Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance

by Michelle DePaepe

  "Thanks. We're all so hungry, these will be gone in a matter of minutes because nobody will bother to inspect them."

  Hannah beamed as Cheryl carried the tray filled with perfectly round cakes back to the church sanctuary.

  The men were still talking when she returned. Mark was animated, gesturing wildly as he talked. "…we've seen their trucks, their men, and the devices that they implant on the Eater's heads."

  "The Beasts," Jeremiah said. "Once they have that box, the electrical stimulus and chemical injection stalls their decay."

  "What do they use them for?" Aidan asked.

  "Anything they want, I suppose, as long as their bones hold together. I imagine they could do any sort of labor or dirty task that the average human doesn’t want to do."

  As they continued to talk, Cheryl's mind drifted. Human slaves that could be used, abused, and discarded? Had it begun with some lab technician tinkering with animals and chemicals? Maybe he'd gotten the idea years ago from hearing about the serial killer, Jeffrey Dahmer, and how he'd drilled holes in his victim's skulls, injecting hydrochloric acid and boiling water into their brains to see if it would allow him to control them. Perhaps the XCGEN madman had been a member of O.N.E. and shared the results of his experiments with them. Once he had their backing and funding, it could have gone to a whole new level.

  Her mind rejoined the conversation while Mark was speaking.

  "…don't get it. It's transmitted by bites but how did it cross the world so quickly?"

  "That, I don't know." Jeremiah said. "So far, the only constant is the way it appeared simultaneously in major city across the world after the initial outbreak in the Middle East. Somehow, it proliferated that quickly without being transferred by individual bites."

  "Airborne virus? Bacteria? Something in the food or water supply?"

  Jeremiah frowned, shaking his head. "I've never discovered a single consistent factor in the transmission, but I know that O.N.E. and their labs were responsible for the start of the outbreak." As if he was tired of talking about the subject, he stood up and sighed as he rubbed his palms down his jeans like he was wiping off the muck of his words.

  "But what about—"

  Jeremiah addressed the entire group, instead of him. "Seriously…I'm telling you all not to go north. From what I've heard, O.N.E. has been congregating in larger numbers where its cooler, where the infected decay at a slower rate. If they capture you, you're either going to join them, serve them, or become food for their minions."

  There was a crash in the kitchen, sounding like a glass shattering on the floor.

  "Excuse me," he said, rushing off to see if Hannah was okay.

  "What do you think?" Cheryl asked all of them in a low voice. "His warning was scary, ominous even. If everything he said is true and this group is so big…"

  "Hogwash," Zach said. "I don't think we know anything about who they are. Maybe Jeremiah's just got a grudge against them, and they aren't as bad as he says."

  Some of the group grumbled in agreement and others weren't sure they wanted to go north after what Jeremiah told them.

  "Whatever direction we go…I do admit we'd have a greater chance of survival if we stick together." Mark turned towards Aidan, extending the proverbial olive branch to him and his men. "You could come with us. Jake knows a group in Provo who will take us in. Says they're Mormons, and they were preparing for an apocalypse for years. He says they've got plenty of food, lots of arms…"

  After hesitating for several seconds while there were murmurs amongst his men, Aidan shrugged. "Where the hell else do we have to go?"

  Cheryl was surprised. "What about your plans for a cabin?"

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. "I did…but maybe that's down the line…once I find a place that looks secure enough to put down some roots and easily defend."

  He'd already told her he'd found such a place. Maybe he wanted to stick with her, because he just couldn't bear the thought of letting her go and never seeing her again. She hoped it wasn't true. It would put a lot of weight on her shoulders to know that he was dragging his entire group along with hers because of some lingering feelings for her. It was true that she didn’t want to say goodbye to him either, but Deanna wasn't going to allow them much time to spend together, because she was always lingering in his shadow, draped over him like an octopus with suction cups.

  After Aidan accepted Mark's offer, Mark went outside to discuss it with Jake and the other guys who were guarding the bikes. Meanwhile, Jeremiah and Hannah offered the group some blankets and pillows, so they could try to make themselves comfortable enough to get a little rest on the wooden pews.

  As exhausted as they were, some of the guys didn't want to go to sleep, because they still didn't trust their hosts. The last thing Cheryl heard before she drifted off to sleep was Zach muttering one line of skepticism after another. "I believe some of it, but I'm not sure about them being spared by divine providence…"

  Chapter 15

  Morning came. Cheryl woke up to dazzling jewel toned colors shining through a stained glass window on the eastern wall, depicting a scene with St. Francis of Assisi preaching to a flock of birds.

  She sat up and looked around the sleeping forms stretched out on the pews. Mark had come inside during the night. He was lying down a couple pews behind her, snoring in deep, throaty stretches.

  They were still alive.

  And it didn't look like there had been any subterfuge while they were sleeping. Their guns were by their sides and their meager belongings still filled their backpacks and satchels.

  Since they had a peaceful evening, it seemed they had truly come to a safe, if temporary refuge. Jeremiah and his wife didn't seem to have any ill intention towards them, despite whatever past entanglements he'd had with O.N.E.

  So, what was the source of her uneasiness then?

  She couldn't shake the premonition that this was an awkward lull in the storm before something terrible was going to happen.

  Careful not to bump into anyone, she rose to her feet and made her way to the restroom down the hallway that led to the room where she supposed Jeremiah and Hannah slept. After relieving herself and freshening up with water from a two-gallon jug with a pump handle, she stepped back into the hallway.

  Hannah was there waiting for her.

  "Cheryl, don't go. Please. If you go north, you're headed straight into the devil's den."

  She hesitated, wishing to alleviate the pain in Hannah's eyes. "I have to. My fiancé's friend— Jake—he knows a group in Utah that'll take us in. We don't have anywhere else to go."

  "You could stay here. If we could change the group's mind about letting in more folks, we could find a family to take you in or build some sort of extension here to give you a private space."

  "Mark is going. I can't let him go without me."

  "Maybe you could convince him?"

  "He's already made up his mind. It wouldn't do any good to try."

  Hannah's face fell. Her eyes began to tear up, and her next words were choked out. "Even…even if it…it wasn't for O.N.E….you know it'd be a longshot to make it all the way up to Provo."

  Cheryl smiled. She took Hannah's thin, cool hands into her own. "Of course. Isn't everything a longshot nowadays?"

  Hannah's lip began to quiver, the shower of tears still threatening to burst forth.

  "Thank you for your concern, Hannah…really." She squeezed the woman's hands. "But, if I made it down to Arizona all the way from Colorado, I'm not afraid to go another couple hundred miles."

  "Then, I'll pray for you," Hannah said. "We both will..."

  After they parted hands, Cheryl started back towards the sanctuary.

  "Wait…I have something for you." Hannah said, reaching into the pocket on her apron. She pulled out a necklace with a large silver and turquoise cross pendant over two inches long.

  Cheryl gawked at the object, thinking that it would be a fine thing to take on the road if they were on the looko
ut for vampires, but thought it would do her little good against the ghouls.

  "Take it. Please."

  With some reluctance, she walked back, took it in her hand, and began to finger the ornate metal. It was pretty, if a bit ostentatious for her taste. "Thank you," she said before starting to shove it into the side pocket of her jeans.

  "Oh no…you've got to wear it...keep it close to your heart. It does a whole lot more good if you keep it where you can reflect on it from time to time and pray for protection."

  Feeling sheepish, Cheryl pulled it back out and slipped it over her head.

  "There," Hannah said. "That's nice. Jessica would be happy to see you with it on."

  "Jessica?"

  "My daughter. She used to wear it every day. I couldn't bear to bury her with it, because when she got sick, she begged me to pass it on."

  "Oh…" A dead woman's cross. That didn't make her feel any better about taking it. "I'm going to check on the guys," she said, excusing herself.

  Mark was no longer in the pew. She went outside to look for him and found him drinking a cup of water as he talked with Aidan and Jake. He nodded to her has she approached.

  "We're not ready to go yet. One of the bikes has a problem. Diego borrowed some tools from Jeremiah and he's tinkering with it."

  There were worried looks on some of their faces. No one said it out loud, but there were obvious concerns about what they would do if they were in the middle of nowhere or in a bad situation and there were breakdowns. There were a few empty rear passenger seats, but it might turn into a deadly game of musical chairs if the motorcycles started failing. Would they have to duke it out? Draw lots?

  "What about finding a car?" she asked.

  Diego paused from twisting his wrench and looked up at her. "You're not as blonde as you look, amiga."

  "Should I take that as a complement?"

  He went back to his work without responding.

  Aidan glared at Diego then looked back to her, apologizing for his friend's rudeness with his expression. "It's not a bad idea, if we can find something that runs well and has a full tank. One of my guys asked Jeremiah if he would trade a bike for his pickup over there." He pointed to an old Chevy on the far side of the building. "But, he said the engine block is cracked, so it's not going anywhere. We'll just have to keep our eyes out for something."

  After hanging out for a while, she tired of watching the guys work and chat about things like throttles, fork gaiters, and carburetors, so she went back inside.

  Everyone was stirring now and packing up their things. She heard dishes clinking and went to the kitchen to see if Hannah needed any help.

  "I guess we're not going to be ready to leave for a little while yet. They're doing some mechanical work on the motorcycles. Can I help you with anything while I'm waiting?"

  "Not really," Hannah said, a bit coldly as she continued to put some plates in the cupboard above her head.

  Cheryl wasn't sure what to make of her tone.

  "Did they tell you?" Hannah asked without pausing from her task.

  "Who? Tell me what?"

  "Ben and Chip…they decided to stay. Jeremiah told them he could use a couple of hands to help out on the farm. He also told them he might be able to borrow a car from one of the families and head back up to the mountains to find Jasmine and Patrick, so they can have a proper burial."

  "That's kind of him to offer," Cheryl said, not missing the insinuation that those two young men had the common sense to stay put instead of venturing into the unknown up north. She stood there for a moment, watching the woman work.

  When Hannah finished with the plates and started drying a cup with a dish towel, it triggered Cheryl's memory of the sound of broken glass the night before. "Did you lose a glass yesterday?" She laughed it out in an attempt to make the question sound lighthearted, instead of accusatory.

  "Yeah…my mind wanders sometimes. It forgets what my hands are doing, and I drop things. I was thinking about the things I wanted Jeremiah to tell you before you go when I lost my grip."

  "What kind of things?"

  "Just the basics," Hannah said, handing her a dry dish towel and a platter. "Like…don't trust anyone. Not all the people on board with O.N.E. are going to be wearing badges or driving white trucks. They're devious. So, don't put your faith in anyone you meet along your route. We were an exception to that rule, obviously. However, not everyone that might offer to take you in will have good intentions."

  "Thanks for the advice. We'll keep our guard up."

  "Some folks like to think that we're all a fountain of goodness inside, but deep down we're all sinners, and troubled times can bring out the dark side of people."

  Cheryl mulled that over, wishing it wasn't so, but knowing that it rang of truth.

  Hannah put her towel on the counter and wiped her hands on her apron. "Well…since you're not leaving yet…I need to harvest some vegetables out back. Why don’t you come and see if there's anything you want to take with you."

  "Thank you," Cheryl said, not daring to turn down the offer. She followed Hannah down a side hall towards a back door. When they stepped out into the sunshine, her jaw dropped when she saw the "garden". As Jeremiah had explained, the plot wasn't miniscule; it was filled with rows and rows of vegetables like lettuce, kale, green onions, young pea plants, beets, and spinach—a small farm that put Fort San Manuel's meager courtyard garden to shame.

  There was only one thing that unnerved her about the sight. It was the scarecrows. Seeing the straw-stuffed bodies with faces made out of painted flour sacks, mounted on wooden crosses, she had a flashback to the grotesque corpses used as lures at the fort's baiting stations. Even though these figures were just as lifeless, seeing them made her want to keep her trigger finger on her gun.

  "You see those hills over there?" Hannah pointed to a section on the far right side. "It's the Three Sisters."

  "Corn, squash, and beans. The Native Americans always planted them together."

  Hannah gave her a smile. "I took you for a city girl. How did you know that?"

  "I used to help out in the garden at Fort San Manuel."

  There was an awkward pause, as it seemed that admission gave Hannah another reason to be unhappy about her leaving. Again, Cheryl tried some humor. "Your scarecrows are a bit freaky."

  "Yes. I suppose. They help, though. Keeps some of the birds out of the strawberry patch in early summer and then away from the corn later on. Unfortunately, not all of them are deterred. It's a constant battle."

  "What about the Eaters?" Cheryl asked, noting that the crops were too short now to hide anyone lurking between them, but come late summer, it would be unnerving to be out there amongst the tall rows of corn where anything might see you before you saw it. "How do you keep them—"

  "Keep it all from being trampled by the undead? We're blessed, I guess. None of them who come through here pay the healthy crops any mind. Oh…they might scarf down a rotten pumpkin or smashed tomato on the ground, but only once it's so moldy and gross that I don't want to touch it anyway. It's a help, actually, when they save me work like that. And our neighbors…they don't steal anything. We offer them some seeds for their own gardens and some of our produce, and they tithe back with whatever supplies they can give us."

  "I wish we had something to give you for all of your kindness," Cheryl told her.

  "Don’t worry about it, dear. It's a blessing to be able to help you out. Now…let's see…this early in the season, there's plenty of…" She gasped as another idea hit her. "You know what ya'll should take with you? There's a patch of radishes out yonder. They'd make good snacks on the road." She pointed to a raised bed made out of thick timbers where leafy greens and the tops of fat, red globes stuck out of the soil.

  Cheryl didn't love radishes, but she thanked Hannah for the offer, knowing that she'd be hungry enough to eat them at some point.

  After pulling up several bunches of the roots and cleaning them, she noticed some pots of t
omato plants leaning against the back of the building and offered to help Hannah transplant. It was dirty work, scooping out a trench of soil with a trowel then laying the plants on their side and burying them up to their tops, so they could root along the stem.

  When they were finished, their hands were caked with grime. They splashed water from a gallon jug and rubbed their hands together, but couldn't get all the dirt off their palms or out from underneath their fingernails.

  Hannah produced a rag and some homemade yucca root soap. "Soil's mucky. We had a good rain shower a couple nights ago."

  While they scrubbed, a pair of ravens sat on the fence watching them, occasionally letting out a throaty caw that warbled like their beaks were full of gravel.

  "Dang birds," Hannah said. "Let your guard down, and they'll steal a tomato right from your hand. Some days I have to sit out here with a shotgun to keep them out of the strawberries."

  Cheryl took off her engagement ring and set it on the bench so she could wash underneath it. Without any warning, one of the ravens took flight, swooped down and grabbed the ring then took off across the road.

  "Son of a—" she yelled as she started to run after it.

  "Don't!"

  Fixated on getting the ring back, she ignored whatever warning Hannah called after her. She ran, hopping over a coiled hose, a couple of buckets, and even a wheelbarrow as she chased the bird, watching it soar then descend into a clump of creosote bushes in full bloom with a dazzling array of yellow flowers.

  She darted across the road, feeling like she was on a fool's errand, but unable to stop herself. Hannah's screams called after her, but she didn't bother to look back. If she didn't get the ring back within the next couple of seconds, the bird could take off again with it still clutched in its claws and it would be lost forever.

  When she reached the bush where the bird was perched, it screeched at her in a loud, parrot like squawk as if warning her to stay away.

  "Drop it!" she yelled, hoping to startle it into obeying her.

  To her amazement, it worked. The bird burst into the air, flapping away with its wide, black wings, and she heard a CLINK as it dropped its treasure, the ring landing on something hard at the base of the bush.