DEAD_Suffer The Children Read online

  Other Titles by TW Brown

  The DEAD Series:

  DEAD: The Ugly Beginning

  DEAD: Revelations

  DEAD: Fortunes & Failures

  DEAD: Winter

  DEAD: Siege & Survival

  DEAD: Confrontation

  DEAD: Reborn

  DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn

  DEAD: Spring

  DEAD: The Reclamation

  DEAD: End

  The New DEAD series

  DEAD: Onset (Book 1 of the New DEAD series)

  DEAD: Alone (Book 2 of the New DEAD series)

  Zomblog

  Zomblog

  Zomblog II

  Zomblog: The Final Entry

  Zomblog: Snoe

  Zomblog: Snoe’s War

  Zomblog: Snoe’s Journey

  That Ghoul Ava

  That Ghoul Ava: Her First Adventures

  That Ghoul Ava & The Queen of the Zombies

  That Ghoul Ava Kick Some Faerie A**

  Next, on a very special That Ghoul Ava

  That Ghoul Ava on the Lam

  That Ghoul Ava On a Roll

  That Ghoul Ava Sacks a Quarterback

  That Ghoul Ava has an Appetite for Deception

  The World of the DEAD expands with:

  Snapshot—Estacada, Oregon

  (Coming 2018)

  To see your town die in the DEAD world, email TW Brown at: [email protected]

  DEAD: Suffer the Children (Book 3 of the New DEAD Series)

  ©2017 May December Publications LLC

  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.

  A moment with the author…

  Well, you waited, and it is finally here. Book 3 of the New DEAD series. So many of you hit me up the past several months asking if I was done writing? I guess I just needed to take a break and recharge.

  I know that my personal life is an open book to those who choose to follow, so many undoubtedly are aware of the depression issue I struggle with, and to be honest, it got the upper hand for a bit. Add in my big fall during the 2017 Seattle Spartan Beast (which you can watch on YouTube if you Google ‘Spartan Beast 2017 Ladder Fall in 360’) and a dose of pneumonia…yeah, I hit a wall.

  2018 is going to be a return to what I do best. Disturb you with horrific tales of zombies, zombie children, and humans taking advantage of the chaos. I have one Snapshot to write since it was bid on at a charity event last spring, but then the rest of the year is SOLELY dedicated to the New DEAD series.

  If all goes mostly well, then you should expect at least three more offerings this year. By the end of that time, perhaps Evan will meet up with the cast of DEAD: Snapshot—Las Vegas, Nevada. If you haven’t read it, you might want to…if you are okay with seeing the world through the eyes of the man who will be my next “Big Bad”.

  Anyway, you’ve waited long enough, so let me just thank my amazing Beta Team for helping me clean up the edges, my wife (as always) for continuing to let me do what I love, and to you…the person reading this. I know my absence cost me a lot of you, and hopefully those that stuck around will spread the word that I’m back. (That is my subtle way of begging for reviews.)

  Thanks for picking this book.

  Aroo! Aroo! Aroo!

  TW Brown

  January 2018

  To My Amazing Readers

  Thank you for sticking with me:

  Malik Wyrick, Nigel Ward, Debra Allen, Caroline Harmon, Will Barnes, Sherri Barnes, Terri Deese, Stephen Deese, Amanda Riddle, Roy Husebø, Maggie Serna, Wanda Beers, Christina Burns, Kevin Wright, Michele Kiltz, Richard Kiltz, Leslie Brussel, Janet Brown, Sian Coburn-Nicol, Cathryn Kiana, Steve Delien, Ashley Pinkham, Edward Taylor, Lysa Chetney, Bill Stokes, Rick Stokes, Paul Stokes…and you.

  Contents

  Chewie

  Diversion

  Liar

  Running…Again!

  No Right Answers

  Yet Another Move

  About Alex

  Amen

  Getting Situated

  Kids and Kitties

  “Dammit, Todd!”

  Anger and Flashbacks

  Children and Strangers

  Company

  Last Straws

  ZOMBIE: The Cat Mansion

  1

  Chewie

  I felt my stomach clench as the wave of nausea hit me hard. The smells of the dead and undead hardly registered as I knelt beside the dark mass of fur that lie sprawled in the weeds and shrubs. My hands plunged into the fur and came away bloody.

  “No,” I managed around a throat that was closing to a pinhole.

  My vision blurred as the tears built up and then spilled over from my eyes to carve tracks down the dirt, dust, and grime of the past few days that covered my face—and everything else for that matter. With a huff, my beloved Newfoundland tried to roll her head up and look at me.

  “Easy, girl,” I crooned as I leaned my face down and nuzzled Chewie. I didn’t care if I came away covered in blood. At this exact moment in time, all I wanted to do was let my dog know I was there with her.

  “Here, Evan,” a voice whispered from behind me.

  I glanced back to see Marshawn standing with a shallow bowl in his hands. “Maybe some water will help.”

  I accepted the dish with thanks and then brought it to Chewie’s muzzle. The dog’s large tongue came out to lap at the offered water. As she drank, her head rose higher. It was almost like watching a flower open to the sun as she appeared to visibly strengthen.

  Eventually, I had to pull the dish away for fear that she would drink too much too fast. Setting it aside, I ran my hands over the Newfoundland’s body as I sought out the injuries responsible for so much blood. I found one nasty slash down her right side that ran about four inches. Careful probing revealed that, other than needing stitches, it did not appear to penetrate any vital organs.

  Her right ear was also very ragged. I couldn’t tell what had caused the injury, but I was willing to bet it had been chewed on. She also had another deep cut on her left shoulder. This one was full of dirt and had almost stopped bleeding. Additionally, she had a few areas where the fur looked to have been yanked out by the roots. I hugged her again, vowing silently to care for her and get her back to being healthy.

  All around me, I heard occasional thuds and meaty smacks. It took a concentrated effort for me to tear my eyes away from Chewie to realize that, despite things being mostly disposed of, there were still a few of the undead able to move. One had been in the act of dragging itself towards Chewie and me and was perhaps a dozen feet away. Marshawn stood over it, yanking his machete free from the back of its head.

  “We need to secure this area, Evan,” the man said simply before heading towards the next zombie still able to move.

  “It’s gonna be okay, girl,” I whispered, giving Chewie a gentle pat on the side of her neck.

  Getting to my feet, I edged the bowl of water closer to her and then joined in on the elimination of the zombies still wandering the grounds. As soon as that was under control, we all set about the task of plugging the gaping holes in the wall that circled the pla
ce.

  By the time we finished and I returned to my dog’s side, the big Newfoundland was snoring softly in the shade. Somebody had even cleaned and dressed her wounds. Her fur was still matted and filthy, but she appeared to be sleeping comfortably.

  “Evan?” a voice called from somewhere inside the house.

  “Coming,” I shouted back. The sun was starting to set, and shadows had stretched out to soak the entire ground in their cool darkness.

  I walked into the house for the first time and was hit by the stench of death. There was blood splattered on the wall of one staircase where it looked like somebody had been gunned down. A few zombies had been dropped in here, but from the looks of it, that had been a few days ago.

  Marshawn appeared at the top of the stairs. “Up here,” he called.

  I trudged up the stairs and did my best not to look at the chunks of meat that still decorated the wooden staircase that had once been a person. I reached the top and felt my stomach try to fold in on itself and expel everything it might contain…which, now that I thought about it, wasn’t much.

  I hadn’t been on very good terms with Betty Sims, but she deserved better than what fate had dealt. I flashed to the bits and pieces of human body that I’d just passed. Somebody had taken the time to mount her head on what had probably been a very expensive mahogany table. Her eyes were filmed over and shot with black tracers and they followed me as I approached. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came except for that of her teeth clicking together when she snapped them at me as I drew near. Her gray tongue swished around and darted from her mouth in between the chomping snaps in a hideous display.

  “Jesus,” I gasped as I took a few unsteady steps closer. The eyes followed me, and maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw hatred glaring at me from those tracer-riddled, milky orbs.

  Condemnation.

  I drew a blade from my hip and stood before the accusatory glare of Betty’s undead gaze. Grabbing the top of her head, I plunged the point of the knife into her eye socket and stepped back.

  “I take it you knew her,” Marshawn whispered as he put a big hand on my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.

  “She was part of my original group.” I pulled the knife free and wiped it off before sliding it back into its sheath.

  My mind whirled through the brief span of time that I’d actually known Betty, starting from our first encounter when I’d pulled into work for the first and last day of my new job as a music teacher.

  That moment in time felt like forever ago, but in reality, it had only been a couple of months. My God…all of this in such a short span. Was there any hope of humanity surviving this? Had lawlessness risen to such proportions so quickly? Were we really that flawed as a species?

  “We can stay tonight, but I think it would be better for us if we bail out of here first thing tomorrow.” Marshawn’s voice brought me back and I nodded. “You should get some rest.”

  I don’t know why, but for some reason, I stumbled to what had been my room until I’d left with the thought that I was sparing my friends the issue of having to put me down. Now that I knew I was immune, I almost wished that I’d never undergone that journey. Why does hindsight have to be so damned perfect?

  My room was nothing like I’d left it. It had been ransacked. The closet had been gone through, much of its contents tossed out into the bedroom in heaps that had been stomped on and kicked about. The bed was a horrid mess and I shuddered to think what might’ve happened on it. I could not bring myself to lie down until I flipped the mattress over. Even then, sleep took much longer than I expected considering how exhausted I knew myself to be.

  ***

  “Rise and shine,” a deep voice rumbled almost right next to my ear, causing me to awake with a start, my hands going for a weapon. “Easy, cowboy.”

  I opened my eyes to see Marshawn leaning over me with a smile. A strange growl caused me to scramble away as sleep refused to relinquish its hold on my brain. I landed on the floor with a painful thud that reminded me how much of a beating my body had taken over the past several days.

  “That looked like it hurt,” a deep laughing voice chortled from above me. It was followed by a snuffling sound and Marshawn leaned over me and seemed to be grabbing something on my bed.

  I sat up, rubbing the sore spot where my shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact. I wasn’t even fully upright when a dark shape filled my face and a huge, warm, wet tongue swabbed at it with gusto.

  “Chewie,” I gasped, getting to my knees and burying my face in the thick fur of her neck.

  I leaned back when it struck me. “What…when…?”

  “She got a bit of a bath last night. Seems she has won the hearts of pretty much everybody in short order.” Marshawn plopped down in the bed beside my Newfoundland and scratched behind one of her ears before turning his attention back to me. “Did you know this place has a pool?”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t all gross and scummy?”

  “I wouldn’t swim in it,” Marshawn made a face. “But I would bet it is cleaner than most of the rivers in the area…or it was.” He ruffled Chewie’s thick mane and stood up. “They decided that it was useless to us, but that it would at least get the worst of the filth from your dog.”

  The big, black dog did a combination of sliding and dragging herself off the bed and laid her head on my lap. I reached for her and she immediately rolled herself over so that I could scratch her belly.

  “I doubt that you came in here to wake me and tell me that my dog was bathed.” I looked up at Marshawn who had drifted to the window and was staring outside at a darkly overcast spring day. The sounds and smells of rain drifted in and I wanted desperately to allow myself to enjoy those sensations. Unfortunately, I had a feeling my day was going to start with unwelcome news.

  “I sent patrols out last night just to get an idea of the area. I didn’t want us to get any nasty surprises in the middle of the night,” Marshawn explained. “They found that kid, Nickie.”

  I tried to make that name mean something, but it wasn’t ringing any bells. I looked up as Marshawn turned back to face me and gave a shrug and gestured for him to explain.

  “The kid that went with Miranda.”

  It all came back to me. When I’d given everybody one last chance to back out of what I’d hoped to be the last confrontation with Don Evans, he’d been the one who had opted out and agreed to join Miranda in bringing the car that she and I had loaded with supplies back here to what I’d hoped was a safe and firmly entrenched Carl and the others.

  I had a wash of guilt hit me when I realized that, after seeing the supplies had been delivered (but also torched, presumably by Don’s people), I had all but forgotten about Miranda. Much less given even the slightest thought to the young man who’d joined her.

  “I take it that, by found him, you mean…” I let that statement hang for Marshawn to finish.

  “Nailed to the side of a house down the hill.” Marshawn’s voice was flat and almost void of any emotion.

  “Why?” I blurted.

  I was really having a tough time believing that things had gone so bad so fast when it came to people. I’d been one of those people who rolled his eyes when all the zombie stories seemed to just spawn this parade of bad guys. It was almost laughable.

  Or at least I’d thought so.

  Yet, here I was…facing my own version of a super-villain. Don Evans was proving to be the epitome of ultimate evil. I knew in that moment that I would have no choice but to go after this guy and kill him. If not for myself, or for those I’d know personally that he’d murdered, then for the poor souls that might cross his path in the future.

  “Evan!” Marshawn snapped his fingers in front of my face and I looked up at him. “There’s more bad news, I’m afraid.”

  ‘You realize I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet?” I sulked as I gave Chewie one more good belly scratch before standing. She made one of her annoyed Wookie noises in prote
st of me slipping out from beneath her.

  “There is a herd numbering in the thousands…and they are headed this direction. Best guess, we have about three hours to gather anything useful left behind here and move out.”

  I shuddered at the thought of this place being surrounded by a massive mob of the walking dead. With the walls already breached in a number of locations, there would be no way we could shore them up to withstand anything as large as Marshawn described. We had no choice but to vacate.

  “So much for coffee,” I groused.

  Ten minutes later I was outside looking at the meager amount of supplies that we’d been able to scrounge from this place. Don and his crew had done a thorough job of either taking what they wanted or destroying what they didn’t. My hatred for him was growing exponentially by the day.

  “Is this everybody?” I asked the man I’d nicknamed Superfly in my head.

  “A few of the folks vanished in the night.” The big man pushed a wheeled cart to the location where all the supplies were being stacked.

  We were going to have to figure out what was the most vital—despite the fact that a lot of the stuff here had been looted—we would still be leaving things behind since we could only carry so much. My eyes scanned the people scurrying around like ants who’d had their hill kicked.

  “Figures,” I muttered as my eyes found Neil Pearson exiting the house with a pair of hiking packs in his hands. “Why couldn’t that prick be one of the individuals that had skipped out in the night?”

  Neil and I were not on good terms. He was just that kind of person who instantly grated on my nerves from the first time we’d met.

  “What’s that?” Superfly said with a cocked eyebrow that would’ve made the Rock proud.

  “Sorry, just bitching out loud,” I said with a wave of my hand.