Four (Their Dead Lives,1) Read online

  Lexington carried the wounded CJ with Kelsey and Nasir right behind him. They were a good distance ahead of Scot on the highway. Kelsey spun back and yelled for him to hurry.

  Zombies moaned close behind him. Six zombie bikers stormed up the highway. They were sprinters, not the shambling stumblers that had attacked the patio. So, many, bikers. It just isn’t funny anymore. As he raced for his group, he heard a cry for help.

  “Wait for me!” Jacky rushed out of the restaurant. Her feet tripped over one another and she slammed face first on the cement.

  The zombie bikers closed in on her.

  Scot skidded to a stop. Jacky’s nose had broken from the fall, and her face was covered in blood. The other survivors, having no idea she was there, kept running. The road was clear their way. Safe. He took a step toward them, wanting to leave Jacky behind.

  Jacky cried again, only yards away from Scot, reaching up from the cement and dragging her legs. The chance to save her presented itself. Act now or flee. Her hand strained in his direction, reaching for him. His fingers clenched around Bashing Betty. Act or flee. He swigged from the whiskey bottle, and he fled.

  The two fastest bikers tugged at Jacky, lifting her in the air. More bikers latched on. She kicked and screamed, flailing, pulled in opposite directions.

  The last thing Scot saw of Jacky was her body rip in half, her insides spilling across the highway. Vomit rose in his gut, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the alcohol or revulsion. Probably both.

  The others survivors were a good distance ahead of him. Nasir found a six-foot ledge leading up to a tree line. They debated over something for only seconds, then Lexington heaved Nasir up the ledge first. The old man stood and aimed Scot’s way. Scot’s eyes widened as he flinched, but he kept running for his group. Please shoot the zombies and not me.

  Lexington helped CJ up next. Part of the fragile ledge snapped off, dirt and rock crumbled around Kelsey. She backed away but Nasir yelled for her to stay still. She was the closest to the highway when Scot reached them. However, he stayed on the cement, cautious to run off to the dirt mound with the others.

  North was clear. An open safe highway beckoned to him. “Let’s keep running!” He swung back to face the moans. The zombie bikers had disposed of Jacky and were now closing in on the group. Scot guessed they were only thirty yards away.

  “We will lose them up here.” Nasir helped CJ to his feet, then aimed back at the approaching zombie gang.

  Twenty yards away.

  Torn, Scot glanced at them, then at the clear path. You can save yourself. Leave them. His hands shook around Bashing Betty and the whiskey bottle as he stepped toward freedom.

  Bullets erupted from Nasir’s rifle.

  Lexington helped Kelsey up the dirt ledge but it crumbled again. Of course. Kelsey fell on top of the porn star and they slid down the dirt mound, struggled to rise.

  Run, he told himself. Save your damn self, Scot.

  Ten yards away.

  Nasir cocked his rifle and fired. A bullet missed the zombie bikers completely. Another bullet ripped a biker’s shoulder open but didn’t slow it down.

  Five yards away.

  With Lexington’s help, Kelsey lunged for the ledge again. I can live with letting Jacky die, but...

  Scot brought the whiskey bottle to his lips, gave it a quick kiss and charged forward. He threw the bottle at the closest zombie biker. The glass bounced off its head and landed half-full on the dirt.

  Why didn’t it break its head open?!

  Scot raised Bashing Betty and swung with everything he had. The bat cracked a zombie biker’s face open. He fell through his swing and almost toppled to the cement. But he caught himself, spinning back without taking aim, smacking Betty against another rotting corpse. This one was a much more massive bastard than the first one he’d struck. Bashing Betty vibrated in his grip as he fell forward.

  But he rose again.

  Lexington joined Scot in his fight. He smashed a fist in the face of the closest zombie biker. When he retracted his muscular arm, bits of flesh and skull clung to his fingers.

  Scot swung, missing every last one of them. Before he could get ready to strike again, their hands grabbed him, shoved him, and crushed him down to the highway. Daylight vanished. Nails and teeth tore at him. He kicked and screamed and reached for Bashing Betty but all he felt were their teeth ripping his flesh.

  I’ve killed myself.

  Saliva splattered on his face. They chewed his legs open. Bikers clawed at his chest and limbs and everything was drowned out by their moans and the sloppy sounds of their chewing. His skin was peeled from his bicep, revealing red muscles underneath.

  Bullets kept ringing from above.

  Scot shut his eyes. Stillness. His mind blocked out every noise, every flash of pain as his skin was torn away.

  All those moments from the past, all those conflicts with Kale, they would soon mean nothing.

  My destiny is to become one of them. He prepared to join the dead.

  Then, a splash of light fractured through darkness.

  Lexington Gunn lifted the last zombie biker off Scot. The man heaved the creature up using his hulking arms and snapped its neck with one quick turn. Its body dropped to the ground. One stomp of Lexington’s boot finished it off. Flesh and bone exploded across dirt. Chunks of its brain landed, heavy and wet, on Scot’s clothing.

  A glob landed next to his dying eyes.

  Lexington reached for him. “I got you, kid.” His deep voice was comforting, soothing.

  Scot grabbed the whiskey bottle before Lexington threw him over his shoulder. With the help of Nasir and Kelsey, they climbed the ledge.

  Fighting to stay conscious, he saw her beautiful face. She glowed, his angel, ready to take him from this hell. “Scot,” her heavenly voice drifted.

  He tossed Kelsey his best blood-filled smile. “You should see the other guys.” And with his trembling arm, he brought the whiskey bottle to his lips.

  Of all the drinks in his life, he felt it the first he’d actually earned.

  eight years earlier

  THEM

  Green Hills spun.

  Back slumped against the damp wall of the well, Scot’s strawberry blond hair scraped the bricks as he tried to stand. His hand wobbled in the air. Kicking his feet in a blanket of leaves covering the ground, he grabbed his throbbing head. Where are you, asshole? He fell. Tremors ran through his hand as it slipped in his plaid shorts, pulling out his cell phone. You’re out there. Where? His finger shook over the number 9 and accidentally hit the 8. He groaned before correcting the mistake.

  1—

  The phone slipped from his shaking fingers but he caught it before it hit the ground.

  1—

  His finger rushed for the CALL button, but a gloved hand slapped the phone from his grasp. The dark cloak stared down at him, face masked by black.

  Screaming, Scot leapt away onto some leaves, and he crawled on his elbows as a black glove struck for his ankle. He flipped over, kicked and clawed at dirt, cried for anyone to help him.

  Taking one of his legs, cold hands twisted forcefully in opposite directions. The pain was so incredible, Scot knew this couldn’t be real.

  Another twist snapped bone through skin.

  Jeff “Homer” Brennan awoke in utter darkness. He flailed around in a small puddle, grabbing his sore neck, and tried to adjust to the lack of light. “Alec? Scot?” He pushed off the damp ground and placed a hand on a slimy brick wall. Yuck! He quickly withdrew his hand, limping a couple of steps, only to be yanked to a stop. A chain was wrapped around his ankle. Trapped. Gripping the heavy chain, he tugged weakly, still in a daze.

  A whisper slid out of the darkness.

  Jeff spun, raising two hands. “Who’s here?” His voice cracked.

  “Ho-Homer.”

  “Alec!” Jeff leapt for the voice but the chain ripped him back. Where the hell are we? “Alec, I’m stuck. Where are you?”

  Alec’
s voice echoed eerily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jo-joked around.”

  “It’s okay. Just, are you chained up like I am?” Jeff scanned the dark. A single ray of light seeped in from above. High above. A small crack in the ceiling perhaps. “Alec, where are we?”

  Jeff felt a touch on his shoulder. Alec quickly calmed him. “I don’t know and no, I’m not chained.”

  Their hands fumbled in the darkness, and they exchanged a trembling hug. “Scot, Kale, you guys here?”

  A creak sounded from above.

  Their heads shot up. “Where the hell are we?” Jeff asked again.

  “Hang on.” Alec fumbled in his jeans, then flicked a lighter. A small glow helped dispel the blackness.

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “I don’t. Brian does.”

  “I didn’t know he smoked.” Jeff followed the small flickering flame cupped in Alec’s hand as Alec arced the lighter around, revealing curved, brick walls forming a cylinder.

  “Looks like a well,” observed Alec. “A big one.”

  Jeff pointed to a compact, square opening at the bottom. “Where do you think that leads?”

  Alec moved toward the hole, splashing in the small puddle. He crouched and shoved the lighter inside.

  “Dude.” Jeff whispered. He’s going to lose his arm!

  “I need a better look.” Alec crawled halfway in the tiny tunnel.

  He’s going to lose his head! “Alec, get out of there,” Jeff whispered frantically. His legs shook as he watched.

  “Hang on, might be a way out,” Alec replied, but then his whole body jolted and he froze.

  Jeff grabbed his own head, wanted to scream. Instead, he called quietly, “Alec?”

  No response.

  “Alec, no joking around again!” Jeff dropped, grabbed Alec’s waist and tugged at his red t-shirt.

  Alec swung an arm out the hole, grabbing Jeff, who helped him out, and they stood together in the darkness.

  “What was it?”

  Alec brushed his own arm, the small flame sputtering. “It got—it got so cold. I don’t know what’s in there, but it’s something bad, Homer. Something really bad.” He shivered against Jeff, who wrapped his arms around Alec, holding his friend tightly.

  “We leave as four,” Jeff whispered.

  “As four.” Alec pulled away, sniffled twice, and raised the flame.

  And Jeff’s eyes locked on something past his friend.

  “Homer?” Nothing. “Jeff!”

  “Give me the lighter.” Jeff grabbed it from Alec’s hand, pushed past him, and shoved the light against the brick wall, revealing the engraved words:

  Embrace Me

  The hairs on the back of Jeff’s neck rose all at once.

  Alec twitched nervously next to him. “Who?”

  Moving the lighter, Jeff illuminated another carving. “Look at this one.”

  Words scratched in the bricks wrapped around the cylinder wall. Within this dark, feel the calm cold breath. Within these shadows, embrace eternal death.

  The light flickered between the two friends as they stared at each other. There were more engravings. One looked distinct from the others. A frantic scribing, hurried and afraid read: The Embracer lurks above.

  “The what?”

  Alec never responded.

  A screech pierced the darkness, and before they could read the other inscriptions, the lighter slipped from Jeff’s hand, dropping into the puddle. The flame vanished but light poured in from above as a human silhouette shoved the circular lid off the well and then vanished.

  Jeff tried to block the light out, squinting with his hand raised. The silhouette returned, this time holding a body. “Alec, is that—”

  The limp body was released. They watched as Scot fell and flailed his way down, joining them in the dark. He landed on top of Jeff and Alec, knocking them against the brick wall. They lowered around their unconscious friend. Jeff caught a glimpse of the cuts on his face and his shattered leg before the lid screeched back over the top of the well. The lid paused, halfway across. Left in semi-darkness, Jeff wondered about Kale. He didn’t voice his fears, though, and instead whispered, “We leave as four.”

  “We have to go back. We have to go back for them.” Kale was frantic as he reached from the truck’s back seat, parked on the side of the road where he’d fallen. His arm dangled on the front seat, between the two men that bore a family resemblance to one another. “Please.”

  “We’ll get the police, kid, then head back for your friends.” The middle-aged man wearing a trucker hat insisted. He hesitantly cast a look at the man in the passenger seat. “Right, bro?”

  The younger man paused before responding. “Well,” he scratched his head, “if his friends need us now, then maybe we should—”

  “Yes!” Kale lunged forward, snapping up the opportunity. “There’s no time.”

  “Oh!” The younger man’s eyes lit up as he remembered. “Plus, I have this.” He opened the glove compartment and whipped out a small pistol.

  Trucker Hat shook his head in dismay. “Why the hell did you buy that, Paul?”

  Paul looked at his brother. “Well, Fred,”—he glanced at Kale–“you never know when you’re going to run into a kid who needs you to rescue his friends.”

  Fred groaned, lowered his head to the steering wheel. “Fine, let’s go.”

  Alec and Jeff helped Scot to his feet once he regained consciousness. The fifteen-year-old was covered in cuts and bruises. He tried to stand on two feet but screamed in pain. “That fuck broke my leg!”

  “You’ll be okay,” Alec soothed as he helped Scot balance. “We’ll figure a way out of here. We leave as four.”

  The three friends huddled close together.

  “I wonder if Kale made it,” Jeff breathed over them. “Maybe he got help or something. I didn’t see him up there.”

  “Hopefully. I don’t want to know what this Embracer guy is going to do with us.”

  “Embracer guy?” Scot asked, trying to balance.

  “It was a name engraved on the wall.”

  “Did you guys get a solid look at him? He’s a fucking mutant.” Scot whimpered from the pain in his leg. “His eyes, they’re strange.”

  “Shit, Scot! Everything is strange about him! He has us locked in a damn well!”

  Homer is losing it. Alec grabbed his large friend’s shoulder. “Calm down, bud. The only thing that matters now is finding a way out. So let’s focus on that.”

  Jeff took a deep breath and scratched his head. ”Okay, okay. Sorry, I’ll try and keep cool.” The chubby teenager hugged Scot. “Sorry.”

  Scot nodded. “Let’s get out of here, Homester.”

  Alec peered up, squinting against the light. The cylinder lid covered half of the distant opening. “How far up do you think the top is?”

  “Maybe fifteen or twenty feet?” Scot grabbed his leg as pain shot through his body. “Of course, I have terrible depth perception. Could be fifty feet for fuck I know.”

  I have to get back to Nicole. Alec rubbed his face, thinking. “What if we balance on top of each other; do you think we can reach it?”

  “Might as well try.” Jeff’s voice drifted as he stared up.

  “Homer, you be our anchor. I’ll get on you, then we lift Scot.” Alec climbed on Jeff’s shoulders, balanced himself by pressing two hands against the slimy brick wall.

  “I don’t think I’m climbing anything with this leg,” said Scot, indicating the damage. “It hurts like the shit I took yesterday.”

  Alec tuned out Scot’s gripes. I’ll get all of us out of here. He looked up at the distant sky, trying to figure out a way to raise Scot up without killing him. But any plan of his didn’t matter, because the cloaked figure of the Embracer shot over the well; a dark shadow looking down into the depths imprisoning Alec and his friends.

  Alec’s heart jumped. “Guys—”

  Scot hobbled on one leg. “What’s he doing?”


  The silhouette stood frozen like the three friends, and a cold whisper slithered out the tiny tunnel Alec had crawled in earlier. “Embrace me.”

  Above them, the Embracer slid the lid back over the well, extinguishing all light.

  Kale limped through the woods in the company of the two brothers.

  “I thought you knew where they were,” Fred complained, twitching his trucker hat.

  “It’s right up ahead, I’m sure,” Kale continued. I have no idea. Please, be close. What have I done? Alec, Jeff, and Scot had to be alive. They had to be.

  The two brothers looked at each other.

  “Let’s head back.” Fred stepped away from Kale, heading for the main road.

  “A little longer, Freddie, Christ,” Paul snapped.

  Fred threw his hands up. “Fine, whatever, let’s keep going.” He glanced at the pistol his brother held. “I’d like to see how bad you are with that thing, Paulie.”

  “Stop,” said Paul, irritated.

  “Aw, did I hurt your feelings, little brother?”

  Paul looked at Kale. “Did you hear that?”

  Despite his injured leg, Kale pushed forward faster, fighting throbbing pain. I’m coming, guys. I won’t lose you.

  Pained screams echoed in the distance.

  The ground and walls wobbled and shook as if they were being tossed around in a giant bottle.

  Jeff wished he was back home, wished for a peanut butter sandwich, wished he was watching Trailer Park Boys.

  “What’s going on?” Scot screamed, hysterical. He’d been thrown to the ground by the rumbles, and he splashed in the puddle, crying up for his friends. “My leg!”

  Through the dark, Jeff reached for him. Alec huddled close. The three helpless friends waited as the well shook and trembled around them.

  Peanut butter. Milk. Jelly. Chips.

  Scot grabbed Jeff’s hand. Jeff grabbed Alec’s hand. “We leave as four,” one of them said.

  The shaking continued.