Avenging Angel: Z is for Zombie Book 7

by catt dahman

  It was pleasant to drowse around the fireplace in the dry, old home.

  At one end of the big rectangular room, a door opened to a large hallway; on the opposite side of the long hallway were two bedrooms. A bathroom was at one end of the hallway, and at the opposite end was a door that opened outside to a large, wooden front porch.

  On another wall in the big room were over-sized windows, looking outside on the porch. Opposite the windows was a door leading from the big room into the dining room.

  In the dining room were two other doors. One led to a shredded-covered porch, and the second door led into the kitchen and an eating area. A door in the kitchen led into a large living room/bedroom. This room also had a door that led out to a very small porch, covered with a shingled roof. This was the door closest to the driveway and garage, so everyone, family or friend, entered there.

  The spacing wasn’t crowded; in fact, the floor plan was open in kind of a fat upside down L-shape. Everyone had room to pull mattresses in and line them up in the big room, in the dining room, and living room/bedroom, giving everyone comfortable places to sleep in sleeping bags.

  Rain pounded on the roof, and thunder shook the unbroken windows; they had taped and covered the windows that were broken.

  Despite the storm that continued for the next two days, it did, indeed, flood the bayou until it rose and took back the banks, brick streets, the lower level shops, and homes, and it moved rusted vehicles again.

  Somewhat like the young people before them who slept in the bedrooms, as well as in the big room in this well-built, old house with memories and ghosts of the past that flittered about them, these young people camped in the big room before the firelight, played cards and read aloud. They, too, slept well in this well-built, old house. This was a kinder, simpler time: their bellies were full; they were clean. In ways, it was as if the zombies had never been.

  Chapter 10

  Roads Less Traveled

  In Nacogdoches, the group looked at the problem with curiosity as they rode out to see if Stephen F. Austin University survived. Almost as soon as they took that route and got in the thick of the university area, the moaning began, and while there were many zeds with their thin, torn bodies and haggard faces, there were many more Reds than ever. Students who were already ill were sent to their dorm rooms where they changed and began their infernal hunt for food.

  Some, far from home, miserably crept back to their rooms as they were told and went into comas on old worn mattresses with no one to care for them.

  Most couldn’t even make it down the hall to the bathrooms and lay in their own waste. Universities couldn’t do anything for the kids since the whole world collapsed, presenting bigger issues.

  In the relatively close quarters of the university setting, those who didn’t get sick with Red were quickly attacked and left mangled. College towns were disadvantaged.

  Jet realized they were almost pinned within seconds as the Reds came from all sides, many in filthy, gore-crusted SFA tee shirts or pajamas. If they weren’t dressed in such dirty, faded clothing, the ghouls might have looked like a sea of purple and white as they attacked in a horde. As it was, they made a wave of purplish grey and dirty grey, along side the white bodies, maroon blood, and brown filth.

  Hannah fired at them but was wide-eyed with worry, not for herself, but for her friends and especially for Jet. Her horse danced with flaring nostrils and rolling, fearful eyes; she missed a shot entirely as two people on horseback darted forward, and she saw flashes of color and light.

  No kidding, a girl was dressed in black leather with strips of red in her braids and complex, red designs on her clothing; her horse was garishly decorated with red lacquered hooves, a braided tail, and a mane with red shiny things hanging off.

  The other horse and person were decorated in shades of blue, but the tail flickered with pieces in the blue shades, silver and gold, so it was like blue fire.

  They looked like circus horses.

  Before she could get her mind back on what was happening and the imminent danger, she saw a dark skinned man wearing leathers with dramatic little yellow pieces of cloth on his black horse’s mane and tail; another man who resembled the first one had his short hair and scalp colored green but had little color on his horse except for the hooves that were shiny green and glittery, making the huge thing look like a horse of the apocalypse floating on a terrible poison, fogging the ground.

  Hannah wanted to stop and laugh at this spectacle. In all the grey of rot and decay and horror, these people looked like comic book characters. They looked silly, and yet they used swords and rifles like experts.

  Had Jet not yelled her name, she might have sat there all day watching the entertainment, wondering what comic book she accidentally fell in.

  A man in black raced by her and motioned her to cover him as he fired at the zombies, causing blood and brains to coat the ground in a sick pudding-like mess.

  Hannah drew her eyes from his horse’s silver hooves, silver-braided tail, and his silver, thick arm guards and helmet to shoot her own weapon.

  A sixth woman rode a roan with purple accents braided in, making it almost a lavender ghost, creepy, pretty, and weird all at the same time. She led the way through a path they easily cut through the zombies.

  Hannah followed, hearing Lance and Sadie snickering behind their hands. Jet was confused; frowning, Anthony showed disgust that these were their help; Robbin, openly curious, turned her head back and forth to see it all and to see Ricky shaking his head.

  “If you can’t beat ‘em, baffle them with bullshit and color,” the man told Hannah. His name was Neal. “I know we look different, but it works with many. Not with zeds since they don’t care.”

  “We’re not far,” said the woman in purple. Her frosted roan almost looked purple.

  “We appreciate the help,” Jet said. Trying not to laugh, he took everything and everyone in, felt this group was good as they had sane eyes and smiles that rang real, but he was confused about the strange clothing. “Ummm…we don’t mean to seem unappreciative or critical at all, but….”

  “We know,” said a woman, “it was my idea from second one to look like super heroes. I did it to deal with the stress and horror I know, now, but at the time, it made sense. We kept it up for a few reasons: One….”

  “It baffles the enemy with the bullshit if they are human,” Neal said again, “right, Sarah?”

  “Yup.” Her red hair gleamed. “Imagine…no…you experienced it…you see a bunch of nuts with all this color and what do you think? We have to be crazy, right?

  And it was about us as a group; it made us solid. It also made it all a little less terrible…usually…having to deal with everything. And if we can’t be super heroes, then who will be?” She introduced her brother in the blue as Jake and the woman in purple as Kee Kee or Yuki formally.

  Raul was dressed in yellow, and his brother, Jamal was dressed in green. “We just like the colors,” he said as he laughed, “we have a few more with us; some less colorful and a few more colorful. This is toned down compared to how we began.”

  “It’s pretty,” Sadie said, “different.”

  “Oh, we are very different,” Neal promised.

  They followed the group to a part of town that looked blocked off by ruins, cars and big diesel trucks, huge metal trash containers, and wire. Once they were inside and were checked for infection, they went to what was a small but fairly tall hotel. It wasn’t a lavish or large area but felt safe enough.

  They were asked if they were thirsty or hungry, but they weren’t as they had eaten venison and replenished the water the night before. Sadie offered the wrapped steaks, a bag of wild garlic, and some small, very sweet red apples they picked. They wanted to contribute to a meal.

  “Hot damn, thanks,” Neal said, “we can cook the meat and add some canned vegetables.”

  In the lobby, emptied of all but cushions on the floor and tables in a corner, a man turned around to gr
eet them with a warm handshake for each. He was of medium height and not especially memorable but for his soft, warm, brown eyes. “I’m Adam, welcome.”

  Hannah realized that she knew him. Running the information in her mind, she finally remembered where she had seen him.

  She thought, “Do you remember a girl with an axe, a few dead bodies on a porch, and a bowl of hot, delicious stew in Year Z 1?”

  Adam looked her over and said, “Hannah, I always wondered what became of you and if you made it.” He hugged her. “You grew up.”

  She stopped and explained to her group how they first met, just after the Reds began attacking and as she was standing on her front porch, moving the bodies of her parents, brother, and sister after dispatching them. Adam shared a meal with her, even inviting her to go with him if she wanted.

  “That simple meal gave me hope, Hannah, that others would be so kind and willing to share with a stranger.” He couldn’t help but admire that she had grown into a beautiful woman, very tall and strong. Her eyes were lovely.

  “Is that your color?” Hannah pointed to an aqua, faded bandana tied about his thigh.

  “Yep,” he said as he laughed. It was the color of Hannah’s eyes. “We like color.”

  “My mom’s favorite color, my adopted mom, you know about the other one,” she added.

  He nodded, remembering.

  Others who came in and out to meet the group had bandanas on their legs or pieces of colored material, but none except one wore as much color as Sarah: a girl who had all shades of pink painted on her clothing and rose-colored boots. Her hair was bleached almost white with pink stripes painted through it; she was very pretty, but the pink was almost over powering.

  “Happy to see you all,” she said as she waved and smiled. She was twelve, and this was all she knew. They called her Pinky.

  When they told the rest where they were from, Adam said that they had heard of Hopetown and had heard that the members were hard assed about rules. But they didn’t know what would be required to fit in.

  Hannah laughed, “If I can survive it, then anyone can. Jet and I were so bad growing up? Horrible but we did fine. You can’t rape, rob, hurt a child, or beat women.

  We use common sense about crime, there are no murders, and there is no reason for stealing. People just get along, or if a man slaps his wife around, he gets his ass kicked. You murder; you hang. You get lazy and drunk; you get tossed out.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “When you behave, you have a job you enjoy and are good at, and it’s something you take pride in everyday. Everything is important. We have an artist; you’d think that would be a stupid job, but he teaches the children art in classes. And you work and have fun with people. You don’t ‘clock’ in as they used to call it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I rode guard duty; I always wanted to be at work; I felt proud of my abilities. When you want a break, you take it. You eat, too,” said Hannah as she laughed.

  “Later, when you are tired, you finish and go eat with everyone. People take off at different times and work on teams, and we have entertainment in the evenings: playing card games, singing, dancing, listening to music, and watching plays. The kids are always busy.”

  “Interesting.”

  “We have a governor and a head of security. Whatever you need, you can ask for, and people will help. Everyone is important. A teen girl who sits with children is as valuable as anyone else.”

  “Some days, people have time off; we play baseball games, swim during the summer, and participate in all kinds of activities; we even grow our fresh food,” Anthony added.

  “Fresh as in…really fresh? Vegetables and other foods?”

  Jet had been on the road long enough now to already miss that; these people must dream about it. He began to list what they grew. Lance and Sadie jumped in to help.

  “I’ve never heard of half of that. I have had olives, and they are good,” Pinky said, “and real milk?”

  Anthony nodded. “We don’t grow olives, but sometimes, we have some in cans or in jars from before and pickles that people actually make and all types of pickled vegetables.”

  “I love pickles: sweet, dill, sour, ” Pinky sighed as she listed her likes.

  “I was that way: like you when I joined in Year Z 3. I bet I drank a gallon of milk the first day, and when I tasted butter, this sounds crazy, but I cried like a big ole baby. The next day, I started on buttermilk.”

  “Butter? Buttered milk?” Pinky didn’t know what that was. What was it that made a grown man cry? It must be amazing.

  “Butter is smooth, creamy, salty, and sweet, and buttermilk is sour, thick milk you can dip cornbread in.”

  “Corn bread, I know,” Pinky said, “we have it on holidays.”

  “We have it a lot. I like it with turnip greens, pinto beans, corn, and pork chops.”

  “You’re killing me,” Adam moaned.

  Adam and the rest shared stories and then asked for stories about the new people, puzzled by the whole mall rescue that Anthony and Robbin shared. “A mall? Could you have been more cliché’?”

  Anthony chuckled. “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe we got outta there; if we hadn’t, we’d still be hiding there.”

  “Sorry, you lost a friend. Did that girl, Lacey ever show up again?”

  “Nope,” Jet said, “and we didn’t see Dave and the crazy kids again either, but John Ponce shows up at times.

  He told them about the beginning: how they lost Juan and his parents, the battle at the airport and Zane, and then about the religious family, and things from the later years.

  “Why do you call him a hybrid?” someone asked.

  Lance explained about the inoculations and what they meant to John Ponce, and finished by saying that Hopetown, other than liking Ponce, didn’t welcome hybrids.

  The people who sat around them went quiet. Adam moved his hand, made a motion to indicate everyone should be quiet, yet no one said a word, just stared at the newcomers.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Lance…ummm…Yuki was inoculated. It’s something we figured out the hard way.” It was the part Adam left out of his story. He still didn’t describe how a man could sleep with Yuki and then become infected: chasing her and almost killing all of them. Her memories of being inoculated were hazy, but they figured out parts of it.

  Anthony tensed, wondering if they were about to have a fight and maybe be bitten and infected by this group. Sadie scooted away closer to Lance. Jet’s hand inched to his pistol.

  “We don’t mean you any harm,” Adam said. “We’re now as afraid of you as you are of us. We didn’t know people had a name for the inoculated or that anyone hated us. We never really thought much about inoculations except to be careful with what we carry.”

  “I doubt that you fear us as much as we do you,” Robbin muttered.

  “Only the zeds hate you if they can feel hate. Everyone hates us,” Neal said. “Wow. Go figure that.”

  “You were given the shot, too?” Hannah asked confused about how they found one another.

  “We found the remains of a medical team who was doing some of the inoculations: their papers and the inoculations themselves. Yuki was immune, so we all sat and talked it over: did we want to be like her or stay like you. We knew both sides. Half of us decided to take the inoculations.”

  “You…you chose it? Why? Why would you?” Lance blurted. It was the craziest thing he ever heard.

  Adam took a deep breath. “I didn’t. They did. Five did. We went to see them afterwards as planned, but they were gone, no note or any explanation. The people I was with died as I told you, and I found the people I knew later by accident really.”

  “We left because it was easier; we knew they would look at us the way you do now with fear and worry,” Yuki said. “No matter what they said, we knew we had changed in everyone’s eyes. I didn’t know anyone called us hybrids or wanted to kill us.”

  �
�You carry the prion,” Jet said.

  “And what if you do, too? What if everyone were infected and only some changed? I feel exactly the same, but pain is easier to take, but I get cravings that hurt if I don’t get raw meat: animals, not people,” Neal said. “I’m still me. It never changed my mind or who I am inside.” He pointed to his head and then his heart.

  “But we’re immune,” Sarah added. “We can fight hard and up close with no fear unless we are…well…being eaten.”

  “I won’t say I am happy to hear that you are hybrids,” Jet said. “I don’t know what to think. I guess I know how Mom felt about knowing about John Ponce and hating the inoculation but liking him all the same.”

  “You liked us fine until you knew. Why be prejudiced because of that? It’s like skin color or religion and hating someone because of that.”

  “I never worried that someone of a different color or religion would bite me,” Anthony said.

  “I don’t bite,” Adam told them.

  Hannah could see her group was about to pack up and leave with bad feelings on both sides, and more than anything, she wanted a chance to talk to people like herself and her age. “Stop. Everyone just stop. When I was twelve and after Adam met me, a military unit came around and forced me to take the inoculation, too.” Her voice was high with stress and anxiety.

  Her friends looked at her as if she dropped a bomb.

  “Wow,” Adam said, “guess no one knew?”

  “You what?” Lance asked. “Why are you saying that? Your mother…”

  “Mom and Dad know. Len knows. Mark knows,” she said. “I didn’t ask for it…like Yuki…it was against my will. But I have never bitten any of you. If I had told all of you, would you have hated me? I’ve always been just me. No one told because Mom loved me anyway.” She almost cried.

  “Oh, Hannah,” Sadie had tears in her eyes. “Didn’t you worry someone would find out?”

  “Every day.”

  “Carla,” Lance said. He was talking about a woman who was a hybrid, who attacked innocent people, spread the infection, and caused many deaths.