The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (167 page)

“What did you do?” I asked the question with full recollection of what had happened with Leona – the same monster coming for me – a monster that I loved just earlier that morning.  Such sudden changes turned our worlds upside-down.

“Enrique had passed out,” said Serena.  “The blood had soaked the top sheet of the mattress.  I didn’t know if he was dead, but I had to do something with David.  I yanked the light cover from the bed and tried to throw it over my son, but he had gotten back up and was back on top of his father now, and he was biting chunks of his … you know, David.  You know what he was doing.”

“I know.  That’s enough, Serena.  Shh.”  I held her there, and listened to her cry for her son.

“I may as well finish,” she said in a few more moments.  “Anyway, I was horrified, and I screamed David’s name over and over, but it was as if he could not hear me.  He wouldn’t stop doing that horrible thing to his father, and as I watched him, I realized that if I had been on my normal side of the bed, I would have been the one attacked by him, David.  My own son.”

“No, Serena,” I said.  “Not your son.  Not then.  Not anymore.”

Her body was racked by sobs and I held her.  I was sure the memory of her sweet boy, with whom she had laughed and shared roasted marshmallows just hours before, was a living Hell to remember.  Especially considering what he had become, and how fast it had happened.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” she sniffed.  “I threw that blanket over him, fought him to the floor and wrapped him in it.  Then I carried him into the bathroom and closed him inside.  I still don’t know how I did it.  Adrenaline, I suppose.”

“Did the paramedics or police ever show up?”

“No, of course not.  It was everywhere by then.  I pulled a sheet from a guest bed to wrap around me, and I ran outside to go to a neighbor’s house.  When I got there, I pounded on the door, but nobody answered.  I tried the knob and pounded on it some more – I heard sounds inside, but nobody ever came.”

“So what did you do?” I asked.  “Where did you go?”

“I didn’t even bring my cell phone out, so I had to go back in my house.  No keys, either.  I went back inside, and I was shocked when Enrique came down the hall and ran at me, screaming like … like he was dying and like he was some insane warrior.  And his eyes … they were like David’s.”

“Serena,” I said.  In my heart I wished she would stop.  I had heard and seen enough of these terrible stories, and they never got any better.  I felt this way for a brief moment, then I realized that was selfish.  I was being selfish, if only in my heart.  Serena needed to tell this story, and she needed to tell it to me.  The least I could do was to be man enough to hear what she’d gone through.

I stroked her hair and she continued.

“I avoided his reach and knocked past him, grabbing my robe on the door.  I went out the other hall door and got my phone and keys off the hall table and ran into the garage.  Enrique stumbled after me and I barely got in the car with the door closed before he was pounding on the window.  His neck had stopped bleeding, his skin was ash white, and his eyes were just as dead as David’s had been.  I got the garage door up and I just drove.”

She stopped for a long time.  I knew she
never saw David again.  It was an unceremonious ending to her loving relationship with her 12-year-old son, and she couldn’t have comprehended that when she had shut him inside, that it would be the last time she would lay eyes on him.  It had to be worse than hearing your child had been hit by a car or that they had vanished.  She knew exactly where he was and that he had become a monster.

How fucking horrible.

“The rest of it doesn’t even matter anymore,” she said.  “Nothing mattered from that moment until you found me in Shelburne.”

“What about your parents?”

“My father died when David was four.  Hunting accident.  I went to my mother’s house, David.  I went there and I stood in the front yard and watched her through the window.  She didn’t see me, but she was like David and Enrique.  She had many cats, and that’s all I’ll say.  I never went inside – I saw enough from outside.  If I had gone inside, I would have been forced to kill her, and that was not in me then.  Today I’d do it for the mercy I now know it to be, but then … I just didn’t know.  I was scared.”

“Of course you were,” I said, stupidly.

“So,” she said, “I’ve never turned my mind back there since I drove away, except when I told Gem about it.  I lost everyone I ever cared for in one fell swoop, and by that, I mean David and my mother.”

“What about your husband?” I asked.

“Like I said.  I made a decision the night before.  I had already lost the Enrique I knew as a young girl; the one I loved like a brother.  When he became my husband, he saw it as a license to control me.  He tried.  He did try.  I did not mourn his loss.  I mourned my mother and my only son.”

“Serena,” I said.  “I’m so sorry.  I had no idea, and I can’t tell you how selfish and what an asshole I feel like right now.  Telling you about what happened with
Leona and never even asking.”

“We’ve been pretty busy,” she said.  “I could sleep, David.  I’m exhausted now.”

I knew why. 
I
was exhausted.  I held her tightly to me and in moments, heard her steady breathing.

I did not hear it for very long.  We woke up with bright sunlight streaming through the windows and birds singing in the trees beyond.

*****

              Chapter Thirteen             

The smell of coffee accompanied the bright sunshine, so I cut my quiet time – which is what I called the ten minutes or so that I normally lie there and watch Serena sleeping – in half.

Creepy, you say?  Nah.  She’s beautiful, even when I can’t see her gorgeous, green eyes.

It’s funny.  I read the other chronicles over a period of time, and I realized that Serena isn’t really described in them.  There is a moment in Hemp and Charlie’s chronicle when Serena rides up on a motorcycle wearing a leather body suit, and that’s about all you get. 

Let me tell you something: if you want to picture my Serena, picture Julie Newmar in her Catwoman outfit from the original Batman TV series.  Now take her mask and ears off (save them and I’ll give them back to her later,) give her dark brown, wavy hair down past her shoulder blades, make her curvy sexy and close to six feet tall.  Words don’t quite cut it, but you get the idea.  I’m pretty sure that neither Flex nor Hemp wanted to describe her because Gem and Charlie would kick their asses after reading it. 

Believe me,
both
are capable of it.

“Nelson, dude!” I said.  “How did I not know you brought that with us?”  The propane stove and Folger’s coffee we’d found along the way sat on the counter and a full pot, minus his cup, sat on the burner.

“I like surprises,” said Nelson.  “Thought you might like one here and there, too.”

“Have your morning bowl?”

Nelson looked at me.  “Look at me, dude.”

I did.  His eyes were slits, and his mouth was formed into a thin-lipped smile.

“Okay,” I said.  “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log.  How about you guys?”

“We had a good talk last night, then I was out until  a few minutes ago.  Serena’s – ”

“Up right now,” she said, walking in the room, pulling her long hair back.  “God, I love you, Nelson.  Coffee smells fabulous.”

“You are not alone,” he said, smiling.  “Davey loves me, too.”

“I do,” I said.

Serena poured herself a cup and sat in a chair.  Nelson had rebuilt the fire, and it filled the room with warmth and a feeling of home.

“You can almost forget all the bad stuff here,” she said.  “Nice fire, Nel.”

We drank in silence, and within fifteen minutes, Rachel came out to join us, wearing a men’s tee-shirt that must have been an extra large, because it went all the way to her knees.  She scratched her nose and yawned.  “Good morning,” she said, smiling.  Her freckles bunched together as her smile lines emerged.

We all returned the greeting.  “
Miss Lane must be sleeping in,” I said.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Nelson said, “Man, I almost forgot.  She went out for a run.”

He walked to the door and opened it, and she came inside, put her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath.  “Wow,” she said.  “It’s brisk up here in the morning.”

My mouth hung open.  “You went running?  Are you nuts?”

“Not completely,” she said.  She pulled what looked like a Bowie Knife out of her waistband.  It was in a leather sheath.  “I have this with me wherever I go.  Hadn’t felt like running until this morning for some reason.  Have to wash it.”

“Why, dude?” asked Nelson.

Lola pulled the knife out of the sheath, and it was black and sticky.  She held it up.  “Because it stinks.”

I could not close my mouth.  “Lola,” I said.  “Did you have to … kill one?”

“Three, actually,” she said.  “Look, it’s not the first time.  Remember what they used to tell us after a terrorist attack?  Don’t let them change the way you live?”

Serena laughed.  “This is just a little bit different, Lola,” she said.  “It’s not like these attacks happen every once in a while.”

“Yeah, dude,” said Nelson.  “No sleeper cells, man.  They all just go after your ass wherever they find you.”

Lola said, “Watch.”

Her legs came apart as she planted her feet.  In three lighting fast moves, she jabbed the knife head-height straight out, cranked her wrist and jabbed to the right, flipped the knife quickly in mid air and jabbed behind her over her shoulder. 

“Holy fucknuts!” shouted Nelson.  “You told us you just ran!”

“I run, too.  But sometimes you get cornered.”

“You should get a Samurai sword,” said Nelson.  “You’d kick ass with one of those.”

“I could’ve talked Wayne into giving me one,” she said.  “Already had my knife, and it’s easier to run with.”

“You are hereby tasked with defending the family,” said Rachel.

Nelson went and sat beside Rachel.  “How are you?” he asked.

She looked at him and smiled.  “I’m okay, Nel.  I had a lot of time to think after I went to bed last night.  I know where he is.  He’s at peace.  He’s not somewhere frightened, and he’s not somewhere worried about where I am.  And now I don’t have to worry anymore, either.”

“It’s a great attitude,” said Nelson.  “I’m sure you’ll have your moments.  Be ready for them.”

“Is there a little damned Buddha tucked inside your brain?” she asked.  “Or whatever’s
wise?  Is that a Buddha?  A Gandhi?   Maybe a Mother Theresa?”

The gleam in Nelson Moore’s eye just then told me more than I believe he ever wanted to reveal.

“I’m just a stoner, Rach,” he said.  “That’s about it.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” I said, laughing and putting down my coffee cup.  “I bet you tested off the charts in school.  Am I right?”

Nelson laughed, but he did not deny it.  “I don’t know, man.”

“In
Concord, when everything was going to shit, Nelson thought to fire up a street sweeper filled with urushiol blend and he saved a bunch of people, Gem included.  On the way here, he tells me his simpleminded stoner persona is largely an act.”

“
Okay, okay,” said Nelson.  “I did test off the charts, and I was bored as hell in school.  I dropped out because I already knew all of the shit they were going to teach me.”

“I knew it!” I said.

“Everyone just saw me as
stoner Nelson
and never really gave me any credit for anything else.  I discovered I was cool with that.  Expectations were low, and no matter what I chose to do – and I wanted to try everything – it was cool.  At least I was doing something.”

“What about your Subdudo?” I asked.  “That is an amazing technique.  Didn’t  anyone start to wonder how you were smart enough to come up with it?”

“Dude, it was all theory until the damned apocalypse,” he said.  “The first time I used it on anything but a dummy was with a zombie.”

“No shit,” said Lola.

“And you haven’t even seen it,” I said.

“It’s amazing,” said Serena.  “I’ve only seen it a couple of times.”

“Yeah, after I realized they didn’t care that you were taking them down by humane means, I decided the stars were a better option,” said Nelson.  “Anyway, enough about me.”

“You’ve got a great story, Nel,” said Rachel.  “And a good heart.”

“I care about my friends,” he said.  “More since I met all these guys.”  He pointed at me and Serena.  “They kinda taught me how close people that aren’t actual family can get.  I love them.”

A little knife stabbed me in the heart, and I don’t mean Lola’s.  I got up and as I walked by him, I squeezed his shoulder and he smiled.  Lola was rinsing her bloody knife in the sink using water from a one-gallon, plastic bottle sparingly.

I filled my coffee halfway to leave some for Lola, and turned around.  “Okay.  We need to find my Uncle Bug today.”

“I brought the map,” said Serena.  “We might need to pick up a better one of Dunsmuir unless you can figure out approximately where his place is.”

“Like I said, we have to find somebody who knows.  I have an idea of where to go.  It’s like the first place I thought of, just because of the structures there.”

“What structures?  Log cabins?”

“Logs are tough, but steel’s tougher,” I said.  “These are railroad cars.”

“That’s right,” said Serena.  “You told me about the resort.”

“Yeah, more of a campground, but it’s all old railroad cars converted into little cabins.  Like cabooses.”

“I always liked the word papoose,” said Nelson.  “I wonder if caboose is
Indian, too,” he said.

“I think it’s Native American,” said Lola.

“In your world, maybe,” said Nelson.  “But I didn’t grow up playing Cowboys and Native Americans.”

“Touché,” said Lola, laughing.  “Guess we can toss the politically correct shit out the window.”

I shook my head.  “Anyway, let’s eat what we can and gun up.  Then we hit the road.  I want to be ready for anything.”

“I’ll put together a good backpack,” said Nelson.  “Extra water, magazines, weed, headlights, snack bars.”

“I love how you just threw weed in there, right in the middle,” said Lola. 

“Nobody else smokes, if you don’t mind,” I said.  “Nelson’s a natural on the shit, but I don’t want anyone else compromised.”

“I won’t smoke in front of anyone,” said Nelson.  “Don’t want to make you jealous because I’m treated differently.”

We got busy.  Showers were out, so sponge baths were all we could do.  Nelson had Dial deodorant, so all of us smelled baby powder fresh.

By 9:20 AM we were ready to go.

*****

“Nelson, show us your Subdudo,” said Lola, pointing up ahead.  A grey-skinned rotter staggered toward us, about fifteen yards away.

“
Okay,” he said, but I’m using mostly footwork.  I don’t feel like touching them right now.”

“Screw that,” I said, pulling cloth gloves from my pocket.  I’d found them inside the house and had taken them as a provisional tool.  I gave them to Nelson.  “Go all out, dude.”

“Fine,” he said, taking the gloves and passing me the AR-15.  He approached the zombie from the front and it reached for him when he was about five feet away.

“You see what he’s doing there?” asked Nelson,
never taking his eyes from the creature.  “I call it the hungry reach.  Perfect opportunity to do this.”

He turned sideways and stood on his left leg, thrusting his right leg out quickly, and high.  It hit the creature’s right arm, spinning him counter-clockwise.  Nelson quickly kicked the same raised leg to the left, hitting the other arm, reversing the monster’s spin clockwise.  When the zombie faced away from him, Nelson moved in and gave him a quick chop to the back of the neck, two fast kicks to the inner joint of both his knees, and he fell backward, folding on top of himself.

Nelson stared down at him, took three steps away and turned to face us.  “He’s not really hurt, he just has no bloody idea what I just did to him.”

“Bloody?” I said, laughing.

“Got that from Hemp,” he said, smiling.

“That is cool, Nelson,” said Lola.  “I mean, wow.”

Sure enough, the zombie crawled to his knees and got back on his feet, resuming his trek toward Nelson. 

“Move,” said Lola, walking forward. 

Nelson stepped aside.

She whipped out her knife and as the creature reached for her, she brought the blade down on its right arm, severing it to the bone near the wrist, then did the same to the thing’s left arm.  Both hands hung limp, but it kept coming.  Lola held the
Bowie knife, which had to have a fourteen inch blade, like an ice cream cone, and slammed it into the side of the creature’s head, just above its ear.

Down it fell, like a sack of rocks.  When it was on the ground, she put her
tennis shoe on top of its head and withdrew the knife.  She held it up.

“See?  Blade’s almost clean.  The first ones mess it up a bit, but a direct head stab will pretty much clean the blade, like a fork in a just-baked cupcake.”

Serena smiled.  “We have a cool little group here,” she said.  “I like us.”

Nelson took his gun back – which I was glad he had finally agreed to use – and we continued walking.  The air was a bit thinner than we were used to, and it was uphill, so only Lola was handling it well, with her conditioned lungs.  Nelson was in second best condition, oddly enough.  So much for marijuana being hard on your lungs.

We walked on.  A small plane had crashed into the trees off to our right, and several cars had broken through the guardrail, plunging into the canyon far below the road.  If they suffered massive head injuries, I figured they were the lucky ones.

If not, they were no longer in the wreckage unless trapped there, and in that case, there they would remain forever.  These were the thoughts that crossed my mind.  Sometimes I used them to make conversation, but mostly I entertained them for a few moments and discarded them.

Morbid.  There was enough of that, but humor was still important.  I began thinking about an awkward moment joke.  It had been too long, and I told myself everyone was disappointed because they missed them so.