Feasters

by Solomon Petchers

  Carissa separates from us and gathers herself. “Come with me.” She walks down the corridor, maneuvering over Feaster bodies.

  Andrew stops and looks up and down the hallway at the carnage and throws his hands in the air, “I mean seriously guys. You do all the cool stuff without me.”

  I laugh and clap Andrew on the back. “Next time, my friend. Next time.”

  We turn to follow Carissa down towards the end of the hallway to a door marked Basement. We follow her through it and down two flights of stairs. Carissa opens a door which leads to a hallway like the one upstairs and says, “Even though Sebastian Labs was where the mess out there started, it’s still a stronghold – as my father called it. Part of the plans for Sebastian Labs was to build two underground levels of operation for some of its more controversial experiments.”

  “Like trying to get rid of vampires?” Emily lashes, the wounds still fresh in her mind.

  Carissa pauses, nodding her head. “Before the way the world is now, I was a normal teenager. I had no idea of what things my father did as a scientist. After Case was bitten, he explained everything to us. You may not believe this, but in the beginning, he tried everything in his power to stop it, but after my mother was bitten, he obsessed about everything. His passion turned into madness. That is why he did what he did to Andrew. He felt he was so close to a cure for the Feasters. I believe he was.”

  “Are you saying you supported what your father did to us?” I say, confused poorly hiding my frustration.

  “Actually, I was against it. I tried to convince him that there were other means to get you to help, but as I said, he went crazy and wasn’t willing to hear about it. After his brother, my uncle, was killed by a rogue vampire, he developed a prejudice toward them. Toward you.” We absorb the silence for a moment before Carissa continues, “Well, anyway, my father along with some of the other surviving scientists started to convert the rooms down here into a kind of survival bunker.” I peer down the hallway. The first thing I notice is there are no signs of trauma down here. No Feaster bodies. No blood-splattered walls. The hallway looks identical to the one upstairs; large windows with doors for rooms I imagine are either Containment or Laboratory Rooms. As we follow Carissa, she continues explaining how her father converted the lower levels, “You see, my father knew that if he was unable to fix the problem that Sebastian Labs started, we would need a place to sustain ourselves. We traded off between living here and at our house. After Mother became too sick, Father thought it best to keep her at the house because he felt she would be more comfortable. Personally, I think it was because he felt nostalgic and thought that’s what she would want.”

  “What about your brother?” I ask.

  Carissa stops a moment, no doubt reminiscing about her relationship with him. She sighs, “Oh, Case. He was such a great little brother. Mom and Dad always hated keeping him in that cage, but there was no other way to contain him. As a boy, he was so cute and well-behaved. But, as one of them, he was…,” she pauses, her eyes tearing up. “Well, you know how those monsters are. While father worked on a cure, it was the only way to keep him from biting one of us.”

  “But what about your mother?” I ask, thinking about the dream of Carissa’s family on the swings.

  She pauses before continuing, “My mother was so distraught about Case. Early on my father would sedate Case because it was too painful to see him…that way. When Case would sleep, my mother would read him stories and pray with him. One night, when the pain was too much to bear, she opened Case’s cage and held him. She fell asleep with Case in her arms. He woke up before she did, and Case did what Feasters do.” She pauses. “By this time, Father had realized that he could slow down the conversion process by continually supplying fresh human blood to a recently bitten human. So, we started pumping our blood into her. For a while, it worked, but we were running out of time.”

  As we approach the first large window, Carissa shifts the subject. “Like I said, as part of my father’s plan to help us survive, he converted these rooms to house some types of farm animals. I think this will help with those hunger pains.” She flicks on the switch and illuminates the room. Inside, a large chicken coop rests in the corner, and around it, a dozen chickens mill around pecking the ground covered with straw. Then, she walks across the hall to the other window and turns the light on, revealing more animals: three large pigs huddle together around a trough.

  Andrew’s eyes widen, “Oh man, I used to love bacon when I was a human. I’ve never had pig blood. Please tell me that it’s as good as bacon.”

  Emily laughs, “Besides cows, pigs used to be my favorite. I think you’re going to love it.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for? I need to try me some bacon blood.”

  Carissa leads us in waiting at the door. As we walk past, she comments, “I’ll give you some time alone.” Then, she looks down at her clothes, which were covered with blood. “I need to get out of these clothes and clean up. When you finish, I’ll be down the hallway, the second door on the right.” She closes the door and leaves us alone.

  We don’t talk to each other. Each of us clamps down on a vein, careful not to drink too much so we don’t hurt the pigs. After we finish, we sit completely satisfied, luxuriating in the fact that we haven’t had a meal in what feels like ages. Silence dominates our thoughts, which is a rarity given how close we are. A closeness that always guarantees that most moments are never mundane.

  After a few moments of letting our food settle and trying to make sense of the events of the last twenty-four hours, I break the silence. “So, how’s everybody?” Instead of words, the contented looks on Emily’s and Andrew’s faces as they sit close together to reconnect says it all. “Should we go see if our host needs anything?”

  Before standing up, Andrew gives the hog one last hug and kisses it on its snout, “I think I love you, Big Bertha!” We look at him, rolling our eyes. Andrew throws his hands in the air, “I figured I should name her since we are going to be best friends.”

  We head out into the hallway and stop at the door Carissa told us to meet her at. I knock. We wait only a few seconds before she opens the door. “So, how was it?”

  “How was what?” Emily asks.

  “Um, dinner?” Carissa cracks a smile.

  Andrew laughs, “Oh that? It was delicious. Thank you so much for that, and for not killing me earlier.” An awkward silence fills the space between us. “Guys, I’m kidding.” Still, none of us laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Too soon?”

  I chuckle, “I’d say so.”

  “Anyway, I remembered how the three of you wanted to all stay in the same room back at the house. So, I set up this room for you. It’s morning and I’m assuming you all need to sleep. Please, come in and let me know what you think.” Carissa nervously opens the door and leads us in. It’s obvious that she went out of her way for us. There are three beds, meticulously made, set up in different parts of the converted office space. “So, what do you think?” Carissa asks, her fingers clenched nervously together anticipating a positive answer.

  “Carissa, thank you for doing this. Honestly, you didn’t have to, but we really appreciate it,” I say to her.

  “Yes, Carissa. Thank you,” Emily adds. “It’s perfect.”

  “Yay!” she exclaims, clapping her hands with the energy of a cheerleader. “And, through that door, you will find the bathroom, shower, and towels in the utility closet. The pressure isn’t great, but the water is filtered. And, I have one last surprise. There’s a second door in the bathroom. It’s another closet. There is a stacked washing machine and dryer. We ran out of soap months ago, but we found these fragrance drops that do a pretty good job of hiding smells. It’s better than nothing. In the utility closet, under the towels are some hospital scrubs to wear while you wait for your clothes to finish.”

  I step forward. “Carissa, thank you.”

  Carissa tightens her lips, holding back some tears. “It’s the least I co
uld do after everything.”

  Once again silence settles in. Emily breaks it, “Carissa?”

  “Yes?”

  “We are really sorry about your family. All of us have lost someone, so we know how you feel.”

  With tears pooling in her eyes, she responds, “Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble our family has put you through.”

  “We’ll work on putting it in the past,” I say while Andrew and Emily nod in agreement.

  She nods her head and moves toward the door. Before she closes it all the way, she asks, “Did you really let my brother burn in the fire?”

  Emily explains, “No, we couldn’t do it. We freed him.”

  Carissa looks relieved. “I knew you were good. I know he’s really not with us any longer, but he’s still my little brother. I couldn’t imagine that type of fate for him.” She laughs nervously. “I really couldn’t imagine any of this as our fates. I guess I just hoped that all of this would work out and we’d wake from this nightmare. I know that hope is something we should hold on to, but sometimes it’s too painful. With you all here, I’m encouraged again. I feel like we have hope.” She pauses. “Have a good rest. I’m going to get some sleep, too.”

  About an hour later, the three of us are freshly cleaned and in some surprisingly comfortable hospital scrubs. It’s been so long since any of us have had a shower. In the cabinet under the sink, we find about a hundred hotel-sized soaps. It had been a while since we’ve even had soap. None of us even complained that the water was a little chilly.

  Lying in bed, I watch Emily and Andrew reconnect. Their last interaction hadn’t been a good one. I don’t think apologies are needed, just time to think and appreciate what they have. I mean, seriously, they are perfect together. Their joy brings a smile to my face as I direct my thoughts to Carissa’s words about hope.

  Night after night, I spent countless hours looking out a window in a house that wasn’t ours. I searched for life. I searched for something else that wasn’t this. I searched for hope. For so long, hope was and still is the one thing that keeps me going. Those of us, human or vampire, who have survived this long during the apocalypse share that in common. We aren’t driven by greed or popularity or trivial things like when things were normal. We are driven by the hope that one day this will all be over. If that isn’t an option, then we’ll be able to move on, find other survivors, and depend on each other to build a new life. Hope is the common ground that Emily, Andrew, me, and now, Carissa must cling to if we plan on surviving in the land of Feasters.

  Acknowledgments

  I am beyond grateful to everyone who has supported this journey. First of all, Avery Poznanski, thank you for your grammatical prowess. I knew from the time you tore apart A Ghost in the Attic that you were going to be my go-to editor. I appreciate your honesty and feedback on Feasters. You are brilliant! To Lynn, Carissa, Angelica, Lisa, Juliana, and Scott, thank you for taking the time to read through Feasters. Your insight and suggestions were incredibly valuable for me. To my nephew, Scott, thank you for your part in this journey. I know your father is very proud of the man you are.

  Thank you to those of you who have purchased and promoted A Ghost in the Attic. Hopefully you bought the book thinking you were supporting a friend or a relative and walked away enjoying a story about friendship and acceptance. For every student who bought a book at a book signing or an assembly, you are one of the main reasons I immerse myself in writing stories. This part has truly been the most rewarding.

  To my kids, Katrina, Sophia, and Jesse, thank you for being the best kids a dad could ask for. Never let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough. You are and you always will be! Don’t settle.

  To Veronica, my love and my partner in crime, thank you for allowing me to bounce ideas off you. I appreciate the constant read throughs and the honesty. Most of all, thank you for believing in me and encouraging me to move forward with this crazy idea of being an author. I am thankful God brought you in my life!

  About the Author

  Born in New York City and raised on Long Island, Solomon Petchers has always had an affinity for scary stories where friends come together to defeat whatever bad guy or entity they face. It’s no wonder that Stephen King is his favorite author. After getting his teaching degree, he moved to Southern California, where he spent all of his 23 years in education. Currently, Solomon lives in Murrieta, California with his wife, Veronica, and three amazing children. When he’s not writing or teaching, Solomon spends time with family or going on dates with his wife. Their favorite choice of movie. Anything suspenseful or outright scary! In 2019, he fulfilled a lifelong dream and released his debut novel, A Ghost in the Attic.

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