The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead (26 page)

“Please,” Quigs said.

“Okay, but I want you all out of here. Someone give me the keys. I’ll finish up in here and lock the door.”

During his shift Quigs kept his eyes on the monitor showing his friend. Some of us went down to the basement to have a look. Others watched from the monitors in the kitchen.

Yang looked stable, and I thought he might pull through as Warnick had described. We agreed to convene in the morning and decide what to do next.

That night towards the end of my shift, I noticed that the drip stand lay on the ground. I wished there were a microphone so I could hear what was going on in the generator building.

I called my backup, Warnick. Chavez came with him, and the three of us watched for a time as Yang staggered back and forth in an odd way that we all recognized.

“Shit,” Warnick said, kicking a chair and pulling at his hair.

Yang stopped in front of one of the cameras and stared into it. We saw the unmistakable dead eyes and knew that this wasn’t Yang anymore.

“Should I get Quigs?” I said.

“No, let him sleep,” Chavez said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“At least you tried,” I said to Warnick, patting his shoulder.

“Just so you know,” Warnick said, “I’d give you the same chance.”

We watched as Chavez pulled out his handgun and made sure the clip was full. Then he left to put Yang down.

“Make sure you take one of the dogs with you,” I said. He glared at me. “You know, in case.”

As we focused on one monitor, Chavez and a German shepherd entered the room with Yang. Only a moment ago Yang had been swaying rhythmically in front of the camera. Now he was alert and became very interested in getting close to a warm human being. But he never got the chance.

Chavez fired three times at Yang’s face, tearing off his nose, then the top of his head. Yang fell onto his back, and the dog trotted forward to sniff the body while Chavez said something. A prayer? Then Chavez dragged the body out of view. We didn’t see him for another half hour. Warnick waited with me near the monitors.

“I’m going to see what’s happening,” Warnick said.

Ben came down to start his shift. “What’s going on?”

I said, “Yang turned.” Then to Warnick, “Wait, I’m coming with you.” We both hurried up the stairs. “Ben, keep an eye on that generator building.”

When we got outside, we found Chavez placing a black nylon bag into the back of the Humvee and closing the door.

“Everything okay?” Warnick said.

“Yeah, why?”

“Is Yang’s body still in there?” I said.

Chavez pointed to the fire pit outside the fence. There was a blaze going. “Let’s get inside.”

As we went in, I glanced back at the Humvee. I thought Chavez was acting strangely, but I dismissed the feeling. What did I expect? He’d killed one of his own men. Warnick had told me that Chavez served in Afghanistan and had gotten shot up pretty bad. How could harrowing experiences like those not affect a person?

“Ruined my uniform,” he said to no one. “You can’t get the blood out.”

All the next day Quigs was sullen and refused to eat, so Chavez relieved him of duty. Holly tried comforting him, but all he wanted was to sit around playing
Call of Duty
. If Yang’s death affected Warnick, he didn’t show it. No one spoke of it again.

The next day we heard a disturbance outside. Aaron was on duty in the basement and sounded the alarm. Upstairs, we heard the dogs barking.

From the kitchen monitors, I saw a teenage girl and boy running towards our fence. They tried climbing it but were electrocuted and thrown back. As we ran out the front door with our weapons, we saw the girl and boy begging to be let in. Behind them was an angry group of armed men. One of them—the largest of the group—fired at the teenagers but missed. We didn’t return the fire for fear of hitting the kids.

I saw that the boy was injured. His left ear was bleeding, and it looked like he might’ve been attacked by a dragger. The girl was tall, and wearing a lot of eyeliner. Her fingernails were painted black and reminded me of the undead.

“Open the gate!” Holly said.

“Aaron can’t hear you,” I said. She gave me a look, then signaled into a video camera.

The gate opened long enough to let the girl and boy inside. As it closed, we fired warning shots to keep the men from getting in. The girl and boy hid behind us as the men fell back.

Chavez had already left for the day. The rest of us trained our weapons on those bozos.

“Yer makin’ a mistake with that kid,” the leader said. “He’s infected.”

I recognized his voice and realized it was Travis Golightly, the racist owner of the Beehive and first lieutenant to Ormand Ferry. These guys were Red Militia.

“Is that why you’re trying to shoot them?” Holly said.

“They’re brother and sister. Most likely both infected,” he said.

“You should leave,” Holly said. She looked at Warnick and Quigs, who seemed to agree.

“You know what?” Travis said. For some reason he thought better of it. Then he muttered something to the others, and they lowered their weapons. “Your funeral,” he said, and they walked off down the driveway.

We watched them go, then took the girl and boy into the house. Other than the bloody ear, the boy didn’t appear to be suffering in any way. In fact, he acted normal. We took them into the kitchen. Holly cleaned and bandaged the boy’s ear while the girl watched intently. They did, in fact, resemble each other.

“The cut’s pretty clean,” Holly said to the boy. “Please tell me a dragger didn’t do this.”

“I got into a fight is all.”

“It’s why we ran away,” the girl said.

“We can’t take any chances,” Landry said. “The boy can’t stay in the house.”

“Hang on,” Holly said, and got them a couple of sodas from the refrigerator. “What are your names?”

“I’m Griffin Sparrow,” the girl said. “This is my brother Kyle.”

“Nice to meet you,” Holly said, and introduced the rest of us. “How old are you, Kyle?”

“Thirteen.”

“Why did you run away?” Landry said.

“That guy you talked to outside?” Griffin said. “He’s our stepdad.”

“Travis Golightly is your stepfather?” I said.

“So you were running away from him?” Holly said.

“Wait a second,” Ben said. “How did you get all the way out here?”

“We were riding with those men,” Griffin said. “Kyle and I said we had to pee. When we got out, we ran into the forest. We didn’t know there was a house up here.”

“And they chased you?” Landry said.

“It’s lucky the draggers didn’t get you,” Holly said.

“All that talk about being infected,” Griffin said. “He cut Kyle’s ear with a razor to give himself an excuse.”

“An excuse?” I said.

“To kill us,” she said without emotion.

“Dear God,” Ben said.

“He hates us,” Kyle said. “Always has.”

“Where’s your mom?” Holly said.

“Dead,” Griffin said, not looking at anyone. “One of the dead people got her. After she died, I guess Travis thought he could do whatever he wanted.”

“I see,” Holly said. Then to Griffin, “Listen, I want to check you to make sure you’re okay. Come on, there’s a bathroom around the corner.”

They left for a few minutes. When they returned, Holly looked concerned.

“Well?” I said.

“She’s fine. No bites.” Then to the kids, “We need to give you both tetanus shots just in case. Okay?”

Griffin looked at her brother. “Sure, I guess.”

“Can you get the medical kit?” Holly said to Warnick.

Warnick injected them both. Then Holly turned to Kyle, who was watching her look after his sister. “I’m sorry, Kyle, but Irwin is right. You’re prob’ly telling the truth, but we have to be sure.” She turned to me and said, “Let’s take him out to the generator building.”

We decided to let Griffin stay with us in the house. Looking into their eyes, I wanted to believe their story, crazy as it was. But with Kyle we couldn’t take any chances.

We walked Kyle over the generator building and left him inside with food, water and a sleeping bag.

“There are cameras in here so we can see you,” Holly said, sounding maternal. “You don’t need to worry about the draggers or anyone else. This building is secure.”

“How long do I have to stay here?”

She looked at me, then at Kyle. “We’re not sure. But it shouldn’t be more than a day or so.”

“I don’t want to be in here by myself,” Kyle said.

I could tell the kid was scared. “I’m sorry, Kyle. We have to be sure.”

“Whatever.”

We closed and locked the door without looking back.

When I came into our room, Holly was sitting on the bed a million miles away. I put a hand on her shoulder, and for the first time in days, she touched me.

“There’s something those kids aren’t telling us,” she said.

“I have the same feeling. Why would a man try to murder his own stepkids?”

“I found bruises on Griffin when I examined her,” Holly said. “I don’t think she got those recently either.”

“What about the boy?”

“Nothing.”

“You think Travis beats her?”

“I think it’s worse. Those bruises weren’t just on her arms and legs. They were on her inner thighs.”

“You mean that big guy on top of …” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. “That ripe, sick bastard.”

“I’m almost sure of it,” she said. “I think their mother might have been trying to protect her. Maybe Kyle tried to stop it as well.”

“But isn’t he younger?”

“Yeah, she’s fifteen.”

“How are we going to manage with two kids?”

“I’m not turning them over to that monster,” she said, and left me sitting on the bed.

Twenty-four hours had passed and Kyle didn’t exhibit any telltale signs. Several of us stood around the monitors in the basement watching the boy pace back and forth. He looked up at the video cameras, exasperated. He kept repeating something.

“Anyone read lips?” I said.

We agreed to go see the kid.

“Hello?” he said from behind the door. “Still not undead.”

Laughing, we unlocked the door and brought him back inside the house. The cut on his ear had closed and the blood dried. What we had noticed with the undead was nothing healed. Whatever damage to their body they sustained stayed with them.