Blood of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (Undead World Trilogy, Book One) (27 page)

But that was before all this madness. Before the dead roamed the earth.

August looked around at the faces of the three young people who had come in through the window. The four of them were now crowded into a small maintenance room off one of the hallways in Winnipeg Square. A small candle taken from one of the shops provided the illumination, the room cast in a warm glow that, at any other time in history, would be quite comforting. Now, it reminded August of the possibility of hell to follow should any of these three try anything.

The power had officially gone out not long after he awoke. That meant no running water either.

The guy in the trench coat broke the silence. “How long have you been here?”

August studied the young man’s face, more specifically, his eyes. It could have been his imagination but he thought he saw a distant pain somewhere behind the man’s green-eyed gaze. “Not long. Since yesterday.”

The man nodded.

The young girl with the pink hair folded her arms. Though her eyes were cast to the floor, August knew she was addressing him when she spoke. “Are we safe in here?”

“As safe as can be, my dear, though I don’t know for how long.”

She glanced up at him quizzically. Should he tell them about the possibility they weren’t alone in the Square? That a creature yet unfound lurked about? No, not yet.

He flinched inside. He thought it was expected that you answered an elder regardless of the question posed. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine. And be truthful. I know kids like to make up names, if it suits them.”

The guy smirked and shook his head. “Okay, fine. My name is Des.”

“Does Des have a last name?”

Des shook his head again. There was a pause before he spoke. “Nottingham.” Des looked as if he were waiting for August to say something.

Des, Joe and Billie,
August thought.
You sure know how to pick ’em, Lord.
He wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that.

Silence reigned in the little room again.

“So what now?” Des asked after a time.

“We can’t stay here,” August said. “They know we’re in here. If they’re able to communicate with one another, they’ll surely tell their friends that a meal is waiting for them if they’re willing to dig a little.”

You don’t have a clue.
“Listen, right now we need to come up with an exit strategy, and more specifically, where we’re going to go once we’re out of here.”

“Couldn’t we just walk out?” Des asked. “When the coast is clear, I mean.”

“If that moment comes, that’s a possibility. But first things first. I need you boys to help me board up the windows upstairs. The dead saw us climb in. They could be trying to climb in as well. They could already be inside, for all we know.”

“Agreed,” Joe said. “When?”

“The sooner the better.”

“And we’ll use
what
to board them up?”

“Think what you want,” he added. He surveyed the room. “I haven’t had a chance to go through everything in here so look around. Find any tools, bring them out. We’ll take them upstairs and do what we can. I also want all of us going up there together in case we run into trouble.”

29

Upstairs

The four returned to the office upstairs, Joe and August taking the lead because they were the ones with the weapons. Billie followed closely behind them with Des trailing at the end. He clenched the iron pipe between his fingers as they trudged up the multiple flights of stairs to get up to the fifth floor.

I’m getting tired of this,
Des thought as he adjusted the small pouch of tools over his shoulder. He’d taken them from the maintenance room. His eyes and head ached from exhaustion. It was well past time to go to bed. Couple that with all that happened . . .

His stomach rumbled and every muscle in his scrawny body seemed to protest this further strain he was putting on them as they climbed. He knew full well he was grouchy, but he still couldn’t shake the swell of anger and frustration bubbling within his chest.

Up until now—namely up until Joe showed up—everything had been fine. He was finally getting used to living in an undead world and having to be “always on the run.” What’s more, he was also getting himself ready to talk to Billie, to
really
talk to her, and tell her how he felt. Des figured the odds of her accepting him were in his favor. There weren’t too many other “live folk” around for her to choose from. They were close. Best friends, even. But Joe changed everything. The guy, as much as Des hated to admit it, was a hero. He came out of the dark and saved their lives. He had appointed himself leader of their little band and now that they met August, he seemed to take to that role even more, though Des sensed a bit of unease on August’s part. The old guy probably figured that since he had lived nearly three times as long as each of them, he should be the one in charge. The guy had to at least be in his sixties. That and a respect-for-your-elders tradition probably played a strong part in it. With each passing moment, Des felt as if Billie was slipping away, especially because of his behavior as of late.

Keeping cool had never been his strong point. When things got intense, it was fly by the seat of your pants for him. He’d always been one to listen to his heart even when it sometimes landed him in trouble.

August opened the door leading onto the fifth floor and the three others walked past him as he held it open. The old man quickly moved past Des and Billie and rejoined Joe at the front.

“This one here,” August said and led them into the office where not long before he had hurled computers and office equipment onto the street.

August drew up his rifle and pointed it into the room before entering, just in case. Des braced himself for a rush of the undead to come pouring out.

“Clear,” the old man rasped.

They all went into the room. Des, Joe and Billie stopped in their tracks when August raised a finger, motioning for them to be silent.

The entire floor was quiet, and no sound indicating movement came from the street below.

Des and Joe went to the window and peered out. Below, dead bodies rimmed the lower edge of the building. A few straggling zombies milled about, some stopping to inspect their fallen kin, others just walking aimlessly here and there.

“Not very intelligent, are they?” August said as he came up beside Joe.

“I don’t know about that,” Joe said. “We’ve encountered a few who seemed to know what they’re doing. And there’re some out there who are fast, too.”

“Different breeds?” Des asked.

“Maybe,” Joe said. “Or maybe it just takes time for them to learn from one another or, even, for them to come to conclusions on their own in regards to what they’re capable of. Let’s face it: those are shells of human beings down there. Brain dead, for the most part. That is, smart enough to know what they have to do to survive but not so smart as to go about it in the best way. Thankfully, that works to our advantage. They have the IQ of
maybe
a one-year-old, if that.”

“I think it’s instinct,” August said. “Think about it: what’s their goal? To eat. Why does anyone eat? To survive. Why does anyone fight? To defend themselves or to survive, right?”

“What if there’s more to it than that?” Des said. “I mean, think about it. Look back to a year ago when this all began. The rain came. People turned into, well, zombies. But some people didn’t.
We
didn’t. If this was just some freak thing, wouldn’t all of us be like them?”

The hurt in the old man’s voice was real and Des suddenly felt ashamed about his own selfishness and the sense that Billie was being taken from him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me, too,” August replied.

“Will you be all right?” Joe asked the old man.

August put a hand on Joe’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Got some things to work through, but don’t we all, right? There’s more, but I’ll talk about it if and when the conversation allows.”

“I say we make a pledge,” Billie said.

“Pledge?” Des asked.

“Yeah. We need to stick together. Us four. Maybe more, should we come across anybody.” She looked at Des intently. “I know we don’t know each other all too well, but that’s fine. This isn’t about that. Not right now. Look at . . . look at what we’ve been able to manage when we worked together, when we backed each other up. We’d be dead otherwise. Maybe even like
them.
”

August nodded. Joe did the same.

So I guess there’s no going back to the way things were,
Des thought. He supposed it was for the best. Wait, what was he talking about? Of course it was for the best. He just had a hard time accepting it, was all. But this wasn’t about him. Wasn’t about Joe or August or even Billie. It was about trying to get things back on track, about, possibly, even reclaiming a dead world from those who owned the keys of death.

A low groan came from the street below and all four turned their attention toward the window. About seven or eight blocks from the building, a long procession of the undead were making their way toward it.

“They know we’re here,” August said. “Quick, let’s close this window up. They can’t come in.”

* * * *

Billie felt out of place as the men worked. Her main job was to simply hand them tools when they called for them. It was all she could do. She wasn’t that strong so she couldn’t lift and turn table tops once they had been detached from their legs. She couldn’t hold the heavy tops up against the wall as August worked to fasten them into place. Her arms were still fatigued from having to climb the fire hose. But it made her smile inside when August looked her way now and then and gave her a warm grin, when those old eyes bore a little twinkle as he tried to make her feel included. And for a moment, she was able to forget about the blood, the undead, the nearly dying.

Able to forget about her family.

She had a new family now, one that had shown it was willing to give anything and everything to ensure she was taken care of and that she was safe.

It took over an hour before the table tops were secured across the window frames, the men working as fast as they could. The undead they had seen advancing toward the building were down there somewhere, probably right up against the outside wall, searching for a way in. Every so often she could hear their mutterings and groaning below, their hollow banging on the glass lining the lower level.

“We’re okay, right?” she asked August.

“Hm? Yes. For now. But there’s strength in numbers and those things are multiplying. We can’t stay here. We need to get out. There’s also—” The old man cut himself off.

“There’s also?” Des prompted.

“Let’s finish this up then go back downstairs.”

The men quickly finished blocking the large window and examined their work as Billie put the tools away. She slung the pouch over her shoulder and waited for them by the door.