Flesh Ravenous : A Zombie Horror Series -Book 2

by James M. Gabagat

  Charlene shook her head. “No I didn’t, dude. That sounds like something Sonya or Kasey would say.”

  France and Joni returned to their reading. They tried to. Charlene kept talking.

  “I was so hyped about season three,” Charlene spoke excitedly. “Season two ended with a cliffhanger. I mean, did Dobo truly love Zuna or did he love Azzi, ya know? And would they really be able to resurrect Gorgon Mota?” She didn’t appear to blink or take in a breath when talking about Titan Storm Brigade season three. “My boyfriend at the time—Stanley I think his name was? Scotty or some shit? I don’t know—he’s probably a zombie now, he told me that in season three, Dobo would find out that his brother is a titan, and um, um…” Her eyes went large. “…and more characters revealed.”

  “I don’t get it, Char,” said France. “Why are you all of the sudden so into that anime? Not long ago, you were saying that ugly nerds violently masturbate up a storm when watching Titan Storm Brigade.”

  Charlene gasped again. “Bonko Ronko.”

  “What?”

  “Bonko Ronko, the guy with the big-ass mallet. He was gonna appear in season three and, and…characters revealed.”

  Miles entered the family room. “Hey, what are you girls up to?” France noticed two bandages on his face. One below his right eye and another on his left cheek.

  “Dad,” said France, “what happened to your face? Did Mom attack you again?”

  “Oh, no,” Miles took a seat on the armchair. “Not this time. I was flossing.”

  France stared at him. Um…Okay. “How did you manage to…Never mind.”

  “Whoa,” Miles’s eyes lit up when he viewed the coffee table full of colorful magazines and manga. He looked over at Joni’s opened book. “What is that you got there? You reading all about superheroes?”

  “I’m reading Titan Storm Brigade,” said Joni. “I guess they’re kinda like superheroes.”

  “Check this out…” Miles paused and smiled as he looked around at everyone, as though about to make an exciting announcement. “Did you girls know that I had once thought of becoming a real superhero. Yes, the real kind, not like those morons who just dress up like one and visit kids in the hospital or show up at some bachelorette party. I was gonna get out there and fight crime and save ordinary citizens. I had a suit designed and everything.”

  “Wow,” said Joni.

  “I never knew that,” said France.

  “Are you for real?” said Charlene. “So, what happened afterwards, Miles, you go through therapy?”

  “No, no,” Miles said, “though, Helena encouraged it. I couldn’t be a superhero anymore, because…” He sighed. “Helena got pregnant with her.” He pointed at France.

  “How unfortunate for us both,” said France.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  Charlene appeared concerned for Miles. “Miles, you should’ve went through therapy,” she sounded concerned, too.

  “I was to be known as Acid Thrower,” Miles continued. “I was gonna clean up the streets with my jars of acid. Criminals beware, right?”

  “Miles, I’m afraid of you now.”

  Meanwhile, Joni seemed enthralled by Miles’s tale. “So, you were gonna throw acid at people?”

  Miles laughed and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s right. You see, Joni, I grew up in a bad neighborhood, filled with drug addicts and gangbangers. Ordinary citizens were afraid to walk the streets at night. But the night…” Now he looked serious. “The night was to be my domain. Acid Thrower’s domain. At nightfall, I was to prowl the streets, where I planned to fling jars of acid at presumed drug dealers.”

  Charlene gaped and gasped. She looked terrified. “You were gonna fling acid at presumed drug dealers? Presumed drug dealers? But what if they weren’t actually drug dealers? What if it was just some guy taking a walk, because he was headed to a convenient store for a midnight snack?”

  Miles shrugged. “Well, I guess the guy would get a face full of acid. He’d be in the wrong place at the wrong time, man.”

  “Miles, you’re weird.”

  “All my aspirations to become the crimefighting Acid Thrower went out the window, because Helena had to get pregnant with a baby or something. I guess we have France to blame for that.”

  “It’s a good thing you never became Acid Thrower,” France spoke gently, as if to console her father. “Otherwise, someone innocent would’ve seriously gotten hurt. That wouldn’t have been good, right Dad? Burning someone’s face off with acid?”

  Miles nodded, but didn’t speak a word. Everyone in the family room was silent. The girls sat staring at Miles. He tried to offer a smile. “…I’m gonna sit somewhere else now.”

  Helena

  “I remember Ally when she was younger than Joni,” said Kasey, “she’d come home from school, pass by my house while my Darren and I worked on the yard. She’d say, ‘Hello Mr. Newman, hello Mrs. Newman.’ She’d tell us about her day at school. I’d look forward to those times. She’d stand in our front yard, clutching her Hello Kitty backpack, talking and talking.”

  Helena sat with Kasey at the dining room table. Kasey had earlier witnessed the obliteration of Therese’s body by those monsters and was still in tears over it.

  “I picture Ally as the shy type as a little girl,” said Helena.

  Kasey wiped some tears with her fingers and smiled. “Yeah, that girl was shy, but never with me and Darren. We watched that girl grow up. Once, on Valentine’s Day, she gave us a big ol’ card with sparkly hearts on it that said, ‘You two are the greatest and friendliest neighbors ever. That’s why me and Kyle love you.’ She asked me if Darren and I were gonna do something special for Valentine’s Day. I was mad at Darren at the time. I forgot why. I told her, ‘Me and Darren ain’t gonna do nuthin’, ‘cause he’s in trouble with me.’”

  Helena held her mouth and laughed, making her occasional bad habit of snorting like a hog. Miles used to refer to it as her “face fart.”

  Kasey threw her head back after hearing the foul snort. “Damn, woman, what came out your face just now?”

  Both women laughed. Kasey’s eyes were dry now.

  After the laughter, Kasey leaned back in her chair, seemingly more relaxed. “I’m worried to death over those kids being out there. Tristan, too.”

  “I worry, too,” said Helena. “But, I do have faith. They saved us, Kasey. Me, Miles, and France were once strangers to them, but they chose to help us. Those four are risking their lives for us right now. And if they could help us, then they certainly can help each other. They’ll look out for each other, I know they will.” She did believe in them. Sonya the brave one, Lawrence the smart one, Ally the cautious one, and Tristan…the one with a sword. “Of course, naturally, I worry. If France or Miles ever wanted to get out there, outside this house—my God—I’d say ‘no, uh-uh’ and I’d scream at them till their heads exploded.”

  “We all worry every day, don’t we?” Miles entered the dining room, came over to the table, and pulled out the seat next to Helena. He sat. “With Lawrence and them out for a supply run, it’s really just more worrying for us. So, no point in worrying if you’re already worried.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense,” said Helena.

  “Nope,” Miles absently replied. “Nope-a-roonie-doo-doo.” He often constructed ridiculous words when something worried him.

  “How are the girls doing?” Kasey asked.

  “France is helping to keep Joni distracted for the time being and Charlene’s helping to keep herself distracted. I tried to hang with them a moment ago, but unfortunately, I wasn’t cool enough. Ain’t one of the cool kids, sadly.”

  Helena reached over and rubbed the back of her husband’s neck to soothe him. “You’ll always be one of the cool kids to me.” She knew a lot was on Miles’s mind, which was why he seemed kookier than usual. “You’re scared for them, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” he admitted. “That Kyle was a good kid. His loss broke everyone’s he
art. I don’t think we’d like to go through another one of those.” He lowered his voice, “I worry about France. She has that unhealthy, little…crush on Lawrence.”

  “It’s perfectly healthy and normal, dear, she’s a teenager. Lawrence is a decent-looking boy. And his behavior is also…fairly…decent…”

  “I disagree, it’s not normal. What I mean is, if something were to happen to him, it would devastate France.”

  “We just have to trust that Lawrence and the others are wise enough, resourceful enough to make it through,” said Kasey. “I pray they’ll get back here today. If not, I know I ain’t sleeping a wink tonight.”

  “Neither will I,” said Helena.

  Miles set his elbows on the table. He stroked his beard and appeared to drift into his thinking mode. “There was a time, Kasey, when France was a little younger, she told me a boy in her class had a crush on her.”

  “Oh, goodness, Miles, not this,” said Helena. “You know it was hard for France to make friends. Then when one boy becomes her admirer, you completely lose your shit over it.”

  “No, excuse me, woman, but I loss none of my shit over it.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “But, anyways, Kasey. That boy might’ve been eleven or twelve years old at the time, but, like any normal father, I just had the urge to beat him up.”

  “That’s not normal,” Helena muttered.

  “You wanted to beat up that little boy?” said Kasey.

  “Well, yeah,” Miles was nonchalant. “When his mom would go over to pick him up from school, I just wanted to beat him up in front of his mom. You know, just like any normal father.”

  “Miles, you’re weird.”

  “Is it so weird for a father to be concerned about his daughter? His only child? I mean, I didn’t actually go and beat up the kid.”

  “No,” said Helena, “what you did was just as bad. You started stalking that kid.”

  “No, I started observing that kid. On days when his mom didn’t pick him up from school, I’d follow him home. Then I’d park in his neighborhood and watch him play in his yard.”

  “Miles,” said Kasey, “that ain’t normal.”

  “Listen, Kasey—I have no idea how we started talking about this—I was just so worried about France that time. When something really bothers me, especially when I worry over someone I care about, I’m compelled to take action.”

  Helena gave her husband a stern look. “I don’t think I like where this is leading.”

  13

  Guess Who’s Not Making It to Hollywood

  Lawrence

  “Are you really gonna check her pulse, Lawrence?” Sonya asked. “Her neck looks like a fucking corkscrew!” As usual, Sonya was being dramatic. Meredith’s neck was grossly twisted, but it didn’t resemble a corkscrew—it did a little bit. “You’re more likely to find a third tit on her than a pulse.”

  Lawrence was at the foot of the stairs, bent down next to Meredith. He lifted her hand and pressed his thumb against her wrist. There was no pulse. She was dead. Lawrence felt it was courteous to check, to be certain.

  “Look, Lawrence,” said Sonya, “her back is against the ground…and her fucking face is also on the ground. That’s not how the human body is constructed.”

  “Yup,” said Lawrence, dropping Meredith’s hand, “she’s dead.”

  “Yeah, no shit. We all figured that out when she rolled down the stairs and bounced on her fucking head. You killed her.”

  “No, I socked her lights out. The taxidermy armadillo and the stairs killed her.”

  “Uh…Lawrence,” said Tristan, “you should stop killing people, dude.”

  “There’s no need to blame Lawrence for this,” said Ally. “This woman would’ve bashed us all in the head with that armadillo if given the chance. She wasn’t stable.”

  “Thank you, Ally.” Lawrence stood up and patted Ally on the shoulder. He looked down at Meredith. “Well, I guess Meredith C. Higgins won’t be making it to Hollywood.” He couldn’t help but snicker at his own comment.

  Tristan snickered.

  Then Sonya started to snicker.

  Then Lawrence, Tristan, and Sonya erupted into laughter.

  Only Ally was silent. “This isn’t funny, you guys,” she said. “Have all three of you become desensitized? Why are you laughing! Someone is dead in front of us and her head’s the wrong way.”

  The volume of their laughs rose. Lawrence held his side, as it began to cramp from his hard chuckling.

  Sonya’s laughter stopped. She pressed her hand to her eyes to hide her sudden outpour of tears. She then let out a distressed wail, which silenced Lawrence and Tristan’s laughs and made their smiles become confused frowns.

  “Sonya?” said Ally.

  “I can’t anymore,” Sonya mumbled. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Sonya rushed out of the entrance hall. Lawrence, Tristan, and Ally followed her into the living room.

  “Sonya, relax,” said Lawrence.

  “No,” Sonya replied, throwing her axe down and dropping her bottom onto the sofa cushion. “Fuck you, Lawrence. Fuck you.” She covered her face again and wept.

  “Hey, what’d I do now?” Lawrence concluded that she was having a breakdown. He sat to the right of her as Ally sat to her left. “Calm down.” He set his hand on the middle of her back, patted and rubbed her gently, something he had never done before. It gave him a tense, uneasy feeling, like trying to pet an animal with rabies. He feared Sonya would elbow him in the gut, as she had done in the past when he came in proximity of her personal space. “We’re here for you.” Sonya seemed to slowly ease into him. It made him more uneasy, but he allowed her to set her head against his neck. “Sonya, you know that we’re here for you.”

  “I miss my mom,” said Sonya. She released her sobs. She sniffled. “I miss Kyle. I miss him so much.”

  “I miss him, too.” Lawrence brought her in closer to him and squeezed her. He pressed his lips against the side of her head. And it didn’t feel like kissing an animal with rabies, it felt like kissing a sorrowful loved one, who he truly wished he could heal. He’d never seen Sonya so weak. It saddened him, made him realize that he did indeed love her. “But, I’m glad you’re still here. Really, I’m not lying to you this time. It’s okay if you’re a cunt to me every now and then.” Lawrence also realized that he was indeed shit at comforting others.

  Sonya’s sobbing continued. “I’m tired. I wanna go home now. I’m tired of all of this. I’m tired, I’m so tired.”

  Now Ally was weeping. “Don’t do this, Sonya. Don’t start saying things like that. We all know how you feel.”

  “Sonya,” said Tristan. He looked deeply solemn. “I remember a time a few years back, when Gina ditched me in the middle of a date. She was the only girl to ever give me a handjob.” Though his words were starting off stupid, Lawrence knew Tristan was speaking from the heart. “She broke my heart that night. You found me on the kitchen floor, extremely drunk, crying my eyes out, and hugging the waffle maker for some reason. I said to you, ‘Sonya be careful, I don’t want you to slip over my tears. I’m tired of having my heart broken.’ And then you said, ‘What the fuck, Tristan?’ You walked away and told Kyle, ‘You need to go babysit your friend. He’s hugging the waffle maker and crying like he just had his dick chopped off.’ And that made me stop crying. I realized I didn’t have my dick chopped off. I was gonna be okay.” The sad thing was, Tristan looked serious and sympathetic toward Sonya, and he still had a fucking metal pot over his head. “I knew in my heart, that everything was gonna be okay. You helped me, Sonya. You saved me.”

  There was a solemn silence between the four longtime friends.

  “How the fuck does that situation compare to Sonya’s situation?” Ally broke the solemn silence.

  Sonya stopped crying. She now looked puzzled.

  “You know what, guys?” said Lawrence. “Tristan’s right.” He could only nod his head, not knowing how to elaborate on Tris
tan’s words, because what Tristan said was…

  Tristan was also shit at comforting others.

  “Get off me,” Sonya said, shoving Lawrence away. “You said I was a cunt.”

  “No, I didn’t,” said Lawrence. “I said you’re a cunt every now and then. I didn’t directly call you a cunt.”

  “Fuck you, you’re the cunt.”

  “Right now, we have bigger problems than me calling you a cunt. There are fucking zombies outside—the fast, running kind—not the slow, shambling kind you could easily run passed, we had someone shooting at us, we lost your car, and there’s a dead woman in the next room with a backwards head, because I accidently went and killed her. I mean, the taxidermy armadillo and the stairs killed her.”

  “…you’re still a cunt.”

  “Oh, hell no, Sonya, that’s a low blow. I was comforting you and saying tender words to you and stuff. You’re…” Lawrence crossed his arms and resentfully looked away from Sonya. “That’s not cool at all,” he muttered. “You called me a cunt. That’s mean.”

  “Enough,” said Ally, “the both of you. Are you two regressing right now? You act like four-year-old brats fighting over those giant Lego blocks at a daycare. Both of you need to stop.”

  “No,” Lawrence wasn’t done, “Sonya started it. I was comforting her and saying tender words. She called me a cunt. I didn’t like that.”

  “Lawrence, you’re seriously acting like a child.”

  “No. No, I’m not. Sonya was mean and—”

  Ally glared at Lawrence. “Enough.”

  “Okay.” Lawrence quieted.

  “You good, Sonya?” Tristan asked.

  “Yeah,” said Sonya. She nodded and smiled lightly. “I needed that. I just needed to get that out. I haven’t cried or thought of my mom in a long time. But, I’m good, Tristan. Thank you.” She looked at Tristan and Ally. “Are you guys good?”

  “I’m good,” said Tristan.

  “Yeah,” said Ally. “We’re gonna be okay. I know it. We’ll continue looking out for each other.”

  Sonya turned and looked at Lawrence. “How about you? You okay, Lawrence?”