Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z

by Higgins, Baileigh

  It was the first time Amy got to study a live zombie up close without it trying to eat her, and she found it fascinating. I wonder if she can still think and feel? Maybe she’s trapped in there? I hope not, for her sake.

  With a wild shriek, the woman threw herself at the transparent barrier. She scratched at the glass until her fingernails tore. Failing that, she bashed her head against it until dark blood ran down her forehead.

  The other two infected in the cages next to her reacted in the same manner. Within seconds, the air was filled with their howls and screams. Amy backed away on trembling legs and pressed both hands to her ears. The sound reminded her of the basement.

  “Come on, sweety. You shouldn’t be here,” Tara said, taking her by the elbow. “It’s far too morbid for someone your age.”

  Amy eyed the cages. “Are you sure they can’t get out?”

  “Not a chance,” Tara said. “The glass is bulletproof, and the door is solid steel with an automatic locking mechanism.”

  “What if the power goes off?”

  “There’s a built-in failsafe. Even with no power, the lock remains in place. The only way to open it is with the correct password, keycard, and thumbprint. Even I don’t have that kind of access. Not yet, anyway,” Tara explained. “The only other way is by manual override from the control room, and for that, you need high-level clearance.”

  “Okay,” Amy murmured as she allowed Tara to lead her away.

  “So you see, you’re perfectly safe. Isn’t she, Dr. Patel?” Tara asked.

  “One hundred percent, young lady,” Dr. Patel answered. “I wouldn’t have allowed you in here if I didn’t think it was safe.”

  “Yes, thank you, Dr. Patel. It was nice of you to do the authorization; otherwise, she’d have spent the entire day in the lobby.” Tara led Amy back to an empty table and chair. “Can you keep yourself amused for a while? I need to run some blood samples.”

  “Of course,” Amy replied, though, in truth, she was bored to death. Going to the lab with Tara had not turned out to be as much fun as she’d thought it would. She didn’t even have a book or magazine, and none of the computers had any games on them. Besides staring at the zombies, there wasn’t much to do in the place.

  Amy sat down in the chair and twirled in a circle until her eyes fell on a nearby window. She walked over and stared out at the grounds. The sky was grey and dreary with the sun in permanent hiding. Thick clouds hung low above the ground, and the treetops whipped back and forth in the strong wind.

  She glanced at her watch — half-past four. The storm wasn’t far off. Very soon, Alex and the others would come for them. I wonder what they’re doing now? Did they find that guy that tried to kill Dylan? I hope so.

  With a sigh, she turned away from the window and wandered down the hall. The smell of bleach hung thick in the air. Strong enough to give her a headache. All around, she could see evidence of the zombie outbreak. Bullet holes marred the walls, and numerous glass walls gaped open and empty. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine all the blood and guts.

  Suddenly, a man shoved past her in the hall, almost sending her flying. “What the — Watch where you’re going, mister!”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Without a word of apology, he stormed off, leaving her stunned and bewildered. With a shrug, she turned away. “What an asshole.”

  Without noticing it, her feet carried her back to the containment room. Once again, she stared at the zombie woman with fascinated curiosity. The woman reminded her of her mother in a strange way. Or, of what her mother might have become if she hadn’t ended her own life.

  For a moment, Amy allowed her memories of the past to surface. It was a place she rarely went to, for it never failed to make her cry. This time, she couldn’t fight it.

  ***

  “Listen to me, sweetheart. You have to do what I say,” Amy’s mom said, steering her away from the main bedroom. “Your father’s gone.”

  “No, that’s not true. It can’t be,” Amy cried, unwilling to believe that her father, the strongest man she knew, was dead. Or even worse. A zombie.

  Amy’s mom shook her by the shoulders. “You have to accept the facts, Amy. He’s not coming back. If he could’ve, he would’ve been here.”

  “No,” Amy said, fighting against the knowledge that welled up inside. Her mother was right, she knew it, but she wasn’t ready to accept it. Not yet.

  “Come now.” Amy’s mom tugged on her arm again, pulling her toward the stairs. “You have to focus.”

  “Why?” Amy asked though she knew the answer to the question already. It was written in her mom’s waxen skin, the sweat that beaded on her forehead, the blood that stained the bandage on her arm. She was infected, doomed to become a zombie — a flesh-seeking cannibal.

  “Because very soon, you’ll be on your own. At least until your brother gets here,” Amy’s mom replied. “He’s on his way. He said so, but until then, you have to look after yourself.”

  “Mom, please,” Amy begged, yanking her arm back. “I can’t do this alone. I need you.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re sixteen, not a child anymore.” Her mom paused, staring at her with sad eyes. “I can’t protect you any longer. It’s up to you now. This is the moment when you decide whether you want to live or die. I can’t make that decision for you.”

  ***

  Suddenly, a red light flashed above the cage, and a shrill alarm went off. Yanked out of her thoughts, Amy backpedaled until she hit the wall behind her. A soft hiss drew her eyes to the locking mechanism on the door, and she gasped when she saw the steel bar disengage. The cage was open, and not only the one — all three.

  Adrenalin jolted through her veins, and Amy found herself running back to her desk and chair. She spotted Dr. Patel first and screamed. “The zombies are out. Run!”

  The woman stared at her with disbelieving eyes. “What?”

  “Just run!”

  Amy didn’t stop to help the women. There was no time for that. Spurred on by the vicious howls that rose behind her, she pushed her legs to go faster. She reached her desk and fumbled with her parka that lay on top. Hidden within its folds was her shotgun, the one she’d smuggled into the lab for protection. “Tara, where are you? The zombies are out!”

  She gripped the gun and whirled around as a shrill scream cut through the air like a knife. The infected had found Dr. Patel and were ripping her apart. Amy aimed the gun at the nearest infected. It was only a few feet away, the perfect distance for the shotgun. Three shots. That was all she had. Three shots for three zombies. Breathing out, she steadied her hands and pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The infected fell to the ground as its head disintegrated.

  Two more to go.

  Dr. Patel was still screaming as the remaining zombies tore into her flesh. Crimson blood spurted from the wounds and sprayed onto the pristine white floor. It overrode the smell of bleach with its coppery tang, and Amy had to fight not to gag. She squeezed the trigger again, and the second infected fell in a spray of bone and brains. I got you!

  The last zombie whirled on Amy. It was the infected woman, her mouth wide open as she screeched. Dr. Patel’s blood dribbled from her lips, and Amy’s knees began to tremble. It was a sight from her worst nightmares, and she found herself frozen with fear. “Come on, Amy. You can do this.”

  She pulled the trigger just as the zombie launched itself at her. The shot missed, punching into the infected woman’s chest, instead. The zombie woman staggered back with the force of the blast before regaining her balance. With a hideous howl, she sprang at Amy, rapidly closing the distance. Amy was unable to move, and her gun was empty. The parka, with its pockets full of spare shells, was too far away.

  A fourth boom rang out, and the infected woman slewed to the side before toppling over a counter. Tara appeared next to Amy and grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, but Dr
. Patel.”

  They ran toward the scientist, but it was already too late. Dr. Patel choked on the blood that fountained from her mouth, and half of her face was torn off. Her wild eyes fixed on them, and with foam bubbling on her lips, she said, “Kill me.”

  Tara straightened up and pointed her gun at the dying woman. “I’m sorry.”

  Amy turned away, flinching when the shot punched through Patel’s forehead, ending her suffering. Then Tara was there, shaking her shoulders. “What happened? Who let them out?”

  “I don’t know. I was standing there, and the cages opened by themselves,” Amy said.

  Tara squeezed her eyes shut. “Manual override.”

  She grabbed Amy’s parka and handed it to her. “Reload your gun and put on your jacket. We’d better get out of here.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” Amy asked, her mind still in a daze.

  “Someone wants us dead, Amy. Someone with high-level clearance. Did you see anyone else besides Dr. Patel and me?”

  Amy nodded. “There was a man earlier. He bumped into me in the hall without saying sorry. It seemed like he was in a hurry.”

  “What did he look like?” Tara asked as she shrugged on her parka and reloaded her sawed-off shotgun.

  “He was short with thinning hair and spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. Oldish guy.”

  Tara’s teeth clenched as she growled in anger. “Dr. Bannock. Damn that man. This is the last time he plays with people’s lives, I swear it. Next time I see him, I’m going to kill him.”

  She whirled around and stormed down the passage. “Come on, Amy. We need to find the others. I fear there might be more going on here than we thought.”

  Amy obeyed, running after Tara while shrugging on her parka. As they burst through the exit, they paused to look around. It was bitterly cold, and the wind tugged at their clothes and limbs as if it would blow them away.

  A touch of ice on her cheek caused Amy to look up at the sky. Snow fell from the heavens, tiny flakes of pure white that whirled about in the breeze. It fell in droves, rapidly growing thicker, and she realized something. The storm had arrived, and they were right in the middle of it.

  Chapter 19 - Dylan

  Dylan leaned against the doorjamb of the storage room with her arms folded across her chest. She stared out onto the grounds, searching for movement. It was cold, and getting colder by the minute as the wind was picking up speed.

  Inside the storeroom, an interrogation was taking place conducted by Alex, Saul, and Nick. She was there to make sure no one stumbled across them until they had the information they needed.

  It had taken them most of the day to find Harris, the man who’d tried to murder her inside the lab. After collecting their rations and depositing it at home, they’d begun the search. The first man on the list was easy, and she’d vetoed him without a second glance. Perez. The guy they were looking for was pale-skinned with light eyes, not Latin-American.

  The other five were not so easy. When they finally found Harris, it took forever for Nick to lure him to the storage room. The small building was off the beaten track, and with the coming storm, no one was around. The problem was, Harris didn’t want to talk. She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes past four. They’d better hurry. Tara and Amy would be worried if they didn’t show up soon.

  “How’s it coming along in there?” she called over her shoulder. “Any progress?”

  The sound of flesh striking flesh sounded, and she flinched without meaning to. Nick approached her from within, fresh droplets of blood splattered across his clothes. He stepped outside and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. With shaking hands, he lit the end and took a deep drag.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” Dylan said as the scent of nicotine awoke the craving within her blood.

  “I don’t. It belongs to Harris,” he said. “But I could really use one now. Interrogation is not one of my strong points.”

  Dylan shuddered. “I can imagine it’s not pleasant. Can I have one?”

  “Sure, help yourself,” Nick said, handing over the smokes.

  She lit one and sucked on the filter. Acrid smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed. “It’s been a while.”

  “We’re not getting anything out of Harris. The man’s like a block of stone. The more he bleeds, the more he laughs about it. Not even Saul can get him to talk, and that man is as tough as nails.”

  “Fuck. We need that information. Without it, Major Reed will never take us seriously.”

  “If he doesn’t talk, the major will take his side, and we’ll all be dead,” Nick said. “This has gone way too far already. We were just supposed to talk to him, maybe threaten him a little.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean. I’m sorry about this, too,” Dylan replied. She took a few more drags before killing the cigarette with her boot. “Let me have a shot at it.”

  Nick stared at her. “You can’t be serious?”

  “It’s time to try a different tactic,” Dylan said.

  She strode into the room and paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Bound to a chair was Harris, his face bloody and swollen. Two fingers were dislocated, and he was missing a fingernail.

  Dylan pulled a face. While she didn’t have much sympathy for the man who’d tried to kill her, this was too much. “Whoa, guys. Let me talk to Harris for a second.”

  Saul stared at her. “Dylan, this is not the place for you. Get out.”

  Alex said nothing, but he looked ready to puke at any moment, and she jerked her head toward the door. “Wait outside, Alex.” When he hesitated, she sharpened her tone. “Now!”

  With a shrug, he left the building, and she turned to face Saul. “I just want to talk to the man. Nothing more.”

  “And you think that will work when nothing else has?” Saul asked.

  “No idea, but it’s worth a try,” Dylan replied, facing the prisoner. “What do you say, Harris. Wanna talk?”

  He spat a glob of bloody saliva at her feet and grinned. “Sure, pretty lady. Let’s talk.”

  Dylan smiled and took a step closer. “Harris, how do you feel about zombies?”

  He frowned, clearly puzzled by her question. “They’re monsters. No good for anything but a bullet between the eyes.”

  “That’s right. Then you should know that I nearly became one. If it weren’t for Dr. Lee’s cure, I’d be a flesh-eating cannibal right now.”

  “Yeah, so? I’ve heard all about you and your crazy ass.”

  “Let me guess. Pete Miller and Bobby Jackson filled you in.”

  He pressed his lips together and glared at her.

  “Let me tell you a little story, Harris,” Dylan said in a low whisper. She bent over until they were eye to eye. “I once tore out a man’s throat with my bare teeth and drank his blood. I did the same to his buddy, and there almost wasn’t enough left of them to burn.”

  He blinked, taken aback.

  “You see, I am a monster. Despite the cure, the virus is still within me, waiting for the right moment to come out.” Dylan smiled, baring her teeth. “A moment like this.”

  “You’re lying,” Harris said, but she detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  “Am I? Look me in the eyes, and tell me I’m lying. Tell me I’m not crazy, and that I won’t rip you to pieces with my bare hands.” Dylan stared at him, locking her gaze with his. She allowed the memory of that day to run through her mind with vivid intensity. The day she killed Ray and his buddy like they were nothing more than prey.

  Once again, she tasted the rich, warm blood that had flowed down her throat, and the meaty flavor of a man’s throat clenched between her teeth. The virus within her blood had reveled at the taste. It had wanted more. Craved more. It hijacked her brain and senses until she became a demon from the depths of hell.

  Dylan smiled, running her tongue over her lips. “Well?”

  Harris’ eyes were wide, and sweat ran down his temples. “You’d do that?”
r />   “I would, and I’d enjoy every second of it,” Dylan said. “What’s worse, you’ll become a zombie too.”

  “What?” he asked with a croaky voice.

  “That’s right. You see, once a zombie, always a zombie. I might be cured, but I’m still infectious. One bite and you’re a goner.” Dylan leaned closer and took a deep whiff of the prisoner’s skin. She snapped at the air with her teeth, barely an inch from his throat. “Care to find out if I’m telling the truth?”

  “No! No, please. Don’t do it. I don’t want to be a zombie,” Harris cried out, pulling as far away from her as his bonds allowed.

  Dylan straightened up and folded her arms. “Ready to confess?”

  Harris nodded. “I’ll talk.”

  “Good. I’ll wait outside and remember. If I find out that any of it was a lie, you’re a dead man. Or should I say, undead.”

  He bobbed his head. “I won’t lie. I promise.”

  Dylan stepped away and drew Saul to the side. “He’s all yours. Make sure you get every detail.”

  Saul nodded, his expression somber. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it, and I mean that. Don’t mention this moment to me, or anyone else, ever again,” Dylan said, her eyes fixed to his.

  Saul nodded. “Understood.”

  Dylan walked outside and beckoned to Alex while removing a package from her jacket’s inner pocket. “Alex.”

  He walked over, his expression strained. “Yeah?”

  “Harris has agreed to talk. Write it all down and make him sign it at the end. No more torturing.”

  Alex took the book and pen with a look of wonder. “What did you say to him?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t know. It would just taint that sweet, sweet mind of yours,” Dylan replied.