Blood of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (Undead World Trilogy, Book One) (20 page)

A wall of cars and trucks that had gone off the roads and barreled through the trees and bushes stood before them. There had to be at least thirty or forty cars, all stacked and smooshed together like a Hot Wheels race gone bad.

She stood with one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward the heap of smashed windows, tires and twisted metal. “How’s that even possible?”

“Panic. They probably freaked out the day of the rain and tried to outrun the dead.”

“Yeah, but they would have had to blast through how many trees and yards to get down here?”

“Don’t underestimate folks under pressure. I’ve seen too much to discount it. These trees aren’t densely packed and some are small. They probably bulldozed a whole bunch before hitting one or two their car couldn’t handle. Look, doesn’t matter. We got a problem. One side is blocked by the river, the other might be open. If not, we go uphill. No choice.”

“Fine,” she said and huffed.

What’s her problem?

Billie stepped around him and got closer to the cars. “Can’t climb them?” She pushed against a Volkswagen sitting partly atop a Caravan (how that happened, Joe hadn’t a clue). It rocked. Metal groaned. For a second Joe thought it might lose whatever slight hold it had on the van and come crashing down.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said.

She threw her hands up in the air. “Okay, then. We go around.”

Joe stared after her as she made her way along the wall of cars, stepping over tree stumps and large, fallen branches. He realized her problem. It was so simple: she was scared.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said as she walked with hands partly spread out to either side to maintain her balance on the uneven terrain.

A second later she slipped and fell backward into Joe’s arms. He held her from behind, arms tightly around her waist. The way her small body fit into his reminded him of April.

Crnch. Crnch.
Very faint, but near enough that Joe knew they had to get moving.

Their own footfalls on the twigs, branches and leaves masked the crunching sounds from earlier. Joe scanned the trees for any sign of movement. Nothing but browny-gray skeletons, dead bushes and a few dry brown leaves swirling on the air from a breeze that had just picked up.

The cars hadn’t smashed into each other in a perfect line, but instead weaved their way around the trees like a snake. Already the river was pretty far behind. The city was over to the right. They had to get over that way lest they take a detour that could get them ki—

Fierce growling followed by a low guttural bark shot through the air, sending a jolt through every bone in his body.

A big black wolf of a dog bounded out from behind a tree, its heavily-haired body slicked with greasy blood, its eyes dead and white, its fangs caked with rotten flesh.

Billie shrieked as five more appeared from behind the bushes, all six racing toward them.

“Billie!” he shouted.

She was already moving, dodging to the left, one of the undead dogs missing her, skidding to a halt, then twisting its body to come at her again. She was in mid sprint when Joe blasted a hole through the back of the dog’s head.

It didn’t even yelp.

The other five bowled over them like a tornado to a house; Joe hit the ground hard and fast, one of the beasts on top of him, its foul breath cool and smelling of rotten hamburger.

It’s breathing?
No sooner did the thought enter his mind than he put the barrel of the gun under the dog’s snapping jaws and pulled the trigger. A spray of black blood shot up through the back of the dog’s head then showered down, putrid and sticky.

Beside him, Billie had her forearm pressed against another dog’s throat. It was all she could do keep the animal’s snapping mouth away from her.

Joe cocked the hammer, two more shots falling into the chamber. Before he could aim, one of the beasts grabbed him by the foot, its yellow, meat-caked teeth digging into the leather and steel of his boot.

Thank goodness it didn’t get me. It would have bit my head clean off.

The dog dragged him through the leaves to one of its kin that was not far off, who bowed with hindquarters straight, front legs pressed to the ground, snapping. Its bark was loud, carrying the tone of more than one voice.

It missed my toes but its teeth are lodged in my boot. It bit through steel?

Joe aimed and took the dog out. It flopped over, forcing his ankle to the side, a numbing jolt rushing up his shin.

Screaming, Billie scrambled against the ground, trying to get away. She had somehow managed to flip over onto her stomach—a stupid mistake—and now the beast was standing on her back, about to take a bite out of the back of her head.

He shot the dog at his feet. It dropped, its face still stuck on his boot. Immediately the dog on Billie’s back straightened then pounced on him, its lower teeth just missing his scalp and grazing his head. Thick gobs of funky saliva slapped onto his shaved head like a bad bath. He twisted his arms underneath it and used both forearms to push the dog off to the side. The moment the dog hit the leaves, he sat up and put a bullet in the dog’s ear, straight through to its brain.

The dog stopped moving.

One left.

He tried to stand but the dog still stuck onto his boot made it impossible for him to get the heel of his left boot under him. He fell over the moment he put any weight on it.

The remaining dog growled, tore for him and its paws left the ground. Its dark, blood-soaked body sailed through the air.

“Watch out!” Billie shrieked.

Just before it landed on top of him, a blur of silver-gray struck the dog in the chest, followed by a dull
clunk.
The dog flew backward through the air like a foul ball.

Another
clunk
, and the iron pipe smashed into the dog’s head.

The young man holding the pipe turned to look at him.

It was Des.

19

On the Way Up

Unable to get around the cars, the three made their way uphill away from the river, the first order of business to get out of there before having a small reunion.

Billie and Des walked ahead, Joe trailing behind. They were talking about what just happened, but too softly for him to get in on the conversation. Not that he wanted to. The gloating look Des gave him as he used the iron pipe like a crowbar to pry the dog’s teeth out of his boot was enough. It clearly read: how’s that for a heroic entrance? See? I can be cool, too.

Or maybe he was reading too much into it. Whatever the case, Des was now the hero and Billie looked at the guy with star-filled eyes because he had saved her life.

Despite not wanting the thought to be there, it was.
I saved her life, too, and she didn’t look at me that way.
As if he wanted her to. There was only one girl for him, and she was dead.

But there was a piece of April in Billie, that same carefree spirit, the kind that seemed rooted in disguised insecurity, the kind that took pleasure in the small things, the important things.

Des walked boldly, tapping the iron pipe on an open palm, as if telling any onlooking zombies to “come get some.”

That guy’s gonna get slaughtered if he’s not careful.
Joe grimaced.
I can’t believe Billie is falling for it. She’s smarter than that! Um, right? Relax. You don’t know her. You shouldn’t even care.

But he did.

“Where were you?” Billie said loud enough so Joe actually felt part of the conversation.

“I called and called,” Des said. “Didn’t you guys hear me? I wasn’t
that
far behind.”

They reached the top of the hill. A wall of trees concealed whatever was beyond, likewise what was off to either side. The three stopped; Billie and Des caught their breath. Joe was just fine, his body used to being active.

“Side of the road. Looks like someone warmed it up for me. See?” He held up the pipe and showed the dried blood on its end peeking out from the fresh blood glistening on it.

“You should really clean that off,” Billie said.

“Why? Kind of a badge of honor, don’t you think?” he shot back.

“Do as she says. The undead can smell blood. It’s what attracts them to us.”
Has to be, anyway.

“Even if that was so, this is
undead
blood on this thing, remember? Should be fine.”

That’s it. Time to set this guy straight.
“You killed some dogs. Good. Billie and I are alive. Good. But don’t start going around thinking you can take on the whole world, one filled with creatures that are stronger than you, just because you killed a few pups.”

“No,” Joe said. “But you gotta come down off your throne and get back to the real world. I’m only going to ask you to do this once.”

“Or what? Think you can take me?” Des raised the pipe.

On instinct, Joe balled up his fist and sent it into Des’s nose.

“Gargh!” Des muttered, dropping the pipe and covering his face with his hands. Dark red liquid leaked out from between his fingers.