The icy prickles crawling up his arms let Rune know the dead were upset, but not yet able to communicate.
“I’ll suck you off. I’ll give you sex whenever you want it! I’ll even do anal! I can cook. Do your laundry! We can get some of those supplies and I can cook for you!”
Rune shrugged dismissively.
It was obvious from Becky’s shocked expression that had not been the response she’d been expecting.
Nearby, something let out a low, growling sound.
“One of those things is coming, Rune!”
“Well, I guess you better pick up that gun, huh?”
“You can’t leave me!”
Rune gave her a dismissive look. “Why shouldn’t I leave you?”
“Because there are others like her that will kill again,” a voice whispered in Rune’s ear, instantly freezing it.
Keeping the gun on the woman, Rune shivered under the onslaught of the ghostly presence. He believed in signs and messengers, but this was not one that was welcome. If he took the woman with him, he was committing himself to finding justice for the dead and saving the living. Rune was not a lawman, and didn’t want to deal with the mess before him. But what if this was why he was supposed to stay alive for so long? What if this was why his daughter had urged him to stay alive? Looking toward the station wagon, he wondered about the dead couple inside. They had obviously been good folks who had stopped to help people in need. Instead, they had been murdered.
A mangled creature stepped out of the trees just a few feet behind Becky. Rune shot it, making the girl jump, then holstered his gun.
“Get on,” he said gruffly.
She darted forward to grab the gun resting on the asphalt.
“Leave it.”
“But—”
“Leave it! You want my help? You want out of here? Then leave it and get on.”
Becky hurried over and started to climb behind him, but he scooted back and patted the seat in front of him. He did not want her arms around his chest near his weapons.
“Sit here, hands on the center of the handlebars. You don’t move them, or else I stop the bike and you’re walking.”
“But...but...I can be your woman,” she protested. She was scared and frantic, so her attempt to look seductive failed.
“Don’t need one. Get on.”
Rune flinched at the reek of blood and body odor clinging to the woman when she climbed onto the bike, but he had trouble not doing the right thing. Saving the woman was just a means to an end. Whether he liked it or not, he was now on a mission.
As he rode on, Rune glanced into the review mirror and saw a ghostly woman riding just behind him. She gave him a slight sad, encouraging smile.
Rune sighed.
It was time to find and fight the bad guys.
Chapter 13
The cafe was a mess. Tables were overturned, napkins and silverware littered the floor, broken glasses crunched under his boots, and blood smeared one window. Thankfully, that smear was on the outside. The bakery goods in the front counter were wiped out and a quick look at the chips display revealed they were gone, too.
“Hello!” Rune shouted loudly.
“Why are you making noise?” Becky whispered from behind him.
“It riles them up,” Rune answered.
A moan issued out from beyond the kitchen door.
“See?”
Becky nodded, trembling violently. She was coming down off of something and sweating profusely. Rivulets of perspiration cut white lines through the blood caked on her face.
Rune edged up to the doors to the kitchen and glanced in through the small window inset. A zombie that had once been a cook was meandering slowly around the big stainless steel island. Quickly assessing the situation, Rune slid a heavy hunting knife from the sheath in his boot.
“Hey, fuckers,” Rune called out again.
Something banged against the door to his right.
“I think something is in the shitter,” Becky whispered.
The doorknob was missing, effectively locking the creature inside.
“That one isn’t an issue,” Rune assured her. “Now, don’t move. Stay right there.”
Rubbing her arms, the shivering woman nodded. Some of her bravado had evaporated as the day wore on. Rune had given her the silent treatment and avoided answering her questions. The cafe along the old narrow highway had given him a good spot to stop and find out her true story. It sat off the road on an incline and would give him a good view of all the surrounding area except the rear of the building.
The zombie cook neared the door, shuffling its feet. A cleaver was buried in its neck and a steak knife stuck out of one eye. There was a bit of blood in the kitchen, so it was a sure bet it had been the spot of an intense struggle.
When the zombie was just about to reach the door, Rune kicked it in. The heavy metal door swung into the zombie, knocking it to the floor. Rune darted after it, planted a boot on its chest, pinning it, and hammered the blade of the knife into its face multiple times. A low gurgle emanated from its lips as it died one last time.
“Hey, shitbags!” Rune called out again.
Progressing cautiously around the island, Rune studied his surroundings. He knew he had to be cautious just in case a zombie didn’t have the vocal chords to answer. The throatless creatures were the most dangerous. They tended to be very, very quiet.
On the other side of the island a truly dead corpse was horribly decomposed. Its head was shattered, the brain missing. The meat locker was closed and Rune had no desire to open it. The whole place reeked already. During his travels he had noted that some parts of the state still had power, while others did not. He supposed it depended on which power station they were hooked to. The cafe was devoid of power. There was no chance of a hamburger.
A soft footstep drew his attention to the door. “You better not be moving, Becky.”
“Sorry. You were quiet, and I got scared.”
“I said don’t move.”
Rune smirked as he heard her swearing. The small kitchen was clear, so he wiped his knife off on a towel and slid it into its sheath. Glock in hand, he decided on his next move.
The zombie in the bathroom was still thrashing around, but Rune wasn’t worried about it. The storage room wasn’t picked clean, to his surprise, but then again, people were probably scared off by the zombie and just grabbed what they could. Rune grabbed a jar of peanut butter, a twelve pack of no-name soda, and a bin of crackers in cellophane and returned to the restaurant area.
Prodding a chair upright with his foot, Rune pointed at it. “Sit.”
Becky obeyed, her eyes on the food.
A large bottle of hand sanitizer was near the cash register and he grabbed that as well as a napkin dispenser. Setting both in front of Becky, he said, “Clean up.”
With shaking hands, she obeyed, pumping huge globs on a napkin then cleaning off her face, neck, arms and hands. Rune watched, his hand resting on his Glock. When she finished, he shoved the crackers toward her and opened the peanut butter.
“Scoop it out with the crackers.”
“It smells in here.”
“You need to eat. So do I. Eat.”
Becky didn’t argue again. Dragging the saltines through the peanut butter, she pulled gloppy heaps out of the jar and shoved them in her mouth. Rune pulled a warm can of soda free from the plastic rings and set it before her. Becky popped it open, then guzzled it down.
“You and I are going to have a conversation. You’re not going to lie, because if you do, I’ll know it.”
Becky’s eyes narrowed over the can of soda as she noisily gulped the liquid.
“First off, I know you and Joe planned to rip off that couple. I don’t know if actual murder was in the cards, but you would have ended up killing them anyway if you had stranded them.” Rune kept the Glock aimed at her as he helped himself to a few mouthfuls of food.
Becky finished drinking and threw the can to one side. Pick
ing up a cracker, she ate it plain. Her brown eyes narrowed on him as she chewed. “So? It’s survival of the fittest, right?”
Nodding, Rune agreed.
“We were trying to survive.”
“Just the two of you?”
Becky opened up another wrapper, fishing out the broken pieces of cracker.
“You’ve been nervous since I picked you up. Scared. I’ve seen it in your eyes. I also know you’re coming off something. I think you’re nervous because you and Joe were supposed to deliver the supplies in that station wagon to someone else.” Rune opened a soda and took a swig. It tasted like warm medicine, but the fizz helped him swallow the dry crackers and sticky peanut butter. “Am I right?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want in,” Rune lied.
Becky’s eyes widened just a smidgen.
“I’ve been on these roads since it all went to shit. I’ve done my share of killing and thieving. It’s dangerous to be on your own. I’d rather run with the pack.” Rune pointed to her violently shaking leg. “Plus, it looks like you got some of the good stuff.”
Pressing her lips together, Becky’s fingers fidgeted with her bloody, sticky hair. “They’re still cooking,” she said at last.
“I know the prime locations of some survivor camps. They got a shit-ton of supplies and ammo. I can’t take them myself, but if I can hook up with others...”
A crumb-coated tongue licked at her dry, pink lips. “We’re running low. That’s why Joe and I have been going out.”
“So we’ll go to your camp, right? You’ll introduce me.” Rune felt the icy touch of a ghost. He ignored it.
“You really think you can run with my crowd?” The hardness in her voice and face revealed her true black soul.
It chilled Rune to the bone.
“Yes, I can. But if I’m wasting my time, I’ll just shoot you and go.”
“You can’t kill me. I’m Martin Boyd’s sister!” The woman was shaking so badly now, her body was making the entire table wobble.
The name clicked in Rune’s head and his blood ran cold. Martin Boyd was the leader of a family gang that had run meth through Eastland County for years. The ring had been broken by the Texas Rangers, but apparently the Boyd gang had reunited in the wake of the zombocalypse. It figured that the only thing to truly survive an apocalyptic world would be cockroaches and the Boyds. And him, of course.
“The Boyds, huh?” Rune shifted in his chair. “I know old Alan Boyd from back in the day. He had a thing for Harleys and attended ROT a few times.”
“He’s dead. They ate him.” Becky scratched at her forearm. She was deeper into withdrawal now.
“Damn shame. That old mutha fucka was a hard ass.” Rune had met Alan on more than one occasion. They’d had a few beers and played some pool. Alan had considered Rune a pal. Rune had been wise enough not to piss off a major drug dealer. Alan would have vouched for him. It was a damn shame he’d fallen. Of course, Rune would have had to kill him, but it would have made his plans easier.
Becky just shrugged. “Are you carrying?”
“I’ve got nothing.”
Biting on her lip, she closed her eyes, tears forming along her lash line. “I’ll take you to our camp, but I can’t promise they won’t shoot you dead.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Can you cook? If you can, we can just go off together, you know. Just you and me. I can be your woman.”
Rune opened another soda. “Don’t want to go home?”
Rubbing her face furiously, she screamed with agitation.
“You killed the woman in the car without warning, didn’t ya?” Rune said in a calm voice. The ghostly presence was strengthening, pulling all the energy from the air.
Lifting her eyes toward the ceiling, Becky nodded. “I do what I have to, okay? Don’t you?”
“Put the lid on the peanut butter. We’ll leave it for the next sad souls who come through here.” Rune slid off his chair.
Becky obeyed, but eyed him warily. “I’ll vouch for you at the camp. I’ll tell them you killed the driver. That you saved me. Then I can be your woman.”
Something clicked in his head. “Joe was your old man, huh?”
Becky gave him a short nod as an answer.
“So you’re looking for a new protector.”
“Like I said, I do what I have to,” she said in a fierce voice.
“I thought no one would hurt you because Martin Boyd is your brother.”
“His camp is in Hill Country. I don’t even know where.”
The woman was breaking down right in front of him. Ravaged by withdrawal, despair, and a cold soul, she was losing the ability to form a coherent method to manipulate him.
“Okay. We’ll go to your camp, and I’ll do right by you.” Rune stood and motioned for her to stand and move toward the door.
Becky hesitated, her dark eyes regarding him through a mix of hope and withdrawal. “I can be a good girl, you know.”
Behind her, a woman’s shape shimmered, blood staining the faint wispy lines of her dress. A knife was wedged between her ribs, piercing her heart.
“I know you can be,” Rune said after a long moment. “Now let’s go.”
Chapter 14
The Boyds, like cockroaches, had a thing for dumps apparently. Rune straddled his bike, gazing through his binoculars at the camp made out of a small salvage yard. It spread out on a barren bit of land surrounded by scrub brush and flat land. Only the occasional cluster of trees and brush broke up the landscape. Old cars were piled up along the interior of a hurricane fence. Metal sheets were welded to the fence, adding extra protection. An RV, two campers, and the main office made up the living quarters. To his surprise, three military vehicles were parked near the front gate. Despite the heat, a fire was steadily burning in the center of the camp, two figures bent over the pots hanging over the flames.
Becky leaned against the mesquite tree they were parked under. Her fingers plucked at the tree bark, her mouth working into odd shapes. She wasn’t doing too well. Sleep had claimed her more than once on the road and she had woken up screaming. Rune had been annoyed, but he needed her. The West Texas roads were surprisingly clear of zombies, but somehow that didn’t sit quite right with Rune. There were plenty of discarded cars, empty towns, and corpses strewn along the roads, yet, the zombies were not to be seen.
“I see five men,” Rune said finally.
“Brant and Teddy are probably cooking,” she answered in a monotone.
So there were seven men.
“Where’s the women and children?” Rune asked.
“Dead. Gone. Eaten.” Becky shrugged.
“You were the only woman in camp?”
Becky finally looked at him. “They’re kin. They weren’t touching me. They find other women. Joe wasn’t family, but was solid with the gang. He took care of me and made sure they didn’t make me do all the damn work around the place, okay?”
Rune sensed that she was finally telling him the whole truth. “I was just wondering.”
Snorting, she shook her head. “Can we go down now? I’m...I need...”
Don’t trust her.
Tilting his head to one side, Rune saw the ghostly outline of the woman Becky had murdered.
She’ll have them kill you.
“I just wonder where all the damn zombies are,” Rune said aloud, his eyes set straight onto the ghost.
“Around,” Becky answered, shrugging.
The National Guard camp was overrun. A horde swept through it and killed most of the people. I escaped from there with my husband.
“There any military camps around here?” Rune pulled out a map. “I don’t want to run into any trouble with them.”
Becky appeared to be half-asleep, her head resting against the trunk.
Withdrawal, Rune thought, is a bitch.
It’s five miles north of here.
Rune flinched as a drop of blood fell onto the map,
making a spot. The phantom droplet then faded away. At least the ghost was being more helpful than some of them were in the past.
Glancing over at the snoozing woman, Rune considered leaving her asleep, but then changed his mind.
“Becky,” he said sharply.
She instantly roused.
“Get on. We’re going for a ride.”
“I want to go home,” she complained.
“Get on or I’m leaving you,” he said in a dark, menacing voice.
She obeyed.
Rune rode along some dirt roads until coming to a highway that would lead to the location the ghost had marked on his map. Becky slept in his arms, her head heavily resting on his shoulder, tilted back, and mouth gaping open. Rune was glad the wind was tearing away her rank breath. The anger that had been slowly brewing inside of him since he had discovered at the scene of her crime was starting to reach a boiling point. She was a murderer, an opportunist, and a predator, yet at some point she had been someone’s little girl. Had she been cherished and loved? Or abused? And in the end, did it matter if she had been handed a bad lot in life? Should he excuse the murderous woman in his arms? Give her a second chance?
“I ain’t Jesus Christ,” Rune muttered under his breath.
The hot wind tore at his face and hair as he swept around a long curve in the road. Fading signs announced a rescue center up ahead. Cars were discarded along the side of the road, probably empty of gas. The cars were picked clean of possessions, he noted.
Through the shimmering heat waves, Rune saw the ruined perimeter of the camp and the flapping edges of the tents. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand zombies stood silently among the destruction.
Rune brought the bike to sharp stop, holding onto Becky so she didn’t fall off.
They came at night. Drove through the fence, my husband said. Then the zombies poured in. We had to climb over the barbed wire fence to escape. We barely made it to the car. They’ve been picking off survivors, group by group.
The ghost stood next to his bike staring at the camp. She was growing adept at materializing. Rune could see now she had been a young woman with chestnut brown hair. The baggy dress she wore was obviously not her size and hung limply on her thin frame. With a sick knot in his gut, Rune realized she’d been pregnant.
As The World Dies Untold Tales Volume 3 Page 8