Authors: Armand Rosamilia
"If you're so omnipotent and good, why are people still suffering? Why wouldn't you walk through the streets like a fucking messiah and heal everyone? Make their troubles go away? Talk the talk and walk the walk, fucker. You say you want to protect and help these survivors. But I don't see it happening," Darlene said.
"It takes time. There are things you don't yet understand about what I can and cannot do. Yes, I could have healed his cancer. I can do many wondrous things, and I intend to do all of them and more. Things you cannot fathom. But I need to gain my strength and if this cure works it will make it that much easier." The Lich Lord pointed at Darlene. "You have some of my blood flowing through your veins. You will feel stronger and more powerful than you've ever felt, but you still have human blood mixed in there, too. We don't know what is going to happen to you or Shane or anyone. This is why I'm doing this the way I am doing it. So I can learn from the mistakes and work on a better cure."
Shane slid down the cage, his eyes wide.
Darlene noticed Shane and broke off the argument with The Lich Lord, running to the cage just in time to see Shane take his last breath. He lasted another thirty minutes before he turned into a zombie. Darlene and The Lich Lord had sat in silence and watched the transformation.
"I'm leaving. This didn't work," Darlene said.
The Lich Lord shook his head. "I will accompany you to your room. Give me a few hours and then you can leave. Trust me. You will like what I am about to do." He pointed at the zombie. "This isn't over yet. It actually strengthens my resolve for what we need to do next. The two of us, Darlene.
* * * * *
A gunshot brought John out of a sound sleep, and his half-awake mind tried to think of the number of times he'd been woken from the sound of fighting nearby. Too many to count. Before all of this started, the alarm clock was the worst thing dragging him out of a soft bed and warm blankets...
"I could use some help," Heath shouted.
John came to and grabbed his gun. There were three zombies in the room and a fourth already shot in the head and on the ground.
"How did they get inside?" John asked, shooting the closest in the face.
"They're surrounding us," Heath said and shot another. "And I don't have enough ammo to kill them all." he killed the next one and glanced at John. "We need to save two bullets... just in case."
John couldn't argue the point. He'd rather die a man fighting than die a zombie somewhere down the road. John thought he had a few shots left before he was done. He still had Darlene's Desert Eagle on him, but it was empty. If he had to crush in a few skulls before he dropped, so be it.
Heath shot the last zombie in the room and ran to the door, shutting it. The lock was broken.
"You can make this easier on yourselves and surrender," a voice yelled from the front lawn. "There are thirty of us and two of you. I'm guessing you're running low on ammo, too. Probably haven't had a decent night's sleep in forever. And you're asking yourself more and more each day... is this even worth it? Why not give in and let them bite you, right? Become one of us. We have nothing but hunger. No pain, no sorrow. No thoughts to make us weak. We don't need to sleep. We are content. And who knows, maybe someday, if you survive long enough, you can be like me. Aware. Intelligent. Finally living without the human emotions that hinder your life. Just say the word and I will tell them to make your death quick and keep you intact. Deal?"
"Go fuck yourself," John yelled. He needed a weapon before more got inside.
"We're the ones who are fucked," Heath said. "There must be fifty of them outside. We need to escape."
"No shit." John opened the cracked closet door, hoping an armory would greet him. Instead, it was dust and an old sweater hanging on a brittle plastic hangar.
"If we both run out at the same time, maybe one of us will be able to outrun the zombies," Heath said.
"And then what? One of us will die," John said.
"But one of us will live." Heath put his hand on the door. Something crashed on the other side of the house. "They are getting closer."
John looked up. Maybe if there was an attic to hide in. Nothing in this room.
Heath opened the door and ran before John could say anything.
Fucking idiot
, John thought as he heard two gunshots.
John went into the hallway and looked up for an attic. Nothing again.
I can't catch a break.
There was no way he would run blindly outside into the waiting arms of fifty zombies, and especially with a smart one leading the pack.
He heard one more gunshot.
There were two bodies at the other end of the hall and shadows on the wall. They were coming for John.
He ran back into the bedroom, closed the door and pulled the dirty mattress against it. Not that it would block anything from coming in, but it might buy him a few more precious moments.
John got into the closet and slumped down against the wall. There was nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.
He pulled out his pistol and Darlene's Desert Eagle. He wished he had ammo for her gun so he could use it to keep from becoming a zombie. It would be fitting. Maybe someday she'd come along this path and find him, slumped in the closet with her weapon. John knew he was delusional but right now he had nothing else to keep from crying.
He'd never see his baby or Darlene again. This world had finally caught up and was going to break his will.
Through the crack in the thin door John saw a zombie shuffle into the room, closely followed by another. They'd easily pushed the door open and the mattress fell to the floor, and the lead zombie tripped over it and fell.
The second zombie tripped over the first, both struggling to rise.
John had to grin. He was going to be killed by the stupidest monsters of all time. They'd take forever to right themselves and attack. He decided he'd be long dead by then.
A third zombie, this one wearing a nice suit and covered in blood, walked into the room and smiled in John's direction.
John put the gun to his head.
"I wouldn't do that just yet, John," the zombie said.
"How do you know my name?" John asked, ready to pull the trigger. Maybe fucking Heath told him before he died. Bastard. There was no way he was going to get turned into one of these monsters.
The zombie stomped his dress shoes on the heads of the two prone zombies until they stopped moving and took another step towards the closet, putting his hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you, John Murphy. I'm here to help you."
"Fuck off."
The zombie grinned. "You still have the fire, just like Darlene."
John turned the gun towards the zombie and kicked the door open. "I swear, if you've hurt Darlene..."
"She's safe and sound back in Daytona Beach, John. I'm here to bring you to her. I've killed the zombies outside, including their supposed leader. I'm on your side. She has no idea I'm doing this, but we need to hurry. It will be light soon. I have a car waiting," the zombie said.
"Where is Heath?"
"He ran right into a pack of them. Idiot. If your friend had waited another two minutes, he would've also been saved."
John stood up, keeping the guns aimed at the zombie's head. He'd bluff with the Desert Eagle and shoot with the other if it came down to it, but John wanted to hear more. "Heath wasn't my friend."
"He was weak. I'm glad I didn't save him, to be honest. He'd just be another problem I'd need to monitor."
John lowered both guns but didn't put them away. "What now?"
"We get out of this wretched place before more zombies arrive, drawn to the gunfire." The zombie stared at John. "Interesting..."
"What?"
"I can't read your thoughts, either. It is beginning to make sense."
"Who are you?" John asked.
"Oh, sorry. I'm The Lich Lord."
Chapter Nineteen
What was he doing? Jeff paced in front of the bar, tapping the pistol against his head. Now he had three prisoners. He needed to figure out a game plan and fast, before The Lich Lord figured out so many people had gone missing.
He was hoping there would be more of a struggle from Scotty. Jeff was still on the fence about killing him or not. The newcomer had interfered with his plans, and gotten between Jeff and Taylor, his prize.
Jeff stared at Taylor, pretty and tied up on the floor. Maybe he could take her with him? Would she struggle at first but then give in once she had nowhere to run back to? Would Taylor finally understand Jeff and want to make it work?
Scotty was struggling to escape his bonds. Jeff kicked him in the side. "Every time you move I'll kick you." Jeff smiled and raised his foot but then turned it slowly in Taylor's direction. "Better yet... every time you move I kick her in her pretty face. She won't look so good with a mouth full of broken teeth, will she?"
Scotty stopped moving and stared at Jeff. If looks could kill...
Vee looked more resigned to her fate, but she was a tricky little bitch. Jeff could see she was biding her time before she struck. Maybe Vee would be the perfect road companion? Nah. She was too much of a fighter. Jeff would never feel safe with her around. He turned back to Taylor. She would make the perfect girlfriend. She was young and could be easily manipulated. He remembered reading something a long time ago about Stockholm syndrome. He thought it was something about the captured falling in love with their captor. Once on the road Jeff would find a library and find a book on it.
There was a knock at the door.
"This is some cosmic fucking joke, right?" Jeff aimed the gun slowly at each of the three prisoners in turn. "One move and I kill you. As long as you remain quiet you remain alive. I'm not sure why I have to keep threatening you like you're a bunch of children."
Jeff needed sleep. He was getting tired and had really wanted nothing more than to shoot all three in the face and call it a night. He'd figure everything out in the morning after a nice, long sleep.
He made sure the silencer was tight on the pistol. Jeff wasn't going to play games anymore. If it was anyone other than The Lich Lord, he was going to kill them. Hell, he might even shoot that prick in the face.
The knock came again.
Jeff opened the door a quarter of the way, pistol held behind the door. He put his foot across the threshold so there would be no mistake for an invite inside.
It was Claude.
"Holy shit, dude, what? It's really fucking late and you woke me," Jeff said.
"Sorry. I was supposed to get here much earlier but got caught up with another group of new arrivals." Claude tried to look behind Jeff into the darkened bar. "Uh, did Vee come to talk to you?"
"Yeah. Hours ago." Jeff shifted his weight to further block Claude, keeping the gun hidden.
"Where is she?" Claude asked.
"Wiping her ass? How the fuck should I know. She was here, she said a bunch of stupid shit, and then she left. I haven't seen her and I'm trying to sleep," Jeff said.
"Can I come in and look around?" Claude asked, and now Jeff noticed Claude's hand hovering behind his back, where he was sure his firearm was waiting.
Jeff smiled. "I'm not gay. I appreciate the offer, but I like a good pussy to play with."
"That wasn't an offer."
"Sure, but then promise me you're going to leave."
"I promise. Step back from the door," Claude said.
"What, you don't trust me?"
"Why would I?"
Jeff opened the door all the way and moved back with it.
Someone kicked behind the bar.
Claude turned his head at the sound and that's all Jeff needed. He fired twice into Claude's head and killed him. Claude was dragged inside. Jeff would toss the body out back in a bit.
"Whoever kicked is an asshole. You forced me to kill Claude. I was going to let him go," Jeff lied. "This death is on you, not me."
Jeff was glad he'd killed him. Four prisoners would be unmanageable.
At this rate you'll have half the town tied up behind the bar and the other half in a pile of bodies at your feet
, Jeff thought.
He needed a drink.
Jeff went behind the bar and feigned a kick to keep everyone on the ground honest. He didn't have time for this shit right now. He needed to sleep but couldn't trust them not to try and get untied and get help. If he went through the trouble of making sure they were completely secured, he still wouldn't be able to sleep with both eyes closed.
He ran his free hand through his thinning hair and went to put the pistol down on the bar but thought better of it.
"No one is going to fuck with me, got it? We're going to enjoy our time together. If anyone so much as breathes hard, I will shove this gun up their ass and pull the trigger. And the silencer will hurt even more plugged up there," Jeff said and laughed at his own joke.