Flowers Vs. Zombies (Book 5) Buried Page 9
But he was already too late.
The overlord was floating down the river, the current taking him out to sea at a terrific rate, all that was visible was his black clothing. Now they’ll serve as his funeral burial clothes, Bill thought.
Bill spun round and sliced the second undead’s throat open, spilling his thick blood over the ground, to slop and congeal.
The foliage crashed again. Bill tensed. Fritz and Jack looked at Bill, and then lowered their eyes to the two undead on the jungle floor. Bill relaxed his stance.
“Where is he?” Jack said.
Bill cleaned his knife on the torn vest of the first undead. Fritz could read his father’s expression easier than a book.
“He got away?” Fritz said. “We have to get after him!”
“He has more holes in him that a block of Swiss cheese,” Bill said. “He was bleeding profusely, and there’s no medicine around here for a thousand miles. There’s no doctor either, save me, and for once, I might ignore my Hippocratic oath and leave him to his fate. Believe me, his fate will be a suitably grisly one.”
Bill was suddenly exhausted. His knife felt like it weighed as much as a car. It was over. This whole nightmare. Finally, it was over.
“Let’s get back to your mother and get home,” Bill said. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
FALCON’S NEST was all but destroyed. The majority of the farm animals had been released and now ran through the wilderness with a newfound sense of forgotten freedom. It was going to take weeks to fix what had been destroyed.
“We can start cleaning up tomorrow,” Liz said, stifling a yawn with her hand.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “Robin’s Nest will have to be our home for the time being.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay and help rebuild Falcon’s Nest,” Fritz said.
“Of course it’s all right,” Liz said. “It’s a silly question.”
“After that, we can help prepare you for your trip if you like,” Bill said.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that,” Fritz said.
Bill and Liz waited with bated breath.
“I don’t think I’ll go,” Fritz said.
“Why the change of heart?” Bill said.
“Because it takes a family to survive in this world,” Fritz said. “Not to do it alone. Maybe there are other communities out there, maybe not. But they all need Ernest’s ability to come up with plans, with Jack’s fearlessness, with your bravery, and Ma’s care, and Francis’s innocence. That’s what it takes to survive now. Not just a single person, a wanderer, but every single one of us.”
Fritz smiled, but it was resigned. It was a limp, sad thing, made all the worse by the fact it wanted to be something else, but never could.
“I guess I’ll just have to get used to being alone,” Fritz said.
Jim’s eyes flicked up, managing to focus for the first time since he had awoken.
“But you aren’t alone,” Ernest said.
He put his hand on his brother’s broad shoulder. Fritz snorted and shook his head, but he didn’t crack a joke or shrug Ernest’s hand off. He needed the contact.
This was what the end of the world looked like, Bill thought. This was what it took. A group of people coming together, using all their strengths to overcome their enemies. It bore a striking resemblance to what love looked like, a family. If they worked together there was truly nothing they couldn’t achieve.
Bill felt sorry for the next enemy they would have to confront, as he was certain they would. Fritz was right. Individually they were just people, with weaknesses that could be easily exploited. Together they were a team, complimenting one another, each other’s strengths overcoming any weaknesses they had individually.
That was what a family was. What a team was. What survival was.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
THE OVERLORD In Black was in a bad way. He felt no pain, but he didn’t need to feel pain to know when his limbs weren’t working as they should. He pulled himself out of the river and onto the land.
He couldn’t feel the sharpness of the sand, the smoothness of the rocks, nor the cold of the sea. He could feel only his blood as it drained out of him. He was weakening, fast. He needed blood donors… Lots of them.
Luckily for him, he had plenty ready and willing to give up every drop of the red gold they possessed. He reached out as far and wide as his meager sphere of influence would allow, and issued an order for all undead in the vicinity to come to him. He just needed to survive long enough for them to get to him.
He dragged himself along the beach, toward the embracing arms of a large tree. He pulled himself up, back to the tree, into a comfortable position. He reached over with his weak, heavy lead-like arms, for the reeds he found there. He gripped a handful and, with a slow, drawn-out movement, pulled them free. He drove the sharp ends into his veins. He felt nothing.
He had his slaves lift his body up and lash him to the tree. Then they inserted the opposite end of the reeds into their own veins. Their blood, dark and congealed and disgusting as it was, was all he had available to him. It would have to do. He felt their blood enter his body, meeting his organs. He would live.
The Overlord In Black blinked with new life. He saw something out at sea, coming up fast, drawing toward the island like it was on a rope pulley system. It was a ship. A big, powerful ship. Called The Red Flag.
The overlord threw back his head and barked a laugh. Just what he wanted, and just what the Flowers deserved. He just had to work on making sure he was still alive when it happened. It wasn’t the ending he depicted of the Flowers, but it would suffice.
Enjoy Buried? Then you’ll love my other books!
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Series
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Z-Minus
Resistant
Compulsion
Blood Memory
Tomorrow’s World
Plants Vs. Zombies
One-Off Novels
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Keeping Mum
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Perrin Briar is the author of the popular Blood Memory, Z-Minus and Flowers Vs. Zombies series. He makes his online home at www.perrinbriar.com. You can connect with Perrin on Twitter at @perrinbriar, on Facebook at facebook.com/perrinbriar and you should send him an email at perrin@perrinbriar.com if the mood strikes you.
Copyright © 2017 Perrin Briar
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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