Alex Dutfeld was caught flat-footed. The horn sheared into his chest like a hot knife into butter and he was lifted bodily into the air and shaken as a cat might shake a mouse. He opened his mouth to scream but only blood came out.
Sally Ann screamed, though. A piercing, hair-raising scream torn from her very soul. She would have run to him if not for the hold Billy had on her.
Courtney flew off the porch to go to their aid. She didn’t know what she could possibly do but they were her friends.
The bull gave another toss of it head and Alex’s limp body slid off the blood-drenched horn and plopped to the ground. It took a step toward Sally Ann and Billy, and staggered. It tried another step, and staggered worse. A loud snort, and the monster collapsed.
Billy let go of Sally Ann and she rushed to her father.
Courtney didn’t take her eyes off the bull. Its tongue, lathered in mucous, hung from the side of its open mouth. She wasn’t convinced it was dead until she stepped around to where she could see its head. The left eye was gone, the socket blown away. The left nostril, too. Other jagged holes brimmed with green fluid.
Sally Ann was bent over her dad, weeping. “No, no, no,” she choked out.
Courtney had no idea where her own dad—and mom and brother and sister—had gotten to. She hadn’t seen them since the war broke out. Feeling deep sympathy for Sally Ann’s loss, Courtney put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
Billy picked up the shotgun. He jacked the slide, saw it was empty, and came over. Bending, he reached for the bandoleer around Alex’s waist.
Courtney grabbed his wrist and shook her head. She was about to say it wasn’t the right time when they both heard a noise from the direction of the farmhouse.
The front door was opening.
CHAPTER 3
“Sally Ann!” Courtney said to warn her, but her friend was too overcome by grief to pay attention.
Billy glanced anxiously about and suddenly darted to where the Ruger revolver had fallen when Alex was struck by the bull. Snatching it off the ground, he spun toward the farmhouse.
A face appeared, low down. A pale, oval face framed by stringy brown hair.
“It’s a little girl!” Courtney exclaimed.
The girl stood there, mired in shadow. She showed no emotion. She didn’t call out or beckon.
“Why doesn’t she say something?” Billy said. “Is she scared?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Courtney said. Smiling and holding her arms out from her sides, she said, “Hi there! We’re friendly! Who are you? Are your parents home?”
The girl just looked at them.
“What’s the matter with her?” Billy said.
“Hello? The end of the world as we know it.” Courtney shook her head at how dense he could be. “Duh.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Billy said. “Maybe it’s the gun.” He shifted the Vaquero behind his back and waved with his other hand. “Come on out where we can see you!”
Instead, the girl stepped back and closed the door.
“Stay here,” Billy said, and started toward the house.
Courtney had always been quick on her feet. She caught up to him before he took three steps and snagged his wrist. “Use that head of yours, will you?”
“What?” Billy said in confusion. “What did I do now?”
“It’s a little girl,” Courtney reminded him. “She’ll respond better to me than some strange man who goes barging in.”
“Oh.” Billy nodded. “That makes sense. But you shouldn’t go in alone.”
“Someone has to stay with Sally Ann.”
Their friend was sprawled over her father, bawling uncontrollably.
“She’ll be all right,” Billy said.
Courtney stared.
“What?”
Courtney went on staring.
“All right. Fine,” Billy said. “I’ll stay with her. But anything goes down in there, you holler and I’ll come running.”
Courtney nodded and turned to go but now he grabbed her wrist.
“Take this,” Billy said, and thrust the revolver at her.
“You might need it,” Courtney said. “Other farm animals might have turned.”
“I’ll have the shotgun.” Billy pushed the revolver into her hand. “Take this or I go with you. Sally Ann or no Sally Ann.”
It was heavier than Courtney expected. Nickel plated—or so Alex once mentioned—with pearl grips and a six-inch barrel. If nothing else, she wryly thought, she could club a zombie to death with the thing.
Still, it was a weapon, and as much as she had disliked guns before the world went crazy, now they wouldn’t last long without one.
Hiking her shirt, she tried sticking it under her belt but the gun was so heavy and her belt so thin, the revolver’s weight threatened to pull her pants down to her knees.
By experimenting, she found that if she angled the barrel just right and slid it under her belt at the base of her spine, the revolver held snug between her and the backpack. And she could slide it out easy should she need to.
Courtney hurried to the farmhouse. The curtains remained undisturbed. Not really expecting a response, she knocked. She tried the knob. It was unlocked. She opened the door a couple of inches and said softly, “Little girl? Where are you?”
From deep in the house came a scratching sound that only lasted a few seconds.
“Little girl?”
Courtney pushed on the door. Without lights, it was hard to make things out. There was a sofa off to one side, pulled a couple of feet from the wall, and a chair the other way, and a fireplace along the far wall.
“Little girl? Please answer me.”
Her hand on the revolver, Courtney edged inside. She went to call out and a foul odor assailed her, causing her to cough and nearly gag. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, she ventured another couple of half-steps.
“My name is Courtney? Where are you?”
She heard the scratching again. From somewhere upstairs.
Every ounce of common sense she possessed urged her to wait for Billy and Sally Ann. But the thought of the little girl, alone and undoubtedly afraid, compelled her forward. She was almost to the middle of the room when a door at the far end of an adjoining hall swung wide and something appeared in the doorway—and hissed.
Courtney didn’t waste an instant. Whirling, she dashed behind the sofa and crouched.
The glimpse she had of the silhouette of the thing showed it had been human. The hiss showed that it was now something else.
Listening for footsteps, Courtney scarcely breathed. Most zombies were slow and clumsy. Some, though, were frighteningly fast. Whichever, she was bound to hear it approach.
When over a minute went by and nothing happened, Courtney figured the thing had gone elsewhere. Playing it cautious, she raised her head above the back of the sofa.
Not six feet away stood a woman wearing a dress that was in tatters. She was covered with pus-oozing sores. Half the hair on her head was gone, and the hair that remained was a sickly yellowish-green. She glared about with eyes as red as blood.
Courtney turned to stone. The woman—the thing—was looking the other way. With any luck it would go back down the hall. But no. The creature moved to the front door, so quickly and so silently that if Courtney had blinked, she would have missed it.
Courtney didn’t want to shoot if she could help it. These mutates, as Sally Ann had taken to calling them, were different from zombies. They were lethal horrors. They went after anything and everything, and would as soon rip apart a dog or a cat as a person.
Undoubtedly, the poor woman had been caught in a chemical cloud, probably the same cloud that mutated the bull. She had been lucky in that she hadn’t dissolved into nothingness. Why some people did while others were changed into hideous abominations, Courtney had no idea.
The creature was noisily sniffing the door. She bent to the knob and tried turning it but her hands wouldn’t work r
ight.
Courtney prayed she wouldn’t get the door open. Billy and Sally Ann were out there, and would be attacked on sight.
Moving ever-so-slowly so as not to give herself away, Courtney extended the Vaquero. A shot to the head was all it would take. But she mustn’t miss. The thing would be on her before she could get off another. She sighted down the barrel and put her thumb on the hammer to pull it back.
Courtney couldn’t say what made her glance past the fireplace to where a flight of stairs led up to the second floor. Only the bottom few steps were visible, and a handrail. And there, her face pressed to the slats that supported the rail, was the little girl.
Courtney almost shouted for her to run. If the mutate saw her, the thing would be on her in a heartbeat.
The girl’s features weren’t all that clear, but Courtney had the impression the girl was staring at the woman in great sadness.
Then it hit her.
The woman was the little girl’s mother.
Courtney’s heart went out to the girl. She wanted to sneak over and get her out of there.
Just then the mutated mother turned toward the sofa and gave a sharp bark.
Courtney would have shrunk into the floor if she could. The thing had seen her but seemed surprised more than anything. She should shoot before it attacked but she couldn’t with the little girl there. Not blow the girl’s mother away in front of her.
The mutate tilted its head and sniffed, drops of pus dripping from its chin.
Please no, Courtney thought.
The creature snarled, and rushed at her.
Courtney fired. She hadn’t used the Vaquero before or she would have held it tighter than she did. At the blast, the revolver whipped upward, jerking her arms. The shot intended to core the creature’s head struck the woman in the neck, instead. Pus and gore sprayed all over. The mutate recoiled from the impact—and then came on again, its teeth bared in sheer savagery.
Courtney pointed the revolver and thumbed the hammer but she didn’t have it all the way back when the creatue leaped onto the sofa and without missing a beat, sprang over it, slamming into Courtney and knocking her back against the wall. Steely fingers seized her wrists and teeth snapped at her neck.
Panic lent Courtney the strength to break loose and push the creature away but it only bought her a brief respite. With an guttural growl, the thing bit at Courtney’s arm, at her shoulder.
Courtney swung the revolver, bashing the mutate across the face.
It had little effect.
The creature spread its jaws wide and went for Courtney’s throat.
CHAPTER 4
Thrusting her elbow out, Courtney stopped the mutate’s slavering jaws an inch from her skin. She felt its hot breath, smelled an awful reek.
“Mom, no!”
The shout from the little girl seemed to surprise the creature as much as it did Courtney. They both looked toward the girl, and Courtney’s heart leaped in her chest.
The child had come around the bannister and stood with her eyes brimming with tears and her little fists clenched.
“Don’t hurt her, mom! It’s not right!”
The creature snarled.
Courtney found her voice. “Run!” she screamed. “This isn’t your mother! Not anymore!”
The girl stood there.
With a roar worthy of a lion, the mutate started toward her.
Clinging fast with one hand, Courtney slammed her revolver against the creature’s head. Once again her blow had no effect. The thing didn’t even glance her way. It was only interested in the girl that had once been its daughter.
“Run!” Courtney screamed even as she jammed the Vaquero’s muzzle against the creature’s head behind its ear, and fired.
At the blast, part of the creature’s skull exploded, spewing hair and flesh and bone.
The thing managed a stiff-legged step, then collapsed.
Courtney let go and stepped back. She covered it, just in case, saying to the girl, “I’m sorry! I didn’t have any choice! I couldn’t let it hurt you!” She nudged the thing with her toe, half-afraid it might get back up.
Soft weeping filled the room.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, the girl came toward the prone figure, her hands outstretched.
“You shouldn’t touch her,” Courtney warned. “It might not be safe.” There was no telling what contact with the pus could do.
The girl didn’t seem to hear her. “Mommy,” she said, and blinked tears away. “My mom!”
Courtney moved between them. “You shouldn’t.”
Her face glistening wet, the girl looked up. “My mom,” she said yet again. Suddenly she threw her arms around Courtney’s legs and bawled, her body shaking uncontrollably.
Courtney didn’t know what to do. Her instinct was to lend comfort, but she didn’t like the idea of standing in the middle of their living room when there might be more mutates around.
“I’m sorry for your loss, little one,” Courtney said, patting the girl’s shoulder. “Where’s your dad?”
Between muffled sobs, the girl got out, “Gone.”
“Gone where? To a friend’s? To town? Where?”
The girl cried a while before she said, “Mom killed him.”
“Try not to let it get to you,” Courtney said, feeling dumb doing so. “We can’t stay put. It’s best to move on.”
Sniffling and wiping at her nose with her sleeve, the girl drew back. “Leave my home?”
“There might be more of those things,” Courtney said. “And with your mom and dad....gone....you can’t stay here alone.”
“It’s our house.”
“I know.”
“Mom said to never leave it. That we were safe here.”
“That didn’t work out so hot, did it?”
The girl shook her head, stared at her mother, and began bawling again, her head bowed in misery.
The front door opened and in rushed Billy, holding the shotgun ready to shoot. “Heard a shot,” he exclaimed, taking in the situation. “Had to haul Sally with me. Couldn’t leave her out there. But she kept dragging her heels.”
Behind him, Sally Ann leaned against the jamb, her own face streaked with tears. “I wasn’t ready to leave my dad,” she said bleakly. “Damn you.”
“You can cry your eyes out later,” Billy said gruffly. He peered down the hall, then moved to the bottom of the stairs. “Is there anyone else here?”
“The mother and father are dead,” Courtney said.
“Brothers? Sisters? We don’t want any nasty surprises.”
Courtney could have kicked herself for not asking. She bent toward the girl. “Did you hear what he said?”
“There’s no one else,” the girl replied. “Except Willis.”
“Who?”
“Our dog.”
Only then did Courtney realize that her own new friend was missing. “Where’s Gaga?“
"I didn’t see her outside,” Billy said. “I thought she was with you.”
“God, no,” Courtney said, fearing the worst. She tried to remember the last time she saw her. “Gaga!” she yelled. “Where are you?”
From down the hall came a familiar bark.
Followed by a howl that came from something else.
Courtney’s fear for Gaga was so strong—so potent—she flew down the hall as if her own life were in peril.
She couldn’t say why she liked the dog so much. Gaga was a stray, a mongrel she came across while fleeing zombies in the Twin Cities. They hadn’t been together that long. Certainly not long enough to form a deep affection.
Yet there was something about Gaga. The way the dog looked into her eyes. The way Gaga had attached herself to her. The way the dog was always at her side. Until now, anyway.
And after losing her mother and father and sister and brother, Courtney would be damned if she would lose the dog, too.
She raced down the hall, cocking the revolver as she went, and burst into a
kitchen prepared to do whatever it took to save her new dog.
Only Gaga didn’t need saving.
Over by a table, Gaga was wagging her tail and playfully barking.
On top of the table was a small golden Pomeranian. Crouched low in fear, and quaking, it howled at the ceiling in terror.
Courtney was so relieved, she laughed.
Gaga got her forepaws on a chair and tried to scramble up but lost her footing. The Pomeranian yipped and scooted farther back.
Courtney reached for Gaga’s collar just as a small figure dashed past her to the chair. Clambering up, the little girl spread her arms wide and cried, “Willis!” in pure joy.
The Pomeranian ran to her and commenced licking her face in loving abandon.
“So that’s your dog,” Courtney stated the obvious.
“He’s all I have left,” the girl said, burying her face in its hair.
“What’s your name?” Courtney thought to ask.
“Sansa,” the girl said while nuzzling the Pomeranian. “Sansa Kent. My mom named me it because she liked some show on TV.” Deep sorrow etched her face and her eyes filled with tears.
“Be strong, Sansa,” Courtney said. “We have to get out of here.”
“There’s no one else here but me,” Sansa said. “Now that my mom....” She stopped.
“There was her and the bull and we don’t know what else.” Courtney paused. “How is it the green cloud didn’t do anything to you?”
“Green cloud?” Sansa said. “Oh. That must be when mom put me down in the root cellar. I heard her coughing a lot and when she finally told me to come up, she was changing into....”
“That’s all right,” Courtney cut her short. “Come on. Let’s go.” She was eager to get out of there.
“What’s your rush?” Billy said from the doorway. “There has to be food in those cupboards and I’m starved.”
“Would it be safe to eat? After a green cloud passed through?”
“Food in cans should be.” Billy opened a cupboard, and snorted. “Nothing but dishes.”
“We don’t know what a green cloud can do to stuff in cans,” Courtney said. “Do you really want to take the risk?”
A Girl a Dog and Zombies on the Munch Page 2