Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts

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Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts Page 15

by Long, Timothy W.

Roz stood as he made for the door and said something close to his ear. Joel shot her a quick smile and whispered something back. I looked at Joel but his face didn’t betray anything. Whatever those two were up to wasn’t my business.

  It was time to get to work.

  ###

  13:30 hours approximate

  Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

  We set out on patrol, leaving the confines of the little trailer park. We ranged a mile out and then circled around, avoiding the highway and its dangers. We found a small town, much like Clairemont, but without map or GPS we couldn’t determine the name.

  A pack of Z’s wandered the streets. We perched behind a bunch of shrubs and waited them out. Neither of us moved until the group was well away from us, then we rose and hustled to a shattered storefront. The shelves were bare of anything useful, so we exited through the back door.

  We passed a pair of bodies. Both had been placed on the ground with the back of their heads caved in. A crow bar lay next to them, the curved end covered in blood and matted hair. It was possible that the pair had been Z’s, but I suspected they’d instead been shop owners and had put up a fight when looters arrived.

  Joel considered the bodies but didn’t say a word.

  “What’s up with your tactical gear?” I asked.

  “I added plates after our last encounter. Getting shot at wasn’t my idea of a good time.”

  “Plates?”

  “Ceramic. They’re light, but break up if a round hits them.”

  “Where in the hell did you find plates?”

  “Did some digging around in the supplies in the camp. They have a communal drop off for goods. Turns out someone’s kid was in the military and saw action. These were packed away in a box. They aren’t a perfect fit but I made them work.”

  “What about me, Joel? Shouldn’t I wear something like that?” I asked.

  “Sure, man. If you can find them.”

  “Well, shit. What’s the alternative?” Joel had worn his IMTV tactical gear since we’d been on the USS McClusky. I’d worn one messy bunch of clothes after another.

  “Don’t get shot.” Joel winked at me.

  We moved to another storefront and found it empty save for bodies. In this case it was easy to make out the features of the dead. They’d been Z’s, but now they were just moldering corpses.

  Another horde wandered in our direction so we took care to stay hidden. A shot rang out from somewhere and one of the Z’s dropped. Joel and I ducked behind a countertop and watched.

  The men came into the streets from the north. They were dressed in leather and carried bottles of alcohol. They bore automatic weapons and seemed to take great pleasure in gunning down the horde.

  One of the men stepped out of a building and I knew him right away. It was McQuinn.

  “Son of a bitch,” I whispered to Joel.

  He nodded but didn’t do anything stupid. If I had his gun I probably would have picked McQuinn off—or at least tried to. I was under no delusions that I could even hit the building, let alone a single figure.

  “I hope he doesn’t find the camp. Dammit. We should warn our new friends,” Joel said.

  “They aren’t exactly hidden. If McQuinn’s men do any further exploring, they’re likely to find the camp.”

  Joel chewed on that for a minute and then moved. He kept low, peeked out of the back, and gestured. I followed him across a street and we slipped into the woods.

  ###

  14:45 hours approximate

  Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

  Arguing with Claude was useless. We tried to impress on him the fact that McQuinn was a threat.

  “But what can we do except to hide? If we leave they may hear the noise of the campers,” he said. I’d noticed that when Claude spoke in a rush, his speech took on a thicker accent.

  “You got no choice, man,” I said.

  “We do have a choice. Besides, we are reasonable people. Maybe they will be reasonable with us.”

  “That shit didn’t work out too well for us,” Joel said.

  Claude shrugged and left us. He moved back to his RV and shut the door quietly behind him.

  “We should pack it in.”

  “Yeah. I’m down with that. Been thinking about that abandoned RV back there. No one investigated because they thought there was a Z inside.” Joel pointed toward the back of the camp. The vehicle would have looked old a decade ago.

  “What about it?”

  “Could be it’s full of food. If we don’t check it out before we go, we might regret it later.”

  “Ah hell, Joel. I hate it when you make sense.”

  “So you’re going to go with me?”

  “Just because I don’t want to get shot at anymore doesn’t mean I want to be a fucking Marine with you and your pals at Pendleton,” I said.

  “Yeah, but think how great it would be, man. Going from squid to badass.”

  “Because that’s what I want out of life,” I said sarcastically.

  “Yer goddamn right,” Joel said. He clapped me on the shoulder and moved out.

  I stood in the drizzling rain for all of a half-minute before sighing loudly and following. Quick check, get any goods, and then haul ass out of here. I was game.

  ###

  14:55 hours approximate

  Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

  We slipped out of the RV and did a quick perimeter sweep. A pair of Z’s were wandering by. When they got wind of us, they lurched toward the chain link fence.

  “Come on. They’ll leave in a few minutes if we pull a disappearing act. Damn things aren’t too bright,” Joel said.

  We ducked behind the truck/camper that Anna and I were calling home and waited them out.

  “So you and Roz, huh?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  We crouched in silence for a minute.

  “So you and Anna, huh?” Joel asked. I wondered when he’d get around to giving me shit.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “Hey man, I’m glad you made it back, but we’ve complicated things. Women,” Joel said.

  “It’s not that complicated to me. I like Anna and she seems to like me.”

  “Yeah, but it makes us weak as a unit. We’re likely to do stupid shit if they get in trouble.”

  “Joel. If you’re out with a bunch of Marines, doing Marine shit, do you ignore your buddy if he gets in trouble? What if he’s hit? Do you abandon him?”

  Joel snuck a look at the Z’s.

  “That’s not the same,” he said.

  “Not the same because your buddy doesn’t have tits?”

  “That’s different. We work as a unit.”

  “And we don’t?”

  Joel chewed on his gum.

  “They ain’t leaving,” Joel said and nodded toward the pair of Z’s.

  I gave up on trying to talk sense into him.

  “We could flank them and take them from behind,” I said.

  “You’d like taking a couple of Z’s from behind. That way you don’t have to smell their rot breath.”

  “That’s not what your mom said last week,”

  “Low blow, brother. I ain’t talked to my mom in a long while,” Joel said.

  “Ah shit, man. I’m sorry. I was just fucking around.”

  “I know. It’s cool. We’re tight, right?”

  “Tight as a nut on a six-fifty-five valve.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tight on my nut.”

  I snorted out a half laugh.

  “We could go out and take them, but I’d rather not risk it. For all we know, the woods could be filled with Z’s. Last night I went out there and heard a lot of movement. Besides, McQuinn is nearby. Best we be gettin’ on.”

  We moved, low, toward a pair of abandoned RV’s on the outskirts of the camp. They were in the corner of the fenced-in camp.

  “You haven’t checked these out yet?”


  “Nah. Claude usually leads a group around but these were ignored because there’re too far back. Plus, Claude thought he heard something in the older one and worried it was occupied.”

  “Occupied by something with a pulse?”

  Joel shrugged and sprinted toward one of them. The gravel covered road was hard under my feet, and even though my leg was feeling like I could put pressure on it for a change, the running hurt. I sucked it up and followed.

  “Where’d that come from?” I pointed at an ambulance.

  “They found it abandoned a half-mile from here and drove it back to the camp.”

  “Claude did?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Anything else in the truck? Damn, man. That should be filled with medical stuff.”

  “It was already cleaned out when they found it.”

  “Not even a bottle of Percocet?”

  Joel snorted.

  To our right sat our goal. The pair of vehicles were older and hauled by trucks. I checked the first vehicle by peering into the windows; there didn’t seem to be anyone inside. I tried the door but it was locked. I could break the window with the wrench, but it seemed a shame to go around bashing in a perfectly good truck. If we found the keys inside we might be able to make use of it.

  The RV itself looked like it had been built in the seventies. It was brown with one large white stripe running down the center of the body. Dirt clung to the sides, doing its best to cover up all the dings and dents.

  Joel moved next to the RV’s door and rapped lightly.

  I moved to the other side of the door and waited for his lead.

  He tried the door handle and found that it was locked. I pressed the side of my head to the RV and listened. After a half-minute I hadn’t heard anything moving, so I shook my head at Joel.

  “Guess we do it the hard way,” Joel said.

  He put his AR-15 next to the door and then pulled his knife. The blade was dented in a few places, but I’d seen him use the knife on a number of doors and it always managed to hold up to the task.

  “Breaking and entering. Just like old times,” I said.

  Joel jammed the blade into the doorframe and tapped it a few times then ripped it to the side. The door lock popped and it was go time. I moved back to cover Joel while he grabbed his rifle and poked it into the darkness.

  “Yo,” he called through the doorway.

  We waited for the count of fifteen.

  Joel switched on his tactical light and moved up the first step. I followed his lead.

  The smell was bad. The tiny space reeked of refuse and rot, but there was something worse hiding in the stench. I knew that smell all too well. A body didn’t take well to being half-devoured and then left lying around. The problem with Z’s was that they were still ambulatory, even as the damn things continued to rot and degenerate.

  The interior looked like a tornado had hit. Cups, silverware, and plates were scattered over the floor along with several bags of trash. A suitcase had been ripped open so hard the top hung on by threads. Blood was splattered on the walls and floor.

  Joel poked around and found a body lying next to the bed. He toed it and the hand twitched. The Z was a mess. Most of her face was gone and one of her arms was bent under her body. From the weird angle I guessed it had been practically ripped out of the socket. Her neck had been partially severed, and that left a lot of blood, most of which had soaked into blankets scattered next to her. A large kitchen knife lay next to her body.

  “Jesus,” Joel whispered.

  “How’d that happen?”

  “She tried to kill herself. Look at the wound.”

  “I’ve seen enough. Let’s just do her,” I said.

  Something thumped.

  My blood ran cold as I tried to take in the entire interior. Where had the noise come from?

  Joel flashed his tactical light around the space. I lifted the wrench, ready to bash anything that leaped out at us.

  Joel motioned toward the bathroom door. It was closed but it bucked as it was hit again.

  “Fuck. Shoot first, man,” I whispered.

  Joel put his finger to his lip.

  He moved to one side and motioned toward my wrench. I moved to the other side of the door and lifted it as high as my head. Any higher and it would hit the ceiling. Joel shone his light at the floor. I grimaced because a puddle of blood had seeped out from under the closed door.

  Joel reached for the door and triggered the lock.

  The door swung open on silent hinges. Joel moved back, gun aimed at the interior.

  I didn’t even get a chance to swing.

  The Z was small, smaller even than Christy. It jumped off of a partially devoured body and hit the kitchen counter. I swung wildly because the monstrosity had scared the f’ing shit out of me.

  I caught its leg as it tried to scurry toward the front of the RV, but it ripped free with astonishing strength.

  Joel followed it, his light playing over the small body.

  “Shoot that thing,” I said.

  “Too noisy. And look how small it is.” He slung he gun around his shoulder and tugged out his big blade again.

  “Shuffler,” I said.

  “Can’t be.”

  Joel was wrong.

  Had to be a kid, but that wasn’t what horrified me. The little form was a shuffler and it was fast. Too fast.

  With a howl it leap-frogged from behind the passenger seat, landing on me in two hops. I swung up but he hit me low. The little bastard was covered in gore and his hair was matted against his head with blood.

  I tried to step back and my weakened ankle picked that moment to give. I fell, rapping my elbow against the linoleum floor, sending a wave of pain up my arm. Joel moved in and slashed at the little shuffler, but it was too fast. The kid hit a wall like he was some kind of ninja and then was on the floor behind my Marine buddy.

  I rolled to the side and tried to heave myself up. Something touched my arm and I recoiled in horror. The corpse in the bathroom was still moving. A goddamn Z. The kid had been eating a Z! I wanted to scream in horror but I didn’t get the chance.

  I’d had the bad fortune to land on my right arm, so I shifted the wrench to my left. I was strapped with the Colt .45, but in the tiny space I was afraid I’d miss and maybe hit Joel.

  The shuffler lived up to its name by shooting forward on all fours. Joel abandoned swinging with the knife and kicked the kid. He didn’t get his whole boot into it, but the shuffler was smashed against the wall. He rolled over and stared at us from a few feet away, and his head turned quizzically from side to side.

  His mouth was a horror of broken teeth and torn lips. His nose had been smashed at some point and was a purple knob. But that wasn’t the worst of it. As the little fucker prepared to leap again, his mouth opened up and a hiss came out.

  “Diiieeee.”

  My wrench caught him across the shoulder as he jumped. The little form hit the wall again and collapsed against the floor. Joel didn’t wait. He moved on the shuffler and crouched down to lock his knee over the kid’s throat.

  The shuffler thrashed under him but Joel had at least a hundred and twenty pounds on the kid.

  “Did that fucking thing talk?” I asked in shock.

  “I don’t know,” Joel said and put his knife next to the boy’s temple.

  The shuffler settled down and glared at us.

  His eyes weren’t the milky white we’d come to expect. They were probably brown at one time, but now they were so bloodshot they looked like they were covered with little red spider webs. But there was something else back there, some hint of color that was unnatural.

  “Joel. Look at his eyes.”

  “What?” Joel looked up at me.

  “His eyes. Am I seeing things?”

  Joel stared hard then he jolted upright.

  “The fuck?”

  “Green? I swear I’ve seen the same glow in other shufflers, but I let it go as a trick of my imaginat
ion.”

  “What are you?” Joel asked.

  The shuffler gritted his teeth together and bubbled blood. His chest rose and fell.

  “He’s breathing.”

  “This shit isn’t real. Every one of the damn Z’s we’ve seen are animated corpses. This thing is something else. We should bag him.”

  “With what?” I asked.

  The bed had the pillow and blanket but both were splattered with blood that had dried into obscene patterns.

  “Maybe we can wrap him in something,” Joel said.

  “Yeah, we’ll put a leash around his neck and stick him in a box. On weekends you get to walk him.” I was done with this thing. He’d already knocked me on my ass once. I was ready to put him down.

  The kid had been still for a few seconds, but launched a surprise attack. His hands whipped up and struck at Joel, but they hit the tactical armor and I doubted Joel even felt it. Then the little shuffler grabbed Joel’s leg and used his body as a lever to twist Joel to the side.

  The kid fought like a demon and managed to get loose. I reached for him and caught his pant leg but he kicked free and was out the door before I could draw my gun.

  Joel and I rushed to the entrance. He skipped the stairs, but I had to hobble down them like an old man. The shuffler leapt across the ground like a frog until he reached the little pond. He splashed into the center, like he was giving us a big “Fuck You,” and then leaned his head back and howled.

  The sound rolled across the camp. Joel raised his rifle and rushed toward the shuffler. I couldn’t run so I dragged my handgun out, ready to shoot the little bastard.

  “Don’t shoot! That’s the water supply!” Joel yelled back at me.

  The Shuffler went quiet for a few seconds and then howled again.

  Faces appeared in windows and doors opened. The shuffler splashed around up to his waist and then howled a third time.

  Anna and Roz ran toward our location. Anna stopped long enough to pull her gun, then she was on the move again.

  “No, Anna!” I called out.

  Anna shook her head and pointed toward the back of the camp.

  I looked toward the rear fence surrounding the park and gasped in horror.

 

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