Dead South | Book 2 | Dead Lies Read online

  Crawling over to Brooke, Jon threw himself on top of her as bullets continued to fly. They kept hitting the wall outside of the office, as well as the door.

  Human shouting joined the gunshots, though what they said was indistinguishable because of all the firing and the screams of the creatures. After what seemed like an hour-long battle had taken place, the gunfire stopped. Jon uncovered his ears, slightly raising his head. He heard nothing—most notably, no snarling zombies.

  “I think it’s clear!” a male voice said from outside.

  The familiar noise of feet marching over debris then sounded. Jon rolled off of Brooke, carefully so as not to make noise, and the three of them looked at each other. Jon raised his index finger to his lips, signaling for them to be quiet.

  The sounds got louder before stopping. Jon remained still, even being careful not to breathe too loudly now.

  Then, the door handle shook. It startled Terrence more than Jon and Brooke, but all three of them remained still and calm.

  “We know there’s somebody in here,” the same male voice from before said. “Open up.”

  11

  They remained still. But in the back of his mind, Jon knew there was no getting out of this. They had nowhere to run.

  “We saw the truck outside,” the man said, “and these things were doing all they could to get inside that room. Now come on out. We aren’t going to hurt you, but the longer you decide to stay in there, the more frustrated we’re going to get.”

  Jon glanced at Brooke and Terrence, then back at the door. “How do we really know you’re not going to shoot us right when we open this door?” he asked.

  “I guess you’re just going to have to trust us.”

  “That hasn’t exactly worked out for us in the past,” Brooke said.

  “Well, I don’t see that you have a choice here. There’s only one way in and out of that room, and needless to say, we aren’t in a rush to go anywhere.”

  “What are we going to do?” Terrence asked his friends in a whisper.

  “Exactly how many of you are in there?” the man outside asked.

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Jon said to Terrence, pushing himself up off the floor. “There’s three of us in here,” he answered the voice.

  “You armed?”

  “Of course!” Brooke said as she and Terrence stood.

  “Drop ‘em,” the guy outside said.

  “You going to do the same?” Jon asked.

  “I said you could trust us.”

  Jon heard metal touch the ground outside as the people presumably put their weapons down. He then nodded at Brooke and Terrence. The three of them put their own guns down, and Jon removed the bat and hatchet from his back, dropping them, as well.

  “Alright,” Jon said. “We’re coming out.” He went to one side of the desk as Terrence grabbed the other, and they moved it away from the door.

  Jon then approached the door, briefly closing his eyes to take a deep breath. He unlocked it and turned the knob, pulling it open.

  Four people stood only a few feet away from the room, with automatic rifles pointed at the three survivors from Hope’s Dawn. A slender man stood at the front of the group wearing a green long-sleeve shirt. He had a short curly afro and a shaggy beard with similar curls to what was on top of his head. Jon threw his hands in the air and narrowed his eyes at the apparent leader.

  “What the fuck are you doing? I told you we were putting our weapons down!”

  “And you did,” the man said. “I appreciate that.”

  “Then, what is this?” Brooke asked.

  “A precaution.” The leader peeked over his shoulder at the three people with him and nodded. They all lowered their weapons, and the leader of the group then did so, as well.

  Sweat was collected on Jon’s forehead as he lowered his hands. “That’s not a very good way to gain our trust.”

  The man tilted his head. “You’re welcome for us killing all these things for you. Gratitude aside, you clearly haven’t encountered that many people out there. Now, what are you all doing up here in Taylorville? Can’t say I’ve ever seen you around.”

  “Why should we tell you why we’re here?” Terrence asked.

  The man held his palm out. “Easy, brother. It’s all good.”

  Terrence shook his head. “Just because we’re both black doesn’t make me your brother.”

  “Chill, Terrence,” Brooke said.

  The leader raised his eyebrows. “You might wanna listen to her.”

  “You gonna quit wasting our time now and let us leave?” Brooke asked the leader.

  “You don’t leave until we tell you that you can leave,” the sole woman in the group said.

  Brooke took a step toward the woman, but Jon held her back.

  “Everyone, stop it!” He then looked at the leader. “Clearly, we aren’t going to try anything. So, why don’t you tell them to cut the shit, and let’s work this out.”

  The man nodded at the others in his group, gesturing for them to calm down.

  “Good, now let’s start over.” Jon stuck his hand out. “My name’s Jon South.”

  The man hesitated, then accepted the handshake. “Raylon Doyle.”

  “Good to meet you, Raylon.”

  “Likewise, Jon South. Now, what are you doing up here?”

  “We got into a fight with some nasty folks recently. Lost some good people and have several others who are injured. The problem is that we’re running out of basic medical supplies, most notably alcohol and antibiotics.”

  “And you came here looking for that?” a man in Raylon’s group asked, causing the others to laugh.

  “Shut the fuck up, Jimmy,” Raylon said. The smiles disappeared from their faces. He turned back to Jon and said, “Sorry about that. Unfortunately, Jimmy’s right. You’re not going to find anything in this town. Before all the zombies came and took it over, we’d already scavenged everything worth taking.”

  Jon nodded, then stared at the ground, putting his hands on his hips. He’d known this would be the case, but had still held the hope that things might be different.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your people,” Raylon said. “Was it a blind attack?”

  “No,” Brooke said. “It was just some thugs we’d been dealing with for a while.”

  “Do you know where we might be able to find what we need?” Jon asked Raylon, cutting to the point.

  Raylon licked his lips, putting his free hand on his waist. He sighed. “We might have what you need back at our camp.”

  A smile crept onto Jon’s face, but Raylon held his hand up.

  “Before you get too excited, I can’t guarantee we’re going to be able to help you. You’re gonna have to talk to the real boss. It’s going to be for him to decide.”

  Jon looked at Brooke and Terrence, searching for any sort of reservation. He saw none, so he looked back at Raylon and shrugged.

  “Take us to him.”

  12

  Jon again sat in the bed of the pickup truck as they followed Raylon and the others back to their camp. They remained on the main highway for only about a mile before pulling off onto a discreet dirt road that Jon might never have noticed if they hadn’t been following someone who knew it was there. Trees surrounded them, the path cutting through the woods. He looked up through the trees to see an overcast sky signaling it might rain soon. The route would be caked in mud when that happened, and Jon was glad they’d opted to bring the pickup truck instead of a car.

  As they continued down the dirt road, it became clear to Jon as he bounced up and down with every bump they hit that Raylon trusted them. They’d obviously gone to great lengths to settle their camp in a place off the beaten path and were now taking three strangers there. That wasn’t something you’d do, void of trust, and if Raylon had wanted to kill them, he and his clan would have done so inside the pharmacy. He wouldn’t have been dragging them all the way back to his camp. Because of that, Jon knew they
were safe—at least for now.

  They reached the tree-line at the other end of the woods, and Jon felt the truck slow down. He turned and looked through the cab window.

  A brick wall that had to be ten feet high stretched from one end of the camp to the other, surrounding it. The only place where there was a break in the wall was the gate to enter. Outside of the entrance was a large, faded sign. It showed a family of three standing in front of a house and read: Your Future Starts in Freedom Ridge Estates. And it wouldn’t be easy to crash through this barrier like it had been at Hope’s Dawn. This gate had been built to better keep people from entering. The guard at the gate clearly recognized the vehicle Raylon and his crew rode in before they opened the gate. The guard then approached their window. Jon couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he watched the guard glance back at him, Terrence, and Brooke, and then he nodded.

  Raylon pulled forward through the gate, and Terrence followed. The guard remained where he stood, and as the pickup truck passed, he locked his eyes onto Jon’s. He didn’t wave or smile, instead merely holding his assault rifle in his hands and staring at Jon before closing the gate again. This brought Jon a moment of discomfort, but he still felt like they were in good hands with Raylon. Jon knew bad people, and Raylon wasn’t one.

  Much like at Hope’s Dawn, the people here had blocked off part of a residential neighborhood to call home. Houses lined each side of the street, and they looked like they’d been kept up pristinely. Some of the lots were empty or had houses only partially built. It was a larger space than Hope’s Dawn occupied, but not so big that they couldn’t protect it. The brick wall appeared to surround the entire camp. At least a couple dozen people were outside, and they all had their eyes on the newcomers.

  Raylon pulled into a designated parking area with several other vehicles, and Terrence parked behind him. When the truck came to a full stop, Jon hopped out over the side. Raylon and his crew got out and approached the truck as Terrence and Brooke stepped out.

  “Welcome to Freedom Ridge,” Raylon said, his arms wide.

  “Hell of a place you’ve got here,” Terrence said.

  “Yeah, we’ve done what we can to make it feel like home, but also be safe.”

  “It sure is hidden,” Brooke said.

  Raylon laughed. “Yeah, it was a new construction subdivision. They hadn’t built the drive up to the main road yet.” He then noticed the guns each visitor held and pointed at them. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you to leave those in the truck.”

  “Of course,” Jon said. He could see some unease in the faces of Terrence and Brooke, but he gestured to them to put their weapons in the back of the truck.

  “Thanks,” Raylon said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at one of his men. “Jimmy here will watch over your truck to make sure no one messes with anything.”

  “It’ll be safe,” Jimmy assured them.

  Jon nodded at him, and then the rest of Raylon’s group scattered, leaving only him with the people from Hope’s Dawn. He started walking.

  “Follow me.”

  The people around them did a poor job of pretending not to stare at the newcomers, though most didn’t even try to hide their interest. Jon looked around, studying the faces of those who lived there while also taking in the settlement itself. The expressions could tell him a lot about what life was like there. And from what he could tell, the people looked more curious than threatened. No one seemed to be there against their will, and he’d witnessed no foul play from what he took to be the town’s leaders. But meeting the man in charge of the place would go a long way in telling Jon what it was like there.

  Raylon led them to a house not far from where they’d parked. It was a split-level home with a large front porch, but nothing fancier than any of the others Jon had seen. It wasn’t like the elaborate house Judah had taken for himself while making the other Vultures stuff themselves into much smaller homes.

  “This is it,” Raylon said, stepping up onto the porch. “Are you ready?”

  “Why wouldn’t we be?” Brooke asked, an ounce of suspicion in her voice.

  Raylon smiled, pulling the unlocked door open. “After you, then.”

  13

  The inside of the home smelled of lavender. What was most strange to Jon was that it didn’t look like it had been through an apocalyptic event. The house had been well-maintained with clean floors, nicely arranged furniture, and no dust on the baseboards or paintings. The staircase blocked the rest of the lower level from the entrance, but a door on the left led to a sitting room and a hallway straight ahead led, presumably, to the living room and the kitchen.

  Raylon cupped his right hand over his mouth. “Lennox, where you at?”

  “Back here,” the voice came back from somewhere on the first story of the house.

  Raylon started down the hallway, and the others followed. Jon studied the house more, trying to get a feel for the man who lived here. But he wasn’t sure if that was fair. For all he knew, all of the furniture and decor could have been left over from before. Another family could have lived in this house, and Lennox could have taken it over after the outbreak. He would have to wait only a few more moments to meet the man and see for himself what he was like.

  They passed the kitchen on the right and entered the living room, where an open sliding glass door led to the back porch. A man sat in a chair with his back turned to the house, smoke drifting above his head. His dreadlocks covered half of the chair’s back. He pulled his hand away, and Jon saw a cigarette in his hand. But as he got closer, the smell told him it wasn’t a regular cigarette.

  Raylon led them outside, and the man didn’t bother to look back at his visitors. Jon, Brooke, and Terrence stood in the doorway.

  “I found some people in Taylorville,” Raylon said, waving Jon and the others to come outside. “Brought them here to meet you.”

  Lennox turned, studying the three newcomers with his chocolate eyes. The beard on his face had been well-kempt, with patches of gray speckled in with the black. He set a faded copy of a paperback down on the table next to him. The cover featured a girl in a white dress and had a long title, with the author’s name, J.D. Barker, in large red letters at the top. Lennox raised the joint to his lips again, taking a hit and then exhaling as he pushed the smoke out of his lungs with a relieved sigh. He then held it up as an offering to the others.

  Jon was about to decline for all of them, but Brooke stepped forward and accepted the offer, guiding the joint to her mouth and inhaling. Jon’s lips parted slightly, as the move had surprised him.

  She noticed his face and shrugged as she exhaled. “What? It’s just a little pot. It’s not like I see this every day.” She passed the joint back to Lennox. “This used to keep me sane when my ex would drive me nuts.”

  “It’s good at doing that,” Lennox said. “That’s why we grow it here. Helps keep everyone calm and collected.” He next offered it to Raylon, who accepted.

  “They’re from a camp called Hope’s Dawn,” Raylon said, taking a hit.

  “Hope’s Dawn?” Lennox repeated.

  “We’re just a small community,” Terrence said. “About twenty-five miles south of here.”

  Lennox rubbed his beard, receiving the half-smoked joint back from Raylon. “How have we never heard of you? We’ve explored everywhere within fifty miles.”

  “Apparently, you didn’t look hard enough,” Jon said.

  Lennox grinned as he studied Jon up and down. “I don’t believe I caught your names.”

  “I’m Brooke, and this is Terrence and Jon.”

  “Alright,” Lennox said, his eyes still on Jon. “I’m Lennox Wilkens, and I run things here in Freedom Ridge. Though, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s not like I’m a dictator or something. We all work together to make the decisions around here. But someone has to be the figurehead, right? Anyways, I’m curious as to why Raylon brought you here to me.”

  “He said you might b
e able to help us out,” Brooke said. “We’ve got some injured people back at our camp, and we’re running low on supplies.”

  “Like what?”

  “Antibiotics and alcohol,” Terrence said. “Also clean gauze and bandages. Really, anything we can use to prevent infection and keep wounds clean.”

  Lennox snorted a laugh. “Yeah, that stuff isn’t exactly easy to come by. You’re definitely not going to find it in a place like Taylorville.”

  “Do you have it?” Jon asked.

  Lennox eyed him again, tilting his head slightly. “If you’re gonna snipe at me like that, then I’m here to tell you that I ain’t got shit for you all.”

  Brooke stepped forward, taking the lead before Jon grew more frustrated. “It’s been a rough couple of days for us. We’ve been through a lot. So, please excuse him if he seems a little short on patience.”

  Lennox studied Jon for another moment before turning his attention back to Brooke. “What kind of wounds are we talking about here? What the hell happened to y’all?”

  “We got into a fight with some people who were bullying us around. Our camp lost some good people, but we think we took care of our problem.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your losses. Who were these people?”

  “A group called the Vultures,” Terrence said.

  Raylon put his hands on his waist. “Hold up. You took out the Vultures? You didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t ask,” Terrence replied.

  “I didn’t think you all were capable of taking out a group like that.”

  “You’ve heard of them?” Brooke asked.

  Lennox and Raylon shared a look, their expressions glazed over. They then looked at the group from Hope’s Dawn.

  “We can’t help you,” Lennox said.

  “Why not?” Jon asked.

  “What all do you know about the Vultures?” Raylon asked.