DEAD Series [Books 1-12]

by Brown, TW

  A figure was less than ten feet away. Judging by the way the person was moving with a deliberate slowness, she had to assume this was some perimeter security. It was that person’s misfortune to have drawn a watch shift in this location and on this night.

  Catie’s hand went to her hip and the knife she had. At the moment, it was her only weapon. She still could not believe that these people had handed her one. If they’d only known…

  Quick and quiet, she rose to a crouch and scuttled up behind the person. In a flash, she came up, wrapped an arm around the person’s face, effectively covering their mouth, and then drove her blade up and into the kidney. There was a muffled cry that died as the pain seized the person and made any sort of noise a near impossibility.

  Catie felt a bit of sticky warmth on the hand that held the blade. Once the person was still, she lowered the body to the ground and dropped back into a crouch. She never even bothered to look at the face to see if it had been a man or woman. She didn’t care. At this point, they were all sheep, and she was the new wolf in the field.

  As she reached the first tent, she paused. Inside she could hear a muffled voice. It had the steady cadence and supplicating tone of a man in prayer. Slipping down the side of the tent, she decided that it would do her some good to perhaps find a backup weapon. She cursed herself for not searching the sentry. She would go back if needed, but it could not hurt to check here first.

  Hugging the inky black of the shadows that had devoured the fringes of this camp that were farthest from that small cluster of tents with lights inside giving off a dull white glow, Catie moved with caution and paused at the entrance.

  “…and bring strength to our leaders as they steer us through these trials. Please forgive my sins and accept me into your kingdom when my time on this earth is finished…” the man was whispering fervently.

  Catie slipped in, covered the man’s mouth and slit his throat. This time, a geyser of blood sprayed, making a wet splat sound as it met the taut wall of the canvas tent. Letting the body drop, Catie briefly wondered if he had gotten the answer to that final prayer as she went about searching for any sort of weapon. She was happy when she found a bow and quiver of arrows. It was not the best quality, but she did not need anything special. In addition, she found a machete. Its rough construction told her that it had been made as some sort of batch weapon. Again, low grade, but capable of what she needed tonight.

  She left the tent and fixed her gaze on the cluster of tents that were lit. She did not care how many people she had to go through, but she would do it tonight; she would avenge Kevin and kill Erin Crenshaw.

  She tried to remember all she could about this girl. She remembered that she had been with Kevin’s people. She also knew everything from what Kevin had shared about how he had come to meet the Bergmans. The problem was that most of his stories were about the eldest sister Ruth, and then Shari. Erin’s name seldom actually came up except as a side note. The only story centered on her was the one involving the loss of the girl’s baby and the guilt Kevin carried for not having been able to save her.

  She recalled the girl staying when Kevin and his group left. She had not paid it much mind. Whatever had happened between now and then was a mystery. However, she decided that she did not care what she knew or didn’t know about this girl and her past. If all went well, she would be dead by morning.

  If it worked out that she was able to take out Cherish Brandini, that would just be a bonus. Catie moved silently through the camp. She had discovered over the years that large groups of people eventually fall into a false sense of security. This seemed to be the case here.

  Of course, they had just side-stepped a herd. When she had evacuated to that hilltop, she had seen that Erin was smart enough to send trailers on the heels of that herd to ensure that they continued on a course away from the camp they had made in the parade grounds of the Virginia Military Institute.

  As she passed one tent after another, she was actually finding herself becoming more and more angry. While it was unlikely that every one of these people had seen what happened to Kevin, she knew that plenty had watched it firsthand. Also, she had no doubt that word had spread. These people felt nothing in regards to that death. Well, perhaps they would feel differently when she was finished.

  A part of her wanted to slip into each and every single tent. One at a time, she would kill them all. But her rational mind forced her to dismiss that fantasy. It only needed to go poorly one time to stop her from her ultimate goal.

  At last, she was at the edge of the glow provided by those tents in the center of this sea of canvas. As she expected, there were armed sentries. The problem was that they were at the entrance to not one, but three of the tents. She would have to either risk playing a lethal version of the shell game or hope for a miracle where Erin would simply pop out for some trivial reason and reveal her location.

  Her mind allowed Kevin’s voice to filter in and remind him in that way he had. “This ain’t the movies.” She could not and would not hope for such a miracle. Then she heard a laugh.

  It was familiar. She knew the sound of a flirtatious Cherish Brandini when she heard it. That laugh was coming from the tent on the far left. If things were in a logical pattern, she would expect Erin’s tent to be the one in the middle. She would pin her hopes on that.

  Dripping back into the shadows, she circled around. Every so often, she would stop and check the sentries. Were they being vigilant, were they talking to one another? These were all things that she would need to know in order to give herself the best chance for success.

  At last she had worked her way around to the rear of the large tents. She waited patiently and was rewarded when the roving sentry walked past. She counted with a steady deliberateness to try and gauge the timing. Once she reached a hundred, she no longer cared. She doubted there was some kind of elaborate scheme where the guards came by at staggered intervals to eliminate somebody being able to time an attack. Hell, she was almost willing to bet that there was enough arrogance here that these people did not actually even expect one to ever occur.

  Knowing that she had at least two minutes, Catie waited for the sentry to pass before scurrying to the tent. She held her breath and listened. There was no conversation. That could be a good thing. If Erin was in this tent, and if she were to be alone, then this might actually work.

  Taking out her knife, she slowly worked it into the seam at the base of the tent. Once she had a good four or five inches, she laid down flat and tried to peer inside. Her heart slammed in her chest as adrenaline flooded her.

  Sitting with her back to where Catie had made the cut was her target. Even better, Erin was alone. She was seated at a small desk writing something. Catie knew her time was almost up, she crept back to her hiding place and waited for the sentry to pass once more. As soon as he or she rounded a corner and vanished, Catie returned to Erin’s tent.

  “…will become a light in this time of darkness. I invite you to join me, and together we can ensure that we never again suffer such a heinous attack. I realize this will test some of you, but just remember our lost children. And not just my own, many of you feel my pain at this moment as the wounds of that loss are still fresh. We have taken down one of their leaders, but we must not stop there…”

  Catie had heard enough. The woman was rehearsing a speech that Catie wanted to be certain was never given. She made a mental note to be sure and grab those pages as well. She would not want them to be discovered and used as some rally cry for these people.

  Her knife cut through another several inches of the base of the tent. Catie had to retreat once more, but she knew that she would need to make her move on this next trip. That slice could be discovered if Erin turned her head.

  As soon as the opportunity presented itself with the passing of that rover, Catie crouched and scurried to her handiwork once more. She laid flat and looked in again, using her index finger to just barely lift the tent. Erin was still at her desk, and cu
rrently bent over. This was where she would either succeed or fail.

  Lifting the bottom edge just enough, Catie held her breath and pushed her head in. For a split second, she considered just thrusting through and attacking wildly. She would never escape alive, but she would still have enough time to kill this woman with her own hands before help arrived.

  No, she was going to live. She was going to kill this woman and then return home to tell the others of his fate so that they could honor Kevin in a way he deserved. She knew that the people of Beresford would want to do that. Kevin had been well liked, if not loved, by the people of that community.

  Instead, she moved as slowly as possible so as to not bring attention to herself. Erin continued to write at her desk just about twenty feet away. Catie wondered briefly why a single woman needed such a large space and decided that it really did not matter. She was almost all the way through the cut she had created when Erin stopped writing. Catie had been watching her intently, looking for any sign that the woman might sense her presence or become aware that she was no longer alone.

  When Erin set her pencil down, Catie tensed. If need be, she would change tactics and charge this woman. There was no way that she would get this close and then fail.

  Catie was all the way in now, and Erin remained at her desk. From her vantage point, it now looked as if the young woman was reading her speech. Catie rose and shifted her location just slightly in order to be exactly behind Erin. She did not want the woman to catch sight of her in her peripheral vision.

  Knife in hand, she crept forward, one silent step after another. It took all of her self-control not to just charge and be done with it. Why was she being cautious? What did she have to live for? But she knew the answer to that question. It had been her final secret. One that she had intended to share after they made it official as to where they would settle down. She had not wanted Kevin’s mind to be clouded. She wanted him to make his choice based on his usual logic. Unfortunately, things had not worked out as planned and she had blurted it out when they had been captured.

  She only wished that she was far enough along that she could feel it kick or something. All she knew for certain was that she had a child inside her. Sometime in the last several weeks, maybe one night when they made love under the stars that lit the sky in a way that a person had to see to believe. It was a sight that she never tired of, and the fact that they had spent so many of those nights together these past several months was a consolation, although it did nothing to mitigate the loss she felt.

  She was two steps away when the woman set the pages down and stood. Catie had to act now. She closed the last few feet just as Erin turned. Before the woman could scream, Catie reversed the hold of her knife and punched the shocked woman in the throat, killing any possibility of sound that might have escaped as the voice box crunched under the blow.

  Like a viper, Catie struck again to be sure and used that forward momentum to grab the woman in her arms and guide her to the ground, sprawling on her with her body acting as a restraining weight. Catie brought a knee into the midsection as hard as she could. There was only a slight whistle of air escaping, and Erin’s mouth opened as if to scream, but not even the slightest squeak came from the effort.

  “Remember me, bitch?” Catie breathed in the woman’s ear.

  Erin just stared up at her, tears now leaking from the corners of her eyes. The confusion was enough of an answer. She had not made the connection yet. Well, Catie did not want to waste time. As much as she would have loved to make this woman suffer agony for a thousand hours and then a thousand more, she needed to act and then get out.

  “I am Kevin’s wife!”

  Realization flashed in an instant, but was only allowed to remain for a second before pain and fear shoved their way back into Erin’s expressive eyes. Catie smiled the smile of satisfaction and then brought her knife in and up. She felt the heart muscle resist for just a second before the blade pierced it. When Catie withdrew, blood came in a rush and Erin’s feet twitched furiously.

  Catie rose and looked down into the wide open and now empty eyes of her husband’s killer. Leaning over, she snatched the pages of the speech and stuffed then into her shirt. With only slightly less caution, Catie peered out into the darkness. She knew her night vision was wasted by the brilliant glow of the lanterns in the tent, but she waited long enough that she eventually heard more than saw the roving sentry walk past.

  Slipping out of the tent, Catie melted into the shadows. The laughter of Cherish Brandini tempted her, but she had done what she set out to do. Now it was time to go home.

  A moment with the author…

  The fear of being a disappointment!

  Any Sopranos fans out there? How about the riveting show that was Lost? If you fall into either of those groups, then you might know a little something about feeling like you went on this amazing journey that ended up with a great big kick in the naughty bits. Sure, there are those who will profess to be just fine with how two of the most epic television series ever came to a halt, but judging by the responses at the time, I am guessing that those people are in the minority. X-Files? Hell, even Rosanne and Seinfeld get grief from anybody who vested any serious amount of time watching a sitcom for anything other than the humor. And don't get me started on How I met Your Mother, a sitcom that started off with a supposed end game.

  Give me the ending to Breaking Bad...or either of my personal faves, Friday Night Lights and Quantum Leap (the song “Georgia on My Mind” garnered some serious meaning for me after that QL finale; it still almost brings a tear to my eye when I hear it). The finale is the reward to the fan. It is that last image that they will cling to for eternity. It can be the toughest episode to create because it is going to have the greatest impact. Nothing that came before will mean squat if the finale sucks. (See Lost.)

  So, what the hell does any of that have to do with me? Well, as many of you may very well know, the proper DEAD series is coming to a conclusion. I expect to release DEAD: End (Book 12 of the DEAD series) on Halloween of this year. I am currently cobbling book 11, DEAD: Blood & Betrayal and am experiencing some tremors of nervousness as the book wraps. (I believe I have set a record for the lack of zombies in a zombie novel with this one.)

  I intend to go directly into the writing of DEAD: End immediately. This book has gone through so many possible conclusions in my head that I could write five “alternate ending” books. One of my earliest ideas was to give each major character a final chapter. Too bad most of them (major characters that is) did not survive to have a final chapter.

  I think I have settled on one story line's ending. I am not certain how I will get there, but that is half the fun for me as a writer. Still, even though I think the ending is kinda cool, that by no means carries over to how it will be received. I have learned over the past few years that things I see clearly can often be cloudy at best for my readers. (I thought I dropped enough clues when I began the Emily-zombie story line to explain the behavior of the child zombie...umm...NOPE! I still have folks asking what the deal with the child zombies is after book 9.)

  To say that I am feeling the pressure would be an understatement. You, my loyal reader, have embarked on this journey with me and trusted that I would take you to a satisfying conclusion. I have almost reached a point where the last paragraph has Pamela Ewing go into the bathroom where Bobby is taking a shower. Once she tells him about her “crazy dream” he says, “Wait until I tell you about mine! Spoiler, it has zombies in it!”

  I guess I am just saying that, like anything in the world of entertainment, not everybody is gonna love it. My biggest goal right now is to avoid comparisons to any of the shows mentioned in the opening paragraph.

  Oh well, I have until October before the calls rise up for the villagers to assemble with their torches. Right?

  “Do you have any tattoos, Janet?”

  TW Brown

  March 2015

  Thad and Scotty

  Still my friend
s after all the crazy stuff

  Contents

  Vignettes LXI

  Missing a Geek

  Hunter

  Vignettes LXII

  Making Her Geek Proud

  Superstitious Nonsense

  Vignettes LXIII

  Geek Wife on the Edge

  Dancing on the Head of a Pin

  Vignettes LXIV

  The Geek’s Wife Awakens

  Unlikely Pair

  Vignettes LXV

  The Geek’s Wife Makes Waves

  Bringer of Death

  Vignettes LXVI

  The Geek’s Wife Plants a Flag

  So Few Answers

  1

  Vignettes LXI

  Juan felt himself slip from consciousness. His last memory was seeing a pair of legs coming his direction. He wished desperately that he could see Mackenzie’s face as it was before she died, but the only image was that of the sallow-faced, tracer-riddled eyes that had consumed her beauty in those last days.

  The next thing he knew, Juan’s eyes were struggling to adjust to the flickering light of a fire. Through slitted eyelids, he could make out the log walls of a cabin. He was trying to decide if he was in a good place, or maybe this was a new and horrible basement scene like the one he’d endured at the hands of a crazy woman all those years ago.

  “You thirsty?” a man’s voice asked. It was rough, and sounded awkward.

  Great, Juan thought, zombies have finally learned how to talk.

  “Daddy!” a familiar chorus of squeals brought him fully awake, and Juan was now suddenly frantic. He was bound and unable to move. He began to squirm, desperate to come to the rescue of his daughters, Della and Denita.