Dead South Rising: Book 1 (33 page)

“Clear,” said Gills, descending the staircase.

Sammy popped his head around the corner of the kitchen, an oatmeal bar of some sort protruding from the man’s mouth. “All clear,” he mumbled through the grub.

“Good.” Tom motioned to the woman. “Let’s restrain Mrs. Morris.”

“One step ahead of ya,” Sammy said, ripping off a piece of gray duct tape.
 

David waited in the warehouse portion of the dock. He wondered what the old man had in store. A suit of armor? Football pads? Chainmail?

He figured he’d be relatively safe atop the machine. A couple of steel bars surrounded the driver’s seat, and the cockpit was about five or six feet off the ground. The shufflers could grab at him all they wanted, but he doubted they’d be able to take a chunk out of him on his one-man cavalcade. Plus, he’d be too busy making flatbread out of them to get munched on.

Still, he remembered how close he’d come at Mitch’s, getting bit in the leg, his luck riding high that night. Could have all been over in an instant. The dead were easy to underestimate. And he had done just that.

He hoped his idea would work. And that it would work quickly. He had an agenda today, a chapter to close in his life. And he was eager to get to it.

One of the double doors leading into the warehouse from the hall clanked with a robust slam. Footsteps. David started toward them, expecting the Janitor and his surprise.

David said, “So what have you got for—?”

“Hey.”

“Jessica? Um, hey. What are you doing back here?”

“I passed the Janitor in the hall, and he told me you were here.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, quashing his guilt like a cigarette.

She strode up to him, hugged him. “A million times better. Rest and medicine did wonders. Feeling like me again. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for putting your life on the line for me like that.”

He returned her embrace, feeling like the unpopular boy in school who had suddenly attracted the attention of the most popular girl. “Randy’s the one who—”

“I know, I know. You’ve told me before. He’s the one who prepared it and got the IV going … I get it. But he couldn’t have done it without the drugs that
you
brought back.”

He hugged her tighter, despite the residual ache in his core. “Fine. You’re welcome.”

She pulled back and looked around, the curious neighbor kid checking out what was going on next door. “So what are you doing back here?”

He didn’t want to worry her, so he kept the details sketchy and nonspecific. “Helping with some shufflers. Seems there are a few more than normal.”

She thought for a moment, concern touching her eyes, then said, “So what’s the plan?”

He chose his words carefully, as not to alarm her. “We have an idea. Very safe. Gabe’s gone to get some extra protection. Should be a quick and easy extermination.”

“Gabe?”

“Gabriel. Sorry. The Janitor.”

“Oh.”

They stood there for a moment. He considered telling her about Mitch, then quickly aborted. The timing, the place—all wrong. He wasn’t sure how much time he would have, and he didn’t know how she’d react. Plus, he’d rather tell her somewhere they could be alone, away from any interruption, and where she could turn the tears loose.
 

Jessica broke the awkward silence. “So the plan is …?”

He’d hoped she wouldn’t inquire about the particulars. “It’s safe.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

He smiled, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Jessica was insightful, intuitive. Straight forward.
A straight shooter.
Probably a better leader than David, truth be told. And she could most likely sense he was holding something back from her.
 

Again, the double doors smacked with a resounding
bang
, and this time the Janitor appeared from behind a stack of boxes.

His lips turned up, a squinty eye on Jessica. “I see you found him.”

She nodded. “Yes, thanks. Good directions.”

David said, “What do you have there?”

The Janitor held up a jumpsuit much like his own. He also raised a thick roll of duct tape. “These don’t come in leather, unfortunately, but we’ve tried this before with good results.”

David immediately put the pieces together. “Ah, good idea.”

The Janitor continued, “A human’s jaws weren’t made for catching game, say like a crocodile’s or even a coyote’s. They got to catch you with their hands, or trip you up. Even then, they’ve got to pick a spot on you they can sink their teeth into. Arm, wrist,” He pointed near the ground, “ankles … calves. You don’t see many of ‘em taking chunks out of your torso. Not until you’ve been rendered immobile.”

David said, “So since my ankles and calves will be the most exposed parts—”

“We’ll wrap them up with duct tape. Layer up a bit. Socks, jeans, jumpsuit, tape, boots. You won’t have anything to worry about. Even if they do chomp down, their bite won’t break skin. Bruise at most, maybe, but that’s it. With as much layering as you’ll have, I even doubt that. We’ll go ahead and wrap your arms and wrists, too. Just to be safe.”

Nodding, David thought back to the pond, to the biting cadaver that had latched onto his leg. A small shiver rippled through him. But for Jessica, he wanted to be strong. “Great.”

Jessica interrupted before the men could get started. “Are you sure this is really necessary? To go out there?”

“I’ll be fine, Jess. Really.” He unbuckled his gun belt, handed it off to her.

Reluctantly, she took it.

“He will,” The Janitor said, then to David, “It’s a good thing we’re knocking this out before the heat of the day. Duct tape don’t breathe well, and you may be a little warm. But better burning up than the alternative.”

“Right,” David said, pulling on the jumpsuit. He zipped it up, and the Janitor began wrapping his legs, the sound of ripping duct tape echoing through the high-ceilinged warehouse
.

Rrrriiiip.

Jessica watched, apprehension carving her face. But she said nothing more, seemingly understanding that if it wasn’t necessary, they wouldn’t be doing it. This wasn’t Mitch, after all. They weren’t doing this for fun. For sport. For kicks.

When they’d finished, David resembled part tin man, part mechanic.

“What do ya think?” the Janitor asked Jessica.

She chewed at a fingernail, looking David up and down. She simply nodded a barely noticeable nod.

David said, “Works for me.” He felt a little silly, but he did admit to feeling safer.

“Alright, then,” said the Janitor. “Let’s mow the lawn.”

* * *

David Morris and Gabriel Jones stood on the back dock like two captains on a ship’s deck, gazing out over a rough sea, hungry for a glimpse of the kraken. Neither man spoke, instead considering for a few moments what they were about to do.

The throng of shufflers had grown, possibly drawn by the others. Many of them lifted their noses in the air, as if they could smell the two men, licking their dried and decaying chops with their equally dried and decaying tongues, hoping for a hearty breakfast.

David felt queasy, his mind already racing ahead in anticipation. He began to wonder if he could go through with it, this bug-squashing mission. The thought of that huge and heavy knobbed drum that resembled some gigantic weaponized waffle iron rolling over flesh and bone sickened him. He tried licking his own dry lips, but his mouth was just as parched, and it did nothing. David hadn’t noticed the Janitor looking him over.

“Little green around the gills?”

“I’m sorry?”

With narrowed eyes, Gabriel gazed at him, his mustache twitching. “Look like you’re about to spew grits. You sure you’re up for this?”

Bunching his lips, David pulled in a deep breath through his nose, then was immediately rueful. The pungent air betrayed him, snaking into his throat and tickling his gag reflex rather than refreshing his lungs. David nodded, stifling the surge of sick rocketing up and up and up.

But David was a liar. He wasn’t ready for this. Was not excited about this. Regretted suggesting this. He simply did not want to do this. This was not natural, not right.

Do the right thing.

Visions of Old Man Bartlett flashed, and David relived how he’d felt after plunging his knife into the elderly man’s skull. The paradoxical elation he had experienced. The rush. Like he’d stepped into his new, invincible self. But he’d lied to himself, because that’s what liars do. A relayer of non-truths. Fact modifier. Fabricator of falsities. Teller of tales. A stretcher of truths. Bearer of false witness. Deceiver.

A no good, goddamned LIAR.

Sure, he planned on telling Jessica and Randy the truth about his ‘searches’ for his wife. Tell them what he’d really been up to. When appropriate, of course. It just hadn’t been convenient. Suitable times proved elusive.

Another lie
.

Later. Always later.

I’ll tell them. I promise I will. And I’ll tell the truth.

When? When would he tell them?

Today. I’ll tell them today.

When today?

After I set things right. After I fix the truth.

May be too late by then. Besides, the truth is what the truth is. There is no ‘fixing’ it. The truth doesn’t break.

I have to set things right first. I have to.

He could set things right by setting down Jessica and Randy and telling them first.

Can’t do that. Not an option.

And why not? Who knows, maybe they could actually help set things right.

No.

Yes.

Help
not
wanted.

Oh, but no one can endure such a burden on their own. Makes a sane man
insane.

Shit.

“So what do you think?” the Janitor asked.

David just stood there. He hadn’t heard a single word.

Don’t lose your fucking mind. Not yet.

Gabriel said, “Maybe we should get someone else. Or call this off. Try something else.”

David brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed. “No … no, it’s okay. Just needed a second to mentally prepare.”

Well done. Another lie. One more for the overflowing collection.

“No,” the Janitor said, “let’s reconsider. If we hole up for a day or two, they may move on. Us standing around like an all-you-can-eat buffet ain’t helping matters.” He scratched his leathery chin and shifted on lanky legs. “Naw, let’s think about this some more.”

Someone yelled from around the corner. “Hold up! Hold up!”

It was Leonard, his voice booming. When he finally came into view, he said, “Hold up, fellas,” then climbed the steps to the dock.

“What’s the trouble, Lenny?” the Janitor asked.

Leonard cocked his thumb back toward the front of the building. “It’s Roy. We can’t go running over them rattlers just yet.” He planted his hands on his hips like he’d been running a cross-country marathon. “His boy’s out front.”

The Janitor’s brow furrowed. “Scotty?”

Lenny nodded.

“But Scotty …”

Lenny raised a knowing brow and dipped his chin.

“Jesus.”

David broke into the conversation. “Roy’s boy is a …?”

The Janitor’s lips tightened. “His boy went missing when it all started. Worked at the lumber yard just south of Leeson. Everyone thought he’d died. Well, thought he’d died the true death.” Shook his head. “Jesus,” he said again.

“We can’t go plowing ‘em down, not with Scott out there,” said Leonard. “Plus, a few of the Infirm folks is arguing against the plan.”

After a heavy sigh, Gabriel said, “I know you’re disappointed, Dave. But this little mowing adventure’s gonna have to wait a spell.”

Relief cascaded through David. He was glad for the jumpsuit and duct tape holding him together because he believed he would have simply melted into a quivering pool of goo right there on the dock. He wanted to be tough for the group, do his part, but this was biting off more than he could ever hope to chew. He’d choke on it, gag on it. Asphyxiate on it.

But he appreciated the Janitor’s phrasing. At least helped him save face in front of Lenny.

Gabriel patted Leonard on his huge arm. “Time for damage control.”

“You gots it, boss.”

“Dave, Roy’s the most delicate of the bunch. Good man. Damn good man. But this last month’s been hard on him. Lost his entire family to this plague. Even his dog of sixteen years. Ain’t trying to belittle what you or me or anyone else has been through, but he needs some special attention.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

The Janitor and the Lumberjack started toward the steps. Gabriel turned and said, “We’ll give her a go later. We’re good on supplies for now, so it ain’t crucial today, this plan. Anyway, I need to talk some sense into the Infirmaries.” Then he smiled. “Still a good idea, Dave. We’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks.” David hoped they
wouldn’t
‘give her a go’ later.

With that, the two men left David alone on the dock.

His bones shivered relief, and the surging lava flow rising in his throat began draining back into his buckled stomach. The Tylenol was wearing off, and his body was letting him know about it.

It’s a sign.

David exhaled a shuddering breath. He needed to tell Jessica about Mitch. And he needed to tell her about other things. Secret things. Things he’d rather never talk about. Things he’d lied about.

It can wait.

But the window had just opened. His opportunity to come clean had arrived. Things were different here. The very few folks he’d interacted with were good people. People on the up-and-up. The Janitor was right. David sensed the camaraderie, the chemistry. The old man could have just as easily patched them up and sent them on their way. No obligation to take them in, to let them stay.

If David was going to live with others—and himself—he needed to set things right.

And with that, he pulled open the back dock door, and set off to find Jessica.

* * *

David strode down the main hall, a slight limp in his step. He badly craved a drink, scotch preferably, though anything alcoholic would do. His inhibitions overflowed—unlike the alcohol he
didn’t
have—and he considered skipping this part altogether. But step number one was important. Crucial, even. Without a step number one, there could be no step number two.