BITTEN Omnibus Edition (Books 1-3): The Resurrection Virus Saga

by Tristan Vick

Kevin nodded silently to show he understood then turned around to fetch his motorcycle. The bandits picked the wrong village to torch. If there was one thing Kevin was good at, it was killing monsters. And as far as he was concerned, these evil sons of bitches were monsters. Not your typical mindless, bumbling creatures, but lethal, deliberate, immoral fiends. Now he’d hunt them down and make them pay for what they had done. He’d make them regret ever having set foot in Aokigahara.

  36

  Welcome to the New Wild West

  The Scorched Lands: Las Vegas, Nevada, U.S.A.

  The Cowboy, Gordon Longstaff, grumbled to himself and tensed up as he went to full alert. Although he was as tough and rugged as they came, he knew that wherever the Earthlanders showed up, trouble always followed. Always.

  “Hey, will ya’ looky here,” said the ring leader. His distinguishing feature was the flaming skull tattoo he had on his chest, visible from underneath his Harley Davidson leather biker vest, and the neon-green Mohican hairdo he sported. He wore tight leather pants, and had a single shoulder pad with spikes protruding out of it.

  In all honesty, Longstaff felt that the fella’s hairdo was just plain ole stupid. The special kind of stupid—the stupid that thinks looking stupid is cool because they’re too damn full of themselves to know how stupid they look.

  “We got ourselves a real-life cowboy,” the last of the Mohicans said, looking rather amused.

  Spreading out, slowing encircling the Cowboy like a predatory pack were three more Earthlanders. Each of them was just as strangely dressed as their leader. A barrel-chested man with a black beard wore a spiked collar and what seemed to be football armor draped over his burly shoulders. All of it was held in place by a series of leather scraps.

  Eying the others, the Cowboy noted that next to the big one was a scrawny little guy with tattoos winding up his neck. He had a shaved head and a barcode tattooed on the back of his skull. In addition to the tats, like the rest of them, he had a face full of metal piercings, most of which didn’t seem like they could have been all that pleasant to have gotten. Another thing that stood out was that all of his front teeth were studded with diamonds.

  Concluding the “Fantastic Four” was a woman with platinum blond bangs that draped over the sides of her shaved head and fell around her heavily painted eyes. Of course, Longstaff couldn’t help but notice that she had the most extreme get up of all. Apparently ‘modesty’ wasn’t a word that was in her vocabulary.

  “Blondie,” as Longstaff had nicknamed her in his own mind, wore oversized skull earrings, had on silver-dollar sized black pasties that formed X symbols across both of her nipples, and white leather chaps over bright lime green bikini bottoms.

  Blondie bent down and rubbed her leg, pretending to stretch, but she was really just making a show of her perfectly formed ass. A bit of a cock-tease, Longstaff surmised. It went hand in hand with her lack of propriety.

  Like the others, she was drilled full of holes and laden with metal. Her eyebrows had a series of rings, maybe five or six per brow. Her ears contained the same number of metal rings, starting with the smallest rings at the top of her ear which got bigger as they reached the skulls at her earlobes. Additionally, she had a spiked stud through each of her nostrils and another coming out of her bottom lip.

  While the gang encircled the Cowboy, Blondie slunk up alongside Longstaff and leaned back against the bar. She fixed her darkly lined eyes on the tall, handsome cowboy, brushed her blond bangs aside, and bit her bottom lip in a seductive fashion. “What are you supposed to be, like, the Marlboro man or something?” the woman asked.

  Longstaff chose to ignore her.

  “Mr. Green,” a suitable nickname for the green Mohican whose dominant posture gave away his rank, was obviously the alpha-male of the bunch. Everyone stepped out of his way whenever he moved and avoided direct eye contact any time he looked at them head on. Disregarding the Cowboy, Mr. Green leapt over the counter and searched through the bottles of alcohol before settling on the ones he liked best. H began to mix himself a drink.

  “You’d think a fancy place like this would have ice,” Mr. Green quipped. Everyone laughed nervously at his rather bland joke. There hadn’t been ice in an icebox for over three years. Not since the power grids all went out.

  Pushing out her balloon sized chest, the woman eyed Longstaff up and down. “So whatcha’ drinkin’ hot stuff?”

  “Whiskey,” he replied in a gruff voice.

  “Ooh, hard core.” She licked her teeth and smiled flirtatiously at him. “I like a man that can hold his liquor.”

  The tattooed freak began laughing hysterically, like a hyena that was high on grass and couldn’t stop laughing for whatever reason, even though nothing particularly funny had been said. This one seemed a little bit off his rocker, thought Longstaff.

  Mr. Giggle’s hysteric cackling was met by a silencing bark by Frank, who seemed just as annoyed by it as the Cowboy was.

  “Woof?! Woof yourself. You dumb dog!” Mr. Giggles shouted down at Frank.

  Suddenly everyone’s eyes snapped onto Frank. “Ooh, a cute little pooch!” Blondie said in a squeaky, high-pitch baby voice. Bending down, once again thrusting out her ass for maximum exposure, she put out her hand and beckoned toward Frank. “Come here boy, I won’t hurt’cha. Much.”

  Everyone had a chuckle at Frank’s expense and Gordon Longstaff found himself running out of patience, fast. He didn’t like it when people insulted and threatened his dog.

  “If you don’t mind,” Longstaff began, “Frank here is a lady. I suggest you show some manners.”

  Everyone turned and looked at Longstaff since it was the first time he spoken out.

  “He does speak!” Blondie chirped.

  Mr. Green found this all very amusing and laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. “You suggest we show manners to yer’ dog? Ha! Ha-ha! Good one, fella.” Without saying another word, he held up the drink he’d been mixing and, after a thorough inspection, kicked it back and sent it down the hatch.

  Blondie cocked her head with a confused look. “I’m curious, why’d you name your bitch ‘Frank?”’

  Longstaff chose to go back to ignoring her.

  After a brief pause, Blondie broke out laughing, and slapped her leg. “Guess we’re back to the ole silent treatment again.” Leaning in toward Longstaff, Blondie held up her fingers in the form of a V and did a little mock cunnilingus between the slit, and added, “A man of few words ain’t a bad thing…as long as you can eat a girl out proper like!”

  Everyone laughed again at her slurping noises as she went to town on her imaginary girlfriend. Longstaff just turned his head away and ignored her lewd gesture.

  That’s when Mr. Giggles walked over to Frank, who began growling defensively. “You know, I haven’t had myself a good meat steak in a lonnng time.”

  As he drew closer to Frank, fingers outstretched, Longstaff picked up his cowboy hat up from the bar stool and put it on his head. As he rose up to a towering six foot three inches, he called out to Frank, “Come along, girl. We got places to be. Let em’ have the bar to themselves.”

  Frank quickly scurried out from under the bar and Gordon Longstaff, Frank by his side, turned to leave.

  Suddenly Blondie jumped up and stepped into their path. Thrusting out her chest, she put her hands on her hips in a sign of displeasure and asked, “Going so soon, sweetheart?”

  “Had me my fill.”

  “Oh, but we do mind!” Mr. Giggles said, with a chortle. “We were just all getting’ acquainted…friendly like.”

  Longstaff looked over at the big guy, who seemed the only viable threat, then he glanced back at Blondie who was using her cleavage as a strategic roadblock to stop his exit.

  Making an attempt to sidestep her, Longstaff suddenly felt a blade pressed against his gut. Blondie smiled up at him viciously, her grin filled with malicious intent. “I think we gonna have ourselves some fun first.” Looking around at the boys, she continued, “
What do you all say if I straighten out this gnarly old whiskey-dick right here, right now? Any objections?”

  Nobody objected.

  “Good,” the girl said, licking her teeth as she smiled. Putting the knife on the counter, the girl bent over, then like a professional stripper, and said, “Hey, cowboy…tits or ass?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Longstaff said, a hint of disgust in his voice.

  Slapping her own ass, Blondie looked over her shoulder with a devious grin, she said, “When you finish, where do you wanna blow your load? All over my tits or my ass?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not exactly my type,” Longstaff informed her.

  “Not your type?!” Blondie barked in agitation. Turning back around, she brushed her platinum bangs out of her face, smiled at the Cowboy, and then slapped him across the jaw as hard as she could.

  Taking the brunt of it without so much as making a peep, Longstaff maintained his stoic poise. Frank growled lightly off to the side, not liking this situation one little bit.

  “What if I had these fine gentlemen hold you down while I fucked your gorgeous ass anyway?” she growled through gritted teeth. “What do you say to that?”

  The Cowboy gave her his poker face and remained deathly silent. This caused her to grow angrier than before. Her eyes wide with rage, she reached over and snatched up her knife, but before she could do anything Mr. Green, the group’s fearless leader, raised his hand in a gesture for everyone to stop and listen.

  “Mmmmm...that’s wicked!” Mr. Green exclaimed, taking a sip of his drink. Then, flying into a frenzy, he threw the drink at the wall—the glass smashed into a thousand shards and tinkled to the floor. Turning his attention to the Cowboy, he said in a menacing tone, “Hey there friend,” stretching the word out to give it a sense of forced politeness. “I think you’re being a little rude to my family here. You see, we come out of the Dead Lands, and we’re parched. We gots us some drink but we ain’t gots us any food. Seeing as how you have some fresh meat on you, we’d be willing to, ummm…” he paused momentarily, trying to think of the right word to use. “Negotiate a trade.”

  Thrusting her pelvis into the Cowboy’s thigh, the woman started to grind Longstaff’s leg as if she was a bitch in heat. “I really want a taste of your meat. I want it sooo bad,” she said in a sultry voice, as if she were just dying to fuck him.

  Her double-entendre brought a round of snickers to the group.

  “Meat!” Mr. Giggles echoed, then laughed for no apparent reason. Well, no apparent reason aside from the fact that he was certifiably insane.

  “Like I said,” Longstaff reiterated, turning a cold shoulder to the lot of them, “I best be on my way.”

  This time he nudged the girl out of his way with his shoulder. Hard. Blondie fell across the counter and let out a shocked gasp. Just then, the massive fellow, who Longstaff suspected might be a mute, took up position directly in front of him and crossed his arms.

  “Maybe whiskey-dick here is gay?” Mr. Giggles said with a self-gratifying snort. “You a fag, whiskey-dick?”

  Longstaff turned and gave Mr. Giggles the evil eye, which set him off.

  “What?! You wanna piece of me?” Mr. Giggles slapped his chest like a macho gorilla, then fanned his arms as if to say come and get some.

  Raising his hand, Mr. Green silenced his gang. “Look friend, we don’t want any trouble. All we is, is hungry. So if you know what’s best for you, you’ll take the nice lady's offer. It’s not every day you get a taste of a ripe, juicy, pussy like hers.”

  Mr. Green nodded at his diamond studded friend, Mr. Giggles, who jumped up onto the counter and unbuckled his pants. Pulling out his cock, he wagged it in front of the Cowboy’s face and said, “Put it in your mouth, tough guy.”

  Ignoring the prick, Longstaff turned to leave again when the big guy shoved him backward. Caught off guard by the sheer strength of the blow, he stumbled back, and slammed into the Blondie's double D breasts. He bounced back, off balance, and reached down to retrieve his hat, which had fallen off in the commotion. Leaning over and looking back, he saw Blondie squeezing her breasts together and laughing. They all were laughing. It was all one big joke to them. After all, Gordon Longstaff knew, they were merely playing with their food, and he and Frank were what was for dinner.

  Just then the Cowboy felt something wet trickling down onto his head.

  The saloon erupted with the roar of laughter as Mr. Giggles pissed on the Cowboy’s head, a stunt that amused everyone to no end. As the freak shook himself dry, he tucked his dick back into his pants and hopped off the counter, laughing hysterically as if he was amped up on nitrous oxide.

  Mr. Green walked around the counter and came nose to nose with Longstaff. “I’m giving you one last chance, friend. You give my girlfriend, Juno, here what she wants, and then you turn around and walk out of here alive.”

  “And if I refuse?” Longstaff grumbled. Taking a blue and green plaid hanky out of his back pocket he wiped his faced where the piss ran down.

  “One way or the other, we is eatin’ that dog. If you refuse, then I’m afraid we’ll have no choice but to kill you.”

  37

  The Reckoning

  Sacred Ground: Near Mt. Fuji, Japan

  Thunder clapped and the rain poured down. It was cold and miserable. The icy drops stung Kevin’s skin as he raced down the narrow winding roads at breakneck speeds. Suddenly he gripped down on the hand-brake of the motorbike and slowed to a stop. Sitting in the open road, the motor idling with a soft murmur, he raised his face to the sky and let the heavy raindrops roll down his cheeks and off his chin. The coolness felt invigorating. Hopeful it wouldn’t turn to snow before the rainstorm could help extinguish the fires back at the village.

  Kevin pulled out a handkerchief from inside the breast pocket of his leather biker jacket and dried his face as he looked down the road. The skies were growing increasingly dark and soon the night would be upon him.

  Fitting, Kevin thought, that after everything that had happened, after all of the sleepless nights filled with screaming and the gurgle of blood, after all of this and more, the darkness that endlessly pursued him would now become his greatest ally.

  Kicking in the clutch with the heel of his boot, Kevin throttled the gas and spun the back tire, causing it to spit up dirt and gravel. After burning some rubber, the rear wheel found purchase as it bit down on the road. The bike darted forward; its engine growled and Kevin downshifted to keep his speed.

  The green foliage of bamboo intermingled with pine trees. They whisked by on either side of him as he tore down the road. Kevin gave the bike all it had, bringing the needle into the red as he reached maximum speed.

  In pursuit of the bandits, he followed the fresh scattering of cigarette butts that littered the road. He knew he must be getting close since some of them were still smoldering, evidenced by the little wisps of white smoke that still trailed from them. The morons were practically lighting the way for him.

  Won’t they be surprised, he thought, when in the middle of the night Old Nick rolls into their camp and takes his vengeance on them for the unspeakable crimes they had committed? And there was but one punishment—death.

  38

  Showdown in the Old Town

  The Scorched Lands: Las Vegas, Nevada, U.S.A.

  Mr. Green’s posture suddenly went from carefree to vulturine and predacious. His shoulders tightened and his back rounded, like a panther about to pounce. “So what will it be, hombre?” he asked, eyeballing the Cowboy with a crazed look.

  At the same time, Blondie, or rather, Juno, pressed her blade into the small of Longstaff’s back to let him know he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I don’t think you get the full weight of the situation here,” Mr. Green said in an intimidating voice. “We’re gonna take your dog and cook him on a spit, and then we’re gonna eat him. And you’re gonna walk out of here and never look back unless you want the same to happen to you. Comprende, amigo?�
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  Mr. Giggles drew out a custom blade which was carved to look like a velociraptor’s claw, and paced the floor in an agitated manner as he eyeballed Frank and licked his lips.

  “Nobody’s touching my dog,” the Cowboy asserted from behind narrow eyes. The buzz from the booze was already beginning to wear off, and so was his patience.

  “Is that a fact?” Juno asked, adding pressure to the blade and twisting it so it would really dig in.

  “Get me the mutt!” Mr. Green ordered, pointing at where Frank stood.

  Frank looked at the Cowboy then at Mr. Green and stood her ground and growled.

  Mr. Giggles reached down to nab her, but Frank shot between his legs, ran around a bar table, and headed straight toward the big guy. The massiveness of the hulking muscle-freak discouraged Frank and sent her scurrying back toward the Cowboy, but Juno kicked out her foot, which caused Frank to circle wide. As she went around the back of the bar, the poor thing shot right into the waiting arms of Mr. Green.

  “Oh, who’s a good girl?” Mr. Green said petting Frank’s head and scratching playfully behind Frank’s ears.

  “Let the dog be,” Longstaff demanded, glaring at Mr. Green with eyes as cool as gun brushed steel.

  “Or you’ll do what?” Juno laughed. She poked his back with the knife again, hard, and forced him to look back at her psychotic, smiling face. Gazing at him from beneath her blond bangs, she ran her tongue across her white teeth and then winked at him. “Oh, I don’t think he likes us very much,” Juno said in a pouty voice, laughing off his disdain.

  Mr. Giggles pulled out a canister, what appeared to be an aerosol can of some kind, from a holster on his back belt, held it up to his face, and sprayed it directly into his nostrils. Perhaps he was jacking up on laughing gas, Longstaff mused. After inhaling, Mr. Giggles cackled annoyingly like a hyena. “I call the mutt’s thick juicy leg,” he said, then he laughed and put the canister back up to his nose and huffed it again.