DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

by Brown, TW

  “I love you, Papi,” she whispered. “Don’t go anyplace anymore.”

  “I love you, too,” I said and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not going anyplace.” I glanced up at Ian and Billy to be sure. “Right guys?”

  “Nope,” Ian said. “He’s staying put Thalia.”

  “We need him right here,” Billy added.

  With obvious reluctance Thalia let go and followed Billy around the campground to where all the blackberry bushes were located. I watched for a second fighting down a lump in my throat and the tears that started to well up in my eyes.

  I waited till I knew they were out of earshot. “What the hell is going on?” I asked as I followed Ian.

  “Doc won’t tell us mere mortals,” Ian said with a shrug. “She said that if it was a sure thing that you wouldn’t be making it back, then she’d have to decide what to do.”

  “About what?” I asked, trying not to let the frustration and annoyance show.

  “Maybe you’ll be able to tell me,” Ian replied, and I could tell he was having a battle maintaining tone himself.

  I reached the large porch of the building that we called home—at least for now—and took a look around. The crew had been busy. Besides the sheer-walled, six-foot-deep, four foot wide trench around the hill, I saw that the dirt from the trench had been put to good use. It created a berm that cordoned off the road leading into this place. This also allowed for additional barricades to be put up. Anybody that arrived here in a vehicle would be forced to stop well away from our residence and in full view of the guard tower on top of the building.

  “Who’s been running the show here as far as these security measures?” I asked. “I’m impressed.”

  “Who else?” Ian laughed.

  “Teresa?”

  “Duh!” Ian said and opened the door. “Hey, Doc!”

  “Do you have to yell?” a voice called back. I swear, you’ve been spending too much time with those hooligans Billy and Aaron.”

  “I brought you somebody.” Ian stepped aside so I could enter the big open visitors’ center. An older woman with her grey hair pulled back in a bun so tight that I marveled that it didn’t cause her eyes to slant was standing there with her hands on her hips.

  “Steve,” she gasped and broke into an enormous smile accompanied by…could it be…tears?

  “Francis.” I stepped in and hugged the normally stoic woman. I was the only person who dared use her name. Everybody else called her ‘Doc’, or more likely ‘Dr. Zahn’.

  Dr. Francis Zahn had accompanied us when we left Serenity Base the night it fell to invaders. I could count the number of times I had seen her laugh or smile on one hand…even if I combined the total. She was a very no-nonsense lady.

  After less than ten seconds, she pushed away, wiped her eyes, and announced, “Can everybody please excuse us? I want to give Steve a check-up and there are a few sensitive matters that I need to discuss with him in private.” She may have sounded like she was asking, but it really wasn’t a request.

  “You smell,” Dr. Zahn—that’s who she was again in the blink of an eye, no sign of emotion—said. “Get out of those clothes and clean up in the basin we got in the kitchen. We can talk in there.”

  “Glad you’re back, Steve,” I said in a poor impersonation of the clipped tones of our dear doctor.

  I did as I was told; stripping down as I went, modesty no longer a concern, and tossed the filthy ball of rags into a garbage can. I noticed a curtained cubicle and stepped inside. The floor was tilted so that the water would flow out through a grate that I assumed emptied outside. A section of PVC pipe was sticking out through a cutout in the wall. It had a flex joint, and as soon as I pulled down, gravity allowed the sun-warmed water to pour through an improvised shower head that looked suspiciously like a pasta strainer.

  “I assumed you heard about Randi Jenkins,” Dr. Zahn said as she thrust her arm through the curtain and handed me a bar of soap.

  “Heard she hung herself and that Chloe found her,” I replied.

  “Yes, well I am sorry that I have to tell you this, but I don’t think that is entirely accurate.”

  “What do you mean, Doc?”

  “I mean I examined Randi.”

  “You telling me what I think you are?”

  “Steve, Randi Jenkins was murdered prior to being hung up in that tree.”

  I let the water rinse away the filth and stink that I could still taste in my mouth. I looked down at my feet, remembering the bliss of that hot shower the day we arrived at Serenity Base. I tried to let my mind wrap around just exactly what it was that the doctor was saying.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Rope doesn’t leave handprints. The damage to the throat was not consistent with what you see when a person hangs themselves. Also, Randi was found on a low branch above a campsite picnic table.” Dr. Zahn was speaking in that detached clinical way that used to irk me when we first met. That was before I realized that that was her way of dealing with her emotions. “All she would have needed to do was step off the edge of the table. There would not be a big drop, simply a choking. She was strangled and her throat was crushed; so whoever did this was strong. Randi Jenkins died a violent death.”

  “And you’ve told nobody?” I reached out for a towel. After drying off for the most part, I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out.

  “Not one single person. In fact,” Dr. Zahn raised her eyes to meet mine, “I did the autopsy one afternoon when everybody was setting up one of those heavy barricades on the entry road. I don’t think anybody knows I even did it. That night we had the burial, and I had already dressed Randi and wrapped her in a tarp.”

  “So,” I accepted a stack of neatly folded and clean clothes that the doc had waiting, “what were you going to do if I didn’t make it back? You told nobody so…what?”

  “Jason and Jamie were confident that they could bring you home.”

  “But what if they’d been wrong?”

  “I probably would have told Teresa.”

  “So everybody else is a suspect?”

  “Within reason…yes.”

  My mind tumbled over what little I knew about everybody. Outside of our small core group that I’d been with the past few months, we’d taken in an assortment of stragglers and, right or wrong, I was certain that whoever had done this had to come from those new arrivals.

  “Well then, what do you want me to do?” I pulled on my clean shirt.

  “We need to…” Dr. Zahn’s voice faded. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. It’s not like I can gather forensic evidence. Steve, we’re stuck.”

  “Perhaps,” I nodded, “but there is a possibility that the person who did this will do it again. So what we have to do is decide just exactly who we can trust and bring them into our circle. Then…we watch and wait.”

  “Okay,” the older woman agreed. “I think Teresa is a given.”

  “And Melissa,” I offered.

  “What about Ian and the boys?”

  I thought it over. My mind went back to our first meeting. Ian had been in a farmhouse with a man named Dillon that I’d been certain had spent time in prison. I had my doubts that Ian’s past was all that spotless, but I had never made a big deal about it because neither Ian nor the other man, Dillon, had given me reason for concern. As it stood, I felt confident that Ian was not our man. If Dillon was still alive, I was certain I would feel the same about him.

  “Ian.”

  “Fine,” Dr. Zahn said after a moment’s hesitation. “But that’s it.”

  “Not Jamie, Aaron or Billy?” I asked a little curious.

  “Each for different reasons,” Dr. Zahn explained. “With Aaron, that boy’s a little bit gung ho. Saw that with a lot of young soldiers. They get so into being a soldier that they don’t know when to quit. Billy can’t keep a secret two steps away from the source, and Jamie…well, I have my reasons.”

  “And that tone is a declaration that you won’t b
e sharing them.”

  “You can be taught.”

  The two of us walked out to the front just as the door flew open. Melissa and Teresa barged in arguing about something to do with ‘first’. Melissa suddenly bumped Teresa with her hip hard enough to knock the younger girl off balance.

  “Steve!” Melissa shrieked darting across the room. My only choice was to catch her. I felt legs wrap around my waist and arms around my neck. Then, all I could see was her. I felt tears on her cheeks as she kissed my face repeatedly.

  “Bitch!” I heard Teresa say from close by. “That was a dirty trick.”

  Melissa pulled back enough so she could look into my eyes. Hers glimmered with tears and her smile made me feel warm. She glanced over at Teresa her smile changing to a Cheshire grin. “You’re just mad ‘cause I beat you to the punch.”

  “True,” Teresa conceded. “Now get your skinny butt off of him so I can give him a hug!”

  “Fine.” Melissa kissed me again, this time more deeply. Slowly she unwrapped her legs and lowered herself to the floor.

  “Welcome back, Steve.” Teresa made an exaggerated show of stepping directly in front of me. She wrapped me in a hug which I gladly returned.

  Can somebody change so much in just a couple of weeks? I wondered. This sixteen-year-old girl that I had found hiding in the bathroom of a small convenience store that first day had transformed in amazing ways. A few years older, and she’d have been the one leading this group. I had no doubt about that.

  “It’s good to be back.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Dr. Zahn already filled me in,” I said taking the burden of such a terrible secret off her shoulders.

  “What?” Teresa spun around on the doctor with what sounded like genuine anger.

  “Whoa!” Dr. Zahn put her hands up. “Ummm, no. Melissa, I think we should step outside for a moment.”

  “I so don’t understand women.” I glanced at Melissa fully expecting Doctor Francis Zahn to tell her exactly what to do with that suggestion.

  “Yeah, right.” Melissa kissed Teresa on the cheek and gave my hand a squeeze. What the hell?

  The two left, and I could see Aaron, Ian, Jamie, and Billy on the porch in a cluster. The door closed, and I turned to Teresa with a look of confusion. I knew about Randi. In fact, according to Dr. Zahn, I knew more than she did. So what the—

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Hell.”

  “What?” Teresa had very tactfully put herself between me and the door.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, and shook my head. “Just finishing a thought out loud.” I looked her over. Was there really a difference in the girl I was seeing? “Congratulations? I mean …dammit, I don’t know what to say here.”

  “I’ll take the congrats,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the group gathered on the porch. “You aren’t going to be all weird about this are you? I know you’ve had a few issues with me and Jamie.”

  “Teresa,” I stepped close and took her in my arms hugging her, “the world is a crazy place right now. A sixteen-year-old mother is the least of our problems.”

  “I’ll be seventeen in November,” she said with a smile looking up at me.

  “WOW! Just a year away from being old enough to vote.”

  “Funny.”

  “I take it by the congregation outside that this is common knowledge?”

  “Only with our original group.” Teresa laid her head on my chest and exhaled. “Things have been weird here with you gone.”

  “You mean Randi?”

  “Well…” she paused. “It’s not just that. It’s a bunch of things that just seem strange.”

  “We’ve got some things to talk about I guess.” I rested my chin on the top of her head.

  “Yeah, but can we wait? I just want to enjoy today. You’re back. This is a good day. We don’t get enough of those.”

  “Abso—”

  “We’ve got incoming survivors!” Ian announced as he threw the door open. “Three by the looks of it. On foot and armed.”

  “Of course,” Teresa said with a sigh. She and I followed Ian out onto the porch with the others.

  “Is that a—” I squinted.

  “Flamethrower,” Dr. Zahn confirmed.

  3

  Vignettes XIII

  Garrett stood on the balcony. He pulled another can from the box at his feet and popped the top. Warm beer would never be his favorite, but it was better than nothing. He looked down the long driveway at the sturdy iron gate. His eyes followed the fence—a nine-foot-high brick wall—that circled the property. More of those things came every day. The last trip outside searching for supplies had been a bust. He’d returned with barely a full knapsack.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he could hear The Toy stirring. He puzzled over his inability to make it beg. The first one had given in so easily. He remembered the night the world had crumbled, leaving him to rule. He’d been standing in front of his house staring up at the living room window. What was left of his mother had been just standing there, torn open. Her guts spilling out of a hole in her enormous, sagging belly.

  A car had pulled up and a young woman inside it had asked for his help. She’d been crying. Without a word, he’d climbed in. As they drove through the chaos of the streets of North Charleston, he’d seen. Empty police cars, ambulances, and even a deserted military troop truck at an abandoned roadblock. Then he’d known. The world was dead. He’d taken her to the baseball stadium. Breaking that one had taken less than a week.

  It’d been more than a month with this one. And even though it was younger by at least half of the last one, this whore would not break. It wouldn’t beg for food or water, or for him to stop. Sure, he thought, it would cry, but that wasn’t the same. And on the rare occasion that he was honest with himself, he feared her. In those brief moments, she wasn’t The Toy. And she frightened him with her defiance.

  Tossing the empty can aside, Garrett pulled out another. Tomorrow he would have to go back out there. Food was almost gone and this case of beer was all that remained besides a large, half-gallon bottle of Southern Comfort that he was saving for a special occasion.

  The moans of the growing number of those things carried up to the house. Garrett shivered. That was another thing; there were so many now that he could hear them sometimes when the wind blew the wrong way. Hear and smell them. Even if the windows were shut.

  He’d seen up close what those monsters did when they got their hands on you. Lately, those things had replaced Ennis—the boy who’d done things to him—in the nightmares Garrett had every night. Even when he wasn’t honest with himself, those things terrified him. He’d kill himself before he’d let those things get their filthy, cold hands on him and rip open his belly like they’d done his mama.

  Reaching into the box, the big man’s hand found the last can of beer. He’d consumed the whole case, and it wasn’t even breakfast time. The dull buzz from the alcohol felt good. He heard another cough from the bedroom. Garrett knew better than to try and go out for supplies today after drinking so much. Well, he thought as he finished off the last can in three huge swallows, there were other ways to keep entertained.

  “Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,” he began to sing in an off-key rumble as he tossed the empty can off the balcony to clatter on the rocky walkway below.

  ***

  Kirsten stared up at the ceiling. The sounds of The Big Man’s snoring grating on her every nerve. He’d been incredibly drunk for so early in the day which she didn’t mind. When he was drunk, the episodes didn’t last nearly as long. Also, the violence wasn’t as prominent. For instance, this time, he’d kept calling her “Kimmy”. And kept asking why she always laughed at him. Then there was something about the police, but Kirsten wasn’t really paying attention. She did what she always did during these sessions. She stared at the ceiling and thought about nothing.

  At some point, she’d realized it had stopped. But The Big Man was still on top of her. He was up on his
hands, his head looking around with… He was scared! Something had frightened The Big Man. Then she heard it, the low moans, growls, and cries of the Monster-People. But they couldn’t have gotten inside. The wall was too high and the gate was too strong.

  She thought back to the last time she’d been tied to the post out by the front gate. It seemed like there were more of those things. She couldn’t see over the heads of the first few rows, but it had seemed like more. Not only were they louder, but she remembered thinking they looked smashed in tight.

  This couldn’t be good. If there were enough that she could hear them from her room on the backside of the house…there must be lots. Then, she remembered feeling that sensation that was both disgusting and a relief. She felt The Big Man shrink and slither out of her. He was finished. Only…he hadn’t. Then, he rolled off her. Now, he lay there, snoring. On his back beside her. She could smell the beer.

  An idea began to form. It had been a while since he’d tried to make her use her mouth on him. In fact, he’d only recently healed from that encounter. But, he’d untied her for it. For some reason, he wanted her untied and kneeling. If she could wait until he got really drunk next time, perhaps she could convince him she was ready to try it. It would be gross and disgusting, but if he passed out, like he was now, maybe he would forget to tie her up. Or, if he did tie her up, maybe he would be so drunk that he would do a bad job of it. Then, she could get away. She didn’t care to where. Just away from here.

  The Big Man made a noise, almost like a soft cry, in his sleep. She heard, then felt the worm wetness as his bladder let go. All she could do was lie there, helpless. For now.

  ***

  The Jenifer-zombie trudged slowly along the litter strewn street with over a hundred more just like her. Something had drawn them this way days ago. But whatever it was had not only escaped, but it was long forgotten.

  They walked, and Jenifer-zombie walked with them. Sometimes, the geography would force them to change directions. Other times, a sound would vibrate dully in their heads, and other times, they would ‘see’ the heat. That meant something, but none of them could remember the concept of warmth.