Undead L.A. (Book 2)

by Devan Sagliani

  Serves the little bitch right, Tyler thought.

  He redoubled his efforts to drive the lamp through Mr. Hendrix's face, but despite sinking the business end of the lighting fixture nearly half an inch into the man's right cheekbone, the monster still kept fighting.

  “What's it gonna take to fucking kill you?”

  In frustration Tyler yanked at the lamp, pulling the man closer to him in the process. He kicked Mr. Hendrix in his spare tire, giving the metal rod a solid tug, and managed to dislodge it. He couldn't believe his good luck, but he didn't waste any time celebrating. Using both hands, he whirled the lamp around and used the base to knock Mr. Hendrix to the soiled carpet. Even though he was wounded beyond comprehension, the reanimated corpse began to crawl towards Tyler, still unwilling to surrender. Tyler stood over him and, using both hands, drove the hard metal into the man's skull over and over, until he stopped moving. Tyler was panting and covered in sweat when he threw the lamp aside, but he knew he wasn't done yet.

  I just need a quick minute to catch my breath, he thought.

  The sound of the living room glass exploding let him know he wasn't going to get it. Tyler sprang towards the front door like a jackrabbit on the run from a pack of wild predators. He threw the door open, and ran fast as his legs would carry him out into the street, praying that he wasn't headed straight into a herd of undead biters in the process. To his astonishment the street was relatively calm, with most of the walking dead headed towards the commotion in the backyard, and only a few spotted him. He didn't waste any time putting distance between himself and them. Pumping his legs as fast as he could go, he propelled himself like a rocket towards Emily's front door. In moments he was on the soft grass of her front lawn heading towards the big bright mat with the words “ALL ARE WELCOME” scrawled across the front.

  Not today they're not, Tyler thought.

  The living room window was sprayed with blood from the inside, obscuring any potential view he had. The sight of it caused his stomach to clench up again, and fear to spike through his bloodstream.

  What if she didn't make it?

  He pushed the tiny voice from his head, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it open without hesitation. He stepped inside and slammed the door behind him, unconcerned about the attention that he might be bringing down on himself. He felt like a wild animal was trying to claw its way out of his chest. Sweat poured down the sides of his face. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, like a hammer coming down hard on sheet metal over and over again.

  “EMILY!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “WHERE ARE YOU?!”

  He was halfway up the short set of stairs that led towards the living room when he heard her voice, soft like a whispered question with the words lilting upward in pitch at the end of the sentence.

  “Tyler? Is that you?”

  He rounded the banister at the top of the stairs to find her kneeling in a pool of blood. Her hands were trembling violently. She looked like she'd been crying for days. Her makeup streaked down her face like brushstrokes in an abstract painting. Just in front of her was the corpse of a man, minus the head, which had been blown clean off. There was a bloody shotgun resting in the puddle of filth matted into the carpet. In an instant it became clear to him what had happened.

  Her dad got bit somehow, Tyler thought. He knew he was going to die so he offed himself. That's why the windows were covered in blood.

  He rushed to her without a word, and threw his arms around her. It took her a minute to respond, her shaking limbs finally reached around him and clung to him for dear life. She leaned her face into his chest, and he felt her warm tears wet his skin.

  “Oh my God. I can't believe you're really here,” she said, the words partially muffled by his shirt. “It's like a dream.”

  She's in shock, he thought, wondering just how long she'd been sitting in the living room, or if she'd seen him do it.

  Their reunion was cut short by the sound of pounding on the front door. Emily stiffened and let out a scream, which only made the heavy thumping grow more intense. Tyler jumped to his feet, ran to the living room window, and used a throw pillow from the loveseat to wipe clean a spot.

  It's not like anyone is going to mind now, he thought.

  He cleared away just enough of the gunk to confirm his worst fear. Outside, a steady stream of zombies was pouring out of houses and yards. They were making their way to her front door, where a knot of big angry-looking dead guys were already busy hammering their bloody fists on the wood. Even if they reinforced the door with the sofa, it would eventually break under the weight of their collective mass and send them spilling into the tiny house.

  “We need to go now,” he said, running back and putting his hand out. “We don't have much time.”

  “Go where?” she asked.

  Good question, he thought.

  Before he had time to come up with an answer, the entire front door cracked down the middle and the dead began to flood into the house. Emily let out a blood-curdling shriek that sent icy chills down Tyler's back, making the hairs on his entire body stand on end. He grabbed her hand, and yanked her roughly to her feet. The next thing he knew, they were running into the kitchen. Emily tried to pull him toward the long, dark hallway that lead to her bedroom in the back, but he fought her.

  “We'll be trapped,” he warned her. “They'll be no way to get out.”

  “The backyard,” she yelled back. “We can climb the back fence and run into Angeles National Forest. That way they can't corner us.”

  It was the best they could do on short notice. Tyler darted to the back patio and leaped down over the railing off the redwood boards. Whipping his head around, he saw they had a narrow corridor to escape through if they hurried. He held Emily's hand, helping her down off the patio and onto the lush grass of the backyard near the pool. They ran for the back fence, still holding hands. For a moment it seemed like they were home free, until Emily tripped. She fell face first in the grass and let out a loud cry.

  By the time he helped her back to her feet, their escape route was blocked. They were surrounded on all sides with only moments to spare. It was a split second decision to run into the gardening shack, and lock the door. Had they not taken that action—there was no doubt in his mind that it saved them—they would be part of the motley assembly of flesh-hungry ghouls hunting them now.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He was surprised by the sound of her sweet voice. He hadn't known she was awake.

  “I was just thinking how much like a dream everything is right now.”

  “Maybe being trapped by flesh eating monsters is one of your crazy dreams,” she laughed. “My dreams are usually about shopping at the mall, and horses, and traveling to exotic places. They don't end in me being trapped in a small wooden room, waiting to be eaten alive by the animated corpses of my former neighbors.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “At least we still have each other.”

  “You know you always wondered why I picked you out of all the guys I know,” she began.

  “I've never said anything like that,” he protested quickly, but she cut him off.

  “Oh, we don't talk about it, but it's obvious. You try to hide your jealousy, and you do a pretty good job, but I still see it pop up from time to time. It's clearly coming from your insecurity about not being enough for me. That's why I never teased you about it. I understood that you felt that way, but I never saw you as missing something that other guys had.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Tyler you've got something all the other guys I've ever met will never have,” she said. “You're a romantic at heart. It's what I love about you.”

  “I don't know about that,” he said, feeling super uncomfortable by how candid the conversation had turned. He wasn't used to her being this direct with him.

  Don't over think it, man, he told himself. Jesus Christ. It's the end of the world and you still can't talk to her about your feeling
s? That's just pathetic!

  “Stop,” she said. “I want you to really hear this, just in case something happens. Not a lot of guys would leave the safety of their own home, leave their own family, to come looking for a girl they weren't even sure was alive. Not many guys would risk their lives to make sure I was okay.”

  “Well, they should,” he said forcefully, “because you are worth it.”

  “That's just it,” she said. “No one else showed up. No one else ever will. You are the only one who cares whether I live or die now. Do you get what that means?”

  He just nodded his head.

  Where is she going with all this?

  “I saw something in you the very first day we met. Something I've never seen before in anyone,” she recounted. “I knew I would end up falling in love with you even then. It wouldn't matter if you were rich or drove a nice car. All that would matter is that we ended up together.”

  “Well then, I guess you chose well,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little.

  “Yes,” she agreed, kissing him. “I did.”

  A loud explosion outside interrupted their moment, causing them both to flinch and hold their breath. There was a scraping sound in the distance, then a loud thud as something heavy rammed into a structure, followed by a tinkling and clanking as two by fours, stucco, wire, and glass rained down on hot asphalt.

  “What was that?” Emily whispered.

  “I don't know,” Tyler answered back. “Hold on a minute. Listen.”

  They both held their breath again. Emily began to squeeze his hand hard as the seconds clicked past.

  “I don't hear anything,” she whispered in frustration.

  “Exactly,” Tyler replied. “It sounds like somebody's house just blew up, and the noise drew away all the monsters. This may be our only chance to make a break for it.”

  “I don't know,” Emily murmured, looking pensive. “What if you're wrong? What if you throw open the door and they rush in?”

  “I'm not sure we have much of a choice at this point,” Tyler argued. “We can't stay in here indefinitely with no food or water. Hell, for all we know they might bring back more zoms with them and finally knock the shed down.”

  He held both her hands and stared into her eyes.

  “This may be the one shot we've been waiting for,” Tyler reasoned. “All we gotta do is get over the back fence, and out into the trees. Once we're on open ground we can get ahead of them, that is, if they haven't fed. I don't know why, but they are much faster once they've just gotten a mouthful of human flesh.”

  “That's not very comforting,” Emily said with a smirk.

  “I think it is,” Tyler countered. “There aren't many people out in the woods, and something tells me the bigger predators can take care of themselves and fend these things off.”

  “How are we going to survive out there?”

  “I was a Boy Scout,” Tyler assured her.

  “You got to Tenderfoot and quit,” she whispered.

  “That doesn't mean I didn't learn anything. I've been camping in the high Sierras for weeks on end. I know how to start a fire with two sticks, trap food and fish, and ward off animals. I know it's a risk, but it's a bigger risk staying here and waiting for someone else to come rescue us. We have to assume that there isn't anyone left. We have to assume we're on our own if we are going to make it out of this alive.”

  “But I'm so scared,” Emily moaned.

  “I am too, but that just means we'll both be on high alert. What do you say? Do you trust me?”

  “Yes…I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he exhaled, leaning over and kissing her. He pulled back first, working himself up to execute their great escape. He took several deep breaths, turned his neck from side to side, causing it to crack loudly, and shook his hands. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. When he opened them again, she was expectantly starting at him.

  “I'm ready,” she said, giving him a nod. “Get us out of here.”

  “Count of three?”

  “One, two, three...”

  Tyler grabbed her by the hand and kicked open the door. The undead monsters that had been patiently waiting to feast on them all night were now lumbering along the side yard, and heading back towards the front of Emily's house. Through the narrow gap, Tyler could see that Mr. Hendrix's neighbor’s house was engulfed in bright yellow and orange flames. A hole had been torn through the roof. Flickering tongues of fire and smoke poured out of it. There was a large crack in the side of the house. The zombies were climbing over one another as they flooded into the damaged structure.

  There was screaming coming from inside. It sounded like a man was being pulled apart. There were no discernible words, just anguished syllables crying out and echoing up the street. The more he screamed, the more zombies flocked towards the house, desperately searching for the entrance. Tyler didn't waste any time.

  “Keep up with me, and whatever happens, don't fall down or trip! Got it?”

  Emily nodded her head in reply, biting her lower lip. Tyler wanted to kiss her again right then and there. He knew he'd made the right choice in coming back for her. He was going to miss his brother, but he knew he couldn't live without her.

  Sean would understand. He'd be happy that I made it this far. So would our folks.

  Tyler squeezed her tiny hand as a sign that they were ready to move, then bolted forward out into the open. He went right for the fence line in the backyard. Just beyond was a large natural forest—one of the few in all of Los Angeles. He'd meant what he'd told her about there being a lot fewer zombies hiding out in the hills than there were in the city. It just made sense. Zoms congregated where they could feed on people. They didn't just wander in the wild.

  You’d better hope you are right, he thought as he raced up the slight embankment of grass towards the wood fencing. He heard another explosion behind him and turned back. Emily's face was a mask of intense fear. He looked past her to see the fire was now spreading to Mr. Hendrix's house, which was fully engulfed in flames as well. He wondered if maybe a car inside the garage of the home had exploded. It didn't matter. Whatever it was had gone off in that house. He heard the sound of planes off in the distance, like an air show. Something thin and silver shot past them, the sound of the engine’s loud roar silenced all other sounds.

  Emily tugged at his hand. He turned back to her. Her lips formed the words “Keep… going.”

  He climbed the fence, and she followed close behind. They turned and ran into the shelter of the trees. He didn't want to stop until he was certain they were far from all of it. He ran until he could feel his lungs burning. He held her hand so tight he thought she was probably losing circulation. He didn't want to lose her now. He couldn't! He'd sacrificed everything for her. The sound of the planes began to recede, leaving the sound of his own beating heart thrumming in his ears. The world was silent, and then he heard them. The crows were flying behind them, chasing them as they went, calling out once more to mock them. One loud bird stood out over the rest, his cry like a smoker's cough. He flew over the tops of their heads and landed on a tree branch just in front of them. His feathers were as solid as midnight and his eyes a glossy black darkness that held the shadows of a grave. Looking down at them he loudly cried out, heckling them as they fled.

  This is the way the world ends, Tyler thought. Not with a bang or a whimper, but with a black crow laughing.

  They slowed as they passed the crow and moved deeper into the untamed world of raw nature. Behind them they heard the sounds of explosions ripping through air, laying waste to everything they'd ever known—and the nightmare it had become. He held her in his arms, and for the first time she started to cry.

  ***

  The Watts truce of 1992 was a peace agreement among rival street gangs in Los Angeles that took place just days before the outbreak of the L.A. Riots.

  Modeled on a previous ceasefire reached between Israel and Egypt, the agreement united various
factions of the deadly Bloods and Crips gangs, bringing a historic standstill to 20 years of internecine warfare that once raged across the public housing projects of Los Angeles.

  While not universally adhered to the temporary measure effectively reduced street violence for over a decade.

  On a darker note, it also created a framework for future gang coalitions and led to the rise of the super gang, a loose affiliation of various criminal organizations with mutually beneficial interests that became a recurring issue for law enforcement agencies both nationwide as well as around the globe.

  ***

  WE ARE THE HUNTERS

  Adam squatted down in the back alley, holding his hunting knife out in front of him like a talisman to ward off any unseen danger. The warm, gentle Santa Ana breeze made his sinuses feel like they were on fire. He ignored it—along with the foul stench reeking like burst sewer pipes that had taken over the street ever since the zombies had arrived—breathing through his mouth in low steady gulps as he assessed the situation. He swiveled his head back and forth one final time, making sure once again that no biters were bearing down on him from behind. You never really could be too careful, and he didn't plan on being accidently turned. He also didn't plan on being interrupted. He had work to do, ugly work, the kind you definitely didn't want to be disturbed while doing—not by anyone or anything that didn't deserve the type of vengeance he was about to dish out.

  Directly across from where he was crouched down he could see the metal door to the Del Taco bathroom, propped open casually by a cinder block with a loop of chain and a dangling key. Adam remembered when gas station owners used a similar method to keep spare keys from walking off. There was a gleaming silver Mercedes parked just in front that partially obscured his view of the child rape in progress. The driver's side door had been left open and the keys in the ignition caused steady, almost rhythmic dinging to waft pleasantly through the air. Adam focused his mind on it for a moment, allowing himself to become centered for the battle that lay just ahead. It was almost enjoyable in a way, that pulsing ding, once you surrendered to it, like a digital facsimile of the high ringing of a church bell heard from far away. In fact it reminded him a little of Christmas music, if he was being honest.