Serial Killer Z: Volume One

by Philip Harris

  She nodded. “Next time a zombie comes at you, don’t hesitate.”

  “No-No, I won’t.”

  “Good, now let’s grab what we can and get out of here.”

  The packs Santos had given us were the military-style large canvas cylinders, and it quickly became all too clear that they were overkill. The ground floor was dotted with piles of building materials, and we salvaged a few tools—hammers and screwdrivers, mostly—but otherwise, there was virtually nothing we needed. There was certainly no food. The second floor was only accessible via the damaged staircase. I tried climbing it, but the frame shook ominously before I’d made it to the third step. The second floor was largely incomplete anyway, and apart from a hefty metal toolbox, it looked even emptier than the ground floor.

  Santos found a large roll of blue plastic, more of the type that had been used to seal the openings in the building’s walls. She got me to help her move it over to the door, ready to take it out to the trucks. There was the crackle of gunfire from outside. She didn’t say anything, but I could see her shift her attention, listening for sounds of trouble. There were no shouts and no more gunshots, so we went back to our fruitless search.

  There were no more zombies, but there were signs that they’d been in here—smears of black blood, torn cloth with scraps of rotting flesh still attached.

  In the end, we didn’t need Harwood’s ten minutes. Once it was clear we’d gotten everything useful, Santos and I gave Wilson our near-empty packs, grabbed the roll of plastic, and carried it outside.

  I could hear Harwood talking to someone, but my attention was focused on not tripping over the uneven surface. We were nearly at the trucks when I recognized one of the voices.

  Ling and his two companions were standing a few feet down the road, their hands raised.

  Chapter 39

  Familiar Faces

  Santos lowered the roll of plastic to the ground, readied her rifle, then took up position off to Harwood’s left, mirroring Novak’s position on his right. Wilson moved alongside me and let the packs drop to the ground.

  “Who are they?” he whispered.

  I shook my head slowly, but I was more intent on controlling the flood of emotions welling up inside me. Surprise mixed with anger had left my senses reeling.

  Lawson saw me first. His eyes met mine. I expected a reaction, surprise or more of his hatred, but all that registered was a slight upward curve of his lips to show that he’d recognized me. Bailey was standing a few feet behind the other two. There was a thick black bruise across her jaw.

  Ling was focused on Harwood, but Lawson said something under his breath, and Ling looked at me. He showed even less reaction than Lawson had. I was puzzled at first but quickly realized they must have seen us arrive. Once we’d cleared out the zombies and gone inside the building, they’d approached Harwood. Now they were trying to convince him to let them stay.

  “We’re more than happy to pull our weight,” Ling said. He directed a thumb over his shoulder. “We’ve got weapons back there, and we know how to use them.”

  “How long have you been out here?” Harwood said.

  “Since the beginning. My wife and I were on a hunting trip when things got bad in the city. We decided to stay out here. We met Lawson and another guy, Green, a couple months ago.”

  “You got a camp?”

  “We had one, but some of the biters came through. There were too many of them. They killed Green, forced us out.”

  I could see Harwood mulling over their story, could almost see the cogs turning in the back of his mind. Even if they hadn’t left their weapons in the forest, it must have taken guts for Ling and the others to walk onto the site. I couldn’t see Stephens, but he was out there somewhere, and Ling must have known they were outnumbered.

  If Harwood thought they were playing him, or just didn’t like the way they talked, Santos and Novak would be able to cut them down before they could do anything. I didn’t doubt they’d do it if Harwood ordered them to. Part of me wanted Harwood to give the word, but the shadow saw the opportunity Ling’s presence presented. Somewhere, Ling had my tools.

  “Where you been gettin’ your food?” Muscles said. He was standing beside one of the trucks, leaning against the tailgate and trying to look unconcerned.

  Ling didn’t take his eyes off of Harwood when he replied. “Like I said, we’re hunters.”

  Muscles nodded and looked at Harwood as though the captain had been looking for his approval. Harwood ignored him.

  We stood in silence for what felt like several minutes before Harwood flicked his hand at Santos. “Check them out.”

  Novak adjusted his grip on his rifle as Santos put her gun down and walked over to Ling. Stephens appeared, his rifle raised.

  Santos gestured to Ling and the others and got them to fan out. Then she moved from one to the next, patting them down and checking for bites as she went.

  When she finished, she backed away a few feet then said, “They’re clean.”

  “All right,” Harwood said, “you can come with us, but consider yourselves on probation. Any trouble, and you’re gone.”

  Ling dipped his head. “Understood.”

  Harwood looked over his shoulder. “Let’s get the rest of the supplies loaded.”

  Wilson and I picked up the roll of plastic and carried it over to the trucks. I kept my eye on Ling and the others, but they ignored me. They joined Novak by one of the piles of wood and, after some instruction, began carrying it toward Harwood’s truck.

  Wilson went back to pick up the packs while I waited for Santos to retrieve her gun. Stephens came over to where we were standing.

  “Any luck?” he said.

  “No,” Santos said. “We got a few tools, some plastic, but not much else. How about you?”

  Stephens flicked his head to his right. “There’s a storage hut over there. We got nail guns, woodworking tools, safety gear. There’s a MIG welder, too, although it’s old. Might be able to get it to work, though.”

  The equipment was sitting beside the trucks, ready to be loaded.

  “Wilson, Black,” Harwood said. “There’s a roll of chain-link fencing over on the east side. Go get it, but be quick; we need to get going.”

  As if to reinforce Harwood’s comment, Novak fired off a couple of shots. Wilson ducked instinctively. A zombie had wandered onto the building site along the same road we’d used. Novak fired again, and the back of his head exploded.

  Harwood jabbed a finger toward the far side of the site. “Go on.”

  I nodded and ran toward the hut. I felt self-conscious, as though I was under scrutiny. I knew it was just my imagination, but I could feel Ling’s eyes burning into my back. I tried to work out where he might be keeping my tools. None of them appeared to be carrying any gear, and the leather case I kept my scalpels in was too big to fit in their jacket pockets. At least, I thought it was.

  Wilson was behind me. Deep potholes and fissures were scattered across the building site and made progress awkward. His breathing quickly became labored, and he cursed as he stumbled on the uneven surface.

  It took a couple of minutes to find the chain-link fence propped up against the side of the storage hut. Grass had grown up around it and entwined itself into the lower half of the roll. We pulled the grass away and knocked the fencing onto the ground. The roll was big, and although it was lighter than I’d expected, it was awkward to carry. It kept shifting and twisting, and the metal wire dug into my hands.

  The uneven ground made progress slow. Wilson kept getting distracted trying to watch the trees instead of navigating the obstacles in front of us.

  About halfway to the trucks, he stumbled and dropped the roll. He stood, flexing his fingers, and caught me frowning at him. “I guess you’re used to this sort of thing?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of, yes.”

  Wilson’s eyes flicked to the forest. “I used to be a software engineer,” he said as though that explained everything. It proba
bly did.

  I raised my end of the roll and my eyebrows expectantly.

  “Sorry,” he said and grabbed his end again.

  By the time we got back to the vehicles, Harwood’s truck had been filled with wood and the equipment from the storage hut. The second truck, the one I’d ridden in, held a pile of wood and the roll of plastic.

  Muscles helped us load the fencing onto the truck and then trotted away to retrieve his baseball bat.

  “Captain?” Novak said.

  Three zombies were moving quickly toward us, and I could see more shadows moving steadily through the trees.

  “Time’s up,” Harwood said.

  I climbed up onto the truck. Wilson moved to follow me. Santos tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the other vehicle.

  “Ah right. Sorry.” He hurried away, warily eying the approaching zombies.

  Ling and Lawson were already sitting in the back of Harwood’s truck. Bailey was sitting in mine, perched on top of a stack of wood. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, just sat there hunched over, her eyes locked fixedly on the truck bed. I stayed near the tailgate and managed to find a place to sit where I could see her.

  Novak had stopped firing, and he climbed into the cab.

  “Come on, idiot!” Santos said.

  Muscles raised a hand. “Just a sec, girl.”

  Another zombie had rounded the corner of the main building, twenty feet or so away from where Muscles was standing. He ran toward the creature, winding the baseball bat up as he ran.

  He reached the zombie, pulled the bat back, and planted his front foot, ready to swing. The ground gave way. He sank into the earth up to his knee. He screamed in pain and shock at the sudden loss of footing. Then his scream turned to fear as the zombie bore down on him.

  He brought the bat up and managed to hit the zombie in the face. The wire tore through rotting flesh. Black blood splashed across Muscles, but the blow was weak. The zombie pulled her head aside and lunged at him.

  Beside me, Santos was readying her rifle, but it was too late. The zombie bit into Muscles’s throat, tearing it apart and choking off his screams of agony.

  “Help him,” Wilson said.

  Santos shook her head and turned away, her face emotionless.

  The engine in Harwood’s truck roared to life. Santos climbed into the passenger side of ours. Novak started the engine. It coughed and spluttered to life, but as he blipped the throttle, the truck emitted a heavy cloud of black smoke from the exhaust, and the engine died again.

  Novak said something to Santos, and she raised her rifle. He tapped the steering wheel then turned the ignition again. There was the high-pitched whine of a starter motor struggling to do its job, and then the engine caught. The truck shuddered as Novak dipped the accelerator again, but this time, the engine kept running.

  Harwood’s truck pulled away, accelerating quickly along the road. There was a dull thump as it collided with a zombie and sent him spinning away. Novak gunned the engine, and we sped after Harwood.

  The truck was heavier now, less nimble, and it swayed and rocked as Novak weaved around the worst of the ruts. We hit a zombie of our own on the way out of the gate. I caught sight of his shattered face as he was knocked aside.

  Harwood’s truck stopped at the top of the hill. We pulled alongside. Ling said something to Harwood and pointed into the trees. Harwood leaned out of the cab, and a few seconds later Wilson reluctantly clambered down off the truck. He walked nervously toward the forest, the crowbar clutched in his hand. He kept glancing over his shoulder at the trucks as though he expected Harwood to drive away and leave him to the dead.

  Wilson hunted about in the trees for a couple of minutes, long enough for me to think that Harwood might well get bored and drive off. Or that one of the zombies would arrive and attack him.

  Then Wilson reappeared carrying a long brown duffel bag. The sides bulged with the outlines of gun barrels, and a dark stain ran down one side. I stared at the bag, convinced my scalpel case was inside. I had to believe fate had brought Ling back into my orbit so that I could recover my property and resume my work.

  Harwood retrieved the bag and put it in the cab without looking inside. Stephens barely waited for Wilson to clamber onto the truck before pulling away and sending him sprawling. Ling helped Wilson get seated. As Ling returned to his place atop the wood, he looked at me. Raw, unconcealed hatred flickered in his eyes for a moment then was gone.

  Novak dropped into position, tailing Harwood’s truck. Behind us, a new wave of zombies moved into Sunrise Pines.

  Chapter 40

  A Viper in the Nest

  The gate to Sanctuary swung open just as our trucks reached it. The men standing on the watchtowers gave Harwood a questioning look when they saw Ling and the other new arrivals, but he ignored them.

  Bailey seemed to relax more with every passing second. Her shoulders shifted into a less hunched position, and I thought I could see her eyes glistening.

  The vehicles slowed once we were inside the town, pulling off to the side of the street. As soon as Harwood’s truck stopped, Wilson leaped down. A woman a little older than him raised a hand, waving to him. He walked unsteadily over to her, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck.

  I climbed off the truck and moved to one side, where I could watch unobtrusively.

  Ling and Lawson had already gotten down from the truck and stood together nearby. They seemed relaxed, although they didn’t quite have the same look of relief that had characterized Bailey’s reaction.

  For her part, she joined them, standing a few feet away, together but apart. I saw her look at Ling, and a little of her nervousness returned. Something had changed. When I left the group, she’d been his second-in-command or the closest thing to it. Now Ling seemed to be favoring Lawson instead.

  Parker had evidently heard of our return, and she was walking down the street toward us. There was no sign of Melissa.

  Harwood called Novak over. He spoke quietly to him, and then Novak and Stephens walked away, disappearing behind one of the nearby houses before Parker reached the trucks.

  “Welcome back,” Parker said. She was talking to Harwood, but her eyes were on Ling, her face guardedly welcoming.

  “This is David Ling, Nancy Bailey, and Tyler Lawson,” Harwood said. “We met them at the construction site, and they’d like to join the group.”

  Ling stepped forward and offered his hand.

  Parker smiled and shook it. “My name is Allison Parker, and I’m the mayor of this community.”

  I was surprised at that. I hadn’t heard Parker refer to herself as the mayor before.

  “It is an honor to meet you,” Ling said.

  Parker looked at Bailey and smiled. “Please, make yourself at home. There’s plenty of room, and we could use all the help we can get.”

  “We are very grateful for your hospitality,” Ling said, “and we are eager to contribute in any way we can.”

  His voice was warm, and he sounded sincere—to my ears, at least. Parker seemed to agree. Her guarded look had gone, replaced by the same inviting manner she’d had when I first met her.

  “I’m going to put them up on the east side of the town,” Harwood said. “Ling and Lawson are hunters, so they’ll make a welcome addition to the patrols.”

  Parker hesitated, just a fraction, then said, “Good, good.” She looked around. She caught sight of me and gave a little nod.

  “Did everyone make it back?”

  “No, we lost Johnson.”

  Parker’s shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she crossed herself and took a deep breath. “Was it worth it?”

  “Yes, the construction site has a lot of useful material. We’ll go back for more in a few days, but we can start strengthening the defenses right away.”

  “Some of the houses need repairs, too. We should start on those.”

  Harwood didn’t respond.
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  “Was there any food?” Parker said.

  “No.”

  “That’s too bad.” Parker straightened up and smiled at Ling and the others. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in.”

  Ling gave a slight bow. “Thank you, once again, Mayor Parker.”

  She turned away and walked toward the town center.

  “Fresh meat?”

  I jumped slightly, and Melissa let out a soft giggle.

  “Sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I gave her a slight smile but didn’t take my eyes off Ling. Harwood was talking to him, sweeping his arm around as he gave him the lay of the land.

  “So? Who are they?”

  The urge to tell Melissa the truth, that I knew Ling and that he was the one that had tried to kill me, was almost overwhelming. I’d be an idiot to open up like that, but the words formed on my lips, bubbling up before I could stop them.

  “His name’s Ling. He’s dangerous.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He—” I cut myself off before I could say any more.

  Melissa placed a hand on my shoulder. “Marcus, what is it?”

  There was concern in her voice, but I shook my head. “Nothing, it’s just a feeling. We met them at the construction site. They asked to come to Sanctuary. Harwood agreed.”

  “No… there’s more to it than that.”

  I ignored her.

  “Marcus.” Her voice was tinged with frustration or maybe even anger. I realized that at some point she’d removed her hand from my shoulder.

  I finally turned to look at her and shook my head. “It’s nothing, just a feeling.”

  She raised her eyebrows and gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press the issue.

  “How was the salvage run?”

  “Dangerous.”

  There was a thump as two men dropped a pile of wood over the side of one of the trucks. Harwood was directing a small group of people as they unloaded the building materials. The roll of plastic was already lying beside the gate, and now they were unloading the wood. A tall, lanky man in brown overalls stood beside the quickly growing pile, nodding appreciatively.