The Rising Dead

by Stella Green

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2013 Stella Green

  THE DEAD MAN logo is a registered trademark of Adventures in Television, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  EISBN: 9781477867822

  Cover design by Jeroen Ten Berge

  CONTENTS

  Editor’s Note

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Editor’s Note:

  This book contains details that might spoil the surprises in The Dead Man novels Ring of Knives, The Dead Woman, The Midnight Special, and Colder Than Hell. You might want to read those books before this one…though it’s not necessary to know those stories in order to fully enjoy this tale.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A yellow jacket was circling Matt’s fourth cup of coffee. He’d been shooing it away for the last half hour, but the creature wasn’t giving up. When a woman leaving the diner smiled and offered him a newspaper, Matt took it, intending to roll the Provo Times into a flyswatter until he spotted the headline “Miraculous survival turns tragic.” That could have been the title of Matt’s life story. Coincidence? Probably not. The article was partly obliterated by a murky stain, and was unreadable under the cheap fluorescent bulbs. The yellow jacket finally got to taste the wonders in the cup because Matt was out in the sunlight reading about the teenage mountain climber who had fallen into a crevice and survived eighteen days. His rescuers couldn’t feel a pulse, but he surprised them by reviving during the helicopter ride to the emergency room. The EMT trainee who practiced CPR on the climber for forty-two minutes was given an award.

  A few weeks later, after all the celebrations were over, the young man had begun insisting that some of the people around him looked like monsters. He had even chased the mailman away with a baseball bat. Afraid his hallucinations meant he was suffering from a head injury, his mother had checked him into a hospital. The hospital moved him to the psych ward, and now he was fighting to prove his sanity and gain his freedom. Matt suspected that the teenage climber saw what he saw: the evil inside a person appearing as putrefied, reeking flesh—usually on the person’s face. Ever since Matt had come back from the dead, he could see and smell the rot. The more decay, the closer the person was to committing some heinous act. He avoided talking about it because he knew it sounded crazy. Could the teenager prove what he saw wasn’t a delusion? Matt didn’t think so, but it seemed important to get to Denver. Maybe he could help. A stay in a mental hospital for another man like them had ended in a bloody mess.

  “No.” The admissions clerk looked at Matt with glassy, tired eyes. She seemed sad and so weighted down by her troubles that sitting upright took all of her energy.

  “Would you check again?”

  She looked rattled by the request, but agreed. Matt carefully spelled the climber’s last name for the second time while the clerk typed into her computer.

  “No. No patient by that name.” She sighed, relieved that she had accomplished the task.

  Matt pulled out the newspaper and slid it across the counter.

  A worried expression appeared on her face as she realized he wanted even more effort from her. After slowly smoothing the pages, she read using her finger to follow the words.

  “Oh.” When she raised her head, she had a slight flush and she looked at Matt carefully, as if he had suddenly become interesting. “How do you know him?”

  “I’m just a friend.”

  “A good friend?”

  “Good enough. Is there a problem?”

  She sat up a bit straighter and hesitated, as if she was trying to come up with the right words. “I’m afraid your friend is dead. He committed suicide a couple of days ago.”

  Matt got the feeling she would be telling this story for months to come. He didn’t care. “What happened?”

  “Well, he jumped off the balcony. From the seventh floor. Such a shame.” There was no sadness in the words, only excitement. She paused and then asked, “Do you want to see where he landed?”

  Matt must have looked surprised, because she quickly added, “It’s been cleaned up.”

  Back outside, Matt moved quickly off the medical center grounds. The sad little ghoul at the desk hadn’t done anything to improve his opinion of hospital employees. He was free to move on, but for the moment, there was nowhere to go. Even if there was, he didn’t want to leave because he still felt that he was meant to help somehow. Matt decided to visit the young climber’s family.

  Their home was a sweet little A-frame near the forest. Before he rang the bell, Matt noticed the peeling tan paint around the door. The house hadn’t been shown any love for years. The button moved reluctantly, like it wasn’t used much. Just as he was about to give up and walk away, a twenty-something man with a shaved head opened the door. His tight muscle shirt showed off hefty biceps and black chest hair. On his forehead was a moldy green sore the size of a dime. A small spot of rot like this one might not be a problem, but Matt knew it could grow quickly. He caught a faint whiff of decomposing flesh.

  “I just wanted to tell all of you how sorry I am…”

  “Fuck off!” The sullen man spoke with a heavy Russian accent.

  From somewhere back in the house an older woman called out, “Please, please wait.”

  A plump, silver-haired head squeezed into the doorway. “I’m sorry. Dmitri is a friend of my daughter’s. He’s still learning English.”

  Dmitri was now dribbling tiny globules of a putrid yellow liquid from the spreading sore, which now covered his forehead. He looked like he might swing his weight to the side and crush the woman’s neck against the doorframe.

  Matt knew that if the climber had lived here, he’d definitely been seeing monsters.

  The mother invited Matt to stay for dinner. Because she had a fermenting Russian at her house, Matt agreed. Inside, two skinny female shapes emerged from behind clouds of cigarette smoke.

  “This is Nadia—she’s our exchange student—and my daughter, Chloe.”

  “Who this is?” Nadia’s low, throaty voice was deeper than Dmitri’s. She approached on stiletto heels as smoothly as if she were walking barefoot. Nadia’s dark eye makeup was heavy enough to have made Cleopatra proud. The bloodshot eyes and sallow skin hinted at a life of excess. She looked thirty-five, but Matt guessed she was really about ten years younger. At the corner of her lip was something that looked like a small cold sore. He was sure it would turn out to be something more.

  “Mom! You can’t just ask some loser in. You’re so stupid!” A skinny teenager with blue streaks in her long black hair wobbled through the haze in high heels just like Nadia’s. The skin around her left eye was gray and cracked.

  “She isn’t dealing well with her brother’s death.”

  “He was fucking nuts. Said I looked like a zombie. Said I stink, too.”

  “It’s the pain talking.”

  Matt nodded, even though he was pretty sure Chloe wasn’t as broken up as her mother thought.

  The Russians began to argue
loudly in Russian like no one else was in the room.

  “Talk English!” Chloe was on the verge of tears. Then she turned to her mother, yelling, “You ruin everything!” before running into the back of the house. A door slammed. The Russians followed her and the house was quiet, but not peaceful. The presence of the trio unsettled the atmosphere.

  The daughter was in a pout and refused to come into the dining room for dinner, which left the mother running back and forth like a waitress. Matt felt sorry for her, but he was glad those three were in the other room, because the lady could cook. He didn’t need festering sores ruining the meal. After dinner, she fed him homemade apple pie with ice cream. Every time he tried to excuse himself, she brought out other goodies: beer, brownies, chips. Matt refused the food, but the mother nervously pressed him to eat while flitting around the room like a pigeon afraid to land.

  During one of her trips to the kitchen, Matt slipped away and peeked through the now open door into Chloe’s room. Dmitri was playing video games with Chloe while Nadia, still smoking, talked endlessly on a cell phone. Dmitri stopped for a moment to squeeze Nadia’s puny ass. Then he grabbed Chloe with his other arm and stuck his tongue down her throat. Matt sat back down at the table. “What grade is your exchange student?”

  “We were supposed to get a seventeen-year-old high school girl. We’ve done this before and it was always so nice. Inga from Sweden was just lovely. She still sends me Christmas cards. There was some sort of mistake and we got a college student this year. I told Nadia she has to leave in two weeks when the semester ends. Perhaps you’d like to stay for a while longer? I have an extra room now.” She looked sadly down the hall toward the bedrooms. “I’m sure my son wouldn’t mind.”

  Clearly, she sensed the danger. After all he had seen, Matt knew she had good reason to be afraid, so he found himself agreeing to spend the night. The bed was comfortable, but Matt didn’t sleep well with the trio nearby. During the night the mother snuck into the spare room and settled into a chair near him. He pretended to be asleep. She began to snore within minutes, as if she hadn’t slept well for quite some time.

  At breakfast the next day, Dmitri sat down with Matt and put his scabby bare feet up on the kitchen table. Then he grinned, showing his rotting teeth and black tongue. The man’s breath was rancid, like rotted meat. On Matt’s other side, Nadia and Chloe went through cigarettes and drank coffee. Matt held his breath and put down his fork. He loved scrambled eggs and hash browns, but these were ruined for him. Chloe began demanding the mother’s car keys so they could go to class. The mother scurried out of the kitchen as she refused, saying her daughter had a suspended license and had already wrecked her brother’s car. Chloe hurled a mug of coffee toward her. Fortunately, the mother had cleared the corner a second before and it just smashed against the wall.

  The cold sore on Nadia’s face was growing. “Dmitri does not ride bus.”

  A shiny green worm dangling off Dmitri’s lower lip squirmed helplessly until it fell onto the kitchen table. While it started wiggling across the surface, Chloe began calling her mother names. Matt didn’t know whether the mother loved her car or whether she was trying to protect her daughter from arrest, but he was convinced she wasn’t being smart. When Dmitri’s fingers inched towards a knife, Matt stood and offered to drive the mother’s car. It seemed a good way to get the bastards out of the house.

  The mother’s old Ford was boxy and noisy, but the V-8 engine had plenty of strength left. With all the windows down to air out the car, Matt was enjoying the drive until he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel on his face. Dmitri pushed the pistol against Matt’s cheek so hard his teeth hurt.

  “Let me guess: we’re not going to school.”

  “She take student’s place.” Dmitri nodded towards Nadia. “Student visa and a free place to stay. Is good. Five thousand euros.” He held up his hand to show five fingers just in case Matt didn’t understand what a good bargain he’d made.

  “Is not good. House is ugly. Food is terrible. Like making to live in Minsk. Why you waste time? Shoot him.” Nadia was almost growling.

  “While he drives?”

  They squabbled in Russian, pausing only to give Matt directions. As they fought, Dmitri pressed the gun harder and harder. His finger was on the trigger. Matt hoped he wouldn’t get any more excited.

  “I hate it when you guys talk Russian! Let’s just get the money so we can go to the mall. We can kill him later.”

  In the rearview mirror, Matt saw Chloe roll the one eye that still moved.

  Ten minutes later, Matt was standing in a dingy alley next to a Dumpster while Dmitri and Nadia wrapped his wrists and ankles with duct tape.

  “Shoot him. Is easier.” Nadia’s cold sore now covered the lower half of her face, and one cheek was so decayed that her yellow teeth were exposed.

  Anther Russian argument broke out. Matt had a feeling he was alive only because Dmitri wanted to prove that Nadia couldn’t boss him around.

  Before Nadia covered his eyes with duct tape, Matt glimpsed gloves and black ski masks in the backpack. It looked like a bank was about to be robbed. Dmitri’s face had transformed into a Halloween mask of decay. Chloe’s gray, cracked skin had shrunk around her skull, and amber pus oozed from the fissures. They shoved Matt face-first into the trunk, took his duffel, which contained his grandfather’s ax, and sped off. Whoever was driving hit a speed bump and several potholes. Each impact was followed by maniacal laughter from the front of the car.

  The trunk was, at least, large. Among the reusable grocery bags and flashlights there was also a small pink tool kit. It was the kind sold in hardware stores around Valentine’s Day just in time for husbands to disappoint their wives. When his fingers found pliers, screwdrivers, and a small utility knife, Matt was grateful to hopeless husbands everywhere. When the car came to a rough stop, he rushed to cut the tape, and gripped the blade, ready for whatever came next. Instead of opening the trunk, the trio walked away. After the sound of Nadia’s stilettos faded he kicked out a taillight. A bag lady who noticed Matt’s hand waving from the hole gently opened the trunk, standing behind her shopping cart like she was afraid something was going to spring out at her.

  Matt did jump out, utility knife in hand. “Thanks.”

  “Why…”

  “You should get out of here.” Matt handed her a twenty. The woman seemed to know good advice when she heard it because she tucked the money in her blouse and continued on.

  As soon as he grabbed his duffel, Matt knew the ax was gone. The bag was too light. The idea of the ax being used for a robbery made him much angrier than having his lips ripped up by duct tape. This was the ax that had saved him and others over and over. It was solid and true, and it held good memories in its smooth handle. Across the street was a bank. Assuming the robbers were already inside, he pushed through the door of the closest business with the idea of asking the owner to call the police. But there was Dmitri, waving Matt’s ax in the face of an elderly man who looked like a skinny Santa Claus. All around him, display cases full of jewelry sparkled under the light. Matt’s first thought was, Oh shit. He didn’t normally stumble into things, but losing the ax had thrown him off his game. Nadia, easy to spot in her tight T-shirt and black pants, leveled a gun at him.

  Dmitri grinned, and yellow pus dribbled down the black ski mask. “Look who has come. I tell you stay in car.” He started to laugh. The elderly owner saw an opening, grabbed a shotgun from under the counter, and blasted Dmitri in the back.

  The girls and Matt dove for cover. Matt already knew how much bullets hurt. He crawled to Dmitri, who was twitching on the floor, and picked up the ax, which Dmitri had dropped when his spine shattered. While Matt used Dmitri’s pant leg to clean the blood off his ax, the owner fired again and took Nadia’s head completely off. Matt wondered if Chloe had the sense to stay down. She didn’t. Her run for the door was stopped when Matt used his ax to trip her. She went flying into the glass door and bounced off. A heavie
r person might have shattered it, but there wasn’t even a crack. Swinging the ax a second time, he knocked the gun out of her hand. Matt turned to the kind-faced senior, who was aiming the shotgun at Matt’s forehead. “You should call the police now.” Matt pointed to Chloe. “This one’s just a kid.”

  The jeweler chewed his lip for a moment before lowering the shotgun. Something in his eyes convinced Matt that he had enjoyed shooting the robbers and he wanted to plug Matt, too. When the owner reached for his phone, Matt headed out, hoping the man wouldn’t mow down Chloe if she tried to escape. He might be fine with killing a girl. This Santa had a mean streak.

  The cops described Matt as a person of interest. He supposed the store owner had told them that the robbers recognized him. The little gang had destroyed the obvious cameras, but one of the two hidden ones caught Matt’s startled profile as he dove behind the engagement ring counter. He’d been hiding in the woods ever since.

  Matt blinked awake, gripping his ax before he was fully conscious. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up—the state park was quiet. He heard some crackling twigs, an owl calling, and then a human moan. It was a sound of pleasure. He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t, because even though the lovers were trying to keep their moans and giggles quiet, they might as well have been screaming. Long after they went to sleep, he was awake, missing Janey and wondering again why he’d been brought back from the dead.

  In the morning he spotted the couple. She was a shapely blonde with small tattoos on her shoulders. He was a lean, young man with a classic army hair cut. Matt wasn’t intentionally spying on his neighbors at the camp. He was keeping an eye out for rangers and cops, just as he had done everyday for the last few weeks.

  Hours later Matt was lying on a boulder letting the afternoon sun burn his face while the wind whooshed through the aspens, sounding like water rushing in a stream. He liked Colorado, but winter was coming, and without gear he couldn’t continue at the park. Over the sound of the trees he heard the blonde laughing. She had been at the campgrounds for only a day, but Matt knew the sound of her laughter.