Guide to Surviving, chapter six (previously zombies and werewolves) (Patreon)

Stella regretted her decision to come along on this trip. Sorta. Her leg throbbed with every step and she had already bled through the bandage and now her shoe was sticky from the slow trickle of blood down her leg. She definitely needed new shoes. Maybe she could raid Sunny Delacore’s house. They used to share shoes in school. So, that part was bad. Very bad. Monumentally and painfully bad with a side of more bad.

However, if Alicia was telling the truth and she was developing an infection, she needed to talk someone into sharing medicine. There were plenty of survivors in town. Mr. Anderson had gone from the high school science teacher to a vicious loner who used his crossbow to shoot anyone who came near. He’d been detention-happy and a bit of a dick, but the zombie apocalypse had brought out the worst in him. Mrs. Dawson was old, cranky, and likely to throw pans at anyone who came near, which would not be that much of a problem except the crash of metal against the pavement always brought zombies running like she had rung a dinner bell. And the Lindens never opened the door. Stella only caught glances of them as the curtains moved in their boarded-up windows, but they’d turned into ghosts.

The Lily twins wandered in and out of the west side of town. She suspected they had some sort of farm or cabin back in the woods, which would explain why she only rarely saw them. There used to be three of them who traveled together but the younger Lily brother now shambled around down by the high school. The two girls seemed like the sort who were smart enough to hang onto antibiotics and not stupidly waste them on people who were too grievously wounded to have any hope of surviving. Not that Stella regretted it, but she mourned her lost stash a little. Anyway, Stella doubted they would be able to find the Lilys.

The local high school was a complete no-go zone. The group there would have antibiotics, but they were the same sort of survivors that her and Alicia had just escaped in the woods. She suspected that they were the reason that some of the other survivors had joined the brainless dead. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that Roger Lily haunted the place and when the Dearing family disappeared, the father and two older brothers showed up on the street a block down. The Dearing mother, three daughters, and the little boy never had shown up again.

Sometimes Stella wanted to go over there and burn the high school down with all those assholes in it, but she didn't have the power to stop them. Besides, she feared that if she ever started burning assholes to the ground, she wouldn’t be able to stop. “Serial killer” didn’t look good on the resume. So she avoided the high school and ran like hell whenever she saw one of the guys who made that their home base. That brought them to Stella best and—realistically—only hope. The Scrappy family. They’d shown up after the blockades and quarantines had failed back when there were a lot more zombies around. They’d somehow carved out a spot using the old strip mall off Cole Avenue.

The first time Stella had seen hundreds of zombies pressed against the security gates of the old Sears store, she thought the family was pinned down and not long for the world. However, the zombies had dispersed, and they had set up their own little farmstead behind the solid iron fencing. They were the sort of survivors who would know the value of medicine, especially since they had kids in there. Families with kids rarely lasted long.

Alicia gave Stella some on-point side eye. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I'm fine.” Stella hated it when people underestimated her. Yes, she was in horrific pain, but that was better than being dead.

“You should wait on the edge of town. There are zombies around,” Alicia said quietly.

“No duh. I've lived here my whole life. I know where there are zombies, and I could probably tell you the names of at least fifty percent of them.” Stella used to talk to the zombies, greeting them by name in whispers as she crept past. Good morning, Mrs. Myers. How’s your son, she would breath so softly that the zombie wouldn’t hear her. She’d grown tired of the game.

“I don't think it’s relevant whether you know them. You’re not going to be able to move fast enough. You should climb one of these trees and wait for me to get back.”

Stella did her best to imitate Alicia's eyebrow game as she glared at her. “Did you miss the first three times when I explained that people are not going to talk to you? If I believe that we need antibiotics, and I am giving you the benefit of the doubt on that one—”

“Gee, thanks. However will I ever thank you for believing me when I tell you that you're going to die if you don't take care of yourself?” Considering that Alicia kept her voice zombie-soft, she really could pack the sarcasm in.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an attitude?”

“Funny enough, before the zombie apocalypse I was just a sweetheart. My teachers nominated me for Miss Congeniality.”

“You’re not going to win it now,” Stella said. “Our best bet is a group that's on the near side of town. I call them the Scrappy family but I don’t know their real names. I just know they’re our best bet.”

“Our best bet is a group who you don’t even know by name?” Alicia was judging. Her eyebrows practically screamed a certain disdain. Worse, her eyebrows had a point. Still, the Scrappy family was their best hope. If that didn’t work, maybe they could raid the old Miles place. Abe Miles had been a hoarder way back, so he might have some around, although other survivors had probably stripped his place already.

“I never needed to make contact before. But they’re better than most with this survival game, so I think they’re the best bet.”

“Define better.”

“Better as in not dead. That seems pretty damn successful.” Something rustled in the undergrowth, and Stella froze.

Alicia slipped her hand under Stella’s arm, but a half second later she sighed and offered a quiet, “Feral cat.” She pulled free and stretched her neck first one direction and then the other like a fighter getting ready for the prize fight. “You know, using your definition, any survivor is successful because they’re alive. By that definition, you’re a raging success story.” Alicia’s look made it clear she doubted that conclusion.

“Excuse you. I'm fucking brilliant.”

“I’m alive, and I’m not.” Alicia’s voice lacked any humor, and the statement sucked all the air from Stella’s body. Of course, they weren’t brilliant. Stella doubted they were even remotely capable of dealing with life. However, they were supposed to ignore the obvious reality in favor of faking competence. She frankly resented Alicia’s unwillingness to go along with that obvious rule. Don’t shout around zombies, don’t trust strangers, and don’t point out the cracks in your own or others’ psyches. Obvious. Duh.

Maybe Alicia realized her faux pax because she held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I happen to think you’re doing great for a human. But humans weren’t built for the apocalypse. Werewolves have claws, selkies can escape into the water, banshees can scream away the danger, and thunderbirds… well, they’re thunderbirds. But what do people have other than an ability to breed in terrifying numbers.”

“Wait. Those things are real? Selkies? Thunderbirds?”

“Zombies and werewolves are real. Why shouldn’t other things be?” Alicia sat on a fallen tree and held out a hand to help Stella over the obstacle. Stella wanted to push the hand away and prove that she had skills other than breeding, but she was afraid she would fall on her face. The pain was nauseating.

“I don’t know. I guess I figured if any of those were real, people would have found pictures or captured one or brought back the skin or something.”

Alicia froze when Stella was halfway over the tree. Stella glanced over to find a look of homicidal rage on her face. “I didn’t say people should capture or kill one. I thought they would have.”

Alicia twitched.

“On the good side, so many people are dead that taking time to hunt down Bigfoot seems kinda pointless now.” Stella waded through the branches on the far side of the trunk. Out of habit, she checked her climbing trees. If she had to go up a rope, she was going to vomit from pain, but that beat getting caught. “Hey, the Scrappy family is about the only group that I have never seen lose someone to the zombies, and they have this weird talent. They always know when it’s going to rain. I wait to put out jerky until I see them skinning their rabbits and drying the meat. Their jerky lines never get rained on and ruined. That’s why I went hunting yesterday—I saw they had put out their meat. Could they be supernatural?”

“There’s nothing supernatural about me. Werewolves and other species have always been part of this world. We’re not ‘super’ anything. We’re natural.”

Stella barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Yes, the wording had been questionable, but she was in pain and needed real information. She didn’t need a lecture on respecting other cultures. “I apologize. I’ll rephrase it. I wonder if they’re something other than human.” That was just clunky. However, if Alicia didn’t want to use the term supernatural, Stella would do her best to avoid the absolutely obvious term.

“I wish I had my grandmother's library. If there's a species that has a connection with weather patterns, she would have a book on it.”

Alicia grew quiet, and Stella didn't need supernatural powers to know what she was thinking about. No one had come out of this disaster unscathed, probably not even the Scrappy family. They both were quiet after that, which was good since they were approaching town. Stella pointed in the direction of the old mall and let Alicia scout ahead. Stella had offered a knife, but Alicia had held out her hand and flexed so that five black claws popped out. Then she darted off in the direction of the Scrappy family.

The old sign listing store names still stood, but only “Old-Timey Ice Cream” had survived the mayhem of the riots and protests early in the government quarantine. Stella’s mother had watched on television as protestors threw rocks and shot at the sign while the police stood back. She had clucked and repeated the word “Disgraceful” over and over. Stella had complained that the mall would never reopen if rioters did too much damage, and there wasn’t anything else to do in town. Sure, kids went out to the overpass and drank, but that wasn’t a pastime she would admit to her parents even if she didn’t personally go out there.

The iron fencing encircled the parking lot with only two gaps, and they had been reinforced with multiple layers of chain-link. Inside, neat rows of raised beds showcased an impressive garden. A man stood inside the fence with a weapon that looked like a curved axe from a fantasy game attached to the end of a broom handle. Instead of looking ridiculous, the sight made a shiver of fear travel down Stella’s spine.

All the guy had to do was scream or bang his axe against the fence and zombies would come running. Maybe Alicia would get to safety, but Stella doubted she could outrun one right now. She should have waited in the woods like Alicia had suggested. Alicia stopped on the far side of the road, her gaze scanning the houses, which put her back to the guy with the huge axe. Stella wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Hi,” she said as she stepped closer to the fence. Alicia would give her warning if any wanderers came near, so she risked speaking in a tone that was almost normal. The guy scowled at her. This was the father-figure of the group—a wide-shouldered man with gray at the temples and a face that would have fit in at a mob convention. Her father used to call that look “rode hard and put up wet.”

Instead of answering, he switched the weapon from one hand to the other.

Stella cleared her throat. “I’m Stella. I grew up a half mile that way.” She gestured toward her old house.

He stared at her.

“I was hoping you had some antibiotics we could trade for. I have guns and ammunition.” Those were her most valuable possessions, but the growing heat in Stella’s leg made her think medicine was more important.

He snorted. “Blades work better than guns on zombies.”

“Zombies aren’t the only danger out here, as evidence by my leg and the arrow-shaped hole in it,” Stella snapped.

The man’s gaze darted down to her blood-stained pants. This was two pairs of pants she had ruined today because there was no way she could get the blood out of either pair. His expression softened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any we can spare.”

Stella opened her mouth to argue—to beg—to do something potentially humiliating or pointless or both, but then one of the kids came running out of the boarded-up department store. He was eight or ten with blond hair and an upturned nose that made him adorable. He was like a little doll. He looked a lot like Roger Lily used to, except Roger had darker hair.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” She turned her back and limped toward Alicia. Alicia’s mouth was drawn into a thin line and her brows had drawn down into a thunderous frown.

“Wait,” they man called out after exchanging whispers with the child. Stella turned back around. “Is one of you a werewolf?”

Alicia charged past Stella, her hands curled and wicked claws showing. Great. Yeah, that’s the perfect way to hide a secret that could cause racist assholes to target you. Stella would have hauled Alicia away by her ear, but she was too tired to bother.

“Why?” Alicia demanded.

“Told you,” the kid said in gleeful condescension. “Oma says to bring them in.”

“I don’t want to come in. I want medicine,” Alicia growled.

The man held his one hand up to show the palm, but he still had his other on his fancy axe-thing. “We don’t mean any harm. Chris is not used to people and sometimes says things in the worst way possible.” He pushed the axe toward the kid. The weapon was as tall as the kid, and Chris wrapped both hands around the shaft. “Take that back to Oma and stay there.”

“But—”

“Now,” the man said sharply.

Chris gave a dramatic sigh and lifted the axe with both hands before carrying it carefully back toward the store front.

“I’m Geoff. My mother would want to invite you in, not force you to join us or bring you in at the point of a weapon.”

“Good because we don’t want to come in,” Alicia said. Given that they had come for help, her tone seemed a little hostile. Stella came over and put a hand on Alicia’s arm. A shiver travelled across Alicia’s back, but she maintained her defensive posture.

“If you can’t help us, you can’t,” Stella said. “I wish you and your family the best.” She tugged on Alicia’s arm. Whatever was going on, Alicia looked ready to wolf out on the guy. Stella didn’t want to see anyone hurt, so a little distance seemed wise. They could hit the Miles place and maybe even her house. She had avoided it all these years, but she knew her mother had a stockpile of medicines. Most of those had been abandoned that day. They were probably still in that duffle bag somewhere in the garage.

“We can help.” The man lifted a heavy bar keeping a security gate closed. “We avoid most people because my mother has magic. Humans don’t always understand, but you’re a werewolf. You get it. My mother says you can come in, so we’ll help you.”

Stella looked at Alicia. She had no idea if werewolf-magic people alliances were normal. She was tempted to call this Oma a witch, but she suspected that would go over about as well as calling Alicia supernatural. If she didn’t know how to avoid offending non-human type people, she certainly didn’t know how to judge possible offers of help.

Alicia stood with her hands curled into weapons, her gaze going from Gavin to Stella and back. “If you try something, I’ll rip someone’s stomach open,” she threatened.

Geoff lifted his hands in surrender. “Noted. We’ve made enough noise out here to be dangerous, so get in here so we can get this gate secured again.”

Alicia looked to Stella. “Your call,” Stella said. Between the pain and the fever and her ignorance of all things non-human, she had no opinion.

Alicia huffed. “Fine, but if you don’t have medicine, tell me now so I can go find someone to rob.”

“Subtle, real subtle,” Stella said softly. Alicia shot back serious eyebrow shit talk.

“Nice to meet you, Geoff,” Stella said. “Like I said, I’m Stella and this is Alicia. I’m not actually a werewolf. Human here.”

“I had assumed,” Geoff said with a smile that suggested he knew something she didn’t. Stella hated him a little for that smile. “Please. Come in. He stepped back to allow them through the gate. Alicia had a subvocal growl going, but she moved forward, and Stella moved with her, one hand on Alicia’s arm. At this point Stella wasn’t sure if she needed something to hang onto to stay upright or if she hoped to stop Alicia from attacking their hosts. Maybe both.