Awakened Desires

by Rissa Blakeley

  Quinn walked back into the living room where Carrie and Max was minutes before. They weren’t there. She ran around their home, yelling for her. Nothing. Grabbing the shovel that was next to the front door, she dashed outside.

  Carrie was across the street trying to fight off one of their neighbors, pulling Max from his hands. The next thing Quinn witnessed would be forever burned into her mind. The neighbor bit Carrie’s arm as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

  “No!” Quinn screamed. Carrie was clutching onto Max. “No!” Quinn ran across the way and hit the neighbor with the shovel as if she was wielding a baseball bat. Then she jammed the shovel right through his head. Quinn dropped it and fell to the ground. She grabbed Carrie’s face.

  “Mom…Max…” She struggled to speak.

  “What, baby. Talk to me. You are going to be all right.”

  “Mom…Max…” Carrie’s eyes flickered and her face began to lose what life was left in it.

  “No, baby girl. No, don’t you die on me. You cannot leave me!” Just as she yelled, Carrie exhaled for the last time and passed away. Quinn clutched her and Max, holding both of them into her chest, and rocked their lifeless bodies. She cried her heart out.

  Her only child was gone.

  Minutes passed. Suddenly, she felt Carrie twitching, and she pulled away. When Carrie’s eyes opened, the putrid gray had overtaken her once beautiful brown, doe-like eyes.

  “No!” she screamed and scurried to a standing position. Carrie slowly stood and snapped her jaw at Quinn. “Carrie…please. Carrie, it’s Mommy.” Quinn backed up several feet when Carrie let go of Max. He went tumbling to the ground. He didn’t cry, nor did he move.

  “Max!” Quinn yelled as Carrie lunged at her. She grabbed the shovel again. “God, no. I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this!” But she didn’t want to watch Carrie wandering aimlessly or attacking others. Deciding to lure her to the backyard, Quinn continued to walk backwards toward their house, Carrie following—staggering and snapping her jaw.

  “Come on, baby girl,” she cried. “Mommy is going to help you.” Carrie continued to stagger toward the very back part of their yard. “Please forgive me for what I’m about to do. I love you more than anything,” she whispered.

  When Quinn was within striking distance, she closed her eyes then swung the shovel with all of her might. As it connected, her anguish and agony-filled screams traveled through the air.

  It was so real in her mind that when Quinn saw herself hit Carrie with the shovel, she fell to her knees on the thread-bare rug in the living room. But then, like torture, the movie continued to play.

  She opened her eyes to see Carrie on the ground, part of her skull smashed in. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry…,” she sobbed as she looked at Carrie’s lifeless body.

  Shovel in hand, Quinn ran back across the street to Max. He was lying on the ground, still and quiet. She screamed until her throat burned seeing that Max’s body was covered in blood. Unsure if it was his own or Carrie’s, she pulled at his blanket and found the bite wound on his abdomen.

  Quinn screamed for help, but there was no one around. Max’s graying body began twitching much like Carrie’s had. His gray face and lips began moving. She held him at a distance from herself and ran back to the backyard where Carrie laid dead.

  She wasn’t sure how to take care of Max. In her eyes, what she did to Carrie was unforgivable. How was she going to live with herself having to do the same to Max?

  Quinn laid Max, who was now violently thrashing around while snarling and growling, on the ground. She dragged Carrie to the wooded area just past their property line. Picking up piles of natural debris that were around, she covered Carrie up. Quinn walked back to where she had left Max.

  “Oh, Max…I’m so sorry, baby boy,” she spoke through her tears. She picked him up, his back facing her, and held him straight out, walking back to where she left Carrie. As she laid him down next to his mother, he flailed around, trying to bite her.

  There was no humane way of doing what she was about to do. She pulled a couple evergreen branches off the trees and covered Max with them. Once again, she picked up the shovel.

  -November 2014-

  As the movie played out in her mind, Quinn saw herself raise the shovel above her head, vomit raced up her esophagus, making her snap back to reality. She burst out through the front door and leaned over the ailing porch rail, vomiting. When the last heave subsided, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and headed back inside, locking the door behind her.

  Her body shook all over. She decided to go lay down and cry her eyes out. It was the only way she could deal with it. She hoped that she could settle herself down before Gunther came back through the door.

  If he came back through the door.

  Crossing the grassy field to get away from the farm he grew up on, Gage paused to throw up. Emotionally, he was dead. After the retching finally ended, he stood and raised his face so the morning sun could hit it. Maybe that would warm the chill that radiated from his soul.

  Stretching, his spine cracked as he extended his interlaced hands high into the air. The restless sleep in the barn the night prior didn’t do wonders for his nineteen-year-old, already overused back.

  Gage was a tough farm boy with a side of psycho mixed in. His muscles were taut and large from pushing cattle around and working the land. From all the sun exposure, his skin was golden brown, and his tousled brown hair had natural copper highlights.

  And his face? Cold and hard like marble.

  After years of abuse at the hands of his father, he learned to shut everything out. But the last circumstance made him die completely on the inside, leaving him empty and hollow.

  Once the outbreak hit their area, he murdered his bastard father. It felt good to rid his older sister, Shawnie, and himself of the horror that they lived with day in and day out. He figured if things ever righted themselves in the world, he wouldn’t get blamed for a suicide set-up.

  Shawnie was his rock growing up, raising and protecting him as best she could. She was five and Gage was three when their mother passed away after years of being sick with cancer. With their mother gone, they lived in fear of their father’s anger, rages, and abuse.

  On several occasions, Shawnie had stepped in between Gage and their father when they were about to come to blows. Later on, Gage understood that she was protecting herself, as well. She didn’t want her brother to go to jail, which would leave her alone with the sick bastard.

  Living a life enduring sexual abuse, left Gage stone-faced. So cold. No life. Zero emotions. But he refused to tell Shawnie about what the bastard did to him. He didn’t want to burden her with it. Swallowing all of his emotions, he did what he was told to do, with some hope that if he obeyed, he would be spared from at least one session.

  Gage was also blessed with the bastard’s unique, angry rages. Control was what he craved. He had no control over his life with his father around. Gage struggled in school and his father told him to drop out so he could help with the farm even more than he already was. Then he instructed Shawnie to do the same, but he had ulterior motives for her.

  Dropping to his knees in the field that he was standing in, Gage was still reeling over the memory of walking in on their father raping his sister when he was sixteen. He wished he had the balls to murder him then. He wanted to. It would have been completely justified.

  Gage looked toward the sky again. “I’m so sorry, Shawnie. I shoulda killed him then.” A shudder ran through his body and tears ran down his dirty, tanned face. He grabbed onto his tousled locks and rocked forward, trying to calm himself.

  Minutes prior to him leaving the farm, Gage had put a bullet in his sister’s head. An undead bit her the night before. While drifting in and out of sleep, he spent the night contemplating, worrying and completely overwhelmed by his emotions. There were moments he didn’t think he would ever stop crying. Then the moments of rage and moments of feeli
ng alone hit him hard.

  Without Shawnie, he felt hopeless. It was the hardest decision he had ever made, but it was the right one for his sister. Gage couldn’t bear to watch her roam about the land like a lost, dead soul. He killed the undead, and the last bullet that he had left was saved for his beloved sister.

  He stood and shook the thoughts out of his mind. Blankness was what he wished for. If he had one more bullet left in his gun, it would’ve had his name on it, giving him the harmony that he needed. From that point on, he decided he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone ever again. He was his own man.

  He was free.

  The black SUV that was slowly rumbling down the dusty, gravel road dragged him from his thoughts. Off in the distance, he saw an elderly man walking along the edge of the road. Gage believed it was Mr. Reynolds from down the road, about three miles away. The SUV pulled up so that he couldn’t see the man anymore.

  Gage stood and watched a rather tall, body builder-type hop out of the truck. He decided that he was going to check out the situation. He grabbed his small backpack, holding only a few articles of clothing, off the ground and lumbered in that direction.

  I was trolling into the rural parts, looking for my next fix. I really should have talked to Quinn about my issue, but she would’ve probably ran away or shot me. I didn’t anticipate finding a fix would be so bloody difficult. Every time I found someone to drain, I could go about a week without another fix, but by the end of the week, my body was more than ready. I was in dire need of a steady source.

  Just as I was thinking about my predicament, I spotted an elderly man hobbling along the edge of the road. A slight tinge of guilt ran through me, but it was me or the old man. At this point, it was all about survival of the fittest, every man for himself. Plus, I needed to get back to Quinn. I didn’t want her to be alone for too long.

  Slowing to a stop next to the man, I hopped out of my truck. “Sir, are you all right?” Not for long.

  He turned around, a confused look on his face. “I can’t find my house.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and looked around. “Do you know what road you’re on?”

  “No. I was supposed to meet my wife and boy for supper. I was out milking, but I’ve lost my house.”

  I was pretty sure it was dementia because there wasn’t a “moo” in the air anywhere around there. “Well, I can help you, sir.” I walked up to him.

  “Charlie?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Is that you?”

  “No. My name is Gunther.” Definitely lost his marbles, unless Charlie was a giant Brit. Time to put him out of his misery.

  I grabbed his arm and yanked him close to me. He yelled and I cupped my hand around his mouth. As he struggled as much as a frail elderly man could, I held him tight to my body. I pulled out my knife and jammed it into his carotid, watching the lovely saltiness pour from the wound. I latched on and felt him fade in my arms, drawing out as much as I could. He fell to the ground and I about went with him.

  “Fffuuck…” I shook my head.

  The world was spinning around me. I stumbled backwards, trying to make it stop. I fell into the side of my truck, reeling. I was panting and trying to focus, unsuccessfully. My thoughts were echoing in my head. It was a huge high for me, and from such a little man.

  A man? I looked around and saw an elderly man twitching on the side of the road. I looked around as a massive flood of paranoia crashed over me. Every pair of eyes left in the world were peering at me. I looked back down at the man, then walked back to him, stumbling over my own boots.

  He was dead. I had killed again.

  Fuck me. I was a serial killer. I pressed my carnage-ridden palms into my eyes. Just cause…just cause. I needed to take his life or I would become undead.

  Wait. Was I already undead? My hands shook as I examined them, turning them over several times. They looked like they should, not gray or rotting. All the skin and digits were there. I needed to tighten up or I would’ve gone off the deep end.

  A glimmer of light near my feet caught my attention. My knife. My knees gave out while reaching for it, putting me down next to the old man. Once I managed to curl my fingers around the heavy handle, I jammed the knife into his skull. I struggled to a standing position and held onto my truck while walking around it. Crawling into the driver’s seat, I sat there for a while, waiting for the high to subside.

  Slowly, I started to get back to normal…whatever that was. I hated the paranoid shit. It didn’t happen all too often, but when it did, it made me batshit crazy. Once the nervous tic exhausted itself, I got back out of the truck and rolled the man into the ditch.

  Footsteps approached from behind, causing me to spin, gun in hand. “Was he one of those walking dead people things?” he asked as he peered over into the ditch.

  “Uh…yeah. I took care of him, though. Poor sap. Bloody awful to see.” I tucked my gun away. He was a young, strong lad, and might be useful. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Gunther.” He looked me over. I had the feeling he had trust issues. Can’t say as I blame him in the slightest.

  “I was out lookin’ for somethin’ to eat. I ran outta food.”

  “Do you have a family? Or anyone with you?”

  “Do you?”

  “I might.” The lad was infuriating me. “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Do you?”

  I shook my head at his insufferable attitude. “Why the attitude?”

  “I don’t know you,” he muttered.

  “All right. I don’t have time for this banter,” I said as I headed for the truck.

  “Gage. No family. I killed ’em all.”

  I stopped and looked back at him. “I have a woman with me back where I’m staying. If you can keep your dirty mitts to yourself, you can stay with us for a bit.”

  “I can.”

  I statured up to him. “I swear, if you harm a single hair on her head…”

  Gage interrupted, “I would never harm a woman.” He left it at that and I nodded.

  “Get in.” I hopped in and put my pack in the back seat. “You from around here?” He nodded as he sat down in the passenger seat, dropping his pack onto the floor. “Are there any more houses still standing down this way?”

  “Yeah, a couple.”

  “Let’s go see if we can find some supplies.” Gage nodded again.

  As I drove off, I kept feeling his eyes burning into my body. I wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to figure out, but he had already rubbed me the wrong way.

  We rolled up to another typical farmhouse about a half-mile down from where I picked up Mr. Personality. “I’ll check the barn for anything useful.” Gage jumped out and went right to the barn. I pursed my lips, knowing that he wasn’t going to take direction well. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Maybe I should have left him standing in the road.

  I headed to the house and peered through the windows. As far as I could tell, it was empty of anything, living or not. The door was unlocked, as if they were inviting me in. Not that I couldn’t open it even if it was locked. I cleared the house and walked into the kitchen.

  The cabinets were loaded with items that we could use. Everything from unopened boxes of cereal to tins of fruits and vegetables, which all came as a surprise to me. I thought that whoever lived there would have taken the basic essentials…unless they were undead somewhere.

  I opened a couple other cabinets, looking around for a box or a bag of some sort. I found a bunch of reusable shopping bags folded together.

  I spent the following ten minutes loading up everything that would be useful. Then I hit up a closet that was in the hall across from the bathroom. “Score,” I mumbled to myself. It was loaded with a ton of personal hygiene products. I even grabbed all the female products because I was a thoughtful bloke. Chalk one up for me. I yanked out the blankets and there were even extra pillows.

  “You ’n here?!�
� Gage called from the front of the house.

  “Yeah. Anything in the barn?”

  “Nah. Jus’ hay, dry feed, stuff like that.” He found me in the hallway.

  “Start looking through the bedrooms for anything we can use.”

  “Aye, aye, cap’n.” He rumbled off into a bedroom and he started going through the dresser drawers. I did the same.

  The bedroom I chose had to be the master. I opened the closet door. All the men’s clothing was too small for me or Gage. The women’s clothes seemed like they could fit Quinn. I grabbed the essentials: bottoms, tops, jackets.

  When I opened the drawers to the dresser, my fingers flitted across a pair of lacy underthings. I picked them up, dangling them from my fingertips.

  “You jackin’ off to that shit, or you packin’ it?” My eyes narrowed as I glanced over at the doorway. Gage was leaning on the frame. Fucker had better watch his tongue, or I would cut it out.

  He had his arms full of linens and who knows what else. “I was wondering if they would fit Quinn.”

  “That’s the woman?”

  “Yeah.” I wasn’t sure so I threw them back in the drawer. The next drawer was full of socks. I grabbed several pairs. After plucking the pillows and blankets off the bed, I said, “Why don’t you start taking this stuff out to the truck…if you don’t mind.” I folded up the clothes and blankets and stuffed another shopping bag full.

  After dropping the bags by the front door, I checked out the office that was just off the living room. There was a wall of books. Scanning through them, I picked out a bunch old biographies and non-fiction for me.

  There was nothing better than a factual book. Since I didn’t have a formal education, it was the only way I learned anything. Never set foot in a true classroom…ever. I was lucky they taught me how to read and write. All other skills were learned by watching or doing.

  Then I started to think about what Quinn might like. Most woman like those romance books—sexy, big cocked millionaires who drove fast and fucked hard. Sounded oddly familiar. There were a bunch of those kinds of books. Plus, there were a few with vampires and werewolves lingering on the shelves. I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t I the nice bloke? Most definitely.