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

by Simpson, David A.

  He knew time was close to when the warehouse battle was supposed to happen. When Jessie and Scarlet would form the bonds that might save the world. Bob hadn’t been exactly sure of the date but he knew it happened in the early afternoon and he’d narrowed it down to within a day or two. When everyone was busy with their duties, he slipped out of the maintenance gate near the river. The electric cart scraped both sides as it forced its way through and bounced across the tall grass towards the river. Putnam was only a few miles to the south and the rutted, overgrown path had been used by off roaders and fishermen. He got within a half mile of the riverfront district before the wooded trail ended on a frontage road. It was close enough, though. He could remain hidden and was sure he’d be able to hear any gunshots.

  He sat, waited and listened for the guttural sound of an old car and the boom of gunfire. Once he heard the first shots he’d know everything was going to be fine. He’d head back to the house and share the news with the tribe.

  The first day of his watch passed with just the sounds of birds and crickets to keep him company. The capuchins played in the trees but didn’t stray far from their boy. He was disappointed but by late afternoon he knew it wasn’t going to happen. He’d try again tomorrow.

  The second day waiting for the gunfire passed the same as the first. Nothing happened and Murray felt that first niggle of doubt in the back of his mind. What if it wasn’t true? They didn’t really know Bob. He could have been an escapee from the loony bin for all they knew. He forced the doubt away and strained to hear anything that would validate the stranger’s story. Nothing. He went over the times Bob had mentioned again. Tobias and Analise were gunned down, there would be a lull and then a gun fight. Him and his girlfriend had buried the twins in the afternoon and met the tribe after dark. It was hard to think of Jessie and Bob as the same person. The carefree boy riding around the country with his gal and the jaded, scarred up warrior hell-bent on changing the world didn’t seem like they could be the same person.

  He thought of a dozen ways that might make the future better. What if he warned them, told them what Bob had told him? Wouldn’t that save the girl? But if he did, then they never would have met Bob because he would have no reason to travel back to save her. It made his head hurt just thinking about all the possibilities and in the end he had to trust the stranger. He must know what he was doing.

  Murray waited until the sun was low in the sky before he headed back to the shop.

  On the third day he sat in the shade and tried to read a book as the monkeys played in the trees. They never went far, always kept him in sight and would scramble quickly aboard as soon as the cart started moving. He was half dozing in the lazy afternoon and the beeping noise caught him by surprise. He tossed the paperback aside and gripped the steering wheel. It was faint, a long way off, but the sound carried. It was the trucks Bob had told him about. They were backing up to the warehouse doors. The tribe wasn’t there, they hadn’t fled in panic and the gunfire that killed Tobias and Analise didn’t happen. Everyone was safe back at the sanctuary. He had just changed the future.

  Everything was different now.

  From this moment forward, nothing was the same as it had been in the world Bob described. A thrill ran through him. His heart thudded in his chest and he strained his ears. His capuchins heard it too and scrambled back into the cart to be near him. He waited for a long time, heard more beeping sounds of fork trucks and an occasional voice barking commands then sighed in relief when he heard it. The throaty grumble of a hot rod was unmistakable as it passed. It was true, everything Bob had said was true.

  Murray listened to the gunfight a short time later and finally relaxed. He’d been tense for weeks, snapping at everyone, arguing against a warehouse raid and generally making the rest of the tribe think he was going crazy.

  Analise was safe.

  Tobias was safe.

  They hadn’t triggered the cult to come looking for them. He let out a long shuddering breath and almost shed tears of relief. The burden of knowing his actions could wind up killing them all had almost been too much. From this moment forward, the future was unknown. He’d spent a lot of hours considering what to do next and hoped he was making the right choice. Bob said he’d met the tribe after the twins had been buried but Murray wasn’t sure if they should meet now. Things were already different, how much more different would they be if it slipped out that Bob, or Jessie, had visited them. How much of the future would it change? Bob said just knowing a thing was dangerous. Murray was still mulling it over when he heard the old muscle car fire up a short while later. The sound of its engine faded away as it drove out of town and that made the decision for him. They were gone. It didn’t matter if he told the tribe now, they were isolated and couldn’t affect anything. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. Nobody in their right mind would. It was probably best to keep those secrets but he’d let them know about everything else. He’d tell them all about Lakota and the rebuilding that was happening. They weren’t alone, there were thousands of others.

  17

  Diablo

  Darkness fell and he was hungry again. He was always hungry, nothing satisfied the craving. The pack had already cleaned out the undead wandering around town and they learned how to get to those inside the houses. Windows broke if they slammed into them hard enough. Diablo led them to a place of slaughter just outside of town and they had fed heavily on the dead lying in the road. They ate and slept then ate some more, the food supply seemed endless for a time. The ingestion of so much nanobot infested meat overloaded their senses. It wasn’t enough to feed and rest anymore, they wanted to feast until they burst. Already they were picking off their own members and ripping savagely into them. Blood splattered and fur flew as those too slow to avoid the larger animals became meals for their own pack. The raccoons and opossums scampered to the trees, out of reach of the snapping jaws of the coyotes and wild dogs. The boars and sows ripped their razor-sharp tusks into anything that got too close, including each other. The feral cats scattered into culverts or abandoned cars, away from the savagery of the pack. Yet, none went far. None would break away from the pack. The horde mentality, the need to bunch together in massive numbers, overrode their sense of self preservation. The raccoons and opossums leapt from limb to limb as they followed the odd procession. The buzzards, ravens and crows observed it all from the safety of the treetops, darting in to grab the scraps that weren’t devoured. A bit of flesh, a shard of bone. A piece of fur with a little bloody skin attached. It was all precious and worth fighting to the death over.

  The moon was high as Diablo followed the old familiar route. They had fled at the sound of the machine guns, out of town and back into the woods. They hid for hours, waited until darkness fell before they came back out. Now he padded along the fences of the zoo, the same as he had many times before. Only his survival instincts had kept him from pushing under the gates and feeding during his many trips to this same spot. He feared the claws of the little ones and the roar of the mighty beasts that guarded them. His kind were cowardly. Scavengers. They were the garbage disposals of the world. They took the weak or stole their kills from stronger animals by sheer numbers and deceit. But he hungered and nothing he ate satisfied him. He craved the hot blood of the living and the madness worming its way through his mind grew stronger with each mouthful of undead flesh he ate.

  He had watched the wolf girl raiding the dens of the humans. Diablo had refrained from taking her several times because of the presence of her pack. They had sensed him but the human smells were strong in the dens and they masked his own. He yearned for the taste of her flesh in his jaws. Reveled in the thought of thrusting his muzzle into her body and eating the protein rich organs while they still pulsed with hot blood. Cracking open her bones with his powerful jaws and devouring the sweet marrow inside. Yet, he’d refrained. The wolf girl killed the stinking ones and left them where they lay. Diablo was confused by the act, she didn’t eat the stinking prey. So, he
watched and when she left the bodies he and his pack gobbled down the kills that had her smell on them. It was the hyena way.

  His own insatiable need overwhelmed his caution and pushed him forward along the fences. He hungered for the warm blood, could smell it from miles away. Humans had scarred him. Kept him caged, half-starved and beaten. Forced him to fight for his life for their entertainment. The wolf and the girl had killed his brother, his litter mate. He hated and feared them but the cowardice grew less every day as the yearning for their flesh grew stronger.

  His nose sorted out the scents, told him they were all there. He’d tracked their smells for months. Had them ingrained in his memory. Their sweat, their urine left on trees or in the bushes. He knew them all intimately. He was ready to take her, he would wait no longer but the wolf girl hadn’t made her solitary hunts outside the fences for days. There had been no dead stinking ones covered with her scent. No deer entrails for his motley pack to fight over. A new human had come, bloodied and weak, and they took him inside. He carried a strange scent that had disrupted their cycle. There was something maddening about his smell that drove the hyena crazy. Diablo lifted his nose but he couldn’t detect that one anymore. His scent had been all over the stinking ones that littered the roadway outside of town. There was enough there for them all to feed without fighting. The pack had gorged themselves for days. Even the smallest had known the comfort of a full belly. But that was many days ago. Food was in short supply now with the disappearance of the horde and the few stragglers they stalked left many of them without an opportunity to feed. Yesterday’s feast was tomorrow’s famine. The more they ate, the more they wanted.

  Diablo craved their warm flesh and would be denied no longer. He whined at the thought of the hot blood that would cascade over his mottled coat. He found the weak spot in the fence he’d marked. He pushed his scarred muzzle against it and wormed his way under the gap. The pack followed. The nimbler ones scampered over the eight-foot chain link while others pawed at the ground, each eager to be among the first to feed. The moon shone full overhead and the birds darted across it, casting fleeting shadows on the ground. Thousands of beating wings stirred the leaves in the trees as they settled and watched or circled and cawed, watching for an opportunity to dive in and steal bits of flesh.

  They approached downwind of the house and followed the smells of the chickens and goats. They approached the petting zoo on silent feet, soft whines and growls came from their throats at the anticipation of feeding. The cow sleeping in her stall didn’t smell them, didn’t sense the danger as she chewed her cud. The roosting chickens never heard them. The goats were oblivious to the threat until it was too late.

  Diablo leapt into the stall with the milk cow and snapped her neck before the first startled bawl escaped her lips. Her eyes were wide with fear when another set of jaws tore at her throat and pulled her down. Hungry maws were filled with warm delicious blood as the animals leapt over the short wall and ripped mouthfuls free. The hyena ignored the cats and raccoons that swarmed over the thrashing body as he ripped at her soft belly. Ropes of intestines spilled out in coils and he probed deeper for the choicest bites. The heart, liver and kidneys. He growled at the others that got too close. They ignored him. They were biting and ripping anywhere they could, a madness overcoming them.

  A raccoon washed his hands in blood, snapped off chunks of flesh and snarled at the other creatures. Opossums slashed at her soft nose as ravens cawed and pecked away at her eyes. It was a like watching a shark frenzy or a school of piranhas strip an animal to the bone in a matter of moments.

  Coyotes and wild dogs attacked the chicken wire of the coop, snapping mindlessly at the metal, forcing snouts then heads through the openings. They ignored the tearing of skin, the broken teeth and the bleeding jaws. The pack was feverish with the insatiable lust for blood. The hens squawked and flapped their wings, each trying to find a spot on the highest roosting poles. The eaters of the dead pushed through the newly chewed holes and fell on them as feathers flew and terrified cries split the night. The rooster flapped and spurred at the beasts, slapped them with his wings and fought to protect his brood. They tore him to shreds. Wild dogs darted in, gulped down the eggs and within seconds, the only sounds coming from the coop was the snapping of bones and warning growls from the pack.

  The two hundred fifty-pound boar tore through the flimsy gate of the goat pen and others rushed in behind him. The herd bleated and ran, tried to leap over the walls but there was nowhere to go. Tusks ripped and shredded flesh.

  The barnyard animals were all dead and eaten within minutes, the attack so swift and brutal that their cries were cut short. The Savage Ones devoured them all, bathed in the blood, but were unsatisfied. They still hungered.

  Bert, Ziggy and Millie heard from their enclosures and snorted warnings. The gates were left open for them to wander in and out as they pleased and when the hungering beasts came for them, they ran. Bert stomped them under foot, Millie bowled them over and Ziggy easily outdistanced all of them. The Savage Ones didn’t chase far, there was easier meat to bring down.

  Diablo, gore stained and insane emerged from the stall and raised his snout to smell the air. He didn’t sniff for danger, he was beyond fear. He wanted more blood. The cow wasn’t enough. She filled his belly but didn’t fill the gnawing ache, the need for more. He smelled panic and terror and followed it on the breeze.

  His nose led him to the enclosure where the foaling antelopes and gazelles were penned. The mixed herd bunched in the far corner and darted back and forth along the fence line, desperate to escape from the smell of death coming from a band of savage killers. He ran at the fence and tried to scale it but fell hard to the ground. It was too tall but he wouldn’t be denied. He started digging at the base, and watched his next kills scatter and regroup. Run then stand still in fear. His yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight and a quiet, laughing panting sound mixed with his snarls. Others saw and mimicked his movements. They dug. Dirt flew and soon animals were clawing their way under the fence in a tidal wave of filthy fur and snapping teeth.

  Diablo laughed his barking laugh as the others tore into the herd, savaged them and pulled them down. He was far larger than any of them and hadn’t made it under before the bloodletting was finished. He snarled his frustration but he knew it wasn’t the blood he wanted. It wasn’t the blood he craved. Only the wolf girl would sate his appetite. Her or one of the others.

  He watched as his pack ferociously tore into them. The antelopes and gazelle flailed their hooves in desperate attempts to protect themselves and their young but it was no use. The Savage Ones swept over them like a flood. They feasted. Their bellies distended from the huge chunks of meat that were forced into them. The blood lust was up and they reveled in killing for the sake of killing. The power of the pack surged through them. The thrill of the hunt flowed in their veins.

  Diablo lifted his bloodied nose to the sky. He caught the children’s scents from the big den. He moved in that direction. He still ached from the hunger that hadn’t been satisfied but tonight he would feast on those he feared. Theirs was the blood he needed, fresh and hot and most important, human. His pack followed toward the house as the carrion birds descended from the sky to pick through the remains of the fallen herd.

  18

  Tribe

  “Hush, Zero.” Swan said sleepily and swatted at the wolf who was growling low in his throat.

  Zero didn’t hush and the pups joined him. They stood, formed a protective circle around her and growled their warnings, hackles raised and fangs bared. Otis chuffed loudly and raised his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t like what he smelled and rose to his feet. Sage chittered and scrambled with the rest of the monkeys to hide under Murray’s blanket. Kodiak sat up and threw his covers off. Everyone was awake and scrambling for weapons.

  “Gordon’s back.” Swan said as Popsicle roared a challenge from the front porch.

  Dust shook down from the rafters as Daisy joined in,
the polar bears bellowing their defiance.

  “Get them inside!” Kodiak yelled “They’ll shoot them!”

  “Where’s Donny?” Harper yelled. “He was on guard!”

  Tobias and Analise both sprang for the doors, fear for their companions and friend overriding any fear for themselves. Popsicle stood on his hind legs, his head brushing the rafters of the covered porch. The twins were half as tall and only weighed a fraction of the roaring bears and were ignored. Intruders were coming for them and they wouldn’t run from a fight.

  They heard the barking laugh of a hyena coming from the blackness and then the snarling, yipping and grunting of a hundred dogs, coyotes and wild hogs as they tore through the carefully planted garden. The stalks danced and fell, the crops trampled underfoot. Swan swore and darted out to the porch, an arrow already nocked in the compound bow.

  Donny and Yewan came sprinting out of the darkness, they had been walking the perimeter near the river when the heard the frightened bleats of the goats.

  “Hurry!” Vanessa urged but he was already running as fast as he could, his panther pacing him, never leaving his side. A boar turned and charged him, it’s tusks glistening with fresh blood. Swan loosed her arrow as Donny flung his spear. Both buried deep in the ridge back, the hog squealed and stumbled but got back to his feet. Donny darted around as Yewan leapt over him and they bounded onto the porch.

  A pack of hundreds had stopped their charge for the house at the challenge from the mighty bears. Beady eyes glowed in the moonlight as the birds circled and cawed overhead. They formed a half circle around the house, all manner of wild carrion animals that had no business running together. It was as unnatural as their hunger and it urged them forward. They could smell the blood and sweat of the children and the longing to fill their bellies was stronger than their fear.