Charon's Blight: Day Two (the Rotting Souls series Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  “Just saying. You want to go pick him up? She can get you out there; she’s an awesome pilot,” the boy replied as if speaking of someone he was fond of. The father instinct began to rustle and he wondered if he should snip that in the butt right now. “If you don’t want to take a risk and do something about it, then you don’t get to bitch.”

  “Hey now,” he said, noticing the icy tone to the boy’s voice. Was it just the weariness talking?

  The boy glared at him. “You’ve been pacing about this place like you’re biting at the bit to go out there and do something to help someone, but the moment something happens, you hide behind the “protecting your family” line. Either stop pacing or do something, you can’t do both.”

  “Have you seen Sean this morning?” he asked, changing the subject.

  The boy harrumphed. “He’s probably drowning himself with another bottle of bourbon.”

  That stung. So the drinking binge the night before hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied and knew that it was pointless, Ben saw right through it.

  “When I talked to him this morning, he looked eager to find another bottle. I’m quite sure that if a zombie were to take a bite of him right now, it’d get drunk as well,” the boy snarked.

  It was a horrid thought, but still felt true. The man had been hiding something the night before and there always seemed to be something coming up to prevent him from finishing that conversation. “Wait a minute, you talked to him this morning?”

  “Yep,” the boy simply replied, suddenly working furiously at his workstation.

  “And?” he prompted, not liking how the usually talkative boy was suddenly immersing himself in his computer to avoid a conversation.

  Ben didn’t say anything and soon a mere moment stretched into a long uncomfortable silence. “It’s nothing. Maybe when things calm down we’ll talk about it. It’s really Sean’s place to do that,” the boy said, as if that ended the conversation.

  What the hell?

  It was quite apparent that Ben was not going to continue talking as he was busy writing computer code, having dismissed him as if he had already left. Shaking his head, he cursed under his breath. “Guess I’ll go check with Nick, get him up on that tower.”

  “Good idea,” the boy responded in a way that made it clear their conversation was over. Then Ben grunted in his direction as the door opened, “and you got seven other kids down there playing video games, maybe get them to go feed the dogs and livestock? Not like my father is up to doing that right now.”

  “I’m on it,” he responded, trying not to sound angry and failing.

  First, he’d go find Nick and tell him to take Tammy up into one of the towers, teach her what she needed to know so that they could start rotating shifts. Then he’d grab Caleb and get him to take the others out to the livestock pens. The horses would need upkeeping too. Maybe Sam would like to do that, she used to show horses when she was a teenager, it had to be like riding a bike, right? Muttering under his breath he left the boy to his work and went to find his oldest son.

  After all that was settled, he was going to hunt his millionaire friend down and knock that fucking bottle out of his hand. If he had too, he’d bust every single one they had in the place until he got some fucking answers—enough was enough. He hated secrets with a passion and with the world going to shit around him, it was the only thing in his life that he could control.

  Flexing his fingers, he tried to contain his anger, but it was slipping. He might want to make sure that he had no weapons on him when he finally caught up to the man or else there’d be another zombie in the world and he might not kill this one. He might let it roam out there in the forest trying to kill itself trying to get back in.

  Strangely, that brought a smile to his face as he disappeared down the hall and out of sight.

  Chapter 9

  Violated

  Saint

  Tucson, AZ

  She was beyond frustrated at this point.

  She was standing on the porch of the Todd’s childhood home, leaning against a post with her left shoulder, her rifle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She didn’t expect things to stay quiet for long, she really wanted—no—needed to get back on the road.

  She was running low on cigarettes as she was unable to hinder her chain smoking during this unintended break of theirs. Luckily the old man had a few packs stashed amongst his tools, but she was going to need another pack soon and running up to the corner store wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Henry had told her that there was a Quickmart just up the street and as she turned to check on the others progress, she made a command decision to go check it out. It would help her distract herself from the shit going on around her.

  Getting into her truck, she wondered if she shouldn’t take one of the cars instead, she wasn’t exactly being stealthy driving around a stolen fire marshal’s truck. Sooner or later, the authorities were going to notice that and what would happen to her then?

  Shrugging it off, she turned over the engine and pulled away from the house without a word to the others on where she was going or why. They would either panic or trust that she’d be back; she was going to leave it up to them to choose which way to go.

  A couple of the houses looked abandoned; doors thrown wide and left forgotten. In intervals between were houses that had a more fortified look; boards over windows, obstacles placed on lawns, signs warning off the living taped to doors. It was an odd thing to see so much activity, either from those that left or those that chose to stay, yet the street still looked deserted and not a single soul was in sight. While there seemed to be some movement by a few windows as she passed, no one made any attempt to flag her down and get her attention.

  She completely understood; in their place, she’d probably do the same.

  It had been a good decision to take this drive, no matter how short of a trip it’d be. Even though all of her soul wanted to just hit the gas and keep on going, it was still nice to have a chance to break away and do some thinking on her own.

  Things were moving too slowly for her back at that house. There seemed to be no rush to get on the road; it was as if the older couple was just off on another camping trip, not fleeing a city full of zombies. She knew in her heart that if things didn’t progress quickly, they’d get trapped there and then she’d really go off the deep end. At any moment, a herd could come shambling down that neighborhood street and their chances at making it out of there alive would evaporate in seconds.

  She had tried repeatedly to push them along, as had Todd when he called for updates, but nothing seemed to help. Lynn, the older lady in the house, had to pack everything that she considered indispensable and valuable; which was just about every single thing she owned.

  To his credit, Henry had told her several times to forget certain things, but when he had his back turned, Lynn would put whatever it was back into the pile they were packing to take with them. After a couple of hours of this madness, she had been ready to scream and just hit something. Hence, this trip down to the corner store was more for her peace of mind than anything else.

  She stopped at Benson Highway, checked for the non-existent traffic, then pulled across to the abandoned building on the other side. The store appeared intact and she wondered how it had missed the looting phase people seemed to be going through. Maybe between the ones hunkering down in their homes and those fleeing, no one had thought to come up here. There was a neighborhood behind it, but it was screened from view by a large row of bushes.

  She’d have to be careful about that; anything could come out of those at any moment.

  She parked in the center of the abandoned parking lot and made sure she had her rifle in hand as she approached the glass double doors to the store. To her surprise, the doors opened with little resistance and she heard a bell sound as she cautiously stepped in.

  There had to be a catch.

  Nothing seemed looted or eve
n out of place. She half expected an attendant to come out of the back or the cooler in response to the bell and she stood in place to see if that would happen. After a few moments of continued silence, she took tentative steps forward; fighting the urge to call out. With no further signs of life, she raised her rifle and cleared the aisles as she made her way to the coolers. Feeling her spirits lift, she opened the first door on the left and took a Rockstar from the shelf. It was nice and cold and as she popped the lid, she knew that she wouldn’t be leaving the store without the rest of them.

  The bell went off and she jerked around, the can still held to her lips. A man was standing there brandishing a tire iron. He was wearing a Megadeath T-shirt and black jeans and was taller than her, Hispanic, and had a huge smile on his face. “Well, well, look what we got here.”

  She dropped the can of Rockstar, brought her rifle up, and almost slipped on the liquid pooling beneath her as she took a step away.

  The cooler door suddenly opened and another man stepped into view. He was thin but was muscular, white, with short cropped black hair, and was wearing a shirt that had a smiley face with a gunshot to its forehead. “Looks feisty, doesn’t she?”

  “No less than the last two that came in here acting like they owned the place,” the man replied with a smile. The horrible realization hit that these two had intentionally trapped her; it was a setup. The fact that two other women weren’t in evidence made her blood pressure rise and her heart to thud harder in her chest.

  “It’d be better if you two just walk out that door and leave me the fuck alone, o a disparar tus bolas,” she told them, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. Her finger slipped the safety off as she backed away.

  The two men smiled and kept stepping with her. The man that had come out of the cooler wasn’t carrying a weapon, but his fists were flexing and she knew that he loved to use them on women; knew it in her heart.

  Fuck me, she thought, trying to cover them both as she neared the back corner of the store. The man with the tire iron was circling around as the other kept moving towards her back. She was about to get trapped in a corner and she’d lose her maneuvering room.

  Quickly she tried to think of what to do next.

  The larger man was rounding the corner and she brought her rifle around and squeezed the trigger. Her shot took the man in the throat and he jerked to a stop, weapon falling to the ground, as he reached for the open wound obstructing his airway. She didn’t get a chance to see what happened next, as the man that had been approaching her rear suddenly slammed into her, throwing her back into the shelves of cat food lining the wall. Her back winced with pain as she fell to her knees, gasping for air.

  He was on top of her instantly, the rifle ripped from her hands as he punched her in the right cheek. Screaming, she fought back, digging her nails in the flesh of his face and pulling. The man hollered, his fist coming back down again. Her vision blurred sending stars dancing across her mind.

  “You fucking bitch!” he growled and hit her again in the stomach.

  She doubled over in pain and while she tried to stay away, to kick and fight back, she felt something tugging at her pants and the horror within increased. She heard the sound of the man’s belt and her hands fought wildly to keep the fucker away from her.

  The bastard decided to focus on her wrist and as he drove her legs apart, he brought them together and held them firmly with one hand. Smiling down at her, he continued to work the belt around his waist and undo his pants. “I love it when they’re feisty,” he grinned, shimmying them down to his knees. His exposed penis was erect and hungry; eager to get to work.

  Her mind filled with white rage. “Que Puto Bastardo se corte esa mierda y alimentar a usted!” she screamed, fully intent on following up on it.

  As his hands began to work at getting her pants undone, she desperately tried to break free, but his grip was too firm. Her pants were yanked out from under her and her ass hit the cold floor, her flesh exposed. She kicked at him, tried to make it harder for him to get them off, but he was persistent and within seconds she was naked from the waist down.

  With a sick smile, the man leaned forward, grasped her breast with his free hand, then drove his mouth upon hers as he entered her. She screamed from the pain of his entry and fought with everything she had to stop it, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes and her teeth searching for something to sink into.

  As he began to plunge into her, she managed to free one hand from his grasp, brought her legs around his back, and drove him deeper in. It made her wince but he was pinned. Then, grasping the shelves around her, she laid her hand on a green Perrier bottle. Summoning every ounce of strength remaining to her, she brought it around and crashed it into the rapist head.

  Glass splintered and flew in all directions. The man bellowed in pain as the jagged bottle first scraped, then penetrated his skull. In her fury, she drove it as deeply as she could manage and the rocking of the man’s hips came to an abrupt stop. She could feel him shiver within her as his body convulsed and she kicked her legs trying to get him out of her. It slipped out and a gasp of relief escaped her body.

  The dead man on top of her was heavy as hell, but with her adrenaline and fear driving her, she shoved him off and lay there trying to collect herself.

  It didn’t work.

  With sobs tearing out of her chest, she grabbed her pants and tried to get them back on. Her foot caught in a leg and it was just too much for her. Breaking down at the violation of what had just happened, she put her head between her knees and let it all out.

  She didn’t know how long she remained like that, just sobbing, but after the final hitch of her chest, she turned to the man she had just killed. He lay there exposed, his penis finally flaccid and in her anger, she took that bottle and relieved him of his manhood, just as she had promised.

  As disgusted as she’d usually be at such an act, it somehow returned some of the power he had taken from her and with a smile, she shoved it into the man’s mouth. “I told you I’d feed it to you Puto.”

  She would have nightmares, of that she was sure, but right now, at this moment, it was exactly the right thing to do and it gave her the drive back to get back on her feet and finish dressing herself. She reached back with her leg and drove her foot into the man’s face. She heard teeth come together and knew exactly what the monster was biting into.

  Served him right.

  Then she heard a moan to her right and things began to come back together—the man she’d shot was rising from the dead! She had forgotten about him with all the shit that had just happened.

  Getting up onto his knees, the large monster stared at her with hungry eyes and opened its mouth in a sneer.

  “I’m just not in the mood,” she told the fucker, bringing her rifle up and firing again. The shot took the man at the base of the skull and his head exploded. She took a long deep breath, gave the nasty corpse at her feet a last kick, and started back towards the center of the store. She was still shivering from the ordeal and she wanted nothing more than to get back to the others.

  There was no way she was going to tell them what had just happened, but she needed them around her just the same. She opened the cooler door, intent on taking whatever Rockstars they had with her and stopped dead in her tracks.

  There were four women lying on the floor of the cooler. Three of them had head wounds, their bodies stripped of clothing and had what looked like repeated crusted white stains all over their corpses.

  “Oh, my fucking God,” she muttered, ready to forget the energy drinks and just slam the door on that sickening display.

  A moan escaped from the woman closest to the door and in her fear, she brought her rifle up and prepared to fire. “No more,” the woman said, her body pale from the cold, her crusted lips barely forming words. She was a white teenage girl, probably no more than fourteen, and she was completely naked and covered in that man’s cast offs. If things had been horrible moments before, now they
were ten times worse.

  If she could, she would kill that bastard all over again. Maybe she’d go back and relieve him of his balls as well.

  The long blond hair shivered as the woman struggled to absorb the warmth entering from outside the cooler and she cast about for something to warm her up in. The young girl’s clothes were nowhere in sight, but there was a black heavy jacket hanging on a hook across from the cooler door. Taking it down, she tried to cover as much of the young girl as was possible and tried to get her out of the cold.

  The woman fought her at first, not realizing what was going on and probably thinking that sick fuck was back.

  “It’s all right, he’s dead, he can’t hurt you anymore,” she told the girl, trying to comfort her. It didn’t seem to be getting through, as she continued to thrash against her efforts to move her. She got on one knee, took her face in both hands and made her look at her. “You are safe,” she declared with as much confidence that she could summon; not true in a world like this, but for the moment there were no signs that they were in danger and she didn’t feel like she was lying when she said it.

  Her crotch was stinging from the violation she’d suffered and she winced as she shifted her weight, but what she was going through was nothing in comparison from what this girl must have suffered. One eye had begun to swell and there were blue bruises forming on her cheeks. A tooth appeared to be missing as well. There were bruises all over the woman’s body, but most of them were concentrated on the small breasts that had been exposed and the inner thighs of the young female’s legs.

  “That fucking monster,” she growled, feeling her heart swell with hate.

  The girl seemed to see her finally, her eyes focusing. “Is he coming back?” she asked and Sabrina’s heart broke with sorrow.

  “I killed his fucking ass, he’ll never touch you again,” she told her forcefully and the girl began to weep. Bending her forehead and placing it against hers, she wept with her and their sobs echoed across the abandoned store.