Dying Days 3 (17 page)

In the bedroom, he opened the two large windows and smiled when the breeze whipped the edges of the covers on the bed.

"Why's it so hot?" Darlene mumbled, rolling over onto her stomach. John couldn't help staring at her great naked ass.

"The power went out. I opened the windows. Go back to sleep."

"Are you coming?"

"In a few minutes. I'm going to sit out and see if anyone else gets woken. Then I'll be back."

"Wake me up again and I'll gut you. Unless you do it by kissing my neck."

"Fair enough." John kissed her on the ass cheek and went through the dark living room, scooping up the machete again, and planting himself outside in a deck chair.

Chapter Thirty Two

He started at the furthest stilt house, quietly unlocking the gate and slipping up the steps. The front door was unlocked and he smiled. Frank imagined he'd find most doors unlocked, the false sense of security these arrogant living thought they had. They didn't anymore.

Inside was chaos. A war had taken place some time ago, and there were bodies scattered in every room. By the advanced rot of some of them, he surmised zombies had broken in and killed the occupants. There were bullet holes in foreheads on several bodies. They'd never even been cleaned up. Just left here to rot. Lazy.

Frank went to the next house and climbed the stairs, feeling the presence of someone inside. The front door was locked but he managed to slowly force it without making too much noise. This home was clean and comfortable, and looked well-lived in. Frank moved quietly through the rooms, glancing at the furniture and paintings on the walls. Someone of wealth had lived here in another lifetime, but he was sure it wasn't the current occupant, who snored peacefully in a large bed, completely unaware she would be taking her last breathe in but a moment.

It was almost a shame to kill this innocent person as she dreamed of better days and a different life, where zombies didn't roam the earth and try to kill you.

Frank smiled. "Ah, but alas, I do want to eat you," he whispered close to the woman's face. He picked up a pillow from the other side of the bed and put it over the woman's face. He didn't want to go through the motions of biting her or breaking her neck. She would scream and alert anyone else in the area.

Besides, killing her this way was more humane. Frank laughed at his little joke as the woman began to struggle underneath the pillow, but she was no match for his superior strength. He applied more pressure until she stopped kicking and released her bowels.

Satisfied she wasn't faking it, he counted to ten before removing the pillow. He stared down at her astonished look. She was gone, and she wouldn't return a zombie.

She would make a fine meal before he moved on to the next stilt house.

Frank hoped, at some point, someone would offer a fight, because at this rate he'd be done before the sun rose.

Chapter Thirty Three

Eric couldn't sleep. He sat on the chair on the deck of Murph's stilt house in darkness. The tears on his face were drying in the cool breeze. He'd watched as John had come down and gone into the garage, but he didn't make his presence known. He was curious what John was doing, and figured a fuse had blown.

John went back inside but came out a few minutes later and sat down in a chair directly across from Eric. If Eric moved, even in shadows, he'd be seen. He didn't want to talk about Abby or the thoughts going through his head.

Fuck me, I'm sad
, he thought.
But I need to deal with this on my own. I need to get over it like I did Jessa
. Eric almost laughed out loud at his stupidity. He wasn't over her, even though he'd only known Jessa for a few hours, if that. They'd had a connection. The once in a lifetime love you only saw in romantic comedy movies or in fairy tales. But, it was true. They'd fallen in love and shared something so special Eric knew he'd never find it again. He thought Abby would have been damn close, and, maybe with time, she could have been the one to fill the hole in his heart.

But she was gone, and with her death, Eric didn't feel like living anymore. He wasn't going to kill himself or anything stupid. He believed in God and the sin of suicide, and he knew his Maker would show him the way and when it was time for him to step off this dying earth and ascend to the Pearly Gates. He understood all that, but it didn't make him less sad. It only made him want to be reckless and hunt zombies and go out in a blaze of glory, if that's what it took to see Jessa and Abby again.

He was about to go back inside and get his bow when he realized he was staying at Murph's and only had his machete, plus John was so close he could probably hit him with a rock. He wanted to burn off some of this energy and clear the area of zombies, and make them pay for what they'd done and kept doing. But any sudden move would alert John and he'd have to talk about Abby, and right now he didn't want to. He didn't want pity from his friend. He wanted… he didn't really know what he wanted when he thought long and hard on it. There was only this gnawing pit in his stomach.

John got up and went back inside Darlene's house.

Eric smiled for his friends. They'd finally taken the plunge and stopped the bullshit. He hoped they would last, and he hoped they'd find happiness in this fucked up world. Eric wished only the best for those two.

Now that John was back inside, Eric decided to get his machete and wander onto the beach and blow off the building steam. He knew it made no sense and was completely stupid and he was putting himself in reckless danger, but he didn't have a choice tonight. He wanted to push the envelope and see how close to the edge he could get.

Chapter Thirty Four

Four stilt houses left, and Frank had also broken the necks of thirteen zombies wandering around. He considered it a bonus. So far, so good: no one had so much as opened an eye when he'd attacked, and there were bodies in beds behind him.

However, he sensed two guards ahead. The next stilt house was empty but then he knew there were four humans left to contend with, and he was sure three of them were the ones he'd encountered in Flagler Beach.

With two of them wide awake and sitting vigil on these houses, he'd never be able to sneak up on them. Every other person had been killed with relative ease.

Frank decided to retreat back to the gas station, collect his gasoline, and have some fun. They wouldn't only have to contend with him, they'd have to fight a raging fire as well. He smiled at his chaotic brilliance.

On A1A, there were twenty or thirty zombies, clustered, all moving up the road. He stopped and tried to listen. Were they being called, or was it really random? He couldn't remember being one of them, and wished he'd been able to tune in and see if they were truly being driven to some destination or if they could be turned around and would go another way. With time on his hands and curiosity getting the better of him, Frank angled his approach to get just in front of them.

He stepped in the road right in front of one and had the incredible urge to wrap his arms around a neck and listen to the brittle bones and cartilage snapping, but he refrained.

Just as the zombie walked past, Frank grabbed it by the shoulders and spun it around, but it didn't work like he'd planned and the zombie fell to the ground. When it finally righted itself, he was still heading north. The others had gone about twenty feet away.

Frank went to the group and grabbed one in a bear hug, spinning and planting it feet-first on the pavement. The zombie took three steps, before veering to the left and, eventually, turning in a wide arc, and heading back north.

"Fascinating." Frank was giddy now. He managed to get five of them moving in the wrong direction but they all looped back around. What was even more remarkable was the fact they all went to their left and made the turn. Was it collective group intelligence at work? Surely, it wasn't coincidence.

Once he'd destroyed the stilt houses, he could devote more time to this new development. He envisioned several experiments he could do, and maybe eventually one or two would be able to speak and he could question them. Now he was sad he'd killed the zombie woman in the high school, because he could have questioned her further. And he had all the data started. Oh, well. He had all the time in the world now.

He grabbed four gas cans and carried them to the first stilt house back up the road, the one furthest from the survivors. He doused the wooden foundation and pylons with two cans before moving over to the next one.

Then it was back to the gas station, where he'd left the hose open to spill and the far parking lot was flooding with gas and soaking into the grass. His final move would be to make a trail from the gas pumps to the stilt houses and light it. But he had a lot of gas to move and pour, and now he wondered if he'd get the fuel in place before daybreak. Not to mention the smell, which would alert the living soon enough if he didn't hurry.

He filled the four empty cans and picked up the other four he had filled already. A better system to transport them wasn't an option, since he couldn't put them in the back of a pickup and casually drive them over. He needed to walk, and it was a good distance.

Maybe not all the houses needed to be burned, but he was going to try to get them ablaze if he could.

Frank picked up his pace as he, awkwardly, carried the cans back to the houses. He dumped them, using only one can at the base of each home before heading back. The stilt houses looked nice and luxurious, but wooden structures would go up like kindling.

"I need a light," he suddenly realized. He fished through the closest vehicle, digging through the glove compartment and finding a tattered orange cigarette lighter. Frank pocketed it after making sure it still worked.

He would be using it soon enough.

Chapter Thirty Five

Two zombies came at Eric. He tried to keep them in sight but they were getting lost in the darkness and he felt stupid for being out here. What was he doing? This was a death wish. He had the grim thought of being bitten and then turning into a monster and having John or Darlene shoot him in the head. What a shitty way to go out.