Dying Days 5 (9 page)

"I didn't..."

"Yes, you did. I think he's going to end up killing me at some point," Taylor said. "He has no soul."

"I can't let that happen. To you or anyone. I've only been in the compound a few weeks but already I see what a problem he is. I don't know anyone who likes him but for some reason The Lich Lord lets him keep his power."

"It makes no sense to me, either. I'm afraid to say anything to The Lich Lord when he's around, though. I really just want to ask him what he's thinking by keeping Jeff in charge. Vee does such a great job. Ever since Azrael left, it's been harder and harder to get away from Jeff," Taylor said.

"Azrael? You mean like the
Smurfs
cat?"

Taylor laughed. "As in the Angel of Death. Russ was a great guy. He's the reason I left for a couple of days and found all the people I help. He gave me purpose without realizing it."

"Where is he now?"

Taylor looked away. "Jeff said he killed him. Shot him in the head."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Taylor shrugged. "I'm sure you've seen as many deaths and lost as many people as I have."

He nodded and put out his hand. "Yeah. It was a long journey from Illinois to this spot. I lost way too many important people during my travels. My name is Scotty, by the way."

Chapter Eleven

He didn't see the ambush until it was too late. Just as Heath and John got to the latest roadblock, they came out of the woods and the train tracks on their right and from the houses on the left.

A swarm of zombies led by obviously intelligent ones who held back and watched the coming battle.

Lincoln knew they had no time to mount up on their bikes and vehicles and escape, but they needed to keep from being surrounded. "To me. We fight forward," he yelled. If they could break through the blockade, they'd have enough room to drive away, but it was going to be close. They'd have some casualties today.

They formed into a rough circle but, if they mounted their bikes or got into their vehicles, they'd be overrun before they got far. Lincoln shot the zombies ahead of them before they could close the gap and cut off the main group from Heath and John.

There were too many zombies.

Lincoln turned to his right when he heard a scream and had to turn away when one of the group members was pulled down and bitten.

"Run away," someone was shouting. "We're lost. Scatter or we'll all die."

Lincoln turned to see who was yelling: one of the smart zombies standing off to the side, grinning as he yelled and created even more chaos.

"To me," Lincoln yelled, but there weren't many of the living left to rally. He shot a zombie coming at him and aimed at the smart zombie, who saw Lincoln and ducked as he fired.

He couldn't get close enough to the ring leaders, standing off to the side and enjoying the ambush from a distance.

Lincoln knew all was lost. He turned to get onto his motorcycle and ride away but he'd taken too many steps away from his ride and there were six zombies blocking his path.

Another member of his group fell next to him and he watched two more former allies now rising from the dead nearby.

Lincoln shot twice before his weapon was out of ammo. He used the gun to bludgeon the nearest walking corpse but he didn't think he'd get far without a real weapon. His machete was strapped to his bike.

"Where are you going? Come to us. We want to play," one of the zombies was taunting. Lincoln didn't know if he was addressing him or someone else and he didn't care. He decided if he died on this spot he'd take one of the smart zombies to Hell with him.

Lincoln turned and barreled through three zombies before the mass of them was too much. He scanned the crowd for any survivors but saw no one. The shooting had stopped. He knew they didn't have many bullets between all of them anyway, but his heart sunk because he knew he was alone.

But he had a mission and he would see it through if it killed him.

Lincoln put his shoulder down and ran as fast as he could forward, aiming for the group of zombies watching and making comments.

He knocked down two of the mindless zombies in his path but as he tried to run forward his foot caught on one on the ground and he pitched forward, falling in the dirt.

Lincoln pulled himself up. He was only a few feet from the taunting zombies but it may as well have been a mile.

A zombie sank rotting teeth into Lincoln's ankle. He tried to kick it away but it was no use.

Another zombie fell on top of Lincoln and bit his exposed forearm.

Lincoln locked eyes on the zombies smiling and watching him and pushed away at the zombie that was biting him, managing to break free.

“You can’t win in this world,” Lincoln said.

“I beg to differ.” The other zombies laughed at the joke.

This close to one, Lincoln could see they could pass for another living being except they seemed a bit off. It was the eyes, tinged bright red and seeming to look right through you. It was unnerving, but Lincoln knew he had to destroy as many of them as he could before he died.

“If you kill all the humans, what will you have to hunt?’ Lincoln asked, trying to buy some time as he took another labored step closer, the pain in his ankle and forearm already starting to drive him mad.

“Who cares?” the zombie said. “This is just fun for us. You don’t get it and you’ll never get it. You know why? Because you’re not going to get the gift we’ve received. You’re not going to stand with us in a few months and hunt like we do. You’re not going to become part of our clique.”

“We don’t need someone like you,” one of the other zombies said.

The original one he’d been talking to nodded. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t rise from your grave. When you die today, on this shitty stretch of highway, no one will mourn your passing. No one will remember your name. And already no one cares.”

Lincoln was only a few feet away and put his shoulder down slightly, ready to use the last bit of strength he had to charge, when he saw the zombie pull a Glock 22 from behind his back.

“That’s… not fair,” Lincoln said.
God, wasn’t it bad enough they were getting smarter? That they didn’t tire or need food or water? They had no conscience? Now they were going to shoot us, too?

“Life isn’t fair, buddy. Hell, un-life like we have sometimes isn’t fair, and that’s the real bitch.” The zombie aimed and shot Lincoln in the face.

*   *   *   *   *

When Taylor and Scotty left the building together, Jeff followed. He needed to know anything he could about the guy, because he was standing in his way to get the girl. If he could get Taylor and destroy this new threat, it would be even sweeter for him.

He knew he couldn't petition The Lich Lord to get rid of Scotty or let Jeff kill the guy, so as long as their leader was none the wiser...

Scotty seemed too smart to be led out on a scouting mission without knowing what was going to happen. He'd make sure Jeff stayed in front where he could see him, but maybe it still wouldn't be enough. Jeff could get one of his goons to kill the guy, and then if The Lich Lord called Jeff on the carpet he could deny having any knowledge about it.

But it was too risky, even though the end result would be great.

Jeff would watch and learn. It was all he could do right now. Besides, he had work to do. Work that would strengthen not only the compound but his place in it.

He turned to go back to his home and fish out another bottle of bourbon he'd hidden in the wall when he saw one of the newer women who'd recently come into the compound. He smiled.

"Excuse me," Jeff said as he approached her. She was covered in sweat, her white shirt clinging to her big chest and a pair of tight jean shorts, shaping her gorgeously big ass. She was Puerto Rican or Mexican or something exotic, and she had the big ass and tits Jeff so loved.

When she saw him, she frowned and stopped walking down the sidewalk, glancing across the street for an escape.

Jeff put his hands up. "Hey, I'm just stopping you to talk. I'm Jeff. I'm the guy who helped bring you to safety, remember?"

"I remember," she said.

Jeff loved her New York-tinged accent. She was so sexy. He could only imagine what a night with her would be like, and he wanted to find out. He'd already forgotten about Taylor and her new boyfriend.

"Where are you staying?" Jeff asked.

She paused before answering, and kept taking small steps forward and away from him. He knew the jerkoffs had already told her to stay away from him. Not that it really mattered. "They have a bunch of us cramped into what might've been a storage unit."

Jeff shook his head. "That really sucks. I have a full bar to myself. Two stories. I set up a couple of beds and even have a couch. When's the last time you saw a movie?"

She just stared at Jeff and was probably trying to figure out what his angle was.

"I have a sixty-inch television. Six TV's, actually, in the bar. And so many DVD's I'll die before I watch half of them." He knew she looked intrigued. He went for the kill. "I also have my own bathroom with a running hot shower."

He'd hooked her. She wiped the grime and sweat from her cheeks and stopped trying to walk away. "How is that possible?"

"I'm the go-to guy around here. I've been The Lich Lord's right hand man since the beginning of this shit. As such, I have the best of the best when it comes to the spoils. I'm the guy who runs the scouting crews and gets first crack at everything." Jeff smiled. "You like jewelry?"

"What girl doesn't?"

"I have a box in the bar overflowing with necklaces, rings, earrings, charms... you name it. And no one to give it to," Jeff said.

"I'm not really... I need to go."

"I'm Jeff, by the way, in case I didn't tell you before."

"I'm Lola. Nice to meet you. I'll see you around."

Jeff stepped out of her way and put his hands in his pockets. "Yes, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you ever just want to talk, let me know. We can all use friends, right? And if you want a cold beer, a smoke or a shot of whiskey, you know where to find me."

Lola stared at Jeff for nearly a minute before finally speaking again. "What kind of whiskey?"

Jeff tried not to smile and acted casual. He'd hooked her. "I have six bottles left, from the bar, that are about half full, but I have an unopened case of Jameson Irish hidden behind the bar. I really hate drinking alone, to be honest."

Lola smiled. "I guess one drink won't hurt. Lead the way."

Jeff asked her a bunch of inane questions as they went to the bar, feigning interest when Lola told him all about where she grew up and what she was doing when the world went to shit. He nodded when he had to, laughed when she did, and didn't hear a real word she was saying. It didn't matter to Jeff.

"I'll get the glasses and you get any bottle you want from behind the bar," Jeff said once they'd gone inside. He quietly locked the door behind him.

"Where? It's dark in here," Lola said.

"I'll turn on the lights. The bar is to your left," Jeff said.

He didn't go to the light panel, instead following Lola and scooping up one of the wooden barstools as he moved.

Just as she rounded the counter Jeff struck, slamming her over the head and back with the chair, careful not to kill her just yet.

Lola fell to the ground and Jeff pounced, putting his full weight onto her back and covering her mouth once he was in position.

She struggled but she was still stunned by the attack. Jeff pulled out one of his knives with his free hand and touched it to her face.

"If you scream, I will carve you up, do you understand?"

Lola nodded.

"We're going to have some fun and then I'll let you live," Jeff lied.