The Hunger's Howl Page 3

Twila had insisted on calling her mommy from the very first time they had met on that fateful day she had encountered Zac and Twila in her forest, escaping from the Ravers. The next day, Zac had disappeared and never returned. Scarlett found it difficult to stay mad at her, especially when Twila called her mommy.

  “All right then, show me your math homework.”

  “I started it. But Kitty wanted to play.”

  Scarlett frowned and shifted in her chair, knocking over something with her foot. It was a saucer of what looked to be milk. Had Twila given her make-believe cat powdered milk? The poor child was so delusional at times. Then Scarlett saw a plate of half-eaten fish. It was one thing for the child to play with imaginary friends, but not at the expense of their food supply. Twila had crossed the line this time.

  “Twila! You know how dangerous it is to catch fish.”

  The girl nodded, tears pooling at the edges of her golden-flecked eyes.

  “Do not play with our food supplies. Promise me,” Scarlett demanded.

  “What will Kitty eat?” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

  “No pets. Not while we live here,” Scarlett said firmly, careful not to raise her voice, which might alert any passersby.

  “Then I’ll give Kitty half my food,” Twila huffed.

  “All right, only when I’m here to supervise.” Scarlett only agreed to avoid the tantrum, which was sure to follow. Twila dashed to Scarlett and hugged her tightly. Jeez Louise, now I have an imaginary cat to take care of. “It’s high time you did all your homework,” Scarlett scolded, putting the dishes in the sink.

  Chapter 4

  Frustrated, Justin Chen tried the doorknob. Locked. “Ella, are you okay?” She’d been sick for days. “Let me in,” he said in exasperation. She had locked herself in her room and had even refused the chicken noodle soup. So not like her.

  “Go away,” she moaned from the other side of the door.

  “What did I do this time? Whatever I did, I’m super sorry,” he yelled through the door. He thought hard. Had he mentioned how much he hated the lime-green sweatshirt she’d been wearing lately? Or, maybe it was the gross casserole dish she had made for dinner last week. It so sucked. He was pretty sure he hadn’t said it out loud. Sometimes, things sorta slipped out. Like the time he had asked, “What happened to your hair?” He really hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. Ella’s super sensitive.

  “Say something. Anything,” Justin yelped. He pressed his ear against the door, waiting.

  “I never want to see you again. Ever!”

  Crash!

  An object slammed into the other side of the door, right where his ear was. He winced. “Wow, she’s PMSing big time.”

  “I can hear you—”

  Justin leaned back against the door and slid down to the floor. “I’m not leaving until you open the door,” he vowed with more conviction than he felt.

  It worked; the door opened.

  ***

  Justin paced the parking lot, waiting for Dean’s return. Dean and Luther were meeting with a new group of survivors they had encountered yesterday. Justin hadn’t gone because he didn’t want to leave Ella alone. He glanced at his watch, almost 4 p.m. Where are they? A set of headlights turned the corner. Justin sprinted to the gate, ready to open it.

  “You’re faster than all get-out,” Dean said while Justin quickly closed the gate.

  “Are they joining us?” Justin asked.

  “That’s a big N-o,” Luther said emphatically.

  “So, we’re moving in with them?”

  “Not likely,” Dean replied.

  “Guys, guys, what’d they say?” Justin was tired of everyone BSing him.

  “Son, they’re a bunch of Holy Roller fanatics. Think Elmer Gantry meets Gunsmoke meets Wagon Train all rolled into one twisted drama. Don’t think we fit their criteria.” Dean grimaced.

  “What?” Justin was super confused.

  “We told them we’d think about it. But, it ain’t gonna happen,” Luther said. “Think of it this way, a bunch of bible thumpers with a brand new religion makes them far more volatile than those stinking nimrods lurking the cities.”

  “Wow. They sound cray-cray,” Justin said.

  “They’ll be out of our hair soon enough. They’re gearin’ up for Texas,” Dean stated.

  “Get this.” Luther handed a pamphlet to Justin. “We can be initiated into their group if we follow the ‘Thirty-three Steps to Ascension.’ Yup, it’s all written here in their soul-saving pile of doggy do channeled by none other than the—”

  Both Dean and Luther looked at each other and continued in unison, “Omniscient slash omnipotent Father Jacob.”

  “Guys, isn’t Texas the only safe place left? Let’s just fake it.” Justin was suddenly anxious to leave for Texas.

  “Son, we’d be better off joining the Ringling Brothers.” Dean chortled.

  “Are they going too?” Justin was confused.

  Dean waved his hand in the air. “Never you mind.”

  “How are they getting to Texas?” Justin wondered.

  “Wagon train, plain and simple,” Dean said.

  “For real?” Justin gasped.

  “Yup.” Luther nodded.

  “What’s for dinner? By the way, how’s Ella feeling?” Dean asked as the three men walked through the maze.

  “Dean, I really need your advice,” Justin blurted.

  “Sure thing, son. After a full stomach.”

  “Uh, it sorta can’t wait,” Justin said with hesitation.

  Dean turned to him. “What’s the trouble? Did you and Ella have another argument?”

  Justin sighed in relief. “Ella’s acting all crazy.”

  Dean unlocked the resort’s front door. “The one thing you need to remember, women have hormones that make them . . .” Dean paused.

  “Act all crazy and shit,” Luther finished.

  “Not quite how I would put it, but that’s the gist of it,” Dean said.

  “So, what should I do?” Justin plopped into a chair and then slumped over the dining room table with his head in his hands.

  “Roll with it. It’s all we can do,” Luther said. “Dean, I’ll let you handle this one. Excuse me while I wash up.”

  “Reckon it means Ella’s still holed up in her room. Looks like it’s tuna and crackers again. Son, hurry and patch things up. I’m hankering a home-cooked meal.”

  “Ye-ah, it’s gonna be a while,” Justin groaned.

  “Now son, don’t go eggin’ her on,” Dean yelled from the kitchen. He returned with several cans of tuna and a box of Ritz crackers. “A man’s gotta know when to hold his tongue, particularly when it comes to the female persuasion.”

  “Uh, Dean—she’s pregnant.”

  “How the hell did that happen?” Dean gaped.

  “Like dude, you know—”

  “You got Ella pregnant?” Dean’s face turned a purplish-red.

  “Like we only did it once!” Justin said in his defense.

  “Didn’t your daddy tell you about the birds and the bees? It only takes one time,” Dean snapped back.

  “Ye-ah, we didn’t mean to. Honest. Remember the bottle of champagne I found? Well, we drank it. And, and, I started feeling you know . . . really good, and Ella started to—”

  “Spare me the details. How could you get our sweet, innocent Ella pregnant? I ought to skin your hide, boy,” Dean ragged as if he were Justin’s father.

  Luther walked in wide-eyed. “Ella’s pregnant?”

  “I’m in so much trouble. I promised I wouldn’t say anything yet.” Justin covered his face with his hands.

  “How do you know for certain?” Dean asked while rubbing his chest. A habit of his, Justin had noticed.

  “We found a box of pregnancy tests in one of the rooms. She’s super sure.”

  “How far along?” Luther asked.

  “Eight weeks.”

  “Well, there’s no gettin’ around it. We’ll need a doctor,”
Dean said.

  “Actually, we need a priest. We want to get married.” The words gushed out. Justin took a deep breath. There, that wasn’t so hard to say. Part of him was excited, and a part of him was petrified. He loved Ella. It was the baby thing that had him freaked. How the heck can I be a Dad?

  “All right, that’s do-able. Think I can talk one of those Holy Rollers into helpin’ us on that one,” Dean said with a hint of relief.

  “See, things aren’t so bad.” Luther helped himself to two cans of tuna and a sleeve of expired crackers.

  “She only wants a Catholic priest. And get this, first I have to convert to Catholicism,” Justin said somberly.

  “Convert from what?” Luther questioned.

  Justin shrugged. “Like, I’m not really any religion. My parents were Buddhists. Then my mom went all New Age. Guess I’m more New Age than anything.”

  “Hell, you should have just told her you’re Catholic. It would have saved us a lot of trouble,” Dean grumbled after finishing a bite of a tuna-topped cracker.

  “Dude, I couldn’t do that.” Justin ignored the tuna and crackers. He had completely lost his appetite.

  “Just a thought.” Dean frowned and scooped another glob of tuna into his mouth.

  “We’ll think of something,” Luther said vaguely.

  “It just so happens, Father Jacob is expecting us tomorrow. Didn’t want to turn them down on the spot,” Dean said.

  “Dean the diplomat,” Luther added.

  “Cool, what time?” Justin was ready to get it over with.

  “Better let Luther and I sort this mess out. They know us. We ought not mention a thing about the pregnancy,” Dean said, rubbing his chin.

  “Yup, they’re pretty damn conservative,” Luther stated.

  “Tell you what. Tell Ella everything will be all right. Let her know we’ve got a plan, and we’re happy for her and whatnot. Women need to hear that every now and then,” Dean said with a sadness in his eyes.

  Justin was relieved. Telling Dean that Ella was pregnant was like the hardest thing he had ever done, besides de-activating Zs. Well, not so much. De-activating Zs was way easier than dealing with Dean when he was pissed. But Dean had taken the news better than he had feared. Under his grumpy exterior, Dean was a big softy.

  Chapter 5

  Scarlett Lewis returned to the treehouse with three fish in the net. Recalling the Raver’s conversation from the other day, she hoped it was salmon. She really didn’t know much about fish other than what she had read in a fishing book from the bug out’s minuscule library. She left the fish on the first level and was about to give Twila the good news when the girl bustled over to her.

  “Mommy, Mommy, I’ve been waiting sooo long for you. I did all of my homework. Even the math.” Twila wrinkled her nose as if math tasted like her least favorite vegetable, peas.

  Scarlett nodded in approval. Twila was sure chatty.

  “Really, I did it all, ’cause I’m trying to be sooo good.”

  Twila usually had an ulterior motive for being “sooo good.” Scarlett held back her laugh.

  “I caught oodles and oodles of fish today,” Scarlett said cheerfully.

  “Yay.” Twila paused, and her face turned somber. “I promised Katie a special tea party for her birthday.”

  “Sure, honey.” Scarlett took off her vest, draping it over a dining room chair. Katie must be her new imaginary friend. It was the name inscribed in the Little House on the Prairie books she’d scavenged from an abandoned vehicle.

  “I need to make trumpets,” Twila announced as serious as ever.

  “What?” This time Scarlett couldn’t hold back her laughter.

  “We want to have a real tea party this time. With tea and trumpets. Like they do in England.”

  “You mean tea and crumpets.” Scarlett removed the clip from the 9mm, always careful around Twila.

  “That’s what I meant.” Twila made a silly, cross-eyed face.

  “Where did you hear of tea and crumpets?”

  “Everybody knows that,” she said as if Scarlett were the silly one.

  Life with Twila was always unpredictable. How had she survived without this endearing child keeping her sane since the pandemic’s desolate days?

  “Sorry, sweetie, I don’t have the slightest idea how to make crumpets.”

  Twila’s brows furrowed.

  “You know what’s even more fun than crumpets? Tea Party Biscuits and honey!”

  Twila’s eyes lit up. “Promise?”

  “Yes, loads more fun. I‘ll teach you how to make biscuits,” Scarlett decided. There were several boxes of Bisquick, powdered milk, and powdered eggs on the storage level. Perfect timing—Twila needed to be more self-sufficient in case the unthinkable happened to Scarlett.

  “When? When?” Twila was beside herself with excitement.

  “After I go over your homework. And, after you correct your mistakes,” Scarlett said encouragingly.

  Making biscuits would be a much-needed distraction, but she was running more on Twila’s enthusiasm. Besides, she couldn’t smoke the fish until midnight. With the cover of nightfall, there wasn’t much chance of anyone pinpointing the exact location of the smoked-fish aroma drifting through the forest.

  ***

  Scarlett stretched in her bed compartment and snuggled under several layers of blankets. The thought of lounging in bed all day sounded rather appealing. She had spent the wee hours of the morning smoking the fish and wasn’t ready to wake up. She casually opened the plastic shade to her portal-like window, similar to the kind used on commercial airlines. The sun poured in. What a lovely day.

  She looked about the cozy bedroom, which was on the third level of the prefab-modular bug out. It consisted of six narrow bunkbed compartments, each with a retractable curtain for privacy. Twila’s curtain was open. I’d better make breakfast. She glanced at the LED clock on the nightstand. “Jeez Louise, more like lunch.” She was such an awful mother for leaving Twila alone so often.

  Twila never seemed to mind too much. The girl was capable of entertaining herself for hours. It was a huge plus, considering they didn’t have any electronic devices to keep them distracted. Scarlett thought for a moment. Computers, laptops, tablets, computer games, and cell phones—that’s exactly what they had been: distractions. Keeping people preoccupied while the government had done whatever it wanted. Or not do a flippin’ thing. A flash of anger erupted over her. She hadn’t seen any sign of the government since the flu outbreak.

  After Scarlett dressed, she descended through the narrow hatch to the second level. The aroma of freshly-baked biscuits reminded her how hungry she was. Twila had made biscuits for her while she had slept. What a nice surprise. The dinette table was decorated with crayon drawings of brightly-colored fairyland pictures. In the middle of the precious drawings sat a plate of biscuits and a bottle of honey.

  “Jeez, the kitchen is an absolute wreck.” I’d better teach Twila to clean her messes. Scarlett drizzled honey over a luke-warm biscuit. “Thank you, Twila,” Scarlett said with a mouthful. She swallowed quickly. “Where are you? I’ve got a surprise for you too, sweetie.” After smoking the fish, Scarlett had been pleased to find the fish were indeed, salmon.

  Scarlett looked about the small kitchen and then to the adjacent sitting room. She waited for Twila to return from the compact-sized bathroom. Meanwhile, she thoroughly enjoyed the slightly overbaked biscuits, knowing they had been made with love and perhaps with an extra dash or two of salt.

  After several minutes, Scarlett realized Twila wasn’t in the bathroom. She quickly checked the patio off the kitchen where she had smoked the fish. No sign of her. Scarlett’s heart thudded with alarm. The balcony off the bedroom? She hadn’t bothered to check there, and she scurried up to the bedroom level.

  Twila wasn’t there either. “Where are you?” Scarlett calmed herself. She was probably on the supply level, looking for something new to play with. She scrambled down the next two
levels. Twila wasn’t there. That’s odd. The bottom-level hatch wasn’t latched. Had someone broken in and kidnapped Twila? As far as she knew, Zac was the only person who knew about this place other than the original owners, who hadn’t returned since she’d been living there.

  Scarlett stiffened. Twila was talking. She knelt to the floor, opening the hatch. She didn’t see her. Who’s she talking to? Scarlett didn’t wait to find out. She squeezed through the hatch and snuck down the spiked-tree.

  Twila giggled. “Would you like another crumpet?” Twila said in a formal almost-Brittish accent. “I’ll ring the servant.”

  Scarlett wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. Twila was in the midst of one of her make-believe tea parties. Outside! Jeez, she’s in for it. “Young lady, just what do you think—”

  The tree blocked her view, but she was relieved to find Twila sitting on the ground next to a cardboard box, which was partially covered with the pink sheet. Her Beauty and the Beast tea set sat atop. A pungent odor overwhelmed her nostrils.

  “Twila—” Her throat went hoarse, rendering her speechless. Scarlett stopped in mid-step. Across from Twila, sitting on the ground, holding a broken teacup, was a ragamuffin child. A girl, maybe five or six years old in need of a bath and fresh clothing. Scarlett stared at the child in disbelief. How did Twila find a friend in the middle of the forest?

  The filthy child’s head jerked in Scarlett’s direction. Their eyes locked. The unthinkable registered. That’s a, a creeper! It growled and pounced onto the tea party table, collapsing the flimsy cardboard box. The tea party objects bounced in the air like a bizarre scene from Alice in Wonderland. It perched on top of the caved-in box and glared at Scarlett with spittle spluttering between its teeth.

  “Twila, inside!” Scarlett reached for her gun. Damn, she hadn’t brought the gun.

  “Twila!”

  Twila froze as if mesmerized while the creeper-child’s head wobbled back and forth from Twila to Scarlett. “Shhh,” Twila warned.

  Scarlett eyed the ground for a weapon. Anything. Child or not, a creeper was a creeper, deadly, no matter what the size. Scarlett snatched a downed tree limb. It jumped in front of Scarlett. “Grr-ga-la.” It hissed as its head lolled about like one of those red and white fishing bobbers.