Empty World: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Empty Bodies Book 7)

by Zach Bohannon

  “I’m sorry for asking. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, no, it’s okay.” Paul looked at Shell, trying to assure her with his smile that she hadn’t done anything wrong. “It’s just not exactly easy to keep track of, you know? But from her calculations, we should be at about thirty-six weeks. So, she could go into labor any day now.”

  “Wow. Congratulations. You guys must be really excited and anxious.”

  “Yeah.” Paul looked down. “If you want to call it that.” He immediately looked up and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s a really stressful time right now. Thank you. I’m excited, but also worried.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Our group’s been through a lot,” Keon said. “At one point, we were much bigger, but we’ve had our share of casualties along the way.”

  “I’d like to find a good home, not only to raise my child and keep my wife safe, but for everyone,” Paul said. “And I’d hoped to find it sooner. I don’t look forward to my wife giving birth in some rundown hotel or out on the damn road somewhere.”

  “You’ll find somewhere. I’m confident in that.” But there was little confidence in Shell’s voice as she thought of what her home and town looked like now with the gang raiding it.

  “We had a nice place,” Keon said. “But we lost it.”

  “A damn fine place,” Paul said.

  “What happened?” Shell had blurted out the question without thinking about it. She cursed herself. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Paul said.

  “It was going to come up eventually,” Keon said. “Probably best that it’s when just the two of us are around.”

  “It’s not a very complicated story anyway,” Paul said. “We had what we thought was a foolproof plan to keep the Demons out. All the right procedures, checks and balances at every position. But it turned out not to be good enough. Simply, a gate got left open, and it wasn’t caught during the switch of a graveyard shift. Before we knew it, the place was flooded with the creatures. We weren’t as prepared as we thought.”

  “Jesus,” Shell said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It happened,” Keon said. “And there’s nothing we can do about it. We lost a lot of people, though.”

  “Twenty-two,” Paul said, glancing at Keon and then at Shell. “Twenty-two people. And it could have been prevented.”

  Shell looked into Paul’s face even as he looked away. It was clearly difficult for him to talk about the incident. Enough so that Shell decided not to prod any further into what had happened.

  Keon put his arm out, urging Shell and Paul to stop. He put his finger to his lips as he crouched down in the tall grass. Shell followed his gaze to see a deer only twenty-five yards ahead.

  Staying low, they crept behind an abandoned car. With most of its rusted body intact, the three were hidden from the deer.

  Keon held his crossbow up in front of his face. He pulled out a bolt and loaded it.

  Shell grabbed his wrist. “I got this.”

  Keon’s eyebrows squeezed together. “What? No. I can hit it from here.”

  “I never said you couldn’t. But you gotta trust me, right? Besides, I’m pretty sure I owe you.”

  “Let her give it a shot,” Paul said.

  Without giving Keon another opportunity to protest, Shell moved into position next to the front of the car. She got on one knee as she nocked an arrow. Closing an eye, she aimed with the larger of the two deer in her sight. She drew a deep breath.

  “Aim true and vanquish the past. End the pains of a life once lost.”

  She exhaled.

  Fired.

  The arrow soared through the air, and her target screamed. The arrow had entered its neck and now protruded through the other side.

  The other deer took off. Shell’s target ran, as well, but it only took about a half-dozen steps before it fell onto its side.

  “Damn, that was one hell of a shot,” Paul said.

  “Told you she could shoot,” Keon said.

  Shell looked at him and tilted her head. “But you didn’t want me to try at this one?”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want you to try, but—”

  “I’m messing with you.” Shell hit him on the arm. “Let’s go take a look at it.”

  She was the first one to stand and jog over to the animal. Its eyes were wide but empty. Its side was still, not rising or falling. Blood came from the wound still, and she could see the arrowhead stained crimson.

  The two men approached from behind her and Keon whistled, impressed by what he saw.

  “You’re an even better shot than I thought.”

  “We even now?”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  “You two can figure all that out later,” Paul said, kneeling next to the animal. He pulled out a knife. “For now, let’s skin this thing and haul the meat back.”

  22

  Paul swung the sack of deer meat onto his other shoulder, shifting the weight. He felt the relief in the shoulder that had been carrying it and he sighed. His hands had cramped from holding onto the bag, the end twisted shut but not providing a good grip.

  “You all right over there?” Keon asked.

  “Of course,” Paul said. “Why?”

  Keon laughed. “You just look like you’re struggling a bit, that’s all.”

  “I’m fine.”

  They’d yielded what they estimated to be around fifty pounds of venison from the deer Shell had killed. Paul had split the meat between his and Keon’s large sacks. Though only twenty-five pounds rested in each sack, the sun beating down combined with hunger made the trek back to the hotel especially more difficult for Paul. But he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

  They crossed over the train tracks less than a block away from the King Edward. Paul saw three Demons lingering on the tracks, but they were fifty yards or so away and heading in the opposite direction, leaving them as no threat. It was more proof that there were plenty of the creatures around, and that they’d have to be extra careful through the rest of their time in Jackson.

  “I can’t wait to get this in my belly,” Keon said. “I’m so damn hungry.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you getting a little thick around the waist there, bud.” Paul winked at his friend, who flipped him off, and Shell laughed at both of them.

  They crossed over the train tracks and moved within a block of the back of the King Edward. Keon stopped suddenly.

  “What is it?” Paul asked.

  “Listen close. Do you hear that?”

  Several shouts came from near the hotel. Paul dropped the sack of venison and headed that direction in a sprint.

  “Paul, wait up!” Keon said.

  Paul ignored his friend. He ran down the side of the building as he heard the human voices getting louder. As he rounded the corner to the front of the building, he unsheathed his machete.

  He slowed his gait and came to a stop as he saw it was only people from his group outside. From what he could see, there were no Demons or bandits. People stood in a semi-circle watching a scene unfold.

  Through the cracks in the crowd, Paul saw the injured Dylan lumbering away from the building. Brooke followed him, trying to speak with him, but the drifter ignored her.

  Shell and Keon arrived behind Paul, Shell having picked up the other sack of meat.

  “What’s going on?” Keon asked.

  “Oh, crap,” Shell mumbled.

  “You really need to stay here for now,” Brooke said to Dylan. “You’re not ready to leave yet. Please, listen to me.”

  Dylan turned, standing up straight. He got within only a foot of Brooke and pointed his finger into her face.

  “You can’t fucking tell me what to do! Leave me the hell alone!”

  Paul balled his fist. A tingle raced up his arms and sweat arrived at his pores as his body temperature rose.

  “Shit,” Keon said from behind him. “Paul, hold up, dude.”
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  Paul stormed through the gathered crowd, never taking his narrowed eyes off of the long-haired drifter. Dylan made eye contact right before Paul grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and pushed him against a nearby wall. He raised the machete up to Dylan’s throat.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, you piece of shit, but nobody talks to my wife like that.”

  “Paul, stop,” Brooke said.

  A grin stretched across Dylan’s face. “Nah, man. That’s the thing; you don’t know who I am.”

  “You don’t know me, either. And if you don’t think I won’t shove this blade right through your God damned throat, then you—”

  “Let’s see it, Cowboy,” Dylan said.

  The response caught Paul by surprise. He tilted his head, looking into the drifter’s sharp blue eyes. The grin had gone from Dylan’s face, replaced by a serious but smug expression.

  “Don’t fucking test me. I’ll do it.”

  “Then do it.”

  “Dylan, enough of this,” Shell said.

  “Yeah, come on, Paul,” Keon said.

  A painful groan sounded behind Paul then, and the group gasped.

  “Brooke!” Katrina said.

  At the sound of his wife’s name, Paul looked back.

  Brooke had fallen to one knee and was clutching her stomach. Paul’s eyes went wide as he let go of Dylan and hurried to his wife.

  Katrina arrived before him, kneeling behind her and putting her arm around her. Paul dropped his machete and slid in next to her. He cupped her face, absorbing the sweat from her skin as she clenched her eyes shut.

  “Baby, what’s the matter?”

  Brooke opened her eyes and tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything. It was as if she couldn’t speak.

  “She needs space,” Katrina said, glancing around. “Everyone, back up. Go back inside, whatever. But just let us have this space.” She looked at Paul. “Go grab a pillow or something so we can lay her down.”

  Paul shot to his feet. He ran inside and grabbed the first pillow and blanket he saw, which had lain on the ground where someone had been resting in the lobby. A group of nearly a dozen people were still lingering when he arrived back outside, including Dylan.

  “You all heard Katrina,” he said. “Get out of here.”

  People scattered, and Paul put the pillow under his wife’s head. He looked up to see Dylan still standing near the wall. Shell stood next to him, and she’d put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on. Let’s go inside and talk.”

  Paul turned his narrowed eyes away from Dylan as he walked away with Shell. He ran his hand through his wife’s hair.

  “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  23

  Shell led Dylan to a large room near the lobby. She waited for the limping man to enter and then slammed the door behind them.

  “What the hell was that out there?” Shell asked.

  Dylan ignored her. He walked to a chair and sat down, finally turning around to face her. He still said nothing.

  “I’m serious. Why were you causing such a mess trying to leave?”

  “I told you I wasn’t staying here. Our deal was for me to get you and the boy here to Jackson.”

  “Yeah, but we agreed that you would at least stay until you were feeling better.”

  Dylan gestured with his hands to his legs. “I made it here, didn’t I?”

  Shell rolled her eyes. “And what if the boy and I wanted to continue traveling with you? Did you even stop to consider that?”

  Dylan narrowed his eyes and stood. “Let me tell you something, and you listen good. You’re not doing me any favors by traveling with me. I was doing just fine before you and the boy joined me. I helped you, not the other way around.”

  “Really? That’s how you look at it?”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your house. I really am. But understand two things. One is that you don’t owe me anything, even though you might think you do. The other is that I’m not staying here with these people. If you want to, that’s fine. But I’ve got places to be.”

  “And where is that exactly?”

  Dylan exhaled and he veered his eyes away from Shell.

  “Oh yeah,” Shell said. “I forgot. You’re headed ‘Southeast.’ Whatever that means.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it means.”

  Shell clenched her jaw. “Either way, you’re not ready to travel. You could barely make it into this room. That’s fine walking around this hotel, but if you run into a pack of Deads or a group of people who aren’t as nice as this one, then you’re going to be in trouble.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like out there. Don’t pretend that you do.”

  “Maybe I don’t. And I can’t control what you do. But I’m asking you to stay here until you’re closer to a hundred percent. Despite how you might feel, I’ve come to like you, and I don’t want you running out there and getting yourself killed.”

  Dylan exhaled. He glanced around the room, seeming to consider what Shell had said.

  “We brought a deer back,” Shell said. “Don’t tell me you can turn that down.”

  Looking at her, Dylan raised an eyebrow. Shell’s smile grew.

  “I thought that might entice you to stay a little longer.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.” Dylan ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll give my leg a couple of more days. Then, I’m gone.”

  “Fair enough,” Shell said. “But you’ve got to apologize to Paul.”

  Dylan’s brow creased. “Now you’re just pushing it.”

  Shell crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side.

  “Fine,” Dylan said with a sigh.

  “Good. Now that that’s settled, I’m gonna go see if they need help prepping my deer.”

  “Your deer?”

  Shell shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I shot it, after all.”

  Dylan snorted a laugh and shook his head. Shell smiled, enjoying the rare amusement coming from the drifter.

  “I told you I was a good shot with a bow.”

  “Yeah, I guess you are,” Dylan said. “I’m gonna go rest for a while.”

  “I’ll see you at dinner, then. You can wait until then to apologize to Paul.”

  Dylan raised his eyebrows as he walked past her.

  Shell walked over to the boy’s bed. He lay on his back, his right cheek against the pillow as he snored. Shell smiled as she watched him sleep. She still had so many questions about where the boy had come from but doubted they would ever get answered. As far as she could tell, the boy physically wasn’t able to speak.

  She ran her hand through his hair and said, “Hey.”

  The boy’s eyes opened, and he looked up at her.

  “Time for dinner. Are you hungry?”

  The boy nodded. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

  “There’s some food ready downstairs if you’re hungry.”

  The boy’s face lit up with a smile.

  Shell laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He stood up and they exited the room.

  The hallway was empty as they made their way down it and on to the stairs. As they got closer, Shell could hear chatter. Everyone had already gathered downstairs for dinner. Shell slid her hair from in front of her face, something she’d always done when she felt nervous. These people had been friendly to her, the boy, and Dylan so far, but she still didn’t know them all that well. Now she was heading to a social gathering with them. Considering how long she’d been on her own, it was a strange occurrence for her.

  They reached the main level of the hotel and followed the voices to an open room. The faded sign on the wall next to the door read Ryan Hartman Banquet Hall. Shell crossed the threshold.

  Around a dozen candles illuminated the space. A large table sat in the middle of the room which was big enough to sit all of the nearly twenty people in the group. There was a separate, smaller table where the three kids sat playing a
board game. Some of the adults stood and mingled, but most everyone had found a place at one of the tables and sat awaiting food.

  Keon had been talking to a woman at the side of the room when he turned and made eye contact with Shell. He smiled, said something to the woman, and then walked toward Shell.

  She smiled back, again swiping hair from her face with her clammy hand.

  “Nice to see you down here,” Keon said.

  “You kidding? You think I was going to miss out on that deer I singlehandedly shot?”

  Keon laughed. “You really gonna hold that over my head?”

  Shell shrugged, smiling again.

  “You know, I would have shot it if you would have given me a chance.”

  “But what’s it say about me that I so easily talked you into letting me do it?”

  Keon looked down and shook his head. Then he looked back up at Shell and his smile disappeared. The rest of the room went quiet.

  Shell turned around.

  Dylan had come limping into the room, his eyes looking at nothing or no one in particular. He then found Shell’s gaze.

  She wasn’t smiling anymore, either. Like everyone else, she was curious about what Dylan would do. Though everyone else in the room thought different, Shell didn’t know this man all that well. He was just some stranger who had, for Shell’s sake, been at the right place at the right time.

  His eyes looked away from Shell and she followed his gaze.

  Paul was standing now, his wife still seated in the chair next to him. He was staring at Dylan with anger in his eyes.

  Shell looked back at Dylan, who returned the same expression, focused right back at Paul. He made eye contact with Shell again and she shook her head.

  Don’t do this. Do what’s right.

  Dylan stared at Paul as he moved past Shell. The room remained silent as he walked up at Paul, stopping only a couple of feet away from him. Keon looked at Shell and shook his head, then stepped over next to Paul.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here after what you did earlier,” Paul said.

  “Come on, man,” Keon said, putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down and eat.”