Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row (17 page)

“Scotty?”

“Scotty, Roy’s son. You met him. Well, met the reanimated body that was him…”

David’s eye darted around the room, his agitation blowing up like a balloon about to reach the popping point. The conversation was becoming cryptic. And he was losing focus. Fast. “Get to it, Gabe. What does he have to do with me or Natalee?”

Gabriel sighed like a father disappointed that his child wasn’t figuring out the solution to a simple math problem. “The world ain’t just sick, Dave. It’s dying a slow and painful death. We talked about it before, you and me. There are folks who get it, and folks who don’t.” He wagged a finger at David. “You claimed you got it, or led me to believe as much. But me and Lenny, we seen the demons, Dave. You yourself even admitted to ‘em earlier today.”

“Fine. I’ve got demons. So what’s your point?”

“The point is, Dave, that deep down, I believe you’re an Infirmary.”

“What? How can you say that? Especially after I shot—”

“I think you can be swayed to their way of thinking. Of believing a dangerous lie.”

David just stared at Gabriel, his brow dropping low. He thought the conversation would revolve around answering a few questions about Natalee, then maybe a couple of others, then figuring out what the hell they were going to do once they slipped out. Done and done. Up next, an Alcatraz moment, a mysterious midnight escape from the Alamo.

Shaking his head, feigning a smile, David said, “Gabe, I’m not one of them. Luz—an
Infirmary
—pointed a fucking gun at me, for Chrissakes. Locked me in the same room as
you
. Remember that part? I hardly think they’d welcome me into the fold.”

“When did Natalee die?”

David straightened, the corners of his mouth diving. His breathing shallowed. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Gabriel?”

“I ain’t accusing you of anything. I asked a simple question.” His cadence slowed. “When did your wife…
die
?”

The Janitor started to blur, along with the rest of the room, and David swiped at his eye, which only made it worse. He wanted to desperately hold back the flood, to be strong, to be a
man
. But it was pointless. Those damned tears were back for an encore performance, and they brought the whole band on stage with them. He let his head drop, ran his hand under his broken nose while the tears reopened his broken heart.

“When, Dave? It’s a simple question.”

The thought of her, of his wife… Natalee…
dying
… just destroyed him. The whole idea, the whole
concept
of ‘dying,’ then becoming an undead monster… He didn’t want to associate his wife with that line of thinking. With that word. Preferred to just let the thought of it—and her—die. She didn’t deserve this. Not in life, not in death, and not in the shit that fell in between it all.

David choked out, “Semantics, Gabe. Sounds like we’re just playing a goddamned game of semantics.”

“It’s a serious question, Dave. One you ain’t answered yet.”

David pressed to his feet in a rush, practically ripped the bandage from his head as he tried to rake shaky fingers through his hair. He almost fell back to the cot. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know.”

“How can you not know, Dave?”

“Because… Gabe. I… I didn’t get to her in time. Okay? I didn’t make it. He had a gun to her head—”

“Who? Who had a gun to her head?”

David sighed deeply, slapped his thigh. “Doc. He had a gun to her head. She was tied to a chair. Sammy and Guillermo… they left her and Doc…” He swiped at his cheek, wincing when his fingernail snagged one of the damp stitches. “Doc must have—” He fought back a sob, then he turned, faced the door. “So I guess… a few days ago. Okay? Can we go now?”

The Janitor’s lip twisted under his mustache. “No, Dave. We can’t.”

The pond was perhaps a hundred yards into the woods from the edge of the field, a short jaunt relatively speaking, and at the end of a fairly straight path. There were only about three turns, if they could be called turns. They more resembled slight twists. Thankfully, the way was mostly clear of rocks and sticks or other detritus. Recent and fairly constant traffic on the trail had helped keep the grass and weeds mostly at bay, allowing for unobstructed passage. Occasionally, the underbrush grabbed at Jessica’s ankles and shins, though she was never in any real danger of diving chin-first into the dirt. The mosquitos that buzzed her face like little high-pitched Kamikaze warplanes proved more annoying and distracting than the groping foliage.
 

As the sobbing became more prevalent, so did the awful smell. She considered slowing down, actually dragged her toe, kicking up a cloud of dust. But she couldn’t halt herself, Nike-clad feet on autopilot, seemingly just as curious—and concerned—as she was.

She started around the pond.

A child?

That’s what the whimpering resembled. A young child. Or perhaps a young woman. Was hard to tell. Whoever it was, they were being hushed by another.

Two people?

Now Jessica stopped. She’d made it halfway around the water. A two-foot wide trail circled the stock pond, bumped up right against it. Thick bushes encroached on the path, reaching into the trail and toward the water. Beyond the near-impenetrable bushes, dense woods. Viewed from the air, Jess imagined the pond would look like a single eyeball in the forest’s green face.

She slapped her own face, sending another buzzing, biting warplane to its bloody death. After a quick glimpse at the carnage on her palm, she wiped it on her jeans. She craned her neck, eyes prying in the direction of the sound.

More shushing. Weak whimpering. The smell of death.

She dreaded what she’d find, especially given the current state of unrest and dissension overtaking the Alamo, wondered if perhaps someone had taken to killing the dead in a location the Infirmaries couldn’t find them as easily. Or quickly.

Her mind then raced to thoughts of a stalking madman.

Doc.

She could still hear his heavy drawl in her ears, proclaiming David and Mitch dead. He’d lied about one, spoke the truth about the other. She hoped it’d stay that way.

Still looking across the peaceful pond, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever that was. Dragonflies hovered and skittered above the water, cutting minuscule ripples, tempting the fish with a colorful and tasty snack. The usual sounds of the woods were in full swing, and she even heard an owl despite darkness still being a few hours away.

She willed her feet to move again, her eyes darting, ears ultra-sensitive. As she neared the tip of the water, she noticed two narrow strips of trampled grass.

Like a car drove down here. Recently.
 

She realized then that she was actually looking at a road, one that never got to see much use thanks to the end of the world. The grass was well on its way to obscuring what was left of it. Soon, probably within a few weeks, it’d be hard to tell a road was ever there, the weeds having erased it completely. If the rain ever came again, of course. Then, only a trained eye, or overly observant one, would be able to see the shallow ruts. She guessed the eroding, vanishing road had been used by vehicles to stock the waterhole. No other reason she could think of for its existence. Had the world not ended when it did, the Alamo would have been one hell of a retirement spot.

But fresh tire tracks in the grass concerned her. Was this where Doc had parked and—

Shifting the pistol from hand to hand, she wiped her palms on her jeans, pressing the blood from smashed mosquitos deeper into the denim. Then she said a small prayer. She really didn’t want to use the Sig, didn’t want to kill anyone dead, or alive.

She was just starting toward the source of the sound when the sad souls revealed themselves in non-dramatic fashion. No bogeyman, no shuffler… no
Doc.
They pressed slowly to their feet, eyes glassy, and locked on Jessica.

Thank the fucking lord above.

“Bryan? Taneesha? What… why are you two out here?”

“Jessica,” said Taneesha. “Thank God it’s you, girl.”

Jessica’s head swiveled. She expected something more, someone else. An ambush, an attack. Something. The run-in with Sammy and Gills—not to mention Doc’s antics—left her overly paranoid. And she couldn’t help it.
 

“Is anyone else out here with you two?”

Taneesha shook her head vehemently, and she laid a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. Bryan had Charlie, his puppy, cradled tight against his chest.

Jess, lowering her voice, asked, “What happened?”

Taneesha looked around, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to explain. “We was inside. I was doing my assigned duty—watching the children. Bryan, Samantha, Kenny, and Julie. They was all there.” She paused, a hand going to her mouth, as though recalling a horrific event.

Jess moved toward them, replacing the gun to her waistband.

“Lenny came in the room we was staying in, said things was getting bad between the Infirmaries and Muertos. Said—”

Jess interrupted her.
 
“Muertos?”

Taneesha nodded quick, tight nods. “Yeah. They the ones that thinks them…”—she waved a hand through the air—“things locked up in the tennis courts and the pool is…” Her eyes darted down to Bryan. Trying to spare him the truth, she finished by mouthing the word ‘
dead.
’
 

Jess gave a slow, understanding nod. “So which one are you?”

“Me?” Taneesha asked, her other hand to her chest. “Ain’t gonna lie. I was on the fence, leaning to the Infirmaries’ side. I just couldn’t believe… didn’t
wanna
believe them folks was, well, you know. I mean, how can folks still be walking around if they’s just…? I’m still having a hard time with it. Me and Lenny, we gone round and round ‘bout it. Some days, he wins. Some days, I win.”

“And today?”

Taneesha sighed, her eyes glassy. Then, she dipped her chin toward the source of the smell.

“Jesus,” Jess managed, her fingers pinching her nose. Somehow, actually seeing the body accentuated the stench ten-fold.

“Anyway, Lenny made us leave the Alamo. I’s supposed to take all the children, but they parents wouldn’t let me take ‘em.” She blinked, trying to clear tears. “Jess, we need to leave this place. Them people… Dr. G? She ain’t right. Something’s done snapped in that girl. Them Infirmaries? Hearing ‘em talk, I think they’d just as quick kill the real living to save them folks they think’s just sick.” She visibly trembled, and it seemed to transfer to Bryan’s shoulder and into the boy himself.

A scary feeling surged in Jess, and she wondered if she hadn’t condemned her cousin to death by asking Luz to lock him up in a room somewhere in the Alamo.

“Is the Janitor kosher? Is he on the up-and-up? Can we trust him?” Her cadence sped up, fear lighting her eyes and tone.

“Lenny says the Janitor’s as kosher as they come. The real deal. He knows what’s up. But Lenny says he’s scared for him. Thinks that if Dr. G. gets enough folks thinking like her…”

“I’m scared they’re already there. That meeting this morning…”

“I was in there. I know.”

“What swayed you, Taneesha? To the… Muertos… side?”

Taneesha pinched her lips together until they looked like a fresh thin scar on her face. Finally, she said, “Ain’t gonna lie. My brother. I trust him with my life. He and the Janitor, they’s tight. He trusts the old geezer. Loves that man.” She swiped at her eye, patted Bryan’s shoulder. “The Janitor, God love him, was at the old building with our pop. Took good care of him. Made him comfortable his last days. I just thank the lord that pop didn’t have to see all this.”

Jess nodded, then touched Taneesha’s arm.

Continuing, Taneesha said, “My mind says people who ain’t alive shouldn’t be walking around. But Lenny says they is, and they do.” She sighed heavily, squeezing Bryan’s shoulders. “I don’t wanna believe it, ‘cuz believing it means…”

Jess simply shook her head, eyes diving to the dirt. She knew what Taneesha was getting at. Accepting that the dead now walked meant a myriad of childhood horrors were now reality. And she felt sorry—no, terrified—for any child that would have to grow up in the world as it now existed. If that child got to grow up at all…

This discussion, the subject… Jess was losing focus. Losing hope. And if she didn’t take a breath, she’d lose consciousness. “What now?”

“Lenny told me to take the children, hide by the waterhole ’til him and Randy come for us.”

Crouching, Jess looked at Bryan. “You okay, Bryan?”

He nodded, shifting Charlie in his arms. She could see the dirt trails on his cheeks where tears once ran.

Taneesha eyed Bryan from above. “He says he feels really bad about that box he gave to that man. Says he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t know Doc was a bad man.”

Now fully kneeling in front of Bryan, Jess said, “Oh, sweetie. Please don’t feel bad, okay? You had know way of knowing Doc wasn’t a nice man. There was no way you could’ve known that.”

Bryan smiled a weak smile, sniffled, then nodded. He rubbed his cheek against his puppy’s head. Charlie squirmed in his arms.

Motioning toward the downed body in the bushes, Jess asked, “Did you have to… you know…?”

Taneesha responded almost exactly as Bryan had, with the exception of rubbing her cheek on Charlie’s head. “We was hiding in the bushes, like Lenny done told us to. Only’d been in there maybe a minute or two, when he wandered up. Was behind a tree and didn’t see him. Smelt him, but didn’t see him. I knifed him good. Thank the lord Lenny made me take that knife. I wasn’t gonna…” She took a deep breath. “Told the boy to turn his head, so he didn’t have to see, but he saw anyway. Asked me after if I was making the man better.”

“Making the man… better?”

“Yeah. Says… David right…?” She looked to Bryan for confirmation. He nodded. “Right. David says when he stabs ‘em, he’s making ‘em better. Says David made his sick Grampa better.”

“Oh.”

This concerned Jessica. Deeply concerned her. She believed it was important to be upfront with Bryan, so that he understood the dangers. The reality of the situation, of
life and death.
Ignorance was simply a shroud of faux safety that provided no protection, serving only to hinder chances of survival. Chances at
life
. Ignorance was most definitely
not
bliss. If the boy thought shufflers were just ‘sick,’ that someone could make them ‘better’ with the stick of a knife… well, he was on the path to even more confused thinking, maybe even more off track than the Infirmaries. And that was dangerous thinking. Very dangerous. What if someone alive was just truly sick with the flu? Would Bryan think it was okay to just stab them? She made a mental note to have a crucial conversation with David regarding his views and teachings when it came to Bryan. She’d talk to the boy if need be. And she’d be glad to do it.