The Ark (Life of the Dead Book 3)

by Tony Urban

  That was easier than he thought and Aben began to think he might get out of this yet. He knew it had to be soon though because his lungs were seizing and he battled his body’s attempts to breathe.

  He reached over his head, feeling behind himself until he maneuvered his arm around the zombie’s neck, then he pulled it closer to him. He felt its teeth smash against his skull. Felt its jaws working, chomping down on his hair and realized his unruly mane had some benefits after all.

  Using all the strength he had remaining, Aben thrust his upper body forward, vaulting the zombie over his shoulder. That was the plan anyway. Instead its waterlogged body gave way and the monster’s head popped free of its torso. The skull tumbled end for end through the water and Aben would be damned if its face didn’t look surprised. He was too and it took him a good second and a half to realize he was still on the verge of drowning. After kicking his way back to the surface, his upper body poked through the hole in the ice and he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of air. He wasn’t going to dawdle this time. He kicked, dragged and pulled until his upper body was firmly on the ice surface.

  Prince kept barking, a sound so sweet Aben started to laugh, even if it was the damned dog that got him into this mess in the first place.

  “How about you give me a hand, boy.”

  Prince plodded toward him, laid down on the ice and licked his face. That was enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Saw spotted the man first. He was so white Mitch thought he might be albino and he sat on the bumper of a big rig eating heaping spoonfuls of beans straight from the can. To Mitch, he looked old, to Mitch, everyone over twenty was old. He had an oblong face and mud brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. They’d seen his truck moving a few hours earlier then stayed a mile or so back to remain out of view until he stopped.

  Mitch and Saw traded binoculars back and forth as they spied on him.

  “What do you say, Mitchy? Time to give him our sales pitch?”

  Mitch nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  They left the death machine parked on the side of the road and approached. Mitch had a loaded and cocked pistol in hand and another in a holster on his belt. Saw was unarmed.

  “Wotcha!” Saw called out when they were within shouting distance.

  The man jumped to his feet, sending the empty container careening to the roadway as he rushed toward the driver’s side door

  “Easy now, easy now. We’re as harmless as a couple mice and hope you can say the same.”

  The man didn’t flee, but when he stepped away from the cab Mitch saw he was carrying a broken baseball bat, the fat end partially sheared off into a jagged point.

  “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Solomon. But you can call me Saw. And this is my little buddy Mitch.”

  “Hiya,” Mitch added.

  The man didn’t respond and didn’t lower the bat. Mitch tightened his grip on the pistol.

  “Polite thing to do now is tell us your name,” Saw said.

  “Everyone calls me Casper. And if you’re harmless, why does he got that gun out like he’s ready to use it?”

  Mitch returned it to its holster. With a pistol on each hip he felt a little like an old west outlaw. He liked that.

  “He’s a little jumpy. Had some bad experiences with the zombies.”

  “Ain’t we all?” Casper said and he lowered his bat.

  “That’s the truth.”

  They were within a few yards of the man now. Saw picked up the can and motioned to Casper to get ready. The man narrowed his eyes at first, but when Saw took a pitcher’s stance, he caught on. Saw lobbed the can toward him. Casper swung and connected, sending the now dented can skidding along the highway.

  “I’d reckon that’s an easy double.”

  Casper smiled and Mitch was shocked at how easily Saw had brought down his guard.

  “Are you all by your lonesome out here?”

  “I am. You’re the first people - living people - I’ve seen in almost two weeks.”

  “Shame what’s happened, ain’t it? Almost everyone dead or turned. Rest of us left to fend for ourselves. It’s a hard life.”

  “Sure is.”

  Saw took a seat on the bumper, mimicking Casper’s positioning when they approached. Then Casper resumed his seat beside him. Mitch watched.

  “Where are you from anyway? You got a funny accent.”

  “Birmingham.”

  “Alabama?” Casper raised his eyebrows.

  “England.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  “And you?”

  “Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Little suburb of Philadelphia.”

  “You like it?”

  “Not really. Too many spooks.”

  Mitch noticed Saw squint, confused. He mouthed “Black people” to him and Saw nodded understandingly.

  “Ah, I get that mate. We don’t got any spooks in our group.”

  “There’s more of you?”

  “Right on. Two more. Three if you count the mutt.”

  “Mixed race?” Casper asked with a sneer.

  Saw grinned, showing his tiny, rotting teeth. “No, a real mutt. A dog.”

  Casper’s sneer faded. Mitch moved a little closer to get a better look at the harsh, black ink - prison tattoos - that stood out against his lily-white skin. Among them was an “88” scrawled in the hollow at the base of his throat and a pair of swastikas on the back of his hands. Swell guy, Mitch thought.

  “Why don’t you come with? Spend a couple days with us, see if you like the fit,” Saw said.

  Casper didn’t answer at first. Mitch half-hoped he’d say no. He liked their little group just fine and didn’t see the need to add anyone else, especially some asshole Nazi wannabe.

  “World’s a dangerous place, mate. We could use a man like you.”

  Casper sighed, nodded. “Yeah, that sounds fine. You boys need a ride?” He cocked his thumb toward the semi.

  “No, we’ve got our own. But bring that with. I have a feeling it might be useful.”

  Casper got into his rig and followed them back to Saw’s dump truck. Mitch saw the man’s eyes grow wide when he caught sight of it.

  “Ain’t that something?”

  Saw patted the cab lovingly. “It sure is.”

  Mitch was amazed at how Saw had transformed the man from a potential foe to an ally, all within a few minutes. He’s smoother than a politician. He thought his father could have learned a few things from Solomon Baldwin. Senator Son of a Bitch had tried to control people through empty threats and making them feel small. Saw fed into their needs and helped them be whatever they wanted to be. Saw was the type of father he should have had, not some self-important asshole in a fancy suit. Saw was the kind of man who could teach him about the world.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Saw’s plan was coming together better than he’d hoped. No matter how many ways he looked at it, he couldn’t find a flaw. After weeks of keeping it all to himself, he was ready to tell the others what he’d come up with.

  He went to Jimmy’s cabin first. Not because he liked him the best, he actually thought the old man was a right bellend, but because his quarters were the closest. Saw pushed the door open without knocking, an act he’d regret as soon as his eyes witnessed what was happening inside.

  Jimmy was on all fours on the bed, naked as the day he was born. His face was contorted into a grimace that Saw couldn’t decipher as pleasure or pain. Behind him, Lonnie hammered away. Sweat soaked his body and he seemed to struggle to keep pace with the frantic tempo he’d set. They were so caught up in the act that it took a moment for Jimmy to realize Saw was standing in the now open doorway.

  “Oh, oh shit!”

  Lonnie looked up, saw what was happening, and dropped backward on the bed, his hard dick flailing aimless in front of him. He grabbed the bedsheets to cover himself, but Jimmy had the other end, and the two played tug of war with it.

  This is
the lot I’m depending on? Maybe his plan wasn’t so perfect after all.

  Lonnie gave up on the sheet and reached for his pants which were discarded on the floor.

  “Hells bells, men. Bugger each other till your arseholes fall out for all I care. Just get yourselves together and meet me in the lodge.”

  He turned away, smirked to himself, then glanced back. “Go ahead and finish what you were doing. I don’t want you strolling in there with blue balls and a stiffy.”

  Saw went over the plan in his head one more time while they waited for Mitch to arrive. Aben absentmindedly scratched his stump with his remaining hand. Jimmy slouched in a chair at the end of the table and chewed on his mustache, not looking at anyone. Lonnie had been pacing back and forth, tiny, hurried steps. When Saw made the mistake of looking up, Lonnie grabbed his elbow and ushered him to the side.

  The man was still sweating, his skin pallid. Saw thought he looked a half second away from puking up whatever food lay inside his stomach.

  “What you saw there— I don’t want you to— I’m not queer, I just— “

  Saw fought back a grin. “I meant what I said. It don’t matter none to me. Now Casper, he’d probably be of a different mind so you might want to try locking the door lest he catch you two in the throes of passion sometime.”

  Lonnie looked toward Casper who sat at the table, interacting with no one except the cigarette he sucked on nonstop. Saw thought Lonnie shivered.

  “If he’d seen what I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cut your cocks off and shove ‘em down your throats.”

  Lonnie nodded and took the seat furthest from Casper.

  The door banged open and Mitch stepped into the lodge. His long hair was pushed in a dozen different directions and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to chase away sleep.

  “Okay mates. Now that everyone is here, we can get on with it.”

  He told them about the island. About the people. And his plans for them.

  Aben watched as Saw unfolded a map and pointed to a small land mass in the middle of a lake.

  “This is the place. They’ve got themselves set up right good. But they aren’t expecting us.”

  Aben looked from the map to Saw. The man’s beady eyes were downright gleeful.

  “And that’s going to make it easier for us to take.”

  “Why?” Aben asked.

  The question seemed to puzzle Saw and he didn’t answer right away. “Because I want it.”

  That wasn’t the answer Aben wanted to hear and Saw seemed to sense that. His expression softened. “Look, Aben, those people, they’ve got themselves their own safe haven out there. They should be flying a fucking welcome flag. But instead they’re hoarding it all for themselves. What kind of people do that?”

  Smart ones, Aben thought.

  “That still doesn’t give us the right to storm in there, guns blazing,” Aben said.

  “‘Wake up man. Did the Europeans have the right to take this country from the Indians? And did the Indians have the right to take it from whoever they stole it from? Did you have the right to march into Baghdad or wherever the fuck you were in the war?”

  “I didn’t want to go there either.”

  “But you did it. Because you’re a soldier and what do soldiers do? What they’re told.”

  As Saw laid out his plan, Aben had to admit, it seemed as close to a sure thing as possible if all the pieces came together. He hoped that never happened.

  The weeks after consisted of what Saw called ‘harvesting.’ In a police station, Casper had found a few of those long poles with a wire loop on the end, the kind dog catchers used to corral vicious animals. It proved the perfect tool to catch zombies too.

  Saw led the way in his dump truck. The other men followed behind in the semi. When they’d get close to a town, they’d lay on the horns all the way there, making as much noise and commotion as possible. That usually resulted in a dozen or more zombies flocking toward the road by the time they arrived.

  That’s when Saw slowed down. He didn’t want to run them down or tear them to pieces, he wanted to impale them on the metal poles or ensnare them in the razor wire he’d affixed to the death machine. He’d be going three or four miles an hour when he hit them, weaving back and forth and gathering as many as possible.

  If a few managed to avoid the truck, it was up to the other three men to catch them. They were all slow zombies, by this point, which made it easy and not too dangerous for Mitch and Aben to draw them toward the rear of the rig’s trailer. That’s where the pole came in. Casper snagged them around the neck and then the group of them lifted and pushed the zombies into the trailer.

  Before they went on these missions, Saw placed a pile of rotten meat at the front of the trailer. That seemed to draw the creatures further inside where they lost interest in the men who’d captured them.

  So far, they’d filled four trailers with, Aben estimated, sixty or so zombies each.

  Aben found Mitch playing poker with the other men. He was relieved to find Saw was not among them. He must have been off doing whatever the hell it was that Saw did when he was alone and those were details Aben didn’t care to know.

  “Hey Mitch?”

  Mitch looked up from his cards.

  “Can I have a minute?”

  “Yeah, let me finish this hand. Got a good feeling about this one.”

  Aben glanced at the kid’s cards. A pair of sixes.

  Casper raised with a box of powdered donuts. Jimmy followed by adding a bag of licorice to the pot. Lonnie went out and Aben thought Mitch should do the same. Instead, Mitch tossed in three candy bars. Good ones too.

  “Okay what do ya got?” Casper asked.

  Jimmy threw down three aces. Casper a straight flush.

  “Fuck!” Mitch threw his cards down while Casper cackled.

  “Lose again, Mitchy. When are you gonna realize you’re out of your league here?”

  Hopefully soon, Aben thought.

  “Come on.” Aben strolled away.

  Mitch followed, but not before kicking the pile of junk food, scattering it across the floor.

  Aben continued until they were two rooms over. He felt that far enough from curious ears, but just to be extra careful he grabbed a tennis ball and began tossing it against the wall. He sat on the edge of the bunk and motioned for Mitch to join him.

  Mitch flopped onto the bed beside Prince, scratching the dog’s belly.

  “I think that asshole cheats.”

  “He probably does. But you’re still a shitty card player. Don’t know why you bother.”

  Mitch sighed. “Helps pass the time. It’s so fucking boring here.”

  “I won’t disagree with that.”

  “What did you want me for anyway?”

  Aben threw the ball harder.

  Thwock! Thwock!

  “I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

  “Oh yeah? Where does Saw want to go now? Hopefully somewhere warmer. This cold and snow shit’s for the birds.”

  “Not just leaving this place, Mitch. Leaving Saw.”

  The boy sat bolt upright in bed. “Bullshit you are.”

  “I am. I’m tired of it all. Aren’t you?”

  Mitch broke eye contact with him and Aben thought maybe the kid shared more of his opinions on things than he cared to admit. “But where would we go? Back to crazy pastor Grady and his lone disciple?”

  As much as he wanted to get away, even Aben wasn’t up for that. “No. Somewhere else. We could take the dog and head south. Get away from the cold. Away from all this nonsense.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just think about it. Think about how you want to spend the next year, or hell five years for that matter. Do you want to be a lackey for this bunch of weirdos?”

  Aben threw the ball again. This time, Mitch caught it on the return bounce. He rolled it around between his palms.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it. But you won’t leave without telling me
first, will you?”

  “Nah. I won’t do that, kid.”

  Mitch nodded, passed the ball to Prince, and left the room.

  The kid was brash, full of piss and teenage hormones, but Aben liked him despite that. Maybe, in part, because of that. And if Mitch decided to stay, he’d miss him but his mind was made up. He had to get away from this place, these people, before it was too late.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Aben woke with a pain shooting through his right side.

  Bit, I’m being bit.

  His eyes shot open and he found Casper and Lonnie standing over him. Lonnie held a gun on him. Casper some sort of baton. Aben wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Rise and shine, soldier.” Casper poked him again and Aben realized he had the cattle prod. Aben’s body tensed, raising off the bed as electricity coursed through him. After a few seconds, Casper pulled the prod away and Aben collapsed back into the bed.

  Prince, who had been sleeping beside him, barked and snarled at them.

  Aben struggled to catch his breath. “What the hell?”

  Each man grabbed an arm and ripped Aben from his bed, dragging him out of the room.

  “Let me go you bastards!”

  Even though the men were smaller it was two against one and Aben had no chance of breaking free. They pulled him out of the bunkhouse and into the dim light of predawn.

  His bare feet hit the snow and he felt the chill race up his legs and settle into his groin. So damned cold. He was wearing nothing but his briefs and was experiencing major shrinkage. He had a feeling that was the least of his problems though.

  “If you assholes don’t tell me what’s going on real quick, I’m gonna hold a grudge.”

  He had a feeling he knew though. He hoped to God, if there was a God, that he was wrong, but he knew they’d never act on their own. Whatever was happening was happening because it’s what Saw wanted.