Chronicles of the Damned (Book 1): Lonely Girl

by Jeff Beeman

  B.B. comes around the front corner so fast that his back end seems to want to go one way while his front paws try to gouge holes in the concrete driveway until his front and back end finally come to a general agreement, then he takes a few more steps before flying at one of the cannibals who only has time to raise his rifle in a defensive block.

  Needless to say that being hit by a dog the size of B.B. is a lot to take on, so down goes the cannibal with B.B. trying to get a bite on him. While B.B. is taking care of one of them, the other cannibal is trying to move into position around me to shoot my dog so I do the only thing I can in that situation. I roll to my left, grab hold of his leg with both arms and sink my teeth into the middle of his shin. I can hear his yowl and naughty word over the other cannibal’s cries for help and B.B.’s growling. My stomach protests not because I have gotten in a physical confrontation but that my teeth don’t seem up the task of sending any of the pants leg down.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see something headed for my head. In response, I move my right arm and shoulder to protect my head just in time from the rifle butt. Still feels like my whole arm is almost removed from my body and I see enough stars to lose my bite grip and seems to force me to utter a sick sounding “ugh”. I now see two, then three times the images of the cannibal’s leg like when the mouse hits the cat’s head causing everything to ring and vibrate. Off in the distance I hear another naughty word followed by another roar then the leg begins to not only stop appearing in multiple images but also begins to fall. I don’t have much time to celebrate because the legs of the cannibal I bit have started to kick out in my direction, so to keep my head from being used as a soccer ball, I rolled quickly away to the other side of the driveway, away from the house, which is a big mistake as cold unforgiving pain bites into my right shoulder, which causes tears to blur my vision.

  When I can see again, the first cannibal B.B. attacked has gotten up and is about to shoot him. I roll on to my back, get my slingshot with my left hand as my right arm reaches out to find something to use as a rock. Pain grinds into my right shoulder as my hand finds something. Pushing past the pain, I hold onto the “rock” even as my right hand’s fingers start to tingle.

  The cannibal raises his rifle to fire.

  B.B. rips part of the other’s shirt near the neck as that cannibal yells out to shoot either the dog or him because he needs some kind of relief.

  I raise my slingshot but my right hand is not acting right. I can load the “rock” but can only hold on to it instead of drawback to fire. Instantly instead of drawing the “rock” back, I push my left hand out which causes the band to tighten, but the pain in my right shoulder gets so bad I let loose before I have aimed properly.

  All is lost.

  Now all I am able do is watch in slow motion B.B. being killed and then I am going to join him, Daddy, Momma, and the cats as the “rock” tumbles through empty space between me and the first cannibal with the rifle.

  I yell out loud B.B.’s name so he knows he is in my heart and thoughts before they end his life. I want Bouncy Bouncy right now! My poor sweet bunny is going to be so alone in the backpack.

  And still the “rock” tumbles to some destination...which turns out to be just above the right eye of the first cannibal, a second before he pulls the trigger.

  The rifle gouts out fire shrouded death! My ears begin to ring with sympathy for the bullet’s intended victim.

  There is a spark off the house and then a piece of the driveway explodes causing the second cannibal to scream another swear word and B.B. to yelp before he runs over to me with his short tail between his legs as well as he can do it and lays down next to me. I grab onto him as best I can with both arms and hug him and kiss his neck. I am embarrassed to say I was crying and leaving a little snot on his neck.

  As I bury my face in B.B.’s neck, I can hear the two cannibals swearing, the one standing with the rifle is doing it in general, while the other one who is still on the ground is directing his words at the first cannibal. From what I can gleam from what is said in between the heavy use of naughty words is that the second cannibal thinks that the first cannibal has to be the dumbest CBRN, whatever that is, in the country and it is their dumb luck for having him. This causes the first cannibal to direct his swearing towards the second cannibal. I am not sure how long they might have continued if one of them hadn’t noticed us because of B.B.’s growling. This causes them to stop yelling at each other. I turn to look at what they are doing now.

  Both turn their attention towards us. The first cannibal, who has the funny accent, almost aims his rifle at us but then stops. Now that he is facing us, I can see that what had seemed like a rock had been in reality a small hard dirt clod. It put a lot of stuff in his right eye so now he has trouble keeping it open. I can also see that B.B. has scratched his neck a lot. The second cannibal is getting up slowly. Once standing, he then feels the back of his head with his right hand. When he brings it back, I can see it has some blood on it. He then looks at his rifle and says another naughty word. Finally he brings his attention back on us and asks, “Are you going to keep that dog under control?!”

  I just glare at him from behind a growling B.B.

  “If you don’t, this useless S.O.B. is going to shoot him” he says as he points to the first cannibal. This causes the other cannibal to mouth something I suppose was naughty about the other. I would have normally blushed hearing all these words but I was too mad to even think about it.

  The second cannibal goes over to my backpack, opens it up then dumps my stuff on the driveway. He uses his boot to move things around until he comes to Bouncy Bouncy. It looks like he was going to step on him.

  “Don’t...touch...my...bunny!” I say in the scary way Daddy would say things after The Bad had come. I also try to make my gaze cold the same way Daddy would have when he was scary. B.B. must have picked on my attempt to protect Bouncy Bouncy because his fur starts to stand up and his growling get louder as he stands up on all fours and moves slightly to be between me and the cannibals.

  The second cannibal stops for a moment then takes a step back, as he moves his rifle towards us but keeps the barrel facing down. The first cannibal takes his eye off of us and looks over at the second before saying, “All right now! There is no reason for any more fighting. We all got off on the wrong foot that is all. Listen little girl, Bates over there isn’t going to hurt your bunny. Let’s all take a moment to calm down and get to know each other. My name is Eric Oliver and that is Tony Bates, what is your name?”

  I just glare at them.

  “You yelled out B.B. Is that your dog’s or the bunny’s name?”

  I just glare at them.

  “This is boring me to tears” exclaims Bates the cannibal. “Listen kid, you and your dog are going with us, so give up the slingshot”.

  I just glare at them.

  “All right brat, I’ll take it from you!” and with that Bates the cannibal begin to a step toward us which also puts him too close to Bouncy Bouncy’s head.

  As fast as I can, I drop my slingshot and with my left hand reach across myself to where my Papa's big hunting knife is on my utility belt. B.B. prepares himself to launch another attack at the same instant the second cannibal raises his rifle to shoot B.B.

  Then there is an unexpected boom, which causes B.B. to yelp and my ears to ring again!

  The three of us all stop and look at the source which is the first cannibal who has just shot up into the air.

  “Now that I have you three idiots’ attention!” He calmly says, “Let’s come to an understanding. Young lady, if you don’t get your dog under control, he is going to be shot by either me or Bates. I do not want to do that but if that animal continues to attack please make no mistake, I will shoot that dog dead! Now if you will please give up your sling shot and whatever else you have on that belt that is a weapon, we will peacefully turn over your bunny to you. You have my word.”

  “You’re a cannibal like Dan
so we’ll not go down without a fight!” I declare in defiance with my left hand on the knife handle.

  For the moment they just stare at us as we glare and growl back at them.

  “Why do you think we are cannibals?” dumbly asked Oliver the cannibal.

  “And who is Dan?” asks Bates the cannibal

  “Because the person said you’re on a cannibal run after you told them you are looking for survivors!” I shout at them. I’m starting to see red and B.B. is getting madder and madder also.

  Another moment pass with them staring stupidly at us as we angrily glare and growl harder back at them.

  Then they take us by complete surprise!

  Cannibal Bates starts laughing out loud as cannibal Oliver simply closes his one eye, lowers his head and just shakes his head gently back and forth.

  After a bit cannibal Oliver clears his throat as cannibal Bates keeps laughing and says, “We are going to Bates’ cousin’s house to see if there are some parts we need to get our bobtail truck running again. A cannibal run is military jargon meaning to go out and find any useful parts.”

  “Well what is GOFO?” I asked

  “Above your paygrade kid!” snickers Bates. “Listen, we are not going to eat you or your dog. Christ kid, we are shocked to find you out here. We thought the mid-cities was a dead zone months ago. Where are your parents or the people you’re with?”

  I guess my face gives them the answer. Both men look at me then each other. Mr. Oliver keeps his one eye from looking at me while Mr. Bates thinks about something, then eventually nods.

  He begins carefully putting everything back into my backpack like we learned in Girl Scouts, except for Bouncy Bouncy. He gently picks up my bunny, dusts him off and offers him to me. I let go of Papa’s hunting knife handle, stand up, and walk around B.B. so I can hold on to his harness with my left hand. We then got over to Mr. Bates and I try to take Bouncy Bouncy with my right hand but pain take another bite out of me. I wince and whimper due to it. Bates slowly holds out his hand till I take Bouncy Bouncy with my left hand.

  Both men look at each other again till Mr. Oliver turns his attention back to me and say, “We are part of those who took the home guard duty when headquarters called for the redistribution of forces. We are part of the Texas state guard 4th brigade also known as the Panther City Fencibles. Why don’t you come with us back where our caravan is so your arm can be looked at? We can also give you and your dog some food.”

  This time the pain in my arm wouldn’t ease. I know we can’t run fast enough or fight hard enough because they have rifles. I came to this house because I had thought the flag pole was a sign. Obviously none of this went the way I would have imagined it would but here we are. I am hurt and our options are limited. The living don’t play by the rules but maybe, just maybe we can use that to our advantage if B.B., Bouncy Bouncy and I keep are eyes and ears open.

  Tiredly I shake my head yes.

  Mr. Bates responds with, “I will carry your backpack, kid, but I promise to give it back once we get back with the others.”

  Again I tiredly just shake my head yes. My strength is leaving me and I have to have help from B.B. to walk. I hope these guys don’t see this sign of weakness. If they do, they are nice enough not to show it.

  When we get to the truck, Mr. Oliver tries to pick B.B. up to put him in the bed of the truck but B.B. snaps at his face. Mr. Bates says to the surprised Mr. Oliver as he is heading to the driver side door, “You might want to just lower the tail gate and have the girl get him to jump into the bed.”

  He does and I sit on the tailgate to call B.B. up to me. Without effort he jumps up there and it is the first time I notice blood dripping from his mouth. I try to get him to open his mouth but all I manage is pulling his mouth flap up. I can see one of his teeth is missing. My attention is taken away from B.B.’s mouth injury by Mr. Bates swearing at B.B.

  Mr. Oliver asks, “What in Heaven’s glory has got you riled up this time?”

  “That freaking dog has peed all over the passenger side of the dash board and did his other business on the arm rest when he got the back window sliding glass open!” angrily replied Mr. Bates.

  Taking a relaxed position in the bed of the truck, Mr. Oliver simply says back to the other, “Good thing I need to stay back here and watch over our new friends. Enjoy yourself up there” all the time his smile naturally got bigger. Mr. Bates casually informs Mr. Oliver, that he considers him to be the back side of a donkey as he get into the truck. Soon we are heading down the street.

  What a strange sensation it is to be in a moving vehicle. Feeling the wind rush past me as we sit on the tail gate. I marvel as the lot of dust comes off of me in a little brown cloud trail. My hair wasn’t able to fly around because of the cobwebs stuck in it, though. B.B. is enjoying himself. Instead of facing the wind as I have seen other dogs do, he just lays down next to me with my right arm resting on him. Doing this helps it feel better though I am sure Mr. Bates is wondering what was loose in the bed due to how loud B.B.’s tail thumps against the truck’s bed. I almost for the briefest of moments feel like I have left the now and gone back to before The Bad.

  We drive down Arthurs Circle for a few blocks till we reached where Norman Lane meets up with it. We slow down till we are even with the house on the corner of the two streets. Anyone could tell that it had been searched and in an angry way. I can hear Mr. Bates say another naughty word. Mr. Oliver simply looks the area over. The people who had burnt down the other area had been here also because there were some of the same sprayed symbols here and there. One of them looked to be a weird version of the Texas state flag but the colors are wrong.

  I hear Mr. Bates turn on the radio and say, “Recon to command.... Recon to command, over”

  “Command, over”

  (Command is the same person from last time, I think to myself)

  “Found survivor and pet, repeat one survivor found and pet, over”

  “Confirmed report of survivor. Please advise if they are on the right or left side? Over”

  “Feisty but on the right side. Over”

  “Understood. Status of your cannibal run? Over”

  “Status is black, repeat status is black. Over”

  “Return to start point for review of survivor and new mission. Command out.”

  “Well, little miss, get ready to see the caravan.” simply stated Mr. Oliver.

  Chapter Ten

  Contact or Bust

  Funny how I should be really excited to be riding in the bed of a truck. Instead I feel sleepy even with my arm and shoulder hurting right now. If I took the nap right now, it feels like it would be a nice relaxing sleep. The weather is just the right kind of warm, the vibrations of the moving truck feels soothing. With Mr. Bates, Mr. Oliver, and B.B. around, Bouncy Bouncy and I feel reassured that we could just lay down to sleep and it would be okay. Sure the day is our time but this is way outside how a normal day goes. At this moment, all seems all right with the world, which is a feeling I am now just realizing that I had forgotten. I sleepily enjoy it until my stomach growls loudly as it cramps which causes me to tense up. This then causes my right arm and shoulder to really hurt again. Jiminy Cricket, this sucks like boiled cabbage with meatballs, I think in the most un-lady like fashion.

  To take my mind of the pain, I think about Mr. Bates and Mr. Oliver. They both about the same height which is shorter than Daddy, though Mr. Oliver might just be a pinch taller than Mr. Bates. They are wearing the same type of clothes, jackets, shirts, hats and pants that have a sort of white, grey, and some other color that make a weird camouflage pattern. Their boots are just plain old boots. Both of them have beard stubble and from what I have seen of it and under the hair around their hats, Mr. Oliver is what I think is called a dirty blond, while Mr. Bates has black hair. Both have brown eyes. I think they are both younger than Daddy. Mr. Bates looks tougher and more tan, sort of like the guys who worked on their cars in the parking lot of our apartment compl
ex. Mr. Oliver looks more like he would be comfortable with a book in his hand as he reads in a comfortable chair.

  When we slow down to move around an abandoned car, I realize we have made it to the intersection of Cummings and Central. This is where the YMCA is, the one that I used go to for my gymnasium classes after school on Thursdays. I used to love going here because of all the different things going on and people. I would to talk to Mrs. Forester who was a grandmother of three boys. She went to the Silver Yoga class for beginners to help her back. She would tell me stories about how things were when she was a little girl and how her grandsons were doing. I would tell her how Momma was doing, what I had been doing since last we saw each other and any funny things the cats had done. She once said I was like a granddaughter to her and I felt the same. Those are the good memories I have of what the YMCA was like before The Bad.

  Now, it is a sad place with broken windows, rotting overturned tables and the occasional white bones scattered about on the cracked sidewalks or parking lot with dead weeds that had started growing in places during the last spring and summer. An old banner still partially hangs near the parking lot entrance that says this was Resource and Medical Center Site number eighteen.

  Next to the YMCA is an elementary school that I didn’t go to. Instead of students, there are the remains of tents that can no longer keep the weather out, a lot of old shreds of faded clothing, rusting camping gear, scattered personal items, and more bones mixed with the dead grass. As I look over what was the playground, my eyes lock onto a big teddy bear that is sitting up on a bare area. It is facing the street, sitting by itself. Unlike when Bouncy Bouncy is sitting up, the teddy bear is leaning to the right like he is tired. I can see that his fur is worn down and his stuffing must be bad but his large golden eyes are so clear and longing as he keeps vigil with the remains of those who once were and the longing to be with those who loved him but who he is unable to join. He is the only witness of what The Bad had brought here. Now he waits with no hope, no chance, no other fate but to be alone with the remains of the dead as he waits his turn. I hold Bouncy Bouncy tight to my chest with my left arm and this time let silent tears fall for the lone teddy bear survivor as we pass on.