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

by Simpson, David A.

  He limped slowly, the battle then the long run from the fight had greatly exhausted his energy reserves. His body burned calories much faster in an effort to keep him warm.

  Unfamiliar smells caused his nose to twitch as something drew near. He exaggerated the limping motion of his walk, hoping to lure whatever predator that stalked him in closer. He whined, made a pitiful, helpless, wounded sound and sniffed the wind to know where the attack would come from. Soon he would feed.

  The limbs above his head were filled with the flapping of wings as crows and ravens lighted on the icy, snow-covered boughs. They were too high and too quick and fell into the not food category. He ignored them.

  The sounds of many feet crunching in the snow caused him to turn and face his downwind side. They stood there watching him. A multitude of eyes from a dozen different kinds of animals.

  Diablo didn’t know what these creatures were. Most had unfamiliar scent patterns, more new things in this strange new land.

  The scavenger animals stared at the wounded hyena. They were many in number and had learned to work together to bring down their prey. They were an unnatural selection of coyotes, raccoons, opossums, stray house cats, foxes and pigs gone wild. There were a few dogs still wearing their collars mixed into the bunch as they slowly formed a circle around the injured Diablo. They acted like a pack even though they were all different and this confused him more. How could such strange and diverse creatures hunt together?

  He growled to warn them, low and rumbling from his thick chest. The pack alpha, a large mixed breed bullmastiff answered the growl and stepped forward. This Diablo understood. His former master had pitted him against such an animal many times in the past.

  Diablo struck quick and the two slammed together, each pawing and ripping, snapping and biting, trying to sink teeth and tear flesh in a bloody mix of fur and fangs. The bullmastiff had been a family pet up until the fall of man. He was powerful and strong, twice the size of the coyotes in his band and had never lost a fight. He was the biggest, the most ferocious and led the mixed band of animals because they all shared the same hunger. The same craving, the same addictive need for the infected meat of the shuffling dead. He was fifty pounds lighter than the Hyena and he didn’t lack courage but he had never encountered a beast like Diablo.

  The mastiff never had a chance.

  The hyena had jaws that could snap water buffalo bones and when he clamped down on the dogs neck, he didn’t bite and tear. He didn’t rag him back and forth. He crushed down with the force of a hydraulic press and the Mastiff went limp. Diablo ground his jaws until the head popped off and the body fell to the snow. He growled at the band of animals again then held the dog in place with an oversized paw as he bit open the belly, snapped ribs and gobbled down the still beating heart. He stuffed himself on the entrails and never took his eyes off the surrounding pack. A coyote darted in to grab a bite and Diablo slashed at him. The coyote yipped and melted back into the hungry animals to lick his wound.

  The hunchbacked creature stood in defiance, wolfing down the flesh of the dog as the pack stared motionless at him. His shoulder was bleeding freely but he ignored it. He was asserting his supremacy, daring any of them to attack.

  His appetite momentarily sated, he turned and limped through the forest, seeking a new place to rest and heal his injured body.

  The remaining animals quickly stripped the flesh from the corpse of the dog, leaving only bones for the birds to fight over. They picked up the trail of the hyena and followed the scent of their Alpha.

  49

  Kodiak

  The tribe fretted and worried all the next day. They fixed the fence, took care of the animals, milked the cow and fed the chickens, but mostly they stayed in the living room and waited. The sun made an appearance in the cloudless blue sky and the snows were melting fast. They had tried to follow Donny’s tracks but it was already too late by the time they could no longer sit still and wait. They couldn’t follow what was no longer there. Annalise puttered around in the kitchen and made comfort food, the triplets played with their foxes and the wolf cubs and everyone else tinkered with their armor and weapons to make minor improvements. Yesterday’s battle haunted some of them: it was the first time they had experienced the violence and brutality of kill or be killed in such a chaotic fight. They all had close calls whether it was a zombie clamping filthy teeth down on protected arms or losing their grip on a blood-slicked weapon. They remembered how it happened, too.

  Gordon.

  They didn’t understand how anyone could be so cruel, so evil. He wasn’t alone, either. Every one of the snowmobile boys had been willing to kill them and it was all for nothing. They weren’t starving, they didn’t need a protected place to stay, and they didn’t need anything. In fact, they had much more in their gated community than the tribe had. They had electricity and hot running water and guns.

  They were slowly coming to grips with something Kodiak already understood. Some people didn’t need a reason to hurt someone, they did it because they could and they couldn’t be reasoned with. They only understood and respected superior strength. Fear was the only thing that would keep them away and they didn’t fear the children or the animals. They had been over confident and had been outsmarted but they weren’t afraid. They were angry. They would be back for revenge; they had no doubt about that.

  “Donny and Swan are back.” Murray said from his watch on the window and the room emptied to run outside and greet them.

  Zero was favoring one paw and had drying blood in his fur but most of it wasn’t his. Swan was wearing the hide from one of the hyenas draped over her shoulders. It was huge on her. With the head acting as a hood, the tail dragged the ground. They hugged and didn’t have to ask about Lucy, she told them and most had tears in their eyes when they heard.

  “You two get inside, get some dry clothes.” Harper told them. “Vanessa and I will stretch the hide.”

  Swan shrugged it off, still bloody with bits of hanging flesh, and handed it to them. It would make a fine cloak once it was cleaned and cured and the hatchet slashes were sewn.

  Donny handed him his old cigarette lighter, the one Derek had given him.

  “It was at the church.” Swan said. “We saw the smoke when we came out of the woods, it was still smoldering. It had been full of zombies, that’s where he got them.”

  So, Gordy had stolen it, too. He should have guessed. One more reason for payback.

  They celebrated Christmas a day later but a cloud of apprehension and sadness hung over them and continued for weeks after. As the weather stayed a little above freezing, the zombies started returning, stumbling into the parking lot and congregating at the front gate. They were too slow to lead off, it would take forever so they wound up spearing many of them. The warm spell would be over soon, though. A white Christmas in Iowa was never a sure thing but zero-degree temperatures in January were.

  They talked of leaving but they would have to travel far to be out of the reach of Gordon and his gang and who’s to say there wasn’t someone just as bad or even worse a hundred miles down the road. They did what they could to fortify the house and had drills to see how quickly they could gather and put the wood shutters over the windows. There was no way to monitor or protect the fence line, it stretched for miles so the house became their fortress. Their last stand. Swan had extra arrows placed in strategic locations and they added perches on the roof where she could have a clear shot at those below. Vanessa and Donny used up all the supplies they had to make spears and then started carving more from tree limbs.

  Kodiak oversaw it all but knew it was futile. He put himself in Gordons place and asked what would Gordon do?

  Gordon would come with the next snow because it was the way they traveled and the threat of the undead was low.

  Gordon wouldn’t be overconfident next time.

  Gordon would be careful.

  Gordon would have a sniper shoot anyone that popped up, especially the animals.
r />   Gordon would set fire to the house.

  Gordon would win.

  The snow melt turned to ice and it stayed frigid halfway into January. Kodiak was healing quickly and spent long hours away from the rest of them. Sometimes he roused Otis from his favorite spot in front of the fireplace and sometimes he went alone. The sun was bright in the sky but it didn’t give off much warmth. The breeze from the north brought the temperatures down and they kept the fire roaring to ward of the cold.

  His buffalo robe kept him warm as he made preparations, sometimes using Otis, sometimes working by himself. He didn’t answer them truthfully when they asked him where he’d been all day. Just double checking the fence line he would say. It’s our weakest point.

  They were all busy. The cold made every task harder and they took much longer but they were doing all right. Sometimes Kodiak had to remind himself of that. They had managed to survive when almost everyone else hadn’t.

  Them.

  A bunch of kids who should have been dead the first week.

  They had toughened up, all of them had grown hard. Six months ago, he couldn’t imagine seven-year old’s getting up at the crack of dawn, dressing themselves and going out to milk the cow and feed the chickens. Somebody would have called child protective services. He couldn’t imagine the twins walking into school with braided hair and covered in Celtic tattoos. Somebody would have been going to jail for allowing it to happen. He grinned when he thought of Donny and Swan walking down the hallways with their wolves and panther padding quietly by their side, faces blackened with soot and blooded weapons in their hands. Somebody would have called a SWAT team. Or Vanessa with her tribal scars and spears wearing little more than a loincloth and feathers riding an ostrich like it was a chocobo from a video game. He could imagine the gasps and wide eyes of the other kids as he and Otis lumbered into a classroom. It would be a heck of a show and tell.

  They had done more and grown up faster in the past few months than most people did their entire lives. They had spilled the blood of their enemies, fought and killed and had faced death more times than they cared to remember. He was proud of his tribe.

  It felt like it was warming up a little, there wasn’t much wind but it was coming from the south and it didn’t have the same frosty bite. Kodiak grabbed his robe off of an abandoned car and surveyed his handiwork. Otis saw that he was finally ready to go and hauled himself to his feet to nuzzle him. It had been a while since he’d had his ears scratched and nobody could do it as good as the boy. He knew just the right spots. Kodiak smiled, scratched his friend and listened to him grunt in pleasure then stretch his neck so he could get to the good spots under it. The sky was darkening and the clouds were heavy and hung low in the sky. Some of them were almost a deep purple color. The air was still and it looked like snow. A lot of it. They started the long trek back home as Otis hurried along with his pigeon-toed walk. He had a spot in front of the fire waiting for him.

  50

  Tribe

  It was full dark by the time they made it back to the house, even though it was barely four o’clock. The snows were coming in from the north, thick fat flakes that covered the ground quickly. It fell heavily on Piedmont house and showed no signs of slowing as the twins brought out the bowls of venison chili and their first attempt at home made cheese. It was lumpy and had the consistency of runny playdoh, not at all like orange shredded cheddar they used to pile high on Coney dogs. Tobias looked defiantly around the table, daring them to say something, anything at all, about his cheese. It had taken him nearly a month to make it and he was determined to eat it no matter what. Under his glaring eye, they all complimented him on the chili and made their excuses to pass on the gooey bowl of yellowish slop.

  “Good. More for us.” he said, and tried to spoon some into Annalise’s bowl. She covered it and jerked it away quickly.

  “Uh, I’m on a diet.” she said.

  “Since when?” he asked. “If anything you need to gain weight.”

  She ignored him, shooed one of the monkeys off the table and started in on her chili.

  “Fine.” he said. “The animals can have your share. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He set it on the floor for the foxes and cubs who were there begging and they backed off after one sniff. Neither would touch it.

  Swan started giggling, tried to disguise it as a cough. Her face was turning red from trying to hold the laughter in but it was contagious. As they watched Tobias try to get any of the critters to try it the snickers and coughs got worse. Cody was fit to burst, his eyes bulged from holding his breath and holding in the booming laugh that was going to break free any second. One of Murrays’ monkeys finally took a proffered piece of it and stuffed it into her mouth. She screamed her high-pitched monkey scream, spit it out and ran and they couldn’t control themselves any more. The dining room erupted in raucous laughter, purifying laughter that had tears running down their faces. Every time they would taper off to catch their breath, someone would scream like the Capuchin and it would start again.

  “You guys suck.” Tobias said, but even he finally admitted the cheese was pretty rancid.

  Candlelight, children’s laughter, the warmth of the fire and love filled the rooms as a soft, yellow light glowed through the windows pushing away the darkness and the falling snow.

  Kodiak listened to their even, steady breathing over the sounds of the wind whipping through the eaves and couldn’t sleep. They had gotten into the habit of winding down and going to bed early, usually shortly after nightfall, because they got up early. It was the real first snow in weeks, the first chance Gordon would have to come after them, and it was turning into a regular blizzard. Would he wait until the weather was calm? Would he come in the daytime? Was he wrong and maybe they weren’t coming at all? He had an uneasiness settling over him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t leave his tribe unguarded and vulnerable.

  What would Gordon do?

  Gordon and his band of goons would probably use darkness and the storm as cover. They would come like a thief in the night because they didn’t want to kill everyone, probably just him. They wanted the girls. They could be sneaking up on the porch right now with cans of gas. They might be planning on burning them out and taking them prisoner as they fled. They might have gunners at every door waiting for the animals to panic and…

  He sat up and Otis chuffed at him. He felt the tension in his companion and didn’t hesitate when Kodiak threw aside the blankets and clicked his tongue for him to come.

  When they stepped out onto the porch, he almost changed his mind. The gusts pulled at him and whipped snow across his face. The moon and stars were hidden as the storm gained strength and started to dump its full fury on northeastern Iowa. The wind howled out of the northern sky, eliciting mournful moans and creaks from the old house and it promised more. He thought about the long walk ahead that would probably be for nothing, the weather was turning worse and only an idiot would be out in it. He thought longingly of his bed that would still be toasty warm near the fire. Then he thought of all they would lose if he was right, if Gordon would want to use the storm to his advantage. If he decided to do the easy thing and go back to sleep, they would have no advance warning. Gordon had already tried to kill Otis once; he had no doubt the bear would be their first target. He rubbed his ears where he liked them to be rubbed and made his decision. He pulled the hood up on the buffalo cloak and started down the steps.

  “C’mon, Otis. I guess we’ll be fools tonight even if no one else is.”

  Kodiak set across the park in a steady jog, one he could keep up for hours and set a quick enough pace where the bear wouldn’t get distracted. They made it to the old stone church with its caved in roof, shattered stain glass and fire scorched walls and sought shelter from the wind. He’d been working on and off, making his crude defenses for weeks. He knew when they came, it would be in the snow and it would be cold. They had heated snowmobile suits and hand warm
ers and all he had was Otis but it was enough. The road curved in a long, looping horseshoe around a bend in the river and from the church, he could see them coming from a long way off. It wasn’t far as a crow flies but if they followed the road, it was a mile or two. He had a windbreak with good visibility and between the bear and the buffalo robe, he wasn’t worried about freezing to death.

  Otis was snoring softly within minutes as Kodiak settled in beside him and watched for headlights. Would his traps work? Would they stand a chance when it finally went down? Was he wasting his time waiting for something that might not happen?

  His thoughts wandered. Their survival was a miracle in itself. Of all the places he could have been, he was in one of the safest spots in the world. They hadn’t seen another living adult in the months since the outbreak. If it had been a Monday, he’d have been sitting at school stealing glances at the pretty girls he’d never had the nerve to talk to. He would have been watching the clock, wishing for lunch so he could feed his growling stomach and looking forward to after school. He and his friends would race to their homes and fire up the game consoles and wage war with and against each other. Now, he was getting ready to wage another kind of war. One that didn’t have a reset button if you got yourself killed.

  He was angry. He was defiant. He was tired of it all. He had worried about the threat the Riders posed for weeks. His stomach had been in knots at the thought of what he would have to do to keep his tribe safe. Even after he came up from the water, baptized and changed and convinced he was right, the old Cody nagged at him.

  He was going to hurt them.

  Hurt them bad.

  Probably kill a few of them if his ambush worked out.

  He would be a murderer.

  He didn’t want this. He wanted to live in peace. He’d tried to help Gordon. Tried to do what was right. He didn’t have a beef with the others but they had made their choice and they would have to live with it. Maybe die for it.