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

by Flint Maxwell

  It lets go of me, snarling, as if it feels the pain.

  The other remaining zombie sees this as an opportunity to lunge. I dodge it. Skin flaps on its face in tune with its movement.

  “Jack!”

  It’s Abby. I run to the door. Through the bars, I see her standing with Lilly. Both are covered in blood. Neither of them hold weapons.

  “Come on!” Lilly echoes.

  Together, all three of us try lifting the gate. It doesn’t budge.

  “Jack, behind you!” Lilly shouts.

  She is so pretty, so beautiful. And so is Abby. Looking at them, I realize just how much I love them, and how much I don’t want to go.

  “I killed him,” I say. “The Overlord is dead.”

  “Jack,” Abby says. She’s crying, tears overflowing in her eyes. “Please.”

  I shake my head. I know when I’ve been beaten. I’ve been beaten all my life. There’s an art form to it—to losing—and I can lose gracefully. That’s the least I can do.

  “Go,” I say as another cold hand grabs my leg. “Get out of here. Live long and happy lives. Both of you. I’ve come here to do what I had to do.”

  I shake the zombie’s grip off of me. I am a drowning man. I can’t help myself. I am submerged and I know it, yet I still gasp for air, knowing water will only flood my lungs and kill me.

  “Jack, please,” Abby begs.

  I meet her eyes.

  Teeth sink into my calf. The pain is enormous, but I keep my composure. Another set of hands grabs my shoulders, pulls me back. The undertow has ahold. I will drown soon.

  Right now, though, I’m flying high on success, on love.

  “Go!” I shout.

  Lilly has to tear Abby from the gate. She’s screaming. She’s crying. I’ve never seen her like this, and it breaks my heart.

  “Go, Abby. Please!”

  More teeth bite into my flesh, this time where my shoulder meets my neck. The feeling is like letting your hand linger on dry ice. Burning cold.

  “Abby, I love you. And Lilly, I love you. Thank you both. Thank you so much.”

  “Jack…” Abby moans.

  Somewhere in the distance, an alarm wails. The body of the snake is dying.

  And I have gotten my revenge.

  “Go!” I yell again before I am pulled under. “Go!”

  These are my final words on this earth. Abby and Lilly are the last people I see.

  And then they go.

  Epilogue

  I awake in brightness. A room, maybe, but there are no walls that I can see, just endless white.

  A group of people stand in front of me, their features backlit by the blinding but welcoming light.

  I step forward. It seems like I’m stepping on nothing at all. I look down. I am not wearing the clothes I was wearing in the Overlord’s tower. I am in dark jeans and a t-shirt. I run my hand over my face. It’s smooth. No beard, not even stubble. My fingers ruffle through my hair. It’s soft, shorter than it was.

  I remember pain. I remember sorrow.

  But why?

  The thoughts are fleeting. Fading away.

  What happened? Where am I?

  One of the figures steps forward so I can see them and make out their features. It is a woman. She has long, blonde hair that I know smells of cherries. She is smiling.

  It’s Darlene. My wife. The mother of my child.

  I smile so wide that my face begins to ache. It’s a good ache.

  “Took you long enough,” Darlene says. She wears a light green dress made of some soft material. The dress clings to her body, accentuating her curves, her shape. She is radiant, she is beautiful. I feel as if I am falling in love all over again.

  There is a tingling in my leg, near my calf; an ache in my shoulder, right by the base of my neck. Almost like…pain. I do remember pain, but this feeling, too, is fleeting.

  My heart swells with love, the purest love I have ever known, and these phantom feelings of anguish soon fade away to nothing.

  “Darlene,” I say.

  Tears drip down my cheeks. I feel warm. It seems I have not seen her in a long time, but it also seems like she has never left.

  She comes forward, smiling. Her arms wrap around me. I hold her tight, breathe her in, the sweet smell of cherries. We kiss long and deep. Then we part.

  “Where am I? Where have I been?” I ask.

  Darlene’s smile falters. “Jack…you’re dead.”

  I look down at my hands. They are still there, still whole. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

  “Jack, this is after.”

  I close my eyes, grasping for the memory in my mind, the memory of how I died. I can’t find it, all I have are memories of happiness, of joy. Mine and Darlene’s first date. Our first kiss. Getting married. A beach. My dog, Cupcake. My son, Junior. Family and friends and laughter.

  Happiness.

  “After,” I repeat, letting the word linger.

  She nods. Takes my hand. “There are people who want to see you.”

  I look up at the figures obscured by the light. She pulls me gently, and I don’t resist. I can never resist anything when it comes to Darlene. As we get closer, their features come into view.

  The first figure that steps forward is shorter than the rest. He looks like Darlene, he has her eyes.

  “Dad,” he says in a kid’s voice subconsciously lowered to sound like a man’s.

  “Junior?” I bend down and hug him tight. Kiss him on top of the head. “I love you.”

  He smiles. I expect him to push me away and tell me I’m embarrassing him, but he doesn’t. He says, “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Another figure steps forward. Norm. He waves with all five fingers on his hand—I don’t know why this is significant. I can’t remember, and I don’t think I want to.

  “Missed you, little bro,” he says, putting me in a headlock and rubbing my hair roughly with his knuckles.

  “Quit it, asshole,” I say jokingly. He lets me go, and I give him a soft punch to the ribs.

  There’s Herb, the original Herb. He is big as always. His soft eyes find mine and he asks, “Do you hear the music, Jacky?”

  And I do. A soft melody plays in the distance, sweet, fulfilling. Herb begins swaying with the rhythm.

  A dog barks and pads along toward me like he’s floating. He’s young, but not quite a puppy. Ink black, red collar around his neck. His tail wags a mile a minute.

  “Cupcake!” I say. “Hey, boy!”

  He jumps up and leans on my front, nails digging in but not hurting. I kiss him right between the eyes.

  There’s Kevin, muscles rippling, hair gelled. There’s Tim, who comes up next to Norm and kisses him on the cheek. There’s Mike and Mother in her wheelchair and Roland and Nacho and Mandy and all of my friends and everyone I have ever considered family.

  “Welcome home, Jack,” Darlene says. “We’ve missed you.”

  I’ve missed them, too. I think they know that.

  But, suddenly, the blissfulness that has come over me threatens to leave.

  “Wait,” I say, looking at the smiling, tranquil faces of the others. “Where’s Abby? Where’s Lilly?”

  Darlene places her hand on the small of my back. “It’s not their time yet, Jack.”

  “Will they—are they okay?”

  “They’re fine,” she answers.

  Norm says, “You know Abby. She’s a tough son of a bitch.”

  Darlene rolls her eyes at my brother, a gesture that just feels…right. “They will both have long and happy lives,” she says. “They’ll be safe. And when it’s their time, we’ll greet them like we’ve greeted you.” She musses my hair. I put my arm around her waist.

  “Okay,” I say. “Good.”

  Cupcake barks, and my son breaks away from us. He holds a bright yellow tennis ball in his hand and he launches it, the ball bouncing far into the whiteness. Cupcake takes off, his tail wagging so vigorously, I think he may fly away. He reaches the ball
and, after batting it around with his paws a few times, eventually brings it back. Junior throws it again. Rinse, repeat. I watch them do this a dozen times over while holding my wife, the love of my life, close.

  As I stand there, I realize that I still remember pain and fear and evil, but just barely. I know those emotions don’t matter anymore.

  Because I am at peace. I am happy.

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  Thank you so much for reading. You’re awesome! If you have some time, I’d be so grateful if you left a review on Amazon or Goodreads (or both). Reviews help awesome readers like yourself find entertaining stories.

  Thanks again,

  F. M.

  About the Author

  Flint Maxwell was born and raised in Northeast Ohio and still lives there today with his beautiful wife and their five furry best friends. He primarily writes horror fiction, but has been known to dabble in all types of genres.

  Get in touch with Flint on Facebook.