Quarantined in Chaos (Nova Nocte) (22 page)

              A loud knocking on the passenger window startled me awake. I pulled myself to a sitting position, accidentally elbowing Daemon in the crotch in the process. Cal reached back from the driver’s seat and covered his mouth to forestall any sound. I apologized with my eyes as Daemon shifted himself and tried to ignore the pain.

             
Knock, knock, knock.

             
I shrugged at Cal; it felt like the sun was still up, but not for much longer.

             
“Anyone in there? I see your tire tracks out here and someone’s clearly been moving junk outta the way.”

             
The three of us exchanged worried glances.

             
What are we going to do? We can’t go outside yet. Can we?

             
Cal titled his hand side to side: iffy at but maybe.

             
Well that’s helpful. Ideas anyone?

             
Daemon held his chin and tapped his forefinger on his lips. I listened to the lone heartbeat outside the door. Daemon indicated he had an idea.

             
“Uuahsrraggghhh”

             
He mimicked the guttural moans of the Dead and slowly tapped his palm against the frost-sparkled window. The stranger stumbled back a couple of steps.

             
Brilliant!

             
“Mmmeheghasss”

             
“Fuck. I guess I’m walking.” Footsteps plodded away. “I was really looking forward to catching a ride with someone. Hell, just seeing someone alive would’ve been freaking bliss.”

             
Daemon kept up the low howls and tapping for a couple of minutes before collapsing into laughter.

             
“I’m glad we had the tarp on. That would’ve sucked otherwise.”

             
Cal patted him on the shoulder.

             
“Yes it would have: we would’ve been burned to cinders by the sun and that fellow would have acquired our ride.”

             
We relaxed and sunk back into our seats. Sunset was coming. I pushed aside the random thought that we could hunt the man then; I had the hunger to kill him, but I want to control it. The gnawing thirst for sanguine fluid threatened to push me out in pursuit of the wanderer. I noticed Cal watching me and started small talk to assure him I was present.

             
###

             
The last rays of the sun blinked out and we emerged from our cocoon. We all stood a moment and stared at the tracks in the slush. Daemon and I busied ourselves with packing up the tarp and gassing the car. Cal pursed his lips.

             
“We all know we must have sustenance to maintain our control. Do you both feel it so necessary to ignore what must be done?”

             
“I don’t want to kill anyone.” Daemon said.

             
I looked at his drooped head and shoulders and felt the remorse he carried from the few people he’d killed. I thought of my own death toll and shuddered.

             
“Me either. But maybe we can just take enough to get by. A little bit each and a quick glamour and we’re on our way.”

             
Cal started the car.

             
“That is what we’ll do then. Load up and lets find our new guest.”

             
Daemon didn’t look at me as we resumed our drive south. Cal hummed something upbeat and turned on his high beams. We only drove a couple of miles before the footprints stopped. The engine was turned off and we got out in search of our meal.

             
The trail dipped off the road and towards a long red farmhouse.

             
Of course. It’s nighttime and the temperature is dropping. Why wouldn’t he take shelter?

             
Cal pocketed the keys and we carried a small pouch of food. The farm wasn’t far and we reached the door quickly. I knocked gently.

             
“Hello? Anyone here?”

             
Someone moved inside. I knocked again.

             
“Any fleshies in here?” Something small toppled over and broke. “Hello?”

             
“Yeah. Who are you?”

             
“Just some travelers looking for a warm place to rest. Can we come in, it’s getting cold?”

             
A deadbolt clicked and the knob turned. Brown eyes peeked through the two inch opening. The man inside held a small crossbow at his side; a 38 special sat holstered on his hip.

             
“Just the three of you?”

             
We nodded in unison.

“Alright then.” He opened the door and stood back. “I’ll trust you, but don’t betray me or I swear I’ll finish you faster than a whore gets laid.”

              “Thanks.” I raised an eyebrow at the expression. “We brought food to share, but I’m not on the menu, okay?”

             
Our patron beamed revealing two rows of pristine pearly whites.

             
“Fine by me. As far as I know, my wife is still alive and I’m not one to stray. Name’s Quince.”

             
Quince led us to the kitchen where he’d started a small fire in the oven. I made the introductions and presented him with two cans of green beans and a bottle of water. We sat on a pile of couch cushions.

             
“You sure none of you are hungry?”

             
Daemon waved him off.

             
“We ate earlier. Don’t worry about us, you dig in. It looks like you’ve been hungry awhile.”

             
Quince was five foot ten but only a hundred thirty to a hundred forty pounds. His veins were far too visible on his arms; they wrapped around the protruding bones on his hands in a way that seemed unnatural.

             
“Yeah, I’ve been mostly eating snow and whatever roots I could dig up. Thanks for the grub.”

             
He warmed the first can at the edge of the coals and packed away the water. We watched as he worked the can opener and swallowed his first mouthful of legumes. Quince closed his eyes and sighed. I stared at his exposed jugular and felt the lowering of my fangs.

             
No. Control yourself. Look away and put the hunger aside.

             
With some effort, I cast my gaze into obscurity. Once our host finished the can, Cal caught his eye and had him under the glamour in a blink. The Roman took a quick sip from Quince’s neck, wiped the corner of his mouth, and moved aside for Daemon.  Daemon’s eyes glowed with need as he sank his canines into the same spot and drank. Cal prodded his protégé and Daemon withdrew.

             
They left a gap for me to feed. My eyes riveted on the four tiny holes, I rolled up his sleeve and drank from the large blue river inside Quince’s elbow. Life and strength flowed into me and set my skin tingling. I suctioned another mouthful and felt my heart beat in rhythm with his. The ever-present tug to dwell within grew. From inside that hidden place in my gut, I forced myself to stop.

             
My companions looked befuddled as I paused to gather my thoughts. I licked clean my lips and gave the depleted donor a false memory. Wordlessly, I stood and left the warm room. Passing through the traipsing shadows, a pair footfalls fell in behind. I left the front door open for them as I returned to our vehicle.

             
I kicked a moped out of the way and cursed as I set about freeing the interstate of obstructions. Neither Daemon nor Cal commented on my feeding or frustration as we went back to our tasks. I’d controlled the hunger, but just barely.

             
###

             
We’ve been following the highway all night, skirting Lake Erie from a few miles inland. Cal keeps double-checking the map to see if we need to fly east a few miles and leave another sign on any neighboring roads. After we reach Pittsburgh -- assuming we haven’t found our party -- we are going to backtrack to Buffalo and do the same down the 219 in case they chose that route. It’s a thorough plan, but I hate the waiting.

             
Daemon has been driving for a few hours and hasn’t stopped singing along with the
Hairspray
cd for an instant.

             
I wonder if I should be worried he’s so into theater...

             
The view from above is breathtaking. The snow may be melting, but there’s still a good bit of it on the ground. Frost glistens on the woods like diamonds against velvet. The air is fresh and clean. I can barely hear the droves of zombies meandering beneath me.

             
Thank God I can’t smell them from up here.

             
I swoop down and manage to land in the middle of a petite group of them. Four kids of varying ages in ruined pajamas, a teenage boy, and a pudgy woman spot me with clouded eyes. The camp shovel is in my right hand and I draw my dagger from its sheath on my side. I ignore who they might’ve been and spike the dagger into the temple of the teenager, spinning to bash the nearest child in the forehead.

             
Not waiting to see them collapse, I whirl around and bring both to bear on the rotund carcass to my left. A solid whack pushes her back and the blade leaves a nasty gash through the deceased woman’s sinuses. The youngest Dead digs its nails into my ankle and I kick my leg hard, shaking it off and into the snowbank a few yards away.

             
I force my panic down and focus on the two fleshies who are closer. I jab the shovel into the chest of one; I twist the blade to pull it loose and rear back to crush the skull with a second blow. She falls limp and lands on her back.

             
The boy is no more than ten but has had half his face worn off with a sander or been dragged on the road. My stomach lurches as he steps into the exposed ribcage of his predecessor and is stuck. The zombie boy drags the girl behind him as her ribs remain ensnared on his ankle. Desperate fingers reach for me.

             
The last Dead is approaching from my left. Irrational fear sets my instincts on full alert; I don’t want to be bitten again. I don’t know if they can infect me, but I’m still not right from before. The moment becomes clearer. I see that only one nail hasn’t been torn from the boy’s fingers. The girl to the side is fighting to walk on a shattered femur. I can’t hear the car on the road anymore. I am alone.

             
And I am enough to handle this.

             
I bare my fangs and scream out the fright.

             
I
am
the fright.

             
My hands drop my weapons in the muddy slush. I don’t need them. Clenching my fists I destroy the boy with a single uppercut, driving the jaw into the brainpan and reducing my pursuer to a string less marionette. An angry knee repeats the injury on the girl. Panting, I use the snow to wash the gore and grime from my face and hands.

             
I retrieve my weapons and wipe them on my pants leg before putting them away. The night is quiet again. The carnage around me looks too common and I don’t let it touch me. Directing the energy around me, I lift off the ground. I’ve got more signs to make before dawn arrives in a couple of hours.

              I can’t believe we ran into Quince again. The scrawny guy was just napping inside a pickup with his crossbow on his chest. I rapped on the window. He startled and fired the bolt at my head.

             
“What the hell!” I ducked.

             
I stood back up and could feel my eyes burning red. The bolt had stuck in the window. Quince hopped out the other side of the truck and apologized, oblivious to my state.

             
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to shoot at you, the triggers a little touchy.”

             
He put his finger on the half inch that protruded from the spider web of glass.

“Oh my, that could’ve killed you. Are you all right? Hey your eyes are red.”

              Cal stepped between us.

             
“No they aren’t.” His voice massaged the man’s mind in a deep timber. “You’ve never seen anyone with red eyes except in pictures. Squirrel just looked shocked.”

             
I hid my distended teeth with my upper lip and concentrated on relaxing. They retracted and he let Quince out of his reverie.

             
“Oh, my. I’m sorry I seem to have drifted off. Haven’t slept in a couple of days. Are you sure you aren’t mad at me?”

             
“No, it’s fine. Normal reaction these days.”

             
I shook his hand for good measure.

             
“Good. It’s nice to see you folks again. I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone else?”

             
“Just you and some Dead.”

             
“Ah, well, guess that’s something. That car looks familiar...” Quince looked at our BMW with the engine running. “...I could swear I saw that same one a while back earlier this week.”

             
Daemon tossed him the keys.

             
“Could be. We found it full of gas, but it had a zombie inside. Don’t worry we cleaned the upholstery before commandeering it. Do you want to drive for a while?”

             
Quince glanced at the key ring with the yellow and gold Bruins dangle and smiled.

             
“I’d love to. Thanks for the rescue. Again.”

             
We piled into the hybrid and rolled towards Pittsburgh. All four of us sat inside listening to music and chatting as our newcomer wove between obstructions. We only got out to move vehicles, kill zombies, or pee (the first two required more glamour for Quince and the third was only for him).

             
As we switched driving duties and Quince dozed in the back I whispered to the others.

             
“What are we supposed to do about the sunrise? It’s already 5AM and he’ll notice something is up if we park and throw the tarp over the car.”

             
“Why do anything?” Cal drove with one hand at the bottom of the steering wheel and the other resting on the door. “Just wake him enough to glamour him into sleeping until dusk. It should suffice.”

             
Daemon leaned forward.

             
“What if that makes him pee himself or something? Or if he has a wet dream or whatnot?”

             
“Jeez, Daemon. He’s a grown man I doubt he needs rubber sheets.”             

             
“Okay, but I’m offering him a bathroom break before I glamour him; I don’t want to sit in a frozen puddle of urine all day.”

             
He shook the man softly and urged him to step out of the car for a few minutes. After writing some gibberish in the snow, he returned, was glamoured, and passed out against Daemon’s shoulder. Quince’s snoring was only interrupted when he drooled. I bless a kiss goodnight to Daemon as he squirmed under the assault of saliva.