Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance (18 page)

"I'm…not going…to be able to hold on…much longer!" she shouted, trying to get Jade's attention from the other side of the camp.

He picked off the teenaged girl who only had one arm. Once she was down, the remaining two kept at it, trying to shake Cheryl down. Jade managed to shoot them before attending to his own problem, a growing crowd below him that clawed at the trunk of his tree like they were going to shred it with their bony fingers, splinter by splinter.

Patrick screamed again. Somehow, he'd lost his balance, and one of his feet had slipped through the slats on the bridge next to his perch. His foot was tangled in a snarl of rope, and he couldn't pull it back through. Like hungry guppies, the group below him had wide open mouths as they reached up, grabbing for a hold on his ankle.

"Help him! Help him!" Cheryl cried as she jumped over the heads of two more attackers and down to the ground to retrieve her gun. She shot both of them. Then, she ran a few yards away to draw others away from the tree before doubling back and scrambling back up.

When she turned her attention back to Patrick,
it was too late
.

One of the hungry creatures below him had pulled off his hiking boot and sunk his teeth into Patrick's foot as others dove for the meat on his calf, tearing off shreds with their teeth and fingers. He was still screaming as they pulled him down, and fell upon him like a cloak of writhing flesh.

Cheryl glanced towards Jasmine. Her head was hung low, and she'd fallen eerily quiet. She wasn't even trying to shoot any more.

She bowed her head too, seeing the imminence of defeat as dozens more Eaters streamed into the camp.
Maybe this was it.
After more than half a year of running…maybe it was going to end right here. Knowing she was going to die made her feel strangely calm. Would it be so bad if it was finally over? If her dreams of living a normal life could just be resigned to failure and she could find eternal rest? Unfortunately, the passage to that peace was going to be bloody and painful.

Her self-pity was aborted as Jasmine found her voice again. She screamed bloody murder, kicking at the array of dead fingers reaching towards her.

That sight goaded Cheryl back into action. They might all be doomed, but she couldn’t go down without doing everything in her power to save someone else.

Before she could assess Jasmine's situation, one of the Eaters below her, a spindly man with mushroom gray skin and a shock of black hair that was slicked back with blood, found a foothold on a knobby protrusion of the pine and used his withered arms to lift his body up.

Oh God…he's climbing!

His efforts were clumsy, but coordinated, and had potential to succeed if he kept at it, because every time he fell, he popped right back up and started up again. Cheryl managed to put a few bullet holes in the tree, but missed the man's head because of his jerky movements and—
she hated to admit
—her wobbling hand that wouldn’t stay steady no matter how much she tried to force it to.

When her clip was empty, she started a frantic search in her pockets for another. As her hands fumbled, the sound of gunfire around the camp increased. She looked up and saw Aidan, Mark and the others returning, guns ablaze. Their furious assault was a welcome sight that emboldened her, and with steadier hands, she managed to pick off a few more figures stumbling into the camp in their wake.

Seconds later, the gunfire ceased. Bodies littered the camp, and the only sound came from Kai and Edmond, sobbing.

Cheryl climbed down from her perch as she realized that Jasmine's screaming had stopped. She looked up in the tree where the girl had been and was ready to coax her down, but she saw nothing but empty branches.

"Where's Jasmine?" She asked, hoping that Ben had gotten her down and helped her into one of the tents or teepees to help her recover.

She followed Mark's sorrowful gaze to the group of Eaters piled into a heap at the base of the tree where Jasmine had been perched. He averted his eyes then looked at her and shook his head.

Cheryl collapsed to her knees.

She'd let them down. Being one of the most experienced Eater killers, she should have protected them…but she hadn't. She'd failed them.

Mark kneeled and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, Cheryl. We shouldn't have left…"

Not his fault.
Hers.

The guilt felt like heavy weights on her shoulders, forcing her down to mourn on the earth where she felt her body belonged with the dead.

"Earl and the other guy are dead too. They were attacked before we got there. We were trying to drag their bodies away for a burial when we were surrounded. We ran in the other direction, trying to lure them away, but it was too late. They seemed to catch the scent from the camp and diverted off in your direction."

They were prompted to their feet as Jake came running up. His eyes were wide, nearly popping out of his head, and there were long patches of sweat underneath his armpits. "We can't stay," he gasped. "There's another herd coming. 'Bout a quarter mile from here. At the rate they're moving, I'd say we have six or seven minutes."

With a holler, Aidan gave the official order to abandon camp. "Grab what you can and get to the bikes!"

Cheryl looked back towards Patrick's remains and the heap of bodies where Jasmine met her end. There was nothing they could do but leave them along with the other corpses.

It's just wrong.  It's not fair. This has to end…

"Come on," Mark said, snapping her out of her lamentations.

Since Earl and the other Vulture had bitten the dust, there were two extra motorcycles. Cheryl hopped on one of them, a Harley Fatboy, and motioned for Mark to join her on the seat behind. He paused, looking unsure.

"Trust me!" she said. "I can drive it."

"Fine," he said, hopping on behind her. "I guess I'll have to. I haven't touched one of these since I was a teenager, and that was only once."

Zach commanded Earl's XL Sportster. As Kai made a beeline for his back seat, Edmond elbowed him away, jumped on, and wrapped his arms around Zach like it was his God given right to be there. Instead of tossing him off by his collar, Zach turned around and gave him a scowl that seemed to mean:
No funny business you annoying fairy or I'll kick your ass.

"The rest of you…hop on behind someone," Aidan said. Jake, Ben, Chip, Jordan, and Kai didn't waste time trying to pick the least awkward person to straddle and hug. They manned up behind the closet rider to them. Seconds later, just as they heard the sounds of moans coming closer to the camp, they took off, following the path down the hillside towards the road.

Aidan was in the lead, and they all had to trust that he was taking them to a safer area, but it was dark, and Cheryl had no idea where they were headed. After navigating through a number of winding, perilous roads that were little more than dirt paths, she concluded that he was just driving with no specific destination in mind. The best she could tell, he was headed north, at least once they hit Highway 77. When they reached it, Aidan raised an index finger in the air, signaling for them all to ride single file. Each rider repeated the signal, so those behind could see it. Once they fell into formation, they were a long line winding through the darkness in a manner that would look like a single bike to anyone who might see them from the front or the rear.

A few minutes later, there was a green sign that said,
Sabre—9 miles
. When they reached a short hill overlooking the exit, Aidan raised a hand in the air then swung it down, signaling the rest to pull off. He slowed to a stop and the other bikers gathered around him.

Cheryl and the others saw why he had stopped. There was a shop on the road below. In the front lot, the wind kicked at a metal sign, knocking it to the ground, making a repetitive CLANG as it beat against the concrete.

Diego spoke first. "I've been through here once before. It's a small town. We're not likely to find much in the way of shelter or supplies."

As if it had been cued to emphasize his point, a ball of tumbleweed rolled through the lot.

"It looks deserted," Edmond said with more than a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Zach growled back to him.

"Maybe it's not," Cheryl said, pointing. "Look…"

She'd noticed it first—a flicker of fluorescent light in one of the front windows. It was unusual for there to be power anywhere unless it was coming from a generator.

Mark wasn't optimistic. "That doesn't mean anything. There could still be isolated spots with electricity and nothing but corpses inside."

"Only one way to find out," Aidan said. Without signaling, he took off down the hill.

Whether they were willing or not, everyone followed. As they neared the building, Cheryl nervously watched the building and its surroundings for any sign of movement. Seeing none, her eyes went to the ice cream-shaped sign out front where a patch of moonlight illuminated the words,
Divine Sundaes
.

Even more curious than the flickering fluorescent light, there was a neon OPEN sign on the front door lit up bright red.

Chapter 14

"Looks like we just got lucky," Aidan shouted after rolling onto the edge of the property.

"Not so fast," Cheryl said, her voice drowned out by the purr of the engines around her. They had made a loud entrance, and she knew they were vulnerable in the open lot. Though, they had some measure of protection from the cover of darkness, bullets could start whizzing by their heads at any second.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Zach yelled. "An open ice cream shop?"

"We should be careful…" Diego warned.

Mark strained to be heard over the sound of the engines. "Yeah. Could be a O.N.E. trap. They could be trying to lure in stray travelers. Maybe you walk in, the door shuts behind you, and the whole place is filled with hungry Eaters. "But…" he said, leaning back towards Cheryl, so she could hear him, "…if there's anyone in there that is friendly, we probably look like an invading army. We shouldn't all have come at once."

Diego said, "If anyone is home…and they're friendly…it's doubtful they're going to have any supplies to spare. Maybe we should keep going down the highway."

With every fiber of her being, Cheryl hoped this was going to be a safe place to stay the night and would have amicable survivors. When they evacuated
Fort Vulture
, they hadn't had time to pack up much—not the tents, not the teepee coverings, not even very much food and water. In fact, they had little more with them now than they'd had after the helicopter crash.

After trying to shout to the others in vain over the loud motors, Aidan killed the engine on his bike. He sat there for a moment before hopping off and turning to face them.

Most of the other bikers powered down too.

Before Aidan spoke, Diego burst out laughing. "What are you gonna do, amigo? Just go and knock on the door?"

Aidan threw up his hands. "You got a better idea?"

One of the Vultures chimed in. "Yeah…I say we scout around the place and make sure it's not filled with Eaters then barrel in there."

"I got a good feeling about this place. I'm not going in blazing guns."

Diego threw up his hands. "Man…you're crazy, man! We're going to get shot if we stand around here and—"

They were all so busy arguing that none of them noticed a man walk out of the building. When he appeared next to them, his presence wasn't immediately noticed, because he looked just like one of them. He was a tall man with a long, gray beard that reached to his chest and he wore a black t-shirt and jeans. There was a gold hoop earring in his left ear, and a grin on his face that seemed smug when he saw that he'd surprised them. He appeared to be unarmed and he held one hand in the air, hailing them. "Welcome, brothers."

Everyone stared, speechless, as if a ghost had materialized in front of them.

"We haven't had company in quite a while. It's nice to see you folks."

Aidan had stiffened, but seemed to relax when he his eyes fell to the Harley-Davidson logo on the man's shirt. Mark, Jake, and several of the others had hands poised to draw their guns.

"What do we got here? A gang of mutes?" He belted out a hearty chuckle. "Do I look like the bogeyman or something?"

A Vulture scolded the stranger. "It's not too smart to sneak up on people in the dark. We could have shot you."

The stranger just grinned wider. "That would have been your loss. I always come out to greet visitors, and I come in peace."

"We do too…we're just passing through," Aidan said, finally finding his tongue. "We had a camp not too far from here. It was overrun by Eaters, and we had to leave because more were coming up the mountain."

The man stroked his beard. "Sorry to hear that. Did you lose anyone?"

"Yes. A few."

With closed eyes, the man bowed his head and mumbled some words. Then, he looked over the group. "Are any of you bitten or sick?"

"No. You have my word that we're not. We're tired, but we're all in good shape."

"You're a blessed lot then. We don't see many groups your size anymore…except groups of the walking dead."

"We could use a place to stay the night and any food you can spare," Aidan pleaded. "We'd be very grateful."

"Well then, I reckon you ought to park your bikes against the building and come on inside. I'll tell Hannah to put on another pot of coffee. Well…it's not coffee actually. We brew it from roasted dandelion roots. Tastes pleasantly bitter and gives your liver a good scrubbing. You'll acquire the taste after a few sips."

The group talked amongst themselves, arguing about whether they should trust the guy or go on down the road.

In the end, fatigue was the deciding factor. It was late, and they'd just had a harrowing evening that had sapped their fortitude. Most voted to stay, pleading for the chance to sleep somewhere indoors where they could kick off their boots and have the safety of walls around them.

"Fine," Edmond said after the vote. "But, I could use some ice cream…or a beer, not some weed coffee."

"Bite your tongue," Cheryl scolded in a hushed voice. "We're lucky to get anything they have to spare."

Jake hopped off the back of the bike he'd gotten a ride on and thanked the Vulture who'd been kind enough to share his steed. Then, he turned to Mark and whispered, "This guy's a little too friendly. I don't think we should all go in there."

"You're right. Some of us should stay out here and guard the bikes."

Jake, Mark, Diego, and six of the Vultures decided to stay, while the rest filed towards the door.

Mark grabbed Cheryl's arm before she headed towards the building. "Whatever happens in there, don't give up your gun."

"No worries," she said. "I won't let my guard down."

He patted her on the back. "Promise?"

"Promise," she replied.

Once all of the motorcycles were parked, those braving the offered hospitality followed the man towards the door. After opening it, the man held up his hand. "Hold on a second."

Cheryl froze along with everyone else.
Was he going to change his mind? Signal someone inside to open fire?

"Where are my manners? We haven't even made introductions." He held out his right hand, exposing the tattoo of a gothic cross on his forearm, and offered it to Aidan first. "Name's Jeremiah Sadler."

"Aidan," he countered, giving him a firm shake.

Deanna bustled to the door next, and extended her hand. Jeremiah shook it and gave her a curt nod.

After they disappeared inside, Cheryl and the others followed. She kept a firm grip on her gun, and if their host had any concerns about their weapons, she noted that he didn’t seem to show it.

Once inside, any preconceived notions she had vanished. What she'd expected, as surely as the others, was an ice cream shop, a conditioned assumption given the sign out front. Instead of a counter and colorful booths, she looked upon an altar with rows of pews in front, enough to seat at least fifty. Candles and lanterns dotted the small stage area, lighting it like a starry patch of sky.

Divine Sundaes.

The building looked like it had once been a business that served sweet desserts, but it was apparently now dishing up spirituality. Instead of being comforted by that fact, it made her uneasy. She and Aidan had once encountered a religious group who were all sitting around, waiting to be raptured into Heaven, instead of doing anything proactive to fortify their shelter and increase their chances of survival. Were the people here of the same mindset?

She stood with the rest of her group as they huddled in the rear, looking unsure of whether they should sit or stand. While they murmured amongst themselves, wondering if they'd done the right thing by coming inside, a woman appeared. She had white shoulder-length hair and wore a white t-shirt and jeans. A delicate gold cross hung from her neck. She was fragile looking, the type that would seem unlikely to have survived this apocalypse.

"Welcome, guests."

The group mumbled 'hellos', eyeing the tray she held with a couple dozen paper cups, filled with dark brown liquid.

"My name is Hannah. It's so nice to have visitors. Where ya'll from?"

Edmond leaned towards Cheryl. "Have we all died and landed in some sort of alternate universe? Do these people not know what's going on in the world?"

"Just be cool," she whispered back.

Aidan stepped forward. "Some of us were refugees from Fort San Manuel and the rest of us were living in the Galiuro Mountains until our camp became unsafe."

Hannah started passing the cups around then said, "You poor dears. I can't imagine being out there in the wilderness when the gates of Hell are open. Why don't y'all have a seat." She gestured towards the pews. "Go on…" she said when no one moved. "Don't be shy. Kick your feet up and drink up. I'm sure you could use some refreshment and some time to relax."

Most of them obeyed, sitting down and starting to sip the bitter brew sweetened with honey, but some of them, including Cheryl, continued to stand and studied their cups wondering what exactly was being served. Since they had just met this couple and didn't know if they could be trusted, poison couldn't be ruled out.

"So…uh…do you uhh…" Aidan stuttered like he was embarrassed to ask "…actually have any ice cream or food around here?"

Jeremiah appeared by Hannah's side. "Oh we've got food, brother—the kind of food that comes from the Lord. That's the only reason we're still here. God shields us from destruction, so we can serve as an oasis to weary travelers and give them a little of the Holy Spirit to light the rest of their way."

Two of the Vultures in the back of the pews said, "
Amen
".

"Maybe, while you're recovering from the road, I can read you some verses that might help—"

Edmond burst out laughing. "You've got to be—"

Aidan raised a hand, shushing him. "I'm sorry. We really appreciate your offering, but what we really need right now is just a place to crash for a few hours. Then, we'll be on our way come daylight. If you're offering some divine solace, we've got two guys here who just lost someone. Ben lost his girlfriend, Jasmine, and Chip lost his best friend, Patrick. They're kind of a mess right now.  Do you think you could talk to them?"

Jeremiah clamped a hand down on Aidan's shoulder. "I'd be happy to."

With some reluctance, Ben and Chip allowed Jeremiah to lead them to another room, while Hannah left to get some more brew for refills.

"What now?" Cheryl asked.

"I don't… know," Aidan said, gritting each word through his teeth. "This wasn't exactly how we'd planned things. There wasn't time to pack up the camp, find another place…"

"Maybe we can stay here for a few days," Kai said. "You know…regroup and get some supplies."

They sat and talked, debating whether the charity of their hosts was sincere and if it was smart to let their guard down and stay the night.

Mark's voice interrupted the train of thought in Cheryl's head. "Okay?"

Okay
, she thought back to him.
We're doing fine.

She re-entered the conversation just as the paranoia escalated.

Zach led the fear mongers. "They're too nice. They gotta have something up their sleeves."

"You've seen too many bad movies…" Kai told him.

"Real life is a bad movie now," Edmond chimed in.

"Well…I think they're genuine," Cheryl said. "That's my gut feeling."

Zach leaned back, crossing his arms. "Or well trained. How could they survive out here for so long on their own? They've got to have some scheme to defend themselves and maintain supplies. Maybe they're planning to take our guns and slit our throats while we sleep."

"I think you're wrong," Cheryl argued. "My intuition tells me that these are good people."

"I'll take this…" Zach said, raising his gun, "…over your female intuition any day."

Cheryl sighed. "Look…I didn't say we should give up our weapons. Let's just try to have a little faith that there's some goodness left in humanity."

Zach continued to grumble and some of the others joined him in more nervous conjecture about whether they were falling for some sort of trap. They all went silent when Hannah came back, this time with more dandelion coffee and biscuits made out of some unidentifiable grain.

Aidan leaned over towards Cheryl and Zach. "If you feel comfortable enough in here for now, I'm going to go back outside and talk with the guys."

They gave him a nod, and he left.

Jeremiah came back with Ben and Chip in tow. There were tears in their eyes, but also a look of renewed resilience. Cheryl felt a sense of relief. After Jasmine and Patrick's heartbreaking deaths, she wasn't sure if those two were going to make it. As they'd been riding away from the mountains, she had felt their pain wash over her like a black mist, imagined it streaming between the motorcycles like a poisonous fog as it leaked out of their bodies. She'd had many of her own periods of bleakness and utter despair and knew that it took a lot of fortitude to recover and not give up.