saw her? You saw her bite with your own eyes?”

  Jon clenched his jaw. “She wasn’t there. She killed herself about a week after she was bit.”

  “See? So, how do they know she was immune? I could see someone lasting a week before turning. It’s possible that some people are more resistant to it than others.” Raylon gestured toward Jon’s arm. “Clearly, you are. But in the end, they all turn.”

  Jon took a couple of steps toward Raylon. “Listen to me. If you want to believe that I’m not immune and I’m going to turn, then fine. Leave me to rot or have one of your guards come shoot me. I don’t give a damn. But please, don’t leave our friends out there to die. You and I both know this Malcolm asshole that Lennox is scared of is responsible for burning down Hope’s Dawn. If he’s willing to do that, who’s to say he won’t come here and burn down Freedom Ridge?”

  “That ain’t gonna happen. Lennox has it under control.”

  Jon could hear the doubt in Raylon’s voice. “You know that’s not true.”

  Raylon hesitated, averting his eyes from Jon’s again. “We just can’t put Freedom Ridge at any more risk. It was hard enough to talk Lennox into going to the prison. I’m sorry, Jon.”

  “Yeah,” Jon said, “so am I. I’m sorry that I didn’t try to talk Los Muertos into going and taking out those assholes instead of coming here to where I thought my true friends were.”

  Raylon glared at Jon for a moment, and then he shook his head. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  21

  One of the men opened the SUV door, and Malcolm stepped out of the backseat, adjusting the collar on his coat. He didn’t bother to thank the man for opening the door for him. Instead, his eyes went straight to the prison.

  He had never been there himself, but scouts had reported an assessment of the place. They’d told him the front yard was swarming with zombies, and that the risk to get inside would be high. And the scouts had pointed out that even if they cleared out the zombies, there’d be no telling what would be waiting for them on the inside. Based on that report, Malcolm had decided not to attempt to get into the prison.

  Now, he wanted to find the men who’d scouted the place and gut them in front of the rest of Black Hill to make an example. If anyone should have gotten into the prison, it should have been Black Hill. It was an embarrassment that it hadn’t been them.

  The front gate of the prison lay on the ground, apparently rammed by a vehicle evident from tire tracks. Beyond it, the yard was covered in corpses. Malcolm couldn’t be sure from where he currently stood, but most of them appeared to be zombies. So far, the woman’s story had held up.

  Bryce had been riding in one of the two other vehicles that had come to the prison, and he approached Malcolm. “How do you wanna proceed?”

  “Have three of our men stand guard outside just in case someone happens to show up here. I want you, Bennett, and the rest of the men with me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Bryce went to give the instructions, Malcolm approached and made his way through the front gate.

  Most of the corpses had been burned, along with much of the grass. Because of the burns, Malcolm still couldn’t tell if more of the dead had been zombies or humans, though he guessed they were zombies based on the ones he could see who weren’t severely burned, as well as the woman’s story. It didn’t appear she’d lied to him this time.

  “We’re ready to head in if you are, sir,” Bennett said from behind Malcolm.

  Malcolm nodded, and Bennett stepped in front of him, to be followed by the half-a-dozen other men and women they’d brought with them. Bryce hung back with Malcolm.

  The soldiers entered the front door like a SWAT team, their weapons ready for any danger on the other side.

  “All clear,” Bennett said.

  Once they’d entered the prison, they moved down a long corridor. Malcolm thought they could scour the place more fully later, but he could let Bryce handle those logistics. He had only one objective now.

  Following the woman’s directions, they moved down the hall until they came to a door. They ended up in a cell block where more corpses lay on the ground, these appearing as if they had been there much longer. The stench hit, but Malcolm didn’t show any sign that it bothered him.

  “Damn, that reeks,” Bryce said.

  Malcolm drew a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, where he’d written down the directions the woman had given him. He followed them, remaining cautious and on the lookout for zombies and other humans who might be scavenging the prison. Other than the occasional body lying on the floor, they found nothing of interest. They eventually made it through a recreational area and came to the door to the cafeteria.

  “We’re close now,” Malcolm said.

  His heart raced. So far, everything the woman had told him had been true. He was going to find the man who’d killed Judah. Part of him would be sad, as he wouldn’t be able to kill him himself. But if the Savage had died the sort of death Malcolm thought he had, based on the predicament the woman had described, then so be it.

  But as they entered the cafeteria, Malcolm frowned as he saw the first inconsistency in the woman’s story.

  “Didn’t she say he’d be in the kitchen?” Bennett asked, pointing ahead. “It must be through that door.”

  “But why is it open?” Bryce asked.

  That was precisely Malcolm’s thought. The woman had said they’d shut the Savage into the room. The room had been filled with zombies, she’d said. Zombies that Malcolm and his men hadn’t seen since they’d entered the prison.

  As they moved across the cafeteria, the same feeling of rage that Malcolm had had before began to creep up inside him. The closer they got to the kitchen, the more it grew.

  Before they even reached the door, he saw the zombies scattered across the kitchen floor. Blood covered the ground and the walls. He could see it on the counters, as well.

  The armed men entered the kitchen first, but Malcolm didn’t wait for clearance to come. He had to find the body of the Savage, the man he still refused to call by his name even though the woman had used it. He immediately began searching the room for anything resembling the description the woman had given him.

  All the zombies wore prison attire. Most were dressed in jumpsuits, but Malcolm saw at least two guards among the two dozen or so bodies on the ground. But he didn’t see the Savage.

  That feeling inside him grew, and he kneeled and began looking under the corpses where there were other bodies hidden in order to be sure. He went and checked the nearby pantry, but there was no sign of the Savage. He came back into the kitchen and leaned on one of the counters.

  “He’s not h
ere,” Bennett said. “That bitch lied to you.”

  There was a silence in the room before Malcolm slammed his fists down on the table, startling the group around him.

  He screamed, finding anything that was nailed down to toss around the room. Pots and pans slammed against the walls. He kicked zombies at his feet. His boot connected with the face of one so hard that its neck could be heard snapping.

  When he was done, he leaned on the counter again and breathed hard. And then Malcolm looked around the room, witnessing the faces of his followers. They had never seen him like this.

  Despite all of his anger, a curious thought came to Malcolm. It caused him to somehow bring a slight smile to his face.

  If the Savage wasn’t here, there was a chance he was still alive.

  And if he was still alive, Malcolm might get his chance to make the bastard suffer after all.

  22

  Jon had found a way to sleep a few hours that night. Someone had brought him a bedroll to lay on, and at first, he’d refused to use it, telling himself that he was going to stay awake. But at some point it became useless to be so petty, and he’d overcome his stubbornness in order to get some rest. There’d been no point in remaining awake.

  He’d woken to the door opening and a different person bringing him a plate of unheated pinto beans and some jerky. He hadn’t eaten much of anything since the dinner with Los Muertos, so he devoured the food—which he thought he might regret later. But the stomachache from eating too quickly would be worth it.

  All he could think about was Brooke, her son, and his other friends from Hope’s Dawn. Jon hoped they’d gotten away, or even that they hadn’t been there when the place had burned, but he doubted that could be the case. Something in his gut told him they’d been taken captive. And he had a good idea of who had done it.

  Jon knew it had to have been this Malcolm asshole who Lennox had talked about. When they’d first met, Lennox had been hesitant to even befriend the folks from Hope’s Dawn once he’d found out the fight they’d had with the Vultures. And that had all been because of this Malcolm guy.