Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive (4 page)

P
aul leaned back in
the chair and stretched his arms out, cracking his back and releasing an eye
watering yawn. It was full dark outside and his eyelids were heavy as hell.
They’d been at this for over an hour now with no success. “Jesus!” he said,
throwing an empty water bottle across the room. “So that’s it? Everyone out
there is dead? There’s no one left?”

Calvin shrugged
his bony shoulders. “Not everyone has access to a radio.”

“No, but someone
higher up should. Someone in the military or FEMA or some hardcore prepper.
Fucking somebody!”

“Yeah, you’d think
some of them were locked in bunkers with old radios like these.” Calvin
scratched his head, studying the ancient artifact. “But I’m telling you, man,
we haven’t heard a peep.”

“Fucking shit.”
Paul massaged his face with both hands and yanked them away. “So this it? This
is as good as it gets? Locked in some military base with stragglers crawling all
over the place? Well, lucky fucking us!”

Calvin shared a
frown with the others. “
Stragglers
?” He
chuckled a little. “I think bees sounds way cooler.”

Paul jumped up,
sliding his chair back and balling Calvin’s coat into his fists. He slammed him
up against a wall, rattling a framed picture of the president. “Is this a
fucking joke to you?”

The smile slid
down his face and landed around his hipster boots. “No, I just…”

“Leave him alone,”
Maria shouted, pushing past Wendy, who grabbed her by the arms and held her
back.

Paul spun away from
Calvin and caught a worried look from Stephanie that made him cringe. Shame
washed over him like a December rain, making him shrink into his leather
jacket. Inhaling a calming breath, he wiped a cobweb from his face and avoided
Maria’s pointed glare. Sometimes he barely knew who he was anymore. Like when
he shot Marvin in the head back at the Jacobsen house. Like when he buried his
wife in a state she’d never been to before and then just left her to rot under
a weeping willow. He was a glorified DJ who liked to mow the yard and grill on
the weekends.

Wasn’t he?

Maria shook Wendy
off and stepped in Paul’s face. “Oh, let me guess,” she said, planting her
hands on her curvy hips. “You’re the only one who lost somebody out there.
You’re the only special little snowflake reeling in pain!”

Meeting her
piercing gaze, his blood boiled. She had no fucking idea.

“Well, we lost
people too,
Paul
!” Tears spilled from
the corners of her eyes and ran over the apples on her cheeks, leaving tracks
that glistened beneath the buzzing lights. “I lost everyone I know! Everyone!”

Sighing, Paul nodded
weakly. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, dropping onto a couch against the wall and
stirring up a cloud of dust.

Stephanie waved a
hand in front of her and scooted over to give him more room. “Don’t worry,
we’ll find someone,” she whispered, looking to Calvin and Maria. “Like we found
them.”

Rebecca crossed
the room and sat on the other side of Paul, wrapping her coat tighter around
her and flushing his side with heat.

“Look, I’m sorry
but,” Maria said, pausing to lower her eyes to the high-top silver Converse on
her feet, “but there’s no one left. No one who can help us anyway.”

Calvin pulled her
against his side and thumbed behind him. “Maybe we should get to the cafeteria
and call it night. The doors lock and there’s plenty of food.”

“And heat,” Maria
added, staring at the radio through distant eyes as if she’d missed a switch
somewhere along the line that was preventing them from making contact. Something
so obvious it was right under the tip of her nose.

“How far?”

“Few buildings
over. It’s not far.”

Paul’s eyes swept
over the dim lights on the ham radio, a low buzzing coming through the speakers
on the channel they last tried. He willed a voice to emerge from the dull drone.
Somebody who could get them out of this mess alive. Somebody with a way to
reverse things. Someone who could bring her back. Sinking into the couch, he
shut his eyes and winced with the stabbing pain puncturing his heart. He didn’t
grab a single picture from his house and now they were gone forever. Ashes to
ashes. Dust to dust. Just like Sophia. Sensing his distress, Rebecca set a soft
hand on his leg so he got up and started pacing the long narrow room. White
ghosts of breath slipped from his lips. His stomach rumbled. He stopped pacing,
realizing everyone was staring at him again like he had all the fucking
answers. Like he knew what to do next when it was so goddamn obvious he wanted
to scream it from the motherfucking rooftops.
This
was next. This! Right here behind this security fence. Forever.
Tomorrow they would have to start clearing buildings and kicking bushes and once
this entire base was clear of corpses, this would become their new home.

This was next.

The end.

Do not pass go.

Do not collect
$200.

“How’s the armory
look?” he asked, afraid to even know the answer.

“It’s pretty cleaned
out,” Maria replied, confirming his sneaking suspicions. “There’s some stuff
left but most of the people who checked out weapons never came back. And the
few that stayed behind to man the computers and communication networks got the
virus and turned.”

His forehead
crumpled. “How’d they get the virus?”

She toyed with the
small diamond on her left ring finger. “Some of them just got sick out of the
blue, and some came back with bites. At that point, we had no clue what would
happen next or we never would’ve let them back inside the base.”

Calvin grunted. “I
got attacked on the fucking toilet.” He blew oily bangs from his eyes. “Luckily,
I always carry. Even in the old world.”

“I hear that,”
Billy said. “Some dangerous-ass people out there.”

“Takes one to know
one,” Curtis murmured.

Paul stared at
Calvin, gaze contracting. “But
you
didn’t turn. Why not?”

He shrugged.
“Blind luck.”

Pressing his lips
together, Paul eyed them over to the static softly hissing from the radio. “Did
you get flu shots this past season?”

They shook their
heads, eyebrows drawing together.

“Wait, you think flu
shots did this?” Calvin tried to stop a laugh that might trigger Paul to slam
him up against the wall again but couldn’t do it. “That’d be pretty messed up
if that were true. Can you imagine? Going to the doctor to die.”

Wendy tilted her
head to one side. “How’d you get here if you’re not in the guard?”

Calvin exhaled. “Maria
was pulling a weekend shift and I came here as soon as it started.” He jerked a
sharp chin over his shoulder. “We don’t live too far away and it didn’t take a
rocket surgeon to realize things were going to get bad. Real bad.”

“Rocket
scientist.”

Calvin frowned at
Curtis. “What’d I say?”

“Okay, let’s get
to the cafeteria and we’ll try the radio again tomorrow. I’m beat.” Paul let another
long yawn slip out and picked up the M4 which now weighed a hundred pounds in his
hands. His legs dragged and his shoulders slumped. He felt like one of those
things out there, dead on his feet. This was his Achilles heel. He needed sleep
and the corpses didn’t.

Rounding up their
gear, they headed for the door, stopping only for the faint voice crackling
through the speakers. Paul’s heart jumped. The hair went up on his arms. Everyone
slowly turned to the radio at the back of the room, which seemed to stretch
like a tunnel. The lights flickered and, for a fleeting moment, Paul was
certain the generator would go out right when they needed it the most because
isn’t that just the way shit goes sometimes?

Pushing past the
others, he rushed across the room and snatched up the mic, pressing the button
on the base of the stand so hard the plastic creaked beneath his thumb. “Hello?
Can you hear me?”

They traded
anxious glances in the painful silence that followed, pulse thumping in their
necks and a mixture of hope and fear mingling in their eyes. Turning up the
volume, he tried again and waited with bated breath. When no one responded he
swore and nearly threw the mic against a map of Iowa tacked to the wall.

“I can hear you,”
a voice whispered from the
speakers.
“Can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Paul’s
heart boomed in his chest. His breath raced even faster, eyes ravaging the
radio like maybe he could, somehow, get a glimpse of the person on the other
end. “Where are you?”

“A cabin in Leadville, Colorado,”
the man softly
replied, bringing a puzzled look to everyone’s face.
“We’re out of ammunition and those things have us surrounded, which is
why I’m whispering. We need help and we need it quick.”

Paul looked at the
others, all of whom had turned to stone behind him. He pressed the mic key with
an audible click. “Leadville? Isn’t that near Copper Mountain?”

“It is. About a half hour down the pass on a clear
day.”

“What’s your
name?”

“Brian McCrae.”

“Brian, I’m Paul.”
Static broke in and he wasn’t sure if Brian heard him or not.

“Good to hear your voice, Paul. I was afraid no one
was left out there. Where are you?”

“We’re at a
National Guard base in Des Moines, Iowa.” He released the button and could hear
the disappointment creep into Brian’s voice.

“Des Moines?”
He paused to turn something over in his
head.
“How far is that? Nine? Ten hours
away?”

“Twelve to the top
of the mountain if it’s clear. How many are with you?”

“My wife and six-year-old little girl, Lindsey. My younger
brother too.”
There was a flash of static and the name
Lindsey
sent a charge through Paul.
“We can’t get
to the snowmobiles, let alone the trucks and I don’t mind telling you, Paul,
I’m starting to get a little worried. There’s at least thirty corpses tromping
around in the snow up here. Probably more, hard to tell with the pines and
hills.”

“Give me your
exact location before we get cut off.”

Brian told him
where the cabin was located and Maria scribbled it down on a notebook lying on
the table. Pausing for a few seconds, Brian’s heavy breathing ebbed and flowed
from the radio as he held the mic button down, as if waiting for someone to get
out of earshot.
“And to add insult to
injury, we’re almost out of food and water as well.”

Calvin groaned and
pulled his hands through his dark hair, mussing the part on the side.

Paul turned to
Maria with the microphone stand gripped tightly in his fist, reading the
worried look in her dark brown eyes and then bringing the mic to his lips. “Is
the cabin safe?”

“It is for now.”
The older sounding man chuckled
softly.
“We’ve got it boarded up tight
and it’ll probably last longer than we do. I won’t lie, this isn’t looking good.”

“We’re going to
come get you,” he replied, making Curtis throw his hands out in exasperation.
“Leave your radio on and I’ll contact you at six a.m., Central Standard Time,
with our exact plan. We’ll leave at dawn and be there by dinnertime. I’ve been
to Copper Mountain a few times and we will get you out of there. I promise.”

“How many are in your group?”

Paul’s narrow gaze
roamed the room, counting the nervous pairs of eyes staring back. “Eight,” he
said, not knowing if Maria and Calvin were part of the group or not and not
caring. He was going with or without them. Any of them.

Brian sighed and
Paul couldn’t tell if it sounded dejected or relieved.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Paul. It means the
world to all of us and it is moments like this that separate us from them.
Thank you.”

“Just sit tight
and try to keep everyone calm and quiet. I know that’s easier said than done,
Brian, but you and your family will get through this if you keep your heads.”

A long sigh
stormed the speakers.
“There’s one more
thing.”

“Yeah?”

“The weather man isn’t around anymore but if it snows,
there’s no one to clear the pass, so if that happens…”

“It’s March and if
it snows it’ll melt quickly. We will make it.”

A pregnant pause bulged
the line and then Brian broke through in a faint voice.
“Thank you, Paul. And may the Good Lord bless each and every one of
you.”

L
eaning back into a
hard plastic chair, Paul forced himself to take another bite of some cheese
that smelled like feet. The mess hall’s generator was enough to keep the fridge
running but not the walk-in coolers and it wouldn’t take long for everything
inside to spoil, electricity or not. Watching the others trade whispers and
murmurs across the long room, he sat alone at a large round table, trying not
to look at the outlet in the wall next to him. Trying not to feel Billy’s cellphone
in his pocket. Trying not to imagine what might be on there. There had to be a
reason the police bagged it and tagged it and Paul was dying to find out what
that reason was. Billy glanced at him from across the room and Paul pushed it
from his mind, going over the plan again instead. Chewing slowly, he drummed
his fingers against the big round table that reminded him of the car dealer showroom.

The plan was
simple. Get all the guns and ammo from the armory they could squeeze into the
Suburban, including the six people they also had to stuff inside. Eight if
Maria and Calvin were up for the challenge, and Paul hoped they were. They
needed an army and he would build it one person at a time. Unfortunately,
according to Maria, the only Guard trucks left behind had open beds covered by flimsy
tarps.

No heat.

No protection.

No gas mileage.

The others talked
and ate at a candlelit table across the cafeteria, the candles cloaking their
faces in jumping shadows, making them look sinister and alien. Letting his mind
go blank, he stopped thinking for a minute because he would need to get some
sleep before hitting the open road at dawn, but he couldn’t help but wonder if
this was the right move. They were relatively safe here and once they cleared
the base of stragglers – assuming the fence continued to hold – they could
recharge their batteries for a bit before setting out halfway across the
country on some suicide mission to save a snowbound family trapped inside their
cabin. The six-year-old little girl named Lindsey flickered through his mind
and grief was quick to follow, stabbing an invisible icepick through his heart
when he thought about the last two children he tried to save. He could still
see the blood shooting from Mike as a mechanic tore him apart like an old Buick.
Could still hear Carla’s screams over the gunfire and death moans while an old
lady ripped into Matt’s neck.

“I can’t believe that
two months ago I was repping Metallica and now I’m on the run from the living
dead.”

 
His eyes slid to Rebecca without moving his
head. He didn’t even notice her sit down and he could still remember her warm hand
in his lap when Sophia was out of town. The whole thing was so messed up he
barely stifled a laugh. He screwed up big time and now God was bringing down
the thunder. This is what he gets for being a selfish little prick – locked in
a mess hall with Rebecca while his wife lay buried under a tree. Biting into a
cracker that dried his mouth out, his swollen eyes gravitated back to the
outlet in the wall next to him.

“I bet my parents
are dead, my sisters and brothers too.” Rebecca snorted, staring at a water
bottle on the table through faraway eyes. “All my nieces and nephews and
friends.” She turned to him, her face smeared with dirt and tears. “They’re all
dead, aren’t they?”

He pounded some
water and swallowed with a sigh, the photo albums scattered about the guest bed
scratching his mind. He should have grabbed them and goddamn Rebecca for being
the last person to page through them. “Yep.”

Dropping her head,
teardrops sprinkled her lap. “We’ll never make it to Colorado in time, will
we?”

The plug pulled at
his gaze and he wondered if it still worked like some of the lights and the fridge
did. “We’ll make it,” he replied, wishing she’d buzz off and give him two
minutes to think. Jesus Christ.

Wendy stopped by
and pulled out the chair on the other side of him, further stirring his
aggravation. Couldn’t they see he wanted to be alone? What didn’t they get
about that? She waited to speak until his droopy eyes found her big blues.
“Lindsey?” she said, crossing her arms.

He stared back,
void of expression, too tired to even ask.

“The little girl’s
name is the same as the little girl in Brock’s driveway. The dead one riding a
bike.”

He barely lifted a
shoulder to an ear. “So?”

Rebecca’s glassy eyes
bounced between them, eyebrows dipping.

“So it means
something, Paul. It’s a message.”

“From who?”

Wendy pursed her
lips. “You know who.”

“No, actually I
don’t.”

She glanced at
Rebecca. “Sophia or Dan.”

He laughed.

“Wait.” Rebecca
sat up straighter in the hard plastic chair. “There was a dead girl riding a
bike?”

“Well,” Wendy said,
“it had training wheels but still.”

Rebecca grew
quiet, eyes gravitating back to the water bottle in front of her and straying
from focus yet again.

“It’s not a
message.”

“I saw Dan too,
Paul.” Wendy filled her lungs, lifting the breasts peeking from a tight V-neck.
A teardrop spilled over her cheek. “There is something more to the eye going on
around here and that family in Colorado is where we’re supposed to go next.”

“Okay, hold on.”
Rebecca scooted her chair closer to the table. “Dan was your friend who died on
your way to the Gulf, right?” When no one answered, she kept digging. “And both
of you saw him inside that movie theater?”

“You didn’t?”
Wendy said smugly, twirling a lock of honey-colored hair around a finger.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I did.” Curtis stopped
at the table and looked down at Paul. “So how come we can see the people you
lost but not the ones we lost?”

Paul’s eyes
tickled the outlet in the wall again and he wished everyone would just go to
sleep. He turned to Curtis who was standing with his wiry arms folded across a
sleeveless
Star Wars
t-shirt. “I have
no idea Curtis. Probably because we’re all suffering from PTSD or CTE and we’re
all hallucinating. Who knows why any of this is happening? I still think I was
in a car accident and I’m in a coma right now.”

“Oh my God, I’ve
thought that a hundred times since this whole thing started.” Stephanie pulled
a chair back, legs scraping loudly against the white tiles, and sat down across
from Paul. “I mean, dead people walking the streets? It’s impossible.”

“Fuck that, Steph.
I’m talking about seeing his dead friend Dan.”

“You can just call
him
Dan
,” Paul grumbled, drinking
some more water to keep from calling Curtis an asshole.

Resting his hands
on his hips, his eyes thinned into thoughtful slits. “And what gets me the most
is that, not only did I see your dead friend Dan, but he showed us the right fucking
way to go.”

Stephanie sucked
on a fruit box. “I can’t believe that either.”

“Wait.” Rebecca’s
brow folded. “You saw him too?”

Stephanie nodded
as Billy pulled a chair out. “I saw him too,” he said, plopping down with a
grunt. “Almost shot him.”

“Okay.” Rebecca
cleared her throat. “So I’m the only one who didn’t see this...”

“Ghost,” Curtis
finished for her, studying Paul.

“This is so insane.”
Wendy ran her fingers through her long locks before shaking it out. “Like the
walking dead aren’t crazy enough.”

“And you said it’s
happened before.”

Wendy’s jaw
dropped. She turned to Curtis with a scowl bending her forehead. “I never saw
Dan like that before!”

He stepped closer.
“No, but you said Paul has seen dead people before. Like that Cora lady and her
husband.” His gaze swung to Paul and thinned. “So what’re we supposed to think
here, Paul? That the dead are helping you survive against all odds? That you’re
the
chosen one
who’s going to lead
this country back from the grave?”

“Lower your voice,
Curtis,” Stephanie said in a warning tone.

Paul rubbed his
face. “You know what, Curtis? I don’t really care what you think. I just want
to get some sleep. Is that okay with you?” His eyes caressed the mattresses and
blankets calling his name from the other side of the room. “We have a long day
ahead of us tomorrow and need some rest. Tired people make tired mistakes.”

“Maybe I should
wash your feet first, your highness.”

“Curtis,”
Stephanie moaned. “Stop being such a dick.”

“I’m not being a
dick! I’m just…trying to figure this shit out because it’s very fucking weird!”

“I’ll tell you
what’s weird, man.” Billy looked around and lowered his voice. “All the candles
and weed in the bathroom. Shit burnt the hell out of my lungs too.”

Maria got up from
the table across the room and came over with her husband in tow. “It’s not
weed; it’s sage.”

Calvin let out an
uneasy laugh. “I wish it was weed. I sleep so much better when I’m stoned.”

Wendy pulled a joint
from a pack of smokes and handed it to him, widening the eyes behind his
glasses.

“Holy shit, you
are a Goddess! Thank you.”

“So what’s that
stuff all about?”

Maria folded her
arms across her chest like she had something to hide. “I was doing a séance and
needed the mirror. The one in the women’s restroom is broken,” she replied as
if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Séance?” Billy
laughed sharply. “For what?”

Her eyes lowered
to the silver high-tops on her feet before slowly rising to meet Paul’s spellbound
gaze. “To contact the dead.”

A frown carved
through his brow. “Why?” he asked.

“To find out why
this is happening and what we can do to stop it.”

Billy leaned back
in the chair. “Yeah? And what’d you find out, Madam Ruby?”

Her eyes hovered
on Paul while she considered something in her mind. “Nothing. Yet.”

“So what’s the
mirror for?” Stephanie asked, crossing her legs and swinging a combat boot
through the air.

“To see them.”

“
Them
?” Curtis stopped his pacing.
“Haven’t you seen enough dead people out there yet, lady?”

“It’s not the
same.” Her gaze flicked to one of the windows she and her husband covered with
cardboard weeks ago. “Those things out there can’t tell us much, but the ones
in the spirit world are a different story.”

Calvin exhaled a
stream of thick smoke, pinching the joint between his fingers and fighting back
a cough. “You just have to make sure you don’t get the wrong spirit or you
won’t live long enough to regret it.” He passed the joint to Billy. “But when
we find the right one, they might know something.”

Paul scooted his
chair back and rested an ankle on his knee. “How?”

“There’s a thin
veil between the living and the dead. One of them will know something.”
Releasing a tired sigh, Maria straightened her long sleeve thermal. “Unless you
have a better idea.”

Billy coughed out
a plume of skunky smelling smoke. “Yeah, I got a better idea, man. Why don’t we
call the Ghost Busters and give them a crack,” he said with a drawn out laugh,
passing the joint to Stephanie who waved him off. “Spirit world,” he breathed.
“She-it.”

“Right?” Curtis
took the spleef from him and brought it to his lips.

“No, man, it’s a
real thing.” Calvin pushed his glasses up and turned to Paul. “Have you
experimented with necromancy before or something?”

“Necro…? No, I
haven’t.”

He turned to his
wife. “If the dead are reaching out to him, maybe he should try it.”

“That’s a good
idea,” she smiled.

“No, that’s a bad
idea. But you know what is a good idea? Getting some sleep so we can go rescue a
family of four two states away tomorrow morning.”

“Some people are
more psychic than others.” Maria tapped a finger against her lips and studied
Paul, pinching her gaze. “Something in their DNA or family history that
predicates a smoother connection.”

Curtis snorted, puffing
smoke from his nose like a dragon. “Well shit, let’s find out. What kind of
beer am I thinking of right now, Paul?”

Exhaling, Paul
massaged his temples where a dull thud was coming and going in slow rolling intervals.
“I have no idea. Ice House?”

Curtis staggered
backwards like someone just slapped him across the face, amazement welling in
his eyes. “Oh. My. God!”

“Okay,” Paul said,
pushing off the table and getting up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Then we do it in
the morning.”

He turned to Maria,
hands curling into tight balls. “Do
what
in the morning?”

“A séance.”