“Damn! How’d I get into this?”
He checked his rifle clip. Five bullets. He slammed the magazine in and charged the handle.
Seventeen years Chad had been a Border Patrol agent. He never imagined his career would end like this. Even after the Outbreak. He’d chased down drug runners, smugglers, illegals and zombies. The hunter, never the hunted. Now it was him. The desert. Rifle. Buck knife. And nowhere to go.
He peeked from under the rocks and checked the sky. The clouds puffed in long lines over the pale blue sky and nothing else. He knew there were more drones. They’d been using them for years. But there was something else out there. After him.
Hours ago he’d been a prisoner. He meddled too much. Got too nosey. Being a good scout. His boss told him there were people that didn’t like that. To keep his nose inside the window. He stuck it out. Got caught.
The drug trade was busted up for years after the Outbreak. Most all of the cartels were wiped out. South America was one of the places hit hard. But the drugs had started moving again. New cartels had cropped up. All were bad except the ones funded by his own government. He’d caught them red handed. They’d tried to explain. Reel him in. Offered him a chip in the game. Piss off, he’d said. He hadn’t gotten a chance to follow up after that. Hours later he’d woken up, wrists bound behind his back with a sack over his head.
When they took off the sack, there was nothing but desert and sky. Two soldiers. A van. And something that horrified him. Zombies. Their faces were horrific. They were big too. Mouths snapping. Eyes wandering. Hands clutching. There were strange hooks on the gloves they wore. Chad had never felt cold in desert heat before.
They’d given him an hour. Supplies were straight ahead. A box in the sand. Good luck they said. He thought he knew those guys. He’d cursed them and started running. That was two hours ago. At least his watch still worked.
He took off the wristband and read the engraving.
Happy 10th, Love Monica
He sobbed. Hit the rocks. He’d never see his wife again. Or his children. All four of them.
Life isn’t fair. That’s what his father said. Don’t be surprised when it swallows you. Fitting words.
He took the final sip from his canteen and tossed it away. Double checked the safety on his rifle. He stepped away from the rocks and scoured the land. Just sunlight, desert and him. He could run south and maybe find the border wall and some friendlies, but that was probably twenty miles away. He’d never make it. Whenever the zombies caught up with him he’d be exhausted.
I’m not going down without a fight.
He crawled up on the rocks. Faced the direction he came from and rubbed his chin. Sweat dripped in his eyes. His mouth was already dry. Two specks moved across the desert. Coming his way. His heart jumped.
“I don’t care what happens to me, Lord, just look after my wife and boys.”
He lay over the rocks. Wet his sight. The sun was setting in his eyes.
Not going to get any easier, is it.
He squinted. The zombies were maybe a quarter mile away. They ran with a jagged gate and zigzagged over the sand. Chad never figured zombies for trackers. It was uncanny. But they came right after him.
Can’t be possible. Did they spray something on me?
The zombies scrambled over the dust and dirt, stumbled, clawed their way back to their feet. Chad’s heart pounded in his ears. His legs trembled. He wanted to run. He was a soldier though. Running wasn’t an option.
Pull it together, Chad. They’re zombies. You’re smarter than them. Fill their heads with lead.
They were less than a hundred yards away. Moving fast. He took aim. Finger trembling on the trigger. He could make out their faces. The heads were covered in a matte finished metal. Only their gaping mouths were exposed.
“Never easy …”
He took aim. Go for the eyes.
50 yards.
Their voices were heard. Chills raced through his spine.
Numma-numma.
25.
Numma-numma.
Crack!
One zombie head recoiled back. It stumbled and fell.
Chad slung the bolt back. Aimed for the next.
Crack!
It’s head snapped back. It stumbled backward. Then forward. It ran right at him.
Crack!
Ten yards away Chad hit it square in the nose. The bullet zinged off. The zombie kept coming like it went right through him. The other zombie was up and running. The nearest clawed at the rock he stood up on.
“Damn!”
The zombies’ eyelets were slits. A bullet was stuck in one of them.
Chad rocked the bolt back again. Stuck the barrel in the zombie’s eyelet and fired again.
Click!
He rocked the bolt back again and fired.
Click!
“Son of a bitch! Those were dummies. Dirty Bastards!”
The zombies clawed at the rocks. Teeth gnashed.
Swinging his rifle like an axe, Chad busted one in the head. He beat it. Beat it and beat it again. It tore the rifle from his hand. He slipped. His arms flailed and backward he fell on the other side of the rock. He jumped to his feet. Clipped his head on the rock. Blood dripped from the side of his eye.
Chad spit in the dirt. The jitters were gone. His blood churned. Temper boiled. He slid the Bowie knife out when the first zombie came around the rock. He ran at it full throttle.
Glitch!
He shoved six inches of steel in its throat. Ripped it out and stabbed again. Again.
The zombie tore at him. The tiny hooks in its gloves snagged Chad’s shirt and tore skin off. It went wild. Snapping and licking at the blood.
“No you don’t!”
Chad was bigger. Strong. It was smaller. Stronger. He stuck his leg behind it and slung it to the ground. The back of its neck was exposed. Wild eyed and bloody, Chad pounced. The blade sliced through the Zombie Suit and slid between its neck and out the other side. He raised the knife again.
“Die, Monster!”
The second zombie plowed into him.
The knife slipped from his fingers.
CHAPTER 9
-Washington, D.C.-
“I’ll be damned,” Don said, gaping, “The Man Who Saved the World lives.”
Nate offered a little shrug and showed some teeth. The look on Don’s haggard face was priceless. Almost joyful.
“It’s me, alright. A different kind of zombie.”
Don huffed. Leaned forward in his seat, eyes squinting.
“So they reconstructed your face?”
Nate rubbed his hairy jaw. It still irritated him. It clicked when he chewed sometimes too.
“They did about everything they could do.”
Don’s eyes slid over to Walker. They narrowed then returned back to Nate.
“I have to admit. You guys have really pulled off something. Kidnapping me was one thing, but resurrecting you,” Don’s white brows lifted, “that’s impressive. I feel I’ve underestimated my captors.”
Nate dragged a metal seat across the floor and sat in front of Don. He’d talked to Don more than a few times during his tour of being the Man Who Saved the World. The older man was hard, but alright. He said enough, but not too much.
“Tell us about Ravenloft.”
“Are you an interrogator now, Nate? Huh.”
Nate looked him dead in the eye. Pushed up his sleeves up. Leaned in.
“No. But I’ll tell you what I am. I’ve been murdered. Revived. My face reconfigured. Thanks to guys like Walker and Oliver I’ve been rebooted. Both lives that I had? They’ve come and gone. It doesn’t leave me much to live for. And I have you and the likes of you to thank for it.”
“Alright,” Don said, wheezing a little. “So your life’s been bad. At least you still have it. So now what, Nate? Do you plan to save the world again? From who, me? Ravenloft? Pfft.” Don leaned forward until their heads almost touched.
“You’ll never get close.”
“We will if you join us.”
Don’s eyes popped open. He chuckled.
“Are you kidding me? You’re recruiting me? Hah!”
Nate leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Think of it as getting a second chance. Everyone deserves a second chance. Even you, Don.”
Don swallowed hard. Took a sip from his Dew. Nate saw his eyes water. The old man’s still got a piece of heart left. Nate had spent plenty of time with Don and his colleagues at the WHS Zombie Conferences. He’d joked with them from time to time, calling them the Magnificent Twelve. They were all polished and cold. They’d still buttered Nate’s behind though. He’d made them. He knew they didn’t like him. He could feel it, but he could never quite touch it. But now he understood. He was the man that had foiled all their plans.
“Ha,” Don grumbled, shaking his head. “There’ll be no second chances for me and no third chances for you.” He shifted in his seat and eyed them all. “None of you stand a chance. You might as well try to kill the President.”
“Come on, Don. You don’t really want to protect them, do you?” Nate said. “Think about it. They tried to kill me. They were ready to kill you. Take a shot at them. Save millions in the process.”
Don patted Nate’s knee.
“You know, I liked you, but the others. They really hated you. The way you screwed things up for them. Everything was going according to their plans, when all of a sudden,” Don spread his arms out in the air and flicked his fingers. “Boom—The Tweet that saved the world. Ha. Ha. Ha. Nate, I wish you could have been there to see their faces.” He bobbed his head. “It was like all the blood left their bodies. Then the cursing started. I laughed. Huh. I think that might have caught up with me.” He shook his head at Nate. “Man, you really screwed up everything for a while.”
Nate leaned back in his chair.
Walker said, “Huh.”
Oliver was shaking his head.
Don had confirmed the entire conspiracy. He’d been there when it all happened. He knew all the plans.
“I bet you want to punch me,” Don said, lifting his chin. “Don’t you? Go ahead.”
No blood rushed. No anger swelled in his chest. Nate felt empty. Smaller than he ever had.
Walker slugged Don in the jaw.
Smack!
Don’s head cracked against the back wall. His lip was bleeding.
“That was stupid,” Don said.
“Why?” Nate said.
Don rubbed the blood on his jacket sleeve.
“Why what?” His brows lifted. “Oh. Well, I’ll give you seven billion reasons why.”
Nate’s cheeks warmed. “So some people think there’s too many people and decide to wipe out billions of them?”
Don’s face hardened. “There’s too many people to control. They consider it a threat.”
Electricity raced up and down Nate’ spine. Walker and Oliver had been filling him in on some of the conspiracies he’d been looking into before all this started. Weeks before Christy Backwater was killed.
Don continued.
“They considered you a threat too, Nate. You started snooping around. Digging into those theories. They panic. You foiled them once. Now, if you came out, vocalized your doubts, you might have blown all their covers.” He clapped his hands. “It was time to snuff you out. Not my call though. I liked you, Nate. You were entertaining. Human. Nothing like those blood suckers. They’re cold. Malicious.”
Nate got up. “You seem pretty talkative all of a sudden. Are you sure you aren’t having second thoughts?”
“No, I’m certain I’m not. I’m just entertaining you fools. You must have watched too much X-Files when you were kids. All of your eyes light up at the mention of the word conspiracy. Like children at Christmas. If you’re smart, you’ll just walk away from all this. But if you’re stupid―which you’ve already proven you’re committed to―just know this. It’s not going to end well. They’ll find you. They’ll torture you. And maybe, maybe they’ll kill you.” He gazed at Walker. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Walker took a slurp of beer and set the empty can on the table.
“Tell us everything you know, Don. Or it’ s you the end won’t go well for.”
“I might be old, but I’m not brittle. I’ll die first. I know they’re coming. They might be late, but I know they’re coming.”
Nate shifted in his chair. Walker and Oliver had covered their tracks. But that wouldn’t last. They wouldn’t stay hidden forever. They’d be caught soon enough. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. Nodded at Oliver.
“It’s time. Bring in the interrogator.”
Oliver departed.
Don’s eyes lifted. They were hard. Tired.
“You guys aren’t capable of this,” he said. “It’s not in you.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind, Don. Make all your wrongs right and help us.”
“Huh. One last noble act? No. I’ll take my chances.”
Walker’s Zippo clacked open. A flame burst. A puff of smoke rolled. A long silence fell.
Nate reflected. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? He rubbed the gold cross of Jesus under his shirt. The one Jeanine gave him. She was a gorgeous woman turned into a hideous monster. A life taken, one of millions, because of guys like Don. Part of a bunch of men and women who thought it was up to them what was best for the world. It was unfathomable. Sadistic. Evil. Unbearable.
“Having doubts?” Don said with a smirk. “Perhaps you should …”
The stairs outside creaked. The door opened. Oliver stepped inside. He had a leash in one hand. He was tugging someone behind him.
Nate watched Don’s eyes enlarge. Chill bumps popped up on the man’s arms.
“What is that?” he said, recoiling in his chair.
A heavyset boy about five feet tall lumbered in. His brown hair was thick and his face veiny. He had thick forearms bulging underneath s short sleeved striped shirt. His tennis shoelaces were untied.
Nate smiled.
“Don, meet Louie. Louie, eat Don.”
“Num num,” the boy said.
CHAPTER 10
-Institute, WV-
The van rumbled over the parking lot and made its final stop by the gate. The driver signed off on a clipboard and they were on their way. Henry glanced over his shoulder and he wasn’t the only one. He wondered what would happen to the zombies in the rehab. Who would replace him? Did I even accomplish anything?
He turned back. Tori was staring at him. He smiled. She looked away.
“Bawk,” Rudy said, grabbing his shoulder. “How’ve you been?”
“Not now, Rudy,” he said, looking away. “Give me a minute.”
Rudy jammed earphones on his head.
“M’kay.”
A few miles later they hit the main road, cruised by Go-Mart and circled onto the interstate. Henry’s hands rested on the seat in front of him, clutching in and out. He hated not knowing where he was going. The van cruised down the interstate, over the Kanawha River and past Charleston. Henry didn’t see many boats on the river. Still, he thought of Stanley and his brother, Jimmy. They’d done plenty of fishing back when they were young. Before the Zombie Outbreak. Before the madness.
He dipped his head and closed his eyes. Tried to meditate. Tori and Rod started talking again in low voices. He opened his eyes just as they passed Exit #1 Mink Shoals on Interstate 79. They were headed north.
“Rod,” he said, leaning forward, “Are you sure you don’t know where we’re going?”
“What?” Rod’s brows lifted under his shaved head. “Ah, no. No idea.”
“Ask them,” he said.
“Phfft … they ain’t telling,” Rod said. He put his arm over the seat where Tori was sitting. “And I ain’t asking.”
“Well, can you ask them how long it’s going to be? Hours? Days?”
“W
hy, you need a potty break?”
Tori giggled.
“No,” Henry said. He slid back into his seat.
The next sixty minutes was torture. He’d been up and down this road at least a hundred times. Outside, the leaves were turning on the tall hilltops. Bright reds and oranges mixed with whites and yellows. There was a little purple in there too. His mother had loved traveling this time of year. She’d talk the whole time about how pretty it was.
He laid his head back and tried to rest his eyes. It had been a long enough night. He needed some rest. There was no idea what to expect. He was trapped. Trapped in a world of the living dead.
All he’d wanted to do was help the zombies. Or help his stepfather, Stanley rather, find a cure. But somehow everything he did was turned inside out. The zombies needed to be put in the grave. Keeping them alive was the sickest thing. But what he thought didn’t matter.
He cozied up by the window.
CPWWSZH. That had been Nate McDaniel’s last text to him. His college friend was dead. The most famous man in the world a murderer. Henry hadn’t given it much thought lately, but a crappy world had gotten crappier ever since. At least in his world it had. No, he was pretty sure Nate had been on to something. His friend had been as sharp as he was lucky. Henry unjumbled it in his mind. WHSWPCZ. World Humanitarian Society World Population Control … Zombies.
He shuddered in his hoodie and drifted off.
A rough hand shook him.
“Hey Bawk.”
He was half asleep.
Rudy shook him again.
“Hey, Bawk,” Rudy said in a quiet voice.
“What?” he said, blinking his eyes.
Rudy had a silly look on his fuzzy face. He glanced over at Tori.
“So,” he grinned, “tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“You know. About last night.” Rudy made claws with his hands and mewed. “The kitty cat fight. Was it hot?”
Henry jammed his foot on Rudy’s hip and shoved him off the bench seat.
“Hey!” the driver yelled. “What’s going on back there?”
“Nothing.” Rudy popped back into his seat. “I just slipped off the bench is all.”
“That man’s a fool,” Rod said.
Henry could feel Tori’s eyes on him. He didn’t give in. Instead he gazed through the window. There were cattle in the hills. Maybe there were some zombies too. A few minutes later he fell back asleep.
Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3 Page 4