Chapter 3 - The Other Flesheaters
Walking exhausted Tamsin; the summer weather made her feel like she was trapped in a huge steamer. When she saw a small pond not too far away from the creek she had been following along, she decided to stop there for a break.
The pond had a very small dock, possibly for people who have lived in the house behind it to fish.
Getting down on one knee beside the pond, Tamsin looked around.
Several houses scattered on the fields a quarter mile away from her maybe, all old and very much worn out. On their porches there were chairs and died pot plants. One of them had a big chime hanging, but with it windcatcher gone, it wouldn't make any sound.
The houses were surrounded by miles of empty crop fields with greeds growing tall. A few of them though, had crops. One had corn, with long tassels on top of the plants. The one next to it had cotton with white, puffy bolls that could be harvested in days. The third one had some green things but she couldn't tell what it was from afar. She thought that it might be some sort of squash.
It was obvious that someone had been growing things here, possible living nearby, but that didn't interest her at all. She shrugged and cupped some water from the pond, ready to spray on her sweaty face. Before she did though, she heard something coming towards her.
She immediately ducked behind the bushes and pulled out her falchion, waiting.
The sound got louder and louder, and after a couple of minutes, a big tricycle appeared at the end of the dirt road she had been on. It had a large trailer made with bolted wood panels and metal bars hooked to its tail.
A man was riding the tricycle. His clothes were shabby, like it was made by some amatuer tailor from scratch. He had a baseball hat on; it was too soiled for Tamsin to see its color. A crossbow hung on his back, and a quiver of arrows hung on his belt.
He was humming some song while riding. Every time he pushed the pedals down, the chain connected the axis of the wheels would squeak. The squeaks got louder and louder, and he eventually stopped, only a few yards away from Tamsin.
He got off the tricycle, and Tamsin held her breath and lowered her body.
The man seemed to have not noticed her presence. He just got off the vehicle and bent down to fix the noise. After some fist banging and foot slamming, the squeaky noise disappeared. He got on the tricycle again and rode slowly uphill, towards the cotton fields.
Tamsin let out a deep breath, but she didn't come out from behind the bushes. She just waited quietly for him to go away for she had no intention to interact with someone else.
The tricycle took a sharp turn, exposing the trailer to her. A woman sitting on one side, a baseball bat in her hand. She, too, had shabby clothes like the guy riding in the front. Several dirty woven bags surrounded her, all full. Tamsin couldn't see the content in them at all, except one had a shoulder strap of some bag hanging out to its side, decorated with something blue.
On the other side there was a woman lying. Her body jolted slightly along the trailer. Tamsin couldn't see her face.
She didn't really care anyway. What did those people have anything to do with her?
Tamsin turned around to the pond. Before she reached down, she paused.
A baseball bat. She thought, and the picture of the woman lying in the trailer immediately entered her mind. The baseball bat had triggered some of her memories, which reminded her that the clothes of the woman lying in the trailer were surprisingly familiar.
Then it was the shoulder strap of the backpack. There had been something blue tied to it. Could it be a blue bowtie, the one she had seen several nights ago?
A backpack with one of its shoulder straps decorated with a blue bowtie. Maybe it was pure decoration, or it could make a regular backpack looking distinct among other bags. Whatever its purpose would be, it belonged to the woman she had rescued in the motorhome several days ago.
Bo. That was her name.
Tamsin rolled her eyes for remembering some stranger's name. Then she narrowed her eyes and stared at the tricycle.
The vehicle had stopped in front of the house right behind the crop fields. The man got down, then the sitting woman. They carried the third person into the house.
Maybe she was injured. They found her and decided to take her home and take care of her? She asked herself, and it was then she had realized that she was deeply concerned about the brunette's well being.
She shook her head, telling herself that she should leave. It was none of her business anyway.
However, before she have moved, Acacia's voice came to her vividly.
Always watch out for the zombies, Tamsin, but watch out more for humans. Sometimes they are a much, much bigger threat to you than the flesheaters. They are not just after your flesh. They are after everything.
Tamsin closed her eyes and sighed in frustration. She eventually took down her backpack and took out a revolver. She stared at the empty cylinder for a second or two, before she loaded it with the three bullets she had found in the dead body's gun the other day.
She took a deep breath, before she headed to the house quietly. All she needed was a glimpse of the inside through the windows. If everything was fine, she would leave in no time.
Tamsin circled around the wood spikes and barb wires that were used to keep zombies away, and entered the corn fields. She hid herself behind the tall stems until she was very close to the front gate of the house. Quickly moving herself into the shades of the trees on the side, she scanned the surroundings.
Her eyes fell on the gate first. It was closed and rusty as the fence which enclosed the house. She could see the front yard through the metal bars. There was nothing in there except a dog house. A broken collar was tossed outside, and a huge patch of dark stains was in front it. There was something small and pale in the middle of the stain, looking like a piece of bone or something. It was accompanied with a small cluster of dirty fur.
Tamsin decided not to think about what the stain was or where the bone and bur came from. She glanced at the house and saw the closed door.
She made sure that nobody saw her, before she moved to the other corner of the fence to check the tricycle which had been locked to the fence with a rusty chain lock.
She crouched down behind the trailer, and examined it. It was beyond filthy. The floor was covered in brown or maroon stains. In the center there was several spots of red liquid.
She carefully dipped her finger in one of them and smelled it. It was fresh blood.
So she was probably injure. She thought, but couldn't convince herself that those two people took Bo in because of that. Had she been injured to the point that someone had to carry her in, there would have been much more blood in the trailer.
Walking back to the front gate in stealth, Tamsin quickly reached to its behind and unlatched it.
Slowly nudging the gate open, she made sure that none of the hinges were making any noise. After there was enough space for her to go through, she stopped pushing the gate and stepped in.
As she approached the house, she noticed a nasty smell in the air. What is that? She wondered, covering her nose with the front end of her right sleeve.
She stood beside the front door, and pressed her ear to the narrow space between the door and its frame.
She could hear two people having a conversation inside, one female and one male. She couldn't hear a word of it.
Slowly and vigilantly, she moved along the walls of the outside of the house to the back. The closer she got to the backyard, the stronger that nasty smell became.
The moment she entered the backyard, she slammed her empty hand to her own mouth to stop herself from making any sound.
She figured out the source of the disgusting smell. It had been coming from a pile of heads in the far corner of the backyard. A pile of human heads, surrounded by buzzing flies, with bones scattered under them.
There must be dozens of them, carelessly tossed to the corner. Some of them had been so decomposed that there was little to no tissues attached to the skull. Others still had quite a bit flesh on, but the faces had either been cut or ripped to the point that Tamsin couldn't really see what they had looked like when those people had been alive.
Their hollow, dark eye sockets stared back at her, chilling her spine. The smell in the hot air made her feel sick. During the past ten years of chaos, she had seen a lot of horrible things, but this definitely was one of the worst.
Tamsin swallowed hard and forced herself to move. She slowly approached the back door. It wasn't locked, so she squeezed in.
The room behind the door was some sort of bonus room. There were two chairs under the window and a display case against the wall with porcelain sets, glass statuettes and dolls inside.
Tamsin headed to the room adjacent to this one. She had just laid one foot in the other room, a series of giggles came to her from behind.
Her heart had almost stopped, and she swung back with her gun pointing to the direction of the sound, but soon she realized that it was one of the vintages dolls that was on top of the display case.
"I love you. I love you," the doll repeated in a bland tone, which sounded extremely creepy right now. She had one eye blinking, but the other one seemed to have been stuck in the middle.
Tamsin hid herself in the corner, afraid that the doll's voice would draw attention from someone else in the house. However, nobody seemed to have noticed it, and after a while, the doll got quiet.
The conversation between the two people went on, and Tamsin walked towards it in great caution.
When she saw two figures standing in the kitchen counter, she quickly hid behind the couch in the living room and listened.
"This is the last time. Breasts are sure mine," the female voice came to her. It sounded a little agitated, definitely not Bo's soft voice.
"No, Mary. You can only have one. The other one is mine," the male voice answered her.
"Both of them are mine, George," the woman, Mary, hissed. "I spotted her first. I lured her into our trap. I should get the first pick.
"There ain't no first pick anymore, sweetheart. We split her half and half. Not a finger less, not a finger more," the man said firmly. He paused for a while, before he added, "I'll let you drink the first glass of blood, okay?"
The woman mumbled something too lower for Tamsin to hear, but she seemed to have agreed with George's proposal.
"Pull the grindstone over to me, will ya?" George pleaded.
Tamsin heard something heavy getting moved across the floor in the kitchen. Then, there was the sound of the grindstone sharpening a blade.
She couldn't help but peek out from the side of the couch. George was sitting on a chair, sharpening the blade, his head lowered and a set of butcher tools under his foot, including a bone saw. His crossbow was placed on the table right next to him. Mary was looking for something in the cabinets, her back facing Tamsin.
Tamsin frowned at the scene, because she saw no Bo nor other "she" in the kitchen. All she saw was a big room, two people busy doing their things, and a drawn curtain on the side. Above the drape, she could see a hook attached to the ceiling and ropes tied to it, but whatever below it was concealed.
Tamsin pressed her hand on the floor and moved out from the couch more, wondering if she should stay for more conversation, or go in now.
Before she had made a decision, Mary straightened her body with a big container in her hands. She put it down beside the drape, and pulled it open, revealing an unconscious, tied up and hung upside down Bo behind it.
Tamsin clenched her teeth, not to make a single sound. She moved back behind the couch, her heart pounding so loudly that she was afraid that one of them might hear it. She took a few deep breaths, before she slowly peeked out again while holding her gun tightly.
Mary picked up a knife. When she raised it and moved it towards Bo, Tamsin almost jumped out. However, the woman just cut the rope that was binding Bo's wrists together.
Tamsin frowned at that move, before she saw Mary pulling Bo's arms open and let them fall. Then, the woman put the container right under the brunette's head, for catching her blood later.
George was still sharpening his blade, and Mary bent down to grab the brunette's left hand. She raised her knife again, mumbling "let me cut off one finger and taste it first."
Tamsin knew either she make a move right now, or the brunette would lose a finger permanently. She jumped out from behind the couch and yelled, "hey, you freaks!"
George reacted quickly, throwing his blade away before yanking the crossbow to point at Tamsin. "Intruder!" He yelled as he fired the arrow.
Tamsin dodged to the side, before she saw Mary take out a shotgun and load it. Knowing that it would definitely kill her once it was fired, she rolled on her knee, pointed her revolver at Mary and pulled the trigger.
The bullet went right through the woman's forehead, making her head throw back abruptly. Mary's finger jolted, and the shotgun was fired, but since her entire body was tilting backwards, it went towards the roof.
With a deafening sound, a hole appeared in the roof. Shattered ceiling pieces fell between Tamsin and George. After both pausing for a split second, George went for the dropped shotgun.
He got it, but before he had it properly aim at Tamsin, the blonde managed to put a bullet in his right shoulder. He struggled to keep the gun in his hands. Cursing slangs were fired out from his mouth, one after another, some of which Tamsin had never heard of.
She really didn't have time to pay attention to them anyway. She dashed towards him and grabbed the shotgun. They battled with it, but Tamsin eventually pulled it out from the man's hand, and swung it at him. A hard blow with its butt, he was knocked out.
Tamsin had finally let out the breath she had been holding for so long. She swallowed her pounding heart back, and checked on Mary first. The woman was for sure dead.
Tamsin tied the unconscious man to the window bar with a rope she found on the floor. Then she quickly checked the others rooms of the house, and made sure there were no further threats. There were some supplies that she was interested in, but she knew she didn't have that much space in her backpack to hold them. So, she just took a box of shotgun rounds.
She came back to the kitchen again to untie Bo. Carrying the brunette on her shoulder, she grabbed the shotgun before she left.
"You heavy little pig," she murmured to the brunette as she walked through the front door, grabbing Bo's backpack on the way out. She headed to the tricycle, and threw the shotgun into it. Then, she bent forward a little, slowly putting Bo on the trailer and shifting her into a sitting position, before laying her down on the floor of the trailer.
She tilted her head and rubbed the side of her neck, before she picked up a rock and smashed the chain lock. She hop on the tricycle and rode away.
Overwhelmed by pain and tiresome, Bo used every bit of her strength to hold on to the only consciousness she had left. She tumbled in the endless tunnel of darkness, unable to breathe, move or speak. After what seemed to be eternity, she finally managed to pry her eyes open.
She pressed her hand on her bite wound, only to realize that the pain wasn't coming from there.
She groaned again, her throat burning. She tried to say something but her voice bubbled through her throat and became a series of meaningless murmur.
She arched her waist, shifting her body to roll on her side. A fluctuating, bright thing entered her vision as rolling heat greeted her.
After squinting her eyes for a few times, she eventually realized that it was a small cooking fire.
The soft crackles comforted her. She sprawled, panting while staring at the night sky.
Who lit the fire? She asked herself after a while, propping herself on her left elbow again. She narrowed her eyes and searched, until she saw the silhouette of a female figure across the fire.
"Kenzi…?" Bo blurted, yet immediately realized that she was wrong since the woman had blonde hair and was much taller than Kenzi.
"Wrong name," The blonde scoffed without looking at Bo.
Bo huffed out an embarrassed laugh, and eyed her closely. "Hey, it's you!" She beamed after she recognized her face. "T-Tamsin, right?"
Before the blonde had replied, Bo gasped because a spot on the back of her head suddenly pulsed in pain. She reached her hand to it, touching partially dried blood. She lowered her head while running her fingers on the edge of the bloody bump, carefully not to hurt herself. "Did I fall or something?"
Tamsin raised to look at her, her eyebrows furrowed. "Did I fall or something," she mimicked Bo's curious, soft voice. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I-" Bo murmured as she tried to recall what had happened to her. She had left the motorhome a few days ago, after the blonde had left. She had walked along the interstate, towards Creeksville. The weather had been unbearable, but she hadn't stop. Then, before the dawn this morning, she had taken a break on the side of the road. Someone had come to her.
"There was this woman," Bo murmured, scooting further away from the heat of the fire and closer to the blonde. "Old, well not too old, in her forties maybe? She came to me, asking for help and-"
"Let me guess," Tamsin interrupted her with a smirk on her face. "You were really that naive to believe her."
"Well..." Bo argued. "She looked like that she really needed help so...I followed her through the exit, and saw a big tricycle with a trailer in one of those abandoned gas stations. Then...we walked towards it, and...something hit the back of my head I guess..." She frowned for a while, before she asked, "did she hit me? She was the one who hit me, right?"
Tamsin shrugged. "How the hell do I know? I wasn't there. I didn't see shit, but hey, let's just say it was her, okay?"
"Why did she hit me?" Bo murmured. After realizing that she didn't remember anything after that, she asked Tamsin, "what happened?"
"Well, her partner and her dragged you back to their house and prepared to cook you. I convinced them that you wouldn't taste really good, so," Tamsin said, shrugging, "so, they let you go."
"What do you mean by cook me?" Bo asked, confused.
"Oh you know, they'd hang you upside down, and cut here-" Tamsin quickly brushed her index finger across her neck, "-and here-" she moved her finger along the length of her body. "After you blood is drained. They'd make some premium cuts out of you and-"
"That's insane!" Bo cut her off, jolting up. "And gross!" She added.
"I bet they wouldn't think that when they cook you medium well and munch you," Tamsin commented, making a teasing yummy noise before getting slapped by the brunette on her shoulder.
"They really wanted to eat me? They eat humans?!" Bo asked, unable to believe it.
"What, like you are really surprised," Tamsin mumbled. After realizing that the surprised look on Bo's face was truly genuine, she paused. "You've never heard stories about the crazies out there who slaughter and eat humans?"
"Of course I did, but I thought it was just...urban legends, you know, like sewer alligators or...or Slender Man," Bo said. "I didn't know they exist, because that's insane!"
"Well, cannibals have been walking among us for a very long time, sweetheart. And they sure have found their place in this damn apocalypse," Tamsin said.
Bo nodded. "Thanks," she told Tamsin. "For saving my life."
Tamsin shrugged. "Do you know why I saved you from them?"
Bo shook her head, too shocked by the fact that she had almost died to ponder the blonde's true purpose.
Tamsin leaned in, her eyes hiding in shadows. "Now I can have you all by myself," she whispered, her voice low.
Bo huffed out a giggle and rolled her eyes. After her giggles died in the air, silence devoured them. She lay there staring blankly at the fire while the blonde was reading the map, organizing things or getting water from the creek behind them.
After Tamsin came back with a mug of water, she boiled it on the fire. She added some thin twigs into it, before she asked, "where are you from?"
Feeling a little surprised that the blonde would be interested in that, Bo answered, "the ummm...the 4th settlement of New America."
"That's down in Mexico," Tamsin said, turning to Bo surprised, the reflection of the flames burning in her light eyes. "Why do you come all the way up here to Creeksville?"
"I'm looking for someone," Bo replied as she watched the water bubble.
"A bounty hunter huh?" Tamsin murmured as she crushed some hard tack with the butt of her falchion. She threw the crumbs into the boiling water and stirred it with a spoon. "You sure as hell sucks as a bounty hunter, sweetheart."
Bo rolled her eyes. "I'm looking for a friend of mine in Creeksville," she said.
Tamsin paused and huffed out a light laugh. "Whoever you are looking for is dead."
"She's not dead."
"Of course she's not, if you consider zombies as something alive," Tamsin drawled as she handed Bo the mug of mush.
Bo took over the mug and quickly scooped out a spoonful of food. The moment she shoved it into her mouth, she yelled "hot hot hot" with rapid pants, her tongue sticking out.
Tamsin couldn't help but burst into laughter. The brunette kicked her shin playfully, before she went back to eat.
"She's not dead," she slurred as she blew on her food in the spoon to cool it down.
Tamsin huffed. "Do you know that Creeksville is already a ghost town? I mean, humans have either left, been turned or been eaten. Even the zombies have migrated somewhere else because there are no raw steaks for them anymore. "
Bo put the mug down to let it cool. "I know," she said, "but I also know that she's there, and she's alive."
"Well, good luck then. I'm sure you'll find her in one piece," Tamsin said to Bo in a sarcastic tone.
"You don't even want to know why I'm so sure that she's alive, or who she is?"
"Do I look like I care?" The blonde replied with a smirk. To avoid further conversation, she leaned against a tree and closed her eyes.
Bo shook her head, before she devoured the mush. She felt drained, so she lay down. She fell asleep in seconds.