Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth (5 page)

11:25 hours approximate

Location: Vista

The lawn was just as dead as our pursuers. Adobe had been set in a sidewalk of sorts and then outlined in fist-sized stones. Plants wilted in pots, except for three palm trees. They rose three or four feet and didn’t look any worse for wear. A few more years and the owners had probably planned to plant them around the perimeter of the house. One thing that southern California didn’t lack for was palm trees.

Someone had posted a sign: “Don’t be a dope. Clean up your dog’s poop.” Someone else had scrawled “Brains” over the word "poop".

A pair of legs lay, unmoving from beneath some shrubs. I didn’t bother investigating, because--zombies.

We’d only been in the house for fifteen or twenty minutes, but the sky had turned a nasty shade of grey. San Diego didn’t really have a winter--it was seventy year-round--but this November had become dismal in the early weeks. I was convinced it was because the world currently sucked ass. More than likely, it was just a normal weather pattern. If rain broke out right now I’d be happy. That meant precipitation would pool up so we wouldn’t have to rely on bottled water for the rest of our (presumably) short lives.

Joel motioned for us to drop. The Hungarians caught on and went into a crouch. We shuffled low until we were behind a planter box. A small horde of ten or fifteen dead meandered past our position. A straggler took an interest in the fence because Zs are stupid, and decided to hang out for a while.

Tomas pulled a gun, but Joel shook his head.

I snapped my fingers to get the Z's attention. It lifted its head and drooled blood.

The kid couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and that made me think of Craig.

The Z didn’t catch on, so I snapped my fingers again.

He walked into the fence and then fell over. His ass was in the air and his hands were on the ground. I maneuvered around the planter, wrench in a tight grip.

Something caught my eye at the corner of the yard where the fence met the back of the house. A shape came into view and then faded again.

I waited, hand lifted slightly to tell Joel to wait. When I didn’t see the form again, I advanced on the kid.

He was dressed in the remains of a pair of tighty-whiteys. The only other thing that he wore was one red knee-length sock. His back and arms were a mess of wounds that were hard to look at. No one, especially not a kid, should have to go through that kind of trauma.

“What are you waiting for?” Joel hissed.

I stared at the kid. He was stuck, and his legs were kicking in slow motion. His hands scrabbled at the ground, but as much as he wanted to crawl toward me, he didn’t have the motor skills to pull himself off the fence.

Thing about killing Zs is you get used to it. Sure, I’ve seen my share of the dead wanting to take a bite. I’d fought back, because that was survival. What I hated was all the necessary killing. This was no different.

###

11:50 hours approximate

Location: Vista

“Where to, boss?” the Hungarian man asked.

“Tomas. I don’t want to be rude but we don’t exactly have room for more people in our little group.”

“We help, then we and you go.”

“Why?”

Tomas stared at me like I was an idiot.

“It is normal to help, yes?” Dori chimed in.

“Fine. Ya’ll wanna help, that’s great, but we’re not far from our base of operations. When we get back, we’re out of this city,” Joel said.

He was being purposefully obtuse. No sense revealing too much to folks we didn’t know. It was like I had a psychic connection to my pal. Neither one of us had found a reason to trust another human, but I wasn’t going to turn them away if they were going to help with my plan. The plan I hadn’t told Joel about yet.

We hid behind the burned-out husk of a doublewide that had probably been a piece of shit even before it had been set on fire. The roof was bent the wrong way and hung inside the monstrosity, judging by the limited view I got from the kicked-in doorway. I was pretty sure one of the blackened husks on the floor had been a person.

The house next to the doublewide backed up to a sprawling trailer park that was littered with debris and bodies. One of the homes was at least intact, but something thumped against the walls and wasn’t being quiet about it.

I motioned for Joel to join me, and we moved a few feet away.

“No, man. We can’t bring them,” Joel said before I could get a word in.

“I know that. I need to do something and I understand if you want to get back to our base.”

“Stupid sailor. What half-assed plan are you about to get killed over?”

“So little faith, Joel. Have I steered us wrong yet?”

“Yeah. Many times.”

I gave Joel a flat look.

“Alright. What is it? We can’t keep tossing houses all day.”

“I know, but I have to come back with antibiotics. Anna’s wound can’t wait.”

Tomas and Dori kept watch. He spoke to her in Hungarian and she nodded. Both of them took pains to pretend like they weren’t listening to us.

“Even if we found a pharmacy, place has probably been picked over twenty times.”

“Remember the piece of paper?” I said, and lowered my backpack.

I moved aside cans, boxes of ammo and boxed food until I found the sheet and pulled it out. One side had been a poster for a rock band from the eighties. The other held the message.

“Probably a trap,” he said and handed it back.

“So we scout it out and get our new friends here to help.”

“What’s in it for them?”

“Maybe they have needs that can be met.”

I motioned for Dori and Tomas to join us, and told them what I had in mind.

A shambler moved past the burned-out house, but didn’t catch wind of us. We kept silent for a few minutes while its mindless legs carried it away from our position.

“We have needs too. We go,” Tomas said.

Dori said something in Hungarian and he shook his head. They spoke together, her sounding pissed, him sounding like he didn’t care.

“I apologize. We must leave you now,” Dori waved her hand, indicating our location. “After we are clear of this place we go.”

Tomas didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

“It’s cool, I understand,” I said. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

They probably didn’t trust us either, but at least they were being civil and not trying to shoot us in the back and take our stuff. The only reason we’d joined up in the first place was because we didn’t have a choice.

###

We nodded at each other and together moved out. Joel and I scouted, while they followed and covered our backs. The two were smart and keep their eyes up and focused. They worked well as a team; I couldn’t help but think about the value of adding them to our little group of misfits.

We made good time as we ducked into homes and buildings, constantly on the lookout for Zs. As much as I’d come to expect threats around every corner, under every car, inside every doorway, we only came across a few, and they went down quickly and best of all, quietly.

As we neared the center of town, I broke out the little map again and looked at street signs and landmarks.

Dori and Tomas made short farewells, and then they moved out. A minute later and they hunkered down between two homes, then ran to a road and stayed near a low line of shrubs.

“Shame they couldn’t stick around,” Joel said. “The little firecracker was growing on me.”

“Me too,” I nodded. “But I don’t think any of us were ready to shake hands and become BFFs. Plus, how do we feed two new mouths? It’s hard enough to keep
ourselves
fed, not to mention the shit machine known as Frosty.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and come across an overturned tortilla chip truck. I’d just about kill for a bag of Doritos.”

“You had to mention chips. One of the greatest inventions in the world and we can’t find a snack-size bag to save our lives.”

I thought I was going to start drooling. Hell, I’d take a shower in Doritos and call it the perfect day.

###

12:15 hours approximate

Location: Vista

The map had been crude but well done. A simple sketch work of lines representing streets as well as one landmark: that being a street roundabout that contained a fountain that was dry as a desert. There was a statue of some guy on top, and tied to him were the corpses of two of Zs who’d been executed. Their rotting husks hung over the fountain and had given it a rust color, thanks to all the blood. Whoever had shot these two hadn’t been kind. Bullet holes riddled every body part.

A dog ran across the street, barking at the top of his lungs, but was gone before I could think to quiet him down.

We found the convenience store we’d raided an hour ago and then studied the street signs again. I pointed at one labeled La Jolla and Joel nodded. The street was free of bodies, but cars had been pushed into an interesting pattern. Joel and I hunkered behind one while we studied the lay of the land.

“This shit is creepy.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s been done up to slow us down.”

“Or slow down Zs,” I said.

Joel’s assault rifle was pressed against his shoulder. He stared into the EOTech scope.

“Could be. Could be a trap.”

“Agreed, but why a trap if they want to barter?”

“Shoot the folks coming in the gauntlet and take their shit. Drag the bodies off somewhere,” Joel said.

I gulped.

“How about this. I’ll go ahead in and you cover me.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Think we’re both gonna just wander into a death trap?” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, and stood up.

“Keep your head down. If anyone starts shooting, I’ll shoot back.”

“I know, man. Just don’t shoot me in the ass.”

Joel nodded and I moved out.

###

12:30 hours approximate

Location: Vista

I felt like I was under the crosshairs the entire time. The gauntlet, as Joel had called it, was just that: trucks, cars, furniture--anything that could be used as an obstacle--had been dragged into the street to form a maze. Spikes made out of sticks and metal tubing had been driven into the sides of vehicles to catch unwary Zs. Bodies hung from some traps, but they were fresh kills.

I didn’t see anything resembling a freshly-killed human. Only rotted flesh, bald and balding heads, and a whole lot of blood and rot. Pretty typical stuff for the apocalypse.

I glanced back, expecting to see Joel, but I should have known better. He’d disappeared, however I didn’t think for a minute that he’d abandoned me. Like a Marine hedgehog, he’d probably found some place to get nice and invisible and had the area I was waltzing into under his sights.

I didn’t want to think about the alternative, that someone had him and me under
their
sights, especially since I was probably walking into a trap.

What I wouldn’t give to have some kind of Bluetooth radio headset to talk to Joel as I walked toward my death.

But I had to do this for Anna. I needed to get her antibiotics, or the bullet extraction could go south real quick like. Assuming Roz could even get the damn bullet out, having Frosty lick the wound probably wouldn’t do much good. I needed to get her the drugs Roz had listed.

I came across a crudely-drawn sign done up with a Sharpie.

“No ZEDs within. Advance to safety, state what you have to barter, then get the fuck out. Wrong move gets you erased.”

What was the wrong move exactly? Was I supposed to leave my weapons here?

“Leave your weapons and come on in,” a voice called from the shadow. Damn, that guy should have been on psychic hotline.

I dropped to a crouch and ducked next to a burned-out sedan. My wrench was in one hand and my pistol was in the other.

“If we wanted you dead we’d a shot you a while back. You’re a big fella,” a husky female voice said.

“I haven’t exactly had the best luck with other people,” I said lamely.

“I know. We’re not animals. Just here to trade and get you back on the road to wherever the hell you’re going. Oh, and we’re not Reavers, because fuck those guys.”

“Reavers?” I asked.

“Those wackos that want to see the world burn. We’re businessmen, not bullies.”

I shook my head. Reavers?

“I don’t know anything about assholes burning the world. How about if I just turn around and go back the way I came right now?” I asked.

“Have a nice day, but feel free to come back when you need something. We got a whole shop fulla goods. Just ask. We probably got it. See ya,” she said.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Not my type,” she said.

“So you’re not going to steal my stuff?”

“Hell no. We need guys like you to bring back goodies. For the love of Pete, show yourself, Devon.”

A person
materialized a few feet from me. He’d been hiding in a dark doorway, and he was dressed all in black, including a ski mask. I guessed that he was one of the figures that had nodded at me earlier in the day. He had a sidearm, holstered, and some kind of assault rifle I’d never seen before but Joel could probably write a love poem about.

Anna needed this.

I put my pistol aside and dropped my wrench.

“Fine. I’m leaving my pistol and wrench here. I have backup, though, so don’t do anything stupid.”

“Black fella with a hard face? Yeah, we know about him. Just play it cool and no one gets holey. That’s what happens when bullets start to fly. People drop to the ground and start praying to god. Plus there’s the actual holes. Nasty business.”

I lifted my hands and moved around the car. There was a low wooden door, and behind that stood a woman in her fifties or sixties. She was whip-thin and had a crazy mop of curly white hair. Thick glasses rode her nose. She smiled, though, and I wondered if I was going to take that as my last sight before I woke up in hell.

“You
are
a big one. Just keep a calm head and we’ll do the same. Got guys coming and going all the time, but it’s always the first-timers that are twitchy. We’ve been in business for a week and only one person’s messed this up. He’s out there, on the side of a car. Keeps the Zs away,” she cackled.

“So how does this work?” I asked and lowered my hands. I tried to eye the man in black but he’d disappeared. Instead I lifted my hand in the air and did a little circle so Joel knew I wasn’t in immediate danger.

“How do ya
think
it works? Ya come in here, tell me what ya need, and I tell you what
I
need. If we got stuff to trade then we smile, give each other our stuff, and part friends. Handshakes are optional.”

“What if I don’t have what you need?”

“I bet you could make an old woman feel good,” she smiled and winked at me.

“Thought I wasn’t your type,” I said and thought about just leaving.

“Mom, leave him alone,” a voice called from inside.

The woman broke into another cackle and gestured for me to join her.

“I’m just messing with ya. Name’s Elda. Come on in, we got some hot beef stew. Ain’t the best, 'cause it’s from a can, but it’s warm and fills ya up. Guy came in needing some bandages and left us a case. I’ll share if it makes ya feel any better. You can even watch me sip it if it makes ya feel safer.”

I was practically drooling at the mention of stew.

“Fine. Just make it quick if you’re going to kill me,” I muttered. “I don’t want to die knowing I let my friends down.”

“So melodramatic. Just barter and then go along your way. I won’t hold it against ya if ya don’t want stew or hospitality.”

I considered the older woman. This might be an act. A really good act. A few weeks ago I probably would have trusted her. After McQuinn I wasn’t in the mood to trust anyone. But I did my best to keep my wits about me.

She opened the wooden door and gestured, then turned and kept talking as she walked. I followed, wary of anyone that might jump out and try to plant a knife in my skull.

“We have some food, ammo, and meds. Most people want meds, but we’re fresh out of Oxy. I guess the next best thing would be to go to L.A. and find someone that deals heroin, then stick a needle up your ass and say goodbye to this shitty world for a few hours.”

“How’s L.A.?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Still there, last I heard, but ya have to watch out for the Reavers. The city took a lot of damage, but I heard some mercenaries working with the military have cleared up part of the city and they’re fighting the Reavers. There’s talk of big walls, but I don’t know--could just be talk. If you’re heading up there I suggest you approach by daylight. Also heard they shoot anything that creeps around at night.”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard the term Reavers. Who are they?”

“You
are
wet behind the ears,” she said with a half-smile. “We don’t know much, but when they appear we disappear. They’re some kind of wackos who think God brought on this plague and it’s their job to convince unbelievers with fire or bullets. Rumor has it they took over some military bases or they were already
on
bases, inside job and such, can’t say for sure. They’re bad news. Look for the bloody skullcaps.”

“Bloody skullcaps? The hell is wrong with people?” I shook my head.

“People got guns now and no one to tell 'em to put 'em away. All that shootin’. Figure they’d run out of ammo at some point. Then I guess stuff will get medieval. Swords and maces. Like that big ole wrench you carry. I heard about you from my boy Devon, out front.”

I nodded as she kept talking.

“You just steer clear of Reaver camps, you’ll be okay. Not sure I’d recommend going to L.A., but it’s your skin. Now, what do ya need?”

She’d taken over an antique store. Old clothes and collectibles had been piled on shelves and counters. A typewriter that had seen better days fifty years ago sat in a corner with a fresh sheet of paper protruding from the roller. Plates, picture frames, and a chair that had a spin seat and a weird thick wicker back were all pushed aside. Boxes of MREs, bottled water, and cases of soup and vegetables were stacked in one corner.

“Antibiotics.”

“Oh yeah? Someone sick?”

“Something like that. What do you have?”

“What do you need?"

I reached into my pocket and found the crumpled-up note that Roz had prepared. I tried to pronounce the first pill on the list, but after I’d butchered it for the second time, Elda grabbed the slip of paper.

“I got one of these. I think. I’ll have to have my son take a look.”

Someone
slipped out of a corner of the room. He was dressed in the same shade of “don’t fuck with me” black as the guy near the doorway outside. He wore a couple of guns, but one was under his arm and his right hand stayed close to the stock. This did nothing to make me feel safe.

“Hi,” I said lamely.

“Yo,” the guy nodded.

He took the list and disappeared into the back of the store. A lock clicked and he rummaged around.

“I don’t have much. Some canned goods, a box of crackers. Half a can of Easy Cheese. Got a burner and some butane," I said, and hefted my bag.

“Not bad.”

The guy returned with a couple of pill bottles and handed them to the woman. She squinted at the labels.

“I have ten Amoxicillin That’s good for a few days. What kind of wound are we talking about?”

“Gunshot,” I said, and didn’t elaborate.

The itching feeling on the back of my neck, like someone had a gun pointed at my head, wouldn’t depart.

“Let me see the burner.”

I lowered my pack with a clank. The burner was stuffed in the top so that it barely closed. I had three bottles of fuel, which I also set out. The thing was, this was something we could really use, but Anna needed the meds. If she got infected there was no way to take her to a hospital or clinic. An infection could easily become a death sentence.

“I’ll let ya have five pills for the burner and butane.”

“Come on,” I protested. “I need those pills.”

“You and folks with a lot more to offer. What else ya got?”

I rolled my eyes and dug around in my bag, pushing aside the Percocets, TUMS, and the stuff I couldn’t pronounce, until I found the last bottle of pills. I held them up to the light, and read the label out loud.

“Well, hell. Why didn’t ya say so? Lotta folks living on antidepressants now that the end of the world is here. Kinda ironic, don’t you think? Everyone felt like their world was ending and took pills. Now the world
is
over and they really
need
the goddamn pills.”

“So you want these?” I stared into the bottle and figured there were at least fifty.

“Oh yeah. Take the antibiotics.”

“Works for me,” I said, and started to stuff the burner back into my backpack.

“And the burner?”

“I don’t think so. See I’m a Navy hole snipe and that means I’m not all that bright. But I can count, and fifty of my pills are worth a hell of a lot more than ten of your pills. All things being equal and all.”

The woman’s son choked back a chuckle from his vantage point.

“I can throw in a few more pills.”

“Sounds like a winner. Toss in a case of that beef stew while you’re at it and we’re good. Oh, and you have any 5.56 ammo?”

“Half case and two boxes of shells,” she said.

I tossed her the pill bottle.

###