Frenzy (The Frenzy Series Book 1) (8 page)

“It was my first time. It freaked me out a little bit.”

“Let’s cook some breakfast.” He ushered me inside. “Your mother and Ford are still asleep.”

“You haven’t woken her?”

Father grinned. “Not yet.”

Father stoked the fire while I broke the two eggs into a pan. I would split the ration with Father and Ford, but if Mother thought she was taking more food out of my mouth, she was sorely mistaken. “I have to work the soil in the back garden this morning so it can rest for spring, but I want you to come back from Mrs. Dillinger’s at midday. I’ll teach you what I can.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled slightly and told me to cook my eggs. “They’re
our
eggs,” I corrected.

Father placed his hand over mine on the pan. “They are yours. You are giving so that the entire Colony can have meat.”

“What if the hunt isn’t successful?”

“The risk you take is still appreciated, Porschia. And you will eat every bite of both eggs this morning.”

“Fine, but we split the other rations.” That would be bread, because I’d stuffed my face full of all the cheese on the way here.

“The bread and cheese will be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Cheese?”

Father rifled into the bag on the counter, pulling out an orange triangle identical to the one I ate on the journey home. Saul took the wrong bag…or he gave me his on purpose.

Heat flooded my cheeks and my head sank in shame. What he must think of me. The reason he proposed was obvious. Pity. He felt sorry for me. And the reason I even told him that I needed a husband or the rotation’s rations? Desperation. Weakness. Everything a man wouldn’t want in a woman.

Mother made her appearance just as I swallowed the last steaming chunk of egg. She scowled, screeching “What is this? You’re eating all of the extra food we have?”

Father stopped her rant. “She needed the energy! She’s hunting so we can all eat this week or next.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better hope the hunt is successful, you pig of a girl!”

“Enough, Miranda!” Father shouted at her. My fork clattered to the floor and I stood abruptly to go wash my dish and find Ford. “And she needs Mercedes’ coat!”

“She will
not
touch her things.”

“She
will
. I’ll not lose another daughter because you’re hell bent on placing blame in the wrong place. Your bitterness is suffocating us all. Now allow her into Mercedes’ room, or I’ll remove the door from the hinges and let her in myself.”

Screw the dish
, I thought, abandoning it in the kitchen. I jogged up the steps and took an immediate left, barging into Ford’s room. He was snoring, one arm thrown over his eyes. I shuffled through his drawers, pulling out one of the few pairs of pants he had clean and one of his button down shirts. I’d have to hem the pant legs to make it work, but I could make it temporary. “Just use darts to secure it,” Mrs. Dillinger’s voice said in my mind.

I slipped from Ford’s room without him even stirring and turned to meet Mother in the hallway. With a scowl, she used an old key to turn the lock on Mercedes’ door. “If you ruin it...” she threatened.

“Mercedes is gone, Mother. She won’t need it anymore.” My voice sounded as tired as I felt. Without a word, Mother retreated to her room and slammed the door behind her. Sighing, I opened the door to Mercedes’ room. Her bed was exactly as she’d left it that day, down to the quilt perfectly in place on the bed. She always made her bed so neatly, even though everything else was a mess. Her dresser was strewn with things she and I found during our childhood: jewelry boxes and trinkets that went in them, books and paper, pencils. Her sketches, intricately blurry, of the townspeople, the falls at the river, me and Ford, hung on her walls. When she would sketch, she got the most serious expression on her face. She would bite her lip and her hands would fly over the paper in a frenzy. From that flurry of lead and paper emerged beauty, a moment of life captured by a young girl’s raw talent.

As responsibilities grew in number she had less and less time to draw, but every so often I would catch her scribbling furiously over the paper. My hand drifted over the drawing near her dresser. It was of a man in a long coat, walking along the pavilion at night. Could she have seen a night-walker? Mercedes saw the world differently. She taught me to consider the goodness in everything. Since she fell, I’d forgotten that. I was letting Mother’s bitterness seep in and steal that joy away from me. I needed to cling tightly to it. And to do that, I would need to leave home soon.

From her closet, I grabbed everything that looked like it might fit, which wasn’t much. A spare dress, some underthings, and most importantly, Mercedes’ double-breasted, black woolen coat. Catching a glimpse of a pair of sturdier boots tucked neatly into the corner, I snatched them up and walked quickly to my room. Mother would lock her memory away again soon.

Although Mrs. Dillinger wasn’t feeling well, we continued to work on the dress I began yesterday. She instructed me on the types of stitches to use in various places to make the fabric hold together strongly. I made her tea and she insisted that I take some with her.

“How did it go this morning?”

Awful. Horrific. Terrifying. I almost died.

“Not as bad as I expected,” I lied.

She made a non-committal noise and glanced at my neck where the wounds were beginning to ache before averting her eyes to the contents of her tea cup. It was almost midday. “My father wants to show me a few things before I have to try to sleep this afternoon.”

“The tea will help you rest.”

“It will?”

“Mm. It’ll calm your nerves, too.”

“Will it make me a good hunter?” I teased with a grin.

She smiled back, blowing the surface of the hot, golden liquid. “I certainly hope so. Go on home. I’ll see you for a few hours tomorrow morning.”

I stood and gathered my teacup and saucer, but her voice stopped me. “My door is always open if you need a place to stay, Porschia.” I swallowed thickly. “I live here. That’s my room across the hall,” she said, motioning to it. “There are several rooms in this old house, and most of them are empty. One holds the bolts of fabric and other supplies, but there is plenty of room for you here if you need or want it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered and left her behind me.

My feet carried me home and by midday, it was warm enough to relax without a coat on. Mercedes’ scent still clung to it. Every time I put it on, took it off, or simply looked down, I could smell her sweetness. I could remember her delicate fingers working over the buttons. It made my heart hurt, but in the best way when that happened. It was like a part of her still lived.

Father was waiting on the porch in a rocking chair when I arrived. Sweat dampened his hair and his fingers curled around the edges of the arm rests, turning his knuckles white. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He pasted on a fake smile. “Let’s go around back.”

He took out a large knife and handed it to me before retrieving another for himself. He gripped it tightly and showed me how to slash, stab at things. I was confused. “Father, if I’m hunting deer and bear, why would I need a knife? I wouldn’t be fighting them so closely, would I?”
Please say no.

Father let out a heavy sigh. “There are other things in the woods that are far more dangerous. I want you to be able to defend yourself if you...” He stopped, his voice shaking.

“The Infected?”

He nodded and swiped the wetness pooling beneath his eyes. “There’s more. And you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. Only a few people in town know about this. We’re working with the leader of the night-walkers to handle the situation.”

“Okay. I promise not to say anything.”

Staring at the trees that stood beyond our back yard, which was basically a huge vegetable garden, Father told me something that shook me to the core. “A night-walker attacked someone last night. I found a body in a shallow section of the river this morning.”

“Dead?”

He pursed his lips. “Bitten and then tossed out like garbage. They weren’t even drained of blood.” Tage’s face immediately came to mind. But then Father said, “It’s probably a new vampire. I understand they get overwhelmed with hunger and emotion and are very difficult to control. The night-walkers call it ‘frenzy’.” Was Tage a new vampire? I didn’t get that impression from him at all. And if it wasn’t Tage, who was it?

“I want you to be careful tonight. Stay with Saul. He knows how to bring down the game. You just worry about watching his back and staying alive. No matter what, you run if you get in trouble. I don’t care if you have to leave everyone behind.
You
.
Run
,” he said, emphasizing each word with a jab of his finger. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Father’s lip trembled and mine began to wobble. I nodded my understanding and watched as he walked toward the house, unable to withstand the weight of the emotions swirling in the air around us.

Mother either stayed in her room all day or else she wasn’t home. Her absence allowed me to swipe a pint jar of corn and two biscuits that she made yesterday and was saving for tonight. I would have felt guilty had my ration bag not contained fresher bread. Walking through the sunshine and grass toward the river, I hoisted the burlap sack onto my shoulder. Ford’s clothes, which I temporarily altered to work for me, and to my knowledge he didn’t yet realize were gone, were tucked inside, along with the food. I didn’t want to go back home after dinner and after we
became
dinner.

My stomach knotted. Saul was hoping to get to know me because I suggested it, but what if he didn’t like me? What if the gossips found out and smeared our names? I knew that if we were to ever get married he would have to ask Father for permission, and would likely receive it. Father would respect him as much as I did.

Mrs. Dillinger loved company and she loved to talk, though not idly. I replayed our conversation in my mind. “Why are our clothes like this? Old-timey? The vampires wear modern clothes.”

Roman had worn denim pants, a snug-fitting cotton shirt, and a leather jacket.

She pursed her lips upon hearing the word ‘vampire’. “They come and go into the city, taking whatever they want. Most of the homes and buildings were burned after the Great Infection to kill the germs, but what most young folks don’t know is that the infection killed probably ninety-five percent of the people it touched. The rest were changed. It was like they reverted to a more primitive version of human beings. The bacteria might have affected their brains and their ability to think clearly and make decisions, it was said.”