The Human Wilderness (Prequel): Among the Monsters Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Among the Monsters

  Thanks For Reading

  About the Author

  AMONG THE MONSTERS

  S.H. Livernois

  Copyright © 2017 S.H. Livernois

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Rebecca had to steal a litter of kittens.

  The litter huddled beneath a blue, ramshackle single-wide on her grandparents' property, where they were born six weeks before. Their mama was a black-and-white barn cat her little sister Abby had named Oreo. It was a hot summer day in July, and she could hear the cat's babies mewling.

  "Can you go get them, Bec?" Abby had begged. "Please!"

  The sisters, ten and six, were spending the day with their grandparents. It was a beautiful, breezy afternoon, the sky above a hazy deep blue, the air buzzing with cicadas. In the green fields surrounding the house and trailer, Grandpa's cows huddled beneath the trees to escape the wet heat.

  Rebecca and Abby lazed on their grandmother's quilt beneath an oak tree, and Abby wouldn't stop talking about the kittens.

  "Listen to them, sissy!" she whined. "They want to be played with..."

  Rebecca giggled, but deep down she was afraid. The people who rented the single-wide from her grandparents weren't nice, and she didn't know if they were home. The space beneath the trailer was also dank and dark and dirty. But if Rebecca didn't crawl in after the kittens, Abby would do it herself. And she didn't want her sister to get hurt or in trouble.

  "All right, you pain in the neck," Rebecca said with a smile.

  She stood and gazed across the sun-dappled lawn at the trailer only a hundred feet away. In Rebecca's fright, she thought the distance looked like a mile. Abby beamed up at her, chubby cheeks bright red and a broad grin across her lips.

  "Go on, Bec."

  Rebecca stared at the black cavity beneath the trailer, her tummy fluttering with nerves. The shades in the window were drawn. Maybe the people inside couldn't see her, or they were sleeping.

  Rebecca clenched her fists, ground her teeth, and ran.

  Fear made her swift and nimble, and she raced across the lawn without stumbling, with no other thought but getting under the trailer unseen. She saw nothing but the black passageway, heard nothing but her breath and the mewling kittens.

  She dove into the subterranean world. For a breath, she lay on her tummy and got her bearings. Sunlight seeped in from underneath the skirting, illuminating an uneven, rocky stretch of ground. Its furthest reaches hid in darkness and Rebecca tried not to imagine what lived there.

  She crawled forward. The earth beneath her was cold and damp. Something scraped her leg, but she ignored it. Cobwebs raked her face and she suppressed a scream. The meowing grew louder. She clawed at the ground to pull herself along, rocks poking into her hips and stomach and chest, dirt packing beneath her fingernails.

  Pinpoints of light punched through the darkness — cat eyes. She crawled toward them, moving deeper underneath the trailer, farther away from her only exit. Rebecca pushed those frightening thoughts away.

  The kittens were nestled in a shallow depression in the ground, one mass of warm fur and beating hearts. She counted six bodies — three for each hand. Rebecca didn't want to make two trips.

  She turned her body around so she faced the distant opening, a bright oval of green cutting through the darkness. Above her, feet thudded across the floor and Rebecca froze, her heart stuck in her throat, her skin coated in goosebumps.

  She had to hurry.

  Rebecca grabbed each kitten by the scruff of the neck, bunching their fur together in her right hand. Resting on her tummy, Rebecca clasped the other three with her left. They writhed and yowled and hissed, the chorus of angry sounds scratching at her brain, but she held on. The stranger moved to the front of the trailer, toward Rebecca's exit.

  Rebecca focused on the bright, sunny opening, hoping she could reach it before the stranger above could look out the window. She pushed herself along with her feet and elbows, trying not to think of the footsteps thudding, then stopping, then thudding above her.

  Rocks cut into Rebecca's skin. Her knees and stomach and elbows burned from scraping the cold earth. The kittens squirmed in her hands, practically screaming to be freed, but Rebecca gripped their scruff like a vice.

  Then she felt sunlight and warmth on her skin.

  She pushed her body out of the opening, a shard of skirting raking her spine, and tumbled onto the warm grass. In the distance, Abby squealed. Rebecca looked across the lawn to find her little sister on her feet, hopping and clapping her hands.

  Dazed from the sunlight, breathless from her underground journey, Rebecca stood shakily and adjusted her fingers on the kittens' scruff. She heard a noise, like the sound of blinds being drawn back, and a jolt of jittery fear shot through her body.

  She bolted across the lawn toward her sister, the kittens jostling in her hands Abby hopped and clapped and giggled.

  "Way to go, Bec!" she cried.

  Rebecca dropped the kittens on the quilt and they clumsily tumbled over each other, meowing and gazing at their new surroundings. Rebecca fell on the blanket beside them, exhausted, and glanced back at the trailer: the shades in the window were still drawn. She'd had no reason to be afraid and now, in bright sunlight and safety, felt foolish.

  Abby was giggling. Six kittens hobbled across the quilt and she tried to corral them into a circular space she made with her splayed legs. She played with them all afternoon, naming each one according to its color. Ginger, Blackie, Storm, Oreo Jr...

  The names of the other two kittens eluded her, but Rebecca hadn't visited that memory in years. Not since the Fall three years before, when her family vanished and the world crumbled around her. But now, tied up in the dark, Rebecca could only think of her family and replay half-forgotten memories.

  She'd be reunited with them soon.

  She sat on a hard wood floor, leaning against something soft reeking of dust and mildew. Rough rope encircled her wrists and ankles and she hugged her knees to her chest, her long, lean body folded in a taut ball.

  Footsteps thudded across the wood floor in the next room. There were two men: the one who tied her up outside the walls of her settlement, and the one waiting for her at this house a few miles away — the furthest she'd been from home in two years.

  They spoke with voices like simmering thunder.

  "We don't have enough wood to get through the night," one of them said.

  "It'll have to do," the other answered. Rebecca noticed a tinge of an accent in the man's voice — English, or Australian, perhaps. He bent over the fire to stoke the flames. "I'm not going out there in the dark to collect firewood."

  Rebecca was in awe: two new faces, three counting the woman. Where did these strangers come from? She had gazed at the landscape beyond her home many times, searching for life, only to hear the howls of Parasites. Slowly, she had accepted a grim truth: she and the fifty souls in Hosmer were the only survivors.

  Had Rebecca slipped into a dream? One minute, she believed the world outside her shelter was dead and empty. The next, these strangers appeared out of the wilderness very much alive.

  An orange glow flickered dully, then burst into a bright blaze. Rebecca peered through the crack of the open door with heavy-lidded eyes, her strong black eyebrows knotted. The men stood on either side of
a brick fireplace, one stocky, slope-shouldered, and thick-bodied, the other lithe and tall.

  Where was Martha? The one who had appeared at Hosmer's gate three days before. She’d said Rebecca's family was out there. Had helped Rebecca climb over the wall to the other side. Rebecca had so many questions for the old woman, about her family and how they'd survived. The bond of blood was like no other — intimate, visceral, spiritual. Hosmer had been a poor substitute.

  Eager and restless for answers, Rebecca started loosening the ropes around her wrists, her silken black hair rippling as she writhed against her binds. The stocky man tossed a log into the fire and disappeared from view; she heard him sit down in a chair with a deep groan. The second man propped an arm on the mantle and seemed to stare at the flames.

  In the next room, firewood crackled and snapped as the flames grew. Their orange glow crawled inside Rebecca's lonely room. Its unfamiliar shapes pulsed as the light limned their edges and retreated: a chest of drawers, a nightstand, a vanity, all of it white with dust. Two small windows were barred with plywood to keep out the Parasites, the primal, infectious humans who'd taken over the world. Rebecca listened for their keening screams, but heard none as the wind seeped into the cracks of the house with a tinny whistle.

  Another set of footsteps — these ones light — creaked across the floor. A smaller figure appeared, silhouetted against the blazing fire.

  Excitement chased away Rebecca's irritation. It was Martha. The one who gave the orders, the one with the grandmotherly smile who told Rebecca her brother and sister were waiting for her. How could this kindly woman know Rebecca had a brother and sister if it weren't true?

  Rebecca loosened the rope around her wrists.

  "I found some venison jerky and canned beets in the store cupboard," the woman said. "We'll need to resupply it next trip."

  "Beets?" said the man with the accent. "I'll try to remember that when my shit's blood red in the morning." He laughed at his own joke.

  "Don't be so vulgar, August," the woman snapped. She paused. "Where are they?"

  "Next room."

  "They won't join us?"

  "They're tied up, Martha." August spoke slow, as if she were a child.

  "I told you to untie them." Martha's voice was soft, but in her anger, it hissed like a tea kettle.

  In the semi-dark, Rebecca smiled with a bloom of affection and trust for the old woman. The effect on her pale, chiseled face was to make it look even younger than her mere sixteen years.

  "We both have our jobs, Martha," said the man called August. "Yours is to get them outside, ours is to make sure they arrive at our destination safely."

  "Your methods are barbaric. They won't trust us if—"

  "To hell with trust. I have a mission to complete."

  "So do I." Martha disappeared from Rebecca's view; a cushion breathed as the woman sat down. "The Savior will not be happy if these girls are mistreated, August."

  The Savior? The population outside Hosmer's walls now grew to four, and Rebecca was astonished. These strangers and their mysterious Savior must live in their own settlement, somewhere in the wilderness. Another island of life amid a dead landscape. A thousand questions vibrated inside Rebecca like a swarm of insects. She loosened her rope enough to begin slipping her hand through.

  "Maybe so." A chair creaked and August's face emerged, chin and nose peeking out from the hard black line of the door. "But he'll also be happy with results. You forget that I've known him since the beginning." The face retreated.

  Martha hummed. "But I know him best. And you'd do well to remember that he put me in charge, not you. There's no need to tie them up. Where on Earth would they go? Out there, with them?"

  "They could still escape..." August grumbled.

  "You're only frightening them. And they have nothing to be frightened of."

  "Clearly you're far more trusting than I am."

  "Enough. You will do as I say. You can argue with the Savior when we get home, but I dare say he'll agree with me."

  Silence fell, punctuated by the crackling of logs in the fire.

  "This little spat notwithstanding, I would say we did pretty well for our first time," August said.

  Martha cleared her throat. "I agree."

  "Any problems inside?"

  "No. The girls seemed of little concern to anyone. We weren't seen scaling the walls."

  Little concern. Rebecca ignored a twinge of sadness, but it was true. She wasn't good with people, and they could tell, deeming her strange and cold. The weird kid on the playground whom the other kids picked on or avoided.

  That didn't matter now. She remembered Martha's kind blue eyes the night before, twinkling with something Rebecca hadn't seen in years: concern and understanding.

  Your family is waiting for you, my dear.

  A dark shadow retreated from Rebecca's heart. Warmth took its place.

  "Good," August said.

  The other man leaned over the fire and tossed in another log. He turned to face Rebecca's room, propping his hands on his slender hips. He was young and bearded, with a long, thin nose; his eyes hid in pools of shadow, but Rebecca felt him staring. She shivered, but her fury was stronger. She knew what men wanted from young girls when no one was watching.

  Rebecca wrenched her wrists harder and one hand came loose.

  "Now's the matter of Hyattsville." August's voice was followed by the sound of paper rustling. "I say we cut west, around the White Oak River. East is quicker, but too risky. Last Jonah knew, Barton was crawling with those infected bastards. That right, my man?"

  Jonah, who'd since vanished from Rebecca's sight, grunted from somewhere in the room.

  "You'll add two days to the journey with this route," Martha said.

  August sighed. "Again, I have my job and you have yours."

  Hyattsville. Rebecca had gone to school there, sat in the bleachers watching basketball games and in the auditorium for Abby's piano recitals. Rebecca closed her eyes and saw her sister's little fingers dancing across the keys. Abby smiling as six kittens chased her around the yard. Rebecca imagined her in school that day three years ago, alone.

  Maybe she and Gabe never left.

  A panicked excitement rushed through Rebecca's blood, injecting her with energy. She frantically pulled her hand through the rope and it cinched her fingers, raking the skin until it burned. With a violent jerk, it came free; she untied her other hand, then her ankles. She stood and took a step to the door, but a voice stopped her.

  "Is that where my mom is?" said a small voice.

  Ruby. She'd almost forgotten about her; the girl had been so quiet where she lay on the dusty bed Rebecca had been leaning against. Light picked out the familiar shapes of her childish face — the green marble eyes, wide mouth, straw hair. Back in Hosmer, Rebecca tutored the girl in school. She was Abby's age.

  "That's what I'm going to find out." Rebecca crossed to the bed and quickly untied Ruby's skinny arms and legs, then rushed to the door.

  For a moment, the trio didn't notice her standing there. She had a moment to study their faces: the square, shapeless Martha with her steel-gray hair and soft face, and August, with his thick shoulders and sausage fingers, the fat, whiskered face. They sat across from each other in chairs set on either side of the fireplace, while Jonah swayed in a rocking chair beyond the firelight, his lanky legs crossed. He caught Rebecca's eye but said nothing.

  She stepped further into the room. The floor creaked. Martha and August flinched.

  "Well, hello there, pretty lady," August said.

  Rebecca turned to Martha. "Our families are in Hyattsville?"

  August's eyes grazed the length of Rebecca's tall, slender body. She cringed and anger throbbed hard in her chest. She swallowed it.

  "I told you there was no point tying them up. This one's obviously far smarter than you are." Martha smiled, her small gray eyes crinkling pleasantly. Rebecca beamed at the compliment. "Don't you worry, my precious girl. We're on o
ur way to an amazing place where they're waiting for you. I promise you won't be disappointed."

  Ruby was suddenly hugging Rebecca's waist; the girl was half her height, though she was only four years younger. No one liked her in Hosmer, just like Rebecca; they called her a lost cause. The girl needed her mother. Abby needed her big sister.

  "That doesn't answer my question," Rebecca said. Hesitantly, she put a hand on Ruby's shoulder.

  Something flashed across Martha's face, but she suppressed it with another kindly smile. In the shadows, the rocking chair creaked as Jonah leaned forward. The light revealed his eyes: deep set, narrowed, burning. His pillowy lips sunk in a frown.

  Martha stood and crossed to Rebecca's side, smiling kindly. "All your questions will soon be answered, my dear." She took Rebecca's hand, her palm soft and damp. "Now let's get you two something to eat."

  In the early days of the Fall, Rebecca had figured out how to hide from the infected.

  She was barricaded in a doctor's office with a dozen other survivors. The door and front windows were barred, and late one night, Rebecca peered through a slit in the boards at the scene outside.

  The street was lit by a half moon. Dozens of infected prowled the street, grunting and howling, craning their heads back to screech at the sky. Rebecca studied them for hours.

  She noticed how they broke off into groups, like packs of animals. Worked together. Sniffed the air and grew hysterical when they caught a scent. Raced after their invisible quarry. Pounded on locked doors and shuttered windows.

  And, with horror, Rebecca saw the infected crawl inside homes and buildings and pull out the people hiding inside to infect them. They turned in seconds, and the pack welcomed their new member. Together, they prowled further down the street in search of more prey.

  They were hunting the healthy.

  Rebecca watched this until the Parasites' numbers grew. Until one of them peered through the slit in the boards and found her. She stared into a dead man's eyes.

  A faint life flickered there, like a dying light bulb. Rebecca found no personality, soul, or emotion in the hard, mean stare, just manic lust and rage. She knew what it meant: the person inside was gone. Only their shell remained.