Dext of the Dead (Book 4): We Are The Extinction Read online

  Even in a jog, Clint’s eyes boggled at Lilly’s blasé delivery. He told us, “It’s not that simple. Morofsky wants to try something on him. We have to get him out of the pen before anyone else gets hurt. Chavez has men in the pen right now holding them back until we get him moved.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by “holding them back,” but it became clear as we came upon the large, fenced-in area full of the dead. Chavez and a small unit were inside, surrounding the man and beating back the bernies as they advanced. I asked Clint, “Why aren’t they shooting?”

  He looked at me like I had three heads and snapped, “Absolutely not! It took us months to gather those specimens!”

  Murphy stopped short of the commotion at the gate of the pen and shouted to Clint, “Get me gasoline! Do it now! Sally, you and the others go make some noise.”

  Clint broke off towards one of the many vehicles strewn about and yanked a gas can from the rear. He struggled with the weight of it, but eventually caught up to Murphy.

  Murphy snatched it from him and darted inside the gate while I broke off to the rear of the pen, leaving the others in my dust. They caught up soon enough and began helping me rattle the fence and make a bunch of commotion, which caused a fair number of the dead to turn their attention to us.

  Chavez and his men were nearly overwhelmed, but with our little crew distracting the bernies, they were able to get a better handle on the situation.

  The young man was on the ground, bleeding from a wound on his arm, scrambling to back away from the advancing dead. There was a bernie on the ground next to him with its head in pieces, and I could only assume that was the one that bit him. Chavez and his crew all held long lengths of pipe and were using them to push back any that got too close.

  Murphy began dumping the gas on the ground in a large semicircle around them then shouted, “Back up!”

  As Chavez and the others backed away, Murphy lit the gas and it erupted in a huge wall of flame. The blast from the heat stung our faces, and everyone shielded themselves momentarily. The dead ceased their advance and began shuffling along the perimeter of the fiery wall, looking for a way around it. One or two of them caught fire and, while they didn’t seem to be bothered by it, they still backed away from the source. It bought them enough time to drag the injured man to safety and lock the gate back up tightly.

  “What the hell was that?” Chavez snapped at Murphy.

  Murphy told him, “They don’t like fire.”

  Chavez growled angrily as we joined the group, and he said, “We had it under control. Nobody needed your help.”

  Hook chuckled and quipped sarcastically, “Yeah, really looked like you guys had it handled.”

  “Fuck you, old man. You don’t know shit,” Chavez argued.

  Hook shrugged it off and told him, “I know that you should be thanking us instead of actin’ like a dick.”

  Clint was likewise shocked and observed, “That’s odd. They don’t seem to be bothered by being burned, yet they avoided the flames—very interesting. Some sort of instinctive sense of self-preservation, perhaps?”

  Cutty quipped, “Nigga, you can figga out why it works. I’m jus’ happy da shit works.”

  We dropped that conversation and turned our attention to the man who was bitten. He had made it to his feet by this point, but he was shaking with fear and panic. Who wouldn’t be? Dude was a dead man walking. He begged us, “Put me down, man. Please? Anybody? I don’t wanna turn, man!” He held his wound as it slowly oozed blood. The wound itself was nothing life threatening as far as bleeding out or whatever, but he was definitely bitten. I figured the fever would set in soon enough.

  Clint told him sternly, “We can’t. We haven’t seen an actual bite that didn’t result in exsanguination in months. We have to monitor the process, and Morofsky wants to run some tests.”

  The man pleaded with Clint, “Monitor the process? Monitor the fucking process? I’m going to fucking die, and then I’m going to turn! You can’t let that happen, Clint! Please? How long have we known each other, man?”

  Clint frowned deeply. He was in a rough spot. He told him, “I know, Eric. It’s been a long time, but we need this data. I’m sorry this happened to you, but you have a chance to make history here. You don’t have to die in vain.”

  Eric started to tear up and held his ground. “Don’t do this. Just let me go. Please? Gimme a gun, man. I’ll do it myself.”

  Lilly offered, “Better let someone else do it so you can go to heaven, mister.”

  Chavez approached Eric from behind, silently drawing his pistol. I noticed it, but I don’t think anyone else did. Clint and Eric continued to bicker back and forth, but Chavez cut it short for the both of them. He brought the gun down hard, pistol whipping Eric across the back of his head and knocking him unconscious. He stood over the body and told Clint, “Problem solved. Now, do what you gotta do.” He cast a glance over at Cutty and me as if he expected us to intervene.

  Cutty said, “Shoulda shot da man. Ain’t right to prolong dis thing.”

  I agreed. I told them that if they had a willing participant, that was all fine and well, but this man just wanted out. We could have spared him what was coming. It was his choice, not ours.

  Chavez smirked and said, “Yeah, well, you ain’t in charge here, are ya?” He stepped in closer, crowding my personal space, and eyeballed me. “As a matter of fact, why are you here anyway, huh, boy?”

  An unfamiliar voice broke the tension. “Because I said they should be here. And since you’re so keen to tell everyone else who is and isn’t in charge of things around here, why don’t you introduce us, Chavez?”

  Chavez inhaled deeply in an effort to hide his frustration and backed away. “Staff Sergeant Chalmers, this is Dext Baxter and his people.” His delivery was one of disdain.

  My people? My people? I don’t know where he got that shit. I don’t have people of my own. I was just part of the group, our group—part of our family. That bugged me.

  I smirked at Chavez, though, instead of letting him get to me, and taunted him, saying, “Yeah, Chavez. Don’t get your thong in a bunch, buddy.”

  He lost his composure and told me, “Hey, fuck you, pal! You wanna go?”

  What I don’t think he realized was that, yes, I wanted to go. I wanted to fucking go right then and there. I had been waiting for a chance to whip his bitch ass over Lilly. I squared up as the others burst in to protest. Everyone around was clamoring to break up the would-be fight. Chalmers put an end to it. He raised his voice above everyone else, shouting, “Enough! Chavez, you’re dismissed. One more word, and you’re back to squad, hooah?”

  Chavez snatched his arm away from one of the men holding him back and seethed. “Hooah, Staff Sergeant.” He backed away, but never broke eye contact with me.

  Chalmers ordered the rest, “Get this man into the quarantine infirmary. Clint, take Mr. Baxter and his people with you. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Clint led us off into this building and told us to wait here. This one is different from the infirmary where Alyse is staying. This place smells like death. The smell here permeates everything. It makes me uncomfortable. I hope it’s a quick visit.

  Entry 128

  Maybe I’m dead already. Maybe we’re all dead already. Let’s take a minute and really consider that as a possibility. I died at some point and didn’t make it to heaven. This whole thing is my own personal hell, where I’m always afraid and I’m always running for what I think is my life. In reality, I’m running because I’m not allowed to escape this place by death. Instead I’m forced to fight every day, over and over again. I’m forced to meet people and come to care about them, in some cases actually love them, only to have them taken from me in some way. Shit, man, even dying isn’t an escape in this place. You just get back up and keep going.

  The traditional concept of hell is full of demons, and you’re tortured eternally. At least that’s the way it’s always been represented to me growing up. Wel
l, I’m surrounded by flesh-eating, cannibal corpses, and I’m watching my friends die one by one. If that’s not torture, I don’t what is.

  My own personal hell.

  Sometimes they don’t die, though—at least not right away. Sometimes the torture lies in the fact that they’re still alive.

  A door down the hall creaked open as we sat in the shitty waiting area, bringing us all to attention. Neither Chalmers nor Clint had come to see us yet, and the approaching silhouette didn’t resemble either of the two. In fact, the dark figure appeared to have somewhat feminine curves. The fluorescent lighting in the hallway was sketchy and flickered on and off, adding to the creepiness factor with its strobe effect. The figure shuffled towards us clumsily.

  I put a hand on Lilly’s shoulder, nudging her behind Cutty and me, and then gave a nod to Murphy and Hook to be ready for anything. We drew our weapons and leveled them down the hallway. Cutty whispered, “Don’t like it.”

  The shadow moved steadily toward our position, and I could feel my hand sweating against the gun’s grip. I called out to it, “Hello? Say something.”

  Nothing but silence as its feet slapped the tile floor with every uncoordinated step. Hook tried as well, calling out, “Hey. You. Better say somethin’.”

  Nothing.

  As it staggered into the waiting area, the lights flooded its face and we were able to get a good look at it. My heart sank into my gut. It was Kylee. Her face was chalk white, and her eyes were sunken with dark circles around them. She had matted hair and the glazed look to her eyes that all the neos have when they first turn. She stopped in her tracks.

  None of us could do it. We just froze and stared at her with our weapons trained on her.

  “Well? You gonna offer a lady a seat or what?” She winked at us and slowly put her hand on her hip. “I’ve been givin’ blood for days, and I feel like I could pass out.”

  Relief washed over us when she spoke, and Lilly darted around us to give her a huge hug, exclaiming, “Kylee! You’re okay! You’re okay!”

  Kylee made a feeble attempt to hug Lilly back as she nearly fell over from the force of Lilly running into her arms. Murphy told Lilly, “Okay, Lil. Give Kylee a break, hon. She’s been through a lot lately.”

  We stowed our weapons, and Kylee plopped down heavily into one of the waiting chairs. Murphy pulled a small canteen from his hip and offered her a drink, which she readily accepted. The color slowly began to return to her cheeks, but she was looking rough. She asked me, “Where the hell you been?”

  I told her I was about to ask her the same question and took the seat next to her.

  She continued with, “Me? Where have I been? Well, let’s see… I was pulled from decontamination and quarantined in isolation. I was poked and prodded with all manner of medical instruments. I was nearly drained of every drop of blood in my veins multiple times. I was hooked to machines, and I haven’t seen a single friend in days—not to mention the other stuff. So, I’ll ask again… where the hell have you been?”

  I answered her in similar fashion, saying, “We were locked in a shitty dorm room, got in a fight with some guards, Lilly stabbed a guy, Alyse was shot, and we found out that your father is a gigantic asshole.”

  Shocked at the news of Alyse, she asked, “Oh my God, is she okay?”

  Hook answered her, saying, “She’ll live, barely.”

  Kylee reached out to Hook and squeezed his hand supportively before turning to face me. She slapped me solidly on the back of the head and, as my teeth clicked, she snapped, “How could you let that happen?” Then she turned to Cutty and said, “You, too! I told you to keep them safe.”

  Cutty sighed guiltily and looked down at the floor. Lilly broke the tension and told Kylee, “I did my job, Kylee. One of the bad guys had Dext and Hook whooped, but I cut him up reeeeal good.” She smiled, quite proud of herself.

  Kylee just rolled her eyes at us and shook her head in disgust. After a moment of silent reflection, she leaned over and hugged me weakly, pressing her head to my shoulder. I gave her a gentle peck on her forehead and wrapped her up as best I could. It was good to have the group together again. I found myself holding her there, about to spill my guts… about to tell her how scared I was to not have her around and that I missed her… about to tell her… I loved her.

  The front doors swung open, illuminating the entire room with sunlight from outside. The shadows of two men stretched across the room, their faces washed out by the backlighting. The now-familiar voice of Chalmers said, “Ah, good. The gang’s all here.”

  He stepped in along with Clint and sat down across from us, crossing his legs somewhat effeminately and clasping his hands together under his chin. He took a long look at us all, as if to take it in for a moment, before saying, “My, my, what a tangled web we’ve woven, eh?”

  Cutty huffed and answered, “You don’t know da half of it, mista.”

  Chalmers smiled genuinely before motioning to Clint to take a seat. “I assume Clint filled you in on our Colonel Lang situation, yes?”

  We gave nods, but I picked up on Kylee’s discomfort at the implication. I feel bad for her—not that she was very close to her old man, but let’s be honest here. She recently learned her father not only helped to fuck up the entire planet, but also used her as a pawn in the entire thing. That’s some heavy shit to process.

  Chalmers went on to tell us his role in the outbreak and how his conscience got the best of him. He explained the details of his defection from Col. Lang’s command as well as his personal dilemma, blah-blah-blah. I couldn’t help but think, Yeah, Chalmers, we all got problems. Just shut up already! I was on the verge of tuning him out when he got to the important part—the part that involved us directly.

  “Here’s the deal, folks,” he said. “The colonel is going to send everything he’s got at us for this. He’s also threatened my family. So, it looks like we have some decisions to make.”

  Hook spoke up, saying, “I don’t really see what any of this has to do with me and Alyse specifically. There’s really no decision to make here. I’m stayin’ put until Alyse is good to go. Hell, I may not even be leavin’ after that. This place is a paradise compared to the outside.”

  Chalmers shook his head. “No. It’s not safe here—not yet anyway. We have a friend who is sending some reinforcements our way, but if the colonel’s men show up before they get here, we’re in deep shit. We can’t afford to lose Kylee. Morofsky says she’s an important part of fixing this mess. Murphy, you’ll back me up on this, right?”

  We looked to Murphy to shoot it straight, and he did just that. With a nod, he told us all, “They’re right. Kylee, something about you is special, and we have to isolate it. We have to crack the code in order to fix this thing. You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead.”

  Clint blurted out, “Either of you, really. We need both of you safe and sound.”

  I noticed Chalmers shoot Clint a shitty look, as if he had spoken out of turn, just as Hook asked, “Either of who? There’s more people like her? People that can survive a bite?”

  Chalmers paused to choose his words carefully before informing us, “Only one—one other person like her that we know of, which brings me to my next order of business. I think you and I need to talk privately, Kylee. Your people are welcome to wait outside. Morofsky will be along shortly to deal with our bite victim. We’ll reconvene after. Please excuse us?”

  He stared at us wordlessly until Hook made for the door with Lilly. Cutty and I reluctantly followed them.

  This ‘hurry up and wait’ shit is getting old.

  Entry 129

  Chalmers filled us in on his conversation with Kylee a short while after we were urged to leave them alone. I still don’t know how any of this makes sense. Before today, I would have been confident in saying that nothing surprised me anymore, but this little bit of news did.

  Kylee was left in the quarantine infirmary with Clint for reasons that would soon become clear when Chalmers exi
ted alone to meet us out front. He was fidgeting nervously, and it was obvious that there was a lot on his mind. It was written all over him in that, for a relatively young man, his face held a grim and defeated expression. “I’ve just told Kylee that her husband is alive and here at the facility. She’s going with Clint to see him,” he said cautiously.

  With the exception of Murphy, we stood there silently, mouths agape. For Hook, the shock of the news came due to the fact that he didn’t even know Kylee was married in the first place. To the others, there was almost happiness for her. Let’s be honest; every one of us would be elated to find out that we had surviving relatives. Hell, not only was Kylee’s husband alive, he was here! What an amazing reunion that would be for her or any of us. I had my own thoughts on it, but I’ll share that later. Suffice it to say that I was less than convinced about the validity of the statement after Kylee’s story about his funeral service and so on.

  Chalmers went on to explain that Don’s death was faked because of his usefulness as a test subject for the colonel’s plans. What no one expected was the effect of a child in this equation. Chalmers was still baffled at the fact that Kylee could survive being bitten, especially since Don was the only one thus far to have shown this trait. Murphy stepped in at this point and cleared that up.

  “She was carrying his baby. Remember how I told you that back in my days studying the Spark it manifests differently in fetal stages? I’ve been giving that some serious thought. It looks like we may have found the missing link. Morofsky hasn’t been successful in any of the transfusions of fluids from Don into new hosts. However, Kylee carried his child, and suddenly she was showing some of his immunities. The baby was the key. Well, it’s a lead anyway…”

  It made sense. Nature has a way of making things work. I asked the first thing that came to mind. “You plan on breeding them? You seriously plan on having them make babies to test on?”

  Chalmers frowned. “No,” he said bluntly. “I won’t be a part of that. My hands are dirty enough already. I refuse to allow that type of thing to happen to children. I mean, it was bad enough what we did to Subject Sevent—er… Don.”