Dying Days 8 Read online

  “This makes it easier. He wants us all dead. Why not get us all together and crush every last human in one battle? If he’d wanted to, he could’ve kept the attack going and wiped us out. He turned back and it had nothing to do with Darlene taking a stand, if you want my opinion. The fucker wanted to show us what he was capable of but he wasn’t ready to do it yet. This is a fun game to him. I think he’s swelling our ranks so many of them will die on first strike because they’re not behind solid walls. The zombies will ravage through what’s left of The Promised Land and anyone hiding behind these thin walls of Main Street will see the futility,” Tosha said.

  “We’re already dead,” Bernie said.

  Tosha grabbed Bernie by the arm and got close to her face. “No. We’re alive. The one percent of one percent still fighting this shit. Remember that. We’re going to live to be old, wrinkled people. I still have a lot of fuck left in me.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Tosha puckered her lips and moved slowly towards Bernie.

  “Get lost. You know I’m not into chicks,” Bernie said and pushed away with a laugh.

  “Figured it was worth a shot,” Tosha said. She looked up at the building across the street. “I’ll be up there. Ready to shoot every last one of these fucks if they do something stupid or you give me the signal.”

  “Let’s hope we have a good dinner. I’ll save you a burger.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dinner was served and Terry licked his lips.

  “Is that real duck? I’ve never had duck,” he said and nodded when one of the women dumped a pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.

  “Would you like some wine?” Mister Borden asked.

  “Sure. Aren’t you going to join me?” Terry asked, noticing he hadn’t touched his food or glass yet. Then it hit him and he waved his hand.

  “I prefer to eat in my room. I’m very particular when it comes to food,” Mister Borden said. “Everyone understands.”

  “Do they?” Terry asked, regretting it. The last thing he wanted was to get killed by this zombie and not on a full stomach. “I mean… oh, fuck it.” He glanced at the women still in the room. “Do they know what you really are?”

  Mister Borden smiled. “All I am is a man who got lucky and survived. Same as they did. I’m no hero; although, I’ve kept everyone safe, especially when we were surrounded by so many zombies. Nasty things, those zombies. Mindless fools trying to eat and rape people. I’m glad I drove them away. We haven’t had a sighting in many hours.”

  Terry smiled. “And they assume you had something to do with it?”

  Mister Borden grinned. “Can you prove I didn’t?”

  Terry took a bite of duck and sighed. It tasted so good. “I can prove it but something tells me I shouldn’t and I should just let you do your thing. I’m just someone passing through… unless there’s a place here for me.”

  “You’ve run into my kind before. It’s obvious,” Mister Borden said.

  “Because I wasn’t that impressed when you came to the cage or because I knew what you were right away?”

  Mister Borden tapped the side of his head with a finger. “Because I read your mind. I want to know more about The Lich Lord.”

  Shit. Terry had forgotten they could do shit like get into your head. He’d need to block his thoughts if he could.

  “You can’t block your thoughts from me so don’t even try. And even thinking about killing me, like you tried with The Lich Lord, won’t work. These people love me. They see me as their grandfather. Their protector in these troubling times. Do you have any idea how quickly they’d turn on you if you tried to gather anyone who wanted to usurp my authority?” Mister Borden sat back and smiled. “How’s the duck?”

  “Delicious,” Terry said. He looked down and took another bite.

  “I’m not going to kill you. I need someone as cunning as you on my side,” Mister Borden said. He waved his hand. “These people are nice and all but they offer no intellectual challenge. I want to feel alive again.”

  Terry dug into the mashed potatoes.

  “You know what I like about you, Terry?”

  Terry shook his head.

  “Nothing,” Mister Borden said and laughed. “Sorry. Old joke but it’s true. You’re the worst of the worst. I’ve gone through your memories and it’s like a bad horror movie in there. A snuff film. You’re a pitiful human being but there’s a real need for someone like you. A man who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Go the extra mile, climbing through the sewers. Do as you’re told because you expect something on the other end. A man who can be bought and sold.”

  Terry shrugged and kept eating.

  “I believe there’s chocolate cake for dessert. Are you a fan?” Mister Borden asked.

  “Yes.” Terry looked up from his plate. “Why are you called Mister Borden?”

  “My name is William Borden. I always hated my name, especially when people called me Billy. My dad was Billy Borden. I hated the ground he walked on. If there was one thing I could change in this world, it would be the cancer not taking him six months before I was bitten. I’d love to have him with me now to torture,” Mister Borden said and sighed. “I’d break that man. I really would.”

  “Why not change your name? You can be anything. Fuck, you’re really not Billy Borden anymore anyway. You might look like him. You might have some of his memories, but you’re no longer that guy. He died when he was bitten,” Terry said.

  “I can’t argue with that. Any other pithy comments before dinner is done?”

  Terry shrugged. “I’m sure you are reading the questions in my head. Why waste my breath when I can fill my mouth with more food?”

  Mister Borden tapped his finger on the table. He looked over at the two women waiting patiently. “Our guest would like another plate of food.”

  “You’re very generous,” Terry said.

  “We have enough food to last us many months and I know where more supplies are hidden. As long as other people follow what we’re doing, we’ll never starve,” Mister Borden said. He smiled. “I’ll never starve regardless.”

  “What do you want to do with me? I told you I’d stay and help out… especially if you promise chocolate cake and more of these potatoes,” Terry said.

  “I’m trying to decide, to be honest. It could go either way. This is either your last meal or you’ll become my right hand man. You seem horrible enough to get things done but you might be too much work to break,” Mister Borden said.

  “I knew a guy named Billy once. Worked with him in a garage. He was the head mechanic. Real douche bag. I think he was the owner’s son-in-law or something like that,” Terry said and thanked the woman who swapped Terry’s empty plate for another full one. “It was the weirdest thing: somehow crushed glass got mixed in with his lunch a couple of days in a row. It was really gross to see someone choking and spitting up blood at the same time. Like in a prison movie.”

  “Where did you learn a move like that?” Mister Borden asked.

  Terry smiled and scooped a massive helping of mashed potato with his fork. “In prison.”

  Mister Borden laughed and snapped his finger. “As soon as he’s had his fill, get him a big slice of chocolate cake.”

  Terry nodded. “I appreciate it.”

  Mister Borden stood. “I have business to attend to. Someone will show you to your quarters. Welcome to our group.”

  Terry put up a finger. “I do have one question.”

  Mister Borden smiled.

  “How can you go out in the daylight? The Lich Lord had to hide during the day like a vampire. I thought it was your only weakness,” Terry said.

  “If you know what you’re doing and understand the true power you wield, you get the fact there are no limitations. There is nothing you can’t do. The Lich Lord thought he couldn’t go out into the light but he could’ve. He could’ve done anything he wanted,” Mister Borden said.

  “Fair enough. I just hope you’re ri
ght,” Terry said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Terry cut a chunk of duck and stabbed it with his fork. “The Lich Lord thought he was invincible. He was about as confident and arrogant as you. He was defeated, as far as I know.”

  “I’ll have to go look and see if he’s still in control. Enjoy your cake,” Mister Borden said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bernie waved April and Carlie over to where she was standing, about to join everyone at dinner. She looked around, making sure no one was trying to listen in.

  “I need you two to hold back in line. Keep your ears open for anything odd going on. I don’t want any trouble, and I have a bad feeling, if there’s going to be a problem, it will be when everyone is watching,” Bernie said.

  They’d made sure dinner tonight was done in three shifts so they had enough time to prepare food and make sure everyone had a seat in the communal tables in the middle of Main Street.

  This is how we used to do it, she thought. Bernie chuckled. She was acting like it was years ago instead of a couple of days.

  Things had certainly changed and quickly.

  “If I hear anything disturbing, one of us will ask you for some of your tea. How’s that sound?” April asked.

  “I like the way you think,” Bernie said and thanked both women, who wandered off to blend in with the crowd.

  She’d send word to the six main groups she wanted their leader to dine with her at the end of the table near the gates. She’d sit at the head. It allowed her to see all six at the same time and she knew Tosha would be above for coverage.

  Bernie prayed Tosha wasn’t needed to shoot someone at the dinner table. It would lead to absolute chaos.

  As she walked back to where she’d be seated, she kept telling herself not to look up and see if Tosha was in position. Anyone with half a brain would know something was up.

  If they had half a brain, they’d know she was covered anyway, Bernie thought.

  The first person she saw was Profit, followed a few feet behind by Jada, who didn’t have a weapon Bernie could see. She knew the woman probably had a dozen blades hidden on her person and a couple of pistols.

  “Hello again. I hope we can sit close to one another tonight,” Profit said to Bernie, all smiles and charm. He’d changed into more casual clothing but she could see the telltale bump of the weapon under his shirt.

  Bernie really didn’t blame him. She had two small arm weapons on her as well and a shooter on the roof ready to kill without hesitation.

  “You can sit here,” Bernie decided. It was between her and Tosha above and she knew Tosha was cursing her out right now. If it turned out Profit was using his sexiness to woo Bernie and keep her off-guard and make her think he was not worried about an attack, it was definitely working.

  Plus, Bernie knew Tosha would figure out a way to take his head off if he did something stupid.

  Jada sat down with five seats between her and Profit and Big Man sat on the other side right between. They were close enough to work together if it came to that but far enough they couldn’t all be killed easily.

  Bernie had to silently applaud the three, because she knew she and Tosha would’ve figured out the same game plan.

  “Where’s the redhead? Tosha, right?” Profit asked.

  Bernie knew damn well he knew her name. She smiled. “She’s hanging around somewhere.”

  Profit smiled and looked up at the building across from where he was sitting, definitely scanning the roof. He waved his hand, which made Jada groan.

  “I’m sure this will be a lovely evening. Do you have any special events planned?” Profit asked Bernie.

  Bernie pointed at the stage over her shoulder. “After the third shift of meals, everyone is welcome to hear music. We have an electric violinist who is really excellent.”

  Profit perked up. “Is it just her or an entire band? I play bass but lost mine during a zombie apocalypse. Have you heard of it?”

  “Zombies? No. Can’t say I have,” Bernie said and laughed. Profit was staring too long and it made her nervous and giddy at the same time. He was definitely flirting hard.

  “I’m Len,” a man wearing sunglasses despite it being dark out said and sat across from Profit. “I run the 609 Group. It looks like we added a few new members today because the stragglers keep coming in. People we had to shake, on the road from New Jersey, when we were ambushed a few times.”

  “Welcome. Eat and drink. I hope the sleeping arrangements are good?” Bernie asked.

  Len grabbed the pitcher of wine. They’d made sure to water it down so none of the new guests had the excuse of being drunk and causing trouble.

  “I slept in a drainage ditch two days ago with six other people who also hadn’t showered in a month. The sleeping accommodations are a definite upgrade,” Len said.

  A bald woman sat down next to Len and she and Jada sneered at one another like feral cats trying to dominate the same territory.

  “Welcome,” Bernie said quickly.

  The woman turned to Bernie and gave a half-smile. She was dressed like she’d walked off the set of Mad Max, with leather pants and a leather vest barely covering her ample chest. Both of her arms were full sleeves of tattoos and so was her neck and chest. There was a small tat on the side of her head, just above the ear, that said dirty deeds.

  “Are you an AC/DC fan?” Profit asked, tapping his head.

  The woman looked confused before shaking her head. “It’s not about the song. I read a book once with the title and it stuck with me. It was the last book I ever read, actually. I got the tat in Atlanta right before they burned the city to the ground.”

  Bernie made introductions of everyone near her at the table.

  “I’m Courtney,” the bald woman said. “You can just call me Court. Everyone does.”

  Bernie didn’t think she looked like a Courtney. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t feminine but she was too rough around the edges to be a Courtney. Maybe she had changed her name. Maybe she used to look like a Courtney.

  “We came from Texas. Fled Dallas and then had to go around Houston because of the zombies. Thankfully I-10 in Louisiana still had a bridge you could cross,” Profit said.

  Bernie ignored her food as she watched them interact.

  Another three leaders joined the table but it was obvious they all knew their spot was to follow the others because they didn’t have the numbers.

  Bernie was fascinated by Courtney and she couldn’t help watch the woman as she ate and listened to the conversation, only talking when someone asked her a direct question.

  She is a Courtney. This Goth tough bitch look is just an act. She’s watching everyone, making sure she doesn’t say anything stupid. Wanting to keep her distance and not show weakness, Bernie thought. She was becoming a good judge of character. It was one of the things keeping her alive. Bernie would have to figure out how she became a leader since she didn’t act like she wanted the attention.

  Len had finished the wine quickly and smiled at Bernie. “Any chance there’s another couple of gallons of this? I’d love to sleep off a hangover tonight.”

  Bernie shook her head. “It’s the last of it. There are a few pitchers on the table down the line but we don’t have the means to make more or anyone who seems to know how to do it.”

  “I’ll be back,” Len said and got up to take wine from another table.

  Profit turned to Bernie. “I’d like to offer our services. Whatever you need.”

  “That’s very generous. I’d like to mix in the new survivors with us. You have a better idea who can do what job, or used to do what in another lifetime. We’re in need of not only those who can shoot but those who can plant and cook. Repair weapons and clothing,” Bernie said.

  “Jada is our resident killer. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to offer her services when it comes to killing zombies,” Profit said.

  Jada sighed and dropped her fork on her plate, clearly annoyed she’d been volunteered.r />
  Bernie hid her smile behind a forkful of her dinner.

  Profit leaned closer to Bernie. “What else do you do around here for fun?”

  Bernie knew she was blushing. “We watch the electric violinist after dinner.”

  She wanted to die. How lame of an answer could she give?

  The rest of the meal was uneventful, with small talk and trading information about where everyone had come from and what was left behind. It was usually nothing standing, as the zombies had slowly closed everyone in and destroyed the retreat paths.

  When Bernie was finished, she thanked everyone for coming and said she’d see them in the morning for breakfast.

  Big Man raised his hand and asked what was for breakfast.

  Bernie shrugged. “I imagine eggs and maybe bacon.”

  Big Man smiled and got up from the table.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Profit said and left with a grin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There were so many zombies, in a tight pack on the road, Darlene didn’t know if she could clear them with her sword.

  She’d decided to tackle this old school, instead of wasting her powers. While she knew she was recharged and she could expend enough energy without worry to wipe out every zombie from here to the horizon, she was wary.

  Her son hadn’t made an appearance since the attack. No probing her thoughts. No taunting.

  He’d gone into hiding and she didn’t know why.

  Darlene didn’t want to jump into the middle of the horde and be surrounded. She didn’t think they could hurt her but she also didn’t want to take a chance she was wrong.

  The first two zombies on the edge of the row ignored her, staring ahead and unmoving.

  Darlene swung and took off both of their heads with one clean swipe.

  The two headless bodies fell to the ground.

  Not a single zombie moved out of place or glanced at her; although, she could see they were all slowly rocking an inch or two forward and back, like they were waiting for a signal to move as one unit.