Dying Days Read online

  “He seemed like he was expecting me to split as soon as possible and head over to St. Augustine. I’m not even sure what’s there.”

  “Civilization. Rebuilding. Electricity. When this started the people up there were smart enough to not just sit around and watch the boob tube and worry. They started blocking the roads, sealing off the main city from everything. The roads in and out were sandbagged and armed men and women patrolled them.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Not really, just smart. And they weren’t the only ones to do so.”

  Darlene frowned. “What?”

  “There are pockets, cities and towns and villages, all over the world, that have so far succeeded in fighting off the undead hordes. Places like Chicago, Austin, Boise, Cooperstown, Salt Lake City, Reading… the list goes on.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “We get information from St. Augustine regularly. We act as their southern patrols and, in turn, they supply us with information and weapons to operate.”

  “Where else?”

  “I know of a few small places that have survived. A place called Belford in New Jersey, the town of Falls River in Massachusetts, somewhere called Dexter, Maine –“

  “You’re a liar,” Darlene blurted. “You can’t know that.”

  “All I can do is pass along the information.”

  “Dexter was aflame when I left.”

  “From what I understand, after the harsh winter past, they were able to rebuild and fortify the roads in and out. The undead up there froze in place. It was easy to chop them down like trees.”

  Darlene folded in the chair. Was it possible? Had she run so far, hundreds and hundreds of miles, to escape the zombies, when all she had to do was stay at home?

  “From reports, it was touch and go for many. About ninety-five percent of the population was killed. You made the right choice leaving.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “You’re still alive.”

  “While everything I knew, everyone I loved is dead. Or are they?”

  Griff shrugged. “Who knows? You very likely might be dead right now if you’d stayed. Perhaps someone you loved would have had to kill you by now.”

  Darlene was feeling overwhelmed and switched the subject before she started to cry. “I’d like to stay here for a while, if that’s alright with you.”

  “I don’t have a problem with it. As long as Murph says it’s alright. I can get you the keys for one of the empty houses tomorrow. You’ll be on your own as far as food, furniture and weapons are concerned. I’m sure everyone will pitch in and help you out. Any skills you have will be appreciated as well.”

  The backdoor opened.

  “Time to leave. It was nice to meet you,” Griff said. “Forgive me if I don’t see you down, but I’m too damn old for that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  John held up a finger, staring at Darlene.

  “God, just ask me out already,” she whispered.

  He waved his hand for her to be quiet. Darlene covered her mouth to stifle a smile and a laugh. When you were out here, with John and a compound bow, you took it seriously.

  Two walking corpses were directly below them, shuffling aimlessly on the road. They were both wearing the tattered remains of police officers, holstered guns still at their sides.

  John pointed two fingers at Darlene and they both notched an arrow to their bow. She stared down the shaft at the zombie on the left and aimed right between his eyes.

  A low grunt from John was the signal and they let fly at the same time. John’s zombie took the arrow in his forehead, and he fell silently to the ground.

  Darlene’s arrow shot high and wide left, missing by at least five feet. Before she could pull another arrow out, John had already fired a second and the arrow ripped through the zombie’s left eye, putting him down.

  “Shit,” she murmured.

  John looked aggravated but didn’t say a word. Instead he put his bow down, pulled a Bowie knife, and slid down the sand dune. Darlene, embarrassed, followed. This was her third day in a row out with John looking for supplies. So far they’d encountered dozens of the undead, nothing salvageable, and she still hadn’t hit a target.

  “Can’t I just use my machete? I can’t even count how many I’ve killed with this thing.”

  “It’s a close-range weapon. What do you do when there are fifteen of them surrounding you?”

  “Swing for the fences,” Darlene replied.

  “I’m amazed you’re still alive.”

  “Lucky, I guess.” Darlene stood watch as John removed the service pistols, extra ammo, two dead walkie-talkies and handcuffs from the two expired cops.

  “With any luck there’ll be a squad car around here with a shotgun and a trunk filled with supplies.”

  “Which way?” Darlene asked.

  “We can cut through and get to a main highway.”

  “Have you been out this way before?”

  “Not really. I’ve picked the peninsula from Anastasia Island to Ormond-by-the-Sea clean over the last twelve months. There isn’t much left but sand and zombies.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  John stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “I found a spot filled with bottles of water.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “And you’re rude.” In the last three days John had been gruff and short with Darlene. He’d spent most of his time in the stilt house in his room with the door closed. Murph said that John had a wife and two young children, and he’d been looking for them. Their bodies hadn’t been found, but the chance that they were living was small. Despite trying to be nice to John – for the sake of getting along and because, honestly, he was a hunk – Darlene wasn’t getting too far with him. Murph had suggested that Darlene earn her keep and learn to shoot, but so far it was backfiring. John had even pled with his father this morning to let him go by himself.

  “Where is this magical land of bottled water?” John said sarcastically.

  “Forget it.” Darlene started walking away. “I’ll just save that card up my sleeve for the next guy that comes along. Maybe he won’t be such a fucking dick.”

  “Nice mouth.”

  “Nice attitude. Do you always treat women this shitty?”

  John grabbed her arm and stopped her.

  He was on the ground, his back and head slamming to the sand, before he could catch his breath.

  “Don’t put your fucking hands on me, got it?” Darlene shook her head and stepped away before she attacked him again. She could feel the anger in her, coursing through her body like a spring. She was ready to snap.

  “Got it. Loud and clear.” John stood and brushed himself off, face red in embarrassment. “I am sorry. It’s just that…”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep moving before we’re surrounded.”

  John put up a hand in protest but Darlene was already twenty feet from him, moving quickly onto a zombie that had appeared. She drew her machete and chopped into its thick neck, driving it backwards. A second cut and its head fell to the sand.

  “I don’t need this,” Darlene said and put the compound bow and arrows on the ground. She shook the machete. “I’d rather die with this in my hand than try to work with that. Sorry.”

  “Not a problem.” John picked up the equipment. “You’re a pretty shitty shot, anyway.” He put on his best smile.

  “Whatever.” Darlene turned away again. She hoped he would think she was being a bitch and not forgiving him, but the reality was that his smile melted her. She didn’t want to see her return smile.

  “We can cut through these side streets and we’ll emerge onto Route 1. With any luck the cop car will be there.”

  They kept to the middle of the street as they moved from the beachside to a totaled neighborhood. The only bodies were charred and unmoving, the houses rotting and scorched. John explained that he’d ransacked this area a few months ago.

  �
�What were you before this?” Darlene asked as they got to the end of the street and pushed through a debris-strewn field. They could see Route 1 ahead.

  “I was a cop in Tallahassee. I was doing my rounds when this… thing happened to everyone. I was across town. My wife and girls were home. I shot my way through miles of undead before getting there.”

  “What happened?”

  “They were gone. Packed and left. The ironic part is that the zombies hadn’t even gotten to that part of town yet. I packed some food, my extra weapons and ammo, and drove to my father’s house. He was ready to go. We went in search of them.”

  Darlene and John emerged onto a deserted highway. “There’s the cop car,” she said.

  They approached cautiously, watching both sides of the road for movement. Just beyond the squad car a pickup truck had flipped across the southbound lane, wedging at least six cars behind it. John pointed to the pileup. They couldn’t see anything moving, but to the outside were thick woods.

  John had an arrow notched and ready to fire. As they drew closer he put it away and drew his knife again. Darlene had the machete out.

  They moved in opposite directions to get around the squad car. Both doors were opened, which wasn’t a good sign. Darlene checked the woods one more time. Empty. Quiet. The hair on the back of her neck rose like in a bad horror movie. She wanted to throw up as she rounded the car and leveled the machete at the open door.

  John was on the other side, but there was no one in the car. No blood, no gore, no body parts. “Shotgun,” he said and climbed into the passenger side. “And a box of shells. Sweet.”

  Darlene relaxed and leaned against the car. “Now what?”

  “The keys are in it.”

  “So?”

  “So we drive this baby as far back as we can and then go home. It’s been too long since I’ve driven one.”

  “Who says you can drive?” Darlene went to climb into the car but John was already in the driver’s seat and smiling. He turned the key and it began to click.

  “So much for that idea.”

  “Not really. It isn’t completely dead. I bet I can get her started. She’s been sitting out here for months.” John popped the hood and got out. “Get in and I’ll tell you when to start it.”

  Darlene jumped in. “Sure, but don’t expect me to move over. I’m the driver, I own the road.”

  John laughed and raised the hood, peering around it at Darlene. “Don’t do anything until I tell you.”

  “You got it.” Darlene could hear a crow in the distance. She wondered why animals hadn’t been affected by the virus, or the plague, or whatever this really was. Maybe Murph knew the answer. She had so many questions for him but never found the time to ask, too content to sit and relax and watch movies.

  The last three days had been the best days in too long, sharing conversation, food and company with another human being. Darlene wondered how many days, weeks or even months between actual conversations she’d had. Besides whispering to herself, of course. “I wonder if I’m crazy,” she murmured.

  “What?” John asked from under the hood. “Did you say something?”

  “Just wondering what’s taking so damn long.”

  “Give me a second. Patience is a virtue.”

  Darlene laughed. “Whatever.”

  John poked his head around the hood and grinned. “Try it.”

  Darlene turned the key and the car hesitated, trying to turn over. For a second she thought it would but it went back to clicking.

  “The belt is loose. Without tools I can’t fix it. Pop the trunk.” John went around and fished through the trunk. “He actually had tools.”

  “Is that a big deal?” Darlene asked, getting out and stretching her legs. A quick look around told her they were still alone.

  “For a cop car? Hell yeah. Everyone knows that you don’t leave shit in a cop car, especially personal items.” John slid under the front of the car.

  “Cops stealing from cops. What’s wrong with that picture?”

  “That’s reality sometimes. You can’t trust anyone,” John said.

  Darlene got back in and sat down, rubbing her eyes. It was hot today, like every other Florida day. She started to hum a Tori Amos tune and wondered if Tori was wandering around California or New York trying to eat people.

  “Try it again.”

  Darlene turned the key. The engine stuttered but then roared to life.

  “Told you I could do it,” John said and slammed the hood closed. “Move over, I’m driving.”

  “John, get in the car. Now.”

  “Not until you move over.”

  “Get in the fucking car.” Darlene drew her Desert Eagle and fired just over John’s shoulder.

  John turned just as seven zombies came within ten feet of them. A glance in the rearview mirror and Darlene held her breath. There were ten coming up behind her and more wandering in from the woods.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first zombie Darlene slammed into with the car landed on the hood. Darlene screamed and pissed herself.

  “Left! Left!” John yelled. “Shoot for that gap.”

  Route 1 was flooded with slow-moving undead, obstacles drawn to the speeding car. She was only doing thirty as she hit the second and third and forth, the car fishtailing as she bump-bumped over the bodies. Unlike movies, hitting them was slowing her down and she knew it was only a matter of time before she lost control of the car and ended up in a ditch.

  They appeared like ants from either side of the road, an endless stream of corpses. Darlene wondered aloud why there were so many.

  “We’re close to the outskirts of St. Augustine right now. We’re trapped between the barriers of the city and these creatures now. There might be hundreds, thousands of them out here.” John wiped sweat from his brow. “Just keep driving.”

  Darlene hit another two zombies, two smaller children, and felt the car lurch to her right. She overcorrected and the car spun out. Her chest slammed into the steering wheel, jarring her.

  “Are you alright?” John asked.

  “Sure.” She lifted her gun and pulled the trigger, just in front of his face, as John covered his ears. The shot, through the opened passenger window, missed her mark. “You drive.”

  “What?”

  Darlene got out of the car, firing at anything close enough to get to them. She ran around the car and slipped into the passenger side. John slid over the seat, threw the car in gear and floored it, immediately running over three undead.

  A mile away, after barreling through ten more undead blocking the path, the road opened up. Single stray zombies crossed their path and it was easy for John to skirt around them.

  “Up ahead is the 207 bridge. We should cross back over there instead of running north into another cluster of them,” John said. “It feels good to drive again.”

  “Yeah, the three minutes I drove were exciting.” Darlene laughed. “My hands are shaking.”

  “My hands always shake, if that’s any consolation.”

  They turned onto Route 207, the gas station and restaurant a smoldering pile of rubble at the entrance. Zombies lurched around the structures but they were too far away to be a threat.

  “We need to be very careful when we get out.”

  “Why are we getting out?” Darlene asked but then saw why. The 207 bridge had been barricaded on this side with a pile of damaged cars, a makeshift fence of wood and metal, and chunks of cement.

  John parked right in front of the barrier. “Watch either side when we get out.”

  They emerged and went to the wall, John searching frantically. “There’s a path hidden up here somewhere. I was told that once you get onto the bridge you can safely cross.”

  A fence had also been erected to either side of the bridge, following the waterline. Zombies were pulling themselves from the water and throwing themselves against the hurdle.

  Darlene trained her Desert Eagle on the road they’d just come from, but it
was empty. So far so good. With any luck we’ll be across and closer to home before they come. Darlene didn’t like the fact that trees covered both sides of the road. There could be a horde a few feet away and she wouldn’t know it. She checked her ammo. Murph had surprised her with two clips for the Desert Eagle, for which she was grateful.

  “I think I found it.”

  “It’s about time,” Darlene said sarcastically. Every second out here, exposed with their backs to the proverbial wall was a mistake. “Lead the way.”

  “I just need to push this block out of the way. You can see the path behind it. I think I need your help,” John said.

  Darlene glanced down the road one more time and did a double-take. “They’re here.”

  A score of zombies had emerged from the left side of the road, pushing through the underbrush and from between the trees. Further down, near the turnoff to 207, she could see a dozen more catching up.

  “We have about five minutes before we’re attacked, just so you know.” Darlene didn’t want to start shooting and draw more attention to them. Five more undead appeared from the other side of the road and started toward them. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t get it.” John was sweating as he tugged on the cement block barring their path. “You need to help me.”

  “I think you need to help me. They’re getting too close.” Before Darlene could point and fire John was already moving past her with an arrow notched to the bow.

  The two closest zombies were put down in quick succession. “Don’t fire unless they get within six feet of me. I can take them out at a farther range. Just feed me arrows until we can clear a zone.”

  John began cutting them down, bombarding the undead with arrows to the head. Darlene had to admit that she was impressed. One came from their left and almost got to them before Darlene saw him and put the Desert Eagle almost to his forehead before shooting.

  “That was too close for comfort,” she said.

  “I agree.” John had cleared them within twenty feet but more now stalked from the woods. “There might be a hundred. I don’t have enough arrows and you don’t have enough bullets.”