Cloaked in Savagery - Chapter one

Chapter One

 I inhaled a deep breath of clean cold air, the scent of pine filling my nostrils. The woods below me were old and undisturbed, one of the few truly untouched forests in America. It looked like a blanket of purple, red, and yellow, all spread out far past the horizon. Though the splendor of the colors were unnatural, as delicate as each leaf looked as it clung to its branch, the fact was that they should have shed and turned brown months ago. A snow-less winter where the leaves never fell, yet nature still seemed to be holding its breath before the days would finally give rise to bloom.

"The human race is a plague, don't ya' agree?" Karen asked.

 I looked over my shoulder and raised my eyebrows at her, "Well, considering most humans now are infected with a plague, that's kind of a trick question," I replied, moving back from the cliff and leaning against the hood of our truck.

 "I meant before that," Karen said shaking her head, the motion making her short brown hair dance around. When she turned toward me, her face was flushed red. "We've always been a plague, everywhere we go. We destroy everything that's beautiful and pure. We never deserved this planet."

  I grimaced at her, surprised by her sudden change in mood. "Yeah, most people, but there are some people who can create without destroying," I smiled at her, "Remember that garden we built? Now that was beauty."

   She ignored my comment and continued on, "I'm glad the human race is almost done for, I hope this plague kills us all."

   Her words sent a shot of hurt through me. "So even you and me? You want us to die after everything we've been through to stay alive?" I asked, my tongue clicking off each word.

   My tone made her flinch. "I didn't mean it like that Violet-"

I cut her off, "What did you mean then? I can't speak for everyone, but this plague has killed good people too. Innocent people who didn't deserve to starve to death or worse, be consumed by the virus you now suddenly glorify for cleaning up the gutters of human filth."

 Karen stared at my face, her eyes refused to meet mine, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I got a little crazy there."

 For a few seconds I just stared back at her, feeling the pulse of anger making my knuckles ache. Finally sighing, I pushed down my own feelings before it made the situation worse. "I get it, you're just overwhelmed. We'll both feel better once we get some food in us."

 Karen outstretched her arms towards me. I didn't want to hug her, but I knew it would help her feel better. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I gave her a tight squeeze and after a few seconds pulled away.

"So, what do we have to eat?" I asked.

Karen frowned, a much too common expression her face made when it came to talking about food.

"Not much, but let me check.

She strode around to the back of the truck, and I heard the familiar clatter of items being pushed around as she searched the boxes of gear we had. Sighing, I focused on relaxing myself. We were safe here, as far as I knew. We were parked on the side of the road so we would have a good warning if anything approached us. As Karen shuffled through the boxes, I walked to the side of the truck and set about tying my long black hair into a bun. The ritual I'd done almost daily for as long as I could recall relaxed me. Finished, I crouched and inspected my hair in the side mirror, my bangs ended right above my thin brows, and in front of each ear a long strand of silver hair framed my sun tanned cheeks. Two violet colored eyes stared back at me from the mirror, my eye color always surprised me; It'd surprised my parents so much they had decided to name me after it.

 "What a beautiful mutation you are, Vie, but watch out you don't get lost in those eyes of yours," Karen said, her tone still soft and emotional

Embarrassed to be caught staring at myself. I stood, my eyes now fixing on the box Karen held. 

"So what do we have left.

She glanced down at the contents of the box and tilted the side of it down so I could see.

"Not much, sadly," she said, her voice retreating even more and I could see why - all that remained were a few cans of tuna fish, a jar of old peanut butter, and an unopened bottle of Knob Creek whiskey.

 She lifted the bottle, her fingers holding tight to the neck of the booze, "We could always get super drunk and watch the sun set."

I stroked my chin while I considered her offer. "What year is it?"

She glanced at the date on the bottle, "Two thousand and ten."

"Wow, pretty well aged by now." The temptation to just lay back and lose all inhibitions as the world fell away was compelling, but I had a feeling my empty stomach wasn't in the mood for alcoholic nourishment. "You can have some if you want but I'd rather keep my guard up, besides that tuna is looking mighty tasty. Not to mention I haven't had straight whiskey since the first day we hungout.

Karen's lips parted into a smile as she put the whiskey back in the box. "God, how long ago was that? Two years now?" her smile widened, making her cheeks wrinkle a little, "You were so uptight. Didn't think you'd agree to shots."

"You kept egging me on!" I retorted, enjoying the reminder of better times.

She laughed more, "I wanted to see the look on your face when you tasted it. Never seen your eyes so wide before!"

I stuck my tongue at her, "Well now you can see the look on my face when I have plain, no mayo tuna."

Lifting a can out of the box, I popped open the tab, the fishy aroma filling the air instantly. My stomach growled in anticipation of the long awaited meal. Staring at the chunks of tuna and undoubtedly fishy-flavored water it was surrounded by, I opened my mouth and brought the cold can to my lips. Slurping down the water, I felt the strong fish taste grab hold of my tongue. Not wanting to prolong this taste experience, I chewed the remaining tuna quickly; my mind conjuring up the memory of a beautiful, freshly made tuna sandwich on potato bread, with a nice thick pickle on the side. Once I was done eating, I noticed the bemused smile on Karen's face so I blew a breath of fishy air her way.

"Gross, Vie, just gross!" she said laughing while she placed the box on the ground and leaned against the truck with me.

"Why do you drink the water in the can?" she asked. "You know we have a full canteen."

I licked the remaining specs of tuna off the inside of the can before saying, "Water is water, I'm not going to waste perfectly healthy aqua just because it doesn't taste great." I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and tossed the empty can back into the box of our remaining food.

"I guess. Watching you drink it made me lose my appetite though."

I looked at the box of food. "You're just mad that we're out of ramen and pasta." I said mumbling my words into my sleeve, all too aware of how quickly a lack of comfort food could lead Karen to the brink of her stress levels.

I stood and lifted the box, "C'mon, I'm sure there's a gas station store somewhere on this road. Maybe I can find you some carbo-deluxe food there."

She smiled but diverted her eyes as I placed the box back in the trunk. If we didn't find any barely stale cupped noodles I would make her eat the tuna; stubbornness was no reason to starve. I'd long ago lost all ambition when it came to food - if it wasn't rotten I'd eat it.

I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled myself in. "Alright, let's see if we can't find somewhere close to spend the night also."

Karen nodded and started the car, the wheels softly crunching on gravel as she drove us back onto the highway. Laying back in my seat, I watched through the window as she drove down the winding empty road. Closing my eyes, I tried to get a few minutes rest, instead Karen's words quickly filled the lulling silence.

"Do you ever think we will find a place we can actually stay?" she asked.

I kept my eyes closed, "Maybe. Right now we need to just gather up as many supplies as we can and bide our time."

"What if we run out of gas?"

What if, that seemed to be her motto the past few months. It felt like recently Karen was depending more and more on me for emotional support and guidance on what we should do. While in the early months, Karen had no trouble dealing with stress, hard decisions were her forte; now she seemed withdrawn, exhausted by all she'd done to get this far.

"If we run out of gas then I'll convert the engine to wood power."

"You don't know how to do that," she clipped, her tone hinting at a return to moodiness.

"I saw it done on a TV show. People in resource-low countries do it to power their cars and homes."

"You'll just end up blowing up the car or us," she sighed, "but I guess if it's the latter, we won't have to worry about getting around."

Opening my eyes, I looked over at Karen, my face tensing as I worried; this made the second time today she mentioned us dying. Her expression was blank as she drove, her eyes glued to the road ahead. If she wanted us to die she could easily just drive us off the cliff: the thought of that made my stomach churn.

Pursing my lips, I asked, "Karen are you feeling-"

"Hey look, there's a gas station!" Karen said, cutting me off. She pulled the truck into an empty parking spot in the small lot.

My mind switched to focusing on our surroundings, making me look around us with suspicion, checking for signs of roamers. The lot had a stillness to it, besides the shrubbery moving with the breeze, nothing caught my attention. 

"Looks clean but the station could have a few stuck inside. Wait here while I check things out, okay?" I said, keeping my eyes open and alert for any sign of motion.

She smiled at me as I grabbed my machete off the floor of the vehicle and began to open my door.

"Wait, take your jacket and pack too," she said, glancing down at my stuff. "Ya'know, just in case you have to get out of there fast, I don't want you getting bitten."

"Um, alright." Following as she said, I pulled on my leather biker jacket and zippered it up all the way to my neck, next pulling on my mostly empty backpack. It was my bug-out bag, since we were short on supplies all it held were the few keepsakes I had managed to grab when fleeing my home.\

"You look like a total bad-ass with that jacket on! You're all decked out in leather," Karen said as she observed my leather pants and adjoining jacket.

All I was missing was a lit cigarette and I'd look like one of those sexy spies from the Bond movies. Before I could open my door  further, Karen leaned over the middle console and wrapped her arms around me, the sudden sensation of her cheek against mine sent shivers of discomfort through me. My body jerked as I tried to lean away from her but she clasped on, resting her face on my shoulder.

Her words came out soft, "I'm sorry I haven't been much help lately, Vie. It's been four months since I put you in a terrible... situation and yet you've stuck by me," she pulled away and locked her eyes with mine, "I've done so much terrible shit over the past year, most of it to protect us, some of it... I don't even know how I could have been so cruel in those moments, whether it was some un-lawed branch of strength or just... not caring.... Only caring about us," her bottom lip trembled, "I'm so happy I met you, Violet."

My chest felt tight as I pressed my palm to her cheek and held her face, "You are a good friend, Karen, we both have faults and have put each other in bad situations in the past. But we have an entire future to work with if we just keep moving forward. This is the apocalypse, the line between what is cruel and what it takes for you to live another day are blurred."

The car went silent, my own head was spinning with whether I was putting things too lightly; this world had no rules, but what about morals, trust, and the bond of friendship - it was too much history - too much to put into context and judge.

"Do you forgive me?" she mumbled, looking away.

My breath caught in my throat before I could reply with the words I knew she wanted to hear, the forgiveness I honestly couldn't give, at least not yet.

"What happened at Aloe Wood changed me, Karen, there's no going back," I pulled away from her, "I don't hate you, I love you... just, I need more time."

"I understand."

She rested her forehead against mine for a second, my eyes shut in reaction to her closeness. Here was a woman I had known for two years, that I'd trusted with my life countless times, I didn't mind being the one who now had to take care of the other. Being there for her gave me a goal, but it still took every ounce of control to not flinch away from her touch, how could she ask for forgiveness. 

"Be safe out there, Vie."

I nodded, my chest still tight, but as I stepped out of the car I slid into the routine of survival: scan, sniff, and slice anything that comes running my way. Holding my machete tight in my hand I scanned over the gas station; the power was out and a few empty cars littered the small parking lot next to the store. The air smelled like gasoline, a permanent stain on the surrounding area rather than a hint at any usable fuel; no trace of rot in the air, though that didn't always mean much. Karen waved at me through the windshield as I made my way slowly to the store. As I pushed the door open a small bell rang overhead, making me freeze in my steps and wait. The interior of the store stayed noiseless and I stepped inside after a few more seconds of listening. The windows in the front of the store provided just enough light for me to see the aisles clearly; most were bare but a few were stocked with average junk food and easy prep meals. I sniffed the air again, but the only scent I was able to detect was rotting food from the back coolers. Sliding my backpack off my shoulder, I began pushing random food items into the open pack with my machete, not caring what items I got. I was pleased as I scooped the last item into my bag - it was filled to the brim -more supplies than I'd hoped to find. Zipping it shut, I slung it back over my shoulder and adjusted to the new weight. My heart skipped a beat as I turned and saw a long box peeking out from behind the front register. I recognized the label immediately.

"Sweet preservative packed meat, my mouth has missed your delicious flavor."

My stomach growled at the sight of the jerky sticks, and my mouth filled with eager saliva. Led by hunger, I reached out for the box with my machete free hand. Just as I grasped the edge of it, a large pale hand took hold of my wrist. Surprised, I tried to step back, but my boot lost its footing on a wrapper and I slipped onto my back. The muscles in my arm screamed as the person holding onto my wrist was pulled up from behind the checkout stand and across the counter by my fall.

"Fuck," I gasped as I felt my shoulder dislocate from its socket. Pain shot through me like someone had shoved a knife into my arm, "Fuck fuck fuck!"

I was torn away from my line of curses by the tormented face staring at me from the counter. His eyes were sunken and blood shot, his thin lips revealing the stained teeth he undoubtedly wanted to sink into me. I glared up at the infected, who was still holding the bare skin of my wrist. Without hesitation I closed my eyes and brought my blade down through his arm, immediately feeling the hot splash of blood speckle my face. The muscles in my arm calmed as his hand fell from my wrist, but the ache of my shoulder still swelled through me. With his remaining arm the infected pulled himself off the counter. His body made a loud thud as he hit the ground in front of me. I pressed the steel toe of my boot against his bald head as his arm struggled to grasp my leg. His movements were slower now, his teeth grinded eerily against the store floor.

"You caught me by surprise, that's for sure," I glared at him as I spoke. "That isn't something I soon forgive."

Raising my blade once more, I slammed it down hard through his skull; the bone gave an audible crunch as it split open. His teeth stopped grinding the floor as a puddle of blood started to form around his head.

I scooted away from the blood and slowly got to my feet, still glaring at the zombies body. He was a mess of long healed over bite wounds, his chest puckered with shallow scarring. His legs though, were nothing but thin vessels of bone, only the smallest amount of body fat clung to his frame. He looked like a corpse, but it was haunting to know that he had been alive - well until the machete went through his skull - now he actually was a corpse. The strength of the virus his body held in him amazed me. The arm I had severed was only trickling blood now; through his thin skin I could see the knot of muscle that had formed around the wound like a tourniquet, even after death his body was still trying to preserve itself.

"Heal from this." I gave his still split skull a hard kick.