The humans were weak and slow when they were separated from their group. They were no match for him and his powerful jaws. He would hunt them as his ancestors did. Stalk them and pick off the stragglers. Crack their bones for the sweet marrow. Not yet though. For now, he would content himself with rotted flesh and the weaker animals until the opportunity presented itself. The rancid meat filled his belly, but never sated his appetite. The flesh from the stinking humans stoked the fires of his rage, caused him to devour long after his belly was distended, yet he hungered still. It was maddening. He stifled the urge to let loose a laughing bark and increased his loping gait. He wanted a closer inspection of the new scent.
As he neared the fences, the smaller members of his pack joined the group and followed on silent padded feet. The coyotes, wild dogs, feral cats, raccoons, opossums and the once domesticated pigs fell in place. He always found the food. They understood his cruel reign. He was the strongest of them all and the Alpha.
The scent of the new human grew stronger and he slowed, careful to keep the wind in his nose so he could remain undetected by his prey. He growled a warning to the others to stay back and dropped to his belly and crawled forward to investigate. He detected a multitude of intermingled scents from the young ones and their beasts as he watched from the safety of the thick brush. They rested just inside the fence as they gathered around the source of the unknown smell that lured him there, the blood covered human. He inhaled all the aromas. Cross checked and cataloged them against his olfactory memory. He drooled at the thought of fresh meat. Hot and rich with warm blood. His muscles bunched, his rage and hunger threatened to overwhelm his protective senses when he smelled the scent of Demonio. The wolf girl wore his pelt across her back.
Diablo was a scavenger by design. His DNA was programmed to take the least amount of risk and steal the prey from stronger animals by stealth or overwhelming numbers of his kind. He tamped down his blood lust and watched as the small ones lifted and carried the new one across the field to their den. The big bear sniffed the wind and looked in his direction. He forced his body lower and lidded his eyes. He knew he couldn’t win this fight and remained motionless. His mottled, tawny hide blended seamlessly with the foliage. Hunger gnawed at his belly as he scooted away from the sure death that awaited him. He growled a low growl to his pack and loped into the forest in search of an easier meal. He would watch, he would wait and when the time came, he would close his strong jaws on their frail bodies and feast.
His limping gait carried them swiftly towards the outskirts of Putnam, only a few miles away. He and his pack had found one of the lairs of the stinking humans yet were unable to get at them. They’d circled and scratched, pawed and growled at the shapes moving in the window, only to wind up frustrated and hungry. His growl increased to match the rumble of his belly. He didn’t like being thwarted from a meal, drool ran from his massive jaws and he increased his speed towards the lair of the stinking ones. He vaulted the steps and crashed into the door. Pain coursed through the old wound in his shoulder. The wound inflicted by the wolf so many months ago. He crashed into the wooden door again. He would not be denied this meal. A coyote yipped and crashed into the door beside him. The Savage Ones hungered as much as their alpha and his fury inflamed their own. Diablo eyed the stinking ones through the window as more of the hungry animals flung themselves against the door. Opossums and raccoons scaled the rain gutters and chimney. Strong teeth and nimble paws tore at the mesh chimney cap, eager to work their way inside to be the first to feed. A mixed breed dog flung himself at the pane glass window. It shattered and he yelped as the glass shards dug into his flesh. He fell and flopped on the porch, licking at his wounds until the others sensed his vulnerability, fell on him and devoured him in seconds. The cats ran under the porch, chunks of meat in their jaws. Wild pigs and coyotes snapped tusks and fangs at each other as they fought over the bones. The ravens, crows and vultures descended in flocks that blotted out the sun in their own quest for a tasty morsel. The undead family spilled through the shattered window. A mother, father, teenage girl and a toddler. Trapped inside since the outbreak, the virus inside them screamed for a chance to feed, to spread and replicate. The chimney cap fell free and the raccoons and opossums scurried down. They spread through the house, seeking anything to fill their bellies. The pantry doors were torn from their hinges from the weight of the animals, food boxes were shredded and the contents gobbled up.
Diablo watched as the stinking ones fell through the shattered window. They made their awful noise, staggered to their feet and set off at a run in search of prey of their own. Many of the Savage Ones poured through the new opening in search of food, while others focused their attacks on the stinking ones. A large boar crashed into the man bearing him to the ground. His tusks ripped and shredded flesh. The creature ignored it and tried to crawl away. It wanted to seek prey of its own. More of them fell on the keening creature and tore away mouthfuls of flesh.
Diablo leapt and grabbed the smallest of the stinking ones. He crunched the skull in his jaws, felt it go limp and drug it to the shade to feast in peace. None would dare defy him and try to feed on it until he was finished. The carrion birds swooped down on the teenaged zombie. The sheer weight of them forced it to the ground where talons and beaks tore off shreds of flesh. Wild cats darted in among the birds to grab their shares. The woman was dragged down under the jaws of the coyotes and mongrel dogs. Smaller animals darted in to take what they could. Some escaped with a mouthful of flesh while others became part of the buffet. The frenzy was over in minutes. Only the sound of bones cracking, and the calls of the carrion birds disturbed the silence. Temporarily sated, the larger savages collapsed to rest and digest their grisly meal, while the smaller ones flitted about scooping up the bits of flesh and shattered bones that littered the yard.
Birds flew into the open house and lit on the furniture. Their wings knocked pictures from the walls as they sought out leftover morsels.
Diablo cracked a femur in his strong jaws and devoured the marrow. His stomach was full to the point of bursting, yet he continued to feed. The tainted meat only increased his hunger. He regurgitated a chunk and then swallowed it back down again. When he could force no more into his gullet, he rested his paws over the remains to protect his meal, lowered his bloodied muzzle and closed his eyes.
9
Swan
Swan watched the stranger as he tossed and turned in the bed. He kicked off the covers every time she tried to cover him up. Sweat covered his lean, hard body. She tried not to admire his muscled physique but found it hard not to. Old, puckered wounds from bullets dotted his body. Other scars, long and white, like those from an edged weapon, crisscrossed his skin like a roadmap of pain and suffering. Whoever he was, he’d seen action and was tough enough to have survived. She grudgingly admired that and wanted to know the story behind each one.
She thought he would be attractive in a roguish sort of way if it wasn’t for the mottled bruising and swelling that covered his body. He had a prominent scar on one side of his face but he was so swollen and piebald she had to use her imagination to figure out what he really looked like underneath. She scolded herself as the urge to trace her finger along the scar struck her from out of nowhere. He might be the enemy, he might be there to kill them all, but he looked helpless in his fitful sleep. She couldn’t help it, her heart ached as she sat and watched, wondered over the damage done to him. He could have been dead from any of his wounds and there were a lot of them. His face wasn’t quite symmetrical, almost like a cheap puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit just right and he frequently clenched his teeth as if he was in a lot of pain.
He’d been out for three days and at first, they weren’t sure he’d make it. They stripped him, washed the blood from his body but were mystified when there were no cuts, no bleeding gashes. He seemed to be sweating it out of his pores. Murray wrapped his arm to help the collarbone heal and had to convince Tobias and Kodiak he wasn’t suffering from E
bola. They’d given him water and broth. She and Harper had held up his head and poured it into his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chest, but they’d gotten enough in him. He wasn’t dead yet and they’d done what they could. The rest was up to him.
She stopped hunting, hurried through her chores and kept her vigil. She wanted to be there when he woke up. She had questions for the stranger and she would get answers, one way or another. She had to know if he was one of Gordon’s gang or if they had done this to him. She had to know if he held the answers she was seeking, if he had encountered them and did he know where they were. She wore her armor and kept her weapons with her, she was guarding a prisoner. A dangerous one from the looks of him. Her anger had faded as she listened to him, to his dreams, to his occasional moans and the words he sometimes spoke. He sounded desperate and lost most of the time.
It irked her at first that Zero had accepted him so easily while she kept both tomahawks handy if he woke and tried something. It irked her that the wolf was laying on the rug beside the bed, keeping vigil of his own. It wasn’t like him to be so trusting. She trusted Zero, trusted him with her life, and his acceptance of the stranger eased some of her suspicions. If the wolf had picked up any sense of danger from him, surely, he would show it.
His sleep was deep, almost like he was in a coma at first but it became lighter. By the third day they expected him to wake up at any time. His dreams became more vivid and the words he uttered started to make sense. He seemed to be reliving the same nightmare, one where he was trying to help someone called Scarlet but he never succeeded. The dream would end, his fists would unclench and he’d sleep peacefully for a time before the cycle started again. Swan sharpened her blades or groomed her wolves as she kept watch, listened and wondered who he’d been.
Swan startled awake; she’d been dozing in the rocking chair. The stranger was upright on the bed, his eyes wide and darting. They found her in the moonlight and the first thing that popped in her mind was God, what beautiful eyes you have. He stared at her intently for a second then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed back onto the twisted sheets. Zero lowered his head and went back to sleep.
Her heart pounded, she gripped her weapons tighter and watched to see if he would regain consciousness. When he didn’t stir, she relaxed and told herself she needed to stay awake but soon drifted off. Zero was there, he would keep her safe.
“He woke up for a few seconds then passed out again.” She told the tribe in the morning.
“Let’s put him on the couch.” Kodiak said “I think he’s over whatever was wrong with him. If he’s dangerous, I’d rather more of us be ready. Besides, I’m sure you could use a break.”
Donny and Tobias moved towards the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with the unconscious boy draped in a sheet. Vanessa shooed the wolf cubs off the couch and Harper covered it with a clean blanket as Analise brought in a damp washcloth to lay over his forehead.
Swan didn’t care for how the other girls were staring at him. Didn’t care for the extra attention they lavished on him. She forced them aside as she tucked the sheet in around his body.
“What?” she said defensively. “He still has a fever. I don’t want him dying before I find out what he knows. Besides, Clara doesn’t need to see him naked.”
She met their eyes one at a time, dared them to challenge her.
Tobias snorted and burst out laughing. “Swan’s hot for the stranger!”
The taunt caught like wildfire and soon the whole tribe was giggling and making kissy faces. Swan blushed, told them they were idiots and stormed outside. She slammed the door behind her and looked for something, anything to throw her tomahawks at, and anything to distract her thoughts from the stranger. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe she was a little jealous of the way they were fawning over him.
Maybe.
Just a little.
10
Call Me Bob
Kodiak watched from his perch in the windowsill as the stranger opened his eyes to find the muzzle of a bear breathing heavily in his face. He watched as the older boy eased his hand down under the blankets for the pair of guns that were now safely hidden away. The scarred stranger looked a little surprised when he found nothing but skin beneath the covers and he slowly bunched himself up to spring off the couch. Kodiak reflexively gripped the haft of his Warhammer as he watched.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said. “Relax, he won’t hurt you.”
“Unless I tell him to.” He added after a pause, a little menace in his voice.
The boys studied each other from across the room. Both were lean and hard; both bore scars from their deadly encounters. Kodiak didn’t blink. The stranger didn’t blink either. He saw no hostility in the stranger’s eyes. Sadness and determination, but no malice or ill intent. Kodiak broke the gaze and looked to Otis.
“Otis, back off.” The boy commanded.
The big bear chuffed once more in the strangers face then ambled off to flop down in front of the fireplace. The triplets and their foxes immediately hid behind him and peered over the top of his shaggy brown pelt, safe from whatever was going to happen next. This was the first time they’d had a guest in the old house.
The stranger sat up slowly. No sudden moves that could be misconstrued as aggression. Still, he gave the impression of a coiled spring, ready to burst loose at any second. He probed his shoulder tenderly.
“Good work, whoever did this.” He said. “Thanks.”
Murray gave a slight bow from his wheelchair. “At your service, stranger. Got a name?”
The stranger ignored the question as they stared at his mottled body and watched him run fingers over the broken bone. He was one massive bruise from head to toe.
“What happened to my pants?” he asked and snatched the blanket back in place before it fell to the floor.
Swan blushed and the others started snickering.
Clara piped in. “Swan took them off!”
Clara ducked down behind Mr. Ringtail so they couldn’t see her but she couldn’t hide her giggles.
“They were filthy and you were stinking up the place,” Swan said in her defense. “Somebody had to do it, they were all bloody and you were drawing flies.”
Murray rolled up to face the stranger. “Yeah, that’s weird. You were soaked in blood, but you didn’t have any cuts. How did you get so bruised up, anyway? You get into a fight with a weed whacker?”
Harper handed him his pants and kept her eyes averted, she was nearly as red as Swan.
The stranger tried to smile, “Got beat with the ugly stick.” He said as he struggled into his leathers and tried to keep himself covered as all the girls raptly watched his muscles flexing.
The stranger kept glancing at Analise and Tobias out of the corner of his eyes. Kodiak thought he saw a twinge of sadness.
Caleb snickered. “Need help? Swan got them off you real quick, maybe she can help you put them back on.”
“SHUT UP CALEB!” Swan growled and flung a pillow at him. Caleb ducked behind Otis, who acknowledged it bouncing off of him with a half open eye before getting back to his nap.
Kodiak hopped down from his place in the windowsill. He held his hammer loosely and stopped in front of the stranger.
“It’s time you answered some questions.” Kodiak said.
The stranger, still struggling with his pants acted as if he didn’t hear him. The chatter from the others fell silent as they all waited to hear what he had to say.
The stranger looked up at Kodiak. “Sorry. What?” He tossed the sheet aside and began looking for his boots.
“I said it’s your turn to answer questions.” Kodiak tried to hide his annoyance.
The stranger met his gaze. “Okay. No problem. But I really gotta pee. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Donny stepped from the shadows and gestured for the stranger to follow him. They returned from the outhouse a few minutes later to find the tribe bustling around and layi
ng out breakfast.
The large oak table was loaded down with food. Fresh vegetables, roasted ears of corn, fried game and fish, scrambled eggs and Tobias’s slowly evolving efforts at homemade cheese. The stranger stared at the spread and the growling of his stomach elicited giggles from the triplets.
“I had a locket.” He said. “Did I still have it when you found me?”
Harper spoke. “Oh, I have it.” She stepped over to a rocking chair and picked it up, along with the stranger’s shirt. “I stitched up some of the tears.” She blushed again as he met her eyes.
“Thanks.” he said and started unwrapping the bandages that held his arm tight to his chest.
Murray watched him. “You should leave that. You’re not supposed to move it for a few weeks.”
The stranger pulled the last of the bandages away. “I heal fast.” He said as he probed his collarbone.
“Let me see. Bend down here.” Murray said.
The older boy obliged and Murray gently felt the damaged shoulder. This is odd, he thought. I know it was broken, I set the bones back in place. He probed some more. It was still bruised around the break, but it was definitely not broken. Not anymore. There were a lot of things about this stranger that had Murray’s Spidey senses tingling.
The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 38