The Living Dead 2 (The Living Dead, #2)(177)

I shot him in the head.





When I got back to Heather, she was holding that portable radio in her hands and crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Daddy was right about Nessel,” she said. “The bastard used me as a decoy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daddy sent a squad of his best men to the safe house where we were supposed to go.” She looked up at me and choked back tears. “Nessel was waiting for them. They’re all dead. Now he’s attacking the compound.”

“Oh Jesus.”

“He said for us to stay away.” She looked deep into my eyes. “But my God, Andrew. It sounded so bad. I heard explosions. And Daddy was screaming at people while he was talking with me.”

I had no idea what to say. She told me while we were dancing that she had begged her father for a week to let her go out on a date with me, and now his empire was in serious risk of crumbling and it was all because of our date.

I was feeling lousy, because I knew the role I played in wrecking her family, but then she surprised me.

“Andrew,” she said. “You were telling me the truth about my mom, weren’t you? You really did read her my letter?”

I nodded.

“You worked a miracle bringing her back into my life.”

I shook my head.

“You did,” she said. “I believe that. And I believe you can do it again. I believe you can give me my father back.”

I felt confused. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Help me save my father, Andrew. Please.”

She turned those big green eyes up at me, a tear welling up and running down her face, and in that moment, I knew I was powerless to refuse. I’d have handed her my soul for the asking.

“Let’s go get your dad,” I said.





I started toward the main gate because that was the only way into Ashcroft’s compound that I knew of, but when Heather saw where I was going she pointed me in a different direction.

She had me go to the west side of the compound and drive into a crumbling building that looked like it had been a bakery before the outbreak. It was the corner shop in a block-long strip mall. She told me to stop, got off the bike, opened a door that had been made to look like it was rusted shut, and ushered me into a freshly painted white corridor.

“This leads right into the compound,” she said.

I nodded, impressed. Concealed doors and hidden tunnels were the kind of thing you’d expect from a powerful boss like Ashcroft, but it was still weird to actually see it in real life. That kind of engineering was way beyond what most bosses were capable of.

We took the motorcycle all the way to the end of the corridor, where we were met by guards who took us to see Ashcroft.

Ashcroft and Naylor were watching the battle from the third floor of the Fairmount. Nessel had focused his troops around the main gate, but they were hitting the wall of flattened cars in a couple of different places, forcing Ashcroft’s troops to divide up their strength.

Heather and I stood back a little, listening, as Naylor relayed updates of the battle he was receiving over the radio to Ashcroft.

The outer perimeter of Ashcroft’s compound was made up of smashed and stacked cars. Nessel’s men had used rocket-propelled grenades against that wall and it had partially collapsed in two places. A large group of Ashcroft’s men were boxed in near the gate, fighting a close-quarters battle in the rubble left from the explosions, and Nessel’s superior numbers were starting to wear them down.

Ashcroft surveyed the scene with night-vision goggles. “Pull them back, Naylor,” he said. “Tell them to regroup around the courtyard.”

Ashcroft’s troops began falling back. Heather reached over and touched my hand as the soldiers ran back toward the hotel. I looked over at her and saw she was holding her breath.

Just then another blast from a rocket grenade lit up the night, and when the smoke settled, we saw there was a huge hole in the wall.

Naylor was watching the space beyond the wall. “Something’s happening,” he said. “They’re bringing up buses.”

“Buses?” Ashcroft said. He focused his binoculars on the hole. “My God,” he gasped.

Two yellow school buses broke through the burning debris that had once been the wall of flattened cars and rolled to a stop not far from Ashcroft’s retreating troops. Some of the men stopped to fire at the bodies getting off the buses, but took off running again when they realized they were the infected.

“That is f*cking brilliant,” Ashcroft said, impressed despite himself. “Using the infected like that. I didn’t think Nessel had it in him.”

“Problem, sir,” Naylor said.

Ashcroft smirked. “What now?”


“There, sir. To the right of the main gate. See him?”

I followed Naylor’s finger to a high point on the wall. There was a man crawling to the top of it, but he was too far away for me to see what he was doing.

“Sniper,” Ashcroft said. And then, one at a time, Ashcroft’s retreating troops started to fall, the only clue as to why were the bright muzzle flashes of the sniper’s rifle.

In the confusion, Ashcroft’s men didn’t know which way to run.

“They’re getting slaughtered out there,” Ashcroft said. “Get some of your men back up to the front and take that sniper out.”