Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance

by Michelle DePaepe

  She walked back towards Mark, though it didn't feel like walking. It felt more like she was slinking on her belly, like a snake.

  "I know him."

  "Obviously." He stared down at her with his arms crossed.

  "It's Aidan, the guy I told you about. The one I rode down with from Colorado."

  Mark kept his arms crossed. He was glaring now, glancing from her to Aidan and back. His eyes were cold. Instead of crystal blue, they looked steely gray and guarded.

  "If it wasn't for him, I'd never have made it. You know that, right?"

  He didn’t answer.

  Jake kept his gun raised toward the opposing group. "Who are you?"

  Earl puffed up like a Chihuahua fronting for a pack of pit bulls. "We're the Vultures, man. Somebody you don't want to mess with!"

  That declaration was met with chuckles from the men in Cheryl's group.

  Diego, the man who'd originally greeted them asked, "Who the hell are you?"

  "Just some evacuees from Fort San Manuel," Jake replied. "We're looking for a place to stay and re-supply before we head north."

  "We got nothing for you," Earl said. "You better turn around and—"

  Aidan, who was obviously the leader of this crew, threw up his hand to reign in his troops. "Cool it, guys. We're out here because we're refugees. They are too. Give 'em a chance to talk."

  With the tensions dropped down one small notch, Jake lowered his gun. "Look…we need a place to camp for a couple of days, just to get our bearings and get a plan together. If you can help us out, we promise we'll be on our way after that."

  "What are you doing?" Mark whispered.

  "Let's not assume the worst. Maybe they've got a camp, food…"

  "Why'd you leave the fort?" Aidan asked.

  "We had to evacuate. It was overrun by N.E.U.s."

  Diego shouted, "What the hell's an N.E.U.?"

  One of the guys in Cheryl's group yelled from behind her, "Necrophagous Eating Unit."

  He burst into a chuckle, laughing so hard that he could barely stay upright. "You mean a fuckin' Eater? Sounds like some fancy military shtick!"

  Hands tightened on guns.

  "Diego…" Aidan warned.

  One of his men asked, "Any of you infected?"

  "No," Jake said. "We're all clean. What about you?"

  "We had to put someone down two days ago who was bitten, but everyone else is fine."

  Both groups looked each other over. Cheryl wondered if the two packs were going to end up sniffing each other's butts before deciding they could dispense with a fight.

  Aidan focused his gaze directly on her. Then, he glared at Mark. "So he's your main squeeze?"

  Cheryl quickly guessed a reason for some of the sarcasm in his voice. Mark was still in the slacks he'd put on last night before the attack and didn't have on a uniform like some of the others from the chopper, but his sharp, fresh buzz cut screamed military. She'd forgotten how much Aidan disdained anyone who had anything to do with the armed forces. It had something to do with his dishonorable discharge—a story he'd never discussed with her.

  The tone in Aidan's voice wasn't lost on Mark. He took a threatening step forward.

  Cheryl stepped between them, holding her hands out to maintain their distance apart, which was several yards, but in the red zone of danger. "Mark is my fiancé. Remember? I told you about him."

  "Yeah, I remember," Aidan said, shaking a wisp of hair out of his eyes. "You said he was dead."

  "I was wrong. He survived. I found him at the fort."

  Aidan tilted his head and raised the tip of his gun, pointing it towards Mark. "You also said he was infected."

  "He got the vaccine in time. He's okay now."

  "Never did trust that vaccine," Aidan said, staring at the scars on Mark's cheeks and hands. "I've always wondered if this virus is like the chickenpox. It could lay dormant in you for years then BLAM! pop up just like the shingles."

  Mark stepped forward, continuing until he was within just a few feet of Aidan. He towered over him by a couple of inches. "I don't know what your problem is buddy, but if I was infected…you'd be the first bastard I'd eat."

  Before Jake or Cheryl could play referee, Diego, raised his gun, aiming at them and growling, "None of you are from O.N.E?"

  "We don't even know who the hell that is," Zach replied.

  "Well…my friend." Diego spat on the ground. "You got a whole lot of learning to do."

  "All right," Jake said. If this O.N.E. group is so dangerous, it's probably not a good idea to be hanging out here in the middle of the road spitting at each other."

  "He's right," Aidan agreed. "We need to stay out of sight. It's risky to be in the open for long."

  "We'd be much obliged if you can help us out, at least for a night," Jake said.

  Aidan paused, seeming to consider the request.

  "Just for a night?" Cheryl pleaded. "Then, if you want…we'll go. I promise."

  "Diego…" Aidan signaled the man to join him, and the two of them withdrew behind the rest of their group to confer in private.

  "We don't need them," Mark said to Jake.

  "Not at the moment, but we only have enough food to last a couple of days. And, I don't know about you, but I haven't seen a Hilton or a Holiday Inn anywhere around here. We're going to need some shelter and a whole lot of help if any of that horde from the fort heads this way."

  "I'm not sure we'd be better off hanging out with a bunch of rednecks and yahoos."

  Patrick jumped in. "You're both crazy if you think I'm going anywhere with them. They tried to kill me!"

  "They didn't know who you were," Cheryl said, shaking her head. "Aidan's a good man. I trust him. He's not going to turn on us."

  "Yeah? What about the rest of them?" Mark asked.

  At that, she shrugged. She didn't know anything about the character of the rest of the gang. "It's been half a year since I met some of them. All I can tell you is…they're still alive. They've been surviving out here all that time. At least they know how to take care of themselves…and we're safer in numbers."

  "Not if their stink draws N.E.U.s down on us," Zach chimed in "I can smell their funk from here."

  Jake tried to instill some reason over the bad vibes. "If any of you would rather go it alone, be my guest. As for me, I'd rather take my chances with this gang then wander in the wilderness much longer, just waiting until death finds us."

  There were murmurs all around until Aidan and Diego returned a few minutes later.

  "Okay," Aidan said. "We could use some more guards at our camp tonight. There were close to twenty Eaters looking to make a meal out of us last night. We've got guns, but we're low on ammo. So, it's hard to turn away additional firepower. But…I'm warning you right now…any one of you does something stupid, we won't hesitate to take you all down. Got it?"

  Jake held his hand out to Aidan. "We're cool. You've got my word."

  The men shook, but there was more banter, and a bit more posturing between some of the men before the majority on both sides formally agreed that they'd concede to joining forces.

  "Wait!" Zach said, facing their group. "I'm not going anywhere yet. If Patrick says they tied him up and left him for Eater bait, why should we trust them?"

  "That little rat?" Diego said, overhearing him. He pointed at Patrick. "He snuck up on us last night. Wouldn't tell us anything. We figured he was a scout for O.N.E. If it had been up to me, we would have killed him."

  Patrick stood with his fists balled, literally vibrating with anger, unable to speak.

  "It was a mistake," Aidan assured them. "We couldn't possibly have known who he was. You have to understand we were just trying to protect ourselves."

  Jake walked over to Patrick and motioned for Zach to join them.

  A few seconds later, they returned.

  "Patrick wants an apology," Jake said.

  "Fine," Aidan replied. "I'm—"

  "Not from you." Jake pointed to Diego. "Fr
om him."

  "Oh…Dios mio!"

  "Do it," Aidan told him.

  "Alright, you little shit. I'm sorry."

  Patrick didn't respond.

  "I'm sorry; I said." Diego extended his hand, but Patrick remained stiff with his arms folded.

  "Aye yay!" Diego walked away.

  "Okay," Aidan said. "There's one more thing….before we take you to our camp…we need some proof that you're all clean. We want to see your skin."

  After a moment of shock, Jake, Mark, Ben, Chip, Jordan, and Patrick huddled together and whispered while Kai, Edmond, Zach, Jasmine and Cheryl stood where they were. Cheryl could only hear bits of the heated conversation.

  "No way in hell I'm gonna…"

  "They've got food and water."

  "…if they put a gun to my head…"

  After another minute, the group broke apart, still grumbling.

  "We'll take turns," Jake said, "and we'll only remove our shirts."

  "Alright," Aidan nodded.

  Nobody moved to go first.

  Finally, Zach stepped up. "I'll show you some skin!" Standing in front of the motorcycle lights, he ripped off his tank top, exposing his chiseled chest and flexing his pecs like a peacock.

  "We don't have to do this," Ben and Chip pleaded together. "We don't need them."

  Jake stood his ground. "Yes, we do. There's safety in numbers. If we combine our firepower and their motorcycles, we're stronger."

  "Do it," Mark added. "But keep your gun within reach."

  With much reluctance, the rest of the men in Cheryl's took turns whipping off their shirts.

  "What about them?" Diego asked, pointing to Cheryl and Jasmine with a smirk.

  Aidan shook his head. "If Cheryl says she isn't sick, I believe her."

  "That's fine for you," Diego whined. "But I'm not risking my—"

  "She's excepted."

  "Well…what about her?" Diego pointed at Jasmine.

  "She all right?" Aidan asked Cheryl.

  "As far as I know. She escaped on the helicopter with us."

  "Take her in the brush and check her out."

  Cheryl apologized to Jasmine with a glance then motioned for her to follow her away from the group. Once they were well out of the eyesight of the others, she asked her to take off her shirt.

  Jasmine refused.

  "Okay. I know this is weird. Just roll up your sleeves then."

  She complied and Cheryl gave her forearms a thorough inspection, finding nothing but white, unmarred skin with a few random freckles and moles.

  They returned to the group, watching the guys endure a physical inspection from Aidan's men.

  While the banter continued, Cheryl stared at the new bike Aidan had acquired. It was a Harley-Davidson with tall handlebars and a black and white Jolly Roger flying on a thin pole from its rear. It looked surprisingly similar to the flag that had been flying over Black Todd's, except the skull had been altered with white spray paint to look more like the skull of a bird.

  Some of the guys had the image spray painted on the back of their jackets and vests too.

  Vultures.

  It seemed a little silly, but she figured the name suited them, given that they probably had to scavenge for whatever survival supplies they could find.

  She walked over to Aidan, asking quietly, "How'd you end up with this group?"

  "A few days after I left the fort, I saw motorcycle tracks on a dirt road and followed them. I found them camping in the open, mostly people that escaped from the bar. They were all half dead and nearly starved, but they were lucid enough to almost shoot my head off. Once they recognized me, they stopped firing. I led them to a creek bed nearby that had water, and they agreed to let me stay. We've come a long way since then. We've been hunting and foraging in empty cabins around here. We've got a camp set up now. A mighty fine one, actually. It's got good shelter and a water source. Hell, it's got everything but Hi-Def T.V. and Wi-Fi!"

  Cheryl didn't ask why they didn't just squat in one of the cabins. She knew from experience that it was sometimes better to be out in the open where you had all directions to run, instead of potentially being trapped inside a building.

  When the skin inspection was over, Aidan raised his voice so everyone could hear. "Our camp is about four miles from here. We'll go slowly and you can follow on foot. Keep up, though, 'cause if another truck comes through, we'll have to get out of sight quick. We saw a couple of O.N.E. trucks come through here earlier this morning."

  "O.N.E…." Cheryl said. "Who are they?"

  Aidan took a deep breath and blew it out. "All I know is they're organized and armed. They've been patrolling this area, rounding up anyone they find. There were two men and a woman in our group out hunting a few days ago. They never came back, and we're pretty sure they were killed or taken by them."

  "Do you know where they are? You've got firepower. Why don't you just go in and—"

  "All their trucks head northwest towards Phoenix. We've considered heading that way, but—"

  Mark jumped in. "You'd be stupid to think you could you just go into the midst of them waving guns and making demands." He was speaking to her, but issuing his warning to Aidan. "This isn't just some new duct-taped paramilitary group."

  Cheryl was dumbfounded. Mark knew so much more than he was telling her. Why? He'd told her his theories about how the epidemic started, but if he knew there was a group who had the motive to start it, why hadn't he shared that part with her?

  Seeming to read her mind again, he said, "When I found a connection from the lab that bred those dogs, and this group, O.N.E., whose agenda is so bizarre…so out there…I didn't believe it myself. I couldn't even talk about it with you. Then, after talking to Jake, I found out he…"

  He trailed off as Earl came running up. "One of our scouts says there's trucks headed this way. We gotta blow!"

  Aidan signaled the rest of the Vultures with a hand in the air, circling it around to give them the signal to move. As they mounted their motorcycles, Cheryl and the rest of her group gathered together, throwing their packs over their shoulders and preparing for a jog instead of a leisurely walk.

  After Aidan's bike rumbled to life, the blonde with three-inch black roots and a mess of tattoos down her arms swung her legs onto the back and wrapped her hands around his waist.

  She was Aidan's girlfriend now?

  He could do better.

  Her take on the chic was that she looked like trailer trash, someone who was rarely sober and whose only talents involved horizontal positions. She was nothing like Aidan. Though Cheryl knew he was more than a little rough around the edges, he was a master carpenter, a smart, deep-hearted man who had once endured finding his girlfriend and her kid murdered by Eaters—a man who had taken Cheryl and a couple of strangers under his wings during the outset of the epidemic—an all-around good guy.

  It was a shock to realize that she was jealous.

  A minute later, they followed the group on foot, pacing themselves at a fast trot. Thankfully, they were going downhill instead of up. After a couple of miles, she focused on the scenery to take her focus off her heavy-working lungs and the stitch in her side. The temperature had warmed a couple of degrees, increasing the sweat trickling down underneath her arms as she ran. And, the flora had begun to change. Instead of the piney forest, the area was becoming more desert-like again. They passed waist-high Octopus Agave plants and colorful manzanita with reddish bark, waving them on from the roadsides as a hot breeze urged their limbs into motion.

  Though, no one spoke as they jogged behind the motorcycles, she could sense the growing uneasiness in her companions. It was hard not to feel like they were prisoners on a forced hike to some unknown destination. That feeling of apprehension increased as the trek grew more treacherous. There were sections of the road that had been washed out by torrential spring rains, forcing the bikers to dismount and navigate around boulders and deep trenches, and there were areas that were minefields of bones a
nd bits of offal strewn about like road kill, a sign that plenty of Eaters had been roaming in the area.

  Cheryl began to doubt Aidan for the first time. They were headed towards refuge? It seemed more like they were headed down towards hell.

  Chapter 11

  Fifteen minutes later, the riders came to a stop and killed the engines on their bikes. They began to wheel them off the road into the dense scrub. Cheryl and most of the rest doubled over, catching their breath. Then, hearing the sound of truck engines in the distance, they hurried after Aidan's group.

  It was a rocky hike for another quarter mile until they reached the Vulture's camp. Cleverly camouflaged, she didn't see it until they were just a few yards away. It was obvious that Aidan had exaggerated its luxuries, but it was still impressive. If rats were human-sized, and their leader was the resourceful MacGyver, this would be their hideout.

  The center of the camp was composed of a ring of nylon tents and teepees made of a combination of animal skins, scraps of clothing, and blankets. They were covered with woven branches, making them nearly invisible from a distance. These dwellings appeared to serve just as daytime hangouts, providing shaded living space, because in the trees at intervals every few feet, there were more solid structures roughly six feet long with side bumpers that looked like bunks. A network of slats connected them, creating a walkway all the way around the perimeter of the camp. It was easy to see that the purpose of the structures was to provide refuge where they'd be safe from an ambush. Right now, there were a few men perched up there with rifles working as guards.

  She continued to marvel at the design of the camp. Even the very perimeter was a study in ingenuity. There was a network of cording tied between the branches of trees and shrubs that circled the main area in looped tangles like a giant Indian dream catcher. She supposed its function was also to catch nightmares…of a sort. Pairs of tin cans hung in various places on it, an early warning system that was primitive but probably effective.

  Once the motorcycles were parked underneath an immense lean-to nearby and covered with branches, they followed Aidan and his group through a disguised opening in the cording.