Deadweight | Book 2 | The Last Bite

by Forster, Paul

  “The next day or two, we’ll get you transport back,” he answered. The adrenaline was wearing off and Liam winced as he touched his wounds.

  Charles lips were moving, but no sound came out. Amy walked closer to him and watched his last seconds before his eyes glazed over as he drifted off into oblivion. She never wanted to kill a human again, no matter how dangerous or vile they were. If they were to survive as a race, those few who remained had to be better than the monsters who preyed upon them. She wasn’t sure if what she had done was justice, or just another violent act in a violent world. She tossed the machete and knife at the foot of the bed, having no desire to carry the wretched things any longer.

  “The women, they’re going to come with me,” she asserted. Amy wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “Agreed. If you don’t mind, some of us will want to join you too. We have food, weapons, and medical supplies. We can serve your community,” he replied. Liam had thought about how unhealthy their situation had become. Being with people is what they needed, and they would be an asset.

  “No rapists. Anyone who touched one of those girls is on their own,” she told him. Amy was stern.

  “You want a new society? How about you don’t send out a bunch of armed and trained lads into the darkness to survive at any cost?” Liam said. He knew only a few had touched the girls outside of those already dead. He blamed himself for not asserting himself and making it known it wasn’t right. His silence green lit their behaviour when a few words at the right time could have prevented so much hurt.

  “They attacked those girls,” Amy accused. She wanted a society to rise again and people to be civilised, but it wasn’t.

  “And that was wrong, it was disgusting. They committed crimes, punish them, don’t just leave them bitter and desperate, ready to fall for the shit the next Charles will lay on them,” Liam pleaded. “I’ll vouch for them, they will pay for their crimes. Just let it be for the good of your people rather than abandoning them again,” he implored her. Liam was feeling the effects of his wounds.

  “I’m not sure how much I trust you,” Amy said.

  “We’ll earn your trust and redeem ourselves. We’re British soldiers. That meant something to us, and it will again. So please, just think about it. I need to get this sorted before I pass out,” Liam said. He touched his shoulder and stumbled back a little. “Head back to the women, I’ll get some clean food, proper clothes and a weapon sent up. You let them know they’re safe.”

  They left Amy in the room alone, two bodies and a lot of blood. One monster down, seven billion to go.

  Chapter 56

  His patched together trousers fitted better after cannibalising other pairs to extend the legs. They looked ridiculous, but Kenneth was much taller than anyone else in the village. They had a bountiful supply of clothes, but none for a giant like him. His fatigues had gone through a lot, and it showed. It had ripped in places, blood stains wouldn’t shift. He wasn’t a combat soldier anymore; he was a liked and useful member of the St. Joe’s community. Wearing the uniform he loves so much, especially in its current state, didn’t feel right. His new attire still raised a smile to those who saw him, and he liked it. In these dark times he was more than happy to be a source of light relief for his friends.

  He had made several minor jobs his own, in addition to those more suited to a man of his hulking frame. Every morning he’d check on the chickens, collecting any eggs and bringing them to the store. He’d then pick up an air rifle and try to snag a squirrel or pigeon foolish enough to enter the compound. Any rat that may have desires on the little food they had would also meet a quick death. By mid-morning he’d check the air rifle in for a hatchet and do the rounds through the village, checking for any disturbances and dealing with any hungry intruders. He frequently aided Michael and Jake on supply runs, which grew increasingly fruitless, but as their home-grown supplies increased, it became less important. His stump had healed up nicely, and no longer gave him any pain. The doctor had done an excellent job with his recovery.

  Life was as good as it could be. This small slice of, if not luxury, adequacy felt satisfying. He had many moments to think, shed a private tear when thinking of loved ones no doubt lost and even hoped for a better future. These damned monsters couldn’t live forever. If they survived, in a few years it may be safe to venture further out, maybe other pockets of humanity could unite. Silly dreams perhaps, but he enjoyed them. Without hope of a better world, they may as well have given up when the outbreak occurred.

  Kenneth had his air rifle and was stalking a wood pigeon that had landed amongst a small crop of lettuce leaves. It didn’t care that he looked like a rodeo clown as the .177 pellet struck it in the chest. A small puff of feathers and a few desperate but pointless flaps of its wings before it fell still signalled a successful shot. He grinned, he’d never been one for hunting, but now took great pride in providing for the community.

  “Nice shot Kenny, we’ll make a soldier of you yet!” Jake complimented. He had been watching his friend for a few minutes. Kenneth beamed a smile and gave a mock salute that turned into a single digit greeting. “There are a fair few bunnies up on Jackson’s field by the woods if you fancy it?”

  “Ready when you are joker,” Kenneth replied.

  Jake jumped to his feet and eagerly ran to the stores before reappearing with his own air rifle, a large knife and a hatchet he handed to Kenneth.

  The men walked towards Jackson’s field; it was the closest one to the village, a mere ten-minute walk through the woods. Michael was planning on planting some corn crops there next May. The field had been ploughed and would have been planted up already if he could have made a working irrigation system in time. Mostly cleared, it now made the perfect place to claim a few rabbits for the pot. The men had become close, each unable to acknowledge their feelings to themselves, and definitely not to each other. Both were happy to put their feelings down to friendship and respect.

  They stayed alert as they walked through the trees. At the edge of the woods they stopped and surveyed the field, crouching down. Attention was now switched from looking for feeders to looking for their own prey. Jake pointed to the side of the field 20 yards away. Two rabbits nibbled at stray tufts of grass, unaware of the danger.

  “Think you can make the shot?” Jake whispered. He was confident in his own ability at this reasonably short range with the pellet gun.

  “You watch your own target, kiddo. I’ll take the left bunny,” Kenneth said. Both men raised their air rifles, looking through the scopes, getting their rabbit in the crosshairs. Both whispered, “Three, two, one…”

  Both men squeezed their triggers within milliseconds of each other, sending the tiny lead pellets towards their targets. The two rabbits tumbled over. A few other bunnies ran for cover as the men loaded in their next pellet and walked towards their kills.

  “If we keep this up, you’ll be able to patch you next pair of trousers with rabbit pelts. Fuck, we could make you an entire suit!” Jake laughed out loud at his own joke.

  The rabbits had both received a clean, humane headshot, Jake scooped them up and placed them in his bag. Kenneth stopped and listened. The normally present smile dropped as he strained to hear.

  “What’s wrong, Kenny?” Jake asked. He was concerned by the sudden change in his friend’s demeanour.

  “Shush…” Kenneth began looking into the sky for the familiar sound. The feint engine noise was distinctive, he had heard it many times throughout his military career. The helicopter roared overhead, appearing as if out of thin air close to the treetops until it stopped and hovered above them. “Put the rifle down, get to your knees and raise your hands,” Kenneth demanded of his friend.

  Jake obeyed as he looked up at the helicopter as it descended.

  “It’ll be fine, just do nothing stupid,” he said. Kenneth’s experience of surviving soldiers had been sullied and didn’t know what to expect.

  The Lynx helicopter touched down in the m
iddle of the field as the men knelt down, waiting to see what was going to happen.

  Chapter 57

  Since her incarceration, the pair had been distant emotionally. William had made use of Natasha physically, but he’d barely speak to her during the day. He spent more time than ever in his lab or rounding up specimens to test. Until the last few days, William had always kept the basic feeders away, having them close put his own supply of fresh meat at risk. He would stroll up to any that came too close to the farm and push a blade into their brain. It took no skill or bravery, the other feeders had no interest in him. They were equally useless to each other. Now, however, he was so close to success with his cure, and he needed subjects, having dispatched most of the closest ones. Heading to Thornhurst daily to risk injury or discovery, and most importantly time, was not desirable. It had taken him an hour to lure a single beast into his car and get it back to the lab. He needed a better plan, and the price of butchering one of his human cattle was well worth it. An investment. Dragging the bound man behind his car did the trick. The screams alerted those hungry monsters a meal was close, then the scraped flesh and gore led them to the field. The first dozen who followed the bloody trail all had a taste when finally allowed to enjoy their meal. They didn’t care when the gate closed behind them; they had been treated to the freshest meat most had ever enjoyed. Once the corpse had been stripped of flesh, they were trapped. A few stragglers followed the trail of gore from Thornhurst but were too late for both the feast and the new accommodation. They roamed for a while, then eventually most stood still and waited. Easy targets for William to round up to take straight to the lab.

  He was snagging only the second beast from the field. The lab now had seven subjects, and the girl he’d cured after Natasha’s attack. Every tweak of the formula would use two feeders; one to administer the cure to, and the other to be fed the cured meat. This creature was an older male, maybe in its sixties. It had been turned a long time ago and was emaciated, it hadn’t been a successful hunter. William had run out of cages, so instead now cable tied his subjects to whatever was secure enough to hold them. Its dinner had been prepared the previous day, the freshly cured feeder wasn’t able to stand or do much at all. Whatever brain capacity it had left enabled it to breathe, blink, and not swallow its own tongue. It could not comprehend what was happening, it didn’t mind when its hand was amputated and fed to the skinny old feeder.

  Two fresh meals in as many days. The stinking grey bastard couldn’t believe its luck. Fingers were torn clean off and swallowed whole. The remaining bones were licked clean before being discarded. It wanted more. William wasn’t to be so generous. Now it was the tedious wait to find out if he had failed again. He wouldn’t waste the downtime, he already had his next three solutions brewing, ready to amend them with the findings from his latest experiment. He began getting the fourth solution started, that would take all his attention for the next few hours.

  The feeders in the field had peaked Natasha’s curiosity. William had always been so careful to keep the mindless creatures at an arm’s length, they were far too dangerous to the food supply. She wandered over to the beasts, careful to check that William wasn’t watching. They were unremarkable. They were like all the other slowly rotting, moronic monsters. She walked back to the house and noticed it. Normally his lab, the old barn, was sealed shut. Curtains and blinds closed, doors locked, but not today. He had left a single window open, the curtain behind it pulled back. Interesting.

  As she approached, she had doubts. Was this a test? He didn’t trust her anymore; she knew the rules. Was this just some loyalty test to prove she was still his obedient bitch? Maybe his work had worn him down and fatigue had made him careless. She stopped and weighed up her options. If it was a test and she failed, he would surely kill her. Or he could try. She was powerful and smart, and she would be ready. She was going to look, and if she had to defend herself, she’d rip his damn throat out.

  Carefully, she peered through the window. She wasn’t impressed with the hotchpotch of equipment. Rather than a sophisticated laboratory, it more closely resembled an old science teacher’s private storage unit. His tools were old and grubby. The Bunsen burners looked little better than she remembered from school. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to see the lab, it wasn’t a desire for privacy; it was embarrassment. William was sitting at a repurposed dining table, covered in various beakers and test tubes. He was using one of the archaic microscopes, his back to her. She was wary of alerting him to her presence but assured that he was in his own little world. There were several beasts in the lab; in cages, strapped down or bound to radiators.

  Something was off with them. They smelled almost, human. She strained to get a better look and saw the girl she had attacked days ago. She hadn’t turned. What the hell? She should have become just another monster within hours, yet her flesh was pink and she whimpered. She was scared. She should have just been an unthinking slab of grey monster, but the little bitch kept all of her humanity. The others were thin and looked like death, but they were human. He’d bloody done it, he had his damn cure! She was impressed, but a fresh worry washed over her. If he had succeeded, why hadn’t he told her, and why was he still working?

  William rose to his feet and approached one of the cured feeders, Natasha stood back from the window. She’d seen enough. He had his cure, and he was lying to her. Whatever he was working on now, it wasn’t for their benefit; it was for his. If he could cure the dead, he didn’t need her anymore. He no longer interacted with her, he just used her for sex. She wouldn’t put it past him to cure one of the better conditioned things and fuck that until he found something better. That’s all she was to him now. A slab of meat to shag.

  Natasha ran back to the house and slammed the door as she entered through the kitchen door. She wanted to destroy everything, burn it all to the ground, the lab, the house. Everything. And him, she wanted to reach in and pull his brain out through his eye sockets. Her only decision left to make was to run or end his existence. Her hands shook, and she wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear or just hunger. She raided the fridge to make sure that hunger wasn’t affecting her mind. A small tub of meat was quickly devoured. Her nerves calmed, her anger faded.

  She wasn’t going to leave. Whilst she enjoyed the easy life, she also still wanted the thrill of the hunt. On her own, she could have both. This life was as much hers as his now, and she would kill for it.

  Chapter 58

  They laid in bed facing away from each other. Natasha and William both hugged the edge of the mattress, keen not to get too close to the other. William had come to bed late, as he always did. He had barely spoken to her and fallen straight asleep whilst Natasha lay awake. With the cure now available, she was fantasising about her new life without William. She could hunt, play and everything in between, all the time knowing that when times got hard, she could just cure a mindless beast and eat it.

  Before she made her move, she needed to know for sure the cure was available in a quantity to last her for the rest of her life. As tempting as it was to cut his throat whilst he slept, if it turned out he had little more than a few doses available. She couldn’t possibly live the life she wanted. She was sure he was out cold and carefully grabbed his keys, before she sneaked out of the bedroom, the house and made her way to the lab.

  The low groan of the captive feeders in the field, and those that had gathered nearby, aggravated Natasha. They rarely stopped, and the greater the number of feeders, the more annoying the din became.

  Stepping into the dark lab, the smell struck her. A strong, artificial, nearly metallic odour filled the room. The next thing she noticed was that bloody groan of the feeders, one or two of them making their noise. But there was another sound, whimpering, not from a monster, but people. She looked for a light switch and saw the girl. She was asleep, the quiet, fearful noise wasn’t coming from her. Natasha walked through the lab and looked at the captives, either in cages or bound and secured to something hea
vy or structural. Most were people, all with injuries and missing parts, but they were pink fleshed people. They smelled a little different to a normal human, but still appealing. The last two were feeders in cages, they stank like the rest of the dead. One had part of its jaw missing and was old. Natasha pondered what curing it would do, the injuries were devastating, with it restored to humanity, surely death would return quickly, with a little more permanence.

  She knew what the creatures looked like up close; she wanted to see the cured ones. They made their pained, muffled and desperate whines. They could barely blink, they certainly couldn’t stand. She noticed many had defecated and urinated, laying in their own messes. However grim the sight. He’d done it. They may be severely brain damaged, but they were human. None were plump or fresh, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and when push came to shove, one of these in the belly would keep her going. The cured also seemed to all have fresh wounds, either limbs missing or chunks torn straight from them. Maybe the two monsters were the lucky recipients of the flesh, or William couldn’t help himself.

  The girl smelled better than the others. You can’t beat the real thing. Natasha knew she would finish what she started, the girl would be her first meal.

  The lab equipment was bountiful. Maybe someone with a more scientific mind would have been interested. Natasha was looking for the fruits of William’s labour. Scrawled notes meant nothing to her, she was looking for the cure. She began opening the kitchen cupboards in the lab, but beyond more equipment and the odd piece of crockery, nothing. She popped open the tall cupboard to reveal the inside of a fridge. Her face lit up. Dozens of jars of pink liquid filled the shelves, several syringes were already drawn up and ready to go. Each labelled with a solution number. There was enough of the various mixtures to cure one million feeders. She smiled with relief. He had overplayed his hand and had disrespected her for the last time. She wasn’t his slave, there to service him as he wanted. She was a powerful and intelligent predator. She didn’t need William. His usefulness had ended soon after he’d saved her life, but she had repaid that debt many times over.