Dext of the Dead (Book 5): We Are The End

by Kuhn, Steve

  They’ve been waiting in silence for their salvation while I continue to wait for an entirely different end altogether. I’ve said my good-byes now, and these will be the last words I write.

  Entry 164

  The cavalry came.

  I initially thought the day was coming to a close as the sky began to darken and the sun found itself blacked out. The darkness crept across the landscape miles below us, spreading like a spilled glass of water.

  Kylee looked to the east, and her lips parted. “Oh, God. What is that?”

  I squinted to make it out as a familiar sound worked its way into my ears. It was heavy and loud, but soothing just the same because I recognized it immediately. It was music—a song playing on a loop over and over again, a song I knew well.

  An old metal tune called “Raining Blood,” courtesy of Slayer.

  Hicks raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare, and he muttered in disbelief, “Holy… fucking… shitballs…”

  The music was getting louder now, pounding into my chest as I spotted a single vehicle in the distance—a huge flatbed truck, spurting dust behind it as it sped towards Fort Bragg. It was loaded with enormous loudspeakers and blasting the sounds as a call to battle. To the rear of the truck, the sky was filled with birds, black as night, as far as the eye could see. And below it, blurred by the dust from the truck leading them and the flies that swirled around their putrid heads, was an army of the dead—a quarter million of them mindlessly following the loud music that blasted from homemade speakers. As they grew closer, their moans threatened to drown out everything on earth.

  The Pied Piper had arrived.

  The men of Bragg could be seen rushing around like ants and firing uselessly into the horde that was bearing down on them, so wide and so thick that escape was virtually impossible. Two figures tumbled from the truck and rolled across the dirt, running in our general direction as rounds smacked the ground and puffed dirt around their feet. They ran with every ounce of speed they had to reach the steep hillside, leaving behind the dead, who now paid them no mind because the music continued to blast. The gunfire that was being laid down only helped them make their way as the two hundred fifty thousand bernies fell upon the colonel’s compound, eager to feed.

  The mines exploded at the feet of the horde, and the Abrams fired feebly into their numbers. Neither could even make a dent. They flooded past the gates and toppled what was left of the fence as they began to feed. Even all the way up here, we could hear them scream as they were torn apart one by one. As the herd halted, having now found the warm flesh they had trekked all this way to feast upon, so did the birds. Like a storm cloud overhead, they cast their morbid shadow solely on Fort Bragg—the shadow of death.

  Seth and Nick, along with Hicks, aided the two strangers in their climb to the top of our peak, and once there, Hicks asked, “Just who the hell are you?”

  Lilly pushed past them and trilled, “Murphy! Alyse! You guys made it!”

  It still feels like a dream. Murphy beamed at us and said, “Sometimes you gotta think outside the box, ain’t that right, Sally?”

  I had noticed Alyse looking around curiously as she took mental notes of who was and wasn’t here with us. She gave me a silent look of hope as if to ask if Hook was all right. I shook my head at her solemnly and watched the tears fill her eyes.

  Murphy gingerly hugged Kylee and knelt by my side. “Sorry it took so long, kid. You wouldn’t believe the shit we’ve been through.”

  I was happy just to be able to say good-bye to them.

  Kylee filled Murphy in on her wound and my impending end, after which we had some final words. He said that a chopper, a big one, was on its way to scoop them all up.

  That makes me happy. They’ll be safe now, except me, of course. I think I’ll just watch one last sunset over the ocean. It’s beautiful, ya know. After that… well… Kylee will click my teeth for me one last time.

  – Dext

  Entry 165

  We watched the sunset, Dext and I. The others left us alone, and I’m grateful for that. He held my hand and spoke of our time together. It was enough to make me forget about the pain. It was enough to make me forget the world.

  He was special, you know. I’ve known a lot of men throughout my life, especially with my upbringing, but there’s only ever been one man like Dext.

  I watched him write in this book every day from the first time I met him. I always wondered what kinds of things he scribbled in here. Now, as I page through it, I feel sorry for you. You read his words and see the things that we’ve gone through. You think you know him, but you don’t. You don’t have a clue.

  The man I knew said a lot more than he put on these pages. He recorded our events and told you the story as accurately as he possibly could, but he always sold himself short. He always doubted himself, and he never gave himself the credit he deserved. Dext didn’t survive because of us. He may have said otherwise, but I know he would’ve been fine. The truth is that I survived because of him.

  It’s my fault. It’s all my fault that this happened.

  No one can fathom how deeply my feelings for him go, and you’ll never know how truly sorry I am. I just didn’t know. I didn’t know I was a carrier. What I do know is that I can’t take it back, and I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life.

  His last wish was that I tell his story to the end—the real end, that is. So, that’s why I’m writing this now as we await our ride out of here.

  Dext remained committed to our survival even in death, and although he turned, he somehow kept his promise to me. The last thing he said to me before he drew his last breath was that he was going to try not to turn. He also told me that if he did turn, he was going to try not to be like the others.

  Dext was never like the others. I think you people know this by now.

  His breathing stopped, and I kissed his forehead one last time. I gave him a chance to fight it. I waited several minutes, and he didn’t come back. I was hopeful. Then, all at once, he gasped and crackled and opened his eyes. I backed away and gave him some space, but I knew if he bit me it wouldn’t matter.

  He made it to his feet, but the others were far enough away that it didn’t startle them. I don’t even think they noticed. He faced me, standing there, laboring to fill lungs that were no longer of any use to him, and parted his lips slightly. His brow furrowed, and he looked pained and sad. It broke my heart. I said, “I love you, Dext.”

  Then it happened. He didn’t come for me. He didn’t snarl and gnash his teeth like the others do. He simply turned his back on me. Slowly and somewhat clumsily, he turned and faced the sea once more as if to gaze at the sparkling water and the idly floating navy vessels.

  I pulled the trigger.

  – Kylee

  About the Author:

  Steve Kuhn is a former professional musician turned writer. Raised in Baltimore, Maryland and with a deep seeded passion for horror, he brings a refreshingly raw and witty style to his work. He has been featured in countless online publications as a critical reviewer and has spent the last three years crafting the epic zombie series, Dext of the Dead.

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