Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis

by Eric A. Shelman

  “Exciting or not, Nel,” said Gem. “It’s dangerous. Be careful.”

  “Oh, I will, dude. I don’t plan to give you any more fuel for your sadness today, Gem. Promise.”

  Flex cringed at Nelson’s reference, but in the shadowy, gray night, he saw Gem nod with a sad smile on her face. She loved and understood Nelson, and knew that he would die for her without giving it a second thought. He was that kind of friend.

  Flex hoped it would never come to that.

  He and Gem stayed in front while Charlie and Dave took off around the left side.

  Hemp, Nelson and Punch moved toward the house. Punch reached the front door and tried the knob.

  “Locked,” he said. “That’s a good sign. All the front windows are intact, too.”

  “Could mean supplies,” said Nelson. “Maybe even some cookies.”

  “Even loaded up with preservatives, you’ll be lucky to find anything edible,” said Hemp.

  “I’ll take stale cookies over zombies like 80% of the time,” said Nelson.

  Flex silently wondered about that other 20% and just what situation would cause Nelson to choose zombies over stale cookies.

  Hemp slid up beside Punch and slipped his lock picking kit from his jacket pocket.

  “Keeping an eye out there, guys?” he asked.

  Gem and I faced the street and tried to differentiate between the blowing 3’ tall grass and the sometimes very sneaky walking dead.

  So far it was just grass.

  Flex turned back to see Hemp leaned forward, his headlight aimed dead on. The click was audible as Hemp straightened up and said, “That’s the tough one.”

  In another ten seconds he had the doorknob unlocked and the door swung in on its hinges.

  “You guys wait out here,” said Punch. “I’ll do this fast.” He carried an M27 like the one he carried in the Corps. He still had his tactical shotgun and he always packed it for trips into the badlands – complete with estrogen blocker flechette rounds – now so common everyone called them EBFRs.

  The Badlands were now what everyone called everywhere but Kingman.

  As Punch and Nelson stepped inside, Charlie and Dave reappeared around the far corner of the house, having completed their sweep of the perimeter.

  “Nothing out there?” asked Flex, stepping up onto the porch.

  “Nada,” said Dave. “Kinda sketchy with the tall grass, but nothing jumped out at us.”

  “I just want to get inside,” said Gem. “This fucking day is catching up with me.”

  Charlie said nothing; she just walked over and took Gem’s hand.

  Suddenly gunfire erupted from the house. Three short bursts, a brief pause, another series, then silence.

  Everyone flinched, eyeing the house, but Flex knew it was mainly an instinctive reaction to the possibility of flying lead; Punch had no doubt fired the shots, though, and he would never fire in the direction of the living – unless the living is who he wanted to kill.

  “Sounds pretty minimal,” said Charlie, walking inside with her crossbow up, and Flex and Gem on her heels.

  Nelson ran to the door and said, “Gem … I mean … just hold on for a minute, okay? Just a sec.”

  “What’s up, Nel?” asked Gem. “I don’t need to be babied.”

  “It’s … nothing, really,” said Nelson. “Flex, maybe we can use your help.”

  “What the hell is it Nelson?” asked Charlie.

  “It’s … well, just take my word for it and stay out there for a minute. The house is good, but this made kind of a mess.”

  “I was doing relatively okay most of the trip,” said Gem. “Now that I feel like collapsing we have a holdup.”

  Flex said, “I’ll help. This’ll be fast. Kick your feet up on this bench, Gem.” He patted the rusty, wrought iron bench on the front porch and reached in his pocket. “Have a stale smoke.” He dropped the pack of Marlboros on the bench with the pack of matches. They had taken to storing the old cartons of smokes in a humidor they took from a smoke shop, but no matter how they tried, the fifteen year old cigarettes were still pretty raspy.

  Flex flipped on his headlamp and walked inside. The house was nice. Hardwood floors throughout with nice, albeit a bit dusty, area rugs. There was a stack of firewood waiting by a stone hearth fireplace, too. Cobwebs covered the logs but they were dry and the fireplace looked like it could handle a blazing big fire.

  “Back here, Flex,” said Nelson.

  Dave stood behind Flex. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Not sure yet,” said Flex. “We’re about to find out.”

  As they rounded the corner, two pairs of legs jutted out from what appeared to be a coat closet. Flex and Dave drew closer and Nelson stood aside.

  “Fuck, am I seein’ double?” asked Flex.

  “I guess they were twins,” said Punch. “Now they got twin bullet holes.”

  “I get it,” said Flex. He stared at the boys, who could be no older than their Flexy had been. Gem didn’t need to see this, and Flex understood why they told her to wait.

  A smear of black goo and bullet holes adorned the back of the coat closet where they had been standing, but now the boys sat on the floor at the base of the wall, their dead eyes staring sightless. Their hair was an identical, wispy red, and the only thing that could have told anyone which was which was their clothes. The one on the left wore a Sum 41 tee shirt, and the dead kid on the right wore a collared, button-down shirt. Both wore jeans.

  “Let’s take ‘em outside,” said Flex. “Out back.”

  “I’ll get the door,” said Nelson. “You guys are better equipped to haul ‘em.” He ran out.

  Besides the blue jeans, the only other matching article of clothing the twins wore were high-top, canvas sneakers, the kind that Isis liked to wear. Vans, Flex recalled.

  Punch leaned over and pulled the torso of the one boy forward, got on his knees, and threw the corpse over his shoulder. Flex and Dave gave him room as he grunted to his feet.

  Flex looked at the other body and shook his head. He was 58 years old and his back hurt. He stared at the boy, then back at Dave. “I need your help, buddy,” he said.

  “We got it,” said Dave. “You’re gettin’ too old for this shit, right?”

  “I only wish that was a joke,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll get his right side and you get his left.”

  Together, they knelt down and took an arm and a leg. Neither one lifted yet.

  “Fucker stinks,” said Dave. “But he looks pretty light.”

  They shifted the boy to center the weight.

  “No food in what … fourteen years?” said Flex.

  “Guess they were hiding in the closet together?” asked Dave.

  “I’m sure that neither of them expected to turn,” said Flex. “Same DNA, same metabolism. Must have happened at exactly the same time or one of them would’ve had some interesting injuries.”

  “Ready?” asked Dave.

  “Go,” said Flex. They started the lift and Flex got one knee beneath him and pushed up. His grunt was more pronounced than Punch’s had been, but at least the kid was off the floor.

  They turned toward the door to the living room, where they had to go to get to the kitchen. As they stepped out of the hall, Gem was there. Her headlamp shone right on the boy’s face and she stared at the bullet holes dotting the middle of his forehead.

  “Gem, you weren’t sup –”

  “Too late,” she said, staring at the dead thing. “Don’t worry, babe. That thing is not our son. Flex Sheridan Junior is back in Kingman, waiting for us to bring his sister home so we can bury him.”

  Flex said nothing. He nodded and looked at Dave. Together they carried the dead young rotter out the back door.

  Gem never needed to know about the twin.

  *****

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Flex couldn’t sleep. He got up and walked into the living room where an enormous fire still burned in the fireplace. They’d had to check the
flue before starting it, because there was no telling what might have crawled up or down the chimney over the last decade and a half.

  It was clear, but the flue was closed. Nobody enjoyed the fire very long, for they were exhausted. When Flex sat on the sofa, he was surprised to hear Hemp speak.

  “You too, eh?” he said, sitting up. “I don’t blame you, Flex.”

  “Jesus, man. Didn’t see you there. Mind if I smoke in here?”

  “I wish I smoked,” he said. “I could use a little nicotine now and then.”

  Flex lit a stale Marlboro and braced himself against the first hit. It was always the harshest until he got used to it. He exhaled, blowing a few smoke rings as he did so; an old habit he couldn’t break.

  “Flex, we haven’t had any time alone, but I just want to let you know that I’m barely holding it together. I loved your boy like my own. Every minute I spent with him was like knowing you when you were a boy, I imagine. Smart, inquisitive, and a little damned John Wayne if I’ve ever met one … and I have.”

  Flex stared at the fire that was half the size it was when everyone went to bed. The feeling of crying came over him, but the tears had dried up.

  “I’m just so sorry, friend,” added Hemp.

  “Thank you buddy,” he said. “I’ve been thinkin’ … but it’s … it’s crazy. The minute I lost him I couldn’t stand the thought of never hugging him again, to never be able to just sit around and talk about what was goin’ on with him.” Flex looked at Hemp, and like a good friend, he just nodded.

  “Hemp, I realize it just happened a few hours ago, and my head is no doubt really fucked up, but I can’t stop thinking that Gem could …” Flex stopped and shook his head and this time the tears did come again. “Fuck it,” he finished. “I’m an idiot and I’m just talkin’ crazy.”

  Hemp swung his feet off the couch and looked at Flex. “Flex, yes, you’re in tremendous mourning and it is too soon to being considering it without having a conversation with Gem, but it’s not crazy. You and Gem can have another baby. She’s not the oldest woman to have a healthy baby, and at almost 47, she’s nearing the cutoff, but she’s not there.”

  “Jeez, man, how’d you know?”

  “I was afraid to say anything because of course your son cannot be replaced; you wouldn’t want that anyway. But I’ve also got another idea that could speed the process.”

  Flex looked at him in the firelight. “9 months is 9 months, buddy, plus the time it’s gonna take for a couple of old farts like us to get it done. I have no idea if I’m shootin’ blanks at this age.”

  “Chances are, you’ve still got some swimmers.”

  Flex nodded and stared at the fire for a full minute. He looked at Hemp, who was already looking at him. “So,” said Flex, “Go ahead and tell me what you mean by speeding the process.”

  “Well,” said Hemp. “As you know, I’ve had years to consider this and calculate things based on Max and Isis’ development from childhood to adulthood.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Flex. “It’s what you do. Analyze shit.”

  “How would you feel about exposing Gem to the red-eye vapor the moment she conceives?”

  Flex turned his face slowly toward Hemp, and he was not smiling.

  “Buddy, to be honest, I wanna kill every red-eye I see. I fucking literally hate ‘em. I never felt that way about the others; the dumb ones. They run on instinct and orders from the red-eyes. Nothin’ else. The red-eyes, well, they’re somehow more than that. I almost feel hatred from them. Vengeance. Like they’re keeping score and getting even with us.”

  “Their actions and reactions are as much instinct as the others, Flex,” said Hemp.

  “Anyway. How do you think that would make a difference? Exposing her early, I mean.”

  Hemp leaned forward and interlocked his fingers. “Once born, they develop much faster than unaffected children,” he said. “Their brains, their bodies, even their emotional maturity. I believe the gestation period may be cut to as much as one third of the normal time. Perhaps more.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?” asked Flex.

  “I am not shitting on you,” said Hemp.

  Flex laughed for the first time since his son died. He felt instantly guilty.

  “It would do something else, Flex,” said Hemp.

  “What’s that?”

  Hemp was about to answer, but Flex held up his hand. “Nope, nope. I got it. And you’re right. If Gem and I have a baby, it’s gonna have some abilities that can keep it safe.”

  Hemp pointed at him. “Exactly. And others. Like Isis and Max.”

  “Hemp,” said Flex, “be honest with me.”

  “Always, brother,” said Hemp.

  “What’s it been like having Max? Like he is, I mean.”

  “As a scientist, it’s been fascinating,” he said. “As a father, it’s been extraordinary. Flex, I was playing chess – and losing to him – since he was two years old. He’s never cried because he can tell us what he wants. Now he’s an asset to the community, and he’s every bit a son to me as Trina is a daughter to you, the only difference being that he’s my direct blood.”

  “Am I wrong to have some hope here?” asked Flex.

  “In this world, my friend, hope is a guiding light. It makes us push on to that next adventure. To open another door. Have hope, Flex. Make your own hope. Talk to Gem about it.”

  Flex felt some butterflies in his stomach, but their fluttering also chased away a bit of his sadness.

  “I just gotta make sure this isn’t like getting a new puppy when your dog passes on,” said Flex. “Our reasons have to be right.”

  “I have a reason for you, Flex,” said Hemp.

  “What’s that, man?” asked Flex.

  “This world without a human being borne of Flex and Gem Sheridan is not as good a world. I’ve no doubt that Flexy would have done great things on the shoulders of parents who fight and protect and love harder than any people I’ve ever met.”

  Hemp stopped for a moment, wiping his own tears away. “So please, Flex. Talk to Gem. Do the world a favor. Have your special child. We need that child to be born.”

  Flex stood. “Get up, man.”

  Hemp stood, and Flex gave him a hug. A long, tight hug. He pulled away and kept his hands on Hemp’s shoulders. “I feel that way about Max,” he said. “Just knowing he’s a bit of you and Charlie made me love the kid from the first time I laid eyes on him.”

  “He loves you both,” said Hemp. “I think the only one he loves more is Isis.”

  “He does have a thing for her, doesn’t he?” said Flex.

  “Anyway,” said Hemp. “Down to brass tacks. I went outside for a look around earlier, and I have a feeling this is a ghost town.”

  “Why?” asked Flex.

  “Just intuition, that’s all,” said Hemp. “Like I said, I went outside for a few minutes before you came out. I found a ladder leaning against that other house, so I used it to get on the roof. I looked toward town and saw nothing even remotely like a light or a fire.”

  “Shit, Hemp,” said Flex. “Why would you do that?”

  “You know at night you can always see something out there. Some survivor or other making do.”

  “There was nothing?” asked Flex.

  “An enormous lot of it,” said Hemp.

  Flex looked at his watch. “It’s three in the morning,” he said. “Sure the world’s just not asleep?”

  Hemp sighed. “I could be wrong. We obviously don’t have line-of-sight to the entire town, plus people are more cautious about light. I’ll withhold final judgment until we drive in tomorrow.”

  Flex lit another smoke. “Last one,” he said. “Then I’m gonna lie in bed thinkin’ about what you told me. Then I’m gonna figure out a way to tell Gem what I want to do.”

  “Good luck,” said Hemp. “But you might find it’s a few days too soon. Play that one by ear.”

  “I’ll see if I can’t plant some seeds,” said Flex
.

  “Are we talking tearing a condom?” asked Hemp, smiling.

  “Not those kinda seeds, man,” laughed Flex. “Not yet. Plus, she’s on the pill, for what those expired things are worth,” said Flex. “No latex bullshit shall come between me and my woman.”

  “Night, Flex. Get some sleep. See you in three hours or so.”

  “Night, Hemp. Thanks for being my best friend.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Flex. And I mean that.”

  *****

  When Flex finally awoke, he was surprised to see it was 7:30 AM. Gem was not in the bed beside him, so he walked down the hall and pushed another door open. Dave and Nelson were there, lying on their backs in a king sized bed, but Dave obviously slept light because as the door swung inward, he dropped his left hand and snatched his gun. His eyes were still glued shut, though.

  With that, Nelson sat up, his hand coming up from beneath his pillow with a Ninja star.

  “Whoa, the fuck!” said Flex, ducking. “Don’t shoot and don’t throw!”

  “Nah, dude,” said Nelson. “I gotcha, bro. Sensed it was you. Not going to take you out.”

  Dave looked at his watch. “Jesus!” he said. “Wow, I musta been wiped.”

  “I think we all were,” said Flex. “Sorry you didn’t bring Serena?” he asked.

  “I miss her,” said Dave. “But Nel didn’t bring Rachel, so all’s fair.”

  “She’s takin’ care of our rug rat,” said Nelson.

  “If you can call a ten-year-old a rug rat,” said Flex.

  “Good point,” said Nelson.

  Nelson and Rachel named their little girl Lita. She came out as skinny as a rail and still was. Nelson went out every day and found the most beautiful wildflower he could and brought it back to put in her hair. During the winter when flowers were not around, Nelson had a collection of silk flowers from which to choose.

  “See you boys out there. I think Gem’s gonna want to get an early start.”

  “Too late for that, but we’ll manage,” said Dave.

  Flex left the door open and went into the living room. Gem had gotten the Coleman stove out of the trunk, along with eggs from the ice chest. The house smelled good and Flex found he was ravenous.