DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn (31 page)

I was still standin
g there several minutes after the doc had ordered Darla to come inside where they could speak privately. I was basking in a glow that was nowhere near as warm as the rising sun from the words of somebody who I respected so very much. I never heard or noticed Katrina come outside.

“You in there?” She was snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Huh?” I shook my head. “Sure…what’s up?”

“Some guy is at the front door. He has a box that he says must be hand delivered to you.”

That was odd
, I thought. Not to mention the last time I’d had a box delivered to me personally. I was almost hesitant to go see what it was.

Still, I reasoned that it was unlikely to be another box of fingers. I went to the front door and accepted the large and very heavy parcel. Lugging it to the living room, I set it down on the great big coffee table and unceremoniously tore it open.

My eyes almost bugged out of my head at what I discovered.

“Holy crap!” I heard Katrina breathe from beside me.

Holy crap indeed.

16

Vignettes XLVIII

“
…and so I decided to come here,” Vix said as she and Amanda sat in a pair of lawn chairs that were perched on a platform that had been built into the roof of the cottage. She had given her the long and unedited version of everything that had happened since that first zombie in the hospital. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“
That is amazing,” Amanda finally said after a long pause. “I guess that puts our plan in the rubbish bin.”

“
What plan?”

“
We were actually considering making an attempt at reaching London,” Amanda said with a sigh. “Some of the girls were holding out hope that maybe there might be something left. If there was any serious resistance against these things, we just figured that it would be in London.”

Amanda handed a flask over to Vix who accepted it with a nod and a smile. She took the last swallow of aged, single malt scotch and savored the slight burning as it traveled down her throat.

“So what about you?” Vix asked.

“
Not nearly as exciting,” Amanda let her head fall back against her chair as she closed her eyes. “The team was playing in an exhibition. This was my farewell tour so to speak. Thirty-five is old in this line of work. I was considering some offers to coach at a few schools and just enjoying one last go. We had a match scheduled here…well, actually in Harlow.”

There was a mo
ment of silence and Vix thought Amanda was finished. She was about to agree that her story was indeed quite dull. But then Amanda continued.

“
We thought that it was just a rowdy crowd. When things started going a bit crazy, we kept right on playing. And then one of those things fell over the rail and got up. It was horrible, blood all over its face and…stuff…dripping off it that shouldn’t be.

“
We made it to the bus, most of us that is. I ended up in the driver’s seat. We drove like crazy, those things seemed to suddenly be everywhere…”

Amanda continued with her story, but Vix was drifting in and out of consciousness. It was a sudden scream that jolted her awake, her eyes seeing almost nothing in the near perfect dar
kness of night. She was initially startled to find herself seemingly bound, but quickly realized that it was nothing more than a thick blanket that had been placed over her on the chair and tucked in snuggly.

Freeing herself and then f
eeling around, her hands discovered the chair beside her was vacant. Vix rose to her feet, her hands going instinctively for a weapon only to discover that she was not carrying any. She mentally cursed herself for being so careless.

She turned and found the window and climbed through. Vix could hear a terrible commotion coming from downstairs. Her hands closed on something; a guitar. That would have to do.

Moving to the stairs, she hugged the wall, all of her senses on full alert. For the hundredth time in the past thirty seconds, she cursed herself for being careless and letting her guard down.

“
…out of your mind!” a voice screamed.

A second later, the sound of a horrendous crash came, quickly followed by som
ething made of glass smashing into the wall just a few feet away from where Vix stood on the stairs.

Vix hurried the last few steps to see what looked like a r
ather unfair fight. Six of the women were holding Gemma who had blood trickling from her nose and the corner of her mouth. She was about to rush in and help when Harold stepped directly in front of her.

“
Gemma!” Harold snapped. “Listen to me…nothing was happening!”

“
You were practically naked!” Gemma spat.

“
She was putting ointment on some of my injuries. That is all there is to it,” Harold spoke softly but with a surprising degree of firmness. “Those bites, while not turning me because of whatever immunity I have, were still a little infected.”

Vix slid down to the floor and started to laugh. It took a few seconds before everybody in the room—Gemma included—was looking at her as if perhaps she was the one who had lost her mind.

“What in blazes do you find so funny?” one of the women finally asked. Judging by the welt over her eye, she was probably the individual that Gemma had attacked.

“
The bloody dead have come back and are wiping out humanity,” Vix managed between her fits of uncontrollable laughter. “But we are still fighting over the same ridiculous rubbish. Maybe we should see if
Trisha
is still around and have a sit down on the couch.”

There were a few titters; all except Gemma and the woman she had punched in the face. Eventually, everybody was
separated after repeated promises were made that there would be no more fighting. Vix retreated up the stairs, but only after she found her gear and brought it with her. Since they had not actually been given a proper bed yet, she returned to her chair on the roof.

There was still a slight chill in the air, but that thick co
mforter was enough to keep most of it at bay. She fell asleep with her sword in her lap.

The next time she was awakened, it was to Harold’s face uncomfortably close to hers. His eyes were red and his cheeks were tear-streaked.

“Gemma is gone.”

***

“Mackenzie?” the shadowy figure spoke.

Mackenzie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Keith!”

“
Is the big guy still alive?” Keith took a few steps down and his features began to show more clearly.

Mackenzie felt silly. If she had simply paid attention to the outline, she would have known right away that it was not April. Her wild mop of hair was a stark contrast to the
buzz cut that Keith kept.

“
Yeah, but he is out. She drugged him up with something.”

“
Well let’s take care of April first…as long as he is okay,” Keith added quickly.

“
He will be alright for a few.” Mackenzie swallowed hard before continuing. “Is April…is she…”

“
Dead?” Keith finished when it was clear that Mackenzie was not able to say the word. “No. She is gonna have a hell of a headache when she comes to…and somebody will probably have to look at her jaw.” He flexed and shook his left hand.

The two returned upstairs to the main floor and made their way to the living room. Sprawled on the floor, April was indeed out cold. Keith pulled out a set of handcuffs and rolled the wo
man onto her stomach, bringing her arms behind her and securing them.

“
Where did you get cuffs?” Mackenzie asked with raised eyebrows.

“
They are Cathy’s.” He began to secure her ankles with a six foot long piece of clothesline.

“
Cathy?” It took her a second. “Oh! The kid staying at your place?”

“
She’s twenty,” Keith said, refusing to rise to the bait. “Not that it is any of your concern. And her dad was a cop before you get any other ideas.”

“
Who’s getting ideas?”

“
I thought Jeannie Simons lived here with April,” Keith changed the subject.

“
She just moved in with some guy that she has been sort of getting cozy with,” Mackenzie said.

She was struck by how much she knew about each and ev
ery person who had joined their community, yet this entire situation with April had slipped past. Could she have been turning an intentional blind eye?

“
So…do we know what set this broad off on her journey to Crazy Town?” Keith said with a chuckle as he gave the knot one final tug to make sure it was secure.

“
She’s not crazy!” Mackenzie snapped with much more anger in her voice than she intended.

“
Whoa! Whoa!” Keith threw up his hands. “It was your boyfriend that she has all tied up in the basement.”

Tears began to trickle down Mackenzie’s face.

“I wasn’t meaning anything…” Keith’s voice trailed off and realization crept in. “She was like your mom…wasn’t she?”

Mackenzie stood there, shaking with silent sobs. Keith moved in to put his arms around her and struggled to do it in a way that did not feel awkward.

“She must have run out of her meds a while ago…which is probably why she was so intent on making those runs with Juan.”

“
But if she was like your mom…how could she have been a paramedic?” Keith asked.

“
How do we know that she was?” Mackenzie pointed out. “People can say whatever they want these days and there isn’t anybody around to contradict them.”

“
You have a point,” Keith agreed. “I mean, how many folks know about your boyfriend’s past. I have no idea what his beef was, but the man has done time…that is for certain.”

“
That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Mackenzie sniffed as she knelt beside the unconscious woman and brushed some of her hair out of her face there was a large bruise forming on the side of it.

“
But I’m not the newly elected president or whatever folks want to call it.”

“
I guess we have to rely on character these days.”

“
And look where that almost got Juan.”

“
Oh God!” Leaping to her feet. Mackenzie turned and rushed back down to the basement. Thankfully, Juan did not show any signs of having roused from whatever he had been injected with.

A few minutes later, Keith made his way down the stairs. His eyes only paused briefly on the array of stainless steel i
mplements that were obviously intended to put Juan through an incredible amount of pain.

“
I found a cart big enough to put Juan in,” Keith said as he came up beside where Mackenzie still stood over the unconscious man with tears running down her face. “I think it would help him a lot if he wakes up in his own bed.”

“
What are we going to do with April?”

The question hung in the air for several seconds. Keith did not have an answer; at least not one that would be very popular. Having grown up knowing Mackenzie and the issues that her mother Margaret dealt with, he knew at least somewhat how s
evere this problem could be.

It had been Margaret who shot him because his Uncle Jack had raped Mackenzie back when he and his two friends had first arrived on the island. Somewhere in her brain, she had made the connection between he and Jack Billings, his uncle—and not one that he even knew al
l that well—and that had been good enough in her mind. 

He had not asked about the details when he came to and Mackenzie had not o
ffered, but he didn’t need to know. And the funny thing was, he wasn’t even mad at Margaret when he eventually recovered; she was protecting her own. That was something he understood.

It was that mindset that told him the best way to handle this situation. The problem was that most everybody else here was already growing soft. They were starting to feel safe. They did not understand that the world as they knew it had changed dr
amatically and all of the rules were now out the window.

This was about survival.

***

Five weeks had gone by. They had indeed found a house that sat up on the hill just off a trail labeled ‘S Navajo Heights’ that gave them a surprisingly good view of much of the town of Moab. Surprising because
Glenn could not understand why—if somebody was actually running things—this piece of prime real estate was unoccupied.

Of course the place had been utterly emptied of anything that might have been of any value. None of the windows were intact, and the walls were covered with some fairly obscene gra
ffiti.

To the west, the little town of Moab lay below them; to their right was a small creek. The first night there, they had spotted no fewer than a dozen different light sources flickering from the town below. After discussing it, they came to the conclusion that it was very probable that there were multiple factions. Perhaps they had walked in to some sort of power struggle. That still did not explain why the mysterious woman (neither believed her name was Ann, and they had both agreed not to humanize her by giving her a real name) had taken Xander.

Slowly but surely, Cynthia healed from her injury; although there was a brief period where things took a bad turn as she seemed to develop some sort of infection. It had been touch and go for a few days, but she came out the other side.

Glenn was outside just as the sun was setting on what had been the hottest day so far. He had the general locations where they consistently saw light once it was dark and was
confident he had zeroed in on the one he was certain had to be that house where he had left Kyle and Mel. He never realized before just how difficult it was to actually find things in the darkness.