by T. W. Brown
“Them two boys might be trouble for you,” Barry whispered low enough so nobody else could hear. “Their fight separated ‘em from the rest of us when all them zombies showed up. If they got bit and turned…”
“They might come back here,” I finished his sentence.
“And bring a bunch of trouble with ‘em.”
Damn.
Barry turned and began walking towards the trees. His steps were shaky and he staggered like a wino. I hurried to his side and threw his arm over my shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“The woods,” Barry answered. “Unless you wanna jam somethin’ through my head in front of Randi.”
“Barry!” I heard the woman wailing behind us. He stopped and I helped him turn back to face the crowd of anguished onlookers. “We’ve said our farewells, now go inside and let me tend to my business. I’ll see you in Heaven, Randi.”
We turned back and headed into the woods. I could still hear the crying and protests from Barry’s wife. I let Barry lead, and we walked for a good ten minutes before he pointed to a fallen tree. I eased him down to the ground and he leaned back against it with a sigh that turned into painful sounding coughs.
“Don’t wait till my eyes open back up,” Barry finally managed after wiping dark blood from his mouth.
“What?”
“I said don’t wait for my eyes to open back up before you do it. I don’t want to spend one second as one of those soulless abominations.” Barry looked up at me with those hideous eyes.
“Alright,” I said with a nod.
“Promise me.”
“Of course,”
“No, Steve,” Barry pounded a weak fist on the pine-needle strewn ground. “I want a promise. You say it.”
“Okay,” I brought my hands up, signaling for him to calm down, “I promise.”
“Shoulda known better than to volunteer to go with those two idiots,” Barry wheezed. “Thought I could help keep the peace. Thought it was time somebody other than you put his ass on the line.”
“What in the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m talking about how you seem to think you have to do it all. How you think you have to make every run, pick every work crew,” Barry explained. “You have it in your head that you need to run this show, and every time things go wrong…you take it on your shoulders like it was your own shortcomings made it happen. Thing is, it’s like sports. The coach can call the plays, but the team has to execute them. It ain’t the coach striking out, missing free-throws, or dropping passes.”
“Maybe not, but if he has a shitty game plan, his team will get its ass kicked,” I replied.
“Ain’t no planning for this.” Barry shook his head.
“Maybe not, but when I screw up, I get people killed,” I protested. “Seems like I’m doing that a lot lately.”
“Will you cut it with the self-pity,” Barry snapped. “You stepped up to be the leader. You’ll make mistakes. Don’t make ‘em twice in a row. That’s the best you can hope for these days. You’re the leader, be a man and accept that when you screw up, there will be casualties. However, without a leader, the chances of survival of this group goes down fast.” He coughed and was silent for a moment.
“I may not’ve said it,” he finally spoke again, his voice noticeably weaker, “but I don’t think Randi and I would be alive today without you. Same goes for the rest of ‘em. Well…ex-cept for Teresa. I do believe that young lady will out-survive cockroaches out of pure stubbornness.” He coughed in the middle of chuckling and I could see blood spraying from his lips with the spittle.
“I need you to be the man I believe you to be,” Barry continued after a few slow tears rolled down his cheeks that seemed to be graying before my eyes. “I need to know my Randi will be okay. I need you to promise—” He began to choke, eyes widening. I leaned down, but he brought his hands up, warding me off.
“Barry,” I said, trying not to cry. “I can’t—”
“Promise to watch my…” his eyes went wide for a second, then, he went slack. His whole body slumped down as a final exhale escaped his lips.
“Dammit!” I cursed, drawing my blade. Stepping forward, I plunged the blade into his temple. His hand twitched, but I think it was just one of those post-death contractions.
Liar.
I sat down, my back against a tree, facing Barry Jenkins. The handle of my knife jutted obscenely from his head. Another promise. How many had I given since all this began? I’d lost track.
I just needed to rest for a bit. I needed to clear my head. Only, there wasn’t time. With Lee and Jason out there in who knows what sort of condition, the group was in danger. And it was my fault. Dr. Zahn had protested, told me it was a bad idea. I hadn’t listened. Maybe secretly I hoped that Jason would kill Lee. Perhaps I wanted Lee to go out there and not make it back. I lacked the guts to do anything, so I’d put him in a situation where it could happen while I kept my hands clean. Only, this time, it’d cost more than I bargained for. I would have to face Randi Jenkins every day for the rest of my life. I—
Something rustled in the woods off to my left. I scrambled forward and retrieved my knife. There it was again. Closer. I watched a tall cluster of ferns shake, then, out stepped Lee Jones.
He was a mess.
His dead eyes locked onto me and he began to stumble my way, his one remaining arm reaching out, fingers seeming to point accusatorily at me. Two more stepped out on Lee’s heels. Barry’s fears had been justified; Lee Jones was one of the walking dead and he’d led his brethren to us. Three more came through the ferns. I stood, and saw my worst nightmare coming true.
They were coming, and there were lots of them. I clapped my hands together after wiping the blade of my knife clean on my pants leg. Heads turned my direction. Lots and lots of them.
“Come to papi you fucks!” I snarled and began moving in a slow arc away from the direction of the campground.
Like rats to the Pied Piper, they followed. My responsibility to keep the others safe felt like a ten-ton weight on each shoulder. I simply could not make any more promises. However, I would do my best one more time to keep the others safe.
Through the woods, I stomped. Making as much noise as possible. Occasionally I would taunt my undead parade of stinking, moaning zombies. There was no way I was going to fail all those who counted on me. Every so often I climbed up on a stump or fallen tree. Yes, I thought, follow your leader. It looked like the herd had taken the bait. Several hours later, as the sun began to set, they continued to follow.
It’s been three days. I thought I could shake ‘em when I got to town. Unfortunately, walking for over forty-eight hours—almost non-stop—must’ve messed with my perception a bit too much. I made it into town and was certain I’d given that mob the slip. Maybe I did and maybe Lee knew right where I was heading.
I can hear them pounding on the walls and doors. I can hear them in the hallway. I did manage to make it into the same storage room where Ian and Billy camped. I’m pretty sure the last of my luck has been used up…there was an unopened box in one corner. A case of bottled water. No food, but I got water.
I’ve kept my promises for as long as I can. I’ve tried to take care of everybody for as long as I can. Hearing them outside my door is almost therapeutic. If they’re out there…that means they didn’t swarm the camp. Now it is simply a question of what lasts longer: the water, the door, or my sanity.
The book that started it all!
Introducing our new cover of the first book in the series
Dead: The Ugly Beginning
DEAD: Fortunes and Failures –
The third book in the Dead
series will be available December 15th 2011
In Zomblog you find Samuel Todd
...a regular guy...
...Failed husband...
...Loving father...
...Dutiful worker...
...Aspiring rock star.
He had no id
ea if anyone would care, or take the time, to read his daily blog entries about his late night observations. But what started as an open monologue of his day-to-day life became a running journal of the first-hand account detailing the rising of the dead and the downfall and degradation of mankind...
Zomblog II continues with Meredith Gainey
She is a survivor…and determined to retain that status as the zombie apocalypse wipes out most of humanity. Unable to accept an existence behind walls and fences, she finds herself in constant danger…and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Look for Zomblog: The Final Chapter
coming August 2011
THE DEAD WALK!
Slip into the skin of common men and women and experience the horror through their eyes. Follow the Zombie Apocalypse from its initial stages to the brink of the abyss, and over…into the pits of an unthinkable Hell on Earth. Tune into your local radio stations for the latest updates or stay here and follow the story as it unfolds on…
Eye Witness: Zombie
The legions of the undead continue to grow. First Time Dead proudly presents a host of brand new names to the genre pantheon.
Our matched set anthologies
Available Mother’s Day and Father’s Day 2011
Coming May 2011
A Man of Letters by Eric Pollarine
A Soldiers Lament by Patrick D’Orazio
Blackout by Amber Whitley
Childish Things by William Wood
Escape from Hope by Dane Grannon
Feral by Rebecca Lloyd
One Nation Undead by Mike Harrison
Shear Terror by Chantal Boudreau
That Ghoul Eva by Marianna Mann
…and more!
And something from the May side of
May December Publications
Abandoned and scared, but less alone than he could have ever imagined, Sam awakens to the screams of the other children on the island of Fervor, and the absence of all adults. To make matters worse, despite hearing this chaos in his head, he finds himself deaf to the normal sou-nds around him. His only answers are now being provided by a strangely charismatic boy na-med Francis who is about to lead Sam to a gathering that will alter his life. Why have things chang-ed so drastically on the island, who is responsible for these changes, and what does this mean to the remaining inhabitants of Fervor?
Dakota Riley is a member of the Seattle Drug Task Force. During an investigation into an international drug smuggling ring, he loses his best friend and partner. To add insult to injury, he is assigned an African-American rook-ie, Marc Bradley. Seeking revenge rather than justice, Dakota ditches the rookie...and almost gets himself killed. After leaving the hospital for a 'forced' vacation, Dakota and Marc head to Marc's hometown of Charleston, South Carolina. A day out on a fishing boat goes wrong when a mysterious storm arrives. The boat is destroyed, and the two men wash ashore...in 1861, just prior to the start of the American Civil War.
The growing voice in horror and speculative fiction.
Find us at www.maydecemberpublications.com
Or
Email us at [email protected]
TW Brown is the author of the Zomblog series and the Dead series. He is deeply immersed in the multiple sequels of each franchise while trying to balance the duties of husband, father, friend, and band member as well as keeping busy reading and editing the numerous submissions for a variety of upcoming anthologies and full-length titles for May December Publications. He is a member of Horror Writers Association and has had short stories published by Pill Hill Press and Living Dead Press.
You can contact him at [email protected]
or visit his website at
www.maydecemberpublications.com.
You can follow him on twitter @maydecpub and on facebook under Todd Brown and also under May December Publications.