Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (10 page)

Before anyone had the chance to slice in another word, police sirens echoed from up the dark street. Red and blue lights flashed their way down the hill, and the patrol car swerved into the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dirt.
 

The robust Sheriff Ortiz approached with a hand on his pistol. His deputy exited the patrol car on the other side.
 

“Little too much partying tonight, boys?” The lanky deputy smiled as he masticated a piece of gum. He wiped a finger under his nose, grooming his orange mustache. “Ah, Mr. Kale, doing some drunk driving are we?”
 

Kale stumbled away from the truck, raising his hand. “Jimmy Miller?”
 

Sadie remembered Miller from high school. He’d always smelled...peculiar.
 

“It’s
Deputy
Miller to you.” He grabbed his handcuffs and jangled them. “Okay, everyone who has a sober driver, get out of here.”
 

That’s our cue.
 

Scot and Angela left in his SUV first. He gave Kelsey one last long look and she returned it. Then they were gone, hopefully forever.
 

Jerry got in his car, Kelsey in the passenger seat, and Sadie rolled down a back window to listen to the conversation outside.
 

“Sheriff,” Jeff started.
 

“If you have a ride, leave. If you don’t work here, leave.”
 

Jeff stepped back.
 

“Hey, Homer, come with us!” Sadie called from the backseat of the Sedan.
 

“Get going, kid,” Sheriff Ortiz demanded.
 

Jeff stared at Kale, at a loss. “We
will
leave as four.”
 

Kale was silent.
 

On the way to the car, Jeff quickly embraced Alec. “I’m sorry none of you believe me.”
 

“I’m sorry this reunion sucked,” said Alec quietly.
 

Jeff pulled away, grabbing Nicole’s hand.
 

“You never told me how you got that nickname, Homer,” she said, still smiling.
 

Jeff curled his upper lip in a semblance of a smile. “I hope one day I get to.” He turned his back to them and got in Jerry’s car.
 

What should I say to him?
She sneaked a glance at Jeff but he was staring out the window, consumed by the others, watching Kale and Howard as they were arrested.
 

After a few moments, their sedan left the parking lot, heading the same direction as Scot and his girlfriend.
 

Sadie felt sorry for Jeff. The reunion? Ruined. The group? Divided.
Jeff’s hurting. I can help.
Intending to comfort him, she told him the night couldn’t get any worse.
 

He didn’t respond, seemed so lost.
 

Figuring she should let him be, Sadie closed her eyes and sought guidance from the only entity she could really trust: the Dark Dragon.

EVANS

Get to the rendezvous point —
Lt. Sampson’s orders.
 

Evans would not fail at this, not like he’d done back when he was a part of the Marines.
All I had to do was follow one order, and I didn’t. We’d failed the mission because of me.
 

Never again, he promised himself.
 

Another bullet blasted from his Beretta M9 pistol. Corporal Longsong’s head twitched to the side, his brains scattering across dirt. Evans holstered his weapon.
 

“He said the rendezvous point is up the road. We collect supplies and we keep moving.”
 

“Okie dokie,” said Jennings.
 

They gathered ammunition and other supplies. Without time to mourn the loss of Faith, Felix, and Longsong, Evans swung his carbine around his back and motioned for Jennings to follow. They went back to the main road. Less cover, but the concrete surface allowed them to travel faster. Plus they didn’t want Lt. Sampson to miss them. And Evans knew Sampson had to be alive. If anyone could survive this, it was him. All Evans had to do was find him and receive his next orders.
 

The fog roiled and turned, becoming denser, visibility dwindled.
 

“Stay close and call out before you fire, got it?”
 

Jennings twirled around aimlessly in the thick fog. “I can’t see anything,” he griped.
 

“Stay close. I don’t need you shooting me in the back by accident.”
 

“Got it. Hey, did you realize both our names end with an S?”
 

Please tell me he didn’t just say that.
Then he felt it.

Jennings shrugged, obviously not feeling a thing. “What?”
 

Evans didn’t respond, kept still.
 

“Hey, it was an observation, man. Take it easy.”
 

Evans slammed his hand against Jennings’ mouth to silence the simpleton. “Listen.”
 

Jennings shrugged again. Removing his hand from Jennings’ mouth, Evans dropped to the concrete, pressed an ear against the smooth surface. Cold. Silent.

Jennings had never looked more confused. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Evans wanted to feel the vibrations, an indication of an incoming undead horde.
 

Nothing.
What had I felt before? Am I losing it?
Evans rose, glanced at Jennings. “Never mind.”
 

Jennings rubbed his nose. “Can you like, talk to roads?”
 

He almost laughed at the ludicrous statement, but his eyes broke wide in alarm, and he yelled at Jennings to run.
 

A stampede of footsteps slammed out from the fog. Decayed moans ravaged their ears, salivating for their flesh.
 

Evans sprinted a few yards before realizing he ran alone.
Jennings
? The rookie, frozen in front of the thick grey wall of fog, crept around to look back. Thudding footsteps rushed to him, and a hand broke through the grey.
 

Evans fired. “Run!”

Jennings jolted to his senses, fired a few blind shots at the fog before retreating.
 

The moans and echoes of the sprinting feet darted close behind the VTF members. Luckily, the fog lifted the farther they ran, and Evans reached the open road first. He kept running, feet flying across cement.
 

“Jon!” Jennings yelped. He’d fallen flat on his face outside the thick fog. Flipping on his back, he stared in shock at the undead coming for him.

“Get up, Gregory!” Evans knelt, firing his carbine in short bursts. The first two sprinters collapsed beside Jennings; each one had the pleasure of a bullet to the brain. “Get up!”
 

Jennings came to his senses once more. He spun around, scrambling across the cement, only to lose his balance and fall heavily again.
He’s doomed!
Jennings flailed around, raising his rifle. Squealing like a pig at the slaughterhouse, he opened fire, and undead bodies tumbled around him.
 

Evans steadied his aim, targeting the heads. No matter how tough or fearsome his opponent, he would not sacrifice careful aim. He would not—

Jennings kept his finger on the trigger, firing frantically and aimlessly. The gun jammed. He tossed it to the side, covered his face, and curled into a ball. The sprinting horde surrounded him.
What the hell is he doing?!

“Jennings!” Evans reloaded and to his disbelief, salvation came in the form of a pick-up truck hurtling down the road. Headlights beamed on the undead group, and the truck crushed them under its wheels right in front of Pvt. Jennings.
 

Evans finished off some stragglers the truck had missed. He rushed to Jennings, yanked him to his feet, and slapped him across the face once, then again. “If you ever give up, I’ll end you myself, you got it?” Evans slapped the kid a third time for good measure.
 

Jennings gulped and nodded.
 

The pick-up truck swerved back on the road. Lt. Mark Sampson leaned out the window. He neither smiled nor offered a friendly greeting, simply said, “Get in.”
 

Machine gun fire blasted from the bed of the truck. Evans helped Jennings into the passenger’s seat before slamming the door shut. He then joined Private Cruz and his M249 light machine gun in the bed. Hulking muscles bulged under cut-off sleeves as Cruz fired. He had various cuts and bruises splashed over his body. A deep gash ran next to his eye, cutting all the way up to his shaved head. None of this seemed to bother him.

When the truck finally sped off, Cruz relaxed, lowering the LMG. Evans nodded at him. “Not falling asleep now, are you, Cruzzy?”
 

“During a zombie apocalypse? Never.”
 

Evans shook his head in exasperation.
 

“Huh?” Cruz scratched his scalp.
 

“Zombies, man. Don’t you have a problem calling them that?”
 

“Why would I have a problem?”
 

“Never mind.” Evans pulled the sliding glass window open and poked his head inside the truck. Lt. Sampson’s full attention was on the road, unlike Jennings, who picked at his own fingernails. “Any good news, sir?”
 

“Zero communication. Zero idea what’s happening. Everyone in the Vaults has turned. We’re dark.” Lt. Sampson turned his brawny grizzled head to the side. “Longsong? Felix?”
 

“Both dead,” Jennings answered. “Also, Faith,” he added.

“Any sign of Jeff?” Evans raised an eyebrow.
 

“Negative. We need to get up the coast, return to Camp Numark.”
 

“Roger that,” Evans, about to withdraw, remembered his Uncle Dylan. “Sir, my uncle lives on a yacht at the docks in this town up ahead. He’s expecting me to come visit. Chances are he’s still there.”
 

Lt. Sampson gave a curt nod. “Good. We can take the yacht back to base.”
 

The sea will be safer.
Evans slid the window shut and reclined in the truck’s bed.
 

Back at Numark, their Colonel would likely have answers. Evans didn’t need any, but he knew others would. All Evans needed were his new orders: get to the coast, get to the yacht, and get back home. He would not fail.
Never again
, Evans promised himself.
 

Cruz’s eyes grew heavy and fluttered but he managed to keep them open.
Good man.
 

As they sped down the road, trees slicing at their sides, Evans hoped Jeff was safe, and when that thought crossed his mind, he saw a sign on the roadside:

Welcome to Green Hills

episode two

TO THE COAST!

SCOT

Back during college, Scot and Angela had met at a rager of a party. There was a DJ, glowing lights, even a smoke machine. Also, the frat house throwing the party was known for drugging girls, but people still went. Real magical stuff. Scot had always preferred smaller get-togethers, but regardless, he’d met Angela at the raging party and—

“Scot, what the hell happened back there?” Angela’s hand trembled on the steering wheel.
 

The silence had been awkward since they left the reunion, but he still craved it. He needed it.
Silence. It can cure most things. It gives a person time to cool down, to think, to not overreact.
 

She yelled again.
So much for silence.
 

“Please watch the road, Angie,” he said, gingerly touching his swollen face. “We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll watch the road when you give me an explanation.”
 

“Keep calm and slow down. I’ll explain everything back at my parents’ house.” He leaned his head against the passenger window, hoping she would leave him alone. His head throbbed. His chest ached. He simply wanted sleep.
 

Angela’s enraged eyes tore into his flesh.
Watch the road. Please. Stop sign!
Their SUV sped through the intersection without even a hint of slowing down. He jolted off his window in a panic, giving in to her glare.
She’s still looking at me?
“Angie, pull over and we talk!”
 

How the night sped by.
 

Scot shifted and tugged at his seatbelt, his heart accelerating as quickly as the SUV.
 

“I know you slept with my roommate!” Angela screamed and floored it, flying them past flaming crashed cars. He didn’t have a chance to make sense of the blurs; the SUV was moving too quickly.
What the hell was that?
 

“I also know you slept with another girl from my apartment complex! And now I find out you fucked Kale’s girlfriend? You thought I was so clueless, didn’t you?”
 

My cock has finally killed me.
“Angie, wait.” He grabbed the bar above his head as they raced through another intersection. “Oh, shit!”
 

“I thought you were a nice guy. Though clearly after everything tonight, you’re just an asshole. A misogynistic asshole who treats women like objects.” Her eyes were wide with hatred as she growled at him. “I’m not an object, Scot. And don’t you dare say you agree, because that means you’re not listening to me!”
 

Misogynistic? I love women.
Scot stuck out his hands and pleaded for her to wait, “Listen, I’ll explain,” but the night refused to slow down.
 

Just outside the windows of the SUV, the world had sunk into a burning hell.
 

A man in a bathrobe sprinted along the street, screaming at the top of his lungs. Blood stained his entire front. Grabbing at his stomach, he fought and failed to keep his balance. Falling to his knees, he let his insides go. Steaming organs plopped out. He was surrounded by bodies and silhouettes that Scot couldn’t make out, but he heard the man’s shrieks till the end. At that moment, death-by-Angela didn’t seem so bad. She wasn’t even aware of the mayhem outside as she continued her angry tirade.