The Dead Collection Box Set #2: Jack Zombie Books 5-8

by Flint Maxwell

  I look to the direction of the voice. Sure enough, it is Paul, and his nose is bleeding, red running around his mouth. He holds Lilly by the hair. I’m surprised because her hair isn’t that long. He must have a piece of her scalp, too. There’s a shallow cut below her right eye that’s dribbling blood. Paul holds his own gun in my direction.

  Fear tries to freeze me. Not because there is a gun currently pointed at my head, but because Lilly is in danger. Not because I care about her or Bilbo, but only because I don’t want any more innocent blood on my conscience.

  I’m not scared of the gun, either. I’ve been in this situation many times before. All I have to do is draw my own revolver and pull the trigger. Odds are that I’m a lot faster than this man on the draw. I’d bet my life on it. Will have to.

  But I can’t give what I’m going to do away, so I raise my hands and slowly rise off of the unconscious Duane.

  “Stay there,” Paul says.

  My heart races. The smell of the kill is heavy in the air, like the smell and tang of electricity after a summer thunderstorm.

  I’m already picturing how this is going to go down in my mind. I’m going to draw and fire in one smooth motion. Paul is going to die before he even knows what hit him. Then I’m going to kill Duane. But I won’t shoot him. Better to not waste the ammo. No, I’ll cut him up with the sword. Slice and fucking dice.

  Lilly grunts. Something crunches. Paul lets out a high-pitched squeal.

  Then he screams.

  I’m too stunned to really comprehend what is going on. All I see is Lilly moving away from his grip and him falling over like a tree in a tornado. He drops his gun and holds his crotch.

  Holy shit.

  Lilly is on the gun, picks it up, and clobbers Paul’s head with the butt of it. Blood spurts from the wound. His screaming ends, and for a long moment I think Lilly has swung hard enough to kill him. But as I examine his body, I notice his chest rises and falls raggedly.

  Damn. Would’ve been better if she did kill him.

  “What did you think I was going to do, sit around and wait for you to save me?” Lilly asks, walking through the stretch of forest to the road. “I ain’t that kinda gal, Jack Jupiter. Not a damsel in distress. I can handle myself. Plus a gunshot would’ve given us away. I’d be fucking surprised if the screaming didn’t.”

  I nod. About handling herself…I believe her. After that gruesome display, I’ll never doubt her again.

  She brushes past me with a slight smile on her face. Blood trickles down the swell of her right cheek. She spins something on her fingers. It catches the sunlight, glints like a disco ball. I turn away from it, but the jingling tells me that it’s the keys to the U-Haul. I didn’t even see her take them off of Paul.

  “Let’s find out what these dummies were hauling up to Bandit’s farm,” she says.

  “You go ahead,” I say, stepping over Duane. “After you tie that one up.” I point to Paul. From my cloak, I pull out two lengths of rope, and tie Duane’s hands to his feet. Lilly sighs with an expression that says Do I really have to do that? But she takes the rope reluctantly and does the job.

  We’ll need at least one of them.

  So now I stand over Duane and raise my sword. He’s lucky to die by my sword. Lucky to not have to be torn apart by zombies or tortured by madmen like the one-eyed man or someone with the name Bandit.

  “What are you doing?” Lilly asks, interrupting me.

  “My job,” I say.

  “Leave him. For now. Could be useful,” she says.

  She’s right. Damn. I lower the weapon and begin to tie him up. Then I drag him over to Paul and into the cover of the forest.

  Lilly is back on the road, jimmying the key in the modified lock on the back of the U-Haul. I step into the forest towards Bilbo. The horse is spooked, but seems glad to see a familiar face, one that has no intention of eating him. His twitching slows and his eyes return to their normal sizes. I stroke his mane. “Sorry you had to be bait. Didn’t mean for that to happen.” I untie him and lead him out of the copse of trees.

  As I do this, Lilly says, “Holy shit. Jack, you’re not going to believe this.”

  My stomach drops. I’m trying to go through all the things that could possibly be in the back of the truck. Zombies? Corpses? Dead puppies? These guys seem like the type of people who might catch and kill puppies. I shake my head. No, that’s ridiculous. What would Bandit want with dead puppies anyway? I’m just spooked, a little shaken from the near firefight. If one of us had shot off our weapon, every soldier on the farm would’ve known something was up. They’d be preparing for an ambush as we speak.

  I round the corner of the truck and peer into the open space. What I see is like a gift from above. My jaw drops open. Lilly smacks me on the back.

  Holy shit is right.

  Fifteen

  “Looks like they’re planning to go to war,” I say.

  “This is the norm,” Lilly answers.

  On each side of the truck, there are racks and racks of guns—mostly assault rifles and shotguns, each one has either a tactical light or a ACOG scope attached to it. Heavy duty. In between the racks of guns are crates. A crowbar rests on top of one. I take it and pry it open. Inside the topmost crate is a bunch of straw. Inside the straw are grenades, about twenty of them. It makes me wonder what’s in the rest of the crates. More grenades? A fucking nuke?

  Lilly is tugging on my sleeve and this snaps me out of my surprise.

  “Let’s go,” she says.

  “Go?” I ask.

  “We got what we wanted and more,” she says, looking at me like I’m stupid. “A working car and an armory. We know where we’re going, too.”

  I don’t say anything for a long moment. I hadn’t even realized this because I’ve been too distracted by our unconscious and tied up friends Paul and Duane. But Lilly is right.

  “We move a few of these crates and Bilbo can fit in the back,” Lilly says. “Not ideal but better than leaving him.”

  I still haven’t said anything. I’m just kind of standing there with my thumb up my ass. Then Lilly is pushing me toward the front seat. “I’ll drive,” she says.

  “What about them?” I ask, cocking a thumb toward the two tied up delivery drivers.

  “Two choices and you know what they are,” she says. “And I’m not killing them because they have a taste for horse meat. I got Paul there good enough. Felt his left nut shatter, I think.”

  My face screws up at her gruesome description. “Leave them,” I agree. Their fate will probably be worse than the sweet relief of us killing them. I go back around the back and start moving the crates. They’re heavy and the cords in my neck stand out as I lift them. I’m happy to say I am still able to move them, though, just not as easily as I could’ve a decade ago. Father Time gets to all of us eventually. And sadly.

  Lilly comes back from the forest, leading Bilbo by the reins. He goes easily enough into the back and fits almost perfectly, but if the ride gets rough, he might have a tough time. I’ll make sure to go easy on the turns.

  “I’ll drive,” I say to Lilly. “You get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

  She nods and though she won’t say it, I can tell she’s grateful.

  I get into the driver’s seat and start the truck. The engine hums beautifully, music to my ears. There’s even a cassette tape in the middle console. It’s Metallica’s Master of Puppets. Literal music to my ears. I pop it in and keep the volume low.

  For now.

  Instead of backing up, I make a U-turn with the U-haul. Can’t risk the beeping noise being heard at the farm despite it being about a half-mile up the road.

  Something keeps nagging at my mind. I’m not the same man I used to be, but that man isn’t completely gone yet, and that scares me.

  He’s in there somewhere, and right now he’s screaming, telling me not to leave in the opposite direction of the farm, while the new Jack Jupiter, the tired, nihilistic Jack Jupiter
who has lost everything is wondering what the fuck I’m doing. I can kick Lilly out, leave her with Bilbo. She’ll be all right on her own. I’ve seen she can handle herself. I don’t need the baggage weighing me down because this road ahead of me is not going to be easy; and if it ends in my death, I will be completely all right with that. That doesn’t mean Lilly and Bilbo have to die because of me, though. It may come off as rude, she’ll probably call me an asshole and say she hates my guts, but it’s better than her being dead because of my recklessness.

  I stop the truck, the brakes squeak.

  “What are you doing?” Lilly asks.

  I shake my head and hit the steering wheel with my open hand. “Damn it,” I say because a different Jack Jupiter brings up the image of the poor people who were dragging the tractor, being chased by a group of zombies. No human being deserves such a fate.

  But which Jack is going to win out?

  Suddenly, a light pops on in my head. A compromise comes to me. I can save the people and get the other car. That way Lilly and I can safely part ways. Traveling by car is much safer than by horse. But will she go for that?

  I guess I’ll have to find out.

  “What?” Lilly’s eyes are as big as two moons. “Go, man!” she says.

  “I can’t.” I cut the wheel again and turn toward the direction of the farm.

  “Jack,” Lilly says. “We don’t have to go there.”

  I think of Darlene, of Junior, of Norm, of Abby. The man I was when they were with me, when our family was strong and together, would not let such injustices go unpunished.

  “Yes, we do,” I say. “What they’re doing to those people isn’t right. You saw what I saw. Imagine what they’re doing to the others that we couldn’t see.”

  “You’re going to risk everything for some unknown people?” Lilly asks, her face a mask of utter disbelief.

  Yes, I think, and then we’ll each have our own working vehicles and we can go our separate ways. I know we have common interests, but I can’t stomach more innocent blood on my hands. What would Darlene think if she knew I was going to let those people suffer, if she knew I planned on ditching Lilly and Bilbo in the middle of District country? She’d tell me I’m a dumbass and probably slap me, which is less than I deserve.

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” I say.

  Lilly shakes her head—she’s quite good at that. I’m expecting her to argue with me, to tell me I’m absolutely crazy. It’s not my fault. I know if I let whatever’s going on at that farm continue, I’ll never get the images of a group of malnourished and miserable human beings running from a group of zombies out of my head. She doesn’t argue, but sighs tiredly instead. “All right,” she says. “It’s your call. I trust your judgment.”

  And that’s like a slap in the face. No one should trust my judgment. I don’t even trust it, but I’m thinking of Darlene and Junior and all those that suffered at Haven and I just can’t move on in good conscious.

  Lilly pulls her gun out of her waistband, unloads the clip to check how many rounds she has left. “Well, what’s the plan?”

  A smile appears on my face. Is it a smile to cover up the fear that has taken up residence inside of me? Maybe. Possibly. Probably.

  I can’t say for sure. All I know is that this might be one of the stupidest decisions I’ve made in a long time. There’s a large possibility of death or pain. But I don’t care.

  I have to look at the bright side. Even if I fail, at least I’ll get to take down a few of those District bastards in the process. That’s worth something, isn’t it?

  Sixteen

  “The plan,” I say, “is pretty simple. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

  Lilly arches an eyebrow.

  “I know.” I’m nodding. “A bit cryptic. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Apparently my mind is made up. No going back now because I already have a plan. Man, what the fuck is happening to me?

  Lilly leans forward to listen more intently. This makes me nervous, like I’m a college professor giving a lecture to a bunch of eager students.

  I get out of the truck and open the back again. There’s Bilbo. He looks glad to see me, glad to be free of the darkness. I lead him out. “Yeah, buddy, you’re free for now.” He whinnies in reply. Can’t let myself get attached. I think of Cupcake, think of how much it hurt me to hold him while he withered away to nothing but skin and bones and matted fur. Can’t experience that again.

  I go through the weapons, taking one of the assault rifles off the rack. It has a scope on it. I aim down the road. It doesn’t zoom much, but it’ll be adequate enough. Lilly is out now. She watches me.

  “Here,” I say, handing it to Lilly. She tests the sight.

  “Nice,” she says.

  “I’ll drive the truck up to the farm under the pretense of delivery—”

  “Bad idea,” Lilly says.

  I shrug. Yeah, it is, but what else do we have—

  Unless…

  We both look over to the clearing in the trees where Duane and Paul are tied, still unconscious.

  “Take one of them,” Lilly says.

  “You read my mind,” I say.

  “Great minds think alike, right?” She nudges me with her elbow.

  I nod, businesslike. No need to get jokey with her. Not when I intend to part ways once we get the car.

  “If they’re expecting them, they’ll be a better chance that they aren’t suspicious of an unknown tagging along,” Lilly says. She looks through the ACOG again. “So where does that leave me?”

  “You ever shot long distance?”

  “Not really,” she answers. Uncertainty passes over her features, but it’s so minor that I hardly notice because she’s almost instantly back to her cocky self. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”

  “But can you do it from horseback?”

  “I can do anything, Jack,” she says. “I’ve survived in this wasteland, haven’t I?”

  “Yeah, so have they,” I say, nodding my head in the farm’s direction. “That’s why we can’t underestimate them.”

  “Don’t worry, Jack,” she says. “We got this.”

  Her confidence surprises me still. I’ve never met someone so fearless, which is stupid. Can’t be fearless in this world.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say.

  Lilly laughs. “You put this weapon in my hand, Jack. There’s no getting rid of me now.” She walks toward the trees, where Paul and Duane are. “Looks like our friends are coming back to reality,” she says.

  I follow her, bringing Bilbo with me. The wind blows and my skin prickles.

  I approach Paul and Duane. Paul is the most alert, blinking almost comically while Duane stirs with his eyes closed, shaking his head back and forth. The wound in his arm isn’t deep. Hardly any blood trickles out of it, but if he wants to keep living, he’ll have to make sure it doesn’t get infected. In a world where infection is rampant, that might be hard.

  I bend down and look Paul straight in the eyes. He flinches at my gaze, and that satisfies me.

  “Hey there, pal,” I say.

  He turns away from my gaze now, shocked over his current predicament.

  “You District?” I ask, and the answer lies in the man’s eyes. He looks at me with burning intensity, then, worried that he’s given it away, he looks elsewhere.

  “Nah, I ain’t District. Neither is my buddy here. So let us go. He’s bleeding pretty bad and my nuts have swollen up so big I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down for a solid month.”

  “That’s if you make it another month, dirtbag,” Lilly says, her upper lip curling and baring teeth.

  I put a hand on her arm and give her a look that says Calm down. She nods halfheartedly.

  “If you’re not District, Paul, what the heck are you doing driving a U-Haul full of assault rifles and grenades up to a District farm?” I ask.

  He still won’t look at me. He keeps looking at Duane, at the bit of
blood dribbling out of the small slit in his shoulder. Now that I’m closer, I see I barely broke skin. The bastard hasn’t lost nearly as much blood as he deserves.

  “I—we wasn’t. We was just on our way east,” Paul says.

  Duane stirs enough to open his eyes. He looks drugged and dazed. I must’ve really thrown him for a loop. Didn’t even know I could punch that hard. I’ll admit, that makes me feel kind of good. Manly.

  “What the fuck?” Duane says, slurring, mouth thick with saliva and blood.

  “Compromised,” Paul says, and I’m surprised he knows such a big word. “Got jumped.”

  “Ah, my fucking shoulder.” Duane turns his head to look at the cause of his pain and his eyes balloon three times their size. Any lethargy is blown away by this sight. “Did you stab me? What the fuck? Why do you have a sword like that? You the fucking Apocalypse Knight?”

  I chuckle. I like the sound of that one.

  “No,” I say. “I’m just a regular guy who doesn’t like the assholes who think of themselves as people in the District.”

  Duane spits at me. He doesn’t have enough energy for the bloody loogie to hit my feet—it lands about half a foot away from my boot—but nonetheless, it surprises me. “Well, we don’t like fucking assholes with swords.”

  “That how you’re gonna talk to the people who bested you, who stabbed you?” Lilly says. I put my hand up again. She ignores it, narrows her eyes and steps closer to Duane and Paul. “Show us some respect.”

  Duane surprises me once more. He spits again, this time getting more power under it. It thwaps against Lilly’s thigh. She looks down disbelievingly, narrowed eyes unsure of what they’ve seen, and then she lunges at him with her fist raised.

  I grab her around the waist to hold her back. She bucks and kicks and yells profanities I’ve never even heard, things I think she’s made up but still sound just as dirty and insulting as the big C-word.

  Duane has a bloody smile on his face, but Paul is uneasy. He doesn’t like where this is going; he’s scared. I don’t blame him—Lilly is scary right now.