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

by Simpson, David A.

  He adopted their manner of dress. Flowers and feathers were crudely woven into his hair. He skinned out the animals and sewed the hides together as a cloak. He had walked for most of the first day before he realized he only wore one shoe. It didn’t matter and he smiled to himself. He was above such creature comforts and discarded the other in a ditch.

  He scavenged when he was hungry or ate from the flesh of the animals that refreshed his clothing. He had no idea how to tan hides, so he wore them fresh from the deer or dog or whatever animal was sacrificed. He wore them until they became too stiff, and then sought out new ones. With the late summer heat he was forced to hunt for new hides every few days. Even the maggots and flies had given up on the furs by that point, but he wasn’t disheartened. There was always game in abundance. Deer or stray dogs fashioned his cloaks, raccoons and opossums provided for his leggings and loin cloth. He paid no mind to the horrific odor they gave off, or the sores that covered his skin from the bites and stings of insects or the rot from the untanned hides.

  Days later, his faith was reaffirmed when he encountered a dozen of the undead while searching for his next meal in an abandoned minivan. The undead paid him no mind, further proof in his mind that he was on the True Path. The truth was that the foul-smelling hides that covered his body masked his human scent and his shuffling gait didn’t set off the undead’s radar. In the Before, before he’d been smote down by the children and reborn, they would have torn him apart in seconds and added him to their ranks. They shuffled by him and continued their slow shamble to wherever they were headed.

  Realizing they weren’t going to attack him and needing to bear witness, he climbed on to the hood of the van and threw his arms towards heaven and yelled.

  “Brothers and sisters let me tell you the story of how God sent his angels in the form of children to vanquish evil from this land. They strike swift and sure but are not without mercy for a repentant soul. I stand before you as proof.”

  The zombies turned and approached the car. They sniffed the air, seeking the smell of untainted flesh that would put them in a frenzy of bloodlust. They served one purpose; carry the virus from the infected to the uninfected. They couldn’t detect his human scent, only the smell of animals and rot. They milled about in confusion as he ranted from the hood of the car and implored them to follow him to truth and light. Eventually they lost interest and shuffled on in search of living flesh.

  The Prophet was elated as he climbed down from the van. They hadn’t attacked him, just stood there while he testified to them. He was certain he’d gotten through to at least a couple of them. He grinned like the idiot he was as he made his way down the blacktop in search of other souls to enlighten.

  As he looked for someone to share the Gospel of the Tribe with.

  3

  Diablo

  Diablo loped along in a broken gait. He was once a magnificent specimen. Covered with thick mottled fur, massive jaws that exerted tons of pressure and weighing in at over two hundred pounds of densely packed muscle, he had elicited fear from every human who peered at him through the iron bars that kept them safe.

  Now, every movement brought pain. His body was scarred from endless fighting. Some areas were scarred so badly that fur would never grow in those spots again. Chunks of muscle had been ripped from him by the sharp steel of the girl and the fangs of her pack. His tongue was thick where it didn’t heal properly from her piercing steel. The puncture from the spike of Swan’s tomahawk through the roof of his mouth impacted his nasal cavity. His nostrils were always running with mucus tinged with blood. Deep aches filled his body where glass had embedded itself in his flight through the window of the children’s den. Biting and pawing at the shards only managed to embed them deeper.

  He ignored the pain. He ignored the new wounds inflicted by the huge assortment of beasts that trailed in his wake. He’d been gored by tusks from boars twice his size, savaged by the claws and teeth of wild cats, bloodied and ripped under the fangs of dogs, coyotes and a black bear that had briefly joined the pack. Every few days, one would sniff his urine, seeking weakness and the opportunity to challenge him as Alpha. Every few days a new challenger died and became food for those who followed. His powerful jaws and desire to live prevailed time after time.

  He had one purpose that drove him onward. The wolf girl. The scent of his brother’s hide draped across her back ignited his primal urges. He didn’t have emotions, only impulses. He didn’t feel hate or anger, only the urge to rend her flesh and crack her bones for the marrow inside while he lay next to the skin of his brother and pack mate. The scent of Demonio had been the only thing of comfort in a life of cruelty and abuse. He whined softly as he searched his olfactory memory for the reassuring scent of his brother.

  Many times, he’d padded away silently in the night to distance himself from the pack. They weren’t like him. The only other like him was gone. It didn’t matter where he wandered off to, within half a day he would hear the grunts or barks as they followed his trail. His distinctive scent and his droppings were clear signs for them to follow. The carrion birds that followed the Savage Ones for their scraps would always mark his path.

  The tribe of children and their animals was easy to follow even though the breeze was at their backs. The animal waste that littered the road and the pungent smell of wolf urine on highway signs led the way. The last vestiges of their fires told where they’d camped, and it was easy to pick out their individual scents where they’d lain for the night.

  Tonight, he would leave the pack for good. There would be a challenge first though. There was always a challenge for the position as Alpha. His instincts told him he was weakening. The pains that coursed through his body warned him that he was past his prime. It was only a matter of time before he was the one that filled the bellies of the others. The canine that followed too closely, the one who was laying his own stream of urine anywhere Diablo did would challenge him soon. He too would fall.

  He felt the temperature dropping. Darkness would fall soon. It was time. Diablo would control the encounter, instead of waiting to be attacked when he sought a place to bed down. He had no desire to be Alpha of this strange pack. Had no desire for any of their ilk. They followed him because he found the food. Diablo tore through the stinking ones with a rapturous pleasure, killed for the sheer joy of it and left his kills behind to be devoured by the rest. That murderous nature and their overwhelming numbers gave them advantages that the smaller animals didn’t have on their own. He mated with the females when the urge took him, but nothing came of their unions. He was unique and alone in the world. He growled low in his chest and stopped his lilting gait when he felt the breath of the challenger on his backside.

  Diablo turned in the road and faced his opponent. The big canine met him with a growl of its own. The dog was large, but not as large as him. The fur stood up on Diablo’s neck, drool ran from his massive jaws. He lowered his head and body to present a smaller target for the other beast. He lulled his opponent into thinking he was afraid. They began to circle one another with vicious growls and barking laughs. The dog attacked first. He darted in and seized Diablo by the throat, sensing an easy kill. Diablo let him. His neck was too thick and the fur too dense for the smaller beast to seriously hurt him. The dog’s stubby jaws lacked the size to reach something vital. With a twist of his head Diablo flung the smaller animal away. It tumbled and leapt back to its feet. Diablo lowered his body again and barked his laughing bark. The dog attacked again, feinted and went for the shoulder that troubled Diablo. The smell of dried blood and traces of infection were weakness it could exploit. Diablo darted out of reach and bit down on the dog’s side. Fangs laid the skin on the dog’s ribs open to the bone and it yelped in pain, and then attacked once more. The hot asphalt soaked up the blood offering as they circled each other. Diablo was faster and more vicious, he leapt forward at the dog, anxious to end the encounter. He’d never been a pampered pet of man like the inferior creature in front of him. M
en had only hurt him and burned any sense of loyalty for their species out of him with their cruelty. He shredded the dog’s ear and opened a gash in its forehead. Blood ran into the dog’s eyes from the wound and it attacked once more. The limited visibility of blood-filled eyes caused it to snap its jaws on empty air. Diablo bowled the dog over and seized it by the throat. He shook his head back and forth until the skin gave. Muscles and veins parted. He ripped them loose and swallowed them down. Blood showered him from the severed arteries. The dog struggled, then weakened, then ceased fighting as its life blood pumped out. Diablo grabbed the dead dog by the neck and growled at the others that were creeping forward. He wouldn’t share this kill. There would be no scraps for them to fight over. He dragged the dog down into the ditch and into the culvert that ran beneath the road as the frenzied Savage Ones began to tear into the weaker members of their pack. They would feed too. Cats, raccoons and opossums fled from the jaws of the larger dogs, coyotes and feral hogs. Soon, more blood ran into cracked asphalt as those too slow or weak to prevail were rendered into gnawed bones and scattered bits of fur.

  Diablo dragged the dog through the other end of the culvert into the grass, away from the others. He thrust his maw into the soft belly and devoured the choicest organs. He ripped flesh from the neck, shoulders and haunches and lapped up the blood that pooled beneath the carcass. He cracked bones and devoured marrow until he was sated. He’d seen the other animals, particularly the dogs that had once been pets of the humans rolling in dead things. It messed with their own scents and attracted stinging insects, but they still did it anyway. He lowered himself into the gore and intestines spread out over the ground and rolled. Waste and blood worked their way into his fur. He continued to roll until his fur was matted with the remains of his opponent.

  He cocked his head and listened to the Savage Ones still feasting on the road above. Without a backward glance he turned and headed into the wood line. Let them follow if they could. He wouldn’t mark territory until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He sensed it was past time for him to leave if he didn’t want to feed the others. His instincts told him he wouldn’t survive too many more challengers and his genetic coding went from fight to flight. That was the way of the hyena, guile and cunning.

  He ran at a painful pace. He ignored the hurts and aches of his body. He stopped to lap up water from a narrow stream then relieved himself in its flow. His deformed tongue caused more water to spill out than went down his gullet. He followed the stream and snapped his jaws at the silvery fish that seemed to glow in the moonlight as they darted through the shallows. Even full, he never missed an opportunity to gorge himself. He emerged on the opposite bank then ran through the night. The woods were thick enough to hide him from the birds. His scent was confused enough to not be followed.

  His instincts told him he was free of the pack. Free to pursue the wolf girl with all his wiles and cunning. Done with the fighting to remain the apex predator among the wild dogs, coyotes, and the strange assortment of animals that followed for his scraps. The pack of animals he left behind faded from his memory. A new alpha would take over and the Savage Ones would continue their hunts.

  4

  Kassie

  Gallatin, Missouri

  Kassie and her little dog Coffee walked across the smooth tops of the storage containers that made up the wall. Stacked end to end and three high, they surrounded the small town of Gallatin, Missouri. Machine gun emplacements were mounted at intervals and bored sheriff’s deputies manned their stations, smoking or dozing to pass the time. Not much happened here. Gallatin was off the main roads and had a population of less than 2000 before the apocalypse. Its remoteness and the railroad tracks that ran through it made for an ideal settlement. It had a good water source and was far enough away from the big cities that they weren’t too concerned about massive hordes. Goods could be shipped in and out by the rail cars or semi-trucks. The huge stockyards west of the walls and the unlimited grazing opportunities allowed the town to secure its place in the new nation as a livestock provider. They raised cattle, hogs, and sheep and even had a herd of buffalo that was growing quickly. Currently it was home to three hundred and thirty-four permanent residents and a few dozen others at any given time. A steady stream of retrievers and Hell Drivers used it as a rest and resupply point between their missions into the badlands.

  Kassie plopped down on the edge of the container and dangled her legs over the side, some twenty-five feet above the ground. She sipped on her hot chocolate and watched as the sky turned colors with the sunrise. It had become her morning ritual. Hot cocoa, a beautiful sunrise then three laps around the town on top of the wall. Coffee sat beside her and begged for attention. He was a scrappy little guy of undetermined origin, but she loved him regardless of his lack of pedigree. Ear buds in, she bobbed her head to the music coming from her cell phone. She wondered where the artist was now. Holed up like her, or wandering among the hordes of zombies that filled the big cities. Other than the pictures of her life before the fall, her phone wasn’t much good for anything else. None of the games she’d had on it still worked, they all needed the internet. She had a large assortment of music though. One of her friends had been gathering all the songs he could find and putting them on some computers in the rec room. Anyone was free to download whatever they wanted and the retrievers were always bringing in more when they found them. Still, she held out hope that one day she’d look down and see the little service bars that indicated a cell signal. There was a rumor that someplace called the Tower still had phones and soon the settlements would too. She couldn’t wait for that day.

  She had no idea what happened to her friends and family when the outbreak hit but she liked to think that everyone in her contact list was still out there. She hoped that all of her Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram pals were safe and secure, riding out the apocalypse in comfort. Deep down she knew that probably wasn’t true but she said prayers for them anyway.

  She and her mom had been one of the lucky ones that escaped the ravenous hordes. They’d been on a two week vacation, half of it primitive and the second half pampered. The first week they camped and hiked the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. The second week was supposed to be boutique bed and breakfasts and some really neat Airbnb homes. When the news erupted with stories of crazed people attacking each other in the streets and the big cities burning, she couldn’t believe it. Her mom’s first thought was that they might have to cut their vacation a little short because she would surely be needed back at the hospital if it was that bad all over.

  The first half of the trip was over and they were both looking forward to a real bed, a hot shower and the swimming pool. They had just gotten back on the main road when Kassie started playing with the radio to see what kind of music the locals listened to. Instead they heard near hysterical broadcasters telling stories of the dead people climbing to their feet and chasing down other people. Looting and rioting were sweeping through the big cities. New York and Chicago were burning, and the firemen couldn’t even respond without being attacked. Bridges were being blown up to stop the tide of undead but they were everywhere. The response was too little, too late. Every town, every city in the country was under siege by the mindless undead. At first they both scoffed at the stories, zombies weren’t real but the fear and barely controlled panic in the newscasters’ voices certainly was.

  They had pulled over at a little all in one gas station, restaurant and souvenir shop, still not sure if it was some elaborate prank. While she was walking the dog, her mom went inside but ran back out, told her to get in the car and lock the doors. She was pale and shaking and snapped at her to be quiet when she’d asked what was wrong. She kept dialing 911 and getting a busy signal. She’d hang up and try again, over and over then started calling other numbers. She didn’t get an answer from anyone. She’d never seen her mom afraid before and it scared her. They sat for a long time trying to call people and listening to the radio with the windows up and the door
s locked. What frightened them more than anything was when one after another the stations quit transmitting or the emergency broadcast signal came on with the same message being repeated over and over. Her mom became calm after a time, considered all of their options and came to a decision.

  “Kassie, Honey, we can’t go home. It’s not safe. What they are saying is true and it’s not just in the cities, it happened here, too.”

  She didn’t mention the woman she saw in the bathroom that had lunged at her with snapping teeth and blackened eyes. Her throat had been completely torn out but she was still moving. Still trying to kill. Linda was an ER nurse, had been for nearly a decade, and she knew the thing was dead. There was no other explanation. No other way. In the second she saw her, she’d seen her jugular vein dangling down the front of her blouse. It was large and unmistakable and it wasn’t pumping blood. The woman was dead and had been for hours. The blood coating her was already dry and flaking off.

  As they talked, they saw a man walking down the road towards them. At first they thought he was drunk, his clothes were torn and he was weaving all over. He snapped his head around when Coffee started growling and barking and zeroed in on them. He screamed and started running right at them and her mom fumbled starting the car. Coffee went crazy as the man slammed into the window and tried to bite through it, his mangled face leaving bloody streaks on the glass. Kassie screamed, Coffee went into an attack frenzy and when the Escape finally started, she floored it. The man tried to hang on, tore the plastic wind deflector off and fell under the spinning back tire. They both screamed as the SUV rocked over him and shot out of the parking lot. Her mom floored it but then just as quickly hit the brakes. Kassie and Coffee slammed into the dash and both of them yelped. Her mom took a few long and deep breaths then very calmly said that’s why you should always wear your seatbelt.