Rightly she saw the six leaders as the road block stopping the Blacks from attaining their proper position, and rightly she saw how their deaths could further her aims. She would make them martyrs for the cause. Their deaths at the hands of “racists” and “bigots” would turn the little smoldering flame of hate she had kindled in her people into a bonfire.
As everything else for her had been since her arrival in Philadelphia, arranging the deaths was easy. Four of the six supervised the trades with the other communities and it was nothing to block their route with a few trash cans set in the middle of the road. When they went to clear the way, she shot them like dogs in the street, and mounted their heads on a nearby fence.
It didn't matter much to her that the leaders had been on their way to trade with the Spics instead of the Whites, because now the hearts of her people were inflamed and emotions were never so raw, and no man or woman among them were as vocal as Cassandra Mason. She agitated constantly for revenge, access to new territory, and more than anything: a new beginning. A new kingdom for the black peoples who had so long oppressed! She was the perfect choice to step forward and fill the very power vacuum she had created, and in the process she turned Philadelphia, The City of Brotherly Love, into a burning cauldron where man murdered his fellow man, while the undead fed on each.
Chapter 11
Neil
The Center for Disease Control, Atlanta, Georgia
The two beasts fought loudly and Neil Martin did the only prudent thing possible: he hid. On tip-toes, he slunk down a dim hall and into a back bedroom, closing the door behind him as soundlessly as possible. There he practically held his breath, listening as the creatures went at it in a desperate battle.
That they would fight was the biggest surprise. He had always thought that they were of one mind and that he was their prey, but that had proved untrue.
"It is what it is," he whispered under his breath as he brought out a pump action, twelve gauge shotgun that seemed like a monster of a weapon in the hands of such a small man—he topped five foot by only four inches. Out of habit, he checked to see if a shell was chambered. It was...
Just then the bedroom door burst open, which solicited a yelp and a spasmed jerk from Neil. The shotgun dropped to the bed as he sprung up.
"Yes?" he asked in guilty innocence.
"I knew I'd find you here," Sarah Rivers said, coming into the room in a wrath. "You are a part of this, so don't think hiding will help you."
"Of course not," Neil said, eager to please. "I was just, uh, the gun...I wanted to check the uh..."
The appearance of Sadie, suddenly in the doorway with her dark eyes smoldering stopped his attempt at an excuse. "You aren't taking her side are you?" she asked in disbelief. "That's completely unfair."
"No, I wasn't," Neil replied and then pointed vaguely at the fallen gun which had landed on his and Sarah's bed. "The ammo...I was checking it. And the bedspread...it's on backwards. And the shoe." There was a shoe on the bed next to the gun. He pointed at it for reasons that could not be accounted for.
Sarah turned her denim-blue eyes from him to the shoe and then back again. Her glare, fed by her hormone twerked mind, was all the more fierce. "What, you have a problem with my shoes now?"
"No, not at all," Neil said shaking his head. "You have great shoes."
"This isn't about shoes," Sadie cried. "It's about you two not being fair at all! I have the right to go with Mark. You can't stop me."
Neil raised his hands to her, palms out in the universal sign of peace...or surrender. "Yes, of course not," he began, trying to placate two women who had unfortunately synced their cycles.
"Neil!" Sarah hissed in a low warning tone. He guessed this was the sound an adder made when one's bare foot was only inches from coming down on it. "We talked about this."
Feeling trapped, he backed to the wall and floundered, "Yes, right, we did, but..."
Sadie's eyes widened to their fullest. "You talked? Behind my back? What happened to us being open and honest? When did that go out the window?"
"Please, calm down," Neil said, forgetting how that simple phrase had nearly gotten him pegged with a teacup only the month before. "We're fine with you dating Mark. That's not the issue here. We both think he's a fine young man. Of what we know of him that is."
"Then I can go?" she asked. "Alone?"
Sarah and Neil locked eyes for a brief moment before Neil answered with a simple, "No." He then gritted his teeth, waiting for the inevitable explosion, hoping for it really, since the alternative was worse.
"You know you can't tell me what to do," Sadie said, her words were ice cold and cutting. "You're not my real parents; in case you forgot."
There was no way he could have—she reminded them every time an argument came up. Her parents were dead, just like everyone else's parents were. Still they were a family. The three of them, four if they counted little Eve, had adopted themselves. They came together in the midst of a zombie apocalypse and somehow had created a family out of the thinnest of bonds.
"We've never told you what to do," Sarah said, cooling slightly. "We have never ordered you about, have we?"
"You are now!"
Sarah's brief attempt at calm failed. "Neil, she isn't listening!" All the commotion woke Eve from her nap and she began a plaintive bleating that could hardly be heard. The baby had never been loud to begin with and now after six months of selective training she was even quieter. The same could not be said for Sarah and Sadie when they were in a mood.
"See what you did?" they cried in unison, each raking the other with their eyes and pointing accusingly.
Neil dropped onto the bed. With all three of the women in his life upset at the same time he lacked the strength to stand. "Sarah, can you please go check on Eve?"
She stiffened and looked within an ace of exploding, however she only flared her nostrils and said, "You better not give in." She walked out of the room leaving only a frosty Sadie for him to deal with.
Just a few more days, he thought to himself. As the quintessential lonesome loser before the apocalypse he had not been prepared in the least for the fact of PMS. Without basis he had always thought of it as either an excuse some women made when their vaunted restraint lapsed, or as a pretext for men to ridicule the least demonstration of emotion a woman might indulge in.
Now he knew it was a real thing.
And when two women were simultaneously ripping into him for not being supportive, or rendering the meaning of innocuous words to suggest he had called them fat, he didn't know how to proceed, except to tiptoe through the "week" as if he were working his way through a minefield.
"Why is she always like that?" Sadie asked through gritted teeth.
"She isn't always like that, and you know it," Neil said, pulling her down next to him on the bed. "This isn't about us telling you what to do, and it's not about either of us thinking we're smarter than you, or better in any way. It's about us loving you."
Sadie's glare, which had been building in ire, disappeared. Her mouth came open: "But..." she said, her anger faltering.
Neil relaxed a touch. Sadie could be counted on not to know how to deal with it when someone told her they loved her. Growing up in a household with what were essentially two absentee parents, the word love had rarely been used in her home.
"We love you and that's why we care so much about your safety," Neil went on. "Yes, this is about safety. Leaving the base with a boy we barely know is dangerous."
He was proud that she wanted to forage. Without any special skills to trade for food or necessities, it was the only way for the family to survive, at least for now. Neil viewed foraging as a short run solution and was already considering ways to become independent of the constant, deadly scavenging.
"I can take care of myself," she replied. “You know I can.”
He patted her leg—it was a leg of hard muscle that could easily outrun not only Neil, but every zombie ever made. "Yes, you can take care of y
ourself against the zombies. What of Mark? I'm not suggesting he's some sort of rapist. But what if he's a drinker? Things can get out of hand. Or what if he tries to prove how brave he is? Remember that kid, Albert? The kid who tried to wrestle one of the stiffs to show off for a girl and got bit. It's a fact, boys do crazy things around girls."
"Yeah, well, you're not looking at it from my point of view," Sadie countered. "You're gonna make me look like a child. It will look like you're babysitting me."
"Yes, I'm sure it will. But think about when Eve turns seventeen and she starts asking to leave the base. What do you think your response will be?"
Sadie's eyes shifted down as they saw a possible future where her role would be reversed. Though it was clear she understood the analogy, the teenager held onto the last vestige of her argument, "Still, it's not fair..."
"And that's what she's going to say. This is not about being fair. You love her and you'll risk her getting mad at you in order to protect her. Sarah and I are willing to risk it as well." Neil sat back and watched his adopted daughter for signs of thawing—she warmed only slightly, so he added, "We're not saying you can't go with him. We're just saying one of us has to come too. And besides, we're a great team me and you."
"Who says I'll pick you? Maybe I want Sarah to come along," she said reverting back to her old, impish personality.
"I meant one of us, other than her," Neil countered. "She's got Eve to worry about and besides, she's not the best with zombies."
"And you are?" she asked. At his hurt look—as small and skinny as he was, he was nobody's idea of a hero—she added, "I didn't mean that. It's just that Mark is really good. You've seen him. He's so big and strong and burly."
At this, Neil smiled with all the humanity of an erector set. It clinked into place one muscle at a time. "I'm sure he's great. How old is he?"
"Only twenty-three," she gushed. "And he is strong. Really strong. You can trust him to take care of me."
Neil wished he could, only he had been twenty-three once and knew better. "I'm still coming. And I'm bringing our two-man tent." At her look of dismay, he could only shrug. “Maybe you’ll thank me one day.”
“Not likely.”
Chapter 12
Neil
Stockbridge, Georgia
Mark’s Range Rover bucked and bounced as it plowed through and over a street full of zombies. They made for sickening speed bumps and despite the smile he kept wedged onto his face, Neil felt ready to hurl up his breakfast. After all, running over a zombie was very much like running over a person.
“That’s what they get for jay-walking,” Mark said, flashing a set of white teeth.
From the back seat Sadie snorted with laughter. “Jay-walking! That’s funny. You see, Neil? I told you he was funny.”
Neil's smile was so tight that his jaw was beginning to hurt. “You did mention that on a number of…”
Just then a spray of black blood shot across the windshield. It was all Neil could do not to gag and of course Mark found a way to make things worse. He turned on the windshield wipers, making a hell of a mess.
Here it comes, Neil said to himself as his stomach flipped over. In desperation he opened his window, letting in a warm spring breeze that carried a pleasant fragrance. It focused him. He breathed it in, taking big gulps and after a minute managed to say, “Look, Sadie. The cherry trees are in bloom.”
Down a side street there were two great banks of the trees; their petals floated on the wind like a warm snow. It was as pretty a scene as he could have wished for. There wasn’t even a zombie along the tree-lined lane to mar the view.
“Wow,” Sadie said in a whisper, her dark eyes looking even darker than normal with her Goth make-up applied so heavily. “Let’s go there. Can we?”
“What for?” Mark asked after a quick glance. “We’re supposed to be scouting and scavenging, not gathering flowers for fuck’s sake.” So far they had done little of either. All the neighborhoods south of the city were either picked over already or infested to a dangerous degree. So far, they had wasted the better part of a day driving slowly through them.
Sadie looked disappointed. “I guess you’re right.”
Neil, who wanted to stop as well in order to settle his stomach, gave Mark a look and said, “Maybe she wants to stretch her legs. It sucks to be cramped up in the back seat for so long.”
“I suppose it won’t hurt,” he replied.
They pulled over halfway down the block. Sadie was the first out; she breathed the fresh air and smiled largely as she leapt here and there trying to catch the spinning flower petals before they hit the ground. There were too many for a thousand eager girls to catch them all. In seconds her hair was full of them and not for the first time Neil wished she would give up the Goth and start wearing dresses. Experience in this area had made him wise and he made sure not to mention it…again.
“Either of you want to race?” she asked. The light exercise had wetted her appetite for more.
Neil had gotten out of the Rover and was stretching—mostly this entailed kneading his knuckles into the small of his back rather than anything athletic. He laughed out a No at the suggestion.
“You kidding?” Mark asked. He hadn’t done any stretching. Instead he had assumed the role of protector and stood guard with a fat hunk of grey metal in his hands that could spit a huge ball of lead. “I used to play Safety on the football team in high-school. I’d wipe the floor with you.”
“Care to bet on it?” she asked, ignoring the fact that Neil had rolled his eyes. They were each showing off for the other and it is a universal truism that puppy love was nauseating for everyone on the outside looking in.
“Maybe you should stick to racing Neil,” Mark replied. “He looks like he’s more your speed.”
“Thanks,” Neil said, sharply. In truth he wished he was as fast as Sadie, but Mark clearly didn’t know what he was getting into and thus his comment was meant to be a put down. Subtle remarks like these had gone on most of the day and Neil was just about sick of it.
Before he could say anything more Sadie put a finger to her lips to quiet him. She knew Mark could be a jack-ass, but as she explained he was just trying to prove to Neil how tough he was. He was proving only tough to be around.
“Here’s the bet. We race down to that blue car.” She pointed at a car that was somewhere in the range of eighty yards away. “If I win then I get to drive for the rest of the trip. And if I lose…” Here she paused and gave a glance to Neil before she whispered something in Mark’s ear.
“Hell yeah!” Mark agreed to the bet on the spot.
“What?” Neil demanded, pulling Sadie by the elbow. “What did you offer?”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “High school was a long time ago for him. Five years? Right, Mark?” In a lower voice she added, “You know I’ll win.”
Supremely confident, Mark scoffed, “It wasn’t that long ago. Here, Neil. Take my gun, but careful you don’t pull the trigger. It’s a beast.”
“You act like you’re the only one who’s shot a gun before,” Neil said, irritably. Despite his anger, he was extremely curious as to the size of the bullets in it. The handgun was so heavy he could use it to exercise with, and it possessed a bore of such width that he could put his thumb in easily. He turned away thinking he would inspect the gun when they were doing their silly race.
Sadie stopped him. “Wait, Neil. You have to officiate.”
The word officiate, especially after the secretive nature of their bet set off bells in his head that seemed suspiciously like wedding bells. “Officiate?”
She laughed at him—it never bothered him for a moment when Sadie laughed at him—and said, “You know: On your mark, get set, go? You act like you never ran a race before.”
It had been a while. Somewhere around twenty years since he raced, and those had not exactly been races in the strictest sense. Rather they were desperate sprints, running from bullies, a daily occurrence in high school
for Neil.
“Fine. If you’re ready?” he asked.
Sadie had one foot on the high hood of the rover and was in the middle of stretching her leg with her chin pressed to her knee. Her flexibility was admirable…and worrisome to Mark who was doing little besides deep knee bends that weren’t at all impressive.
They finished and came together in the middle of the street. With little fanfare, Neil counted off: “On your mark…get set…Go!”
At the word go the pair took off, and Mark did indeed prove very fast. He was tall and strong and still in the prime of his youth. It was to his credit that he only lost by ten feet or so.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed as he came to a spluttering halt and stood bent over breathing heavily. Sadie on the other hand came jogging back with a bright smile and just the lightest glint of sweat on her face.
“You’ve gotten slow,” Neil joked. She laughed and then went into more stretches, waiting for the inevitable. She didn’t have to wait long. “What do you see in Mark?” Neil asked after less than a minute. “He barely respects you and he doesn’t respect me at all. You won’t be happy with him.”
Despite that she had prepared for this, she still sighed loudly. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s much nicer in private. I know you won’t believe me but he likes you. His jokes are just him being a guy.”
Well that would explain why Neil wasn't getting the “jokes”. He had never been much of a man’s man. He was small and somewhat effeminate, and spent most of his life detesting the frat boy, slap on the back, hardy hand shake types. As well he disliked the dirt-under-the-nails, grease half-way up your arms, plumbers crack fellows either. And he disliked gay guys as well. Everyone, especially women, assumed he was gay, which bothered him to no end.
Things had not gotten much better with the apocalypse. He still didn’t fit in. The frat boys were natural soldiers and heroes, while the mechanical types possessed skills that were highly sought after. And what did Neil have to offer?
The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors Page 10