Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West)

by Angela Scott

Kids were a whole different breed—real short, for one thing, and they made no sense, for the most part. Nonetheless, Trace adapted to the new role he'd been forced into. He actually cared for the boy, and his sister too.

  Fisher stood naked, clasping his hands over his miniature parts, while Trace filled the metal tub with one more steaming pot of water. He dipped his fingers into the tub to make sure the temperature was right.

  "That should do it. Climb on in."

  Fisher just looked at him with wide eyes and continued to shiver.

  "Come on now, you don't wanna go around smelling like piss, do ya?"

  Still, the boy made no effort.

  Trace sighed and squatted before him. "I wish you'd just tell me what you're thinking, I really do. But since you won't, I want you to know that it's okay to be scared. Hell, I'm a little scared myself. I also wish I could tell you there is no such thing as monsters, but we both know that ain't true—we've seen 'em. But Fisher, we're gonna be okay."

  Trace shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I don't know how I know that, I just do. I'm gonna do everything in my power to keep us all safe—you, me, Red, your sister, even Wen and the new people. I ain't gonna let anything happen to any of us."

  Fisher didn't say anything, but he slowly climbed over the edge of the wash tub and settled himself into the water. His big, dark eyes remained locked on his surrogate father.

  Trace nodded, and without another word, he knelt next to the tub and poured water over the boy's head.

  Chapter 21 – Sticky

  "They're beautiful." Red's mother pressed the fragrant wildflowers to her nose and breathed in. "Just perfect."

  Seeing her mother so happy brought a smile to her face. Her mother.

  Red hadn't seen her in so long, and relished the time she could spend with her. She continued to hand her the flowers, one after another in quick succession, until her mother's arms overflowed. Each flower represented one more moment with her mother, an extension of time, so she kept picking and adding to the bunch.

  She breathed in honeysuckle and Virginia bluebells—so sweet and potent—and brushed her mother's arm to feel the warmth of her skin, alive beneath her fingertips. The birds chirped in the trees, the breeze played through her hair, and the sun kissed her face. Her mother's sing-song voice and the sound of her laughter—it all felt so real.

  "Let's go home." Red reached out to take her mother's hand, but her ma flitted away, and all she grabbed was air.

  "Why the rush, sweet pea? Aren't you having fun?"

  "I want to see pa and the boys." Red handed her mother another freshly plucked flower. "Please?"

  Her mother started down the hillside and flowers fell from her arms as her hips sashayed from side to side. Red followed behind and walked over the discarded blooms.

  In the distance, smoke curled out of the fireplace and her younger brothers chased one another in a game of tag. The sound of an axe splitting logs echoed across the field, and she watched her father raise the axe once again.

  Red couldn't see them clearly, and the more she rubbed her eyes to adjust the focus, the worse it got, until everything blurred and smeared together.

  Her mother stopped moving. The rest of the flowers fell from her arms, and the wind picked them up and blew them randomly about.

  "Ma?" Red's chest tightened. Please, not again. I smelled the flowers! I smelled them!

  Her mother dropped onto all fours, her neck cracking as her head twisted around to glare at her from over the top of her shoulders. Her tongue slithered around the edges of her lips, licking at the air, while her eyes sunk into her skull and became wild with hunger.

  Not again!

  Her father and brothers closed the distance, and their moans became an evil chorus that grew louder and louder.

  Her mother lunged forward, but Red dove to the right and avoided her mangled mouth. She turned and tripped over her feet, but quickly gathered herself and climbed the hillside on all fours. I can't do this! Not again!

  The hill gave way and flattened as she climbed, the dirt crumbling in her hands. No matter how fast or high she climbed, it always ended up the same. She could never get away. Her mother snaked her hand forward and latched onto one of Red's ankles. Her father grabbed onto the other, and together they dragged her down the hill as she clawed at the ground. Her entire family pounced, restricting her movement by pinning her beneath their weight. They devoured her—first her arms, then her legs, and finally opening her stomach to remove her innards.

  Through the whole process, Red felt everything.

  ***

  Red opened her eyes, and nothing looked familiar. The bed. The room. None of it made sense. With great labor and pain, she turned her head to the side, playing along with the current illusion. Moonlight splashed through the tiny four-paned window and bathed the room in a white effervescent glow. A full moon. She couldn't see it, but no matter.

  Her arms and legs ached, and when she reached up to remove the blankets that covered her, a sharp pain radiated through her entire body, nearly causing her to vomit. Her body went rigid and struggled to follow her commands, but she pushed through it and forced herself into a sitting position.

  She grasped her head, pinched her eyes closed, and bit her lip so hard it drew blood. She'd never hurt this bad before. It had to be real.

  If so, she would kill Wen for failing to keep his promise to her. And when she finished with him, she'd move on to Trace, because it was probably his fault that Wen hadn't followed through. She shouldn't be alive, and they were to blame.

  Red planted her bare feet on the wooden floorboards and tried to stand, but her useless legs sent her sprawling to the ground. She tried to brace herself for the fall, but her weedy arms gave way and her head slammed against the side table, which sent the water pitcher toppling from its stand as well. Tiny lights skipped across her vision.

  This all felt very real, but when the door opened and a dark-haired girl stood in the frame, cast aglow in white light, Red wasn't so sure anymore. This room, this person—nothing was familiar.

  "Oh, my goodness! Here, let me help you." The girl knelt, slipped her hands under Red's arms, and lifted her back onto the bed.

  "There. Until your legs are ready to hold your weight, you're gonna need help getting around."

  The dark-haired beauty smiled, and Red wondered if she was some sort of angel, because someone that beautiful couldn't possibly be human. "The boys are gonna be so happy to know you're finally awake."

  The boys? Wen and Cowboy? Or was she referring to her brothers? Was she really awake?

  "Are you real?" Red's tongue and lips struggled to form words. It actually hurt to speak.

  The girl nodded. "I feel real."

  Her answer didn't help Red.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "Maybe." If eating tortured her as much as speaking, Red preferred to skip it all together.

  "Stay there. I'll be right back." The girl disappeared, leaving Red on her own to decipher the validity of her situation. Where in the hell am I, and who is that girl?

  A sticky wetness oozed down her back, and she reached behind to investigate. She brought her hand back in front and was surprised to find a dark, pasty substance coating her fingertips. Odd. She raised it to her nose, anticipating the smell of blood, but instead it smelled sweet—thyme, sage, honey, lavender, aloe. Very, very odd.

  The more she experienced, the less real it felt. This must be another dream to add to the many.

  A dark figure slid to a forceful stop in front of the door, clutching the frame for support in his breathless state. "You're awake!"

  He entered the moonlit room and Red's heart lifted. Cowboy, wearing nothing but long johns, his dark hair tousled in a wild mess. He'd never infiltrated her dreams before now, so she didn't know what to make of it. She couldn't imagine why she'd dream of a man in his underwear, but her dreams had been anything but logical.

  He knelt before her and cupped her face in his large han
ds. "How you feeling?"

  "I hurt." Everything ached, all the way to the marrow in her bones. She wanted to tell him not to touch her, but his hands felt remarkably warm and soft on her face.

  "But you're alive. You're awake and alive, and that's all that matters." His eyes glistened in the moonlight that highlighted the goofy grin on his face. He seemed so happy.

  Now, if only she understood why she didn't feel the same. "My back's all sticky."

  "That would be my doing," the dark-haired girl said. She stood in the doorway balancing a tray in her hands. "It's supposed to draw out the poison and ease the pain. I hope it helped."

  Red couldn't tell if her back felt any better than the rest of her body.

  "You thirsty?" the girl asked.

  Red nodded, and the girl handed a tin cup to Cowboy, who then held it gently to Red's lips.

  The water should have tasted cool and delicious, but it only intensified her dehydration as it burned down her throat. She gagged and pulled away, spilling the liquid down her neck.

  "Whoa." Cowboy caressed her arm. "Take it easy. Not too fast now."

  They tried again, but a smaller sip didn't garnish a better result. Red didn't understand why the water burned instead of quenched.

  "Okay." Cowboy set the cup to the side. "Small sips for now."

  Red reached forward and placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. "You guys aren't gonna try to eat me, are ya?"

  Cowboy laughed, and the girl put a hand over her mouth to stifle her own.

  "No," Cowboy said. "I'm a carnivore, not a cannibal."

  She would have wrapped her arms around his neck, but the thought of doing so, and the pain it would cause, was more than she could bear. Her hand against his face would have to do.

  ***

  Three weeks. Red couldn't believe it. A zombie attack had never rendered her unconscious for so long. Four days at the most. But three weeks? She shouldn't have survived. Yet, she did.

  The worst part wasn't that her body groaned and complained whenever she moved, but rather trying to catch up on everything she missed while she was "away." The fort. How the kids had fared. The new people. She'd lost so much time, and felt like a strange interloper in the midst of a group of people who had managed quite well without her.

  Red sat on the edge of the bed with her arms propped up on either side of the mattress, to help maintain balance. She wanted to just dive back into life, but her muscles and bones hadn't quite caught up with her mind. She'd been awake for two full days now, but she'd yet to leave the confines of her room.

  Cowboy had offered to carry her outside so she could take in some fresh air, but she'd turned him down. The thought of his touch sent spasms of pain shooting down her spine. No, when she left her room, it would be on her own accord. So far, it was a very slow process.

  "How're you feeling?" Wen stood in the open doorway and fidgeted with the hat in his hands.

  She smiled, aware that he was worried about their friendship and his broken promise to her.

  "I'm feeling a little better." Perhaps there was some truth to that. She hoped so, anyway.

  Wen nodded. "Is there anything I can get you?"

  "No. I think I'm fine."

  He nodded again, still fidgeting. "Caroline's working up another concoction for your back. I just saw her in the kitchen."

  Caroline. Another name to add to the ever-growing list of names she'd rather not know. It wasn't that she didn't like the dark-haired girl, who'd been nothing but kind to her. She just didn't need another person to worry about.

  Red had yet to meet Caroline's father, Ira, but she'd heard a lot about the silent, grandfatherly figure. From what Cowboy told her, Ira had taken quite a shine to Fisher, and vice versa. Apparently, they spent hours together in silence, enjoying one another's company.

  Caroline brushed past Wen as she entered Red's room, carrying her familiar bowl of herbs and rags. Red saw a flirtatious smile pass between the two, and wondered if Caroline had succumbed to Wen's charms. The next time she caught him alone, she'd have to ask.

  "Let me know if you need anything," Wen said. "Anything at all."

  Red smiled again. "Thanks, I will."

  When he turned to leave, Caroline shut the door to give Red some privacy. She helped to lower the gown from Red's shoulders, and peeled back the dressing that covered her entire back.

  Red's breath caught in her lungs each time Caroline dipped the rags in the bowl of clear water and gently dabbed at her raw skin.

  "It's looking better. If you'd seen it before, you'd be amazed at the difference."

  "Show me. I want to see." She could imagine it well enough—scars, torn flesh, and ragged bumps. It was different than the old bites that had healed-over on her legs and arms. These were worse. Although she didn't want to see, she must.

  Caroline stopped her hand in midair. "Are you sure?"

  No, I'm terrified. Red nodded.

  Caroline positioned the dressing mirror in front of Red, and then carefully helped her to her feet. Red could stand on her own now, whereas the day before she couldn't, so yes, she was getting better. Small progress, but progress nonetheless.

  With the gown covering her breasts, she turned around and peered over her shoulder at the image in the mirror. Nothing she'd imagined could have prepared her for the sight.

  Chunks of flesh torn from her frame made it impossible for the miniature canyons to heal. Dozens of teeth marks riddled her back and shoulders—not even an inch left spared. Very little of the top layer of skin remained, and what did appeared all but transparent, bluish and bruised.

  A fire wouldn't have been any less damaging.

  She couldn't breathe. Tears burned her eyes as she stared at her grotesque body, at the hideous monster she'd become—less like a human being, more like the undead creatures. She pushed against the mirror and its horrific reflection, tipping it backward on its legs. It fell and shattered into pieces across the floor before Caroline could catch it.

  Red crumpled to the ground amid the shards and buried her face in her shaking hands. She didn't want to live like this.

  "Red—"

  "Get out!" The last thing she wanted to see right now was the girl and her perfect, unbitten body. "Get out of here!"

  Caroline stumbled backward and made for the door, only to bump into Cowboy's chest. "What's going—?"

  Red swung her head around on her shoulders and the bones in her neck cracked, which caused her to remember her dream and the image of her mother turning. She glared at Cowboy and Caroline from her crouched position. Shards of glass bit into the flesh of her knees, but she felt none of it.

  "Get out! Get out!" she screamed. "Get out!"

  "Red, please—" Cowboy took a step toward her and reached out his hand.

  She lunged forward and clamped her teeth down on the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger in an attempt to provoke him. Pull your gun, pull your gun, pull your gun!

  But he didn't, not even when she bit harder and his bittersweet blood slipped down the back of her throat. She clamped down even more, and he screamed as she pierced through the delicate skin and rubbed her teeth together.

  He pushed against her until she finally gave in and fell back onto the floor. Shoot me! Do it!

  Instead, he cradled his injured hand against his chest and stared at her in disbelief. Why didn't he shoot? She would have.

  Wen appeared behind Cowboy and Caroline, and all three of them watched as she reached up and wiped her bloody lips with the back of her hand to make a point.

  She wished she could bite them all.

  Chapter 22 – Love You Forever

  It took eight stitches to close the wound. Caroline offered him a swig of whisky to take away the sting, but Trace refused the temptation. Getting roostered-up wouldn't help the situation one bit.

  What should he do with Red? Had she finally turned? No, not turned, but definitely highly volatile.

  Wen had barred her door so she couldn
't get out. She was in no shape to go anywhere, but none of them knew what she might try next, given her present state of mind. Who knew, maybe next time she'd bite off one of his digits.

  Trace winced as Caroline wrapped a bandage around his hand and tied it in place.

  "How does that feel?"

  "Fine, thanks."

  She sighed and proceeded to put the first aid kit away without another word. Caroline acted a little odd herself, talking and avoiding his gaze.

  "What's wrong with Red?" Wen handed Caroline some cotton scrubs and tweezers, but directed his question to Trace. "Why would she act out like that? I thought she was doing a'right."

  Trace shook his head. She'd been through a lot in the past few weeks, and endured more than most people could handle. Perhaps she'd hit her limit.

  "It's my fault." Caroline looked down at the table. "It's all my fault."

  "What are you talking about?" Wen placed his hand on her arm and waited until she looked up.

  "She wanted to see her back." Caroline batted back the tears in her eyes. "She wanted to know what it looked like."

  Trace slumped in his chair. It all made sense now.

  "I should've said no. I should've convinced her to wait—"

  "No," Trace interrupted her. "If she wanted to see it, there's no way you could've stopped her. She's stubborn that way."

  Wen nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she sure is. She would've found a way, with or without your help."

  "She seemed so tough, tougher than any woman I've ever met. I thought she could handle it." Caroline closed her eyes briefly before turning them on Trace. "I think she bit you because she didn't like what she saw and hoped you'd put her out of her misery."

  Caroline's words hit him like a horse kick to the chest. Shoot her? Never.

  Trace rested his arms on his knees and hung his head. He would have to convince Red of her beauty, when the only thing she saw in the mirror was her flaws. That might prove damn difficult.

  ***

  Curled up in a fetal position on the bed, Red hugged herself and stared at the wall. Her tears had long since dried up. She shouldn't have bit Cowboy. It had been a stupid thing to do, but in the moment, it seemed rational. She couldn't blame them for locking her inside the room—she herself didn't know what she was capable of.