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

by Tristan Vick

  Maya blinked, but in that moment she felt a piercing twinge, like a thousand white-hot needles pricking the entire length of her spine, she looked over her shoulder at Saeko, who stood calmly behind her.

  Saeko merely sheathed her sword.

  Ijin Gen’s eyes grew wide with shock as he watched a tiny red dot form at the top of Maya’s head and then, as if invisible hands were drawing, a thread-like line ran down her entire body. He watched as the thread crawled its way down her face to her chin, then slowly down her neck and chest, along her abdomen and all the way down to her groin.

  Frozen with shock, Maya’s eyes grew wide with realization as the awful nature of her demise sunk in. Staring back at Gen, she tried to mouth “I love you,” but suddenly her body separated at the middle and fell in two.

  Split open like a gutted fish, Maya’s body crumpled to the ground in two distinct halves, her internal organs still pulsating with the rhythm of life as though they didn’t realize they were already done for.

  Gen gasped as a sharp kick to the torso sent him flying backward seven or eight feet. Skidding across the observation deck, a spray of water shot up all around him, and once again he found himself teetering on a razor’s edge as he came to the very brink of the platform. Scrambling to get back onto solid ground, he turned just in time to feel the tip of Saeko’s blade as it found his neck. The blade was pressed to his skin, just under his chin, and he had no way to back away from it—not with the empty void directly behind him threatening to swallow him up if he took even one wrong step. Throwing up his hands, Gen pleaded for his life. “Hey, now… let’s just take a deep breath and calm down.”

  Saeko glowered at Ijin Gen with all the hate in the world. Reflecting back all the anger and pain he had caused her, her eyelids lowered with cold, exacting intent to slay the beast standing before her. Slowly, she pressed the blade through his neck, destroying his vocal chords. She pulled it back out just as slowly, so that he would feel every agonizing moment of it.

  Grasping at the gaping wound on his neck, Gen growled at her, but his words turned to gurgles as blood quickly flooded into his throat.

  “My blade,” she began, “is called The Bringer of Pain.”

  Holding his bleeding neck with both hands, Gen glanced down at Maya’s split open body and the massive pool of blood that was being diluted by the downpour.

  Gen realized his hands were shaking from fear and that he was slowly bleeding out. Beginning to feel light headed, Gen clamped his hands tightly around the wound, trying to prevent himself from emptying his life fluids onto the ground. With everything he had left, he let out a furious roar and lunged at Saeko. “Gaaaaagh!”

  Gen took her by her throat and began to squeeze with all his might. And for reasons of her own, she allowed him to do so. This display of passiveness angered him, and he pushed her back and squeezed all the harder.

  At that very moment, a peaceful calm came over Saeko and her mind returned to something Iwasaki sensei, her kendo teacher, had taught her long ago. According to the ancient Samurai code of bushido, he had informed her, the Samurai’s spirit bonded with his blade. In other words, the sword was a living extension of the self. Saeko’s sword was The Bringer of Pain, which meant she was too, and she swore that no matter what, she would make Ijin Gen pay for what he had done to Rachael. For what he had done to old Mr. Tamagawa and his son. Even for what he had done to her father.

  Saeko’s jaw mandibles flexed and twitched with a surge of anger. In an adrenaline-fueled rage, Saeko leaned back and then smashed her forehead into Gen’s face as hard as she could.

  With a thwack so powerful it sounded like the crack of lightening, Gen’s head reeled back and he spouted out, “Gwah!”

  Staggering back, Gen groaned in agony as blood trailed down from his broken nose and pierced neck and painted his upper torso in dark red. Suddenly Gen’s right foot slipped off the edge of the observation platform, reminding him that he was dangerously close to toppling over the ledge. Catching his balance, he regained his footing and looked back at the dark expanse opening up directly behind him. One more step and he’d plunge to his doom.

  Unexpectedly, a deafening screech of metal rang out and the floor shifted underneath their feet. The platform suddenly gave way, and the ground went out from under them as the entire corner piece of the platform fell away and both combatants were tossed into the air and tumbled forward, over the precipice.

  Luckily enough, Gen caught ahold of some jagged piping that poked out from the twisted metal wreckage. Hanging there, he watched as part of the metal grating of the floor he was just standing on whizzed past him into the dark void below.

  Looking back up at his white-knuckle stressed hands, which were slowly losing their grip due to the slippery rain, he saw Saeko holding onto the lip of an I-beam with one arm and, to his dismay, she was still holding fast to her sword with the other.

  Who was this freaking cunt, Gen wondered. Whatever he did to her, whatever obstacle he threw her way, no matter what, she always had that goddamn sword. It was like it was permanently bonded to her. Regardless, Gen refused to go out due to something as trivial as a cut throat. He fought for every breath, even as his severe blood loss began to cause everything to spin around him.

  Shaking off the dizzy spell, Gen stared up at Saeko, who dangled no more than a foot above him. He reached up toward her as if he were asking for her help, but instead he latched onto her foot and tried to pull her down.

  Unamused by his attempt to make her fall, Saeko looked down at him with a smirk and said, “I have a better idea.” With a flash of her blade, in one fell swoop she sliced both of Gen’s hands off at the wrists. With intense loathing in her voice, she hissed through clenched teeth, “How about you fucking die instead, you son of a bitch.”

  Falling away, Gen plummeted silently into the dark void below. His throat was too badly damaged for him to scream, but the fear in his eyes spoke volumes.

  Looking down at the vast emptiness that swallowed up Ijin Gen, Saeko noticed that one of his severed hands held fast to the pipe and the other was still clinging to her ankle. She shook it off and then spat, as if to say, “Good riddance.”

  72

  Between the Devil and the

  Deep Blue Seas

  Alcatraz Island, San Francisco Bay, U.S.A.

  All those gathered at the large banquet table, including the venerable Captain William Young, exchanged nervous glances. The Queen was known for her sudden mood swings, and there was always an uneasy pause after she changed her mind. More often she changed it back—and then it was off with someone’s head. After the gathering was sure she had put it out of her mind, their nervousness abated and they rejoined the festivities.

  Kevin noticed that most of the attendees abused the alcohol quite liberally, but he supposed it was due to the fact that it helped take the edge of a bad situation. After all, their waiters, who were placing appetizers onto the dinner tables and refilling wine glasses, were frickin’ zombies. He noted that the entire dinner party was a farce, and that those unhappy guests were merely putting on their best show. After all, their lives depended on it.

  That wasn’t all Kevin noticed, though. He also observed that Dr. Hemingway was the only one in attendance who didn’t seem at all bothered by the Queen’s peculiar outbursts. It was as though she was accustomed to them. Whereas everyone else utterly dreaded Jennifer Hurley’s chaotic mood swings and random acts of cruelty, Dr. Hemingway seemed, strangely, at peace with it all. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was she knew that nobody else did.

  After a few moments, Jen sighed and then said, “I do believe I issued a command. You there, boy,” she said, addressing Kevin, “Fuck those women before I get bored and kill the whole lot of you.”

  But before Kevin could get past the third button on his shirt, Jen raised her hand and shouted, “Wait!”

  Pointing her finger at both women, who hadn’t moved a muscle since they were still frozen with fear, Jen asked, “W
hat’s the matter? Have I asked too much of my loyal servants?”

  “No your Highness,” the brunette said, diverting her gaze.

  Annoyed by their sudden prudishness, Jen scowled at them and said, “You both made your choices. Don’t forget that it was the both of you who came to me, like a couple of dogs with your tales tucked between your legs, whimpering and licking your wounds, begging me for asylum from the cruel, hungry world—and I gave it to you! Is this the gratitude I get for saving your sorry lives?”

  “No, mistress,” the blonde said apologetically. She knelt down and bowed her head and added, “We meant no disrespect, your highness. It won’t happen again.”

  “I sure hope not,” Jen said, eyeing her subjects suspiciously. “For both your sakes.”

  Kevin looked at the naked models once again, their eyes full of fear and self-loathing, as they stood on full display for all the guests to see. He knew then and there the sort of power Jennifer Hurley had over them. They’d rather be made into sex slaves, suffer unending humiliation and abuse at the hand of their mistress, than take any chances outside of her domain. The fear of dying a terrible and painful death beyond the reach of her protection ensured they stayed loyal to her.

  Backing up ever so slowly, Kevin looked around the unhappy room then turned back toward Jen. “I’m really not in the mood myself. Maybe I’ll take a raincheck. Besides, I’m pretty sure you have better things to do, so I think I’ll politely excuse myself and just get out of everyone’s hair.”

  Kevin cleared his throat.

  Patricia shook her head as if to warn him it was a bad idea, but before he could take three steps back, Jen ordered him to “Stay right there!”

  “And if I refuse?” he asked defiantly.

  “Then this will happen,” Jen replied, snapping her fingers.

  Suddenly three zombies stepped forth from their positions and snatched Captain Young out of his seat. “No! Not like this! Not like this!” he screamed as the monsters dragged him away from the table kicking and screaming. “Not like this!”

  Pinning him down on the ground, the monsters tore away at his clothes and clawed their way through his skin. Ripping him open, they tore out his internal organs, and clutching his intestines in their bloody appendages, they feasted on his entrails. The good captain screamed and howled as the monsters peeled his flesh from his bones and bore their sharp teeth into him, but his screams were in vain—he was already done for.

  After a few seconds of watching the grisly scene, Kevin turned back toward Jennifer Hurley with a look of utter shock. She merely smiled at him dreamily and asked, “Any further questions?”

  “No, your Majesty,” Kevin answered tersely, taking a deep bow. He played it up to make sure she’d be pleased with his effort. As Kevin looked down at the ground. A yellow puddle pooled at the feet of the brunette model, who trembled with fear. Looking up, he watched her cover herself in shame as she urinated all over herself.

  “For God’s sake!” Jennifer cried out, sitting up in her throne chair, squinting her eyes and squinting up her face at the sour stench that filled her nostrils. “Don’t you have any self-control?” Jen looked right at the model who had pissed herself. She glared menacingly at the quaking girl.

  “I’m sorry, High Mistress, I couldn’t help…”

  “You’re pathetic!” Jen snapped, losing all composure. Standing up, she walked over to the model and grabbed the girl by her long, dark hair and pulled her off from the table. Forcing her to face the captive visitors seated at the banquet table, she snarled, “Can’t you see we have dinner guests? Don’t you have any shame?” Indignant, Jen flung the girl to the ground by her hair and growled, “Clean this mess up!”

  The brunette looked confused, and said in a trembling voice, “I beg your pardon, your Highness, but I have no rags to clean this mess with.”

  “Rags? Did I say anything about using rags?”

  “No, you’re Highness,” the woman replied, her voice faltering. “But how will I…?”

  “You have a mouth, don’t you? A tongue, don’t you? Put it to good use and lap it up like the good little bitch you are,” Jennifer barked angrily.

  “As your Majesty wishes,” the brunette answered. Without any further protest she got down onto her hands and knees, and in the most humiliating fashion, began to lap up her own urine while, just behind her, the zombies continued feasting on what remained of Captain Young.

  Satisfied, that she had thoroughly terrified the entire company, Jennifer Hurley sat back down and reclined in her chair. She twiddled her hair with her fingers and said, “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Dinner. Alas, I’m afraid my appetite is all but spoiled by the foul stench.”

  Captain Young’s screaming had finally ceased, and all that was left was the smacking sound of the zombies’ messy eating and the crunching sound of his bones between their teeth.

  Kevin looked back over at the ravaged body that used to be Captain Young. lying motionless on the floor, then at the girl who was forced to lap up her own urine, and then over at the grim faces of everyone else who all sat there petrified, prisoners at the Mad Queen’s never ending nightmare of a mad dinner party.

  73

  Before Everything Faded

  Tokyo Skytree, Main Observation Deck, Japan

  Pulling herself back up onto the main platform, Saeko stood up, sheathed her blade, and ran over to where Rachael lay motionless.

  Saeko dropped to her knees, sending up a small splash from the rain water that pooled near Rachael’s broken body and gently scooped up her head and rested it on her lap. Seeing the bullet hole and Rachael’s lifeless and vacant gaze brought Saeko to tears, and she began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body shivered from the sting of grief and the piercing cold of the rain that poured down all around her.

  Delicately, Saeko closed Rachael’s eyes and wiped away the wetness with her thumb; between her torrential sobs and the ongoing downpour, she wasn’t entirely certain if it was the rain she was clearing away or her own teardrops.

  “I’m so sorry,” Saeko said, her voice faltering in her throat. “So, so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in any of this. This is all my fault. It wasn’t your fight; it was mine. I let you down, and because of my weakness, you’re dead.”

  Despondent, Saeko sat for the longest time, feeling numb. Then, unexpectedly, her mind flashed back to the very first time she had met Rachael Ramirez and to the conversation they shared on the subway train that fateful day.

  Saeko smiled and pulled up her skirt, flashed her skinny legs at Rachael, and whipped out a cigarette. “So what’s your story?” Saeko asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

  “My story?” Rachael echoed.

  “Yeah,” Saeko said. “I’m interested.”

  Rachael looked at Saeko’s eyes and felt a sprite curiosity and youthful exuberance that she knew had been missing in her life for quite some time. The girl seemed genuine in everything she said, so Rachael figured it couldn’t hurt to share the condensed version of her horror filled tale.

  “My son was one of the first in my city to become infected. The day it happened, the day of the outbreak, he disappeared. I searched everywhere for him. I held out hope for as long as I could that I could find him again and that he’d be fine. I kept on telling myself it was all just a bad dream. That I’d wake up. I held onto that thought as long as I could. For the longest time, it was the only thing keeping me going….”

  “Did you ever find him? Your son, I mean.”

  Rachael looked away and stared down the empty corridor of the train and looked into the adjoining car. It was completely vacant. “Yes,” she answered solemnly.

  The pitter patter of raindrops fell all around Saeko as she held fast to Rachael Ramirez’s body and squeezed her with all her might. The occasional interruption from a loud clap of thunder helped to drown out the sound of Saeko’s sobbing. Even though she had gotten her revenge, she felt completely gutted on the inside. The cost of h
er single-minded desire to get retribution had simply been too high.

  In the short while she’d known Rachael, Saeko had come to feel that she wasn’t only her sensei, but, strangely enough, she was a mother figure as well. In the back of her mind, she secretly wished Rachael had really been her mother. How differently would Saeko’s life have turned out if she’d had such a strong role model to look up to? Someone who could have stood up to her abusive father. Someone who could have taught her how to be strong, too. Would Saeko even be the same woman she was today? But all her thoughts were just pale reflections of the love she felt for this relative stranger who, out of the blue, had come into her life and, for that brief moment of time, made her existence a little bit happier.

  Wiping her tears from her cheeks, Saeko bent down and kissed Rachael’s forehead and whispered, “I sincerely wish with all my heart that you are right…that all of this is just some kind of bad dream. A dream that you will wake up from to find everything as it was before.”

  Rachael’s alarm went off at six thirty-five am as usual. Reaching over, she smacked the snooze button and promptly fell back to sleep. Moments later she jolted herself awake and squinted at the clock again. The brightness of white light beaming into her room stung her eyes, and her head throbbed. What’s more, she found herself back in her own bed, in her apartment in Newcastle, with nothing on but her silk nightgown.

  “Dammit,” she mumbled to herself, her voice dry and rough. She rubbed the temples of her forehead, adding, “A little too much wine for you, sweetheart.”

  Just then she sat up in bed with a frightful worry. Her heart raced. What if Hector had called for her in the night and she had been passed out like a veritable Rip Van Winkle?

  Realizing her breasts were visibly hanging out, she wrapped her robe around her and cinched up the sash around her waist as she got up and made her way into the hall. Yawning, Rachael hurried into Hector’s room. Looking down at his Spider-Man bedspread jumbled up at the end of the bed, she gasped at the sight of the empty sheets.