Eaters

by Michelle DePaepe

  “Has anyone checked her pulse, made sure she’s alright?”

  “Liz did a little while ago. We think she’s okay, just a little shell-shocked. If she doesn’t snap out of it tomorrow, we’re going to try to force some more water down her.”

  The woman’s eyes blinked once then she began mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. It sounded like a foreign tongue, but Cheryl suspected that it was just the mumbo-jumbo inside her brain. With all the horrors that had happened, she was surprised that more people hadn’t been reduced to such an incoherent vegetable state. It was just too much for some people to handle. Some had probably even decided to opt out of continuing to live, afraid that the world would never be the same again. It had certainly crossed her mind more than once, but Mark’s astral voice always popped up with a pep talk about going on.

  “Come on,” Matthew said, motioning them away. “There’s nothing we can do about her. She’s gone. Left the building. I figure she’s taking a mind vacation right now to some tropical island, sipping a drink out of a coconut with a little umbrella in it.”

  Cheryl hoped he was right, but as the woman’s body shuddered for a second, it seemed more likely that she was reliving the sights and sounds that she’d witnessed in the parking lot. She could easily imagine the nonstop soundtrack of screams and the movie reel filled with blood and gore. It was a movie that played in her mind far too often.

  When Matthew opened the door to the storage room and led them in, her eyes widened. It was a big room with shelves lining each wall, filled with everything from boxes of laundry soap to paper towels to edibles like cans of tuna and cases of fruit juice.

  He seemed to notice her awe and explained, “Dad buys a lot of stuff in bulk to get the best deals. It’s a good thing, because the delivery truck didn’t come yesterday.”

  Aidan stopped short in front of her and pointed at something just past a shelf full of motor oil on the left. Cheryl couldn’t figure out what he was looking at until she noticed something moving. She took a step around him and saw the hole in the wall with a grubby, gray mottled hand sticking through, feeling around the sides of the steel frame and broken sheetrock.

  “Don’t mind him,” Matthew said. “He sticks his hand through that hole every few minutes. I was using that as a smoke hole until he grabbed the cigarette right out of my hand. Took it by the cherry and didn’t even flinch. I named him Thing. You know, like in The Munsters?”

  Cheryl laughed. It was sort of funny, but only because it seemed like there was no chance that Thing could make the opening any larger and get in. Although, the way he frantically clawed around it, scratching at it with bloodied nails, made her a little nervous. It seemed like he was determined to find a way in, if he had to do it one chip at a time, and it took another sixty years. She felt her stomach lurch as she remembered the group of Eaters that managed to find a way into Aidan’s bear proof cabin.

  Aidan turned away from the sight as if he’d rather pretend that it wasn’t there. “Where’s the radio?”

  Matthew walked over to a small stool, hidden in the opposite corner. “Over here. We had to move it out of the store area, because some of the broadcasts were freaking people out. We didn’t want to turn it off, though. So, my Dad and I pop in here a lot to listen.”

  They gathered around the radio, and Cheryl heard soft static coming from it. “What stations have you gotten?”

  “Not many. AM reception is bad up here anyway, but I’ve gotten a couple of FM stations. KROY, the country station, had some panicked announcers on until late last night. They said their building was surrounded, and they were trapped. I don’t think they’re around any more. We got a Christian station this morning. There was a guy on it reading verses from the bible nonstop, but he stopped talking this morning. Then, there’s some jazz station that just keeps playing the same songs in an endless loop. No DJ ever comes on.”

  “That’s all?” Aidan asked.

  “That’s it, since yesterday.”

  “Let me try,” Cheryl said as she started to twirl the dial.

  To her dismay, she went up and down the row of stations and heard nothing but static. She flipped it to the AM band, and heard a shrill whine all the way across.

  Aidan brushed her hand away. “Go slower. You’re going too fast.”

  With a huff, she stepped back and let him try. He moved the dial just one hair’s breadth with each turn, backing up and going over each number multiple times, but they still heard nothing save the loud crackle of white noise.

  He flipped back to FM and did the same slow pan. Near the low end of the dial, there was a long shrill beep. Then another. And another…

  The man’s voice that came out was faint, and they leaned in to hear it.

  “…mergency Alert System. The following is a message from President Garcia.”

  There was a long worrisome pause then the sound of a man clearing his throat.

  “Citizens of the United States, this is your President, William Garcia. Our nation has witnessed an epidemic of apocalyptic proportions, and today my prayers go out to those of you who have lost friends and loved ones. Please be assured that our government is still functioning. Myself and those congressmen and congresswomen who have survived are in secured locations, and we are implementing plans to rebuild our command center as soon as conditions allow. Some cities have been able to establish shelters secured by the military, the National Guard, and local civilian groups. A list of these shelters will follow this broadcast. If you cannot get to a shelter, you are advised to remain in your home or dwelling until further notice. Do not venture outside. Do not draw attention to yourself. The infected are drawn to the sight, sound, and perhaps the smell of the uninfected. If you do suspect that someone has contracted the disease, medical experts confirm that the only recourse is to put that person down by—and it pains me to say this—a double gunshot to the head, to prevent him or her from attacking and infecting others. If you do not possess firearms, a bludgeon of some sort may be used, but it will only be effective if the brain is thoroughly destroyed.”

  Cheryl wanted to hug Aidan, to hug Matthew, somebody. It was good to know that there was still some government functioning, even if it was in more shambles than the President indicated. Both guys stared at the radio with slack jaws like it was some mythical idol come to life, espousing the new commandments.

  The President made a few more comments, warning that martial law had been enacted and civilians were to defer to all military personnel. He followed with what sounded like feeble attempts to reassure the population that everything would be okay, once most of the infected had been quarantined or eliminated.

  A woman’s voice with a British accent came on next, sounding much like the canned voice in a GPS device. “In Zone A, the following cities have verified secured shelters: Colorado Springs, Colorado; Killeen, Texas; Tucson, Arizona. In Zone B…”

  Cheryl jumped. “Tucson! They said Tucson!”

  Aidan shrugged. “So?”

  “So I told you, that’s where my father and my aunt live.”

  He stared at her for a second, his eyes hard like they were pondering if she’d lost her mind. “That’s a damn sight farther than Colorado Springs.”

  “I know…but,” she squeezed her temple then tried to catch his gaze again. “we can’t get down there without passing through Denver. You know how dangerous that would be. The city is a wasteland. It’s overrun. It wasn’t even on the list of cities with secured shelters.”

  Matthew didn’t seem to be listening to them. He shook his head with a bewildered look on his face. “Why didn’t he say what caused this to happen? Don’t they know? Or are they just not telling us?”

  “I don’t know,” Cheryl admitted.

  Aidan clasped his hands together and wrung them back and forth. “There’s a military base in the Springs…that’s why a shelter is there.”

  “So you want to go back through Golden and Denver then down south?” Her hands went to
her hips, without thinking about how childish and defiant she looked. “My life there is over. I’m not going with you.”

  Aidan yanked hard on one of her arms and pulled her away from Matthew, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Why should we go on a road trip to get somewhere hundreds of miles away when there’s a shelter just a couple of hours south of here? That’s just fucked! We should stay here until—”

  “We can’t stay here. This place is like an island in the middle of the wilderness. They’ll run out of supplies eventually, and before that happens, a pack of Eaters will find a way in. Or maybe it’ll be like one of those horror movies where the stress of the danger makes everyone inside turn on each other. Mary Ann is already gone. Liz will be the next one to crack. She’ll probably shoot everyone to send them to heaven once they’ve lost all hope of things turning around here.”

  Cheryl pictured each of those scenarios happening. As awful as they all were, based on her recent experiences, they were entirely possible. If the store didn’t hold or someone went nuts inside, she didn’t want to be there to witness it. It seemed like a better idea to make an attempt to find her family than to just cool their heels in this place and wait to die. With a pang of guilt, she also had to admit to herself that she’d rather be on the road with all its freedoms, feeling the power of the motorcycle underneath her, the wind whipping past her, and the adrenaline rush of holding the gun in her hands. It seemed to beat sitting and playing cards while waiting for the Grim Reaper to call her number.

  The radio broadcast started to repeat. Matthew fiddled with the dial again, and she pulled out her pilfered map, opened it and pointed. “It’s not that far. It’s not like we’d be trekking across the country. “

  “Tucson?” He paused and chuckled as if waiting for her to deliver some sort of punch line.

  “I want to find my family. You told me you don’t have any family left. Where else do you have to go? You heard the broadcast. There’s a shelter there. Maybe my dad is still alive.”

  “But you’re talking about what? A nine hundred mile trip? Are you kidding me? I’m not even sure if we can make it to the next town alive.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “If you won’t take me, I’ll take one of those cars in the parking lot.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Where have we been heading anyway? All we’ve been doing is running. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some final destination in mind instead of just running for our lives?”

  Aidan folded one arm across his middle and started tapping his forehead with a finger. “You’re talking about crossing over the Rockies. There’s no guarantee that the roads are clear. You saw that abandoned semi. It’d be a gamble.”

  She scoffed. “Is that your best excuse? We can make it through a maze of cars on your motorcycle. You know that.”

  “What about gas? We couldn’t be sure to find it when we need it. Every day we spend on the run is a risk.”

  He was right about the risks. She knew it, but it seemed vital to avoid being talked into heading towards a shelter in Colorado Springs. She imagined squatting on some military base for months or years until things returned to normal, never learning the fate of her family. She wanted to see them one last time, even if it turned out that they had been infected and were part of a mob of flesh eaters. At least then, she could grieve and move on. It was the not knowing that was killing her. She stayed firm in her resolve to keep heading towards Tucson, with or without Aidan.

  “Hey,” Matthew cleared his throat. “You guys bailing or something? I was kind of looking forward to some company that isn’t from the Jurassic age.”

  “Yes,” Cheryl said.

  Aidan said, “I don’t know,” at the same time.

  Matthew started pacing. “So the government is trying to get it together…maybe, but why didn’t they say what caused all this and how to avoid getting infected? That’s what bothers me the most. How do we know that any one of us isn’t going to come down with it and go all cannibal on the rest of us?”

  That was the ten thousand dollar question, wasn’t it? Cheryl decided not to tell him Mark’s story about the genetically modified dogs or the church lady’s story about the mosquitoes. Neither seemed to make complete sense, and she didn’t want to freak him out more with a bunch of theories.

  They left the storeroom to tell the others about the President’s broadcast. As they walked out, Cheryl glanced back at Thing. The hand was still for a second then it thrust itself through the wall as hard as it could, reaching its fingers out towards her. She chided herself for the morbid joke that popped into her head. Only Thing was willing to give her a helping hand…

  The news from the radio eased the minds of some, but there were a few more prayer sessions before dinner. Liz headed each one, and her strain was apparent in her quivering bottom lip as she read the Lord’s Prayer. After her pleas to God to end this period of tribulation, the women gathered together to scrounge up an assortment of food for dinner. They ended up with a buffet of corned beef hash, bean burritos, hot dogs, Moon Pies, and the last of the ice cream bars for dessert. Jonah said they needed to unplug the freezer, because it would draw too much power if they had to run the generator.

  The silence as they ate was unnerving. Occasionally, someone tried to make a lighthearted joke, and once there was a loud bang outside that no one bothered to investigate. The unspoken question in the group’s eyes was whether help would come before the food ran out. Cheryl tried to bolster spirits by telling them about the tank that she and Aidan had seen in Golden on a patrol mission to take out any infected it ran across, but she left out the part about the large group of Eaters that followed it. When she was prompted for more details about her experiences since the apocalypse began, she tried to be as vague as possible, knowing that there wasn’t any point in scaring them with graphic descriptions of zombies ripping people apart and gorging on them in a gruesome blood feast.

  After the group had sated themselves, there was a lot of stretching and yawning. A couple of the women decided to turn in early for the night, and Liz got up to check on Mary Ann.

  Norman slapped his belly. “That was a good Moon Pie. My wife never let me eat those. She said they’d clog my arteries. I guess that don’t matter much now if I’m going to meet my Maker soon. Hey, you two want to play a spot of Rummy?”

  Cheryl and Aidan shook their heads.

  “No thanks,” Cheryl said. She couldn’t imagine kicking back and playing cards at a time like this, but she almost envied this stoic group. While they were resolved that the end was near, and they would soon see the golden gates of heaven, she was still a jumble of nerves. It seemed dumb to just sit around and be doing nothing. They should be talking about defense methods and gun training, and working on fortifying the building to cover any weak spots. Somebody should be checking on Thing to make sure that he hadn’t made any progress in his quest to find a way in. After a second, she realized that Matthew hadn’t joined them for dinner and guessed that he might be in there, keeping an eye on the hole for lack of better entertainment.

  She glanced over at Aidan. He was still rooted to his stool with an empty paper plate at his feet, twisting his knuckles back and forth and popping them, glancing frequently towards the storefront windows.

  “What’s up?” she asked after Norman and the others began helping with the clean up.

  He lowered his voice. “I can’t leave my bike out there all night.”

  She wasn’t surprised at his concern. It was unlikely that anyone would steal it, and Eaters had no use for steel and chrome, but still, it was like an extension of him, and it was their only transportation. He wasn’t going to sleep a wink tonight not knowing if it was okay.

  “We have to get it in. It’s still a little light out. If you cover me with a gun, I can roll it in and park it in one of aisles.”

  “Should we ask Jonah?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Jonah or anyone else thinks about it. I want my bi
ke in here.”

  Down boy. Apparently, he’d been stewing on this for a while. She wondered why it took him this long to firm his resolve about it.

  “We won’t ask him then—we’ll tell him. I’d feel better if it was inside tonight too.”

  “Let’s do it quick. It’s dusk, and I’d prefer not to do it in the dark.”

  “Alright. Get my gun, and I’ll go find Jonah.”

  A minute later, she spotted Jonah through the open door of the bathroom, washing forks in the sink. She cleared her throat as she approached to avoid startling him. “Aidan is bringing his motorcycle inside.”

  A fork clinked into the sink as Jonah straightened up and seemed to register what she’d just said. “Oh…I don’t want to open that door.”

  “It’ll just be for a couple of seconds.”

  He dried his hand on a brown paper towel and stared at her. “I’ve seen them come close to that door. I haven’t wanted to scare anyone in here by telling them, but those things out there have tried the handle. It’s lucky you got in as easily as you did, because they lurk out there.”

  “Well, Aidan is going to bring his motorcycle in if he has to break a window to do it. He won’t spend the night in here without it.”

  Jonah stiffened and glanced into the hallway as if looking for an eavesdropper. “We’d better do it quick and not tell anybody. If Liz knew that I opened that door again, she’d give me a tongue lashing for the next few days and probably make it the next topic of a sermon. Can you wait a bit until most are playing cards or asleep?”

  “It’s almost dark. We can’t wait.”

  With a nod, Jonah followed Cheryl to the front of the store where Aidan was crouched, peeking through the gun hole in the window.

  “I’ll do it quick,” Aidan said as he stood.

  “You’d better. If we get caught, I’ll tell Liz you stole my key or forced me to give it to you.”

  Cheryl laughed. She wasn’t afraid of Liz. After the catfight with the smoking witch at the sandwich shop and nearly being choked to death by her in the church, whatever Liz could dole out would be kitten chow.