Mostly Dead: Barely Alive, #3

By B.R. Paulson

With time running out for Paul, his brother, and hell, the world, the zombie army moving north to attack isn't helping.

 

Why can't anything work out? He's falling for Heather but she's immune to his charm and the virus. Can he break through her defenses before he loses his mind and kills her?

 

Paul's time is up. He has one last chance to prove he's more than the virus – more than his cravings for meat.

 

Will he be able to convince anyone, if not himself?

 

Get infected and fight the desperation in the third book in this apocalyptic nightmare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Captiva Publishing
• Release date: Jun 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781497702790

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

To be or not to be…

Hamlet, William Shakespeare

To eat or be eaten is the question. William Shakespeare had nothing on me.

Days. I had days to live. Hours, really. And a long ass drive with Dominic riding my tail didn’t sound like the best way to spend that time. I could think of much more satisfying activities involving Heather.

I leaned across the front seat of the freezer truck and shook Brian’s shoulder. Hey, you okay?

He turned toward me, his pupils dilated and his eyelids suspiciously red-rimmed. He was too new to have discoloration. He could have been crying. I didn’t mention the redness and risk embarrassing him. I’d been talking for a good five minutes without any response. He’d stared and stared into the darkness outside the cab. But nothing was out there.

The only thing on my radar for the last forty-five miles was Dominic’s headlights. And the frozen zombies in the box – but I couldn’t see them.

Euphoria slithered through me. I hadn’t been able to let go of the strange freedom that accompanied accepting my upcoming death. Facing the truth that in a day or two I’d die had been altogether uplifting – at the risk of sounding loony. Or like a girl. Could a boy be too sentimental?

Brian lifted his gaze to meet mine. Monotone, he answered, Yeah?

Dominic is being really quiet. He knows I’m up here. What do you think he’s planning? Should we pull over and confront him? If we could find a shoulder off the side of the road or a rest stop minus the walking dead, maybe we could ambush him and save the girls.

He wiped his eyes. And what? Eat or be eaten?

I laughed, a little surprised. I was just thinking that.

Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, Brian nodded. I know.

Right. Adrenaline pumped through me and must have shoved the thought to the back of my mind. He could hear my thoughts under my control. Unfortunately for Brian, he couldn’t forget and I couldn’t make him. Okay, so, what do you think? Would it do any good?

He shrugged, a habit of his that would drive me crazy before too long. I think we’re stupid to think anything with Dominic would do any good.

And I agreed… to an extent. I clenched the steering wheel. Dashboard lights made it next to impossible to see into the inky night. Red radio buttons connected us to Dominic, taunting me. But he needed something we had – desperately.

I avoided Brian’s eyes. I had an ulterior motive. I just didn’t want to admit it. Well, if we don’t ambush him, maybe we could suggest a deal or something. Maybe a trade? I don’t want to have anything to do with him. But he has quite a few girls back there that aren’t infected. He’s keeping them alive for food. Embarrassed, I muttered. I think we should try to save them.

If there was a syndrome that caused a person to believe they were a superhero, I had it. Why else would I run around thinking I could save every girl in trouble? What Dominic did with them shouldn’t bother me, and yet, their life or death situation bugged the hell out of me. Rape didn’t sit well with me. Women trapped in a truck while they waited to be eaten didn’t either.

Since Dominic had made it out of the road trap, I had to assume the girls did, too.

Thankfully, I didn’t need surround sound. Brian’s words didn’t carry far. How? We aren’t superheroes. We’re walking dead. He pressed his hands on his upper thighs. "I don’t know that they’re safer with me than with him."

Eating humans wasn’t on my wish list either. I’d made it so long without eating any and then bam! twice in the same day. Could I guarantee I wouldn’t cave to temptation either?

Brian coughed a rusty laugh. If you’re not sure you can abstain, then I know I won’t be able to. Let’s just ditch Dominic. Those girls will be dead one way or the other. Let’s just get away and do what we need to do.

I considered his suggestion. Damn, I’d left one version of hell for another. I scratched the side of my face, my nerves maintaining some semblance of normal and not quite so sensitive yet. I didn’t need food. At least for a bit.

Another mile or two passed in silence. I’d faced my mortality and found myself to be less morbid than I’d assumed. I wasn’t willing to trade my integrity for a full stomach and end my unsatisfied longings. Yet.

And I had longings. Heather leapt to the front of my mind. She lingered in the back, her image waiting to pop into view at the most inconvenient times. Had she fixed her hair where Brian had chopped the chunk out? Was she okay after being bitten? Hell, was she okay, period? My brother, James, escaped with her. He had more time than I did. More time. To impress her. To love her, if he wanted.

And why wouldn’t he? Who wouldn’t want to be with her?

I loved her. I’d fallen for her.

I just couldn’t have her.

Ever.

My teeth dug deep into the flesh of my inner cheek. The sting stopped tears from pricking my eyes. Odd, but it worked. I’d be eighteen soon. Well, I wouldn’t live long enough for that, but an almost-eighteen-year-old doesn’t need to cry over a girl he’d never get to be with.

No electricity left the lights black on the northbound highway. Our truck sliced through the night, the path lit up ahead and from behind. The fact that Dominic was so close applied pressure between my shoulder blades. We would need gas and sustenance soon. To get away from Dominic, we would need a severe advantage. Or he would need a flat tire. Or to die. Whatever.

I’d give anything to catch up to Heather, see her home, have her see me before I started falling to pieces. Best not to focus on the impossibility of that situation.

Last fall, I sat behind a girl in English I swore I’d be taking to prom. Brian shifted in his seat. He blew hot air on the window and traced a line with his still peach-colored finger. "I copied a sonnet and passed it to her. Told her we were star-crossed lovers. He glanced at me and tilted his head in my direction. Sorry. But you’re making me melancholy with your whiny thoughts about Heather."

Whiny? Dickhead. I’d tried showing him nothing but compassion – okay, not really, but somewhat. Jeesh. Do you really want to go there?

We both shut up. I tried emptying my mind, but found myself running through various scenarios between me and Heather, possibilities if only I weren’t infected or she weren’t immune. Try as hard as I could, I couldn’t bring myself to hate the virus that had changed me. I had met Heather because of it. Dominic had forced me to kidnap her. Oh, yeah, I still hated him.

Plains spread out on either side of the highway. We rolled forward during the darkest part of the night – just before dawn – and in our case the most dangerous. Zombies didn’t need light to find food, just smell. And we’d eat anything that moved. Or didn’t move.

Can you stop thinking? Just stop. My head feels like it’s going to explode. It’s crowded in here enough without adding you to it. Brian’s growl took me aback.

Laughter escaped me before I could reign it in. "Really? You’re trying to tell me you have so much going on in your head, that you can’t handle a few extra thoughts? I rolled my eyes. I find that hard to believe."

Cutting across his reply – if he had one in the works – hell, according to him, his mind was too maxed out – the cell phone rang. He picked up, answering with a subdued tone. Yeah.

Beep. Beep. The radio interrupted my eavesdropping efforts. How flipping annoying. Paul. You there?

I grabbed the handheld mouthpiece and snarled. What do you want, Dominic? He didn’t need to know we’d just been discussing options. He didn’t need to know he was even in the picture.

I want my army back. But since I can’t pull them from those people’s mouths, I want what’s left. Static filled his pause.

The dark road ahead absorbed my glare. Too bad there wasn’t some way to put his ass in front of my truck. I’d gladly run it over, turn him into a zombie pancake. Then I’d climb out and roll him up into a Dominic churro. And feed his ass to the mindless zombies roving the countryside. I’m not stopping. Do you think I’m stupid?

Dominic didn’t reply. I caught the end of Brian’s sentence. …I don’t think that’s important. We’re headed that way. We’ll just pick you up on the way north.

Pick up someone? We already packed an unknown number of male popsicles. No way in hell was I going to add to that. Where were they going to sit? Back with the undead? Sheesh. I pushed my irritation toward Brian, hoping he picked up the pissed off vibes.

Finally, Dominic spoke. I don’t care if you’re stupid or not. You’ll stop eventually. Your rig eats through gas. It’s not diesel. Only mine is. When you need fuel, we’ll talk. The menacing promise was there, like he breathed down the back of my neck.

A sigh escaped me. Of course. Diesel. I was screwed with the freezer unit running and all the weight in the box. I’d run through my gas in no time. I couldn’t turn off the freezer or Dominic could mentally order those damn zombies in the back to eat my ass. Thanks, but no thanks.

If I could get a bite on each of the boys in the back, they’d be my army – not Dickhead’s – and then I could make them eat him. That’d be awesome. As soon as Brian got off the phone, I would tell him my plan. I’d have to find the freezer on/off button to start the thawing process. Biting frozen zombies may or may not spread my saliva.

Brian hung up the phone. He turned to the window. That was James. They’re stuck.

What? Where? I swerved the steering wheel to the right and then corrected. James and Heather couldn’t stop. Getting north was the most important thing. Zombies would be surrounding them, grabbing Heather. Mauling her. Eating her. Killing her. Did you tell them they couldn’t stop? My hell, Brian.

I stomped on the gas pedal, pushing the truck past the fifty miles per hour speed limit. The truck climbed past sixty, sixty-five, up to seventy, abandoning Dominic’s in the dark.

What are you doing? Brian’s eyes grew wide. He stared at the speedometer as it rocketed to seventy-five. Eighty.

We can’t help her sitting on our asses, can we? She needed me. We needed to get away from Dominic. And, thanks again to the bastard, I was going to see her before I died… sooner rather than later.

Had I mentioned how much I needed Heather?

CHAPTER 2

Brian held onto the phone like a magic cord that was going to yank him from the mad-man-driven-truck. James said they were at the rest stop off exit one-thirty-three. We should be there soon. We just passed one-hundred-and-twenty when I was on the phone.

I gritted my teeth. Mile markers would have been easier to gauge. An exit could come out at you before you knew it was there. I’ve been known to pass exits before. Road trips suck. Fleeing seemed to be my new MO. I hated looking like a wimp. Watch for the exit. Did he say what happened? My plan to claim Dominic’s minimal army as my own flipped out the window. I didn’t have time to thaw out the boys, even if I did bite them frozen. They wouldn’t do me any good frozen stiff.

His grunt could have been a laugh or a cough, either way he’d better be careful. We were talking about my brother, after all. I couldn’t understand some of what he said. The signal wasn’t solid.

Dominic’s lights faded behind us. The radio squawked and his voice filled the cab. Trying to escape me, Paul? Was that fear in his voice? I had to be mistaken. The asshole I knew didn’t understand fear, at least as it applied to him. He had a serious control issue.

Just in case, I let him sweat it out for a minute. For good measure, I pushed the truck for more speed.

Palming the CB radio’s mouth piece, I pressed the talk button. I was going to ask if you changed your mind. Kind of slowing up back there, huh? Our truck shuddered at ninety. I dropped back to eighty-five after tossing a glance at Brian. I grimaced. That’d be my luck, getting stranded in Dominic’s path on our way to save Heather and my brother.

I waited for Dominic’s answer. How in the hell was I going to pull this off? Goals included rescuing Heather and James, maybe saving the girls, and getting away from Dominic, all while avoiding rogue zombies eating their way through the countryside. Oh, and for good measure, I should ditch the zombie pops in the box. Success required a better vehicle, or at least one that didn’t freeze the passengers.

If I could switch Dominic trucks we could be on our way. If I could switch Dominic and somehow give him a damaged truck, it would buy some very valuable time in our favor. I gnawed on my lip. I hadn’t eaten in about two hours. The hunger crept up on me, would be there before I knew it. But I could hold off until we reached Sandpoint. I had to. Hmmm. Could zombies have eating disorders?

You know, that’s not a bad idea. Brian turned to me, a serious slant to his mouth. He’d been in my head again. No, actually, I don’t go into your head. You dump your thoughts out there like garbage and I can’t help hearing them. And please stop picturing Heather in a shower stall with a bunch of other girls. She’s supposed to be my sister.

Oh, right. Sick. Should I focus on keeping you out or something? I’ve never done this. Screaming in his head wasn’t my intention.

Brian scrunched up his face, his lips screwed into a smirk. And I have?

Enough. I’ll work on it. I stared into the night, unable to register any present details. You were going to say something wasn’t a bad idea?

Switching Dominic trucks and giving him a gimped out one. He tapped the dash. Heather wouldn’t stop talking about you in the kitchen at her grandma’s and your mom mentioned something about you being a grease monkey. Said you know about cars and stuff. Can you disable the truck?

Heather talked about me? A fierce glow warmed my stony heart. Knowing that she cared about me was one thing. Hearing about her affection from someone else hit me between the ribs. Made her feelings real.

Slowly the glow faded. There was no cure. She was doomed, if she liked the walking dead. I was the walking dead. The thought sobered me. I focused on Brian’s question. Smothering the possibilities of me and Heather would make surviving the next few days much easier.

The truck. Disabled how bad?

Enough to keep him from following us too close. And as if on cue, the pinpoints of Dominic’s headlights reappeared in my side mirror.

I tapped the steering wheel. I’d need a few minutes under the hood. There isn’t a lot I can do with such a short amount of time. We needed Dominic’s truck, too. It’s not like he’s going to just roll over and give us his truck, you know? I lifted the radio piece to my mouth and pretended to push the button. Dominic, Paul here, I’d like to give you a crapped out truck and take yours. What do you say, ole buddy?

Brian rolled his eyes.

I lowered the mouthpiece. Precisely. He’s never going to give us his vehicle. Why would he want my truck? I didn’t want the damn thing.

In unison, Brian and I spoke. The cargo. Our grins matched.

Excited, I pressed the button for real and spoke as calmly as possible. Dominic, there’s a rest stop coming up. I’d be interested in trading trucks.

He took his time answering. I didn’t blame him. He had to be asking himself what I wanted with his truck, besides the girls. Then his next thing would be wondering how he could feed all those frozen boys without the girls in the back of his truck. Then, knowing Dominic, he’d try to figure out a way to keep the girls and ditch the boys. But last and, of course, the most important, he’d work on a way to screw me over and, again, try to get me to rejoin with him. The last would never happen, but I was getting used to the flattery of his attempts.

I curled my lips. I’d give anything to be in his head right then.

He waited longer. Exit one-hundred-and-twenty-seven passed. Answer already.

At exit one-hundred-and-twenty-eight my headlights rebounded off a set of eyes, then another. The gleam in the dark didn’t match a deer’s eye shape. The slouch of shoulders as the large male crouched over something he tore into gave away his species. Red blood coated his chin and dripped down onto a flannel shirt. His partner evaded the glare of my lights. I zoomed by, not slowing.

Brian