The Feral Children (Book 2): Savages

by Simpson, David A.

  They should get to safety while they undead were busy reducing the stranger to scraps.

  They stood, weapons at the ready, waited for his command. The battle raged just out of sight, just past the curve in the road, barely glimpsed through the trees. The undead screamed and roared and the sounds of breaking bones and splintering skulls carried to them. The splat and splatter of soft tissue, the hungry keens cut off in mid screech.

  They waited, sick with fear and sick with worry.

  The screams became fewer and fewer. Had they taken him down? Had they turned the only decent person they’d met since the outbreak into one of them? Run! he thought. Run! Tell them to run!

  But he didn’t and neither did they. He stood in the middle of the road, white knuckling his war hammer and his tribe stood with him. The fight raged on, they caught flashes of it through the underbrush. Graying corpses, flashing steel, sprays of black blood, a leather clad wraith slicing through the wall of flesh, bodies dropping and moving no more.

  The wall of noise faded, the hungry cries of a frenzied horde, the cacophony of a hundred starving monsters lessened and lessened until they could hear them as individuals. Each screech distinctive as it abruptly ended.

  There was one last scream, a crunch of bone, then silence. They looked at each other. They strained their ears to hear the sound of flesh being stripped from bone. Of hungry teeth feasting on fresh meat. Nothing. There was utter silence. No birds chirped. No insects hummed. No squirrels chattered warnings.

  A lone figure came around the bend. Tobias and Analise fought the urge to race ahead and engage. There could be more following. Many more.

  The figure drew closer and Donny recognized the gore-soaked stranger first and threw a sign. They didn’t believe it. It was impossible, but they were seeing it. Swan wiped the unwanted tears from her cheeks. She was torn between racing to hug the blood-stained boy and bashing his skull with her tomahawks.

  “All clear.” Bob said. “There weren’t that many of them.”

  They all looked at Donny, who signed furiously. He knew what he’d seen. There had been a lot of them. There had been a hundred if there had been one.

  Bob untied Millie and brought her back to the truck as they watched. He hooked her up quickly, ignored the stares and open mouths of the tribe.

  “Did you get bit?” Kodiak asked, his Warhammer still at the ready.

  “No, they were pretty slow.” Bob answered and tossed his dripping jacket in the bed of the truck. He showed them his arms and they could see no rotter’s teeth had torn through his leather pants.

  “Break time’s over, old girl.” He said as he climbed back into the cab.

  “How many were there?” Swan asked Donny and he signed again. He was getting frustrated that they doubted him.

  “Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Maybe you should sit in when Harper is teaching the little ones about math.”

  He signed at her again and slammed his spear in frustration.

  “No way. One guy can’t kill a hundred zombies. Maybe you need glasses.” Swan said.

  She lost count at seventy as the slow parade passed through the carnage. No one could take on that many zombies with just their fists and knives. They were piled haphazardly atop one another and there were more in the bushes alongside the road. She stuck out her tongue when Donny flashed an I told you so sign at her. Swan looked at the slaughter then at the boy with one hand slung over the steering wheel, the other hanging out of the window. She was certain that Bob’s story about being from a sleepy little village in Canada was a Millie sized pile of crap.

  The old rhino picked up speed when she smelled the familiar scents of home. Vanessa and Donny had the gate open and she trotted through the opening without slowing. Bob was standing on the brakes to slow her down as she headed straight for her enclosure dragging the truck like it wasn’t even there. Kodiak finally got her reined to a stop so he could set her free.

  She snorted, gave him the stink eye and then headed for her pen as the boys helped push the truck towards the maintenance garage.

  Caleb, Landon and Clara stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the armored pickup and tears welled in their eyes as they recognized it. Clara buried her face in her hands and let out a heart wrenching whine. Caleb stepped forward as the truck rolled by and dragged his fingers lightly through the dust that coated it.

  “This is my Daddy’s truck.” He said and blinked the tears away. He wouldn’t cry. Only babies cried.

  Harper and Vanessa moved to comfort the small children.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Harper said. “I’m sure your daddy wouldn’t mind if Bob borrowed it.”

  “Daddy always said we should help people when we had the chance.” Caleb said.

  “I hope he uses it to kill all of the monsters.” Clara said as she forced her tears to stop. “I hate them. I hate, hate, hate them.”

  14

  Truth and Secrets

  By the time Murray rolled into the maintenance shed, Bob had the truck’s battery out. He’d shown him their jury-rigged charging system. It was an old ten-speed bike on a stand with a lawnmower belt attached to the rear wheel. The belt drove an alternator pulled from one of the abandoned cars in the parking lot which in turn charged the battery.

  “It takes a long time.” Murray told him. “You’re going to be on it for hours. That’s why nobody bothers with it anymore, it’s not worth it just to play a game.”

  Bob sighed and turned back to the truck to see what else needed to be done. He and Murray were the only ones left in the shop. Everyone else had drifted off to put away the supplies, tend to their animals or swim in the pool with the polar bears.

  “No generator?” Bob asked as he lay on the concrete, slid under the truck and loosened the drain plug on the oil pan.

  “Yeah, but no fuel.” Murray answered in a harsh tone, “and we haven’t bothered to get more. If you haven’t noticed, we’ve survived by keeping quiet and avoiding fights. We don’t do anything to attract them to us and when we see them outside the gates, we run away. It’s kept us alive so far.”

  Bob looked up at Murray and wondered if he’d offended him somehow.

  “Swan said you took out a whole horde by yourself.” Murray said while he stroked China’s back. The little monkey chittered in pleasure. “That was reckless.”

  “You look like a super villain.” Bob laughed, but Murray didn’t change his expression. He was a little miffed at Bob’s lack of gratitude for all they’d done for him.

  “Who are you?” He asked. He didn’t buy Bob’s bullshit story. “This is my family. My tribe. Are you a danger to them? Who are you running from? Are you going to bring a whole army of people down on us?”

  Bob stared at the oil running into the catch pan. He had a faraway look on his face.

  “Answer me.” Murray demanded.

  The older boy sighed, slid out from under the truck and leaned against the front bumper. He locked eyes with Murray like he was unsure what to say. Murray didn’t blink or look away. He wanted answers. He had a right to know Bob’s intentions. The tribe had a right to know. He’d seen the stranger fight, but he wasn’t afraid. There was no room for fear if there was a threat to the tribe.

  After a long pause Bob wiped his hands on a rag and looked away.

  “Murray, I can’t say much but I need your word you’ll keep it to yourself. You can use what I’m telling you to influence the others but you can’t tell them, okay? Swear.”

  Murray leaned forward, suspiciously. “Why the secrecy?”

  “I can’t tell you until I have your word.” Bob said. “And after I tell you, you’ll understand. It’s important. Just telling you, one person in the middle of nowhere can alter history. Do you understand?”

  Murray started to scoff, the tell him to cut the crap and start talking straight but saw earnestness in his eyes. Whatever it was, the boy was convinced it was important. Murray’s gut told him to trust the stranger.

  “O
kay.” Murray said. “You have my word. I swear.”

  “It’s a heavy burden.” Bob said. “And I’m deadly serious. You can’t tell anyone. People will die.”

  Murray nodded and the stranger looked away, gathered his thoughts and tried to find a beginning point to the story. They could hear the splashing from the pool and the quiet laughter of the tribe. Tobias was threatening one of the monkeys but his voice had an edge of amusement, not one of malice. He spoke harshly but it was all bluster.

  “A month.” Bob said. “You have to keep this to yourself for a month. After that, it won’t matter. Everything will be fine or it won’t, and anything I tell you now won’t make a difference. Agreed?”

  Murray didn’t fully understand the cryptic statement, but his curiosity was killing him so he nodded.

  “Okay.” He said.

  Bob rolled an old dusty stool over and sat in front of the wheelchair bound boy and told an unbelievable tale. Murray listened and didn’t interrupt as Bob spun a fantastic story of time travel, lost love, a chance to stop the outbreak before it began and revenge.

  “I’m not supposed to be here.” He said. “Something happened when they sent me back, something got messed up.”

  He started at the beginning, just a teenaged slacker trapped in detention and how he’d managed to survive, but most of his friends didn’t. He told him about the lonely miles as he fought and bled across the country to make it to Lakota, the great walled city trying to rebuild the country. He told him about the horrors he’d seen and the losses he’d endured. He smiled as he talked about the real Bob, his dog. How they’d saved each other’s lives over and over. He talked with unashamed tears spilling from his eyes about Scarlet, the love of his life and how they’d met. They’d been enemies, then friends, then lovers before she was killed by evil people manipulating him into doing their dirty work. He told him about the Anubis Cult and the man that ran the Tower, about Casey and his raiders, how they were killing, raping and pillaging and eating the flesh of other survivors. He spoke of underground facilities in secret military installations and his plans to save Scarlet and the world.

  Murray was entranced by the story but nearly fell out of his chair when Bob told him about meeting the tribe, how he and Scarlet found the bullet riddled bodies of Tobias, Analise and the polar bears. Murray was on the verge of crying himself when Bob told how they’d buried their bodies in Putnam after defeating the war party of Anubis soldiers in the grocery warehouse. Bob told him he didn’t know if the tribe needed to meet the other Jessie and Scarlet. He didn’t know if it was important in the timeline but if they did, Murray had to make sure it happened after the battle with the Anubis Cult. If the gun fight wasn’t over, the twins would die.

  “You have to keep the tribe away from the warehouse until after the soldiers are dead.” Jessie said. “You can’t let them go there, the soldiers will see if anything has been disturbed. They might be on guard and we might not win. Hell, they might ambush us. They might kill us. They might send a party out to follow your trail and kill all of you. Do you understand, Murray? You can’t interfere with what has to happen. Keeping the twins alive should be fine, I don’t think it will change the future. If it does, I’ll figure it out.”

  The stranger was intense, near manic in his urgency for Murray to understand the consequences if they altered anything. It could change everything and not for the better.

  “I’ll keep them away.” He said “But wouldn’t it be easier to tell them?”

  “Three can keep a secret if two are dead.” Bob said. “You barely believe me, don’t you? Do you think the twins will take the word of an outsider without any proof? Don’t you think Donny or Swan will sneak into town to check it out? The cult may have sent a scouting party, or will send one. It gets confusing, but you have to keep them away, they might be the ones killed if you don’t.”

  Murray slowly nodded his head as he thought about it. They would want to go, their curiosity would get the better of them. Time travel seemed too farfetched, too impossible. He reminded himself that a year ago zombies weren’t real either. Could it all be true? Was a small insignificant group of orphans going to be responsible for saving the world because they’d saved Bob? It was almost too fantastic to believe, but he did.

  “That’s what the belt is, your way to get back?” Murray asked wide eyed.

  “Yeah.” Bob said. Darkness had fallen and it was hard for Murray to see the strangers’ face in the flickering candlelight, but he looked lighter, like sharing the burden he carried eased his own suffering.

  “And if it works, we’ll just wake up in our beds one morning, none of this ever happened?” Murray asked. He had so many questions he wanted to ask and didn’t even know where to start.

  “Something like that.” Bob said. “When I jumped into this timeline, did you notice? Was there a disturbance in the force or anything?”

  “No.” Murray said as he contemplated the situation. “But you didn’t change anything. You just arrived.”

  Vanessa poked her head in the door.

  “Hey you two, food’s ready! Hurry up before it gets cold. You know Tobias won’t let anyone eat until everyone is there!”

  They made their way to the house in silence. Murray thought about all that Bob had said. He wished he could have a chance at time travel. He’d stop himself from getting run over and confined to a wheelchair.

  15

  Murray and Bob

  “You little turds stay out of my blueberries and get out of my kitchen. Go get Bob and tell him it’s time for breakfast and not to drag his feet this time.” Tobias yelled at the triplets.

  Landon, Caleb, Clara and their ever-present foxes skipped out to the garage to fetch Bob. They stood in the doorway silently as they watched him doing something under the hood. They remembered the day Caleb’s dad, their uncle Chris, left to go for supplies and never came back. They’d been on the point of starvation. So hungry that they weren’t anymore. They’d been eating dry dog food soaked in rain water. Chris had died trying to get them something to eat. In a roundabout way it was the reason they were here. It was the reason Caleb’s mom had loaded them all up in the minivan and set off to find him. There had been an accident and she’d gotten bit by one of the monsters. She turned into one herself but she’d managed to get them to the zoo. To Kodiak and Swan and the rest of their tribe. They’d whispered about it under the covers last night and they were glad Bob was taking the truck. He was a good fighter and it was better than having it rust away. They stood and watched until their growling stomachs reminded them of why they were there.

  “I’ll grab something later,” Bob said and waved a greasy hand at them. “I’m not hungry.”

  “But Baaoooobbb,” Clara sang out, “Tobias won’t let us eat without you. It’s his rule.”

  “Yeah,” Landon said in agreement. “Nobody eats if everybody isn’t counted for.”

  “We’re hungry and I smelled pancakes.” Caleb rubbed his belly at the thought of a thick stack.

  “Blueberry pancakes,” Clara encouraged. “With syrup.”

  Bob put down whatever the thing was he was working on and picked up a mostly clean rag to wipe his hands. “Okay. Hurry along, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  They were all pounding their fists on the table when he finally made it. Tobias snorted and slid a plate loaded down with pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of him.

  “Glad you decided to grace us with your presence.” He said and began devouring his own plate.

  After attending to his daily admin duties Murray rolled out to see what Bob was up to. They were in pretty good shape as far as fresh food went and the canned goods in the cellar would see them through the winter months as long as the hunts were good. They still needed stuff that couldn’t be grown and he wondered if the warehouse had pallets of toilet paper. He worried about Swan risking her life raiding houses for a roll of butt wipe. He had thought long and hard about everything Bob had told him. He’d read a l
ot of science fiction, had seen loads of time travel movies and understood how changing anything could affect everything.

  He pushed it to the back of his mind to let his subconscious mull it over and asked Bob if he needed help with anything. Murray loved to work with his hands and had been the driving force behind most of the tribe’s projects. The smoke house and green house, the irrigation trench and the garden layout. He didn’t know how to use the cutting torch or weld and Bob said he’d show him how.

  Murray watched him fire up the torch, drop the goggles of over his eyes and sparks flew from the metal bars. Bob heated sections until they glowed cherry red, then used the vise on the work bench to bend them to the shape he wanted. Murray caught on quick and soon they were working together, him wielding the torch and Bob marking the cuts and bends he needed. They cut into the existing guard on the front of the truck and welded in the newly fabricated pieces. They repeated the process with some of the smaller diameter steel and made a guard over the windshield and side windows. Murray had been good at soldering and welding was the same thing only different.

  “Not as good as an arc welder.” Bob said. “But it’ll do.”

  It didn’t take long before his welds were smoother and better than Bob’s and he took over the torches to weld the pieces in place.

  They reinforced the frame of the truck with angle iron and Bob pedaled furiously on the bicycle powered battery charger while Murray drilled the bolt holes. The day passed pleasantly with easy talk, stories and dreams of the future.

  Murray was good with electronics and Bob asked him to disconnect all the chimes and buzzers and interior lights. Those things will get you killed, he’d said. He replaced all the fuses with higher rated ones. By the time the sun started dipping over the trees, Bob declared it was good enough. Murray rolled back from the truck and admired their work. It looked mean and dangerous just sitting there. The passenger compartment and windshield where safely ensconced in horizontal bars. The front bumper resembled a cowcatcher from an old train. It was perfect for shoving the undead out of its path and protecting the vulnerable undercarriage of the truck. Part of him wished he could throw his gear in the back and go along for the ride.