Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts (3 page)

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10:15 AM Approximate

Location: Clairemont, Undeadville USA

Joel and I did a perimeter sweep and verified that any Z’s hiding out in the other hotel rooms were dealt with.

We kept it quiet by using close-in weapons. We cracked open a door three rooms down from ours. She was facing a wall and didn’t even move until we stepped inside. That was enough to creep me out. She spun, looked at us with those milk white eyes, and then stumbled toward me. Joel stuck his big Marine knife into the woman’s head and she went down without a sound. The woman’s suitcases had been emptied all over the room. The refrigerator was a bust. We didn’t stay to investigate further because the smell wasn’t worth it.

The next room held a man dressed in rags. From what we could tell, he’d been stuck in there from the very beginning. He had a couple of bullet wounds to his chest, and in the room we found a single snub-nosed .38 and a pair of shells. I pocketed the gun and we moved on after a quick inspection turned up nothing but more gore. The poor son of a bitch had tried, as best we could tell, to kill himself. He had one bite mark on his neck. He’d chewed his fingers to the second knuckle and then started on his arm.

I put him out of his misery by driving the pipe wrench under his jaw. His mouth shattered, and when he fell back I moved in and crushed his skull like it was a thick egg.

When Joel and I entered room 223B, we found what had probably been a husband and wife wrapped in a fatal embrace. She had eight inches of steel buried in the back of her skull.

I stared at them and then turned to inspect the room.

That was a mistake.

The guy wasn’t dead. He lurched to his feet and nearly tackled me. Joel wove in for a slice, but I grabbed the Z just as his nasty mouth was inches from my shoulder and tried to toss him away.

He got ahold of my shirt and wouldn’t let go.

His face darted in again and I fought my gag reflex. Of all the rotted stinking things I’d smelled over the past few weeks, this was the worst. His breath was a horror. His teeth were a horror, and his nose was a crushed horror that had dried blood crusted all over his mouth and jaw.

I hit him in the temple, but the blow was short and it barely rocked him. He fell backward, almost taking me with him.

“Out of the way, Creed!” Joel cried.

“Think I’m not trying?”

The biter dove in again, and this time I hit him across the face. His jaw snapped shut, but he managed to fall back against the bed and pull me with him.

I rolled to the side but he stuck with me. Something closed on the back of my shirt and I think I screamed like a little girl.

I whipped my elbow back and cracked him across the shoulder. He fell away and I was free. Rolling to the other side of the bed, I let Joel do his thing.

Kelly moved in and stuck the guy in the throat with his knife. He ripped the blade back so forcefully that the Z’s head nearly came off. The guy’s second life ran out as he fell off the bed and onto his wife’s half eaten corpse.

I sat up and gasped for breath. Nothing like fighting for your life when you’re already exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and pissed off.

“Goddamn,” was all I could get out.

Joel wiped his blade on the bedspread and then sheathed it.

“That’s why I never got married.” Joel stared at the dead couple.

At least the pair
were in something resembling a loving embrace.

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Panting and shaking, I sat for a minute and caught my breath. Joel looked me over and pronounced me still alive. I wobbled to my feet and checked all my extremities. No bite. Christ. That was not how I wanted this scouting mission to
begin.

I moved to the refrigerator and opened it to find green and rotted store-bought sandwiches still wrapped in plastic. The prize turned out to be a half empty bottle of schnapps. I’d never in my life thought about tasting the stuff, but after almost making a one-way trip to Undead Central, it looked pretty inviting.

Joel poked through their luggage and came up with an open bag of chips. He took one out, sniffed it, then ate it. He grinned and handed me the bag after digging out a small handful.

“Yeah? Look what I found.”

I took the top off the schnapps, took a tentative sniff, and then decided it probably wouldn’t kill me. I’d had hooch on the ship that could strip the side off a destroyer; this shit was like lemonade by comparison.

“Early for drinking?”

“I’m a sailor,” I said and tossed back another shot.

The chips were spicy and that suited me fine. Thoughts of bringing some back for the rest of the crew evaporated as we handed the bag back and forth.

The room had a pair of prints on one wall depicting the coast. Clothes had been left in the closet but nothing my size. I found a bright red dress that would probably look great on Sails. Instead, I held it up for Joel.

“You could rock this.”

Joel snorted.

Joel pawed through the luggage and found a brown bag. He opened it up, looked inside, and then dropped it.

I took a long pull while Joel wiped his hands on his tactical armor.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked.

“It’s for you.”

I took another shot and then handed the bottle to Joel. He eyed it, smelled it, and then took an equally long pull. He lowered the bottle with a sputter.

I pushed the bag around with my foot until something slid out.

“Oh my fucking God.” I laughed.

It was a huge black dildo.

“I thought you Navy pukes were into that kind of thing.”

“Nah, man. I like a Marine penis. Small, but stands at attention with a stiff breeze.”

“That is the gayest thing you’ve ever said, Creed.”

Joel handed the bottle back, and I took another shot because it was going fast. It felt good. One more, and then Joel finished the bottle.

I picked up the brown bag and moved to the couple on the floor. The dead guy’s mouth was stuck open, so I slid the rubber penis in between his teeth.

“Hey Joel, I think I know why these two weren’t getting along.”

“Dude. That is just fucking morbid.” Joel sat down on the side of the bed and laughed until he nearly fell off.

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The next room had a similar décor and was covered in enough blood to make Hannibal Lector
himself swing by to congratulate the former occupants.

Joel had jimmied the door with his knife and let it swing open. The room was dark and smelled rancid. The sound was what got to me. I wanted to turn and puke, then gouge out my eyeballs. A pair of Z’s had been munching on the inhabitants for God knew how long. They tottered toward us on shaking legs, but we did them the courtesy of putting them down.

The room was a bust and so were the two after.

After making our way to the icemakers, we found that one was full of water. The other had blood on the side; we didn’t bother opening it.

The next few rooms turned up a few items. A couple of bags of peanuts slightly larger than the samples they pass out on airplanes. A handful of tootsie rolls in some guy’s fanny pack. He also had a wad of bills, though, so Joel and I split them up. Probably useless, but five hundred dollars was still five hundred dollars.

The last room was empty of inhabitants. A set of suitcases had been stacked in the closet. I worked on one while Joel pried the lock of a smaller bag.

It was just clothes and toiletries. I took out an electric shaver and tested the battery. It ran at full speed so I spent a minute buzzing the fuzz off my face in a darkened mirror.

Joel found an unopened tube of strawberry lip balm. I didn’t even ask when he slipped it into his pocket. There was a two-liter bottle of soda that had been opened and then resealed. I unscrewed the top
and was met with the sound of released CO2. I sniffed and then decided that if the Z virus was living in cola, we were all doomed.

In a desk drawer I found a bag of corn chips and added it to our haul.

Joel returned from the bathroom with a pair of cups still wrapped in plastic. We toasted each other and then drained our portion in a couple of gulps. It was flat, warm, and fucking delicious.

After forty-five minutes of breaking into rooms we had pitifully little to show for it:

• A couple of protein bars
  
• A liter of generic soda
  
• 3 small bags of roasted peanuts
  
• An unopened bag of corn chips
  
• 15 tootsie rolls (I stashed a few in my pocket)
  

We returned with four pitchers of what I was sure was rancid water, but after the purifying tabs did their work I was the first to down half a container. After we’d drunk our fill, we went out to fetch more. I didn’t even complain about the chemical taste.

Markus asked if we’d found anything else that might be useful.

“Nah,” Joel said.

“We found an unhappily married couple but they weren’t very chatty,” I said.

“Probably due to the dick in the guy’s mouth,” Joel said.

After that it was my turn to burst into laughter.

“Glad you guys had fun. Now we got a serious issue. One of the boxes of MRE’s turned out to be filled with ammo. That’s great in the long run, but it means we’re down to four full meals and there are a lot of mouths. We can probably make it last the day. So what’s the plan?”

“I’ll take Joel and the big squid here on a scouting run tomorrow. Did you get coms working?” Sails asked.

“I think so,” Markus said and held up a large black band.

“That’s good. Real good,” Joel said.

“We’ll be able to stay in contact. I’ll take up station on the roof and provide over watch with an M14. It’s a solid weapon with a range of five hundred yards. One bummer? I got limited ammo so don’t expect me to pick off twenty fucking ZULU’s, got it?”

“How many rounds?” Joel asked.

“About thirty five.  You guys get into the shit too deep and you haul ass back here, got it? Roz, Christie, and Donny here will be backup.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Joel nodded.

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21:15 hours Approximate

Location: Clairemont,
Undeadville USA

It’s late and I can barely keep my eyes open. Tomorrow we are going to expand our area of operations and hopefully come back with a bonanza of food for the next few days. That’s if we don’t join the crawlers first.

And so the
fuckening continues.

Entry #11 – Game Face

12:45 hours approximate

Location: Just
outside of Los Angeles – Undead-Central

Supplies:

• 3 MRE’s
  
• 1 box of chips and candy
  
• 1 half-gallon of water requiring purifying tablets
  

The following day would have an early reveille and I was already exhausted. I pretty much dragged my ass to the next hotel room, Joel in tow, and took in our new vacation spot.

Our room had a pair of queen-sized beds that looked – and worse, smelled – like something had died on them. Joel turned over one of the mattresses and rolled out a sleeping bag he’d grabbed from the HUMVEE. With Bailey gone, we had some extra gear. Joel lay down and broke out a manual about some type of communication unit.

Christy moped and took up station in the remnants of what had once been a very luxurious spa tub. At least it was clean. She dug a couple of blankets and pillows out of the closet and set up a cozy little nest. She hadn’t been talkative since we left San Diego, and I couldn’t blame her. Two weeks ago, she’d been home with her parents and brother. Now they were all gone and she was with a bunch of strangers. I remembered my childhood. Dad used to drink a lot. Sometimes he and Mom would disappear for a day or two and then show up like nothing was different. Like I was supposed to ignore the fact that they’d abandoned me.

I hated the feeling of abandonment. I knew it had to be much worse for Christy, so I took every opportunity to speak with her and make her feel at ease. Roz was like a foster mother to her and did her best to keep Christy happy.

I tried to joke with Christy, but she rarely even smiled. She just looked scared and lost, and no amount of dumb things I could say would ever make her feel better. Craig had been a big loss for her.
A loss for all of us. I’d never had kids and, quite frankly, didn’t know the first thing about being a dad. Still, I felt like I owed her something, even if it was just a kind word or a lame joke.

“You holding up alright? You look like a princess in that tub.”

“My kingdom used to be bigger.”

I smiled and dug around in my pockets. I sat on the side of the tub and held my hand behind me, then looked over my shoulder and winked at her.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, and scooped up the handful of warm tootsie rolls. “Thank you.”

“Don’t let Joel see. A Marine hopped up on sugar is scary as hell.”

“I’ve seen enough scary sights for a lifetime,” she said, and settled back to unwrap a treat.

“I’m sorry, Christy.
Really sorry. I know they’re just words, but I hope you understand that we’re here to help and look out for you, okay? I can’t imagine how hard it’s been, but I promise you – nothing is going to happen to you. Me and Roz will be Papa and Mama Bear—with automatic weapons.”

She looked at me from beneath a mass of dark curls; tears streamed down her face.

“I miss them so much and I’m so scared. Every place we go is worse than the last. I just want to go home, you know? I just want to go back to my old life.”

“I’m with you.” I dug a napkin out of one of my pockets. I inspected it and found the inner fold clean, so I used it to dab at her cheeks.

“Papa bear, huh? That’s good, Creed.” Roz joined us.

I rubbed Christy’s head because I didn’t trust myself to hug her. If I did, I’d be in tears, too, so I left and headed for bed.

My head swirled from too much schnapps and not enough food. I sat on the side of the bed and just stared at the slit in the curtains. Daylight snuck in, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

The events of the last few days crashed down on me. Sleeping on a roof, a half-day of rest in a ratty half-assed cot under an equally half-assed tent, surrounded by civilians with no hope in their eyes. Stuck on top of a HUMVEE while it leapt away from an army of the dead. Clinging to the gunner’s portal for an hour, leaving my arms and shoulders feeling like they were lead bars. Watching Bailey fall.

Anna Sails had stayed to talk with the other mercenaries, but joined us a few minutes later. I wanted to ask what they’d talked about, but I didn’t think I’d like the answers. Besides, I was exhausted and didn’t feel like fighting. She closed the door behind her and looked at our pitiful space.

I offered to sleep on the floor, but I used my best puppy-dog eyes on Anna. She glared, but then looked at the mattress.

Anna rolled out a sleeping bag while her eyes burned holes in me.

“Creed – I don’t have to say it, do I?”

“Say it? What’s ‘it’?”

“You stay on your side. Got it?”

“Sails, you’re nice and all, but it’s the zombie fucking apocalypse. Know what the last thing on my mind is?”

“You’re a man. I know the only thing that’s on your mind.”

“You kill me, Sails. Now, if we were out in the world, the real world that existed a few weeks ago, I might take a shot. I might show up with flowers, most of them in one piece, and I might even say nice things. You know … assuming you’re my type, and all.”

“You have a type?”

“Yeah. Cute and armed.”

Sails expelled a breath and fought down a smile.

“You and Roz could bunk together,” I suggested. “I’m used to the smell of Marines by now.”

Roz was sprawled out on the bed next to Joel, watching as he stripped her .45. He showed her a couple of things, stuff he’d taught me a week ago.

“They look cozy over there,” she said.

They certainly did. How quickly Roz forgot about our little moment in the garage. Come to think of it, that was probably a moment only in my mind. I was probably the only one who gave that time any importance. 

“Fine. That shit’s sorted. Now keep the snoring down,” I said, then pulled up a blanket and promptly passed the fuck out.

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