Undead Series (Book 1): Blight of the Dead

by Breckenridge, Erin E.

  Raven’s eyes narrowed and rage ate away her senses. “Just a woman,” she spoke.

  Her voice had quieted, which Henry knew was more dangerous than yelling. He took a step away from Monique, clearly deciding not to protect her. Raven thought that was a good choice. She took a step forward. Monique let out a high-pitched squeak and backed up.

  “I saw what way he went,” Monique offered, raising her hands in a supplicating gesture. “And,” she added when Raven took another step forward. “And the side of their truck said Valley Army Base.”

  Raven’s anger flared. “That base is gone,” she said. “I saw it on the news before the media coverage was cut off. It was overrun.”

  “Okay, that’s not good,” Henry responded. His voice was neutral, expression cautious. His eyes brightened. “What about the president and his meeting points?” he asked, turning to his sister. “We could go with our original plan.”

  Monique sighed and Henry looked her way, pulled by the sound. She raised her hand and gently touched the knot on Henry’s forehead. It was already turning an ugly purple color.

  Raven wondered for the first time if Henry had slept with this woman. It would explain his sudden loyalty to a virtual stranger.

  “What about helping me?” Monique asked, turning to Henry and pouting.

  There was a whining quality to her voice that put Raven over the edge. She stomped to Monique and grabbed her roughly by her pretty blond hair, forcing the woman to face her.

  “We are going to find Liz first. Then and only then we will help you find your people.” Raven thought that was a very generous offer considering. Her fist wrapped tightly into Monique’s hair. The other woman frowned.

  Monique opened her mouth to respond but Henry touched her hand. She glanced at him and nodded. “Thank you,” she said to Raven.

  Raven released her and turned away. “Come on Rocky,” she said. “Let’s get packed. We’re leaving in half an hour,” she declared and headed to the storage room. She frowned; dried brains and blood making her skin feel stiff. In that moment she didn’t care.

  Monique and Henry spoke together in low voices but Raven couldn’t understand what they said. She didn’t give a fuck as long as they were ready to leave in thirty. Raven was pissed at her brother for bringing this stranger among them, this stupid fucking woman that couldn’t even keep watch over a child.

  She swung the door of the storeroom open and it banged against the wall. “Goddamn it!” Raven screamed and slammed her fist into a crate of vegetables. She rested her forehead against the stack of crates and let her hands fall to her sides. Rocky sighed and lay down at her feet, resting his head on his paws. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she didn’t try to stop them. A sob escaped her lips and then another. Raven slid to the ground and landed on her knees. Hunching in on herself, she put her face in her hands and cried.

  Liz

  Liz woke to the smell of diesel. There was something draped across her face and she felt movement beneath her. For a moment her brain couldn’t make sense of what was happening then it hit her. She remembered the man in the truck and how he’d pulled her inside. Fear gripped her belly and she swatted frantically at whatever it was on her face. She flung it aside and the gunnysack fluttered to the truck bed. Liz sat up and looked around.

  The interior was dim and she could see that a canopy, kind of like a tent enclosed the space. There were boxes stacked against the side and bags of guns carelessly left open on the floor. The thought flitted through her mind to grab one but she quickly banished it.

  I don’t know how to use a gun, she thought.

  “I see we’re awake now, missy,” A cold voice whispered.

  Liz let out a shriek and scooted until her back hit a stack of boxes. They shifted behind her, but did not fall. The voice was coming from a man, sitting with his back against the tailgate. There were flaps in the canvas behind him that led outside, but they were tied shut. Very little light leaked in.

  “He will be glad of that,” the man spoke. He rose to his knees and gave Liz a Cheshire grin. His skin was dark and his eyes flashed in the dimness. The man had close-cropped hair and wore camouflage pants and a black t-shirt. Liz could see a matching jacket draped across a large blue bag.

  “W-what do you want with me?” Liz stammered, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

  “Me?” the man asked. “I don’t want nothin’.” He grinned and his teeth were very white in the darkness.

  Liz knew she was in trouble. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep or knocked out or whatever but it felt like a while. “What time is it?” she questioned.

  The man continued to grin and pressed a button on the side of his watch. The face lit a pale green and he answered. “Nearly nine.”

  Fear twisted in Liz’s belly like a struggling worm. “At night?” she squeaked.

  “Oh, yes, honey bunch,” the man answered. “We’ve been driving quite a while.” He leered at Liz.

  Be brave, she told herself. Be brave like Raven and Henry. She missed them desperately and she was terrified, but was determined not to let those feelings control her. Liz took a deep breath and when she spoke her voice was steadier.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To meet the President,” the man answered, snapping off a salute.

  Liz couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. She pressed her lips together. “The real president?” Liz inquired, skeptical. She thought she remembered hearing something on the news when she was still with Daddy about the President being killed.

  “The only one we’ve got,” the man answered.

  Liz didn’t know what to think of that.

  “We’re nearly there.” He tossed a bottle of water and a granola bar at Liz. “Eat that.”

  Her stomach rumbled and she tore open the wrapper and gulped down the water.

  “Easy there,” the man said. “You’ll make yourself sick. I ain’t cleanin’ up that mess.”

  Liz glanced at the man then back down to the truck bed. Her mouth was full, cheeks puffed out with food, and she took a moment to swallow. Liz felt ashamed for eating her captor’s food but what choice did she have? She had to keep her strength up if she wanted to escape, and she did want that. Her fear threatened to swallow her again at the thought of running through the world alone but it was nothing compared to what could happen to her here. Wherever here was?

  Think about Raven and Henry, she instructed herself. What would they do right now? She thought they would probably fight their way out but that wasn’t an option yet. Liz was small and people didn’t take notice of her. That would be her greatest advantage. She would have to wait and as soon as they left her alone she would make her move.

  I need to act frightened and stupid, she thought. That way they won’t suspect.

  Liz swallowed her last bite of granola and emptied the water bottle. She slumped against the boxes and purposefully let her bottom lip tremble. Moisture formed in her eyes and she covered her face with her hands, pretending to cry. It wasn’t that hard to fake being frightened. Her terror rode just under the surface, like a creature undulating beneath a still lake.

  “Cry if you gotta,” the man said coldly. “Just keep quiet. I don’t want any nonsense when you meet the President.”

  Liz let her body shake but smiled into her hands. Her plan was working so far. She just needed to keep it together long enough to get away then she’d make her way back to Raven somehow. Liz had been keeping track of the turns they’d made since she woke, three rights and a left. She could find her way back that far. After that, she would have to wing it.

  Bee

  Bee sank gratefully into an easy chair with a sigh. She scrubbed her hands across her face and ran them through her short hair. It had been an exacting night. She and Rodney had gotten Louise settled in the guest bedroom. Her limbs were stiff and unyielding and Bee couldn’t do much more than remove her friend’s shoes and hat. They left her beneath
the covers, fully clothed. Rodney had excused himself, pleading exhaustion. Scout followed him to his room, wagging his golden tail. The man had looked fatigued. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin was rather pale. Bee wondered if he was in poor health or if he, like she, was just wearied from the crazy turn the world had taken.

  “Speaking of fatigue,” she said, stifling a wide yawn.

  Bee got reluctantly up from the comfortable chair and moved barefoot across the floor. Rodney’s house was warm, heat pumped from an old-fashioned wood stove, making the room very habitable. The smoke was carried outside through a thin metal chimney; Bee had seen it puffing away in a homey fashion when they approached the cabin. The sweet scent of cedar filled the room and Bee inhaled deeply.

  She’d brought in her main bag and rummaged in its depths for her nightclothes. Pulling out a pair of sea green cotton bottoms and a flowing long-sleeved shirt, Bee gladly pulled off her coat and jeans. Dressing quickly in case Rodney should come downstairs, Bee lay on the couch. He’d told her where to find clean linens and blankets and she’d made up her bed already. Shifting to reach the novel she’d been reading, Bee felt a twinge in her back. She sighed and grabbed her book, lying flat again until the cramp subsided.

  Scout came clicking down the stairs, nosing curiously at Bee’s feet beneath the covers. His coat was golden brown and luxuriously. Bee was betting that Rodney brushed the dog regularly and fed him well.

  Bee whistled softly and patted her thigh.

  Scout’s tail began to wag, swinging in wide arches back and forth.

  “Come here, love,” Bee said, smiling. It had been a long time since she’d owned a dog. Long ago in what felt like someone else’s life she’d had a small collie. It was cute and obedient, but died unexpectedly just after her husband did. Bee couldn’t bring herself to adopt another animal. She was too exhausted to care for anyone other than herself.

  “And Louise,” she murmured, petting Scout’s head. Her back twinged again and she sighed. “It’s hell getting old,” Bee spoke to the dog. “And living through the apocalypse as an old woman doesn’t really appeal to me.” She chuckled.

  Scout barked and trotted back up the stairs, sniffing along the runner that ran their length. It was checkered with red and green on a brown background. The rug made bee think of Christmas and the trip to Ireland she’d taken with Frank before he died.

  Sighing again, Bee opened her book and tried to get lost in the story.

  The heroine — a woman in her early twenties with long brown hair and piercing hazel eyes named Abeduna — ran through the jungle. Her skin was bronzed and she wore beaded cloth that covered what modesty required but nothing more. She dodged a green jungle snake and leapt across a rushing stream, swinging herself with her arms, hands locked around a thick vine. Her fingers were unadorned. She no longer wore the rings of her people. Abeduna felt a wave of sadness wash though her, thinking of the loss of her tribe. She jogged quietly past a mother jaguar and her cubs, so silent on her feet that the protective mama did not stir.

  Bee turned the page and sighed, placing a hand on her breast. She loved romance novels of any type; especially the stories that focused on lovers who were willing to overcome any obstacle to be together. She could hear the pattering of rain outside. The ever-present moisture that fell from the clouds since this all began. Bee focused on her book again, drowning out the world.

  Abeduna crept outside Benjamin’s tent. He camped in a small group of Englishmen like himself and she strode silently to the mouth of his abode.

  “Ben?” she whispered in her heavily accented English. “Are you there?” She poked her head into the tent and smiled, the soft features of her face gaining beauty as she grinned. Speaking softly in Cakchiquel, Abeduna entered.

  “Abeduna,” Benjamin spoke, rising from his pallet and taking her in his arms.

  Ben was handsome for a white devil, with striking blue eyes and pale skin. His hair was long and curly, tied back in an intricate plait. With kissable lips and a strong jaw, he was very different from Mayan men. All they wanted to do was hunt, fight and make babies. Abeduna wanted more.

  Ben pulled her down to his blankets and kissed her, lips hot and tasting of ale. Abeduna burned with his touch, molding her body to his. She moaned softly when his hand crept beneath her loincloth, gripping her heated sex. His finger slipped inside her depths and she was undone.

  “Bee?” a hesitant voice spoke, ripping her away from her book.

  Louise stood at the bottom of the stairs, peering at her with a mixture of fear and understanding.

  “How did we get here?” She walked closer, socks whispering softly across the end of the runner.

  Bee smiled and put down her book, marking her page carefully. Louise would wake up right at the juicy part, she mused then felt guilty for her flippant thoughts.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Bee asked, pulling the blankets off herself and rising to take Louise’s hand. “Come sit on the couch with me. We’re safe here, dear.” Bee led her friend to the couch where they sat. She kept a hold of Louise’s hand.

  Louise scrunched her eyes shut. It was an expression Bee had become familiar with. Louise was trying to recall the events that led up to the present moment.

  Her eyes snapped open, wide and lively in her face. “I remember being in the van and studying a map.”

  “That’s good, dear,” Bee spoke soothingly. “What else?” she prodded gently, squeezing her friend’s hand.

  “Oh!” Louise exclaimed. “The was an older gentleman and a dog.” She looked around with interest, taking in the unadorned walls of the cabin and its Spartan furnishings. “Is this his cabin?” Louise asked. She smiled broadly. “It is, isn’t it? I almost remember the drive here.”

  Her grin was infectious and Bee found herself smiling back.

  “That’s very good, dear,” she said. “Are you hungry? Rodney said we could make ourselves at home. I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen I could whip up.” Bee let go of Louise’s hand and rose from the couch. Her stomach rumbled and she realized just how famished she was. What with running from one emergency to another, Bee wasn’t quite sure when she last ate.

  “I’ll help you,” Louise spoke, following her into the kitchen.

  Rodney

  After a few weeks in the cabin with Rodney and Louise, Bee was feeling quite at home. She still had her worries, plenty of those to be sure, but her days had taken on the familiar rhythms of life.

  “You don’t look well,” Bee said, leaning over Rodney.

  The man sat in the easy chair, skin pale and breath coming a little too quickly.

  “I’ll be all right in a moment,” he spoke breathily. “I just need my pill to kick in.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

  Bee wondered just what pill Rodney had taken but decided not to ask. She was betting it had something to do with his heart. There were many older men with bad hearts and Bee felt saddened to think Rodney might be one of them.

  “All right then,” Bee said, patting him gently on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone.” She moved to walk away then turned back. “But,” she emphasized, pointing at Rodney, “bear in mind that I will be back to force some soup down your throat if you haven’t eaten by lunch.”

  The corner of his lip lifted in a smile and he made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Go on, woman,” he said. “Leave me in peace.” His eyes twinkled when he said it.

  Bee nodded curtly and turned around, grinning the whole while. She headed into the kitchen to make coffee. In the weeks she and Louise had been here, she’d gotten to know Rodney fairly well. He was a pleasant man and Scout was a very good dog, but Bee thought he should take better care of himself. She’d made it her mission to see that he ate at least two square meals a day. Trying at first for three, but Rodney had gotten cranky and hidden in his room until after lunch.

  Men are such children, Bee thought amusedly. Louise was still asleep
but Bee made enough coffee for both of them, knowing her friend would likely be up soon to enjoy it.

  “If she gets up at all today,” Bee muttered, setting water to boil on the wood stove.

  Louise hadn’t gotten out of bed for the past few days, except to use the facilities and she’d taken little food. Bee was worried about her fragile friend’s mental state, but she had bigger concerns. They were running out of supplies.

  The kettle began to bubble, heating quickly on the stove.

  Rodney had a generator to run the electricity but he was rapidly running out of gas. They used the wood stoves as much as possible, only turning the generator on once daily to keep the gas from becoming stale. Bee knew they would have to leave and hunt for supplies soon or just find somewhere else to stay.

  “When this is all over,” Bee stated, sitting at the utilitarian wooden table and resting her chin on her fists. “I’m giving myself a spa day, manicure, pedicure, massage. The whole works.” She thumped her fist down on the table, causing the ceramic sugar jar to jangle. It was squat and white in the shape of a miniature teapot.

  “What’s all the ruckus in here?” Louise asked, poking her head into the kitchen. Her hair was sleep-tousled but she looked rested and alert.

  “Oh, nothing,” Bee smiled, gladdened to see her friend up and moving.

  Louise hadn’t slipped into one of her catatonic states since their arrival but she had quite a few days where she was afflicted with crippling depression. She never said anything about it directly but Bee had known Louise for a very long time. Louise couldn’t slip much by her.

  The kettle whistled and Bee rose to quiet it.

  “I’ll get it,” Louise spoke, gently pressing Bee back down into the chair. She smiled and Bee nodded.

  Louise opened the beige painted wooden cabinet and pulled down the instant coffee and powdered creamer. Bee noticed that the coffee was getting depressingly low. They still had, well Rodney still had, plenty of strong black tea but it just wasn’t the same. Bee’s late husband had been very fond of tea, never being much of a coffee drinker himself. That was one of his few faults.