In Memoriam Read online

  IN MEMORIAM (Dead Moon Book 4)

  By Matt James

  Description:

  The Moons have settled in Sanctuary, a neighborhood on the fringe of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Having endured gut-wrenching emotional trials and hordes of inhuman enemies, Frank has rapidly become the leader of a small, yet ever-growing community of survivors.

  With supplies spread thin, he reluctantly agrees to return to town for the first time in weeks. Accompanied by his wife, the duo runs into more than just a multitude of murderous monsters.

  Frank and Jill are forced into a war between two well-armed human factions. One of the parties is hellbent on claiming Gatlinburg for themselves and will kill anyone who opposes them. The other group’s leader wants nothing more than to save one of their own.

  PRAISE FOR MATT JAMES

  "Matt James is my go-to guy for heart-stopping adventure and bone-chilling suspense!"

  —Greig Beck, international bestselling author of

  BENEATH THE DARK ICE

  “If you like thrills, chills, and nonstop action, then Matt James may just be your next favorite author!"

  —John Sneeden, bestselling author of THE SIGNAL

  PRAISE FOR “DEAD MOON”

  “DEAD MOON is a high-octane thrill ride filled with action, suspense, and of course, monsters! An amazing read!”

  —Zach Cole, author of KAIJU EPOCH

  PRAISE FOR “THE HANK BOYD ADVENTURES”

  “BLOOD AND SAND takes readers on a spellbindingly treacherous journey that also manages to have fun along the way!”

  —Rick Chesler, bestselling author of HOTEL MEGALODON

  “The Hank Boyd series has been added to my must-read list!”

  —J.M. LeDuc, bestselling author of SIN

  “The next Hank Boyd Adventure can’t come soon enough!”

  —David McAfee, bestselling author of 33 A.D

  PRAISE FOR “PLAGUE”

  "PLAGUE erupts from the pages in a steroid-filled tornado of terror and shock!"

  —SUSPENSE MAGAZINE

  “PLAGUE is filled with action, monsters, and our new favorite hero, Logan Reed. Need a cup of coffee and the next book!”

  —THE MR. CAFFEINE SHOW

  PRAISE FOR “EVOLVE”

  "A rip-roaring action-adventure that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go!"

  —Richard Bard, Wall Street Journal bestselling author of BRAINRUSH

  ALSO BY MATT JAMES

  DEAD MOON SERIES

  Nightmares are Born

  Home Sweet Hell

  Song of Sorrow

  In Memoriam

  DEAD MOON SHORT STORIES

  Nightmare at the Museum

  Scared to Death

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  The Cursed Pharaoh

  The Dragon

  Broken Glass

  Dark Island

  Sub-Zero

  Cradle of Death (Coming Soon)

  DANE MADDOCK ADVENTURES w/David Wood

  Berserk

  Skin and Bones

  Venom

  HANK BOYD ADVENTURES

  Blood and Sand

  Mayan Darkness

  Babel Found

  Elixir of Life

  LOGAN REED THRILLERS

  Plague

  Evolve

  For Karen Balvanz

  Thank you for your support

  Love you, cuz

  IN MEMORIAM

  By Matt James

  1

  Taking a hike through the woods of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, on Christmas Eve morning, should’ve been a romantic way for Jill and me to get some alone time. You’d figure with a large number of people dead that we’d be able to enjoy a quiet walk—just us and nature. The real issue with our stroll is the “us” part. We aren’t the same couple as we were a few weeks ago.

  “I can’t feel my feet,” I say, trying to break the tension.

  Seriously, I’m cold…really cold.

  Jill’s face is stone, unapologetic. “You’re worse than Hope.”

  I stop and throw up my hands. “Why, because I’m numb from the neck down? I mean, you’ve said it yourself, we’re having a really rough winter!”

  She stops further ahead and looks over her left shoulder. I can see the burns along her jawline and neck area in the morning light. It pains me to see it. Not for me, however, but for her.

  She’s still gorgeous, though, I think.

  We don’t have the greatest of medical supplies right now, and she has to tough it out with nothing more than some pain meds and ointments. She’s even gone without covering it for over a week now. Jill says the chilled breeze makes it feel better—and it probably does.

  “No,” she replies, “you’re worse than Hope because at least she doesn’t bring it up ever thirty seconds…”

  Getting off the subject of me complaining more than a seven-year-old child, I step up next to her and put my arm around her shoulder. Now on her left side, I look down at my shorter wife and frown when she refuses to make eye contact with me. It’s been difficult for her since she was forced to personally kill her own parents. Getting injured and having people stare at her, as a result of it, hasn’t helped either.

  “Hey.”

  “Hmmm?” she replies, staring off into the scenery.

  I reach my left hand around the front of her face and gently place it on her chin. Then, I turn her head towards me, feeling a little resistance as I do. But she eventually gives in and looks at me. A cold, hardened Jillian Moon has taken over my wife, though, I know the warm, loving version is still in there somewhere. They’re both fighting for control. The latter variant of Jill comes out whenever Hope is around.

  I usually get the not so warm iteration.

  After it all happened, the parent killing, I mean, she changed. Jill curled in on herself. It’s taken a while to get her back to semi-normal. This is semi-normal Jill. You should’ve seen her the week after it happened. Yikes.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling.

  “Uh, hi,” she replies, eyebrow raised. “What do you want?”

  My hand drops away. I was really hoping we were going to have a moment right there. We didn’t, but all is not lost. Leaning in, I go to give her a kiss. Unfortunately, I’m denied by a simple turn of her face.

  “Don’t do that,” I say, saddened.

  “Frank, I…”

  “‘I’ nothing.” I turn her face again. “I’m going to kiss you—and you have to pretend to enjoy it. Deal?”

  Leaning in, we’re just about to lock lips but are stopped by a duet of screams and shrieks. One of the “vocalists” is definitely human—a woman. The second one… Not so much.

  “Siren,” I whisper, knowing the sound well.

  Jill and I take off running, bobbing and weaving through trees and thick branches. At first, we were just making our rounds, doing a perimeter check of Sanctuary. Last week, I was really close to putting up a sign that said, “Welcome to MoonTown,” since we were the ones that resettled the upper-class neighborhood of cabins.

  Just been too damn busy, I think, grunting as we run.

  Jill, my parents, and I have been in charge of security for a few weeks now since the day we stepped foot into Sanctuary and decided to stay as long as the monsters let us. The Unseen have thinned in numbers, but I know they’re still out there. At least, I think they are. We haven’t regularly gone out of our way to find them.

  The neighborhood is usually clear of the creatures, thanks to us. We’ve hunted anything ugly that’s made its way into Sanctuary, and we’ll continue to do so. I’ve personally walked these woods habitually since we settled, and I know them well.

  We quickly rush around the back of the nearest cabin, the one closest to the “main” road. A dense, natural b
arrier of trees and brush is all that separates Sanctuary from the two-laner. It’s the perfect camouflage against something looking for trouble.

  Slowing, but not stopping, we both draw our pistols and take down a pair of goblins while they’re eating an animal of some kind. I’m happy to see that the meal is covered in dark fur.

  Each of the Unseen take two shots to the chest, and we sprint by them without another glance. The snow crunching beneath our feet isn’t making our trek easy, but we manage and pour on some speed as we give the thrashing creatures a wide berth.

  I’m surprised. I feel pretty good right now. Maybe it’s because I’m in the best shape of my life since college. Everything we do in Sanctuary is on foot unless we have to venture into town to find supplies. Luckily for us, we haven’t had to leave Sanctuary all that often since there are still plenty of other homes for us to loot between the city and our cabin.

  Yes, I’m a cop, and I’m totally fine with the acts of pillage and plunder. I do have a rule, though. Whether it’s a home or business, it’s only fair game if it looks like the owner has been gone for a while.

  It’s been incredible having Jill by my side while we set up shop here. She’s smart, still something to behold no matter what she thinks of herself. She’s dangerous as hell too. Ever since she—kind of—snapped out of her mental funk, she’s been an enforcer. Mostly, I think she’s just trying to keep Hope as safe as possible. Still, the woman has been ruthless, willing to do what it takes.

  I’m not sure the old Jill will ever return.

  More screams erupt on the other side of the tree line, giving Jill and me a better idea of where the conflict truly is. Unfortunately, the entrance to Sanctuary is still too far away for us to use as a getaway. We’ll have to cut through the trees if we want to make it in time. The foliage is unkempt and half-dead, but it’s still plenty thick.

  Thirty feet later, Jill sees the same small opening I do, and she darts directly into it. I follow her with my forearms up. If anything snaps at my face, it’ll hit my puffy jacket instead.

  The siren’s screeches grow louder as we get closer. Duh, that’s how sound works, numbnuts! The feral cries stick out and are easy to discern if you know what you’re looking for. I’m, regrettably, an expert on the subject. I’ve had a lot of experience with these things—too much involvement for most people. It makes me the best to handle situations like this, but it’s also what keeps me up at night.

  “Wait!” I shout.

  I’m not sure if Jill hears me, but she goes left, through a tight cluster of tree trunks. It’s fine—she slipped through with ease. The problem is that I don’t fit. So, instead, I go right. Shit, I think. My course snakes me further to the west, away from the front gates to the east. It also takes me away from Jill and the scream’s owner.

  Any delay could cost this woman her life.

  “Damn,” I mutter, ducking under a fallen tree. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  There’s a fallen tree up ahead. I holster my gun and plant my hand atop it and jump. Midair, I feel the downed trunk snap and collapse beneath my weight. I go down in a heap and wedge my knee between it and its neighbor. Turning over on my back, I kick at my coniferous captor and finally get it to move enough to yank myself free.

  Getting to my feet, I panic when I hear gunshots.

  Jill!

  Now, instead of trying to surgically cut through the brush and tree limbs, I take a direct route through them and bulldoze everything in my path, not caring about what I hit. I just tuck my face into the crook of my left arm and go. Seconds later, I’m birthed out onto the main road, and tumble down a slick, powdery grade of earth and detritus. Coming to a stop on my stomach, I look up and see something I don’t like.

  Jill is squaring off against a siren by herself. There’s nothing except an idling car between them. Well, the person we came here to save is also between them, but she’s on the ground and she’s not moving.

  Fuck, I think. We’re too late.

  Staying low, I scamper behind a second car. It’s twenty-five feet to the west of the siren’s position. The emaciated creature is wearing a disgusting long-sleeved thermal and a pair of tattered, bloodstained khaki pants. She’s so laser-focused on Jill that she doesn’t notice my arrival, even as noisy as it was.

  But Jill sees me. Her attention flicks to me, for just a moment, and boy, does she look pissed! Her jaw is tight, and her stance firm. Her gun is raised, her hands steady. Her right shoulder is locked back, ready to take the recoil of the next round she fires.

  I duck behind the second car and quickly make my way along its right flank, stopping and peeking over the mangled hood. The siren is there, low and ready to pounce. They’re intelligent enough to know when they’re outgunned…literally. For whatever reason, they’ve retained some of their intellect and intuition. The goblins have zilch of both. Then, there are all the other spinoffs, which I’m not going to get into right now.

  I take a deep breath, draw my pistol, and stand. Quickly, and with solid aim, I squeeze off a shot and clip the squatting Unseen in her side just beneath her left armpit. She reacts by standing and stumbling to her right. When she does, she leaves the cover of the car, and Jill pulls the trigger of her own gun. The bullet takes the siren off her feet, spinning her to the ground. With the threat neutralized, we both rush to the human woman’s side.

  When we get there, I’m appalled at what I see.

  She’s still alive but has been horribly eviscerated. Her intestines have been spilled and even looked to have been gnawed on. The siren was eating her alive… I hold back my vomit and turn. There’s nothing we can do for her. She’s ghost-white, shaking, and is going in and out of consciousness.

  Jill’s compassionate side unmutes itself. With a soft and caring face, she kneels and takes the woman’s twitching hand in hers. There, Jill quietly sits with the stranger until she closes her eyes and fades away. It hurts to say this, but we can’t save everyone. It’s the reality of the world we now find ourselves in.

  “Come on…” I softly say, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  Without another word, I help her to her feet. Her eyes snap up from the victim to mine when we hear someone moaning. With an equal understanding of who it is, we both make our way around the car and find the siren alive—injured—but alive.

  She’s an awful sight to behold.

  The siren snarls, but gasps for air and coughs. She’s having trouble breathing due to the gunshot wounds. One of them must’ve punctured a lung. It’s only a matter of time until she succumbs to the injuries. Part of me still thinks of the Unseen as human. They were just a short while ago.

  Jill obviously doesn’t feel the same way, however. Without batting an eyelash, she raises her gun and puts a bullet in the siren’s skull.

  2

  In complete silence, we head east and stop just outside the Sanctuary gates. Not that there are any gates. Not anymore. All that’s left between the twin, bloodstained signs that each read SANCTUARY in all caps, is a simple two-lane road, Sanctuary Way. Our cabin sits at the rear of the subdivision and will take a few minutes to get back since we’re on foot.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  Jill wheels on me. “What kind of question is that?”

  I shrug. “A stupid one.”

  She grits her teeth. “Then why ask it?”

  “Because,” I explain, “I’d be a shitty husband if I didn’t.”

  I’m not sure whether she’s going to punch me or just tell me to get lost. So, I brace for both and wait. Jill doesn’t do either, though. Instead, her eyes tear up, and her hands go to her temples, gripping her hair hard. She looks like she’s about to come unglued, but amazingly, she takes a couple of deep breaths and calms down.

  I take a step toward her.

  She matches my stride and backs away, shaking her head.

  “No, I’m alright…”

  I snort out a laugh. “Like hell, you are!” I step forward and snag her left arm before s
he can get away. “Look at yourself, Jill. You’re anything but alright!”

  “Let go,” she growls.

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Let. Go.” This time, it’s a warning. She even balls her right fist.

  “What are you going to do with that, huh?” I glance down at her hand. “You going to slug the guy who loves you more than anything? Are you going to drive me away, all because you’re upset? We’re all upset, Jill. It’s not that unique of a feeling.”

  Jill lifts her fist and rocks it back. But she doesn’t let it fly. I stand my ground and show her I’m not going to prevent her from doing whatever she’s about to do. The muscles in her arm relax, and then she all but throws herself into me. Jill sobs uncontrollably—and I let her. I wrap my arms around her back and hold her tight, staying quiet until I hear her cries slow and soften.

  “I’m sorry, Frank.” She looks up at me. “I’m so sorry…”

  I smile and lean in, kissing her hard. It’s the first time our lips have touched since her injury. While still friendly with me, and more than willing to play the part of my deputy, Jill has been emotionally dead towards me since the incident with her mom and dad. There have been times where I thought she was about to come around. Then, something made her close herself off to me again.

  I’d have been the same, I think, at just the thought of having to pull the trigger of a gun aimed at my mother and father.

  “Hey,” I say. She looks up at me. “Don’t be sorry.”

  “I’ve been a coldhearted bitch, Frank. I realize that.”

  I grin. “Well, I mean, you said it, not me—and you can’t kill the messenger because that’s you and that’s suicide and suicide is wrong.”