The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead (29 page)

She hugged her knees, shaking her head as if to make it all go away.

“He contacted your stepfather, didn’t he?” I said. “He set us up.”

Holly touched Griffin’s arm. “Is that what happened?”

Griffin looked at the floor, her voice almost inaudible. “It was Kyle. I didn’t want to go along with it. He made me promise not to say anything.”

“Go along with what?” Warnick said.

“Travis promised me and Kyle that he would stop … hurting me if we agreed.”

“So you betrayed us,” Warnick said.

Griffin buried her face against Holly’s shoulder. “He told us Ormand needed those weapons to fight. And that you were killing innocent people. I—we didn’t know you back then. We believed him.”

“Those other men were already waiting for us down by the stream?” I said.

“They told Kyle where to run so he wouldn’t get shot. Then he went back to the compound with Travis.”

“They figured they’d kill us in the forest while the others took out everyone up here,” Warnick said.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Holly said. “Ram would never have let those guys in.”

“He would if they had Kyle,” I said.

Warnick nodded. “Ram and Landry would’ve assumed the rest of us were already dead. Maybe they promised to release the boy in exchange for food and weapons.”

“But what about the explosion?” Holly said. “And we never found Kyle’s body.”

“Or Travis’s,” I said.

“They might still be out there somewhere,” Warnick said.

“I’m so sorry,” Griffin said. “I know I should’ve told you, but I was scared. They promised not to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah,” Warnick said.

“My brother didn’t mean it. He … he was trying to protect me.”

We no longer trusted Griffin. Warnick took away her weapon.

“I’m sorry, Griffin,” Holly said. “People died today because of you.”

Griffin crawled off by herself and sat, holding herself and whimpering. Though Holly and I hated to see her this way, we knew that from now on she would have to be watched.

Sometime after midnight I awoke, sore and cold. When my eyes opened, I found Warnick staring at the building’s steel door, his weapon in his hands. Seeing that I was awake, he motioned for me to be quiet and moved towards the door and listened.

It was hard to hear anything outside. He waved me over and I went, carrying my axe.

“On the count of three,” he said. “One … two …
three
.”

He unlocked the door, and we stood ready to kill whatever was out there. But there was nothing. As Warnick moved closer, a spiky hand grabbed his arm.

It was Kyle.

Only
not
Kyle but a dragger hell-bent on tearing Warnick to pieces. Half of the body was charred from the explosion. Part of the skull was exposed, white in the moonlight, amid shredded skin. One of the eyes looked deflated. And one arm was raw and bit, all the fingers chewed off. The worst part—he still reeked of smoke and gasoline.

Warnick tried to get away, but Kyle’s grip was strong. I raised the axe and hacked off his arm. The disembodied hand clung to Warnick, who struggled to pry it off.

I took another swing and brought it down on Kyle’s neck, partially decapitating him. Warnick finished him with a shot through the cheekbone.

By now Holly and Griffin were next to us, frozen with fear.

“It’s not fair,” Griffin said. “He was doing it for me. It’s not fair!” Sobbing, she ran out past us and into the night.

“Griffin!” Holly said. “Dave, we have to get her.”

“This might be another trap,” Warnick said.

“We can’t leave her alone out there.” Holly looked at me. “You know I’m right.”

We gathered our supplies and weapons. There was a good chance we wouldn’t be coming back. And we were about to break rule number three—never go into the forest at night.

“Where do you think she went?” I said.

“I’m guessing she’s trying to find her stepfather,” Warnick said.

“What about the stream?” Holly said.

We stood in the blackness of the night, waiting for our eyes to adjust. The moon had drifted behind a bank of clouds, making it difficult to see. Warnick told us that often this was when people were injured—stepping into a hole and twisting their ankle or breaking a limb. And we hesitated to use flashlights for fear of attracting draggers or nailheads. Thank God we still had the luminescent paint to guide us.

I didn’t understand how Griffin could have gotten as far as the stream. We called out to her, but all we got back was a whisper of a wind through the trees. Then it began to rain.

The rain came down in sheets as we made our way through the forest. It was cool, not cold, and we got drenched. We slowed as we went downhill, trying not to slip on the mud and pine needles.

“I still think this is another trick,” Warnick said.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

I had seen the look in Griffin’s eyes, and I wanted to believe she was genuinely scared and guilty over the death of her brother. I don’t know, maybe I was being stupid. I knew Holly felt the same.

“We have to find her before a dragger does,” Holly said.

Halfway down the hill, Warnick put up his hand. We stopped and listened. At first I didn’t hear anything. Then I was certain I heard a dog barking. We waited. It barked again, then whimpered as if warning someone.

“Stay behind me,” Warnick said. “Move slowly.”

He continued down the hill, his weapon ready. Holly followed him, and I brought up the rear. We had no idea what to expect. Was Warnick right? Had Griffin led us into a deathtrap?

“Who is it?” someone said from the darkness. I recognized Ram’s voice.

“Ram, it’s Dave. Where are you?”

Something came at us from the trees. Warnick tried to shoot it.

“Wait!” I said.

One of our dogs—Greta—closed in, limping and wagging her tail. Blood dripped from her hind leg, and the fur was singed on one side of her body. She looked lucky to be alive. She licked Warnick’s hand, and then we gave her a pat.

Ram and Landry appeared, wearing heavy backpacks and carrying weapons.

“Thank God you’re alive,” Holly said.

We embraced, then looked around to make sure we were alone.

“What happened to the compound?” I said.

“Those bastards used grenades to blow up the fuel tank,” Ram said. “Ben and Aaron tried to stop them. The blast destroyed everything.”

“All the men we saw were dead,” I said.

“The dogs attacked them,” Landry said. “Everything went up before they could get away.”

“How did you get out?” Holly said.

“We were in the basement,” Landry said. “We had to go upstairs and crawl out through the hot rubble.”

After a few minutes, the rain stopped and the sky cleared. We told Ram and Landry what had happened to us and how Griffin had run away.

A scream. We hurried in the darkness, trying not to run into a tree or trip over a boulder. When we reached the stream, we found Griffin standing in the water, the moon reflected in the ripples. Two draggers waded towards her. With no weapon to protect her, Griffin was helpless.

“I got this,” Warnick said.

He dropped his backpack, but before he could reach Griffin, the dog bolted ahead, ears flat. She sank her teeth into one of the draggers’ legs, pulling it away from Griffin. Warnick put a bullet through each creature’s head. Then he waded over, grabbed Griffin by the wrist and pulled her to safety, the dog following.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said.

Warnick gave Holly a look, and she went to the girl. Holly held her in her arms and stroked her hair. “It’s okay,” she said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I didn’t have my gun,” Griffin said.

“I know.”

We sat near the stream, looking into the forest. Holly kept Griffin close. We heard a roar in the sky. A Black Dragon helicopter whooshed over us, headed for the deep forest.

“Can’t we try and flag them down?” Holly said.

“They’ll assume we’re either draggers or nailheads,” Warnick said. “Either way they’ll shoot us.”

“Sounds about right,” Landry said.

“Where to?” I said.

“We must go back to the compound,” Ram said, “to see if any of the vehicles survived the explosion.”

“The motor home’s intact,” I said.

“I need to do something first,” Holly said. “Want to help me?” she said to the girl.

Holly pulled off her backpack, dug through it and found a first-aid kit. We watched as she talked Griffin through cleaning and bandaging Greta’s leg.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” Holly said, and gave Griffin a kiss. Greta whined and licked Griffin’s face, making her laugh.

By the time we got going again, it had started raining, but it didn’t take long for us to reach the compound with Greta leading the way. Holly and I kept a close watch on the girl.

“Where are the keys?” Landry said.

We took a minute to decide who was going to return to Ben’s decomposing body and dig out the keys from his jeans pocket. But Warnick was already on his way.

Before catching a few hours’ sleep, we dragged all the bodies over to the fire pit, doused them with gasoline we found in the generator building and lit them. Though it was still raining, they went up in a bright orange ball of flame. We had to cover our noses and mouths against the smell. For a second as I watched them burn, I saw myself in that pit.

Before dawn we boarded the motor home. It had a full tank and started without a problem. The rain came down steadily as we piled in.

“Wait,” I said. “What about the dog?”

“What do you mean, Dave?” Holly said. “She’s coming with us.”

“She can protect us,” Ram said.

“She bit a dragger,” I said. “Am I the only one here who thinks she could infect us?”

We looked at one another. Holly watched as Griffin held the dog close to her.

“We’ll have to chance it,” Holly said.

“Irwin?” I said.

“We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Warnick took the wheel, and the rest of us crowded behind him, including Greta.

“Most of the streets aren’t safe,” he said. “When Quigs and I were there last, we ran into a few platoons still in control. But we heard there are others who’ve gone over.”

“So quickly?” I said.

“They’re scared.”

“What about the high school?” Holly said.

“Out of the question,” Landry said. “When we left there, it was overrun. I say we try to find whatever’s left of Black Dragon.”

“Why don’t we go back to plan B?” I said. “Get the hell out and try somewhere else?”

“You saw that helicopter,” Warnick said. “All the roads are blocked.” A spine-chilling death shriek ripped open the darkness. “We need to get out of here.”

“Where will we go?” Holly said.

“Don’t know.”

As we made our way down the driveway, we had no idea where we were headed or even if we’d make it through another day.

On the way down, we encountered few draggers. Everyone was exhausted, and rather than wasting ammo, we ran over them like armadillos on a Texas highway.

Some stayed dead, their heads crushed on the wet pavement like rotting melons. Others tried crawling after us, their mangled bodies still desperate, still hungry for the world of the living.