DEAD: Reborn (15 page)

This most recent situation would al
low him to at least justify to himself that he would no longer technically be lying. If April died now, that would solve a lot of his problems.

He watched April break free from a few and shove another aside as she continued to try desperately to get to the woods and that steep incline. The thing about that hill
in her favor was the fact that deaders would really struggle to continue to follow her. It might as well be a fifty foot high wall. However, what would she find once she reached the top? Was she jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire?

He had no doubt that the mob that had followed them would be greatly
disbursed. If any remained that had not pursued them down that hill, they could have wandered off by now, or…they could be standing around waiting for the next meal to arrive.

Juan saw April vanish into the woods. He thought he saw her look back at him one more time. He stood there another few seconds watching several walkers vanish into the brush on her heels.

Juan headed down to the flat open space in front of the warehouses. To the left lay the water, the boat, and home. To the right…the beat up truck that he had used to bring all of the supplies…and then April after that ugly situation with Kip and Vin.

***

“Take her!” Kyle thrust his sister into her husband’s arms. He glanced and saw Xander sleeping peacefully in the hammock he had rigged. Glenn took his wife and clutched her to his chest.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Mel demanded, standing in the middle of the doorway. Her short blond hair was matted to her head and her face was smeared with blood and just a little dirt; that made her hazel eyes stand out all the more.

“Did you hear that?” Kyle placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and looked down at her. Mel was by no means a short woman at five feet and eight inches tall, but Kyle still towered over her…not that she was in least bit intimidated.

“Yes, and it sounded like there would be no reason for you to go risking yourself to check it out.” Mel crossed her arms and planted her feet. She had no intention of stepping aside.

“That person might still be alive,” he argued.

“
Might
is no longer a valid reason…I believe those were your words a few months ago.”

Kyle scowled; he knew very well the situation she was r
eferring to and he also knew that he had no way to win this disagreement…until another scream sounded from even closer.

“Please! Help!” a woman’s voice cried.

Kyle met his wife’s stare now with a bit more confidence. While he was by no means under her thumb, he defied any man who sought a happy marriage to say that he was truly in charge. And when it came to Mel, he was happy if it was a sixty-forty split. Thankfully, she stepped aside.

“Okay, I need you to keep those zombies focused on you while I head down the rope bridge to the other house. I will be going down and coming back up from there…so, just do your thing.” Kyle patted his wife on the arm and smiled.

She might not admit it, but she found therapy in this little exercise. They used it lots of times over the past several months when the need arose.

As Kyle slipped around the back side of the circular tre
ehouse he could hear Mel already starting. She always amazed him in these moments. Before the zombies, it had been Saturdays when they attended all the Stanford football home games. The first time they went, he was stunned when that first burst of profanity that would have embarrassed a longshoreman spewed from her mouth.

What impressed him even more was that she was complet
ely unapologetic. She only offered one explanation.

“Sports
Tourette’s,” she said with a shrug when she looked over to see him staring with his mouth agape. “Football is a religion in my house. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” he’d said with
a shrug.

“Good, because if you are over for Thanksgiving…well, there are about thirty of us around the television at first kickoff. There is beer before noon and a considerable amount of ga
mbling…only half involve actual cash.” Mel had gone back to watching the game and he was never certain, but he thought she had flashed him a dirty look for having missed two plays during her time speaking to him.

“…the matter, you seeping meat sack? Bet you’d love to take a nibble on this, wouldn’t you?” Her voice carried to his ears long a
fter he had reached the other treehouse and climbed down.

Kyle ran in a crouch down the length of a tall stone wall that was made to look like it was part of the natural landscape with its dark ba
salt. As he reached the end and the opening that would be Easy Street, he took a deep breath and risked a look over the top of the wall. His eyes widened at what he saw.

A woman was on the ground. She was on her back and tr
ying to keep the zombie on top of her from getting a bite out of her face, but it was clear that she’d already been bitten at least once. In her left hand, she had what looked like one of those swords he had seen in Samurai movies. Her right arm was a mess and slicked with blood. The wound was visible even from this distance. A huge chunk was missing just below the elbow.

If that was all he saw, it would have been bothersome, but the reality was that he had almost become numb to these sorts of scenes having witnessed a hundred or so with his own two eyes. No…it was the handful of child zombies gathered around the scene in almost a semi-circle. They were just watching. They all looked to be swaying back and forth a bit, but none were trying to get any closer
.

What happened next would haunt his nightmares for a while. The sword fell from her grip and landed with a clatter on the street. It was as if a dinner bell had been rung. The children swarmed and began to tear into the woman. He knew enough to know that she was a goner. He was about to turn and run when another woman sprinted into view. She scooped up the sword and began swinging like someone possessed.

Kyle took just a second to get a look at her in action. She was short, maybe just over—or under—five feet. Her jet black hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore what looked like a studded leather jumpsuit. She had spiked gloves and mirrored goggles. Just before he went to offer his help—which it did not actually look like she needed—he saw her bounce to one side and come around with a roundhouse kick that shattered the skull of the nearby seven- or eight-year-old child zombie.

“You just going to stand there…or are you going to help?” the woman asked, pausing just long enough to stare directly at him. If not for the mirrored goggles, he was sure that her eyes would be boring into him.

Kyle rushed into the fray and started taking down zombies. He always hated having to put down the little ones. It did not seem right, and up until a couple of them had almost gotten Mel one night during a foraging trip in a massive apartment complex outside of Denver, he had managed to avoid it. That was when it hit him hard that these things had nothing in common with people. They were monsters…pure and simple.

When they put down the last one, the stranger walked over to the woman on the ground and knelt. He was not close enough to hear, but he saw the one on the ground shake her head weakly. Blood came in a frothy gout as she choked. The other woman stood and, in a flash, drove her blade through the eye socket of the poor doomed soul at her feet.

“My name is Ann,” the woman said as she wiped her blade clean on the shirt of the woman she’d just killed and then slid it into the black scabbard on her hip.

***

Chad climbed up on the back of the trailer and gave the lever a good yank; sure enough, just as with the others, the trailer was packed with boxes from bottom to top and front to back. The side of the trailer had no logo, so he looked at the box for any clue as to what might reside within. This one was a mixed blessing.

“Laundry detergent,” he called over his shoulder. “
At least these first boxes are liquid…that means they are going to be heavy. I say we take some and come back for more on the successive trips.”

It had quickly become clear that there would need to be se
veral runs if they chose to empty this place out. A few of the trucks had been busts. The ones carrying perishable food were now vomit inducing tombs of rot. The worst was the one trailer they had opened containing a variety of snack cakes. The myth about them lasting years due to being so pumped full of preservatives had been busted. The bugs that flooded out when the sunlight had intruded upon their sanctum had sent everybody running—man and woman.

The best part of the haul had been the Johnson and Johnson truck. From baby shampoo to Tylenol to female hygiene, the trailer was a gold mine. The Neosporin alone was worth its weight in gold. Infections could kill these days if left untreated.

“Why can’t we just hot wire the trucks or something?” Jerry had asked (Chad had finally learned the man’s name when he had been woken for his watch).

“For one, the fuel is probably bad. For another…how many of you can drive one? They are not just like the car you used to have parked in your driveway.”

“This is easily ten trips worth of stuff,” the man had said with a sigh as he ran his arm across his forehead.

The sun was out and doing its
best to erase any thoughts that a season like winter even existed. It would be one of those freakish days where the heat was at summer levels, then, in a day or two, it would go back to the mid-forties or fifties. Still, nothing could be done about the heat; they would just have to bite the bullet and get to work.

Chad called the group together and they discussed the pr
iority of what to take on the first trip. Just because this place had been left untouched this long did not mean it would stay that way. After every single case containing antibiotic cream and over-the-counter pain meds were loaded into the wagons, a variety of stuff followed.

By midday they were on the road back to the compound. It was as uneventful as the trip out. Chad almost felt a bit of disa
ppointment and chastised himself for being so foolish. In this new world, lack of activity was a blessing. The only danger at the moment came from the boredom; if everybody else was feeling it like he was, then they would be vulnerable simply because the level of vigilance was lower than it should be.

As the compound came into view up ahead, it was clear that something was wrong. The main gate was open and it looked like just about everybody was outside fanning out in an obvious search. C
had instantly felt his heart rate kick it up a notch. That was exacerbated when Scott Colson, one of the people that he had been in the company of almost since the beginning of this nightmare, came riding his way with Dustin.

“Where’
s Ronni?” he asked as soon as they were in earshot.

Scott turned and said something to Dustin, but they were too far away for Chad to hear anything. All he saw was Scott
speaking and Dustin nodding his approval or consent. When Dustin pulled back a bit and let Scott take the lead, Chad really began to panic. He felt his chest tighten and his mouth go dry. Whatever it was, it was bad, and it had something to do with Ronni.

“Ronni and a few kids are missing,” Scott said, quickly holding his hand up to stop the barrage of questions that he knew were coming on the heels of this announcement. “She volu
nteered to go with a group that were tasked with finding the missing children that disappeared shortly after lunch yesterday. When the search parties returned last night, her group was not there. The last anybody can recall seeing any of them was about an hour after they left here to join the search. About an hour before sunrise, somebody on the tower watch at the entrance swears they heard somebody calling for help. We have been out since before sunrise searching.”

Chad felt his eyes starting to burn. He dug at them with the palms of his hands for a second and tried to take a deep breath as if that would loosen the feeling in his chest. Dustin came up b
eside Scott with a look on his face that Chad could not quite read at first.

“I’m so sorry, Chad,” the big man mumbled. “I know that can do little to ease your pain, and I doubt you much care that a bunch of us are praying for her safe return…as well as that of the children that she was out there looking for.”

Chad turned to the man and felt the urge to yell at this person and hurl insults simply fade. He saw very real sorrow in the man’s eyes. Besides, blame would not help find his daughter and he seriously doubted that it would make him feel any better.

“I need a fresh horse,” Chad stated, making it clear that it was not really a request.

“Anything you need,” Dustin said with a nod. “And I will join you personally. We will find your daughter, my friend.”

Less than an hour later, the two men rode back out through the main gate. Several people followed them that far, wishing them well and telling them that they would keep not only Ronni, but them in their prayers as well.

Once clear of the last of the well-wishers, Chad put the heels to his horse and galloped in the direction his daughter was last seen. Dustin stayed with him the whole way, but it was almost as if the man were afraid to speak. This had Chad perplexed considering that, just based on the size disparity, he had no real desire to ever mix it up with the man. He began to wonder if perhaps there might be more to the story than he was being told.