Dead Soil | Book 3 | Dead World, page 10
part #3 of Dead Soil Series
Christine gave Zack the lead to Blue and walked gingerly toward the source of the sound. She remembered not too long ago when she saw Mr. Alexander, her elderly neighbor, digging through the dumpster outside their apartment complex. That day shook her and now she felt like she was about to relive it all over again. Of course, there was no chance she knew who this zombie was, if it even was a zombie. The law offices she used to work in were on the other side of the city from where they were. But there was still that fear, that fear that she would look into its milky eyes and recognize the person hidden beneath the surface.
But then she took control of her thoughts and emotions and shifted them to a positive one. This could be it. This could be the first fresh zombie they find and it could help to save her sister. The mission wasn’t a complete waste of time. They were going to help in curing the world, starting with Gretchen. Christine kicked the side of the dumpster and waited for the inevitable; the face of the zombie that would help save humanity.
The garbage rustled violently as the thing found its footing and stood up. When Christine saw its face her heart dropped into her stomach. Its face was half-eaten and gnarled, skin hanging loose in shreds under its right eye all the way down its neck, ravaged by another one of its kind. She looked back over her shoulder at Zack but her eyes fell to the pavement. With everything she had in her she held back the tears that wanted to spill. She knew this was a possibility, that maybe never finding the fresh zombies they needed was a possibility.
“Is this really worth killing Gretchen? Killing the world? Letting it go up in flames?” Liam’s voice rang in her ears, though all she could see was the blackness of the alley road.
The zombie struggled to get out but the garbage kept moving beneath its feet, causing it to fall back again into the heap. Finally, it hoisted a leg over the side and rolled itself out, dropping to the pavement like a sack of flour. At first it didn’t move, it just lay there face down and Christine wondered if it had died like it always should have, but then it moved, first a hand, then an arm, and then it pushed itself up to stand. The side of the dumpster had torn open its abdomen and its guts were bursting forth, black blood and entrails spilling out onto the pavement. A hand grabbed Christine on the shoulder. She gave a jump and spun around, not paying much attention to the walking dead behind her.
“We should head out,” Zack’s voice rang behind her, though it sounded far away, clouded by the thoughts at the forefront of Christine’s mind. “It won’t be the first zombie we find. There’ll be others. We’ll get what we need. Don’t worry.”
But Christine knew there was no guarantee. When she left the laboratory she knew this would be hard, but she didn’t realize how impossible it would feel. What were the odds they stumbled across a freshly turned non-fatally harmed zombie? When zombies attacked people it was to kill. Very rarely did anyone get bitten once and walk away. Normally, they were devoured. Gretchen was the exception. She wasn’t hurt too badly because Zack and Christine were there to help her. But was it all for nothing?
“If you don’t do something about it, it will have been all for nothing,” Liam said as he intertwined his fingers into hers and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss. “It’s in your hands, Christine. What are you going to do?”
VIII
Imani threw open the hatch to the bunker and practically jumped down feet-first. When she landed a cloud of dust blew up around her. She coughed but it didn’t slow her down. She charged forward as Svend and Luke climbed down hand-over-hand.
“We got it!” she cried out. “We got the antibiotics!”
Everyone crowded into the community area at the call of her excited voice. Imani rushed to the couch but Olivia wasn’t there anymore. Her heart sank. There was no way they were too late. They couldn’t be. She turned and ran to the room Olivia had been staying in previously, throwing the door open so the steel slammed against the rough-hewn wall. Olivia lay on the bed as if she hadn’t heard the commotion. The light from the community space’s oil lamps threw a glare across her bed. She lay under the covers, shivering despite the flush of her face and the sweat pouring down onto the sheets. Imani came to a sliding stop on her knees.
“I got it,” Imani whispered excitedly as she stroked Olivia’s wet hair. “I got the antibiotics. You’re going to be OK.”
Olivia moaned but she turned to face Imani and worked to focus her eyes on her friend. “Wha—” she tried to speak but the words died in her throat.
“Have you eaten anything? I don’t think you’re supposed to take this on an empty stomach. And you need a full glass of water, too. I’m going to get you some water.” She jumped up and rushed out of the room, leaving the pills on the table next to Olivia’s bed.
As she jogged to get a loaf of bread and some water she noticed the crowd had gathered closely around her father. Voices grew louder and the knit grew tighter. But her father didn’t look nervous at all like he normally did around large groups of people. He was talking to them with confidence and clarity, or so it seemed. She didn’t have time to stop and listen to what he said. It looked like they were demanding answers and he was actually giving them.
“Here,” Imani said, kneeling by Olivia’s bedside again. “Eat this.” She shoved the hunk of fresh baked bread into her friend’s hands and urged them toward her mouth. As Olivia wrenched her lips open she looked like it took all the effort she had left in her to do it. She tried to take a bite and rip it off but her strength was depleted. “I’ll do it,” Imani said as she took the bread back and broke off a small chewable piece. She held it up to Olivia’s mouth so all she had to do was open and accept it.
“You left him out there alone?!” she heard someone shout outside the room. “What if he decides to attack? What if he teams up with others and tries to take over? What if he kills again?” The voices fell flat in the dirt room but they were loud enough to reach Imani’s ears. She tried to ignore it as she gave her friend her first dose of antibiotics. It would be all uphill from there. “Take this and you’ll start to feel better, I promise,” Imani said as she propped her friend’s head up and put the pill in her mouth. Then she tipped the water back for her to drink and it was done. She hoped there was no long-term damage done to Olivia’s organs, like Lee had mentioned. But now she had something else to deal with. “You rest,” she told her friend.
Imani stomped out of the room and pushed through the crowd of people to stand next to her dad. “Kill again?” she shouted, her eyes burning with anger. “Lee hasn’t killed anyone! He’s out there looking for more medicine to save Rowan!”
“The little girl is right. We can’t condemn the man just yet. The world is different and we need to change with it. He’s a nurse and a valuable asset to this community. We can’t just cast him out for one mistake, especially if he’s working so hard to save the guy now. Obviously he regrets what he did and feels bad about it,” a young man said from behind the mass of people.
“Thank you,” Imani said loudly. “He’s right. We need Lee and he’s doing all he can to right his mistake. Give him a chance. He’s not a murderer. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, that we wouldn’t have done in our previous lives. Why do you think you can point the finger when none of us are any better?” Her adrenaline rose, her heart beating against her chest, her hands shaking in balls at her side.
But no one was listening to her. It seemed the community was split in two with some on the side of giving Lee another chance while others wanted nothing to do with him. Voices rose over each other until it was all Imani could do but cover her ears to get away from the raucousness. ‘Shut up,” she whispered as she pushed her way back out of the crowd. “Shut up, shut up.”
“SHUT UP!” a deep and booming voice roared above the crowd. Svend stood at the back, his shoulders squared and tensed, his axe in his hand as if he were going to chop every last one of them to bits. “Lee is looking for medicine, so shut up about it.”
Every last one of them looked at Svend, eyes wide, fear overtaking their ability to speak or move any further.
Imani couldn’t take the tension anymore. She couldn’t handle the accusations people threw around about Lee. He made a mistake but that didn’t make him a monster. The monsters were out there, wandering their earth, devouring their living. They weren’t nurses trying to find medicine to save lives. The image of Rowan’s beaten and bloody face flashed in her mind and her body tensed up violently. She shuddered and shut herself in her room alone. She lit the oil lamp but kept it burning low so she could fade away into the nothingness of the shadows of her bedroom. She could see Lee’s determined face as she said goodbye to him at the pharmacy; the last time she saw him. He could die out there and it would be all her fault. Her dad or Svend could have easily been the ones to come back to the bunker to give Olivia the antibiotics. Why did Lee make her the one to do it? She should be out there protecting him, having his back, making sure he’s clear to find the medicine while she chops heads and laughs while they roll. Those thoughts used to make her cringe and worry about her sanity but not anymore. Now she felt nothing close to guilt. She felt excited at the thought of one less zombie in the world.
Slowly, Imani rose from her bed and crept from her room. She didn’t know how long she’d been in there but when she slipped out her door into the community room it was empty. Everyone had dispersed back to their own rooms for the night. She skipped a room and then slipped into the next one, leaving the door open just a sliver for some light. The lamp was lit low on the bedside table. Its flame flickered, sending orange glows dancing across the rough walls. On the bed a solid form lay motionless. It was so quiet her heart gave a startled lurch. She reached out quickly and placed her fingers at the base of Rowan’s neck where it met his jaw. He awoke and his wheezing breaths resumed frantically. Imani let out a deep sigh of relief. Lee still had time to save him.
“I’m sorry,” Imani said to him. His eyes were wide and unblinking but she was sure he understood her. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but Lee is out there looking for help for you right now. He’s going to fix what he did. You’re going to recover and you’ll be OK. Just rest.” Her stomach jolted violently as she took in the severity of his wounds, making his face unrecognizable.
She stepped lightly backwards until she slipped out of the room again and left the door cracked open for the next person to check on him. She breathed in slowly but it entered her lungs raggedly. Her eyes closed for just a moment while she tried to compose herself. The horrors of this world still got to her sometimes. That was comforting. At least there was still a piece of her in there somewhere. She wasn’t completely lost to the roughness of the zombie apocalypse.
Olivia lay still on the couch now, though her head was turned upward to look over the back at Imani. Their eyes met and Imani gave a weak smile as she waved. When she walked over she sat on the edge of the couch by Olivia’s feet. She picked them up and put them into her lap and rubbed them lightly, more for something to do with the built up tension inside her than for its comforting effect.
“How are you feeling?” Imani asked her friend just above a whisper.
“Better, thanks,” Olivia replied weakly. “I’m not throwing up anymore so that’s a good start.”
They both chuckled lightly, not wanting to wake any of the other bunker residents. They’d both had enough of other people for one night. Instead, they found solace in each other and the silence of the deep night.
“They’re working. Thank you,” Olivia said, taking her hand and reaching down to place it on Imani’s. “Really. If you hadn’t brought the medicine back I would have been a goner. I know it.”
Imani shook her head as tears gathered in her big brown eyes, her dark curls bouncing around her strained face. “It was all Lee. He found them. He made me bring them back to you.”
Olivia let out a tense sigh. “I know. I’m still worried about him all by himself out there. He needs me.”
Imani nodded softly in agreement. “I know how you feel.”
“So let’s do something about it.”
Imani raised her eyes to meet Olivia’s. The flames of the oil lamp reflected in her honey irises. She gave a cheeky smile that said she had a plan for them. Imani couldn’t help but return the smile.
Part Three
“I would rather have strong enemies than a world of passive individualists. In a world of passive individualists nothing seems worth anything simply because nobody stands for anything. That world has no convictions, no victories, no unions, no heroism, no absolutes, no heartbeat. That world has rigor mortis.”
Criss Jami, Killosophy
I
Carolyn Bock stumbled over a root sticking high out of the ground. She fell to her knees with a painful thud, fallen branches cutting a hole in her jeans.
“Get up!” a gruff man’s voice said as he gave her a yank upward under her arm.
He’d been at it the entire time they’d been walking. She didn’t know who they were or how many there were. The minute she was grabbed, a filthy blindfold was pulled over her eyes. The hidden hatchway down to the bunker was the last thing she saw. That and the starry sky above the shadowed red barn.
Without warning she was thrown to the ground, her knees hitting the compacted dirt hard, a branch of some sort knocking into her leg with a searing sting. Carolyn felt warmth wash over her body and heard the crackling of a fire nearby. Someone reached behind her head and yanked the blindfold from her, taking along with it a few strands of her wavy blonde hair.
“What the hell is this?” she growled, her head spinning to take in her surroundings; to find something, anything that looked familiar. There was nothing to give away their location; just trees, leaves, bushes, and more trees. The people didn’t look familiar either, at least the ones standing close enough to the fire for her to see. She was sure there were more lurking out of sight. There had to be a bigger operation at hand than what was in front of her; a few men, a few women, and a handful of children sticking close to each other. They didn’t look like the warriors she expected. Their faces were drawn, bags hanging heavy under their tired eyes, cheekbones jutting out from hunger.
“What is this?” Carolyn asked a little softer this time, though no less urgent.
The man who stood closest behind her was the one who’d handled her the entire journey. Thoughts ran through her head in an attempt to figure out her location again. She was convinced these people didn’t drag her as far as she thought, that if she made a break for it she’d find the treeline and see the bunker’s barn nearby. They probably hauled her around in circles to make it seem farther away than it was. Her eyes narrowed as she turned her head to look at the man behind her, the one she decided was the leader of this clan.
From around the fire, another man, an older man though more fit than the one who towered behind Carolyn, walked up and stood closely in front of her, looking down at her like he thought himself God.
“How many people do you have inside that underground place of yours?” he asked in a gruff voice without any pretense.
Carolyn clamped her lips tightly shut and scowled. The oranges of the fire danced across her blue eyes transforming them into hellfire.
The man didn’t get mad. He didn’t clench his fists or burst out in anger at her stubbornness. He simply asked more questions. “What are the ages of the people in there? Are there more males or females? How many children are in there?” And on and on it went. Carolyn refused to say anything. She hoped that was a huge disappointment to them, but they didn’t seem violent. None of them appeared to have weapons and no one was threatening her. They were all really calm actually, relaxed and not pushing her for information like she thought others would, just requesting. Maybe they really just wanted to be welcomed into the bunker for safety after too much time spent in the elements.
And then, in a sudden burst, the man’s hand whipped across her face, throwing her down to the ground. Carolyn was in shock, taken aback by the blow. She spat dirt out of her mouth and winced as she moved her mouth and cheek around to assess the pain without her hands. The man behind her grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her up onto her knees again. So the man in front of her asking the questions is in charge, she thought as she spat blood. Warmness dribbled down from her lip onto her chin. The man placed his long-fingered hands on his hips after he ran them through his outgrown salt-and-peppered hair.
“Let’s try this again, shall we? How many people do you have down in your underground home there?”
Carolyn gathered her saliva and blood from her mouth and spat it as far she could to reach the man. It landed a few inches shy of his boots but she didn’t let that affect the death-look she gave him. “I’d rather die than tell you anything!” she yelled, hoping her voice echoed off the thick trunks of the pine trees and back to anyone who might be looking for her. “I would never sell out my family to a bunch of psychos like you! They would never welcome you. You will never be invited into our home!”
The man chuckled as he shifted his feet and looked down at his boots. “Welcomed? Invited?” He took a sauntering step closer and knelt down so his eyes were level with hers. With force, he placed his finger under her chin and lifted up. “Honey, we’re not here to coexist…we’re here for total extinction. And if you don’t cooperate and tell us what we want to know we’ll kill you, plain and simple, and take the next person to pop their head out of the hidey hole. Someone will talk. They always do. It doesn’t have to be you.”
Carolyn didn’t realize it but she was leaning back away from the man at an odd angle. The fire burned in his dark eyes as he stared straight through her. He was serious. He could care less about her. He wasn’t there to negotiate. This was a takeover and she was caught dead-center. As her mind raced with possible outcomes her eyes flickered around at the faces watching the exchange again.
