by SP Durnin
Mooney didn’t look pleased. “I know you’re hoping Jake and Kat will show. Hell, I hope they do too. They’re good kids. But there’s a lot of frightened folks on that bus, my friend. Frightened people do stupid shit, you know?”
Foster said nothing. He simply folded his arms and stared out into the drizzle, stogie clenched thoughtfully between his teeth. Mooney sipped at his own half-full mug and glanced at Beatrix. She shrugged and continued to blow watermelon flavored bubbles with her gum as they watched her uncle mull over their situation and the likely outcomes.
“Bee, get on the horn. Call Elle, Leo, Gwen, an’ that Ryan guy a’ hers back from their location on Route 69, then gather our people in the Mimi. We gotta modify our plan.” George rolled his cigar between his thick fingers.
“We’re going to leave?” She asked incredulously.
Brow furrowing slightly, George ran his eyes over the modified tour bus. “China Doll an’ her boyfriend are gonna have ta’ roll with it, once they arrive. As much as I hate ta’ say it, that jackass was correct. We can’t keep these people out here much longer. We gotta move.”
“The others are going to be collectively upset. You know that, right?” Bee moved to stand beside her uncle. “I’m not really keen on the idea of bugging out on them myself.”
“Believe me girl, I understand. But Chuck here took us in back in Langley. Could’a just told us to keep on going, but he didn’t. Gave us a place to rest an’ heal up, in more ways than one.” Mooney nodded at the compliment as Foster went on. “We owe him fer that. Be pretty shitty ta’ tell him to piss off, now that it’s his people in the shit. Wouldn’t it?”
“Rae’s gonna have kittens.” Bee shook her head.
He rolled his eyes and shared a knowing look with Mooney. “So what else is new? I’ll explain it to her. Usin’ small words. An’ simple sentences. That might work, but I wouldn’t put money on it. She is female after all. The whole reason and common sense thing is probably too much ta’ hope for, but that’s not surprising. How women can think at all with them extra chemicals floatin’ around in their blood is jus’ beyond me…”
“Wow. Brilliant as usual.” Bee drolled. “Be sure to phrase it just like that when you talk with her. And let me sell tickets to the show first. I’ll even make popcorn.”
“Smartass.”
“I get it from your side of the family.” She told him innocently.
George snorted. “Bullshit. Remember, I’ve met yer mother. Ya’ might not believe it when I tell ya’ she’s got a mouth foul enough to put a sailor ta’ shame, but sure as shit you can take it as the gospel truth. Let me worry about Hot Rod. Not like I ain’t used ta’ her yammerin’ at me about every little thing on a daily basis anyhow. Christ. And people ask me why I never got hitched? Go on. Call Elle and get ‘em back here.”
-CHAPTER TWO-
Katherine Brightfeather Cho woke under a heavy down comforter and didn’t have the first clue where she was.
She opened her eyes and saw an antique dresser to her left, just below a window covered with at least one blanket that had been secured to the surface of the wall with a fair amount of duct tape. Several small tea-light candles flickered happily on a baking sheet a-top the dresser, valiantly throwing their weak illumination against the growing darkness, turning the bedroom into a warm nest of dancing half-light and shadows. Next to the baking sheet sat a cheap wind-up clock, its hands showing her it was almost nine. Kat assumed correctly that meant PM and attempted to sit up.
“Ow!” She squeaked and froze in place.
Her body complained loudly when she’d moved to rise, letting Kat know if she tried that too quickly again it would stage a revolt. Thankfully, she didn’t feel the definitive agony of any broken bones—which was a plus—and took stock of her injuries.
While her entire left side throbbed with a dull ache that set her teeth on edge—and a large knot on the top of her head felt a bit swollen—nothing seemed life threatening, or even very serious. It was simply a combination of soft tissue bruising and fatigue that made her feel like she’d lost a fight with King Kong. Both would fade with time and rest so, even though her body cursed her something fierce in the process, Cho gingerly rolled over to take in the rest of the bedroom.
Her right hip bumped into a pair of Gore-tex boots.
Turning her head slowly, due to pronounced soreness on the left side of her neck, she saw Jacob O’Connor slumped in what looked to be a very uncomfortable, high-backed wooden chair beside her. He was sleeping with his feet on the edge of the bed, one hand limp against his ribs, the other nearly touching the floor, still wearing his ragged CBGB’s t-shirt, travel-stained pants, and combat boots. They rested on the comforter, leaving dried chunks of dirt on the maroon-gold, paisley pattern as Kat’s eyes moved to thankfully take in his visage.
O’Connor didn’t look good at all. He was extremely pale, his cheekbones stood out sharply against the discolored flesh under his eyes—she noticed a new, ugly cut over his right one—and his brows pulled together in a slumbering frown that made her fingers twitch with the urge to smooth said expression away. There were swollen bruises on what she could see of his face and neck, along with some deep lacerations down one arm. The same arm Milo Tompkins, Skinhead Extraordinaire, had stuck a large German-made dagger into just two months prior. He looked drawn and, even fast asleep, stretched almost to his breaking point. Kat wondered exactly what had transpired while she’d been napping and though she loathed to do so, sat up to gently rouse him from Dreamland.
When she pushed the comforter down, sliding her legs over edge towards the edge of the mattress, she found much of her clothing was missing. She wore a tank-top undershirt which was a bit loose in places and—judging by the size—may have been looted from a man’s closet, her favorite, purple demi-cup bra and panties, and that was about it. She was quite surprised. That meant Jake had removed her outerwear while she’d been asleep, and she hadn’t come to. Cho looked around to see her boots, trousers, vambraces, and—most importantly—her grandfather’s sword waiting for her on another chest of drawers across the room. They’d been cleaned and folded deliberately before being placed there. She could even see a fresh sheen from some type of leather protector contrasted against the slightly worse-for-wear Hello Kitty patch she’d sewn to the right buttock of her leathers.
He had time to…? Wow, how long have I been out?
Felling a sudden need to visit the facilities, Cho put her feet to the cold floor and stood gingerly which caused the bed to creak. Jake stirred but didn’t open his eyes, so, taking one of the small candles along, she crept into the attached bathroom, shut the door, and voided gratefully.
There was actual toilet paper on the roll.
That was something no one talked about stocking up on for the apocalypse. All those preppers liked showing off their guns, and buckets full of freeze-dried food and water, and underground, bomb-proof bunkers, but toilet paper? Kat was pretty sure some would now trade a months-worth of food for just one roll of Angel Soft.
Safely out of sight, she tried to courtesy flush—surprisingly the water still worked somehow—then moved opposite the mirror above the sink to take in the damage.
The female image staring back at her didn’t look that bad. There was a four-inch gash on her cheek held together with a trio of butterfly bandages—which explained her facial discomfort—and the flesh around both her eyes was bruised noticeably too. Her nose didn’t feel broken or look swollen, but she had a pair of world-class shiners.
Oh man, she thought, I look like freaking Darryl Hannah in Blade Runner.
She gave a tired sigh, leaned her forehead against the mirror to relish the coolness of its surface, and tried to remember what happened.
* * *
The small, fortified town of Langley, Oklahoma had fallen.
When the volatile “improvised explosive device” Foster and Rae put together turned the town’s eastern-most dam into impressionist art, the waters from the
Lake of the Cherokees had done their work. The roadway had disappeared in the deluge, making pursuit impossible, allowing the Screamin’ Mimi to flee General Winston Hess’s forces and the encroaching zombie horde. They’d headed south, along with the two, steel-encapsulated tour buses full of Langley’s remaining survivors, towards the hoped-for refuge of Pecos, Texas.
Jake and Kat hadn’t been with them.
When Foster and Rae’s slap-dash IED had detonated, the incredible force of the blast wave weakened the town’s barrier on the dam, but hadn’t destroyed it. That had been done by the cannon on General Hess’s very own monstrous MATTOC. The school bus/watchtower they’d been concealed a-top had toppled ponderously, finally teetering out over the drop off, thereby sending O’Connor and Cho tumbling towards the vehicle’s rear. Jake managed to halt their slide by latching onto the broken frame with one hand and using his other to grab Kat’s own as she slid by him, but that had put them both hanging from the bus’s emergency door.
“Hold on!” Jake had locked his grip on her and strained against the metal.
As she’d dangled there, Cho looked down into the sixty-foot void beneath her boots. She knew he’d never let her go, not even if it meant dislocating his shoulder, then they’d both end up dying. She couldn’t allow that to happen and, speaking calmly, tilted her face up to him while she relaxed her hold on his arm.
“Drop me.”
Jake’s eyes flew open. They’d been clenched shut as his shoulders burned with the effort of supporting their combined weight. “What?”
“We’ll both die!” Kat let go of the bus completely and her slick vambrace had begun inching through his trembling grip. “Do it! There’s no way you can hold our combined weight, and you have to find the others again. You promised!”
“Forget that!” He’d bared his teeth and desperately tried to halt her downward slide. “Hold on to me, dammit!”
Her wrist slowly passed through is fingers. “I’m not afraid. Let me go.”
Jake’s eyes bulged wide in panic. His arms shook. His hand nearly crushed hers as he fought to keep his grip. “No!”
“I love—” Kat had begun.
Then she’d slipped free.
As she’d fallen, Jake kicked away from the tailgate and dove after her.
The ninja-girl screamed in rage and denial, wanting to curse him for following her headlong into oblivion, but realized at that time it would’ve be pointless. They were both dead. The wind of her passage sent her blue, pixie-cut hair flying in her face, drawing stinging tears from her eyes as the dam’s top had receded quickly and Jake sped closer. Kat realized she might at least be able to touch him before they hit bottom, and reached one hand out vainly. Jake was only a foot away, speeding towards her, arms outstretched as he plummeted closer in her wake.
Their fingers brushed for a moment, then they’d plunged into the flood-waters below and Kat’s world had gone dark.
* * *
“Ah, crap.” Cho gently put her bruised face in her hands. “Well, that plan went over like a fart in a spacesuit.”
She heard a confused grunt from the bedroom.
“...Ugh… Oh shit! Kat, where are you?!” Jake’s voice was frantic.
“I’m fine,” she called back to him quietly, “I’m in here.”
The uncoordinated scuffling of Vibram boot-soles against a hardwood floor approached at speed and the bathroom door slammed open. O’Connor stood there breathing hard and staring at her.
“Hi.” She managed a weak grin. “You were asleep, so-Oophf!”
The last was pushed from her lungs as Jake surged forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, crushing her to his chest as a drowning man would a life preserver. Kat silently twined her own arms around his waist in response and hugged him back. She felt him lower his face against her sleep-mussed hair, but kept quiet even when his strength hurt her. She concentrated instead on enjoying the closeness of him, unmindful of her sore muscles.
“Let you go?” he choked out, “You silly bitch. Don’t ever ask me something like that again. Do you hear me?”
Cho snuggled against him and put her face to Jake’s neck as he tried to keep himself from either crying, or taking her by the shoulders and giving her a hearty shake until her brain engaged.
“Really had me scared for a while there.” He was trembling. “I’m glad you’re all right. You are, aren’t you?”
She sighed against his throat. “Yeah, but I can’t seem to do a thing with my hair. Talk about ‘bed-head.’ Totally embarrassing, by the way.”
Jake stopped squeezing and pulled back, even though he didn’t release his hold on her. “You need to take this seriously. You nearly died. When I got us to shore, you weren’t breathing and…” His eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m okay.” She tried to smile, but her cheek twinged and she winced.
“Bullshit,” Jake told her bluntly. “You hungry? There’s not much here, except a few cans of soup tucked away down in the kitchen. Go back to bed. I’ll make a bowl on the Esbit stove I found and bring it up to you.”
“Nah. Food doesn’t sound appealing right this second. Thanks for offering though.” She was a bit peckish, but was also tired and she didn’t really want to bother with eating. “Since we’re both awake, let me just get my clothes on. We’ll get our stuff together so we can make tracks first thing in the morning. George—”
O’Connor’s hands tightened on her arms. “You should rest up for another day and get your strength back. There’s no one here you have to impress.”
“I wasn’t trying to, but I think we should leave as soon as possible,” Kat was tired, but didn’t want to let him know it. They needed to rejoin their friends in the Mimi soonest if they wanted to get to Pecos ahead of Hess’s force currently working its way south. There were surely creatures in the area too, after the horde breached Langley’s barrier, prior to their battle with the general and his troops. “Besides, I don’t need to be babied.”
“Look, you’ve been in and out for two days, and…”
That was a shock. She didn’t feel that bad, but that was also quite a long time to be unconscious. Maybe she had a concussion? Neither of her eyes had shown signs of pupal dilation when she’d checked them in the mirror. Kat realized Jake was still talking and focused her attention again.
“…for one more night, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re worried, and that’s really cute but we’ve had this conversation, remember? I’m not some delicate little flower who can’t take care of herself. I’m a bad-ass, zombie-killin’ ninja for heaven’s sake. And I certainly don’t need you to protect me. If you think about it, I’m the one who’s kept your tush from getting chomped by zombies for months now.” Cho was quickly becoming amused.
“You’re going to lay down again,” Jake insisted.
“Nope,” she said firmly.
“Yeah. You are.” His face went hard.
“No, I’m not.” Who did he think he was talking to? Granted, to her, Jake was pretty sexy when he tried to be all protective and assertive and stuff, but really.
“Alright. My way it is then.”
To Kat’s amazement, O’Connor scooped her up bodily before she could react and—her knees over one arm and her upper body in his other—with determined strides, carried her back to the bed. While upset over him ignoring her protests, the feeling of Jake cradling her as he bent and deposited her firmly on the comforter—above the clumps of mud he’d left from his boots—was quite arousing. Shaking that distraction quickly away, Cho crossed her arms under her bosom, and shot him an angry glare. “If anyone else did what you just did, I’d have knocked their teeth out. Or cut their throat. One of the two.”
“Uh-huh.” Jake put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. “Before or after they saved you from drowning? Besides, I don’t think you’re up for any hand-to-hand confrontations right now.”
“I can still whip you three out of five falls,” Kat insisted h
otly.
O’Connor didn’t rise to the bait. “Maybe. But for now, you’re going to sit your ass on that bed while I go downstairs and make you something to eat. Then, you’re going to eat it. And then convalesce for the rest of the night. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Look, you’re being silly. I may not be at one-hundred percent, but—” She began to rise from the bed.
Jake was suddenly there, face quite close to her own. It showed a mixture of intense fear and towering anger, and—for the first time she could remember—absolutely no willingness to compromise.
“Sit. Down.”
Still glaring at him defiantly, Kat plunked her bottom on the edge of the bed again.
He moved towards the door. “Stay.”
She pulled her legs up onto the comforter and folded them Indian-style as she glared at him.
“Anata wa watashi o osorenai, gaijin!”
Kat’s ‘You don’t scare me, gaijin!’ didn’t impress him, for the simple reason that he had no clue what she was saying. O’Connor stopped in the doorway to point at the blanket-shrouded widow.
“Just so you don’t get any bright ideas? You should know that I still have plenty of duct-tape.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Jakes eyes hardened. “Don’t push it. I will tie you to that bed if need be. There would be spankings. And they would hurt.” Then he left the room, still fuming.
“Anata wa itsumo yakusoku o shite iru! Watashi wa, anata ga tameshite mite mitai!”
“I don’t speak much Japanese yet, you know.” he called back.
While temped, the pretty Asian didn’t know if translating ‘Promises, promises! I’d like to see you try!’ into English would be a good idea. While his alternative sounded like a fun time to her, Cho was concerned over the expression she’d seen on his face. The last few days had to have been some of the hardest he’d been through yet. Between getting them both to relative safety, dealing with her injuries, making sure their hiding place was secure, and worrying about what he’d do if any stray ghouls happened along, it was plain he’d been able to get very little rest. She made a mental note to con him into at least taking a nap after she’d eaten.