by Radke, K. E.
At the same time Camille’s little girl from down the street appeared, humming and walking on the sidewalk. They made eye contact and she gave Lincoln a little wave keeping her pace on the trail. Lincoln almost turned around to see who she was waving at. Instead of waving back he quickly shuffled into his house, threw the three deadbolts on his door and plugged in the electric gadget. Peeking out the blinds, he watched the little girl continue on her way until she was out of sight.
☢
Thundering down the street and rumbling to a stop halfway on Lincoln’s lawn, and halfway in his driveway, Noah parked not bothering to straighten out. Not that it was possible. Noah’s sleek, matte, black truck was a massive master piece in his mind. A truly glorious feat in his life, with run flats three feet high and spotlights up top. He could tip over a yellow school bus if he wanted to.
Climbing out of the truck Noah peered over his aviator sunglasses watching Lincoln peek at him through the blinds. The cool air nipped at Noah’s bald head as he hopped down standing almost two feet taller than the tires on his truck. Noah walked up to the house but knew better than to touch the door. Instead he patiently waited for Lincoln to acknowledge his presence.
The door opened an inch and then a bit wider, Lincoln filling the space, staring down at Noah from his formidable height. Noah tried to hide his envy with a sly grin at seeing his fellow prepper he met on the internet four years ago on social media. While most people aren’t impressed by a man standing at four feet eleven inches, they are usually impressed by the structures he builds and his monstrous truck.
Preppers all over the United States contacted Noah for his useful talent of carpentry. He traveled a lot, and had connections nationwide. Hidden storage was Noah’s expertise, giving him access to many hidden bunkers and households. Discretion was the main reason why Noah had so many clients, but Lincoln stepped out of his house instead of inviting him in. It was only their seventh meeting in person. So, he didn’t expect more than a conversation, after all, they are still strangers, even after all the online conversations over the years, one can’t be too careful. Especially in a world on the verge of chaos.
“You sure no one will know what it is?” Lincoln asked gruffly crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“Unless you let someone in on the secret,” Noah replied stepping away from Lincoln gesturing for him to follow. He kept his hands out of his leather jacket so Lincoln wouldn’t question what was in his pockets as they walked to the bed of his truck. From their chats online Noah knew Lincoln’s paranoia was much higher than most preppers. Noah climbed up entering the truck bed from the side by mounting the massive tire. Flinging down the tailgate he slid out a ramp and pushed forward the chicken coop Lincoln had ordered a few months ago.
The back of the coop was facing Lincoln but it wasn’t a typical chicken coop design. It’d been camouflaged into a dog house—one of the dullest dog houses he’d ever seen. Perfect, he thought. Noah adjusted the pulley and cargo straps around the dog house before easing it down the ramp toward Lincoln.
Once it was safely on the ground, Lincoln stood in front of it obscuring anyone’s wandering eyes, impatiently waiting for Noah to roll the dolly down the ramp. Right as Noah’s feet landed on concrete, Wyatt’s voice broke the silence startling Lincoln, “Getting a dog?”
Trying to hide the fact that Wyatt snuck up on him without him knowing, Lincoln tried his best to look irritated, “You going to copy everything I do from now on? Or is this your attempt at being neighborly?”
“Both,” Wyatt admitted leaning over to look at the dog house. “Why is there a latch on the door?” Before Wyatt had the chance to unhook it, Noah ran the dolly into his shin so his attention would go elsewhere. He did not need to lose a sale because a dumb ass neighbor can’t mind their own business. In the corner of his eye he could see Lincoln bristling already, probably wondering if the dog house was a good camouflage. It wouldn’t matter anyway, everyone in Dessarillo would know Lincoln had chickens in a matter of days if not hours, not that Noah would ever say that out loud.
“Do you know what preppers do with dogs?” Noah asked the question in a mocking tone raising his eyebrows. He answered quickly with, “Eat them so we don’t have to turn to cannibalism.” He found grossing out the nosey neighbors was the easiest tactic to get rid of them. It also usually won him points with his clients.
“Preppers also seem to have a common attitude problem,” Wyatt noted angrily, his full attention on Noah.
“Smart people often do,” Noah stared up at Wyatt silently challenging him to say something else.
Wyatt opened his mouth but his voice was drowned out by high-pitched screams reverberating through the neighborhood. Wyatt, Noah, and Lincoln snapped their heads around trying to locate the person. Lincoln’s hand draped over his gun at the same time Noah’s did. Wyatt stared enviously at the two men, wishing for the second time in his life that he owned a gun, but he didn’t come empty handed. His hand draped over the golf club at his side.
Twelve
A frightened little girl loomed in the distance screaming down the middle of the street. Every few seconds she glanced behind her causing her to swerve all over the place. The three men followed her line of sight to a woman following her in the distance at a slower pace. The sluggish woman unconcerned about the growing space between them. Nothing was called out to the girl to slow her down, and the woman following wasn’t threatening or yelling obscenities to scare the girl away.
The high-pitched screams didn’t bother Lincoln, or the fact that the little girl was being chased because it happened on a daily basis in the neighborhood. Usually screaming to go back inside or throwing a tantrum. What caught Lincoln’s attention was the dark red color saturating their clothes. He could tell by the splatter pattern it was not meant to there. Lincoln shivered, the prickly feeling like ice cold water dripping down his back on a warm day.
Anyone home for the day had dragged themselves to a window to see what the commotion was outside. One by one, neighbors unlocked their doors in an attempt to help, all eyes on the little girl drenched in blood, screaming her head off while running wildly in the street. And one by one their gaze shifted in the direction to see what she was running from.
With blood splashed down her front and staining her mouth like she’d drawn red lipstick all over her face, everyone recognized Janice. An overweight woman, her paunchy stomach leading the way as she gradually followed in pursuit of her daughter, Isabel. Janice, always well dressed, never left her house without a full face of makeup and every strand of hair in place. Now her pallor was a sickly gray, her clothes ripped and askew, and she only had one high heel on, making her hobble—the reason her pace was so slow.
Everyone watched her pass by, keeping their distance out of fear and shock from her grisly appearance. Not a word was said to her until Karen, an elderly neighbor, retired from teaching walked off her porch being the closest to her. She approached the bloodied woman staying on the walkway near her lawn and holding her head high feigning bravery.
“That’s not a good idea,” Noah muttered under his breath to no one in particular.
Lincoln watched Karen take a few steps in Janice’s direction. He desperately wanted to command Karen to go back inside, but he knew better than to try to tell the stubborn woman what to do. She wasn’t on Lincoln’s lawn the other day when everyone united to force Lincoln to share his bunker and supplies. Someone had to have told her the stories about Burt, gossip flies around the neighborhood.
Elderly and living alone, Karen had a strong mind but she was rail thin and delicate. Always trying to be helpful, the woman took orders from no one. Almost a year ago she slipped and broke her arm. The neighborhood rallied around her, helping when they could, but no one was trying to protect her now.
Karen’s voice carried through the neighborhood as she called out to Janice, “Were you attacked? What’s happened? Should I call the police?”
Janice’s head tilted and she
rolled her neck eyeing Karen a few feet away. Articulating nothing to Karen’s questions, Janice snapped her jaw instead, her teeth clicking hard against each other. Janice switched directions—her focus on Karen—completely ignoring her screaming daughter who managed to turn the corner onto another street. All of the neighbors watching seemed relieved she intervened, because no one else wanted to offer a helping hand.
“Karen, go back inside your house,” Wyatt hollered to her from his spot. A sweat broke out over his forehead as he clenched the golf club in his hand stepping forward. The erratic behavior and bloody clothes had Wyatt convinced Janice was going to attack Karen. The blood pulsed in his ears as Karen looked to Wyatt unsure if she should listen to him.
Karen lifted her hand to her nose trying to block the awful smell lingering around Janice. She decided to listen to Wyatt stepping backward shouting firmly, “Stay where you are Janice.”
Ignoring the command Janice kept staggering forward at a steady pace and reached out to Karen like she was asking for help. A gesture that made Karen hesitate from taking another step away from her.
Janice’s fingers grazed Karen at first, clutching at a tiny bit of fabric but they gained purchase and soon Karen’s voice echoed over the neighborhood, demanding Janice to let go of her.
All three men watched in horror as Janice forcefully pulled at Karen’s shirt until her fingers wrapped around Karen’s shoulder causing the woman to shriek in pain. Both women were about the same height and Janice dipped her head down at the same time Karen tried to jerk backward. Stumbling, Karen fell under Janice’s weight, knocking the air out of her lungs. With all of her strength, Karen tried to push the heavy woman off her, but Janice easily overpowered the old woman snapping her jaw until her teeth finally sunk into flesh.
Breaking through the skin, blood sprayed across Janice’s face staining her teeth as they grinded against Karen’s collar bone. She pulled at the flap of skin with her hands and teeth ripping it across Karen’s shoulder, not bothered by the red liquid trickling down her face and staining her hands. Not waiting another moment, Janice shoved the chunk of meat still attached to Karen into her mouth and started chewing mindlessly. A metallic scent mixed with the unbearable stench as blood spilled from the wound soaking the ground below them.
Ripping at the bloody hole she made, Janice fingered the sinew, muscle, and veins with her nails digging for meat to scoop up in her hand before she bent over the wound tearing off another chunk of skin with her mouth. The screams ripped from Karen’s lungs would haunt the entire block as they joined Isabel’s faded ones.
Karen’s house glowed in the background as twilight yielded to the stars. The lights filtered through the windows illuminated Karen fighting for her life on the soft lawn soiled by the growing puddle of blood beneath her. Nature was silently listening to the suffering pleas of the old woman. She wasn’t aware anyone was nearby, delirious from the pain and blood loss. Karen begged for help through agonizing tears using her forearms as a shield unable to get Janice off of her. Blood trailed down her arms, the warm liquid dripping across her chest from the broken skin where chunks were torn away by teeth.
Lincoln and Wyatt barreled over the pavement when Karen toppled over, trees, grass and concrete blurring together as they ran as fast as they could to reach her. The shrieking cries for help echoed over the neighborhood like a siren. Wyatt was slightly faster than Lincoln, only slowing when he caught a glimpse of a white jumpsuit reflecting under a lamp post.
“Someone please tell me they saw that,” Noah said bewildered, huffing and pointing at the gruesome scene.
At the edge of Karen’s lawn, they all came to a halt a few feet away from the two women. Wyatt pointed to The King hobbling down the road, and Lincoln caught sight of him right before he disappeared behind a house.
“I’m going after that one. You take care of Janice,” Wyatt raced down the street following the white jumpsuit. Wyatt loathed Janice. She was a workaholic realtor, constantly on the move and never giving Isabel the attention she needed. The type of mother that throws money at all of life’s problems.
No one knows anything about Janice’s personal life because the topic of every conversation with her is money. Phoebe constantly complained about her because Isabel liked to take her anger out on Melanie. Janice always brushed the problem away, searching for pity for being a divorced, single parent. Taking advantage of people was Janice’s expertise, especially if she was trying to pawn her daughter off on someone.
Karen’s hoarse, shrill voice was weakening as she called for help, and Lincoln knew they were too late. Her waning energy to protect herself attested her death was certain if she didn’t get medical help soon. He was positive Janice had contracted the virus he’d been researching. Witnessing the insatiable appetite firsthand made his insides squirm. He wanted to help, but fear weighed on his feet and kept them from moving. Petrified he might already be infected with the disease, he did the only thing he could to console himself—stand silently with his hand on his gun.
Lincoln took a step back watching the grisly scene. Paranoia whispered in his ear, she’s already gone. He was not a hero. He was a survivor. And survivors don’t risk their lives for someone who was already dead. Death had claimed her the moment she fell, the moment she decided to be helpful, and when she hesitated to listen to her gut feeling.
The best outcome for everyone would be to put a bullet in Janice and Karen, and get rid of the bodies as soon as possible without government interference. The moment they find out the virus is here, the whole city will be locked down. No one would be able to leave, or worse, they could annihilate the tiny town.
Considering the last couple of days the government’s probably already on their way if they’re not here yet. Witnesses in the grocery store probably notified the police of all the dead people, surely the autopsies have been flagged.
Noah stood a few steps behind Lincoln waiting for the man to make a move. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the atrocity happening before his eyes, but he had to make sure it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. It’d been a long drive and he was tired, maybe he’s asleep and dreaming. Janice slurped up pieces of Karen hanging out of the corner of her mouth making Noah hunch over to gag and heave as the bile rose in his throat. The piece of bloody skin glimmered in the light from the windows as it disappeared into Janice’s mouth.
“I can’t restrain her,” Lincoln said desperately hinting at what he needed to do and unholstered his gun.
“Don’t go anywhere near her,” Noah nodded in agreement not taking his eyes off the cannibal woman covered in blood.
Lincoln aimed, his finger itching to pull the trigger aware of the audience watching him. His first instinct was to kill Karen, to put the woman out of her misery but he shifted the Glock toward Janice and took a deep breath.
Another pair of feet pounded against the cement, shoving Lincoln’s arm right as he pulled the trigger causing him to miss. The noise from the gun was loud causing the ringing in her ears as she blew through the two men standing around and not helping from her point of view. Phoebe had watched the whole thing from her house and quickly put on her scrubbing gloves before searching for Ethan’s bat.
Janice’s weight alone probably cracked several of Karen’s frail bones. She cringed, flinching the moment Karen fell and waited for someone to help her, but no one did! She watched Wyatt, Lincoln and another man all run to the edge of Karen’s lawn but no further. Wyatt going off to only God knows where.
Fury coursed through Phoebe’s veins as she watched Janice tearing off more flesh to stick in her blood stained mouth. She’d imagined this moment in her head several times, just never thought it’d be done under such dour circumstances. Swinging hard with a battle cry escaping her lips, Phoebe knocked Janice square in the face. Bones crunched with a sickening sound and Janice tumbled off of Karen, landing on her back with her face caved in, now unrecognizable. She lay there motionless, blood gushing out of her nose.
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nbsp; Phoebe’s eyes darted over the massive amount of blood pooling around Karen. Unprepared she lifted her forearm to her mouth trying to hide her gag reflux as she gazed over the divots where skin should be and the shredded flesh dangling off Karen’s arms, shoulders and neck. The fetid smell wasn’t helping, it made Phoebe breathe out of her mouth instead of her nose, tasting the acrid scent on her tongue.
She closed her eyes for a moment to keep her stomach contents from rising and opened them to Karen’s pale, frightened face. The woman was barely moving and the only words coming out of her were whispers and moans. Phoebe’s heart lurched in her chest, giving her the strength to ignore the blood. She had to stop the bleeding and get Karen somewhere clean and safe.
In a soothing voice Phoebe spoke to Karen, helping her into a sitting position so Phoebe could pull her from her armpits—not hurting her mangled arms—toward the safety of her home. Karen cried out in pain once before going limp.
“Lincoln I need towels! Something to stop the bleeding!” she yelled snapping him out of whatever reverie he was having. Lincoln crossed the yard avoiding the blood soaking into the ground and crossed the threshold into Karen’s house.
Wyatt finally showed up breathing heavily to help his wife. Seeing his wife covered in blood and tears streaking down her face, he raced to her side making sure she wasn’t harmed, throwing the golf club on the lawn. Not wanting to lose precious time Phoebe pushed him away. Struggling with Karen’s weight, she contemplated on how to move her without causing any more damage.