She could keep going and live. The zombies were distracted.
Bernie knew there was no way she’d leave Profit behind.
She pushed off the wall and held her breath as she hit the water and went under.
Even though it was a hot, sunny day the water was cool. Refreshing.
Arms tried to grab her but she kicked off the bottom and broke the surface, taking a deep breath. Bernie swam away from a floating zombie on the surface, his innards trailing in the water behind him.
Bernie dove down and despite the silt and sand being churned up by the zombies, she saw Profit. He was fighting off two zombies but the current was beginning to pull him from the safety of the shore.
She wanted to swim to his aid but there were too many zombies in the water, either bobbing and floating at the whim of the current or stuck to the riverbed, either snagged in fallen trees and debris or buried in the sand.
Profit managed to push away from the zombies but, as he broke the surface for air, Bernie could see he’d gone towards the center of the river and the current had a hold on him.
Bernie began to swim, knowing she’d be yanked around as well.
She couldn’t leave Profit behind and she wanted to be with him wherever they went. Why pull yourself from the river alone and have to fight to get back to Profit? She figured she might as well stay with him no matter what.
Even if it meant they were both broken against a tree trunk in the river or drowned by zombies.
Bernie was caught in the current. She could see Profit ahead of her and was glad to see he was still conscious and swimming with the current. He turned onto his back and began swimming with a smile.
Showoff, she thought and swam with the current to catch up, glad he was safe but hoping he’d have the sense to slow up so they could be together again.
Together again. She liked that. Since she’d met Profit there’d been a definite mutual attraction but they’d never had time to really act on it. A few innuendoes and flirts but nothing solid.
Bernie wanted to change that. Why shouldn’t she be happy? The world was a mess around them but she needed something to focus on that was positive. Something she could live for. Profit would be that reason to stay alive.
Profit stopped swimming and was treading water as Bernie approached.
She was tired but happy as they were joined back together.
“I figured you’d keep climbing. Get away. Go find another good-looking black man to hang with.” Profit grinned. “Not a better-looking one, though. Even when the world was right there weren’t any better-looking than me.”
“Or as humble.”
“What do you want to do now?”
Bernie swam past Profit and waited for him to follow. The current was pulling them along but if they drifted they’d be forced onto the shore, where too many zombies were now pacing with them and entering the water.
Hundreds of zombies lined the banks on either side.
“I say we get as far away from The Promised Land as possible. We’re being pulled north. Why fight it? We just need to move faster than our nosy friends and not get snagged on something underwater.” Bernie’s arms were spasming and she wanted nothing more than to relax and drift on the water. A nice raft or inner tube would’ve been a nice luxury to have.
“Stick to the relative center of the river. We have a better chance of not being attacked. The only problem is the zombies falling into the river and being pulled ahead of us. At some point they’ll be in our way,” Profit said.
“At least they can’t swim.”
“I guess that’s something,” Profit said. He was staring at a large group of zombies about a hundred feet ahead on the eastern shore. They were all walking into the river and angling towards Bernie and Profit.
Bernie saw the group and tried not to panic. There might be a couple hundred zombies, all crammed together in one large pack and being forced into the river by their numbers.
All staring at Bernie and Profit.
“What are we going to do?” Bernie started to swim towards the other shore but there were still too many zombies on that side, too. It was also shallower in places and zombies were still standing. They’d be able to attack as you swam up to them.
“Start swimming. We need to outrun them or we’re dead.”
Bernie didn’t need to be told twice.
She could see a high natural embankment ahead on the right with a collapsed boat dock submerged in the water. If they could get there, they had a chance of pulling themselves out of the water and onto dry land. There were only a few zombies there at the moment and the rest weren’t moving fast enough to intercept them.
“You see what I see?” Bernie turned to Profit, hoping he would change direction with her quickly and outrun the zombies.
She heard the splash as he went underwater, his hand slapping the surface, trying to keep afloat.
Chapter Twenty One
Mitch and Tosha made it to the boat without a zombie attack or getting shot at.
Tosha covered them with a rifle as Mitch placed the bundle of ammo and weapons into the boat and walked it a few feet into the river.
“I’m ready when you are,” Mitch said.
Tosha took a last look up and down the road. No zombies. No one trying to flank them with weapons.
Just another sunny day in Florida.
She stopped and put up a hand.
Mitch mouthed what?
“No sound. No gunfire. No screaming. Just birds and the water. It feels like we’ve been surrounded by the sounds of death for months,” Tosha said.
“We have.” Mitch helped Tosha into the boat. “You have changed.”
“Go fuck yourself. You’re rowing, too.”
She sat up in the front of the boat with the rifle in hand and eyes darting back and forth between the shores. They were most vulnerable when they were close to either side and someone with a weapon had a bead on them.
Mitch was rowing, strong and fast. His eyes kept moving, too.
Tosha could see zombies underneath the boat but they were either stuck in the mud below or snagged on debris and unable to break the surface.
She wondered how long their bodies could last in the river until the fish pulled them apart or the current ripped them to pieces.
Mitch had them moving at a good pace as soon as they launched.
“Keep your head down,” he said.
“No shit? I was about to stand and flash my tits while yelling, I’m glad you told me how to not get killed.” Tosha glanced back at Mitch and winked. She knew she was being a bitch today but so fucking what.
“Do you think anyone is alive?” Mitch asked.
Tosha shrugged. “We won’t know until we get across and look. If there’s anyone still breathing, they’ve hopefully gone into hiding. Maybe we’ll find tracks. Someone who can point us in the right direction.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Short of shooting you in the face I can’t stop you, but it better not be another dumb-ass observation about how I’ve changed.” Tosha gave another sweep of the riverbank before nodding at Mitch to continue.
“Why Florida?”
“Because that’s where we are.”
Mitch shook his head as he rowed. “No. I mean… it’s obvious the zombies have been called here. Led here since the beginning. Even from the beginning they started marching south as individuals. I encountered hundreds on the road and they were all pointed south unless they were chasing prey. Why? For this big fight? Is this it? Is this the human race’s last stand?”
“I try not to think too far ahead,” Tosha said but she started to think about what he was saying.
“My real question: why are we here? You and me. If the zombies kept heading south, why did we?”
“I was driven this way. It was either try to fight through thousands of zombies or keep being herded south.”
“I don’t think so.”
Tosha kept scanning the river. “You weren’t there.
You don’t fucking know what I’ve been through.”
“I was there. Remember? Maybe not with you physically but in spirit. Following my own path. South. Why didn’t I just hole up in a building or underground for a few days and let the horde pass? Because something was also driving us to head south, too.” Mitch groaned. “I feel like an idiot.”
“I don’t. I feel like a survivor.”
“It feels like we’re sheep led to the slaughter. One different turn north instead of south in Virginia or South Carolina and I’m freezing my butt off in Toronto instead of sweating it off in Florida.” Mitch increased his rowing. “You see what I see?”
“I’m on it.” Tosha could see bodies bobbing in the water and being tossed in their direction by the strong current. “I’d rather not shoot and alert everyone we’re out in the open, though.”
“The current isn’t going to make this easy for me to get past them or let them pass us.” Mitch started rowing frantically.
Tosha turned the rifle around to use as a bludgeoning weapon. If they came near the boat, she could try to push them away or bash in their faces.
The bodies weren’t moving except on the waves. They weren’t zombies. They were normal dead people with their faces blown off and limbs missing. Puckered gunshot wounds riddled the first body that came close and slapped into the side of the boat before Tosha was able to push it away with her weapon.
Bodies that had been in the water for weeks or months. Waterlogged bags of meat, chunks missing and separating from the muscle.
It was almost enough to make Tosha puke over the side but she held it together. She reminded herself she’d seen worse in this life. A lot worse.
Mitch was staring at the distant shoreline, eyes never straying to the grotesque sights in the water.
“How do you do it?” Tosha asked.
“What do you mean?”
“How do you get used to the bodies? The death? You were military. Lots of rumors about how many people you killed before this shit.” Tosha sat back in the boat and sucked in fresh air, trying to settle her stomach. “Is it too late for me to get used to it?”
“I’m not used to it. Never have been and never will be. When you look at a dead person and all you see is nothing more than another dead person, you’re dead inside yourself.” Mitch stopped rowing, letting the momentum push the boat. “I served in Afghanistan. Kuwait. Never shot my weapon except at practice. I was stationed at Fort Hood in Texas and killed a man robbing a gas station twenty miles from the base. How’s that for crazy? The only person I’d ever aimed a weapon at and shot was a fellow American struggling to make ends meet.”
“I used to keep track of my kills when this began, like I was in a video game. I stopped counting the first time I had to kill someone who’d been breathing a second ago.” Tosha looked out across the river, expecting to see her dead sister standing on the bank waiting for her.
“It will eat you up inside. Trust me. I lost many friends and family because they had to pull the trigger.” Mitch started rowing again.
Tosha was sick of being tough. Sick of seeing so much death.
If she survived this battle, she wanted nothing more than some good heavy metal music and a bottle of anything.
Chapter Twenty Two
“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll be taken care of as soon as we’re done eating.” The man, one of the men Jada had initially begun following, waved a chunk of grilled meat in front of her eyes.
He grinned when Jada stared at it.
“I think she’s hungry.” He put the meat close to her lips but she knew he’d snap it away if she made a move.
“Asshole. Don’t waste good food on her.”
He shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to keep your future food well-fed? We have enough meat for a few days. If we’re voting, I say we keep her alive and have some fun with her. Then we cook her juicy thighs.”
“There is no voting. Sit the fuck down and eat or you’ll forfeit your portion.” The other man, the only other one left in camp, looked like he was in charge.
The other four men had gone off in pairs to search for their missing friend. Jada knew they’d been more pissed because a big chunk of meat had also disappeared.
Whether or not they thought he’d run off or something bad had happened to him, Jada didn’t know.
She hoped something bad happened to him, like Machete Guy cutting his throat.
Where the fuck was Machete Guy?
Jada was strapped to a broken wall, her hands behind her back and feet tied with thick rope and spread apart. Her legs were cramping from the awkward angle and she had no wiggle room to move, her head pressed against the warm concrete wall behind her thanks to a chain around her neck.
These guys were taking no chances she’d escape.
Jada closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. She was so tired. Weaker than she’d ever been. She needed to conserve her strength and make her move to escape, if it were even possible.
“Don’t tell me you found nothing.”
Jada opened her eyes to see the four men returning empty-handed.
“He’s gone. We don’t think he ran off, though. We found some blood down the street.”
“There’s blood everywhere. Everything is covered in blood. How do you know it’s his? Did you test his DNA?”
“It was fresh. We also found his boot. Definitely his boot.”
The leader swung around and eyed Jada.
She looked away, hoping he’d see her as weak and not bother.
“Bitch, you need to tell me who you’re working with. Right now.”
“I’m alone,” Jada said. As much as she had a sinking feeling Machete Guy had screwed her over and left her for dead, the small chance he was biding his time to rescue her was worth keeping her mouth shut.
“Why do I not believe you?” The man shook his head and punched her in the gut.
As she gasped for air, he leaned in and laughed. “You’re tough. It’s gonna be fun breaking you.”
Jada lifted her head defiantly. She was going to make him pay.
He coiled his body and struck, headbutting her in the face and cutting open her cheek. “I saw that look in your eye, girl. The same one my damn wife had. The second ex-wife, anyway. She liked to show her ass and act like she wasn’t scared. She was scared. If you ask me, it was her own fault she got hurt so bad.” He gripped Jada’s head in his hands. “She was uppity like you. Had a mouth on her.”
Jada couldn’t see out of the eye he’d hit. She shook her head but it was no use. The pain behind her eyes throbbed in sync with her heartbeat, which was rapid.
The leader walked away with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Jada wanted revenge. She wanted to make all of these filthy animals pay.
She wanted to reunite with Profit and tear across open roads shooting everything that moved. Jada wanted to be free.
They weren’t going to let her be. Another guy came towards her.
The guy stopped in front of Jada and smacked her in the face.
When she glared at him, the next hit was a closed fist to her already ruined eye, which jarred her head back against the wall.
Jada knew the back of her head was bleeding.
Another guy came over and pushed his buddy away.
“Stop hitting her so much. She’ll be no good for later.” The guy licked his lips and got close to Jada. She could smell the meat on his breath. “I haven’t been with a woman in too long. I want to make sure she has some fight left in her.”
Jada’s throat was dry. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t have the spit in her mouth to swallow. Her thoughts were blurred and her one working eye was watering.
She looked down the road and wanted to scream but she didn’t have the energy.
Machete Guy, with a smile on his face and the missing man over his shoulder, gave a quick wave before he turned and walked away.
Another punch to her face broke her jaw.
The next shot knock
ed her out for good.
Chapter Twenty Three
Three smarter zombies, working in tandem, were leading at least a hundred mindless zombies on a search and destroy mission. They went street to street, going into every building and turning over every piece of rubble.
Annihilating everything in their wake. They were throwing their bodies against walls and the smart zombies were using their powers to knock down support beams and upturn foundations.
They were truly trying to destroy the world around them. For what gain, though?
Darlene watched from the beach, making sure the survivors were still moving north and a large group of zombies wasn’t coming from the ocean.
They could take care of a few stragglers. It was hordes like she saw following behind them she was worried about.
The zombies didn’t act like they’d noticed them heading north and Darlene wanted to keep it that way.
Before she engaged with the smart ones, who could see her, she’d break a few necks of the rest and show them who she was. It wouldn’t scare them. They weren’t capable of that emotion, but it would give them pause.
It would also give her something to look forward to. She knew her son was going to prolong the final fight as long as possible. The longer it took the weaker she’d eventually get.
A zombie stepped out from between two crumbling buildings and smiled.
Darlene waved at him.
He ran at her, wielding two long blades in his hands.
Darlene let him get close enough to raise the weapons before she moved faster than he’d ever be able to and got behind him. She snapped his neck and ripped his head from the body in one fluid motion, tossing it like a basketball at the next zombie running in the sand.
This zombie had a rifle and stopped, firing at Darlene.
She stepped aside at the last second, even though she could’ve dodged it sooner.
A dozen zombies got behind the one with the rifle.
All smart, but not smart enough to run away and hide.
Darlene wasn’t easy prey.
“I don’t suppose you all know who I am and would rather walk away from your definite demise?” Darlene used her power to snap the rifle in half. Maybe she could get away without having to fight so many.
Dying Days (Book 9) Page 8