Elements of the Undead - Omnibus Edition (Books One - Three)

by William Esmont

  “Yeah,” Megan said. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack step away from the others and start walking in her direction. Archie remained behind with Luke and Paige.

  “What’s going on?” Jack asked in a low voice as he approached.

  “We were talking about this morning,” Megan said.

  Ryan pushed away from the truck and straightened to his full height. “Look. You saw it for yourself. You heard your friends on the radio, how the zombies came through the fence like it was nothing. They’re coming, and there’s nothing we can do to stop them. I don’t have any idea where they’re coming from, or how many there are, but it’s worse than anything I’ve ever seen, maybe even worse than the uprising itself. We need to go, and we need to go now. If you insist on going back to Scorpion Canyon, you’re on your own.”

  “I wasn’t asking you to come with us,” Megan snapped. She looked to Jack in frustration.

  Ryan let out an exasperated sigh. “Look. If you don’t believe me, let me at least show you what you’re up against. Then you can make up your mind. Okay?” He set off for his car without waiting for an answer.

  Megan opened her mouth to protest, but Ryan was already gone. She followed him with Jack on her heels.

  After Ryan retrieved a pair of binoculars from the front seat of the Suburban, he headed down the freeway, striding east along the cracked asphalt. He set a blistering pace, and Megan and Jack struggled to keep up. A few hundred yards down the road, he veered off into the desert and began ascending a short, but steep hill.

  When they reached the top, Ryan stopped and pushed his binoculars into Megan’s hand. He pointed northwest, toward the base of the Catalina Mountains. “See for yourself.”

  Reluctantly, Megan put the binoculars to her eyes. She trained them in the direction of Scorpion Canyon and gasped. Where she had expected to see open desert with perhaps a few packs of scattered undead, she instead found a landscape teaming with shambling corpses. She tried to wrap her brain around the magnitude of what she was seeing, but it was impossible. There were too many, and they seemed to be everywhere at once, like ants swarming a stray piece of watermelon at a summer picnic. She panned to the south, searching for the road that would take them to the front door of Scorpion Canyon. It was infested as well, impassable by anything less than an armored personnel carrier.

  She handed the binoculars to Jack.

  “See?” Ryan asked.

  Megan did. And for the first time, she allowed herself to acknowledge that Scorpion Canyon, and everyone in it, was really gone.

  Eleven

  Near the Arizona/New Mexico Border

  Mid-Morning

  Megan opened her eyes to discover a breathtaking panorama of snow-capped mountains dominating the eastern horizon. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The right side of her skull throbbed from where she had fallen asleep against the unforgiving glass of the window. A hint of nausea bubbled in her gut.

  “Where are we?” she mumbled as she shifted to the inside edge of her seat, out of the sun’s reach. “What time is it?”

  “Around ten,” Jack answered. “We’re almost to Las Cruces.”

  Megan pushed the hair back from her eyes. “Las Cruces? Already? I can’t believe I slept so long.”

  “You needed it,” Jack said, taking her hand in his and giving it a soft squeeze.

  Through the hazy fog of exhaustion, Megan tried to recall the last individuals with whom she had spoken in Scorpion Canyon, to put names and faces to those who had perished while she had lived. She wished she’d had the foresight to visit with each and every person before setting out, to tell them all what they had meant to her over the years. At the time though, the expedition, if she could call it that, had seemed at most a routine excursion, barely riskier than a supply run into Tucson. She cursed herself for succumbing to the illusion of normalcy, for letting down her guard and pretending there was anything such as normal anymore.

  It’s not supposed to be this way, she lamented. I should have been there.

  She leaned into Jack, nestling her head against his shoulder. “I hope it was quick.”

  Jack put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Me, too… me, too.”

  Megan rubbed at her eyes and sniffled. She wanted to cry. Needed to cry. However, the tears refused to come. Instead, she was suffused with a body-numbing exhaustion the likes of which she had never experienced, not even during her solo trek from Las Vegas to Tucson after the uprising. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and forget about the world, to escape into a place where Scorpion Canyon still lived.

  That wasn’t an option. They were alive, and Megan intended to stay that way for as long as possible.

  She shifted her position, enjoying the feel of the plush leather seat against her backside. Ryan’s fully loaded Suburban was a far cry from the utilitarian National Park Service pickup they had left behind at the I-10 junction.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Archie was asleep. Luke stared out the window at the passing scenery.

  She shifted her attention to Ryan, who was behind the wheel. “How are you doing up there?”

  He answered without looking at her. “Tired. And we need gas. We’re down to an eighth of a tank, and that’s the reserve. If we don’t find something soon, we’re all going to be walking.”

  Megan heard rustling behind her and turned to look.

  Archie was peering at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Problem?” he asked.

  Megan grimaced. “Fuel.”

  He put his head back against the headrest. “Of course.” He closed his eyes and appeared to go back to sleep. Luke, she noticed, had cocked his head and was observing their exchange while pretending to read.

  The next several minutes passed in an uneasy silence. Megan watched the mountains grow closer. She was about to nod off again when something on the side of the road ahead caught her attention. She grabbed the front headrests and pulled herself forward to get a better look. Paige gave her an annoyed glare, which Megan ignored.

  “What’s that?” Megan asked, pointing past Ryan’s shoulder.

  Ryan leaned over the wheel and squinted. “I don’t know.”

  “We should stop,” Megan insisted.

  Ryan’s gaze flicked to the fuel gauge then back to the road. ”We don’t have a lot of—”

  “It’s okay,” Megan said. “This’ll be quick.”

  With a surreptitious glance at Paige, Ryan tapped the brakes and nosed the truck into the divider between the east and westbound lanes. Gravel crunched and popped beneath the tires as they entered the median.

  The Suburban rolled to a stop, and Ryan shifted it into park.

  “Can you roll down your window?” Megan asked Jack.

  He did, and she slid across the seat so she had a better view.

  “It’s a parachute,” Archie announced out of the blue. “Military.”

  “A parachute?” Ryan asked. “What’s it doing out here?”

  No one had an answer.

  He killed the ignition, and the motor fell silent.

  “Are we getting out, Dad?” Luke called out from the rear.

  “In a minute, son.” Ryan pulled his gun from the center console and placed it in his lap. “Someone should stay here with the truck.”

  Archie and Paige agreed to stay, along with Luke. Luke complained about Ryan’s decision, but Ryan didn’t relent.

  After a quick weapons check and a hastily constructed plan of what to do in the event of an attack, Megan, Jack, and Ryan climbed from the truck and set out for the parachute.

  ***

  When they got within ten yards of their destination, the wind gusted hard, filling the free edges of the parachute with air and pressing the gossamer fabric against the unmistakable outline of a human form. Megan broke into a sprint, covering the last several yards in seconds. Falling to her knees in front of the shrouded figure, she pulled great handfuls of slippery fabric away in
a frantic attempt to uncover the person. She was almost through when a vise-like grip seized her wrist. The fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of her arm and compressed the bones together in a painful twisting motion. With a shriek, she tried to step back, but her attacker yanked her forward, throwing her off balance and onto her side.

  “Jack!” she screamed. “Help!”

  Jack rushed to her side and yanked the last bit of fabric free.

  Megan recoiled in disgust. A man was strapped upright in a bulky ejection seat. He wore an olive green flight suit with United States markings. An opaque visor stretched across his eyes, hiding his face. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and jaw. With an inhuman burst of strength, her attacker drew her arm toward its mouth, the only thing between its infected teeth and her bare wrist the thick rubber mask.

  “Get it off!” Megan shrieked. “Get it off!” She pulled with all her might, but the zombie was too strong.

  A muffled groan emanated from behind the mask.

  “Watch out,” Jack said, pulling his pistol and aiming at the helmet.

  Megan ducked her head and turned away as Jack pulled the trigger. Her ears rang with the crack of the pistol, and the pressure on her wrist vanished. With a quick yank, she tumbled out of the dead pilot’s grasp, tumbling painfully onto her back.

  As soon as the initial shock of being alive wore off, Megan burst into laughter. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her belly ached from the sudden outburst. Squeezing her eyes shut, she found herself momentarily paralyzed at the absurdity of their situation, overcome by raw emotion and unable to do anything but cackle like a mad woman.

  “What the hell is so funny?” Jack asked.

  She swallowed and wiped at her eyes, trying to get control of herself. She held out her hand, and he helped her up. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m just happy to be alive.”

  “Let me see your arm,” he said with no trace of mirth in his voice. Megan held it up and he inspected it. Another giggle escaped her lips.

  “You’re fine,” he announced after a thorough inspection. “He didn’t get through.”

  Megan turned as she heard footsteps approaching behind her.

  “Is everything okay?” Archie asked. “I thought I heard a shot.”

  Jack holstered his gun. “Yeah. Our friend here decided to try to take a bite out of Megan’s arm.” He kicked a puff of dirt at the dead pilot.

  Archie’s eyes opened wide as he looked to Megan for confirmation.

  “I’m fine,” Megan said as she squatted in front of the zombie pilot. “Thank God he was wearing that mask.” Taking care to avoid the splatter from Jack’s shot, she dug her hands into the pilot’s pockets, starting at the top of his body and working her way down. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  She came away with a pocket-sized spiral-bound notebook, a brown leather wallet, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, and an orange plastic lighter. As she recovered each item, she placed them on the ground beside the ejection seat. When she finished, she picked up the wallet and the notebook, and got to her feet. She tossed the wallet to Jack and flipped open the notebook.

  As she scanned the pages, Jack thumbed through the wallet and pulled out a picture. He dug through the rest of the billfold, and not finding anything, tossed it in the pilot’s lap. He stared at the picture intently, turning it over and checking the back, then passed it to Ryan, who did the same before handing to Archie. Archie gave it a quick glance and gave it to Megan. Megan noted a smiling young woman and toddler before tucking it behind the last page of the notebook. She continued reading while the others watched.

  “Guys. You’re not going to believe this,” she said. “This pilot is from MacDill Air Force Base, in Tampa. There are people there.” She looked up. “We’re not alone.”

  Twelve

  Near the Arizona/New Mexico Border

  Back at the Suburban

  Megan held up a finger, and the excited chatter of the others fell silent. She began to read aloud:

  5 November

  It’s been too long since I’ve written anything here. Too much going on, so I’ll try to cover the important stuff. Jean and Mike are settling in pretty well. I was worried at first, as it seemed all Jean wanted to do was cry. She couldn’t even take care of Mike. I thought I had lost her, but she’s been getting better over the past few weeks. Crying less, at least. I wish I knew what changed. Leaving Asheville was hard on her. Hell, it was hard on all of us. If I’d had any idea of what was waiting for us on the road… I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t have pushed so hard. We were safe there. At least it seemed so.

  The people at MacDill seem decent enough. It’s not like Peters told us, though. This isn’t really a US military facility. Not anymore. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, I saw the bombs fall. I watched on the news as the military crumbled under the onslaught. They didn’t stand a chance, not against an enemy who was already dead.

  Speaking of Peters, I wonder how he’s faring. I felt like a dick for saying no when he asked me to come with him, but there was no way I was going to leave my own family behind to help him search for his. I just couldn’t. I still can’t imagine the hell he went through being so far away when the shit went down. Not knowing. Fuck that. He said he’s going to bring them back to MacDill when he finds them. I hope he makes it.

  Megan glanced up from the notebook to gauge the reaction of the others. They urged her to continue.

  “The next couple of pages are just doodles,” she announced, thumbing deeper into the notebook. “It looks like it picks up… a few weeks later.”

  What a week! Major Greene is dead. It happened a few days ago, but I think it was building for a while. It seems a lot of people were pissed at the way he was running things. It came to a head on Sunday night. Poor bastard. They got him while he was sleeping. Lindholm, Smith, and Bingham are running things now. They’re calling themselves a ‘temporary leadership council,’ but I’m pretty sure Bingham is the one running the show. That word “temporary” is only a joke, a way to calm everyone down while he gets his bearings. Jean isn’t taking it well. She’s back to crying again. We had a big fight, and she blamed me for bringing them here.

  Fuck.

  She’s right. I wish we were still in Asheville. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. The council seems convinced we need to push outside the base, to take the fight to the undead. I think they’re full of shit. We’re not ready. Not even close. And besides, there’s nothing left to reclaim if we wanted to. Nothing but the dead and dying.

  Ryan cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “When was that written again?”

  Megan flipped back a page and found the date. “About three weeks ago.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  She moved on to the next entry. “He picks up again four days later. Saturday.”

  I was right. And it’s worse than I thought. Bingham came to see me last night. Turns out someone told him I flew Eagles when I was in the service. He’s got some harebrained idea about getting one running and sending me out on a recon mission. Says he wants to do a flyover of the southern states and see what’s left, see if anyone else is alive. Fuck that. I haven’t been behind the controls of one of those birds in twenty-five years. He’s convinced it’ll come back to me, like riding a bike. I told him he was full of shit, that getting one of those relics in the air will take an act of God, and without people who know how to work on them, it’ll be a suicide mission. He didn’t buy it. He said we have two planes, plenty of fuel, and all of the manuals we need to figure out how to prep for flight. What a stupid bastard! Yeah, sure, we could maybe get one off the ground, but what then?

  Jean went ape-shit when I told her, accused me of trying to abandon her. She hasn’t spoken to me all morning.

  Fuck!

  Megan sensed movement and looked up to find Archie motioning at her.

  “What is it?” she asked, glad for the break.

  Archie licked his lips and glanced arou
nd. “I just wanted to say this pilot had some serious balls. Either that or he was bat-shit crazy. I spent some time behind the controls of an Eagle when I was in the Air Force, and they’re not something to mess around with, especially if you haven’t been up in a while.”

  Luke stared at Archie in awe. “You used to fly?”

  Archie beamed with pride. “I sure did. But that was a long time ago.”

  “Do you think that’s what happened to him?” Luke asked, inclining his head toward where the pilot sat strapped into his ejection seat. “Do you think that’s why he crashed?”

  Archie gave Luke a thoughtful look. “That’s a really good question. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on it.”

  “But where’s the plane, then?” Luke asked, looking around.

  Archie rubbed his hands together, clearly delighted to have piqued Luke’s interest. “It depends on how high he was when he punched out. The wreck is probably miles from here.”

  Luke cocked his head as if he didn’t understand.

  Megan sensed his confusion and decided to help. “Have you ever thrown something out of a car window?” she asked.

  Luke glanced at his father, then nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “You know how it seems to fly away from you, while you keep moving?”

  Luke’s face brightened. “It’s like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Megan’s right,” Archie said, giving her a wink. “Only when you’re moving at those speeds, things happen a whole lot faster and travel a whole lot farther.”

  Luke’s expression turned to one of disappointment. “That sucks. I wanted to see the wreck.”

  Archie chuckled. “There’s probably not much to see. Just a big hole in the ground.”

  “A big hole?” Luke asked. “That’s it?”