The Undead Survivor Series | Book 1 | Guns, Rations, Rigs & The Undead

by Radke, K. E.

  Thoughts of living with Sabrina forever plagued him in the shower. If he wanted a wife he’d have to get rid of Sabrina first—and the girl was clever—she got rid of Camille without so much as a scratch. The right words and the dumb blond routine shoved Camille straight out the door.

  He let the hot water spray him in the face for a few seconds wondering if he’d make it to the table without Sabrina jumping on his penis.

  The smell of eggs drifted into his bedroom and he hurried to the kitchen. Sabrina was a master manipulator, but not a great cook. She placed a plate down on the table and Lincoln lifted his eyebrows in surprise because it seemed decent, “You cooked.” It was a statement. She avoided eye contact twirling back to the stove getting another plate for herself.

  “I’ve watched you do it a few times and figured all you did was swirl eggs around in a pot. I did try the sunny side up ones but I cracked all the yolks so I just went for scrambled,” she brought her plate to the table and sat down in front of him.

  “So, is it possible for chickens to suddenly stop laying eggs?” she asked nonchalantly stuffing food in her mouth, keeping her gaze on the table.

  “If you’re asking about my chickens, no. Older chickens, yes. But I’m guessing you’re asking about my chickens. They don’t lay eggs everyday but there should have been two.”

  Not a word came out of her mouth, so Lincoln took her silence as bad news.

  “You only found one?”

  “Please don’t be mad at me,” she pleaded and finally made eye contact. “I didn’t find any. And I searched the whole hen house.”

  Grumbling under his breath he slammed his fist down on the table causing Sabrina to flinch. “So someone stole my eggs.” Anger seeped out of him and he was trying to stop himself from flipping the entire table over.

  “Maybe it was the little girl?” Sabrina offered the solution in a small voice.

  “The little girl was gone before I got out there this morning. She’d have to be pretty fast, and needs an extra pair of hands to steal the eggs and jump the fence,” Lincoln said slowly giving it some more thought while he stabbed at his food. Finishing, he took his empty plate to the sink and stood there for a moment before getting a clean plate and putting the leftover eggs on it.

  “I can make you another plate babe,” Sabrina offered sounding more like herself now that she knew he didn’t blame her for the missing eggs.

  “It’s not for me.”

  “I can’t eat another bite,” she groaned getting up. Her arms were around him a second later. “But I love that care so much.”

  He tensed at the ‘L’ word, deciding to ignore it. “It’s not for you.”

  “Who is it for?” Sabrina’s arms slackened around his waist, the words coming out laced with jealousy.

  “The little girl.”

  “The one that broke into your house?!”

  “Yes,” he gave her a single word answer and walked to the back door before he turned around and decided to put the plate on the porch. If she climbed over the fence to get in his backyard last night, she climbed over it to escape this morning.

  “We’re feeding strays now?” Sabrina inquired with attitude as he placed the plate out front.

  “I’m feeding you,” Lincoln shot back annoyed and appeared in the living room with his arms crossed.

  Sabrina’s eyes widened in shock, and then she narrowed them as she placed her hands on her hips shouting, “Don’t you dare call me an animal Lincoln!”

  “And what do you call this?” Lincoln asked in an icy calm. “You’ve been in my house for days playing wife. To survive. I don’t blame you. I really don’t, and I don’t have the balls to kick you out. But you have to understand, before, it was hit it and quit it and I liked it that way.” Lincoln turned his head away from her, rubbing at his face because she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t do that. You liked it that way to. Don’t you dare start crying.”

  It was too late, the first tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly lowering her head so he couldn’t witness the next one. He helplessly raised the palms of his hands with his arms held out, “What do you want from me? Just tell me what you want from me.”

  He moved forward but kept a few feet between them, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. Sobbing in the middle of his living room Sabrina refused to look at him until he bent over trying to catch her gaze. “Please stop crying. I’m not going to kick you out, just tell me what you want. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I live alone. I just—I just—,” he never finished the sentence because Sabrina rushed to him nestling her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let her tears soak his t-shirt.

  “I don’t have anyone Lincoln,” she blubbered. “My dad either left town or is dead. My boyfriend has a wife he refuses to leave, and no one else would let me stay with them. I know you don’t want me here…but I have nowhere else to go. I still can’t believe you opened the door! You’re so private. But you rescued me anyway. Even when you had that other woman, you still let me stay.”

  “Well, that other woman never wanted to speak to me again after she saw you,” Lincoln said absentmindedly while running his fingers through Sabrina’s pearly blonde hair.

  “Lucky me,” Sabrina gazed up at Lincoln seeing a tilt to the right side of his mouth. She pushed up on her tippy toes touching her lips lightly to his. The kiss deepened with her fingers at his waist loosening his shorts.

  Clumsily fumbling backward they fell onto the couch causing it to skid across the floor. It bumped into his side table, and the ham radio crashed against the ground. Lincoln immediately froze at the sight. Jumping off Sabrina, he kneeled on the ground grabbing all the pieces and carefully put it back together.

  He closed his eyes and turned the knob pointing it toward the on position and heard nothing. Switching it back and forth from on to off, it gave no sign of life. Expletives exploded out of his mouth each time he tinkered with it but nothing changed.

  Sitting on the couch restlessly, he thought about what he needed to do. Sabrina cuddled into his side but he softly pushed her away, “I can’t right now. I need to think—seriously think about how I’m going to fix that.”

  “It’s just a radio, there’s not any music playing anyway.”

  “Did you touch my ham radio?” he asked irritated flicking his angry gaze over her.

  “I’m sorry,” her voice was almost inaudible.

  He leaned forward and put his head in his hands muttering, “Today was just not a good day.”

  Twenty Four

  S omething slammed hard into the backyard gate causing Lincoln’s eyes to shoot open. Missing a step off the bed, pain ricocheted down his right side as he hit the floor. Not allowing himself to linger on the sting, he rolled to his feet and peered out his bedroom window grinning at the genius idea he had before he went to bed. He’d changed the directions of the security lights around his house.

  Whoever was in his backyard had triggered the security lights and he could clearly see the tiny person settling behind the chicken coop. The mystery of the missing eggs was about to be solved and the culprit had nowhere to go.

  “Why does this keep happening?” Sabrina whispered and sat up in bed with the sheets pulled up to her chin.

  Getting dressed quickly, Lincoln staggered off balance while putting on pants. Stealthily moving through his house, he was in the backyard within seconds. He slipped on his gardening boots to trek across the yard, and went straight to the chicken coop instead of checking out the noise at his front gate. His shadow preceded him and he stood threateningly with his arms crossed over his chest.

  He roughly announced, “I don’t want to scare you. I’m not going to hurt you, but it’s time I see who is stealing my eggs. It’s a shitty thing to send a kid to steal another man’s eggs. I’ll deal with your parents in the morning.”

  No one answered.

  Whatever was at the gate continued to try to get in and as suddenly as it started, it sto
pped, leaving Lincoln in a quiet, awkward situation with his culprit.

  “Do not piss me off anymore than I already am,” Lincoln warned moving forward ready to flush the kid out.

  A mess of tangled brown hair and two brown eyes popped up over the chicken coop. She slowly revealed herself standing almost a foot taller than the coop. Realizing who she was Lincoln felt the color drain from his face. “But your sisters… ,” his voice trailed off. “Camille?”

  The little girl shook her head.

  “And your dad?”

  She shook her head again.

  “You’re all alone?”

  Lowering her eyes to the ground she nodded once.

  A high-pitched scream echoed over the neighborhood and Lincoln’s name followed afterward.

  “Sabrina,” Lincoln muttered under his breath and spun toward the scream. Automatically he stepped toward his house, but then he swiveled back to face the little girl. Unable to make a decision, Lincoln turned back and forth from the girl to his house flustered.

  “I’ll be right back. Stay here. You’re safe now. Don’t move,” he put his hands out signaling her like a dog to stay put before he turned on his heel and ran for Sabrina wondering what the hell happened.

  He only glanced back once at the little girl hoping she’d stay put until he came back and almost face planted into the side of his house. Leaving the back door wide open, he rushed through his house and skidded to a stop when he noticed the front door cracked open.

  Carefully, he peered outside and found Sabrina trying to hold off a ghoul on her trail with Stella. The spear was lodged in its shoulder, and she was pushing the thing away but trying to pull Stella out. Forcing the ghoul into each step it took.

  Lincoln’s hand went straight for his holster—that was missing. He was set to go after the gun hidden in the living room when Camille’s daughter came out of the shadows and crept up behind the ghoul—either trying to help Sabrina or escape. Throwing the door wide open without taking any precautions Lincoln stood on the porch agitated and panicked yelling, “Stop!”

  Sabrina listened to his command, pushed the spear as hard as she could and darted for Lincoln, desperate to reach him. The ghoul stumbled backward falling over Camille’s daughter, and Lincoln watched in horror as the little girl was trapped underneath its weight.

  Brushing off Sabrina’s embrace, Lincoln sprinted across the lawn watching as the ghoul registered the little girl flailing underneath him trying to escape. A rotting arm curled its fingers into the girl’s tangled, black hair as she tried to flee and yanked her back toward its mouth. It chomped on her hair searching for flesh with its teeth as she frantically clawed at the rotting hand, screaming at the top of her lungs through her sobs to free herself.

  Smashing his boot into the ghoul’s face as hard as he could, there was a loud crack and blood spurted out. Lincoln held the thing down with one foot on its chest as he wrapped his hand around Stella and leveraged her out of the ghoul’s shoulder. As soon he had control he stabbed the cannibal in its eye. The rotting fingers tangled in the little girl’s hair went limp.

  Still trying to escape, the little girl only felt the weight of a limp arm pulling on her hair.

  Kneeling down, Lincoln tried to disentangle her tresses from the dead fingers but had to pull back from the girl’s nails ripping through his skin. Her screams echoed over the neighborhood, and in order to help her he’d have to calm her down.

  “Are you bit?” he asked trying to find out if she’d been hurt physically, inspecting for any visible broken skin, but finding none. He kept his hands where she could see them and continued, “You’re ok now. It’s not going to hurt you.” Lincoln tried to sound soothing and waited for her to stop pulling away so she could see he only wanted to help.

  Stifling her sobs she sat there shaking uncontrollably on the ground while Lincoln pulled at the tangled mane. Rotting skin slid off the finger bones as he pulled the knotted hair free. Dropping the nasty flesh and gagging on the smell he decided to cut her hair away with Stella instead.

  “I’m going to have to cut it,” Lincoln said calmly. “Be very still so I can do it quickly.” He nodded his head so she would reciprocate. Wiping Stella clean, he hacked away at the tangled locks trying to cut the least amount off.

  Several more inches of hair came off than he intended on the last stuck piece because she was pulling away and drastically yanking on his shirt for attention. Shattering his eardrums was a scream he’d only heard when parents lost their children. He spun around but kept a firm grip on the little girl’s arm. Lincoln found the golden, glittery jumpsuit reflecting in his security lights behind Sabrina. Its sparkling, bloody, gnarled fingers wrapped around her shoulder.

  His teeth clamped down on the side of her face tearing a chunk of skin savagely out of her cheek like he hadn’t eaten for days. The ruby liquid spilled into her screaming mouth causing a gurgling choke. As she focused on trying to breathe rather than fleeing, it gave Burt time to maneuver himself to the side of her. Lincoln’s lip curled back when the parasite wrapped his mouth over hers. The black teeth pulled away with her lip until he tore it off her face.

  Lincoln let go of Camille’s daughter so he could aim Stella at Burt. In his throwing stance Stella flew and missed its mark because the little girl grabbed his free hand and yanked him backward, away from The King. One look at her terrified face made Lincoln lift her off the ground and onto his back, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Don’t let go.”

  Darting into his house he ran for the hidden gun in the living room and raced back outside to find Sabrina unconscious on the ground alone. The neighborhood cannibal had shredded her face and eaten several large chunks from her shoulder. Exhaling slowly, Lincoln frowned at the choice he’d have to make.

  Putting the little girl down Lincoln turned to her, “How about you go inside and take a shower in my room. Lock the door, you can use one of my shirts in the drawers—and uh—when you’re done we can set up a tent for you.”

  She shook her head holding onto his hand.

  “You have a name?” Lincoln asked, immediately regretting the stupid question.

  She nodded but didn’t say anything else.

  “Ok,” Lincoln thought for a moment. “Can you stand right here behind the wall for me? Close your eyes and put your hands over your ears.” He waited for her to comply.

  Unfortunately, she never let go of his hand when she covered her ears.

  Shifting his position in the doorway, he took a deep breath wincing at the sight of Sabrina’s marred face. Her pearly blond hair was drenched in the crimson color leaking out of her wounds before it slowly seeped into the ground. Guilt choked him as he aimed at her lying motionless in the grass. His finger pulled the trigger and he stepped inside with the little girl.

  Locking the door behind him he said, “No one’s getting in, so how about that shower? We’ll visit Melanie in the morning to see about clothes. Until then I’ll set up the sleeper tent in here.” He pulled out his keys unlocking the first bedroom door. “Will you sleep in here?”

  Her eyes were as big as Melanie’s when she saw all the food stacked against the walls, but she did not leave his side. He pulled her into the guest bathroom, gave her a towel, clothes, soap, and showed her the lock on the door. He left her on her own explaining he’d be in the first room setting everything up.

  Challenging himself, he raced the girl to see if he could set up the tent before she finished in the shower. By the time she was done, all he had left was the pillow placement and the sleeping bag to roll out. She startled him by being right outside of it as he leaned back from the finishing touches.

  “Melanie had a lot of fun in here before her dad picked her up,” Lincoln pointed inside the tent watching the girl’s eyes fill with tears. Kicking himself for mentioning the word dad he quickly shoved a flashlight in her face turning it on to blind her. “If you get scared you can use this.”

  Shutting it off, he caught tears falling down h
er face and wished instantly he’d left it on.

  Uncomfortable, he stood up and nodded his head toward the door, “I’m just going to-um you know, go over there.”

  Wiping her face with the sleeve of his shirt, she followed him out the door and he stopped, “Don’t you want to hang out in your tent and grocery shop?”

  She shook her head wiping away more stray tears.

  “I’m just going to be right down the hall,” he tried to guarantee her so she wouldn’t follow him into his bedroom.

  She gazed up at him not budging an inch.

  “Ok kid, I can’t read minds. Usually this is the part where I ask what’s wrong and you answer.”

  She lowered her shoulders in defeat and slowly walked back to the tent climbing inside. Holding her legs to her chest she peered up at him.

  “You’ll be ok. Just listen to me and you’ll be just fine. Maybe we can go back to your house and get some of your clothes tomorrow.”

  Whimpering she shook her head vigorously.

  Images from his last visit made Lincoln realize, “You were the one living on the patio…because you’re parents are still inside the house?

  She nodded.

  “We can still get by them…”

  She shook her head again.

  “You don’t want your clothes?”

  She nodded.

  “In order to get them we’ll have to go inside.”

  She shook her head.

  Trying to control his irritation, Lincoln let out a slow breath hoping his tone stayed even, “This would be a whole lot easier if you’d just tell me what you want.”

  Her tiny voice was barely audible, “Please don’t kill my mom and dad.”

  Taken aback by the request and the sound of her voice, he understood that in her eyes they were still her parents, and all she had left when she was on her own. Feeling a phantom punch to the gut, sadness enveloped him. “I promise I will get you some clothes and I won’t kill your parents.”