Flowers Vs. Zombies (Book 6) Native Read online

  “But they’re likely to have already been vetted by the community,” Fritz said. “We’d just give it a try and see if we like it. It would make things a lot easier, don’t you think? Joining a community that has already been set up as opposed to beginning everything ourselves.”

  “If only there was somewhere we could go where we already knew the people and knew they would be safe to co-exist alongside,” Bill said. “It would be the best of both worlds.”

  “Look out!” Ernest shouted.

  Yaaaaaaaargh!

  The undead broke through the undergrowth with surprising speed, and reached up for Jack, who had been in the process of descending from a tree. He was within clawing range. If Jack let go and fell to the ground the undead would have him for sure.

  But instead of letting go as most people would have, Jack scaled up the tree. The undead had already fell to its knees in preparation of falling upon Jack’s prostrate body. It hadn’t counted on Jack climbing so fast.

  Bill was on the undead figure within a split second, and slammed his knife into the side of its head. Razor sharp accuracy thanks to his knowledge of the human body.

  Another two Lurchers erupted from the foliage, on the other side of the clearing. Fritz pushed his undead back, its pace gone at having lost its footing.

  Ernest brought his cudgel around, smacking his undead in the ribs, breaking at least two, before it stumbled and fell over. He raised his cudgel to deliver the killing blow.

  “Wait,” Bill said.

  His two sons, well trained, restrained themselves, and held their weapons in position, never taking their eyes from their undead charges.

  “What for?” Ernest said.

  Bill approached the undead and sliced a deep gash in each undead’s legs, sending them flopping to the ground.

  “Training,” Bill said. “Jack, come down here. Fritz, Ernest. Can you keep an eye out for us please?”

  They didn’t reply. They didn’t need to. They were all well aware of what each other was doing. It was like they had become a single entity, knowing what each other was doing before they even began to do it.

  “Jack,” Bill said. “Come show me how to slice the proximal bicep tendons.”

  Jack withdrew his knife and slowly approached the undead writhing on the ground.

  “Careful now,” Bill said.

  It was too easy for the undead characters to turn, trip them up, and render them in a dangerous situation. Bill emphasized the need for caution at all times. Jack bent his knees, keeping himself as low to the ground as he could without dropping to his hands. A stronger base of support.

  Bill sidled up close to him, knife ready to bring down on the undead at a moment’s notice.

  “Easy now,” Bill said.

  The undead kept trying to get to his feet, but it was no good, he had no use of his left leg, and every time he tried to get to his feet, he only flopped over to one side.

  “Pin him,” Bill said.

  Jack extended his leg and pressed down on the undead’s chest. It bent its head forward but couldn’t reach Jack’s boot, never mind his flesh.

  “Good,” Bill said. “Now the cut. Remember, quick, fast and efficient.”

  Jack located the tendon and pressed his knife into the creature’s flesh, slicing through with ease. The undead’s arm went floppy, just as its leg had.

  “Remember,” Bill said. “This is for practice purposes only. You aren’t to take this risk when I’m not here with you. Ever. Is that understood? Ideally, you’ll always be able to take a Lurcher out quickly and without need to slice through tendons. But there’s always the chance one of these guys might take you by surprise and fall upon you. In which case, it’d be useful to utilize such strategies to take them out, incapacitate them so you can get away to safety.

  “Always go for the killing blow if you can, but sometimes you might be unable to. That’s when this training will come in handy. Ernest, you’re up next.”

  “They looked like they knew what they were doing, didn’t they, Pa?” Jack said.

  Bill had thought the same thing, but how could that be? The Overlord In Black was dead. They had seen him get swept off by the river. And he had been full of bullet holes. There was no way someone could survive an ordeal such as that, was there?

  Except he isn’t human, a voice in the back of Bill’s head whispered.

  It was difficult for Bill to think of the undead, overlords or otherwise, as anything but human. They were so similar to himself. They looked the same, acted roughly the same. There was no way to think of them as any different. And yet they were different.

  By the time the Flowers were done, the undead looked like a butcher had been at them. Sliced and diced.

  Chapter Four

  THE OVERLORD In Black slammed the palm of his hand hard against a root that protruded at a right angle from the tree, shaping his current resting place into a throne. In his mind it had been a powerful blow, but had in fact been extremely weak, barely sending any tremors up his arms. He felt weak. He needed a new donor.

  Of course, ‘donor’ was a bit of a misnomer when the overlord took it from his subjects without recourse to asking permission. Dotted about him were the mutilated, barren bodies of the undead who had sacrificed themselves and their blood—such as it was.

  Unfortunately, undead blood was not good blood. It was difficult for him to heal the injuries he’d sustained, and so he had to replace his undead donors frequently, as they could not replenish their own blood supply.

  Another of his slaves tottered on his feet and hit the deck. No blood seeped from his body. He was drained dry. The next undead in line stepped up, shoved the reed into his arm without preamble and his blood, thick and congealed, began to slowly flow through the reed and into the Overlord In Black’s body. He shivered upon contact.

  This was what he had been reduced to. This quivering, useless sack of meat, depending on the slaves that he commanded in order to survive. The only other option open to him he had never seriously considered. He could end the pain and suffering right then, could do it in a matter of seconds, by gripping the reeds and pulling them from his arm, letting his slaves’ blood pool on the ground. Alternatively, he could order his pets to tear him to pieces. They would do it, without hesitation. It would be faster, at least, but there was something about it that he despised, the idea of handing himself over to his lower-class brethren.

  No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—do it. In all honesty, the thought rarely crossed his mind. But he wished he could do it, could be reborn so he might try it all again. If he could, would he have done it any differently? No. This was who he was. This was what he did. He would get his revenge before the end—before his end.

  That was when the Overlord In Black hatched his scheme for how he would punish the family once he got his hands on them. Their blood. They would provide him with the blood he required. That would be how they would spend the rest of their days—sustaining his life, allowing him to heal and get strong again, so he might leave this place. He would suck them dry, until they had nothing left in their veins but poisoned memories.

  The Overlord In Black let himself run the thought through his mind. He would leave them with just enough blood to recover, and once they were strong enough again, he would drain them again. Theirs would be a life lived to sustain him. In his own mind there was no greater honor. They weren’t good enough to lick his boots, but he would give them this honor at least.

  But he had a problem.

  An overlord was only as powerful as the number of undead he had at his disposal. He had wasted entirely too many of his forces on the family, particularly when he’d attacked them on the beach. He should have acted quicker, should have shut them down as fast as he was able.

  Next time, he wouldn’t be so slow. Next time, he wouldn’t be so lenient. Next time, they would all die. Painfully.

  Chapter Five

  BILL AND THE BOYS returned home trailing two goats, one sheep, four pigs and t
wo piglets. They had been very docile, and hadn’t panicked when the family had approached them. They knew they would be well treated.

  The family moved around the back of Falcon’s Nest to the farm where their farm was located. They had quickly fixed the fences, knowing they would need to act fast if they wanted to contain their livestock again.

  Liz, Francis and Jim had begun clearing the area, moving the less heavy items out of the way. The equipment that could be washed and used again, would be, and an inventory would be made of the objects that were missing. They didn’t have any heavy duty electronic goods, so they should be able to replace it.

  Once they were done and the animals were watered and fed, the family moved around to the clearing. It was anything but clear. Bodies still dotted much of the landscape, but it was at least beginning to look like their old home again.

  Liz was heating up some soup she’d put together at the last minute, throwing everything they had into a pot and boiling it. It was the only thing she had time to make. It was easy to reheat too whenever they were hungry.

  The boys took a seat. Some of the chair legs had been broken. They’d replaced them with lengths of wood, metal or plastic from other items that had been destroyed.

  Bill approached Liz and hugged her from behind. She reacted by leaning her head back. Bill said something in her ear and Liz laughed. They kissed, as a married couple would in polite society, gently, softly, on the lips.

  “Disgusting, isn’t it?” Ernest said. “I wish they wouldn’t do things like that while we’re around. It’s child abuse.”

  “Yeah,” Fritz said, though he sounded distracted. “Horrible.”

  In truth, Fritz couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than what his parents had. He knew how lucky he was to have his brothers, but it wasn’t the same as an emotional relationship with a girl.

  This was one of the main reasons Fritz had considered heading out on his own and finding a community. The promise of building a future with someone. He had decided to stay because it was the best thing to do at that moment, but perhaps not in the long run. Fritz was of the age where he was interested in girls and needed to socialize. But he wasn’t going to get to do that anytime soon.

  “Good evening,” Jim said, taking a seat at the table.

  He had improved a lot after he had—finally—woken up. The boys liked to tease him that he seemed to wake up at the best possible moment—right after they had done all the hard work and removed the Overlord In Black from the island.

  Jim’s motor skills appeared to be working fine. He’d been helping Liz and Francis with tidying up Falcon’s Nest, despite Bill telling him to take it easy. He was still physically weak, and wore a bandage around his head from where he’d taken the blow that had knocked him unconscious. He was smiling and in good spirits.

  “Is it good?” Fritz said.

  “Well, it’s not bad, is it?” Jim said. “Much better than it could be—or has been lately.”

  Fritz couldn’t fault him on that. There had been a great deal of tumultuousness in the past few days. He was just glad it was finally all behind them.

  “Jim, I wanted to ask you something,” Ernest said. “Now that you’re awake.”

  “Sure,” Jim said.

  “When you were unconscious, you kept saying the same word over and over,” Ernest said. “‘Chow’. What does it even mean?”

  “I was trying to warn you,” Jim said. “I wasn’t in my right state of mind and couldn’t tell you directly. After all, Rupert or Manuel might have overheard me. They would decide to put me down for good. You’re aware of the Chinese game Mahjong?”

  “Of course,” Ernest said. “I figured as much. Chow is when you dispose of your weakest tiles to try and get a stronger hand.”

  “Right,” Jim said.

  “So the meaning is about taking care when listening to Rupert?” Ernest said. “Pretty abstract, don’t you think?”

  “I was in a coma,” Jim said. “How clear thinking do you think I was capable of?”

  “Jim’s right,” Bill said, carrying a tray laden with steaming bowls. “It’s remarkable he managed to get anything out.”

  “Something clearer would have been better,” Ernest muttered.

  “I thought you were meant to be good at puzzles and these kinds of things?” Jim said.

  “I would be,” Ernest said. “Except I didn’t know who you were, why you were saying a Chinese board game rule or even what you were referring to. It’s hardly surprising I couldn’t figure it out.”

  “I’m sure I could have done if I were in your shoes,” Jim said.

  Ernest looked up and locked eyes on Jim. The challenge was a direct insult on Ernest’s intelligence, something he would not put up with from anyone, especially not a former pirate.

  “No one could have figured it out,” Ernest said. “No one.”

  “I could,” Jim said.

  Their eyes met. Jim did not look away, the glare and unflinching grey eyes not backing down. The challenge was obvious.

  Ernest sucked between his teeth and bent down to dig into his stew.

  “I wanted to help you all,” Jim said, finally turning away and shifting his eyes to the rest of the family. “I was in a coma, but I was aware of things. I can’t recall specifically what, just a few snatches of conversation here and there, a fuzzy image. But I was aware of you. You were always good to me. Rupert and Manuel are ruthless, and I didn’t want them to do to you what I knew they would, given enough time.”

  Ernest’s anger melted away, though he retained it, in the background, just beneath the surface, to spring forth at a moment’s notice.

  “Thank you,” Bill said. “We appreciate your help.”

  Jim smiled back, of genuine enjoyment. It was in that moment, a flash of Jim’s grinning teeth, that Ernest frowned. Jim glanced back at Ernest, saw the look on his face, and then lowered his eyes back down to his bowl of soup. He continued eating.

  Ernest had a new splinter in his mind. He had failed to fully understand the ‘chow’ puzzle, but he would not fail this one. He’d seen that smile somewhere before. But where?

  Chapter Six

  JIM HEADED into the jungle, to the toilet. Their privy was destroyed when the boys had opened fire at it, spraying the area with bullets. There were so many holes in it that it might as well have been made of Swiss cheese.

  Ernest wasn’t about to take any risks, not when the safety of his family was at stake. They might have believed Jim was trustworthy, but it was not something Ernest was willing to accept. He needed cold hard evidence to prove his reliability, and so far as Ernest was concerned, they hadn’t received enough of that yet.

  Jim could still be working with Rupert and Manuel. They had only Francis’s word that they had run off into the foliage. There were too many loose ends for Ernest’s liking. He preferred for things to be fully resolved, for the answers to be obvious and clear, not open to interpretation. That was how a puzzle got solved. You most certainly never lowered your guard against it. He fingered the knife at his waist and followed Jim into the jungle.

  Ernest crouched down low and took one step after another deeper into the jungle. Jim wouldn’t have gone far. He would want to stay where the others could come rescue him if he suddenly started screaming and shouting. The undead were still out in the world and there was every chance they were still in the vicinity.

  Ernest took another step into the jungle. The leaves crunched underfoot. He took another step forward, and another, arching his neck this way and that, using every creeping skill he had mastered over the past year.

  “Can I help you?” a voice said.

  Ernest near jumped out of his skin. He put a hand on his chest to steady his racing heart.

  “You shouldn’t creep up on people like that!” he said.

  Jim arched an eyebrow and folded his arms.

  “And what are you doing out here?” he said.

  “Just admiring the view,” Ernest said lamely.


  “Sure,” Jim said. “And I’m the King of Spades.”

  “That’s funny,” Ernest said. “Because I’ve got a club that’s dying to make your acquaintance.”

  “Haven’t you seen my head?” Jim said. “I’ve already seen a club. It didn’t end well.”

  “You should give them a second chance,” Ernest said.

  “First impressions are all that matter,” Jim said.

  Ernest took a step back. They could go on like this for hours if he didn’t say something to stop it now. He held up his hands.

  “Look,” he said. “I know all of this might seem a bit of a shock to you, but we’re a real family here. We need to protect ourselves.”

  “You saw off Rupert and Manuel,” Jim said. “And the Overlord In Black, I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

  “So far,” Ernest said. “But the most dangerous things are prone to be those that get close to us, so close that we don’t even notice they’re there, and then one day, they strike. But that isn’t going to happen. Because I’m watching you. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t trust you.”

  “You do know who I am,” Jim said.

  He looked up at Ernest with his big eyes, and a collection of Ernest’s grey brain cells shivered into being again. There was something in them that he had seen before…

  But the memory once again slipped through his fingers.

  “I’m Jim,” Jim said, before giving Ernest a small smile. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about with me, Ernest. Really, you don’t. But I can understand why you feel the way you do. If I were in your shoes I would probably feel the same. So, keep your eye on me if you want. But I’m not going to do anything that would ever harm this family. They’re too important to me. Now, shall we get back home or do you want to waste even more time?”

  A pair of voices caught their attention. One Ernest recognized immediately—his father. The other was foreign, strange and unknown. Ernest pushed the foliage aside. It was a woman, an Asian woman. She was walking with their father.