Playing Havoc

By April Brookshire

The apocalypse started six years ago, but Anya Donovan's world ended when her fiancé was turned into a zombie. Drifting without purpose, Anya uses her power over the reanimated to annihilate pockets of the undead. While trading for supplies at a settlement, she hears of a rescue team traveling into Canada.

The rescue mission north comes with risks and, besides her brother, Anya isn’t sure she can trust others from the group. After making it through the perils of the journey, she is faced with new dangers and nothing is what it seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Brookshire
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311052711

April Brookshire

Author of romance and urban fantasy. Her works include the Young Assassins series, Beware of Bad Boy series and Dead Chaos series. She currently lives in Denver, Colorado.

Book preview

PLAYING HAVOC

Book 2 of the Dead Chaos series

Ryan & April Brookshire

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Ryan & April Brookshire

All right reserved

www.aprilbrookshire.net

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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CHAPTER ONE

The old man chopped firewood outside my window again. The thwack of the first chop ensured my waking up. The subsequent thwacks guaranteed my staying awake. Sitting up, I pulled the thin blanket against my chest and reached for my glass of water. The liquid ran down my throat, tasting metallic from the dust in Mac’s gun room. A gun room I’d converted into a guest room.

I rubbed a hand across my sleep lined face, doing nothing to wipe away the fatigue. The thwacks continued and I imagined them striking my heart in an unrelenting attack. Thinking of Kyle always made my chest ache. One bite and everything was gone.

I’d been crashing at Mac’s for over two weeks. As an uninvited guest, he hadn’t been particularly hospitable toward me. Mac was under the misconception that being loud and ornery would drive me back home to the comforting arms of my family. I’d take a surly old man over pity and commiseration any day.

The morning after Kyle disappeared, died and likely reanimated somewhere in the Rockies, I’d had all I could take of seeing my pain reflected on the faces around me. My own grief was more than I could withstand. To escape, I’d shoved clothes into a duffle bag and drove to Mac’s cabin several miles away.

Willard Mac Mackie had taken one glance at my swollen, bloodshot eyes and told me to turn my four-wheeler back the way I came. Ignoring him, I’d carried my bag into his gun room and slammed the door shut.

The day before I’d arrived at Mac’s, my power had branched out into new territory. The stress and anguish of my loss had centered on a single zombie, causing its head to explode and splatter against the car window. Maybe I’d also run away from the horror of my gift evolving into something destructive. Since discovering my power to temporarily incapacitate the undead, I’d turned the dead energy which reanimated corpses back on them. This new skill frightened me. As I’d burst the zombie’s brain, my own had felt excruciating pain, causing me to pass out and blood to run from my nose.

So the next day, I found myself at Mac’s Finally coming out of the gun room, he’d been smoking a cigar in the living room with Bud at his feet. Bud, the baby bear Justin and I had rescued from being devoured by zombies hadn’t seemed any more welcoming.

Without glancing at me, Mac had said, Your dad stopped by while you were sleeping, told me what happened. He’d stopped talking, seeming uncomfortable with the subject of my fiancé being infected and going missing. Finally, he’d taken a deep breath and continued, I’m sorry you lost your young man like that. He was a good kid. But don’t get too comfortable on that couch. I’m kicking you out of my place tomorrow.

A couple weeks later, Mac was still trying to boot me out of his cabin. Unfortunately for him, I was still comfortable on his couch. I didn’t plan on leaving it anytime soon despite its lumpiness and musty scent.

The warm summer weather turned his cabin toasty so I sat on the couch in just a tank top and pajama shorts which were getting loose in the waist. I probably appeared scraggly, with my hair in a rat’s nest and no makeup. I imagined I resembled the undusted furniture around me. But at least I looked better than the ninety-nine percent of women in the world who were rotting corpses. I hadn’t packed a brush in my duffel so I’d have to borrow one from Mac.

Dark sheets hanging on the windows blocked out bright Colorado sunlight in the gun room. Pity they didn’t block out the aggravating sound of chopping wood. I was stuck listening until Mac completed his chore. It was the middle of June and months before firewood was needed so I doubted he was doing it for any reason other than to irritate me.

Without the peace of slumber, my thoughts returned to losing Kyle. We’d been kidding ourselves, thinking we’d get married as if it even meant what it used to. There would never be a life filled with happiness and a future replete with a home and someday children. The world had ended and the rest of us were pretending the human race wasn’t slowly going extinct. Any one of us could be bitten tomorrow and we’d die just like Kyle.

Just like my mom six years ago.

Even with my ability I wasn’t immune to the plague. My power just made it a little harder for the infected to catch me. I pictured each of my loved ones getting infected just like Kyle and disappearing from my life. The apocalypse was a lot easier to bear with your family surviving alongside you. With them all gone, what would be the point of struggling anymore?

When the wood chopping stopped, I lay down, closed my eyes and let the nothing of sleep claim me again.

***

Two mornings later, I awoke to the sound of a shotgun blast. I’d been dreaming about raiding a department store with Kyle where we were overrun by zombies. My necromancer ability wouldn’t work and we used our last bullets on ourselves. Not pleasant, but I later wondered if there was a symmetry in us ending our lives together.

At the sound of the gunshot, I knifed into an upright position. The dead energy hit me. Biters were closing in on Mac’s cabin. Alarmed, I jumped off the couch and ran to the front door. It was wide open and Mac’s back was to me where he stood on the front porch. He had a shotgun hiked over one shoulder and was gazing out into the woods. Peeking around him, I saw there were at least half a dozen and more still trickling out of the trees.

The one at the lead was a short male with bright red hair sticking straight up from his head like a clown. His mouth worked in a chewing motion as if he could already taste the sweetness of our flesh. Behind him stumbled a woman in a torn blue jogging suit with her hair still amazingly in a jaunty ponytail. Gawking at me through milky eyes, she let out a moan of anticipation. I shivered at the creepy feeling coursing through me. Never would I get accustomed to the sight of the infected.

Taking in Mac’s casual stance, I leaned against the porch column. Aren’t you going to shoot them, old man?

He gave me a dry look. Now, why would I do that when I lured them up here from the highway for you to deal with?

What do you want me to do? I held up my empty hands in mocking helplessness. Punch them in their heads until they stay down?

You don’t have to mouth off, missy. I’m just trying to get you off your ass so you can stop feeling sorry for yourself, Mac barked in aggravation.

Feel sorry for myself? I asked. "We should all feel sorry for ourselves! If you haven’t noticed, life sucks nowadays and it isn’t getting any better!"

Mac gestured to the oncoming threat. Go ahead then, walk out there and let them have at you. It’d be a quick end to your misery, being torn apart in minutes. In response to my angry glare, he gave me another option. Or, you could go in there, grab a gun and blow their heads off.

As if unconcerned with the ravenous zombies advancing on us, Mac sat down on a nearby rocking chair, Remington shotgun in his lap, and waited for me to make the next move. The closest infected was only a couple yards from the bottom step. They totaled fourteen in all, each of them in a direct path to us. Mac began to whistle, making me clench my jaw in agitation. At sixty-five, he was the picture of aging mountain man, wearing a flannel shirt, suspenders and carpenter jeans. With salt and pepper hair and beard, his weather beaten face wore a serene expression.

The dead inched closer and I imagined them sinking their rotten teeth into me before tearing me apart as Mac had described. He didn’t leave me much choice. Closing my eyes, feeling the undead around me, I soaked in the energy that reanimated them until I heard a deep humming of power no one else could hear. Unleashing the dark magic back on them, the sensation of the death energy leaving my body felt like a temporary cleansing. They dropped in synchronization, bodies going slack mid-motion. The zombie at the front of the pack hit his head against the bottom step with a thud.

Looking smugly at Mac, I told him, Guess they aren’t getting me today.

If I’d expected him to gasp in shock at my talent, I’d have been mistaken. Am I supposed to clap, missy? Your father told me years ago about you being able to control them.

Whatever, I replied airily, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my surprise. I’m going back to bed. You might want to do something about them before they wake up and eat you. Mac’s overweight cat, Oscar, slithered past my legs and down the steps, winding his way through the maze of corpses. I couldn’t resist adding, Or before they feast on your fat kitty.

Ignoring Mac’s scowl, I went inside, letting the dusty screen door slam behind me. It figured my dad would confide in Mac about his daughter’s freakish ability. It wasn’t as if Mac had anyone to tell besides his bear cub and cat.

This time, before I drifted off into slumber, I heard a succession of booms from outside as Mac gave a final death to the infected littering his front yard.

I dreamt of Kyle’s thirteenth birthday party.

***

When I next woke up, to a strange sound, it was mid-afternoon. At first, I thought I was still dreaming, or in a really shitty nightmare. Staring hungrily at me, as he hovered menacingly near where I slept, was the clown-haired zombie that Mac was supposed to dispose of. Disturbed, I leapt off the couch and away from the biter, spinning around to face him once I was a safe distance away.

Mac had gagged the infected male with a belt, the leather stretching his mouth wide open in a ghastly smile, and tied him up in here with me. A rope was secured around his waist with his arms trapped behind him. The zombie strained against the tether attached to a coat rack mounted on the wall, determined to take a chunk out of me.

Mac! I shouted at the top of my lungs, riling up my zombie visitor. Get your sorry ass in here!

Amid the grunts and groans of the infected, Mac appeared in the doorway. Quiet down, missy. Bud is taking a nap.

So was I until your mean trick woke me up!

Mac leisurely scanned the present he’d left for me. Oh, him.

Uh, yeah, I drawled condescendingly, Your new pet.

He’s not for me. He’s here to keep you company. I figured you two could wallow in your misery together. Mac scratched his bearded chin. Though, it’s a close call who has more cause to be miserable. But you probably stink more.

Mac, what a joker.

Narrowing my eyes, I picked up my tactical tomahawk from where it lay on the floor and moved in on my target. Zombie clown was leaning forward, as if frozen mid-lunge, following my cautious movements with his bloodshot eyes. I began to draw back my weapon to drive the spike into his head when my wrist was seized in a tight grip. Twisting my torso, I glanced back at Mac questioningly.

Not in the house, he ordered.

Fine, I muttered. I’ll do him out front.

Letting go of me, Mac untied the zombie and pulled him out of the room and down the hallway to the front door. The infected male stumbled down the porch steps but somehow managed to stay on his feet. I followed Mac until he stopped near a pile of dead bodies, kicking the biter’s legs out from under him.

I drove the spike into the side of his rotted head, grimacing at the squelching noise of the impact and the mess it created. I held up my dirtied weapon. Happy now?

I’ll be happy when you go home, Mac commented sourly. Felt good, didn’t it? His bushy eyebrows rose as he waited for me to answer.

It felt like it always does, I replied. Like one down and one billion to go.

CHAPTER TWO

Anxiety nearly overwhelmed me as we drove up the long driveway to the cabin. The house itself was no longer a welcome, reassuring sight. It used to be a symbol of stability in my life, but now served as a reminder of love lost. My family and friends would undoubtedly harass me with constant support. Really though, I only wanted to be left alone to grieve in peace.

The blue, cloudless sky was at odds with the storm brewing inside my head. The scent of pine and earth drifted through the open car window like an air freshener.

My dad was quiet during the short drive, his broad shoulders tense, until we were almost home when he asked, Anya, are you sure you’re ready to come home? We love and miss you, but if you need more time.... He let it float out there, worried that my emotional instability required more time away from the chaos of our family.

Also left unsaid was his concern over the incident after Kyle disappeared. He’d panicked when I’d had a seizure after exploding the zombie’s head. Dad, I’m fine. Just try to keep Paulina from smothering me. I forced a smile. Little did he know, I already had a plan to keep her from pestering me.

I’ll do my best, he answered softly, running fingers through his copper hair.

We parked outside the barricade, climbing through the school bus, careful not to make noise. I wanted a head start on getting settled before the consolation attempts flooded my way. In the first hours after Kyle was bit and vanished, we were one mass of grief. He was my other half, but he was also like another son to my father, another grandson to Paulina and a good friend to everyone in our makeshift family.

Years had gone by without our group losing anyone. Not since my mom was infected in the beginning. Perhaps we’d become cocky in our good fortune. The shock of Kyle’s death had hit us all hard. But no one was hurting the way I was. My fiancé was either dead or the walking dead. The future we’d had before us was obliterated the moment a biter’s teeth had sunk into Kyle’s flesh.

Everything was much the same as I’d left it. My older brother, Viktor, and his girlfriend, Melanie, were hunched down with their backs to us, tending the garden. We slipped past them quietly and entered the house. The smell of cooking food wafted in the air, at its source I’d likely find Paulina. Hopefully she had my little sister, Riley, with her.

My dad left me in the front entryway, calling over his shoulder, You might want to change your sheets. Zeke sleeps in there sometimes.

I scanned both ways as I neared the hallway. The coast was clear so I crept into my room, shutting the door carefully. Inside, Zeke was making my bed. He glanced up nervously, his brown eyes tearing up as they focused on me. He rushed over and hugged my waist, his skinny arms twining around me. I heard snot forming in his nose and gently pushed him away before he could douse my shirt in gross little boy germs.

Miss Anya, I’m so glad you’re back, he whispered between hiccups.

I couldn’t help but smile as I stroked a hand over his sandy brown hair. Zeke was rascally and foulmouthed, but he’d become a part of our family in the weeks he’d been with us. The poor kid had never known security until we’d rescued him from a group of degenerates.

Zeke, I missed you too, but can I have some privacy for a minute? I needed a quiet moment before facing the rest of the family.

He complied wordlessly, his hiccups starting to dissipate as he pulled out of our hug. Leaving the room, and apparently over his moment of vulnerability, he said, Yeah, well, I’m gonna go practice with my slingshot on some squirrels.

Laughing for the first time in weeks, I shook my head at him. You have fun with that.

I unpacked my belongings quietly while listening to the footsteps creaking throughout the house. Surely the whole family knew I was home by now. Perhaps they were observing my desire for peace.

Riley’s side of the room was messier than usual. Civilization