Resurrection of the Fallen (Book 1): Surviving New York

by Misti Vanhoy

  Her head turned slightly toward mine so that she could look up at me with those gorgeous green eyes of hers. The red streaks in her hair complimented them beautifully. She had the appearance of a supermodel fit for the runway. I was awestruck by her radiance every time she gazed upon me. She had to do what I wanted or I’d have to kill her and that’d be such a shame… It was an ending that wouldn’t do the human race any good.

  “Hey,” I whispered to her, leaning in to kiss her luscious lips. She covered her mouth with her hand, preventing me from satisfying my need to taste her delicious kiss. I pulled back and tried desperately to hide my murderous feelings from her. I didn’t want to scare her and that wouldn’t help me convince her to run away with me. She couldn’t know the real me yet. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked softly as though her raising her voice might break the fabric of space and time. She was probably worried that it might all be real if she talked loud enough.

  “I was going to kiss you,” I replied with a forced smile. Trying to be sweet and loving was like sucking on a dirty sock and I hated it! I would find a way for her to make it up to me once we were on our way. I never tried so hard to get someone to like me and it left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Well, don’t. I only did that back at the library because I was starved for attention. I’m good now and I’m not going to be a lesbian under any circumstances,” she said as she sat up in bed and looked around. “Was Sammy taken care of?”

  “Yeah, she was. Brantley did the job before she could turn.” I brushed the hair away from her forehead. She smacked at my hand and got up with a barely audible growl. For a moment, she sounded like the damned things that had plagued us for years. It sparked something deep down that I didn’t like. “Morgan, don’t be like that. We have something special. Unless you want to sleep with Brantley?”

  “Oh, God, no! I don’t want either of you that way. I definitely don’t want to stay here with you.” She walked over to the window to look out and saw that it was dark outside now. She sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was stuck here, for now. No matter how much she didn’t want to be here, she had no choice until morning.

  “Come on! You enjoyed what we did and you know it!” I got up and walked over to her, grabbing her face in my hands. I forcefully kissed her and walked her to the bed, shoving her down onto it. She tried to get up, but I quickly climbed on top of her and held her hands above her head. She wasn’t about to do me this way. Over my dead body! She struggled against me, kicking and pushing up with her arms to try to shake me. Her face was twisted by anger and surprise; my favorite expression for my victims to wear.

  “Stop it, Reagan!” she yelled while I kissed her neck all over, biting frequently. She kicked her feet more forcefully, but I wouldn’t budge. I ignored her attempts like they weren’t even happening. I started grinding my hips against hers, letting go of one arm to grab one of her boobs. She smacked me upside the head, causing me to have an instant headache and a ringing in my ears. I bent down and bit her nipple as hard as I could in response, leaving behind a bright red imprint. Stupid bitch was going to behave!

  She stopped struggling to scream out in pain. She cried, but started to fight back as hard as she could to stop me as I unbuttoned her pants. She was determined not to let me win. I slid my hand down between panty and pants, playing with her to get her aroused. I had the upper hand in this because, even after the outbreak, I had continued to work out to keep my muscles in tip top shape. She hadn’t even bothered. She was a wall flower to be taken complete advantage of. I could have my way with her no matter what.

  Chapter 19

  Enough time had passed that darkness had completely fallen and blanketed the farm a while ago. The blue hue that was brought on by the night light, as Morgan called it, shined brighter out here than in the city. I could see it like a large beacon not far from our current location. There was almost zero blackness out here, just a blue tint to everything and the stars shining above. I could only imagine what the intensity of the light was at the source. Too bad I will never see it. I had no intention of taking Morgan there. Ever… I’d kill her first before I’d let her go. I couldn’t share her with anyone else.

  Brantley still wasn’t back yet. I guess he wanted the entire night to enjoy his new prize. Too bad for him, he won’t be enjoying it much longer. He was about to die and not by my hands. When I show Morgan the fate of her sister, she is going to flip and kill them both. Then I’ll make my move on her and talk her into moving south with me. The swamplands should still provide shelter and natural barriers against these creatures that hunted us. We only had to navigate through them without getting lost or becoming gator bait. I had all the faith in the world in us. We would conquer the world someday.

  I returned to her side where she had curled up into a ball on the bed. She cried after I was done with her and it bothered me more than I would ever admit. It brought back feelings; murderous, dangerous feelings toward her that I didn’t want to act upon. I ignored them once more for my own selfish reasons. Being alone was the last thing that I wanted in this world right now. Psychotic people didn’t cope well alone for long. I needed her alive. She was the only one I could stand for long periods of time. If it wasn’t for that, she would’ve died long ago. No one had ever lived long after refusing my advances. She had been given four years to say yes.

  I smacked her leg, but she didn’t move. Her muscles were tight, contracted to prevent much movement. I rolled my eyes at her steely countenance. It’s not like she didn’t want it or like it. She became mine at the library. There’s no going back now and she should’ve known that. “Get the hell up now. You can’t mope around all day. We have to prepare to leave out at first light,” I yelled, turning away to go back downstairs. My patience was delicately thin at that moment. I wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter her right now.

  Nothing came from her; no noise indicated she had gotten up from the bed or even moved an inch. I blew it off and chalked it up to childish behavior. She wanted to suffer in silence and take whatever was coming to her just because she had lost her family today. I hadn’t seen mine in years, but I wasn’t curled up in a ball or crying about it. Being thrown from one foster home to the next over the years had hardened me and turned me against the whole idea of what family was supposed to be. They were overrated and unnecessary for us at our ages.

  I conducted a search of the house for paper and pen. I dug through drawers and left their contents all over the place, dressers were scavenged through, and the entertainment center was turned inside out. I left nothing unchecked. I didn’t care if I left a mess or not. No one would be coming back. The last place that I looked was where I found what I was looking for. There, tucked inside a basket in a kitchen drawer, was a whole stash of pens and papers. Beside of it, a small, black case sat shiny and untouched. It caught my attention and I abandoned my quest to kill the curious cat.

  Picking up the box, I examined the words inscribed on top. ‘National Rifle Association’ in gold lettering sat in one corner and in the middle, in red lettering, was written ‘Jeffery Holluck, honorary member- twelve year anniversary’. I turned it over to find anything that would tell me what was in it, but only found a stamp on the bottom detailing the customizing company that had engraved it. My hands were sweating from anticipation. I wanted to know what was inside of it now.

  I slowly placed the box onto the countertop and lifted the lid as though it were a ticking bomb. My heart fluttered in hopes that I would find a gun still in this box. Sitting there protected by layers of black egg crate foam, a blue and black snub nose .38 beckoned to me. I lifted it up gingerly and turned it over in my hand. It was a thing of pure beauty with not a scratch on it. The only problem I had with it was Jeffery’s initial had been stamped into the handle. Beggars can’t be choosers so I swallowed my pride and stuffed it down the back of my pants, concealing it with my shirt. The box of r
ounds was emptied into my jacket and pants pockets until I could get to my bag outside tomorrow. Now to get back to business…

  Grabbing the pen and paper, I set them onto the countertop and placed the empty gun box back where it came from. I rifled through the drawer some more and found matches with some emergency candles stashed in the back of it. I set those beside the papers just in case we needed them. Lucifer forbid, we will be screwed if our flashlights died on us before we reached the bayou. I had to make a note to myself to hit up a store for batteries before we were left in the dark permanently.

  I picked up a pen and started scribbling out a list of provisions Morgan and I would need for our journey. I would have to leave my motorcycle behind unless she agreed with my plan. I couldn’t trust her to follow through with it unless she thought it was a good one. I would have to make sure she sat with me on my bike where I could watch her every move. That meant provisions were a ‘come as you can find it’ deal. I couldn’t afford to be so limited while taking care of two people.

  The second sheet of paper I used became my action plan. I listed the things I needed to do before we could leave. Pack a vehicle with supplies, check for gas in Jeffery’s vehicle to put in our own, kill Brantley, search the house for anything useful that’s not on the list, and burn the buildings to the ground. Jeffery wouldn’t need it anymore and I needed to dispose of the evidence of what has happened here. He was probably long dead and gone by now. What good would a house do him in this world? If he had lived, he could have his pick when all this was over.

  I drew a map out on the third sheet. It wasn’t correct by any means, but it would help me convince Morgan that Louisiana was the way to go. My horrible map outlined the route we needed to take to get where we had to go. It had been a while, but I could remember the turns my mom used to take when we’d go see our family there in Baton Rouge. My plan was fool-proof. I could see that as I stood there staring at the three sheets that lay before me. The only factors that would screw this up were other people getting in the way and us running out of gas. Both were controllable and I’d make sure of it. Nothing a few bullets and gas jugs wouldn’t solve!

  The action plan and items list went into my front pocket where I could keep it safe from prying eyes. No one needed to see them other than me. If it fell into the wrong hands, they would stop my plan in its tracks. I headed upstairs to Morgan’s side once again. Now was the time to prepare and every minute that she delayed me was another minute wasted. I laid the paper by her face so that she could see the map and come to her own conclusions about what I was going to explain to her.

  “Look, babe. I know you don’t want to think about anything important right now, but this is what we need to do. Samantha’s gone and your dad’s not coming back. There’s nothing left for us here anymore. We need to go to Louisiana. We can live out the virus there where we can be protected by swamps. There is a bigger food supply and water. Our lives depend on it. Just us,” I whispered, trying to sound like I was pleading for her to consider it. It wasn’t easy for me. I have never begged in my life.

  Her glance at me was ice cold. I could feel that the room had dropped a few degrees in temperature in a split second. She snatched up the crude map and looked at it as a frown formed on her face. The wrinkles on her face became more prominent and aged her about fifteen years. She shook her head and flung it back at me. “I’m not going, Reagan. Forget it. You can take Brantley,” she hissed. She got up and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I picked up the nearest object, a unicorn lamp, and flung it against the wall in rage. I watched it shatter into millions of pieces, satisfied with the result of my anger. A burning, hot heat boiled inside of me; the same feeling I always got when murderous intentions wouldn’t be abated.

  The wheels began churning in my head and a new action plan began to form: I was going to take everything I could fit on my bike, pop the tires on both cars in the driveway, handle Brantley just because I could, set the house on fire with Morgan in it, and leave for New Orleans or even farther. A wicked smile played across my lips as I set out to do just that. I had had enough of her constantly denying her feelings for me. I was tired of her refusing my advances and standing her ground. She was coming between me and my goal, my dreams. If she wouldn’t play along, I would find someone else who would. There was a possibility that someone else out in the world still lived and was hotter than Morgan could ever hope to be. I would find them and they would go with me whether they wanted to or not.

  Chapter 20

  Down in the kitchen, I stood with my backpack in my hand, slap full to the point I couldn’t zip it fully, and contemplated my plan once more. Morgan still hadn’t come out of the bathroom and it just further drove home my anger with her. There was no going back now. I had already taken my anger out on the cars parked outside. Not a single tire was left untouched by my blade. I turned my back on the house and left, heading for the barn. It was my time to shine!

  I wasn’t careful like I was the first time. I didn’t bother to walk silently or to open the barn door quietly. With a lit emergency candle in one hand, I quickly climbed the ladder and walked to where I had found Brantley earlier. He was still there, in the throws of passion yet again, clinging to his precious zombie child like a bucking bronco. It was still just as disgusting as it was the first time. I would never get this out of my mind.

  He stopped mid-stride and turned to look at me. His face went through a myriad of emotions within seconds: fear, hatred, embarrassment, shame, astonishment. It was a show of sorts. I was amused that he couldn’t get a hold of himself in that moment. Once he gained control of himself, he finally settled for an irritated expression. I never said a word. I just stared at him blankly.

  “Would you like to join? If not, walk the hell away, bitch. I swear if you tell anyone I will kill you!” he hissed. My, my… Everyone was in a pissy mood tonight. There wasn’t even a full moon to blame for it. It seemed like they had synchronized menstrual cycles.

  A twinkle lit my eyes as a thought struck me. I could play along with it long enough to let the girl go so she could devour Brantley. I wouldn’t even have to get my hands dirty with it. Just a few swipes of the knife and he’d no longer be a problem. He’d just have an instant case of Karma. I could let them go in case Morgan escapes the house once I set it ablaze. It’d give her a nice surprise. Just wish I could be there to see her face when her sister was found walking around in all her undead glory. Aww… Her poor heart might explode. Not that I care anymore. I’m over her now, just like a light switch being flipped off.

  I smiled at him and replied sweetly, “Sure. I love a good bondage game.” Walking over to them, I knelt down and touched his shoulder. “How do you want to play this?” His irritation melted away to excitement.

  “We take turns,” he replied as he went back to what he had been doing when I interrupted.

  I watched for a few seconds before snuffing the candle out. It was time to make my move before his eyes grew accustomed to the newfound darkness inside the barn. I crawled over to the left just enough to reach Samantha’s arms. He never seemed to notice. Silently, I took out one of my daggers and sliced away the gag from her mouth. As quickly as I could, I sliced away the bondage that kept her arms behind her head. I got up swiftly and ran for the ladder just as I heard Brantley say, “What the hell?” My life depended on me getting out of here now before she turned him. Time was ticking away. His screams followed me as I ran out of the barn door, leaving it open for them to surprise Morgan should she escape.

  I went over to Morgan’s and Jeffery’s cars, pulling out two hoses that had been stuffed loosely into my backpack. I opened both gas tanks and stuffed the hoses down into the neck one at a time. With a little bit of sucking power, I was able to get the gas to come out and into some mason jars that I had found underneath the kitchen sink. As the gas flowed through the hoses into the jars, I hurried along to gather a large pile of dried leaves by the front door. These would come in handy to as
sist the gas in spreading the flames. When I had filled up all my jars, I let the excess keep running out onto the ground and my mind went on autopilot. Everything seemed so natural to me. I didn’t have to think about what I was doing. I burst through the front door, lighter in hand, and went over to the nearest curtain. I dashed a tiny bit of gasoline onto the porous fabrics, smiling to myself at the idea of having my revenge. I fought with the lighter to get it to light, but it didn’t work. Must’ve been out of fluid. Four years of using the same one takes its toll. I threw my backpack down with a loud clank from the canned foods and jars full of gas, opened up the side pocket, and pulled out the matches I had found earlier. It took twice running the match along the igniter for it to catch, but it finally breathed life into a tiny flame. I held it to the curtain until it caught fire and snuffed the match out.

  I dashed back outside and scooped up the pile of leaves in my arms. I went back to the curtain and left a trail to the other side of the room where a pile of chopped wood had been placed before Jeffery had abandoned his home. The leaves would assist the gas in leading the fire to its next fuel source. In doing so, I soaked a few leaves every few inches with gasoline to aid in the fire’s search for more fuel. As I made my way out the door, the fire was jumping at the ceiling, looking for somewhere farther to go. Before I could even get onto my motorcycle, a loud crash sounded from the house. It was clear to me what had happened. The curtain had fallen, or what was left of it, crashing to the floor, still suffocated by fire. The room lit up in a blaze as my trail helped spread the fire along the floor, ultimately dooming the house when it reached extra fuel from the wood. Morgan couldn’t escape.