17
Diablo
Darkness fell and he was hungry again. He was always hungry, nothing satisfied the craving. The pack had already cleaned out the undead wandering around town and they learned how to get to those inside the houses. Windows broke if they slammed into them hard enough. Diablo led them a place of slaughter just outside of town and they had fed heavily on the dead lying in the road. They ate and slept then ate some more, the food supply seemed endless for a time. The ingestion of so much nanobot infested meat overloaded their senses. It wasn’t enough to feed and rest anymore, they wanted to feast until they burst. Already they were picking off their own members and ripping savagely into them. Blood splattered and fur flew as those too slow to avoid the larger animals became meals for their own pack. The raccoons and opossums scampered to the trees, out of reach of the snapping jaws of the coyotes and wild dogs. The boars and sows ripped their razor-sharp tusks into anything that got too close, including each other. The feral cats scattered into culverts or abandoned cars, away from the savagery of the pack. Yet, none went far. None would break away from the pack. The horde mentality, the need to bunch together in massive numbers, overrode their sense of self preservation. The raccoons and opossums leapt from limb to limb as they followed the odd procession. The buzzards, ravens and crows observed it all from the safety of the treetops, darting in to grab the scraps that weren’t devoured. A bit of flesh, a shard of bone. A piece of fur with a little bloody skin attached. It was all precious and worth fighting to the death over.
The moon was high as Diablo followed the old familiar route. They had fled at the sound of the machine guns, out of town and back into the woods. They hid for hours, waited until darkness fell before they came back out. Now he padded along the fences of the zoo, the same as he had many times before. Only his survival instincts had kept him from pushing under the gates and feeding during his many trips to this same spot. He feared the claws of the little ones and the roar of the mighty beasts that guarded them. His kind were cowardly. Scavengers. They were the garbage disposals of the world. They took the weak or stole their kills from stronger animals by sheer numbers and deceit. But he hungered and nothing he ate satisfied him. He craved the hot blood of the living and the madness worming its way through his mind grew stronger with each mouthful of undead flesh he ate.
He had watched the wolf girl raiding the dens of the humans. Diablo had refrained from taking her several times because of the presence of her pack. They had sensed him but the human smells were strong in the dens and they masked his own. He yearned for the taste of her flesh in his jaws. Reveled in the thought of thrusting his muzzle into her body and eating the protein rich organs while they still pulsed with hot blood. Cracking open her bones with his powerful jaws and devouring the sweet marrow inside. Yet, he’d refrained. The wolf girl killed the stinking ones and left them where they lay. Diablo was confused by the act, she didn’t eat the stinking prey. So, he watched and when she left the bodies he and his pack gobbled down the kills that had her smell on them. It was the hyena way.
His own insatiable need overwhelmed his caution and pushed him forward along the fences. He hungered for the warm blood, could smell it from miles away. Humans had scarred him. Kept him caged, half-starved and beaten. Forced him to fight for his life for their entertainment. The wolf and the girl had killed his brother, his litter mate. He hated and feared them but the cowardice grew less every day as the yearning for their flesh grew stronger.
His nose sorted out the scents, told him they were all there. He’d tracked their smells for months. Had them ingrained in his memory. Their sweat, their urine left on trees or in the bushes. He knew them all intimately. He was ready to take her, he would wait no longer but the wolf girl hadn’t made her solitary hunts outside the fences for days. There had been no dead stinking ones covered with her scent. No deer entrails for his motley pack to fight over. A new human had come, bloodied and weak, and they took him inside. He carried a strange scent that had disrupted their cycle. There was something maddening about his smell that drove the hyena crazy. Diablo lifted his nose but he couldn’t detect that one anymore. His scent had been all over the stinking ones that littered the roadway outside of town. There was enough there for them all to feed without fighting. The pack had gorged themselves for days. Even the smallest had known the comfort of a full belly. But that was many days ago. Food was in short supply now with the disappearance of the horde and the few stragglers they stalked left many of them without an opportunity to feed. Yesterday’s feast was tomorrow’s famine. The more they ate, the more they wanted.
Diablo craved their warm flesh and would be denied no longer. He whined at the thought of the hot blood that would cascade over his mottled coat. He found the weak spot in the fence he’d marked. He pushed his scarred muzzle against it and wormed his way under the gap. The pack followed. The nimbler ones scampered over the eight-foot chain link while others pawed at the ground, each eager to be among the first to feed. The moon shone full overhead and the birds darted across it, casting fleeting shadows on the ground. Thousands of beating wings stirred the leaves in the trees as they settled and watched or circled and cawed, watching for an opportunity to dive in and steal bits of flesh.
They approached downwind of the house and followed the smells of the chickens and goats. They approached the petting zoo on silent feet, soft whines and growls came from their throats at the anticipation of feeding. The cow sleeping in her stall didn’t smell them, didn’t sense the danger as she chewed her cud. The roosting chickens never heard them. The goats were oblivious to the threat until it was too late.
Diablo leapt into the stall with the milk cow and snapped her neck before the first startled bawl escaped her lips. Her eyes were wide with fear when another set of jaws tore at her throat and pulled her down. Hungry maws were filled with warm delicious blood as the animals leapt over the short wall and ripped mouthfuls free. The hyena ignored the cats and raccoons that swarmed over the thrashing body as he ripped at her soft belly. Ropes of intestines spilled out in coils and he probed deeper for the choicest bites. The heart, liver and kidneys. He growled at the others that got too close. They ignored him. They were biting and ripping anywhere they could, a madness overcoming them.
A raccoon washed his hands in blood, snapped off chunks of flesh and snarled at the other creatures. Opossums slashed at her soft nose as ravens cawed and pecked away at her eyes. It was a like watching a shark frenzy or a school of piranhas strip an animal to the bone in a matter of moments.
Coyotes and wild dogs attacked the chicken wire of the coop, snapping mindlessly at the metal, forcing snouts then heads through the openings. They ignored the tearing of skin, the broken teeth and the bleeding jaws. The pack was feverish with the insatiable lust for blood. The hens squawked and flapped their wings, each trying to find a spot on the highest roosting poles. The eaters of the dead pushed through the newly chewed holes and fell on them as feathers flew and terrified cries split the night. The rooster flapped and spurred at the beasts, slapped them with his wings and fought to protect his brood. They tore him to shreds. Wild dogs darted in, gulped down the eggs and within seconds, the only sounds coming from the coop was the snapping of bones and warning growls from the pack.
The two hundred fifty-pound boar tore through the flimsy gate of the goat pen and others rushed in behind him. The herd bleated and ran, tried to leap over the walls but there was nowhere to go. Tusks ripped and shredded flesh.
The barnyard animals were all dead and eaten within minutes, the attack so swift and brutal that their cries were cut short. The Savage Ones devoured them all, bathed in the blood, but were unsatisfied. They still hungered.
Bert, Ziggy and Millie heard from their enclosures and snorted warnings. The gates were left open for them to wander in and out as they pleased and when the hungering beasts came for them, they ran. Bert stomped them under foot, Millie bowled them over and Ziggy easily outdistanced all of them. The Savage Ones d
idn’t chase far, there was easier meat to bring down.
Diablo, gore stained and insane emerged from the stall and raised his snout to smell the air. He didn’t sniff for danger, he was beyond fear. He wanted more blood. The cow wasn’t enough. She filled his belly but didn’t fill the gnawing ache, the need for more. He smelled panic and terror and followed it on the breeze.
His nose led him to the enclosure where the foaling antelopes and gazelles were penned. The mixed herd bunched in the far corner and darted back and forth along the fence line, desperate to escape from the smell of death coming from a band of savage killers. He ran at the fence and tried to scale it but fell hard to the ground. It was too tall but he wouldn’t be denied. He started digging at the base, and watched his next kills scatter and regroup. Run then stand still in fear. His yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight and a quiet, laughing panting sound mixed with his snarls. Others saw and mimicked his movements. They dug. Dirt flew and soon animals were clawing their way under the fence in a tidal wave of filthy fur and snapping teeth.
Diablo laughed his barking laugh as the others tore into the herd, savaged them and pulled them down. He was far larger than any of them and hadn’t made it under before the bloodletting was finished. He snarled his frustration but he knew it wasn’t the blood he wanted. It wasn’t the blood he craved. Only the wolf girl would sate his appetite. Her or one of the others.
He watched as his pack ferociously tore into them. The antelopes and gazelle flailed their hooves in desperate attempts to protect themselves and their young but it was no use. The Savage Ones swept over them like a flood. They feasted. Their bellies distended from the huge chunks of meat that were forced into them. The blood lust was up and they reveled in killing for the sake of killing. The power of the pack surged through them. The thrill of the hunt flowed in their veins.
Diablo lifted his bloodied nose to the sky. He caught the children’s scents from the big den. He moved in that direction. He still ached from the hunger that hadn’t been satisfied but tonight he would feast on those he feared. Theirs was the blood he needed, fresh and hot and most important, human. His pack followed toward the house as the carrion birds descended from the sky to pick through the remains of the fallen herd.
18
Tribe
“Hush, Zero.” Swan said sleepily and swatted at the wolf who was growling low in his throat.
Zero didn’t hush and the pups joined him. They stood, formed a protective circle around her and growled their warnings, hackles raised and fangs bared. Otis chuffed loudly and raised his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t like what he smelled and rose to his feet. Sage chittered and scrambled with the rest of the monkeys to hide under Murray’s blanket. Kodiak sat up and threw his covers off. Everyone was awake and scrambling for weapons.
“Gordon’s back.” Swan said as Popsicle roared a challenge from the front porch.
Dust shook down from the rafters as Daisy joined in, the polar bears bellowing their defiance.
“Get them inside!” Kodiak yelled “They’ll shoot them!”
“Where’s Donny?” Harper yelled. “He was on guard!”
Tobias and Analise both sprang for the doors, fear for their companions and friend overriding any fear for themselves. Popsicle stood on his hind legs, his head brushing the rafters of the covered porch. The twins were half as tall and only weighed a fraction of the roaring bears and were ignored. Intruders were coming for them and they wouldn’t run from a fight.
They heard the barking laugh of a hyena coming from the blackness and then the snarling, yipping and grunting of a hundred dogs, coyotes and wild hogs as they tore through the carefully planted garden. The stalks danced and fell, the crops trampled underfoot. Swan swore and darted out to the porch, an arrow already nocked in the compound bow.
Donny and Yewan came sprinting out of the darkness, they had been walking the perimeter near the river when the heard the frightened bleats of the goats.
“Hurry!” Vanessa urged but he was already running as fast as he could, his panther pacing him, never leaving his side. A boar turned and charged him, it’s tusks glistening with fresh blood. Swan loosed her arrow as Donny flung his spear. Both buried deep in the ridge back, the hog squealed and stumbled but got back to his feet. Donny darted around as Yewan leapt over him and they bounded onto the porch.
A pack of hundreds had stopped their charge for the house at the challenge from the mighty bears. Beady eyes glowed in the moonlight as the birds circled and cawed overhead. They formed a half circle around the house, all manner of wild carrion animals that had no business running together. It was as unnatural as their hunger and it urged them forward. They could smell the blood and sweat of the children and the longing to fill their bellies was stronger than their fear.
“Get back in the house.” Kodiak said quietly as the line of animals hunkered low and crept closer, their eyes on the humans. They were bloodied and gore coated from fresh kills and their fangs glistened red.
“Bert.” Harper whispered but there was nothing they could do for the animals in the barn.
“Get them in the house.” Kodiak repeated. “They’ll be torn apart out here.”
His eyes were wide and fear hammered his heart. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d rather face down a horde of zombies. He’d rather see Gordon and his goons, he knew how to fight something like that. The low snarls and growls of the savage ones were all around them. Teeth were bared. Muzzles dripped with fresh blood.
“SHOO!” he bellowed at them, stomped his boot on the porch and flapped his arms. They kept coming, slinking closer and their hungry eyes never left him.
“Everybody inside.” He said and started backing for the doors. “They’ve gone mad.”
The twins pushed at their polars and they allowed themselves to be led inside at the urging of their humans, Swan called her wolves and they barred the doors.
“You okay?” Kodiak asked a panting Donny
He nodded and grabbed the rest of his spears from the oversized planter that held them.
“I’m going upstairs.” Swan said. “I can get a clear shot at Diablo from the roof.”
“We should be safe in here.” Tobias said, stroking his big friend to calm him. “They’ll go away once the sun comes up won’t they?”
19
The Battle for Piedmont House
They swept through the garden in a wave. Months of back breaking labor was churned underfoot by a thousand paws as the crazed animals attacked. The corn was knocked down and trampled by their sheer numbers. Beans and tomatoes were ground into the earth. Melons and cantaloupes burst under the weight of the endless wave of bodies that descended on the House. The feral hogs shredded the plastic sheeting of the green house and knocked over the buckets and planters. The flimsy structure listed sideways as the wall supports bowed under the press of animal flesh. The hogs devoured everything in their paths. Carrots, onions and potatoes were shoveled in their maws or ground underfoot. Nothing in the small building was spared as they pushed their way through the outer wall to join the others as they descended on the house.
The smaller animals, the raccoons and opossums, ignored the challenge of the bears and scurried up the gutter pipes to get to the eaves and access to the attic. They gnawed at the wires of the chimney cap, forced themselves through the wire mesh and shimmied down. They found weak spots in the louvered vents and squeezed inside.
Diablos headlong charge for the house stopped when he saw the massive bears blocking the doors and his pack stopped with him. They were crazy, insane with blood frenzy, but the thousand-pound polar bears dwarfed them and they crouched low, out of his reach. They yipped, barked and snarled their defiance but none rushed forward to meet the challenge. These weren’t helpless prey, they were the predators and they had the claws and teeth to kill anything that charged them. The standoff ended when the bears disappeared inside and the house stood like so many others they had breached. The windows were the weak point, food was
inside and they followed the laughing bark of their alpha as he leaped up the steps. The hogs battered at the doors. Coyotes charged at the windows and threw themselves through the glass in a bid to be the first to feast on the children they could see scurrying about inside. The shouts and cries of the humans was a beacon, it drew them forward and they knew their meat is what they craved. Their flesh would finally satisfy the craving.
The noise was unbearable, a thousand snarling, barking, howls of hunger was answered with vicious challenges from bears and wolves and the scream of a panther promising violence and death.
The cats forced themselves through the gap in the storm cellar, larger animals widened the opening and they raced for the stairs. Jars of canned vegetables exploded as they were swept from the shelves to shatter on the floor. They bound through the broken glass, ignored the cuts to their paws and legs. Desperate to feed they charged up the stairway and plowed through the door into the kitchen.
The windows imploded as furry bodies slammed through them. Vanessa’s spear arced through the air and killed the first coyote that charged through the shattered opening. She prayed they hadn’t attacked Ziggy or Bert, and that they had enough time run away. She wanted to go to her companion, to make sure she was safe, to hop on her back and flee far away but the battle was here. Within seconds she was fighting for her life and nothing else mattered.
The front doors splintered and bounced open and three hundred pounds of wild hog barely slowed as the sow barreled inside. More behind her squealed and grunted as they all tried to fit through the opening at once. Kodiak flung himself into the fray, swung his hammer at the nearest one. It connected with a sickening crunch of bone and spray of blood and the beast fell, then the rest were charging him. There was no time to think of strategy, no orderly plans of attack, no organized resistance. It was curses and screams and violence and blood. It was trying to stay away from the snapping, biting teeth of a hundred animals. It was try to kill the biggest that could do the most damage and try to ignore the little bites and scratches of the cats and raccoons.
The Feral Children (Book 2): Savages Page 13
