The Undead World (Book 5): The Apocalypse Renegades (8 page)

“Just run,” Neil said. “It’s your only chance but cut us free first.”

Jeb pushed Neil aside and went to the door. The last of the shooting had trickled off and now there were only whispers in the dark.

They
were closing in on the building.

“We’ll make it to the corn,” Jeb said. “We can hide there. It’ll be okay. They won’t see us.”

Deanna raised an eyebrow at this, clearly thinking otherwise. “You should still untie us,” she said. “We’ll be able to run faster.”

“Yeah right! You’ll be able to run away,” Jeb shot back. “Now go. You,” he pointed at Neil. “Go first. Then the girl.” Jeb took up a position behind Bill, using the big man as a human shield. Neil stepped out into a dirt yard that was crisscrossed by ridgelines of dried mud that had long ago been formed by tractors working in an early autumn rain.

Fifty yards ahead, the corn formed perfect lines like regimental soldiers on parade. Closer, just to their right, was one of the beastly tractor-like machines, the purpose of which Neil was just about as clueless as he could be.

“Go,” whispered Jeb.

Neil had stopped barely ten feet from the door. There had been the crunch of old leaves being ground underfoot just around the corner to his left. He pointed with a jutting chin toward the sound and a second later a man appeared, though in the dark he seemed more constructed of shadows than flesh. He was dressed in black and his weapon was more of the same in color that is, right up until it flashed, brilliantly.

On some level, Neil knew that the gun had issued a thunderous clap when it went off but all he actually heard was the thin sound the bullet made as it passed within an inch of his cheek. It felt as though an electric shock ran through him, freezing him in place, a perfect target.

Next came the sound of a rifle’s bolt being hauled back, and this was followed by the light “tink” of spent brass dropping onto the hard packed earth.

Jeb had been standing nearly as uselessly as Neil; but at that light “tink” of metal he brought up his own weapon and began firing. His first shot missed to the left, striking the side of the barn, three feet from his intended target. His next shot also missed, but closer. The third did the trick, blazing a hole through the man’s face. The next three from his automatic weapon went uselessly out into the corn.

“I got him,” Jeb whispered as the man fell. He stood and stared in amazement, wasting the only three seconds he had left to escape. With his face contorted in a mixture of shock and regret he looked overcome by what had happened and, by the time he forced himself to move, the sound of running feet could be heard coming from all around them.

One of the people coming after them had a flashlight and for some reason Jeb shot at the beam as it lit up the dirt. “Get back!” he screamed.

“Or what?” a voice demanded from just around the side of the barn. “You ain’t in no position to bargain, boy. The best you can hope for is to walk away with your life.”

“Fuck you!” Jeb replied.

Neil turned on him. “Fuck you? That’s the best you got? That’s pretty weak.”

The man around the corner chuckled. “Listen to him, boy. That was some weak-ass shit. It shows you got no guts. Do yourself a favor, drop your weapon and just walk away. It’s the best offer I’m gonna give you.”

It wasn’t much of a choice; the sounds of many zombies heading their way were growing louder with each passing second. “No,” Jeb said, quietly. “That’s no kind of offer.”

“It’s all you’re getting,” the man said. “Other than all the bullets you can stomach, that is.” To add to Jeb’s misery there was a sudden movement behind the tractor as another of their pursuers took up a position on the right flank.

“Get back!” Jeb screamed. “Or…or I swear I’ll kill the prisoners.” He turned the assault rifle on Big Bill. “I swear, I’ll do it.”

“You won’t,” the man from around the corner said. “What good would it do you? Nothin! It’ll just get us mad and you don’t want that, boy, I guarantee it. You get us mad and maybe we don’t let you walk away. Maybe we shoot out your spine so the stiffs will get you alive.”

With his sweaty hands gripping the assault rifle desperately, Jeb shove the muzzle into Bill’s stomach and said, “You expect me just to walk out all by myself where you can gun me down? No way. If I die, they die. You hear me? That’s the way it’s going to be.”

Neil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Jeb’s threat made no sense really, what good would killing them do? “You’re talking crazy,” he said. “Listen to yourself, Jeb. It sounds like you want to die.”

Big Bill began to nod his head quickly up and down. “Take their offer, man. You don’t have a choice.”

“Shut up!” Jeb snapped, shoving the rifle even deeper into Bill’s large gut. The big man took a step back and then another before running up against the side of the barn. Jeb followed him step for step, holding the weapon steady.

Then, Jeb wiped his sweaty right hand on the side of his jeans. Despite the dark, one of their pursuers saw the simple movement. He popped up from behind one of the tractor’s large wheels and shot his weapon twice. He must’ve had cat’s eyes because he hit with both shots.

Jeb made a sad noise before his knees buckled and he fell back on his ass. There were two dark splotches on his shirt that began to grow in size as his blood came gushing out of him.

Neil’s stomach was in his throat at the sudden violence. He found it impossible to cry out, even when Jeb found the strength to lift his rifle one more time. He yanked back on the trigger, emptying his magazine into Big Bill. Jeb kept firing even after Bill’s legs gave out and he fell into the dusty yard to add his blood to Jeb’s.

Despite his body being riddled with bullets, Big Bill died a slow death. Somehow no major vessels had been struck, making it a long couple of minutes as the blood leaked out of his body from a dozen holes. During that time, Neil knelt over Bill and spoke in soothing whispers, lying to him how it was going to be alright.

Their new captors weren’t too happy with Neil. One by one they had come creeping up, wondering at the delay. They threatened him and hissed warnings about the approaching zombies. One even kicked Neil in the back, but nothing would budge him until his friend’s eyes had finally closed.

“If you’re so worried about the stiffs, you could just leave us and go,” Neil suggested. There were eight men around Deanna and Neil, holding an assortment of weapons: shotguns, pistols, M4s. Although they were an ugly, unwashed group, they didn’t seem to throw the least amount of fear into Neil. He remained utterly calm, just as he had in the River King’s prison. That calm was so complete it made Neil appear apathetic to their plight, and their plight wasn’t what anyone would consider good.

Deanna was practically wetting herself in fright. All the shooting had stirred up the local zombies. The corn was thick with them. So far, the corner of the barn and the tractor had hidden the little group but it wouldn’t be long before they were spotted.

Finally, one of the men threatened Neil with his gun. “Get up or I’ll shoot you through the fucking spine.” When Neil only snorted derisively, the man looked over at the two of the largest of them and said, “Danny, Jerry, carry him.”

One of them, Danny or Jerry retorted, “What the fuck? It’s like 80 yards to the trucks and there’s a fuck load of stiffs out there. What happens when we run into them?”

“I know what I’m going to do; I’m going to drop his sorry ass,” the other man said, going to Neil and grabbing him by the back of his trussed up arms.

“Shit,” the first said grabbing Neil’s ankles.

“What about you, sweetheart?” the leader of the group asked Deanna. “You going to give us any problems?” She glanced once at Bill’s lifeless corpse and shook her head. The man came closer and raked his eyes up and down her body; even in the dark his lust emanated from him polluting the air between them. “Good,” he said. He grabbed her arm high up, above the bicep and smiled down on her. He was bearded, a long and shaggy thing, like some sort of Civil War throwback and his breath smelled of decaying teeth. “Let’s go.”

They headed around the long end of the barn and, perhaps because the dark of night, the zombies remained only shadows among the corn. At the far end of the barn, the leader paused to take in the open land between them and the trucks which were parked haphazardly in the corn fields just off the road. They were 50 yards away and between them were six or seven zombies, one of which was heading right at them.

“Clear enough,” the leader said. “Come on.” He led the way, Deanna in one hand, and an assault rifle in the other. He had barely taken three steps when a high, almost girlish scream stopped him in his tracks.

It was Neil. The group stopped and stared in astonishment, no one really knowing what to do or even why he was screaming.

“Shut up!” the man who had Neil by the shoulders demanded, shaking him like a ragdoll. Neil paused at this but just long enough to take a big breath and then burst out again with a new scream.

“Shut him up, Danny, for fuck’s sake!” the leader hissed.

Danny was the one holding Neil’s torso; he dropped Neil in the dust without warning and clapped a hand across his mouth. In the silence that followed everyone stared outward, waiting to see if the zombies would react. A few did: all the ones in front of them and a smattering from the corn.

“That’s not so bad,” the leader said through gritted teeth. He looked back at the others, adding, “Come on, it’s just a few fuckers.” Deanna now counted ten between them and the safety of the trucks. Not so many for such a heavily armed group to worry about. But, again they had only taken a few steps, before the grunting sound of someone in pain stopped them. Danny was hissing through gritted teeth as Neil bit into his palm.

“Son of a bitch!” Danny cried, yanking away his hand. Neil didn’t waste a moment and let out a new bloodcurdling scream. The leader let go of Deanna, rushed back, and shoved the barrel of his rifle into Neil’s face, gouging his cheek. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll blow a hole in you, I swear to God.”

“Do it!” Neil yelled. “Go ahead, pull the trigger.”

This wasn’t something the leader had expected and he paused. As he did Deanna whispered, “Neil, what are you doing? The zombies can hear you.”

“I don’t care,” Neil answered. “What do we have to lose? We’re dead either way. So come on you…you fucking zombies! Come and get us.”

The fact that he had actually cursed, Deanna knew, meant he was deadly serious. She, on the other hand, wasn’t on board with his death wish. “Please stop,” she begged.

A new scream faltered on Neil’s lips. “Trust me,” he said. “We’re better off with the zombies, than as prisoners of the River King. Come on, scream with me.” She couldn’t bring herself to do it; she had a baby growing inside her to think about.

The leader of the group had enough. He pointed at Danny and snarled, “Put a bullet in his head if he makes one more sound.”

“Fuck yeah, I will,” Danny said, shoving the barrel of his rifle into Neil’s temple.

“You’ll be doing me a favor,” Neil said. He then smiled a creepy serial-killer grin of pure evil. “Maybe I won’t need to scream after all.” Everyone followed his gaze. In the last thirty seconds a swarm of zombies had heard the noise and were coming to feast. They were breaking through the corn by the hundreds. The group was virtually surrounded.

The leader grabbed Deanna’s arm and began running. Behind her there was a sound of huffing as the others hurried to keep up, and further behind that was cursing. She looked back and saw Neil kicking and bucking, fighting with everything he had to keep from getting to the safety that the trucks represented. He was straight up crazy. Deanna thought for sure he’d be shot however, there were too many zombies to waste a bullet on Neil.

They were closing fast.

The bearded leader stopped and let go of Deanna’s arm. He brought his rifle up and began to squeeze off rounds one after another. He was panicked. He had both eyes open and the gun wasn’t set in the pocket of his shoulder with any authority. Worse, he was hurrying his shots, missing with a surprising number of them. Moments later all the men were shooting. Unable to do anything, Deanna cringed from the noise. The zombies in front were mowed down and then the way was clear.

Almost as one they rushed forward, however Deanna caught her foot on something unseen in the dark. With her hands still tied behind her back she twisted as she came down, landing on her side. Two men picked her up by the arms but unfortunately they had her backwards and there was no time to turn around, so she had to shuffle her feet with the result that she tripped a second time. When she was picked up again, still backwards, she had a terrible view: there were zombies stumbling after them, countless zombies.

Neil seemed to have given up his desire to be eaten alive and was hurrying as fast as he could with his hands tied behind his back. His captors, fearing for their lives, no longer pulled him along.

The leader of the group yelled something and then Deanna was dropped. All around her guns began firing like mad, lighting up the night with a thousand brief sparks, giving the corn an eerie strobe light effect. Awkwardly, she rolled to her side and got up. They were again surrounded by rank after rank of the undead. The men formed a tight little circle and shot outward, blasting away at the nearest zombies.

“Hold the line!” the leader cried. “But keep moving to the trucks. As long as no one breaks we can make it out again.”

Neil had forced himself into the perimeter, but he wasn’t done looking for a way to escape. “Whatever you do, don’t get in the trucks,” Neil shouted over the noise of the guns. “You have to trust me.”

At the moment, Deanna didn’t trust anyone except the zombies. They were going to eat her, period. That was a fact. Neil was crazy, and that was another fact. “Neil, please…don’t do this. You’ll get eaten and nothing is worse than that. Nothing!”

He wouldn’t listen and only continued to smile his creepy smile, until that is, the little group shot their way to the trucks. At that point all hell broke out. It was complete mayhem. The perimeter broke down in a second as the men rushed for the trucks, practically leaving Deanna and Neil to fend for themselves. Only the leader of the group made any attempt to save them. He jumped in the truck and held the door open for them to climb in as he shot his rifle right past their heads; she could feel the wind from their passing blowing back her hair.

She had never in her life felt so helpless as she did then. With her hands tied she couldn’t defend herself, she could barely run and worse, she couldn’t climb into the truck. “Help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I can’t get in. Someone has to help me.” No one did. The leader was doing everything he could to keep the zombies back while the other men simply took off in the other trucks. Within seconds it became obvious that the leader would have to do the same if he was going to live.

“Sorry,” he said, before kicking Deanna in the chest and knocking her back. With the door still open he floored the truck, driving it in a sharp arced circle, running over and crushing zombies under his wheels. After one complete turn he then sped off for the roadway, leaving Neil and Deanna alone among a thousand zombies.

“This is all part of the plan,” Neil said, his voice high and warbly.

“What plan?”

“The plan to be heroes. We have just saved all our friends,” he said, not realizing their friends on the other side of the river were heading into a trap.

“What about us?” Deanna asked. She knew the answer: a vain attempt to run, followed by death from a thousand teeth as she screamed her lungs out.

Neil knew this answer as well. He gave her a watery smile and a paltry shrug. Together they ran for their lives as the zombies swarmed in.