Apocalyptic Fears II: Select Bestsellers: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Greg Dragon

  Wilbur staggered backward and reached for Lee. He had never felt better than when her arms encircled him. He wheezed, his vision dimmed, and he slumped to the floor. Evaney smacked her lips.

  Lee dropped the wand on his chest and pulled him from the sick room. Rose shut the door and poured kosher salt across the doorway.

  Lee shouted, “Salt doesn’t stop vamps.”

  Rose discarded the salt box. “Want to bet?”

  Muttering curses and prayers, Lee dragged him to the stairwell. “Next time a fool asks me to be his lifeline, I’ll spare him the trouble and drown him.”

  Wilbur watched her, loving every grunt and snarl she uttered. He felt as weak as a newborn pup. He quit fighting to stay awake, and put his life in Lee’s hands. First, he had to warn her.

  “Lee, Wilbur needs a blood transfusion,” Rose said after taking his pulse.

  “He can have mine after I finish what she started.”

  “Baby, we have to leave,” Wilbur said, “and survive the Hum first. My blood has powered her up. Once she’s peaked, I’m stuck here as her food source. I won’t be able to leave.”

  “I’m going to stake her,” Lee said, “or you’ll never be free.”

  “We have minutes to get clear of her feeding frenzy, understand? People first.” Fatigue overwhelmed him and he rested. He looked at Rose.

  Her pendulum spun so fast it became a blur. “He’s right. We fight her at the place and time of our choosing, not hers. We have to leave right now!”

  “Little help!” Lee yelled to Cookie. “We’re checking out of Hell House.”

  Louis

  For the first time in his life, Louis understood addiction. Oh, he knew the medical mechanics, but he had never felt the gnawing aspect before now. The drive for nutrients made him gorge on the blood and flesh of his staff and colleagues. Screams erupted now and then as faculty and students woke from the knockout wave. He passed a window and caught a dim reflection of himself and stopped. A howl began in his feet and worked its way out as “No!”

  What came out sounded like a roar or deep growl. He looked like the others in the lab. Louis punched his fist into a door, cracking it. He felt like screaming but was incapable. Was this mutation caused by Ava’s brain injection or the Anchorons? He couldn’t decide.

  His religious beliefs had lapsed over the years, but he had been raised Methodist. Now he wished, before all human thoughts left, that he could bow his head in prayer. What he was becoming found the idea confusing. He massaged his temples.

  Hunger cramped his gut, and he doubled over in pain. A student ran past, also evolving but at a lower level. He wanted to reach out and snap her neck and feed, but resisted the impulse.

  Not as long as I’m alive.

  End, then!

  Louis realized the schizophrenic battle to keep his human feelings had begun. He tried to open the door to the AL war room, but his digits were clumsy. The door was locked out, but he remembered the pass number. The concentration to complete the task of punching 8574 frustrated him. He should be feeding. The door clicked and he kicked it open. Cindy Van Zant screamed and ducked behind a table chair.

  He sniffed the air.

  Cindy should be changing, but something delicious coursed through her blood, preventing it. A spice? She was a vegan and drank herbal teas for health. Louis took another sniff. She didn’t have the human genetics for remaining unchanged. A food she ingested regularly had prevailed and stopped the change. Enough of his scientific side remained to get excited by the idea, but could it change him back to human?

  What for?

  He sniffed again. Smell was stronger, but hearing was incredible. Her heartbeat sounded like an engine. He should protect Cindy because she had the reversal key. Louis took a step backward when he heard her cowering thoughts.

  He loves me. He’ll never hurt me.

  Oh, God. Oh, God, he’s hideous.

  “Cindy.” Louis tried to vibrate the sound closest to making her name. “Forgive me.”

  She covered her ears, sobbing.

  Cindy is scared.

  The prey trembles.

  Louis jumped on the tabletop. The ease surprised him. His physical agility and strength pleased him. I’m still human.

  Cindy scampered under the table and the chase thrilled him. Louis followed her down, shoved chairs aside, and overtook her. He let her crawl out from under the table before flipping her over on her back. Her teeth chattered, and her eyes were shut tight.

  He slammed the door with his foot. No sharing of this feast. She tried to get away, but the end of his lower appendages, his toes, held her in place. She kicked and even bit into his leg. Her resistance thrilled him, and he sank down beside her to enjoy. Cindy punched his chest, slapped his face, and poked her fingers into his eyes. He let her struggle without biting back or hurting her. Worn out, she succumbed to tears.

  The good substance in her blood secreted onto her skin during her struggle. He lifted her up over one arm and ripped her clothes off. He sniffed her back and then licked her skin under the blue lovebirds’ tattoo. Mmm. Nutty? It’s so good, good for us. He smacked his lips. The taste was familiar. He rolled her over.

  “Louis, stop! We’re friends. We’re more than friends and you know it.” Her voice cracked, and she shook with delirium tremors. Her palms hid her breasts from him.

  He wanted more than anything to hug her and apologize, but couldn’t. Every time his human emotions surfaced, his physical movements wouldn’t cooperate. When he didn’t answer, fear infused her blood—her rich, vital blood loaded with chemicals he needed for survival. He knew Cindy’s blood type was AB negative because the blood bank called often for donations. Her blood was vital to him. To us. Louis tried to stop his growing compulsion to feed, but couldn’t. Hungry-hungry-hungry.

  “Eating human flesh is a mortal sin. It’s a curse you’ll never escape. Let me go!”

  He laughed, but it sounded like a snort. Eat you? I couldn’t eat you.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  Louis pressed her wrist against his nose. Smelling her blood churning inside the tiny vessels excited him. Saliva rolled from his mouth and dripped on her. He made sounds to terrify her until her blood boiled with the required substances. Louis dragged sharp, talon-tipped digits up her belly.

  “I love you, Louis. Please don’t hurt me.”

  He let her go.

  Shaking, she crawled away. But as the good scent faded, he had to stop her. He reached over and stabbed her in the notch at the back of her head with his poison talon. Not to kill her. No, feeding was best while the prey breathed.

  Cindy sobbed.

  What am I doing? I must stop! He knew if he ate the woman he loved, he could never be human again. Louis tried to move away from her but couldn’t. Existence, his existence, required her blood. He rolled her over. For the first time, Louis noted freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Tears had washed the makeup away. Seeing her freckles embarrassed him.

  “Get it over with you son of a bitch!”

  No-no-no.

  Yes-yes.

  He sunk his teeth into her carotid artery. His suction tentacles dropped and drained her life-giving nutrients into him. Immediately, he felt a cellular response. But the other taste, the required taste, was so delicious he stopped sucking her blood to roar. More-more-more. He bit back down, trying to tease the special taste out. He felt Cindy’s fingernails gouge into his face and claw downward. Ah, good.

  What is it? Louis felt torn, adrift. He wanted to save her, but he had to save his pack.

  She panted in terror. He pulled back to extend the venom fang from his finger, like humans use guns to threaten. Louis cringed at the monster he had become. He listened for her thoughts to answer his question, but nothing came.

  “You’re drinking me!”

  Louis stroked her hair. He had to get the answer or die. The substance was vital to their survival. He would need a lot more, and so would the others to become the new kind. Or h
e could feast on her and hope she provided enough for him to live on.

  “No,” he howled.

  “It’s, it’s…Fuck you!”

  Louis had always admired her feisty nature. But the beast in him would not let him stop eating her. Appetite came from the brain, and the Anchorons controlled his. The human part would have to submerge to survive, but how could he let her die?

  I need to know what the substance is first.

  We must survive.

  Who is Eddie Jean?

  She is light.

  We want her.

  Louis marveled at the power that evolved him. He knew few were of his caliber. How would children deal with this addiction?

  Who is Eddie Jean?

  He would find her because she held a key, or knew details on a subject he required, and Eddie Jean knew the key couldn’t be shared with his kind.

  “I forgive you,” Cindy said, gasping. “I loved you, Louis.”

  He bit into Cindy to silence her. She was dangerous. Cindy made him want AL back.

  The hunger frenzy continued nonstop as he drank her blood and then tore out her heart and drained every drop. Next, he sucked out her spinal fluid before succumbing to the need for rest. Satiated, he looked down at her lifeless body with horror. Anguish stunned him, and he screamed out his revulsion.

  Maybe he should release his feelings?

  No! To let go is to devolve.

  The human side clutched Cindy’s body to his chest as he leapt on the AL table. He howled out his anguish while cradling her limp body. His kind stayed away. They didn’t understand, but sensed danger if they moved in. His grief felt not unlike his human grief. He found rocking her body helped him feel better.

  Louis slept—or a semblance of rest. The hunger pains receded and were replaced with a new high—the intoxication of feasting on human flesh and blood. No wonder it was considered a sin and crime against humanity—otherwise, it would be called a delicacy.

  He knew then humans made the rule because someone remembered when humans were feasted on. Louis looked down at her pale face, feeling sad. To endure this madness, he had to jettison his feelings and forget being human. He couldn’t accept that. Louis tried to brush hair off Cindy’s face.

  He remembered the way she had kissed his eyelids before she walked out of the room. His heavy heart had danced with pleasure after each one. He didn’t want to forget. Never forget. He couldn’t go on split like this, aching to be human, wanting to be other.

  “I can’t live like this,” he yelled out. He looked at Cindy’s pale face. Sorrow swept over him. What did a long life mean if he had no one to love?

  You must go on. You will go on.

  Be quiet!

  Ava had a lot to answer for. She had answers his father had passed on. To confront her for all she hid from humanity, he would go on. To honor Cindy, he’d keep his human feelings and hold on to his memories of her. She gave him long life, and he’d remember her until his last day.

  I’ll miss you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not a monster. I’m not.

  You tasted so good.

  Rett

  Rett’s left hand jerked the seat lever and the bench seat flew back as the shot cracked his eardrum and shattered the glass on the passenger window. He ignored his hysterical children, and his left hand pushed the gun upwards as the second bullet penetrated the roof. He stabbed his right hand out, striking the assailant’s throat. The person released the gun and dropped to the ground.

  “Daddy!”

  Blinded by rage, Rett shoved the door open and jumped out. He grabbed a thin arm and flung the assailant over. He shoved the gun at his face. A woman? She held her arms out in a “stop” gesture even as she gagged from the blow to her throat. A girl.

  He noted her sunken eyes, emphasized by neon-green eye shadow, looked hopeless. Tears humanized her half-dead face. His anger faded. He stuffed the weapon in his waistband. Christ, she couldn’t be twenty-one yet.

  His eyes scanned the quiet rest park illuminated by a white ball of sun. No traffic had stopped and no one ran from the main building to check out gunfire—twice. He noticed a wooded area he had failed to detect earlier and supposed she came from there. Two vehicles pulled off the Interstate to use the facilities, but the people inside pretended not to notice them.

  “You alone?” he asked.

  Sniffing, she muttered, “Yeah. I didn’t mean to shoot.”

  Never heard of a hair trigger, he guessed. “Don’t move.” Rett moved to the driver’s window and asked, “Anyone hurt?”

  The boys hugged each other and reminded him of Anna’s younger sisters.

  “No, sir.”

  Rett took a moment to check them out. Relieved, he said, “A’ight. Stay put, okay?”

  “’Kay,” Tommy answered.

  He turned back to the girl. She was petite and not quite five feet tall. At sixteen, Eddie Jean dwarfed her. “Why’d you draw down on me?”

  “I’m sick,” she said like it was his fault. “Need my meds.”

  Too bad.

  “I’ll ask again, why?”

  “Nobody’s picking up hitchers.”

  “There’s been an emergency, in case you’ve been in a hole. Where did you get the gun?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  “Uh-huh. Where’s he?”

  She bit her lip and wiped her nose.

  He watched, unmoved by her discomfort. “The boyfriend?”

  She sniffed and made little hacking sounds like she tried to clear her throat. Finally, she snapped out a reply. “Took my money and left me three weeks ago.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  No way. “Can you prove it?”

  “Why?” She reached into her jean pocket and flipped a license at him. He caught it with his left hand. A Texas license about to expire in two months, and her name was Katie Lyons. He studied the cute, smiling picture and tried to line it up with the shrew on the pavement. She had been on the hard road, he guessed. “Get up.”

  “Huh?”

  “Stand.”

  She held out her hand to him, but he ignored it. Slowly she stood, swaying. He surveyed her with pity. Skinny as a jump rope and as filthy as one left out in the yard. Scruffy, threadbare clothes, and even her black hair looked greasy and dull. She had a short, spiky hairstyle. Her neck and upper chest were surrounded in a lasso of angry ink that would keep her unemployed for life.

  She noticed him checking her out and unzipped her windbreaker. Grime-ringed fingernails unbuttoned her shirt, exposing a black push-up bra, like its color was the ultimate turn-on after nearly blowing his head off.

  When she thrust her hips out in the age-old street hooker signal, he felt sick.

  “I’ll take care of you, baby.” The windbreaker hit the ground and the blouse flapped open in the breeze.

  Crap, with the adrenalin pumping through his body, he wouldn’t have minded a quickie—except a paper doll was sexier than her. Her jutting ribs looked like they would pierce her pale skin, making her appear terminally ill. He supposed her foreign tats might warn “Fragile—Handle with Care.” From her appearance, he judged her to be a meth addict. Power company employees often notified police when they smelled the big three odors from a house—ammonia, rubbing alcohol, and acetone.

  Her chin quivered when she noticed his disinterest. “You’ve gone Brokeback?”

  He didn’t have time for this. Rett figured people stopped if they had to and since most phones weren’t working folks stopped being nosy. From the road, it must look like a grown man had forced a young girl to strip and no one cared.

  Something to remember in the future.

  “Cover yourself, so I can let my boys out.”

  Nose dripping clear snot, she buttoned her shirt. Rett motioned her to the back and waved her to step back about ten feet. He hoped she’d run when he turned around, but she didn’t. He scanned the area again before letting the twins out. They were unusually quiet, stari
ng at the girl like she was a ghost.

  Rett squatted down and checked each one for glass cuts, but found none. He hugged them both, amazed by the feeling of grace in his heart.

  “Why’d she shoot at us?” Tommy asked.

  “She’s lost and scared.” Rett released them and walked to the back of the Chevy. The boys followed him like a shadow. He dropped the tailgate and lifted them up.

  “I’m sorry I scared you boys,” Katie told them.

  Rett removed the cooler from the backseat, liking her better for the apology.

  “But I’m not lost,” Katie said, licking her lips. Her right eye twitched, and her thumbs rubbed her other fingers instead of her belly.

  Rett raised the lid and pulled out two sandwiches. He opened apple juice for his kids. The boys devoured their subs.

  “Are monsters chasing her too?” Teddy asked, chewing with his mouth open.

  “Naw. Police got them at the airport.” He hoped they’d forget what happened on the plane, but he could tell they remembered from the nervous way both glanced around. They were the old man’s grandsons, all right. Both reacted instinctively, checking out their surroundings.

  “Monsters?” Katie asked, sitting down on the pavement, knees pulled to her chest.

  “Four people on our plane changed into…into something not human, and attacked,” Rett explained, wishing he didn’t. If she told the authorities they escaped their net, he and the boys were sunk. “No one knows what caused it. They’re calling it a plague plane.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.” He walked over to her and handed her a Coke and a foot-long sandwich. Watching her snatch and gobble tugged at his heart. She wiped mayo from her lips. “Two days since I’ve eaten. You and the boys aren’t contagious, are you?”

  “We look sick to you?”

  She shook her head. “The epidemic is why no one’s picking up hitchhikers?”

  “Folks are scared.”

  “Good,” she said with a smile. “I thought people didn’t like me.”

  “You do look a little sick.”

  “My medicine.”