This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope Page 25

  “Hey, stupid!” the tall man shouted. “Anything?”

  The short one raised his head, vacantly staring at the tall man. He shook his head with all the vigor of a half dead sloth before returning to his search.

  “I’m freezing my balls off out here!” the tall man shouted again as he climbed into the tow truck. “That pickup is for shit. We’re done here. Let’s go!”

  The short man dropped his arms to his side, dragging his feet as his legs plowed furrows through the snow. After a few minutes, he climbed into the passenger side of the truck, pushing the injured man out of the way and onto the shoulder of the tall man. He in turn shoved the injured one off of him before balling up his fist and driving it sideways into the short man’s chest.

  To Linda’s surprise, the man did not react at all. He simply stared out the window as if nothing happened. Seconds later, she heard the truck shift into gear. The engine revved, and the vehicle drove off.

  “That’s the third one in as many days,” Linda said once she knew it was safe to talk. “You know they’re not going to stop taking people.”

  “Linda, I get it. It really sucks, but there’s nothing we can do. Let’s check that truck out and see if we can get it road ready again.”

  For a few seconds, Linda stared down the road, watching as the darkness finally swallowed up the last faint remnants of the flashing yellow hazard lights. After mulling their options around in her mind, she reluctantly agreed with her husband. There was nothing they could do to help the man, or any of the others they had seen get taken.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” Eric said, unslinging his Daewoo K7 from around his back. “I want to help too, I just don’t know how. He could have come from anywhere, just like the others.”

  “You’re right,” Linda agreed, pulling her NVGs back on and gripping her UZI tight. “I just don’t have to like it.”

  The couple stood, scanning the woods and road for the walking dead before making their way over to the damaged truck. They walked slowly, eyeing the unmoving zombie corpses on the ground and keeping their ears sharp in case the men returned.

  “The chains tore up the back end, but it looks mostly cosmetic,” Eric said as he poked his head under the back of the pick-up. “Spare is still here. If the keys are in it, we might be on the road in an hour.”

  “If they’re not?” Linda asked playfully.

  “Hour and a half,” Eric chuckled.

  “Scoundrel,” Linda winked at him.

  “You married me.”

  “I do love the bad boys,” Linda smiled, turning toward the cabin. She heard her husband chuckle as he went to work on the tire.

  “No keys,” she called back as she sat behind the wheel. Eric grunted something she couldn’t make out. She leaned back in the seat, disappointed that she couldn’t warm up the truck while she waited for the tire change. A warm car would be a nice change after days of trudging through the snow.

  She put her arm on the center console, pulling out her canteen and drank deeply. Capping the container, she set it in the passenger seat, her hand brushing against a hard plastic latch on the armrest.

  “Guess you guys missed something,” she said, popping the latch and opening the compartment.

  She smiled as she lifted the mostly full box of ammunition from the armrest storage. She wasn’t sure if any of the weapons Eric carried could use that caliber, but soon ammo would be a precious commodity. If they couldn’t use the bullets themselves, trade was always a possibility if they ever found someone who was willing to bargain.

  Linda slid halfway out of her seat to tell Eric the good news when something else in the compartment caught her eye. Sitting flat against the bottom was a folded up piece of notebook paper.

  “Eric!” she shouted after a quick glance at the carefully scrawled list of roads and landmarks.

  “You okay?!” he spat as he came running through the snow toward her. “What’s wrong?!”

  “Guess what I found,” she said, unable to hold back her smile. Linda held the notebook paper up to her husband, allowing him a second to read it over.

  “Dammit,” he sighed with a smile. “Okay, we’ll go find out where that guy came from.”

  “And?”

  “You were right.”

  “That’s right,” Linda winked at Eric. “Now, go fix that tire.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Chapter 24

  Jason’s eyes snapped open as the cold water ran over his head and across his face. He spun his head, his eyes darting around as his mind tried to piece together where he was and what he was doing there.

  “What the fu–” Jason started.

  “Relax,” Murphy interrupted, smiling as he tossed the empty water bottle to the side. He took a seat directly across from Jason, leaning back in one of the plastic yellow chairs from the office. “You’re fine.”

  “That thing,” Jason said, shuddering as he mentally sorted things out. He was back in the main store area, sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls. They were on the opposite side of the entrance, out of sight of anyone or anything that might happen to wander by on the desolate road outside.

  “It’s dead,” Murphy said, pointing at the deep red stain on his right boot. “That was pretty messed up in there.”

  “Ah hell,” Jason sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Please tell me I didn’t faint.”

  “I wish. I would give you an eternal volume of shit for that. You were breathing too fast when you threw up. You inhaled some of it and choked.”

  “That was–” Jason trailed off. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the horrific memory from his mind.

  “Impossible?” Murphy finished the thought for him. “It just looks that way. They still need some basic muscles to function. As long as the brain doesn’t touch oxygen and the nerves are still attached to a muscle, it’ll keep moving.”

  “It couldn’t see,” Jason said. “How did it even know I was there?”

  “Probably enough tissue left behind the bone to smell or hear you,” Murphy replied, nodding to another yellow chair next to him. “I brought you something, if you’re tired of sitting on the floor.”

  “You pick that up from the people you were talking to on the HAM radio?” Jason asked as he rose to his feet, his legs feeling weak and shaky.

  “The chair?” Murphy smiled. “No, I got it from the office.”

  “No, smart-ass,” Jason replied, pulling the chair over to him and taking a seat. “Your wealth of zombie knowledge.”

  “Not really,” Murphy sighed, pulling a Budweiser bottle from a twelve pack at his feet, and handing it to Jason.

  “It’s actually cold,” Jason smiled. He popped the top and drank deeply, not coming up for air until the bottle was half empty. “I could cry!”

  “The coolers are still working,” Murphy said, finishing off his own beer. He set the empty bottle down at his feet next to the four others before he reached in and grabbed another. “I saw the solar panels out back when I cleaned up our mess.”

  “Shit man,” Jason gasped. “How long was I out?”

  “Fifteen minutes, give or take”

  “You drank all that in fifteen minutes?”

  “Nope,” Murphy said matter-of-factly. “I killed that thing in the bathroom, dragged the other two bodies outside, secured the front door, grabbed these chairs, and made sure I had plenty of ice cold water to douse you with…and then I drank all this,” he finished with a wave of his hand over the collection of empties. “And let’s not forget the four shots of Grey Goose I had before waking you up.”

  “Show off,” Jason chuckled, downing the rest of his bottle in two gulps.

  “Want another?”

  “Were the Marines founded in a bar?”

  “Oorah,” Murphy said with a slur as he handed Jason another bottle.

  “Murph,” Jason said after he popped the top off of his next beer. “Is everything alright, man? You’ve been a
cting a little off since we got here.”

  “You’re the one that fainted,” Murphy laughed, grabbing the bottle of Grey Goose vodka from beside him and taking a huge swig.

  “I didn’t faint,” Jason said, taking a more conservative drink. “I’m just so good my body kicked its own ass!”

  “Here’s to Gunnery Sergeant Jason Foster,” he said, raising his beer to the air. “The Marine who’s so mean he kicked his own ass!”

  “And here’s to–” Jason stopped, taking another drink. “What is your first name anyway?”

  “William,” he answered. “Just call me Bill.”

  “You know, we’ve been travelling together now for a few days, and I don’t know shit about you. Like, what was your MOS?”

  “I could tell ya, but I’d have to kill ya,” he laughed. “What about you?”

  “Twenty-eight sixty-two. I was attached to one-one,” Jason replied.

  “You were the Tech Chief for the First Battalion, First Marine? A few guys who moved up with me came from one-one. Good guys, better drinkers.”

  Jason opened his mouth to speak when he heard a whine off to his left. He looked over to a set of golden eyes reflecting the hallway light. They peered out from the shadows, narrowing as they scanned the front of the store. Moments later, Titan lowered his head and vanished completely into the darkness.

  Jason looked back at Murphy. The man’s smile had vanished, replaced by a face that could have been forged from cold steel. His body tensed like a tightly wound spring, his hand locked onto the grip of his M1911. Seconds later he relaxed, his eyes lingering in Titan’s direction for a few more seconds before he picked up his beer and finished it off.

  “You just come back?” Jason asked.

  “I don’t follow,” Murphy said. He still appeared as if he were ready to jump out of his skin at any moment.

  “From the sandbox. I’ve seen that look before. It’s more than the dead. You got the look of someone who just came home from theater.”

  “I’ve been out of the country, but not where you’re thinkin’”. Murphy took another deep pull of vodka as he settled back into his chair. He set the bottle on the floor and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if suddenly lost in thought.

  Jason nursed his beer as he kept a watchful eye on Murphy. The man had drunk far more than he should’ve in such a short period of time, and the effects were starting to show. He seemed calm, almost serene.

  “Stop staring and just ask.”

  Jason startled at Murphy’s slightly slurred words. “Ask what?” he stammered finally.

  “Don’t bullshit me,” Murphy said, lowering his head to look Jason square in the eye. “Your mind is going a mile a minute. I can almost see smoke comin’ out of your ears. You got questions and a lot of ‘em. So, just ask already.”

  “I’m still a little curious about the Jason Voorhees moment you had earlier.”

  “The what?”

  “You know,” Jason said, downing more of his brew before he continued. “Friday the 13th? The killer with the hockey mask? Made more sequels than any movie should be legally allowed.”

  “Sorry,” Murphy said, sounding distracted. “Not a fan of horror flicks. I prefer westerns.”

  “John Wayne fan, huh?”

  “Never dis the Duke.”

  “Roger that,” Jason said. “Anyway, you looked like you had something personal against that zombie. Did it owe you money or something?”

  “No,” Murphy said, ignoring Jason’s poor attempt at humor. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on the road. Mostly about my family. I saw those things, how young they were and how much life they had ahead of them. It reminded me of my kids.”

  “Why the anger then?”

  “Seeing those things made me envision my kids like those monsters.”

  “I’m sorry, Murph.”

  “I just hope someone laid them to rest, too. I can’t imagine my family walking around as those things.” Murphy picked up the vodka, taking a swig and laying the bottle on his lap. “That’s not all you’re wondering, is it?”

  “Honestly, no. But it can wait.”

  “Why?” Murphy asked. “You got something else better to do? Spill it.”

  “Well,” Jason started, taking another drink of liquid courage before speaking again. “I was wondering about Titan.”

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve seen drug and bomb canines work. But Titan is something else. I’ve never seen a dog trained like him or do what he does. He sniffs these monsters out like a trained drug sniffer, he kills like an attack dog, stalks like a hunter, and stands guard as well as any fire watch I’ve ever seen. He’s no regular dog you just happened to train at home.”

  “Very good,” Murphy said as he returned his gaze to the ceiling. “What else do you see?”

  “Well,” Jason started, trying to choose his next words carefully. “You know quite a bit about these zombies. You said it was from shortwave or HAM radio, but we were trying for weeks to raise someone on COMs with no luck, and it’s not like I don’t know a thing or two about radios.”

  “Go on,” Murphy replied, the hint of a smile cracking his lips.

  “There’s your gear too,” Jason continued as his thoughts began to flow freely. “You’re a Gunny, and as far as I know most of us at Pendleton still carry the M9 Beretta. Some of us have transitioned back to the M1911, but not many and that was only just recently. Yours though, it has a lot of holster wear on the finish. That sidearm has been with you for a long time.”

  “You’ve been paying attention,” Murphy smiled. “Marine Special Operations Command could have used someone like you.”

  “Screw that,” Jason said, taking a drink from his rapidly warming beer. “Not my thing, those guys are nuts.”

  “We’re not that bad,” Murphy said.

  “Bullshit.”

  “What’s bullshit?”

  “You’re MARSOC?”

  “Always faithful, always forward.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You asked.”

  “I didn’t ask for bullshit.”

  “And you didn’t get it,” Murphy replied, shooting Jason a sideways glance.

  “So you’re telling me that we just happened to be lucky enough to pick a house that happened to be across the street from where a special ops jockey lived?” Jason asked in a mocking tone.

  “It wasn’t my house.”

  “You told me–” Jason started.

  “I told you what I needed to,” Murphy snapped, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I knew who the hell you were or if I could even trust you! Shit, I had no intention of staying with you outside the wire, but I changed my mind when I got a clear grip on the situation.”

  “Which is what?” Jason demanded, his own frustration increasing.

  Murphy stared at Jason for a few seconds, the frustration on his face melted away into a look of total despair. “We’re fucked.”

  “I could’ve told you that,” Jason said sarcastically.

  “No. I mean really and truly fucked,” Murphy said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small satellite phone. “I knew it the second I tried to make contact and this sat phone was burned. Three days before I came to get you, this went dead. It was chaos before that. My contacts either disappeared, died, or both before I could get any clear direction.”

  “Okay,” Jason started. He leaned forward, setting his beer on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. “Back up. You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then, I guess my question would be who are you really?”

  “My name is really Bill Murphy.”

  “What’s your rank?

  “Does it matter?”

  “What do you do?”

  “Whatever I’m told.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Why not?”

  “Are you always this evasive?”
<
br />   “Comes with the job,” Murphy said, tipping his bottle of Grey Goose toward Jason.

  “Why even bother telling me anything if you’re just going to evade my questions,” Jason asked, accepting the vodka offering gladly. He tipped the bottle up, taking two gulps before handing it back to Murphy.

  “Years of practice,” Murphy smiled. “I’m still under orders not to reveal myself to anyone. I could be court-martialed for talking to you.”

  “Who the hell am I going to tell?” Jason asked.

  “No one,” Murphy’s smile evaporated, replaced with a deadly serious stare. “That’s my point. Hell, that’s why I’m even telling you any of this. As far as I know, I’m the only one that made it back. So there’s no one to tell.”

  “As far as you know?”

  “I won’t ever know for sure,” Murphy replied. “I know this much. Our comms were always manned. Always. An asteroid could reduce this planet to dust, and there would still be a voice on the other end if we happened to have someone alive to make the call. When this went dead, I knew we failed.”

  “What did you fail?” Jason asked.

  “Everything. Everyone. My family, your family. Everyone.” The bottle tipped up again, delivering several gulps of liquor to the already inebriated Marine. “We were too late.”

  Jason stared at him and waited, unsure if he even wanted to know what his new friend had been hiding since the day they met. A pit formed in his gut as a sense of unease washed over him. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.

  “No,” Murphy answered simply, setting the near empty vodka bottle to the side. He reached into another pocket, retrieving what appeared to be a silvery tin, not unlike the cigarette cases Jason remembered seeing in old black and white movies. “I can truthfully say you will not like this at all.”

  Jason started to speak when a low, rumbling growl erupted to his side. He whipped his head around, fully expecting to see Titan standing at alert with his teeth bared toward the front door. He didn’t expect to see the large dog creeping closer to them. Titan’s fur stood on end, his ears pinned back as his fur rippled with fury. His lips twitched, momentarily exposing gleaming white teeth.