Flesh Ravenous (Book 1)

by James M. Gabagat

  Lawrence pointed at Sonya and then to Tristan. “Them two.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “And me. I’m definitely going, because I’m desensitized as fuck.” Everyone’s eyes flicked to him, their brows furrowed with either confusion or concern. He straightened his face when he realized he was smiling.

  “I wanna get out there, too,” said Kasey. “I may not be…uh…desensitized like you, Lawrence, but y’all know I’m capable.”

  “I think four’s enough,” said Sonya. “If we should find more supplies out there, we’ll need space in the car. We’re not gonna survive on just one excursion for food.”

  “Eventually, anyone who wants to go will have a chance to go,” Lawrence told Kasey.

  “We should take my Honda tomorrow,” said Sonya. “It has four doors, easy and quick for us to get in and out, and lots of room inside. We should be good on gas, too.”

  “Perfect,” said Lawrence. “We’ll eat a big meal tonight. It should give us more energy for tomorrow morning. Alright everyone?”

  Everyone replied with head nods.

  Lawrence turned around and looked out the opened window. Therese rocked slightly on the rope as the dead continued their attempt to grab hold of her, only managing to scrape their fingertips on the soles of her shoes. The dead were relentless, endlessly violent and wild, never tired or slowed, and, not to mention, gruesome and frightening in appearance, intimidating. They knew no fear. Lawrence, along with Ally, Sonya, and Tristan, would have to face those monsters up close tomorrow. Lawrence watched the horde, studied them.

  “We should cut the rope and let those things have her now,” said Tristan. “I don’t think Joni should pay her mom a visit. It’s not a good setting to say goodbye.”

  “I’ll get a knife,” said Sonya, rising from the sleeping bag she sat on. “Or maybe the axe would be better.

  “No, wait,” said Lawrence. “Leave her. We’ll need Therese tomorrow.”

  It was a little after seven p.m. when Miles and Helena finished preparing Thanksgiving dinner. There wasn’t any turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin desserts, or any other traditional dishes. Lawrence, much like everyone else, didn’t care much for turkey. All anyone cared about now was silencing their stomach rumbles.

  Upon the dining table was a large bowl of “spaghetti,” spaghetti noodles drowned with a mix of canned chili, canned tomatoes, and Sloppy Joe sauce. In a smaller bowl was corned beef, stewed with mushrooms and collard greens, all from cans of course. Surrounding the entrées were plates of mixed vegetables, green beans, and corn.

  Lawrence used to think that all canned food had a strange, metallic smell to them. But this evening, he had to suck his tongue to keep himself from drooling. Steam and aromas wafted from the hot dishes. Anything cooked would’ve smelled delicious to Lawrence right now, even if it were a roadkill skunk or a leather boot from a dumpster.

  The housemates filled the six-chaired dining table, Lawrence, Tristan, and Sonya, pulled chairs from the kitchen to squeeze in and make the table fit nine. There was somberness as all gathered, no humorous conversations or reminisces about past holiday events. The morning started off merry. Lawrence remembered waking to the sounds of “Happy Thanksgiving.” He had even reconciled with Tristan and made peace with Sonya. Therese’s selfishness ruined the rest of the day, made the affair depressing and bleak.

  Lawrence watched everyone around the table stare at the food. Plates and utensils were set before them, yet it looked like no one knew how to begin. “Maybe we should say Grace,” he said.

  “Not all of us are catholic,” said Charlene.

  “Fine, then, maybe a nondenominational Grace.”

  “Is there such a thing? How does that go?”

  Lawrence just wanted to eat, but he thought picking up his fork and digging into improvised spaghetti wouldn’t be proper until they said words of thanks. “I don’t even know how the normal Grace goes.”

  “Then why’d you bring it up?” That annoying tone was rising in Charlene.

  “I was hoping one of you guys knew.”

  “Stop acting like you know stuff.”

  “Hey,” Joni called to Lawrence from across the table. The girl’s eyelids were puffy and worn. “Every year, before me and my family would eat Thanksgiving dinner, each of us would take turns standing up and saying what it is we’re thankful for.” She stood up. “I’ll go first, okay?”

  What a brave girl, Lawrence thought.

  “Even though my…family is gone now…I’m thankful to still have people who care about me and want to keep me safe. Because of that, I know that I won’t be sad much longer. I know that I’ll be okay.” She sat down.

  “We could all learn from you, Joni,” said Lawrence. He saw Helena and Miles get teary-eyed.

  Joni glanced at Lawrence, then shyly looked away.

  “I’ll go next,” said Charlene.

  “No, I’ll go next,” said Tristan. “I’m sure yours will be too long. You talk too much.”

  France stood up. “I’m going,” she insisted. “I just wanted to say…” The teenaged girl appeared nervous, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “I…”

  “Go ahead, girly,” said Kasey. “Say what you feel.”

  “I’m thankful I still have my family, my mom and dad, the people who’ve always mattered to me. I’m thankful I have friends. Real friends now, and it’s weird that I’m happier after the world became this way. When I was five I peed in my pants at school.” Lawrence saw Tristan cover his face and snicker. “The other kids started calling me ‘pee-pee girl’ or ‘stinky pee-pee girl,’ so I never made friends throughout elementary.” Charlene started laughing. France looked over to her and smiled. “Then, in middle school, after I cut my hair really short, my classmates called me a stinky lesbian. I’m thankful for everyone here.”

  Everyone had their turn at the table, to stand up and express their thankfulness. They all spoke of friendship, family, and having each other. It was all very corny, but it helped to rid the gloom. As they feasted, the smiles and the laughter came, as did the bad jokes and the intentional passing of gas. Dammit Miles. It was the Thanksgiving Lawrence had hoped for, one far better than any shared with his real family. That night, his stomach was full and he was content. He didn’t think about tomorrow.

  It’s in the Past Now

  Sonya

  In the second grade, I dreaded recess…

  There was this mentally handicapped girl named Olivia. I remember her clapping her hands for no reason and sticking her tongue out and wiggling it. She took a liking to me…

  During recess, she would chase after me, wanting to touch my hair and kiss me. She’d call me her “girlfriend.” I’d run from her, screaming. This was the first “special” person I’d encountered, so, I was scared to death of her.

  She became more aggressive. When she’d catch me, she’d pull my hair and hit me, and fucking try to lick my face. I told my teacher on her, and the school principal. They told me Olivia was only trying to play with me, that she didn’t know any better, and that I should be more understanding. They told me they’d speak to Olivia’s mother about this.

  The attacks didn’t stop.

  At night, I’d cry. I was afraid to go to school. I didn’t want to tell my parents about Olivia. I was ashamed for some reason.

  One day, Olivia came to school with a badly bruised neck. I actually felt sorry for her. I learned several months later that her mother had been hurting her. But on that day, Olivia was more violent toward me. She tackled me in the yard, yanked at my hair, and struck me. My lip bled.

  I had had enough of Olivia. Was I supposed to be sympathetic to this retard who was victimizing me every week? Was I supposed to be understanding?

  Fuck that.

  On a rainy day, during recess, most of the students chose to play indoors. I found Olivia alone near the monkey bars, sitting on the ground eating mud. I snuck up behind her and kicked her in the head. I remember how she toppled down, screaming and crying. Scream
ing so fucking loud, but nobody could hear her. While she was on her back, I brought my fist down on her face three or four times. My fingers hurt after. I smiled when I saw the blood on her teeth. She must’ve bitten her own tongue.

  Olivia didn’t tell on me. She didn’t know how to.

  Olivia had a horrible life. I heard that her mom went to prison for beating her. I also heard that Olivia had no other family to take care of her. So, I don’t know what became of her.

  Do I regret beating her ass?

  Fuck no.

  It actually makes me feel good to think about it.

  The whole point of this story is…

  I’m always going to fight. That’s the person I am. I don’t care what the circumstances are. I didn’t care for Olivia’s disability or her sucky existence. If you stand in my way, I’ll fight you.

  We head out today.

  It’s time to fight.

  7

  Black Friday

  Kasey

  The morning after Thanksgiving, Kasey was up at six thirty. She was an early riser, usually the first in the house to awaken and light all the candles downstairs. During the morning hours, she’d read novels she had already read or do a regiment of pushups, sit ups, and dumbbell lifts. This morning, she started preparations for the trip to Westerly Acres. She scrounged through the storage room and came away with four camping packs, two large gym bags, and one small shoulder bag. She went downstairs into the kitchen and packed three water bottles and two cans of food into each of the four packs and iodine, painkillers, bandages, a can opener, and a toilet paper roll into the shoulder bag. No one told her to do the task, but she took the liberty, assuming it’d take Lawrence and party an hour of procrastination and confusion to collect all essential supplies. Helping to prep made her feel like a mother, something she never had a chance to be (something she couldn’t be). It was like packing a lunch for her kids before they set off for school.

  A little after seven a.m., Kasey was on the family room couch reading one of her lengthy novels. She could hear voices and rustlings coming from the downstairs bedroom. Sonya and Ally were probably up and getting dressed. Kasey set her book on the coffee table, got up, and headed toward the bedroom to check on the girls.

  As she passed the stairs, Lawrence was on his way down, dressed in…

  Oh Lord. What is this fool wearing? Damn this kid be strange.

  “What’s up, lady,” said Lawrence. “Do you like my outfit? I’m sure you do.”

  He was dressed in armor. Not real armor, as in steel and leather, but some form of decorative paddings with overlapping scales and a color scheme of black, red, green, and yellow. It looked cartoonish and fantastical, and made Kasey think of a samurai circus clown. He had the greaves, the gorget, the cuisses, and the upper and lower vambraces strapped on. Kasey knew the names of all the parts. Her husband Darren had loved history and owned a few books about armor and weaponry through the ages. Beneath Lawrence’s armor was a bright yellow utility vest, dark green cargo pants, and leather gloves. Those clothing articles were more appropriate for the excursion.

  Kasey stared, unable to shake off her bemusement, and slight amusement. “Boy, if I met someone on the street dressed like that, I’d scream and pepper spray the fool. Lawrence, why you dressed in some kinda Lord of the Rings armor getup?”

  Lawrence reached the bottom of the stairs. He set his hands on his hips and posed like a superhero for Kasey. “First of all, Kasey, this isn’t from Lord of the Rings. You obviously don’t know anything about Lord of the Rings. And second, yes, this is armor. Real armor, protection from teeth and nails. Kyle, Tristan, and I made them out of those foam mat board thingies, the one used for floors.”

  Charlene came out of the downstairs bedroom. “Ally and Sonya are also dressed in those ridiculous cosplay outfits. It’s from the anime Titan Storm Brigade, Kasey. We all got dressed last year at this convention in Sacramento. I think it was called Virgincon or something.”

  Tristan was on his way down the stairs. He was dressed in a similar fashion as Lawrence, with the colorful cosplay armor and the utility vest and cargo pants, except he had on a pair of goggles and his swordbelt around his waist. “It was called the Guild of Nerds Convention, Charlene, or Goncon for short.”

  “Yeah, whatever it’s called. I don’t care.” Charlene looked to Kasey. “I didn’t take part in that overhyped Storm Brigade bullshit. I dressed as a sexy elf queen that day.”

  “Wow,” said Kasey, nodding her head. “How interesting.” I don’t know what the hell’s going on right now.

  “You mean a slutty elf queen,” said Tristan.

  “Yeah, a slutty elf queen is what I meant.” Charlene looked at Tristan’s face with a smirk. “Hey, why you wearing goggles, asshole?”

  “Haven’t you seen the movie where a guy turned after getting diseased blood in his eyes? No, never mind, Charlene, you don’t know any zombie movies.”

  “Um, yeah I do. I’ve seen, um…Zombies of the Dead and The Walking Zombies a few times.”

  “There aren’t any movies called, Zombies of the Dead or The Walking Zombies. You made those up.”

  “Whoa, now.” Charlene’s palms went up, mimicking surrender. “Look, Tristan, there’s no need for an intense nerd debate. You’ve watched way too many zombie movies.”

  “Zombies are real,” said Lawrence, “in case you haven’t noticed. There’s a reason why we choose to wear all this today. It’s for functionality, as ridiculous as it looks.”

  “I know zombies are real, dodo-head,” said Charlene. “It’s a real life Zombies of the Dead out there, and that armor is gonna be useless against bullets. Aside from zombies, there’ll be people running around with guns.”

  “Well, if you see any bulletproof vests lying around this house, you let me know.”

  “It’s up your butt, Lawrence.” Charlene flashed an impish grin. “You like to put things in your butt.”

  “How would you know that, Charlene?”

  “Tristan told me.” She giggled, as she stepped away to the girls’ room.

  “Tristan should keep his mouth shut.”

  Kasey laughed. These kids be cracking me up sometimes. “I got all the things you’ll need on top of the dining table,” she said. “The packs have food and water in case y’all are out for more than a day. There’s also a bag with first aid.”

  “Oh,” said Lawrence, “I forgot about packing all that.”

  “I forgot, too,” said Tristan. “Thanks for doing all that, Kasey.”

  “Y’all too busy suiting up in your Storm Titan nonsense,” said Kasey. “It wasn’t trouble. It only took me half an hour. I didn’t want my babies to go out there and starve or have no bandages for their boo-boos.”

  “Dat’s mah mama!” Lawrence said, in the worst stereotypical black man impersonation ever heard.

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Kasey laughed hard.

  The downstairs bedroom door opened. Sonya and Ally came out dressed in their own cosplay armor. Sonya wore black leather beneath her paddings, a leather vest, leather pants, and leather gloves. It made sense to wear leather, as it was a protective material against bites from those things. Ally had on a red, buttoned-up raincoat beneath her armor, which was formfitting and extended to mid-thigh, and would also serve as protection.

  “Glad you two took my advice,” said Lawrence.

  “My armor still smells like stale beer,” said Sonya, “from when you spilled a pitcher of beer on me, Lawrence.”

  “You’re still mad about that? It was an accident.”

  “Accident? I remember you laughed and said to Kyle, ‘Hey, Kyle, I just soaked the bitch.’”

  Lawrence laughed. “Oh, yeah, I remember that. That was awesome.” He then stopped laughing, held a straight face, and tried to sound serious. “But that’s the least of our worries right now, me spilling an entire pitcher of beer all over you. We need to grab some weapons from the garage. Come on.”

  “Right.”

  S
onya walked off, with Lawrence following her through the family room and toward the laundry room. That left Kasey in an uneasy position, standing near the stairs with Ally and Tristan, who refused to look each other in the eye. Kasey wondered how the two would be able to work together later, how they’d fight and survive together.

  “Are you two nervous about today?” Kasey asked.

  “A little,” said Ally, nodding.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ally,” said Tristan, gazing at Ally as if it added significance to his bullshit words. It wasn’t the smart thing to say, being that he caused something to happen to her not long ago.

  “Sure,” said Ally. It was a curt reply, but better than a snappish one. She still despised him. It was evident in her hard, impassive look.

  Uh-uh, Tristan, don’t be looking into her eyes like that, like you gonna be her hero. Ain’t nobody forgot what you did to her. Kasey hoped Charlene would come out of the bedroom at any second. It’d provide a needed distraction from the discomfort of Tristan’s presence around Ally. Where did Charlene go? I need her to be talking loudly right now.

  Charlene stuck her head out from behind the bedroom door. “Dat’s mah mama,” she said, imitating Lawrence’s black man impersonation. She let out a screeching laugh.

  Kasey, Tristan, and Ally also laughed.

  “I heard Lawrence earlier,” said Charlene. “What a dumb-ass.”

  Joni

  “Hello,” Joni heard a deep voice say. “Hello, little girl, are you up yet?”

  She rolled onto her side, freed her head from the blankets, and opened her eyes.

  She screamed.

  Before her was a small rainbow-striped entity with a long mouth and round black eyes.

  It took Joni a few seconds of rapid blinking to realize the rainbow being was a sock. The black eyes were buttons.

  Ally’s head lifted into sight. “Sorry, Joni, I didn’t mean to scare you with my voice or this multicolored sock.”

  “You scared the poor girl,” shouted Charlene from outside the room.