Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (37 page)

Almost
to the top. The first thing I thought of doing, once up there, was
killing a rat or something and eating it. No, not a rat. I wasn't
starving that much. Maybe a squirrel. They looked cuter. Cleaner. I'd
hit it with a rock, and there would be no guilt. It was just the way
of the world, the circle of life. What was the alternative? Death? So
the squirrel lives but I, a being of higher consciousness, die?

Pfft.
I don't think so.

Wait.
Did we even have squirrels in Hawaii?

I
was losing it.

I
had to keep my mind straight.

The
hunger made my head dizzy, weak. I climbed. How was I even moving?
Maybe aliens were controlling me, or at least shooting me with a kind
of power beam. Of course! Yes! That had to be the answer. Thank you,
aliens...you humanoids...you Andromedans...thank you! I know you're
in the Bible. I know you helped make the great pyramids. You care
about me. Thank you!

The
sun bit into my face. No skin cancer, please. I could hear my face
sizzling. I scooped a handful of mud and smeared it all over my skin
– arms, neck, face. Should I eat the stuff, too? I was so
thirsty. That stream. Damn. I should have drank something –
filter the salt through my shirt. That works, right? Sounds like it
might. Maybe I could do that with the mud, and it worked! Sure, they
were little drops, but they helped. No time. I had no time. I was
shaking all over.

So
close to the top then. Food splattered into my mind like shit hitting
a fan. All the time, just food, drink, food, ice cream, soda, cakes,
rice, rice, rice, SPAM.

Then
my ears played tricks on me. I heard electricity snapping.

I
stopped, and my heart beats were in my throat.

A
thing was moving at the top of the hill, behind the trees...searching
and stepping on branches. I was found out! I hit the dirt. She was
going to splash her big mouth on my head and take my scalp off. My
face would be in her pot, looking all sad. I wished her away. I
prayed to the aliens for help. All I had to do was hold my breath and
stay put. I'd just stay there all quiet-like.

Then
I heard a second person, and that made my eyebrow raise.

“She'll
come through here, I know it,” said the woman.

“Yes,
ma’am,” said some guy.

“Where
are the others?” the same woman said.

“I
did just like you asked and sent them all throughout this area.”

Hands
were on me.

I
screamed as someone scooped me up. I was under the arm of a beefy man
that stank cologne.

“Lookie
what I found!” he said. “Can I keep it?”

I
was horrified. “No!” I said. “Put me down! She'll
get you! Let me go!” Again, I felt like I was just wasting
time. I had to keep moving. No one could protect me. Only Mandy's mum
mattered. Only her arms around me would keep me safe. I had to get
out of there. I beat my hands on his back.

The
man grunted.

“No
hitting!” And he put me down.

I
looked around at five people all dressed in black leather and utility
belts, all carrying guns. Weirdos! I was surrounded by Gothic-wannabe
freaks. Nowhere to run. The beefy man looked past me.

“I
always wanted a kid,” he said. “Would prefer a boy. Meh,”
he shrugged. “Can I keep her, boss?”

“No,”
that woman said. She walked through the gang, and it was my asshole
mum. She didn't seem at all surprised to see me.

Nothing.
Except, well...she looked a tad irritated. She had two pistols, one
at each hip. They looked like pirate guns.

Mum
had a big ole cigar between her teeth. Her clothes were not what I
call normal for her. She reminded me of a gogo dancer at a club for
lonely businessmen. Something was very gross about her. I mean, more
than usual.

Mumma
clapped her hands.

“Ladies
and germs...my daughter,” she said.

Everyone
whispered. The beefy man says, “Ohhh, so this is the one that
got you in so much trouble.”

I
backed up.

“I
can't stay here. Pleasure meeting you all,” I said. “And
Mum...I'll see you at home.”

“Girl,
don't you walk away from me.” She said it with such sass.

I
kept walking backwards. “Sorry. I have to go.”

Mum
looked to her army.

“See
what I have to put up with?”

Mum's
men stood in my way. She walked towards me.

“How
did you escape Thedral?”

“Who?”

“The
aswang that took you.”

“The
old lady? Granny? We tried to make our escape, and...”

“There's
more of you?”

“Yes,
there are more of us. She has all these kids, all locked up. Had me
in some dark meat room with this other girl. She saved my life.”

Beefy-man
raised his hand.

“The
aswang saved you??”

I
looked at him weird.

“NO.
My friend saved me. Vol saved me. And now she's dead with the other
kids.”

Mum's
eyes widened.

“Where
are these kids? These little cash cows?”

“They're
all at Granny's trailer home.”

“Granny?”

“Thedral,”
I said.

Mum
walked up and put her hand on my shoulder.

“Take
us there.”

“NO!
I'm not going BACK!”

I
tried to break free. Her hand turned into a vice. I cried out, “I'm
not going back!”

Mum
shook me.

“Take
me to her! I'll kill her! Take me! You listen to your mother, or I'll
shake the shit out of you!”

The
others looked away, embarrassed.

I
pointed back the way I came.

She
tossed me to the side, then paced around with her hand to her chin. I
cried, yeah, but it was because I landed on a rock, right on my ass.
I wanted her to go to the monster. Let her see for herself. Let her
die. What did I care then? Mum.

It
was just a word. She was dead to me.

Beefy-man
walked up to Mum.

“So
this turns into a rescue mission?”

Mum
stopped walking back and forth.

“No,”
she said. “They didn't pay us extra for that.”

She
ordered them all to move out. One of her crew – a woman wearing
shades – pulled on a rope, and three old women (looking like
they were in their 80's) came out of the woods, all nude, all tied
around the neck. Prisoners, I guessed.

Aswangs.
Beefy-man took my hand, and we were off, back down that hill, toward
the stream. There was no point in struggling. This was it. I was
being dragged along, and there was nothing I could do about it.

About
halfway down the hill, one of the old women starts hollering and
bitching, screaming about how we are all going to die. She laughed
the whole time. She's saying this all in Filipino. Mum translated for
everyone.

“Yes,
yes, be warned, fools...” Mum said, not caring, picking her
nails. “Powerful evil. BIG evil here. You all will die.

You
all will see our true power. Big, FAT evil. So strong. Hahahaha.”

Everyone
laughed and turned around, continuing their journey. The old woman
went nuts and tried to eat her way through the rope like a rat.
People were startled by all the ruckas and stopped to get their
footing. Some people slid down some, holding onto branches and
whatnot, hyperventilating and thanking Jesus.

The
beefy man marched up to her and commanded her to stop her
bellyaching, because she was giving him a headache. He pulled on the
hag's yellow hair as he told her what he wanted, and the old crone
jumped up and bit into his nose, pulling it off with a POP! He
slapped his hands over his holes to stop the gushing blood. All the
aswangs made excited sounds and had their mouths wide open, tongues
all wiggling, all trying to drink his mess. They jumped up and down
with their sagging breasts dancing about to-and-fro. I was disgusted.
Beefy-man wobbled away like a drunkard and squatted behind a bush,
balling his eyes and nostrils out. Mum walked up to the aswang and
made to blow the hag's brains out with her pirate gun.

The
girl with the shades hit the gun up. It fired off, the BOOM echoing
over the mountains. A bird above us squawked dead, falling out from a
tree and landing right into the last aswang's mouth – who just
swallows it whole in a satisfying gulp.

I
expected her to give me a thumbs up. The nose-biting witch stood
there shocked, eyes wide, waiting and sorry. She messed up. Now what?

Mum
turned to the girl with the shades, sticking her pirate gun under her
chin.

“You
dare!?”

The
girl held her hands up in surrender.

“Look,
man...each aswang you kill costs us $100,000,” she said. “And
you've already killed five.” She gulped and said, with respect,
“...Boss.”

Mum
thinks, nods, then goes, “Hmm, right, right, silly me.”
But she sounds a tad unsure.

Mum
put her gun away and turned right-quick around, slapping that
nose-eating aswang straight across the face. Everyone winces. The
witch fell back, and all the other witches she was tied to went down
like dominoes. The last aswang hit the ground hard and puked up her
half-digested meal. The bird, all steaming and featherless, tried to
crawl for freedom, but it ended up just sitting there after awhile,
just sitting there on its butt like a human would, too dead to do
anything...just gave up hope. It sighed, and the sight of that bird
was a hurtful thing for me.

I
wanted to pick it up and nurture it – keep it away from these
loons. But I was pushed onward. We were off again, and I walked with
my brain pointed in the opposite direction.

At
the stream, Mum and her men caught fish and stripped them, cooking
the meat with pocket blowtorches. We all ate – and even the
aswangs had some fish. Right, I figured; no way would they let the
monsters die, not with all that money to be had. We had bottles of
water, but we still had to be careful. Mum told us to take little
sips now and then. They nodded.

These
tough guys were all afraid of her. No one argued. Her demands (that's
what they sounded like, demands) were always met with nods. A nod
here, a nod there, a nod everywhere. People moved fast, moved like
people that really believed they were going to be rich. I got another
strange feeling, that these same people would have no problem killing
her, and maybe everyone else, to go home with more mullah. For sure,
I had to get away from those people. I was not (NOT) in the same
field of vibration. I was repelled by them. I could smell the greed
everywhere. These people wanted big houses and even bigger cars. I
saw one of Mum's men sitting by the stream, on a big ol' rock, his
eyes closed with a big smile on his face, hands up, moving them
around like he was driving a car. Awkward. All very awkward.

The
whole time, Mum didn't look at me, not even once. When she handed me
food, it was with her eyes down at her feet. But I kept looking right
at her face, winning in my own way. Winning what? I'm not sure; but
it felt good.

I
thought about running off the whole time.

I'd
do it when the moon was up.

When
night came, Mum ordered the guys to build a quick hut. It began to
drizzle; nothing too major. The aswangs were kept outside, shaking
and weeping, all hugging each other to keep warm. (Damn if I felt a
little sorry for them.) Mum's army slept like little lambs. She
stayed awake, on the dirt, hands behind her head, looking up, not
blinking. She farted once and smiled a little, but that was it, I
swear. Her little army snored – snored LOUD, and that was good,
because I didn't want to go to sleep. I was planning my escape. I
wasn't going to wait for Mum to doze off. The time for action had
come.

I
sat up.

“I'm
going outside to give a piss,” I said.

Mum
said nothing.

Was
she even awake? Was she sleeping with her eyes open? I went outside,
past a campfire, and walked between the trees, finding one wide
enough to hide me while I did my business. I kicked dirt over my mess
and walked back to the hut and found the shades-wearing girl walking
out from behind her own toilet-tree. She sat by the campfire and
shoved a stick through three rats, dangling them over the fire. I sat
next to her. She looked nice enough. With some people you just get
that calming sense. I reached out to her.

“Can
I have some?”

“Sure,”
she said, running a stick through a rat and handing it to me.

I
hovered the rat over the licking flames, and the rat, which I thought
was dead, opened its eyes and cried and wiggled around. It sounded
like an old bicycle screeching to a stop. Then its fur exploded in
flames, letting loose little sparks, and then it was still. I was so
shocked, I almost dropped the thing. I just wanted it to cook fast so
I could get that meat in my sore belly. It felt like Granny's punch
never left my gut.

Shades
girl gave me a bottle of water and reminded me to just take little
sips, imagining that each sip fulfilled me. That was key, she kept
saying, to imagine it working.

“Pain,
hunger,” she went, “it's all in the mind.”

And
it worked! Well, I mean it seemed to work. I handed the bottle back,
thanking her, and I studied her face as she sipped. She must've been
around 19 or so. Something about her told me she'd been through a lot
of crap. She took her shades off, and I saw thick, black lines under
her eyes. She hadn't slept in days. I sneezed. The girl didn't move.
Her eyes were locked on her cooked rats.

“I
hope your soul doesn't escape your body,” she said.

I
shot her a strange look.

“What?”

“That's
what bless you really means. That's why people came up with it all
those years ago.”

She
pulled a rat off the stick and blew on it, sniffing it. She poked her
tongue at it.

“My
name's Janice,” she said.