THE DEMON DEAD
TROUBLED WATERS
BOOK 2 OF 2
A NOVEL BY
ARTHUR M WYATT
Copyright © 2017 by Arthur M Wyatt
Also by Arthur M Wyatt
The Demon Dead: Tres Zombie(Book One)
Soul Survivor
www.arthurmwyatt.com
Copyright © 2017 by Arthur M Wyatt
Cover by: AEP Book Covers
I have taken certain fictional, temporal and geographical liberties in producing this novel.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without the written permission of the author.
ISBN-13:978-1540649980
ISBN-10:1540649989
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
CONTENTS
1- Rapid Eye Movement
2- One Hour Earlier
3- Condition “Z”
4- The Return
5- Lydia
6- Hells Bells
7- The Beamer
8- Vino
9- Conflagration
10- Ghost Ship
11- The Coachman
12- Joseph Ward
13- The Buck Stops Here
14- Pit Stop
15- Wild Turkey
16- Glassy Mountain
17- Ranger Neele
18- New Blood
19- Moment Of Truth
20- Hydrophobia
Epilogue
1
Rapid Eye Movement
-------------------------------------------悪魔死--------------------------The tires squealed as the car spun out of control. Helplessly, John held onto the steering wheel with all his strength. The overturned bus leapt out of the darkness and filled the windshield. The car barely missed it as John swerved to avoid a collision. The road was filled with the dead. Each one stopping to look up when the headlights fell upon them. Their eyes glowed bright blue in the lights. Entrails and flesh hung from their mouths. All were covered in blood.
The full moon shone brightly. Casting an eerie purple glow on the scene below. Fireworks exploded in the distance.
The bus was overturned half in and half out of the road. The victims strung out along side it. Each one besieged by the monsters. Each body in a different state of being consumed. Some now nothing more than bloody skeletons with meat clinging to bones. Intestines, body parts and dead babies littered the road.
There were thousands of walking corpses dressed in high school marching band uniforms. White with light and dark blue trim. A huge capital “D” embroidered on the front. Their white marching shoes reflecting the headlight’s beam.
Many were crushed by the car as it careened wildly. An elderly zombie snapped John’s photo as he raced by. The camera’s flash blinding him.
The stench was overwhelming. A sickening gumbo of putrefying death. John felt his stomach churn.
The bus driver, partially decapitated and dressed in a white shirt with a red bowtie, hung out of the broken front window. A horse whip clutched tightly in his hand. A gold crucifix around his neck. His body being devoured as if by vultures on road kill.
As the car slid sideways it left the roadway and slid into the dirt. The tires dug into the soft ground as dirt flew in the window and into John’s mouth, nose and eyes. He felt the car leave the ground as it barrel rolled. It flipped once and bounced into the air again. The airbag exploded, engulfing his head and sending it into the doorframe. A gash opened on the side of his face.
John found himself suspended upside down in his seat. Time slowed to a crawl. The scene passed before him in slow motion.
Drops of blood from the cut floated past his face. He reached out and poked one with his finger.
The overnight bag slapped his face as it exited the car through the driver’s side window. Johns eyes followed the bag out the window where his gaze met the eyes of a demon zombie standing in the road beside the upside down car. The demon grinned with evil delight.
John watched in horror as the demon screamed and lunged at him. Eyes wide with rage, its sharp jagged claws reaching through the window.
Time returned to normal. The silence replaced by a cacophony of terrifying sounds that assaulted his eardrums. The crash, the growls of the dead, the moans of the dying and the scream of the demon.
John was thrown around in the car as it rolled again, slammed to the ground and bounced into the air one more time before landing hard on its side. The car sat there for a second and slammed back down on its tires.
Blood ran down his forehead and into his eyes. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt. His head throbbed with every pounding beat of his heart.
“John,” came a voice from behind.
Startled, he looked into the rear view mirror. His wife Susan was in the back seat.
“Why did you let us die?!” she screamed.
He turned in his seat to face her. Blood filling his eyes again.
She held out a badly disfigured and burned fetus.
“Take it!” she screamed.
John recoiled in horror.
Susan’s face changed. The eyes sank back in the skull as her cheekbones jutted outward. The rotted skin on her face dropped off. Her scalp peeled away from the skull revealing gleaming white bone.
“You let us die… why didn’t you help us?!” the corpse screamed angrily. “You’ll burn in hell!”
A boney hand, flesh eaten away, reached out. John scrambled to release himself from the seatbelt.
The corpse burst into flames. He could smell the hair on the back of his head burning. The inside of the car was engulfed in fire.
The seatbelt finally released its hold. He slid out the window head first. The flaming corpse climbing over the seat and reaching out the window after him.
“You did this to us John!” it screamed.
John hit the pavement hard knocking the wind out of him. Dazed from the blow he opened his eyes to see the mob of dead converging. Before he could move they were on him. He screamed as their jagged nails dug into his skin. He felt teeth sinking into his flesh as he was being eaten alive. He drew his last breath as his windpipe was crushed and ripped from his throat, tightly gripped in the teeth of one of the creatures.
Blood shot high into the air from a severed jugular vein as his heart pumped a final beat...
John startled awake and sat up almost knocking Amy out of the rack and onto the floor. His heart was racing. His breathing rapid. The Aircraft Carrier’s alarms were sounding as John jumped to his feet.
“This is not a drill,” came a voice over the ships PA system. “I repeat this...” after that there was si
lence.
There was a pause and the intercom sounded again.
A struggle...
A scream...
Silence...
John felt as if he had awakened from one nightmare into another.
“Oh my God!” Amy said placing her hands over her ears. “John what’s happening!”
2
Two Hours Earlier
-----------------------------------------------悪魔死----------------------On the darkened flight deck no one noticed as the left side cargo hatch of the news helicopter slowly swung open. A dark figure slipped out of the compartment and dropped to the deck. A second soon followed. The two crouched in the darkness, waiting. They had listened as the two sailors on watch passed by minutes before.
When the guards returned, the stowaways were waiting. The sailors stopped at the rear of the helicopter to smoke. It was forbidden to smoke while on watch but what the hell. Things were different now right? They leaned their rifles against the aircraft.
Crowded together against the wind to light their cigarettes they were easy targets. Both succumbed to the attack and died quickly.
Each demon picked up a rifle and waited patiently for their new recruits to join them. Soon the bodies of the guards began to stir. First one and the other stood to its feet and stumbled in the dark. The two demons watched the zombies with anticipation.
There was an audible sucking sound as two more swooped in to fill the voids left behind by the departure of the sailor’s souls. The newly embodied demons heard sounds of approval as they took the pistols from their holsters and gripped them tightly. The four grunted with evil delight as they set off across the flight deck headed for the closest hatch.
Quietly they entered and climbed the ladder to the bridge. Neither of the three men on watch were paying much attention to what was going on other than their conversation about the unfair ratio of men to women on the ship.
The demons gained entry quickly and were upon the watch standers before they knew it. The first sailor was clubbed over the head with one of the assault rifles and knocked unconscious. The other two were set upon and attacked mercilessly. Their muffled screams lost to the world. No-one close enough to hear.
Once the sailors were dead the three sat and waited. They knew their comrades would soon join them.
Minutes later one of the dead sailors stumbled to his feet. He stood unevenly for a moment. The demons watched intently. Raising his feet high with each step, he walked clumsily over to the coffee pot and attempted to pour himself a cup. He spilled most of it on the deck. He eyed the demons nervously.
After only a couple of minutes the other two sat up, stood to their feet and stumbled around the deck. The two were soon taken over by disembodied demons who had been waiting just on the other side of the thin but imperceptible veil that separates our world from theirs. The zombies jerked awake as the demons took control.
The gomer backed away as they turned their attention to him.
One of the demons approached the gomer and beat him in the head with the rifle. Once the sailor’s gomer fell to the ground, The others joined in. The skull gave way with a sickening crack as blood and brains spilled out onto the deck at their feet.
When they were finished they held the weapons in front of their faces for a moment and studied them closely. They made several clumsy attempts to operate them. Finally giving up they tossed the rifles to the floor and headed down the ladder.
As the ship slept the demons descended into the berthing compartments. The unarmed slumbering sailors were easy prey.
The ranks of the dead grew over the next hour as the ship’s personnel fell victim to the attacks. First zombies rose. Demons swooped in to hijack many of the bodies of the risen. The zombies followed the demons in a grotesque version of follow the leader. Gomers wandered the ship. Confused.
Some of the crew were able to lock themselves in their compartments just ahead of the attackers, but now they were trapped.
Screams echoed through the ship as the demons approached the Captain’s cabin. He stepped out into the passageway to investigate. He turned to run but was set upon and ripped to pieces in a matter of minutes. The demons left him in a pool of blood as they moved on. The army of walking corpses following them. A group stopped to fight over and devour the body like a pack of hyenas. When they were finished there was nothing left but bones. The Captain would not be returning.
The demons neared the radio room where Petty Officer Fred Clinton was standing outside the door waiting on his relief, Petty Officer Johnston, who had the next watch.
He saw the demons coming through the open hatch nearby. They were closely followed by a mob of walking corpses. He turned, ran to the alarm system, and pulled the handle.
He picked up the PA system’s microphone. “This is not a drill. I repeat this…”
That was all he managed to say before being grabbed from behind. His neck was snapped and his body left to fall to the floor.
A demon picked up the microphone and eyed it closely. Bloody drool ran down his chin and dripped to the floor. He pressed the button, screamed into the microphone and growled. He threw the microphone against the wall, slammed his fist into the alarm silence button, and tore out of the room leaving one demon behind. The walking corpses set upon the body of Petty Officer Clinton to do their work.
Petty Officer Shanna Johnston was asleep in her compartment when the alarms sounded. She dressed quickly and headed to her designated watch station. The radio room.
She turned the corner and was almost there just as a demon zombie exited and headed her way. Their eyes met. The demon screamed.
The scream echoed through the passageway sending a chill up her spine. She turned to run and pulled the M9 pistol, that all watch standers were now required to carry, out of its holster.
In the military there are two kinds of people; those who demand respect purely based on rank, and those who command respect by their character. Petty Officer Johnston fell in the first category. She always seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. She was a twenty nine year old, five foot seven red head. Plain but attractive and career Navy.
It was her voice the survivors from Sullivan’s Island heard on the radio just the day before while still at the lighthouse.
From an abusive family, she joined the Navy to get away. As soon as she was old enough she went to the recruiters office and began the process to enlist. She couldn’t wait until high school graduation to leave.
The Navy was her opportunity to escape so she took it. She was an E-6, First Class Petty Officer, and a Mass Communication Specialist.
But now, Petty Officer First Class Shanna Johnston, was running for her life.
3
Condition “Z”
-------------------------------------------悪魔死--------------------------The alarms ceased as John and Amy looked at each other. Each knew what the other was thinking.
“That was a demon,” a frightened Amy said.
“I know,” John answered shaking his head.
“How?”
“I don’t know,” John said, “it doesn’t make sense”
“Since when has any of this made sense?’ Amy said.
Derek and Jimmy opened the door and entered.
“Ya’ll hear the demon?” Derek asked.
“Yes,” Amy said. “What do we do?”
“I’m going to see if I can find somebody who can tell us what’s going on,” Derek said.
“Where are you going?” Amy asked.
“Hopefully not far. I’ll be back.”
Derek stepped out of the compartment and headed off toward the stern of the ship. His footfalls echoed through the passageways.
“Be careful,” Amy shouted after him.
“I will.”
Petty Officer Johnston, with the demon close behind, ran to the nearest ladder and stepped down to the deck below. She hit the bottom and stopped. Turning she raised the pistol and waited.
After just
a few seconds the demon appeared at the top of the ladder. She fired three rounds as the demon lunged at her. One round entered its neck, the second entered its left eye. The third entered the left side of the forehead blowing out the back of the demon’s skull. A shower of blood, bone and brains splattered the railing.
The zombie tumbled down the ladder and landed at her feet. Blood spread out in a puddle underneath its body. Shanna raced back up the ladder and peered down the passageway. The site that met her eyes made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
A mob of angry corpses shuffled toward her. One in front stopped and screamed. The zombies following backed away.
The screaming zombie let out a loud growl and, as if shot out of a cannon, took off after her. Its red, hate filled eyes boring into hers as it came.
She fired two rounds, both of which missed. She ducked back down the ladder and closed the hatch behind her. She barely had it dogged down when the demon reached it and pounded with its fist.
“It’s a demon…” came a male voice from behind her.
Startled, she spun around and raised the gun. Standing before her was a tall stocky African American man in civilian clothes.
“Whoa…” Derek said raising his hands. “One of the good guys here.”
“Nice dreads,” she said. “Who are you?”
“The name’s Derek,” he answered. “I’m one of the survivors that landed last night on the helicopter.”
“Yeah,” she said lowering the weapon. “A civilian, great. Just what I need in a situation like this. A civilian to baby sit.”
“Baby sit? Are you kidding me?”
“No I’m not…”
“Wait just a minute…”
“No you wait... this is my ship,” she said tersely.
“Your ship?” Derek said. “I pay taxes. That pretty much makes it, our ship.”
“Whatever…”
“Wow…how about redirecting some of that anger towards these zombies.”
“Zombies… God I hate that word. Sounds like we’re in a horror novel or something. We call them stiffs,” she said.
The Demon Dead (Book 2): Troubled Waters Page 1