Awakened Desires (19 page)

I pulled into yet another cookie cutter, bland development off of the main road in the country-like setting. It was somewhere in between “Stepford Suburbia” and “Redneck Rural”. I couldn’t understand why people would want to live in the exact same houses that only varied by a shade of beige.

I was quite surprised the development was still standing. There were many twisty, hilly roads around the small neighborhoods with a decent amount of distance between them. Maybe the landscape was what saved them. It seemed like it would be a good place to check out. I was looking for supplies to take back to my small misfit group and, of course, looking for people to save or drain.

I really am a serial killer. Fuck me.

I truly loved to save people. It was some sort of a hero complex in my minutely flawed personality. People needed me as much as I needed them. Even though all the devastation was getting to me, I needed to build an army of worthy candidates in order to complete my mission. I needed to get to Cock-up, and doing it alone didn’t look to be an option, which pissed me off. The thought of not getting to him and facing punishment myself made my insides crawl.

Driving my Tahoe into the development, I crept down the street with my windows rolled down, listening and scoping out everything. It was eerily quiet…until I heard a female’s blood-curdling scream. My Sig was at the ready, like always.

Stopping in the middle of the road, I threw the truck in park and hopped out. Her screams seemed more urgent as they continued. Her desperate words, “Please! Help!” were repeated over and over, but it didn’t make me walk any faster because I didn’t know what I would be walking into. For all I know, it could have been an army of undeads on the hunt.

Quietly, I lurked around the side of the house, following the distinct sounds of the undead finding its prey. It was like a rabid animal going after its next meal. That always got my adrenaline pumping.

As I peered over the fence, a terrified, young lass—very gaunt and seemed as if she was barely out of school—was defending herself from behind a brick barbeque. I admired her self-defense skills for a second, then the familiar prickle of adrenaline coursed through my body, making me shudder.

I tip-toed through the open gate and made my way into the backyard. The decaying, naked undead man was swatting and snarling at the lass. I smirked, noting the streaker.

She had a long-handled fork in her hand and stabbed him a few times, all of which would be unsuccessful in making the undead true dead. I let out a quiet chuckle. He swatted at her, nearly hitting her in the head. Time to intervene.

“Hey!” I yelled. Both the lass and the undead man turned toward me. I was rather in control with my dominant pose. I raised my gun and spoke loudly, “Don’t move, love. I’m going to draw him to me.” She was frightened, but nodded. “Hey! Come on now! Come to poppa.” I licked my dry lips and rolled my neck, hoping for some relief from the taunting pain within the next few minutes.

I rather enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game. I was getting closer to the undead, while the undead staggered closer to me. At some point, we were going to meet in the middle and true death would be handed out with ease.

Stopping about halfway between the undead and the gate, I said, “Come on. Look at how delicious I look.” Wasn’t that the truth? I smiled at the undead while he sniffed the air. He staggered even closer to me. “That’s right. Come to poppa.” I glanced over at the lass, and shouted to her, “You might want to cover your eyes, love.”

As she covered her face with her hands, I put a bullet in the undead’s head. He was so decayed that his head exploded.
Bloody hell, that was epic. Gross…but epic.
He fell to the ground in a crumpled, sloppy pile of blackened blood and rotted tissue. “Another one bites the dust.” I chuckled to myself.

The lass stayed behind the barbeque, looking back and forth between me and the true dead. “Don’t be afraid, love. Come on out.” I held out my hand, but the lass didn’t move. “It’s okay. Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” I remembered that I should gently smile, so I did. She responded to that better than my demands.

She slowly pulled herself up, trembling with fear, but managed to come out from behind the barbecue and take a few steps closer to me. She stopped short of arm’s reach.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Her voice was shaky, but that tiny emo-looking lass had quite a potty mouth on her. That made me smile.

“Well, short of giving you the entire long, boring, drawn out, detailed story, that was a naked zombie, or undead, and I made it true dead, saving your life.”
Wink and nod, arsehole.

“Yeah…” She paused and looked curiously at the corpse. “I think I got that part.” I immediately thought she was a little ungrateful, but I swallowed that. A simple thank you would have sufficed. Maybe I was asking for too much.

“My name is Gunther. What’s yours?”

“What do you care?”

“Hmmm…a cynical, emo child. My favorite kind.” I laughed.

“I’m
not
a child!” she growled, clamping her fists tight and lunging forward.

I held up my hands to stop her, but realized that I still had my gun in my hand, so I tucked it in its usual resting spot. “Right. Okay, settle down a bit, please. I just saved your life. A simple thank you would be delightful.” Her ungrateful attitude didn’t amuse me. I put my hands on my hips and, for a moment, thought maybe I should put her out of her own misery. It just seemed wrong to drain a kid, though.

“Yeah, thanks. I guess.” She looked down at the ground. I took a step closer to her. When she looked back up at me, her eyes were swimming. “I’m sorry. It’s been a horrible couple weeks.”

“I understand, love. Really, I do. I’m very sorry for whatever has happened to you.” I paused and softly said, “It’s been hell for me, as well, with having to let go of… Well, let’s not go into that right now.”

I thought I just might be able to use one of my made up stories. I hoped my vague hint of sadness would seem genuine enough to bring her around. Her spitfire attitude was exactly what I was looking for. She reached up and tucked her short, greasy locks behind her ears.

“Look, I can help you. I have set up camp with two others in a house about five miles from here. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Why should I trust you?” She took a step back. Her distrust and fear were prevalent, and rightfully so. “You could just pick me up, drive me out to the middle of nowhere, and rape and murder me.”

I laughed, but then narrowed my eyes at her, incensed by her accusatory tone. “Look around you, love! Look fucking around!” I snapped. “Is there anyone else here?! Do you see anyone else around?! This
is
the middle of nowhere, sweetheart. I could have raped and murdered you by now if I truly desired.”

She quickly noted my cocky, egotistical attitude. That must be what Quinn was talking about.
Breathe, Erikkson
, I reminded myself. I was trying to be as patient as possible, but with the shortage of clean blood, my anger was quite close to the surface. Patience wasn’t one of my finest qualities to begin with. I rubbed my temples, trying to relieve the headache that was about to blast through my head like a pissed up double-decker driver.

I could see that she was running my words through her head. I had a feeling it was starting to make some sense to her. “So, you won’t do either one of those to me?”

I waved my hands in the air. “No way. That’s not me. I’m not that kind of person.” I may have been a serial killer, but a rapist? Nope. Women
begged
to be in my bed the first moment my emerald greens devoured them. Except Quinn. She hadn’t, but hopefully she would soon.

Mentally, I begged for the lass’ trust. I needed her. Well, I needed her blood. She took a deep breath and looked back at the modest house that was only about a decade old.

“I have nothing left here. Nothing to lose, I guess.” She was deeply saddened. Like the professional I was, I played on her emotions.

“Was this your home, love?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah…was,” she whispered. “Everyone is gone. I’m out of water and living on crumbs. I came out here to see if I could get water from the hose.”

“I can see that,” I said as I glanced at her gaunt body. She looked sickly thin. “Come with me and I will help you.” I held out my hand. “I have a truck out front. It’s fucking hot out here. Odd weather for this late in the year.” I took off my aviators, wiped the sweat from my brow with my sleeve, and put them back on. “My truck has air conditioning.”

That certainly had to be appealing to her. It was for me. I couldn’t wait to get back into the thing. The power had been out for several weeks and without air conditioning, the heat and humidity had been unbearable.

“Well, I guess if you kill me, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me.” Very true. I nodded in agreement. I had no intention of hurting the lass, but I desperately needed a fix. All of my joints were aching and with that blaring headache on the horizon, I wanted to fork my brain.

“Is there anything you want to grab from your home before we take off?”

She looked back over her shoulder at the house once again. “I’m locked out,” she murmured.

“I can open the door for you.” I jammed my hand in my pocket and pulled out my little tool set and had it open in seconds.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she skirted into the house.

“You’re welcome. I will wait right here. Take your time.” She nodded and shut the door.

Josie stepped into the house and softly closed the door behind her. She thought about locking it, but she had seen how easily Gunther opened the door and figured it would be useless. She made her way through the finished basement, running up the stairs to the main level.

She quickly looked around the country-themed kitchen all decked out with roosters and reminisced about her mother standing at the range making dinner. She missed her mother’s cooking. Her growling stomach was a painful reminder of everything that had happened. Then she looked toward the dining room and thought about her father sitting at the head of the table, joking around with her mom about everyday things.

Josie and her family had lived in that house since she was eight. It was a big step up for them—the very first house her parents had ever owned. She walked into the living room and looked at all the pictures her mother had hung on the walls. Most of the pictures of Josie were from her younger years. The older she became, the more she hid from the camera. She regretted not spending more time with her family.

As the outcast of the family and the outcast within her peer group, Josie spent most of her time locked up in her room, away from everyone listening to music. She trudged up the carpeted stairs, feeling her chest tighten with every step. When she made it to the top, she glanced into her parents’ bedroom and quickly headed down the hall, wanting to avoid any feelings. Without stopping, she passed by her brother’s room and found hers at the end.

Standing in the doorway, she looked around at all of her material possessions. She swallowed the lump in her throat and choked back her sobs as her eyes darted around the room. Then Josie focused on her acoustic guitar that was leaning against the wall next to her bed. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

She loved her guitar. It was the only thing that made her feel like a real person. Her uncle purchased it for her a few years ago because of her love of music. She taught herself the basics, then focused on learning a few of her favorite songs. Once she had the music down, she discovered that she enjoyed singing, as well.

Josie never sang for anyone, except the only boyfriend she ever had. He praised her up and down for her ability. After a few short months of them being together, he moved out west.

Picking up the guitar, she strummed the strings, trying to ignore the fact that one string was broken. She set it down and went to her closet. Everything was dirty. Turning to her dresser, she stood still staring at the picture of her family, contemplating what she should do.

Without a glance back, Josie turned on her heels, left her room, jogged down the first flight of stairs, and ran down the second set to the basement. She made it to the back door and opened it. Gunther was leaning against the siding, staring off into the distance.