Dying Days 6 (12 page)

If she could find one.

The only people moving on the highway were already dead and she knew the advanced zombie was invisible to them. She was the meal running around like she was ringing a dinner bell, getting them all excited to pursue in their creepy, slow pace.

Bernie had gotten maybe half a mile away. She looked back to see he was still in pursuit but he'd fallen back for some reason, but was still in sight. If she could only increase her pace and find somewhere to hide...

There was nowhere to hide. The zombie could sense her presence and he'd find her soon enough. She was winded and had to slow her pace to a crawl and catch her breath but it was so hard and she was so tired and what did it even matter at this point?

She saw the overturned truck on the highway ahead and used it as a landmark to get to before she collapsed. Maybe she could find a weapon inside or some help.

Bernie was glad no one was moving around inside, dead or undead, and she collapsed onto a pile of furniture as soon as she got inside and the truck blocked the unrelenting sun from her body. It felt like it was a hundred degrees inside but it was better than nothing.

She took a few deep breaths and forced herself to get up, using the pile of furniture to finally stand. When she turned she saw the zombie was running right at her, apparently done with this cat and mouse game and now coming in for the kill.

Bernie screamed and turned, running into the dark truck. She had nowhere to go but she wasn't going to stand there and get run over.

At the back of the truck was an overturned stack of wooden chairs, most broken now. She scrambled through the mess to find a sharp chair leg. Anything to use as a weapon against the monster.

"I see you've found us a quiet, romantic spot," the zombie said, his form blocking out some of the light. "If we had more time, I'd go find us a radio. Maybe play a little Barry White. Get us in the mood."

Bernie could feel the truck slightly vibrate and knew he was walking slowly into the truck.

None of the pieces were sharp or thick enough. She needed a stake to impale the bastard. This was her last stand.

As she yanked on a broken leg down in the pile, it came loose and the chairs collapsed, forcing her back and closer to the zombie.

Bernie turned. If she was going to die it would be looking the zombie in the eye instead of being setup from behind.

Then she saw the shotgun, leaning against a table. A severed hand and arm was still attached to it and at first she didn't want to touch it, but what else could she do?

The zombie stopped walking, now halfway into the truck. He had his arms up and to the side, as if he were praying. Bernie was reminded of a preacher giving a sermon for some reason.

"Would you like to dance before you die?" the zombie asked.

"I'd much rather see you die," Bernie said and lifted the shotgun, intent on sweeping the severed limb away and hoping the weapon was loaded. Maybe she could bluff her way out of the truck and the zombie would think she was too much of a pain to continue to chase.

"Do you think a bullet can hurt me?" the zombie asked.

Bernie didn't know. What if he was beyond pain and suffering? What if he was immortal and couldn't be stopped?

"I think I need to find out," Bernie said and yanked at the hand on the shotgun.

It didn't move, stiff and welded to the shotgun.

Bernie panicked and almost dropped the weapon, using her free hand to pull on the arm but it wasn't going to budge.

The zombie began to laugh.

She was about to bang the shotgun against the wall but thought better of it. What if she broke it in her panic or it fired the only shell loaded and she screwed herself?

The zombie stepped closer and put a hand out. Even though it was dark, she could imagine the grin on his face as he spoke.

"Please, let me have it. You'll shoot your eye out. Those things aren't toys, you know," the zombie said.

Bernie took two steps back but she couldn't get any farther away with the chairs behind her. She was afraid she'd fall back and lose grip on the shotgun, too.

"You do know if I kill you but don't destroy anything vital, you can someday rise again and join me in conquering the world, right? A king needs a queen. We could sit on thrones made of the bones of our enemies. Nations would bow down to us," the zombie said and stepped closer.

"I'd rather kill myself than have anything to do with you," Bernie said.

"You really have no choice. I'm going to torture and kill you slowly because you're so tough. We'll see how strong you are when I begin peeling back the layers of skin on your limbs. I wonder how long you'll scream," the zombie said and his hand was inches away from the shotgun.

This close Bernie could see the hateful gleam in his eyes.

She hooked her finger behind the rotting digit on the trigger, lifted the gun to head level and managed to pull. The sound of the cracking finger was music to her ears, almost as much as the discharge of the shotgun.

The blast was deafening in the enclosed truck and Bernie dropped the shotgun and covered her ringing ears too late.

The zombie's headless body stood for a few seconds before it dropped forward and fell into the pile of chairs.

Chapter Sixteen

Her baby was close. She couldn't get the exact location but she'd only been this close to him when giving birth. It felt like forever ago she'd been in that diner.

Jacksonville looked like a war had been fought, the battle destroying street by street.

Her dad, who'd served in the Marines alongside a few of the Talbot men on her mom's side, often called poverty-stricken cities and ghetto locations 'downtown Beirut' and Darlene never understood exactly what he meant. She did right now, because she felt like she was on foreign soil or on a war movie set.

If the United States Armed Forces had held their ground and made a stand in Jacksonville, she couldn't tell which side had won. There was dried blood and bones here and there but she didn't see tell-tale signs of a stand like command center tents, military vehicles or anything other than a ruined city. The wildlife was beginning to take over and out of the corner of her eye she saw a deer run across the road.

The weeds were breaking through the sidewalks and streets. Darlene could imagine how this silent scene would look weeks, months and years from now. She looked up, expecting to see the high-rises leaning down, ready to topple.

Scattered zombies roamed the streets and sidewalks, sometimes tripping over the debris. If it wasn't for the fact they were former people now looking to kill other people, she would've found their stumbling quite amusing.

Despite her lack of sleep and food, Darlene was still feeling energetic and decided to explore some of the buildings in the area since she couldn't get a perfect bearing on where her son was.

She walked up what was once Laura Street, now a series of demolished buildings and where a lot of bloodshed had occurred. There was the faint smell of rotting bodies mixed in with the rubble, and, as she approached what was once a grand library, she saw a pile of blackened bones in a massive open grave strung out between the library and the nearby park.

Darlene stared at the ruined lives for too long before pulling her eyes away to stare at the gaping wound in the library. It looked like something had detonated in the lobby. The doors and front of the building were shattered and the second level drooped down slightly. Any day now the weight of the structure would be pushed down by gravity and fed to the pile of burnt bodies on the street.

There was no one inside.

Darlene was stunned she'd only been thinking about seeing if survivors were holed up inside when the answer hit her: she'd scanned for people and found no one alive.

A zombie walked within inches of her position, startling Darlene. She pushed the rotting corpse and it tripped over some of the bones and fell face-first into the pile.

Darlene walked slowly down the street, looking around at the buildings and concentrating to see if what she'd done was a fluke or if it really worked.

She passed a church on her right, a bookstore on her left.

The next building she scanned wasn't empty, the one right after the church. Darlene looked up and concentrated on each floor as she went.

Several people were inside but only one was really at full health. A man. Darlene found him on the eleventh floor, surrounded by tortured men and women. What was he doing? Saving or killing them?

Darlene needed to find out.

She ran across the street and entered through the broken ancient glass doors of the building and into a foyer.

The bank of elevators on her left was closed. The suite to the right had been ransacked. Darlene found a stairway door to the rear of the foyer and ignored the rotting body on the floor to the side.

Darlene opened the door, her Desert Eagle aiming in front of her. She turned on her flashlight, expecting something to jump out at her. Nothing moved in the dark stairwell.

She walked to the third floor landing and stopped.

There were zombies inside. Dozens of them, all ready to pounce if someone opened the door. Way more than would've been trapped on the floor when this started.

Darlene concentrated and could figure out a few basic facts before her head began to hurt and she stopped concentrating. There was a room just off the door and the zombies couldn't actually enter it. A partition or gate had been erected. Whoever used this area knew what they were doing. They'd add zombies to the floor without getting bitten themselves but Darlene didn't know what for. Who would collect zombies?

She could feel several more zombies on other floors, trapped and moving but not a threat unless you were foolish enough to open the door to the floor and release them.

Darlene continued up, taking each step slowly so she didn't make any noise. The stairwell echoed with each scuffed slide of her foot and she didn't want to announce her approach to anyone that was listening.

By the time she got to the right door, sure the human was on the other side, she took a deep breath.

Human? I called him a human as if he was different from me
, Darlene thought.
What is wrong with me? Am I so far gone I don't even consider myself human anymore?

Darlene cleared her mind of negative thoughts and focused on the path ahead.

She could feel a second presence once she opened the stairwell door to the eleventh floor. Two living, breathing people close to one another.

Darlene wanted to call out but decided not to. She could feel herself changing by the minute and didn't want to chance anyone else would notice a physical change now.

The group of survivors she'd had to run away from had been clued in only because of zombies ignoring her. Darlene stopped and checked the floor for anyone other than the two survivors.

No zombies on the floor. It was an office and it looked recently used and clean.

Maybe she could fake her way through an encounter with people and see what their deal was. She decided calling out would get her shot, so she crept down the hall, closing the door quietly behind her.

To her left was a break room, neat and clean. She saw a pile of canned vegetables stacked on the table and enough napkins, plates and paper towels to last a lifetime.

A hallway to the bathrooms on her right was ignored because Darlene knew no one was down that way. She was starting to get good at using this power, whatever it really was, and she didn't need to concentrate so hard after even a few minutes of using it.

When she entered the main area of the office, she saw the piles of clothing, jewelry and shoes in stacks on the secretary desk and the floor around it. Someone had been shopping.

Darlene, still letting her power and her weapon lead the way, moved silently down the carpeted area and around the desk, checking the open offices as she moved.

Moving forward she went down another short hallway, passing what must've been the copier room but was now overflowing with supplies.

The door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, and she could hear muffled talking now.

Darlene went to the door. Here were the two people, arguing.

She threw caution to the wind and kicked open the door, ready to pull the trigger or at least act like she was going to.