The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3

by Simpson, David A.

  Cody was talking about food and his ears perked up.

  “If we ration carefully, we picked up enough food to last us at least a month on this trip. One or two more raids and that should be enough to carry us through the winter.” Cody said.

  “Now that we know what kind of stores are in town, I have some ideas for some projects we can build,” interjected Murray. He was wrapping paracord around the handle of a homemade war hammer. “We can even build a windmill to pump water.”

  Cody nodded. “Food first, then we’ll worry about that. We also need to do something to insulate the chicken coop and goat pens before it gets too cold. Hopefully in the spring, we’ll have some new chicks and it won’t be long after before we have plenty of eggs to go around.”

  Swan lay on a blanket and stared up at the clear night sky. There were no artificial lights to interfere with the view anymore. The stars looked close enough to touch. She stretched a finger towards one.

  “You know,” she started. “We are all connected. The stars lined up perfectly to bring each of us here so that we could survive. Some of us were strangers, but now we are a tribe. We are a part of everything; everything is a part of us. Mother Earth provides everything we need if you will look and listen for it.” She traced designs in the air with her fingers. The wolves lay on either side of her, lazing in the warmth of the fire. The others paused in their work or idle chatter and listened.

  “Squirrels gather nuts, store them for the winter. They lose a few along the way and a new tree grows. The tree provides shelter for more squirrels. More squirrels means more for my wolves to eat. They make sure the squirrels don’t overpopulate. It’s a perfect design when people don’t mess it all up.” she said with a sigh.

  Donny lowered the file he was using to sharpen his spear point, Yewan curled protectively around his feet. It was an odd speech but she was a strange girl at times. Her mother had been active in the tribal council and she’d been attending gatherings and pow wows her whole life. She was proud of her heritage and its closeness to nature. She saw mankind as a negative influence on the natural world. Her wolves could shred some small animal they’d managed to catch and she didn’t bat an eye but if talk turned to taking down one of the gazelles for meat, she became agitated and would often storm off to be alone. The subject of hunting had been broached a few times during Mr. Baynard’s discussions before the fall and she visibly bristled. They had no right to hunt the creatures of the forest, we should become vegetarians she’d insisted. She wasn’t so vocal about it anymore. She knew the store shelves would be empty sooner or later and her wolves didn’t eat vegetables. They were lousy hunters, it was only luck if they ever caught anything by themselves and she didn’t know how to teach them.

  She talked on about harmony and balance, about the trees and the bees in her melodic voice and how maybe this was all a big reset from Mother Earth. Man had grown too greedy, took too much and the world had had enough of it. They’d forgotten how to live in unity with nature. Nature always provided if you knew how to see it. Some of it made sense to them. Cody thought a lot of it was wistfulness and hopefulness. No one had any idea what had happened to cause all of this. All they really knew for sure was that they were alone and outside their protective fence was a world full of death.

  19

  Donny

  Every night after he got the spear Donny and Yewan would slip out of the back gate and attempt to bring in some fresh game. He’d spent hours throwing it at haybales and finally had it perfectly balanced. It flew straight and true and most of time he could get pretty close to the bullseye. He’d filed the blade to a fine point and it could cut cleanly, penetrate deeply and take down an animal before they knew what hit them. He couldn’t call to his cat so he’d taught him to obey different sounds he made by tapping his ring against the steel of the spear. They were simple commands they could both remember. A double tap meant come. A scraping of steel on steel meant stay. They were basic but it was all they needed to understand each other.

  They’d spent night after night stalking prey or waiting to ambush an unwary deer. On this, the ninth night of luckless hunting, the rising full moon cast the forest in a dim glow as they sat unmoving on the limb above the game trail. It was just past twilight, full dark barely settled in and he was feeling good about their chances. He’d spotted fresh tracks on the trial so he knew it was frequently used.

  Donny shifted slightly, careful not to let his improvised armor creak. His mind was still and clear as he tried to channel his ancient ancestors, tried to have patience and peace. Dressed all in black with pads and guards of various sports gear, he was protected from bites but could move easily. He had modified it to look a little more like Samurai armor. Like the rest of the crew, he was exploring the freedom from society’s constraints. A few months ago, none of them would have even considered painting their faces or tattooing their skin. It simply wasn’t acceptable. The old rules didn’t apply now. There were no grownups telling them what to do or protecting them from being frightened, hungry and cold. They had killed the undead who were trying to kill them. They had stolen from stores and ran with wild animals. Everything was different now and the ways of the past were gone. It didn’t matter if you knew how to do algebra, it mattered if you knew how to milk a cow. Actions they took now had real consequences. Life and death hung in the balance and there was no fallback plan. If any of them made a mistake, it could kill them all.

  If they were to be magically transported back to September as they were now, back before the outbreak, their family and friends wouldn’t know them. They moved differently. They looked at things differently. They listened differently. They could be violent and even the smallest among them would never be bullied again. The other children would shy away, they would sense the savage and the wild just below the surface. They looked untamed with the best movie quality Halloween costumes any kid ever had but they weren’t costumes. They were functional tools and the weapons they carried weren’t plastic. The blood stains on them weren’t fake.

  The twins had embraced their Nordic heritage and looked more like Vikings every day. Swan looked every bit like an Indian warrior and Donny was trying to emulate his brave and fierce ancient ancestors. His hair was getting long again. He’d kept it short during the summer but now it was already over his ears. By the time the winter snows came, it would help keep him warm. He had taken to wearing his armor all the time and it felt as natural as a shirt or pair of blue jeans. So far, the park had been secure but anything could happen at any time. The speed and fury of the outbreak had shown them that. Beside him, Yewan sensed something coming and twitched his tail in anticipation, his golden eyes focused and unblinking. They were both learning patience, the panther learning his commands by sound and touch.

  A pair of whitetail deer walked along the game trail towards the tree that concealed the hunters. They moved cautiously in the low light, stopping often and sucking up the acorns that littered the forest floor. With their sensitive noses analyzing every scent and their keen eyes alert, they searched the night for predators. They sensed something was amiss but their noses and sharp eyes weren’t registering anything. They didn’t look up. Lowering their heads, they continued their walking graze inhaling the fallen acorns by the mouthful.

  Donny laid a hand on Yewans neck, trying to transmit his thoughts to the black panther. Not yet, he thought. Not yet. Impatience had cost them a chance at a kill more than once over the last few nights. They couldn’t rush in and chase them down. Donny wasn’t very good throwing at a dead run and the deer were wily and quick. Yewans speed would have helped him in an open field but the brambles and underbrush slowed him while the deer bounced right through it with graceful leaps. As the pair moved beneath them, Donny removed his hand from Yewans neck and stepped from the limb.

  Before the startled deer could react, Donny dropped the ten feet and drove the spear through the ribs of the one right below him. Yewan landed on the back of the other, sank his claws int
o its sides, his fangs into its neck and rolled it to the ground. Sharp teeth sheared through the spine, instantly paralyzing the deer as the taste of warm blood filled his mouth.

  Ancient instincts flared to life as the flow of fresh blood reawakened them. He hunched low and let out a growl, guarding his kill. His first but now that he knew how, it wouldn’t be his last. Donny’s heart hammered as he looked at the results of their ambush. Not one, but two fine animals that would help sustain the carnivores and feed his tribe. After weeks of trial and error, of chasing and waiting, of fruitless nights that ended with disappointing results, they had finally figured it out.

  Donny gave him time for the blood lust to calm, then dropped to a knee, rubbing Yewan behind the ears. The big cat leaned into him and boy and beast reveled in the glory of their first kills. He bled and gutted them so they’d be easier to carry then shouldered the first one to haul it to the back gate and the golf cart waiting for him there.

  He pulled up near the campfire where the other kids sat assembled with some of the animals and felt himself swelling with pride as they gathered around the back of the cart, congratulating him and Yewan on their hunt. Otis shuffled up cautiously, giant nostrils overwhelmed by the smell of fresh meat. Donny stroked Yewan who was growling a warning to the big bear. Otis ignored him as he continued his inspection, his mouth watering at the delicious smell of something other than dog food or a tiny rabbit.

  They decided it would probably be best to get the fresh meat away from the animals before they started fighting over it and hurried it over to the storehouse. They strung them from the ceiling and chose the one Yewan had chewed up for the animals. With saws and hatchets, they carved it up and carried chunks of the still warm meat to their companions. The wolves and the bears tore into it hungrily as Cody carved off slices for the foxes they kept penned up at night to keep them from being too tempted by the chickens.

  Swan watched, battling her feelings about hunting innocent animals and couldn’t help but feel slightly repulsed by what Donny had done. She had felt the anticipation and trembling of Lucy and Zero when he’d first pulled up though and realized how much they needed the meat, especially Lucy to feed the cubs growing inside of her. They couldn’t keep eating dog food. The world had changed and if she wanted to live, she had to change with it. She had to put aside yesterday’s thinking that killing any animal for any reason was wrong. Those were childish thoughts; she was part of a pack now and it would be getting bigger soon. Her wolves still couldn’t hunt, still couldn’t take care of themselves and it was her fault. They needed her to teach them like Donny had taught Yewan.

  Donny sensed her watching him and turned to meet her stare.

  “Teach me to hunt,” she said, “so I can feed my pack.”

  He nodded once. She turned away and went back to her wolves.

  It was cool enough so the meat wouldn’t spoil, it was already dropping down below freezing some nights. Tomorrow they could break out the books, follow the directions and carve the other deer properly so they didn’t waste any of it.

  After the others left the storehouse Donny cut the heart loose and carried it out to the campfire. The deer kills meant something big and they knew it. They had entered a new phase in their lives. They wouldn’t be reliant on fish and the occasional rabbit. They wouldn’t have to butcher their goats to survive the winter if a horde moved in and they couldn’t get to town. He held it up for all of them to see then sank his teeth into it and tore off a small piece. He swallowed it down before he lost his nerve and gave the rest to the big panther standing at his side.

  They wanted to cheer and clap to honor their hunter and the first kill but that wasn’t appropriate, they’d learned to stay quiet and not make unnecessary noise. Cody pulled his Warhammer from its sheath and held it high in the air. The others followed suit with their spears and tomahawks, Gordon holding his machete aloft along with the rest. Donny smiled and bowed slightly to them. He wiped the blood from his chin, picked up his own spear and left the warm glow of the fire. Yewan followed him silently on padded feet and the pair disappeared into the night.

  Gordon watched the others and sat back down when they did. He’d learned to try to blend in, to pretend he didn’t hate it here, that they were all crazy to spend so much time with wild animals. These kids weren’t right in the head, he’d decided. After a few weeks, Cody had said he’d throw him out of the park if he didn’t stop complaining and start doing his share of the work. They’d do it to. He believed him. He wasn’t afraid of them, not really, he had his machetes. He didn’t trust them not to sic one of their bears on him though. Or those wolves of Swans. He hated them and they never missed a chance to growl at him if he came too close. They’d be happy to tear into him.

  20

  Swan

  Like Donny, Swan had also abandoned the house for the comfort of the pack on the warmer nights. Nestled beneath her blankets, cuddled with the wolves, she would stare at the sky, wandering if her Mom and Dad were still out there. Maybe they had found sanctuary.

  As the days passed and the chill November winds blew in, she moved back into the house. This time the wolves came with her. Lucy was preparing for the birth of her cubs; her natural instincts had her hunting for a protected spot and Swan built her a den in the corner of the unused office.

  Swan sat with Lucy’s head in her lap, the first-time mother panting with the exertion of giving birth. Zero approached, submissive in his posture and lowered his head to lick her muzzle. Lucy growled at her mate to keep his distance. Cowed, Zero backed away but kept watch over her and the soon to be born cubs.

  The first pup came minutes later, followed by two more. Swan cried at the sight of their tiny, mewling bodies. They were so helpless with their eyes still closed and their legs moving in uncoordinated ways. Her pack was growing. She swelled with pride and stroked Lucy’s head.

  Lucy pulled away and began licking her cubs. Cleaning them and forming the emotional and physical bond that let them know she was their mother. The puppies whimpered, blind and helpless as she guided each of them to her nipples so that they could take their first meal. Swan was in love with them already and began thinking of names. River, Valley, and Meadow, she decided for the two males and the female greedily suckling their mother.

  The other children gathered at the door, anxious to meet the new arrivals. All but Gordon, he knew better. He took advantage of a rare opportunity when everyone was preoccupied gushing over the babies and hurried into the kitchen. The creepy twins were in charge of the cooking and they were stingy with the food, especially the good stuff. He opened the pantry and pulled out a handful of Twinkies, making sure he closed everything back up before sneaking them up to his room. He had the only one that locked and that’s why he’d chosen it. He found the key hanging on a rack in the kitchen but now he wore it around his neck.

  Swan finally shooed them out of the room to give the new parents some time to themselves and joined the rest as they gathered around the fireplace in the living room. The babble was excited and Murray was skimming through his eBooks, trying to find out about polar bears and if they would be having any babies soon. Swan ran her fingers through her black hair. It was wild and growing longer than she’d ever worn it. She’d never been fashion conscious, preferring loose baggy clothing that hid her developing body and maintenance free hairstyles, usually opting for a braid or a ponytail. She had an idea for it but would need Annalise help her pull it off.

  Swan had been hunting with Donny twice so far but had been unsuccessful in her efforts taking anything larger than rabbits or squirrels. The wolves hunted differently than the panther, preferring speed over stealth to take prey. She found lying-in ambush to be boring, the wolves hunted by sight and smell, preferring to run their game down. She couldn’t sit still and quiet for hours barely moving a muscle. That was Donny’s way of hunting but it didn’t work for her.

  She needed to learn the bow and arrow but she still struggled with the one Tobias had take
n from the sports store. He had given up on it when he found it too hard to pull. It was all he could do to cock it and lock an arrow, his skinny arms trembled with the effort. He abandoned it and once she decided she was going to learn to hunt, she’d been working with it. With Murrays help, they changed the settings so the compound bow was easier for her to pull. She did pushups to build her strength and practically ran everywhere she went, also wearing her armored pads, developing muscles that would help her in pursuit of the fleet footed game they pursued. She couldn’t let her wolves run down game like they would in the wild, though. She couldn’t keep up; they might travel thirty miles without tiring and they could run twenty miles an hour. She didn’t feel safe that far from the Park, there were hordes of undead roaming around. She needed to get better with the bow, it would let her bring down bigger game like the deer that were in abundance. Gordon had said they were stupid for not using guns. He said it would make life so much easier. She agreed with Cody, though. There were a hundred undead at the front gate trying to get in. It was solid steel and the fences at the front of the park were the best and strongest, a reassuring sight for the tourists. In the back of the park, where they would be shooting, the fences were old and rusty. They were only there to keep the gazelle inside and if they attracted a huge horde of the undead with gunfire, they could probably tear right through it.

  Swan had a pair of tomahawks she’d taken from the sporting goods store. A sharp blade on the front edge and a spike on the back gave her a double opportunity at landing a fatal blow. She’d picked them up because she thought they looked cool and it was a weapon her ancestors had carried. She’d learned how to be deadly with them though. At first, she hurled them at the barn door, her aim wild and all over the place. Once she learned how to make them stick every time, she moved to smaller targets. There was a science behind the skill, the hatchet rotated as it was thrown. You just had to be the right distance so it had time to spin and hit the target with the head and not the handle. Once she figured that out, it was no harder to learn to hit the bullseye than it was throwing a basketball through a hoop. Now, after a month of practicing hours every day, she could hit a fence post from thirty feet in a full sprint. She got better every day and could kill a scampering squirrel with the lethal steel most of the time. Her wolves were eating better and on a good day, there were a few extra for the twins’ stewpot.