Jenny Undead (The Thirteen: Book One)

by Murray, J. L.

  Jenny Undead

  by

  J.L. Murray

  Copyright © 2014 by J.L. Murray

  All Rights Reserved.

  Kindle Edition published by Hellzapoppin Press, Honolulu Hawai'i.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  ONE

  Jenny ducked under a concrete overpass riddled with cracks and graffiti. Huddling against the cool stone, holding her knife with both hands, she tried not to breathe. She stared straight ahead, afraid to move. She willed her heart to slow down. It was beating so hard in her ears that she could barely hear the dozen rotters stumbling across the road above her. They were old, which was lucky, but she still couldn't take that many at once.

  Someone had painted “PRAY TO THE 13” in three-foot tall letters. She had seen the tag before. The Thirteen were a myth, everyone knew that. They were supposed to be a brave cult of superhumans looking for a miraculous cure. It was a fairy tale. Some said they were rotters who were somehow still living. Most said it was all bullshit.

  She stayed still as the wave of rotters passed overhead. A few stopped to sniff the air above her, but they kept their odd gait up the street, a few tripping and falling over their own feet, then getting up again. Jenny looked down at her Righteous dress, covered in rotter guts, and the bowie knife in her grip, dripping with dark, coagulated blood. She stank as much as they did. But that wasn't why they passed by. They were going toward Expo, and the scents of hundreds of Heathens was overpowering, all their blood and flesh like a buffet. The vendors at Expo had ways of dealing with the undead. There was a strict no-violence rule inside the walls, but outside, anything could happen. The vendors were probably the safest people on the planet because, generally, they spent every waking hour inside the walls.

  The vendors weren't stupid. They hired prowlers to lurk around Expo twenty-four hours a day. It was a shit job, being a prowler, but loners were willing to work for food or car parts when they didn't have anything to trade. There always seemed to be an abundant supply of people with nothing to lose.

  Jenny could hear the prowlers tearing the rotters apart, not more than a block away, cringing when she heard a scream far too human to be undead. She ran toward the sound of fighting. Rotters littered the ground. They had been old, frail. The prowlers had made short work of them as she had been cowering like an idiot. But one of the prowlers had gotten unlucky. He was sitting on the ground, two other prowlers holding him upright. He had a cloth stuffed over one of his hands, but blood was soaking through it. He lifted the rag to inspect the wound and Jenny could see that his pinkie finger had been nearly torn off. Blood spurted out of the wound and he quickly stuffed the cloth back over it, sucking air in through his teeth as he did so.

  The four other prowlers were busy pulling the zombies to the side of the road, away from the tall wooden fence that stood around Expo. Doing their jobs while the poor bastard sat bleeding to death. If he was lucky. If not, it would be a slow, agonizing death and then he'd turn. Jenny had seen it happen. It wasn't pretty.

  She crouched in front of him. One of the guys propping him up was talking.

  “I don't know, man. Maybe if we amputate your hand you'll be all right.”

  “Doesn't work that way,” Jenny said. “It's already in his system.” She looked at the bleeding guy. “You can feel it already, can't you? You're already infected. You can't stop it.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel it.” He kicked at the ground with a spiked black boot. “Fuck!”

  “Who the fuck are you?” said the other prowler. “I don't listen to no Righteous bitches.”

  “Hey, shithead,” she said, looking at him. “Why don't you go help these guys clean up. You're clearly too fucking stupid for this conversation.”

  He scrunched up his face in anger and reached for something in his ratty, dirty jeans but Jenny had her knife at his throat in an instant. “I've been busy, too,” she said. “This blade is covered in rotter blood. One scratch, motherfucker. You want to take that chance?”

  “Crazy bitch,” he said. But he stomped off, throwing her a dark look. She sat down next to the doomed prowler.

  “You ain't no Righteous,” he said through gritted teeth, “are you?”

  “No,” she said. She used her knife to tear a strip of fabric off a clean part of her dress. She handed it to him. He was wearing a leather jacket in the heat. Leather was thicker and could usually withstand even a young zombie's teeth. But it was hot as hell and he must have been dying in the thing. His hair was short and choppy, like he'd cut it off in chunks with a knife or a dull pair of scissors. He had a big metal ring through the middle of his nose like a bull. Jenny looked at the other prowler holding him up.

  “Hey,” she said. “Take a walk, would you? I want to talk to your friend.”

  “Fuck that,” said the guy. He had his hair in a ragged knot on the back of his head. Stringy, greasy strands of hair had fallen down and hung around his face. “We have to get him inside. Doc can fix him up.”

  Jenny looked at the injured man. “You know that's not true, right?” she said as gently as she could.

  He swallowed. “Yeah. I guess.” He looked at his friend. “Do what she says.”

  The last companion reluctantly joined the other prowlers, busy stacking bodies, occasionally glancing over, curious. The red bands they had tied around their arms seemed to glow in the sunlight. The strips of fabric identified them as prowlers instead of just common dregs. It let people know they were hired.

  “What's your name?” Jenny said.

  “They call me Bloody,” he said.

  “That's appropriate.” He almost smiled, but it came out a grimace.

  “It's a stupid nickname,” he said. “My real name's Adam.”

  “I'm Jenny. You got anyone, Adam?

  “No one,” he said, a hollow tone to his voice. “It's just me now.”

  “It's not going to be pleasant,” she said. “It's going to hurt.”

  “I know,” he said woodenly. “I seen it before. My girlfriend went last week.”

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “That sucks.”

  “And our son last year. I guess I've come full fucking circle.”

  “We all get there eventually,” she said. “Maybe the Righteous are right. Maybe there is a Heaven.”

  “You believe that?” he said.

  “I don't know,” she said. “From what I've seen, if Heaven's full of Righteous, I guess I don't want any part of it.”

  “Ain't nobody in this world could get into Heaven right now,” said Ada
m. “Every single one has done bad shit. Really, really bad things. But you know, everything I did was for them. And I did it as long as I could. I got nothing to protect any more. There ain't no point with nothing to protect, you know? Don't matter what it is, but you got to have something that gives you a purpose. I've lost everything. Ain't no point to me anymore.”

  “You have a choice,” said Jenny. “Slow or fast. Slow gets you killed by your friends over there. Fast gets you killed, too, but without long, drawn-out grand finale of vomiting and pain and helplessness.”

  Adam snorted. “Those aren't my friends.”

  “Whoever they are,” she said. “They'll kill you as soon as you turn. But no one's going to let you into Expo. Not with a bite like that. They have rules. So you won't get to the doc, you won't get a cozy bed, and you won't get anything for the pain. You'll die sitting right here. You might die of dehydration before the infection kills you.”

  “And the fast way?” he said. His eyes were green, Jenny saw. He had a tattoo of a rose in the middle of his throat that moved when he swallowed.

  “I think you know what the fast way is,” she said. “Either way, you're going to turn. But it won't be you any more.”

  “What if you do it?” he said. “You could just kill me like a rotter. Just pretend I'm one of them. One stab in the back of my head. Or up under my throat. You wouldn't even have to look at my face.” Tears were filling his green eyes. He blinked and wiped at his face with the back of his good hand. “I won't come back if you do it right.”

  “Could you do it?” she said. “If it was one of these guys, or me, or anyone living, could you do it?”

  Adam was quiet for a while. He frowned. “Once, someone tried to take my kid. It was right after the shit started hitting the fan and the whole world was going crazy. He ripped my boy right out of Larissa's arms and ran off with him. Guess he thought he'd get some money on the Black, or maybe he was just a fucking sick pervert. But I chased after him. He was scrawny as hell and he was panting when I caught up to him. He gave my son back to me. My one-year-old son was crying so hard his face was purple. Then I looked at the guy and I just shot him. I just fucking shot him while I was holding my son, and left him there. I didn't even think about it at the time. But that motherfucker has been in my dreams ever since. He deserved to die. He tried to steal my kid. My goddamn son. But now I can't forget him. I never have. It's been three years and I think about him every day.” He shook his head. “I've done it. Maybe I could do it again. But it ain't right to ask someone else to do it.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply through his mouth. “How should I do it?”

  “A few years ago I'd say, blow your brains out,” she said. “But I'm guessing you don't have a gun.”

  “That's why I'm here,” he said with a dry laugh. He wasn't leaning against her anymore. The blood from his hand seemed to be slowing. It still had to hurt like hell. “A guy inside said if I work this gig for a month, he'd give me an old pistol. Bullets, too.”

  “A month? As a prowler?” Jenny said. “No one prowls for that long.”

  He shrugged. “Not like I got anywhere to go.” He nodded at something on the ground by his feet. “Hand me that, would you?”

  Jenny picked up the blade, a sword replica that had been sharpened. It felt cheap, but it would do the job. It was black with slime, she guessed from the rotters. She wiped it on her already-disgusting dress and handed it to him.

  “I don't want you to see it,” he said, taking his blade.

  “Why?”

  “I don't know. You're the only one who's told me the truth in a long time. And you kind of remind me of her.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  “Larissa. She was sweet like you.”

  “I'm not sweet.”

  “Yeah you are. Promise to go inside. Don't watch.”

  Jenny nodded. “Okay, Adam.” She stood up.

  “Just tell me one thing,” he said. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Because I've been living with the Righteous for three days,” she said.

  “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

  “I'm looking for someone,” Jenny said. “Someone I left behind.”

  “Family?” said Adam.

  Jenny nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then you should do whatever you have to do to get them back.”

  “I will,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Adam. If there is a Heaven,” she smiled, “I'll see you in Hell.”

  He nodded. “Look me up when you get there.”

  TWO

  Jenny recognized the guys at the doors. Declan told her their names, but she'd forgotten immediately. They were built like brick buildings and worked hard to look mean, but when they saw Declan their faces broke into good-natured smiles. The Asian guy told Declan a horrifically dirty joke last time they'd been here. They had their mean faces on when Jenny walked through the opening in the fence.

  “Oy, Bible Girl,” said the ruddy white guy. “No weapons. Put it away.” Jenny scowled at him and his face lit up. “Jenny!” he said. “I didn't recognize you.”

  She lifted her skirt and sheathed the bowie knife.

  “Why the hell are you dressed like a Thumper?”

  “Long story,” she said. “Sully here?”

  “Sully's always here,” he said.

  “Seen Declan today?” she said.

  “Munro?” said the Asian guy. Jenny thought his name might be Kevin. The white guy was Todd, or Trevor, or Troy. Something with a T. “He comes every day, the sad bastard. Ain't seen him yet today.”

  “Why does he come every day?” she asked.

  White guy smiled. “Looking for you, stupid. Where you been?” He looked at the state of her dress, his eyes lingering on the dried blood. “Making friends, I see.”

  “Funny,” she said. “Can I go in?”

  “Fine,” said Kevin. “Don't talk to us. We're just the hired help. Isn't that right, Tyler?”

  Tyler. Of course his name was Tyler. Tyler laughed like that was the funniest thing he ever heard. Jenny rolled her eyes. “It's been a hell of a long day.”

  Tyler patted her on the back and nearly bowled her to the ground. “Go ahead, Jenny. We're just giving you a hard time. Shall we let madam know if her girlfriend arrives?”

  “Don't let Declan hear you calling him that,” Jenny said.

  “Munro? I can take him. Easy.” He frowned and looked past her. “What are those guys crowing about now?”

  “Lost one of their own, I'm guessing.” Jenny glanced over, but couldn't see through the crowd that had gathered around Adam's body. The prowlers were probably robbing him before he went cold.

  “Those rotters got him, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “They got him. I told him his choices. You know how it is.”

  “Aw shit, that's bad luck,” said Kevin. “He do it himself? That's the way I'd do it.”

  “I'd take care of it for you,” said Tyler.

  “You'd do that for me?” said Kevin.

  “Fuck yeah. I'd kill your ass in a heartbeat.”

  “Thanks, man,” said Kevin. “That means a lot.”

  “Jesus,” Jenny said. “I'm going in.”

  “I told you not to fall in love with us, Jenny,” Kevin called. She looked up at the sky. The sun was searing a downward path. She'd taken far too much time on foot. Time to find Sully. If it took her as long to get back to the tunnel as it took to get here, she could be in trouble.

  She headed into the insanity that was Expo. Some vendors had tables, others just spread their goods on the ground. For the most part, the folks who bartered professionally were older. Some had gotten hurt bad and couldn't cut it in the brave new world. A few were just tired of running. Expo was the one safe place in any given city. It was loud and busy and the amount of unwashed people in one place made it smell like a rancid swamp. But at least they were all people. There were no undead lurking around corners or limping down the streets in packs
. It was safe.

  The various vendor tents throughout Expo made it look a bit like a circus. The business up front was only part of what they did. You had to know what you were looking for and who to ask, but if you'd been around like Jenny had, it wasn't too hard to procure the more rare items. Declan had a guy who could get him old milk jugs full of diesel. Every Expo had a doc who could sew you up if you got hurt, and it was more than likely they'd never been a doctor before the Collapse.

  Jenny was only interested in information. Lucky for her, she had Sully for that. He almost always steered her right, except this time. There was something off about his intel about Casey. She wanted her brother back bad enough to accept a lot of things, but Sully had told her that he heard Casey was in Chicago. Then when she got to Chicago, Sully had shown up here and told her about the cult in the subway tunnel. She'd taken his line of bullshit about how he'd heard Chicago was booming for vendors because of how bad she wanted to find her brother. But she'd been in that tunnel for three days and hadn't seen or heard about Casey. She had a weird feeling in her gut that he was somewhere down there, but there was really nowhere else to look.

  She shouldered her way through the Heathens. A few people recognized her and nodded. Most just stared at her Righteous costume, covered in rotter guts. Someone was cooking over an open flame, something sloppy and greasy right out of a horror movie. A guy in a choppy Mohawk was sitting in the dirt with several wicked-looking motors spread out in front of him. Declan was always on the lookout for diesel converters and other various car parts. He was a genius with a motor. Jenny couldn't tell a carburetor from...well, from anything. If she didn't have Declan she would just walk everywhere. It took a hell of a lot longer to walk.

  An old lady with thick blue eyeliner leaned against her table glaring at anyone who stopped to look. Big cans were stacked like a pyramid in the middle, surrounded by snack cakes so filled with preservatives they never went bad, a few candy bars, a tattered box filled with cans of carrots and peas, packs of generic smokes, and something precious: a big plastic jug filled with jerky. From real meat. Jenny tried not to salivate. The old lady lit a cigarette as she approached and narrowed her eyes at Jenny through the blue smoke that rose in front of her face.