Blood 4 Life

by M. Lorrox

  Eddy is fully aflame. He’s inspired to fight back, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t move, but he shakes in anger. He curls his lip and starts to open his mouth to speak.

  Sadie stands up in a flash, clapping her hands. “EDDY!”

  Startled, he looks at her.

  “Go.”

  Eddy’s eyes water as he absorbs the moment; he feels anger, frustration, sadness, defeat, and shame. He turns his head, lowers it, and trudges away. After a few steps, he looks up, and he runs the rest of the way to his room. He is about to slam the door—Minnie. He shuts the door without a sound and crashes to his bed.

  Sadie glares at Charlie and snaps at him. “Well, you certainly handled that just perfectly. Nicely done.”

  He meets her gaze. “Thanks. I thought you’d be upset if I tore his arms off, so I didn’t.” He closes his eyes and turns away. “I’m going to bed.” As he walks through the kitchen, he unclenches his fists and shakes loose his hands. Speaking to no specific direction, he says, “Good night, Mary.”

  Mary is up in her room, sitting cross-legged on the air mattress. She holds the ouroboros pin in her hand and runs her finger over it, tracing the infinity symbol. She bites her lip. Good night, dumbass.

  Eddy lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He decides he should see how long he can spite his urge to blink. His eyes are moist, so that helps. He holds them open until they burn. Past the burn, until they feel like they’re on fire. Still…burning…then he squeezes them closed.

  He squeezes the pain out of his eyes with his palms, and he feels the glass beads of the bracelet on his cheek. He sits up and looks at it. She’s such a badass. He rolls the beads with his fingers, looking to see if he can notice the powder inside move. He can’t. It’s packed and compressed. How does she make these?

  He imagines the procedures done in darkness, hidden in a lab broken into late at night. He imagines her using simple tools but alternative processes, like an old-time alchemist trying to create gold.

  I bet this is worth a lot. There’s probably, like, twenty beads, and each holds a pint’s worth of hemoglobin? This could save dozens of lives… I could save dozens of lives.

  He drops his hands. Why did she give this to me? Did she see what I want to become? Maybe she did…

  She must. She must believe in me.

  Eddy grabs his phone from his desk and starts to text Jess, but then he sets it down. He could join them on the big hunt tomorrow, proving to himself and to Charlie that he really is a warrior. But it’s dangerous, and his parents would be royally pissed at him for doing it. Going on the hunt won’t encourage Dad to take me as his squire.

  Eddy could wait. He could bide his time until they go to DC, and he could keep working on his dad until he relents and accepts him as his squire. That feels so lame.

  He sighs, then replays the conversation he had downstairs in his mind. Dad said, “Why do you want to be a squire, kid?” and I said, “To share in your duty and to continue the family tradition of service,” and he went all, “In Latin it means you’re a slave. Yada yada yada.” He doesn’t understand. That’s all I’ve ever wanted—to have a higher purpose than just myself.

  Glancing around his room, he sees some photos he pinned to his wall—of his friends. Of June, of Tomas, of Jess, and of Joe. He looks at a picture of himself and Minnie from about a year ago. She was in danger today because of the zombies. All my friends are in danger, way more than Minnie was. Going to DC won’t help them here—it won’t help them right now. But I CAN help protect them…

  Right now.

  With a deep breath, he glances over his shoulder toward his door, thinking about his parents. So what if they’ll be pissed? My friends need protecting, and the House of Elders and the Order of Knights aren’t going to rescue them. I do have a duty, and it’s to them.

  He picks up his phone and sends his text to Jess:

  I’m in for tomorrow. Let me

  know where to meet. #ZundayFunday

  The night passed quietly, and in the morning, the family wakes to Rusty barking through the window. Charlie didn’t sleep well, and he feels extra grumpy. “Rusty. Shut up.” He flips over onto his belly and covers his head with the blanket.

  Sadie stretches and sits up on the side of the bed. She yawns and says over her shoulder to Charlie, “Good morning.”

  “Mmmrrrrrr.”

  She looks around the room, sees some laundry piling up that needs to be washed, some books that need to be put away, and a couple empty or nearly empty glasses throughout the room. Later. She lies back down, but she lies on top of Charlie. He groans.

  You’re such a silly man. She pulls the covers off his head and whispers in his ear as she plays with his hair. “Baby…baby…I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “Mmm?”

  She works an elbow under the covers and reaches her hand down, caressing his ribs. “I’ll make you some coffee if you go talk to your son.”

  Charlie flips his head over to the other side, moaning. His words are half muffled and slurred by his face being squished against the bed. “Mno, fhe’s ROUR thon.”

  Sadie laughs. “And why is he specifically MY son?”

  “Vecouzz vu bade him.”

  “Yeah, with your help!” She digs into his skin with her nails.

  “GAH!” He shakes her off; he’s startled awake by the pain. “Those nine months he was inside you…” He yawns. “He must have picked up some of your attitude.”

  She lowers her voice. “My attitude?”

  “Yeah. He gets it from you. That and your speed.” Charlie yawns again. “And probably your good looks.”

  “And what do you think he gets from you, hmm?”

  Charlie flops back onto the bed, facing up. “Oh, that’s easy. Stubbornness.” He closes his eyes.

  Sadie smiles and snorts at him. “Yyyuuuupp.” She pats him on the chest. “So” -pat- “do” -pat- “we” -pat- “have” -Pat- “a” -Pat- “Deal?” -PAT!-

  He grimaces at her game. “FINE.” He throws off the covers and stands up facing her in his underwear. “I’ll go talk to YOUR son.”

  Sadie gets up to dress, “’Kay. I’ll start the coffee.”

  Charlie throws on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, walks to Eddy’s room, and knocks on the door. There’s no answer. After a couple rounds of knocking, Charlie is frustrated. “Eddy, I’m coming in.”

  Inside, there’s no Eddy.

  Charlie stands there, bewildered. “Huh.” He closes the door and walks downstairs.

  Eddy left early and caught a ride with Jess and Joe. They’re being driven to Asheville by their dad, David. He’s a stern and traditional man, with sharp eyes and a beard. His plaid shirt wraps over his belly and is tucked into his jeans, which are, in turn, tucked into his boots. He drives his extended-cab pickup calmly through the streets, making small talk.

  “So, Eddy, how’s everyone at home? Charlie, Sadie, and…oh, I’m sorry, what’s your little sis’ name?”

  “Minnie. They’re all good. You know, as good as you can be, I guess.”

  “Glad to hear it. Times are tough these days, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah.”

  David comes to an intersection and has to stop. There aren’t any cars, but there’s a zombie moving about up ahead. It looks like one leg got caught in a big machine or something: a piece of bone protrudes from the side of its calf, and its foot is missing. The zombie hobbles along, “walking” on the rounded pegs of bone. It’s holding something furry and brown. David pauses and thinks. “Say, Eddy, mind if I put that zombie out of its misery?”

  Eddy looks up and sees it. Yikes, it looks real messed up…like that matters. “Yeah, totally. Go for it.”

  David turns to face Eddy. “You sure? Your parents won’t mind?”

  Eddy shakes his head. “No.” He motions out the window. “They’d be happy to see one less of them.”

  David smiles. “Alright. You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to.”r />
  He checks the intersection again—still no cars. He checks the mirrors—no cars. Eddy was expecting him to hit the gas and run the zombie over, but instead David puts the truck in Park. “Joe, hand me the sawn-off.”

  Joe picks up the short double-barrel shotgun off the gun rack on the back window of the truck, leaving the scoped rifle in its place. The barrels have been cut off just past the end of the stock, which looks old and beat half to death from rattling around in the back of pickups for over twenty years. He hands it up front.

  Jess asks, “Why not the rifle?”

  David takes the gun. “Used that one last time. Also, we’re close to town, and rifles have a really long range. It’s not as safe. Here, hold this.” He hands it to Jess and reaches under his seat, sliding out a small box. Inside he has a couple rows of rifle bullets and a variety of colored 12-gauge shotgun shells.

  Joe, excited, peeks over the center console. “Which shells are you going to use?”

  David picks up the box, leans over, and holds it up so that Joe and Eddy in the back can see. He explains largely for Eddy’s benefit. “So, there are different loads you can put in a shell.” He points to the rows of shells as he talks. “These are slugs, meaning there’s just one big, bad bullet inside. These are birdshot—real tiny little pellets that are good for birds. These are beehives; there’s lots of little needles in there—real good for shooting through brush. And these last ones are double-aught buckshot. There are nine pellets in each shell, and they can really make a mess of things.”

  Eddy is somewhat impressed, but all he actually saw were the different colors on the plastic parts. “Cool. So what’d be best, the slug?”

  David nods. “That would be okay, but with a sawn-off—” he sets the box down and picks up the gun, “—the barrel is shorter, so it’s less accurate.”

  Jess cuts in. “Sawn-offs are best with shot, because the shorter barrel allows the pellets to spread out farther as they travel out, so you don’t really have to aim; you just point it and blow holes in stuff!”

  Eddy is floored. Just point it and blow holes in stuff? That sounds really…dangerous. They’re looking at me. He shrugs. “Uh, so the buckshot then?”

  David winks and makes a clicking sound with his cheek. “Yup. Exactly.” He grabs a couple of the black shells, loads the gun, and hops out of the truck. He slams the door, and the zombie starts hobbling toward them. “Be right back!”

  He jogs over to the zombie; its lower jaw is half-attached, its hair is matted, and its clothes are mostly torn off. It holds a half-skinned dead raccoon. What the… David steps closer to get a better look at the zombie’s face.

  It has fur and skin stuck in between its top teeth. It makes a coughing sound as it drops the raccoon carcass and reaches for David.

  Hard to tell if you were a man or woman. Doesn’t matter. You’re neither anymore. Die!

  He raises the sawn-off shotgun, points it at the head—which is about three feet away from the barrel now—and holds his breath. -BANG!-

  The sound seems to shake the truck, although it could have just been a quake from those inside it. The head completely disappears, and the brush on the side of the road behind the zombie is spattered with the remains. Some leaves fall from a splintered sapling that caught a few shot pellets and skull fragments.

  David takes a few steps back, turns his head, and takes a breath. He rights himself and looks around, half-panicked, half-excited. No other ones. He glances down at his clothes. Still clean. Good. He jogs back to the truck, then when he gets alongside he opens the chamber and pulls out the expended shell. Ah, shoot!

  The metal at the base of the shell is still hot, but it only burns his hand a little. He tosses it into the empty bed of the pickup truck.

  He pulls the unused shell out of the chamber, then climbs back into the truck. “Wooo!” He shuts his door.

  Joe bounces in the back. “Nice one, Dad!”

  Jess is still looking away. “Seemed unnecessary, but sure, job well done.”

  David smiles. He leans over to Jess and rubs the top of her head with his hand. “You’re so cute!”

  “Eww. Gross, Dad!” She flicks his hand away.

  David sighs as he hands Joe the gun and looks at Eddy.

  Eddy stairs plainly back, a little freaked out.

  David takes a breath. I wonder if I freaked the kid out. “Just remember, Eddy, they’re monsters. They’re dead already. Every one put down is another one that can’t get your family.”

  Eddy snaps out of it and nods. “I completely agree.”

  “Eddy!” Charlie yells through the house. He gets no reply. He finds Sadie making coffee in the kitchen.

  “He’s not in his room. I didn’t see a note.”

  Sadie frowns. “That’s just great. You must have really upset him.”

  Charlie shakes his head and turns away. “I’ll send him a text.”

  His phone is charging on a side table in the hall. Charlie picks it up and sees a note underneath it. He calls back to the kitchen, “Oh, he did leave a note.”

  Charlie brings the note to Sadie and shows it to her.

  “Hrrmmm. Fine, although I’m not thrilled with this after what happened at the market yesterday.” She stirs cream into the coffee.

  “Oh yeah, forgot about that. He’ll be fine, though, especially if David is around; that guy loves guns.” Charlie waits patiently for Sadie to hand him the coffee.

  She takes a sip. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m going to get Minnie up and around.”

  “Dear, uh, coffee?” Charlie puts on a big, open-mouthed, toothy grin.

  Sadie pauses and takes another sip. “Deal’s off; you didn’t talk to your son. Coffee’s in the pot.” She mimics the same grin back at him, then walks away.

  Charlie nods. Fair enough.

  Sadie finds Minnie in her room, staring and pouting. “What’s wrong, baby?” Sadie cradles her in a hug.

  “Everybody’s mad at each other.”

  “No, just arguing a little. Sometimes people argue with each other because they love them so much and want to help them.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You will, someday.”

  Mary knocks on the open door. She has her kimono wrapped around her, but it isn’t securely closed. She holds the fabric with one hand.

  Sadie turns to her. “Good morning, Mary.”

  “Good morning. I was wondering, should I use this shower here?” She points down the hall with her other hand.

  “Yes. There should be towels and some travel-size shampoos in the cabinet. And if you need anything else, just holler.” Sadie smiles.

  Mary nods. “Thank you.” She turns to leave.

  “Oh, Mary—” Sadie calls to her.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you.”

  Downstairs, Mary finds Charlie looking at the backyard through the window by the sink. Excellent. “Morning, Charlie.”

  He looks over. Ugh, perfect. “Morning.”

  She steps silently with her bare feet over to the drying rack by the sink. She stands in front of it, next to Charlie, with one foot flat and the other toe pointed on the ground, introducing a bend in her knee, a raising of her hip, and adding another curve to her body. She continues the curve by dropping one shoulder down as she pours coffee into a mug, and she angles her head to one side. She finishes pouring and turns to Charlie. “I was wondering. Would you mind accompanying me into town later? I need to run an errand.”

  Uh, I don’t really want to do that… “I don’t really want to do that. I spend Sunday with Minnie to give Sadie a break; those two are thick as thieves all week.”

  She smiles and leans an arm on the counter to face toward Charlie. “I understand. It’s lovely that you do that.” She takes a slow sip of the coffee and stands there, looking at Charlie.

  He ignores her.

  She takes
another sip, then turns to walk away. As she leaves the kitchen, she says over her shoulder, “Bring her along. It’ll be fun.” She heads toward the stairs. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”

  Charlie takes a deep breath. Gotta love that Mary. He sneers and shoots a silent snarling face at her backside as she walks up the stairs.

  Before the outbreak, Crazy Joe’s Army-Navy, Guns-N-Ammo did decent business. It’s a huge store, with thousands of products, including clothes, body armor, tactical bags, camping gear, guns, ammo, swords, knives, survival books, MRE food packs, and even novelty belt buckles that look—and would be used—just like brass knuckles. Crazy Joe advertises that nobody beats his “Crazy JOE Prices,” and that “You’ll never see a JOE-ER price anywhere.”

  Besides his obvious marketing genius, his store was indeed popular before. But thanks to the zombies, business is booming. He was lucky enough to have had an extra-large shipment come in before the outbreak hit out west, so his store was fully stocked when the hordes of customers came calling. His prices aren’t quite as Joe anymore, but everything seems more expensive now.

  Crazy Joe is showing off a ghillie suit to an interested customer when David and the kids come in.

  “Hey, Dave!”

  “Hi, CJ.” He motions to the kids and smiles. “The kids wanted to do some shopping.”

  “Sure thing! And when you have questions, ya find me, ya hear!”

  “You got it.”

  Jess and Joe scoot past their dad and tear into the store. When candy stores existed and zombies didn’t, and parents couldn’t imagine kids wanting anything more than candy, silly parents would use the phrase, “kids in a candy store.” That’s how excited these two are as they pour through the aisles. Today, though, with zombies, and with cooler parents, the saying would go something like, “kids in an army-navy surplus/discount camping/gun and ammo store.”

  Joe beelines straight for the knife counter, while Eddy follows behind Jess to the tactical clothing section.