Flesh-Eater (Book 1): Fear the Fever (5 page)

D
ancing through the reeds, humming to herself, Millie went about picking daisies for her strawberry blonde hair.  Once she had gathered enough, she sat down, with her feet dangling in the creek and proceeded to braid them together.  She looked up at the sky, watching the dark clouds roll in, wondering where Zeke had got to.

Leaning back on her arms, she let the last of the sun warm her face, as she wiggled her toes in the cool water.  She would wait a little longer before seeking him out.  It wasn’t like him to miss their meeting, so she knew it must be something important.

A rustle in the fields came from behind, signalling his arrival.  Smiling, she began to sing, as she always did when he joined her.

“Take my hand in yours,

I’ll follow you to the moon,

Anywhere you want to go.

Honey, I’m yours

Now and forever more.

You are my dream,

My everything,

I need you more than words can say

I love you more than yesterday.”

She looked back over her shoulder, where she thought she had heard him.  But no-one was there.  She shrugged and continued to sing.

“Take my heart with yours,

Keep it safe and warm,

Hold it forever in your arms,

Honey, I’m yours.

You are my dream,

My everything.

I want you more than words can say,

I love you more with every day.”

She heard another rustle, this time to her left.  Climbing to her feet, she called out.

“Very funny, Zeke!  You missed your part.  Come and sing with me!”  She slipped her shoes back on, and started walking along the creek’s edge, in the direction of the noises.  “Zeke?” she called again.  Still no reply.  “Alright, you don’t have to sing with me.  Just come out!”

Silence.  If this was meant to be a game, it wasn’t very funny.  A shiver ran down her spine as the thought dawned on her, that perhaps it wasn’t Zeke she had heard.

“Hello?  Is somebody in there?”  She stepped away from the water, towards the field from which she came.

A low groan came from within, stopping her in her tracks.  Something was definitely hiding there, watching her.  Not willing to wait and see what it was, she spun around and leapt over the creek, running towards Zeke’s place.

She could hear feet thundering behind her.  She willed her own feet to move even faster, determined not to let whoever it was, catch up to her.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing laboured.  She was not used to sudden exertions like this.

Gulping back air, she forced herself to keep going. 
Don’t look back!

The farmhouse was in sight. 
Only a little further, you can do this!

Her pursuer was catching up.  She could hear his short, raspy breaths with every step.

A car was pulling in by the house. 
Please be Zeke!

“Zeke!” she screamed, as she pushed her body past its limits.  “Zeke!”  She waved her arms in the air, desperate to get his attention.  “Zeke!”

“Millie?” he called out before he noticed the person chasing after her.  He ran to the door, fumbling with the lock.  He swung the door open and grabbed the shotgun they kept there for emergencies.  He ran down the steps.

“Zeke!” Millie screamed again, tripping over her own feet.  She tumbled to the ground in a heap.  Zeke was running, gun aimed.

“Millie, stay down!” he yelled.

The gun fired, just as the assailant was almost upon her.  He had been hit in the shoulder, but he continued to run towards her.  He leapt in the air, diving.

“Zeke!”  Millie was on her hands and knees, trying to get away, but he had hold of her foot, and was dragging her back towards him.  She was kicking her feet at his face and shoulder, making a connection with whatever she could, and still he kept coming.  As Zeke got closer, he realised what he was seeing.  That same dull grey flesh and those unmistakable red sunken eyes.  It was another flesh-eater.

He pulled his gun up once more, aiming between the eyes.  He pulled the trigger.  This time, he didn’t miss.

Blood and brain matter splattered all over Millie as she screamed.  The body had dropped to the ground in front of her, the stump of his head on her feet.  She kicked it away, scrambling backwards, trying to get some space between them.

Zeke ran up to her, scanning her arms and legs for bite marks.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.  She looked up at him, with her big green eyes, tears spilling over.  She shook her head.  Her body shuddered as she began to sob.  He pulled her in tightly, rubbing his hand on her back.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay.  You’re safe now.”

It was then that he remembered his mother, passed out in the car.

“W
e’re gonna have to amputate,” Zuckerman said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“His leg.  If he’s coming with us, we’re gonna have to cut it where he got bit.  He’ll turn otherwise.”

“He’s right.  Haven’t you ever seen any zombie movie ever?”

“You are not cutting my leg off!” Coach cried out in agony.  He turned to Chad, his eyes pleading.  “Don’t let them do this.”

“Your call Coach, but if it doesn’t come off then you can’t come with us.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Z,” Chad said.

“No, it’s gotta be done.  He’ll only slow us down,” Billy said quietly.

“Sorry, Coach.”  Chad looked down, he couldn’t meet his eyes.  “Majority rules.”

“You can’t just leave me here.  What if they come back?”

“That’s something you’re gonna have to worry about,” Zuckerman said, gathering up his tool belt and anything else he could find that may be of use.  “We should check the other bags, grab their food.  You never know what we’ll be facing when we get back to town.”

“You can’t possibly think that there will be more like him,” Coach scoffed.

“Oh really?  You think Ross just up and decided he was gonna go all cannibal on your arse?”

“Zuckerman,” Chad cautioned.

“Come on, Chad.  You don’t believe this bullshit do you?” Coach pleaded.

“I don’t know what to believe, Coach.”  He paused, looking away.  “I think Zuckerman might have a point though.  You saw Joe, he turned as soon as he was bit.”  Coach shook his head.

“I can’t believe this,” he said under his breath.  He attempted to get up, but there was no way he could put any weight on his leg.  He rested his head in his hands.  “Okay,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, you can cut it off,” he said dejectedly.

“Right.  We’re gonna need some alcohol to clean it.  A belt or something to cut off the blood flow.  And the sharpest knife we can find.”

“I’ve got vodka in my bag,” Billy called out as he ran to the back of the bus.

“Wait, we should move him to the bench seat, we can’t do it here,” Chad said.

“True that.”

“Gimme a lift.”  Chad grabbed Coach under his arms.  “One, two, three!”

Coach cried out in pain.  “Jesus!  Be more careful!”

“Okay, now set him down, nice and easy.”  They slowly lowered him to the vinyl seat in the back of the bus.  Billy handed over the bottle of vodka he had stashed in his bag.

“We need something he can bite on.  This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“What about the hammer?”

“That’ll have to do.”  Chad pulled it out of his back pocket.  “We can use my belt too.”  He handed the hammer to Coach, and proceeded to wrap his belt just above Coach’s left knee.  He pulled it as tight as he could before buckling it up.

“You ready?” he asked.

“What do you think?  Of course I’m not bloody ready!” he spat.  “Just get it over with.”  Coach put the hammer in his mouth and bit down.

Zuckerman poured vodka over the fire axe they had found.  He drizzled some over Coach’s leg too and gave him a little bit in his mouth to help ease the pain.  Chad had hold of his shoulders, while Billy braced his other leg.

Cracking his neck, Zuckerman swung the axe over his shoulder and down into the flesh above Coach’s knee.  Chad had to fight to keep him steady as his back arched and his body convulsed.

“Hold him still!”

Chad threw his body over Coach’s middle.  Zuckerman drew back the blade, and took another swing.  The axe lodged deep into the thigh, hitting the bone.  Coach’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

“Get it done while he’s out!” Chad yelled.

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”  Zuckerman wrenched the blade back and forth until it came away from the bone.  He took another swing, this time cracking the bone.  “Almost there!”  He wiped the sweat from his brow, before continuing.  One final blow sent the lower half of his leg falling to the floor.

“Pour some of that vodka over it,” Zuckerman panted, wiping a mixture of blood and sweat across his forehead.

“Billy, find me a bandage or something to wrap around his leg.  Is there a first aid kit in here?”

“Should be up the front, where the driver sits.  I’ll go check.”  Billy stumbled down the aisle, Chad watching him as he did.

“Is he alright?” he whispered to Zuckerman.

“Billy?  Yeah, I think so.  As right as you can be after watching a man’s leg get cut off with an axe.”

“Good point.”  He pointed at the wound.  “Why’s it still bleeding so much?” Chad asked.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Do you think we need to burn it?  Like, to seal it?”

“That’s probably not a bad idea.  I don’t know if I can do
that
though.”

“Says the guy who just used an axe on another man,” Chad said.  “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”  He fished a lighter out of his pocket.  “This could take a while.  You’ll need to help pin him down if he comes to.”

“Roger.”  They switched places, as Billy joined them with the first aid kit in hand.  He plonked down on one of the seats, rummaging through it to find the bandages.

Chad flicked the lighter.  He took a deep breath and then held the flame to the gaping wound.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Billy cried, watching the skin bubble up under the flame.

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

“Oh God, that’s gross.”  He held his hand up to his nose.  Swallowing back the rising bile, he ran from the bus before emptying the contents of his stomach.

“Pussy!” Zuckerman called after him.  “Seriously though, that smell is something else.”

“Nearly done.  Hand me the bandages.”

Zuckerman stood up, peering over the seat where Billy had been sitting.

“He’s gone and dropped them in the bloody mess down there.  Here, tie this around it instead.”  He threw a discarded tee to his friend.

“That’ll have to do I guess.”  Chad went to work wrapping the make-shift bandage around the stump, securing it with the belt.  “We’re gonna have to carry him.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

T
he smell of blood assaulted his nostrils as Billy rummaged through the first aid kit.  He wasn’t used to so much blood.  Unlike the majority of his team mates, he had never grown up on a farm, let alone visited one, so the butchery that had just happened was not something he could wrap his head around.  Sure, he knew it needed to be done, but he couldn’t imagine ever doing that to another human being.

The sound it had made when the axe hit the bone was the most horrendous sound he’d ever heard, and that included hearing Ross rip into his friends.  It had been a struggle to hold Coach still without passing out himself.

Bandages in hand, he looked up, ready to hand them over.  What he saw Chad doing was unbelievable.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he cried out.  The smell of burned flesh hitting him like a slap in the face.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” Chad had said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Billy bolted for the door.  His breakfast was making a fast approach back up and into his mouth.  The air on his face was the last straw.  He doubled over, retching up every last bit of food in his stomach.

“Pussy!”  He heard Zuckerman call, but he didn’t care.  He wasn’t cut out for this stuff.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and bracing his hands on his thighs, he attempted to stand upright.  Spots blurred his vision.  He crouched back down, trying to catch his balance.  Sweat poured off him and he felt as though he could be sick again.

“Come on, Billy.  Get it together,” he whispered to himself.

A sound to his left caught his attention, making him sit up.  He scanned the area around him, holding his breath as he listened.

Again, a rustle.  Forgetting his nausea, Billy stood up, stepping closer to the fields.  He tried telling himself it was just a hare, but the hairs standing on the back of his neck, told him otherwise.

A flash of colour.  Another rustle.

Billy took a step back towards the open door of the bus.

“Guys?” he hissed.  Too preoccupied with trying to lever Coach into their arms, they didn’t hear him.  “Guys?” he said a little louder.  He took another shaky step backwards.  He had his back to the bus now.  Feeling along the wall beside him, his hands found the cool metal handle of the garden fork Chad had been carrying.  Wrapping his fingers around it, he brought it up in front of him.

“Stay back!” he yelled.  “I have a weapon, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

A low growl came out of the field.

“Fuck!” he whispered to himself.  “I’m warning you!  Stay back!”

The figure stepped out into the open.  It was one of their team mates, only he looked different.  Eyes red, skin grey.  Crouching low, ready to spring, he let out another animalistic growl.

“Guys!” Billy shouted, his eyes locked on the figure in front of him.

“What is it?  Oh shit!”  Zuckerman jumped down beside Billy, the fire axe still in hand.

The creature took flight, pouncing on top of Billy, the prongs of the garden fork piercing its abdomen.  He fought with all his strength to push it up and away.  Spit glistened on its mouth as it chomped the air around his neck.

“Do something!” he yelled at Zuckerman.

“Gaahhh!”  The axe head landed in the back of the flesh-eaters head.  Howling, it turned to face Zuckerman, the axe still lodged firmly.

Billy jumped to his feet, pulling the fork from the creature before him, swinging it through the air until it too, connected with its head, pushing the axe in further.  The flesh-eater dropped to the ground.

“Did it get you?” Billy panted.

“Nah, you?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”  He inspected his hands and face all the same.

“We should get outta here before any more show up.”

“I’m with you on that.”

“Chad?  You ready to roll?”

Chad poked his head out the door.

“Yeah, sure.  Just as soon as one of you gets your arse in here and helps me carry Coach.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?”  Zuckerman winked at Billy.  They each made a fist.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

“Rock beats scissors, looks like you’re the lucky one,” Zuckerman said, slapping Billy on the back.  “Now come on guys, we really need to move.”