Zombie Reign (Book 4): Redemption

by Joseph Edward

  Kyle had brought a ladder down the side to help aide in getting everyone back up. As Nicholas made his way, his father was quick on his heels climbing upward close behind. The severed limb was still grasped to his ankle and was dangling before it shook loose and struck Steve on the head as he climbed the ladder behind his boy.

  I was trying to make my way to the ladder when I heard another scream over the sound of gunfire. As I turned to look, I saw another female runner coming towards me. Like the young man before her, she appeared to have come from the lake as well. She was completely nude, her pale skin almost transparent, and I was hoping that her condition was not distracting Eric enough that he couldn’t get off a kill shot. As soon as I heard him yell “RELOADING!” I knew that I was screwed.

  I reached for my Glock, but the holster was empty. My first instinct was to find it, but a quick scan of the ground proved to be futile given the amount of carnage around me. I readied my tomahawk and hoped for the best, as she screeched and lunged towards me. I knew that I was on my own – she was too close to me for anyone covering me to get a clear shot by this point.

  She came at me with arms outstretched and stumbled, landing face down into the open abdominal cavity of one the zombies in the pile. I was trying to make my way backwards to the ladder as she began pushing herself up, with her face now covered in a blackish slime and some internal organ snagged on her jaw. She bit down as she stood up, freeing the rotting piece of flesh, which slid down and over her breasts like a wet steak sliding down a window pane.

  I readied myself for her next attack when I felt the tug at my leg. It was the zombie who had grabbed Nicholas, which had used the stump of an arm that was left to help free the other limb. I could now make out a face, which was only half there, as the bottom jaw was completely removed. The zombie may have a grip, but the worst I was going to get was a good licking from him.

  My date with the runner wasn’t done yet, and I turned my attention back to her. Like the one before her, she now leapt towards me with arms stretched out wide for the catch. I pivoted to my left, swinging the tomahawk across as I brushed her arms away and to the side. I connected with the breaching side of my blade, shattering through her temple and extinguishing the yellow glow in her eyes.

  I had just pulled my tomahawk from the hole in her skull when I felt a scrape along the back of my heel. I looked down to see the zombie that had my leg trying to take a chunk out of my boot with the only good half of his bite that was left. I shook my leg free and turned, stomping down on his forehead. The brittle skull caved in, resulting in my foot being enveloped in blackish goo and grey brain matter.

  “We got more coming!” Eric yelled as he resumed firing over my head.

  I was desperately searching for my Glock as Steve and Kyle were yelling at me to get up the ladder. Keeping your footing on a pile of decaying carcasses is no easy task, let me tell you. If you could imagine being in a bounce house as a kid, but the entire thing had been rubbed down with vaseline, then you have a pretty good idea. As I glanced out into the distance, I could see that there were more zombies making their way. I had to come to grips with the fact that my sidearm wasn’t retrievable – for now.

  I hurried up the ladder and pulled it up after me, handing it over to Kyle who put it back on the opposite side to allow more shooters to join us. Bullets were flying as I turned around to see a few more runners getting dropped just short of our vantage point. I continued to scan the ground below for my Glock, refusing to retreat into the compound without it. Suddenly, there it was. Sitting on the back of a beheaded corpse, atop a blood soaked hoodie. I scanned the horizon in order to ensure there were no fast runners approaching and yelled out that I had found my gun.

  It was then that I saw “it”.

  Out on the horizon, just inside the tree line, was a pair of yellow eyes. Their gaze was locked into our position and stared with an intensity not unlike the rest of the undead, but was lacking the sense of urgency that was so common of those seeking human flesh. Before I could bring it to the attention of the group, something bizarre happened.

  It turned and walked away.

  The undead had hypersensitive sight, which meant that if this creature had seen us it should have come towards us. There was nothing I observed that would have stolen its attention from us. Yet, just like that, it turned away and disappeared from sight.

  “What is it?” asked Kyle as he was reloading.

  “I’m not sure,” I responded as I continued my gaze in an attempt to lure the creature back out.

  I hopped down and scrambled to retrieve my Glock, never taking my eyes off of the tree line. There was a feeling that we were being watched, and that was scarier than being outright attacked. Had the zombies evolved into methodical hunters instead of simply a herd looking to feed?

  I quickly retrieved my sidearm, holstering it as I made my way back up to the side of the platform, aided by Steve who thanked me for helping him rescue Nicholas. The zombie herd was being thinned out and was much more manageable without any additional runners.

  “Thanks,” Steve said as he helped hoist me back up.

  “No problem,” I replied, “gotta go get this gun cleaned now. I trust the Glock to fire under a lot of circumstances, but I’m sure it wasn’t field tested after being thrown about and submerged in human remains.”

  Eric was the only one who laughed at my dark humor as I made my way back into the compound. The hair on the back of my neck bristled as if something was going to charge me from behind. As I glanced back to the kids resuming their weapons practice, I hoped that whatever it was that I had seen would stay where it was – for all of our sakes.

  Chapter 5 – Hunters and Collectors

  I entered the makeshift armory and took my handgun over to the wash basin, giving it a thorough soaking and scrubbing it with a caustic solution containing a basic combination of water and bleach. I broke the weapon down before rinsing it off, after which it received a thorough cleaning and oiling.

  “Rough day on the training line?” Tommy asked as came into the room.

  “Could have been worse,” I said as I ran some oil across the recoil spring, “but it sure could have been better. I never thought I would say this, but I really miss the days of going to the range and plinking off rounds at paper targets.”

  “Yeah,” Andrew added as he joined us, “and always looking forward to the change of seasons. I especially miss the fall and looking forward to the season premiere of The Walking Dead! It was so much better as fiction and aren’t living it. On the bright side, they may have had a Daryl Dixon but we have a Tommy Watson!”

  “Fuckin’ right,” Tommy said as he gripped and lifted his AR.

  “Speaking of the Walking Dead, there’s some ‘stuff and things’ I wanted to ask you about.”

  “What?” Tommy and Andrew replied in unison.

  “What was that manual referring to when it was talking about a controller? I need to know more specifics on what they were talking about.”

  Tommy and Andrew looked at each other with that not-so-subtle operative glance that told me I was going to get the “unclassified” version of events. Andrew was the first to reply.

  “They have what can be described as an immunity of sorts,” Andrew replied as he looked back at the doorway to ensure that our conversation was private, “but it’s much more than that. Once they acquire the virus, they have the ability to somehow communicate with those who are infected.”

  “What we know from the original intel,” Tommy continued as he closed the distance between us and lowered his normally boisterous and abrasive tone, “is that there are certain subjects who, when they contract the virus, become the undead and are cognizant of the change. The trouble is, these individuals also become somewhat immortal. They don’t decompose, they regenerate any physical damage they sustain and can only be destroyed by fire.”

  “By fire,” I said thoroughly confused, “you mean like a vampire or a Terminator?”

&n
bsp; “No,” Tommy said, “like destroy all of their fucking the molecules kind of fire!”

  “So technically,” Andrew replied, “like killing a vampire or Terminator.”

  “Except they aren’t real like the controllers,” Tommy said.

  “And they have the same physical characteristics as a zombie for the most part?” I asked.

  “If you mean the glowing eyes and the whole dead looking skin thing,” Tommy replied with repulsiveness, “then yes.”

  “How many of these controllers were there? Are there any you know of?”

  “We don’t really know,” Andrew said as he looked over to Tommy for affirmation, “both sides were rumored to have identified the genome that supports the mutation, but whether or not there is one out there -”

  “There is,” I interrupted as I finished the reassembly of my Glock, “and I’ve seen it.”

  Andrew immediately walked over to the door and peered out into the hallway before shutting the door. It appeared that Tommy was getting louder than he had anticipated or wanted during this discussion, or maybe it was my last comment.

  “What did you just say?” he asked.

  Yep, it was my comment.

  “I said that I saw one.”

  “Bullshit,” Tommy said as he moved towards me and got right into my face, “where was it?”

  “Oh, I get it now,” I replied as I pushed Tommy back away from me, “the burning down of my house and my wife’s remains, the nuking of your house – all to make sure that you destroyed any possible controllers! Am I right? You thought that Kate was one of your test subjects? Is that what the Judge was?”

  “No,” Tommy replied as he took a deep breath to calm himself and took a step back, “it’s not like that. I did what I had to do, simple as that.”

  “You think you saw one?” Andrew asked.

  “It was out past those runners we were clearing,” I began to explain as I glared at Tommy, “along the tree line. It looked like one of them, physically, but didn’t act like what you’d expect from a zombie.”

  “What do you mean?” Tommy asked as his glance bounced from me to Andrew.

  “I mean that it was just staring. It was as if it was surveying our compound and what we were doing. It wasn’t moving in to attack. It just stood there for a moment and watched before turning away and disappearing into the woods.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe it got attracted to something else,” Andrew replied.

  “No,” I answered, “there wasn’t anything else. What would have been a bigger attention getter to a zombie than a group of people shooting off rounds from a compound?”

  “Maybe they’re evolving,” Tommy interjected, “it could have sensed the futility in attacking and decided to try another strategy.”

  “Impossible,” Andrew responded, “they are driven to feed and, by all accounts, don’t suppress their appetite for anything.”

  “But they are adapting,” I added, “which should concern us. There was a runner who actually jumped and was much more agile than the average zombie – even for a runner. It’s almost as if someone is directing them – training them – to adapt and overcome.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door. Tommy answered the door and it was Karen. She was looking for us, as we were scheduled to travel onto the mainland to scavenge for supplies. Food reserves were decent, but items such as toiletries and medications were in demand. It was time for a supply run and we needed to be as productive as possible before winter hit.

  We all nodded to one another and didn’t speak another word in the hopes that Karen wouldn’t inquire into what we were discussing behind closed doors. I holstered my weapon and moved towards the doorway to follow Tommy and Andrew into the hall.

  “Griff,” Karen said as she pulled my arm, holding me back as Tommy and Andrew continued on, “what were you guys talking about? It seemed pretty serious from the looks on your faces when I came in.”

  “It was nothing,” I said as I brushed her grip aside and continued walking along, “we were just discussing how the runners appear to be evolving. We don’t know how, or why, but they are.”

  “And you needed to be behind closed doors for this discussion?” Karen asked with an overtone of disbelief, “thank you for the update of the obvious. I get the hint.”

  “It’s not like that,” I began as I was trying to save face.

  “Oh, it is like that,” said Tommy said over his shoulder back to where we were, “and leave it like that.”

  Karen stomped off, obviously upset with the fact that we didn’t share the information with her. For some reason Tommy wasn’t a big fan of her rainbow scent and made no effort to soften his rough edges around her.

  We came outside and into the courtyard, where Elly and Phil were checking their gear. They were with an eclectic mix of armed personnel, as well as several canines that were all too eager to get moving and begin their work. Waiting there with them were Tool, Jamie, Eric and Justin.

  “Here’s the deal,” Steve began as he addressed the assembly, “we all know to expect the unexpected when it comes to Michigan winters,”

  “Hey, he said my name!” Eric yelled out.

  “He meant the season, jackass!” Tommy snapped back.

  “Are you guys done yet?” Steve shouted out to the both of them, followed by a moment of awkward silence, “but between the harsh winter and the zombie threat, we need to make sure that we have enough food and supplies to make it through the spring and into summer. We need to stock up on everything, but please focus on medicines and medical supplies. These seem to be the supplies that are used up the quickest and also the hardest to keep in good supply.”

  I slid my hand over my pocket, comforted that I had an ample supply of painkillers on hand. I looked over to see Jeff lighting another cigarette, almost as if he was sending a subtle message on his top choice of additions for our grocery list.

  “Elly and Phil will lead team one. They will be traveling by boat over to Canada with the canines to recon the area and gather any supplies available. Griff and Tommy will lead team two, which will be traveling north into Marine City and Port Huron to forage supplies there.”

  “Excuse me,” Eric yelled out as he held his hand up like a kindergartner in class asking to use the bathroom, “can I go with team one?”

  “No, you’ll be with team two.” Steve replied.

  “Okay,” Eric replied with a sheepish look on his face, “but I would really like to trade with someone if at all possible. Nothing against my boys here, but Canada has some awesome beer and I would really like the opportunity to go with that team.”

  “Request denied.” Steve said without missing a beat.

  “Then can I make a request?” Eric asked, interrupting yet again with his arm extended into the air.

  “No!” was the resounding reply in unison (from both teams respectively).

  “Please focus on the following,” Steve continued as he glared at Eric and rattled off a list of the most needed supplies. Insulin was at a premium, with antibiotics taking up a close second. Over the counter drugs and prescription painkillers were a common staple. Canned goods and other non-perishables were also in demand. We were advised that we were to be back by nightfall and then excused to be transported to the docks where boats had been prepped for our mission.

  Tommy and I would be leading team two, along with Eric, Justin, Tool and Jamie. We were given a decent sized boat with which to travel up northward and Justin had prepared all of our gear. We had a nice assortment of weaponry and ammo, but what really stood out was a small backpack of various optical attachments for our weapons.

  Once we had the boat loaded up for the trip, Tool took us out onto the bay as we made our way north. Eric made one last effort to have his voice heard, yelling over to Elly and team one not to forget about the beer. It was a good thing we were separated from them by a good amount of water, as the barking coming from the canines towards our boat led me to believe that the hounds wo
uld have been unleashed on Eric had we been on land. A couple of times I could have sworn that she held them back from jumping overboard and making an amphibious assault on our unruly passenger.

  Justin reminded me of a street vendor peddling his goods as he emptied the backpack onto the deck and began showing off his newest creations. He had us grab all of our weapons and hand them off to each other, passing them around like a game of hot potato. He made sure that before we passed each weapon on, we held onto the grips with both our strong and weak hand. Once we were done, we were amazed as he plugged each on into a mini USB he had connected to a netbook he had with him.

  Not one of us realized that there were now USB connections on our weapons. You would think that, as attached as we were to those lifelines, we would have noticed that. Nope.

  Justin was like an assembly line. He asked for a weapon, you handed it to him - he plugged it in, hit enter on the keyboard and unplugged it. Wash, rinse, repeat. When it came time for Tommy to give up his gear, he refused.

  “How the fuck did you get your hands on my gear?” He asked of Justin.

  “What difference, at this point, does it make? Trust me, you’ll need what I’m programming into it,” Justin replied, “It’s guaranteed to save your life.”

  “Nobody mods my shit but me, you fucking boot!” Tommy snapped back.

  “Fine,” Justin retorted, “but everyone else now has their weapons programmed to only fire when someone in our group is handling them.”

  “And why is that a good idea?” Tommy asked as he grasped his long gun protectively like a newborn baby.

  “Well, after the incident with the Judge and his men, I figured I needed to work on an internal security system in the weapons that would keep them from being used against us. If we are ever disarmed again, the weapons we give up will be useless to anyone but us. This goes without repeating again, but it really could save your life Tommy. Not mention everyone else would benefit should your weapons fall into the wrong hands.”