by TW Brown
“Still,” Aaheru countered, “it is uncommon for a daughter to be so well educated except in the most wealthy of families where the thinking has a more…Western leaning than is the norm.”
“My father was the Ambassador to Great Britain,” Ahmes said with a sigh. “We were only supposed to be visiting for a dignitary’s wedding. We were in the airport when they came in great numbers and overwhelmed the security force. I watched my entire family fall under a wave of those repulsive creatures. I managed to climb up on top of a statue. I sat on its cold marble shoulders for two days trying to be silent as those things stumbled over each other. Every time I thought I would be able to crawl down and run, somebody would appear and stir things up again.
“Sometimes one of them would spot me and begin to paw at the statue and make noise. This would bring others. Then, somebody in hiding would try to run and draw them away. Finally, I decided that I had no choice…hungry, thirsty, and covered in my own filth, I made a run for it.”
Aaheru had a new appraisal of this girl. She was not so different from him. She would fight to survive at all costs. Her will to live matched his own.
“You are indeed the choice of the gods to be my queen and the first Mother of New Egypt.” Aaheru felt a stirring deep down below his belly.
Scooping the tiny figure into his arms he carried her to the stateroom that he had claimed as his own. The soft moans of passion wafted from beyond the closed door a few moments later.
Ahi stood in the corridor for a moment. He’d come to speak with Aaheru about a disturbing discovery. The engineer had come to him moments ago to report that an attempt had been made to sabotage the engines. The perpetrator had escaped before being identified or apprehended.
The sounds of passion were rising in intensity and volume. Ahi shrugged. He’d been outside Aaheru’s tent before during such instances. He could wait another minute or two.
***
Mackenzie felt the air swirl across the back of her hand as the mouth closed with a snap, missing her by a hair’s breadth. She staggered back a step as the dog rolled over and landed awkwardly on the floor at her feet. Something struck her in the side knocking her over. Her head bounced hard off the floor causing a bright flash and then the sensation of the room tipping and spinning like the old Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fairs she had loved so much as a child.
There was a commotion and an odd gurgle, followed by a dull thud and sickly crunch. Mackenzie struggled to remain conscious and found herself looking up into a face that took her a moment to recognize.
“Juan?” Her hands went to his cheeks and she could feel the moisture of tears coating them.
“Are you okay?” Juan’s voice was frantic.
“I’m fine,” she moaned, “and if you would get your huge body off mine, I might even be able to catch my breath.”
Juan rolled away and got to his knees. He glanced over his shoulder just as Frank was yanking his machete from the skull of the dog. The two shared a look and Frank quickly glanced around. His eyes came to rest on an old blanket thrown over the back of the couch in the living room. As he went about the task of wrapping the remains of the dog and dragging it outside, Juan helped Mackenzie to her feet. Twice he tried to lift her up, and twice his hands were slapped away.
“I hit my head, Juan,” she said softly, wincing with each word. “I didn’t break my legs.”
“Maybe you should lie down for a while,” he suggested.
“Actually, you get to stay up and be my alarm clock all night.”
Mackenzie patted Juan’s arm as she made her way to the bathroom where she used a make-up mirror and the one on the medicine cabinet to get a look at her head. She fumbled around in the cabinet until she found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
“Pour some of this on my bath towel and dab at the wound. It is going to bubble up, so don’t worry.”
“I know what hydrogen peroxide does,” Juan grumbled as he did as she asked.
A few minutes later, they returned into the living room to find Frank on his knees with a bucket, rubber gloves, and scrub brush, cleaning up the mess from the dog. Juan cleared the table, suddenly no longer hungry. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the dog turning to a deader; he’d seen them before and it was only slightly less unpleasant than seeing a child, but not enough to put him off his dinner. No, he knew damn well what it was. He glanced at Mackenzie who was making small talk with Frank as he continued to clean.
He’d almost lost her.
Not wanting to wait another second, he pulled one of his field belts from the pegs in the hallway and strapped it on his waist.
“So you’re heading out to go find those children?” Mackenzie asked.
“Not tonight,” Juan replied with a shake of his head.
“But—” she began to protest.
“Going out at night in this weather is asking for trouble. We will end up with more people dead and nothing good to show for it,” Juan cut off Mackenzie’s protest. Frank opened his mouth and Juan held up a hand. “And I can’t tell you what to do, but if we are going to have a chance at finding your friends and making it back alive, then we do it my way.”
“So what does that mean?” Frank asked as he carried the bucket to the front door, stepped outside and tossed it. Almost on cue, a flash of lightning lit up the darkness to reveal a pouring rain.
“That means I will get a couple of others to come, and we will let you direct us as to where we search…but I have my conditions.”
“I’m listening.” Frank set the bucket down and closed the door on the storm outside.
“We go out there for three days. If we don’t find anything in that time…I come home and bring my people with me. You aren’t under my orders in that decision only. You want to stay out there and keep looking, then you go right ahead. But I am not going to risk a bunch of my people for some kid who wants to be an idiot.” Juan paused for a moment before adding, “And I am bringing all my boats back with me.”
“That’s fair,” Frank agreed.
“Juan,” Mackenzie whispered.
“Yeah,” he turned with a look of concern on his face. There had been something in her voice that he didn’t like.
What he saw when he turned around brought a lump to his throat. His mind tried so hard to process what he was seeing, but nothing made any sense.
Mackenzie was standing in the arch between the kitchen and the dining room. She was paler than anything Juan could ever remember seeing in his life. She was holding out her hands, both were slick with fresh blood. Her jeans had a visibly growing dark stain at her crotch. She took a step forward and collapsed. Juan was just able to catch her before her head hit the floor.
“Go get somebody!” Juan screamed.
He was only vaguely aware of Frank’s response. He didn’t hear the door open and slam as the man left. He was focused with his entire being on the woman he held clutched to his chest.
***
“Why can’t we just send out hunting parties?” a voice asked from the back of the room.
Chad had called a meeting of everybody in Yosemite Village in the large, open dining room of the hotel that was going to serve as their home for the foreseeable future. With the threat of rebellion and in-fighting seemingly over, now they had to focus on the task at hand of surviving the winter.
“The temperature has been hovering around zero for the past few days.” Michael stepped up beside Chad after a nod. “We just do not have the gear to withstand being out overnight in that sort of weather.”
“But I thought we had foul weather gear…and some of the shops had some pretty nice sub-zero rated clothing,” another voice shouted back to be heard over the grumbles of the crowd.
“Clothing we have,” Michael agreed. “What we are lacking is tents, sleeping gear, that sort of thing.”
“So why can’t we just hunt in this area?” another voice argued.
“Because all the fighting, fires, and zombies have probably run off
every single animal for miles around,” Michael answered with just a slight edge to his voice.
“We are going to have to cut back,” Chad said. His statement was immediately met with a chorus of angry complaints. He let them go for a few seconds before raising his hands to try and settle the crowd.
“We are already practically starving,” a woman cried. “My children can’t keep going hungry!”
Another angry chorus rose. Michael stepped forward again. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for everybody to notice him and quiet down.
“If I have three volunteers, I will take a small group down into the valley. Be aware that, if you come, you do what I say, when I say it. It is not a democracy. We will make a supply run and try to return within a month. We will be on skis going down, so if you can’t ski, don’t bother raising your hand. I don’t have time to teach you. Once we come down out of the snow, we will be on foot. There will probably be someplace down there where we can find a snowplow or something that we can use to make the return trip. We will bring as much food as we can back with us.”
A lot of heads dropped, eyes searching the floor rather than make contact with anybody and reveal the fear. Chad glanced at Scott who nodded. Brett nodded as well, but Chad gave him a slight shake of the head. Brett scowled, but stayed put when Chad and Scott raised their hands.
“No!” Ronni’s voice broke the silence. “If you are going, then I am too!”
“No, you’re not,” Chad said with a shake of his head. “We’ll talk about this later back in the room.”
“No,” Ronni pushed her way through, “we won’t. We’ll talk about this right now.”
“Ronni—” Chad started.
“No,” Ronni snapped. “You have done more than your share. I don’t know who you think you need to prove anything to here. These people all are all happy to sit back and do nothing because they know that you and Scott and Brett will handle things. And lately, with Mr. Clark happy to run around and kill zombies or rebels, or whatever he does when he takes off into the woods, every single person here just sits on their asses and waits for the next meal…waits for somebody else to go out and kill the zombies—”
Several voices rose in angry protest. Ronni stepped up on the small stage beside her dad, Michael, and Scott. Hands on her hips, she glared out at the faces. “Fine…prove me wrong! Which one of you wants to go with Mr. Clark down the mountain and back into town to search for supplies?”
It was as if somebody had hit a mute button as the room full of people became instantly silent. She planted her fists on her hips and swept the room with her eyes.
“Just like when we came up and found that bus,” she scoffed. “Everybody stayed on the bus while my dad and a few others went out and dealt with the problem. Nobody wanted to risk it. And when those guys where stealing stuff and then tried to rape me…you all just stood there while my dad handled it. You let a bunch of people grab him and put him on trial like he did something wrong for protecting me. And when the fighting started…most of you hid in your rooms.”
“Ronni—” Chad put his hand on his daughter’s arm, but she jerked away.
“No! I am sick of it. I am sick of you being the one to kill the people who get bit…you going out when a bunch of those things find us. I lost my mom, and I know lots of people lost family…friends…but I have you back and I won’t lose you again. Not when all these other people are here and should be helping.”
“It’s not that easy, Ronni,” Scott spoke up. “Somebody has to do this or we will all starve to death.”
“Then let’s just go. We can leave these people here to die and go down the mountain.” Ronni spun to face Scott.
“This is the safest place to stay away from those things,” Scott replied. “Sure…sometimes a few wander in, but down there…they are everywhere. We would never be able to rest. And then there are people like the ones who tried to hurt you. Zombies would only be a part of the problem.”
“The girl does have a point,” Michael spoke up. “If four of us go out there and risk our asses, then everybody else here is going to need to start stepping up. Before we leave, we will have a quick nomination and vote for a…mayor or whatever you want to call it. That person is going to assign every able body in this place with tasks that Chad and I will come up with and write down. Those tasks will be done.”
“Or else what?” somebody shouted.
“Or else you will be tossed out of this place,” Michael replied flatly.
“There are more of us than there are of you,” another voice retorted.
“Then maybe the girl is right.” Michael stepped beside Ronni. “Maybe a few of us need to pack up and head down for good to leave you people to starve.”
“Maybe we won’t let you leave,” another voice, this one female, yelled.
A low hum of conversation began to swirl. Chad glanced at Michael who shook his head very slightly. He moved his hand to his hip and opened his coat just enough to reveal the butt of a pistol-gripped shotgun. Chad raised his eyebrows in surprise. Three days ago, all the firearms had been rounded up after it was announced that everything needed to be inventoried and matched up with the limited and almost exhausted supply of ammunition.
He considered Michael Clark for a moment. He knew very little about the man. What he knew for certain wasn’t something that instilled too much confidence. The man had been a part of the gang stealing food…the gang that eventually tried to rape his daughter. Still, somehow, this man had convinced everybody to turn in their weapons for “inventory” just before announcing that there was not going to be enough food to survive the winter.
He might not trust the man, but it would sure be better to have the man on his side than be against him. He gave a slight nod to the man—whatever he had in mind had to be a better alternative than starving to death.
“You’ll do what we say because if you don’t, then we will toss your ass out in the snow,” Michael said with absolutely no emotion in his voice.
“Oh yeah?” a man shouted back. “You and what army?”
“I’m so glad you asked.” Michael drew his shotgun and jacked a round into the chamber.
As if on cue—and Chad would believe for the rest of his life that it was, in fact a pre-arranged cue—ten men stepped out of the doorways on all sides of the room and brought rifles to their shoulders.
***
“So what was he like…that man of yours?” Gemma asked as she shook the last bit from the can of beans they’d had warming on the fire.
The two of them had been in this lecture hall for two days while it rained ice cubes. At least that is what it felt like if you went out in it. It was so cold, and the wind blowing so hard, that if you were out in it for even a moment, your entire face went numb.
“Daft,” Vix shrugged, “like any bloke.” Her eyes clouded over as a million memories flooded her mind. Why, she thought, do you suddenly remember every good thing a person has done after they’re gone.
“He seemed like a nice fella,” Gemma scooped the last spoonful in her mouth and washed it down with a sip of water from her canteen. “Wasn’t he always going out every single time we were needing supplies?”
“That was his way. Never one to sit when things needed doing.”
“Handy ‘round the house then?”
“Couldn’t change a light bulb without breakin’ something,” Vix snorted.
The two shared a laugh and then lapsed into several minutes of uncomfortable silence. Growing restless, Vix got up and went to the door. She listened for a moment before opening it and stepping out into the hall. At the end of the corridor was a door leading outside. A soft glow shone through the window.
The sun! she thought.
Still, it wouldn’t do to get all excited without making sure. Besides, they’d been in that gloomy lecture hall with nothing but a small fire that barely chased away enough of the gloom to see the person sitting across from you.
Drawing her blade, Vi
x stayed close to the left wall. She didn’t know why, but she just felt more comfortable with something at her back as she moved along.
Reaching the door, she had to squint and shade her eyes to actually have a look. The sun was peeking through several breaks in the clouds. It was also obvious that she wasn’t the only person…or thing…enjoying the break. Several shadowy figures could be seen moving about. Of course they could have just as well been moving about before, but when she and Gemma had been running for cover, they hadn’t really taken much time to look around.
She cracked the door to let in a little draft of the cold, clean air. A hand grabbed her shoulder and Vix spun, bringing the sword across to hopefully decapitate whatever it was that had her in its grip.
“Easy, it’s just me!” a voice squeaked.
Vix looked down to where Gemma was sprawled on her butt after diving away from nearly having her head chopped off. She felt anger boiling inside her. That was twice, she thought.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Vix snapped.
“I didn’t want to yell up the hall and bring a bunch of them things after us,” Gemma said with a sniff.
“You still need to let me know if you are coming up behind me. It’s a wonder I didn’t slice you open.”
“Actually…” Gemma let the word die as she held up one hand where a razor-thin slice across the palm wept tears of blood.
“Damn you, child,” Vix hissed.
“I’m not a child!” Gemma stood up, actually stamping one foot as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Really?” Vix raised an eyebrow after a glance down at the offending foot. She huffed and turned back to look outside.
“So, are we going to the hardware store now?” Gemma asked as she moved up beside Vix and looked outside.
“Nope?”
“But the weather—”
“I didn’t say we weren’t leaving,” Vix cut the girl off. “I just said we weren’t going to the hardware store.”
