Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (14 page)

The three men got to work while I kept watch. I was so focused on my surroundings that I barely registered what was going on behind me until the sound of a blowtorch cut through the silence. I looked over my shoulder long enough to see the two guys who had been sitting in the back holding a sheet of metal against the wall while the driver used the blowtorch to secure it.

I was still watching them when the sound of another engine made me spin around. My gun was already up and only a couple seconds later, a truck came into view. I moved my finger to the trigger, but didn’t fire. It was probably just another crew or a group of zombie hunters. Maybe even runners who were on their way to another settlement. Still, being prepared was the smart thing to do. It wasn’t common for marauders from unsanctioned areas to attack Atlanta, but it also wasn’t unheard of. They never got inside the city, but taking out a crew or two so they could snatch their supplies would be enough for them. Although, the runners were the ones who usually had to worry about stuff like that. That’s what had happened to Colton.

The truck slowed to a stop in front of me, and the doors flew open. Two men who looked slightly familiar stepped out, but it wasn’t until Donaghy got out of the truck behind them that I realized who they were. Dragon’s cronies. The ones who cleaned the ring up at the end of the night. All three of the men were decked out in leather, just like my crew and I were.

I lowered my gun when thoughts of last couple nights in the bar slammed into me. The fighter was the last person I expected to see right now.

“Any dead around here?” The younger of the two men yelled. “Need to grab a few for tonight’s fight.”

Donaghy crossed his arms and leaned against the truck. He hadn’t looked my way, so I wasn’t sure if he even realized I was here. Or if he’d care. He looked bored. Bored and annoyed at being out here so early.

“Not yet,” I called.

Donaghy’s head jerked my way just as a moan broke through the silence. His eyes meet mine, sending a tingle of excitement shooting through me, and he shoved himself off the truck.

He looked around before taking a step closer to me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Maintenance.” I nodded to the wall at my back where the rest of my crew was still working to patch the weak spot.

Donaghy’s gaze flitted their way, but it was brief. When he was once again focused on me, his expression was intense. Searching. Like he had a million questions going through his head at once and he couldn’t grasp hold of even one.

A strangled moan cut the hold he had on me in half, and I raised my gun as I turned in a circle, slowly. Scanning the area as I went. There was nothing at first, though. Not even when a second moan broke out, or when more followed and goose bumps popped up on every inch of my skin.

“Incoming!” I called, still scanning the area.

My eyes were straight ahead as I blocked out every thought that didn’t have to do with survival, pretending I was back on the practice range. How many times had Mom or Dad taken me there when I was growing up? Too many to count, that was for sure. The shooting range was the only place inside the walls where normal citizens could legally get their hands on a gun. Mom and Dad had made sure I was prepared in case the unthinkable happened. As soon as I was able to lift a gun, they had me there. Learning to defend myself against the dead. Getting in target practice with every weapon they could get their hands on. I’d never set foot outside the walls until now, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know what I was doing.

“We’re almost done!” one of my guys called from behind me.

I didn’t bother looking to see which one.

“You got this?” Donaghy’s voice was as serious as a heart attack.

“Survivors raised me and they made sure I was one too.”

Thank God.

The first wave rounded the corner only a few seconds later. Six zombies, all so rotten and old that it looked like they were struggling just to lift their feet. There would be more, though, and we all knew it. These things ran in packs now—or shambled in packs, anyway. It was the only way they’d been able to survive this long. If we only came across one or two at a time, we’d be able to take them out without a problem. But twenty? Fifty? A hundred? Numbers like that were a lot harder to control.

I took aim, exhaling to ease the tension in my shoulders. When I squeezed the trigger, a gunshot echoed through the silence like a crack of thunder. A split second later, the zombie closest to us went down.

“Nice!” Donaghy called.

“Stop shooting.” One of the men with Donaghy muttered as he grabbed a pole out of the back of the truck. A loop of rope hung from the end of it. “Son of a bitch. Dragon’s going to kick our asses if we don’t bring a few back.”

“Fine.” I glanced toward my crew. The guy with the blowtorch—I needed to learn their names—was almost done welding the metal sheet to the wall. “I’ll cover you!” I called as Donaghy’s guards jogged toward the advancing zombies.

The fighter looked like he wasn’t sure what to do as he glanced back and forth between the zombies and me. We’d only known each other for two days—and I wasn’t even sure I could say we
knew
each other—but I’d never once seen him look uncertain. Even going into the ring with the dead he looked almost bored.

“I’ll be fine.” I nodded once and tightened my grip on the gun.

Donaghy shook his head but jogged toward the advancing dead with the other two men anyway.

I stood ready, aiming at the nearest zombie as the three men approached it. The thing gnashed his teeth, but he was moving so slowly that it only took the driver thirty seconds to slip the loop over the creature’s head. Once he was secure, they dragged him toward the truck. Donaghy didn’t follow and his eyes were still on the dead headed his way.

When he stepped forward, I squeezed the gun so hard that my fingers ached. The urge to shoot nearly crushed me.

Donaghy ducked behind one of the dead and wrapped his arms around the thing’s torso, pinning his decaying limbs to his sides. The zombie growled and snarled and twisted his head, trying to get at Donaghy, but he couldn’t. Once the fighter was sure he had him, he dragged the dead man toward the truck.

“Shit boy,” the older of the two men said. “We got a pole for that.”

“I can handle it.” The leather covering Donaghy’s body bulged as his muscles flexed under the zombie’s struggles. “And the sooner we have these bastards, the sooner we can get out of here.”

The two men shook their heads, but helped Donaghy drag the zombie to the truck where he was chained in the back next to the first one. The creatures fought and struggled, and the chains holding them down clanged against the truck bed, but they didn’t make any progress.

“Dragon wants at least two more,” the older man called.

Together the three men jogged back. Just as they’d reached the remaining three zombies, another group rounded the corner. This one was at least four times bigger.

“More!” I called.

This time, I didn’t hold back. I squeezed the trigger and the gunshot rang in my ears as a zombie dropped to the ground. Donaghy and his guards managed to wrangle two more of the dead and were just dragging them back toward the truck when another wave rounded the corner, bringing at least twenty more zombies into view.

Shit. If we didn’t get out of here now, we were going to be in real trouble.

“You almost done?” I called before firing again.

My gaze moved to where Donaghy and the other two men were working to get the last of the four zombies into the truck bed. This one seemed to be newer—and a lot faster. Donaghy’s face was bright red as he worked to keep the thing in his grasp.

“Almost!” one of my crew yelled from behind me. I didn’t bother looking back to see who.

I fired again and again, barely pausing between shots. When my gun clicked, I released the empty magazine, then slammed a new one in place before firing again.

The zombies in front of me fell, but I knew I didn’t have enough bullets to take them all out. I backed away, keeping the dead in my sights as I headed for my truck.

I’d only taken two steps when a scuffle to my right drew my attention, and I looked over to find the younger of the two men struggling to control the zombie. The other man stood off to the side like he wasn’t sure what to do, but Donaghy pulled himself into the back of the truck. The younger man backed up, trying to dodge the zombie’s jaws, but all he managed to do was back right into one of the dead men chained up inside the truck bed.

The zombie’s hand wrapped around his leg and the man tried to jerk free. He fell to the floor, twisting his body to the left while the zombie attempted to pull him closer. His pant leg slid up, exposing the skin at his ankle, and the zombie saw his chance. It leaned forward, mouth wide open, and a second later the creature’s decaying teeth sank into flesh. The scream that ripped its way out of the man echoed through my head.

“Son of a bitch!” Donaghy said as he grabbed the zombie that wasn’t chained up and slammed it against the ground.

Metal clinked and a few seconds later the fighter was back on his feet. He grabbed the newly infected man, who was huddled on the floor of the truck bed trying to stop the blood from seeping out of the bite, and dragged him from the truck.

All this happened so fast that I barely had time to take it in between shots, and with each second that passed, the horde got closer to us.

Donaghy shoved the injured man into the cab of their truck, then turned my way, his eyes moving from me to the crew at my back. “Go!” The fighter slammed his hand on the hood of the truck before running over to join me.

The men who had most likely been charged with keeping an eye on the convict didn’t even hesitate. The truck’s tires squealed against the pavement, and a second later it was speeding off, leaving the rest of us behind in a trail of dust.

I only got off one more shot before it hit me that Donaghy had no way to defend himself against the approaching dead. “You aren’t even armed!”

“Never needed a weapon before.” He didn’t take his eyes off the advancing dead.

I shook my head and squeezed off one more shot, then pulled a knife out of the sheath at my waist.

Donaghy’s eyes grew to twice their size when I held it out to him. “You could get in big trouble for arming a convict.”

“I have connections, remember?”

He frowned, but took the knife from me anyway. “I wouldn’t count on Jackson’s help if I were you.”

Jackson?

My gaze went from the zombies in front of me to the convict at my side, then over my shoulder to my crew. It looked like they were just finishing up, which meant we’d be able to get out of here soon.

I squeezed the trigger, letting off one final shot before backing toward the truck. “What does Jackson have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know if he does, I just know he was pretty pissed off when he got home last night.” Donaghy stayed at my side, his back stiff and the knife in his hand. “What the hell happened between you two?”

The zombies were getting closer. The wave that had rounded the corner last must have had quite a few fresh ones in it, and they had passed up the slower ones in their need to rip into my flesh. I glanced over my shoulder again and found my crew jogging toward the truck, but it was impossible to feel any relief at the situation we now found ourselves in.

“Get in the truck!” the man who had driven us out here called. “Get it started!”

Was he joking? I’d never driven in my life.

“Shit,” I muttered and fired again.

Less than six feet of space separated us from the horde now.

“What are you waiting for?” one of my men screamed from behind me.

I glanced toward Donaghy. “Can you drive?”

The fighter shook his head, but grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the truck anyway. “No, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

He ripped the door open and shoved me in, then climbed in after me. By the time he had the door shut, the dead had gained another foot. They were now so close that I could actually see the maggots crawling through their rotting flesh.

The keys hung from the ignition, and the second Donaghy turned them, the engine roared to life. The passenger door was yanked open and the cab was filled with shouting as the men in my crew yelled at each other to get in. Next to Donaghy, a zombie slammed into the side of the truck and a scream ripped its way out of me. My crewmembers climbed in, two of them throwing their bodies over the seat to get in the back row, while the third yelled at them to hurry. He climbed in next to me, and the second he was safely inside, slammed the door shut.

The horde had converged on the truck. They were all around us, banging on the sides and the windows. One crawled onto the hood and another somehow managed to get himself into the bed of the truck.

“Go!” one of the men behind me yelled, his voice echoing through the cab.

Donaghy threw the truck into gear and we lurched forward so fast that my whole body slammed into the back of the seat before being thrown forward. The fighter’s hands gripped the steering wheel as we plowed through the dead, the tires bouncing over bodies while black and brown blood splashed across the windows. Donaghy pressed his foot down harder on the gas, and before I knew it, the dead were behind us.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out.

My heart was pounding so hard that it almost drowned out the sound of the crewmembers behind me as they shuffled and swore.

“We have a stowaway,” one said.

Something slammed against the window at my back, and I spun around. The zombie who had climbed into the bed of the truck had his face smashed up against the little window. His milky eyes peered at us through the glass as his mouth opened and closed like he was imaging what it would feel like to sink his teeth into us.

“Slow down,” the guy with the beady little eyes said as he twisted in his seat.

Donaghy eased up on the gas and the truck lurched awkwardly, throwing everyone forward.

“Shit.” Beady eyes narrowed on the back of the fighter’s head. “Keep it steady.”

“Sorry.” Donaghy’s hands tightened on the wheel. “It’s my first time.”