Everyone else climbed out of the car, shutting their doors behind them. Sonya and Ally, each carrying one of the gym bags, went for the door and started pounding their fists on it.
“Charlene,” Ally called out. “Helena. It’s us. Open up, come on.”
Kasey, Lawrence, Tristan, and Miles stood facing out to the street with their weapons held ready. Kasey could hear a pack of dead runners down Revel, their hoarse cries and rapid footsteps on the street seemed to grow in volume every few seconds. Kasey saw three of the undead roam out from behind a house across the street. They started a run toward the group.
“Open the door!” Sonya shouted. “Open up!”
“Okay, okay,” went Charlene’s voice behind the door, “hold on.” The sound of clicking deadbolts came. The front door opened. Charlene stuck her head out. “Get in. C’mon-c’mon-c’mon!”
Sonya and Ally hurried inside. Tristan, Kasey, Miles, and Lawrence followed in. Lawrence, the last one through, slammed the door closed with his shoulder and locked up.
The housemates were in the living room, greeting the excursion party with mutters expressing their relief. Sonya and Ally dropped their bags, backpacks, and weapons onto the floor and were met with embraces from Charlene, France, and Joni. Lawrence and Tristan also dropped their things and went for the couches. The boys collapsed onto the cushions.
Helena began swatting at Miles, slapping him in the face, hitting his chest and shoulder with closed fists. Her face was a heated scowl. “You motherfucking bastard,” she yelled at her husband. “Don’t ever leave out like that again.” She kept hitting him. Miles had his arms up to protect his face. “You had me worried to death, you motherfucking bastard.” And she kept on hitting him. “You don’t get to touch me—I don’t want you or your fat, stupid dick coming near me ever again.”
“Uh, woman,” said Miles, “please stop hurting me.”
Kasey took Helena by the arms and tried to hold her back. She never knew Helena to be dangerously emotional. “Calm yourself, woman,” Kasey said, “don’t hit him. Stop hurting the poor man.”
“Fucking bastard,” Helena went on with Miles. “I didn’t say it was okay for you to leave the house. Did I say it was okay?”
“You’re right,” said Miles. “It was not okay. I’m sorry. You’re scaring me again.”
“Kasey, don’t let go of me,” said the angry wife, “if you do, I’m gonna hurt my husband some more—I know I will.”
Everyone in the house was all right. Except for Miles. Lawrence, Ally, Tristan, and Sonya did what they’d set out to do, and they were back home. Kasey’s babies were safe now.
Joni
In the evening, Joni entered the family room when seeing Lawrence stir on the couch and untangle himself out of blankets. He sat up and stretched his arms, his eyes half-open, and his hair a wild explosion on his head.
Joni took a seat at the end of the couch. “Did you enjoy your nap?” She smiled, not just to be friendly, she was happy Lawrence came back alive today, happy all four came back alive.
Lawrence smiled back. Joni knew he’d be a friendly guy. “Yes, I did, little lady,” he said. “Thanks for asking. But, I think I should’ve taken a sponge bath first before sleeping. My armpits and my butt were sweating badly earlier.”
“I’m sure you were tired and really needed some rest. It’s okay if you stink and smell like butt, Lawrence.”
“Joni, that’s the nicest thing someone has ever told me. You’re sweet, you know that? So, did France manage to find you the entire Titan Storm Brigade collection? I hope she did, because I don’t want you getting bored in here.”
“I’m not bored here. There’s lots of stuff to do. France found a lot of them.”
“I’ll see if I can find the rest for you later.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t have to. I know you’re tired. Sonya and Ally told everyone what happened out there. They told us about Bambi, and how she was dead and still talking. They told us about the woman who was beating you up with an armadillo, and how you had to punch her to calm her down.” Joni didn’t mention the part about the woman tumbling to her death because of the punch.
“Yeah, that was…” Lawrence folded his lips. It looked like he was trying not to laugh. “That was bad.” A hint of a smile stayed on him.
“Ally told us about the boy who got trapped in the grocery store.”
“Yeah.” He looked and sounded more serious this time. “We both know these horrible things happen.”
Joni stared at him. She could sense Lawrence was one of those people who hid their bad feelings. “You okay, Lawrence?” He looked at her, but didn’t answer. “I used to ask Therese if she were okay. I used to ask my sister Catelyn, too. But, I never used to ask my dad. I didn’t forget to, I just…” Even if Joni had asked her dad if he were okay, he was likely to lie and say that he was fine, and that everything would be okay. “Even if he wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to help, because I’m just a little girl, I’m not that brave, and I’m not big or strong or anything. I still should’ve asked him if he were okay, though. That’s why I wanted to ask you.”
“I’m glad you asked me. When I came back here to the house, I wasn’t okay, honestly. I felt sick, you know? Sick in the stomach and sick in the head.” His eyes and head were down, a look Joni often saw in her dad and stepmom. “But, I feel a little better after the nap. I also feel better knowing you’re not mad at me. You asking me if I’m okay means a lot. And it helps a lot, too—you have no idea how much it helps. I’m okay, Joni.”
“I don’t think I was ever mad at you. Were you mad at me?” Joni had to ask him. She remembered the way he’d look at her. It was always like he wanted her to go away. “It seemed like you were mad at me.”
Lawrence shot a look to her. “Kid, I was never mad at you, ever.” Then he suddenly made an angry face. Joni knew he did it jokingly. “Um…Actually, I am mad at you.”
His overexaggerated mad face made Joni giggle. “Why are you mad at me all of the sudden?”
“Because you said that you’re Ally’s little sister and didn’t say that you were my little sister. I got jealous. You’re mean to me.” Lawrence crumpled his face, as if ready to cry. “I hate you.”
She laughed. “Well, guess what?”
“What?” Lawrence smiled wide. “You’re my little sister now?”
“No.” She made her own angry face. “I hate you, too. You smell like butt.”
They both laughed.
“No, just kidding, Lawrence, I am your little sister.”
Lawrence made an exaggerated gasp. “Cool. You’re my little sister, like how Kasey’s my mom. My mom’s a black lady.”
Joni giggled again. “My big brother Lawrence is so cool and I don’t care if he smells like butt.” She smiled, feeling a lot of happiness. Everyone in the house was becoming her family. “Are you really okay, Lawrence?”
Lawrence smiled, a wide, happy smile, which Joni knew wasn’t pretend. “I’m okay.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Are you okay, Joni?”
“I am now. Earlier, I was scared and worried about you guys being outside the house. I was reading manga and stuff, pretending I wasn’t worried, but I was. If I showed everyone I was worried, then everyone else would worry more. I understand why people have to pretend now.” She was honest with Lawrence, because she knew Lawrence had been honest with her. He didn’t pretend he was fine.
“You feel bad about having to pretend, don’t you?”
Joni nodded. “I do.”
“Between you and me, Joni, I’m not that brave or strong, either.” He grinned. “But, I think I have everyone fooled.”
Lawrence
Lawrence meant to take a sponge bath the moment he woke from his nap, but he got lazy. About forty minutes later, he was still on the family room couch, reading an issue of Pulp Dummy Dreadful. He felt good right now, relaxed, and—
Oh, Jesus Christ. Her
e comes Charlene. Fuck.
Charlene came in and sat down on the other couch. “Hey, Lawrence, I was so worried when all of you were out there.” Oh, Jesus Christ, she sounds serious and sentimental. Lawrence wanted her to go away. “I was worried about you, and I just wanted to ask you if…” she trailed off. She looked at Lawrence and pouted. “I wanted to know if you were worried about me.”
“What’re you talking about, Charlene?” His response was an annoyed outburst. “You were safe in this house the whole time. Why in the hell would I be worried about you? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Charlene started laughing. “Oh, you’re right about that…I was in here…” she spoke between laughs. “…I never left the house. You’re so funny, Lawrence.” Her laughter died. “Why does your hair look all kaboom right now?”
Lawrence just wanted to sit quietly and go back to reading his magazine, but Charlene wouldn’t let him. “I just got up from a nap.”
“I just came out of a nap, too, and I had the strangest dream that someone was trying to put dirty underwear on my face. It seemed so real.”
Lawrence hissed out a sigh. “Charlene, I don’t wanna hear about another one of your sick fantasies.”
“No, it’s not one of my sick fantasies this time, it was a dream that felt really real. Helena says she gets really real dreams, too. That was probably the strangest dream I had since dreaming about an octopus coming out of my va-jay. It had, like, twenty tentacles, and it just squirmed out of my va-jay, and in my dream, I stared at my va-jay and said to myself, ‘this is quite unusual.’ Don’t octopuses only have eight tentacles?”
“An octopus came out of where?”
“My vagina.”
Lawrence cringed. “Wait, in your dream, right? Not in real life?” He hadn’t been listening to her, because sometimes it was good for his wellbeing not to.
“No, in my dream it did.” Charlene laughed. “An octopus didn’t pop out of my vagina in real life. That’d be kinda cool, though. Wouldn’t it be funny if we were here having a normal conversation, and then a bunch of tentacles start wiggling out of my vagina, and they tried to grab you?”
Lawrence cringed even more. He gagged, too. “Damn you, Charlene, I swear, I will punch your vagina.”
Charlene was still talking. “I guess I had that dream after finding this weird anime in Tristan’s room, which turned out to be a hentai. There was a gladiator girl on the DVD cover, and I was like, ‘ooh, this looks like an exciting adventure.’ No, it turned out to be a hentai with girls having sex with an octopus alien—I don’t see how so many lonely nerds get turned on by shit like that—I don’t even know why I watched all three hours of it. I was probably bored.”
Lawrence gave up his attempt to read, closed his magazine, and tossed it on the coffee table. He pressed his hand to his forehead. A migraine was coming. Gee thanks, Charlene.
Charlene picked up the issue of Pulp Dummy Dreadful that Lawrence had dropped. “I like this magazine now.” She opened it on a random page and started giggling. “Duwende is one of my favorite short stories. A duwende is a tiny person, like a gnome or some other magical being, but this duwende smokes cigarettes and drinks liquor. It’s so cute.” She began reading and laughing to herself, saying phrases that made no sense to Lawrence. “Stupid monkey…” She laughed. “…kick him like a soccer ball…” Laughed. “…all the boozing and rodent eating you want…” Laughed.
While Charlene was distracted with a story of a tiny, magical person, drinking liquor and smoking, Lawrence stood from the couch and decided to slip away.
As he came to the stairs, he could hear his housemates in the kitchen and dining room. They were probably preparing dinner or sorting out the food and supplies that were obtained today. He went up the stairs, on his way to take his needed sponge bath. Afterwards he planned to search for more Titan Storm Brigade volumes for Joni, perhaps even find other manga collections for her to read.
As Lawrence reached the top, he could hear Tristan from within his room, wailing and moaning, letting out distressful cries. Sleep terrors it must’ve been. No surprise considering what Tristan had witnessed earlier at the market. Everyone in the house had their episodes, save for Joni and Miles. This was now Tristan’s third episode, and it was always Lawrence who had to wake him. Lawrence rushed down the hall to Tristan’s room. The cries continued.
“Tristan?” Lawrence called. He wasn’t going to bother knocking on the bedroom door. When he reached the door, he opened it…
Tristan sat at his desk—he was naked, bare from head to toe. He had the hacksaw in his right hand. He wasn’t sleeping.
He was sawing at his left arm.
Lawrence stood still in shock. “Tristan?” He shook his head, unable to fathom what he was seeing. Tristan naked? Sawing his own arm! “Tristan, what the fuck are you doing?” He screamed.
The deep slice was in mid-forearm. Blood pooled on the desk and trickled onto the carpet. Tristan continued to saw in a rapid back and forth motion. It made the sickening sound of zipping and grating. He cried out, but didn’t appear to be in much pain. He looked emotionless, zombie-like. The Tristan that Lawrence had known was gone.
“What are you fucking doing?” Lawrence screamed again.
“I was bitten,” Tristan spoke in a bland monotone. The sawing continued. “I’m gonna turn, Lawrence, but I could still save you all. I have to get rid of the dirty blood, the dirty part of me.”
“You weren’t bitten,” Lawrence roared with intense frustration and anguish. “Goddamit, Tristan, you weren’t bitten!” He charged at Tristan, ready to seize the hacksaw from him. “What’d you do to yourself!”
Tristan shot up from his seat. He dropped the hacksaw on the desk. His sliced left arm hung down, flapped and swayed at his side, only a strip of flesh was attached. Blood spilled, sprayed on the floor and on Tristan’s left leg and foot.
“Lawrence, stay away.” Tristan pushed Lawrence away with his right, functioning hand. Lawrence’s back hit the wall. “I’m gonna turn into one of them. Get away from me!”
“You were never bitten!”
“At the market…” Tristan pushed against Lawrence’s chest, trying to keep him on the wall. “When I tried to help the kid…”
“Lawrence!” Ally came into the room with an axe.
Tristan released Lawrence and stepped back.
“Ally, no!” Lawrence shouted.
“Tristan, I’m sorry,” Ally muttered, raising the axe overhead. She brought it down. The blade hit Tristan, but missed his head by an inch. Ally’s axe strike split his collarbone—Lawrence heard the snap of it. Tristan screamed. Ally wrenched out the blade, lifted the axe once more, and swung down.
Tristan’s scream cut to silence. With the axe embedded in his head and blood pouring down his face, he fell to the floor.
He was never bitten, Lawrence thought about it for hours. It was nighttime now. He sat in the armchair of the master bedroom, wrapped in his quilted blanket. He hadn’t eaten dinner. He didn’t believe any of his housemates did, either. He, Miles, and Kasey had rolled Tristan’s body up in blankets. There was too much blood on his severed hand to examine for a bite. It would’ve been pointless to check. Tristan was already dead. All they could do was toss his body over the balcony for those things to feast on him.
Those things did feast on him! The dead didn’t eat their dead. That means he wasn’t turning. Lawrence couldn’t be sure about it, though. It wouldn’t have mattered if he were turning or not, he would’ve bled to death through his severed arm. They didn’t have the necessary medical supplies or the medical knowhow. Tristan was gone the moment Lawrence walked in on him.
The bedroom door opened and Sonya came in. She closed the door. She didn’t bother knocking and she failed to realize that if Lawrence was in the damn room by himself, with the fucking quilted blanket over his shoulders, that meant he wanted to be alone.
He didn’t really want to be alone. He was a little afraid to admit that.
>
“You okay, Lawrence?” Sonya approached him. She didn’t look okay. Her eyes red and worn, tears still welled in them. Her nose was running, and it didn’t look like she would bother wiping it. She hadn’t cried much over Kyle’s death. Lawrence suspected there was more troubling her than just Tristan’s demise. She didn’t take the other armchair. Instead, she knelt close to Lawrence and held his hand.
“No,” Lawrence replied. “I’ve witnessed the most frighteningly horrific thing today…Tristan’s penis.” He laughed, knowing it would’ve made Tristan laugh. He still didn’t figure out why Tristan had stripped off all his clothes before self-amputating.
“Why are you laughing?” Sonya snapped. Lawrence stopped laughing. She let go of his hand. “Why are you acting like this? Lawrence, don’t pretend that everything is okay.”
“Why’d you fucking ask me, then?” Lawrence snapped back. “Of course I’m not fucking okay.”
Sonya flinched at his rare display of ire. “We have to get out of here, Lawrence.”
Lawrence eased his temper. “Where, Sonya? Do you have any ideas?”
“Let’s just get out of this house,” it sounded like a plea from her.
“We’re safe in here. Outside, it’s a fucking jungle of zombies and crazed, violent assholes. But, if you wanna leave, Sonya, go ahead. I won’t try to stop you.”
“Just outside of this house,” she pointed at the window, “down from that balcony, is Tristan’s torn up body. Down the street from here, Kyle’s months-old corpse is rotting. Next door, Kasey’s husband is dead and rotting. Joni’s dad was shot in the head in this very room, and her stepmom hung herself in the next room. Now their bodies, or pieces of them, are littered outside in the yard. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I’m not the only one who wants to leave. If you wanna fucking stay here, Lawrence, that’s fine, but I plan to lead all of them out of here.” Her voice was rising, she was worked up now, and in tears again. “I have no idea where to fucking go—just as long as we’re away from here. I’m not gonna stay in here and fucking go crazy, or watch the people around me go crazy like Tristan. Because we both know he wasn’t bitten and wasn’t fucking turning.”
Flesh Ravenous : A Zombie Horror Series -Book 2 Page 9
