SOUTHERN COMFORT
Swamp Fever, Part Three
By the time Nick, Lily and Mo reached the safe room (because it was much further than Mo had made it seem), the sun was at its highest point in the sky. The hot air was cooking their wet clothes to a shell against their grimy skin, adding to their ever growing discomfort caused by injuries and mosquito bites, and the terrible heat and humidity. The peculiar little house was carefully hidden by the foliage, curiously placed at the outskirts of the abandoned town after a long stretch of dirt road littered with bodies the entire way. Its doors were replaced with enormous iron ones, its windows were barred, and even the roof had been effectively rigged with barbed wire lining. No words could express how grateful they were to finally reach a safe place, but the feeling waned as soon as they saw the remnants of the village and its futile attempt at barricading it.
The other survivors were already inside, and it appeared that they had bathed and received a new batch of clothing. Standing at the small stove in the even tinier kitchen was a beautiful redheaded woman, whom Ellis seemed instantly infatuated with while she cooked a can of beans. He leaned against the wall beside her and was blabbering something about his friend Keith and his near fatal attempt to deep fry a turkey that resulted in horrible burns over - fantastically - ninety percent of his body. For the most part, the woman seemed aloof about his obvious attraction, nodding every once in a while with a smile for emphasis as he spoke.
"Evangeline!" Mo suddenly cried, capturing her attention. He leaned over to Lily and whispered, "Dat's my cousin. She de one dat found yo friends an' brought dem here when we heard de aeroplane alarm goin' off."
When the woman looked up, she waved the wooden spoon in her hand in greeting of the others, flashing a smile that was considerably more attractive than her kinsman's. Her cheeks were lightly dappled with freckles, and her long locks were tied back in braids that rested on her shoulders. She wore cut off denim shorts and what seemed to be a rag (but was really a flannel t-shirt tied at her waist), and was barefoot, but her feet were strangely clean of dirt.
"Sorry, your wife?" Nick quipped sarcastically, who received no acknowledgment from Mo but was reprimanded by an elbow to his ribs from Lily.
"Ya almos' finished wit' dem beans? We got two mo' hungry moufs ta feed."
"Yes, Mo," she replied sweetly. "It's nice ta meet y'all. I hope ya don' mind can' beans an' grits? Is all we got."
"No, we don't mind," Lily responded, flashing a menacing look to Nick. "Thank you very much."
"Where's Coach?" Nick asked, peeling his blazer from his shoulders and tossing it against a wooden chair.
"Asleep," Rochelle replied from her position on the couch. Her eyes were beginning to drift shut. "He's in the bedroom."
"Sure, why not. Let the old man have the only bed left in Confederate America."
"Ya must be Nick," Evangeline said, through enthusiastic narrowed eyes and a smirk as she pointed the spoon at him and wagged it. "Ellis here was tellin' me all about ya."
For the first time since they arrived in the safe room, Ellis actually acknowledged their presence. He had been so enamored of Evangeline that he was completely oblivious of the others even as they conversed with each other until that moment. He took his hat from his head and sheepishly ran his hand through his sandy brown locks, his eyes twinkling with guilt and breaking their contact with the woman. He looked like a puppy that had just been caught pissing on the carpet, but was amazingly ignored.
"So, do y'all live here?" Lily asked, awkwardly standing in the center of the room beside Mo.
"Now we does," he replied, fetching a towel from a small cupboard and handing it over to her. "Last one. De udders are out dryin' on de porch."
"Thank you..."
"Ya welcome, ma belle. Ain't got no toilet d'ough."
He nodded toward the humble bathtub behind a wall, free of a door or any source of privacy aside from the ragged bath curtain hanging from the ceiling. She uneasily gave Mo a look that begged him for clothing, and with one of his irresistible toothy grins he nodded to a pile of clothes on the floor beside it. They looked relatively clean for the most part, and she was certainly in no position the argue such luxuries, especially when being deprived from them for so long.
"I can stan' watch if ya wants me ta, ma cherie."
"I'll be okay," she replied nervously, shrugging him off with a coy smile. "Merci beaucoup, Mo."
With that being said, she stepped behind the corner and turned the knob to run the shower. At the same moment, a cascade of miraculously clear water fell from the meek little shower head, raining against the tub streaked yellow from all the filth it had seen. She didn't even wait for the water to become warm (assuming that leisure was available) as she stepped into the lukewarm stream and allowed the water to drench her soaked clothes even further. With a sigh, her eyes fell to the current of blood and grime flow into the drain in endless surges, staining the tub more than before as it rolled away from skin and clothing. The shower was like ice battering the burns on her back, unraveling the gauze that had been taped to them until it was nothing but a soggy mess. She closed her eyes, allowing the vivid memories of the past two weeks to gush into the drain, mixed with the blood, swamp and faces of fallen humanity as she emitted one final heavy hearted sigh.
She stayed until the water ran comparatively clear, then shed her clothes and stopped the shower to stand naked in the tub. It was much less enjoyable than she would have expected it to be for not having the privilege for such a long time, but she repressed the depressing thought. She stood for a few moments, shivering in the swampy breeze that had gone unnoticed until that very moment. By the time she had finished, supper had been served for the second time. Everyone was standing around the table, eating from mugs and talking light heartedly to their new comrades, both of whom shared that same optimistic persona as Ellis.
And so it went, the survivors ate the bitter, butterless grits and canned pinto beans to their fill, fell asleep where they could be the most comfortable and allowed the daylight to run well into the night. Coach had been moved from his resting place by the smell of the food, and consequently was left to sleep on the sofa, leaving the bed for Rochelle and Evangeline. Ellis had fallen asleep at the table with his head propped up on his folded arms, snoring almost as heartily as Coach a few feet away from him. Only Nick and Lily were awake, separated by distance (as Nick was showering) and virtual silence. She drank deeply of an aged bottle of bourbon liquor she had found in a cabinet, seated on the floor next to the exit and stared out into the sky.
The enormous orb of a moon was at its fullest glow, casting an eerie but wonderful light upon the humble little village torn apart by the infection. No stars were visible above the treetops, and the breeze was virtually nonexistent, save for the occasional gust of sour smelling wind carried into the house. She traced her ink stained fingers along the words that she had made near the floorboards, sounding out the pathetic little phrase among the chaos of mournful graffiti that had already been scribbled all over the wall.
"I will miss you Nanan," she sighed, taking another long gulp from the bottle.
The sting in her throat slightly waned when Nick appeared beside her, absent of his trademark white suit and donning uncharacteristic old clothing to his obvious disdain. He had worked for hours to try and rid his suit of its stains, succeeded to some extent, and hung it outside to dry before he even bathed himself. His icy blue eyes caught the moonlight and sparkled oddly like gems in their sockets as he seated himself on the counter in front of her. His wet black hair fell around his face in soft curls until he pushed them back with a meaty hand still decorated with his famous gold trinkets. They watched each other for several moments, the tension between them like electricity.
"What?"
"Nothing," Nick said, his eyes never leaving her.
"The hell are you starin' at so intensely, Nick?"
"Where'd you get that whiskey from?"
Her words were starting to slur together in a tasteless mumbling, and the sound of it amused him to a certain degree. He chuckled inwardly, shaking his head at the woman who was hardly even such, barely appearing old enough to have a drink of that magnitude. She would be sick in the morning if not in a few minutes, and because of his knowledge of this, a tiny spark of sympathy ignited within him. Her eyes slowly traveled to the glass container wielded like a weapon in her hands, studying the golden liquid dancing in its confinement, and took another indulgent drink. He knew she wouldn't last very much longer in that condition, and would probably be laying unconscious before they could even finish their conversation.
"Found it," she replied, an impish grin playing at her pale lips. "Want some?"
He retrieved the bottle from her reluctant fingers, swallowing a generous amount in an impressive manner, and ignored the inevitable burn to set it out of reach from Lily. Something about the unfortunate soul of the native Texan endeared him unexpectedly, and was strikingly familiar, though he could not pinpoint the source. Her dark eyes glittered in their glossy state, expressing the sorrow that had been somewhat repressed until that moment of plain inebriation. They lingered on his frame for a few seconds, then crawled to the bottle of liquor beside him and finally settled back onto the moon.
"I'm goin' to sleep," Lily began, pushing herself to stand in a way resembling a newborn horse and hiccuping. "You ain't gonna size me up while I'm drunk."
"I was just looking at you, Texas," Nick replied softly. "Relax."
She stumbled forward, catching hold of the counter beside him and groggily raised her attention to stare into his face. The smell of the bourbon was more evident on her breath than the rotten stink of decomposing corpses outside, but for some reason, Nick was not repelled. He remained quite still and unscathed, just watching as the short woman commenced to making herself a bumbling fool. Her hair had dried into smoldering waves around her face now free of the caked on gore of the apocalypse, and for the first time since they met, he could actually see her.
"You goin' blind already, Nicky? I'm standin' right in front of you, you don't gotta look that hard."
She waved her hand in front of him for emphasis, only causing him to chuckle again and roll his eyes. He folded his arms against his chest, clearly amused at her behavior but somehow refraining himself from taking advantage of it. It was a feat he was not used to overcoming so quickly. Even when without warning she smashed her lips into his, with such passion that he could indisputably taste the bitterness of the whiskey on her mouth, he remained collected. The corn-wheat scent of her skin and hair somehow relaxed him enough to maintain his common sense and amazingly so, some respect for the girl. He peeled her little frame away from his, praying that she would by some miracle remain as calm as he was.
The effects of the liquor would obviously manifest, and would do so at that moment.
"What's the matter Nicky?" she purred, her voice rising in agitation. "I know your type. It won't mean a thing to you, and come mornin', I won't even remember. I'd say you've been dealt a fair hand."
"You don't know shit," he said, failing to sugar coat any part of the phrase. "You're wasted."
"Conveniently."
She leaned in for another kiss, succeeding in stealing the flavor of his lips once more, ignoring the scratch of the stubble that began to sprout from his face. Once again, he pried her away for the sole acknowledgment of the immorality of the situation. On any other day, he would have taken full initiative and done exactly as she had described, but at that moment everything was different. To him she was but a child throwing a tantrum, and her actions supported the notion brilliantly; additionally, his sympathy for the girl outweighed any lust that might have existed anytime prior.
"Be quiet, Lily."
"So you do know my name! I reckon that's the first time you ain't called me Texas. You bastard."
Her hand didn't even reach her intended target as she fell limply off to the side, caught at the last minute by Nick's forearm before she could smack her head on the ground and increase her stupidity. She remained at that awkward angle, her eyes closed and body unresponsive as he uncomfortably handled her. Unsure of what to do, he placed her on the ground to sit against the wall, backed away and retreated to the only corner left in the entire house. The sound of her head hitting the door and a soft groan was the last thing that pulled him into his much needed rest.
The explosions of gunfire and wild cheering is what snapped them all simultaneously awake. Ellis flipped backward on his chair, falling straight to the floor in a bewildered heap; Coach practically leaped from the sofa through the wall, grabbing at his hunting rifle with crazy eyes; Rochelle and Evangeline concurrently screamed from the bedroom while Nick and Lily were startled from sleep. Mo was nowhere to be seen until his bronze silhouette sailed across the span of the windows, a rifle hoisted against forearm as he shot and jumped around in every direction. The telltale squeals of dying infected immediately alerted them of the situation, but it seemed to be under some control.
"Va-t'a la merde!" he cursed, blasting an unseen victim away with a round from his weapon and whooping with laughter.
The pale blue glow of approaching dawn outside shrouded him in a generous white mist, almost working as a curtain while he cheerfully danced around and annihilated the pitiful infected. The others all watched with mixed emotion as he blasted and reloaded periodically, and when the firing stopped, he turned to gaze through the gaps in the exit door at them with a grin. His gold tooth sparkled almost as brightly as his eye while he made his way back to the safe room, not a single drop of blood on his clothes.
"Wakey wakey, ladies," he said in a singsong voice, crouching by the dump of ammunition beneath a table to reload his gun. "Dem zombies gettin' smart. Dey be comin' from everywheres."
"I reckon we ought to get movin' then," Ellis said, not before bidding a sweet good morning to Evangeline.
"Boy, you are crazy," Coach muttered to Mo, who snickered enthusiastically. "Givin' me a heart attack. I'm too old for this shit."
"Let's get a move on, everybody," Rochelle stated, the hesitation in her step matching their reluctance to leave. "How long 'til we get out of the swamp, Mo?"
"Ain't got a damn clue, mon amie."
"Morning sunshine," Nick said to Lily, who was recoiling from the light and sounds of the scene as she staggered to get up. "You look like crap."
She didn't respond to his remark; as a matter of fact, she refrained from speaking at all as they searched the abandoned shantytown. Just as Nick had expected, she appeared to be feeling incredibly ill and the only sounds that did come from her mouth were dry heaves and haphazard moans every so often. On the bright side, she didn't weigh the group down much more than the swamp or its uninhabited village remains did.
"That is a shit ton of bodies," Nick remarked remorsefully, walking past an enormous fenced in pile of corpses of humans and animals. "Looks like we found Village des Marais."
"I heard of animals getting infected, but these don't look like they even put up a fight..." Rochelle murmured.
"So they just killed 'em all?" Ellis said softly in bewilderment.
"Better safe than sorry, I guess."
"Y'all show some respect lookin' for supplies," Coach ordered, his attention falling away from the grave site. "Although it don't look like we'll be findin' much in this place."
"Ya'd be su'prised," Mo responded lightheartedly, passing him up to run straight into a cloud of fog. "Us Cajuns be smarter den we look!"
"Hope you're smarter than your grammar," Nick muttered in addition.
"Cool it, Nick."
"Just sayin'."
They split up in couples, with the exception of Mo, to raid the tiny village with little success of finding useful supplies. It appeared that either the villagers packed up what they had and left, or the town was looted clean by other survivors passing through. Either way, they all continued forward until they met up in the tiniest of all the ramshackle huts, stranded by a bridge that would inevitably summon a horde from nowhere if lowered. The little shack had no light but bore a chest brimming with explosives, which Nick came across with much enthusiasm and distributed among the others.
"Damn," he said, grinning. "I'll give the hillbillies one thing. They're damn good at making stuff to blow shit up with."
The still night air was interrupted by a terrible screeching of rickety mechanics at work as Ellis pulled the handle and lowered the path to the other side. The others all held their breath for a few seconds before the sound was joined in by agitated cries of the infected, and finally, hundreds of bullets being fired into the rapidly approaching crowd. The survivors had positioned themselves in every open angle of the shack, opening fire so aggressively that it caused the hut to shake with recoil. Adding to the trauma was the weight of the zombies climbing around all over, forcing the survivors to blast their way across the wobbly bridge, only to be stuck in the house at the other end.
"Fire in the hole!" Nick shouted, tossing one of the many blinking pipe bombs into the heart of the horde.
Immediately, the curious infected changed course and flocked to the explosive like flies on waste. For several minutes they remained there, attacking each other in the process of getting to it first. The survivors were thrown against the walls as the shock wave by the blast sent bits and pieces of zombies flying through the air in a rain of swamp water and gore. The planks of the shanty house splintered with impact, and as they continued to fight the second succession its unreliable foundation began to sway.
"What the hell is that?" Rochelle said, shining her weapon's attached flashlight into the woods beside them.
"Hey look out!"
A dozen mud ridden forms of infected were crawling over logs and fallen trees, splashing through the muck and charging them at incredible velocity. They weren't standing upright, either. Before Rochelle could alert the others of the new enemies or even fire a successful shot, the Mudmen stampeded the shack with a solid slam. They seemed to be working as a pack and planned to crush the survivors inside, causing them to stumble around while the wooden beams rocked violently.
"The fuck... ?"
Nick's sentence was never finished as the survivors were bombarded from every direction by the onslaught of infected. Another slam to the side of the shack knocked Coach and Evangeline to the floor, and the others were restrained from helping them back up by a swell of zombies that immediately swarmed them. Ellis, a new found rage blazing in his eyes, tore zombies to pieces with his rifle in a blind frenzy as he fought to get to the woman's side, and when he had reached her, proceeded to help her up in one impressive motion.
"We need to get out of this hut!" Rochelle demanded, fighting to maintain her balance as the floor trembled beneath her.
"Go, I'll cover you!" Lily suddenly said.
She unsheathed her machete and with optimal precision, began crazily hacking away at the swarm pouring in from all sides. The others instantly ran forward, blasting a path of crimson that granted access to another house, a little bigger than the one before. Lily retreated after them, powering over the plank bridge and joining them inside, only to find that the wave of infected still hadn't ceased. They had simply reached another section of the village, and this one was much larger. To add to their distress, zombies were still chasing them from the direction they had just come from, including the Mudmen.
"Go, go, go!" Mo shouted, urging the survivors to cross on the rooftop of a submerged house.
Splashes and grunts resounded behind them as they powered through the rickety houses, disappearing into the fog that had hidden away the watery ground below. Their boots sank in the ankle deep muck that fought to hold them down as they continued forward, their peripherals catching the quickly approaching shadows from every direction. Ellis was the first one to go under, his foot having been snagged by one of the agile Mudmen covered by the mist. He fell to the watery floor with an almost soundless impact, clawing desperately at the mud as he began to slide away.
"Help!" he cried. "They got me!"
Amazingly, damsel Evangeline was the first to run to his aide; her inability to shoot a gun half her size was masked by the temporary veteran's expertise given to her by her fury as she fired at the Mudmen and freed him. She didn't, however, help him to rise to his feet as she continued to shoot behind him, raining a muddy shower of their remains on him as Mudmen fell in her line of fire. No more time was wasted as they bolted to rejoin the others, reduced to standing their ground on a plank bridge a little sturdier than the housing foundations. It was then that Ellis spotted the familiar bloated figure waddling its way toward his friends.
"Boomer's girlfriend! Boomer's girlfriend!"
A deluge of green bile alerted them of its presence before Ellis could, and by the time he and Evangeline reached them, they were entombed in an enraged mob of infected. To make matters worse, the inflated creature had decided to remain near them like a spectator instead of running away. Shooting it would either cause them to fall off the pathway, drench them further in its vomit, or both. The painful cries of his swarmed comrades caused him to act quickly: he fired two shots from his rifle and the blast shook what seemed like the entire village. Fortunately, the impact separated the zombies from his friends and none of them had fallen from the bridge, just been soaked in slime.
"My. Fucking. Suit." Nick growled.
"Grenade!"
Another one of the pipe bombs sailed through the air and landed in the marsh below with a faint splash. The zombies charged from every direction, engulfing the blinking light in their mass as the survivors immediately took advantage of their breathing room and took cover in the shack at the other end of the plank path.
"I think that was Mama Rosie," Evangeline said as they passed the remaining chunk of the fat infected.
"Come on, darlin'," Ellis replied, taking hold of her hand and breaking out into a jog to cross the bridge just as the bomb exploded.
A/N: This chapter was more of a filler... I apologize for the weird update schedule and the repulsive broken French (it's hard to spell out Cajun Creole), I've been suffering from a severe case of writer's block and work hours. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and THANK YOU to my faithful lurkers & Creepbox for keeping this going :)