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

by Simpson, David A.

  She heard the creak, creak of a rocking chair and the sound of humming. She cracked her eyelids and tilted her head slightly. She tried to give the appearance she was still asleep but restless.

  The humming stopped. “Honey, I think our guest is awake.”

  “Be right there,” a woman’s voice answered.

  “It’s ok. You’re safe here.” A man said gently. “Would you like some food or something to drink? We have some pretty good rabbit stew and real lemonade I made myself.”

  She lay still, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t wearing her armor, she had nothing at hand to use as a weapon and it felt like she was wearing loose fitting pajamas. Injured and weaponless, she considered her options.

  “Boo!” a voice said inches from her face.

  She startled and her eyes flew open. Laughter filled the air and she saw a teenaged girl looking down at her.

  “Dad, she smells funny and it looks like someone drew all over her with a magic marker. Can I draw on her too?”

  The man chuckled. “That’s enough baby. Give her some room. She’s had enough excitement for one day.”

  The girl backed away and Analise studied her. She was pretty in a no-frills kind of way. Her eyes were large and kind. Her smile was filled with the innocence of a small child despite the fact she was older than Analise.

  “Hi.” Analise said.

  The girl squealed in delight and ran behind the man in the rocking chair. She peeked over his shoulder at Analise.

  She swallowed a groan, pushed herself into a sitting position and studied the man and the autistic girl as a woman walked in the room with a glass of lemonade. He was a big man. Tall and broad at the shoulders. He had a gray beard and most of his hair was gray too. He wore black rimmed eyeglasses that had tape around the middle. The kind her dad used to call BC glasses, whatever that meant. He wore cargo shorts, sandals and a t-shirt from a band she’d never heard of.

  The girl grinned at him from behind his shoulder and gave her a little wave. Analise returned it. The woman with the glass smiled at her. She was blonde and pretty with a sassy look about her that Analise instantly warmed to.

  She tensed when the man stood from the rocking chair and stepped towards her. He held out his hand.

  “I’m Tony Spivey, but you can just call me Spivey. That silly creature there is my daughter Sara and that beautiful lady there is my wife Laurie.” He said.

  She shook and his massive fist swallowed her tiny hand.

  “Analise.” She croaked and felt the rawness in her throat. Hacking up so much dirty river water had left it sore and tender.

  “We’re glad to meet you Analise. It’s good to see you awake, you had us worried for a while.” He said.

  “How long was I out?” She rasped.

  “Before I fished you out of the water? I don’t know, but you’ve been here for two days.”

  “Two days!” She threw the covers off, winced at the pain and went to stand.

  She had to get back to the tribe, they might still be waiting in a safe spot near the Walmart. Tobias would be freaking out by now. The Spivey’s didn’t try to stop her as she stood but the big man moved across the room in a flash when her ankle buckled. He caught her by her good arm and helped her sit down. A wave of dizziness washed over her and the pain from her injured leg was excruciating.

  “Easy there.” Laurie said. “Your ankle is swollen twice the size it should be, you’ve got bruises over every square inch of your body and a big hole in your shoulder. It took thirteen stitches to close the wound and you have a knot on the back of your head the size of a goose egg. Here, have a sip.”

  Analise took the glass and drank. At least her throat felt better with the cool lemonade coating it.

  Sara came over and sat beside her and stroked her hair, careful to avoid the knot on the back of her head.

  Spivey watched the girl with a mixture of fascination and sympathy. She was too young to be tattooed all over but there she was. The old scars that covered her arms told a story of pain and suffering. Was she a slave to one of the roving bands of marauders? He felt his anger rise at the thought of what heartless men were capable of when it came to pretty young girls. She couldn’t be more than fourteen at the most. Too young to bear the multitude of scars that covered her tiny frame.

  “Where are you from?” He asked her.

  “Iowa.” She said and tears welled in her eyes, threatened to spill over. “My tribe and I are going to Lakota. We had to leave, there was a fire, and we lost everything where we were staying. I have to find them. My brother and the others are probably going nuts. They probably think I’m dead.”

  Laurie sat beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Your tribe?”

  Analise blinked her glacier blue eyes rapidly and savage pride took the place of the tears. She told them a little of their story, leaving out the whole episode with Gordon and Smiths Landing. She let them think the fire had been an accident, some things were best left unsaid.

  Laurie shooed Tony out of the room as she and Sara removed the bandages to check her wounds. The swelling in her ankle was going down, nothing appeared to be broken, and the gash in her shoulder wasn’t showing any signs of infection.

  “You do good work.” Analise said, admiring the straight, even stitches. It might not leave much of a scar. When she smelled the dinner that was simmering on the stove, she realized how hungry she was and determined that maybe she had time to eat, that she didn’t have to leave right that minute.

  Dinner was a languid affair with lots of talk, second helpings of food, and the Spivey’s had plenty of news to share. They had a radio and listened to Radio Lakota when the signal was good. She told her tale of survival and how a group of ragtag kids had beat the odds. It was the most incredible thing they’d ever heard and Spivey shook his head when she finished.

  “Wow.” He leaned back in his chair. “All this time I thought the wild children riding around on animals was just another tall tale.”

  She was a little confused, she didn’t know how so many people knew about them or had stories to tell. Bob was the only one they’d had any interactions with until they’d gone to Gallatin. She was pretty sure none of Gordon’s gang were spreading stories. She was pretty sure none of them were still alive after Swan had been up all night on guard duty and her armor had fresh blood on it in the morning.

  “That’s it exactly.” Spivey said. “They’re telling tall tales. If a retriever can get on the radio with Bastille, it ups his street cred. The more famous they are, the more they can charge for the work they do so they tell the stories of the untamed children. It’s good radio, even if anybody with a brain doesn’t believe half the stories they tell.”

  “Where are we?” Analise asked. “How far are we from that Walmart?”

  “That would be Norton. It’s about ten miles away. Nothing there anymore but a few undead that didn’t get swept up into a roving horde.” Spivey told her.

  “There’s a lot more there now.” She said. “They were fast, crazy fast. We had a plan, Kodiak always has a plan he makes us memorize. I’m the only one who didn’t make it to the lawn and garden section. They all went out the side entrance once the zombies were all jammed up inside.”

  “They might still be there, I can catch up to them.” She continued. “That’s where we were when we got separated. I went out the back of the store when we got overrun and jumped in the river to get away.”

  “I’ve got to get back before they take off, if they haven’t already.” She said and stood. “Thanks for everything but I need to find them.”

  “You won’t be going far on that leg until it heals.” Laurie said and shook her head.

  “Please, I have to find them. They might still be there but if they’re not, I know which way they are headed. Do you have a car? Can you help me?”

  Spivey leaned forward and looked at her. “Yes, I can help you, but you have to trust us. You need to rest up some, you’ve been comatose for d
ays. It’s almost dark and I don’t travel at night. In the morning, we’ll do everything we can to find your friends.”

  “I need to go now. They’ve got to be worried sick and if they leave, they don’t always follow the roads. We might not find them. I’m not afraid of the dark. Doesn’t your car have lights?” She implored.

  He smiled. “Trust me, I can find them whether they’re on the roads or cutting through the woods and no, I don’t have a car. I have something better. Take it easy tonight and I’ll show you in the morning.”

  25

  Swan

  While Analise was having a home cooked meal miles away, the tribe was making camp in a farmhouse down an unnamed dirt road. The mood was heavy, Tobias didn’t cook and they ate right out of the cans. Harper made the heartbroken boy use the medicinal shampoo to kill the lice. He said he deserved the pain, the aggravation and annoyance of the little vampires. His last words to her had been mean, he’d said he wanted to stab her in the face with an icepick. The rest of the tribe wasn’t having it, though.

  “If we get rid of them and you don’t, you’ll re-infect all of us.” She said. “And besides, if she catches up, you don’t want to give them back to her do you?”

  He’d sighed and used the soaps, medicine and shampoo but not because he thought she’d be coming back. They’d given up hope of seeing her again although they pretended they hadn’t. Donny left markers, signs pointing her down the roads they traveled and Tobias had spray painted her name on the asphalt every few miles with arrows to mark the way. The tribe moved slowly, barely covering twenty miles a day before seeking a place to rest. They said it was for Otis, he shouldn’t be pushed so hard but the truth was they were all weary. The lure of Lakota wasn’t what it once was and they were in no hurry to get there. Tobias sat on the roof of the old two-story house, hair wet from the shampoo and stared back the way they’d come.

  Swan couldn’t stand the melancholy mood and was chasing supper for the animals. She needed something to take her mind off Analise. She ran through the woods trailing her pack. They’d caught the fresh scent of deer and she’d given them leave to run it down. They were far ahead, easily outdistancing her but she’d catch up. She always did. She kept a steady pace, bow slung over her back, her boots nearly as silent as her wolves’ paws. She instinctively avoided fallen branches and the rains over the last few days had left the leaves damp. They didn’t crunch and crackle with each footfall. She ducked under a tree limb and continued her pursuit, following their trail of disturbed leaves or occasional tuft of fur in a briar. The deer droppings she’d found a quarter mile back were still hot. They were closing in for the kill, the animal wasn’t too far ahead. She could call them back with just a whistle but that would mean no fresh meat tonight and she didn’t even consider it. She let them chase the deer, let them be the mighty hunters that they were while she played catch up.

  A blur of motion on her flank snapped her attention to the beast coming for her. Terror, then rage filled her as Diablo lunged out of a thicket and ran straight at her. He barked his laughing bark and launched himself. He caught her by surprise and she didn’t have time to whistle for the pack or bring around her bow. He slammed into her, tumbled her over backward and opened his maw wide. She shoved his muzzle aside as he tried to clamp his oversized jaws down on her face. He snapped and snarled, spittle flew and she could smell the gangrenous pus oozing from the roof of his mouth. She tried to yell but he’d slammed her in the ribs, most of the air had been knocked out of her. The bow dug into her back as he snapped and attacked again, his heavy feet stomping her and clawing at her armor. He lunged for her face again, his jaws wide, large enough to cover her whole head. She threw up a protective arm, tried to roll out from under him but couldn’t move.

  His strong jaws clamped down on the plastic guard protecting her forearm. It kept the canines from piercing her skin, but the powerful force of those massive jaws was like a hydraulic press and she felt the bone snap in her arm. She cried out in anguish and fury as he ragged her arm back and forth. She was at his mercy, she couldn’t shove him off and the grinding jaws would tear her hand completely off. She’d seen what they did to Derek on the first day of the outbreak. They had ripped him apart. She ignored the pain and reached for her tomahawk with her free hand. He shook his head and dragged backwards towards the dense thicket he’d sprang from. She wouldn’t be able to move in there, he’d rip her to shreds. Desperate, she swung her blade. There wasn’t much power behind it, but the keen edge sliced through fur and skin and bounced off his skull.

  He growled, shook it off and kept dragging her to his lair. It felt as if her arm was being torn from the socket. She screamed in agony and rage, swung the tomahawk again and again and tried to wrest her arm out of his mouth. Blood splashed down from the gashes, hot and bitter as it covered her face. She was hurting him, he no longer savagely attacked, he tried to back off and come at her in a different way. He let go of her useless arm and snapped at her neck to rip her head off. She swung wildly at his drooling, blood drenched muzzle and drove the spike into his eye. She smiled through bloody teeth when he howled in surprise and pain. The gooey fluid from his eye mixed with blood raining down on her but she spit and kept swinging. Diablo snapped at the steel that was hurting him and bit down on the fist holding the tomahawk. Fangs sunk deep into flesh but the steel cut him and stopped biting down before he could chew her hand off. In only a second, the battle had turned. She was no longer driving him off, Swan was losing. She was on her back with a beast the size of a small bear ripping into her. It wouldn’t back off, it wouldn’t quit and her kicks were useless. They had no effect on him. Her own blood joined the hunchbacks pouring down on her. The world started going dark as she struggled to draw breath as the thing kept stomping on her, raking his claws across her flesh and armor. She drove a knee into his underbelly. The hyena ignored it, kept a grip on her hand and started dragging her towards the thicket again. He was winning, the fight was going out of the human. He felt her weakening and tugged harder to get her into the dense undergrowth where he could eat her at his leisure. This moment had been coming for a long time and the taste of her blood in his mouth heightened his savagery. Even the pain from his ruptured eyeball wasn’t enough to make him lose his grip. It would be over in moments and he’d feast on her corpse while the hot blood still flowed through it.

  The black was clouding the edges of her vision. This fight was almost over, she felt consciousness slipping away from her as he tugged her out of the clearing. She heard them before she saw the flashes of black, gray and silver seemingly glide across the ground. Their panting breath, the whisper of paws on damp leaves, the guttural growls as they leaped. Time slowed as the darkness gathered around her and the hyena looked up at the new threat. She saw them as they cleared the trees, powerful legs leaping and covering the distance in a slow-motion eternity, graceful in flight, teeth bared and murder in their eyes. Zero remembered the beast, the hulking monstrosity that had taken his mate. The mottled hunchback creature with the distinctive smell that was hurting the pack mother. He slammed into the hyena, easily twice his size and then time sped up again. Swan rolled away, snatched up her tomahawk and ignored the punctures pouring blood. The pack tore into the beast from every angle, brutal and lightning quick they dove in and out, avoided his snapping jaws and savaged him relentlessly.

  They attacked with a fury and ripped chunks of flesh from the hyena. It swirled and snapped but his jaws closed on empty air. Zero sprung and grabbed the beast by the throat and tore out a chunk of skin and fur. Blood sprayed across his muzzle and Meadow leapt in and tore the windpipe and veins out. They knew how to kill, how to bring down prey. Zero spit out the chunk of flesh and watched as his cubs snapped and snarled and tore in to the beast again. Swan was ready to finish him off, prepared to sink steel between his eyes but she didn’t have to. Her pack left him lifeless and lying in a puddle of spreading blood.

  She got unsteadily to her feet, held her broken arm cl
ose to her chest and winced through the pain of every step. Night was coming. She had to get back to the tribe. To her friends. To her family.

  26

  Tribe

  Tobias spotted her from his perch on the roof and ran to meet her. He knew from a half mile off something was wrong. They stumbled through the door of the house and he yelled for Harper. Swan was battered and bloodied and almost out on her feet. They eased her into a chair and Vanessa draped a blanket over her shoulders. She was shivering and cold from loss of blood.

  Kodiak and the boys stood back to give them room as the wolves whined and stayed underfoot. Harper had to push them aside so she could assess the damage.

  “Diablo.” Swan said. “It’s over. We killed him.”

  “Her arm is busted.” Tobias said “it looks bad.”

  When he met her at the edge of the woods, he had wrapped the holes in her wrist with his shirt. He was afraid to pull off the shredded armor on her other arm, it looked like it was helping to hold the bloody arm in place.

  Vanessa cut Swan’s mangled armguard away and they could see the punctures and bruising. The skin was torn from the hyena’s teeth, it had bit through the plastic, but the guard had distributed the pressure. Instead of sawing in, snapping the bone and ripping her arm off he’d only managed to break it. Harper probed at the wound. Swan winced and hissed through her teeth.