Dead South | Book 2 | Dead Lies

by Bohannon, Zach

  Dead Lies

  Dead South Book Two

  Zach Bohannon

  Copyright © 2021 by Zach Bohannon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Jennifer Collins

  Cover by Yocla Designs

  zachbohannon.com

  moltenuniversemedia.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  The Story Continues

  Also by Zach Bohannon

  About Zach Bohannon

  1

  Jon South watched the dead creature wander past the aging oak tree.

  Only, the deer wasn’t dead. Not yet.

  It had become increasingly rare to see these animals. Deer had once been common out in the Tennessee woods, but the end of the world had driven down their population. The humans who remained needed them to survive, and the zombies lumbering around didn’t seem to discriminate between animals and people when hunting for their next meal. As a result, Jon had seen his fair share of disembodied carcasses of not only deer, but all sorts of wildlife.

  This one belonged to the survivors at Hope’s Dawn. Jon would make sure of that.

  He repositioned his rifle, resting his arms on top of the log he’d taken cover behind. Looking down the sight, he aimed at the animal. Before the outbreak, this white-tailed deer would have been deemed too small to justify a tag. Shooting and killing it would have earned Jon a hefty fine from the wildlife department. But those rules were out the window now. This was about survival. And if it was between Jon taking this young animal down or letting a pack of zombies feast on it, Jon would opt to give the deer a quick and painless death.

  As he waited for a clear shot, Jon glanced to his right. About twenty yards away, Terrence had kneeled behind a large rock. He, too, had his eyes on the deer, his rifle ready to take the animal down. The two men had bonded in the few days Jon had been at Hope’s Dawn. So much had happened in that short time, and Jon felt like he’d known Terrence forever. He was happy to be out hunting with his new friend.

  The two men shared a look and Jon held up his index finger, then pointed at himself. Terrence nodded, agreeing to let Jon take the shot, and then both men turned their attention back to the animal.

  Jon aimed down the sight again. The deer was only partially visible behind a tree, but if it moved a few yards ahead, Jon knew he’d have a clear shot. He drew steady breaths, waiting for the deer to make its move. It looked around, staring in Jon’s direction without the slightest clue that a hunter lay in wait, patiently holding out for a window to end its life. But that’s what life had become: a game of seeking the next opportunity to survive another day.

  Judah had played that game and lost. Without realizing it, he’d built a silent monster in the people of Hope’s Dawn. All they’d needed had been some external force to push them over the edge, and Jon had been that force.

  Jon had spent the days since the battle with the Vultures trying to forget about Judah. What’s done was done, and Jon had learned that vengeance didn’t lead to happiness, but only more pain. He’d spent all the time since Carrie and Spencer had died taking his anger out on the undead, only to learn that it had been Judah who’d killed his family. But although Jon had ended Judah’s life, the numb feeling remained inside of him. His family was still gone; nothing would change that. The only thing he could take away from the cult leader’s death was that Hope’s Dawn would be a safer place now.

  While thinking of Judah, Jon also wondered who ‘he’ was. In his final moments, Judah had spoken of a man who would find Jon and hurt him for what he’d done to the Vultures. But Jon also knew that Judah had been a psychopath, and the claim could just as easily have been a way for Judah to try to hold power over Jon in his final breaths. Jon doubted that this ‘he’ even existed, so he generally pushed the thoughts of the theoretical figure aside when they came. He had more immediate things to worry about, such as feeding the folks of Hope’s Dawn.

  The deer dropped its head to the ground for a moment before lifting it again and taking a couple of steps forward. Jon focused, gripping the rifle tight. The only sounds filling his ears were that of his breathing and birds chirping from the trees overhead.

  Jon licked the salt from his lips as the deer stepped into full view. His clammy palm rested on the side of the rifle as his index finger floated over the trigger. The deer gazed around again, and Jon exhaled as he fired.

  The shot rang out through the woods, sending birds flapping off the branches. Hidden animals scattered all around, staying invisible even as Jon was made aware of them by the rustling of leaves and the waving of the brush. Jon had watched the deer twitch as the bullet had entered its side. As was its instinct, the deer ran away, and Jon remained still, watching it. The animal disappeared out of sight, but after several moments, Jon no longer heard it running. He glanced over at Terrence, who used two fingers to point at his eyes, then ahead toward the deer. He also gave Jon a thumbs-up, indicating he saw where the deer had fallen.

  The two men abandoned their posts and met.

  “Hell of a shot, brother,” Terrence said, sticking his hand out to offer a congratulatory handshake to Jon. “Come on, follow me.”

  When they got to where the deer had been standing when Jon shot it, he saw the blood trail on the ground. Terrence didn’t even have to look down at it. He’d had a clear view of the deer when it had fallen and led them right to the spot.

  The deer lay there, eyes open, in a patch of tall grass. Jon studied the side of it, finding the bullet wound near its ribs.

  “You might have hit it right in the lung,” Terrence said. “A nice, clean shot.”

  When Jon stared into the deer’s eyes, the image of Judah sitting against the wall as his house burned down came to him. Along with the crooked smile across his face as he fought to take every last breath he could. Then the image in Jon’s head shifted to finding Carrie and Spencer’s bodies out in the woods, in a place very similar to where he stood now. Jon wheezed, trying to block the image out of his mind as he nearly lost his balance and fell.

  “You alright?” Terrence asked.

  Jon scratched his head. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Not sure what happened there. Let’s just get this thing loaded up in the truck.”

  They hauled the deer back to the pickup parked only a hundred yards or so away from the area they’d been hunting. Once they’d loaded it into the bed, Terrence shrugged at Jon.

  “We’ve proba
bly got another hour or so before we need to get back. You ready to call it a day?”

  Jon looked to the sky, checking the position of the sun. The morning was shifting into the afternoon, and the temperature had started to rise.

  “Probably for the best. We’ve got a long night ahead of us. We can try again tomorrow.”

  As Jon went around to the truck’s passenger side, he heard a familiar noise out in the woods. He followed the direction of the sound and found three zombies sauntering between the trees, snarling as they traveled some forty yards away. Jon stood next to the open door and watched them. He thought of all the time he’d spent out in these same woods, beating the dead things senseless with his bat and decapitating them and removing limbs with his hatchet. It had been his entire existence for some time.

  “You ready to go?” Terrence asked.

  Jon stared at the zombies for another moment, and then he slapped the door and said, “Yeah, let’s go home,” as he got into the passenger seat and closed the door.

  2

  Terrence pulled up to the gate at Hope’s Dawn, where Jess stood guard. She’d smiled and waved at Terrence and Jon as the had truck approached, sliding the gate open for them. As Terrence drove through, his left arm hanging over the open window, Jess glanced into the bed of the truck.

  “You got one!”

  Terrence pointed his thumb at Jon. “He did. It was a helluva shot.”

  “Stop with that shit,” Jon said, grinning and shaking his head. “You would’ve hit it, too, if you’d had the clearer shot. Well, probably.”

  Terrence elbowed Jon and laughed. “Yeah, well, we’ll see tomorrow.”

  He headed slowly toward the rear of Hope’s Dawn, where they’d fashioned a slaughterhouse in one of the buildings. Jon smiled and waved at the few residents they passed, but the farther toward the back of the camp they got, the less enthusiastic people looked. He knew why, and when they reached the slaughterhouse, the scene before the two men stifled their joy.

  To their left lay ten covered bodies, each positioned in front of a freshly dug hole along the fence at the back of Hope’s Dawn. Under each sheet lay a hero who’d been lost during the battle with the Vultures. Nine of the people had died that day at the Vultures’ camp. Another, Bethanie, had succumbed to her injuries a day later—due to complications from a gunshot wound. Several others remained injured and under the care of Dennis, each in varying conditions. Jon hoped that no other lives be lost.

  Their smiles gone, both men grew silent as they exited the truck. The old pickup’s doors squeaked as they opened them, and then they slammed them shut almost in unison. They met at the back of the truck, and Terrence lowered the tailgate. Jon grabbed the deer’s head, Terrence took the back, and they walked it over to the slaughterhouse.

  “I’m not looking forward to today,” Terrence said, breaking the silence.

  Jon shook his head. “No one is.”

  A memorial service for the ten victims had been scheduled for that afternoon. Two days had passed since the bloody fight, and with no freezers to keep the bodies cold, it was past time for them to be laid to rest.

  Terrence pushed the door ajar with his foot, and the two men stepped sideways inside. They laid the deer on the large table in the center of the room.

  “At least we’ll have a decent meal to eat tonight,” Terrence said.

  Jon noticed more light come into the room and glanced back at the door. Brooke entered, having opened the door all the way.

  “I’m gonna go grab Curtis and let him know we’ve got some work for him here,” Terrence said.

  Jon nodded, and Terrence exited past Brooke, hugging her on the way by. She wore her dark blonde hair in a ponytail, highlighting her green eyes and her warm smile.

  Brooke came all the way into the room. “Your work?” Brooke asked.

  “Yeah. It’s a little small, but she’ll do.”

  Brooke shrugged. “We’ve gotta eat what we can. The folks here will appreciate it, especially on a day like this.”

  “Have you checked on Garrett today?”

  Brooke nodded. “He’s doing a lot better. In fact, he’s been telling Dennis to quit putting so much attention on him and take care of the others.”

  “How are they?”

  Brooke slipped her hands into her pockets. “They’re doing okay. Fisher and Lauren aren’t out of the woods yet, but I’m confident they’re going to be fine.”

  “That’s good news then, I guess. Could be worse.”

  Jon scratched his head and stared down at the ground. In the two days since the fight with the Vultures, Jon had dealt with feeling a load of guilt. His goal had been to go turn himself in to the cultish group and sacrifice himself for the people of Hope’s Dawn. Instead, nine innocent people had been killed while he had survived. And he wondered what might have happened if he’d never come to Hope’s Dawn. Would Judah have eventually grown tired of the people there and killed them anyway? Would the life they’d been able to live have been worth it?

  Brooke approached Jon and put her hand on his shoulder. “You have to quit blaming yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But if I had never shown up, then—”

  “Then we would still be slaves to the Vultures,” Brooke said, cutting him off. “The people here made a choice. No one was forced to go to that settlement and fight. They did it because they wanted to. Because they believed that Hope’s Dawn is a better place with Jon South a part of it.”

  Jon looked up and into Brooke’s eyes. “Thanks. I just hope they made the right choice.”

  Brooke smiled. “They did. We did.”

  Jon nodded. “I’m going to go clean up and get ready for this thing. So, I’ll see you in a bit.”

  3

  Jon stared at himself in the mirror as he tucked his plaid button-up shirt into his pants. It seemed that each day, he became less of the man he’d once been. With each fight came more scars. The infrequent showers and time out in the sun gave his skin a darker and more leathery appearance. Because he’d had a steady source of food, he’d managed to keep his weight consistent, but the stresses of the dead world had aged him. Would there come a point where he looked in the mirror and failed to recognize the face looking back at him altogether?

  Jon knew his life would never be the same again. It had been especially true since he’d tossed the battered photograph of Carrie and Spencer into the campfire. In that moment, he had decided to start over. He would never forget his late wife and son—that was impossible. But Hope’s Dawn had given him the opportunity to start over. He would have wanted Carrie to do that if it had been him who’d died, and he knew she would have wanted the same out of him.

  That didn’t make the process of getting there any easier, of course.

  He combed his hand through his curly black hair and then ran it down his face, rubbing his days-old scruff. “Who the hell are you?”

  A knock at the bedroom door pulled his attention away from the mirror.

  “You good?” Terrence asked.

  “Yeah, come on in.”

  The door opened, and Terrence stood in the doorway. “Brooke and Lucas are outside if you’re ready.”

  Jon took a last look at himself in the mirror before turning back to Terrence. “Yeah. Let’s go ahead.”

  On the way out, Jon grabbed his pistol off the bed. With what had happened with the Vultures, he no longer wanted to leave the house unarmed. It was too risky now, and he had a lot more to live for than when he’d gone venturing into the woods with only his bat and hatchet to take out zombies.

  “Everything been good for you here?” Terrence asked as they headed for the front door.

  “It has. I appreciate you inviting me to come live with you.”

  “Of course. There’s no reason for you to be living out there in a tent when I’ve got the space. Especially after….”

  His sentence trailed off, and Jon knew why. Max had lived in the house with Terrence. In fact, it
was Max’s former room that Jon had moved into. Jon hadn’t even had the chance to clear out all of Max’s personal belongings yet, leaving an eerie vibe in the space.

  “He could be annoying,” Terrence said. “But he was a good kid.”

  “And he was a hero,” Jon said, reflecting on how Max had died while saving him from the gallows. “Now, let’s go honor him as such.”

  Jon let Terrence out then exited, shutting the door behind him. Brooke and Lucas stood in the yard, waiting for them. Brooke had her arm around her son, who’d dressed in a navy button-up shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans, worn-out tennis shoes on his feet. Brooke wore a dark green summer dress with a bright floral pattern and a pair of sandals, her hair flowing down to her shoulders. None of them wore the traditional attire for a funeral. They simply dressed in what they had available, accepting that some traditions had died with the old world.

  Terrence hugged Brooke, and she gripped the back of his shirt, tightly closing her eyes as a few tears glistened in the sun. When they let go of their embrace, Terrence squeezed Lucas’ shoulder. Then Brooke wiped her eyes as she looked at Jon.

  He approached her, kissing her on the cheek and wrapping his arms around her. She cried more, but held most of her emotion in. Even in a moment where she could let go, Brooke opted to try to remain strong and hide her emotions.