This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope

by James D. Dean

  “Yeah,” Chris sighed. “I didn’t even think about that. Plus the rear camera is out, so Mark is our eyes and ears behind us for right now. But first things first, we need to get those tanks vented before we end up poisoning ourselves.”

  “What about another barn?” Anna asked.

  “We were thinking that,” Chris replied. “We’ll need some welding equipment to fix the plows at the very least. Going on supply runs will get dicey once that horde catches up.”

  “You think they will?” Rosa asked. “We’ve put a lot of distance between us.”

  “Maybe they will get distracted,” Chris replied. “But I don’t want to put a lot of faith into a maybe. Something’s changed, and we don’t know what. I do know those screaming ones have a bit more going on upstairs than the others.”

  I was giving the situation a moment’s thought when I caught Lexi trying her best to not look like she was eavesdropping. She lounged on her seat, back against the wall, resting her head against her balled fist with her ear cocked in our direction.

  “Hey Lexi,” I called over to her. “Why don’t you join in, I have a couple questions for you.”

  She leapt from her seat, almost skipping her way back over toward us, taking a seat directly across from Chris and I.

  “Well, I know you’re up to speed on what we were saying,” I teased. “Next time don’t be such an obvious eavesdropper.”

  “Um, I wasn’t trying too–” she stuttered.

  “It’s okay. You’re just as big a part of this as the rest of us,” I said, letting her off the hook. “You had a better look at the lumberjack zombie than the rest of us. Did you see anything odd or different about it?”

  “Well,” she said after some thought. “There was something strange about when I shot it.”

  “How so?” Chris asked.

  “Well, it’s kind of gross. But when I shoot the others, it usually looks like green and black jelly that flies out of their heads. But when I shot that one, it was more like yellow mayonnaise. And it smelled like shit too!”

  “Language young lady,” I chided.

  “You want me to shoot dead people in the head but you don’t want me to cuss?” Lexi asked sarcastically.

  “She’s got a point,” Chris said. “About the smell and the swearing.”

  “We’ll talk about the swearing later,” I said. “But I agree, that was the worst thing I have ever smelled in my life. I mean that was worse than Chris after a bowl of Anna’s chili.”

  “Hey!” Anna snapped. “That chili is from a recipe handed down through my family.”

  “Was it handed down before or after it reached lethal doses?” I smiled.

  “Hey,” Chris came to his wife’s rescue. “I happen to like her chili!”

  “So do I,” I said. “It’s delicious, but it has some serious staying power.”

  “I’ll second that!” Joe called back.

  “Agreed!” Matt added.

  “Who asked either of you?!” Anna shot back.

  “Okay, dangerous food aside,” I said trying to refocus the conversation. “Back to the lumberjack. Lexi, did you see its eyes?”

  “It was the first thing I looked at,” she answered. “They looked just like the rest, white and flat.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything though,” Matt said as he strode down the aisle toward us. “That biker dude only had black eyes in the dark.”

  “That’s true,” Chris said. “I would bet the black-eyed ones are the screamers, but we have no proof of that yet. Did anyone see anything else?”

  “Maybe,” Matt answered. “Did its drool look different to anyone else?”

  “Now that you mention it,” Lexi said. “It looked a lot darker.”

  “Yeah, I saw that too,” I said. “I heard on the radio that a zombie’s saliva is like a toxin.”

  “Anna and I heard that too,” Chris said. “It was talked about a couple days before the broadcasts stopped. You were still unconscious then.”

  “I saw them drool like that when I was trapped in the hospital,” Rosa added. “Especially when they were ready to attack someone.”

  “Then there’s the silence,” Chris added. “We’ve all seen how quiet they get when they are actively hunting.”

  “I’m trying to forget that part,” I said. “I did notice something else when I was up on the hill. The screamers came out first, but when the rest of them showed up it was like a shoulder to shoulder ocean. Except around the screamers. It was like the other zombies went out of their way to avoid them. It was the same with the lumberjack. The others almost formed a shield around it, and moved as it moved. But as soon as it died, those things attacked it and ate it like it was a living person.”

  “So,” Chris sighed. “We have zeds that get quiet when they are ready to pounce, produce venom, some with night vision and now potentially a leadership structure that uses the others like undead human shields. Does that sum up how royally fucked we are, or does anyone have anything else to add?”

  “Daddy,” Faith’s little voice broke through the gathering of adults. We all turned to see her face poking out from their pillow fort. “My head feels funny. So does Jane’s.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything dude, but my head’s feeling a little light,” Matt said. “I think those fumes are getting to me.”

  “Alright,” Chris ordered. “Everyone start opening up those shooting ports. It’s going to get cold in here, but we need to get as much fresh air flowing as possible. Joe, pull us into the first building big enough to hold us all.”

  “You got it, bud,” Joe called back.

  “Alright, let’s get to work people,” Chris ordered.

  As everyone started to make their way down the aisle sliding open the small rectangular ports in our steel armor, Lexi stopped to put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Welcome back, Batman.”

  Chapter 13

  Jason and his men walked the silent road side by side, weapons low but ready. Titan kept to Murphy’s side, his limp noticeably lessening the more he walked. Looking at the dog’s clean golden fur, Jason guessed that Murphy had spent some of their down time cleaning him off and tending to the bite wound.

  Within minutes they came across a small tan building with bright white framework tucked back from the road and surrounded by trees. THE SHED sign stood out in large red lettering atop the wood awning that hung over the narrow deck. Wooden lawn furniture dotted the landscape, sitting on either side of the short driveway that wound around the building. A silver minivan sat in the lone parking spot just beyond the store’s entrance.

  “Well,” Murphy started. “This is…interesting.”

  “That’s a word for it,” Jason said. “It looks like a modern art masterpiece had kids with Home Depot’s garden center. Jeffries, I thought you said this place was called The Barn?”

  “The Shed is part of The Barn,” Jeffries answered simply. His eyes darted around, his finger hovering above the trigger.

  “Of course, silly me,” Jason said. “Honestly, I’m more interested in that minivan. What are the odds we’d be lucky enough to find keys?”

  “Buddy, seeing as we’re now on foot after getting ambushed by dead things that shouldn’t be walking in the first place, I’d say luck is not on our side,” Murphy said.

  “You have the most interesting ways of putting things into perspective, Murph,” Jason smiled. “Are all southern boys as articulate as you?”

  “Only the ones from Kansas,” Murphy laughed. “But please, no Oz jokes. Those are older than my granddaddy’s socks.”

  “Gunny!” Dunford snapped, raising his rifle to ready. “Deadheads in the windows!”

  Jason snapped his rifle up, scanning across the front of the small shop. Several faces pressed against the small glass panels set inside the white double doors, smearing the windows with streaks of greasy fluids from their decomposing flesh. The doors rattled as the things tried to beat their way through them.

  “
That’s not going to hold them long,” Jason said. “Let’s get our shit together people.”

  “We should check the van first,” Murphy said. “See if the battery still has power.”

  “Good idea,” Jason said, eyes scanning the field in front of him.

  “Murphy with me,” Jason ordered. “Dunford, Jeffries, sweep the yard and look for anything useful. Priorities are fuel and water. Meet anything dead and hungry, keep it quiet. Rifles only if there’s no other choice. Five mikes and we’re out, van or not.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” they snapped in unison before heading off, weapons raised.

  Jason was immediately on the move, Murphy and Titan taking up position beside him as they made their way to the van.

  Titan stuck close to Murphy’s side, his nose up as he sampled the air. Every few seconds he would lower his head, emitting a low deep growl before raising up to sniff again.

  “He knows they’re around,” Murphy whispered. “Can’t tell if he’s picking up the ones inside or if there’s more.”

  Jason stopped, straining his ears for sounds out of the ordinary. Not picking up any sounds that aroused concern, he nodded at Murphy and the two continued on.

  Jason reached the minivan, moving along the driver’s side and peering inside the shaded windows for anything living or dead. Murphy did the same on the other side, creeping along the vehicle and scanning the inside for hidden dangers.

  The two met up in front of the van, performing one last check of the area before relaxing their weapons. Jason walked back to the driver’s door and found the door unlocked. He lifted the handle, opening the door a crack to sniff the air. Though it was tainted with the heavy aroma of cheap cigars, it was free of the pungent stench of rotting meat.

  Jason took one last look around and slipped inside the vehicle. Relief washed over him when he hit the door lock button and all the locks opened. A quick check of the lights and Jason was assured the battery still had some life left in it. However, his relief was short lived when a quick search of the area around the driver’s seat did not produce the van’s keys.

  “How’s it look,” Murphy whispered as he slid into the passenger side. Titan sat down outside, his black nose held high as he continued to sniff the air.

  “Still got some power,” Jason answered, pulling the overhead visor down. “But no keys,” he sighed.

  “I’m guessing one of those meatheads inside has ‘em,” Murphy exhaled, reaching out and scratching Titan’s head.

  “Nothing’s ever easy is it?” Jason sighed again, dropping his head back on the headrest. “How many did you see?”

  “Six at least. Maybe more.”

  “And I bet there’s not a window open in that place either.”

  “Probably not. I’d guess it smells like an overripe shithouse in there.”

  “No doubt,” Jason said. “Shall we deliver the bad news?”

  “I’ll let you handle that,” Murph replied as he hopped out of the van. He turned in time to see the two men round the corner of the building. “I think it’s your turn for bad news delivery.”

  “Thanks,” Jason rolled his eyes.

  “What’s the word, Gunny?” Dunford asked, his speech altered slightly from his swollen red lip.

  “Not good,” Jason replied. “No keys. You turn up anything?”

  “One rotter,” Jeffries answered. “Nothing a butt stroke to the skull couldn’t cure. Other than that, just more useless junk.”

  “What’s the plan, Gunny?” Dunford asked.

  “Well,” Jason shrugged. “I was thinking we shoot those things through the glass then check their pockets for keys.”

  “What about the noise?” Jeffries asked.

  “There’s too many of them inside to risk hand to hand,” Jason said. “I don’t like it, but it is what it is.”

  “Well, if we’re going to do it, let’s not half ass it,” Murphy said. “I say we pound on the door and wait to see if any more of them are in the shop. Give it a few seconds, and then take ‘em down all at once.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Jason said.

  The double doors creaked under the pressure of so many bodies. Teeth pressed against the small glass panels, torn and bloodied hands scratching at the wood. A dead woman with half her face torn away slammed her forehead against the door until her eye popped free of the socket and dangled on her cheekbone. She slammed against the door again, catching the eye between her boney face and the glass, splattering yellow pus across the panes.

  “I don’t think I want pie anymore,” Dunford said as he choked down the rising bile.

  “The hell with knocking,” Jason said between gags. “Those things are making enough noise to draw down anything in that place.”

  “Agreed,” Murphy said, his face twisted in disgust.

  “Should be easy enou–”

  The sudden crack of splintering wood and shattering glass interrupted Jason mid-sentence. With a thunderous crash the doors broke away. Zombies poured out of the shop, tumbling over each other and falling into a writhing pile of decayed flesh and putrid fluids.

  “Jeffries!” Murphy shouted. “Move!”

  His warning came too late. Corporal Braden Jeffries had been too close to the narrow porch when the mass of squirming bodies rolled out. Decayed boney hands grabbed his legs, tumbling him to the ground. His rifle belched out a three round burst of 5.56mm bullets that punched holes into the building, but did nothing to stop the inevitable.

  Creatures fell on him before he could scream, raking deep gashes into his face. Sharp jagged teeth tore through his trousers, bright red blood blossoming across the calf of his desert camouflage MCCUUs. He pushed the biter on his face away, only to have another creature clamp down on his fingers, ripping the digits off with a stomach churning crunch.

  “Braden!” Dunford screamed. He rushed forward in time to see arterial blood fountain into the air as a piece of his throat was torn away.

  “Titan! Kill!” Murphy shouted. He charged into the scrum, drawing his e-tool and imbedding it into the first creature he encountered. He ripped his weapon free, sending bits of sizzling brain skyward. He brought the weapon down between the shoulder blades of a zombie with its teeth clamped onto Jeffries’ leg, ripping the dead thing away with a jerk. With a stomp of his boot heel to the zombie’s temple, the monster stilled.

  Titan launched into the undead pile, clamping his powerful jaws around the first zombie head he encountered. With a vicious snarl, he dispatched the creature with frightening efficiency before moving on to his next kill.

  Jason bounded up to the deck as a lone male creature trudged its way through the obliterated door. Holstering his pistol and drawing his Ka-Bar, he plunged the blade upward through the monster’s eye, lodging it deep into the its skull.

  Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the store opening as another shambler stumbled across the threshold. Fluidly he drew his pistol and fired three shots in rapid succession into another creature making its way outside. Clotted blood and brain sprayed across the walls as the bullets tore through its head, sizzling as it broke down into thick slime.

  Dunford threw the creatures from his dying friend until he could pull Jeffries free. He dragged the man away from the pile of bodies while Murphy and Jason continued to destroy the creatures, with a little help from Titan.

  He dropped to his knees, pulling a pressure dressing from his first aid pack and pressed it down on Jeffries’ open throat wound. The dressing soaked through in seconds, leaving Dunford scrambling to find more.

  Jeffries grabbed Dunford’s hand in his own, and shook his head, eyes brimming with tears. Jeffries reached to his holster and drew his sidearm. He glanced over at the melee and back to Dunford.

  “Go,” he mouthed.

  “Screw you man,” Dunford cried. “Not yet!”

  With the last of his energy, Jeffries shoved his friend away, sending Dunford tumbling backward onto his ass. Before Dunford could recover, Jeffries
shoved his pistol into his mouth. He nodded at his friend one last time, and fired.

  Jason snapped his head around at the loud pop to find Jeffries laying still in a rapidly growing pool of blood. Dunford sat beside him, holding his hand with a blank stare on his face.

  “Fuck!” Jason screamed his throat dry. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He slammed his gloved fist against the wall with each utterance until he dropped his head against it.

  An old dead man slowly emerged from the dark store, dried and rotted intestine swaying from a huge gash in its gut. Its torn and blood soaked hemp clothing dragged along the ground behind it. It clacked its teeth together with loud pops, anticipating the warm flesh in front of it. It reached for his face, raking its blood stained fingernails through the air.

  It didn’t stand a chance.

  Jason narrowed his eyes at the creature, his teeth clenched as his entire body shook. As the tip of the zombie’s clawed finger brushed his shoulder, Jason unleashed his fury.

  With a twist of his body, he spun the creature into an arm lock. Its elbow splintered with a loud crack as Jason brought his fist down onto the joint. He moved the creature into a hammerlock, forcing the arm behind the things back and up until its shoulder dislocated with a loud snap.

  Jason punched the thing between its shoulder blades, sending it tumbling against the building’s wall. It started to turn toward him, its lips curled back in a snarl. Jason’s fist caught it straight in its ear, bouncing the thing’s head against the wall. He rained blows down onto its skull until the bone audibly cracked and pus colored brain oozed from its nostrils.

  “Foster!” Murphy screamed, breaking through Jason’s murderous rage. “It’s dead!”

  Jason stepped back, allowing the thing to slide down to the ground. It slowly crumpled onto the deck, leaving a trail of dissolved brain tissue streaking across the wall. Jason spun on his heel, driving the back of his boot straight into the creatures face with a backward kick that shattered what was left of its features.

  “Dial it back, brother,” Murphy said calmly, putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I’ll search these things. Dunford needs you.”