The Hand That Feeds: A Horror Novel (20 page)

“Oh crap.”

John didn’t have time to plan. He reacted out of fear as the dogs jumped up and over the cab, and on to the roof of the camper. John jumped as the dog’s paws touched down, coasting over their outstretched snapping jaws. The second his boots slammed onto the hood, he jumped again and landed hard on the road.

He
tried to roll out of the landing, but smacked his leg on the payment making a bloody mess of his knee. He managed to get up to his feet and run for the door as he screamed in pain. The dead closed in from all sides and the dogs ran for him as he groped the keys, got the door open, and leaped in at the last possible moment. He slammed the door as a dog dove past the window.

The dead
pressed against the glass clawing at him, trying to get in. John put the key in the ignition and closed his eyes. He turned the key and the engine came to life. He slammed on the gas and plowed into several bodies in the way. Blood splattered across the hood as one figure was torn in two.

John trembled with fear as his heart pounded in his chest. He held the gas down and roared
up Main Street watching the growing mass of dead in the mirror. The road ahead was littered with them, but for the first time in a while, he felt safe. Night crept across the sky and he refocused on his wife and son, not knowing if they would still be home when he finally returned.

21

The old camper truck pulled off the highway and on to a familiar dirt road. John wasn’t sure if his hands were shaking from the truck’s beat-up shocks or the adrenalin rushing through his veins. He was five miles from home and he knew the road like the back of his hand. His eyes burnt and his face ached as he tried to gather himself.

The
bloodstain on his leg reminded him of how bad it was going to hurt when he tried to walk on it again. He wasn’t sure if the sudden lack of pain was a good sign or a bad one. He kept focused on Angela and Alex. They’d been alone for over a day and he was terrified at what might have happened. If someone showed up at the house to check for infected, Angela wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. The thought encouraged him to step on the gas.

In the
darkness, he sped down the road leaving a veil of dust behind. The moon was full in the sky and lit the surrounding fields for a mile in every direction. John saw dots of light in the distance and focused his attention. He neared and saw the outline of the Davis house and the long driveway leading to the front door. They’d known the Davis family for years, but they only spoke in passing. There were two Davis boys around Alex’s age. They all went to the same school, but didn’t spend much time together outside of the long bus ride into town. John didn’t see any movement from the house as he passed and he guessed the worst.

He would have to get Angela and
Alex as far away from the affected area as possible. An idea had come to him on the drive home and he was refining it as best he could. There was an old hunting trail about a quarter mile up from his driveway. He’d followed it once a few years back looking for fertile hunting ground. Several beers later and no deer in sight, he realized he’d driven over an hour north of the house. John was willing to bet that the road would take him right up to the Kansas, Nebraska border without ever crossing a major road.

The thought
of getting away caused him to go faster, pushing the old camper truck to its limit. The endless fields blurred by on either side of the truck as the moonlight highlighted distant trees. It was under the moon’s light that two silhouette figures drew John’s focus from the road. Erratic movements traveling west across the field caused him to slow down and turn off his headlights. He brought the truck to a stop and stepped out onto the dirt road. There were people in the field, but it was impossible to tell what they were doing.

He pulled the shotgun from the front seat and put the keys in his pocket.
He looked up the road and watched the darkness for signs of oncoming light, but found none. Satisfied, he slowly made his way across the field. He gauged the figures’ pace and angled to meet them as directly in line with the truck as he could manage. He neared the pair and slowed his pace.

There was s
omething wrong about the shadows, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Something connected the two figures together that he couldn’t make out. They stopped, apparently waiting for him and he heard them for the first time. A raspy moan started low and rose as the figures held still. The one out front sporadically reached out at the open space in front of it. John knew the sounds of the walking dead, but could not understand why it walked away from him. He kept silent until he was close, watching the figures under the moonlight as the one in the back shifted uncomfortably. Holding on to something long somehow connected it to the figure in front. It only took a few seconds of silence for the figure to get impatient enough to speak.

“What do you want?”

John nearly fell over as the sudden wave of sound rang in his ears. He hadn’t expected the outburst and much more, he hadn’t expected to recognize it.

“Angela?”

“John?”

He
ran toward her and as he did, the moonlight revealed the figures to be his wife and son. What he could not figure out in the darkness turned out to be an elaborate leash. Angela held on to one end of a mop stick, the other end secured around Alex’s neck with a rope. The boy tried to reach back for John as he approached, but the contraption held him in place. John embraced his wife, but as he did, the wind turned. The smell of the dead engulfed him and he looked at his son’s decomposing face and cringed. Alex reached for his father, his head held tight in place by the rope around his neck.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Angela punched him in the side. “Where the hell have you been? There’s something wrong with him. He needs to eat and you left us all alone.”

“What about
the last meal? That was only a few days ago.”

“I don’t know,”
she adjusted her grip on the pole. “He needs to eat. Something’s happening and he has to have more.”

John looked into her eyes and saw wildness.

“Where are you going?”

She looked to the
west and he followed her gaze to the dots of light on the only object standing out in the dark. He looked back at her and knew at once.

“T
he Davis house?”

“Your son
has to eat, John,” she said.

John felt defeated. He’d spent so much energy trying to reach his family that he lacked t
he will to go on, now that he’d found them. He looked at his son’s withering body then sat down on the ground and stared up at the moon. He rested the butt of the shotgun on the dirt and laid his head against the barrel.

“What are you doing?” Angela asked. “I can’t do this on my own. Don’t be weak now when we need you most.”

John didn’t respond. He watched Alex with dyeing eyes. His heart sank as once again the reality of their situation landed square on his shoulders.

“Get your ass up
.”

John came to his feet and started walking back toward the road.

“Come on,” he said.

“
I asked you what you were doing.”

“What do
you want me to do?”

Angela was left controlling
Alex as the boy lunged after his father. John stayed dangerously close to the boy, his gnarled fingers nearly grabbing hold of his father’s shirt several times. Angela didn’t stop cursing at John until they were close enough to the road to see the camper truck.

“We’ll put him in the back,”
he said.

He walked around the truck and opened the camper door. Angela struggled to force
Alex in the back. He thrashed about against the pole and it took a good shove from John’s foot to get the boy inside. Angela forced him to the front of the camper and John shut the door. The end of the mop pole stuck out a small window in the back door, keeping Alex from turning around.

“Where did you get this from?” Angela asked.

“Oh, me, I’m fine,” John said. “I’ve only been gone for a few days, but thanks for worrying about me.”

“Oh
, baby.” Angela put her hands on his waist. “You know I missed you. I knew you’d come back for us.” She kissed him. “We never doubted you for a second.” She kissed him again and disappeared around the other side of the truck.

John heard the passenger door open then slam shut. He shook his head and went around to the
driver’s side. A minute later, the truck was on the road and driving back in the direction he’d come. He kept the headlights off as they neared the Davis house. By the moonlight, he found the driveway, marked by a lone mailbox. He pulled off the road toward the house and slowed the truck to a crawl.

“You think they’re in there?” Angela asked.

John brought the truck to a stop and studied the windows. The light was coming from the first floor bay window and the rest of the house was pitch-black. “I don’t know.” He opened the door and stepped out, straining to see into the dimly lit living room. He watched in silence, ignoring Angela’s impatient eyes. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Where else would they be?”

“How am I supposed to know?” John looked around for any other signs of life, but found none.

“Let’s have a look.”

He looked back at his wife and frowned. “I’m not taking you in there.”

“Why not?”

“What if they have a gun?”

Angela wouldn’t be denied. “We’re going in,” she said, “and remember that shotgun of yours isn’t going to be any good as far as your son is concerned,” she pointed at his weapon. “
They
have to be
alive
.”

John looked back at her with hate in his eyes. He’d been able to avoid thinking about what they were trying t
o do, but she enjoyed throwing it in his face. He pulled the shotgun off the seat of the truck and looked back at the house. “Get Alex out of the back.”

#

“Stay close,” John said then thought about it for a second, “but not too close.”

Angela held on to the pole with one hand and the
end of the rope wrapped around Alex’s neck with the other. The boy’s dark eyes did not reflect the moonlight as he stared at his father with wanting desperation. His mouth hung open as the stench of death reeked about him. His limbs swayed in slow-ridged movements. 

John kept the shotgun at the ready
as he drew near the front door. He dropped down to a knee and took another long look at the front of the house. The living room was in clear view and he focused in on the television. The set was on and he knew at once that the Davis family was home. A sudden movement in an upstairs window drew his attention, but he found nothing beyond drapes blowing in the wind.

“They’re here,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“Just keep close to the front door until I clear out the bottom of the house.”

John tried the door and found it locked. A strong kick splintered the wood and another solid hit burst it open. He took a step inside with the shotgun close to his face. He eyed a hallway near the stairs on his left then the dining room on the other side of the front room. The only sound in the house came from a news reporter on the television. John crossed the living room with three long strides and flipped the television off. He listened for any sounds with his shotgun aimed at the stairs. A high-pitched voice interrupted his concentration from outside the front door.

“Is it safe?” Angela asked.

“Shhh,” John said.

“Well
, we’re not going to stay out here all night.”

“Shut up.”

Angela fell silent, but John knew he would have to pay later for his words. He walked back to the door and motioned for her to maneuver Alex toward the dining room. John led the way and a quick search revealed the dining room opened up into the kitchen. He signaled Angela to stop and force Alex on the other side of the dining room table. The boy’s moans rose in volume, but John knew there was nothing he could do about it. It was obvious to him that his son’s appearance was deteriorating rapidly. His gaunt, pale face was covered in thin blue veins. His blackened tongue hung from the side of his mouth like a dog dying of thirst.

“Stay here,” John
said, “no matter what you hear.”

He
took a step into the kitchen and let the barrel of his gun sweep with his eyes. The light from the living room was enough to keep him from being blind, but not much else. He focused on the lone spot near the back door hidden from his view. As he stepped out to his left and found the back door, he hoped he wouldn’t have to use his last shell.

A quick turn brought the gun around to the central hall and a view of the front door. John moved down the hall keeping the gun aimed at the stairs. He reached the center of the house when the first signs of life came from a low
, but distinct creaking board somewhere up on the second floor. John came to a stop and moved his head far enough to see the landing at the top of the stairs.

A deathly silence fell over the house and John held his breath. Time ticked by painfully slow until his lungs
burnt. He heard his heart beating in his ears and just before he couldn’t hold it any longer, another sound came to him. Three steps echoed in the silence like an elephant stomp in the jungle. A deep breath burst from John’s lips when his lungs could take it no longer. He knew someone was upstairs and he had to bring them down one way or another. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get it done without killing anyone.

The bottom step creaked
and John cringed the moment his foot hit it. He was no fool. Owning a gun was a rite of passage for most people in this part of the state. There was a good chance the shotgun in his hands wasn’t the only firearm in the house. The second stair wasn’t much better than the first, and he gave up any thoughts of sneaking up on someone. At the midway point, he heard muffled conversation from somewhere in the lightless dark overhead. He could see the upstairs hallway and knew at once that he wouldn’t be able to see anything once he reached the landing. The entire upstairs was covered in darkness and he guessed Mr. Davis kept it that way for a reason.

There were only three steps to go when
he heard the click. It took him a second to place the sound, but he managed to pull his head down by the time the gun went off. Angela screamed several times from down stairs, but John’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t tell where the shot came from in the hall, but knew from the sizable hole in the wall where his head had been only a second before, that the wielder of that gun could see him very well.