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  ZOMBIE WORLD

  DEATH SQUAD | BOOK FOUR

  Charlie Dalton

  PROLOGUE

  Today, Francis became a man, and he turned out to be a far more dangerous man than he expected.

  The door screeched open, clinging to the sides like a child that didn’t want to go to school. Francisco Still—Francis to his exclusive group of friends—stepped into the hotel foyer and breathed in a deep lungful of air. He held his hands on his hips and took it in.

  A janitor swabbed the floor and tugged a yellow rag out of his back pocket to rub a smudge off a bronze statue. A boy in a miniature sailor’s outfit ran for the revolving door, slipping inside before his father could stop him. A young woman in a smart beige suit, perfectly primped and permed, approached the front desk, but a man waiting in a box chair to one side got to her first. As he wrapped his arm around her waist, he spotted the gold band on his finger and removed it with a well-practiced move before ushering her toward the elevators.

  A city bustling with life and stories. And today, Francis expected to add to those stories. This is it, he thought to himself. This is how you live life.

  “I don’t get it,” Meryl said, stepping up beside Francis. “Two days off a year and you go to the cinema? If I had your youth, I wouldn’t be wasting it in no cinema.”

  “What’s age got to do with it?” Stu struggled with shutting the squeaky elevator doors behind him. “You’re forty, married with kids, and you still wouldn’t waste it in a cinema.”

  Meryl shrugged. “Why change the habit of a lifetime?”

  “Give me a hand with these shutters, would you? They get stiffer every time I come here.”

  They braced the shutters’ weight and shoved them shut.

  A young woman stepped toward the elevator with her daughter.

  Meryl held up a hand. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid this elevator is out of service.”

  The woman eyed the OUT OF ORDER sign that’d hung there ever since Francis was a boy. “But you just got off it,” she said.

  “And discovered it’s not working. You’ll be much better off using the other one, ma’am.”

  The woman looked him over. With the amount of makeup on her eyelids, it was a wonder she could move them. She appeared not to believe him.

  Meryl held up his hands.” “I have no reason to lie to you, ma’am. I only wanted to save you wasting time on this beautiful day and not have to go to a hospital to get a tetanus shot if you, or your very beautiful daughter, prick your finger on the rusty cage there. But hey, it’s a free country.”

  He stepped aside. Upon reflection, the cage did look a little rusty and old. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the risk. The woman’s expression broke and she gave Meryl a small smile. “Thank you for your concern.”

  She turned to join the queue waiting for the working elevator.

  Meryl poked the peak of his cap up with his thumb to get a better look at the woman’s shapely form. “My pleasure, ma’am. Truly.”

  The woman looked back over her shoulder at him and gave him a welcoming leer herself. She got on the elevator and couldn’t help but look at Meryl one last time before the doors slid shut. Her daughter shook her head, accustomed to being a witness of such a scene.

  “You’re incorrigible,” Stu said to Meryl as he followed Francis toward the front entrance.

  “What?”

  “She has to be ten years older than you.”

  “So? Some women age like a fine wine.”

  “They turn bitter and corked?”

  Meryl gave him a look. “You know what I’m saying.”

  “Unbelievably, after all these years, I actually do. Woe is me.”

  “No—wow is me. You should take what I know and learn to use it for yourself. It’s a gift. Use my talent to improve your own life.”

  Stu kissed the wedding band on his finger. “It’s already improved, thank you very much. So would yours be if you stopped chasing tail all over town.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. You only live once. You’ve got to make the most of life while you’re alive. Am I right, Francis?”

  Francis hadn’t been listening to their conversation. He rarely did. He was too mesmerized by the city. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

  Meryl smiled victoriously at Stu.

  “He’s a kid,” Stu said. “What does he know?”

  “The kid’s a genius. I’d guess he knows a lot more than we do.”

  Francis pressed his hands against the revolving doors and emerged on the cracked sidewalk outside. The noise and sights and smells exploded in his senses, so used to silence, study, and concentration.

  “Do you think your science guys could bottle whatever it is I got that women find so alluring?” Meryl said. “I could sell it for a fortune.”

  Francis opened his mouth to answer.

  “Don’t answer that, Francis,” Stu said, scowling at Meryl. “You know we’re not supposed to talk shop. Two words. Top Secret. If you want to get your ass slung in jail, do it without me around. We’ll see if your animalistic charms fare just as well inside.”

  Meryl pouted as Francis absorbed Meryl’s question and let it percolate in his mind. That was how the solutions came. He asked his mind something, let the question hang there, and the solution presented itself. It was a gift, his parents told him. But that was shortly before he was taken by government officials and never saw them again. He wondered if they still thought it was a gift.

  Francis, for one, was beginning to suspect it wasn’t.

  * * *

  Francis chewed the last of his burger and savored the flavor. It was strong and overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his brain.

  “Would you like some ice cream?” Stu said.

  Francis grinned and nodded his head.

  “The budget won’t cover that, not if you still want to go to the cinema.” Meryl counted the coins and numbers on their receipts. Francis counted them with a single glance and concluded Meryl was right.

  “Budget smudget,” Stu said. “Francis gets to come up here once a year. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little ice cream, do you, buddy?”

  Francis shook his head.

  “What flavor do you want?”

  “Chocolate.”

  Stu took his wallet out and moved to the front kiosk.

  Francis reached into his pocket and extended a napkin to Meryl. “Here, Meryl.”

  “Do I have something on my face?”

  “No. I wrote down the answer for you.”

  “Answer for what?”

  “The question you asked me before. About bottling what you have to sell to other men.”

  Meryl blinked and leaned back on his seat. A look of bewilderment? Shock? Surprise? And then a glance in Stu’s direction and back to Francis. The expression he wore was one of true longing. That simple equation—one he had no chance of understanding—could be worth billions of dollars. And Francis had jotted it down secretly on a crowded bus they’d ridden for ten minutes.

  Francis recognized the look and hesitated, pulling the napkin away. It wasn’t one he liked. Too often it was followed by a sneer and a verbal assault of “freak.” Understanding people’s emotions could be difficult sometimes.

  Stu deposited the tray on the table and handed a small plastic spoon to Francis, along with his ice cream. Meryl snatched the napkin out of his hand and used it to dab the corners of his already spotless mouth.

 
Stu shook his head. “The food is supposed to go inside your mouth, not on your face.”

  “We can’t all be perfect eaters, can we?” As Stu sat down, Meryl gave Francis a nod of thanks and tucked the napkin in his pocket.

  Meryl was silent for the rest of their meal.

  * * *

  Meryl paid for the cinema tickets while Stu bought their popcorn. Meryl never took his hand out of his pocket. They entered the cinema and took their seats—Stu and Meryl sitting on either side of Francis.

  The floor was sticky and someone had left their drink in the cupholder. Such inconveniences never bothered Francis—even less so today with his mind on other things. Just ahead, a young couple made out, kissing with all the heat and passion of inexperienced youth.

  “Nice we get a pre-show like the good old days,” Meryl said.

  “I thought kids did that on the back row?” Stu said, checking over his shoulder. “They’re full up there, I guess.”

  “The girl’s got good form but the boy. . . Sorta looks like he’s trying to give mouth to mouth. See how she keeps pulling away and wiping her mouth dry?”

  “I hope they’re not going to kiss all the way through the movie.”

  “Look at Mr. Sourpuss over here. You’re only young once. It should be Francis playing a little game of tongue hockey. I bet he could do a better job than that guy. I bet if I bunged her a twenty, she’d jump at the chance. With the way he’s assaulting her, I’d be doing her a favor.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Stu said.

  Francis felt nervous. He watched the couple, trying to pick up some last-minute tips. He’d never kissed a girl before. It looked a whole lot different from practicing on the back of his hand.

  The lights went down and the movie started. The couple kept kissing but it was softer and intermittent.

  Stu tucked into his popcorn and Meryl slurped on his drink. Now’s the time, Francis thought. While they’re engrossed in the film. He leaned over and whispered first in Meryl’s ear, then Stu’s.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  Meryl grunted to the affirmative. Stu put his popcorn to one side.

  “You don’t need to come with me. I can manage.”

  Stu glanced at the movie—it was a good one—and back at Francis. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Let the boy go piss,” Meryl said. “He builds state-of-the-art weapons and Christ knows what else for the US military. I’m sure he can handle taking a piss by himself.”

  Stu glared. “Do you want to say that a little louder? I don’t think the staff at the ticket counter heard you.”

  Meryl rolled his eyes. “Enjoy your slash, Francis. Daddy will make sure Mommy stays put.”

  Stu turned on him. “Oh, and I suppose you’re the daddy in this situation?”

  “Sure I am. A man like me could never be mistaken for the woman in a relationship.”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  “Shhhhh!” another cinema-goer said.

  Both Meryl and Stu turned to glare at the Shhhhh-er. Francis beat a hasty retreat for the exit.

  It was better than he hoped. He thought he’d have to enter the bathroom with one of them—probably Stu—and sneak out while he was in a stall. He crossed the main foyer and stepped outside.

  The noise erupted and filled his skull once again. The sights, the smells, the pure energy. He was free.

  He took a piece of curled paper from his pocket and followed the crude map his friend Garry had drawn for him. He took a couple of wrong turns—as Garry had failed to take into account the smaller back alleys—and Francis had taken them to be regular-sized roads.

  Finally, he came to the only road with a name on the map: Dreyfus Avenue. Francis fingered the sweaty, crumpled notes in his pocket as he approached the largest building on the street: a tall apartment complex. A new build, it nonetheless sported the signs of bad design. Black streak marks down either side of the windows like a crying woman’s mascara. The automatic doors slid open every two minutes as a woman wearing fishnet tights and little else paced up and down. She wore too much makeup and reminded Francis of a clown. If she was evidence of the kind of woman he might meet there, he’d be better off walking past. But he didn’t. He entered the building and stepped onboard a waiting elevator.

  He checked the scrap of paper in his hand again. He didn’t need to. He’d memorized it a thousand times. Just as he’d memorized every element of the city from the cinema to here. He could describe every brick and lamppost, every faulty lightbulb and license plate number of every car that drove past. More than anything, he could describe how he felt with every step that brought him closer to this place. Nervous, happy, elated, eager, afraid. . . All tossed up and mashed together in a heady mix—nothing like the calm and steady state his mind occupied in the base.

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open. He stepped out into a dull hallway. Still, the inside of the building was much more welcoming than the outside. But Francis could only focus on the dryness of his mouth, the ache of his legs as he drew up to the door number Garry had told him. He reached up to knock but hesitated.

  Was this a joke? Was Garry playing a trick on him? Did the woman still live here? Was it the same beautiful woman he told him about? Was the experience really as good as he claimed?

  Curiosity and a thousand introspective moments forced his hand. It would be another year before they let him visit the surface. He didn’t want to spend that time wondering what might have been if he’d only had the balls to knock on the door.

  So he did.

  He heard one voice chase another down the hallway. He looked up, feet frozen to the floor, and watched as a couple headed down the hall away from him. He breathed a sigh of relief. It got caught in his throat as the door to room 419 opened.

  He’d half expected it to be a man, with his wife and children in the background watching TV. Or a retired lady with no teeth. But the woman standing before him was neither of those things. She was stunning.

  She looked him over and glanced down the hall. “Just you?”

  Francis commanded his neck to nod. Miraculously, it did.

  The woman shoved the door open and stepped back for him to enter. He shuffled forward on feet baked in concrete.

  The room was small but well-appointed. A pair of wardrobes lined one wall, with a desk and a computer beside it. An ornate makeup table with vines carved into the legs, an entire makeup store’s stock organized on top. And the bed—larger than any he had seen before, the blankets hastily arranged. No doubt it got tiresome having to keep remaking it.

  The woman strutted past him wearing tights up to her knees, her underwear visible through her sheer crimson nightgown. She was tall—Garry never mentioned she was tall—a natural brunette with blonde highlights. It looked like molten caramel swirls in rich milk chocolate.

  “My name’s Iliana. What can I do for you, hon?”

  Her accent was Southern, warm and inviting. Her eyes were hard and had seen a few things in their time, and yet, there was still some youth left in them.

  Francis took the crumpled notes from his pocket and handed them over to her. A donation at the altar of sex.

  The woman smiled, finding the image amusing. She took the money from him. “First time?”

  Francis nodded. He still couldn’t find his voice.

  “I’d best make it memorable then, hadn’t I?” She gave him a wink and placed the money in a little box decorated with red-breasted robins. “Thirty dollars would normally get you my mouth but as this is your first time, I can upgrade for free.” She leaned in close, and Francis got a good look down the front of her dressing gown. “Just don’t tell anybody, okay? I don’t want people thinking I’ve got favorites.”

  In a single move, she removed every item she wore and let them slide to the floor. A magnificent specimen. She took Francis by the hand and led him into the shower.

  “Cleanline
ss is next to godliness,” she said, lathering him up.

  * * *

  Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

  Francis rolled over at the noise and fell on the floor.

  “Get up,” Iliana said.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s Dean. My pimp. He’s here.”

  Francis was still half asleep. “Who?”

  “Just get up! Get dressed.”

  Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

  “Open up, Iliana,” a deep voice said before repeating the same tired rhythm on the door.

  “I’m with a customer!” Iliana said.

  She waited for a response. Francis got the feeling sometimes those four words were enough to get this Dean guy to leave, but not today as the pimp banged on the door again. “Time to pay up, Iliana.”

  “Hurry up,” Iliana said to Francis. “When he comes in, you need to leave immediately. Don’t stop, just keep going.”

  “Will he hurt you?” Francis said, slipping on his socks.

  Iliana smiled and ran a finger down the side of his face. “You’re sweet.” Her expression turned distant. “Maybe in another life, we could have. . .” She shook her head. “Another life is not the one I have. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt me. I’m his best girl. Hurt me, and he hurts my earnings. Are you ready?”

  Francis checked himself. “Yes.”

  “No. Your shirt is on back to front.”

  Francis hadn’t noticed. He tucked his arms in and turned the shirt around.

  Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. “Don’t make me wait, Iliana.”

  “Now you are ready, I think,” Iliana said. “Tell me, did you enjoy your first time?”

  Francis colored and nodded.

  “I like being the first. It means you and I will be connected forever, and you’ll never forget me.”

  Such a thing sounded impossible in Francis’s ears. “I could never forget you.”

  Iliana pecked him on the cheek and contemplated his smile. “Another life. . .” She moved to the door. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

  She unlocked the door and it immediately burst open. A heavyset man marched into the room. He had a slanted forehead and no neck. A bull of a man. What he lacked on the top of his head he made up for on his bulging chest.