Surge (5 page)

“Don’t knock the south boys,” Cory drawls from behind us. “Grandpa Ben may have had no teeth, but you’d have lost yours to his shot gun if he heard you insult his beloved Texas.”

I’m too stunned to reply because, hard ass, silent Cory just willingly offered up a sliver of his family history after eleven months with us. The two-tour Iraq War veteran found John and me soon after we started leaving the apartment to gather more food, almost six months after the order to sit tight and wait out the outbreak. He’d been alone, and for who knows how long on account of his refusal to talk about it.

All we know for certain by word of mouth is his name is Cory Prescott; his prior occupation was an army sergeant, and his age of 26. And he’s about as willing to give up more information about himself, as a horse is going to the glue factory; so we’ve given up on asking. But he’s a cool dude, and knows his shit, so we let it slide. His ability to kick our ass with both hands tied behind his back while blindfolded, may or may not be another reason that we leave him be.

The rest we gathered about him was entirely from observation. He’s got a couple inches of height on me with his 6’4” to my 6’2”, but I’ve got him in weight by about twenty pounds on account of his leaner muscle. Cory has a real knack for hunting, is a master at throwing knives; which he gratefully passed on to me, the stealth of a cheetah, and the ultimate bonus? His ability to nail a target, with fatal accuracy, from both long and short range.

Once John’s successfully picked his mouth off the floor from shock, he shakes his head and replies, “I meant no disrespect to your toothless grand pappy, I was merely suggesting we head south before winter. You know, follow the Canadian Geese?” Cory nods to say he understands John’s true motive of going south is to not in fact wrestle his toothless, possibly wheezer grand pappy, but the advantages of climate change. Before continuing, John shakes his head in mourning.

“If only they were as fierce as their birds, they might have lasted longer. Too bad they were so damn passive.” Ending his eulogy, John turns and faces the crowd again. “So, who’s up for a road trip?”

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

Apparently, no one is.

Cries of outrage come from the hen house, a group containing Kelly and her two best friends for life, as of this minute anyway, Marissa and Chelsea. The trio are all in their early-mid twenties and as thick as thieves, that is, until John flashes an undirected smile their way. That’s when it gets interesting. Claws similar to the wheezers come out, hair is pulled, insults hurled, fat lips and crying ensue, which only end when John carts one away for the night. What can I say, he likes the variety, and I like to watch reality TV in real time.

Marissa Souza and Chelsea Adams came as a pair just after Carlos and Oscar. Both were college students when the outbreak began, so they spent the last 16 months in the university’s shelter. The only reason that they left is because the food supplies were finally depleted. They were separated from the deserting group when wheezers attacked the unprepared civilians emerging from the shelter. The girls only lasted because they found a dumpster for them to hide in.

Cory was the one who found them on a supply run and brought them back. They smelt as pleasant as any putrid dumpster can, with Chelsea’s curly red hair and Marissa’s brown, both tangled in knots, their clothes filthy and Marissa having bare feet from having to,
‘sacrifice her poor Louis to those greedy monsters,’
in favor of survival. After they smelled relatively clean, we assigned them to water collecting with Kelly and they’ve been friends ever since.

So, while the hens are squawking that they aren’t going anywhere, I turn to another member of the group. Akio Yamamoto is a second-generation American born Japanese man in his mid-thirties that arrived last month when I found him wrestling a wheezer in a grocery store the next town over. He had been in a bomb shelter in his basement, but similar to Chelsea and Marissa’s plight, he ran out of supplies and had to vacate it. Unlike the hens, he survived for a month on his own before I found him and brought him home.

Having completed his years of residency and worked in a hospital for the two before the outbreak, Akio’s medical knowledge is a highly prized commodity. Black hair hangs slightly in front of the wire-framed glasses that are perched low on his nose, so I can see the wheels turning in those brown eyes without the glare from the quickly setting sun. Decision made, he clears his throat and raises a hand, to which Cory’s ear-splitting whistle draws attention to. Once the roar of the crowd settles, our doctor speaks.

“While the South’s warm weather would be ideal for the winter months,” Akio’s smooth voice begins. “There’s work to be done here, and I cannot abandon a patient in need. It goes against my honor, and my doctor’s oath, so I’ll be staying behind.”

“I can respect that,” I say.

Even though it would have been a greater asset for us to have a trained medical professional in our arsenal, we can deal. Especially with the amount of fighters going with us topping that of the defenseless. Since we now have the twins’ consent, that means we have six fighters being John, Carlos, Oscar, Cory, Danny and myself, Sarah will be the only untrained person in our decreased group of seven.

“Don’t stay on my account, Doc,” Leonard counters. “Old age happens to the best of us, and I can manage. They’ll need you more than I will.”

Akio and Leonard begin arguing quietly amongst themselves before the final member of our group makes her presence known. Victoria’s a twenty-something red-headed vixen, with a bit of hero worship, that’s been steadily following my trail since I saved from being eaten alive by a lone wheezer three days ago. I’ll admit it works in my favor, because what red-blooded, straight male can walk in on a naked, traumatized female lying on his bed and send her away? The poor girl would have been cold in that big bed and all by her lonesome. So, while I got a hero’s welcome, I used a few clever flicks of tongue and hands to prevent her from having nightmares. See, I’m generous.

Alright, cut me some slack here. I’ve been abstinent for over a year out of fear of being caught bare assed and sweating by my baby sister, because it would traumatize her for life, and I’d die a painful death via embarrassment. John didn’t share my sentiments, since he’s enjoyed a nightly fuck fest since Kelly and the girls arrived. I should know since I still have nightmares over the noises breaching through the wall connecting my room to his. Not to mention every trip outside the condo he makes, John comes back with spermicide and a new box of condoms that miraculously disappears in a matter of days.
‘No Mini-Me’s running round this bitch,’
is John’s motto, and has been since he first dipped his wick at sixteen.

Since I’m a man, and I have needs, I grudgingly hit John up on a loan for some rubbers the second the red head presented herself to me on a platter. Not to mention the physical relief after a long day filled with tension, without the downside of a pesky emotional attachment, is just the way for me to unwind.

After a few seconds, Victoria works her way through the crowd with a swish of her hips to sidle up next to me. She wraps her arms tightly around my waist, pressing her chest firmly against mine. With the low-cut, skin tight top presenting her small cup size at the perfect gazing angle without my having to even try, she licks her thin lips before looking up to meet my gaze.

“Do we really have to leave in two days?” Victoria asks and I nod. Tears well up in her pale green eyes and she looks down. I’m not the best with tears, seeing as I have a penis, but dealing with a little sister for sixteen years out of my 23, gives me an edge over others of the male variety. Taking a page from the big brother booklet, I carefully lift her chin and lower my voice to as gentle a tone as I can manage.

“We do,” I answer. “It’s what’s safest.”

“But it’s safe here!” She wails before the tears start cascading like a waterfall in the rainforest.

Goddamn it, this is why I usually leave John to deal with Sarah’s tears. I’m looking for that teddy-bear bastard as I feel her start hyperventilating against my chest. Shushing her as I pat her hair down, I mutter as much smoothing bull shit that I can recall John saying during one of Sarah’s meltdowns.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” I say and start increasing the pace I’m patting her hair back with. “I’ll watch out for you.”

My fingers are tangled in knots of hair at this point and I’m getting more uncomfortable by the second. Searching frantically for some female aid, since I’m pretty sure I’m doing more damage than good, I feel her claws start digging into my chest. Mother, fuckity fuck does that hurt.
‘I need Midol and chocolate stat. I repeat, I need a freaking case Midol and a pound of chocolate, right the fuck now!’

I carelessly detach my fingers from Medusa’s hair and begin to pull back in order to get Sarah to deal with this hormonal shit, or Akio to sedate her. Actually, sedation is my choice after her nails dig further into my flesh than Sarah’s prick of a cat Morris does, to the extent that I’m sure she will leave permanent scarring.

“We still have two days before we leave,” I offer in a final attempt at self-preservation. I’m just about to order the good Doc to inject her with the same dosage as a rhino of our precious drugs, when Victoria’s head snaps back and her breathing sounds normal again. Obviously, I must have done something right.

“You promise?” Victoria demands with a swipe of her hand across her cheek to collect the last few tears and smearing makeup, I didn’t know she even had, across her pale face.

I nod in answer, I’ll promise her a fucking pony that shits gold and rainbows if that’ll get her to stop. With what can only be described as a triumphant smile, she accepts my reassurance before quickly disappearing back into the escalating tempers of the crowd. This leaves me feeling as befuddled as any man can be when dealing with a woman’s drastic mood swings.

It’s official, women are fucking weird. Shaking my head to clear it, I turn my attention back the voices rising to decibels that could wake the dead. Since Cory’s method worked, I give it a go and emit a wolf whistle I’m proud to say had the nearest people, namely Akio and Leonard, wincing.

“Now that I have your attention,” I begin. “How about I tell you all a little story before any of you make your final decisions?” Without waiting for a response, I begin to relay today’s events to the group.

“You all know that Danny and I went on a supply run today. What you don’t know is what happened during something as common as a routine trip to the market. We were filling our packs with as many goods as we could when a wrongly placed foot,” caused by Danny’s horrible attire, “knocked over a display case. The noise attracted three wheezers to take notice. We moved as quietly as possible when we were leaving, but they still saw us and began to give chase.” Understatement of the year. Those bastards sprinted like the Kenyans in the Boston Marathon.

“Three quickly became six within the first block. Six to twelve by the third, and finally, thirty-odd following us straight up to our gate.” Gasps of shock and wide eyes spread around, but there are the few being Carlos, Oscar and Mike, who witnessed them during the fight downstairs, that only fidget uncomfortably.

“With that being said, how about we take a head count of who will be joining us on Thursday?” Four hands go up, belonging to the twins, Whitney and Mike. Leonard looks uneasy, but less firm than he was twenty minutes ago. “Lenny, if you really feel that your old ass is incapable of walking six measly miles a day, then stay here.” Lenny scowls at the remark, just like I hoped he would. That tough ass veteran would definitely not back down to the challenge I just threw down. I add a little more to push his stubborn self onto my side of thinking. “But I thought you were a spring chicken, a man in his prime, the freaking energizer bunny! Not some goddamn elderly cripple.”

“The hell I am!” Leonard shouts at me with a face flushed in anger. “I’ll be going with you on Thursday and be running circles around you, you whoreson!”

I bite back my grin and nod my acceptance to the gauntlet he threw at me. Obviously, he won’t be physically capable of running circles with his arthritis, but we can make arrangements to accommodate for his condition. Be that a cane, pit stops, or days of rest, we’ll be able to squeeze them in since that’s the only reason Leonard doesn’t want to go with us, meaning that Tommy and Akio won’t join us without him.

You can see it in Leonard’s age worn eyes, he wants to join us. That we’ve become family to him in the eight months he’s been here, and from the slight bit of fear mixed into those dark irises, I know that’s also the same reason he doesn’t want to come. He thinks that he’ll either hold us back, or put us in danger. But he won’t, I’ll make sure that he isn’t a burden; he’s an asset to this group. And he is an asset with the amount of work he puts in as head chef, assistant to Whitney, lending a hand wherever it’s needed, guidance counselor and morale lifter. Lenny has affected each of us in some way or another, and it would be like a physical blow to the group if he weren’t part of it anymore.