Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (16 page)

“I’m cold and scared. Is that enough of a reason?”
 

Miller paused, rethought his decision to join Tommy, and Kale chuckled to himself as the deputy went to the corner to sit alone. Miller clearly wanted to avoid a couple about to fight, a couple in mourning, and the two dimwits he called prisoners.
He’s left alone. But I would be a friend if he took these cuffs off.
 

“I’m looking out for us,” Tommy whispered, whipping his hair back and cracking his neck.
 

“You can’t even see anything,” said Erica. “It’s too dark.”
 

“Maybe if you weren’t screwing your boss behind my back I would sit with you.”
 

Oh, great, relationship drama.
Erica stood furiously. “You said we had an open relationship. I take ‘open’ to mean we can screw whoever.”
 

“It’s whomever.”
 

“No, it’s whoever,” she snapped.

“I’m telling you now, it’s
whom
ever.”
 

Kale lowered his head and sighed in despair.
I hope they’re eaten next.
 

“
This is pointless. I’m not fighting with you,” Erica said. Tommy gave no response. “Well, say something!”

Their argument escalated and within moments, they were screaming at each other. The silence that had graced the refugees vanished.
 

Miller tried desperately to quiet them.
 

Too late.
 

They came, searching for food, attracted by the noise. Their feet stumbled around the parking lot.
 

“Great, now look what you did!” Tommy pointed a finger in her face.
 

“It’s your fault!” She slapped him.
 

Something
devour them.
 

Miller unholstered his Glock and rushed to Tommy. “How many?”
 

“Can’t tell.”
 

More footsteps. More moans. One sprinted through the parking lot to the front of the bar, arriving at the hole the patrol car had created. The zombie clawed questioningly at the walls.
 

“Christ, they know we’re up here. How can they possibly know that?” Miller rubbed his sweaty palms.
 

“Maybe if the two lovebirds kept their mouths shut!” Howard yelled and lowered his head, realizing it didn’t help the situation. He looked back at Kale. “What? I have an excuse.”
 

“What’s that?”
 

“Still drunk.” He burped.
 

Me too, kind of. It’s hard to feel drunk at a time like this.
 

The Last Round wasn’t a tall building by any means and the zombies soon figured this out. Unintentionally, Kale thought. Their numbers kept growing and they piled on one another in their rabid search for food. He wondered if any of them were his neighbors, friends, or even his family members. Green Hills wasn’t
that
big of a town, after all. But then again, all those in the cemetery would’ve likely crawled from their graves. So...Kale didn’t really know what he was thinking about.
 

Tommy grabbed Erica’s arm, pulling her away from the ledge. Miller backed away, holding his gun at the ready. Howard stood behind them and helped Kale to his feet. Alec and Nicole stood on the other side. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes. “What do we do?”

He pulled her close, kissing her hair, remaining silent.
 

Back at the ledge, a dead hand clambered for the top.
Zombie!
Tommy swiftly kicked it back to the ground.
At least he’s good for something.
Miller helped fend the other zombies off.
 

Kale would’ve assisted if not for the damn cuffs around his wrists. Although, he guessed he could still kick. Instead, he fled to the back of the roof, past the air duct. He stared down at where he and his other friends had held their brief meeting during the reunion. A meeting that went nowhere. He saw a line of trees past the bar. The area was clear.
 

Howard bumped into him. “What are you thinking?” he asked. Huffs and groans came from behind him as Miller and Tommy continued to kick the moaning zombies off the wall.
 

“They can’t kick forever and their numbers will only grow. We hop off and run while they’re still on that side.”
 

“I’m in.”
 

Kale looked back. An arm reached up and grabbed Tommy’s ankle. It tugged him forward. His feet slipped off the roof and he screamed. Miller grabbed his arm and pulled him to safety. He stomped on the rotten face with his boot. “There’s too many,” he observed. The deputy backed away.
 

Tommy marched to Erica, wrapped his arms tight around her waist, and kissed her forcefully. She returned the kiss. He pulled away, staring at her with a smile twitching his lips. “If we make it through this, forget this open shit we have. I want to be closed with you.”
 

Erica’s face broke into a wide smile and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. They held each other for a few long seconds, surrounded by rotting moans.
 

Typical couple.
 

Alec, Nicole, Tommy, Erica, Kale, Howard, and Deputy Miller gathered at the roof’s back. They watched as the first few undead climbed successfully onto the roof.

And as Kale yelled for them to jump, and as the undead charged across the roof, a shower of bullets blasted through the night, ripping bodies open. The survivors rushed forward, looking for their saviors. Muzzle flashes burst from a truck that had pulled up. Soldiers dressed in all black, much like Jeffery “Homer” Brennan, were firing at the zombies.

The Vault Tactical Force had arrived.
 

With the zombies either distracted or dead, an opening for their escape came. “Hop off the back!” Miller commanded, stealing Kale’s idea. The deputy was the first one off, followed by Tommy and Erica. Kale jumped next. He did not fall gracefully, face-planting after losing his balance on the landing.
Curse these cuffs!
 

Squirming his way to a stance, dirt sticking to his chin, Kale spat at the deputy and jiggled the handcuffs on his wrist. “Free me.”
 

“Let’s go.” Miller grabbed Kale’s arm, tugging him to the establishment’s corner. The gunfire crackled on the other side. “Where the hell are the two lovebirds?”
 

Kale shrugged. Miller peered around the building, searching for Tommy and Erica. The couple had already turned the corner, running for the truck, running straight toward a pack of sprinters.
 

“Tommy!” Erica trailed her boyfriend and jumped as a rotten arm swiped at her. She fell, barely evading the attack. Tommy slid in the dirt, spun, and sprinted back to save her, his hands chopping the air at his sides. He grabbed the zombie’s shoulders and threw it to the ground. A quick stomp to its face. Another. A third stomp broke through rotten skull and finished it.
Okay, I guess he’s kind of a badass.
But Tommy’s ankle was stuck in the skull. He struggled, lowering his guard, and finally freed his foot from the moldy trap, just as Erica screamed.
 

Teeth broke through his flesh.
 

“No!” Erica ran for her boyfriend as skin and leather pulled off his body. “Tom—”

The zombie’s head blew open.
 

Tommy swung to the ground, dodging bullets, and rolling to his knees. He grabbed the back of his neck; his fingers were red. Light shone on him, illuminating his body for all to see.
 

Tommy raised his shaking hands above his head. “I’m okay!”
 

Erica stared at him. Tears poured down her face. “Tommy?” her voiced cracked.
 

“Close your eyes, my love.”
 

One scream. One bullet. Like the sun shining in a dusty room, blood showered and sprinkled through the light beam attached to the shooter’s rifle. Tommy dropped to grass, and his brain was visible beneath loose flaps of his skin. Erica fell beside him as more zombies charged for her, only to be cut down by a spray of light machine gun fire from the bed of the truck.
 

Behind Kale, Howard gasped, “Awesome.”

Kale wished he could say the same.
 

There was nothing
awesome
about Erica’s heart-wrenching cry.

EVANS

I crashed our transport back at the Vault. I won’t crash again.
 

Ordered to drive the four-door pickup truck after rescuing the civilians from the bar, Evans had not taken the task lightly. The roads were usually empty, a straight shot to the coast. He’d always pride himself on remembering directions, and had visited his uncle’s yacht before.
Just be there.
 

To his side, Lt. Sampson gripped his Desert Eagle pistol, its silver shimmering under the moon. He had always liked Sampson. Intelligent, collected, and calm. And although Sampson had dark eyes that seemed to hate the world, he was a very caring man, and his squad meant everything to him.
 

He is unlike my commanding officer in the Marines.
Ashamed after his transfer from his unit, Evans hadn’t told anyone the reason why. He did, however, find the VTF somewhat rewarding, and felt more competent than almost all the other members.
Not saying much, I guess.
 

Behind Evans and Sampson was Pvt. Jennings and two of the survivors, both very attractive girls. Hell, most of the civilians they’d picked up were attractive, and Evans initially thought they’d rescued a modeling convention. One of the girls in the back, Erica, was still crying from losing her boyfriend.
 

Kill your tears.
He never saw the point in crying, unless to help dry eyes.
 

“How much farther, Specialist?” Sampson asked him.
 

Evans gave an educated guess of 15 minutes.
 

“How do you know your uncle will even be there?” Jennings had to open his snarky mouth. Sampson silenced him.
 

Uncle Dylan lived on the yacht, and had also been expecting Evans over for dinner tonight, so Evans figured his uncle had no reason to leave.
Unless raided by the undead and sailed for safety.
But Evans was ready to take the chance. Either way, they had to get back to their base, Camp Numark, and traveling by sea made the most sense since Numark was north up the California coast.
 

Evans tightened his grip around the steering wheel of the truck.
No fear now. Sampson will guide us home.
All he had to do was not crash.
 

The roads were wet and quiet, and no one spoke in the truck, and Evans had to think about something in order to block out Erica’s crying. So he focused on what had happened hours earlier.
 

The attack at the Vault should bother him more than it had so far, he knew. The inhabitants had been trapped in there for almost half a year...
and they came out as zombies
?
Did this happen at every Vault
? Evans didn’t know the total number of Vaults off the top of his head, even though he should have, but it was a procedure initiated across the world. Someone knew something would happen, and they were right.
 

Keep driving. Stay focused.
 

The higher-ups in the VTF had wanted to keep their operation a secret, shrouding it from the media. But even the grunts in the VTF had been told how the Vaults would open. One of the Vault creators, Addison Layton, came forward with a code that opened all the doors.
A code for all those underground caskets? Laughable.
 

He was done thinking about this. Survival was all that matters.
 

Erica’s quiet sobbing bothered him more than he wished.
Guilt
, he told himself. But her boyfriend had to go. He was bitten. No time for anything else.
 

All the bullets, screams, and cries back at the bar had made enough noise to attract another invasion, and escape had become the critical priority.
 

Evans tried to clear his fuzzy memory on the path to the yacht club. They would pass a high school soon, then take one road to a fork at the coast. He forgot how exactly to get down to the yacht club.
 

Not the best plan, but without communications, without power, they weren’t left with much else.
Stick to this and it will work. Ignore other possibilities.

In the bed of the truck were the other survivors, guarded by Pvt. Cruz.
Wonder if he’s getting sleepy?
 

Miller, the seemingly incompetent deputy, had exchanged words with Evans before they entered the truck. He’d wanted answers. The specialist was quick to ignore him, for he had his job to do.
Drive. Don’t crash.
He planned on doing just that.
 

The road became scattered with parked cars, some wrecked, some on fire, a few dead bodies; luckily, none of them were moving. Of course, all relief ends. A crashed sedan was surrounded by almost a dozen undead. Fast hands clawed at the vehicle. Evans felt himself slowing down.
 

“Don’t stop, Specialist. We’re full and can’t save everyone,” said Sampson.

Evans knew this true, but the sandy blond head of his friend spinning around in the sedan forced him to hit the brakes.
 

Sampson cursed. “I said drive!”
 

“Jeff is in there, sir,” Evans said and swung his door open.
 

Sampson growled again and turned to Jennings. “Well, get out there and help him.” He did the same, and together the three VTF members unleashed a spray of bullets around the sedan. Evans remained kneeling, taking careful shots at the heads. Sampson blasted a couple standing next to him. Jennings fired with no responsibility whatsoever.
Just don’t hit Jeff.
They were quick to clear the sedan. Sampson took lead, running with his massive pistol at his thigh.