Refuge From The Dead | Book 3 | Dead Fall

by Masters, A. L.

  Nick sighed and shook his head. “So, what do we do now?”

  “We go across town to the other large pharmacy. We already cleared out the one at SuperMart. There is no use going back to that one.”

  “Is it clear?” he asked

  “I have no idea. Let’s go find out.” Jim turned and went back to the Humvee, cursing the dead thugs in his head. This had been the best and easiest option, and now it was ruined.

  Why did people seek to destroy things needlessly?

  They drove past the burned-out husk of the pharmacy and into a residential neighborhood. This one was a higher-income area and the houses had once been well-maintained. When he was a cop, he had rarely had calls to this area. Usually, it was for things like fender-benders and burglary.

  Now though, this place looked like any other post-apocalyptic neighborhood.

  Streets and driveways were cluttered with vehicles, some looking hastily abandoned. He tried to imagine what those people had gone through that first day. They had been well-insulated at the store and hadn’t had to really deal with the first terrifying few hours.

  Some of the homes had broken windows and doors that had been splintered and pushed in. Some homes were boarded up and ominously silent. One particularly large house looked to have been very well-fortified at some point. It was set back further from the road and surrounded by a tall, black metal fence. A gate stretched across the driveway. Further on, he could see bars on the windows. He wondered if those people were still alive in there.

  Should he stop, and see?

  Nick shouted as Jim was still staring at the home.

  “Contact! Nine o’clock!” he yelled into the quiet.

  Jim turned and saw a small Z hoard streaming through the houses to the left. They had appeared suddenly and without warning. They were coming through in front of and behind the Humvee. They were cut off.

  Where did they come from?

  “Open fire! Short bursts! Watch your rate of fire!” Jim shouted up at him.

  The heavy, loud thumping of the fifty shook the Humvee and Jim was glad for the earplugs he had strung around his neck. He got out and stood behind the heavy door of the Humvee. Nick was taking careful aim, attempting to conserve their ammo and to keep the barrel from overheating.

  Jim fired toward the flanks while Nick concentrated on the middle of the group of advancing dead. He was cutting them down in wide swaths and Jim was thankful for the heavy weapon. If they had gotten caught here without it, they would’ve had to run. Even then, they may not have made it out in time.

  The dead kept stumbling forward on black, mottled rotting legs.

  The mobile ones were smashing their fallen companions into the grass and pavement where they fell. A cloud of rotting stink finally found its way to the two living men, and they scrunched up their faces as they fired.

  Heads burst open. Necks exploded. Pieces of brains, fragments of bone, and rotting body fluids flew through the air, coating the ones marching behind. This disease-ridden army would never stop advancing, not unless they destroyed the heads.

  Jim thought he may have to pull the Humvee back further before they were able to take out the rest. In fact, he probably should.

  He jumped in just as Nick shouted a warning.

  “Going to have to move!” he yelled down to Jim.

  Jim put the heavy vehicle in drive and pulled down the street, hoping there weren’t more dead hidden this far up. He got back out and Nick swung around to fire to the rear. They fired for another ten minutes before the last of the dead smacked the street.

  Jim pulled his ear plugs. “Change out your belt and let’s get to the pharmacy. We don’t have the rounds for another group like that one.”

  Nick nodded and crouched in the turret, hefting another ammo can and seating into the holder. As he double charged the weapon to chamber the round properly, they heard a shout in the distance.

  “Wait!” the feminine voice screamed, echoing through the now silent, fetid street.

  Chapter Six

  Familiar Faces

  Ed

  Ed was eating his breakfast, the typical oatmeal and eggs, when he noticed a familiar face in the cafeteria line. The man was of average height and looks, and Ed knew he had seen him somewhere before.

  The familiar stranger ladled another cluster of eggs onto the next tray in line. His large hairnet obscured his hair, but his features were somewhat distinct…and his mustache.

  The man’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Ed.

  “You!” he breathed out.

  “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Ed said to him. “But I can’t recall where!”

  The man nodded, glancing furtively at the guards watching the line.

  He plopped a spoonful of eggs slowly onto Ed’s tray. The guard turned away and he watched in surprise as the man gave him another extra spoonful and slid him a sauce packet under the protective barrier.

  “Tabasco sauce,” the man whispered through closed teeth.

  It was a real treat.

  “But how do I know you?” Ed whispered back as he slid his tray slowly down the line.

  “SuperMart. I worked security there. You were there at Day One. My name is John. I never forget a face.”

  John had turned back to the next person in line, ever mindful of the suspicious guards.

  Of course!

  He remembered now, though most of the details of John’s presence were eclipsed by the fear and shock of that first day. John was one of the ones who went missing after Irma came back from the dead!

  He wished he could have had a chance to ask him where he went. He would be sure to do that next time. For now, he needed to get to eating, they would be leaving to go out to the fields soon. He took the contraband packet of hot sauce and liberally applied it to the powdered eggs, making them somewhat more edible.

  He should think of some way to return the favor.

  ◆◆◆

  A short time later he stepped again into the oppressive heat of the prison fields in summer.

  The guards were directing the laborers back over to the tomato plants and he sighed internally. His hands had only just stopped stinging early this morning after repeated washing with soap and the judicious application of cheap lotion.

  “Not you,” the guard said, barring his way. “You are over on beans again today,” he said, nodding toward the abandoned bean field.

  There was less shade there, but the beans didn’t burn his hands. He would take it, and gratefully.

  “Thanks!” he said, with feeling.

  “Don’t thank me. It wasn’t my decision,” he replied without emotion. “Get to work.”

  Ed walked with renewed vigor toward the beans, banging the empty bucket against his leg as he went. His feet even felt better. He started to have a more positive feeling. He would find a way out of here. Until then, he would fly under the radar and gather information. He would help.

  One day, Cam might need to know what goes on here. He hoped he would see him again.

  He hoped he would see them all again.

  ◆◆◆

  At ten-thirty he stopped for a water break, splashing a little on his head and chest after he drank. It felt wonderful.

  He looked around, taking note of the guards’ activities.

  They were doing their usual thing, sitting over in the shade talking to each other. They seemed to feel that this area was pretty secure. Hell, maybe they didn’t really even give a crap about guarding anyone. He supposed they were here because it was safe.

  After his little water break, he went back to his original spot by the fence. He didn’t want to come straight over here earlier. He thought that would look too suspicious. So now, he settled himself into the dirt and picked slowly.

  He looked furtively over at the guards.

  They could barely see him behind the rows of beans. He pretended to keep picking as he turned his head and looked down at the base of the fence. He wanted to see if any other s
ections of fencing were loose, and possibly what it would take to cut through a few more links.

  He ran his hand over the dirt. It seemed to be freshly disturbed, though he remembered patting it back down firmly and covering it over. It was strange. He sifted his hand to the base of the fence, feeling for the ones he knew were cut.

  Yes. There they were, just as he remembered.

  Unexpectedly, he didn’t encounter the resistance he had anticipated.

  There was more empty space than before! He could probably fit his whole arm and shoulder under if he wanted to!

  He stopped as one of the guards rose and wandered closer, probably wondering why he hadn’t moved further on down the row yet.

  He stood to throw off suspicion, and he moved a fraction further away. The guard turned and strode back slowly toward the other end of the field, where the others were picking tomatoes. Ed sat back down and rechecked.

  Yes, someone had come along and cut more of the fence!

  He looked around at his fellow prisoners and wondered who it could have been. Most of them didn’t seem the type to give any resistance, but you never knew with people. Maybe it wasn’t one of them. Maybe it was a guard.

  Maybe it was someone from the outside!

  Ed was about to get up and move further down, abandoning his favorite section and actually getting to work, when something out of place caught his eye.

  A small piece of plastic, so unnoticeable that he had almost missed it— most would have. He caught the end of it with his fingers and pulled slowly. The dirt crumbled away easily, and his heart pounded in anticipation.

  It was heavy!

  It could just be trash, he reminded himself. No need to get all worked up over some old junk. However, he didn’t think so. It wasn’t there yesterday, he felt sure of it. He would have noticed it.

  As he pulled the bag free, he didn’t dare look at it until he got it down on the ground between his feet, hidden under the lower leaves of the bean bush. He picked it and the bucket up and moved further down the row.

  When he settled back in, he looked down at the dirty Ziploc bag.

  He instantly recognized the small handful of pills. They were his pills! Why on earth would anyone else shove these kinds of pills in a bag under a prison fence? It had to be one of his people. It had to be, by gum!

  He tucked the knife inside the waistband of his underwear, hooking it on securely. He took the small square of folded paper out and looked around for the guards before he unfolded it. They were busy elsewhere. He opened the note carefully and read:

  Cart-rider. Check back here for further comms. CB

  Hell yes!

  Cam was here. He had come for him.

  Ed felt an instant joy and happiness. Cam was here. He was probably out there in the woods right now, watching. Ed looked back toward the trees closest to him. They were maybe an eighth of a mile away.

  He nodded once slowly and deliberately, then turned back around to pick.

  He had to pick fast to make up for all his dillydallying. It was easy though, because he was happier than he had been in a very long time.

  Cam

  Cam watched Ed, wondering if he had found the note or not. He couldn’t tell. The grass near the fence was obscuring Ed’s movements too much. He saw Ed move further down the row as a guard approached and felt sure that Ed has missed the package.

  Damn.

  Cam scanned the area again, checking behind him as well as the sides. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise by anyone, alive or dead. He watched as Ed settled back in to pick for a few more moments.

  Suddenly, Ed turned and faced directly at Cam. Cam saw him nod clearly once before turning back to his work.

  Ed knows.

  Cam felt a frisson of excitement that his plan was going as intended, so far. He knew it could get fucked up at any moment, but he was prepared for that.

  Anyone that ever served in combat knew that Murphy tended to make his appearance at the worst of times. It was expected.

  He left, going deeper into the woods. It was time to get this thing going.

  ◆◆◆

  He finished rigging up the surprise for the first patrol along the road, using another two claymores.

  The day after tomorrow he would initiate the ambush. He would take out the first patrol here. It would be far enough away that the sound of the blast shouldn’t travel to the prison, and the trees would muffle quite a bit of it.

  He was standing four miles from the prison, at a sharp curve in the road. The vehicle would have to slow considerably there, and that is when he would detonate the mines. The steel bearings would rip through the vehicles and tear apart the occupants.

  He would stay just long enough to put down any that managed to survive.

  He took inventory of his conscience on the way back to the cabin.

  Did he feel bad about killing the men on those patrols?

  No, he didn’t. They were doing the dirty work of a bad man. He had no use for human trafficking of any kind, or any kind of crackpot dictator wannabe.

  Those people in the prison deserved a chance at freedom, and he was going to give it to them.

  Back at the cabin, he heated up a cup of coffee and ate a cold MRE. When he was finished, he would check on his cache in the barn.

  As he ate, he thought of Angie and the folks back at home. He really hoped to be back in time to help them move over to the cabin. He wondered if Jim was keeping to the schedule there. He hoped he was. The group was coming along fine with their training, and he was proud of them.

  He was afraid though, afraid that one day they would have to actually use what he was teaching them.

  He finished up the spaghetti entrée and put the rest back in the heavy sleeve for later. He walked out to the old barn and looked for any disorder. All was well. Nobody had disturbed the place in his absence.

  Hopefully, within the next week or so, he would be going home with Ed in tow.

  He went back in and wrote out a second note to Ed and folded it, putting it in another small Ziploc. In the bag he included a small, short-range two-way radio with extra batteries. He set it to silent operation mode. He tossed in a set of flesh-colored earbuds with a mic.

  In a slightly larger bag, he placed a small pistol, two mags of ammo, and a wristwatch.

  Ed would contact him when he could, and he could give Cam intel from the inside. With any luck, he wouldn’t get caught. He packaged it up securely and went out into the night.

  He ran through the dark woods like a ghost. He owned the darkness and used it to his own advantage.

  Approaching the prison, he again noticed two guards in the front two towers. He was certain that they never expected anyone to assault from the rear— not anyone living anyway. He would take them out two nights from now, if they returned to their posts.

  After high crawling up to the fence again, he snapped the remaining four links and reburied them, along with Ed’s radio and the pistol. Now, when the time came, they had at least one means of escape. He made his way back to the cabin for a quick nap.

  He wanted to be up and out there early enough to make sure Ed got his second drop.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, Cam was high in a tree as Ed made his way slowly back to the beans.

  He started on the far side this time, wisely staying away from the place he had loitered so long at yesterday. By lunchtime, he had made his way back around to the fence side.

  Cam saw when he finally got to the cut section of fence. He watched him moving his hand down around the base of the fence. Through the lens of the binocs he saw the look of shock and temptation on Ed’s face. Cam knew he wanted to roll under that fence and immediately make a run for the woods.

  He really hoped Ed decided against it and read the note first.

  After several moments of furtive digging, Ed found the package. Cam saw him secure the radio and earbuds on his person. If he was searched going in, then he was going to have to postpo
ne his assault. He trusted that Ed would destroy the note if he was caught.

  He saw Ed read the note and lift his hand behind his back, giving a surreptitious okay signal.

  Cam sat back to wait and watch.

  Ed

  Ed hid the radio in a roll of the waistband of his underwear. Thankfully, it was a small radio, and he was a larger man, or it would have been noticeable.

  He unfolded the small square of paper and read the note.

  Standing by, transmit when able. Assault planned 2mrw. Keep ur head down. Kill guards at 12:02pm exact. Evac under fence, due south to lg. cedar.

  Ed tucked the pistol and ammo back into the bag and reburied it. It would be more secure out here. So far, they hadn’t searched him, but he didn’t want to take the chance on messing up the whole plan.

  He memorized the note, then ate it. It seemed the best way to dispose of such damning information.

  He strapped the watch to his wrist and checked the time. He supposed it was accurate. He didn’t think Cam would forget such an important detail.

  Fifteen minutes after Ed had secreted the radio on himself, it was time to go in for lunch.

  In the cafeteria bathroom, he washed his hands and face. He went into the only stall and quickly turned on the radio, plugging the earbud into one ear. He flipped the switch on the mic and depressed the button to talk. He wasn’t sure if there would be too much interference from here, but he wanted to give it a shot anyway.

  “Barbarian, this is Cart-Rider. Can’t talk now. Received your message. Talk tonight. Over.”

  “Roger, Cart-Rider. Good to hear your voice. Over,” Cam returned.

  “You too, Barbie. Out.”

  He knew that Cam would cringe at the use Jean’s bastardization of his callsign. He could almost see his expression.

  Damn, it was good to hear Cam’s voice too. He almost wanted to cry he was so happy. He knew they would come looking for him. He didn’t doubt them for a minute. He couldn’t wait to get out of here and bug the shit out of Jean, and eat some of Jessica’s wonderful food, and talk to Nick and Brad.