Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance (7 page)

"We'd better enjoy tonight, then…while we're still young…
and alive
."

Yvonne raised an imaginary glass to her, and Cheryl toasted her back. Then, bowing with a sweep of her hand Yvonne opened the door. A cloud of cigarette smoke, thick enough to knock them over, blasted them in the face. It was so heavy inside, it was hard to make out more than a couple of yards inside the entry way.

"Whew!"

"Looks like a party," Cheryl said, considering changing her mind and heading back to the room.

"Come on…" Yvonne grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. "…if the dead are not raised, let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!"

"Is that how it goes?"

"Yup. First Corinthians 15:32."

But, the dead are raised,
Cheryl thought. And she had no plans to eat, drink, and get too merry this evening.

Because the inventory of club supplies varied as much as the merchandise in the marketplace, no one ever knew what kind of party it was going to be from week to week. A new shipment of music or beverages always brought in bigger crowds, and dry parties without beer or any sort of liquor weren't as well attended. She didn't really care what the drinks were or what the theme was tonight as long as she accomplished what she came to do. Despite knowing that, her feet stuck to the floor, refusing to move forward while she stared at the bizarre scene inside.

Tonight's theme seemed to be some kind of psychedelic trip.

Cheryl didn't like it. She had a premonition that this was going to be long, weird night—one that she'd never forget.

Chapter 6

Everything glowed purple underneath the black lights suspended from the ceiling. In lieu of a disco ball, someone had hung a beach ball. It was covered with squares of shiny aluminum foil that reflected the flashes of LED lights that swept the room. Brilliant colors of red, blue, and green, created mesmerizing patterns of figure eights and trails of dots. A pulsating electronic beat animated dozens of dancers in the center of the room. Between flashes of a strobe light, they seemed to jerk around like marionettes.

Yvonne put a hand on her back and gave her a light shove, pushing her over the threshold. "Wow. This is wild!"

"Yeah," Cheryl said, taking small steps towards the gatekeeper, a goliath-like man with arms like tree trunks who manned a folding table near the door. "Very
different
."

"It looks like a rave."

Cheryl couldn’t hear her very well over the loud music. "A what?"

Yvonne didn't seem to hear her as she stepped forward and handed her ration card to the man. He swiped the card then inked her hand with a glowing happy face. Cheryl handed over her card and stared at the pulsing mass of bodies inside the club, noticing that the men outnumbered the women four to one.

"Maybe we'll find you a boyfriend tonight," Cheryl yelled, catching up with Yvonne on her way to the bar.

Yvonne 's reply was lost in the buzzing hive as the cacophony of voices competed with the driving beat of the music.

As they stood in line, a young man in a black t-shirt, peppered with lint and dandruff that glowed bright white, tapped Yvonne on the shoulder. He handed her a glass filled with a fluorescent blue liquid. "It's ladies' night tonight. They're on the house."

Yvonne took the drink and held it in front of her eyes, staring at it with a bemused grimace. "What makes it glow?"

"It's the quinine in the tonic water," he said. "It fluoresces in ultraviolet light." Then, he disappeared into the sea of writhing bodies.

"I don't know where the heck the safari runners got the tonic water and all this other stuff, but I'm diggin' it!" Yvonne took a sip of the drink. "Ooh…this is so good!" It tastes like blueberry syrup. "You should try it." She handed her glass out to Cheryl.

"No thanks."

"What? You're not drinking? What the heck are we here for then? You could've stayed home, moping in your room."

"I just don't want any. I've got patrol duty in the morning."

"But, they're free…" Yvonne taunted.

"Nothing's ever free," Cheryl muttered. "Especially not in a place like this." She looked away, her eyes starting to scan the crowd, looking for the
hoochie mama
who was dishing out something more than haircuts earlier that day. She didn't know what she was going to do if she found Mark here with her, but whatever happened…it certainly wouldn't be pleasant.

"I can't sit still with this music. I got the fever…" She took another sip of her drink, her body swaying with the music. She grabbed Cheryl's hand. "Dance with me?"

"Uhh…no. This is too
Alice in Wonderland
for me. I can't dance to this stuff. How about we just walk around for now?"

Yvonne gave her a sneer then they began to circle the dance floor. Starting to dance as they walked, she swiveled her hips back and forth, and they'd only gotten a few yards before her saunter enticed a man who pulled her onto the dance floor. Cheryl watched as the two of them joined the darkened square in the center of the room, a mesmerizing swirl of bright-colored glow sticks and bright white teeth.

She continued walking, weaving in and out of groups, trying to avoid the occasional splash from a cup when the dancing spilled off the dance floor. There were plenty of faces that she recognized here, both military and civilian, but none that she could put a name to. She didn't mind, because she hadn't come to socialize. Yvonne was enough. She was chatty enough for ten friends. In the meantime, Cheryl would be a content wallflower. She was searching for a shadowy corner to hunker down in when she felt a tug on her hair from behind. Turning, she saw a man with bulging eyes and a Humpty Dumpty oval head.

"Wanna dance?"

"No thanks."

He scowled at her then drifted away.

Hoping to get a little breathing space, she moved towards an empty table near the bar. She hadn't been sitting for more than a minute when a man with a cowboy mustache and a glowing white baseball cap propped his elbow on the table and held one of the glowing blue drinks out to her. "How about a drink, beautiful?"

She shook her head, and he moved on, looking for another taker.

A moment later, she went to the bar and asked for a glass of water, hoping that having a cup in her hand would discourage any other offers. Then, she returned to the table and watched the dance floor. It took several minutes to spot Yvonne, but she finally found her in the mass of writhing bodies. She was gyrating with the rest of them, and more than once, draped her arm over her partner's shoulders, doing an obscene grind on his leg. Although Cheryl only had a superficial friendship with her, she felt she knew her well enough to know that it wasn't like her to be anywhere near that
friendly
with a stranger. And it didn't seem possible that she had had enough to drink to make her be so uninhibited. Cheryl sucked in her breath, hoping that the glowing drink hadn't been spiked with Ecstasy or some other type of drug.

After her eyes played across the room for the hundredth time, she came to a comforting conclusion:
Mark's not here. He's playing poker with the guys…just like he said.
The reassurance set the wheels of her mind in motion. She wondered if it was time to put a little more pressure on him—not an ultimatum, but a gentle nudge that would help him to envision building a future together, instead of just coasting in survival mode each day with no plans at all for tomorrow. Then, she remembered how dire things looked during the attack yesterday morning, and gave herself a mental kick in the ribs. Stupid
head in the clouds
dreams still weren't going to change the fact that they were lucky to live to see each and every dawn.

Survival.

That's still what it was all about. Until, the world was a safer place, it was ridiculous to make any plans at all.

Now that she'd satisfied her quest, it was tempting to bail out of the club. She tried to find Yvonne again and finally spotted her twirling in the center of the dance floor. Since she seemed to be having so much fun, Cheryl decided to remain a while longer. She watched the vibrating crowd, slumped over her cup of water, nursing it in tiny sips like it was filled with the world's finest wine instead of reclaimed water that would probably had that reddish tinge if it was viewed in brighter light.

Every few minutes, another guy came by to ask her to dance or to push a blue drink on her. She declined all of them, even one that was so pushy, he tried to yank her out of her seat towards the dance floor. She had to yell at him to
fuck off
before he shouted back even worse obscenities and gave up. He flipped her off as he melded back into the crowd like a foul mist retreating into the swamp.

After that uncomfortable incident, she really started to think about leaving. Unable to see the time on her watch, she waited for Yvonne to emerge from the dance floor orgy and hoped that she'd have danced herself out by now, so she could escort her safely back to her room then crash in her own.

A young woman, skinny like a twig, with a mop of frizzy hair approached the table. She tottered on heels far too tall for even a sober woman to walk a straight line, and Cheryl noticed the shiny silver watch on her hand. Since she'd just realized that her own watch had stopped working, she tapped the woman's wrist before she passed the table. "Do you know what time it is?"

The woman stopped and looked at her with doe-like, glassy eyes, then looked up at the ceiling as if she'd heard a strange howl echoing in the wind, instead of a direct question.

"The time?" Cheryl asked again.

There was a second of clarity before the woman looked down at her watch then shouted straight ahead as if talking to herself.
"Almost midnight."
Then, she slipped away, vanishing like she'd just stepped into some sort of portal that had appeared like a slit in the fabric of the revelry.

Was it possible that the club was even more crowded now?
The dancing had spilled out from the dance floor. Her isolated table began to feel claustrophobic as bodies began to pulse around her, swinging butts and flailing arms threatened to topple it with every gyration and swoop.

She edged her chair back closer to the wall, hesitating before standing up and making a formal declaration to escape. After a man's knee jostled the table, tipping the rest of her water into her lap, she decided she'd had enough. The club didn't close for another two hours, and there was no way she was going to last that long without curling up in a corner and falling asleep.

It was time to find Yvonne.

If she didn't want to leave, Cheryl decided to tell her that she wasn't feeling well. Then, if Yvonne still insisted on staying…
and possibly hooking up with someone
…well…that would be her decision.

Cheryl shoved her way towards the dance floor as the next song started. It began with a steady rhythm, a tribal drum beat. ONE—two—three—four—ONE—two—three—four—

A strobe light kicked on, flicking on and off along with the beat. Every second became a freeze frame, a flash of frozen movement before the next slice of film.

Something wet splashed her cheek. As she turned to her side, ready to scold the sloppy drinker,
she realized
something wasn't right.

The party was getting way out of control.

It wasn't just a little wild—it was turning into chaos. People were pushing and shoving, and standing on table tops, waving their arms in a mad frenzy. Their extreme dance moves were turning violent and obnoxious as people didn’t seem to care who they bumped into.

Cheryl righted a toppled chair and stood on it to scan for Yvonne. Once she had the higher perch, she was distracted by a sight on the far right side of the dance floor where some people were thrashing around like they were having epileptic fits. 

Then there were screams—

There was a spreading pool of blood on the floor just a few feet away.

It came from a pretzel twist of two bodies—a wraith-like man hunched over another figure, one that just seconds ago looked like he was doing some sort of vulgar grind against the cement. The figure on top with the balding head ringed by a cascade of stringy hair looked up at her. His opaque eyes and teeth glowed in the black light. A grinning skull with blood dripping down his chin, it looked like the face of a demon.

She took a step backward and fell off the chair.

Elbows and knees slammed into her head as she scrambled to get back to her feet. Once she did, it was hard to stay upright, because she was shoved from all directions. Some of the jostling came from people that were still dancing, oblivious to the dangers around them, while others were flailing about because they were starting to panic.

She turned in circles.
How many? Where are they? Why hadn't anyone stopped the music and sounded the alarm?

Her mind clicked into survival mode as she pulled out her knife, forced her way back to the chair, and struggled to get back on it, despite the raging sea of bodies rocking the legs. Back on top, she no longer registered the sound of music over the pandemonium, though she could feel the beat of the drums rattling her bones. Everything she saw was in a series of flashes.

It was hard to tell the zoned-out dancers from the people who were panicking, and those who were attacking, but it was obvious that the room had become a gore fest. The floor was slippery with black trails and there were swaths of blood arcing across the walls. People fell, screaming, laughing, terrified…bottlenecking the exits. No one could get to the alarm button next to the fire extinguisher as more undead poured in through the front door, causing partygoers to fall back.

Think, Cheryl. Think!

There were no guns allowed in the club room. The rule was created in an effort to prevent the deadly mix of alcohol and firepower.
But, surely, the staff had guns?

What staff?

She saw the bouncer sprawled out next to the entrance, his legs twitching as an Eater feasted on one of his biceps and another one worked on his neck. The bartender was no longer behind his booth, and the DJ had abandoned his turntables.

No staff. No Yvonne.

There was no time to worry about any of them now. It was just time to get out—by any means possible. Because, if anyone did come to the club with guns to rescue them, they might just start firing into the crowd. Or, they could decide to seal off the room or entire wing. She'd seen it happen somewhere before, and had gotten out just before the torches lit the place on fire, damning everyone inside.

God, she wished she could find Yvonne…

She clutched the knife and hopped off the chair into the melee.