I’m so distracted in watching her I nearly get taken out by a crawler when it grabs my leg. “Stitch, your leg,” Priscilla calls out and I cut off its hands then lastly, I sever its head.
“Where’d the fifth one go?” Lana questions, turning in a circle.
I do a count and she’s right there are only four of them.
“Guys…” Priscilla draws our attention back to the barn. We all step up next to her.
“What the fuck is it?” Asher says and we all stare at the thing in part awe and part disgust. The woman or what was a woman is as big as a tank but there’s something different about her. Her stomach is distended, and it seems to be moving, like there is something inside her. She lets out a belch that I swear my hand to God is followed by a green fog that smells putrid. Each of us take a step back.
“Holy shit. What’s that smell?” Lana cries, covering her face with her arm.
“I don’t think we should wait to find out,” Priscilla states, and I fucking concur. “What are you waiting for? Shoot it,” she hisses.
Asher hesitates and none of us know why until I turn and see the barrel of a shotgun pointed at the back of his head. “Easy, old timer,” I say coolly. “No one wants any trouble. We just want to get back on the road. We won’t tell anyone that you are keeping zombies in your barn or cutting them up to feed your niece. Just put down the gun.”
“That’s my Martha. She’s sick,” he says, and I think he truly believes that she can get better by the way he says the word sick.
“No one wants to hurt your wife, Mr. We just don’t want her to hurt us. I’m sure you can understand that we are all scared here,” Lana tries to reason with him. However, there is no reasoning with a crazy person with a gun aimed at your oldest friend’s head. He’s not going to help us. He’s buying time to let fucking Martha attack us. With his attention on Lana, I easily knock his shotgun from his hands and simultaneously, Priscilla throws her knife at Martha and Asher side steps to fire his gun. The knife hits the fat bitch in the chest, doing little damage. Asher misses narrowly.
“Fuck this,” I mutter and shove the old man into is wife.
Her massive arms wrap around him and he cries out, “Martha, no!” Her teeth sink in the side of his neck, biting and chomping at his skin until it breaks open. Blood squirts out and bits of flesh and tissue hang from the open wound. Asher fires two shots this time nailing them both in the head.
“We give you peace,” Priscilla says quietly.
Asher wastes no time getting in the now clear barn but there is still green shit coming out of Martha’s mouth. I shudder and avoid where she lays.
The tractor runs fine. There are just two things left to do. Get those fucking cars out of the way and put Holly out of her misery.
—Lana
I follow Priscilla to the house to give Holly peace and see if there is anything useful in the inside while the guys go to get those wrecked cars off the roadway. Cautiously, I open the back door in case Holly has free roam of the place. I’m not taking any flipping chances. She’s no longer seated at the kitchen table or tied to the chair I guess I should say. Gazing around the room, I freeze when I see what looks like a human or zombie torso in the kitchen sink.
“What the serious fuck?” Priscilla whispers next to me.
“Maybe we can just go. The guys won’t care…will they?” I feel ready to throw up. I don’t want to take another step inside this place.
“Sounds like a good idea. Screw this shit,” she says, agreeing with me.
Staying close together we take a step back when we hear the sound of a baby crying. “That’s not real is it?” Footsteps sound on the floor above us and we freeze.
“I don’t know,” Priscilla admits, and dread consumes me. I know we are going to have to investigate. We can’t just turn our backs on a baby and leave it in a house with an undead bitch.
“Crap. Ugh,” I complain, hating every second of this.
“Let’s just get this over with. The quicker the better.” I close my eyes momentarily and nod. I know she’s right, but I am so ready to get the heck out of here. “I’ll go first. You watch my back.”
We move through the kitchen and into the dining room. The table is covered in stacks of old newspapers and there are curio cabinets filled with knick knacks. I think old dude and Martha were hoarders. Everything in here smells musty and old. The living room is even worse. There is basket after basket filled with old magazines. They even have copies of TV Guide. That was way before my time. On the coffee table sits a giant bowl of cinnamon candy. The good kind that is individually wrapped. I pocket a handful and Priscilla shakes her head at me but smiles then takes a handful of her own. I mean it’s not like they are going to eat it or anything. We might as well take what we want. In a way I now understand the mentality of the early day virus looters. The sound of a baby crying echoes through the house once more and so do the footsteps.
The bottom step creaks under the pressure of Priscilla’s boot. Nevertheless, we press on, continuing single file up the stairs. The baby cries again as we reach the top floor of the creepy house. I’m not too tough to admit that I am totally gripping the back of the blue, black, and white checked flannel shirt Priscilla is wearing like a little kid. The footsteps fall quickly moving in the direction of the crying.
I stop Priscilla from going further when I realize what is happening. The crying goes off almost like it is set on a timer. “What?” She whispers.
“Just wait. About three minutes from now that crying is going to start up again.” I can tell she is slightly annoyed, but she pacifies me. We stay in place waiting in a tense silence until I am proven right. The sound of a baby crying plays from a different room and the footsteps start up again. “I think there are speakers or maybe recorders playing to attract Holly. Maybe to keep her busy or maybe he is playing some freaky game with her. I don’t know.”
“Okay but why?”
I shrug. “Who knows. He wasn’t exactly all there, ya know.”
Priscilla frowns and we move past the closed doors and I hope that no one pops out to kill us. At the end of the hallway there’s a room with bars in place of a door and we can clearly see Holly shuffling from one side of the room to the other following the sound of a baby crying as it sounds from different areas of her cell through speakers. She hasn’t noticed us. And I don’t see any way to unlock the door. She was probably pretty and young like us. Her dark hair is matted to her head in a short bob. Patches are missing like she pulled them out. Her skin is turning grey and brown in some spots and flaking away. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, meaning she probably turned sometime during last summer.
“We can’t just leave her here like this, can we?”
“I don’t know. She’s not exactly hurting anyone, but this is no way to survive. What happens when the baby recording eventually stops and no one comes to give her peace?”
I look around us wondering how we are going to get to her without a gun when suddenly a creak at the bottom step startles us both. My heart jumps to my throat. “Prissy, you up there?” Asher calls out.
“Up here,” she cries out. Something about Holly bothers her like it does me. Holly notices us and rushes the bars with her teeth bared. One of her arms slips through the bars, her fingers scratching at us but missing.
Asher reaches us and pulls out his gun. He assesses the situation and sees that Holly isn’t exactly a threat. He looks at me and says, “You ever fired a gun before?”
“I’ll do it,” Priscilla tells him, softly, taking pity on me but I don’t need her to feel sorry for me. I have to stand on my own. I can’t count on everyone else to take it easy on me. I know they see me as fragile and possibly weak. And maybe Priscilla wants to coddle me because she’s afraid I am going to breakdown or maybe because she sees me as her responsibility. It’s sweet of her but I have to defend myself. It is us or them. I can’t go feeling sorry for any zombie no matter who or what they are. They all need eradicated.
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Stitch joins our little party at the end of the hallway just in time to see me pull the trigger. Holly’s blood splatters the doorway and the front of my face. It should bother me. I expected to feel some remorse for her because I’m pretty sure the old dude was up to no good with her but in the end, I feel nothing.
Before we leave this house of horrors, I clean up and change my clothes. I even find a pair of boots, just like I wanted. Percy is waiting at the back door for us and I smile at his return. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me waiting for a meltdown that isn’t going to come as we walk back to the truck. Priscilla and Asher get in the back and I climb up front with Stitch.
The wreckage has been pushed aside and I wonder if that crazy man used it in the past to trap people here and use them as food or bait for his wife and niece.
“You did good back there.” Stitch slides his hand to my knee and squeezes.
“Thanks.”
“When we get to Paradise, I can teach you a thing or two more about self-defense.”
“Cool.” I rub my thumb over his and take his hand in mine as we drive down the gravel road. He doesn’t pull away and I don’t want him to. Eventually though he has to, to drive.
Priscilla and Asher are sleeping in the backseat and we are left to our own private conversation. “How old are you, Lana?”
I was wondering how long it would take him to ask me. “I turn eighteen soon, I think,” I lie. Though it is only by a year. “I have kind of lost track of time.”
“I wasn’t too far off.”
“How old are you, Stitch?”
He smiles to himself. “Old enough to know better but bastard enough to do it anyway.” Shooting me a wink he turns his attention straight ahead. We are back on the highway now and making better time. We have to go around some cars and cross sides of the road, but we aren’t far from Paradise according to him.
I try Paradise on the radio. “Stitch to Paradise, do you copy?” All I am picking up is static though I keep trying, I know Priscilla is anxious to talk to her father.
“We’ll be there by dark,” he promises.
“Good.” I’m curious to see how the other side lives and where they all grew up.
Chapter 5
—Priscilla
We’ve just driven through hell to reach Paradise. A wall of fire and an army of zombies to be exact. I don’t know what I was expecting to find when we arrived home but my father being half-turned wasn’t it. I take in his appearance. The blisters and greying skin. Behind the gruesome nature of his state I can see the man I know and love behind his eyes. My old man is still with us. It doesn’t make any sense, but I am so happy to see him that I can’t find it in me to care. I know he won’t hurt me.
My father pulls me into his arms. His appearance should scare me after what I witnessed in Salvation with that thing Felix called his brother, but my father is different from him. He may not look like himself, but I know under the gruesome effects of the virus he’s still my Dad. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it home in time.”
“We weren’t either.” My lips twitch into a semblance of a smile. “What’s happening outside the gates? What’s been happening here?”
“We’ve been holding those undead bastards off for four days, but their numbers keep growing. Let’s talk inside. Your friend over there looks like she could use a good night’s sleep.” He looks to Lana who is leaning against Stitch for support. Her wheat colored hair is matted to her head. The poor girl has been through so much but she’s much stronger than we all give her credit. She’s holding her shit together rather well for someone who has lost her entire family to the virus. Her mother was the first casualty followed by her sister, father, and brother.
Winter’s bitter chill nips at my cheeks and a shiver ripples through me despite the heat rolling off the flames. I nod. “Yeah. Okay.” Asher is already busy unloading his motorcycle. The sight makes me smile because it is so normal despite the grim scene that surrounds us. The whole perimeter of our compound is on fire. How much longer will the flames last? How long can we hold off the army of zombies threatening to penetrate our safe haven once they get inside? I have so many questions for my father. So many unknowns lay before me as I follow him inside the place that I have always called home. How many have we lost? Is my father the only one of his kind? Percy is next to me, my faithful protector. He seems hesitant of my father as if he senses there is something different about him but he’s not sure if he is a danger or not. At least not yet. I love my father, but I’d be a fool to not be cautious myself.
The scene inside the clubhouse is better than I expected but it still hurts to see the bleak reality. Tables and chairs that were once filled with drinks and members of the club are now busted up and broken down into firewood. The generators are running low on fuel and what we have in storage will be needed to flee should the time come, and I have a feeling it will be sooner than later. We can’t possibly fight off that many zombies.
We may have some of the baddest men to ever walk the Earth, but the numbers are stacked against us. “I know what you’re thinking but go on up to your room. We all take shifts guarding the compound. You’ll be fine.”
“Is my old room okay? I mean for Lana. She’s young and under my protection.”
“Hasn’t been touched since the day you left,” my father informs me wearing a sad smile. It’s been three years since I have been home. I know I should have come home for holidays or weekends, but I couldn’t bring myself to make the trip. I thought if I returned, I would be too tempted to stay, and I guess deep down there was a part of me who didn’t want to see Asher with anyone who wasn’t me. Staying away was my protection but now there is nowhere I would rather be.
Asher walks inside and goes straight to my father. “You should know that Prissy is my Old Lady now.”
My father smirks. “‘Bout damn time the two of you made shit official. I knew if I got you two in the same room nature would take its course.” They do some weird handshake that all guys seem to know, and I roll my eyes at the formality of it all.
“I’m just going to get Lana settled into my room. I’ll meet you in yours in ten?” I look to Asher and he smiles. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’m sure I have something in my old room you can wear.” Lana seems reluctant to let go of Stitch’s hand, but I chalk it up to her being nervous. I can tell by the scared look in her eyes that my father’s appearance makes her anxious. It is understandable because it’s hard for me to accept myself. Seeing him in this condition hurts my heart. My old man has never been vain, but he has always been a handsome ladies man in that rough badass way. He never married but there have been plenty of women come and go who thought they could tame his wild soul. My favorite was Carol Dean. She always had on these crazy print leggings and taught at the local school. If he should have married anyone it was her. She loved him and understood his nature. Eventually though someone else saw her worth and married her. She moved away after that and I hope wherever she is that she had a good life.
My room is up on the top floor of the clubhouse where my father has his private apartment. No one was ever allowed on this floor when I was younger. I unlock the door with the key my father gave me as I hold the mini flashlight that he provided me with between my teeth. There isn’t enough gas in the generators to power the whole building. “You’ll be safe up here. No one will bother you and Percy will keep you company. Make yourself at home and if you need anything, I will be a floor down in Asher’s room.” I shine the light through the apartment and show her around. I still have clothes here that we both desperately need. I grab something to sleep in figuring I can find anything else I might need in the morning. Most of this stuff was from my high school days but it still fits decent enough. My chest is bigger, but I’ll manage. I doubt Asher will complain.
“You grew up here?” Her voice is timid.
“Yeah. It’s not what most people would deem appropriate for a little girl, but I was treated like a princess here. My father’s me
n are my family. They’d give their life for me.”
“I think that it’s nice. My Dad used to talk about the old days before his accident.” The sadness that echoes in her voice cracks when she says the word dad.
I bend down and pet Percy’s head. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll regroup in the morning.”
“Um…where’s Stitch’s room?”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting her to ask but I guess I should have seen it coming since she has been with him non-stop for four days and he’s single and attractive. “His room used to be on the third floor. I can find out if you want.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, good night.”
“Night.”
I leave Lana and the dog to their own devices and go in search of my man. I’m tired and all I really want is to crawl in his bed and feel his warmth.
—Asher
I have so many questions for my Prez, but he is in no mood to answer any of them right now. Feels strange being back here after a year. I spent so much time fighting to get back here and now that mission is complete. I need purpose. I am not used to sitting still or thinking that it is okay to just simply shut off my mind and go to bed. Blade stops me as I start toward the stairs in search of Prissy. “Forgot to tell Pris and her friend. We have portable bathrooms out back. The bathrooms are a no go in here.”
I’m under the impression that things here in Paradise are a lot rougher than Stitch led me to believe. I’m exhausted though and a ready to hit the sack.
“I’ll let them know.”
“And, Ash.”
“Yeah, Prez.”
“Thanks for getting her home.”
Paradise Lost: Wasteland (Sons of Destruction MC Book 2) Page 4