Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution (26 page)

As she hit the muddy but solid ground below,
Melinda toppled over, seemingly folded in half in the wrong
direction, her neck twisted and broken. William was speechless. Her
position was indescribably unnatural. William couldn’t bring his
feet to move and his breath was threatening to seize in his chest.
The three of them watched for several moments while William and
Gordon came to terms with what they were seeing. Neil was waiting
for something else entirely. He knew what to expect and needed
these men to know as well.

Gordon stepped forward but William said,
“No. Wait. Something doesn’t feel right here.”

William couldn’t have been more right.

Despite her broken body and the red storm of
blood her fall had caused on the undisturbed carpet of snow,
Melinda began to move. Her arms folded as she dug her fingers into
the ground and pulled herself forward. Her torso tilted backward
and, like a carpet unfolding, her legs flopped over into their
proper place.

Gordon had hit his limit. He leaned forward
and spilled his coffee and muffin onto the snow covered leaves at
his feet. The hot vomit burned his nose and his throat terribly. He
took two steps back, spitting more of the bile from his mouth.

“That’s what happens when someone gets bit,”
Neil said. “They get real sick real fast, they die, and then they
come back like that. She’s coming for us. They are only driven to
eat...eat
us
.”

Melinda’s snail paced crawl gave Neil a
moment to finish. “Gordon, you said the bodies you saw over here
were riddled with gunshot wounds. Right?” Neil didn’t wait for an
answer and went on, “The only way to kill these things is to
destroy the brain. You have to hit them in the head with whatever
you got on hand.”

William raised his rifle, but Neil touched
his shoulder again. “It makes too much noise. When they’re easy
like this, use something else.” Neil pulled his bat from his
backpack and walked slowly over to the slithering creature that had
once been a very familiar neighbor to Gordon and William. Without
any pomp or circumstance, Neil lifted his bat and smashed in her
skull with three quick swings.

Melinda grunted twice with the first two
blows and then was quiet. Neil joined the other men and asked, “Is
there another way in other than the front door?”

The other two men were still dumbfounded and
speechless, having a hard time processing or accepting what had
just happened. Was that Melinda? It certainly looked like her. Did
someone or something throw her through the window or did she drive
herself through the glass? Why? Why to any of it?

“Gentlemen,” Neil urged, “we have to move.
Whether we go in there or just seal it up, we have to make it
happen now. We should probably check out the other places that have
people in them too. How many people live in Shotgun Cove?”

Still no response from neither Gordon nor
William. Neil started to walk around the building alone when he
heard a set of footsteps join him. He knew it was William without
having to look back. He was glad to have the big man along with
him.

Seeing other footprints already in the snow,
Neil looked up and saw that a window on the side of the house had
been broken outward, much like the one through which Melinda had
flown. He scanned his surroundings.

Trees, trees, and more trees. In some
places, the trees were so densely packed that snow had not made it
through to the forest floor. The trees were actually a good thing,
because trees shed leaves this time of year. With the ground
covered in fallen leaves, it would be exceptionally difficult for
anything to sneak up on them.

Continuing around to the back door, Neil
allowed a dejected sigh to escape. The door was standing open.
There was blood stretching from the bottom of the stairs to the
middle of the cleared lot where a mostly devoured corpse was
resting. There were multiple sets of footprints around the
eviscerated carcass, all of which led off away from the cabin.

“There may be more in the lodge but there
may be people too. Should we check?” Neil asked.

William thought Neil was the expert and was
about to say as much when they both heard the sounds of movement
and a scream from inside. Neither man needed any more
encouragement. They climbed the stairs and entered a back mudroom
where boots, fishing gear, winter gear, and the like were stored.
They both noticed and were worried by a smeared bloody handprint,
glistening wetly on the wall next to them.

Both Neil and William were carrying their
firearms again. They crept through the adjoining rooms trying to
ignore the mess and the mayhem which had ripped through the lodge.
There was more blood and some long locks of dark, wavy hair that
had been pulled violently from a woman’s head.

William motioned to the ceiling and so they
worked their way upstairs. The room from which Melinda had jumped
was locked from the inside. Neil held his breath and knocked. He
whispered, “Is there anyone in there?” After several anxious
seconds, they decided the room was likely empty. Melinda couldn’t
have been thrown. Like Neil said, Melinda had leapt through the
window in order to attack and eat William, Neil and Gordon.

They heard more movement. Swallowing hard
and moving slowly, they inched themselves closer to the stairs.
Footsteps. They heard footsteps just below them. Neil lowered the
muzzle of his rifle toward the stairs and started to make his way
down. In an instant, he saw a shadow and then a figure looking up
at him.

William let out a little whimper that did
not align with his frame, before he realized it was Ferguson
staring back up at him. He was a cook and general handyman at
another of the lodges in the area. He was a likable young fellow
with a smile for everyone and unequaled culinary capabilities.
Several of his salmon recipes had already created regular diners at
the lodge and offers of employment from other owners.

He was a young guy living fast and hard. The
rough mileage showed itself in the many lines already formed on his
face and the deep rasp in his voice. Standing at the bottom of the
stairs, Ferguson said, “Front door was open. We heard shots. What
the hell happened h—?”

Norman Kellogg sprung from the shadows and
latched himself onto Ferguson’s tattooed throat. Grinding his teeth
together with the power and ferocity of a shark, the thing that was
once Norman, the wealthiest lodge owner in Shotgun Cove, cleaved
Ferguson’s flesh to the bone, producing a fountain of blood which
sprayed the walls and floor all around him. Norman was chewing the
soft, warm skin when Neil shot once, sending a bullet at close
range through Norman’s forehead. Most of what had been in Norman’s
skull was sprayed onto the ground behind him.

Ferguson stood motionless for a moment, a
look of profound surprise on his face. He stared at William for a
moment as his life along with his blood seeped mercilessly from his
body. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down it to the
floor, leaving a running smear of blood in his wake.

Neil aimed his rifle at Ferguson but
hesitated when William shot him a look and shook his head. Neil
started to say that it needed to be done, for both Ferguson’s and
their sakes, but was put off again when William started to climb
back down the stairs, placing himself between Neil and the young,
stricken man.

“We gotta get outta here,” Neil said. “Now.
Gordon, you down there?”

Gordon had just come to terms with Melinda’s
fate in the front yard. Ferguson had run into Gordon outside and
had talked him into following him into the lodge. No sooner had
they entered than Gordon saw the man attacked by Melinda’s husband,
who was then shot to death. It was a lot to take in all at once.
Gordon heard William utter his name, but he wasn’t sure what to do.
When both William and Neil appeared on the steps, he was still
unable to respond.

He heard William ask if he was okay, but
again he found it too difficult to speak. He nodded and shrugged at
the same time.

Another voice caught their attention, a
woman’s voice and one that was familiar to William. “Mia, is that
you?” he called out.

“William?”

The big black man nodded in every direction,
“Yeah. It’s me.”

“Did you kill Norman?”

“He’s dead.”

A narrow door below the stairs opened slowly
revealing a young woman stuffed tightly into a tiny closet already
full with other items. She fell out in a sobbing heap.

“Mia,” Neil asked, “is there anyone else in
the house?”

William helped her to her feet while she
sobbed, unable to answer Neil. He pleaded with her, “Can you answer
him? Is there anyone else hiding?”

She nodded and pointed toward the
stairs.

William asked, “Melinda?’ to which Mia
nodded. “Okay, anyone else?” William saw no need in sharing the
gory details about Melinda with Mia at present. If they went out
the front door, she was going to see it for herself anyway.

Mia moaned, “Tom. He locked himself in the
bathroom upstairs.” She then lost herself in her tears again.

Corralling the stupefied Gordon and the
sobbing Mia up the stairs, William and Neil headed for the upstairs
bathroom. They passed two open rooms in addition to the one in
which Melinda had been but didn’t run into any more of the undead
demons. Those rooms looked to be in good order; obviously the
running battles that were fought in the house had spared these
rooms.

On the right was the bathroom and its door
was indeed closed. It looked like the door had been pounded heavily
from outside without breaching it. William knocked while Neil
settled onto his heels with his rifle ready to fire. There was no
answer.

Mia said from further down the hallway,
“Tom. It’s Mia. Norman is dead. We need to get outta here. Unlock
the door.”

They shared worried looks when there was no
response from inside the bathroom and were about to leave when they
heard a sound from the other side of the door. William’s mouth
dried instantly and his jaw clenched. He thought to himself,
Not
again
,
please
.

To Neil’s surprise, the door handle clicked
as it was unlocked, and the door opened slowly. A pair of scared,
red eyes appeared in the small slit of an opening between the door
and its frame.

Seeing Mia and the other men, Tom let the
door open wide and fell forward. He was sobbing as much as Mia,
seeking comfort in her arms. Instinctively, Neil looked the man
over and saw the unfortunate signs of a recent bite on his right
forearm.

As was the case with many of the wounds Neil
had seen over the months, the bite looked superficial and largely
innocuous. Under other circumstances, Tom might need a tetanus shot
and a day to recuperate. This bite, though, carried a death
sentence and much more.

William could sense Neil’s dread. He looked
at him and shook his head. He said, “I know what you’re thinking
but we can’t. We just can’t.”

Through her sobs, Mia asked, “Can’t
what?”

Neil took a deep breath and was about to
answer when at the opposite end of the hallway emerged Ferguson,
seething with rage.

Gordon was confused. “Fergie, are you okay
then?”

Blood was still pumping from the gaping
wound on the young cook’s neck. The entire right side of his body
was covered in uneven streaks of red, much of the red syrupy fluid
dripping and pooling on the floor at his feet. He stood there in
the hallway seemingly confused but that lasted only a moment. When
he looked up, his expression was absent everything but the fury
that filled his eyes to overflowing.

With a subhuman growl, he took three huge
strides and then Neil’s rifle barked. The bullet struck Ferguson in
the chest and hurled him backward. It wasn’t a kill shot, but it
was enough to stop his charge and buy Neil the time to hit him with
a more aimed and calculated pull of the trigger. The second bullet
hit Ferguson on the bridge of the nose, painting the hallway behind
him with blood and gore, dropping him where he stood.

“We need to leave,” Neil said. “Is there
anyone else?” He wanted to say more, but he could sense the others
around him had hit their limit of bad news. Tom didn’t look like he
was going to die any time soon, though the color was fading rapidly
from his cheeks.

Mia shook her head and looked at Tom. She
could tell something was not right in her young friend and worried
for his safety. Neil knew she couldn’t begin to guess how worried
she
should
be, and he didn’t have the heart
at the moment to break it to her. He would be satisfied if they got
away from this place.

Walking out the front door, William knelt
next to Norman’s grotesque corpse. He took a deep breath and fished
into the dead thing’s pockets. He struggled to control his gag
reflex until he finally laid his finger on what he sought. He
nodded triumphantly when he produced the key ring.

“I bet one of these goes to Norman’s
truck.”

Gordon smiled a gleeful acknowledgment, his
typically dour attitude lifting at that possibility. Norman had a
beautifully kept Land Rover LR4, which had had everyone in the Cove
salivating for some time. The LR4 was both rugged and refined. If
he could afford one, Gordon had thought he might be interested in
getting one too. That was a big
if
, and his
sense of practicality would always outweigh his sense of
adventure.

William could see it in Gordon’s eyes, so he
tossed his old friend the keys. “Wanna drive?”

Gordon smiled, his teeth yellowed from a
lifetime of coffee and the occasional pipe. He brushed back the
puffy tuft of white hair on the top of his scalp. If he had had
sunglasses, he would have pulled them on and said something like,
“Let’s ride.”