The Feral Children | Book 3 | Nomads

by Simpson, David A.

  Diablo dragged the dog through the other end of the culvert into the grass, away from the others. He thrust his maw into the soft belly and devoured the choicest organs. He ripped flesh from the neck, shoulders and haunches and lapped up the blood that pooled beneath the carcass. He cracked bones and devoured marrow until he was sated. He’d seen the other animals, particularly the dogs that had once been pets of the humans rolling in dead things. It messed with their own scents and attracted stinging insects, but they still did it anyway. He lowered himself into the gore and intestines spread out over the ground and rolled. Waste and blood worked their way into his fur. He continued to roll until his fur was matted with the remains of his opponent.

  He cocked his head and listened to the Savage Ones still feasting on the road above. Without a backward glance he turned and headed into the wood line. Let them follow if they could. He wouldn’t mark territory until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He sensed it was past time for him to leave if he didn’t want to feed the others. His instincts told him he wouldn’t survive too many more challengers and his genetic coding went from fight to flight. That was the way of the hyena, guile and cunning.

  He ran at a painful pace. He ignored the hurts and aches of his body. He stopped to lap up water from a narrow stream then relieved himself in its flow. His deformed tongue caused more water to spill out than went down his gullet. He followed the stream and snapped his jaws at the silvery fish that seemed to glow in the moonlight as they darted through the shallows. Even full, he never missed an opportunity to gorge himself. He emerged on the opposite bank then ran through the night. The woods were thick enough to hide him from the birds. His scent was confused enough to not be followed.

  His instincts told him he was free of the pack. Free to pursue the wolf girl with all his wiles and cunning. Done with the fighting to remain the apex predator among the wild dogs, coyotes, and the strange assortment of animals that followed for his scraps. The pack of animals he left behind faded from his memory. A new alpha would take over and the Savage Ones would continue their hunts.

  4

  Kassie

  Gallatin, Missouri

  Kassie and her little dog Coffee walked across the smooth tops of the storage containers that made up the wall. Stacked end to end and three high, they surrounded the small town of Gallatin, Missouri. Machine gun emplacements were mounted at intervals and bored sheriff’s deputies manned their stations, smoking or dozing to pass the time. Not much happened here. Gallatin was off the main roads and had a population of less than 2000 before the apocalypse. Its remoteness and the railroad tracks that ran through it made for an ideal settlement. It had a good water source and was far enough away from the big cities that they weren’t too concerned about massive hordes. Goods could be shipped in and out by the rail cars or semi-trucks. The huge stockyards west of the walls and the unlimited grazing opportunities allowed the town to secure its place in the new nation as a livestock provider. They raised cattle, hogs, and sheep and even had a herd of buffalo that was growing quickly. Currently it was home to three hundred and thirty-four permanent residents and a few dozen others at any given time. A steady stream of retrievers and Hell Drivers used it as a rest and resupply point between their missions into the badlands.

  Kassie plopped down on the edge of the container and dangled her legs over the side, some twenty-five feet above the ground. She sipped on her hot chocolate and watched as the sky turned colors with the sunrise. It had become her morning ritual. Hot cocoa, a beautiful sunrise then three laps around the town on top of the wall. Coffee sat beside her and begged for attention. He was a scrappy little guy of undetermined origin, but she loved him regardless of his lack of pedigree. Ear buds in, she bobbed her head to the music coming from her cell phone. She wondered where the artist was now. Holed up like her, or wandering among the hordes of zombies that filled the big cities. Other than the pictures of her life before the fall, her phone wasn’t much good for anything else. None of the games she’d had on it still worked, they all needed the internet. She had a large assortment of music though. One of her friends had been gathering all the songs he could find and putting them on some computers in the rec room. Anyone was free to download whatever they wanted and the retrievers were always bringing in more when they found them. Still, she held out hope that one day she’d look down and see the little service bars that indicated a cell signal. There was a rumor that someplace called the Tower still had phones and soon the settlements would too. She couldn’t wait for that day.

  She had no idea what happened to her friends and family when the outbreak hit but she liked to think that everyone in her contact list was still out there. She hoped that all of her Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram pals were safe and secure, riding out the apocalypse in comfort. Deep down she knew that probably wasn’t true but she said prayers for them anyway.

  She and her mom had been one of the lucky ones that escaped the ravenous hordes. They’d been on a two week vacation, half of it primitive and the second half pampered. The first week they camped and hiked the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. The second week was supposed to be boutique bed and breakfasts and some really neat Airbnb homes. When the news erupted with stories of crazed people attacking each other in the streets and the big cities burning, she couldn’t believe it. Her mom’s first thought was that they might have to cut their vacation a little short because she would surely be needed back at the hospital if it was that bad all over.

  The first half of the trip was over and they were both looking forward to a real bed, a hot shower and the swimming pool. They had just gotten back on the main road when Kassie started playing with the radio to see what kind of music the locals listened to. Instead they heard near hysterical broadcasters telling stories of the dead people climbing to their feet and chasing down other people. Looting and rioting were sweeping through the big cities. New York and Chicago were burning, and the firemen couldn’t even respond without being attacked. Bridges were being blown up to stop the tide of undead but they were everywhere. The response was too little, too late. Every town, every city in the country was under siege by the mindless undead. At first they both scoffed at the stories, zombies weren’t real but the fear and barely controlled panic in the newscasters’ voices certainly was.

  They had pulled over at a little all in one gas station, restaurant and souvenir shop, still not sure if it was some elaborate prank. While she was walking the dog, her mom went inside but ran back out, told her to get in the car and lock the doors. She was pale and shaking and snapped at her to be quiet when she’d asked what was wrong. She kept dialing 911 and getting a busy signal. She’d hang up and try again, over and over then started calling other numbers. She didn’t get an answer from anyone. She’d never seen her mom afraid before and it scared her. They sat for a long time trying to call people and listening to the radio with the windows up and the doors locked. What frightened them more than anything was when one after another the stations quit transmitting or the emergency broadcast signal came on with the same message being repeated over and over. Her mom became calm after a time, considered all of their options and came to a decision.

  “Kassie, Honey, we can’t go home. It’s not safe. What they are saying is true and it’s not just in the cities, it happened here, too.”

  She didn’t mention the woman she saw in the bathroom that had lunged at her with snapping teeth and blackened eyes. Her throat had been completely torn out but she was still moving. Still trying to kill. Linda was an ER nurse, had been for nearly a decade, and she knew the thing was dead. There was no other explanation. No other way. In the second she saw her, she’d seen her jugular vein dangling down the front of her blouse. It was large and unmistakable and it wasn’t pumping blood. The woman was dead and had been for hours. The blood coating her was already dry and flaking off.

  As they talked, they saw a man walking down the road towards them. At first they thought he was drunk, his clothes were torn and he was weav
ing all over. He snapped his head around when Coffee started growling and barking and zeroed in on them. He screamed and started running right at them and her mom fumbled starting the car. Coffee went crazy as the man slammed into the window and tried to bite through it, his mangled face leaving bloody streaks on the glass. Kassie screamed, Coffee went into an attack frenzy and when the Escape finally started, she floored it. The man tried to hang on, tore the plastic wind deflector off and fell under the spinning back tire. They both screamed as the SUV rocked over him and shot out of the parking lot. Her mom floored it but then just as quickly hit the brakes. Kassie and Coffee slammed into the dash and both of them yelped. Her mom took a few long and deep breaths then very calmly said that’s why you should always wear your seatbelt.

  It was ridiculous. The radio said the world was falling apart, something in the store had scared her mom half to death, a crazy man had just attacked them and they had run over him and now her mom was scolding her about her seatbelt. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry or laugh. Coffee licked at the tears on her cheeks and she laughed. She had to or she’d go mad.

  “Your hair is messed up.” She told her mom.

  Linda’s ponytail was askew, somehow it wasn’t in the back anymore, and it was on the side of her head.

  Her mom started laughing too and it took a while for them to stop.

  They man they had run over was still coming, crawling along the asphalt on broken legs. He was still keening and growling, still trying to get them.

  “It really is zombies?” Kassie asked as they turned in their seats and watched his slow progress.

  It took a minute for her mom to answer but she agreed when she finally did.

  “Honey, things are different now. We’re going to have to take care of ourselves, I don’t think there are any more towns or army or police at the moment. I think we’re on our own for a while until they get things sorted out. It might be a while before they get everything under control again. I think we need to go to a place without any other people around until things settle down. I think those creatures are everywhere. We might have to do things that were unthinkable a few hours ago. Are you okay with that?”

  Kassie nodded; her eyes wide.

  “I’m not going to sugar coat it, we might have to do things we don’t want to do but if we’re going to make it through this, they’re going to have to get done. We can’t half way commit, this is life and death. We have to be in all the way. You understand?”

  Kassie nodded again. “All the way.” She said.

  Her mom put the car in reverse, aimed for thing in the road and exploded its head in mid scream when the rear bumper slammed into it. They stopped at the gas pumps and she took her pistol case out of the console. Kassie grabbed the ammo out of the glove box and started loading the magazine as her mom rummaged around the back seat for the holster, the one she’d carried the days they’d been in the woods.

  They left Coffee in the car, slipped inside quietly and went straight to the restrooms. They could hear one of them shuffling around. Someone had turned into one of those things while inside and couldn’t get out, the door had to be pulled to open. Linda had come face to face with it when she’d first entered the store and thought someone was in need of help when she heard it. She was lucky the door didn’t open the other way or she’d be dead, reanimated and would have been trapped inside just waiting for her daughter to come looking for her. Together they moved a couple of tables from the café over to stack in front of the door in case the thing inside managed to somehow bounce it open.

  “We need to take as much as we can carry.” Linda said. “We’re heading back into the park, I think we can stay in one of those ranger cabins, maybe the one that was miles from anywhere.”

  The place was deserted, food still on the tables, the grill still on with bacon and sausage burnt beyond recognition. There was blood on the counter and more bloody handprints on the door. A display of kachina dolls, pottery and genuine Indian jewelry had been knocked over and broken shards littered the floor. The thing in the bathroom pounded and screamed incessantly and they were both rattled, in a hurry and more than a little frightened. Everything was happening so fast. They grabbed armloads of food from the shelves and filled the backseat with canned goods and other gear. She topped off the gas, filled every extra can the store had and tied them to the roof. They rushed, nearly running back and forth and always watching for anymore of the undead to come running down the road.

  The Escape wasn’t set up for serious off roading, it wasn’t a Jeep or a Land Rover but it had four-wheel drive and the tires were all terrain. It would make it up the fire roads and maintenance trails just fine.

  Linda had made the tough decision that there was nothing they could do for their loved ones back home and if they tried to get back to Louisville they would most likely die on the way. She turned the SUV back into Badlands National Park and headed for the most remote part she could find. The roads were rutted and washed out in places, branches and scrub brush added a lot of new scratches to the paint but the Escape took them deep into the park, to the little ranger station they’d hiked past days before.

  As they made their way through the bumpy, twisted trails, her mom told her they would be ok. They were far away from the danger. They had their camping and fishing gear, she had her pistol and knew how to use it and they had enough supplies to last for a while. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe a few months, things would settle down. The government or the army or somebody would start to fix everything. They just had to ride things out for a while. Kassie was excited and terrified all at once.

  They followed the trails through the canyons and hills until they found the little cabin standing in the middle of a meadow. It was small with a couple of cots, a stretcher, other basic medical supplies and a wood stove. There was no electricity, running water or two-way radio. It was primitive and didn’t see much use but the builders had added an outhouse some thirty yards away near the tree line. It had been a few years since someone had broken an ankle and had to be carried to a clearing so the helicopter could get them. It was dusty and had a stale smell. It wasn’t much to look at it but the roof didn’t leak and the floors were solid. The door was thick and heavy and the latch was strong. The small windows had heavy shutters. Nothing would be getting inside, not even a large bear.

  It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for the two of them. It was warm and dry, far from civilization and only a short walk from a stream. They unpacked the car and mourned the loss of the world as one by one the radio stations went off the air. By the third day, there was only static when they scanned the dial.

  “We’re going to have to winter here,” Her mom said as they sat in the Ford. “We need to go back to the store, clean it out, and get anything and everything we might need.”

  They stripped the SUV bare, pulled out the back seats went down to the all in one Black Hills country cafe, fuel stop and last chance souvenir shop. It was the same as they’d left if except the electricity was off, they couldn’t top off the gas cans. Someone had been there, another survivor. The beer cooler looked a lot emptier than she remembered and the cigarette rack behind the counter had been stripped bare of everything except the menthols. Linda backed up to the front door and they worked fast, the thing in the bathroom was still trying to get out and whoever took the beer might come back for the rest of it. They weren’t in a panic this time though and took the time to pack the truck tightly. They took all the big cans from the restaurant, the sack of potatoes and onions and every ounce of coffee. They grabbed all of the Navajo blankets to line the walls and floor of the cabin. It wasn’t insulated and winter would be cold. They cleaned the store shelves of anything edible, which was mostly junk food, and everything else they could cram into the nooks and crannies of the Escape. They grabbed tourists’ T-shirts, cheap Indian moccasins made in china, all of the cigarette lighters and packets of aspirin. She found a toolbox in the office and it was tossed in too, along with the assort
ment of fishing hooks, lures and line. Kassie found a shotgun leaning behind the office door but they didn’t find any extra shells, only the four that were in it. The overloaded truck groaned its way back up trail and almost as an afterthought, they broke off some branches and swept away their tracks when they turned onto the dirt road. The missing beer bothered Linda. There could be some unpleasant men lurking out there staying drunk and doing whatever they wanted. With no law and lots of alcohol she was worried what a group of men might do if they discovered two women on their own. She knew what people could do to each other. She’d seen some ugly things and heard uglier stories during her decade of working the emergency room.