The Fall (Book 2): Dead Will Rise (21 page)

She dipped a hand into her pouch, pulled a familiar sphere from it, and threw. The distant sound of breaking glass was followed by the grating shuffle of feet. Like the bow wave of a ship, zombies moved away from their meals to avoid the painful smell of the ammonia grenade.

Though all three scouts wore heavy leather coats with thick armor on the forearms, none carried shields. They had them—their motorcycles had a slot next to the rear wheel to store them—but apparently this threat wasn't bad enough to warrant their use.

Kell thought it a dangerously vain decision until the first zombie reached Nicole. The tall woman put her forearm out, allowing the ghoul to grab it with seeking claws. With perfect timing, she spun the weapon up and over, a short arc carrying it cleanly down atop the zombie's skull.

The head split down to eye level. She pulled sharply back as the zombie fell, weighted blade screeching against bone as it came free. Nicole moved easily, almost casually.

“Here they come,” she said, bracing herself. Kell did the same.

The scouts read the battlefield well; the scattered bodies kept the oncoming swarm from moving quickly or in groups. They came in small clusters, and it wasn't until the fourth such group that Kell had to do more than watch.

Juel to his left, Scotty to his right, two undead shambled wide around to come straight at him. The urge to move forward and into the fray was strong, fed by years of doing the work on his own. Instead, he brought the shield up hard and fast, slamming the thin metal into the zombie's hands. The timing of his swing was off, blade coming down to skitter across the side of the zombie's face. The thing had no reaction to losing its ear and most of the flesh from the cheekbone back. It pushed on his shield, forcing him to stagger back a step.

The second zombie tried to move in, but Scotty took it from the side. His blade didn't miss, weighted blade making easy work. Kell couldn't quite shake his own attacker, who had hooked his fingers over the top edge of his shield and held on with enough force to bow the metal. After several seconds of trying—and warning Scotty off from any attempt to help, afraid he'd stumble into the path of his friend's weapon—Kell tried a new tactic.

Instead of pushing, he pulled, down and toward himself. It was risky, as the bottom edge of the shield was sharpened, but the pull did the job; the zombie was yanked forward. Kell used his reach well, whipping the machete upward, wide point exploding into the soft underside of its jaw. It took a slight wiggle to get the blade in, then he pushed again, straightened his arm, and changed the direction of the blow.

The machete twisted and switched from vertical to horizontal as it sheared flesh, slipping between the vertebrae. The zombie dropped, nearly ripping the handle from his fingers. It would have, had he not slipped the attached nylon cord around his wrist.

Glimmers of artificial light danced as they fought, blades rising and falling in fluid rhythm. Just as it was on the staircase of an abandoned motel—it seemed forever ago to him—the act of killing was self-reinforcing. Every body on the ground before them made adding to the total easier. The next zombie coming at Kell tripped over the body of the last two. This time Kell ducked and raised the shield at an angle, absorbing much of the impact and stopping the momentum of the falling body long enough for Scotty to step in and carefully strike.

“Back up!” Nicole shouted. “New Breed!”

Kell looked on in horror as several small groups of zombies came in from the sides of the road, appearing like ghosts from the shadowed treeline. They had avoided the tangle of corpses by ignoring them completely, an act Kell would have called impossible six months before.

Three of them pushed between Kell and Juel, forcing him and Scotty to break backward and to the outside of the SUV, away from the rest of the group. Everyone else managed to form a tight circle, all facing outward, as another seven or eight New Breed slowly moved around them. Kell saw the intelligence in those dead eyes, the stalking brilliance of a hungry wolf. They watched, analyzed.

Then the closest New Breed lunged at him, forcing Kell to jump back several feet. The SUV was directly to his left, obscuring his view of the rest of the group. Scotty drifted to the right, making room as the three enemies moved in for the kill.

Screaming wordlessly, Scotty surged forward, catching the lead enemy by surprise as he bashed it in the face with his shield in an upward swing. The thing didn't like that at all, a rictus of pain on its face as it tried to fend off the attack with its hands.

Its fingers caught the bottom of the shield as Scotty finished his swing, and with a brutal shove the man sliced through every one of them, lodging his shield in the zombie's abdomen. Undeterred, the zombie wrapped its arms around the repurposed stop sign, stumpy hands strong as it pulled Scotty to the ground.

“No!” Kell screamed, trying desperately to find an opening to strike. The straps holding Scotty's shield to his arm kept him from untangling himself, the act made more difficult by the need to avoid the snapping jaws of the enemy only inches from his face. This was complicated somewhat by the other two undead, both trying scramble past the writhing pair on the ground. For the moment they only had eyes for Kell, but as soon as they realized Scotty was easy prey, that would change.

Moving forward, Kell stood astride them. His long legs allowed just enough room to stand over the pair. “Scotty, push!” Kell said. Thankfully the command was enough; Scotty shoved hard, pushing himself away to give Kell room to work. Tangled as he was, there was no way for the other man to bring his own weapon to bear.

Kell bent at the waist and slid his blade across the throat of the zombie beneath his friend. Without being told, Scotty threw his weight forward, shield slamming into the machete. The blade drove through the neck and into the earth below, torn from Kell's fingers. The force of it shifted his balance to the front foot, and rather than fall bonelessly, he pushed off and turned the momentum into a forward roll.

Though complicated by his shield, Kell came up swinging, bashing his shield into the closest zombie. He hit harder than intended, the forearm strap breaking completely off. As the ghoul staggered back, the sheet of metal flapped like a wing, the hand strap the only thing keeping it from flying away.

Cursing, Kell shook off the shield, useless now that he could barely hold onto it. Fear sent his heart racing; two undead before him and no weapons. New Breed, at that. There would be no simple misdirection to fool them while he took advantage.

The pair came at him in a coordinated attack. As much as they could in the space available, they hit him from two sides. Fingers tore at his right wrist as he blocked with it, the zombie's jaws clamping down on the sleeve of his coat. The dry snapping of splintered teeth followed; someone had learned about the hard plastic disks sewn into the lining.

Kell's left hand was twisted up in the tattered remains of a shirt and tie, fist hard against the other zombie's neck. The position gave him no leverage to work with, but did make it impossible for the thing to do more than claw ineffectively at his armored coat. He was staring in its eyes when the zombie on his right let go of him completely.

Startled, Kell shifted his attention, which was when the second zombie grabbed his arm tight and dropped. He managed to keep a death grip on the thing's necktie as it took him to the ground, a conscious effort, but throwing his free arm over his face was luck with a dash of instinct. Good instinct; a moment later the first zombie was on him again, this time in a better position. Only the coat kept him from being mauled in a heartbeat, and even that wouldn't last. Sooner or later one of the attacks would slip through and get his face, and he would lose an eye or worse.

Panic went from the careful inspiration for survival he'd always used it as to full-blown alarm bells clanging against the inside of his skull. If he let go of the one he held, it would attack him. Maybe Scotty. But without both arms, he didn't stand a chance against the other.

And the damn things were strong. Held tight by the neck, the zombie had its entire body to work through. It had learned it couldn't tear through the heavy fabric of the coat or the overlapping plastic scales beneath, so it began to beat on his arm, slamming fists into his muscles with brutal power. The strength of it amazed him as much as the calculation behind the move. The zombie was light-years beyond its less intelligent brethren.

Kell finally managed to get a grip on the shirt of the zombie snapping at his face. His elbow lashed out, not trying to throw the thing so much as trap his bent arm against it to hold it still. It was like fighting a tornado, and cost him; a blinding flash of pain seared up his neck and across the lower part of his jaw, warm wetness coursing down. The smell of fresh blood sent both zombies into a frenzy, redoubling their struggle.

Risking his eyes, Kell glanced at the ravening zombie atop him. With a silent prayer he pushed with everything he had, rocking the beast back. As it lunged his fingers found its throat, digging in the stiff flesh with vice-like strength. He felt tissue give way, crunching and collapsing, and for a few seconds he managed to hold the damn thing still.

Heedless of the damage, the zombie pushed forward, claws raking the sleeve of Kell's coat. Ravaged, dead hands gripped the fabric, pulling the zombie tighter against his grip. Its fingers crept closer to his face, as inexorable as the rising tide. His muscles burned, arms going numb, but from a deeper well of strength than he knew existed, Kell flexed.

His back screamed at him to stop, knots forming, spine creaking, but he didn't listen. Kell bent in an arch, head and feet holding him in a half-circle away from the ground. The weight of the zombie tangled against him was too much. His legs began to shake, the joint between pelvis and spine started to give. Still, those extra few seconds were time alive, not being shredded by the hands
just
out of reach of his face.

Though their place beside the car was dimmer than the rest of the killing field lit by the headlights, he couldn't miss the dull gleam of metal as it passed over his eyes. A hollow thunk followed by the quiet squelch of a weapon being pulled from flesh, and the snarling mass atop him was instantly still. A second glitter of metal, and the zombie on his left arm also went from life-threatening to lifeless, just another feature of the landscape of dead bodies.

“Thanks,” Kell said in a groaning pant.

“No problem,” Scotty replied, leaning on the spear.

The rest of the team was in better shape; though the fight seemed to last a thousand years to Kell, everyone else cleaned up their opponents quickly and with minimum fuss.

The wave of New Breed was the last of them. Somehow they had compelled their less-intelligent brothers to move toward certain death, acting as a distraction while they hit the group from the sides. As human strategies went, it wasn't the best piece of warfare imaginable. That a group of dead men were capable of thinking it up sent shivers down his spine.

There wasn't time for a deep postmortem, but between the seven of them dragging bodies out of the way to make a path through, they saw enough details to raise many more questions. The bodies of the recently living—each getting a nice dose of head trauma for safety's sake—were different than most of the people Kell knew. For one, there were no obvious scars on any of them. Among survivors injury was common. Scars were notable only by their absence.

More curious, the bodies were what Kell, fan of Frank Herbert and his Fremen, thought of as water-fat. The corpses could have been plucked from the world as it was two years before, when people could buy a day's calories for five dollars at any drive-thru. Only two had any armor at all, and those clearly military men. The rest could have dressed for a day at the park rather than a trip through the wasteland of America.

The source of the bodies was plain; a large school bus had overturned. A section of highway was missing close by, a neat half-circle simply vanished, the soil beneath it gone. Moving at speed and driving over a six-foot gap in the road, it was no surprise the thing had tipped.

“Bad luck they happened to hit a swarm when they climbed out of the bus,” Nicole observed. “Though if they'd been this way before they would have known how zombies cluster on well-traveled roads, especially around bridges.”

Kell nodded to the missing section of road. “Lucky we didn't hit that,” he said.

Nicole grimaced. “Not really. If we got here first, you might have seen the paint where we marked the road.”

Uncomprehending, Kell stared at her. Then the light went on. “It was a trap?”

Nicole nodded. “Oh, yeah. Why do you think we drive in the middle of the road? Over the months we've been out here, the girls and I have set a lot of them. Dig out a nice cavity beneath the road, and if you're lucky when you're being chased, it'll hold the weight of you and your bike. Chances are whoever you have on your ass is driving something a lot heavier.”

“I want to be disturbed by that,” Kell said, shaking his head ruefully. “But it probably saved us from running into a bus full of people...”

With a sad smile, she clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. I'm not happy about it either. I had nothing against these folks. Still, look at them. Don't look starved to me. Seem like...I don't know, I can't put my finger on it.”

“Tourists,” Kell said. “They look like tourists. People in a strange land, everything new and weird.”

She nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, that feels right. Which begs the question, where did they come from? I mean, not many survivors out there who haven't been in the shit for the last few years, you know?”

“I couldn't begin to guess,” Kell said. “Feels familiar, though. Second—no, third—time lately we've seen strangers in places they shouldn't be.”

“Can't be coincidence. They've got to be related.”

“I think so too,” Kell said. “But we'll have to worry about it later. We should get going, unless you want to go through and spike every one of these bodies. Some of them are going to be rising soon.”

Once past the bridge they continued for another hundred miles. By then even the scouts were too exhausted to go much further. As they had been told, Juel peeled off from the pack, leading them down an overgrown side road Kell would have sworn wasn't there. Dense vegetation brushed the car, but only for a few hundred feet, when the way forward opened into a clearing in the woods. Blackened trees stood at the edges amid the fallen husks of many others. The center had burned to ash long before, leaving a huge open area closed off nearly all the way around.

“Welcome to the campground,” Juel said. “It's not much, but it's safe. Mostly.”

A few minutes later, Nicole and Emilia returned, pushing their motorcycles through the narrow gap in the trees. “We'll rest for four or five hours,” Nicole said, removing her pack from the bike. “We should make it where we're going in a few hours if the roads are clear.”

Chris, who was leaning against the SUV drinking out of his canteen, asked, “Where are we going, exactly? Will was...vague.”

Stifling a yawn, Nicole pointed at Kell. “Ask him. I've been there before, but I have no clue what the place is.”

A significant look passed between Kell and Kate, who paused in the process of waking Scotty up. That glance said a hundred things at once; she cautioned him with it, warned him to consider the repercussions.

Scotty stumbled out of the car, rubbing a hand over his forehead and down his face. “We're stopped? Are we there yet?”

“Ask me again and we'll turn this car around,” Kell said, amused.

“What did she mean, ask you?” Chris asked. “We agreed to come because you told us you needed people you can trust. If you know something we don't, maybe you should share with the rest of the class.”

Kell looked over at the scouts, now three bodies bundled up in sleeping bags. Not far away at all, in fact too close for the rapidly vanishing shred of comfort he still possessed. “All right,” he said, resigning himself to it. “Follow me. Kate, will you keep watch, please?”

She nodded, squeezing his arm as she walked past to stand guard. It was a small thing, but from her as good as a hug. She might disagree with his choice, but once he'd made it she would, as always, support him. Much like a look, touch conveyed a variety of messages.

The three men ambled to a tangle of fallen trees on the other side of the clearing. There was an almost fae quality to them, the ancient wood like bare bones among the moss and greenery slowly enveloping them. He sat wearily and warily, tired to his core in every way.

He sat with elbows on his knees, hands dangling in the air. His gloves and jacket, brand new only a day ago, were scored and torn. Pieces of black plastic gleamed through the rents, evidence of the latest of too many close calls.

“I almost died last night,” Kell said. “It's funny, but for a while I was starting to get used to that. I wasn’t afraid to die.” He looked up at Chris and Scotty, saw the curiosity in their faces. “I nearly died, and Scotty with me, and I'm ashamed he almost lost his life for someone he doesn't really know.”

As he did with Andrea, he told them the truth. There was less detail this time, by necessity; they had to get some sleep. For a solid ten minutes he spoke, explaining the major details of who he was and what they would find at the research facility where his work was hopefully still intact.

Neither man said a word the entire time, never interrupting. When he finished, it was Scotty who broke the silence that followed.

“Did you know something like this would happen? When you were working on this thing?”

Kell sighed. “I knew it could. I warned them over and over again. I told them it wasn't ready. But they didn't listen. The results were too good to wait for. A friend of mine told me it wasn't my fault what other men did with Chimera, and she was right. I did everything short of burning down my lab, and even that wouldn't have worked at the end. They took their samples long before I knew about it.”

Chris leaned forward. “But you still feel responsible.”

Kell nodded. “Yeah. It's easy to understand logically that I didn't cause all this, but there's no off switch for the guilt. Honestly, I can't blame you guys if you're pissed. All I ask is to get through this mission, to see if there's any hope I can salvage work from this place we're going. I just want to do what I can to fix things.”

“You know,” Scotty said angrily, “it's more that you kept this secret from us. We followed you, man. We had your back. You trusted me with your life, but not with this?”

“Telling you this
is
trusting you with my life,” Kell said with a sad smile. “I don't doubt there are people out there who'd kill me for my part in it.”

Chris stood, pacing. “Maybe it's just me, but I can't see it. I mean, I believe you're telling the truth. But I don't think anyone who knows you would really care. I've seen people die, people I care about ripped apart in front of me. When I think about that, after what you just told me, I don't see your face doing the deed.”

Kell tried to find words, but they escaped him.

Scotty scrubbed a hand across his face. “Look, man, we know you. I've seen you jump in front of zombies to save people more times than I can count. You're probably right; there are people out there who'd scream for your blood. And to be honest, I can't help feeling a bit of that myself. Like you said, it isn't logical, but yeah. I
do
blame you a little, now that I think about it.”

Kell clenched his jaw. It wasn't unexpected news, but still unpleasant.

“But what should I do about it?” Scotty asked. “Should I give in and put a bullet in you? What good would that do? It's not bringing back anyone I love. It isn't going to make me feel better. You say you might be able to cure this thing? I fucking hope so. Even if you can't, I don't see how killing one more person trying to help people adds anything good to the world.”

Chris was nodding. “I think what Scott is saying is, your secret is safe with us, Batman.”

Kell shook his head in disbelief. “That's three people I've told in the last few weeks, and all of you had basically the same reaction. It's more than I could have hoped for.”

Scotty shrugged. “It's not that hard to understand, K. We're your friends. You'd die for us. I saw that last night. Hard to hate a man who stands with you to the end.”

Five hours later they were back on the road. After a nap and a nourishing if extremely boring meal of jerky and dry chia seeds, the group was in better shape. Not much better, but functional enough to drive while watching for threats.

They passed the miles with questions. Now that Scotty and Chris knew the truth, they wanted details. Kell supplied them, only shying away from Karen and Jennifer. There he gave the men the bare essentials, and both had suffered losses enough to understand his desire to leave that wound alone.

Two miles from their destination (according to the directions Nicole gave them, anyway), the scouts pulled off down a gravel road, leading the group to a secluded parking lot behind what had once been a veterinary clinic.

“What's up?” Kate asked as they exited the SUV.

“Orders,” Nicole said, handing over a sealed envelope. “Those are from Will, to you. Ours are to split from you here and hit a refuel about fifty miles southwest. There are directions in there, and we'll point you the right way before we leave.”

“I don't understand,” Kell said. “Aren't you supposed to take us all the way there?”

Nicole shook her head in irritation. “I tried to tell Will that. You might be new, but you're citizens of New Haven. That might not mean a lot to you just yet, but it means a hell of a lot to me. It's our job to make sure you get there safe. I don't like being forced to leave you.”

“Then don't,” Kell said. “You can take us in and—”

Nicole cut him off. “Honestly, I would. Except we really can't. According to Will, there's likely to be activity two, three hundred miles to the west. He has reports of large-scale movements of people where people haven't been spotted since the plague hit. If what I'm told is right, it's critical we get there as soon as possible.” Nicole paused, then huffed out another irritated breath. “Besides, that man knows when you're lying to him. It's just creepy.”

Inside the envelope was a map—a piece of paper from the folder Will showed him. It displayed the area, even the clinic they stood next to, and Kell was struck by how sparse it all was. This town was small, and if the maps he'd been perusing on the trip were correct, the southern part of the state was about as low-population as it got.

“You'll need a few details that aren't on that map,” Nicole said, taking out a pen and jotting down notes. “This is mostly farmland, but the area you're heading to is wooded. You shouldn't run into many zombies, if any. We only saw a handful the last time we were through.”

It only took a minute to add her notes, then Nicole was slipping her helmet back on. She turned to Scotty and Chris, eying them balefully. “All of you know it's vital we keep the existence of the people we're observing secret. Will filled you in before we left, but I want to be absolutely clear.”

Scotty, Chris, and Kell shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Kate wasn't bothered.

“There are three reasons we can't let any of this become public knowledge. The first is to prevent panic. Some of our citizens react to threats with fear. The second is obvious; we can't let the enemy know we know. The third, you may not have had time to figure out on your own, and it's the one that worries me most. If our folks find out what's happening, there's a good chance they'll lose their shit and go on a hunt for these fuckers. Especially if they learn about the communities they've already hit. And we can
not
afford that.”