The Dead and The Living (Book1): The Dead and The Living

by Wimer, Kevin

  The man screamed as he fell to his knees. Brandy’s naked body was quickly covered in blood and guts. She pulled the knife from the man’s belly as the other man regained his composer. He quickly got to his feet and started to take a step backwards to try and get away from her, but his pants were down around his ankles and it caused him to stumble and fall to the ground and onto his back. Brandy let out a primal scream of rage as she leaped on top of the man and began stabbing him. She stabbed him at least ten times before realizing what she had done. She could hear the man taking breaths, gurgling blood and wheezing. She had pierced a lung with the long blade of the knife. Brandy looked at the man whose eyes were wide with fear—no longer filled with delight. She rolled off him and to his side. She knew the man would be dead within minutes. She wanted to make him feel pain—pain that was unimaginable.

  Brandy looked at the man’s body. He was leaking blood and had not only shit himself but pissed himself too. She turned and looked at the other man who was lying face down on the floor and in a pool of his own blood and guts. He was dead. Brandy could feel a sense of delight washing over her. It was the first time she had taken a human life. She turned her attention back to the dying man before her. She narrowed her eyes while looking at him. She looked towards the lower half of his body and to his manhood. Brandy gripped the handle of the knife while grabbing his penis in her hand. She placed the blade at the base of it and then looked at the man whose eyes were wide and begging for her to stop and to help him. She heard a laugh. It was her who was now laughing as she slid the blade through his soft flesh and cut his penis off. The man screamed. He screamed until his eyes began to bulge out. She looked at him and knew she could inflict a bit more pain on him before he left this world and went straight to Hell. He was just a worthless shack of shit—scum that deserved what was happening to him and much more. She knew he would burn in the fiery flames of Hell, but while he was still here on earth, she was going to make him feel a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before.

  Brandy held the tip of the knife to the sack of his testicles. The man was still wailing with pain as she drove the blade through his sack and on into the lower half of his body. She felt the warm sticky sensation of his blood filling her hands as she slowly twisted the blade. She pulled the knife out of him and stood. She looked down at him while still holding his penis in her hand. The man was gasping for air. He was taking his last breaths. She dropped his severed penis onto his chest and turned away as the filthy bastard took his last breath. Brandy felt nothing. She was as numb as her hands had been. She walked to where her pants were lying on the floor. She looked at them as she fell to the ground and onto her knees. The blood covered knife now laid next to her. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat. Brandy tried to take in a breath of air, but the smell of human feces caused her to gag and then throw up.

  Brandy heaved until she could heave no more. She leaned back onto the hunches of her feet and began looking around the room. She looked to where she had seen the shadowy figure. The dimly lit room made it hard to see but she could see the outline of a human form. Brandy grabbed the knife and gripped it tightly in her hand. She stood and started to walk towards that dark figure. Her heart was beating like a drum as she stopped only a few feet from that darkened figure.

  “Come out or I will kill you!” she demanded.

  The darkened figure made not a sound or any movement. Brandy commanded for whoever it was to step out and show themselves. She stood there for a moment longer waiting for them to do as she had ordered them to do. She took a breath and held it as she stepped forward when the figure didn’t comply. She stepped into the darkened area of the room with the knife in her hand and at the ready. She wished she had a gun. Brandy held her one hand out and began looking for the wall in hopes finding a light switch. She slowly made her way down the wall until she found one. She flipped the switch and the room filled with light. Brandy fell to her knees and began gagging. She gagged and wished she had had something in her stomach to throw up. The once darkened area of the basement was full of bodies. She could see the bodies were both men and woman. Most of the bodies were of young woman. Brandy knew how they had met their fate.

  Brandy had stopped gagging long enough for her mind to begin to work. She knew she had to get out of the basement and as far away from this place as soon as possible. She ran to her pants and quickly put them on. She quickly searched the room for weapons and found the rifles the two men had had with them leaning against a wall. Brandy did as Tex had taught her to do. She checked to see if they were loaded and ready to fire. She flipped the safety off the rifle and turned towards the door. She took a breath and told herself that she would kill anyone that dared try and stop her. She wouldn’t let anyone take her alive—not ever again. Brandy raced across the room and to the door. She placed a hand on the knob of the door and slowly turned it. The door opened into a hallway that was brightly lit unlike the room she had been kept in. She stepped out with the barrel of her rifle pointed in front of her. She checked the hallway and made sure that it was clear and then quickly began rushing down it. Brandy was in mid stride when the lights overhead had gone out. She gasped a dreadful sigh as she froze in place. She gripped the rifle for all that she was worth. She could hear men talking—someone saying to go and flip the breakers. The voices were coming from above her.

  Brandy heard a door opening above her and then footsteps walking across the old wooden floor. She followed them with her eyes in the darkness and then slowly began taking a few small steps in the same directions that she thought the man above her was walking. She held her breath as she came to the end of the hallway. She felt around in the darkness for a door. It took her only a minute to find it, but it felt like hours. Brandy was just about to open the door when the sound of gunfire stopped her. The footsteps above her grew. She could hear men running and shouting orders as the sound of gunfire increased.

  CHAPTER 20

  Tex pulled a lollypop from a pouch attached to his plate carrier while looking into the rearview mirror of the truck. He unwrapped it and placed it into his mouth and swiftly moved it to the one side. He would have had killed for a smoke right about now. It had been years since he had had a cigarette. It was a nasty habit that he wished he had never started. He looked at the road in front of him and at the cars that had been parked in various spots. Tex could pick out the path of passage that had been created by Deacon and his group of murderers. He knew that whoever had made this hidden passageway was skilled in the art form of war and pulling off what would be the perfect ambush. He knew because it was how he himself would have done it. The cars had been placed here to slow travelers down—either on foot or in a vehicle of some sort. He wished he had had a tank. Tex took a breath and told himself that the bastards wouldn’t be out here tonight waiting to ambush someone and take their belongings. He was sure they would be back at their compound celebrating their evil deed of destroying Graceland and successfully taking Brandy. It was then that his mind shifted from what lay ahead of him to the main reason as to why they were out here tonight. Brandy. He couldn’t imagine the horror of what she might be going through. He hoped that what Sam had said would happen hadn’t happened yet. He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as he weaved around the cars and the bodies of the dead that lined the road. The anger within him boiled hotter than Hell itself.

  The main streets of the city had been much like the one they were on now. Stalled cars and dead bodies everywhere. The group had been lucky so far that they had not had to deal with a horde of walkers. The group had only seen small packs of undead. Tex had given orders not to engage the walkers. It would only bring more trouble and alert Deacon and his group that they were on their way to kill them. The group wasn’t to fire shot unless their lives depended on it. Tex had weaved around stalled cars and bodies for the last hour and half. It was a trip that under normal circumstances would have only taken them thirty to forty minutes to reach their destination. He looked at his
watch and knew they had only three hours of darkness left. Dawn would soon be approaching, and their cover and concealment of darkness would be lost. The group had come to far to turn back and wait until night fall approached them again. It would have to happen tonight or not at all. Tex knew that his plan was tactically sound. Deacon and his group wouldn’t be expecting them—at least not tonight. He was sure Deacon would send out a group tomorrow to see if anyone had survived through the night and then pick them off one by one to put an end once and for all to the group at Graceland.

  Tex pulled the truck up to the intersection and stopped. He looked at the traffic light above him and then took a breath and let it out. The group had now reached the point of no return. He turned the headlights of the truck off and then pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes and quickly had a look around. He could see the road that he and his group of raiders needed to take to his left. Pleasant Valley Road. What a name for a road that leads to nowhere pleasant. The start of the warehouse complex was less than a mile down the road. Tex looked at the green and grey hue of the world in front of him and then at the road that they would soon turn onto. He could see not a living soul moving—a handful of walkers lined the roadway and that was it. He would run them over if they got in his way. He wouldn’t be using up his firearm to kill them—not unless his life depended on it. He knew the others would do as he had instructed them to do. Swift and silent was key to this rescue mission. Tex knew that silence wouldn’t remain long once they attacked Deacon’s compound. The night air would soon fill with the sounds of war. It was the thought of that that caused his pulse to quicken. He felt a surge of adrenaline rushing through his body. It was a rush that only war could bring. The thought of raiding this compound at night took him back to his time in both Iraq and Afghanistan. He loved night raids. Nothing like kicking the door in when the bad guys are tucked in bed and fast asleep. Tex thought as he fought the urge to chuckle a laugh. He couldn’t wait to kill the bastards that had taken Brandy. He couldn’t wait to kill those that had killed his friends—his family. Justice would be paid for in blood and a body count that he hoped outnumbered those that had died at Graceland.

  Chris looked at Tex who seemed to be lost in thought while scanning the area around them. He pulled his night vision goggles down and had a look at the world through them for himself. He could see small groups of walkers but not a living soul in sight. The convoy behind them had followed their lead and where now looking through their own night vision. Chris felt the truck slowly move forward as they began moving through the intersection and onto Pleasant Valley Road. The group was now passing Cracker Barrel. It had been one of Chris’s favorite places to eat. His favorite meal had been the special on Saturday night. Chicken and rice. He took a breath and slowly let it out as the memory of that soon to be forgotten world faded. It was a world that felt like a lifetime ago—a lifetime that never existed. Chris looked at Tex and then back at the road in front of him. He slowly began moving his hands across his vest, checking and double checking where things had been placed. He did this without looking. He couldn’t afford to hesitate while reaching for a magazine to reload his rifle. It would be that moment of uncertain hesitation that would get him killed. He wished he had had more time to train with the plate carrier and its assortment of pouches. He had been used to the tools of his trade being on his belt, not strapped across his chest like they were now.

  Chris looked over his shoulder as they began to cross over the overpass of I-81. He looked at the convoy behind them and knew that they would soon be making a hard-right turn. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he thought about the group racing off into the darkness and down the road that would lead them to the backside of the warehouse complex. Chris turned his attention from the convoy behind him to the interstate below. He could see more than a hundred stalled cars and what appeared to be a rather large gathering of walkers. He hoped the bastards stayed where they were. He hoped they didn’t follow the sounds of war that would soon fill the night air. He knew the population of walkers around the warehouse complex was small—almost non-existent. Chris could feel his hands shaking. It wasn’t from being nervous. It was from the adrenaline that now flowed through him. He turned his head and looked at the road in front of him and then into the passenger side mirror. The convoy was now turning onto the road that would lead them to their destination. He said a prayer for each of them and hoped that he would see them all again. He felt like cursing himself for still holding onto hope. Hope was for the fool hearted of this new world. This was now a world of no hope—a world that longer belong to the living. It belonged to the dead. The thought of that lingered in his mind as they passed the first set of warehouse buildings. It was a set of buildings that Deacon and his men had yet to put into use. The buildings sat empty.

  The two men looked at the warehouse buildings that lined both sides of the road—scanning for trouble as they drove on. Chris knew in time Deacon would have men stationed inside of them. The buildings had been used for ice storage and very little else. The dry goods that had been stored inside three of the buildings had been moved to the top of the hill so that Deacon and his group could guard them. It was in the early stages of the groups formation that they had done that. Chris was guessing that Deacon had enough manpower now to not only man these empty buildings but the ones atop of the hill too. He knew that higher ground was key. It not only allowed them to see who was coming and going but a better chance at survival. Higher ground was also easier to defend. Chris took a breath and let it out as the truck neared their destination. The group would get out of the truck and cross open ground and uphill under the cover of darkness. Tex had told him that tonight would be the best night to do this kind of raid. The moon was hidden behind clouds that had moved in. It looked like they would soon be dealing with a rainstorm. Tex was hoping that it would start raining once they started their trek towards the compound. It would help mask the sounds of their movements.

  Chris could feel his heart racing as the truck pulled to the side of the road and stopped. The group of raiders had reached the first of their two destination. It was the point of no return. It was now or never. Brandy was counting on them. Chris was sure the young woman wouldn’t make it more than a day or two and that was only if Deacon allowed for it to happen. He knew the bastard would have her tortured and used for pleasure. Deacon wasn’t the kind of man that would sexual abuse a woman—at least not himself. He wasn’t the kind of man to physically force himself onto a woman. He would take what he wanted but the woman had to be willing. He would mentally torture them until he found their breaking point and then exploit it to his advantage. It was all about control for Deacon. He enjoyed seeing the misery of others. It somewhat sexually aroused him—seeing the abuse of rape and torture. Chris had witnessed things that turned his stomach—things that he would now have to live with because he had allowed it to continue. He had allowed for it to continue out of fear for his own life. His urge to survive had been much stronger than that of his urge to fend for those that couldn’t fend for themselves. It was those things that had broken him. It was what had led him leave the group. He couldn’t take seeing what he had seen and what he knew he would keep seeing if he stayed. The rage boiled within him as the memories filled his mind. Chris couldn’t wait to put a bullet into each of them. He couldn’t wait to see Deacon taking his last breath. It was long overdue.

  Tex reached up to the dome light overhead. He popped the cover off and took out the bulb and placed it on the dash. He then turned and looked at Chris who sat there quiet. Tex could see his friend was a bit nervous—maybe a bit anxious at what was to come. He knew Chris had never been in this kind of situation before. He had never tasted the spoils of combat. Chris had been an officer of the law—a good man that was about to let what little evil that might dwell deep within him take over. Chris was about to become a stone-cold killer. The kind of killer that Tex and the others needed him to be.

  “Hoss,” Tex said, “
You good to go?”

  Chris nodded.

  “I’m good.”

  Tex looked at his watch. The group had less than twenty minutes to make it up hill and across open ground. Ron and his group had nothing but flat ground to cover and little obstacles standing in their way. It wasn’t like what Tex and his group were facing. He hoped that he himself was ready for the trek ahead of him. It had been a while since he had faced such a hard task as the one that he was now facing. Tex knew from what Chris had told him about the area that Cubbie and his assault team were heading into would be little more than a stroll in the park. The land was flat and the only obstacle standing in their way was that of open ground. Chris had told the group that Deacon and his men had nothing in the way of night vision. The group used outside lighting and spotlights to light up the surrounding areas. Tex hoped that Cubbie’s raiders would get to the gate without incident and quickly be able to cut the power supply to the warehouse complex. It would then be up to him and his set of raiders to get inside the front gate while Ron and his raiders entered the rear gate. Damn if this don’t feel a bit like a night raid in Iraq . . . Afghanistan too. Tex thought as he looked at the men and woman getting out of the bed of the truck and moving into the overgrown brush on the side of the road. I’ve missed this shit. Missed it more than I thought I would. He narrowed his eyes and wondered what that meant about himself. It was something he hadn’t wrestled with—the killer inside him. The man who was able to pull the trigger and take the life of another living being without hesitation. He had done it for his country but now he was doing it for those he called family.