Undead Flesh

by Dennis McDonald

  “It seemed the right thing to do after you saved my daughter’s life.”

  “You could’ve just moved on with your family. Jack, I would’ve understood. I’m just a stranger to you.”

  “Strangers become friends pretty damn quick when they fight zombies together.”

  “Point taken,” she said. “I just have one question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where did you get the Mossberg?”

  He pulled back and looked into her dark eyes. “Don’t tell me your narc ex-boyfriend taught you about shotguns, too?”

  She chuckled and picked up the firearm. “Twelve-gauge Mossberg 500 series. Eight-round capacity, which you’ve already fired, so it’s empty. I like the nice pistol grip instead of a stock. Very cool. Police and security forces tend to use this weapon a lot. That also goes for the radio on your hip.”

  “Okay, Sherlock, give me the gun back.” Jack took the shotgun.

  “So where did you get it?”

  “After you knocked Frank Cooper off the bridge, would you believe he climbed back on it again? I had to fight the big bastard myself. I was so pissed I hit him over and over with a piece of board, but he didn’t feel it. That’s when Doug’s grandfather, Max, showed up just in time. The old guy was a Marine sniper in Vietnam and blew Frank’s head off with one shot from fifty yards away. He loaned me the radio and shotgun so I could find for you. The rest of my family is waiting up at his farm. Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Let’s pretend for a moment that I don’t really believe you’re just some biker’s old lady? I’ve seen you handle a pistol and you sure know a hell of a lot about police shotguns. Who are you for real, Telia?”

  “I guess it’s stupid to keep it secret anymore.” She reached into the side of her boot, removed a plastic wallet, and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it.”

  He flipped it open. Inside was a water-soaked law-enforcement identification badge with the letters DEA in bold print above her picture. “You’re a cop,” he said, surprised.

  “I’m an undercover drug-enforcement agent on loan to OSBI.”

  “OSBI?”

  “Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation. Someone’s been running a major meth lab in this area. I was working undercover to infiltrate some of the local bike gangs to pinpoint the source.”

  Jack handed the ID back to her. “You’re the second person to mention a meth lab today.”

  “Oh?”

  “That kid, Doug, mentioned it. He said people were cooking meth over at a place called Harrison. Do you know about it?”

  “I heard it was a ghost town.”

  “Not according to him. He says people are living there in some Christian wacko cult. I heard gunshots coming from the place earlier today.”

  “That’s interesting but pointless.” She shrugged. “The government is more worried about fighting zombies than meth dealers now.”

  “You’re so right, girl. The whole world is at war against the zombie apocalypse. I’ll tell you about it on the way to the farm.” He pulled out the radio and activated the call button. “Max?”

  “Yep,” he radioed back.

  “I found Telia and she’s fine. We are coming back, so don’t shoot us.”

  “Roger that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  With Telia walking at his side, Jack left Osage Creek behind and headed in the direction of the Saunders farm. By now the shadowy sun had dropped below the western horizon, taking with it any remaining daylight. They topped the hill and found the farm waiting at the bottom of the other side. The modest property consisted of a rustic two-story farmhouse and a large metal barn where the low hum of an electric generator resonated inside. Lights showed through the first-floor windows of the house, and parked in the front yard next to a tall flagpole flying the American flag sat the black Jeep.

  When they drew nearer to the house, Max materialized like a phantom from the porch shadows, his scoped sniper rifle crooked in one arm.

  “So glad you two are safe,” he said.

  Jack nodded toward Telia. “Max, I want you to meet the bravest girl I ever met.”

  “The name’s Telia,” she said with a smile.

  “Max Saunders. Jack didn’t tell me how pretty you are. It’s been a long time since we’ve had so many lovely women on the place.”

  The front door to the house burst open and Brett came dashing out and into Jack’s arms.

  “Dad, you’re back,” he said.

  “Yeah, I had to shoot a few zombies down by the creek,” he said, hugging him close. “Telia gave me a new name. It’s Jack the Zombie Killer.”

  “Cool.”

  “I was beginning to worry about you,” Kate said from the open front door.

  Jack released his son and studied Kate standing in the lighted doorway. She had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a tight long-sleeve graphic T-shirt. It had been years since she had worn anything so contemporary. He’d forgotten how sexy she looked when she wasn’t wearing her Church Lady garb.

  “How’s Kerri?” he said.

  “A lot better now. She’s awake and wants to talk to you.”

  “Good.” Jack stepped onto the porch. “Where did you get the clothes?”

  “From Doug.” She adjusted her jeans. “They’re more age-appropriate for Kerri, but it’s all I could find that fit.”

  He kissed her soft lips. “You look great.”

  “I feel awkward.” She glanced at Telia, still speaking with Max. “She’s very fortunate you went to rescue her.”

  “It’s more like she rescued me. I got attacked by zombies and she saved me from being eaten.”

  “I see.” Kate brushed past him, stepped off the porch, and approached Telia. She held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Jack’s wife, Kate.”

  “Telia Morgan.”

  Jack left the two women chatting and entered the house. The interior could only have been described as a large man cave desperately crying for a woman’s touch. Vietnam War memorabilia and mounted deer heads fought with movie posters of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood for space on the walls. Reclining chairs and long leather-upholstered couches were strategically arranged in front of a large flat-screen TV in the living room. There were no flowery window curtains or throw pillows on the furniture. Kerri lay on a couch under an Army blanket while Doug perched on a nearby coffee table. He held her uninjured hand and talked to her in a soft voice.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  “Dad,” Kerri said.

  Doug released her hand and stood. “Welcome back, Mr. G.”

  Jack didn’t reply but gave a hard stare, conveying how much he didn’t like their hand-holding.

  Doug got the message. “I guess I’d better go. Granddad wants me to take first watch in case zombies wander onto the farm.” He excused himself and headed out the front door. Max and the others entered the house and retreated into the dining room.

  Jack placed the shotgun on the coffee table and sat on the couch next to Kerri. “Your mom said you wanted to talk to me?”

  She showed a weak smile. “Thanks for carrying me over the bridge.”

  “I’m not sure carrying your daughter over a zombie-infested bridge is in the Father’s Playbook, but if it’s not, we just wrote a new chapter.” He brushed a strand of brown hair out of her face. “But you should thank Telia. She saved both our asses.”

  “I will.”

  “Let me see your hand.”

  She removed it from under the blanket. The bandage gave it the appearance of an oversize mitten.

  “If you paste some decorations on it, you might make a fashion statement like Michael Jackson did with his single sequined glove,” he said.

  “Michael Jackson wore one glove with sequins?”

  “I guess it was a little before your time.” Jack patted her arm. “Get some rest now.”

&nbs
p; He picked up the shotgun and headed toward the dining room.

  “Dad?” Kerri said before he walked away.

  “Yeah?” He turned toward her.

  “I’m sorry about the way I’ve been acting.” She held out her arms for a hug. “I’ve been such a spoiled bitch.”

  “Don’t say that, baby.” Jack wrapped his arms around her. “I wasn’t always the father you needed. I understand how you feel, because I resented my dad, too. He was a drunk bastard and I swore to never be like that for my kids. I turned out to be just like him, but I’m over that now. I’ll never touch another drink again as long as I live. I promise.”

  “I love you, Dad,” Kerri said through her tears.

  “I love you, too, baby. More than you’ll ever know.” He released his embrace. “You really have to get some rest now.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Oh, and one more thing. Try to give Doug a chance. He’s a nice guy. Not every boy I meet wants sex.”

  “Girl, you still got a lot to learn,” Jack said, tucking the blanket around her just as he had when she was five years old. “I’ll be in the other room, so get some sleep now.”

  “Okay.”

  * * * *

  The Saunders’ dining room looked more like a war room than a place where people gathered to eat. Surrounded by six plain chairs, the utilitarian hardwood table had no cloth or centerpieces to add a touch of color. An assortment of war photographs hung in glass frames on three of the walls; a Marine flag was draped on the fourth. Brett was sitting at one end of the table and examining a scale model of an Army half-track vehicle when Jack entered. Max came in from the kitchen with a Budweiser in his hand. “Cold beer in the fridge, Jack. We’re running on minimal power with the generator, but the refrigerator is working, and so are some of the lights.”

  “I’ll pass on the beer,” he said, placing the shotgun on the table.

  “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but the quake may have damaged my propane tank. I don’t trust cooking with gas until I check it out.”

  “Water would be nice.”

  Kate entered holding a large glass. “I just brewed you some tea.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be in the kitchen fixing something for us to eat. There aren’t many options in the refrigerator. How does bologna and cheese sandwiches sound?”

  “Fine.”

  After she returned to the kitchen, Max chuckled. “She’s a pretty woman, Jack. You should be proud. I’ve been single for a while, as if you couldn’t tell. My wife walked out on me about ten years ago. I did date a widow woman down the road, but she died of cancer last year, and it’s been me and the boy ever since. Women and I don’t always see eye to eye over my decorating choices. It can cause a bit of friction sometimes.” He slapped a palm on the table. “Damn it! A man’s home is his castle, I say.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Jack raised his glass and sipped the tea. “Where’s Telia?”

  “She wanted to find something dry to wear, so I sent her upstairs to pick something from Doug’s closet.”

  “I see.” Jack sat in one of the hard-backed chairs. “I’m beat. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted in my life.”

  “Did you say you shot zombies down by the creek?” Max said.

  “It was the group that fell off the bridge, but they won’t be bothering us.” He placed a hand on the Mossberg. “Thanks to this baby.”

  “It’s a good thing you know how to shoot it. We need all the capable fighters we can muster to protect the farm.” Max waved a hand at the room. “What do you think of my humble home, Jack? As soon as we eat and get rested, I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

  “I can’t tell you how thankful I am, Max. You didn’t have to take us in and care for my daughter the way you did.”

  “Stow that, Jack. We’re all in the same boat and have to help each other survive.” He took a long swig of beer and put it back on the table. “You’re like family now. As for your daughter, I’ve given her some antibiotics I had here in the house. The major concern now is to fight off any infection and keep her wound from going septic. As a dentist, you know how bad that can be. She really needs rest.”

  “Were you a soldier in a war?” Brett said, looking over the glass frames on the walls. “Is that you in those pictures?”

  “It sure is, son.” Max crossed over to Brett and placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’re from a little war called Vietnam. That’s me and my platoon buddies in 1968. Funny thing, because of our high mortality rate, the platoon was nicknamed the Walking Dead. It seems kind of ironic now. My war stories all pale in comparison to what we’re up against now, but I can tell you that a lot of good Marines died in those jungles,” Max raised his beer toward the Marine flag. “Semper Fi.”

  Telia entered the room. She had changed into a long-sleeve flannel shirt but still wore her black leather pants and boots. Her dark hair was tied back.

  “I couldn’t find any pants to fit, so I’ll have to keep wearing the leather,” she said.

  “I’m not complaining,” Max said. “What about you, Jack?”

  “Not at all.”

  Telia laughed and pointed at Max’s Budweiser. “Is it possible for a girl to get one of those cold beers?”

  “I’ll fetch one from the fridge,” Max said.

  After he left, Telia looked around the room. “Nice décor. Reminds me of when I was in Iraq.”

  “You served in Iraq?” Jack said, surprised for a second time.

  “Two tours from ’02 to ’06.”

  Max entered and handed her a cold Bud Light. “Did I hear you say you’re an Iraq vet?”

  “I was deployed with the Oklahoma National Guard and served in over 200 combat patrols as a military intelligence officer. I originally trained to be a helicopter pilot, but that fell through.” She popped the top off the Bud. “I had a little problem with my commanding officer.”

  “Then here’s to your service.” Max held up his bottle in another toast.

  “And to yours,” she said.

  They clinked their bottles.

  “I feel left out in such distinguished company. I’m just a lowly dentist from St. Louis with no military service.” Jack sipped his tea.

  “Yeah, but you’re a fighter, Jack. You showed that on the bridge.”

  “And down at the creek,” Telia added.

  “I guess it all depends on what you have to protect,” Jack said and reached out to hold his son close.

  Kate entered from the kitchen with a plate full of sandwiches. “Hon, please remove the shotgun from the table so we can eat,” she said nonchalantly, as if there was a shotgun on their dinner table every night.

  He propped the Mossberg against the wall behind him. “Sure thing.”

  “Where’s Doug?” she said, placing the plate on the table.

  “I put him on watch,” Max said. “We can take a sandwich out to him later.”

  Kate sat in a chair at the other end of the table and lowered her head. The rest remained silent, their heads bowed in respect.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for this meal,” she prayed. “Please do not forsake us in this time of great despair. Your wrath is mighty. Please show mercy to your children and to the world, I beg you. Amen.”

  “Amen,” everyone at the table echoed before digging into the pile of sandwiches as if it were Thanksgiving dinner. Jack couldn’t remember the last time he had been so hungry. For a full minute, there was no sound except for the sound of their munching.

  Max broke the silence. “Telia served in Iraq,” he said to Kate.

  “Oh?” Kate gave Telia a surprised look.

  “I took shrapnel from an IED in my leg and was sent home.”

  “What’s an IED?” Brett said.

  “Improvised explosive device. It was set to go off on the roadside when our Humvee drove past. I was lucky to get out with just a leg wound. The private next to me was blown to bloody bits.”

  Kate
gagged as she took a bite of her sandwich.

  “I’m sorry,” Telia said. “I forgot we’re eating.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Kate said, waving her hand. “You’d think after all I’ve seen today I’d have a stronger stomach. I would’ve never guessed you to be a soldier. Are you married?”

  “Single. I was engaged to someone who was deployed to Afghanistan.” Telia’s dark eyes focused on the Marine flag. “He didn’t get to come back home. I haven’t met anybody else. I’ve kept myself busy working.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “It seems our little biker girl is chock-full of surprises,” Jack said and looked at Telia. “I think it’s time to put everything on the table, so to speak.”

  All eyes turned toward her.

  “I guess so.” She reached into her boot, pulled out her law-enforcement ID, and slid it down the table to Max. “I’m an undercover DEA agent working with OSBI. I was investigating a major meth operation in this area.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Max said, looking over her ID. “You’re a cop.”

  “After I came back from Iraq, I went into law enforcement.”

  “Like on NCIS?” Brett said with wide-eyed admiration.

  “Something like that,” Telia said with a chuckle. “That’s over with now. I’m just like everyone else here trying to survive the end of the world.”

  “But your expertise is invaluable to us,” Max said. “You’ve been trained to shoot a gun and handle yourself in combat. I was just telling Jack we need all the fighters we can get. Who knows how many zombies will show up here over the next few days or weeks?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “As for any meth being cooked in the area,” Max said, handing the badge back to her, “I know who you need to arrest. It’s those Cordell boys. They’re all three crazier than bugshit. One night I caught them on my land trying to steal some ammonia from my fertilizer tanks. I also suspect they’ve been rustling my cows, because I’ve seen their cattle truck driving around my property. I told the county sheriff next time those hellions came around my farm I would put a bullet between their eyes. He told me his only concern was that I make sure they’re on my land when I pull the trigger. If there’s any meth operation in the area, I’ll bet they’re neck-deep in it.”