Blood Soaked and Invaded - 02

by James Crawford

  I moved as fast as I could, bringing the blade down where it was rolling in Scott’s blood and all I hit was wet grass. It had moved and was already 15 feet away, hissing at me like an angry cat.

  All I got was a glimpse of its position, as blood fell on my face and obscured my vision. When I wiped my eyes, it was gone. Scott had fallen to the ground, and I changed my priorities. I could deal with it in a minute.

  My dear friend was dying in the grass, and I couldn’t have done anything. The hole in his leg was the size of my fist, and the blood flow had already gone from gouts to short spurts.

  I dropped my sword, and pulled him into my arms. He was shivering and pale.

  “Thank you,” he said to me.

  “I tried, Scott. I’m sorry.”

  “I know.”

  I could feel him fading in the blood-soaked grass of his own home.

  “I promise, I’ll finish it. I promise!” I was weeping down into his face, and he smiled a little.

  “I know,” he said, looking up at me with rapidly dimming light in his eyes, “my brother.”

  He called me “brother” with his last conscious breath. He died seconds after that.

  I wailed like a lost soul, and I heard it wail, too. It was out there, and not far away. I didn’t care; I’d find it soon enough, and it would be weaker. First, there were things I needed to attend to.

  I put both bodies in the forge. Before I did what had to be done, I did what I needed to do. It didn’t matter that it was dark outside. There was enough moonlight for my eyes to adjust, and Scott was nothing if not organized. I’d known a smith or two who had shops that were eclectic and scattered, even downright impassable, but my “brother” wasn’t that type of guy.

  Our economy, such as it was, worked on trade and barter. Scott’s barn contained far too much in the way of irreplaceable tools to let them go to waste or be looted by people who wouldn’t appreciate what they had.

  His old carpetbag was in the same place he always kept it, and I filled it with every hand tool I could find. Blacksmith-style hammers. Tongs. Even strange pliers I knew Scott had made for himself to do certain things no supplier had ever considered making a tool for.

  The thought came to me that there probably wouldn’t be all that much blade-quality steel in the world anymore, all things considered. With that in mind, I grabbed some of the bars from his stockpile, thankful that he’d marked them by type, and dropped them in the bag.

  My breath caught somewhere in my chest. The rest of the bar my Man Scythe blade had come from was on his workbench, clearly labeled in his block capital handwriting. There was maybe a foot of the bar left, and there was no way in Heaven or in Hell I would leave that for looters. It was a work of metallurgical genius that might never be seen again.

  That bar of steel and my Man Scythe would never leave my side. I vowed it then and there. If for some reason I had a child some day, I’d pass them both on. Somehow, I didn’t think it to be a likely outcome of my lifestyle, so I’ve amended it to include an apprentice Zombie Executioner inheriting my tools.

  I heard wet noises right about then, and I knew I had to turn around and finish the job. The undead fruit of my friends’ loins was in the shop with me, noisily licking her father’s body. I had to kill her, it, but what I really wanted to do was throw up and cry my eyes out until dawn.

  Rage and visceral disgust were the main things I used to keep myself going as a Zombie Exterminator/Executioner. Those feelings allowed me to put aside the horror of what I was doing, keep a brave face, and keep going. I have never been the sort of man who smiles, does awful things, and goes home to rhapsodize about creating a “Better Day for Everyone.”

  The better day never comes.

  My heart was bare that night in Scott’s shop, just Leah and me. I couldn’t stop thinking of her as Leah, when I knew Leah wasn’t what had been born two days before. Leah never had the chance to live, grow up, discover love, be even prettier than her Mom, or be an artist who eclipsed her own Dad’s work. I had to turn around, with nothing but my bare hands, and kill that abomination a second time.

  “Ueeeh,” it wailed and I nearly pissed myself. Something about that noise sent chills through me so much deeper than anything I’d ever heard. I turned around with my heart in my throat.

  It–I had to remind myself to refer to it as “it”–was looking at me with eyes that didn’t want to track properly. Blood covered it from head to toe, and I noticed for the first time that it had teeth. Newborn human babies don’t have teeth. They also aren’t able to raise their heads, or attack like a cross between a Yorkie and a piranha. It wailed again, and hissed at me.

  What else could I do but lunge for it?

  Coagulated blood does not make a good gripping surface. The abomination squirted out of my hands like a slightly tacky football, and I landed on my best friend’s body. His vile progeny shrieked at me from beyond the workshop doors and loped into the night.

  I chanted my old anime mantra, “Must. Keep. Calm,” and lifted myself off of Scott’s corpse. It almost worked. Almost. I lost my shit entirely when I stepped on Mara’s head.

  My vomit arced in a graceful curve into the back of the shop, but the tears came down all over my face. I backed up against the workbench, and allowed myself the luxury of weeping like a lost child. When I was done I went through Scott’s pockets and found his house keys. I walked over to the house and locked up.

  I still don’t know why I did that. My brain was stuck in neutral and I was working with an autopilot program I don’t remember having set the parameters for.

  Once I got back to the workshop, I grabbed a propane torch from the workbench, and set the building on fire. It needed to burn. Then I pulled myself together as much as I possibly could, and started looking for that pasty monstrosity in the light of the flames.

  It avoided my search, and my time was limited, not knowing when or if EMS would arrive. I knew I had to haul ass, or find myself in a very uncomfortable position. I vowed that I would find... Leah... and put her to rest, but I’d have to come back another day in order to do that.

  I grabbed the bag of trade goods, and lugged it to the garage.

  They’d kept their minivan filled with gas and in running condition. Scott was not an idiot, or ever unprepared. I hated myself for taking advantage of his forethought, and cursed myself as I took the back seats out of the car, put my bike and the bag into the cavernous space, and then slammed the hatch shut.

  By the time I got back to the bar I couldn’t climb up to the roof. My leg hurt too badly and I was exhausted. I slept in the front seat of the minivan, with the Man Scythe and the katana beside me. The dreams were terror incarnate.

  Three days later I went back. The shop and the house had burned to the ground, which argued that the fire department had never arrived. Not surprising in the ongoing Zombie Apocalypse World, I guess. I snarled a little bit to myself, and spent the whole day canvassing the area for that creature. I even had to talk my way out of a neighbor blowing my head off with a .357 Magnum.

  He relented when I explained what I was looking for and even helped me look around his property. We found a very annoyed raccoon, but that was the extent of our success.

  I went back every day for five days, hoping I’d see a sign of some kind and be able to get the monkey off my back, but I never found it. I suspected that nature and hunger killed it; at least that’s what I comforted myself with.

  I used to pray, even if I wasn’t a practicing religious person. It went something like this, “God, if you’re there, please forgive me. Please let Scott, Mara and Leah be at peace.”

  Sitting on the floor of my Japanese bathtub, not bothering to breathe and unworried about it, I knew that the prayers had done me no good at all. Leah wasn’t at peace. She was in a plastic box somewhere in Building One. Scott and Mara weren’t at peace, because I hadn’t finished the job.

  Me? No peace for me, either. I wasn’t even human anymore and killing had beco
me a pleasure, not a necessary evil. I guess my damnation caught up with me.

  Charlie gave me a ping between my ears. “Frank, are you at the bottom of the tub?”

  “Yeah,” I sent back, “looks like I don’t need to breathe underwater.”

  “Actually, you will have to eventually. They did some experiments with Nate and his friends a few weeks ago. We can stay under for about three hours before we need to breathe again.” Her mental voice was pretty flat, and it echoed my feelings perfectly.

  “Special. How’s Shawn’s leg?”

  “It’s good. We both got a little freaked watching it reattach, but it was fascinating, too.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Hey, Frankie Aquaman, why don’t you come out of the tub? Not seeing you while I talk to you is bugging me.”

  I stood up. I didn’t want her feeling any worse than she did already. “Sure. Would you grab me something to wrap around my waist?”

  “Didn’t you bring something to change into?”

  “No.” I shook my head and scratched my scalp with my free hand. “I didn’t really think about it. Something about having a great time killing people made it slip my mind.”

  “Drop the sarcasm, Mr. Warren Francis Hightower, or I’ll pull your pubes out one by one.” Charlie put both hands on her hips and glared. The blood and bodily fluid stains on her clothes intensified the visual impact. Trust me. “I know you feel awful, and the rest of us do, too. It sucks that we survive by killing things that look like us.”

  “It isn’t that.”

  “Then what is it?” Her voice softened a little bit, and I was grateful for it.

  “I’m not human anymore.”

  “All right. None of us are, thanks to the nanotech.” I saw her nodding, and knew that I hadn’t communicated correctly.

  “I don’t even know if I’m ME or not. My brain got rebuilt, and I like killing things now. That’s not ME, Charlie!”

  “Come down here, wet man,” she said, gesturing with both hands. With a quick glance around, she found a large towel and wrapped it around me when I came into range. “I understand what you’re saying, honey.”

  I felt her arms around me and let her hold me close. Despite my angst, I relaxed into her, and it seemed like an eternity since I’d felt that kind of warmth.

  “I learned a lot in school,” she said into my ear, “but I learned a lot more from just being alive. You’re telling yourself a story about being a horrible person, and I guess that’s because you can believe it so easily after violence like that.” I felt her lips on my cheek. “I’ve said that we’re not living in the normal world anymore. Why are you judging yourself by the rules of a world we aren’t living in?”

  Let me say this: when your lover is a mental health professional, you will get no rest. She’ll keep you thinking and pop your bullshit bubbles whenever she can.

  “It’s what I know, Charlie.”

  “Lover, it’s what you think you know.” Her arms hugged me tighter, and I could smell the dried bodily fluids that her opponents had left behind. “People have been defending their tribes, families and unborn babies since we came down from the trees. This isn’t any different.”

  “But...”

  “Frank, please don’t check out on me,” she said, cutting me off. “I need you.”

  I held her when her tears started. That’s how we were when Shawn and Chunhua wandered into the store, looking for us.

  Chapter 13

  “Did you hurt my little sister’s feelings?” I looked up into that wide country boy face and saw his concern for her, even if it didn’t show in his voice.

  “Maybe, but I’m trying to make it right.”

  “You’d better make sure you do.”

  Chunhua came up and wrapped her arms around both of us. I guess she’s better at physical displays of affection than Shawn is... unless he’s drunk. “We brought the nanotech patch over from Bajali. That’s just an excuse, though. I really wanted to see you two.” She kissed Charlie on the cheek and smacked my ass.

  “Did you smack his butt?”

  “Yes. If it bothers you, I won’t ever do it again.”

  “No, it’s okay if it’s you.” Charlie sniffled and pulled her head out of the crook of my neck. “Just do it harder, ‘cause most of his brain is back there.”

  My jaw dropped. Chunhua laughed and smacked my rear a few more times, much harder.

  “Owie!”

  “That’s more like it, Chu,” Charlie said, having a laugh of her own. “You’ve got real natural talent!”

  Shawn shook his head, hands on his hips, and said, “Dude, I’m going to pull your Caveman Club Card in a minute. This is conduct unbecoming of a Dude in Good Standing.”

  “Just give us the patch so I can get dressed and keep random women away from my bare ass!” I stopped hugging Charlie so I could hold my towel tightly and protectively around my body.

  “Already done, Spanky Butt!” Chunhua smiled, and her almond eyes completely disappeared in mirth. “All we needed to do was touch you. Bajali told us that the conversion should be almost instantaneous. The medical staff is so confident he’s right that they’re out without the biohazard gear on, helping move the bodies outside.”

  Looking out towards the front of the store, I couldn’t imagine Dr. Bottsford and his troop of clones unshelled and wandering around. “I just can’t imagine it. Let me guess, though, the guards haven’t appeared in Hawaiian shirts. Right?”

  “Nope,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “Which reminds me, I was going to ask if we could borrow your luxurious facilities to clean ourselves off?”

  Charlie and I shared a quick flicker of eye contact, and I took the initiative to answer his question. “Well, I don’t mind, but the tub water is in need of a refill and it takes a while to get the heat up, too. If you can hang out, you’re more than welcome.”

  Shawn and Chu did the exact brief eye contact thing Charlie and I did, but Shawn wasn’t the one to answer. “If you can show Shawn what he needs to do, I’d really love the chance to soak for a while. Please?”

  Yeah, like I could have refused if I’d wanted to.

  “Come on you big lug,” I said, grabbing his huge elbow. “I’ll show you how to make the tub pee and how to fill it up again.”

  “Pee?” He looked a little uneasy.

  “A turn of phrase, nothing more.” He followed me like a good Apprentice Bath Maker, even though I was only wearing a towel. Once we were out of easy earshot, I asked, “So. How is the blooming relationship?”

  “Good, I think. Chunhua’s got a powerful personality.” I didn’t need to see him to know that he was scratching his blood-matted hair. I could hear it.

  “From the look of things, that’s not unknown territory in your family.”

  He snorted like a bull and cracked a smile. I returned it, and started my ofuro care and feeding tutorial. Unsurprisingly, he digested the information like a champ, and I wandered back to the doorway, confident he’d make me proud.

  The womenfolk were still there, leaning against the wall, sharing a laugh about something I hadn’t heard. They gave me a quizzical look when I suddenly stopped and turned back to Shawn, who was observing the draining water.

  “One thing, Shawn,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t spooge in my tub, or you’ll be building me a new one.” I turned around to find our respective partners laughing like madwomen. “I’m counting on you to be the mature one here, Chunhua.”

  She replied when she caught her breath again. “You can count on me, Tub Master! I won’t let a drop hit the water!” She even went so far as to salute me.

  “This is well. The Tub Master is satisfied.” I gestured grandly at Charlie, who giggled. “Come with me, my darling. Let us ascend to the upper floor that we may dress me in most excellent finery.”

  “Indeed, good sir!”

  We made the most of the silliness all the way up to my room, and received applause from
our single admirer, down there in the spa doorway. Once we crossed that threshold, my leading lady gave me a huge hug and a delicious kiss to celebrate our standing ovation. I kicked the door closed, noting that I didn’t even remember anyone repairing it in the first place.

  With Charlie in my arms it was an easy thing to put out of my mind.

  “Say, we’ve not done anything vile recently,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her.

  “That’s true. Do you think we should?”

  “I’m leaning in that direction. What do you think?”

  “Hmm,” she replied, knitting her brows together in an entirely fetching manner. “The last time we had sex it might have knocked me up. On one hand ‘damage done’, but on the other hand, the nano-stuff might be throwing my period off and we’d be treading on thin ice.” Her face took on a different sort of seriousness than I’d seen before, almost clinical. “Unless you happen to have condoms around here somewhere.”

  “Ah. No, I don’t.”

  “Oh.” My heart fell in my chest and Don Quixote, who’d been monitoring the conversation, threw his earpiece down in frustration.

  Both the Don and I were surprised when she grabbed us and kissed me with delightful ferocity. The Don stood up. This was a change for the better and he didn’t want to miss it. I understood his feelings, intimately, because I didn’t want to miss it either. It was a mite startling when she grabbed me by the back of my neck, though.

  “Listen to me, Frankie the Telephone Pole, I am so frustrated we don’t have rubbery flak jackets around here that I’m about to scream.” I nodded at her, feeling every inch of my own angst on that topic. “But I owe you a little something from the last time we made love, and I’m eager to pay you back.”

  “What.” Pant. “Do.” Drool. “You.” Pant. “Owe me?”

  “Stick your tongue out.”

  Lost in my hormones, I did as she required. A moment later, she sucked my tongue into her mouth and... sucked it. The French call orgasm “the little death,” and even the Japanese call it “going to heaven,” but nobody I know has this description: the little near-death experience. My brain coded out, and the Crotch Mariachi started rocking out to Led Zeppelin.