by Tony Urban
“Of course. Where else would she go? I told you before, William, all of this is because of me.”
Wim took a step backward. He was ready to go but he had one more question. And he knew he might not want to hear the answer. “But Hal— “
Doc nodded. “A most unfortunate, but not unexpected, development. Hal didn’t get sick because you brought the boy, and the virus here. The virus is everywhere. Hal got sick because his vaccine wore off.”
“When was he vaccinated compared to Ramey?”
Doc thought about for a second. “About fourteen months afterward.”
Wim felt his chest tighten and his mouth go dry. He struggled to get out words. “How long…”
“Does she have? I’d say your guess is as good as mine, but that would be untrue. I’d anticipated that we’d all need boosters every five years. Hal’s time ran out in less than three.”
The idea that there was still hope buoyed Wim’s spirits and he recovered, at least somewhat. His grip tightened on the rifle. “Then I’m going to bring her here and you’re going to give her the booster shot right now.”
Doc’s eyes blazed. “I will not.”
Wim clenched the rifle in his hands. “You will.”
“Let me rephrase that for you. I cannot. Because there is no booster. Not yet. I’ve been dabbling with one but…” He looked around the room, his face full of pride as he took in the monsters he made. “I’ve been rather distracted.”
Doc turned back to him. “So, Ramey’s life is in your hands, Wim. Proceed with your plan to leave the Ark, to run away and live as man and wife until one day, you wake up and your dearly beloved has become yet another flesh-eating ghoul… Or stay here with me. Keep the Ark safe and I’ll refocus on developing the booster. It’s your choice.”
“No, it’s not.”
Both men looked toward the corridor where Ramey stumbled down the tunnel, toward them.
Wim was too shocked at first to move. He saw the ragged wound on her face and wondered what had happened.
Doc saw it too, and to him the torn away section of flesh on her face looked oddly boot-shaped. His hand went to his own birthmark. “Ramey, I love the new addition. You’re becoming more and more like me with each passing hour.”
“I’m nothing like you, you sadistic asshole. I hope to God my mother was cheating on you and I’m not really your daughter.”
“Well, she was a bit of a whore.”
Ramey ignored him. “I hate you. I hate you and I’d rather die out there than ever have to see your face again.”
Wim could see her trembling. He’d never seen her so angry and it worried him.
“That’s why we’re getting the fuck out—”
Before she could finish, her body went limp. Wim caught her and stopped her from falling to the floor. He took a closer look at the wound, saw it was not a bite wound, and was able to breathe again. He lifted her limp body cradling her in his arms and held her tight against him.
He glared at Doc. “I want you to know, if she ever turns I’m coming back here and I will kill you.”
Doc held his hands up and faked trembling, mocking. “Ohhhh, I’m very scared. Why not just do it now, because her fate is predetermined. It would save you the return trip.”
One of Doc’s zombies, this one comprised of two different ethnicities, stumbled between them. Wim was glad he didn’t have to look at Doc’s face any more. He turned away and carried Ramey up the corridor.
Doc called after him. “Ta ta, William. Until next time…”
Wim didn’t look back.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Wim set Ramey on a snowmobile and climbed on behind her. She was slowly regaining consciousness but he held onto her tight with one arm while he steered with the other.
They sped through camp. It seemed like everyone was dead and that the zombies had taken over. He avoided all of them as he left camp. They passed the buildings that had been their poor excuse for a home for months, passed the box. Wim stopped when he reached the house trailer.
“Stay here,” he said to Ramey.
She was still groggy, but she understood and nodded. “Don’t keep me waiting long.”
“I won’t.”
Wim climbed off the snowmobile and up the steps into the trailer where the door had been left ajar. He scanned the tight quarters where he’d lived since June. It was a dump as far as homes went, but he had fond memories of his friends. Now they were both gone, albeit in different ways.
He moved to his bedroom and crossed to the nightstand. There he took the handkerchief Emory had given him the day he married them. Wim held it to his nose and could still smell the man’s aroma on it. He felt his eyes start to burn and hurriedly shoved it into his pocket. There wasn’t any time for that. Then he took a Polaroid photo Delphine had snapped of the four of them together. Even though she’d cut off the tops of his and Emory’s heads, and despite the events of the day, seeing it made him smile. He carefully tucked it into his shirt pocket.
He passed by the bathroom, stopping to grab a small first aid kit, then exited the trailer.
Ramey appeared more alert and smiled up at him. “Thought maybe you went in there to take a few of those plaid shirts. I know how attached you are to them.”
Wim grinned despite himself. “I thought you liked ‘em.”
“Not quite as much as you, big boy.”
He went to her and took her face in his hand. He examined the wound. The bleeding had stopped and it looked clean but he wasn’t taking any chances. She winced as he poured peroxide over it, but she was a tough girl and he loved that about her. In the wind, it dried fast and he covered the L-shaped cut with a 4x4 bandage.
He paused before he resumed his seat on the snowmobile.
“Is there anything you want to take with?”
Ramey grabbed his collar and pulled him into her. “Only you, Wim. You’re all I need.”
She kissed him. It was long and deep and made him forget about the day’s pain. She had a way of making everything better.
Ramey now sat behind him, holding his waist, as they drove out of camp and to the gate which still hung ajar. The snowmobile skidded down the little hill that led to the dock, but they avoided it and went straight onto the ice.
Chunks of snow bounced up as they rode and the cold wind prickled their faces but neither seemed to mind. They passed the gaping hole in the ice where Lonnie’s rig had disappeared and continued to shore. The road that dead-ended in the lake was empty. Saw and his truck were nowhere to be seen. All that remained were tire tracks in the snow.
Wim slowed to a stop when he reached the road. He dialed back the throttle so he could hear something other than the whine of the engine.
“Where should we go?” He asked her.
Ramey squeezed his chest through his coat. “To that little cabin you told me about the night you married me. The one in the mountains.”
“Well, it wasn’t a particular one.”
“I know. Any will do as long as there’s a porch with a view. Because you promised me sunsets and stars, remember?”
“Of course, I do.”
He gunned the engine and they drove on.
THE END
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Author’s Note
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
I’m amazed at the success of the “Life of the Dead” series and I hope you’ve enjoyed the first 3 books. I can never thank my readers enough for taking a chance on a new author and for investing your time into reading about the charac
ters and world I’ve created. It’s a dream come true and I’ll be forever grateful to you.
“The Ark” was a challenging book to write and took months longer than expected. At times, I wondered if it was ever going to come together. Even though I knew how it would end, getting there proved a challenge because the characters I love so much were put through such hardships. I wanted to make life easier on them, but I had to stay true to the story.
In the end, it was worth all the challenges. I’m so excited to share this book with fans of the series. And, I have some news.
Initially, I’d planned on 4 books for the series, but there’s going to be a novella that bridges the gap between books 3 and 4. That book, “I Kill the Dead” will be crazy fun and epically gory. And, I promise, it will be less emotionally taxing – for all of us!
I continue to be blown away that the books I wrote in rural Pennsylvania are now being read all over the globe. Again, thank you for taking a few hours out of your life to take a chance on this book and on me!
I love hearing from readers, it absolutely makes my day, so if you’d like to reach out, please visit my website or send me a friend request on Facebook. The links are:
http://www.tonyurbanauthor.com
http://Facebook.com/tonyurban
Tell me about your favorite characters, your favorite scenes, and what you think will happen next!
And Happy Reading!
About the Author
A professional photographer, writer and fan of general weirdness (both real and imagined), Tony has traveled tens of thousands of miles seeking out everything from haunted locations, UFO crash sites and monsters like Bigfoot and the Mothman. In a previous life, he worked in the independent movie industry but he finds his current career much more exciting.
Tony's first writing memory involves penning a short story about taking a road trip with his best friend and his dog (two different creatures) to watch KoKo B Ware in a professional wrestling event in Pittsburgh. He wrote that epic saga while in the 3rd grade and it was all downhill from there.
His first books were a series of offbeat travelogues but recently his zombie apocalypse series, "Life of the Dead" has been a bestseller online and grossed out readers all over the world.
His ultimate goal in life is to be killed by a monster thought by most to be imaginary. Sasquatch, werewolves, chupacabras, he’s not picky.
If that fails, he’d enjoy making a living as a full time writer. Which of those two scenarios is more likely is up to the readers to decide.
For more information:
tonyurbanauthor.com
[email protected]