The Undead World (Book 8): The Apocalypse Executioner

by Peter Meredith

  “Lights out, okay? Lights out?” he begged as he groaned his way to the edge of the boat.

  “Yeah, lights out,” Jillybean said. Haigh was shaking all over as he stood at the railing, leaning on it with most of his weight. His lip trembled and he had his eyelids crimped shut as hard as he could.

  This time, Jillybean took careful aim even though she was only two feet away. When she pulled the trigger, Haigh flopped into the water, causing the monsters around the boat to go nuts, thrashing like crazy. The other guard began to whimper.

  “Colonel?” Jillybean asked. He refused to look up. “My name is Jillybean.” She paused waiting for any response, but he kept his face down showing the thinness of his hair at the top of his skull. She shrugged. “And his name is Neil Martin. He is the Governor of Estes Valley.”

  “I don’t care,” was his only answer.

  “I’ll shoot you right there.” He shrugged and the other guard just quivered like a jello. She glanced at Neil and he sighed as he had been. It was an uncommitted sound as if he were waiting for her to do something; as if he were waiting for her to take charge…or for her to take the blame.

  For a moment, the bile built up in her stomach until the burn was more than she could take, but then she swallowed once and it was gone. Just like that, the cold covered her more completely than ever. She had a job to do, one she wished could be passed to someone else, a grown-up, perhaps. Neil, perhaps.

  But Neil hadn’t recovered from the death of Haigh. His eyes went to the body as it floated face down. Jillybean could tell he was about to cry—she was about to cry. Deep down, a part of her was crying over what she had to do.

  This time she didn’t waste bullets; they were too precious. She shot the guard in the back of the head. He flopped like a slab of rubber and was a bitch to drag off the boat because of his great weight.

  “Not like this,” the Colonel muttered. He wasn’t talking to Jillybean. He was addressing fate or God. “I can’t die like this.” Jillybean proved him wrong a moment later.

  Chapter 34

  Captain Grey

  At the moment, Jillybean put a bullet in the Colonel’s head, the ferry-turned freighter was slipping into a mooring channel next to the western bank of the Mississippi. They came to a rest about a hundred yards from the current bridge at Cape Girardeau. It was an incomplete string of floating pontoons stretching across the water.

  Every hundred feet or so, there were gaps to let the zombies float by. These gaps were created by partially unchaining a few of the pontoons so that they slid back, pushed by the current.

  Beyond the pontoons were two monuments to a seven-year-old’s fury. The crumbling remains of the original bridge jutted up out of the water, and then, further on, barely visible in the darkness, was the ass end of the River King’s barge that Jillybean had destroyed.

  Sadie marveled at the sight. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen the boat,” she said. “And this is the closest I’ve come to the bridge. I heard the stories, but they are nothing compared to being so close. I…I kinda wish she were here, now.”

  “For your sake, I do too,” Grey answered. “But if it was just me, I’d rather that she be far away. She doesn’t need this.”

  They went quiet as one of the guards came by, checking their cuffs and then checking the perimeter of the boat. The guards were very careful and had been during the two day trip. The ferry had moved down the river at a snail’s pace. Many times, when there were too many zombies around, they turned off the engines and drifted with the current.

  Even when they found long stretches of the river relatively open, they didn’t rev the engines and fly down the waterway. There were too many obstructions hidden beneath the black surface of the river for them to do anything so foolish.

  Grey was impressed with how careful and prudent the boat’s captain was. He always had a sharp-eyed guard up front, keeping watch, just as there were always guards staring intently at the banks.

  According to the talk on board, there were thousands of bandits operating between Rock Island and Cape Girardeau, just like there were thousands between New York and Rock Island and thousands more between Cape Girardeau and the Estes Valley. With certain valuable items becoming more and more scarce, banditry was a growing profession.

  They preyed on anything that moved, including each other. It made travel by boat one of the safest ways to go; only a fool or someone desperate would ever dare swimming the Mississippi. Grey had been in the river once, jumping off a bridge with Deanna to avoid capture. It had been a horror he hoped never to have to repeat.

  When they reached Cape Girardeau, it was still full dark and men on shore with flashlights guided the captain into position. His skill at handling the ungainly barge was such that they docked with all the violence of a gentle kiss. Just like that, the guards switched from watching all sides to concentrating solely on the shore and the dock. Some even crouched behind the pallets with their weapons trained outward—there was no love lost between the Colonel and the River King. They were rivals for the east-west bound traffic. And yet, they were also, out of necessity, trading partners.

  But that didn’t mean there was an iota of trust between them. Unarmed men from the bank came down the dock with their hands up. As the new slaves watched and listened, there was a brief discussion between the captain of the boat and the “Trade Master” of Cape Girardeau.

  They talked about the load they were carrying in very dry terms: “Eighteen hundred pounds of cord wood, three hundred pounds of coal…” And so on until they came to the seven prisoners. “…five male slaves, one female and a bounty.”

  “Who is it?” the Trade Master asked with more than a hint of interest in his voice.

  The captain walked around the pallets and shone a light down on the slaves. “His name is Grey. Supposedly, he was part of the team that did that.” He stretched out a long arm to point at the ruins of the bridge.

  “I remember him, yes,” the Trade Master said the anger palpable in his voice. “And, who is this?” The light shifted from Grey to Sadie, who squinched her face and turned away. “Don’t be like that, darlin’, it just makes everything more difficult. Now there’s a good gir…”

  He broke off in mid-word and gaped for a moment before recovering. “She’s, uh young. Good. Young is good.” The anger was gone and, to Grey, he was suspiciously neutral in his tone. The Trade Master had recognized Sadie.

  The captain had heard the stumble, but didn’t attach the correct importance to it. “She’s sixteen,” he said. “Very nubile and untouched by the general population.” By this Grey guessed it meant she hadn’t been used as a whore.

  “Also good,” the Trade Master said, though this time he spoke with even less enthusiasm as if he was losing interest in Sadie. His intense gaze told a different story, however. “I could do, I don’t know, maybe three thousand for her. She’s cute, but a little scrawny. The bounty for Grey is also three thousand, I think. I’ll have to check on that. And I can give you two hundred a piece for the others, for a grand total of seven thousand.”

  Adding body language to the conversation, the captain took a defiant stance, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been told to accept nothing less than ten thousand for the lot of them. I don’t know if you realize it, but those soldiers are soldiers of the Valley. They’re in top physical condition, and, if the rumors are true, they’re the best fighters in the world. And the girl cleans up well, and she’s young. You really can’t tell with the way she’s bundled up, but she’s really a fine-looking girl.”

  “But she’s not worth ten thousand,” the Trade Master insisted, “not even half that. Maybe I could go thirty-five hundred if she’s got a nice rack.”

  “Thirty-five hundred for her is fair,” the captain agreed, “but I still can’t accept less than ten thousand for the group. This Grey is an officer, and like the others is a soldier of the Valley. The Colonel believes that if we get anything less than ten thousand, it would be
better to send them back to the Valley.”

  The Trade Master gave him a sharp look. “Do you mean to ransom them back? Will they really pay that much for a few soldiers?”

  “Unlikely, but we wouldn’t be selling them back, we would just give them back. The Colonel feels it would go a long way to cementing a proper relationship between our two peoples. Perhaps it would be the basis of an alliance, I don’t know, but it would definitely go a long way to creating an exclusive trade and passage agreement. That right there is worth far more than ten thousand.”

  A shrug from the Trade Master suggested he didn’t think so. “Maybe, but either way I can’t authorize that amount. I’ll have to talk to the River King, personally. We’ll catalogue the rest of the goods tonight and I should be able to have an answer by morning.”

  This meant another cold night shivering on deck for the slaves, but it helped that they had some tiny hope that they might be released by the Colonel.

  The little group of slaves prayed fervently, holding hands as the Trade Master’s men inspected every inch of the boat, watched by the guards, who were extra attentive, not willing to risk any last moment loss in their profits.

  No one got much sleep and in the morning, the slaves sat on the flat deck, shivering and watching the steam lift off the captain’s mug as he waited on the return of the Trade Master.

  “I don’t understand your bargaining position,” Grey said to him. “I offered almost the same thing to the Colonel. We could have cemented a very promising relationship three days ago. Both of our societies are mainly made up of soldiers, after all.”

  The captain blew on his mug for a moment, never taking his eyes from the city of Cape Girardeau. After a sip, he said: “We don’t need an alliance with you fucks. Especially now that you have so many enemies. And as for trade and passage, who else are you going to turn to?” He lifted his mug toward the remaining pillars of the old bridge. “You literally burned your last bridge, so all you have is us. No, all of that was a smoke screen to get a better price.”

  This sent their spirits plummeting and more than one of the soldiers blinked back tears and didn’t show any of their normal grit. “Let’s look alive,” Grey said in a savage whisper. “We aren’t done yet. I want to see a little fire in you men. You’ll need it when the time comes.”

  Almost soon as he said this the River King showed up in person, as small, lithe and deadly as always. The slaves were ordered to their feet and told to stand straight. There was no need for anyone to order Sadie. She stood like a queen with her dark eyes flashing.

  The River King barely gave a look in her direction. He went down the line of slaves to stand in front of Grey. “You look unwell, Captain. Not quite the robust hero that I remember.”

  “I’m fine,” he answered, and in a way, that wasn’t a lie. Despite the cold and the wretched conditions, he didn’t feel nearly as bad as he had before they had left on the mission.

  “We’ll see about that,” the king said. Turning to the captain of the barge, he smiled without any mirth or kindness. It was the smile a fox gives to a rabbit. “My Trade Master told me that you threatened to release these…people, back to the Valley.”

  “Yes, your Highness. It is an option that the Colonel is seriously considering.”

  The River King laughed loudly causing the zombies in the water to thrash. “Oh my. I had a good chuckle when he told me, but it’s much funnier in person.”

  “It’s not a joke,” the captain said through pursed lips.

  “Well, then that’s just sad. You must not know what goody-two-shoes the people of the Valley are. They would never ally themselves with your boss. The idea is sheer idiocy. And I’m not all that worried about you getting exclusive trade rights. They don’t have anything to trade and even if they did, for the most part they’re too chicken to come out of their little mountain paradise. They’ll trade with anyone just so long as you go to them. I’ll give you eight thousand for the lot. That is my final price.”

  The captain appeared to deflate. His defiant stance wilted and his face drew downwards. He opened his mouth to answer but before he could Sadie spoke out: “If you let these soldiers go I’ll make it worth your while…your highness.”

  The two, so obviously father and daughter, stared hard at each other in a battle of wills. The anger and the hatred seemed equal between them and seemed to grow, but then the king smiled, toothily. “I might want to hear this,” he said to the captain, tipping him a lewd wink. He ambled over to the girl who was not three inches shorter and leaned in close.

  “Free them or I’ll tell the boat captain who I am,” she whispered into his ear, matching his smile tooth for tooth. “What do you think the price will be then?”

  “Such a child,” he answered, snorting out a quiet laugh of contempt. “And how will that work, exactly? Will they remain on the boat? How long do you think they’ll be free once the boat leaves? Or do you want them to walk straight through my city alone and unarmed? Do you really trust me to just let them leave once I’ve concluded my deal here? And even if they did get away, how long will they last against every bounty hunter in Missouri?”

  He was about to go on when the captain, a lusty leer on his face, called out: “What’s she offering?”

  “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” the King replied before leaning into Sadie once more. “Here’s my counterproposal: say anything at all and you’ll regret it and your friends will regret it. They’ll bleed and scream because of you and I’ll make you watch. That’s a promise.”

  “So?” the captain of the boat called out, his growing impatience obvious.

  “So what?” the King shot right back, turning from Sadie. “The girl was hardly inventive. My offer of eight thousand stands, take it or leave it.” He walked to the gangplank and gracefully stepped along it without fear of falling.

  Grey glanced at Sadie and saw the tears in her eyes. Others probably mistook them for sadness. She wasn’t sad. She was enraged. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”

  Although Grey was thinking the exact same thoughts and a vein pulsed in his neck with the intensity of his anger, he advised: “Keep your cool. Bide your time and don’t give away your hand. If you get the chance, take it. If not, live to fight another day. That goes the same for all of you. Remember your mission: escape and evade.”

  Unfortunately, there was no chance at escape. The dickering over the price of the prisoners gave way to dickering over the rest of the merchandise and it was after noon before a deal was reached. In all that time, the prisoners were carefully guarded.

  They were even moved to the center of the barge, perhaps as a precaution against one of them jumping into the river. If Grey knew what the River King had in store for them, he might have considered it. But he didn’t find out until the deals were struck and the slaves marched into the center of the fortified base.

  In the months since he and Sadie had escaped, the walls had been pushed back to encompass more of the town, including a once open field. It was now arranged with bleachers circling a raised stage and in the center of the stage was a metal cage. It was a fighting cage. The seven prisoners were shoved through the single door.

  “Don’t expect us to fight each other,” Grey said to the Trade Master as he locked the door. “It’ll never happen. I’d order my men to strangle me before I lifted a finger to harm them.”

  “Your days of fighting are over, my friend,” the man answered and then walked away, leaving the seven alone, except for two guards who stood at opposite sides of the cage, well back from the bars.

  “What did he mean by that?” Lieutenant Wilson asked. Grey guessed it meant he’d be executed, probably in some public fashion, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He only shrugged and tried to pretend he didn’t feel the fear crawling in his belly like a giant worm.

  Wilson, who was pale and had a jitter going in one eye, wanted an answer and asked the guard the same question. “I don’t know,” th
e man said, “and if I did know I wouldn’t tell you, because I ain’t allowed to talk to you.”

  The guard, a ferret-faced man who squinted at everything, stood for a moment with his slits aimed up at the sky before adding: “But if I could talk to you, I’d tell you to start praying real fast.”

  The soldiers glanced from one to another until PFC Keene said: “But we didn’t do anything to you guys.”

  Ferret-face stepped closer to the bars and whispered: “That’s not what I heard. I heard you were the punks what blew up our bridge. That’s what everyone’s been saying. So, did you do it?”

  “They had nothing to do with it,” Grey said. “It was just me.” If the River King needed a scapegoat, Grey would be that man if it meant allowing the others to go free.

  At Grey’s confession, the guard made a face and blew out a short note of disgust. “They’s gonna do some bad stuff to you, my man. I’m talking real nasty…” He clammed up as the River King led a twenty person entourage through an opening in the bleachers. Behind them was a veritable parade of people.

  Hundreds of people followed and when they got through the opening, they dashed for the best seats. As the improvised stadium filled, the River King went to the front of the stage where there was a small podium. He didn’t look back at his prisoners.

  Soon the place was filled, packed with at least two-thousand people. There was an excited buzz in the air that made Grey’s pulse race. They were eager for a show and eager for blood. The people of Cape Girardeau had been living off blood sports for a year now and their appetite was just getting wetted.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the River King’s voice boomed over a dozen loudspeakers. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice. This is a very important day for us. Today is the day we finally get some revenge!” He screamed the word so that it could be heard from one end of the base to the other.