Read Decay (Book 2): Humanity Online

Authors: Linus Locke

Tags: #Zombie Apocalypse

Decay (Book 2): Humanity (9 page)

BOOK: Decay (Book 2): Humanity
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Chapter 14

 

“You shaved!” Mark stated more than asked.

“Of course, I’m heading home to see my wife. I can’t go looking like a bum now can I?” Deacon replied as he walked out onto the deck by the pool. He had also lost some weight; both men had, as Deacon only brought enough supplies for one person and a little extra for emergencies.

“I feel like we have been on this damn boat for a year,” exclaimed Mark.

“Hey now! This is a good yacht, and I told you it’s like a ten day boat ride between Hawaii and California. We are almost there though. Besides, you were the one who wanted to tag along. You see that?” Deacon pointed to a small bump of land in the water. “There are a couple small islands about twenty-five to thirty miles off the coast of California. That’s them. Three hours longer or so.”

“Is anyone alive on the islands?” Mark cupped his hands over his eyes for a better view before Deacon handed him a pair of binoculars.

“I doubt it. When I first came out I drifted close to Avalon on Santa Catalina. Looked like everyone there was dead. Probably had too many people seek shelter there. It seems like a safe place to go with so much of the island being uninhabited. I once met a couple that survived, amazingly I might add, on Alcatraz. They said it was horrible. So many people rushed the ferry looking for safety, and only a few made it off alive.”

Mark decided to change the subject by asking, “Where is our stop?”

“We will anchor down a few miles off the coast of Clay Hills. Then take the boat to shore. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around Sophia and the twins. I didn’t think I’d care much for the twins; I’ve never cared much to have children. I especially never thought I’d take in a couple of orphans, you know? I’ve only known them a short time but I feel like they’re my own.”

“It must be nice to have a family,” Mark said as he thought back on his own parents.  He wouldn’t have known, but his parents were on the other side of the country wandering the streets near Myrtle Beach. His mother carried a child’s liver in her right hand; it had been there so long it had dried in place. His father dragged his legless corpse through the sandy beach.

Deacon found Mark’s comment to be slightly disheartening, so he thought it best to not respond. He walked back to the top of the yacht and looked out through the windows. He looked at the gauges and compasses, dials and knobs. There weren’t many of them, and he didn’t know what half of them were for, but he enjoyed looking at them. He went back to watching for a good place to drop the anchor and leave the yacht. Hopefully it would be too far out for anyone to come after.

 

“Well. This is it. Clay Hills.” Deacon looked pleased to be back to California, and so close to home.

“So why does an Australian move to California anyway?” Mark asked.

“God bless America?” This was more of a humorous question then an answer. “I told you, mate. I came here to be a firefighter.”

“Bullshit,” Mark retorted. “You told me your firefighter story twice in the past ten days. You also told me the story of your aunt and uncle . . . three times. It isn’t a coincidence that your firefighter pals have the same names as your family.”

“How about you don’t freaking worry about it,” Deacon demanded. “If you want to come with me you need to shut your damn mouth. Right here–the green Tundra.”

“Nice truck!” Mark said excitedly as he followed Deacon across the beach and up into the parking lot. “This thing is a beast. How far from here?”

“You ask more questions than a little kid. Just relax. We’ll get there when we get there.” The Australian man was growing impatient, but he did like having the company.

“I bet this town was nice before this all happened,” Mark commented as they drove through the business district of the city. So tell me, did you actually get to see this place, or did you arrive after the outbreak?”

“Just between you, me, and the truck . . . I came here after,” Deacon answered.

“So you were never a firefighter?”

“I
was
a firefighter in Australia. After the attacks, I was sent here on a mission. I lost track of that mission for a while when I met Sophia. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted to be with her and keep her safe. I figured the best way to do that is to complete my mission, so I’m back on track now.”

“What’s your mission?”

“I think you can guess what it is,” Deacon said.

With that, neither of them spoke for the next five minutes. Mark looked out the window as they drove by some buildings that he could only imagine looked very nice at one time. Thin patches of grass grew haphazardly in yards and were surrounded by bare spots from the lack of water during yet another one of California’s droughts. Apparently the undead didn’t care to water their lawns.

Deacon kept his window down as he drove, pulling up close to any wandering undead and driving the spike of his fire axe through their skulls. Mark would have usually left them alone if they wouldn’t be a bother to him, but he could understand how Deacon would want to clear them from his hometown or stop them from following him home.

Deacon’s heart raced as he pulled onto the street where the house that was once Jonathan’s sat. He was so close he could smell Sophia’s shampoo. Then his heart skipped a beat, maybe two, before taking off at a sprint again. The gate in the front was smashed in; chunks of the wall lay in heaps around the twisted steel bars. Deacon jammed the transmission into park before he even came to a stop and jumped out of the truck.

Mark climbed out and ran after him, stepping over the rubble that once protected Jonathan before being left to protect Sophia. Deacon ran much faster than Mark had expected he could, but he assumed it was adrenaline. He felt the fear that Deacon had felt as the two men ran through the busted garage door and into the kitchen.

Deacon looked around, his heart pounding in his ears, and released a primal roar that would have rivaled that of the strongest of beasts. Blood was splattered along the walls and pooled on the floors. Deacon felt his vision blur and tint red, then tears ran down his face. Running room-to-room, he searched hastily for any signs of Sophia or the twins. Un-holstering his pistol, Deacon subconsciously searched for
any
signs of them.

Mark took note of this and took a firm grip on his rifle. “Is this the place?” Mark asked.

“It was.” Deacon continued to search the main floor before running down into the basement. “This wasn’t fiends.”

“What do you mean?”

“There used to be a greenhouse and plenty of food down here. I mean, sure we had gone through a huge bit of what was stored, but there was still plenty. Someone took it all, including the greenhouse.”

“Who all knew about this place?” Mark continued to search the rooms in the basement.

“I don’t think anyone did. The only people who knew left it behind willingly,” explained Deacon.

“In here! Is this one of them?” Mark had found a dead woman in the back of the basement. She reached out to grab him, but he stepped out of the way and led her back toward Deacon.

“Oh god, please don’t let it be,” Deacon said as he walked back to meet them. He let out a relieved sigh and shot the dead woman through the eye, spraying her brains out of the back of her head. The shot was much louder than Deacon had anticipated. It took several minutes before the ringing in his ears stopped.

Mark followed as Deacon ran back upstairs and out into the back yard. The sun was bright now, as his eyes had adjusted to the dark basement. “They even took the propane and the generator,” Deacon said in hopeless frustration.

“Of course they did,” Mark agreed. He wasn’t sure exactly what Deacon was talking about, but he knew it wasn’t good.

“SOPHIA!” Deacon screamed. “SOPHIA!” He ran to the front yard, “ANDY–AMIE!”

Mark felt like this wasn’t going to bring them back, and that screaming was a bad idea. He saw the mess inside, and he had little doubt that they hadn’t made it out alive, but he gave Deacon his space and the time he felt he needed. Mark took this time to walk down the driveway and bring the Tundra up into the driveway.

“I’m so sorry, Deacon,” Mark said awkwardly as Deacon joined him on the down tailgate of the Tundra. “I have peas or corn.” He held up two open cans of vegetables.

Deacon took the peas and tipped the can into his mouth. “Thanks,” he said with a mouthful. He looked down the street and watched as the fiends approached. “You can leave now if you want.”

“No, I came with you, Deacon. I’ll stay by your side,” Mark said before tipping the corn into his mouth.

“There is a ladder in the garage that leads to the roof. We fall back there if we need to . . . if we live long enough.” Deacon finished off the peas and hopped down from the tailgate. Mark finished his own lunch quickly and followed the man down the driveway toward the oncoming horde. “Kill them all. I don’t want Sophia or the twins walking around like that. I’ll sort them out and bury them if we survive.”

Mark nodded his understanding, but Deacon didn’t see it. He didn’t need to. Mark raised his rifle and started firing off rounds into the dead crowd. They hadn’t reached the wall yet, but they were moving in quickly. Both men could feel their hearts hammering, but neither faltered. They would stand their ground like outlaws in a Wild West shootout.

Deacon grabbed his pistol and aimed carefully before each squeeze of the trigger. Every shot mattered, especially when a sea of rotting flesh flooded down the street. Fiends dropped as every skull shattering slug found its target. Some rounds managed to put down more than one of the rotting fiends. Deacon soon regretted choosing such a small weapon, however, as the fiends had just reached the wall, and he had already reloaded twice.

Mark took a step back, but Deacon stood firm. He reloaded the pistol once more, emptied the magazine, and stepped toward his axe lying on the ground. “You won’t take them all with that, Deacon. You will wear yourself out. You won’t do anyone any good if you get yourself killed,” Mark pleaded as he continued to step back. He focused on the closest fiends as he continued to fire.

Dropping the empty pistol–the barrel smoking–Deacon reached down and picked his axe up off of the grass next to the driveway. He held it in both hands, feeling the weight of it. He had wielded this axe many times; he knew the weight all too well. He brought it with him from Australia. It had saved a number of lives before the attacks, helped stop the spread of many fires, but now it found a new life, laying the dead to rest.

The sharp axe sliced through the air and connected with the head of the first fiend unlucky enough to move too close. The first swing carried so much power that the blade didn’t even cut through the hard skull. Instead, it pulverized the bone and turned the brain into a slush as the force carried a shockwave through Deacon’s muscular arms and down into his abs.

Deacon swung again as the next fiend stepped closer. The skull split, causing the eyes to bulge out. The dead woman dropped to the ground, the axe still embedded in her head. Her arms twitched spastically for a few seconds after she fell. Pulling on the axe handle hard, it swung up, catching a dead man under the chin with the sharp spike. The impact caused some of the flesh on his neck to tear and knocked the glasses off his bloody face.

Some of the fiends dropped as their heads burst before Deacon had the chance to destroy them. This pissed Deacon off as much as it relieved him. He knew as well as Mark did that he couldn’t swing that axe forever. His plan was only to swing it until he couldn’t anymore. Then a slight ping of hope hit him. Sophia and the twins weren’t fiends, they were taken by whoever came in and took their stuff.

Fear washed over him as he looked at the horde pouring in through the downed gate. He now knew he had to survive. He had to find them and kill the ones responsible. “Let’s get to the roof,” he ordered.

Mark loaded his last magazine and said, “I was really hoping you were going to say that soon.”

Deacon ran back toward the garage with Mark close behind. He prepared himself to jump as far up the ladder as he could then realized there was no ladder. “SHIT!” he yelled.

“What?”

“The ladder is gone.”

“They did take everything!” Mark hollered in dumb amazement.

“Through here.” Deacon ran through the garage door leading to the back yard and closed the door behind Mark. The two ran toward the wall and jumped, pulling themselves up to the top and looked out around them. All of the yards were teeming with the undead. The wall was nine feet tall, and only the taller of the fiends could even reach them. “Well, we will be alright until Shaq comes along.”

Mark was terrified at the thought of Shaquille O’Neal walking in to the yard, slam dunking any fiends that stood in his way, and grabbing them both off the wall. He imagined looking into the large man’s decaying face. His teeth could be seen through the rotted flesh of one cheek. Even a year after death, his powerful arms were dominating. “I hope Shaq is still alive.”

“Well. I’m sorry,” Deacon said as he reached out to shake Mark’s hand. “I should have never let you come with me.”

“Hey, it was my call, man.” Mark took Deacon’s hand. “Besides, we’ll get out of this.”

“How the hell do you figure?” Deacon chuckled.

“That.” Mark pointed out to a glimmer in the street. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but the roar of the engine was just hitting his ears.

BOOK: Decay (Book 2): Humanity
7.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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