The sixth and final explosion hit her in the back like a supersonic wave. Her feet left the ground, and she was thrown head over heels through the air. Molten heat enfolded her limbs, and her eyes were fixed on the way she’d come.
The bridge was gone. There was nothing left but a mess of broken steel, concrete, and tar. Flames and black smoke roiled among the ruins, incinerating everything it touched, including the horde.
The undead were no more, and neither was she.
***
“Dylan, wake up. You’re having a nightmare,” an insistent voice called. It nagged at her consciousness until she was dragged from slumber. “Wake up already.”
“Wait, what?” she said, raising her head from the pillow. It stuck to her cheek, a pool of dried drool the culprit. Her mouth tasted like crap, and her vision blurred when she looked around. “Where am I?”
“We’re at Rita’s place, remember?” the voice answered.
“Rita’s?” Dylan repeated, blinking at the speaker. Tara’s face came into focus, purple shadows decorating the hollows beneath her eyes.
“That’s right,” Tara added with a frown, one hand attempting to smooth her knotted hair into a semblance of order. “You lot wanted to party, and you dragged me along against my better judgment.”
“Oh, yeah. Now I remember,” Dylan said, pushing herself upright. Her skull pounded, and the blood drained from her cheeks in a rush. With one hand pressed to her forehead, she waited for the dizzy spell to pass. “I feel like shit, and you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Tara replied with a grumble. “I won’t be able to show my face at the laboratory today, thanks to you.”
Dylan squinted at Tara. “Stop bitching, will you? Nobody forced you to have all those tequilas last night.”
“Tequila? I had tequila? No wonder I feel like a train wreck,” Tara said, falling back onto the carpet with a loud groan.
“You and me both,” Dylan agreed.
“Morning, you two,” a cheery voice announced before the curtains were swept aside to let in a flood of bright light.
“Arg, you’re killing me,” Dylan cried, shielding her eyes.
“Put it off, put it off,” Tara said, making her displeasure known with a shriek.
“I made coffee,” Amanda said instead, smiling at them from behind the kitchen counter. “Come and get it!”
Dylan perked up when the smell of freshly ground coffee beans hit her nostrils, and she managed to get to her feet. She stumbled toward the kitchen and accepted a cup of the hot brew. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Amanda said, sliding a couple of painkillers across the marble countertop along with a glass of water.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Dylan said, grabbing the pills.
“I know,” Amanda said. “You can make it up to me later.”
Tara joined them soon after, and she accepted Amanda’s ministrations with equal gratitude. Her hands shook as she swallowed the chalky tablets before sipping her coffee. “Thanks, Amanda.”
“You look like death,” Amanda answered with a wide grin.
“Well, I feel like one of my lab specimens,” Tara said, eyeing her trembling fingers with a grimace. “I’ve even got the shakes.”
“I don’t feel so hot myself,” Dylan said, shooting Amanda a baleful look. “How come you look so perky?”
“I’ve been up for a while, and I’ve had time to get over the worst,” Amanda admitted. “It’s amazing what caffeine, ibuprofen, and a hot shower can do for you.”
“A hot shower sounds heavenly,” Dylan replied.
“There are plenty of towels. Rita won’t mind,” Amanda said.
“Let me finish my coffee first,” Dylan said, massaging her throbbing temples with her fingertips.
“How about you, Tara?” Amanda offered. “Are you up for a quick shower? Or I could make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”
“Not for me, thanks,” Tara said, sliding her empty coffee cup toward Amanda. “I need to get home.”
Amanda shrugged. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. I need to rip Saul a new one,” Tara said.
“Don’t be too hard on him. He just wanted you to have some fun,” Amanda said. “You did have fun, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did. Despite myself,” Tara conceded.
“There, see?” Amanda said with a low laugh. “That wasn’t so hard to admit.”
“Yeah, you’re kind of cool when you don’t have that stick up your ass,” Dylan said.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Whatever. At least, I can hold a note.”
Dylan chuckled. “True. I suck at karaoke, but you, my friend, aren’t half bad.”
“Anyway, I’ll see you guys later,” Tara said, gathering her coat and bag.
“Give the lab a skip, will you? It can wait for a day,” Dylan said.
“Oh, don’t you worry. My bed is calling to me,” Tara vowed as she reached the front door. “Tell Rita I said goodbye.”
“Will do,” Dylan said before turning back to Amanda. “Speaking of which. Where is Rita?”
Amanda frowned. “She went to the bathroom.”
“This long?”
“Maybe she passed out again. She was in pretty rough shape this morning.”
“No, kidding. She drank most of the tequila last night,” Dylan said, wrinkling her nose.
Amanda shuddered. “Thank goodness I only had a couple of shots.”
“Let me check up on her,” Dylan said, sliding off her stool. “I need to pee anyway.”
“Good idea.”
Dylan weaved her way down the hall toward the single bathroom and knocked on the door. “Rita? Are you in there?”
At first, nothing but silence met her ears, and she repeated the process. “Rita! Are you there?”
Faint sobs echoed through the cracked wooden door, and Dylan reached for the knob. “Rita, are you okay? Do you need help?”
When Rita didn’t answer, she twisted the handle. “Hold on. I’m coming in.”
The door swung wide, and Dylan froze in the entrance. Bile rushed up her throat as the coppery scent of blood flooded her nostrils. Rita lay on the floor, cradling her injured arm. The bandages were soaked in crimson, and the cream-colored tiles were splattered with the stuff. “Rita, what did you do?”
Rita stared at Dylan with glassy eyes. “What needed to be done.”
“You idiot, how could you?” Dylan cried, taking a step forward. Her boot crunched on something hard, and she looked down. It was a metal screw—one of those that belonged in Rita’s arm.
“Oh, God.” Raising her voice, Dylan shouted, “Amanda come quick. It’s Rita.”
Footsteps sounded as Amanda sprinted down the hall. She appeared in the open doorway and took in the scene with wide eyes. “Holy crap. What did she do?”
“What she’s been threatening to do all along,” Dylan said. “She got rid of her arm for good.”
***
Hours later, Dylan sat on a couch in the waiting room. Her head hung low over her knees, and her headache had yet to abate. She accepted the cup of tepid tea Brenda handed her with a grunt. “How much longer?”
Brenda shrugged. “It should be any moment now.”
Amanda didn’t speak. Instead, she paced the floor of the tiny room with restless strides. Her shirt bore the stains of Rita’s blood, as did Dylan’s. Together, they’d carried their friend across the grounds to the emergency room where a horrified Ethan greeted them. Minutes later, she was rushed into the theater.
Now, they waited.
Finally, the door opened to admit Ethan. He looked tired. Tired and resigned.
Dylan jumped to her feet. “How is she?”
“Could you save her arm?” Amanda added.
Ethan shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I had to amputate.”
Dylan closed her eyes, horrified. “I can’t believe it.”
“I had no choice,” Ethan continued. “She made sure there was nothing left to work with. The b
ones were shattered, and most of the pins and rods were torn out of place. She mangled the limb.”
“Damn it,” Amanda cried. “Why did she do it? We talked about this last night. I thought she was over it.”
“So did I,” Dylan said, sadness filling her heart.
“She was playing you. All of you,” Ethan continued with a deep sigh. “In the end, she got what she wanted.”
“What now?” Dylan asked.
“Now you go. There is nothing more to be done for Rita, and she needs to rest. You can come back tomorrow,” Ethan said.
“Can’t we see her before we leave?” Dylan asked.
“I’d rather not. She’s heavily sedated,” Ethan replied.
“But—” Amanda protested.
“Go home, both of you. It looks like you could use the rest yourselves,” Ethan said. When Dylan and Amanda hesitated, he added, “She’s not going anywhere, I promise.”
“Fine, I’ll be back tomorrow,” Dylan conceded.
“Me too,” Amanda said.
Together, they left the infirmary in silence, their footsteps echoing through the long corridors. Outside, they found an anxious-looking Nick, his shoulders hunched. “We need to talk.”
“I’ll head on home,” Amanda said, flashing them a look.
“Thanks,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry our night had to end this way. I had fun.”
“Me too. See you tomorrow,” Amanda replied.
“I heard about Rita. Is she okay?” Nick asked once she was gone.
“No, she’s not,” Dylan replied before explaining what happened.
“That’s awful, poor girl. Did she really think Saul would dump her from the team if she took too long to recover?”
“I guess so,” Dylan said.
Nick shook his head. “Foolishness.”
“He’d never do that to her. Too bad, she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Agreed. I’m here about something else, though,” his expression somber.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked.
Nick explained about the southern communities going dark one after the other. “I’m worried. Something is going on. Something bad.”
“What do you propose we do about it?”
“I’d like you to join me on a scouting trip. We need to investigate and find out what happened before it hits us,” Nick said.
Dylan’s eyebrows lifted. “You want me to come along?”
“Yes, I do,” Nick said. “It will be dangerous, though.”
“Count me in,” Dylan said, excitement filling her chest. “I could use a break from all of this.”
“Excellent,” Nick said, offering his elbow. “Now, let’s go home. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and we need to rest.”
Dylan looped her arm through his and leaned into his side. “As long as I get to spend it with you, I’m happy.”
“What about Rita?” Nick asked.
“Let’s stop by Amanda’s on our way home,” Dylan said. “I’ll explain the situation to her, and she can keep an eye on Rita until I get back.”
“Good idea.”
If we ever get back, Dylan reflected, remembering her nightmare from that morning. For some reason, it unsettled her, and she hated being unsure of anything. After a moment, she brushed the thought aside. It’s just a dream. Forget about it.
Chapter 7 - Big Joe
Meridian, Mississippi; 10:27 am.
Joe drove through the streets of Meridian with a sense of déjà vu. He knew the town well. He’d spent the better part of his childhood biking through the suburbs with his friends and exploring the countryside. It was all still the same, and yet, nothing was the same.
The sixth-largest city in Mississippi, Meridian, boasted a population of over thirty-five-thousand souls. While that might seem like nothing to some, it was a lot to Joe who preferred solitude to crowded spaces. Now, he wondered how many of those people were still alive.
His eyes fell on the fuel gauge, and a muttered curse escaped his lips. It was time to fill up again. They’d been traveling east on the I 20 for the better part of three days now. During that time, they’d scavenged for food and fuel as they went, never stopping for long in one place. The horde was left far behind as they crossed Louisiana’s state lines, but he refused to stop. Not until he knew they were safe.
Navigating by memory, Joe turned off the I 20 and headed toward the Walmart Supercenter. It would have everything they needed to carry on with their journey.
“Alright, we’re taking a short break, everyone,” Joe called out, pulling the double-cab Ford into the deserted parking lot.
Sandy woke up with a start in the passenger seat next to him, her hands flying as she checked her shirt pockets for her glasses. Her short-sighted gaze fixed onto his face, and she blinked. “Huh? What did I miss?”
“We’re taking a quick break,” Joe repeated, reaching for his rifle. “We need food, fuel, and water.”
“It’s about time. I need to pee,” Candy huffed, throwing him a mean look. She still hadn’t forgiven him for giving up on their home, and Joe didn’t blame her. With every mile that passed, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. Maybe, we should’ve stayed. Perhaps we could’ve ridden it out in the storm shelter.
But, Joe couldn’t risk the lives of his newfound family on a maybe. “Ten minutes, everyone. No more. Do what you have to do and remember the rules.”
Candy jumped out of the vehicle, her machete in her right hand. Her eyes scanned their surroundings, and her posture was alert. Pride filled Joe’s chest at the sight. She was growing up fast. Soon, she wouldn’t need him for protection anymore.
Xavier didn’t say a word, however, and he wore a shuttered look. Joe doubted he could hear anything through the music blasting into his ears via the earphones attached to an old iPhone. He treated the thing like gold and carried a solar charger for it wherever he went.
Ordinarily, Joe didn’t mind, but rules were rules. As Xavier prepared to exit the truck, he reached over and yanked one bud from the boy’s ear. “Xavier, no music out in the open. You need to stay alert.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” came the sullen reply.
Joe sighed, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. Handling an infected horde was easier than coping with two teenagers in a sulk. Lord, help me.
Sandy’s warm touch brought him back to the present. “They just need a little time, hun. They’ll come around eventually.”
“You think so?” he asked, gazing into her bright eyes.
“I know so. Don’t let it bother you too much,” she added. “You did what you thought was right back there.”
“Was it?” he said, silently pleading with her to relieve his burden.
Sandy shrugged. “That’s not for me to say, or even you. Leave it in the hands of God.”
Joe sighed. “Thank you, Sandy. You always know what to say.”
She smiled, her hand lingering on his shoulder. Joe gazed at her kind face and fought the urge to kiss her. For months now, he’d meant to tell her how he felt, but the time was never right. Will it ever be right?
Finally, she pulled away, and the moment passed. As Joe climbed out of the truck, he made a silent vow to declare himself once they’d escaped the horde. If we ever do.
He set about siphoning gas from abandoned cars nearby while Sandy searched overturned carts for supplies. It was somewhat surprising what one could find that way, and she soon scored a case of water and a few cans of fruit. “Look. Peaches!”
“Swell,” Joe said. “Not my favorite, but it’ll do.”
Candy made her way toward the Walmart, and Joe called out, “Take Xavier with you. It could be dangerous in there.”
“Fine.” Xavier slouched along behind her, a crossbow in his hands.
“And stay close to the entrance,” Joe added.
“Whatever,” the two shouted back as they disappeared into the building. Despite his misgivings, he let them be. They were old enough to look after themsel
ves, and both of them were experts with their chosen weapons. At some point, a person had to let go.
Sandy threw him an approving look. “You’re learning.”
“I’m trying to,” he replied with a grunt. After filling up the Ford’s tank and their spare jerry cans, he checked the tire pressure and oil level. While he worked, he checked his watch. When ten minutes had passed, he let out a loud whistle calling everyone back to the truck.
Sandy was there within seconds, loading the last of her scavenged supplies into the back. As she climbed into the passenger side, she grinned. “That was a good haul. I even found paper towels.”
Joe returned her smile until he noticed the absence of Candy and Xavier. He whistled a second time, long and loudly. This time, he heard an answering shout and heaved a sigh of relief. “About time.”
Slamming the hood shut, he walked toward the driver’s side but paused when he heard more yelling.
“Joe, help!”
“Help us!”
He whirled around and spotted Candy and Xavier running toward him, their feet flying across the tar. Behind them, a cluster of infected followed in hot pursuit. Their faces were twisted into ugly snarls, and they were fast.
Too fast.
“Damn it,” Joe cursed, snapping the rifle to his shoulder. With the butt pressed to his shoulder, he called upon a lifetime’s experience spent barking squirrels in the woods. Breathing out, he steadied his aim. Candy and Xavier relied on him. If he missed, they died.
He lined up his first shot, a woman with long red hair. It flew behind her like a flag, the color vivid against her pale skin. The black veins that crisscrossed her body looked like a road map leading to hell, and in a way, he guessed it was.
Joe squeezed the trigger, and her head snapped back with the force of the bullet. She collapsed to the ground, and he shifted his aim to the next. That left three more, and he quickly dispatched the second and third.
But the fourth wasn’t so easy. The infected man wore a crinkled suit, and his hair was slicked back. One foot still wore a polished dress shoe while the other was bare. His lips were drawn back to reveal pearly white teeth ready to sink into Candy’s tender flesh.
Joe stared down the barrel of his gun, fear worming its cold fingers into his heart. The infected’s head was right behind Candy’s. The two formed a mirror image. Hers frightened to death while his hungered for death. They were so close. Too close. What if I miss?
Rise of the Undead (Book 6): Apocalypse Z Page 6