Flesh Ravenous : A Zombie Horror Series -Book 2

by James M. Gabagat

  Again, she laughed.

  Lawrence, with flashlight still in hand, examined the kitchen floor. Over a dozen empty water bottles, sports drink bottles, and smoothie bottles surrounded him.

  “Someone beat us to it,” said Tristan. He opened the refrigerator door. Lawrence shined the light in. “So, does anyone want to eat margarine? Or some rotten cucumbers—or squash—whatever those are?” It was all that remained. A small, opened tub of yellow slime and some unknown vegetable, fuzzy with mold.

  Lawrence brought the light back to the bottles. He picked one up and inspected it. “Someone might still be in here.”

  “What makes you think that?” said Ally.

  “There’s liquid in here.” Lawrence held the smoothie bottle close to his face and eyed the green droplets within.

  “And?” said Sonya.

  “Liquid dries over time. Someone had just opened this bottle. Maybe minutes ago. And they probably have a tummy ache, because this smoothie expired in August.” He tossed the bottle aside. “There’s people here.”

  “How do we know they’re people?” Sonya asked.

  “Oh, um, because a zombie doesn’t head to the kitchen and say, ‘Man, I really wanna drink a smoothie or an off-brand Gatorade right now. Hmmm, perhaps I shall have both.’ Lawrence rarely uttered the Z word, but he was annoyed. Sonya was wearing on his nerves. “Do you understand, Sonya? A zombie doesn’t say things like that. They don’t talk.” He hoped he made Sonya feel stupid. Because she laughed at him earlier. She laughed when he got hurt. That was so mean.

  “What about Bambi?”

  Fuck. Lawrence now felt stupid. How the hell did he forget about Bambi?

  “She kept asking you to fuck her,” said Sonya, “and she said you were handsome, even though she was braindead—of course, any woman who’d talk to you like that would be braindead.”

  Lawrence had nothing to say. Dammit. You win this round, Sonya.

  …ya bitch.

  “Do you know how bad our situation is?” Ally scolded Lawrence and Sonya. “We just lost the car. We’re stranded here. Are you two really gonna have a childish argument right now? I mean, really? You two are acting childish.”

  “She…” said Lawrence, pointing at Sonya. He didn’t feel he was acting childish—Ally was just being a booger-head. “Sonya laughed at me when I hurt my elbow. That was mean.” He pouted. “She was being mean to me.” He was interrupted by the faint creaking of wood and then a thump. He looked up.

  “That came from upstairs,” Ally whispered, with a finger directed to the ceiling.

  “They know we’re here,” whispered Sonya. She took hold of her pistol.

  Lawrence didn’t have the same bad feeling about this house as he did at Anderson’s. Compared to the outside, where they were being shot at, he felt safer in here. The place appeared secure from the outside and there wasn’t any foul smells of rot and death and of a grown man with a leaking penis. Whoever was moving around the second floor didn’t scare Lawrence. He felt a little relieved that the four of them weren’t alone.

  “We should head upstairs,” said Lawrence.

  “No way,” said Tristan, “I’m not ready to deal with another Anderson or Bambi. We don’t need to go upstairs. We should hide down here and wait for them to come to us.”

  “What could be worse than an Anderson or Bambi?” Lawrence awaited an answer from his friends. They didn’t reply. “There are no dead things here.” He made a sweeping hand motion to the bottles on the floor. “Only the living, as you can see. If there were any dead things, we’d here them moaning and groaning or growling—you all know how loud they are.”

  Ally nodded, agreeing. “Whoever’s in this house is probably more afraid of us.” She spoke mainly to Sonya and Tristan. “We should find them and let them know we’re not a threat. Unless they are.”

  “What if we go upstairs and they ambush us?” Tristan asked.

  “Let’s just do something right now,” said Sonya, in her irritable, losing patience tone. “We won’t be leaving for a while, with a gunner outside looking for us.” She stomped her foot, as though becoming antsy from staying in one spot. “So, can we just do something now, huh?”

  “Let’s get moving, guys,” said Lawrence, “before Sonya starts foaming at the mouth and clawing at her face.”

  Sonya

  The four came to the front section of the house where the staircase was located. Above the front door, the day shined through the immense, paneled windows, which nearly stretched to the entrance hall’s high ceiling. Though it was still a sunless morning, the path up the stairs wasn’t in darkness. They stayed close together as they climbed, much like they did at Anderson Andrew’s house. Sonya and Lawrence led. Sonya equipped with the axe and Lawrence with the pistol in his left hand. He held the gun limply at his side, as though not anticipating any trouble on the second level. Sonya didn’t sense any trouble either. Might be that she was too dehydrated and peevish to care for any dangers. She didn’t mind a confrontation right now, due to her current mood. She wanted to hit something, break something—maybe just yell at someone to release some aggression.

  Sonya heard a soft swishing as they reached the top floor. The direction it came from was unclear. They came to a spacious sitting area where two hallways met.

  “Whoever’s here,” Lawrence called out, “we don’t mean any harm.”

  “We were shot at outside,” Sonya called. She spoke in a soft voice, a tad more feminine than usual, hoping that whoever was hiding would feel the group was indeed harmless. “We managed to get away unscathed.”

  Again, the swishing noise came. Then a slam followed, which sounded like a door hitting a wall. It came from behind a door slightly ajar, the room closest to them.

  Sonya’s hand went to her pistol handle. “Please, we’re not looking for any trouble,” she continued with her “nice” tone, which always sounded embarrassingly phony.

  Lawrence slowly approached the room’s door, the source of the noises. Tristan followed behind him, his sword held out and gripped with two hands.

  “Lawrence, don’t,” Ally whispered.

  Lawrence had the gun low at his side, held non-threateningly. “Listen,” he called out, pushing the door open, “we’re just looking to survive—”

  Something in that room struck him in the face. His head whipped back.

  Tristan leapt backwards, fumbling with the sword in hand.

  Ally screamed.

  Sonya pulled out her pistol.

  Lawrence lurched a few steps back and caught his fall by hooking his arm against the railing. His nose bled.

  “Lawrence!” Ally shouted

  A small woman, wearing an oversized puff jacket and a white, furry beanie with bunny ears, charged out of the room and assaulted Lawrence with some odd-shaped wooden object. It was merely a series of dull strikes, catching Lawrence’s padded arm and shoulder. He swung his hand continuously, attempting to bat away that wooden piece that jabbed at him.

  “Stay away,” the woman shouted at Lawrence. “Stay away from me!”

  “Get off him,” said Tristan, as he shoved the woman off Lawrence.

  The woman fell on her bottom and immediately got to her feet. She skittered off, nudging Sonya out of her way with whatever that wooden object was.

  “Stop right there,” Sonya aimed the gun at the bunny-eared woman. The woman stopped and turned around, holding up her wooden weapon menacingly. “Don’t move. I told you, we’re not looking for any trouble.”

  “Bullshit!” The woman spat at Sonya. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Are you with those apes? Are you?” She pulled off her bunny beanie and threw it at Sonya. The woman had long, blonde hair, tangled and disheveled, head riddled with bald patches. She stood a few inches under five feet and appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, but her crazed eyes and the ugliness of her scowl made her look like a badly aged type of late twenty. Her nose leaked, as though she were sick with a cold or suffered alle
rgies. Her lips were chapped and crusted white. The wooden object in her grasp wasn’t of wood. It was a taxidermy armadillo.

  Sonya forgave the stranger’s spitting and bunny hat throwing, figured this small woman was frightened. Understandably so. “No, we’re not with any…apes or anything like that.”

  “You’re with the apes.” She took a prolonged sniff of the air. “I could smell it on ya. I could smell your soul. It stinks.”

  “No,” said Ally, “we’re not apes or with any apes. Just calm down, please.”

  “We’re not here to hurt you,” Sonya added. She lowered the gun. “My name’s Sonya.” She started pointing out everyone in the group. “That’s Ally, Tristan, and the guy you attacked, the one with a bloody nose, is Lawrence.”

  The woman brandished her armadillo. “You think your queer-looking Titan Storm Brigade armor intimidates me? Huh? Do ya?”

  “Calm down,” Sonya continued, calmly. “What about you? You got a name?”

  “Do I have a name, ya ask? I’m Meredith C. Higgins,” she sounded like a drunken bag lady attempting to be elegant. “None of ya will stop me. Not any of ya Titan Storm Brigade assholes or your ape friends will stop me. I’m gonna make it to Hollywood. I’m gonna be a star, you’ll see. I’ll prove all of ya wrong.”

  And with the word “Hollywood,” Sonya sighed. She brought her gun back up and aimed.

  “Aw fuck,” said Lawrence, “not another one.”

  Sonya remembered Lawrence’s words, what he’d said about the houses in the neighborhoods. If there happens to be anybody living inside, they’re likely half-starved and half-mental by now. So far, he was right.

  Lawrence tucked away his gun and approached Meredith with palms held out before him, displaying his weaponless hands for her to be at ease. “Yeah, I believe you, Meredith. You’re gonna be a star in Hollywood. You’re a captivating woman.” Of course, his words were an attempt to pacify Meredith. “You…uh…take my breath away. Now please, calm yourself. We’re not gonna hurt you. I believe in you. I believe in your beauty.” Now Lawrence was using a bedroom voice. Sonya thought that was creepy. “I understand that you’re scared.” Meredith prodded Lawrence’s gut with the armadillo. “Ow,” he stepped back, “take it easy with that.”

  “Stay back,” said Meredith, circling Lawrence. “I can see how badly ya want me. Stay back, or, or I’ll, I’ll power attack ya.” She wagged the armadillo’s head at Lawrence. “You’re coming real close to an armadillo power attack, asshole. I’m fucking warning ya. Stop undressing me with your eyes.” She spat at Lawrence. “Ya plan to throw me out of here and hand me over to those apes. Just because ya want me so badly, but can’t have me. Or you’ll do worse. You’ll try to feed me to those ravenous freaks. Those freaks devoured my Ernie. Ya want them eating me too, don’tcha? Those freaks are flesh ravenous!” She spat on the floor. “Flesh ravenous, I tell ya. Flesh ravenous. Flesh…ravenous!”

  Flesh ravenous, flesh ravenous, she kept saying. Flesh ravenous. It sounded like it’d be a title for some god-awful, terribly written zombie series. This Meredith woman must’ve seen some disturbing things that damaged her, fucked her up in the head majorly. Sonya wondered who Ernie was. Meredith’s lover? Brother? Child?

  “I’m trying to be reasonable and amicable with you here,” said Lawrence, “but you’re making it hard for me.”

  “Did you say that I’m making ya hard?” said Meredith.

  “Oh, fuck no, that’s not what I said. Yuck.” She jabbed Lawrence with the armadillo again. He grunted and recoiled and clutched his stomach.

  “Ya sick queer, I told ya. Ya can’t have none of this.” Meredith continued her armadillo brandishing.

  “Leave him alone!” said Ally, stepping forward with her spear point raised.

  Tristan grabbed her by the shoulder. “Ally, don’t.”

  “Ya can’t have none of this.” Meredith was now rubbing herself down there, taunting Lawrence. “Ya can’t have any of Meredith C. Higgins’s goodies, none of this tasty shit here—”

  Suddenly Meredith went quiet.

  Because Lawrence socked her in the mouth. Very hard.

  Meredith staggered back, taxidermy armadillo falling from her hands and clattering to the floor.

  “Jesus,” said Sonya, “did you have to do that, Lawrence?”

  “Yeeahhh, damn right.” Lawrence seemed to force on a grin through his frustration. “Because that’s how I solve my problems,” he proudly stated, “by punching things.”

  Meredith appeared dazed. She spat out a bloody tooth as her back slammed against the railing. She then staggered forth and lost footing over the armadillo. She twisted at the waist, dove forward, and tumbled onto the stairs. Then she was rolling down.

  Lawrence’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Meredith rolled and tumbled and bounced. Her limbs banged against the stair rails, her head bobbed and thrashed against the stairs and whipped shoulder to shoulder.

  The four could only look on in horror.

  Sonya and Ally screamed.

  “Oh, my God,” said Tristan, “she bounced on her head.”

  “That’s not cool,” said Lawrence, with eyes still wide. “I don’t like that. That’s really not cool.”

  Meredith continued to fall.

  Tristan said, “Oh, God, her elbow bent the incorrect way.”

  Lawrence said, “Oh, man, this isn’t cool at all.”

  Meredith landed at the foot of the stairs with a final crack. She didn’t make any other sounds after.

  The four were quiet as they stared down at the body from the second floor.

  Nearly a minute passed.

  Lawrence finally spoke. “Oh, dear God. That’s…not cool.”

  12

  Characters Revealed

  France

  France placed the stack of Titan Storm Brigade manga onto the family room coffee table, which was littered with lit candles and issues of the horror magazine Pulp Dummy Dreadful. Joni had begun a reading binge of the manga that morning and was now on the third volume. Last night, after Thanksgiving dinner, France had searched the master bedroom, Lawrence’s room, and Tristan’s room for the complete series—all forty books, as Lawrence had claimed to have. She at least found more than half. She’d probably have to go through the storage room for the rest. Joni seemed happy and distracted for the time being. Though she tried to hide it, everyone knew it troubled Joni that Therese was gone and that Ally left out with the group.

  “These are volumes five through seventeen,” said France, taking a seat next to Joni on the floor near the coffee table. “You better be grateful, Joni. I had to go through Lawrence’s closet and drawers and under his bed to find most of them. Tristan’s room wasn’t pretty, either.” France never had a brother. She found out the hard way that certain parts of a guy’s room had a distinct, unbearable odor. She assumed it was the smell of balls.

  “Thank you, Fransy,” said Joni, in a playful singsong voice, “thank yoooouuu.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Joni laughed. “What? I was just saying ‘thank yoooouuu.’”

  France kept a scowl, though she laughed on the inside. “I don’t know why volumes sixteen and seventeen were under Lawrence’s bed. I also don’t know why so many pairs of underwear were down there, too. All with holes in them.”

  “Is that why you screamed last night? Because you saw Lawrence’s underwear?”

  “Yes, that’s why I screamed last night. I got scared.”

  Joni leaned in close to France’s ear and said, “We should put one of Lawrence’s underwear on Charlene’s face while she’s sleeping.”

  France pondered a moment. That’s a fucking brilliant idea, she thought. She also considered putting Lawrence’s underwear on her dad’s face. That’s so fucking brilliant. “No, Joni, that’s a sick and evil idea. Why would you think of doing something like that?” Fucking brilliant idea.

  “Because it’s funny.”

&nb
sp; “I know it’d be funny, but if we did that to Charlene she’d hate us forever.” It’d be hilarious, though. France continued to ponder the idea. She started to fantasize putting underwear on Charlene’s face. Damn it, I wanna put Lawrence’s dirty underwear on Charlene’s face.

  “I guess you’re right,” said Joni, “that’d be sick and evil.”

  The two girls looked at each other and grinned.

  Joni went back to her manga, while France picked up an issue of Pulp Dummy Dreadful and began reading.

  “I think I heard you ladies say my name,” said Charlene, coming out of the kitchen. She came over to the couch behind France and Joni and sat down. “I bet you two were like, ‘Oh my goodness, Charlene is so pretty and unbelievably elegant and breathtaking.’” She laughed. “Oh, my God, I’m so cute and funny.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we were saying,” said France. She saw Joni grin.

  Charlene suddenly gasped, loudly, making France and Joni jolt. “Little girl,” Charlene said to Joni, “are you reading Titan Storm Brigade?”

  Joni turned her head to look at Charlene. “Yeah, I’m on volume three.”

  “That’s the one where Dobo kills Gorgon Mota and acquires the Horn Helm of Sytaros. But, as it turns out, the helmet was utterly useless to him.”

  Joni flipped through the pages. “I’m not on that part yet.”

  “Don’t spoil it for her,” said France. “The anime is different from the manga.”

  “What?” said Charlene. “I spoiled nothing, dude. Before everyone in the world was getting all diseased and eating each other, they were about to come out with season three. That’s supposedly when Dobo acquires the Horn Mega Helm and starts kicking everyone’s ass. Season three was gonna have more members added to the Brigade and…more characters revealed.”

  “Char, I thought you didn’t watch Titan Storm Brigade. You said it was for ugly nerds. You said anime in general is for ugly nerds.”

  “What? I never said that, dude.”

  France looked at Charlene with brows furrowed. Why do you keep calling me “dude?” “Yeah, you did say that.”