Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI

by Vohs, J. W.

  Gracie couldn’t hold back a small smile as she took the key from Maddy. “You and Zach each have to promise to try out the shower at least once before we hit the river.”

  “Fine with me,” Maddy agreed, “but I think Zach will need convincing. He’s like a dog—I think he’d wear poop for perfume, and I’m certain he bolted whenever it was bath time back home.”

  Zach barked convincingly.

  Maddy rolled her eyes. “See?”

  Zach grinned. “Come’ on, Maddy. I’ve got two steaks with our names on them, and I’m starving.” He turned to Luke and reached out to shake his best friend’s hand. “The kitchen is pretty stocked in there, including a couple sirloins.” He pressed a small package into Luke’s palm and winked. “We’ll see you two at dawn.”

  Gracie threw open the door to the camper and squealed in delight. “Luke, you have to see this place!”

  Luke felt a flood of conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to rush in and sweep Gracie off her feet, but another part of him wanted to turn and run.

  Gracie knew her husband; she poked her head out of the door and gently stated, “Just get in here, babe. We’ll be fine.”

  Luke did his best to sound casual as he stepped around Gracie and into the camper. “Of course we will—” He stopped in his tracks when he saw what the community had left for them: a wall of personal letters and thank-you notes, several gift-wrapped presents, a few bottles of wine, and a three-tiered white cake with a plastic bride and groom on top. “Who did all this, and when did they have the time . . .?”

  “I’m sure that Zach and Maddy had a hand in it, but most of these letters seem to be from the settlers here,” Gracie answered, her eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Luke, look at this one.” She held out a child’s drawing with a little purple stick-figure labeled “me” next to some triangles on the bottom of the page, and above that “Mommy” and “Daddy” were floating up in “Hevn.” Right underneath heaven, a smiley-face with sunglasses, and extra-long arms where ears would normally be, reached out protectively over the land below.

  Luke sat down at the small table and rested his head in his hands. Gracie slid in beside him and put her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly until Gracie whispered, “Sometimes the loss is too much, and I feel like the world will never recover from all the suffering and hurt. I try not to think about my parents, my brother—I can go for days without thinking about them.” She sat up and turned Luke’s head to face her. “Do you think my mom could still be alive? Would Israel have been a good place to be when the pandemic broke?”

  Luke didn’t know how to answer. “I wish I knew. I want to say yes, for the security there, and the Israeli spirit, but I don’t think anywhere was a good place when the infection started to spread.”

  Gracie nodded and wiped her eyes. “I know this sounds crazy, but do you think we could go there someday? I mean, do you think it would even be possible?”

  Something tickled in the back of Luke’s brain, and he furrowed his brow.

  Gracie squinted at him. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that some time, some day, I will take my wife to Israel.” He smiled. “And I’m thinking about starting those steaks Zach mentioned while you try out that hot shower.”

  A noise in the distance cut through the pounding in the hunter’s head, and he instinctively turned to sniff the crisp evening air. Hunger pushed aside the confusing thoughts and images that had dominated his mind for an unknown period of time—hours? Days? He’d been paralyzed by memories and growing self-awareness ever since he’d encountered the strange and powerful pack leader near the river, but now all he wanted to think about was Food.

  The lone hunter followed the sound and soon caught the scent of a campfire. He almost howled at the discovery, but stopped himself when he considered the possibility of sharing whatever meal lay ahead. Though massive, he moved quickly and quietly toward his target. The hunter couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and even the smoke rising on the breeze carried the scent of something that made his mouth water.

  Humans. The word popped into his brain. Humans. They had existed in his mind as something basic—Food. The primary, most satisfying of all foods. Now that his mind had started labeling things, he could begin to truly consider the distinctions in the world around him. Humans. Best food.

  The hunter clearly heard the bleating sounds of several humans before he saw them—three large, noisy males around a fire. It occurred to the hunter that humans were usually cawing and moaning at one another—a fortunate habit for prey. Humans could be such easy targets, but they also could be dangerous. Even though almost every fiber of his being was screaming to charge and devour the Food, the hunter froze and considered his options. He decided to wait and watch for a minute to determine his best course of action.

  Gracie emerged from the shower in a white terrycloth robe, with her wet hair slicked back and a big smile on her face. “That was the most luxurious thing I have ever experienced in all of my life,” she declared. “I’ll finish making dinner while you get cleaned up. There’s even a laundry bag for our dirty clothes—we’re supposed to set it outside and somebody will wash our stuff and bring it back.”

  “I hope they’ll bring our clothes back—we can hardly lead the Allied Resistance wearing bathrobes, at least not until it warms up,” Luke joked playfully. He was unexpectedly and immediately distracted by the thought of Gracie without her clothes.

  “Babe, why are you just standing there? Get a move on; I’m starving.”

  Luke grunted a response and started to take a step toward the hall, but he stopped to admire how Gracie’s dark eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. He inhaled slowly and breathed in the scent of his beautiful wife, accented by soap and fresh-smelling shampoo. Even though she was still across the room, he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. He was mesmerized by the sight, smell, and sound of her.

  Gracie locked eyes with her husband, and a warm current of electricity radiated through her. Luke seemed frozen in place, so she walked towards him slowly.

  “Gracie, I . . . I . . .” Luke whispered hoarsely.

  Gracie put her finger up to Luke’s lips. “Shhh. Just listen for a minute. Tonight is perfect; you don’t have to worry. You know I trust your gut feelings without question, but now you need to trust mine. You aren’t going to hurt me; we’re meant to be together. Someday, you and I are going to have a family, but for now, we’ll use that protection Zach gave you.”

  Gracie’s proximity overpowered any remaining objections in Luke’s mind. He decided he had no choice but to trust his wife.

  Sensing that Luke wasn’t offering any argument, Gracie continued, “You are going to go take a shower, I’m gonna figure out a way to keep the food warm, and we’ll meet in the bedroom in ten minutes.” She stood on her tiptoes and pulled him close for a gentle, lingering kiss.

  Luke was intoxicated by Gracie’s sweet breath, and the soft kissing grew more urgent. Gracie pulled away, breathless. “Maybe you should skip the shower . . .”

  “Tempting,” Luke closed his eyes and took a step back as he replied, “but I’ll be too self-conscious about smelling like a barn. We’ll go with your original plan—I’ll meet you in the bedroom in ten minutes.”

  Gracie nodded and herded Luke down the short hall, “Didn’t I already tell you to get a move on?”

  “I thought that’s what I just did,” Luke teased over his shoulder.

  “Actually, I think that’s what I just did, but we can reevaluate in ten minutes,” Gracie said as she gave Luke a little shove through the bathroom doorway.

  The shower felt as luxurious as Gracie had described, but Luke had no desire to linger. He was scrubbed clean and towel dried several minutes ahead of schedule.

  The bedroom was separated from the rest of the camper by a thin curtain that Gracie had partially pulled off to one side. As soon as Luke emerged from the shower, he saw her silhouette through the fabric, and ever
y muscle in his body began to tingle. When Gracie saw him, she smiled, slipped out of the robe, and dropped it ceremoniously on the queen-sized bed. For Luke, the rest of the world ceased to exist for the next few hours.

  “I don’t know why we had to make camp out here; we should’ve just stayed on the houseboat,” the youngest of the three men complained bitterly.

  “Stop whining, Joey, or I’ll send you out alone to gather more wood for the fire.” The stocky man spit, then took a swig from his half-empty bottle of excellent scotch. “I swear you’re the most annoying little bastard I’ve ever met.”

  “Just because I’d rather stay safe on the boat than run around trying to shoot little animals? Hunting is such a hillbilly sport . . .”

  “And just where do you think meat comes from, pretty boy? You certainly are no vegetarian.”

  The young man squirmed. “Maybe not, but you don’t need me out here. I’m no hunter.”

  The large man laughed derisively and grumbled, “And I’m not sure what use you are; Simon, why the hell did I let you talk me into bringing this buffoon with us?”

  The prematurely balding thirty-something looked up from the tattered paperback he was reading at the mention of his name. “What are you two arguing about now?”

  “Josephina here wants to go back to the houseboat,” the older man snapped. “You won’t object if I give him one of our flashlights and send him on his way, right?”

  Simon sighed. “Look, Judge, I know he gets on your nerves, but he does a nice job cooking for us and cleaning up after us, and I’d feel bad if he got lost or eaten or some such thing.”

  “Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Joey interjected.

  “Just stop arguing with the Judge, okay?” Simon stood and stretched. “You’re alive today because he let you come with us—it’s his boat, his supplies, his rules. Got it?”

  “Fine, Simon, but only because you’ve always been good to me. We were a great team when we presented our cases in court—”

  “You didn’t present anything, Joey-boy,” the Judge corrected him. “You were a lowly case manager for the Department of Child Services; you don’t even have a college degree for Christ’s sake.”

  “Simon worked for the same agency,” Joey protested.

  “At least Simon here made it through law school. You just pranced around the courthouse in skinny jeans, trying to act important when you didn’t know your butt from a hole in the ground.”

  “That’s not completely fair,” Simon offered with a smirk, “he really did know his butt from a hole in the ground.”

  The Judge rolled his eyes, “Well, you should know.”

  Flustered by the direction of the conversation, Joey raised his voice, “And I knew enough to get you to sign off on emergency removals from the good neighborhoods. I knew enough to keep myself out of the hood!”

  Simon chuckled. “It really was pretty impressive how all of your cases were middle-class parents who lost their kids at the mall one time, or who forgot to fasten a car seat. My favorite was the professor who fell asleep on his couch and his two-year old wandered down to the neighbors where she was mauled by a Chihuahua. How many stitches did she need?”

  Joey puffed out his chest. “Thirteen. Thirteen stitches and thirteen months of supervised visitation after thirteen weeks of the little girl being in foster care. That guy thought he was too good to need services for his daughter, but I showed him that no-one thinks he’s better than me and gets away with it.” He looked at the Judge. “I made up a bunch of quotes from the neighbor and said that the professor didn’t show any remorse for his daughter’s injury—you granted me an emergency order to put the girl in foster care. It was awesome. Did I ever thank you for that?”

  The Judge reached out and grabbed Joey by the front of his coat. “You do realize that knowingly providing false information to the court is a federal crime, don’t you?”

  Joey shook himself free. “I don’t think that matters anymore, do you?”

  Simon shrugged, “So I guess that proves Joey is smarter than you gave him credit for, Judge—” He paused and held up his hand, “Hey, do you guys hear that?” A low rumbling sound was barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “That sounds like an animal to me.”

  The judge picked up his shotgun. “You idiots need to shut up. I’ll go have a look around.”

  Luke and Gracie lay wrapped around each other in a tangle of sheets and blankets. Gracie nuzzled Luke’s neck. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up quite an appetite. How about I bring us a picnic in bed?”

  Luke’s stomach growled loudly in reply. “Sounds good to me—I’m craving some of that wedding cake, which is weird. I haven’t had much use for sugar lately.”

  Gracie pulled on her robe and kissed Luke on his forehead. “Steak and cake—dinner of champions,” she replied. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab the food and set our laundry outside.”

  True to her word, she soon returned with two dried out steaks, some cold chicken, a bottle of wine, and the top tier of the three-tiered wedding cake. They enthusiastically devoured every bite of the chewy steak and polished off the chicken before Gracie opened the wine and cut two large slices of cake. She poured Luke a glass of wine before filling her own and raising it toward her husband. “To us,” she toasted.

  Luke gently tapped his glass against hers. “To us,” he repeated before taking a long, slow drink. The wine was slightly bitter, but it complemented the sweetness of the cake so he poured himself another.

  “If you’re not careful that wine will go straight to your head,” Gracie warned her husband. She gave Luke a playful nudge. “It’s going to be hard enough to leave this bed in the morning even without a hangover . . .” She set the wine glasses on the floor and started to brush the cake crumbs from the sheets.

  Luke tackled Gracie and pulled her close. “Maybe we can take the day off tomorrow,” he sighed wistfully. They both knew there would be no days off.

  Gracie yawned, turned over, and scooted her back against Luke. “I set the wind-up alarm for six,” she said quietly.

  “I saw some eggs in the cooler; I’ll make us breakfast,” Luke promised. Lying next to Gracie, smelling her hair and holding her close, Luke thought that he had never been so content in all his life. He listened to her soft snoring for a long while before his own eyelids began to grow heavy.

  As he was drifting off to sleep, Luke felt an odd rushing sensation, as if he was being swept away in a fast-moving current. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling; in the back of his mind he was reminded of the downhill drop of a giant roller coaster. He remembered being twelve years old, sitting next to Jerry on the Millennium Force, both of them laughing and shouting at the top of their lungs with their hands waving in the air. Luke tried to hold on to the moment with Jerry, but it faded to blackness as he rushed toward a blurry landscape in the distance.

  An unfamiliar campsite burst into hyper-clarity with an audible pop, and Luke saw three strangers bickering around a fire. He could smell the rabbit they were roasting, and it made his mouth water. Luke realized that he’d started to growl just as the hefty older man picked up a shotgun and headed directly for him.

  Luke wondered if he should try and talk to the man, but something felt very odd about this place. He tried to back away, but he wasn’t able to move. Luke realized that he wasn’t in control of his body; in fact, he wasn’t in his own body at all. The hands he felt resting against the rough bark of the tree in front of him were not his hands. Though he felt his scar vibrating, there was no scar on his hand in this dream. Yes, a dream. I’m dreaming, Luke thought with a small sense of relief. The man with the gun walked by within a few feet of him, and Luke concentrated on willing his new body to remain perfectly still. He was congratulating himself on his success when he felt his massive frame silently lunge forward, directly at the two men by the fire. He saw their startled faces, and he felt his jaws sink into the neck of the balding man.
As he tasted the fresh blood, his mind screamed, NOOOOOOO! He woke with a start and almost jumped out of the bed.

  “Babe, what’s wrong?” Gracie could feel Luke trembling next to her. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  Luke could still taste the blood in his mouth when he answered shakily, “Yeah, I guess that’s what it was.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t really remember,” Luke lied, not wanting to speak of it, “but I think I’ll avoid wine at bedtime from now on.” He kissed the top of Gracie’s head. “Now that I’m up, I think I’ll make myself a midnight snack. Do you want anything?” He wanted desperately to wash away the flavor lingering on the back of his tongue.

  “Not from the kitchen,” Gracie answered as she rubbed Luke’s tight shoulders, “but ask me again when you get back.”

  In the kitchen, Luke washed down the rest of the chicken with two large bottles of water. Then he returned to the bedroom and lost himself in Gracie’s arms. By dawn’s first light, Luke felt comforted and restored, the horrible dream a distant and fading memory.

  Boot camp began in earnest in the morning. Luke was willing to spend one week at this settlement, training and teaching, before resuming the trek west with a goal of reaching Texarkana by Christmas. The troops started with the basics. Those who’d joined the Allied Resistance Army at the oxbow community were able to pair off with the newbies and offer one-on-one instruction in the basic use of weapons. Spears came first on the list of killing implements for the type of force Luke wanted, and in reality, most people with a pulse could be taught how to wield the simple tools in just a few minutes. The difficult aspect of spear-fighting was learning how to use them in a phalanx-type of formation without killing anyone on your own side.

  The first two ranks were usually not the ones involved in friendly-spearing accidents; those wounds were invariably caused by inexperienced third and fourth-rank troops. The pictures in Luke’s books on medieval combat often showed phalanxes, or squares, of infantry presenting a “hedgehog” deployment of spears in every direction. The practice looked simple, but it was actually dependent on a high level of discipline from the soldiers involved.