DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn

by Brown, TW

  Vix did not miss the narrowing of Gemma’s eyes. Still, she would worry about that later. As she continued to scan the area inside the fence, she saw what she was pretty sure had to be a garden. These women had done a very good job making that place secure, and it was obvious that they were thinking long term.

  There was a huge, covered fire pit and a large cauldron was hanging over it. She could see where a small creek wound through, which would supply them with plenty of water. They had three separate garden areas and what looked like at least two burn pile areas.

  The barricade that surrounded the area that they had secured was probably twenty feet high. The bottom portion took her a moment to figure out.

  “That’s interesting,” Vix said as she studied the fence through her binoculars. “It looks like they stacked baled hay or something about ten feet wide and around ten feet high for the base of that barrier.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a very good idea,” Harold muttered as he studied the scene below as well. “Any attack by raiders during the summer and it would be an inferno if they don’t keep it soaked.”

  “They do have a creek running through that back pasture,” Vix pointed out.

  “Still take a lot of water.” Harold shook his head, but continued to survey the area.

  “Maybe they aren’t worried about raiders,” Vix finally said.

  “Then they are daft,” Harold retorted, but he was obviously zeroing in on something, because his voice had a distant and distracted quality. “Or bloody brilliant.”

  “What?” Vix asked, trying to take a closer look and see what might have drawn his attention.

  “They have metal bracing throughout, though I have no idea where they came by so much, or how they welded it into place. They could actually set fire to the hay bales themselves and create a wall of fire. I guess that would be some sort of last resort, but the structure would likely hold. And they have a trench dug all the way around on the inside. It is unconventional…but it would be effective.”

  “I think we just found our new home,” Vix announced.

  “Great,” Gemma whispered to herself.

  ***

  Juan opened the door for Mackenzie when they arrived home. Partially he did this because she made such a big deal about what a “gentleman” he was when he did such things. The other reason presented itself a few seconds later when Tigah bounded up and bowled into the woman, covering her face with amazingly slobbery doggy kisses.

  Still just a puppy at maybe ten or so months old, Tigah was already big enough that he could look Mackenzie in the eye when he planted his massive Newfoundland paws on her shoulders.

  “Okay, boy,” Mackenzie said with a muffled laugh as she was rewarded with another round of enthusiastic doggy kisses.

  Juan closed the door and turned up the Coleman lantern. He was not looking forward to the day when they ran out of batteries. Lately, the darkness was starting to unnerve him. He constantly felt a certain degree of uneasiness and discomfort.

  “Okay, spill it,” Mackenzie said as she moved to the couch and sat down, patting the spot beside her.

  Juan only briefly thought about trying to pretend that everything was fine, but he knew better. He would never sit down across from her at a card table; she could read him like a book.

  “I know that you predicted I would be a nominee, but to go from nominee to president or whatever the hell they are calling this job in a matter of twenty minutes…it wasn’t supposed to go down like that. Nobody else even got nominated.”

  “Sweetie, like it or not, you are the leader of this community. It is you who has gone out time and again to bring people back. Now, we are populated with a bunch of folks that you, for lack of any other way to look at it, saved.”

  “I just invited them to come stay here with us,” Juan protested. “Most of those people were doing fine when we would stumble upon them. I didn’t save anybody…except maybe that one group.”

  “Like it or not, Juan Hoya…you are the first Latino president.” Mackenzie fixed him with her most serious expression until she could not help herself and burst into a chuckle.

  Tigah looked from her to Juan and decided that no further scratches behind the ear were immediately forthcoming, so, with a huff, he plopped down on the floor with a heavy thud.

  “First ex-felon too,” Juan quipped.

  “You need to get over that junk,” Mackenzie scolded. “It is a new world and you are living a new life. The only person that still remembers that crap is you.”

  That was not entirely true, Juan thought. That brought him to his next point.

  “Did you tell April to make that nomination?”

  “Nope.”

  “And then she just ducks out after.”

  “Yeah,” Mackenzie said as she leaned into Juan and let him wrap one of his arms around her. “I admit…that was kind of weird, but then, she has not really been the same since you guys got back.”

  They stayed on the couch for a while until things began to turn a bit more intimate. Later that night, Juan lay awake in bed, Mackenzie beside him snoring softly. Tigah had managed to worm his way onto the bed and was doing a great job of cutting the circulation off in Juan’s legs. As seemed to be the norm lately, he was having trouble falling asleep. If it was not the bad dreams, then it was his mind going at a million miles an hour. Tonight it was the latter.

  Juan had replayed the events of the evening in his mind. He was coming to grips as best he could with this role. All his life he had been on the fringe. And now, here he was…the elected leader of a community of a few hundred survivors. Well, the first thing he needed to do is act like a leader and surround himself with people who actually knew what they were doing.

  Maybe it would not be terrible, he thought. In fact, this would definitely keep him from having to go out on supply runs. Surely the community would not want him putting himself at risk any more.

  At first, Juan thought he was imagining things. His eyes flicked down to Tigah who slept in peaceful oblivion. Surely if there were somebody trying to get into the house, the dog would react. Juan laughed to himself at the thought.

  Who would break in these days? he thought. That is something from the old world.

  The sudden and distinct creak of a floorboard in the hallway was enough to dispel the sense of calm that he had been working to instill in himself. Juan sat up in bed. Tigah did not respond in the slightest, other than to snuggle in closer to Mackenzie when he extricated his legs from under the huge canine.

  His feet hit the floor without a sound. His mind instantly gave him a reminder of where every single creaky board in the flooring was located as he very quietly drew his machete from its sheath where it hung beside his bed.

  Realizing that he was buck naked, Juan briefly considered tugging on the sweatpants that still lay in a heap on the floor beside the bed. Another creak changed his mind. Since zombies don’t creep, this had to be a person of the living, breathing variety. Maybe being confronted by a large, angry, naked man would give him just the slightest edge as the person was hopefully caught just a little off guard.

  Pausing long enough to tighten his grip on the machete, Juan took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. A dark figure stood silhouetted at the far end of the hall where it opened out to the living room. Juan did not need to see the face, he could recognize the outline.

  “April?”

  There was a sound, like she was sucking in her breath to hold it. And then…something stuck him right in the throat. Several things tried to fight for position in Juan’s mind at once. Above them all was the simple thought: Protect Mackenzie!

  Juan took a few steps forward, but already he was feeling like the world was slipping away. His body was not paying any attention to the commands that his brain was sending.

  The darkness seemed to be deepening and the floor was tilting first one way, and then another. His feet were becoming too heavy to lift and he suddenly found himself on his knees.


  Sliding down with his back against the wall, Juan now tried to yell a warning, but his voice betrayed him and nothing above a pitiful squeak came out. He felt his grip release on the machete. His last thought as darkness came to claim him was that he had failed.

  ***

  “There is absolutely nothing for miles in any direction,” Glenn said, tapping the map. “So she has to be here someplace.”

  “I think she is hiding out in one of the mansions,” Cynthia said. “In fact, I would start our search over by where we initially found her.”

  “If she has even a lick of sense, she would put some distance between herself and that area. She has to know that is the first place we will look.” Kyle was pacing, continuously flexing his fingers and then balling them into fists.

  “And that is exactly why we still need to search that area,” Cynthia pressed. “It is that whole thing about out-thinking and second-guessing. If we are certain she is not there…what better place to hide.”

  “I hate to say this,” Glenn started, but paused when everybody looked at him. He knew it was the right thing, but it didn’t make it feel any better. “We are going to need to split up.”

  “Absolutely not!” Cynthia snapped.

  “He’s right,” Mel’s voice said from the bed she had been laid in when they got her back and after Cynthia had assured them that she was going to be okay. “We need to get bicycles and get out there right now.”

  The petite blonde was sitting up and already slipping her shoes back on. She only staggered a little bit the first time that she tried to stand. Kyle rushed to help her, but she slapped him away.

  “I can do it!” Mel closed her eyes for a second, but quickly resumed gathering up her gear.

  “Then we need to do this right,” Glenn stated, tapping the map he had laid out on the table. “We section off the area and each of us searches that section. If we leapfrog each other, it will allow us to check in with one another so we don’t completely lose track.”

  It took some convincing, but eventually even Mel saw the logic. She hated the idea of having to stop her search to check in, but Kyle had insisted, saying that he did not care to lose his son and his wife in a twenty-four hour period.

  As they each geared up, their lack of technology was not going unnoticed. It was Cynthia who said that they should take the flare guns.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Glenn, Kyle, and Mel were climbing down the rope ladder and venturing out into the world of the undead. Cynthia had managed to hobble to the balcony railing to see them all off, cursing her injury the entire time.

  She watched them all until they vanished from sight.

  Glenn would head south on a road identified as S. Spanish Valley Dr. He would go all the way back to the huge quarry that bordered the southernmost end of what was once the town of Moab, Utah. He would work his way back to their treehouse with explicit instructions to break off the search and return before nightfall.

  Mel and Kyle would leapfrog each other heading west first, and then north. The city proper was still a good distance away and there was no way that they would reach it today. The hope was that they could search as much of the suburbs as possible in the next two days and then the trio would move to the city if need be.

  Cynthia would do all she could, which basically amounted to posting up on top of the roof of the treehouse and doing a constant three-sixty with the binoculars. Since they only had three flare guns, she would be the lone person unable to signal the others. However, if she did spot anything, it would be easiest for her to keep eyes on the location until the others returned.

  Mel continued to go over every single detail of the mystery woman’s brief stay. It had been clear from the start that her interest had been in the child. The question was why. In a world overrun by the undead, a child was, for lack of a better way to look at it, a liability. They were a drain on supplies and came with no guarantees that they would be quiet if the need arose.

  As she pedaled from house to house, she kept her search of each premises brief. She had to figure that it would be obvious if a place was inhabited.

  By the end of the day, her frustration was peaking. She had not come across one thing that indicated a living person had been in the vicinity at any time since early on in the zombie uprising.

  She was about to begin the return trip. She would turn down this one last street that sported a cluster of duplexes. She would not have time to search any, but she could cruise through and scout the area. They would all three be together tomorrow and the search would begin here. However, the entire day had been an absolute bust with the exception of the storm blowing through and giving way to the sun that was now sinking behind distant hills to the west. The last thing that she expected was the naked man who jumped out from behind the burnt out pile of wreckage where no less than five vehicles had collided and started a fire that looked to have taken at least two houses out in the process.

  With only a few seconds to react, she instantly decided that she would come out the better if she simply slammed into the individual. After all, she was in full protective attire which consisted largely of a combination of baseball catcher’s equipment and some actual riot gear that they had looted from an abandoned police station several months ago.

  She hit the man and did her best to break her own fall as the bicycle flipped over on impact. As predicted, the man did not fare well in the least.

  Scrambling to her feet, Mel jerked the flare gun from its holster on her belt and fired skyward. Then, drawing her weapon, she stalked toward the downed individual who was lying face down in the middle of a growing pool of blood. Using her booted foot, she rolled the man over.

  “P-p-please,” the man coughed up blood as he tried to speak. And now that she was close, Mel was getting a much better look at this individual’s body. It was covered in scars from what looked to be scores of bites. “Don’t let them get me.”

  Of course the request was moot. The man began to convulse, and then was still. Mel’s eyes glanced skyward; two flares had been fired in answer to hers. The men were on the way.

  Drawing her blade, Mel plunged the piece of steel into the man’s head, then she climbed on the cold, blackened wreckage and waited for the arrival of Kyle and Glenn.

  ***

  Chad hit the ground with a solid thud that almost knocked the wind from him. Fortunately, his grip had not lessened on his daughter and he was able to struggle to his feet with surprising ease. In fact, he was briefly reminded of a better time. For just an instant, he allowed his mind to enjoy a memory that seemed even older than it was.

  His mind’s eye flashed the perfect image of him tucking his sleeping daughter into bed after she had fallen asleep in his lap while he had read her favorite story, Green Eggs & Ham. Of course, it had always helped that he used funny voices when he read it to her just before bedtime each night.

  Almost painfully, his mind came back to the present. The undead were coming from around the front of the house…the rear of the house…and the few he had flown over when he jumped from the window.

  The first two steps were difficult, and that was when Chad realized that something was wrong with his right leg. Glancing down, he quickly realized the problem. A large shard of glass jutted from his calf. He had to kneel so that he could keep his daughter in his arms. After a slight adjustment of her still unconscious form, he reached down with a gloved hand, grabbed it, and yanked it out.

  His eyes studied the bloody piece of glass with an almost detached curiosity. He had difficulty realizing that it had been in his flesh just a moment ago. Tossing it aside, Chad rose and started back across the park.

  He reached the place where he and Dustin had dismounted and was only a little surprised to discover that both of their horses were gone. He only felt the anger bubble up for the briefest of moments. The man had done what he felt needed to be done in order to save three children. He knew with certainty that he would have let not only those children die if it gave hi
m a chance to save his daughter…but Dustin as well. This was the new way of the world…but was it really so new?

  He looked down at his daughter and allowed his eyes to examine her arms now that he had time. He could not get over what she had done. For some reason, she had sliced her forearms, and equally, if not more inexplicably, she had used a heavy duty staple gun to close up the wounds. And was that a bead of glue down the length?

  He would have to get her cleaned up as soon as possible and have the injuries given a more proper treatment. However, the moans of the walking dead were closing in; it was time to get on the move.

  Chad picked up his daughter and headed into the woods. His mind was taking inventory of his limited supplies. He had lost his canteen at some point, but he still had his pack. That meant he had at least a little bit of beef jerky, a few packages of dried fruit and he thought there might even be a few pieces of flatbread. He had no idea what had become of his crossbow. All he had was the machete hanging from his belt and a pair of long-bladed knives along with about twenty feet of coiled line and a pouch of zip ties.

  Stumbling once, Chad did his best to turn his body and shield Ronni from any impact. Despite his best efforts, she let out a small moan. Squeezing his eyes against the pain, Chad rose to his feet and did his best to ignore the throbbing that was building in intensity emanating from his injured right calf.

  As he staggered deeper into the woods, he began to notice that he was growing dizzy. He felt the icy tendrils of fear start to creep up his spine. He knew that he was not moving fast enough to put a substantial distance between himself and the zombies he could hear that were on his trail.

  His eyes began to scan his surroundings. He needed to find someplace to either shake the zombies form his trail…or make a stand. He was aware that his pace was slowing; mostly due to his continued stumbling and staggering.

  At last he came to a rocky outcrop. Moving around it, he guessed it to be at least fifteen feet high. If he could get up on top of it, he could set Ronni down and hopefully kill all of the zombies that were in pursuit.