Flesh Ravenous : A Zombie Horror Series -Book 2 Page 6

  For a moment, Lawrence stared at her. Her eyes, which he had always knew to be intense and unkind, were now soft as she gazed at him. He wanted to wipe the wetness of her tears from her cheeks. He wanted to hold her close again—if Tristan and Ally weren’t in the room—Lawrence felt Sonya would allow it, wouldn’t fight it. He knew she’d want that. He could feel it in her soft gaze. Lawrence banished the thoughts immediately, because it was getting too crazy—getting a little Meredith C. Higgins kind of crazy. “I’m fine. I’m not getting crazy or anything.” He looked away from Sonya. “My dick hasn’t been chopped off yet. So, I’m gonna be all right. I know it in my heart.”

  “That’s great, Lawrence,” Sonya replied, dryly and snidely. Back to her bitchy self, apparently. “Great that your dick didn’t get chopped off.”

  Lawrence pictured Sonya seductively saying, I’m glad that it hasn’t. I’m gonna need it later. With those imagined words, he gave himself an unexpected boner. Stop, Lawrence. Don’t think about that. Stop! “Stop,” he said out loud. “…we should stop acting like children, Sonya. Good save, Lawrence. “Right, Ally?”

  “Right,” Ally replied. “We have to think of a plan. Should we turn back or continue on? We can’t stay here.”

  Tristan went over to the living room window. “We’re close to Valley Market, but it’s a three or four mile walk back to the house from there.” He pulled back the side of the curtain to peek outside. He dropped the curtain and stepped away from the window. “I just saw a monkey.”

  “A monkey?” said Ally. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. It was more of a gorilla, actually.”

  Lawrence stood up from the couch. Finding a monkey or a gorilla in the suburbs was unlikely, though the damage of Tristan’s mind from past experimentations with various narcotics was likely. “Okay, Tristan, that’s a very nice mentally revived acid trip you’re on.” Lawrence came to the window to see for himself. He pushed the curtain aside.

  There stood a monkey outside, a few feet from the window, holding a scoped hunting rifle, dressed in a mucky and bloodstained camouflage coat. It was obviously a man in a monkey mask, which reminded Lawrence of a Planet of the Apes ape person. There was second monkey-masked man with a 9mm pistol, also with bloodstained clothing, who came up behind the other man. Their eyes weren’t clearly seen through their masks, but Lawrence knew he was spotted. The monkey with the pistol rushed out of sight.

  Lawrence pulled away from the window. “Tristan, get to the door. Make sure it’s locked!”

  Tristan hurried to the entrance hall and went for the front door. “It’s locked,” he shouted. Lawrence heard a jiggling come to the knob and a battering against the door. Sonya and Ally also heard it. The two sat up. Sonya picked up her axe. Tristan came back to the living room. “Who the hell are they?”

  “Apes,” said Lawrence. “The apes Meredith was talking about. They’re armed with guns.” So, she wasn’t one hundred percent bonkers. He now felt slightly guilty for punching Meredith to her death fall.

  “They were probably the ones shooting at us,” said Sonya. “They found us.”

  “The back door’s locked, isn’t it?” Lawrence asked Tristan.

  Tristan nodded. “I locked it.”

  “Do they wanna kill us?” said Ally. “Why aren’t they smashing a window?”

  “They won’t be doing that,” Lawrence was sure of it. “Those things outside will hear it. A lot of them could be close. Those apes don’t wanna draw attention.”

  “How many apes are out there?” Sonya asked.

  “I saw two, both with guns. There could be more.” Lawrence looked in every direction of the house. “You three, look for any other entrances to the house and check all windows. Make sure everything’s locked up. I’m going upstairs. I have an idea.”

  “We don’t even know if it’s safe upstairs,” said Sonya. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Fine. Tristan, Ally, after you search the house, meet us upstairs.”

  Tristan and Ally broke off in different directions, Ally through the dining room and Tristan through the entrance hall. Lawrence, with Sonya behind him, ran through the entrance hall and hurried up the stairs. They reached the top and rushed down the hallway. Sonya had the axe in her right hand and pistol in her left. Lawrence flicked on his flashlight.

  “What are you planning to do?” Sonya asked. She vigilantly looked into the opened rooms they passed.

  “This house has a balcony,” said Lawrence. “It was above the backyard door.” He reached the room at the end of the hallway. “I’m gonna go outside and make some noise.”

  “You’re gonna call those things? They’ll surround the house. How would we get out?”

  “If everything works out—and I hope it does—those things will be distracted enough for us to slip away. Those apes are gonna force their way in here or wait till we get out. We gotta get rid of them.” Lawrence entered the room. He swung the light around, searching the inside. “I’m paranoid enough to assume that those assholes outside are cannibals. That’s why they’re hunting us.”

  “What if they’re not hunting us?” Sonya stayed close behind Lawrence, still vigilant to her surroundings. “What if they weren’t the shooters? What if they’re just looking for other survivors?”

  “How else would they know we’re in here if they weren’t the ones after us? I’m not gonna wait and see if they’re friendly.” He aimed the light at the back of the bedroom, where he spotted closed red curtains. “Over there, let’s go.”

  Lawrence came to the curtains and slid them open. Light shined in through a glass door. He unlocked it, opened it, and stepped out to a stucco balcony. There, he had an ideal view of the backyard. He peered over the railing and immediately saw three of the apes below, standing near the backyard door. None were the same men from the front of the house. There was no telling how many there were. The apes looked up and spotted him. The masked men stepped backwards, there monkey faces fixed on Lawrence and Sonya. One man held a rifle, the two others with pistols. The three stood still, appearing ominous in their silence, faces still fixed and seemingly staring. One of the men holding a pistol, raised a hand and waved at Lawrence and Sonya, a flapping motion, which appeared playful and mocking. Once his hand went down, he reached inside his heavy coat and pulled out a crowbar. He lifted it up and waved it, as if to say to Lawrence and Sonya, “Look what I have.”

  Lawrence heard Sonya gasp behind him. He swallowed and felt the break of cold sweat throughout his body. If the apes could get inside the house, Lawrence and his friends didn’t have a chance. They were outnumbered and outgunned. He tucked his hammer light into his belt and pulled out his pistol. He pointed it at the ape with the crowbar. The other two apes lifted their guns and aimed back at Lawrence. Somehow, he had a feeling the men were smiling beneath their masks.

  “Lawrence,” Sonya whispered, “what are you doing?”

  Lawrence raised his gun and fired a shot in the air. It was to call any of the undead lurking nearby. He realized he could’ve just shot one of the apes to produce the same loud blast—two birds, one stone—or he could’ve easily shouted out, “Zombies! Zombies! Zombies! Come out, zombies!” Something of that nature. That would’ve saved him a bullet. Well, too late now, he thought.

  With another gunshot ripping the silence, the part of balcony rail across from Lawrence made a crackling pop that came with an explosion of dust and stucco flakes. One of the apes had fired, seemingly gave up on keeping quiet. Lawrence and Sonya took zipping steps backwards into the bedroom, out of range of the shooter.

  From a distance, came the moans of the ravenous monsters. Lawrence heard the apes indistinctly from where he stood. It sounded as though the masked men were in panic mode. Lawrence and Sonya returned to the balcony and looked over the railing, just in time to see three of the dead ram down a section of the backyard fence and charge toward the three monkey men. The three men turned around and fired their weapons, sending one of the hungry attackers t
o the ground with two bullet holes through the face. A second barrage of gunfire from the apes was at will and aimless, as the other two attackers rushed onward and caught the rifleman, bringing him down on his back. Four more of the dead poured out through the fence gap. The air was now filled with monstrous groans and gunshots. The two apes with pistols continued to fire at will. None of the dead fell. The ape rifleman was on the ground, screaming, as the two dead things clawed into his gut, tearing off small portions of flesh and feasting on handfuls as the man only writhed helplessly.

  “Lawrence!” Ally cried out. “Sonya!” She entered the bedroom with Tristan following behind. The two surely heard the commotion. “What’s going on here?” She and Tristan found Lawrence and Sonya out on the balcony and came over to them. “Lawrence, is everything okay?”

  The moans, groans, agonized screams, desperate cries, gunfire, and noisy feastings continued outside. And now Lawrence heard one of those dead things talk, much in the way Bambi did. “I’m hungry,” went the gruff voice of a dead man, “I’m so hungry. I need eat. I need eat!” At least that dead guy wasn’t insanely and nauseatingly horny like Bambi. What was up with Bambi anyway? Lawrence still wondered. “I need eat,” the dead guy wouldn’t stop, “I need eat, I need eat.”

  “Well…” said Lawrence. He looked at Ally and nodded. “Everything’s cool, I guess. Just don’t look down.”

  “I won’t.” Ally stood tense at the balcony doorway, not daring to look down. Otherwise, she’d likely shoot out more of her breakfast—might not even be from her mouth this time—her face already had a sickened look.

  “This isn’t cool, Lawrence,” said Sonya, still staring down at the backyard carnage. “How the hell are you so calm about this? We need to go.”

  Tristan stepped closer to the railing and viewed the yard for himself. “Lawrence,” he said with urgency, “we should go. Those things will surround the house soon.”

  Lawrence looked down once more. All three of the apes were on the ground now, each crowded by five or six of the ravenous dead. The number of those things had risen to nearly twenty. The gunshots had ceased. The screams of the three gunmen were earsplitting and horrendous, high-pitched cries of suffering and breaking minds. The apes squirmed on their backs, continuing to swat and kick, as their victimizers ripped away at clothes and skin, sinking teeth into limbs and snapping away flesh. The dead had severed the leg of one of the men, either with brutal strength or constant clawing and biting, yet that ape was still alive to scream. One of the men was finally silenced by two of the monsters, who had torn off his monkey mask and feasted on his face. More of the dead came, by twos and threes, from the sides of the house and through the fence’s opening.

  “We have to wait,” Lawrence said to his friends. He remained calm as he assessed the packs of the dead that gathered around the three victims.

  “Wait for what?” said Sonya.

  “We should go, Lawrence,” Ally urged.

  “Wait,” said Lawrence. He watched more of the dead pour into the yard. Their numbers rose to over thirty. All three of the apes were dead now—it was certain—none moved or screamed. Their bodies mangled, clothes shredded, bones and innards exposed, and organs feasted upon. He waited till no more of the dead entered the grounds, till all were occupied with tussling over severed parts and grabbing their share of meat. “Okay, okay, go,” he stepped away from the balcony, toward the bedroom entrance. “Head for the front, go!”

  Without hesitation, the four ran out of the room.

  They raced through the hall, down the stairs, leapt over the tangled body of Meredith, and made their way out the front door.

  Outside, Lawrence and party froze in their steps when they caught sight of the massacre off to the side of the house. The horde was having their feasts on the other two masked men. Three of the monsters were on their knees, holding long strips of intestines, chewing in a relaxed manner. Five tore and munched away at a detached thigh and leg. They feasted loudly, the snorting and grunting and chomping seemed to echo through the front yard. Two crowds were hunched down, huddled over blood puddles and whatever remained of the apes.

  The group wasn’t spotted, as the ravenous horde appeared well absorbed in their meals. Quietly, Lawrence led the three, beckoning to them as he walked off with soft, hurried steps toward the opposite end of the house. They began sprinting. Up ahead, was an opening in the high fence separating the lot from the neighboring house, where it looked as if a few planks had been pulled from the wood frame. The hole in fence proved wide enough for the four to slip through with ease.

  Lawrence looked back and watched his friends stop to take a breather. The girls rested their backs against the fence, while Tristan was stooped over with hands held up atop his knees, panting.

  “Why are you all stopping?” said Lawrence. “We’re not safe.” He too was exhausted and out of breath from running, but the horde outside of Meredith’s house could still be heard. “We should keep going.”

  “Lawrence is right,” said Sonya. “We’ll have to make our way…” Suddenly her eyes sprang wide with fright. “Ally, look out!”

  “Ally!” Lawrence cried.

  Ally turned her head and screamed. A woman standing over six feet, wearing a long, black and white polka dot dress, rushed up behind her. The tall woman’s mouth shot to Ally’s shoulder. Ally dropped down to a knee, continuing to scream. Tall-woman’s teeth sank into Ally’s layered foam gorget. Sonya struck Tall-woman with the blunt end of her axe. Ally got to her feet and broke away as her attacker fell back a step.

  Tall-woman regained a hunched stance, teeth bared, wild eyes on Sonya. She hissed and dashed forth. Sonya let out a crazed cry, brought up the axe, and swung downward. Half the top of Tall-woman’s head flew off. The piece of head with long, brown strands of hair swirled to the ground. Blood spurted from her carved brain as she fell forward onto the pavement.

  “Ally?” said Sonya.

  “Ally, are you…” Tristan could barely speak. “Are you…”

  Ally looked at her shoulder. “No, I’m all right.”

  Lawrence examined her gorget for himself. Indents of teeth was all there were. As ridiculous and queer-looking as the cosplay armor was, it was serving its function.

  “No more resting,” said Sonya. “Let’s move on.”

  They turned their eyes to the street and saw five of the dead headed in their direction, merely walking, glaring at the group curiously. Then a sudden awareness seemed to hit them, as if remembering that Lawrence and party were food. Their growls began as they ran for the group.

  Lawrence thought to reach for his gun, but knew it’d be a mistake. He took hold of his hammer instead. Sonya wisely didn’t go for her gun, either. Tristan unsheathed his sword.

  “We can’t outrun them,” said Lawrence. “If we stay close together, we’ll be fine.” He hoped. He could see Ally chewing her bottom lip, her pipe spear held tight and shakily in her grip. Please don’t let anything happen to Ally, he remembered Kyle’s words.

  The pack came at them. The party stood their ground.

  A balding, middle-aged man dove at Lawrence. Lawrence took hold of the dead man’s neck, held him at an arms-length distance, and began a series of head bashing with the hammer. He could hear and feel the cracking of skull and see the blood flying. Lawrence kept one eye shut, while the other eye squinted, reluctantly viewing the damage he inflicted. The balding man was dead—deader—no longer moving. Lawrence released his hold on him, letting the motionless body fall at his feet. Through his side vision, Lawrence saw that another was already down at Sonya’s feet. That corpse with a half-chopped head, much like Tall-woman. Lawrence turned around, another dead thing came at him, a black woman with braided hair and an eyeball dangling and bouncing off her cheek. He held her back with his left forearm. Her bloodstained teeth, chomping a mere foot away from his face. Ally began stabbing at the woman’s head. One stab would’ve finished it, but Ally was apparently in an adrenaline fury. Lawrence watc
hed the black woman’s face come apart as Ally stabbed and stabbed. The woman’s nose and already-loose eyeball fell, the flesh of her cheeks now hanging in bloodied strips. Lawrence pushed the dead woman off him.

  “Ally,” Lawrence took her into his arm. He felt her shaking. Her eyes a demented glare toward the woman she slew.

  Meanwhile, Tristan, with his sword, slashed away at the face and shoulder of a man in a jogging suit, who had somehow taken hold of Tristan’s pot helmet. Another man was on the ground, on his stomach, with hands clutched at Tristan’s foot. Sonya came and stood over the man on the ground. She lifted her axe, swung down, and sliced his head in two parts. Once Tristan thought to stab instead of pointlessly slash, he had his blade in Jogging-man’s head. Jogging-man fell, along with the metal pot he held.

  All five of the pack was down. The party looked around at the bodies and bloody flesh pieces that littered the grounds, probably with the fear, the paranoia, that one of those things would rise again. None did. There wasn’t a single corpse without a damaged head.

  Lawrence viewed the street, then swung around and looked at the house behind him. He could still hear the horde in the next yard, having their fill of ape men meat. The neighboring dead hadn’t been alerted by the groups noisy encounter with the pack.

  Lawrence looked at his friends. All with weapons, armor, and clothing bloody. “Let’s go,” he said to them. “To Valley Market, then.”

  Without words, the three nodded their heads and followed Lawrence away from the house’s front yard.

  They came to the street, and though it appeared empty and clear of danger, they ran down it as fast as they could.

  14

  Taking Up Arms

  Sonya

  Valley Market wasn’t far. The Westerly Acres Shopping Center sign stood high, visible above the next block of two-story houses. The rains started up as the group journeyed through the streets at a dragging pace. They had earlier tired themselves out from running—though nothing had chased—the neighborhoods seemed empty since escaping the horde. Sonya was relieved by the sudden downpour, seeing that it washed off the diseased blood on their weapons, cosplay armor, and the bags and packs they carried. Lawrence and Tristan walked ahead of Sonya and Ally, both with mouths opened wide to the sky, tongues sticking out, an attempt to take in droplets to quench their thirsts. Sonya tried the same, but it was pointless. Drinking rain was merely small, wet touches on her tongue, not enough to remedy her dry throat.