Monsters & Mayhem Omnibus 1

by Dan Decker

  Shaking his head and cursing under his breath, Parry brought up his rifle and began to look around. The shrill scream of the captured baby was enough to make his blood curdle. He wasn’t going to bet against other nearby zampys responding to it.

  It wasn’t until the third nestling that things went wrong. Stryker had the zampy baby by the neck when there was a screeching sound from the top of the hill. Parry turned and spotted the zampys as they bolted down the hill towards them.

  As he opened fire, he heard a zombie groan to the side of him. Without looking, he already knew that it was one of the zombies they’d been fighting earlier. This was why he always cut off their heads.

  There was a shot from behind him, and he felt the wind from the bullet as it rushed past him. “Watch where you’re shooting!” Parry hollered as he ducked and continued to fire.

  His first several shots had been wild, but he kept on firing and managed to bring down one of the zampys with a shot that gutted the animal while it ran. He didn’t have time to admire his handiwork because several more zampys had appeared at the top of the hill and were making their way down the hill as well.

  There were several flashes of green that had been quick enough he’d almost missed them as they cut off from the pack and circled around.

  Cursing, he sighted another zampy and brought it down. He went for another and had already pulled the trigger before he realized that somebody else had taken care of it.

  There was a big gaping hole in the animal, and it looked as if it had been done by a shotgun slug.

  He scanned his surroundings. The other zampys that he’d seen from the corner of his eyes had disappeared. The zombie that had been groaning was the one that he’d almost decapitated earlier; it had been unable to get to its feet and was crawling towards him.

  As he pulled the trigger and watched its head get obliterated he tried hard not to think about what the zombie had looked like before when it had still been a woman.

  As he checked the other zombies for signs of movement, he heard Stryker speak out from behind him.

  “Who are you?”

  Parry didn’t look back and assumed that the woman had shown herself. It had to have been her with the shotgun slug.

  “There’s still more of them,” Parry yelled, “keep your eyes peeled!”

  Everything was silent, and even the river sounded far away in his ears as he searched. The wind had picked up and was moving the sagebrush and trees.

  More than once he stopped to focus on an area before he decided it was clear and moved on.

  Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven. The thought caught him off guard; he hadn't realized that he’d been keeping count.

  The circling behavior of the zampys had caught him off guard, but it wasn’t altogether surprising. The zampys had been known to coordinate their attacks from time to time.

  He had just looked back up the hill, wondering if he’d missed something and half expecting to see more zampys descending, when a thought popped into his mind. Those slicks are going to come from the other side of the nest. It was the nest that they're concerned about.

  Whipping around, he took Stryker by surprise and Parry found himself looking at the wrong side of Stryker’s pistol. Parry had been careful to keep his rifle pointed away from the man as he turned.

  Stryker raised an eyebrow and after a pregnant pause pointed his pistol in a different direction.

  “They’re going to come from behind—” The words had just left Parry’s mouth when a zampy sprung up on a rock behind Stryker. The four nostrils of the beast flared as it opened its mouth and sunk its fangs into his shoulder.

  Stryker brought his pistol around, but he was unable to find the correct angle and his shots went wild.

  Things seemed to slow for Parry as he pulled the trigger and the loud concussive blast of his rifle filled the air. The shot took the zampy in the gut, and it was knocked away from Stryker who latched onto one of the rocks to keep from falling into the squirming nestlings.

  Parry circled the rocks of the nest and found the wounded zampy just getting to its feet, there was a large slash down the middle of its abdomen. Its intestines looked like they were about to slip out.

  Blood dripped from its fangs, and it regarded Parry warily as he fired several more shots and sent it to the ground for good. Was it his imagination or were these creatures getting smarter?

  Parry could have sworn that he’d seen two greenish blurs, but as he kept his eyes peeled looking for the other one he wondered if he’d been mistaken.

  After several seconds had gone by without anything alarming happening, he returned to the other side of the nest to find that Stryker had continued unperturbed by the bite he’d received and had finished capturing the baby zampys. Parry returned in time to see him pull out the bags and place the cages inside of them. The woman was standing off to one side with the butt of her shotgun resting on her leg.

  Stryker smiled grimly. “Got a bit hairy there for a bit, didn’t it? Thanks for taking that last one out. I had a bad angle on him.” He nodded towards the woman. “She's a pretty good shot.”

  Parry regarded the woman with a nod of the head and tried to keep the suspicious look off his face. He was glad to see that Stryker was grateful for her sudden appearance and didn't want to do anything to make Stryker suspicious.

  “There’s still another out there,” Parry said. “The clever beast has gone to ground and is likely waiting for us to separate before attacking. Do you have anti-venom back at your ATV? I’ll fetch if for you.”

  Under normal circumstances, Parry would have just offered the medicine from his backpack, but he sensed Stryker was the type of man that would arrest somebody even if they were trying to save his life.

  Stryker waved him away. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  Parry snorted. “Where is it? The sooner you get it in your system, the better off you’ll be.”

  “There’s a bag in the back of the jeep with a red cross on it. The syringes and needles are in a white plastic container. There’s also a cooler in the bag, the anti-venom is in there.”

  Parry nodded and walked up the hill. The breeze had shifted again in the last few minutes and was now blowing towards the river. He was glad that the change hadn’t happened while he’d been at the top of it trying to find the nest.

  When he got to the jeep, Parry couldn’t help but admire the vehicle. The world had collapsed long before he’d been old enough to learn to drive and he’d never had the opportunity. About the only way to learn was to enlist with a group like Weston’s men. He may have wanted to learn, but his desire wasn’t bad enough that he wanted to do that.

  At the top of the hill, he noticed dark clouds on the horizon and wondered how long it would be before they made it over here.

  With a sudden thought, he remembered that it had been a long time since he'd checked his watch. He cursed when he saw that more than a half an hour had passed. He'd have to run now to make it to the Sullivan compound ahead of the other smugglers.

  He stared at the jeep for several moments both in appreciation and to make sure that there wasn’t something that was waiting to jump on him. He circled all the way around it before approaching and found the bag in the back just like Stryker had said.

  Parry procured several vials of anti-venom and syringes which he placed into a pocket of his vest. Stryker and the woman were arguing as he approached but quieted down when they saw Parry.

  When he got back to the nest, Stryker had dropped several packets of gas into the nest, and the nestlings were all dying.

  Parry was glad to have escaped that task and looked into the bags with the cages. He could see that the top was made from a mesh that would allow air in but not much else.

  “Look, lady, I’ll do whatever I please with the zampy babies. Keep on talking, and I’ll have to search you for anti-venom.”

  She laughed. “How are you going to do that?”

  “Don’t push me.”

&n
bsp; “All we have to do is refuse to give you a shot.”

  Parry clenched his hand around his rifle. “That’s enough, both of you. There is still another zampy about, and anyone of these zombies could decide to start walking at any moment. There is enough wrong that we don’t need to start killing each other. One less thing to worry about, all right?”

  Stryker had brought his pistol up but hadn’t yet aimed it at the woman. She hadn’t moved, her shotgun was pointed at the ground. “Yeah, all right.”

  “Watch what you say,” Stryker said.

  The woman smiled wickedly. “Watch what you do, it’s two on one.”

  “No, it is not!” Parry couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “Come here and sit down so I can give you the medicine.”

  After several seconds where nobody moved, Parry shrugged and moved over to Stryker. “Your arm.”

  Parry pulled out a wipe and cleaned the man’s arm. He hated having to waste one on the man, but he was hoping that it would help calm Stryker down.

  Once Parry had the syringe ready, he grabbed hold of Stryker’s arm and prepared the syringe.

  “I’ll do it,” Stryker said, taking the syringe away. After a moment’s hesitation. “Thanks.”

  “It’s all you.” Parry stepped back and watched as Stryker administered the anti-venom. Once it was done, Parry heaved a quiet sigh of relief. “Ok. We have zombies that need to be beheaded. The more of you that help, the faster this will go.”

  “I’ll keep guard,” the woman said.

  I'm not giving you another chance to freeze on me, Parry thought. “No. I’m the only one that hasn’t threatened either of you. I’ll keep watch while you two get it done. Can you agree to that?”

  “Fine,” the woman said.

  Stryker nodded. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Parry kept a close eye on both of them in addition to their surroundings. The clouds were getting close now, and he growled quietly. He hated being out in the open during a storm. He should have just stayed home today. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes had passed since he last checked. He wasn't going to make it to the Sullivan Compound on time.

  There was a yell and Parry turned, his eyes focusing on Stryker. The zombie closest to him had reared its head. Stryker was between Parry and the zombie, so Parry sprinted to the side and fired once he had a clear shot. Stryker fired as well. Once the zombie went down, Parry scanned the area. Now would be the perfect time for the other zampy to attack.

  “It bit you,” the woman said.

  The words froze Parry’s heart, and he turned. “Don’t do it—”

  He was too late. The shots rang out, and Stryker fell. Smoke wafted away from the muzzle of the woman’s shotgun.

  “What the frick’ you doing?” Parry yelled. “We’re going to have Weston’s men hunting us down for murder. You should have waited at least until he’d converted!”

  “Frick? What are you religious?” She cackled. “I haven’t met a believer that could shoot like you since before the sky fell.”

  “You don’t know many, do you?” Parry snorted and brought his rifle to bear on her chest. “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t much care about what Weston’s men think of me.” She shrugged. “I’m wanted for so many things, what’s one more.”

  Suddenly, everything seemed to click together. Her dress, tattoo, spiky hair, the way she’d snuck up on him. Everything. “You’re Aleb Shaw.”

  She smiled. “It took you long enough.”

  “The stories I’ve heard about Aleb said she hits what she shoots at. She’d be caught dead before using something like trap shot. Why the setup?” He thought of the missing decoy anti-venom. “Was this all to steal my contraband?”

  “No, you stinking moth—” She stopped, a wicked smile lighting up her face. “Forgot I was dealing with sensitive ears. Let me try again. No, you idiot. I’m here to see if you’re as good as they say. Nothing like a live field test to know a man.”

  “I’m not looking for a job.”

  “And I’m not offering you one. What do you think was happening here today?”

  Parry made a show of looking around. “Survival of the fittest?”

  “Are you daft too? No, Weston’s men are looking to weaponize the zampy venom.”

  Parry laughed. “Why would they do something like that? The last thing that we need is more zombies. No, I expect they were collecting the zampy babies for the same reason smugglers bring in the heads of the zampys they kill. There’s a lot of money to be made in zampy venom. If Weston could figure out a way to farm it, he’d become a rich and powerful man.”

  “No, war is coming, and they want a new weapon. If you were told to surrender or your whole village would be gassed and made zombies, what would you do?”

  “Honestly? War is coming? You’re trying to recruit me to keep them from developing a new weapon? How many bad movies are you going to quote?

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Look, give me back my anti-venom and help me with the zombies or get outta here. Either way, we’ve been here too long as it is.” He looked around and lowered his rifle. “I saw two zampys circle around the long way. We’re living on borrowed time. It’s best we be gone.”

  “You’re just like they said.” Aleb gave him a considering look. “Do you realize that any sane smuggler would have bailed by now? Most would have gone long before now. Hel-”

  She smiled. “Heck, I don’t know of anybody that would have found a nest and not gone miles out of their way to avoid it, but not Parry Peters. Oh no. He’ll go down into the thick of it and exterminate all zombies and zampys within a two-mile radius.”

  “There’s one thing that all the stories get wrong about you,” Parry said. “You’re insane. I’m not going to help you. Weston’s crazy, but he’s not stupid. Nobody wants more zombies. I want nothing to do with you or your little war. And even if a war is coming, why are you all that concerned about Weston’s men anyway? Their ineptitude will get them all killed. Those men would have died faster if I hadn't been trying to save them.”

  He heard Aleb chuckle as he pulled on his gloves and took out his machete.

  “It’s fine, I can wait. Think things over. When you’re ready to pick a side, I just hope it’s ours, because I’d hate to put a slug through that thick head of yours.”

  Parry didn’t look back as he walked towards the closest zombie and went to work. In between zombie beheadings, when he noticed that she was gone, he scanned the area and was glad to see that it was quiet.

  He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes before he needed to be at the Sullivan compound.

  He looked up at the top of the hill and a small smile covered his face when he saw the Jeep. Weston wouldn't know if he borrowed it. Parry could leave it just out of sight of the Sullivan Compound.

  He'd never driven before, but he'd seen it done a thousand times in the movies. How hard could it be?

  If he hurried, he still might beat the other smugglers. Anyone familiar with this area that might have been planning to use this route would have heard all the gunshots and gone the long way around.

  He put his lips together and almost started to whistle. Yes, if he hurried, he could still make it. On second thought, he’d return this way, drop off the jeep, and collect the zampy heads as he passed. Four or five adult zampy heads. The nestlings wouldn’t bring much, and it wasn’t worth collecting them.

  It was going to be a profitable day.

  He turned and looked at the cages Stryker had loaded the nestlings into and paused. He’d forgotten about them. He sighed and didn’t look forward to what he’d have to do next.

  Red Survivor

  The Red Survivor is on a critical peacekeeping mission to deliver an ambassador to negotiate the end of a war that has humanity on the brink of extinction.

  When Captain John Marchant orders the ship to respond to a distress call, First Officer Nick Williams immediately challenges the captain’s order.

  Nick struggl
es to persuade Marchant that the effort is futile, and they are best served by staying on course to deliver the ambassador. Ships explode, tempers flare, and their vessel is put in danger as the two square off.

  In the Red Survivor universe, this is a standalone space opera short story that focuses on the tension between Marchant and Williams.

  1

  “Full halt!” Captain Marchant shouted, his face red, the veins in his neck sticking out so much I was afraid one of them might burst. “Why haven’t we stopped?”

  “Sir,” Ensign Redding said, her face as white as her uniform. “We are slowing, but it’s going to take another seventy-nine seconds for us to arrive at full halt.”

  Marchant was up from his chair in a flash and so was I, getting in his face, forcing him to either stop or run me over.

  “Out of my way, Nick!”

  “No.” I was surprised Captain Marchant had used my first name. What was going on with the man? I added a belated, “Sir,” but he didn't seem to notice.

  He was a mixed bag at best, but this sudden rage was out of character for him. I usually saw his emotional explosions coming, but there had been no warning on this one. I sometimes thought my father had assigned me to this ship, just to keep an eye on the man.

  I’d heard somewhere that a soft answer could turn away wrath, but that didn’t appear to be working on Marchant. His face had turned beet red.

  “It’s life and death out there!” Spit flew as he yelled. “If we don’t stop immediately, it could be us too.”

  We didn’t need to stop. The battle had nothing to do with our mission. In fact, it was a reminder of everything we stood to lose if we didn’t successfully deliver the ambassador to his meeting on time.

  Slowing down for a look-see was a terrible risk. I would have tried to convince him to do otherwise if he had taken the time to consult with me. Now, I was left in damage control mode, and that was tenuous at best.

  “Starships can’t slow from above the speed of light in the time you’re demanding.” I kept my voice even and calm, though I was explaining something any first-year cadet would have known. “Is it possible, sir, that you’re letting your feelings get in the way of your impeccable judgment?”