Molly: Immersion (Zombie Instinct Book 2)

by J. B. Havens

  “We needed a place to stay for a day, maybe two, that’s all. We aren’t looking for any trouble.” My leg was jumping under the table, bouncing up and down on my toe rapidly.

  “You won’t find any here. We’re the same as we were before this all started. If it will help you relax any, I’ll explain who our group is, dear.”

  Not waiting for my agreement, she continued talking. “My family has lived here for going on five generations. Each one making improvements for those that come next. We grow peanuts and corn. Pretty simple life, generational farming. Then all this started.” She paused, turning her head to look out the kitchen window to the dark fields beyond. She was seeing something that was no longer there, likely remembering the horrors of the early days of the outbreak. “We were in town when the news hit. Of course we’d started to see it before the news explained it. I was a nurse at the county hospital. The infected poured in. So many people I knew, children I’d helped deliver…families. My family had come to help, we were that short-handed. Anyone with any medical training, even just CPR, was helping. Nurses and doctors kept getting infected so we were running out of both. Soon enough, the infected who’d died, came back. They’d run out of room in the morgue, so we’d been putting bodies in the hallway down there. All lined up on gurneys, draped with blood-stained sheets.” Shaking her head, she rubbed her hand across her lips, closing her eyes for a moment.

  I was listening, showing respect to the woman and her incredible story. While I’d stayed hidden in my apartment, too afraid to go out, this woman was in the trenches in the most dangerous place there was. A hospital. I could almost hear the screams as the dead rose and attacked, feeding on helpless patients.

  “Anyway, you can guess what happened after that. I was bitten, but not killed right away. I managed to lock myself inside an ambulance in the hope that when I turned, I’d be trapped and unable to hurt anyone. Only, I woke up. Just as you did. I did things in those first few days that I will not speak of. You know the hunger, the pain when you wake. The burning need to feed.”

  “Yes. I do. We’re zombies, it’s hard to fight our nature.”

  “Yet we do. We’ll get back to that.” Sighing, she continued, “I made my way back here, at night of course. At that point, I was too weak to tolerate the sunlight even a little. I found my children and grandchildren still here. My husband was killed during my time at the hospital. He’d turned and my daughter was the one who had to put him down. They were defending this place, setting up the perimeter, gathering supplies, you name it.” Laughing softly despite the brutality of her tale, she said, “They almost shot me, if my daughter hadn’t hesitated I’d be dead. I spoke, told her I was home and that was it. I don’t know why I’m like this or what makes me different. Why I became this while my husband didn’t.”

  Bitter, she leaned back in her chair. “Now here you are,” Betty stated. “Looking like me, talking like me, and with those two children in tow. That they are alive shows me all I need to know. You don’t feed on humans, not unless you are forced to. Am I right?”

  “You’re right, yes. There are more like us. After I was turned, I woke up in some government lab, tied to a table. They took me and another girl, Kelle.” Speaking her name turned my stomach. “She…became something else. She’s evil, twisted somehow. I feel like myself. Mostly.”

  “Yeah, mostly,” she chuckled softly. “Can you talk to the dead ones?”

  I imagined that she must have felt the same way I do. Confused and alone, no idea what she was or why. It was comforting to be able to talk to someone who really understood what it was like, dying and returning. Forced to live with these changes and the struggle of retaining some semblance of your former self. “Yes. I’m much stronger now as well. Once I fed, the first time, my body changed.” I lifted my arm and flexed my bicep, showing her the bulging muscles. “Kelle has more control over the zombies than I do, though. She can call them to her like the fucking Pied Piper. When I escaped the lab, I left her behind. She looked at the research they’d been doing. They called us Alphas, and we can control the regular zombies—kind of like queen bees control their drones. We have a genetic marker on our DNA that allowed us change into this and not…” I trailed off. Betty knew the alternative. “They hadn’t figured much else out beyond that. I was running from Kelle when I found the kids, they were cornered against my building. I helped them and then she showed up. I think she’s tracking me, not just mentally, but physically. She’s like a fucking undead bloodhound.”

  Looking concerned, Betty asked, “Where is this Kelle now?”

  “Dead, I think or hope. After what I did to her, she probably wishes she was.” I shrugged, not liking that I didn’t know for sure. I was an idiot, I should have killed her. “Like I said, she’s been following me, wants to kill me. When she found me and the kids, I ripped her a new one, literally, then left her to die. I just… I couldn’t kill her.” Shaking my head, I was done with story time. “What’s the deal then? Are you going to let us stay for a bit or not? Because if you’re going to kill me, I’d rather we just get on with it.”

  “No. I’m not going to kill you or those children. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet, but my days of murdering people are long over. Stay. We’ll talk more this evening.” Pushing herself up, she rose. “Come along, I’ll show you and your charges where you can sleep. I imagine you all want to stay together?”

  “Yeah. No offense, but I don’t trust you people yet. Why are you helping us anyway?” I asked, following her out of the kitchen and back to the living room where the kids were.

  “Children are precious. They’re our future. Without them, the human race dies. They must be protected and taught how to survive.”

  The kids were fast asleep, lying next to a half dozen empty cans of food and water bottles. Seeing the remains of their meal brought my own hunger back to the forefront. Exhaustion relaxed them in their sleep. They looked like normal kids, not a pair of orphans running for their lives in a world full of nightmares.

  I think she sensed it somehow. “Follow me. You’re hungry too, I’m assuming?” Pointing to the bloody remains of my shirt with its obvious bullet wound.

  “Very. I have been hunting animals, but there wasn’t time on the way here. I was just trying to get them as far away from Kelle as possible.”

  “Come along. I have much better wares than animals eaten on the road.”

  Heading back into the kitchen, she led me into a large walk-in pantry I hadn’t noticed before. Pulling a large plastic container from the shelf, she handed it to me. Looking through the clear lid, I saw the largest pile of jerky I’d ever seen.

  “Meat doesn’t keep so well without electricity. Our generators are for emergencies only, we can’t spare the juice to run a fridge. So, jerky it is.”

  Confused I asked, “But, I’ve only ever eaten raw meat. I don’t crave regular food.” She must know what I’m talking about. The warmth of the meat, the blood sliding down my throat, the thump of the dying animals’ heartbeat against my teeth. That’s what I craved.

  “This is mostly venison, some duck, and others mixed in. You’re right, it’s not as good as the real thing, but it fills the stomach and I don’t have to chase it through the woods. The deer wander into the fields all the time. The hunting is good here, we get enough for all of us easily. Preserving it this way makes the most sense.”

  Lifting the lid and taking a piece, I took a bite of the tough meat. Flavor exploded in my mouth, waking my taste buds. “It’s good.” I breathed the words out quickly between bites. Forgetting everything else around me, I wolfed down the jerky as fast as I could chew. And I probably didn’t chew as much as I should have.

  “Keep the container. I have another one.”

  Cradling the jerky in my arms, I followed her back out of the kitchen to where the kids slept. Forcing myself to stop eating for the moment, I gently shook Tristen awake. He jerked, startled and waking up scared. His eyes were huge.

&nb
sp; “It’s okay, relax,” I attempted to soothe him. “We’re going upstairs. I can carry Dalia up. They’re letting us stay for a bit until we figure something else out.”

  Grabbing the bags of food, he waited while I scooped Dalia up in my arms. As a human, carrying her would have been a struggle. Now she felt so light that it was like carrying a large overstuffed pillow. Betty gathered up Dalia’s pack and my jerky, leading the way toward the front of the house where the staircase was. The upstairs was much of the same, classic Victorian features with big windows and elaborate woodwork.

  At the very end of the hall, the older woman—older zombie—opened a door and showed us a bedroom. There were two twin beds and a chair in the corner. “The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the left. We have a well, so the toilet will flush. You just need to refill the tank from the barrel we have in there.”

  Tristen nodded before setting the bags of food in the corner by the window. “What about a shower?” he asked, pulling at the neck of his shirt. His face was dirty, blood was spattered along the legs of his jeans, and it had probably been quite some time since he’d been able to get clean.

  “No showers right now. We do baths a couple times a week. Tomorrow, I’ll see that you and your sister have a bath.”

  Nodding, he sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door and took off his shoes.

  I laid Dalia on the other bed, before turning toward Betty. “I feel like I should thank you, but I don’t trust you enough to do that yet. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Making solid eye-contact, I’m sure she knew as well as I did that I would not be sleeping tonight.

  Nodding in response, she left, shutting the door behind her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tristen sat on one of the two beds, while Dalia was still asleep on the other. He’d been stumbling from one extreme to the other since he first saw the videos of zombies on social media. At first he’d thought it was just another internet prank or a bad batch of bath salts, the drug had infamously caused the users to have severe hallucinations. Often when high, they’d attacked and even bit those unfortunate enough to be around them. He’d thought the videos were funny. Until his Mom came home from work with a fever and a bleeding bite on her hand. The TV said not to go to the hospitals, that they were overwhelmed with patients.

  So, she’d taken a couple of Tylenol and gone to lie down, asking him to come in with her.

  “Tristen, I need you to listen to me, baby.” She held his hand with her good one, the blood seeping through the bandage on her other. “I don’t know if Daddy is coming home, or when. It’s up to you now. I think we both know what’s going to happen to me. You know where the pistol is?” Tears fell from her eyes in a constant stream. She wept silently, which scared him more than her words did. He’d never seen his mom cry before, not even when she broke her arm when they went skiing the previous winter.

  “Yeah, Mom. I know where it is. Dad took me to the range a few times, he just hasn’t let me shoot yet.”

  Reaching out, she stroked his cheek softly. “I love you, sweetie. I always will. Even…after.” He didn’t want to think about what after meant. “You have to take care of Dalia. Keep her safe and look after her for me. You’re so young to carry such a heavy burden. I’m so sorry, baby. My heart is breaking for you and your sister.”

  “Mommy, please!” he begged, gripping her hand and feeling like when he was little and scared to sleep alone. He hadn’t called her ‘Mommy’ in years. “Mommy, don’t go, don’t leave us! I’m so scared.”

  “Promise me you’ll keep her safe, Tristen. Promise me.” Her voice was getting softer as she grew weaker. The tight grip she had on his hand was slackening.

  “I promise, Mommy. I’ll keep her safe from those monsters. No matter what.”

  “That’s my brave boy. I’ve always known you could take on the world. I’m sorrier than I can say that you have to do that now. Tell Dalia that I love her with all my heart.” She choked and coughed, blood coming from the corner of her mouth. Her teeth were stained red with it, like the time Cody Johnson punched him on the playground and busted his lip open. He’d thought the bloody teeth looked cool then, it wasn’t so cool now. It was horrible. ”You stay strong, baby. For her and for me too. I want you to go, before it happens. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He’d knelt at his mother’s bedside, weeping like a baby against her hand, his tears soaking her skin. He was so scared. His dad hadn’t come home and it was just him and his little sister. All alone. She’d always been there, every day after school picking them up and asking them how their days were. Giving him a hug even when he pretended he didn’t want one. He secretly loved her hugs, she made him feel safe. And now she was gone and it was up to him to make Dalia feel safe. He’d tried to call his dad more times than he could count, but every call resulted in the same message, All lines are currently busy, we are unable to connect you at this time.

  He’d kept Dalia away from Mom, he didn’t want her last memories of their mother to be her pale skin and bleeding bite wound. His baby sister needed to remember their mom as she was, baking cookies at Christmas, braiding her hair, painting each other’s nails, and all the girly stuff he didn’t understand.

  He sat with her long after she died, maybe an hour passed when her fingers began to twitch and then curl up into fists. He knew what was happening to her and that he should kill her, but he was too afraid. It was his mom, the thought of shooting her made him physically sick. Instead, he’d grabbed the lock box from the night stand and shut the bedroom door. He stuck a chair under the doorknob just in case she somehow thought to turn the knob.

  Dalia sat huddled on the couch, crying into her stuffed bear. Her little body was shaking so hard he thought she’d come apart. Putting the lock box on the coffee table he sat beside her and held her close while she cried. “It’s going to be okay, Sis. I promised Mom I would look after you.”

  “Where’s Mommy! I want Mommy!” She bawled like he’d never seen her cry. Snot ran from her nose, mixing with the tears covering her face. The front of her shirt was dotted with tear drops. She squeezed her bear so tight he was surprised it didn’t rip in half.

  “Mom’s gone, Sis. It’s just us now. But I’m going to take care of you. I swear.” The world felt so big and he felt so small. He didn’t know how he was going to keep her safe, but he had to try. They had food here, they could stay here for a while. Maybe the police would come or the Army. In the movies the Army always arrived in loud trucks and the men went door-to-door, saving people. Soldiers are heroes, that’s what his dad always said.

  Bang! The chair holding the door closed shook and rattled. She—no, it, because it wasn’t his mom anymore—was shrieking and screaming, pounding on the door, trying to get out. Dalia screamed in fright, still sobbing her little broken heart out. She looked to him for help. Her face was twisted in fear and her eyes were red from crying.

  The pounding and shrieking made his heart race and his hands shake. Even though the bedroom was down the hallway, it was so loud in the small house that he could feel the vibrations in the floor under his feet. Dalia jumped and shivered every few seconds.

  “Tris?” She’d always called him that, ever since she was a baby and couldn’t say his name right. “Why is Mom doing that? Let her out!”

  Voice cracking he answered her, “I can’t. She’s one of them now. If I let her out, she’ll hurt us. It’s not Mom in there anymore. Mom went to heaven.” He remembered his Mom telling him the same thing at his grandpa’s funeral. The body was just a shell for the soul, the soul went to heaven and left the body behind because he didn’t need it anymore.

  His imagination played tricks on him, he swore he could hear the door splintering open with a crash, shards of wood flying everywhere. His mom would run down the hallway at them, Dalia would scream so loud, so long. Reaching forward, he turned the key that was already in the lock of the heavy steel box because his dad always forgot to put the key away. H
e took out the heavy, solid black pistol. It was a Glock, but that’s all he could remember about it. It felt so scary to pick it up, forbidden almost. He held it out in front of him like his dad had taught him. He remembered there was no safety to switch off on this model, it was in the trigger. The smell of the oil was sharp in his nose, he didn’t like it.

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He ran to his bedroom and grabbed the cool headphones he’d gotten for his birthday. He had the pistol in one hand and the headphones in the other. The door was holding. The chair hadn’t moved even an inch. He didn’t think it was going to be able to get out.

  The headphones were big on his sister’s head, even adjusted all the way down but if he held the ears tight, he hoped it would block out the noise. She laid her head on his lap, finally crying herself to sleep. He jerked every time she, no it, banged on the door. He wished he had another pair of headphones.

  Forcing himself to stop thinking about that night and the ones that followed, Tristan looked across the farmhouse guest room at his sister. She’d curled up into a ball, squeezing her bear tight to her chest. Its brown fur was now matted with dirt, stained in places from their travels. The bear was her lifeline, her safety net against the horrors they’d seen.

  Molly stood by the door, perfectly still like a statue. She scared the shit out of him, even more so when she tried to be nice. She looked like a zombie—a killer—but when she talked to him, his mind couldn’t put the two together. There was something so wrong about it, he knew he should just shoot her and be done with it.

  But, she’d saved their lives. He’d nearly pissed his pants the other night, corned against the wall with the zombies in front of them. He’d shamed himself and let his mother down.