The Dead Years Box Set | Books 1-8

by Olah, Jeff

  No longer able to keep up, Randy lost sight of them as the SUV sped out of the exit and into what remained of the afternoon. To his left, the tortuous beast sat hunched over Karen’s mangled body. Breaking a three foot section of iron from the obliterated gate, he stood over this thing as it hissed and spit at him. Randy cursed himself as he raised the shaft and then just as quickly swung it, squarely making contact and separating the top and bottom halves of its skull at the jaw line.

  He moved around quickly and kicked the Feeder’s corpse away from her body, hoping to give Karen at least a shred of dignity in death. While watching the horde’s numbers growing and moving toward him, he noticed her hand start to move. Karen’s eye began to twitch and finally opened to a milky white haze.

  He knew what was taking place, although he was speechless as to how fast the transformation happened. He hadn’t seen anyone turn this quickly since the infection took hold weeks ago. He knew the window for an escape back to the stairs and more importantly to his friends was closing. Before his first step back to the stairwell, Randy used his newfound weapon to take out the closest of the Feeders standing in his way. If he got passed the next six or so, he’d have a chance at reuniting with Mason upstairs and getting his friends out of here. “If I don’t get there, everyone is as good as dead.”

  Fifty yards to go and they were closing the gap quicker than he was. “So much for a quick getaway!” Stopping every few feet to take a couple of those things down was better, he thought, than swinging while on the run. A slip, or worse a twisted ankle, would certainly be the end of things for him. It seemed that they were moving faster than he remembered, although he shrugged it off and continued to advance toward the next small group.

  Reaching the door while still alive, Randy figured if there were this many Feeders down here, the rest of the building could be flooded as well. Grasping the handle, he was grabbed from behind. Lucky for him the beast had no legs and was pulling at his pants. Randy raised his size twelve Redwing boot and slammed it down, making contact with the back of its head and driving its teeth into the concrete. One of its canine teeth dislodged and slid to rest next to wall. Randy picked it up and tossed it into his pocket before opening the door to the stairwell.

  The stairs initially appeared vacant, until he reached the first landing and noticed two strays now focused on his every move. They didn’t seem to navigate the downward motion as well as they did climbing or on flat ground. Their progress was more of a slide along the railing, while their feet were being dragged behind. He reached the first of the two almost halfway to his destination and simply stepped to the side and used the iron pipe to push it in the downward direction. This thing certainly broke every bone in both arms and probably a few in its legs as it bounced violently down the metal staircase, coming to a stop two landings away.

  The second beast wasn’t going to be so easy. It managed to get to the area in front of the door Randy needed to get through before he did. It even appeared to be waiting for him to come. Randy hadn’t really ever been frightened by these things as he knew they were slower than he was and made sure to take his time dismembering them without getting too emotional. He knew this was key to his survival in this new world, although the time had come and he began to lose his cool. No one was around to see it and he almost felt bad for what he was about to do. His adversary snarled and spit as Randy wiped a tear from his face.

  Reaching the landing, Randy placed the weapon against the beast’s chest and pinned it back against the door, arms thrashing. Now standing face to face with it, memories of his father Frank came flooding back. He needed to release all the pent up anger from years ago and this thing was unfortunate enough to be his target. Randy started yelling, “Frank, I hate you. I have always hated you. You destroyed my life…now it’s my turn, I’m going to destroy YOU!” The tears continued to flow as Randy shattered the left leg of this thing with one blow, instantly sending it to the ground. He stepped back and slammed the pipe down onto its head repeatedly as the severely disfigured heap of bone and flesh lay motionless.

  His hands weak from gripping the iron weapon and his face soaked from a combination of a day’s worth of sweat and the rancid blood from numerous Feeders, Randy kicked aside the mess and slid open the door.

  65

  The massive building that at one time possessed everything they might need to survive the end of the world was now little more than a warzone they were determined to escape. Hundreds of deranged Feeders roamed every inch of the stadium and the group yearned for a safe departure. Now battered and weary, they limped to the stairwell as Randy came through the door. Speckled head to toe with blood; he placed the long piece of iron across his shoulders, lowered his head and walked to his friends. The group let out a collective sigh of relief as he approached.

  Mason helped Justin limp along on his injured ankle as April and Savannah leaned on one another checking from side to side for any uninvited guests. “Mason, is he OK?” Randy asked.

  “Haven’t had time to stop and check, but I’m sure he’s fine. Said he twisted it while taking on a few of those things back there.”

  Randy leaned in and shook Justin’s hand. “Thanks kid.”

  “For what?”

  “You saved my cousin here.”

  “She’s been thanking him the whole way up here,” April said. “We’re a family now. We have to look out for each other.”

  Still confused, Randy asked, “What’d you do with Lurch… or Christian, whoever he is?”

  “You saw what he did on the field… right?” Savannah asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, he had me help him drag that fat old man into the hallway down there and then released every last Feeder into the building. That’s how Justin hurt himself. He got overrun by those things.”

  Randy scratched his head. “Justin, you let those things out?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “No worries, you did what you thought was right. Let’s get out…”

  April, interrupted as she noticed Randy hadn’t come back with their friends. “I guess you didn’t find William and Karen?”

  More bad news was the last thing any of them needed and Justin would be devastated if he thought he was responsible for Karen’s demise. The kid had seen enough for one day and the truth would drive him and everyone else further toward hopelessness. The few days they shared here in the stadium while living without fear were now officially over. Randy needed the group as strong as possible for the next ten minutes, in body and especially mind.

  “They left in an SUV with that woman, Marie. She drove off too fast for me to stop them. I’m sure they’ll be fine and we’ll find them again soon.”

  “Where’s the little man… Samuel?” Mason asked.

  “He’s gone. Feeders got him. We need to go.”

  “Ok, what’s the plan?”

  Knowing the parking lot would be flooded with Feeders and needing to get to the RV, Randy did a quick mental breakdown of their situation and the obstacles they were faced with. They would definitely face multiple crowds of Feeders in the lot outside. They only carried two guns and Justin appeared unable to run even if he had to. “Ok, the door down at the end of the walkway up there on the left opens into the foyer we were brought through when we first arrived. At the end of the foyer is the exit to the parking lot. It is a straight shot from there to the RV, maybe a hundred yards or so.”

  “Ok Randy, but they took the keys the day we got here. You know how to hotwire that thing?”

  “Don’t need to,” Randy said as he held the length of iron in one hand and reaching into his left pocket, withdrew a single key, handing it to April. “When we get there, make sure to get us moving right away. Mason, you can keep the gun you have and help Justin get there. Savannah you take the other gun and don’t be timid. We all good?”

  “Yeah, sure… but where’d you get the keys?” Mason asked.

  “You think I let those two idiots beat me the other day jus
t for fun? I knew we’d need them at some point and he’d already forgotten that he had them. Worst case, they might have figured out that they were missing and come back for me. That never happened.”

  The door to the stairs slowly began to open and knowing whatever may come through would be something they certainly didn’t care for, Randy kicked it shut and in one motion turned toward the exit. “Let’s go,” he said as another group of Feeders came from the opposite end of the hall.

  Nearing the door to the foyer, the skylights at least fifty feet overhead were now a hazy shade of grey, indicating that nightfall was rapidly approaching. With no less than thirty Feeders gradually making progress toward them, Randy took the lead into the foyer, followed closely by April. With his arm around his son’s waist and the other gripping the pistol, Mason was cautious about using the gun before they reached the parking lot for fear of drawing any undue attention. Savannah brought up the rear carrying the group’s second weapon and noticed a trail of blood dripping from Justin’s shoe.

  “Get to the door,” Randy said, pointing to the exit as he veered to the left and with one swing took the head off the first Feeder. He then spun counter clockwise in front of the next, pulled back and shoved the pipe into its eye socket and through the back of its head, causing Savannah to immediately look away.

  The five converged on the exit all at once. Mason kicked at the emergency door, but to their dismay it was locked. He stepped back, as did the others and fired one round into the lock, blowing the door off its hinges. The three Feeders that were originally no threat because of their distance closed the gap to within a few feet as the group piled through the door and into the late afternoon air.

  Surveying the lot, Randy and Mason noticed the majority of the horde were between the garage exit and the RV off to the right and headed their way. “We have to get there…”

  Justin’s body went limp and the two fell to the ground as one. Mason now held his boy in his arms. “He passed out, probably from the pain. I’ll carry him,” he told the others as he handed Randy the gun and stood with his son in his arms. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Randy gave quick instructions. “April, stay next to me and when we get to the RV, we can swing around to the main door and get Mason and Justin inside. Get the RV started and switch with Mason. Take Justin in the back and we’ll get him some water.”

  “Ok,” April said.

  Randy continued, “Mason, drive us out to the gate we came through on the way here and stop.”

  “Sounds good, we need to go.”

  As the growing number of those wretched beasts headed toward them, Savannah kept a close watch on another group that followed from the rear. Not wanting to worry the others by prematurely firing into the crowd, she would wait until the last minute before doing what was necessary.

  With Randy out in front, they moved as one unit, rushing to get a seemingly dehydrated Justin into the RV and on the road away from this place. Mason continued to check for any immediate danger while also looking at his son’s limp body as they made their way through the lot. Justin’s lips were chalky and his arms cool to the touch.

  Reaching the RV unscathed, they now negotiated between the time it would take to get in and the number of Feeders within feet of devouring them. Randy moved to the back of the pack and grabbed the second weapon from Savannah, urging her to follow the others. April slid the key into the lock and swung the door open as Randy fired off the first round, the sound making everyone’s heart skip a beat. He unloaded every round from the first weapon, taking out most of the first wave bearing down on his friends. Tossing the empty pistol into the RV once Savannah and Mason cleared the doorway, he barked orders yet again, “Get her started, go… go… go..” He then slammed the door and finished draining the second weapon into the overwhelming horde.

  Sliding the key into the ignition, April turned the key. The only sound came from the Feeders who had gathered on the driver’s side of the RV and were now rocking it back and forth. She turned the key yet again with no luck. “Maybe it’s flooded, or the battery’s dead? It’s been sitting here for two weeks.”

  The last four Feeders Randy dislodged by simply pushing them into one another. He rushed back to the RV and hopped in. “I think it’s dead.” April said.

  “Try it again,” Mason said as he came forward to trade places with his wife. “Justin’s burning up; can you go back and see if you can help him?”

  “Ok,” April said, moving from behind the driver’s seat as a lone creature sidled up to the door and started to scratch and claw at the window.

  Looking back at Randy standing at the door and holding it shut, Mason closed his eyes and turned the ignition over once more. The engine roared to life. Mason guided the gear shift into drive, punched the gas and they quickly pulled away from the massive crowd.

  Kissing Savannah on the forehead as she sank into the makeshift breakfast table, Randy slid into the passenger seat next to Mason and reminded him to stop once they got through the gate.

  “How we gonna get through? It’s locked isn’t it?” Mason asked.

  “Yeah, just drive through it. That gate isn’t any match for this thing.”

  “You sure?”

  “No, but we don’t have time for anything else.”

  Picking up speed and heading away from their attackers, they braced for impact. Mason rammed the gate and the lock exploded under the force of the RV. Tiny metal fragments were sent into the surrounding greenery and off the windshield. “Ok… Stop!” Randy said.

  The two halves of the gate slid to the side and Randy exited through the passenger door. Moving around the left side of the gate, he rummaged through the waist-tall bushes and emerged carrying three black duffle bags.

  Entering the RV once again, he handed the bags in one at a time.

  “These have been out there the entire time?” Mason asked.

  “I knew these people were trouble since we pulled up to the gates.”

  “Adam died for these weapons… you know that, right?”

  “Yes,” Randy said. And as the words left his mouth, he turned to Savannah and watched her lower her head to her hands and again begin to cry. Watching the kid being executed reminded Randy of the poor choices he made when he was young and why he was always an outcast, why no one ever befriended him, why he was useless as a human being. He was done. His basic instinct for survival had disappeared. He would get these people to safety and then just leave quietly. He wasn’t going to cause this group any more grief.

  Releasing the brake and continuing down the drive they climbed only a few short weeks ago in hopes of a sanctuary, Mason stared out the windshield. “Shall we try the beach house?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Randy said, without completely acknowledging the question.

  Pulling to a stop at the crosswalk, Mason looked down each side of the street trying to remember which way to turn, when he heard April’s voice coming from the rear of the RV. “Mason, I need you.” Even with the failed attempt to hide it, the panic in her voice was evident.

  Mason put the RV into park and asked Randy to drive as he hurried to meet April. She stopped him at the door to the bedroom and he looked in to see his son lying motionless on the bed.

  “Mason … he’s been bitten.”

  End of Book Two

  The Dead Years

  Book Three

  BLACKMORE

  66

  Rain began to steadily fall out of the night sky, pulsing against the RV as it raced down the open highway at seventy-five miles per hour. With only the headlights to guide the way, desperation hung in the air like the thin layer of fog that stood between the group and their next destination. There was no movement coming from inside the RV as Mason sat on the edge of bed watching his son die.

  Or worse…

  He hadn’t shown any signs of consciousness in just over thirty minutes and the white noise coming from the exterior muted the two separate conversations. Completely inconsolable, April
laid on the bed next to Justin with her head placed firmly against his chest and listened as he continued to breathe in and out. Other than a slight hissing sound he emitted on exhalation, the boy simply appeared to be sleeping. The group all wondered how long this would last and at what point one of them may have to do the unthinkable.

  How much longer did they have to wait for the inevitable to happen? What would it look like? How would they react? No one in the RV had an answer. Savannah moved into the passenger seat and stared out into the darkness, not wanting to make eye contact with Randy as he pushed the RV down the road. They were both grieving, each in their own way. Savannah wanted to talk, although she only managed to get a few words out of him at a time.

  “What are we gonna do?” Savannah said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We can’t keep driving like this, sooner or later he’ll wake up.”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, when he does, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “Randy, we have to do something!”

  “That’s not my call.”

  . . .

  The swing set in their backyard hadn’t been used in almost eight years. The last time Mason and his son were back there was the only other day in his life that he felt this helpless. Friday afternoons were always a special time for him and his boy. Justin flew forward on the seat and back into Mason’s arms numerous times as they waited for April to arrive home from work. At six years old, Justin was already beginning to test his limits and Mason constantly encouraged him to challenge himself.