The Dead Collection Box Set #1: Jack Zombie Books 1-4

by Flint Maxwell

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” the man says. “And I’d suggest none of you move. We have three snipers aimed at the backs of your heads. Some of the finest snipers left in this world.”

  I hold my breath. Fuck.

  “Good, now everyone throw your weapons out of the windows and come out with your hands up,” the man says.

  We are beaten. There may not be snipers, but I’m not risking it. Not with Darlene somewhere out here. I throw my gun. Reluctantly, Norm and Abby follow. Herb goes on whimpering.

  We file out of the plane, one by one.

  The man steps forward. “I’m not the enemy,” he whispers. And I look at him like What the hell? He gives me a glare that tells me not to ask questions…yet. Then louder, “My name is Scott Hill. I run this base, and we sentence you to death.”

  The crowd of soldiers burst into cheers.

  Roughly, Scott Hill grabs me and throws me to the ground. I don’t let him. I don’t go down easily. But in the end, I’ve lost regardless.

  We are all thrown to the ground and cuffed. Then we are thrown into the Jeep while the Army men go on cheering.

  Scott climbs into the driver’s seat and we’re off, tearing down the open runway toward a crop of squat gray buildings on the horizon. Prisoners, once again.

  We drive the stretch of military base for about half a mile. The cuffs bite into my wrist. I can think of nothing but Darlene, of getting out of them and killing everyone here to get to her.

  Then the Jeep turns into a long, narrow driveway which leads to a small hut-looking building. It’s on the very edge. Scott and the small man, who I learn is named Joe, exchange an uncomfortable glance as the Jeep stops.

  I’ll have to be quick. Quicker than I’ve ever been. This isn’t the arena of Eden, I’ll have my hands behind my back and no weapon. Scott turns around. I think, for a moment, we are about to be executed, not even given a chance.

  But Scott doesn’t draw on us. He doesn’t do anything like I expect him to do, and I’m grateful for that.

  He looks me square in the eyes and he says, “If you guys want to get at Central, you’ll have to be smarter than landing your aircraft in the middle of a war zone.”

  And we are all left speechless.

  Forty-Four

  Scott ushers us into a small room. The walls are wood paneled, the smell is of cigars and sweat. There’s a rug on the floor. It’s old and pock-marked, like something they might’ve dug out of the trash.

  Joe sets his clipboard down on the desk and takes what looks like an iPhone out of his hip pocket. We all just kind of watch with awe. It’s been so long, it seems, since we’ve seen a smart phone. He presses the screen, swipes a few times, and this high-piercing noise comes out from the speakers. I instantly grip my ears and grimace.

  Herb says, “Ow!”

  Then the sound stops and Joe nods at Scott. Scott looks up at the ceiling. I notice there are three tiny black balls hanging from the tile, like lifeless eyes. I’m reminded of security cameras in department stores.

  “You sure?” Scott says.

  “What is going on?” I ask. Seriously. What the hell is going on?

  Scott holds a finger up to me and Joe nods at him.

  “Okay, sorry,” Scott says, “Joe had to scramble the communications.”

  Norm is nodding his head vigorously like he understands. Abby folds her arms, tucking her missing hand beneath her right elbow. I just kind of gawk, my mouths hanging open, probably looking stupid as hell. Two minutes ago I thought I was dead. I was sure of it.

  “They’re listening, they’re always listening,” Scott says. He looks paler out of the sunlight and believe it or not, he’s actually sweating.

  “Who is?” I ask.

  “Central. Isn’t that why you’re here?” Scott says. To take Klein and them down?”

  My group and I all look at each other, narrowing our eyes. “Central?” I ask.

  “We don’t know Central,” Norm says.

  “We know that dickbag Klein, though,” Abby says.

  “Yeah, he has my fiancé,” I say. “Have you seen her?”

  Scott nods. “The blonde? Yeah, we saw her.”

  Holy shit. She’s alive. Oh thank you God. I couldn't think about her dead anymore. I just couldn't. It would kill me. I want to sprint forward and hug this man whom I barely know. I want to jump and scream at the top of my lungs. I want to do all of this, but I know it's not over yet. I still have to save her. And goddamn it, I'm going to.

  “Is…she okay?” I say, almost choking up. Abby grabs my shoulder and squeezes. I’m really on the brink of tears.

  Joe nods. “Beat up, but okay. The men from Central took her and Klein back to their base.”

  “Who is Central?” Norm practically shouts, causing Herb to jump. “We said we don’t know them.”

  “You’re not supposed to,” Joe says. “They are running this camp. They keep us safe, keep us ignorant.” Joe pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stands a little straighter. “But we’ve gone out to the territories. We’ve seen what they do. We’ve seen the zombies.”

  The way he’s talking makes it sound like zombies are some great conspiracy theory.

  “So wait,” Norm says, looking Joe square in the face. He flinches at his glare. “Hasn’t everyone seen the zombies?”

  I tune most of the conversation out. I’m too happy to hear about Darlene. I can’t sit around and waste anymore time.

  Scott takes a deep breath. “It’s kind of hard to explain without sounding crazy.”

  “Please try,” Abby says. “You can’t get crazier than zombies.”

  “She’s right,” Norm says.

  Abby gives him a wink.

  “Well, this was a quarantine camp that turned to a prison camp that turned to an electroshock, brainwashing camp,” Scott says.

  Joe’s eyes are distant with the memory, I think. He shakes slightly.

  “Those down there were brainwashed,” Scott says.

  “Yeah, that’s crazy,” Norm says.

  “Man, what did y’all get me into?” George bellows. He goes and stands over by Herb, doing his best to ignore us.

  Herb doesn’t notice George. He stares up at one of the black balls, oohing and ahhing — just being Herb, I guess.

  “And what about you two?” Norm says, eying the two men who are suddenly not as intimidating to me.

  “We found the truth. We found out about Project Reset — ”

  “That’s it,” I say. “That’s what we’re trying to prevent,” snapped out of my scheming.

  Joe smiles and Scott looks a little relieved.

  “Good,” Scott says. “We thought so. What organization are you with? Are you with Redhawk? Lola?”

  Norm crosses his eyes and shakes his head.

  What kind of name is Lola for a secret organization? Sounds like what a kid would name his dog or something.

  “No,” I say. “I’m just out for vengeance.”

  Scott nods as if he understands, but I don’t think he could ever truly understand. “I can respect that,” Scott says.

  “Pretty,” Herb says, dreamily, interrupting us all. Scott and Joe give him a glance then turn back to us. But Joe snaps his gaze back at Herb, a worried look on his face. I look over at him. Their heads are tilted up.

  “Get away from that,” Joe says. This catches me by surprise. I don’t like his tone. I sense danger.

  A red light is flashing on in the black glass balls.

  “Shit,” Scott says under his breath. “How long?”

  “Can’t be long,” Joe answers. “Still coming back online.” He pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and swipes.

  “Listen, we don’t have much time,” Scott says. He rushes over to us. My heart stutters because it’s like he’s almost going to hit me or something.

  Scott doesn’t hit me, though. He grabs my hand. His palms are sweaty. He is shaking. I feel fear gripping my throat. “There’s a lake past the m
ountains on the west side. That’s where Klein went. Central came and took him and your fiancé as soon as they landed. They have the plans and there’s talk of starting the project within the next forty-eight hours. That’s a rumor Joe picked up, so we don’t know for sure. It could be sooner, could be later, or it could be right now.”

  This is not good.

  Scott squeezes my hands until I’m grimacing and my bones feel like they’re grinding together.

  Norm steps between us. Scott lets go. “Okay, mountains, west side, got it. What else?”

  “There’s a town. A ghost town beyond the fences Central put up to keep us ’safe.’ The town was erected around the gold rush in the 1800s,” Scott continues, talking a mile a second. My head whirls with information.

  “Bullshit,” George says.

  “Every town is a ghost town now,” Abby says.

  “But this is a place that never updated,” Joe says. “You’ll see. It looks like an old Western movie set.”

  “Okay,” I say, it's weird how the Western movie genre comes back to haunt me all the time. “Then what?”

  “There’s a place called Blood Rock. It’s not advertised or anything, but you’ll see what I mean when you get there. That’s where Central’s located — ”

  A car door slams outside of the building. We all jump simultaneously. All of us except for Norm and Herb. Norm because he’s just badass like that, barely afraid of anything besides his own guilt and demons about being gay; and Herb because he’s still looking at the blinking red dot in the black ball of glass.

  “Shit,” Scott says turning to the door. He pulls a gun seemingly out of nowhere and aims at it. I follow suit and so does Abby and Norm.

  That momentarily excitement tingles throughout my body. The electric buzz of a battle yet to be fought.

  George turns to the door and just as he does, the wood explodes open from what sounds like a grenade. The very foundation of the building shakes. Dust comes down from the rafters. A cloud of smoke chokes the room, distorting the surroundings. The front desk and Joe’s clipboard are vaporized. Shards of shrapnel fly through the air. George chokes out a cry. I’m almost frozen, cowering down, feeling the warmth of the fire and the smoke.

  Vaguely, I see the outline of George turn toward us. The blood dripping from his mouth is a vivid red. A piece of the wooden door juts out from his neck. His eyes bulge.

  “George!” I scream, lurching toward him.

  But Norm grips me and holds me in place.

  “Go! Go!” Scott yells at us. He hands me a set of keys and another gun then pushes us toward the back with a wave of both hands. “We’ll hold them off. Just stop them. Stop Central at all costs!”

  I have the gun in my hand, I don’t plan on running. If I run, these people who plan on destroying the world might get away it.

  The cloud of dust and smoke settles low over the ground. George writhes in pain, choking out. It hurts to watch. Not only does the smoke sting my eyes, but the tears do, too. I’m not stupid enough to think there’s anything I can do to save him. He’s gone. It’s only a matter of time.

  Abby and Herb have already filed through the back door.

  Scott and I look at each other, understanding in both of our eyes. It’s like he’s passing me the torch. We nod. He grips his gun tighter, the whites of his knuckles showing through his tan flesh, and then he turns to the door and screams.

  George has quit moving. George is dead.

  I watch as the first silhouettes of men burst through the smoke, their guns raised. Sparks light the air and thunder rumbles and shots go off. Joe is cut down by a bullet. The top of his head rips off. It’s not clean. There’s a spray of blood — no, a fountain of it.

  That’s all I see because Norm is screaming into my ear, “C’mon!” as the distant rumble of gunfire rocks the room next to us. I feel numb. My ears are ringing. And the world seems dead. I have to go for Darlene. I have to stay alive.

  Forty-Five

  It takes a slap in the face from Norm for me to come back down to earth. Suddenly, the sound of the battle hits me full force — the lack of George’s screaming, the new screaming of Scott, the rolling echo of gunfire in an enclosed space.

  The heat of the outside seeps in through the back door. We don’t know where we are going, just that I have a set of keys Scott has given me.

  I hit the alarm button and soon hear the chirping in the distance, drowning out the shots behind us. Norm kicks open the back door and sweeps the area. I’m next, making sure Abby and Herb are behind me.

  Not surprisingly, three men, dressed in the dark camouflage of the men who we met upon our arrival to the base lean out around the corner of the building with their rifles pointed in our direction.

  I’m quick, and I’ve become a good shot. I pull the trigger. Compressed thunder erupts from my hand. And then something happens — something you’d never think would happen in a million years.

  It seems I’ve pulled the trigger a fraction of a second faster than the soldier has. My bullet slams into his rifle and by way of strange magic or science or complete dumb luck, his rifle explodes in his hands. The man screams out as his arm is ripped clean from his socket. Dark red blood rains down on the sand. The explosion reaches his partners. One of the men’s faces are studded with metal shrapnel. The other’s clothes catch on fire. Two of them drop. The one on fire rolls around. The soldier left standing is the one without an arm and he looks at the blood spraying from the socket with utter disbelief. So do I.

  I’m thinking: What am I? How could I?

  I decide to be a good guy, now. I aim at his face and pull the trigger. The bullet takes him in the middle of the forehead and he drops.

  Dead.

  “Go!” I shout. “Go! The alarm!” I say. “Follow the alarm!”

  It takes them a moment to snap out of it. I don’t blame them. What just happened to those three soldiers is gruesome and it almost puts seeing a zombie walking around with its guts hanging out to shame.

  It’s only as the sounds of more gunfire from within the small building burst into our ears that we start moving again. Around the building in a cracked-pavement parking lot is another Jeep like the one we’ve left in the front except it’s not sand colored and it has a roof.

  I turn the alarm off with the press of a button and get behind the wheel. In the rearview, I see the stream of people come from the building. They run through the pool of blood that belonged to the soldiers like it was rain puddles. These guys are not wearing camouflage, either. They are wearing slick black suits and sunglasses so dark, they seem to suck in the light from above.

  I throw the Jeep into gear while Herb cries out in fear. Norm and Abby pile into the back. The Jeep rocks and groans with the movement. I don’t wait until everyone’s buckled up to stomp on the gas pedal. I don’t wait because in the rearview I see the Men in Black point their weapons at me, smug looks on their faces. My brain is telling me I should jerk the wheel and risk flipping the vehicle over but I can’t. I’m almost entranced by the harmony in which the four men aim down at us.

  “Get down!” I shout, pressing the pedal to the floor. They do.

  Four shots sound like a chorus.

  I hear glass break. The zap of a bullet taking the seat, and a tire blows. I momentarily lose control of the wheel and shout to try to set us back on the right course.

  “Jack!” Norm shouts. “Watch it!”

  I look up at the rearview mirror and in the glass that’s left is my face and over my right eye is a perfect star. It’s from a bullet hole.

  Herb screams because the Jeep careens right for another small, squat building. At the last second, gritting my teeth, I swerve, missing it by about a foot.

  “That’s why I drive!” Norm shouts.

  “Is everyone okay?” I ask, practically screaming.

  “Think so,” Abby answers. “Herb?”

  “I’s okay,” Herb says, his voice low, shaky.

  I cut the wheel so we are
out of sight from more shots. I realize I’m shaking pretty bad. I don’t know if I can keep driving. The wheel is flapping on the left side. I don’t know how much longer we will get before the Jeep goes the way of Shelly.

  On the horizon, in the shimmering heat, is the low rolling mountains of jagged rock. I close my eyes for a second, catch my breath. Then I open them and it’s the vast desert in front with no one behind us for now.

  Forty-Six

  There was a cache of guns and ammo in the Jeep — a gift from God. Everyone has a weapon now except Herb. After what happened in the Ford outside of the Butain Airport, I think it’s best he leaves the shooting up to us.

  The mountains never seem to get closer. We drive and drive the open stretch of desert until the small military base George brought us to is nothing but a speck in the fractured rearview mirror.

  R.I.P., George.

  What gets closer to us and has appeared within the last few miles is a fence that stretches the horizon as far as the eyes can see. Beyond the fence are the mountains and more desert. There is no old, abandoned town, there is no Blood Rock, and there is damn sure no lake in this dry place. Seeing the sand and the clouds of dust blow in the hot breeze makes my throat grow tighter. I’m so thirsty. The sun is so hot. I have no energy. Norm and Abby in the backseat look just as uncomfortable and dazed.

  I must zone out because a rough hand is shaking me and saying, “Jack! You idiot!” over and over again.

  My eyes open wide. The fence is coming to meet us dead on like we’re in Star Wars and coming out of hyperspace. I slam on the brakes. The tires crunch dirt and sand. I grip the wheel so hard, I think it’s going to turn to dust.

  But we stop inches away from the metal.

  I exhale. All that separates me from Darlene is a fence. That’s all. I can do this.

  “Close one!” Herb shouts. He smiles and he’s bathed in sweat.

  “Jesus, Jack, you almost killed us. That’s why I should be the driver, damnit,” Norm says.

  I ignore him. I’m too shaken from all of this, from what happened at the base to what is happening now. I saw people die. I killed people. And more are going to die before this is all said and done. I guarantee it.