The Complete Double Dead by Chuck Wendig

Author:Chuck Wendig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

FRIENDSHIP, OKLAHOMA. HOME of the Altus Air Force Base.

Across the street from the airbase? A drive-in movie theater. Playing a zombie flick at 4AM in the morning. Kayla didn’t know what film it was, all she knew was that as they passed, she could see something—a splinter? a nail?—go into some girl’s wide-open eye. It made her cringe and sent her sour stomach even further south. Nobody sat in cars, but they sat on blankets and fold-up chairs next to sputtering burn barrels.

Loco turned the Humvee into the airbase proper.

Kayla had never been on a military base before, but she used to live not far from one—Navy, not Air Force. They always looked clean, utilitarian. Frankly, a little boring. Brick, square buildings. Everything at sharp, plain angles.

This was that, but it was a space subverted.

They passed rows of on-base housing—little one or two bedrooms, all brown, all nearly identical. But each had been ruined. Not by the zombies, but by those who had colonized this place. Graffiti on the walls, shrubs torn up, home-made Halloween decorations (lots of scarecrows and clowns) on the lawns, broken windows, more burn barrels. One house had a couple in full-body greasepaint humping on the front sidewalk like a couple of dogs. Kayla thought that was pretty gross, too, in some ways a lot grosser than the splinter in the girl’s eyeball.

The good news was, Danny must’ve felt the same way, because he stared outside with a look that suggested he was watching a car wreck happen before his very eyes.

Further down the way—past a circle drive with an old WWII bomber propped up in the center like some kind of decoration, a bomber that had been tagged with even more elaborate images—they passed by a series of concrete administration buildings. Same effect here: broken windows, spraypaint, toilet-paper in the trees, furniture on the lawn. Outside one, somebody had set up a half-deflated moon bounce. This place looks like a frat party gone nuclear, she thought.

Then the Humvee went through a chain link gate and suddenly they were on an airstrip, whizzing past transports and tankers, past trucks and cars. They passed a helipad with a big clunky olive green chopper sitting in the middle. On the side, spraypainted in purple, was a big crown. Three diadems, like the symbol they’d seen way back in Erick.

Up ahead: big hangars. One after the other.

But Kayla knew that only one of them was their destination, and it was easy to see which. For starters, the damn thing was covered in neon signs, and it was lit up like a city bar at Christmas. Beer signs. Hotel signs. Open signs. Carnival signs. All stuck up around the hangar—either bolted to the side or stuck on poles—with neither rhyme nor reason. The black cables coming off them looked like bundles of black licorice. Then, the front of the hangar was closed off with a giant patchwork of fabric: bedsheets, towels, tarps, all stitched together to make a mostly red-and-purple motley curtain.

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