Zombie Overload (Book 4): Determined To Live

by C. M. Wright

  God no!

  Please no!

  Jake, how could you?

  Who the hell are you - and what the hell have I done?

  I have to warn my family!

  I set the vase on the floor and put the pictures back in the bag. Then I pull out my cell - but my heart's banging so frikken hard I have to stop and breathe a few times, afraid I'm truly having a heart attack.

  Once I've settled down a little, I dial Will's cell. After three rings, my anxiety increases. In the middle of the fourth ring, it's answered.

  "Canada! Baby, where are you?"

  Jake!

  "Where's Will, Jake?"

  He sighs loudly.

  "He's a little busy right now. Where are you?" he asks again impatiently.

  I hang up.

  No! Oh, hell no!

  Where's my husband?

  Did Jake do something to him?

  How stupid am I for leaving Will with Jake anyway, after everything that has already happened?

  I call my mom next.

  "Canada! Honey, where are you?" she asks me, deeply concerned. In the background, I can hear several voices of my family all talking at once, asking about me.

  "I'm ok, I'm safe. Mom, have you heard from Will?"

  "Yes. He told us you left them at a gas station and took off on your own. Honey, he told us what Jake had said and it's not true. We know you didn't kill Sara. There were bloody military boot prints leading away from her body."

  "Mom, I am wearing military boots!" I remind her, my hope that it isn't true disappearing.

  "No. No, you're not." I look down towards my feet, confused. Yes. Yes, I am. "You, my darling daughter, are wearing one military boot. There were three prints leading away from Sara's body -a left foot and two right feet - and only two had enough blood on them to be from more than a good well-deserved ass-beating."

  "So that means...but no one else was there!"

  "Do you remember when you asked Rose where Jake was? And then when he came outside he told you both he'd been in the bathroom? Well, after your sister told us about that, I knew exactly what he'd been up to. I was in the kitchen when he came flying in the back door - breathing hard like he'd been running. The silencer was on his gun, which I clearly saw before he got it put away. Then there was the blood he left on my clean kitchen floor that, at the time, I assumed was from all the zombie-killing he'd been doing.

  "Rose was just upset when she talked to you - she's the one who found Sara's body and it scared the hell out of her - but at the time she talked to you, she didn't know yet what we'd found in the barn. And she's very sorry about what she said to you. Then Will told us about the second call from Jake. There never was a second call, Canada. And Dustin wasn't on his way to meet you. Will thought Jake had planned to do something to him and take you away."

  I gasp and terror makes my head spin for a few moments. "Mom," I choke out. "I just called Will's phone and Jake answered. He said Will was "busy." Oh my god, Mom! He killed him!"

  "Where are you? And stop thinking the worst has happened. You don't know that."

  "I'm in a house about twenty miles or so east of Hill City. It's on the left side of the road, has a long driveway, and sits on top of a really high cement base. I think the house is light green or light blue. And there's about a dozen steps up to the porches on both sides of the house. Oh, and there's a two-car garage in the back. My - Jake's - Hummer is inside."

  "Alright, we'll find it. Just stay calm and stay safe. We love you."

  "Love you guys too, Mom," I tell her in a little girl voice because I feel like a little girl who needs her mama to make everything all better. Then I remember to tell her about Mel. "And, Mom, please keep your eyes open for Will."

  "We will. See you soon."

  "Ok, Mom. See you s―Wait! There are a bunch of zombies here too, so be careful." I tell her.

  She responds "Will do" and we hang up.

  It's easy to tell myself not to worry about Will and what might have happened to him, but it's a whole different story trying to actually do it.

  I go back to Jake's bag and search inside for anything I might have missed. I feel something in one of the inside zippers and when I pull the objects out, I just stare at them as they lay in my lap.

  What the hell? Is this Greg's stuff? Jake's? Does he have a medical condition too?

  Lined up in a row on my lap are at least a dozen syringes. In a pile beside them are about that many dark brown vials. There's no label to tell me what the vials contain so I have no idea how important they may be. I place them back inside the bag along with the rest of the items, zip it up, and set it on the floor beside my chair. Then I lean back and just let my body relax, even if my mind can't.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mel stirs, but doesn't wake, and I watch her for a few minutes before picking my cell up again. I push the icon for internet and hold my breath as I wait to see if it'll connect. It does and I search for any missing girls named Melody - I wish I'd gotten her last name! - and start by checking the state of Missouri.

  The first picture and story to pop up is definitely my Mel. I click on it and read the story. It's a shorter, not-as-detailed version of what Mel had told me - her parents, the cops, and media not being privy to the exact details as she was. But it also fills me in on the details Mel had not been privy to as well. First of all, her parents have never stopped looking for her, which I was certain they hadn't.

  There were also many tips - most wrong - such as the kidnappers were a couple in their twenties, it was a single middle-aged man who took her, and some idiot reported it was an older woman in her eighties...who was in a frikken wheelchair!

  The reported vehicles the kidnappers used were a small dark green car, a white van, and even an ice cream truck. To screw up the investigation even more, people reported several different directions that the kidnappers had gone.

  Why are people so media-starved that they will endanger a child's life by making shit up? Nothing they had reported had even been close to the truth! The kidnappers were both in their forties, they have a gray SUV, and probably came straight to their home.

  Melody had been kidnapped from St. Thomas, which is only about half an hour's drive south of here.

  I can't believe they were so stupid to kidnap a child so close to their own home! Well, never mind. People who hurt kids like this, and worse, are stupid anyway.

  I find the contact number, but it's for St. Thomas police department. Almost certain I won't get a response, I dial the number anyway and jump in surprise when the clatter of the phone sounds in my ear.

  But then I hear the grunts of someone who should have been dead and silent.

  I disconnect the call and sigh. Then a new thought forms. I now know Mel's last name and her parents' names. Getting back on the internet, I pull up a website for finding a person's phone number. Typing in Alan and Jessie Hunter, I immediately get a hit. I push the "Call" option and ringing fills my ear.

  I expect no answer - or maybe another zombie - so when a living man says, "Hello?" I jump again and go mute.

  "Hello? Is anyone there? We need help," he pleads for a voice to respond.

  "Um, hi. Is this Mr. Hunter? Alan Hunter?" I ask, my voice not nearly as strong as I would like it to be.

  "Yes! Who's this?"

  "Well, um. You don't know me Mr. Hunter, but I believe you may be able to help me."

  Shit!

  How do I tell them about their daughter?

  I mean, do I just come right out and say it, or do I ease into it?

  "Help you? Ma'am, we need help. We can't leave our home because of these damn zombies, and we're afraid to drink the water because who knows how this started - and we are very close to being out of food. We have two cans of baked beans left. I hate baked beans! We're stuck upstairs and my wife and I are getting sick of each other's company―"

  "Sir!" I interrupt his rant, as understandable as it is. "I can try to help you and your wife get out of ther
e, but right now I have something bigger to tell you."

  "What?" he asks, curious in what I have to say now.

  "Sir, I believe I've found your daughter." I wait for his reaction, holding my breath.

  After a long moment of silence, I hear what sounds like heavy, unsteady breathing. I jump and suck in my breath when his voice, strong with anger, blasts through the phone.

  "You bitch! How dare you call and say something like that, especially at a time like this! You people are sick and you disgust me!" And then a beep signals he'd hung up on me.

  Obviously they've had enough prank calls by this time that they've given up on any real hope of her being found.

  People are sick!

  I look over at Melody and see her beautiful little face. She gives me the strength to hit redial without hesitation, determined that these people are going to listen to me.

  "Stop calling us, you sick bitch!" the man screams into the phone.

  "Mr. Hunter," I scream back with steel in every syllable. "If you would stop being such a jackass, I can prove I have Melody right here with me."

  "Fine. Try and do that." His voice drips with hatred and disgust.

  "Fine. I will! She has black hair and blue eyes, and was kidnapped on her fifth birthday from a pizza party. She―"

  "So you can read and watch TV. Not good enough."

  "If you would shut the hell up and listen to me, maybe you'll hear something you didn't post or broadcast, you ass!" My own anger comes through loud and clear. "She had 'twelve whole friends' at the party" - apparently, she says that a lot, as the man gasps - "she had a big pink princess cake. You always called her Mel, and she says 'baffroom' for bathroom, 'din't' for didn't, and she calls the pizza place you had her party at 'Kid Plant' instead of Kid Planet. Sound familiar, Mr. Hunter?" Only when I stop talking do I hear his sobs.

  "Where is she? Is she with you now? Is she hurt? Please let me talk to her. Let me hear her voice," he begs me.

  I look over at Mel just as she gives a light snore.

  "Mr. Hunter, she's asleep. She's had a rough couple days - well, rougher than normal. She was hiding in the bathroom because the people who kidnapped her had turned to zombies. But she's ok," I rush to assure him. "I'm not sure if waking her up and thrusting the phone at her is a good idea."

  I hear her daddy sob even harder, and my heart breaks for him.

  "Alan, look, here's what we'll do. I'll go ahead and wake her, we'll be leaving shortly, anyway. I'll explain all this to her so that it doesn't give her a shock when she talks to you, and maybe you ought to explain things to your wife. Then I'll call you back wh―"

  "No! Please don't hang up. Please? Can't you just leave the phone on while you talk to her? Please, I just need to know she's ok. I need to hear her voice."

  I think about it for a minute, then agree it might be best. Maybe by the time she talks to him, he'll have calmed down - at least a little.

  "Ok, Alan. I can do that. I'm setting the phone down now."

  "Ok." And then I hear him scream excitedly for his wife.

  I lean over and lightly shake Mel. She groans and tries to move away from my hand, but she can't go too far before the couch stops her.

  "Mel. Hey honey, wake up. I need to talk to you."

  A few more attempts, and she finally sits up slowly and rubs her eyes. After she lets out a big yawn, she focuses on me.

  "Mel, I have some things to talk to you about. First, my family is coming to get us out of here."

  Her eyes light up at that news and she quietly claps, softly saying "Yay!"

  "There's something even better, Mel." She grins at just the thought of something better than leaving this house. "Mel, I found your mommy and daddy. They've been looking all over for you."

  "Really? You found them? They still love me?"

  I pull Mel onto my lap and hold her tight. "Of course they do, Mel! In fact, they're waiting to talk to you on my phone right now." I hold the phone up and she snatches it lightning fast.

  "Mommy! Daddy!" she yells into the phone.

  I hear the muffled responses - although loud, I still can't make out actual words. But I don't really need to, now do I? It's pretty obvious.

  I ask Mel to move to the couch so I can get up, but I have to help her because she's shaking so hard from excitement and has a death grip on the phone. I fumble with my crutches and finally stand, my body aching and rebelling at the promise of rest that seems to never actually happen.

  As I leave the room, I grin when I hear Mel tell her parents that, "Aunt Ana - that's what I named her cause her name was weird. I wanted to name her Buffy, but she said Buffy doesn't kill zombies she kills vampires - but she has a broken foot and has owies all over her!" Then I groan and swing out of the room faster when she adds, "even on her butt!"

  Shaking my head - my face burning with embarrassment - I enter the kitchen, then Mel's room. I find a change of warm clothes and stuff them into my shirt to free my hands. Then I gather everything we will need, placing it all close to the back door.

  Going back to the living room, I sit in a chair - bought more for looks than comfort - that is placed next to a front window. As I watch for my family, I smile listening to Mel's side of the conversation. After a few more minutes, I tell Mel to bring me the phone, and she does - reluctantly. She says "Goodbye" and "See you soon!" to her parents, and then hands me my phone.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, can you text me your address and directions to get to your house to this number?"

  They tell me they will, then I ask, "How many zombies do you think are there?"

  Mr. Hunter answers, "I would say at least fifty or sixty."

  I groan and rub my face with my free hand. "Alright. We'll be there as soon as we can."

  "Ok. Thank you. Thank you so much for everything, but especially for Mel. Please, Ana, please keep her safe," he begs me.

  "You bet your ass I will." I pause and then, "Mr. Hunter?"

  "Yes?"

  "The name is Aunt Ana."

  He chuckles. "So I hear. See you soon?"

  "Yep. Bye." And we disconnect.

  Mel is so excited that it takes me a few times to get her to change clothes. Once I firmly tell her to get changed now, she does in a hurry. But she never stops her happy chatter and I don't blame her a bit.

  I take a hurried glance out the window and my heart races when I see headlights of a vehicle turn into the drive. I search for the other vehicles, knowing they wouldn't have sent only one since I told them about the zombies, but there's no more following it. Plus, it hasn't been long enough for my family to get here.

  Thankful I'd shut all the lights off, but still not sure if whoever it is can see me through the window, I duck down and whisper for Mel to get down and get over beside me. As we wait for the car to pass by us and head towards the back, Mel doesn't say a word. A horrible sharp sense of danger, and an intense feeling of needing to run and hide, has me panting in fear.

  Something's so not right!

  "Mel, stay down, stay quiet, and follow me." She nods, her eyes wide as she senses my fear. I quickly silence my phone and shove it into one of my pockets, snag the loops of the duffel bag, and still on my knees, push everything in front of me as I make my way to the bedroom with the broken window. Mel brings my crutches.

  I can hear the bang of a gun going off outside as we both are crawling inside the room. When I turn back to shut and lock the door, my eyes flash to the big ass armoire blocking the window.

  Damn it!

  I forgot about that.

  Even if there are zombies outside, an escape route would still be nice.

  But before I can try to move it, I hear the back door crash open. I grab Melody and push her towards the armoire. After removing the vases and mirror, I help her inside the cabinet and assure her it'll be alright but to be very, very quiet. I see a pad and pen lying on the nightstand nearby and grab them. Then I pull out my phone and frantically write down her address, her name, and "help her" on
it. I also write, "Tell my boys I love them." Ripping the paper off the pad, I fold it and shove it into Mel's pocket.

  "Baby, listen to me. If anything happens to me, stay in here. No matter what! My family will be the next people to come here, and when they do, give them this." - I can only pray my family IS the next to come. There's nothing more I can do. - "I love you. Now stay inside and keep quiet."

  She nods as I shut the doors of the armoire. I shove the duffel bag and crutches under the bed and pull the sheet and comforter down to hide them. Then I crawl as fast as I can to the closet. I have just enough time to get inside the closet and pull the door until it's closed all but a crack, when the bedroom door bursts open with a hard kick and slams against the back wall.

  Jake stands in the doorway. The man with the huge body loaded with muscles. The man whose body I very much admired and had touched, kissed, felt against me. The same man who had claimed to love me, who was so gentle and sweet to me.

  I feel bile rise up once again knowing that this man - who had been all those things - was never those things.

  Will was right about Jake.

  Will was right this whole time.

  Fear in my mind, body, and soul, I watch as he scans the room with his eyes. He takes a few steps inside the room, then stops.

  My heart is pounding so hard that I'm positive he can hear it.

  "Hey, Canada! Where are you? I know you're here. I have a program on my phone that tracks all those Hummers. Mine is right outside in the garage."

  I close my eyes briefly, as fear rushes around inside me even faster. As quietly as I can, I pull my gun from the fatigue holster, and aim it towards the small crack in the door.

  "Canada!" he screams.

  I jump and my heart stutters in my chest. I watch him as he starts to walk around the room. He flings the bathroom door open, and disappears inside. I glance over at the armoire and horror fills me when I see a piece of Mel's shirt caught between the two cabinet doors. If she were to move, it would probably open the doors.

  Please don't move, Mel. Please don't move.

  But of course, what freakin' happens?

  Damn it!

  Jake walks back into the room just as the cabinet slowly starts to creak open. I let out a small sigh of relief when it stops, just barely open a crack. But apparently, that's enough for Jake.