Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.17
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 17
Date: 21 September, 2010
Disclaimer: Hmmm, characters, not mine, situation, mine, though with the proviso that certain scenarios owe a major debt of gratitude to George Romero. Sex? Likely. Genders involved? Likely all female (at least anything on camera). Also there are likely to be very bad things in this story. I'm not one for prodigious amounts of gore, but this is horror and there is likely to be ickiness and things that might disturb some folks. Seriously. If it's gonna bother you, move along.
Summary: When the dead rise, civilization falls.
Author's Notes: Awhile back, just for fun, I did a faux movie poster that set Otalia in a horror setting and used some elements from an idea I've had running around for ages (what can I say---it was the Halloween season). See the poster here: http://altfic.com/artgallery/otalia/glafterworld01b.htm . Sooo, at some point, it seemed like fun to take a gander at writing them in that universe. I've quite deliberately tried to break away from my usual style and make it a bit faster moving, with frequent chapter breaks, deliberate cliffhangers, shorter scenes and more directed pov. We'll see if I can keep to one pov per chapter (well, they are short chapters...lol).
Dedicated to: My mom. Seriously. All of my growing up years, she would constantly throw me these what-if scenarios and press me to figure out logical ways to survive/get out of various emergency situations. Now, she never mentioned the zombie apocalypse, but I'm sure that was just an oversight or a desire not to scare a little kid (because, really, I grew up as the daughter of a top secret type during the cold war...I already had enough fear issues), but really, that odd little game was the genesis of...well...not just this story, but a lot of my love of writing. So, thanks mom.
Previous Chapters: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 |
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 17
Natalia was on her feet in a heartbeat, silently cursing her stupidity in not retrieving the shotgun and praying she still had time. "Emma, when I'm through, you close the hallway door and lock it, and then the bedroom door. There's a lever on the inside...it'll slide metal bars in place." It would give her a double layer of protection should anything get through.
"But-"
"Don't open it unless I tell you..." She paused, hunting for a code word. "What's your favorite food, honey?"
"Pancakes."
"Okay, unless I say we're having pancakes for breakfast, you don't open that door. Understood?"
Emma nodded.
Another thump.
Loud enough for Emma to notice it this time. Her eyes widened, filling with fear. "Mom," she whimpered.
"Don't worry," Natalia soothed even as she backed out. "I'll lock her door...make sure nothing can get to her." Then she stepped through the door to the main room, pulling it shut in her wake. She heard the sound of the locks being engaged, then the bedroom door closing a second later.
Another thump, this time with a little rattle mixed in. Somebody was really working the latch. There were still locks that were engaged from the inside, but she didn't trust those to hold. They'd gotten through there before and while Josh had patched it, she knew he'd never trusted the patch to hold under too much pressure.
Moving fast, she grabbed the shotgun and the knife, then retrieved the harness that let her carry the shotgun across her back, quickly slinging it on and sheathing both weapons. A few more steps and she had the door to Olivia's room locked. Not that she had any great confidence it would hold if the dead got through, but she'd promised Emma and it was worth a try.
Besides, with luck it wouldn't be needed.
Not that luck had exactly been a great influence on her life of late. The lyrics from a song her father had liked suddenly ran through her head in a bluesy soundtrack to her emotions.
I been down since I begin to crawl.
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.
Pushing that thought off-depression was an indulgence she had no time for-she ducked around the block and tackle that raised and lowered the weighted trap door and easily found the metal kick plate that sat above the kitchen access to the attic stairs. A quick movement slid the metal plate aside, then she leaned down, peering through the narrow peephole. The kitchen was dim due to the shuttered windows and the fish-eye lens Josh had installed warped the view. Despite the difficulties, it was remarkably easy to recognize the stocky figure fumbling one-handed with the hidden attic door. There were a few others in the area with similar builds, but only one with an infant clutched to her shoulder in a warped mimicry of motherly love.
Damn.
Reva.
In life, she'd helped install the various security components around the house. In death, while she didn't precisely understand them, there was still enough sense of something that she went for the weak spots with unerring accuracy. Luckily, she and Josh both mostly stayed around their old home at Cross Creek, nearly a mile away, but with all the chaos, she must have come calling with the others.
Damn, damn, damn.
Natalia searched the area for Josh-he was usually somewhere near Reva-but didn't see any sign. More damaged, he didn't tend to be nearly as active as she was, so maybe he hadn't come.
But still... Not good odds. Which only made things that much more dangerous.
Which left Natalia with very little choice.
Reva had to be stopped before the door gave way. Letting her get into the stairwell could turn very bad, very quickly.
Unfortunately, there was nothing Natalia could do from the attic. She could see Reva through the peephole, but had no way to attack or even distract her from the door. Going down into the stairwell wasn't an option either. No way in hell she could open the door and do anything to Reva before Reva took her down and got into the attic.
In life, the woman might have been a bit slow, bordering on lumbering, but in death she was fast and hideously strong, even with only one hand free. She was also one of the more determined among the dead, not one who quickly wandered off. If she found a project to work on, she tended to focus she until she got what she wanted or something dramatic caught her attention.
Which meant Natalia needed something dramatic.
Like the bloody gear from the night before. Worried about the smell drawing unwanted attention, she'd double bagged it then tossed it aside, figuring she'd deal with it later.
Welcome to later.
Pushing a dormer window open, she tossed the bag out onto the slanted roof. Josh had installed a narrow walkway similar to a widow's walk along the horizontal sections of the roofline, along with vertical boards that ran high enough to shield anyone who crouched down from view. Normally, it made for a safe way to stand watch. Now it gave her a bit of cover as she crawled out and surveyed the area.
Not many in view and nobody close.
Thank god, there'd been time enough for the crowd to thin. No chance otherwise.
She heard Reva moving around inside. She was really digging at the door by the sound of things. She was just too strong and too determined. It wouldn't hold up long.
And if she got into the stairwell, she'd start working on the attic door. They'd never gotten into the attic and Natalia didn't intend to let it happen now. Not when she knew right where Reva would head next.
The room where she'd spent those last days with Colin before breaking.
Grabbing the bag, Natalia edged along until she reached the end of the boards. Unfortunately, the kitchen door was on the side of the house where the peaked roof meant no platform. She couldn't get very close, but could see well enough to reassure herself that the door was still on its hinges. Good. That offered more choices and hopefully more opportunities.
Digging through the bag, she came up with Olivia's bloody jeans and belt and quickly had them latched together. After a moment's though, she added her own belt for a little more length. It wasn't as long as she'd hoped for, but it would have to do.
It was probably the most unique fishing line and bait in the history of mankind, but it would have to do.
Dangling her arm over the side of the house, she flung the bloodied jeans into the breeze, waving them as close to the open door as possible. With luck, the smell would carry.
She was starting to lose hope when the rustling inside the house stopped. It began again after a moment, but the sound was different this time.
Then another moment of silence.
And another moment of odd noises.
Then the thudding rhythm of rushing footsteps.
Natalia hauled the jeans in no more than a second before Reva came roaring through the doorway, blank gaze wild, head turning this way and that as she searched for the source of the smell.
Grabbing Olivia's blood-drenched shirt from the bag, Natalia rolled into a hard bundle, then flung it high and hard. It sailed at least forty feet before unfurling and tumbling to the dirt.
Reva spun, twitching, her head jerking back and forth, body language tense, but showed no sign of seeing the bundle.
Damn. Too far.
The dead responded to sound and movement, but if something was small or didn't keep moving, often didn't seem to see it or relate it to anything. A bloody pile of rags didn't register even though the stench of blood had her sniffing around and looking for a target.
Natalia tried a blood-soaked towel next, rolling it into a rough ball. It was heavier and spongey-wet, and when she threw it, it tracked a less graceful course, flying straight without much arc. Her aim was good enough that it slapped Reva's cheek as it sailed by her.
That got her attention.
Reva spun away from the house and leapt, pouncing on the rag as it landed in a heap.
Crouching down, her movements were eerily familiar from any number of nature shows. A predator after prey. Reva grabbed the tattered cloth with a quick hand, drawing it to her mouth, sniffing, then gnawing at a bloody spot. Even as she chewed, her head and eyes tipped this way and that, still hunting.
They never stopped hunting.
Natalia grabbed another of the bloody towels, taking careful aim before flinging it. This time it sailed past Reva's left shoulder, close enough for her to scent the blood, then another few feet forward and to her left. She leapt on it almost the instant it hit the dirt, grabbing it up and gnawing even as she searched wildly around herself. As Natalia watched, Colin grabbed for a ragged corner of terry cloth, gripping it in tiny hands so he could chew on the wet fabric, his movements slow and uncoordinated.
It surprised her. Only a few weeks before he'd been screaming and clawing at everything he could reach from his mother's arms-including his mother. Not that it had been one-sided. They'd both nipped and chewed at each other and showed the effects of their constant clashes.
The odd thing was as far as Natalia could tell, Reva hadn't set him down for even a second since joining him. She'd held him and clawed at him and bit him more than once, and he'd done all that and more, screaming and kicking and clawing wildly, but they were always together.
Only now he was hardly moving at all.
Maybe even the dead eventually died.
Dear god, would Reva have to lose him again? Would that which had destroyed her as a human being hurt now or would she even notice? Natalia honestly didn't know which thought was more awful.
She shook those thoughts off. Tragic as it was, she had more immediate matters at hand.
Another bloody towel lobbed in the right direction drew Reva even farther from the door and closer to where Natalia wanted her. "Come on," she whispered under her breath as she watched the woman dive after the latest bit of temptation. It was the smell driving her, Natalia knew, the blood still fresh enough to trigger her hunger. They might prefer meat, but if all they could get was blood, they'd go for that too.
Another lob. The last of the towels. She was going to have to start slicing up the jeans next.
But before she had a chance, Reva did something utterly unexpected. Raising her head from her latest treat, she turned this way and that as she sniffed the air in a fashion that reminded Natalia of a bloodhound trying to catch a scent on a breeze.
Then suddenly she spun and leapt, covering at least twenty feet in a few bounding strides to pounce on the bloody shirt where it had landed. Natalia expected more of the gnawing and chewing, but instead Reva pulled at the fabric, sniffing it here and there as though hunting for something while paying almost no attention to the blood.
That wasn't normal. Natalia watched the display, fascinated by the oddness of it.
Still hunched over, but no longer crouched down, Reva did a slow turned, blank eyes sweeping the surroundings, her head jerking this way and that as though she was hearing something. Then suddenly she tipped her head back and screamed out a full, teeth-bearing roar. The shirt had been some kind of medium weight chambray, not the sort of thing that usually tore easily, but it shredded under wrenching hands.
A chill slid down Natalia's spine and she crouched down behind the thin shield of boards, instinctively making herself small and still.
Normally the dead were expressionless, their facial muscles mostly slack. And when there was some kind of expression, maybe it was her imagination, but it usually seemed to her like pain.
But this wasn't pain. Reva's features contorted into an expression of sheer rage and she did something totally unexpected.
She spoke, screamed really.
It wasn't clear, not the queen's English, but Natalia could make out the germ of intentional speech. The dead made small sounds now and then that were vaguely intelligible, a word here or there, mostly random, but occasionally mentions fear or hunger that seemed to Natalia to be an attempt at real expression.
But this...
Pure rage.
Reva's voice was louder than Natalia could remember hearing one of them, the sounds coming slow from somewhere deep in her chest.
"UUUUHHHHH...LLLlIIBBBB...YYYYUUUUHHHH!!!!"
There was something entirely too horrifying about the moment, something so wrong that Natalia didn't know what to do or think. She was half lying on the bag of clothing and discarded gear and she felt the shape of a pistol under her cheek. Even though she'd never fired one and probably couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, she grabbed for it, checking to see that the safety was off and feeling vaguely safer with it in hand.
And then the moment shattered as Remy came in fast, breaking from his regular path, just as Natalia had hoped. Drawn by the sound and commotion and smelling the blood, he dove for the shirt in Reva's hands, his only interest the bloody fabric. Clawing at him, Reva yanked it back in a possessive rage and suddenly the two were fighting, snapping at each other and clawing for possession of the few bits of blood-drenched fabric.
Now, while they were focused on each other was her only chance. She might only have moments before someone looked her way. And she was under no illusions as to what would happen then. They'd still be fighting.
To see which one got the biggest piece of her when she was subdivided.
Every instinct screamed run away, but she knew that if she couldn't get the kitchen door closed, Reva was likely to go right back to work, and maybe things wouldn't be so quiet then. Not after that roar. Yeah, that was definitely likely to bring more company.
And speaking of things that could turn very bad, very quickly.
Not letting herself debate any longer, Natalia stuffed the pistol in her waistband, grabbed the edge of the roof and swung herself over the side. Bars on the attic window made a decent ladder in a pinch, and she caught hold, then swung over and used that to lower herself to a narrow planter hung on a second floor window.
Reva and Remy were still fighting for possession of the bloody rags, Colin's tiny, angry screeches forming the background soundtrack for their back and forth battle.
Ignoring the swooping sense in her stomach, Natalia dropped to a crouch. Silently apologizing to the squashed tomato plants, she grabbed the edge of the planter, and dropped over the side. A moment's dead hang to zero out her momentum, then she dropped the remaining few feet to land surprisingly lightly on the thick, unmown grass.
Almost home.
Which of course meant something had to go wrong.
She was just straightening when she heard Reva's scream.
Directed her way this time...
* * * * * *
TBC
Postscript Author's Note: Okay, confession time. This is probably the blackest moment of comedy I will ever write. Seriously, I'm going to hell because I just couldn't resist the urge to let dead Reva go on carrying a grudge against Olivia (mind you, it will probably come into play later, so I can defend myself that it's a plot point), and I find it hilariously funny. Yes, I am that warped. But y'know, it made my beta reader giggle too, so when I go to hell, I'll at least have company. Anyhoo, I really thought I should mention this is the funny chapter...y'know, in case you didn't notice or felt guilty if you too were laughing and thinking you shouldn't. Bwahahaha!