The Dead Survive (Book 2): Fallback Read online

  “Marcus,” Davey called, “should we start shooting?”

  Our team leader hesitated, weighing the need to kill these things and the noise drawing even more. “Top marksmen, see if you can thin the ones closest to us. Keep ammo in reserve, though. I don’t think this is anywhere near over.”

  Theo ran up to us, his face at least as white as Melissa’s, which scared me more than anything. “Marcus, you gotta see this.”

  Marcus’ brows drew together and his jaw clenched, but he followed Theo about thirty feet along the railing, where they leaned out and peered over the edge. The inventive tirade of curses that followed could probably be heard for miles, even over the sporadic gunfire that started from positions along the rail. We all raced to see what had our leader so enraged.

  It took me a moment to make sense of what I saw. One door stood wide open, and zombies were massed around it. I caught a white flutter of movement at the top of the door as a skeletal hand swiped at it.

  “Is that…a chicken?” Ty asked.

  Goddamn, that was exactly what it was. One of our chickens, tied by the feet and attached to the top of the doorframe, drawing the zombies right to the open door. Why hadn’t I heard it squawking? With another glance, I saw the chicken appeared to end somewhere around the wings, so it had probably stopped squawking shortly after the explosions stirred up the dead.

  Son of a traitorous bitch.

  Rebecca grabbed Marcus and got in his face. “We have to go down there, right now!” She gestured toward another open door, with a similarly bloody chicken above it, and more zombies converging. “If I went to the trouble to open a door and bait it with chickens, you can bet your ass I’d open up the adjoining door and the door to the other room leading right into the courtyard.”

  At that, Marcus shifted gears and became our calm, cool commander. He assigned marksmen to keep shooting from the walkway, a team to head to the courtyard and eliminate any zombies that had gotten inside, and, “Secure those fucking doors!”

  The rest of us, the melee fighters, headed down to the lot and into the thick of the battle. Ty, Rebecca, Theo, and I teamed up again, and started fighting. We forced our way through the zombies massed near the building, leaving those for the marksmen and archers above. We needed room to maneuver. Rebecca had on a black motorcycle jacket, despite the warm night, and I wished I’d thought to don something with long sleeves; my bare arms were vulnerable to scratches.

  We finally got to a point where we could spread out and formed a rough square facing out, protecting each other’s backs as we took down zombie after zombie, edging our way across the lot. The battle was so intense I had no idea where the rest of our team was, and hoped they were holding their own. We had our hands full. All I saw was an endless collage of ruined faces, missing limbs, and ragged, blackened wounds. Young and old, every shape and size, some clothed, some less so, I swung again and again, switching my machete and dagger from one hand to the other, depending on the attack style needed.

  Beside me, Rebecca sent heads rolling and punctured eye sockets. If she loved combat as much as I always suspected, she was truly in her element.

  Theo was behind me, so I couldn’t see what he was doing, and I didn’t dare turn to look. On my other side, Ty was wielding his spear like a bo to set his shots, then plunging the deadly point into his targets. His hammer swung heavily at his side, ready to hand if needed.

  Behind us, shots continued to ring out and arrows sang as they cut through the air. “We need another weapon,” Ty wheezed. “Molotovs?”

  “No,” Rebecca grunted, taking down a zombie with a backstroke of her sword. “Flaming corpse gets inside the building, we got a whole new problem.”

  That was one cheery damned thought.

  My arms were tiring. I needed a second. Just a second. I whirled to find my next target and was surprised to discover nothing lunging at me. Suddenly we had those few precious moments to regroup and reposition to take on another group emerging from the forest.

  From the walkway, Marcus shouted, “Sweep!”

  I looked up and saw him, his bow back in his hand, pointing toward the woods.

  “Inside is secure for now, we’ve got the ones in the lot. Melee fighters split and sweep, find out where those fuckers are coming from!”

  Oh. Do battle in the dark, treacherous woods. That was…well, pretty much as terrifying as it sounded. But I knew he was right. If they were coming through one ravine or a maintenance road somewhere nearby, and we could block it or at least limit the number coming through, the area around the motel would eventually be cut off from a new flood of dead.

  The four of us exchanged glances, decisions being made without a word. A quick scan of the perimeter of the lot showed other fighters doing the same.

  Ty and I peeled off and ran along the tree line, eventually darting into the woods near one corner of the motel, while Rebecca and Theo chose their own route and did the same. I wanted to find a nice brush pile and crawl underneath it and hide, but I knew I couldn’t. I wasn’t a hider anymore; I was a fighter. I would not let my team down if I could help it, and I wouldn’t be the reason another person died. No more.

  I pulled a small flashlight from the back of my belt, then swung Quinn’s machete and removed the top of the skull of a cadaverous creature. That could’ve been me. I could’ve been one of those if I hadn’t been captured and then rescued by the residents of the Compound. But it wasn’t me, and I had to end these things. I had to stop them from taking any more of us, and maybe I was even giving them peace.

  But right now we just had to fight.

  We continued, our lights crisscrossing the forest, catching zombies in ones and twos, but it soon became clear that if there was a floodgate somewhere, it wasn’t here.

  I was about to say so to Ty, when another explosion sounded. It wasn’t too far from us. We had entered the woods from a point further from the hotel than the other teams, and they likely had their hands full, so it was on us to check it out. I caught a rush of movement off to my left, but when I focused on the area, I saw nothing. It was too fast to be a zombie, though. Maybe a deer.

  I caught my foot on a root, and Ty grabbed my arm, preventing me from falling. I gave him a grateful glance as we moved forward, toward the source of the sound.

  We broke through a stand of brush and found ourselves in a small clearing, and an anguished wail escaped my throat.

  On the other side of the clearing, sitting with his back against a tree and a zombie chewing on his arm, was Cody. Another zombie lay beside him, a grapefruit sized rock beside its caved-in head. Holy fucking hell, how had Cody gotten here? I hadn’t seen him since just before the start of the battle, up on the walkway.

  Before I knew it, I was halfway across the clearing, my dagger in my right hand. In a move eerily reminiscent of the one I’d used yesterday to take down the dead bastard trying to get to Ty, I sank the blade deep into the base of its skull. It dropped like a stone, and Cody pushed it off him.

  The only difference was this time it was too late.

  Cody was so pale his lips were a faint blue. I struggled not to cry at the sight. Ty ran past me and knelt beside Cody.

  “Cody, man, what happened? What’s wrong with your legs?” he asked.

  In the rush of stopping the zombie from eating any more of Cody’s flesh—an act that didn’t really change anything but seemed of monumental importance at the time—I hadn’t noticed his legs. They were stretched in front of him, but bloody and bent at unnatural angles.

  “Broke,” Cody gasped. “Gil. Gil broke ’em. With a hammer.”

  So. It was Gil. He was our traitor. And judging by the shoeprints on Cody’s knees, the asshole had not only broken them with a hammer, he’d then stomped on them a few times for good measure.

  I quickly scanned the edge of the clearing for additional threats. Not finding any, I turned back to Ty and Cody. There was nothing we could do for him, aside from the obvious. My gut wrenched and heaved at the t
hought. This was like Quinn. Too much like Quinn. Bitten, leaning against a tree…dying. I had to hold it together. We needed to know what happened, before it was too late, and we had to offer him some final moments of comfort before we…

  I couldn’t do it. Not again. But we’d cross that bridge later.

  “Cody, we’re going to help you, but first, tell us what you can.” I hated myself even as I spoke the words, but it had to be done. I clasped his hand on the uninjured side and settled beside him.

  He drew a ragged breath, taking care to form his words. “Right before the battle, I saw Marcus was gonna need more arrows. He lost a bunch yesterday, no time to pull ’em before we had to get away. So I…I saw his quiver was almost empty and went to his room to get more.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. I remembered from Quinn, the virus or whatever made us zombies started to take hold as death approached, so if Cody had more to say, he had to say it now. I waited until he gathered himself and went on.

  “I found Gil messing with the radio. He was trying to catch a frequency, calling for base…something. Some base. And bluetick. Bluetick to base.”

  “You caught him,” I said gently, “and he couldn’t let you tell.”

  Cody nodded. His lips were bluer now, and his breath came in fits and starts. “He came at me, swung something at my head…next I knew, I was here.”

  Ty swiped Cody’s long, sandy bangs from his eyes. “What did he say? Did he tell you what he was doing, who he worked for?”

  “Had to be the marauders,” I said. “They want to know where we’re going. If they can catch a team on the road, steal their supplies before they get dug in at a fallback, and maybe take over the location to boot, they’d have us coming and going. Drain a lot of our resources, and leave everybody nowhere to go when they go for the Compound.”

  Cody grunted in agreement, and Ty muttered curses under his breath.

  “But why, Cody? Why didn’t he just kill you here? Why leave you…like this?” I choked a little on those last words.

  “Couldn’t risk you finding me with a cut throat or a bullet wound. You’d know it was somebody inside then,” he rasped. “Had to be a zombie.”

  So the bastard broke his legs, set off another of whatever he’d used to attract the zombies to keep us all busy while he accessed the radio, and waited until the zombies arrived to finish the job. Everybody would assume Cody had run into the woods with the rest of us, gotten cut off, and been overwhelmed. There wouldn’t have been much of him left by the time he was found, but Gil was too clever to risk him being found with a knife or bullet wound, in case the zombies were interrupted at their meal.

  “But…but more came than he expected,” Cody said faintly. He was fading fast. He was hiding over by where you came in, but a few of them saw him, so he had to run before he could be sure they finished me off.” There was a long pause while he gathered his remaining strength. His lips had gone gray now, and his eyes were beginning to cloud.

  “Okay, Cody, that’s enough,” Ty said. “You can rest now.” He gave me a sad, meaningful look.

  “No.” Cody squinted and focused, digging deep. Whatever he had to say must be important. “He…he knows where the fallback is. He laughed about it. F-f-found the map in Marcus’ pouch the first night.”

  Son of a bitch. I remembered when the small herd threatened the farmhouse. Marcus had run out of the parlor in his boxers. No jeans, no belt, no leather pouch. Gil had somehow gotten in there and stolen a look.

  “That’s okay, Cody, that’s good,” I said, squeezing his hand. “If he’s still trying to get to the radio, he hasn’t had a chance to tell them yet.”

  “That’s right, man,” Ty added. “We’ll stop him.”

  I was now sure that flash of movement I’d seen had been Gil racing back to the hotel to access the radio while we were all still busy with the attack. He’d have to sneak back in somehow, and get to Marcus’ room undetected, so we had a little time. But not much.

  “Easy, Cody, easy,” Ty murmured. “We’ll take care of you now.”

  Cody looked at us and gave us one last look at his shy, gentle smile. “I know.”

  Then he closed his eyes. His breathing was slow and shallow; he wasn’t gone yet, but we didn’t have long.

  Oh sweet mercy, I couldn’t. But I had to. Didn’t I? I reached for my dagger and held it in my trembling hand. We didn’t have guns with us. We were sent out to fight, while the marksmen did the shooting. I’d shot Quinn. “I shot Quinn,” I whispered.

  Ty took the dagger from me with his left hand, then clutched mine with his right. “You shot him? Oh, Ellen…baby, I’m sorry.”

  “I had to. He trusted me,” I said simply. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and swiped it away with my free hand. There was no crying in the zombie apocalypse. The thought struck me as hilarious, and I choked on a laugh. I realized I was in danger of becoming hysterical, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. I took a deep breath and centered myself.

  Ty put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. “It’s okay, Ellen. You don’t have to do it this time. I’m here. You’re not alone. You never have to be alone now.”

  I didn’t allow myself to read anything into his words. There would be time enough for that later. For now, I nodded and sniffed, and took Cody’s hand again. It was the least I could do. Ty shifted around on Cody’s other side. The young man’s breathing was sporadic now; we were running out of time. He appeared to be unconscious, though, and that was one small thing to be thankful for.

  Ty carefully placed the point of the dagger at Cody’s temple, and with one hard, precise thrust, it was over.

  We shared a mournful moment, then got down to business. I laid Cody out under some shrubs at the edge of the clearing, while Ty dragged the zombie corpses away.

  Then we turned back toward the hotel and ran.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The angle we’d traveled after entering the woods had taken us almost around the hotel. I would’ve been lost, but there was still occasional gunfire. I hoped that meant the swarm was almost eliminated, and not that we’d been overwhelmed and only a few fighters remained to fire their weapons.

  We arrived at the side opposite the battle, which was good. We couldn’t afford to be delayed. I knew in my gut that seconds mattered. We ripped a mattress aside, cast it to the ground, and raced up one of the outside stairways.

  The doorways flashed by as we ran toward Marcus’ room and burst inside. Gil sprang back in shock, dropping the radio microphone and a folded piece of paper to the floor. “You found him,” he growled.

  “And you’re gonna pay for that, you lousy piece of shit,” I snapped.

  I saw indecision cross his face, and realized he didn’t have a good option. He pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed at me. But if he shot me, Ty would be on him in a heartbeat. He couldn’t take both of us; one of us would take him down.

  The flip side was either way, one of us would probably die in the attempt.

  Gil’s gaze sharpened suddenly, as if he’d come up with an idea. I didn’t like it.

  “Ellen, who are you kidding? I know you. I know your history.” He shifted the gun toward Ty. “You can’t kill a living person, can you? Have you ever killed a person, Ellen?” He paused, pretending to wait for an answer I had no intention of giving him. “I didn’t think so. So all I have to do is kill Tyler here. You’ll come at me, I’ll take you, send my message, hide your bodies, and everybody will think you got torn apart out in the woods.”

  Dammit. It could unfold exactly that way.

  But only if I let it. I had to get him before he decided to eliminate who he perceived as the bigger threat—Ty.

  He was wrong. I could kill him. And right now I wanted to. Very badly. I hadn’t been able to kill Cody, though it was a mercy…but I hadn’t needed to. Ty was right, and it was okay to let him help me, just as I would always be willing—and able—to help him. But
, oh, I could kill this fucker. I hadn’t been sure before, which he’d clearly sensed, but I was plenty sure now. I drew my machete, and the bastard had the nerve to laugh.

  But Ty saw an opening, and took it. While Gil was briefly distracted by my display of bravado, Ty lunged. He crashed into Gil, and both of them fell to the floor, each scrambling for an angle to get in a punch. The gun flew free and came to rest a few feet away, before Gil swiped a hand out to try to grab it and instead sent it skittering under the bed.

  Good. I was terrible with guns. But I was great with a machete. I darted around, trying to line up a clear strike at Gil, the traitorous asshole, but the struggle between the two men was too fluid, too mobile, and I couldn’t risk hitting Ty.

  Gil got a good punch in under Ty’s ribs, likely hitting his solar plexus. Ty let out a long, choking wheeze, and suddenly Gil was on top of him. He whipped a knife from a sheath on his belt and held it to Ty’s throat. “Stop right there, Ellen. One move and I open his throat.”

  “Bullshit,” I said as I watched Ty struggle for breath. “You’ll kill him anyway. You can’t take him in a fair fight. You’d rather face a girl, so you’ll kill him quick. I got nothing to lose.”

  He pressed the point of the blade into Ty’s flesh, and a thin rivulet of blood trickled from the wound. “Then I—”

  Ty erupted beneath him, swinging an arm at the hand holding the knife. It sailed through the air, and I didn’t hesitate. I swung with all my might, my machete sinking deep into the side of Gil’s head. Ty scrambled to his feet and ran to my side, and I collapsed against his chest, dropping my machete. I thought I might faint, but clung to Ty, absorbing his strength, and refused to succumb. The old Ellen would have fainted. Or she’d have broken down in hysterics. Not me. Not now. I could do this.