Blood of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (Undead World Trilogy, Book One) (10 page)

More cool liquid, sticky and grimy.

Crchk. BOOM! BOOM!

“Des!” Billie shouted. “Ah!”

Des fell to the ground, his shoulder blades smacking into the pavement. The stinging impact jolted him and his eyes shot open. Black blood covered his vision. He smeared it away. An old dead lady with bright white hair and olive skin stumbled over and stood over him, her murky white eyes lost in a sea of rage. She jerked out both arms, fingers splayed, and lunged on top of him. Her growls and high-pitched shrieks consumed Des’s ears. The funk of the air emanating from the hole in her throat made him gag.

He spat a runny wad of bloody puke in her face. With everything he had, he brought in his fist and clocked her in the temple.

“Get off!”

Crchk.

BOOM! BOOM!

Crchk.

BOOM! BOOM!

The zombies wailed, growled, gurgled. The thud-thud-thud of bodies hitting the ground rumbled along the pavement, Des’s ears drinking it up.

Crchk. BOOM! BOOM!

The gun shots rang out and the wall of bodies that had once loomed over him began to thin then, after a few more moments and fire-cracking blasts, were gone altogether.

Des coughed, rolled over onto his stomach and emptied his guts again. Head swimming, he took a trembling breath and slowly got onto his hands and knees.

“Stand up,” a voice said off to the side.

“Don’t pull so hard,” Billie said, though to whom, Des couldn’t see.

What sounded like the soles of shoes scraping on pavement made Des turn his head to the side so he could get a better look at what was going on. Just beyond a carpet of five bodies, a young man with a shaved head was pulling Billie to her feet. The guy pulled on her wrist so hard when he helped her up that he nearly tossed her into the air. His large gun was aimed at her head the entire time.

“Get away from her,” Des said, his voice hoarse and just above a whisper.

“Quiet,” the man said, his green eyes rock hard, his gaze not just penetrating but downright cold.

“Oh, man . . .” Des pushed himself to his feet, teetered a step, then moved toward them. He tripped and fell when his foot caught the underside of a zombie’s arm, and he landed on top of another corpse.

A strong hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him to his feet.

A young man with a weathered face that made him look ten years older than he probably was stared at him then gave him a push to the chest.

“Hey, watch it!” Des said.

The man pointed the gun at Des’s head. Immediately, Billie lunged at the guy. The man caught her, spun her around, and locked her arm in a chicken wing. Billie, bent over at the waist, her arm forced at an odd angle behind her back, yelped from the pain. She tried to move but each effort seemed to make the pain worse because her face pinched up, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed.

Nearly out of breath, Des stared down the barrel of the gun. “What do you want?”
The man seemed to consider his words, then said, “Take off your clothes.”
“What?” Des replied.
“Wh-what . . .” Billie said.
“You, too,” he told her.
Des wiped some more blood off his face. “You’re kidding.”
The man cocked the hammer of the gun. “No. You got four seconds.”
“Ju-just listen . . . listen to him . . .” Billie said, her face still contorted in pain.
The man let her go. She stumbled to the side a step. The look of pain never left her face as she moved beside Des.
“One,” the man said.
“Grrgh. Fine!” Billie huffed and began removing her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Des said, looking over at her.
“Do you want to get shot?” she asked him.
“Two.” The man took a step closer.
“No, but . . .”

Billie’s shirt was already off and she was working her belt buckle so she could remove her pants. “You always make things so difficult. Don’t blame me if you get a hole blown through your face.”

“Three.”
“So the guy comes, kills some zombies then wants us naked?”
“Let’s go, folks,” the man said. “Four.”
Des raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Chill out, crackerjack. I’ll—”
“Now’s not a good time for wisecracks, Des,” Billie said.

“All right. Whatever.” He quickly kicked off his shoes and took off his tank top and pants and let them drop by his feet.
Don’t blame me if in a few minutes we’re walking around like the rest of the creatures, gray and naked.
“Do you want our gitch, too?”

The man shook his head. Billie looked relieved as she stood there huddled with her thighs pressed together and arms covering her chest.

“Take off your socks. Both of you,” the guy said, gun still aimed at them.

They did.

The man moved over to Billie, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard, keeping her in place. Gun pointed at Des, he told him to turn around.

No, this isn’t awkward at all,
he thought and, arms in the air, turned around, moving slowly, still sore. He felt a palm graze his back then wipe off some of the blood that must have gotten back there.

“Okay, now you,” the man said.

Billie slowly spun around in her spot. The guy moved her hands away from her chest and looked her over. Des half-expected the man to have some sort of sleazy smile crease his face, but instead the man conveyed zero emotion nor even pleasure in looking at such a beautiful girl wearing nothing but her underwear.

The man lowered the gun. “Get dressed,” he said and turned his back to them.

This was it. This was his chance. Grimacing, Des raised his fist and was about to plow it into the back of the guy’s head when Billie stopped him.

He must have looked at her incredulously because she quietly said, “Don’t. If he was after us or wanted something, he would have killed us. His turning around is a sign of trust.”

“So, what, we’re supposed to trust him, now?”
“What’s the matter with you? He just saved our lives. Stop acting like such a guy. The dude was checking us over for bites.”
“Then why didn’t he say so?”
With a smile that Des thought was completely inappropriate given the circumstance, she said, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Rolling his eyes, he scooped up his clothes and got dressed as quickly as possible, minding himself not to let his eyes wander over to Billie lest she should see him and lay into him later. She was the only friend he had and the last thing he wanted was to blow that friendship never mind anything else that might—
might
—transpire between them.

When they finished dressing, Billie cleared her throat, hands on hips. Des crossed his arms.
The man turned around, keeping his eyes locked on theirs.
He pointed his gun at them.

 

 

8

More

 

BOOM!

The shot rang out. Joe didn’t have to be beside these two to know they heard the bullet whistle by; it zipped between their heads and into the bald, undead fellow who dragged his feet as he came up behind them.

The two ducked at the noise, covering their ears. When they straightened, they followed his gaze to the zombie lying on the pavement behind them, blood pooling out of the dead man’s head.

The young man and woman looked at him with wide eyes, jaws slack.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Oh, right. Thanks. Sorry,” the young man said.
“Yeah, thanks,” the girl said.
“You guys really shouldn’t be out here,” Joe said.
The girl with pink hair glanced at the bodies around her feet. “We know. We just . . .”

Joe hefted his gun. Still one shot left till he had to cock the hammer again. The chamber held twelve rounds. He still had four twelve-round clips attached to his belt. There were more at home. “Just?”

The scrawny young fellow stepped forward. “We had to get out of my place.”
Joe arched an eyebrow.
“Bad case of rats.”
“Rats?” Joe said.

“Yeah, dead ones. You know, the kind with white eyes just like” —the guy kicked one of the bodies at his feet— “these suckers right here.”

The infection’s spread?

“Don’t worry. They’re still trapped inside his building, just over there.” The girl nodded down the street.

“You look surprised,” the guy said to Joe.

“Should I be?” It wasn’t the best thing to say, but Joe had been so isolated from the rest of the world for so long other than for his nocturnal activities that he forgave himself for this one slip in conduct.

“All I know is something’s changed,” the girl said. She stepped forward and stood by her friend. “There’s been rumors online that things just feel different somehow. It’s hard to put into words. But, I think, you and me and those rats just proved that something has changed. So far as we know, the animals hadn’t been affected by the rain.”

“A rat’s an animal? Thought they were rodents,” the guy said.

The girl jabbed him in the arm then looked at Joe. “Forgive him. He’s an idiot.” To the guy: “Yes, doofus, rats are animals, too.”

The guy rubbed his arm where she poked him. “What’re you calling me ‘doofus’ for?”

The girl smiled.

Joe was not amused. Perhaps last year he would have found this kind of humor funny. He always had a thing for how people interacted and loved reflecting on it, usually with a bit of wit. It was one of the reasons he loved
Seinfeld
so much in his former life. These days, however . . .

“You should get off the street,” he told them.
“You’re right,” the girl said.
“You two have a place to go?” He wanted them to say yes. He still had work to do tonight.
“Yup,” she said.
“Okay, then. We’re done.”
“Uh huh.”

Her friend didn’t seem to know what to say. By the looks of things, she was the commander in whatever relationship the two had going.

He eyed them a moment then said, “Bye.” And turned to walk away.
“Look, um—” the young man said behind him.
Joe stopped but didn’t turn around, only cocked his head toward them.
“Thanks for saving us.”
Joe managed a half smile. “You’re welcome. Stay safe.”
“’Kay.”
Joe walked away.

 

* * * *

 

You’re such a coward,
Des thought as he watched their mysterious rescuer move away from them.
Uh oh.
“Hey, uh, guy in the coat?”

The man stopped walking.
“Those rats are over there, remember? You’re headed right—”
The man merely nodded and kept going.
To Billie: “The dude’s gonna get himself killed!”
“Not if they don’t escape,” she said.
“True. Still.”
“Okay, it’s over. Let’s go.” She maneuvered around the bodies, arms held out to keep her balance as she tried to find footing.
“Careful, Bill.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I said ‘Billie.’”
“No, you didn’t.”

The two walked down the street, eyes peeled for any more of the undead. They took turns looking back at the man who had appeared out of nowhere and saved their lives.

It wasn’t long before the man turned a corner, and was gone.
Des clicked his tongue. “Great.”
“What?”
He stopped walking and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Left my bar back there.”
“Do you really want to go back?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”

He licked his lips.
Some “zombie wrangler” you turned out to be.
“Wanna just leave it, then?”

She shrugged. “Up to you.”

He set his eyes on the mound of bodies in the distance. He
really
didn’t want to have to go over there and pick through them. Even more, he didn’t want to get their blood on his hands and accidentally imbibe it. He thought of the big black zombie that nearly killed him and how the dude had put a blood-covered finger down his throat. What kind of blood that was, he didn’t know. Hopefully the kind that wasn’t contaminated. Already feeling ashamed over his lack of courage, he decided to keep it to himself for now and only tell Billie if he absolutely had to.

“We’ll be all right. There’s more of the undead back there than we’ve ever seen all at once in this area. That’s probably all of them and even if there are a few more out there, they’re probably not on this street,” he said.

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