Flesh-Eater (Book 1): Fear the Fever

by Stacey Broadbent

  “You will not take MY SON!” his mother bellowed in a sudden bout of sanity, diving on top of them. She clawed at the hollow of his eyes, her nails leaving trails of red down his face. He let go of Zuckerman and turned on her, his teeth snapping at her throat.

  “Ma! No!” He scrambled to the bed, feeling for the baseball bat he kept under there. He swung it above his head, bringing it down on his father’s scull with a dull thud. His body dropped to the ground, but not before his teeth ripped a hole in her throat, leaving her spluttering, drowning in her own blood. “Nooooo!” Zuckerman swung the bat again, pounding it into his father’s head repeatedly, until it was just a bloody mess on the floor. He dropped the bat, sinking to his knees as tears streamed down his face. “I got him, Ma,” he whispered. “The devil can’t hurt you anymore.”

  CHAD

  Silence fell and the boys were worried. Were their friends okay? Had they made it out? Or were they now going to have to do the unspeakable once more?

  Chad began shoulder barging the door, in hopes of getting in. The flimsy wood bowed with every blow. One more and it should give. With a loud crack, the door splintered, leaving enough room for them to slip through.

  “Tammy?! Z?!” Chad called out as he ran towards the front of the house. Zeke kept close behind, his gun still cocked and ready, just in case.

  “In here,” came the distressed voice of Tammy. She had clearly been crying.

  Rounding the corner they stopped abruptly, taking in the scene before them. Tammy was kneeling on the bed, her face blotchy and tearstained. Zuckerman was sitting with his back against the wall, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling. Beside him lay two bodies covered in a crimson blanket of blood. Chad recognised the woman as Zuckerman’s mother, a ragged hole ripped in her throat, thick blood still oozing from the wound. Beside her were the remains of what looked to be a large man.

  “What happened in here?” Zeke asked, lowering his gun. “Are you guys okay?”

  “Yeah… I think so,” Tammy murmured. “He… he…” she tried, but her voice kept breaking on her.

  “He was one of them,” Zuckerman said, squeezing his eyes closed. “She was hiding in my closet.”

  “Did you know him?” Zeke asked.

  Zuckerman blinked, turning to look at them. “Yeah. He was my father.”

  “Oh shit,” Chad hissed. “I’m so sorry, man.”

  Zuckerman shrugged. “I called it, didn’t I?” he snorted. “It was only a matter of time…” He crawled over to his mother’s frail body, stroking her hair from her face. “She saved me,” he stated. “She was out of her fucking tree, but she saved me, right before…” he waved his hand towards the body of his father, letting that speak for him. “It was like she had a moment of clarity, and… she was like the mother I used to know.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

  “It was her love for you. Nothing is as strong as a mother’s love. Especially when her baby is in trouble.” Tammy smiled through her tears. “She loved you, Z.”

  Sucking air in through his nose, he nodded, his face slowly crumpling as tears began to fall. He collapsed over his mother’s body, hugging her to him as he sobbed, mourning the mother she had been so long ago.

  In what was becoming her signature move, Tammy went to Zuckerman, cradling his head in her hands and stroking his hair as he let out all the built up feelings from over the years.

  Zeke motioned for Chad to join him in the hallway.

  “I don’t want to sound like a dick here, but,” he peeked back through the door, “she could turn any minute now. Someone’s going to have to … you know.” He held his fingers to his head like a pistol. “Take care of her.”

  Chad nodded. “I’ll do it.” He took the gun from Zeke’s hand. “It should be me, he’s my best friend.”

  Zeke placed his hand on his shoulder. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You guys take him out to the car, so he doesn’t have to see.”

  “Okay.” Zeke pointed at the gun. “You ever use one of these?”

  Chad, looking embarrassed, shook his head. “No.” He scratched his head. “Don’t I just aim and fire?”

  Zeke laughed, “Yeah, that’s the basics of it. It’ll kick back, so you need to be prepared for it. You need to rest the butt of the gun against your shoulder, here.” He pointed to a spot between his chest and shoulder. “It’s already loaded, so all you need to do is pull the trigger. Head wounds are what seem to kill them.” He watched as Chad positioned the gun on his shoulder, re-adjusting it to sit in the right place. “Good. You ready?”

  “No,” he said, though he nodded his head anyway.

  Zeke walked in first, going to Tammy and whispering in her ear. She looked up at Chad, a pained expression on her face. Between them, they lifted Zuckerman to his feet. He blew his mother one last kiss, before allowing them to guide him to the door.

  “Make it quick. Don’t let her suffer any more,” he said as he passed by.

  Chad swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “I will,” he managed to say. He watched them walk out to the car, making sure they were inside. “Here goes,” he muttered to himself, slowly walking over to the bodies. He stepped one leg on either side of her hips. He squared his shoulders, resting the gun where Zeke had shown him.

  Taking a deep breath, he rested his finger on the trigger. “She’s not alive. She’s not alive. She’s not alive,” he chanted, trying to steady his breathing. He could feel sweat trickling down his back, it was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

  He looked out the window to where the others were waiting for him. Zuckerman was staring back at him, nodding his head. He needed to do this for him.

  He turned back to his target. There was a spot of blood on her forehead that he used as his aim. Another deep breath. A squeeze of the finger.

  There was an explosion of red in front of his eyes and a ringing in his ears. His shoulder felt as though it had been hit with a tonne of bricks. He had done it. The gun dropped to his side as he let out the breath he had been holding.

  His body began to shake, his legs buckling beneath him. He stumbled to the bed, bracing his hands on the soft mattress. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths, as he tried not to throw up. When he opened them, he was faced with the photograph of Zuckerman and his parents. They looked so happy.

  He clutched the picture in his hand, careful not to smear it with blood. Zuckerman would want this. It was his only happy memory of them.

  CALEB

  “So, what you’re saying is, they’re like us in every way, except they eat flesh?” he asked incredulously.

  “From what I’ve seen, yeah,” Colton bobbed his head up and down. “It’s like they’ve been re-wired or something.”

  “Mmmm. Do they talk?”

  “I haven’t exactly tried to strike up a conversation with one. They’re eating people, Caleb.”

  “But have you heard them talk?”

  “No. I have not heard them talk.” Colton shook his head, unable to comprehend why they were even having this conversation.

  “Scientifically, this is quite fascinating.” Caleb scrawled some more notes down. He leaned back in his chair, drumming his pen against his chin. “It has to be attacking the brain, but pinpointing different aspects. They can still run and walk, so it isn’t effecting the entire frontal lobe. Their craving for flesh and blood, means that their reason has to be gone, and their speech appears to have diminished, but their hearing is more acute. Am I getting this right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “They can ‘stalk’ their prey, so they have to be thinking on some level. And they don’t appear to feel pain?”

  “Nope. They just keep coming at ya. I saw one get plugged with like, six shots to the chest.” He mimicked firing a gun. “Didn’t even flinch.”

  “So the sensory nerves are dulled. I guess that makes sense, what with them being ‘risen from the dead’. How can you kill something that’s already
dead?”

  Colton shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “You said the guy was shot in the chest?”

  “Yeah. Six shots, at least. Pretty close range too.”

  “Have you seen anyone shoot them in the head?”

  “Nah, but like I said, I wasn’t hanging around to watch. I came here as soon as I realised it had spread.” Colton picked at his sleeve. “Buggar being on your own with these freaks running around.” He stared at the screen on the wall, watching the dead bang against the door below. “Why? You think that would stop them?”

  “Well, if they really have come back from the dead, then I’m picking their hearts aren’t what is keeping them alive, so-to-speak. I think it’s all in their brain. You take that out, you take out the … what are we calling them?”

  “They’ve been saying flesh-eaters on the news. I myself, like the term freaks.”

  “Of course you do,” Caleb said dryly. They had been flatmates for the last three years and over that period of time, he had come to rely on Colton’s particular brand of humour. He was certainly one-of-a-kind. “As I was saying, if you take out their brain, then, theoretically, you take out the … flesh-eater.”

  “You’re not planning on going out there, are you?” Colton sat up, a worried expression on his face. “Cos, ya know that would be crazy, right? Please tell me that’s not what you’re thinking about doing.”

  “Calm down. I’m not going to go down there without a plan.”

  “You shouldn’t be going down there full stop. We’re safe in here. Out there,” he waved his hand towards the screen, “we don’t stand a chance.”

  TAMMY

  The ride to Chad’s was a quiet one. Zuckerman sat in the back, clutching his family photo to his chest as he stared out the window. When Chad had emerged, flecks of blood on his shirt and face, Zuckerman had almost looked relieved, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She knew it had to have been hard growing up as he did. What had happened in his bedroom must’ve brought up a lot of buried emotions. She couldn’t shake the image of him smashing the bat into his father’s head. It had been brutal, but in a way, she guessed it was probably a little therapeutic as well.

  Chad sat with his knee bobbing up and down, as if eager to get away, and who could blame him? Having to execute his best friend’s mother couldn’t have been easy. He kept sneaking sideways glances at Zuckerman, perhaps waiting for him to say something to ease his mind.

  She offered him a small smile, reaching her hand back to touch his knee. He stopped fidgeting and focused on her hand, gripping her fingers in his.

  “This the place?” Zeke asked as he pulled into a long driveway with one of those big ornamental gates. Chad nodded stiffly.

  Tammy took in the large house before them. It was made of white stone, with ivy climbing up the side walls to the second storey. Above the entranceway, held up by two sizeable pillars, was an ornate balcony, which she assumed was the master bedroom.

  She turned to face him with wide eyes, “You live here?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. “It was passed down to my Dad when Gramps died,” he said by way of explanation.

  “It’s beautiful,” she gushed.

  He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. “It’s just a house.” He climbed out of the car, staring up at his home. “Here we go again,” he muttered to himself.

  “You ready?” she asked, slipping her hand inside his for support. He looked down at her and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He nodded, stepping forward.

  Zeke and Zuckerman joined them, walking up the steps to the solid-looking oak door. He pulled out his key, slotting it in the lock and turning, pushing the door open in one fluid motion.

  “Hello?” he called out. “Mom? Dad? Anyone here?” He walked through the foyer, to his father’s study. “Dad?”

  “Maybe we should split up, take a look around?” Zeke suggested. “We’ll take downstairs, and you two,” he pointed at Tammy and Chad, “look upstairs.”

  “Okay.” Chad grabbed her hand again, leading her up the stairs to the landing. “That’s my parents’ room.” He pointed to the left. “We’ll look there first.”

  Peering through the open doorway, he could see that no-one was in there. He checked the closets, noting that their bags were gone, along with several of their clothes.

  “Chad?” called Zuckerman. “There’s a note!”

  Chad looked at Tammy, then back downstairs. They ran to see what the others had found. Zuckerman was waving a piece of paper in his hand.

  “It was on the counter,” he said, handing the note over.

  Our darling Chad

  We hope that you managed to get away before any of this happened.

  We waited as long as we could, but the authorities were urging us to leave.

  We have gone to stay with Aunt Eden until this epidemic passes.

  If you are reading this, pack, take the Mercedes and join us in Florida.

  Stay safe.

  We love you,

  Mom and Dad

  “They’re not here,” he stated, folding the note and placing it in his back pocket. “They’re in Florida.”

  “What now?” Tammy asked.

  “I guess we head back,” Zuckerman said. “Unless you want to follow them?”

  Chad shook his head. “No, I think what we’re doing is important. If we come up with nothing, then we’ll come back and grab the other car, and we can all go. My Aunt has a huge place, she would put us all up.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure? No-one would think any less of you if you wanted to get out, ya know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I want to stay. Let me just grab some clothes from upstairs.” He took the stairs two at a time, while skimming the bannister with his hand. He stepped into his room, heading straight for the closet. He grabbed a bag and threw in a jacket and sweater, a couple of pairs of pants and some spare shoes. He made sure he had enough for Zuckerman too. In their haste, he hadn’t had a chance to grab anything.

  He went back into his parents’ bedroom, retrieving the handgun he knew his father kept in his bedside drawer. He found the bullets in a box in the back of the cupboard. Adding those to his bag, he went to join the others downstairs.

  Something stopped him when he reached the landing. He felt a sudden need to check his room again.

  On light feet, he entered his room once more. This time, taking his time to look around. He noticed that a few things were out of place. His bedsheets were pulled up haphazardly, like someone had been in it and left in a hurry. Silently dropping to his hands and knees, he lifted the valance on his bed. Two scared eyes met his.

  “Chad?” the tiny voice whispered.

  “Caitlyn?” he asked. “Caitlyn, what are you doing here?” He helped her climb out from her hiding place.

  “I… I…”

  He could see she was terrified. “Take a deep breath, Caitlyn. Where are your parents?”

  Her lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears. “Gone!” she coughed out, sniffing and dragging her arm across her eyes to hide the tears.

  “Caitlyn, look at me.” He knelt down lower, clasping her shoulders. “Where did they go? They’ll be worried sick about you, you know that, right?”

  She shook her head, fresh tears spilling over her long blonde lashes. “No, they’re gone. They… left…me,” she hiccupped. “They… didn’t… come… back.”

  “Oh, Caitlyn,” he said, pulling her into him. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Caitlyn lived three doors down. Chad looked after her sometimes when her parents went out. She was the sweetest six year old he’d ever met. “Come on, you can come with us. Grab your things and you can meet my friends.”

  “I didn’t bring anything.”

  “That’s okay, we can find you something. Wait here.” He ran back out to the landing. “Tammy? Can you come here a minute?”

  “What is it?” she asked, as soon as she was close enough.


  “We have a stowaway.” He nodded towards his room where Caitlyn was poking her head out. “This is Caitlyn. She lives down the road.” He lowered his voice. “Her parents left and haven’t come back. We have to take her with us.”

  Tammy put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, the poor thing,” she whispered, feeling heartbroken for her.

  “Yeah. Can you help me find some clothes for her in my mother’s wardrobe?”

  “Of course.” She turned to Caitlyn. “Come here sweetheart. We’ll look after you.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m Tammy.”

  CAITLYN

  Before…

  Caitlyn sat playing with her Barbie’s while her Mom was busy in the kitchen. Greta, their housekeeper, was helping her to prepare dinner. The television on the wall was muted, but they could still see the pictures. The news had just begun, when her Mom dropped the knife she had been holding. It made a loud clanging sound as it bounced on the marble tiles.

  Caitlyn looked up to see her Mom’s face had gone white, and she looked upset.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” she asked.

  “Nothing, my darling,” she’d said, wringing her hands on the tea towel beside her. Greta was making the sign of the cross over her chest and mumbling something that Caitlyn couldn’t hear.

  “He should’ve been home by now,” she heard her mother say. “He’s been gone too long.” She was whispering to Greta, her hands continuously working at the tea towel until her hands were red. She snatched her phone off the counter, punching in a number. “Come on, come on!” she cried out, pulling it from her ear to stare at the screen. “It just went to voicemail. He’s not answering. Something’s wrong.”

  She had scooped Caitlyn up off the floor, hugging her tightly.

  “Listen to me, honey. Mommy has to go out, okay? I need to find Daddy.”

  Caitlyn nodded, reaching out to touch her mother’s cheeks, tracing the trail left behind by her tears.