Rise of the Dead (Book 2): Return of the Dead

by Dyson, Jeremy

  I lower my eyes and shake my head.

  “Maybe you think my methods are a little… extreme. But you need to wake up, princess. The world is an evil place.”

  “Mostly because of people like you,” I say.

  The fingers of the corpse on the ground beside Bishop begin to twitch as Owen returns from the dead. I fix my gaze on Bishop and try not to look at the body again. He stares back at me and smiles. Maybe he won’t notice until it’s too late.

  “It’s a real shame how things turned out, Scout,” Bishop says. “See, I got a real good eye for talent. We could have really used someone like you. You and me could have been very, very good friends, princess.”

  “If you even think about touching her,” Steven warns him.

  “You ain’t gonna do shit,” Bishop says. “Goddamn pussy.”

  “Fuck you,” Steven spits.

  The corpse lets out a moan as it starts to sit up. Bishop lounges in the chair beside it and watches me with a smug smile. Even though he is aware of the threat beside him, he continues to watch me and wait. It’s like he wants me to see how fearless and insane he can be.

  “You know what I love best about all this?” Bishop asks me.

  The corpse climbs to its knees and gazes around the room.

  “You used to only get to kill someone once, and now, ” Bishop says. He pauses to grab the knife off the table and drives the blade up into the neck of the dead man until it skewers his head. The corpse continues to move his jaws and gurgle as Bishop stares into his vacant eyes. Finally, Bishop drives the knife up further until the thing falls limp again.

  “Let’s cut the shit,” Bishop sighs as he collapses back into the chair. “I don’t suppose if I ask nicely, one of you is going to tell me where the rest of them are hiding,” Bishop says.

  “We don’t know where they are,” I tell him. “We got separated over a week ago. For all we know they might be dead by now.”

  “She’s lying,” Dom says. I turn my head and glare at the woman with the blonde pixie hair putting out a cigarette on the lunch counter.

  “Bishop studies her face out of the corner of his eye and then he turns his cold stare at me.

  I’m telling you the truth,” I tell him.

  “Deny it all you want,” Dom scoffs. “You’re still lying. I was a lawyer. I know a liar when I see one.”

  “So who’d you have to blow to get this cushy job?” I sneer.

  Dom lights another long cigarette and gives me the finger.

  “Come on now, Scout,” Bishop sighs. “No reason to make this harder on yourself. Where is James?”

  “I’m not telling you sh—,” I begin to say, but Steven talks over me.

  “She already said she doesn’t know,” Steven sighs.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking you a damn thing,” Bishop turns his head and snarls at Steven. Then he suddenly gets to his feet and slugs Steven in the face.

  “Don’t interrupt the lady when she is talking,” Bishop warns him as returns to the chair that faces me.

  “Even if I knew where they are, I would rather die than tell you anything,” I say. “So you might as well save us all some time and just shoot me right now. You’d be doing me a favor anyway.”

  Bishop leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest as he considers my words.

  “I actually believe you,” Bishop tells me. “You’re a real piece of work, princess.”

  “Just get it over with,” I urge him.

  Bishop swivels in his seat to look at the grey-haired man in the booth and signals him to come over with a slight nod of his head. The man leaves the women at the booth and smirks at me as he crosses the diner. He leans down toward Bishop and whispers something into his ear. Bishop peeks at Steven out of the corner of his eye and nods a few times when the man is finished. He resumes giving me his disturbing stare while he puckers his lips and contemplates the situation.

  “I was really hoping you would be more reasonable, Scout,” Bishop frowns. “You’re really forcing my hand here. You see, one way or another, I’m going to get what I want.”

  Four

  The man with the grey hair pushes the table closer to me and Steven, and then he positions the chair across from us and takes a seat. He glances down and straightens the silverware on the napkin before him.

  “My name is Arkady,” he says with a hint of a Slavic accent. Maybe it’s Russian, I can’t be sure. He gives me and Steven a friendly smile that puts me on edge. Nobody should smile like that five minutes after witnessing a murder.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “All I want is to have a talk and see if I can help you both.”

  “We’ve got nothing to say to you,” I tell him.

  “That is unfortunate,” Arkady sighs. He notices Steven eyeing the pack of cigarettes that Bishop left on the table and picks them up. The man opens the pack and retrieves a cigarette and lights it and parks it between his lips. “I would prefer to end this quickly and spare you both some pain and anguish. Maybe even see if we can resolve this unfortunate situation without further violence.”

  “Sure,” Steven says. “That’s all we want. We never wanted any trouble.”

  “Shut up, Steven,” I warn him. Steven looks at me and I shake my head.

  We watch Arkady smoke the entire cigarette in silence as he stares intensely at me. Something about the lack of talking makes me want to say something, but I resist the urge.

  “In the end everyone talks,” Arkady finally says, “I want you to keep that in mind. Do not feel bad about it when it happens, because that is the only way this ends. Most people only end up regretting they did not talk sooner and avoid much unnecessary suffering.” He picks up the fork off the table and slowly turns it in his fingers as he subjects us to another painfully long pause.

  “Where are the others?” Arkady asks.

  Steven almost says something but then he catches himself. He drops his gaze and stares at the pack of cigarettes on the table.

  “Would you like a cigarette?” Arkady asks him.

  Steven doesn’t respond, but Arkady removes another cigarette from the pack and holds it out for Steven to lean in and take it between his lips.

  “You see,” Arkady says as leans across the table and lights the cigarette. “I’m just here to help. Let us sort everything out like reasonable men.”

  Arkady scoots his chair back and steps around the table. He removes the handcuffs from Steven’s wrists, but leaves me cuffed to the chair.

  “Is that better?” Arkady asks.

  Steven nods as he leans forward and rubs at the pink marks on his skin left by the cuffs. I realize it is just going to be a matter of time before Arkady is able to get Steven talking and he gives up everything.

  “You have to make them understand,” Steven says. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I can tell you are a good man,” Arkady says. “You just got caught in an unfortunate situation.”

  “Right,” Steven says. “If James never brought us to that damn store none of this would have ever happened.”

  “Shut up, Steven,” I hiss again.

  “A man like that will only put your friends in jeopardy again,” Arkady says. “It is just a matter of time.”

  Steven turns his head to look at me, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

  “If you cooperate perhaps your son will still be spared,” Arkady says.

  Steven stops rubbing his wrists and locks eyes with the grey-haired man.

  “Yes,” Arkady smirks. “I know about the boy. It would be a shame if something were to happen to him.”

  “Stop,” I say before Steven has a chance to respond. Maybe I can make up some other story to keep him from talking to Steven.

  Arkady smirks. “I’m am listening,” he says.

  “They’re at the church.” I didn’t even see a church in town, but it’s safe to guess there is a least one.

  “The church?” Arkady seems to consider this a
moment. He picks up the fork off of his napkin. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I stammer. I can’t tell if he is trying to trap me or not.

  He turns to look at Steven.

  “Put your hand on the table,” Arkady orders him.

  Steven hesitantly lays his hand on the table.

  “Is the rest of your group at the church?” he asks Steven.

  Steven turns to give me a questioning look. He has no idea how to answer.

  “Yes,” he finally nods. “That’s where they are.”

  “I see,” Arkady sighs.

  Steven lowers his eyes. I watch in horror as Arkady lifts the fork and drives the tines into the back of Steven’s hand. Steven howls in pain and tries to get out of the chair but Arkady quickly steps around the table and grabs Steven by the wrist. He twists Steven’s arm behind his back and clamps a hand around the back of his neck and slams his face down on to the table.

  “We were already at the church this morning,” Arkady hisses. “There are a couple hundred corpses barricaded inside.” He fixes his eyes on me as he yanks Steven’s arm up and pops his shoulder free from the socket.

  Steven grimaces and wails in agony. I feel the tears in my eyes as I sit there and watch him in pain and can do nothing to stop it. This was all my fault. As Steven stops screaming, I hear laughter across the room. Bishop leans against the lunch counter sipping out of a bottle of cola. He smiles when he notices me looking at him.

  “You see what you have made me do, Scout?” Arkady asks me as he presses Steven’s face against the tabletop. “I tried to help you and you deceive me. This is happening because of you.”

  Arkady releases his hold on Steven and pauses to smooth the fabric of his oxford shirt before he returns to his seat. Steven manages to sit up in the chair again and stares at the pool of blood around his hand that is impaled with the fork. His breath is strained and rapid as he turns to look at me. I notice he begins to shake.

  “I know you are feeling a lot of pain right now, Steven,” Arkady says. He reaches behind his back and his hand returns with a revolver. “Just tell me where they are and I can make it go away.”

  Steven stares at the gun as Arkady flips open the cylinder. Sweat trickles down his ashen face.

  “Go to hell,” Steven growls.

  Arkady smirks at him and silently begins removing the bullets from the cylinders one at a time.

  “It feels like the mood has become rather unpleasant,” Arkady says. He sets five bullets down on the table, then spins the cylinder and flips it closed with a flick of his wrist. “How about a little game to liven things up?”

  Steven and I both stare at the revolver in silence. We both know exactly where this is going.

  “By the look on your faces, I don’t think you need me to explain the way this game works, but I will do so just in case,” Arkady says. “I’m going to ask you each some questions. Every time you do not answer or take too long, you will have to try your luck. The game ends when one of you decides to talk or is dead.”

  Bishop leans his back against the counter and watches with interest as he runs his fingers across the dark stubble of his beard. The son of a bitch is really enjoying the show.

  Arkady cocks the hammer back and then he centers the tip of the barrel against Steven’s forehead. Steven begins to tremble. The pain from his dislocated shoulder and the fork lodged in his hand and the terror of a gun pressed to his head is too much for him to handle any longer.

  “Where is the rest of your group?” Arkady asks Steven.

  “Please, God,” Steven begs the man. Spittle trickles over his quivering lips as he speaks. He shakes his head as he looks down and begins to sob. “Please. Don’t do this, man.”

  This is it, I think. He can’t possibly take anymore.

  “Time is up,” Arkady says. He pulls the trigger.

  I flinch at the sound of the hammer clicking, but the gun doesn’t fire. I let out a breath that I’d been holding hostage in my lungs. Even though I am relieved that Steven is alive and his brains aren’t covering the wall, I know this is far from over. Now it’s my turn. I hear the hammer of the revolver being pulled back again and turn my head to see Arkady pointing the pistol at my face. He raises his arm and presses the gun against my forehead.

  “Your turn, Scout,” Arkady smiles. “Same question.”

  I close my eyes and try to think of something nice instead of the nauseous feeling in my stomach and how bad my hands are shaking. The only memories that come back at the moment are all the horrible things I’ve been trying to forget.

  “Too long,” Arkady says but Steven breaks before he pulls the trigger.

  “Hold on, man. Hold on!” Steven screams. “I’ll tell you where they are. Just please, stop this.”

  Damn it, Steven. I open my eyes to see the anguish on Steven’s face. I can tell he isn’t going to hold anything back now. He wasn’t willing to watch me die in front of him.

  Arkady watches my expression and smirks but keeps the gun pressed against my skull.

  “They’re still alive,” Steven says.

  “Where are they?” Arkady demands.

  Steven hesitates for a moment. He looks into my eyes that are pleading with him to keep his mouth shut.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  A gunshot rings out and one of the guards at the door drops to the ground. Then an assault rifle opens fire and peppers the restaurant windows with bullets. Arkady moves the gun from my head and fires a round toward the front of the diner as he moves away. If Steven had not said something that bullet would have killed me. It was my turn.

  I lean over and topple my chair and drop to the ground to take cover behind an overturned table. It’s better than nothing. Rotten food, shards of glass and bits of furniture rain down on me as I curl up in a ball. I call out to Steven, but can’t hear anything over the sound of gunfire. Feet run past me toward the back of the restaurant. I try to crawl across the floor to get to the kitchen but it’s difficult to move with my hands cuffed behind my back. Soon the firefight moves outside. I hear a truck peel out on the pavement followed by a few rounds of bullets piercing metal. The restaurant falls silent once again. I check myself to see if I’m hit, but somehow I came out unscathed.

  “Steven!” I call out into the restaurant.

  “Yeah,” he coughs. “Over here.”

  I manage to push myself up to a sitting position and look around the restaurant. The girls that were with Arkady cower beneath a table against the wall. I get to my knees and peer over the table toward the front of the diner. There is no sign of Bishop anywhere. I locate Steven between two other bodies sprawled face down on the floor near the entrance and crawl through the broken glass to get to him.

  “Hang in there,” I tell him. I begin to search the body of the guy beside him hoping to find a key to the handcuffs. Before I can locate it, the door to the diner flings open, I look up to find a woman with a blonde ponytail wearing a tank top and camo pants, and she is pointing a gun at me.

  Five

  “Who are you?” the blonde woman demands. She glances around the restaurant. Her eyes find the women crawling out from beneath a table. She looks down at Steven and then she locks her eyes on me again.

  “Scout,” I stammer. “You mind getting these cuffs off me?”

  “Not until you tell me just what the hell was going on in here,” the woman says. She looks over her shoulder and nods at a soldier just outside the door. Four soldiers enter the diner and begin sweeping the room and checking the bodies.

  “You showed up just in time,” I say to the woman. “Those people took us hostage and tortured us.”

  “Why?” the woman demands.

  “They’ve been after us for a couple weeks,” I say. “The guy in charge, Bishop, is forming some kind of army in this massive underground facility.”

  “You know where it is?” the woman asks.

  Even though I would be dead if they didn’t show up, I’m still not sure how m
uch information I should give this woman. Besides, it’s kind of a long story and Steven is still bleeding on the floor.

  “Please, I’ll explain everything, but my friend needs help,” I say and tilt my head toward Steven. “Is there like a medic here or something?”

  Her eyes glance down to Steven as he groans on the floor.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “Check him out, Hernacki,” the woman orders one of the soldiers. The youngest member of the squad, a dark-haired kid with a sparse beard, hustles over and crouches beside Steven.

  “Thank you,” I say to the woman.

  “The cuffs are staying on you for now,” the woman informs me. “Nothing personal. I just don’t know if I can trust you yet, Scout.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” I admit. I still don’t know if I should trust them either. They saved our asses but they must have some other reason for being here. I doubt they were just being good samaritans.

  “Hey, Jess, this guy is pretty fucked up,” Hernacki says.

  “Do what you can for him,” she shrugs.

  Hernacki looks back at Steven uncertainly.

  “Isn’t he a medic?” I ask.

  “We don’t have a medic anymore,” Jess answers.

  I struggle up to my feet. Jess watches me closely but doesn’t make a move to stop me. I glance through the window at a pair of Humvees parked outside. Our truck is still parked on the street as well. At least we got that back, though, it is riddled with bullet holes now.

  “Listen,” I say. “The rest of our group is a few miles outside of town. One of them is a paramedic. If you’ll just let us go I can get help for my friend.”

  The woman seems to think about this. She cranes her neck to look at the girls in the back of the restaurant.

  “What’s their deal?” she asks. “They with you?”

  “I don’t know who the are,” I snap. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time here.”

  “You said it’s a few miles away,” she says. “You going to carry him all that way?”

  “That’s our truck outside,” I tell her.