DEAD (Book 12): End (2 page)
HINDSIGHT, PERSPECTIVE AND OTHER WORDS
Be honest. When you first read about Steve rescuing Thalia from the apartment building in
The Ugly Beginning
, did you ever, in your wildest dreams, imagine the journey you would take with this series? I, personally, was just looking for a good zombie story that stood out from the hundreds of others that I’ve read. I looked at my first review of Book 1, and I don’t think I had a damn clue. Let’s face it:
DEAD
is so much more than a zombie series. If we took out the undead, and left in the human conflict, we’d still have one hell of a gut-wrenching epic. Steve would still be a noble hero, Garrett would still be a despicable bastard, and Kevin would still be the inspirational underdog…so on and so forth, a world complete with good guys and bad guys, but, most often, characters that defy a nice, neat label.
How many times did you catch yourself saying, “I would never have done that” or “I would have handled that differently,” whenever a character made a decision that leads to their own suffering and/or death? Many people in the
DEAD
world were worried they were headed down an unredeemable path, questioning how the apocalypse changed them. Let me ask you this: how has this journey changed
you
? If you’ve made it to the end of this series, you’ve watched the characters grow up, grow old, grow sick and grow beyond their perceived physical and mental limitations. You didn’t read these books, you
experienced
them. Knowing what we know as readers, it’s easy to judge…to rationalize…not so easy to predict, and I think that’s what we all love about the
DEAD
series: there are no guarantees. No one is safe.
I’m not sure if this introduction should be a eulogy or a toast, so, instead, I’m going to dedicate a song to the characters, the fans and – of course – TW Brown:
Take Me Back
By Kongos (Lunatic album)
And once again the question’s asked
I answer "yes" but the moment’s passed
I’m guess I’m always tomorrow-bound
How many more till I’m underground?
Oh, oh, I remember now
Too far below to turn around
Too bright a light to let go now
Take me back my friend
Take me back on home
As always,
Ursula K Raphael,
Author of
The Survivor
October 17, 2015
A few words from super-fan, Melena Duff before you plunge into the
END
.
Welcome to
DEAD: End
. If this is the first book you’ve purchased of the
DEAD
series, my strong suggestion would be for you to set this book (or audible, if you’re listening) aside and run straight away to buy
DEAD: The Ugly Beginning
, which is the first book in this series. Now that that’s out of the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Melena Duff and I’m a huge fan of TW Brown’s
DEAD
series. I’d wager to say the biggest fan. So much so that I’ve had certain scenes from King’s
Misery
floating around in my head at random times while reading this series. (Sorry, Todd, that you’ve had to find out this way. I hope this doesn’t disqualify me from further interaction with you.)
Thank everything, I suppose, that I’ve got a bit more self-control than Annie Wilkes. I think. I mean, I must have, because Mr. Brown has not only (spoiler alert! Be advised if you’ve disregarded my first suggestion and have continued on with this book, while not reading the others) killed my own beloved Misery related character, but a bunch of others that I loved nearly as much. It’s a zombie apocalypse book. I knew that deaths would happen. But trust me when I say that no one is safe, not even the protagonists. I’d like to say that the agony in which I’ve suffered since my first discovering the
DEAD
series is my fault, because I didn’t go into the books expecting a bleak outcome, but that isn’t entirely true. I did expect that end result, which is why it is all Mr. Brown’s fault. He compelled me into forming bonds with his characters, despite my better judgment. He took me on journeys, sometimes twisted and cruel, and others that were funny and remarkable, where I watched the development of these people he gave birth to. I witnessed boys turning into men. I watched women emerge as leaders, and the weak turn into the strong through a series of events that often had me closing the pages and claiming I’d never read another one of his books. Instead, I’ve read each book two or three times, not only because they’re that good, but because I wanted to revisit a time wherein a beloved character of mine existed. It would take me sometimes weeks to finish a book, simply because I was that involved in an individual that he’d just brutally offed.
I hope none of my mentioning of character deaths is making you think that I don’t love this series. Or (again, if you’ve not heeded my warning and you’re still trudging onward, despite not having read the first books of the series) rethink going to the beginning and devouring these books like they’ll possibly be your very last meal. Because that’s as far from the truth as you could ever get. As much as the deaths of so many of my favorite characters have bothered me, it hasn’t kept me from continuing onward or singing the praises of these books. Nor will it keep me from eventually reading this last book of the series. You read correctly. I’ve not even read this book, yet here I am, introducing you to it. I was actually a beta reader for
DEAD: End
, and had to ask Mr. Brown to remove me from the list, because of its contents. I’m not ready for this series to close. I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m sure I’ll read parts of it, then take a break, go back and reread the other novels, then come back to this one. It will be a lengthy process and I intend for it to be so. I’d like to stretch out the end as much as possible, especially when I’m saying goodbye to so many characters I adore, in one fell swoop. Not because they all might die, but because this is the last book in the series, in general.
Although, saying farewell is inevitable when you’re reading a zombie book, I suppose. Or even a series of books, where an end is eventually going to happen, regardless of who dies or doesn’t. It’s hard to let go of something you’ve enjoyed so much. You’re sorry to see it go, even while you’re happy to have gone on this remarkable journey with this or that person, and having gotten to witness their growth, their pain and their happiness. I do hope that
DEAD: End
brings joys, intermingling with the sadness, and I trust that Todd will bring that to the table, when closing up the
DEAD
series. If that’s not the case, will I (or you) leave here wondering what was the point of it all? Possibly so. Possibly not. For myself, I honestly don’t believe so, because ultimately, having your favorite character die shouldn’t affect your overall opinion of the book. I say shouldn’t, because even if that’s the case, sometimes it
will
happen. Nonetheless, we have to remember that what we’re reading is a book where death and violence has become not only the norm, but the expected.
One of the things that sets these books apart, I’ve felt from the beginning, is the realism, zombies aside. It’s not realistic reading any longer if all our favorite characters survive this new, cruel world. It’s not realistic if we don’t have the good, the bad, and the ugly of human nature that Mr. Brown continually touches upon. Yet, that’s the one thing that I didn’t really count on when going into these books. The thing that I didn’t prepare for when I bought the first, thinking I just wanted a zombie book to listen to while I worked. I thought I’d get the blood and gore and zombie action. I thought it’d be a superficial, entertaining read; a quick scratch to an itch I had at the time for this particular genre. I didn’t know I’d get pulled into these characters’ lives, and find myself immersed in the growth or plummet of one’s humanity and bearing. The books were anything but lightweight, and only some of what I expected, as Mr. Brown’s surprising twists became unraveled throughout the pages. When you become that invested in a book or series, it’s inescapable that you won’t want to see the end of it. Even so, here we are. In the end. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that Annie Wilkes might’ve had a really good idea, after all.
Enjoy your book. And don’t tell me how it ends. I’m not ready to know.
To YOU.
The readers who
made my dreams come true
Thank You
1
“I found their trail.” Gerald emerged through the brush, swatting at the cloud of mosquitoes that swirled around his head.
“Their trail?” Juan felt his stomach twist in an even tighter knot.
“They went towards the river.” Gerald flung open the doors to one of his sheds and began rummaging about.
“Towards the river!” Juan exclaimed. “I told them to stay away from the damn river.”
“Yeah…imagine that. Kids doing what they were told not to do,” Gerald hollered over his shoulder as the sounds of gear being tossed around could be heard from inside the shed.
The big man emerged from the dark confines of the sturdy wooden structure with a coil of rope hanging around his neck and a variety of weapons dangling from his belt and vest. Juan saw the wince as the man pulled the door shut behind him.
“You are in no condition to be out stomping around in the woods.”
Juan gestured to the man who was showing the outward and very visible after-effects of just having fought a grizzly bear. He had blood dripping from his beard and one eye looked as if it might be swollen shut before too long.
“As bad off as I might be, you are nowhere near in as good a shape,” Gerald quipped as he gave himself a pat down to ensure he had everything that he might need.
Juan forced himself to his feet. The pain he felt was incredible, but he made himself take one slow and agonizing step after another as he approached Gerald.
“Those are my little girls out there,” Juan managed through clenched teeth.
“And you will not be doing them any favors if you go out and get yourself killed.”
Gerald stepped up to Juan and put a massive hand in the middle of Juan’s chest. He gave the slightest bit of a push. Juan’s arms pin-wheeled as he struggled to keep his footing. Gerald grabbed him by his shirt with the same hand and kept him from falling gracelessly to the ground.
“Like I said…” Gerald left the statement open, but the meaning was clear.
Juan was still standing there in impotent frustration when his crutch was thrust back in his hands. He felt the threat of tears in his eyes and forced them away.
“What you can do is build a massive bonfire here.” Gerald pointed to the clearing in the center of what served as his front yard for all intents and purposes. “I have no idea where they have gone or how far I might have to range to seek them out. And while they have certainly learned a great deal, they are still just little girls. If it gets dark, that may be the very thing that helps lead them home.”
Juan sighed and nodded. He knew that Gerald was right in pointing out the fact that he would be much more of a liability than a help out in the woods. He watched as the man waded out and vanished into the thick growth of the forest.
Forcing away any feelings of self-pity, Juan set about stacking up a pile of wood. He was still toting wood when he heard a low moan. Turning, Juan saw a pair of zombies come stumbling from the trail just to the left of the cabin.
They both looked relatively fresh!
Feeling his anger build to the breaking point, Juan yanked free an axe from where it was kept to split firewood. He considered his crutch and just as quickly dismissed it; the time had come to walk without any help. He thought he remembered something from one of his cousins who had been in a car wreck and been put through physical therapy. She had mentioned something about the doctor insisting she “walk through the pain” or some such nonsense.
Raising his weapon, Juan allowed the closest zombie to approach. This one had been a man. While nowhere near the size of Gerald, he was still fairly hefty. He also had a thick, bushy beard that was now stiff with dark blood. The man’s throat had been ravaged, as had his left leg.
Juan felt almost a bit of relief as he was able to identify the wounds as most likely coming from zombie wolves. He probably would have lost what remained of his will to live if he’d seen the small bite-marks of a child.
He swung down and split the man’s skull, letting go of his weapon and sort of hopping aside as the body crashed to the ground in a heap. It was the next zombie that was a little more difficult to deal with. Juan knew that a deader was a deader, but he still had a rough time with taking down the women or children.
This woman was a tall, skinny sort who looked very much out of place in the rough environment of the Alaskan Wilderness. Most of the women he had encountered were strong, thick, and on the edge of (if not beyond) husky. Being skinny was a detriment in this harsh, cold environment.
The woman had lost an arm in the attack that had taken her life. Like the man, most of her throat was torn out. And then there was the curiousness of her being stark naked.
Perhaps she had been bathing
, Juan thought for the briefest of seconds as he yanked his ax free and awaited the woman’s approach.
He took her down with ease and then hauled her body to where he had been building his bonfire. The two bodies would add a good source of fuel to the fire and reduce the amount of wood needed by a small fraction. These days, waste was simply not something that was afforded. Also, dead bodies left lying about might bring unwanted attention.
Juan glanced over at the lump that was the carcass of the grizzly. He would skin and dress that after his fire was going. Bear was some of his favorite meat.
“Never would have even thought of something like that,” Juan said out loud as he limped over to the canister of oil that Gerald kept on the front porch.
Once he sprinkled some of the precious fluid on the wood, he eased himself down and produced his flint and steel. With a few deft moves, he had the dry curls of kindling lit and eased the small pile into the edge of his awaiting pyre.
He worked his way back up to his feet when he heard the scream. It was one that a person could never forget. He could still recall that first time he’d heard it; the scream of a person being eaten alive…torn apart and feasted upon by the undead.
He did not need to look to know that his arms were pebbled with goose bumps. Even though he could not be totally certain, he forced himself to believe that it was not either of his daughters. But if not them, then who could it be that had just fallen victim?
There was a rustle in the brush and then Denita stumbled through, her sister Della followed. Both looked hot and sweaty, their breathing coming in gasps and pants.
“Papi!” Denita managed. “Hurry inside. Get below before they get here!”
Juan opened his arms to his daughters. They were almost on him when he noticed each was carrying the carcass of an already skinned rabbit. Actually, Denita had three.
“What’s going on?” Juan asked once his daughters reached him.
“Lots of them!” Della gulped. She looked over her shoulder, and in that instant, Juan saw the scared little girl.
Both had put on such a show of bravery. They had seemed fearless to the point of reckless. Now they were visibly terrified.
“Lots of what?” Juan asked.
In answer, a chorus of moans could be heard coming from the woods in the direction that his daughters had just emerged. Then there was another sound—the cacophony of the smaller saplings and undergrowth being snapped.
“Deaders, Papi!” Denita said as she pushed Juan towards the cabin. “More than I ever seen!”
Juan allowed himself to be nudged toward the cabin. He opened the door and entered into the cool darkness; the single lantern seeming almost non-existent in comparison to the bright sunlight he was leaving behind.
“But Gerald,” Juan suddenly remembered. “He is still out there.”
“The Grizzly Man was trying to lead them away,” Della said with a sniff.
“
Was
?” Juan pressed as he shut the door to the cabin and limped to the trapdoor in the corner.
“He got stuck trying to climb some rocks. They pulled him down…” Denita sobbed. Her voice became strangled and she began to cry.
Her sister was in no better condition as each tried unsuccessfully to explain what had befallen the big man. Juan did not need a detailed account; he could figure it out for himself based on their reactions.
Juan helped both girls to start down the ladder built into the wall. Just as Denita, who had gone second, vanished into the pitch black of the makeshift basement, Juan heard the first of the deaders bump into the wall of the cabin.
Seconds later, it was almost like a hellish hail storm as more bodies collided with the exterior. Juan was just down to floor level and pulling the hatch shut when a series of slaps and thumps came at the wooden door. It would not hold long, of that he was certain.
Juan pulled the hatch shut with a solid thud as the sounds of breaking wood could be heard from above. He climbed down until he felt the solid dirt floor under his feet. In the pitch black, he felt around until his hands discovered a wall.
Making his way along it, he angled himself towards the sounds of sniffing and muffled crying. At last, he found the cot where his girls sat huddled together. They both shook and shivered.
Juan pulled them close and held them as the sounds of crashing could be heard from above. Dust drifted down and he could taste it in the back of his throat. His eyelids fluttered involuntarily as the grit found his blind eyes. Closing them, Juan pulled a fur blanket from the cot and slung it up and over their heads.
They sat in the blackness for what seemed like an eternity as the sounds of feet trudging around could be more felt than heard. At some point, there was a tremendous crash and Juan feared that the roof would collapse and seal them in a horrible grave where they would finally draw their last breaths before joining Mackenzie.
He had no idea how long they had been sitting on that cot. At some point, the girls had actually fallen asleep and their soft snores were the only sound.
The only sound! His brain was finally able to get that message to register. Still, Juan sat in the darkness and did not dare move. He might have stayed that way for hours or minutes; he had no way of knowing in the void.
Eventually, he eased the girls from his side and laid them down beside one another on the cot. It took him a while to grope about until he discovered the rungs built into the wall. Climbing slowly, Juan made his way up until he found the handle of the trap door. Turning the knob, he pushed and was given another fright as it did not budge!
He pushed to no avail. After many failed attempts, Juan stopped. He was drenched in sweat and felt dizzy.
Had this become their grave after all?
he wondered.
“No,” Juan growled. “Not like this. Not after everything.”
Taking another step up the ladder, Juan braced his shoulder against the hatch. He pushed, straining to the point where he began to feel the pain in his injured leg. Blocking it out, he renewed his push and felt the slightest give. Calling on everything that remained, Juan pushed up and felt the door give with agonizing slowness.
Then it flung open so abruptly that he had to fight not to fall. The cool air rushed in and the sky above seemed so bright that it hurt his eyes.
***
“My God,” Vix breathed.
She relaxed enough so that her body would slide back down the embankment. She, Paddy, and the others had been on the move since before sunrise. For over two weeks they had done nothing but observe. Dolph and his wanna-be Nazis numbered over a thousand. Yet it was clear that only one person gave orders. It was history repeating itself.
It did not seem possible that one person could be responsible for so much destruction. Yet, down below was a testament. Of course, this man Dolph had found a way to utilize the zombies as his own private army.
He did so by grabbing a few of the undead (over a hundred if what Vix had heard or seen was any indication) and then fitting them with backpack-sized devices that made an incredible racket. From what they could tell, he obviously had quite a few in reserve. If he needed to re-direct the horde, he would simply move to a location and release one. Once he activated the pack, he used prisoners to lure the zombies wherever he wanted them to go.
“Looks like your little island did not fare well,” Paddy whispered.
When Vix had seen for herself that New England had fallen, she went numb. It had simply been a matter of the bodies building up to the point where the fallen made a ramp for those who still moved. The zombies had washed over the walls like a tidal wave of undeath.
Using binoculars, she had scanned for any signs of life and come up empty. She heard Chaaya weeping and glanced over at the woman. Losing her lover had hardly elicited a response; yet, here she was now, crying and near hysterics.
“Shut her up,” Gable hissed.
Seamus moved over next to the woman and his low rumbling whisper came almost like the buzz of a bumblebee. Chaaya’s sobs receded to hiccupping gasps, but at least she had quieted down. Vix looked down the line at the others. She saw the same look on their faces that she felt: defeat.
It had seemed so grand as they all sat around the campfire and tossed out the different ways they would stop this maniac. Yet, every day was more of the same. They would look upon the destruction created by the army as they would happen upon some encampment or another…and do nothing.
