Chronicles of the Damned (Book 1): Lonely Girl Read online

  Walking towards the north, I avoid large stores along the way because those were normally not very good for scavenging, either having been scavenged early on or full of un-people "statues". Jingles is more that sort, a “statue”, even though he does move his keys. Another reason I have been avoiding large stores is because of the spooky things I have seen before, like how others had thought they could make it until help arrived. Either they finally let The Bad make them do scary things to themselves or others, or in other places, the hunting hordes, un-people that hunt anything living so they can eat it, found them. I threw up till snot came out my nose the first time I came across such a sight. It was at the grocery store we used to go to. I went there once I came back to this area after... Anyway, I thought I could find a lot of things to eat. Needless I say I left it unexplored.

  Where I have been finding the best scavenge is in out-of-the-way areas or homes that doesn’t have an abandoned-in-a-hurry look.

  So on I travel pulling my cloth-covered-wheel wagon, until arriving in an area that looks promising. It is a residential area which has some homes that have solar panels on the roofs. That normally means the people had tried to be self-sufficient. There could be some type of preserves stored away or even a garden that might have some live plants of some type. Taking time to bring out my flashlight and a Bic lighter, I begin with one of the solar panel homes and try to get in. The door is locked, a possible good sign so that is okay. I have long ago learned to get into locked buildings.

  First I tap on the windows to see if anything reacts. Nothing will mess up the day like being surprised by one of the un-persons, even if they are not moaners. Moaners are the opposite of Statues. They seem to have the ability to move when they want too. Besides being dead and still moving, they are extra scary because of their moaning. First if there are enough of them, it really starts making it hard to think but secondly they make Statue un-people start moaning and coming to them to help get you. That is how hunting packs get created. The will of the moaner drives the pack and that will always has them searching out the living to eat. Funny that the dead want food, not so funny being on the menu. I guess what we learned about the ancient Egyptians in school showed they had the right idea about putting food in with their dead.

  With patience and effort, I keep exploring the outside until I find a way into the home. The house’s air smells staIe with no scent of any type of death. Believe it or not there is a smell to certain types of death I have found. A good death smell is when something died the way things are supposed to die, that is die and stay dead. Though depending on what state the decaying might be in, at least it won’t be trying to eat you. The bad death smell is a heavy smell of sickness and something else that I have never been able to describe but know it when I smell it. This is normally a strong sign that a un-person of either type could be around. Too bad the smell doesn’t last on the un-person. They normally just smell like the rest of us, dirty. Houses though can keep the smell for a long time when they are closed up. Sort of a like a memory or ghost of what those who once belonged there and called it home.

  With flashlight in one hand, Bic lighter in my mouth in case the flashlight gives out, and walking rod in the other, I enter. Before I start looking for things, I start out by pulling open drapes and/or blinds so there will be much needed light. It helps with searching and might slow down a moaner. With the former home interior brighter, the search of the house can begin for real.

  In the end, I find a lot of old cobwebs, a few rolls of forgotten toilet paper (a rare treat), and some magazines about sports (up north was supposed to have a good fishing season two years ago). The backyard doesn’t have a vegetable garden, but I did find some usable items like two screwdrivers, a file, and a hooked garden tool that still has a good edge.

  The next two houses prove even less useful but the last house is like a bonus-round treasure chest. There are several types of preserves of various colors and type. The dates on the labels are from before The Bad but that is okay since they are still within the safe time according to one of the books I have back at base. As I move the food treasure to my wheel wagon, I notice old black and white photos on the walls of what might have been the living room. I love it when houses have photos. It is not as fun as television was but as things are, it’s really close. With photos, I can imagine what was going on at the time the photo was taken. With a few more, I can put together a story of how they lived and what fun or sad adventures they might have been having, which might be right or wrong but it is my story so I like it. This house has a bunch of the photos of various groups of people. All of the people are in western clothes. Every one of the photos contains so many men on horses, others with ropes, women in dresses, and clowns. One photo makes me smile broadly after laughing out loud because, it is another group photo that has a "sad" clown holding a donkey's tail for dear life as if the clown is going to fly away. The donkey is looking at the camera with a “Why me” expression.

  Doing proper searches takes time, so the sun was low when I am done with this wonderful find, so I decide to stay in this house which gives me more time to look at the photos some more and just imagine what other lives before The Bad might have been like. Though the house will get cool, it’s way better than being outside. Also I know there are no type of un-people in it and it has, from what I can tell, sturdy walls and a roof.

  My mouth waters as I open one of the preserve jars before it gets too dark to see without a flashlight. To my delight I find it is a sugary sweet blackberry preserve. Though I mean to only each a little, I eat like our cats ate their wet food treat, with no mercy. All I can say is the little jar held heavenly sweet bliss. After the meal, I drink some water and then use a little more of it so I can brush my teeth and rinse. Finally I go to a large closet that I found earlier so I can sleep in it. A closet is a good secure place that offers a door, walls and places to hide quickly. Having buried myself and Bouncy Bouncy under clothes from the closet, we drift off to sleep, remembering the days before Daddy came home scared and The Bad came right behind him.

  Daylight slowly crawls along the closet’s carpeted floor. I watched it with drowsy interest for as long as the light beam lasts, because I didn’t want to leave the warm nest. Finally I make myself stand up, stretch, and open the closet door to be greeted by dazzling sunlight and cold air. With food now taken care of for the moment, I feel I have time to go “clothes shopping”. Rummaging through the various closets and dresser drawers, I am able to find clothes I can wear if I layer them. This was perfect for the upcoming winter. I also remember to allow myself room to grow. Momma always insisted that be done when we went real clothes shopping, even when I found something perfect like that shirt with the famous mouse before Momma couldn’t shop with me anymore. Momma wouldn’t buy it because there was not enough room to grow in, no matter how I pleaded, promised, or begged. I knew better than to throw a fit because neither she nor Daddy tolerated that. She did get me a hat with a bunny on it though. I had to leave it behind when we last left the apartment, even though I was down to the last adjustment button. I don’t want to think about that any more.

  Next I check for other things. This home really is a true treasure chest as I find sewing needles, various threads, towels, more toilet paper, and various batteries. Obviously the original occupants never came home when the world changed, I thought to myself. And still luck continues to come my way, as I find mechanical pencils, writing paper, printer paper, and miracle of wonders, books in good condition. I didn’t have enough room for the tons of books, which range in subjects such as biographies, foreign cultures, adventure, horror, science fiction, and an assortment of college books. I can take a couple for now after hiding the rest, I tell myself. As I look over the books, I read the description and began sorting them to my level of interest. As I do this, I think back to Momma’s favorite book writer, Stephen King, who she said wrote scary books. I wonder, I think to myself, Will people in the future, after The Bad has gone away, think
he was a quaint children’s book writer? Feeling good about having remembered such a word as “quaint” and its proper usage, I chose only one book, Watership Down. This will give Bouncy Bouncy a brush up on bunny survival and be a good read for both of us, I hope.

  After taking the time to hide the book hoard, I begin securing my haul onto the wagon. Though not as much food as I had hoped for, I load the wagon down to the point it will take a long while, maybe the rest of the day to get back to the base. Slowly working the wagon out of the front door, I begin the slow walk home.

  The bright morning has turned in to a cloudy afternoon when I have to stop. My hands and legs ache from pulling the heavy wagon and now I worry the return trip will take too long. Cold wind with the hint of rain has been blowing since the clouds rolled in. On top of that, I need to pee. Even with the world captured and held by The Bad, I will not go do my private business in the open.

  There is a field with trees across the street from a set of fenced off apartments. Once I take care of immediate business, I can go to the apartments. I’ll find a way past the gate/fence, check for un-people, and then find a way in to one of them.

  I head out into the field because I plan on doing my private business behind and hidden by the trees and I am really needing to go! I leave the wagon in the middle of the street after taking a roll of toilet paper since there has I have not felt like I have been followed today or as a matter of fact yesterday. As I walk through the dead grass towards the trees, I am so happy I have the toilet paper and wouldn’t have to use grass to wipe. Grass can have stickers as Daddy learned on one of our scavenge trips. I thought they could have heard him in Grand Prairie as loud as he yelled. It was one of the few times I heard him use bad words and boy did he use a lot of them.

  I look around for a good spot once I make it to the trees. Finally finding one, I begin to prepare to do my private business. Keeping the tree to my left, I plan to keep the road in sight as best I can through the grass. The cold is no fun on my backside and cause me to not be able to begin my business. I just squat and shiver, till I started humming a Girl Scout song to take my mind off of the cold.

  Suddenly my head is bashed against the tree, then I am pulled back as I am shaken left and right. I try to get up but I keep being dragged down and shaken. I try to twist but my backpack and chest straps keep me from doing it. I am only just able to keep from being forced onto my back or side though my neck is hurting and my stomach is aching. Without warning, two creatures come out of the grass and enter the tree area in front of me. My stomach feels like it went into my chest then because they are coyotes, like what I had seen at the Fort Worth Zoo. Things start to slow down as the two stop to see what is happening. Their eyes hungrily look into mine and I become afraid. Then there is a ripping sound behind me. Somehow I have the freedom that allows me to try to twist free but all I am able to do is see that it is a third coyote that has hold of me. The noise is from a piece of my backpack being torn away from the backpack flap, which it has in its mouth.

  Snarling, it lurches forward towards my face. I duck and luckily it only gets hold of my backpack but unluckily it has control of me again. I can’t get loose and am tiring fast. The other two coyotes have been circling all this time and now prepare to move towards me. I find my voice as I start crying out in fear and frustration. That only makes the coyote who has hold of me shake me harder, as the other two begin their attack.

  Everything starts moving really slow then. I can no longer hear anything other than my fast beating heart which sounds like a big drum...when all at once, the trees roar with rage!

  Chapter Three

  Enter the Beast

  A dark form explodes from the dead grass, and like a growl of thunder, rolls toward my and the third coyote’s right side. The third coyote begins a mad scramble to drag me away but finally lets me go a split second before the raging freight train hits. I feel the dark beast’s charging steps through the ground behind me, then there is a sick whimper followed by a tearing sound. Something wet and hot hits me from behind. I slowly reach behind me and when my hand returns, I have sticky blood on my palm.

  I freeze and reality seems to become dream like. I can see the two coyotes in front of me move apart and then towards me. Without warning, the first coyote charges towards me or maybe towards the beast behind me. I feel it begin to charge from behind me again through the ground. This makes the first coyote turn around like a bolt of lightning and run away. For a moment the giant animal gives chase once it is past me, then it turns around faster than I would have thought for a creature going that fast and this was more than the second coyote who was sneaking towards me expected. Jumping over my outstretched legs, the black beast attacked the second coyote. It bit into the coyote’s neck, and using its momentum and bulging neck muscles, the beast swung the helpless coyote off its paws and crashed its back into a tree trunk. There is a sickening pop. As if to spit the second coyote out of its mouth, the beast tosses it to left and leaves it lying there twitching and desperately trying to breathe. The first coyote has seen what has happened to the second when it tried to sneak up on the beast. Now it realizes that it is going to die also unless it escapes immediately. Faster than it would take to finish this sentence, the first coyote is gone.

  And with that, the battle is done as quickly as it had started. Two coyotes lay dead or dying and the remaining one is long gone. I feel as if I have just woken from a dream, when the beast just walks back into view.

  The creature is black as a black crayon. Its fur is dirty and either matted with mud or now fresh blood. Its ears look too short to be on such a massive head and though it looks thick as a softball bat, its tail also seems short for such a big dog. Its eyes, though, are what catches my attention because of how dark they are, like a shark’s. I stay as still as I can in case any movement might make it attack. That is how we stayed, never taking our gaze off of each other, even when it shook its giant head, which let blood and spit fly left and right. Unexpectedly, the beast’s stance became different and I noticed its gaze had left me and focused on something else. Fearing the last coyote had returned, I dared to move my head a little so I could get a better look at what the beast was looking at.

  My heart stopped at that moment, Bouncy Bouncy had fallen out of his chair during the attack. Laying on his back, the bunny simply looked up into the tree limbs and the sky bound, as he was trying to stay as still as possible, so he could become invisible instead of looking totally defenseless. I have to think how to get to Bouncy Bouncy before the beast attacks him. Before my brain has time to work, my nightmare begins when the beastly monster moves like lightning towards my only family left. I try to get to him first, but the monster is too fast. Never slowing down, it scoops up Bouncy Bouncy and then seems to run even faster towards the tall grass. I get on my feet and start to sprint only to fall back down, almost on top of the third coyote’s dead body. I scream with rage and fear as I can’t get my feet and legs to work. Suddenly it clicks, I am entangled by my own pants that are still down around my ankles. I yank them up, but not wanting to lose more time looking for my utility belt, I just hold them up with my left hand and run.

  I dash out of the tree area but can’t find that bunny thieving killer. “No, no, no...” flow out of my mouth as I desperately look around. Slightly ahead of me and to my right, the tall grass moves. I start to run that way, when the monster explodes out in front of me, my helpless Bouncy Bouncy still locked in its savage jaws. My poor sweet friend looks desperately into my eyes as he begs for help. I turn and gave chase but the monster runs back into the dead grass and then vanishes. Still searching and hoping to keep up, I move quickly while I look around for any signs of movement that would put me back on track.

  How long we played hide and go seek, I can’t say. All the time the beast makes fun of me with teasing glimpses of Bouncy Bouncy, as it runs past and back into hiding. Finally the monster make its last insult by watching me run around in the tall grass, while it lays co
mfortably from the street next to the wagon, with Bouncy Bouncy between its front legs. All the time it is laying there, it laughs at me and my fruitless efforts. When I finally realize where that monster is, I just stop and stand there in the tall dead grass and look at him laughing at me. I just couldn’t think anymore. Like an un-person statue, I just couldn’t move or even think, until that poopie-head dared to cock his head to the side as if I was stupid.

  I saw red then! I charge directly at that bunny thief, as I scream with all my rage. The monster suddenly jumped up on its feet but instead of attacking me like the coyotes, it sprints off with its tail held up. I keep running and screaming till I reach Bouncy Bouncy, and I quickly kneel down to him and pick him up to comfort him.

  My poor sweet one’s torso and arms were soggy with that foul pooh-head’s spit. His torso also has red and pink marks for some reason. As I squat on the street while rocking and speaking gently to reassure him, a thump hits my head. Angrily I look up but there is nothing to see other than the cracked street with dead plants that have grown out in different cracks and the gated apartments. I look behind me at the lot with the tall dead grass, trees, and hidden from sight, two dead coyotes. Finally looking back at Bouncy Bouncy, who is in my lap, I see he has a tear forming in his right eye. Slowly it starts rolling down but also being absorbed by the material of his body. I quickly bring him to my chest to comfort him some more. Another moment later, I hear something hit the street. Looking over where the sound came from, I see a wet spot. It dawns on me that it was going to rain. Glowering up at the cloudy sky, I think to myself, “Ah poop”!

  I can’t pull the wagon, hold Bouncy Bouncy and my pants all at the same time. I have to be “practical”, I think is the correct word, so I just take off my pants, throw them on to the wagon and start pulling the wagon to get everything going. I won’t be able to make it to base in time plus I was starting to feel bad so I head towards the apartments. Luck is with me when I find the gate to the apartments has been unable to close because a car had crashed into them and forced them backwards and off their tracks. I have enough room to move my wagon around and past both obstacles. The rain starts coming just as I am able to get me, the bunny, and wagon under some cover. I go to the first apartment door but it is locked. I go back to the wagon, got something heavy and just break out part of the front window. I do wait to see if I hear moaning, Momma and Daddy didn’t raise no fool even if I am tired, and I feel bad and cranky, but it never comes. Carefully I move my torn backpack, some extra clothes though the hole in the window to protect me, then crawl into the apartment.