unless the zombie army had gotten to the soldiers. Maybe he could go south.
But Jubal didn’t reach the highway.
Ahead of him stretched regiments of zombies, all facing west, all in?le. They trudged along, keeping in perfect step with each other. They must have come from other small towns in the area.
There were thousands of them.
Something glinted in the bright blue sky.
Jubal stopped the car and looked up through his windshield.
Some sort of silver vehicle, like an airborne jet-ski, buzzed over the army of zombies. At one point it hovered in place. Then it buzzed around again, herding the undead towards the west-towards Nevada. It was too far away and Jubal wished he had remembered binoculars so he could have a better look. But it was close enough to see the color of the rider’s clothing.
Red.
For a brief moment he thought it might be some new military craft. Then he recalled the dream, the half- remembered details suddenly and sharply in focus.
The?gure in crimson strode across a sea of dead bodies, waving a silver staff, urging the corpses to rise and obey him. As the cadavers struggled to obey, the man in the robes turned to look at Jubal. It wasn’t human. The head was too tall and very thin, as if a giant had squeezed it between its?ngers. The eyes were black, deep set between the angular cheekbones. There was no nose to speak of and the mouth was nothing more than a cruel gash. Behind the creature, yellow mist billowed and rose like stage fog in a magician’s show. Jubal knew it to be poison, a foggy messenger carrying the plague of the dead army.
He snapped to full alertness. He wasn’t sure how much of the memory had actually been in his dreams, or if his subconscious had embellished the scenario. He quickly decided it didn’t matter. The dream-the memory — had the feeling, the texture of truth.
And if it were true, the implication was monstrous. It meant this wasn’t an accident. It meant there was a design here, a hand responsible for the death of all he had ever known and everyone he loved.
And if it wasn’t true, Jubal decided he didn’t care. He had endured more than any person could rightfully expect in a lifetime. It was time for a little payback.
He stepped out of the car, leaving the engine running.
He estimated the dead army was less than two hundred yards away. The odd?ying machine that carried the red-robed?gure darted over the lurching creatures, looking as harmless as a?re?y from this distance. There seemed to be no reaction to Jubal’s presence. They either didn’t know he was there or they didn’t care.
That was about to change.
Jubal calmly removed the sniper ri?e from the cruiser. His father had purchased the Tango-51 though the sheriff’s of?ce, so he could get the professional discount. He had called it the?nest ri?e ever made. Jubal ran a hand over the green and black?nish. His father had taught Jubal to always care for his weapons so he would be able to rely on them. Jubal had followed that advice. It was close to two years since the gun had been?red and Jubal had cleaned it afterward, as he always did. He knew it would?re accurately. He slid back the big bolt action and made sure it was loaded. He didn’t think he would need more than one round.
Using the roof of the car for a rest-and trying to ignore the pain in his right elbow-Jubal put his eye to the scope and searched for the crimson?gure.
It took a few seconds, but he found it. At?rst, he could only see a?eld of red, but the scope’s resolution was amazing. He shifted the ri?e a fraction of an inch and he found its hideous face.
It was exactly as it had been in his dream. The black and bottomless eyes seemed to stare straight into his mind. He could feel the power radiating from this strange being, power that would eventually overwhelm everything on the planet. Fighting back was a lost cause. It would be so simple to put the gun down, to give up No.
Jubal gasped. That thing had noticed him. Jubal didn’t understand how, but the creature on the?ying machine had connected with him like two satphones communicating.
It had to be the plague. It not only changed humans into those undead beasts, it also linked everyone together in unexplainable ways.
I’ve tuned into the dead frequency.
Jubal ran a hand over the wound on the back of his neck. Though the bleeding had stopped, the bite was sticky and it ached.
That thing could talk to me. Maybe not with words, but I understood the surrender message it was sending out. Does that mean that I’m turning?
Other than the pain from the bite, and the ache in his arm, Jubal didn’t feel different. But if the disease was transmitted more quickly through direct contact, his transformation could begin at any time. If it happened, he could?nd himself unable-or unwilling-to?ght.
He couldn’t take that chance.
The strange glider was still hovering over the army of the dead. He felt an odd tickling deep within his skull, a gentle hand sifting through his thoughts.
Fuck that.
He leaned forward with the barrel of the sniper ri?e again on the cruiser’s roof. Jubal closed his eyes. He exhaled, as his father had taught him. His opened his right eye and found the non-human pilot through the ri?e’s scope. He squeezed the trigger.
He thought he saw something resembling surprise?ash across that alien face before the bullet left the barrel.
Maybe this communications network travels both ways. Maybe I sent my own greeting across the dead frequency.
The message may have been delivered, but not as he intended. The 7.22 mm shell tore through the creature’s shoulder, knocking it from its?ying machine.
Jubal had aimed for the head.
The strange craft began to slowly spin,?oating away.
He lowered the ri?e. The orderly lines of walking dead broke formation, each cut free from the robed thing’s control.
It was time to go.
Jubal climbed back into the car. He propped the Tango against the passenger door and picked up one of the shotguns.
The zombies were spread out, both in the road and on the cactus-strewn desert that surrounded it. There were too many of them to avoid, so Jubal decided to use the largest weapon he had. He stomped the accelerator.
The?rst zombie he hit rolled under the car and provided a satisfying crunch. The next one?ew into the air and landed against the windshield before spinning off to one side. The safety glass cracked but did not break.
He managed to clip several others with the edge of the front bumper as he tried to in?ict the most damage possible without destroying the cruiser. As he drew closer to the spot where the undead had originally been lined up, Jubal saw a?ash of red.
He slowed the car and rolled down his window.
The creature he had shot was lying in a twisted mess next to the road. Seeing it through the ri?e’s scope had not prepared him for the size of the monster. If it had been standing it would have been close to eight feet tall. The thing’s arms were very long and were now bent into unnatural shapes. If it had anything resembling a human skeleton, its back was broken. Its left shoulder was leaking a black gelatinous?uid.
Jubal checked the perimeter around the car. There were plenty of zombies, but none close enough to pose an immediate threat. He stepped out of the cruiser.
The alien creature studied him with those insect-like black eyes. They seemed to have sunken even further into the elongated skull. Jubal could now see that the thing’s robe was decorated with hundreds of odd symbols, all delineated in golden embroidery. He could smell something like exotic spices, and beneath that scent was the unmistakable pungency of rot.
The creature’s breath came in shallow, whistling gasps.
A wave of terror passed through Jubal as he stood so close to a being that came from somewhere other than Earth.
