Outcasts
Date: 2014-03-28 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; zombie apocalypse
Description: When the USS McClusky, a US Naval frigate out of San Diego, ran aground, it was only the beginning for Machinist Mate Jackson Creed and Marine Sergeant Joel “Cruze” Kelly. The unlikely duo battled for survival as they established a base of operations and fought to retain their “fortress." Now they have been driven out of the city by a massive horde of the undead. On the road with new companions, including mercenaries with murky pasts, the band of survivors face new challenges at every turn. Jackson and Creed’s journey will take them across a nightmare landscape where the living may be just as

Timothy W. Long’s

PRAISE FOR THE WORKS OF

TIMOTHY W. LONG

“If this is how the world ends, sign me up!”--Jonathan Maberry, New York Times Best Selling author of Patient Zero

“One of the best zombie novels of the year.”-- Paul “Goat” Allen, Barnes and Noble

“Long, a prolific horror author writes with graphic glee - repulsive details and way off-color jokes abound.”-- Tacoma News Tribune

Find Tim online:

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Also by Timothy W. Long

Beyond the Barriers (Permuted Press)

Among the Living (Permuted Press)

Among the Dead (Permuted Press)

At the Behest of the Dead

The Zombie Wilson Diaries

The Apocalypse and Satan’s Glory Hole

Z-Risen: Outbreak – A Zombie Serial

“Z-RISEN: OUTCASTS” By Timothy W. Long

Copyright 2014. Timothy W. Long

All Rights Reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, or historical events, is purely fucking coincidental.

Credits:

Edited by T Fitzgerald Poist

Cover art: J.M. Martin | nineworldsmedia.com

Z-Risen: Outcasts

Book 2

By

Timothy W. Long

In the event this log is found with my corpse, I’m Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and it’s been a week since we arrived back in San Diego following the event. With me is Marine Sergeant Joel “Cruze” Kelly.

We were both stationed on the USS McClusky, an Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigate out of San Diego. Our ship was overrun by the dead and we barely escaped with our lives. Now we live in the middle of Undead Central.

Entry #10 – Go Time

08:35 AM Approximate

Location: Somewhere outside of San Diego – Undead-Central

We came upon the worst wreck yet about an hour after sunrise. Before that it was stop and go – mainly stop – as we hit accident after accident. No one bothered to stick around and guard his or her car.

Since hauling ass out of San Diego and taking a full day to make twenty miles, we’d pretty much had it with the road, the cramped military vehicle, and each other.

The driver hit the roadside curb so hard we bounced and came down cursing. The guy spun the wheel to the left and then kept on going until the road cleared up enough for the HUMVEE to crawl back onto.

Joel and I rode up top with a guy named Greg Bailey. He sat behind the big .50 caliber machine gun and chewed on a huge hunk of tobacco. Every couple of minutes he’d spit over the side and Joel or I would move so we didn’t get hit. After a half-day of this, I was ready to rip the load of chew out of his mouth and stuff it up his ass.

The main thing that saved him was the fact that he’d pulled our asses out of the shit on the way out of the naval hospital earlier in the day. Plus he was a hell of a friendly guy from Dallas, Texas, and had a good-natured way of looking at the world.

“World’s gone to hell. I get it. Thing is, we’re still alive and know where there’s a big ol’ base full of big ol’ men and women with big ol’ guns. We make it there and we’re in the green, boys. We call that ‘go time’.”

I tried to grin back but every inch of my body was a mess of bruises and sore muscles. All I wanted to do was find a hole in the ground and sleep for a week. Dodging tobacco-bullets wasn’t helping.

Shitty aiming aside, Bailey was a nice enough guy. Too bad he didn’t make it.

We stopped to stretch our legs and Roz told me she’d sit up top for while so I could get some rest inside. I’d argue but didn’t have the energy. She wanted to hang with Joel, I got it. We’d had our little bit of touchy feely when we thought we were about to join the dead; she seemed to have forgotten all about that.

I hunched over and crammed myself into the back, but fought a smile when Sails settled in next to me. Christy wanted to look outside while we picked our way over the terrain.

“You okay, dude?” I asked her.

“I’m fine. I miss Craig, is all. I wish we could go back and look for him. That’s stupid, right?”

“Sorry, dude. I know how you feel. I hate what happened, but we can’t go back.”

“Stop calling me dude,” she said and almost cracked a smile.

“You got it.” I waited two seconds. “Dude.”

The other guys in the transport were Donny and Markus.

Markus had black hair shaved close to his head and wore a bunch of scars on his face. One creased his forehead and then zipped across his nose. He’d been driving when we made our escape and didn’t talk much.

Donny was ill-tempered. Even though he smiled a lot, I didn’t trust him one bit. He was far too content to shoot Z’s. I hated it. I hated popping these things in the head or bashing in brains. He did it with that easy smile.

“You guys Guard?”

“Not really,” Markus said.

“What? Army?”

Sails was particularly quiet when the subject of enlisted men and women came up. She shifted in her seat and then stared out the window without saying a word.

“Nope. Isn’t it enough that we have a nice thick roof, protection, and food?” Donny responded, still smiling.

That was all I got out of them.

There wasn’t a lot of talk in the HUMVEE. After a while, you get so damn tired you don’t want to be bothered with shit like chatting about the weather or how you killed the last Z. You want to just sit back and try to think about better times.

I’d been doing that for the last fifteen minutes. Then I realized how quiet it was inside the vehicle. Although I was pressed against the not-unpleasant shape of Anna Sails, doing anything about it was the last thing on my mind. I was fond of my balls and had no doubt she’d shoot them off if I even attempted to drape an arm over her shoulder.

My half-musings didn’t last. All I had to do was glance outside to be reminded that we may have escaped with our lives, but how long could we last? How long until we became permanent fixtures in Undead Central?

Bodies everywhere, some of them moving. Cast out luggage, clothes, shit that used to mean the world to some little kid. Now it was all fodder for the zombie fucking apocalypse.

We passed a pile of the dead that smoldered. A few of them were still twitching as the smoke lazed into the morning air. We stopped for a bio break near an overturned school bus. I stretched my legs and then limped off to relieve my aching bladder.

Joel and I stayed together, one keeping watch while the other took care of business. I stared at the front of the shattered bus and nearly pissed all over my hand when the driver sat up and reached for me. Other figures moved around in the murky interior, so I shook it, zipped, and dragged Joel to a nice Volkswagen Bug that had somehow survived the seventies and the apocalypse. The doors were open and nothing moved inside. While Joel took a leak, I went through the glove box and kept an eye on the road.

Nothing approached us and I came up with a couple of packs of Reese’s cups that were a melted mess. Joel and I squeezed out candy that looked like turds and licked the wrappers clean.

Back in the HUMVEE, it was business as usual. We drove off the road, got back on it, cut across creeks, got out and pushed cars out of the way, and generally did whatever we could to get as far from San Diego as possible.

We drove a few miles from the freeway and found a gas station. It had been looted. A small city spread out behind it on the flat landscape; I didn’t see anything moving.

Joel and Donny got out and then got real creative with the hatch over the diesel gas tank. They used a military-issue big ass crowbar to bust it open. Roz returned from the side of the building with a hose.

“I got this.” Bailey hopped down from his station.

“You should stay on the gun,” Joel said.

“We ran out of rounds back at the hospital. Blew through the last fifty when you boys got on board.”

“You’ve been manning an empty gun?”

“Habit,” Bailey said and turned his head to spit.

He dug around in the back of the transport and came up with a hand pump.

“That thing gonna work?” I asked.

“Damn straight. I used to work at a Chevron back in the halcyon days of my youth. I’ve done worse to get gas out of a hole in the ground.”

I didn’t ask what “worse” meant.

We set up a perimeter, then watched the road and each other’s backs. Bailey and Roz managed to monkey a couple of hoses together and pump diesel into the HUMVEE. It was slow going; as the minutes ticked by I got more and more nervous. I felt like we had a giant fucking bull’s-eye painted on our location.

“We got this,” Bailey said after I came over to check on him for the third time.

I nodded and walked toward the perimeter.

That’s when they came out of the woodwork.

I don’t know if it was us; we were speaking in low voices. The sound of the pump or the clang when we popped the cover and dragged it off? Hell, it might have just been bad luck.

“Zulu’s at three o’clock!” Donny yelled and went down to one knee.

The first shot was shocking in the quiet morning. I drew but didn’t have a clean look until I moved around the backside of the HUMVEE.

“Everyone back in, now!”

“Almost got her; buy me a minute,” Bailey said and pumped like a madman.

Joel fell back shooting as Markus closed in on their position to set up a screen. A hail of bullets met the Z’s but there were many hands and hungry mouths.

The snarling mass didn’t have a shuffler behind them, but what was back there was almost as bad. Fresh dead. They poured in on our position. I tried to get a count but gave up at eighteen or nineteen.

If we had a wall or roof or a fucking piece of artillery, we might have been able to drop most of them but there were just too many and more were coming.

I fired three rounds at a staggering guy dressed in a pretty nice set of PJ’s. Not your dollar-store variety – these looked fresh and pressed. Too bad the asshole wearing them was missing most of his throat and shoulder. One round went and one caught him in the chest. He was blown back but that made my third shot miss. I don’t know how action heroes make killing shots in movies. When you got a bunch of fuckers bearing down on your position, you might as well be trying to shoot a bulls-eye off a jumper at a goat rodeo.

“Up, Bailey! Let’s get motivated!” I yelled as I ran back and grabbed him by the shoulder.

He looked up, pumped a few more times, and then yanked the hose, still drooling diesel, out of the HUMVEE.

Sails was up on the side of the transport. She had one hand on the door and her gun in the other. The .357 banged slowly; she was careful to clear her field of fire, aim, and then blow a Z into the mass.

The trickle had expanded and now thirty or forty swarmed. They were on us before we were loaded. Joel scrambled up the side of the vehicle. I joined him, shimmying up the back until I found my grip on the edge of the gun turret. The HUMVEE roared to life as doors slammed shut. Sails kept her cool and kept blasting.

Joel sat up and covered Bailey while the man tossed the pump aside and jumped to his feet. The Texan rocked forward and grabbed onto the back of the HUMVEE. He almost got his foot onto the metal bumper but slipped and slammed his knee into the hard exterior.

“Son of a mother fucker!” he screamed.

“Wait! Bailey’s out there!” I yelled, but the vehicle had already lurched into motion.

“Not good!” Joel shouted.

I rolled to the side and prepared to jump off the truck, even though I knew it would probably be a death warrant. Joel Kelly grabbed my shoulder and yanked hard to get my attention.

“Lemme go, Joel!” I tried to bat his hand aside.

“Look, it’s too late, man. I know, it’s Bailey – but it’s too late. You go down there and you aren’t coming back.”

Sails shot a female crawler in the shoulder, adjusted, then blew her rotting head back. A pair of festering males were right behind the woman. Sails shot one; the other fell onto Bailey.

Bailey got his forearm up to stop the zombie’s descending mouth and managed to hold it back, but another of the crawlers attacked.

Bailey screamed as the Z sank its teeth into his arm and ripped.

Sails’s gun rang out again.

Bailey slumped forward a moment after a hole appeared just above his nose.

I pounded the top of the HUMVEE in frustration.

###

21:45 approximate

Location: Somewhere south of Los Angeles, Undead Central

Supplies:

- Food: A lot, but the mystery men in our new outfit are keeping it under guard

- Weapons: Plenty to go around

- Attitude: Not a happy squid tonight

We stopped for the night a few miles off the main road. We rolled over hard, desert-like terrain. The driver found a little gulley off the beaten path and backed up so the ass of the HUMVEE sat over the little depression in the ground. We piled out and set up camp. I volunteered to take first watch, but Joel Kelly took one look at me and told me to sleep.

I ate a cold meal from an MRE while Sails and I sat in silence. She picked some chicken crap and I took some beef brisket that tasted like leather dipped in barbeque sauce. We exchanged our desserts. She had spice cake and I had oatmeal cookies. After we were done, I told her it was a great first date, then rolled up in a green blanket that smelled like fuel and promptly passed the fuck out.

###

04:15 approximate

Location: a big hole in the ground, Undead Central

Donny woke me for watch. I rolled over and told him if he touched me again I’d rip his head off and shit down his neck. Sails punched me in the side and told me to get up and stop bitching.

I’m really starting to like this girl.

I patrolled the perimeter but it was about as lively as a desert could be. Little creatures ran around in the dark and did a good job of scaring the crap out of me. Donny handed me a pair of NVG’s and showed me where the power switch was located. I adjusted them for my head and took in a world of green hues. The restricted view they afforded was only a little bit better than walking around with a flashlight. At least this way I wasn’t calling out to every Z within a five-mile radius.

I stared at a rock for a while and contemplated whether these godless undead fucks could even see light. Their eyes were milky white, like the irises had been covered in full size cataracts. How in the world did they sense us, unless it was just noise?

I almost fell on my face and realized I’d completely zoned out.

I shook my head and went back to pacing.

###

05:15 approximate

Location: a big hole in the ground, Undead Central

An hour later the others rose.

The sun , like me, was in a piss-poor mood, and hung out behind a couple of clouds. I thought for sure we were bound for rain but it hadn’t quite cracked the sky yet. We pulled out and went back to picking our way across what little road we could find.

Joel told me to squeeze in the back. Roz took to the gun turret and he stayed on top of the vehicle to keep watch. I didn’t ask if he was keeping an eye on the enemy or on her.

Christy clung to my side; Sails sat in silence next to Christy. I tried to talk, but she told me to shut the hell up so she didn’t have to think.

An hour later we came across a small town that wasn’t crawling with the dead.

The town of Clairemont was about thirty miles from San Diego and probably a hell of a nice place before the world died.

Worried about supplies, we hit a couple of diners but found them picked over. The second shop, Heart Stop Café, had been cleaned out with the exception of a few boxes of powdered cocoa. A couple of people missing the back of their heads were decomposing on the floor. Shells lay all over the floor along with chunks of glass and broken mugs and dishes. The two had obviously put up a fight.

Whoever had shot up the shop was long gone, but I kept looking over my shoulder. My neck crawled like it was covered in spiders. I felt like someone had a gun trained on me and they were going to open fire at any moment.

Back on the road, we ate cold MRE’s again and talked about our dwindling supplies. Frankly, I was surprised the two others hadn’t kicked our asses out of the transport and made for the base alone.

Maybe they were thankful to have extra eyes and guns. Maybe they had their eyes and dicks set on Roz and Sails. I didn’t envy them if they tried anything. Sails was likely to gut one while putting her .357 in the other’s mouth and blowing the back of his head off.

We chatted briefly about how long it would take to reach the base in LA. I was worried that, by the time we arrived, it would be game over – the base would be a smoking ruin like the one we’d left behind.

“It’s a tough spot they got set up. The Marines, Navy, and Bright Star brought in a lot of hardware to build the walls. Got moats and everything. It’ll be there.” Markus sounded sure.

“Speaking of bases, we should set up a base for a day and then do some scouting and build up our supplies. We can move out again in the morning,” Joel said.

“Damn fine idea,” Markus said from the front seat.

“Agreed, boss.” Donny smiled over his shoulder.

If he got touchy feely with anyone, I was going to put my foot in his mouth.

###

We pulled across someone’s lawn after bouncing over a couple of roads clogged with cars. The town sported a shitload of cookie-cutter houses and strip malls. We passed a Mexican restaurant that had been burned to the ground. Across the street, a Krispy Kreme was also a smoking ruin. The bank next to it had all of its windows smashed in.

Night had arrived and talk of sleeping outside was quickly shot down. None of us wanted to be exposed, so we picked this place out of a half dozen we passed.

Fortress, Mark II was a dilapidated hotel off Interstate 5. It had been a piece of shit before the world went to hell. The (former) Hotel Palomino had two floors and a metal gate we’d managed to wedge shut. On the top floor we’d found adjoining rooms and made our nest for the last few days but it was temporary.

“Why are we locking ourselves on the second floor? We should set up camp on the first floor so we don’t get bottled up,” Donny opined.

“Back the HUMVEE right under the railing.” Joel pointed at the second floor. “That’s our escape route. See those metal gates at the end of the hallway? That’ll buy us a lot of time if a horde locates us. Slow, but we can get in the transport through the gunner’s portal.”

“It’s a solid plan,” Markus said.

He spun the transport around while we pushed an electric hybrid out of the way.

The five of us – Joel, Roz, Christy, Anna Sails, and me – stuck together in the larger room while Markus and Donny took the room with two twin beds.

There were other empty rooms, but not a single one had less than one body. We got lucky with our set. There was a Z with an arrow through its head blocking the door, but we hauled his corpse across the landing and tossed it near a dumpster overflowing with trash.

I guess Joel was feeling cocky. He pressed Markus and Donny for info about their outfit, but they were tightlipped. When Joel pressed harder we got an earful.

“You guys want to sit out the end of the world right here or do you want to stick with us and our armored vehicle?” Markus said. His scars gave him a sneer but I had a feeling he would wear the look, regardless.

Half an hour later we took stock of our gear and I did a proper ammo and weapon count. My .45 was down to one backup mag and a couple of spare rounds. One thing I’d kept handy was my pipe wrench. Damn thing had been worth its weight in gold.

Joel laid out a couple of magazines. He slipped over the side of the balcony and came back a few minutes later with nondescript boxes of fresh ammo. Joel tossed me one and gave one to Sails.

Roz dug out a handful of rounds from my box and filled her 1911 .45. She checked the action and then asked Joel for a quick lesson on how to strip and clean it. Jesus Christ. The way she said strip and clean made Joel’s eyes go wide.

Later we joined the mystery men in their room and took stock of our other food supplies. Donny carried up a satchel full of Meals Ready to Eat and we used water from the toilet to fire up the little chemical pouches. I waited a full two minutes, saliva filling my mouth, before ripping open the brown packet. I devoured it by squeezing the contents from the pocket into my mouth while it was steaming hot.

Joel ate his cold with a plastic spork.

Show off.

Donny and Markus studied a map while they ate from the various pouches.

“We’re here and Bravo is here.” Markus pointed out two big red splotches.

“Bravo?” I asked.

“Home base, for now. That’s where we’re headed.” Markus said.

“Safer than the place we just left?”

“Better be. That was a cluster fuck, man. We knew that horde was on the move, but they got there a lot faster than we’d anticipated.”

“Might have been the noise. I heard a chopper crashed the night before,” Donny said.

I coughed and didn’t say a word. Anna Sails kept her poker face while Joel Kelly’s eyes tightened.

Donny had this reedy voice that was like nails on a fucking chalkboard. He also had pinched in features and a long nose. He wore digital cammo that bore no insignia and he carried a huge bowie knife strapped to his side. He’d set his Mossberg pump action shotgun across the map while we chatted. I studied it with interest.

“Can I check out your piece?”

“Yeah. Just don’t blow your head off,” Donny handed me the gun.

“Beautiful.” I said.

“That’s a special order right there,” Donny went on. “It’s a Mossberg 500 with a tactical upgrade. Holds five plus one in the chamber. It’s got a sweet grip, feel it. Gun wasn’t mine. It belonged to that Bailey guy.”

“You say Bailey like you didn’t know him.”

“I didn’t. He was guard and that was his personal weapon. He was a prepper I guess.”

I lifted the gun and put it to my shoulder. The front rail was fitted with a sloped grip. Bailey had outfitted the shotgun with a rail near the chamber and it contained six rounds. The rear rail held five more.

For a split second I had the desire to turn the gun on him and blow his fucking head off. Then I’d have to kill Markus because he’d probably be pissed about me shooting his buddy. The thought left pretty quickly. These two might have questionable agendas, but they’d saved our asses.

The shotgun felt good in my hand and probably packed enough load to disintegrate a Z at close range.

“I gotta get me one of these.”

“Look at that. Creed’s got a crush,” Kelly said.

“Love at first sight, I’d say,” Anna added.

“Oh, haha. Sight. I get it. You two should write a comedy routine and go on the road.”

I stared back until they both looked away, but Sails wore a little smirk.

“We’ll crash here for the night and then scout in the morning. We may get lucky and find enough supplies to get us through a few days. Then we move out around noon.” Markus said.

“We might stay here for a while longer,” Joel said.

That was news to me. I liked the sound of us going somewhere safe. I liked the thought of having a bed and water. Food was great but I was so thirsty I was ready to start making some kind of piss filter.

“Suit yourself,” Donny said and looked at Markus. The big guy shrugged his shoulders and went back to chewing on a straw that poked out of his camel pack water system. It was dry as a bone, but I didn’t blame him for the wishful thinking.

“We haven’t discussed staying anywhere. I’m with you guys,” I said, but wondered if I meant it.

Joel, Roz, and Anna looked at me.

“Or I guess we’ll talk about it.”

“Do what you gotta do. All I know is we’re headed toward safety. The base has a real command and control structure, and they’re taking orders from Washington. Someone over there is still calling the shots.” He trailed off.

That was the first we’d heard about any kind of authority existing. Didn’t really matter. Everything was so fucked it wasn’t like they were looking for me, Joel, or countless other enlisted.

“Is the President still alive?” I asked.

“Don’t know. I just know that we got orders. They come into the vehicle from time to time but the system is on some kind of repeat, so we’re hearing what a lot of others are hearing. They keep rattling off safe havens in different parts of the country.”

“So…military.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Donny said.

“Just tell us what the fuck is going on. Come on, man, be straight with us,” Joel said.

Markus sighed and went to sit on the side of a bed.

“Your call,” Donny said.

“Fine, man. We’re with a group of peacekeepers called Bright Star. We were in Iraq and then we went into Afghanistan. We take care of security when the U.S. pulls out.”

“So, you’re like Blackwater.” I thought out loud.

“Not quite. We’re smaller and better organized. Right, Sails?”

“I only did one tour, man. Lee asked me to join his last mission because I was having issues,” Sails said.

She took a seat at the table and toyed with the rest of the pouches in her MRE. Sails tossed me her pepperoni sticks so I gave her my crackers and fake cheese spread.

“Lee? What do you know about Lee?” I couldn’t help it. My face flushed at the mention of his name.

“Lee’s in charge for now. He went ahead to LA to help secure the base. I heard that he’s got family there. Heard he had them flown all the way across the country,” Donny said.

“Lee’s an asshole. He tossed my friend Craig, just a kid, out of our helicopter.”

“He was infected, Creed, you big dummy. Get it through your head. I saw the test results myself and I know what they meant. That kid could have turned at any moment. Any second. Then we could have had a Z right there in the helicopter. One bite and we were all going to be fighting for our lives,” Sails said.

I couldn’t believe she was defending Lee.

“So what, you all got a nice little brotherhood thing going on here? Got your secret name and decoder rings? Tell me how this makes the world better,” Joel Kelly demanded. He gripped the edge of the table so hard I thought it was going to snap.

“Secure that shit, Marine,” Sails said.

Markus and Donny nodded. Was that it? Did Sails outrank these two yahoos?

“Look, man,” Markus said. “The military is fragmented and it’s got no command structure. No way to gather forces in one place and enact some kind of plan to deal with this threat. Two hundred years and we’ve never had an occupying force on American soil. That changed a few weeks ago when someone attacked us.”

“Wait. This was an attack?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Something hit multiple locations. Some virus, and I swear that’s all we know.”

“Fuck me.” Joel Kelly said before I could.

“We were already here and preparing, ready to deploy, when the main bases were hit. The military took devastating losses. Did you guys see what happened at Coronado?”

“We were there.” I said.

Markus expelled a breath.

“Then you know first hand what happened. Bright Star is new, small. We were under the radar so now we’re doing our best to cope. That’s why you should stick with us if you want to survive and fight back. Fucking do what we tell you for a few more days.”

“That’s terrific.” I choked back a snarl. “Sounds like you guys have all the answers. Don’t need us, right?”

“We need everyone.” Sails put her hand on my arm.

She didn’t wear that usual frown and looked like she meant it. I resisted the urge to yank my arm away.

“And only my unique skills at bashing in Z heads can help save the world, right?”

“You’d be surprised what one man can accomplish with the right motivation,” Sails said.

Shit. This was not the way I wanted the conversation to go. I wanted to stay mad at these people for killing Craig, but there was that little part of my brain that kept telling me that there was truth to what they’d told us—that Craig had been one of them. Infected.

I got sick of thinking about it and changed the subject.

“We need water,” I said.

“Should be an ice maker on the floor. If it’s still got water, we can use these.” Donny produced some filtration tabs in little brown packs.

Joel smiled and snapped up a couple.

“Come on, Creed. Lets scout.”

“Fuckin A. I hate it when you say those words.”

“The fuck do you want, squid? A love poem?”

“Yeah. Serenade me.”

“You guys are both idiots,” Sails said.

“You’d be surprised what two idiots can do with the right motivation,” I replied.

Sails actually smiled. Well, score one for the good guys.

“Great. Now we’re all friends again. Hey Sails, if you get bored you can always bunk in with us,” Markus said. “Right guys? There’s enough of the women to go around.”

Sails moved like a whip. Her hand shot to her side and in the blink of an eye she came up with her Smith and Wesson M&P R8. Ten and a half inches of dark steel met Markus stare.

“Say ‘the women’ one more time.” She spoke through gritted teeth, and then she did that cool thing they do in the movies where she cocked the trigger. Silence fell in the room while we waited to see if Markus would lose his head.

“Just fucking around, Sails.” He gulped. “You used to have a better sense of humor.”

“You used to not be an asshole,” she replied.

Sails arm still hadn’t trembled. She holstered the gun, shot everyone in the room a flat look, then went to the adjoining room and shut the door.

“Woman is out of her mind,” Donny said. “She used to be more fun.”

“Sails had a fun side? What the hell happened?” I asked.

“She was on her way back when she heard about the outbreak. Her husband ran off a year ago but her kids were at her mother’s house. It was right in the middle of the first horde that razed San Diego. She was on her way to the house when it was overrun. She got there just in time to see the worst of it.”

“Shit,” I said.

Joel echoed me.

“What did she do in Bright Star? She seems like she’s used to being in command,” I said.

“She was, in a fashion.” Markus took the gun from me and put it back on the table but didn’t bother to elaborate.

“She’s a badass,” I said.

“She’s got a sweet ass,” Donny said.

I thought about hitting him hard enough to make him talk stupid for the next week.

“Let’s go, Creed. I’m thirsty.” Joel interrupted my little fantasy.

###

10:15 AM Approximate

Location: Clairemont, Undeadville USA

Joel and I did a perimeter sweep and verified that any Z’s hiding out in the other hotel rooms were dealt with.

We kept it quiet by using close-in weapons. We cracked open a door three rooms down from ours. She was facing a wall and didn’t even move until we stepped inside. That was enough to creep me out. She spun, looked at us with those milk white eyes, and then stumbled toward me. Joel stuck his big Marine knife into the woman’s head and she went down without a sound. The woman’s suitcases had been emptied all over the room. The refrigerator was a bust. We didn’t stay to investigate further because the smell wasn’t worth it.

The next room held a man dressed in rags. From what we could tell, he’d been stuck in there from the very beginning. He had a couple of bullet wounds to his chest, and in the room we found a single snub-nosed .38 and a pair of shells. I pocketed the gun and we moved on after a quick inspection turned up nothing but more gore. The poor son of a bitch had tried, as best we could tell, to kill himself. He had one bite mark on his neck. He’d chewed his fingers to the second knuckle and then started on his arm.

I put him out of his misery by driving the pipe wrench under his jaw. His mouth shattered, and when he fell back I moved in and crushed his skull like it was a thick egg.

When Joel and I entered room 223B, we found what had probably been a husband and wife wrapped in a fatal embrace. She had eight inches of steel buried in the back of her skull.

I stared at them and then turned to inspect the room.

That was a mistake.

The guy wasn’t dead. He lurched to his feet and nearly tackled me. Joel wove in for a slice, but I grabbed the Z just as his nasty mouth was inches from my shoulder and tried to toss him away.

He got ahold of my shirt and wouldn’t let go.

His face darted in again and I fought my gag reflex. Of all the rotted stinking things I’d smelled over the past few weeks, this was the worst. His breath was a horror. His teeth were a horror, and his nose was a crushed horror that had dried blood crusted all over his mouth and jaw.

I hit him in the temple, but the blow was short and it barely rocked him. He fell backward, almost taking me with him.

“Out of the way, Creed!” Joel cried.

“Think I’m not trying?”

The biter dove in again, and this time I hit him across the face. His jaw snapped shut, but he managed to fall back against the bed and pull me with him.

I rolled to the side but he stuck with me. Something closed on the back of my shirt and I think I screamed like a little girl.

I whipped my elbow back and cracked him across the shoulder. He fell away and I was free. Rolling to the other side of the bed, I let Joel do his thing.

Kelly moved in and stuck the guy in the throat with his knife. He ripped the blade back so forcefully that the Z’s head nearly came off. The guy’s second life ran out as he fell off the bed and onto his wife’s half eaten corpse.

I sat up and gasped for breath. Nothing like fighting for your life when you’re already exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and pissed off.

“Goddamn,” was all I could get out.

Joel wiped his blade on the bedspread and then sheathed it.

“That’s why I never got married.” Joel stared at the dead couple.

At least the pair were in something resembling a loving embrace.

###

Panting and shaking, I sat for a minute and caught my breath. Joel looked me over and pronounced me still alive. I wobbled to my feet and checked all my extremities. No bite. Christ. That was not how I wanted this scouting mission to begin.

I moved to the refrigerator and opened it to find green and rotted store-bought sandwiches still wrapped in plastic. The prize turned out to be a half empty bottle of schnapps. I’d never in my life thought about tasting the stuff, but after almost making a one-way trip to Undead Central, it looked pretty inviting.

Joel poked through their luggage and came up with an open bag of chips. He took one out, sniffed it, then ate it. He grinned and handed me the bag after digging out a small handful.

“Yeah? Look what I found.”

I took the top off the schnapps, took a tentative sniff, and then decided it probably wouldn’t kill me. I’d had hooch on the ship that could strip the side off a destroyer; this shit was like lemonade by comparison.

“Early for drinking?”

“I’m a sailor,” I said and tossed back another shot.

The chips were spicy and that suited me fine. Thoughts of bringing some back for the rest of the crew evaporated as we handed the bag back and forth.

The room had a pair of prints on one wall depicting the coast. Clothes had been left in the closet but nothing my size. I found a bright red dress that would probably look great on Sails. Instead, I held it up for Joel.

“You could rock this.”

Joel snorted.

Joel pawed through the luggage and found a brown bag. He opened it up, looked inside, and then dropped it.

I took a long pull while Joel wiped his hands on his tactical armor.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked.

“It’s for you.”

I took another shot and then handed the bottle to Joel. He eyed it, smelled it, and then took an equally long pull. He lowered the bottle with a sputter.

I pushed the bag around with my foot until something slid out.

“Oh my fucking God.” I laughed.

It was a huge black dildo.

“I thought you Navy pukes were into that kind of thing.”

“Nah, man. I like a Marine penis. Small, but stands at attention with a stiff breeze.”

“That is the gayest thing you’ve ever said, Creed.”

Joel handed the bottle back, and I took another shot because it was going fast. It felt good. One more, and then Joel finished the bottle.

I picked up the brown bag and moved to the couple on the floor. The dead guy’s mouth was stuck open, so I slid the rubber penis in between his teeth.

“Hey Joel, I think I know why these two weren’t getting along.”

“Dude. That is just fucking morbid.” Joel sat down on the side of the bed and laughed until he nearly fell off.

###

The next room had a similar décor and was covered in enough blood to make Hannibal Lector himself swing by to congratulate the former occupants.

Joel had jimmied the door with his knife and let it swing open. The room was dark and smelled rancid. The sound was what got to me. I wanted to turn and puke, then gouge out my eyeballs. A pair of Z’s had been munching on the inhabitants for God knew how long. They tottered toward us on shaking legs, but we did them the courtesy of putting them down.

The room was a bust and so were the two after.

After making our way to the icemakers, we found that one was full of water. The other had blood on the side; we didn’t bother opening it.

The next few rooms turned up a few items. A couple of bags of peanuts slightly larger than the samples they pass out on airplanes. A handful of tootsie rolls in some guy’s fanny pack. He also had a wad of bills, though, so Joel and I split them up. Probably useless, but five hundred dollars was still five hundred dollars.

The last room was empty of inhabitants. A set of suitcases had been stacked in the closet. I worked on one while Joel pried the lock of a smaller bag.

It was just clothes and toiletries. I took out an electric shaver and tested the battery. It ran at full speed so I spent a minute buzzing the fuzz off my face in a darkened mirror.

Joel found an unopened tube of strawberry lip balm. I didn’t even ask when he slipped it into his pocket. There was a two-liter bottle of soda that had been opened and then resealed. I unscrewed the top and was met with the sound of released CO2. I sniffed and then decided that if the Z virus was living in cola, we were all doomed.

In a desk drawer I found a bag of corn chips and added it to our haul.

Joel returned from the bathroom with a pair of cups still wrapped in plastic. We toasted each other and then drained our portion in a couple of gulps. It was flat, warm, and fucking delicious.

After forty-five minutes of breaking into rooms we had pitifully little to show for it:

- A couple of protein bars
- A liter of generic soda
- 3 small bags of roasted peanuts
- An unopened bag of corn chips

- 15 tootsie rolls (I stashed a few in my pocket)

We returned with four pitchers of what I was sure was rancid water, but after the purifying tabs did their work I was the first to down half a container. After we’d drunk our fill, we went out to fetch more. I didn’t even complain about the chemical taste.

Markus asked if we’d found anything else that might be useful.

“Nah,” Joel said.

“We found an unhappily married couple but they weren’t very chatty,” I said.

“Probably due to the dick in the guy’s mouth,” Joel said.

After that it was my turn to burst into laughter.

“Glad you guys had fun. Now we got a serious issue. One of the boxes of MRE’s turned out to be filled with ammo. That’s great in the long run, but it means we’re down to four full meals and there are a lot of mouths. We can probably make it last the day. So what’s the plan?”

“I’ll take Joel and the big squid here on a scouting run tomorrow. Did you get coms working?” Sails asked.

“I think so,” Markus said and held up a large black band.

“That’s good. Real good,” Joel said.

“We’ll be able to stay in contact. I’ll take up station on the roof and provide over watch with an M14. It’s a solid weapon with a range of five hundred yards. One bummer? I got limited ammo so don’t expect me to pick off twenty fucking ZULU’s, got it?”

“How many rounds?” Joel asked.

“About thirty five.  You guys get into the shit too deep and you haul ass back here, got it? Roz, Christie, and Donny here will be backup.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Joel nodded.

###

21:15 hours Approximate

Location: Clairemont, Undeadville USA

It’s late and I can barely keep my eyes open. Tomorrow we are going to expand our area of operations and hopefully come back with a bonanza of food for the next few days. That’s if we don’t join the crawlers first.

And so the fuckening continues.

Entry #11 – Game Face

12:45 hours approximate

Location: Just outside of Los Angeles – Undead-Central

Supplies:

- 3 MRE’s

- 1 box of chips and candy

- 1 half-gallon of water requiring purifying tablets

The following day would have an early reveille and I was already exhausted. I pretty much dragged my ass to the next hotel room, Joel in tow, and took in our new vacation spot.

Our room had a pair of queen-sized beds that looked – and worse, smelled – like something had died on them. Joel turned over one of the mattresses and rolled out a sleeping bag he’d grabbed from the HUMVEE. With Bailey gone, we had some extra gear. Joel lay down and broke out a manual about some type of communication unit.

Christy moped and took up station in the remnants of what had once been a very luxurious spa tub. At least it was clean. She dug a couple of blankets and pillows out of the closet and set up a cozy little nest. She hadn’t been talkative since we left San Diego, and I couldn’t blame her. Two weeks ago, she’d been home with her parents and brother. Now they were all gone and she was with a bunch of strangers. I remembered my childhood. Dad used to drink a lot. Sometimes he and Mom would disappear for a day or two and then show up like nothing was different. Like I was supposed to ignore the fact that they’d abandoned me.

I hated the feeling of abandonment. I knew it had to be much worse for Christy, so I took every opportunity to speak with her and make her feel at ease. Roz was like a foster mother to her and did her best to keep Christy happy.

I tried to joke with Christy, but she rarely even smiled. She just looked scared and lost, and no amount of dumb things I could say would ever make her feel better. Craig had been a big loss for her. A loss for all of us. I’d never had kids and, quite frankly, didn’t know the first thing about being a dad. Still, I felt like I owed her something, even if it was just a kind word or a lame joke.

“You holding up alright? You look like a princess in that tub.”

“My kingdom used to be bigger.”

I smiled and dug around in my pockets. I sat on the side of the tub and held my hand behind me, then looked over my shoulder and winked at her.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, and scooped up the handful of warm tootsie rolls. “Thank you.”

“Don’t let Joel see. A Marine hopped up on sugar is scary as hell.”

“I’ve seen enough scary sights for a lifetime,” she said, and settled back to unwrap a treat.

“I’m sorry, Christy. Really sorry. I know they’re just words, but I hope you understand that we’re here to help and look out for you, okay? I can’t imagine how hard it’s been, but I promise you – nothing is going to happen to you. Me and Roz will be Papa and Mama Bear—with automatic weapons.”

She looked at me from beneath a mass of dark curls; tears streamed down her face.

“I miss them so much and I’m so scared. Every place we go is worse than the last. I just want to go home, you know? I just want to go back to my old life.”

“I’m with you.” I dug a napkin out of one of my pockets. I inspected it and found the inner fold clean, so I used it to dab at her cheeks.

“Papa bear, huh? That’s good, Creed.” Roz joined us.

I rubbed Christy’s head because I didn’t trust myself to hug her. If I did, I’d be in tears, too, so I left and headed for bed.

My head swirled from too much schnapps and not enough food. I sat on the side of the bed and just stared at the slit in the curtains. Daylight snuck in, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

The events of the last few days crashed down on me. Sleeping on a roof, a half-day of rest in a ratty half-assed cot under an equally half-assed tent, surrounded by civilians with no hope in their eyes. Stuck on top of a HUMVEE while it leapt away from an army of the dead. Clinging to the gunner’s portal for an hour, leaving my arms and shoulders feeling like they were lead bars. Watching Bailey fall.

Anna Sails had stayed to talk with the other mercenaries, but joined us a few minutes later. I wanted to ask what they’d talked about, but I didn’t think I’d like the answers. Besides, I was exhausted and didn’t feel like fighting. She closed the door behind her and looked at our pitiful space.

I offered to sleep on the floor, but I used my best puppy-dog eyes on Anna. She glared, but then looked at the mattress.

Anna rolled out a sleeping bag while her eyes burned holes in me.

“Creed – I don’t have to say it, do I?”

“Say it? What’s ‘it’?”

“You stay on your side. Got it?”

“Sails, you’re nice and all, but it’s the zombie fucking apocalypse. Know what the last thing on my mind is?”

“You’re a man. I know the only thing that’s on your mind.”

“You kill me, Sails. Now, if we were out in the world, the real world that existed a few weeks ago, I might take a shot. I might show up with flowers, most of them in one piece, and I might even say nice things. You know … assuming you’re my type, and all.”

“You have a type?”

“Yeah. Cute and armed.”

Sails expelled a breath and fought down a smile.

“You and Roz could bunk together,” I suggested. “I’m used to the smell of Marines by now.”

Roz was sprawled out on the bed next to Joel, watching as he stripped her .45. He showed her a couple of things, stuff he’d taught me a week ago.

“They look cozy over there,” she said.

They certainly did. How quickly Roz forgot about our little moment in the garage. Come to think of it, that was probably a moment only in my mind. I was probably the only one who gave that time any importance.

“Fine. That shit’s sorted. Now keep the snoring down,” I said, then pulled up a blanket and promptly passed the fuck out.

###

06:30 approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

My alarm clock wasn’t the old-style ringer. It didn’t have bells. It had two hands, and they were attached to one very grumpy Marine. Joel “Cruze” Kelly shook me again. I pulled one arm out of the sleeping bag to punch his fucking lights out and then realized that wasn’t a great idea, because he’d probably hit me over the head with his assault rifle, then stab me in the gut with his knife.

My pissy mood was justified; I’d had little sleep. About an hour ago, I’d half-woken to sounds in the distance that my brain couldn’t clarify. Might have been screaming, or it might have been a nightmare. After that, I tossed and turned while Anna Sails lay next to me in her own sleeping bag. Our little quad sure as hell wasn’t the Hilton, but we were alive.

“Let’s go find some supplies,” Joel said as he moved away.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Sails.

“Don’t know. Maybe he got his period,” Anna said.

“I need coffee.”

“You’re in luck, Sailor,” Anna replied.

She held up a couple of packets of Folgers instant coffee, and that got my attention. I swear I was almost drooling.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned. Where’d you find those?”

“In the bathroom, of course. Don’t you ever stay in hotels?”

“Nah. I live on a big floating hotel.” I looked down for a minute. “Lived, I mean.”

“How long were you in and what ship were you on?”

So I told Sails a little about what had happened on the ship. I told her about how it was overrun and how Joel, Reynolds, and I had all jumped into the ocean just before the USS McClusky hit land and exploded.

I dumped the packets of coffee into a glass that looked more or less clean, and then poured in enough purified water to make a triple espresso. I swirled the mess around for a minute before tossing it back. The flakes of coffee had barely dissolved and ended up stuck in my throat, but I thought it was better than any Starbucks coffee I’d tasted in my life.

“That was delicious.” I burped.

“I’ve tasted asphalt with more flavor,” Anna said as she finished her own dose.

“Really? I bet there’s an amazing story behind that, and I bet it starts with ‘So, I was drinking’.”

“Yeah, something like that. Now put on your game face. It’s time to go.”

Joel was geared up and stood near Roz. He looked like he wanted to say something, but she shook her head, so he kept his trap shut. Ugh – fucking high school drama. Not how I wanted this mission to start.

We piled into the mercs’ room to gather gear and go over the plan one more time. If we ran into a mess, Roz, Donny, and Christy would come out to provide backup.

Joel tested his communication gear, and Markus gave him the thumbs-up when the Marine’s voice came in loud and clear over the walkie talkie.

Before we left, Donny offered me his friend.

“Do not lose this.”

He handed me his Mossberg and a box of shells. She was already loaded, and the rails were filled with shells. I hefted the piece and grinned.

“Thanks, man. I hope I don’t have to use it.”

I’m pretty sure he knew I was lying.

###

07:15 approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA – Undead Central

The morning sky was overcast; the color of the clouds matched the sidewalk. It had rained the night before leaving everything damp. If we were going to be staying we needed to rig up some contraption to capture the rainwater.

Joel took the lead while Anna studied the keys we’d found on various corpses. She finally settled on one car after finding a match.

The Chevy Nova looked like something I would have been in love with when I was sixteen. Out of the seven vehicles – some of them high end – the Nova was one of two that opened with a key. A beat up Jeep with plastic side windows went to Roz. If we got in the shit, this was our way back to Fortress—assuming she and Donny could get us out.

Our car had been dark blue at one time, but the paint was faded and splotchy. The fender was dented, and we found out that the driver-side rear window only rolled down five or six inches, but the engine roared to life after Anna pumped the gas and cranked the ignition a few times. Once it had run for a bit, she shut it off and then fired it up again.

“Just making sure we don’t get there and the damn thing dies,” she told me.

I spun as a loud noise drew my attention. Markus had figured out how to get up to the roof and was now taking up station to watch over us. His rifle looked old, but he’d sworn that it would do the job.

Joel triggered the communication device around his neck and checked in with Markus. They spoke “go shoot stuff” jargon for a few seconds, and then Joel nodded, indicating that we should head out.

“There’s movement east, but they’re still a klick out. About thirty of them, and they won’t even converge on this position if they keep following their current course. If they swing around a few degrees, they’ll be on us,” Joel relayed.

“How long do we have?”

“About twenty minutes, so we need to make them count. We hit the first few places that look promising and then we haul ass back here. If things look clear in a few hours, we can go back out. Anna’s volunteered to drive. Creed…if anything comes near the car, you stick that BAMF out the window and eliminate them. I’ll take care of the upfront action.”

“Wait. B, A…” I started to spell out the letters.

“Bad Ass…”

“Mother Fucker. Got it.” I racked a shell into the gun’s chamber. Talk about a satisfying sound.

Anna poked the Chevy out of the hotel parking lot, saw that the road was clear of Z’s, and took a left at the first cross street.

Half a block later, we came across two of them. They were as young as Christy, but they were old in terms of time spent dead. Both were desiccated corpses that barely managed to stay on their feet. The pair of creepers wandered toward the sound of the car, but they couldn’t keep up.

The next street over was a big mess. Houses smashed in. Furniture and appliances tossed onto yards. Clothes torn and discarded onto browned grass.

“Why do they drag all their crap out of the house?” I wondered out loud.

“Probably treasure hunters looking for money hidden in the walls, or maybe just looking for cool shit,” Joel said.

“This is like little Mexico. Ain’t no one stashing money in walls,” I said.

“You know this how?” Anna asked.

I didn’t have an answer to that one.

We hit a couple of houses and came up empty. A little rambler looked promising, as its blue front door was still bolted shut. When we approached, however, a very angry voice yelled out in Spanish that, best I could tell, we should move the fuck on.

We did.

After a fifteen-minute circuit, it was beginning to look like we weren’t going to find a damn thing – but then Joel had an idea.

“Bet that T J Max had a vending machine.”

“Goddamn genius,” I replied.

Anna pulled into the parking lot and around to a side alley that led us to the back of the building. When we’d first hit San Diego, we’d gone into a Walmart, not knowing that it was full of Z’s. The entire nightmare in that giant dark building had stuck with me ever since. For a while, I even wore a ridiculous orange wristband, pilfered from the sporting-goods section, as a reminder to take nothing for granted. The band eventually got crusty with sweat and blood, so I left it in our original Fortress. Now we were thinking about going into another darkened warehouse-style building.

Wish I’d kept that sweatband. Maybe I wouldn’t have gone for a repeat.

###

07:20 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont CA, Undead Central

Joel wedged his big Marine knife into the doorframe and worked at it for a few minutes. I kept an eye out by scouting our perimeter while Anna watched Joel’s back. I came across another door, but it was locked and had a security pad and card-reader. I’d have been screwed, anyway, because the power was out. I tested the door but it didn’t budge.

The exterior of the building was surrounded by some well-tended shrubbery and a few trees. I felt somewhat secure, but if more than one or two Z’s got wind of us, we’d be hauling ass for the car.

It was strange being out in the open and in a location I’d never visited before. Here we were, survivors of a world gone completely insane, and we were trying to break into a department store.

The big Mossberg felt awesome in my hand. It was like something I’d been missing my entire life. When I was a kid I got to fire a shotgun a few times, but it was nothing like this. It was probably a smaller 20 gauge, but it still bruised the hell out of my shoulder. This baby was different. If I played it smart and let them get close, I’d be a ZULU killing machine. I also wore my trusty M45A1 as a backup, and had one extra mag stuffed in a back pocket.

With all the firepower, I’d done something I hoped I wouldn’t regret. I’d left the pipe wrench back at Fortress. I guess that, if it came down to fighting hand to hand, I’d just use Joel Kelly as my new wrench.

Something rustled near a dumpster about fifty feet to the west, but I didn’t go to investigate. That would lead to shooting, and shooting would lead to Z’s. I thought a dirty face peeked out, but it was gone before I could get a clear view.

I hustled back to Joel’s location; we’d already been in the open for too long.

Joel had his arms crossed while Anna worked at the door.

“Give up?”

“Damn thing’s stuck as hell, man. I can’t even get the blade in there deep enough to pry the door open.”

“Need the assistance of a Navy engineer?” I asked.

“Do you have a tool kit hidden somewhere in your clothing?” Joel smirked.

“Just one,” I said.

I planted my leg on my aching left ankle, then lifted my right foot and bashed the door. It swung in hard, but Anna dashed in and managed to stop it from whipping around and crashing into the other side of the frame.

“Real fucking subtle,” Anna Sails said. She tugged her gun out of her holster and backed up a few steps, then did a quick sweep.

Joel slapped me on the back, and in we went.

The place was dark. Really dark. There wasn’t even an exit sign to help us poke our way around. It was dead quiet, which was actually good news for us. If nothing was moving around in the place, we were probably safe from being rushed by Z’s.

“First stop is the flashlight department,” I whispered.

“Shhh!” Anna and Joel shot back.

I shrugged and stayed close.

We moved fast, but I kept my head on constant gawk as I swiveled around to check out the fading slit of sunlight streaming through the cracked-open doorframe. I wanted to shut the door, but apparently I’d damaged it too much to even prop it closed. At least we had a little bit of light.

The back of the building was constructed as a long hallway with metal shelves for inventory. Most shelves were covered in boxes. I opened a few of them and found they contained clothing. Lots and lots of children’s clothing. I thought about grabbing something for Christy, but none of the stuff was her size.

We moved down the hallway with Joel’s tactical light poking into the dark.

We tried a few office doors, but they were locked. We crept further down, away from our point of entry.

“Jackpot,” Joel whispered as he opened a door.

The room held a few round tables with chairs arrayed around. To my relief, it was free of Z’s.

Joel played the light around the room and revealed a bulletin board and counters boasting a coffee maker, microwave oven, and sink. There was a small window set high in the rear wall. A little bit of light filtered through, so I went through the drawers. After opening the third one, I came up with a prize: a couple of handheld LED flashlights. One was weaker than the other, but they’d help. I gave the brighter one to Anna. Gentlemen that I was, and all.

We split up and grabbed what we could. There was a soda vending machine, but it was locked up tight. I’d kill for a fucking Coca-Cola right about now. The snack vending machine was filled with potato chips, candy bars, and crackers. I stared through the quarter-inch-thick glass and just about drooled.

Joel moved to the door and shut it. He motioned with both hands like he was stabbing someone.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

“Break the glass, dummy,” he shot back.

“Then gimme your knife, if you can part with it long enough.”

“You can’t break it with a blade.”

“No shit. Just gimme the damn thing.”

Joel walked over and handed it to me while Anna Sails walked the perimeter and kept watch.

I took the big knife, reversed it, and hammered the hard metal cap into the glass.

My hand bounced back and I nearly stabbed myself in the shoulder.

“Another idea, genius?”

“Do you want to eat this shit or not?” I glared back.

Joel smiled.

Anna left the room and returned a moment later with a couple of garments. She tossed them at Joel.

“What should I do with these?”

“Wrap them around the muzzle of your piece and shoot the glass, dummy.”

I chuckled and Joel glared.

“Shit. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Joel had acquired a Springfield XDM 9mm sometime during the escape from the base. It was a small handgun, designed for conceal and carry, but he’d taken to it just the same. He chambered a round, checked the safety, and then wrapped a couple of shirts around his hand and the weapon.

I looked away when the muzzle flashed. Even with the fake silencer, the shot was still ridiculously loud in the tiny room, but it got the job done. Well, close enough.

The bullet struck the glass and left a small hole with spider-webbed cracks radiating outward.

This time, when I hit it, I was not denied.

Glass shattered and fell in an unholy clatter. We looked at each other, holding breath for a moment, and then moved with a purpose. Joel tossed open cabinet doors and found a box of garbage bags, then he quickly backed up and stared hard at one of the open storage spaces.

Christ, was there something in there?

“Bingo as fuck.” He said and tossed me the bags.

“What is it?”

“A bunch of plates and utensils.” He grinned. “Oh, and these.”

I wanted to hug him as he took out a case of bottled water. He placed it on the counter and then followed it with a case of iced tea. Joel stacked another case of water on top of that and then looked at me.

“Right!”

I had to put the Mossberg on the counter so I could hustle precious fluids to the doorway. I peeked outside, into the sunlight. That wasn’t my smartest move; I was practically blinded. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust, using the opportunity to crack open a bottle of warm diet Snapple and down it in three massive gulps. I didn’t even care about the aftertaste of artificial sugar.

I’d stumbled halfway back down the hallway when I remembered I had the small flashlight in my pocket. I took out the palm-sized unit and felt around until I found a button. I clicked it and was met with a beam of light that first flickered, then flared.

“Shit!” I tried to yell, but began to choke and cough as I went down.

The Z was almost on me. She was a snarling mess of blood and gore. Someone had stabbed her in the chest, and the knife was still stuck there, jutting from one of her breasts. Her silky print shirt was ripped to shreds and hung wide open, but – even in a lacy black bra – she was about as sexy as a sweaty linebacker.

I fell back on my sore ankle and went down hard, sprawling on my ass. I lifted my right hand and then remembered I’d left my pipe wrench at home. I went for my side arm, but the Z wasn’t waiting. She fell onto me.

Even this waif of a girl, who couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, still had the snarling rage. She wasn’t as crazy as a shuffler, but she was fresh dead – and if she was fresh dead, she wasn’t the only Z in the building. Unless she stabbed herself in the boob.

I pushed her to the side and rolled the other way. She lay dazed for a few seconds and then moved up on all fours. The girl stared at me with those white eyes. I swore, but pulled my gun, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

The fucking Z dodged to the side like she knew I was aiming for her! It didn’t matter, though, because I’d forgotten to turn the damn safety off, too.

The Z leapt into the air and smashed into me. She snarled as she pummeled my chest. I was on my back again, the air driven from my body.

She bit down on my arm and I shrieked. She tore upward, but came away with a mouth full of cloth. I got my knee into her chest, and then she rammed her elbow into the side of my head.

I rolled and took her with me, but she skittered away.

In the dark it was hard to see her form. I snapped the safety off and aimed.

She came in low, from the direction of the door, and I was again blinded by the sliver of bright sun. She hit me just as I fired. The shot went wide and smashed into the door.

This chick was really getting on my nerves. If I was going to make a one-way trip to Undeadville, it wasn’t going to be at the teeth of a hundred-pound girl who wore fashionable clothing.

Then she hit me so hard that I saw stars.

I grabbed her around the neck and tried to hold her away. Her teeth came within inches of snapping my nose off, but I turned my head enough to avoid that. Her breath reeked of rot. I gagged and held my stomach in check.

She flailed, hitting me in the sides with both of her hands while I tried to keep her from biting me.

I yanked the knife out of her chest and drove it into her side. I tugged it back out and made a stab for her head, but panic overrode a controlled aim and the blade split her cheek open. I turned my head to avoid getting a mouthful of gore.

Something grabbed the girl and she was suddenly lifted off of me. She flew to the floor but was on all fours in a split-second.

A gun boomed and the girl was driven into the ground. It boomed again and the girl’s head popped.

I gasped for breath, and then rolled to my side and managed to get to my feet.

Standing over the Z, with her gun still extended, was my hero: Anna fucking Sails. Her eyes were tight as she looked me over.

“Creed. If you’re about to join the crawlers I’m going to be very fucking disappointed.”

“Sails. Jesus Christ. You saved my ass.” I got to my feet and limped toward her.

“Now we’re even. You saved me at the hospital. Call it good?”

I stood with one foot cocked, because it screamed in pain every time I put weight on it. A few days out and I was already a damn cripple. I’d strained it while helping Roz dispatch a few Z’s at her house and had been on the mend ever since.

Sails grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door, propping it open with her hip. She examined the torn shirt and probed at my skin.

“I guess I don’t have to kill you.” She let my arm drop.

“Ow.” I tried not to fall over.

I put my hand on Sails’s shoulder and then draped my arm over her in an embrace. I liked how she was strong and tough but also had all the right curves. Her back tensed, but then she let the tension go.

“Thanks, Sails.”

“We’re not married. Get your hand off me,” she said, but didn’t push me away.

“Sorry. Hurt my ankle. Help me back to the break room so I can finish the load-out?”

“You’re about an idiot, know that, Creed? How are you going to help with a busted leg?”

“Yeah. Good point. I’ll just wait here while you guys bring up the...” I didn’t get to finish my sentence because something screeched in the department store.

Joel appeared a second later, took one look at us, and the corpse, shrugged and deposited a box of goodies next to mine.

“Movement in there. Lots of it. We need to haul ass,” Joel said and turned to go back in.

“Wait, man, where you going?”

“One more box. I got it. Just get this shit in the car.” He turned back. “Can’t you two wait for a touchy feely moment until we’re at least back in the hotel?”

“He hurt his vagina and needed my help,” Sails protested.

“Ankle. It gave out when she attacked. Just go. Stand around discussing all this bullshit and nothing will get done.” I didn’t let go of Sails.

Joel went back. I swallowed when my friend left, but if anyone could take care of himself, it was Joel “Super Marine” Kelly.

I let go of Sails, limped to the pile of goods, then picked up a box and hobbled to the front door. Sails moved ahead and opened it. She looked both ways and then hustled to the car and popped the trunk.

“Got to be fucking kidding me!”

“What? Z? Dead hooker?” I wanted to know what was causing the look on Anna’s face.

She left the trunk open and as she left to retrieve another box.

I staggered to the trunk with the box in one hand, and then gasped and gawked. Now where in the hell were we going to put our goods?

The space was filled with boxes of canned goods. Someone had already crammed the trunk with corned beef hash, canned tuna, mixed vegetables, and – of course – spinach. There also were bags of noodles and boxes of instant mashed potatoes.

The irony of our situation really sank in when I heard the first Z round the corner. It staggered into sight, followed quickly by another one. They stared with milk-white eyes. Sunken cheeks. Matted hair. Blood-splattered clothing.

“We need to go now!”

Gunfire erupted inside; I knew the sound all too well. Joel was using his AR. Anna’s booming .357 sounded next, but then stopped, presumably so she could reload.

I lifted the .45, took very careful aim, and shot the first Z. The bullet spun the guy to the right, but I’d missed a direct headshot and only taken off an ear. I fired again, the count in my head ticking to four. Joel had taught me well. Four more and I’d have to reload. I shot the second Z, and this time scored a headshot, but the bullet punched through its cheek and tore a path of destruction. The Z’s jaw half-destroyed jaw unhinged as he continued to advance.

I dispatched that one, and then, with shaking fingers, reloaded.

From around the back of the building came at least a dozen more, and just to show how really unfucking lucky we were today, there were a pair of shufflers in the bunch.

“Joel. We need to go. Now!” I called into the building, no longer worrying about loud noised drawing a horde. They were already here.

Entry #12 – Do Over

08:00 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The nearest Z went down as I emptied my magazine. I reached for a fresh mag, slapped it home, and went on firing. I got lucky with the first shuffler. Real fucking lucky. If the real world were still around, I’d go out and buy a goddamn lottery ticket.

As the shuffler left the ground, I squeezed off a pair of shots. The first one missed by a mile, but the second one caved in the fucker’s head. I didn’t have time to let out a whoop, though, because the other shuffler was rounding the corner.

The shuffler flopped to the ground like a rag doll. Blood hit the pavement, splattering across my boots. I staggered back from his twice dead corpse, and almost went down on my bad ankle.

Gun shots rattled inside the department store. I didn’t bother moving toward the blasts. If there was one guy equipped to take care of a few Z’s, it was Joel “Cruze” Kelly.

I reached for a fresh mag when I remembered I was out. I had a few shots left, but not enough to take down the half-dozen Z’s headed my way.

I pushed boxes around in the trunk until I could get my hand under the floor mat; I felt around for a tire iron. Found it in seconds, but the thing was one of those cross-shape deals, which are really convenient when you need to change a tire, but not so much when you need to bash heads.

I wanted to go back to the start of the morning and have a do-over, Groundhog Day style. Then I’d have brought my damn wrench. Like a genius, I’d left the brand new pump action shotgun in the break room.

I had five rounds left in the magazine and a few in my pockets, but that wouldn’t help me. I’d have to reload while attempting to not get bitten.

I shot a Z in the chest and blew it off its feet. The bastard, dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt, rolled over and crawled toward me.

More shots echoed from inside, and I decided that it was probably a good idea to get in there where I had some backup. I moved to the door and slid it open.

“It’s me, Joel! Don’t blow my head off!”

The Z’s, somehow sensing that I was going to slip away, quickly converged on me. I turned with a fire lit under my ass.

I ran right into Sails as she slammed another case on the ground.

Joel came around the corner, firing.

“So glad to see you guys!” I must have been a sad sight, but I was damn sure relieved.

Sails didn’t reply; she just pressed something against me. I looked down at the Mossberg that Donny had entrusted to me.

“Go kill some stuff, Creed.” She said as she let go of the shotgun.

I made a mental note to never leave my primary weapon out of reach. If I had to strap it to my forehead, I was going to always be prepared in the future. Then I made another note to hug Sails—if we managed to survive this latest clusterfuck.

I pushed the door open as I holstered my sidearm. Sails moved at my back. She pushed the door all the way open and dropped to a crouch. I lifted the Mossberg 500, aimed in the direction of a Z covered in gore, and blew a hole the size of Texas through its chest.

I worked the grip as I hammered shell after shell into the breach. After I unleashed five rounds, I fell back. Sails covered me while I reloaded from the front rails.

Joel made it to our location with a box of goodies over his shoulder. His AR was strapped across his back, and he was firing with his handgun as he moved. BAMF indeed.

“No room. Trunk’s full,” I told him.

“Full?”

“Yeah, didn’t you guys check it before we left? It’s got enough food to last us a week.”

“The fuck?”

“Donny looked over the car after I found it, but he’s a lazy ass. He probably never even looked in the trunk.” Sails rolled her eyes.

Joel shrugged and ran to the vehicle. He kicked the rear door all the way open and tossed two cases of water and tea into the back. I moved around him as I reloaded.

Sails grabbed a box of bagged potato chips and candy bars and tossed it in among the mess.

“Sails, I’ll take the shuffler. Concentrate on the others and don’t let any of them near me.”

“Done.”

“And don’t shoot me in the ass.”

“If I do, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

“Wait. Really?”

Sails shot me the finger, then buried a pair of rounds into a woman whose bad day must have started 72 hours ago.

The shuffler was a greedy bastard, but he was smart. He leapt around behind the horde while I tracked him with the pump action. I dropped a Z by taking out his knees, and then ducked so I could see where the jumping asshole was hiding.

“Let’s just go, Creed!” Joel yelled.

“Right,” I said and backed up a few paces toward the car. “Right after I eliminate this shuffler.”

The horde had been down to five or six, but then a fresh bunch arrived to refill the ranks. There were at least twenty other Z’s when I finally got a clear look at the shuffler.

In life, he probably wasn’t more than five-foot-six. He was built, though, like a tiny linebacker. His arms were crisscrossed with wounds and his head was partially bashed in on one side. His one good eye swiveled to find me, so I lifted, aimed, and fired.

The big gun bucked against my shoulder.

My shot was off by a foot. It struck another Z around waist level and crumpled the guy.

Joel let off a burst of rounds as he closed in on my position.

“Let’s go, man.”

“That fucking shuffler. I swear he’s playing with me.”

“Ain’t no damn zombie smart enough for mind games. Get in the car, Jackson.”

“I can take him.”

“Dude. We need to evac.” Joel was ready to go.

Sails hopped in the car. It roared to life as I fell back. Joel grabbed a few more items and stuffed them in the trunk before slamming the lid closed.

I hit the side of the car with my butt, then felt around until I found the door handle. I popped it open and slid inside. As I maneuvered, I never lost sight of the shuffler’s location. He’d been hobbling along behind the mass of Z’s while I worked the shotgun.

I was barely in the seat when Sails gunned the engine.

That’s when the shuffler showed me just how wrong Joel had been.

It had managed to move among the horde, up on two feet. I saw him just before he dropped to all fours. Then he was in the air and sailing toward us like a freaky jack in the box.

I didn’t have the chance to shoot it, because Sails slammed into reverse, then spun the car around in a neat half donut. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.

I was thrown against the door as she came to a halt. She worked the gearbox, and then I was pressed into the seat.

“Hang on to your nut sacks!” Sails yelled and the car lurched forward.

She only drove for a few seconds before she slammed to a halt.

Ahead of us, a fresh horde had arrived. There were more than thirty, and even if we had a freaking tommy gun, there was no way we could shoot our way free.

“Eagle One, we’re bottled up.” Joel spoke into his throat mic.

At least that damn thing was working, now that we were out of the building.

“He doesn’t have a shot. We need to get to the west side of the building so Markus can assist,” Joel said.

“How?”

The two hordes closed in, and there was that damn shuffler. I leaned over, stuck the barrel out, and fired at him.

“The hell, Creed!” Anna yelled.

Joel rubbed his ears.

It sounded like someone had tossed a hand grenade in the vehicle. My ears rang and everything came in like I was stuck underwater—muffled and far away.

The shuffler fell back. I hadn’t even managed to hit him.

“Sorry! This son of a bitch is fast and smart. I don’t suppose you have a grenade stuffed in one of your pockets?”

“Even if I did, you’d probably set the damn thing off in here.”

“Gimme a little credit.” I had to shout to hear myself over the ringing in my ears.

“Can you go over?” Joel turned to Sails and pointed at the median separating the parking lot from the street.

“I think so. I’ll have to go slow or we’ll be tossed out the window when I hit the little hill.”

The “little” hill was made of eight inches of curb that rose into a hump which was covered in shrubs. Even if we got over the initial bump, I was concerned that we’d be stuck.

“Wait, we might…”

Sails hit the gas and eased up onto the curb. When she was over the hump, she punched it, and we bounced up and over the curb. I held on to the seat while also holding my breath. There were so many Z’s behind us that this was about to become a very bad day.

I leaned out of the car, my body perched up on the door frame, then aimed the shotgun and blew a Z backward.

The shuffler faded into the crowd.

Joel Kelly popped out of the passenger side window so he could shoot a few Z’s.

We were in trouble.

The car managed to scream up the curb and make it onto the easement. That’s where we got stuck. Sails hit the gas, but the rear wheels just spun.

“Joel! In the back, quick!”

“What?”

“In the back! If we can get some weight back here, the car might move.”

He slid back inside and then slithered over the back of the seat to join me.

Two Z’s got wind of me and rushed. I shot one in the chest, pumped, and then clicked on an empty chamber.

Joel tossed me his sidearm and I shot until it was dry.

They still came at us.

“We need to haul ass!” Sails said, opening the door.

“I’m not leaving our stash,” I replied.

And I wasn’t. There was no damn way I was about to just run, knowing that we’d busted ass to get this stuff. Besides, my ankle was shot, and I wasn’t going to get very far unless my Marine buddy carried me.

“Let’s sit on the back of the car. It’ll move.”

“That is the stupidest damn idea ever,” I said, but I was already opening the door.

We dashed out of the car and hopped onto the trunk. Memories of barely holding onto the HUMVEE as we exited the naval station a few days ago flashed through my head. Joel fired while I reloaded the Mossberg.

Six or seven of the shambling corpses were right on us. A guy missing part of one arm flopped his good hand onto the trunk and managed to get a grip on my pant sleeve. Joel lashed out with his boot and kicked the guy to the ground.

Anna leaned out and shot a Z through the head, then gave the car some gas.

Show off.

Joel and I held on for dear life while the rear tires finally found purchase. I grabbed hold of the space between the trunk and the rear window; I managed to hold on even though it felt like my fingers were about to be ripped off.

Joel wasn’t so lucky.

He was bucked off the back as the car shot forward.

We hit the other side of the easement and I was nearly thrown off.

Sails slammed to a stop and jumped out of the car.

I rolled over and dropped to the ground. The pain was immense as my leg crumpled under me.

I managed to roll over, grab the shotgun, and fire at a Z that was less than three feet away.

I also managed to miss the fucker by a mile.

“Up, sailor!” Sails to the rescue.

I got to my feet, slammed a fresh shell into the Mossberg, and shot the Z that was closing in on Joel. The explosion lifted the fat man off his feet and drove him backward into another Z.

I dropped to Joel Kelly’s side and rolled him over. He coughed, and then reached for his side, but his sidearm was still in the car.

“Where’s our backup?”

“Nothing on coms.”

Nothing on coms? Markus was supposed to have our back. Roz was also supposed to be waiting to drive out and help us. What was happening back at Fortress Mark II?

Joel looked like hell. I helped him to his feet just in time for him to lunge forward and bury his blade in the head of a female Z. She fell away, dragging his knife with her.

Z’s to the side and now a few to the front. I reached for another shell and realized I’d exhausted all of the rounds on my pump action, so I turned it around and used it as a club.

The first Z to reach me took a face full of tactical stock. He staggered away but wasn’t dead. I kicked the legs out from under another while Sails got Joel Kelly into the car.

I dove back through the rear door as Sails slammed hers shut. She hit the gas, and we ripped over the easement and hit the asphalt hard enough to bounce me into the roof.

“Gun!” Joel said and reached over his shoulder.

I looked around and found his piece on the floor. I handed it over. Kelly did a quick inspection, and then leaned out of the window and fired two rounds.

That’s when the shuffler hit the car.

He must have been in the mass of Z’s, because I didn’t even see him until he was on the trunk. He held on as Sails slowed to maneuver around the fresh hell that had arrived from the road. This mass wasn’t as big as the one we’d left behind, but there was no way we could just plow through them.

The shuffler howled at me, so I howled back. He was an ugly fucker with lank hair that hung just above his eyes. There was that look of something…intelligence? Anger? It seemed to nestle there in his gaze, and I saw, for the second time, the hint of green, like he had some kind of dye in his eyes.

“Gun!” I yelled.

Sails handed back her big .357. I took the handgun, lifted it, and then fired. The explosion in the little vehicle was like the soundtrack to the end of the world.

The shuffler fell away, but he’d moved as I’d lifted the piece and aimed. I slammed the gun into the rear window, near the bullet hole; most of the safety glass fell into the car.

I sank back into the seat as Sails found an open spot of road. The only problem? We were headed away from Fortress Mark II.

###

08:20 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The wind tore into the car as Sails pushed the vehicle up to speed.

“We’ll hit the freeway and then double back around the outskirts of the city. Go the way we came in, yeah?” Joel spoke to me and Sails, his eyes darting around.

“Sounds like a plan.” My voice sounded weird, like I was talking through a gag.

My ears rang like a bitch from all the gunplay; shooting at the shuffler had nearly made me deaf.

Just when I thought we were home free, the car came to a screeching halt. Joel and I were both thrown into the seats in front of us with a few healthy howls and curses. I got my arm up, but still managed to kiss leather.

“Christ on a crutch, Sails!” Joel was wide-eyed.

“Wow, gee. I must really suck at this driving shit. Now shut up and look!” Sails sounded like she wanted to rip our heads off. I peered forward and saw why.

I exhaled a long, slow, weary breath, then swore. Joel looked through the cracked front window and joined me. Great. We’d gone from one fuckening to another in the space of two minutes – and this one left us completely exposed.

Ahead lay a sea of dead.

They’d taken to the roads like a parade of the damned. Moaning, lurching, covered in filth and blood. Missing arms, ears, lips, and cheeks. Damaged bodies, torn skin, mangled limbs. They had the telltale white eyes; most swiveled to take us in.

“How the hell do we get back to Fortress, now?” I wondered out loud.

“We may have to go through them,” Sails said.

“That’s not much of a plan,” Joel responded. Can’t say I disagreed.

So our choices came down to either going back, or going around them.

“Fuck it.” Anna punched the car into reverse and backed down the ramp, then flipped around and drove until she found a bit of shoulder that wasn’t covered in bodies, busted cars, or the remnants of looted supplies. She slammed the car to a halt, and this time I was ready. I got my hand up to stop my forward momentum, but before I could, she gunned the engine and shot down a side alley.

Joel tried his throat mic again. This time he got through.

After speaking in a low voice for a minute, he shot Sails a look of fear.

“What’s wrong?” Sails looked puzzled.

“Fortress. We need to get back now.”

“Dammit! How many Z’s?”

“A few, but there’s another problem. Some locals came by and wanted to look around. Sounded like they had eyes on the HUMVEE.”

“How many?” I asked.

“A couple, but there may be more on the way. That vehicle is prime property.”

“There’s plenty of cars to go around,” I said.

“Yeah but how many are armed and armored? With enough ammo, you could go just about anywhere.”

“Haul ass, Sails.” I gripped the back of her seat.

“If you say that one more time, Jackson Creed, I’m going to pull this car over and shove my gun down your throat.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” I grinned.

She responded by slamming on her brakes hard enough for me to nearly end up in the front seat.

A pair of Z’s were right ahead of us, blocking the street like they were out for an afternoon stroll. Sails moved around them. They reached for the car, but Joel kicked the door open and knocked one of them to the ground. We maneuvered beyond them and were on the move again.

The city was new to us, but the center of town was still at our backs. From there, it was easy enough to triangulate the hotel’s location. Sails drove over a couple of cross streets and ended up finding the freeway we’d come in on. Then it was just a matter of pulling off and retracing our tracks.

As if Markus sensed us talking about him, the sound of a really big gun spoke in the distance. It rumbled over the car, followed a moment later by a second shot.

“That’s probably Markus.” Joel did not look happy.

Sails sat behind the wheel and gripped it tight.

“This is not good. We don’t want a blood bath, but can we even assist?”

“We’re low on ammo and we have a car full of supplies,” Joel replied.

“We can’t just abandon them,” I said.

“We ain’t abandoning anybody. I just mean, we can’t let our supplies fall into the other guys’ hands. We worked too hard for them.”

“Yeah, well, most of the food was already here. I hope Donny survives, so I can punch his lights out. We could be sitting in a hotel room right now, eating canned green beans and catching up on sleep,” I said.

“Probably wouldn’t stop the locals,” Joel replied.

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Let’s get motivated, people. We gotta make a decision,” Sails said.

“Pull up a block away. I’ll scout.” Joel went over his gear, checked his rifle, and adjusted his combat armor.

I sat in the back and felt like punching stuff. With the Z’s there was always that sense of dread, like we were in constant danger. But Z’s were slow and you could take them out if you were careful. Fighting other survivors was a different matter. They planned and strategized just like us. When the bullets started flying, it would be a clusterfuck – a big old cluster, and one of us would probably end up shot.

But there was no way they were getting Roz and Christy, not to mention our armored transport.

Anna Sails pulled away from the curb. The car made a weird thumping noise as she pushed it up to about fifteen miles an hour.

“Stop.” I had a sinking feeling.

“Flat?” Joel looked over his shoulder.

“Might be something worse.” I said.

“We’re in the middle of the zombie fucking apocalypse, as you like to say. We don’t have time to swing by a repair shop,” Joel said. “Abandon ship and find a new ride.”

“No time. Let’s just go. All this bullshit and our friends have their asses hanging in the air. Fuck the car if it gets us there,” Sails said.

She pushed the Chevy up to a little over twenty-five, but the ominous thumping got worse and worse. Sails had to take a left at the next intersection and then maneuver around a pair of stalled pick up trucks. I used the time to feel around under the front seats until I located the box of shells Donny had handed me on the way out of Fortress Mark II. I reloaded the Mossberg and then filled the rails with rounds. Then I stuffed as many as I could into my front pockets.

I handed Sails her M&P R8.

The next street was totally clogged with stranded cars. Sails let out a grunt of frustration and moved to an alley that was remarkably empty—except for a dumpster that had been left in the middle.

“Fuck that.” She moved on.

Could have been a trap. Who knows? She was driving, and I trusted her judgment.  Not that I’d tell her that.

The next cross-street was also clogged, but Sails eased up onto the sidewalk and then back down to the road. Each time we went up or down, I worried that the car would just stop, the transaxle cracked.

We were a block from the hotel before we saw familiar landmarks. Joel motioned for Anna to stop.

“Keep your head down, and if you run into trouble, drive away, but keep an eye out. Joel and I will check out the situation at the hotel.”

“The fuck you leaving me in the car for? Cause I’m a woman?”

“Nah, I got Creed for that role.” Joel said and winked at her.

“If you want Joel to sit up here and help with the get away then be my guest. I know you’re capable, Anna,” I said.

“Well, all you had to do was ask nicely.” She wore a little sarcastic grimace.

“I’ll give the all-clear when things are safe. If someone starts shooting, you gun it and roll up on them while firing into the air. That should spook them, maybe give us an advantage,” Joel said.

“How about if I shoot at them?” I asked.

“As long as you don’t hit me” Joel replied.

I lumbered out of the car and wondered why in the hell he wanted me along.

Sails grabbed my wrist as I moved away from the car. She pulled, so I leaned in.

“Creed. Stay sharp out there, and don’t do anything fucking stupid.”

“Fucking Stupid is my middle name.”

Sails smirked.

“Make it back and maybe I’ll let you hold my hand and take me to a movie.”

“I’d like to take you to…”

“Creed, let’s move. You’re in the Marines now, bitch,” Joel said and moved out.

“Yeah. You too, Anna…be safe.” Then I patted her hand like she was a two-year old or something. Fucking brilliant.

###

08:25 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“Why didn’t you take Anna?”

“Because you and I’ve been a team for the last two weeks. I don’t have time to train a new guy. Or girl. Besides, I don’t trust the mercs,” Joel said as we huffed it toward the hotel.

Joel picked his way around a series of low shrubs, then faded from tree to tree as the gate came into view. Since the pair of gunshots, it’d been mercifully quiet. Joel triggered his throat mic a few times but he didn’t hear a response. What the hell was Markus doing up there?

“Sails is cool. I think she might like me. Don’t say anything.”

“What are you, in high school?” Joel laughed.

“No, I mean she’s cool to me. I’d like to get to know her.”

We dashed behind a bus stop and Joel poked his head around the corner.

“Clear.” He moved inside the little shelter.

I wished a bus was on the way to carry us to anywhere that didn’t host a shitload of Z’s.

“Just don’t think with your dick, Creed. There’s enough going down without having to get attached. Next thing you know, you’re going to worry about a girl every five minutes.”

“Oh yeah, so if Roz decided to go her own way, what would you have to say to that?” I asked.

“That’s low, Creed.” Joel barely hid a half smile.

“What the fuck ever. Let’s go get your girl.”

“Roz isn’t my girl.”

“Right.”

Joel moved out with me close behind. He double-timed it toward the remains of a fast food restaurant. My ankle screamed in protest, but I kept up. I leaned against the building to catch my breath. All of the windows had been broken out and someone had sprayed a name on the brick wall. “Looking for Ellen Bates. Fred and Mary are at the La Jolla refugee center.”

“So what’s our play?” I asked.

“We’re blind, and that’s not good. Markus could be down, and that’s even worse. You cover my back. If anyone gets close, give them a warning. If they show a weapon, shoot them.”

“Wait. I’ve never shot anyone before.”

“The hell you talking about, squid? You’ve killed dozens of Z’s.”

“Those weren’t people. They were problems.”

“These guys are about to be a problem. Do you really want to let them get to Roz and Christy?”

“No.”

“There’s your pep talk. Now let’s take care of business.” He abruptly moved ahead.

I limped after.

###

08:35 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We kept the sun to our backs as we picked our way over the flat terrain. Old strip malls and more than one apartment complex provided enough cover for us. I kept the Mossberg pointed away from Joel as I covered his six. My eyes went where the gun barrel went. My hands were tense on the gun as I kept it steady against my shoulder. I would have been in a crouch as I moved, but shuffling on my busted ankle wasn’t making that part easy.

Joel was silent as he faded from doorway to doorway, from car to car. He moved and motioned after he’d swept the area with his eyes. By the time I reached his location, he was already on the move again.

The hotel was in sight.

We found an overturned suburban to take cover behind. Joel peeked around the back of the big vehicle, and then ducked back around and crouched next to me.

“There’s a couple of cars in front of the gate. I can see three people.”

“So what do we do?”

“Fuck.”

“You’re not my type,” I said.

Joel snorted, then looked thoughtful.

“If this was Afghanistan we’d go in hot. Shoot, scoot, and cover. Problem is, we don’t know these guys’ intentions.”

“We’re both dressed for battle. How about this?” I laid out the plan.

Joel thought about it for a minute.

“It’s not bad. There is one problem.”

“Yeah. I might get my ass shot off.”

“That’s it.”

I grinned as wide as possible and wondered where in the hell my sudden bravado had come from. Then I strolled out from behind cover and walked toward what might be a firing squad.

Entry #13 - Clusterfuck

08:45 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

It was time to put up or shut up. Joel wanted to go in shooting. I wanted to try something else. We glared at each other until, after a few seconds of trading comments about why both ways out were a shitty idea, Joel relented.

I took a deep breath, put the shotgun barrel over my shoulder, and casually strolled out from behind cover. I moved as if I didn’t have a care in the world, even though I might have a hundred gun barrels pointed at me.

I ambled around a stalled car that still had moving occupants inside. From the appearance of the two Z’s, I guessed they’d started chewing on each other out of zombie boredom.

The walk was only fifty feet, but it seemed to take forever.

I neared a pair of cars. Both were newer, and one of them still had a sales sticker on the window. Whoever these guys were, they were smart. Hitting up a car dealership and taking whatever we wanted should have been our next move.

“Stop! Hold it right there!”

The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty. He wore a wind breaker and a cowboy hat. At his side was a holstered six-shooter hanging from a wide, crooked belt. He looked like he was trying out for a modern-day Western.

“Whoa, man. What’s the deal? Me and the boys are hungry and need to get back to our base of operations.” I spoke with a calm confidence.

The kid was quickly joined by a pair of guys not much younger than him. They carried assault rifles.

“Boys?”

“Yeah. Who are you guys?” I asked.

“Uh. We’re from the University of San Diego. We were trying to find a safe place to rest. We saw the military vehicle.”

“You guys should move on. I’m with a bunch of Marines and they’re twitchy fuckers. They see all those guns and they’re likely to start shooting. In fact, see that truck over there?” I turned and pointed.

The guys followed my gesture and the cowboy gasped.

“Yeah, that’s my friend Joel. Marine sniper. I’ve seen him shoot the arm off a Z from three hundred yards. That’s what he did in the war. He shot people.”

“Oh shit, man. We aren’t looking for trouble; we were just looking for help.”

“Are you sure there aren’t any lurkers around? Backup? You guys wouldn’t be trying to steal our shit, would ya?” I leveled my best stone-cold-killer gaze at the kid.

“No, man. No. It’s just us.”

I turned and waved the all-clear for Joel. If these guys had laid in some kind of trap, they were the best actors in the world.

“Joel’s calling it in. If you guys are legit, no one gets hurt. Cool?”

“I swear, it’s just us. We’re just lost and hungry,” the youngest of the bunch said.

He had pale skin, freckles, and red hair. He was so skinny I wondered if a stiff wind would knock him over.

“We got a warning over coms that our little home here might be in danger,” I said.

Joel kept his assault rifle at the ready as he advanced toward us.

“That wasn’t us.”

“Yeah? You wouldn’t lie to me, right? What are your names, anyway? I’m Jackson Creed and that mean motherfucker is Joel Kelly.”

The three exchanged glances. They looked like they wanted to get the hell out of here, and I didn’t blame them. I was bluffing, sure, but if I thought a bunch of hard ass Marines were bearing down on my location, I’d leave a rooster tail of dust.

“We should just go,” the skinny guy said.

“Free country,” I said.

“It was a free country a few weeks ago,” the kid said.

“You mentioned some others?”

“Yeah, man. A bunch of guys on motorcycles and in trucks. They exchanged words with whoever is up there and then moved out. They didn’t look happy.”

I looked into the hotel parking lot and found out why. Donny was in the gunner’s seat, and he had the machine gun pointed in our direction. They couldn’t know that he was out of ammo.

I lifted my hand and waved. Donny waved back.

“Do you know who those guys were?”

“Just a bunch of mean looking guys. Bad asses. They wore leather and looked like they had a gang before this shit went down. They had swagger, man. Tons of swagger. Their leader’s named McQuinn.”

Joel joined us and he didn’t look happy.

“How many?”

“Just a few, but last night we were camped a mile or two from here and we heard this loud noise. We saw lights on the road, so we kept out of sight. There were probably fifteen or twenty vehicles.”

Joel moved toward the gate. He waved once and got the all-clear from Donny.

“Creed, let’s go.”

“Sails?”

The Chevy crept up on our location from the west. She came in real quiet, and I noticed right away that the thumping was gone.

Donny ran out and opened up the gate, and Sails drove in. Joel motioned for me.

“You guys have any supplies?” I asked.

“Not much. We got a case of refried beans and some salsa from a shop that wasn’t picked over. Also found some beer, but Edgar’s been hitting that stuff pretty hard at night.”

The third guy wasn’t as tall as me, but he was wide. Even with his gut, he looked like he was in decent shape.

“Gotta feed the machine,” he said and belched. “I play football. I used to.”

“Bring your stuff. We’re moving out soon, but we have some food. Got any ammo?”

“Not much. A few boxes.”

Joel stormed toward me.

“What the hell, Creed? These guys need to move on.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t even thought about taking a vote.

Rumbling sounded in the distance and Joel got a worried look.

“It’s cool. We don’t want any trouble,” the skinny guy said.

The other two followed suit and hopped into the cars. I wanted to say something, but Joel was right. We didn’t need more mouths, but that wasn’t the only reason. They didn’t look like they were capable of taking care of themselves. They were just a notch lower than me on the zombie fucking apocalypse totem pole.

I moved toward the gate and shut it while Anna pulled up next to the HUMVEE.

“You fixed the car?”

“Yep. It just needed a woman’s touch.”

“Really?”

“Nah. We picked up an arm along the way, and it was thumping under the car.”

I actually laughed at that one and gently punched Sails.

“I hereby grant you the rank of First Class Engineer in the United States of Undead America.”

“I better get a damn pay raise,” she said.

“Oh, you will. I’ll put in a call to the President immediately.”

“Wow, Creed. You’re all heart.”

“True story. Now about that date?”

“Yeah. About that,” she said and turned.

I followed her gaze; a moment later, a rumbling sound reached me.

Engines. A lot of engines. And they were heading in our direction.

###

09:25 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

Our minute of chitchat ended on a sour note, thanks to a bunch of assholes determined to crash our party. Over the last few weeks, we’d run into good people. Mostly good people. There were a few exceptions, of course, like Ken and his bat-shit insane buddy, who were holed up in a little house when they weren’t grabbing female Z’s off the street. Fucking a Z? In the case of Monster Ken and his jackass-in-training, they must have been crazy before the whole end of the world thing occurred.

From time to time, we’d even come across some looters, but – as Joel pointed out – it wasn’t our job to play sheriff. We weren’t cops. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and the meanest dog would want to find the biggest bone.

As far as I could tell, we were the only bone in town. A few stragglers were making a living by scrounging, but for the most part, this little town had become full-on Undeadville.

It’d finally happened. It was bound to. The mercs had mentioned moving fast, but Joel and I had talked them into staying for a day while we did a food run.

Fuck me.

###

09:35 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“Sorry about the communications, man. The batteries started to die about the time you boys left,” Markus said.

He held up the dead unit and then tossed it into the back of the HUMVEE.

“Do we have more batteries?”

“Don’t know, man. There’s still a lot of shit in the back of the transport. We can check later, but right now we have a bigger problem.”

I nodded and moved around to the back of the Chevy to help load food into the HUMVEE. I grabbed a box of juice bottles, stuck one of the bottles into my pocket, and maneuvered the rest of the box into the truck. Christy grabbed it and shifted the contents into the back.

Roz came down the stairs in a rush. She had the last of the supplies from the hotel room in one hand and her handgun in the other.

“You guys get fucking lost out there?” she asked as she breezed by.

“We got in some trouble,” I said.

“Imagine that. You and trouble.”

“Come on, Roz. We found a great stash of food, but the place was crawling.”

“I’m sure. This whole town is crawling. Now let’s go before those assholes get here and I have to start shooting fools.”

Too late. They were already here.

###

09:45 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The kids in the two new cars roared back toward us. I didn’t really think about options for them. If they were caught, they’d probably be killed, or at least get their asses kicked. The guy in the red sports car did a little wave as he drove past. I waved back.

Then they were gone.

The carnival arrived a minute later.

Donny had been busy moving shit around in the back of the HUMVEE. He whooped once and then slammed a heavy box on top of the transport. Markus conferred with Joel Kelly. Markus nodded and then disappeared up the stairs.

I waited around with my dick in my hand, wondering what in the hell I should do. Donny called my name.

“What’d you find?” I asked.

“Got some frags. Best fucking thing? I found a few rounds for the fifty cal. We can spook ‘em. Now who’s going to go out and bullshit our way out of here?”

“I guess you’re staring at me because I have the duty?”

“That would be real Christian of you, partner,” he said.

“What if they start shooting?”

He tossed down a box of shells. I caught it and read the tops. He’d given me about thirty fresh rounds for the Mossberg.

“Shoot back,” he said and loaded the big machine gun.

Donny handed down another box to Joel.

Joel opened the green metal box, extracted a few round items, and then handed a couple to me.

“These are M67 frag grenades. You’ve seen this on TV a million times, right? Pull the pin and throw. After it hits, you’ve got anywhere from three to seven seconds before the blast. When you throw, make sure to yell ‘frag out,’ especially if we’re around you.”

“What’s the range of the explosion? I don’t want an ass full of shrapnel.”

“Fifteen meters immediate blast zone, but shrapnel can travel as far as a few football fields, so you make sure you’re behind something. This will scare the fuck out of anyone on the other side of the fence.”

“Scare them worse than a bunch of zombies?”

Joel winked.

We moved toward the perimeter.

He checked the fence and figured out a way to lock it with a metal bar. It wouldn’t hold up to a halfway-determined assault from even a small vehicle, but they didn’t know that.

Brick walls rose on either side of the fence. Joel found a spot out of sight, then loaded rounds into magazines and secured grenades to his tactical armor. I refilled the rails and breach of my shotgun. Standing, I couldn’t see over the wall. I limped to the front office, dragged a chair out, and placed it next to the wall. I climbed atop it to get a look at the approaching force.

The wall was old and pitted and made of red bricks. I found a couple of places where the grout had eroded, so I was able to view the road through the small holes.

What I saw was a scene straight out of a Mad Max movie. Trucks, cars, and motorcycles closed on us. Someone had mounted a head on the hood of one of the trucks. From a distance, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

Maybe they would just hang a right and keep going. I scanned the parking lot and saw that everyone was hidden, either behind cars or in the Chevy, which had moved to the side of the building and was out of sight.

The lead pickup truck came to a halt, and a guy hopped out and took cover behind his door. Another man slid out of the passenger side and took cover behind his door. He wore some kind of camouflage gear. As far as prospective allies went, this was not looking promising.

Then at least fifteen motorcycles roared up behind them.

They were a motley bunch, but they were well supplied with guns. I saw more than a few women among them. They all had hard faces.

“We know you’re in there. Just give us the military vehicle and we’ll be on our way. We don’t want anything else.”

“That’s not cool. What if we need it?” I called out from behind the wall.

Joel shot me a questioning look.

“What?” I whispered.

He shrugged and pointed toward the guys on the other side of the fence then showed me a fist.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say.” I whispered back.

“Be a hardass,” he shot back.

Jesus. Why wasn’t he talking?

“How many are there? Maybe you guys can join us. We could use a few more men,” the guy said.

He wore a pair of reflective sun glasses even though it was overcast. His hair was steel grey and about an eighth of an inch long. He wore a giant gold cross around his neck on an equally huge gold chain. He also had about five guns strapped to various parts of his body. Topping that off was an assault rifle bigger than anything I’d seen since this whole shit-fest started a few weeks ago.

“Yeah. We can use ya.” His buddy spoke up from behind the other door, then chuckled.

“State your intentions.” I deepened my voice.

Joel shrugged. Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, pal.

“Name’s McQuinn, Frank McQuinn, and we intend to take that HUMVEE and go.”

“Do you see that big gun on the HUMVEE?”

“Yep, sure do, and no one’s behind it. Run out of ammo?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Look, man. There’s, what, two or three of you? And one’s a chick. We scouted you earlier at the shopping center. Good moves back there.”

“Yeah, thanks. I got all my Christmas shopping done in one day.”

McQuinn chuckled.

“Just give it up. We don’t want to have to do things the hard way. Right Roscoe?”

“Goddamn right,” his companion said.

“Just go away and no one gets hurt,” I said.

“You said that already.” McQuinn sighed. “Have it your way.”

He motioned and a couple of guys moved up behind his pickup.

A shot rang out and the side mirror, right next to the man, exploded. He fell away from the door, hand up to shield his face. He was back on his feet in a split-second and behind the pickup just as fast.

“Hey, man! I thought we were having a friendly conversation here.” McQuinn yelled as he rubbed his cheek.

More men moved in toward our position. I counted nine and relayed the information to Joel. He nodded and made some hand gestures of his own in the direction of the hotel. That made me feel better. At least they had a plan of some kind.

“The next round is through your fucking head. Now turn around and go.”

Donny stopped hiding and popped up in the gun turret. He yanked back on the release and then fired five rounds at the pickup truck. The sound of the huge machine gun thundering in the mid-morning sent shivers up and down my spine.

So much for my shitty attempt at diplomacy.

This was bound to happen. The zombie fucking apocalypse was going to bring out the worst in people; it was inevitable. The same thing would happen during any catastrophe. You’d get your share of people helping out, of course. We saw that when the bombs exploded in Boston. We saw it when tornado after tornado leveled parts of Moore, Oklahoma. A lot of people helped out.

Then there were the other guys. Those who only gave a shit about themselves or how they could fuck others over. That’s who we were facing now.

I lifted the shotgun, held it over the top of the fence, and blasted. I wasn’t aiming for anything in particular, since I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just wanted them to know that we were all armed and ready.

I peeked back through my little hole and saw guys scrambling. They dropped to the ground in shock. Some thought to drag out weapons, but they’d just have a wall to shoot at. Or Donny, and no one seemed interested in taking on the HUMVEE.

Donny let loose with another short burst. The booming gun scared the shit out of me, and I couldn’t imagine how bad it would be out there, in the path of those huge rounds.

The lead asshole’s truck took all of the damage. Bullets punched into the hood and steam erupted through the grill.

Joel Kelly slipped to the gate, took a breath, then popped out and laid down a few rounds. He aimed low and hit a tire. Just like that, he was back behind the wall.

Donny stopped firing and all was quiet—except for the sounds of glass falling to the ground and guys calling back and forth in fear and confusion.

McQuinn ran to the choppers. He didn’t even look back.

“Get the fuck out of here or we’ll kill every one of you!” I yelled.

He jumped on the back of a motorcycle. The driver spun the bike around and roared off. A second truck backed up and attempted a half-donut that ended with the driver planting the ass of his pickup into a telephone pole. It fell over with a crash and crushed part of the truck.

Just like their arrival, their departure was fast and ugly. Within a minute or two, they were all headed back the way they’d come from. I wanted to cheer, but settled for shooting Joel Kelly a thumbs up.

Too bad our victory would be short-lived.

###

10:05 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

I sat down and wiped sweat off my forehead. So that was a battle? It was more like a one-sided ass whipping.

Joel stood over me as the last of the motorcycles roared away.

“Think they’ll be back?” I asked.

“Probably. We should clear out.”

“Are we safe?”

“Brother, we haven’t been safe since you carried your big ass down the stairs and interrupted my game of spades back on the McClusky.”

“But you have to admit, I have my moments.”

“Was that one of them? What were you trying to hit with the shotgun, a building? I think you even missed that.”

“Fuck you, Marine. I laid down cover fire.”

“When you lay down cover fire, you need to actually hit stuff.”

“Noise was on my side.”

Joel looked at me and then his eyes clenched tight for a split-second.

“What is it?” I asked.

He farted.

###

10:15 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We were crawling into our loaded vehicles when the rumble returned. We’d only taken ten or fifteen minutes, but it was long enough for the assholes to return with new trucks and their egos pumped up. I ran back to the wall and found my peep hole. What I saw scared me.

Markus was already hopping into the driver’s seat. He got back out, took a look, and swore.

“Shit. Just got the gun packed up.” He rummaged around in the HUMVEE again.

“I can only provide a little more fire. Maybe three or four bursts. We need a way out, and we need to stop as many of them as we can. Let’s make them pay for ground,” Donny said and slid in the back.

“We need a back door outta this place,” Joel said.

“Fence in the back. Can we blow it?” I asked.

When we made our new home, Fortress Mark II was the perfect location to keep Z’s out. The fence extended all the way around the building and the small parking lot. It wasn’t all that high, old cast iron, painted black, but it stopped the casual creeper from hitting us on our six.

We ran to the back of the building and made for the fence.

“Why the fuck won’t those guys leave us alone?”

“It’s gotta be the transport,” Joel said as I tried to keep up with him. “And maybe they think we have a lot of supplies. I think the main problem is that we hit them. We fucked with their pride and now they’re motivated.”

“Damn. Still doesn’t make sense.”

“That HUMVEE is worth its weight in gold right now. You’ve seen the world, Creed. You’ve seen what it’s become. The population’s been cut down to almost nothing and only the strong will survive and right now those guys want our strength.”

“So we should run.”

“They might not be trained and we are. Problem is, we’re a few and they’re a lot. Same shit happened on patrol. You’d have a bunch of well-trained Marines and all of the sudden you’re facing a larger and very determined Al Qaeda.”

The grass was all but dead where Joel knelt down and checked the fence. He pushed against it, rattled it, and then stood and rammed his shoulder into it. At ten foot intervals, metal posts had been driven into the ground. That made for enough reinforcement against even Joel Kelly, super Marine.

“Can we blow it up? Couple of grenades?”

“It’s worth a shot. We could put one at a post here.” He pointed.

“Another one here,” I said and stood ten feet away.

There was another parking lot next to ours, but it was for a small Mexican restaurant that had been gutted by fire. The open road lay beyond that, a clogged freeway even farther away.

“I’ll get Sails and the Chevy. You go and provide covering fire.”

I hobbled along behind Creed, my leg screaming with pain every time I took a staggering step. I’d turned my nose up at some Aleve earlier in the day, but right about now I’d pop half the bottle.

Joel explained the plan while Markus loaded his rifle. I stuck around for a few minutes but moved toward the fence when I heard rumbling.

They had a moving truck and it was coming up to speed. They’d put a piece of corrugated steel over the windshield with a small view-hole cut for the driver. Behind them, cars were flanked on either side, along with a couple of motorcycles.

“Christ, what did we do to these guys?” Roz asked.

“Like I said. We hurt their fucking pride,” Joel replied.

Shots erupted and bullets winged our way. They hit some of the parked cars but none of them struck the HUMVEE. A window shattered in the hotel. Falling glass tinkled around us.

Donny aimed the big gun and shot at the truck. He splashed hits across the hood, and a few punched through the corrugated shield. Against a .50 cal, it might as well have been paper, but we couldn’t see the driver. For all we knew, the guy was lying down and just keeping the wheel straight. If we had unlimited ammo, Donny could have turned the entire front into Swiss cheese. That would have bought us time.

Joel grabbed Christy and Roz. They dove into the Chevy with Sails once again behind the wheel. She gunned it and they zipped around the side of the building.

“Fall back. Move from cover to cover, but lay down lots of fire, Creed,” Markus said.

He lifted the sniper rifle and took aim.

Bullets splashed around him and that’s when I noticed a couple of guys were firing from inside cars. One of them was leaning all the way out so his entire torso was exposed. He wore some kind of armor like Joel.

It didn’t help.

Markus fired, and the big round punched into the guy’s chest. He didn’t throw his hands up in pain; he just slumped to the side and then fell out of the moving car.

Markus aimed again and fired at the truck.

Donny shot a few more rounds but the truck wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was gaining speed, and it was aimed right at the fence.

“Go time!” Donny yelled out and Markus moved.

He was almost at the HUMVEE when he spun around.

I moved behind a little hybrid we’d pushed out of the way yesterday and fired a few rounds, but it was like shooting at a brick wall. I hit, sure, but the truck wasn’t stopping.

Markus staggered to the HUMVEE, his hand on his shoulder. He managed to crawl inside and back the transport up. Donny shot until the .50 cal ran dry. He lifted an assault rifle, but slumped back as a round slammed through his head.

Blood blew out in a mist, something I’d become all too familiar with since this whole fucking nightmare started.

The HUMVEE kept backing up, even as the truck hit the fence. The rending crash shook the ground. The metal buckled and the gate flew apart.

I ran as fast as I could, damning my ankle, expecting to take a round in the back at any moment. I ducked around the corner of the hotel and got a face full of brick for my effort, thanks to a bullet exploding next to my head. I dove to the ground, rolled to the side, and got my back against the wall. The Mossberg flew, so I leaned over and snapped it up by the stock.

I blew out a quick breath and risked a look. The HUMVEE kept backing up as the truck came through. The collision stopped the HUMVEE and pushed it forward until it hit the side of the hotel. Markus opened the door and staggered out. He had his sidearm in hand and started firing before he was even on his feet. His shoulder bled, and he looked like he was in shock. It didn’t last long; a couple of rounds found him.

Fuck! If Joel didn’t get the fence down with a pair of grenades we were so screwed. These assholes wouldn’t bother to talk. They’d probably shoot Joel and me down and then go after the girls.

Wait. Grenades. Frags. I had a couple jammed in my pockets.

I practically whooped as I pulled one out and turned the nearly one pound ball of explosive. I gripped the handle against the side and yanked the pin. I slipped from behind the wall and threw like the big truck was home base.

The grenade sailed through the air but I was already taking the next one out. I pulled the pin and repeated my throw even as shots rang out and rounds exploded around me. I’d forgotten to yell “frag out!”

Then I was on the move.

My ankle screaming in pain, I put everything I had into getting out of the area and into the car. As far as I knew, Joel and crew were already blowing the fence and leaving me behind.

I bolted around the corner and almost took a round in the face, thanks to Sails. She had her handgun raised, and it was just as steady as it had ever been. How that small woman managed to hold a .357 with an eight inch barrel and not even show the strain was something else.

Behind me, the first explosion sounded. Two seconds later, the other grenade went off, followed by an even larger explosion that rattled my spine.

Joel and Roz were running like they were on fire. They dove behind the car, and Sails gave me a quick motion that seemed to say “get the fuck down!” I dropped to the ground.

The pair of grenades on the fence went off at about the same time. One tore the post away, but the blast must have nudged the other grenade, because it rolled away before exploding. I covered my head and hoped a piece of metal didn’t find it. Then I was back on my feet and staggering toward the car.

The chunk of fence was still in place, but was sheered away on one side. If the car missed, and hit one of posts on the left, the car wouldn’t go anywhere after that.

Joel looked at me, but it was Sails who broke and ran to my side.

I got to my feet and hooked my arm over her shoulder for support.

“Creed, ya big dummy. What did you do?”

“What had to be done,” was all I could think to say. Real heroic, right?

I might have been mistaken but I swear she turned her help into a halfhearted hug.

I crawled into the back right next to Christy and tried to shoot her and Roz a grin, but I was rattled. In the last fifteen minutes we’d gone from having a cozy home to driving off marauders, to facing almost certain death.

Sails hopped in the Chevy, and instead of ramming the fence she ripped the car to the right and did a one eighty.

“Down, you ox,” she said.

I dropped lower and Sails, eyes intent, punched it.

We raced backwards until the Chevy hit the curb. The car bounced up and I almost went with it. Roz got her hand up, and Christy reached for me and managed to grab my arm. She hugged me tight. Before I could think to catch my breath, we hit the remains of the fence and it slammed to the side. The rear of the car crunched, but we were free. Hitting the other parking lot was just as hectic, and this time I was bounced into the top of the car.

Sails yanked the car around and then shot between a pair of abandoned cars. She found her way out of the parking lot, and, instead of dealing with side streets, she made a beeline for the freeway, which lay over an expanse of dying grass and weeds.

“You okay, dude?” I asked Christy.

“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.” She held onto me like I was going to fall out of the car.

“Me too,” I said.

“What happened?” Joel turned to ask.

I gave them a quick account of the scariest two minutes of my life. Joel looked at me for a few seconds after I’d finished the story before cracking a smile.

“Goddamn Jackson Fucking Creed. I knew I’d make a Marine out of you. A couple of big ass transports hit, and that means a lot of gas. A lot of gas means a bigger explosion. Way to use your head, squid.”

“Oh yeah. Totally planned that.”

“What about…” Roz trailed off.

“Donny bought it while he was still behind the fifty cal. Markus came out shooting, but they got him. He didn’t even look surprised.”

Sails struck the dash a couple of times.

“I tried, Sails, really,” I said.

“It’s not that. Those guys were assholes, but they deserved better. Everything’s gone. The HUMVEE, our ammo, guns, food, water.” She trailed off, frowning.

“We have stuff in the trunk. Enough to get us by for a few days. I say we keep trying to make it to Los Angeles,” Joel said.

I nodded, then looked through the rear window.

We weren’t clear yet; the cars and motorcycles were finding a way around the hotel and heading toward us.

Entry #14 - Overdrive

13:50 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We ran for our lives.

The Chevy was a busted up mess. The hood was creased and we were leaking some kind of fluid. The bumper held on for dear life. At least one tire was losing air, and we were overloaded, so the car took forever to get up to speed. Then, just as we got some momentum, Sails would have to slam on the brakes and maneuver around an abandoned bunch of cars.

Joel Kelly cursed. I cursed. Sails cursed. Roz was the only one who kept her cool, looking over her shoulder at the mob of pissed off civilians behind the car.

The Chevy was running in the red. We’d hit empty. If the car was like most, that meant we had maybe a gallon of gas. Two if the car’s manufacturer planned for idiotic moments.

The other vehicles closed in on us.

I motioned for Christy to move closer to Roz and lowered the armrest. I had to lean all the way over but managed to work my arm into the trunk. I shifted stuff around until I got my hands on some bottles. Coca-Cola, a diet Sprite, and a Snapple. I handed them around, reached back in, and snagged water. Joel took the tea and practically drained the whole bottle in a couple of huge swallows. We might be minutes from death, but at least we’d die hydrated.

“We don’t have much time,” Joel said.

“We can make it to an exit, maybe find a way to ditch them. Find an open garage and hide. If we move fast, we can get the door shut,” Sails said.

I ripped through one bottle of water, then drained another.

Anna slowed once again and had to hit the shoulder to get around a pair of cars. The sports car must have been in a hurry, because it had hit a Fiesta so hard that the front looked like an accordion. It had flipped over onto its side. A car like that probably ran in the six-figure range. Like being stuck in the apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, this guy had wrecked his pride and joy.

No one moved in either wrecked vehicle.

“I don’t like it. Means we have to take a chance on finding the right neighborhood. We might make it a half mile off the road and run into a road block we can’t get around. Or we do make it around and then run out of gas. Those guys are going to be able to spot five people on the run. Bet on it,” Joel said.

I couldn’t argue.

“What if we jump out and let the car keep rolling? We can get to the other side of the freeway and find a new ride. Look at all those cars. Hell, there’s a Suburban that’s just ripe for the taking. Big and black.”

I grinned at Joel and waited for him to shoot me a one-liner, but I guess the stress had gotten to his sense of humor and shut that shit down.

“That’s good,” Roz said. “Beats the hell out of getting caught in the open.”

Sails got up to almost twenty miles an hour by driving over all the white reflective turtles and swerving between a bunch of wrecks, then she slammed on the brakes so she could cut to the left and find a way onto the shoulder. She had to get around a dozen-car pileup that would have been big news a few weeks ago. Now it was just a bunch of scrap metal that no one cared about.

The road behind us was a river of cars under a dull grey sky. Rain was coming. If we got stuck somewhere, we’d be cold and wet AND on the damn run.

The car sputtered and then caught, but our valiant steed managed to puff up another few hits of gasoline and carry us onward.

I didn’t know the first thing about horses, valiant or otherwise, but I bet they didn’t run out of gas unless you didn’t feed them.

“Shoulda got horses,” I said under my breath.

“Do you know how to ride?” Roz asked.

“Not a clue.”

“They wouldn’t be much use. Can’t exactly outrun a motorcycle.”

“I was just thinking out loud. Hell – horse, helicopter, gunship, big-ass tank, something other than this piece of shit car that’s running on fumes.”

“This car’s been a champ,” Sails said, glancing in the rearview mirror to catch my eye.

“I have a stupid idea,” I said after another few seconds of silence.

“Yeah?” Joel glanced at me.

I told them what I had in mind. Sails looked at me like I was bat-shit insane, but, after meeting my eyes once again, she nodded.

###

14:00 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The eighteen-wheeler took up most of the road. The driver must have really slammed on the brakes; the trailer had come to a stop at a thirty-degree angle. Sails hit the shoulder, then spun her wheel to the right and slammed the car to a halt the second we were obscured from view. Joel was already moving, grabbing his rifle and backpack. Roz jumped out with Christy in tow.

“Later dude,” I said and waved at Christy.

She tried to say something but her words were lost as the door shut.

“Don’t do anything fucking stupid out there,” Joel said as he kicked his door open.

“Fucking stupid is his middle name,” Sails said, cutting me off.

Joel reached over the seat and gripped my hand in his.

“Just stick to the plan.”

“You too, motherfucker. Don’t make me come find you and piss on your corpse.”

Joel was out the door and we were zipping away. Any longer and the gang on our ass would have caught on. This was a terrible idea. A horrible idea. I was hurt, could barely walk, but if Joel didn’t go with Roz, how would they get Christy away from the approaching shitstorm? I’d do just about anything to protect her.

I watched them fade against the side of the trailer, then take cover behind the wheels. Joel poked his head out and motioned. Roz and Christy kept low and rolled into the little gully that separated the two sides of the freeway.

I wondered if I’d ever see Joel Kelly again.

When I’d presented the plan, my great plan, the others had looked at me like I was crazy. Then Joel had nodded and pronounced it sound. Sails said she’d drive because she already felt like a chauffeur.

“I’ll go it alone,” I’d said.

“Don’t even think about it. You can barely walk.”

“It’s okay. I’m fast. I’ll just pull off the road and then disappear into an apartment complex or mall.”

“That’s your big play? Just disappear? I never figured you for the hero type,” Sails said.

“I have my moments.”

“He does. Like taking out those trucks at the hotel. Fucking brilliant.” Joel backed me up with a wink.

“I’m going with you, so let’s just jump to the part of the conversation where you stop saying no.”

“Oh, Sails. I’d never say no to you.”

She’d shot me an unreadable look in the rear view mirror.

Sails pushed the pedal to the floor; we burned out before the rear tires caught. Thirty seconds later, she had to slow down. Christ. We were back to the slowest cat and mouse freeway chase of all time.

We drew a quarter-mile away, then a half-mile. I waited, breath held, for the first of the jackwads to find Joel and company. If the Marine and the girls stuck to the plan, they would be pressed against the side of the gully, waiting until the road was clear.

My first order of business, as Joel had taught me, was to count rounds and weapons. We didn’t have a lot, thanks to losing the HUMVEE, but we had a couple of handguns and I still sported the Mossberg shotgun.

I counted out shells and found enough to reload the Mossberg and fill the rails.

I’d used all of the frag grenades.

I still had my Colt M45, but I was low on ammo.

“How you set for weapons, Sails?”

“Not great. I’ve got about twenty rounds for my three-fifty-seven. Joel left another gun. I think it’s a nine. Some kind of Sig. Cute little piece.”

“Sexy.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just an inside joke between me and Joel. We picked up the gun last week. It’s a long story.”

“Tell me later,” she said, but I couldn’t read her tone.

“Any rounds for the nine?” I asked.

“A spare mag, and I think we have a couple of boxes in the trunk. Keep digging.”

I did, but Sails had to yank the car to the left and right a couple of times and I nearly ended up on the floor. I reached into the trunk again and felt around until I found my backpack, then dragged it through the tiny opening. I pulled out my giant wrench and placed it on the seat next to me. There wasn’t much else in here. I’d had a small stash of food but that was gone. I still had the logbook, and I had a bag of weed I’d completely forgotten about, the brown bag that Joel and I had found during one of our missions, back when we’d been safe and sound inside of Fortress Mark I.

I glanced outside.

The jackwads were closing in at an impressive rate. One of the pickups was pushing through smaller wrecks to make a path. A couple of high-end motorcycles zipped around, but they seemed hesitant to close on us.

I went back to scrounging and finally located some shells. 9MM. The next box turned out to be a heavy one, packed with 5.56 shells. I put those in my backpack under the assumption that I’d be seeing Joel in the near future.

I wanted to keep feeling around but we were running out of road. Ahead of us lay a huge pile up of cars and trucks – so big that there was no way we’d be able to get around them.

I focused on the eighteen-wheeler we’d left far behind and was gratified to find that the jackwads, my new name for the assholes in pursuit, hadn’t stopped. That meant that Joel and the girls had managed to evade detection.

Part one of the mission accomplished.

Part two was going to be a bitch.

###

14:10 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“We’re out of time, Creed,” Sails said.

“What about there?” I pointed just ahead.

The off-ramp was jammed with cars. Rotting bodies lumbered between the abandoned vehicles. I marked the exit on my internal map, then reached for my log book and quickly jotted it on the back.

“No way we can get through that mess,” I muttered.

I looked back again, but the eighteen-wheeler was too far in the distance to make out.

The jackwads weren’t. They were closing, but they also had to pick their way around cars and wrecks the same way we’d had to. They had numbers on their side, though, and could take alternate paths where available. We had maybe a quarter-mile of breathing room, and I didn’t see how we could possibly stop the car and be effective on foot. My big play had been with the knowledge that my ankle and foot were a throbbing mess and that I’d be unable to run. I was hoping something would just pop up, some stroke of genius.

Turned out, that was Sails’ department.

“No. Look at where the railing is broken. Someone pushed over the curb.” She motioned to a part of the freeway a bit closer.

She was right, but the opening led to a big drop. Even if we did manage to survive, we’d surely have broken bones, maybe a snapped neck or two to contend with. I could see it now: lying in a pool of blood while those asshole stood over us and laughed at our soon-to-be corpses. Maybe they’d be nice and give us a quick exits, bullets to our brains. More than likely, we’d have to face that McQuinn guy, his bald head gleaming in the morning sun while he pummeled us, laughing maniacally.

“Are you crazy, Anna? That drop’ll kill us.”

“We’re not going to be in the car, Jackson.”

“So now that we’re on a first name basis and all, mind telling me how you plan to get the fuck out of a moving car?”

“We’re going to dive out just before it hits the overpass and we’re going to be going fast. It has to look real, like we made a mistake.”

“Are you crazy? That shit wouldn’t even work for Bruce Willis,” I groaned.

“Just hear me out,” she said and then laid out the entire plan.

“Alright, Sails. I got nothing better.”

“Jackson, what’s wrong with using my first name? Too confusing?”

“Yeah. I got a one track mind. Guys in the military use last names, but friends use first names - sometimes. There aren’t any rules.”

“Call me whatever you want, Creed. Just don’t call me late for a three course meal at Sizzler.”

“You didn’t use my first name that time. What, we aren’t friends?”

“You have two last names. What’s your middle name? Oh…right.” She shot me a shit-eating grin in the rearview mirror.

###

14:15 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

I dug out some soda and stuffed a can in my front pocket. Anna popped the top of one and drained it while we maneuvered around a car that had bodies lying across its hood. As we roared away, one of the bodies twitched. A head covered in gore – one eye smashed in the socket, the other dangling by its nerve bundle – turned after us.

A motorcycle closed to within fifteen feet, so I lifted Anna’s hand gun, aimed through what was left of the rear window, and fired three rounds at his bike. The last one hit the front tire, and then he was flying through the air.

My ears rang like a bitch, but it was worth it. That would teach them to stay back.

We neared the section of the road Sails had pointed out. It was just before the off-ramp and, with the exception of two vehicles, was clear of major debris. Now that we were away from the city, lines of trees were starting to form up on either side of the freeway. We would be smart to get lost in them if we survived the next few minutes.

I moved to the right side of the car while she worked the case of soda around with her feet until she got it where she wanted it – right next to the gas. Stupid crap car didn’t even have cruise control, so we settled for something a little more permanent: a weight on the pedal.

I put my backpack on, held onto the wrench with one hand and clutched the shotgun to my chest with the other. Sails holstered her gun and leaned across the long seat to pop open the passenger door.

“After we hit, we move fast. Duck and cover. Got it?”

I cracked open the door and eyed the ground as we sped over it.

At ten or fifteen miles an hour, I knew it would probably hurt. That was logical. I didn’t, however, count on it feeling like I was being tossed against a brick wall by a professional wrestler.

The asphalt met me with gruesome glee. I struck it with my elbow, rolled as I tried to bleed off some momentum, and ended up smacking the back of my head into the ground. I got a glimpse of a pair of clouds, but they disappeared as I tumbled on. It was like they were mocking me.

Anna Sails did a lot better than me. Where I was all battering arms and legs, she was an elegant dancer. She made the art of jumping out a moving car look like a modern ballet. She hit the ground on her side, tucked her arms, and spun over three or four times.

I came away with enough bruises to look like I’d been pounded by a boiler tech.

Our car found its way between the two others in its path, hit the overpass, and sailed into the air. It crashed below with a crump. There was no special-effects explosion, no rending of metal. It just fell with as much grace as can be expected from a thirty-year-old Chevy that was rode hard and put away wet.

I staggered to my hands and knees and shimmied behind the nearest vehicle. I was still seeing stars but at least I was mobile. Anna looked me over, then nodded.

We’d ended up next to an SUV that housed a couple of the dead. Two bodies hung out of a broken passenger window. A line of cars stretched all the way to our position at the very beginning of the off-ramp.. I spotted the first of the creepers a second and a half later. He was covered in gore and being followed by a kid a few years younger than Christy. They were about a hundred yards away and didn’t see us. I let out a sigh of relief as we continued to pick our way from hiding spot to hiding spot, but with each step my foot screamed in pain. My knees hurt and my elbow was numb.

I’d done a good job of holding onto the Mossberg. The stock was banged up pretty bad and the sides were scraped, but I didn’t find any sign of the barrel being blocked.

We kept the bikers on our six and hustled. Up in a crouch, we moved from the cover of one car to another. The jackwads would be here soon, and I had a feeling our little stunt wouldn’t fool them for long.

A fresh group of Z’s broke from the tree line. This time it wasn’t just a pair. There were six, and they were playing follow the leader just like the previous two.

“Not good,” Anna Sails said.

We had them at twelve o’clock. McQuinn’s guys were closing in.

“Any way we can go over the side, maybe hide?” I tried to peer over, but even if there was a small ledge we could hide on, anyone checking out the wreck would just have to glance sideways to see us. Then it would be a shooting gallery, and we would be the targets.

“Don’t think so. Shit, Jackson, this is not what I had in mind.”

“Really? Because I thought this whole jumping out of the car thing would end well for us.”

The traffic jam was so bad that, even if we managed to find a car with the keys in it – and we managed to get inside and the gas hadn’t gone stale and we cleared the bodies out and the car started – we’d still be stuck, because the cars ahead or behind were either separated by a few inches or had actually been stopped due to impact.

The next mob of Z’s was four times the size of the last one. They came out of the trees and staggered after the first two groups.

“Last stand?” Sails pulled a handful of shells out of her pocket.

“Wait. I have an idea. It’s a shitty one, but I can’t think of anything else.”

“Yeah? I’m all ears,” she said.

I didn’t have time to explain, so I called out to the army of the dead.

“Psst!” I hissed loud enough to catch one or two Z’s attention. A little noise went a long way in this undead world.

A man craned his neck around to get a look at me and then broke from the pack. A woman, bloated with rot, followed.

“What the fuck!” Anna hissed.

“Follow me,” I said and moved around her.

I hobbled to a pile of corpses next to a blood-splattered Suburban and tugged out the freshest looking corpse. He’d been dead for a few days, at least, and was already smelling pretty wretched. The guy was big and round. I dragged him off the pile. Another body lay next to the big truck, so I grabbed his pant leg and pulled until I could see beneath the vehicle.

“Under. I’m right behind you,” I said.

Anna Sails looked at the bodies, looked at the tiny space, and then turned pale.

“No fucking way am I getting under there.”

“Want to stay here and explain to the guys we just shot and blew up that you aren’t looking for any trouble and just want to be on your way?”

She stared at me for a full five seconds. Motorcycles closed in on our location with a loud rumble, and that really got the army of undead’s attention.

They came toward us in a slow stagger, milky eyes focused on our flesh.

Sails made a disgusted noise and crawled under the truck. I watched her slim form until it was completely out of sight.

I yanked out my knife and placed the point on the dead guys belly, pushed it in, and cut up until I hit his rib cage.

Putrid intestines erupted from the wound, carrying shit and black blood. I used his shirt sleeve to dig in and grab his stomach. I dragged that out and let it flop across his lap.

A form lurched inside of the car and slammed hands against the driver side window.  Eyes, green and wild with hatred followed me as I dropped to the side of the big vehicle. Before I slid under, I smeared blood on the door handle and door. I slid in next to Sails and then pulled the body next to me. There was barely any visible light thanks to the pile of bodies on either side of the SUV.

I turned until I was facing Sails but didn’t say a word. I swear that I could still feel her eyes burning into me.

We waited. I did my best to keep the contents of my own stomach in place.

###

14:25 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“So they went over the side. Great. Let’s call it a day. I told McQuinn this was a shitty idea. ‘Just let ‘em be,’ I said. ‘They got a big ass gun in there and those are some hard looking men.’ But noooo. He just had to stop by and say howdy, then start tossing threats around.”

“He’s just doing what’s best for us. We can’t keep this moving around stuff up forever. That HUMVEE was priceless, man. With enough ammo we’d have been able to hold off hundreds of the dead.”

The two men had stopped their bikes a few feet from our hiding spot, hopped off, and pushed their kickstands down. They walked up and down the line of vehicles, peering into cars, and pushing at the bodies on the ground.

I watched them from under the vehicle, my eyes finding a space between a corpse’s broken arm and a dead woman’s arched neck. Sails was moving next to me, her hands busy. I didn’t need to see her to know that she was removing her gun from its holster. We were in a terrible spot with the other side of the SUV butted up against the side of the off-ramp’s concrete wall. We had one way out, and that was the way we’d come.

“Look at this. Guy’s been ripped open.”

“Maybe their car hit it?”

“No, look at him. Blood everywhere and his guts ripped out.”

“Zombies, man. Here they come, too.”

“Something’s not right.”

The sound of lurching feet. Chattering of teeth. Groans and moans. The Z’s I’d called to were closing in on our position. This could go a couple of ways. The men would run or the Z’s would keep coming and overwhelm them. Something told me that the guys would take off. It’d been weeks since the zombie fucking apocalypse arrived and survivors didn’t last for long if they sat around waiting to be eaten.

“Let’s go, man. Fuck this. Tell McQuinn that they went over the side and that’s that.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” the guy said and poked his gun inside the SUV as he opened the door.

Wrong move, asshole.

He screamed and fell back as a corpse shot out of the truck.

The woman was small and fast. Wiry. I got a look at her arms as she flailed, and they were all ripped skin and exposed sinew. Muscles and tendons flexed as she moved.

The second guy let out a little scream and then fired. His shot went wide.

“Easy,” I whispered to Sails.

She had moved right next to me and put her arm over me with her big .357 in hand. She rested it on my chest while she pushed her body against mine and craned her head over my neck to see the action. As well formed as Anna was, the last thing I could think about was how good she felt pressed into me.

The first guy went down while his buddy maneuvered around them, trying to get another shot. The shuffler thrashed its arms and legs, bit, snarled and spat. Its mouth dove in for a taste and got one in the form of the man’s nose – just the tip, but it was enough.

The shuffler was lifted off and tossed to the side by the man’s companion. They opened up with their guns, but the shuffler did something I never would have expected. Instead of going for an enraged attack, it hopped behind the cover of a car. The two men advanced, firing, and disappeared from my limited view.

“Jesus Christ, Jackson. We need to get the hell out of here,” Sails whispered next to my ear.

I grabbed her forearm and held on tight. I meant it to be reassuring and not restraining.

“Just hold on. They’ll move on soon, or die trying,” I whispered.

“What if that shuffler figures out that we’re hiding out under here?”

“Then we shoot it in the fucking face,” I replied under my breath.

The men drifted back into view as they looked for the shuffler. Noise behind Sails made me turn my head. I couldn’t see anything, though, because the other side was completely dark.

More shots rang out. The pair came back into view. The guy who was attacked spat blood.

“Hank. Damn, man. Did that thing get you?”

More shots, but the shuffler danced away.

The two men stood side by side, hands up as they pointed their guns. They backed up together, but the bitten one staggered. He fell to his knees. I could see him staring right at us as a bubble of blood touched his lips and then drooled down his chin. He tried to say something, but the words were choked off by another burst of blood.

The guy raised his gun and tried to aim at us, but his arm faltered and the barrel dropped. He reached for his neck, like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes clenched in pain and he bent over, coughing until it turned into a choking sound.

“I’m sorry, Hank. Real sorry, man, but you know the rules.”

A single gunshot rang out. The guy collapsed to the side as the bullet tore through his head.

There was a scream and the shuffler was on top of the shooter. They went down in a heap, the man fighting for his life. His gun went flying but he managed to jam his forearm into the shuffler’s neck. He pushed.

The monster was lifted briefly, but then it drove down with freakish force. The man’s arm collapsed and the shuffler’s head dove in, seeking flesh.

The man let out a scream of horror and tried to wrap his legs around the shuffler. His hands held the Z’s neck and squeezed, but the shuffler thrashed from side to side and slipped loose.

The shuffler ripped into flesh, tearing chunks out while McQuinn’s man continued to howl in pain. The first Z arrived and fell forward to gorge. A few moments of struggling ensued and the guy tried to scream, but it came out a gurgle from the hole in his throat.

The shuffler turned its head as it chewed a chunk of flesh and looked me right in the eye.

I swear the nasty fuck smiled at me through blood and drool.

I didn’t dare breathe, didn’t blink, and didn’t move. Every muscle in my body was tense. Anna moved her gun as she tried to bring the shuffler into sight.

Before she could start shooting, the rumble of cars and motorcycles reached us. The rest of McQuinn’s men had arrived.

Entry #15 - Seclusion

14:40 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

When McQuinn’s men arrived, it was in force, and they weren’t shy with their weapons. If the shuffler got away, I didn’t see it. After what seemed like forever, the bullets stopped flying.

Then it was just a waiting game.

I closed my eyes and dozed as the men we’d been evading moved around the area. Sure, you’re thinking that I’d be nuts to try and get a few winks, but let me tell you about life in the US Navy. I’d been on more than one fast cruise and I’d gone for days without real sleep while the ship was put through her paces. Constant drills, people always up in our shit, and never-ending cleaning. No one got rest, because it wasn’t exactly a nine to five job. I remember the longest I’d stayed awake was a consecutive thirty-six hours. After that I’d crawled on top of the oil storage containers, safely hidden from roving eyes, and taken a nap.

Of course I got caught, but that was to be expected. I did my job in the Navy but I was also kind of a fuck up. That little nap cost me a couple of days in Thailand.

I didn’t sleep; I just drifted while Anna Sails lay beside me. I’d have preferred a bed or sleeping bag, but as long as we were alive I’d settle for her arms around me and the hard cold asphalt.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Sails reminded me more than once.

“I have an idea. After this, let’s get pizza,” I whispered.

“Gonna kick your ass when we get out of here,” she whispered back.

“If we get out of this, I’ll let you try.”

“You’ll let me?” She poked me in the side.

“Yeah. You’re all of five-foot-four, right? If I take your gun, how will you get it back when I’m holding it seven feet off the ground?”

“How about I just stab you in the groin?”

“How about you don’t. I like my groin.”

And on it went as we whispered back and forth to keep from going insane.

McQuinn’s men swept the area a couple of times while they put down the Z’s I’d lured to the scene. There wasn’t a lot of talk. A couple of guys went over the wall, checked on the car, dragged our hard-earned supplies up, and tossed them into trucks.

The action had drawn a lot of attention. They came from around homes, beside cars, and from the road below. The dead got wind of the jackwads and wanted to eat. The moans rose around us as they closed in.

Finally, a beat-up truck puttered to a halt, and out jumped someone familiar.

Sails and I lay in silence as the men above spoke.

“Did you find them?” It was McQuinn.

“Nope. Not in the car. I don’t know how they survived that,” one of the guys said.

“Probably crawled out and got dragged away and eaten,” another chimed in.

“Hmm,” McQuinn muttered.

“You guys sweep the buildings down there? Could be they got out before the car went over the side.”

“Yeah. We looked, but gave up when the fucking rotters showed. We should go.”

Sails kept her arm steady on my chest, hand in a death grip on her gun. The weight of the long barrel wasn’t really reassuring. If she started firing, I’d probably lose some skin.

McQuinn didn’t move. From our vantage, I couldn’t tell what he was doing.

“I hope they survived,” he said.

“Why?”

“I want to personally execute each one of them while the rest watch.”

“That’s cold, man.”

“Fuck them. They cost us a lot,” he said.

After a minute of silence he finally got back in his truck and roared away. Other engines joined them. We waited in breathless anticipation for something to go wrong. I was tense because I was convinced this was some kind of trick. As soon as we came out they’d be waiting with guns and shit-eating grins. I shifted the shotgun out of the crook of my arm because the pressure had cut off the blood flow and made my hand numb.

I reached up, found Anna’s hand, and gave it a quick squeeze. She squeezed back.

###

15:40 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

“That guy’s an asshole. He reminds me of someone we ran into last week.  Joel and I came across these two guys who were dragging female Z’s off the street and using them…you know. Fucking animals.”

“What the hell? What did you guys do?”

“Me and Joel took care of them, and I don’t mean we left them breathing. But is that what the world’s come to? Monsters like that?”

“So, what, you took matters into your own hands?” she asked.

“Yeah. We did.”

“How is that different from what McQuinn and those clowns are doing?”

I’d planned to have some catchy one-liner for when she called me a hero. Something cool, like “mess with the best, die like the rest.” Instead, I choked on silence. Warmth rose into my cheeks.

“Were we supposed to just let them keep that shit up?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, but who made you the sheriff?”

“No one. They started shooting first.”

“So why not fuck off and leave them alone?”

I didn’t have an answer, so we lay in silence for a few minutes.

“It was wrong. Just wrong. I don’t care if those things are mindless animals. They deserved something better than being tied to a couch and screwed by those rapist assholes.”

“Jesus.”

A creeper lumbered past our hiding place. His left foot was cocked at an angle and he dragged it with each staggering step. My tiny window allowed me to track him for a few more seconds before he faded from sight.

“I’m not going to apologize. Besides, we left them alive. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“The leader took a shot to the gut. I hit the other one so hard he couldn’t talk right. So we dragged them to the pile of rotting Z’s they’d created in the kitchen and left them.”

“Always going to be good guys and bad guys. Which are we?” she asked.

“Me? I’m a bad guy trying to be good.” I tried for my best Clint Eastwood impression and came up lacking.

“That’s real deep, Jackson. Have you thought about writing a book?”

“I am. Kinda.” I told her about the log book I’d been writing in every day.

“What did you say about me?”

“That you’re a gun-wielding, take-no-shit ball buster.”

“I am not!” She elbowed me, but I thought she might be smiling.

“I wrote that you were pretty cool even though you did hit Joel in the face and threaten to shoot him when we were back in the helicopter.”

“I overreacted. Lee’s the kind of leader that doesn’t like to be called out.”

“Yeah. About that.”

“Don’t start that again. I told you, I saw the results myself. If the kid turned inside that helicopter, what would happen? What if he was laying there, all quiet, and you leaned over to ask him how he was feeling? Kid sits up and takes a bite of your face, then we have to shoot you and him.”

“His name was Craig and he was just a sad kid. He’d just lost his family,” I said.

“He’s not the only one that’s lost people.”

I wanted to find anger, but it was hard to when I knew she was right. I settled for staring at the underbelly of the SUV a half-inch from my nose.

###

18:10 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

After what seemed like a whole day I decided we’d waited long enough.

I pushed the body away from the side of the car, then shimmied out and shoved away a couple of body parts.

I had my head sticking out in the air like fresh bait. If a couple of Z’s had been near us, I’m sure they would have been on me in a heartbeat.

I heaved myself out of the coffin-like space and took a deep breath. It still smelled terrible, but at least the light breeze made the odor a little thinner. I leaned out and offered my hand to Sails. She looked at it for a second and then accepted, so I pulled her out.

We stood and stretched, looking around for movement.

I considered our options. If we walked back, it would take hours. If we found a new ride, we’d probably be able to get back in thirty minutes. I pointed at a gas station near the off-ramp. Behind it were a few trees and a large complex of some sort.

“Try for it?” I asked.

“Might as well. I don’t want to be out in the open for any longer than we have to.”

We moved out.

###

18:30 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We covered each other as we made our way to the bottom of the ramp. Anna moved with the same precision and self-awareness I’d seen Joel exhibit on many occasions. She was cautious, but she strode forward when she saw openings. We neatly avoided a group of Z’s intent on devouring the remains of a family of four. They’d gone down fighting, but they’d gone down.

We used abandoned cars for cover and avoided looking inside. Seeing a Z’d-up kid scratching at the glass was a sure way to get creeped out, even after weeks of being around the crawling corpses.

I followed Sails’ lead as she gestured for me to move ahead or guard her back. We avoided another small pack intent on chasing down a dog. The dog was smarter and a hell of a lot faster than any white-eyed snarling Z.

I wished I had fast legs like that. The dog cut to the right and stopped. He sat back on his haunches, tongue hanging out as he panted, and he…what? Waited?

The Z’s closed in, one falling only to be stomped by his uncaring companions.

The dog barked and then took off again.

He was fucking with the dead.

The dog led them off and I made a mental note to find something for the guy to eat if he came back our way.

We dashed down a tree-lined side street, past houses spray painted with graffiti, doors hanging open, windows broken, and innards tossed onto yards and porches.

At the center of the avenue we found a building that boasted a gated entryway. The front door was open, but the building itself, while looking like every other piece of shit apartment complex I’d ever seen in California, hadn’t been entirely beat to hell.

A pile of bodies lay at the bottom of the stairs; maybe that was the warning to any who ventured there. With Anna covering me, I tiptoed inside and then waited in darkness for many long minutes. Silence. Nothing stirred.

With pounding hearts, we made for the stairs.

###

18:40 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We crept to the stairs and made our way to the second floor. The first had been ransacked. Doors stood open, and I didn’t want to try sneaking into one to find a pack of Z’s or worse, a few shufflers.

The second and third floor had been hit as well, but at least the apartments hadn’t been completely picked over. I finally chose a room at random and poked my head inside. Anna took position beside me and then dropped low. I went in with the Mossberg ready, the stock planted against my shoulder.

The kitchen was on the right and a hallway ran to the right. I held up my hand and Anna stopped next to me. She closed the door with a soft click and we waited in the dark for a few minutes. When I felt like I had my night vision up to par, I leaned into the kitchen and tapped the barrel of the shotgun against the counter just once and then we waited.

Sounds filtered in from the outside. The moans and howls of the dead sent chills up my back. If they’d seen us and were headed our way, we were now officially stuck. We might be able to go out a back window, but how would we get down? Probably not enough time to tie sheets together.

Nothing moved inside the apartment, so we made a sweep.

The first bedroom had been tossed. Sheets torn off the bed, blankets in a pile, drawers open, an empty and discarded suitcase, clothes everywhere. Someone had left in a hurry.

The next bedroom looked about the same, except for the addition of a rotting body on the floor. Sails pushed it with a foot, and when it didn’t get up and try to devour us, she covered it with a blanket. We closed that door behind us, cutting off some of the cloying scent of rot.

The last bedroom was in one piece. I checked under the bed, because don’t fucking judge me.

The living room had a two piece sectional in some kind of off-white leather. A little bit of daylight filtered in through the rear sliding glass door. There was a balcony with a small grill and a satellite dish. What I wouldn’t give to crash on the couch with a dumb action movie playing. On second thought, I was living an action movie.

We moved a chair into the hallway and wedged it under the doorknob. If someone wanted to get in, they’d make a hell of a lot of noise.

I took a breath and sat on the couch. My ankle ached, so I put it up and then just zoned out for a minute – or maybe an hour.

Sails moved around the apartment checking kitchen cabinets and drawers. She gave a little whoop, then brought back a few items and tossed them onto the couch. She went back and brought more.

My stomach rumbled to life when I found little bags of chips, granola, some fruit roll ups, and a couple of flat packets containing tuna fish. One of those went into my mouth first, right after I’d ripped the top open with shaking hands.

We didn’t talk for the first few minutes as we ate. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give this one about a five for healthy eating. It got a fucking eleven for deliciousness.

“How is it that this place still has food?” I wondered out loud.

“You saw the bodies below. I think the building was well guarded until recently,” Anna said.

“Maybe. Or could be someone else is away from his post but will be returning soon.”

“Maybe. The way I see it, we have about twelve hours. Wanna watch a movie?” I gestured at the big screen mounted on the wall.

“As long as it’s not a fucking zombie movie,” Anna replied.

I choked on a cracker, then took a swig of one of the warm Cokes she’d found in the fridge.

Anna moved to the hallway and poked through a few closets. She returned a minute later with a couple of LA Kings blankets and tossed me one. I wrapped it around my shoulders and reveled in the feeling of warmth returning to my body.

“I’d sit by you, but you smell like a car mechanic,” Anna said.

“That’s not so bad.”

“And death. You literally smell like death.”

“Oh.”

“I wonder if the toilet would stand up to a flush. I’ll test it first,” she said and left the room.

I sat in silence and thought about what we’d lost in the past twenty four hours. The HUMVEE. Markus and Donny. We’d lost our new fortress and now we’d lost our way. We knew that there was a force in LA, and we could probably find refuge there. But as far as I knew, Anna Sails had no idea where they were located. So we had no next play. No safe haven waiting for us. Like the first week or so, we were on our own.

“Holy shit!” Anna shouted.

I heaved myself to my feet and snagged my wrench, then hobbled down the hallway.

She was standing in the bathroom, staring at the sink. The water was running and she had her hand under the stream. Sails, with her hair hanging over her face as she stared in shock, looked beautiful.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and then realized just how stupid I was.

I rushed to the other side of the vanity and tested the other sink. Water, cold and flowing freely, hit my hand. I ducked my mouth next to it and took a tentative sip. Then I gulped.

“How’s this even possible?” she asked.

“Probably residual water pressure. Maybe it’ll take a little longer to go out. Could be days. Could be hours, for all we know.” I honestly didn’t have an explanation. Did this place have some kind of backup generator hooked to a pump?

Anna drifted to the shower and stared at it for a few seconds before sliding the glass door aside and turning on the water. She let it run for a few seconds and then shut it off.

“You first, and don’t be shy with that soap.”

I laughed when I looked at the wire rack hanging from the shower nozzle and found some decidedly feminine products like conditioner, pre-conditioner, and liquid soap with a bunch of flowers on the label.

“Gonna be cold, but I don’t even care,” I said, unbuttoning the nasty shirt I’d worn for the last few days.

“We should wash those,” Anna said, looking up at me.

I slid the shirt off and held it out with two fingers. This damn thing would be better in the trash than in the wash. Maybe I’d turn up some clothing that fit once we went through the rest of the apartment. I missed my overalls. They had been thick and kept all the gore off.

Anna watched me from the doorway but didn’t say another word. I reached for the button on my pants, and that’s when she turned and closed the door.

I shrugged and leaned over to drop what was left of my pants. I nearly fell as I tried to balance but keep the pressure off my sore ankle, and managed to stumble into the sink, banging my leg into the sharp edge. That got a few choice words.

“You alright in there?”

“Yeah. Just having trouble with my damn leg. Ankle gave out.” I gritted my teeth.

“I’ll see if I can find something to wrap it.”

I turned on the shower and spun it all the way to hot, then had a brief fantasy of steaming water belting out.

I put my hand under the cold stream and sucked in a breath. This wasn’t going to be much fun. I manned up and stepped under the water. It was like I’d been tossed in the ocean off the coast of San Diego all over again. I gasped and hooted then went for the soap.

I was halfway through scrubbing my face when I heard a noise. Blinking away suds and water, I found a shape in the room.

“Don’t even say a damn word, Jackson. Not a word,” she said as she slipped, naked, into the shower with me.

She pushed me aside and let the water run over her hair and face.

Anna stood there, her pale form all hips and legs, waist and butt, for me to gaze at. She grabbed the soap and then scrubbed as quickly as she could.

I turned her around and pushed her against the wall. She looked up at me and used both hands to brush water off her face. We both shivered. I didn’t say a word, just like she’d asked. Instead, I leaned in and kissed her.

###

21:00 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We lay together on the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. I was exhausted but grinning like a guy caught in a cookie jar filled with gold. After our shower, I didn’t feel like braving someone else’s bedroom, so I took her hand in mine and tugged her to the main room. Then Anna had showed me that she had a very soft side, and for a while we didn’t have to talk.

“Can I speak now?”

“I don’t know if I should let you start. Will you shut up at some point?”

“You hurt me, Sails.” I chuckled.

“Not yet, but I might.”

She pushed against me and got me all worked up again. She sat on top and looked down at me.

“Okay,” I said. “Hurt me.”

###

21:50 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

“Are you ever going to tell me about Bright Star? Do you guys have a secret decoder ring or something?” I asked before I drifted off.

“Not much to tell. I came in a few weeks ago. Fresh recruit. They don’t talk a lot. We just go where we’re told.”

“But this thing. This nightmare that’s killing the world. Where did it start?”

Anna didn’t move for a half-minute, then she spoke. “I heard it was Afghanistan. Some kind of test, but not by us. Someone brought it there. We followed some leads and found a village that was occupied by something like the Z’s we’ve seen. The villagers had them tied down, but the things were just…Fuck. They were barely human.”

“Like we’ve seen.”

“Not quite,” she said and blew out a breath. “They were still alive. They had big open sores, but their eyes had gone milky white. They had a pulse, but it was so slow it was barely there. We took blood samples while those that were unaffected screamed at us to leave their family members alone. The things barely moved except to reach for us.”

“That is messed up.”

“I thought they were begging, but now I know. They wanted flesh. It’s like they see what they used to be and want to have that back.”

“I don’t get it. How did they become infected?” I asked.

“Not sure. Rumors. Some kind of chemical attack and an experimental drug to help the wounded. We didn’t do it. The Afghani’s brought it in from somewhere. Lee thinks it was used in a coordinated attack against the US.”

“Lee, huh.”

“He’s a good leader and knows when to make tough choices.”

It was all I could do to clench my jaw shut and not say a word.

“We responded when things started to break down. We gathered as much of Bright Star as we could and established a pair of bases here,” Anna continued.

“The first base is gone.”

“Yeah. But I hope the second is still there.”

“Where?”

“Near LA. I know the general area, but it’s a big city. We might drive right past it,” she said.

“So you knew the location that Donny and Markus had in mind?”

“I think so. Like I said, I know the general area. It’ll be better than this.”

“Better than being in bed with me?” I gave her my best wounded look.

Anna thumped my chest.

“Shut up, you,” she said gently. “It’s better than running and hiding. What if that gang comes back and finds us? What if we run into five hundred Z’s? It’s dangerous, and our best bet is to be with others. They have a chain of command and, hopefully, a plan.”

“No one plans for this,” I said.

“You’d be surprised what they plan for.”

“I didn’t plan on this,” I said. “You and me.”

“Yeah, well…shit happens. Just go to sleep, Creed, before you say something fucking stupid.”

“Fucking stupid is my middle name,” I quipped and got another thump.

It was worth it.

I can barely keep my eyes open. Anna sleeps next to me, but I can’t stop thinking about this amazing turn of events. Damn Anna Sails. A few days ago, I wanted to hate her. Now I am sleeping with her.

Tomorrow’s going to be a long walk back.

Time to call it a night.

Entry #16 – New Attitude

07:20 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

I woke up feeling like I’d taken a beating. My back was a mass of knots. My legs were so sore I could barely swing them off the side of the couch. My neck ached and my head was pounding.

Anna was already up and moving around the apartment, dressed in nothing but panties and bra. I decided that I could watch her all day. She shifted the living room’s blinds to the side.  I groaned when the sun hit me.

Birds chirped and called. Somewhere, a crow was bitching about something. He was probably trying to peck the eyes out of some corpse and the corpse tried to eat him.

Last night this room had been a refuge. In daylight it was barely above shit hole material. The couch was worn and the recliner, which had looked so inviting, was half-covered in blood. The rest of it was a flattened mess of what had once been cushions.

“Just kill me now,” I mumbled.

“Get up, lazy squid.”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me,” I said.

Anna’s eyes darkened and she moved to the couch. Most of me was still buried under a pile of blankets and had no interest whatsoever in leaving them.

She leaned over and stared into my eyes for a few seconds. I stared back.

“How about if I stick a knife in your balls?”

“That’s what I like about you, Anna. You’re hot when you’re angry.”

Her lips parted in a smile that she tried to quickly hide.

“Just because of last night. Just because of that. Don’t think that you have any power over me. It was mutual.”

“Then let’s mutually agree that you need to get back under these covers.”

Anna knelt next to me and put one of her hands on my cheek. She ran it over my head and scruffy beard, then she leaned over and planted a quick peck on my chest.

“I don’t want to get too close to you. Do you understand that?”

“Why not?”

She looked away for a moment. Her eyes tightened and her lips parted. She sucked in a breath.

“Because it’s dangerous. It sucks out there, Creed. I’ve seen what happens to loved ones. Seen it firsthand. Seen them dragged into a pile of dead and devoured and not been able to do a fucking thing about it.” She trailed off.

“So you’re going to live the rest of your life in a bubble? Fuck it, Anna. We might both buy it today. Enjoy life while you can.”

“It’s not that easy. I had a family. Kids. I saw them die. Devoured. And there was nothing I could do. They died screaming. Do you know what that does to a person? It breaks them, Creed. It kills them.”

I swung my legs over the side of the couch and took her in a gentle embrace. She held me for all of fifteen seconds, then stood and went into the kitchen. Her eyes were tight and they didn’t meet mine.

###

07:30 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

Anna had gone through the apartment earlier and dug out some clothing. She left me with some fresh boxers that were a little too small but still welcome. She’d found some white socks and even a few T-shirts. Those were also too small, but I slid a shirt over my chest and stretched it out.

I was dressed and testing my swollen ankle when Sails came back. She had a ball of something in one hand.

“Give me your foot,” she said and pulled a footstool next to the couch.

She poked and prodded at my swollen ankle.

“Ow,” I said, even though it didn’t hurt that much. I was so used to hobbling around and ignoring the pain that this was nothing.

“Not good. I’m going to wrap it. I found a bottle of ibuprofen. That should help with the pain and swelling a little bit.”

“Didn’t know you were a nurse.”

“I’m not, so pray I don’t have to dig a bullet out of you.”

“You can dig a bullet out of me anytime.” I grinned.

“Were you dropped on your head at some point?”

“Probably.”

She wrapped the bandage around my foot and leg until she had my ankle secured.

“Put your leg up for a while. I’ll bring you some food.”

“That’s real domestic of you, Anna,” I said.

“Be nice or I’ll add rat poison,” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

###

07:55 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where CA, Undead Central

Our breakfast could have been worse. We ate protein bars and washed them back with some silver packs of juice. I bit the corner of the first one and drained it in one go. Despite claiming to be some kind of fruit juice, it tasted like sugar-water, and that was just fine by me. The second one went down just as smooth. This shit would be perfect with some vodka.

“I don’t suppose you found any booze in this place?”

“Some cooking sherry.”

“Some cooking what?”

“It’s some kind of sweet wine.”

I made a face.

There was a canister of smoke-flavored almonds. They were stale but I ate them by the handful. Fruit wraps were next, then we moved on to a couple of cans of peaches.

We’d been passing the food back and forth with a little “try this.” “This one is good.” I think it was because we didn’t really have anything to talk about. I tried to ask Anna about her life before the event, but she just brushed off my questions or changed the subject.

“It’s going to be a long walk back,” I said.

“I don’t think it’s going to be too bad,” Anna said.

“Because you have me to keep you company?”

“Because I found something very useful in a closet.”

“If it’s some kind of funky jetpack, I’m all ears.”

“Come with me,” she said.

“Yes ma’am!” I saluted.

We didn’t head to the bed. Instead, she stopped in front of a doorway and pointed.

“The rocket pack is in here?”

She opened the door. My mouth fell open and my lips curled into a grin.

“Perfect, right?”

“Anna, I could kiss you,” I said.

Then I did, and she didn’t punch me.

I unhooked the first bike from a hanger and brought it into the hallway. It was an expensive looking bicycle with sculpted lines and fancy brakes and gears changers. The second bike was smaller. It was white and had pink stripes along the body.

“You’ll look so cute on that thing,” I deadpanned.

“I happen to like pink.”

I blinked.

Then I spotted something else on the shelf and took it down.

“That’ll work,” Anna said.

###

08:15 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We sat side by side on the couch, weapons laid out before us. Joel had taught me enough about caring for my guns so that I didn’t feel like an idiot. Anna stripped hers like a pro and used a cloth to wipe down the components.

The half-empty bottle of synthetic motor oil I’d turned up in the closet would have to do. We scrubbed down all surfaces. I worked a couple of layers of lubrication into every sliding part, and then reassembled. The Mossberg also got a layer of oil. I used an old metal skewer I’d found in the kitchen to lightly scrape away any carbon buildup.

“How do you like the shotgun?”

“We were made for each other,” I said.

“It suits you.”

“How so?”

“Because you like to bash stuff. How many heads has that wrench crushed?”

“I lost count on the third day. By then it didn’t seem to matter any more,” I replied.

“Do you ever think about the people on the other end? The ones we end up putting down?”

“Not anymore. To me, they aren’t people anymore. They’re a threat and they need to be dealt with. If they have any humanity left, I haven’t seen it.”

Anna reassembled her M&P R8 and reloaded while we chatted.

“So if one of them got me, you’d handle it, right?”

I frowned.

“You’re really fucking morbid.”

“It’s a valid question,” she said. “I’d do the same for you. Unless you want to live out there like one of those things.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and turn into a shuffler. Then I can still chase you around.”

“You think you’re chasing me?”

“I’d say I caught you,” I grinned.

Anna rolled her eyes and snapped the revolver’s cylinder shut.

“Just remember. If I turn, I want it done quick.”

“Yeah. Sure, Anna,” I said.

We scrounged up a couple of backpacks and stuffed them with food, anything that was dry or light. I added a couple of cans of fruit for Christy and almost regretted my choice, since my backpack weighed about twenty pounds. It might not seem like a lot, but after a few miles on a twisted ankle, I’d be hurting.

We slid the dresser away from the front door but a noise stopped us on the spot. I slipped to the door and listened but didn’t hear another peep. I peered through the fish-hole and saw only an overcast day. I moved around, trying to see what else was out there, but nothing appeared in my line of sight. I turned, looked at Anna, and shrugged.

I put my finger to my lips and she moved her head in understanding. We waited a minute and then a minute more. I didn’t hear any other noises, so I nodded at her.

Anna un-holstered her pistol and aimed it at the door. I lowered my wrench and slowly turned the lock. The door slid open a crack.

I expected to see a Z or two on the landing, maybe a shuffler creeping around – in which case, I was going to put him down before he had a chance to get a fucking attitude. I had it mapped out in my head. He turns, gets that gleam in his eye, and then BAM! My wrench takes him to the ground and leaves a pile of goo.

Instead, we were greeted by the dog from the day before, the mutt that had been teasing the Z’s, leading them off by barking and then dashing away when the foul creatures got close. She whined and shifted from foot to foot.

“Well goddamn,” Anna said before I could.

I set the wrench against the wall and lowered my hand. The dog leaned forward, sniffed, and then her tail thumped against the floor.

“Okay, get in here,” I said and motioned.

The dog looked like it was mostly Labrador Retriever, but definitely had something else mixed in. She was a yellowish-tan with white around her eyes and nose, a good looking dog, but far too skinny. I understood that. Hard enough for humans to be out scavenging for food. I didn’t want to think about what she’d been eating to survive.

I glanced both ways to make sure there were no Z’s on the landing, then I closed the door with a soft click.

Anna dropped to her knees and gave the dog a rough scratch around the ears.

“You smell,” she said.

“Lets get her some food.”

“Then what? Leave her here?” Anna rubbed the dog’s neck.

The dog’s tongue lolled out.

I took her to the kitchen and dug around in the pantry. No dog food. Since we weren’t able to carry all the heavy stuff, I made her a meal of baked beans and beets. The pup went at it while keeping her eyes on us. I found another bowl and filled it with water.

“What else are we going to do?”

“We can’t leave her here. We’ll have to let her go before we move out.”

“Okay, but what is she going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Dog stuff, I guess,” she said.

“We could leave more food out and leave the door open. She’d be good for a day or two. Maybe she can sleep on the couch,” I said and patted her side. “I bet you’ve always wanted to sleep on a comfy couch.”

“You two make a cute couple,” Anna said.

“I thought you and I made a cute couple,” I said, expecting her to flip me the bird.

Anna looked away in discomfort but I caught a glimpse of color on her cheeks. I did the smart thing and shut the fuck up.

###

08:45 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We pushed the bikes out of the apartment and onto the landing. I’d dumped out a few more cans of food into bowls and left them for the dog, but she’d eaten her fill and now seemed more interested in following us.

“Stick around here and don’t let any stupid boy dogs get up in your business,” I said in a baby voice while she licked my face.

“Up in your business?” Anna stared at me.

“Yeah, unless she’s looking for some action. I mean…I guess it is the end of the world,” I said and shifted attention back to the dog. “Just make sure he wears protection.”

“Are you preparing a speech for your future kids?”

“Kids? I’m not really the dad type.”

We moved to the stairs. I hoisted the bike up to my shoulder while Anna followed. She stopped at the top of the steps and covered me while I went down. The dog stuck with Anna.

“She’ll probably stay after we start peddling,” Anna said.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

“I hate to say it, but we may need to do something about her. Can’t have her barking when we’re near a bunch of Z’s.”

“Whoa,” I said. “What do you mean ‘do something’?”

“It’s for the best.”

“It is not for the best. That dog’s a rock star. You might as well put a bullet in my skull.”

“Like I haven’t thought of that a few times.”

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Just…when we met, you were kind of a dick. All puffed up because of the kid.”

“That kid was my friend.”

Anna parked her bike and lowered the kickstand, then came to me. I half expected her to start a fight.

“Jackson. I’m sorry, okay?” She reached up to touch my cheek.

I stared back at her, wondering what she was about to do. She surprised me.

Anna got on her tiptoes, put her hand around my neck, and pulled me into a kiss.

“Uh.”

“Don’t be such a dork after last night. I was upset when I met you. I didn’t like what happened to the kid, but it was the right thing to do. He was one of them. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is now. I don’t want a dog barking at the wrong moment and getting us killed.”

“Don’t use the dog as a fucking bargaining chip.”

“I’m not,” she said. “And you know it.”

Christ, she was right. But right or wrong, I wasn’t going to kill a dog that just needed some attention. Man’s best friend and all.

“Let’s see what happens. Maybe she’s not a spaz.”

“A spaz? Who says that?”

I shrugged.

“No barking,” I told the dog.

She wagged her tail and sniffed the air.

Anna and I hopped on the bikes and started our trek back.

###

09:00 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

The dog followed us as we made it up the overpass and past the SUV we’d hidden under the day before. There was no sign of McQuinn and his crew, but we kept a cautious eye out.

The weather was turning and it looked like it might become a sunny day after all. The morning air still had a chill, but there was a mugginess lurking under the light breeze that hit me. If it weren’t for the zombie fucking apocalypse, you might think that me and Anna Sails were just a couple of lovers out for a morning ride. I wondered what it would be like to have a normal life with a girl like her. Would we bike to coffee shops? Go on picnics? Go for long drives? Hang out and watch bad movies on the SyFy channel?

I knew one thing for goddamn sure. Our nights wouldn’t get boring.

The dog kept to our side and sniffed the air as we headed for the other side of the freeway. A pile of bodies blocked our way at one point, so we moved to the shoulder and tried not to look. The dog whimpered as we moved past it but then dashed ahead a few meters.

We made it to the highway and stuck near the shoulder, veering off the road when we had too. It would have been easy to weave between cars, but I was concerned that we’d end up getting snagged by a Z that was hanging out in one of the vehicles. One minute we’re cruising, the next a hand is in our spokes and one of us is flying. We got up to a decent speed and the miles flew by, but then we happened upon a huge wreck.

The dog dashed ahead and then stopped and looked back at us. Her hair rose on her neck and she snarled but kept still. We stopped beside her, but she just stared.

The pair of Z’s slid around the side of a blue Monte Carlo and stumbled toward us. The dog backed up and didn’t make a sound except for a low, rumbling growl.

Anna and I jumped off the bikes and went to work.

I took the bigger one out with the wrench. It was a beauty of a shot, too. I stepped aside just as the slow creeper came at me. He wasn’t long dead and still had a lot of kick in his lurch.

I hit him in the head and he fell away. He didn’t even have a surprised look on his face – he just looked…blank. He managed to land on one knee and get a hand down. I stepped behind him and brought the wrench down with a loud crack.

Anna pulled her knife. She thrust, arm extended, to take the other Z right in the throat. She moved in, knocked his hand to the side, and ripped the knife to the away, taking most of his throat with it. The Z dropped but kept twitching.

The dog still stayed behind us and growled.

“It’s cool, dog. We got ‘em. Thanks for the assist,” I said.

The dog showed her teeth.

From now on I’m paying attention to the mutt.

The second wave clambered out of a bus and made for us. They snarled, white eyes locked on our flesh. There were only two at first, but then the rest of the bus unloaded.

“Let’s go, Anna,” I said.

We rolled our bikes around the wrecks, hopped on, and made a beeline for the rendezvous point. The dog moved alongside us but glanced over her shoulder a few times. Once she let out a low growl. I followed her gaze and saw a Z following us in the distance.

“Dog’s a keeper,” Anna said.

We rode a few feet apart.

“She needs a name,” I said.

“How about Frosty?”

“What the hell kind of name is that?” I asked.

“She didn’t even blink. Just stopped, stared, and growled. She’s cool under pressure.”

I grinned at Anna. “That’s a damn good name.”

###

09:30 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We hit traffic fifteen minutes later.

The pack of Z’s was the biggest I’d seen in a long time. They moved in our direction, but we saw them long before they saw us, so we ducked off the road and dashed to the thin tree line. The growth here was sparse and we didn’t really stand a chance of hiding if they took a real interest in us, but I’d found that even partial coverage was better than nothing. It could help to confuse them, with their milky white eyes and lack of ability to smell us.

Frosty stuck to our side and sat on her haunches while the parade of the damned marched by.

The Z’s were a mix of old and young, men and women. They moved at a slow pace. Thankfully, I didn’t see any fucking shufflers. At least fifty of the dead meandered past our location. Their destination, if Z’s could have a destination, seemed to wait in the same direction as ours. One thing was for sure – we’d have to deal with them on our way to LA unless we found another way, and I didn’t know shit about this area. Without Google maps or even a GPS, we were just hoping to stay near the highway and to make it to the big city and whatever salvation it represented.

A boy meandered through the crowd, but he was just as dead as the rest. In one hand he carried some kind of a stuffed toy that was covered in blood, and he still wore little kid pajamas. It was just about the saddest damn thing I’d seen in days.

Anna looked away but I caught a tightening of her eyes. I reached over and put a hand around her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, and after a minute the tension went out of her and she leaned into me. She didn’t look at me, but she sobbed in silent heaves against my arm. I held on until she was done. When the group passed, we moved on. I didn’t say a word.

###

09:50 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“This is the truck,” I said.

“No it’s not. We haven’t gone far enough. There was a big yellow truck next to the semi. I remember that.”

“There’s a big green truck. Are you sure it was yellow?”

“I’m sure,” she said but sized up the truck just the same.

I moved around the semi while Sails covered me. When we got around to the other side I stopped because Frosty growled.

A Ford truck that was at least thirty years old had smashed into the semi and the driver had been tossed against the side of the bigger truck. Most of the top of his head was gone. At least he wasn’t a damn Z.

A hand reached out for me and grabbed my ankle.

In my life, I have never let out a sound like that. It was filled with revulsion and fear and I sounded like a six-year-old when I jumped back and fell on my sore ankle.

Frosty wasted no time. She darted in and grabbed the Z’s hand and shook. I got myself loose and unlimbered the wrench. When the Z, a girl in her forties and covered in blood and goo, came out from beneath the vehicle, I bashed in her head.

Frosty took a seat next to me and panted.

I did the same thing I’d done to Anna. I leaned over and put my arm around her neck. She smelled like a dog that had been outside for a few days and I didn’t give a damn.

“You two really are cute together. Well, hell, Creed. I thought we were a thing. Looks like I’ve been dumped for that bitch.”

I stared at her for two seconds before I burst into quiet laughter.

###

10:00 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

After loitering in the shade of the truck for a bit, we took to the bikes and headed down the freeway again, weaving off the road and onto the shoulder until we’d gone at least another 2 klicks. As much as I willed the truck to appear, it did not.

“We have to be close,” Anna said.

I nodded and scouted ahead.

We’d come up on a slight rise that obscured the rest of the freeway. I struggled to try and remember anything that looked slightly familiar but it was like one big paint-by-numbers, minus the damn paint.

The rise gave way to another graveyard of abandoned vehicles. In the distance, about a klick way, lay another semi. Frosty stayed next to me and whimpered a couple of times. I leaned over and patted her head. She looked up at me and then her head snapped front as her hackles rose. With a soft growl, she dropped her head.

Among the cars, something prowled.

I found a car to duck behind and put my hand on Frosty’s shoulder to keep her calm. My leg ached from foot to knee but the ibuprofen had taken the edge off. With my other hand I motioned for Anna to join me. She pushed her bike the twenty yards that separated us and squatted beside me.

“See that?” I pointed.

“Shuffler?”

“Yeah. I think it’s the one that attacked the car yesterday.”

“No goddamn way,” she said but squinted into the distance.

“How do we play it?”

“I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure how to get her to understand.” Anna patted the dog’s head.

“We could point and make dog noises.”

“You try that, Creed,” she said.

“I’ll go and I’ll take Frosty. Maybe she’ll get the message and draw the asshole away so I can move in for a quiet kill.”

If I went in swinging in the open, I was looking at a tough fight. As much as I’d like to say I was a badass zombie fighter, the fact of the matter was that shufflers, even one, could be a handful for a pair of people. This guy was one of the worst I’d seen.

“I should go. I’m not hurt,” Anna said.

“I got this. Just stay here and stay safe. If I get into trouble, you come in with gun blazing.”

“Two things, Jackson.” Her eyes were tight but she spoke with passion. “One – just because we did what we did last night doesn’t mean I’m some little teapot that you have to protect. I can take care of myself. Two – if I shoot, it will bring that group our way. Then we’re really fucked, unless we can manage to take out the shuffler and fifty or sixty Z’s.”

She made all kinds of sense. If she was Joel, I’d have no issue, but I knew Joel and I knew how capable he was. Anna Sails was different. She was good with her gun, but I’d never seen her take on a shuffler by hand. I got nothing against a girl kicking ass. In fact, I fucking love it. But if this was the same shuffler, then he was too smart for just one of us. He didn’t just jump into battle. Yesterday I’d seen him use a bunch of Z’s as cover while he crept around and tried to flank us. Then he’d leapt on top of our car and tried to smash in the back window. Only Anna’s quick moves behind the wheel had shaken him loose.

“I know you can take care of yourself. But things are different now. I get to worry about you.”

“Worry about yourself first, you big dummy,” she said.

“Words hurt.”

“So does my foot, so if you want to keep it out of your ass, just play it cool.”

“Fine, Anna. See that blue compact? I’ll hide behind it. You draw him out and then we can both take him down.”

“Not enough cover and it’s at least thirty yards. How are you going to ninja your ass over there?”

“I got skills. I had a good teacher,” I said.

“You can barely walk. I’ll go but I’ll use the red Mustang. See it? The convertible?” She pointed.

“Yeah.”

“You hide there. I’ll draw him out. I’m going to go out in the open and when he closes in I’ll fade back. You whack him when he comes after me.”

“Worst plan ever.”

“Got a better one?” she asked.

“Nope. Let’s get this ambush ready.”

###

10:10 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

I hobbled into position with Frosty. I stayed nice and low as I did my best not to stumble into cars. I kept my eyes wide for the smallest hint of a Z hiding out in a car. Last thing I needed was to have one of them snag my shirt and drag me down.

Frosty wagged her tail while I crouched next to the car. She kept looking in the direction of the shuffler but she didn’t bark or freak out. In fact, she was cooler than me. If this dog was smart enough to keep a level head in the face of a freaking shuffler, I should be cool enough to wait for Anna to draw him out.

Anna moved toward the shuffler’s position. She kept low and faded from car to car, always keeping the shuffler in sight.

I crawled to the front of the car but popped up to keep my eye on the bastard. He was dressed in rags and covered in filth. His long hair hung in stringy clumps that covered his face. He kept close to the ground and did the fast crab walk I’d come to expect from a shuffler. But what was he doing? Sniffing something out?

Anna bumped into a vehicle’s side mirror and dropped out of sight. The shuffler moved as quick as a whip toward her position. I had the urge to jump up and call him to me. I had my wrench, and chances were I could get in a good blow when he came at me.

All in all, our half-assed plan had gone to hell in about six seconds.

The shuffler wasn’t waiting around for Anna to get into position to drag him my way. She was at a twenty degree angle to me and there were only a few cars separating us.

The shuffler must have been a goddamn mind reader. He latched onto her hiding spot like he had internal radar and leapt toward it. Anna went for her weapon as the shuffler hit the roof of the car she’d been hiding behind.

I moved.

Anna ripped her knife free of its sheath and dropped into a fighting stance. She kept the blade in a reverse grip, pommel next to her pinky, and got her other arm up as a guard.

I put too much weight on my ankle as I tried to break into a run and nearly went down as pain ripped up my leg.

The shuffler leapt off the car, but instead of directly engaging him, Anna slipped to the side and ripped the knife along his ribs. It turned with a snarl and came at her again.

I lifted my wrench high and strode toward the action.

If the shuffler was hurt, he didn’t show it. He dropped to all fours and then leapt again.

Anna dove forward and came up behind him. The shuffler turned and got a face full of blade. Anna was probably aiming for his throat, but the slash was still a beauty. I didn’t know if I was supposed to cheer or feel worried.

I was still twenty-five feet away, but moving fast.

The shuffler had learned his lesson and didn’t go on the offensive right away. He dropped to his hands and knees. His face, sunken in and small, was a horror of wounds and ripped flesh. He looked bizarre, like some strung-out fanatic.

Anna dropped to her fighting stance again, but this time she didn’t wait around. She advanced on the bastard.

He faded back, but not far, and then rushed in on all fours. Anna seemed to be caught off guard. Instead of moving to the side, she slashed down.

The shuffler bowled into her and took her to the ground. She fell hard and her breath was expelled in a big “whoof.”

I extended my legs, ignored the intense pain in my ankle, and almost reached the shuffler.

His head darted in, but Anna got her knife up and his mouth closed on the blade. She ripped it to the side, splitting his face open. Her other hand went to his throat to hold him back.

He flailed at her, punching her in the side with both fists, his legs locked tight. Goddammit!

A shape flashed past me and barreled into the fray. Frosty. Snarling, lips drawn back over teeth, she got her mouth around the shuffler’s arm and yanked.

Anna seemed dazed. She lifted her hands and tried to roll to the side.

The shuffler went after Frosty and gave her a glancing blow. She yelped in pain, let go, and backed up. Her lips drew back again as she bared teeth and growled, low, in her throat.

Furious, howling, and spitting blood, the shuffler leapt into the air, Anna his target.

I won’t say that it was pure luck. It was also a lot of adrenaline and anger mixed with fear. When I swung the wrench, it was with intent.

I hit the shuffler so hard that his head separated from his body. What was left of him collapsed on top of Anna. She rolled to the side and pushed him off. To my horror, his body still twitched. I grabbed the shuffler’s leg and dragged him a few feet away. Anna helped by pushing him away with her feet.

“Fuck me.” She tried to sit up and moaned.

“For the record,” I panted, “that was a terrible plan.”

I dropped beside Anna and helped her up. I looked her over, then met her eyes, which were filled with something like fear. I put my arm around her and held her close.

“If you and Frosty had taken a few seconds longer, I would be one of them now.”

“I tried to get here as fast as I could,” I protested.

“Creed, you were right on time. Thanks.”

Our moment didn’t last long. The moans of the dead reached us. Staggering to our feet, I was horrified to see a dozen of them coming at us. Frosty rumbled deep in her chest while her dark eyes stared, unblinking, at the threat. I put my hand on her neck and rubbed, but she didn’t take her eyes off the Z’s.

Anna and I struggled to our feet. We had about thirty seconds to make it to the bikes and then hightail it out of here. She held her hand at her side and grunted when she took a step.

The Z’s stepped up the pace when they got wind of us. Mouths wide, they moaned and groaned for our flesh. Arms up, feet staggering under rag-covered legs, eyes white and devoid of intelligence, they came on.

I dragged Anna after me, intent on reaching the bikes.

Then someone let out a quick short whistle.

I spun to the side as fear filled my gut.

It took a couple of seconds for me to connect the dots. Joel Fucking Kelly.

“Let’s go.” He gestured for us to join him.

Entry #17 - Rotted Flesh

10:30 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“Joel! You scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Asshole.”

“What did you want me to do? Jump up and down to get your attention?”

“How long have you been watching us get our asses kicked?” I asked.

“Not long. I was near the rendezvous point, just hanging out, doing my hair, checking my nails, and wondering if you two were still alive. Then I saw you on the bikes with a dog in tow. I was about a hundred yards away and saw Anna take on that shuffler.”

Hanging out, my ass. Joel had probably constructed some kind of sniper hole and covered himself in weeds and dirt, and was sitting there, unmoving, while his Marine eyes never blinked.

“Fucker.” Anna looked back and grunted, leaning on me as we followed Joel at a quick pace. “But we got you, didn’t we?”

She gave the mangled corpse the finger.

“You did alright,” I said.

“We need to pull a disappearing act, then we can sort all this shit out. Just follow me and we’ll be out of this in no time. Nice dog,” he said after noticing that Frosty was still following us.

I didn’t argue with Joel. If he had a plan, I was all ears, because nothing we’d done today had been anything worth bragging about.

“Dog’s great. Her name’s Frosty. She’s smart.”

“Smart enough to keep quiet?”

“Yeah. I named her Frosty for a reason.”

Joel considered the dog.

Frosty sat, panting, while she stared back at Joel. She licked her chops and then thumped her tail a couple of times.

“Dog seems risky. Any barking...”

“Like I said, she’s smart.” I recounted how we’d first watched her tease a bunch of Z’s.

“Just keep her close and quiet,” Joel said.

He led us to the side of the road and then down the embankment. The ground was covered in refuse and luggage. Most of the bags had been ripped open, leaving the clothing and personal items of a dead world scattered on the grass and dirt. Joel pointed at a bunch of bushes.

“Push them aside, then cover up when you get in. I’ll lead that pack away.” He never took his eyes off the approaching group of Z’s.

They staggered in our direction, moaning and snarling. Flesh pulled tight against bone. Limbs rotting or altogether missing. If this bunch got too close, we’d have to haul ass. The wind shifted and carried their scent our way. Even after weeks of this shit, it still made me want to gag.

Anna moved to the little copse and tugged shrubs aside. Behind them lay a huge drainage tunnel that ran under the freeway. There had been a metal grate at some point, but most of the bars had been battered aside. Anna and I moved into the dark space. I couldn’t speak for Anna, but I was holding my breath. If the Z’s found us in here, they couldn’t come at us en masse, but I was beat and Anna couldn’t have much left after her fight with the shuffler.

Joel moved away from our position and waited for the Z’s. They stalked toward him in an unorganized group of hungry mouths and milky white eyes.

“Yo, dead fucks. Come here often?”

They started snarling and groaning when they got sight of fresh meat. Joel was a rock.

Once they began to focus on him, Joel backed up a few steps. The grisly parade marched after him.

He waited until the first straggler was upon him, then whipped the butt of his gun around and smashed the Z in the head. It dropped, but a second one was just a step behind. Joel backed up again and then struck that one. The blow was glancing, spinning the Z to the side. Joel moved in and hit it one more time.

Joel moved back another step and clobbered the next one so hard it dropped like a rock.

The fresher Z’s bunched up on each other, and some went down in a tangle of limbs. He had their full attention now.

I moved in the tunnel but Anna put her hand on my arm and squeezed. I looked at her in the dark and could only see her shaking her head. I knew that Joel was capable of taking care of himself, but damn.

Frosty sat next to me and growled gently. I put my hand on her snout and then patted her head. She didn’t relax, but she was smart enough not to bark.

Joel turned and moved away from the bunch. Of the dozen that had been after him, only half were on their feet. He whistled at them and they came on, staggering over their fallen comrades. They moaned for Joel’s flesh.

He again turned and moved away, and they followed.

“Stay here,” I said.

Anna shook her head. “Don’t. He said he’d take care of it, Jackson.”

“It looks like he’s trying to take out the entire bunch by himself.”

“He’s thinning the herd. Making it easier to run if he has to.”

“Looks more like he’s trying to kill them all.”

“Can’t kill the dead,” she whispered.

Joel tugged his big knife out of the sheath. When the first Z was within reach, Joel slid to the man’s side, slammed his blade into the rotting neck, and yanked it out just as quickly. Gurgling, the Z went down.

Joel moved toward the second one. He knocked her hands down and then thrust his blade into the woman’s head.

Two down.

The remaining Z’s were still coming at him, so Joel turned and moved off another twenty feet until he was in a small cluster of trees. He was out of sight, but – even from our hiding place – I heard the dead falling.

The dog’s entire body was tense. I put my hand on her neck and rubbed her. She growled again.

“Stay,” I told Frosty.

I tugged free of Anna and pushed aside bushes to leave our hiding spot. Anna hissed after me but I ignored her.

With aching and battered body somewhat under my command, I advanced on the slowest Z and took him out with one swing. The next one fell against a third staggering dead dickhead, and they both tumbled away. I briefly rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath, then hefted the wrench and brought it down on the third Z, which was struggling to disentangle from his blood-covered comrade.

I moved behind Z’s like the world’s noisiest ninja. The wrench went up, and another Z got the thick side. I whirled again and caught one across the shoulder, then corrected on the follow-through and turned his head into mush with a backswing. Each ‘thunk’ brought blood and brains.

I followed the noise of Joel taking out Z’s and managed to drop two more. Anna was then standing beside me. She didn’t say a word, just shot me a nasty look. I ignored it and advanced on another poor bastard.

Anna took one out with her blade while I bashed another to the ground. The trail of bodies led us right to Joel.

I’d been fearful he would be surrounded, maybe overwhelmed, but he was very calm as he pushed one over to tangle up with a big guy dressed in rags. The Z’s scalp was torn and bloody. It had so many wounds, I wondered how he was still on his feet. One of his calves had been ripped almost to the bone but he staggered on, arms up, hands clawing toward me.

I bashed in his head and he went down in a heap. Joel moved in on another and stabbed deep into its eye-socket.

Then it became a mop-up operation as we finished them off. The work was gruesome. It was one thing to take them out from a distance; it was another being this close to their rotted flesh and stinking, pus-filled wounds. They were some of the nastiest Z’s I’d seen since San Diego and that was saying something, considering we’d spent part of yesterday next to a pile of putrid corpses.

The last one was a kid that couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. I moved behind him and pushed him to the ground. He tried to get up, so I leaned over and pressed my hand against his back. The wrench went high as I concentrated on my target. I couldn’t swing. I wanted to, but the world was suddenly swimming before my eyes. The Z tried to turn over, but he couldn’t have weighed more than fifty pounds. What there was of the kid had been eaten away by the virus, the elements, and other Z’s before he turned.

Joel shouldered me aside and plunged his blade through the back of the kid’s skull.

“Why are you hesitating?”

When had Joel come up alongside me?

“Dizzy,” was all I got out before I went to one knee.

“Jesus. You’re a mess. Let’s get you safe.”

“Sounds good to me,” I muttered.

“Thought I told you idiots to stay out of sight.”

“There were so many. I got worried about you. Sue me.”

“Idiot. I was going to loop back after I lost them in the trees.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“There wasn’t time to draw you a map of my battle plan. Plus I’m all out of crayons and construction paper,” Joel said.

“Very funny, smart ass.”

“I learned from the best.” Joel patted my shoulder.

On my feet again, I was grateful for Anna’s help. I draped an arm over her shoulders and we staggered after Joel. I felt as much a zombie as any one of the group we’d just put down.

###

10:50 hours approximate

Location: Near Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The trees were sparse when we first left the highway, but as we moved farther away, they grew closer together. Undergrowth snagged our feet as we crunched over twigs, soggy leaves and soft ground. There was no beaten path to follow.

Joel paused to check on us. I nodded at him, so he pressed on. Frosty had taken a liking to Joel right away and moved beside him. She broke away to sniff at trees and to push up piles of leaves. She found a spot she liked and took a crap. We averted our eyes until she was done. She walked around in a circle then dashed back to Joel’s side. She looked proud of her shit spot.

“Must be the beans,” Anna said.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“No. She probably hasn’t had anything decent to eat for days and we gave her baked beans.”

“I don’t give a shit what we fed her,” I said.

“Stop.”

“Just saying. It’s a shitty location.”

“Ugh.”

“I wasn’t trying to give you crap,” I pressed on.

“Are you five?”

“Poop jokes never get old. It’s a scientific fact.”

“I think you’re the one who’s full of shit, Jackson,” she said and poked me in the side.

We broke out of the tree line and came upon a long section of chain-link fence. On the other side lay a deep pool of water. A mallard was chasing around a smaller duck, no doubt trying to get laid.

There were recreational vehicles scattered around the area. I counted at least ten, and they were of all shapes and sizes, from giant brown land-cruisers to tow-behind campers with pop-up tents. An old silver Airstream sat next to a white Winnebago that had seen better days a decade ago.

The camp, as far as I could see, was surrounded by chain link fencing. Our welcoming committee sat just outside.

As we walked toward the camp, the people came to their feet. The men and women were holding hammers, axes, and blades. All of the folks were old and older, wearing anxious looks. They studied us with interest. A couple nodded at Joel.

“They were supposed to help. I just needed to lead the last of the bunch here.”

“None left?” One of the men spoke to Joel with a slight accent that I couldn’t place.

He was dressed in shorts and a red and black-checkered shirt. He wore hiking boots and looked to be in better physical shape than I’d ever been. He also had to be in his seventies.

“This is Claude. He’s French, but he’s cool,” Joel said.

“Mon Dieu. I’m a gentleman. A French gentleman,” the guy said.

A woman stood next to him. She was younger, but not by much, and when he spoke, she wrapped her arm around his waist.

“That’s Belle. Annabelle, but she likes Belle.”

“Good. We already have an Anna,” I said.

Anna Sails shot me a look. “Already got one?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “Although I got you last night.”

“Jackson!”

I shrugged and moved in to shake hands with our new friends.

Friends. There’s a word in short supply these days. Our last companions were killed when McQuinn and his jackwads decided that they wanted our shit. We turned the tables on them, and I ended it with a fiery explosion that nearly cost me my life.

Now we had at least ten new friends. Make that ten well-armed new friends.

“You two need some rest and first-aid,” Claude said.

“How about the extra camper? It’s not much but it’s got room for two,” Belle said.

“Anna, you can stay with Roz and Christy. We have a good-sized RV. I’ll bunk with Creed.”

“No need to kick you out. We survived out there. I don’t think one more night together will kill us,” Anna said.

I practically sighed with relief. Nothing against my buddy Joel Kelly, but Anna was a much sexier roommate.

Joel shrugged then winked at me as he turned his head in the direction of the camper.

“Over there. It’s the white one on top of the big ass truck.”

“As long as I don’t have to sleep under the truck, I’m good,” I said.

“Why the hell would you sleep under the truck? Musta had the sense knocked out of you by that shuffler. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, after I’ve slept for about eighteen hours.”

Joel nodded. “Just take it easy. We’ll rest up for the day and then move out late tomorrow night if the Z’s don’t gather.” He turned away and checked his assault rifle, pulling back on the receiver and inspecting the gun’s load. “Keep the noise down and stay inside. They’ve managed to survive by keeping indoors for a whole week. Damn good strategy.”

“Better than running around shooting stuff?”

“Much better plan.”

“How are you set for food?”

“They’re mostly travelers and they’ve done well with supplies. We lost one the other night because he got drunk and went to find his dead wife. His RV turned out to have a shit load of food in it. Ain’t gonna last forever, though.”

“Did he find her?”

“What?” Joel asked.

“Did he find his wife?”

“Let’s just say she found him.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Claude turned up his nose. “He was a bit of an asshole, but he was still one of us.”

I shrugged out of my backpack and put it on the ground.

“I can add to our supplies. Got a few dried goods, couple of cans of fruit for…”

“Jackson!”

I turned, and there was Christy. She and Roz stepped down from a big brown RV that looked like it cost more than I’d ever made in all my years in the United States Navy.

She broke from Roz’s side, ran toward me, and crashed into my chest. Her arms wrapped around my waist.

“Good to see you, dude,” I said and hugged her back.

Christy looked good. She had cleaned up and found a change of clothes. The haunted look had vanished from her eyes. What a difference a day makes when you aren’t running for your life.

“Don’t call me dude, dude.” She smiled.

“I brought you something,” I said and unsnapped my backpack.

I dug around and came up with a can of mandarin oranges.

Christy ignored me, her eyes on Frosty. The dog wagged her tail. She sniffed Christy’s hands. The two stared at each other like they were long lost best friends.

I held the oranges up lamely, then put them back in the bag for later.

“What’s her name?”

“I call her Frosty because she’s cool under pressure. She doesn’t bark at Z’s and she’s great in a fight. Saved Anna’s life.”

“She’s so cute!” Christy said and hugged the dog. Frosty looked back at me, tongue lolling out, then licked Christy’s face.

“Ah, dude. She’s got shuffler all over her face,” I groaned.

Frosty took to Christy quickly and followed her to their camper. I told her to remember to walk her and feed her only the best. Turkey and bacon were preferred, but she’d probably settle for anything canned.

###

11:45 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

Our “camper” was a metal and fiberglass enclosure mounted on top of a F250 truck. It had a bunk that rested over the canopy. The interior was sparse, but it did boast an L-shaped couch that doubled as a dining room table for three. Two, if I stretched out. There was a tiny sink and even a toilet. The little space had a feminine feel, but I could care less.

Belle made us take off our outer garments and inspected our wounds. Anna had a nasty bruise running up her side that would be purple and yellow by tomorrow. I had a few scrapes here and there, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in time. Belle dressed our wounds. She was thorough, and I knew she was looking for any hint of a bite.

“I’ll bring some food by. There’s a package of diaper wipes you can clean up with, but you two get some rest. Are you okay sleeping up there?” she asked us.

“No worries,” Anna said.

Belle left us alone with a few words of warning.

“Stay inside as much as possible. If you see a group of infected, keep out of sight. Make as little noise as possible. Do that, and they leave us alone. If things get tight, you’ll hear bells in the distance. That’s Joel running out to distract a horde.”

“Say what the fuck?” I asked.

Anna elbowed me in the side.

“What, I’m a foul-mouthed sailor.”

“I’ve heard much worse living with that French firecracker,” Belle said.

“Coulda gone my entire life without hearing that,” Anna said under her breath.

This time I elbowed her in the side.

“Claude used to do it, but Joel is younger and can handle himself. There’s a set of bells a few hundred feet away. Sound them and the infected go in that direction. We run a tight ship here.”

“Of course Joel does it. He’s a super Marine. He eats Z’s for breakfast and then spits them out.”

“Right,” Belle nodded. “He’s very spry.”

“That’s our Joel. You should remind him that he’s spry,” I said. I tried to imagine the look on Joel’s face and nearly cracked a smile.

“I will if I see him. He patrolled last night. We haven’t seen him much since he arrived.”

“I bet you sleep better,” I said.

“Are you like Joel? Can you help protect us?”

“He’s not like Joel. He’s more like a fish out of water,” Anna said.

I started to protest.

“But Jackson Creed has his moments,” she said and met my eyes.

I looked away first.

“Get some sleep. If you hear bells, it’s all hands. Remember that.”

“So we hide if we hear bells or we go out there?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Do what the situation calls for,” Belle said and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Anna and I made use of the baby wipes and managed to get most of the blood and grime off. I helped her and she helped me. She ran her hands over some of my wounds and I touched hers. We didn’t talk much, just sat and got comfortable. I could get used to this domestic shit.

“They don’t have a plan. They don’t have a clue. No wonder Joel has been wired since he got here.”

“This place is defensible, but if they get cornered it will get messy,” Anna said.

“Messy isn’t the word for it. This camp is a bunch of retired travelers. All they know about surviving the zombie fucking apocalypse is to stay inside and stay quiet.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to be quiet,” Anna said.

“What, and have you miss my stunning insights and wisdom?”

“Write them down. I need my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beau-”

“Just save it, Creed. I’m who I am and you don’t have to sweet talk me.”

“I wasn’t trying to sweet talk you. You’re a damn fine looking woman, Anna,” I said. Christ, what was I doing, checking out a car?

“I wish I could say the same for you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I protested.

“You’re kinda scruffy and when you take off your shirt you look like you’re half werewolf.”

“Where wolf? There wolf!” I said and pointed at the window.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Yes ma’am.” I grinned.

I chowed down on a couple of strips of jerky while she went at the granola. I ate most of a tin can filled with tuna, then Anna helped me finish it off. Crackers, a couple of fruit strips, and I was beginning to feel like we might actually be safe for a while.

After we ate, we crawled up into the bunk. There was an old red blanket and some kind of comforter. I tugged them over us and settled back.

I put my arm around Anna, half-expecting her to push me away, but she snuggled into me.

That’s all I knew for a long time, because I fell asleep as she muttered about how we should rest, there’d be time for other stuff later.

I dreamed that I was on the run. The road stretched on forever. The sun hung low in the sky and it was the color of blood. I was alone and the road didn’t end, so I ran and ran and ran, but always behind me were the sounds of moans and groans as the dead pursued.

###

22:30 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

I woke to voices, sat up, and bashed my head into the overhead canopy.

“Mother…”

“Dude. You should take it easy,” Joel said.

Anna was dressed and sitting at the table with Joel and Belle. They had a map stretched out. Belle was marking spots while Joel studied it intently. A pair of candles held down two corners and provided flickering illumination. The windows had curtains, but they’d been taped down so no light could get out.

I glanced at my beat up watch and did some quick math in my pounding noggin. I’d slept for almost twelve hours and my body felt like I could sleep for twelve more.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shrugged into my pants and shirt. My head pounded from a nasty headache that a full bottle of Advil might make a dent in if I washed it back with a fifth of whiskey.

“Damn head hurts.”

“I think you broke the camper, Creed. What part of keep it quiet didn’t you understand during orientation?”

“The fuck, Joel. You guys come into our…shit.” I looked sheepish. This wasn’t my place. I was a guest at best.

“Just messing with ya. Now get your ass down here and help us strategize.”

“Big word for a Marine.”

“So’s machine gun, ya navy puke.”

“That’s five words, Joel,” Anna said helpfully.

“Ah, Christ. I thought you two were just being polite last night when you offered to take the camper together.”

I kept my poker face but Anna blushed a furious shade of red. Joel looked between us and sat back on the couch.

“Just shut the fuck up,” I said, staring at Joel, but there was no anger.

“Yeah. Okay. That your pick up line?”

Anna and Belle burst into laughter.

“I’m serious. What did he say, Anna? That he had a crush on you, might be the end of the world, all that shit?”

“Jackson Creed was a perfect gentlemen,” she said.

Now who was keeping a poker face?

“Just tell me what we’re doing so I can get back to sleep,” I mumbled.

“Sleep, huh. Remember the rules, keep the noise down.”

I rolled my eyes and joined them.

With the couch and table in use, there was little extra room, and I had to hunch over to peer at the map. I gave up on that uncomfortable position and got on my knees.

“We’re here,” Joel said and pointed at a red dot. The area around it was mostly rural but the highway was easy enough to follow, and it led straight to LA.

“Where’s the nearest Starbucks?” I asked.

“This is where Bright Star may be located,” Joel pointed at a blue dot that was just outside of the big city.

I found the legend and studied the scale. We were a long way from that dot. On any normal day we’d be able to drive up the coast in an hour. Now, with the freeways jammed, it could take days.

“So why not stay here? This is nice enough, and they have a plan. Just stay quiet.” I said.

Every time I thought about the old folks here using that to avoid detection, I wanted to groan. There were just too many of the things out there, and if they became fixated on the survivors, these people would be dead in no time.

“Roz and Christy want to stay, but I’m going.”

“Going where? To Los Angeles? How do you plan to get there? Fly?”

“I ain’t going to LA. I’m going here.” Joel pointed out another spot on the map.

“Camp Pendleton?”

“They train Marines, but they might let you in.”

“The fuck would I want to go there for? You can have all the saluting and shooting stuff with your hard-on assault rifle. I’m sick of it,” I said.

What I didn’t say was that I thought the idea of staying here was pretty damn good, especially if I could talk Sails into staying. She might be a pain in the ass, but right now she was my pain in the ass. Or so I surmised after our one night together. I was under no delusions that I could keep her here if she didn’t want to stay.

“I’m sick of it too, but I need to know what’s going on out there. I need to know if my brothers are still there. I’ve been thinking about it, Creed. This shit, this running around shit, I’m done with it. I want to get back, get in a unit, and get in the damn war.”

“So you’re going to abandon us and drive, what, forty miles away to a Marine base? How do you plan to get there?”

“Side roads, off road, whatever I have to do. I’m taking this camper.”

I looked at Belle but she just shrugged and went back to studying the map.

“It’s a good plan,” Anna chimed in.

“It is?” I asked.

“What do you want to do, Jackson, stay here and start a family? It’s the end of the world. If I can live a few more weeks, fight for a few more days, it’s worth it. I’ve got nothing else left,” Anna said.

That stung, but I coughed to cover the lump that had formed in my throat.

Anna met my eyes and then she must have realized what she said because she looked surprised.

“Anna,” I started.

“Come on, Belle. These two got stuff to sort out.” Joel rose to his feet, hunched over to avoid the roof, and made for the back door.

“Joel. Can’t you think of any other options? We’re a team, man.”

“We are, but you have to do what’s right for you.”

“That’s your big speech?”

Joel shrugged, peeked out the back window and then cracked the door open and hopped down. Belle followed, and then the door clicked softly shut.

###

22:45 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

“Don’t start with me. I’m going,” Anna said.

“Fine. You don’t have anything here, right?”

“Oh Jesus, Jackson. I didn’t mean it like that. What're we doing, anyway? Last night was just a way to blow off stress, right?”

I dug out a bag of crackers and munched on a couple. Anna handed me a bottle of water which I drained in one go.

“Sure, Sails. Just blowing off steam. Couple of people just out for a zombie joyride jumped in the sack together.”

“You better not fucking fall in love with me, Jackson. I’ll kick your ass.”

“Who’s talking about love? I just like being around you, okay? And you can try to kick my ass anytime you want.”

Anna covered her look with a drink of water.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

“Maybe, but I’m the idiot that’s here right now. Why don’t you think about staying? Give it a day or two. After yesterday and today we deserve a break.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I'm going with Joel because it gets me closer to LA, and that gets me closer to Bright Star. Roz and Christy are staying, so you’ll have someone to keep you company."

"I need to watch over Christy. I owe her after what happened to her brother." I tried to cover the disgust in my voice but it was there and it was bitter.

"I've told you a million times."

"You can tell me a million more times and it won't change the fact that he's dead and that fucker Lee is responsible."

"Enough about the kid. We're talking about us, right? If you're so bitter then I’ll no longer be around to be a reminder.”

"Fuck!"

“The hero would stay,” she said. “You saved us all back at the hotel.”

“Enough with the hero bullshit. I just did what was right and it sucked. How many of those guys did I kill? Joel probably shoots a guy and doesn’t think twice. That’s not me.”

“It was us or them. I’m glad it wasn’t us,” she said.

I met Anna’s eyes and pondered what kind of a future she and I might have. The way the world was now, it wouldn’t be a good one, but at least we’d be able to watch over one another. Sails wasn’t what I’d expected. Back when she was running with Lee, she’d been a hardass that punched my Marine buddy and then pulled a gun on him. Even I wasn’t that fucking stupid.

She didn’t take shit and I liked that. She was tough and I liked that as well. I’d never planned far enough into the future to think about settling down with someone. Never thought twice about what I’d do beyond the next port of call or the next bar hop.

But here I was.

“Just tell me what you think we're doing and I’ll tell you if you’re right,“ she said.

“Don’t put that shit on me. It takes two to make a couple. Math. I may be a dumb squid but I can count.”

“See, Jackson, that’s where we differ. I don’t see us as anything like a couple. We’re just here to watch out for each other,” she said.

“And that’s it?”

“You don’t know me, Jackson.” She looked down. “You don’t know what I saw or what I did. In the end it didn’t matter, because they were taken from me. Everyone. First my husband when he ran off last year. Then my kids when they were killed by those things.”

I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. Anna looked down and her hair covered her face. I knew she was fighting tears and I didn’t know the first thing to say. She gripped my hand for a few seconds, shook her head, and looked up at me.

“It’s okay. We can talk in the morning. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m sleeping by the door in case you try to pull a disappearing act.”

“Clingy doesn’t suit you.”

“Running away doesn’t suit you.”

“Just shut the hell up, Jackson. I’ve done enough talking today.”

So I shut up.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I grabbed a magazine off a pile and saw the date was from a few years ago. After flipping through a few pages I realized it was all about golf, something I was not at all interested in, but it was better than sitting around glaring at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said.

“Me too.”

“What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who’s being stupid.”

“Forget it, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, Jackson. I do need to apologize for treating you like shit. For treating you like you don’t matter,” she said. “You do matter, Jackson.”

After a second I shut my mouth. “You better not fucking fall in love with me, Sails.”

Anna didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then she laughed, and just like that, the tension was gone.

“Come on, let’s just get some rest,” she said.

Anna stood up and stretched. She checked the door and turned the lock.

“Z’s can’t open doors.”

“Yeah, but others can,” she said.

Anna took my hand and led me to our bunk.

Entry #18 - Land of the Free

11:30 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

We didn’t stay for just one day. We stayed for a few.

I dug out one of the shirts Anna had found at the apartment and went to town with some duct tape, covering my arms. I applied it liberally but left space for my elbow so I could bend my arm without difficulty.

“Very fashionable,” Anna observed.

She sat on the side of the bed dressed only in panties and bra, looking hot as hell. Sadly, she slid into more clothing. I watched her dress and she watched me back. We didn’t speak but I was getting used to that. She had her demons and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it except to be there for her. Sounds useless, but it was all she wanted. She told me a little bit about PTSD while we lay together the night before and it sounded horrible. Then it dawned on me that we were probably all suffering from the same thing. She asked me to be patient with her and I promised that I would.

“Look, Anna,” I said. I took her hand in mine and just held it for a minute. “I’m not under any delusions here. I know we’re a mess, but we’re here for each other, right?”

“Yeah. We’re here for each other. Fucking hell, Creed. If you go out there and try to collect flowers for me I’m going to be really disappointed,” she said.

“You don’t have to be a hardass all the time.”

“I’m not a hardass. I’m just me.”

“Fine. I’ll go find some nice weeds for you.”

Anna kicked at me with one slim foot but I sidestepped it and tugged her off the bed and into an embrace. I could get used to this. Anna might be a time bomb. She might be a hardass. But there was a lot to like about her.

I wondered how hard the new world was planning to work against us.

###

12:05 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

The folks that made up the little camp came from varied backgrounds. Most were senior citizens. We’d met a dozen the first night. By the next day a third of them had drifted away. Safety in numbers was Claude’s credo, but some argued that they were better on the move. Campers left at night, and besides the puttering of motors, we didn’t hear another sound out of them as they faded up the road.

Claude was a natural-born leader and wasn’t shy about getting the people to work together. He’d organize groups of three or four and have them outside for a few minutes, gathering supplies from abandoned RV’s, or collecting water.

Joel and I ignored the politics and worked during the day to go out on patrol, shore up the fence, and put a better lock on the gate. They’d used a piece of twelve gauge wire to loop a couple of links together, but I found a chain that might have been used to hold the gate closed in the past. Someone had cut it cleanly. I dug out a couple of pairs of pliers and worked at the links until I had a half-ass lock. It performed by someone sticking a screwdriver into a pair of links and using the smaller wire to keep the length of metal in place. It wouldn’t keep out a determined intruder, but it would keep a Z out.

The gate was made of chain link and was eight feet tall. Z’s occasionally gathered, so we taunted and bribed them with our bodies until they followed us near the gate. Then Joel, Anna, Roz, and I went out and killed them.

Roz was in good spirits and stuck to Christy like they were sisters.

“How’s the leg, Jackson?” Roz asked.

“Ankle. Still hurts but I’ve had some good care.” I lifted my pant leg and showed off a bandage that wrapped around my calf and down into my boot.

“Good care, huh? You and Anna seem to be pretty friendly.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Friendly.”

“You two make a good couple. You’re kind of a mess and she’s kind of a badass.”

“That’s what I like about her.” I smiled.

I didn’t ask about her and Joel. This wasn’t high school and, frankly, it was none of my damn business.

Christy spent a few minutes running Frosty ragged before ducking back into the RV with the wet dog in tow. Frosty followed, tail wagging. True to the camp’s rules, they stayed out of sight as much as possible.

The weather sucked. Rain fell in a light mist that got heavier as the day wore on. Joel and I rigged up some tarps over a pair of RV’s to capture the water. Claude pointed me toward some old PVC tubing. I ran it into Joel’s temporary home.

Christy was interested in what I was doing, so I showed her how to make a basic water filter.

“Rain water’s clean, but if you ever need to drink water and you don’t know if it’s safe, just make a filter. The best way is if you have charcoal,” I told her.

We requisitioned an empty two-liter bottle. I cut the bottom off and then cut some fabric into strips. Christy and I went out near the pond and dug down until we found a little bit of sand. She gathered a few handfuls while I loaded up on pebbles.

“We’re going to make clean water with dirt?” she asked.

Christy wore a long red dress with black tights. She had a light windbreaker on. Her hair was drenched in minutes.

“Yep. You can go back if you’re cold,” I said.

“I’m fine. I want to learn this.”

She and I dug out enough sand and little rocks to complete my project. The rain picked up, so we hightailed it back to the camper with our treasures.

Back in the big RV, we laid our collection in neat little piles on the counter. Belle ‘tsked’ at the mess, but I promised her that Christy would clean up after we were done. Christy shot me daggers, but I stuck my tongue out and she smiled back.

Belle, Anna, Roz, and Joel had all escaped the rain and were sitting inside the RV. They laughed as they played high-stakes poker for millions of dollars. Christy glanced at the game, but was more interested in what we were doing.

We filled the filter with five layers: pebbles, sand, crushed charcoal from a fire, sand, and more pebbles. The little strips of old bedding we’d converted into strips separated each layer.

“Why all the sand?” Christy asked.

“The little rocks and sand filter out dirt and particles. The charcoal gets any chemicals out. By the time it passes through, the water is safe to drink.”

I used more strips of cloth to attach one end of the filter to the tarps, then I dragged the other end of the PVC tube into the RV. I untied the knotted end and watched as the first few drops fell out of the tube and into the sink.

“Get a cup.”

Christy grabbed a coffee mug off the counter and held it out.

I tasted the next few drops, smacked my lips together, and then motioned for Christy to try. She filled her mug halfway to the top and then took a sip.

“Tastes weird, like it’s got wood in it or something.”

“Probably the charcoal. If you want to filter rainwater, all you really have to use is a coffee filter. Duh,” I said.

“Jackson, you jerk.” Christy laughed.

“And it falls from the sky. Just stand outside with your mouth open. If you stand there long enough, you’ll get a full belly of water. Plus, you’d look like a crazy girl. The Z’s might just leave you alone.”

Christy giggled as I tossed my head back and opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue.

“Is that what he did to impress you?” Roz asked Anna.

“Something like that. The tongue part is good,” she said, then her face went scarlet.

Roz sat back hard in her chair and laughed.

I ignored them.

“Mad person disease, that’s what Z’s call it when they don’t want to eat someone,” I said.

“What makes the person mad?” Christy asked.

“When they can’t build a good filter, I guess.”

“I won’t get the disease, then.”

“Just remember this filter in an emergency.”

“I will. I’ll write it down. I write down all the survival stuff I learn.”

“Learn how to shoot straight yet?”

“Joel showed me but I haven’t actually fired a gun since the hospital,” she said.

“Anna’s an ace shot. You should ask her to teach you.”

Christy glanced up at Anna and then looked away quickly.

“Joel’s fine,” she said under her breath.

After the last few days I’d come around on Anna, but my change of heart hadn’t spread.

“Just something to think about,” I said lamely.

“Do you like my dress? Belle said it was her daughter’s. It’s a little big but the color’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Of course it looks good on you, dude. I’ll have to start calling you princess.”

We joked around for a few minutes and then talked about video games while the poker match went on. After Joel was in the hole for a half a billion dollars he called it a game and asked if I’d make a quick perimeter run with him.

Roz stood as he made for the door and said something close to his ear. Joel shot her a quick smile and whispered something back. I looked at Joel but his face didn’t betray anything. Whatever those two were up to wasn’t my business.

It was time to get to work.

###

13:30 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We set out on patrol, leaving the confines of the little trailer park. We ranged a mile out and then circled around, avoiding the highway and its dangers. We found a small town, much like Clairemont, but without map or GPS we couldn’t determine the name.

A pack of Z’s wandered the streets. We perched behind a bunch of shrubs and waited them out. Neither of us moved until the group was well away from us, then we rose and hustled to a shattered storefront. The shelves were bare of anything useful, so we exited through the back door.

We passed a pair of bodies. Both had been placed on the ground with the back of their heads caved in. A crow bar lay next to them, the curved end covered in blood and matted hair. It was possible that the pair had been Z’s, but I suspected they’d instead been shop owners and had put up a fight when looters arrived.

Joel considered the bodies but didn’t say a word.

“What’s up with your tactical gear?” I asked.

“I added plates after our last encounter. Getting shot at wasn’t my idea of a good time.”

“Plates?”

“Ceramic. They’re light, but break up if a round hits them.”

“Where in the hell did you find plates?”

“Did some digging around in the supplies in the camp. They have a communal drop off for goods. Turns out someone’s kid was in the military and saw action. These were packed away in a box. They aren’t a perfect fit but I made them work.”

“What about me, Joel? Shouldn’t I wear something like that?” I asked.

“Sure, man. If you can find them.”

“Well, shit. What’s the alternative?” Joel had worn his IMTV tactical gear since we’d been on the USS McClusky. I’d worn one messy bunch of clothes after another.

“Don’t get shot.” Joel winked at me.

We moved to another storefront and found it empty save for bodies. In this case it was easy to make out the features of the dead. They’d been Z’s, but now they were just moldering corpses.

Another horde wandered in our direction so we took care to stay hidden. A shot rang out from somewhere and one of the Z’s dropped. Joel and I ducked behind a countertop and watched.

The men came into the streets from the north. They were dressed in leather and carried bottles of alcohol. They bore automatic weapons and seemed to take great pleasure in gunning down the horde.

One of the men stepped out of a building and I knew him right away. It was McQuinn.

“Son of a bitch,” I whispered to Joel.

He nodded but didn’t do anything stupid. If I had his gun I probably would have picked McQuinn off—or at least tried to. I was under no delusions that I could even hit the building, let alone a single figure.

“I hope he doesn’t find the camp. Dammit. We should warn our new friends,” Joel said.

“They aren’t exactly hidden. If McQuinn’s men do any further exploring, they’re likely to find the camp.”

Joel chewed on that for a minute and then moved. He kept low, peeked out of the back, and gestured. I followed him across a street and we slipped into the woods.

###

14:45 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

Arguing with Claude was useless. We tried to impress on him the fact that McQuinn was a threat.

“But what can we do except to hide? If we leave they may hear the noise of the campers,” he said. I’d noticed that when Claude spoke in a rush, his speech took on a thicker accent.

“You got no choice, man,” I said.

“We do have a choice. Besides, we are reasonable people. Maybe they will be reasonable with us.”

“That shit didn’t work out too well for us,” Joel said.

Claude shrugged and left us. He moved back to his RV and shut the door quietly behind him.

“We should pack it in.”

“Yeah. I’m down with that. Been thinking about that abandoned RV back there. No one investigated because they thought there was a Z inside.” Joel pointed toward the back of the camp. The vehicle would have looked old a decade ago.

“What about it?”

“Could be it’s full of food. If we don’t check it out before we go, we might regret it later.”

“Ah hell, Joel. I hate it when you make sense.”

“So you’re going to go with me?”

“Just because I don’t want to get shot at anymore doesn’t mean I want to be a fucking Marine with you and your pals at Pendleton,” I said.

“Yeah, but think how great it would be, man. Going from squid to badass.”

“Because that’s what I want out of life,” I said sarcastically.

“Yer goddamn right,” Joel said. He clapped me on the shoulder and moved out.

I stood in the drizzling rain for all of a half-minute before sighing loudly and following. Quick check, get any goods, and then haul ass out of here. I was game.

###

14:55 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

We slipped out of the RV and did a quick perimeter sweep. A pair of Z’s were wandering by. When they got wind of us, they lurched toward the chain link fence.

“Come on. They’ll leave in a few minutes if we pull a disappearing act. Damn things aren’t too bright,” Joel said.

We ducked behind the truck/camper that Anna and I were calling home and waited them out.

“So you and Roz, huh?”

“None of your damn business.”

We crouched in silence for a minute.

“So you and Anna, huh?” Joel asked. I wondered when he’d get around to giving me shit.

“None of your damn business.”

“Hey man, I’m glad you made it back, but we’ve complicated things. Women,” Joel said.

“It’s not that complicated to me. I like Anna and she seems to like me.”

“Yeah, but it makes us weak as a unit. We’re likely to do stupid shit if they get in trouble.”

“Joel. If you’re out with a bunch of Marines, doing Marine shit, do you ignore your buddy if he gets in trouble? What if he’s hit? Do you abandon him?”

Joel snuck a look at the Z’s.

“That’s not the same,” he said.

“Not the same because your buddy doesn’t have tits?”

“That’s different. We work as a unit.”

“And we don’t?”

Joel chewed on his gum.

“They ain’t leaving,” Joel said and nodded toward the pair of Z’s.

I gave up on trying to talk sense into him.

“We could flank them and take them from behind,” I said.

“You’d like taking a couple of Z’s from behind. That way you don’t have to smell their rot breath.”

“That’s not what your mom said last week,”

“Low blow, brother. I ain’t talked to my mom in a long while,” Joel said.

“Ah shit, man. I’m sorry. I was just fucking around.”

“I know. It’s cool. We’re tight, right?”

“Tight as a nut on a six-fifty-five valve.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tight on my nut.”

I snorted out a half laugh.

“We could go out and take them, but I’d rather not risk it. For all we know, the woods could be filled with Z’s. Last night I went out there and heard a lot of movement. Besides, McQuinn is nearby. Best we be gettin’ on.”

We moved, low, toward a pair of abandoned RV’s on the outskirts of the camp. They were in the corner of the fenced-in camp.

“You haven’t checked these out yet?”

“Nah. Claude usually leads a group around but these were ignored because there’re too far back. Plus, Claude thought he heard something in the older one and worried it was occupied.”

“Occupied by something with a pulse?”

Joel shrugged and sprinted toward one of them. The gravel covered road was hard under my feet, and even though my leg was feeling like I could put pressure on it for a change, the running hurt. I sucked it up and followed.

“Where’d that come from?” I pointed at an ambulance.

“They found it abandoned a half-mile from here and drove it back to the camp.”

“Claude did?”

“Not sure.”

“Anything else in the truck? Damn, man. That should be filled with medical stuff.”

“It was already cleaned out when they found it.”

“Not even a bottle of Percocet?”

Joel snorted.

To our right sat our goal. The pair of vehicles were older and hauled by trucks. I checked the first vehicle by peering into the windows; there didn’t seem to be anyone inside. I tried the door but it was locked. I could break the window with the wrench, but it seemed a shame to go around bashing in a perfectly good truck. If we found the keys inside we might be able to make use of it.

The RV itself looked like it had been built in the seventies. It was brown with one large white stripe running down the center of the body. Dirt clung to the sides, doing its best to cover up all the dings and dents.

Joel moved next to the RV’s door and rapped lightly.

I moved to the other side of the door and waited for his lead.

He tried the door handle and found that it was locked. I pressed the side of my head to the RV and listened. After a half-minute I hadn’t heard anything moving, so I shook my head at Joel.

“Guess we do it the hard way,” Joel said.

He put his AR-15 next to the door and then pulled his knife. The blade was dented in a few places, but I’d seen him use the knife on a number of doors and it always managed to hold up to the task.

“Breaking and entering. Just like old times,” I said.

Joel jammed the blade into the doorframe and tapped it a few times then ripped it to the side. The door lock popped and it was go time. I moved back to cover Joel while he grabbed his rifle and poked it into the darkness.

“Yo,” he called through the doorway.

We waited for the count of fifteen.

Joel switched on his tactical light and moved up the first step. I followed his lead.

The smell was bad. The tiny space reeked of refuse and rot, but there was something worse hiding in the stench. I knew that smell all too well. A body didn’t take well to being half-devoured and then left lying around. The problem with Z’s was that they were still ambulatory, even as the damn things continued to rot and degenerate.

The interior looked like a tornado had hit. Cups, silverware, and plates were scattered over the floor along with several bags of trash. A suitcase had been ripped open so hard the top hung on by threads. Blood was splattered on the walls and floor.

Joel poked around and found a body lying next to the bed. He toed it and the hand twitched. The Z was a mess. Most of her face was gone and one of her arms was bent under her body. From the weird angle I guessed it had been practically ripped out of the socket. Her neck had been partially severed, and that left a lot of blood, most of which had soaked into blankets scattered next to her. A large kitchen knife lay next to her body.

“Jesus,” Joel whispered.

“How’d that happen?”

“She tried to kill herself. Look at the wound.”

“I’ve seen enough. Let’s just do her,” I said.

Something thumped.

My blood ran cold as I tried to take in the entire interior. Where had the noise come from?

Joel flashed his tactical light around the space. I lifted the wrench, ready to bash anything that leaped out at us.

Joel motioned toward the bathroom door. It was closed but it bucked as it was hit again.

“Fuck. Shoot first, man,” I whispered.

Joel put his finger to his lip.

He moved to one side and motioned toward my wrench. I moved to the other side of the door and lifted it as high as my head. Any higher and it would hit the ceiling. Joel shone his light at the floor. I grimaced because a puddle of blood had seeped out from under the closed door.

Joel reached for the door and triggered the lock.

The door swung open on silent hinges. Joel moved back, gun aimed at the interior.

I didn’t even get a chance to swing.

The Z was small, smaller even than Christy. It jumped off of a partially devoured body and hit the kitchen counter. I swung wildly because the monstrosity had scared the f’ing shit out of me.

I caught its leg as it tried to scurry toward the front of the RV, but it ripped free with astonishing strength.

Joel followed it, his light playing over the small body.

“Shoot that thing,” I said.

“Too noisy. And look how small it is.” He slung he gun around his shoulder and tugged out his big blade again.

“Shuffler,” I said.

“Can’t be.”

Joel was wrong.

Had to be a kid, but that wasn’t what horrified me. The little form was a shuffler and it was fast. Too fast.

With a howl it leap-frogged from behind the passenger seat, landing on me in two hops. I swung up but he hit me low. The little bastard was covered in gore and his hair was matted against his head with blood.

I tried to step back and my weakened ankle picked that moment to give. I fell, rapping my elbow against the linoleum floor, sending a wave of pain up my arm. Joel moved in and slashed at the little shuffler, but it was too fast. The kid hit a wall like he was some kind of ninja and then was on the floor behind my Marine buddy.

I rolled to the side and tried to heave myself up. Something touched my arm and I recoiled in horror. The corpse in the bathroom was still moving. A goddamn Z. The kid had been eating a Z! I wanted to scream in horror but I didn’t get the chance.

I’d had the bad fortune to land on my right arm, so I shifted the wrench to my left. I was strapped with the Colt .45, but in the tiny space I was afraid I’d miss and maybe hit Joel.

The shuffler lived up to its name by shooting forward on all fours. Joel abandoned swinging with the knife and kicked the kid. He didn’t get his whole boot into it, but the shuffler was smashed against the wall. He rolled over and stared at us from a few feet away, and his head turned quizzically from side to side.

His mouth was a horror of broken teeth and torn lips. His nose had been smashed at some point and was a purple knob. But that wasn’t the worst of it. As the little fucker prepared to leap again, his mouth opened up and a hiss came out.

“Diiieeee.”

My wrench caught him across the shoulder as he jumped. The little form hit the wall again and collapsed against the floor. Joel didn’t wait. He moved on the shuffler and crouched down to lock his knee over the kid’s throat.

The shuffler thrashed under him but Joel had at least a hundred and twenty pounds on the kid.

“Did that fucking thing talk?” I asked in shock.

“I don’t know,” Joel said and put his knife next to the boy’s temple.

The shuffler settled down and glared at us.

His eyes weren’t the milky white we’d come to expect. They were probably brown at one time, but now they were so bloodshot they looked like they were covered with little red spider webs. But there was something else back there, some hint of color that was unnatural.

“Joel. Look at his eyes.”

“What?” Joel looked up at me.

“His eyes. Am I seeing things?”

Joel stared hard then he jolted upright.

“The fuck?”

“Green? I swear I’ve seen the same glow in other shufflers, but I let it go as a trick of my imagination.”

“What are you?” Joel asked.

The shuffler gritted his teeth together and bubbled blood. His chest rose and fell.

“He’s breathing.”

“This shit isn’t real. Every one of the damn Z’s we’ve seen are animated corpses. This thing is something else. We should bag him.”

“With what?” I asked.

The bed had the pillow and blanket but both were splattered with blood that had dried into obscene patterns.

“Maybe we can wrap him in something,” Joel said.

“Yeah, we’ll put a leash around his neck and stick him in a box. On weekends you get to walk him.” I was done with this thing. He’d already knocked me on my ass once. I was ready to put him down.

The kid had been still for a few seconds, but launched a surprise attack. His hands whipped up and struck at Joel, but they hit the tactical armor and I doubted Joel even felt it. Then the little shuffler grabbed Joel’s leg and used his body as a lever to twist Joel to the side.

The kid fought like a demon and managed to get loose. I reached for him and caught his pant leg but he kicked free and was out the door before I could draw my gun.

Joel and I rushed to the entrance. He skipped the stairs, but I had to hobble down them like an old man. The shuffler leapt across the ground like a frog until he reached the little pond. He splashed into the center, like he was giving us a big “Fuck You,” and then leaned his head back and howled.

The sound rolled across the camp. Joel raised his rifle and rushed toward the shuffler. I couldn’t run so I dragged my handgun out, ready to shoot the little bastard.

“Don’t shoot! That’s the water supply!” Joel yelled back at me.

The Shuffler went quiet for a few seconds and then howled again.

Faces appeared in windows and doors opened. The shuffler splashed around up to his waist and then howled a third time.

Anna and Roz ran toward our location. Anna stopped long enough to pull her gun, then she was on the move again.

“No, Anna!” I called out.

Anna shook her head and pointed toward the back of the camp.

I looked toward the rear fence surrounding the park and gasped in horror.

The dead had arrived and they weren’t alone.

###

15:15 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

Among the horde that poured out of the forest were shufflers. A lot of shufflers. I’d never seen so many in one place. Back in San Diego, Joel and I had run into a small group of Z’s with a pair of the faster creatures almost herding the group along. Of course they weren’t actually directing; that would have been ridiculous. These were mindless creatures.

Ten, twenty, thirty – they kept appearing, and the only thing keeping them from us was a flimsy chain link fence.

Claude poked his head out of his RV. He looked from us to the shuffler and made a cutting motion with his hand next to his throat. He stepped out, a pistol in his hand, but then stopped and stared in horror at the Z’s.

“What have you done?” He was ashen.

Joel ran toward Claude. It was only a hundred feet but I wasn’t as fast. A few days of rest had done me good, but I was still in a lot of pain.

Anna stalked toward the water.

The shuffler lifted his head to howl again, but Anna didn’t wait around for him to unleash another one. She lifted her .357, aimed, and blew a hole through the kid’s chest.

The shuffler was blown off his feet and thrown a couple of meters across the pond. He splashed down into the water and floated on its surface before sinking. A few seconds later he floundered out of the water and hopped to the shore. He flopped over in a pool of blood. His hands clutched at the ground as he tried to drag himself toward his brethren at the fence.

Anna moved in on him.

He tried to get out another howl but Anna finished him with a shot that drove his forehead into the ground and left a mess of blood and brains. I’d been moving on the kid’s location and maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was just grass, but I swear I saw green among the muck left by Anna’s bullet.

“That’s our drinking water!” Claude yelled.

I spun from the sight of the kid and clambered toward him and Joel. Anna seemed to be more circumspect and simply stared at the mass of gathering Z’s.

“Anna, come on!” I called to her but she didn’t seem to hear me.

Joel and Claude were well into a heated argument. Jesus, we didn’t have time for this shit.

“This place is blown. Get your people together and get ready to move out!” Joel ordered.

“What have you done?” He stared in shock at us.

“It wasn’t us, it was that damn kid. He went insane when we opened the last RV.”

“Our home, our water – it’s all gone now.”

Anna finally moved to join us, checking her handgun as she walked. She spun the cylinder open, removed a couple of spent shells, and reloaded. She did it like a pro, hands moving but her eyes on us. She slapped the cylinder into place and reholstered.

“This is a fucking mess,” she said.

“Hey, man,” I continued to argue with Claude, “It was that kid. He’s some kind of weird and smart fucking Z. He called them here.”

Anna stared at me like I was insane.

“It’s true. Damn thing went crazy, busted loose, and then ran into the water and started howling,” Joel said.

“That’s why I took out the threat,” Anna said, but her tone left no doubt that we were idiots for letting the shuffler get away. “Smart or not, he was just going to bring more of them with all that noise.”

“He called them here. The shuffler called them,” I said, not really believing it. What Anna said had to be true. It was just the noise. Z’s that could call other Z’s to them? It was horrifying.

“Never heard one of those things make a noise other than moans or groans,” Joel observed.

“There might have been an army of Z’s out there but they were shamblers. They weren’t banding together like that until the little shit called them,” I told Joel.

“That is unfuckingthinkable.” Joel shook his head.

“Fools. I told you to leave things alone,” Claude said and stalked away.

Joel unslung his AR and dropped to one knee. He completed a quick inspection, lifted the rifle to his shoulder, and switched on his holographic site. The gun bucked against his shoulder.

The first shuffler took a shot to the head and flopped back, lifeless, into the horde. Joel fired again but a second shuffler moved too quickly and the bullet ended up catching a Z in the groin. The milky-white-eyed fuck didn’t even feel it; he just staggered back and then went at the fence again.

“Creed, get them organized and get them out of here. Everyone in his or her RV and ready to move as quickly as possible.”

Joel fired again and took a Z in the head. The guy had been thrashing at the fence, trying to get his hands through. The moans grew louder.

Claude had gathered the other travelers together and began issuing instructions punctuated with hand gestures.

“Everyone get ready to move. There’s too many for us,” I said.

“I have a solution,” Claude said.

He gave me a look that was pure hatred and then stomped away with Belle in tow. She glanced back at me but I couldn’t read her look. Was it pity? Sadness? Understanding?

How the hell was I going to get through to this guy? Someone would have opened the RV at some point and let the shuffler out. Too damn late to go back in time and just shoot the kid while he was stuck in the bathroom.

“We should fight,” one of the men said. He was dressed in shorts, a tropical shirt, and white tennis shoes. He looked like he was going to pick up a racket and find a court to play on.

Even if we set up a line of fire and everyone had automatic weapons, there was no way we could take them all out, and the noise would continue to draw others.

Joel’s gun rang out a few more times and that did not help matters. If anything, it only helped to reinforce the idea for these folks that they might have a chance here.

“Joel, that might draw more here,” I said.

“I’m going after the shufflers.”

“Edgar, let’s pack up,” an older woman said. “We’re too old for this.”

“I know a thing or two about fighting,” he said.

“You did when you were nineteen. Now come away,” she said and tugged at his hand. Her eyes pleaded with him.

He nodded at her and the two left the group. The others watched them walk away and that seemed to stir them to action, because they moved toward their RV’s.

Claude came back from his RV and he had an actual machine gun in hand. It was straight out of an old war movie. I’d seen a “Tommy Gun” before, but never up close. Over his shoulder hung a large green bag. He reached inside and took out a long magazine that resembled a stick instead of the curved mag’s I’d grown used to seeing.

Claude moved past Joel, toward the water.

“Claude, you can’t get them all,” Joel called.

Claude ignored Joel. He stopped when he was twenty-five feet from the fence and put the stock against his shoulder.

The gun was ripped up to the right as Claude unleashed a full magazine on the Z’s. Some were hit, but he mostly ended up shooting a whole lot of air. He slipped the magazine out, put it in a back pocket, and slapped another one home.

The Z’s were undaunted and more of them arrived. They were now a real threat to the fence. It buckled and nearly caved in as they pressed forward.

We didn’t have long.

“Anna, you with me? I’m taking the camper and leading this parade out of here.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said.

Joel gave up on shooting them and went to join Roz and Christy. They conferred for a few seconds.

“Joel?” I pointed at the truck we’d been occupying.

He gave me a thumbs up.

Others came out to join Claude. The shooting rang out all around us, and for a split-second I wondered if they had the right idea. If we put enough fire on the group of Z’s they all be cut down in minutes.

I realized the futility when others poured out of the woods all around us. They came in their disgusting masses, filthy, shambling, clothing hanging in shreds. Missing some body parts and dragging some others. There were fifty, then seventy-five. I gave up on counting and instead grabbed Anna’s hand.

“Leg good?” She looked up at me.

“Hurts like a bitch but I’m managing.”

“I told you to take it easy.”

“Ain’t nothing easy about surviving the zombie fucking apocalypse,” I replied.

Anna snorted but she kept her eyes on the men that were trying to stop a tidal wave with nets. Gunfire rang out over and over again, but the Z’s kept on coming.

“I got the fence!” Joel yelled and ran toward the gate.

“Meet you there,” I said as we reached the truck.

Then a sound reached me and my blood went cold.

“Oh no,” Anna said.

A huge truck rumbled up to the gate and stopped. Around it came a flood of cars and motorcycles. Claude’s gun continued to fire but he didn’t once look back. I could only guess it was due to the noisy gun and not because he no longer gave a damn.

Entry #19 – Home of the Brave

16:05 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

We’d tried to warn Claude. Hell, we were at fault ourselves. Instead of just leaving, we’d stuck around and pissed away any head start we might have had on McQuinn and his men. For all we knew, they’d been stalking the camp for a while. Had they seen Joel and me earlier in the day?

“Joel!” I yelled. “Regroup, now!”

Joel didn’t need a second warning. He was already running back toward us.

One of the guys took his helmet off and stared. I got a glimpse of a bald head, a thick mustache, and a dark goatee. Ah hell. It was McQuinn, and I had no doubt that he’d recognize us if he got a clear look.

If these guys were smart they’d see the threat of the Z’s and just piss off.

I ducked around the truck with Anna, but McQuinn spotted us and pointed.

Another pair of vehicles roared up on our location and stopped near the gate. We were completely blocked in.

Claude stopped shooting and turned to watch the new arrivals. He smiled and waved and started to walk toward the men.

“Mon Dieu!” he called out. “Just in time.”

He moved to the gate.

McQuinn’s men hopped out of their rides and formed a line near their leader.

McQuinn gestured as he directed his men. They weren’t interested in the Z’s at all and pointed at the RV’s. Why else would these guys be here if not for our supplies? We’d seen just how much they cared.

“No need to come any closer, old man. Just clear out of here. We’ll take all of those lovely vehicles and be on our way. Before you ask, this isn’t up for discussion.”

“You cannot take our homes! Are you animals?” Claude called back.

“McQuinn, we ain’t got time for this shit,” one of his men said loudly enough for us to hear.

Frank must have agreed, because he drew his gun and shot Claude through the chest.

The old man fell back, a look of shock on his face. Belle rushed to his side with a scream.

Joel reached us and ducked as the men that had been shooting at Z’s turned to take in this new opponent.

“Just leave and you live,” McQuinn yelled. “Walk away and don’t look back. Like I said, this ain’t up for discussion.”

I’d be exposed, but I didn’t care. I laid the Mossberg on the truck’s hood, snatched out my Colt, stood, aimed, and fired at McQuinn. Fuck this guy.

My first shot went wide, but my second blast got his attention as it whizzed right next to his head. McQuinn dropped, and that’s when the shit really hit the fan.

###

16:10 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

Say one thing for McQuinn. His timing always sucked.

If we’d been left alone we could have escaped this new hell. We’d have piled into RV’s, campers, trucks, or anything else with wheels and left the camp. Now we were blocked in. To the east lay the highway that we’d been stuck on for a day. To the west lay the unknown, so it made sense to head in that direction. The problem was the treeline and how to get through it. Our camper, even at full speed, would become a pile of warped metal if we challenged the growths.

So that left one direction out, and that was through McQuinn.

I’d like to say that there weren’t many of them and we could just shoot our way out, but as the seconds ticked by we were forced to observe the arrival of more and more trucks. Men and women with guns jumped out and formed up with something approaching military precision. They were the same motley assortment we’d seen before we had to blow the hotel location, and they were all well-armed.

Joel and I dove behind the truck. Anna dug out a handful of shells and did a quick count. Joel did the same. He was dressed in his IMTV tactical armor and wore an assortment of magazines, but even if he had a completely covered position, there was no way he could take out a quarter of this army.

I didn’t have to do much of a count. I knew how many rounds I had in the big Mossberg. I had even fewer for my Colt M45A1, but at least the mag was full and I had one in the breach.

Roz was caught out in the open with Christy. They ran, Roz dragging Belle by the arm, and hid behind the RV that Claude had occupied. Belle screamed and tried to dash back to her to her husband but Roz wasn’t having that and hauled her back.

“Can we bullshit our way out of this one?” I asked Joel.

“After you just tried to kill the man? I don’t fucking think so.”

“Good point,” I said and rolled to my right.

I didn’t have a good angle but I fired anyway and blew a windshield out. Maybe we could spook McQuinn’s half-ass force into leaving us be, but it would take a lot of firepower.

“I wish Donny and Markus were still here. Those guys might have been dicks but they had a lot of experience,” Joel said.

“And weapons,” Anna finished.

“What’s the plan?” I asked after the two quieted down.

I popped my head up and got a quick look before ducking again.

“Six coming in. They’re at the gate. They’ve stopped to open it.”

Behind us, the dead howled for our blood and pushed on the fence. Several shufflers moved through the horde and tested the fence by jumping at it, but even they couldn’t clear the top.

“They will move fast. They aren’t dumb and know the Z’s are a threat, so we won’t have much time. We can spook them, make ourselves seem bigger than we are,” Joel said

“It’s like you can read my mind,” I muttered.

“There’s only one way out I can see and it’s currently blocked,” Anna chimed in.

She had her big .357 in one hand and took a peek around the side of the camper.

“I’ve never thought I’d wish for the Z’s to break through a barricade,” I said.

“Huh?” Joel said.

“If the Z’s broke through, it would keep the guys busy. We could probably make a run for a section of fence next to the gate.”

Joel chewed on his cheek while he mulled something over.

“That’s a solid plan,” Joel said and looked back the Z’s.

There had to be seventy of them now, and at least a dozen of them were shufflers.

“I didn’t come up with any plan, Joel. What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“The Z’s. That’s the answer. We just need to get them on this side of the fence.”

Anna grinned at me for some reason.

“No, man. I told you. Enough of this hero bullshit. I’m not cut out for it. Besides, as soon as they see me, they’ll know who we are and nothing will stop McQuinn. Guy’s got it in for us. Let’s take our chance on hopping in an RV and making a new gate.”

“He’s got it in for you because you nuked half his trucks. That was a really brave move back there, Jackson,” Anna said.

If she started batting her eyes at me I was going to run into direct line of sight while screaming.

“That’s our Jackson Creed, man of the people and hero to all. He’s got women throwing panties at him.” Joel clapped me on the shoulder.

“Inappropriate,” Anna said. “I let him take them off.”

“Fucking kill me now,” I groaned.

I had about thirty more seconds of red-faced embarrassment before McQuinn’s voice interrupted us.

“Run. All ya’ll rabbits need to run. Run!”

“This is the play,” Joel said.

He leaned in and pulled us close.

McQuinn fired a few rounds into the air for effect. It had the effect of making me keep my head down.

When Joel was done laying out his plan I just stared at him.

“On three?”

“Ready,” Anna said.

“Wait one goddamn minute,” I protested.

“If you got something better, speak up. Otherwise, it’s go time,” Joel said.

I had nothing.

###

16:20 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

Joel made a bunch of hand signals at Roz. She lifted her hands in the air in the universal “what the fuck are you talking about” gesture. I mimed shooting at McQuinn’s men and she gave me the A-Okay signal.

“See how much easier that is?”

“If she’d have paid attention when I taught the signals, she would have gotten it,” Joel said.

“Was she paying attention to something else?” Anna asked pointedly.

I snorted.

“On three,” Joel said.

I counted down then popped up.

“Hey McQuinn, suck on this,” I said and opened up with the Mossberg.

The gun boomed in my hands as I laid down heavy fire on him and his men. They dove for cover, which meant kissing the grass. Roz poked around the corner and opened fire. She was shooting left handed and hit a whole lot of air, but to the guys on the receiving end it was probably terrifying.

Joel and Anna broke from cover and ran toward the camper we’d investigated earlier, even though that wasn’t their goal.

One of the car doors opened and someone returned fire. I did the smart thing and ducked behind the truck, then made myself small behind a wheel.

Then a couple of other jackwads opened up with assault weapons.

Roz dashed around to the other side of the RV when bullets ripped into metal and fiberglass near her position. She popped out and emptied her gun.

Rounds flew. Metal screamed. Guns boomed. It was the single most terrifying experience of my life and I’d seen some shit. I’d been chased by shufflers, stuck in a house with Z’s, and faced down Monster Ken and his idiot protégé. Nothing had prepared me for having ten guns leveled in my direction and fired at me. Not even the hotel had been this crazy.

The sound of an engine trying to fire up told me that Joel and Anna had reached their destination. It turned over one more time but all the starter did was grind. Well that was just fucking great.

Another try and the engine started with a backfire, then roared to life as they gunned it. Grass and gravel flew as the ambulance shot forward. Anna was probably behind the wheel.

Poor Joel.

The ambulance pulled around a large black RV, and then the sound of wheels biting into grass ensued. The tires spun until they caught on the soaked ground. I rammed a couple of shells into the Mossberg and did something stupid. I moved to the front of the truck and used the hood for cover as I popped up and unloaded. I was aiming at anyone dumb enough to move, but all I hit was metal. Still, it did the job of making them drop behind cover.

McQuinn had taken cover near the fence. I could see the side of his head, so I shifted the barrel and shot a blast in that direction. He flopped toward the ground but was back up in a heartbeat.

As I dropped behind the truck something stung the side of my head. I slid to the ground and reached for my ear. My fingers came back covered in blood. Then the pain came as I realized I’d been shot.

A line of fire cut across the side of my head as my nerves woke up to tell me what the blood was showing me. I probed desperately and then realized I’d been grazed.

Fuck this. The next shot might finish the job. But what was I supposed to do? Run? They’d cut me down in seconds.

As if they sensed my predicament, the jackwads subjected the truck to a number of hits. I crawled behind a wheel and tried again to make my big frame small.

Some of the residents didn’t take too kindly to strangers shooting at the camp. Gun barrels appeared from windows, and within a few seconds, gunfire was returned.

I wanted to dig a fucking hole and hide in it.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I popped up again and fired at one of the cars. Buckshot peppered the side and left little holes. A man who had been hanging out of an open window ducked back inside.

Blood dribbled down the side of my head and onto my shirt. I brushed at the wound with my arm but that made it hurt more. Fine, I’d just go ahead and bleed all over the damn place.

The ambulance roared as it backed up. Twenty-five feet, then fifteen.

One of McQuinn’s cars moved to the west side of the fence to flank us. I took a breath and wondered how long I’d last if I hid under the truck.

I loaded the last five rounds into the Mossberg and leaned it against the side of the truck. I tugged out the .45 and checked the breach. One ready. I lifted the gun and carefully aimed at the new threat. The first blast blew off part of their side view mirror. The next punched through the driver side window and exited through the windshield.

The driver hit the side window and shattered the safety glass. I aimed at him and fired. Missed.

The ambulance roared back until it hit the fence. The sound of rending metal reached me. I didn’t look. Instead, I steadied my aim. One thing I’d learned from Joel was that in the face of these kind of odds it was a good idea to make yourself as much of a thorn as possible, so I laid down more fire.

One of the RV inhabitants caught on to what I was doing and fired on the flanking vehicle as well. The barrel was long and dark and probably belonged to a hunter. The sound of the gun’s explosion was deafening even as others fired here and there. A pause, and then it fired again. The round punched into the side of the vehicle. The passenger rolled out while the driver ducked down.

A barrel appeared over the hood, and it was aimed in my direction.

I shot until I was dry, then slid another mag in with shaking hands. Any second now and one of those rounds was bound to find me. And this time, it wouldn’t just graze me.

The ambulance’s siren howled over the noise of gunfire, buying me a short respite.

I aimed again, shot at the door, then shifted to the left and fired in the direction of the car’s passenger. The hunting rifle boomed again, and that must have spooked them, because they didn’t return fire right away.

Even if I were able to run without pain, I’d never make it around the side of the RV that would offer shelter. I could try for the door but there was no telling if they’d even let me in.

Gunfire peppered the side of the truck again so I ducked back down.

The ambulance had done a job on the fence and on the Z’s around that section. The chain link was down, but the vehicle was half-stuck, unable to move forward.

Shufflers howled and raged toward the ambulance. It backed up a few feet to crush more of the fence into a group of Z’s, and that must have provided enough traction because it suddenly shot forward.

They’d accomplished the first part of the mission. But now our solution was likely to bite us in the ass. Z’s poured in, and they were led by a small army of shufflers.

###

16:30 hours approximate

Location: Trailer Park - Undead Central

“Stay down!” A man called to me from an RV.

I looked up to nod but he was already gone.

The flanking car’s occupants opened up on my position and I had no choice but to drop low and hide under the truck. Now I was exposed if anyone caught wind of my big frame. Not to mention the fact that if they managed to hit the gas tank, there was a real chance of a fire and I was not looking forward to running from flames only to get shot in the ass.

I slammed another magazine into the .45 – my last – and said a quick prayer. I wasn’t one to ask God for help, but what the hell. I was probably going to die in the next few minutes, so it couldn’t hurt. My dad used to say that, if the rapture happened, he was going to be a begging-for-forgiveness fool. Before that, everything was fair game. Thanks for the advice, Pops.

The RV came alive with the sounds of a large diesel engine turning over and the stutter of pistons firing under the hood. Wheels bit at the wet ground, and then it was moving. It picked up speed as it approached the fence, then swerved to the left as the driver aimed for a section between posts. I guess they’d decided that this location was fucked and it was time to retreat.

The jackwads fired on the RV, so I used the opportunity to lean out from cover and take very careful aim.

My target wasn’t much older than me. He wore a beat up camouflage jacket and sunglasses.

I exhaled and pulled the trigger.

The gun bucked in my hands and the guy, surprised, spun to the side and dropped his rifle. He tried to stand up, hands going to his upper body. He stared down at his chest. A second later he slumped to the ground.

The RV hit the fence and swerved again to swipe the car. As the RV struck, the car’s hood was smashed and the body of the vehicle was ripped to the side. The RV came up to speed again and roared toward the road. A few men took shots but they hit the back and sides of the big vehicle.

The RV spun to the right, nearly lost control, then corrected its course and headed for open road.

The ambulance had moved slowly to draw the Z’s after them. The back door popped open and gunfire echoed from the rear. A shuffler took a pair of blasts but was back on its feet in no time.

The rest charged the ambulance in a rush.

With siren wailing, it revved up and hit the gate. Lights exploded and the front of the ambulance crumpled as it plowed through the chain link and into a car that was blocking the way.

The ambulance spun the car to the side but came to a screeching halt.

Shufflers and Z’s poured into the camp.

The RV that had just made a rear exit was followed by an older truck towing a camper. It hit a small rise and I thought the camper would fly off, but it settled. The driver spun the wheel to the right and was on the road.

With chaos all around, I decided it was now or never.

I rose to my feet and peeked over the front of the truck.

The ambulance backed up a few feet and then wheels spun as it got stuck again. Do something! I wanted to shout at Joel and Anna. They were only a few yards from the men with guns, and it wouldn’t take the jackwads long to fill the cabin with lead. I shot at a man closing in on the truck, and then the first shuffler arrived.

He leapt into the air and landed on a man dressed in a thick leather jacket, driving him to the ground.

McQuinn himself stalked toward the fight, ripped the shuffler off the man, and then shot the enraged Z in the face.

The sound of Joel’s AR was unmistakable in the riot. He fired at some men and they kissed the ground.

The ambulance shifted into reverse and then backed up with spinning tires. It hit a shuffler and crushed him, but the vehicle couldn’t move forward.

Bullets peppered the cab and I caught a glimpse of Anna dropping to her side. The driver’s side window exploded in a puff of safety glass.

I tossed the empty Mossberg to the side and drew my .45 again. The handgun was running on empty, but I had some rounds in my pocket. Dropping to the ground, I reloaded the magazine with shaking hands.

I dug my wrench out from under the truck.

The Z’s bypassed the RV’s and were more interested in the fresh meat behind the line of cars. The fence provided a stopping point for many of them, but the shufflers were smarter and took to the downed gate, spreading out in their hunt for victims.

“Fall back, regroup at the rally point!” McQuinn called as he ran for a car.

The son of a bitch was still out in the open and trying to give orders when the ambulance started to wail. Now he wasn’t so damned cocky, not with a hundred Z’s closing in on his ass.

I moved to the rear of the truck and aimed at McQuinn. I tried to lead with the barrel, but when I fired my last few rounds, I knew I’d missed.

A pair of Z’s closed on me.

“I don’t have time for this,” I growled.

I took the first one with a swing of my wrench, connecting with the side of his head. I knocked the other to the ground and stomped his putrid head with my good foot.

Roz poked her head out and shot a Z, hitting it in the chest. She grabbed Christy and hauled her in my direction.

Christy looked terrified, but at least she had a gun – the little Sig that Anna had taken care of for a while.

The girls reached me, huffing and puffing, and Christy threw herself at me. I hugged her close, then let go and flattened a Z that had taken an interest in us. The man fell and didn’t get back up. Christy stepped back as a Z closed on her. She looked terrified but she stopped in her tracks, took a wide stance, lifted the gun, and shot the woman in the head from ten feet away. She fired again for good measure but the Z was already falling.

“What do we do?” Roz asked.

“Get in the camper and go. I’m going back for Anna and Joel,” I said and pointed at the crushed ambulance.

“You can’t do that! There’s a hundred Z’s headed this way. You won’t even get close.”

“I have to try.”

Christy looked up at me and she shook her head. Her eyes were filling with tears. “Don’t leave us, Jackson.”

The kid was right. I didn’t stand a chance, yet every bone in my body wanted to do something dumb. Something brave. I wanted to wade into the mess of Z’s, swinging left and right until I’d cleared a path.

Frosty growled low and the hair on her back stood up like a Mohawk. She bared her teeth and took a step away from us.

I spun around just in time to catch the shuffler as it leapt off the camper. A second one followed behind.

I fell back, swinging as I went and missing by a mile. The first shuffler hit the ground and was back in the air before I could think about getting into some kind of a fighting stance.

I got lucky and pushed it away as it tried to sail into me. His momentum carried him in the side of the truck I’d been hiding behind.

Christy shrieked and tried to aim the pistol, but she wouldn’t shoot. I knew what the problem was. Roz and I were in the line of fire.

The shuffler darted one way, then went in the other direction as Christy tried to compensate with the gun. It was almost on her when I reached the little fucker and grabbed his leg, jerking backward. He flopped flat to the ground so I picked him up by what was left of his waistband and lifted him into the air.

The second shuffler hit me from behind and drove us to the ground.

I rolled to the side and wasn’t gentle with my knees and feet as I fought them off. I connected with something soft, then drove my elbow back into the other shuffler’s face. Frosty darted in, grabbed a shuffler’s foot, and shook. The shuffler kicked back and Frosty let go with a whimper.

Roz waded into the fray and pulled a shuffler off me. She tried to shoot it in the head but missed when it darted forward and took her legs out from under her. Roz fell forward and landed on top of the shuffler. The gun sounded between them, and for a second I thought she’d shot herself.

Roz rolled to the side and I realized she’d hit the shuffler with another round. Instead of giving up the fight, it was more enraged.

My shuffler came at me again. She was slight, but not much smaller than Anna. I hauled off to punch her, but she was around my guard in a heartbeat and going for my face.

Her breath was rancid, reeking of rotted meat. As she closed in I saw, for the third time, something Joel and I had tried to deny. It was there in her eyes, some hint of intelligence hidden behind a light green glow. There was no mistaking it this time. Her eyes were not natural, not by a long shot.

I got my hand around her throat and held her up, but she drove her knees into my gut, almost bouncing up and down. My blood and skin were inches away and she wanted a taste.

Frosty dove in again, bit the shuffler in the leg, and jerked her whole body back. I used my sudden advantage.

The wrench came around in an arc as I gave up my guard. I hit her across the shoulder. I lowered the wrench and then shifted her head to the left. What little strength I had left went into the swing.

I hit her across the head so hard that part of it caved in. The shuffler shuddered, and then whatever had been driving her on gave up the ghost as she flopped, lifeless, across my body.

I had nothing left. I was exhausted, beat down, bleeding, and now I was covered by a damn shuffler.

Christy screamed again and fired but I couldn’t tell where she was firing from. I rolled to my side and tried to find my breath but it wasn’t there. The ground swam before my eyes as exhaustion hit me like a brick wall.

“No time for this shit,” I muttered and heaved myself to my feet.

Roz kicked the second shuffler in the head and Christy darted in. She pointed the little sig and fired. The bullet hit the shuffler in the side of the neck and ripped away skin and sinew. The shuffler wasn’t down, though, and looked like it was ready to leap again.

I lifted the wrench in both hands and then fell on her, the massive metal bar cracking across her back. I put everything I had into it and the shuffler let out something like a squeal as its spine was shattered.

She hit the ground and squirmed around us, so Christy shot her again. This time her aim was true and the shuffler was still.

“We need to go!”

Roz grabbed my hand and pulled. I staggered after her and looked back toward the ambulance. Something had gone wrong because it was no longer trying to move. I stopped in my tracks. A rush of Z’s moved in on the cars.

I decided that I’d use the hole the first RV had left in the fence and circle back around for Anna and Joel. No way I was leaving them behind.

Gunfire erupted around the ambulance. Anna popped up and fired at someone. They fired back from the safety of their car. Anna slumped to the side again.

I remember yelling her name, screaming as she fell. I remember breaking Roz’s grip on my hand and trying to reach Anna. Christy yelled at me but I didn’t hear her. All I heard was Anna’s voice in my head. I heard the things we’d talked about this morning. I heard her telling me I was an idiot for getting mixed up with her.

Roz slapped me so hard it rocked my head to the side.

“We. Need. To. Go.”

“Not without Anna. I have to save her.”

“No, Jackson, you have to help save Christy.”

She was right. I had to save Christy. I had to get them out of here.

We managed to pile into the truck. I barely remember Roz starting it. Christy tried to press the Sig Sauer into my hand but I just stared at it dumbly. The path ahead was filled with Z’s. Roz wove around packs and ran over those who were in the way. The truck bounced up and down as she gunned it.

I rolled down the window to get a look at the ambulance, convinced that we’d spin around and go back for them.

Then it exploded.

I lowered my head.

That’s when the shakes kicked in.

Entry #20 – The Road Ahead

17:00 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

Roz and Christy were safely seated in the back of the camper with Frosty. I looked toward the passenger side seat and thought of Anna Sails. I should be sitting over there while she drove and peppered me with dark looks every time I asked stupid questions. There was no way around it. We might not have been perfect for each other, but I felt her loss with a hollowness I’d never experienced before.

Anna had been ready for any fight but I’d also found something else in her, a fierceness that was hard to define. I’d learned a lot during our short time together, and it was with a heavy heart that I shifted into drive and found a section of road I could roll onto.

And Joel.

Joel “Cruze” Kelly, the best friend I’d ever had. When we first ended up in this fucking zombie wasteland we hadn’t been the best partners, but we’d made do and even become friends. He’d taught me how to field strip an assault rifle, given lessons on flanking maneuvers and laying down suppressive fire, and always had a comeback ready for my dumb jokes. I was a much better man for having him in my life.

Sappy, sure, but I’m not the same guy I was a few weeks ago. Back then, I’d been an alcohol swilling, foul-mouthed engineer who cared only about where we were headed and when we were getting underway.

I looked in the rearview mirror again, but the ambulance was a smoking ruin. The gunfire had torn the vehicle apart before it had caught fire. Then the Z’s had arrived, led by a full pack of shufflers, and made short work of McQuinn’s crew. Some went down, but many simply piled back into cars and roared away. I didn’t know if McQuinn was alive, and I didn’t care at this point. If he was out there and I ran into him again, I’d be more than happy to go slow while I took him apart. I hoped he was a fucking Z.

I pulled out to a crossroad where a couple of bodies lay next to a car. I took a right. The plan was to run parallel to the freeway for as long as possible and hopefully come across Camp Pendleton. Along the way I’d stop and pick up a map.

I looked down because my vision was suddenly cloudy.

###

17:30 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

We were a few miles out when I came across the car. It had most of a Z hanging off the back and it had been shot to hell. I was going to pass it when curiosity got the better of me. If one of McQuinn’s men was in the car, I wouldn’t mind dealing out a little justice with my wrench.

If I got lucky, it was Frank himself, although I was sure he’d gone down under a shuffler.

I stopped a few hundred feet from the car and stared for a minute. Nothing moved.

Roz slipped out of the camper and ran to my side of the truck.

“What’s up?”

“I think that’s one of McQuinn’s cars.”

“So let’s drive past it. Come on, Jackson. I want to be as far away from this place as possible as quickly as possible.”

“Me too,” I mumbled.

But I didn’t. Sudden white-hot anger filled me and the world swam in front of my eyes. I might have been crying again or I might have been overcome with rage.

I jumped out of the still-running truck and drew the little Sig. I ducked down and angled toward the car, ignoring the throbbing of my ankle.

I kept the gun up. The second anyone showed their face, I was going to blow it off.

Roz hissed at me to come back but I ignored her. She groaned and followed, flanking the car from the other side.

I moved up on the abandoned vehicle and found it empty. There was blood on the seat and some splashed on the door, but there was no one in sight.

The shops along the sides of the street were a mess. Most had smashed in windows and battered doors. A gas station bore graffiti that read, “Aim for the Head.” If the occupants of the car had found a store to hide in, there was no way I was going to find them unless I went door to door.

Something moved near the hood.

The car had come to stop next to a solid concrete barricade that might have been used to block access a few weeks ago. I’d heard from other survivors that the government had tried to quarantine entire cities but the virus had spread far too rapidly.

A gun barrel suddenly angled over the barricade so I dropped to the side of the car. I rolled my eyes when I realized how stupid I’d been. We could have driven by this car without a second thought.

“You better be an ace fucking shot because there are six of us,” I bluffed.

“What, you teach that dog how to shoot?”

I gasped and stood up. The gun barrel lowered and I rushed to the barricade.

I’ll never be able to explain the rush of emotions I felt when I found Joel Kelly with his back against the barricade, clutching his chest. But that wasn’t the half of it. Next to him, holding her arm as blood ran down her side, was Anna Sails.

“Oh fuck!” Because I’m good with words like that.

“Good to see you too, buddy,” Joel said.

“Anna, my Anna,” I said and reached out to brush the hair off her face.

“Jesus, Jackson, it’s been thirty minutes and you’re already a weepy little bitch,” Anna said through clenched teeth.

“I thought you two were dead,” I said.

“If I don’t get this bound, I may be in a few hours.”

“Are you hit anywhere else?”

Anna moved her hand aside to show where a couple of wounds were puckered along her upper left arm. I crouched next to her and put my hands on her neck and felt down to her shoulders. I went over her chest and then hips as I probed for wounds, but she didn’t gasp, she just stared at me.

“If you don’t stop feeling me up, you’re the one that’s going to get hit.”

Roz dropped next to Joel. She smiled at him, then put her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against the side of his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Armor saved me but I feel like I was kicked by a fucking mule. I might have a broken rib.”

“How in the hell did you escape? I saw the ambulance explode.”

“We weren’t in it. We got the hell out of that piece of shit and then used it for cover. One of McQuinn’s men was trying to crawl into his own car, so I borrowed it,” Joel said.

I imagined Joel Kelly politely asking the guy to give up his car. I had the feeling it didn’t go over like that.

“I got you, baby,” Roz said and kissed him on the cheek.

“Jackson,” Anna said, “It’s not that bad. Get Joel to the camper and then come back for me.”

I ignored her and put my arms under her legs and around her back, then gently lifted her off the ground.

“Shut up, Anna. I’ll get you fixed up. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, you’ll see.”

“Yes sir,” Anna said and put her head against my chest.

I carried her to the camper and ripped up a piece of bedding for her to press against the wound. It would have to do until we could find something better. Christy greeted her with a small smile and Frosty’s tail thumped against the floor so hard I worried that every Z within a half-mile radius would hear.

In the distance the shrill call of a shuffler broke the silence.

“I’ll be right back, Anna,” I said next to her ear. I didn’t want to take my eyes off her.

“Go get your pal before those Z’s show up and make this day into an even bigger mess.”

“Anna, I—”

“Shut up, Creed. Just shut up and come back to me. We’ll talk later,” she said.

“I was just going to say that I’m so glad you’re here. That’s all.”

She grimaced through the pain and managed to hit me with a smile that was something I don’t think I’d seen yet – because it was genuine.

###

07:30 hours approximate

Location: Not-sure-where, CA - Undead Central

It’s dark outside and this candle is just about burned to the table. We found a copse of trees off the road and pulled under them. The gas tank is still half-full so we have plenty for the next day or more. With any luck it will be enough to carry us all the way to Camp Pendleton. I never thought fifty miles would seem like such a long distance, but there’s a whole world out there just waiting for us to screw up. Just waiting to devour us.

Anna thinks she knows where Bright Star is camped but she’s worried about how long they were planning to be there. It could be that we arrive and the entire group is already gone.

Joel’s cool with that because he’s convinced that the Marines would never give up Camp Pendleton. I didn’t bother reminding him what happened to the naval base in San Diego.

Joel and Roz insisted that we take the bed because Anna needs to sit up during the night to keep pressure off her wounds. Christy fit in alongside Anna, so I’m taking what’s left of the bed, and that’s more than good enough for me.

I can feel Anna’s eyes on me as I finish this entry. I’ve looked up to catch her staring at me a number of times even though she tried to feign sleep. With her injuries, she is in a lot of pain but she doesn’t complain.

Tomorrow will be a fresh start. We’ll drive all day if we have to so we can reach the base.

For tonight, I’ve got this book. I’ve got food and water thanks to the camper. I’ve also got great friends and even a dog that thinks her place is with her head in my lap or in Anna’s. I’ve got Joel.

Best of all, I’ve got Anna, which is reason enough to keep getting up and kicking ass. We’re hurt, but we’re alive, and that’s enough for now.

This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.

The End

The adventure will continue in

Z-RISEN 3: POISONED EARTH

Coming in 2014.

Why I wrote the Z-Risen series

I’ve written a lot of zombie books over the years and had a lot of fun doing it. The Z-Risen series was born out of a conversation, over beers, with my friend Craig DiLouie in mid 2013. I had an idea to do a military themed series based partially on my own time in the United States Navy and pair up a Navy Engineer with a Marine. The two forces have always had a friendly rivalry and I thought it would make for a good story.

The first book was initially written as a free web serial and it was set in the same world as my Permuted Press book Beyond the Barriers--the books can be read independently.

I’m an indie author and I work very hard on my books. I hold down a full time job, have a family, and still manage to get in a few hours a day to write. I love hearing input from readers and the best way to provide that is via a review.

When you leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, or where ever you purchased a book, it helps other readers. This also helps the author out more than you can imagine.

So please, friends, if you can spare a few minutes of your time, go and review Z-RISEN: OUTCASTS on amazon.

CLICK TO REVIEW

Be honest and know that I read every review and use feedback to better my writing as well as have a positive impact on future novels.

Watch for Z-Risen: Poisoned Earth in 2014.

06:12 hours approximate

Seattle, WA – currently free of dead

This is author Timothy W. Long and I am still alive … and writing.

Read the Permuted Press novel that inspired the Z-Risen series.

Beyond the Barriers is a military style zombie book set in the same world as Z-Risen.

When the dead rise, Ex-Special Forces soldier Erik Tragger flees to the mountains to wait out the end of the world. Cut off from civilization for months, he returns to find cities ruined and ruled by the walking dead.

Tragger reluctantly joins a group of survivors with a plan: flee to Portland where humanity is carving out a stronghold. But along the way they face opposition at every turn—the dead, rogue military forces, looters... and a new enemy more dangerous than any they have yet encountered.

Among the stumbling, mindless zombies walk the ghouls. The ghouls are living dead creatures that not only strategize and plan, but also possess the ability to guide their shambling brothers.

With weapons and supplies dwindling, Erik and his companions will faceoff against millions of the dead who have but one goal: complete eradication of the last of the living.

Check out BEYOND THE BARRIERS on Amazon

A sample chapter from:

AMONG THE LIVING

A zombie novel

By Timothy W. Long

The dead walk. Now the real battle for Seattle has begun.

When a gas leak causes the National Guard to forcibly evacuate the neighborhood, Lester isn't going anywhere. The former dope pusher has a new clientele… the kind that require him to deal lead instead of drugs.

Mike, a newspaper reporter, suspects a conspiracy lies behind the chaos. He’s driven to find the truth, even if it means dragging his beautiful co-worker into danger.

Kate has a dark secret: she’s a budding young serial killer. As society collapses, her skill in dealing death may be the one thing that can keep her alive.

These survivors, along with others, are drawn together in their quest to find not only the truth behind the spreading apocalypse, but also to escape the madness they face at every turn.

“I really loved the entire overall plot, the characterization as a whole, and the gory, action-packed scenes. This is a good, solid zombie book and I highly recommend it.” —Rhiannon Frater, author of FIRST DAYS: AS THE WORLD DIES

Prelude

Lost, and for a time so is he. Breath rasps in and out as her lungs begin to fail.

Cold, and so is she. Her hand is ice, a rigid claw that grips with the force of a newborn. Skin translucent, wisps of gray hair that struggle to rise as he strokes her arm. Bone thin, old, past her prime and yet barely in her fifth decade.

Hours spent by her side, and for it her eyes opened but once. She stared past him at the ceiling as if it held less recrimination than his gaze. Milky and gone to smoke, at least the one on the left, while the other is clear and the bluest blue he has ever seen. They pulled him in from the first, dug into his soul and now, twenty-two years later, it continues to haunt.

The syringe is cool as he rolls it across the tabletop. He picks it up again to feel the weight of the world. Clear and languid, the liquid rests, unassuming.

If it does what he asks, what he hopes, it will be her savior and perhaps his.

The brush of alcohol, but she doesn’t stir. Then a stab and the deed is done. Just a waiting game now, and for all the long months he has been away, he will not leave her side until it works—or kills her.

It may be some time before the tumor shrinks. That thing that looks like a balloon in her head. It grows daily as if pumped full of air; the pressure must be immense.

The virus is ‘programmed’ to seek out the tumor and enter it. There it will begin eating the thing with a vengeance, his vengeance. Minutes are all it needs to start working, maybe days until she is coherent.

She sighs and her head stirs. He leans over and presses his lips to dry skin next to her pale mouth. Then she is silent once again, and he waits.

The light from the window paints landscapes across the blankets. Mountains made of knees, hips for land fall, waist a pool of lake water. Later, night slips in and the painting is reversed.

She stirs again, and one eye drifts open. It is clear for the first time in as long as he can remember. The other is still milky and may never recover from the damage.

“Herb ...” Just a whisper, and he has to lean close.

“Ruth?”

“Herb, I feel strange … like my blood is on fire.”

“Try to relax, my love. Everything will be back to normal soon. Very soon now.”

“It’s not okay; it hurts. My head feels like it’s going to explode. ”

“I did it, Ruth. All those years of research and I have the cure. Finally. I gave you a shot that is killing the tumor.”

“I don’t think so, Herb, I don’t think so.” Her eye moves back and forth as if trapped. Her head shakes, and her body shifts under the blanket. The dead eye turns and looks past him at a spot on the wall.

Blood pours into the other one, beneath the surface of the cornea. Within seconds, it is crimson. One side of her face slopes down as if it is about to slide off her head. Oh God, a stroke! He grabs his bag from the floor and paws through it as she starts to shake. She thrashes on the bed, foam bubbling from her mouth.

He flips the bag over her body and continues to look through it as he holds her down. He is sure he has Coumadin, but Aspirin will do as well, just in case, oh God—just in case. She writhes, and he feels her heart beating through her chest. It rumbles, pounds and then, to his horror, slows down and shudders to a halt.

“Ruth, my God. RUTH!”

“Herb,” she sighs then sits up in bed and sinks her teeth into his exposed neck. He screams, but not for long.

Dead, and so is he.

Part One

Day 0 – Lester

“Oh my God, what is she wearing? It’s like a cross between a robe and a big ol’ cow.”

“Don’t know, babe. She looks like a sleepwalker to me.”

Angela lies sprawled between two chairs with her legs poking out of a summer dress so she can soak up the afternoon sun. She studies the shambling figure through reflective sunglasses. A floppy pink hat shades the rest of her perky face even though the line of sunlight cuts her torso neatly in half.

The street has been quiet for a couple of hours. Neighbors used to poke their faces out of similar houses along Cole Avenue. They used to walk by with heads held high, aloof, as if oblivious to the fact that they had renters such as Lester and Angela near their precious property value.

Then those fuckers in trucks showed up, drove around yelling through bullhorns about a gas leak, get out, go somewhere else, get a couple days’ clothes, the Red Cross are standing by, so are hotels—bring your credit card. Screw that was Lester’s opinion. There was no way he was leaving his rented house, his supply of weed and alcohol.

A quick call to his attorney informed him that they couldn’t make him leave. They can’t make you, and don’t you let them fucking try it! He could picture Jerry in his office, walking around with that headset plastered to his ear while he screamed about Lester’s rights. He gets worked up because he is a good lawyer, also because he does coke, which he buys from Lester by the truckfull.

So they stayed inside while the guys passed by in their trucks with their green clothes that provided about as much camouflage as if they were dressed in bright red with  ‘Eat At Joe’s’ balloons over their heads.

Some of the people who looked like sleepwalkers had been rounded up.  That’s when Les knew something was not right in Dodge. Not fucking right at all. Other men came. These were suited up in puffy white outfits, sealed up like they expected a chemical attack at any moment. They patrolled the streets after the soldiers and rounded up a couple of the people who were acting strange. Les had just hit his bong for the second time when one of the walkers attacked a guy in a space suit. He was crazy, like a rabid dog, thrashing and trying to bite the guy. A soldier jumped out of a truck and shocked the guy with a Taser. He hit the ground like a brick, then flopped around like a fish out of water.

But he was back on his feet in half a dozen heartbeats. Lester started giggling at the guys in white—the guys in green for that matter.

Then they brought out the electric guns. Poor bastard. That laid him out for the count. They wrapped him in some kind of plastic that covered him from chest to toe. Then they put something that looked like a hockey mask on the guy like he was Hannibal Lecter himself.

“There are guys who would pay big money to be tied up like that,” Les chuckled.

“That’s sick, Les.” Angela frowned.

Lester and Angela were lying upstairs, peering through slits in the blinds. This let them watch the action without being seen, or so he hoped. They lay side by side, and she kicked her legs up and down like a hyper kid who’d gotten into the chocolate chip cookies. She was also smiling from the weed, a big dopey grin that must reflect the one on his face. Not even the horror outside could crack their glossy stoned smiles.

The house was locked up tight as a drum. When the soldiers came to pound on the door, he and Angela stayed silent except for the sound of the bong gurgling. They fought down giggles as they played grab ass on the guest bed. The invaders yelled and banged on the back door next, but they didn’t break it down.

A shot rang out crisp and loud, shattering the already fucked-up morning with its retort. This would pretty much set the pace for the next two days of Lester’s life.

He slid closer to the window. Did they just shoot someone? And, sure enough, there was a man down in the street bleeding from a shot to the chest. Then the poor injured bastard struggled to his feet, and one of the soldiers shot him in the head. Just stepped up with his M-16 and put a bullet in the guy’s brainpan like he was going for a walk in the park. Blood and gore exploded outward, splattering the street. The noise was gruesome, like a bowl of spaghetti dropped on the floor, and was somehow louder than the actual gunshot. Suddenly the pot was no barrier to shock.

“... the fuck?” he muttered. He stared as the men moved on, but they left the guy in the street. That was yesterday. No one had returned to claim the body.

Now a couple of the walkers have come to make a social call.

Lester raises the rifle to his shoulder and looks into the scope. The figure leaps into view, red from scalp to sternum with a red stain down her robe. She is not a small girl; her neck seems to merge from her chin into a steady flow of skin that marks the beginning of her chest. The white robe is covered in cow spots and blood. Lester can’t help but think of a slaughterhouse.

“This ain’t a damn gas leak. They’re hiding something from us. All those soldiers here yesterday, driving up and down the road in their Humvees.” He lowers the gun and looks at Angela. “It’s bullshit. They’re covering up whatever made these people sick.” He says people because a few of them have wandered past the house. Some walking, some shambling, and some loping like dogs.

“Deader is missing an ear and part of her left arm,” he says in a cold voice. They’d escaped to the shade outside after sitting in the stifling house all morning, but Angela moved her chairs closer to the edge of the porch to tan her legs.

Lester is in a shitty mood. After the power went out in the middle of the night, he started sweating from the humidity and had a hard time going back to sleep. Finally he split an Ambien in half and washed it down with some lukewarm water. He would have taken a full one, but he didn’t want to be a zombie in the morning. So he woke up to sheets drenched in sweat, body awash in its own perspiration.

Then he tried to make coffee with hot water from the tap, but it tasted like shit. He ran it until it was steaming, too. He even let the grounds sit in the water for a few minutes and then strained the mess through a coffee filter. It tasted like some weak-ass tea. He contemplated boiling water in the fireplace, but that would just heat the house and add to the misery. He dug out an old bottle of caffeine pills instead, and chugged a couple.

“Deader?” Angela asks.

“Heard one of the soldier dudes call them that yesterday when they were in the yard looking around my house. I should sue the bastards for trespassing.”

“They were trying to help, Les. They were trying to evacuate everyone, including us.”

“It’s bullshit, babe. Do you smell a gas leak? I sure as hell don’t. Someone fucked up, and now these people are sick. We saw them execute one like he was a criminal. Do you really want those guys ‘escorting’ us off Queen Anne?” In his contempt, he practically snarls his words.

“I don’t know, Les. I’m scared is all.”

“Don’t be, babe. We got food, we got booze, we got weed and we got fucking guns … and the guys with guns always win.”

He watches her as she sighs and looks toward the end of the street that curves down the hill. The hill that leads downtown, the hill lined with trees and cars, other houses and the only exit out of the cul-de-sac.

“Do you think we can go to town tomorrow? I really need some new polish. I hate this shade, I just hate it,” she points at her feet while wiggling her toes.

“We’re going to need food soon enough, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea yet, babe. I’d rather those soldiers not see us.”

She sighs heavily and looks toward the end of the road again. “If they see us now, they might kick us out.”

“They can’t! Jerry said they can’t make us leave, they can just advise us that there is an emergency.”

“Don’t we have, like, a radio or something?”

“Got rid of it when we got the satellite.” He stands up for a stretch.

“When this is all over, we should get a radio that runs on batteries or something. You know, for emergencies.”

“What the fuck is this? If it ain’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.”

“I know, but we are safe, I mean it doesn’t feel like a real emergency. Hey, maybe we could get one of those windup radios; they charge when you crank them.”

“Good call, babe. It’ll be the first thing I buy when we get to a store. Meanwhile, I have something you can crank on.” He reaches down and shifts his junk in his shorts.

“So,” she lets the syllable hang in the air as if considering it. “Are you saying that if I crank your cock, news will come out of you? Where will it come out of exactly?” She shoots him a full pearly white grin.

Lester takes his seat and reaches into the cooler. The ice melted off yesterday, but the water in it is still reasonably cold. He extracts a beer, a microbrew with a red label. They are running out of the cheap stuff, but he has been saving this one.

“It’s not even noon. Isn’t it too early to start?” Angela whines.

Bubbles hit the back of his throat, rough and bitter. After the first swallow, the rest goes down clean, so he drains a quarter of the beer and lets out a long belch.

“Hand me a Diet Pepsi.”

“Won’t taste good warm,” he says.

He pushes cans and bottles around until he locates one on the bottom. He pulls it out and pops the tab in one smooth motion before handing it to her. She smiles over the top and takes a few swallows, then belches with the back of her hand over her mouth.

“’Scuse me.”

Lester reaches over and pats her bare knee. He lets his hand linger, sliding up her smooth leg.

“Oh look, here comes another one!” She jumps up excitedly like a little girl at an ice cream parlor. Lester glances to the side and watches the cloth fall down her legs, covering her tanned skin.

A figure comes around the corner and stumbles over a body.  It’s another girl, but this time dressed in a business suit with a button-down shirt. She wouldn’t attract attention if it weren’t for the blood staining the white and black clothing. She seems to be missing part of her forehead, and she is limping.

“Oh my God, is that Marlene?”

“Marlene with the big fake boobs?”

“Is that how you remember our friends, by the size of their tits?”

“In her case, it’s the only thing she has going for her. She is kind of a bitch. At least to me.”

“I think she is into women … well, sometimes. She usually has a guy with her, though.”

“She’s into women? Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Sicko.”

“What’s sick about it? Have you ever been with a woman?”

Angela puts her hands on her hips and swivels to meet his eye. He can’t tell if she is mad at the question. The shade of her hat droops over her eyes so they look half lidded.

“No, and I don’t want to.”

They are quiet for a moment, and then she says, “Why, do you want to see me with a woman?”

“Of course I do, but only if she isn’t a deader.” Lester laughs aloud, sits back in his chair and clutches his stomach.

“Men. Jesus,” she sighs and then turns her attention back to the new deader. “I think it is Marlene. Hey Marlene!” Angela yells.

The woman continues to stagger toward the fence. She stumbles over the body of the dog they had to shoot yesterday because it was chewing on the ankle of the guy left to rot. It was worrying at the flesh like a bone left in its kennel. Big sucker too. Rottweiler, or so Lester thinks.

Marlene recovers and does her mindless waltz toward their house. Moo cow girl turns to look at her but continues stumbling around in a full circle until she is staring at Angela again.

Lester raises the rifle and studies the other girl’s chest.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Poor Marlene. Remember when we had that picnic last summer with her and that guy, what was his name?”

“I called him assclown, but I think his name was Chuck. All he did was talk about his stupid Mustang, like I can’t afford one of the new ones. Is she still with him?”

“Babe, she isn’t with anyone. She isn’t even with herself right now. Oh my God! Poor Marlene.”

“Should I take her out?”

“No! She used to be our friend.”

Your friend, maybe.

Their friend—make that Angela’s friend—reaches the fence but keeps trying to walk forward like a retarded kid. The chain link fence forces her to stop, but she swings her arms in their direction as if trying to reach the twenty or so feet. She bares her mouth in a horrid visage of broken teeth, tongue held on by a hunk of muscle, and a splatter of dried blood on her lips and chin. Her shirt hangs open, but not enough for Lester to get a glimpse of those big boobs. Not that he wants to; her skin is the same putrid gray shade as her swollen tongue.

A bag dangles from one shoulder as if she were on the way to the store.

“Is that her Coach purse?” Angela moves down the stairs.

“What?”

“That purse, it was her pride and joy. She told me once it cost a grand.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. For a bag?”

“Get it for me, babe,” she pleads, studying him up and down, her eyes promising him great things if he does. Great things that happen in bed.

Another figure marches the drunken waltz around the entrance to the cul-de-sac, this one a large black guy wearing only a pair of pants. With each step, he leaves a bloody footprint. He pauses midstride, takes in the scene and approaches Marlene.

“Hurry, get it for me!” She turns and leans over so he has a flawless view down the front of her dress. She isn’t wearing a bra, and he marvels at the sight even though he has seen her large breasts countless times. There is something about a peek, that taste of voyeurism of which he never tires.

“Okay, but you need to cover me.”

“What do I do?” She does a little dance in place, clutching her hands together in front of her stomach like a child getting an allowance.

“Take the pistol and follow behind and to my side. If she gets too grabby, I want you to shoot her.”

He has his guns laid out on a little table with bullets and cleaning gear. He just went over the 9mm, figuring he may need to use it in the near future. He got the thing in a deal when one of his regulars didn’t have the scratch to pay for some coke.

Angela picks up the pistol and studies it for a moment.

“Where’s the safety thingy?”

He takes it from her hand and slips the magazine free, then peers at it. It’s packed with copper heads. He slams it back home and jerks the barrel back so there is one in the chamber. Trigger cocked, he slides the safety off and hands it back to Angela.

“Careful, that thing is ready to fire. All you have to do is aim and pull the trigger. Make sure you have a clear line of sight; don’t shoot me in the back.”

“Okay.” She raises the pistol in both hands and sights along the barrel, one eye squinted, head cocked to the side, looking sexy as hell as far as Lester is concerned.

“After this, we should go inside. I want to show you my other pistol.”

“Get me that bag and I’ll do anything you want, babe.” She grins.

Lester steps off the porch and into the muggy July sun. Even Seattle has brutally hot days when it decides not to rain. This is one of them, and he is not looking forward to this evening, when the sun will heat the house to a hundred degrees. With no power, there is no need to haul the air conditioning units upstairs like he has been promising to do for the past week.

Angela steps behind him and to the left, gun raised and pointed at her friend.

“Sorry, Marlene,” she whispers.

Lester steps up to the fence and bats Marlene’s hand aside. He grabs at the purse, but she flails her arms around, trying to get a grip on him. Her mouth opens and closes mechanically, chewing on the chunk of tongue that hangs loose. He tries not to look at the bloody gums, the broken teeth, but her terrible breath draws his eyes. It smells like rotten meat. Garbage left in the sun too long. Death.

He turns his head to the side, trying to avoid her breath, then he smacks her grasping claw away and grabs at the purse again. There is a little blood on the shoulder strap, but the rest seems to have avoided being splattered. He tugs the strap down her arm, but her other hand comes around and nearly cracks him across the face.

“Fuck, Marlene, just gimme the goddamn thing. You don’t need it anymore.” He slaps her hand as he gets ahold of the strap again. He yanks back and then falls down as she leans forward to take a bite out of his cheek. She snaps forward quicker than he thought possible, nearly gets a taste too.

Lester’s teeth click together painfully as he lands, but he has the leather Coach purse his girlfriend wants. The other deader has approached the fence, but only one arm seems to work. He collides with Marlene, and the two stagger. He groans loudly, eyes fixed on Lester. Marlene stumbles into the large woman in the moo cow robe, and they both go down in a heap.

Then Marlene is back on her feet and reaching over the fence for him. Lester scoots back on his butt, hands doing a crab walk as he tries to scurry away. The big guy is leaning over the fence when Lester gets a look at the guy’s eyes. They are rimmed with gray, filled with blood. It’s like something out of a horror movie.

“If you shoot him, I don’t think it will improve his looks,” he calls to Angela. “Fucker’s got the worst case of red eye I ever saw.”

The shirtless man sets his gaze on Angela and starts grunting while pushing against the fence like he is humping it. Lester is disturbed. The guy has a medium build but is completely bald. The way the guy is going at the fence reminds him of a child molester or something.

“I think he likes you, babe.” Lester frowns as he comes to his feet. He carefully extracts the pistol from her hand and points it at the ground.

Angela studies the man, then steps closer. Lester grabs at her arm, but she slides away with a little shooing motion.

“I just want to get a closer look. I won’t let him touch me.”

“Just be careful.”

She ignores him and approaches the fence but keeps a cautious foot or two from the man’s grasping hands. Marlene joins the guy at the fence, and they wave their arms like a pair of drunks reaching for last call at a bar.

“Hey Marlene, you in there?” his girlfriend asks.

The deader shuffles back and forth, putting more pressure on the fence. The black guy reaches forward so far that he has to raise one leg to make the stretch. It comes up and close to the top of the fence. Then it makes the connection between the tiny barriers holding him back from the couple, and he practically staggers over the chain link.

“Get back, Angela, I’m gonna take him out!”

Angela stares at Marlene for another second as if transfixed by her eyes. She stares and stares and doesn’t see the other deader fall forward, hand outstretched toward her. He lands face first but not before grabbing the top of her dress and ripping it down her chest. Angela takes a hasty step back and covers her now-bare breasts as if there were any need to be modest in front of the mindless things.

Lester doesn’t really care for a peek now; all he can think about is the fact that one almost got his girl! He pulls her back roughly and then shoots the guy a few times. The deader thumps and bashes into the ground as the bullets strike. Puffs of blood rise from his back, neck, and head as they punch through his body. Then, with a groan, the guy goes still.

“Son of a bitch!” Lester howls. “Don’t you get it? You stay on that side of the fence and you get to live.” Fucker fell in his yard. How many more will figure that out?

Check out AMONG THE LIVING on Amazon

A sample chapter from:

AT THE BEHEST OF THE DEAD

The first novel in a new urban fantasy series

By Timothy W. Long

"I highly suggest picking this one up today!" 4.5 out of 5 -- sciencefiction.com

"Timothy W. Long brings his undead wit and wiseassery to the urban fantasy genre to fearsome effect. Necromancers, demons, and mayhem...what more could you want?" -- Tim Marquitz, author of the Demon Squad series

Phineas Cavanaugh likes to play with dead things. As a centuries-old necromancer he is Seattle's foremost investigator on the recently deceased, and he hasn't met a corpse he didn't like.

Hired to track down a serial killer, Phineas and beautiful Detective Andrews face off against an enraged beast that should not exist. Things go from bad to worse when is summoned to probe the murder of his teacher and oldest friend.

Phineas learns the hard way that the two cases are related when a demonic force attempts to devour him. Now, if he is to survive the night, he will have to join forces with his former flame, a witch named Glenda; Frank, a Native American changer, and a snarky demon--who may or may not be--under Phineas's thrall.

With the power over the dead at his command, Phineas' destiny leads to a showdown in Hell, where the price of failure may be his soul, and nothing less than the very Earth itself.

Enjoy a sample chapter:

At the Behest of the Dead

I was up to my ball sack in muck, rain puddles, overgrown grass, and more than a few discarded beer cars before I realized that my prospects for the night weren’t looking so hot.

I should just get the words “expect the unexpected” tattooed on my palm. That way I could smack the hell out of myself every morning.

It should have been an easy job, but there were a couple of things I’d learned in my short existence. No job is ever what it seems and the client always fudges some facts.

It was dark, without even a proper mist. If I was going to be traipsing through the woods at oh-dark-thirty, the least the ground could do was offer up a little bit of creep factor. Of course it was raining. You can’t go anywhere in this damn city without the clouds rolling in and pissing on you. Then there was the moon--also a no-show. Probably hiding out behind all the clouds. Not that I could see either one since looking up just got me a face full of water.

In my mind I was creating the warlock version of a golf umbrella. Big puff of black that would expand when tossed into the air. I had the whole thing worked out. A couple of glyphs to control it, kick some elemental ass for the propulsion mechanism, and make them get along with some words of binding.

That’s when I spotted him.

The demon was a little guy. Like someone had taken your garden-variety salamander, made it the size of a fat pug, then tossed it into a lake of slime and hate. There were at least eight eyes angled around its head, and when he snuffled the ground they shifted in every single direction of the compass. I got dizzy just trying to track all his ocular movements. His mouth was a horror that gave him the appearance of a freaky pie with teeth. Skin mottled grey, slimy, and in some places slack. It hung over his back legs, and when he shuffled forward all that mass shifted around his body. It sounded like he was covered in half filled water balloons. If I’d had a dart gun, I could’ve dumped a gallon of demon ooze on the ground.

He lowered his head and sniffed. Looked up and stared at the clouds as if distracted. I held my breath because I wasn’t sure if the little bastard had nostrils. Rain pelted the bizarre mouth, letting water run out of a pair of gills along its neck.

I held my breath until I got dizzy. If I made a noise, moved a millimeter, it might well become aware of me, and then I would either be in for a fight or a test of its loyalties. Of course it could always ignore me and continue to hunt whatever it was here for. As long as it wasn’t me, I was happy to let Mr. Shifty Eyes snort bugs and mud for the rest of the night.

I thought relief had arrived when I heard barking in the distance. Mr. Demon on the hunt? Meet your victim. But the evil pug didn’t even need to move its head.

Shit! I decided that breathing was an important part of staying alive and spent a few seconds sucking in air as quietly as possible.

He took a ponderous step away from me, and then one more.

Earlier, I had pulled down my eyelids and rubbed a thick ointment onto them. It burned like fire and made me want to reach for a gallon of saline solution. But after a few minutes the burning gave way to a dull itch that felt like summer allergies. It sucked, but it was also a small price to pay for night vision. It wasn’t perfect. I didn’t get a crystal clear version of the world like a changer might, but it was at least as good as the goggles the military employ. I knew this because I had tried to sell the army the formula. That didn’t sit too well with the league. There was talk of stringing me up.

Others just wanted to kick my ass. Arcanist’s have no sense of humor.

The demon didn’t give up. He just stared in eight directions while his nose sucked at the ground. I could take my chances with a blast of lighting, or maybe freeze him in place until the morning then try to have a unit pick him up. That would be a funny conversation.

“This is Phineas Cavanaugh. I need a demon picked up at Alear Park in Auburn Washington. How long until you guys can get here?”

“How long until you can piss off?” would be the likely answer.

The safest thing to do would be to leave the damn thing alone and get back to my house. Then I could come back in the morning and try to pick up a remnant of Clarence Whitfield, the dead guy I was hired to track down.

Yep. That would have been the smart thing to do.

The problem was I loved a challenge, and it sometimes got in the way of the common sense side of my brain.

I slashed my hand through the air and mouthed words. This would keep my scent hidden. My pinky finger was covered in a potion of dubious design. Something I had developed all by myself. The league didn’t like that too much either. If warlocks were going to be coming up with new formulas, they wanted to profit from it. That’s why they got pissed about the night vision goop, too. It wasn’t that I stepped out of line and spoke out of school; it was because they weren’t getting a cut.

This park was an unlikely place to find a warlock, and even more unlikely to find someone of my calling, a necromancer. We preferred to keep a low profile since no one wanted our filth around. Genus Warlockus Necromanus were the whipping boys of the warlocks. We got no respect because we liked to dig in the dirt and talk to the dead. But were demonologist any better? I’d certainly never met one that I liked. Who wanted to consort with denizens of the six wards? All demons did was lie and stink up a room. Plus, if you lost your cool or spoke the wrong words they were just as likely to haul your screaming ass back to their fiery pit as look at you.

But you mention warlock to someone and they get an uncomfortable look. Say necromancer and they suddenly have business in another state.

Even the league didn’t like necros, though we got officially sanctioned not long after everything went public in the nineties. That was a fine time to live through. The nightly news centered on witches, warlocks, and all manner of ‘Fae’ creature that had kept their asses well and truly hidden for the last few centuries.

Then someone opened their big fat mouth. At first he was a laughing stock, but after making a skeleton not only walk around on live television but also attempt to speak, it became clear that there was more involved than a charlatan’s tricks. He was ostracized, kicked out of the league indefinitely. Warlocks cursed his name and changers crapped on his lawn.

It took me a long time to get back in everyone’s good graces.

But that’s another story.

There was no chance of me finding a trace of blood in this park. I had an idea where the murder had gone down, but any bloodstain evaporated the second the rain arrived. Even if I had some high tech police spray to squirt all over the ground, I’d need a biplane and a couple of thousand gallons.

The park was a one off. Converted from a cow pasture and farm house back in the 70s, now it was mainly used as a dog park. During the day you could bring your golden retriever and work off its energy, if you had a strong enough arm. At night, it was closed and silent.

I’d spotted a small rise to the east that was surrounded by tall maples. It had made a perfect location to land behind and hide my pitchfork. Then it was just a quick half-mile jaunt that saw me cursing my ridiculous robes. They dragged across the ground and created a soggy mess that soon soaked into my boots, socks, and jeans. I probably looked like a refugee from a renaissance fair.

The walk wasn’t bad and went a long ways toward waking me up. I should have been in bed, but the widow had been very specific about the place where her Chucky had passed while walking their Pomeranian. It made me suspicious of his death. Pomeranians? Really? A man can only take so much – maybe he jumped in the river.

I slid from behind a tree and motioned again to nullify my scent. The potion worked but only in five minute spurts. And I wondered why it’d been a financial failure.

I slid a potion out and worked at the cork top with my fingertips. The bottle itself was a hundred years old and had seen more action than a roman statue. It was thick and the cork was in there deep and tight. I seasoned my corks over several months to remove any traces of water before they spent time in a humidor. The last thing I wanted was some of the crazy concoction spilling while I’m was a thousand feet in the air.

Frogs were making an unholy racket somewhere to the south. I thought there might be a small pond in that direction. This time of year, it, and the area around the water, were probably a swamp.

The demon grunted and stared straight at me. I froze in place, reasoning that if I’d already stood here for close to an hour, I had time to blend in, become one with the shadows.

Another note to self, “I’m no damn ninja.”

“Oh crap,” I muttered and worked at the cork with my fingernails.

It came up on hind legs that were severely disjointed. One knee pointed toward me, the other knobbed and jointed in the opposite direction. Bumps dotted its limbs like giant pockmarks. I thought the beast was small, but it had been keeping its form in a tight ball. Its body expanded, tripling in size as if filled with air, or something it was tapping into on the other side of the cusp.

Two arms stretched and moved up and down, as if trying to sense me. The little cuss had a third limb that was folded close to its chest. This one opened up like a praying mantis preparing to strike. It was long, serrated along its forepaw, and ended in a massive hook that looked deadly even in the poor light. I had to assume it was welded in place because I’d never heard of a demon born with knives. Claws the size of goats, sure. Actual metal hooks? That was a first.

The rain let up just as I took a step back and got my foot stuck in yet another puddle. Water and gunk rushed to suck my foot into the ground.

It moved faster than quicksilver. The main problem with demons was their inability to focus on anything else once they had a target. I’d made the mistake of assuming it was hunting something else. That it’s presence here was purely coincidental. Last note of the night to myself, “You are an idiot.”

“Bad demon. You’re off my Christmas list.” I panted and did the smart thing.

I ran for my life.

**

I swear I am going to get in shape.

How many times have you said that and actually done something about it? There was no way you’d find me at the gym, because no one wanted to see a pasty white warlock on a treadmill. Oprah? Yeah. Me? Not so much.

I huffed and puffed as I took off at my idea of a sprint. That was, legs pistoning as fast as they could. While my arms worked like a broken windmill that was already two sheets to the wind.

I had to be realistic. My fork was too far for me to make it before the demon caught up. I didn’t have a chance in the hells of going toe to toe. To make matters worse, the vial wasn’t cooperating. My guess was that initial panic had caused me to jam the cork all the way inside the tube.

If I had known I was going into a fight tonight, I would have brought a different set of potions and maybe a giant crossbow or three, with a small army to carry it. I should have asked my changer friend Frank Two-Feathers to watch my back, but I thought he was watching the back of a cute little falcon out in Edgewood.

I should have been armed with Draco Dracaena and Ash Laurel. The latter for psychic protection, the first for physical. Instead I had a few doses of frankincense and periwinkle. This helped me focus and see through the fog that separates us from the cusp. I knew a warlock that used to smoke pot to get the same effect. He crashed his fork while staring at the moon and, if the story was true, howling a Peter, Paul, and Mary song at the top of his lungs.

I cut to the right and sacrificed a breath to get my teeth around the cork and was rewarded with it sliding halfway out.

Feet thumped behind me. I risked a glance over my shoulder to confirm what my sense of self-preservation was already telling me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I swear I felt the demon’s breath playing across them.

I nearly stumbled over a rock, but righted myself and pounded over the grassy ground, hoping to avoid any leftover dog shit. It would be just my luck to hit a pile of St. Bernard crap and go flying. Then it would be just me and the demon, mano a demon-o a manure-o.

I got my other hand around a wax paper pouch with a small mark burned into it. I was trusting to my system because there wasn’t enough light to see, and even if I relied on my warlock sight there was no way to steady the pouch as I ran.

So I sniffed it and would have smiled except my lungs hurt too much.

The glass vial in one hand, packet in the other, I dumped the two into one palm, clapped my hands, and then tossed the mess into the air with a quick flurry of words. That should confuse the demon, make him want to stop and talk to himself for a few hours before the confusion wore off.

The spell helped bind the ingredients and also spread the ensuing mess to the wind. The flakes rose in the air, spread out and were immediately doused by rain. The clouds had decided to open up and drench now of all times. Sometimes I think someone up there doesn’t like me, or someone down there, on the other side of the cusp.

I sped over the ground and cursed myself for not coming more prepared with at least my imbued chest piece. It might not stand up to a couple of slugs from an assault rifle, but for a warlock it was as strong as wearing a shield straight out of a science fiction movie. I should surely have a blade with me. Probably a silver dagger with a couple of glyphs, nasty ones, to slice through armor or demon and find a heart, no matter where it lay in the creature’s body. I once fought a demon that looked like a wildebeest. Damn thing ran me down like a toreador without a red cape. My chest piece saved me, and when it came back and leapt toward me, I slid forward on my butt and sliced it from neck to groin.

It took two days to wash the stench off.

I risked another glance over my shoulder, but the bastard hadn’t gotten lost and was still right on my ass. I was at least a quarter mile from my fork and about a quarter second away from being demon chow. As I leapt over a small puddle, I noticed a pentagram etched into the ground. It was surrounded by flower leaves and a healthy sprinkling of blood.

Oh hell, this was no accident. Someone had been up to no good and I’d stumbled into it. It made sense. The place a person died (the more violent the better) was the perfect location to call up one of the little guys from the first or second ward. But conjure a big one and you are just as likely to be on the receiving end of whatever you had planned for your victim. The police wouldn’t know how to read the scene. They didn’t have a book on the occult. Maybe the old man had stumbled on a ritual and had been killed by the demon that was currently chasing me.

I looked back and gave a little scream of horror as the beast reached out with that hooked middle arm and caught me across the back. His blade sank into my robe and touched my skin, but I stumbled forward and avoided being skewered.

I pounded to a halt and spun to the side. The demon flew by and I reached out with one arm as it passed to slap its bald little head in a childish gesture. Its ears were tiny and only one had a lobe, but it was upside down. I yanked my hand back and found it covered with demon slime. Gross.

The practical side of me advised rubbing some of it into the vial I'd just emptied into my hand. The other side wanted me to put my hand in boiling water then a nice cold bath of isopropyl alcohol. We warlocks have come up with some dandy potions over the centuries, but nothing cleaned demon phlegm quite like the classics.

The little Danny De Vito looking monster spun on its ridiculous back jointed leg and came at me fresh and full of vigor. I could have tried a kick to its chest. Maybe caught the arm and hooked it over to impale it in the thing’s chest. I might have had a chance at a throat strike that would slow it down.

There was actually a better chance of an errant asteroid surviving entry to earth’s atmosphere and crushing the little demon.

Every damn potion I had was useful for tracking. I even had one set aside that would help make a water and wind proof cover from my robe if I was stuck in a tornado – or a good old fashioned Seattle rainstorm.

That was it!

I ran toward the river as the demon came back in pursuit.

The vial came loose and this time I cupped it in my hands to keep it from being washed away. Then it was a simple matter of coating my hands while whispering the words. I whipped my non-dominant left hand downward across the black fabric. Then my right hand upward and across my breast.

My back burned from the demon’s blade and I got the distinct impression blood was leaking into the fabric. I hoped so. Few things solidified a spell like fresh plasma.

I knew from the whistling sound that it was coming, and I ducked. The blade passed over my head and brushed my hair. One more of those and I was going to be a headless runner for all of two seconds. I spotted the river and uttered the last word of the spell. Throwing my hands in the air helped complete the transition.

My robe billowed and formed a sphere. I curled my body as I leapt off a rock and into the ice cold water of the rushing outlet known as White River. The protective ball was a stroke of genius and it saved my ass. The robe had nothing imbued to make it less porous. The water, though slow, seeped in and took me right to the bottom.

At least it kept its shape.

I staggered out of the water and pulled my soaking robe over my head and dropped it for later retrieval. I ran my fingers through my long black hair and yanked out more than a few branches. Reaching into an inner pocket, I took out a few packets, hoping they weren’t soaked through.

My wish did not come true.

At least the vials were in good shape. I inspected a few in the poor light. I wasn’t sure about the contents of several of them, so had to go by basic shape for familiarity. If I was wrong, the demon might find true love or run around with an uncontrollable erection for a few days.

I almost wished I had a gun. On second thought, no reason to piss the thing off any more than it already was.

As if I wasn’t already soaked to the bone, the rain had not let up. I cursed. Well, not a curse – curse. More the kind that is supposed to make you feel better. Just like everything else this night, it didn’t work.

I shivered as the chill really settled in. The ground sucked at my feet as I tried to creep across it. Between the suction at my leather boots and my teeth chattering, I must have sounded like a walking water bag trying to juggle dominoes.

I took to the trees and tried to blend in, but my Soundgarden t-shirt, one of the only white tees I actually owned, stood out even in the crappy light. My jeans, mismatched white and blue socks, and lack of a jacket left me feeling exposed, underdressed, and very very cold.

The demon was nowhere to be seen, so I broke into a trot and ran out of breath exactly thirty eight seconds later.

I moved to the east and padded as quietly as I could. Still no demon. Well, maybe it went into the water and forgot how to swim. He’d wake up in the Pacific Ocean and have a hell of a time getting back. By then I would be long gone.

I slid to a tree and perched behind it, hands on my knees and breath puffing in and out. If I made for my fork I would be there in about five minutes. Assuming I was on the right path and could find the landmarks I had committed to memory, the main one being the bathroom.

I moved out again and made for another tree that was partially covered by shrubs. I slid behind them, cast my eyes back and forth, and exited the other side.

There was a smaller tree in my path. I went to duck behind it and almost let out another scream. It was no tree!

The demon spun on me and all eight horrid little eyeballs stared through my skull. I babbled a spell of binding but it smashed through the rite so fast I barely had time to roll out of the way.

I ran for it, hoping against hope I was on the right path.

My shirt sucked at my body so I yanked it off, spun, and flung it at the demon. It probably expected another spell to tear apart, based on the shape of the multiple mouths that seemed to form a smile. It really did look like a psychotic cherry pie.

The shirt smacked into the demon and covered its face. Its third hand rose and hovered in the air before it caught on a low hanging branch. The demon was whipped backwards as all that forward momentum came to a sudden stop. Sadly, its arm didn’t break off.

I flat out ran for it and slipped into the puddle I had been looking for.

I went flying, body skidding across the ground, which left the most annoying case of grass burn I have ever experienced.

But the pentagram was there, just in front of me. I slipped on soaked hands and knees until I fell face first into the shape. My head shot around just as the sky decided to piss on my parade by opening up again and cascading ice cold water on my already freezing body.

I cried words, but my mouth was full of grass and dirt so they came out slurred. Even Mother Earth was not impressed with my efforts tonight.

My left hand struggled behind my back to scoop up a little blood while I spat nature all over the pentagram. It wasn’t even a very good one. The person that drew it must have had a terrible shake because the lines weren’t straight. I was no expert on summoning, but whoever did this had no respect for the art.

The rain let up right over my head. The demon had managed to get the drop on me. Not only that but he made the ugliest damn canopy.

I rolled over as the hook came down again. It struck the earth an inch from the mark and stuck. I ripped my blood-covered fingers down and smashed them into the circle and uttered the words. This time they came out.

So did the mark.

I lifted the pentagram off the ground and held it gently, even though I wanted to jump up and run into tomorrow. The ground smoked where it had been. Flower leafs wilted and then turned to ash. The blood that had started the spell turned black and then went in a puff of smoke that was sucked away by the rain.

“Stop!” I bellowed and the demon did.

When it spoke, the voice made me want to bash my head into the ground.

Have you ever heard someone scream while their mouth was filled with marbles as they simultaneously pulled eight fingernails down a chalkboard? Really? Cause that would be more pleasant than whatever the demon said.

It went to the ground and shuffled around on all threes, once more looking like a giant toad.

The barking came again, and closer this time. I looked around for the source but there was nothing in the immediate vicinity. It had to be after midnight and the evening had been a complete bust. No matter how much I searched the ground, I had been unable to locate the murdered man’s scent. To top it all off, I had a demon in thrall and no idea what to do with it, so I decided to do something extra stupid.

I took one of the larger vials out of my jeans pocket and popped the cork. It smelled like lavender water. Something easy to make that didn’t cost an arm and a salamander leg. Pouring the fluid out was like tossing money on the ground, but it left me with an empty vessel. Next was the delicate art of ushering the pentagram shape, which I did with numb and shaking fingers. It fled into the tiny opening, and when I muttered a binding spell the demon sank into the ground.

The night lit up as a portal winked open, giving me a glimpse of one of the wards. I shook my head because it looked like a giant room layered in obsidian, pock marked with giant puddles of molten lava.

Then something hit me. A blast of warmth suffused my body and I suddenly felt like I could take on a demon. A couple of them. Hell, maybe an army. It was like icy cold electricity had ripped into my core and then exited through my hands and feet, but it left me feeling like a new person. I had the insane urge to start letting spells loose for no other reason than I could. Fire and ice. Stop the stupid rain. I had them all in my grasp. Christ, I was more delirious than I thought possible.

The portal snapped shut, snatching my very brief glimpse into the underworld, but not before I watched a figure dash out of view.

The form had a human shape and it was covered in pure white, which made no sense at all. What self respecting demon dressed like in white? They dove at something scratched into the ground. A pentagram like shape similar to the one I had just stolen. Serves you the right--sending an unsanctioned demon. If I ever got ballsy enough to return to the league I was going to bitch about it. Maybe fill out a complaint. Call my congressman. Send a letter to the president.

Who was I kidding? I just wanted to go back to bed and pretend like this evening never occurred.

The barking grew closer. Now what in the fresh hells was this? I didn’t have anything left, unless I tried to control the demon in the bottle and that was not going to end well for anyone. I had about as much luck winning Powerball.

A shape pushed itself through the mist that now hung over the ground. From the fog came a small black nose, followed by fur. I wished for the hundredth time that I had a weapon.

The dog was brown and its fur was drenched and pressed to its side. It had tiny black eyes that stared back at me with something like hope. It shook and its little tail wagged pathetically.

Tonight wasn’t a complete bust, because I had found one of Mrs. Whitfield’s Pomeranians. I scooped the dog up, rubbing its head and whispering reassuring words. It shied away at first, but before I knew it the mutt was licking my face. The walk back to my fork wasn’t so bad after all.

Check out At the Behest of the Dead on Amazon

About the Author

Timothy W. Long has been writing tales and stories since he could hold a crayon and has also read enough books to choke a landfill. He has a fascination with all things zombies, a predilection for hula-girl dolls, and a deep-seated need to jot words on paper and thrust them at people.

Tim is the author of:

Beyond the Barriers (Permuted Press)

Among the Living (Permuted Press)

Among the Dead (Permuted Press)

At the Behest of the Dead

The Zombie Wilson Diaries

The Apocalypse and Satan’s Glory Hole

Z-Risen: Outbreak

Tim swears that if he is ever stuck on a deserted island with a zombie, no matter how attractive, he will bash in her brains.

Really!

http://timothywlong.com
http://www.facebook.com/TimothyWLong
@TimWLong

Table of Contents

- Also by Timothy W. Long
- Entry #10 – Go Time
- Entry #11 – Game Face
- Entry #12 – Do Over
- Entry #13 - Clusterfuck
- Entry #14 - Overdrive
- Entry #15 - Seclusion
- Entry #16 – New Attitude
- Entry #17 - Rotted Flesh
- Entry #18 - Land of the Free
- Entry #19 – Home of the Brave
- Entry #20 – The Road Ahead
- Why I wrote the Z-Risen series

- Read the Permuted Press novel that inspired the Z-Risen series.

- Excerpts