Darlings of Decay

by Chrissy Peebles

  Now breathing through her mouth, she ran, doubled over, for the truck. Thank you, God! It opened. She leaped inside and slammed the door, instantly realizing her mistake. The dead little girl lurched in her direction, its nose sniffing the air like a hound dog. Two other undead glanced toward her and came closer.

  Stupid. She locked the doors and lay on the bench seat to see under the steering wheel. She cut the wires with the piece of mirror, then set her makeshift weapon on the dashboard.

  Several touches of bare wires together and the engine turned over. Yes! It might only be a ride to the next stop, but she wouldn’t be stuck at The Motel of the Dead.

  She sat up and screamed. Zombies surrounded the truck, their hands swiping along the windows, covering the glass with blood and slime. Her scream whipped them into a frenzy. The truck rocked under the onslaught of their bodies.

  A sound like a shot from a gun echoed.

  A crack appeared in the front windshield.

  3

  Rachel slammed the gear shift into reverse and stomped on the gas. The truck roared backward with so much force one of the undead flipped over the tailgate and into the bed. Others were not so lucky. Instead, they became nothing more than speed bumps.

  Gulping back sobs, Rachel whipped the steering wheel straight, pushed into drive and sped away. She couldn’t care about the bodies being crushed under her wheels. They were no longer human. If she said it enough times, she might actually believe it.

  The zombie in the back banged on the rear window. Rachel shrieked and almost drove into a ditch. She took a corner fast, watching in her rearview mirror as the undead man flipped out of the bed and to the asphalt.

  She laughed the laugh of the insane. The sound of it hurt her ears. She’d done it. Survived the night and successfully outmaneuvered a small throng of shuffling, ravenous undead. Her laughter turned to tears, and she coasted to the shoulder of the road.

  By the time her tears stopped, her eyes felt heavy and she had the hiccups. What Bill and the other scientists had intended to use as a weapon against their enemies, once the virus was perfected of course, instead became their demise. It turned people’s brains into mush all right, and made them hungry for living flesh. Instead of a simple-minded people, easily controlled by a powerful government, they now had a horde of undead that couldn’t be controlled by anyone.

  She steered back to the highway. Not another living person was anywhere in sight. Cars were crooked on the side on the road, some crashed into trees, other with blood smears on the windows. The signs of undead feasting were everywhere. Was she the last living person on the planet? Wouldn’t that be ironic?

  By mid-day, the gas needle showed less than a quarter of a tank. Rachel had no money with her, not that it would matter, and sweat poured down her face and back. Since no zombies were in sight, she chanced opening the passenger side window and lowering the driver’s side an inch.

  A gas station loomed on her right, and she steered toward it. Since electricity still worked, she’d fill the truck with gas, and if the coast were clear, see what food and water she could find in the truck stop convenience store. If there were other survivors, they wouldn’t have had time to clear the place of anything useful. The same might not be said in a few weeks.

  She idled at the pump for a few minutes. When nothing appeared from inside or from around the building, she scooted out, leaving the door open and the keys in the ignition. To hell with the warnings of shutting off a vehicle before getting gas. Blowing up was the least of her worries.

  Tank full and no unwelcome visitors coming around, Rachel headed into the convenience store. A rack of backpacks with gasoline logos on them stood by the front door. She grabbed a hot pink one and a matching baseball cap. Then, she headed for a back room. She’d need boxes to carry as many things as possible. The backpack would be in case a quick getaway was ever needed.

  She filled the truck bed with as many boxes of food and beverages as possible. Then, moved back to the counter where a display of knives was displayed behind glass. She went to the back of the counter, and…Hallelujah, a shotgun! She rummaged, found a few shells and broke the glass. She grabbed a wicked looking machete type thing with a sheath that could hang on her belt.

  The truck stop even had knock-off Harley jackets. She grabbed one to match her hat, a few tee-shirts and toiletries and headed outside with lighter spirits than she’d had an hour ago. The sound of groaning halted the good feelings fast enough. She sprinted for the truck. She’d no sooner slid behind the wheel and slammed the door before a man erupted from the nearby tree line.

  “Wait for me!” He looked to be about her age, although it was hard to tell under the dirt covering his face. He dove through the passenger window as three undead emerged from the same spot he’d come running. “What are you waiting for? Get us out of here.”

  Well, damn. She couldn’t leave him, but having another person around would cut her food supplies in half. She sped back to the highway and wondered where all the truckers had gone.

  “Thanks.” The man straightened his six foot body into the proper position. “I’m Eric King.”

  “Rachel Moore. Did you work at the stop?”

  He laughed. “One of the truckers actually.” He brushed at the dirt on his jeans. “Thought I could cover my scent with grease and dirt. Didn’t work too well.” He motioned his head to the stuff in the truck bed. “Mind if I grab one of them waters? It’s been a while.”

  “Grab me one, too.”

  As he knelt on the seat, she caught a glimpse of a 44-magnum in a belt holster. “Do truckers always carry guns?”

  “The ones who want to get a good night’s sleep do.” He settled back on his seat. “You’re the first live person I’ve seen since the shit hit the fan yesterday. I’m glad to see you’re one of the good guys.”

  She tossed him a glance. “What do you mean?”

  He chugged the water. “In times like this, a person’s true colors come out. You being a woman, well, you need to take care while picking up strangers.”

  “I can take care of myself. If you try to take what’s mine, I’ll cut your throat.”

  4

  Rachel and Eric hunkered down in an abandoned garage. With grey clouds still blanketing the sky, she depended on her watch and her body’s tiredness to alert her when it was night. They chanced a small fire, and she stirred a can of beef stew.

  One week after the outbreak and she’d bet she’d lost five pounds. Not exactly the type of diet she’d recommend. She and Eric had spotted other survivors, skittish people who hid at the first sight of them. That suited her fine. Especially with Eric’s warning about intense situations bringing out the worst in some people.

  They’d managed to kill plenty of the undead in the last week, but Rachel didn’t think she could actually bury a hatchet in the head of someone living or put a bullet between their eyes, despite her threat to Eric a few days ago.

  “Man, I wish we had some beer.” Eric removed his can and used a plastic spoon to fish out a bite.

  “We can try to find some, but that will mean going into town.” Unless the back road they traveled had a Mom and Pop store. Maybe they’d find some more shotgun shells stashed behind a country store counter.

  Eric motioned his head toward a truck with a camper shell. “How do you feel about switching vehicles?”

  She glanced over. A headless corpse hung from the open door. “There’s a dead body.”

  “Yeah, but I’m betting most of the blood is on the ground outside of the truck. And,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I bet the keys are in the ignition. I’m thinking it might be nice to sleep on a mattress.”

  With her, he meant. He hadn’t kept his attraction to her a secret, and Rachel would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted. The touch from another human that didn’t want to bite off her face would be worth a million cans of stew. But…contact brought intimacy which brought caring, and she didn’t want to have feelings for anyone. Not in the w
orld they now lived in.

  A can clattered across the concrete.

  Rachel bolted to her feet, one hand on the wicked weapon hanging from her belt. She wanted to call out a warning, but noise brought the living and the dead. She glanced at the low burning fire and sighed. The lure of a hot meal could be their downfall.

  “Put your back next to mine,” Eric said. “We can’t be caught unaware that way. We’ll protect each other.”

  She nodded, her heart in her throat. Please, only let there be one. They hadn’t had to fight more than three at a time since joining together. Their good luck couldn’t last forever, but Rachel’s strength was failing. She needed a night of worry-free sleep. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll take you up on that offer of a mattress.”

  “For more than sleep?” He chuckled.

  “In your dreams.”

  “Every night.”

  She grinned and watched as a man in a janitorial cover-up and a woman wearing a suit and one high heel lumbered their way. “I’ll take the business bitch.”

  “You got it.” Eric stepped away from her and meandered toward their company. “His name is Fred.”

  “I don’t want to know what their names used to be.” She handled the situation better if she didn’t look at them as having once been human. She raised her weapon and cleaved the woman’s skull. Stupid things. Couldn’t even fight back. Shuffled forward day-by-day in their never-ending quest for food. Rachel wasn’t much different, if she thought about it. Sustenance meant survival for both species.

  She wiped her knife clean on the woman’s suit jacket then marched toward the camper while Eric tossed the bodies onto the fire. With any luck, they’d burst into flame and disintegrate.

  Rachel yanked the headless man from the cab. Yes, the keys were in the ignition. “Welcome home. Let’s transfer the supplies.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eric jogged to the truck. “I’m getting a good night’s sleep tonight.”

  The poor man on the ground must have turned, then had his head severed almost immediately. Which meant…there were others out there, living and breathing, who knew how to fight. Should they try to find them and hope they could band together? A large group of people would have a better chance at surviving. The zombies seemed to congregate together, the living needed to follow their example.

  Eventually, the zombie bodies would deteriorate, right? And the world could recover, if anyone was left to rebuild.

  She moved to the back door of the camper and opened it. A woman fell out, then immediately reached for Rachel’s leg. “Back off, bitch.” Rachel jabbed her knife through the woman’s open mouth. “This is my home now.”

  “Heartless.” Eric approached with a case of water in his arms.

  “Yeah, well, nowadays a person needs to be. Let me check the inside before you come in.” Knife at the ready, she climbed the two metal steps and peered into the dark recesses of the camper. A suspended mattress over a table with two bench seats. A small sink. A closet that was most likely the toilet, and a few cupboards. A real penthouse. “Come on up. There’s nowhere for anyone to hide in here.”

  Eric climbed in and stacked the water next to the sink. “Not a lot of room.”

  “All we need is the bed,” Rachel told him. “Pile the supplies on every available surface. I’ll shove what I can into the cupboards.”

  Supplies transferred, Rachel stared at the Chevy. Such a beautiful truck. “I hate leaving her behind.”

  “We’ll find you another one once we settle someplace.” Eric put an arm around her shoulder and planted a kiss on her cheek. “We’ll find a cute little place in the country where you’ll finally succumb to my charms. Maybe, we’ll find a couple of kids that survived and have our own little apocalyptic family.”

  Rachel laughed and squeezed his hand. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “I’m going to see if the toilet works.” He stepped into the camper and helped her up. Then—opened the closet with a flourish. A child stumbled out and latched its teeth onto his forearm.

  Eric yelled and fell back.

  Rachel grabbed her knife and rammed it through the little girl’s head. The zombie let go and fell.

  Eric raised wide eyes. “Well, damn. She bit me.”

  5

  Rachel raised her knife, barely able to make our Eric’s features through her tears.

  He raised his hands. “Wait. Please. Don’t kill me yet. Wait until I die. Talk with me. I want the last thing I see to be your face. The last sound to be your voice.”

  “Oh, Eric.” She set her knife on the floor and knelt beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was my own carelessness.” He pushed to his feet and eyed the mattress. “It still looks mighty fine, but I don’t want my blood on it when you put a bullet through my brain. Take my gun when I’m gone. It’s handier than that shotgun you carry on your back.”

  Rachel nodded and swallowed back tears. She wanted to give him the kiss he’d been asking for, make love to him, but held back. She didn’t know when the contagion started. Maybe it was after the reanimation, maybe it was when first bitten. The only thing she did know was that once a fever started, the person was dead.

  Did the flu-like symptoms still plague people or had they run their course? She swiped her hand across her eyes. “Can I get you something? Water? A bite to eat?”

  “No. Don’t waste any of your supplies on a dead man.” He scooted into the small amount of seat left on one side of the table, then waved a hand for Rachel to sit on the other end. “When I start getting feverish, I’ll go outside to sit.” He reached across the table for her hand. “You shouldn’t have to clean me up.”

  The tears started again. “I wouldn’t mind.” She cupped his cheek with her free hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

  She shrugged. “Everything. Helping me, keeping me from going insane, showing me life was still worth living.”

  “Find that safe place, Rachel.” He stood. “Don’t leave people behind. Save as many as you can.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’re holding onto a big secret, and it’s eating you alive. Let it go. The past is gone. We can only forge ahead.”

  She rested her forehead on his chest. “I had a hand in all this, Eric. I’m partially responsible for you dying.” She raised her head and stared into his eyes. “I was a research assistant at the facility where they created this virus. When the meteors hit—”

  He put his forefinger over her lips. “It’s not your fault. The meteor shower was an act of God. A tantrum of an angry Mother Nature. Call it what you will, but it was not your fault. I’ve got to go outside now.”

  She nodded and choked on a sob. She’d felt his temperature rising from the simple touch on her lips. She wanted to hold him back, beg him to stay, scream her anger and frustration at God. Surely, there were people on this earth that were immune. People that could survive a bite. It couldn’t be the end of the human race.

  Once outside, he slumped against the wheel. “Make sure you do it right, Rachel. I don’t want to come back as one of those things.”

  “I will.” She knelt in front of him, his gun in her lap. “I wouldn’t curse you to that type of existence.”

  He stared at the feeble light showing over the wall. “Sure would’ve liked to see the sunset one more time, you know? I’m going to miss its return.”

  “It’ll be beautiful.” Rachel forced the words past her clogged throat. “Shades of eggplant, mauve, and pumpkin, streaking across the sky with the sun a glorious yellow orb in the middle of it all. After the darkness, the sky will be such a brilliant indigo as the sun sets, it’ll blind you.”

  He closed his eyes. “I can see it.”

  She wiped away the tears. Would they ever stop once he was gone? She didn’t want to forget him. Life shouldn’t be easy for her. This was why she didn’t want to be around people. She couldn’t afford to get attached. Life was cruel now, bent on a personal vengeance agai
nst humankind.

  The sound of a diesel engine rose on the night air. Out on the nearby highway, life went on. Rachel would, too. She’d merge back onto the main interstate and take her chances. She’d keep her promise to Eric to keep living.

  She watched his chest rise and fall, ready to pull the trigger the moment he remained still. She knew the signs. After all, she’d witnessed them several times in a laboratory.

  His breathing slowed, yet didn’t stop. Rachel leaned forward, planting a kiss between his eyes, marking the spot she’d put the bullet.

  Eric grasped her hand. “Not yet. I’m still…here.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Only a few moments remained. The touch of his hand seemed to sear her skin. How could he be so hot and still coherent?

  “When another guy comes along, someone nice to you, give him a chance. You deserve happiness.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t want someone else. She wanted Eric. If she’d known that one week could lodge a comedic, confident, arrogant man so firmly into her heart, would she have let him in the truck that day? Yeah. Yeah, she would have.

  His body jerked, then spasmed. He groaned, but continued to breath. What was happening? Rachel frowned. Normally, a person just closed their eyes, and left. He jerked again.

  “Eric?” She stood and took a step back, aiming the pistol at the spot she’d chosen. “Can you hear me?”

  He held out a hand to her.

  The End

  ***

  Dear Reader:

  I hope you enjoyed the prequel to my Zombie Awakening series. Join a young group of survivors as they fight through a hostile world. Learn more of what happened after meteors unleashed a monster.

  Book one: The Darkening