The Dead Series (Book 2): Dead Is All You Get (3 page)

Climbing out of the helicopter, we made our way towards the main campus. There were no signs of the draggers we’d escaped from only days earlier when we’d made a full assault on the Red Militia and rescued Griffin from her stepfather, and where the militia’s leader Ormand Ferry had died. It looked like Black Dragon had brought in reinforcements and regained control of the property and turned it into a clean, organized command center.

As we strode across the grass, I saw workers in coveralls patching and painting the bullet-scarred walls of the buildings. Others replaced outdoor lights and tended to the greenery that dotted the landscape. Another soldier approached Warnick and Springer and said something I couldn’t make out. They followed him off in another direction, and we followed our escort.

Up ahead I saw a row of large, black trailers in the parking lot. Long lines of civilians queued up in front of each one.

“What are those?” I said to the soldier escorting us.

“Mobile medical units. We’re testing everyone for the virus.”

“There’s a test?”

“Finally.”

“And if they’re infected?”

“We put them in an isolation ward.”

“Where?”

“That’s classified.”

“What if they’re well?”

“We’re using the gym as an evac center again. If they develop symptoms later, we transfer them out.”

In the beginning, when all this had started and Black Dragon had taken control of the town, the gym had been converted to an evac center. But when things went sideways, it became a charnel house. I broke away and headed straight for it. The last time I’d been here, it had been infested with draggers and smelled like meat rot. Now, the doors were open and bright lights shone inside, giving the place a cheery atmosphere. So I went in.

The interior was clean and smelled of disinfectant. They’d set up coffee stations on either side in front of the bleachers. A sea of army surplus cots and blankets stood in neat rows in the middle of the floor. Civilians sat at round banquet tables, playing games and chatting. They were all ages and included children, some of whom belly-laughed their way through a game of Twister. Though armed soldiers stood watch along the perimeter, the mood was relaxed. I remembered searching for Holly here, when we were separated and I didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. And I also remembered Mrs. Hough, an old neighbor whose mind had faded and who I’d tried to help. She’d been lost to the draggers.

Holly and the others joined me.

“It’s like it never happened,” I said. I ran my fingers down the freshly painted doors. No sign of blood anywhere.

Far off, I recognized Eddie Greely, the owner of the skating rink where I’d almost died in Chavez’s twisted version of sudden death. He was frail but alive. When he saw me, he waved. I started towards him, but our escort took my arm.

“We need to test you.”

As I turned to leave, a girl let out a scream that sent shards of glass down my spine. Soldiers ran to where she was playing with the others. She pointed underneath the bleachers. Dropping to his knees, the soldier peered into the shadows and signaled for the children to move away. Then he reached way back and pulled something out.

It was a severed hand.

The escort led us towards one of the MMUs and to the front of the line. Holly instructed Greta to wait for us outside. The German shepherd lay down near the steps, wearing that disappointed look that only a dog can manage, and rested her head on her paws. A young girl tried to pet her, but a woman took her hand and gently pulled her away.

“Careful,” the woman said.

Inside lay an impressive array of medical equipment and electronics. A physician’s assistant guided us in and proceeded to perform a series of standard tests—the kind you would expect during a routine physical. After our exams, phlebotomists drew vials of blood from each of us.

“You’ve identified the virus?” I said to the physician’s assistant.

“We have.”

“But there’s no vaccine, right?”

“No—I wish.”

Though I didn’t think any of us was infected—through sheer luck and God’s good grace—I worried that the possibility existed, and it frightened me.

Evie sat next to me, her bare arm extended, as they inserted the needle.

“Where did they pick you up?” I said.

“Along one of the fire roads.”

“Thanks for alerting the troops. Did you ever make it to—”

“Not here.” She smiled at the phlebotomist. “I can’t wait to take a hot shower.” The guy smiled.

“How long before we know?” I said to the phlebotomist.

“A couple hours.”

“What about communications?”

“Cell service is still out.”

“Internet?”

“Tits up.” Then to Evie, “Sorry.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard so much worse,” she said.

After we finished the exam, they led us into the administration building, where the grey-haired man who’d rescued us stood waiting, along with Warnick and Springer. The guy seemed genuinely pleased to see us.

“Kelly Pederman,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m the new supervisor.”

“So I guess you heard about Chavez,” I said.

He made eye contact with Warnick and cleared his throat. “A tragic loss.”

“Yeah, tragic.”

An uncomfortable silence polluted the air. I looked at Warnick. His face was like smooth stone. What had he and Springer told this guy about us?

“We’ll have the results of your tests shortly,” Pederman said. “In the meantime, I’d like to extend what hospitality we can. Anyone hungry?”

They led us into a conference room to wait for the results. Greta accompanied us again and stayed close to Griffin. Shortly after, they brought actual food—not the MREs we’d come to loathe these past few weeks. We had our choice of McDonald’s Egg McMuffins or pancakes with bacon and coffee and orange juice.

“It’s stupid, but I’ve been, like, craving McDonald’s,” Griffin said and tossed a handful of bacon to Greta.

“I’ll catch up with you folks later,” Pederman said. On his way out he instructed another soldier to bring a bowl of water for the dog.

“What happened to Jeff?” I said to Evie after the soldier left.

Evie looked at me strangely, her eyes distant, as if struggling to ward off the memory traces of a bad dream. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead. He was a stand up guy. Never complained, no matter how bad things got. And trust me, I’m no picnic.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Holly said.

As we ate, I watched Evie. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I knew this wasn’t the time. I could tell she didn’t trust these people. But they were the authorities. Did she think there was still a rogue element at work? I didn’t think so, but she was a reporter with amazing instincts. How else could she have survived so long without weapons? But I did ask her one question.

“Is there hope?” I said.

She thought about that a long while and smiled. “There’s always hope. It’s what I’ve traded on my whole life. That and a good story.”

After our meal, we relaxed as best we could in the leatherette chairs that school districts can almost afford. When I closed my eyes, vivid images of these past months played through my brain like a disjointed slide show without music. I saw myself skating on the ice at Happier Times, desperate to keep away from Missy Soldado who, reduced to a hungry skeleton covered in leathery skin, was hell-bent on devouring me as crazed soldiers hooted and whistled. I saw Chavez, the former supervisor, dying in a pool of blood, his skull crushed by a pipe wrench. And that kid Barnes whimpering in the corner of a different conference room in another building across town, his right leg chewed to shit, the life lazily leeching from his body to be replaced by a more vicious life of feasting on other people.

I saw armies of the undead surging like a red tide through Tres Marias, backlit by the angry roaring fires of pit-bound burning bodies. I saw everything that had gone wrong since that first night with my friend Jim, when he’d died in my car but wouldn’t stay dead. I saw his enormous dog Perro, bloody and rabid, panting in the cold night air, waiting patiently. For me.

Finally, I saw Nina Zimmer’s baby daughter, Evan, smiling and happy. Her face warmed me, reminding me that there might still be hope.

When I opened my eyes, Pederman stood in the doorway holding a pile of sealed manila envelopes.

“Well,” he said as he handed each of us our results. “You’re all clean.”

“Thank God,” Holly said and squeezed my hand.

“It’s pretty unusual, considering what you’ve been through these last few months.”

“What happens now?” Holly said.

“Well, Warnick and Springer are on the payroll, so they’ll be getting their assignments.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. We were not only a team but a family. We’d survived together and saved peoples’ lives. Now it was over?

“And us? The three of us and Warnick and Springer are a team,” I said. “We fought together.”

“I understand how you feel, Dave. But we’re in charge, now. Things will have to change.”

“Where will you send us?” Holly said. “It’s not like we can go home.”

“Mrs. Pulaski …”

“Holly, please.”

“Holly. I’d like you and Dave to step into my office.”

“I can’t leave Griffin,” Holly said. She was already on her feet in that mini-power stance I knew so well. Evie watched her—she seemed amused.

“Holly, I’ll be fine,” Griffin said.

Warnick stood. “Springer and I aren’t going anywhere at the moment.”

Holly relented and, as Pederman led us out of the conference room, glanced at Griffin. She seemed relaxed, stroking Greta’s head. We continued down the hall to the principal’s office.

“Have a seat,” Pederman said.

I remembered this office. The smell of stale coffee and Mennen Skin Bracer. The photos of countless school functions and awards banquets. I saw my old science teacher and friend Irwin Landry in one of the photos, shaking a grinning student’s hand at a science fair. The familiar steely blue eyes, hawk nose and shock of white hair. My heart ached as I thought about how he’d died. Infected. Finished off with a bullet to the brain.

The last time I’d sat in this office, the principal had warned me that I might not graduate. He’d told me “in confidence” that my mother had called him expressing her concern. Though her illness had advanced to the point where she couldn’t easily leave the house, she’d never stopped pressuring me to succeed at something.

“Let’s get those grades up, huh, Dave?” he said. “You don’t want to disappoint your mother.”

He was a prick and I hated him, but the approach worked. I’d managed to squeak by and get the cap and gown, with my dying mother as witness. Though my parents were now long dead, that was one regret in a pile of regrets I wouldn’t have to slink by with.

“So what’s this about?” I said as Holly and I sat.

Pederman smiled professionally. “Considering everything that’s happened, I get that you don’t trust me, Dave. I’m confident I can earn your trust.”

“Are we in trouble?” Holly said.

Pederman laughed. It was full and deep and made me dislike him a little less. “Far from it. Did either of you ever serve in the military? I couldn’t find anything in the files.”

“No,” I said. “Why?”

“Well, because for a couple of civilians, you’ve both proven to be more than capable under fire.”

“Thanks,” I said. Warnick must have been up front about everything that happened.

“We’ve made a number of corrections to our program. We’ve weeded out a few … uh … misfits and are rebuilding the organization. We lost a lot of good people in this operation, but I think in many ways we’re stronger. I’m sure you’ve noticed it.” He waited for us to agree.

“I guess,” Holly said.

I leaned in. “How were you able to turn this place around so fast?”

“As you know, Dave, most of us are ex-military. And the military knows how to get things done.”

He rose and came around the desk. Took a seat on the edge directly in front of us. It was awkward, but he had our attention.

“Would you consider coming to work for us?” he said.

Holly was stunned. “Wait, what?”