DEAD: Blood & Betrayal: Book 11 of the DEAD Series (21 page)

Landing hard, Chad felt his chin bounce off the pavement. The pain and warmth were instant and he had no doubt that he’d busted himself open. Scrambling to his feet, he fully expected to see his hunters emerge and turn towards him in pursuit.

Nothing.

Chad took off again. This time, it was like that ‘running in sand’ nightmare where you ran as fast as you could and made no progress. And then he was on the other side and diving down into the dense and welcome growth of the tall grass. He stayed in a crouch until he reached the woods. Once he felt safe enough, he slowed to a walk. As the adrenaline began to ebb, he could feel pain just about everywhere in his body. His ankle felt like it was in bad shape, his boot beginning to feel like it was constricting any blood flow to his right foot, and his thigh was on fire.

He continued to move with caution. It was quite possible that whoever these people were, they had returned to wherever they came from. It was just as likely that they knew where he would be headed and move to intercept him before he could warn everybody of this new danger.

He glanced over his shoulder more than once the rest of the way until he could see the walls that signaled his safety. When he reached the massive and open clearing that was strictly and very well maintained, Chad began to wave his arms above his head in an obvious sign of distress and danger to get the attention of the tower and gate guards.

He had only covered half the distance when the closest set of gates opened and a team of five horses came out at a full gallop. Chad stopped walking and let them close the remaining distance. As they approached he could see that they were searching the tree line past him for any signs of danger.

The leader yanked back on the reins and came to a stop. The others stopped just beyond and the riders were obviously looking for trouble.

“Thank goodness another one of you made it,” the man (Chad was almost certain that his name was Marcus) said with obvious relief.

“What do you mean?” Chad asked. “I know I got hit and the riders who came to divert the herd of zombies rode into an ambush, but—”

“Two other mounted patrols were hit and only three of our twenty rovers have returned…counting you,” Marcus explained.

Chad was pulled up onto the back of one of the horses and they returned to the relative safety of their walled community. As they did, Chad had to wonder if there was anyplace left in the world that might be safe.

***

“Who the hell are you?” Jody asked, climbing to his feet, but maintaining a wary posture.

The man across from him was not incredibly imposing. He seemed average height, and his mop of curly, sandy colored hair was a filthy mess. He wore wire-framed glasses without any lenses, and his eyes were sort of a muddy brown. If Jody passed this guy on the street, he would forget him almost instantly (except for the wire-framed glasses, maybe).

“My name is Gable Matczak. I met your friend Tracy. Tracy Sasser I think was his name? We can talk later about your choice in squad members.” The man shot a glance down at the dead body lying a few feet away. “We don’t have time right now, you still got a couple of these folks lurking.”

Almost on cue, a man let out a yell and dove from the top of the RV. Gable side-stepped with an incredible elegance and the would-be attacker landed gracelessly on the ground. Gable stepped in just as quick and dug his booted heel down into the back of the neck of the man. There was only a moment of struggle before an audible ‘crack’ ended it.

“You go that way, I’ll go this way,” Gable whispered, pointing out the way he wanted Jody to go.

“B-b-but—” Jody stammered.

“No time! Later!” the man barked as he took off at a fast trot. And with that, Gable was gone.

Jody turned and headed for the corner of the last RV. He heard running footsteps and halted, ducking low. A person could get a knife in the chest catching somebody by surprise. Getting low almost guaranteed that any reflexive action would catch nothing but air.

Sure enough, the person rounded the corner almost at a run. They almost collided with Jody and ended up on their back as they tried to leap backwards and escape. A large knife swished through the air a good few inches above Jody’s head.

A second later, Jody was up and on the man. He smashed the butt of his knife into the person’s head with the intent that maybe he could take one alive and get a few answers. The man’s eyes rolled back and Jody quickly searched the body for cuffs. He found them on a belt pouch and flipped his captive onto their stomach. He pulled the man’s arms around behind his back and slapped on the cuffs. As a secondary measure, he pulled off the belt the man was wearing and wrapped it around the head, cinching it tight as a gag.

Confident that this person was out of the game, he scrambled up and took off at a jog. He did not hear anything and was only slightly surprised when he passed one of the RVs and caught a glimpse of this Gable person getting to his feet. Another man was down; another neck had been snapped. Jody was no idiot; that took a degree of strength to pull off. Snapping a neck was not as easy as it looked in the movies.

“Where is the girl you were with?” Gable asked as he approached.

“Wait!” Jody hissed, holding his hands up. “I appreciate the fact that you more than likely just saved my ass. But I don’t know who you are or where you came from. Not to sound ungrateful, but I would not just tell you something like that.”

The man paused and seemed to consider Jody’s words. He pressed his lips tight and then gave a curt nod. “I understand where you are coming from, and if we had all day to shoot the shit, I could tell you all kinds of stories and give a proper introduction. As it is, I have no idea what you are doing here and could have just as easily killed you if not for seeing you take down a couple of these assholes. Somebody very dear to me is in that house and I plan on getting her out. We obviously have similar interests, or at least it seems that way. When we are done, we can exchange names and all that crap.”

Jody saw the man’s point. Time was of the essence. He had no idea what was going on in that house, but he had a pretty good idea that this guy could help him get his daughter out.

“They have my little girl in there,” Jody blurted.

“So then you see how us standing here and wasting time with all this talking nonsense is a stupid thing.” Gable pushed past Jody and moved to the end of the RV where he could get a good look at the house.

“She is on the other side of the house,” Jody whispered, despite being far enough from the house that it was unlikely that anybody could hear if he spoke in a conversational voice. “There was one guy on a balcony. She was going to try and get close enough to take him down. She is a pretty good shot…and her name is Jan.”

“Fine,” Gable muttered, but Jody knew the man was paying him almost no attention. He was focused on the main entrance.

Suddenly, the front door opened and a figure stepped outside. Jody knew instantly who it was and felt like he had obviously missed something; otherwise, how could he explain the presence of Margarita?

“Hey, Jody?” she sing-songed. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

***

Entry Thirty-six—

I am waiting. I am hunting.

When it comes right down to the cold, hard facts, it is not like I have anything else to do. Otherwise I probably would have quit doing this a long time ago.

As I sit here with my journal, I wonder if anybody ever reads the ones that I leave behind. I am sort of sneaky in that I usually go someplace where they have books and such for trade and then slip mine in amongst the others.

Guerrilla marketing at its finest.

I should also admit here that I don’t always catch my target. In fact, more have managed to elude me than I have captured. It is the nature of things. I do my best, but the reality is that, unless the person is actually pointed out to me on the spot, I have to search. People can fade into oblivion now. No more Amber Alerts to aid in these sorts of things. Also, and this is the part that I do struggle with from time to time, I am taking one side of a story and buying into it completely.

There was one guy who denied what he’d been accused of right up to the very end. He died with “I didn’t do it” on his lips. Maybe he was just made of stubborn stock. Or…maybe he was not lying.

There is no court of law these days. Sure, some settlements have their own version of law and order; but I have seen people ended based solely on hearsay. Again, that is the world we live in. Not that it was all that different before, but it is even more lax in actual justice and quick to condemn. It reminds me of stories of the Salem Witch Trials. Point and scream and you got a conviction.

All that said, I don’t have any doubts this woman has done what she is accused of doing. And now that I am hot on her trail and confident that she no longer has the baby with her, I am eager to catch her and put her down like a mad dog.

But on nights like this when I can hear the screams of a man being broken on the wheel (who thought of that nasty little sentence?), I wonder if I am part of the problem, or part of the solution. I tell myself that I am some sort of avenger, but I am really nothing more than a contract killer. What is worse, I don’t even require payment in many cases. Does that make me evil? Am I the one who people should be hunting?

Entry Thirty-seven—

She slipped my grasp again.

I was right on her heels. In fact, at one point, I bet we were within fifty feet of each other. Only, this time, I feel like it is just a matter of time before I have her. She made a big mistake. It is also obvious that she has no idea that I am on her trail; unless she actually wants to be caught.

Early this morning, I was sitting down to breakfast when there was a huge commotion. I walked out onto the street, my senses tingling. Sure enough, this lady drops to her knees in the middle of what passes for a street in this little community. She starts screaming and crying about how her baby is gone.

Naturally, everybody is all twisted up and unsettled. One guy even spins on me. Newcomers are always the easiest target. That is also why I sleep in a public place most times when I stop over for a spell. It ensures that I am not unaccounted for at any time.

I gave a description of Mary and asked if anybody recalls seeing somebody that fits the bill. Sure enough, the mother said that Mary stopped at her home just before sunset. She said that she was just passing through and wanted to know if there might be a wagon for sale. The woman had directed her to a neighbor.

That man picked up the story from there. He recalled Mary and admitted to selling her a small cart as well as one of his old mules. As it was, she could barely afford either, but he felt so sorry for her seeing as how she was just trying to escape the clutches of a terrible man who beat her regularly. He did not recall at any point seeing a child.

Runners were sent to each of the gates. (This particular community covers an area of about ten square blocks.) The north gate came back with an affirmative. While we were waiting, I managed to let a few of the calmer folks know who I was and what I was doing. As soon as I knew which gate she left from, I was on the move.

I bent my rule about not accepting any form of pre-payment when one of the people who had heard everything made the offer of lending me a horse. I swore that I would return it if at all possible. The man told me that it would be mine to keep if I brought the baby back. As I started to ride away, he amended his offer in a harsh whisper that it would also hold up if I only managed to bring back the head of this evil woman.

I am certain that I will catch her tomorrow. Currently I am just waiting for the ferryman to return to take me across. I can actually see the wagon on the flat-bottomed barge that is just now halfway across this river. The man who took my fare affirmed that a woman fitting Mary’s description was the driver of that wagon. Also, she was in the company of a very fussy little boy who could not yet be a year old.

It is still a few hours until dark. There is simply no way that I can imagine her escaping me.

14

The Geek’s Wife Makes Waves

“I think maybe we should send for Elliot,” one of the guards managed to choke out.

“How long have you been in this place?” Catie said with a scowl. “And lay that body down. You don’t need to hold him any longer. He won’t be putting up any more resistance.”

The two security guards laid the body of Clarence Carson down on the floor. The hole in in his temple was still oozing dark blood that smelled almost as bad as the cell.

Catie had demanded that the two guards hold Clarence Carson so that she could put him down. One of them had laughed, thinking that she might actually be joking. She ended that notion when she grabbed the young man in a wristlock and slammed him against the wall. She told him he could either help, or she would break his wrist and then make him do it anyway. Only, with an injured wrist, it might be possible that Mr. Carson would get loose or perhaps land a few good licks.

There had been no further argument after that display. The two men had opened the cell door. Oddly enough, Clarence Carson did not put up a fight. He stepped forward and looked Catie in the eyes as she held the spike in her left hand. She asked him if he had anything he wanted passed along to anybody in particular.

The man looked at her in open disbelief. Something harsh came to his lips, but he bit it back. His eyes changed just a little, going softer. It was not anything to do with the tracers; no, his glare retreated, and there was actually something warm and human in them for a moment. It was in that instant that Catie had to brace herself for what she was about to do. It was also then that she was hit with the largest wave of doubt that she’d had so far in regards to if she was on the side of good.

“There ain’t no more good and bad,” Kevin had said one night when they talked about some of the things that they had seen, done, or said. “Now it is all about the shades of gray. You just have to choose how black you will allow your gray to become.”

“I have a son back at Montague. His name is Kelly. If you guys go in there and you are able to find him, don’t let him do anything stupid. Tell him that I want him to at least find out. And if he is one of you people, try to make sure that he does right.”

Clarence said all of that while he looked directly into Catie’s eyes. Then he glanced down at the spike and back to her. He gave a nod and stared straight ahead. When she brought the weapon up, the man had one last thing to add. “We ain’t so different, you and I. And of all these punks that I have met since being brought here, you got more balls than any of ‘em.”

It took all of her effort to finish, but Catie drew her hand back and then plunged the long, thin metal spike into the temple of Clarence Carson. The man went rigid for a moment, and then he began to shudder violently as his brain apparently fired off one final barrage of information to the body. At last, Clarence’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped, going completely limp. Neither guard seemed prepared for the sudden amount of dead weight that they were holding and had to struggle to keep from dropping the corpse.

Catie turned and went back up the hall. She waited for the two young men to join her. Now she would see what came next. Maybe she would talk to Elliot first. She wanted to be the one to tell him that Clarence was, in fact, dead. She also wanted to warn him to never put her in a position like that again. But that was one option, and not likely the direction she was headed.

“I’ve been here three years,” a voice said, snapping Catie out of her ruminations.

“What?” She turned to see both men standing a few feet away.

“I said I have been here three years,” the man with the skin problems spoke after clearing his throat.

“You act like that is the first time you have been around death,” Catie said as she folded her arms across her chest and leveled her best military inspection gaze at the young man.

“No, ma’am…err…well…” the kid stammered and stumbled, his face turning a bright and very embarrassed red.

“First time around a living person dying?” Catie amended.

The young man said nothing. He simply stared at the ground. His head might have given the slightest of nods in affirmation.

“That bother you back there?” Catie stepped close to the man and hid a smile when the other guard actually stepped a few paces back.

Once again she did not receive a verbal confirmation. However, at least his head bobbed a bit more perceptibly this time. Catie put a curled index finger under the young man’s chin and tilted his head up so that his eyes were no longer glued to the ground.

“Good. It should always be a struggle to take the life of a living person. If that ever becomes too easy, then you might want to consider the possibility that the next life that needs taking is your own.” She saw his eyes widen and his mouth opened, but Catie fixed him with her own look that was equal parts compassion and command. “Killing is not something you should ever take lightly. So if you feel bad right now, that’s okay.”

“Do you feel bad?” the fresh faced guard asked.

“Jeez, Trevor, what do you think?” the other scolded.

“Let her answer, Jimmy.”

Catie eyed the two young men for a moment. She took a deep breath and then searched herself for the truth. That was the problem; in the past couple of days, her truth had shifted. She was still trying to pin it down.

“I feel bad that I had to take a life.” She once more fixed first one of the young men and then the other with her gaze, trying her best to ensure that she got her point across. “But killing Clarence was a mercy. He would have suffered otherwise. There was no need for him to endure that slow change.

“Also, Clarence is a soldier in this new world. Soldiers die. That has been the truth for an eternity. That does not mean we don’t mourn their loss, but it is something that they face each day knowing of the possibility that it may be their last. In the Old World, I think too many people forgot that simple truth.”

Catie recalled a few times right after all of that terrible madness of September 11, 2001 before she had enlisted; she recalled an instance in particular when she saw a man in uniform get off the bus as it stopped in her town on its journey to wherever. People started clapping. Sadly, that sentiment of appreciation faded just like anything else. But until the day she had signed those papers for herself, she always made it point if she crossed paths with one of the men or women in uniform to walk right up to them and say “thank you.”

“Now, I want both of you to go find something to wrap the body in so it can be disposed of properly,” Catie said with a sigh that was partially coming off the adrenaline of the situation and partially from a deep fatigue that threatened to never release its hold on her soul.

Catie turned and made her way outside. She reached the street and decided to take a walk around before returning to Elliot. Eventually she passed a massive building that showed signs of a great deal of life. Despite most of the exterior sign having fallen off over the years, she still recognized the remnants of a Marriott logo. Unlike the other buildings, this one looked like the bottom three floors had been cleared. None of the windows remained on those levels. Armed individuals could be seen roaming the length of the open floors. One actually waved at Catie as she stood looking up at the building. A large section of the sidewalk in front of the building was heavily stained as if perhaps some great battle had taken place.

“Thinking about staking your own quarters?” a voice said from behind her.

Catie had mixed feelings about not immediately reaching for her weapon. She had let some of her guard down; or perhaps it was an effect of being tired and a shade wrung out. Still, she turned to face the owner of the voice.

“What are you doing out here, Marty?” Catie asked.

“Melvin is more of a book guy than I am. He was walking around in a daze with drool coming out of his mouth as he roamed the aisles at the library,” the big man said with an easy smile. “Just passed one of the boys that you traumatized and he said that you headed this way.”

“There are some surprisingly naïve people here for as open as this place is.” Catie turned back to the hotel-turned-housing complex. “For all their freedom, they are very isolated from what is out there.”

“Maybe they prefer to kill zombies. Maybe they are not the boogeymen that Dean has been preaching.”

“That is fine until you consider the kidnappings.”

“How do you figure?”

“They are snatching kids from their families,” Catie pointed out the obvious.

“I hear that some of those kidnappings have been arranged. There were a lot of parents not happy with things at Montague. They wanted their kids to have a shot at a better life. Pretty normal stuff if you ask me.”

“Are you telling me that these kidnappings are simple relocations?” Catie turned back to the large man and planted her hands on her hips.

“Not all of them,” Marty said with a shake of his head, “but well over half. And where do you think they are getting their information?”

Catie opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. That fact had never once raised itself as a question in her mind. She had assumed that it might be the bracers that the immune wore. Yet, even with markers to identify the immune, a kidnapping has to be targeted in advance for what was going on here.

“Okay,” Catie finally pushed that bit aside, “let’s say I give you that one. But here is my big question. You know what Elliot has planned for the people at Montague, right?” Marty nodded. “And are you okay with that? We would be killing innocent women and children.”

“And do you think that they will just line up voluntarily and take the shot?”

“So we infect people on purpose? You can paint it with any pretty color you like, but genocide is still genocide. We would be exterminating people for no other reason than they are not like us.”

“Or we can live under their heel? This takes the ‘what if’ out of the question. The more we can get on our side, the more people we have in place to stand against these communities that hunt us down, the ones that would just as easily kill us without any of the debate that you and I are having.”

“And that makes them the bad guys? Will we ever be able to call ourselves good or righteous after we commit this act?” Catie had to struggle to keep the tears at bay. Her emotions were all bubbling to the surface again.

“You have been alive too long to think that way,” Marty muttered with obvious discomfort; whether it was the topic or the fact that he could see Catie’s emotions seething just below the surface, she didn’t know. “It is as simple as survival. I’m glad that you are struggling with this. That sort of brings me to my next point.”

Catie had to sniff hard to continue holding back the tears. She looked up at Marty and saw something now in his eyes that suddenly helped her regain her composure.

“What?” she asked once she cleared her throat and was confident in her ability to speak without her voice cracking or sounding strangled.

“Elliot is way too gung ho for this. He wants to just hit these people and damn the consequences. He shows no reservation for what we are about to do.”

Catie let that hang between them for a moment. She actually looked around; almost like she was afraid that somebody might overhear them. Since the closest person was two stories above their heads and not paying them the slightest bit of attention as he or she walked the edge of the cleared out hotel floor, it was highly unlikely that anybody could discern anything they were saying.

Still, when she spoke, Catie made it a point to lower her voice and keep her lips from moving as much as she was able. “Just what exactly are you saying?”

“I am saying that he either needs to be neutralized or eliminated.” Marty’s eyes showed almost no emotion as he spoke. This was simple fact for him, and it was obvious. “If he won’t step aside willingly, then we kill him. You are the one who put this plan into motion. It is too late to change it now.”

“Wait!” Catie fought to keep from raising her hands for added emphasis. “We just got here. We are either guests or prisoners depending on how you look at it. There are a good number of people here. Do you really think we can just kill their leader and take over with nobody raising a fuss?”

“You were out for a while. I haven’t slept since we got here. I have walked around and seen these people for myself. Most of them are drones. They have either managed to escape being hunted and are just happy to be alive, or they are kids that have been snatched up. In any case, you saw it for yourself today. These people are not fighters. There is a core group of about ten that do all of the nasty work. We might have trouble with them, but other than that, this place is like a Hollywood set. If you look behind that curtain, you will see it is mostly smoke and mirrors. Why else do you think that they haven’t launched an actual assault on Montague? They don’t have the manpower. This place is built for defense.”

Catie looked around. She readjusted her appraisal of this area. She had absolutely noticed that this place was big on holding a defensible position; but until this moment, she had not considered that it might be simply because they were not combat ready. Seriously, this far into the zombie apocalypse she just did not see how any culture could survive without having a certain degree of warlike ability.