Machines of the Dead 2 (16 page)

The scene downstairs wasn’t a good one. Jill was pointing her weapon at Paul. Maria had her M4 trained on Jill.

Balcony Man started laughing. Not wanting to deal with more than a single issue, Jack hit the man on the back of the neck with the butt of his .45 and knocked him out.

“Jill,” he said, “put the gun away; we have more pressing concerns right now.”

Paul’s left pant leg was torn and bloody. Jill’s gun arm was steady, her eyes focused on Paul’s.

“I told you we shouldn’t have brought this crazy bitch along,” Maria said.

“Everyone relax.” Jack holstered his weapon. “Jill, put the gun away. If you shoot Paul, you’ll be killing an innocent man and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“He’s going to die miserably,” Jill said through clenched teeth. “You people want him to suffer? I’ve seen what happens.”

“So have we,” Jack said. “My wife was infected and killed. If I’d only known what I know now I could’ve saved her. We can save Paul. You have to believe me. Don’t do this.”

Maria stepped up. “I’d lower your weapon now if I were you.”

“You people are fucked up. Cruel.” Jill lowered her gun and stepped away. “Keep him the hell away from me.”

“We still got a house to clear,” Jack said, tugging on Maria’s arm, getting her mind back to the job at hand.

“Paul needs help,” she said, then faced Jill. “I’ll tell you what, how about
you
stay the hell away from us.”

“When he turns and infects someone else
, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jill said.

“How many times do we have to tell you that we can cure people? Get it through your thick skull. Do you think we’re making this shit up?”

Jill walked out of the room. Jack saw tears welling in her eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Somewhere else.”

“Let her be, Jack,” Maria said. “This place still isn’t secure.”

They made their way upstairs and looked around until they found the weapons room. As Jack had hoped, the tasers were there, along with Zaun’s sword. They zapped Paul twice, hoping it would still do the trick, then wrapped his leg in a strip of cloth.  

The prisoner was tied up and left in the trophy room. They went through the rest of the house, meeting up with Don and the others who had come in at the far end. Undead milled about here and there, but were quickly put down. What remained of Cannibal’s corpse was found inside his room of horror—a human-bone chair at the center. Three zombies were still gnawing on the big man’s flesh.

Once the house was cleared, the prisoner was brought outside. Weapons and any salvageable supplies were gathered. The weapon room was a good find, the place still stocked with plenty of guns and ammo. 

A few hours later, the snow had picked up again, covering the bodies and carnage. Gasoline was brought in and the house was lit up. The corpses outside were piled together and set afire. 

Everyone, including Jill and the prisoner, traveled back to Cliff House. Two vehicles were dispatched to the rendezvous houses to let the people know it was safe to return home.

That night, especially with no casualties taken, the people of Cliff House celebrated. Wine and alcohol flowed, food was prepared and eaten. Full bellies were aplenty. Jack was happy to see the people of Cliff House smile again. They deserved one night of escape, of living. Through his meandering about, talking with folk, getting numerous thank yous and pats on the back, he found Jill in the kitchen, alone. She was sitting in a chair, her back to him, looking out the window at the gloomy night.

“I need you to come with me,” Jack said.

Jill remained in her chair. “I heard Paul’s fine. I guess you people know what you’re talking about. The plague is curable, nothing more than tiny robots.” 

“That’s what I wanted to show you. Paul’s well. He’s in the living room, talking and having a good time.”

“Yes. Good for him . . . I saw him earlier. From a distance. He looked good.”

Jack thought about going over to her, but decided to leave her be. Some people needed time alone to figure things out. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve been through a lot; seen horrors we thought were only in books and movies. Knowledge is power and now you have more. Move forward. If you want to talk, come find me. I’ll be around.”

Jack turned and left the room.

Chapter 29

Jill heard Jack’s retreating footsteps. She almost laughed—
Jack and Jill went up
the hill . . .

She looked down at the gun in her lap, a .357 Colt revolver. Her grin fell. She had found it amongst one of the dead inmates, promptly tucking into her pants. No one had seen her take it. With the way people had been acting
, she felt she needed it. Jack, Maria . . . hell all of them were nuts.

After arriving back at the house, she finally talked to some of the others. They believed the bot story and how there was a cure, that cure being voltage, electricity. Jack, Maria and Zaun, their epic, incredible, heart-of-the-epidemic-story was true. She hadn’t doubted what they went through, but an underground bunker? Secret military experiment? The infected were curable? Jack’s plan, as improbable as it seemed at first, had worked. So after listening to the people of Cliff House and then seeing the proof of Paul’s recovery
, she had no choice but to believe everything about the three survivors.

No one but the people involved knew what she did to the girl in the woods, to Susan, and no one but the people there knew what she tried to do at Cannibal’s house with Paul. They’d kept it to themselves. They were honorable people.

She had been angry with them, hoping Paul would get sick, turn and attack them. Then she’d show them, tell them how stupid they were. But Paul got better. The guy had never even reached any visible stages of infection. How could she have become so cynical? Hoping to see someone fall ill to make a point. Hoping in that sense was not right, but hoping in the positive sense proved fatal in her world. She’d lost her whole family relying on hope. She’d made a promise never to let anyone suffer like they had.

She’d visited the infirmary after getting back to the house. Shock sticks had been made—pieces of metal hooked up to car batteries, the voltage made to equal that of the tasers. These people hadn’t laughed Jack and his friends off when they found out.
Instead, they believed and made a tool.

Jill shook with rage. She’d seen so many people die, but it was her family that pushed her over the edge, made her cold. All they needed was a little electricity. Why didn’t the government warn people? All that was said was to “remain in your homes until further notice.” There was never further notice.

Tears streamed down Jill’s cheeks. She grabbed the gun and held it. It felt so heavy. Her arm grew tired. She’d killed that poor girl, Susan. Murdered her. She’d gotten to know her, about her family, where she was from. They were even friends, right? There was no way Jill could’ve known she’d be okay after she was bitten. Up until that point, everyone that had been bitten died. Became monsters. She was doing Susan a favor.  

Jill had run into others along her journey though. She’d killed them too, knowing what was in store for them. Some had been very sick, on the brink of turning, but not all. Some looked okay, maybe a little pale, sickly, but very much alive. It was the bite marks that proved they were nothing more than dead people walking and gave her the right to end their suffering.

Murderer.

But was she? She was only using the information she had at the time. Doing what she thought was right, and by no means easy. Those people would’ve died miserably—well, all except Susan. If she’d listened to Maria, Susan could’ve been here at Cliff House, talking and laughing. Breathing.

Jill’s sadness was erased by sudden anger. How could she even think about killing herself? She needed to survive. It’s what her family would have wanted. She was a good person. Not a murderer. The government was the problem. They should’ve been on the ball.

She realized she had something important to do
, to help people. Cure people. Inform people. Use the new knowledge to combat this man-made plague.

Or she could end it all and not have to carry around the guilt she felt.   

Chapter 30

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast of deer meat, juice and coffee, Jack, Maria and Zaun packed up and set out to leave. The three survivors had sorted through the plundered bounty that had been Cannibal’s arsenal. All in all, along with the M4 Maria had already acquired during the escape from Cannibal’s, the two remaining M4 machine guns and tasers were found, along with Jack’s Mossberg 12 gauge, but not his Sig Sauer 9 mm. At least he had his original Smith and Wesson .45. He still couldn’t believe the first man he killed back at that house when he was running for his life had been using
his
.45, as if the gun truly belonged with him. Zaun and Maria grabbed a couple of Glock 9 mm’s. Maria kept, with Don’s permission of course, the Remington 750, wanting a long-range weapon in case the need arrived. A number of goodbyes were exchanged, a few tears were shared, but it was smiles all around.

Don, Paul and Duane stood outside in the driveway opposite Jack and the others. Two Polaris snowmobiles were set out, fueled up
, and ready to go.

“I can’t thank you enough for the sleds,” Jack said to Don. 

“I wish we could do more,” Don replied. “The people of Cliff House will forever be grateful to you all.” Don shook each of their hands. Paul and Duane followed suit.

“At anytime,” Don continued, “whatever happens in this world, please feel free to stop by or call upon us should you need anything.”

“Let’s hope the next time we meet,” Maria said, “this whole plague-thing is finished.”

“Amen to that,” Duane said.

Jill came from the house. She had a backpack on and looked ready to travel.

She walked up to the gathering. “Can I talk to you, Jack?”

“Sure.”

“Actually,” she said
, “I need to talk to all of you.”  She took a moment, then looked at Maria. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I did, and the way I acted.”

Maria said nothing, only nodded.

“I’ve learned a lot over the last couple of days. I have a new view on the world and I feel I have a duty to perform now. I want to help people. Spread the word about the bot-epidemic. I want to come with you guys.”

Don’s eyebrows shot up.

Jack was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say. “Don’t you want to stay here, be a part of Cliff House?”

She looked at Don and smiled. “I like it here, but it’s not for me.” To
Jack, “I need to be out there, helping people, killing the undead. The information about the plague is too important. I’ll come with you, help you guys in any way possible. And if it comes to it, I’ll go out on my own to keep spreading the cure.”

Jack turned to Maria. She shrugged. “As long as she doesn’t slow us down, and promises to do as we ask . . .”

“Fine with me,” Zaun said.

“Okay, Jill,” Jack said. “Welcome aboard.”

The girl smiled warmly, then hugged him and Maria at the same time, pulling them in tightly.

After a few more goodbyes, the group climbed onto their snowmobiles and headed down the driveway and onto the road.

Chapter 31

Cable situated himself on the second floor of a two-story strip mall that was located along the Thruway, opposite the Palisades Mall, a grand, four-story galleria. The pain was almost gone from his chest, that Zaun character did some job on him. Just two days ago, he’d been on his way north, ready to forget about Cannibal, Jack and all the others, but then something extraordinary happened.

He’d acquired a snowmobile from one of the local residences. Knowing that leaving the area was a wise decision, he headed down to the highway, aware the snowmobile would be able to get him wherever he wished to travel—of which he had no clue.

The wind was gusting, blowing drifts of snow across the road and cars. Cable hated running, especially when he had unfinished business—Jack. Zaun had beaten him fairly, but Jack hadn’t. But to stay around could prove his downfall.

Sitting there, facing north along the Thruway, Cable was startled by an explosion, one he not only heard clearly, but felt in his bones. It came from behind, down by the bridge. Interest peaked and with no destination in mind, he turned the sled around and headed south.

He stopped before reaching the overpass that ran over the Thruway just before the bridge. From his position, he was hidden from the bridge and anyone that might be there. Killing the sled’s engine, he proceeded on foot, rifle slung over his shoulder. He trudged through the snow, entered the overpasses underneath and hugged the wall, creeping along it until he reached the end.

Peering out, he saw a black SUV moving slowly across the highway. The wall of cars had been blown open, the undead pouring out. A parade of zombies was following the vehicle. He saw Jack through the passenger window. When the SUV reached the hill, it went up and he saw Maria sitting in the rear. 

It took a moment to consider the scene, and then it hit him. Jack and his companions were geniuses. No wonder the man had eluded him back at the house and in the forest. Cable had underestimated him, Zaun as well, to a degree.

They were leading the dead up the mountain, no doubt to Cannibal’s place, like the Pied Piper of legend. This was most unexpected and intriguing. He couldn’t leave now, not without seeing if this most dangerous, incredible plan was going to work. 

He headed back to his sled and then made his way up the mountain through the woods and backroads until he reached a place that allowed him a view of the Cannibal house. But it wasn’t enough, so he scrambled down through the woods, and to a position just off the road where he saw four of Cannibal’s men. They were standing around, each holding a rifle. 

Before long, a gun battle broke out, which was clearly a ruse to get the dead to follow Cannibal’s men to the house.

Cable grinned to himself, glad he made the decision to leave when he did. Looks like Cliff House was the winner. Jack and his friends were simply too interesting to leave behind. He’d never be able to forget about them, and since he had nowhere to go, he decided to make Jack and the others a part of his life, at least until he killed them or they killed him.

Now, he was approximately four miles north of the Tappan Zee Bridge, far enough to make sure his friends wouldn’t make it back to Cliff House on foot, should they choose that path. They would be taken off guard, frightened and most likely look to dig in somewhere. Maybe the mall? That would be a great hunting ground, he thought.

Cable was taking a gamble though. He had no idea when Jack and his companions would leave Cliff House or if they’d even come his way. He figured since they came from the city, they wouldn’t head back there, let alone south—so north it had to be. The Thruway was the only main artery for miles around and the easiest route. Odds were in his favor, but waiting for them might prove difficult. He had limited supplies and it was cold, his little fire keeping him warm, but if a blizzard came through, he’d be in for a tough time.

He’d wait a week, if they didn’t show, then he’d have to forget about them and move on. He remained awake throughout the day, feeling comfortable about sleeping at night, figuring no one would dare travel during that time.

He awoke early the next morning, both the military and prison conditioning his internal clock, and climbed onto the roof where he’d cleared an area, and waited.

Two hours later, he heard the sound of multiple high-pitched engines. He peered through the scope of the Browning 300 and saw the first of two snowmobiles. They were moving at a decent pace up the roadway. The noise had attracted a few undead from the area.

Each sled had two passengers. Jack’s group had three. Cable wondered if this was a different party, or maybe Jack’s group had picked up a fourth? It appeared from the type of outfits and hair whipping around from the helmets that each machine had a male and female member, though Cable could not be certain.

He had a decision to make: act, and hope these were his targets, or let them go and hope Jack and the others hadn’t come along yet. Then he saw the Samurai sword. It was strapped to a rider’s back. Excitement coursed through Cable, his fingertips igniting with electricity. His lips curled into a smile.

Now all he had to do was decide which member to pick off, and let the games begin. Zaun was riding on the back of one sled; the woman driving had to be Maria. Jack was operating the other machine, but who was behind him?

Decisions, decisions, Cable thought.

He finally decided, took aim, and fired.

Something jolted the snowmobile. Jack thought he might’ve run over a large piece of debris buried in the snow, but then the sled’s engine started smoking and sputtered to a halt.

“What happened?” Jill asked.

“I have no—” Jack began when he heard what sounded like a rifle shot. Jill was thrown from the snowmobile as if by an invisible force. Maria pulled up next to him. She was pointing to his right.

“We got a shooter,” she yelled over her sled’s idling engine.

They were easy targets, completely out in the open. Instinct took over. “Get out of here,” he yelled, frantically waving for Maria to speed off.

“Not without you,” she said. “Come on.”

Jack saw Jill’s form lying in the snow, a huge hole in the side of her helmet. The snow was reddening around it. He knew she was dead. His sled was finished. He stepped over the seat, ready to hop onto the back of Maria’s machine, Zaun having scooted up on the seat, when another shot rang out. Jack felt immense pressure in his upper thigh as he was twirled around like a rag doll and tossed onto the snowy ground, the bullet’s impact having a sledgehammer-like affect.

Pain engulfed his right leg. Looking down, he saw blood spurting from where he was hit. He looked at Maria and Zaun. They were sitting ducks, ready to be shot down like himself and Jill. “Get out of here now!”

Another gunshot sounded and a piece of exposed seat burst apart, the yellow foam cushion cascading the area. 

Zaun reached for Jack, but he was too far away. Jack saw his friend attempt to rise and get off the machine, but Maria held Zaun back with her arm.

“Get to someplace safe,” Jack yelled, blood gushing from his leg. He hoped Maria’s smarts would kick in, the woman a trained military personnel knowing that to stay where she was would mean certain death for them all. A moment later, Maria hit the gas on the sled. The tread spun, kicking up snow and covering Jack in the fluffy white stuff.  

His leg was in bad shape. He was bleeding out. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

More gunshots rang out, but Jack heard Maria and Zaun’s snowmobile, which meant it was still operational. Good.

He lay there, exposed, waiting to be finished off, but the killing shot never came. He wondered what the shooter was waiting for. He arched his neck and saw Jill’s body. Poor girl. But his sympathy quickly turned to terror when he saw the first zombie. It stopped at Jill’s corpse, knelt down, and ripped her clothing away to get at the meat. Three more quickly joined in, the zombies obviously alerted by the noise of snowmobiles and gunshots.

Reaching down, Jack pulled his .45 from its holster, the M4 still on the sled. Resting the gun on his chest, he pulled out his knife and sliced off the sleeve of his jacket and wrapped it tightly around his leg to slow the bleeding, then cut a strip of his sleeve and made a tourniquet above the wound. Maybe it’d buy him a little more time, give Maria and Zaun a chance to find the son-of-a-bitch and kill him, then get back to him. He’d like to be around long enough to see that they were safe. And even though he was losing a lot of blood, he couldn’t give up trying.

Feeling the icy cold of winter creeping into his bones, he crawled to the sled’s engine and leaned against it, feeling a modicum of security by the heavy machine. The plastic engine cover was warm, the heat a blessing, but he knew it wouldn’t last long.

Damn, he’d lost so much blood already.

Now, all he could do was make sure he remained awake, and defend himself. He’d wait for his friends to return after they took out the shooter. Deep down, he knew even if they did this
, the probability of him lasting long enough to see them again wasn’t good. But he had hope, which was about all he had left.

Movement from his left caught his attention. Jack raised his
gun arm and blew a hole in the zombie’s head. Another came from his right. He adjusted his aim and fired, missing his mark. He fired again, this time downing the thing as its brains flew from its skull.

He could do this. He could fend them off. It was better than waiting without anything to do, he thought, almost laughing. Another zombie was coming. He raised the weapon and fired, but the bullet went wide as he was attacked from behind, the stench of rot falling over him. He felt the corpse’s teeth sink into the side of
his neck. Jack brought the gun back, pressed the barrel against the thing’s head, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. The zombie fell away, dead forever this time. A warm sensation spread over his neck and he knew the zombie had broken the skin. If the leg wound didn’t kill him, maybe the bite would.

The zombie that had been coming for him turned and joined the others that were eating Jill. He laughed, enjoying the bit of luck that finally swung his way. Exhausted, he lay back, breathing hard. He wasn’t ready to leave this world, but sometimes things just didn’t go as expected. 

Another zombie was walking toward him. Jack smiled. He raised the .45 and fired.

The End

(or is it?)

www.severedpress.com

Read on for a free sample of Feral by Matt Serafini