Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  The door rattled again and this time, the dresser was partially bucked into the room. Tomas shot something in the face, but another Z was right there to take its place.

  The last bar wasn’t budging. I was pretty sure Dori would be able to squeeze out of the room and maybe Joel Kelly, too, but I was stuck. Tomas was portly, so he wasn’t going, either. Maybe we could shoot out the wall and crash through. Maybe we could slither up into the ceiling after bashing a hole with my wrench.

  Both options were pretty far-fetched. With my luck I’d get halfway into the ceiling only to be dragged back into the room while a pair of Zs ate my legs.

  Dori looked over her shoulder, fear etched upon her face. She pressed the wrench head onto the last bar, but up high this time.

  Joel had a few boxes on the ground and he was going through them, but a whole lot of cursing accompanied his actions.

  “I’ll hold. You kick,” Dori said.

  “What if I break your wrist or hand?”

  “Take risk or we die,” she nodded toward the door.

  “Fuck it,” I muttered.

  “Exactly. Fuck it,” she said.

  Dori held the wrench low on the grip and then dropped down as far as she could. I lifted my leg and braced myself on the window frame. I put my foot up and pressed against the wrench. If I didn’t get this right, she’d have some broken digits.

  I pulled my foot back and then kicked the wrench handle, but I was so concerned about her hand that I barely tapped it.

  The dresser got pushed halfway into the room; a pair of very determined and very freshly turned Zs pushed on the door until it gave.

  Joel stumbled back, managed to load his handgun, snapped the magazine home, lifted, aimed, and blew one of the bastards' heads off. The guy had been dressed in a sky-blue running suit complete with a bright green headband. He had a mullet that didn’t look any better covered in gore.

  The second Z was just as fast and dressed in the same gear, but in a ridiculous orange.

  What a pair of assholes.

  It got ahold of Tomas and dragged him to the ground. There was a brief struggle, but Tomas was strong and didn’t put up with any of the Z's crap. He knocked the guy to the side and then rolled over. He was on his feet with a snarl. The Z grabbed Tomas’s leg and tried to get a piece. Tomas ripped free and kicked the dead guy in the face. I was really starting to like this scrappy fighter.

  The Z fell away but Tomas wasn’t done. He rolled over and drove his knife into the Z's face, yanked it out, and did it again.

  The dresser moved again, and more Zs barged into the room.

  I kicked the wrench again and the bar budged.

  “Come on,” Dori urged me on.

  I pulled my boot back and slammed it into the wrench, catching the edge of Dori’s finger. She didn’t have time to pull back, because the bar snapped free.

  “Out!” I yelled.

  Tomas came to his feet and kicked another Z. It fell back into the crowd at the door, creating a temporary roadblock. Joel fired a pair of shots and then came at us. I moved aside, but he urged me to go ahead.

  I helped Dori out the window and Tomas was right behind her.

  Joel shot a pair of Zs while he jammed stuff back into my backpack. Boxes of rounds and empty magazines were stuffed in. He tried to zip it closed but I reached over, grabbed it, and tossed it out the window.

  “Dude, let’s go!”

  Joel grinned, rose to his feet, and calmly shot a female Z in the forehead. She’d been covered in blood, her hair like some kind of nightmare of bright red dreads. She went down and then Joel was tossing our shit outside.

  “Piece of cake,” he said, and then lifted his foot and shrugged out the window like he was about to go for a leisurely Sunday walk around the city.

  I was right behind him. A Z managed to grab hold of my shirt but I shook his hand off. When I was outside I picked up my wrench and crushed the Z's head that came at us. The next one crowded in, so I bashed it just as hard. The two bodies created a nice little dam that would buy us some time.

  “Piece of cake, my ass,” I muttered.

  I grabbed my bag, shifted stuff around until it would close, and then worked it around my shoulders.

  Dori and Tomas had advanced into the yard and taken out a pair of Zs, nice and quietly. He got a young guy's attention and backed away, and she shattered in the back of the Z's head. The last one was a guy who had to be in his seventies and weigh close to three hundred pounds. Tomas tripped him and Dori smashed his head to pulp. They nodded at each other and then turned to regard us.

  “I like them. They’re the model of killing efficiency we should all strive for,” Joel said like a typical Marine.

  “I like them too, because they’re alive and they’re not trying to kill us,” I muttered back.

  ###

  11:25 hours approximate

  Location: Vista

  The lawn was just as dead as our pursuers. Adobe had been set in a sidewalk of sorts and then outlined in fist-sized stones. Plants wilted in pots, except for three palm trees. They rose three or four feet and didn’t look any worse for wear. A few more years and the owners had probably planned to plant them around the perimeter of the house. One thing that southern California didn’t lack for was palm trees.

  Someone had posted a sign: “Don’t be a dope. Clean up your dog’s poop.” Someone else had scrawled “Brains” over the word "poop".

  A pair of legs lay, unmoving from beneath some shrubs. I didn’t bother investigating, because--zombies.

  We’d only been in the house for fifteen or twenty minutes, but the sky had turned a nasty shade of grey. San Diego didn’t really have a winter--it was seventy year-round--but this November had become dismal in the early weeks. I was convinced it was because the world currently sucked ass. More than likely, it was just a normal weather pattern. If rain broke out right now I’d be happy. That meant precipitation would pool up so we wouldn’t have to rely on bottled water for the rest of our (presumably) short lives.

  Joel motioned for us to drop. The Hungarians caught on and went into a crouch. We shuffled low until we were behind a planter box. A small horde of ten or fifteen dead meandered past our position. A straggler took an interest in the fence because Zs are stupid, and decided to hang out for a while.

  Tomas pulled a gun, but Joel shook his head.

  I snapped my fingers to get the Z's attention. It lifted its head and drooled blood.

  The kid couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and that made me think of Craig.

  The Z didn’t catch on, so I snapped my fingers again.

  He walked into the fence and then fell over. His ass was in the air and his hands were on the ground. I maneuvered around the planter, wrench in a tight grip.

  Something caught my eye at the corner of the yard where the fence met the back of the house. A shape came into view and then faded again.

  I waited, hand lifted slightly to tell Joel to wait. When I didn’t see the form again, I advanced on the kid.

  He was dressed in the remains of a pair of tighty-whiteys. The only other thing that he wore was one red knee-length sock. His back and arms were a mess of wounds that were hard to look at. No one, especially not a kid, should have to go through that kind of trauma.

  “What are you waiting for?” Joel hissed.

  I stared at the kid. He was stuck, and his legs were kicking in slow motion. His hands scrabbled at the ground, but as much as he wanted to crawl toward me, he didn’t have the motor skills to pull himself off the fence.

  Thing about killing Zs is you get used to it. Sure, I’ve seen my share of the dead wanting to take a bite. I’d fought back, because that was survival. What I hated was all the necessary killing. This was no different.

  ###

  11:50 hours approximate

  Location: Vista

  “Where to, boss?” the Hungarian man asked.

  “Tomas. I don’t want to be rude but we don’t exactly ha
ve room for more people in our little group.”

  “We help, then we and you go.”

  “Why?”

  Tomas stared at me like I was an idiot.

  “It is normal to help, yes?” Dori chimed in.

  “Fine. Ya’ll wanna help, that’s great, but we’re not far from our base of operations. When we get back, we’re out of this city,” Joel said.

  He was being purposefully obtuse. No sense revealing too much to folks we didn’t know. It was like I had a psychic connection to my pal. Neither one of us had found a reason to trust another human, but I wasn’t going to turn them away if they were going to help with my plan. The plan I hadn’t told Joel about yet.

  We hid behind the burned-out husk of a doublewide that had probably been a piece of shit even before it had been set on fire. The roof was bent the wrong way and hung inside the monstrosity, judging by the limited view I got from the kicked-in doorway. I was pretty sure one of the blackened husks on the floor had been a person.

  The house next to the doublewide backed up to a sprawling trailer park that was littered with debris and bodies. One of the homes was at least intact, but something thumped against the walls and wasn’t being quiet about it.

  I motioned for Joel to join me, and we moved a few feet away.

  “No, man. We can’t bring them,” Joel said before I could get a word in.

  “I know that. I need to do something and I understand if you want to get back to our base.”

  “Stupid sailor. What half-assed plan are you about to get killed over?”

  “So little faith, Joel. Have I steered us wrong yet?”

  “Yeah. Many times.”

  I gave Joel a flat look.

  “Alright. What is it? We can’t keep tossing houses all day.”

  “I know, but I have to come back with antibiotics. Anna’s wound can’t wait.”

  Tomas and Dori kept watch. He spoke to her in Hungarian and she nodded. Both of them took pains to pretend like they weren’t listening to us.

  “Even if we found a pharmacy, place has probably been picked over twenty times.”

  “Remember the piece of paper?” I said, and lowered my backpack.

  I moved aside cans, boxes of ammo and boxed food until I found the sheet and pulled it out. One side had been a poster for a rock band from the eighties. The other held the message.

  “Probably a trap,” he said and handed it back.

  “So we scout it out and get our new friends here to help.”

  “What’s in it for them?”

  “Maybe they have needs that can be met.”

  I motioned for Dori and Tomas to join us, and told them what I had in mind.

  A shambler moved past the burned-out house, but didn’t catch wind of us. We kept silent for a few minutes while its mindless legs carried it away from our position.

  “We have needs too. We go,” Tomas said.

  Dori said something in Hungarian and he shook his head. They spoke together, her sounding pissed, him sounding like he didn’t care.

  “I apologize. We must leave you now,” Dori waved her hand, indicating our location. “After we are clear of this place we go.”

  Tomas didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

  “It’s cool, I understand,” I said. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

  They probably didn’t trust us either, but at least they were being civil and not trying to shoot us in the back and take our stuff. The only reason we’d joined up in the first place was because we didn’t have a choice.

  ###

  We nodded at each other and together moved out. Joel and I scouted, while they followed and covered our backs. The two were smart and keep their eyes up and focused. They worked well as a team; I couldn’t help but think about the value of adding them to our little group of misfits.

  We made good time as we ducked into homes and buildings, constantly on the lookout for Zs. As much as I’d come to expect threats around every corner, under every car, inside every doorway, we only came across a few, and they went down quickly and best of all, quietly.

  As we neared the center of town, I broke out the little map again and looked at street signs and landmarks.

  Dori and Tomas made short farewells, and then they moved out. A minute later and they hunkered down between two homes, then ran to a road and stayed near a low line of shrubs.

  “Shame they couldn’t stick around,” Joel said. “The little firecracker was growing on me.”

  “Me too,” I nodded. “But I don’t think any of us were ready to shake hands and become BFFs. Plus, how do we feed two new mouths? It’s hard enough to keep ourselves fed, not to mention the shit machine known as Frosty.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and come across an overturned tortilla chip truck. I’d just about kill for a bag of Doritos.”

  “You had to mention chips. One of the greatest inventions in the world and we can’t find a snack-size bag to save our lives.”

  I thought I was going to start drooling. Hell, I’d take a shower in Doritos and call it the perfect day.

  ###

  12:15 hours approximate

  Location: Vista

  The map had been crude but well done. A simple sketch work of lines representing streets as well as one landmark: that being a street roundabout that contained a fountain that was dry as a desert. There was a statue of some guy on top, and tied to him were the corpses of two of Zs who’d been executed. Their rotting husks hung over the fountain and had given it a rust color, thanks to all the blood. Whoever had shot these two hadn’t been kind. Bullet holes riddled every body part.

  A dog ran across the street, barking at the top of his lungs, but was gone before I could think to quiet him down.

  We found the convenience store we’d raided an hour ago and then studied the street signs again. I pointed at one labeled La Jolla and Joel nodded. The street was free of bodies, but cars had been pushed into an interesting pattern. Joel and I hunkered behind one while we studied the lay of the land.

  “This shit is creepy.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s been done up to slow us down.”

  “Or slow down Zs,” I said.

  Joel’s assault rifle was pressed against his shoulder. He stared into the EOTech scope.

  “Could be. Could be a trap.”

  “Agreed, but why a trap if they want to barter?”

  “Shoot the folks coming in the gauntlet and take their shit. Drag the bodies off somewhere,” Joel said.

  I gulped.

  “How about this. I’ll go ahead in and you cover me.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Think we’re both gonna just wander into a death trap?” he said.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, and stood up.

  “Keep your head down. If anyone starts shooting, I’ll shoot back.”

  “I know, man. Just don’t shoot me in the ass.”

  Joel nodded and I moved out.

  ###

  12:30 hours approximate

  Location: Vista

  I felt like I was under the crosshairs the entire time. The gauntlet, as Joel had called it, was just that: trucks, cars, furniture--anything that could be used as an obstacle--had been dragged into the street to form a maze. Spikes made out of sticks and metal tubing had been driven into the sides of vehicles to catch unwary Zs. Bodies hung from some traps, but they were fresh kills.

  I didn’t see anything resembling a freshly-killed human. Only rotted flesh, bald and balding heads, and a whole lot of blood and rot. Pretty typical stuff for the apocalypse.

  I glanced back, expecting to see Joel, but I should have known better. He’d disappeared, however I didn’t think for a minute that he’d abandoned me. Like a Marine hedgehog, he’d probably found some place to get nice and invisible and had the area I was waltzing into under his sights.

  I didn’t want to think about the alternative, that someone had him and me under their sights, especially
since I was probably walking into a trap.

  What I wouldn’t give to have some kind of Bluetooth radio headset to talk to Joel as I walked toward my death.

  But I had to do this for Anna. I needed to get her antibiotics, or the bullet extraction could go south real quick like. Assuming Roz could even get the damn bullet out, having Frosty lick the wound probably wouldn’t do much good. I needed to get her the drugs Roz had listed.

  I came across a crudely-drawn sign done up with a Sharpie.

  “No ZEDs within. Advance to safety, state what you have to barter, then get the fuck out. Wrong move gets you erased.”

  What was the wrong move exactly? Was I supposed to leave my weapons here?

  “Leave your weapons and come on in,” a voice called from the shadow. Damn, that guy should have been on psychic hotline.

  I dropped to a crouch and ducked next to a burned-out sedan. My wrench was in one hand and my pistol was in the other.

  “If we wanted you dead we’d a shot you a while back. You’re a big fella,” a husky female voice said.

  “I haven’t exactly had the best luck with other people,” I said lamely.

  “I know. We’re not animals. Just here to trade and get you back on the road to wherever the hell you’re going. Oh, and we’re not Reavers, because fuck those guys.”

  “Reavers?” I asked.

  “Those wackos that want to see the world burn. We’re businessmen, not bullies.”

  I shook my head. Reavers?

  “I don’t know anything about assholes burning the world. How about if I just turn around and go back the way I came right now?” I asked.

  “Have a nice day, but feel free to come back when you need something. We got a whole shop fulla goods. Just ask. We probably got it. See ya,” she said.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  “Not my type,” she said.

  “So you’re not going to steal my stuff?”

  “Hell no. We need guys like you to bring back goodies. For the love of Pete, show yourself, Devon.”