Siege (44 page)

“When did she tell you this?”

“Last night. In our dreams,” the little boy answered. “She’s pretty.”

This was so like Jenni. She was making sure the kids were fine and that he was, too. He laughed, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “Oh, Loca…”

Then the kids were leaping on him, hugging him, kissing him and he held them tight.

“Daddy One! Daddy One,” they chanted.

Juan felt the shadow of pain lift from him and he threw back his head and laughed. He was so full of love he felt as if it must be bursting out of him. He leaped to his feet and danced around with glee, the kids dangling off of him.

Somewhere, he knew Jenni was smiling down on them.

3. The Wickedest Woman in Texas Returns

Patting her hair once more, the Senator regarded her image in the mirror. Armed with a teasing comb and the best hairspray on the market, she had manipulated her blond hair into a bubble of perfectly coiffed golden locks. Spritzing more hairspray onto her bouffant, she closed her heavily made up eyes, complete with false eyelashes, and enjoyed the fragrance of the spray as it fell in tiny drops over her hair and face.

Opening her eyes again, she studied her reflection in the soft, white glow of the chandelier over her head and smiled. It was her best smile. Her trademark. The pearly white freshly scrubbed teeth glistened between her bright pink lips. Perfect.

Tilting her head, she fastened diamond and pearl earrings to her ears as the tranquil sounds of Frank Sinatra wafted in from the intercom. At least Blanche had the decency to keep some good music in her old mansion.

Walking away from the vanity, she studied herself in the full length gilded mirror in Blanche’s enormous closet and turned one way then the other. The dark pink suit looked perfect and the gold sling back heels were very nice. Her nails on her fingertips and toes were freshly polished. Nearly three weeks ago she had awakened to utter silence in that dank old museum and realized the chickenshits had run off without her. Sitting up she had studied the room while listening for sounds of any undead in the building. At least the assholes had been decent enough to shut the door behind them.

“Fuckers,” she had hissed, then reached down and picked up her hunting rifle.

Now it was propped on a chair behind her. She had used it a few times since that day. After making sure that the idiots had really run off without her, she had slipped off the safety, slung her bag with the portable radio inside it over one shoulder, and walked into the morning air. Comfortable with the hunting rifle, she was a Texas girl after all, she had taken a deep breath as she walked to steady her nerves. If she remembered correctly, she had downed about five zombies before commandeering a truck standing empty in the middle of the road with the keys still in the ignition. It had taken a few tries to get the engine to turn over. She knew she had been lucky on that point. The zombies banging on the windows had been damned determined.

“Oh, shit,” she now muttered and fussed with the collar of the jacket. The last few weeks had been hard. She had even cried once or twice. She hated not being able to fix her hair and makeup. Worse yet, forced to eat convenience store junk food, she had often been sick to her stomach. Sticking to back roads, she had slowly found her way back here to Blanche’s mansion.

When she had driven up, she had found the front door open and dried bits of bone and flesh on the doorstep. No zombies had been around and she had stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Quickly searching the house, she found nothing dead and smelly to greet her.

The water had been on, but there had been no electricity. Checking the breaker box, she had seen that the main one had flipped. In a few seconds, the mansion was lit up and the air conditioning switched on. What had been even nicer, was that on her way to the mansion she had found a car stalled off the side of the road, full of supplies. It looked like someone had been fully stocked and making a run for safety then their car had broken down. Since there was something disgusting and dead on the doorstep, she wondered if that was the driver. Or maybe, Blanche. Oh, well.

Going over to Blanche’s dresser, she pulled on a nice string of pearls and studied her reflection in another mirror.

Yes, much better.

Frowning as the sound of zombies moaning seemed to grow louder, she walked over and turned up the music. She really had no time to deal with them and they were definitely not getting in past the heavy doors and reinforced glass.

Feeling pleased with herself, she went downstairs and into the kitchen. Her dinner of rosemary chicken was just about done and she inhaled the rich fragrance. Shooting that little shit’s head off had been fun, but eating it would be so much better. There was quite a few wild chickens now and she didn’t think she’d be starving any time soon. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she leaned against the counter and watched the decaying remains of what looked like a Mexican field worker bang on the kitchen window. She knew there was no way he was getting in, so she lifted her glass and toasted him.

Stupid spics. Even dead they were annoying.

For a moment she missed Raleigh chiding her for her “bias.” Well, he was gone, that little annoying faggot, and she was still here. Now that a few days had passed and she was feeling more sure of herself, her thoughts were once more turning to the fort. Slowly, she was making plans. Plans that would restore her to where she needed to be. Smiling, she turned her back on the moaning zombie and sipped her wine. 4. The March of the Dead

Rune slept in the hunter blind he had discovered off a back road. His parked bike was right next to the trap door and his hand grenades were in the bag next to him. The ramshackle wood blind was sturdy enough for his temporary needs, but the canvas roof was torn and not much protection from the wind and light rain. He was huddled up against the wall, snoring lightly when he was awakened by a simple touch on his knee. Waking up with a start, he drew his Glock and aimed it at the figure kneeling next to him. The trap door was still shut and how the stranger next to him had entered the blind was a mystery.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

There was no zombie moan in response. The dark figure didn’t even move.

With his other hand, he lifted his Maglite flashlight and flicked it on. A pretty face with huge dark eyes was illuminated by the harsh white light.

“Jenni!”

“Hey, Rune.”

Rune lowered his gun slowly, his hand beginning to tremble. He swallowed hard, then said, “Sorry.”

She rolled her shoulders under her red sweater. Her dark hair framed her face. “I’m okay with it.”

“You go out good?”

“Hell, yeah! I went out in style! I saved a bunch of people I love. It was good. I’m proud of how I went out!” Jenni grinned with satisfaction.

“Good for you. You went out a warrior. Good for you,” Rune commended her proudly. It was a damn shame she had crossed over, but he has always thought she was something special.

He began to reholster his Glock, but she held out her hand, her smile fading.

“Don’t. You need that. In fact, you need to get moving,” Jenni urged him.

“Shit. What’s going on?”

“They’re coming out of the east. They started walking this way a few weeks ago. They’ve grown in number. You have to warn the fort.”

“Damn, Jenni, that don’t sound good!”

“You need to go now.” Jenni was beginning to blur around the edges. Rune fought to keep his teeth from chattering as the air around him grew colder. That she had appeared so realistically was impressive, but she was drawing all the energy from the air around him.

“I’m going,” he answered.

Jenni didn’t even answer. She was simply gone.

Whipping the trap door open, Rune dropped his motorcycle bags down onto the ground next the bike. It looked clear under the blind. Heaving his bag of grenades onto his shoulder, he swung his legs down over the ladder.

Faint moans made his skin crawl.

A gray, badly chewed hand reached out to grip his boot. A badly mutilated head missing large portions of its scalp and hair, drew close to his ankle, the rancid mouth of the zombie opening wide. Rune shot it and it fell away.

“Where the fuck were you?”

He kept his gun securely in one hand and dropped to the ground. He swung around in a circle and didn’t see anymore dead things near him. Working quickly, he secured the motorcycle bags onto the bike. A few figures were struggling out of the trees off to his right. They moved slowly, but when they saw him their moans grew louder. The answering moans of what sounded like thousands of zombies made Runes’ bowels heave.

Swinging his leg over his bike, he quickly gunned the engine. He didn’t want to do it, but he turned on the headlight anyway. The bright light washed over the countless zombies filling hillside and valley.

“Shit!”

Pulling around, Rune raced the bike up the path, away from the shambling dead. His heart was beating fast in his chest and the Glock felt slippery in his moist hand. A few zombies were moving through the brush and reached out for him as he zoomed by. None were close enough to snag him, but their stench was rancid.

The night was full of the moans of the dead and Rune prayed hard as he made his way up the dirt path. He couldn’t go as fast as he liked and the path was nearly overgrown in a few sections.

He was beginning to fear he was lost when he saw Jenni standing near the path. The light sluiced right through her as she urgently pointed he should swerve to his left. It was not the way from which he had originally come from, but he obeyed. The new path led him up a hill away and was not easy going. Another rider may not have been able to traverse the terrain, but he managed to reach the top, breaking through a line of trees around a stately old house.

Looking behind him, the moonlight illuminated the countless zombies filling the world below. His original path would have led him straight into them. Jenni had saved him.

Yanking on his gloves and helmet, he looked around and saw a long drive leading down to a country road. It was clear of the undead. Feeling like Paul Revere, he gunned the engine and roared off toward the fort. Too bad he wasn’t wasn’t going to get to deliver the same message. Instead, he was going to have to tell them the zombies were coming.
5. The Long March Into The West

For weeks the undead had been making a long trek toward the west of Texas.

It had all begun when a handful of zombies ignored the unexpected feast in a military truck trying to break through I-35 and wandered after an escaping truck lumbering up a hill. The fifteen zombies had walked determinedly after the truck, stumbling and struggling over miles of fields and roads.

The original fifteen swelled in number as they walked through the south side of Fort Worth, then dead towns and farms. Some were caught in fences and languished there until the crows plucked out their eyes and vultures ate their flesh. Others toppled off overpasses onto the streets below, their heads cracking open and rendering them finally, truly dead. A tornado blew through their ranks one dark stormy night, sucking a large chunk of their numbers into the air and pulling them apart. In the aftermath, bits of the undead littered a swath of countryside a mile long. Months of rot, decay and exposure had slowed the undead down. Sometimes they would find the living and bombard their havens until they either broke in or moved on.

Slowly, resolutely, the undead wandered into the west toward the fort.

1. The Dead Are Coming

Rune was impressed by the changes in the fort as he drove up the country road. It looked more like a fort than ever before.

“They have catapults,” he murmured, impressed.

They would need them.

A lot of the outskirts of the town had been razzed to the ground. The debris was gone and Rune bet the people in the fort were using it as building supplies or weapons. The road he traveled on had new roadsigns. They were clear directions on how to safely approach the fort. Rune noted some nasty looking traps along the way. The zombies couldn’t read or think, so he could see how the traps could be very effective.

When he finally reached the gated entrance, he was immediately let in by the guards who recognized him. He was exhausted and hungry, but he needed to let the fort leaders know what was going on. Ken and Lenore were the ones who began to check him out for bites and it was good to see familiar faces.

“Can you let the Big Boss and Nerit know I need to speak to them right away?” Rune asked Lenore.

“Sure thing,” she answered and pulled out her walkie-talkie.

“Is Dale still around? And Maddie?”

“Yeah, they’re still here,” Ken answered, his smile brightening at the mention of Dale. “It’s been kinda rough since you left. A lot of people died. But a lot of people also came to join us.”

“Fort grew in other ways, too.” Rune motioned with his head toward an outgoing helicopter.

“You have no idea,” Ken answered.

“Go on in, Rune. They’ll meet you in Travis’ office,” Lenore instructed.

“Thanks. See you guys around.”

Despite all the changes to the fort, Rune found his way back into the old familiar territory of the hotel. There were definitely new people around and when Maddie spotted him, he got an enormous hug. Politely disengaging from her, he hurried past Peggy and Eric discussing something about the front doors. Bill and Curtis greeted him as they exited the communication center and Dale gave him thumbs up from where he was playing with some little kids.

It was strange to be among the living after being around the dead for so long. But what was even stranger was the disconcerting lack of ghosts. Before, the fort had seemed full of spirits. Now, he didn’t sense any. But then again, the deadlands had been strangely quiet of spirits as well. Something had changed. Some event had allowed the spirits to start moving on again. Maybe it was the fort. Or something else. But the energy around him was changing.