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

by William Esmont

  “That’s enough, Luke,” Ryan said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “The important thing to remember here is that this pilot died trying to help his people. He’s a hero as far as I’m concerned, and we should respect him.”

  Archie gave a grave nod. “Your father’s right.”

  Luke’s excitement seemed to fade as the grim reality of Archie’s words sank in.

  Megan flipped ahead a few pages in the notebook. She stopped on the last entry with a date at the top of the page.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice shattering the morbid silence that had fallen over the group. “It looks like there’s one more log, written only a few days ago.”

  “Go ahead, hon,” Jack said. “Let’s hear it.”

  This is really happening. I can’t believe it. Somehow Bingham’s people pulled it off. I took one of the Eagles up for a shakedown flight yesterday. I flew south to Miami and out over the Keys before turning around. As we suspected, Miami is gone. Glassed over. I don’t know how many bombs came down there, but it was enough to wipe the city from the map.

  Bingham wants me to go west tomorrow. I told him to fuck himself. He said if I don’t do it, I can pack up my family and hit the road. Deep down, I know Jean would probably be fine with that, but I’m not. After what I’ve seen, I can’t bear the thought of being out there again. Not on the road. This place may not be perfect, but it’s a shitload better than being on the other side of the fence, fighting tooth and nail to survive. At least there are other people here. Food. Supplies. The weather is decent, although I’m not looking forward to summer. If I do this for Bingham, he says he’ll promote me. Damn it! I thought I was done with this bullshit when I got out. Thought I’d kissed my last ass. I liked being a civilian, you know?

  Fuck it. I guess there’s no such thing anymore. We’re all at war now. It’s just a matter of degree.

  I have to admit, being behind the controls of the Eagle felt good. Real good. Like I have a purpose again. I nearly busted a nut when I went supersonic. Just for a few seconds, I felt like I was a kid again. I wonder how many people have been in the air since the shit went down?

  They’re prepping the Eagle as I write this. No weapons. No need. I’ll be carrying three external tanks, enough to get me about three thousand nautical miles or so, depending on the winds. The plan is to head out across the gulf, then cover Texas, before shooting across the southwest to Edwards, near Los Angeles. Then I’ll turn around. I’ll be pushing the limits of my fuel, so I’ll have to stay pretty high up. I don’t know what it’ll accomplish. Probably nothing. Part of me wants more, wants to spend time in the Eagle. I feel free when I’m up there, looking down on the world.

  As long as I don’t look too close.

  What else can I say? Life is fucked, but I’m trying to make the best of it. Anyway, it’s too late to back out now. The whole goddamned base is on edge, waiting to see what I find.

  That’s it for now. I’ll write more when I get back. Maybe some day Mike will read this and think his old man was some kind of hero. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

  “That’s it.” Megan closed the notebook. As she did, the corner of the pilot’s photograph brushed her fingertips. She had forgotten all about it. She wiggled the picture free to take one more look and found herself mesmerized by the sheer joy evident in the child’s expression. It broke her heart to think of the little boy going through the rest of his life not knowing what had become of his father. She wished there were something she could do to make it right.

  Jack held out his hand. “Can I see it again?”

  “Sure.” She passed it over.

  Jack’s brow furrowed as he gazed at the photograph. Megan wondered what was going through his mind. Was he thinking of his own twin daughters, whom he had lost during the uprising? His wife?

  He handed the picture back and wiped at his eyes, which glistened at the corners. He squinted up at the sky. “I think we should go to Tampa. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Megan was speechless.

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Ryan said enthusiastically. “I’m sick to death of running.”

  Archie grunted in agreement.

  Megan considered Jack’s idea. While she was wary of the prospect of venturing into more densely populated areas, she knew full well they didn’t have the luxury of choice anymore. They hadn’t seen a living person since fleeing Tucson and she had no idea if, or when, the swarm would catch up with them. For all she knew, it could have shifted direction, could be filtering into the bombed-out wastelands of the north, never to be seen again. At the same time, it could still be on their heels, a mortal threat no matter how far they ran.

  She chewed at her lip, torn by indecision. They had two choices: remain in the west, in the wide-open spaces where they had room to maneuver and a chance, however slim, of staying one step ahead of the undead; or they could risk it all and drive east, plunging headlong into unknown territory, risking everything for the tantalizing promise of civilization at the far end of the continent. She glanced around and saw that everyone was waiting for her to speak.

  She made up her mind. “Okay. Tampa it is.” She wasn’t sure how it had happened, at which point the shift had occurred, but once again, she had become the de-facto leader of the group. She was in her element.

  And it felt good.

  Paige pulled Ryan aside and spoke to him in urgent, hushed tones. They returned a few seconds later.

  “We’re in,” Ryan announced, casting a withering glare at his wife.

  Paige clearly didn’t share in his enthusiasm, but Megan didn’t care. She had made her decision. She was finished with looking back.

  “You know my answer,” Archie added with a chuckle. “As if I have anywhere else to be.”

  Their journey was about to get a whole lot more difficult, but for the first time since they had fled Tucson, Megan felt a sense of optimism about the future. They had a plan, a real plan, and even if their chances of success were shockingly small, it was still better than running blind.

  She stuffed the notebook into her back pocket, taking care not to bend the picture. “Okay then. Let’s get some fuel and find ourselves a map. I want to put some miles behind us before dark.”

  Thirteen

  Ten Miles West of El Paso, Texas

  A Few Hours Later

  Megan wrinkled her nose at the sickly sweet stench of diesel fuel. She rolled down the window a few more inches and fanned her hands at the opening in a futile attempt to draw the nauseating scent off of her. Pumping from an underground tank had always looked so easy when Jack had done it. She couldn’t recall what had possessed her to try it rather than let him do it. Whatever the reason, the result had been an unmitigated disaster. It had happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, she had the tank primed and the nozzle stuffed securely in the fuel port of the SUV, the next second, the hose tumbled to the ground and great gushes of diesel fuel spewed from its free end, dousing her legs and feet.

  She had tried to clean her lower body with handfuls of stiff paper towels from the highway maintenance facility bathroom, all to no avail. The fuel was in her clothes and seemed to be a part of her skin. The best way to remove it, Ryan had recommended, was soap and warm water, both of which were in short supply.

  She sighed and returned her attention to the road ahead, scanning each abandoned car they passed, looking for signs of a child seat in the rear.

  On a positive note, they had plenty of fuel. In addition to filling both the main and the reserve tanks to the brim, Jack and Archie had scavenged a half-dozen plastic gas cans from the dead patrol cars parked in front of the facility. All six cans were lashed to the top of their SUV in a neat line, whistling in the wind.

  “We’ll find some running water,” Jack said with a chuckle.

  Megan shifted so she could see his face. “I know we will. I just feel bad about stinking up the truck.”

  “It is pretty terrible,” he said with a smirk.
r />   Megan clenched her teeth. “If you had told me about the bleeder valve—”

  “Hey! Don’t blame me. I was perfectly happy to pump. It was your decision to take over.”

  “Well, from now on, fuel is your job.”

  “But now you know—”

  Megan cut him off with a wave. “Yes. I do. And now that I know how to do it, I’m saying it’s your job. Just because I know how to do something doesn’t mean I want to do it. I know how to gut and skin a javelina. That doesn’t mean I have any intention of ever doing it if you’re around.”

  Jack was silent. “Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it.”

  “It is,” Megan said.

  Jack grinned. “Fine. How’s everyone else doing?”

  Megan twisted so she could see the passenger cabin. She and Jack had switched places with Ryan and Paige at the highway facility, with Jack taking the wheel so Ryan could get some much-needed rest. On the next seat back, Ryan and Paige were both dozing. Paige’s head rested against Ryan’s shoulder. A thin line of drool stretched from her mouth to her chest. Ryan snored lightly. Behind them, Archie and Luke sat quietly in the third row seat. Archie stared out the window while Luke was bent over, reading.

  Megan turned back to the front and sucked in a sharp breath. She was starting to feel nauseous. “Ryan and Paige are sleeping. Archie and Luke are both awake. It looks like Luke is reading.”

  “Really? He has books?” Jack asked with a gleam in his eye.

  Megan laughed. Jack had long ago read everything available in Scorpion Canyon, most of the books several times. Occasionally, scavenging missions had returned with new books, which he would in turn devour in days, regardless of subject or genre. She smiled as she recalled once discovering him reading a trashy romance novel. She had needled him mercilessly about it, joking that it didn’t speak much for his manhood. Rather than take offense at her remarks, Jack had complained he didn’t have the rest of the series, and had set about trying to engineer the next supply run so it would pass by a used bookstore in the center of town.

  “I have no idea,” Megan said. “Maybe you should ask next time we stop.”

  “I will.” He drummed his hands on the steering wheel in excitement. “Uh oh,” he said a second later, his hands falling still. “Looks like we’ve got some company ahead.”

  Megan leaned forward and squinted through the windshield. No more than a quarter mile ahead, at the crest of the next hill, a group of figures milled in the middle of the highway. Their jerky, uncoordinated motions clearly identified them as undead. The zombies parted, and she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a carcass lying in the road, the obvious focus of the creature’s interest. It appeared larger than a human. Some sort of animal, she guessed, perhaps a cow.

  “Shit! How far are we from El Paso?”

  “Not far,” Jack said. “We should get our first look at it over that rise.”

  Losing interest in the carcass, the creatures turned as one and began staggering down the freeway on a collision course with the Suburban.

  “Better wake everyone up,” Jack said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Things may get dicey fast.”

  “Ryan. Paige. Wake up!” She reached back and shook Ryan’s shoulder. “We’ve got company.”

  Ryan groaned, but sat up right away. He put his mouth to Paige’s ear and whispered. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Archie? Luke?” Megan said, raising her voice to be heard over the road noise. “We’ve got zombies up ahead. You need to be ready to move fast.”

  Archie and Luke looked up, and Megan heard the distinctive sound of a heavy book snapping closed. “How many?” Ryan asked.

  “A lot.”

  “Where are they?” Luke asked, clambering forward and straining to see the impending threat from his position in the rear.

  “Just ahead.” As the truck decelerated, she grasped the armrest to brace herself. “Why are you slowing down?”

  “Something’s not right,” Jack said, drawing his pistol from the center console. “I’ve seen this before.”

  Megan wasn’t sure what he meant. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bunch of corpses.” She squinted, trying to make out what had Jack so upset.

  Jack cracked his knuckles. “Flash burns. Looks close. I think El Paso got hit. I saw the same thing outside Albuquerque. These guys were probably out in the suburbs when the bombs fell, not close enough to be vaporized, but too far away to survive.”

  Megan gulped. She heard the sound of safeties clicking off behind her. She drew her pistol and held it against her knee. “So what do you want to do?”

  Jack checked his mirrors. “We’ll go in slow, and once we’re sure the road beyond is clear, I’ll punch through and haul ass. If they’re anything like the guys up in New Mexico, they’re hot as hell, but pretty fragile. We don’t want to spend any more time close to them than necessary.”

  The idea of radioactive zombies both terrified and intrigued Megan. The creatures were bad enough in their normal state; adding another way they could kill seemed like some kind of cruel joke, the ultimate insult on top of the injuries from which humanity had suffered.

  The wind noise from the gas cans fell to a dull rumble as their speed plummeted, and was soon overcome by the raucous clatter of the diesel motor. The diesel stench returned.

  Jack grasped the wheel tighter. “Here we go.”

  Fourteen

  El Paso, Texas

  Megan held her breath as they approached the mob, her attention alternating between the undead filling the road and what lay beyond. A morbid curiosity burned within her as she tried to imagine the condition of the city on the far side of the hill, a curiosity tempered by an almost visceral fear over what they would find. If, as Jack suspected, the city had been bombed, it would likely be impassable, even with their four-wheel drive, and they would be forced to seek an alternate route that bypassed the destruction while not deviating too far from the main road.

  Up close, the creatures were in far worse condition than she had anticipated—hairless, charred parodies of human beings with thick sheets of peeling skin and yellowing bone showing through; teeth gnashing in exposed jaws; eyes, where they were present, milky deflated orbs of dried pus. Moving with the grace of the severely inebriated, the zombies lurched forward in a slow-motion stampede, paying no heed to the two tons of Detroit steel bearing down on them.

  Jack goosed the throttle and made a slight course correction, angling them toward a rapidly narrowing gap in the throng. It wasn’t enough. The truck clipped one of the monsters on the shoulder, spinning it in a wild circle before it caught on something and disappeared underneath their vehicle. The truck shook as if going over a small speed bump.

  “Sorry, bud,” Jack murmured under his breath.

  The gap vanished as the zombies focused their attention on the truck, and before Megan could say, “Watch out,” a throng of rotted flesh had enveloped them.

  “I don’t like this, Jack. There are too many of them,” Megan said, looking at Jack and trying to ignore the diseased faces clamoring at her window.

  “I know. I know,” he said, his attention fixated on the road ahead. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

  They reached the top of the rise, and Megan let out a surprised gasp. What lay beyond was something out of her worst nightmare. The interstate leading into El Paso teemed with undead, and like the crowd around the truck, the creatures all bore the unmistakable brand of the nuclear conflagration.

  While the main population centers of El Paso appeared to have been spared a direct hit, Juarez and the slums to the south hadn’t been so lucky. The bomb had scored a direct hit there, leaving in its wake a fractured and twisted wasteland. Whether El Paso had been the original target or something had gone terribly wrong with the missile was impossible to discern. The interstate told the story of the last pathetic minutes of humanity in the border town. Cars and trucks of every shape and size clogged the freeway, all pointed east, f
rozen for eternity in a monumental traffic jam that knew no end. The twisted and tortured remains of a burned-out military blockade stretched across the road several hundred yards directly ahead, the rusted skeletons of Bradley Fighting Vehicles and Humvees a testament to the last-ditch efforts to control the population during the final, desperate convulsions of human reign. Whoever had been fortunate enough not to be burned and blinded by the blast would have been quickly picked off by the undead afterward, like lambs to the slaughter.

  The engine roared, and Jack spun the wheel hard, trying to set them on the path of least resistance. “Hold on,” he growled, and the truck lurched forward.

  Paige screamed, her voice an ululating warble that made Megan’s skin crawl. Over the woman’s wails, Megan could hear Ryan trying his best to comfort her. With a bump and a rattle, they plowed into the throng of zombies, crushing the corpses beneath the wheels like vermin.

  “Map,” Jack said, fumbling blindly at the space below Megan’s feet. “We need to find another way around.”

  “I’ve got it! Just drive!” She knocked his hand away and grabbed the tattered road atlas. She flipped it open to Texas and began tracing her finger along the interstate. “Go west three miles and take the Transmountain exit. It’ll take us around.”

  Jack grunted and cranked the wheel, turning them back to face west.

  Paige was still screaming as they accelerated away from the horde. Ryan had his arms around her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect from what he intended. She thrashed in his embrace, flinging her arms about and kicking wildly. Her foot impacted the back of Jack’s seat with dull thump.

  Jack whipped around in anger. “Hey! Get her under control!”

  Megan grasped his upper arm. “Don’t worry about her! Just drive!”

  Jack returned his attention to the road. Megan didn’t know what to do, and from the looks of the struggle in the seat behind her, neither did Ryan.