Earl’s eyes widened as the gun ricocheted from the wall and bounced on the floor. “How dare you! You stupid little…”
Farrah closed her fist, but I grabbed her wrist before she could make contact.
“Let it go Farrah,” I said as I began pulling her to the door.
She grabbed her bag from the floor, and as we passed Edith, she shook my hand while apologizing to both of us. Earl stayed on the other side of the room with a stare that never glanced away.
As Farrah and I exited the cellar, time seemed to become slow motion as we looked around. I noticed the chaos that had been caused from the destruction of the tornadoes overnight. The dim sun beamed a light, cascading the separated body parts scattered around the still muddy and torn up ground. The damage of the uprooted trees led my eyes to a sight of the only thing left standing from the house was the chimney. The other pieces of the house had vanished. We stepped towards the broken fence and walked across the damp field. More severed heads and limbs had been secured in the wet ground from the storm. I could hear the constant chomping at our legs as we passed.
“Atlas. I hope our conversation last night hasn’t forced you to see me differently. I know that I put my feelings on you pretty hardcore, but I just wanted to make sure that if we didn’t survive the storm last night, you knew how I felt. Since we are alive though, we can put that behind us,” Farrah said as we marched through the open field. I didn’t say anything. I just nodded at her agreeing and kept walking.
Chapter 18
“Get down,” I said as we turned the corner of an old sewing factory with broken bricks barely holding the foundation.
“What is it,” Farrah asked me.
“Do you hear that,” I asked.
A faint roar escaped through the empty streets. A loud whistle accompanied multiple men wearing white hoods walking past abandoned cars. Flamed torches lit everything around them overshadowing the evenings suns light.
“Where did you go boy,” a raspy voice asked. I searched around with my eyes looking for the person they were whistling for. “We know you’re around here somewhere!”
A three-story building across the road harbored who they were searching for. A young teenage boy with dreads to his shoulders was peeking out of the window. I tapped Farrah on the shoulder and pointed towards the corner window.
“We in the mood for some dark meat,” another man yelled before the group started laughing. “We will take good care of the girl you’re with, after we hang you for the abomination you are.”
Of course, even in the apocalypse there are always racist assholes marching up a street hosting a Klan rally.
“Shine your flashlight towards the window. Get his attention,” I told Farrah.
Farrah held the flashlight in her hand and clicked it as fast as a strobe light. The boy turned to us. Before he ducked from the window, I waved at him. I signaled for him to stay there. He nodded in agreement and ducked below the window seal.
“We need to get them out of here,” I told Farrah.
“We won’t be able to sneak them past all of them. We need to take them out. It’s not like they are respected members of society anyways,” Farrah said. “Who knows how many times they have done this or will continue to do it. They need to not exist.”
Farrah was right. These people weren’t doing the world any favors. They weren’t part of the rebuild, they were a backwards steppingstone.
“Ok. Let’s snug them in between those two cars right there. I’m going to go around the back of this building. Give me about twenty seconds to reach the other side. Then I want you to go out and grab their attention. I’ll whistle for the back of the group to face me behind that box truck. As soon as you hear my whistle, begin firing,” I explained.
“Gotcha,” Farrah agreed.
“Check your weapon, make sure you have a full mag,” I commanded.
“It’s always full,” Farrah replied.
As I turned to go around the building, Farrah tapped me on the shoulder. “Be careful.”
“Always,” I replied.
The crunch of the grass was hidden by the constant loud remarks of the Ku Klux Klan strutting down the road. The constant use of a Civil War slander secured their reason to die this day.
“Come out you damn monkey,” one of the men yelled.
“Hey,” I heard Farrah yell. “You racist dumb shits. Why don’t you come over here and try your shit with me?”
“Well lookie here boys. We have ourselves another treat for the hunt,” one man said.
“I bet you smell really nice there,” another commented,
“She kind of looks like a mutt as well. You got that injin blood in you girl,” another man asked.
I made my way to the box truck and set my rifle on the hood. Farrah kept them distracted. I noticed a faint scent of rotting meat and no shower for decades coming with the wind from behind me. A subtle hoard of drifters was marching their way towards the yelling coming from the group of men.
“Yes, I do. Do you have that lead in yours,” Farrah asked.
I placed my fingers into my mouth and blew a whistle that could deafen a dog. As they turned, I pressed my trigger as Farrah did hers. Bullets whistled through their bodies. Torches fell to the pavement, but one separated from the group and ran towards the building the boy was in.
“Farrah, catch him,” I yelled while pointing to the man running and disappearing inside the doorway.
Farrah sprinted towards the building. I ran to the pile of bodies where some were still screaming in agonizing pain. As I passed them a buildup of my saliva added insult to injury as it landed on one of their foreheads.
“You stupid son of a…” one man began to say before a quick shot to the skull shut him up.
As I approached the door a sound of crashing glass, a quick scream and a rambunctious thud appeared. The man lay on the sidewalk with blood pouring from his head, limbs twisted and a shoe that had fallen off during impact.
I looked up towards the building and Farrah stuck her head out of the window. “We’re good.”
I ran up the stairs into a room where Farrah stood with a scrawny teenage boy dressed in a Superman t-shirt and army camouflaged pants. A younger girl stood with him clothed in a Hannah Montana t-shirt, ripped jeans, and shoes too big for her feet.
“You guys ok,” I asked while walking towards them.
“Yes. Thank you, sir,” the boy said behind a shaking voice. “Those men have been chasing us for a while now.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I replied. “What’s your names?”
“My name is Javen; this is my sister Taria.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. Where are you headed,” I asked.
“We’re going to our aunts house by the river,” Javen replied as he pulled a folded map from his pocket. Our mom gave us this map and drew a line for us to follow to get there before she died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How long have you been on your own,” Farrah asked.
“Maybe a week. Mom got bit and told us to follow this map to Aunt Charlene’s house near Black Water. She didn’t want to be around us when she turned. So, she walked with us as long as she could until she ran away in the middle of the night,” Javen replied. “A couple days later, those men began following us.” Javen paused for a moment. “You don’t happen to have any food or water, do you? My sister and I haven’t eaten in a couple days and we are really thirsty.”
“Of course.” Farrah reached into her bag and handed Javen and Taria a bottle of water and fruit bars. “They can’t follow you anymore. Atlas and I took care of them.”
“We have another problem,” I said as I looked at Farrah. “There is a hoard coming this way and there is too many to fight. They will be munching on those bodies down there for a while since some are still screaming and drawing their attention. If we are going to make it out of here, we must leave now while they get distracted. How far away is your aunt’s house from here?”
; Javen handed me the crinkled map between eating his fruit bar and drinking his water.
“Ok. We are here. Your aunt’s house is about twenty miles away. Do you mind if we tag along to make sure you make it there safely,” I asked.
“Mind? I was going to ask if you would. We don’t have any weapons but a walking stick and a one-armed Barbie doll,” Javen said.
Loud moans appeared outside. I looked out the window and saw the hoard had approached the box truck.
“We have to go now. Head out the back door of the building. I’m going to grab one of their weapons for Javen and I’ll catch up,” I said.
“Okay. Come on kids. Come with me,” Farrah said after looking out the window.
As they went down the stairs and out the back, I ran to the street to grab a gun from one of the bodies in the pile. I began to turn away when a voice spoke.
“Don’t leave me here man,” a voice pleaded. “I didn’t even know these guys. It was just a group I found. Please don’t leave me,” he said as he laid on the pavement holding his leg.
“Don’t explain yourself to me. Explain yourself to them,” I said as I pointed towards the zombies attaching themselves to the bodies.
“Please man! Don’t do this,” he panicked.
“I’m not doing anything. They are,” I said as I ran towards Farrah and the kids standing at the side of the building signaling me to hurry.
His words became a constant scream and faded to nothing as he was feasted upon. We didn’t have to explain to Javen who or what those people were because he said where he was from there were more. In a world full of evil and darkness some people thrive to keep the light out. The darkness in them never fades so the darkness is where they will go.
Chapter 19
A bushel of roses surrounded the wood cabin. A porch swing tied to the large beams on the roof simplified a life that seemed to not be touched by ravaging beasts from Hell. Honey suckle graced the rich greenery as we walked closer to the cabin.
“It smells like my childhood home,” I said as we walked closer into the yard.
“I would have loved to have visited there if this smell reminds you of it,” Farrah said.
“It is long gone. Burned to the ground during the beginning,” I replied.
“Well that sucks,” Farrah said. “Way to corrupt the smell.”
As we approached the porch the door swung open and a loud cocking of a shot gun appeared.
“Stop right there,” a man’s voice yelled. We halted with our hands in the air. “State your business!”
He was a brute seasoned gentleman with dark skin wearing a black and grey flannel shirt. His stance was prepared for fight and protection.
“Hello sir. My name is Atlas. This is my friend Farrah. These two are Javen and Taria. We were under the impression that their Aunt Charlene lived here.”
The man lowered his shot gun and stared towards us. “By the grace of God. Javen! Taria!”
“Uncle Pete,” Javen yelled as he and Taria ran to hug him.
Pete ran down the steps and met them halfway in the yard with wide open arms.
“That man looks familiar,” I said to Farrah with our arms still raised in the air.
“What do you mean,” Farrah asked.
“Charlene! Charlene! They’re alive,” Pete yelled.
Through the door a seasoned dark toned woman with a floral shirt and neck length brunette hair ran down the stairs.
“Oh, my babies. Oh my God, my babies. You’re here. I can’t believe it. I am so glad you’re ok,” Charlene said behind a crackled voice as she hugged them tight.
Pete looked at Farrah and I with a smile.
“You can put your hands down.” Pete walked over towards us. “Thank you so much for bringing my niece and nephew home. What were your names again?”
“I’m Farrah,” Farrah said as Pete shook her hand.
Pete turned to me and stuck out his hand.
“Pete Montgomery,” I asked as I shook his hand.
Pete stared into my eyes with a moment of confusion.
“Oh, Sam Hell. Atlas Conrad,” Pete said as he pulled me in for a hug followed by joyful laughter. “Damn boy, how are ya?”
“Surviving,” I replied.
“If anyone could, it would be you boy. Ah shit. Please come on in. You too mam,” Pete offered. “It’s good to see you boy.”
“It’s good to see you too. I see you let that beard finally grow.” I replied.
“No need to look professional anymore. It is a bitch to keep clean though,” Pete chuckled.
Candles kept the dining room area lit as supper laid on the table. Charlene placed glasses of water on placement mats before sitting at the table with Farrah, Pete, and I. Javen and Taria rested in the living room, huddled together under a woven buffalo blanket.
“I never thought I’d see you again in a million years Pete,” I said before taking a sip of water.
“Apparently that million years came a little early. After you left for the military, I sold the shooting range and retired to Florida for a couple of years,” Pete explained. “Brian had done passed. God rest his soul. And with all of you and your buddies off fighting the good fight, that place really didn’t have much meaning to me anymore.”
“Brian was a good man. I noticed after I came back, they turned the shooting range into a Deer Hunting Lodge. What was it called,” I asked.
“Horny Henry’s,” Pete replied.
“Yea. Was that Hairy Henry who bought the place,” I asked.
“Yes, it was. He had won the Powerball two months before I put it up for sale. The jackpot was one hundred and forty million dollars,” Pete replied. “Lucky bastard.”
“Watch your mouth at my table,” Charlene said.
“Sorry,” Pete replied.
“A lot of good that money does now,” I said.
“You ain’t kidding,” Pete replied. “He didn’t last long after all of this happened either.”
“Really, what happened to him,” I asked.
“He opened that place up because he thought guns is what made the man. Women should have been all over him. Money, weapons, he wanted to be Al Pacino without the drugs. And we all knew he had a thing for prostitutes. He was arrested a couple times back in the 90’s for soliciting,” Pete replied.
“Oh yea. I remember every time he was walking down the road and my mom saw him while we were driving, she would always tell me to stay away from him. She said he had just got out of jail for being caught doing the nasty in Wal-Mart parking lot,” I replied behind a laugh.
“Yes sir. That man never knew to use his own bed,” Pete informed. “Of course, he was still living with his mother at forty-seven years old. I’m sure if his mom ever caught him doing it, she would have beat him black and blue. She was a strong old bird. Had a thicker mustache than mine,” Pete said while laughing. “Well, even with all of those guns he still couldn’t shoot the ass off an ass.”
“I told you to watch your mouth at my table,” Charlene said as she smacked Pete on the shoulder.
“All right, all right. Tongue being clipped. Anyways, word was he stationed himself on top of Horny Henry’s and tried to snipe some biters as they roamed over to his yard. But what he forgot to remember was certain guns take certain bullets. He was trying to fire .22s out 9mm, 12 gauges out of 10 gauges, just a catastrophe. He had also forgotten he let a lady of the night stay with him. So, as he was trying to switch to proper ammo, she had apparently been bitten and turned. She crawled up to the roof and had old Henry for lunch,” Pete explained.
“Wow, poor Henry,” I said. “Who told you that story?”
“The Farmer brothers from Union Hill. I ran into them close to Red Boiling Springs when I was out looking for supplies. They traveled through a year or so back just trying to go south where it never gets cold. No worries with freezing to death because of no heat. Plus, they heard the edge of Florida was a safe haven,” Pete said.
“Really,” Farrah as
ked.
“Nah, you know dang well there is no safe haven. Every inch of this world is infested. The only chance anyone has is staying quiet in the wilderness such as us,” Pete acknowledged. “I did hear through some CB chatter that there was a group of people called the Zeebs traveling and trying to save people though. Making some real headway through the wastelands.”
“You mean the Z.E.D.S.,” I asked.
“Yea that’s it. Heroic folk from what I’ve heard. They have sprung families from hoards, went to Louisville in search for a cure. They out there trying to get things back to normal. A fool’s errand if you ask me, but at least they are trying,” Pete said.
“How many people have you been in contact with on the radio,” I asked.
“People from all around the country. People are more resilient than I ever thought. I heard of another group of people that are recruiting for an army. Apparently, they want to kill anyone that doesn’t join them. I don’t know what their plans are, but a man named Warren is scouring around,” Pete explained.
“Warren Cross,” I asked.
“Yea, that man. He is an evil son of a… son of a gun that man. He has killed more than Hitler himself,” Pete said.
“Has anyone said where he might be over the radio,” I asked.
“Now Atlas, don’t go looking for trouble. I remember when you would come to the shooting range all you talked about was fighting evil with your comic books and such, but this man is pure evil,” Pete demanded.
“This man took my daughter Pete. I have to find him,” I explained.
“I didn’t know you had kids,” Pete said.
“This world gave me one,” I replied.
Pete stroked his beard as he thought. “You brought us our niece and nephew. The least I can do is get you some information. I’ll get on the radio and see what I can find out,” Pete said.
Pete rose from his chair and walked into the back of the cabin. Charlene sat next to us and grabbed our hands. “We are so thankful for the two of you to bring me my babies. Did you see their mother perhaps?”
“Javen told us she didn’t make it,” Farrah replied.
Z.E.D.S. Series (Book 2): Z.E.D.S. Wayward Son Page 15
