Flesh Ravenous (Book 1) (9 page)

6

Happy Thanksgiving, I Guess

Lawrence

Lawrence
viewed that curvaceous figure dangling from the rope, and thought,
what a waste
. He also wondered,
why do I have a semi-boner right now?

I am fucking desensitized.

She must’ve been a C-cup, maybe even close to a D—Lawrence, knock that shit off! This is the wrong time to be horny right now.

Lawrence could hear his housemates racing down the hall and calling for Charlene. Tristan was first to enter the storage room, Kasey and Miles followed up behind. On instinct, the three crossed their arms, tucked hands beneath armpits to warm themselves from the draft.

“Charlene,” said Kasey, “are you okay, girl?”

Charlene shook her head and lurched around in her steps. She cupped her hands over her mouth as a wet burbling noise rolled in her throat. She pushed Lawrence aside. She stepped to the window and stuck her head out. Yellow and pink chunks blew out of her.

Lawrence, staring outside, watched the vomit splatter over Therese’s head and shoulder.

Charlene, still tilted outward, grabbed her strands of hair and brought it behind her neck. Another stream of chunks jetted out of her mouth.

Lawrence took pity on Therese’s corpse when throw-up hit a second time.

Charlene brought her head inside. “No, I’m not okay.” She whimpered. She turned around and fell into Sonya’s arms.

Sonya held her. “Are you…done throwing up?” she muttered, while possibly thinking,
don’t puke on me, bitch
.

Lawrence back stepped over the rope linking Therese and the bed’s leg to make room for the housemates coming over to the window.

Kasey caught glimpse. “Oh, Lord.” She turned and covered her nose and mouth with her hands. She walked passed Tristan and Miles as they approached.

Miles winced and shuddered after looking out. “Oh, bastard son of Christ.” He backed away from the window. “Helena, France,” he called to his wife and child standing out in the hallway, “you don’t wanna see this.”

Helena stepped into the room. “Therese is…”

“
Dead
. She’s dead—hung herself.”

Helena gasped and released a moan that sounded like a soft scream. “Goodness, oh goodness, no.” She left the room, taking France by the shoulder and leading her out with her.

Tristan looked out the window. He swallowed hard and glanced at Lawrence. “Jesus, what a waste, huh?”

Yeah,
thought Lawrence,
a waste of a pretty face and a hot, gorgeous body. I am totally fucking desensitized. Holy shit.
He wondered if all the horror he’d witnessed the past months had made him this way. “Okay, everyone,” he made a shooing motion with his hands, “let’s all clear out now.” His suggestion and motioning was unnecessary. Everyone already started toward the door in anguished silence.

Lawrence was the last to leave the storage room. He shut the door behind him and looked around at everyone standing in the hall. Everyone was present, save for Therese’s stepdaughter. Ally stood with her back against the wall, breathing heavily, her chest rising and shrinking, as though close to having a panic attack. She didn’t have to take a peek outside to know what happened.

“Where’s Joni?” Ally asked everyone. She then called out, “Joni!”

The door to Lawrence’s old bedroom opened, the room Therese and Joni had shared. Joni walked out to the hall, slowly and stiffly, as though trying to keep balance. One hand was behind her back. She bore no expression. The poor girl must also be desensitized by now, Lawrence thought. The sight of Joni reawakened misery in him. Suddenly, his knees felt week and shaky.
The poor girl,
Lawrence wanted to break down and cry for the girl. He had taken her father away from her, and the death of her father must’ve led to Therese’s suicide.
It’s not my fault,
he told himself.
I had to do it. It’s not my fault.

As Joni walked toward everyone, she lifted the hand that was at her back. She had the gun. It was aimed, but pointed slightly downward, as if too heavy for her little fingers.

Everyone either gasped or yelped.

“Joni,” said Ally, alarmed. “What are you doing with that?” She spoke with nervous anger. “Put it down.”

Lawrenced loosened with relief, seeing that Joni’s finger wasn’t on the trigger. He stepped forward and reached over to Joni.

Joni handed Lawrence the pistol. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Joni asked no one in particular. “I hid the gun, because I thought she would use it on herself. That’s what she tried to do after Caitlyn…” She cried. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Ally knelt down and held her.

“Where did she get this rope?” Lawrence asked, standing close to the opened window again, sprinkles of rain touching his skin. Tristan, Kasey, and Sonya sat around the room on different objects, Kasey a box, Sonya a large rolled up sleeping bag, and Tristan atop a laundry basket filled with towels.

During the late afternoon, the four had returned to the storage room, compelled to figure out when and why Therese took her own life. It compelled Lawrence, anyway, as he still felt indirectly at fault. He felt he should’ve been monitoring her, looking out for her, as she was, in a way, under his care. The motive as to why
may or may not have been obvious. Therese could’ve given up after Richard’s death, or perhaps she couldn’t handle the stress of the world’s drastic transition. Whatever the cause, the woman was selfish to leave Joni.

“I don’t remember having rope in this house,” Tristan said. “She must’ve had it in her pack.”

“I didn’t see this coming,” said Kasey. “Did any of you?”

“If we did, we would’ve been watching her,” said Lawrence. “She seemed to have gotten over me blasting her husband’s brains out.” He caught himself sounding too nonchalant, as though blasting brains out was something he did every day. “She only
seemed
. Maybe she was clinically depressed and off her meds. But, Joni knew about this, and didn’t warn us.”

“Joni probably didn’t wanna stir up trouble,” said Sonya. “She probably didn’t trust any of us, didn’t want us to worry, so she hid the gun.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she did. Otherwise, we’d be one bullet short and scrubbing up brain residue from the walls.”

“How about a little respect for the dead, Lawrence?”

Lawrence, suddenly irritable, mussed up his hair as he scratched his head, and now the cold winds outside bothered him, giving him goosebumps and stinging his nipples. He attempted to slide the window shut, but forgot that the rope was in the way. He let go of the window and said, “Never mind.” He turned around and faced Sonya. “Why should I respect this dead woman? Huh? For one thing, she
is
dead, and she doesn’t know what the hell I’m saying. She chose a coward’s end, leaving her daughter behind—abandoning her daughter. Therese turned out to be a selfish cunt, a weakling. She didn’t leave a suicide note, an apology note, or any kind of note for Joni. Now the kid suffers, lost her whole family. So…No, Sonya, I have no respect or sympathy for this dead chick, because she didn’t have any respect for the living.”

Everyone in the room stared at him. None had anything to say. The silence made Lawrence feel sheepish. He didn’t mean to sound cold, nor did he mean for his response to become a tirade.

“Forgive me, guys,” said Lawrence, “just venting a little. I…Maybe I’m losing it, too—I don’t know. I think we should make the move now—well not
now—
but tomorrow. I think we’re ready to get out. If we succeed, it could boost the morale in this house.”

Sonya, Kasey, and Tristan were set to comment, when the bedroom door opened.

In walked Ally, who closed the door behind her.

Lawrence saw Tristan glance over to her and immediately look away to hide his face. Ally made a similar reaction, glanced at Tristan, made a grim expression, and pretended he wasn’t there.

Lawrence, Kasey, and Sonya glanced at each other, and Lawrence knew the two women also felt the awkwardness.
Yup, elephant in the room and giraffe outside the window,
referring to the grotesqueness of Therese’s stretched out neck.
What sick humor that was
.
Yup, I’m losing it.

Desensitized.

“How is she?” Kasey asked Ally.

“She’s asleep now,” said Ally, coming over to the box next to Kasey. She sat down. “We’ll have a new roommate downstairs. Charlene’s letting her have the top bunk.” Her eyes roamed to everyone, except for Tristan, again she pretended he wasn’t there. “I heard what you were saying about tomorrow, Lawrence. I’m going.” She sounded insistent.

“Are you sure about that?” Lawrence replied.

“I’m not afraid. I have a reason to go.”

Lawrence knew Ally’s motivation was Joni. Everyone in the house saw that she’d grown close to the little girl, and how much Joni clung to Ally. “Joni wouldn’t want you to go. She’d be afraid to lose you, too.”

“She won’t lose me.” Her mouth quivered, her eyes reddened. “I have a reason to go. I won’t be afraid. Who said you could make all the decisions, Lawrence? And what right do you have to stop me from going?”

“Wait…” said Lawrence.
What’s with the sudden bitchiness?
“Ally, I wasn’t trying to make the decisions. I’m not trying to stop you from going. I was just thinking how troubling it’d be for Joni. I know she’ll worry about you.”

“I’m sorry, Lawrence.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, this is your house, and you have the right to go if you want. So, you’re with us tomorrow then?”

Ally nodded. “Who else is going?”

Lawrence pointed at Sonya and then to Tristan. “Them two.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “And
me
. I’m definitely going, because I’m desensitized
as fuck.
” Everyone’s eyes flicked to him, their brows furrowed with either confusion or concern. He straightened his face when he realized he was smiling.

“I wanna get out there, too,” said Kasey. “I may not be…uh…
desensitized
like you, Lawrence, but y’all know I’m capable.”

“I think four’s enough,” said Sonya. “If we should find more supplies out there, we’ll need space in the car. We’re not gonna survive on just one excursion for food.”

“Eventually, anyone who wants to go will have a chance to go,” Lawrence told Kasey.

“We should take my Honda tomorrow,” said Sonya. “It has four doors, easy and quick for us to get in and out, and lots of room inside. We should be good on gas, too.”

“Perfect,” said Lawrence. “We’ll eat a big meal tonight. It should give us more energy for tomorrow morning. Alright everyone?”

Everyone replied with head nods.

Lawrence turned around and looked out the opened window. Therese rocked slightly on the rope as the dead continued their attempt to grab hold of her, only managing to scrape their fingertips on the soles of her shoes. The dead were relentless, endlessly violent and wild, never tired or slowed, and, not to mention, gruesome and frightening in appearance, intimidating. They knew no fear. Lawrence, along with Ally, Sonya, and Tristan, would have to face those monsters up close tomorrow. Lawrence watched the horde, studied them.

“We should cut the rope and let those things have her now,” said Tristan. “I don’t think Joni should pay her mom a visit. It’s not a good setting to say goodbye.”

“I’ll get a knife,” said Sonya, rising from the sleeping bag she sat on. “Or maybe the axe would be better.

“No, wait,” said Lawrence. “Leave her. We’ll need Therese tomorrow.”

It was a little after seven p.m. when Miles and Helena finished preparing Thanksgiving dinner. There wasn’t any turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin desserts, or any other traditional dishes. Lawrence, much like everyone else, didn’t care much for turkey. All anyone cared about now was silencing their stomach rumbles.

Upon the dining table was a large bowl of “spaghetti,” spaghetti noodles drowned with a mix of canned chili, canned tomatoes, and Sloppy Joe sauce. In a smaller bowl was corned beef, stewed with mushrooms and collard greens, all from cans of course. Surrounding the entrées were plates of mixed vegetables, green beans, and corn.

Lawrence used to think that all canned food had a strange, metallic smell to them. But this evening, he had to suck his tongue to keep himself from drooling. Steam and aromas wafted from the hot dishes. Anything cooked would’ve smelled delicious to Lawrence right now, even if it were a roadkill skunk or a leather boot from a dumpster.

The housemates filled the six-chaired dining table, Lawrence, Tristan, and Sonya, pulled chairs from the kitchen to squeeze in and make the table fit nine. There was somberness as all gathered, no humorous conversations or reminisces about past holiday events. The morning started off merry. Lawrence remembered waking to the sounds of “Happy Thanksgiving.” He had even reconciled with Tristan and made peace with Sonya. Therese’s selfishness ruined the rest of the day, made the affair depressing and bleak.