Dext of the Dead (Book 2): We Are The Infected:

by Kuhn, Steve

  We all sort of looked at one another and shook our heads.

  Murphy nodded at us because he already knew the answer, saying, “No, you haven’t, but I have. I watched them pass on through yesterday. If you saw them, you wouldn’t be going anywhere near them. They got truckloads of dumbshits with them. Truck. Loads. You wanna travel like that, be my guest, but me an’ Fart ain’t leavin’ until we absolutely have to.”

  Fart huffed as Murphy ended the statement as if to punctuate her agreement.

  Truckloads of geeks? Man, fuck that. I don’t even want to think about that prospect. Whatever, though. Murphy could be full of shit. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he’s honest. Then again, why would he lie about that? I dunno. One thing’s for sure, we’ve invested way too much time and energy, and lives for that matter, to change the plan now. If Murphy wants to stay here, that’s on him. We’re outta here at the butt crack of dawn with or without him.

  We divided up the sitting room into areas to sleep, and I noted Rebecca and Trey opted to sleep together in the corner. I couldn’t care less, but Cutty keeps giving Trey the stink-eye about it. He and Wyatt are idly playing chess at the moment. Well, Wyatt’s trying to teach him how to play chess, that is. Earlier, Cutty taught Wyatt how to play dominoes, and it was hilarious. Wyatt was calling them ‘bones,’ and I caught him practicing how to say, “Domino, mutha fucka!” to himself like Cutty was doing.

  Things seem pretty chill here for the night. Tomorrow, we pick back up and hopefully catch Kilo Company… I just hope Murphy is wrong about what he saw. For now, sleep—actual, comfortable, safe sleep… Fuck yeah!

  Entry 57

  Ya know… every time something goes our way or we get lucky, it seems like we pay for it almost immediately. This morning has been so shitty that I’m beginning to get suspicious when stuff goes well.

  It started innocently enough with breakfast around the kitchen table. We were all comfortably munchin’ away on some stale bread and instant oatmeal when Fart popped her head up and growled at the blanketed window.

  Murphy stood up in a rehearsed motion and took a peek out the window. He didn’t seem too alarmed, and it was obvious that he and Fart had done this countless times in the past. “Got company,” he announced.

  Cutty moved to the other side of the window and had a look for himself. “Gon’ be easy. Ain’t but a few. I’m countin’ ’bout five.”

  Kylee suggested Wyatt stay in the house along with Trey, and neither of them objected. Can’t say I blame them for sittin’ one out. Hell, I kinda wish I would’ve stayed with them.

  Murphy left his shotgun propped against the wall, instead opting for a shovel. Cutty unsheathed his machetes and told Rebecca and I, “Don’t shoot unless we in real trouble. And make sure you don’t be missin’ either.”

  Murphy looked shocked at how quickly we were assembled and ready to move. He posted up at the door, and before opening it, he said, “Stay close to the house, y’all. I got traps all over this property, an’ I ain’t had a chance to show y’all where they are.”

  We all made brief eye contact and nodded. Murphy threw open the door, and we exited into the morning light.

  The house was dark as fuck because of all the blankets over the windows, so the sun hit us in the face like a sucker punch. I couldn’t see shit for a few moments. When I regained my sight, I was able to see that we were already down to four geeks in the front yard, as one of them had fallen into the same pit we got caught by yesterday.

  Murphy, with Fart close by his side, whistled to get the attention of the others, and they started towards us.

  All four looked to be in really bad shape. The heat had done a number on them, and they were terribly decayed. The three shambling slightly behind the one in the lead had hundreds of flies buzzing around them, and we could already smell them from nearly twenty feet away. The one ahead of the others had a hole straight through it, and I could see daylight on the other side… it looked like a gunshot victim. Some nasty shit, man, for real.

  What we failed to notice as we watched the incoming threat in the yard was the two others that were out of view, along the side of the house. As one of them latched onto Cutty and started snapping at his throat, he turned and stumbled clumsily into the middle of the yard in an effort to put some distance between himself and the geek.

  Murphy smacked the first with his shovel, and it fell to the ground. Before it could begin to get up again, he put the blade of the shovel between its teeth and stomped down hard. The entire top half of the geek’s head rolled away, leaving only the lower jaw and its rotted tongue attached to the body. This is where it all turned to shit…

  Rebecca raised her pistol to shoot the second one, but Kylee moved to stop her from firing because of the noise. As Kylee grabbed Rebecca’s free arm, Rebecca must’ve thought it was a deadhead. She reflexively swung the pistol around and nailed Kylee in the face, pistol-whip style. There was a spray of blood, and Kylee fell to the ground shrieking in pain, holding her eye.

  Fart chomped down on the wrist of the second house geek and pulled it to the ground so Murphy could dispatch that one as well. Murphy went apeshit and smacked that fucker like eight or nine times until its brain was oozing through cracks of bone onto the dirt.

  Cutty had regained his composure by this point and worked on the one with the hole in its chest. He swiped his left blade across its body, severing it clean in half, and finished it by hacking down with his right to destroy its head. I looked down to see Rebecca tending to Kylee and apologizing profusely, but Kylee was just writhing in pain.

  I shouted out to Cutty, “Bad sauce, Cutty! We’re down two people! Want me to start shootin’ or what, man?”

  He yelled back, “Naw, we good. I got this.”

  Sadly, he had spoken too soon. In the melee, he must’ve forgotten Murphy’s warning about the traps all around. Some sort of mechanism snapped, and a sapling that was lying on the ground swung up and smacked Cutty directly on his forehead, sending him reeling backwards. He dropped one of his blades and plunged into the deadfall where the other geek had disappeared moments earlier. He was gone.

  Murphy shouted, “Goddammit! Fart, git ’em, girl!”

  Fart shot across the gap between us and the deadheads and tackled one of the remaining three while Murphy yoked up Rebecca by the shirt and brought her to her feet. “Leave her for now, girl, and cover my ass with Sally here.”

  Can you believe that shit? Motherfucker called me ‘Sally.’ It’s whatever, though. It was another one of those ‘fuck it’ moments where it was do or die.

  I broke for Cutty’s dropped machete and went with Murphy, leaving Kylee on the ground for the time being. Murphy shovel-slapped one of the pair that remained standing and then turned his attention to the one Fart had pinned. That dog is bad as fuck! It had already ripped off one of the geek’s arms and had started in on the other as Murphy hacked down with the side of the shovel to finish it off. I went for the other and took a hard swing with Cutty’s blade. I caught it across the temple, and the machete sunk in hard all the way to the bridge of its nose. Well, it didn’t really have a nose anymore, but you know what I’m sayin’. It fell like a sack of potatoes, pulling the machete out of my hand with it. Murphy and I teamed up on the last one and just stomped the fuck out of it until it was done.

  Panting and wheezing, we stalked over to the deadfall and looked down. I was prepared for the worst, but it was all good. Cutty sat there on top of the biter that fell in first, holding his remaining machete.

  He looked up at us and said, “If I fall in dis muh fucka one mo’ ’gain, I’ma bust yo shit, Murph. Now help me up.”

  We managed to wrestle his fat ass outta there, but it was way harder than last time when we had four of us to help. Cutty dusted himself off and looked over at Kylee, who had managed to get to her feet, though she was still holding her eye and bleeding terribly. His eyes got wide, and I turned to face her as well when Cutty snapped, “Look out!”

&n
bsp; To Kylee’s blind side, one last biter was shambling at her from the other side of the house. We never even saw it in the chaos. It was within an arm’s reach of her as Fart took off in her direction and knocked her out of the way just in time.

  Kylee tumbled to the ground as Fart squared up to the biter and growled heavily, almost daring it to fuck with her. Blam! The biter’s head snapped back, and blood and gray matter sprayed the side of the house as it fell. I looked over my shoulder to see Rebecca lowering her smoking pistol with both hands. Then all was quiet.

  Trey and Wyatt were standing in the doorway. Wyatt ran over to help Kylee up and get her inside as Trey offered, “Well, that’s the last time anyone sits out. Next time, everybody helps. That was stupid.”

  Murphy spat on the ground and added, “Damn right it was stupid—stupid of me to let you people on the property in the first place.” And with that, he stalked into the house to tend to Kylee.

  Kylee was patched up in a few minutes, but her eye is fucked up bad. She says she can’t see anything at all out of it, which fucks us pretty hard when it comes to her rifle. She’s wearing a makeshift eyepatch-bandage thing that Murphy made for her, and she looks fucking retarded. Rebecca seems to have evened things out for the eye situation by downing the biter that almost killed Kylee, but those two still aren’t talking to each other very much.

  Bottom line is we aren’t leaving just yet because we need to make sure that Kylee can travel. Moreover, we owe it to Murphy to stick around a bit in case Rebecca’s gunshot brings more of the dead our way. I feel kinda shitty for imposing on him anyway, so maybe we can help sort some stuff around his property before we go. At the very least, we could help reset the traps we messed up.

  We all sat around the table for lunch, and Murphy grumpily served up some deer meat he had cured some time ago. We ate our fill, and there was a large hunk left on the serving plate in the middle of the table. Trey reached out to grab it, but Kylee pinned his hand to the table with her fork, causing him to wince in pain. She reached up with her other hand and grabbed the hunk of meat, tossing it to Fart, who caught it in her jaws and began to chew on it happily. Kylee leveled her good eye to Trey and hissed, “She’s earned it today…”

  Entry 58

  People piss me off. These dead fuckers walking around are predictable at least. They don’t have emotions, they don’t have signals or tells, they don’t fucking sparkle in the sunlight or any of that weak-ass shit. You always know what they’re gonna do. They’re gonna try and eat your Goddamn face off—it’s that simple. But people… the living ones… What a pain in the ass. You can never be sure how they’re gonna react or what they have up their sleeves. The living have different motives and are damn good at hiding them sometimes.

  Kylee’s been a bitch all day. I understand she’s upset. I really do. She’s a sniper and a damn good one… and now her eye is fucked up, probably permanently, but that’s really no reason to be shitty to the people around you. I’ve managed to avoid her most of the day, and I’m glad I did. I’d probably tell her to fuck off anyway because I’m in no mood for anybody’s shit right now. After Wyatt’s little unveiling this afternoon, I feel like I can’t trust anyone… starting with Murphy. So yeah, this morning was lame as hell, and the more the day has dragged on, the worse it’s gotten.

  After lunch, Wyatt approached everyone at the table and laid out a collection of papers. Murphy turned white as a ghost when they hit the table. Wyatt asked coolly, “Wanna talk about these, Murphy?”

  Murphy gathered his composure right quick and snapped, “You snooping little fuckwad! That there is none of your Goddamn business!”

  Wyatt shot back at him, “The hell it isn’t! Better start talkin’, or I’ma let Cutty open up a whole case of ‘fuck you up’ right here and now!”

  Fart detected Wyatt’s tone and stood up, keeping her head low and watching him closely.

  Cutty said, “Eeeeeasy, y’all. What’s goin’ on?”

  Trey snatched up the stack and snapped, “Lemme see this shit.” His eyes boggled, and he dropped them back down on the table as he looked from Wyatt to Murphy.

  Wyatt said, “Yeah, Trey, exactly. I found this shit when the others were outside. Seems Murphy isn’t a ‘civil engineer’ after all. He’s got PhD’s coming out his ass all right, but he left out one very critical word… ‘Genetic.’ Murphy is a genetic engineer.”

  Trey added, “And this stack of papers here is sayin’ a whole lot about ‘dead’ this and ‘reanimation’ that…”

  It was right about here when I started to feel my own blood boiling. We were sitting there breaking bread with someone who has insider knowledge of what’s been going on and is directly related to the shit we’ve been through this whole time… and he didn’t mention a word of it! Motherfucker!

  Murphy stammered a few words, so I decided I’d help him along with his explanation by drawing down on him. I aimed my piece right across the table at him and told him, “Figure it out quick, asshole.”

  It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, I’ll admit. I lost my cool. Sue me… Hah! You can’t sue me… All the lawyers are dead—one can only hope anyway. But Fart made a move towards me because of my threatening posture.

  Rebecca pulled her pistol out and took aim at Fart, telling Murphy, “Call off that dog, or I’ll shoot it right now.”

  Kylee stood up fast as fuck with a steak knife in hand, putting the blade to Rebecca’s throat as she growled, “That dog did more to save my life today than you ever have… Fire on that dog, and I will slice your fuckin’ throat.”

  Cutty jumped up, trying to cool everyone down with, “Y’all, don’t be stupid now… Le’s jus’ talk a minute…Kylee, you ain’t gon’ do dat over no dog now, is you?”

  Kylee shot her good eye at Cutty and hissed, “She’s your kin, not mine. I couldn’t give a fuck less about her.”

  Yep, it just got worse from there. Trey drew down and pressed the barrel of his gun to Kylee’s temple, suggesting, “Drop it, or I’ma redecorate these walls with the inside of your head.”

  All the loyalties showed their ugly heads just then. It was like a bitch-ass Mexican standoff.

  Murphy made the first move with, “Fart, lay down!”

  The dog backed away and lay prone, but never took her eyes off of me. Everyone slowly chilled out, but the tension was palpable. In hindsight, it was actually good that shit got that crazy for a second because when everyone sat back down, the conversation was less heated and more focused.

  Murphy began by saying, “Look, I did a lot of shit back in those days. We never knew exactly what we were doin’. We just carried out the experiments that were on our paperwork. I was in charge of infusing human tissue samples with a new substance called ‘spark’ and documenting the results. That’s it. After a while, they started bringin’ in cadavers… dead people. They brought my team the body of a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than three years old. I was told to cut her up and start using that ‘spark’ shit on her organs and whatnot… I jus’ couldn’t do it. I refused to defile that little girl, and I was forced to resign. Problem was, I ain’t never been one to go quietly, and that day was no different. As soon as I started shootin’ off my mouth and writin’ papers about what we were doing there, the wife and I started gettin’ stuff in the mail—some bullshit about our land being seized for tax fraud, and then they took our house and everything. It was all backed up by legal documents, so we couldn’t do shit but take it in the ass. I knew those government pricks were behind it, but what could I do? I wrote a letter to the board of directors and threatened to go public about the whole plot… everything from the experiments to my loss of property. I got one back that pretty much told me to shut the fuck up. Then one day, my Eleanor went to the grocery store and never came back… I ain’t no dummy… They took her away to teach me a lesson. This little shack is all I got left… That’s why I went off the grid.”

  Cutty looked at Murphy and said, “Nigga, stop playin’!
You know you bullshittin’.”

  But Murphy just shook his head and said, “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Like I said, you wanna go and find your little military unit for salvation, go for it. I know how this shit started, and I know they ain’t gonna stop trying to sort out the mess they made… and the lengths they’ll go to get results. I want nothing to do with it.”

  He looked at Wyatt and added, “Sorry about that ‘little fuckwad’ comment, by the way, but y’all got me fair and square.”

  Wyatt suggested, “Either way, you’re a dead man walkin’ in this place. Doesn’t matter whose fault it is, but the bottom line is that the gunshot earlier is gonna bring them in. You said yourself that they were migrating out from the city.”

  Trey backed Wyatt’s play with, “Yeah, I mean, we’re still gonna be catching up with them folks eventually, but now that we know what we know, we’re gonna be much more cautious about how we approach it. You could still run with us for a while. You damn sure can’t stay here for much longer.”

  Cutty jumped in with, “Look here, Mista Murph… You go on and sleep on it. That seems ta help me out when I can’t choose in a hurry. Jes’ sleep on it. If you feel tha same way tomorrow, we be gon’ without ya.”

  Right about then, Fart let out a deep but not very loud, “Oof,” and stood at attention towards the back door.

  Fuck… not again, man.

  Twilight had begun to set in, so the light was waning fast as we hit the door. Everyone was outside this time, and we all posted up in a bit of a semicircle. A single figure approached through the low light. It was clearly human, and we could make out a large stick in its hand, sweeping from side to side like a blind person would do.

  Everyone took aim.

  Snap! One of Murphy’s traps sprung where the figure’s stick was poking around, and the shadowy form dodged deftly to the right, avoiding the rope snare that shot up from under the leaves.

  I called out a warning, saying, “Don’t move! We’ll shoot you where you stand!”