The Faces of Lions (Book One - The Reset)

by Angie Morel

  Later that day, Clutch was riding his skateboard around the main level, whooping it up, when he suddenly flipped off the board and grabbed at his face, howling. His body hit the floor hard and rolled a couple of times before he shot up screaming “Get that little fucker!” Blood was running down his face from a mark that was already swelling on his forehead. Savannah stood in the mall area dumbfounded, having no clue what just happened.

  Butcher informed her. Apparently there was a kid who lived in the mall that was wicked with a slingshot. He’d take shots at them from the exposed floors above and then scamper away and hide. So far no one had been able to catch him or find him. They figured he must’ve been at the mall with his parents when Zombie Day happened. On top of never finding him, they never found where he slept either. Penny—during a rare moment when she actually put words together to form a sentence—said she got a fleeting look at him and he appeared to be just a little kid.

  The group searched for him throughout the winter and the consensus was that he died from starvation and the cold since there was no sign of him and weeks had passed since he’d taken any shots at them.

  When spring arrived at last, it brought warmer weather as well as an intense yearning for real food. Savannah was so tired of eating nothing but junk. Thankfully, the drug and alcohol binge had lost its appeal rather quickly (for her at least). The feeling numb part was good at first, but a diet consisting of Jack Daniels, hydrocodone from the pharmacy, and candy bars took its toll after a while. It had helped during the winter, acting like a shot of Novocain against the bone-deep cold that invaded the mall. The part that sucked was after a few weeks she felt shaky and ill anytime she had to get up and move around.

  By the end of January she quit cold turkey—both the alcohol and the drugs. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering. The decision came during a bout of uncontrollable diarrhea. Shit ran out of her like water, hot and smelly and staining her pants. No amount of hole-puckering would stop the flow. Brenda had a riot with that, of course. Called her Polly Poopy Pants. But Savannah didn’t care (for the most part anyway), because a week without those things made her feel like a new person. Not healthy and ready to conquer the world by any means, but a hell of a lot better, that was for sure.

  April crawled over into May. Savannah had been sitting in a blazing square of sunlight on the upper level of the mall, her actions lacking any type of enthusiasm as she placed one stale chip after another into her mouth, when the epiphany hit.

  It was a vision of her aunt and uncle’s house. The thought of what it could provide entered her brain and began to grow like a plateful of buffet food.

  They had farm animals and gardens and all kinds of stuff to make real food. In her mind it was nothing that you actually had to work at. She remembered thinking if her little shit cousins were there, she could kick them out. Or better yet, make them stay and serve her and Clutch and the others, like slaves. Excitement blossomed inside. The first positive feelings in weeks.

  Convincing the others proved to be difficult. They were not impressed or interested. This confused Savannah. She didn’t understand why they didn’t want to live better. Clutch told her to quit talking about it. He told her he didn’t give a shit if she wanted to check out her cousin’s house, they were going to stay at the mall. Cheeto said no too, which pissed Savannah off since she let him bang her a few times throughout the long cold winter—boredom and loneliness dropping her standards to the absolute bottom of the barrel. He should’ve been willing to do anything she wanted just based on that.

  Determined to prove herself, she set out alone. Unfortunately, the car she’d chosen stalled about two miles from her cousin’s house, on a desolate stretch of road. The car backfired a few times when she tried to restart it. Each time, she glanced around in panic. All she could envision was the sound acting as an announcement to any zombies in the area that dinner was served. Not that she’d seen any of them actually eat people. And even though the ones in Barnes and Noble didn’t appear to have chowed down on poor Louie, she’d seen enough zombie movies in her life to know that they’d probably morph into flesh or brain eaters at some point.

  As she sat there trying to figure out if the engine was flooded, four figures crossed a field and lurched towards the car. By the time she noticed them, it was almost too late.

  Having no choice—she exited the car. Good thing they couldn’t move fast, because it wasn’t long before her full-out run dissolved into a puffing, red-faced hustle-walk. And that being the case, she was never able to achieve a good lead on the four following her since she left the car. Whenever she looked back, the damn things were always there, within sight.

  However, what infuriated her more than anything was how the car stalling fiasco threw off her arrival plan. The plan (if her cousins were indeed there) had been to drive in like a savior, intent on saving the day. They’d be so grateful that their older and wiser cousin thought about them and cared enough to drive all the way to their house to check if they were alive and needed help. They’d be putty in her hands.

  Instead, she was the one in need of rescuing. What made it even worse was the fact that her cousins weren’t alone—and didn’t look like they needed any type of help at all. There was no alternative plan set for what to do if additional people were there—it never even crossed her mind. And it pissed her off to see them waiting for her out front, watching her like it was no big deal. She just ran her ass off and they stood there, all clean and healthy and well-fed, waiting for the peasant to finish her journey to the castle.

  It didn’t bring out her best behavior, to say the least.

  Feeling sick from the exertion her out-of-shape body had to endure, and unprepared to see extra people at the house, she snapped. When Claire rushed over with the Gatorade, fake concern plastered all over her expression, Savannah wanted to vomit. She also wanted to grab the bottle and smash it into Claire’s face, over and over again. Instead, she shoved it away, not realizing how much force was used. Next thing she knew Claire and the bottle went flying.

  She should’ve controlled her anger. The glares from the others were immediate and hot. And it didn’t go over well when she apologized later, either. Her tone wasn’t convincing enough, or something. Whatever it was, she could tell they didn’t believe her. She could’ve snowed her cousins, but not the other four.

  While in bed last night, and unfortunately dealing with a slight case of indigestion from having real food in her stomach for the first time in months, she realized this wasn’t going to work. The best thing she could do now was find a way to get back to the mall, screw the original plan. Maybe she could pick up some canned food and other supplies on her way back, she thought. The others would appreciate her efforts at providing for them, and then she’d simply tell them the house was a no-go. After Clutch’s reaction to her suggestions about going, she wasn’t sure she could’ve gotten them to leave the mall anyway.

  That was her reformulated plan…until Asha’s visit to her room this morning. What a surprise. A game changer, even. Her way out and back to the mall, with a little revenge thrown it to boot, and it had fallen right into her lap.

  The only possible snag was the backpack she’d stupidly left behind. Hopefully Claire would be the one to find it. That goody two-shoes wouldn’t dare snoop through someone else’s stuff. However, if anyone else discovered it and took a peek inside, she’d be in deep shit. They’d come looking for her for sure.

  But they wouldn’t find her, because she went the opposite direction of the town where they were planning on getting supplies, which stupid Asha didn’t even realize, Savannah thought with pleasure. She had a whole different destination in mind, and it was an additional thirty minutes away from where they were supposed to be.

  They’d never figure out where she was! She’d be—

  Savannah blanched, her enjoyment snuffed out momentarily. Did she mention Coben Cross Mall in her journal? She was sure she did. Probably several times. Hopefully they wouldn
’t scope out her bag and discover the drugs and read through her pathetic journal pages. Her jaw clenched. She couldn’t help it—she’d kept a journal of some sort for years now. Packed inside were page after page of vicious thoughts and raging anger that flowed out of her in small, neat, block-style print.

  After she told Claire she was going to bed last night, she stayed up and spewed out five pages before even trying to sleep—lots of stuff to vent about. That entry alone would be all the ammunition they’d need to come after her, to assume that she’d probably head back to the mall with Asha if given the chance.

  Screw it, she thought, she’d worry about it when she had to worry about it.

  Pulling around to the back of the mall she stopped, relieved that she’d thought to hide the key to the outside door of Gymboree under a chunk of asphalt near the door instead of taking it with her. No doubt it would’ve been stowed away in her backpack that she’d left at the house. The key was her way back into the mall so she could surprise everyone.

  Chapter 25

  I wasn’t sure if it was the headache or odd position of my body that forced me awake. Keeping my eyes closed, I took stock of the situation. Something didn’t feel quite right. My pulse thrummed through my veins in a weird sort of way, like it does sometimes when you’re sick. And there was zero moisture in my mouth. Trying to work up some spit, I wondered what happened.

  For some reason I was on my side, my face mashed against scratchy carpet or cloth of some sort, and my hands were stuck together in front and wouldn’t pull apart. Wait. After attempting to move my hands again, my fingers explored the area around my wrists. It took me a second to realize that they were tied together with some type of binding. What the hell?

  Something slithered in the depths of my brain. The last thing I remembered was being in the car with Savannah. We’d been driving into a more congested area, and then things became…murky. Did I get tired? Yes, that’s it, I’d gotten really tired. Almost dopey with sleep. Dopey. Dope. Savannah. That’s what slithered. She’d drugged my Gatorade. Why the—

  Voices.

  People were approaching.

  Controlling my breathing, I cracked open my eyes. Unfortunately, my left eye saw nothing but darkness and my right couldn’t see past the curtain of hair that hung across my face. I must’ve been flung down like a sack of potatoes by whoever had deposited me here. Savannah’s tender care, no doubt. My shoulder was jacked up by my ear and my neck was cranked sideways. At least I could tell that my legs weren’t tied together, because my ankles were nowhere near each other. Staying calm, I forced my body to be still.

  The voices were closer. Whoever it was, they were coming up behind me.

  The position of my body was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, and the desire to move was hard to resist. Ignoring it, I worked on my breathing, which had amped up a bit. Slow in—slow out. Whoever was coming needed to think I was still out so they’d talk freely. Maybe then I could figure out what was going on.

  “…would be perfect for us. We would have to boot out the others that are there, but the house has everything that we, you know, would need. Well, we’d have to bring some stuff, but…”

  That was Savannah’s voice.

  In this case, I hated being right. I knew she’d been up to no good.

  “Well, I think it sounds like a good plan,” another female voice said after Savannah finished. “So, uh, what do we do with her? Who is she again?”

  They were right behind me, I’d guess about two or three feet away. A certain smell arrived with them too. Body odor. There must be a cloud of it surrounding the other girl. It was the same eye-watering scent that wafted around Savannah when she’d first arrived at the house. I made sure to breathe through my Sahara Desert-like mouth.

  Was it just the two of them? I started formulating what I could accomplish in my limited position on the floor. Could I take on both of them? Probably, if the other girl was like Savannah. Weapons would be a problem. If they had weapons I’d have to bide my time. What I really needed to do was get my hands free. That would open up more possibilities.

  “Her name is Asha, and I didn’t kill her because I thought I could give her to Clutch, like a gift, ya know? A toy for him to play with. Or we could just “Barnes and Noble” her, that’s always fun to watch,” Savannah snickered.

  So there were two of them—and at least one more named Clutch, somewhere at this same location. Should I make a move now? There might not be another chance with only two of them, both girls, around me now. Besides, this Clutch boy might be on his way momentarily.

  I better go for it, I decided.

  And then my stomach suddenly cramped in pain.

  Fantastic, I thought. Perfect fucking timing. My mind willed the uncomfortable pinching in my gut to ease. After the cramp went away I tensed, getting ready to move, and then had to pause again as another cramp hit me. Jesus Christ. The sick feeling wasn’t helped by my indecision. The cramp went away again.

  Now or never.

  They were still at my back so I scissored my legs behind me, in the hopes of connecting with ankles or shins or whatever. I was half-lucky, hitting Savannah first and pitching her to the floor, but the other girl had just enough time to jump back.

  I quickly scrambled to my feet and then promptly fell back into a rack of infant clothing. Whoa, the world was spinning and an exquisite pain had exploded inside my brain, making my eyes squint with the intensity. And I thought the headache was bad when I was on the floor? That was nothing compared to this. My stomach rolled and I had to concentrate on not throwing up. I must’ve stood up too fast after the cocktail of drugs Savannah gave me.

  Pushing against the clothes rack, I squared up, ready to kick, blinking past the black dots attacking my vision. My body had other plans though, tilting me to the side. I caught myself at the last second and held my tied hands out front, in case I needed to block a hit.

  It was stupid of Savannah to tie them in front, and not to tie my feet. Although it was dawning on me that maybe I wasn’t much of a threat right now anyway. Squinting again, I couldn’t believe how bad my head hurt. The pain was incredible. Another cramp attacked my mid-section. What the hell had Savannah given me? This was ridiculous!

  “You stupid fucking bitch!” Savannah roared, jumping to her feet. “Get her Donna!”

  Donna stood with her back against the check-out register, eyes comically big behind glasses. “What do you want me to do?” she squeaked, looking between Savannah and me.

  “Throw something at her! Fuck! Do something!” she shouted.

  Shit, I thought, I was not on my A-game, that’s for sure. Thankfully the cramp passed and I took a couple of steps to steady myself, preparing to kick Savannah, who looked like she was getting ready to charge. That’s when I noticed my backpack on her back. If only I could get to it, my gun was in there. I didn’t need to have my hands free to use the gun.

  A sound suddenly came to my ears. It was a weird rolling type of sound and was steadily growing louder. I worried for a minute that it was in my head, an indication that I was going to pass out or something.

  “Here comes one of the boys,” Donna said, relief saturating her tone. The rolling sound stopped right outside the store. Something on wheels, I realized.

  When the words “one of the boys” came out of Donna’s mouth, I cursed silently. That meant at least two or more boys here with them. My chances of escaping were dwindling with each passing second. Turning my head carefully, I managed to keep Savannah in my vision while watching for the approach of the “boy” Donna had mentioned.

  “What’s goin’ on here? Well, well, lookee who’s back.” A large figure entered, cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was big, but it was a chunky and non-athletic kind of big, so that was good. I watched him warily, my nose and queasy stomach noting that his smell matched his size.

  Taking a deep breath through my mouth, my sluggish brain ticked off an attack plan. Take out the boy first, then Savannah,
and then Donna, who I figured was one of those people (like most) that shut down when faced with violence. I hoped so at least. Any advantage would help, because unfortunately I was having a bit of a problem with double vision. And I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn’t puke.

  “Well, Butcher,” Savannah said, drawing his name out. “I have a guest here that I was going to see if Clutch wanted, only she woke up before I could move her down to our place,” she said, keeping her eyes on me. There was an eager pitch to her tone that I didn’t like.

  “She not wanna be here?” Butcher asked, confused.

  “No, as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.” Savannah smirked at me. “I kidnapped her from my cousin’s house. We can probably kill her, but we may have to keep her alive to use as leverage if we decide to go back to my cousin’s house, though.” Regret was heavy in her tone.

  “Oh. You want me to grab her or somethin’?” he asked Savannah, looking between the two of us through curling wisps of cigarette smoke. She stared at him like he was a moron. He didn’t appear to notice

  “Uh, yeah, and as soon as you do I’m going to tie her feet. I didn’t think of that before.”

  The brutal nature of people and what they’re capable of doing stopped surprising me long ago. The things I’d witnessed and the situations I’d been through in my youth exposed me to all kinds of sick human behavior. However, I was still taken aback by the casual tone Savannah used when mentioning my possible death. Had she really fallen so far? Savannah and Butcher were talking about me like I was an animal they needed to put down.

  And what kind of name was Butcher, I wondered. Hopefully it was just a form of Butch, not a nickname for someone who liked to…ah…butcher people or something.