New DEAD series (Book 2): DEAD (Alone)

by TW Brown

  I turned to see a man stopped with his fists on his hips, his feet planted in protest of moving another step. I didn’t know this guy from Adam, but I had an instant disliking for him. After my encounter with Brandon Cook, I decided to trust my gut.

  “Then stay here and die, I really don’t care.” I gave the guy a dismissive wave of my hand and turned to walk away.

  I breathed a little sigh of relief when first Miranda, then Marshawn and Edmund, and then more of the group hurried to catch up. We passed houses that had been looted, and a few that had suffered from the rash of fires that broke out when all hell broke loose.

  I discovered that I wasn’t even curious as to whether or not the dissenter had opted to join the group. I had a goal in mind and I was going to see it through.

  “You aren’t still thinking of taking on this Don Evans and his people, are you?” Miranda whispered as we hurried along the empty streets of a city that was becoming a wasteland.

  “I have to at least take a look before we head to my own crew.” A voice in the back of my head was arguing against that sentiment. It was pretty foolish considering our situation and current circumstances. Despite that inner warning, I needed to see his camp one more time and get an idea what we would face. If I was fortunate, maybe they would be gone leaving no trace. That would take any further decisions out of my hands. I could simply drive my vehicle loaded with food and supplies for Chewie back to where Carl and Betty were still hopefully safe and sound.

  If we made it back intact, I could actually take the time to rest and heal. My entire body felt as if it had been run through a meat grinder. I was sore, exhausted, and ready to put my feet up for a few days and just do nothing but sleep and pet my dog.

  My mind was drifting to a good place. We’d gotten clear of that horde and lost a few people in the process, but it could’ve been worse. We would get to my vehicle, cram as many people in it as possible, and the rest would have to sit on the roof or the hood. I could keep the speed slow, and I didn’t think there would be any cops out to enforce the ‘Click it or ticket’ campaign.

  “Evan,” Marshawn whispered, pulling me from my reverie.

  I glanced over at the man to see that he was more grim-faced than usual. His eyes kept flicking past me and then back as if something just over my shoulder had his attention and would not let it go.

  I could not help but turn to look and see what had this man so vexed. I almost tripped over my own feet when I realized what had him so disturbed.

  “Hey, Edmund,” I said around a throat that was growing tighter and drier with each second.

  “Yeah, Evan?” He looked over at me when I spoke so that we were making direct eye contact. My name faded on his lips as he saw my expression.

  It was no trick of the light. The darkening of the capillaries was getting more pronounced with each passing second. I was literally watching the infection take root in this man.

  “You sure you didn’t get bitten or scratched back there?”

  The man stopped walking and looked at me. His eyes were growing wide with fear. He knew something was wrong and he had probably already guessed as to what.

  “I think I would’ve been aware.”

  “No way,” Miranda breathed as she stopped beside the man and saw what all of us could now see quite plainly.

  “My eyes are bloodshot in black, aren’t they?” he asked. The question wasn’t directed at any one person and the response he got consisted of a few muttered affirmations mixed in with those who chose to just turn away and end any eye contact with the man.

  “But I didn’t get bit,” Edmund insisted, spinning back to face me with tears starting to fill his eyes. “This is a mistake.”

  There was a strange crunching sound and the man’s eyes went wide. He fell to the ground, his body still twitching in the last moments of final death. A large metal spike jutted from the back of his skull.

  Miranda stared down at the man for a moment. Everybody else just stood in shocked and silent immobility.

  “Why would you do that?” Marshawn stepped towards Miranda, his hands balled into fists.

  “Would you prefer that he suffer? Did you want to wait until he turned into one of those things?”

  “I…well…” The man deflated and stepped back from Miranda who knelt down beside Edmund’s corpse.

  At first I thought that she was simply retrieving the large railroad spike that she had driven into the back of Edmund’s head. I was stunned when she bowed her head. I could hear whispered words coming from her as she prayed and then very gently closed the man’s eyes one final time.

  She stood up and looked around at all the eyes that were now staring at her—mine included. She opened her mouth to speak, but then clamped her teeth together and turned on her heel. Without warning, she stormed away in the direction that we’d been heading.

  One by one, the others fell in and we resumed our trek. I considered my options for about a block and then broke away from the group and jogged to catch up to Miranda. Once I caught up, I fell in beside her, matching her stride.

  “You did the right thing,” I whispered.

  She said nothing, but I think I saw her eyes flick towards me briefly. We continued on in silence for a few more steps.

  “You could have said so back there instead of leaving me out to dry,” she finally said.

  “Honestly, it took me a few minutes to get my mind wrapped around it. I doubt I would’ve seen your side in this as recent as yesterday,” I admitted.

  “Well you better get your stuff wired in tight if you are gonna lead our group.”

  “Who said anything about me leading?”

  “If you have to tell people you are the leader, then you ain’t it,” Miranda snickered. “Being a leader is about having people willing to follow you. You sort of put off a good vibe. People are drawn to it. If you want proof, just look over your shoulder at the little flock that you’ve already built.”

  “I didn’t build anything,” I sputtered. “I’m just trying to get back to my people and my dog. Hell, until just a while ago, I thought that I was a dead man walking. The possibility of immunity never crossed my mind.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think this is gonna be much like the movies,” Miranda snorted. “In fact, if you have this secure compound that you’ve been talking about, you might need to consider how many people can fit there comfortably. If we pack it in too tight, we will be dealing with illness and hot tempers before long.”

  “You mean turn people away?”

  “If it comes to that.” She paused as if considering her next words. “We don’t want to let in the wrong sort of people.”

  I knew what she meant. Unlike that creep, Don Evans, who felt that anybody who did not match his skin tone needed to be eliminated, Miranda was concerned about letting in people like Don. People like Brandon Cook for instance. I’d brought him back to the group despite my gut feeling that he was bad.

  “I understand what you mean, but how are we going to know the difference between the good guys and the bad? It isn’t like they’ll be wearing signs around their necks.”

  Miranda stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm. I stopped and looked first at her, then let my gaze follow hers. She was perhaps sixteen. Or…she had been. Now the girl was swinging by a noose that had been tossed over a street light. Her feet dangled about two feet from the ground. That was disturbing in and of itself. It was what was scrawled on the sign hanging around her neck.

  I’m no saint. I am a flawed human being. I can’t say for a fact that I’ve never uttered a racial slur. One or two may very well have slipped from my mouth in anger. Most likely while I was behind the wheel. But I would not, nor could I ever make racism a part of my life.

  Taking a closer look at this poor girl, I could see that being lynched had not been the worst part of her ordeal. Her body was a mess. Both eyes were swollen shut and I could see blood starting to dry around her nose as well as her mouth were her lips had been shredde
d against her teeth in what had to have been a brutal beating. The fingers of her right hand were still trapped between her throat and the noose where she’d obviously tried to free herself.

  “This wasn’t too long ago,” Marshawn said as he walked up beside me.

  “And I have a good idea who the culprits are,” I hissed.

  I turned to the rest of the group that were all coming to a stop and staring up at the poor girl who had suffered such a needless and cruel death. Most were fixated on the terrible sight, but there were others who could not bring themselves to look. While I was glad they were upset by this scene, I was also concerned. Those were the sort who might freeze up when it came time to take a human life. If we were going to survive, there could be no hesitation. That time was past. I’m sure it had been long ago. I imagine I was feeling many of the same emotions that Carl had felt when I basically went into shock after he and I killed Brandon and his cohort.

  Carl had known all the way back on the day he beat down that first zombie in my bedroom. I looked at some of my actions and was almost embarrassed. This was not the time for such things, however, as I stepped towards the group and surveyed them for a few seconds.

  “The people who did this are not far from here. As soon as I get my car, I plan on heading back there. They’ve suffered some losses, but I have no idea what their actual numbers might be. If there are not too many, then I plan on ending them right here and now.” I paused and let that sink in. “If we have an opportunity, I fully intend to kill these people.”

  I intentionally used the word “kill” when I spoke. I thought it had a harsh sound to it, and this was going to be nothing if not harsh. I knew from experience that the taking of another life had a way of taking a serious emotional toll on a person. It was not something that you could erase or undo, and unless some of these folks had actually killed a person (as opposed to a zombie), then they would be in for a rude awakening.

  “If you don’t feel that you can take part in this, I understand, but from this point on, if you are following me, then you are in this to the end.” I didn’t want to push any potential help away, but I could not afford to have somebody freeze up if we did make our attack now. “So, I am only going to ask this once…who is in?”

  I was surprised when all but two hands went up. I looked over at Marshawn and nodded. “These two trustworthy?”

  “I know her,” he pointed to a petite blonde girl who looked like a stiff breeze might knock her over. “She was my babysitter. I don’t know this guy.”

  “Name’s Stevie Ray Nichols, most folks call me Nicky.” The man extended a hand to me—I shook it after I realized what he was doing—then he repeated the gesture with Marshawn. “I joined up with you folks two days ago. I was one of the people trapped in that railroad car.”

  Stevie Ray Nichols, or Nicky, was a man in his late twenties. It wasn’t hard to imagine him tossing bales of hay onto a cart by day and hanging out at some dank and dirty cowboy bar at night. He had blonde hair even whiter than the young babysitter’s and a gap between his front teeth that looked like it was seriously missing a long stalk of wheat or straw or whatever it was that cowboys stuck between their teeth. I didn’t begrudge anybody for sitting out what was bound to be a nasty fight if one ended up happening, but this was a very able-bodied young man. Maybe I was relying on stereotypes, but this strapping young man looked like he could handle his business in a fight.

  “Went hunting with my daddy when I was a youngster,” Nicky started to explain, obviously seeing the look on my face and deducing my concern and perhaps more than a little suspicion. “Had a six-point buck in my scope on my first trip…first dang morning even.” His face flushed and he dropped his gaze. “Then my hands started shaking.”

  “Buck fever,” Marshawn said with a nod.

  “I don’t doubt that the people doing all this have to be stopped, but I just don’t think I can do it…” His face flushed an even brighter red. “And I don’t want to die because I couldn’t pull the trigger…or worse, be the cause of somebody else’s death.”

  I glanced over at Marshawn, then Miranda. They both returned my look with a shrug.

  “No use delaying the inevitable,” I said with a sigh. I pulled out my keys. “But I can’t just hand all the stuff I grabbed over to you.” I knew I was going to catch a dose of hell for what I was about to do.

  13

  Stepping Off the Ledge

  In the end, Miranda put up almost no argument about not coming with me on this run. I think she saw the logic in her being along for the ride with all the supplies we’d gathered. If it was just the dog food, I doubt anybody would covet it enough to run off with it, but the gear we’d nabbed from the police station was a different story.

  She’d obviously not been happy about it, but she acquiesced without so much as a dirty look. I found myself suddenly very relieved with that issue out of the way.

  Most everybody had their own weapons, but a few were lacking any sort of firepower and were more than happy to pick up whatever struck their fancy from the police hardware. I limited everybody who chose to scoop up a police pistol or rifle to four magazines worth of ammunition.

  They were in short supply, but I decided to don one of the Kevlar vests under my heavy coat. I wasn’t interested in the helmets, but Marshawn grabbed one along with a vest and one of the M4 rifles.

  After making certain that Miranda knew exactly where to find Carl and the others—which seemed to annoy her more than her relegation to being a watchdog over our procured gear—we all said our farewells. I watched the car roll away and felt confident that it was in good hands. Nicky had been tasked to drive. I assume Miranda made that arrangement so that she would have her hands free. At least that would’ve been my reason.

  “Okay, this place is at the big church on Sunnyside and 142nd,” I announced to the group. “They have it barricaded with stalled vehicles around the lot. There is a waist-high brick wall around the back. I am willing to bet that is our best way in. I have no idea what their numbers are, so I think that we would be best served by getting there, finding some good spots to scout from, and then making a decision about whether we hit these people now. If they are simply too much for us to have a reasonable shot, then we can make it back to where I sent Miranda and formulate a defensive plan should they come sniffing about.”

  “How would they just happen upon this place of yours?” one of the people gathered around asked.

  “They already made a run on it once and were repelled. It was only a small scouting group, and only one of their people managed to escape, but that one person is enough to lead them back with greater numbers if they decide to do so.”

  Okay, I left out a lot of details, but they didn’t need to know that I had basically sold my old group out to these assholes. I certainly wasn’t proud of my actions, and I doubted I would inspire much confidence by revealing such things. Before anybody could ask any more about the subject, I moved on.

  “We don’t have any way to communicate, and I doubt any of us will be lucky enough to stumble across a set of fully charged two-way radios, so we will need to rely on signals. As soon as we get close, we will select a good rendezvous point and set a time to meet back where we can share our intel.” I glanced over at Marshawn. “You got anything to add?”

  “Sounds like you have it all under control, chief,” he said with a shrug and a crooked smile.

  With that, we started towards our destination. Zombies were scattered along the way, but we only deviated from our course to take down the ones that were getting close enough to be a concern. We did our best to stay quiet which kept too many from tagging along. After a dozen or so blocks, it was suggested that we send a few of our people back to take down the small cluster that was starting to gain in size behind us.

  I agreed as long as nobody took any unnecessary risks. That actually got a few raised eyebrows and funny looks.

  “We are in the middle of the zombie apocalypse preparing to p
ossibly launch a strike on a racist band of raiders holed up in a church, is there ever gonna be such a thing as an unnecessary risk again?” Marshawn snorted, shaking his head as he motioned for those he selected to go back and take care of our little zombie problem before it became too big to handle.

  The area wasn’t one I was overly familiar with, but I knew where Sunnyside Road existed in relation to us. And finding Southeast 142nd Avenue was simple mathematics. We were cutting through a neighborhood and at the junction of Southeast 134th Avenue and Southeast Scenic Ridge Drive. I was also seeing a few familiar landmarks. Since this wasn’t a neighborhood that I was actually acquainted with, I had to guess that I’d come through here during my escape.

  As if fate wanted to do me the favor of making that confirmation, a trio of zombies rounded the corner of a nearby house. I had to figure that the battery had died, but I recognized the contraption strapped to the neck of one of the zombies. The man had been one of those poor people fated to be on that mission where I’d escaped, causing Natasha to activate the MP3 noisemakers we’d each been fitted with. I’d killed mine by diving into a water-filled ditch.

  He had bites all up and down his arms and his pants had been ripped off. From the looks of it, his upper right thigh had been tucked into like a Thanksgiving dinner. The entire upper part of his leg had a cantaloupe sized chunk torn away that made me wonder how he could possibly keep his feet. Something had ripped into his right pectoral as well. This guy had obviously been pulled down by a small pack of undead and savaged. It was shudder inducing to imagine such a fate, but it was made worse by the fact that I knew beyond any doubt that I was responsible.

  It would’ve been very easy to skirt this little group of zombies, but I felt I owed something to this guy. I veered away, ignoring the exasperated objections voiced by Marshawn and some of the others.

  I stopped just a few feet away from the visible source of my guilt and the fodder travelling with him. There would be no way I could take down just the one. I would have to fight my way through to my intended target. This group consisted of two male and three female zombies, one an elderly lady lacking any visible teeth which struck me as comical. She was the zombie equivalent to an unloaded gun. In fact, slap a set of sturdy gloves on her and she would be about as dangerous as a puppy. I have no idea what set my mind down that path, but it was enough to allow me to basically ignore her as I chose the male that was not my primary target. Two reasons, the first being that he was the closest. The second reason was that he also looked like he’d fed recently. There was a stain around his mouth that still had some of its reddish tint.