by Betts, M. E.
PART II: THE INCUBATORShari stood in an unfamiliar, decaying house. The floorboards looked as if they'd give way like wet cardboard if she stepped on them, and there were wide gaps between them. She realized she wasn't alone, and she watched in amazement as a masked belly dancer danced wildly, feverishly, as if she wasn't aware that the floor was about to collapse beneath her. Her hips swung erratically, her hair flailed around her as she whipped her head back and forth. Shari approached her tentatively, conscientiously avoiding the cracks in the floor, each step deliberate. The figure stopped cold, snapping her head in Shari's direction. Those eyes are familar, Shari thought. "Mom?" she said timidly, reaching out to touch her. All at once, the flesh of the woman's upper face, her arms and back, her belly, her legs, all rotted away. The figure she was now gawking at was nothing more than a skeleton with jerkied skin stretched over it. The atrophied belly dancer raised its osseous hand, pointing into the next room.
Shari carefully crossed into the room, a kitchen, which appeared to be a dilapidated version of the one in her childhood home. On the table was the lovingly prepared feast, now spoiled, that she and her mother were to have made. It was the one her family was supposed to be eating on Easter Sunday. She walked up to the table, gazing into a cup of chai tea. The milk swirled in the tea, and she watched as the pattern took on a familiar form...planet Earth. As she continued peering into the cup, she saw a lit match fly through space, igniting the earth as it passed. The blaze was extinguished after a moment, and as the smoke cleared Shari saw the green of the land masses and the blue of the oceans. They were sparkling brilliantly, alive with color...color more vivid than any she had ever seen in her life. She was jerked out of her reverie by a sinister laugh. She looked behind her...the belly dancer was standing directly behind her. She jumped, startled, and sank through the floorboards, falling into the dark basement below.
She awoke in the queen-size bed that sat in the corner near the balcony. Fauna had spent the night in a recliner looking out the balcony doors, unable to rest. A survivalist can't help but keep watch, she had told Shari."You can keep an eye out tomorrow, return the favor while I sleep," she had said. "You just rest. You need it."
Shari took her toothbrush and toothpaste from her duffel bag, which she had retrieved from the car the previous night before the sun had gone down. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, then joined Fauna on the balcony, where she sat on a lounger looking through a pair of binoculars.
"Good morning," Shari said as she sat down in the other lounger. "See anything?"
"Nothin' good," Fauna replied. "World fulla dangers out there." She turned toward Shari. "And it's time you start learnin' how to take care of yourself. A girl's gotta be prepared to defend herself out there, now more than ever. Today, I'm gonna give you your first bow lesson."
"I'm in no position to argue," Shari said, surveying the surrounding countryside. Thick, black smoke clouds were dotting the horizon, presumably from both car accidents and house fires. She could only imagine the kind of chaos that was ensuing outside of the relative safety of Fauna's property, past the thick, crowded sentry of near-ancient hundred-foot-tall pines lining the road. Her mind raced, thinking of what would happen in larger towns and cities, of what would happen to her friends and family. She thought of the one who had called himself I_eat_libtards_for_breakfast, and supposed that if the zombies had hit Green Bay, there was a good chance he had made good on his name this morning.
"I got a few earlier while you were asleep," Fauna informed her.
"Zombies?" she inquired, wide-eyed. Fauna nodded in confirmation. Shari walked over to the balcony railing and looked down. They were there, sure enough. One was about twenty yards out, the other two about ten feet from the garage. "Head shot," she said quietly, noting the arrows embedded in the craniums of the three bodies that lay sprawled on the ground. "Is that what kills them?"
Fauna nodded. "I think so. Though to tell you the truth, I didn't even mess around with body shots, so I can't be sure. I figure a head shot's more likely to take anything down, be it man, animal, or monster. Plus," she said, grinning, "they always tell you in the zombie movies to go for the head. Still, I guess some experimentation is in order. Next ones to come along, I'll go for the heart, see what happens...but I got a hunch says it's head shots we need."
"They all chewed their lips off," Shari observed, squirming and grimacing.
"Yeah," Fauna said, "I guess they got hungry." She laughed. "They ain't got the mentality to know any better, or care. Another thing I realized--I don't think they can see. The ones I saw yesterday at the campground, they were obviously lookin' around, you could tell. But it seems they go blind after awhile."
"So...that means they're probably not getting blood flow to their eyes?" Shari asked.
Fauna shrugged. "I guess so. I couldn't say for sure what's doin' it, but they're blind as a bat, at least if they're not fresh."
"Huh...interesting," Shari said. "So what do we do with the bodies? If we leave them there, the smell will most likely make us sick."
"Drag 'em out to the other side of the property for now, I guess. I'm inclined to say let's burn 'em, but there's still the possibility that they'll get this shit under control, in which case somebody might come lookin' for the bodies, maybe for documentation or research, or so the surviving family members can bury their dead. I gotta say, though, I highly doubt that. Still, if I leave the bodies intact, it covers my ass in the event of that highly unlikely scenario. I'll hitch 'em to the horses, have them do the dirty work. Take 'em clear across the property, about 150 acres to the north. The smell won't bother us there. Hell, maybe if we're lucky it'll be a warnin' to the next fuckers that try to mess with us," she joked, snickering.
They had dressed the largest of the three horses and were preparing to transport the bodies across the field, through a small wooded area, and up to the north end of the property. After they dressed the horse, they attached the corpses. Fauna took the lead and they started to walk north.Fauna appeared to be deep in thought, eyes ahead. She seemed to struggle to articulate her words, attempting to speak three times before she actually got any words out. "Zombies or not, it don't feel right shootin' a person in the head. You and me, we were safe up in the loft. They did bite one of the horses, but apparently they weren't too dead-set on it. Just a bite on the neck, not really gouged like what they'd do to one of us. I don't know if it just didn't like the taste of horse, or if the horse fought back, but for whatever reason, that zombie didn't stick around to finish the job." She paused. "Those things...I know theyr'e dangerous, I know they ain't people no more, I know they couldn't be saved. But still...it don't feel right. I wish I didn't have to do it."
Shari stopped and looked her in the eye. "Don't feel bad, Fauna. They were goners before you shot them. These are desperate times, and desperate times call for--"
"Desperate measures,yeah," Fauna finished, frowning and looking over at the bodies. "Besides, you're right. Some of these injuries are real horrific. You don't heal a jugular that's shredded and torn that bad. Ain't none of these people coming back to life, even if you give 'em the zombie antidote, and that's if they ever even come up with such a thing. Sounds ridiculous to me, personally. And we've yet to see what happens if you get bit and it's a non-life threatening injury. I guess in theory, if somebody just got scratched or grazed, they might still turn into a zombie eventually. And if that was the case, maybe those ones could be cured...as long as they haven't died yet, that is. We just don't know enough about this yet. That old man back at the campground, he could've already been walkin' around with a bite for all I know, doin' like a lot of people and cleanin' it then not thinkin' too much about it. Maybe not even tell no one about it. Or could it be he died of a heart attack, no bite involved, then got back up? We won't know the answer to that question 'til we see someone die of natural causes...or at least not anythin' zombie-related...and see if they get back up or not." She shook her head. "Not knowin' the answers to these que
stions is real troublesome. But how many people are sittin' around at the CDC, or some lab somewhere, tryin' to figure this shit out? Probably not a lot. And at any rate, even if someone finds a cure, I doubt there's any infrastructure left of the government, or society in general. Who's gonna take charge and clean this up, and go door to door distributin' a cure? Anyone higher up in the government is doubtless hidin' their sorry asses in a bunker somewhere. Can hardly blame 'em, really. Hell, for all any of us know, they could be on a spaceship headed for some other planet untouched by any of this. Nothin' would surprise me at this point." She rubbed her face vigorously, as if to snap herself out of a particularly gripping daydream. "There's no point even speculatin' about any of that. The point is, even once people can begin to come out of hidin' again, it's gonna be a lawless world. Too much has gone to shit way too fast for it to be any other way. It's gonna be the Wild West everywhere you go. Ain't nobody comin' out to make the world right."
"Maybe it's local, or at least just regional," Shari offered hopefully.
"Let's think about this for a second, darlin'. How many planes do you think leave every day just from our little regional airport? Now, they couldn't have known in the earliest stages of this to inspect every damn person gettin' onto the plane, see if they've been bit, not when it was before most of us had any inklin' that this shit was even happenin'. And not everyone who was bit is gonna go flappin' their jaw to every stranger they come across, talkin' 'bout, 'Some crazy fuckin' chucklehead bit me!' If it's not a gushin' wound, most of them might go to the ER, get disinfected, maybe get some bloodwork sent in to make sure they didn't contract HIV, and go about their business, even if that business includes gettin' on a plane. Now, I'm sure once the ER has had enough cases of people bein' bit by other people, they probably started to admit some of those people, tell 'em they weren't allowed to go home yet. At some point, they got some realization that it's an epidemic, or at least some kind of mass hysteria, and they wanted to contain it. But that point, evidently, came too late. Even if a handful of people got on those planes, who knows what corners of the country, or the world, they wound up on? Now take that little dinky airport, and imagine it's O'Hare, La Guardia, LAX, DeGaulle? It just gets more dire the more you think about it. And these ain't no Night of the Living Dead, 'I'm gonna lumber up to you real slow'-types zombies, these some 'I'm gonna run like I don't care if I rip every tendon and ligament and muscle in my body'-type zombies." She sighed. "And you're assumin' it's an outbreak. You're forgettin' one very important detail I remember mentionin' yesterday...that they were reportin' it the world over. Don't get me wrong, this shit is bound to spread like wildfire...wildfire that seemed to pop up around the globe all at once."
Shari snickered. "And there have been all those fake zombie invasions lately."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Have you seen that on the news? People have been getting professional makeup artists, the kind they have for the movies, and having people go out into the streets in major cities, pretending to be zombies. They go up to people trying to scare them for fun, you know, make a video and put it on the internet." She smirked. "I don't know how all those jokesters managed to avoid getting their heads bashed in, or shot. With all the zombie lore popping up in the media for the past forty years or so, you'd think somebody would get a little hasty and take one out before they realized it was a joke. But I always wondered if it would have a 'boy who cried wolf' effect. I mean, I didn't think it was too likely real zombies would ever show up, but what if they did? Would people laugh, try and put their arm around the zombie so their friend could take a picture, before they got their throat ripped out?"
"Oh, I guarantee it's happened," Fauna said, grinning darkly.
"'OMG, that's hilarious!'" Shari exclaimed obnoxiously, morphing at once into a vapid airhead. "'Your make-up is super-realistic. It looks just like your mandible has been torn off! How on earth did they do that? Oh wow, it feels just like you tore my throat open! So cool. I can't wait to put this on Facebook!"
Fauna stopped and pointed. "Here we are, the stream that marks the boundary between my property and the Jensens'. This is where we dump 'em."
They untied the dead from the horse and started back south toward the house and garage.
"I know this should be the least of my worries, but I can't stop thinking about the date I was supposed to go on next Friday," Shari said. "This guy named Tim...tall, masculine, easy to get along with. I wonder what happened to him..." She spaced out for a moment, staring absent-mindedly into thin air, then snapped back into the present reality. "It was our third date, and I think I'd have gotten some." She looked at Fauna, and they both laughed. "Am I wrong for thinking of sex at a time like this?"
"No, I think it's only natural. When we're afraid we might die, our reproductive instinct kicks into high gear. Our libido doesn't understand the danger of bein' pregnant in a world like this, or for that matter, bein' a frickin' infant in a world like this. We feel our personal survival may be threatened, and next thing we know, we're bombarded with unconscious thoughts of survival of the species. Our collective consciousness's way of makin' sure that we survive as a species, I suppose. Make sure there's always some new people to take the place of all the ones who are dyin'."
"I didn't know you were into psychology!" Shari teased, grinning.
"What, you think a plain-spoken country girl can't be well-read?" Fauna said, grinning back.
"No, I just didn't know, that's all." Shari stopped for a second to pick a wild rose growing up an ancient piece of fence. She tucked it into her hair, which was secured in a ponytail at the top of her head. "I like that stuff, myself. I'm kind of a bookworm. I guess it makes sense that I wound up being a librarian."
"Don't let the cowgirl facade fool you, I've got a good collection of books myself. 1,342, at last count. All subjects, too...fiction, reference. Lots of science, some different kinds of theology. And yes, some psychology. A couple hundred books up in the loft too, in case you didn't notice."
"I didn't know you had that many up there," Shari said. "I'll have to have a look later, see if I see anything of interest. I have a feeling we'll be spending a lot of time up in that loft, probably get bored out of our minds." They walked on in silence for a moment. "So how did you get to be so skilled at survival?"
"Learned a lot of it from my daddy and granddaddy," Fauna responded. "Spent a lotta time with 'em, campin' out, bowhuntin', fishin'. Learned a lotta useful skills, like how to make a homemade bow, how to follow tracks, what plants in the wild are useful or edible, and which ones'll kill the shit outta you. Me and my husband Mitchell, we share a lotta the same interests, too. Met on a survival tour here in Kentucky." She gazed off into the distance absently. "That man knows how to handle himself. I'm sure, wherever he is, he'll be alright. Our whole lives, we've been preparin' ourselves for somethin' like this. Not zombies, per se, but our whole philosophy on life has always been that, well...you gotta be prepared for anythin'. That way, nothin' can take you by surprise.'"
They approached the garage. "So when are you going to give me this bow lesson you were talking about?" Shari asked as they entered the building and climbed up to the loft..
"To be honest, I think I'm ready for that nap I mentioned last night. You mind keepin' an eye out while I'm asleep? We'll get some target practice in after that."
"Yeah, sure."
"Just wake me up if you see anything."
"Will do," Shari replied as Fauna flopped down onto the bed, setting her bow down on the blanket chest. She decided to look through the collection of books before she headed out to the balcony to keep watch. She found the large, double-sided bookcase in the far corner of the room opposite the bed. She gazed at the titles on the spines. There were books on astronomy, physics, automotive repair. There was a lot of reference. A volume on ham radio caught her eye. This might be useful at some point, she thought, her mind flashing back to the radio setup she had seen in Fauna's garage. She went out, book in hand
, to sit on the balcony lounger. She was about twenty pages in when she heard a vehicle tearing down the road and into the driveway, and then a commotion near the house. She went back into the loft to look out the window where she had a better view of the front porch, and her face went pale. She ran over to the bed and shook Fauna awake.
"What's going on?" Fauna inquired drowsily.
"We have a problem."
"Fauna, be careful! His neck is gushing blood, he might turn!"Fauna wasn't listening. She was already climbing down the ladder, and running out the garage door. Shari had explained to Fauna that she thought the man was her husband, since he was near the front door of the house when she had seen him, fumbling with a set of keys. He seemed panicked, and there was a large gaping wound on his neck.
"Mitchell!" she heard Fauna shout. Well, that confirms it, then. That's her hubbie. For now, at any rate. He doesn't look as if he'll last much longer. She looked back toward the bed before she climbed down from the loft. Damn it, she didn't even bring her bow.
She climbed down and exited the garage. Fauna and Mitchell were standing on the porch, hugging each other while she sobbed. "What happened, baby?"
"I rushed back here. Everything's gone to shit, Fauna, there wasn't nothin' but chaos the whole way here. I don't know what the fuck's going on, but I wanted to get back to you, make sure you were okay. I should've known better, my girl knows survival better'n anybody, doesn't she?" Fauna smiled through her sobs, taking his face in her hands as he continued. "I was on the highway just a couple miles from here, and there was a car crashed into a utility pole. That car was smashed up real bad. The front bumper was where the front seats shoulda been. I drove past, and I could hear a baby in the car, cryin'. I looked in the car, and there wasn't no one else in there except a little baby boy, maybe a year old, still strapped into his car seat. The windshield was pretty much gone, glass everywhere. When I looked around I saw what I presume to be the mom and dad, thrown about thirty feet into the field. Their heads was split wide open, so I'm certain they was deader'n shit." He paused, struggling to catch his breath. "I had already found out by this point that these ghouls don't walk once they suffer a bad brain injury, and since I could see some of their brains oozin' outta their skulls, I knew they weren't gettin' up. I took that little baby outta his carseat, and I checked him over real good. Looked under his tee shirt, all on his face and his neck and legs, and I didn't see no sign of cuts or bites. I saw one pupil was huge, but I didn't think much of it."
