Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance (16 page)

"Cheryl!" Aidan called, after spotting her.

She froze as he came running up.

He motioned for her to follow him to a more secluded area.

What the hell?
Mark couldn't tell her who talk to, and she really wanted to know how he'd been wounded.

When they were behind one of the teepees, she pointed to his eye patch. "What happened?"

"This?" he asked, pointing to his bad eye. He lifted the patch up, revealing an eyelid collapsed in over a sunken pit. 

Cheryl shuddered.

"I got in a scuffle with a guard at the fort. He wasn't too happy about me trying to check my bike out of Impound."

"But, it was your motorcycle."

"Not…
technically
."

She remembered now, the memory slamming into her like a fist to the cheek. The Harley-Davidson Electric Glide Classic had belonged to the guy who'd tried to assault her at Big Todd's. Since Aidan's bike had broken down and they had to bail out of a bad situation real quick, they figured they needed his bike more than his corpse ever would.

"The guard had a poker like the ones they use at the Baiting Stations. He rammed it into my face before I saw it coming. At the time, I was too pissed to realize how bad it was. After a couple more rounds with him, I managed to kick the poker out of his hand and smashed his head with my helmet."

"You…"

"No. I didn't kill him. I just knocked him out. But, I'm pretty sure that he spent at least a week in the infirmary after that. Maybe that's where I should have gone, but I figured my freedom was worth losing an eye. By the next day, it was oozing pus, infected and hurting like
a mother
. When I ran into the evacuees from Black Todd's, I looked so bad they didn't think I was going to make it, but Jade's father had been a horse veterinarian, so he said he knew a thing or two. He told me I had the choice of giving up the eye, or chancing the infection spreading and losing my life. He did the operation himself after giving me a couple shots of the moonshine he had left in his pack. You know…it's the weirdest thing to see your own eyeball staring back up at you. I gave the damn thing a funeral there, buried it under a rock."

Cheryl couldn't help but think how odd it was that the two men she cared about both had physical scars of some sort. Then, she remembered her leg. They were all part of the mutilated survivors club.

"I was so worried about you. Seriously didn't ever think I'd see you again, at least not alive. I had nightmares that I'd be on patrol duty and have to shoot you when you came back as an Eater."

He chuckled. "Came pretty close to being bitten lots of times, so I can't say that would never have happened."

She winced, trying not to envision that scenario.

"There were some pretty rough days out here when I wished going back to the fort was an option, but I couldn't. I was an outlaw. And I'm pretty sure if I had returned, the welcoming committee wouldn't have come bearing a plate of cookies."

"Not likely," she said. "Even if you'd been allowed in, you'd have gone batty going through quarantine again and probably would have ended up in the brink anyway."

He laughed. "That's truer than I'd like to admit."

There was a moment of awkward silence between them. Then, their eyes met.

"Cheryl…" he said.

She interrupted whatever thought he intended to finish. "You know…Mark isn't too happy about the time we spent together. He's kind of being an ass. I wish he'd just get over it, but I think he's got a pretty doom and gloom mindset these days."

"You can't really blame him, can you? Things do look pretty dire."

"Yeah, but it's either just put bullets in our own heads or go on. To go on, I've got to have some kind of optimism."

"That what? That we'll take the world back?"

"I'm not living in that kind of fantasy land. I'd just like to find somewhere relatively safe, get back to some kind of normalcy…whatever flavor that happens to be."

He agreed. "Whatever that looks like…I'm all for it."

They talked for a few more minutes, keeping the conversation lighter. He told her about more of the defensive tactics they'd taken to secure the camp. There were bear traps set in an arc around the camp, tens of yards out; their locations were marked with flags made out of strips of red cloth and sticks.  He also told her they had dozens of Molotov cocktails prepared, only for use in a worst case scenario, explaining that turning the mountainside into a flaming hell wasn't something he'd do on a whim.

As conversation wound down, he tried to offer her his airborne bunk again, but she refused. "You know I can handle a gun just fine. I'll stay down here and help out with the 3 a.m. shift as I promised."

Then, he walked off mumbling, "You always were a bit stubborn…
haven't changed
."

Before she could decide whether to go back to her tent or stay awake and wait for her shift, a figure jumped out of the shadows. It was Deanna, who'd obviously been eavesdropping. Her face was scrunched up in a wicked snarl.

She twisted a knife in front of Cheryl's face.

"Don't mess with my man…or…I swear I'll rip you!"

Cheryl held her hands up. "Whoa…I don't know what you're talking about. Aidan's just an old friend."

"Bullshit," she said. "He's talked about you for months like you was some kind of holy goddess…and I've seen the way he looks at you…when you don't know he's looking."

Cheryl was dumbstruck as Deanna took off.
As if there wasn't enough to worry about…

Chapter 12

Since Kai had insomnia and was wandering around the camp, Cheryl hung out with him until it was time for her shift. Then, her guard time was spent pacing, marking time with Jade, as they listened for anyone encroaching on the camp. A couple of Eaters ventured nearby, but their louds moans and clumsy gait gave them away long before they were a serious threat. Jade took both of them out with his crossbow, keeping it quiet to avoid rousing those who were sleeping.

When her shift was over, she crawled back into the tent. Mark wasn't there. She supposed he did his earlier shift on the other side of the camp and hadn't returned. Figuring she could squeeze in a little sleep, she lay down and curled into a ball, immediately drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Shortly after dawn, she woke and found that she was still in the tent alone. She could hear the camp already buzzing with activity. After unzipping the tent, she stepped out and followed her nose towards the center where a group of people were sitting next to the newly lit fire. She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw eggs frying in pans over the fire pit.

Earl patted the stump next to him when he saw her. "Sleeping in, hunh?"

Cheryl sat. "I had a late watch shift." She salivated at the fried egg and deer sausage on his plate. "Eggs? I haven't had them in months!"

"We got a few hens a few weeks ago. Rescued them from a pen where they were down to pecking nothing but dirt. We keep them about a quarter mile from here, though, so they don't attract trouble. They didn't have chickens at that fort you were at?"

"They had some for a while, but they disappeared. Rumor was someone stole them out of the coop for a meal."

"That's a shame. Then again, what I would give for some fried drumsticks like my momma used to make!"

After filling her plate with a meager ration of the breakfast, she ate voraciously, unable to slow herself down. When she was done, she helped wash dishes and wandered around until she found Mark. Eventually, she spotted him around the back side of some tents with Jake and several of the other guys from her group who were getting a lesson from Jade on how to work a crossbow.

She waved and passed on by, continuing to visit here and there, hoping to find some useful task to do. Kai was tending minor wounds around the camp. Zach and Diego seemed to be working on their own personal fitness routines—on opposite sides of the camp. Jasmine was learning how to sew deer hides to use to make the tents and teepees more element-proof. And Edmond was sweeping and tidying up his sleeping area.

She was thankful that she didn't see Deanna anywhere. Cheryl figured that after making her threat, she'd been all over Aidan last night, leaving her scent like a tomcat marking its territory.

When she spotted him, he was sitting next to a large flat stone that served as a table to hold an array of guns. He and another one of his men were starting to clean them.

"Morning," she said as she walked up.

"Hey," Aidan said, continuing to clean the barrel of an AR-15 with a makeshift brush made out of some sort of plant fibers.

"Everyone seems pretty busy. What can I do to help?"

"Well," he said, after thinking for a moment. "We need someone to scout by the road today. How about you and…"

"Chip," the young man said as he walked up, seeing Aidan pointing at him.

"You and
Chip
can take a couple of guns and grab some binoculars from the supply tent. When you see the road, stay hidden. Any movement, any vehicle,
anything
…you boogie back here and report.

Cheryl agreed, thankful that she was assigned a task, so she could feel useful. She and Chip headed out a few minutes later after getting some water and strips of deer jerky to take with them.

When they reached an overlook a half hour later, they found a perch with a good view of the road below. A nearby oak tree gave them shade, and the scrub around it provided cover, so they wouldn't be seen by anyone driving by.

The next few hours were uneventful. They saw nothing but a jackrabbit hopping across the road and a snake slithering out to the middle to sun itself before deciding to mosey on to the other side.

By the time the sun was directly overhead and they were sweating through their shirts, her resolve to do something useful began to wane along with her ability to keep her eyelids open. They decided to take turns napping. Cheryl went first after explaining how little sleep she'd had the night before.

She had no idea how much time had passed when Chip nudged her awake. "Cheryl!"

Instantly alert, she sprang up from her curled position and peered through the binoculars after he handed them to her.

There was a caravan of white trucks. She counted…eight, nine, ten, eleven. When they got closer, she could see the ominous triangle symbol on their roofs.

O.N.E.

A chill rippled down her spine, a swirl of both curiosity and fear.
Who were they? Why were they here?

She soon got an answer, but certainly not one she wanted.

The trucks stopped in the road and men hopped out. There were in full tactical gear including helmets and gloves that seemed to be made out of some sort of chainmail or shark-proof fabric that gleamed in the sunlight. Automatic weapons in hand, they ran to the back of the trucks and rolled up the doors. Then, they ran back and got inside the cab.

A second later, she saw hands fumbling around the corners of the truck walls. Then, faces appeared—horrible, gnarled, decayed faces with dead, filmy eyes. They began to tumble out. One by one they came, landing on the road then picking themselves up and shambling around. At first their movements seemed random and aimless, but it didn't take long for them to orient themselves like compasses, pointing towards the very spot where she and Chip were sitting.

As the trucks pulled away, heading further down the road, the discarded Eaters started moving uphill towards them.

"Oh man," Chip said, scrambling to his feet. "How many?"

"Looks ten, twelve dozen at least."

"Get back to camp!"

They ran as fast as their legs would carry them, leaping over rocks, jumping gullies, and ignoring the scrapes from tree limbs and prickles from cactus needles that reached out to grab them as they passed.

Minutes later, they arrived back at the camp, so breathless and exhausted that neither could speak for a few seconds. Then, finally they blurted it out.

"Trucks…there were trucks. They let them out!"

"…coming this way…hundred…maybe more…"

Aidan didn't waste time pressing them for more details. "Get to the trees!"

His command started a chain reaction. Their method of sounding the alarm was a fast-spreading whisper, one man or woman to the next. Seconds later, they were all sky high, some in the raised bunks, others clinging to the trunks of trees. They looked down, waiting with guns at the ready.

Cheryl asked one of the Vultures who was perched next to her why they didn't just bug out on their motorcycles and he replied, "We did that once. Camp was nearly destroyed. They came through like a bunch of marauding bears. They smelled our scent on the teepees and tents and tore them to shreds. It took us a couple of weeks to put things back together. So…if it's no more than a few dozen of them…we decided we can handle it. We'll just take to the trees, take them out, and haul the bodies away, so they don't stink up the place or attract more."

She figured that made sense, but knew she'd sure feel better breezing down the road away from danger. Of course, there weren't enough bikes for all of them. A quick evacuation might cause a life or death squabble over who got a seat. Cheryl knew her group wouldn't have a chance. These Vultures were the type who'd protect their Harley-Davidsons with their lives—there was no way anyone was going to wrestle the handlebars away from them.

As the minutes dragged on, the stagnant, windless air grew increasingly hot. Their sweaty fingers poised on their guns and crossbow triggers, scanning the area in a full circle around them for any sign of movement.

"How long do you figure it would take them to get here at the rate they were moving?" Aidan asked Chip.

"I'd say about twenty minutes to half an hour, the same as it took us to get down there this morning."

They continued to wait. Thirty minutes…then forty five passed. There were no sounds of movement in the forest around them. After an hour, they began to grow restless.

Mark looked accusingly at Cheryl and Chip. "How many did you say you saw?"

"Dozens," she replied. "They turned our way, sniffed the air, and started heading up. If they'd stayed on that trajectory, they should have been here by now."

Ben teased Chip. "Did you both pick some mushrooms while you were out there? Maybe you were hallucinating."

"You calling me a damn liar? We know what we saw. There were a hundred skanky corpses headed up the mountain! You don't believe me? You hike down that way and look for yourself."

Ben seemed to mull that idea over.

"I'll go with you," Diego said.

"Me too," Zach said, ignoring Diego's glare.

Ben couldn't back down then, so the three of them scrambled down from their perches.

"You be careful!" Aidan shouted after them. "Don't try to be heroes. Run back if you even see one of them."

Diego gave him a salute and they took off, heading towards the road.

Twenty minutes later, the campers were still perched in the trees, waiting for the attack that never came...and waiting for the men to return safely.

"How did we dodge that bullet?" Edmond asked. "Obviously, those Eaters weren't coming here."

"Maybe they ran into some of our traps," one of the Vultures offered.

"We don't have enough traps to snare a hundred of them coming at once," the one to his right said.

Aidan glumly said, "We'll have to break camp.
They know we're here
."

"How do you know that?" Jake asked him, looking nervous for the first time. "Maybe it was random. Maybe—"

"Releasing Eaters…right in this area? They sent the
dogs
. They were searching for us. Luckily, there was no downwind to give us away, so they must have called them off."

"Called them off?" Cheryl asked. "How is that poss—"

"I told you. They control them. I don't know how."

Cheryl thought back to the very first day of the epidemic in her town. When she'd hidden in a shop with Mark and a bunch of other people, she'd looked out the window and seen a group of Eaters gathering in the park across the street. They were huddled together like a pack. It wasn't proof of any remaining brain function, but it did point to the possibility that there was still some sort of
group think
going on, and maybe O.N.E. had figured out how to harness that.

Aidan was still talking about packing up and moving out when Diego burst back into the camp. Everyone stared down at him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

"It's the weirdest thing!" Diego said. "There are corpses everywhere down by the road. Looks like they were headed up towards us, but they just keeled over. They all have one of these sticking in the back of their heads." With a gloved hand, he held up a thin black box about the size of a business card.

Aidan's eyes went wide. "What the hell is that?"

"It looks like a transmitter of some sort," Mark said.

"Clean it up, and we'll have a better look at it."

After Diego left, Zach and Ben showed up. Both weren't happy that Diego had run ahead of them and spilled the news without them.

"I almost went a round with your bigmouthed donkey. He doesn't know when to lay off."

Zach's complaint was directed to Aidan who didn't bother to reply. Cheryl couldn't blame him. He had better things to do than referee the scuffles of grown men who were acting like school boys.

Diego came back a few minutes later. As he handed the device to Aidan, Cheryl got a whiff of bleach emanating from it and knew they must have a bottle stashed somewhere that they rationed.

Aidan turned the box over, revealing a circular attachment with a wire sticking out and an array of fat needles. "This looks like some sort of electrode and injection device."

"Looks like O.N.E.'s Dr. Frankenstein has been busy in the workshop," Diego said.

Earl started giggling uncontrollably.

Edmond flashed him a look of scorn. "What is so bloody funny?"

"Man…what I wouldn't give to have my own remote-controlled zombie! That's a hoot."

No one else seemed to see any humor in the idea. They all looked frightened.

Examining the box, Aidan said, "Maybe this was some sort of test. They let them loose then went on down the road a ways to see if they could exterminate them with the push of a button." After a little more tinkering, he pulled the box apart and stared at its innards. "Actually, this thing is pretty ingenious."

They all hunched over, trying to get a better look.