Zombified (Book 1): The Head Hunter Read online

  “Well, we need her as strong as possible for her transition when the time comes. Make sure someone gets some food and water for the girl.”

  “Yes, sir,” the young Rev soldier responded.

  Jenkins stood up and turned to leave. “And make it quick.”

  ***

  Great Smoky Mountains

  July 2027

  The Dead Zone

  Joshua and Mark raced through the woods in the remaining Humvee. They hadn’t even bothered to pack up the camp, in such a hurry that all they did manage to throw into the back of the vehicle were the remainder of their weapons they had left behind when going to meet the Zeta Squad. Well, what they thought had been them at the time. Joshua sat in the passenger seat as Mark drove, weaving through the trees and up the mountain in the direction he vaguely remembered from scouring the maps of the terrain. Mark refused to look back. He could hear the one Barbarian on the ATV, and he knew the other two would be running alongside it or just behind it. Because they seemed to be Stage One Barbarians, they didn’t have wings yet, which he was thankful for.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joshua turn his head back to look behind them, a look of worry crossing his face when he turned back to look out the windshield.

  “Mark, ya may wanna put the pedal to the metal, buddy. They’re gaining on us,” he said in a calm tone, somehow shouting without actually projecting his voice in such a way.

  Mark glanced up at the rearview mirror, seeing that his friend was right. The ATV was no more than ten feet from their back bumper. The other two Barbarians were hot on his tail. His eyes averted back to his surroundings, and his heart rate picked up in panic. They had to lose them somehow or end up like the rest of their team.

  “Yeah, I see that,” he responded.

  There wasn’t anything else he could say besides that. He knew in the same way Joshua did, and all he could do was keep driving and avoiding trees in an effort to throw their pursuers off their trail entirely. What looked to be an old dirt road peeked out from between the tall pines and Mark knew he might have found an opening for escape if they could get just lost enough. He had no idea where it led, but that didn’t matter anymore if they were going to make it to the Head Hunter alive.

  “Hang onto something!” Mark shouted as he jerked the wheel to the right.

  Joshua slid slightly in his seat as his hand shot out to grip the handle above the door and press the other on the dashboard. The Humvee nearly careened off the dirt road and into the trees again, but Mark managed to correct the vehicle by maneuvering the wheel slightly to the left. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by the back tires as they squealed at the sudden and sharp turn. The Humvee righted itself and they were off again, the engine roaring in their ears. Hope at an escape from the Barbarians chasing after them bloomed in his chest.

  Joshua started to laugh and said, “I think we might make it.”

  Their hopes were dashed by the sound of rapid gunfire and bullets as they pinged off the metal of their haven. The windows were bulletproof as was the rest of the Humvee, but that didn’t mean something else couldn’t go wrong.

  “I think you spoke too soon,” Mark replied. Bullets assaulted the Humvee, causing Mark to wince at the grating metal on metal sound. “Jesus.”

  The onslaught of bullets continued as they drove, only protected from them as long as the materials of the vehicle held out. What sounded like a balloon popping filled the air, startling Mark, and he knew a back tire had fallen victim to the projectiles. The wheel jerked to the left hard, escaping from Mark’s grip. His hands shot back to the wheel on instinct and attempted to correct their trajectory, but it was too late. The looming pine tree came into view. Mark’s foot hit the brake, but it wouldn’t be of any use. The Humvee crashed into the trunk of the large tree, metal twisting around wood as the front end crumpled like a piece of paper. Glass shattered around them in a shower of sparkling bits, being bulletproof but not shatterproof. The impact propelled Mark into the steering wheel, and his ribs hit the column. Pain seared through his torso as a few ribs cracked on impact. Air forced its way out of his lungs and then everything went quiet, the only sounds the creaking metal, falling shards of glass, and the approaching ATV.

  “Joshua,” Mark groaned, pushing his body away from the steering wheel and turning to his friend. His entire body hurt, his chest especially, which made it harder to breathe than usual with the humid air of the southern states.

  Joshua was sitting up, a gash on his forehead and a rivulet of blood streaking down his face. His hand was raised to his forehead with a pained expression.

  “I’m fine. I’m okay,” he replied with a sob.

  Without another word, they both piled out of the Humvee and fell to the ground with a thud. Mark heard Joshua rise to his feet and round the back of the Humvee, stumbling as Mark watched his feet through the gap. Mark rose to his hands and knees, his ribs pulling painfully with a broken feeling he had never experienced before. Almost like his ribs were sliding around on the inside.

  “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here,” Joshua said over the revving engine of the approaching four-wheeler as he made his way to Mark

  Out of nowhere a large, yellow-skinned and yellow-eyed Barbarian charged Joshua. The butt of his weapon caught Joshua in the forehead, splitting his wound a little bit wider. As Joshua fell to the ground, Mark reached back toward his holster on instinct, removing the Government of Defense issued weapon. In one swift motion, he turned off the safety, rose to one knee, and aimed the pistol at Joshua’s assailant as the other Barbarian on foot came toward them with his rifle aimed at them in return.

  “Not so fast, boy,” the new one stated, his yellow eyes focused on Mark as he kneeled before them.

  Both men removed their ski masks, their jaundiced skin nearly a lovely shade of puke green in the encroaching darkness of the forest. They were dressed in the same uniforms as Mark and Joshua were, no doubt trying to fool them into believing they were on the same side so they could get close enough to drain them of their blood. But for what purpose? As far as Mark knew, they didn’t drink blood.

  Joshua was still attempting to get his bearings as the ATV approached, stopping just feet behind his comrades. The driver cut the engine, hopped off with grace, and strolled toward the young men as if he held their lives in his hands and was proud of that fact. That the two men with him would do whatever he said, but he never once removed the ski mask he wore despite the heat and humidity. Either way, you could tell who was in charge without having to even see his face.

  “What do you say we do with them?” the first one they had seen said as he nodded toward Mark and Joshua.

  Mark looked down at his friend with one hand across his ribcage as if his entire top half would slide off the lower half of his body if he let go, the pain excruciating and intense.

  The newcomer looked them both up and down and smirked.

  “I think we can use these two to set an example for G.O.D. and Station Four. What do you two think?” he said as his eyes flicked to the two men with him whose weapons were still trained on them.

  Joshua rose to his knees beside Mark but didn’t remove his weapon, only stared at their captors with indignation and swayed slightly.

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir,” the one to the right said as he let the clip in his rifle free. It fell to the ground, and he slid a new one home without even making a sound.

  He aimed his rifle again, and Mark knew he couldn’t be able to get a shot off before a bullet wound up in his chest. The clicks of both rifles readying to fire were all he could hear over the silence.

  A figure shrouded in green camo, specialized black Kevlar, and a protective jacket landed before them, his back facing Mark and Joshua. They couldn’t see his face, but Mark was confident as to who this was. The short, clipped hair and blue-tinged veins underneath his paling flesh on his hands said it all. But there wasn’t time for thinking. Only for certainty.

  The figured stepped tow
ard the two Barbarians in the front with their guns. They fired off rounds, but the man avoided them with a swiftness Mark had only seen in Revs as well as one other person he knew. Jenny had moved with that same grace in training. The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, stepping toward one Barbarian while taking the hand guard in his hand and twisting it to the side. Placing the barrel of his handgun right beneath the Barbarian’s chin, he pulled the trigger. He spun, quick and agile. The Barbarian didn’t have enough time even to attempt to protect himself. The Head Hunter placed the barrel to his temple and fired, sending brain, bone, and blood splattering against the side of the Humvee.

  The last Barbarian removed a pistol from a hip holster and a sword so elegantly hidden in a sheath underneath his jacket, twirling the blade in a show of skill as he approached the Head Hunter. The Head Hunter slid a machete from the sheath on his back with one smooth sound of metal on plastic and lashed out at the Barbarian. They exchanged blows as Joshua and Mark watched, Mark dropping his arm to his side with his firearm still gripped tightly in his sweaty palm. Slashing with his blade, the Barbarian lunged forward, and the Head Hunter jumped back, avoiding it entirely. He pointed his pistol and fired. The Barbarian jerked to the side and the bullet penetrated a tree trunk behind his head, sending splinters of wood in all directions as it passed through it with a thunk sound.

  Using that distraction, the Head Hunter swung his machete through the air and caught the Barbarian at the neck, severing his head with one blow. It landed and rolled across the ground, eyes wide as green blood soaked into the neck of the ski mask he had been wearing as it rolled to the left. When it stopped, Mark could swear it was staring straight at him with mouth gaping wide open in what he could only interpret as terror at the sight of the man in front of him. The legend they had all heard of for the last seven years without concrete evidence. Until now.

  Everything seemed to freeze at that moment, standing still in that one moment of recognition even though barely anyone had ever laid eyes on the Head Hunter before. Jenny claimed she had been one of them, but how she never knew what he looked like was beyond Mark. The man turned to them, his gray eyes barely noticeable in color as the sun still set in the distance, darkness moving through the forest on the mountain. His gaze scanned them, taking in their appearance as well as the Government of Defense issued firearms in Mark’s hand and strapped to Joshua’s hip. Even the Humvee was easily recognizable to anyone who had eyes. And this guy wasn’t blind to where they truly belonged.

  “Holy crap,” Mark exclaimed as the breath left him in the rush of a shocked gasp.

  The Head Hunter eyed him, squinting at him with a sneer on his face.

  “I knew it,” Joshua said beside him.

  “You don’t know anything, son,” the Head Hunter said as he slipped his machete back into its home on his back. “Why are you out here? I can tell you’re from the Station nearby. Don’t you people typically stay inside the walls?”

  “We were sent out here,” Mark replied.

  “For what reason?” the Head Hunter interjected.

  Mark was taken aback by how brash and combative this man was, but could he blame him? Not after hearing about the life he lived. Even the few stories he had heard had hinted at this man being a hardened cynic which, so far, was completely true.

  “To find you,” Joshua answered without skipping a beat. The sincerity in his face was almost laughable. Well, to Mark it was.

  The Head Hunter started laughing, and it was a deep from the belly laugh as if he truly felt what Joshua had just said was hilarious in retrospect. He nearly doubled over with laughter, hands on his knees as he fought to breathe past giggles. He stood up after a moment and the last chuckle trailed off into the air.

  “And why, pray tell, would they do that?” he asked, the smirk never once leaving his lips.

  “To save the Stations from the Revs. You have to know what’s happened,” Mark said.

  “I’ll give you that, but even though you think I should have doesn’t mean that I indeed have. So, if this is true and it’s not some trick cooked up by G.O.D., why would they send two newbies out here to find me? Why not send one of their soldiers or a Teacher like usual?”

  “There aren’t many left, that’s why,” Joshua retorted, the irritation plain in his tone of voice.

  The Head Hunter took a step toward them but stopped, listening to something that neither Mark nor Joshua could hear. The stories about his enhanced senses seemed to be true as well because no matter how hard Mark strained to hear, nothing stood out to him in the silence. His head jerked to the side, and his gray eyes scanned the trees around them. Then his hardened gaze turned to them, and he took a deep breath.

  “A pack of Crankers are headed this way,” he whispered to them.

  “I don’t see or hear anything,” Mark stated.

  The Head Hunter snorted in disapproval of his back talk and replied, “It doesn’t change the fact that they’re coming. They’re about twenty minutes out. The gunshots got their attention, and I’m sure there are a few out there that can sniff a human being out from miles away.”

  “What?” Joshua perked up with wide eyes at the statement. “Are ya serious?”

  “There’s no time to explain. Gather what you can and follow me, and try to keep up because I won’t be slowing down for you.”

  Chapter 17

  Near the Kentucky Dam

  July 2027

  Station 4 – Isolation Chamber

  Misty lay on the bed within the isolation chamber of Station Four, one arm hanging over the side. Completely lethargic, she could barely move, exhausted beyond anything she had ever felt in her entire life. She could hear the heartbeat of whoever stood behind the thick two-way mirror that kept her from the individual beyond it. Her mouth was nearly dry, not producing any saliva beyond the slight amount that coated the inside of her mouth and tongue. Just enough to keep it from drying out completely.

  She had been lying in the isolation room without company for what felt like days, but she was confident it had only been hours. Maybe even twelve hours, if not a few more than that, alone. At first, after speaking to Xavier Jackson about survival in their world, she had sat on the floor and listened to the sounds of everything around her. Whether large or small. No matter how minute. Her mouth hung open, drawing the cool and dry air in through the opening and down her throat, turning it into an arid desert within her body.

  She was overwhelmed, with no idea what to do with herself besides listen to what her body did and how it was changing, even if she didn’t understand it. She wanted so desperately to, but all she remembered about the changes within her was what she had learned from the Teachers in the Station she had lived in with Jenny in the weeks before. Closing her eyes, she focused inward and listened to the sounds her body made. Felt what her body did. The changes were small at first, barely noticeable, but they were turning into a tidal wave of fatigue, emotion, pain, and what she could only describe as a kind of psychological disconnect.

  Dopamine began to flood her body as she lay there, her heart racing as the neurotransmitter began to take hold. There was only one effect of the dopamine peak that she was interested in. Only one that would tell her she was no different than her mother whose paranoia and hallucinations helped the crimson fog pull her into its opaque arms seven years prior. Something that she wanted so badly to close herself off to, but was confident that she couldn’t no matter what she did. The change was coming. She could feel it coming like a tsunami, ready to wash her sanity away along with her humanity, leaving nothing behind except an empty shell of aggression, anger, and a primal instinct to feed on the blood of the innocent. Even friends who would never dream of hurting her. She worried about what would happen to her friends when they returned to Station Four and came to see her. What would she do to them if she were to get ahold of them with the thirst for their blood and the urge to spread infection running rampant through her?

  Misty turned onto he
r back, throwing out her other arm so that it slapped lazily against the concrete of the wall. The sound reminded her of dead flesh landing on solid ground, the rock of the mountains off in the distance beyond Station Four where she was confined. After over a year in the Dead Zone, it was a sound she knew well enough. She remembered it with stinging clarity and heard it every time she closed her eyes, along with the gunshots, the roars, and the screams. And now she was one of the monsters. Well, becoming one of them, and there was no going back. Not because of choice, but because of fate. Jenkins thought that changing her would make a difference, but he was disillusioned entirely. It wouldn’t change anything. They would most likely kill her once this was all said and done. She couldn’t stop it. No one could.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds her body made. Surprisingly, her heart still beat and blood still moved through her veins in a rush through her ears. The whooshing sound along with the steady thump of her heart was a reminder that infected with the Syc or not, she was still alive. In a fashion. A new sound was present since infection, though. There was a constant thrumming in her ears that she could tell resonated within her chest. It came from the same area her heartbeat did, letting her know that the new noise from within her body was from the Syc also living in her ribcage. The Syc, when it came to a Revenant state of infection, wrapped itself around the organ and drew sustenance from the blood that moved through it—hence the near constant thirst for the life force that she was still attempting to ignore.

  Air moved through her lungs. She opened her mouth and pulled it in, listening to the rush of oxygen through her airways. When she pushed it out, the carbon dioxide left in a soft whistle, leaving her lungs empty.