Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis

by Eric A. Shelman

  They passed a sign that said, “Kingman – 3 mi”.

  “Get on the radio,” said Flex. “Charlie, see if you can get someone from town. We might be close enough.”

  Behind him, he heard a click. Charlie said, “Kingman, it’s Charlie. Come in. Kingman, it’s Charlie Chatsworth.”

  There could not have been a ten-second pause when a voice came on the line.

  “Charlie! Oh, my God! It’s Vikki Solms. Is everyone with you? Are you guys okay?”

  “Yes, yes, Vikki,” she said. It was one of the three sisters. “We’re okay. But someone is headed there, and he is not fine. Definitely not fine.”

  “We’re not fine, either,” she said. “Two babies were born, and both of their moms had agreed to be exposed to the vapor of the Mothers.”

  “Yeah, and what?” asked Charlie.

  “They’re sirens,” said Hemp, beside her.

  Charlie absorbed what he said as Hemp touched Flex on the shoulder. “Bloody hell, Flex. We left them at the worst possible time.”

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t have a choice,” said Gem. “The foursome in that car behind us made sure of that.”

  “Doc Scofield said he thinks they’re all coming from Wichita,” said Vikki. “Red-Eyes and rotters. A few hundred of them over the last day and a half.”

  “Ready for around fifteen hundred more?”

  “No!” cried Vikki. “We’re really not! We can barely keep the pit clear as it is!”

  “Fortify and get as many people with guns to the town entry as you can,” said Flex. “The word we have is there are multiple, large semi rigs and trailers filled with them, along with some old, circus cage cars.”

  “Can’t you stop them?” asked Vikki, desperation in her words. “I’ll let them know, but I … how close are they?”

  “We’re not sure, Vik, but likely any minute,” said Flex. He turned to Hemp. “Hemp, anything you can offer?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Give me the radio.”

  Flex passed it to him.

  “Stop the car Gem!” shouted Charlie, and Gem looked back to the roadway ahead to see truck wheels, steel and other debris blocking the road. She slammed on the brakes and threw everyone forward as the Crown Vic slid to a stop.

  The radio in Hemp’s hand clicked again, but it was not Vikki.

  “That debris is what is left of the cage cars and other tractor-trailers.” It was Beauty’s voice, transmitting from the Hummer.

  “Were they filled with Mothers and Hungerers?” asked Hemp.

  “Yes,” Beauty said.

  “Fucking zombies,” said Gem.

  “That is what you call them,” Beauty said. “Isis, Max and I feel the horde again. They are nearing Kingman.”

  “Beauty?” asked Gem, her voice calm.

  “Yes, Gem?” she replied.

  “Where is Maestro?”

  “I do not know this,” she said. “But that,” she said, pointing, “is the car in which Magas usually travel. The only one still intact.”

  Flex picked up the radio. “Everyone get out and have your weapons ready. We need to investigate what went on here.”

  *****

  The group of eleven spread out as Isis, Max, Flex, Gem, Nelson, Trina, and Dave approached the car. Beauty came behind them.

  Flex couldn’t help the feeling that they had been playing catch-up since Maestro reconfigured the maze and left town. The people of Kingman could be mere minutes from doom.

  “What now?” asked Flex.

  Hemp, Charlie and the others walked around, picking through the debris inspecting the devastation.

  Isis said, “This lock is melted away.”

  “What the hell?” asked Punch.

  Isis lowered both of her arms, her hands splayed open at her sides. As she swept them backward together, her eyes glowed bright red and the door of the trailer swung outward.

  “I’m not gonna lie,” said Gem. “Isis, I’ve known you since you were a baby, and that just gave me chills.”

  “Megan,” said Isis.

  The Maga stood inside the trailer, directly in the center of the open door, facing them. Her expression, while subdued, was one of relief. Behind her appeared to be a stack of dead bodies, but there was no stench from within.

  “Isis, Max and Beauty,” said Megan. “I was able to feed them the WAT-5.”

  Flex glanced at Gem and waved Hemp over. Flex did not want to call out, as he saw the many Magas sleeping on the floor of the trailer behind Megan, and he did not want to awaken them until a plan was in place.

  Hemp reached them and looked inside the trailer, holding a hand out to Megan. She looked at him, then at his hand for a long moment. Then she simply crouched down and made the small leap to the ground without acknowledging Hemp’s offer to help.

  He lowered his hand, looking somewhat perplexed. “How did you manage this?” Hemp asked. “We assumed that plan was dead once we were outsmarted by Maestro.”

  “Alyssa was able to transfer the wafers to me before she was interrogated,” said Megan.

  “Beauty told us she was killed,” said Gem. “If that is true, we’re so sorry, Megan. It wasn’t our intention to come here and put your family and friends at risk.”

  She nodded. “Alyssa’s ending did not come quickly, nor was it easy for her to endure,” she said. “Maestro does not tolerate deceit.” Megan looked at Beauty for a moment before turning back to Gem.

  “I understand that what you have done is to release us,” said Megan. “As sacrifice was made by your founding fathers, our own sacrifices must be made to gain our freedom.”

  Dave whistled. “It’s that awkward moment when you realize women raised in cages understand our framers’ intentions better than the American voters did.”

  “Why did you use the WAT-5 here?” asked Hemp.

  “Because they stopped to feed us,” said Megan. “You see, there is never a time when we do not assert our will – or Maestro’s will – on the Mothers. It is what prevents them from entering their destructive mode. Should we cease our efforts, they recognize only that they are imprisoned and they must escape. Only our imposed will allows them to exhibit a sense of calm.”

  “So you’re saying that anytime they’re trapped, they start that crazy vibration thing?” asked Nelson.

  “Yes,” said Beauty. “Unless it is quelled by our commands. As for why Maestro ordered us to be fed when he did, it is because he realized we would need our maximum strength to control the Mothers for the Kingman slaughter. It is only because of you and learning of Kingman that he felt it was necessary to go immediately in case you had all escaped Hoisington. He feared you would alert Kingman to his existence.

  “Hells yes we’d alert them,” said Charlie, who had come over to listen. “And we’ll fight him together. We’re a tight group. A guy like Maestro can’t be allowed to live as long as he threatens our existence.”

  “Maestro is dangerous, no matter whether he is alone or with others,” said Megan. “He knows that even when the Mothers are merely idle, they fight us. They fight us for control over their abilities.

  “I tainted the food, but if I had possessed the paper containing the words Isis had re-created, I might have been able to convince the other Magas that Maestro does not have any right to wield power over them or anyone else.”

  “She gave the words of freedom to me,” said Beauty. She held up the paper and looked at each of them.

  “I had only your wafers,” said Megan. “I carried out the plan here. I felt it was better to release the Mothers.”

  “How long have the Magas been sleeping?” asked Gem, nodding her head toward the sleeping young women.

  “I do not have a concept of time,” she said. “Not long. When they went to sleep, they released the Mothers.” She looked around the scene with the deteriorated big rigs and trailers. “They used their destructive powers.”

  “Yeah, Max was born in the middle of one of those sessions,” said Nelson. “I’ll never fo
rget that.”

  “We’re only three miles from Kingman according to that sign,” said Flex. “Hemp, any ideas? Do we let them sleep or chance waking them and have them re-join Maestro, wherever he is?”

  “Beauty, do you know where Maestro is? Is he with the Mothers and Hungerers?” asked Hemp.

  “The Mothers would have killed him without the Magas controlling,” said Megan. “Unless you find his body among this devastation, he is alive. I heard the sound of a smaller engine departing. I do not know if it was Maestro.”

  “Let’s assume it was,” said Punch, walking up. “Most of them are eaten, but I didn’t find any remains with that fuckin’ crazy conductor tattoo of his.”

  “It is better to assume he lives,” said Megan.

  “Agreed,” said Isis.

  “Do you believe we can convince them to help us?” asked Flex. “If we wake them up?”

  “Megan, Beauty,” said Max. “You guys know them best. What do you think?”

  “Almost half of them are my offspring,” said Megan. “One of them told Maestro of our consorting with you. I know not which one. She cannot be trusted.”

  “But dudes, maybe she can be convinced,” said Nelson. “Maybe with the threat of great bodily harm.”

  “Nelson!” said Dave. “What the hell’s gotten into you, buddy?”

  Nelson threw Dave a sideways look. “Dude, I don’t mean for real, ‘cause I’m not like that. Just to throw a scare into them, bud.”

  “Who would be most believable?” asked Dave. “Not me. We need someone imposing.”

  “I say Punch,” said Nelson. “He’s got the whole U.S. Marine badass thing going.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Taylor, walking up with a partially burned sword of some kind. “Someone got the better of a Mother,” she said. “Found this sticking out of one of their heads over there.”

  “That sword once belonged to Maestro,” said Beauty, her eyes fixated on the rusted, bloody blade. “That weapon was often used at the killing tree at our birthplace, so is well known and greatly feared by the Magas. But you are not adequate, Taylor. Maestro, a man, has dominated us since the days of our births. The Magas will be more easily convinced they are in danger of losing their lives if a man wields that weapon.”

  “I got this,” said Punch. He pulled off his shirt revealing a large tattoo of a coiled Cobra in mid-strike, emblazoned on his chest and abdomen. “Gimme that machete. It ain’t no demonic symphony conductor, but it’s got its own evil charm.”

  “We must make sure they are secured within the container before making our appeal. Do we have light?” asked Megan.

  “Hold up,” said Punch.

  He ran to the GTO and opened the door. He leaned in, and when he came back out, he held his tactical shotgun.

  Jogging back to the container, he said, “Get ready.” He then ran alongside it, firing the shotgun at an upward angle, peppering its length with buckshot holes that punched through the upper side and the roof, sending shafts of silver sunlight poking through the darkness within.

  “Some of them are stirring,” said Flex. “Punch, best get inside. Bring the sword and that bear of a shotgun. Who else goes in?”

  “Us,” said Isis, indicating to Max, Megan and Beauty. “If we can’t convince them, we’ll have to kill them, as painful as that will be for us. Flex, bar the door once we go in, would you?”

  Flex felt a shiver run down his spine. The girls, known as Magas, were all in their teens and pre-teens. While most of them looked like young women, they were essentially children.

  But they were not Isis. They were not Max. They had not been raised with love, but hate. They had not been taught to protect, but to command death.

  Isis was right. If they did not comply, they were as dangerous as the Mothers and Hungerers.

  When the door swung closed, Flex picked up a downed fencepost and jammed it against the door.

  He looked at Gem and the others. None of them said a word. “Even if it’s not somethin’ you normally put on your checklist,” said Flex, “it might be a good time to pray.”

  *****

  The sun was high in the sky. The Magas, along with Isis, Max and Punch, had been inside for nearly half an hour. God knew where the Mothers and Hungerers were at this point.

  Nelson, Taylor and Trina used the Hummer’s winch to pull the scattered debris out of the road enough to make a path. Once it was clear, the travel trailer holding the Magas could be dropped onto the hitch on the Hummer. Everything was still intact on that trailer, but the truck that had pulled it was deconstructed.

  The roads had been cleared in twenty-five minutes, but somehow, convincing a group of frightened but powerful women to help them was taking longer. Flex checked his watch again. Forty minutes since they went inside. They needed to get to Kingman.

  “Can’t wait anymore,” he said, shaking his head.

  He kicked the post away and pounded on the door, but as he drew back his fist to hit it a third time, it pushed outward.

  “I think we got through to ‘em,” said Punch, jumping out. Beauty, Isis and Max followed.

  Punch pulled the door open wide, and the rest of the Magas walked to the edge to exit the trailer.

  As Flex, Dave and Punch moved to take their hands and assist them, the Magas pulled away from them, fear on their faces.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Nelson.

  “They are not accustomed to being helped by men,” said Beauty. “In their lives, men have never once been subservient to women.”

  “It’s not being subservient,” said Dave. “It’s called being a gentleman.”

  “Please,” said Megan. “Allow them to exit on their own. They may eventually understand what your world is like, but this will only delay our mission.”

  Over the next fifteen minutes, they discussed what would take place. It was agreed that the Magas would call the Mothers back and order them to move the Hungerers as well, but if their proximity was too close to the newborn sirens in Kingman, it could be fruitless.

  “Okay, Magas,” said Isis. “Begin.”

  It was not something that could be seen; the call of the Magas to the Mothers was a matter of a mental decision. It was an opening of a mind gate.

  It took no more than fifteen minutes before Maga 11 said, “They do not come, Isis.”

  “This is Déjà vu all over again,” said Gem.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The many young and powerful women with glowing, red eyes, stared toward Kingman, silently, fruitlessly calling to the Mothers.

  “I feel them,” said Isis. She felt them as she had in Kingman. They were there, but they were not responding. Isis knew there was one thing she could not feel, but that she understood.

  “We have called them for the better part of an hour now,” she said. “They do not come.”

  The Magas appeared confused. There had not been a time when the Mothers did not respond to them.

  Isis said, “Megan, Beauty. I have an important question.”

  Both raised their eyebrows in anticipation.

  “Do your Maga babies call to the Mothers unintentionally? This is what our Maga infants do.”

  Megan shook her head. “That is what I did as an infant, and Alyssa as well. It has not been an issue with our offspring. It may be an evolutionary change, but while the ability to call them is powerfully strong in infancy – at least a hundredfold stronger than any adult, first or second generation – they must be told when to initiate their summons.”

  “Not so with ours,” said Isis. “They call from birth until they learn how to cease their call.”

  Beauty’s eyes grew concerned. “How many babies are in Kingman calling to them?”

  “Two as far as we know,” said Charlie. “Is that enough to outpull all of you?”

  “Yes, Charlie,” said Megan. “If there was ever a question, there is none now.” She extended her arm, palm open and swiped it in the air toward the many Magas who stared at them in silence.<
br />
  “Wow,” said Nelson. “Two babies against like forty-something Magas. Will proximity help? If you’re like right there near them?”

  “Our control over the Mothers has never ceased before now,” said Beauty. “We have never had to experiment with such things.”

  Flex jogged around to the front of the trailer, then ran back, winded. “Everything’s intact on that hitch,” she said, wheezing. “Let’s get it hooked up and get going.”

  Charlie looked at Megan and Beauty and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Can we trust these women?” she asked.

  Megan smiled. “As I said before, half are my daughters, though that word does not carry the same emotional connections as it clearly does with your people. We have been born to all of this, therefore, our understanding of love and this family bond you speak of is almost incomprehensible.”

  “You know the meaning of incomprehensible, but not love,” said Charlie. “To me, that’s incomprehensible.”

  *****

  When the Mothers and Hungerers escaped, Maestro did not have the key for the trailer containing the Magas. They had stopped controlling them for a reason unknown to him, and even as he ran to escape, he knew that with one look, they would comply with his commands again and quell the uprising.

  Jerry Lee, who he watched being eaten alive by the undead creatures had one of the keys, and another of his men – who had fallen quickly to the ravenous humanoids – had the other.

  None of that was clear in Maestro’s head at the time because he was running for his life.

  As it was, he had nothing. The Mothers and Hungerers were out of his control without the Magas, and he had begun to follow them to where they were drawn.

  At the obvious epiphany that the powerful creatures were out of his control without his Magas, he knew he had no choice but to go back and retrieve them. If they had to walk into Kingman, they would.