DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

by Brown, TW

  “Stupid lummox,” she said through the tears. Then, she drove a metal trowel through his forehead.

  Despite the fact that it was still dark, she wrapped her husband and love of her life in some sheets and stitched the ends shut. After that, she dragged him down the hallway and out into the open grounds of the hotel.

  A wave of nostalgia hit her as she stood under the glow of a full moon that was amplified by the light dusting of snow. This was the hotel he had taken her to the day he asked her to marry him. She knew something was up when they pulled into the main entrance of the luxurious hotel. Places like this were not usually to Ivor’s liking. He was more at home in a small pub with a few blokes, a full pint, and some chips. Even their dates up to this point had been out of the ordinary. She still remembered their first date. Ironically, it was to see the local American flag football team, the Zombie Horde, in action. She had the time of her life that evening being with a man who had encouraged her to just be herself and “the world be damned.”

  Now, here she was, committing his remains to the ground. All because of the bastard Nigel. Nobody had listened to her. Of course, she blamed herself. She knew better. One of her passions before this whole nightmare began all those months ago was reading. Her favorite guilty pleasure was zombie fiction. Truthfully, her interest in the zombie was due to a misplaced assumption centered on that first date. The team name had been Zombie Horde. She mistakenly assumed Ivor was a fan of zombies; when in truth, he was addicted to American football in any form.

  Still, she had read well over a hundred titles in that particular genre. One thing she felt qualified to give advice on was what to do and what not to do in this undead world. Sending a few of their people in to town was a monumentally bad idea.

  When the first cases appeared in Basingstoke, she had been the on duty nurse at Parklands Hospital. She had been at the central nurse’s desk sipping at her tea and reading when the woman had stumbled through the doors. The front of her blouse was a crimson mess and she was clutching her neck with blood-slicked hands.

  Before Victoria made it out from behind the desk, the woman had collapsed to the floor. Grabbing the phone, she had paged the emergency doctor and security. By the time she had pulled on rubber gloves and returned her attention to the downed woman, she was back on her feet. Her head moving with jerky fits as she seemed to scan the room. When those eyes turned Victoria’s way, her body suffered a massive chill. They were covered in a milky film that was shot full of black tracers. When it opened its mouth and let loose with a low moan and began moving towards her with outstretched arms, she had no doubt what this was.

  “Oh bloody hell,” was all she managed to utter.

  She ran back behind her counter and looked for anything that might be used to defend herself. Finding nothing, she made a decision. Victoria ran out the fire exit. She saw a few dark shadows in the car park as she searched frantically for her own vehicle. That ride home had been terrifying. When she burst through the door, she found Ivor asleep in his favorite chair, television droning.

  He hadn’t even questioned her when she woke him and told him what she witnessed. The next several weeks were a blur. She had refused to seek shelter in one of the locations mentioned on the telly, telling her husband that those places never fared well in her books. It proved true as each of those locations fell in the first few days.

  With a few friends and neighbors, they had done okay for a while. Then they met up with Nigel’s bunch and joined forces. At first, things had been okay, but soon, it became clear that Nigel was set on being the leader. Since he had the only gun—a fact that he never was quite clear on how it had ended up in his possession since it was a Glock 17 in a harness that had police markings, but it was clear that this man had absolutely no ties to law enforcement.

  Eventually, the suggestion was made to check out the Audleys Wood Hotel. Practically empty, the place had been easily cleared out. It was fortified, and its secluded location was very helpful as they hastily erected a barricade around the central grounds. That was the first, last, and only suggestion of hers that had been heeded.

  Looking up into the gray sky, the first few flakes of a new snow were drifting on the morning breeze. Victoria rose to her feet, wiping what she vowed to be her last tears from her eyes, she returned inside. Things were going to change…she owed Ivor that much.

  ***

  “On your feet and outside!” Jody barked. On his flank, two of his fellow grunts had M4s leveled at the bleary eyed residents of the tiny home. The same scene was being played out this very moment in the four other homes in this cul-de-sac.

  The men of the 3rd Battalion, 153rd Infantry, had been given their orders. The citizens of Bald Knob, Arkansas were to be brought to the high school. Any resistance was to be dealt with accordingly. Bald Knob was now considered the official property of the United States Army.

  A little girl of six or seven clutched her mother’s side as the family was ushered out into the cold rainy night. Jody felt his heart tighten at the sight of the absolute fear on the girl’s face. Her fear was not due to the threat of being eaten by one of the walking dead. No…she was scared of the living monsters that had stormed into her home, jammed the stock of a rifle into her daddy’s gut, yanked her mother out of bed, and shoved her into the hall.

  “Y’all can’t be doin’ this,” the girl’s father coughed, still hunched over from the assault inflicted on him by one of Jody’s men. “We’re Americans…we gots our rights!”

  “Right now,” Jody leveled his gaze at the man and did his best to look threatening, “the only rights you have are the ones we allow you.”

  “This is America—”

  “Shut up!” one of the soldiers barked. He raised his weapon as if to slam it into the man’s ample belly once more.

  “Private!” Jody barked. “At ease.”

  The soldier gave the man a cold sneer, but he stepped back and lowered the stock of his weapon. The family stepped outside and quickly huddled together to try and fend off the cold. From one of the other houses there was a sudden outcry and a short burst of weapon’s fire. Thankfully, this was the last street. If this had happened earlier in the evolution, it is likely that many, or at least some, of the residents of Bald Knob would have been alerted and gone on the defensive.

  The 153rd was a skeleton of its former self. Even with the few locals who had volunteered, they only had forty-one men in the outfit. Compared to the thousand or so residents of Bald Knob, they were grossly outnumbered. The only thing they had on their side was the element of surprise and the lack of hesitation when it came to pulling the trigger when the target in the sights was a living, breathing human being instead of a walking stiff.

  One by one, the call rang out. “Residence secure!” Every living soul was to be kept in the gymnasium of the local high school. Once they were secure inside, the next phase of the evolution was to commence. Every home would be tossed. Anything that could be considered a weapon would be confiscated.

  “Slider wants to see you, Sarge,” one of the men announced as he arrived on the double-time.

  That was the other part of the problem for Jody. Chuck “Slider” Monterro was a bit of a legend to the men of the 153rd. He had been a covert op “hiding in plain sight” as the old saying goes. As far as anybody knew, he was just a soldier…a member of a stateside unit. Since training was an integral part of military life, it was always just assumed that he was attending any number of the available specialty schools. In reality, he had been performing “behind the lines” operations.

  “Where is he?” Jody asked.

  He had to do his best not to show any emotion. So far, everything he had done was strictly a manner of self-preservation. Slider had come to him and asked him to lead the men in this operation. He had no doubts that any sort of refusal would have resulted in his elimination. He would be replaced by the first man who would be willing to carry out orders. At least this way, he had a say in the operations.

>   “Ops tent,” the soldier reported.

  “Benny?” Jody removed his goggles, no longer needing their night vision capabilities.

  “Hey, man,” Benny Brazil slung his M4 over his shoulder and reached out to shake Jody’s hand.

  “Haven’t seen you since the last patrol.”

  Jody’s first opportunity to lead the men on an actual mission had not gone well. Benny had been on that run, but Jody realized with a slight feeling of concern that he’d not seen the man since their return. Having only spoken with Slider on a couple of occasions, he was now dosed with a healthy amount of paranoia. He had little doubt that there were individuals already being groomed to replace him should he stumble or fail.

  “Got sent out on a RECON patrol.”

  Alarm bells began to ring.

  “Funny…never heard of any outbound missions.” Jody slung his own weapon and did his best to appear nonchalant.

  “The captain got rumor of another small community holding out just to the south…turned out to be a bust.”

  More bells…and a bit more volume. Shouldn’t he be made aware of such things if he were now the leading NCO of the Gunslingers of Arkansas?

  “Too bad…it would be nice if we could bring in some folks who weren’t set against us,” Jody said. Benny just stared back silently.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Jody headed across the wide open field and steered himself towards the glow of the operations tent. As he walked, he tried to figure out just exactly what Slider would want from him. When he reached the tent, he fought the urge to ask for permission to enter. That was what subordinates were required to do. He was not a subordinate…at least not to Slider. Supposedly, they were co-commanders of the remnants of this unit.

  Stepping in, a rush of warmth hit him in the face. A large barrel in the center of the tent had a nice fire going in it. Standing beside the barrel was Slider…and Captain Timothy Gould, the commanding officer of the 153rd.

  “Sergeant Rafe,” the captain stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  Jody remained silent for a moment and cast a quick glance at Slider. The man seemed to be more concerned with warming himself over the fire than what was happening in this tent.

  “All the citizens have been accounted for, sir,” Jody finally responded, returning his focus to the man standing before him.

  “And the second phase of the operation?”

  “In progress as we speak, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  Jody considered his situation and decided that if he was going to be eliminated, then he had nothing to lose. That prompted his next question.

  “I understand a mission was sent outside the wire recently.”

  “Just chasing a rumor, sergeant,” the captain said with a shrug.

  Jody’s eyes darted over to Slider for any hint of reaction, but there was nothing. He studied the captain. He seriously doubted this young, green ROTC boy had the same ability to mask his feelings or motives that Slider possessed. He was met with a blank stare.

  “Perhaps it was not the right decision to send out one of your men without informing you.” The captain made a slight nod of the head. “It won’t happen again. You should be aware of any operations involving your men.”

  Jody wasn’t sure what to think. The captain sounded sincere. Yet there was still a great deal about all of this that he held reservations about.

  “So what will be our next course of action?” Jody asked.

  “That is what we called you here for,” Slider spoke, causing Jody to jump just a bit. “We will be separating the women and children from the men. It is our belief that by keeping them separated, the men will perform as requested.”

  “Don’t you mean as hostages?” Jody couldn’t help himself. He had been raised by a Pentecostal preacher who had instilled in him the core value of truth and honesty. His father had wept the day Jody rebuffed an offer to continue the evangelical family tradition in lieu of a military commitment.

  “I imagine it could be seen as such.” Slider shrugged. His voice held absolutely no emotion and reminded Jody of what a snake would sound like if given a human voice. “But the fact is that we need leverage to hold our position. Logistics are not in our favor. We are grossly outnumbered and need to ensure our authority.”

  “So what will we be doing with the women and children?”

  “The women will be kept safe and secure. They will be tasked with support services.” The captain went over to the desk with a series of maps of Bald Knob and the surrounding areas. “The children will undergo an educational program and, based on age, some will begin military indoctrination.”

  Brainwashing, Jody thought. Why couldn’t they call things as they were? The women would cook and clean and the children would be brainwashed.

  “And what do you require of me next, sir?”

  “We want you to see to the separation and housing of the women and children,” Slider said.

  Jody looked back and forth between the two men. He felt like he should be concerned. This was not the job you placed under the command of the leading NCO.

  “Look, Sergeant Rafe, it is no secret that your…a bit more compassionate than Sergeant Monterro here,” the captain explained. “The men are going to need some convincing to do what we require. That is his forte. The women will need to be made to feel safe. I believe that is yours. Don’t read anything into this.”

  Jody looked back and forth between the two men. Neither one gave away even the slightest hint of emotion.

  “Will I be doing this alone, or will I be given support?” Jody asked.

  “How many men do you think you will require?” the captain returned question for question.

  Jody considered what he wanted versus what he felt might be granted him. He knew that, despite what they were saying, this assignment was not one that he was being given due to his compassion. They wanted him out of the way.

  “Give me one man…and I want to handpick him.”

  “Done,” the captain agreed.

  “Just remember one thing, Rafe.” Slider moved away from the barrel and faced Jody with a blank, emotionless expression. “You are being given this job for a reason.”

  Jody did not need the hidden meaning of that statement to be explained.

  ***

  Hanover, Ohio—Major Wanda Beers looked back at the column marching alongside the few vehicles that they were still able to maintain. The fuel tanker would need to be topped off again very soon, she thought, if the gas was still even any good.

  She turned her attention back to the front. The blue piece of cloth fluttered from the street sign indicating that they were still on the right track. That idiot Paul James better not screw this up; she grimaced at the idea that her entire outfit was at the mercy of possibly one of the stupidest men she had ever met in her life.

  He had been one of the first to sell out his group during their last stop. He had been under some delusional state of mind that the military could help his wife. The only help for that snarling, drooling, walking sack of guts was a bullet in the head.

  Once the appropriate arrangements were made for all the supplies to be loaded up and all the willing recruits had been conscripted, the rest of the citizens were forced outside of the walls of their little barricaded outpost.

  Wanda had taken great pleasure in throwing this particular group out into the wild. This was one of those gated communities full of people who bitch and moan about the military, protest their actions, and elect politicians who don’t have a problem cutting defense spending so that little Johnny can go to school and be a juvenile delinquent. They all drove around in their Hybrid cars and chanted things like “No blood for oil!” What did they care? It wasn’t like those rich pricks or any of their children would ever serve. None of them would ever hold a dying friend in their arms that had just had his lower half blown off by an insurgent’s IED.

  The day before the
y were set to leave, she had informed Paul James that his daughter would not be joining them on the journey. The girl was positively useless. She had failed in every task assigned and done nothing by cry and complain when they had placed her on kitchen duty. The only other choice was to put her with the whores who serviced the soldiers. He had absolutely refused.

  Wanda had created the “Brothel Brigade” early on. As a student of history, she knew that it had been common in the ancient times for armies to have useable whores travel with them—usually in the rear, and they normally performed other menial tasks like laundry and such to earn their place. Apparently what was good enough for the father was too good for the daughter—Paul had been put in rotation with the men and women in the brothel tent after he had proven to be loyal but useless. Sadly, he wasn’t much better as a whore.

  Paul had come to her tent the night before they were prepared to roll out. He said that he knew of another outpost. He admitted that his group was just getting ready to approach them with an offer of joining forces. Ironically, they were concerned with the possibilities of raiders coming along and trying to take over their happy little homes.

  He went on to say that this other group had even fewer people, but that they seemed exceptionally well organized and supplied. He didn’t want to reveal the location unless he had assurances that his daughter would be allowed to remain with the group. He said that he would even take a second job to pick up her slack. She could have brought his useless daughter Mary in right then and held a knife to her throat to convince him to talk, but she was feeling generous that day.

  “You will go, and your daughter will go with you,” Wanda decided. “A group might be hesitant to take in a lone man. She will help soften them up. You will leave blue strips of cloth as markers and an indicator that you have made contact.”

  She could roll with the direct frontal assault, but she didn’t want to waste precious manpower if it was not necessary. Having a man on the inside was the perfect Trojan horse scenario. He would gain this new group’s trust, and then open the gates to allow their access.