New DEAD series (Book 4): DEAD [Don Evans Must Die] Page 15

  I noticed a few people walk past the dugout and glance inside. The evil leer they usually shot me…us…was enough to creep me out. But when Don Evans appeared with Natasha on one side and the blond wrapped in leather, I sat up straight.

  “You ready to prove yourself, Evan?” Don hissed, almost as if he didn’t want anybody to hear him. “You are about to get your chance. And I’m even gonna make it easy for you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I worked to school my voice and not sound angry or disgusted.

  “Last time I gave you a chance to show me what you were made of…you failed me.”

  I was about to challenge him on what the hell he meant. I mean if it was escaping, then I was pretty sure anybody in my shoes would’ve done the same. I didn’t get the chance because he turned his back on me and stepped out toward the octagon ring.

  Obviously he was about to address the crowd. When he turned, he had a smile plastered on his face that looked like any cheesy salesman I’d ever met. There was nothing real in that expression. All I had to do was wait and see what he had up his sleeve. Around that same time was when I noticed the telltale stench of the undead.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for…”

  9

  New Lows

  Don Evans looked past where I was locked up to address the crowd gathered. From the sounds of it, the numbers were substantial. I was torn between watching him and seeking the source of the smell of undeath that grew stronger.

  “We almost have ourselves to blame,” Don continued as if nothing was amiss. “We sat back and kept waiting for others to fix the problem. And when those courageous few stepped forward and tried to right this sinking ship, we did nothing as the societal sheep shut them down and called them racists, bigots, or rednecks.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. I glanced over at Karasinda. She was on her feet, her face pressed to the steel mesh that sealed off the dugout. I was certain that I heard her sniff. My guess was that she smelled them as well. She knew what the walking dead smelled like.

  They were drawing near, but Don continued his monologue. “We let the poor live off the sweat of our brow, but then the illegals swarmed into our country and nobody lifted a finger. We turned a blind eye, and pretty soon, we had to press one for English when we called our doctor or banker. We sat back and did nothing as billions of dollars were spent making sure that illegal fucking Mexicans and lazy ass blacks had food, housing, and health care. And meanwhile, the real Americans, the hard-working white men and women were deprived of even basic needs.

  “The blacks wanted their own colleges and demanded reparation for something that happened before their grandparents were alive. As if welfare and food stamps weren’t enough! All the while, you just sat back and allowed it. And anytime somebody questioned it…they…we were told that we were intolerant. But those days have come to an end.”

  Don paused as a roar of approval and furious applause exploded. Again, I glanced over at Karasinda. She was no longer pressed to the fencing. She’d taken a few steps back. The look on her face was a brand of horror that I’d never seen on a person’s face before.

  There was something about it that was like a cross between fear, revulsion, and a sadness beyond anything I’d ever known to be possible. But there was something else there. And that was perhaps the worst part. I saw a resignation.

  Don turned to his left and a smile broke across his features that actually made me take a physical step back. Maybe it was the shadows playing tricks, but in that moment, his eyes seemed black. Like two pieces of obsidian.

  “What we do tonight will hopefully send a message. The time is now to reclaim what is ours. There will be no rest until we have completed the mission I have set in front of us.” Don motioned to his left, and I could hear the sounds of clinking chains…and crying?

  I had no idea what I would see when whatever it was came into view, but I had a feeling it was going to be bad. I don’t think I could’ve imagined in my worst nightmares what came into view.

  A few of Don’s people were holding long chains. At the ends of those chains were shambling undead. That part was no big deal. I’d long since become numb to the sight of them.

  It was what was on their backs that made me shudder. Each of the zombies was fitted with a harness. In fact, they were replicas of the odd device I’d seen earlier. Strapped to the back of each zombie was a child! Between the ages of maybe two or three to perhaps ten, these children were secured into the harness devices. All of them were crying, some were calling for their mommy or daddy.

  In total, there were five zombies with a child secured to their backs. And of course, since this was Don Evans, they were all either Black or Hispanic.

  I was a mix of confused and horrified. Neither emotion could gain enough of a foothold to assume a dominant position in my psyche. It was another moment before I realized that some of the crying I was hearing was coming from Karasinda.

  I looked over at her and saw that she’d pressed herself to the cage again. She was looking at the undead and doing her best to reach her fingers through the fencing.

  I looked back to Don and saw that he was overseeing this monstrosity with a benevolent smile that you would expect to find on the face of a loving parent. I was sickened by the thought that I could actually discern true joy and happiness at what he was witnessing.

  The handlers led the undead into the octagon, and a terrible feeling rose in me that threatened to cause me to be sick. I honestly had no idea what was about to happen, but nothing good was going to come from this. That much was a certainty.

  “Bring in the special guests!” Don barked like a ringmaster or carnival game barker.

  The woman with the long, blond hair stepped away, and a moment later, she returned with a young Hispanic woman in perhaps her early twenties and a dark-skinned boy in his teens. Both were barely able to walk. When they were yanked forward by Don and turned to face the crowd, I staggered back a step.

  Both had black tracers in their eyes. It would not be long before they died and turned. The young woman swayed back and forth, and I don’t really think she was aware of her surroundings. Her tan skin was waxy and already taking on a sickly hue. Her gaze was unfocused and her long, black hair was matted and hanging in her face, occasionally falling in her eyes, shielding them from view.

  The boy was not as far gone, and it was clear he was terrified. He had an unbandaged wound on his forearm that was an obvious bite. The woman had one as well, but it had become an angry, red, swollen wound that dripped yellowish fluid.

  The woman who led them into view came towards me. She drew a massive, chrome plated revolver that was reminiscent of Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum,”…the most powerful handgun around, and it will blow your head clean off.” Those words resonated in my head as I found myself staring down the business end.

  “Step away from the gate,” the woman snarled.

  I did as I was told as Don bent at the waist and stage-whispered to me, “Now is when you get to show me what you are worth.”

  The two infected individuals were shoved through the entrance to the dugout and she quickly slapped the padlock back on, effectively securing me inside with two people who would become zombies very soon. Immediately, the foul stink washed over me. It was made worse by the rotten smell of the festering wound on the woman’s arm. It reminded me of raw chicken left out on the counter in a hot house for about three days with an underlying sickly sweetness that cause my mouth to fill with saliva as my stomach threatened to launch its contents.

  “Now, if you can survive their turning and allow them to turn that little bitch in there with you, you will find the key to your cell in her stomach,” he said with almost no emotion at all. “But…” and now he looked up to address the crowd, “…first, there will be entertainment. While we wait for our guests to transition, I offer you the first of what I promise will be many more spectacles for your pleasure.”

  I
looked up into the octagon and saw that the handlers had brought their charges into the ring and set the three zombies away from each other. They all dropped their controlling chains and hurried for the exit. As soon as the last one had stepped out, the door to the octagon was slammed shut with a metallic clang.

  At first, nothing happened. I was momentarily confused as to how this would suffice as entertainment. Even the crowd had gone silent and I thought that perhaps they were just as confused.

  Then…one of the children cried.

  Almost in unison, the zombies all turned for the sound. Even the one with the child strapped to its back that had made the noise was trying to turn in circles to get at the sound. In any other situation, it might’ve been comical to watch the zombie turning in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

  The two other zombies were now closing in on the one with the sobbing child. I could see now that it was a little girl. Her dark skin glistened with the tears gushing from her eyes and I could see her expression change as one of the zombies drew to within just a few steps away.

  “Mommy!” the child wailed as she reached for the approaching zombie.

  This little girl was the youngest of the three children and obviously had no idea what was happening. I could only watch in fascinated horror as the zombie moved closer to the child. The zombie carrying the child on its back stumbled and collided with the fence surrounding the octagon.

  The little boy on the back of the zombie that was now only a step away from the little girl that was screaming for her mommy began to yell at the child to be quiet.

  “Hush, Lawonda!’” the little boy pleaded. “That ain’t mama. She one of them things now.”

  The little girl did not seem to understand. And then, the woman zombie managed to get her hands on one of the outstretched arms of the little girl.

  “Noooooo,” Karasinda wailed. “Not the baby!”

  She flung herself at the cage and began to smack it with open hands. She shouted the little girl’s name, but it was too late. Not that she would’ve done anything but possibly delay what was a forgone conclusion.

  The child’s cries for her mother quickly changed. At first there was one heartbeat of silence. It was as if the world paused and awaited the reaction.

  The scream.

  It started as a yelp and changed almost instantly. I closed my eyes, but not before I saw the zombie rip away a chunk of the little girl’s arm in a spray of crimson. And it continued. That terrible scream that only a person being eaten alive can produce.

  And then I heard another sound. And it was enough to make me finally lose my bout with nausea.

  The crowd cheered.

  I bent over, hand on my knees and threw up. With very little in my belly, it was mostly the stinging burn of stomach acid forcing its way up my throat.

  “You aren’t being very convincing,” a voice whispered.

  I looked up to see Don leaning against the door. His expression was complete disapproval. I wiped my mouth and tried in absolute futility to ignore the continued screams of the little girl.

  Despite not wanting to see what was happening, I glanced over for the briefest of moments. Both zombies were pawing at the one carrying the girl. It had turned and was being shoved into the fence. It was also the exact moment that one of them stumbled back. It was holding what I knew had to be at least part of an arm that it had managed to wrench free.

  The screams rose in that second and went mercifully silent. Only, by now, both the children on the backs of the other two zombies were wailing. The little boy that I assumed to be related to the toddler that had just been savagely mauled was yelling threats and curses at the undead much too harsh for his young years.

  The zombie that had been carrying the little girl shoved free from where it had been pinned to the cage and swiped at him. I heard a meaty smack followed by a pained yelp.

  I squeezed my eyes shut again. Unable to watch what was unfolding just a few yards away. I could hear Karasinda weeping and muttering something over and over that sounded like it had the cadence of a prayer.

  “Open your eyes, you weak fuck,” Don’s voice hissed. “Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.”

  I opened them and met his gaze. He was glaring as he leaned close, lips curled in a sneer.

  “If you can’t hang, then I have no use for you…not that I expected you to be of any use. Don’t think I didn’t peg you as one of those weak-kneed liberal bastards that ran this country into the ground with your race mixing and blind eye to a goddamned invasion of Mexicans that took jobs we did in grade school. Hell, we used to look forward to the summer berry picking sign-up sheet at the end of every school year. Make a few bucks and eat enough strawberries that you didn’t want to see another…’til next summer.”

  I had to literally bite down on the inside of my mouth not to reply. It was only a small and hard to hear voice in my head that reminded me that I had a task to complete.

  The crowd continued to cheer, hoot, and holler as the carnage in the octagon continued. Another scream started and transformed. Don actually paused to look over his shoulder. When he turned back to me, he was smiling and shaking his head.

  “You don’t think this is a bit…” I was at a loss for words. Nothing seemed to fit the absolutely senseless and purely evil violence taking place.

  “Inspired?” Don finished.

  Not even close to what I might’ve said.

  “I can’t really take all the credit. That key in the stomach thing? I stole that from Saw…at least I think that was the movie.” Don rubbed his chin in thought before shrugging. “Anyway, I think this will send a message.”

  “How…” I started, but another scream cut me off. Don glanced over his shoulder and clapped his hands together once, cutting me off.

  “That one was too fast.” He shook his head in disappointment as the scream ended just a split second after it began. “We might have to put collars on the bait to keep the zeds from biting their throats and ending the show so fast.” He turned back to me. “And your part of the entertainment is about to begin.”

  At first, I was unsure as to what he might be referring to…until the smell registered. I knew without looking that at least one of the two individuals thrown into the dugout had turned.

  I turned to see that Karasinda was backed into the far corner. She was staring straight ahead, but shock had won over and she was basically catatonic. Her eyes were glassy, and she was not seeing anything as far as I could tell.

  “This is your time, Evan,” Don sing-songed.

  I watched as the girl with the suppurating wound began to stir from where she’d finally collapsed to the floor at some point in this nightmare. Shadows made it impossible to get a good look at her face, but I didn’t need to see.

  I could smell.

  I stepped back behind the stirring figure. That put me closer to Don. He’s come down to the gate that had the dugout sealed and was leaning beside where the hinges were.

  “Let the zombies do their thing and then you can end them all.” He tapped his temple as if suddenly remembering something. “Actually, I want you to leave that little whore so that she is still able to move around. I have plans for her. But carving her open to retrieve the key won’t kill her once she has become one of them.”

  “That’s nasty,” I whispered. I thought I’d said it under my breath enough so that he couldn’t hear me. I was wrong.

  “Gotta love them Saw movies,” Don crowed. “Damn those were classics.”

  I’d never been a fan of what I had always considered torture porn. Films like Saw and Hostel weren’t horror. They just made people cringe. Of course, now I was living the worst of both worlds.

  By now, the girl had managed to reach a sitting position. Her head jerked around as she searched her surroundings. When Karasinda let loose with a muffled cry, the zombie’s head snapped to her like it was locking onto a target.

  The moan that she emitted made me shudder and I held my b
reath as she rose to her feet. By now, the boy that had been brought in as well had slumped against a wall and the stink of the undead was growing stronger.

  The girl zombie was trying to get to her feet and had ended up on her hands and knees. Being so close to her intended target, I guess she decided crawling was sufficient. She was only a few feet away from Karasinda.

  I wanted to tell her to do something. Anything.

  “Nona?” Karasinda croaked. “There gotta be something left of you in there. You remember me. You babysat me and my brother when we was little. Your brother Trayvonn is my baby’s daddy…” Her gaze shot to the octagon as her voice faded.

  “Oh…Trayvonn,” Don said with an evil glee. “We still got him up in the pen.”

  “The pen?” I mumbled. Then I remembered that cage I’d passed. It stood to reason that the cage was probably what he was referring to.

  Considering all I’d already seen, I had no idea what Don was so happy about involving this Trayvonn character, but I was certain it would not be good.

  By now, the zombie had reached Karasinda. It was my moment of truth. Every part of me was screaming to leap into action.

  If I was some sort of action hero, I could save that girl and still get out of this. I knew better. Hell, I still had no idea how I might actually be able to kill Don Evans, but I knew for a fact that, if I didn’t play along, I would die right here in this dugout.

  Karasinda seemed to suddenly become aware of what was happening and let loose with a shriek. It was so sudden and jarring that I put my hands to my ears. When the zombie latched on to her ankle, I knew that it was all but over.

  The next moments all blurred together. Time either stopped, or flew by, I honestly have no idea which the most accurate description would be.