by Gina Ranalli
Another bullet punched into the opposite side of the car.
“We can’t stay huddled here all day,” Sebastian said. “They’ll just march on over here and pick us off one by one.”
“Same thing we did before?” Jado asked Lindy. “The men cover us?”
Lindy shook her head. That move had been pure instinct and this time her instinct was telling her . . . “Wait for the lull. The shooter will be reloading.”
“And then what?” Jackson asked.
“We run as fast as we can.”
She could tell none of them liked the sound of that plan, but they didn’t have a choice, and when the time came, that’s exactly what they did, Jackson cursing the whole way, all of them running in a crouch until they reached the next car to relative safety.
“We’re gonna be in trouble if someone else decides to use us for target practice from this side of the street,” Jackson said, his tone grim.
Shaking her head, Lindy said, “I think it’s the same person who was shooting the birds.”
“Couldn’t be,” he said. “I told you. Whoever was doing that was only using a BB gun, as far as I could tell.”
“That’s because to kill a bird, that’s all it takes. You hit the nail on the head when you said ‘target practice.’”
The entire time they were having this conversation, bullets whizzed by, cracking into buildings, windows, ricocheting off the street.
“I feel like Billy the Kid,” Dusty said, though her face showed no humor.
It took them several minutes to get out of range of the gunman, but the shooter did not give chase and, as far as Lindy could tell, was only making a half-hearted effort to hit them anyway. Lindy knew the shooter was just following orders and his or her heart was not in it, but they wouldn’t remain this lucky for much longer. The closer they drew to where Andrew was, the more faithful his followers would be. The more fierce.
And, even more than that, the more undead.
Chapter Thirty-six
Rick was snickering when he came through the patio doors and strolled towards the pool where Andrew lounged on a plastic yellow raft. With his right hand, he held up a green garbage bag. “Present for you,” he told Andrew, pushing one lock of long greasy hair behind his ear with his free hand.
Andrew was beyond relaxed. The effect of the painkiller coupled with the afternoon sunshine made him blissfully sleepy and ready to doze. “I wish it was a cool glass of lemonade.”
“You’ll like this better, I think.” Reaching into the garbage bag, Rick pulled out a severed head by its dark hair. “Guess who this is?”
Crinkling his nose, Andrew said, “Oh, come on! You’re going to drip blood all over the patio.”
As though he didn’t hear him, Rick said “It’s one of her tribe. Not sure of his name, but once our people blew his brains out, they cut off his head and brought it here. Special delivery.”
Andrew became more alert. “Who shot him? How do you know he’s one of hers?”
Rick went on to explain that Lindy and her troupe of monkeys had been stupidly traveling down a city street in broad daylight. “She ended up executing the assassin, but not before he was able to take one of hers. A neighbor saw the whole thing and decided to bring you the head as proof they’re doing what you asked. Wants a seat at the table, so to speak, for his good deed.”
Making ripples in the water with his hand, Andrew said, “A head isn’t proof. Unless it’s her, they can all rot in the street for all I care. That could be anyone.”
Rick’s face fell. “I thought you’d like this.”
“Why would I like a severed head? That’s one less undead guardian for me. Next time someone wants to kill one of them, have them take a picture first. Maybe all of them posed around a campfire or something. Then I’ll know for sure who’s who.”
Andrew laughed at his request, knowing it was ridiculous, but who really cared? He could make the people bark like dogs if he wanted, and now that it occurred to him, he knew he would attempt to do that very thing later today.
“I . . .” Rick started. “Okay. I guess.” He put the head back in the bag and stood watching Andrew with uncertainty.
Raising his eyebrows expectantly, Andrew said, “Lemonade?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Okay, Father. Right away.”
Rick disappeared back into the house, carrying his grisly prize. Andrew relaxed again. He wondered how much of his mellow mood was because of the Vicodin. Should he be happy about one of Lindy’s roaches being killed? He supposed so, but the more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became that it hadn’t been Lindy herself. What was wrong with these morons? How hard could it be to waste a fourteen-year-old girl, especially when so many people were gunning for her?
He sighed and closed his eyes, telling himself not to worry about it. She would be dead soon enough.
His peace was interrupted yet again when Jude exited the house, also wanting a word with him.
“I was just talking to Rick,” he began. “He told me what you said about the . . . uh . . . the head.”
“What about it?”
“You said you won’t be happy unless it’s the girl?”
“So? It’s the truth.”
“But, Andrew, we had an agreement.”
Brow furrowed, Andrew asked, “What agreement?”
“My sister. Remember? I want her for myself and I want her alive.”
“Oh, that.” Andrew waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever.”
“I want to make sure we’re clear on that, is all.”
“I said ‘whatever,’ didn’t I?” Andrew rolled his eyes. “What do I care? You’re the one in charge of that stuff anyway. If you want her alive, you tell the people you want her alive. Why are you bothering me with it?”
Jude ran a hand over his cheek. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just thought—”
Andrew held up his hand, signaling that he wanted silence. He adjusted his weight on the raft and studied the clouds in the blue sky. “I wish it would rain,” he said absently. “I’d like to be in the pool in the rain. Maybe you should get in with me, Jude. Want to go swimming?”
“I . . . no, thank you. I don’t swim.”
“Really?” Andrew perked up, as though this fact were of particular interest to him. “Why not?”
Shrugging, he said, “I just never learned.”
“Maybe I should teach you.”
It wasn’t a question and Andrew knew where his next bit of fun would be coming from. What a perfect way to spend a lazy afternoon. Rick was back with a glass of lemonade, which he had to lean over the rim of the pool to hand to him. As he was about to turn and go back inside, Andrew said his name. Rick paused, his eyes questioning.
“What do you think we should do with that head?”
Rick looked from Andrew to Jude and back again. “I’m not sure, Father. What do you think we should do?”
After a long swallow of the lemonade and making a show of smacking his lips, Andrew said. “I don’t know.” He pretended to think about it before adding, “Maybe a—how about a stew!”
“Andrew!” Jude gasped. “That’s disgusting!”
Ignoring him, Andrew said, “Yeah, a stew would be cool. That guy you said cut off the head and wanted a ‘seat at the table’? He’s invited to dinner. And when it’s over, we’ll tell him where the meat came from and that’s what he gets for not bringing me the girl’s head.”
Andrew began to laugh, throwing his head back against the yellow raft. It was the best, funniest idea he’d had in a while. As Rick and Jude headed back inside, he called after them, “It’s a great night for a barbeque, isn’t it? Maybe we can grill up some ribs, too!”
It was a long time before he could stop chuckling. He thought that if things had turned out differently, he would have made a great comedian.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The smell of cooking meat was in the air, which could only mean one thing: they were approaching the target.
Lindy’s nose was bleeding again, but not by much. Though the blood wasn’t even trickling down her upper lip anymore, she could still taste the coppery tang of it in the back of her throat.
She took this as a good sign. Even better was that her headache was finally subsiding. It was a dull thump at her temples, but one she was used to and could easily ignore.
“I’m getting sick of this,” Sebastian grumbled. “Slinking around like animals.”
“It will be over soon,” she replied.
They were in an upscale neighborhood, traveling through backyards, pushing between tall bushes and climbing over stone walls. Everyone who lived here seemed to have in-ground pools, fancy patio furniture and large propane grills.
“Little brat certainly picked a nice place to call home,” Jado said dryly. “Maybe once this is all over I’ll park my rear in one of these places, too. I have a feeling a lot of the homeowners won’t be coming back anyway.”
So far, they’d been lucky. They only encountered one barking dog a couple of blocks back and it had been inside. There was no chance the crowd hanging around outside Andrew’s home base could have heard it.
Lindy hoped this meant most people with pets had fled and taken their animals with them. She didn’t like to think of dogs and cats being lunch meat for zombies, but she supposed it was inevitable to some degree.
Jackson, in the lead, stopped, holding up one hand. “Shh! Hear that?”
Everyone froze and, sure enough, they all heard the sound of a crowd in the distance.
“Probably no more than a quarter mile away now,” Jackson said. “Maybe less.”
“Max, you should wait here,” Dusty said. “This is going to be very dangerous.”
Max balked at the idea. “No way. I want to come.”
The group all exchanged glances before settling on Lindy, waiting to hear what she had to say.
She sighed. “Dusty is right. You should wait here. When it’s over, we’ll come back for you.”
“You might not even live through it!” Max protested.
“All the more reason you should wait.”
“But if you all die, I’ll die too, eventually. Everyone will!”
“Not necessarily. We could take Andrew out, you know.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Jackson said. “Max, stay here. The rest of us need to get moving.”
It was hard to argue with his authoritative tone, but Max pouted just the same. “Whatever.”
Lindy turned to Dusty. “Maybe you should stay with her.”
Before Dusty could reply, Max snapped, “I don’t need a babysitter, Lindy. I’m almost as old as you are.”
Ignoring the outburst, Jado put a hand on Dusty’s shoulder. “She’s right. We might need someone on the outside.”
“Nonsense,” Dusty said. “You just think I’ll get in the way.”
“That’s not true—”
“Enough already!” Jackson shouted. “We need to move now! So, whoever is coming, come on!”
Without looking back, he began moving again.
“Someone’s getting testy,” Dusty said, putting her hands on her hips.
Jado and Sebastian both offered compassionate looks before following Jackson into the next yard.
“We’ll come back for you,” Lindy assured the girl and the woman.
“You won’t,” Max said angrily.
Dusty took the girl’s hand and gave Lindy a grim nod. “Godspeed.”
Lindy tried to smile before catching up to the other three. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead and said, “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”
“That makes all of us,” Jado said.
Despite everything, Lindy laughed.
The four of them moved silently from yard to yard, drawing closer to their final destination with every step.
Keeping an eye on the sky, Lindy was relieved to see it was empty of birds. Maybe their job was finally done. She swallowed hard, knowing her entire life had been preparing her for this day—the Day of Reckoning. She didn’t bother to question it now. Why it had been her chosen for this task when it could have been anyone else didn’t interest her anymore. All that mattered now was finishing it.
The sound of the crowd intensified and just beneath the din of people talking they heard the moans and grunts of the undead. When they were a block away, Lindy signaled her soldiers to stop.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked. “We’re almost there.”
“We’re not going to be able to just sneak in,” she said. “I’m sure the place is well guarded.”
“Okay. What then?” The bearded man looked scared and Lindy could hardly blame him.
“We’ll just have to make our presence known.”
Both men began to protest at once. Jado interrupted them both. “They already know we’re coming.”
“How could they know that?” Jackson asked.
“It’s true,” Lindy said. “It took them a little while, but they eventually figured out we would have no choice. That’s why they stopped—”
“No!” Jackson shouted. He pointed a finger in her face. “I will not allow you to just sacrifice yourself to that little monster. That’s not the way this is supposed to go down.”
“The zombies will tear us limb from limb,” Sebastian agreed. “And even if they don’t, we still have to worry about those fanatics.”
“Not if Jude has anything to say about it,” Jado said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“My brother wants to win,” she said. “That’s all he’s ever wanted his entire life. He had to be better than me at everything. He’ll want me to see that he’s won this one, the biggest game of all.”
“That makes no sense,” Jackson said. “This isn’t a game.”
“Not to us—or anyone else in the world for that matter—but I know how Jude thinks.”
Sebastian spoke up. “We should have just brought explosives. Blow them all to Kingdom Come and be done with it.”
“Wouldn’t have worked,” Lindy said. “You know that. It has to be me. Me and Andrew.”
“Andrew just wants you dead,” Jackson said. “Period. He doesn’t want to sit down and have tea with you.”
Lindy scowled. “I’ll just have to change his mind.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Though he had heard the expression “Patience is a virtue,” Andrew thought it was anything but.
He was trying to teach himself how to play pool on a table in the house’s basement, but was having very little luck. After missing the eleventh shot in a row, he smashed the pool cue against the edge of the table, snapping it in half, then tossed the remaining piece.
“Stupid game,” he hissed.
“I told you I’d be happy to show you a few tricks,” Jude said, standing off to the side, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
“Yeah, I’m sure you would. Just like you wanted to show me a few tricks with that woman that time, right?”
Jude pressed his lips into a hard white line while his cheeks flushed.
“Besides,” Andrew went on, “I have better things to do.”
“Such as?”
“Such as figuring out a new way to strip the skin off the fingers of anyone who annoys me.” He smiled at Jude, enjoying goading him. He was discovering it was his favorite pastime. “Do you think if you strip a person’s fingers to the bone, the skin will eventually grow back? I’ve been wondering about that lately.”
After a hesitation, Jude said, “There are muscles and ligaments, so . . . I’m not sure.”
Andrew hopped onto the pool table and began to pace, tapping his chin with his index finger. “I think this is something you need to know.”
“I’ll try to find out for you.”
“Good idea.” Andrew grinned wider, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. “Boy, I’m pretty tired. Maybe I should take a nap.”
The sound of the crowd outsi
de suddenly swelled. People were shouting, though it was hard to decipher the precise words.
The grin slid off Andrew’s face as though it had been made of hot wax. “What’s going on out there?”
“Maybe your beloved zombies have decided they don’t want to take orders from you anymore.”
Ignoring the snide comment, Andrew cocked his head, listening. It definitely didn’t sound like people being devoured by the undead. It sounded like an angry mob, which, in his opinion, was far worse.
“Why are you just standing there?” he barked at Jude. “Go check it out!”
Jude dramatically sighed and made for the basement stairs. He’d only taken a few steps when footsteps pounding down stopped him in his tracks.
“Father Andrew!” Rick cried, taking the last few steps in a single clumsy leap. “The girl! She’s here!”
Andrew felt everything in his bowels instantly liquefy. His stomach lurched as he stood frozen on top of the pool table. He felt color drain from his face. Though he’d known it was coming, he had no idea how terrified he’d be.