A House Divided: Book 3 of The Of Sudden Origin Saga

by C. Chase Harwood

  The female one is fun.

  Her heart is strong.

  She smells so good.

  Good like fresh blood in the mouth.

  Yes, like fresh blood in the mouth.

  Nikki attempted a lopsided apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m going to my room.”

  Eliza said, “There’s uh, there’s uh, tea. You want me to bring you a cup of tea? I could use a cup of tea. Not much comfort on this island, but we have tea.”

  Nikki stopped and looked at Eliza. “You’re sweet. Sure I’ll have tea.”

  Sanders said, “Hansel and Gretel can see really well in the dark. How about that?”

  Hansel said, “Not that kind of dark, George Sanders. Maybe if there were stars, but there are none.”

  When she got to the top of the stairs, Nikki felt a cool draft and saw the window at the end of the hall was slightly ajar. A light breeze was causing the partially closed drapes to slowly fill and drop. She heard the boy giggle through the adjacent door followed by Gallagher mumbling. She tried to remember if the window had been cracked open when she and Jon had been up here earlier.

  The casement was thickly painted with layers of lazy maintenance. She took little notice of fresh flakes on the sill. It protested with a squeal as she pushed down to shut it, flipping the latch for good measure. Pulling the drapes shut all the way eclipsed the fading light and made the already gloomy landing even less inviting.

  The drapes were still open in her own room, and it was well enough lit for her to contemplate the bookshelf that held an eclectic mix of moldering novels. Deciding that the best way to reset her brain and ward off growing panic was to sit down and read, she chose a thick tomb about the heyday of the Roman Republic. She opened it to the last pages of the last chapter. Treachery, civil war, and the approach of dictatorship kept her company until there was a soft knock on the door. She placed a finger in the book and said, “Enter.”

  Eliza balanced two cups of tea on a tray. “Here we go.”

  Nikki set the book on the nightstand, waved at the foot of the bed for a perch and gratefully took the proffered cup.

  Eliza sat and looked at the window. “When it’s fully dark we don’t light candles.”

  “Of course not.”

  “We pretty much go to bed.”

  Nikki nodded. “Tell me about the um, pucks as you call them. How infectious are they?”

  “Only if they were to actually bite you.”

  “And they can control any animal’s will? Cuz I haven’t forgotten what that’s like. Never will.”

  “They can. And no, I’m sure you won’t. It’s the most unsettling experience imaginable.”

  “Yet they choose not to. Not to mess with you?”

  “They have been raised not to mess with us. That hasn’t stopped them from occasionally slipping up, but they’re pretty good about it now. They don’t really have an interest in being with anyone other than us, and they understand that if they want to be with us, then they need to behave.”

  “Can they kill with their thoughts? Like stopping your heart?”

  “I actually don’t know. When we were trapped, or I should say, captured in Nicaragua, the feral ones, they had the ability to anesthetize a person. They kept thousands of human slaves and semi-anesthetized them all to make them work beyond what most human’s could naturally endure. They also… They also drew pleasure from torture. Especially through consuming a person while keeping that person awake — adjusting the amount of pain the victim could feel.”

  “Jesus. And you escaped that.”

  “Long story. As you might imagine, I don’t sleep well.”

  “These days, only the very young and the self-delusional sleep well.”

  Eliza smiled in acknowledgment. There was silence between the women that wasn’t awkward. Neither felt the need to fill the gap. Finally, Nikki took a sip of her tea and said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to face an infected person outside of a virtu-simulation. Jon and I have a rare natural immunity, but that didn’t stop them from attacking us back in the bad old days.”

  Eliza said, “There’s no written rule about infected behavior. If they are really hungry, they don’t hesitate to even eat each other.”

  “Captain Dean said your Fiend Children… I mean, pucks. They controlled them? The infected?”

  “I wasn’t there, but Stewart and some others were surrounded by infected in Nicaragua. It seemed like Gretel and Hansel could hold them back. But everything in that area was manipulated by the feral pucks. I can’t really say who was controlling what.”

  There was another long silence and then they both spoke at once. Nikki said, “You first.”

  “No, you. I was just going to pry about you and your partner.”

  Nikki offered a weary smile. “Jon and I were among some of the last out during the exodus. It was intense. Call it a combat romance. When we got to safety, we jumped into playing house, got married, then reality set in. The Marines called me back up. After liaising with the conversion of this island, they made me a trainer. The spousal thing… The military is hard on that. Also, Jon’s a field reporter, not a house husband.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eliza sipped her tea. “I also know a little something about combat romances as you say.”

  Nikki chewed the inside of her cheek. “On top of everything else… Until this week, I haven’t seen Jon in quite some time.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “The impractical part of me hasn’t forgotten why I love him.”

  Eliza simply nodded.

  “I’m sorry. TMI.”

  “No. Just thinking about my own situation with Stewart. We’re not legally married, but we might as well be. Kind of had our own ceremony of a sort. A relationship built on similar circumstances.”

  There was a soft tap on the door. Billy called in a whisper. “Eliza, are you up here?”

  Eliza excused herself and cracked open the door, whispering back, “What’s up?”

  “Gallagher and I just spotted a group coming across the dunes from the East. They seem infected, no organization to their walk or spacing. It’s getting dark so it was hard to count, but more than a dozen I think. Can I go down and tell my dad?”

  Eliza’s face turned a bit pale. “No. You stay up here with Gallagher. I’ll tell him.”

  This Jerry woke slowly. It had eaten so much earlier that Its body was exhausted by the effort to break down the huge infusion of protein. It had used Its considerable climbing skills, inherited from That Jerry, to quickly gain access to the porch roof. It had opened the window with only a slight squeak, even thought to mostly close it behind It — until the window squeaked again— a lot, and It paused. After listening to the voices downstairs for a few minutes It decided that for now, It was more tired than eager to kill the little Fresh One. It found a bed to crawl into and fell asleep almost immediately. Its dreams were a series of disjointed images that mostly looped back to biting into the face of the Other on the beach; a sensation that Its psychotic subconscious relished, and so looped to it over and over again. The dreams were invaded by the muffled voices of the boy and the other Fresh One who kept up a conversation in the room next door. Female voices also drifted in, filling It with sexual arousal.

  When This Jerry fully woke, the room It had slept in was almost completely dark. It listened to the Fresh boy and a female whispering outside in the hallway. Its capacity for language was gone, but It understood the anxiety that the voices conveyed. The sound of anxious voices was very pleasing. A growing smile slowly split Its cheeks into a dastardly gash. A salty, copper crust had hardened on its lips and It licked the residue of the earlier kill. Its belly, which had been fairly bursting with gluttony, was once again deflated and gurgled with desire. This Jerry put Its feet on the floor and stood.

  With the news of the approaching infected, Dean quickly assigned the men downstairs to various posts; the idea being that if there was a breach or even the beginning of one, the men could immediately call out to each o
ther. If reinforcement was needed, those from the areas that were not being assaulted could join in on a more focused defense. Hansel and Gretel planted themselves in the centrally located sitting room. Should any infected make themselves visible, they would use their ability to control the victim’s mind, thus aiding in the fight.

  Dean stepped upstairs to get a better view and saw Nikki peering past the curtains at the top of the landing. She spoke without taking her eyes off the outside. “Two groups of more than a dozen now. Getting hard to see. About three hundred and five hundred clicks out respectively. They’re not in a hurry, but definitely heading this way. Three minutes max.”

  Billy opened his door and stuck his head out. “Dad, how can me and Tim help?”

  “By keeping look out and staying out of sight. No heroics from you two. Leave the door ajar so you can call out.”

  Billy nodded and stepped back into the room.

  Stepping next to Nikki, Dean peered past the curtain. The dunes were barely front lit against the dark Eastern sky. He stared for several seconds before seeing the movement of the closer group. An involuntary sigh slipped past his lips. Then he flinched and turned sharply as he felt a hand on his back.

  Eliza had come back upstairs. “Sorry.”

  He said, “Billy and Gallagher will keep lookout. You stand at the top of the stairs and relay anything they might see.” He tapped Nikki’s arm. “Your friend, Jon, is in the front room. Why don’t you join him there? He’s got a nice old hickory cane for you to use as a club.”

  More to herself than to Dean, she mumbled, “Ten years teaching Fiend killing tactics to armored up Special Ops and I’m reduced to wielding a cane alongside a bunch of fishermen.”

  Peering through the cracked door, This Jerry watched the female descend the stairs. The other female paused, turned around, and looked straight at the crack. This Jerry didn’t move a muscle. It stood in near total darkness, knowing It was safe, that no light gave It away. The scent of the other female’s perspiration lightly wafted through the crack and This Jerry breathed it in. The disease that lurked inside It identified the female as Not Fresh — or not fresh enough.

  The female cocked her head slightly and took a step toward the door, when a male voice rose up from below in an urgent whisper. A moment later, the male Other that could use words, turned to the female Other that could also use words and put its mouth on hers. The male turned and went downstairs. Then to This Jerry’s frustration, the female Other sat on the top step and got comfortable.

  Fuck the female. Yes, fuck it and tear it and eat it while fucking it… No — Not Fresh — Fuck and eat the Fresh males first.

  This Jerry told Itself to be patient — like That Jerry — That Jerry had been very patient. This Jerry still had the trait. This Jerry would wait.

  Billy stood on the bed in order to see better while Gallagher hung by the door to relay what the boy saw.

  Billy said, “It’s too dark. I think I saw the two groups breaking left and right, but I can’t be sure. They’re almost here. I know that.”

  “I’ll go to the room across the hall and see what I can see there.” As Gallagher stepped into the hall, he barely made out Eliza at the top of the stairs. He whispered, “They’re almost on us,” and stepped to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. “I’m going to see what I can make out from this direction.”

  Eliza nodded and whispered down the stairs. “They’re almost here.”

  Gallagher pushed open the door and cringed as the hinges squeaked. He noted a rank smell; body odor maybe and something worse. A quick calculation told him that something had died in the walls; a mouse or more likely a rat. Wow. Maybe a whole nest of rats. He stepped to the window, leaned against the wall and peeked past the curtain, scanning for motion. The door slowly closed itself behind him.

  This Jerry felt the saliva drool out from the corners of Its lips. Eat it. Fresh. Fresh One. Eat it. It had stepped back as the door was opened, keeping Itself between the door and the wall. It watched as the Fresh One darted its head in front of the window, silhouetting itself. Kill it quiet. Kill it quiet. Save room for the boy.

  Gallagher heard a board creak behind him. Assuming it was Eliza, he said, “Christ. Can’t see anything out there now.” He turned to look at her. An absence of light seemed to be approaching him. Like a black hole against a star field, something large was blanking out the space between him and the door. Too big to be Eliza. Then the shape made a distinctly male clearing of the throat. Gallagher’s limbs went cold and he felt his stomach pull up toward his heart as it suddenly revved up to pounding speed. He didn’t say a word, just darted toward where he knew the bed was. Jump on the bed, over the bed. A hand across his back yanked his shirt. His feet slipped on the bedding, the hand getting a better hold on his shirt. An incredibly strong grip on his ankle tripped him up. He involuntarily yelped as he twisted on his back, kicking at the mass behind him, making contact with a chest, a face, trying to break his other foot away, his instinct not to scream, not to draw those on the outside in, causing him to whisper loudly toward the door, “Help!” He was suddenly yanked toward the thing that had him, his legs splaying around the things waist! Incredible pain! Mind boggling pain! Pain that demanded a blood curdling scream except the bite was right on top of his larynx, tearing a hole through his throat. More bites, a ravenous shark on a fresh kill, jerking and yanking and tearing away flesh.

  As his blood and oxygen starved mind slipped away, Gallagher felt the thing thrusting its pelvis against him over and over, and under the sound of its grunting, the chewing of Gallagher’s own flesh. His pulse pounding ears heard the door hinges squeak and Eliza whisper into the room, “Tim?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Breach

  The light was so dim that Eliza could only make out rough movement on the bed. A wet chomping mixed with grunts caused her bladder to threaten to let go.

  “Tim?”

  A man shape launched itself off the bed. She screamed and backpedaled out of the room, pulling the door shut. The thing slammed against the door while growling out a monstrous scream.

  Her backward momentum had her stumbling into Billy, who had opened his own door. She shoved him back into the room, turning, and slamming the door behind her. Her fingers slid down the door’s edge until she found the latch lock, fumbling and pushing as the misaligned thing wouldn’t slam home. She turned it over and over until she registered that her shoulder was pressing into the door too hard. She backed off and it slid in. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”

  Billy said, “What? What?”

  Stepping back from the door with her hands shaking uncontrollably, she said, “Inside. They’re inside. Got Tim.”

  Like a light being switched on in her head, the twins were suddenly inside her mind, sharing the space. Mother? The pucks immediately understood the situation.

  Then the door was kicked in.

  This Jerry was thrilled with the female’s scream. The Fresh boy screamed too and It watched as the two shapes scrambled behind the bed. It was still chewing the chest meat It had taken off the other Fresh One and It paused so that It could swallow and focus. The two opened a door behind them, climbed into the tight space beyond and slammed it shut. This Jerry laughed a gleeful psychotic bellow and launched Itself, scrambling over the bed and slamming into a closet door. Pry them out, kill the female quick, enjoy the boy Freshhhh One. It imagined itself defiling the boy as it chewed off chunks of the screaming thing’s back. A quick punch shattered a door panel and This Jerry reached into the narrow closet grabbing a handful of the screaming female’s hair. With a swift jerk It had her head in the opening and It bit down hard, getting a mouthful of hair but nothing that tasted of blood or flesh. The female’s scream rose in pitch to a startling decibel joined by the boy’s rising soprano. Then another Not Fresh One was on Its back, a thick arm around Its neck, pulling It back and away from the door.

  Sanders heaved up and back, pulling the Fiend onto the bed, on top of himsel
f, knocking his own the air out. As he gasped, the thing spun around and straddled his hips. The Fiend looked at the prize and lunged with its teeth. Sanders got a hand up and felt his pinky getting bitten and torn off, yanking muscle and tendon deeper in his hand and the length of his forearm.

  This Jerry spat out the digit and laughed, ready for another strike as the Not Fresh One tried a feeble punch. Then It felt something odd in Its head. In a series of swift moves, it jerked upright, releasing Sanders, lifting its arms like a conductor signaling a pause, then drove its own index fingers behind its own eyeballs, prying them out with agonizing pain. This Jerry found that It could not scream out Its agony — Its voice mute. Strong hands, stronger than any Fresh One, grasped Its arms and pinned them to Its sides. It turned and twisted, trying to shake off the assailant. The presence in Its mind filled with a certain glee and This Jerry found Itself joining in silent laughter. Then another strong one grabbed It around Its legs, immobilizing it. Razor sharp teeth bit into This Jerry’s shoulder, another into Its belly, eviscerating It in an instant. The last thing that This Jerry felt was a strong hand reaching deep up into its chest cavity, shoving the air in its lungs out past lips pulled back in agony, then a yank on Its heart.

  The Fiends outside the house charged. They leapt onto the railings, scrambling and pulling to get up to the roof. A gutter broke away, dropping several to the ground, but not before a male and a female made it up, charging right for the windows.

  Dean had just reached the top of the stairs when the things smashed through the mullioned glass as one. Without pause, he took a tremendous swing with a section of two-by-four he’d fashioned into a club, connecting with the head of a crazed Fiend teenager and dropping the thing cold. A female in her twenties was right behind the teenager. Dean could only get the club up into a horizontal position to ward her off. She had some serious momentum and pushed him back toward the stairs, gnashing teeth barely missing his knuckles, crashing him into Jon who had just reached the top. All three went tumbling down the stairs, surprising Nikki who leapt over the bannister to get out of the way.