Life of the Dead Box Set [Books 1-5]

by Urban, Tony

  “Where the fuck is he?” Mitch asked.

  “Probably dead.” Another zombie fell. For the first time, doubt had crept into his mind. Saw thought he might lose this battle and that didn’t sit well with him. He motioned to Casper who had been guarding the door where the hostages were being kept. “Grab one of them and bring them out here.”

  “Who?” Casper called.

  “I don’t fucking care. A woman.”

  Casper disappeared into the building and emerged a moment later with the old hag who’d ratted out the shooter. Casper held her by her long hair with one hand and had a pistol pressed against the soft flesh under her chin with the other.

  “You wait here,” Saw told Mitch as he stepped into the open. He went to Casper and the woman. The shooting had stopped, for the moment. “Give her to me,” he told Casper and the man shoved her toward him.

  Delphine stumbled in the snow and went down on her hands and knees. She began to push herself up but Saw stepped on her hand. He felt a few subtle pops as her fingers broke.

  “Whoever’s out there shooting.” He glanced in the direction of the shots. “For every one of my zombies you kill from here on out, I’m killing one of your people. And if my math’s right, your numbers’ll run out long before mine do.”

  Saw stood over her, his pistol pointed down at the back of her head. “So, how’s about you come out and we settle this man to man?”

  He waited. Nothing. But no shooting either so that was a plus. “Come on now, mate. This old girl’s getting cold laying in the snow like she is.”

  Saw stared ahead trying to see the shooter, anything that would give him up, but found nothing. Then he caught movement to his right. A man emerged from behind a shed. He held a pistol and it was aimed at Saw.

  “Thanks for joining us. Now toss me that gun of yours.”

  The man shook his head. “I dddd - don’t think I will.”

  Christ, what a bunch of misfits, Saw thought. It was hardly the best of the best that had survived the apocalypse. “If you’re wise you will, mate. There’s three of us.” He looked to Mitch, then Casper, then back to the man. “And one of you. Be smart now, won’t you?”

  Buck looked at them, his head swiveling around, taking it all in, but he didn’t lower the gun.

  “If you want me to kill this old girl to prove I mean business, I will. Then her blood’s on you. Is that what you want?”

  Buck took another step closer. “YYYY - You shoot her, I shoot you.”

  “I’d like to see you try that, nigger,” Casper said, his voice dripping with hate.

  Saw saw Buck’s eyes change. Where there was something that could pass for courage before, now there was fury. “Aw, fook.”

  In a quick motion Buck spun away from Saw and dropped to his knees. Casper shot but he was aiming for where the man had been standing, not at the new, low profile. Before he could readjust, Buck fired.

  The bullet hit Casper in the hollow between his collar bones. At first it was a black spec against his white skin but then blood gushed out like water from a hole in a dam. Casper tried to plug it with his finger but the blood kept coming.

  Saw realized everyone was looking at Casper dying on his feet. He lifted his gun away from Delphine’s head and pointed it at the stuttering shooter, and pulled the trigger. Buck never saw the bullet coming before it punctured the side of his head and sent him to the ground.

  Wim winced as Buck went down. He admired the man for having the courage to walk into that scenario, but then again it hadn’t worked out too well for him.

  Earlier, when he looked through the scope he’d seen Wayne at the older man’s side and realized it had all been a set up. And, with a sickening feeling in his gut, he understood that this was all his fault. He’d brought the boy into camp against all of Doc’s rules and against common sense. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Only now it had led to even more death in a world where the living were already in short supply.

  He couldn’t dwell on it now though. There’d be plenty of time to beat himself up later if he survived. Now, he needed to fix the mess he’d created.

  There were eight zombies roaming through the area. A ninth rose before Wim’s eyes as Casper’s eyes went blank and he took a shuffling step forward. Wim thought he seemed like as good a choice as any. He watched through the scope as he shot the newly undead man in the head and put him down for good.

  Wim reloaded and shot, reloaded and shot, as fast as he could maneuver the bolt action rifle. Nine zombies became three in less than a minute.

  Mina stood in the now open doorway and flinched as another zombie was killed. She watched as Saw peered around the camp, trying to find the source of the bullets but having little luck.

  “I’ve had about enough of this,” he said. “I don’t think this hunk of rock’s really worth fighting for anyway.” He motioned to Mitch.

  “What do you say, Mitchy? Anything here worth taking?”

  Mitch shook his head. “It’s too damned cold here. We’ve got most of the guns. All that leaves are canned goods and farm animals.”

  “I don’t think we got time or the manpower to lift a couple piggies into the trucks anyway.”

  Mitch nodded in agreement.

  “Then let’s get the hell outta ‘ere.”

  “What about her?” Mitch pointed to Delphine who still knelt in the snow, clutching her crushed hand.

  “Her?” Saw stared down at her. “You asked me earlier, when I was done killing, that I’d give you this island back.”

  Delphine peered up at him and nodded.

  “Aw right then. But there’s one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not done killing.”

  Saw shot her in the face, the bullet blasting through her eye. Her weathered, wrinkled skin contorted into a grimace and she fell into the snow.

  Mina turned away from the sight of it and looked at the dozen or so cowering men and women in the room. The faces of strangers. She doubted she’d said a hundred words combined to all of them put together. Could she really stay here with them? On this island overrun with zombies? Even if they somehow managed to kill the monsters, it was only a matter of time before someone else showed up to take or destroy what they had. And it was obvious fighting wasn’t this lot’s strong suit.

  “I think you managed to find ya’self a group of people even more worthless than you, Birdie. And that’s saying’ somethin’,” her daddy’s voice said.

  Saw jumped onto the truck’s running board and leaned into the cab.

  “Gonna be just you and a bunch of chickens. A flock of birdies waiting to get picked off by a cat.”

  “I’m no chicken, Daddy,” Mina said.

  A woman to her right looked at her, her face a mask of fear and confusion. “What did you say?”

  Mina ignored her. She stood up, head high. She was tired of cowering. She ran out of the building just as Saw emerged from the truck. In his hand, he held a white propane tank, the kind people used on their grills. Taped to the side of it was a road flare. He struck the flare and the light of the fire turned his face red. He looked every bit the Devil.

  Mina watched the man throw the heavy tank with one arm. It soared past her and she could see it clear as day. There was even a blue label that read ‘Bernzomatic’. The tank hit the ground and skidded across the snow before coming to a stop in front of the building where she’d been hiding moments ago. She realized she had a choice, but only seconds to come to a decision. She could run to the tank and try to move it away, or she could run from it and let the man who attacked their camp finish what he’d started.

  She heard men and women inside the building shouting, but they were too scared to push past the fire and escape. Instead, they stayed where they were.

  They aren’t worth risking my life over. Mina ran from the fiery blaze, watching as Saw aimed his gun at the tank and shot. It exploded with a roar and made her stumble, almost falling. The yelling ins
ide the building transformed into panicked, agonized shrieks as the wood building was set ablaze.

  Saw climbed into the truck and sat down behind the wheel.

  Don’t go. Not yet. “Better hurry, Birdie.”

  Mina knew her daddy was right for once. She ran to the truck as Saw began to back it away from the camp. She picked up the pace and caught it before he could make the turn. Mina slammed her hand against the driver’s side door.

  Saw peered down from above her. He rolled the window down. “Mina, was it?”

  She nodded. “Are you going somewhere safe?”

  Saw glanced over at Mitch. He flashed a leering grin that showed his black, broken teeth as he turned back to Mina. “Everywhere’s safe when I’m around, love. Ain’t that right, Mitchy?”

  “Sure is.”

  Mina stared up at him. The man was a revolting sack of muscle and rage. He was the type of person she’d have crossed the street to avoid before the plague, but the world had changed now and she had a strong feeling inside that this new world was made for men like Saw.

  Mina took one more glance back at the men and women who called the Ark home. Most died in the fire. Zombies tore through the ones who managed to escape the blaze and the humans were too weak or too dumb to even fight back.

  She looked up at Saw. He still smiled. “Will you take me with you?”

  The door opened. Saw extended his hand. “All you had to do was ask.”

  Mina grabbed his palm and he hoisted her up with one arm, with the ease of lifting a pillow. She got her footing on the door frame and Saw spun her around so she fell into his lap. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. It was sickeningly sweet, like rotten meat. But when she felt his strong hands on her thin waist as he lifted her over him and sat her in the seat, she felt protected. She realized she wasn’t afraid any more. And that’s all she wanted out of life.

  Take that, daddy.

  Wim thought he might have lost his mind. He’d just watched Mina voluntarily join the man who’d attacked them. Who’d set loose zombies. Who’d killed Delphine right in front of them. He didn’t see how it could be real, but as the truck backed away, then did a U-turn in the snowy landscape before heading toward the gate, he was left with no other choice but to believe it.

  He didn’t care about killing more zombies. He only needed to find Ramey and be gone from this awful place. Away from this land that made people do crazy, terrible things. He thought again, as he had so often in the past, that he’d been right all those years to stay on his farm, away from society. If this was how people treated each other, he wanted no part of it.

  Wim jogged toward camp, closing the remaining distance in less than a minute. A man from the Ark grabbed his arm as he passed by.

  “Did you see what happened, Wim?”

  Wim jerked his arm free and didn’t answer. He kept going, ignoring the people and the zombies. Let them fight each other. He wanted no part of it any more.

  Ramey saw Wim storm into the clinic. She was two buildings away and ran after him.

  “Wim!” She called out. But the door had closed.

  She wanted to get to him before he found her father. She didn’t want him to see what Doc had done. The things he had created. The shame she felt over being his daughter burned a hole inside her and she couldn’t imagine Wim knowing that the man who had created her, was also responsible for so much evil and madness.

  Ramey passed the first building. Halfway there. As she moved beyond the second, four zombies staggered into her path. One of them was on fire, the flames licking at his clothing. The smell of burning hair assaulted Ramey’s nose. The other zombies were uninjured, aside from being dead.

  She knew she had no weapons to fight them, and that running was her best choice, but her pulse was thrumming in her ears and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry. She wanted to kill them.

  A zombie in athletic shorts, a tank top, and sweatband lunged for her. Ramey hopped to the side and avoided its grasp. She shoved it in the back as it stumbled past her and it did a face plant into the snow.

  The other three came toward her. You’re being stupid. Run away. But still she didn’t run.

  The lone female zombie in the quartet was a sixty-something year old who was shaped like a bowling pin and whose gray hair was wound up in a tight perm. She snarled at Ramey and swatted with French manicured nails. Ramey jumped back, out of her reach. She scanned the area around her, looking for anything she could use to battle the creatures. There was nothing. She backed away, retreating around the corner of the building. Searching.

  Someone had been installing a brick facade on the building when the snow started to fly. A few bags of mortar mix leaned against the door, along with a two-foot-tall stack of bricks. It wasn’t much but it was something. Ramey grabbed a brick.

  The bowling pin zombie shuffled around the corner and Ramey was ready for her. She slammed the brick into the woman’s face, connecting with her brow. There was a crack that reminded Ramey of peeling a hardboiled egg and the dead woman’s skin split open revealing white skull underneath.

  The zombie blinked. Then she began to lean backward, slowly at first but speeding up as the momentum built until she crashed against the building and slithered down the side. When she hit the ground, she remained motionless.

  The burning zombie was at Ramey’s shoulder. She could feel the heat coming off it. And the smell. God, it was sickening, like a crematorium crossed with roadkill on a hot, August afternoon.

  Ramey swung the brick and hit it in the jaw. It groaned and a few broken teeth spilled from its mouth, along with a slimy trail of black drool. She hit it again, this time catching it above the ear. Her fingers were singed by the flames and the zombie went down so quick that she fell on top of it.

  She felt the fire against her body and rolled off. Her jackets smoldered and she dropped the brick so she could beat at it with her hands.

  In her distraction, she didn’t realize there was a zombie behind her until it grabbed hold of her chestnut colored hair. The zombie dragged Ramey backward and she skidded along the snow. She was away from the bricks now. Helpless.

  In front of her, the fitness zombie approached. But something was different. Now, in his hand, he held a small trowel. As he stepped toward Ramey he kept raising it up and stabbing it down repeatedly.

  Ramey didn’t know if it was trying to use the tool as a weapon or if it was some sort of bizarre muscle memory. Maybe he’d been a brick-layer in between running marathons. But either way, he was getting closer.

  She tried to yank herself free from the zombie that held her hair but its fingers were entwined in her long locks. Ramey changed course and did a 180 so that she was no longer on her ass, but on her knees.

  Ramey could see the zombie that held her was wearing flannel pajamas with tiny footballs printed all over them. Her head was at groin level and that gave her an idea. Ramey didn’t know if crotch shots worked on zombies, but it was worth a try.

  She punched as hard as she could manage. Her fist sunk deep into the creature’s groin. The sensation reminded Ramey of pounding out bread dough.

  And somewhat to her surprise, it worked. The zombie released her hair as it stumbled backward. Ramey turned away from it, ready to retrieve the brick. But she turned right in time for the zombie with the trowel to swipe the blade down, into her face.

  The metal sliced into her cheek, cutting a deep gash. She felt a hard jolt as the trowel hit her cheekbone. As the pain rushed through her, she jerked her head which sent the tool skidding to the side. An L-shaped chunk of flesh hung from her face and she thought it felt extra cold as the air hit the wound.

  The zombie fell into her, knocking her back, crashing into the building. The back of her head hit the wall and everything blazed bright white, whiter than the snow. She lost herself for a moment but came to when she landed on the ground, and the zombie landed on top of her.

  It belched a mouthful of putrid, rotting air into
her face and she thought she might puke from the smell of it. It lunged toward her, but Ramey reached up and caught its headband with her thumb. The material stretched, stretched so far, she thought it might have enough leeway to still bite her, but finally it stopped. Its head bounced forward and back, forward and back. Every time it came close its vile breath sent new waves of nausea rushing through her.

  In the fall, the fitness zombie had dropped the trowel and now Ramey strained to reach it with her free hand. The exertion, coupled with the blow to her head, kept making her vision go fuzzy. Her thoughts came slow, like she was half-asleep and part of her just wanted to close her eyes and make it all stop.

  But she knew doing that meant death and she wasn’t about to die yet. She tried one more time to grab the trowel, her fingertips glancing across the frigid metal. Just a little further. She stretched as far as possible with the zombie pinning her down. She touched the trowel again, could pinch the metal between her index finger and thumb. Now she was able to pull it closer. She flipped it around and grabbed the wooden handle.

  The next time the zombie’s head bounced toward her, Ramey was waiting. She rammed the trowel into its mouth and didn’t stop pushing until it hit bone. The corners of its mouth were sliced open and the blade jutted out from between its teeth like it was chewing on a cigar.

  The creature flailed with its arms, now less interested in the hot meal beneath it than the tool stuck in its mouth. Ramey took advantage of the distraction and pushed it off her.

  She rolled away from it, then bounced to her feet. That strange feeling like she was floating in a pool returned and she held her arms out at her sides to steady herself. Get it together, Ramey. If you go down now its game over. She held as still as possible until the feeling faded. Good. Now forget about the zombies and find Wim.

  She ignored the fitness zombie which thrashed on the ground, and the pajama-wearing zombie which was again stumbling toward her, its injured nuts forgotten. There was no time for them. There was only time for Wim.