Walking With The Dead | Book 3 | Living With The Dead Read online

  Living with the Dead

  (Walking with the Dead, Book 3)

  Living with the Dead

  (Walking with the Dead, Book 3)

  PJ Dziekan

  Copyright © 2020 PJ Dziekan

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 9798676346423

  For the others who raised me and watched over me

  My siblings

  Cougy, Sandi, Al, Milo, Carl

  BOOK ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gunfire peppered the air around them. Sarah Louis ran, one hand wrapped around her abdomen, the other gripping the 9mm tight. Mick Cooke followed close behind, his shotgun empty, hanging from a cord around his neck. The weapon bounced against his hip with every step, but he couldn’t leave it. If they got back to the apartment or the market, they would find more shells. For now, they needed to find a place to hole up, to wait for the trouble to pass, for help to arrive.

  The pain ripped through her again and she couldn’t hold back the scream. “What is it?” Mick asked, his head swiveling to check their surroundings.

  “It’s your kid,” Sarah panted as the pain subsided.

  “What?!?” He exclaimed, his hand moving to her distended belly. “Now?”

  “For a while now,” she admitted. She felt an odd sensation, then her pants dampened. “And my water just broke.”

  “Are you fucking serious? Jesus, Sarah!! You shouldn’t be out here!”

  “No shit.” She swiped a hand across her brow. “Neither of us should be here. How the hell did they get in?” She spotted one just about 20 feet away, probably drawn by her scream. She took aim and shot it in the head. The body dropped with a barely heard thump.

  “That doesn’t matter! What are we going to do?” Mick held his free hand on her belly, the other clutching a prybar, his only defense against what raged around them.

  “We’re going to have a baby.” Another pain, she bit her lip to stop another scream. “Pretty damn soon.”

  “Come on, we have to find somewhere out of the open.” He took her hand and started down the street.

  “Where?” She gasped. “We took down most of the buildings around here to build the greenhouses.”

  “I don’t know, babe, but we have to get out of the middle of the street.” He pulled her along, wincing when she tightened her hand on his. The pains were coming fast.

  “Mick, I – I don’t think I can go much further.” He hated to hear the pain in her voice.

  “OK.” He steered her towards the sidewalk, where there was a tiny patch of green where a tree once stood. The grass would be softer than the hard ground. He dropped the pry bar and pulled off his jacket, laying it face down on the grass. It wasn’t very clean, but it was better than nothing. He helped her to lay down on the jacket, watching her face as the pain washed over her. “What do I do?” He asked as he dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Help me get my pants off.”

  “Not now, you’re having a baby.” He had to joke. If not, he’d scream.

  “Ass,” she laughed weakly. Another pain struck and she moaned.

  “Sarah, I don’t know what to do,” Mick said. He shifted to kneel between her legs, wishing he could do something, anything.

  “I don’t either.” Her voice was thick with pain and yes, tears. “I’ve never done this before.” She looked up at his blood splattered face as a contraction ripped thru her. She gritted her teeth against the pain, swallowing the scream that threatened to break through. “I’m never doing it again.”

  Mick smiled. “Will you know when it’s time?”

  She could hear the sounds of gunfire in the distance. Another contraction hit and she dropped her gun from her right hand and clutched her belly. They were coming right on top of each other. Her left held Mick’s, squeezing tight. “I think—I think soon.”

  He waited until her pain eased, then dragged her wet jeans and panties down her legs. “Sarah, I see something. Is it time to push?”

  “With the next contraction,” she panted. “Be ready.”

  “I am.” His eyes met hers and he smiled. Biting her lip, she smiled back.

  Less than fifteen seconds later, the next contraction began. “Mick, it’s coming!” She cried out as she pushed, the pain unbelievable.

  “The head’s out! I’m holding his head!” Mick exclaimed. He couldn’t believe he held his child’s head in his hands, that soon, they would be a family.

  Sarah fell back, her chest heaving. “Her head,” she said weakly. She heard Mick’s chuckle. “This is the hardest part,” she said.

  “I’m here for you, Sarah.”

  “I know.” She felt the next one coming. “Get ready…” She bit her lip, keeping the scream inside as she pushed, hard, wanting this done, wanting it over. She tasted blood in her mouth, but she couldn’t let them hear her, even though she felt like she was being ripped apart. Then, all of a sudden, it was over. She heard a small cry.

  “Sarah…” Mick breathed. He placed their child on her belly, still connected to her. Her hand came up to rest on the baby’s stomach. Blinking away tears, he looked up at her. “Oh, Sarah, I love you.”

  He shifted back on his heels, bringing a bloodied hand up to wipe his eyes. Sarah opened her mouth to reply when Mick pitched over on his side, the sound of the gunshot reaching her after he had fallen. She saw the hole in the side of his head, just a drop of blood visible. Her eyes wide, she screamed, her voice merging with that of her fatherless child.

  ♦

  Sarah’s eyes flew open and she bit off her scream. She looked to her right, seeing Mick curled up beside her, his hand resting on her hip. She looked to her left, seeing the silhouette of their baby, sleeping peacefully in the bassinet. She sighed, bringing her hand up to scrub at her eyes. The damn dream was coming more often.

  She knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep. She eased out from under Mick’s hand and sat on the edge of the bed. Her jeans were hanging over the chair. She slipped those on, fastening her belt, then slid her feet into her boots, not bothering to tie them, just tucking the laces inside, then stood. On her way out of the bedroom, she stopped to look down at their sleeping daughter. Josephine Ryan Cooke was a handful when awake, an absolute angel when she slept. But at least she slept. Unlike Missy’s son, Louis, who at 18 months of age barely slept 3 hours in a row.

  With a smile, Sarah tiptoed past the bassinet into the living room. She grabbed the battery powered lantern from the side table by the door and turned it on low. She carried it into the kitchen and set it on the counter. She quickly brewed herself a cup of tea, still lamenting the loss of cream after all these years. She got used to drinking it without, but damn, she still missed it. The milk from the few cows they had was too precious to waste on cream. She carried the lantern and the tea back into the living room and set them on the coffee table before settling on the sofa. She picked up her well-worn notebook and started to work.

  Nearly three years after the end of the world, pre-ZA food supplies were hard to find. Every so often, someone would find a hidden cache and they’d have a few cans of peaches or her favorite, pineapple. Mostly, they grew what they could, bartered for what they couldn’t. They managed to connect with a few other communities and trade between them was brisk. According to the list from Troy, they were getting low on fruit, which the community at Kittington grew and stored in abundance. They could trade some fish, maybe even some of their precious batteries. She made a note to send a scout.

  She looked over the work schedule created by Troy and Annie, surprised to see a few unfamiliar names. She was supposed to meet all new arrivals. She’d hav
e to find out how she missed the newcomers. She made another note for herself in her ever-present notepad.

  “Hey,” a voice softly said. She lifted her head to see Mick standing in the doorway.

  “Hey yourself.” She smiled.

  “Why are you up?”

  She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get a start on the day. Did you know we had a few new people here?”

  “Is it the dream again?” Mick walked over to sit next to her on the sofa.

  “I just couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t look at him as she lied. He didn’t need to worry about her. He worried enough in the past couple years.

  “Sarah…” She looked up at him, at the beautiful blue eyes their daughter had inherited. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself. Tell me about the dream.”

  She shook her head. “Just a nightmare. I barely remember it.” Liar. You remember every single detail. Her eyes searched out the spot in the dream where the bullet entered his skull.

  Mick sighed. She never shared. She held it and held it until she broke under the weight. And he was always there to pick up the pieces. “What are you doing?” He asked, nodding at the notebook.

  “We need to set up a trade with Kittington. And like I said, there’s some new folks in town that I didn’t meet. I’ll have to search them out tomorrow.”

  “Who are you sending to Kittington?”

  “I’ll send Alan and Mark with a request for trade. We don’t need to send a four-man crew since it’s basically a scouting mission. If they’re agreeable, do you want to go make the trade?” She asked with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind getting out of town for a bit.”

  “Are we walking or riding?” With the diesel supply reserved for the generators, they rarely drove anywhere. The vehicles were restricted to large supply runs.

  “If we start early in the day, I think we can walk it. If the booty is too much, maybe we can have someone there ride us back and we’ll replenish their diesel. Should be in and out in twelve hours.”

  Mick leaned back on the sofa and stifled a yawn. “Who else is going?”

  “I don’t know yet. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Josey is going to be wide awake in a few hours and it’s your turn to wrangle her.” Sarah smiled. Her favorite thing to see in this world was Josey and Mick together. Their daughter had her father wrapped around her finger.

  “Nah, I’ll be OK.” He lifted his long legs and put his feet on the coffee table. Sarah arched an eyebrow. With a sheepish smile, he put his feet down.

  “Stretch out on the sofa,” she said, moving forward. Mick laid on the sofa, his 6’2” frame barely fitting.

  “Lay with me,” he said.

  “I have to take care of this.” She indicated the notebook on the table.

  “No, you don’t. You can do it in the morning.”

  “It is the morning.” She laughed.

  “It’s two o’clock in the morning. The time normal people sleep.” The expression on her face was painful. “At least rest with me.”

  With a loud sigh, she toed off her boots and laid next to him on the couch. He turned, spooning her, his arm around her belly. “Happy?” She asked.

  He breathed deep, her scent a part of him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes.”

  Sarah smiled. So was she.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sarah awoke to the sound of her daughter laughing. She opened her eyes, surprised to see that Mick had somehow got up from the sofa without disturbing her. She swung her feet to the floor and looked for the source of the laughter. Mick was sitting at the kitchen table, bouncing Josey on his knee. She giggled, clapping her chubby hands together.

  Sarah stood up, stretching as she walked across the room. “Hey, bug!” She said, holding out her hands. Josey made the sound they assumed meant “Mama” and lifted her arms. Sarah scooped her up.

  “How’s my girl?” Sarah balanced Josey on her hip and Josey laid her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “How did you get up without waking me?” Sarah asked Mick.

  “My secret,” he said with a wink. He got up from the table and headed to the counter. “I’ll make you a cup of tea while you feed her.”

  “You hungry, bug?” Sarah sat in the seat Mick had vacated and lifted her tee. Josey began to nurse. Sarah never thought she’d have a child let alone be comfortable breast feeding. But any formula was long since expired and besides, her baby would always have food. At least for a little while longer. Michelle said she should be weaned soon. Josey was already eating many solids, her chubby arms and legs a testament to her love of food.

  Mick assumed he would be a father someday, but when the dead rose, he was more concerned with surviving. He didn’t think he would ever have a child. It took the zombie apocalypse to meet the love of his life, the mother of his child. He watched the two of them as Josey fed. Josey had a few strands of Sarah’s auburn hair, free of its customary braid, twisted in her fingers. A few more strands laid across Josey’s head, highlighting the bright red of their daughter’s hair. “What’s happening today?” He asked as he put the cup of tea in front of Sarah.

  “I need to send Alan and Mark to Kittington. I want to check with Troy and Annie about these new arrivals. I think I have a turn on gate duty.” Sarah took a sip of her tea, wincing when Josey bit a little too hard.

  “What’s on my schedule?” He asked as the lamp on the end table flickered on. It was 7:00 a.m., the time when the generators kicked on every day.

  “Your daughter,” Sarah laughed. Josey was biting more than usual. “OK, bug, that’s enough.” Sarah pulled her from her breast and tugged her shirt back down.

  “Da!” Josey reached out for Mick.

  Mick took her as Sarah finished her tea. “What are we feeding her today?”

  Sarah shrugged. “See what’s available. We can eat what she doesn’t.” Since refrigeration was still only available in one building, they were unable to keep food in the apartment more than a day or two. Often, the three of them ate carrots or peas or some other food that was easy to mash up for Josey. Most days, they ate in the communal dining room, where Donna made meals for anyone who cared to eat. But at least once a week, they ate alone as a family.

  Sarah finished her tea and took her cup to the sink. She poured a tiny bit of water from the jug into the cup and rinsed it, then set it in the drainer. “I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.” Dropping a kiss on Josey’s head, she went to the bathroom where she quickly braided her hair and brushed her teeth. In the bedroom, she strapped on her holster. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out a box locked with a combination. She spun the dials and pulled out her Glock, tucking it into the holster. She grabbed the knife and sheath, clipping them on her belt. The walkie talkie sat on the nightstand, where she put it every night, volume turned low so as not to disturb Josey. She clipped it on her belt next to the knife. By the time she was done, Mick and Josey were both dressed for the weather, Josey looking like a pink marshmallow in her winter coat. “Let’s go, guys.” She picked up her ever-present note pad from the table and tucked it in her back pocket. She grabbed her jacket on the way out the door.

  The sun was barely up and the morning air was cold. They moved quickly from their building, Ash, to Shaun, where the refrigerators were kept. They had found some solar panels and were looking for more, hoping to get each building its own set. For now, they used the juice from the solar array to keep the power in Shaun on 24/7. They could have lived in that building, but Sarah was happy in Ash. He was, after all, one of her favorite movie characters.

  There were two apartments on the first floor, which originally held four. One was their medical area, complete with exam rooms, where April and Michelle took care of everything from the flu to broken bones. Luckily, they hadn’t seen anything more serious. They really weren’t equipped for much else. The second apartment was their kitchen. In both, walls had been strategically removed, the work supervised by Bobby. The medical area was converted to a small waiting area, three exam
rooms and two “hospital” rooms. In the kitchen, most walls were removed, except those needed for support. Refrigerators and freezers lined two of the three walls of the large room, while the fourth held a counter with propane stoves and a dumbwaiter designed by Bobby to move food from the kitchen to the communal dining room on the second floor. In the center of the room was a large island, complete with a sink that had to be manually filled and drained and cabinets for storage. It was at that counter in what used to be apartment 1A that they found Donna, sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

  “’Morning,” she said as they walked in. She smiled at Josey. “Hey, Josey girl!” Josey babbled happily.

  “How’s things today?” Sarah asked.

  “Well, I don’t know, since you’re the first in this morning as usual and nothing has happened yet.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Things are fine,” Donna said. “I did an inventory last night and we’re still good on most everything. Susan wanted to try and make some cheese with some of the milk; I told her to check with you.”

  “Are we getting a lot of milk?” Mick asked.

  “Three cows don’t produce a hell of a lot, but it sure would be nice to have some cheese.”

  “I’ll talk to her.” Sarah pulled her notepad from her back pocket. “We’re low on fruit, so I’m going to see if we can trade with Kittington. Anything else you think we need?”

  Donna shook her head. “Meat’s good, veggies are good. The last scavenging crew even managed to find a huge stockpile of flour on their last run. It was in a bakery and sealed up in giant metal canisters. I’ll have to sift it; there were a few bugs in it, but it’ll be nice to have some biscuits or the like.”

  “Sure would,” Mick said. He missed bread. He missed a lot of things, but bread was high on the list.