Beyond Dead | Book 3 | On The Road Read online

  A moment passed and then another and the inmates were getting restless again. Tuck ignored them. His shoulder against the door and his head leaning against the glass. Then came a noise. Something shuffling on the other side of the door.

  “Tuck?” A muffled voice asked.

  “Yes, sir. It’s me.”

  “What – what do you want, Tuck?”

  “What do you think, sir? I want to get the fuck out of here. Same as you.”

  “No one is getting out of here,” Warden Clinton said.

  “You’re going to let us the fuck out of here you motherfucking piece of rat cunt juice!” An inmate hollered.

  Tuck moved so fast that no one had time to react. He had a shiv in his hand that no one was aware of and he drove it into the meat of the convict’s neck slicing his way across the aorta and opening the man’s throat. A wall of blood fell on him and turned his orange jumpsuit a dark brown. He pushed the man away and returned to the door.

  Poor Chucky, Tuck thought while he knocked on the window again of the fogged glass. He had like Chucky. Oh well.

  “Warden Clinton, you still there, sir?” Tuck asked. He knew he was still there. Of course he was there because there was no place for him, or them, to go. This was one hell of a Mexican standoff, but he wasn’t sure if Warden Clinton had run from the glass and hid behind his desk or that small closet in his office.

  “What happened, Tuck?”

  “Chucky Bates was out of line so I had to put him down.”

  “Why would you do that? You and Chucky run on the same crew. You’re friends aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s a fact. But this is the end of the world. As I see it, my sentence may have been to die behind these bars, but circumstances being what they are, I’m thinking its time to move on.”

  “You know I can’t let you out of here, Tuck.”

  “Yes I understand that, sir, and if the world was the way it was I would agree with you. But the world has gone away, sir. It’s dead. You can see that as much as I can. This is it. The end of the world. Death of biblical proportion.

  “So, I am going to assume you don’t want to die here either, sir. The only way you can get out of here is if you walk out with me. I’ll walk you to that shiny Audi of yours and let you be on your way. No harm done to you at all. You have my word.

  “If you don’t take my offer, sir, I can’t promise what these men will do. They are getting restless and even I am not sure how long I can keep them all in line. Do you understand what I am saying, sir?”

  Warden Warren Clinton knew exactly what Tuck was saying. Tuck was one of the enforcers in the prison. He had worked for a man Marcus Salt head of a Florida MC, here in New Hampshire on felony assault. Salt had recruited Tuck almost instantly after an alleged attempted rape went south. Four guys had ended up with broken bones protruding from their skin and Jury South – pedophile, rapist, molester of young boys – had ended up pegged on a shower faucet that had been ripped off and he had been driven into the rusty broken sprocket where he hung as his left lung filled with blood. It was rumored that Tuck walked out of that shower whistling a Johnny Cash tune about Folsom Prison with nothing but a towel on and leaving bloody footprints in his wake.

  “You said I have your word, Tuck?”

  “Yes, sir. I have no reason to want to do any harm to you. You’ve always been straight with me and we don’t have to be enemies. We never have been. You could have pressed me on that South issue but you didn’t. You knew as I did that we were all better off with Jury South out of our castle.”

  “Tell your boys to step away,” Warden Clinton told Tuck.

  With a motion of his head the inmates backed away down the hallway. They knew they didn’t need to shadow Tuck. He could take care of himself.

  “You’ll be my hostage until I get to my car. Do you understand, Tuck?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s fine with me. Whatever makes you comfortable and gets us out of this hell.”

  Next came the sound of the door unlocking. Tuck stepped back and looked into the pudgy face of Warden Warren Clinton and his bad comb-over and thick mustache. He held a .45 in his right hand and motioned for Tuck to turn around and be a cooperative hostage.

  “You help me get out of here, Tuck, and we don’t have any problem.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Warden Clinton walked Tuck through the prison. He handed Tuck the keys to the doors allowing them to get past security. Through doors and around other prisoners they emerged at the front gate. Pushing the door open, the convicts and warden, stepped into the final cage that was in the outside world.

  Tuck’s boots scratched lines along the dead soil that looked more like Texas sand than New Hampshire. He walked with the warden to the final gate and the Warden gestured for him to stand to the side.

  “Thought we were doing this together, Warden?” Tuck said.

  “I’ll go first,” he told Tuck.

  “And risk leaving us trapped here?”

  The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Tuck watched as the warden’s hand that held the keys was shaking but the one holding the gun, that hand which was trained to use the weapon, was steady even though sweat was dripping from his brow.

  “Sir, you want to take this to the end? There are no more sentries.” Tuck motioned to the turrets that were empty, “If you don’t walk with me we can just as easily scale the fence now and get out. It’s better if we part on amicable terms.”

  The warden seemed to consider this for a second, his eyes looked up at the fence and the Concertina wire and then his eyes shot open wide filled with surprise. Tuck had breached the small gap between them and driven his shiv through the warden’s ribcage and into his heart. He held the hand with the gun, the space of his hand between the thumb and pointer finger blocking the hammer from firing on the .45 as the warden pulled the trigger uselessly.

  “Should have kept to our deal, Warden.” The gun fell away into Tuck’s hand as the warden fell lifelessly to the ground only a foot away from the exit of the prison.

  “Yeah!”

  “Fuck yes!”

  “Tuck, you the man!”

  “You did it!”

  “Jesus Christ, you see that! That’s some fucking Houdini shit!”

  Tuck leaned down and pulled the keys from the warden’s dead grasp. Outside the prison fences he could see some of the revived dead wandering around. He took the key to the gate and unlocked it and opened it wide standing in front of his freedom for the first time in seven years. He closed his eyes and let the sun touch his face. To anyone else they would not understand that the sun feels different behind that fence, even with the door open. Stepping across that threshold to the free world – the one that was but went away – meant feeling again. Meant being human again. Even among the dead. Tuck wouldn’t have to go on like some cold stone killer for hire.

  “Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Martinez clasped Tuck’s shoulder jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning in front of a loaded Christmas tree.

  BANG!

  Martinez eyes grew even wider than his excitement as the bullet tore through his heart and his body fell away from Tuck. The other three convicts were staring at Tuck.

  “What the fuck, Tuck?”

  Tuck leveled the gun and pulled the trigger three more times. All of his shots were true and struck the inmates. One in the heart, two in the head. The bodies dropped in front of him.

  “Sorry, boys,” Tuck said and tossed the gun onto the sandy exit path, “There’s enough bad out there without adding you to it.”

  Tuck closed the gate and snapped the key off in the lock. He was sure that the other inmates wouldn’t have much trouble escaping the prison now that there were no guards, but he could walk away knowing he did what he could to prevent any more from leaving. With the warden’s keys in his hand, Tuck walked over to the luxury Audi and got inside. Country music began to blare on the radio and – disgusted – he turned the station and found
Nirvana. Tuck slammed the stick into first and pushed down on the pedal tearing through the gears as the car maneuvered around the dead. He touched pavement and was on the road to wherever he wanted.

  Chapter 5

  Bob lifted a picnic table and flipped it end over end so that it was blocking the direction they had just come. Any minute now the zombies would break through the front door and be heading after them. The picnic table would do. for now. as an obstacle to keep them from getting munched but it wouldn’t hold forever. As he and Kiefer ran for the wooden fence in front of them, Bob could only think of how much he really just wanted a drink and couldn’t believe he was going through all this shit. It would have been so much easier to go out like Maddie. To even lie down next to her and say good-fucking-bye to the world. He could have found pills in a dead and abandoned city and said his good byes. For all he knew his daughter was dead and what was he really running from if he wasn’t running to her?

  “Come on, Bobby. What are you waiting for?” Kiefer had toppled over some garbage cans and made a good platform for them to get over the fence. Bob was standing between the picnic table and the fence. He stood, just watching.

  “Bob!”

  “Dammit,” he said and started running toward Kiefer. He leapt onto the platform and took Kiefer’s hand. He was pulled over the fence just as the zombies crashed through the picnic table and charged the fence making it shake in its foundation. “They’re gonna get through.”

  “Let’s go!”

  Kiefer and Bob ran through backyards and around children’s swing-sets and sandboxes shaped like plastic crabs and tugboats. In one backyard, a John Deere riding lawn mower was on fire and burning a thick plume of dark black smoke up into the air, though no one was around.

  “Someone should have gotten a Cub Cadet,” Bob laughed.

  “Oh shit, move,” Kiefer yelled as he came around the bend of a house and almost walked straight into a cluster of zombies. Bob turned and ran. The two pushed through people’s laundry hanging from clotheslines, leapt over discarded bicycles and then Bob grabbed Kiefer.

  “There.” Bob pointed to a large pickup.

  Kiefer ran over and threw open the door, he scrambled inside the pickup while Bob ran to the front door and without bothering to even check if the door was locked, kicked in the door and went inside. It was Bob who emerged victorious a few seconds later, with the keys in hand, just as the horde of zombies began to stagger toward them.

  Bob pushed Kiefer out of his way, turned the engine over and the Hemi came to life. He pulled the gear shift into REVERSE and screeched out of the driveway and slammed it back down into DRIVE. Bob sat revving the engine and watching the zombie horde cluster into a larger pack until the street disappeared under their dead feet.

  “You doing what I think you are doing?’

  “Oh yeah,” Bob smirked.

  “Do it,” Kiefer smiled.

  Bob pushed the switch down beside the steering wheel and with a heavy clunk the plow dropped to the street. Bob pushed his foot down on the gas and his other on the brake while the back tires burned rubber. He lifted his foot and the Hemi Ram darted forward. Bob and Kiefer cheered as the plow struck the zombies and mowed them down. They easily made a bloody mess of things as they pushed through the street until they were free. They were both still laughing when they rolled up to a stop sign.

  “I haven’t had that much fun since I was your age,” Bob told Kiefer.

  “Oh god, Bobby, I think I might have pissed my pants,” Kiefer said as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “You still got your pussy?”

  “I don’t know how I held on to that thing, but Clover’s in the backseat. Cat has a hell of a lot more lives than nine.”

  “Probably outlive the rest of the world,” Kiefer joked.

  “Yeah,” Bob said, but his smile had faded. He thought of his daughter.

  “We should head north,” Kiefer offered his suggestion.

  Bob looked up the street that would take them to I93 North. Ok, they could go north but what then?

  As if Kiefer had read his mind he said, “There’s a National Guard station in Concord. Aviation. Maybe they can fly us out on one of those fancy Blackhawks you’re always seeing in the movies.”

  “North?” Bob questioned.

  “Yeah. North. Plus the further north we go, the more remote things get. Hell we could go all the way to Canada and get lost from the world and the damn zombies.”

  Bob grunted and hit his blinker and turned down the road that would lead to the highway. All the while he was thinking of how he could get to his daughter. “Can you check the compartment for a phone charger?”

  Kiefer started rummaging through the glove compartment until he found a charger and presented it to Bob like a Christmas gift. Bob handed over his phone and had Kiefer charge it. His phone had been dead for a few days and gone through the Merrimack River but he was delighted to see the green bar light up even though it only said 1%. That was ok. Some percent was better than none.

  “Expecting a call from the president?” Kiefer asked.

  “More important.” Bob’s eyes were glued to the road and neither said anything more until they reached the highway.

  Chapter 6

  “Rebel?” Forrest’s voice was laced with sleep and a hangover as he called down the stairs to her.

  “I’m here,” she responded and took the hunting knife that she had found and put its blade stained with her blood into the sheath at the base of her back and tugged her tee-shirt over it. She went to the foot of the stairs and watched Forrest descending to her. “Glad you’re up. We have to get moving before it gets dark. Get your shit together.” She sounded harsher than she meant to, but before she could apologize Rebel squeezed the cuts on her thighs and let the pain surge through her body. Suddenly she didn’t really care what Forrest thought or felt. It was time to move and get out of this dead town, not time to coddle a hurt little boy.

  “I’ll grab my bag,” he told her.

  “Good.”

  Rebel went to the front door. The dirt bike was leaning against the stairs of the wrap-around-deck. Zombies roamed the streets but they weren’t moving in their direction. She thought that even when they started the bike it wouldn’t be too difficult to get around them and back to the trail.

  Rebel was holding the map when Forrest came downstairs. She had marked out where they were and what roads would take them back to the trails.

  “I’m ready. Let’s go.” Forrest pushed open the door and walked out to the dirt bike securing his backpack over the handle bars. He threw his leg over and started the bike. Rebel hurried behind him – actually believing for a moment he might leave her behind – and took the bitch-seat. As soon as she was on, Forrest throttled the bike and turned it toward the road. “Where?” he demanded more than asked.

  A shocked Rebel told him, “Take a right out of here and follow Oak Street all the way down to Fenway Street. When we get to the end of Fenway, go left then take the first right. We’ll have to ride about three miles before you see the power lines and then -”

  Forrest cut her off, “I’ll go north. Got it.” He revved the engine again and took off down Oak Street. The loud engine of the dirt bike was starting to get the zombies attention but they were few and easy to avoid.

  Rebel found herself with an arm wrapped around Forrest while she pressed the palm of her hand into the cuts beneath her denim shorts and let the wind pull away her tears.

  Chapter 7

  Tuck played with the Audi’s navigational system while he was driving. He tried to make a phone call to an area code in the Warden’s contact list to see if the phones still worked – they didn’t. The satellite system wasn’t working well either it would come in and out but Tuck couldn’t understand why some object flying in space couldn’t keep a signal. Ever since the world went away and the zombies came to life and the country was struck down by a foreign military, it was hard to not believe even the most mundane things.

&nb
sp; The roads were mostly empty, but every now and then he would come up on a cluster of cars involved in some kind of accident and would have to go off the road with the sporty Audi. So far he had gotten lucky and the car hadn’t gotten stuck in the earth or had a tire blow or something.

  He was just maneuvering around the latest accident, trying to stay as close to the fire truck that was on the side of the road so he didn’t slide down into the woods below, when – only God knows how – he heard screaming. Coming at him, from around the fire truck, was a cluster of zombies. Tuck was looking around trying to see where the screaming was coming from but couldn’t see anything. The zombies were coming at him. He started to roll the car a bit slower, only around ten miles per hour. He needed to move the zombies out of his way but couldn’t ram them with the Audi and risk breaking the radiator.

  The zombies came at Tuck with their clattering teeth. They fell onto the hood and pressed against the windows until he could barely see out the windshield. He felt one fall down and the car ran it over with the front tire first rising then coming down with a wet crunching noise.

  “Why the fuck did I grab a sports car?” he yelled at himself as the rear tire lifted over the zombie. He could see between a couple of the dead that were on the hood and maneuvered behind the fire truck and back on to the highway.

  As Tuck was pulling away he saw out the rearview mirror two people on top of the fire truck. So that was where the screaming was coming from.

  Alright, so he had found them. Now what?

  Tuck sat thinking, watching the woman and her son waving to him. If he could see their eyes he would see the desperation for survival. Ok. All he needed was a plan. That was what kept him alive in prison was always to be the man with the best plan. Even if that usually ended with someone getting killed not saved. In the rear view mirror he watched the mom and son waving their hands for help and he also saw all the zombies coming for him.

  “That’s it you bastards.” Tuck laid on the horn and the car started to slowly crawl forward. The zombies were falling for the bait and lining up behind the Audi. “Here we go.” Tuck pushed the button that locked the doors and then opened the sunroof. He slammed the stick into reverse and got the car up to forty-seven miles per hour as he struck the first zombie and sent it flying.