Undead 02 The Undead Haze (29 page)

It took her a second, but she lowered her assault rifle and stepped aside. “Truce. Welcome aboard, Captain Cyrus.”

Chapter 28

Dawn of the Dead remake
, I thought as I watched the undead crowd the docks.
That’s what this reminds me of.

We’d worked together to get the boat going. It had some gas, so we pulled out of the dock and cleared the area in no time. I could still hear the zombies’ desperate calls. The splash when they accidentally pushed one another—or simply walked—off the dock and into the icy depths of the sound.

Neither of us spoke as she studied a map we found in the main cabin. Inside was the truly dead body of none other than Dr. Banks sister, Melinda. It was a suicide. The yellow sticky note said
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen -Melinda.”
Dried blood trickled down her chest from the ragged bite mark on her neck. Suicide instead of zombification. I’d seen it before.

The body wasn’t old. She must’ve escaped with the bite when the onslaught first began. In her right hand was a measly .22 pistol. Enough to get the job done, nothing more. I checked the gun and it was empty. She had one shot and made it count.

She laid on the floor between the kitchen nook and benches. Sticky, dark blood pooled around her head, traveling downward and under the door that led to the living quarters in the back of the boat.

When I realized who it was, I placed the locket around her neck. Blaze didn’t ask, and I didn’t explain. We dragged her body onto the deck and tossed it overboard. Who knew? Maybe it would float to Samish and Dr. Banks would find her. See that? I did her favor. I didn’t let her down after all.

After we found a course to take, an awkward tension grew between us. I kept my side towards her, so I could see if she was going to pull anything, but found myself getting distracted watching Fort Christian grow smaller in the distance.

The engine gave a soft hum as Blaze turned it down. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she walked closer to me to pick up her satchel.

The first punch hit my cheekbone and hurt like hell. As my hands came up to block her, her other fist connected with my jaw.

“You useless, lazy motherfucker!” she shouted, grabbing my forearm and swinging one of her legs under mine, bringing me to my knees in one swift motion. “You think
I’m
the bad guy? Well fuck you!”

It took me a second to reorient, but once I did my aggression came out in one long, powerful wave. I grabbed her fist as she tried to punch me in the head and pulled her down, using her own momentum to send her flat on her stomach. I clenched that hand and brought it behind her back, twisting it upward.

“I’m sick of you, Blaze! I came all this way for a coldhearted bitc—”

Every bit of animosity she’d been carrying for me over the past months surfaced as mine did. She flung her body to the side and my grip loosened. A hard kick landed in my stomach, knocking me backward. My head hit the railing on the side of the boat.

She got to her knees and lunged. Both her hands wrapped around my throat and she squeezed.

This was serious. She really wanted to kill me.

“You can’t go around trying to change people,” she snapped as I clawed at her hands. “People don’t change, you dumbass! You knew exactly what I was before you went gallivanting off to find me. What made you think I wouldn’t be a coldhearted bitch now?”

I struck the crook of her straightened elbow with as much force as my position allowed. Her arm buckled and she was knocked off balance. She caught herself, came in again, but I reacted faster and hit her face. Blood dribbled from her lip as she looked back at me. I stood.

“
You
changed
me
.”

Blaze’s chest heaved. She ran her tongue over her teeth. I felt warm liquid stream from my nose. I tasted blood.

“I’m not telling you who to be, Blaze,” I said, my voice lower. “But I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel something for you. And when you’ve never felt anything for
anyone
in your life, it’s a big fucking deal when you do.”

When she didn’t even blink, I kept going.

“I’ve had nothing but the determination to find you keeping me alive. I didn’t know what I’d say to you if and when I found you, but I
knew
if I found you I’d figure it all out. And here I am, figuring it out.”

Silence.

“There’s something wrong with you. There’s something wrong with everyone. But that isn’t going to stop me from trying to make something out of this. You can tell me you don’t feel anything for me, and I won’t care. You can tell me you want me to fuck off and die. I won’t care. If you told me you’re going to kill me, I’d tell you I’ll sleep with one eye open every night. I—”

“Shut the fuck up!” preceded her next blow. Her fist acquainted itself with my nose. More blood.

I couldn’t take it. The pain of everything—her rejection, my body shutting down—made me crumple to my knees.

Blaze was on top of me again, her hands on my shoulders. She pulled me up and slammed me back onto the deck. My skull hit the wood.

Blackness.

Chapter 29

“She didn’t run away.”

Waves. Splashes. Salt water.

Where am I?

“You left her.”

Blood and snot in my nose. Dryness in my throat. Pain in my wrists and ankles.

I opened my eyes. We were in the cabin of the boat. Blaze was laying on the bench in the window nook, feet propped up and back against the wall. Dim light shone through the open cabin door and port windows. A tiny red dot brightened and dimmed as she inhaled her cigarette. Shadows cast one side of her face in darkness.

Where did she get that cigarette?

She tapped the ash onto me while I looked up at her. How much of Melinda’s blood and brains had rubbed into my sweater? For that matter, how did I get here in the first place?

I coughed then gagged. A wad of cloth was stuffed in my mouth, held there with another band of fabric around my head.

“We all left her.”

I tried to speak, but all that came out was garbled. Unfortunate. I had a hell of a lot of questions. Why was I tied up? Where was my stuff?

“Are you listening?”

She brought her legs down and kicked my side. A spasm shot through me. I tried to curl around the pain in my ribs, but she stopped me with her boot.

Listen to her, Cyrus. That’s what she wants.

I inhaled through my nose. The junk in there sucked back and dribbled down my throat, but at least I could breathe.

“I’m going to kill you. If you care so much about me, you’ll answer my questions. Understand?”

I nodded.

“Your little friend Gabe, remember her?”

I nodded again. I pictured the Gabe I remembered now. Enrobed in white, being protected by cannibals.

“She didn’t run away.” Smoke billowed from her nostrils. She looked like a demon when the embers of the cigarette reflected in her eyes. “I went into her room while you and Frank were sleeping. I sedated her. I dragged her out of the house and put her in the shed in the backyard. Sedated her again just to be sure.

“You and Frank fell for my lie. Because you
wanted
to. Deep down you both knew she was useless. That’s why you didn’t question me. All I had to say was that she left. I let you do your half-assed check of her room, but then we left. We
all
left.”

Did I tell her Gabe was alive? It was the only card I had that I could hurt her with. But I wasn’t in any position to talk back. She wasn’t bluffing. I was on the edge of death. One wrong word and she’d kill me.

“What do you think of that, huh?”

It made sense. It did. Gabe would never leave—
you’re so fucking stupid, you knew that, Cyrus
—she’d never run off to be on her own. Blaze deceived me. She used me. Lied to me. Got rid of Gabe because it made things a little easier for her.

So many sensations bombarded me that I went supernova.

The truth I always suspected was confirmed. But now what? What did Blaze want?

“You don’t feel good, do you, Cyrus? You feel fucked over. You feel how I feel right now.”

She moved fast, putting her arms under my pits and dragging me out of the cabin. My ass thumped against the handful of stairs. She dropped me and I shifted onto my side. It was lighter outside, not quite sunset. The sun was a raging shade of orange. Purples and reds brushed across the sky, gradiating into inky blackness.

There’s my stuff,
I thought as I focused on the heap of items in front of me. My gun, my vest. Everything was scattered across the deck. Everything but—

Blaze flipped me onto my back and stood over me. She leaned down and shoved something in my face.

And there it was. Blaze Wright’s smiling face looked back at me from the photo, her brother missing from her side.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

She wasn’t smiling now.

In fact, once she took the photo from my sight, all I saw was the barrel of a gun.

Epilogue

Blaze and Cyrus huddled around a campfire deep in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, fending off the unusual summer night chill. Their packs were nearby, rifles within reach.

They hadn’t been settled in one spot for years. The transitory feel of the scene was familiar. Comfortable.

“The Brotherhood massacred an agro settlement ten miles north of Valtown. Every time they take out a survivor’s settlement they become more confident. They’re the biggest group of crazies we could ever imagine killing and the most deserving of death. We need to do this, Blaze. It’s what we’ve wanted to do since we started.” Cyrus smirked. “Besides, Valtown’s leader is desperate for us to help him.”

“
You
started this. I should’ve shot you when I had the chance.”

“You’re still sore about something that happened five years ago? Give me a fucking break.”

She scowled. The light from the campfire shone in her dark eyes. The ragged scars on her face deepened before they were obscured by an exhale of cigarette smoke.

“Besides, you know if Beau is alive he might be there,” Cyrus reasoned. “Every time we go on a hunt, I see the hope on your face.”

“And how about the fucking depression when he isn’t?”

“That, too.”

Blaze kicked the edge of the fire with the heel of her boot, sending sparks flying towards Cyrus. He shielded his face and brushed them off as they landed on his clothes.

He knew she wouldn’t hurt him. Not really.

“We’re running out of supplies. Valtown, Surville, and Brickston have raided every city within a hundred miles. We can’t squat in a house or salvage anything useful from the suburbs anymore.”

“And who helped them raid? We did. It’s our own fault we rely on them for supplies. We help the survivor’s colonies find supply hoarders, untapped cities, and neighborhoods. All the gung-ho, guns blazin’ bullshit you talked about? We never do that anymore.”

She was right. Cyrus had convinced her they should kill every crazy they could find and she had liked the idea. It kept them together, and they did just that in the beginning; slaughter cannibals and raiders.

But after a few years, survivors with good intentions started securing and colonizing cities, specifically easily fortifiable storage unit facilities. They scavenged supplies closest to them first, but their population and need for resources spiraled outward continuously until Cyrus and Blaze had no choice but to deal with them for ammunition, guns, and other necessary supplies. Blaze wouldn’t leave the northwest corner of Washington because that’s where Beau could be. It was both of their faults. Cyrus wouldn’t say it out loud.

Cyrus tore the top off his last red Pixy Stix and sprinkled half on his tongue, savoring the sweetness. Even candy was a commodity.
Everything
was a commodity. The survivors colonies had every-fucking-thing. Knowing this next sugar fix might be his last made him appreciate each morsel even more. That’s why they
needed
to kill The Brotherhood. If they did, every town would owe them. Talk about bargaining power. They’d never want for anything again.

Plus The Brotherhood, if their clan descended from Kevin as Cyrus suspected, were the people who seized Beau. Cyrus believed him to be dead. How could someone be captured by cannibals and still be alive five years later? But it was all that kept Blaze and him together.

Blaze squeezed her eyes shut. “Fine.”

“I knew you’d agree,” Cyrus said. “This will be it. I can feel it. We’ll find Beau. We’ll kill them all.”

Blaze stubbed out the cigarette butt and flicked it aside. He watched her and couldn’t quite hide the smug, self-satisfied smile that played at the corner of his mouth.

Cyrus V. Sinclair.

The V stands for fucking vigilante of the apocalypse.

Acknowledgments

As I write this sentence, I’m filled with profound anxiety, because I’m worried that when my beta reader and first editor Tamara Biediger reads it she’ll cringe at the grammar and wonder if all her help was for naught. I would like to assure her that her efforts have made me a better writer. Her editing and commentary taught me more than any of my English classes ever did.

Tamara, your editing hurts so good. Thank you.

For Evan and Matt who have proven to be a kickass fans through thick and thin.

And of course, I thank my group of fans (you know who you are!) who take the time to contact me and share their thoughts on my work.

About Eloise J. Knapp

Eloise J. Knapp resides in Seattle, Washington. She never complains about the rain and rolls her eyes at those who do. She enjoys graphic design and attempts to fend off writer’s block so that she might enjoy writing, too.

The Undead Haze
is Knapp’s second novel. For more on Knapp visit www.eloisejknapp.com

Table of Contents

Prologue