Z Children (Book 2): The Surge (31 page)

“Baby,
we have to go!” I yelled the words, yelled them in her face so she couldn’t
ignore them, so hopefully she’d snap out of her desperation. So she’d stop
fighting me.

“No!”
her scream as fierce as mine had been. “No! I won’t leave them!”

She
pulled from me. Yanked her body away so brutally that I know I bruised her arms
trying to hang on. “Consuela! Don’t!”

But
she was already battling across the event space, knocking over chairs that were
still amazingly upright, pushing past tables with food gone cold. “Mamma!
Papa!” She rushed about frantically, looking for the faces that meant so much
to her.

I
wanted to race after her. To try and help her. But I am faced with a drooling
Anita and a child I do not recognize—a four-foot-tall beast with short ginger
hair in a ripped dress sporting more than just mustard stains. Scrambling away
from where I stood, I found myself headed towards the large table that was set
up near the second set of double doors on this level of the church. They also
lead to the gardens. I just needed to get Consuela back. We’d leave, even if I
had to throw her over my damn shoulder and carry her out kicking and screaming.

My
gaze flashed across the room to find Consuela pushed up against the beverage
table with the champagne fountain. The large decorative font swayed as she
leaned. Consuela had found her mother and father, but it didn’t look like they
were themselves anymore. They trudged slowly in her direction, their shoulders
slumped. Her father’s leg seemed broken, dragging behind him awkwardly. Her
mother’s head lolled awkwardly forward and hung like she was a marionette and
her puppet master couldn’t be bothered with operating her neck.

Even
across the distance that separated us, even despite the guttural growls and
shrieks and general sound of chaos, I could hear her whimpers. Her repetitive
string of words—
Mama? Papa? Mama? Papa?
She sounded like a little girl
who’d just realized she was alone in the world.

Anita
was closing in on me now, the little redheaded child twirling about her in a
macabre dance. Every few steps, the girl would pause and bite Anita, taking a
small little chunk of flesh and then spitting it out on the ground like it was
some sort of disgusting game. And Anita wouldn’t flinch. She showed no signs of
being injured. “Anita! Anita, wake the fuck up!” I didn’t curse often, but this
seemed like the right damn occasion to do it, even though I knew she wasn’t
asleep or simply sick or out of sorts. She was way past that. I had the
terrible feeling that there was no bringing her back from this.

There
was no bringing anyone back from this. I felt that fact in my gut like a chunk
of undigested food that refused to be ignored. For some reason, my eyes moved to
the cake then—maybe the thought of digestion, of acidic juices failing to break
down stomach contents—the poor decimated cake that was half still on the cake
stand and the other half smashed to bits across the floor.

And
then I saw it.

There,
amidst the crumbled chocolate and buttercream icing smeared across the floor.

Bright
and silver…a beacon.

The
high-polished cake server with the serrated edge. My mother had raced home for
it as soon as she’d seen the unattractive plastic one provided by the bakery.

I
grabbed at it with quick, decided fingers. I tried not to think about what I
was doing as I jabbed the shining instrument towards Anita. As it sunk deep
into her abdomen, squelching through flesh and intestine, blood escaping from
the new wound, I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes long enough to lean back,
lift my foot, and thrust it into her body so that she fell backwards from me. I
held tight to my new weapon.

Opening
my eyes, I rolled to my knees. Looking down, I saw Anita’s blood on the
handle—it was already turning pitch black.

Focus.
Focus. Focus. Find Consuela. Get the hell out. Don’t look at the bodies on the
ground. Don’t look for the faces of my family, my loved ones. Get to her.
I
knew in the deepest corners of my mind, that I was choosing Consuela, my new
wife, the love of my life, over everyone else that I’d ever cared about.

She
was no longer crying, no longer saying mama and papa over and over again. Part
of me knew she was gone. The other part of me refused to believe that she could
be anything except alive, beautiful, and waiting for my hand to take hers.

When I
reached the place she should be, the place she’d been only moments before, she
was not there. It only took me a second to find her. Not far away. I see her
brilliant cobalt shoes fully displayed. Her legs are a deep amber, smooth and
perfect without the help of hose. Her body is twitching in an unnatural way. I
can only see the hem of her wedding gown. It has been hiked up, gathered about
her hips. There is a red stain spreading across the floor.

It is
a puddle becoming a lake.

It’s
the end of everything I’ve ever wanted.

The
things that were once her parents lift their faces from her body. Her ‘mother’
has been feasting on her right shoulder. Her ‘father’ still grips a chunk of soft
stomach flesh between his teeth. As they begin to rise with jerky, uncontrolled
movements, I run.

I do
it gracelessly, knocking down chairs and skidding across blood splatter.

When I
am outside, I see the chaos within the church is nothing compared to the chaos
on the streets. My mind is a jumble to rival the chaos.

I keep
running. I run and I run until I find myself alone in an alleyway. It seems
like I have traveled forever, but I know I am only a few streets away from the
church, a few streets away from what should have become one of my happiest
memories. A tremor shakes my body, a product of the agony and fear still bombarding
my sanity. Even if I survive this in body, I know I will not survive it in
mind.

A
snarl in the near distance sends me towards the only available refuge—a large
Dumpster, its exterior so badly-stained and covered in filth that I cannot
imagine how bad the interior is. The smell that wafts against my face as I open
the lid is so vomit-inducing that I nearly turn and run for the pharmacy. No
time, though.

The
hungry sounds of the demons are nearly at my heels.

THE GROUP

NEW ORLEANS

They
were a half hour outside New Orleans.

JW was
asleep again—this time on the makeshift pallet on the floor between the
shelves. Bonnie was also resting fitfully; her face leaned against the closed
journal. The pencil was a forgotten tool, rolled away from her outstretched
fingers and hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“I
don’t want to drive closer, Virginia. I know I have to, but I don’t want to.”
Chris had pulled the delivery vehicle to a stop several minutes ago. She and
Virginia couldn’t stop staring at the pile of burned bodies blocking the
roadway. It was still smoldering. And the smell…even the fully-closed windows
couldn’t keep it out.

“Go
around. You know we don’t have a choice.” Virginia yanked her sleeve over her
hand and pressed it to her nose to try and block some of the smell. She was
amazed JW and Bonnie was sleeping through it. Ranger, on the other hand, was at
attention, head tilted up, his nostrils flaring.

“Look
at this!” Chris jerked her hand towards the windshield, as if Virginia needed
her to point out the obvious. “Just look at this! How can this possibly be
safe? If JW was awake right now, he’d fucking agree with me!”

“Language,
Chris!” Virginia found her own voice growing louder, more emphatic. She took a
deep breath and calmed herself.

“Honestly.
Who the fuck cares about what kind of language I use? Besides, that little girl
you’re so keen on protecting is asleep.” Chris didn’t really mean what she was
saying; she was just angry. She’d never been very good at calming herself
down…especially when she was scared.

“You
know I can’t talk to you when you act like this. You have to bring it down a
notch, babe.” Virginia was in the passenger seat; she leaned over, trying to
touch Chris’s shoulder, but her significant other jerked away.

“Just
give me a minute.” Chris’s words seemed to be an attempt at softening the act
of pulling away from Virginia’s caress. “I just need to think.”

“What
is there to think about? Go around the bodies. We’ll find somewhere smart to
hide the van, and then we’ll get what JW needs.” As she spoke, Virginia twisted
in her seat to check on their patient. He was deathly still, pale in the
dimness of the vehicle’s interior.

“I’ll
be going,” Chris’s voice was firm, daring her beau to argue with her.

“We’ll
figure that out once we’re parked and hidden.”

“There’s
no figuring it out.”

“Chris,
haven’t we had this argument before?” Virginia tried to smile, bring some
levity to the situation. The attempt fell flat.

Taking
a deep breath, Chris decided to approach the subject in a different light. “All
of them trust you more than me—” She held up her hand when Virginia opened her
mouth to protest. “No, you know it’s true. It makes sense that you stay here,
by JW’s side. You can reassure Bonnie, talk him through the fever if he wakes
up. Jesus, I think even the dog’s given me the stink eye once or twice.” Chris
nervous-chuckled. “I know I’m not always the easiest person to like, let alone
love. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve
got my issues too, baby.” Virginia reached out again and this time Chris let
her touch her shoulder. For both women, the contact was centering. “But
consider this, JW has taught me more about the weapons. I’ve used them. I…”
Virginia hesitated, knowing her next words would not come across well, no
matter how she presented them, “…I’ve held it together when it got ugly.”

“And I
really haven’t.” Chris nodded, knowing it was true, feeling deflated that she
wasn’t the woman she’d hoped she would be in a crisis.

“I’m
afraid that if you’re the one that goes in, then you won’t make it to a
pharmacy. I’m afraid you’ll die. And then, baby, JW will die too.”

“I
always thought I was the ‘man’ in this relationship.” Chris tossed up air
quotes and smirked.

They’d
often joked about who wore the pants, who led in a waltz, who cooked dinner,
and who brought home the bacon. That’s not really how it worked with them
though. They loved each other because of who they were. Sure, gender played a
role—Chris couldn’t stand the sight of a man’s privates—but an affinity for
pants over dresses was the way a simpleton looked at the connection formed
between two people.

“You’re
the man, alright.” Virginia rolled her eyes and slapped Chris on the shoulder
for good measure. “Can we start driving now? I don’t think moving forward is
any safer than sitting here staring at a funeral pyre.”

Not
saying anything in response, Chris shifted the vehicle into drive and inched
slowly around the pile of charred flesh.

They
drove around for an hour, getting more and more unsettled as each passing
street brought no signs of activity—living or otherwise. Once they got into the
thick of the city, nearer to the marina, driving became more difficult. The
streets were cluttered with the dead, the stench of them wafting from the roads
in visible vapors.

“We
need to park somewhere now. There are too many, unless you want me to drive
over them.” Chris’s throat was thick; she was more affected by the sight of so
much death than Virginia would have expected. She faced it daily at the
hospital, but of course, this wasa much larger scale. Different. It was a
product of brutality.

“It
won’t hurt them.” Virginia was disgusted by herself when she spoke, even though
what she said was true. “But no, don’t drive over them.” She scanned the street
until she spotted an alley that dead-ended into the back of another building.
“There. Totally clear, not even trash cans or a car. Nothing can come behind
you. Back in there.” As she spoke, Virginia leaned forward so she could scan
higher up. They knew the monsters could climb over things; some could be on top
of the buildings. She couldn’t see anything, though.

“I’d
rather drive back outside the city and look for something there.”

“We
were just outside the city, Chris. There wasn’t anything.”

“Just
let me drive you around until we find a pharmacy.” Chris depressed the gas
slightly, grimacing as she felt the front tires begin to rise over a body on
the ground.

“There!”

Chris
and Virginia both jumped out of their skins as Bonnie shouted. She was awake,
kneeling next to Ranger. “Shit! Bonnie, don’t f—” Chris stopped herself before
cursing even though she thought it was silly to save the kid’s ears with
everything else being like it was. No matter what, the kid wasn’t going to be
dreaming about unicorns and ice cream any time soon. “Don’t freaking do that.
You scared the crap out of me.”

“But
look.” Bonnie pushed past Ranger and in between the front seats. “Rx. That
means it’s a pharmacy, right?”

Both
Virginia and Chris looked where the girl was pointing, her finger bobbing up
and down quickly in excitement.

“I
mean, I don’t understand any of the other symbols because they look Japanese or
Korean or something, but Rx always means prescriptions, right? Medicine? That’s
what we need for JW.” A groan in the back of the van punctuated Bonnie’s words.
It was almost so perfectly-timed that it could have been premeditated.

“How
the hell did we miss that?” Chris had the van stopped again, the front wheels
still slightly raised as they mushed into the decomposing body on the road.

“Couldn’t
possibly be because we’ve been bickering more than we’ve been searching the
store signs…” Virginia’s grumble was halfhearted, the tone somewhat ruined by a
tinge of humor. “Back into the alley just for some cover and I’ll walk over,
see if it’s completely ransacked.”

“I
said I was going to g—” Chris’s fingers gripped the steering wheel so firmly
that the knuckles went ghostly pale in seconds.

“And I
said we’d figure it out once we were parked. You’ll be able to see me. That
alley is almost directly across. You be my watch out. Keep me covered.”

Chris
said nothing as she maneuvered the van further up the street and then angled to
reverse into the alley protected on three sides. She didn’t back all the way
in, choosing to keep the nose of the van across the sidewalk. When she shifted
into park, her gaze was drawn to the body she’d idled atop. It was crushed, the
face a splatter of black fluid and grayish brain. Its knees took the brunt of
the other wheels. They were flattened, looking odd next to the still-meaty
thighs and calves.

“I’ll
be right here. If there’s trouble, I’m driving straight toward that building
like a bat out of hell.”

“I
wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Virginia
unbuckled and half-stood so she could tilt over Bonnie and kiss Chris on the
forehead. Reaching back and behind the driver’s seat, she got the M-16. She’d
used it before; she’d use it again if need be. JW’s directions were in her
head, plastered there like he’d spent years instructing her instead of a
handful of hours here and there. Once, she’d accused him of being a typical
man—making everything look and sound easy. Here’s a gun. Do this. Use the gun.
Survive.

But he
wasn’t a typical man. She wouldn’t risk her life, face danger, for a typical
man.

When
Virginia’s fingers gripped and pulled the handle to open the door, Ranger
jumped to all fours, ready to follow. She nodded and slid off the seat, her
shoes padding softly against the concrete. “Come on then.” Only an idiot would
have said no to his company.

As the
two moved into the street, they both scanned their surroundings. Ranger, who
usually took point, trailed a few feet behind Virginia. She glanced at him
once, noticing that his ears were back and the fur along his spine stood erect.
That sight made her blood turn cold, sending tiny icicles of fear through her
veins. There was something out here, even though the streets appeared deserted.

Moving
faster, they approached the pharmacy door. It was unlocked, inviting. Swinging
the entrance open, Virginia strode through, Ranger on her heels. She quickly
appraised the state of the store, a smile beginning to spread across her face.
Some things were gone—the chip display was nearly empty, the ice box only held
only a single line of orange soda—but the important things, the things they had
to have, those seemed untouched.

Through
a small window at the back of the store, the place where the pharmacist once
stood to speak with patrons, she could see shelf after fully-stocked shelf of
medicine. “Oh, Ranger. This is it. JW’s going to be fine.”

But it
was too easy.

Virginia
should have been smarter.

Any
time things are simple when they should be inordinately difficult, one should
know something is amiss.