Z Children (Book 1): Awakening (12 page)

It was one of
those things Sherry had described. Young, no more than 5, with short espresso
curls that made the boy decidedly feminine. If the ‘boy’ could be called pretty
as it crouched on all fours, its pale arms trembling with anticipation, and
drool dripping from its mouth. A piece of bloody human cartilage hung from
between two of the boy’s teeth; it lolled back and forth like the pendulum of a
very bloody and disturbing clock. My stomach churned, realizing I wasn’t going
to be craving red meat anytime soon. More reason to have opted for the big,
fattening burger at the hotel. You live, you learn.

Mierda. I don’t
want to kill a damn niño.
I crouched down, mimicking the ‘child’s’ position,
and rocked and forth from left to right heel. I kept the baton at the ready,
hoping it would lunge and I could drive the hard shaft deep into its creepy ass
head. I was too afraid to make the first move. Better to be on the defense and
see how the boy… it… whatever the hell it was… reacted. Know your opponent,
understand him, and then crush him. Those were the rules. All I knew right now
– from Sherry’s stories and seeing the messed up mother in the master – was
that if I got bit, I was dead.
So don’t get bit.
I almost laughed.
Muchas
Gracias, Captain Obvious. You’re a big damn help.

I studied the…
it. It was waiting for something… but what? Originally, I’d seen the movement
in the far distance, at least a mile, and it had covered that distance across
the desert in a matter of minutes. And then it had dodged my first strike with
absolute ease. So it was fast, faster than me. But now it just crouched there
waiting, its little chest heaving in anticipation. But in anticipation of what?
Maybe it could think, maybe it could assess risk and it was afraid of me and
the ASP. I don’t know which worried me more- that it might be a mindless
killing machine, or that it might be intelligent and capable of strategy. Intelligent.
Intelligence paired with efficiency was far deadlier than instinct paired with
efficiency. An instinctual killer I could handle.

Something that I
couldn’t put my finger on. It wasn’t being cautious; it wasn’t sizing me up. It
was like it was waiting… keeping me occupied.

Until it had
support.

Hijo de Pu…

I was cut off
mid-mental-curse as a second ‘child’ appeared behind me. Her curls were longer,
but just as black. This time, I put fear aside and reacted on instinct. This
child was obviously older, maybe stronger, maybe faster. I kicked out, my boot
catching her in the sternum. The crack was audible and I whirled without
waiting to see her fall. The ASP was now sailing through the air, creating a
vicious arc towards the brother’s head.

He was faster,
yet again. His body bolted away from the RV, toward the vultures- they
scattered toward the sky, screeching in surprise. I hazarded a glance behind.
The ‘girl’ was already getting to her feet, her face screwed up in angry lines,
frozen in a primal scream. She did not hold her chest, did not act as if I’d
damaged her body. I knew I had though. The force behind my side kick was enough
to bruise a grown man’s ribs, let alone a child’s.

Mad-dashing to
the RV door, baton firmly in hand, I heard both of my attackers yell in chorus.
I had to reduce their advantage. In the open, they could come at me from two
sides, make me screw up. If I could get back inside the RV without getting bit
on the ass, then I could make them come at me head on. Then those little animals
would understand the meaning of real steel.
 

It was barely a
minute before the doorway was shadowed by two figures. The pieces were so clear
now, the puzzle put together and mocking me.  That little bastard had been
waiting for its sister. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer, evaluation time was
over, thinking time was over and, in the words of my favorite superhero, it was
“clobbering time”. With every ounce of speed, strength, and training I could
muster, I went on the offensive. The baton was like a lightning rod in my hand,
striking over and over; its only mission was to damage, to destroy.
Stick-fighting was part of my discipline and the ASP was well-suited.

But these things
were fast, faster than a brush fire in the dead of summer. Incredibly, impossibly
fast, and the RV was close quarters, very close. I lashed-out and turned.
Struck and dodged. Time and time again, small, sharp teeth almost locked down
on me; their vile little mouths gnashed and drooled in anticipation. But I
still had the advantage; it was hard for both to attack at the same time.

My arms were
beginning to tire, lactic acid building up in the muscles until they screamed
at me to drop the ASP and just give the hell up. I was pinned in the kitchen
area, my back pressed firmly against the refrigerator. My pulse was too fast… I
could see it in their eyes, the way their lips crooked up at the corners in
satisfaction. They thought they had me. They thought they were going to eat
well today. The cockiness in their rabid, monster faces sent a new rush of
adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Hate to
disappoint you, bastardos, but Mendoza’s off the menu and the kitchen’s closed.
 I
pushed my body away from the fridge and heard a satisfying and wet crunch as
the tip of the ASP sunk into the skull of the little boy. I didn’t need to
study the results of my handiwork; I knew he was dead. I couldn’t slow down to
admire the slack-faced killer kid even if I wanted to; a pause would be the
perfect opportunity for the other curly-haired, miniature savage to take a bite
out of me.

The ‘girl’
looked puzzled at first, her eyes gazing at her brother’s inert form. I think
she actually understood what had happened- that her brother was dead. Maybe
there was some sibling connection that the disease couldn’t eliminate. She
looked from her brother to me and then back to the lifeless body on the RV
floor. The cry that loosed from her mouth was almost heartbreaking… if she
hadn’t decided the cry should accompany a bestial lunge for my throat.

 She was on
top of me quickly, her lunge sailing her across the small space separating us.
The ASP was between us; I held it in both hands and pushed her away with it,
but she kept launching forward, her teeth snapping and her snarls high-pitched
like a feral cat’s. Losing control was always a mistake. “Lose control, lose
the fight”. My first instructor had taught me that and it was my favorite
saying, something I shared at the start of every class.

This little kid
was about to receive her first and last lesson in losing control.

 Pushing
the girl away once again, with more force this time so that it took her longer
to recover and lunge back at me, I raised the baton and brought it down and up
and down again in two blindingly fast swings.  The first strike broke the
child’s neck in midair and as she sailed toward me. The second blow struck her
as she began to fall; it crushed into her head. Her body hit the ground near
her brother’s. Their wounds matched… and her arms were stretched out so that
her body formed a ‘t’ shape. I swallowed hard, fighting nausea, as I saw that
her small hand was cradled in her brother’s hand.

It. She. He.
Brother. Sister. Monster. Killer. Children. Zombies. Zombie Children.
What
had I done?
Niños. I’d killed niños. Freaking little kids.

They weren’t
kids though. I had to stop thinking of them as children… or I’d go crazy with
guilt.

Swallowing down
the bile and self-hate, I whispered. “Winner by a knockout. Welcome to the big
league, kids. Should have stuck to peewee football.” But I didn’t smile. I
didn’t feel any better. Their bodies were too small. And, despite once living
in a shit neighborhood overrun with drugs and guns, despite being once
impoverished and frequently having to beg for food, I’d never actually killed
anyone or anything to keep myself alive.

I looked around
and took in the havoc and gore in the RV. Crimson spatters on the walls, brain
matter on the floor, one busted cabinet hinge, a leaking kitchen faucet, broken
mirror, torn drapery, and miscellaneous bloodied personal effects.
Not too
bad
, I thought,
nothing that I can’t clean up
. I’d cleaned houses to
pay for my martial arts lessons, so there wasn’t much I couldn’t handle in the
way of stains and odors. Admittedly, the smell wafting up from the dead kids’
bodies was stronger than most household air pollutants- something like a cross
between sulfur, skunk, and fresh vomit.

 I stepped
outside the RV – the vultures had finally left for good – and I breathed in
fresh air greedily. Before striding away from the RV’s entrance, I took my time
studying my surroundings. I wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Now that I
couldn’t rationally deny the end of the world and its band of flesh-hungry
boogeymen, I planned on being ready. I glanced down at the baton, still in my
hand and coated in a layer of pungent, burgundy blood that was quickly turning
to pitch black.
You and me; we got this.
 Satisfied, I walked over
to the T-Bird where Sherry and Marty were still sound asleep. The T-birds’
engine was still purring like a kitten. Well, more like a fully grown tom cat.
It was another comfort to add to the ASP.

Looking  at
the classic car and then back at the motorhome, I made an executive decision.
As much as I liked Kyle’s car, the RV was going to win out. It was bigger,
safer, and had better range on a tank of gas. If we were headed for some
pie-in-the-sky hope of a boat in Corpus, then we were doing it my way. I smiled
to myself as I strolled back to our new home on wheels.

Just had to
evict one more occupant and do a little housekeeping. Easy-peasy,
lemon-squeezy. I also had to move the kids’ bodies. I didn’t want to take the
time to bury them, but I wasn’t sure I could drive away knowing I’d left them
to rot in the hot sun.

***

I’d buried the
two zombie children.

It had taken me an
hour and I hadn’t been able to dig very deeply into the firm ground. Maybe if
I’d had a shovel… but I hadn’t. So the best burial I could give was less than a
foot under and covered in a thin layer of soil and broken plant debris. Sherry
had woken up as I’d finished my work. When she’d walked over to me, we didn’t
speak to one another. The child-sized graves said it all. I believed her now.

We stood
side-by-side for several moments. Sherry closed her eyes, her lips moving
slightly as she murmured the Lord’s Prayer.

I cleared my
throat as soon as she’d finished her small offering to the dead children. “The
mother’s still in the RV. I’ve got to… get rid of her. Can you go back to the
car and wait with Marty. I’ll get you after I’ve finished and cleaned up.”

“I can’t help?”

“No, Mamacita.
Let me handle it.”

She nodded, her
eyes tightening around the edges as she read the sadness in my face. “You did
what you had to do, Juan. It’s hard. I know it is… I know it, because I’ve been
there. I killed that boy at the station. And it was…” Sherry’s voice broke and
her eyes watered.

I put my arm
around her shoulder. “You did what you had to do too.”

She nodded and
walked away from me without another word.

This world, the
world we now lived in; it was going to make killers and sinners of us all. Hell
on Earth and none of us were going to deserve a heaven.

The mother was
not going to be that big of a deal. I didn’t think so at least; the adults were
obviously different from the kids. They were lethargic and slow to react-
almost like they were waiting for instructions. In any case, clearing the
mother out wasn’t going to be near as hard as fighting her scary ass kids.

Stepping back up
the steps I noticed a dog leash hanging from a small silver hook by the RV
door. It was a long one with an attached, spiked collar that screamed ‘bully
breed’.  I snatched it, grabbing at the opportunity to act humanely… even
if it was directed towards a monster. Because I was tired of killing, even if
it was justified killing, it made me feel less human, more monster… a monster
like the very things I’d struck down lifeless.

If the ‘mother’
would let me just throw a loop around her neck and walk her into the desert I
would be happy. It wasn’t like I was leaving her to die, she was way past that.

Yanking the
accordion door open, I moved over to the bed where the mother sat swaying back
and forth, drool dripping from her hanging jaw.

“Alright, Madre,
are you going to play nice and let me put this on you?”

I really didn’t
expect a response, so the guttural rasp that escaped her lips made me almost
jump out of skin.

“Whoa, okay, if
you don’t want the leash on then follow me out of here. Come on. This way.” I
waved my hand toward my body and took a step back from the bedroom’s doorway.

I stumbled
backwards in surprise when the walking corpse got up and shambled towards me.
Not knowing if it wanted to eat me or if it was just doing what I asked, I
backed towards the entrance, dropped the leash on the RV floor, and stepped
into the hot sun.

To my surprise
the woman just kept following and soon we were a good quarter mile from the RV.
It was with an aching curiosity that I said goodbye to her.
She understood
me,
I mused,
and she followed me.
It was confusing to think that
this undead creature could have some semblance of self-awareness left. It was
disturbing… and now I began to feel like I really was leaving this thing to die
in the desert, to rot away, a lingering mind trapped inside of a desiccating
corpse.