“It’s not that bad here. Well… it wasn’t.” Tammy corrected herself.
“He didn’t mean it like that,” Chad said.
“It’s okay. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Most of our year was desperate to get away too. I just happen to like it here,” she said, busying herself with collecting the dishes.
“Here, let me help you.” He grabbed them from her hand, taking them to the counter. “I’ll wash, and you can dry.” He tossed a tea-towel at her with a grin.
“You don’t have to. I can do it,” she said. “It’s the least I can do. I know I wasn’t much help yesterday.”
“Are you kidding?” He stared at her in disbelief. “When Harper broke down, I had no idea what to do. You just handled it. And when you sang at the burial, I know that meant a lot to those two.” He grabbed her hands. “You’re helping out more than you know, just by being here.”
Tammy blinked away the tears forming in her eyes, and folded herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“We all have our parts to play. Now,” he leaned back, tilting her chin up, so he could look into her eyes, “these dishes won’t do themselves.” He winked, placing a kiss on her forehead before turning to the sink.
HARPER
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Harper stood watching them at the sink. Her sister was dead, and they were standing there, flirting, as if nothing had happened. She knew it was irrational to feel angry at them, after all, they hadn’t actually known Millie, but would it hurt to show a little consideration? Was that too much to ask?
Unable to stomach watching them anymore, she stepped through to the lounge. Zuckerman was laying all of his gear out on the table, sorting it into some semblance of order. It appeared they would be doing some travelling today.
She looked to Zeke, searching his eyes for some answers. Surely he wasn’t ready to leave her sister behind already? The pity she saw, told another story.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Just for a little while. They need to make sure their families got out.” Her bottom lip quivered and she bit down to hide it, but not before he noticed. “We won’t be long, I promise. I feel I owe it to them to help.”
Harper’s eyes filled with tears, but still she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Will you be okay here?” he asked, reaching for her hand. “I can stay if you want me to.”
“No. I’ll be alright. You go. Just be careful,” she sighed. “Make sure you come back in one piece. And alive.”
“We will.” He walked over to the window, grabbing one of the guns that leant up against the wall. “Here, you keep this one with you. Just in case you need it.”
“Thanks.” She propped it against the side of the chair. “Do you mind if I have a shower before you leave? I never got a chance yesterday.” She motioned to her blood-stained clothes and hands.
“Of course. Towels are in the hall cupboard.”
In the bathroom, she slowly peeled off her shirt and jeans, dropping them in the sink to wash later. She peered at her reflection, noting the dark lines under her eyes. Her hair was matted with blood, and chunks of God-only-knew-what, hung from the strands around her face. Her cheeks were smeared with dirt, and her eyes were rimmed with red. She looked a mess.
Stepping under the steady stream of hot water, she allowed herself to relax, even if for just a moment. She hadn’t realised how tense she had been.
With the water cascading over her body, she set to work scrubbing off all of the reminders of the day before, using a loofah she had found. She rubbed and buffed away any remnants, continuing until her skin was almost raw. Dropping her head, she watched until all the muddy water had drained away.
She swathed herself in a towel, and began pulling clothes out of her bag. Her hand wrapped around the pendant necklace that her parents had given her. She and Millie had one each, both with a picture of their parents and sister enclosed. She sat on the edge of the bath, and opened the locket. She ran her finger over the pictures of her family, smiling as she remembered the day they had taken those photos. Millie, of course, had been singing the entire time. Her mother had been perched on her father’s lap, and he had tickled her every time they’d tried to take the shot. You could just make out the mischievous glint in his eye, and the beginnings of a laugh on her face. It was her favourite picture of the two of them.
Fastening the clasp behind her neck, she felt more at ease. It was as though she was carrying them with her.
She finished dressing and went back out to the lounge to join the others. Tammy had been busy preparing lunch for them to take, and had even made some for her. She felt a twinge of guilt for thinking that they didn’t care.
Zeke and the boys had gone out to the shed to set the traps. They were hoping there would be something in them by the time they got back. It was the only thing they had to go on.
She walked them out to the car and helped them load their bags. They assured her they would return before dark.
She watched the cloud of dust follow them down the road, until she couldn’t see them anymore. She was alone. Again.
ZUCKERMAN
“We’ll go to your place first, Z,” Chad said, directing Zeke to where he knew his house to be.
“Whatever,” he muttered back, gazing out the window at the empty houses. There seemed to be even more bodies lying around now. Flesh-eaters were roaming aimlessly, or feeding on the fallen bodies.
“Don’t give up before we even get there, it’s only been a day,” Chad said, turning to face him.
“Come on, man. You really think my old man got off his ass to get away? You think he finally awoke from his booze-addled sleep to whisk Ma to safety? Please.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “You know, as well as I do, they’re probably both one of them already.”
“How can you say that?” Tammy demanded. “They’re your parents!”
“He’s a drunk, and she’s an addict. They stopped parenting a long time ago,” he snapped.
Zeke met eyes with Tammy in the rear vision mirror, her mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m sorry,” she stuttered.
“Don’t be. You didn’t know. How could you? I bet you had the perfect up-bringing; white picket fence and all that shit,” Zuckerman said sarcastically.
She faced him, her chin raised in defiance. “My parents died in a car accident when I was seven. My Gram raised me.”
“Oh shit, sorry. I…”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. How could you?” she repeated back to him, turning to look out the side window.
“Nice one, Z,” Chad chastised. “Tammy? You okay?”
“I’m fine. It happened a long time ago, I don’t really remember much about them.” She looked back at Zuckerman. “I know you think your parents are arseholes, but at least they were there. I’d give anything to have my parents here with me.” He had no come-back for that. She was right. They were always there, even if they chose to emotionally check out most of the time, they were still there.
It hadn’t always been that way. They had been a normal, happy family when he was younger. Like Tammy’s, his parents had been in an accident too, only they’d survived. His mother had smashed her head into the windscreen so hard that she had permanent headaches. The doctors couldn’t give her anything for it. That was when she started ‘self-medicating’. It was the only thing that helped her forget the agonising pain in her head. She was only ever ‘straight’ enough to get to the shop for ciggies or another hit.
Taking care of his drugged-up wife became too hard for his father to handle, so he turned to the drink. They both lost their jobs and were on welfare. The little money they had was used for their next fix, leaving hardly any for food or clothes. Zuckerman had had to steal on more than one occasion. Not a fact he was proud of. He had taken a job over the summer to pay for all his new football gear.
That was the main reason he had been on
the bus that morning. The scholarships on offer were his ticket to a life of normalcy and freedom.
“I’m sorry, Tammy. I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” he said sincerely. “You wanna go check on your Gram first? I don’t mind.”
“She called me when it first started. The retirement village where she lives now, were evacuating. They had buses taking them to safety.”
“Right. Good. Guess we’ll keep going to mine then,” he said, defeated. “Turn down here.” As much as he didn’t want to see them, it looked as though he was going to have to. He would look like a right jackass if he abandoned them now.
They pulled up outside his house. No-one said a word as they took in the run-down shack in front of them.
For the first time in a long time, he was embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess,” he tugged his cap down further on his head. He climbed out of the car, the others in tow. They picked their way through the debris scattered over the overgrown lawn, and up to the veranda. “Watch your step,” he cautioned, pointing out the buckled wood. “My father stopped caring about this place when he started drinking.”
“It’s okay, Z, no-one’s judging you,” Chad said.
“Yeah, sure.” He knew his place didn’t compare to Zeke’s loving family home. There were no pictures on the walls, or knick-knacks on the shelves. There wasn’t any baking filling the cupboards, or food in the fridge.
Instead, what wallpaper they had, was peeling off the walls. There were cigarette burns on the carpet. None of the furniture matched and it was all covered in stains. The smell of mould and stale cigarette smoke hung in the air.
This was why he didn’t bring friends home. Chad was the only one who had met his parents, and that was purely by accident. He had managed to get through his entire high school years without one friend finding out how he really lived. Until now.
He led them up the steps and through the front door that had been left wide open. Walking in single file, scanning every inch of the place for threats, they made their way through to the last place he had seen his father – the couch.
“No-one’s here,” he said, kicking at the leg of the couch.
“It doesn’t mean they’re…you know. Maybe we should look out back?” Chad said.
“Knock yourself out.” He laughed without humour, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen. “There’s not much to see out there, except dirt and a fence.”
“Do you want to grab any of your stuff while we’re here?” Tammy suggested, twisting a strand of hair around her finger nervously.
“Yeah, maybe I will.” He ambled across the hall to his room. It was the one room that was tidy. His bed was neatly made and his clothes were folded away in his dresser. Beside his bed, there was a silver frame with a picture of his family before the accident.
He looked down at the clothes he was wearing, they were filthy. A fresh pair of clothes would be nice. He went to his closet to grab a bag, stopping when he heard the shuffle of feet.
“Hello?” he said, taking a step closer. “Who’s in there?”
A sniff, followed by a whimper.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached out, gripping the handle. Taking a deep breath, he pulled it open. A set of crazed eyes met his. “Ma?” She was curled in a ball in the bottom of the closet, cowering away from him. “Ma? It’s me.” He crouched down.
“Get away from me!” She kicked out her foot, missing her target. She tried to back further into the closet, but her back was already against the wall.
“Jesus, Ma, are you high?” he growled. He could hardly be angry with her. She needed drugs to escape her everyday life, so why would he expect any better now? She continued scrambling to get away from him, her legs and arms flailing as he tried to grab hold of her. “Ma! It’s me! Would you just stop?!”
“Zuckerman? You okay?” Tammy asked, peering around the corner.
Seeing a female face, his mother jumped to her feet, nearly knocking him over. “He’s trying to kill me!” she screamed as she threw herself at Tammy, pointing her finger in Zuckerman’s direction.
“No I’m not, Ma. I’m trying to help you. I’m your Goddamn son!”
“Please help me,” she whispered, clinging to Tammy’s arm.
“Shhhh. He’s not going to hurt you,” Tammy soothed, as she had with Harper only yesterday.
“He was trying to take me…” she rambled, scratching at the puncture marks on her arm.
“She has psychotic episodes sometimes,” Zuckerman sighed, lifting his cap to rake his fingers through his hair. “The pressure on her brain, and the drugs… it’s not the first time.” He rubbed his forehead. “Ma? You remember me, right? I’m your son,” he spoke calmly this time.
“Brian?” she asked, squinting her eyes at him.
“Yeah, Ma. It’s Brian.” He held his arms out and she cautiously stepped into them, pressing her face against his chest.
“Oh Brian! I’m so scared!” She gripped his shirt with both hands as he held her. “I hear them screaming. Always screaming…”
“Who’s screaming, Ma?”
“All of them… I hear them…”
“Ma, concentrate for a minute. Where’s Dad? Have you seen him?”
She stopped her rambling and turned her wide, glassy eyes to stare into his. She nodded slowly. “He’s out back,” she whispered.
CHAD
“Jesus,” Chad hissed under his breath. “I knew his parents were fucked up, but I never imagined…” He shook his head as he took in the thick grime that surrounded the sink, the overflowing garbage bag complete with an army of flies. “How does anyone live like this?” he asked Zeke.
“I can see why he didn’t want to come back.”
“I could’ve helped him. We spent every day together. Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“Pride. Would you want to admit that this was your reality?”
“No. I guess not,” he sighed. “I just wish I’d known.” He trailed his hand along the table as he passed, regretting it almost immediately. He rubbed his now sticky hand on the back of his leg. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He stomped over to the door, pulling it open.
Zuckerman hadn’t been exaggerating. It really was just a bit of grass and a fence. Still, they went out to check all the same.
“I’ll check this side, you look over there.” Chad waved his hand in the air. He walked the small distance to the side of the house and peered around the corner. It was just as bare as the rest.
“All clear!” Zeke called out.
“Clear here too!” They met in the middle. “I guess they must’ve got out.” He stopped when he saw the look on Zeke’s face. “What is it?” he asked.
“Did you close the door?”
“What? No, you came out after me.” Chad followed Zeke’s gaze, a chill running down his spine. “You sure you didn’t just pull it behind you?” he whispered, pulling out his secateurs.
“And shut us out here? Not a chance.” He unslung his gun, cocking it. They crept towards the door, their eyes frantically searching for whoever had shut them out.
Then came the blood curdling scream.
ZUCKERMAN
“Someone’s out there,” Tammy hissed. “I can hear them breathing.” Her eyes darting to the door as she backed away.
“It could be…” he was silenced by a shake of her head.
“It’s not,” she mouthed.
“He’s here, he’s come for us,” his mother whispered frantically. “I told you he was trying to kill me!” she screamed, slipping out of his arms and running for the window.
“Ma!”
The breathing became louder as an ominous figure burst through the door. His solid frame took up the entire space, leaving no room to slip through. His shirt was dirty and shredded, allowing a glimpse at the bloody gash on his abdomen. His ankle was bent in an impossible position, his foot flailing about to the side.
He hadn’t moved. He just watched them, his face curled up into a
snarl, a rumble coming from deep within.
“Jesus, Dad?” Zuckerman murmured. “He’s one of them.” Tears filled his eyes as he faced the man he both loved and despised.
“The devil has come for us!” his mother wailed, her fingers clawing at the window, trying to find a way to escape. “He’ll kill us all!” She threw her head back and screamed.
“Shhhh,” Tammy hushed, “You’ll bring more of them!” She grabbed hold of her, her hand clamped over the hysterical woman’s mouth. “You… need… to be… quiet now.” She was struggling to hold her still as her head shook side to side, trying to break free. She felt the sharp bite of her teeth clamping down on her hand. Unable to stop herself, she let go with a scream.
The blood dripping from her hand drew the attention of the man who was still standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her. Zuckerman moved to stand between him and them.
“It’s the blood! You need to stop it! Wrap it in something!” He kept his eyes glued to his father, as he grabbed a shirt from the drawer and threw it at her. “Here.”
Someone was pounding on the door. “Z!”
“It’s Chad!” Tammy cried out. “Chad! We’re in here!”
“The devil is coming, the devil is coming…”
“Ma, stop!” Zuckerman reached out for the crumpled heap on the floor that was his mother. She sat, scratching at her arms, drawing blood. “You need to stop,” he said softly. “Please. I can’t think straight.”
His father lowered his body into a crouch, like an animal about to attack its prey.
“Z?” Tammy said, her voice full of fear.
With a roar, his father leapt into the air, his face contorted.
“No!” Zuckerman charged, knocking Tammy and his mother out of the way. He landed on his side with a thud, his father’s large body on top of his legs. He bucked, trying to free himself but his father was twice his size. He reached out, grabbing a clump of his hair and pulled hard to stop his teeth from making contact with his flesh. He could feel it ripping from the scalp.
Flesh-Eater (Book 1): Fear the Fever Page 11