Dying Days 7 Read online

  Dying Days 7

  Armand Rosamilia

  Edited by Jenny Adams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without expressed written consent of the author and/or artists

  This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living, dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dying Days 7 copyright 2016 by Armand Rosamilia

  Cover copyright 2016 by Jack Wallen

  First printing November 2016

  [email protected]

  http://dyingdayszombie.com

  I want to thank all of the Dying Days zombie fans who’ve made this series into what it is. Without you I’m still a part-time writer and not living my dreams… so thank you!

  And thank Shelly for allowing me to live my dream by being so supportive!

  The Dying Days series from Armand Rosamilia

  Highway To Hell

  Dying Days

  Dying Days 2

  Still Dying: Select Scenes From Dying Days

  Still Dying 2

  Dying Days 3

  Dying Days: Origins

  Highway To Hell 2

  Dying Days: Origins 2

  Dying Days 3

  Dying Days 4

  Dying Days 5

  Dying Days 6

  Dying Days 7

  Dying Days 8

  Dying Days 7

  Prologue

  He’d survived among the humans for two days without so much as a second glance. He was just another poor soul, shuffling along with the dirty masses towards the Promised Land, as everyone began calling it.

  Hundreds of them were safe, sleeping on cots and on top of blankets and pillows in what was once a middle school. The area surrounding it was fenced in and ditches had been dug on either side, keeping the stray zombies out. There was only one narrow path, too small for more than two people to walk side by side, and guards with machetes and crossbows patrolled every fifty feet on wooden stands.

  This was the stop before being moved to the peninsula across the bridge and into the general population.

  Where everyone works for plentiful food, sleeps in big houses with air conditioning and doesn’t worry about the crumbling world around them, he thought. He wanted to get inside and turn it into his own playground of death and destruction.

  Blue contacts in his eyes had been easy enough. The tell-tale sign of being a zombie was the gray eyes. He’d changed them, changed into nice but worn clothing and kept his head down as much as possible. Everyone was too concerned with their own plight to worry about just another middle-aged man with a thick graying beard and pale skin.

  “Group three leaves in fifteen,” a woman yelled across the former gymnasium. “I will remind you again: if you try to sneak into a group you don’t belong in, you will be put to the back of the line. That means several days before you can cross over and have a hot meal. I believe tomorrow is pancakes. We’ll move ten groups tonight if everyone cooperates.”

  “What’s for breakfast on Tuesday?” someone yelled nearby.

  “I don’t know what today is,” the woman replied with a laugh. “I do know the food is hot and delicious. We even have fresh milk and had fried chicken last night.”

  Each group was composed of ten random people put together based on when they’d arrived.

  He’d been told he was group five, which meant he had over an hour to wait. He had all the time in the world. He’d faked eating the granola bars and drinking the cool water they served and closed his eyes and lost himself in deep thoughts about the carnage he was going to wreak when he was supposedly sleeping on the hard cot.

  Last night they’d moved thirteen groups when the school had filled with more refugees than normal. He heard the talk around him about word of The Promised Land spreading far and wide. From what he could tell, most of South Florida and down the I-4 corridor was now owned by the zombies, all of the survivors heading in this direction.

  The road to The Promised Land had been filled with horrors. Burning bodies filled vacant lots. Fields had been reduced to scorched earth. Buildings were pulled down and flattened. As far as the eye could see were zombies and survivors, all wandering in the same general direction.

  A patrol for The Promised Land had intercepted the group he was hiding in yesterday morning. A group of twenty motorcycles and six vehicles formed a barrier over the only road not pulled up or blocked, but they’d been friendly enough. Each survivor was checked over quickly, making sure no gray eyes were present, and then led down the road.

  The patrol was led by a fiery redhead who looked bored to be doing anything other than using the multiple firearms strapped to her curvy figure.

  They followed the signs to the middle school, where food and water was promised as well as a safe haven to sleep. Their packs and weapons were taken but they’d be returned after they went over the bridge. Groups were formed and shown where they’d be sleeping.

  Two doctors and three nurses made the rounds, checking everyone for cuts and wounds. A woman nearby, hugging her small, frail daughter with the bald head, had asked about chemo or other alternative treatments. She squeezed her tired-looking daughter’s shoulder and tried her best to keep smiling.

  A nurse grinned. “She’ll be cured once she goes across the bridge.”

  This was all nonsense. He was sure the weak little girl was going to be turned into food or zombie bait. If he were in charge, it’s what he would do. Only the strong survived this new world. This girl was a waste and her mother was weak for believing in a lie.

  Group three and then four was led out, everyone smiling and talking about seeing everyone on the other side. He wondered if there really was another side or if they’d simply walk off the end of the bridge and into the giant maw of a ravenous zombie beast.

  This was all too good to be true. He smiled at the other members of his group when they started talking, pretending he was as excited as they were. While they looked forward to a sense of normalcy and a return to a time without constant fear, he looked forward to destroying that false hope and beginning his reign of terror with so many easy victims trapped in a small area.

  Hunting was becoming a chore and live prey was few and far between. When he’d stumbled upon the initial group, his first impulse was to rip through their bodies and be done with it. But, before they’d seen him, he’d overheard talk of The Promised Land, where they were headed.

  The colored contacts had been a nice touch. He’d found them weeks ago and had put them in before introducing himself to the group, who welcomed him, as an older man who looked like he could barely walk on his own, with open arms.

  “Group five in fifteen,” the woman called.

  He clapped his hands like everyone else was doing as the ten members of group five moved closer to the door and got ready to go.

  More survivors were being led inside, filling the cots they’d just left. They were given granola bars and water and told how wonderful everything was going to be.

  He’d wait a few days before he started to kill anyone. Let the people of The Promised Land try to figure out who it was. When the wolf killing the sheep had been let in would be the mystery. If he was smart and patient, he could wipe out the bulk of them in a few months. He had all the time in the world and this game was going to be fun.

  Group five was shuffled out in single file and put into a mini-van, the driver staring straight ahead and looking bored. He’d probably driven this path a dozen times a day.

  Fences and walls had been erecte
d on either side of the road they traveled, with armed men walking the perimeter. He saw several on horseback, too. The river to his left was blocked by wooden fencing and makeshift walls. The zombies would be trying to drag themselves from the water in pursuit of new victims.

  Lighting towers had been set up every hundred feet with thick cables running on the side of the road. The light must be attracting every zombie within miles. He’d seen the burn ditches as he’d approached and knew these people were doing their best to contain the zombies and keep them as far away as possible, but it was a losing battle.

  Every friend who died became another foe.

  When the mini-van stopped and he stepped out, he could see the small gate leading over the bridge. The four lanes of the overpass had been reduced to a single-file section, enclosed in a cage that ran to the other side. Armed men and canines patrolled either side, staring down into the river below.

  Gunshots rang out in the distance on this side of the bridge but no one seemed to notice or care. All eyes in his group were turned to the men calling them to step forward.

  He was fourth in line.

  “When I point at you I want you to hand your bags and belongings over to this man on my left. He’ll send it over within the hour,” the lead armed man said. He was dressed from head to toe in police-issue riot gear, his riot helmet sitting on a desk behind him.

  These men were not playing around. He counted at least fifty within gunshot range, and every one of them was armed.

  Someone called out on the bridge and three shots were fired. He couldn’t see what they were shooting at but when they went back to their patrol he figured they’d killed another zombie trying to get inside the fencing.

  They were more organized than he’d thought, which would only make this sweeter when he left The Promised Land in flames and walked back across the bridge and slaughtered all of these idiots and their pets.

  He got in line and watched the woman in front of him start to walk slowly through the fenced-in cage.

  “Once she hits the first marker you can start. Walk slowly. If you speed up, they’ll let you know,” a bored guard said.

  He nodded. He was ready.

  When it was his turn, he followed the same pace as the woman before him had. She’d gone out of sight over the curve of the bridge. He ran his fingers over the chain-link fence on either side.

  A German Shepherd barked once at him but when he turned his gaze and fake smile the dog found something else to do.

  He was too close now to turn back or be called out by a canine. The dogs would die last as they barked and gnashed their teeth to get at him. He’d enjoy their dying whimpers.

  When he got to the top of the bridge he had to stop. There was a closed chain-link gate in his way and two guards, one on either side of the cage, ready to slide it out of the way.

  The woman was twenty feet away, stopped and looking up at the top of the cage.

  Where the ruler of The Promised Land was sitting in a plain wooden chair with a smile.

  “You had no idea you were riddled with cancer, dear?” the ruler was asking the woman, who shook her head. “Honestly, you had sixteen days left to live. You came to us just in time.”

  “I don’t want to die,” she said.

  The ruler laughed. “And you won’t. As we were talking I’ve cured you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I need to find out if the cherry pie your grandmother used to make is really as delicious as your memory makes it. I see you still remember the recipe and I know we have the ingredients. You’ll make a fine addition in our kitchens if you want,” the ruler said.

  She was off with a smile, the gate in front of her opening to let her pass.

  He stepped forward and walked to where the X literally marked the spot to stand.

  “Hello,” the ruler said from above.

  “Hi.” He began thinking the fake thoughts he’d been working on in case something like this was going to happen. Zombies couldn’t read one another’s thoughts but they could project false ones to shield what they really were.

  “You’ve traveled a long way. Through dangerous territory. You must be tired,” the ruler said.

  “I am, sir.”

  The ruler leaned forward. “You were a mechanic? Excellent. We have need of someone like you. The motorcycle pool is always breaking down. We have so many spare parts. Enough to build fifty more bikes. Do you think it would be something you’d be interested in?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’d love to do my part.”

  “Then come on through, friend. Welcome to The Promised Land.”

  The gate opened and he walked through, keeping his head down so his smile wasn’t evident. He kept projecting his pitiful cover story, adding a dash of hope at fixing motorcycles, which was something he’d actually done when he was a mere human.

  “Oh, before I forget… I have one more thing for you,” the ruler said from above.

  He turned and looked up into the eyes of a very pissed off zombie.

  “I’m The Lich Lord. I run this part of the world. I’m also more powerful than any zombie you’ll ever meet. I was one of the first. I’ve also been destroying weaker zombies for months. Better ones than you have tried to sneak into my domain. Do you know what I do with them?”

  He tried to use his powers to fight The Lich Lord but he found his mind was scrambling and he couldn’t concentrate. His limbs went limp and he fell to the pavement.

  “I’m crushing your head from the inside. Your body, truly lifeless now, will be tossed over the side and into the river. Never to be found. You’ll be a distant memory to no one. Just another victim of these dark times. Too bad you won’t be able to see the great things I’m doing on the other side of the bridge,” The Lich Lord said and waved his hand.

  Chunks of flesh began to pull away from the zombie and go over the side of the bridge.

  Mercifully his head imploded within seconds.

  Chapter One

  Tosha Shorb stabbed another prone zombie in the head with her metal stick, making sure the fucker wasn’t playing possum. Too many zombies were getting smarter now, and they were dodging bullets, ambushing patrols and setting traps.

  A zombie, three days ago, had walked up to the northern gate with a machine gun and opened fire. He killed six men and women before they’d destroyed it.

  The zombies were beginning to adapt and look like the guy standing next to you, and Tosha knew one of them was eventually going to get inside the compounds and kill a lot of people.

  It was the reason, as each section of the peninsula from Ormond by The Sea to South Daytona was reclaimed; walls had been built every half mile with checkpoints. The idea was simple: if a section was breached, the wall would keep it from spreading. All it took was one bite from a zombie to turn dozens of others into monsters or a smart zombie inside killing people without being caught.

  “I’m hot,” said Jeremy, one of the younger members of the recon team. Tosha thought he was an idiot. A pretty boy. He was barely twenty but acted like he was fifteen at times, talking about playing videogames and watching anime. Tosha had slept with him but she wouldn’t again. She didn’t have the patience to train Jeremy properly.

  “We’re in Florida,” Bernie said. Tosha knew she also thought Jeremy was an idiot. “Spread out. You’re too close to me. Would it kill you to follow simple directions?”

  “Asshole,” Jeremy muttered under his breath but moved to his right.

  The recon team was six people, with three men Tosha didn’t know personally. She didn’t need to ask for their names because they’d be switched out for three new faces tomorrow.

  Tosha had asked The Lich Lord why he kept moving everyone around, yet she and Bernie had been the set two leading the first recon team each day.

  “I want to give everyone a taste of every job. See what skills they possess. See what jobs excite them so everyone is where they need to be. I’ve already found the spot for you and
Bernie. Outside the walls finding the things we need and killing the things we need dead,” The Lich Lord had answered. “Until I find someone who can kill without remorse like you or follow you blindly like Bernie does, you’re the core of the team.”

  Tosha couldn’t argue with his logic. After every patrol, he’d ask her who was worth keeping on the team. None of them excited Tosha.

  Lately they had been unchallenged. Yesterday they hadn’t seen a zombie at all unless you counted the many rotting dead.

  It meant a smart zombie was in the area and clearing out his territory. Tosha needed to figure out where it was hiding.

  “There’s a mall up ahead,” Bernie said. “I wonder if anyone cleared it yet.”

  Tosha stopped and sent out a thought to The Lich Lord, who was hidden away in the Ocean Center in darkness. She knew he could no longer go out in the light. She wondered if he’d explode like in those great old horror movies or if he’d start to sparkle and drip away.

  If you imagine me like a sparkly vampire again I will rip you apart, The Lich Lord said in her head. Tosha could hear the humor in his thoughts. It was the game they sometimes played. I won’t explode. The sunlight drains me. It’s uncomfortable.

  Tosha was still uncomfortable letting him into her head like this. It was easier than driving all the way back to The Promised Land and chatting for awhile, though. She mentally asked him about the mall.

  It was cleared once. Many months ago. Before you joined us. I’m sure there’s nothing of value left inside, The Lich Lord said to Tosha.

  “I hate malls,” Tosha said to Bernie. “Nothing good ever comes out of me going into a mall. Pre or post apocalypse. I either spend too much or get attacked by a horny zombie. We’re not going to the mall today.”