We Are The Plague: Dext of the Dead, Book 1

by Steve Kuhn

  I’m out of tears.

  We’ve buried Chuck. We’ve buried Kate. And we’ve buried baby Hope. We’re leaving.

  Entry 25

  Goddammit, Kate… I’ll never understand how she was able to do that to her little girl. I think we’ve all been trying to wrap our heads around what happened in our own ways.

  Wyatt hasn’t said anything since it happened—literally… anything. He’s somehow remained functional otherwise and even pitched in on loading up the jeep. No one has gone upstairs since Hope was brought down.

  Cutty was the one who went up to get her. He wrapped her in a white sheet so no one else could see the state of her body and laid her out where Junior was digging the holes. Junior dug Hope’s grave extra deep. Frankly, I would’ve left Kate’s sorry ass where she fell, but we didn’t for Wyatt’s sake.

  Cutty promptly stalked off into the woods without another word. I know for a fact that the shot brought more deadheads our way… but we’re not leaving because of that. We’re going because no one wants to stay here with Hope’s murder looming in the house. I don’t think I could see the stains every day and stay sane. No one can.

  Cutty returned from the woods a short while later soaked in black blood and breathing heavily. His blades were caked in gore from who knows how many stenches he laid to waste, but at least his aggression was quelled for the moment.

  When we were finished loading up and burying our dead, we gathered at the graves. The boys looked to me to say something, but I couldn’t do it. I just froze and stared at the burial mounds.

  Kylee rescued me. “I was on the roof of the school,” she began, speaking in shaky tones, “perched at my post for the second day since my deployment. My orders were simple: Stick to my scope, and keep the people safe. The shootings started down below, and a round came up through the roof four feet from where I was proned out. I displaced and rappelled down the backside to the jeeps. I stashed my rifle and ammo in the rear and drew my pistol. The crowd noise was growing louder by the second.”

  The four of us listened as she told her story. No one spoke… Shit, man… no one even seemed to take a breath.

  She went on, saying, “When I opened the door, I took a quick peek, and there they were. Of all the shit going on inside that building… of all the Zs feeding on the people I was meant to keep safe… all the shooters and other soldiers like me… all I saw was a mother and child—an innocent baby and a scared mother.”

  Kylee was crying by this point, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t suck it up and say what was on her mind. After a moment’s pause, she exhaled heavily and continued, “They were all that mattered to me at that moment and every moment since. I got them out… Wyatt and Gary, too… I did my duty, didn’t I?”

  The question was rhetorical, but I put a hand on her shoulder and assured her that she had indeed done her job well. The emotions poured out of everyone, and we encouraged her to finish what she started here.

  She wiped her eyes, sniffled a bit, and stood at attention… like, for real, military-style attention and spoke the following words to our group as she stared straight ahead and resolved herself. Her tone took on an air of officiality as she finished her speech. “We all fought in our own ways here. We trained hard. We planned. We prepared. We lost the battle. We lost people. But… as long as we have Hope in our hearts, the war rages on. We can never forget what we started… because even though it was a fleeting glimpse, Hope gave us purpose and will continue to do so.”

  Wyatt knelt for a moment where Kate was buried and placed his hand on the fresh dirt before heading off toward the jeep.

  Kylee turned a sharp about-face and said, “Move out.”

  Junior shook his head and pursed his lips. He slung his rifle across his back and followed Kylee.

  I looked over my shoulder to make sure Cutty was coming along. He was behind me, empty-handed and a bloody mess. I spotted his machetes lying in the form of a cross on Hope’s grave.

  Entry 26

  We piled in the jeep an hour or so ago and got moving. Wyatt hopped out right as we reached the wood line… He said he forgot something back at the house. The rest of us took a moment to chat about where we were headed in more detail. Cutty didn’t have much to say about it. He was sorta just going with the flow at the moment. He’d earned it.

  We decided to keep going west, obviously, but we’re gonna try and shoot slightly north first so we can get to the major highway. Kylee said she knows the way because that was the road her unit came in on, and the engineers did a decent job of clearing their path. No one bothered to ask Wyatt what he went back for. He was having a tough time, so I’m sure it was something personal.

  I gotta be honest; it’s been a decent ride so far. We’ve seen a roamer or two, but the roads are relatively clear, and there’s no threat as long as we’re rolling. Kylee seems to be in the zone. I get the feeling she’s made her peace and is back on track. She’s been behind the wheel and just doing her thing. Junior’s riding shotgun, but he’s been asleep since about fifteen minutes into the trip.

  I’m going to try to get some sleep myself before we change driving shifts and take a piss break. Cutty’s praying silently. He’s been doing it on and off. Hope he gets an answer soon.

  Entry 27

  Odd—another whole herd of downed stinks, twenty or more strewn all over the road. We slowed to take a look. There were tire marks all over the place like motorcycles were doing doughnuts, and the geeks were downed by all manner of weapons. Some had been hacked up, some had their heads blown off, and others were just bludgeoned—lots of shell casings, too. Whatever group had done this wasn’t fucking around even a little bit.

  I heard shortly before I left the city about traders doing shit like this. See, they scavenge in decent-sized groups, but they don’t set up shop. They keep moving and find other groups to trade with like an old-school caravan setup. The trouble is, you never know the difference between raiders and traders.

  Raiders just take what they want and give a big ‘fuck you’ to being sociable. It’s a real fine line. I guess it comes down to who’s got more firepower or numbers. Truth is, we could use some things right now. We have some things we could get rid of in exchange for more fuel and ammo. Shit, back before I left the city, batteries were selling for a hundred dollars each, but that was when money still had some value. Either way, I foresee a very tricky situation if we come across another group.

  Entry 28

  Okay. Here’s what’s going on: Junior spotted them first through the scope. Looks like about fifteen of them or so. There are two motorcycles, a pickup truck, two cars, and a big ol’ box truck. The pickup truck is loaded down with a bunch of shit, and the group looks to be made up of men ranging in age from twenty to maybe mid-forties. They’re stopped in the middle of the road a few hundred yards from where we pulled over.

  I suggested we make contact, but Kylee shot me down quick. “No way. We’re not risking getting robbed… or worse. I am a woman after all.”

  Shit. Can’t argue with that.

  I looked to Junior for any thoughts. “Welp, they got guns, that’s a fact. I can see ‘em from here. An’ by the looks of the pussbags we saw back a ways, they ain’t half bad at shit-kickin’. Could go either way. Even if Cutty got to swingin’ on ‘em, we’re still worse off than a retard at a spellin’ contest.”

  Cutty came at Junior with a tone I’d never heard out of his mouth before. Dripping with venom, he seethed, “Stop countin’ on me to save y’all sorry asses. I’m sicka you muh-fuckas always talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Cutty can do it,’ and, ‘Cutty’ll take dis and dat…’ I’m done, man. Unless somethin’ is tryna take a bite outta my ass, I ain’t doin’ shit. Y’all can figure it out.” He spat on the ground and stalked a few steps away.

  We all looked at each other, stunned. Wyatt took a long look at Cutty before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. He scanned the surrounding area before speaking up, saying, “How about we send
a scout?”

  Kylee gave him a nod to continue his thought.

  “One of us should go up and talk to them, and the rest of us can cover from the woods in case shit pops off,” he suggested.

  Then it hit me. I told Kylee to strip. She rolled her eyes and assured me I had little to offer her. I had to chuckle at the thought before I clarified, saying, “I’ll go, but I’m not going without an insurance policy. If I ride up in a military jeep wearing your fatigues, they may be less apt to fuck around with me. I’ll strap up with one of the M-4s and look all legit. I can probably bullshit them long enough to feel it out.”

  Kylee gave a wry grin and said, “Give me your book.”

  *J* | [_] | *W* [_] - Boxtruck

  * * | X X | * * X - Motorcycles

  *C* | {}{} | *K* {} - Cars

  * * | [] | * * [] – Pickup

  She jotted down the layout of their vehicles and showed where Junior, Cutty, Wyatt, and she would post up in the tree line on either side of the road to cover my ass. I’m going to drive up in the jeep and see if I can’t have a friendly chat with them. I figure I’ll feed them some bullshit about my unit being a few miles behind me and keep it friendly.

  Now I gotta see if I can just get Cutty to play ball. Hopefully I can talk him into not only coming along to watch my back, but also see if he doesn’t mind using a gun. Wish me luck. I’ll probably need it.

  Entry 29

  After I squeezed into Kylee’s uniform and she changed, I grabbed Cutty’s attention. We took a few steps away, and I laid it on the table.

  “Cutty. Here’s the deal, man. We count on you because we need you. You may not need us, but I think if that was the case, you’d have fucked off long before now. If we put you in the shit too much, I get it. Just say it’s too much, and we’ll figure out another way, but we can’t have you just throwin’ your hands in the air and saying, ‘Fuck it,’” I explained.

  He rubbed his face with both hands and told me, “Look, man, it’s ma bad. I’m just beat. I’m not feelin’ this. E’ry time we get a good thing goin’, it turns ta shit.”

  You know what I hate? I hate when you have a conversation all worked out in your head, and the other person doesn’t follow the fucking script. I knew what I wanted to say, and I was pretty sure I knew what he would say. So, I had my arguments all worked out. Apparently I watched too much TV, though, because I never expected to agree with him. He was right. It had turned to shit. I dunno.

  These people up ahead have to be all right. They just have to. We’ve been through too much, and I believe too strongly in karma. We’re good people—at least, I think we are. We haven’t done anything but try to survive, and as far as I know, we’ve done it without fucking anyone else over—not on purpose anyway. Hell, I’ve tried to keep everyone I’ve met alive. Problem is, I’m only batting 500 right now.

  “I’m going up there to meet them,” I told him flatly, “and I don’t want you to go with us. I need you to go with us. Whatta ya say, man? Please?”

  He leveled his eyes to mine like he did back in the tree house and puffed his cheeks thoughtfully. “A’ight, Dext,” he said, nodding, “but like I said befo’… I’ma mix it up when I say I’ma mix it up. No more volunteerin’ me fa shit.”

  Fair enough.

  We rejoined the group. Everyone was armed save for me and Cutty. Junior tossed Cutty a pistol. Cutty looked at him like he had two heads. “Da fuck I’ma do wit’ dis,” he asked no one in particular.

  Junior gave that half-cocked smile and said, “I thought y’all came out ya mamma’s stink hole with a gun in yer hand. Shit, Cutty, you hoots been killin’ each other since Christ was a baby. Mean ta tell me you ain’t never shot before?”

  Cutty looked dumbfounded as he eyeballed the piece and told Junior, “Tell ya what, Junior. You can be da first muh-fucka I cap. How ‘bout dat?”

  Wyatt was getting impatient. “C’mon. Stop fuckin’ around,” he snapped. I gotta tell ya, this kid was toughening up by the second. “Kylee, can you give him a crash course?” he asked her.

  Kylee walked up to Cutty, took his pistol, pulled back the slide, and handed it back to him. “Point. Shoot. If you need more rounds than you have in the mag, we’re already dead.”

  She curtsied sarcastically at Wyatt and racked her own rifle. Kinda sexy to be honest… in an ‘I will shoot you in the fucking face’ sorta way. I tucked a pistol in my belt and nodded that we were sorted.

  We all wished each other luck before the four of them broke off. I gave them about half an hour to sneak up into position before hopping in the jeep and buzzing up to the vehicles. I gave two toots on the horn and waved my hand out the window to show I was friendly. It didn’t matter. I had about fifteen weapons trained on me as I exited the jeep.

  I put my hands up, and a grizzled dude approached me immediately.

  He was in his mid-thirties and the only one not pointing a weapon at me. I spoke first, saying, “Thank God! You guys are alive. We haven’t seen anything but deadheads for about a week now.”

  I couldn’t help but notice his terrible mullet haircut. He walked up and stuck his hand out before saying, “Soldier boy, eh… Staff Seargent Peel, I see.”

  I shook his hand, but put my own hand right back up. He smelled like B.O., worse than Cutty on a hot day.

  “Put your hands down,” he told me before addressing his crew. “Knock it off, boys! We got us one of America’s finest here!”

  They gingerly lowered their weapons, and some went back to idly bullshitting amongst themselves. I could tell they were side-eying me like a motherfucker, though.

  He asked me, “You smoke?”

  This was one of those moments where you have to make a choice, and both sides of the coin suck. I could say ‘no’ and come off rude… or I could say ‘sure’ and look like an asshole because I haven’t smoked since my teens. I’d probably cough like a pussy. Fuck it. “Yup. Got one?”

  He grinned at me and called out to one of his boys, “Cholo! Grab me a pack of smokes.”

  Cholo was a well-muscled, tattooed guy of Latin decent. He rummaged through the bed of the pickup and tossed a pack to the stranger. He offered me one before lighting his own and passed me the lighter. I lit mine and did my best not to choke on the first pull.

  “Well, Staff Seargent… the name’s Tyler. What you doin’ all the way out here by yourself?” he asked casually.

  I leaned back on the hood of the jeep and got my thoughts together. I started my lie with, “Rest of my unit’s back a few miles. We ran into a herd, and they’re tending to the wounded, though it won’t do much good. Cap’n sent me ahead to scout for some supplies. Looks like today’s my lucky day. You and your boys look pretty well set up. Think we can trade some things?”

  Tyler eyed me thoughtfully. He billowed smoke through his teeth before pointing at me with his cigarette hand. “Let’s start over, shall we?” he asked in a casually threatening manner.

  I started to speak, but he shushed me, “Tutututut… sssshhhhh.”

  I noticed some of those weapons being grasped a bit tighter as some of his group meandered a little closer. He spoke up so his boys could hear him saying, “Seems our staff seargent here can’t lie to save his own ass, fellas. I think he thinks he can pull a fast one on me. Whatta you boys think?”

  The group started chuckling and taunting me. He raised his hand to stop the chatter and addressed me directly with, “You drive up here in this jeep wearing a uniform that’s two sizes too small… with a pistol in your belt, not a holster… and tell me that your ‘unit’ ran into a herd a few miles back when I know full well we’ve had this route secured for weeks now. So, start again, yes?”

  Shit… shit-shit-shit. He pulled his own weapon and took a step back, levelling it at my head.

  Something snapped. I thought about Gary and Alex… and Hope. I thought about that little asshole in the city and all the shit we’ve been through since then. Fuck him, man, and fuck all these
tough-guy pricks. I’m so sick of being bullied and shit. I’ve earned some stripes since the water tower, and I trust the people watching my back. I didn’t even put my hands in the air.

  I took a long drag off my smoke and let it fall to the ground. I slowly butted it out with my too-fucking-small-ass boot and looked Tyler right in his beady, little eyes. “Get that fuckin’ gun out of my face,” I said in my best badass voice.

  He looked a little shocked and sort of glanced over his shoulder to make sure his backup was behind him. The only one who really looked unimpressed was that Cholo dude. He even swelled his chest a bit, but not the others. They just looked spooked.

  I started thinking about some movies I had seen back in the day—you know, the ones where the main guy is scarier when he’s all calm and shit. I stood up off the hood of the jeep and tried it out. “I’ve had more guns pointed at my face in the last week than you can imagine, friend,” I said coolly.

  Tyler grinned arrogantly and challenged me with, “Difference is, I’ll pull this trigger, leave your brain on the windshield of that jeep, and drive off into the sunset.”

  I looked back at the windshield and then to Tyler again, quipping, “That may be true, Tyler, but if you do that, my boy over in them trees is gonna pop your grape before the shell casing hits the deck. Then the rest of my crew is gonna unload on each and every one of you.”

  They all started to look toward the trees, nervously squinting to try and catch a glimpse of whatever it was I was talking about. Not Tyler, though. He laughed.

  He let his gun go limp in his hand and laughed. Matter of fact, he hugged me, that stinky bastard… and chuckled, “You crazy fucker, you! I was just funnin’.”

  I can’t tell you how relieved I was that the tension had chilled out. Tyler patted me on the shoulder and told me to call off the crew. He said, “Give your boys a whistle or whatever and come down here for a beer.”