Dead South Series (Book 1): Dead South

by Bohannon, Zach

  Jon’s eyes went wide.

  “Shit!”

  He dived into the grass behind the shed and slid down the slight hill there, letting go of the assault rifle and losing it in the brush in the process. He found cover as the grenade exploded. The explosion sent a ringing boom into his ears, even though he had covered them when he’d taken cover.

  Metal shards landed around him, and Jon waited before looking up. The grenade had not only blown a hole in the side of the shed, but also decimated the corpse of the guard.

  Jon’s ears rang, and the blast had disoriented him, but he managed to stand. He heard a door slam at the back of his cabin and watched a man dart from it, holding guns in each hand. He only caught a brief glimpse of the bald man with a goatee before the man aimed a shotgun in Jon’s direction, forcing Jon to hit the ground again. The gunfire lasted for only a moment before stopping, and then Jon got up. He rose slowly, assuming the man had run away but not sure.

  Drawing his pistol, Jon climbed up next to the half-destroyed shed and looked in the direction the man had gone, prepared to go after him.

  But then he looked at the cabin and saw the orange light through the broken windows. Smoke billowed up out of the chimney and through the same windows, as well as the open back door.

  15

  Jon jogged out in front of the shed, where he had a view behind the house to where the arsonist had run off to. Then he glanced back to his house.

  Goddamnit.

  Chasing after the man would have to wait. Jon instead ran to the front door of the cabin.

  It remained open, smoke swelling out of it and clouding the open air. Jon pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose, and entered the cabin.

  The fire was worse than he’d anticipated. The man must have lit more than just one room for it to be spreading as fast as it was. Jon looked around the kitchen and into the dining room, watching his curtains and cloth sofa burn. But his mind was only on one thing.

  He hurried through the kitchen and down the hallway toward his bedroom. Along the way, he dodged flames and maneuvered through the smoke. As he made his way back to the bedroom, the smoke only intensified, and the temperature increased. Arriving at his bedroom, he found the door was closed.

  Jon tapped the metal handle, quickly pulling his hand away as he felt the burn on his skin. “Shit!”

  He pulled his mechanics gloves from his pocket and positioned himself with his back against the wall. He tapped the knob a couple more times to ensure the gloves would help prevent him getting burned. He then turned the handle and pushed the door open, at the same time diving sideways into the hallway.

  Fire exploded from the door in a backdraft, escaping with a hiss and then a boom. Jon lay on his belly, covering his head with his hands. Even through his closed eyes, he saw the orange glow of the flames. Felt the heat swelter inside the hallway. He waited for several moments before finally opening his eyes and picking his head up. The fire had grown in the hall, but nothing on Jon burned and the doorway appeared clear now. He pushed himself up to his feet and hurried through the door.

  His bed sheets were burning, the orange glow of the flames covering his room. His eyes immediately went to the chest, which sat open against the wall. Jon’s eyes went wide, his heart pumping faster.

  Jon took off his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, swinging it down onto the fire to try to put it out. He did this several times, fanning the flames around him but getting rid of the fire inside of the chest. He then tossed his jacket down and got onto his knees, looking into the chest.

  Everything had burned, turning to black. He picked through the ashes, looking for the cigar box and the picture of his family. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t find the box at this point, but he continued looking anyway.

  “Come on, goddamnit!”

  Giving up searching the chest, Jon searched around the chest, checking under the sheets and under the bed. Still, he found nothing.

  As more sweat poured down his face from both the fire and the growing idea that all physical reminders of his family had been lost, Jon clutched his curly black hair. He held it tight, feeling like he could pull every lock of hair out and not feel a thing. But then he looked up, his teeth grinding, and his eyes narrowed. He let go of his hair and made a fist, knowing he could have crushed an orange with his grip if he'd held one at the moment.

  Outside of the room, he heard a crash, drawing his attention away. He got to his feet and hurried out into the hallway. Pieces of the living room ceiling lay on the ground, the fire continuing to crawl all around the walls and bring the house down.

  Jon knew time was running out.

  The picture was gone, along with the ammunition he’d kept in the chest. The man had also gotten away with the shotgun and rifle he’d left on the bed. There was nothing he could do about what had been stolen. He had to get out of the cabin now if he wanted to keep his life. And he needed to keep his life if he wanted to confront the bastard who’d burned down the cabin and destroyed the most meaningful thing he had left in this shithole of a world.

  Jon looked back at the bedroom one last time before covering his face again. He then made his way back through the smoke and flames, heading out the back door again.

  16

  281 Days After the Outbreak

  The deer thought it was the only living thing in the woods.

  It was wrong.

  Jon stared down the barrel of the rifle and focused on his breathing to keep his aim steady. It had been days since he’d come across a deer. Rabbits and squirrels had been common finds, likely because it was easier for them to hide from infected people. But deer were becoming more scarce, aside from coming across the occasional carcass that had already been ravaged by the undead.

  He couldn’t let this one get away.

  But he essentially had one shot. Not only would the rifle’s blast scare the deer away, but it would surely draw the attention of any zombies in the area. It could be several more days before he saw another deer, and he needed to take this one back to his family.

  Licking his lips, Jon floated his finger over the trigger.

  I got you.

  As he rested his finger on the trigger, something screamed, causing Jon to jump and pull his head away from the scope. Following the sound, he found two zombies running toward the deer. Jon readied the rifle again, but by the time he’d looked through the sight again, the deer had already taken off. He found it, running in a zig-zag through the woods, but trying to shoot it at this point would be pointless. It would only make it easier for the dead things to catch it, and if it came down to choosing between them and the deer, Jon would pick the side of the deer every time.

  He pulled away from the scope again, nearly tossing the gun down in frustration.

  “Goddamnit!”

  Jon arrived back at the cabin later in the afternoon after having been gone a couple of hours. He held two dead rabbits in one of his hands, the rifle in his other. He hadn’t seen another deer for the rest of the time he’d been out hunting.

  As he walked up the driveway, he forced a smile onto his face. He was frustrated, but his wife and son didn’t need to know that. Life had been hard enough for all of them, and Jon wanted to continue trying to be a strong head of the family. Stepping over the alarms he’d set up using fishing line and bells from Christmas tree ornaments they’d had at the cabin, he stepped up the porch and went to the front door. He hoped that he could eventually build a fence around at least a portion of the yard so the family could spend more time outside. Jon would love to come home from these hunting trips and see his wife and son playing out in the yard. One day, he hoped.

  Jon stuck the key in the hole and opened the door. Spencer was sitting on the sofa and perked up as Jon entered. But when he saw that his father was only holding two rabbits, he slumped his shoulders and fell back into the couch.

  “Hey, guys,” Jon said, trying to be chipper.

  “Rabbit again?” Spencer asked.

&
nbsp; Jon shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. There just isn’t much else out there. I’m sure I’ll find another deer soon enough.”

  The promise didn’t help his son’s disappointment. Jon had heard it before in the previous days, but kept the smile on his face and shrugged it off.

  Carrie sat on a barstool at the bar by the kitchen, staring off toward the refrigerator. Jon walked up behind her and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t look at Jon, holding her blank stare at the kitchen. Jon could feel the uneasy vibe coming off of her, but ignored his urge to ask her about it. She then pulled her pendulum away from her neck and held it up over her open palm. He definitely didn’t want to talk to her now. He was growing tired of her depending on that damn thing for answers. It wasn’t logical.

  He took the rabbits out back, where he would skin them and prepare to cook them over an open fire, but came back inside before he got that far. He went into the living room and sat on the recliner, leaning over onto his knees as he looked at his disappointed son.

  “You know, maybe part of the reason I haven’t been able to catch us a deer lately is because I’m out there trying by myself,” Jon said.

  After saying this, he saw Carrie finally turn to look at him out of the corner of her eye. Spencer perked up again on the couch, sitting up.

  “What would you think about learning how to shoot?” Jon asked.

  “Really?” Spencer asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

  Jon looked over at Carrie to check her demeanor. Nothing had changed; the same flat look still lay on her face. He then looked back at Spencer and shrugged.

  “Why not? I mean, it doesn’t mean that you’re going to start coming to hunt with me immediately. Your mom and I will have to talk about that, and you’re going to have to show me you’re ready. But you’re more than old enough to start learning to shoot and how to protect yourself and your mother.”

  “Awesome! When can we start? It’s so boring in here.”

  Jon laughed. “Maybe tomorrow, buddy.”

  “Alright! Did you hear that, Mom?”

  Carrie glared at Jon for a moment before getting up off the stool and marching back to the bedroom, slamming the door without saying a word. Jon swallowed, seeing his son’s expression change. Before Spencer could get upset, Jon reassured him.

  “Don’t worry, buddy. It’s okay with your mom. She’s just stressed right now.”

  But Jon knew deep down that there was more than that going on with Carrie, and he could only hope it would pass in time.

  17

  He stood there and watched it fucking burn.

  He waited for a fury of emotion to hit him, but all that came was anger. Jon could find another place to live. Lord knew there were enough abandoned houses in the area. But he couldn’t replace the memories. This cabin had been his home since he, Carrie, and Spencer had come there after the world had gone to hell. And more than that, he couldn’t replace the photo, the last visual reminder he'd had of what Carrie and Spencer looked like.

  That brought forth a new emotion, a fear. What if Jon forgot their faces? What if he woke up one morning and couldn’t find the images of Carrie and Spencer in his mind? He imagined himself scrambling through drawers in search of the photograph, only to not find it. Tearing the sheets off of his bed and flipping the chest of drawers over in a confused rage. So, he made a decision at that moment.

  If he ever forgot their faces, he would go to the only friend that could guide him back to them.

  Jon pulled the handgun from his waist and held it up in front of his face.

  Placing the gun back into its holster, he gazed again at the burning cabin. The sun had just about set, the orange flames illuminating a new night. A night where Jon would have nowhere safe to sleep.

  He’d accepted that he could do nothing about the cabin. Unless clouds appeared overhead within the next hour or so and brought with them a rainstorm, the cabin was going to burn to the ground. So, he began considering his next moves.

  Finding a new place to stay became his top priority. The fire would potentially draw zombies or raiders to the area, and there was always the chance that people from the camp these men hailed from would come back. For all Jon knew, the asshole who'd run off could be going to get back-up. He doubted it, especially since the man had burned down the cabin in a fashion that left him little to come back for, but it remained a possibility. Jon wasn’t going to pretend like he understood why people did what they did. He couldn’t even explain why he spent most of his days scouring the countryside and bashing in the brains of the dead.

  Without his bike, he wasn’t going to make it very far, but changing out the ignition coil was a quick job. He made his way down the driveway to the road. When he arrived at his bike, he stared at the dead body of the guard and shook his head. Then he disengaged the kickstand and pushed his bike back up the hill.

  Jon took it up to the end of the driveway, stopping between the burning cabin and the remains of the shed. As long as the cabin burned, he’d have about all the light he needed to repair his bike. But he wouldn’t need that long. The cabin would burn for at least another hour, probably much longer.

  He went to the shed and simply walked in at the corner, the door no longer needed. In more light, he could assess the damage and discover if anything inside was salvageable. For now, all he needed were his tools.

  Jon found his metal toolbox lying underneath a pile of debris on the ground inside of the shed. He removed it and set it down next to his bike. As he worked on making the repair, Jon thought of Carrie and Spencer. Carrying the fear in his mind of forgetting their faces, he remembered the day that picture had been taken on the beach. The thoughts distracted him and kept his hands moving as he worked in the reflected light of the ever-growing flames.

  After getting the old ignition coil off, Jon took a moment to stare at the moon. Carrie had loved astrology, often reading books and listening to podcasts on the subject in her downtime. She’d teased him sometimes when he’d acted in specific ways, saying things like, “You’re such a Cancer,” even though he didn’t know what the hell that meant. But he knew the moon was essential to astrologists, and Carrie had paid close attention to its different phases and even worn a moon necklace from time to time. The moon now stood as a reminder of her. And when it sat big and full in the sky, Jon knew she was looking down on him.

  Getting back to the work before him, his mind wandered to less pleasant places. He set the new ignition coil in place while thinking of the man who’d destroyed the photo and lit the cabin ablaze. Jon had barely gotten a look at the man, making him wonder how he would find him. All he knew was that the fit man was bald and had a goatee. It would be difficult to find him, but the goal gave Jon a new purpose. He’d vowed to find the man and kill him, and the only thing that would stop his pursuit would be if he stopped breathing.

  With the new coil in place, Jon swung his leg over the saddle and readied to start the bike.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  The engine roared to life, and he revved it a few times. For the first time that evening, he smiled. Fixing the bike had been like mending a dear friend. More than that, really. The bike had become an extension of him. Losing it would be almost like losing one of his arms.

  Not wanting to make more noise, he shut the bike off and began gathering his things. He could only take a single bag with him and the weapons, so he’d have to come back later for other things, like his tools. He decided that he’d more than likely come back the next morning. The fire would be out by then, and he could move his shit to his new place before the asshole came back, or before some other raiders happened upon the cabin.

  As he gathered his things, Jon heard a noise. It had come from the edge of the driveway, so he drew his gun, hiding behind his bike and keeping the pistol fixed toward the road.

  A light flashed three times, and Jon firmed his grip on the pistol.

  “Don’t shoot,” a male voice said. “If you’re armed, please hold your fir
e.”

  Jon remained quiet, his gun still aimed down the driveway.

  “We’re from a nearby camp,” the man said. “We come here in peace. We’re going to leave our weapons here at the end of the driveway to prove that to you, but we’re coming up.”

  Jon kept his sights on the end of the driveway as three figures walked up. Jon stayed in position, ready to fire if he had to.

  “Don’t take another step!” Jon called, giving the seemingly innocent intruders a chance while also giving up his position.

  “Hold on, guys,” a female voice said.

  Jon furrowed his brow. The woman’s voice sounded familiar.

  She stepped forward, and Jon kept his gun aimed, but held a looser grip on it now. The woman raised her hands as she stepped into the glow of the fire.

  Jon lowered the gun, staring at Brooke’s familiar face.

  “Good to see you again.”

  18

  Jon returned the gun to its holster as Brooke stared at the house, her mouth open. Behind her stood two other men, including Terrence.

  “What are you doing here?” Jon asked.

  “We happened to be in the area and saw the smoke. My God, are you alright?” she asked.

  “I’m a hell of a lot better than them.”

  Jon glanced down at the body near his bike and Brooke followed his gaze. He’d thrown a blanket over it, the body being disfigured by the grenade blast, but Brooke had seen the other bodies on her way up the driveway.

  “These men are from the camp I told you about. The people who’ve been coming to Hope’s Dawn and bullying us around.”

  “Do you know where this camp is?”

  Brooke shrugged. “Of course.”

  “Tell me.”

  Brooke crossed her arms and studied Jon’s eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to go there and kill the asshole who burned my cabin down.”