Feast Page 3

  Jakob was adapting. Learning. Growing stronger, tougher and more resilient. He was a far cry from Peter, Ella and Anne still, but he was cruising ahead, while Alia was standing still.

  But I can read labels, she thought, and opened her door first.

  After a brief and cautious walk, they stood in front of the grocery store entrance. The doors were shut and the interior was dark, far more ominous than Alia expected. “So...we can’t break a window, right? That would be too loud.”

  Peter’s response was to step up to the automatic door, grasp the metal handle and pull. It resisted for a moment, but then the gears that hadn’t moved in a long time, gave way, whirring as the door opened.

  Before entering, Peter said, “Lights on. We’ll do a sweep of each aisle and then break into two groups.”

  After turning on their headlamps and chambering rounds in their silenced weapons—Alia had a handgun but she couldn’t remember what kind—they crept into the store. Peter took the lead, followed by Jakob, Alia, Anne and Ella. This was their usual formation, and Alia understood the point of her position. There were two layers of people who could fight on either side of her.

  Protecting her.

  They moved across the front of the store, which faintly smelled of rotted food, but more like dust. They paused for a moment at the cereal aisle, where a heap of dead bodies lay between the Cocoa Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

  “There was either a really good sale, or these guys got a hankering for fresh meat all at the same time.” Anne seemed unfazed by the mound of death, but Alia thought...hoped...it was just an act.

  When the Change started affecting humanity, people resisted their growing urges. At first they ate more meat. And then only meat. And then raw meat. Eventually, someone would succumb and take a bite out of a neighbor, family member or total stranger at the grocery store. And once the smell of fresh blood filled the air, it triggered a response in everyone nearby. Alia had no trouble picturing that here. One of these people, probably someone buried beneath the rest, had snapped and attacked. Then everyone in the store on the fringe of changing had lost the battle against it and had joined in.

  She shivered as her imagination took over, replaying scenes of spraying blood, gnashing teeth and tearing fingernails. It would have been like some kind of zombie apocalypse, but worse. Because people weren’t just killing each other, they were changing as they did, growing more efficient and deadly and hungry with each kill. Whoever walked away from this feeding frenzy probably didn’t even look human anymore.

  “Okay,” Jakob said. “Cereal was never on the list anyway.” As one of the most genetically modified and processed foods available before the Change, cereal was generally off limits. But it had remained popular even after ExoGenetic crops sprang up everywhere. Everyone was fed during those days, but that didn’t stop people from wanting their microwave meals, instant puddings and chocolate-dipped donut bites. Fresh produce was no longer sold in stores, but processed food never went out of style.

  “Looks like this store is a mixer,” Jakob said. He’d coined the term at the last grocery store they had visited. Mixers didn’t separate organic food from regular food, but shelved them together, making their best bet at finding safe food a little bit harder.

  After finishing the sweep, they split into two groups—adults and kids—but Anne wandered off within thirty seconds of the split. “You guys need some smoochy time,” she said as she wandered away, scanning lines of boxes. “Just like Mom and Dad.”

  Alia didn’t think that was true about Ella and Peter. They hid their affection for each other during the day, but Alia wasn’t deaf. She heard them on occasion during a sleepless night. She never got up the nerve to peek, but it didn’t sound like they were having thumb wars.

  But for her and Jakob...time alone was at a premium, so Alia didn’t complain when Anne walked away.

  And neither did Jakob.

  They didn’t speak for a few minutes as they scanned the shelves, but they grew steadily closer. When they stood shoulder to shoulder, Jakob leaned closer and said, “You smell horrible.”

  She laughed and said, “And together, we’re like a bouquet of shit.”

  He put his arm around her and squeezed her close.

  As she turned to kiss him, her eyes locked onto a jar on the far side of the aisle. She stopped mid-pucker and said, “Whoa.”

  It was peanut butter.

  Organic peanut butter. Chunky organic peanut butter. The holy grail of post-apocalyptic treats. Peanut butter had a long shelf life. Back when there was still an Internet, she’d watched a video of a man eating sixty-year-old peanut butter rations from the Korean War. If the expiration date, which was more of a suggestion to keep food moving off the shelf, was early enough, there would be no fear of ExoGenetic contamination. They could eat it. All of it. And there were at least thirty jars.

  Jakob picked up a jar, twisted it in his hand and smiled wide. “Jackpot.” He lifted the jar and looked inside. “It’s separated—”

  “Organic peanut butter is always separated.”

  “Well then, it’s perfect.” Jakob looked up and down the aisle. “Now we just need to find some coconut oil and dark chocolate and we’ll be in business.”

  Both items, when organic, were on Ella’s safe list. Coconut was not an ExoGenetic crop, and organic, free-trade chocolate was one of the last crops to be overrun. They also had very long shelf lives. If the dates were right, they could have the makings of an epic snack, unlike anything she’d had in two years. Her mouth watered, but the food took a sudden back seat when Jakob, in his excitement, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

  They had kissed before. A lot. Their awkward first kiss had been back at her farmhouse, in the biodome, just a few feet from where her mother had been buried. They had never met, but shared a kiss that expressed their elation at finally meeting. There had been many more kisses, snuck in during brief private moments. In the darkness of night. When Anne fell asleep in the truck and the parents were looking out the front. But this...this was different. This was passionate.

  When they separated, Jakob looked bewildered. “I guess peanut butter is an aphrodisiac.”

  Alia said nothing. She just took him by the hand and led him away.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Bathroom,” she said. “I saw them in the corner of the store.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to pee.” That was the truth, and she never passed up a toilet, whether or not they flushed. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and as Jakob’s hand grew sweaty in hers, he knew it, too.

  When they reached the door to the women’s room, she put her hand on his chest and said, “Wait here.”

  He looked a little surprised, but said, “You really do have to pee. I thought that was like code or something.”

  “Real and code,” she said.

  “Hold on.” Jakob pushed the bright blue door open slowly, aiming his rifle inside the room, scanning it from side to side. With no signs of danger or even a bad smell, he stepped aside and held the door open for her. “Your throne awaits.”

  “Be just a minute.” Alia said and stepped inside. When the door was closed, she tried to let herself feel normal. It’s just a bathroom.

  She opened the first stall. The toilet was pristine and empty. There were few things more disappointing than a post-apocalyptic toilet that hadn’t been flushed.

  Just pretend the power is out, she told herself, dropping her pants and sitting on the cool seat. When she was done peeing, she reached for toilet paper and smiled. It was a simple thing, but she’d gone without it too many times. Once was too many times. It was a stupid thing, but it brought her joy, and as she wadded it up, wiped and then stood to pull up her pants, she was lost in the moment. Her hands moved on muscle memory, first buckling her belt, and then reaching back and pushing the small metal lever.

  Her mind woke up as the lever shifted downward. She flinched her hand away, but it was too la
te. Water pressure that had been contained for years exploded into the toilet with uproarious urgency.

  The bathroom door burst open. “Alia!”

  She stepped out of the stall, face twisted in concern. “I flushed. I didn’t mean to. It just—”

  The wall between them shook. A long hooked talon punched through, separating them. Alia screamed and reeled back. The hard shell was green, and its bottom side was serrated like a massive knife.

  Jakob fell back out of the bathroom, raising his rifle to fire. A second exoskeletal appendage slammed through the wall and struck the door, slamming it shut.

  Alia scrambled away, slipping on the smooth tile floor, grasping for the silenced handgun she had holstered before sitting on the toilet.

  The massive limbs moved in and out, sawing through the wall with frantic jerking motions. Alia’s screams were drowned out by a loud chirping that tore through the air like an alarm. It was the most noise she had heard since the battle at her parents’ farmhouse, and if anything else was around, it would already be on its way.

  The wall gave way, coughing a cloud of drywall into the room. Support beams bent and broke. And then a head slid into the room, insect like, but unidentifiable. It had massive oval eyes that shimmered under the glare of Alia’s headlamp. Three sets of mandibles opened and closed, while smaller grinding mouths twitched. The thing lacked any kind of expression, but exuded menace, and hunger.

  Alia drew her weapon and pulled the trigger. The first three rounds missed, despite the creature’s size. But the rest struck the oversized insect’s head and forelimbs, ricocheting into the ceiling and walls. The 9mm weapon, about all she could handle, was ineffective.

  Through the frenzied chirping, she thought she heard voices. The bathroom door shook from the far side. It opened an inch, but when it struck the creature’s leg, it was pushed back, sealing predator and prey in a fifteen-foot-long space with no other exit. Not even a window.

  A claw snapped out and cracked the tile floor, just missing her legs. She pushed back further, but stopped when her back struck the wall.

  The insect pushed deeper into the room, incensed by its failure.

  Alia tried to reload her weapon, but she only managed to drop it and the spare magazine.

  When the creature struck again, so fast that the limb looked like it had teleported from one spot to the next, Alia pushed herself up onto her feet. She screamed, again and again, but the sound was lost in the insect’s chirping, a symphony of life and death.

  With nowhere else to run, Alia dove into the stall, yanked the door shut and twisted the lock. She huddled atop the toilet, clutching herself, sobbing.

  The metal walls vibrated. The tip of a claw stabbed through. It pulled free with a shriek of carapace on metal. The next strike would be hard enough and deep enough to find her.

  A cacophonous boom shook the air.

  The floor trembled.

  A second boom rang out.

  The chirping fluttered and stopped.

  In the silence that followed, Alia wept. Then something moved.

  It’s coming back!

  Walls crumbled. Tiles crunched. It was right outside the stall.

  The door shook.

  She heard voices shouting her name, but she couldn’t hear who, over the sound of her own ragged screams.

  The door was torn open.

  It was Peter, shotgun in hand, face covered in white gore.

  She fell into his arms, vision fading. She remembered being carried. She saw a large number of empty shells lying on the hallway floor as she was rushed out of the bathroom. Peter had resorted to using the loud shotgun when normal bullets had failed. The rest of the retreat from the grocery store, and then the area was a blur. Somewhere along the line, she fell asleep.

  When she woke up again, everyone was quiet. She said nothing, but started crying when she found a jar of peanut butter in her lap. She could have gotten them all killed, but they were still showing her kindness. Alia wondered how long that would last. Sooner or later, she was going to get someone killed.

  Sooner or later, she was going to have to leave.

  5

  “Are we there yet?” Anne asked. It had become a running gag and was usually good for a chuckle, harkening back to a time of normalcy, when driving across the country with siblings was considered mind-numbingly boring. But now, with the possibility of every turn revealing a new horror, crossing the country was far from dull. They rode mostly in silence, each of them keeping watch in a different direction.

  Jakob had told Anne about how, when he was younger, he used to imagine a man running in time with the truck, leaping from building to building, or trees, or whatever else they passed. She thought it was strange at first, but sometimes caught herself imagining a giant sword extending from the side of the truck, cutting down all the trees and endless fields they passed.

  Instead of laughing, Ella replied, “Almost,” which killed the joke and put her fellow backseat riders on edge. So far, the two biodomes Anne and her mother had visited had been left in ruins. Lives had been lost or uprooted. Jakob and Peter had nearly died on multiple occasions, and Alia had lost her father. The man had already been out of his mind, but he was still her father. Anne was still getting to know her father, but already she couldn’t picture a future without him in it. He was brave, and strong and disciplined. While the world had fallen into chaos, he brought order and balance, even to her mother, who had become somewhat savage to survive. Anne didn’t hold that against her mother. They’d both survived only because they were willing to do horrible things, and Peter was equally willing, but his strategic mind was better at avoiding trouble, or getting out of it without losing a piece of his soul in the process.

  Or maybe he just lost less of it. He’d seen combat before, and not the kind where people were killing ravenous monsters. He had fought and killed other people. Normal people. And it had left scars on his body and psyche. He had told her about it one day while foraging. At first, it seemed like he was just shooting the breeze, telling stories to his daughter. But then she understood that it was a morality lesson about the horrors of war. A warning to not get lost in the killing and death and non-stop adrenaline. “It can change the way you see the world,” he had said. “When you become numb to death, you become numb to life, and it’s a lot easier to lose something you can’t feel.”

  “Like I might cut off a finger if I can’t feel it,” she had said.

  “Mmm,” he had agreed, “except that losing your finger only affects you. If you were to die...”

  She had thought his concern was about how Anne dying might affect Ella. But when he turned away from her, hiding his face and whatever emotion was going on there, she understood that he was becoming as fond of her as she was of him.

  Since then, she had fully embraced the idea that she now had a complete family unit. Maybe the only one left on Earth. And for that, despite all the death and violence and horrible monsters trying to eat them, not to mention a good deal of the numbing he had warned her about, she felt blessed.

  And now, as they approached another biodome, she couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of impending doom. Would they be welcomed? Would they face yet more monsters? Would a member of her family—even Alia, who sometimes irked Anne—be in mortal danger? And how could Anne’s parents not see these risks? Why not just drive around and keep on going? Could the people holed up there be that helpful? They probably weren’t even alive.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jakob said, looking out the side window opposite Anne. She blinked out of her thoughts and understood her brother’s disheartened tone. The roadside for miles had been flanked by unending fields of what looked like miniature trees with green, orb covered stalks topped with lettuce heads. Her mother said they were Brussels sprouts. Actually, she had said, “Brassica oleracea var. gemmifera,” but Anne knew what that meant...somehow.

  But now the Brussels sprout plants were giving way to lush, swampy land. It was
n’t the terrain itself that was frightening, but the kinds of creatures that once might have populated the area, and what they might have become since the Change.

  “Aww, geez,” Alia said, leaning over Jakob, her body nearly lying on top of his. Was she really afraid or just copping a feel? Teenagers, Anne thought with a roll of her eyes. She hoped she’d never be one. Not that she wanted to die, she just hoped she could skip past that stage of life. From what she could tell from Jakob and Alia, not to mention her own mother’s monthly cycle, hormones were hell.

  “Did you see the name of the street?” Jakob asked.

  While street names weren’t very important to Anne’s day-to-day life, she often read the signs anyway. She made a game out of guessing why the name had been chosen. Was it random? Did it describe the terrain? A person who lived there? The funniest she’d seen was French Hussy Road. She had been tuned out for the past few minutes and missed this sign.

  “Alligator Road,” Jakob said. “Alligator. They were bad enough before. What could—”

  “Hey Jake,” Peter said, sounding calm. “Do me a favor?”

  “Uh,” Jakob said. “Yeah?”

  Peter glanced in the rearview, making eye contact with his son. “I think you know.”

  “Right,” Jakob said. “Sorry. I’ll try not to point out what a bad idea this is.”

  Anne cracked a smile. Jakob had been picking up some of her biting sarcasm. She liked it.

  A wooden sign on the side of the road read, ‘Alligator Creek Ahead.’

  “So am I allowed to say what a bad idea this is?” Anne asked. Peter just smiled. He wasn’t stupid. He knew they were entering dangerous territory. But really, everywhere was dangerous territory.

  This just sounded worse.

  The small two-lane road was framed by lush trees and wet ground, full of ferns and moss and surprisingly few ExoGen crops. The already aggressive swamplands had maintained some of their territorial grip. But not all of it. A mixture of crops grew in patches. Anne whispered their names as she spotted them. “Beta vulgaris. Brassica oleracea var. botrytis. Brassica oleracea var. capitate. Oryza sativa.” Otherwise known as Sugar Beets, Broccoli, Cabbage and rice, which grew right out of the water.