The Undead Survivor Series (Book 2): Undead and the City

by Radke, K. E.

  Three rotting corpses were left, but only one was blocking the exit. Noah relayed the information to Lincoln not sure which direction they were going to head in and positioned himself in the middle of the hall ready to shoot all of them.

  “Wyatt, you have your gun?” Lincoln inquired gruffly, which was the only way he knew how to show concern.

  There were several beats of silence before Wyatt answered with a muffled, “Yep.” Anger, pain and grief were all thrust into the single word. He didn’t bother saying goodbye or peeking over the bed. Not one argument left his mouth over the dangers of leaving him behind barely able to walk. The man was trying to cope with a future without his wife and trying to keep the unspoken death wish from crawling out of his mouth.

  Lincoln shut the door behind him without another word. He rolled his shoulders eyeing the ghouls in the vicinity. He shot the one near the entrance to their hall and trekked in that direction.

  Noah limped beside him silently before he blurted out the question, “You’re going to go see your mom, right? To see if she’s still alive?”

  Not affected by the subject Lincoln said automatically, “She wouldn’t recognize me if I did.”

  “Of course she would. You’re her son.”

  “No,” Lincoln said adamantly. “She hasn’t recognized me for the last few years.”

  “But you said you visited her.”

  “I do. I watch her from a distance. If she’s having a good day, I pretend to be a stranger and we play cards.”

  “Bro,” Noah stopped walking. “You came all the way out here just to watch your mom? Let’s go check and see if she’s alive.”

  “Oh, she’s alive,” Lincoln said matter-of-factly. Noah had no idea how tough his mother was, not even the apocalypse could kill her. They reached the beginning of the corridor and they peered around the corner finding it empty. The second corner had one milling around and Noah sliced its head off with one quick swipe of the machete.

  “I need to get one of those,” Lincoln murmured impressed.

  “But you don’t really know if she’s alive,” Noah said unable to drop the subject.

  “It’s my mother and I say she’s alive.”

  “Well then let’s go say hi.”

  Lincoln sighed as they gazed around the living area before stepping out in the open, “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  “But you know she didn’t mean it. Who wants to be left to die if they have a chance to survive? If she doesn’t want to come, then we can leave her. But you have the chance to say goodbye,” Noah said sadly leaving words unsaid with his shoulders slightly lower than they were before.

  An emotional charge built between them. The moment one friend asks the other ‘what’s wrong’ to find out the deeper meaning behind their conversation. Lincoln pursed his lips together and hoped the moment would pass as quickly as possible. He peeked at Noah through the corners of his eyes as they treaded softly to a door off to the side in the living area that had a key card entry.

  Taking a knife and shoving it between the wall and cover, Lincoln pulled all the wiring out and tried the doorknob. He grinned slipping inside and held the door open for Noah. The cleaning closet had nothing but cleaning supplies. Pocketing a bottle of hand sanitizer he signaled he was ready to go.

  “Hopefully it doesn’t take long to find a wheelchair, we’re burning daylight,” Lincoln mumbled about to exit the supply closet.

  “Some of that daylight should be used wisely. Like seeing family members they’ll never see again,” Noah prodded in a wise voice.

  “For the last time she will not recognize me. Drop. It.” Lincoln growled and clenched his teeth.

  “You’re already here!” Noah whispered harshly. “What kind of son leaves his mother to die? Family is important to Mexicans. And if you’re paying for this fancy place to keep her safe you care about your mom. So, let’s take a minute and go see if she’s alive. If she’s gone, you can at least say goodbye.” Noah tried to keep his tone hopeful for Lincoln’s sake, but he knew there was no way in hell the old woman survived.

  If Lincoln needed a little jab in the right direction, Noah had no problem riling him up. The tiniest shred of doubt spreads like wildfire inside a hopeful mind. People make stupid decisions on a whim and change their plans that could hinder progress. Any doubt left in Lincoln’s head needed to be annihilated before they left the building.

  “She’s. Not. Dead.” Lincoln clenched his jaw. A red tint crawled up his neck and seeped into his face.

  “Only one way to find out. She’d have to be a strong lady to stay alive in this,” Noah said with a hint of skepticism.

  Lincoln wrapped his hand around the AK to keep it from punching Noah in the face. His other hand white knuckled the doorknob and he burst through the door. His thunderous footsteps echoed in the cavernous living area. Two cannibals were shot in his path as he moved with purpose passed the floating staircase that separated the living areas.

  They headed for the identical hallway that reached the resident’s rooms on the opposite side of the building. One at a time they moved down the corridor at each corner, so one of them could check the front while the other watched their backs. The walls were painted with a brighter color scheme—before it’d been covered in blood.

  Bones crunched underneath their slow tread as they entered the corridor. Unlike the other side, that mimicked a hotel hallway with every door closed for privacy, doors were left wide open. Nothing about the massacre in front of them could instill a semblance of hope that Lincoln’s mother was alive and well.

  Some bodies were picked cleaned or torn open from their skulls, everything scooped out except for the maggots wiggling around. One person’s back had been torn apart, the entrails spewing out and zigzagging like roads on a map. Flies buzzed, and the usual rotting smell competed with the iron, metallic scent of the bloodbath. The viscous red liquid covered everything in sight.

  “It’s like a fucking war zone,” Noah whispered covering his nose and mouth with his shirt. Witnessing the carnage in front of him, Noah hoped Lincoln was ready to say goodbye to his mother. “Maybe this is where it all began, and it caught everyone off guard,” Noah tried to explain the slaughter in a consoling voice.

  “She’s alive,” Lincoln whispered with determination. “This side holds all the patients that need more attention. Easier prey,” he explained.

  Noah avoided eye contact and followed Lincoln until they stopped in front of a closed door near the end of the hallway. Lincoln stood silently in front of it and examined the massive indentations on the door smeared in blood. Evidence someone tried to break in.

  In a dead serious tone, Lincoln roughly said, “If you hurt my mom. I will kill you.” Not bothering to glance at Noah, he kept all his attention on the door in front of him and took a silent deep breath. Lifting his hand, he lightly knocked and gazed from right to left to see if the noise captured anything’s attention.

  No one answered for a full minute and Lincoln wiped his sweaty palms against his pant legs. He never gave up on the belief his mom could survive anything, and it was the first time he second-guessed himself. Knocking a little harder, he winced at the loud noise—basically giving away their location to anything lurking in the vicinity.

  Anxiety wrapped around him and squeezed the air out of his lungs. Silence answered his knock again and, in a panic, he tried the doorknob. “Mom?” He questioned not bothering to hide the dread in his voice. The door was locked and in a matter of seconds his foot kicked it open splintering the wood. Noah was in his peripheral vision frantically whispering and waving his arms.

  Breathing heavily, the ringing in his ears dissipated when he broke through the door. He peered inside unable to see the whole room and his voice sounded far away when he called out, “Mom?”

  One step at a time he cautiously treaded inside, passing the bathroom on the right. The area opened up and he stopped near the edge of the bed and smiled with relief.

  In the corner, on
the other side of the bed, his mother stared icily at him. She was dressed, but her bones protruded like she’d been a prisoner and starved for the last few weeks. Staggering backward a bit, she caught herself recoiling and stood up straight to ground herself.

  Light from the window casted over her and Lincoln’s eyes fell from her ashen face to the movement of her hands. Brandishing a huge knife, it glinted in the small stream of sunlight that filtered into the room, as she pulled it from behind her back.

  “What the serious fuck?” Noah whispered dumbfounded with his mouth wide open. How the woman managed to survive was beyond his comprehension.

  The initial shock of someone barging into her room disappeared from her face, and she snarled at Lincoln with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Breaking the silence she spit in a vicious tone, “I thought I killed you you son of a bitch!”

  Flying forward with the knife in her hand, she swiped it back and forth. She reached out trying to tear through anything in her way. The sudden attack triggered Noah’s defense mechanism and his hands wrapped around his gun. Lincoln pushed Noah back, and ferociously yelled, “Don’t you fucking hurt my mother!”

  Swerving out of the way, Lincoln caught his mother’s wrist before she drew blood. He gave it a little twist and took the knife away from her. A battle cry ripped from her lungs and she banged her other fist against Lincoln’s chest, “Let me go! Don’t you dare touch me you fucking asshole. Let me go! I’ll kill you again!”

  She thrashed against him using all her body weight, but Lincoln didn’t budge and handed the knife to Noah. As soon as she was unarmed he let go of her wrist and allowed her fists to fly. He bobbed and weaved a few times when she attempted to hit his face, but he took the brunt of it.

  Noah stepped back and spun around to try and shut the door the best he could. All the noise would attract unwanted visitors and Lincoln obviously needed a little more time to be reunited with his mother. Noah wedged his boot against the bottom of the door pushing against it to hold it in place.

  Losing the little energy she had, Lincoln’s mother fell against him wheezing and out of breath. He stood motionless until she eventually recoiled and leaned heavily against the wall, disgusted he was still alive.

  In a careful tone, Lincoln said, “Mom, its Lincoln. How long since you’ve eaten?”

  “Don’t you dare say his name. You have no right,” her voice was cold and malicious. Narrowing her eyes, she slapped Lincoln across the face without much power.

  Noah’s mouth fell open in shock and he couldn’t help blurting out, “Who does she think you are?”

  “My father,” Lincoln confessed not taking his eyes off his mother. She was capable of doing much worse and he wanted to be ready for it.

  “What the fuck did he do to her?” Noah whispered finally getting the door to stand up by itself.

  “Loved too many women while being married.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Lincoln’s mother caught sight of Noah ignoring their whole conversation. He hid behind Lincoln. Her eyes widened in understanding, and she tried to push Lincoln out of the way to get to Noah. Lincoln refused to budge and stood like a brick wall between them.

  “You brought one to flaunt in my face is that it?” she asked quietly in an icy demeanor. Grasping a fistful of Lincoln’s shirt, she tried to pull him to her level with a crazed glimmer radiating from her eyes, and promised slowly, “She will watch as I gut you.”

  “Mom—,” Lincoln grunted with pain as she stabbed a nail file into his arm. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”

  Noah’s head shot out from behind Lincoln and he stared at the nail file protruding from his arm. “Oh fuck! Your own mom just stabbed you! Jesus! I think your mom might be crazier than mine.”

  “No one knows how she gets so many or where she hides them,” Lincoln said lazily and let his guard down.

  The small distraction allowed her to bully Lincoln out of the way and get to Noah. Up against the door, Noah’s gaze fell to the skinny pointer finger jabbing at his chest.

  “You,” Lincoln’s mom’s eyes narrowed as she slowly scoured every part of him. “She’s an ugly one Peter.”

  “Mrs. Lincoln’s mom, I’m Noah. Lincoln’s friend.” His voice deepened with every word.

  She slapped him across the face, “Keep my son’s name out of your mouth whore.” Her narrowed eyes widened, and she took a step back, and then two. “A man,” she gasped, her hand flew to her mouth, partially covering it in shock. Lincoln didn’t try to stop her from retreating further into the room. All the color drained from her face as she gazed between the two of them. Horrified, her voice barely above whisper, “A man?”

  “Does she think that—,” Noah was cut off.

  “Yes,” Lincoln sighed.

  “You fruitcake! Get the fuck out of my house,” she yelled hysterically and rushed to the side of her bed.

  “Mom, it’s me Lincoln. Your son,” Lincoln pleaded and gazed into her eyes for recognition. She stared at him hatefully, disgusted at the sight of his face. Dropping below the bed, Lincoln took the sudden disappearance as his cue to leave. Whatever surprise she had in store for him might kill him.

  Shoving Noah out of the way, Lincoln frantically tried to dislodge the door from the frame. Noah kept his eye on the spot Lincoln’s mother disappeared from until Lincoln jerked him into the corridor—right into a hoard of flesh eaters.

  SIX

  J aws snapped as they shoved away the cannibals within reach. Bony limbs lined with black veins and gaunt faces surrounded them. Starved inside the building, they all looked like diseased skeletons playing dress up with skin.

  Keeping the infected at bay by pushing one into the other and trying to cause a domino effect, Noah yelled, “I think it was safer in the room.”

  “Until we find out what she hid under her bed,” Lincoln grunted placing his back to Noah’s so nothing could sneak up behind him. So many mouths tried to rip into Lincoln’s flesh every time he tried to reach for his weapon.

  “On your knees bitch!” Noah screamed enraged behind Lincoln finally able to reach for his knife. He swiftly launched his arm from his belt and stabbed the old man with sunken eyes in the head. Sweeping his hand around the swinging AK like a sweet embrace Noah shouted, “Say hello to my little—,” the last word cut off by the flood of bullets.

  Lincoln struggled with the three closest ghouls. A new head slipped through the rotting wall of bodies, but before it could sink its teeth into him a knife protruded from its head. The cannibal’s limp body fell forward, the weight pushing the other three ghouls closer to Lincoln.

  “I get to kill him first!” her voice rumbled in an icy tone. She pulled the knife free and rammed it into the next chomper’s shoulder.

  “The head!” Lincoln gasped still holding the other three back. “You have to stab it in the head!”

  The corpse she stabbed followed her hand and tried to take a chunk out of her arm when she reached for the knife. Her hand flinched backward, out of its reach and quickly produced a nail file stabbing it in the eye. “Try to bite me now!” She yelled and reached for the knife again. Wrenching it from the shoulder, she jammed it into the side of the ghoul’s head.

  On the other side of Lincoln, Noah came to the rescue and swung his machete yelling at the top of his lungs. He hacked away at anything that moved and bounced on the balls of his feet full of adrenaline. Blood spurted in an arc across Lincoln and his mother with every swing as limbs and heads flew through the air. They stepped against the wall, out of Noah’s rampage.

  Blood dripped down Noah’s face and arms. He spun from side to side breathing raggedly from all the exertion. Chopped body parts circled him as his eyes bounced around with the machete poised over his head waiting for something to twitch.

  “You done?” Lincoln asked quietly against the wall just in case Noah was spooked into swinging again.

  Noah’s arm slowly fell to his side and he sheathed the machete gazing at the carnage like he was seeing it for
the first time.

  Lincoln’s mother scanned the dead bodies and bones littering the floor in front of her with wide eyes. Pinching her nose in an attempt to stop the heinous smell from turning her stomach she asked in a shocked tone, “Peter, what’s happened? What are those things?”

  The name Peter was like a punch to the gut and sadness enveloped Lincoln. His hope of finally being recognized by his mother completely eviscerated. He felt like a rope tightened around his chest and realized she would only ever see the man she despised every time she looked at him.

  “I’m Lincoln,” he sighed dejectedly.

  “Lincoln!” She glanced around panicking. Dread filled her large eyes as she blundered through her thoughts and screamed while searching the bloody hall, “Lincoln! Where are you?!”

  “Oh shit,” Noah murmured.

  Before her anxiety could get worse, Lincoln stood to his full height, and towered over his mother. In a calm voice he said, “Gloria, he’s in a safe place waiting for us.” Hesitantly, Lincoln reached out to touch her shoulder. His hand hovered a few inches away from her until he thought better of it and let his hand drop to his side.

  In an authoritative voice he added, “If you keep making all that noise the ghouls will come. And if one of these things bites you, you’re dead.” Gloria faced him narrowing her eyes but before she could curse at him, he blurted out hastily, “We have to stay quiet, or they will swarm and kill us.” Emphasizing the last sentence, he said, “And Lincoln will be all alone.”

  Gloria clenched her teeth together instead of retaliating. For the sake of her son she kept her tongue lashing to herself and listened to the despicable man in front of her. She thought about her son all alone and took a deep breath to keep the tears away. Barely above a whisper she said, “Take me to my son Peter.”