Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead

by Pembroke Sinclair

  He buried his head in my shoulder. I stroked the back of his hair. We sat like that for several moments. Eventually, he lifted his head but didn’t pull away.

  Resting his forehead against mine, he gazed into my eyes. “We can’t worry about them now. They know how to take care of themselves. As much as I want to help them, we have others to help first.”

  “I know. But you are still entitled to your feelings. If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

  He kissed me. “I know. But we have a job to do.”

  He turned away and opened his door. I watched him fire a few shots before I rolled down my window and fired at the first creature who wandered into my sights.

  The mall seemed more humid than I remembered it. We stood in darkness, shining our flashlights at nothing.

  “Hello?” Quinn called. “Anybody here?”

  “Maybe they’ve moved on,” I whispered.

  “I doubt it. The boards over the windows look new.” He took a step farther into the room. “Hello?”

  I didn’t want to remind him about the last time we were here and how hundreds of undead converged on the place. They probably damaged the old boards trying to claw their way in. But I did see his point. If they left, there would be no need to replace them. They could just let the creatures overrun the building. That didn’t make me feel better. The leader guy wasn’t very happy the last time we were there. In fact, he was downright angry. He wanted to keep his people safe, and who could blame him? How would he react when we told him he might be gunned down by soldiers from Florida? Would he let us leave alive?

  “They’re probably in another store in the mall. We should check it out.” He wandered through the clothes racks.

  Taking a deep breath, I followed behind him.

  We were about half way through Sears when we heard the shuffling. I immediately froze. I wasn’t worried it was a zombie, it didn’t sound like one, but I didn’t want to be attacked again. They almost killed me the first time, and I had full use of both my arms. I doubted they would take it easy on me just because I was injured. I was still a little bitter about our last meeting in the mall. I didn’t realize how much it affected me until I stood in the dark once again. I shone my light around the room, trying to find the person. Even with my injury, if they decided to jump me, I was going to put up one hell of a fight. Skulking around in the dark. How fair was that? If I could see them coming, they wouldn’t get the upper hand. I thought their actions were cowardly.

  “Who’s there?” Quinn called. “We don’t mean you any harm. We’re here to warn you.”

  “About what?” the rough voice called through the darkness.

  It was hard to pinpoint, but it sounded like it came from my right. I shone my light in that direction.

  “Show yourself and we’ll tell you,” I called.

  A light clicked on in the distance, and Quinn and I were illuminated in white. We turned to see the source, squinting against the brightness.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” the voice said. “Wait here.”

  Frozen in the light, we heard the person walk off. I glanced at Quinn, who shielded his eyes, trying to see past the light. That didn’t sound reassuring. He remembered us, which meant they might be mad at us. I hoped they would let us deliver our warning before threatening to kill us. Or actually murdering us.

  More footsteps approached, and the overhead lights clicked on. The spotlight clicked off. With a white blob dancing in front of my eyes, I tried to focus on the group standing in front of us. Their features were a little hard to discern, but I could tell there were about ten of them. The leader, the guy with the graying hair, stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. He sighed.

  “I thought I told you two never to return.”

  Quinn held his hands out to his sides. “I know, but we needed to warn you.”

  The man cleared his throat and tried to hide the agitation in his voice. “About what?”

  “Florida has helicopters.”

  The room was silent for a long time. The man stared at us. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or didn’t believe us or what. His face showed no emotion. My discomfort grew with each passing second that he didn’t speak. If there was a clock in the room, I’m sure I would have heard it ticking. Finally, he sighed and jerked his head to the right.

  “Follow me. Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable.”

  We followed the man through the store to the opening that led to the rest of the mall. The chain gate had been opened, and as we passed through, it was pulled shut. It clambered closed with a rattle and the squeak of metal on metal. I cringed. Every zombie within a one-mile radius probably heard that. Not that it mattered; they could take care of them very easily from the roof.

  We were led to the old food court. The tables and chairs were still in place, but couches and recliners also lined the area. The survivors made use of the several kitchens in the area, too. I don’t know how they did it, but they had the cook tops working, and I could smell their dinner. The scent of bacon and potatoes drifted into my nostrils, followed by the unmistakable scent of cookies. I couldn’t remember the last time I smelled fresh-baked cookies. It brought back a flood of emotions and memories of my mom. I thought about cold Saturdays mixing the dough while snow fell gently outside the window. I would sneak bites of the uncooked goodness. I didn’t care what Mom said, something that tasted that good couldn’t have salmonella in it. I was convinced she just told me that because she wanted to hoard the dough for herself. When we baked cookies, the oven made the kitchen so warm and comfortable, like my favorite blanket. The world outside didn’t matter. The only worry was making sure the cookies didn’t burn. The smell reminded me of happiness and safety.

  I inhaled deeply through my nose, savoring the sweetness. My mouth watered and my stomach growled. Because of my exhaustion, I had to fight back bursting into tears. With everything that happened within the past several weeks, my greatest desire was to be back home, to be with my parents, to be safe. It would never happen, I knew that, and it made me sad. Normally, I was able to push the depression deep down. I could force myself to focus on whatever task was at hand, to push the memories aside, but it was getting more and more difficult. There were too many things we had to accomplish, too many tasks that bordered on the impossible, and they seemed to stack up. It was getting to the point where I just wanted to give up. Throw my good hand in the air and let someone else take care of it. I was too young to be burdened with saving the world. And I was tired. So very tired.

  Several people were engaged in conversation as we approached, but they stopped and stared at us. I knew their looks were out of curiosity, but it didn’t help my mood. I tried to keep my face emotionless, but I wasn’t accomplishing it. My face was sour, my anger showing through. How could these people be sitting in here, baking cookies, when the world was going to hell? Why weren’t they doing something? Why weren’t they taking action? They had the fire power to make a difference, and they were content hiding in the mall. I balled my hand into a fist and clenched my jaw. Don’t judge these people until you know their story, I told myself. I took a couple of deep breaths.

  The man led us to a collection of couches and chairs at the far end of the dining room. The area was set up just like a living room with a coffee table, end tables, and lamps. They even had magazines on the coffee table.

  Quinn and I took a seat on the couch, the man sat on a recliner across from us. He sat on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Now, please tell me exactly why Florida having helicopters should be of concern to me?”

  A girl approached and set a tray on the table. It held cookies and mugs of coffee. Quinn and I thanked her, and she walked away. I noticed she wore a new pair of jeans and tank top. We had our share of new clothes, but they didn’t stay that way for long. I bit my tongue, keeping comments about being sheltered to myself. We made our decisions, just like they did. I couldn’t hold it against them for not kno
wing an honest day’s labor. I’m sure they had their hardships. They just weren’t obvious. I picked up a cup of coffee and a cookie.

  “We’re concerned they might patrol the area, see you and the other survivors, and mistake you for us. We just want to make sure you’re going to be safe.”

  The man leaned back in the chair. He interlaced his fingers, all of them except for his index fingers, and brought them to his lips. He stared at us for a moment.

  “I still don’t understand what you mean.”

  Quinn glanced at me. I shrugged one shoulder and focused on my cookie. I bit into it. It was soft, warm, and the chocolate was half melted. It dissolved on my tongue. I closed my eyes, savoring the sweetness. If I died at that moment, I would have been happy. It was the best cookie I ever tasted.

  “They might come after you because of what happened in North Platte.”

  “What happened in North Platte?” the girl who brought us the cookies asked.

  “Yes, please enlighten us.”

  I shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth, hoping it would choke back the anger that threatened to explode. I chewed slowly; the exertion of the movement brought my emotions under control. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t know what happened in North Platte. They lived a sheltered life. Communication wasn’t what it used to be. How would they know what was going on in the rest of the world? Why would they care? Why would they bother finding out what was happening to other survivors, other humans, as long as they were happy and safe? I fought back every urge in my body to stand from the couch and leave. I wanted to tell them never mind, deal with the situation any way they wanted to. We had enough crap to deal with, we didn’t need theirs. But I knew what Quinn would say, and, deep down, I knew staying was the right thing to do. Even if they were sheltered jerks, they still didn’t deserve to be blown off the face of the Earth. They deserved a fighting chance.

  Quinn calmly told them about Liet and the uprising, but I knew it was a struggle for him. He had his hands folded between his legs, his knuckles were white. He was even more tired than I was. I took a nap in the truck. I imagined how frustrated and irritated he was. I ate another cookie while I waited for him to finish.

  When he was done, the man sat quietly, absorbing the information. The girl shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Without warning, the man slammed his hands onto the arms of the recliner and pushed himself up. I jerked with surprise and almost spilled my coffee.

  “Well, we appreciate you taking the time to warn us, but we can take care of ourselves.” He gestured with an open hand toward the way we came in.

  “Duncan,” the girl whispered and stepped forward. She was going to say more, but Duncan held up his hand to silence her.

  “We have been in this city for a long time now. We keep a vigilant eye. No one will get the upper hand on us.”

  Quinn stood. “I hope you’re right. I really do. They won’t think twice about shooting you from the sky.”

  Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “And if it weren’t for you and your rebellion, we wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

  By that point, I had enough. I slammed my cookie onto the table before getting to my feet.

  “You can’t blame us for wanting a better life. We didn’t have the luxury in North Platte you have here.” I fluttered my hand around the room, indicating the mall.

  Duncan stared at me. “We all made our choices. I shouldn’t feel sorry, or have to pay, for the ones you made.”

  “And what about reclaiming what’s ours? What about killing the zombies and taking back America?”

  “We’re fine where we’re at. We don’t need anything more.”

  “Duncan,” the girl said again. I heard the disappointment in her voice.

  I hoped she would say more, maybe take our side and convince Duncan to do something, but she just walked away.

  Quinn huffed. His face turned red, and I knew he was doing everything in his power to stay calm. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, then walked away. I narrowed my eyes and stared at Duncan. I shook my head. There were so many things I could have said to him, so many things I wanted to tell him. I could have given him a speech about taking pride in his nation and wanting a better life for his followers, for his children. I could have told him he would be a hero, that future generations would tell his story for years and years, but I didn’t. I didn’t waste my breath. Instead, I followed Quinn out of the building.

  We sat in the parking lot for a long time. The engine ran, and Quinn stared out the windshield.

  “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.” He didn’t look at me. “Not even a thank you.”

  “Why would you think he was going to thank you? He probably thinks we’re the ones who doomed him.”

  He took a deep breath. “I know. And that sucks.” He looked at me. “What other choice did we have? If we didn’t say anything and The Families found him, he’d blame me. Now, he blames me for warning him. It was a situation we couldn’t win.”

  I placed my hand on his thigh. “But at least we’ll have a clear conscience. Whatever they do now, that’s on them.”

  He took my hand in his. “You’re right. I can’t save them all. I knew that when I started this. It doesn’t make it easier, but at least I know I’m doing the best I can.” He forced a smile before putting the truck in gear. “What do you say we get a couple of hours of sleep before heading back to Dashton.”

  I patted his leg. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the jail.

  I stared at him as we drove down the road. Quinn was always so confident, so sure of himself. Even in the direst situations, he remained calm. I had no doubts we’d be victorious in North Platte because Quinn was by my side. He had faith, so I did too. After the last few weeks, I could tell his confidence faltered, unraveling at the edges. He still tried to portray calmness and stay in control, but I could tell he didn’t feel it. I doubted anyone else noticed, they didn’t know him the same way I did.

  On one hand, it scared me that he was frightened. He was supposed to be the rock. On the other hand, it was refreshing. He was human. He didn’t have to be strong all the time. He was allowed to have feelings. I knew no matter what lay ahead of us, we were going to face it together. We were going to be each other’s support. We had to be. We couldn’t count on anyone else.

  CHAPTER 7

  Quinn was really tired, and he slept soundly. I heard him snoring in the cell next to mine. Even after a cup of coffee, I was able to sleep for a few hours. It was nice. It helped refresh me. When I woke up, though, my shoulder ached. I wasn’t quite ready to get up, so I lay in bed, hoping the pain would go away. I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation with Duncan, either. I realized the reason they had survived for so long was because they stayed out of other people’s affairs. If I could live blissfully in a mall and bake cookies all day, I would do it too. But the outside world doesn’t stay outside for long. It finds a way in. You can’t ignore it. No matter how hard you try, eventually you have to face it. I wondered what they were going to do when they couldn’t ignore it anymore. I wondered if they would try to find us, volunteer to help. I doubted it.

  The pain grew so intense, I couldn’t lay down anymore. I slowly sat up and draped my feet over the edge. I ran my hand down my face. I expected things to be difficult, especially since we dealt with and fought against people who were older and had more experience, but I never imagined it would be almost impossible.

  Looking back, we were lucky to overtake North Platte. The guards didn’t have to give up as easily as they did. They could have fought bitterly. We would have eventually won. We had numbers on our side, but the death toll could have been a lot greater. We were also lucky when Mrs. Johnson’s bodyguard came up. They could have wiped us out right then and there. Instead, they waited. It gave us enough time to get out and to safety. Well, relative safety. At least the workers had a better
chance against zombies than they did against rocket launchers and helicopters.

  As with everything, luck eventually runs out.

  Obviously, our supply was getting low. But that didn’t mean we could give up. As much as I wanted to, as much as I wanted to tell Quinn I was done and wait for him at the ranch, I knew I couldn’t. I knew my conscience would get the better of me. I couldn’t live with that decision. I had to stick it out, see it to the end. Even if the end meant death. At least I would have tried. No one could fault me for that.

  I stood from the bed and shuffled to the door. I untwisted the tie. I grunted and struggled against the metal, gritting my teeth. It wasn’t easy doing it one handed, but I didn’t want to wake Quinn. He needed to sleep. He needed to collect his thoughts. I finally got it undone and headed to the admissions desk. I opened the duffel bag and pulled out some painkillers and a bottle of water. I tilted my head back to swallow and stared at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I wondered what we were going to do next. The first priority was to take out Florida, but how were we going to do it? We were grossly outnumbered and out technologized. The one thing we did have was determination, and that won many wars. I hoped it was enough.

  A slapping sound, like bare feet on linoleum, resounded through the room. I turned, expecting to see Quinn. No one was there. I walked to his cell and peered through the bars. He still lay on the bed, his back toward me. I shrugged and headed back to the desk. The sound came again, followed by a rustling. Confusion flowed through me as I looked around the room. Where was that sound coming from? The door was still shut, locked up tight. I knew the sound wasn’t coming from my room. It had to be coming from Quinn’s. What else could it be? I took another drink of my water. The slapping sounded again, a little louder, and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to my left. I looked on the floor, at the corner of the admission’s desk. The water flew out of my mouth. I wanted to scream, but the sound caught in my throat.