The Famished 1 - Taking on the Dead

by Annie Walls

  “Some people have electric heaters, but they’re hard to get.” He drinks the syrup out of a can of fruit. “The outbreak happened at the end of summer. Not exactly a time when department stores would stock up on heaters.”

  “I saw some at the marketplace. I can only imagine how much they cost.” Probably five times of what you paid in the old life. The whole thing irritates me. My dad, being a heavy researcher, told me that if there were any kind of organized civilization after a major epidemic, then the things you need would be expensive. He told me to keep all metals that ceased to be mined. They would be invaluable. I thought about all the gold Guido had around his neck.

  Linnie would have taken an old silver or gold necklace, no problem. Of course, I didn’t grab anything from my mother’s jewelry box, even though it stores all the precious metals from my neighbor’s houses. I put them in there with the metals we already had. And like a dumbass, I set it all on fire. Anger courses through me. How could I be so stupid?

  Rudy misreads me. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” he smirks mischievously. Catching me off guard, my face heats. He grins wide, “Or, I can just say things that make you uncomfortable, and you can heat yourself up.” I roll my eyes, throwing a pillow at him.

  He lets it smack his head and the bandana slips off, messing up his hair. Blinking at the sight, I really need to keep myself busy and worn down. “You ready to get that stuff.” I ask as he ties the bandana back on. I try not to watch.

  “Ready when you are, Darlin’.”

  I sigh.

  ***

  The afternoon goes by quickly for us – spending time joking around, carrying things from the truck, and cleaning the room. When it’s time to go back to the Clap Trap, I don’t even realize it. I’m curious about tonight, and ask Rudy, glad I finally get out the entire question.

  “It’s like a circus trick with a zombie. This guy Mago trained his pet zombie, Pappers, to do tricks. It’s really very troubling.” His brow furrows.

  I freeze in mid-motion, braiding my locks. “What? How?” This captivates me, and I want to see it. Geez, maybe I found where I belong after all.

  “If you ask me, I think he keeps it on one of those magic leashes, the kind people used on their dogs, and just like dogs, he gives Pappers treats.” I try to keep my face blank, hoping I don’t have to watch someone feed mice to a zombie. Rudy obviously isn’t okay with the idea. Curiosity gets the better of me because I’ve been living in a hole for years. This place has certainly made me feel stupid for it. I have a feeling upon seeing this, I won’t be okay with it either.

  I shake my head, and all of a sudden want to take a shower, but I took one only yesterday. I don’t want to be greedy. Cleaning the area around my stitches, they itch from healing, and it’s hard not to scratch them.

  Rudy looks them over. “You’ll have a scar.”

  “Eh, my locks will cover it up. It’s not like people can see it.”

  “Guess you’re right, but it looks good. Although, I can tell you’ve been scratching it.”

  I agree with wide eyes, “Because it itches like hell. I’m glad it’s healing. I’ll repay you, you know?”

  He gets up to stretch. “You already have, Darlin’.” He grins that wide grin, but before I can ask how I did it, he says, “Come on, let’s get to the Trap.”

  Chapter 19

  When we arrive the Clap Trap starts to crowd with people. Once again, I’m completely amazed by how many people live here. Living alone for four years, people are something to get used to. Somewhere deep inside, I miss home so much my heart breaks. The faces of my past come back: my dad, my mom, my friends, and Malachi.

  Since arriving, all those things I did to survive seem a million miles away. I feel good, like I’m healing, slowly getting over my grief and guilt.

  Loud music pumps a rave beat. Everyone cheers when they spot Rudy, top moneymaker, and tell him they can’t wait for tomorrow night for him to fight again. I hate it because he doesn’t like doing it, so I feel responsible. It’s for Julie too, but looking at it from another perspective doesn’t make me feel any better.

  The people of the Trap are a mixed sort and entertaining to watch.

  People are dancing to the beat when I hear, “Hey, Rudy baby. Yew want company tonight? Yew knows I got time just for yew.” I stiffen. I know who it is without looking. I can smell Candy’s cheap perfume. I don’t look her way, just a way to escape. I mumble to Rudy before heading for the bar, only to realize I don’t have any money to pay for a drink. Frustration assails me. This situation needs to be turned around. Quickly.

  Sitting on a vacant stool, a tap on my shoulder alerts me to a visitor. Mac, wearing yet another white t-shirt. “What’s up, Kan? You ready to see Mago?” He sits on the stool next to mine, placing his hands on the bar. It’s sticky, and from the look on Mac’s face, it doesn’t sit too well with him.

  “Yeah, I’m curious about it. Rudy says he trained a zombie as a pet.” I say, watching as he wipes his hands on his pants.

  “You could say that. It was more interesting when Pappers, was famished.” This show-down will probably make me a little queasy. Mac continues, “Pappers is getting a little old for a zombie.” He leans in to whisper, “I hear he’s going to use a woman zombie next.”

  “That seems to be popular,” I comment, thinking of the famished tied up in Guido’s loft. Then, I glance toward the cage. Yep, naked zombie chick. I sigh and shake my head. Mac notices me looking in that direction.

  He laughs, “Hey, you want a drink?”

  I glance at him. “Only if you’re having one.”

  Mac acts as though he’s offended. “Of course, but I must be careful, I report for duty at 1200 hours,” he jokes.

  I stare at him curiously. “Military?”

  He nods, “Army. I grew up in East Tennessee. On holiday during the outbreak. Lucky, since most of the front men were the first to go. I grew out my hair just in case someone recognizes me and tells me to report.” We both laugh as he flags Bart.

  “Wut it be?” Bart asks in a rush, being busy tonight. Mac looks to me in question.

  I shrug. “What’s the standard?”

  Bart and Mac say, “Moonshine.” First time for everything, so I nonchalantly agree.

  Mac holds up two fingers, throws some money on the bar, and peers behind us. I follow his stare to Candy and Rudy standing close to the bar. A herd of people hoard around him, laughing and talking.

  “Looks like Rudy will be occupied for a while,” Mac decides from the swell of people near Rudy, or maybe he means Candy will hold his attention. “He’s got plenty of fans.”

  “Yeah, I guess he does.” I turn back to wait for my drink.

  “What do you think of his stalker?” He laughs, still watching Rudy.

  Don’t think much of her, but I keep that to myself and say, “It’s not my business. I didn’t know she’s a stalker, though.”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s part of the reason he doesn’t like being here. Tell you the truth, I wish I could leave.” He says the last off-handily, not really putting much thought into it. I don’t know what that meant, so I don’t say anything.

  Guilt now washes over me for leaving Rudy alone, but he’s never mentioned her. I never asked, either. Bart slides our drinks to us in mismatched glasses.

  I hold it up for a toast, Mac obliges and we down them. Feeling the burn in the back of my nose, all the way to my stomach, my eyes water as I try not to choke. My face scrunches up, “You could use this shit for gasoline!”

  Mac chuckles. “Yep, it burns, clears the pipes.”

  It takes a few minutes for my nose to clear, but my stomach’s already warm. “Yeah, this would make the best Molotov cocktails,” I blurt.

  Mac raises his eyebrows in surprise before grinning, “You are something. I could tell that when I stitched your head.”

  “You stitched my head?” He also checked Rudy’s ribs. He nods, “Well, thank you. I wondered who did, but I didn�
�t really want to know if it was Guido.” We burst into laughter, feeling the alcohol already.

  “Doesn’t surprise me you don’t remember. You were drugged. It was nasty. You were a mess – caked with dried blood, your hair had soaked it up like a sponge. Probably why you didn’t know the injury was there.” I smile my appreciation, secretly hoping I didn’t make an ass out of myself under the influence of prescription drugs.

  Remembering the river of pink when I washed my hair I say, “Figured as much, my mop came clean in the shower.” This conversation brings the stiff sheets to mind, his OCD with the arrows, and wiping the bar gunk on his pants. Good qualities for someone who treats infected wounds. “Thanks for sterilizing the sheets too,” I tell him, appreciating the OCD.

  His eyes widen. “Well, you had an infection. Couldn’t let you lay on that nasty mattress. Oh yeah, you might want to think about getting another for the duration of your stay.” He scrunches his nose, peering sideways at me, aqua eyes dancing with unspoken humor. “No problem,” he says, flashing his charming smile.

  The strings of ornamental and Christmas lights shut off, leaving the stage lit. A curtain of a dark orange material hides the stage.

  “Show time!” Mac says enthusiastically. He gets up from his stool. “Are you coming?”

  “I better rescue Rudy.”

  “Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t drink too much.” He slaps the bar before walking away.

  When I turn to find Rudy, he’s watching me. His eyes penetrate me, even through the darkness. Candy’s still there, very close to him, marking her territory. I hope he burns the brown t-shirt he wears, and his dark washed jeans. He seems uncomfortable, yet he talks to another guy, and tries to brush her off at the same time.

  Running my arm through his, I say, “Let’s go watch this.”

  He grins so wide at me, and Candy glares. A piece of her red hair falls into her face and sticks to her glossed lips. I keep my face blank as Rudy kisses the top of my head. I look up at him and smell the harsh scent of moonshine. He smiles, all dimples and teeth, as I try to figure out if he’s teasing again.

  He steers me away as the noise level softens, leaning down close, I can feel his breath in my ear. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” I say as I take my arm from his. “She looked like she was in heat.” I laugh.

  His lips tighten slightly for a tense smile. “She must always be in heat.”

  “You should just tell her to leave you alone. It must be your good looks,” I say, teasing him again.

  He beams at me through the darkness, seemingly at ease. “I could also say the same thing about your good looks, Darlin’.”

  I stare at him open mouthed, “Why do you always throw it back to me? Stop acting humble. You know you got it. Sex on feet, remember?” I emphasize, checking him out, giving him a look that I hope smolders. Several emotions flick across his face, but I can barely see though the darkness. The spotlight on the stage blinks on, reflecting out a glow from the orange curtain, illuminating faces.

  He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not me that’s unaware of my effect on people,” he says, fixing me with his stare.

  “Ooooh, there she is!” I turn to see Glinda, strutting her way toward me. “Yo Suga, I been lookin’ fo yew. Not long, all I had ta do was folla tha do rag!” She smiles at Rudy’s green bandana. He smiles back, clearly amused at the “do rag” comment. Glinda blinks in astonishment, as he blasts her with his allure.

  “What’s up Glinda?” I ask by way of greeting. Dressed as if going out on the town, complete with burgundy lipstick, she looks poured into her jeans. Her spaghetti strap top sparkles with rhinestones. Black patent pumps so high, complement her fabulous leggy nature.

  “I got yew a drank.” She hands me a shot, and hands one to Rudy with nails painted a matte burgundy. Cheap tequila drifts to my nose. “Wish I had us a lime! We could lick it, slam it, and suck it. We’ll just settle fo slammin’ tho.” We all laugh. I don’t know about mixing this with moonshine, but it’s not like I’ve much choice. I slam it, but it tastes like water compared to moonshine. Rudy watches me, flashing me a grin.

  The audience faces a stage that’s bigger, and on risers, than the small stage with the pole. The curtain still obstructs the view.

  A noise from behind the curtain draws everyone’s attention, a keening sound that makes the hair on my arms rise. I grip my crossbow – still not feeling safe, I slung it over my shoulder before leaving the room. Looking to the stage in time to see the curtain open, two famished run full speed toward us. Quickly, almost instantly, I lift the crossbow to take aim, as Rudy’s arm gently swipes it back down. He grins and shakes his head. The two famished clothes line themselves and fall to their butts. They’re attached to chains around their necks.

  The sound of a weird remix begins to beat through the Trap, the bass pulsates under my feet. Letting out a relieved breath, I realize it’s part of the show, and they’re not going to attack everyone. The famished get to their feet again, and unable to outreach the limits of the chain, they fall again. They snarl spittle, clawing and snapping at the air with stained black teeth. The decaying smell wafts outward into the crowd, more powerful than the thick cigarette smoke. Both zombies gleam with a clammy sheen to their skin. Something’s thrown on stage and the two jump for it, running into each other like defensive linebackers.

  I pull Rudy down to me, “What are they fighting over?”

  “Earth worms,” he says, grimacing.

  Right. Everyone in the audience remains transfixed watching them fight over earth worms. Appalling. The chains jerk back, and tighten to a shorter leash.

  A very tall, skinny man seems to float onstage as the music dies down. He’s rather imposing, with long, coarse black hair, and a dark goatee, grown to a point at the bottom, giving the appearance of a pointed chin. His skin is so dark, the two gold hoops in one ear is the only color on his person. Around his waist perches a small bucket. As he claps his hands, the crowd cheers.

  Walking across the stage is a very bloated and well-fed zombie. Yuck, he’d pop something nasty if someone shoots him. Mac’s right – Pappers isn’t famished, and not quite putrid, yet. Some of his movements are jerky, indicating he’s coming close.

  Never seeing such a well taken care of zombie, I don’t know what to think about him. He looks clean and wears cut off shorts. Mago moves his hand, and Pappers squats on his heels. Mago’s hand feeds him from the bucket. Another hand motion, and Pappers hops around the stage like a frog, unaware of the audience engrossed in this twisted idea of entertainment.

  Glancing at the famished still chained behind the spotlighted pair, they’ve stopped raging, remaining compliant as if they too, watch the show. Their eyes move as Mago moves, watching. They must be training as Pappers’ replacements.

  The crowd cheers as Pappers performs a series of tricks, including jumping through a flamed hoop, and swinging like a child on a jungle gym from two rings attached from the rafters. All the while he progresses through the tricks like an arthritic monkey with Parkinson's. After the flamed hoop a stench floats in the air that I can taste in the back of my throat. Several people head to the bar to buy liquor to cover up any taste left in their throat.

  Mago does another bit where he sticks his fist in Pappers mouth. I gasp; one bite would be all it would take to become famished himself. Pappers seriously gives me the heebie jeebies. A vacant look on his face – seemingly soulless. What if he’s not? Stuck inside as his body rots, controlled by insatiable hunger? Someone should kill him. Someone should kill them all.

  “Now for the grand finale!” Mago announces in a booming voice that makes me shiver deep within my bones, even though I’m flushed from alcohol. Mago gestures, and Pappers starts tumbling like a toddler around the stage. Extra creepy with all his spasmodic movements. He stands up and bends over a little unsteady, and flips his feet in the air. Mago catches them and holds them up, leaving Pappers to stand on his hands. The crowd goes haywir
e. Money gets tossed onto the stage. Body odor invades my nose from the crowd as they raise their arms in unison. The two famished still tied, resume their out of control flesh and meat lust.

  When the curtains close, I don’t move. I just stand there, staring at the curtain. Rudy touches my shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks dubiously.

  “That’s the most ghastly thing I’ve ever seen, and that includes Guido’s ‘art’,” I manage.

  “It’s lil’ hair-raisin’!” Glinda chimes in. “He got ta git a new dead ‘em.” She thinks I’m talking about his decomposition.

  I shake my head. “I think I need some rest,” I tell them as we watch the crowd disperse toward the bar and dance floor. The music’s loud and pumping, not working any magic on me, because I don’t want to be here anymore.

  “Oh, just one mo drank, and a dance! The night is young! I’ll buy, cuz I know yew broke.” I look at Rudy and shrug.

  He laughs, leaning in to whisper, “If you want to go, you can.” I just shake my head, and we follow Glinda to the bar.

  By the time the drinks come, Mac’s back and joking with Rudy. I can tell Rudy genuinely likes him. I take the shot thinking about tomorrow. Rudy seems fine, but Mac’s a little slurry. Being an army guy, I’m sure Mac can drink and get up at the crack of dawn the next day. The music’s thunderous, I’m about to leave when Mac grabs my hand. “Let’s dance,” he says excitedly, the moonshine making him brave.

  Passing Rudy, we both shrug at the same time, and Mac takes me to the dance floor. It’s been a long time since I last danced with a partner, and it feels good to swing my hips in time with the music. Mac’s a great dancer and a good lead. His hands slide to my hips, and he pulls me closer than I’m comfortable with. Redirecting his hands to my waist, I immediately feel like a prude, so when his hands move around to the small of my back, I let him.