It drops to the ground with my blade still in its head, and I fall to my knees to pull it back out, almost getting taken out by a deader that collapses on top of me. I grunt and throw the body off before scrambling over and straddling it so I can get close enough to thrust my knife through the side of its head.
Its body goes slack about the same time that its stomach decides enough is enough and splits wide open. Water and putrefied organs gush out all around me and I gag at the smell, which brings tears to my eyes. The entire mess begins to soak into my cargo pants and I stand back up quickly, panting at the exertion and grossness of it all, and knowing that I’ll need some bleach to scrub this smell off my skin.
Ricky is fighting with a deader, but he seems to be handling it so I head over to help Phil, who has three of our dead enemies on him. I grab one of them by the scruff of the neck and drag it away from him. I swing its body around until it loses its balance and falls over, face first into the dirt. And then I put one foot on its back, reach down, and use my knife to snuff out its non-life.
Phil takes care of the other two with ease using a long piece of wood with a sharp blade on the end. One quick swipe and he takes them both out, and I almost applaud him, it’s that cool a move. The German shepherd is by his side also, charging at the deaders’ ankles or gnawing at them to make them fall over so that he, or I guess she, can ultimately tear the deaders’ heads off with her teeth.
We take care of the others quickly, with Aimee and Vicki only having to fire off one round apiece. We all stand back, exhausted from the quick yet violent fight. My leg is throbbing again, and the German shepherd comes over and sniffs at my bandage. I’m seconds away from kicking it, because I’m having brutal flashbacks to the wild dogs in the road that caused this mess, when Phil comes over.
He kneels down and takes the dog’s head in his hands, and begins to scratch behind the ears.
“Hello, girl. You did a great job, well done.” He nuzzles against her, and I look to Ricky for a reaction.
He actually smiles and turns to walk away. “Come on, let’s get back inside.”
Phil stands up and looks at me. “This is Fluffy.” He smiles. “She’s had my back since day one.” He looks back down at her. “Haven’t you, girl? Yeah you have.”
“She’s yours?” I ask, making small conversation as we make our way back to the gate.
“Nah, not really,” he says.
“Free spirit, huh?” I joke.
“Actually yeah, you could say that. I’m not normally a dog person, but Fluffy here saved me right at the start of all this, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.” Phil walks through the open gate, Fluffy on his heels, and I follow in last.
“Damn!” Alfie says as I pass him. “That’s bad.”
“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” I snap. I’m desperate to get out of these clothes now. The feeling of sloppy insides is sticking to my skin as it dries.
“Phil, the new guy is yours,” Ricky calls as I pass him. He smirks and I want to punch him in the face and then ask questions later. But I don’t. I try to play nice with the stupid ass instead. If not for my sake, then for Adam and Joan’s.
“Sure thing,” Phil says with a small laugh and then begins to walk away. “New guy, follow me.”
“The name’s Mikey,” I say, catching up with him and throwing Ricky a scowl as I pass. “Where are we going?” I ask in irritation.
Not that I really care. I’m personally just glad for anywhere to stay right now. I’m exhausted, anxious, and in pain. I need some pain relief and some sleep, in that order. Then I can wake up early and set about trying to find Adam. Kid’s gotta’ be hiding somewhere close to the dog attack. I refuse to believe that he’s dead. I don’t think I could handle it if he was. That and Nina would haunt my ass if he was, and a ghostly ass-kicking from her is not what I want for the last days on this earth.
“Most people share when they first arrive. It’s just until you get settled and you know your place.” He smiles again, and I decide that I really like him. He seems like a good guy, and there aren’t enough of them in the world anymore. He stops and pushes his glasses up his nose. A smirk sits on his face as he taps the side of his nose. “Also, no sense of smell.”
“And don’t we all know it,” Aimee says as she sidles up to him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Phil brushes some loose hair back from her face. “You know it.”
She strokes the top of Fluffy’s head before walking away, heading back up to the perimeter, and Phil watches her every step with a smile. He notices my stare and raises a hand to pat me on the back and then thinks better of it.
“Come on, dude, let’s get you cleaned up.” He turns and keeps on walking and I follow him, feeling self-conscious as we pass people and they grimace.
I get to see more of Haven, and the more of it I see, the more I wish Nina were here to see it with me. It’s like a real street. A home away from home. With houses and stores and things that make me pine to go back in time, if only for one more day. It all seems so normal. I reckon this is the sort of street she would have lived on before the world went to shit. I can almost see her now, climbing into her car and heading to work. I’d lean in her window and kiss her on the mouth and tell her not to work too hard. And she’d laugh and probably call me something insulting. I smile and swallow the lump in my throat.
Phil’s house is a large white-clad two-story job, with shutters on the windows and a swing on the porch. He climbs the three steps and stops at the top before turning to me, his expression full of concern. Fluffy sits by his feet and watches me carefully.
“Do you smoke?” he asks.
“No,” I reply.
“Good stuff,” he says with relief. “I’m a big smoker, and it’s the one thing I prefer not to share if I can help it. I’ll share my space, my booze, even my weed—because what fun is getting stoned on your own, right?” He laughs. “But not my cigarettes. I can tell me and you are going to get along great. Come on in, meet the family.”
He opens the front door and I follow him in.
“Family?” I ask, smelling something strange as I shut the door behind me. Not so much strange but it definitely smells bad, yet I can’t put my finger on what it is.
Phil laughs and turns a light on. I glance up at it with a frown. “Solar panels,” he says by way of explanation.
“You have a family? Aimee?” I ask.
“Nah, she’s a good girl, but we’re nothing serious yet. I mean the kids—come and meet my kids.” He laughs and continues moving through the house, checking every once in a while that I’m still following him.
“You have kids?” I ask, feeling unnerved as the smell gets stronger the deeper into the house we get. The man doesn’t seem old enough to have kids—certainly not ones that can be left alone while he goes on guard duty.
I stand back warily as he opens a door to one of the back rooms, flicking the light on as he goes in. I stand in the doorway with my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t see much in the room except what looks like wooden crates, but the smell is strong. And bad, if I’m honest. A few seconds later and Phil comes back to the doorway. His hair is tied back away from his face now, and in his arms is an animal. At first I think it’s a puppy or a kitten, but then I notice the distinct stripe down its back.
“Is that a skunk?” I ask, taking a step backwards.
Phil smiles widely. “Sure is. This is Lavender.”
The skunk—sorry, Lavender—sticks her head up and looks at me with her small, beady eyes.
“Sure, you have a pet skunk, that’s okay, I guess,” I say with a grimace, keeping an eye on her ass to make sure that tail of hers doesn’t lift.
Phil chuckles. “It’s okay, she’s as soft as anything. She won’t spray you unless she feels threatened. Skunks make great pets, honest. She’s only a baby and she’s as sweet as anything. I rescued her from certain death a couple of weeks ago. Come and meet the
rest of the gang.” He steps back into the room, and I once again wonder if Ashton is going to jump out at me any moment now. I can only be glad that I’m not currently holding onto that skunk in case she might squirt in fright.
“The rest?” I say, following him in and wishing I hadn’t. “Are you insane?” I ask, momentarily stunned as I look around at the crates and tanks of animals and insects.
I’ve never been a big animal fan, but I’ve had girlfriends who were. That was always in the zone of puppies and kittens, maybe even a guinea pig. Hell, one ex even kept a horse, and I was cool with that. Insects, however, are my nemesis I guess you could say. And as Phil reaches into a glass tank and gently coaxes a tarantula into the palm of his hand, I’m reminded why.
“This,” he says coming toward me slowly with another of his trademarks smiles, “is Miss Foxxxy Love. Easy on the eye and heavy on the X’s.”
Chapter Eight
“You keep that thing away from me,” I whisper-shout, backing up another step.
“It’s okay, dude, she won’t hurt. She’s a beautiful pussycat, honest!”
I take another step back. “That thing might be able to eat a damn pussycat, but she definitely isn’t one.” I stumble over my own feet and almost land on my ass. “Seriously, don’t bring that near me.”
I like to think I’m a brave man. I mean, I’ve come up against a lot of things in my life—everything from the police to gangsters to henchmen to zombies. I’m actually quite partial to a little danger now and then, and never shy away from a fight. But spiders…those things make me break out in hives. And that big—supposedly beautiful—beast in the palm of Phil’s hand is making every part of me itch.
“Okay, okay, I’ll put her away. Don’t freak out.” He laughs and walks back toward her tank and places her carefully back inside it. “Everything’s okay, darlin’. I hope you’ve had a good day. I’ve missed you.”
He puts the cover on top of the tank as he speaks to it—sorry her—like he expects her to answer him at any moment. Perhaps even tell him about the various other bugs she’s captured and tortured throughout the day. Maybe she painted her toenails and soaked in the tub. Wait, do spiders even have toenails? I’m 99% certain they don’t, yet I still shudder at the possibility. I’ve seen a lot of messed-up shit since the end of the world, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you can never take things for granted—not anymore.
“I’m taking it this is why you and Aimee aren’t a serious thing then,” I say, feeling better now that the giant man-eating spider is away.
He looks over at me and grins while he moves from animal to animal, talking to each one of them and checking their food and water.
“Yeah, sort of, but she’ll come around. She just needs to realize that these will always be my first loves. I mean, I care about Aimee—she’s beautiful and she’s really fun to be around—but I’d pick these guys over her or anyone else.” He stares hard at a long tank with a snake in it. “Well, maybe not. But these guys are my family, and whoever stays here needs to accept them as that.”
He stands up and looks across to me, and I realize that he’s waiting for me to reply. The animals behind him seem restless, and that in turn makes me even more uncomfortable.
“Do you ever let them out?” I ask, swallowing down the hard lump in my throat.
He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks confused, so I continue.
“You know, to like run around or climb the walls or…” …wrap themselves around my throat in the night and squeeze the life out of me, I think.
Phil laughs again and comes toward me. He slaps me on the back. “Don’t let your mind run away with you, dude.” He guides me from the room and shuts the door behind us. “You need to shower and change clothes. I might not have a sense of smell, but these guys sure do, and they are not happy about it right now.”
I’m so glad to be out of that room that it takes me a moment to realize he’s telling me that I stink. But I don’t have time to be offended as he guides me toward a small room at the top of the stairs.
“Shower runs a little cold at times, towels are under the sink, and the body wash is on the shelf.” He turns to walk back down the stairs before stopping and looking back at me. “Oh, and don’t use my loofah.”
And by his serious expression I can tell that he’s not messing around.
“All right,” I say.
“You’re sticking around for a while, right?” he asks, his expression still serious.
I shrug. “We’ll see what happens. I need to find someone.”
“The kid,” he says.
“Yeah.” I frown. “How’d you know?”
Phil smiles. “Word travels fast in Haven. If you’re sticking around, that means you’re a NEO, and that means you’ve got every resource available to you.”
“That’s good to know,” I say. And it is. It’s really good to know. The more I learn about this place, the more it seems too good to be true. But right now, I’m fresh out of other options. My leg is throbbing painfully, and I still need to get a shot for the dog bite.
Phil turns and makes his way back down the stairs and goes into the small room. I look around, feeling weirded out by the normality of everything, until I catch sight of my reflection—which is anything but normal. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and another shudder runs through me as I see how filthy I am. It’s not the sort of thing that you normally give a shit about. Surviving day to day, hour to hour, you don’t have time to think about how bad you might smell, or how sweat-soaked your body might be. It’s only times like this, when you get to hit the pause button on this messed-up life and you come face to face with yourself. It’s then that you see, then that you know, how much this world is killing you.
I might be a living, breathing man, but I’m dying from the inside out regardless. And with Nina gone, I’m not sure if there’s anything left to make me want to keep on going. I’m not talking about putting a bullet in my own head or some crazy shit like that, but I have to admit to myself, if only myself, that the thought of this all being over sounds like heaven right now. And maybe I’m jealous of Nina and the fact that she’s finally out of all this. Probably laughing it up in heaven and drinking margaritas on the beach.
I strip and turn the shower on before climbing in. Phil isn’t the cleanliest of guys when it comes to housekeeping, but then what guy ever really is? But he obviously takes his self-hygiene seriously, by the amount of products on the shelf. There’s everything from a bar of soap to squirty body wash, and even a bottle of bubble bath. Not to mention the loofah, of course. He may not have a sense of smell, but at least he makes an effort for the sake of everyone else.
The bathroom is small, and the bulb isn’t too bright, meaning that there are shadows cast on the walls that make me nervous. I stand under the water and let it run over my body, and I try to enjoy it while I can, but my gaze keeps straying to the shower curtain around the tub and the thought that anything could be on the other side of it. Eventually I can’t take it anymore and I pull the curtain back, forgoing any privacy. Because old habits die hard, and danger is only ever one step away from safety.
After my shower I climb out and dry myself before staring down at my putrid clothes with rotten guts all over them. The thought of putting them back on makes me feel sick. A sharp knock on the door makes me jump, and I keep the towel wrapped around my waist as I pull the door open a crack and look out.
Phil is there, laden down with a fresh set of brightly colored clothing for me. “Thought you could use these,” he says with a smile. “And this.” He hands me two bottles—one looks like antibiotics and the other pain relief, which is good because my leg is really beginning to hurt now.
“You have no idea,” I reply and gratefully take them.
“Alfie swung by and said I needed to take you over to him tomorrow so you can get that shot.” Phil leaves and shuts the door behind him, and I open the bottles and throw some of the pills to the back
of my throat. I probably should have checked the labels first, or at least tried to be a little more cautious, but I’m just so relieved to be clean and have some pain relief.
Once dressed I take another look at myself in the mirror and contemplate shaving off my stubbly beard and maybe even shaving my head again, since the hair is now just about long enough to be tied back. I run my hands through the hair on my head, eventually deciding I can’t be bothered, and instead I snag one of the hair bands from the bathroom cabinet and tie my hair back. I run a hand over my jaw and decide I can sort that out tomorrow too, if at all.
I look strange, not like myself at all. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing and that’s why I decide to leave it all on. The idea of being someone else makes me feel better. I never liked the man I was before. I had done wrong and done good, yet it all accounted for nothing as I had lost everything and everyone anyway.
Even my eyes seem different, almost like my soul has been sucked out of them, and now the eyes that stare back at me are cold and dead.
I leave the bathroom with my own clothes balled into as small a package as I can get them. They need to be tossed. No, they need to be burned, for everyone’s sake. My eyes are watering just holding them, and I’m a little shocked that I actually wore them without noticing the smell so much. Fluffy is sitting outside the bathroom door and she follows me down the stairs, never taking her eyes off me the whole time. I like that she’s wary of me—it means she can be trusted. Because you should never trust someone you don’t know. Shit, maybe you should never trust someone you do know.
Phil comes out of the animal room with a long snake draped over his shoulders, its hissing head balanced in his hand. “Hey, dude. Feel better?” he asks cheerily.
“Much,” I say, eyeing up the snake. “Do those things bite?”
“Of course. Mostly they just swallow their prey whole, though,” he replies without skipping a beat. “I mean snakes in general bite when they feel threatened, but not Zazz here. She’s used to being held by me, so she’s friendly. And she’s already been fed.” He winks at me and I grimace.
The Dead Saga (Book 4): Odium IV Page 6
