Red Paint: Proceed with Caution

by Yesenia Stall

  Moments later came the heavenly sound of an explosion followed by wailing car alarms roughly two streets over. The Altered which had been shuffling towards the Church now comically turned as one. Like toddlers chasing bubbles, they all waddled towards the screeching flames.

  “Okay. Now we run.” Grabbing the backpack he’d found and filled during his scavenging, Marek rushed down the stairs to where he’d already removed one of the wooden boards nailed to a low window. His trusty crowbar easily broke through the glass, his work muffled by the distant noise. With only a few stragglers on the street, Marek eased through the pane. He turned back long enough to reach in for the dog and pull it out by its scruff. Sensing the necessity for silence, the dog trotted behind Marek. New question now: where to?

  The county road was his best bet out of town, but he didn’t think he would get very far on the open road. He’d be like a bright flare across the night sky for any Altered heading to the explosion. Maybe he should have thought ahead a little better. What he needed was a car.

  You would think in a dead world, cars would be found left and right. After all, who would be left around to use them? But most vehicles left in small towns were left there because of accidents. Many drivers had been run off the roads by hordes – Mommy mobiles twisted around poles, sports cars smashed into buildings. Anything usable was left out on the highway. Highways were death traps for anyone stupid enough to get near. He prayed his own two feet would be enough.

  Marek had no time to hesitate. He could not risk waiting for the streets to clear more than they had. Who knew what side of town had more Altered? For all he knew, more were approaching than leaving his area. He really should have thought of that earlier. With his crowbar in hand, Marek took off down the street, hoping the dog stayed close.

  He dispensed two Altered along his way, the canine slunk past a third. God! They were everywhere! Marek was covered in remains before he’d made it two blocks and the county road was yet another block away. His crowbar became lodged in the eye socket of a male Altered as more Shufflers came his way from who-knew where. Marek was being swarmed, and quickly.

  Taloned hands griped him from behind. Marek slipped out from the backpack’s shoulder straps seconds before rotting teeth snapped where his ear had been. He tripped over the body he’d just put down, the new Altered dropping his backpack as it continued to lunge for him. Three Shufflers approached from the opposite side. Marek could see the Church between the gaps in their closing rank. He might stand a chance if he could make it back inside.

  Before he could do so much as blink, the first Altered grabbed hold and managed to knock him onto the ground. His fleshless fingers laced with Marek’s in a horrific struggle for survival.

  Not like this. Not like this!

  The Altered’s mouth came too close to his neck. Suddenly, its teeth pulled back a hairsbreadth from his Adam’s apple as it was yanked away. Marek heard the tearing of cloth. He had enough time to see the dog dragging the crazed Altered away before screeching tires caught his attention.

  A blood and dirt stained minivan slammed into the three oncoming Altered. Two went flying off to the side, one of them effectively staying down. The second looked at its missing legs before pathetically reaching towards Marek as if he would offer himself up as its last meal. The third flew onto Marek, its head bashing past his shoulder onto the concrete. It might be dead, but the damn thing now had him well pinned as more Altered converged. As he worked to shove the immobile body off him, another set of feet reached his side; shit!

  The Altered’s body was hauled off and Marek stared up at a blond guy reaching down to him. A growl sounded near Marek’s ear as the dog came to crouch beside him, warning the guy off.

  “Flecth! Let’s go!”

  A girl with darker blonde hair placed her foot atop the remains of an Altered as she removed a shovel protruding from its head. Without hesitating, she swung her weapon around, dispatching another Shuffler that had wandered too close. For the first time ever, Marek felt sorry for the Altered.

  “You can get in the car or you can stay here,” the guy said to him. “Whatever you decide, do so quickly. We have to go!”

  Marek might have stayed there all day just to watch the girl move. He never thought killing the Altered could look so majestic. She was quickly doused in blood and guts, never once flinching as the carnage piled up around her. Her movements were so fluid, so natural, as if she had been born for just this reason. The guy moved away from Marek then, rushing to the girl’s side to help with the growing swarm.

  Snapping out of his fixation, Marek scrambled for his backpack and crowbar. He pulled the weapon from the fallen Altered only to have to swing at another. “I can’t leave the dog.” He shouted to the stranger.

  “We have a kid in the back. If it bites, I throw it out.”

  Marek nodded his understanding. He guided the dog into the back of the van, hoping the animal would behave, before returning to help the duo. With a few more Altered cleared from their path, the girl ran into the van first. She hopped into the passenger seat, her partner raced to the driver’s side, Marek scampered into the back. Tires screeching, they took off down the county road.

  Marek looked to his right as a child’s laughter reached his ears. Biting within the car no longer seemed an issue. The dog’s tail swished eagerly from side to side as it happily licked the boy’s face.

  “Nice dog.” The girl called from the front. She wasn’t even panting as she wiped away the blood caked hair from her face. They drove on as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. Well, perhaps after months of this lifestyle, everything that had just transpired was ordinary. “I’m Shelly.” She continued. “This is Fletcher. That’s Blake. And that’s Ambrose.”

  Marek shifted to look on the other side of the boy. He hadn’t noticed the second girl, too focused on the boy and the blonde… Shelly. Now his eyes bugged as he recognized the dark hair and green shirt of the other passenger.

  “Well holy shit.” He chuckled.

  Chapter Nine

  Meals on Wheels

  “How ‘bout… Porkchop?”

  “Porkchop?” Fletcher laughed.

  Ambrose caught his eye in the rearview mirror. She gave him a tired smile. His eyes shifted from hers, to the road, to Blake. The boy had been tossing around possible names for the dog over the past two hours. Marek, the new guy, had not named the pooch since meeting it last night. After a quick inspection, they found the dog to be a female.

  Another revelation in the past two hours: Marek had saved her life – kind of. He quickly told the story of spotting her at the bookstore and working to get the Eaters away from her area. It had been his movements that had brought on the horde. She might have gotten angry at his stupidity if it weren’t for his Molotovs.

  His explosion had distracted the Eaters long enough for Fletcher to jumpstart a car while Shelly took down any lingerers. Instead of taking off right away, Fletcher had returned for her and helped her hobble down the stairs. It seemed everyone just kept saving her sorry ass at great risk to themselves.

  The sky was starting to change color. Rose-gold shot between clouds as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. They couldn’t continue on the road much longer. Fletcher’s thoughts seemed to be on the same wavelength. Ambrose found it comical as he flicked on his blinker. It’s not as if there were very many cars out on the lonely road. Even if someone did pass them by, who was left to enforce the law?

  Fletcher rolled down a barely visible path. Ambrose could see nothing but trees lining either side.

  “How ‘bout… Timon?” Blake piped up in the silence.

  “But then she would need a Pumba.” Shelly turned in her seat.

  Ambrose stared down at Blake, the dog’s head seemingly bigger sleeping on the boy’s small lap. Shelly reached out to muss his hair, the boy playfully shoved his sister’s hand away. Was this what it was like to have a sibling? Ambrose was suddenly happy to be an only child; it must be hard tow
ing around such a young kid in all this.

  The boy yawned and snuggled deeper into his seat. Fletcher shrugged out of his hoodie and tossed it to Shelly. She in turn twisted in her seat to blanket her brother beneath the grime-soaked fabric.

  “We’ll keep driving for another half hour.” Fletcher whispered as Blake finally succumbed to sleep. “We’ll hole up in the next place we find. If we don’t find a place, we’ll pull over and take turns keeping watch.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?” Shelly asked.

  “Dangerous would be driving at night with headlights on. We’d be Meals on Wheels in the dark. Besides, we’re running low on gas. We wouldn’t want to drive smack into the middle of a horde on fumes with no way out.”

  No one argued. They kept driving. Ten minutes later, Fletcher, Shelly, and Marek stepped out of the minivan, weapons in hand. Ambrose moved up front; she was to be the getaway driver.

  The trio moved quietly up a pebble driveway to an isolated farm house. They’d have to search the home quickly in the fast fading sun. Ambrose jittered in the front seat, biting her nails as the group disappeared beyond the white door.

  She hoped Blake wouldn’t wake. He seemed a nice kid, smart. He knew when it was time to stay quiet, but Ambrose wondered if the missing presence of his sister might change that. She really hoped he wouldn’t wake.

  The trees lining the right side of the road kept swaying in the wind. Every rustle of leaves, every swish of branches, made Ambrose quake in her seat. The instinct to drive away was strong. Her hands clutched the steering wheel, her foot hovered over the gas pedal.

  Just… a little… nudge…

  She braced her head against the steering wheel, ashamed at her cowardice. She was not her father. He was no longer here, and she did not need to follow his methods; it’s not as if they had gotten him very far.

  Ambrose listened to Blake’s steady breathing, working to mimic the soothing rhythm. She would not leave his sister behind. Families no longer existed; she would not destroy what the boy had left. Besides, she couldn’t exactly take care of the kid herself.

  Bloody hands slammed against the passenger side window. Despite being startled, the fear stole Ambrose’s voice and kept her from screaming. Thank God for small favors.

  A young girl – what was once a young girl – stared longingly through the window. Her tongue licked the glass, smearing red where it touched. Her top was in tatters exposing one of her small breasts. She sported many bruises, but no bite marks that Ambrose could see.

  “Where’s Shelly?”

  Ambrose turned to look at Blake hugging the nameless dog to his chest. Both boy and dog stared at the girl, the latter quietly growling, hackles raised.

  “Shh, shh. It’s okay.” Ambrose soothed, though Blake was surprisingly calm. “They’ll be right out. They just went to check the house.”

  “But… They are out there.”

  Beyond the girl was nothing but trees. Ambrose had not been paying attention. She had not seen from where the girl had come. The woods? The house? It did not matter. It was a lone Eater, and a slow one at that. A fresh one would have bashed the window by now. “Stay put.” Ambrose instructed Blake.

  Ignoring Blake’s protests she hopped out of the van, making sure to shut the door behind her. The Eater was small; Ambrose could handle her. She didn’t even need to hobble to the other side. Why waste the energy or risk further injury to her ankle when the Eater eagerly shuffled over to her? Grabbing the screwdriver from her back pocket Ambrose waited.

  “What the—?”

  Bile rose in Ambrose’s throat. She had finally gotten used to the dismembered, rotting corpses… but this…

  The girl, maybe fourteen, had no bottoms. Her ankle was broken, her body covered in dirt. Beneath the dirt, Ambrose could see many more bruises and scratches marring her skin, especially her ankles and thighs… her breast. A thin piece of shredded fabric rested on her hips. It took Ambrose a moment to realize it was the remains of ripped underwear.

  The girl slowly approached Ambrose. Frozen, she did not even flinch as the Eater placed its dirty hands on her shoulders. The Eater’s fingers gently traveled up, grazing Ambrose’s neck. Its wheezing groans sounded amazed that its prey was not running away. It smiled wide: red stained her teeth. Ambrose did not think that blood was the Eaters – she had no bite marks anywhere. The fresh blood had to be from her last meal.

  More brains and blood splattered Ambrose. The Eater’s hands fell away as the corpse dropped at her feet.

  “What the hell were you thinking!” Fletcher yelled at her. “You were to stay in the car! Leave if anything happened!”

  Shaking, Ambrose turned to him. “It was just one,” she stuttered weakly. “I was going to put it down.”

  “Why the hell would you let it get so close? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  Ambrose’s only answer was to throw up in the space between their bodies. Luckily there wasn’t much in her stomach but her body still heaved. Fletcher growled before returning his pickaxe to his waistband and stepping up behind her. He lifted the hair away from her face while rubbing circles on her back until the retching subsided.

  “Oh God!” She panted. “I think… I think she was…”

  “Yeah…” Fletcher whispered. “We found two more women inside.”

  Her knees grew weak. She might have fallen atop the young girl had Fletcher not pulled her against him and tucked her under his chin as she sobbed. It seemed the Eaters were not the only monsters lurking about.

  “The house is clear. We can’t risk moving on tonight.”

  “What if… whoever… comes back?” She cried.

  “They were all Shufflers; means they’ve been dead a while. Whoever did this is likely long gone.”

  “Her mouth was bloody.” Ambrose warned. “What if her last meal is close by? It might already be a Runner.”

  “We found feathers and beaks out back. She probably got into a chicken coop.”

  A tapping on glass sounded behind them. Ambrose turned, wiping snot from her nose as she saw Blake staring at them from inside the van. His eyes drifted down to the Eater. Ambrose quickly pushed away from Fletcher and moved to block the boy’s view, though after surviving this long in this new world, he had likely seen so much more. Still – he did not need to see this.

  Fletcher instructed her to get back in the vehicle. He took over up front and rolled down the pebble driveway, parking as close to the front door as he could – just in case.

  Ashen faced, Shelly came down the white wrap around porch, Marek right behind her. She went to Blake first, pulling him from the car to hug him. The five of them gathered their meager supplies and headed inside, the dog happily trotting beside her new boy.

  Chapter Ten

  Nail Polish and Piña Coladas

  After roughly one-hundred and thirty-two days, Shelly was finally clean. She rose from the claw foot bath tub, the lukewarm water rolling off her skin.

  It was their second morning in the farm house. The first day had been dedicated to securing the premises. Plywood from the barn behind the house had been brought in. They spent most of the day alternating between bringing in wood and nailing it onto the many first floor windows. Then it was time to reinforce their work with bookshelves and armoires found throughout the house. Afterwards, risky though it was, Shelly had insisted they give a proper burial to the women they had found. She didn’t have the heart to think of them as Freaks, not with what they had endured before their deaths.

  Upon returning from the impromptu funeral, Marek shouted gleefully as he spotted a well to the left of the house. How they had missed it until now, Shelly couldn’t phantom. Fletcher had quieted the new guy down. Was he trying to bring Freaks down on our heads when we had worked so hard for a peaceful night?

  Once everyone had their share of drink, Shelly announced she would bathe first thing in the morning. Everyone seemed to have the same idea because they all pitched in to haul water the foll
owing day. Fletcher even started up the main fireplace to warm up a few of the buckets.

  After drying up and getting dressed, Shelly gathered the group to help dump the water out the bathroom window. Then they repeated the process until everyone was all sparkly and new.

  Ambrose was the last to bathe. She descended from the second floor to the living room where they had been spending most of their time. The girl was dressed as they all were; in clothes left behind by the previous owners of the household. Instead of one of the cute, long-sleeved dresses such as the one Shelly had chosen, the girl had opted for a men’s grey undershirt and a red lumberjack-esque button down. At least she had styled the outfit with cute black leggings.

  Fletcher was the first to his feet. He stared at Ambrose as if he’d never seen a girl before. Shelly had to look away to hide her smile.

  “I’ll go start dumping the water.” He offered.

  “It’s done.” Ambrose replied. “I kinda… wanted something to do.”

  Shelly knew the feeling. Had they found themselves on a sunny beach with ice cold Piña Coladas, things might be different. As it was, they were stuck far from home, no room service, or any kind of schedule to help pass the days.

  “Wanna play Go Fish?” Blake asked Ambrose. During their quick search of the house, Blake had found a set of princess playing cards in a little girl’s room. He had been looking for pink nail polish to touch up his chipped paint but had no luck. The cards had been a pleasant surprise.

  “Actually, I’m going to head back out to the well. I was thinking maybe I’d wash some clothes. With a car we can carry a bit more things – it would be nice to be able to change every now and then.”

  It was a good idea; one Shelly should have thought of. Not the washing part, just the having spare clothes part. They could easily take more from the house. The clothing might not be a perfect fit, but she doubted anyone was coming back for them. But perhaps the girl had sentimental value in what she had been wearing. Maybe they were the last mementos she had of her previous life.