"We'll be okay," Rhonda said. "Nobody went into the storeroom where Father James and Sister Beatrice might be. I think Derek has everything under control. We just have to wait a little while. We just have to wait."
Jim added, "The military has likely shut down the satellites, but the cell phones might have signals soon. We might still be rescued. Of course, I've already convinced Rhonda that time might be fleeting, and she should at least let me violate her once, because I've never experienced such beautiful flesh. She already promised me that if I were the last man alive, she would give me a fair shot. I need her to take pity on me, since I've been deprived of such beauty my entire life."
Rhonda laughed, although Mina noticed the woman take a step away from Jim. "I think Vincent might be smoother than you are!" Rhonda laughed uneasily.
Jim returned his attention to Mina. It was clear he expected the rebuff and was playing a game. "Rhonda's convinced that I'm dangerous, since I offered you to Vincent, but she doesn't know my sense of humor very well. I was only kidding about her beauty, you see, because I want her to think I'm just a harmless old creep so I can slip up beside her when she's sleeping…"
Rhonda playfully pushed him. "Okay! You made your point! You're trying your best to distract us from all the shit, and you're doing a good job of it." She looked to Mina. "You don't have to worry about Jerome. He's going to start feeling pretty sick soon if he's as hooked as he said. There's nothing you can do for him. We'll keep an eye on him. I only wish there was a change of clothes for you, since you're such a mess. At least you can wash up in the restroom."
Mina could tell she was being excused. As much as Rhonda liked to pretend she didn't enjoy the distraction from Jim, the playful flirting was having an effect on her.
She ambled through the door near the altar and found herself in a silent corridor that smelled like bleach and candle wax. The thought occurred to her that it would be easy to just leave and look for Patrick on her own. Jim had always been nice to her, but there was no guarantee he would help. Although she didn't know exactly what the Artist had planned, she assumed it would involve the two of them turning the church into an abattoir. The church was an all-too-convenient opportunity to Jim to create whatever "masterpiece" he envisioned. This didn't bother her so much, as long as he took her to Patrick after they finished killing everybody.
A thin shape emerged out of one of the rooms and stopped suddenly in the hallway.
"Jesus Christ!" Vincent jumped and ripped his handgun from the waistband of his sagging jeans.
Both of them froze in place.
"Uh… Mina, right? Thought you were one of those dead motherfuckers wandering through here."
"It's okay. My boyfriend used to think I was dead sometimes when I was asleep. He said my breathing was shallow."
Vincent's shoulders sagged, and he relaxed. "Damn, girl, you spooky as all hell. Look, I didn't mean nothing earlier, you know what I'm saying? It's all just fucked up, and I ain't got it all together. Don't know if any of us do. But anyway, you straight?"
"Well, I would have let you have your way with me if you wanted. I'm okay with it. I just want to see my boyfriend. His name's Patrick and he makes good movies that a lot of people like. He has so many great ideas. Jim said he would help me find him, but he's distracted. I just want to make sure he's okay. If you help me, you can have whatever you want."
Vincent looked down at his feet and licked his lips, an indication that he was considering her offer. "This shit… I don't even know what to do. I ain't the emotional type, you know what I'm saying? Nothing for me to go back to, once it's over. Way I figure it, this is my second chance. I've been in and out of the joint. I've done a lot… I don't regret none of it, and if things go back to the way they were, I'm not about to become a saint. But I gotta see this thing differently. I'm here in this church, and I'm still alive. It's a sign, you know? I'm still alive for a reason."
Mina wasn't about to argue with his sense of destiny. She spent most of her time quietly observing everyone's own sense of entitlement. The world always revolved around one person, and in the middle of a disaster, this self-absorption provided the confidence and hope a survivor needed to continue. Vincent was just like everybody else.
"We'll find your boyfriend once we bust out," he looked up at her.
"You're such a nice guy. I like nice guys. You only have to ask if you need anything. I know you've done a lot of bad things, but I don’t think it matters anymore. You can do bad things with me, or watch me do them, if you want. I like to eat—"
Vincent ignored her and put his finger to his lips. "You hear that? Listen… you can hear them out there. It’s quiet, but they're still there, waiting for us."
Mina couldn't hear anything. She didn't need to be reminded of the dead; they followed her wherever she went.
"We gotta keep our voices down," Vincent warned her. "They're leaving us alone. They get distracted and they forget about us."
"You're afraid, but you don't have to be," Mina said. "When they tear your flesh apart, it burns for a little while. You feel like you're on fire, and you might take a long time to die. So it hurts a lot. But eventually, it ends. The pain ends, and then you get to eat people, too."
Vincent shrugged. "Whatever. You say some crazy shit. I didn't say nothing about being afraid. I've had guns pointed in my face; I've been paid to shed blood, and I've sold heaters so others could do the wet work. I ain't afraid of death, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to die. I've been in the shit before, too. Went to Iraq back in '03, but I ain't much for taking orders."
The life from his eyes seemed to be extinguished while he stared beyond her, and she recognized an expression that she saw whenever she looked into a mirror.
The cold visage of a killer.
Vincent had assumed his natural character. He had come unglued earlier, and now, he was comfortable with the violent world in which he found himself. Mina knew that his reality hadn't changed much at all.
"Is that the storeroom behind you?" Mina asked.
"I went down a couple steps to see if maybe I could hear something, but it's quiet. I guess there's a priest and a nun locked in there. You already heard about it?"
Mina nodded. "Father James and Sister Beatrice."
Vincent stroked his chin. "Yeah. So, why don't you come and get something to eat with us? Derek and Shanna are watching the back door. She ain't leaving his side for nothin'."
"Thanks. I might like the company. Shanna seems like such a cute little girl."
She followed him to the back where a chair had been placed against the door. Derek and Shanna sat around a square card table and played Uno. Derek looked up at Mina and nodded a greeting to her. He sat in a small folding chair that seemed like it might break beneath his heavy frame. When he brushed a dreadlock out of his eyes, Mina could see he wore a gold wedding band.
"All quiet," Derek said. "Nothing. Seems like we might be right about them. They can't hear any better or smell any better than we can. Did Vincent apologize to you for what he said?"
Mina nodded. "Um, he didn't have to. It was nice of him, though. Vincent seems like a nice guy."
Vincent sat down against the wall behind Derek and pulled the pistol from the waistband of his pants. "I ain't down for sitting here like this while we just wait for them to break through. I got to get back, got stacks I worked my ass off for."
"Nobody cares about your money," Derek said. "If you're going to complain, why don't you hang out with your buddy, Jim? I'm sure he won't mind listening to you whine."
"Nigga, I bled for that shit. I run these streets…"
"Do you? Do you run these streets? Why don't you go outside and tell the zombies you're in charge, and they should ask for your permission to eat people? You could save us all a lot of trouble. Your gangster bullshit isn't going to help you. And the next time you stand, I want to see you pull your pants up to your waist, where they belong. Try to look and act like a grown man for once in your life."
Vincent shook his head and mumbled. "Just let me hit that weed, and I'll be straight. Sitting on ounces at the crib, just gotta get back. Ain't putting up with no white bread niggas…"
"I need to take a short break," Derek announced to Shanna. "You keep beating up on me at this game. Let Mina sit down and play with you for couple of rounds. There's only so much damage my confidence can take in one night." He winked at Mina.
Shanna shook her head. Mina was convinced the girl was going to start whining or carrying on, but instead, she just stared at her cards.
Derek stood up and offered Mina his chair. "I need to straighten Vincent out a little bit. Have a seat. We'll be back in a minute." He habitually brushed a dreadlock away from his face and looked her over. "Wish we could get you some clothes. Jim told us what happened. Anyway, Shanna's a tough little girl. She doesn't say much, but who could blame her? There really isn’t anything we can say."
He didn't wait for her response; it was obvious she made him feel uncomfortable. What else did Derek know? He was a perfectly sane man, and their small group already looked to him for leadership. They had all been together for a short while, and they knew nothing about each other. If it wasn't for Desmond's half-hearted attempted to quickly get to know everybody when they found temporary shelter inside of the garage, they might still be complete strangers to each other. Derek wanted to make sure everyone was safe; even with all the egos, it was clear that Derek followed all of his convictions. There was no hypocrisy in his heart, or perhaps he carried himself as a man who must always atone for some terrible mistake.
They knew nothing about Jim.
She sat down across from Shanna, who pushed the deck of cards in front of her. Mina piled up the remaining cars and began to shuffle. Derek and Vincent argued at the end of the hallway, and Shanna looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Uno's a fun game," Mina said. "Go easy on me, okay?"
"It's not that fun," Shanna corrected her.
"Do I look scary to you? I hope not. This blood isn't even mine."
Shanna sighed. "I don't care. I don't give a shit."
The little girl's sudden anger was almost endearing, although given their situation, it was easy to see why innocence was no longer needed to mask the emotional fury that boiled within the girl.
"There're monsters in the basement," Shanna announced. "Derek's afraid, but I'm not afraid. I can run from them because I'm fast."
After Mina dealt the cards, she said, "You go first."
Shanna stared at her cards and moved them between her fingers. Mina was at a loss for words
"It's not fair, is it?" Mina asked.
"We're supposed to feed my dog. He's hungry." Shanna wriggled in her seat, the tips of her feet barely touching the floor.
"What's your dog's name?"
Shanna didn't say anything, but kicked her feet beneath the chair. Derek and Vincent continued to shout at one another. Mina turned around to see Derek's finger pointing right into the smaller man's chest.
"You’re so brave," Mina remarked because she thought it was the right thing to say.
"I shouldn't even be here," Shanna said angrily. "I want to run, because I'm faster than everybody. I can just keep running."
"Where will you go?" Mina asked. "Home?"
Shanna stared at her cards while Derek and Vincent continued their argument.
Mina tried and failed to make small talk. It was hardly something she was good at. She'd always been a listener. When Patrick used to complain about his ex-wife, she was there for him. When Jake would come into her room at the hospital, he would launch into tirades about how difficult it was for a middle class kid to make it after graduating from college.
Dark ridges beneath Shanna's eyes hinted at her exhausted state. An interesting thought occurred to Mina then.
"Well, um, have you ever eaten brains before?" Mina asked.
Shanna looked up at her with wide eyes.
"They're actually quite good. Um, you see, it might be like biting into a peach. You like fruit? I used to eat fruit. I like when the juice runs down my chin. No, wait. I mean, you know brains have juice, too. I'd let you eat my brains, but I'm using them, right now. Maybe after I find my boyfriend. Would you like that?"
Shanna's mouth slowly opened.
"Maybe you can let me eat your brains, instead?" Mina asked.
The little girl jumped up from the chair with a scream. Derek was immediately attentive, and crouched down with his arms stretched wide for her. She sobbed hysterically into his chest while his dreadlocks hung in front of his eyes.
He rubbed her back."You look like a freak show and I don't trust you. I don't trust your friend, either. I got a feeling I might know who you are, too. Stay the hell away from Shanna."
Vincent nodded his head to agree with the judgment. He crossed his hands in front of his waist with the gun in his hand. "Lucky I don't feed your ass to them things out there."
"That's enough!" Derek hugged Shanna and stood with her head buried firmly into his shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned, the monsters are supposed to be outside, and that's where they're going to stay. I'm not going to let anything happen to Shanna. She's seen enough. I can't speak for Rhonda or Jerome because I don't make their decisions for them, but if I had it my way, you and Jim would be locked in a closet. And he knows I'm not putting up with your shit."
Mina rose from the chair. "I'm not a good person. I'm not too interested in staying alive. I just want my boyfriend. He was the only person who ever wanted to be with me and love me. I think… I need to use the bathroom, now."
The random string of sentences she put together did little to help her organize her thoughts. She knew everyone was afraid of her, and they had reason to be suspicious.
She could feel the hunger returning. The nightmares would once again claim her soul if she didn't feed.
She walked past the gallery of their suspicious eyes, and she already knew, deep down, that they were all doomed. The mysterious morsel that was Shanna's brain just had to be hers. Mina could see herself dipping her hands into the girl's skull and scooping out the contents of her hand with her open hands, filling them with sweet, sticky blood. The hunk of gray matter in her hands would be mapped with spider web lines across the curvature of the toddler's mind.
Father James and Sister Beatrice might be willing to help her if she let them out of the storeroom.
GRIGGS
At first, Griggs thought it might be like hitting a deer, but after he clipped four people who may or may not have been dead, he figured it would be a lot easier to just drive through them rather than around them.
No cell phone service. No actors. No film. No money. No way out.
He needed to get back to his apartment for the weapons; he would need guns to protect Mina once he found her. He would need to shed more blood.
When he pulled up in front of his apartment complex, the first thing he did was look over the hood of his truck. Splattered with blood and dented in several places, the truck had taken a beating, but he had to hope insurance would cover it. Hell, he certainly didn't have zombie insurance, but with half the customers dead or undead, maybe his people would give him a break.
Griggs felt incredibly calm. Some of the units in his apartment complex were on fire, and several people were screaming in the street, but there were relatively few zombies. The corpses seemed uninterested in what was happening. Griggs couldn't help but think about how harmless they actually were. So what the hell was happening, if these things were hardly as threatening as they seemed? Where was the army, or the marines?
One of his neighbors, an old Vietnam War draft dodger, was using a claw hammer on a corpse that was at his feet; he beat on it incessantly, making a mess out of the former-person's face. Frank Barrister was normally locked in his apartment with his medically prescribed marijuana, smoking the day away for some kind of neck ailment. Frank was a grumpy bastard, and Griggs never could find out what the guy actually used to do for a living befo
re becoming a smoked-out couch potato. He spent a lot of his time arguing with his wife, Betty, who used to work as a janitor in a Detroit school before she was forced to retire because her employer decided to hire a privately contracted service.
"Hey, Frank!" Griggs said casually.
The man looked up and wiped sweat from his brow. "Aw… uh… fuck. What's up?"
Griggs shrugged. "Not much. Nice night for a walk, huh?"
Frank struck the corpse in the jaw again with the hammer. He was covered in blood, and it was difficult to make out who the victim was. The face looked more like a pizza with thick tomato sauce and only a little bit of cheese.
"Zombie trouble, Frank?"
"No," he wiped the hammer on his shirt. "Wife trouble."
"Sorry to hear that. How're the neighbors? Any trouble?"
Frank sat down on the stoop. "Well, a couple people fell down the stairs. You'll see 'em when you go up. Pretty trippy, man. You know what's going on?"
"Nah. Not really."
"Figured maybe you knew. Weren't you some kind of cop or something?"
"Detective, actually. Homicide."
Frank wiped his mouth with the back of his shirtsleeve. "Oh. Well."
An overweight mother Griggs recognized leapt out of her second-floor balcony window and onto the lawn. A figure stood in the window from which she'd fallen, and then flopped out of the window and landed a few inches away from her. The mother moaned and tried to sit up. The other person who'd fallen out after her was a thin man with a mullet and several tattoos on his arms. Griggs recognized them as a married couple who were always shouting at one another about bills.
The woman's husband grabbed onto her fat and pulled himself along the length of her body until his face was right above her stomach. She screamed and begged. He didn't seem to hear, because he buried his face against her stomach and pulled on a mouthful of her flesh with his teeth. Her scream intensified, and she kicked until her husband pulled way with only a little bit of her skin in his mouth, which hung from his bottom lip. She rolled onto her stomach and attempted to crawl away while sobbing and mumbling words only she could understand. The undead husband grabbed onto her back and tried to regain leverage so he could take another bite.
Zombie Ascension (Book 1): Necropolis Now Page 17
