DEAD: Vignettes (Vol. II) DEAD: Special Edition

By TW Brown

This is a compilation of the second three books in the DEAD series: DEAD: Winter, DEAD: Siege & Survival, and DEAD: Confrontation. Each book also contains additional material requested by YOU...the readers! This special edition allows you to sink into a DEAD world with your favorite people and not be "distracted" by those long absences as other stories intrude and get in the way.

This special edition allows you to sink into a DEAD world with your favorite people and not be "distracted" by those long absences as other stories intrude and get in the way. A special edition has been released for all three of the story lines that exist in the DEAD books--DEAD: Vignettes (Volume II), DEAD: Perspectives (Volume II), DEAD: The Geeks (Volume II).

• Language: English
• Publisher: May December Publications
• Release date: Jan 13, 2015

Book preview

The world of the DEAD expands with:

(Coming in the spring of 2015)

To see YOUR town die in the DEAD world, email TW Brown at [e-mail]

Other Titles by TW Brown

The DEAD Series:

DEAD: The Ugly Beginning – book 1

DEAD: Revelations – book 2

DEAD: Fortunes & Failures – book 3

DEAD: Winter - book 4

DEAD: Siege & Survival – book 5

DEAD: Confrontation – book 6

DEAD: Reborn – book 7

DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn – book 8

DEAD: Spring – book 9

DEAD: Reclamation – book 10

DEAD Special Edition

DEAD: Perspectives (Vol. 1 & 2)

DEAD: Vignettes (Vol. 1 & 2)

DEAD: The Geeks (Vol. 1 & 2)

DEAD: Compendium (Vol. 1 & 2)

Zomblog

Zomblog

Zomblog II

Zomblog: The Final Entry

Zomblog: Snoe

Zomblog: Snoe’s War

Zomblog: Snoe’s Journey

Miscellaneous

Gruesomely Grimm Zombie Tales Vol. I

That Ghoul Ava: Her First Adventures

That Ghoul Ava and The Queen of the Zombies

That Ghoul Ava Kicks Some Faerie A**

Next, on a very special That Ghoul Ava

Dakota

The Exoterrestrials

DEAD: Vignettes (Vol. II)

Special Edition*

TW Brown

*The Vignettes from Books 4-6 of the DEAD Series

DEAD: Vignettes (Vol. II)

Special Edition

©2015 May December Publications LLC

Smashwords Edition

The split-tree logo is a registered trademark of May December Publications LLC.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or May December Publications LLC.

Printed in the U.S.A.

For Jason

A moment with TW Brown…

Welcome to the second volume of DEAD Special Editions. Funny, but a lot has happened along the way and little did I know that there would be an entirely new audience that would jump in and find this series. Seriously, when I came up with the idea, I saw it like when musicians put out a Greatest Hits collection and add in a bonus track. I separated the three different story lines (Geeks, Vignettes, and Steve—which is now under the Special Edition banner of Perspectives) and wrote some bonus material.

What I found out was that there were a lot of people who REALLY wanted to like the DEAD series. However, they just did not like all the jumping from story to story. This approach allowed them to come in and stick with something a bit more concrete.

I won’t bore you with a bunch of mundane drivel, but I think you will find a world full of very real characters. You will not find any super heroes or military masters of war and weaponry. Instead, you will find bits of yourself…perhaps somebody you know. I think that is what makes this series special. I hope you enjoy it.

October 2014

TW Brown

Table of Contents

Vignettes XIX

Vignettes XX

Vignettes XXI

Vignettes XXII

Vignettes XXIII

Vignettes XXIV

Vignettes XXV

Vignettes XXVI

Vignettes XXVII

Vignettes XXVIII

Vignettes XXIX

Vignettes XXX

Vignettes XXXI

Vignettes XXXII

Vignettes XXXIII

Vignettes XXXIV

Vignettes XXXV

Vignettes XXXVI

Sneak Peek of

DEAD: Snapshot – Portland, Oregon

1

Vignettes XIX

Cairo, Egypt—Aaheru stepped out into the chilled morning air and breathed deep. He had become accustomed to the smell of the walking dead. In the distance, the iconic pyramids loomed. Those were the signs of the old Egypt. Those were the jewels of Cairo, a truly dead city which was ironic considering that, as far as he knew, the only life resided behind the walls of Qarafa, el-Arafa: The City of the Dead.

In this place, Aaheru was king, pharaoh, and God. He had led his followers here and overwhelmed the rabble that had lived for years in their primitive tribal societies amongst the tombs and shrines to the dead. Of course his name hadn’t always been Aaheru—a name which meant Chief of Terrors. He had claimed it after shooting his commanding officer in the face and taking control of the unit he had been assigned as a soldier of Egypt. There were none remaining who knew his given name, and that was just as well because that man was dead; more so than the creature chained by the neck to a post outside the entrance to his grand tent.

The abomination stood silent and still, its white-filmed eyes staring at him with no emotion. Its mouth hung open, but not even a drop of saliva dripped from it. The creature had not fed in weeks, yet it remained as it had the day of its first death; a slight rip on one arm the origin of its transformation from living to dead to undead. The cruel desert heat had sapped any hint of moisture from the zombie—the Western word used to describe the dead who now walked the Earth—yet it remained.

My Lord, a voice said in a whisper, I am here to do your bidding and please you in any way you require.

Aaheru glanced down to see the young, dark haired beauty kneeling before him. He’d told Ahi to send him a new girl to replace his previous consort; foolish thing, she’d not heeded his warnings about the gate and ventured too close. The hand that snagged her scarf and pulled her to that grasping wall of arms that writhed, more deadly than any asp, had held her fast. She was ripped apart in moments, pieces of her pulled through the bars. At least she would not join their ranks…there was not enough remaining to rise and walk.

What is your name, girl?

Ahmes.

Child of the Moon? Aaheru thought. How appropriate. Have Ahi dress you in something more fitting. He looked at the faded rags the girl currently wore and made a note to have the next group that went out for supplies bring back clothes. Food and water had been such a priority that he’d forgotten that his people would need clothing.

The scrawny figure scooted away and vanished to do as she’d been told, leaving Aaheru alone to consider his plan for the coming days. As much as he had a fondness for Cairo, he would need to lead his people out of the city at some point. They could strike out for Alexandria. From there, they would find a ship and sail someplace more hospitable. His ancient ancestors might have been able to carve out an existence on the banks of the Nile; he would not be following in their footsteps.

***

Juan stepped off the small boat. A few deaders had been stumbling along the shore despite the fact that they’d shut off the motor and rowed from a few hundred yards out. A misty almost-fog swirled across the surface of the dark waters of the Willamette, adding to the muffled surrealism of the scene.

Horror movie shit, Keith Thomas, whispered.

Don’t get all spooked by a little weather, Thad scoffed.

It ain’t the weather that wants to take a bite out of our asses, Keith grumbled.

Everybody shut up! Juan snapped. Last time we came over, JoJo said he heard voices.

Then why didn’t you guys check it out? Keith grumbled, knowing full well the reason why.

The Bently guy was bleeding out, and we were trying to get him back to the island. Juan could still see that whole scene in his mind’s eye.

Morris Bently hadn’t fallen victim to a zombie or a raider, but rather simple clumsiness. They had been searching a house for supplies, and he’d found what amounted to a jackpot in these days: a stocked medicine cabinet belonging to either a very sick person, or one of the world’s biggest hypochondriacs. He’d run down the stairs with his hands full of pill bottles and missed the last step. The break in his leg where the bone jutted through the skin was bad, the gash opened on his forehead from where he’d smacked the corner of an end table turned out to be just as bad. Juan had always heard the saying, Nothing bleeds like a head wound.

They’d gotten him back across the river. Mackenzie had done all she could, but between the blood loss and an infection in the compound fracture, the man had died in a feverish delirium.

JoJo had insisted that he’d heard voices from someplace nearby as they were hustling the man to the boat. So far, in seven trips across, there had not been a single sign of anybody alive in the area they were currently scouring for food and supplies. There were deaders…lots and lots of deaders.

Twice they’d had to abort their trip due to an overwhelming number of the cursed things wandering the shores. Juan couldn’t make any sense of it. Sometimes they came across and only encountered a few; at other times, they were greeted by mobs of varying size. Fortunately, today was one of those days where only a few of the things were present.

I want to get at least three houses swept, Juan announced. He didn’t know when it had happened, but at some point he had become the leader of their little group on Sauvie Island.

When Thad, Keith, and JoJo had shown up, it was only Juan, Mackenzie, and Mackenzie’s mom, Margaret. Now, they had taken in a few small groups and the numbers were over twenty men, women, and children. He only knew the names of a few, but Mackenzie had everybody down pat. Hell, he thought, she probably knows their birthdays. Yet, lately, anytime there was a decision to be made, folks were asking him what he wanted them to do.

Juan, where should we stack the firewood?

Juan, can we build a church?

Juan, should we have patrols walking the fence at night?

If these people knew where he’d been when all this deader crap started—homeless, and living in the back of his car—or that he had a long and documented history of being in trouble with the police for everything from drugs, to that brief stint where he thought he was going to be a pimp…they wouldn’t be asking him a damn thing.

Yo, Juan! Thad elbowed the larger man in the ribs. You want to go check that out or not?

Juan blinked his eyes against the cold and brought his focus back to the situation at hand. He gave Thad a questioning look.

You didn’t hear that? Thad huffed. That wasn’t a zombie; I’d be willing to bet on it.

Not unless they’ve learned to make a new sound, Keith added. That was a giggle, no doubt about it.

Juan listened. Other than the nearby deaders that they would have to deal with in a few minutes, he didn’t hear anyth—

A giggle.

In the low-lying mist of the morning, it was almost impossible to tell which way the sound came from, but he’d definitely heard it. He pulled the long blade from over his shoulder and started towards the crumbling walkway that led from the water’s edge to the heavily overgrown park that they would have to cross to reach the little neighborhood they were currently scavenging.

You two take those few out, Juan nodded to the approaching zombies, and I will see if I can narrow down where that sound is coming from.

You think it is a good idea to split up? Keith asked.

We ain’t splitting up, Juan whispered. I’m just going to the edge of the park. I won’t even cross the street until you two catch up, but if whoever is making that noise hears you take down the deaders, they might get spooked and run. Hopefully, I can figure out which way they run.

What makes you think they’d run? Thad asked.

Juan stopped and turned back to face the pair. Because that’s what I would do if a gang of three guys looking like us got close.

Thad seemed to consider the comment for a second, then shrugged and turned to deal with the zombie tugging on his jacket. Keith had already taken his five-pound sledge to one and was facing off with the next.

Juan waded through the waist-high grass, careful to stay on the three foot wide or so path they’d cleared. He knew what sorts of things could lurk unseen in the weeds. He reached the sidewalk and smelled it immediately: smoke. More importantly, somebody was cooking. It had a hint of onions and something spicy.

His eyes scanned the row of houses facing him. A dozen had big black X’s painted on the fronts. Those had been stripped of anything useful. It wasn’t a very sophisticated system, but it worked for their purposes. He blinked a few times to be certain, but he was sure he’d found the source of the smoke, and perhaps the giggling. It was tough to make out against the gray of the morning, but a wisp of smoke was rising from beyond the houses further back in to the neighborhood.

Anything? Thad asked as the two men caught up with him at the park’s edge; Juan pointed.

We going in? Keith sounded like he’d rather not.

Be foolish not to, Thad replied. Juan didn’t say a word; he simply started across the street.

They had to navigate through three yards—front and back—as they made as much of a beeline as possible to the source of the smoke. When they reached the last yard, Juan pulled himself up on the fence and took a look.

Tight like a tigah, he hissed appreciatively.

***

Chad brought the axe down with all the strength he had. The piece of wood split with a satisfying crack. The sounds of others involved in the daily chores—washing clothes, splitting wood, building barricades—filled his ears. Amongst it, there was another sound.

Children playing…laughing…yelling.

It had taken a few weeks for everybody to stop talking in whispers for fear of what it might bring. Slowly, things had become almost normal. Out in the middle of nowhere, Yosemite Village had catered to tourists from around the world who came to gawk at the park’s wonders. Now it was the site of another wonder: civilization.

The group was settling in nicely. The few hotels and restaurants had yielded a bounty of food, and the surrounding streams and rivers had taken any concerns about water and washed them away.

The first days had been busy. The place hadn’t been entirely empty. They had gone room-to-room in the hotels, and it hadn’t gone off without a couple of casualties. Worse, a small mob had come in the night just a few days ago and found their way inside an RV that an older couple lived in and refused to vacate in exchange for one of the rooms in the hotel that everybody else was now calling home.

The morning had come, and most everybody had been jolted awake by the screams of Jerri Sue Baker, the young woman unfortunate enough to be an early riser who had to start each day with yoga and a jog. She’d had very little direct contact with the undead in the months since they had risen and wiped out most of humanity. Jerri had been on a solo hike of the Pacific Crest Trail and only come down because she’d run out of—of all things—feminine hygiene products. That is also why she froze at the sight of the elderly couple sitting up with fresh rips that allowed their insides to spill on the ground in steaming piles of gore. She went to the ground under five of the undead, her scream ending abruptly when her throat was ripped out.

Now, things were settling back down. Also, they had regular patrols at night to keep an eye out for the possible lone straggler or mob that might come their way. One of the better finds had been the sporting goods store. Not much bigger than a mini-mart, the place had yielded a plethora of fishing equipment…along with a variety of guns and ammo.

Dad! Ronni yelled from the window on the third floor of the hotel they now called home.

Yeah? Chad shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun reflecting off the several inches of snow that coated the roofs of the buildings.

A bunch of people are going down to the falls to wash clothes, can I bring our stuff?

Chad wasn’t stupid. That meant the Simmons boy was going. Marty Simmons was nineteen, tall, and had that scrawny, emo look that young girls seemed to go for from what Chad had observed from his daughter and the girls she hung out with.

Fine, Chad consented, but don’t forget the sheets and towels.

Whatever, Ronni groaned. They’d had the discussion a few times. She seemed to think that since the hotel had closets full of linens and towels, they didn’t need to worry about actually washing the ones they used.

She still didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation they faced. To her, the world was simply suffering a temporary inconvenience. She either didn’t fully realize, or, more likely, didn’t want to realize just how serious things had become in the past few months.

Bearing in mind all she had seen in just the past several weeks, he thought that maybe she was simply refusing to accept things as they were. That would mean she would have to accept the death of her mother…as well as a few of her friends. He knew she would have to come to grips sooner or later, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to make her do so right this moment. Considering the fact that this would be her new reality, he didn’t see the harm in letting her live in a state of denial for a few more weeks.

***

CONUSHUB: NODE 3 OFFLINE; NODE 2 OFFLINE, NODE 1 NOT RESPONDING.

NODE 5, LINK SEVERED-SHUTDOWN INITIATED.

NODE 4 STILL ACTIVE>PING.

***

Subject three showing no change, Lena Borlavich said as she jotted notes on her clipboard. She stared in at the creature encased in the ten foot square room. The inch-thick glass was smeared with brownish fluid. Dried blood wasn’t nearly as red in real life as it was in the movies.

Did she eat it? Darlene Mensa asked through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich.

Nope. Lena pushed the button that activated the sprinkler inside the observation chamber. Apparently zombies don’t like chicken.

I wish you wouldn’t call them that, Darlene groaned.

What would you have me call them, Doctor Mensa?

Subjects…test cases…

"There is no denying that these subjects were living, we infected them with a fluid sample from a contaminated test case, which lead to their eventual death. In less than fifteen minutes, the dead subject opened its eyes," Lena said, taking pains to emphasize Darlene Mensa’s preferred names for the dead who were now standing inside observation chambers waiting for the chance to bite into a living person and eat them much like Darlene was currently doing to the sandwich in her hand.

But calling them zombies is so…

B-movie? Lena offered.

Are we having the zombie discussion again? Samantha Black, the third scientist in their group asked as she stepped out of the decontamination chamber.

Nice of you to join us, Darlene quipped.

Dock my pay, Samantha said with a dismissive wave. She walked over to the chamber Lena still stood at with her clipboard in hand. No luck with the chicken?

It seemed to follow it with its eyes for a few minutes, Lena replied. But it didn’t make any attempt to catch the chicken.

So we can cross that off the list. Samantha plucked one of the peanut butter sandwiches off of Darlene’s plate. I see you left the chicken in there during the wash down.

Darlene was in the garden and I won’t open those chambers without one of you present.

All three women shuddered at the memory of how close they’d come to losing Darlene. You could be as careful as you wanted, but accidents happen…people trip, slip, and stumble.

And what about Fido? Samantha asked.

All three women moved to the next chamber and peeked in. The dark figure huddled in the corner did not seem to notice. Lena tapped the glass and the large head of the Rottweiler lifted. The white filmed eyes stood out in stark contrast. Only a few feet away, a chicken lay…untouched.

Wanna toss in another kitten? Samantha asked with far too much enthusiasm.

You are one sick individual? Darlene scowled, tossing the uneaten remains of her sandwich in a nearby garbage can.

You say individual…but what you really mean is bitch, Samantha said with a smirk. Anyways, I actually came with some news; the computer just kicked out a message. It seems that we are the only node still active.

When did number five go down? Darlene asked.

Sometime in the past few hours, I guess.

The three women were silent for a moment. Eventually it was Lena who spoke up. Do you wonder how they went down? I mean they couldn’t be breached if their set up is like ours. She indicated to the monitor that still gave them a live picture of outside. The perimeter fence had long since fallen, and the massive crowd of zombies was now packed in tight around the concrete cylinder that the camera was mounted on top of.

Doesn’t matter how they went down, Samantha spoke up. What matters is that, as far as we know, we are the last ones looking for a cure.

And what do we do if we find one? Darlene pointed to the monitor. It’s not like we can just load up in a car and take off. There must be thousands of them out there.

We can worry about that when we have a reason, Lena said with a shrug.

Or when we go down like all the others, Darlene added.

***

Bald Knob, AR—Corporal Jody Rafe stepped out into the cold morning air and scanned the area. He was relieved to see everything exactly how he’d left it before going to sleep. That meant it was just a bad dream. Or, more accurately, another bad dream.

As part of 3rd Battalion, 153rd Infantry, Charlie Company…the last of the Gunslingers of Arkansas, Jody’s unit had been in Little Rock at the start of what Command Central referred to as The Event or as the soldiers more commonly called, The opening of Hell. The city had fallen in under two weeks. That still boggled the mind; at least it still boggled Jody’s mind.

The battalion was gone. The 153rd was gone. As far as anybody could tell, Charlie Company was it…the last group standing. Of the two hundred and sixty-three members of Charlie, forty-seven remained. They continued to hold to the command structure. Some of the men complained, saying that there was no more United States, therefore, no more United States Army. Yet, they stayed; they took their watch and patrol assignments, and still addressed their ranking officer as Commander (despite the fact that he was a field-promoted captain who had been out of the academy for less than six months when this whole thing started).

Hey, Jody, a voice heavy with a Boston accent called, you got forage team in two hours.

Thanks, Danny, Jody groaned with a stretch and a wave. Who’s leading?

You ain’t heard? Danny O’ Leary unslung his weapon and stopped with an over-exaggerated present arms move while coming to a half-assed semblance of attention.

Heard what? Jody asked suspiciously.

"You got the detail Sergeant Rafe."

What?

Pitts went AWOL.

And then there were forty-six, Jody thought.

He take that local?

Sergeant Bill Pitts had gotten involved with one of the local girls shortly after Charlie Company had secured the little town of Bald Knob—back when there were still over two hundred living members serving under the banner. There were a few problems with the relationship. The first being the young lady’s husband; that had been solved when the man suffered a bite from one of the stiffs. Only, when the young lady got herself nipped, Pitts tried to hide her instead of submitting her to quarantine.

What happened next was actually pretty sad. It turned out that the girl demonstrated immunity to the bite! It was the first time they’d known anybody to survive the bite and not become one of the stiffs. That was almost worse for the poor gal. Back then, they still had radio contact with other commands. The order came to have the woman secured and sent via helicopter to Georgia. The CDC in Atlanta hadn’t gone offline yet and was very interested in the woman’s apparent immunity.

Pitts had slipped in and taken the girl from the holding cell. It couldn’t be proved since neither of the men on watch that night saw anything. The inquiry was cancelled when Atlanta fell a week later. No use worrying about anything when the location causing all the fuss was no longer active. To nobody’s surprise, the young lady reappeared the next day.

Jody was a little astounded to hear that the sergeant had bailed out on Charlie Company. The man was a damn good soldier and an exceptional leader.

Took the girl, the dog, and a few crates from the armory, Danny said with a snort.

So who decided that I was the next in line?

Cap posted it outside his quarters along with the results of the induction testing. About a hundred of the locals are being drafted.

How is that news going over?

Town’s as quite as I can ever remember…we have extra men patrolling the street in case that piece-of-shit mayor tries to pull anything, Danny reported.

That was another problem entirely. When Charlie Company had rolled in, they’d been treated like heroes. But it was just like any other occupation after a while. The folks didn’t like being told what to do by the military. It had started with a few of the locals doing a number on one of the men who had gone in to one of the local bars after spending three days out in the unprotected countryside looking for possible survivors.

Lately, the defiance had escalated. The citizens were declining to do the duties assigned to them as the preparations were made to ensure that the town was safe. Walls were being constructed, supplies gathered for distribution. The mayor was behind it all, insisting that it was the duty of the military to protect the Good folks of Bald Knob, glory be and amen!

Captain says we will be issuing booklets to everybody.

What? Jody asked as he checked his patrol pack to ensure he had all his gear.

Yep, Danny nodded, every citizen will be issued a booklet every month that will be used to record their hours and determine what they will be allocated at the stores depot.

That’s not gonna go over well, Jody sighed.

That ain’t the half of it, Danny whispered. Starting tomorrow at just before sunrise we will be going house to house to confiscate all supplies such as food and even half-used toothpaste tubes. Cap says that he wants everything under lock and key by nightfall.

How does he figure we can get that big of a job done in so short of a time?

Because everybody is going to be placed in the detention facility until we are finished.

Jody stopped the inventory of his pack and turned to face his fellow soldier. "Sounds a little Red Dawn-esque if you ask me."

Maybe so, Danny agreed, but most of the company seems to think it is a good idea. The fellas are tired of busting their asses for a bunch of ungrateful folks who are starting to treat us worse than the rag heads did over in Iraq.

Jody closed up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He grabbed his weapon and headed to the patrol’s muster area. A cold rain was just beginning to fall. To Jody, this seemed too much like an omen to ignore.

***

I am a princess, Valarie said as she looked in the mirror.

Outside, she could hear some of the sick people pounding on the walls. The last time she had looked, they were not faces that she knew. These were strangers and Valarie knew not to talk to strangers. Still, she would need to take care of these poor people. For some reason, the sick people liked to bite.

She glanced down at the mostly healed rip on her left arm. That had hurt. It was even more upsetting that the person who had bitten her was Father Drieson. Priests were supposed to be people you could trust.

Valarie adjusted her tiara and then put on her gloves just like her mee-maw had taught her. There was work to be done.

I will be right back, Mee-maw, she called over her shoulder.

Grabbing the leather straps and the saw, Valarie peeked outside. Today there were only three of the sick people. That wasn’t going to be too bad.

The girl paused for a moment. An observer would think that she had perhaps suddenly forgotten something and was trying to remember. That was not the case.

I know, Mee-maw, Valarie said as if in response to a command. Then, her voice almost totally flat and monotone, she recited as if by rote, Do the surgery below the knee.

She cocked her head as if hearing something. And in some cases, she actually was. Her mind was replaying the memory of the day that her grandmother had explained to her how and why she needed to cut the legs off of the sick people.

Eventually, almost as if she had been frozen and was now slowly unthawing, Valarie began to move once more. She walked to the door, her tongue sticking just slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she focused all of her attention on the task at hand.

Opening the door, Valarie reached out with one hand and quickly grabbed the zombie (sick person) that had just been pounding on her door. Yanking the sick person inside, she just as quickly slammed the door.

Turning, she used one foot to sweep the legs out from the young woman just as she was about to rise to her unsteady feet. She used to actually wince just a bit the first times she had done such a thing, but the sick people did not seem to notice. Most of them didn’t even cry. And the ones that did were usually already crying when she got to them.

Taking the long piece of leather thong, Valarie bound the hands first. The sick people didn’t kick much, but if they grabbed you, that usually meant they could get in a nasty bite before she could tie them up properly.

Once the hands were secure, Valarie grabbed one ankle and dragged the lady down the hallway and to the room where her mee-maw had closed her eyes before opening them as one of the poor sick people. This was the room where she had taken off the legs of every single sick person in the Sage Farms area.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Not even the pine tree juice was helping with the stinkiness that was now a permanent part of this room. A swarm of flies buzzed around the room, but they were thickest at the open window. Valarie paused for just a second. She would need to go outside and push some of those leg pieces away. The pile was stacked so high that she could see them without having to actually go over to the window and look outside.

I promise to go very fast, Valarie said as she pulled the sick woman to her feet and then shoved her onto her back on the long table. Using the same straps that her mee-maw had helped her put in place, she secured the sick woman in place and grabbed the saw.

As promised, it only took a few minutes to saw off each leg just below the knee. There was hardly any blood, but what there was sure didn’t look right. Valarie was pretty sure that blood was not supposed to be black.

Now, let’s put on some more prettier clothes, Valarie said with a broad smile as she patted the sick woman on the cheek. She seemed not to notice as teeth clacked together loudly as her hand moved away. I think the orange tee shirt will fit.

Valarie went to work changing the sick woman’s top. Then she pulled out a brush. You need a ponytail…

2

Vignettes XX

Aaheru stood on the crumbling remains of the wall that had circled this city for so many years. It had been known as The City of the Dead for decades. Cairo’s population had long since outstripped its capacity. The poor had no place else to turn, and had claimed this vast graveyard as their home. Now, it stood as the last bastion (as far as he and the others knew, at least) against the dead.

One of the millions whose stench floated on the cool desert evening air stood below him, its hands reaching desperately for the living being that stood above. Ahi pulled the long spear from his back and jabbed it down into the eye socket of the horrific creature.

Why waste your energy, brother? Aaheru whispered. Another will fill its place.

It is one less that we will face when we leave. Ahi shook his spear free and lined up to jab another. The sea of heads stretched out before them gave an endless supply of targets to choose amongst.

We will not be facing them when we leave, my brother.

Ahi jabbed, yanked the spear free and faced Aaheru. What do you have planned?

There can only be so many that come on this journey, Aaheru said with no emotion. I will deem who comes…

And the others?

Will be given a different path.

Ahi plunged his spear down again into the eye of a boy that could have been the playmate of his son…the son who had perished in a crowd of those things the first days when the dead had returned to take vengeance on the living. Do you believe they will go willingly?

I do not care, Aaheru said with a shrug. We have the guns and the knives.

Ahi glanced back into the gray sprawl of monuments and tombs, to where the last sons and daughters of Cairo struggled to survive. Those who had once called this armpit of the underworld their home now served Aaheru and those who he had brought with him all those weeks ago when there were no places left to run or hide in the city any longer.

Ahi remembered the killing. It had been a necessary evil to make the point clear that none of the tribal leaders held power any longer now that a real citizen of Cairo had arrived. The soldiers who had chosen to follow Aaheru—Ahi included—had gunned down the elders without mercy. Aaheru had told them that as long as one remained, there was a chance for rebellion. Cut off the head, and the body will be helpless…much like the walking dead, were his exact words.

And when do we leave? Ahi asked.

At dawn. Aaheru picked up a stone and tossed it into the crowd. You and the men will gather the most infirm of the residents and bring them to my tent for a feast this evening. We will celebrate their long life and praise them for their service to the glory of Egypt.

And then?

In the morning they will be taken to the south wall and made to stand.

But, and forgive me, my brother, Ahi risked the wrath of his leader, there are far too many outside the walls. How do you expect us to escape? It is a difficult enough task to get a handful of men out who are travelling light to search for supplies. The caravan you have in mind will move slowly. The dead will return before the last of us can be through the gates.

I have determined the order by importance. Aaheru faced his most trusted subject with a grim expression. "If we stay here any longer, we will all die. Every day, more of those abominations to Allah come. Soon, they will not be tens deep, but hundreds. They abandon the city by the thousands. Many come on the heels of those we have sent for supplies. We are fortunate that this City of the Dead is so vast. Much smaller and it would already be too late."

Ahi looked out at the faces that stared back up at him, so many with mouths open emitting sounds that reminded him of a babe crying for its mother’s teat. Yes, he thought, there were more every day. He knew that Aaheru was correct, but that still didn’t make him comfortable with killing more living, breathing souls. Yet, if he opposed Aaheru, he might find himself in that tail end of the departing caravan.

It will be as you say, my brother. Ahi jabbed his spear into the face of a woman whose burka had been reduced to rags that were rigid with long-since-dried blood.

***

A series of shacks sitting on stilts that looked like telephone poles cut in half were scattered in a rough circle in the center of what had once been a city park. Walkways from one to another kept all of the tiny residences connected. A wall of cars and trucks formed a fence-like barricade as the first line of defense. Juan could make out several coils of barbed and razor wire wrapped around the defunct vehicles. Inside that, he thought he could see the shadow of a trench.

In the center of the elevated huts was a decent sized fire pit. Playing near the fire were at least a dozen children. Juan went to take a step forward, but Thad grabbed his arm.

We’ve been spotted, Thad hissed.

Huh?

There, in that big pine tree, on the platform. Thad pointed. Juan followed his finger and spotted the man with the complicated looking bow pointed their direction.

He ain’t the only one, Keith breathed. To the left I spot another.

Juan raised his hands above his head and took a few steps forward. When nobody fired, he took a few more. This time, an arrow punched into the ground a dozen feet in front of him.

Unstrapping his weapons, he made a big