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

by TW Brown

  I chose a machete to deal with these particular undead and brought it around in a sidearm swing that dug into the temple of my first target. Using my left arm to hack and slash was almost starting to feel natural. That didn’t mean that I would not look forward to the day that my right arm was fully healed.

  I jerked the blade free and took down a young woman who might’ve been a banker, an accountant, or simply liked to dress in non-descript skirts and blouses while wearing sensible shoes. Her death had come from having her throat torn open by the looks of things. The blood had long since dried, flaked away, and left little more than a black stain on her now shabby clothes and gray, tattered skin. I ended her with an overhand chop that broke her skull open more than actually cutting into it.

  I was stepping up to my intended target just as Marshawn rushed up. He was about to take down the man that I’d sent to his death.

  “No!” I shouted, causing Marshawn to skid to a stop.

  He backed up a few steps in a hurry and then spun around to face me. “What the hell?”

  “That one is mine,” I said grimly as I pushed past and lined up my attack.

  He had not been anything remarkable. Just a man…a face in the crowd. Yet, our paths had crossed and I’d altered his fate irrevocably. I tried to tell myself that I couldn’t hold onto this anymore. I’d made choices, and I would have to live with those consequences. It was not really a form of atonement, but I felt as if it would be important for me to put this man down. If asked, I couldn’t really explain why I felt the way I did.

  The man reached for me and I shoved him away, but not before his cold, dead hands brushed my face. That sensation caused a shudder. There was an unnatural feeling to having something dead come into contact with your exposed flesh; at least that was the case for me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  I used my right foot to sweep his legs out from underneath him. As soon as the body hit the ground, I moved in, planting my heel in between his shoulder blades. The swing was sudden, and the man’s ending proved anticlimactic. I felt no sense of closure or ease in my conscience.

  “Just as well,” I whispered as I jerked the blade free.

  Everything had grown blurry and it took me a second to realize that tears had welled up in my eyes. I wiped at them with the sleeve of my shirt and looked around to realize that Marshawn and the others had put down the other few zombies that made up this particular little cluster.

  I made no effort to explain, and nobody asked as we resumed our trek. I could feel something building in me with every step that I took bringing me closer to Don Evans and his band of followers. It wasn’t necessarily hatred, but it was a type of anger that I’d never felt or even knew existed. At first, it scared me.

  My mind was clearing the shelves of anything that might get in the way of what I knew had to be done. Wrapped in my own thoughts, I wondered briefly if this was what turned people into sociopaths. I was on my way to a place where I would be committing acts of murder; there was no nice way to sugarcoat this and take away the reality.

  That was another aspect of the fiction that was sadly lacking. I had seen plenty of movies and shows where people killed each other with no apparent mental aftermath. How could anybody take that as even possible with what we’d seen from our troops returning home. Killing another human being is just not an acceptable act for most. I acknowledged as I marched onward that it would happen. Period. That did not make it any more palatable.

  “You okay?” Marshawn’s voice chiseled into my awareness, snapping me out of the trance I’d put myself in to hopefully steel myself for what lie ahead.

  “Nope,” I answered simply.

  I waited for a reply or a question from the man, but he simply walked beside me in silence for a few blocks.

  I pulled up as we reached a grassy expanse with woods on the far side. With my one eye covered, I had to physically stop walking and examine the area to find where I was almost certain I’d come through. I knew there would be a little stream cutting through the area, but that was the only thing that stood out in my memory. In truth, I’d been running for my life. My brain had other things that had taken priority other than committing the landscape to memory.

  “We’re close,” I finally said. “It will be across there, to another neighborhood that they were systematically stripping of supplies. The church will be to our left eventually, and not far. I think now is a good time to solidify our plan.”

  The rest of the people that had opted to follow were now gathered around. As I looked at their faces, I saw a variety of expressions that mirrored what had been going on in my head. Mixed in were traces of doubt, fear, and the most frightening expression that I saw on a couple of our group—nothing.

  We went over the signals one more time to be absolutely certain that everybody had them down. I stressed that I really wanted to make this happen now before they slipped away, but that I would not ask or expect everybody to charge in to their deaths.

  “I think we all realize what we are dealing with here,” Marshawn said, stepping into the middle of our cluster. “And you might feel like you are ready to go and do what we are asking you to do, but I doubt that any of us has killed a man—”

  “Or woman,” I blurted, remembering Natasha and feeling certain that she wasn’t the only woman in that group.

  “Or woman,” Marshawn agreed. “I will take three of you with me and circle along the back side of the church. Our goal will be to find any sort of rear exit and cover it.”

  “My group will be coming in from the north with Marshawn’s people to our right,” I continued. “That means anything moving in from any other direction has to be considered likely to be hostile. Undead or otherwise, we take down anything and everything.” I scanned the faces again and saw a few more expressions void of anything.

  “This is your last chance to back out,” Marshawn said after a painful silence as we all stood on the precipice of murder. There is no coming back from it, I knew that for a fact.

  “We’re here to put an end to that, right?” one of the women asked, her voice so hushed that a breeze would have whisked her words away before we could hear them. She pointed past us to a light pole that could be made out through the trees. If it would’ve been full-on spring, there would’ve been too much greenery and the example she’d located might not have been seen.

  I had to crane my neck, but a gentle breeze helped by giving a little push to the body hanging from the light fixture’s metal arm. We were too far away to tell if it was a zombie, and I honestly couldn’t make out if the person was of a non-Caucasian ethnicity but, considering the situation, it seemed like a safe bet. I knew for a fact that there hadn’t been anybody hanging there when I’d been escorted through on the mission that had facilitated my escape.

  One of our group brought a hunting rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope. He didn’t need to say anything; the expression on his face told the story for us. The real giveaway was his inability to look at Marshawn or any of the other members in the group that were not white.

  I was suddenly very conscious of my skin tone. I knew that I was nothing like Don Evans and his ilk, but I felt a wave of shame roll through me.

  At last, we all gave solemn hugs or handshakes and went our separate ways. Just as we started to split, Marshawn stepped over and clasped my right forearm in a firm grip. “When this is done, we can talk about whatever is bothering you. But I want you to know that I got your back…always.”

  I nodded. There was nothing else to say. I looked at my team. The woman who’d noticed the hanging body and four other men were with me.

  We hadn’t gone more than ten yards or so into the sparse woods when the sounds of activity began to filter through to us. To their credit, Don’s people weren’t making that much noise. All conversations were kept low to the point of only sounding like giant bumblebees. The sliding or pushing of what sounded like crates of some sort being shoved were the most dominant nois
e source.

  We spread out to form a loose line and crept forward through the brush, each of us doing his or her best to stay under cover. I was the center of the line and a step or two ahead of everybody else. When I reached the edge of the wooded area, I came to a halt and got a look at my surroundings. To our right, in the direction that Marshawn and the others would come from was the neighborhood that butted against the west side of the church. It showed signs of several fires that were just starting to grow and consume the houses. If I had to guess, I would think that Don and his people were using that as a diversion. That also led me to believe that they were preparing to roll out of the place now.

  As I scanned the parking lot where I could make out some activity, I noticed three school buses in a line. That was where everything was being loaded—both on top and inside. I focused my attention on the buses and tried to discern between the different people that I saw rushing around.

  One thing I noticed was that every single one of them was armed with a pistol on their hip. Some also had a rifle or shotgun slung over one shoulder. In addition, each of them had knives in a variety of sizes dangling from their belt.

  Across the parking lot, I saw a team of three people rushing about and taking down any zombies that wandered close. So far, there wasn’t too much activity. I had a feeling that would change as soon as they turned over the engines on those buses.

  While not totally certain, I thought that I counted eleven people. That didn’t mean there weren’t any more lurking inside the series of buildings, that just meant that it seemed as if they had eleven different people involved in loading up supplies. Since I didn’t see Don Evans, I had to assume that he was inside and that he probably had some of his upper-level minions gathered around as he laid out whatever plan he had floating around in his head. I also did not see Natasha.

  A flutter of white caught my attention and I glanced over to my right to see Marshawn and two of the people in his group peering over the brick wall. From my vantage point, I didn’t see anybody at the rear of the building. That meant it was safe for him to advance and I gave the “go ahead” motion with my hands. I adjusted the bandage on my head a bit, wishing I could just tear it off and be done with it, but Marshawn made is seem like the injury was at least somewhat serious, so I kept it on and did my best to tighten it a little before things got crazy.

  I withdrew a few feet and motioned my team over to me. As they gathered around, I made note of who carried what weapons. I had two men with scoped hunting rifles. They would be the shock portion of my assault.

  “You two move to the far left and right of our position. As soon as I give the signal, start picking off those closest to the buses. If you can nail one just as they are climbing in so that their body is maybe in the way of people trying to get inside, so much the better.”

  “We’re really doing this,” the woman muttered, shaking her head.

  I didn’t have time to coddle anybody. We were going to strike hard and fast. My only concern was that I had yet to see any sign of Don Evans…or Natasha for that matter. I had a feeling that this would prove to be a prime example of “cut off the head of the snake and the body dies” when it came to the followers. I already knew of at least one person who was simply falling in with the best numbers. Of course Arlo was dead now, but there could be more like him who were not fully under Don’s influence and just along for the safety the group provided. It might not be too late for some of them if we could just kill Don.

  It was that line of thinking that had me considering the possibility of just waiting until he showed himself, but then we would risk having to take on his entire little army at once. Right now, we had the element of surprise on our side. We could put a big dent in his numbers before they could regroup. That might be enough for us to come away with a win…and minimal casualties.

  “The rest of us will attack from this location. Start with those who are closest to the building’s entrance so they don’t get away. Marshawn and his group will be coming around from that far corner.” I pointed. “So watch yourselves if you have a target in that direction.”

  I doubted that I would be going down in history as a master strategist, but I felt that our best chance was a straightforward attack. The moment you start making things fancy, you give yourself all kinds of possibilities for the plan to go awry.

  “Does anybody have any questions?” I scanned the faces staring back at me. I think that a few of them were just now realizing exactly what it was that we were about to do. Maybe it hadn’t seemed real for them until just this moment, but I couldn’t worry myself with that; I had a mission.

  “What if they try to surrender?” the woman hissed, her voice almost loud enough to cause concern.

  “That isn’t an option at this time,” I said, surprised at both the quickness of my response and the conviction of the fact that this was the hard truth.

  She opened her mouth, but I was saved having to answer it when a small stone whizzed past. I looked up to see that Marshawn had managed to get up on the roof of the building without being detected. When he’d mentioned that as his goal, I had mixed feelings. It would offer a good overhead view of the killing field, but they could end up trapped up there if things went poorly.

  “If we are gonna do this, then we go balls out…no half-measures,” was his reply.

  I pointed him out to the team. I saw two more individuals up there with him. He’d chosen the ones carrying rifles. That left two of his people on the ground. As long as nothing had changed, they would be coming around that corner I’d pointed out earlier.

  “We’re burning daylight,” I said, drawing my Glock.

  Another point that we’d agreed upon was that noise was not a concern. If we had to make a retreat, having a bunch of zombies converging on the location might be a benefit. We all had hand-to-hand weapons, but they would be as a last resort if we ran out of ammo. As for me, with my arm throbbing and my injured eye, the choices were even more limited. If I ran out of bullets, I would have to retreat or charge in to my death. There was no reasonable possibility that I could survive if we had to get up close and personal in the fight.

  I shook off the morbid thoughts of my potential for failure and the resulting death that would come from such an outcome. Raising my hand, I extended my fingers and made very exaggerated motions as I ticked down the signal.

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  The sounds of both hunting rifles were like cannons in the relatively silent world of the undead. I saw one person who was just entering the lead bus stumble forward and land hard on the narrow steps. I didn’t have time to scout out the second target as I rushed forward, pistol in my left hand. I saw a man spin around about thirty yards away. He’d been carrying a metal case in each hand that I was pretty sure had to be ammunition of some sort. He was quick on the draw and actually had his pistol clear of the holster when I fired off two quick shots.

  “Fuck!” I cursed.

  I have no idea where my rounds had gone. All I know is that they hadn’t come anywhere near the target. My injured eye had thrown off my aim. I pointed my weapon down in the hopes that I would hit the pavement in front of the guy and then be able to adjust my next shot. The problem was that he was now extending his arm and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I’d been riding that razor’s edge between life and death during those days when I believed that I was infected and doomed to become one of the walking dead. I’d just discovered that I was going to live not more than a few hours ago, and here I was, about to die in a fight that I’d picked. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

  Two shots were fired, but I didn’t feel anything. I risked opening one eye just a crack to see my would-be attacker lying facedown on the asphalt. A dark stain was spreading from his body, turning the pavement a darker shade of gray. Standing behind him was the woman who’d seemed so hesitant as the fight loomed. I gave her a nod of thanks as she turned and directed her fire a
t a pair of figures running for the main doors to the church.

  I brought my own weapon up and fired in support. I saw wood explode from the solid door beyond my target indicating that I was wide to the left. I corrected and fired again. The body on the right staggered and then made a graceless dive onto the ground. The one on the left got perhaps two steps closer to the door before three rounds slammed into his back. He collided with the door that had been his goal, and then slid down it, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.

  I stepped over a body and discovered a person trying to crawl under one of the buses. I brought up my weapon, certain that I would not miss from this range as I planted my feet on either side of the crawling figure. I pulled the trigger just as the person realized that she was not alone and tried to roll over onto her back. Her body jerked once with the impact of the bullet that dug into her brain and ended her struggles forever. My only thought in that exact moment was relief that she hadn’t been able to make it onto her back. I hadn’t had to look into her eyes and see that plea to be spared. I wasn’t sure if my resolve to finish this with no prisoners could hold up to that sort of thing.

  All around me, the sounds of battle were now rising to a cacophony of gunfire and screams. From the roof, I heard Marshawn barking something and had to pull back from the conflict to process his words.

  “…escaping out the back!” he bellowed.