As The World Dies
Untold Tales
Volume Two
Rhiannon Frater
As the World Dies: Untold Tales V.2
By Rhiannon Frater
Original Copyright 2012 by Rhiannon Frater
All Rights Reserved.
Kindle Edition
Edited by Felicia A. Sullivan
Interior formatting by Kody Boye
Cover Artwork and Layout by Philip Rogers
ISBN-13:
ISBN-10:
http://rhiannonfrater.com/
http://astheworlddies.com/
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situation are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
Author’s Note:
The three stories you are about to read are a perfect segue into SIEGE, the last book in the AS THE WORLD DIES zombie trilogy. Every character in the stories plays a role in SIEGE in some capacity. In some cases, the journey started in these short stories come full circle in SIEGE.
The stories in UNTOLD TALES VOLUME 2 provide an intriguing backdrop to the events in the third book.
I hope you enjoy all three stories and the small glimpses you will get into the lives of the people who inhabit the AS THE WORLD DIES universe.
Eternally,
Rhiannon Frater
February 21, 2012
Also by Rhiannon Frater
As the World Dies Series
The First Days
Fighting to Survive
Siege (Spring 2012 from Tor)
Untold Tales, V1.
Pretty When She… Series
Pretty When She Dies: A Vampire Novel
Vampire Bride Series
The Tale of the Vampire Bride
The Vengeance of the Vampire Bride
The Living Dead Boy and the Zombie Hunters
Short Story Collections
Blood and Love and Other Vampire Tales
Cthulu’s Daughter and Other Tales of Horror
Dedicated with much love and affection to the fans of the AS THE WORLD DIES zombie trilogy
Table of Contents
Revelation (Katarina’s Story)
A Terrible Moment (The Unknowns’ Story)
Friendship in the Time of Zombies (Ken and Lenore’s Story)
Katarina’s Story
Katarina has been in the series since THE FIRST DAYS. Though she is not a major character, she has always garnered fan love. I have had many emails asking me to write an untold tale about the plain redhead. Nerit’s protégée has always had a vital role in the fort, but her past was shrouded in mystery.
The online serial briefly touched on her first day story, but it was removed from the Tor edition of SIEGE. As I was working on the revision, I realized her back story didn’t fit smoothly in the narrative and felt tacked on. I was sad to remove it, but suddenly realized it would make a great untold tale.
I’m very pleased to present Katarina’s first day story fully realized and expanded upon for your reading pleasure.
Revelation
The hot dinner plate was burning her hand, her feet were aching in her sneakers, and the throbbing pain nestled between her shoulder blades seemed to be settling in for the long haul. Katarina wanted nothing more than to take a few Advil, soak her feet, and lay on the sofa at home with an ice pack. Sadly, the breakfast shift wasn’t over for another hour in the small diner decorated in Coke Cola memorabilia.
Maneuvering around crowded tables in the cafe, she aimed for the booth in the far corner. A knot of dread filled her chest as she drew closer. She dreaded dealing with the man seated there.
Randall was a regular customer in the cafe. A long haul trucker, his route took him straight through Ashley Oaks every few weeks. He always stopped to grab coffee and a hot plate of food. His shorn head and scruffy beard, coupled with his usual plaid shirt and heavy boots, always made Katarina think of a lumberjack. Though he always left her very good tips, she didn’t like him in the least. His shrewd eyes were a little too keen on her. She was nothing to look at with her unruly red hair, weak chin, freckles, and pale eyes, but he seemed to relish directing his unwanted attentions on her. It had taken her a long time to figure out that what she didn’t like about his blatant flirting was that he wasn’t doing it because he was attracted to her, but because he could see she didn’t like it. Her discomfort was his enjoyment.
“Oh, good enough to eat,” he said as she slid the plate down in front of him. As usual, he wasn’t looking at the food, but at her. “Delicious and pink, tasty and savory. And just a little salty, I guess?”
“The ham is fresh. Just had it delivered yesterday,” she answered quickly, setting down his silverware and a few extra napkins.
“I like things fresh,” he said, grinning, his eyes on her neck. He had once traced the edge of her collarbone with his fingertips. She had taken a very hot shower to remove the memory of his thick, dry fingers.
Even though her uniform was very modest, pale blue with a white apron, skirt to her knees, her collar just below her collarbone, he always made her feel as though she was flashing an intimate part of her body.
“I’ll get you more coffee,” Katarina said, and made a hasty escape.
Though flustered, she remembered to check on her other tables, smiling in spite of her exhaustion and her discomfort. She could feel Randall’s eyes watching her from across the room.
The diner was open twenty-four hours, catering mostly to the truckers passing through the area. Though they were not on an interstate, trucks cut through the area trying to shave off time. The old highway at the edge of Ashley Oaks was usually busy with only locals and truck drivers. Tourists never made it out this way, though city hall was working hard to make the town a new tourist trap like Fredericksburg or Marfa, Texas. The reconstruction downtown was impressive so far with the hotel being restored, but Katarina thought it was all a pipe dream. Did anyone really care that, back in the golden age of Hollywood, movie stars had vacationed in Ashley Oaks?
“Hey, boys,” Katarina said, checking on a table packed with construction workers. Most of them were new to the area, but she had known Juan since they were in elementary school together. Travis was new, but she knew him because of the massive crush one of the other waitresses had on him. “How’s the food?”
“Great. Almost as good as my mom’s,” Juan answered in his thick West Texas drawl. He was a cute one with green eyes and curly dark hair. He was descended from a long line of cowboys and Katarina liked his gentlemanly manner.
“I’ll let the cook know,” Katarina said with a grin.
“Brenda’s not working this morning?” Travis asked before sipping his coffee.
“Nope. She’s got a later shift. You should come by for dinner,” Katarina answered.
Juan nudged Travis and his friend just smiled bashfully.
Katarina picked up their ticket and their payment. As she walked away, she heard the men scooting back their chairs, ready to go to work. Juan tipped his cowboy hat before disappearing out the front door with his friends, the bell over the door chiming softly. She finished ringing up their transaction and was thankful for the huge tip they had left her. Tucking it into her apron, she mentally added it to her slowly growing savings.
Of course, her savings would most likely end up paying for her mother’s expenses, but she allowed herself a little dream of one day going on a real vacation to somewhere fancy like Cancun without her bitter mother. Maybe it was foolish to even consider the money hers to begin with. The only reason her mother had even all
owed her to get a job was because they needed more money. Though the financial crunch was anxiety-inducing, it had liberated Katarina from the confines of her mother’s home.
Even though she was twenty-eight, she lived at home with her elderly ailing mother. Katarina had been conceived for the sole purpose of taking care of her parents after the last of their children had left home. This truth had been instilled in her head since birth. Her parents made sure that she understood that college, marriage, and children were not in the cards for her life. Isolated from the world, Katarina’s entire life until she was twenty-seven was her bitter, emotionally-remote parents and their stuffy home. Then her father had passed away and her mother had demanded that Katarina find a way to financially support her.
Earning her own money waitressing was the biggest accomplishment of her life. She was good at the job and she often wondered if it was her only talent. Sometimes she dreamed about having her own small place and making decisions for her own life, but knew it would never happen while her mother was still alive. Her mother’s sharp tongue was very adept at keeping Katarina trapped in a web of guilt and fear.
Katarina both envied and resented her much older siblings for escaping the clutches of their parents and Ashley Oaks. She doubted she would ever escape.
Snagging the coffee pot, Katarina began to weave her way around the restaurant refilling cups and giving customers their tickets. She could see Randall eating and watching her out of the corner of her eye. It made her uneasy.
Her mother and father never let her have friends or boyfriends growing up. After school, she had to always go straight home to a long list of chores. Katarina didn’t even have a friend until she started working at the cafe. Maybe Brenda didn’t even count since they never hung out outside of work hours, but the other waitress was the closest thing Katarina had ever had to a friend. Her mother hated Brenda. She was convinced that Brenda was turning Katarina against her. Katarina didn’t agree. It was Brenda who helped her see the world in a new way. It wasn’t just about being her mother’s constant caretaker, but about enjoying all that life had to offer. She supposed it was lucky that she was able to go to work after her father’s death, otherwise she would have never even dared dream about one day doing something for herself. And if not for Brenda, Katarina wouldn’t have found out that her wariness about Randall was justified.
Randall was just like her mother. They liked to hurt and dominate people they considered weaker than themselves.
As she poured him some coffee, Randall lightly touched her hip. “Getting skinny. You know I like women with something to hold on to.”
She cocked her hip away from him, avoiding his touch as she finished pouring. “I work hard here and at home.”
“I’d like you to work hard somewhere else,” Randall said in that disconcerting tone of his.
Slapping the ticket down on the table, she plastered a fake smile on her face. “I’ll take care of that when you’re ready.”
“I’d like to take care of you when you’re ready,” Randall said with a wide, yet mirthless smile.
Whipping about, Katarina hurried away, wishing Brenda hadn’t taken a different shift. She had to cover the entire restaurant since Jolene was out sick. Usually Brenda traded tables with her so that Randall couldn’t harass her.
Katarina took the orders from a new table and hurried behind the counter. She glanced over into the kitchen where the cooks were busy making breakfast as their Tejano music blasted away, covering the din of the costumers talking. She rang the bell and handed the order over to one of the cooks. She had a few minutes before she had to circle the restaurant again. Picking up a cleaver instead of a knife, she began to slice up some lemons, keeping one eye on the tables as she worked. She was feeling a little aggressive and the cleaver felt heavy and powerful in her grip. The lemon juice bit at her sinuses, but she liked the smell. It was a clean scent. She kept slicing and sweeping the pieces into a bowl. The restaurant always needed a lot of lemon for sweet tea during lunch time.
Randall raised his hand, money in his grip. He beckoned her over, smiling mockingly.
Sighing, she set the cleaver down and wiped off her hands. Just a few more seconds of him being a jerk and she would be free of him for another week or so. Scooting around the serving counter, she headed toward his table.
The bell over the front door jingled as it opened.
“Just find a table and I’ll be right with you,” Katarina called out, waving her hand.
A gasp from a customer pulled her attention away from Randall’s wide grin. A man stood in the doorway, his hands pressed against his throat. His mouth opening and closing silently, he stumbled forward. Eyes wide with fear, he slowly reached out toward the customers that were staring at him in shock. Sinking down to his knees, the man violently coughed, blood pouring out of his mouth. Katarina rushed toward him, almost tripping over someone’s purse. Randall arrived at the man’s side before her.
The wounded man’s hands were covered in blood as he pawed at Randall, imploring him silently for help. Katarina gasped at the horrible bloody mangled wreck beneath his chin. As silently as he had entered, the man fell forward as his eyes rolled up into his head. Randall barely caught the man by the shoulders and lowered him to the floor.
“Someone slit his throat or something!” Randall shouted. “Call 911!”
Customers stood in clusters around their tables in shocked silence, staring at the spectacle before them. One or two pulled out their phones. Katarina grabbed a small hand towel from her waistband and thrust it at Randall.
“I-I think you need to put pressure on his neck,” she stammered.
Crouched in the growing pool of the wounded man’s blood, Randall took the towel without a nasty word or leering look. With surprising gentleness, he pressed the rolled up cloth to the man’s throat. “I don’t know if this can help. Is there a doctor or nurse here?”
Hovering over the two men, Katarina shoved her frizzy bangs out of her face. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind was racing and she couldn’t think straight. The customers were slowly tiptoeing up around her, trying to see better, offering advice in distressed voices.
A few headed for the door.
“Hey, you can’t leave! The sheriff is going to want to question us,” Katarina called out.
The customers hesitated, then retreated to their seats.
“I don’t think he’s breathing no more,” Randall said. “Did someone call 911?”
“I’m trying. No one is answering,” someone replied.
Katarina crouched and touched the wounded man’s wrist gently. She checked for a pulse with quivering fingers. She felt nothing.
“I think he’s dead,” she whispered, her voice catching on the words.
The man rose and bit into Randall’s wrist in one swift motion. It happened so fast that Katarina registered the blood spraying her before she fully realized what had happened.
Randall’s screams filled the cafe as people started to shout and cry out in alarm. Katarina was hit with another spray of blood as the man ripped a huge chunk of flesh from Randall’s arm and chewed it.
The horror of the moment froze her body and seized her mind. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as she watched the bloodied man eating the meat torn from Randall’s body.
“Help me,” Randall gasped, struggling to escape.
The clearly insane man attacked again, teeth sinking into skin and muscle as Randall screamed.
Fear disintegrated into something cold and hard inside of Katarina’s mind. She knew exactly what she needed to do. Twisting around, Katarina shoved her way through the chairs, bodies, and tables blocking her path. People’s faces were twisted into screams and tables and chairs clattered to the floor as they tried to flee. Katarina stumbled a few times, but made it to the counter before the stampede to the back door exit could catch her. Leaning over the counter, she grabbed the cleaver.
Randall’s screams became shriller as dreadful fleshy, rippin
g noises emanated from the front of the restaurant. Katarina ran toward the sound, her hand raised over her head. Men, women, and a few children ducked out of her way as she descended on the bloody chaos before the front door. Randall lay on the floor, his body seizing as the man tore at his face with his teeth.
Katarina felt strangely disconnected from the world around her as she brought the cleaver down with all her strength. It struck the back of the man’s head with a meaty thwack. She attacked again and again.
It wasn’t until the man lay silent at her feet, his head a butchered ruin, that Katarina felt fear and despair fill her.
She had just killed someone.
A sob broke free from her lips as she gaped at Randall. He was quiet now, not moving. She was covered in blood and bits of flesh and bone. It was warm and sticky.
Turning, she saw a few customers grouped near the back door staring at her in horror. One of them held his phone up to his ear.
“I saw it, hon. You did what you had to. I’ll tell the police,” the man with the phone said. “Pure self-defense.”
A growl drew her attention to Randall just as a hand clasped her ankle. Randall rolled onto his side, his teeth gnashing as murky eyes glowered at her. Slipping in the blood, he tried to hold onto her while getting to his knees.
“Let go!” Katarina stepped back and tried to pull free.
She almost slipped and managed to grab a table, keeping herself upright. His grip did not lessen, but tightened. Growling again, Randall slid around in the blood as he tried to crawl toward her.
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