Jenny smiled weakly but didn’t say a word, her eyes fixed on the dark liquid within her glass as it moved slightly from the movement of its container. Misty’s gaze moved back to the photos on the wall in front of her, liquor of every kind and color lined against it. She even recognized a few old labels from when her dad drank at home that truly brought her back to the time before the apocalypse. As she opened her mouth to begin her story, images of what had transpired flooded her mind and caused a chill to ricochet up and down her spine despite the warmth of the room. She cleared her throat and began.
“My mama and daddy were happy; at least, it looked like they were. My mama had paranoid schizophrenia, and I wasn’t told about it till I was at least fifteen. After that, I did as much research as I could to learn about it. I thought I was scared of it before because I’d noticed my mom was a little off sometimes, but after readin’ all the books and lookin’ at all the websites, I was scared,” Misty admitted, taking another small sip of the beer. The slightly bitter taste coated her tongue now, the anxiety of telling her story causing it to taste even acrider than it already did, causing her face to scrunch up slightly.
“Why is that?” Jenny asked.
Misty dropped her arm to the countertop, the shiny coating of polyurethane making it barely cooler than their surroundings. It didn’t offer even a tiny bit of relief. “Well, see, it’s genetic. It’s very possible I could develop it at some point in my life. And at this age, I’m at a point where we’ll see if I do or not. And I’m terrified.”
“I’m assuming your parents both died, then?”
“They did,” Misty confirmed with a nod of her head. “My daddy was killed when a meteorite crashed into our house. Me and my mama were out and were just comin’ back when it hit.”
“And your mom? What happened to her?” Jenny seemed truly interested. Misty could see her in her periphery, Jenny leaning toward her and facing her, but Misty couldn’t look at her. She felt ashamed that she hadn’t been able to save her mother from the mist and she knew Jenny would feel the same way about her.
“She was taken by the mist. We’d already been runnin’ from it for two days, and without her medication, she could become difficult to handle. The hallucinations and her behavior made it really hard to make her stay next to me without havin’ to hold her hand all the time, but even then, I still couldn’t save her from herself. She swore that daddy was waitin’ for us inside of it and tried to touch it, but she was dragged inside and killed. I didn’t stick around to see anything after that.”
Jenny was silent for a moment and then her hand came to rest on Misty’s arm, comforting her as best as she could. “I’m so sorry.”
Misty shrugged and turned to look at her, tears welling up in her eyes seeing that Jenny didn’t pity her or blame her. It was a relief really, to have a friend who didn’t point the finger at her and tell her that she caused her mother’s death. Even if they hadn’t known each other that long, it felt good.
“I blamed myself for a while, ya know? Kinda still do.” Her eyes fell, a frown taking residence on her face as she made the admission. “I thought I could save her, but once she was out of meds, I knew it wouldn’t be long before somethin’ happened. I just didn’t know when.”
“But at least you can say you tried. That’s all anyone can expect. It’s not like we all knew that the world was going to change like this,” Jenny said as she used her index finger to motion toward the entirely of the world in a swirling motion above her head. “There’s nothing any of us could’ve done. Nothing.”
“If only I could believe it,” Misty said with a sigh, her shoulders rising and falling with the movement.
Jenny shifted and licked her lips in anticipation of what she was going to say next. “My parents are dead, too.” She took a deep, shaking breath and continued, “We were at the mall, and we’d just walked out to the parking lot on our way to the car. My mom and I were the closest to it, and my father.” She paused. “My father was behind us. He saw the meteorite first, but it was too late. It hit and took out the car. I was knocked flying. When I came to my mother was dead, and my father was nowhere to be seen. I’m not sure what happened to him, but I always assumed he died, too. If not then, then sometime after.”
Misty felt sorry for her, suddenly feeling the urge to comfort her new friend. She reached forward and rested her hand on Jenny’s on the bar top, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she apologized to her even though she hadn’t been the one to make the kill.
“No need to apologize,” Jenny said as she turned away from Misty and removed her hand, picking up the glass of dark lager and taking a long, drawn out swallow. “We all have stories like this now, and I don’t want the pity.”
Misty nodded and turned back to her drink. She had wanted to tell her that she didn’t pity her, but she couldn’t speak. She wouldn’t have even known what to say if she could. Her finger trailed the small river of suds that had made its way out of the glass when Edd set them down and pushed them in their direction.
“Dang, ladies. Who let the air out of the room?” A voice they both recognized from their brief interaction caused them to turn around in their seats.
Both Joshua and Mark stood behind them, grins on their faces as they took in the two girls before them. Joshua’s hands were stuffed into his pockets, and Mark still had the same bag from before slung over his shoulder, looking uncomfortable once he realized they had been deep in a private conversation.
“Mind if we join you?” Mark asked.
***
“Ummm, no. Not at all,” Jenny replied as she motioned to the seats on either side of them. Her brown eyes twinkled in the dim light as Joshua looked at her, noticing the delicate lines of her jaw as it clenched.
Joshua took the stool next to Jenny and Mark moved to the one beside Misty, on instinct to be closer to the door. Joshua knew this because he had always been this way since the meteorite shower that had created the creatures they ran from for the first year afterward. And they ran together. Always together, never leaving one another’s side even in the direst of circumstances. As Joshua settled on the stool, he noticed Misty motion to the bartender with two fingers in the air. The man with short, clipped hair and light eyes nodded to her and began to fill two glasses without taking his eyes off his patrons, scanning the room for any hint of trouble. This was a common practice among the human race nowadays.
Joshua remembered then something that had happened in the Dead Zone when he had neglected to pay attention. It happened not too long after Mark had saved him at the carnival. They were watching the distance as Crankers roamed the dry and dark landscape, monitoring the area for one creature they hadn’t expected to move among the dead. It had been only six months after the strike, but a new breed of monster had begun to develop as a result of the Syc infection. The winged creatures left no place safe. The ground had been overrun by the Crankers, while the Barbarians and their winged bodies left even the air unsafe.
Mark was on his stilts, attempting to see as far out into the distance as possible on the large metal rods that his feet rested on. He was good with them and preferred not to be out of them at any cost, but somehow Joshua managed to persuade him to relinquish them to at least walk across the Dead Zone. And those very stilts had helped save his life.
Mark had been only about twenty yards away when the Cranker attacked Joshua, its greedy mouth and dead hungry gaze fixed on his as it attempted to close its jaw around his throat. He had screamed, but Mark had seen it and tried to get to him before it ascended on him, taking it down with one swipe to the head with the foot of one shining stilt.
“Think you ought to pay more attention, friend?” Mark had said to him then, and it was a running joke now.
Joshua was pulled from his thoughts by a glass full of a dark, foaming liquid bumping against his hands on the bar top.
“Please tell me this is what I think it is,” he choked as he fingered the glass.
“Sure is, son. Beer
. A dark lager that I make here myself,” the bartender said as the light in the room shifted across his eyes, giving him an eerie look that made them nearly white.
Mark gasped and said, “Oh, thank God.” He picked up the glass, some of the foam sloshing over the sides as he raised it in a salute and brought it to his lips. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He took a greedy mouthful and licked his lips, his eyebrows raising to meet his forehead. “Very good, my man. Very good.”
“Thank you, son. It helps that I helped run a Sam Adams brewery before all of this, so I knew exactly what to do. Even built the small brewery from scratch in the back room if you guys want to take a tour sometime,” Edd said with a jerk of his finger toward the back of the building as his eyes glinted with excitement that someone was interested in his craft.
“Dude, let’s do that soon,” Mark nearly shouted as he leaned forward to stare at Joshua next to Jenny, who was taking a slow and deliberate sip of the beverage. Mark genuinely wanted to learn about how the owner was able to craft such a fine beer with the scarce resources they had, so who was he to pass up the offer to get a tour and learn a few new things?
Joshua set the glass back down on the bar top and swallowed, saying, “Maybe.” His eyes didn’t look up from the dark amber liquid.
“Maybe? Oh, you’re no fun,” Mark huffed as he waved a dismissive hand at his friend. “I’ll definitely be back. You can count on that.” He took another long swallow of the liquid, letting the bitter hop flavor coat his mouth and tongue as he tried to decipher what else was in the brew.
Edd pointed at him when he noticed the movement of his jaw. “It’s a secret ingredient, boy. Goes to my grave with me.”
Mark swallowed and looked down at the beer before him with a sly grin, turning his face back toward Edd. “Not even a hint, huh?” He was genuinely curious how this man made his beer and what all was in it. He didn’t taste a hint of the peaches which grew not too far off. Did he get it something from the forest on the mountains? Or did he venture farther? Everyone knew that the Dead Zone started not too far past them, so it made Mark wonder.
“Nope,” Edd said with finality, “not even if a Cranker were to get at me tomorrow.”
Chapter 9
Five Miles from Station 4
July 2027
Revenant Underground Hideaway
Jenkins had never been the type for revenge before the meteorite shower. A couple of days after that his whole world had changed, and not just the one around him. The one inside of him had undergone a transformation he had no way of explaining to those who had not gone through it themselves. His skin had changed from the golden tan it once had been, turning into a deathly light blue so that the white veins underneath it showed effortlessly. They popped out even more when he hadn’t fed, showing almost purple as whatever lived within him that caused the unwelcome transformation pumped poison into his body to make him feed. That was the only way to stop the pain and the vomiting, and he had learned swiftly. He didn’t like it, but he did it to survive, and so that his people could thrive. He hadn’t meant to create others but, when he fed, it was the inevitable result.
Now he had an unknown number of Revs to govern, the name given to them by the infamous G.O.D. The Government of Defense had even attempted to wipe them out completely, but there was no stopping the spread once a Rev got hungry enough. One could turn to two and was followed quickly by four others, spreading like wildfire.
He stalked down the dimly lit hallway of the underground compound the Revs inhabited, taking hold of a deserted military strong-arm that hardly anyone knew existed. The walls were painted a dark, almost charcoal gray and the lights were so dim it was almost dark; anything brighter than a candle flicker caused searing pain in his steel gray eyes that were nearly white because of the intense night vision gifted to them as a race. And, because of the infection that ran through him because of the ‘Faith’ serum, he had lost all his hair, making him as bald as a newly born babe. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets as he walked, coming up to two new transitions, both of them slowly losing their hair and turning that lovely shade of sky blue the Revs were known for. They were standing there talking with baseball caps pulled down low over their heads to hide their splotchy balding scalps. They recognized him instantly and froze, their eyes not leaving him as he walked and turned his head toward them.
“Don’t you boys have somewhere you need to be?” he inquired, letting the air of authority make its way into his gruff voice. Ever since the change, his voice had always sounded like he swallowed glass, rough and gravelly.
The taller one’s eyes widened as the shorter one stammered.
“Umm, y—yes, sir,” he said.
They took off, not even looking over their shoulders as they headed in the same direction Jenkins was going. After all, they were moving toward the same destination. He knew that because every soldier within the ranks of the Revs was ordered to report to the hospital wing of the compound for physicals, to make certain they had been feeding and were in tiptop shape for them to move forward with his plan. They had been at war with the humans, but the humans weren’t even aware as G.O.D. covered up any of their attacks. And Jenkins was searching for the man who had turned him into a monster. Caesar Meldano, scientist and ex-military man who had worked for Area 51 on Floor X where they worked on special, confidential projects—one of them being the serum that had turned him. Meldano went by a different name now, though. He was the Head Hunter, a thing of legend that the humans continued to tell themselves didn’t exist because they were afraid of the boogeyman. Little did they know he was actually the one who could save them, and their continued denial only condemned them further. He shrugged to himself, knowing it wouldn’t matter anymore in two nights’ time.
Jenkins had a plan. He needed the healthiest and most skilled of his race to achieve it, and he knew that he could. The doors leading to the medical wing of the underground compound were now within sight, the two new additions pushing through them and practically sprinting. He chuckled and watched them as the doors swung closed. Most would’ve held the door open for him, but he detested the gesture. Always had. Even when he was human, he would hold the door open for others, but couldn’t stand it when people did it for him. He did it out of respect for those around him, and he was certain others did it for the same reason, but he could open the door himself, and he wanted to do so.
Once within reaching distance he put his arms out and touched the cool metal, pushing the doors open and walking down the same hall with one major difference. There was medical equipment littering the hall, being pushed around by Rev doctors and nurses. The relative health of a Rev was nearly as simple as that of a human, but a little bit more complicated because of the Syc wrapped around their hearts. Because Jenkins was the first and the serum had interacted with his blood in a way still unknown to the doctors of his race, the Syc’s venom flowed like tincture through his veins without the presences of the Syc at all. His body was the source of it and when he bit another to change them, that substance worked into their veins and morphed into the parasite. They still needed heart rate monitors and blood pressure cuffs because the Syc still caused their heart to beat to move the venom through the entirety of the human body. They no longer got sick with human ailments, even though a virus had begun to start to affect the Revs. They had three individuals in containment because of it to keep it from spreading as it was directly attacking the Syc parasite, which was why every individual needed to be properly tested to go on this mission to the nearby Station. He could not risk the virus spreading.
When he came around the corner to a nurse’s station, Doctor Gellar came from behind the curing dark wood desk, a few charts in her hands. She was flipping through the first one with a frown on her tinted face, the light shining gloriously on her bald head. He had turned her not too long after his initial change because he needed to feed and, when she divulged she was one of the best practitioners in the ways of parasites in the co
untry, he offered her a place with him. She had gladly taken it, knowing she could do some good for their new race to make certain they were healthy, and they thrived. And they were thriving. Now, if only they could keep a handle on their health and, as long as they could keep the virus in check, he knew she could.
She looked up, sensing he was coming near and smiled. “Well hello, Jenkins. How are you tonight?” She closed the chart she had been studying and stopped in front of him, furtively tugging at her rumpled lab coat.
“I’m quite all right, doctor. How are the patients infected with the virus?” he asked.
She waved her hand, telling him to come with her. He did so quietly and, as they came to the containment room, Jenkins looked through the large windows. All three patients were turning nearly lilac as the virus worked through their systems, each one in so much pain they had intravenous medications flowing into their veins, but the Syc made them nearly impervious to drugs. This meant that they were on an extremely high dose of Delotid and even that wasn’t touching the pain. They were writhing in their hospital beds, becoming a mass of twisted sweaty sheets.
“I’m not entirely sure what I can do for them besides keep them hydrated and comfortable, but they do need to feed. I would just hate to risk spreading the virus to any new transitions,” she explained as she hugged the charts to her chest. Worry was etched on her face, her brows drawn down in a frown and red tears brimming just along her eyelids.
“What about donors? Would that work?”
“If we want human donors maybe, but there isn’t a human alive that will let a Rev feed off them willingly, even if they’re sick. And then the virus will present in them when they change.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead in exhaustion as her gaze dropped to the floor at her feet. “The only way I can think of that we can do this is to kidnap a few humans and hook them up to take their blood by force and then transfuse it into the patients. Then they may have a chance, but we have no idea how much blood it would take to bring back their systems enough to possibly fight the virus.”
Zombified (Book 1): The Head Hunter Page 11