The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead (36 page)

I followed Warnick to the rear, where we found the loading dock. A bobtail truck was parked next to the dock. The driver was still in the cab, his chest carved out like a Halloween pumpkin, his skeletal hands still clinging to the steering wheel, his entrails draped over the gearshift knob.

“I remember this building,” Estrada said. “We secured it weeks ago.”

We jogged back to the front. Warnick signaled a soldier to get something from one of the vehicles. The soldier returned with a small kit and proceeded to pick the lock.

“Why not shoot it open?” I said.

“That’s the movies,” the soldier said. “If we did that, we wouldn’t be able to lock it again.”

Once inside, teams of soldiers checked every floor for signs of draggers or nailheads. Warnick and I joined a team checking out the first floor. We found that the electricity still worked, which meant the elevators were operational. I wanted desperately to charge my phone, but we needed to make sure the building was secure. Checking the restrooms, we found that the plumbing worked as well.

We took the elevator down to the basement, our weapons ready. When the doors opened, I almost fired on a group of people who looked like draggers.

“Is it over?” one of them said.

There were at least thirty civilians staring at us, holding in their scrawny hands anything they could find to use as weapons.

The hallway was filled with trash. Rats and cockroaches feasted on the mess. The smell was sickening.

We brought the people up to the first floor in small groups and gave them food and water. Some had to be carried. For a moment I thought Holly and Griffin might be among them. But these people had been down there a long time, most of them starving. A few had died. None of the dead had turned, though, having never been exposed to the virus.

Nina sat among them, feeding Evan.

“Why did you stay down there?” Warnick said to one of the men as he gulped down bottled water.

“We were ordered to by your guys.”

“How long ago?”

“Hard to remember. Two weeks?”

They’d stayed alive by drinking water. The food from the vending machines had long since run out. Most ate very little, their appetites nonexistent. As I watched them, I saw their bleeding gums and dry skin. They were ragged and weak, like survivors of a concentration camp. I recalled in high school seeing black-and-white photos of prisoners liberated from World War II camps like Auschwitz and Treblinka. That’s what these people looked like, hollow-eyed and skeletal, with swollen bellies.

They were saddened to hear that the undead still infested the town. We gave them medical care and set them up in conference rooms and cubicles to sleep, promising to guard them.

Why had they stayed down there so long? Was their fear that paralyzing?

Once the building was secure, I got out the phone chargers and took Warnick’s phone. I found an outlet and plugged in both phones. As mine turned on, I found I had one bar. Then voice mails and texts poured in.

I played each voice mail. They were all from the past, most of them from Holly. One was from Ram and another from Aaron. Strange hearing those voices again. It was the same with the texts. Nothing recent. Nothing telling me that Holly and Griffin were safe.

Though I wasn’t sure Holly had found a way to charge her phone, I sent her a text anyway.
Are you alive?

The message went through. I waited for a few minutes, hoping that Holly would answer. Nothing. I texted her the name and address of our building in case she and Griffin could make it there.

Once my phone was charged, I pulled Warnick aside. “I need to find Holly and Griffin.”

“Tomorrow. You need rest.”

He was wrong—I was ready. I tried to sleep but couldn’t, so I checked on Nina and the baby. I found her in the lunchroom on the first floor changing Evan’s diaper. The baby seemed calm and happy, gazing into her mother’s eyes the whole time.

“How much stuff have you got in that bag?” I said.

I took a seat at one of the small, round tables and watched as Nina put her baby’s clothes back on and washed her hands in the sink. She carried Evan to the table and sat across from me, stroking the baby’s cheek.

“You want to know what I was doing there,” she said.

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“It was stupid, I know. But I needed formula and diapers.” Her eyes teared up. “I knew I should’ve left with the rest of the neighbors, but I was so scared for Evan. I didn’t know what I’d find out on the road. So I barricaded myself in our condo.”

“Till you ran out of food,” I said.

“I thought Walmart would be deserted and I could run in and grab some supplies. Like I said, it was stupid.”

“Well, you succeeded.”

“Right. Then my car wouldn’t start.” She laughed, embarrassed. “Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by those things.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She looked at me. “We’re not going to make it, are we?”

I didn’t know what to say. I could’ve been a man and given her a big speech. But it was a question that nagged at me too, one I kept pushing from my mind as I thought about Holly and Griffin.

“I don’t know,” I said. She nodded, almost in relief. “Where’s your husband?”

“In San Francisco. We separated for a while.”

“Doesn’t he care about you?”

“He tried coming back, but the roads were blocked. I need him here. What about your wife?”

I told her what had happened except for the part about me cheating on Holly.

“Holly’s lucky,” Nina said.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, Dave. For saving us.” She kissed my cheek and left the room.

Sleep came immediately. The last thing I remember was sitting at the table and looking at my cell phone. Hoping to hear it ding. Praying that a long-awaited message from Holly would reach across the nightmare and give me strength.

When I awoke, Warnick was making coffee. I rose stiffly and checked my phone. Still no text from Holly.

Warnick and I stood by the large windows in the reception area, watching the morning come. Soldiers patrolled outside, and I felt safe. It was getting light out as I sipped my coffee. Warnick must’ve sensed that I was anxious to leave.

“I can’t go with you,” he said. “I have to be here with these men to make sure they stay on task.”

“What you mean is, you don’t trust Estrada.”

“She’s still on probation. I’ll assign a couple of men to go with you. That’s all I can spare.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with where we were originally picked up by Chavez’s men. The girls might still be nearby.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Hey, make sure you keep your phone with you so I can contact you.”

“Sure.”

“What if I run into any nailheads?”

“Make sure you don’t.”

Brilliant blue daylight streamed through the adjacent buildings as I went out to the loading dock with Springer and Popp. Another soldier followed us to the door, ready to lock it once we were outside.

We took a Humvee. As we drove onto the main road, I looked up at the building, wondering if I would ever be back. In addition to Holly and Griffin, I thought about Nina and her baby and the other civilians.

That was the worst thing about these dark days—the uncertainty of every moment. No one ever thinks when they go somewhere that it may be the last time they’ll see their home or their loved ones. I’ll admit, there’s a certain feeling of freedom to it, not being tied down to anything. It’s how Jim and I saw Life in the thick of our drinking days. But it was a lonely feeling too.

I didn’t know what we would find out there. Part of me wanted to stay inside and survive with the others. Start a new life. The other part wanted to find my wife and the young girl whom I now thought of as my family.

What was worse than draggers
and the trail of death they’d blazed as they devoured the town was the low state the nailheads had gotten to. I used to think there were good people and bad people. What I learned in this tragedy was the eternal lesson of good people going bad.

Not that Ormand Ferry was ever good. He was one of those men who pretended to be your friend while screwing your wife. Over the years he’d built up a loyal following of the disillusioned and the disenfranchised. People like Steve Pinkerton. He fed them, comforted them and gave them guns. Then in their weakened, soup-fed state he preached to them. And they listened.

In the world according to Ormand, or at least what I gathered from his sidewalk sermons, the “affliction” had been sent down from on high. God was using His winnowing fork to separate the chaff from the wheat. The strong and the pure would survive—no one else. And he, Ormand Ferry, would lead the chosen to safety. Tough words from a certified nutcase.

We traveled at night, counting on the darkness to keep us safe. As we neared our destination, we decided to ditch the Humvee and hike in. I took in every detail of our surroundings and listened to every faraway sound. The night and its secrets weighed on us, the air stifling. Taking our weapons and ammo, we made sure we weren’t being watched and headed out. After a few blocks, I was drenched in sweat.

As we pressed on, we saw draggers in various states of decomposition. The fresher ones—if a dead, stinking body could ever be considered fresh—traveled in packs. The older ones, the ones near total collapse, wandered alone, no longer able to hunt. Eventually these pathetic corpses lay by the side of the road, looking up at the moon with unseeing eyes, waiting for what? Death? I don’t know how these things died without benefit of a bullet to the brain pan. They seemed to exist in an eternal twilight of longing.

“I think it’s down here,” I said.

As we entered a familiar alley, I saw Ben’s motor home and remembered the day Holly and Griffin escaped, a million years ago. My heart leapt at the thought of finding them alive. Why didn’t we bring more men? It was stupid to think that three of us could keep ourselves safe.

Someone had set fire to the motor home. It was now black and burned out from the inside, a rotting hulk that offered no protection or escape. Beyond the wrecked vehicle was the door Holly and Griffin had used to escape.

Springer pushed the door open and peered inside. Then he went through, signaling for Popp and me to follow. It was black inside, so we had to use our flashlights. We listened for movement of any kind. Anything could be in there, and we had to be ready.

We had agreed in advance to use hand signals instead of speaking. Good thing, because as Springer walked towards a hallway he was greeted by a dragger, a partially eaten hand hanging from its mouth. It glared at Springer, as if angry that we’d interrupted its dinner.

Springer didn’t fire. He and Popp had attached bayonets to their AR-15s, and Springer raised his weapon and ran the knife through the dragger’s head before it could strike. The creature fell with a groan and stopped moving.

We found the emergency stairs and started up. I don’t know how I ended up in front. Right away I noticed that the peeling metal railing was wet and sticky. I shone my flashlight on my hand and found blood. Then I heard something and directed the beam up the stairs. I was face-to-face with a horde.

The creature nearest me hissed as I fell into Springer and Popp. Gaining their footing, they shot the ones closest to us through the head. The others came down, forcing us to retreat.

I dropped my flashlight and hit the ground. Searching for it, I felt draggers pushing past me towards the light from the other flashlights.

A volley of bullets took down another five or six. Finding my flashlight, I scrambled to get out of there. Once off to the side, I shone the flashlight across the room. I saw a dragger about to attack Springer. I didn’t fire my handgun for fear of hitting the soldier.

“Push him away,” I said.

As Springer shoved him back, I took aim and fired, missing the creature. Then another shot hit the thing, and it went down. I panned the flashlight over and saw Popp lowering his AR-15.

Two more draggers appeared, and as I raised my weapon, a decaying hand grabbed me. I let myself go limp. Shining the flashlight up, I saw the bewildered dragger coming for me again. I shot it through the mouth as it was about to shriek, shredding its slithering black tongue.