by Tim Waggoner
David glared at him. “Stay the fuck out of my head.”
Simon smirked. “Good luck with that.”
David turned back to look at the crowd that had gathered in front of Country Time Buffet. The SUV fire had mostly burned itself out by this point, but noxious-smelling black smoke still curled up into the air. Jimmy’s body was little more than a charred skeleton now, his bones having been picked clean by the attendees at David’s impromptu barbecue. A fight had broken out over who would get to enjoy the last few bits of Mr. Meat, with the result that a couple additional bodies had been added to what remained of the fire. They, too, had been stripped down to their bones, and now everyone was standing and staring at him. They seemed curious, but content to wait for David to begin speaking in his own time. But now that they were here, he wasn’t certain what to say.
He felt a connection to each and every one of them, and if he wanted to, he could see them three different ways now—as people, as leather-skinned mockeries or as points of yellow-white light, just as he had on the hospital’s Medulla level. Something had happened to him in that strange dark chamber, but he wasn’t sure what.
“You connected to your inner cannibal and became King of the Flesh Eaters,” Simon said. “But just because you now wear a metaphorical crown doesn’t mean you automatically know what to do with it. If you want them to follow you, you’ll have to convince them.”
Simon concentrated, trying to force his cotton-swaddled brain to cough up something, anything, that he could say that would get these people to join him, but he came up empty. Steve, Lizzie, and now Jimmy—all dead—and Sarah, held captive by the demons at their stronghold. How much longer would she survive? How many more of them would the demons slaughter? How many more would die at the hands of their own people because of the madness that had infected them? It had to stop! If only he could find the words…
He lowered his head, feeling defeated, and as he did, he saw a drop of crimson splatter to the sidewalk. At first he thought the blood had fallen from one of the cuts he’d sustained when the SUV exploded, but then that drop was followed by more. Just a few at first, but before long it became a steady downpour, and David realized it was raining blood.
He raised his head and saw the people gathered in the parking lot were covered with crimson, and they tilted their heads back, mouths opened wide, to let the gore rain pour down their throats. The sight disgusted David. He remembered hearing somewhere that turkeys were so stupid that when it rained, they would tilt their heads back the same way to drink, only they would stand there and keep on drinking until they drowned. He didn’t know if this was true or just a bit of country folklore, but it didn’t matter. The rage that accompanied the thought was what he needed.
“Look at you!” he shouted. “You’re acting like mindless animals! Worse than animals, because you feed on each other when you can’t find other food!”
“Cannibalism is hardly uncommon in the animal kingdom…” Simon began to say, but David shot him a threatening look, and the youth closed his mouth and mimed zipping his lips shut.
“Do any of you remember the way the world used to be? The way you used to be?”
He heard himself speaking words, but he also heard inarticulate grunts and growls coming out of his mouth. And he felt himself communicating with the crowd in a manner that was deeper than words. Not telepathic, exactly. It was more primal than that, and far stronger because of it.
A few in the crowd, maybe a dozen or so, stopped drinking and lowered their heads to face him. They were followed by several dozen more, and still more, until finally the entire blood-slick assemblage was looking at David.
He continued, raising his voice to be heard as the blood rain intensified. “Something happened. Something bad. I don’t know what, but it changed our world…changed us. We live in a dead, decaying town, we’re always starving, and we’re hunted by red-eyed demons that move lightning fast. They shoot us for sport, and leave us to rot where we fall. They’re cruel and inhuman, and they won’t rest until they’ve destroyed every last one of us!”
He thought of the female demon he’d encountered on the school playground, the one who’d helped him save Lizzie. She could’ve killed them at any moment, but she hadn’t. And he’d felt an undeniable connection to her, one that was similar to what he felt with the people surrounding him, but deeper and stronger, and somehow more natural. Comfortable, even.
The she-demon probably had her own unfathomable reasons for sparing him and Lizzie that had nothing to do with kindness. Maybe it was part of some devious scheme that was ultimately meant to hurt them. And if for some unknown reason she had spared them out of kindness, she was likely an exception. Just because one demon had shown an ounce of humanity didn’t mean the rest of them would.
“Is this how you want to live? Roaming the streets in a never-ending hunt for food and being picked off one by one whenever the demons feel like getting in a little target practice?”
Up to this point the crowd—including Maribel and Lindsey—had listened to him with blank expressions. But now some of them began to frown. But only some. David could tell by the number of empty gazes directed at him that he wasn’t getting through to most of them. Worse, he could feel the majority of the crowd beginning to get restless. He knew that if he couldn’t snag hold of their attention soon, they would lose interest and begin to wander off.
“I know where the demons live, and there are far more of us than there are of them. If we attack them, given our sheer numbers, there’s no way they can stop us. Guns or no guns, we’d overwhelm them. And once they’re defeated, we’ll be able to move about the town safely. We’ll be free. Isn’t that what you want?”
Some in the crowd were nodding now, but not many. Most were looking around as their minds—what remained of them, anyway—began to wander.
Simon mimed an unzipping gesture across his mouth. “A for Effort, David, but there’s only one way to reach the hearts of this bunch. And that’s through…”
David once more recalled his vision of the Gyre and the lesson it had taught him. In the end, everything came down to hunger and, more importantly, to feeding that hunger.
“Through their stomachs,” David whispered. He raised his voice again. “There are nearly a hundred demons living in the same place! Think of all that meat!”
The crowd’s gazes fixed on him with the intensity of a starving dog staring at a raw steak being dangled before its eyes.
“I can lead you to the demons and, once there, each of you will have enough meat to fill your bellies to bursting!”
No one responded right away, and David feared he had failed. But then a man in the middle of the crowd raised his fist and shouted, “Fuck yeah!” As if a dam had broken, the entire crowd erupted in shouts and cheers.
Simon smiled at David. “Good work, Tarzan. You ready to lead your apes into battle?”
David thought of Sarah. How long had she been a prisoner of the demons? What had they done to her during her time in captivity?
Without responding, David stepped off the sidewalk and started walking toward the street, his feet splashing through puddles of blood as crimson rain continued to fall around him. He didn’t have to look back to know that the others followed.
I’m coming, Sarah, he thought. Just try to hold on a little longer.
The Council decided to hold the memorial service for Joe in the gymnasium. Normally such services were held in the cafeteria, but this was Joe, and the Council thought his passing deserved to be marked in a more special way. The gym—along with the school’s weight room—was used for the survivors’ recreation and exercise needs. Even though it was on the ground floor, it was one of the most defensible places in the school. Its long, rectangular windows were set close to the ceiling, and, even better, it was located in the middle of the building, far from any outside entrance.
Still, not many people used it. The children did, what few of them there were, but most of the adults were too depre
ssed to bring themselves to exercise. Kate wished they would, as exercise produced endorphins that improved mood, but she didn’t blame them. After the world had ended, who felt like throwing around a basketball?
It had started raining not long ago, and the sound of water hitting the roof and pattering against the windows provided a more fitting soundtrack to the ceremony than any music ever could. People sat on the bleachers, and even though almost everyone was present, there were still more empty seats than there were mourners.
Although Kate knew—or at least hoped—there were other survivors out there somewhere, sometimes she imagined these were all the people left in the world. The thought always scared the shit out of her. If they were all that remained, they could fuck like rabbits day and night, and they still wouldn’t be able to repopulate the world, especially not with a planet full of zombies out there, eager for them to breed fresh meat. Within a few decades at most, they’d probably all be dead or zombified, and humanity would be officially extinct. So she had to believe there were other survivors elsewhere. Otherwise, what was the point of going on?
The Council had brought a lectern from somewhere and placed it in the middle of the gym floor, facing the bleachers. They’d also set up a dozen metal folding chairs behind the lectern for themselves and anyone else who was going to be speaking at the service. There were seven members on the Council, and three nonmembers, including herself, scheduled to speak.
The two remaining seats were for a middle-aged couple. The man had been a professor of music at the college and played guitar, and his wife had directed the choir at one of the churches in town. They were a normal fixture at celebrations and memorial services. The husband played beautifully, and while his wife’s talent didn’t equal his, she was kind of hot, so Kate didn’t mind.
Even though she and Marie weren’t formally in a committed relationship yet, she felt a twinge of guilt for thinking about how attractive the guitar man’s wife was. She knew it was okay to look, as long as you didn’t touch, but even so, it felt disloyal to be ogling the woman.
She wished she’d been able to see Marie before the service, but she couldn’t find her. She scanned the bleachers looking for her, but even when it was sunny out, the light in here wasn’t the greatest, and with it raining outside, the gym was even gloomier than usual. A number of people held lit candles, and a pair rested on the lectern, but none of them provided enough light for Kate to be able to make out the facial details of those sitting in the bleachers. She tried to identify Marie by her basic body type, but there were a number of petite women among the survivors, and she couldn’t tell which—if any—might be Marie. Everyone was skinny these days.
Part of her worried that Marie wasn’t here at all, that she was purposely avoiding the memorial service because she’d started having second thoughts about embarking on a relationship with her. She told herself she was being foolish. Even if Marie had been having a romantic version of buyer’s remorse, she wouldn’t skip the service. Joe meant more to her than that.
She didn’t see Nicholas, either. He hadn’t been best buddies with Joe, but he’d worked just as closely with him as any Ranger. Nicholas might not have been the sentimental type, but he was good about observing social conventions, almost compulsively so, and it wasn’t like him to miss a memorial service, especially one where he’d been asked to speak. Maybe she was having trouble picking him out of the crowd, just as with Marie. Or maybe there was a reason they both weren’t here.
I’m bi.
She told herself not to go down that road. She had no reason to think that Nicholas and Marie were off somewhere screwing. In the entire time she’d known Nicholas, he’d shown absolutely no interest in women—or men, for that matter—and she’d come to view him as asexual. But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he’d had his eye on Marie for a while, and when he realized that she’d hooked up with her last night, he’d decided to make a move before it was too late.
Stop it! Just. Stop. It.
It wasn’t as if she and Marie were married. Hell, given how few people were left alive, exclusive relationships might well be a thing of the past, for practicality’s sake, if nothing else. Still, it would be nice if she and Marie could make some kind of future together—even if the world might not have one. Especially if it didn’t.
Rich Detmer, the unofficial head of the Council, stood and walked to the podium. The crowd, which had been whispering among themselves, fell silent. Rich was a thin, white-bearded man in his seventies who moved with the grace and confidence of a much younger man. He’d been a semiretired lawyer before Blacktide, and when the Council needed to speak to the survivors as a group, the duty usually fell to him.
He gripped the sides of the podium and scanned the crowd before beginning.
“I first met Joe Robbins the day Gail Bautista brought a handful of survivors, including me, here to the high school. Most of you remember Officer Bautista, I’m sure. During those first few horrible weeks after Blacktide hit, she took it upon herself to find and rescue as many survivors as she could. Like so many of you, I would not be alive today if it hadn’t been for Gail’s bravery. It was a sad day when I had to speak at her memorial service, but in many ways, the duty I have today is even sadder, for while Gail got so many of us to this place, it was Joe who helped make it a home for us.”
Rich continued on like that, and while Kate tried to pay attention, she found her mind wandering. She’d attended too many similar services since last March, and despite her best efforts, she’d become numb to them. INSERT NAME HERE was so special, so loved, such a vital part of our community, that it’s impossible to imagine life going on without them…The speeches were always the same, almost word-for-word, and she wondered if anyone paid attention anymore, the eulogizers included.
She still wasn’t sure what to say when her turn came. Thanksgiving was coming up, and the Council had been debating whether or not the survivors should celebrate it. Maybe she could use that as a way to work into—
“Thanksgiving will soon be upon us,” Rich said. “There’s been talk of not celebrating this year. We’ve all lost so much, it’s hard to find something to be thankful for. Indeed, the idea of being thankful in this new world we find ourselves living in might seem almost ridiculous, if not downright crazy.”
Kate sighed. So much for that idea. Rich went on in that vein for a while, and she tuned out again. She scanned the crowd once more, searching for Marie, but didn’t find her. She started feeling…not drowsy, exactly, but lightheaded. Almost dizzy. Her vision swam, and she feared she was going to faint. Too much stress lately. Finding David, Joe dying, hooking up with Marie… It was a lot, and it was only natural that she—
She was walking down the middle of a ruined street, asphalt cracked and broken. Abandoned vehicles, rusty and mold-covered, blocked the way, and she had to periodically detour around them. Red rain fell from a pus-yellow sky, coating her with sticky crimson, but she didn’t care. In fact, she rather liked it. It felt as if she were covered with red war paint, which was only appropriate, as she was heading into battle.
But she wasn’t heading into it alone. At her side walked a teenage boy who somehow remained untouched by the rain. As impossible as that feat was, it didn’t seem strange to her. What did seem strange was that the boy bothered to walk when he simply could’ve vanished and been waiting for her at their final destination, as was his habit. Perhaps he walked because he recognized the importance of this journey. Or, more likely, he had his own reasons for doing so. Either way, she was grateful for his presence. Maddening as he could be at times, he’d been the one constant she’d known in this nightmare existence she’d found herself living, and having him at her side comforted her.
But it wasn’t just the two of them making this journey. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a long line of men, women and children following in her wake. All were covered in blood water, and all displayed the same mix of emotions on their faces: anger, determination and, above all, hunge
r. As they walked, more joined the parade, emerging from wrecked vehicles, dark alleys and dilapidated buildings, all drawn by her, almost as if she were a siren luring them forth with a silent song she herself wasn’t fully aware of singing.
She sensed that her companion, the boy who could walk between raindrops, was looking at her, and she turned to face him. He gave her a savage grin, and said, “We’re coming to get you, Katherine.”
“—Croft, who will now say a few words. Kate?”
Kate looked around, disoriented and on the verge of panic. Then she remembered where she was and calmed down. She was glad that the lighting was so bad in here. It was doubtful anyone had noticed her near freak-out in the gym’s gloom. But even if they had, they’d hopefully attribute it to grief over Joe’s death.
What the hell had that been? She had no idea why she might imagine such a bizarre scene. Imagine? No, it had felt more real than that, as if she’d actually been there, leading an ever-growing group of people through a rain of blood. The thing that bothered her the most was the kid, the one the blood rain didn’t touch. The one who reminded her so much of Simon…Milligan! That was his last name. She’d seen him before—or maybe hallucinated him might be more accurate. Back at the school playground when she’d last seen David. For a moment she’d seen her brother as he’d been before Blacktide, and she’d seen the same teenager standing next to him then.
It’s just stress, she told herself. Given what all of them had been through over the last several months, it was a wonder any sanity remained to them.
She remembered what Marie had said to her, about how her twin link with David might still be intact. If that was true, then maybe she had hallucinated, but through her brother’s eyes. So if what she’d experienced had some basis in reality, did that mean David was leading a…what? An army of zombies? And if so, where was he leading them?
We’re coming to get you, Katherine.
The memory of the boy’s words pierced her like needles of ice. It was probably nothing, but if there was even a chance her brother was leading zombies to the high school, then she had to—