Unrelenting Tide: A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (Children of the Elements Book 4)

by Alexa Dare

  “Boy’s got a pretty bad blister.” Merv held on to Isaiah. “You’re gonna be okay little fellow. Better already, huh.”

  “Owie.”

  “I know. Hurt like the dickens, didn’t it? All better now. Took the pain and healed the skin beneath. Don’t have it in me right now to take way the blister. Yet.” Merv ruffled the little fellow’s hair. “But you’re right, Hannah, we’d better get to it. Our powers are coming on quick like and then leaving in a just as much of a hurry.”

  Vincent tossed a bag of protein bars. “You need to eat more, sir. You must be ready to heal both the boy and Miss Irene.”

  “Please call me Merv, son. You ain’t half bad, kid.”

  “Perhaps not like this.” A deep sadness settled in his too light eyes. “The other way, sir, I tend to be quite bad.”

  “Not your fault son. Maybe my nephew can figure out how to help you not suffer when the urge comes over you.”

  “Brody’ll fix it,” Darcy Lynn said. “He can fix anything.”

  “Not all.” Hannah’s mouth drew into a tight scowl. She glanced at the blinking glows along the ceiling seam. “He and Abe made a mess.”

  “Things went haywire.” Merv’s words echoed Irene’s shaded gaze. “They tried, and I doubt they meant to create the bad storms.”

  Why did they look upset with her?

  Hannah snuffed out a huff through her nose.

  Abe and Brody were the ones to screw up, not her.

  Vincent held a clipboard. He swung and batted two bugs away. “Their valiant efforts shall not go unnoticed.”

  “Hannah’s right. Your way of speech is a tad off. Even so, I like what you say. When you’re of a right mind, of course.”

  “Of course.” Vincent tipped his brow.

  “Abe and Brody’s trying made things a whole lot worse.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

  Irene and Merv, both calming the boys, glanced at each other.

  Well, Hannah was right.

  What was the matter with them? Adults…they always thought they knew it all. Annoyed, Hannah waggled one of the rapidly dimming light sticks.

  The glow didn’t brighten.

  “We shall not find these insects unless they blink.”

  Hannah pressed the shirt between the jar already holding the first bug. She mashed as Merv said. With a squish and pop, a clear liquid seeped through the cotton material. The cloth sizzled and curled acrid smoke. The acid liquid ate away at the woven threads. In hissing rotten-egg sputters, the liquid seared the door’s metal.

  “For an adult,” Hannah said. “You’re pretty smart Uncle Merv.”

  Merv chuckled. “No need to keep them alive. But if you kill them, they might be harder to find and collect.”

  Trying to catch bugs while not freeing the others turned out to be pretty hard. For every two she netted, one flew out. “I can’t close the lid fast enough.”

  “Be still. Don’t move.”

  “What?” A glow blinked right over Hannah’s head.

  The outer stubby strands of her hair right above her temple shifted.

  Breath held, Hannah dared not move.

  Vincent took the pickle jar and shook it.

  Like a hard rain, the captured bugs fell to the lower part of the glass.

  In a waft of pickle juice, the lid and jar jerked her hair.

  He wiggled the jar. When he eased the lid, she slipped free.

  “Thank you, Vincent.” Hannah shook the flashing bugs down in and captured another. “Nice. You really aren’t so bad.”

  “Tell that to all those I harmed.” Vincent scooped up a second jar. With Darcy Lynn’s help, he dumped out pitted green olives.

  “If I could, I would tell them all.” Hannah grinned.

  “As would I to those who fall victim to the sword of your tongue.”

  Merv snorted and barked a laugh. “Getting to like you more and more, young fella.”

  “For most of my life, I have been less than likable, sir.”

  “Through no fault of your own. Allowing them to enhance my nephews was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Brody’s older brother suffered his entire life. Poor Brody… I don’t even know where or how he is.”

  “They’re all three fine. Don’t you dare say otherwise, Merv Thackett.” Hannah lifted her chin.

  Irene clapped, scowled, and shook her head.

  Fine. Adults always stuck together any way.

  The sobs of the twins made Hannah wish she could cry.

  Darcy Lynn’s pale face, in the faint glow of the light stick, looked drawn and scared.

  “Sure, little lady.” Merv edged back toward the door. This time, he rolled his bulk over and crawled. “You might be sharp tongued, but you do have spunk, just like your Miss Irene.”

  “We have to plug the crack. There’s more in here than we can kill or catch.” Hannah handed him her catch.

  Vincent shook his new jar already filled with dozens upon dozens of bugs. He capped on the lid and twisted it on tight.

  “Vincent, you swat. Give me the paper from your clipboard.”

  “Paper is rather hard to come by these days.” Vincent helped Merv to dump the second bottle of bugs into the first. “I believe the page to be a supply check list.”

  “Hand it over, why don’t you?” Hannah clenched her teeth and groaned. “What is wrong with you people? There’s nothing sharp or harsh about what I say or how I talk. Move, Vincent.”

  Vincent waved the board, then swatted.

  Irene used a failing light stick to scoop any injured or dead bugs into a foil wrapper.” With a gasp, she used the stick as a bat to knock away a flying one.

  Scaling the shelves, Hannah held the page in her hand. “Hand me the jar.”

  She folded the sheet of paper and raked several bugs into the stinky olive jar. She capped the lid, then gauged the size of the split. Once the paper was folded into fourths, then eighths, she stuffed the wedge into the crack.

  “There, that should hold. Ooh, the foil protein bar wrappers would work even better.” A sting flared high up on Hannah’s right cheek. “Ah.” She jerked to the side, clawing at the burning area with an outward swipe of her curved fingers. Off balance, she fell off the shelving unit.

  “Quite unsafe.” Vincent held out his arms to catch her.

  Hannah crashed into him.

  The two of them tumbled to the ground.

  Merv knee-walked over to them. His big hand banded Hannah’s wrist. “Relax. Got the breath knocked out of you is all.” He ripped a wrapper of a protein bar with his teeth. He spit the silver crinkle wrapper out. Pieces of cakey stuff tumbled out of his mouth and wafts of vanilla rose as he chewed and spoke.

  Hot. Hurt. So. Bad.

  Hannah rolled off Vincent. On the floor, she writhed her head.

  “Let me see, girl.” Even as he ate, Merv forced her to turn her stinging cheek toward him. He used water to wash the acid stuff from her face.

  “She’s crying,” said Jeremiah.

  No, way. Hannah wasn’t.

  “The blister,” Merv said, “is shaped like a teardrop.”

  Good, since Hannah couldn’t shed her own.

  The twins had stopped crying.

  Irene and the kids stared, waiting. For what? For her to boo-hoo and whine.

  Hannah squared her jaw.

  Hurt slammed in her skull.

  Over her, Vincent loomed. Eyes closed, he moved his lips in silent words. His pointer finger hovered over the front of the clipboard.

  Hannah braced her back teeth against the fierce pain on her cheek. “Head hurts, so my rain power’s coming back.”

  From outside the door, metal clanged against metal. The mean-girl just wouldn’t give up.

  “Let’s do this, Vincent. They’re just stupid bugs.” Among pickle and olive smells, Hannah shoved Merv’s hands away. With a moan, she rolled over onto her belly.

  “Must not draw,” Vincent said. “Shall not draw.”

  Irene, in a hoarse tune, hum
med a bedtime lullaby.

  Vincent’s eyelids dropped, and for the moment, he calmed.

  “Let’s get busy living.” Instead of being grateful to Irene, Hannah hung her head, swayed on her hands and knees.

  “You’re hurt.” Merv reached for her. “Won’t take but a moment for me to ease your pain.”

  “Time we don’t have. It hurts, but I won’t let it stop me. Heal Irene’s voice while you can.” Hannah crawled toward the jars. “Hello! Real world to Vincent. Hold the bigger jar. Let’s pour the rest of them into the one bottle.” Her cheek stung hot, with blistering pain. “Uncle Merv, you want the bugs against the door, right?”

  “As near the handle as we can.”

  Glass clinked as Hannah jiggled the bottom jar. “When I pull the lid away, pour in the rest. Quick.”

  Other lights lit on the shelves. Some flew.

  The boys and Darcy Lynn ducked. Each used a wrapped protein bar as a bug bat.

  “I will not draw.” Vincent swayed on his feet.

  Hannah kicked his ankle.

  He blinked.

  “Help me,” Hannah said, “please.”

  Glass ground against metal.

  “I need for you to do this. Ready?”

  Vincent batted his glazed eyes as if he’d just woken from a bad dream. Maybe of what the world used to be? He tipped his head as if studying her.

  “Vincent, please. We need you.”

  His gaze settled on her face. At his nod, relief surged within Hannah.

  As one, they dumped most of the bugs into the big bottle.

  With a clink, she slid the lid between the two lips of glass.

  Again as a team, they turned the jar on its side. Their holds firm, they knelt and pressed the jar top to the metal.

  “I have it.” Hannah gripped the big jar. “Ready?”

  His haunting gaze meeting hers, Vincent slid the lid away.

  A thump banged the door’s outside, but they held steady.

  “It’s okay guys.” Hannah focused on what she was doing. Not her cheek’s jab of pain or the ache in her head. “We’re going to get out of here soon.”

  “Bad Peyton,” one brother said.

  “The wind wants to play real bad, Hannah.” Darcy Lynn’s worried gaze copied Hannah’s.

  So did Vincent’s.

  This surge of power was going to be a doozy.

  One Hannah feared she might not be able to control.

  Picking up the dropped light stick, Merv held the glow near the door.

  Within the glass circle, bugs teamed. Acid sizzled against the door slab and smoke worse than burnt popcorn and rotten egg fanned across the door, over the handle, and upward.

  Hannah glared at the smooth metal plate. “Peyton had better move back. We’re busting out.”

  Isaiah yelled. “Bugs.”

  “Not bugs. Clouds,” said Darcy Lynn. “Huh oh, Hannah.”

  Hannah spared a glance upward.

  Above, white mist shifted in a slight breeze.

  As if trying to break from a storybook stone castle, they were busting out.

  If their out-of-control powers didn’t stop them first.

  Chapter 20

  Sometime in the early morning hours, perhaps 3:00 or 4:00 AM, on Friday, Nora held court from the stair platform.

  In the school gymnasium, though void of bones and feeding debris, the female prisoner, with the new-and-improved Yates, the light-haired male vessel, and the half dozen of his remaining militia members, one female and four males, stood in the middle of the basketball floor.

  Their gore-smeared, leafy and digital camouflage added to the reek that, oddly, didn’t repulse Nora, but presented as a natural, sort of pleasant musk.

  Hunger ramped, Nora observed the bedraggled group from the rise of the stairs leading into the sunken tray floor of the gym.

  With no lamb, venison, or pork in sight… Not even a scrawny banty hen. Cramps jabbed her insides. Soon she must feed. Though not quite yet. For the moment, she admired Yates' rugged renewed vessel. If only she were living and able to appreciate the handsome sensuality of the manly visage.

  The ice-bladed hail stopped moments before, and the ache in her head indicated an onset of her power.

  “The spikes in power come after the downpours,” she muttered with an exhale of rot. Halitosis had nothing on zombie breath. The putridness coming out of her, somehow different than dead body odor …she would never get used to. Her scientist brain, though shriveling with each passing moment, kicked into gear.

  The electromagnetic field levels must surge after each geomagnetic storm buildup released.

  “Nora Belle, dearest, you have to listen to me.” Yates, in roguish man form, stepped out of the group of other survivalists that had once herded zombies there.

  “Don’t call me dearest. I am not your dear. Nor your southern belle, for that matter.” Nora propped upright on the stair banister, the metal painted with so many layers that the paint cracked and peeled like her skin soon would.

  With a steeling rasping inhale, she said, “I need three things from you. One, if we are to salvage what’s left of this world and live a simple life, we need to get our hands on the children of the elements. You were right about using them to keep the military and the government at bay. The librarian has assured me, we zombies will sniff them out.”

  Yates quirked a brow, accenting the chiseled strength of his handsome face. Why did looking at his newfound raven hair, jutting jaw, and sky-blue gaze stab at her eyes and make her want to look away?

  “Secondly, we want transference to vessels for the librarian, along with a few chosen others.”

  “And the third?” Yates lifted a corner of his mouth.

  “We need sustenance. More livestock brought to us.”

  “Nora, the storms must have taken out most everything living. Within the region, if not throughout the world.”

  “You have the tank for transport now. I trust in your aptitude and fortitude. Please prepare to take a party of intelligent zombies out to scavenge. One of you will be escorted by a dozen of our kind.”

  “It’s not a you or us.” He bowed his head. “At least, it doesn’t have to be.”

  “Of course it is. You locked me away and left me. I am dead and you are living, how else can it be?”

  “I intended to come back for you,” he said with a car salesmen-slick tone, “and to make it up to you.”

  The door behind her opened. Shuffling in, the librarian, wrapped in rot reek as well, regarded the living with eager anticipation. “The zombies sniffed the inside of the tank’s hull for traces of their scents. Then our troops tracked them to discover there are two separate groups.”

  Nora growled an eager sigh. “My son?”

  “No details, but two locations. The old defunct Mossy Grove mineshaft and the Rocky Top Observatory. Should we intend to travel, there shouldn’t be much danger between building storms. We will need to plan to seek shelter during the worst of the bad weather.”

  Nora blinked. “I didn’t consider that we might endanger the children.”

  Have I grown so callous?

  “Since part of them are holed up underground,” said the librarian. “We should be able to herd them through the tunnels the survivalist mountain militiamen say exist.”

  “Did the tunnel network survive the earthquakes?”

  “Partially, it seems. I’ll ready those that are in the best physical shape to help with the foraging.” Casting a long, hankering glance at the foot-shuffling, fresh meal-fragranced—such as garlic bread, pasta, and spaghetti sauce—members of the fast-fading extremist group, the zombie librarian left.

  Something shifted on the side of Nora’s neck. She reached up. Her ear sagged a good half inch. “Yates, my time in this form is short, and I wish to be by your side so that we can lead others into a new existence.”

  “We’re of like mind, Nora.” Laugh lines crinkled around the outer corners of his eyes. “I appreciate your forgivenes
s of my transgressions and will do my darndest to live up to your expectations.”

  “Not mere expectations, Yates, but requirements. When the time is right, you must transfer me to my chosen vessel.”

  Yates’ brows shot high and his complexion paled. “After what happened to LeeAnne…”

  The former prisoner, the lovely chestnut-haired woman, ducked her head and moved behind Yates to stand out of Nora’s line of sight.

  “First a food run,” Nora said. “So our zombie troops aren’t tempted by you tasty morsels. After, we will travel toward our final destination.”

  “We’ll time your transference carefully.” Yates eyed the brunette. He actually looked eager at the prospect. Too eager.

  The intended vessel moaned.

  Nora smiled and felt a lower tooth tilt inward.

  “We’ll travel by tank. Make the transfer en route. Then we’ll find our son, and the others.” Yates stepped toward her. “We’ll be the family we were always meant to be.”

  The loose tooth toppled into Nora’s mouth.

  With her tongue, she nudged the tooth along the back edges of her other teeth. She scooped the tooth from between her lips in a pinch of her thumb and index finger.

  The tooth, with long forked roots sat yellow against the dull gray of her fingertips. Were all of her teeth so yellowed and stained?

  Nora examined each side of the tooth, shrugged, and flicked it way with a flip of her fingers.

  “We’ll make this work,” Yates said. Despite his television commercial grin, he failed to hide his revulsion. “Whatever you say, Nora Belle.” Wide eyes reflected horror, while his too tight facial muscles transformed the handsome face into a cartoonish mask. “Not Belle. Just plain Nora. Of course, you’re not plain. I meant…”

  “Shut up, Yates,” Nora said, “Get your group ready. Now.”

  Chapter 21

  While their webs burned and with smoke fast filling the underground chamber, two sets of eight creeping, far-reaching legs inched toward Brody’s neck and face.

  He shuddered and tucked his chin against the bulge of his Adam’s apple.

  Inside the tunnel deep below an East Tennessee mountain, in their underground world of damp grays and browns, panic flooded Brody’s chest while his head throbbed.