Red Plague

Written by:  Ryan Holmes

Jimmy crept from one hiding place to the next, a maze of cars clogging an empty street.  He wanted to hide in a hole.  Weak, thoughts of resting beckoned.  Clawing at his stomach, fearful fingers gripping mother’s knife, hunger drove him.  Forced him into the open.  Dangerous.  Monsters in the open, always lurking.  Hungry, too.

Jimmy stopped.  Listening, he waited, breath caught.  There, heard it again, like nails on metal.  Have to look.  Don’t want to.  Turning, he saw it caressing the panels of a truck with sharp, tarnished nails.  Pale face, sizzling when touched by light, stared at him, drooling, jagged teeth gnashing.  Jimmy ran.

Heart pounding, feet failing, must keep running.  Monster’s gaining, even leaping shadows, it’s faster.  Hide in the light, only chance.  Find a clearing, too many buildings, no light.  There, an empty parking lot, only half dark.  Movement, someone’s there.

Crossing into the sanctuary of the lot, two girls faced him from the far side.  A young one in a pink dress with white polka dots held a teddy bear.  The other, older, almost grown-up, wore a cowboy hat and open duster.  Strange.  Standing in the shadows.  Don’t care.  Need help.

Jimmy hid behind the girls in the shade thrown by a broken building.  They faced the creature, unyielding.  It stopped at the verge of light.  Then, wading in, skin sizzling, it stared, pondering.  It hissed a challenge.  Then it retreated into the shade, turning back down the street.

Monster left.  Very strange.  Plenty of shade everywhere.  Tough.  Not bothered by the light.  Why go?  Afraid?  Jimmy looked up, timid, scared, hiding mother’s knife.

“Who’re you?” asked the eldest.

“Jimmy,” he squeaked.

“Ya hungry, Jimmy?” she asked, tossing him a bag of jerky.  Jimmy tore into it, dropping the knife.

“Where did ya get that?”

Speaking through fingers and a jerky filled mouth, Jimmy answered, “Mom gave it to me.”  He stopped chewing, “The night the men took her.”

“Why didn’t they take you?  Slavers get top trade for younglings.”

“Mom hid me in a cubby with the knife.”

“Know how ta use it?”  Jimmy shook his head around a fistful of jerky.  “Guess we’ll have ta teach ya then,” said the oldest, hands on her hips.  “I’m Gage.  This here’s my lil sister, Tanto, but I call her Tani.”  The sister rubbed her bear.  “She don’t talk none, but she listens real good.”  Gage kicked back her hat, “We’re on a huntin’ party.”  Stepping off for the street, “Welcome ta join us,” she said.

Jimmy followed.  After a minute, he asked, “What was that chasing me?”

Gage gave a peculiar look, “New to the Waist, aint ya?  People ‘round here call ‘em liches.  Pulling down her hat, she said, “Must be an Outcast from Haven.  Don’t teach ya much do they?  What’s your blood type, Jimmy?”

“I don’t know.  What’s a blood type?”

“Jeesh, they really don’t tell ya nothin’ in Haven,” said Gage, shaking her head.  “Here’s the short of it.  Daddy said ‘bout five years ago some too smart scientist thought he could cure people.  Made ‘em sick instead.  Caused the Red Plague.  Daddy said the first were type O.  They’re nasty.  Look normal enough, if a bit dead.  Don’t think much, always hungry, and they don’t feel pain.  Then the plague changed.  Started infecting type A, like your lich friend, fast, smart, but weak and burn in the sun.  Wasn’t long and Daddy said the plague changed again making type B even smarter.  They don’t hunt alone like liches.  People call B’s lupines.”

“What do they look like?”

Pointing to a nearby window, Gage said, “Like that.”

Jimmy saw hairy figures looking out of a dozen windows.  Strong.  Open-mouthed.  Sniffing the air.  “What do they want?”

“You.”

Jimmy looked again.  Antsy, like they smell food out of reach.  Why don’t they come?  Looking nervous at each other.  Counting?  Not enough?  Afraid, like before.  Strange.

The lupines faded back into the windows, and the trio walked on.  After a while, Jimmy asked, “Where’s your father now?”

“Left.  Said he found a cure.  Never came back.  Tani knows he’s still out there somewhere.  When we find him maybe he’ll know what blood type ya are.”

“I don’t think I want to know what blood . . .”  Jimmy was interrupted by a loud catcall.  Five armed, dirty men approached.  Strange.  Not infected.  Not afraid.

Pushing Jimmy toward a building, Gage yelled, “Waistlanders, run!”

Jimmy followed Tani inside a building with lots of chairs and half walls.  This one still had a door, and Gage closed it behind them.  “Hurry,” she yelled, “find a place ta hide.”  Tani took Jimmy behind a desk where they could see Gage propping a chair against the door.  “Leave us alone!” she screamed.

Smashing windows with guns.  Laughing.  Howling.  Beasts!  Gage is scared, backing away, crying.  Jimmy gripped mother’s knife harder than before.  No!  Door’s open.  They’re coming inside.

Five men fanned into the room, guns lowered, eyes wild with grins ear to ear.  One, fat, unshaven, and smelling like liquor looked at Gage and said, “Ah, looks like Daddy’s gettin’ some sugar tonight.  Come ‘ear, sweety.  I aint gonna hurt ya.”

Gage turned to Tani, “Now.”

Leaping over the desk, Tani pulled a tanto from a sheath concealed in her waist long hair.  Swinging up and down, the man before her fell, flayed open.  A blur and a flash of metal left the next man holding stubs before a shocked expression rolled off his shoulders.  Gage drew a katana from her left, the blade buried in the duster.  Two men fell, headless, before the last man could lay a hand on his holstered pistol.  Gage spun, pulling up a sawed-off twelve gauge slung on her right, firing the last man through the door before his iron cleared leather.

“What are you?” asked Jimmy.

“We’re type AB.  We’re something else.  Now, start cutting up the meat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you before.  We’re out hunting.”