The Dead Series (Book 2): Dead Calm

by Jon Schafer

  Wanting to put Ricky off by being rude, Heather asked bluntly, “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I've come to talk to you and Brother Steve,” Ricky said.

  “Steve's asleep,” Heather replied. “Tell me what you want and I’ll tell him when he wakes up.”

  Ricky smiled at the woman's lie, knowing from his informant that Steve and two others named Randy and Tick-Tock had left on their little tour an hour and a half earlier. He was tempted to call Heather’s bluff by insisting he talk to Steve. This was followed by the wild urge to blurt out, 'I know where they are' and then tell her, so he could show how smart he was. Pushing these feelings down by reassuring himself that the people from the sailboat would soon realize how much more intelligent he was than them as they lay dying, choking on their own blood, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Giving Heather an appraising eye, he decided that, while she wasn't bad looking, she was too old for him. Considering how things might play out, he decided that if she was taken alive, he would give the little blonde to his Head Ushers to use before having her thrown into the Sound's Lounge.

  Alive of course.

  With that settled, Ricky turned to business by saying, “I've got good news for you, Sister Heather. If you'll look up to deck five, you'll see that the three people I've got watching you are packing up and moving out.”

  Not wanting to turn her back on Ricky to confirm this, she replied, “So what?”

  Ricky's smile faltered for a second at the woman's insolent tone and he wondered if it was possible to have her raped by one of the dead.

  Why not, he thought. I've had a few of the woman.

  Deciding it was something to look into, he said, “It's a sign of my trust by pulling those people back. At first I didn't know if you meant us any ill will, but now that I've seen you're not a threat, I've decided to let you have the run of restaurant row.”

  Instead of saying thank you, Heather gave a curt nod and asked, “ls that all?”

  Ricky had planned on spending some time giving this woman the details of how the power had been kept on for the coolers in the restaurants on deck five and how they should feel free to explore the rest of the ship at their leisure. Feeling increasingly uneasy at the blank stare he received from her, he instead gave Heather the abbreviated version of his speech then bid her good evening and made his way up the stairs.

  Heather risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw two men and a woman making their way along deck five to join Ricky at the top of the staircase. After losing sight of them as they ascended onto deck six, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ***

  “Get him off me,” Brain screamed weakly from flat on his back.

  When the Zombie had appeared in the doorway and reached for him, he had reacted like a civilian as opposed to a hunter. Dropping his pistol, he reached forward and grabbed the dead man's outstretched hands with his own. And while he may have been working out, he was no match for the strength born of the need to feed on human flesh that the dead possessed. Pushing forward as it lunged toward him, the zombie stepped on Brain’s right foot, tripping him and causing him to fall backwards.

  Thinking that if he could get his foot into the zombie's chest he could flip it over him, Brain tried to raise his leg. He moved fast but not fast enough, only putting his knee into the zombie's solar plexus as they both went down onto the deck. Holding tightly onto the creature’s wrists and bracing his knee as he fell, Brain felt the wind knocked out of him as he landed hard on the tile. In a small voice, he called out for someone to get the dead thing off, feeling his strength flow out of his body along with the last of his breath. Every muscle in his body went weak. His knee slipped from its position down to the dead man's stomach. Now with nothing to hold the dead thing back, Brain knew it would be over in seconds. The thing would lunge forward and bite him. Now wanting to see it coming, he screwed his eyes shut.

  Expecting to feel a wet gnashing mouth on his cheek or neck, Brain felt nothing. Thinking he was in shock and that his body wasn't registering the pain, he hoped it didn't register the feeling of the bullet that either Steve or Tick-Tock would fire into his head either. As if from a distance, he heard a voice saying his name and wondered if it was Jesus calling him home.

  His mind cleared when he realized it wasn't Jesus calling him but Tick-Tock. Opening one eye, he saw his role model straddling the zombie from behind. Tick-Tock had one hand dug into the dead things hair and the other grasping its collar to keep it from rearing back at him or lunging forward. Steve stood to the left with his rifle aimed at the abomination’s head.

  Seeing that Brain had opened one eye, Tick-Tock changed from calling his name to saying calmly but firmly, “You've got to let go, Brain. I can't pull him off you because you've still got hold of his hands.”

  Opening his other eye, Brain glanced down to see that he still had a death grip on both of the zombie’s wrists. Revulsion at what he was touching shot through him as he felt the leathery skin and the dead thing’s wrist bones grinding as they worked back and forth under this grip. Forcing down the bile that rose in his throat at the smell of the zombie, he croaked out, “Tell me when.”

  As if in answer, the dead thing made a mewing noise. When it did, Brain saw that part of its throat that had been ripped away, causing it to sound like a cat.

  I'm such a dumbass, he thought.

  “On three, let go and roll to your right.” Tick-Tock said in a calm voice and then started counting, “0ne, two, three, NOW.”

  Brain let go and rolled.

  Tick-Tock braced himself with his feet and lifted the zombie up while pivoting his body. Using his momentum and the weight of the dead thing, he spun it around and half threw it back through the door it had come out of.

  Seeing their plan had worked, Steve moved forward. Before the zombie could regain its feet, he shot it once through the forehead. Ready to fire again, he saw that neither the south nor the Z was ever going to rise again.

  Steve spun around and saw that Brain had made it onto his hands and knees and was vomiting onto the floor. Tick-Tock leaned against the wall with his rifle at the ready for any other threats. Seeing that the danger was over, he watched as his second in command slid down to sit on the floor and laid his M-4 across his knees. All of them were breathing heavily.

  Brain recovered enough to finally sputter out, “Fuck me running.”

  Tick-Tock snorted and replied, “Fuck me running doesn't even begin to cover that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Woman's Lake Minnesota:

  The bonfire in front of the lodge melted the snow around it in a wide circle. Clustered on the half frozen ground was an assorted collection of slat, camp and folding lawn chairs that were as varied as the people occupying them. Some were refugees who fled from the HWNW virus when it swept through the big cities but most were residents of the nearby small town of Woman's Lake. Even before the call for tonight's emergency meeting, they came out most evenings to enjoy the company of Carl Hibbing, owner of the lodge and the cabins that surrounded it. Having lived his entire life in the small town, Carl was well known to its inhabitants, as was his father and grandfather. For three generations, one Hibbing or another had served as mayor to Woman's Lake, which, after the last census, could brag a full-time population of six hundred seventy-nine.

  Scattered among the townies around the fire were a dozen summer residents who owned cabins near the lodge. Among them were also a few refugees who had moved into some of the unused fishing camps scattered around the lake. They had shown up in October and November, after being forced from their homes in the cities and before the town quarantined itself to outsiders.

  These refugees were at first met with the inherent friendliness the people of northern Minnesota were known for, but soon distrust built up in the locals, and they kept their distance. The suspicions and exclusion came about as the newcomers told horrendous stories about bodies said to be infected with the HWNW virus being burned by th
e thousands in the streets of Minneapolis, Fargo and Duluth and of armed National Guardsmen shooting down anyone acting strange or aggressive.

  The most horrendous story they told though, was that people were dying and coming back to life to feed on the living.

  The citizens of Woman's Lake watched the news and where it was reported that, while some isolated incidents of death had occurred as a result of the spreading virus, the government had the situation under control. Since this didn't jibe with what was being related to them by the refugees, there was just no way that their story could be true. Thus, the people of Woman's Lake discarded what they considered tall tales, and a schism was created between the townies and the refugees.

  This changed however, when the first case of HWNW cropped up in a local man named Otis Trevor. He had recently returned from a trip to the State Capitol where he had been bitten and infected after propositioning the wrong prostitute. The people of Woman's Lake quickly became believers after Otis had to be beaten down and killed by a frying pan wielding cook at Gram's Diner. This was after he entered and attacked a waitress and one of the patrons during the lunchtime rush, tearing bloody chucks of skin and muscle off and swallowing them. The incident was witnessed by thirty of the townsfolk, so there could no longer be any denying the disease was just as the refugees claimed.

  Further proof came about when the Constable tried to contact Otis' wife to tell her about the unfortunate incident. Failing to reach Linda on the phone, Constable Nielsen went out to the Trevor residence on the edge of town. Here he found the entire family butchered and torn apart as if by a pack of wolves. The Constable also found Sally Trevor, the youngest in the family, feeding on her mother's dead body.

  That evening, the town council convened the first of many emergency meetings. With hat in hand, they asked some of the refugees to come and relate what they had witnessed before they fled the cities.

  Word about the attack and the meeting spread quickly, and the number of people showing up at the town hall got to be so great that it had to be moved to the High School gym. Despite this, an hour before the meeting was to begin it was standing room only.

  By the time the first three people were finished telling their tale of people killing and eating each other in Minneapolis, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the gymnasium. There were still a few doubters in the crowd, but a majority believed the city folks. Carl Hibbing took the microphone and asked that no decisions be made on how to proceed with the defense of the town against the HWNW virus. He called for the council to table any motions they were considering until they had a chance to look into the crisis. As a situation like this was beyond the scope or imagination of any of the board members, this was seconded and approved to give everyone time to grasp the reality of the dead coming back to life.

  The meeting was then adjourned.

  As people filtered out of the gym into the parking lot, a few naysayers who had kept silent during the meeting decided to voice their point of view that civilization couldn't be breaking down because everything was still working. One man orated for a full ten minutes on how America was too strong to be pulled down. At the end of his speech, as if in a dissention to his view, the power went out all through town.

  A second emergency meeting was immediately called for right there in the parking lot. There would be no waiting and no tabling of motions. Something needed to be done tonight. Cars were pulled into a circle facing inward and headlights were turned on so the council could immediately reconvene. Emergency measures such as rationing the available supplies in town were passed, and an immediate quarantine was voted on and unanimously approved. Twenty-six new officers were deputized to support the village constable in enforcing the quarantine.

  The following morning, after guards were posted at the grocery store, the quarantine was implemented. Two groups of the newly sworn-in deputies went three miles past the outskirts of Woman's Lake in opposite directions along the only road through town. Here they found the biggest trees they could and dropped them across the roadway, effectively isolating the town. Hiking trails were also similarly blocked, and armed men in boats patrolled the lakeshore to make sure no one tried to get into what was now a Dead Free Zone. Two person teams were assigned to each of the roadblocks created by the fallen trees, and anyone driving or walking up to the blockades was approached by one of the men on guard duty. Unless you were from town or could prove you owned one of the cabins that dotted the area, you were asked politely to turn around and go back the way you had come. Most did, but a few of the more hard headed cases tried to bull their way past the sentries.

  These gate crashers never knew what hit them when the second guard shot them with a scope equipped deer rifle from a concealed position. Most of the citizens of Woman's Lake had grown up hunting deer, bear and moose in order to eat, so a one hundred foot shot into the center of the chest of someone trying to run their blockade was nothing compared to some of the shots they had made to put meat on the table. Either way, it came down to the same thing. Survival.

  Although the traffic at the roadblocks was sparse, at least once a day someone approached and was either allowed to pass if they belonged, turned around if they didn't or shot if they tried to break through. This continued until the first heavy snow fall. With the throughways soon blocked by twelve inches of unplowed powder, no one tried to brave the road or trails that led to Woman's Lake.

  Once further isolated from the rest of the world, and already a close-knit community, the citizens and refugees turned to their fellow man. Going out of their way to help each other survive, food was shared with the needy. Those with the know-how taught others who didn't know how to hunt and fish. Luckily, with the outbreak of HWNW coming in the fall, the residents of Woman's Lake had already filled their heating oil tanks so freezing to death wasn't an immediate threat. Most houses had a fireplace, and for those that didn't they were put up at the High School until the weather warmed and an alternate heating source could be built for their home. A feeling of self-sufficiency prevailed and already spring gardens were planned. The citizens of Woman's Lake were survivors.

  At the bonfire this night though, the good vibrations were missing.

  Earlier that day, a man by the name of Derrick Olsen whose ex-wife lived across the lake in a neighboring town had gone to visit her and drop off some venison. As Derrick approached the town of Hanson, after driving his snowmobile eleven miles across the frozen lake, he noticed what seemed to be all the citizens of this small village roaming around on the streets. At first, he wondered if they were having some type of winter carnival, on closer inspection he saw large mobs circled around some of the houses and shops that lined Main Street. Feeling that something wasn't quite right, he stopped a quarter mile from shore and pulled out his rifle. Using its scope, it took him only seconds to confirm his sense of dread.

  The HWNW virus had arrived at Woman’s Lake.

  Oblivious to the cold, the dead staggered through the thoroughfares of Hanson in a variety of dress and undress. Derrick was amazed to see one man, naked except for a pair of brown socks on which the feet had worn away to leave nothing but the tops wrapped around his ankles, wade unflinchingly through a waist high snow drift before finding a section of walkway someone had shoveled. Continuing on in the ten degree below temperature as if taking a slightly unsteady stroll across a nude beach on a Caribbean Island, the zombie joined a group of the dead banging on the doors and windows of a small house.

  Switching his view, Derrick saw there was a large crowd of the dead clustered around the brick building that served as the town's City Hall. He started searching their faces, or what was left of their faces, for anyone he knew. In reality, he was hoping desperately he wouldn't see one face in particular, that of his is ex-wife.

  Relieved when he didn't find her in the grotesque group, Derrick suddenly realized as he scanned the faces that he could only recognize one in twenty of the nightmares lurching through town. Looking closer at the clothing of
the zombies, he saw that some were wearing ragged suits and ties, while others wore light casual dress that you'd be more likely to wear if you worked in an office. This was when he noticed something else. It was the number of people on the streets of Hanson. Although the population of the tiny berg was just over three hundred, there appeared to be twice that many figures wandering around the main drag, with more showing up from side streets every minute. Quickly, he came to the conclusion that these weren't the citizens of Hanson.

  Although Derrick did spot a few distorted faces he recognized, these were few and far between. It seemed like the dead had come from somewhere else. How they ended up out here in what was almost the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

  Slightly elated that he hadn't seen his former wife among the dead besieging the town, he turned to look further down the shore where she had her trailer at the end of Main Street. Zooming in with the scope, his elation turned to dismay when he saw that the front door of her doublewide had been torn free and hung crookedly by a single hinge.

  Although they had parted on bad terms, in the four years since the divorce he and Mary had actually grown closer than they ever had been as husband and wife. Almost certain that his former spouse was dead due to the trashed door, a flicker of hope sparked the idea that maybe she had seen the zombies coming and had taken shelter in one of the sturdier buildings in town. If that were the case, he would do whatever was in his power to save her.

  Realizing that he couldn't do anything on his own, he pushed aside his emotions and prepared to focus on another section of town so he could describe everything he saw to the Constable and his men. He knew that once he reported the sacking of Hanson, the people of Woman's lake would band together to help their neighbors. Within hours they would put together a team to try and rescue anyone holed up in any of the buildings. Derrick knew he would have to lead the group back here in order to find Mary, but to do this he needed to gather all the information he could so they weren't going in blind.