The Famished 1 - Taking on the Dead

by Annie Walls

  “It’s disgusting. Even though some girls can’t help being that skinny. Most girls starve themselves, and all I want to do is give them some cookies. I don’t think it’s attractive to not eat.” I shrug.

  She nods approvingly as I dig into my brownie. “Can I take some of these to go?” I ask jokingly, and tell her so. I feel a lot better now with a shower and food. I did eat too much, but I need it. I’ll probably eat a lot today, and not be hungry tomorrow.

  “So, how did you know my name? It’s not like I have ID on me or anything?”

  She rubs her chin again. It’s a wonder it’s not raw. “Fingerprints.” I grow cold, turning to stone. “It seems yours were in the database. Quite the trouble maker,” she scolds. “We know all about you, Kansas City Sunshine Moore.”

  I stare at her. “Not everyone can be found that way.”

  “Not everyone has to be brought in being carried. Most of these people came here willingly.” A tight smile forms on her lips. I don’t believe her. Otherwise, how would they know I would make trouble before taking my fingerprints? They wouldn’t, leaving me to believe everyone is drugged and carried here.

  “Yeah, they thought it was a government camp. You know? The people that run the country?” My voice isn’t exuding with sarcasm. Much.

  She ignores my tone. “Battle of wills now.”

  I start to ask, but of course she holds up her hand. “All in good time, Kansas.”

  “Does everyone know about me?”

  She shakes her head, “No, just your name, and your tattoo.” She smiles. “Can’t really keep secrets like that around here.” Damn Reece and his “virgin canvas” speech. “But no. No one knows about your previous record with the police.” She eyes me and purses her lips. “We had to confiscate your bag and the laptop. Your previous actions from the former world let us know that would be the smart thing to do. The guns, it’s against the rules for civilians, and the guards know to look out for anyone who has had them.”

  I nod, not caring for those things. I can get more. This new information tells me my laptop would have been useful here. I file that away for future reference. About my past? I’m not proud of it. Therefore, I don’t want anyone to know about it. I was young and dumb, constantly testing my parent’s limits. It slowed down when Malachi became attached to my hip. I think that’s why they loved him so much. I loved him for that, too. That’s also why his parents could care less about me, and tormented him about it. It didn’t help that I was no less than frigid with them. They treated him poorly. I can see now, they just wanted what was best for him, but I never held him back from anything. I still got into trouble though. I’m surprised this base knows about the felony charge that had been thrown out.

  I sigh, letting those thoughts go. They never get me anywhere I want to be. “Where are the people that came with me?” I ask reluctantly.

  “Most have already adjusted, but none had records such as yours either. We took precautions with you. Are you ready to meet everyone?”

  “Might as well get it over with.”

  She peers sideways at me as we leave the cafeteria. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Do you know a Julie?” I ask, not knowing her last name.

  She glances at me again, this time with shock. She rubs her jaw. Her chin must be sore. All her face touching explains the little pimples lining her jaw. “Yes,” she says. “She’s the one giving you the tour tomorrow.”

  I freeze. “Wait. Didn’t you say she was married and in a fix?” Her look tells me she’s confused, not catching my meaning. “You know, pregnant?”

  She nods, watching my reaction. This just got a lot more complicated. I haven’t even met the tramp yet. I scoff at myself. Who am I to judge?

  Chapter 30

  The “singles” hall is just that, located adjacent from the cafeteria. It reminds me of a nursing home recreation room with an adjoining courtyard. Big TV’s with comfy seating make up most of the room. A huge bookshelf on a wall supports board games, DVD’s, books, music, and video games. I can really see myself getting into the mood here. Right.

  Pool tables and card tables take up a huge space in the middle. People talk in friendly groups. At first glance, I’m relieved not to recognize anyone.

  “The courtyard is out that way.” Donna points toward the double glass doors parallel from us. “The indoor pool is right across from the bathrooms, down that hall.” Her finger directs to an open hallway on the far right. “The workout room is also down there.”

  Workout room? Interesting, it will give me something to do if I get bored. Not likely. Right now though, I feel odd, and want to sneak back to bed. Actually, I’d rather take my chances running into the thousands of zombies outside the base.

  “Not everyone is here yet, still on their work detail, but will be here shortly. You will be assigned to do something, but can wait a few days while you get adjusted. I’ll see you soon. Dinner is at seven.” She gestures to a clock and it reads 3:17pm. “You’ll get use to the schedule, and everyone else’s. I have something I need to see to, so I’ll leave you to it.” She turns, leaving before I have a chance to say anything.

  A couple of guys smile at me. I snort to myself, and ignoring them, I walk out the double doors into the courtyard. The whole thing takes up half an acre of Bermuda grass – of course, it’s brown now, and freezing out here – with several benches. Little patio tables, a grill, some chaise lounges, and a volleyball net complete the scene. A fountain is the centerpiece of the courtyard. I imagine they plant flowers in the spring. Sitting next to the wall, I put my head on my knees willing the time to pass.

  ***

  I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear my name as a question. “Kan?” Afraid to look, I do it anyway, and my stomach drops.

  “Dalton?” He nods, but he doesn’t look happy to see me here either. He runs a hand down his face as tension permeates his handsome features.

  “You were the one they kept sedated,” he states as he shakes his head. “I hoped you escaped while all that was going down.”

  “I thought you weren’t there, that you went to find Mac.” My voice shakes, I’m unable to contain it.

  “I did.” I stare at him with hope. Sitting down beside me, he slumps and stares at nothing. “The guy I saw told me Mac wasn’t there. He got into a massive fight with another guy and left the community.” My face goes flat as my stomach sinks even lower and threatens to come up in the form of vomit.

  “A fight? Who was the other guy?” I don’t really want to know.

  “I don’t know. I was just upset that he left.” He peers at me. “I did tell the guy that I knew where you were, that you were kidnapped. If Mac goes back, he’ll know where you were and figure out what happened. I’m sorry Kan.”

  “Who was the guy you talked to? Did he know me?”

  “Yes, they thought you ran off by yourself. I don’t know why they would think that.” I do. I just found out the truth about Julie. With Mac thinking I had a more-than-friends feelings for Rudy, well, I’m not surprised he left. I still can’t help thinking about the morning we shared. Did Mac really think I would leave? He assumed though, and that kills me. “The guy was Bart, the bartender dude.”

  I nod. Good. Mac will know if he goes back, but that’s a big if.

  “I couldn’t stay to find out more. When I did get back to my post, not ten minutes later I got stuck with a needle. They know I’m from the Coalition, and are keeping an eye on me. I need to get out though.”

  “Me too, but I’m going to find some things out, first.”

  Dalton takes on a serious look. “No, Kan, you can’t listen to them. You can’t trust these people.”

  This pissed me off. “You mean you haven’t even bothered to figure out what’s going on here? What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t trust them, but something big is happening. I can’t believe you and that damned Coalition aren’t doing anything about it!” I snap.

  “We are. No one is in dange
r yet. Things take patience, and time.”

  “Bullshit! I’ve been kidnapped twice, because of my age. There is something wrong with that, and I have been harmed! Violated, drugged, forced into a psycho marriage, this close to having sex against my will with a minor.” I hold up my forefinger and thumb to indicate how close. “And the same fucking thing is going to happen here!” I seethe, practically feeling steam coming from my orifices. I decide to tell him about my team. “I have people coming here to help, just be ready to haul ass and help when you hear boom sounds.”

  His eyes widen on the last in sudden alarm, “What? Did Mac know about this?”

  “Yeah, he was part of –”

  A hand cuts me off. “What? He isn’t supposed to get caught up in civilian issues. Only report them,” he says this quickly. From the way he glances at me, I don’t think he wanted to tell me that. “At least that explains why he left. He went to report it,” he adds, coming up with his own explanation.

  Great. I don’t need that complication if it’s true, and a sad thing that I really don’t know what’s going on with Mac. “I can’t be seen with you. They won’t talk to me if they do.” Getting up and walking away, I fume at the confirmation Mac knows about the guys in black canvas.

  ***

  A movie plays on the TV screen, and I think it might be some romantic comedy. To my utter delight, it isn’t, I settle on a blue sofa just as Will Farrell “The Tank” streaks down the road in Old School.

  “You like this movie?” I cut my glance sideways to a guy sitting beside me, locking his hands behind his buzzed, black head of hair. My gaze shoots to his button up bowling shirt, looking very Charlie Sheen-ish. The guy’s got to be at least five to ten years older than me. He laughs, “Such suspicion. Don’t worry, I’m not hitting on you.”

  “Yes, I love this movie.” I state and go back to watching.

  His mouth opens to say something else, but I hold up my hand. “Fuck off.” Saccharine laces through my tone.

  His brows lower and ripple together, face twisting he says, “What? You think you’re too good for anyone here?” A smirk crosses his thin lips as his dark brown gaze roams over me. Attractive, but I don’t want anything to do with him.

  “That never crossed my mind.” I get up and start walking toward the open hall door.

  “Kan?” The voice is thick with excitement. Knowing the voice right off the bat, I bite the inside of my lip, so I won’t explode on the dumbass.

  I do anyway, “What the hell are you doing here, Kale?” He looks around, swallowing. “I thought I told you to go south.” He looks better than he did before, with hair covering his ears, wearing a long sleeved T-shirt with some kind of logo on it, and jeans with a pre-made hole in the knee. I’ve seen Sam wear that logo before but don’t know what it means. Some kind of skater gear, I assume.

  “Uh, I followed you here. Speaking of which, where have you been?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

  “Around.” I remember how pleasantly relieved I was, getting rid of him the first time.

  He grabs my arm, “Let’s go talk for a minute.”

  Jerking my arm away, I say, “No!” I stare him down and he visibly shrinks back, pissing me off that he doesn’t have the balls to stand up for himself. Although, him flinching from me makes me feel bad. “Later, okay? You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  He nods, smiling his smile that had once kind of charmed me.

  “Besides, I’m pissed. You should have gone to Birmingham.” Everyone stares at us. A few of the girls glare daggers at me. Apparently he’s been turning on the charm. Turning back to Kale, I say, “You’re already causing me to get glares from other people.” I think for a second. “You know Bridget thought you left with me? I had to knock her out.”

  “You went back?”

  I nod, slipping a quick grin. “To set my house on fire. Then again to get my books.” I pause before going on, “Harley is dead.” Ice blue eyes blink at me, Kale probably assumes I killed him.

  “You’re different.” He studies me, mostly my hair.

  “No, I think I just found myself.”

  He shakes his head, throwing hair out of his intense gaze. “Maybe, but you’re talking.”

  He’s right. I hardly communicated with them when they were guests in my bunker. Now, I’m chatting it up like he’s my long lost friend. He wants me to elaborate, but I’m ready to get out of here. “You should have gone to Birmingham, Kale.” With that I turn to go back to the dorm.

  ***

  A few hours later, I’m under the covers sleeping with Mac’s shirt when someone shakes me awake. I look out to see a young woman standing beside my bunk. Her fair, curly blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but cute little curls escape in ringlets around her face. A belly sticks out, looking way too large for her petite body. A black and white printed maternity blouse hangs stylishly off one shoulder, and a red, beaded necklace with a huge red heart pendant rests between her breasts. I know who this is, and I glare at her.

  “Hi,” she says, as awkwardness hangs in the air between us. I keep glaring, better than telling her she’s stupid. She swallows, “I’m Julie. Donna said you asked for me? I’ve never seen you though. Did one of your dorm mates request me?”

  “Mistake,” I turn back over.

  “I know you don’t want to be here, but if you give it a chance you could have a family, and be happy.” An awkward silence follows, and her feet shift as fabric smoothes together as if she is fidgeting. Good. Let her squirm. She thinks my glaring is for being held captive. That would make her half right. A dip moves the bunk as she sits. “I hope we can be friends. I guess I’ll take you on the tour tomorrow as planned.” This piques my interest.

  “No. Take me now.”

  ***

  She’s shorter than me, even with her red patent pumps. Who wears pumps while pregnant? Keeping my arms crossed, I don’t look at her as she tells me about the different buildings. I notice she skips over several, and when asked about them, I get the, ‘Dr. Finnegan usually does the tours,’ and she doesn’t know much about them. What is with everyone and their lies? We go to a small setting with little brick houses lining the way. Several mature trees line up behind them. She tells me this is the independent family housing. Each house has been landscaped to fit the personality of the owner.

  She takes me to her little house, landscaped with holly bushes, and she planted buttercup bulbs for the spring. Like I care. She introduces me to her husband, Jonathan, who’s nice, good-looking, and tall with light buzzed hair and matching light brown eyes. A nurse at the medical ward, he’s happy to see Julie through her pregnancy, which explains the green scrubs he wears. Being excessively friendly and uplifting, he gazes at Julie with adoration. For how nice they are, they must get some kind of incentive. A bonus if my attitude turns around to become ultra happy.

  She offers me little chocolate chip cookies. The chocolate chips arranged into a smiley face on each cookie. The house is neat, clean, and normal. Normal for the late seventies, that is. The walls are wood paneled, and brown shag carpets cover the floor. An avocado-green refrigerator sits on top of vinyl flooring, and an old oak table with matching chairs make up the small kitchen.

  The living room and its furniture cast a variety of warm colors: yellow, orange, and red with splashes of green to accent. Not a kitten knickknack out of place. Julie’s knitting basket is full of little, pink baby crap.

  I snap to as they talk to me. I haven’t said anything the whole time, and Jonathan begins to fidget, feeling uncomfortable with me. That makes two of us. Julie gets me out of there as fast as she can.

  We go to a playground where kids play and parents push their children on swings. Laughter heightens as the merry-go-round spins faster. These poor kids don’t know what’s happening, being sheltered and caged like animals, livestock.

  “Tell me this Julie – what does it take to be fed to a zombie?”

  Her eyes widen as she looks at me, studyi
ng me for a time before nodding, coming to a conclusion. “When someone is terminally ill, too old – they need help to live – or as punishment for something severe, like killing a person. Otherwise, they feed them…domestic bovine.” Her tone changes as she says bovine.

  “So if your baby,” I softly pat her belly, “comes down with leukemia at age five, you’ll willingly hand it over?”

  She pauses, obviously not thinking of this on her own. “There are risks, of course. I’m willing to chance it. We get the best prenatal care. You are under prenatal care too.”

  Like good prenatal care prevents cancer. “That’s what you want for your child? To grow old and be fed to zombies like a cow? Maybe in the meantime, watching a terminally ill child of their own get thrown to the wolves?”

  She gets flustered, her face turning pink. Good. She will give me information that way. “If you step back and look at things, you will see that it’s the only negative thing out of it. Do you want someone to change your shit diapers when you’re old? No? Who does? Before the infection, old people cost money. It’s the same with criminals and terminally ill people, all the housing, food, medical care, and research they needed to stay alive.” Her chin juts out.

  My jaw hangs open, and I snap it closed. I can’t believe this is the crap they sell. It’s true, but still. Everyone deserves to live, no matter how they chose to live their life. It’s not up to us to play God.

  She goes on, obviously knowing I’m not buying. “Not to mention the six billion people population destroying the earth, and the war coming. Something had to be done. You should consider yourself lucky you weren’t killed in the process, and be thankful you still have a life. You should try to live it as much as you possibly can.”

  Chills break out across my skin. “What do you mean something had to be done? How do you know zombies won’t infiltrate this place?” I blurt all at once. My brain is going into information biohazard alert zone.