The dead had them cornered now two floors below the roof, backed into a waiting room with no way out. Martin was fighting the creatures hand-to–hand, holding them at the door while Jack tried to reload. A purple blood-like substance oozed from numerous wounds and bites covering his body. He punched one of the things in the head, which flew off and landed on the floor to be trampled under countless feet.
Jack raised his gun and shot a creature that had made it past Martin. The blast hit it in the chest, knocking it to the other side of the room.
“It’s no use Jack!” Martin wailed as a wounded dead thing, its lower spine shattered, sank its teeth into his thigh.
“I know,” Jack whispered, letting his shotgun clatter to the floor. He pulled a bandolier of grenades from his backpack, which he had swiped from a fallen friend, and without hesitation he popped the string’s pin and ran into the swarm of undead. “See you in hell, Martin!”
The waiting room burst into a ball of flames, showering the street below with shards of glass and chunks of debris.
The building seemed to shake as Vince bounded up the last steps to the roof. He lost his footing and would have fallen over the railing had Chris not grabbed him.
“What the hell was that?” Laura asked.
“Jack,” Vince answered curtly as he shoved her ahead of him. “There isn’t going to be a trip back, Laura. I’m sure Martin did all he could, but I think we’re it. We’re the only ones who are going to make it out of here alive.”
Laura nodded sadly as they opened the door to the roof and came face to face with the barrel of a massive, cannon-like gun. Mitchell lowered it and grinned. “It’s about time someone made it up here.”
Daniel stood with him, waving at them with a trembling hand. Laura embraced him, happy to see their pilot alive.
Chris cradled Natalie in his arms and headed straight for the helicopter. “Come on! We’ve got to get out of here before the dead catch up with us!”
Vince met Mitchell with a knowing look. “You’re not going, are you?”
Mitchell shook his head. “There’s no place for someone like me left in this world.”
“I wonder if there’s a place left for any of us,” Vince agreed. He laid a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder for a moment, then darted to join the others.
Mitchell watched as the helicopter whirled to life and lifted off from the hospital’s roof, streaking away into the sky. He swiveled the machine gun on its tripod until it pointed toward the stairs, and he waited for the dead to come.
THE QUEEN
1
The air stunk of filth and human waste. The summer heat heightened the smell, but Scott had long grown accustomed to the stench. Sweat glistened on his sunburned chest and shoulders. He reached up, running his fingers through his short brown hair. They came away wet and covered in grime. He couldn’t remember for the life of him when he’d last been allowed to bathe. There was a large tub of water in the center of the pen where the prisoners were kept. Scott eyed it, not yet thirsty enough to expose himself to the germs and bacteria it contained.
Eleven other men shared the small pen with him. Most of them sat around, lost in their own thoughts like he was. Buck and Hank played cards with a tattered deck for which they’d been able to bribe the guards. Hank had traded a section of flesh from his left thigh in order to get it. The bandage he wore had yellowed, and Scott guessed that soon Hank would succumb to infection and die. He had seen a lot of men die over the three weeks he’d been trapped here. The guards didn’t seem to care, as long as they had one or two healthy males.
The women that had been taken alive were treated much better than the men. Scott had never been inside their actual quarters, but he knew it was inside the breeding center, out of the sun. It had plumbing and was kept clean and free of disease. Unlike the pig slop the men were fed, the women were given real food. It all made sense in a sick kind of way. The dead guards needed the women to make babies, more “cattle” for the pens, whereas they only needed one man to knock them all up.
Of all the men in the cage, only David stood at the fence, peering through it at the hills beyond the compound. He was a newcomer to the breeding center and still hoped that someone would rescue them. He dreamed of escape. It was a dangerous thing. Scott knew there was no way out other than death; it was just a question of how one died and ended up on the other side of the fence.
If someone perished in the pen while the guards weren’t around, Scott and the other prisoners made damn sure the corpse didn’t get back up, even if it meant bashing its head with a stone until they were covered in blood. The newly risen dead weren’t always as evolved as the guards, and they often went on a feeding frenzy. Stopping that from happening was worth the lashing. The men took turns so that no one was overly punished or outright put to death for the deed. It was Scott’s turn now, and he figured it wouldn’t be long before he was bashing open Hank’s skull.
The guards mostly stayed inside the compound proper. Whatever force had reanimated them had also greatly reduced their rate of decay, but hadn’t stopped it. Being outside in the heat of summer was unhealthy for them in the long run.
Scott watched as “Chief Hole in His Neck” peeked out of the compound door for the hourly check on the pen; the dead man had gotten his name because his throat was torn open and his rotting windpipe dangled out. He was one of the few guards who couldn’t speak, but he held a high rank among the dead and was easy to get along with if you stayed out of his way and didn’t cause trouble. The dead man’s gaze lingered only for a moment on David, who still stood at the fence, then the mute guard popped back inside, closing the door to the air-conditioned compound behind him.
Scott tiredly pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands on the pair of tattered black jeans he wore. David didn’t notice his approach.
“You’ve got to stop doing this,” Scott warned.
David jumped at the sound of his voice. His bloodshot eyes stared at Scott in shock. “Doing what?”
“Hoping,” Scott answered. “If you don’t, they’ll likely have you for dinner soon. It makes them nervous when one of us shows any bit of spirit left. Just be thankful you’re not one of them already and get over it.”
David started to respond, but Scott had already turned his back to the newcomer and was headed towards his spot, where he planned to sit and wait for the cool of the night.
2
The dead were getting closer. Riley ducked farther down in the brush, which grew on a hill above the gravel road. Two jeeps, flanked by a number of creatures on foot, crept their way up the mountainside. The whole scene was very troubling. Just how desperate were the dead getting for food if they were sending hunting parties this far out, and did it mean that all the cities had fallen at last?
The hunting party had stuck to the road so far, and Riley doubted they would stray into the woods, but his cabin was only a few miles north of the road. He counted eight of the things, including the drivers, all heavily armed. He couldn’t face a force of that size by himself, and even if he miraculously took them all out, more would come in search of their brethren, and likely in greater numbers. Then they would surely find his place.
Riley kept still and waited for them to pass by. When they were well out of earshot, he began to sneak back the way he’d come.
As he reached home and emerged from the trees, he saw little Brandon playing in the tall grass surrounding the cabin. The boy’s face lit up when he noticed his father. He dropped the stick with which he’d been hacking at the wild flowers and ran towards Riley with his tiny arms open. Despite his worries, Riley couldn’t help but smile as he swept Brandon up from the ground and clutched him tight to his chest.