by Steve Kuhn
WE ARE THE INFECTED
Dext of the Dead – Book Two
By
Steve Kuhn
“Fans of The Walking Dead are going to love this series. The characters are realistic and witty, the dialogue is great and the writing is quickly paced. The series should do well. Recommended.”
~ Weston Kincade, author of A Life of Death
- BOOKS of the DEAD -
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This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, dialog, and situations in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of reprinted excerpts for the purpose of reviews.
WE ARE THE INFECTED
BOOKS of the DEAD
Copyright 2014 by Steve Kuhn
Edited by Wake Editing
Cover Design by Small Dog Design
For more information, contact: [email protected]
Visit us at: Booksofthedeadpress.com
Read All 5 Books In Steve Kuhn’s Amazing
Apocalyptic Series Dext Of The Dead:
WE ARE THE PLAGUE
WE ARE THE INFECTED
WE ARE THE ENTOMBED
WE ARE THE EXTINCTION
WE ARE THE END
Entry 51
Kylee hopped on 310, and we followed her into Pataskala, a modest burg just outside Columbus. There were a lot more geeks on the way in than I would have hoped to see, but it seems like they realize they can’t catch the vehicles. Hell, they barely pop their heads up anymore as we roll through. I guess deadheads aren’t into fast food these days, hehe.
We’re getting pretty good at bailing out and making a perimeter, weapons drawn. With Wyatt and Kylee on the rifles, we can get a solid gauge of the surrounding area as well. I really miss Junior’s ability to scout, though. That son of a bitch would give us an accurate count, direction of approach, and what color lip gloss a dead bitch was wearing when she died.
The town was as eerie as it gets. I was half expecting some tumbleweed to come blowing across the road with all the storefronts boarded up and shit… It was like they were preparing for a tornado, not the end of the world.
This was also the first time that I’d come across skeletal remains. Intermittently strewn along the street were bodies that had been devoured so violently and swiftly that there wasn’t even enough left for them to reanimate. I’ve heard horror stories of people being pinned down by so many of the dead at one time that even their heads are torn apart and the brains eaten, but I’ve never actually seen it. Once the packs move on, the birds and feral animals pick the rest of the corpse clean.
This blood was fresh, though—well, fresh-ish. It was all jellied up and coagulated, but it wasn’t dried into the ground yet. It stunk. It had that irony funk of rot that permeated the air. Kylee pointed to her eyes, quietly telling everyone to stay alert.
Tom came limping out of the truck, and his feet hit the ground heavily. He was looking worse, and I could see the stress it was putting on Bizzy. She stayed by his side as we stalked down the street looking for anything useful.
Trey pointed up ahead about two blocks and whispered, “There.”
We looked in that direction and could easily make out the ‘Rx’ sign of a pharmacy of some sort. I eyed up the local bar thoughtfully and made myself a promise that, if time permitted, I was making a pit stop.
Trey, Rebecca, and Wyatt made off for the pharmacy, and I grouped up with Cutty and Tom on the other side of the road, heading down the long stretch through the center of town. Tom gestured to Bizzy to stay behind with Kylee at the vehicles, and she didn’t fight him on it.
Kylee, however, whispered harshly to Tom, “Hey, you shouldn’t be walking on it. Let them handle it.”
He replied with a smug look and continued to follow Cutty and me like he had something to prove.
Trey, Wyatt, and Rebecca disappeared into the pharmacy as we headed up the street, passing this shop and that. Most of them were tacky knick-knack shops or antique stores and shit, which only furthered the point that every one of those collectibles that someone purchased along the way is and was worthless in the grand scheme of things. The three of us periodically looked back to the vehicles as we headed into the sun. It was setting slightly and washed out the road ahead with its glare.
Cutty spotted a small market and whispered, “I’ma slide up in hur and get us some water an’ stuff if they any ta be had.”
I told him, “A’ight… just leave the baked beans on the shelf.”
He chuckled quietly and moved inside.
Which reminds me… I said “A’ight.” What is it with me? It’s like I inadvertently try to sound slightly less white when I’m talking to Cutty and Trey. I don’t really notice it while I’m doing it, but I must sound fucking retarded to them. It’s like back when I would try and talk to an employee who spoke Spanish primarily. Halfway into the conversation, I’m speaking broken English just like they are… “No. Want overtime? You work today?”
I was distracted for a moment at an old newsstand because it still had papers sitting on it that dated from right around the time of the megaspread. As usual, every one of them was attributing the phenomenon to something different: terrorism, mutations of viruses, the wrath of God… No one had a fucking clue. I heard a shout, and my head snapped up from the papers. Tom didn’t even notice I had stopped, and he was now about fifty yards up ahead of us, limping frantically back in my direction.
My stomach dropped. With the sun at his back, all I could see was a massive silhouette of figures behind him and closing fast. I shouted back to Kylee and the others, “Herd! Move your ass!”
Wyatt, Trey, and Rebecca quickly emerged from the pharmacy with their arms full of stuff like a couple of looters, and they broke for the tractor and the jeep. I turned tail to follow them and ran right into Cutty as he exited the store with arms full of food and water. I bounced off him and fell on my ass. Looking up at him, I said, “We gotta go—now.”
Cutty dropped his stash to help me to my feet and said, “What about Tom?” Then he looked down the road to the others and shouted, “Yo! What about Tom?”
Wyatt yelled over his shoulder as he ran, “Fuck Tom! Let’s go!” I know Bizzy heard that, dammit.
Cutty looked me in the eyes and asked, “What about Tom, Dext?”
I weighed the options quickly. Tom’s injured, and he’s probably going to die anyway—that’s a cold hard fact. He’s slow, arrogant, and in my personal opinion absolutely worthless… more worthless than before he got bit.
I looked at Cutty and said, “Fuck Tom… We gotta go.”
I started quickly gathering whatever I could pick up from Cutty’s score and made off towards the others. Problem is, when I looked over my shoulder for Cutty, he wasn’t there. In fact, he was running up the street towards Tom. Shit!
I reached the others and threw my stuff into the jeep as Wyatt’s crew put all the medicinal stuff into the tractor. I drew my pistol and broke back towards Cutty and Tom as fast as I could go.
Cutty had Tom over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, but he was too slow. The geeks were gaining fast, and Cutty was losing steam. I took a knee and aimed behind them, taking three or four shots, I can’t remember… It was four… I just now counted the rounds in my mag. I actually managed to drop one of the buggers, but it did nothing for the overall situation.
Cutty was within an arm’s reach of them when suddenly there was a huge explosion and fire
at the back of the herd—then another. The dead slowed just for a moment as they shied away from the flames. Cutty gained about six or eight feet and nearly caught up to me. One final blast, and a huge wall of flame spouted behind Cutty and Tom, cutting off the stinks and setting a good number of them ablaze.
They stopped chasing immediately, and it looked as though they had an aversion to fire, something I hadn’t realized previously. As Cutty, Tom, and I reached the vehicles, we saw Rebecca holding liquor bottles from the bar, which she had fashioned into Molotov cocktails. Trey was next to her, whipping up another of his fire bombs. We dumped Tom into the rig with Kylee and Bizzy, and the rest of us hit the jeep.
We didn’t have time to argue, talk, or to pat each other on the back. We just bugged outta there like a bat outta hell.
It was at that moment I noticed that something was wrong. Fuck. Kylee was swerving all over the road in front of us.
Entry 52
I thought she was dead. I really did. The way the truck jackknifed and flipped up on its side, you would have never expected anyone to come out of that alive, much less nearly unscathed whatsoever.
Kylee was trying to regain control of the truck but overcompensated, causing everything to go wrong. All of us in the jeep simultaneously exclaimed, “Oh shit!” as the truck and trailer tipped over going thirty plus and slid another twenty feet before grinding to a halt on the asphalt.
Cutty stopped us behind the trailer, and everyone rushed to the truck. Trey and I climbed atop the cab and drug Kylee up and out, laying her on the roadside while the others went around the other side to see about Bizzy and Tom. Kylee was out cold, so Trey began first aid.
I heard Rebecca scream first, followed by Cutty and Wyatt shouting for her to back away. I left Trey with Kylee and sprinted around to help them out. When I saw what the commotion was about, I threw up right there in the middle of the road.
Through watery eyes, I was able to assess that Tom had turned inside the cab while they were driving, and the cause of the accident was the ensuing chaos inside. But when the truck flipped, it partially ejected Bizzy. She was alive and conscious, but very much in the worse kind of shock. She was also torn completely in half from the waist down.
Tom was kneeling next to her, chewing on hunks of her innards while sifting through the lower half of her body with blood-soaked hands.
Bizzy was trying to speak, but she was bleeding from her mouth and could only manage a wet, choking sound as tears streaked down the sides of her face to her ears. She was dying… slowly and painfully.
I yelled for Trey, saying, “Trey, get over here right now! We have a problem!”
Before he even appeared around the front of the downed truck, Cutty had dispatched Tom with a swift chop that entered at the top of Tom’s head but skewed slightly, popping his eyeball.
Wyatt sat down and cradled Bizzy in his lap, saying, “Shhhh… It’ll be over soon, Biz. Just try and sleep. Just close your eyes and sleep, Biz.” He cleared her hair from her face and smoothed it around her ears before using his sleeve to wipe the blood from her mouth and cheeks.
Bizzy looked up to Wyatt as he cradled her, and they just stared at each other until Bizzy’s breath grew shallow and eventually ceased altogether. Everyone looked on in silence as Wyatt laid her head gently on the ground and backed away to stand.
I noticed Kylee had regained her senses and staggered around to the rest of us. She was covering her mouth and choking back her own emotions. Wyatt was giving zero fucks about Kylee’s state as he lit her up. He pointed his finger at her and seethed, “You did this! You killed Bizzy… And you know what? I’ve thought about what you said back at the warehouse. You were right, ya know! You killed Junior, too. My idea was simple. It had nothing to do with killing the Council and taking over the Haven by force. That was your call. And leaving Tom alive with a bite… that was your idea! Not mine!”
Trey raised his eyebrow at Kylee, having heard Wyatt’s tirade, and quizzically asked no one in particular, “You killed the Council?”
Kylee stammered to answer, clearly overwhelmed, managing to get out, “Wyatt, calm down…”
He was relentless. “Calm down? Look at what you did! Look at her, damn you!”
Kylee did just that and could no longer hold her shit together. She started to bawl, turning her back on everyone and running off to the jeep.
Cutty tried to reason with Wyatt, offering, “C’mon, young blood. Dat’s a lot to put on her.”
I added, “Yeah, Wyatt. Even if you truly thought that, you’re alive because of Kylee in the first place. She saved your ass… along with Hope, and Kate, and Gary—”
Wyatt cut me off, saying, “Yeah… and maybe Kate was right.” He spat on the ground defiantly and stalked off in the opposite direction.
So we stood there for a long moment, Rebecca, Cutty, Trey, and I… staring at the carnage of the scene and still absorbing the things that were said. Trey looked at the three of us and asked again, “You killed the Council?”
Cutty looked him in his eyes and nodded, saying, “Yeah, Trey. We did it when you was gone. Didn’t wan’ you to be part of dat mess, so we waited ’til you left.”
Trey looked around at us and nodded his approval before replying, “Well… what’s done is done. Those two, though—that’s gonna be a problem.”
I told him I’d talk with them both before we got going, and they all seemed satisfied for the time being.
Bizzy gurgled slightly and began moving her head slowly. Her eyes, which had glazed over moments earlier, hazed into a cloudy gray, and her arms lifted a bit as she made a feeble attempt to drag her upper half free of the truck. Her jaws snapped at us before the red metal of the tractor’s fire extinguisher slammed into her head three times, each one progressively splitting skull and bone until she was dispatched.
Rebecca stood over her, panting as she dropped the extinguisher. She said simply, “We’ll need to bury them before we go.”
Trey protested, saying, “I got no issues with burying the girl, but I don’t see no reason to waste the time or the energy on Tom.”
Cutty nodded his agreement.
Rebecca looked at them both in disgust and said, “Bizzy would want to be buried with her father. I’ll do it myself, then.” She walked back to the jeep, leaving the three of us.
Cutty looked over his shoulder at Rebecca as she walked and nodded slightly. “C’mon, y’all. Le’s do this.”
Entry 53
Of all the stuff that Wyatt said to Kylee, only one thing really stood out enough to worry me. He said, “Maybe Kate was right.”
Was she? I can honestly say that I don’t know. It’s true that she didn’t have to experience the road, the Haven, the Council, the train, or the ones we’ve lost along the way. She was safe in that sense. I’ve never been much of a tough guy, but suicide to me has always been a cop-out… a bitch move. Sure, I’ve contemplated going out by my own hand more than once since this thing started to get bad. I’ve just always been too much of a pussy to go through with it. Besides, I can’t have the people I care about the most cleaning up my messes.
See, back in the day, you could hang yourself or down a bunch of pills and go out all quiet and shit, but all that’s changed. You do something like that now, and you’re an instant threat to anyone in the area. Nope, you gotta destroy your own brain-piece, and that means a bullet to the dome or worse. I can’t hack that. I guess I’ll just have to live forever, heh.
I didn’t really know how to approach Wyatt because he was pissed. I guess I could’ve been understanding and soft, but fuck that. This time, Wyatt was out of line… especially with Kylee. I mean, to put Junior’s blood on her hands was pretty fucked up.
So, I walked up to him and asked him sternly, “Mind telling me what that was about back there?”
He wasn’t quite as fired up as he was with Kylee anymore, but he was still at a simmer, so to speak. He answered me, “One by one—that’s how it’s gonna go down, man. We’re
being picked off. I don’t wanna go out like that, Dext, choking on my own blood, crying. I don’t wanna watch your sorry asses standing around and watching me. You know?”
I get that, but realistically, no one would want to go out like that. It’s like everyone hopes to go in their sleep. No one ever expects to be run over by a truck, or to get sick beyond medical help, and definitely no one expects to get eaten by a roaming pack of dead, cannibalistic corpses. So I told him, “Wyatt, I know where you’re coming from, and I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through. I can’t imagine what this must be like for you, but the bottom line is this… You’re not special. You’re not the only one who has lost people. You’re not the only one who has risked their life for someone else. You’re not the only one pissed off and scared and….” I just trailed off. I was out of words.
Wyatt looked up at me and said, “I know. And thank you.”
That threw me off for a second. “Thank me? What the hell for?”
He answered, “For saying you’re sorry. No one’s said that to me this whole time. Thank you.”
I told him, “You wanna thank me? Go apologize for what you said to Kylee.”
He smirked, because he knew he fucked up and he knew he had to make it right. I left him to gather his thoughts.
Kylee was sitting in the passenger seat of the jeep, staring blankly at the crashed truck and sobbing intermittently. I could just tell she was deep in thought—that heavy, pensive thought that’s never good for anyone. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Trey, Cutty, and Rebecca as they dug the roadside graves.
I crouched next to her and sat in silence for a while. She spoke first with, “You know, when you’re about to be deployed they give you shots. They’re for all kinds of stuff… vaccines and such. We never even knew what half of them were. You just do what you’re told. Does everyone really think that the mightiest military on the entire planet would fall apart because of a bunch of slow-moving corpses? Bah! That’s not why the mission failed. I think something was in those shots, Dext. We had guys die, but they didn’t turn after it. We thought the scientists were onto something. When I was bitten, I kept it a secret just to see if I’d make it. I’m still the only person I’ve ever known to survive a bite. Something about that fever just takes people right out. I had to see if Tom could make it, though, to see if I was still alone.”