Broken glass crunched nearby, and Chris choked up on his bat. The shambling sack of skin and bones he had been watching for the past few minutes rounded the far end of a rusted-out pickup truck and stepped within range. The zombie stopped, turning its head in a slow arc until its gaze settled on Chris. Like a dog sensing a treat, the zombie broke into a shuffling run.
With two quick steps, Chris met the monster halfway. His bat made a soft whistling sound as it sliced through the humid air on its short trajectory to the zombie’s head. With a wet pop, the monster’s skull crumpled under the impact, and the creature sank to the ground, all traces of life after death vanquished for good. As a final measure, Chris jammed the tip of his bat into the head, sending jets of tar-black brain matter squirting across the concrete in an obscene Rorschach pattern.
Luke and Dr. Cain ran up and skidded to a stop beside him. The doctor gave the newly dispatched corpse a wide berth.
“Good kill,” Luke said, grinning.
Chris nodded. “Thanks.” That was his first kill with his new bat, the replacement for the battle-scarred Louisville Slugger he had abandoned on the MK Excelsior. He eyed the nearly-unblemished aluminum, visualizing the satisfaction of recording the kill with a scratch in the handle when he returned to the Gulf Star. “You guys ready?” he asked.
Cain and Luke nodded.
Squinting, Chris surveyed the street, scanning for any zombies he may have missed. He didn’t spot any immediate threats, but as with any incursion into occupied territory, looks could be deceiving, often fatally so. “We’re close,” he whispered. “Keep your eyes and ears open.” He took a step, and stopped and held up his hand.
In all the years since Chris had first fled to the safety of the Gulf Star, only twice had a shore party ventured as far inland as they were at the moment. The first excursion, led by Chris, had gone off without a hitch, and they had returning to the Gulf Star a day later with a priceless cache of spare parts for the diesel generators. The second expedition had been a different story. Organized and led by a man named Michael Carlson, the party had set out to investigate a mysterious distress beacon that had been broadcasting periodically for several months. Michael and his team of four heavily armed explorers never returned. The only clue to their fate was a cryptic radio transmission in which a woman repeatedly mumbled, “League City.” There hadn’t been any women in the expedition team. League City was a suburb sandwiched between Houston and Galveston, well inside the dead zone, and completely off limits as far as Hines was concerned. The emergency beacon still broadcast its signal, running for a few days at a time before vanishing from the airwaves for months and then returning. After the disaster with Carlson’s group, though, no one had any appetite for another suicide mission, and Hines had indefinitely shelved plans for further investigation.
“What are we waiting for?” Dr. Cain asked nervously.
“Hold on,” Chris whispered. He had a bad feeling he was missing something. “We’re not done yet.”
As if to prove his point, another undead, a female, shambled into view, stumbling and tripping from the mouth of an alley only a few dozen yards from where they were standing. The tattered remains of a sundress hung from the woman’s frame, displaying the shriveled and rotted remains of her formerly voluptuous body for all to see. A machete identical to the blade hanging in Chris’s garage back in Houston protruded from the zombie’s shoulder. The blade was thick with rust, and Chris suspected it had been buried in the zombie’s flesh since the initial days of the uprising, the result of someone’s failed attempt at fending off the zombie. Chris felt a fleeting twinge of sadness as he regarded the monster, imagining the last few moments of the poor soul who had so valiantly hacked away at the thing—possibly a sister or mother or neighbor—not yet knowing that the only way to kill the creatures was to destroy their heads.
“Do you want this one?” he asked Luke.
Luke tightened his grip on the fire axe he held clutched to his chest and shook his head. “No. That’s okay. She’s all yours.”
“You sure?”
Luke nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get the next one.”
Chris regarded Luke for a moment. Normally, the teen was eager to dispatch the undead, but something in his demeanor had changed. Then it came to him: the baby.
“No problem,” Chris said. He gestured at the street behind them. “Watch our backs.” Then he stepped into the open. “Here, girl,” he said, taking a step toward the zombie and slapping his bat lightly against his open palm. “Here, girl.”
Whatever passed for a brain in the creature instantly made the determination that Chris was food, and the zombie set off in his direction, moving at a fast shuffle.
As soon as the thing came into range, Chris grabbed the handle of the machete and used the big knife to keep the creature at arm’s distance. The zombie reached for him, its rotten fingers clawing at the air but unable to bridge the gap. With muffled grunt, Chris swung his baseball bat against the creature’s head with enough force to knock the rotted skull clear off the neck. The decapitated head rolled away and came to rest beside a jumbled pile of hurricane flotsam.
Chris released his hold on the machete, and the zombie’s body crumpled to the ground. “Okay. Now we can go.”
They arrived at the laboratory a few minutes later.
“I was afraid of this,” Dr. Cain said glumly, staring at the thick steel security shutters blanketing the windows and doors of the first floor of the imposing building. “How the hell are we going to get through this?”
“You could have said something,” Chris grumbled, pacing and searching the building for any sign of a way inside. There were no fire escapes, no ledges, not even a tree they could use to reach the plate glass windows fifteen feet over their heads. “I would have brought tools for this.”
“On the positive side,” Cain said, “if they evacuated early on, it may make our job easier once we get inside. No zombies. Or very few.”
“Fat lot of good that does us now,” Chris said. He pointed at the nearest corner of the building. “Keep an eye out. I’m going to go over there and see if there’s anything we can use.”
Luke grabbed Chris’s arm. “Wait. I’ve got an idea.”
Luke went to the nearest security shutter and rapped on it with his knuckles. “This stuff is too thick to go through.” He slipped his thin fingers into a narrow seam and fit the edge of his right boot on a horizontal bar. Like a spider, he quickly scaled the shutters. The metal rattled and groaned under his weight. When he was about six feet off the ground, he pushed off and landed on his feet in front of them. “No problem.”
Chris stared at Luke as if he had just walked on water. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” As hard as he stared, he couldn’t tell what Luke had been using to balance himself on the sheer wall of steel.
Luke gave a proud grin. “My dad was hell-bent on me choosing a sport when I was a kid. I hated football and soccer. Wrestling was my other option. Fuck that. Climbing let me make my own schedule, plus I didn’t have to wear any kind of stupid uniform. It’s been a while, but I still know what I’m doing on a wall.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Cain asked.
Luke grinned. “Of course not, but do you know of a better way in?”
“Just asking,” Cain said. “Old habits die hard.”
“Okay,” Chris said, shrugging off his backpack. “Let’s do it.” Opening his pack, he pulled out a narrow coil of yellow and blue nylon rope and passed it to Luke.
Luke looped the rope over his shoulder. “I’ll bust out a window, and we’ll be inside in a minute.”
“Just be quiet,” Cain said, gazing around the deserted street.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Very quiet.”
Luke patted the rope. “Don’t worry. This is easy.” Then he turned and fit his fingers into the gaps of the shutter and began climbing to the windows beckoning from above.
Thirty-one
Isla Perpetua
Ei
ght Days Later
On her knees in the dirt, Megan waited anxiously as Purdue slowly worked his way down the line toward her. Nick and another armed soldier loitered a few feet behind their boss, automatic rifles trained on the crowd.
She tensed when Purdue stopped in front of Roman, immediately to her left. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Roman tilt his head back, close his eyes, and open his mouth. With a serene, almost comical reverence, Purdue gently placed a scrap of zombie flesh on the old man’s tongue then touched his fingers to Roman’s forehead. The old man closed his mouth and made a point of swallowing.
Megan was next.
Purdue shuffled in front of her. She wanted to turn away but instead forced herself to maintain her forward-facing gaze. To do otherwise, Roman had cautioned her, was to invite Purdue’s wrath. She stared into the eyes of the man who owned her destiny. Fat red blood vessels crisscrossed the whites of his eyes, a roadmap of his insanity. His pupils, completely dilated, were black pits of unimaginable depths. Bracing herself, Megan closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue.
To her right, someone coughed. Palm trees rustled in the breeze. A faint tickle electrified her tongue as Purdue delivered his communion offering. Keeping her eyes shut as instructed, Megan closed her mouth and swallowed. A blinding wave of pure pleasure tore through her body as the zombie flesh worked its way down her gullet. Her eyes flew open in shock.
Purdue smiled and brushed her forehead with his fingertips. He mumbled a few words that made sense only to him then moved on.
Already, the electric sensation was ebbing, yet the world around her somehow seemed more vibrant, the colors richer, the air sweeter. Megan drew a deep breath, feeling each individual molecule of oxygen as it worked its way into her lungs.
She had survived her first feeding.
***
Megan watched as Roman led Sienna to the chair beside her bed and guided her to a sitting position. He pulled over his own chair and sat in front of her. Taking her face in his hands, he stared into her eyes and spoke softly to her.
“What do you think he’s saying?” she asked Jack.
Jack shrugged. “Who knows?”
Megan shifted her gaze back to the old man and the girl. “I tried to talk to her yesterday.”
“You what?”
She put a finger to her lips. “Shh. I did it when he was outside. I know what he said, that she’s liable to flip out, but she sat there like a statue. Like I didn’t exist.”
“Shit! What if he finds out?”
“Don’t worry. He won’t. Anyway, I don’t think it matters, anyway. He’s just being protective of her.”
“Maybe.” Jack rubbed his chin. “I’m still not sure I trust him all the way. I don’t think he’s telling us everything.”
“I do.” Megan said. “He’s just an old man trying to hold on. I think you’re right about him holding back, though. I think he knows a way off this island.”
Jack turned toward her. “Why do you say that?”
“You’ve heard him talk,” she said, gesturing discreetly in Roman’s direction. “He knows everyone. Someone must have left this place, or at least tried.”
Jack gave her a skeptical frown. “What about the feeding?”
Megan set her mouth in a firm line. “There’s gotta be a way. We’ll take the damned zombie with us if we have to.”
Roman left Sienna and came over to them.
Megan asked, “Do you have a minute to talk?” She pointed at the rear door. “In private.”
Roman glanced in Sienna’s direction before nodding. “Sure.”
Megan led Roman and Jack through the maze of cots until they exited the rear door into the bright afternoon sunlight. An open expanse of dirt fifty yards wide separated the rear of the building from the edge of the jungle.
Megan checked for people and, finding none, said, “This is good.”
“What is it?” Roman asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Megan looked at Jack, who gave her a faint nod of encouragement.
“We need your help,” she told Roman. “We want to get back to our people. We need to get off the island.”
Roman chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.”
“We’re serious,” Jack said. “Now that we’ve had time to recover, we need to get the hell out of here.”
“I’m sure you think that, but like I told you before, you’ve fed. If you try to leave now, you’ll turn. You’ll die.”
Megan thought for a second. “Okay. What about Purdue?”
“What about him?”
“Can we get close to him?”
Roman threw his head back and laughed. “What? You think can walk into his compound and put a bullet in his head? Good luck. He may be a crazy son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid. In fact, he’s one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. You try, and you’ll find yourself in the stadium, being ripped limb from limb.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “What do you mean ‘one of the smartest men you’ve ever met’? Is there something you aren’t telling us?”
Roman sobered. “Not really. Sort of. Only that Purdue and I go back a long way. We came here on the same boat. We fought side by side, taking this place from the people who were here before us. Before he lost his mind.”
“What do you mean?” Megan asked.
Roman shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a long story.”
Megan put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Tell us. What the hell happened here?”
Roman’s face turned red, and his eyes became pinpoints of fury. “That zombie bitch is what happened.”
Megan cocked her head. “I’m not following.”
Roman looked over his shoulder, through the open door at Sienna. “I’ll tell you what. Meet me out front tomorrow morning. Before sunrise. I’ll show you what I’m talking about and let you make up your own minds.”
“Why not now?” Megan asked.
Roman tapped his bare wrist. “Because I’ve got a few things to deal with first.”
Megan opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Roman turned and ducked back inside the building.
“God damn it!” she said, taking a step toward the door.
Jack grabbed her arm. “Megan, give him room.”
Megan shook loose from Jack’s grip then sighed. “Okay. Okay.”
Thirty-two
Galveston, Texas
Chris and Luke followed Cain on a circuitous route through the abandoned hallways and rooms of the lab, collecting various small supplies the doctor pointed out, until they reached a large room filled with rack upon rack of gleaming medical equipment. Just as Cain had hoped, the shutters covering the ground floor had kept out the undead. Aside from a few birds who had gained entrance through broken windows and the unmistakable evidence of a healthy rodent and insect population, no one else had been inside the laboratory since the end days.
The sterile order of the place, the absolute lack of human presence over the years, hammered home to Chris just how far they had fallen since the end of the world. Everywhere he looked, he imagined that if he closed his eyes, he could open them again to find people going about their daily business. He had never believed in ghosts, but he couldn’t shake the sensation of treading on hallowed ground.
“That’s it,” Dr. Cain said, casting his flashlight beam over a metal container about the size of two shoe boxes. “That’s the centrifuge.” The machine sat on the end of a bench by itself, asset tag still attached. “This is the last piece.”
Luke reached for the box and tried to pick it up. He groaned with the effort. “What’s this thing made of? Lead?”
Cain stepped to his side and tried to lift it. “This is heavier than I thought it would be. It’s going to take both of us to carry it.”
Chris shifted the bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. The contents clanked. With a frown, he asked, “And you’re sure this i
s everything?”
Cain nodded. “Yes.”
“In that case,” Chris said, “let’s just hope we don’t run into any company on the way back to the boat.”
Luke and Cain bundled the centrifuge into a duffel bag lined with rags to cushion the delicate equipment. They gave it a test heft when they were done.
“It’s not too bad,” Luke said. “With both of us. We can do this.”
Chris led the way back through the abandoned building to the window where they had entered. Their rope, attached to a floor-to-ceiling concrete pillar, snaked across the floor and through where the window used to be.
Cautiously, Chris approached the edge. “Oh shit!” He took a quick step back and put his hand to his mouth. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.
“What’s wrong?” Dr. Cain asked, his voice rising in alarm.
Chris spat out a string of curses as he shrugged the heavy bag off his shoulder and gently lowered it to the floor. “We’ve got a bunch of rotters outside, and more coming.”
Luke and Dr. Cain set the centrifuge on the floor and went to the window to peer out. The color drained from Cain’s face, and he backed away from the opening, trembling.
Chris surveyed the street, counting at least a dozen zombies in close proximity, and twice that number arriving in the next minute or two. He couldn’t understand where they had come from as, aside from the two he had killed, the street had been empty when they had entered the building.
“Is there another way out?” Cain asked.
Chris shook his head. “Nope. We can’t get out through the bottom without raising the shutters. By the time we do that, they’ll be on top of us.”
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