Dead Life (Book 4)

by Schleicher, D Harrison

  “That looks like it's going to be kind of uncomfortable,” I said.

  “Well I don't have much of a choice. Do I?” Rick said, anger flashing across his face once again. “I'll just lie on the ground back here.”

  “Steve, get him some blankets to lay on. Do you want the gate open Rick?”

  “Why, so you can keep an eye on me from the truck?”

  “Yeah,”Al said with a smile. “No, so you can get some fresh air.”

  “Close it,” Rick said. “I don't want you deciding to shoot me.”

  “Do you feel okay?” Al asked.

  “No, I've been blown up, had my ear shot off, and been in a car wreck. My head is pounding and I feel like shit.”

  “Do you want some aspirin.”

  “Just leave me alone for a while. I really just want to go to sleep.”

  I put some blankets on the ground for Rick and covered him up after he laid down. I jumped down from the back of the truck and Al closed the lift gate. He followed me over to where Gina waited by the passenger side of the truck.

  “How come we're stuck in the U-Haul?” Gina asked Al.

  “Just for tonight” Al said. “Cindy needs someplace comfortable to sleep.”

  “I was just giving you a hard time Al. Of course she needs a good night's sleep. Do you think she's going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, once she sleeps off whatever it is they gave her she'll be fine.”

  “What about Rick?” I asked.

  “He'll be fine. I bet he's already asleep.”

  “That's not what I meant.”

  “I know. We'll deal with that if it happens,” Al said and walked away.

  “He does that shit way too often,” Gina said.

  “What shit?”

  “That walking off shit. He says something all prophetic and then just walks off. Leaving us to figure out what to do.”

  “Don't worry about it. Rick's going to be okay. He seems fine, considering everything he's been through. Hop in. I'll drive.”

  We drove for a few miles until we came to a road headed south. I could tell Gina was worried about Rick. She sat sideways in her seat with the curtain to the back open, staring back at Rick the entire time. She kept me updated every few minutes, “he's still sleeping” or “he hasn't moved in awhile” and “I think he's going to be okay. He's breathing fine”. This went on for an hour before I finally asked her to stop. This pissed her off to no end and from that point on I got the silent treatment. Can't say I really minded.

  After a half an hour of silence we came to an overpass and crossed Highway 70. The area was pretty rural and there wasn't much around other than a gas station-convenience store-gun shop. I pulled up next to the cap where they filled the underground tanks and crawled into the back to get the hand pump. I turned on the lights we had rigged in the back expecting to awaken Rick. He didn't move but I could see he was breathing steadily so I grabbed the pump and climbed back through to the cab.

  “I'm going to see if there's any gas in those tanks.”

  Silence.

  “Look, I'm sorry I asked you to stop giving me moment to moment Rick updates.”

  Gina snapped her head around and glared at me. I could tell she was dying to let me have it while at the same time doing everything in her power to not break her vow of silence.

  “That was a lousy apology. Forgive me. Would you please come do look-out while Al and I transfer gas over?”

  Gina opened her door and got out of the cab. She walked well off from the trucks and stood stoically, rifle in hand, surveying the area. Al walked over to where I was standing and looked from Gina to me.

  “What's with her?”

  “Nothing, she's just mad at me.”

  “Probably with good reason,” he said, smiling.

  I started to say something. Al held up his hand. “Don't want to hear it. How's Rick?”

  “That's what she's mad about.” Al held his hand up again. He didn't want to hear it. “He's resting comfortably.”

  “Let's hurry up and get this done. I want to check out that gun shop. See if there's anything worth scavenging.”

  I pried the lid off the tank and ran the hose down. We were able to fill both trucks and the remaining spare tanks. The whole process went smoothly and we were done in less than half an hour. When we finished Al wanted me to go and tell Gina that we were going to check out the gun shop but I felt it best to send him to talk to her. He went over and I watched as she flailed her arms about while Al stood silently and nodded his head in agreement from time to time. When he finally came back he had a huge grin on his face.

  “She says you're an asshole for telling her to shut-up and a coward for sending me over.”

  “You listened to her but didn't want to hear what I had to say?”

  “That's not exactly correct. I didn't want to hear about it from her either. She didn't give me much of a choice.”

  “Well I didn't tell her to shut-up.” Al held his hand up once again. He still didn't want to hear it.

  “Let's get this over with.”

  I drew my sword and held my pistol in one hand as we walked to the gun shop. Al opened the door and looked in then pulled his head back out of the door letting it close.

  “It smells pretty rank in there. Either there are zombies in there or something's dead. You can put that sword away. It's too tight in there. You'd be better off with a knife.”

  I put the sword back in the scabbard and got my knife out. Al opened the door again and we went in. He went right, I went to the left. The smell hit me right away. Whatever was dead or undead in here had been here since this started. I could see a glass counter over a row of shelves that ran parallel to the door. The glass was broken out and nothing that would be of any value to us remained. Empty shell casings littered the floor with a few live cartridges mixed in but for the most part they were all spent. I carefully worked my way to the end of the shelf that blocked the door trying not to slip on the empty shell casings. Looking around the shelf I saw a partially eaten body. Most of the top of it's head was missing from an obvious bullet wound and it was lying on the ground in a dried puddle of blood. Al stood at the other end of the shelf looking at the same thing. We looked at each other and he pointed to the counter. Both of us made our way over from opposite ends of the room.

  On the ground behind the counter was the body of a woman. Still clutched in her hand was the pistol she had taken her own life with. Al went over and pried the gun from her grip, checked the safety, and slipped it into his rucksack. We went down a short hallway, each side flanked by a closed door. I pressed my ear to the door. Hearing nothing I reached for the door knob. Al stopped me and knocked once on the door. Almost immediately a loud crash came from the other side and the door shook in it's frame. Whatever was in there began moaning and clawing at the door trying to get at us. I aimed head high and fired twice through the door.

  “So much for trying to be quiet,” Al said stepping back and kicking the door open. The door met with some resistance and a loud crash came from within the room. We stood at the doorway looking into a small office. Papers were still floating to the ground from off of a desk that sat a few feet back from the door. First one hand then another came to rest on top of the desk. Then we saw the top of a head as a zombie rose from behind the desk. I could see where my two shots had hit it. One had blown off it's lower jaw and the other had gone through the creatures neck.

  “Not bad shooting,” Al said. Then he shot it between the eyes. “Check that other door. It's probably the toilet. Be a gentleman and knock before you just barge in.”

  I went to the door and kicked the bottom of it with my foot. There was really no reason to knock. With all the noise we had just made, if something was in there I'd have heard it by now. I opened the door and went in. On the floor was the body of a little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten years old. One of the three adults in the gun shop had probably taken her life before they had turned. My guess would have
been the woman. Who knows though. Could have been any of them. I closed the door and went back to the office. When I got there Al was in the process of clearing out the gun safe that was in the room.

  “With these rifles, the pistol, and the ammo out front, not a bad haul,” Al said. “Was the bathroom clear?”

  “Yeah, it was empty.”

  “Good, I need to take a piss.”

  “I wouldn't do it in there. Somebody left a floater in the can and the lake dried up.”

  “Thanks, unless you want to see this you might want to turn your back while I reel this python out.”

  I went back out to the actual gun shop to find Gina right outside the door looking in. She saw me and opened the door and stepped in.

  “Everything okay? I heard gunshots.”

  “Sorry, I should have thought of that. Yeah, we're fine. We found one in the back. How's Rick doing?”

  “Not a peep out of him. I better get back out there.”

  Before she could get away I took her by the wrist and pulled her to me. “I'm sorry about being such an asshole earlier.”

  “Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. It's been a tough day is all.”

  “Well I'm still sorry. The last thing I want is for you to be mad at me. You were just worried about Rick.”

  “I'm still worried about Rick. I've got to get back out there,” she said, looking around the room. “Where's Al?”

  “Taking a piss.”

  Gina turned and walked out the door. “File that under 'didn't need to know',” Gina said as the door closed.

  “You asked,” I said to the empty room.

  “I asked what?” Al said coming down the hall.

  “Nothing, just talking to myself.”

  “That's a bad sign, talking to yourself. They say it's okay though, as long as you don't answer yourself.”

  I just shook my head and started gathering what ammunition I could into my bag. Al sat the duffel bag he'd filled with rifles from the safe down and filled a bag from behind the counter. I started picking up the loose ammunition from the ground but Al stopped me. He wanted to get back on the road. We only had about an hour of daylight left and still needed to find a place to stop for the night. Before we left Al found a marking pen and piece of paper from behind the counter. He wrote NO GUNS NO AMMO CLEANED OUT on the paper, pulled some duct tape from his bag, and as we left stuck the sign on the front window of the shop.

  “That won't stop someone from going in there and looking anyway,” I said.

  “Then they'll only have themselves to blame when they go in there and find those four dead bodies.”

  “Three dead bodies,” I said this knowing that Al had gone into the bathroom even though I'd said it was clear.

  “You're not much of a liar Steve. You need to work on your technique.”

  “I'll do that. What was my tell.”

  “That's hard to say. It was all pretty bad.”

  “I was just trying to save you from seeing another dead little kid.”

  “I appreciate that,” Al said as we walked to the back of the U-Haul where Gina waited for us.

  “Appreciate what?” Gina asked.

  “Steve lying to me.”

  “Yeah, he has a problem with that,” she said with a smile, referring to a time long before this all started when I had misled her about my true age.

  “That was a misunderstanding is all. I never lied to you. You made an assumption and I just let you go with it.”

  Gina laughed and threw her arms around me. “You are so full of shit,” Gina said then she stuck her tongue in my ear and bit my earlobe.

  “Alright you two. Save it for tonight. Come on, open the back of the truck little girl. Our hands are full.”

  “What about Rick? He's still sleeping.”

  “The cab of the Ford is full and I don't want to put this shit in the bed. It looks like it might rain. Besides we should check on him anyway.”

  Gina reached out to grab the strap on the lift gate and I looked at the back of the truck. Blood was leaking under the gate and had just started to drip on to the back bumper. Al must have seen the same thing because we dropped our bags at the same time and both reached for Gina to stop her. We were too late. She gave a light tug on the strap and the gate slowly went up. From this point everything happened really fast even though time seemed to slow down.

  What had once been Rick stood at the back of the truck in a puddle of his own blood. His face and the front of his shirt were covered in it. His right hand, wrist, and half his forearm dangled from the handcuff still attached to his left wrist. He must have chewed through his arm to free himself from the shelving. His gaze had gone up with the gate as it had risen but now he looked down and his attention focused on us. His clouded eyes settled on Gina and he gave out a low moan that rose in volume to a loud roar.

  He raised his arms, blood dripping from the severed stump of his right arm. The rest of his right arm swaying back and forth, still attached by the handcuffs to his left wrist. Then he stepped off the back of the truck. Falling forward his arm hit Gina waist high and knocked her to the ground. His face planted hard and a loud crunching sound filled the air. Gina scooted back away from him as fast as she could from a seated position. Al and I stepped between the two aiming our pistols at our fallen friend. He looked up and snarled at us through broken teeth. His nose was smashed flat and his jaw hung loose from his face.

  We stood transfixed neither one of us wanting to shoot him. I heard a shot fired from behind me and a bullet hit Rick between eyes. I silently thanked Gina for doing what I couldn't; releasing our friend from what he had become. His head slumped to the ground. Al and I turned around, ran to Gina, and reached down to help her up. She waved us off, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

  The gunshot had attracted a few zombies and we knew more were on the way. Soon the area would be crawling with the undead. There was no way it would be safe for us to stay here and bury Rick. At the same time we knew we couldn't just leave him like this so we decided to burn his body. Al and I drug him into the gun shop and poured gasoline all around the room. I lit the fire then we ran back to where Gina stood with her sword fighting off the ever increasing number of zombies.

  “Are we done here?” Gina asked.

  “It's not much of a send off but yeah we're done,” I said.

  “Then let's light these bastards up and get out of here,” she said pulling her rifle off of her shoulder.

  Al, Gina, and I sprayed the growing horde with automatic gunfire and made our way to our vehicles. I drove while Gina sat slumped against the passenger door. Both of us were crying for our friend and for ourselves. As I drove away from the fire all I could think was..........Who would be next?

  Epilogue

  Fires and explosions filled the early morning as a lone driver leaves the burning missile silo. The Jeep Wrangler was a standard transmission which made it difficult to drive with one arm. Remembering to breathe while fighting with the clutch, stick shift, and gas pedal was proving to be more than he could handle but the breathing was important and had to be maintained. Without the breathing his heart would stop, causing his brain to shutdown, and without his higher brain functions he would become just another one of the undead.

  What used to be Dr. Jeffery Parks made his way to the northwest. He knew where he was headed; Fort Leonard Wood, but had no idea how to get there. He was hoping to find hitch hikers along the way. Best case scenario, they could tell him which way to go; before he ate them.

  Dead Life Shorts

  Dear reader,

  When writing the series I constantly throw in characters that come and go in a flash and thought to myself that it might be nice to have a little back story on some of them. Hence this book. Yes it's only two very short stories but I plan on adding to it as the series grows. By the time I write Dead Life Book 275 this should be quite a collection of short stories.

  While waiting for my editor to finish correcting my man
y mistakes I decided to do this instead of pacing back and forth harassing her. Plus it gives her something else to edit.

  I'm probably going to put this at the end of Book 4 also so if your reading it there look for my compilation on Amazon.com download it and give it a marvelous review (it's free just do it). After that keep an eye out for updates. I imagine the way I'll handle it is just add new stories as I write them. We'll see how it goes.

  The first short, Edgar's Story, is from a character you'll meet in Book 4. Edgar is somebody Tim, John (Sarge), and Lily run across later in the book. He seems like a nice guy and the three of them go out of their way to help him out. Along the way they learn that people aren't always what they seem to be. Hell maybe they didn't learn anything at all. We'll have to wait and see.

  The second short, Hidden, was first released in my good friend RR Haywood's blog. I asked him if he cared that I put it in here. He told me it was my story and I could wipe my ass with it if I wanted to. I don't know, seems a little harsh to me. I'll have to print out a copy on the computer and give it some thought. Rich writes the zombie series The Undead. It's a great series and if you haven't read it yet I recommend you give it a look see. Anyway, Hidden is from a character introduced in Book 3 and asks the age old question...zombie or not a zombie?

  There you have it. I hope you enjoy.

  Turns out Amazon wouldn't let me make the short stories free, bastards. Never mind the review.

  Edgar's Story

  A Dead Life Short

  Being trapped in the house the past two days had just about pushed Edgar over the edge. He had closed the bank on Tuesday emptying the safe of the two hundred twenty thousand dollars cash reserve they had on hand. He was sure he could hear his father turning over in his grave when he'd locked the doors and made off with the cash. It wasn't like he would be re-opening the bank anytime soon. The television news broadcasts of the dead attacking the living had stopped yesterday but from what he was hearing on the radio over the Emergency Broadcast System this was truly the end. Jenny, Edgar's wife, didn't want to believe what she'd seen and heard on the TV and radio but Edgar had seen it up close and personal for himself.