Dext of the Dead (Book 4): We Are The Extinction

by Kuhn, Steve

  Murphy scratched his chin and suggested, “We don’t have to. We have blood and tissue samples coming out of our ears from both Kylee and Don at this point. I think we can start in an entirely new direction now that we have this stuff from both of them. I have some ideas that Morofsky might find interesting.”

  Chalmers nodded, looking somewhat relieved at the prospect. “Well, that’s great news. The problem is that once the colonel finds out he’s been compromised, he’s going to bring everything he’s got at us to protect his investment. It’s not safe here.”

  Murphy huffed. Frustration was clearly mounting. “Not good enough! This is the only place any of us know of with these kinds of features. We need to be here to work on this—period.”

  Chalmers swallowed hard because he knew that was a true statement. We were also about to find out that he had another curveball to throw at us. He brought his hands to his head and rubbed at his temples as he searched for a way to lay out his plan. “We’re taking Kylee and Don out of here. I’ve spoken to a friend on the outside, a higher-up. He’s sending some men here to reinforce the facility in case the colonel’s men show up. That should at least make working here a viable option, provided they aren’t outgunned.”

  Cutty chimed in, saying, “Well den, why we leavin’? You got men comin’ to protect da place. We could just stay.”

  Chalmers shook his head. “No good. It’s just insurance. If the colonel comes at us hard enough, this place could still fall, even with the reinforcements. If that happens, it’s game over. Kylee and Don are out of here. They have to be protected.”

  Hook cleared his throat and asked, “What the hell makes you think being out there qualifies as protecting anyone? Going back out there is as much of a death sentence as staying.”

  Chalmers shrugged helplessly. He didn’t have the right answer. None of us did.

  Murphy told us all, “You’ll be better off out of here. I hate to say it, but it’s true. You’ll have Chalmers, Don, Kylee, Cutty, Dext, Hook, and I’m sure Chalmers could muster another man or two. Against the dead, that’s a helluva team. Against highly trained military personnel… not so much.”

  Lilly huffed at not being included but, as much as I hate to say it, her opinion didn’t count on this one. More importantly, Hook made an attempt to fuck it up, saying, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I didn’t start this fight, and I don’t give a good Goddamn about Chalmers, his family, this colonel guy, or any of that shit. I care about Alyse, and I ain’t leavin’ her here like that.”

  Murphy looked at Hook for a long moment and exhaled heavily. “C’mere.” They walked out of earshot and began chatting. It was intense and clearly spirited, but they didn’t seem to be fighting or anything. I watched as Murphy’s face expressed sincerity and Hook animatedly displayed concern and worry sprinkled with anger. They went on for a good five minutes as the rest of us stood quietly and pretended not to stare at the two of them. In the end they shook hands—er, hand… and returned to the group. I don’t know what was said, but they seemed at peace with one another.

  Cutty asked them, “Y’all good?”

  They nodded at him and then to the rest of us to continue. Chalmers once again took the reins, saying, “We’ll need to get your gear, weapons, ammo, your truck, all that shit ready to go, and we need to do it quietly. We can’t spook the staff here. They’ll have enough to deal with once the new help arrives.”

  Hook asked Chalmers, “About this ‘help’… You think they’ll hold it together?”

  Chalmers stood slightly taller and answered confidently, “They’re the best thing we’ve got left. I trust in that.”

  Hook scoffed and retorted, “That ain’t good enough. You army fags turn everything you touch into hot, steamy shit. I can’t trust you assholes with a water run, much less an actual operation.”

  Chalmers added, “They’re marines.”

  Hook smirked at Chalmers devilishly and said, “Oh… why didn’t you say so?”

  I asked to see Kylee, but Chalmers told me that it would be best to leave them alone for a while.

  I guess it’s for the best that I didn’t tell her I loved her after all.

  I also don’t want to go back out there again. None of us do, but if Chalmers, Morofsky, and Murphy are right—If Kylee and Don are the fix for this whole mess… I don’t know. It feels like I have to do everything I possibly can, for Lilly… for everybody.

  I’m no hero, though. I’m not made for this shit. JC was made for this shit. Fool was made for this shit—not me. But they’re dead, fuckin’ dead…

  Entry 130

  Saying things have been hectic for the past day or two would be the understatement of the century. We’ve been covertly packing clothes and loading D-Prime with supplies, including ammo, meds, some backup weapons, and so on. It’s been a lot harder than I expected it to be since the guys on watch here are gigantic douche bags, but with all of us cooperating, shit’s gotten done.

  Lilly has been instrumental in pulling this off, with her special mix of adorable badassery. A lot of the guys around the perimeter have heard the trumped-up story of her stabbing mush mouth in the dorm, and she often regales them with the tale over and over again. It’s the best distraction we could ask for because, while she explains the finer points of knifeplay to the men, we’ve been going behind their backs like thieves in the night.

  I suppose the first order of business is the matter of Don. Honestly, I like the guy. We met him a couple of hours after Kylee heard the news. He was, at the time, the most pissed-off human being I’ve ever seen, and rightfully so. Imagine you just came around from a drug-induced stupor that lasted for months to find out everything that has happened. I can’t blame him for wanting the colonel’s head on a pike. I can only hope he’ll get the chance to do just that.

  Kylee is emotionally exhausted, and it shows. However, her spirits are up now that the initial shock has worn off, and the two of them have been spending almost every waking moment together, even as we prepared to hit the road once again. She loves him. I don’t think she ever stopped loving him, but every time she smiles at him, it’s like a knife is twisting in my gut. Ah well, fuck it. Like I said, the dude’s cool as hell, so it could be worse, right? Right?

  Anyway, I’m sure that once he gets his bearings, the old special forces-type shit will kick back in for him. I’m anxious to see how he does out there since he hasn’t seen any of this since the beginning from an outside perspective. We’re trying to prepare him mentally for the shit we’ve had to deal with out there, but words are just words. We’ll only see what he’s made of once the herds come. I hope he doesn’t need to be babysat.

  Sooooo, yeah. All of that’s been going on.

  Cutty continued to visit Alyse with Hook, where he read her passages from the Bible before lights-out. She woke up last night, and luckily I was there for it. Hook jumped to her side and grabbed her hand as she opened her eyes. Her first words were, “I felt Him. It was beautiful.”

  Hook tried to shush her and encouraged her to take her time, but she seemed excited to tell us all. “There wasn’t a tunnel or anything, just light—brilliant, white light like the purest thing you’ve ever seen. For some reason I didn’t have to shield my eyes, though. And it was warm, like during the early days of summer. He wrapped me up and protected me. So lovely.”

  Cutty asked her excitedly, “What He look like, Alyse? What He say?”

  She weakly shook her head and told him, “He didn’t ‘look’ like anything. It was a presence that I can’t explain. I just knew I was safe. I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

  Cutty smiled at her as she drifted in and out. Hook offered her a sip of water, which she accepted eagerly before resting her head back on the pillow. He brushed the hair from her face and said, smiling, “Look, Alyse. Some things have happened. We have to do something—Well, I have to do something, and I want you to kn—” He stopped short as we realized she had fallen back asleep once more. He sighed heavily with tight li
ps, opting to end it by simply kissing her on her head.

  Cutty and I left him with her. On the way out Cutty told me, “Yo, Dext. On some Shouldah Nigga shit… We gon’ be a’ight, man. She said what I needed ta hear. He up there, man! She seen it with her own eyes.”

  I nodded at him slightly and gave my honest opinion, telling him, “She’s also been doped up since she got shot. People see all kinds of shit when stuff like that happens.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, nigga. She seen Him. Dat’s all that matters ta me. I saw it in her eyes, homie. It was on the real.”

  I shrugged and told him that if that’s what he needed to hear to help him find strength in his faith, then it didn’t make a damn bit of difference what I thought. He should go with it.

  Some time later, the final preparations were made and we gathered everyone for a head count before we slipped out—Chalmers, Lilly, Murphy, Hook, Cutty, Kylee, and Don. We stood next to D-Prime and our new ride, a military Humvee. Both were fueled, and we had canisters for backup. This was easily the most prepared we’d been since the beginning. While I was still shittin’ bricks, there was a pervasive confidence within the group, save for one glaring detail. As with everything else, there were surprises.

  Murphy gave Hook a nod, to which Hook said, “You promised.”

  Murphy told him, “I did, and I’ll take care of it. You can trust me.”

  Hook extended his good hand and met Murphy’s hand in a firm shake. He told Murphy, “You tell her I’m doing this to keep her safe, to keep her alive, and to give us all hope.” It was received with silent affirmation. Hook then asked him, “You haven’t told them, have you?”

  Murphy frowned and said sadly, “I thought there’d be more time.”

  My stomach turned. I knew there was more to that conversation those two had outside of the quarantine infirmary than they let on. I just never expected the next part.

  Addressing everyone, Murphy said, “I’m staying here, guys.”

  There was instantly dissent in the ranks. Cutty sucked his teeth with frustration, and the others, myself included, began protesting the decision immediately. He didn’t budge, though. In fact, he backed up the decision, strongly saying, “Look, Sally, Alyse can’t move yet. Morofsky needs all the help he can get, and we really need one of us here—if nothing else than to just see how it all goes down. Remember back at my house? Remember Wyatt and Trey finding all my shit from before? This is my chance to make it right on my terms. I can be an asset here because I’ve seen this shit coming for years. I can make a difference here. My Eleanor would have wanted it that way. And once Alyse is up and around, I’m sure she’ll be a great help, too. My mind is made up, guys.”

  Kylee eyed him thoughtfully before asking him, “You sure about this? Like, reeeeeally sure?”

  Murphy grinned and said, “Look at you guys. You look ready to take on the world. Go do it. Get this man to his family. Get yourselves safe. I’ll try and see to it that there’s a better world beyond this when your job is done. Besides, I’m the only one clever enough to bullshit my way out of this thing if it goes south in a hurry. You retards will just end up shootin’ and stabbin’ anything you come across anyway. I’m sure.”

  He smiled. He was at peace with it. So, who the fuck were we to argue? Murphy was my friend, and if he needed to stay and work with Morofsky and Clint, then so be it.

  There were hugs and cheek kisses. There were well-wishes and ‘good lucks.’ There were handshakes and smiles. No one died today, but a part of me did. I really hope I’ll get to see Murphy again some day. I mean that. He smirked at me and whispered, “The last ride of Wyatt Earp and his immortals…”

  As Murphy disappeared back into one of the more nondescript buildings, a voice called from the top of a trailer, “Hey! I can’t keep the gate clear of watchmen for much longer. We doin’ this shit or what?”

  Chavez. What the fuck was he doin’ there?

  Chalmers called up, “We’re goin’. Everybody, get in.”

  Whoa, whoa, whoa…

  I snapped at Chalmers, “Fuck that! He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  Chalmers stepped in close to us and said powerfully, “He’s a loose cannon, yes, but he takes orders. I can’t trust him to be here when the shit hits the fan, and this is the best way for me to keep an eye on him. He’s also the only one who could clear us a path to get outta here quietly. He’ll grow on ya.”

  Cutty scoffed and quipped, “Like a wart on ma dick…”

  Chalmers shook his head and started to argue, but Chavez called out again, “Let’s move out! I see flashlights on the other side headin’ this way.”

  There wasn’t time. It was now or never. The gates flew open, and our two vehicles exited the facility, kicking dust and gravel behind us. Westward to Fort Bragg.

  Entry 131

  I’m so numb to it.

  Death.

  When I was a younger man, before all this, I often found myself obsessed with it—not so much with the manner in which one dies, but more with the moments leading up to the ‘lights-out’ point. I’ve spoken about it before, I’m sure, like once the damage has been done, whether it be an accident, a gunshot, a bite. Regardless of the trauma, for many people, there is this space in time when death is imminent and you’re just waiting for it to wrap you up and whisk you away to the other side. I remember sitting on the internet for hours watching these violent videos: beheadings, car crashes, anything with a fatality, just studying those final moments. I never cared so much for the spectacle that was the final blow. Instead I found myself watching people’s faces as they slipped away and wondering to myself what exactly was going through their minds at that exact point in time.

  Bizzy, for example—she had to know as she lay there, just before the shock overtook her, that she was a goner. Before the fear consumes you or before you simply just accept that it’s happening, I imagine there is this wave of mixed emotions, no doubt full of disbelief that it finally happened to you. Certainly there is something to be said for the mystery of how you’ll exit this world being solved, but I don’t believe there is relief in that. Everyone wonders at some point how they’ll go, but when you’re finally faced with it, I highly doubt anyone is satisfied.

  For some, however, it comes quick and painlessly. Many would say that’s a blessing; though, I’m not so sure. That time to lay there and make peace with it gives you a second to reflect on how you spent your time here. It gives you time to appreciate how short your life actually was. I guess that’s why it’s often a person’s final words that carry the most weight. For those that go quick, sadly those last words are often mundane. That’s a shame.

  We stopped for a piss break on the side of the road, which was a mess of snarled traffic. We had been stopping constantly to move vehicles off the road and had more than a few close calls with some sleepers. Most of the bodies in the cars were long dead, and many were nothing more than skeletal remains picked clean by the bugs and carrion feeders. Lilly asked me at one point why the people in the cars didn’t turn if they died right there, whether it was a car wreck or whatever.

  I gave it some thought before I answered her. Truth is, I didn’t really know for sure, but I had an idea. My guess was those that died in crashes may have had some head trauma that effectively did the job of destroying the brain enough to stop them from turning. I also told her that I’d be willing to bet many did turn, but bernies are fuckin’ stupid. They couldn’t exactly figure out how to undo a seatbelt or open a car door, so they sat there in the desert sun, and their brains cooked. It sounded like a good enough guess, and she nodded, satisfied with my answer.

  Kylee had taken Lilly off a ways from the men for what they called “girl’s pee,” leaving me and the others lined up like a bunch of dudes at a piss trough during a sporting event. We chatted idly about the route we were taking and speculated on whether or not the reinforcements had made it to the facility—just stupid shit like that.

  No sooner had I stowed away
the kraken and zipped my pants, I heard Cutty say, “Aw hell naw,” as he scrambled to get back into the cab of D-Prime. “Watch y’all asses, nigga! Dugs comin’!”

  Chalmers and Chavez both reached for their weapons with their dicks in midstream, nearly pissing all over themselves. Chavez spewed, “Goddammit! What the hell is he sayin’? The fuck is a ‘dug’?”

  Chalmers answered for him, shouting, “Shit! Get up on the cars! Dogs!”

  Don darted past me as I hopped up onto an old Buick. He scooped Lilly up and gave Kylee a push in the direction of a big-ass station wagon. They scrambled to its relative safety.

  I brought Murphy’s old binoculars up to my eyes to get a decent view. Dashing towards us at breakneck speed was a pack of nearly twenty feral dogs of all different breeds. They all were wearing collars and running in tandem, but they weren’t making any noise save for the jingling of their tags and their paws slapping the dry earth. Chavez snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me?” as he raised his weapon. Don did the same.

  Hook yelled back at them all, “No! Don’t shoot!”

  Chavez steadied his aim and sent a single round into the pack as it approached, instantly dropping what appeared to be some sort of Labrador mutt. Kylee managed to stop Don’s shot before he pulled the trigger.

  Hook snapped once again, “Stop fuckin’ shootin’, asshole! There’s dead around!”

  No sooner had the words left Hook’s mouth did a small contingent of bernies begin shuffling our way through the small gaps in the jammed traffic. Chalmers and Don jumped from car top to car top towards the dead to engage them with melee weapons and knives while I made my way to Lilly. I passed her JC’s old pistol and told her, “Stay put. Got that?”

  She told me, “I got your back.” She tried to wink at me, but she managed to just blink both eyes cutely. I jumped down to cover Hook in case the dogs attacked.

  Chavez stood there dumbfounded, looking from the dogs to the dead and back again without making an actual move. Seems Chavez had been living the cushy life inside an armored facility for too long. Motherfucker didn’t even realize that gunfire brings more of them on—just frozen. He didn’t do shit until Cutty jumped down from the cab of D-Prime, tossed a backpack to Hook, then snapped at Chavez, “Kill da bernies, nigga! Da fuck is you doin’?”