The Creepers (Book 2): From the Past (14 page)

“Sgt. Post, if you haven’t noticed, you
are no longer in a cage. You are free to go as you please, but know if you kill
me no one here will lift a finger to ensure you are properly hydrated or fed.
They won’t actively seek to kill you, but they won’t help either. Only the
strong, and right now, in order to remain strong, you will sit down and eat.”
The fat man plopped a thin straw into the brown liquid.

Post held the weapon, fighting off the
blurs creeping in at the edge of his vision. He studied the man’s ruddy face,
the busted capillaries, the serious and concerned look, the lack of fear, and
flipped the weapon around, offering it back to its rightful owner.

“Keep it. There are plenty more where
that came from. Take this. Drink slow. You’ve had nothing but sugar water for a
few days. The last thing we need is you vomiting. I don’t think even a bastard
as tough as you would be able to handle it.”

Post put the gun in his waistband and
took the cool jar. He looked at the drink. He could not see the other side of
the room through it. It looked like coffee but smelled like honey.

“Please, if I was going to kill you, I’d
of shot you while you slept. Who has time for poison? Who really cares about
your death, Sgt. Post? She already ended any threat you ever even dreamed of
posing against her. Drink and enjoy. But not too much, and slow.”

The act of drawing liquid through the
straw sent terrible pain all through his mouth, but the sweetness of the drink
was worth it. Well worth it. He sipped greedily.

“It’s going to be awhile before you can
talk again, but you’ll be back on your feet if you listen to me.”

Post nodded at the fat man. He raised
his head, rolled his eyes a bit, trying to communicate.

“What is it?”

Post pointed at the man and rolled his
fingers.

“How rude of me. Sgt. Post. I am Pathos
Two, a traveling historian of the dead.” The fat man nodded.

Post looked at the man, arching his
eyebrows. He had no idea what the fat man was talking about. To Post, the man
looked soft, and he couldn’t quite figure out how he managed to stay so heavy.

“I had a name once, as did my brothers.
Not my actual brothers mind you, but brothers nonetheless. However, we gave
them up, just as we gave up our old lives for the preservation of humanity's
losses. Think of us as chroniclers of history. But even such observers as
ourselves are not without cause. So here I am, a doctor of sorts once, though
not recognized by any official medical body, but that doesn’t really matter
anymore. Sgt. Post, be thankful I know my shit, and that I am here. Nothing
more.” The fat man nodded his head towards the drink. “That might be my finest
work yet. Two parts honey, one part water, a little molasses, various herbs and
spices, a measure of fatty broth, none of it human I assure you, laced with a
little resin from my early bloomers. You should be feeling a bit better soon
enough.” Pathos Two laughed, which made his belly jiggle. A band of pale flesh
between his waist and bunched up shirt showed, like some beaming smile. A mouth
bigger than the one on his face.

Post welcomed the brew. He already felt
better, but knew the deceptiveness of his own body very well. In an hour, he’d
be scraping the bottom of the barrel just to stay conscious. He still couldn’t
believe the force of her punch. The impact was like a violent car crash. Her
fist was the wall and his face was the weak imported aluminum and plastic of
the later models, before it all went to shit. He was so sure he had her. In his
mind it should have been easy, but he had underestimated his opponent, as he
had done on the field many weeks in the past. He had failed them all and now
this was his punishment.

He was one of the enemy.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead, you
know,” Pathos Two said, licking his stubby fingers. “I’ve seen her defeat many
men twice her size. The power of her hands is nothing short of extraordinary.
If that blow caught you on the temple, we wouldn’t be having this
conversation.”

The thought never left Post’s mind.
She’d spared him for a reason. He hadn’t quite worked out the why yet. Perhaps
he amused her on some level, or maybe it was far more sinister a motive. Maybe
she kept him alive to break him further, but somehow he doubted that. Such
behavior didn’t fit the compact package that made up Miss Moya. He shook his
head, wondering, trying to communicate the thought with his eyes as best he
could.

“She continues to surprise me, to thwart
my plotting brain, and every time I think I’ve got her pegged she goes and does
something like that,” he said, waving his plump digits at Sgt. Post. “Doesn’t
make any sense, but that’s why I’m the observer, not the leader.”

Post swirled the drink, chasing the last
of the liquid with the straw. He slurped it all down.

“You should really get some rest. You
can stay here for the duration, if you don’t mind the bottles and smells. It’s
not the best quarters, but it beats having to tough it out with the rest of the
unprepared. And I know it beats residing in the cages with those that refused
her hand. You’re not one of them, are you, Sgt. Post? One of those that have to
prove themselves by self inflicted stupidity?”

Post shrugged.

“Don’t let that brain go to waste, Sgt.
Post. You’re better than that. She knows it and I know it.”

Horns echoed outside.

“Might want to keep that gun handy. That
isn’t normal. Let me go see what’s going on.” The fat man moved faster than he
should’ve been able to.

Post finished the last of his drink and
went to the door. It seemed the rising sun had brought a little chaos with it.
He sat on the threshold and smiled, swinging his legs like a little kid. For a
moment he forgot the pain and watched the attack unfold. He only wished he had
a mouth to cheer the wild lunatics on with.

Howard wiped the sweat from her brow,
tucking her stray curls behind her ears. Her chest rose and fell with an
unhealthy rapidity, and she stirred, often moaning in her sleep, but the fever
was breaking. He rolled back the bandage to reveal the wound, though he knew
the true danger lurked where he couldn’t see. He only hoped he’d been quick
enough to clean and dress and . . . He shook his head. There were too many
variables.

The wound was swollen and hot to the
touch, crusted with blood, pus, and a spider’s web of bruises, like some
wretched tattoo, reached well below her breast. He used some of their fresh
water to flush it then he applied another round of herbs and fresh bandages. He
covered her again and held her close, rocking her as he had each day for the
past week.

They’d managed to cover a significant
amount of ground in the days that followed. Jennifer had proved to be extremely
gritty and stubborn. He never thought dealing with his father would have
prepared him for future encounters, but it had. Howard learned long ago that
you didn’t fight a stubborn bastard. You let them hit the wall on their own,
and you damn sure never said I told you so. He never said a word to her. He
didn’t even bother to caution her to rest, for he knew it wouldn’t sink in.

Three days into the angry trek farther
north, Jennifer hit the wall, or rather, the wall hit her. The fever came quick
and the tremors followed thereafter, and just like that, Howard became an
offshoot of his father. He carried Jennifer for miles until he’d found a spot
safe enough to stop. They’d spent the last few days tucked within the rotted
trunk of a massive tree.

The town they’d been traveling through
had been broken in half. One half lay covered in weeds while the other rested
at the bottom of the ocean, nearly erased. Howard looked down into the
sparkling water. He could make out the shapes of houses, windows, cars, most of
them almost completely reformed by the waters. Bits of broken homes poked from
the side of the cliff and the watery thoughts of several Creepers haunted him
unmercifully.

Despite it all, he found the sound of
the ocean soothing. It helped fade out the torment of the Creepers. He’d been
testing the extent of his gift, moving them, prodding them, gathering them in
clusters, and he needed a break, for the strain was wearing him thin. The
crashing waves helped him lower their volume.

“How long?” Jennifer rasped.

“About twelve hours this time.” Howard
held a bottle of water to her dry lips. “Drink. You need your fluids.”

Jennifer sipped the water slowly. She
rose on her good elbow, grimacing from the effort. “It hurts like hell. But I
can feel my fingers today.”

“That’s good. I think the worst is past,
but we have to keep that thing super clean. We have to hunker down for a
while.”

“We can’t.” She coughed on the water.
“We’ve lost too much time already.”

“Time won’t matter when you’re dead.”

“Neither will any of this, but I’m not
dead yet. We eat, we hydrate, we move.” She shook the bottle of water at him.
“It’s not up for negotiation. We still have a lot of ground to cover, and not
easy terrain either.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he
heard himself yelling at his father to take it easy. “We move, that’s fine, but
we move at my pace and stop when I say.”

“Fine.”

Howard unrolled the solar charger from
his pack. He plugged the small device in and said, “Funny how these things at
one time were able to instantly communicate with their counterparts all over
the world.”

“No one left to talk to anymore.”

“How can we be so sure? There’s a lot of
world out there.”

“There’s a lot of dead world out there.”

“I know I’m the central device in your
plan, but you still haven’t told me what that plan involves.”

Jennifer picked up the device. “Bring up
the maps.”

“They’re twenty years out of date. We’ve
been using their general direction, but as far as details, we have nothing…
We’re looking at half of a map and it’s fish food.”

Jennifer kissed him on the cheek. “Trust
me, okay?”

“I don’t trust anybody.”

“Smart man. Now bring up the maps.”

Howard worked the touch screen, trying
to fathom how the device would’ve worked in his father’s day when linked to
computers orbiting the earth. It was almost magic in his mind, almost, had he
not had the persistent Doc Danielson as his father. They’d spent many nights up
in the rooftop gardens watching the old tech burn through the atmosphere. He’d
have given anything for one of those satellites now. Instead, he got an
unpredictable map program his father worked into the device. It had locked the
thing up entirely a few times already.

He zoomed in on the display, trying his
best to pinpoint their location.

“I knew we were close to the Oregon
border. I can smell it. Even though it’s been years, you never forget that
smell.” Jennifer held her shaking finger over the map. “See here.” She pointed
at the far right corner of Oregon. “There was a town here back before we were born.
It’s not there now. Nothing but bears and Creepers, but there was a storage
place there, and still is. It’s not easy to find now, and it’s not easy to get
into, but it’s there.”

“What kind of storage?”

“Chemicals, explosives, weapons. Sgt.
Post had us wall off certain parts because the things stored there had become
unstable, but there were a great many devices and compounds that held up. The
climate systems are still working. There are endless rows of explosives,
Howard. Stuff we can use to hit them where it hurts and hit them good.”

Howard studied the crazed look in her
eyes. “But there are only two of us.”

“And more than a million of them. They’d
make the perfect bombs, Howard. You do your thing while I lace them up with the
gear and you move them. Move them against the army.” She coughed hard. “Even if
they fall, they will still be bombs. We lay a net around the field. We move
them and we fucking hit them and end this. The tech still works. We used it in
the field all the time. It’s simple to use. A couple of wires, a detonator, and
a switch. I need to be close, but by myself I can hide. When the time is right
. . . boom! They won’t know what hit them.”

It all made sense to him then, with her
whole unrealistic plan exposed. He knew what she wanted all along, but he’d
been silently hoping for another way. Practicing wasn’t enough. He couldn’t
handle a horde of his own. It wasn’t possible. “I . . . I can’t. We’ve been
through this. A few here and there keep me out of commission for days. I can’t
even think about that many. About all those voices. All those images. Jennifer,
I can’t do that . . . open myself up to that.”

“You can,” she said, kissing him. “You
will.” She kissed him again. “You were brave enough to test me, brave enough to
kill, and brave enough to save me. I’d say you’re more than capable.” She
hugged him, ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed him again.

Howard pulled her tight against his
chest. He searched her face for answers that didn’t exist, for reassurances he
knew would never come. There were only cold hard facts there. He’d signed up
for it. Offered himself to the task, and now he had to commit, and he would,
but somewhere deep down he knew he would not survive this.

Jennifer drew her fingers along his
cheek. Cupping his face in one hand, she kissed him good and long. The wind
picked up, scattering pine needles about them. Rain began to fall, pattering on
the already soaked earth. She straddled him, undoing his belt and clumsily
fumbling with her own.

“Let me,” Howard whispered. He rolled
them both over gently, careful to avoid her wound, and shielded her from the
rain. Cold rivulets ran down the backs of his thighs as he entered her. She
moaned, pulling him closer, and for a moment all of what was to come was
forgotten. They made love to the sound of falling rain.

They fell into the act, fell into each
other, and the world fell away until only raw emotion remained. The tension of
their world was overridden by the sensations of pure humanity. Together they
released all that weighed them down, thrusting and grinding until they lay
there panting, hoping their racing hearts wouldn’t explode.

After, Howard held her close and stroked
her hair. Her head rested on his chest as he watched the thick gray clouds roll
by. He felt that giddiness again as he listened to her breathe. For the first
time in many days, she was breathing even, almost easy, but she felt warm. The
fever had returned. She stirred, smiling in the throes of some dream. Her legs
entwined with his.

Howard didn’t want it to end. He wanted
to lay there with her forever. He wanted to forget about the world and just be
with her. A Creeper entered his effective range, flickering in his mind,
jarring him from the moment. No matter how good he felt, he’d never be able to
escape them, to escape that intrusion as long as they survived, as long as he
continued to let them exist.

He’d never thought of them like that
before. He always viewed them with pity, a measure of sorrow about their fate,
but never anger. So much had changed in such a short time, but wasn’t it always
like that? They’d gone from a colony of survivors to a few . . . to two, and
then one. The ever changing face of the world his father called it.

“Kiss me,” Jennifer whispered. He could
barely make out the features of her face in the low light. Shadows danced all
around them as the rain continued to land softly. He kissed her, kissed her
forehead, hugged her tight.

“We can go somewhere,” Howard said, but
he wished the words back as soon as they left his mouth.

“No, Howard, they are my somewhere.
They’re all I have left and I won’t leave them to die . . . or worse. Even if
it kills me.”

“What if it kills me?”

“That’s your choice. Don’t put that on
me.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I was hoping my
charms could sway you.” Howard hugged her again. He didn’t want to let her go,
couldn’t let her go, not yet. “Truthfully, I was being a little selfish. This
is all new to me.”

Jennifer laughed. “You mean you’re…”

“What?” Howard looked in her direction,
knowing the shadows hid a giant smile. He could hear it in her tone. “No, not
at all,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Jennifer laughed again. “It’s okay.”

“There was a girl. Tabitha . . . she was
like me. My sister, but not of my father or mother, but my sister. She was
around my age. This was years ago, when we still had numbers, before she left
with some of the others and a group from the outside. That’s how it was. We’d
play together, sometimes for years, motherless, but we had each other and my
father, and the other men. And, and sometimes it went on and on and it was fun,
and we never wanted it to end.”

“It’s okay, Howard, I’m sorry . . . I
didn’t know.” Jennifer snuggled closer.

“You didn’t know. We didn’t know. I mean
we did, but we never thought it would happen. The world was crazy, people
didn’t make it. We’d all stay together forever. But nothing lasts, Jennifer,
nothing ever lasts.

“Tabitha and I would run the corridors.
We’d steal cigarettes and booze. We tried to forget what might happen, but knew
in the back of our minds it would come. It always did. We’d have a party the
night before a departure. And, well, we made sure that we’d never forget each
other.”

“Is she. . .”

“I don’t know . . . They’re all out
there, or were, somewhere. Dad put them in here, their locations. Maybe when
this is all done, maybe. . . I don’t know, I don’t know anymore.” Howard held
her for a while without a word. Tears ran down his cheeks. He grieved silently
for those that had gone on before him. Now it was his turn. The last to leave,
and what a mess he’d gotten himself into. Yet, he felt only that it was worth
it no matter the outcome. He’d found her.