Flowers Vs. Zombies (Book 5) Buried Read online

  “Yes,” Ernest said. “We’re just a game to him.”

  “Jack, Ernest, you concentrate on getting the chest open,” Liz said. “Fritz and I will deal with these monsters.”

  “Oh, you will, will you?” a voice said.

  A Lurcher stepped from the jungle. The voice that came from the dead body was croaky and difficult to understand.

  The family stood, slack jawed. They had never heard an undead speaking before, only grunt and groan, had assumed they couldn’t speak. The creature’s vocal chords were shredded, its muscles around its mouth and chin damaged beyond repair.

  “Excuse me,” the creature said.

  He stepped back, and another undead body stepped forward. He cleared his throat and spoke in a clearer voice.

  “Hello,” he said. “Yes, that’s better. So, you’re going to deal with me, are you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE UNDEAD stepped into the sunlight, revealing a gruesome sight, something that should never have to be seen in daytime, but restricted to the realm of nightmares. This sight was unlike any the family had seen of the undead before.

  They emerged as one, skin pale and cracked, peeling, blood dried to a deep purple. It was hard not to be chilled to the bone by such a thing. If this was the latest development in the psyche of humanity, and had been out in the world this whole time, having only now reached their blessed shores, how could the world of tomorrow hope to ever recover?

  The mind boggled. But the Flowers were close to unearthing the solution to their problem: superior firepower. It was the only way to tip the scales in their favor.

  They couldn’t stand around waiting for the Lurchers to come take it from him. They wouldn’t let them. They couldn’t. Not if they wanted to survive.

  “You’ll never defeat them all by yourselves,” Ernest said.

  “We don’t need to defeat them,” Liz said. “Only hold them back.”

  “For us to get this thing open,” Ernest said, nodding. “I understand.”

  “We’ll try to buy us some time,” Liz said.

  “What if there’s nothing in here?” Jack said, looking at the chest.

  “Then this is where we make our last stand,” Liz said. “And try to get rid of as many of these things as we can so your father and Francis won’t have to face so many of them.”

  They all nodded, solemn. They carried hope that the box contained the guns promised to them. If they weren’t…

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  The zombies had approached their position and now stood waiting, milling around, eyes—those with eyes—fixed firmly on every movement they made. They were waiting for them. And the thought, that knowledge, brought a shiver up Liz’s back. It would have brought a shiver up anyone’s back, she was sure.

  “What are they waiting for?” Fritz said.

  “They want to talk to us,” Liz said.

  Fritz didn’t say a word, but she could see the same shiver of fear travel up his spine too.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  “Slowly,” Liz said. “The more time we give your brothers, the better.”

  They walked side by side, making slow but steady progress toward the waiting demons. There was so much Liz wanted to say to her eldest son, so many things that needed to be expressed, so many emotions to tumble out of her mouth and mess up with clumsy words ill-equipped to describe such beautiful, terrifying and powerful emotions.

  Liz couldn’t face them, not today. Probably not any day, until the day it was too late. She looked at Fritz out the corner of her eye, taking in the fine young man who so took after her husband that they could have been clones thirty years apart. And, just like his father, he noticed when Liz tightened her grip on her cudgel, preparing for the surprise attack they would deliver.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SOMETIMES being at a disadvantage with numbers wasn’t really a disadvantage at all. Those with greater numbers had to be more aware of each other, were at risk with wide sweeping movements. It was this Liz sought to take advantage of.

  She roared and swung her cudgel around, sweeping through great swathes of the undead, aiming low and taking out their legs, taking out their knees, which were weak and easily destroyed. The rotting flesh gave way like there was nothing there.

  The Overlord In Black might have imbued them with a strong dose of intelligence, but they were still the same rotten corpses they had always been. There was no way of making them physically stronger, not once they had passed a certain point, and these had long ago passed that stage.

  Once they had made the full range of movement of sweeping out their legs, they then brought their weapons round at head height—the new head height as the creatures were now on their knees, their cudgels finding their skulls and knocking them aside.

  The family had had more than their fair share of fighting the undead over the months. When not faced with giant hordes, they went on regular hunts. They could be stealthy, sniping the undead one at a time, but right now called for less subtle tactics.

  They had survived against a frenzying horde, as well as the Spinners. They could most certainly defend themselves against this small contingent of undead. At least that was what Liz told herself. That was perhaps what would surprise the Overlord In Black most—the fact they were extremely good fighters. It wasn’t something Rupert and Manuel had seen with their own eyes, so there was little chance this smart undead could know either.

  Liz and Fritz were making good progress when the undead suddenly changed their tactics.

  They came at Liz and Fritz one by one. On the surface, it seemed like a stupid tactic, but in reality it negated their wide swinging plan. After they swung broadly, it left them open to attack on either side so one of the undead could slip in behind.

  Suddenly the wide sweeping maneuver was a disadvantage. They couldn’t keep up their assault the way they were going. They needed to be more specific, more controlled, in their attacks. They shifted their weight, altered their body positions and held their cudgels with both hands, one at either end of the smooth sticks, to allow them to thrust forward into their enemy’s faces, cracking open their skulls like they were weak shelled eggs.

  It made a satisfying Splat! Splat! Splat! noise. But Liz and Fritz had to keep moving backward, shifting position as they hopped and thrust forward in a rhythm they had mastered over the course of many such encounters. It was hard work, but effective.

  They were getting pushed farther and farther back, no way for them to stop the horde in their relentless onslaught. Liz felt the sand shift beneath her feet. They were on the beach. It meant they didn’t have far to go before they would be back where Jack and Ernest were digging at the treasure chest. If they got there before they were able to hold the undead back, there would be no chance they could prevent them from overrunning them. Then they would never hold the undead back.

  They needed to hold them back here, or else they would stand no chance. Liz couldn’t speak to the boys, for fear the Overlord In Black would overhear and understand them. They would be in even greater danger. The undead overlord would alter his plan and attack accordingly. It was another element of engagement with this new intelligent enemy that they hadn’t had to face in the past.

  She risked a glance back at the boys busy digging. They were using their hands, scrabbling for something. Ernest held his cudgel high above his head and was using it to smash at something on the front of the chest. A lock.

  They were close. They just needed a little more time.

  Surviving in the new world was like trying to make the smallest number of sacrifices at all times. Sometimes a sacrifice was necessary, and if they had to make it, then they would to do it in a way that meant they would preserve as much as possible.

  Armed with modern weapons, Jack and Ernest, no matter how inexperienced they were, could hold the undead back. And if it cost her and Fritz’s life to keep them, as well as Bill and Francis, alive, would she make th
at sacrifice? For herself, yes. For Fritz…

  They were obligated to do so. It was an unspoken pact between all family members. They had agreed to it long before they had made any verbal agreement to do so. It was simply something understood, and when Liz gave her next order, she didn’t need to explain herself to him, didn’t need to do anything but express what it was she wanted to do.

  “We have to wipe out as many of these things as we can,” Liz said.

  “I thought that was what we were doing,” Fritz said.

  “No,” Liz said. “We were working to keep all of us alive. But the time has come to work like we might not come back after this.”

  Fritz looked Liz up and down, checked her expression, and then nodded. He understood what she was asking. They stood beside one another, a healthy distance apart, and prepared to carry out an aggressive offensive to defeat as many of these undead as they could, so Jack and Ernest would have a better chance of survival.

  They swung their cudgels, the tips of their weapons passing within an inch of one another. They swung harder, faster, gaining speed so their cudgels were a blur. Liz and Fritz had to take a step back in order to counter the weight distribution. The knotted ends of their cudgels were strong and cracked open the undead skulls, fracturing bones.

  The Overlord In Black was going to come up with a tactic to get around them, through them, or otherwise get to their soft flesh. Liz knew it would not be easy. She and Fritz wouldn’t allow it to be easy. Then they began to trickle through the whirling, swirling shield that they had put up around themselves.

  A clawed hand reached to snatch at them, but was rebuffed, knocked back. Then a bloodied foot, a fractured skull that had taken a blow but had, somehow, despite a green pus oozing from its wound, continued to move forward.

  Liz looked over at her son, at the son who had said he was going to leave them, the sweat running down his face. She knew her face looked the same if she could have seen it from the same vantage.

  He was prepared to give up his hopes, his dreams of travelling away from the island, to get somewhere safe, somewhere he could live his own life, just to save his brothers’ lives. The undead were getting closer, and they were slowing down. How could they not? They could not hope to keep up with that ferocious speed for long.

  The groans grew louder, thick and voluminous. There was no way they could ignore them. They were getting closer, to the point where they could bite them. Liz let out a whimper as she smelled their reeking breath. She pushed her body harder, whirling her weapon through the air, a blur. It made a loud whooshing sound as it passed through the air.

  They were doomed. Any second now the undead would spill through their defenses and they would not be unable to hold them back.

  Blam! Blam blam blam!

  The bodies of a dozen undead imploded upon themselves, bending inward and exploding in a thousand shards. They hit the ground.

  Liz looked over her shoulder to see Jack armed with a gun, a pistol, pulling the trigger and blowing away the undead. Ernest was loading his own rifle. He ran to join Jack. The look on the undeads’ faces was priceless. They looked confused. That was then replaced with anger as they realized they were not going to feed today.

  Evidently the Overlord In Black was not one to give up easily, if at all. He pushed his monsters forward, faster, harder, with greater conviction. He was doubling down, pushing his undead at the family with every ounce of conviction he possessed.

  But it was a losing position and, as Ernest unloaded into the front row of undead, it didn’t matter that he was a terrible shot, the rifle rising up as he fired, because each bullet that did strike home tore through the undead bodies and slammed into those behind, maximizing potential damage over and over.

  Liz and Fritz rested their sore arms and let the boys take over. Their arms felt like wood. Liz lost her grip and her cudgel fell from her fingertips, lodging itself into the soft sand.

  It wasn’t long before Ernest and Jack had wiped out the attack. They were alone once again on the beach. They had survived.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  BILL GASPED, spewing a mouthful of seawater. He took a couple of deep breaths and got his bearings, checking round himself for Francis. He found him doggy paddling behind him.

  “Francis,” Bill said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Francis said.

  “Follow me,” Bill said. “We’re heading to shore. Can you swim okay?”

  “I got my hundred meter swimming certificate before we left Chucerne,” Francis said.

  Bill took this to mean he could make it.

  “Can you see Jim?” he said.

  He’d lost his grip on the boy when they’d entered the mouth of the cave entrance.

  “There!” Francis said, risking a gesture with one hand. “Over there!”

  Jim was a torn collection of rags that floated face down in the water.

  “Oh God, no,” Bill said.

  He rushed to the body and hastily turned it over. He wrapped his arm strongly, but carefully, around the boy’s neck. Jim coughed and unconsciously spewed the seawater from his esophagus.

  Bill let out a breath of relief. He was going to be okay. But they still needed to get to the land as fast as they were capable. He had hold of Jim in one arm, keeping his head above the water. He swam slowly, so as not to get too far ahead of his youngest son. Francis moved slowly with his doggy paddle, but was making good progress. He didn’t look very tired while he did it. Perhaps it was an underrated swimming style.

  The coast wasn’t far, and soon Bill found his feet on the seafloor. He turned and waited for Francis to swim alongside him. He had to keep swimming a little further before he could put his own feet down.

  They waded until they got to the beach. Bill dragged Jim’s body along the sand, his shoeless heels leaving a trail through the damp sand. Bill lay his body down and checked his airways were clear. The young cabin boy was strong. Bill wasn’t entirely sure if the boy would one day wake up, especially without the advantage of modern technology, but he would try his utmost to help him.

  They’d had a near escape. If it wasn’t for Francis, well, Bill didn’t like to think what they would be going through right now. His thoughts drifted to the rest of his family on the other side of the island. He hoped they were okay.

  His thoughts were interrupted by distant popping sounds. He couldn’t help but grin. They’d found them. They had the weapons! And Jim hadn’t just been talking in his feverish state.

  “What’s that?” Francis said.

  “Guns,” Bill said. “They found them.”

  “That’s good, right?” Francis said.

  “It’s great,” Bill said.

  “Then why do you look sad?” Francis said.

  “Because it means they are shooting at someone,” Bill said. “They’re in danger.”

  “I hope they’ll be all right,” Francis said.

  “I’m sure they will be,” Bill said. “They have your mother. She can be fierce when she wants to be. Now, we just have to get somewhere safe, to hide, for your mother and brothers to find us. We have to make sure to keep away from the bad men as much as we can.”

  “We’re not all that bad,” a voice behind them said.

  Bill turned to see who it was. The blood drained from his face.

  “Nice to see you again, little one,” the voice said.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “MAN, DO I love this thing!” Jack said, holding the pistol in both hands. “Beats sticks, that’s for sure!”

  Liz pulled it from him.

  “Maybe,” Liz said. “But you’re not to use it when it’s not absolutely necessary.”

  “Aw,” Jack said, screwing up his face.

  Nips reached for the gun too.

  “Even Nips can use it,” Liz said. “But that doesn’t mean we ought to give it to him.”

  Jack didn’t take offense at being compared to a monkey, as Liz knew he wouldn’t. To him they were equal w
ith one another. At least, Nips was. But she wasn’t about to let Jack, let alone Nips, have access to a dangerous weapon such as this.

  “You should come look at the treasure,” Ernest said. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before—even in the movies!”

  The treasure chest was packed to the rim with weapons. Guns, lots of them. They were shiny, brand new like they’d just come from the manufacturer. Liz’s lips curled. She didn’t like such things, but what other choice did they have when the undead simply would not leave them in peace?

  They needed to up their game, needed to tilt the scales in their favor. They simply would not put up with this any longer. They needed to make a stand and shout from the hilltops that they were a force to be reckoned with. They would be a beacon that would echo across the continent of Asia and perhaps even further. Others would hear of their achievements, that there was a place that could defend itself. They would rebuild and create something great.

  “Can you believe this has been here this whole time?” Fritz said. “I swear I’ve walked past this place a thousand times and I never knew it was here.”

  “You can’t find what’s buried beneath the surface without digging,” Liz said with a shrug.

  “I know,” Fritz said. “But it could have made fighting the undead a lot easier this whole time, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Liz said. “But then, we might have developed an over-reliance on them. Then we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves so well armed only with cudgels and knives.”

  “This means it’s over now, right?” Jack said. “So long as we have these weapons, we’ll be able to beat the smart one anytime we want.”

  “Ha!” a laugh, hacked and bloody and wet and violent, came from the heap of undead bodies Jack and Ernest had laid to rest.

  The family shared a look, checking to make sure they had all heard it. They moved to the pile and, using their bloody cudgels, pushed at the bodies, knocking them aside. And there, packed between an obese Filipino and white teenage boy, was a face, mangled, eyes rolling, blood seeping from the crater in his skull.