“The others will follow you now. Should you find another lurker like yourself, there might be confrontation,” Doctor Gellar whispered. “But you will help us to rid our world of these wicked things, Derick.”
Derick nodded.
“Now that I have your full attention. Are there any more of you?”
Suddenly he remembered Pam. This emotionless creature that had been forced into servitude by the fine doctor had found his way out rather quickly. The thought of protecting Pam became everything to him at that very moment, and with a tear trickling onto his right cheek, the doctor realized his mistake.
“Alan!” Doctor Gellar shouted with desperation.
It was too late. Derick's newfound strength easily broke through the bonds that held him to the chair. He lunged at the fine doctor and in a single motion, ripped both vocal chords and vital flesh from the man's throat – killing him instantly.
Derick could hear the shuffling of feet pounding their way up the steps and he waited, just like a well-seasoned cat waited for mice. His eyes eerily the same as the purring predator. As they entered, Derick made short work of each of them. They were merely three more dead carcasses to be heaped onto the floor beneath the poster of one highly-overrated basketball player from a time that was.
Derick walked down the steps of the house and somehow he knew that the house was now empty. He couldn't explain it, nor could he hope to. But his senses had allowed the truth to be felt long before it was discovered with his eyes and ears.
Derick had entered that house a prisoner with his hands bound and his fate sealed. But he left something far more dangerous – a monster with an agenda. He would have his Pam, no matter the cost. He would sacrifice as many souls to God above as was required. There was no more guilt – not now.
Only blood-soaked revenge.
-
When Gordon woke up from his on-again, off-again nap (or as he called it, “watch”), he nearly shit his pants like a Stephanie Meyer fan trapped in a roomful of literary scholars. They were coming.
“Sweet mother of Jesus!” he jumped to his feet and began banging the bottoms of his boots onto the stairs – making his way up to the patio.
It had been plenty enough to wake Carlos and Pam, and give them a window of opportunity to look anything but sexual.
“We got a fucking problem!”
“What is it?” Carlos asked.
Pam was concerned, too, but did her best to straighten her white tee shirt.
“There is a horde coming, man!”
“How many? What about the iron gate?” Carlos asked.
“I'm not sure, but I think they ran that mother fucker down. At least two hundred.”
“Two hundred!” Pam yelled.
Now the direness of the situation sank itself into her pretty little head and it showed.
“We can't defend against that.” Carlos said.
Well no shit. Gordon thought. What's next, mother fucker? Are you gonna tell me that water's wet? Broccoli sprouts taste like shit?
“We need to get to the back yard.” Carlos added.
“Then what?” Gordon asked.
“We've got to swim for it, that's our only choice.”
“I can't fucking swim!” the big man pleaded.
“Then you had better learn fast.” Carlos replied. He took the butt of his shotgun and smashed the glass that surrounded the patio. By this point, they could hear the wicked pounding away at the front door downstairs. It was only a matter of time.
After striking the glass four times, it finally shattered.
“Be careful on the broken glass, Carlos said. “We're gonna have to drop down and make a run for the water. Gordon, you can go first since you'll be the slowest swimmer.”
Gordon didn't like the idea of dropping ten feet down, either. But he'd land on grass and hoped that it would take the brunt of it. He jumped and hit the ground just as hard as he'd thought he would. Standing up to his feet slowly, Derick was on him. Tearing into flesh with his teeth while scraping and gouging at will.
Carlos was right behind him and didn't wait to ask Derick why. Aggression would be met with aggression. Prison had taught him that. He'd lost his shotgun on the way down and even if he'd somehow managed to find it, Derick was far too close to be shot. Carlos watched Gordon fall to his death. Derick had ripped the big man's throat out with his teeth.
“Derick!” Pam shouted.
She no longer feared the tumble from the upper-level of the house or even the swim in front of them. Pam watched Carlos do his very best to stay in the fight. Derick's senses had been heightened and it showed. He was now much faster than they'd ever seen him before, and certainly stronger. That said, Carlos had always been the alpha male of the group. They'd all known it since day one. He landed several flush shots on Derick, but it quickly became apparent that Derick was superior. He used his fingernails to dig flesh from Carlos' midsection and in the process, the former convict finally fell to the ground. Worse, even, was the fact that several dead had now started to make their way into the backyard. Closing the gap with each staggering step.
“Derick! Please!” Pam cried. “I need your help.”
He stopped – even the monster side of him.
“I need Carlos in order to stay alive. Derick, I want to live.”
The doctor had promised him that any emotional attachment would be gone. The doctor had lied. For several moments, Derick looked at the woman that he'd loved for so long now. Way before the wicked took their place in this world as the superior race. Long before they'd started seeing each other back at the restaurant. Derick thought of the very first time he'd laid eyes on Pam. Back in the fourth grade. She'd fallen on the playground and skinned her knee, and Derick remembered helping her walk over to Mrs. Ellis. From that very moment forward, he'd always loved her. He didn't always know it and he certainly didn't always show it. But this monster now stood in front of Pam with tears streaming from his cheeks.
And then his eyes – his cursed raven eyes – flickered themselves to the horde that had gotten within ten feet of the group. Derick pulled the set of car keys from his pocket and pointed to the far right. He nodded and held them out for Pam.
Perhaps it was an effect of the injection, though he'd known another lurker who spoke at will. But Derick found it impossible to speak. He wanted to – God knew he wanted to – but for whatever reason, he was unable to utter the words I love you. Instead, he would have to show Pam his feelings.
He needed to protect her.
Tossing the keys at Pam's feet, Derick once again pointed out the direction of the Hummer. They'd eventually find it without him. It would take time, but Derick had confidence in Carlos' ability to adapt. The keys and general direction would be enough.
Thank you. Pam said.
Derick nodded and did what any man in love would do, even against the insurmountable odds of defeat. He ran into the horde of approaching undead and brought the fury of hell with him.
Derick would fall that day, but he would take dozens of wicked with him. Providing enough distraction for his two friends to slip away. Pam would be safe because of him, and that was the measure of true love.
As Derick lay there, his dying breath would be focused on his love for Pam and his newfound fascination for the birds above. Many of them were ravens, which he thought was odd, and all of them were staring at him with the intensity of one true God. Finally he understood that they were the souls of the fallen.
And then he was gone.
Chapter 15
Carlos would drive and he took his sweet time getting into the SUV.
He clenched with pain as he pulled himself up. Derick had shredded the skin on his midsection, but that would heal with time. He found irony in the fact that Derick had hurt him, much like the kid must have hurt when letting Pam go. Carlos would gladly accept the pain in order to be with the woman he loved.
“You OK?” Carlos asked.
Pam continued to cry as she locked the pa
ssenger side door. She offered nothing in reply. There would be plenty of time for them to become close, but today was Derick's day. Along with all of the others they had lost.
She wasn't concerned with the stockpile of supplies in the rear of the Hummer or its near-full tank of gas. Carlos was. His mind was tailored for the art of survival, and that's why Derick had spared his life. Even from the grave, and through the acts of another, Derick would protect the woman he loved.
Carlos didn't press the issue. Instead, he turned the key and the SUV's engine rumbled to life. They would waste no time in leaving the area and going in search of something more. There had to be others out there trying to survive. People they could trust.
Maybe.
For now, they were both just happy to be alive. Carlos and Pam headed north. They understood that in the end, it didn't matter. Fate had a way of showing up at just the right time.
Author's Note
When I originally released this story, my readers thought it felt like a graphic novel – and they loved it. That's one of the reasons I decided to pull Deadworld from the mold of standard paperbacks. Plus, this baby looks fancy on my bookshelf here at home. They're also more fun at book signings and, well, the list goes on. The important part is that you're here.
Over the past six years I've made a name for myself as a science fiction author. I've had plenty of success with it, and I've honestly enjoyed writing about spaceships. However, when I did my final read on DW, I realized that this is my legacy now. I'm absolutely in love with this story and its characters. I'm pretty sure that you will be, too.
This is not your typical zombie survival horror story. Let me repeat that. This is not your typical zombie survival horror story. Sure, there are zombies and people doing everything in their power to survive. Like you, I've heard the debate: slow zombies vs. fast zombies. In this story you'll find both. You'll also find that survivors are usually just as deadly. I wanted to create a world where there are no real “bad guys”, only good guys and good guys doing bad things in order to survive.
Finally, I'd like to thank a few people for making this project a reality. My wife Cassey. Her encouragement means everything to me. Also, McKenzie and Dawson. My kids are fantastic and I only hope that their kindness is a reflection of my parenting. Even at a young age they understand that zombies do exist – compliments of Apple and Android. Daniél Lecoq, my editor, who puts as much work into these stories as I do. Finally, Constant Reader, I'd like to thank you. Believe me when I say that this is our series.
Trust me. There are plenty more Deadworld stories coming.
John Macallen Davis – September 2017
Own the paperback in a collectable graphic novel size!
Also by John Macallen Davis
Gunship Series
Gunship - Kindle - Nook
Glimmeria - Kindle - Nook
Reflections - Kindle - Nook
Gears and Spears - Kindle - Nook
Legendary - Kindle - Nook
Space Rebels - Kindle - Nook
Bone Harvest - Kindle - Nook
Ghost Planet - Kindle - Nook
Skyfall - Kindle - Nook
Fleet Series
The Fleet - Kindle - Nook
The Blood War - Kindle - Nook
Chaotic Worlds - Kindle - Nook
The Afterworlds - Kindle - Nook
The Run - Kindle - Nook
The Great War - Kindle - Nook
Vampire Hunters - Kindle - Nook
Return of the Fear - Kindle - Nook
The Colony - Kindle - Nook
Graveyard - Kindle - Nook
Singles
Hammer of War
Atlantis
The Colony
EMMA
Brookhaven
American Superhero
The Journal of Emma Wilson
Catch me online
johndavisbooks.wordpress.com
Deadworld Page 21