Chapter 27
The North Dallas branch of the Loyal Order of The Non-Dead Epicurean Society held its monthly meetings on the top floor of a six-story building owned by the Chairperson, Siegfried Wagner.
Wagner had earned a fortune in the stock market well before The Dark Times. Not long before the outbreak, he sold his stocks, and invested in real estate and precious metals. The hard assets were still in his ownership when The Dark Times ended, and his fortune increased during the rebuild. Not only that, but his leadership and benevolence in the community had earned him great respect.
With money comes power. With money and power comes influence. When his personal physician, David Dial, had diagnosed him with an incurable form of cancer, he had also offered Siegfried a personal gift, a Resurrection Y treatment.
The offer had not come without personal risk. If discovered, Dial would lose his medical license and earn a mandatory twenty years prison sentence.
Wagner had accepted the offer, as it was his only real option for survival. The mutated alien DNA combined with his during the treatment and totally rid his body of the cancer.
As a matter of conscience, now that he shared something in common with the slaves rebuilding the country, he found himself growing increasingly sympathetic toward the Sub Z labor force. The members worked tirelessly around the community, doing the unskilled jobs the Living didn’t need, or didn’t want, to do. All the while the Sub Zs required little in return. The Sub Z workforce kept mostly to themselves, even avoiding eye contact with the Living as they went about their menial tasks. The Sub Zs toiled night and day to preserve the modern way of life for the Living.
Wagner provided seed money as an anonymous donor to fund various organizations that recognized the abuse of the Non-Dead, including the NAAND. It was only later that he came to learn of the plight of the Sub Y Class of the Non-Dead, of which he was unofficially a member, as Sub Ys were so few in number. The Sub Y Class was forced to work in jobs below their skill level and to exist on wages well below the poverty line.
What started as a private support group for Sub Ys slowly turned into a social club, and over time, branched out into a social network. Perhaps it was the remnants of the alien DNA functioning within the human system that had a mysterious binding force all Sub Ys shared. Wagner wasn’t sure. But the camaraderie among the Sub Ys was without question. As were the proclivities toward advancing as a species and enjoying the bounties of what their altered existence enabled.
As he scanned the table, all of the expected members were in attendance, along with the invited guest ready to petition for membership. Wagner rose from his chair and called order by tapping a wine glass with his pen.
“To the fine gentlemen and the exquisite ladies of the Loyal Order of The Non-Dead Epicurean Society, I bid you greetings to our monthly gathering. For most of you here, you’ll notice a new face sitting at my right.” Wagner gestured with his hand.
“His name is Stanley Hetzel. We learned of Stanley from the national database, through a newly placed contact in the Department of Homeland Security. He is local to our Chapter and has passed the vetting process with flying colors.
“No longer will he wander through the world of the Living, feeling lost and all alone, begging for scraps from the tables of the ruling masters.
“We have embraced him for what he is—what we all are. What we have become has been a blessing in disguise. Now in our advanced state, erroneously classified as Subspecies Y of Homo sapiens, our common goal is to enjoy this blessing. To achieve the greatest good in society by pursuing the pleasures life has to offer. To attain a state of tranquility and freedom from fear, as Epicurus himself believed, after whom we’ve modeled our Society.
“Knowledge, friendship, living a virtuous life, we combine all in hopes of building a new respect for us in our new society. Our goal is to hasten the day when the Living will no longer see us through the eyes of prejudice and accept us as equals.
“For those of you who have legally undergone the transformation, and are formally classified as Subspecies Y, I’m sorry you are carrying this burden alone. I pledge to you that this will not stand. As the national movement for equal rights for the Subspecies Y and Subspecies Z goes forward, those of us who are hiding our transformation are growing in number. At the appropriate time, I, along with the other illegals, will proclaim our condition publicly.
“In doing so we will expose the Living for what they truly are, hypocrites. Not all Living, but most. We would have no voice in the world today without the sympathetic Living on our side.
“Imagine the reaction when the well-respected professor who beat cancer, and yet continues to perform at his normal high level, outs himself as having been cured not by traditional means, but by the RY drug. Imagine the surgeon, the minister, the librarian, or just that nice old fat guy who lives down the street when they step forth and tell their story.
“Through our combined efforts, the Resurrection Y drug is being successfully manufactured in a secret lab I personally fund. No longer will it be available only to the rich and influential people outside of government controls. No longer will those in need sell everything they own in a last act of desperation and buy a treatment in the back alleys, only to find later the drug was nothing more than saline solution. But others—whom we will choose with the utmost discretion—we shall save and add to our growing ranks.”
A mild round of applause warmed the air.
“As always, before we get down to the minutia of boring business details, we’ll have a little pick me up to help get the creative juices flowing. I would like to thank Mack Teller and Jarvis White for their efforts in securing this month’s presentation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, to Mack and Jarvis.” Wagner lifted his wine glass from the table and raised it in the air. The members rose and did the same, bringing their wine glasses to their lips at Wagner’s command.
A stainless steel gurney hidden underneath a white tablecloth pushed by a man wearing a food service uniform bumped its way past two spring-hinged doors and onto a sheet of plastic covering the floor.
Displayed with the prominence of a Thanksgiving turkey, Walter Simmons lay naked, his body clean shaven, and arms and legs strapped securely to the gurney. His lidless, bloodshot eyes darted around the room as he jutted his head from side to side.
“For tonight, the dish has been prepared with a light dusting of sea salt, white pepper, thyme, and a squeeze of garlic. If you will, please join me,” Wagner said.
The sixteen members of the Society gathered along both sides of the gurney. Wagner reached to untie the gag from the man’s mouth.
Stanley leaned toward Mack, and said, “I don’t know if I can do this. I want to do it, I think. I don’t know if I can.”
Mack chuckled. “I remember when I had my first taste. It was almost two years after my transformation. I didn’t have a clue that having a desire to eat human flesh was a side effect of the RY treatment. I guess none of the test subjects were brave enough to share that information. It would have meant instant death to confess that, I’m sure. The first time is very special, though. It’s something you’ll always remember.”
“Really, what’s it like?”
“Think of your first orgasm. It’s that special.”
“Why is Wagner taking off the gag? Won’t the guy scream?” Stanley asked.
“Sure, he’ll scream. But it will enhance the experience. Be careful to keep the bib in place or you’ll stain your clothes,” Mack said.
“Hey! What are you freaks doing? Get me off here! Somebody call the cops!” Walter struggled harder to free himself from his bonds.
“Now-now, let’s not work up a sweat. Calm yourself,” Wagner said, patting Walter gently on his shoulder. “Ladies and gentlemen, I shall begin,” Wagner concluded, plunging his face toward Walter’s right cheek, and ripping out a plug of meat with his teeth. After a thorough chewing, he swallowed and chased the delicate pleasure with another taste of wine.
Walter’s startled cry energized the room.
“Interesting. Very tender with an ample amount of fat. He is of English and French descent, with a tad bit of Spanish and American Indian mixed in, which makes the flavor quite distinct. Mrs. Beck, I would like to hear your thoughts.”
Kasey Beck pulled her long blonde hair behind her neck. She opened her mouth wide, and forced her teeth into the other cheek, as Walter struggled to pull his head away. She ripped off a piece of cheek. Walter wailed like an air horn.
She slowly chewed and closed her eyes, ecstasy over her face. “Oh, my God. I haven’t had anything this delicious since the Jamaican.”
“Stop! Stop it right now! I’ll do anything you want! ANYTHING! Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me.” Blood and saliva from the wounds on his cheeks leaked down the sides of his face. Walter remotely resembled a clown with a most horrified expression.
“You sick son-of-a-bitch—how dare you beg for mercy!” Mack blasted. “Just listen to yourself. Do you know what I hear? I hear the screams of countless children as you savaged them. Did you stop? No, because there is only blackness in your soul. I’m only sorry you only have one life for us to take.”
Mack leaned over and yanked Walter’s penis to the side. His head went low, and his teeth gouged off Walter’s scrotum.
Walter heaved out a rattle in his throat that sounded as if he were choking in mud.
Mack brought his face up to meet Walter’s. The sack filled Mack’s mouth, and the two testicles poked out like two uncooked meatballs. He slowly bit down, letting blood spill down his chin.
The gore dripped onto Walter’s frozen gaze. His eyes rolled to the back of his head
“It appears the entertainment portion is over. Our guest is in the onset of shock. Please, enjoy yourselves while there’s still life in him.”
Stanley watched as the other members tore at the dinner guest like a pack of wild dogs. Blood gushed from the gaping wounds as chunks of meat disappeared.
“Better dive in while you can,” Mack said after he finished another mouthful.
“It’s so raw . . . so fresh . . .” Stanley went in for a bite of forearm. The meat squished between his teeth, and his face lit up as he swallowed the savory delight. “This is fucking fantastic! It makes me feel like a God!”
Chapter 28
There was enough light in the room for Lisa to see she was alone. Where she was, the time of day, how she got there, all were a mystery.
The room was uncomfortably cool, chilling her to the bone. With no apparent way out of her situation, she carefully stepped to the nearest wall, and ran her fingers over it—searching for a way out.
The wall had the strange feeling of flexible metal. As she walked the perimeter, the wall texture didn’t vary, nor did she come across a seam of any sort. She was trapped in a box with no explanation of the room’s illumination.
Claustrophobia weighed over like an elephant sitting on her chest. She found the cool air drying to the inside of her throat and swallowed to bring it moisture. Her anxiety built as each second dragged her down an abyss of hopelessness.
A white light as bright as the sun penetrated her peripheral vision through a hidden door opened by an unseen hand.
The area outside was as much a mystery as the room. Bathed in light, it appeared to extend into infinity in all directions.
Lisa poked her head through the door. Nothing but the floor underneath felt real. In this case, she would have to risk the unknown in what waited outside over the known confinement of the room.
Lisa stepped out on faith alone. The floor outside felt warm to the bare soles of her feet. Oppressive warmth, thick and moist, enveloped as she waded headlong into a growing wind.
She found herself wishing for the cool, dry air of the room as sweat beaded on her brow. The wind increased to a ridiculous force. She leaned into it, almost coming to a complete standstill as it pushed against her.
A familiar voice whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over.” Then, she felt something wet lick the inside of her ear, sending icy needles down her spine.
Lisa spun around and saw Normie Cantrell standing by her, his eyes wide in madness.
The wind stopped. Complete silence fell. Normie slowly walked around Lisa, as a cat circling a wounded mouse. She turned and faced him, ready to run if he made a move toward her.
“The real money comes when a guy gets to blow his wad,” Normie said.
A wall of naked men appeared, surrounding her—a vile bunch covered with oozing scabs and pustules, as if they had crawled out of the sewers from the pits of Hell.
“It’s time for you to earn your money, Lisa,” Normie said, then bellowed with laughter that echoed in Lisa’s head.
The wicked crowd snarled with delight and rushed Lisa, grabbing whatever their talon-like fingers could hold. Pain shot throughout her body like wildfire as she felt pieces of her flesh ripped from her body.
The laughter drowned out her ability to think. She screamed to drive Normie’s voice from her head.
Lisa woke from her dream. A ceiling fan above spun slowly. Sunlight filtered through drawn curtains to softly light the room. She batted her eyes until the unfamiliar shapes in the room took focus. Her mind raced to make sense of her surroundings.
Reality brought the same dilemmas as her dream. Where was she? How long had she been here? She didn’t think she was inside The Dancing Bare. The room had a typically home-like feel to it. The bed was incredibly comfortable; the sheets felt like fine Egyptian cotton. An alluring smell of men’s cologne filled her nostrils when she rubbed her nose on the pillow.
“Lisa, are you awake?” A voice at the end of the bed asked.
Lisa abruptly sat up, pulling the covers to her neck. “Yes.”
“How are you feeling?”
The sudden movement made her head spin. A wave of nausea delayed her response. “I’ve been better.”
Several seconds of silence passed. “Do you know where you are, who I am?”
“At the risk of sounding like a total fool, no, I don’t.”
“I’m Rick Poundstone. You know, the congressman.”
Lisa let out a sign of relief. She was free of Normie.
“I brought you here last night from the club. My house was closer than your apartment, and I thought it would be easier for me to care for you at my place.”
“I don’t remember much of anything about last night. How did I end up naked in your bed, and why do I smell like puke? What have you done to me?”
“Hold on, Lisa. I haven’t done anything to you. When I heard the message you left on my phone, I was worried. I found out where you were with the help of the police. When I located you at the club you were already naked. I’m sorry, but I don’t know the story behind that. If I hadn’t come to your rescue, well, God only knows what would have happened.
“I spent half the night holding your hair out of your face while you propped your head over the toilet and threw your guts up. Please understand, I haven’t taken advantage of you in anyway.”
“I don’t remember much about . . . I’m sorry. I just…” Lisa’s voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears.
“None of what happened last night is important. I need to make sure you’re okay. I want to help you get your life back together,” Rick said.
“Do you have a magic wand in your pocket? That won’t be as simple as you make it sound.”
“I’m not trying to make it sound simple. First, do you need medical attention?”
“I have a headache, and I’m incredibly thirsty, but I don’t want to go to a doctor. I don’t think he has a prescription for extreme shitfaced.”
“When I left you this morning I put a note on the table for you to help yourself to what was in the fridge. I see you never woke to get the note.”
“This morning? What time is it?”
“A little past six p.m. Let me get you some sports drink. It’ll help with your dehydration,” Rick sa
id, and left the room.
Lisa pulled her ankles under her thighs, trying to get more comfortable, still holding the sheet under her chin.
Rick returned with a tall glass of an iced lemon-lime drink and handed it to her. “Would you like something to eat? Crackers? Fruit? Can you think of something?”
Lisa took the drink with one hand, keeping the cover up with the other. “Nothing now, thank you,” she said, then drank from the glass.
She let the sweet-tangy liquid roll over her tongue and pool in her mouth before swallowing. She felt instantly refreshed.
Rick waited for her to finish, acting as if his hands were foreign objects that he didn’t know where to place.
Lisa finished the drink and repressed a burp. “I needed that, thanks.”
“I’m serious about my offer. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. I’ll lay it out for you at the proper time. Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll find some clothes around here you can wear. Your bag and clothes smelled like old cigarettes and sour beer from that club. I left it in the trunk. I didn’t want to bring it inside and stink up the place. You took that robe off before you got in bed.” He pointed toward a trash can in the corner of the room. The robe was wadded up in it. “I’ve considered burning it in the fireplace,” Rick said.
Lisa couldn’t tell if he was disgusted with her or if he was making light of the situation. “You let me in here to stink up the place.”
Rick smiled. “With you, I didn’t have a choice. Although I could have hosed you off outside. Maybe next time.
“You get in the shower. I’ll put some clothes on the bed for you after I pull off the sheets and put them in the wash. You’ll find some toiletries in the white cabinet.” Rick left the room without saying anything else.
“Order received loud and clear, Mr. Congressman,” Lisa said to herself. Feeling ill from the smell of her own body, she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do, and slid out of bed, heading for the shower.
Resurrection X Page 18