Michael looked scared to death as he nodded.
“Dude—you look like you’re going to crap your pants. Buck up, man. We’re all good.”
Michael blinked. He had pasty white skin and dark hair that hung in his eyes, causing him to flip his head to one side constantly. He looked about thirty, with clear blue eyes that easily conveyed the fear he was experiencing. He wore all black with black Doc Martens that had seen better days. “You have no idea, man. I don’t know if I can.”
Churchill frowned, opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. Instead, he bent over and looked into Michael’s face for a moment. He stared long and hard into Michael’s eyes before pulling back and cocking his head from side-to-side like a dog does when it is unsure of what it is looking at.
“Zoe and I will grab the bows and arrows. Be as systematic as you can. Watch each other’s backs. Keep your eyes on the doors. Expect trouble. The eaters don’t want us, but the living sure as shit might,” Roper said as she pocketed the keys. “We stay together until we are sure it’s clean. Given what I found on the ground out there, we could have trapped man eaters or armed survivors. Both are dangerous, so I am going to announce once we’re inside. Stay together but be sure we have swinging room. Be quiet in there and let me do the talking.” She looked over at Zoe who looked grim and determined. Michael, not so much. “Michael, you okay?”
Nod. Blink. Nod.
He so wasn’t.
“He’s just a little nervous. You know, first time out and all,” Zoe said, looking at him curiously. “Dude, suck it up, will you?”
Roper put her arm around him and started to say something but stopped suddenly, as if sensing something wasn’t right. Instead, she turned to Churchill, who caught her unspoken question. He shrugged when their eyes connected.
“No fucking idea,” Churchill muttered, shaking his head.
Neither of them were sure Michael had it in him, but it was too late to back out now. They needed an equal number. Back-to-back was the best way to stay safe.
When the ramp landed, all four scrambled out and made their way to the front of the store. Typical of many shops in various areas of Louisiana, there were bars on the windows. The barred doors were locked, so Roper went back to the Fuchs, attached chains to the bars on the window, and easily pulled them from their casings, knowing full well that the sound would surely bring any eaters in the area.
“Careful,” she said as she exited the Fuchs. “That made more of a ruckus than I would have liked.”
“Let’s get moving,” Churchill said. “This place stinks. Can you hoist me through the window?”
“I’ll go.”
Churchill shook his head. “If shit slides south, you got the keys. Let me go.”
Roper laced her fingers together and Churchill stepped in the cup they made as he climbed through the window. “Anyone here?” Churchill called out again when he landed in the store.
When no reply came, he ran to and opened the front door to let the others in. “Didn’t see nobody.”
“I want to clear it first,” Roper said, and they methodically began cleaning out the store. To her surprise, there were no man eaters in the store and no dead or half-eaten bodies to speak of. It was cleaner than it should have been. “If anyone’s alive in here, come on out so we don’t accidentally shoot you. We are armed!”
Everyone waited for a reply that didn’t come.
“That’s it everyone, start loading her up.”
The front display case was empty, but when Roper opened a janitor’s closet, she struck gold. “Jackpot,” she said to Zoe as they loaded over two dozen crossbows and thousands of bolts into the back of the Fuchs. Back and forth they went until Roper heard the familiar moan and foot dragging of an approaching zombie.
The scuffing along of its feet told her it hadn’t just wandered in, but was after food. That meant one thing: Some survivor ZB was nearby.
Roper took a running start at it and whacked its head off with one powerful swing.
“Fucker,” she muttered, wiping her machete off on the torn pant leg of the zombie.
As she started back in to finish grabbing the last of the bows, she heard more moaning and scraping. Cocking her head to one side, she tried to hear what direction they were coming from.
That’s when she knew.
It was a horde. A big one, and they were coming their way.
Running back into the store, she shouted, “Last load! We gotta bunch coming our way!” When Roper hefted a large box of bolts over her shoulder, she started back to the Fuchs but stopped when she was five feet from the front door. Coming toward her about thirty yards away were at least forty moaning man eaters.
Dropping the bolts, she grabbed both machetes. “Guys? Get on out here. We’ve got lots of company.”
Zoe was first to appear with bat in her hand. “Jesus, Rope, what are they doing here?”
“Must be a survivor nearby––zombie bait––a ZB, because they sure as hell aren’t here for us. There’s someone alive in that store.”
“They look pretty determined.”
“Churchill!” Roper yelled. “We’re gonna need to chop a buncha heads off.” She glanced over at Zoe, who held her bat in front of her with both hands. She looked like a little leaguer on a team called the Pink Punks.
“You ready, Z?”
Her grin was almost chilling. “Always.”
Zoe was the first to launch herself toward the oncoming crowd with reckless abandon. She was a veritable whirling dervish, nearly decapitating one and crushing the top of the skull of another with a healthy and powerful swing of her bat.
It almost appeared as if she was enjoying it.
Roper joined her and a dozen were down before Churchill reached them.
“Where’s Michael?” Roper sliced a head off and watched it clunk to the ground, its teeth still clacking together.
“Couldn’t find him.” Churchill needed two whacks to remove the head of a zombie who looked an awful lot like Elvis. “They’re after someone,” he yelled above the moaning. “There’s gotta be a ZB nearby.”
“Stay by the door, Churchill,” Roper ordered. “In case the ZBs are in the shop. Keep them inside. Zoe, it’s just me and you, sister.”
Zoe grinned widely. Evidently, she was enjoying this. “This is almost as fun as lacrosse!” Like a killing machine, Zoe tore into the growing crowd, bashing away, unafraid.
Roper glanced at the Fuchs and contemplated using the machine gun, but she wasn’t quite ready to hit the panic button and she was afraid the noise would only bring more and deplete their ammo.
That notion changed very quickly.
Suddenly, Roper felt the onslaught of the crowd pushing her along toward the Beast. She and Zoe would be surrounded by the horde if they didn’t move away. It was time to blast this mob so she could find the ZB hiding out somewhere and get them safely into the Fuchs.
Shoving zombies out of the way and hacking those too stupid to move, she stopped dead when she saw the ramp to the Fuchs had been closed.
“What the fuck?”
“Roper, climb up!” Churchill yelled, hacking away at those who split off from the group to move into the archery store. There were easily fifty eaters milling about, moaning. Half were moving toward the store, the other half, toward the Beast.
“Shit. Zoe!” Roper called, jumping on the ladder of the Fuchs and peering over the crowd. “Get to the Beast!” Roper watched as Zoe bashed one head, whirled toward the Beast, and beat down two more. She was mighty for her size and Roper admired her spunk.
From her position on the ladder, Roper cleaved as many heads as she could, but her arms were tiring. This was going south, and fast, as more eaters joined the growing mob. She needed to get into the—.
THWUP.
The sound gave Roper pause.
THWUP. THWUP. THWUP.
The zombies around the Fuchs began dropping to the ground, arrows sticking out of their heads.
&nbs
p; THWUP.
THWUP. THWUP.
Someone from the roof of the archery shop was picking off the zombies with unerring accuracy. The arrows came so quickly, Roper was certain there was more than one person doing the shooting.
“Zoe, get over here! We’ve got backup!” Roper’s machetes felt like lead pipes in her hands as she created a path for Zoe, who was slowing down herself.
Churchill managed to keep the eaters from getting by him and into the store, but even his thick arms were getting slower.
“What the fuck is right!” Zoe growled, climbing up the ladder. She was covered in old blood—a maroonish color that was thick like syrup with various types of bodily detritus stuck in it.
Roper pointed to the roof. “Someone’s covering us!” Roper squinted toward the roof, but she couldn’t see anyone.
Zoe nodded before bashing another head. “I see that. I was asking why the fuck is the ramp closed up?”
Roper gritted her teeth as she answered, “I think I know why, but come on. Let’s finish this.”
The thwuping sounds continued for another minute, and the two women leapt off the Beast and began lopping off heads of the remaining zombies near the Fuchs and the front door of the store while the arrows continued finding their marks on the eaters furthest away. Few missed their intended target.
When the final zombie fell with an arrow through the temple, Roper and Zoe collapsed against the Beast, their arms throbbing, their clothes splattered with blood and brains.
“I couldn’t lift a hand to brush off dandruff flakes,” Zoe said softly. “I’m wiped.”
Roper rose and offered a hand to Zoe, who took it and rose slowly as well. Bodies and heads lay all around them, most with an arrow or bolt protruding from the head, some cleaved in two or crushed in with a bat. All were truly dead.
“Whoever it is is a fine shot,” Roper said, pulling her keys out. “And whoever caused this mess is in for a shit load of trouble…did I say shit load? I mean boat load. Big boat.” Roper called out to Churchill. “Churchill? You good?”
“Yes, ma’am, but no sign of Michael. Want me to—”
“No, no. Stay where you are. I know where he is.”
Just as Roper turned for the Fuchs’s door, there came an unfamiliar voice.
“Stop where you are, ma’am. We don’t wanna kill any humans, but seein’ as you busted into our place and stole our weapons, the least you can do is answer some questions.”
Roper laid her machetes on the ground and nodded to Zoe and Churchill to do the same with their weapons. All three raised their hands in surrender.
“Who am I speaking with?” Roper asked.
“I’ll ask the questions. Who’s your leader?”
Roper covered her eyes and tried to see who was on the roof. “My name is Roper.”
“Well, Roper, if you’d kindly move to the front of the vehicle, I’ll come down to have a little face-to-face. Please have your people stand to the side. Should they make a move, they’ll end up just like one of those things. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Roper motioned for Zoe and Churchill to stand aside. As soon as they were out of the way, a shortish man built like a bulldog approached Roper from the doorway. He was armed with a crossbow and carried multiple quivers on his body, including boots with built-in quivers. He looked like something out of a science fiction rendition of Snow White.
“Fletcher’s the only name I go by now,” he said by way of introduction. “And I want to know how it is those things didn’t eat the three of you alive?”
Roper looked up at the roof but saw nothing. “Why is that important? If you want your shit back, just say so. Otherwise, we’ll be on our way. We don’t want any trouble.”
Fletcher stepped closer. He had a nose made of Silly Putty that sniffed the air like a dog. “You’re either incredibly brave or really stupid.”
Roper closed the gap and looked down into his face. “Maybe a little of both, and we didn’t come to steal someone’s stuff. We doubted anyone human was still in New Orleans.”
“As you can see, you’re wrong.”
“Yeah, well, we sure as shit don’t owe you any explanations. We’ll just give you your things back—”
He held up his hand. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. Maybe I should start again. I didn’t mean for it to sound like an interrogation. I watched you three dismantle those creatures before they went nuts over the fella who jumped into that grand vehicle of yours. I’ve never seen nothin’ like it. They didn’t even notice you. What’s your secret?”
Roper motioned for the other two to join her. She decided truth was the better part of valor. “In two words, Mr. Fletcher, we’re gay.”
Fletcher frowned. “You’re joking, right?”
All three shook their heads. “No sir, we’re not.” Roper proceeded to explain the genetic coding they believed was responsible for the lack of aggression from the zombies. The entire time, Fletcher just slowly shook his head.
“You don’t believe any of this, do you?”
“Honey, all I know is them things never took a second look at the three of you. It was like you were invisible.”
“Well, we’re setting up base camp at Angola and intend on going on the offensive with our gay army.”
“Garmy,” Churchill added, grinning. “It’s a great name for our gay army.”
“Mind telling me how you’ve managed to stay alive in the city for almost a year? We haven’t seen a living soul in months.”
Roper took note of the pronoun. “You’re kidding.”
Fletcher’s shoulders sagged slightly as he told his story. “As soon as the outbreak occurred, we closed up shop and headed to the eight-foot by eight-foot safe my daddy built during the war. It’s hidden behind the false wall with the bows on it.”
“You’ve been hiding in here for a year?” Zoe asked incredulously.
Fletcher nodded and ran his hand over his hair. “At first, it was easy. We had enough food and water for a month.”
Roper addressed the pronoun. “We?”
Fletcher looked up at the roof. “Me and my son. We rationed and stayed down for two months. By the time we resurfaced, the whole city had gone to hell in a hand basket, so we collected dry goods from neighboring stores and snuck out at night to get water.”
“You’ve been on your own all this time? Just the two of you?”
Fletcher yelled for his son to come down. “Hunter, that’s my son, has been begging me to let him go out and find others. He was certain there were survivors, but I was too afraid to let him go.”
“As you can see, he was right. There are many of us. The problem is that we are scattered all about, making it difficult to band together to fight them.”
Hunter suddenly appeared, his face lighting up when he saw Churchill. Roper noticed the look passing between them, and took note of how handsome Hunter was. He had curly blonde hair, deep blue eyes and clearly took after his mother, as he looked nothing like his surly father.
With introductions made, Roper returned her attention to Fletcher. “So you came out when you heard all the noise?”
“It’s been so quiet lately. They…they seem to be headed northeast. Suddenly, there weren’t as many around. I assumed it was because there was no more food for them.”
Roper nodded. “You got that right. There is a military zone in the northeast. As the survivors head up there, so do the man eaters.”
“So you’re not going?”
“We’re not. We’re going to set up a base at Angola, build an army, get people stronger and healthier, and then fight back.”
“Fight back?” This came from Hunter, who looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. He wore his blonde hair short and swept to the side. His eyes were serious and keen like an eagle’s and never stopped moving. He stood several inches taller than his father. “I dig that idea.”
Fletcher pulled a bolt, loaded it, and fired it into the forehead of an approaching zomb
ie. “Hunter has his own tale to tell, but let’s not do it out here. They’re moving in and we need to collect the arrows and bolts.”
Roper nodded to Churchill and Zoe, who immediately started pulling the arrows from the zombies’s heads.
When Fletcher contemplated going back into the shop, Roper stood closer to him. “You’re more than welcome to have a seat in the Beast. I think we’ll be a bit safer there for the time being.”
“That’ll work.”
As Roper went to the front of the Fuchs, Churchill stepped with her and asked, “You know that asshole is in there, right? Hiding like a fucking mouse.”
Roper turned and smiled softly. “I am well aware. And we’ll deal with him later. Right now, we are on the verge of attaining two excellent shooters. That’s more important.”
“Later? That asswipe locked us out! I thought you’d want to kick his ass into tomorrow.”
Roper leaned closer. “Did you see what sharpshooters those two are? I want them to come with us. I don’t have time to worry about Michael’s cowardly choices, because right now, we’ve got an army to build and I think we can build it on the backs of those two men.”
****
They’d taken longer to get out of the bayou than planned, and Butcher was showing her irritation by barking at everyone who moved too slowly for her.
“What is the matter with you?” Luke yelled after Butcher jumped down the throat of one of their charges after she found her dangling her feet from the deck.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she snapped, moving aft to make sure all was clear behind them. Although the man eaters could not climb onto a ship from the water, she refused to become complacent. Complacency meant death.
“Why do you keep shutting me out? Have I said something or done something—”
Wheeling at him, Butcher yelled, “Done? Have you done something?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you don’t even know. Open your eyes.”
“Know what? Can we please just have a conversation about whatever it is that’s crawled up your butt?”
“It didn’t crawl up my butt, you moron. It swam up my vagina! You got me pregnant! Is that what you want to hear? There. I said it. It’s out in the open now. I. Am. Pregnant.” Turning away, Butcher continued aft, feeling the burn of shame on her face as she left Luke standing with his mouth open.
Man Eaters (Book 2): The Horde Page 11