Flesh-Eater (Book 1): Fear the Fever (13 page)

“J
esus,” Chad hissed under his breath.  “I knew his parents were fucked up, but I never imagined…”  He shook his head as he took in the thick grime that surrounded the sink, the overflowing garbage bag complete with an army of flies.  “How does anyone live like this?” he asked Zeke.

“I can see why he didn’t want to come back.”

“I could’ve helped him.  We spent every day together.  Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Pride.  Would you want to admit that this was your reality?”

“No.  I guess not,” he sighed.  “I just wish I’d known.”  He trailed his hand along the table as he passed, regretting it almost immediately.  He rubbed his now sticky hand on the back of his leg.  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”  He stomped over to the door, pulling it open.

Zuckerman hadn’t been exaggerating.  It really was just a bit of grass and a fence.  Still, they went out to check all the same.

“I’ll check this side, you look over there.”  Chad waved his hand in the air.  He walked the small distance to the side of the house and peered around the corner.  It was just as bare as the rest.

“All clear!” Zeke called out.

“Clear here too!”  They met in the middle.  “I guess they must’ve got out.”  He stopped when he saw the look on Zeke’s face.  “What is it?” he asked.

“Did you close the door?”

“What?  No, you came out after me.”  Chad followed Zeke’s gaze, a chill running down his spine.  “You sure you didn’t just pull it behind you?” he whispered, pulling out his secateurs.

“And shut us out here?  Not a chance.”  He unslung his gun, cocking it.  They crept towards the door, their eyes frantically searching for whoever had shut them out.

Then came the blood curdling scream.

“S
omeone’s out there,” Tammy hissed.  “I can hear them breathing.”  Her eyes darting to the door as she backed away.

“It could be…” he was silenced by a shake of her head.

“It’s not,” she mouthed.

“He’s here, he’s come for us,” his mother whispered frantically.  “I told you he was trying to kill me!” she screamed, slipping out of his arms and running for the window.

“Ma!”

The breathing became louder as an ominous figure burst through the door.  His solid frame took up the entire space, leaving no room to slip through.  His shirt was dirty and shredded, allowing a glimpse at the bloody gash on his abdomen.  His ankle was bent in an impossible position, his foot flailing about to the side.

He hadn’t moved.  He just watched them, his face curled up into a snarl, a rumble coming from deep within.

“Jesus, Dad?” Zuckerman murmured.  “He’s one of them.”  Tears filled his eyes as he faced the man he both loved and despised.

“The devil has come for us!” his mother wailed, her fingers clawing at the window, trying to find a way to escape.  “He’ll kill us all!”  She threw her head back and screamed.

“Shhhh,” Tammy hushed, “You’ll bring more of them!”  She grabbed hold of her, her hand clamped over the hysterical woman’s mouth. “You… need… to be… quiet now.”  She was struggling to hold her still as her head shook side to side, trying to break free.  She felt the sharp bite of her teeth clamping down on her hand.  Unable to stop herself, she let go with a scream.

The blood dripping from her hand drew the attention of the man who was still standing in the doorway.  His eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her.  Zuckerman moved to stand between him and them.

“It’s the blood!  You need to stop it!  Wrap it in something!”  He kept his eyes glued to his father, as he grabbed a shirt from the drawer and threw it at her.  “Here.”

Someone was pounding on the door.  “Z!”

“It’s Chad!”  Tammy cried out.  “Chad!  We’re in here!”

“The devil is coming, the devil is coming…”

“Ma, stop!”  Zuckerman reached out for the crumpled heap on the floor that was his mother.  She sat, scratching at her arms, drawing blood.  “You need to stop,” he said softly.  “Please.  I can’t think straight.”

His father lowered his body into a crouch, like an animal about to attack its prey.

“Z?” Tammy said, her voice full of fear.

With a roar, his father leapt into the air, his face contorted.

“No!”  Zuckerman charged, knocking Tammy and his mother out of the way.  He landed on his side with a thud, his father’s large body on top of his legs.  He bucked, trying to free himself but his father was twice his size.  He reached out, grabbing a clump of his hair and pulled hard to stop his teeth from making contact with his flesh.  He could feel it ripping from the scalp.

“You will not take MY SON!” his mother bellowed in a sudden bout of sanity, diving on top of them.  She clawed at the hollow of his eyes, her nails leaving trails of red down his face.  He let go of Zuckerman and turned on her, his teeth snapping at her throat.

“Ma!  No!”  He scrambled to the bed, feeling for the baseball bat he kept under there.  He swung it above his head, bringing it down on his father’s scull with a dull thud.  His body dropped to the ground, but not before his teeth ripped a hole in her throat, leaving her spluttering, drowning in her own blood.  “Nooooo!”  Zuckerman swung the bat again, pounding it into his father’s head repeatedly, until it was just a bloody mess on the floor.  He dropped the bat, sinking to his knees as tears streamed down his face.  “I got him, Ma,” he whispered.  “The devil can’t hurt you anymore.”

S
ilence fell and the boys were worried.  Were their friends okay?  Had they made it out?  Or were they now going to have to do the unspeakable once more?

Chad began shoulder barging the door, in hopes of getting in.  The flimsy wood bowed with every blow.  One more and it should give.  With a loud crack, the door splintered, leaving enough room for them to slip through.

“Tammy?!  Z?!” Chad called out as he ran towards the front of the house.  Zeke kept close behind, his gun still cocked and ready, just in case.

“In here,” came the distressed voice of Tammy.  She had clearly been crying.

Rounding the corner they stopped abruptly, taking in the scene before them.  Tammy was kneeling on the bed, her face blotchy and tearstained.  Zuckerman was sitting with his back against the wall, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling.  Beside him lay two bodies covered in a crimson blanket of blood.  Chad recognised the woman as Zuckerman’s mother, a ragged hole ripped in her throat, thick blood still oozing from the wound.  Beside her were the remains of what looked to be a large man.

“What happened in here?” Zeke asked, lowering his gun.  “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah… I think so,” Tammy murmured.  “He… he…” she tried, but her voice kept breaking on her.

“He was one of them,” Zuckerman said, squeezing his eyes closed.  “She was hiding in my closet.”

“Did you know him?” Zeke asked.

Zuckerman blinked, turning to look at them.  “Yeah.  He was my father.”

“Oh shit,” Chad hissed.  “I’m so sorry, man.”

Zuckerman shrugged.  “I called it, didn’t I?” he snorted.  “It was only a matter of time…”  He crawled over to his mother’s frail body, stroking her hair from her face.  “She saved me,” he stated.  “She was out of her fucking tree, but she saved me, right before…” he waved his hand towards the body of his father, letting that speak for him.  “It was like she had a moment of clarity, and… she was like the mother I used to know.”  He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“It was her love for you.  Nothing is as strong as a mother’s love.  Especially when her baby is in trouble.”  Tammy smiled through her tears.  “She loved you, Z.”

Sucking air in through his nose, he nodded, his face slowly crumpling as tears began to fall.  He collapsed over his mother’s body, hugging her to him as he sobbed, mourning the mother she had been so long ago.

In what was becoming her signature move, Tammy went to Zuckerman, cradling his head in her hands and stroking his hair as he let out all the built up feelings from over the years.

Zeke motioned for Chad to join him in the hallway.

“I don’t want to sound like a dick here, but,” he peeked back through the door, “she could turn any minute now.  Someone’s going to have to … you know.”  He held his fingers to his head like a pistol.  “Take care of her.”

Chad nodded.  “I’ll do it.”  He took the gun from Zeke’s hand.  “It should be me, he’s my best friend.”

Zeke placed his hand on his shoulder.  “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.  You guys take him out to the car, so he doesn’t have to see.”

“Okay.”  Zeke pointed at the gun.  “You ever use one of these?”

Chad, looking embarrassed, shook his head.  “No.”  He scratched his head.  “Don’t I just aim and fire?”

Zeke laughed, “Yeah, that’s the basics of it.  It’ll kick back, so you need to be prepared for it.  You need to rest the butt of the gun against your shoulder, here.”  He pointed to a spot between his chest and shoulder.  “It’s already loaded, so all you need to do is pull the trigger.  Head wounds are what seem to kill them.”  He watched as Chad positioned the gun on his shoulder, re-adjusting it to sit in the right place.  “Good.  You ready?”

“No,” he said, though he nodded his head anyway.

Zeke walked in first, going to Tammy and whispering in her ear.  She looked up at Chad, a pained expression on her face.  Between them, they lifted Zuckerman to his feet.  He blew his mother one last kiss, before allowing them to guide him to the door.

“Make it quick.  Don’t let her suffer any more,” he said as he passed by.

Chad swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.  “I will,” he managed to say.  He watched them walk out to the car, making sure they were inside.  “Here goes,” he muttered to himself, slowly walking over to the bodies.  He stepped one leg on either side of her hips.  He squared his shoulders, resting the gun where Zeke had shown him.

Taking a deep breath, he rested his finger on the trigger.  “She’s not alive.  She’s not alive.  She’s not alive,” he chanted, trying to steady his breathing.  He could feel sweat trickling down his back, it was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

He looked out the window to where the others were waiting for him.  Zuckerman was staring back at him, nodding his head.  He needed to do this for him.

He turned back to his target.  There was a spot of blood on her forehead that he used as his aim.  Another deep breath.  A squeeze of the finger.

There was an explosion of red in front of his eyes and a ringing in his ears.  His shoulder felt as though it had been hit with a tonne of bricks.  He had done it.  The gun dropped to his side as he let out the breath he had been holding.

His body began to shake, his legs buckling beneath him.  He stumbled to the bed, bracing his hands on the soft mattress.  He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths, as he tried not to throw up.  When he opened them, he was faced with the photograph of Zuckerman and his parents.  They looked so happy.

He clutched the picture in his hand, careful not to smear it with blood.  Zuckerman would want this.  It was his only happy memory of them.

“S
o, what you’re saying is, they’re like us in every way, except they eat flesh?” he asked incredulously.

“From what I’ve seen, yeah,” Colton bobbed his head up and down.  “It’s like they’ve been re-wired or something.”

“Mmmm.  Do they talk?”

“I haven’t exactly tried to strike up a conversation with one.  They’re eating people, Caleb.”

“But have you
heard
them talk?”

“No.  I have not heard them talk.”  Colton shook his head, unable to comprehend why they were even having this conversation.

“Scientifically, this is quite fascinating.”  Caleb scrawled some more notes down.  He leaned back in his chair, drumming his pen against his chin.  “It has to be attacking the brain, but pinpointing different aspects.  They can still run and walk, so it isn’t effecting the entire frontal lobe.  Their craving for flesh and blood, means that their reason has to be gone, and their speech appears to have diminished, but their hearing is more acute.  Am I getting this right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“They can ‘stalk’ their prey, so they have to be thinking on some level.  And they don’t appear to feel pain?”

“Nope.  They just keep coming at ya.  I saw one get plugged with like, six shots to the chest.”  He mimicked firing a gun.  “Didn’t even flinch.”

“So the sensory nerves are dulled.  I guess that makes sense, what with them being ‘risen from the dead’.  How can you kill something that’s already dead?”

Colton shrugged.  “Dunno.”

“You said the guy was shot in the chest?”

“Yeah.  Six shots, at least.  Pretty close range too.”

“Have you seen anyone shoot them in the head?”

“Nah, but like I said, I wasn’t hanging around to watch.  I came here as soon as I realised it had spread.”  Colton picked at his sleeve.  “Buggar being on your own with these freaks running around.”  He stared at the screen on the wall, watching the dead bang against the door below.  “Why?  You think that would stop them?”

“Well, if they really have come back from the dead, then I’m picking their hearts aren’t what is keeping them alive, so-to-speak.  I think it’s all in their brain.  You take that out, you take out the … what are we calling them?”

“They’ve been saying flesh-eaters on the news.  I myself, like the term freaks.”

“Of course you do,” Caleb said dryly.  They had been flatmates for the last three years and over that period of time, he had come to rely on Colton’s particular brand of humour.  He was certainly one-of-a-kind.  “As I was saying, if you take out their brain, then, theoretically, you take out the … flesh-eater.”

“You’re not planning on going out there, are you?” Colton sat up, a worried expression on his face.  “Cos, ya know that would be crazy, right?  Please tell me that’s not what you’re thinking about doing.”

“Calm down.  I’m not going to go down there without a plan.”

“You shouldn’t be going down there full stop.  We’re safe in here.  Out there,” he waved his hand towards the screen, “we don’t stand a chance.”