Dying Days [Book 9] Page 10

  They stopped and ducked behind a chunk of cement debris.

  Tosha crawled around to the other side with her rifle.

  “What do you see?” Mitch asked.

  “I see the pickup trucks down the road. Parked. No one in them. I think we’re fucked,” Tosha said.

  Mitch was about to ask if she saw anything else when he heard three shots ring out, one of them kicking up dust as it bounced off the cement above his head.

  Tosha was back next to him with a grin. “This shit I can handle. A couple dozen guys with guns taking shots at us. Much better than all these fucking zombies.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “Any last words?” Mister Borden asked Darlene.

  She sighed. “Seriously? You couldn’t come up with something else lame? You’ve been dead for months. Supposedly a superior intellect right now. Except you’re relying on stupid questions and really weak talk. Are you going to fight me or talk me to death?”

  “That is not dead which can eternal lie… and with strange aeons even death may die,” Mister Borden said.

  “Again… lame. Every idiot Goth kid from my high school knew that line. Hell, I knew an asshole who worked in the shoe department in the department store who had it tattooed on his skinny, pasty arm. You want to hang out and quote shit?” Darlene could see he was stalling but not because he had backup on the way. He was scared, if that was possible.

  “I’m giving you time to live,” he said.

  “Bullshit. You think your friends are going to show up and jump me from behind.” Darlene stared at Mister Borden as she waved her hand behind her.

  He looked pissed.

  “Oops. Was I not supposed to cut down six of your buddies who thought they’d sneak up? My bad. I was under the impression you actually thought you could beat me in a fair fight.”

  “Who fights fair these days? It’s so unfashionable.” Mister Borden was shuffling his feet like he didn’t know whether to charge her or run away.

  Either option was a death sentence.

  “I don’t suppose you’d just let me kill you and be done with this?” Darlene asked.

  “I’ve lived a long and fruitful life. I see the writing on the wall. I was sent to kill you, even though there is no chance of me doing it.”

  Darlene frowned. “My son sent you so I’d waste some power. He’s using you.”

  Mister Borden put up his hands. “Even if, by some divine miracle, I defeat you, your son will still kill me. Lose-lose prospect. I know what my best case scenario really is.”

  “What’s that?”

  He smiled. “I kneel down and bow my head and let you kill me without a fight.”

  Darlene used her powers to make sure there weren’t other zombies sneaking up on her while he babbled. Satisfied they were still alone she took a step forward. “I get close and you use everything you’ve got to give it a shot and put me down. I’ve seen too many bad movies and TV shows with this scene.”

  “Me, too.” He dropped to his knees and folded his arms. “I’m sacrificing myself.”

  “It makes no sense.”

  “It does if you’ve actually spent time with your son. In the few minutes he threatened and coerced me, I knew the only real choice I had was to do this. After your power display taking my friends out so quickly, I know I have no chance. I’m good with it because, if your son wins, he’s planning on destroying the world. Not just figuratively, either. The crazy bastard wants to annihilate the planet.” Mister Borden closed his eyes. “Just do it already so you can conserve your energy and stop him.”

  Darlene circled warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, her son was going to attack or Mister Borden would morph into a fucking dragon or something like that.

  “Promise me you’ll take him down,” Mister Borden said.

  “It’s what I’m going to do but not for you. He owes me for ruining quite a few things in this part of my life.” Darlene took a step forward, coming up directly behind him.

  Mister Borden nodded, giving her a clear path to his neck.

  Darlene could use her powers and cut his head off.

  It would be what her son wanted. Every drop wasted made her weaker.

  Mister Borden leaned his head forward, presenting an even better target.

  Darlene reached out with her hand, expecting an attack at any moment.

  She put her fingers on his neck and he went rigid.

  “I hope you find a better place than this.” Darlene wrapped her fingers around his neck and put her other hand on his shoulder.

  “So do I.”

  Darlene snapped his neck and yanked his head off the body.

  She spun around, expecting a thousand smart zombies or her son to be witness to what she’d done.

  She was alone on the beach.

  Darlene had had enough.

  She decided to not only yell to make herself feel better but shout it out in her mind so her son would hear it, too.

  He was nearby. Just out of her range. Taunting his mother.

  “Enough of this shit already. Everyone else important is either dead or in hiding. The zombies are wandering around like assholes with nothing to do. I’ve killed most of the people with guns and I’ll kill the rest once I’m done spanking your ass. Now show yourself and let’s get this over with, or I’m leaving to rest and recover my powers so I can fuck you up even more than I intend to,” Darlene shouted.

  I asked you not to use profanity, mother. Was grandma a potty-mouth, too?

  “If your grandmother was alive, she’d whip your ass with a belt. She’d probably hold you still so her husband, your grandfather, could put lead in your head with the Desert Eagle strapped to my side.” Darlene turned in a circle, hoping to see the little bastard.

  She was done with this shit.

  A figure stepped out onto the sand but it wasn’t her son.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The current kept carrying Bernie away from the spot where Profit had gone under. She tried to fight it but it was no use. She was being carried away.

  Zombies were splashing into the river on both sides.

  She had three choices: swim with the current and let it take her as far away as possible, aim for the boat dock and get back on dry land or fight millions of gallons of water pushing her in the wrong direction to try to save Profit.

  He’d been underwater for too long.

  Bernie dove under, hoping the current wasn’t as strong.

  It was even stronger and she was pushed downstream.

  She’d glimpsed zombies under her feet, inches away, but no Profit.

  Bernie swam as far as she could without breaking the surface, trying to get as far away as possible. She tried to swim into the middle of the river, where it was deepest and a lesser chance of getting dragged under for good.

  Like maybe Profit had…

  She went up and filled her lungs with air.

  Bernie didn’t have a backup plan. Everyone in The Promised Land was dead. The only person she knew was probably still running around was Darlene, and she was more than just a person.

  What am I going to do now? Float down the river until I hit the shore or get dragged under by rotting hands? Did any of this matter anymore? Bernie stopped fighting the current and let it take her.

  Drowning was preferable to being eaten by zombies.

  She flashed back to all those weeks ago, hiding in the trunk of a car and waiting for the zombies to pass her by.

  What had been the motivation for living then? Bernie couldn’t remember.

  She wanted to float on her back and let the sun warm her face while she drifted off into the great unknown.

  “Hey. Need a ride?”

  Bernie turned to see Profit hugging a tree limb about fifty feet from her, further down the river and getting pulled along.

  Despite him looking like he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life, with a swollen eye and cuts on his face, he was smiling.

  �
��If you don’t mind sharing your branch.”

  Profit tapped it with his hand. “Plenty of room for a pretty girl like you.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Bernie hoped she had enough strength to get to him. She couldn’t keep her head above water indefinitely and her arms were like rubber bands.

  “I can’t come to you,” Profit said.

  It took a lot of effort but Bernie swam to Profit and grabbed onto the tree limb as it floated downstream. She got right next to Profit even though there was plenty of space on the limb.

  “Now what do we do?” she asked. She couldn’t help smiling.

  “We float down the lazy river and try not to get pulled under by monsters.” Profit put his head down in his arms on the tree limb. “I’m gonna stare into your eyes for awhile.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Bernie met his gaze. “What’s your real name?”

  “Profit.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t said my God-given name in too long. Not sure if I want to be that person anymore. Profit was always my nickname, even in high school. Not because I was gangsta or anything. I just… someday I’ll tell you and you’ll understand.”

  “Tell me now. What if this is the last log I float on? We could die at any moment. Literally.”

  He shook his head. “Nah. We got plenty of life left in us, Bernie. More than enough time for me to tell you my real name. Until then it will keep you going. Give us something to look forward to.”

  “You think not knowing your name is keeping me so interested I’m trying to stay alive? You’re either super arrogant or you know something I don’t know.”

  Profit raised a finger and touched her nose. “I know when you’re going to learn my real name.”

  “When?”

  “When we’re somewhere safe. Clear of The Promised Land. Sitting beside a nice fire with food and a bottle of Hennessy,” Profit said.

  Bernie snorted. “Why does every good-looking black man I meet have to drink Hennessy? For once I’d love for the man to drink bourbon. That’s a manly drink.”

  Profit laughed. “Bourbon? Even when I lived in Kentucky I refused to drink bourbon. Not my style. You drink bourbon? A proud black woman? You should be drinking moscato.”

  “You think I’m a rap star? I don’t like wine. I also don’t like being stereotypical… you know, like a black man drinking Hennessy.”

  “Tell me what you like to drink and I’ll make sure we find you a bottle or two.” Profit put his hand down on top of hers.

  “I like Pappy Van Winkle.”

  “Did you just make that up?” Profit asked.

  “Nope. It’s a really good bourbon. I dated a guy who owned an alcohol distributorship outside of Atlanta. He turned me onto it.”

  “He doesn’t sound like a black dude.”

  “And you sound like a racist,” Bernie said.

  Profit laughed. “I knew he wasn’t a black dude.”

  “He told me his real name.”

  “How do you know? Did you see his driver’s license?”

  Bernie shook her head. “I doubt he’d make up Calvin as his name.”

  “Maybe he came up with something so lame to fool you.”

  “I’m not sure why he’d do it. If he was trying to fool me, he’d come up with a super-bad nickname his mom probably gave him in high school.” Bernie grinned. “You know, like maybe Profit.”

  “That hurts. That really stings.”

  Bernie glanced over her shoulder downstream. “How far are we going?”

  “Until we’re so waterlogged we’re ready to quit. Then we go another mile or two just to make sure the zombies aren’t going to find us.” Profit squeezed her hand.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  April saw Carlie on the upper deck of a house, watching their former friends walk down the beach.

  “We need a signal from now on,” Carlie said.

  “For what? You see it’s me coming.”

  “I saw that asshole point a gun at you.” Carlie was talking but still watching those on the beach. “I figured you could handle it. What did the old woman say before she shot him?”

  “Not a word. She basically threatened me after she killed him, though. I don’t think we’ll be welcome at the stilt houses when dad recovers.” April stared at her sister and laughed. The rifle was bigger than her. “I’m coming in.”

  April took a step and stopped, looking back up. “What if he’d shot me?”

  “You would’ve been dead and then I would’ve killed all of them. Dad’s in the kitchen with mom.”

  “I guess it never dawned on you to shoot before he killed me?”

  Carlie shrugged and smiled. “Who can say? Besides, even from this range I could see his hand shaking and the sweat on his face. He was hoping you didn’t call his bluff. If the old lady hadn’t taken the law into her own hands, you had a fifty-fifty shot of walking away.”

  “Comforting.” April went inside.

  Her father had his eyes closed and his breathing was labored.

  “How can I help?”

  Her mother looked up from her father and frowned. “We need a med kit.”

  “I’ll search the house.” April found the nearest bathroom but it had been trashed a long time ago, the toilet and sink smashed in the tub. The medicine cabinet was empty.

  This block of houses, all between the beach and A1A, were huge sprawling mansions. A lot of ground to cover, and obvious locations survivors would’ve picked clean.

  In fact, she remembered seeing the list of scouting groups from The Promised Land headed in this direction.

  April had only been on a few missions and always with Tosha.

  She wondered where Tosha was. If she was still alive.

  If anyone’s still alive, it’s that bitch, April thought and grinned.

  The rest of the house was empty. Walls had been kicked in and someone with the graffiti tag Edler had done a number on most surfaces of the upper bedrooms.

  “I need to go next door and see if I can find anything. Cover me?” April asked Carlie.

  “You got it. Yell if you get into trouble. I’ll shadow you from the yard. Our former friends have gone far enough I can’t see them but there’s a trail of zombies following them. That works out for us.” Carlie followed April downstairs and back outside.

  April found the back doors of the next house open, a pile of sand spread across the living areas. All of the glass in the windows and doors had been blown out.

  At least a couple of small animals were living here, based on the nests and droppings.

  Wasps buzzed overhead, their mud hive stuck to the chandelier.

  Dark splotches on the walls that could only be dried blood.

  April didn’t see footprints in the sand, which meant no one had been here in awhile. At least in this part of the house.

  She looked back to see Carlie, rifle in hand, watching from behind a tree.

  April did a quick but thorough search of the house, coming up empty.

  If there was going to be anything of value, it wouldn’t be in such an obvious place. In the beginning of this shitstorm, she imagined many people looting the rich, thinking they had the food and the guns.

  It was what she would’ve done.

  A block or two away from the beach was where she needed to look.

  She went back outside to her sister.

  “I need to go further. You stay here and guard our parents.” April checked her weapon even though she hadn’t used it yet. “I’ll be fine. If I don’t return by dark, I’m not coming back.”

  “If you don’t return before dark, our father won’t make it through the night.”

  “I didn’t say I was leaving. I’ll be back unless something bad happens to me,” April said.

  “Then probably don’t let that happen, dumbass.” Carlie smiled. “See if you can find me lipstick while you’re out. Some
thing bright and gaudy.”

  April was off, crossing A1A and skirting a golf course, overgrown and wild. There was movement in the grass and she knew it was likely a very large snake or maybe even a gator.

  All of Florida would bite her ass off if she wasn’t careful.

  She needed to make this quick. Time was not on her side.

  The nearest block looked like a bulldozer had driven through it, destroying houses. She fast-walked to the other end of the block. Not one house had survived.

  All she could do was keep moving, following a side road to the next block.

  April was worried she was wasting too much time. Wandering around was going to get her noticed and attacked.

  This will be the last block and then I need to go back, she thought. April knew if she failed to find anything of value she’d go back to the mansion to watch her father die.

  The first three houses were nothing more than foundations, the block houses piles of rubble and anything flammable long torched.

  She kept walking, sweating in the sunlight and wishing she had shade.

  Most of the houses had been looted. If anyone was left in this area, they were a zombie. She wondered if the people at The Promised Land had searched this area before the Hand family had arrived.

  As she walked, she looked at the homes on either side and one caught her eye.

  The front doors to the house were open. The roof had been ripped open like a giant can opener had peeled it back.

  April could see a pile of boxes in the center of the living room and she stopped.

  A can of corn and a box of ammo caught her eye.

  April got down and ran to the rusting vehicle in the driveway to get a closer look.

  The boxes looked intact. From this angle, she could see a pile of blankets and pillows, too.

  It was definitely a trap.

  April scanned with her rifle, taking her time so she didn’t miss anything or anyone.

  There was no way this was just sitting out in the open, where anyone walking by would see it.

  After ten minutes, staying hidden and trying to be as patient as possible, knowing her father was back there dying, April stepped out.