Caged 4: A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller (Zombie Lockup Series) Read online

  Caged 4

  By Chuck Buda

  Edited by Jenny Adams

  Copyright © Chuck Buda (2019).

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any semblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The author has taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read his work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought this book or telling your friends or blog readers about this book to help spread the word.

  Thank you for supporting my work. Without you the story would not be told.

  Cover art by Marc Gonzalez / mggdstudio.com.

  Contents

  Caged 4

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Special Thanks

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Continue the Thrills

  Inside the Hole

  Join C-Pod

  About the Author

  I Need Your Help!

  My Other Series

  Dedication

  Dedicated to me.

  I did it, Adrienne.

  Chapter 1

  After discussing several options, sometimes through heated debate, the women of D-Pod had decided to try a different approach. Bo and Tracee had been the mouthpieces for the pod in the past. However, they felt it would be safer to go a different route now that the heat had been turned up to sweltering with the attempted uprising of C-Pod. This time, Diandre would deliver the message to their inside confidant, Janie.

  Diandre had been reluctant to carry the extra burden, fearing Janie would become suspicious to deal with a new informant. Bo had coaxed Diandre into believing she would only be a conduit for the message. Diandre would complain of a fresh outbreak of lice. Janie would shepherd Diandre to the Infirmary where she would go through the standard protocol for delousing, a commonplace procedure even if it was unpleasant. As they traveled from the pod to the Infirmary, Diandre would slip Janie a note about the fears of the women in light of the recent news. Although they were hardened criminals, the women in D-Pod were in fear for their lives because of the potential for a vicious upheaval by the dangerous men in C-Pod, coupled with the fact the news of the virus on the outside had leaked. Their only protection would be someone like Janie continuing to feed the communication lines to the pod as well as watching their backs against the Warden and the men of C-Pod, should a prison break occur.

  In exchange, Janie would be offered unlimited contraband, sexual favors and the same protections should the prisoners overthrow Warsaw. The women in D-Pod would provide safe harbor and their unwavering protection against any claims that she had been in cahoots with the prisoners.

  With the delousing finished, Janie returned Diandre to D-Pod in silence. A simple nod was all Janie provided to seal the deal.

  “So, what did she say?”

  Diandre plopped on the bunk before responding to Tracee. The others moved closer to learn the details of the transaction.

  “It went good.”

  “Good?” Bo knelt at Diandre’s feet.

  Diandre nodded. She felt overwhelmed at all the attention. Being the center of the limelight usually didn’t faze Diandre. However, she felt like she needed time to decompress after going through the stressful task of delivering the note.

  “What did she say?” Maria echoed Tracee’s original question.

  “Nothing really.”

  The women exchanged curious glances. Shanika huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Sweetie, can you give us a little more than just “good” or “nothing?” Bo placed reassuring hands upon Diandre’s knees.

  “We couldn’t really talk because she wasn’t alone. She had one of those scary looking muthafuckas with her. Bitch kept giving me the stink eye like one of them fucked up monkeys in the Wizard of Oz.”

  Tracee and Luna giggled. Shanika shifted her weight to the other foot, clearly not amused with the story.

  “I just slipped her the note while she cuffed me. I had it folded really small so it would be easier to hide it.”

  Bo rubbed Diandre’s knees. “Great. So do you think she read the note while you were in the Infirmary?”

  Diandre shrugged. “Dunno. She might have unless that gorilla was all up in her business. If she didn’t, then she probably will when she finds time by herself.”

  Shanika hissed. “Girl tell me we didn’t waste this chance. All I hear is a lot of unsure bullshit.”

  Diandre began to get angry. She wasn’t getting a moment to breathe. “Fuck you, bitch. I ain’t see you volunteer to get your ass scrubbed down.”

  Bo stood to fend off Shanika on her way to get physical with Diandre. Diandre raised herself to her feet, showing Shanika that she wasn’t afraid of her, even if she knew Shanika would kick her ass in a heartbeat.

  “Hold up. No need to get excited.” Bo patted Shanika’s shoulder. Shanika glared at Diandre for a long moment. She backed away to lean against the door jamb. “Something must have happened for you to get the impression that it went well. Did Janie say ANYTHING?”

  Diandre shook her head. “She nodded.”

  “She NODDED?” Shanika barked at Diandre. “Shit, bitch might have been falling asleep on the job and that’s what you take as it went good?”

  “I told you. You ain’t get your ass raked for this shit so shut your muthafucking mouth, Ho.” Diandre leaned toward Shanika. Bo struggled to keep the women from tearing into each other.

  “What does that mean? What does a nod mean?” Maria stepped up to the shoving match in the bunk room.

  “It means she nodded she was good with it. If she weren’t good with it then she would have shaken her head. Fucking Rican Ho.” Diandre had grown weary with the inquisition. Her temper escaped her before she could reel in the words which were escalating the situation.

  Maria took offense at Diandre and attempted to throw a punch at her. Tracee and Luna wrapped their arms around Maria’s waist, tugging her back against the bunks. Bo’s hands were full of Shanika who had used the distraction on the far side of the room to rush Diandre once again. Diandre stood in the middle, turning back and forth to fend off whichever combatant got to her first.

  “Enough!” Bo shouted in Shanika’s face. She shoved the much large woman with a force that had been unexpected. Shanika had been stunned by the level of power that had come from the diminutive woman. Bo circled back to the others. “We’re all in this together. If we rip each other apart then none of this will get us out of here.” She ran her hands through her dark hair. “Would you all have acted up like this if Claudia were still here?”

  The question hung in the room like a pall. The woman diverted their eyes to the floor, each cont
emplating their actions and remembering the loss of their cherished friend and leader. Bo took a deep breath.

  “Diandre is right. If Janie nodded, then we have to assume she is good with our plan. Otherwise, she would have turned Diandre in. Or shaken her head “no.” Right?”

  Nobody answered Bo’s question. Diandre slumped don to the bunk, glad the altercation had subsided. She just wanted to close her eyes and rest.

  Shanika shuffled forward. She swatted Diandre’s scalp as if she were chasing a fly away. Diandre flinched, afraid Shanika was still after her.

  “Relax, baby.” Shanika grinned wide. “You still got some lice powder on your bald-ass head.”

  Tracee started laughing. The others slowly joined in as the mood softened.

  Diandre tried to stay angry but the laughter was too much to keep her from smiling.

  Chapter 2

  Jack found it difficult to sleep. The tension in the pod had been thicker than a linebacker’s neck since he put the beat down on Swede and swore off the men he had promised to protect. His conscience wrestled with what he had done. Oddly, it seemed bothered more by the words he had said.

  Growing up, Jack had hated his old man. Every day, his father would say something negative about him. Words here and there to chop up his self-worth and whittle away any shred of self-confidence. Jack wasn’t smart enough. He couldn’t hit a fastball. He missed lines of grass when he mowed the lawn. Jack wasn’t tough enough. On and on the barbs hooked into his flesh and slowly bled him out.

  Until the day.

  Jack had come home from school with an A+ on his Algebra exam. He hurried all the way home to prove to his old man that he was indeed smart. Jack held up the graded paper like it was a golden trophy. Jack’s father grinned and then punched him in the left eye. His reward for excelling in class was a black eye and an order to go clean out the garage.

  That was the day that changed Jack’s life.

  He shook the horrific memories away so he could toss and turn in his bunk. Deep down inside, Jack had promised himself he would never be like his daddy. He would grow up and fall in love, get married and raise happy, well-adjusted kids. Jack would be the antithesis of his nasty father. But the harder he ran away from his destiny, the faster he reached the finish line.

  Jack WAS his old man.

  His blood boiled at the recognition of the facts. Like his father, Jack couldn’t keep a job. He failed at relationships. His disposition was that of a pissed-off rattlesnake.

  And he had a violent streak in his bones. A lack of respect for human life swimming in the marrow.

  Jack was his old man.

  He listened to the cadence of the conversations in the common room. Very little laughter. Mostly hushed talk about outlasting the virus and whatever Muncie had ins tore for them. A couple of men were ready to give up. Talk of suicide as a solution before they became zombies poked through the din.

  Jack had let them down. All of them. He had finally become something more than he ever imagined possible. In the joint, Jack stood for law and order. He was their hero. A leader they can look up to and respect. Sure, he took some liberties with his status, but he was no different than politicians or elected officials on the outside. Some perks came with the jobs.

  After all that, Jack had shit on them. Worse than the bastards in office. At least those assholes had the common courtesy to outwardly lie about their promises. Jack had truly meant everything he had promised.

  And then he snatched it away.

  The meals had been delivered to the pod. The first scraps of food in two days. The rations were smaller and less appetizing than back in the day, but it was food, nonetheless. The men grumbled as they shuffled in line to get their trays. Jack was usually the first person to get served. Today, he remained in his bunk as he listened to the men get their grub.

  After the line wound down, Jack made his way to the door to collect his food. He picked up his tray and turned to find a seat in the common room. Most of the men quietly ate their food, afraid to make eye contact with Jack, lest he pick their number for the next tirade. One table of men stared at him across the room.

  His friends.

  Swede and the others stared holes through his soul. Jack wanted to take back what he said, but it was a weakness to do so. Jack would quickly find himself on the bottom of a mass scrum if he relented for his sins. It would embolden the dogs in the men’s hearts. They all wanted a piece of him. And together, the pod would clean his clock.

  Jack shuffled toward the table. He passed the first group of men. They lowered their faces to their trays in avoidance of him. The second and the third tables followed suit. As Jack reached his friends, he paused to see if he would be welcome to join them.

  Swede slid over to cover the empty spot where Jack would have been able to sit. He glared at Jack with hurt in his eyes and a bit of hostility behind it.

  Jack felt the room watching the scene play out. The sound of plastic utensils scraping plates had stopped. Not a gulp of water or crunch of stale crackers throughout the whole pod.

  Only silence.

  Jack moved forward. He got as close to Swede as he could without touching him. Swede remained unflinching in the lower position; Jack hovering above him. He blinked twice and finally lowered his gaze to his own tray. Jack understood the message. Swede hated him for the beating. But he still deferred to Jack’s status as pod boss.

  Without a word, Jack lowered his tray to the table. He placed it gently next to Swede. Then Jack turned and made his way to the bunk room.

  A hushed gasp resonated across the room. The men understood the gesture immediately. But it had been completely unexpected. Jack knew the men waited for his next tirade. Instead, he sacrificed his own hunger to the man he had betrayed.

  Slowly, the conversations and sounds of eating returned. Jack blotted it all out as he climbed back into his bunk. He rolled to face the cold cement wall. His stomach growled in anger. He ignored it as best as he could. Jack had to regain control of the pod. He needed to regain control of himself. His emotions had taken over where his street smarts and cunning had ruled. Jack knew his only hope of escaping the prison and meting out revenge on Muncie rested in his ability to take charge. To be the Jack he had become. The Jack everyone respected. The Jack they all needed.

  He wrapped his arms around his groaning belly and quietly cried about the tragic life he had led up this point.

  Chapter 3

  Muncie quietly slipped into the lab. He intended to sneak up on Shipley in case any further developments had arisen. His hope was to catch the good doctor in the act of a eureka moment or jotting notes down in his secretive notebook. He stood along the far wall as Dr. Shipley used a pipette along a set of slides.

  “Looks interesting.”

  Dr. Shipley tossed the pipette in the air. He’d clearly been startled by Muncie’s intrusion. The doctor removed his goggles and brushed his sleeve along his forehead.

  “You know, it helps if someone knocks before entering. I may have lost potential results now.”

  Muncie chuckled and sauntered toward Shipley. “Why are you so jumpy, Doc? Working on something secret for the Warden?”

  Dr. Shipley exhaled. He removed his gloves, slapping them on the lab counter. “What do you want? I have a lot of work to do here.”

  Muncie gritted his teeth. He would ordinarily bring his baton to the skull of a man who sassed him with less attitude. However, he needed Shipley on his team. For now. Muncie swallowed his temper in the interests of self-preservation.

  “Like I said, you must be working on some secret shit if you’re all jumpy.”

  Dr. Shipley rubbed his temples before placing his glasses on his face. “I’m working on hardly any sleep, tons of coffee...and you might not have noticed but we are in the middle of some desperate times so...”

  Muncie encroached on the doctor’s personal space. He wanted to apply as much intimidation as he could without moping the floors with the man’s ass. “Relax
. I’m just checking on our little arrangement.” Muncie leaned over the microscope. He spied tiny shrimp-like creatures swirling around under the lens. “Looks like you can put your loads to better use on your nurses.”

  Dr. Shipley grew agitated with Muncie’s tactics. “Very funny. Maybe you have time for churlish activities but I am very busy. Now, if you don’t mind...”

  “I mind very much, Shipley.” Muncie clutched the doctor’s shoulders, squeezing lightly at first and then tightening as he spoke. “Has the Warden been asking for any additional favors lately?”

  Dr. Shipley escaped Muncie’s grip, only because Muncie allowed him to back away. “Our arrangement is only for me to keep you in the loop with information that might prove beneficial to you. I am still under strict orders of confidentiality to the Warden. I report to him, not you.”

  Muncie shoved Dr. Shipley. “I might remind you that I can snap your pencil fucking neck like a toothpick any time I please.”

  “And I might remind you that if you kill me, then you will be more fucked than you already are. Who is going to save your ass when I’m dead?”

  Muncie chewed the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He wanted to rip Shipley’s arms off and beat him over the head with them. But he realized the doctor was accurate with his assessment. Muncie needed Shipley more than Shipley needed Muncie. The understanding chaffed Muncie. He’d need to come at this from a different angle.

  “You’re right, Doc. I guess I’m feeling the pressure. That fucking prick Turk has me worked up too.”

  Dr. Shipley nodded. “I accept your apology, as obtuse as it may be.”

  Muncie clenched his fists. The good doctor’s attitude needed addressing. He bit back his anger. “Now that the monsters have been relocated to A-Pod, how are you going to continue working on them? You know, testing their abilities?”