Z-End (Z-Boat Book 3)

By Suzanne Robb

Ally Lane survived the sinking of the Betty Loo, escaped imprisonment, and averted an all-out war between the nations that would have destroyed the world.

Now she is faced with her greatest challenge. She must cross the country, avoiding hordes of the undead and groups of people willing to do anything to survive.

While she travels with a rag tag group of survivors and new additions, the reality of their situation hits home. There are worse things out there than the zombies, and she can only think of one solution for them to live.

After a close encounter with a maniac convinced the zombies can be tamed and made into a new breed of soldier, Ally implements her plan.
With only a handful of people left from her group, they make the trek to the coast where they find the rusting metal hulks of what used to be grand floating cities. When they board them, they discover they are not alone.

Forced to make a choice between the lives of those she cares about or death, she does the only thing she can.

Ally forges a shaky alliance with a man she doesn’t trust, but it will get her one step closer to her goal. The voyage is filled with peril and danger, but they reach their destination. Midway Island.

Soon after, they discover there is something deadlier than zombies. As their time ticks away, Ally's strength, determination, and will are tested.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted
• Release date: Aug 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781618683342

Book preview

Chapter One

Ally watched the decimated landscape of Washington DC roll by. Burned out shops, metal skeletons of high rises, and of course, the dead. Bodies littered sidewalks, jamming streets and parks, and everywhere else her eye roamed. Among them, hundreds still moved, jaws working, teeth clacking, limbs akimbo as they ambled together, leathery flesh hanging off some, others wearing ragged and darkly stained clothes.

Then there were the dangerous ones.

At the beginning of the outbreak, a Russian Firm tried to find a way to weaponize the infested with a bacteria which had been brought up from the murky depths of the ocean. While their efforts were successful, their attempts at containment were not. The original test subject escaped and a new infestation spread across the globe. Two types of zombie now existed. The first, those who were weak, and got slower as time went by, but had the capacity to work together. The second group was more problematic. Minimal decomposition, increased strength and bone density, and the ability to strategize. A faint tinge of purple in their eyes gave them away, but if they were that close, the odds of survival were low.

In the back of the truck was a single bag of salvaged supplies. Ally had ridden out with Noah and two others. Jane and...she thought the guy might have been Ted, not that it mattered. They'd both died, like they all would.

Ally shook her head, a feeble attempt to rid herself of morbid thoughts. She caught her reflection in the side view mirror and didn’t recognize herself. Dark hair framed a pale face with frown lines and vacant black eyes. Her cheek bones were so prominent she wondered how she hadn’t been mistaken for a skeleton.

A thud brought her attention into focus. What the hell was that?

Noah slowed the truck, but kept them moving. I'm sorry. The damn thing came out of nowhere.

You sure it was a zombie? I don't see a body, Ally said looking out the back window.

I'm pretty sure. I mean we haven't seen a living person around here in months.

A loud pop caused both of them to go rigid. The truck jerked. Noah fought for control as it veered to the left heading for a cement barrier.

Oh shit, shit, shit…

The car scraped against the lane divider and Ally cringed. The noise would attract every zombie within half a mile. She reached for her weapon, checking her load... eleven rounds left. The dash display lit up, alerting them that they had a broken shock absorber.

"That is just what we need," Ally said

Noah exhaled slowly. What do we do? We're only a couple of miles from base.

Ally examined their situation. If they changed the part or made a run for it they'd be dealing with zombies. If they ran for it they would lead who knows how many of the dead back to the one place they'd managed to keep safe so far.

Only one choice.

We can't risk hoofing it. If we lead a group back and there are any of those smart bastards, we're responsible. Can you change it? she asked.

Noah tapped the display, enlarging the image of the damaged area. Probably, but I'll need to use the hand torch and find a few scraps of metal. Won't be perfect, but we'll get home.

Ally nodded. Get to it, then. We don't have time to waste. Put your gear on. I'll keep watch and take out as many as I can. If we get it fixed we take the long way home, if not we run for cover. I'm not leading these things back to base.

The hiss of the torch caught her attention. Slipping on a pair of night vision goggles, she cursed the clogged roads. Getting anywhere took twice as long because of the wrecks they had to avoid. A zombie meandered its way toward her. She unsheathed her knife and when it was within striking distance, she plunged it deep in the thing's ear. It hit the ground with a thud and three more made their way toward her.

They formed an attack pattern, coming in on the left and right. There was no way to tell if they were of the traditional sort or one of the bastards as she liked to call the hard-headed ones. She brought up her crossbow and shoved one of the makeshift metal darts into it. Taking a breath, she squeezed the trigger and the zombie to her left fell. The one on the right tilted its head, and in that moment she hustled to it and jammed the knife into a slushy eye socket.

Bony fingers grabbed at her ankles. Shit, she hissed, kicking the hand away. The fingers turned to bits of bone and dust underneath her boot. In seconds, the third ghoul was on her, wrapping cold, decayed arms around her. She pulled at the flesh, and it sloughed away from the bone in sticky sheets. Teeth clacked by her ear and she shoved her elbow backward, slamming it into a sturdy ribcage.

Damn, you're a real bastard aren’t you?

The arms tightened around her. Cool zombie flesh grazed her cheek. Stomping on the foot then pulling forward, she unbalanced them enough to push back and knock them together to the ground. She felt the dead embrace loosen and rolled out of it. Pulling another knife from its sheath, she spun around and slashed the thing's neck. Muscles and sinew snapped and a thick green substance oozed out.

Ally, I got one creeping up on my six, Noah called.

Take care of it, I'm busy, she said getting to her feet.

Behind her she heard a groan and stole a second to see how many were behind her. She glimpsed a one-handed zombie, and knew she could handle it. A solid grip pulled her forward and she twisted her head with barely a millimeter to spare as teeth grazed her throat. She kicked out and fell onto the one-armed menace. Grinding her elbow into its skull, she felt it give way, her arm soaked in tepid brain matter.

She exhaled, tired from the struggle, worn out from the trip, and weary of the world she was forced to live in. Part of her wanted to give up, but people depended on her. Noah screamed and she focused on the bastard in front of her. She caught sight of the one she'd killed with the crossbow. Using all her strength she tackled her new friend, both of them tumbling to the ground. It reached up and grabbed her right arm in an iron grip. She smiled and brought her hand down, the metal arrow glinting before it sunk into a purple-tinted eye.

She staggered to her feet in time to watch Noah take down a zombie with his Ruger. Dammit, that's going to attract attention.

Well, let's get the hell out of here, then.

The two hustled into the truck in time to see dozens of zombies appear from the shadows. Noah put the truck in gear and started on the long way back to make sure they weren't followed.

Two hours later, they parked near a pit. Inside were the remains of Rachel, Rogers, and hundreds of others she'd met and worked with when she joined ranks with the mercenaries five months before. A few of the bodies were half out, some in a nearby field. The zombies were not choosy about what they ate, and when live flesh wasn't available they turned to the dead.

Noah stopped the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. Ally watched him, his precise movements. Together they exited and went to the small entrance of the building once known as The Pentagon. Inside they hustled down a corridor until they came to a door with several gouges on it. Ally tapped a spot on the wall next to the frame and a small section trembled and moved, revealing a cracked touchscreen.

God, this thing takes longer each time, Noah said.

Ally glared at him. Noise of any kind was not a good idea topside. If those dead things caught wind of them, it would take less than a minute for a swarm to develop. She keyed in the code and a section of the wall slid sideways. She pushed Noah onto the ladder, keeping an eye out while he climbed down. Satisfied they were in the clear, she entered the code again to shut the hatch, slipping in without a second to spare.

This is it? Victor tossed the bag back to her.

Ally peeled off thick gloves, counting to ten. Victor Aubin had been a thorn in her side since she joined the patriotic wannabes. He didn't take kindly to her killing their former leader, despite the fact he wanted to bomb half the planet. Bringing back Joseph Erdman, their presidential hopeful, a jabbering idiot at times, hadn't gained her any points, either.

Yes, that's it. And next time you can go. When was the last time you volunteered, by the way?

Noah grabbed the bag. Hey, let's calm down. We all know how this dance ends.

Ally stood her ground, refusing to let trash like Victor make her feel bad. He tried to use his height to intimidate her, and when that failed, he bored into her with black eyes. With a mental sigh, she waited.

This isn't over, Lane. We're going to have a discussion, you and I.

Ally smirked as he walked away. She looked forward to that discussion. With no imminent threat, she went to the central area to check on the survivors. Their numbers had dwindled from seven to four thousand. The majority of their losses were the elderly, those who'd been exposed to the bacteria prior to rescue, and several cases of starvation.

Ben Rutherford leaned against the entryway. She knew his casual stance was an act. Out in the field, she'd seen him move his six-foot-three frame with both speed and agility. No one got within ten feet without him allowing it.

Heard the scavenge didn't yield much.

She stopped next to him. Let me guess, Victor told you?

Does it matter? We have a pathetic stash of ammunition and only enough food for a few days.

Ally sighed. How are they doing? She motioned to the crowd with her chin.

Restless, scared, hungry…how do you think?

The room stank of sweat and morning breath, of too many people forced to live in an enclosed area. Coughs echoed every now and then, and she knew it was a matter of time before another illness rampaged through their numbers.

I think I need a vacation.

Ben chuckled. Well, how about settling for your number one fan. Ben whistled.

A small dirty face framed by dirty blond locks looked up at her, and the smile almost made her forget her day. Ally, you're back.

Thin legs moved a gangly body from a group of boys playing some variation of soccer she never quite understood. She smiled, one of her real ones for the boy, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Sean, of course I'm back. I promised, didn't I?

The head bobbed up and down and she ruffled the greasy strands. With obvious reluctance the boy let his arms fall to his side.

How did it go?

Not great, kiddo.

Time to move?

Ally stared at the young face in front of her. Sean's parents died in the initial outbreak. He'd survived on his own until four months ago. Ally'd found him huddled in an abandoned warehouse with half a dozen others. They were filthy, starving, and sick. Ally and her team brought them back for treatment, but Sean was the only one who'd survived. Only Noah knew about the extra food and medication she slipped the boy. One look at his brown eyes, broad shoulders yet to fill out, and puppy dog eyes and she thought of a young Marcus.

If life were fair. If life actually went her way on occasion, she'd be married right now. She might even be thinking about kids. Instead, the love of her life lay dead among a heap of zombies, and she was struggling to stay sane. The stress of keeping a few thousand others alive was an added bonus.

Ally?

She shrugged off her morose mood. It's been time to move for a while. No one wants to admit it and leave the safety of this place.

Then we'll go, and they can starve to death.

Ally nodded. Maybe, but for now you stay with your friends. I need to check on the radio.

I'll keep an eye on him, Ben offered.

Thanks.

The radio room, once ground zero for all things evil when Richards was in charge, now was home to their last connection to the world. After the satellites went offline, communication stalled until a few forward-thinking folks resurrected an antiquated method of contacting others: the short wave radio.

Over the last few months they'd received messages from over thirteen groups within a 1,000 mile radius, and they knew of other survivors. Ally wrote down everything. Locations, estimates of numbers, supplies, and zombie sightings.

She rolled the map out in front of her. Seven red exes indicated outposts that had not checked in for over three weeks. Two spots had black exes, meaning they were in transit to a safer location and would reconnect when possible. Green circles around Chicago, Montreal, San Francisco, and Phoenix were all that remained in contact in North America.

The chair creaked under her when she sat. Larry stirred, but didn't wake. Black greasy hair spilled over his shoulders, and his bone-white face was pockmarked from some infection he'd had as a kid. She took the microphone out of his hand and looked over his notes. Nothing. No contact with those on the move. Glancing at the clock, she debated what to say to Neal from Chicago and Susan from New York. Each week their conversations grew shorter to limit the amount of bad news shared.

Ally flipped the switch, and static filled the room. Larry fell out of his chair, groggy eyes barely open.

Shit, I fell asleep, sorry.

No worries, I don't think you were out long. Go get some sack time. I got this, Ally said at the sound of the first disembodied voice.

This is Neal, checking in at twenty one hundred hours. Over.

Hey, it's Susan.

Ally took a moment to enjoy hearing the sound of their voices. And I make three. Hey, guys.

Chapter Two

"I heard from Jerry in Phoenix, and he said the zombies there can barely walk. Only those hard to kill bastards are left," Neal said.

"Yeah, well here in good 'ol New York City we got a goddamn infestation. We haven't been able to go out for supplies in a month. People are dropping left and right from hunger or dehydration. I got parents begging me to save their kids and jerkoffs stealing from the weak," Susan said.

Ally tapped the pen on the table in front of her. What are your numbers?

"Sixteen losses, one gain, total population in Chicago is one thousand three hundred eighty-two."

"Twenty-eight losses, zero gains, total population for New York is six hundred seventy-one."

Ally wrote the numbers down. She opened her mouth to ask about Phoenix.

"I hate to say this, but over half of our losses were suicides," Neal said in a low voice.

"Shit, most of ours were, too. Officially, I'm telling people it's from botched supply runs. I don't think they believe me."

Ally clicked on the base of the microphone. Susan, you keep doing what you're doing. This is a fucked up situation, no one knows how to handle it.

Neal coughed. "Thanks, Ally, but that doesn't make this any easier. Do you have a plan yet? I need to go back to them with some good news for a change. Why can't we head down there? Must be nice to have a government installation keeping you safe at night."

Ally shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Everyone wanted her to fix things, make it better, safer, find food, keep them alive. Never mind each day was a struggle for her. That each night she dreamed of Marcus, her dead fiancé. That the only reason she was able to go on so many scavenging missions was because she had a stash of drugs to calm her ass down.

She unclenched her fist. I understand, Neal, and I'm working on it. But a trip that long takes planning, supplies, and to be honest it's time for us to move as well. I did speak with a guy last week who had some information but I lost the signal. I'm going to try and catch him tonight. I'll fill you guys in next week. Until then, stay alert.

Ally heard them sign off. She pushed the microphone away and watched the screen in front of her. Nothing had popped up on it for almost four months. They'd rationed where they directed power, the radio winning out since satellites were nothing but space trash without guiding hands to correct their courses.

Ally, how'd it go?

She leaned the chair backward and titled her head. Kevin Walsh stood there, tall and handsome. He didn’t fit in. Six feet tall with a fair complexion and blue eyes, he was the epitome of health...now. When they'd first found him she didn’t think he'd make it through the night, he was so malnourished. He was one of the many rescues from the salvage runs. One of the few who wanted to pull his weight. The first to volunteer for any mission, and the first to be turned down because of his inexperience. She smiled while making a gun shape with her fingers and holding it to her temple.

That good? He smiled and took the seat next to her.

Those numbers are discouraging. New York has lost over sixty percent of its population and…

Ally grabbed the notepad and pointed to the map. We have other problems. We've lost contact with over half of the surviving groups out there. Neal didn't report about San Francisco, so either he had nothing from them, or…

Or he forgot. Morale is low, Ally. People are more concerned with their own safety. And this daisy chain of communication makes things a lot harder. Kevin pushed the map away as he leaned back in the chair. I just wish we had more range.

Ally stretched while she stood. She took her time walking to the coffee machine. Thoughts swirled in her head, most of them nonsense. She tossed some of the brown powder in a mug and waited for it to hydrate. The military-grade liquid was potent enough to fuel a truck, but for now she would use it to stay awake and keep the demons at bay.

Returning to the table she saw Kevin wipe a grim expression from his face. His halfhearted attempt at a smile would have been appreciated by most of the women down the hall, but Ally ignored it. Getting attached to people was a waste of time and energy. Next week she might be tossing his body in the pit or ramming something through his head.

Ally, there's something else. I heard the conversation…the rise in suicides. How many have we had? Our population is much larger, and therefore…

With a sigh she sat and looked at the blank screen. In the last month we've confirmed nineteen. The number is rising. People are improvising.

Kevin blew out a breath. That's why you took away the guns from the guards.

Ally laughed. Hardly, the damn things weren't even loaded. We've got enough ammunition to maybe fill four weapons. Noah and I made the call to take them away based on the out-of-sight out-of-mind theory. That's not working.

Kevin reached toward her, and then pulled his hand back. You know if you ever want to talk, or take a break, I can help. You can trust me.

The sincerity in his voice made her sad and angry at the same time. She nodded, not knowing what else to do. When was the last time she'd trusted someone? Didn't all of her friends die? Kevin was a good guy. She didn't want anything to happen to him. That meant keeping her distance. She'd already screwed up by letting Sean get close, but he didn't press her to talk about anything.

Thanks, Kev. Why don't you go and make sure people are eating or doing whatever it is they do. See if Ben needs any help. I'm going to clock some more hours on the radio, try and make contact with someone.

He stood with a sad smile and left. She shook off the feeling of guilt. It was better this way, because everyone she cared about died. She was doing him a service.

Grabbing the microphone, she pressed the XMIT.

This is Ally Lane out of Washington, DC. Does anyone copy? I repeat, this is Washington, DC. Does anyone copy?

She relaxed her hand and listened to the hiss of static fill the room. Eyeing the coffee warily, she prepared for a long night.

* * *

"This is Daniel, anyone there?"

Ally bolted up and grabbed the mic. Daniel, I copy, this is DC. What is your location?

Almost a full minute passed and Ally began to worry that she'd imagined the voice.

"Hey, DC. I'm in Raleigh, now. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I had to move pretty fast."

Ally grabbed her notepad, knocking her coffee cup over in the process. Last week when she spoke with the mysterious man he'd offered a glimmer of hope; at least the others would see it that way.

Glad to hear you made it. Are you safe now? How many people are with you?

"I guess so…crap, hold on. Daniel went silent. Sorry, the people I'm with are trying to figure out how to set up our defenses. I keep trying to explain it's pointless. We're in a damn boat."

Ally stiffened. Steer clear of the water. Trust me. It's bad for your health. What is your supply status?

"I heard that water rumor, but at the moment the land is crawling with zombies."

Ally flattened out the paper she was writing on. Daniel talked a lot, but didn't actually give up much information. She didn't know if he was rattled by his situation or being evasive on purpose.

How many people are in your group? Do you have a plan? Last week you mentioned something about a place we could go. Ally was torn, part of her wanted to have options since they'd exhausted their current resources, but she was wary of trusting strangers.

"When things calm down, we hope to head inland, make a supply run, find a vehicle and head west. The problem doesn't seem to be as bad out there."

Ally waited a moment to respond. More and more questions popped into her head. How did Daniel know these things? How could he act so casual about everything he needed to do? Why did he refuse to say how many survivors were with him? Who else was he talking to?

I don't think it's going to be that simple. There are a lot of things to…

"Listen, DC, I don't know you other than your location, which you might be lying about. You have yet to tell me about your numbers or plans. If you want me to share information, you need to offer some in return. Right now I need to go and help out my people. I'll contact you in a few days."

Ally squeezed the button, ready to rip him a new one when she realized he was right. She'd been treating him like the enemy, interrogating him. Christ, how could she have been so stupid?

Smooth, Ally. You did really well there. You better hope he gets in touch or I'm going to have fun for the first time since the world went to hell.

She turned to see the gaunt face of Joseph Erdman. The man who would have been president if he hadn't have been backed by a bunch of crazies looking for nuclear weapons to take out the countries with power, and of course there was that irritating zombie issue.

Joseph, I have no idea what your problem is. I'd swear you're crazy, but given the circumstances, I think everyone is entitled to act a bit nuts right now.

He walked over to the coffee machine, taking a double serving. Rations didn't apply to him she guessed, and no one was about to say anything. The suit he wore, at one time well fitted, was now covered in grime, worn through at the elbows, and he stank. His dark hair had grown over the collar of his jacket and in the front it fell into his eyes. His neat goatee now resembled a tangle of hair and bits of things she'd rather not think about. This was the man that the people of America were supposed to look up to.

"My problem is that I went from being a respected Firm leader to…to…nothing. A specter that wanders the halls. I hear the whispers; I know what you think. You deserve to live like this. I don't."

Ally glanced at the clock. She made a note reminding herself to be there each night until Daniel contacted them again. She got to her feet and walked toward Joseph.

No one deserves to live like this, not even an arrogant prick like you. Damn. For a while there I thought you might turn out to be an okay guy, but you're just an asshole. What happened to you?

She brushed by him not waiting for a response. Checking on Sean was more important than dealing with this idiot.

Chapter Three

The group in front of her was ranked in order from best to worst. Able-bodied men and women with enough strength to hold a weapon. Noah and Ben were teaching them how