The chaser growls and snarls. A loud crunching noise fills my ears, followed by something warm and wet that splatters my face.
My eyes crack open.
The chaser goes limp. The full brunt of his bulk tests my will. My body is swollen with adrenaline. I’m on a high dose of fighting for my life.
Lucas yanks the hammer back hard. The chaser’s head moves in sync with each tug he makes. The claw end is buried deep into the man’s skull.
Water splashes to my left. More snarls and growls loom large as I cut my head toward the stream. Another chaser is inbound. Great.
Lucas catches sight of the creature rushing at us. He positions his hand further down on the hammer’s wooden handle. He jerks it hard from side to side. The clawed end finally releases from the man’s cranium.
Chunks of bloody brain matter and bone cling to the jagged ends. Lucas grabs the lifeless man by the scruff of his red and black stripped flannel sweater. He tosses the limp body to the side, discarding the vile creature without care.
He spins on his heels and pulls his arm back. He throws the hammer in the chaser’s direction. End over end, the weighted tool twists through the air. The chaser makes no attempt to dodge the incoming threat.
The face of the hammer slams into the creature’s forehead. Its skull cracks. Blood streams down its disfigured face. The impact jars it senseless and knocks it off balance. Its body stumbles a few more feet before crumbling to the dirt.
It isn’t dead. Not yet.
It squirms on the ground. It fights to get its feet back under it and to continue its pursuit.
Lucas retrieves the bloody hammer from the brown blades of grass.
The chaser shakily gets to its knees. Its head bobbles about like it’s fixed on top of a spring that’s loose. Blood flows freely from the indention in the middle of its head. Its bloodshot eyes glare at me as it reaches in my direction.
Lucas brings the tool to the air and deals the chaser its final blow. The face of the hammer smashes into the right side of its skull. Its head violently snaps to the left. Its bone surrenders to the weapon.
Defunct and lifeless, the chaser topples over onto its side.
I lay there on my back with my hands resting on my chest. My heart pounds relentlessly. Breathing is labored. My head is full of more horrid imagery that has been branded into my brain.
Lucas drops the hammer and turns toward me with a blank stare looming at me. His face is void of any sort of emotion. He shows no signs of anger or rage. He dispatched both chasers without pause. He did what was needed.
He reaches out his hand toward me. “You ok, James?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks to you.” I say, and grab his bloody palm.
Lucas pulls me to my feet. My legs wobble as I rest my hand on top of his shoulder. He holds me up until I gather myself.
“It didn’t bite you, did it?”
I brush my coat sleeve across my face. The warmth of the chaser’s blood is smeared across the dark blue fabric. I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t discern if it’s from the intense ordeal, or if some of the chaser’s blood got into my mouth.
“I don’t think so, but my stomach doesn’t feel well. What if I swallowed some of its blood?”
The world around me seems to be spinning out of control. Fear consumes my thoughts. I’m spiraling into a dark place as my vision becomes hazy.
“James, I don’t think you ingested any of its blood. You’re just coming down off the adrenaline rush,” Lucas consoles. “Here. Let’s take you inside, and let you relax.”
“What about the bodies?” I inquire.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The sun’s strident rays have all but vanished. The dark, rich blackness of the endless ether has enveloped the world beyond the cabin.
The lamps that have been on the floor since I arrived are placed back on the end tables. The dull yellow light beams out from the sterile white lampshades that filter their intensity.
The dizziness and nausea that has gripped me so, wanes. Still, I remain on the couch with my head propped up on the dark red pillow that Mom made.
Lucas insisted that I do so.
Duke refuses to leave my side. He rests on the floor near the couch. Any movement, or shift of my weight to try and gain some comfort, he is there, up on all fours, investigating.
He was always like that. Whenever Cindy or I would fall ill, he would stay glued to us. Another caring individual in our house that always made us feel loved and safe.
I reach down, and rub his head with my forefingers. He tilts his head upward and licks the digits. He gets to his feet and tries to lick me in the face, but I deflect the gesture. The last thing I want is his hot breath blasting in my face. I think he understands.
The encounter with the chaser has zapped me of my strength and energy. Although, I think it was more than that. Was I getting sick? A cold, or even the flu?
The few times that I manage to peel myself free of the couch and make for the restroom, I feel lethargic. I move in a ponderous, slow motion.
Perhaps the virus is mutating my body and turning me into another enraged soul. Will I be damned to walk this world as a soulless teenage demon, hell bent on devouring the flesh of the living?
Dark? Yes, but that is what my world has become.
There is no happiness to be had anymore. I have struggled with that notion for so long and have finally surrendered myself to that fact. The only thing that keeps me going, living, is Mom and Cindy.
Lucas has spent the rest of the day working on the truck, and hauling off the dead chasers he so violently dispatched. Good news is that the truck is ready to go.
He has syphoned off what gas remained in the car and filled the truck’s tank to capacity. Fortunately, Mom had filled the car up, so it sat full of gas. Lucky for us.
Our bug out packs are placed by the door, along with my rifle and Lucas’ shotgun. He raided the cellar for any ammo and other odds and ends that he felt would be required. I refrained from protesting. At this point, considering all that he has done and will do, whatever he wants, he will get.
“How are you feeling, James?” Lucas gently places his oversized palm on my shoulder. He towers over me. Dark shadows plague the ceiling around him where the lamp’s light is unable to reach.
I rub my hand up and down my face. I sit up, and swing my legs to the floor. Duke moves out of way. He jumps up onto the couch, and lies down.
“I feel better. Still a bit out of it, though. Guess it’s safe to assume that I haven’t contracted the virus.”
Lucas smirks. He pats my shoulder. “Well, you’re alive and not dead. So that should be a good indication.”
I grumble.
My mouth is dry. It feels full of cotton. The bumps on my tongue slide across my lips to try and moisten them. “Yeah. Besides, I kind of don’t want to get on your bad side. You dispatched those chasers with ease. Haven’t seen anybody wield a hammer like that before. Brutal to say the least.”
Lucas nods. He pats my shoulder once more. “Just did what was needed. The best way to survive in this world is to be efficient. Know your objective, and follow through. No fluff. The odds of staying alive will be greater.”
I guess.
I glance down at my watch, and notice the time. It’s 5:15 in the morning. “I didn’t realize the time. I didn’t think it was as late as it is.”
“Yeah. You have been in and out most of yesterday and last night.” Lucas walks to the kitchen, grabs a plate from the counter, and brings it over to me. “Here. Eat this.” He sets the plate on the coffee table in front of me, along with a bottle of cold/flu medicine.
I don’t feel much like eating anything, or taking the disgusting medicine for that matter. “I’m not really feeling the saltine crackers and tuna.”
“You might be coming down with a cold or something. That, and you look like you haven’t been eating well. If we’re going to do t
his, I need you at a hundred percent. Otherwise, you’ll be more of a liability than anything.”
I grab the medicine bottle, and look it over. Cherry flavor. Yuck. “Is this dessert?”
“If it helps you take it, then sure.” Lucas lingers over me. His thick arms are laced across his wide chest. His gaze is fixed solely in my direction.
He reminds me of Coach Conner from gym class. Big, intimidating, and didn’t take no for an answer. Most of the kids weren’t brave enough to venture those two syllables for fear of him ripping their head off. For guys like the coach and Lucas, their presence is generally incentive enough.
I sigh, and set the medicine bottle back down on the coffee table next to the plate. “Ok. Fine. I’ll eat this scrumptious meal you’ve prepared. Just how I like to get my day started. Tuna and flavorless crackers. Yum.”
“It was that or sardines,” Lucas sarcastically jabs back. “I didn’t exactly look to spend a ton of time on this. I just grabbed what I could really quick from the cabinets and threw it on the plate. If it makes you feel any better, I added some mayo to the tuna, so it wouldn’t be so dry.”
“It doesn’t, but I’ll make due. Thanks.” My face contorts in disgust as I sniff the canned fish. I was never really big on tuna. I always avoided it when Mom tried to give it to me. Guess I’m eating it now.
Lucas turns about sharply. He heads for the kitchen. He retrieves a glass from the upper cabinets and fills it full of water from the sink. “Drink this. Don’t want you getting dehydrated either.”
I gulp the water down without pause. I wasn’t overly big on cabin water either. It has a strange taste that I don’t like. Dad always told me to stop complaining so much, and be grateful that there was water to drink.
I prefer bottled water, but this is better than nothing. If I had my druthers, I would’ve ransacked the cellar for something more delectable to satisfy me.
I set the half-empty glass down on the table to the left of the plate, and start on the crackers first. The tuna can wait.
Lucas says, “I figured, if you’re up for it, we could head out once you’re done eating.”
I swipe my arm over my mouth, and clear away the crumbs that remain on my lips. “That sounds good to me.”
Duke inches closer to me. His ears stand at attention. His eyes hone in on the plate and the contents that lay before him. His tongue dances along his snout as he groans.
Lucas points at him, then over to the door. “I’ve got some dog food in a bowl over by the door if he’s hungry. You need to eat what’s there.”
Duke looks at me, then the plate.
“You heard the man.”
Lucas walks around the coffee table, and over to the gear he has packed by the door.
“I’m going to start taking this stuff out to the truck, so when you’re done, we can get moving.”
“Sounds good.”
Lucas snatches up our go bags. He disappears out into the blackness of night. I grab the can of tuna, and give it to Duke, who quickly devours the moist, foul-smelling fish.
He licks the evidence clean from his snout and gazes upon me with hungry eyes. With a groan, he paws at my leg.
“Hey, dude, I gave you that tuna. If you’re still hungry, go eat that dog food Lucas got for you over there.”
Duke hikes his hind leg. His head darts down to his private area as if he has a dreadful itch. His teeth nibble. His tongue laps over the smooth skin. It’s so quiet that I can hear each stroke of his tongue. It’s one of the many things he does that always grosses me out. He does this a lot. To me, more than once is too much.
With the room feeling as though it is slightly spinning, I slowly get up from the couch. My movements are slow at first. I hope the odd sensation will wane quickly. I retrieve the empty plate, and take it over to the sink. I don’t bother washing it clean. Don’t see the point in doing so. The odds of us coming back here are slim to none. I doubt Mom would chastise me for doing so.
My stomach grumbles. It’s a hunger pain and not a sickly induced bowel movement. Lucas was correct in his observation. I haven’t eaten well over the past few weeks. I was depressed and had given up hope.
Eating, to stay alive, seemed arbitrary. But all that has changed. At least for now. If I want to make it to the safe zone, I need to gather my strength.
Courage fuels my conviction. Now, I just need some sustenance to fuel my body for the long road ahead of us.
CHAPTER SIX
Over the next thirty minutes, I manage to stuff my face with more saltine crackers, a half a can of peaches, and some chicken breast from a can that was mixed in with some of Mom’s spices.
The hunger pains slowly subside. The weakness that had latched onto me starts to wane.
I sit at the small kitchen table, and look outside the window. Duke and Lucas’ ghostly gray shapes move through the bleakness of night. The brisk morning air flows in through the open door. Duke stays glued to Lucas’ side, escorting him back and forth from the cabin to the truck.
Lucas’ arms are full of boxes that house various foods and additional ammo that he has pilfered from the cellar. He piles what will fit into the narrow space behind the bench seat. I hope he has left some room for Duke back there.
I love that dog, but he can quickly invade one’s space. Like most animals, he doesn’t believe in boundaries.
Glass number four. Or is it five? I’ve lost count.
The strange flavor of the tap water has almost dissipated. After as many glassfuls, my taste buds have accepted this reality.
I cut myself off, and set the glass down. I close my eyes, and absorb the silence that has taken over the cabin. Memories of yester year play through my head like a family home video.
Cindy and I would be playing on the floor, each in our own space that was claimed as our nook of comfort for the duration of our stay.
She generally enjoyed being close to Mom and Dad. Her dolls, and the additional accessories that she lugged around, would be spread out in an orderly fashion. Whenever I tried to mess them up, she’d have a complete meltdown.
Me, on the other hand, I preferred my privacy.
My fortress of solitude was a narrow section between the bookcase and the stairs. Mom hated it when I’d lie over there. She couldn’t understand why a pre-teen needed to have his space. The concept was lost to her. At least, that’s how I took it. I knew she just wanted me to spend time with everyone. “Family bonding,” she would say.
Dad never pressed the issue. Told her to let me be and that I’d find my way over when I wanted. Man, he was so great.
I open my eyes, and glance over to the bookcase by the stairs. Now I wish I had listened to her more closely. I’d give anything for another second of that tranquil sensation. The family togetherness.
A shadowy figure dashes by the window near the kitchen. I lean forward. My head tilts to the left slightly. Did I imagine that?
I blink. Then jam the heels of my palms into each socket. It’s early in the morning. Perhaps I’m still intertwined in some sort of partial dream state.
I search for Duke and Lucas through the window, but they are nowhere to be found. My mind wants to break free, and conjure up all sorts of grisly scenarios that send shivers down my spine. I hold it together and fight the urge to panic. Even though I’m fairly certain I’m not dreaming, an uneasy feeling still festers in my brain.
The chair’s legs scrape along the aged wooden floor. The commotion creates a loud crescendo as I push away from the table. I grimace from the abrupt sharp noise.
I cautiously near the window. Every step I take, the floor creaks a warning signal that sounds like a thunderclap in the dead silence. I pause, then cringe, afraid that I’m creating too much noise. Two breaths, in and out, and I move on.
Peering through the dingy glass, I search from left to right. My gaze flows over the grassy plain before the cabin as the night slowly starts to dissolve. More of the world comes into focus.
I can’t actually s
ay for certain what I saw. It was nothing more than a blur.
I remove my attention from the window. A shadowy shape dashes by once more. The slats of wood creaking, confirming the presence of something with considerable weight. The noise fades off to my left and down the porch.
It isn’t Duke. That much is certain. I can’t imagine Lucas doing any such thing, considering what recently transpired the day before. That, and he doesn’t come across as the joking type. At least, not that I can tell.
I lean back on my heels. My gaze fixes at the wide-open door. Dead leaves are blown in from the wind’s howling gust. Lucas’ shotgun is missing, but mine remains. It sits at the ready, leaning against the wall near the jamb of the door.
I listen for any additional noises. None are heard. Is it a chaser that is toying with its prey? A cat and mouse game that I have been forced into? I have no plans of being the mouse in this scenario. That much is certain.
Slow and steady, I keep to the wall, and move toward the opening. My heart pounds. My hands twitch. Ready for what might be lurking beyond the safety of these four walls, I steady my nerves.
My back presses firmly to the door’s outer edge. I crane my neck, and skim over the porch. No dark gray figures loom within the vast stillness of the wilderness. Lucas and Duke are also nowhere in sight. Where could they be?
Could this be a dream after all?
Three more steps, and the rifle will be in my grasp. It’s a gamble, but one I need to take.
I near the edge of the open door and stop. My back rests flush against the chilled wooden grain that seeps through my jacket. I’m so close, yet, when I go to reach for the barrel, my body freezes.
My feet are planted. Legs refuse to obey my command.
“This is nothing more than a vivid dream. You have fallen asleep at the kitchen table. That is all.” I’m not overly convinced, but it helps stay the fear.
I finally force my body into submission, and move across the doorway. I reach for the rifle, but catch sight of a figure standing on the porch. My head cocks to the right slowly. My fingers are just mere inches from the black barrel.
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