Page 23 of Creepy (The Zombiepidemic #1)

L ike before when the Stayers captured me, I woke in a cage in front of the Bentley Hotel.

Four wire walls surrounded me. They weren’t medieval or anything.

The branding read Industrial Enclosures.

However, there were honest to God Tiki torches lining the streets.

The savages lurked around me holding torches of their own if they weren’t holding a bottled beer.

Picking myself up off the ground had been a mistake.

I’d forgotten what had put me here, about the blow to my head.

As soon as I raised it, the world spun. Mimicking the worst headache, pain radiated deep in my skull.

Still, I’d already started. Continuing, I made it to my knees and saw they’d left my clothes on this time.

I was still in the leatherware, spiked bra, boots, and all. All but my rifle.

Using the cage, I climbed, dragging myself up to stand.

Rowan greeted me. Like before in Creepy, I recognized him, but he wasn’t alright.

Rowan’s gait was off, too, like his upper half hung off a thread.

His head swung to one side. His shoulders drooped forward.

He resembled a marionette puppet with no master.

He slurred his words so bad I couldn’t understand anything but the name, “Dillon.”

Fuck. This wasn’t the Rowan I’d known, the young, fit, and handsome baseball star who’d gone on to LSU. It was as if he were a zombie but not rotting away. He was a mindless drone.

Goddamn it. The puppet did have a master. Dillon knew all along. He knew about my stalker, about the flowers being left on my porch. Did he put Rowan in Creepy to watch me? Did Dillon order this kidnapping?

Gazing up at the huge hotel with its one lit window, I gulped.

Dillon was up on the third floor. He knew I hated that floor that was said to be haunted by its builder.

The fact Dillon holed up in the very hotel that had been our planned wedding venue hadn’t been lost on me.

Although, if there was anywhere in Alexandria that would double as a palace for the end of the world, this one-hundred-year-old hotel would do.

I asked about Dillon, but Rowan gurgled out an answer, spitting on me in the process.

As I cleaned my face and then my hands on my pants, a man stepped beside Rowan.

“Is she ready?” It was Karl, Dillon’s bodyguard, who sometimes accompanied him on his weekly visits to Creepy.

“Ready for what,” I asked as the cage opened, and Karl took me by the hair.

“The audacity,” I started, wanting to threaten Karl, warn him that Dillon wouldn’t like me being treated this way.

But instead, him yanking the hair on my otherwise aching head rendered me mute.

Although I was sure I would be taken to Dillon straight away, my confidence faded as we headed instead for a pickup truck.

In one motion, Kyle hauled me into the back of it with him.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we drove away from the hotel.

Karl laughed low but didn’t answer me. His grip on me grew tighter when I struggled.

As a result, I stopped fighting so I could see.

We appeared to head farther into the city.

It was hard to tell because the surrounding buildings blocked out any natural light from the stars and the nearly full moon.

But soon we came upon more torches lining the streets and the moon itself lined up perfectly between the buildings.

The truck stopped at a gate, rocking us forward.

Karl’s hold on me intensified as result, so I couldn’t escape.

As another man got out of the passenger side, he towed me out of the truck bed.

Why was I being put in a bigger cage?

Fencing lined the street that ran between the rows of buildings.

Alexandria didn’t have skyscrapers, but it boasted plenty of historic and picturesque mid-rise structures.

I knew them well enough. I’d been downtown Alexandria many times for parades and festivals.

Sometimes the sidewalks were so crowded, we’d watch from up in the open, multi-level parking garages on either side of the road.

I could see flashes of fire there now. In the moonlight, a multitude of faces became visible, like people lined them waiting for a parade.

What were they watching?

As Karl shoved me toward the gate, I saw that the whole stretch of the boulevard that laid before me, at least a couple of blocks of it, was fenced off.

As one Stayer unlocked the bar that held the gate secure, Karl continued to drive his fingers right between my shoulder blades, inching me forward.

Evidently, they were planning on putting me in there.

Panicked, I used the momentum of Karl’s shove to whirl around so I could run off.

The bodyguard caught me in his burly, hairy arms. My face smashed into his bulletproof vest. My ankle screamed below.

There was no way I’d be running anywhere.

“Oh no, Creepy. You’re not getting away this time.” His hand became a vice around my upper arm.

Synchronized, one man opened the gate a hair, wide enough for little ole me, and Karl tossed me through. I stumbled but didn’t fall, a miracle. Amazingly, at my feet lay my rifle from earlier. I rushed to retrieve it as they locked me in. I pointed my semi-automatic straight at Karl’s head.

“Let me go, Karl. Dillon...” I invoked my ex’s name.

“No can-do. These here are Dillon’s orders.”

“I’ll kill you.” I readied the gun.

“I wouldn’t waste your bullets, sweetheart. How many rounds do you have in that magazine? Thirty-five?”

Maybe. I didn’t answer as Karl called on the radio. “Send in a dozen.”

“A dozen what,” I asked as the crowd howled overhead.

Slowly, I turned to see what all the fuss was about.

At the end of the street, another gate opened, a truck backed in and dumped a pile of limp bodies.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. They were releasing zombies into this gigantic cage with me.

In the distance, I watched their sluggish, grotesque rise as the truck drove out of the enclosure and the far gate closed.

Dead bodies breakdanced their way up from the heap on the ground.

A memory of watching a Thriller Parade on this very spot one Halloween danced through my head as if my mind tried to cope through humor.

These zombies looked nothing like Michael Jackson’s dancers.

Yes, the rotting flesh on real zombies almost turned me vegan for good.

I laughed out loud, sounding like I’d gone mad.

However, survival mode was quickly kicking in. I stopped laughing.

Was Dillon having me killed?

Adrenaline soared through me, but I couldn’t do much more than be utterly terrified, on alert.

Clutching my gun, I held extremely still.

Holding my breath, I watched them like a hawk.

The monsters hadn’t noticed me. The street was lit, so they’d be slower, easier to kill.

Light, even artificial ones weakened zombies.

I used to marvel at the supernatural fact that felt so commonplace now.

Briefly, I cursed Dillon again. Sure, they were slower, and I had a weapon.

If I killed all the zombies, would they release me?

What sort of game was Dillon playing?

All the monsters, on their feet now, meandered around at a snail’s pace.

At any moment, one could notice me. They wouldn’t be too slow then.

The crowd above grew louder, and the zombies seemed to want to climb the walls.

For the first time I noticed there was fencing above me as well, but about two stories up, tall enough to keep the zombies away from the spectators but close enough for the crowd to throw down raw meat to draw them nearby.

The Stayers were a vicious bunch, entertained by torturing the former humans, it seemed.

Movement came from the middle of the street and the zombies climbed down the fence too fast, like they knew something I did not.

On my right, about halfway up the street, another gate opened.

Blinking a few times, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Larger than you’d imagine, a freaking Lion stepped into the middle of the street.

Fuck.

The crowd cheered above.

A female, the animal had no mane. Bloody, she was gravely injured already.

I thought of the Zoo down in town and wondered about the other animals for a moment.

I doubt any of them had survived. My heart broke and my stomach turned knowing what was about to happen.

The smell of her blood attracted the zombies.

In a pack, they rushed toward the lion as fast as they could, about as fast as a casual jogger.

Stepping forward, I planned to shoot the lioness first, put her out of her misery, but with one step an unbearable pain shot up my leg.

Geezus. My ankle thumped in the boot. I reached in my pocket for the pills Mabel had given me.

I popped one of them and then another, swallowing them dry.

The painkillers would give me about thirty, forty-five minutes until I was out cold.

If I couldn’t kill twelve zombies before then, I was done for, anyway.

In the meantime, the medicine might kick in and give me a boost.

Taking a deep breath, I muscled through the pain to get close enough to hit the lioness without being too close to the zombie horde attacking it.

As I fired too many rounds, they resounded in my aching head.

I knew this was all part of his plan. Dillon knew everything about me, including my zodiac sign, Leo.

He used to make fun of me for reading my horoscope, but often bought me gifts depicting a lion.

Now, the lioness represented me. The blood on the cat drew the zombies closer, and the sound of my rifle would bring the creatures right to me.

At least there was nowhere to run and the zombies would come my way.

I wouldn’t have to use my bad ankle too much.

Once the lion stopped fighting, I aimed for the zombies, their heads.

By all means, I wasn’t a bad shot, but there was no way I could take care of all these zombies before they got finished with the lion and came for me.

Soon, it would click that a human was near.

Animal blood could fool them for a while but not for long.

Just as legend predicted, the undead craved brain tissue.

Experts claimed there was a scientific reason.

After all, the undead before me weren’t technically dead.

The virus in them was alive and well, animating the body the best it could, looking for another host.

From a distance, I shot one, again and again, trying to aim for the head.

The others caught on and trotted my way, one after another.

And one after another, I fired, hitting them, but it wasn’t enough.

By the time the first zombie reached me, I was out of bullets.

I dropped my gun and secured my stance to try some self-defense moves like Arlo had taught me, but while I kicked up my good leg, a zombie behind me yanked me down.

When I fell, it became apparent the medicine had done little to relieve my pain.

Evidently, it was third down, and I had the football.

The zombies tackled me, fighting each other for rights to my neck.

My elbows flew up in defense, and those hideous pads didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Covered in zombies, I grasped at their slick skin and gooey flesh, tearing off chunks to no avail.

All the while, the weight of the creatures made it harder and harder for me to breathe.

As it became clearer, I might not survive, that I was being crushed to death, I realized I’d forgotten all about Troy.

Even though, now, I thought only of my brother and about the fact it would be a damn shame I would never get to be an aunt.

Especially after I’d survived this long.

However, without me around, at least Dillon and the Stayers might leave them alone.

Might. Then, I thought of how I’d do anything for my brother and his child to survive.

I should’ve radioed Dillon right away and given myself up, not only to save Troy but to protect my brother and his friends too.

As I was fixing to die, I realized the zombies hadn’t reached my neck.

They were too busy competing for the chance, attacking one another but using me as their playing field.

Asphyxiation it would be. The crowd was going wild, shooting their weapons into the air. The Stayers were celebrating my death.

My eyes grew heavy, my breathing became shallow, but I relaxed all over.

My pain faded away. My eyes closed completely next.

The heavy weight of this world left me. Jesus took me into his arms to carry me away.

I felt like I was floating. But abruptly, Jesus threw me to the ground.

He covered my mouth with his. What was it with all these men wanting a piece of me?

The next thing I knew, I gasped. Taking another breath, I coughed.

He said my name over and over, not Creepy or Sissy, but Innocent while he slapped at my cheek.

Sounding strange, the name got my attention.

I opened my eyes the tiniest crack, expecting to see a blinding light, but Dillon glared down at me, his blue-grey eyes piercing.

A rush of bile filled my mouth as I puked a bit, turning my head to spit it out.

Not dead at all, I’d been rescued by the very man who’d just tried to kill me.