Part Two

It was often said that Calvin Matthews was a smart man. When he’d run out of ammo during the first wave, Calvin hauled ass back to his house instead of making a vain last stand. He packed ammo in his basement while a horde tried to claw into his house, and he used an axe to cut a hole through the roof in the attic, allowing him to move outside and take potshots at the horde until every last zombie was dropped.

But Calvin’s real stroke of genius was to use his truck’s final reserves of gas to haul four gas powered generators to the Brown’s grocery story. Setting the generators up behind the store, he was able to keep the building, and thus the freezers powered continuously. He claimed the job of keeping the generators running as his primary function, and he took control of the store as his private property. Looting stopped overnight. The town council formed around Calvin the next day, and he was the only man on the council of six “town elders.” (No one in the town proper was older than fifty-six.) He was also the youngest council member at thirty-three.

Officially endowed with governing powers, Calvin asked the remaining survivors to make work crews to siphon tanks of unused vehicles, creating a steady fuel supply. Days later, groups of women showed up at the market to offer help in rationing the remaining stocks. Then others showed up to barter with food and items from their farms.

The market was the only building in Natalia which had power all the time. Keeping the freezers running became a high priority, and everyone siphoned their own vehicles. Then they helped to drain the tanks at every filling station near the town.

Food, fuel, and supplies were the currency of the day, and everyone found things to bring in for trade. A raid on a dead family’s home could yield hundreds of useful items. Gas and diesel fuel were drained from every vehicle, and even the oldest oil and the weakest car batteries were taken in. Inside the houses, people took dried goods, clothing, linens; everything was stripped to be swapped for a tab with Calvin. The reason was simple: a running tab allowed people to rent space for their meat in the deep freezers.

So with one clearly self motivated act, Calvin consolidated a base of power in the new world using only a few watts of electricity.

But then, his sway with the council was also helped by being his charming as well as roguishly handsome. It was hard not to like a ruggedly built man tanned a deep bronze. His shaggy chestnut brown hair and clean shaven face –a rarity in the post zombie days– had caused many flutters in Catherine’s heart.

And when Catherine and Maggie walked into the market that day, Calvin looked especially handsome with the bright smile he wore.

He was always friendly to Catherine because of her role as a zombie killer, and for every kill she claimed, he added more credit to her tab. He never asked for proof, and when she offered to provide it, he said he didn’t believe she was capable of lying. The compliment caused her to blush for two days.

Calvin waved them toward the customer service counter. “Ladies, you have great timing. I was just about to tell Rosalyn about a new shipment we got in…from the Mexicans.”

Rosalyn shot a dirty look at Catherine before she walked away from the counter, but both Catherine and Maggie were oblivious to the drama queen’s departure.

“Real Mexicans?” Maggie asked.

Calvin guffawed, his brown eyes gleaming with good humor. “Are there other kinds?”

“Sure there are.” Maggie shrugged her bag off of her shoulder. “We’ve got lots of Texas Mexicans here already.”

“Nah, these three big hombres came in from Mexico this morning, and you won’t believe what they used to haul their supplies here.”

“Mule train?” Maggie guessed.

“Nope, they were in an old style stage coach with a team of ten zombies pulling the harnesses.” Calvin paused to shake his head at Maggie’s peal of laughter, his expression becoming disgusted. “It’s not quite so funny. They have a crate of Chihuahuas, and they’re bleeding them out in front of the zombies to keep them moving forward.”

Maggie laughed again. “Now those are some sick bastards.”

“Wait until you hear what they brought before you judge them. We now have a bulk surplus of corn meal, sugar, and coffee.” Calvin grinned at Catherine. “I know you’ll want all three, but there’s something I want to tempt you with. Call this a free sample.”

He leaned over to open a cabinet, taking out a cloth sack. Inside were several links of dried sausage. From his back pocket, he drew a folding knife and flicked it open before he cut a slice.

Peeling away the skin, he laughed and held the meat in front of Catherine. “Say ‘ah.’”

Blushing instantly, Catherine let him feed her the slice and hummed her approval. “It’s–” She paused to lower her voice. “It’s really good.”

“That’s rabbit sausage. Some of the boys in Lytle have got a smokehouse running again.”

Maggie bit into a slice of the sausage and nodded her approval. “That’s not bad at all. When you say boys, do you mean ‘good old boys,’ or-”

“No, Mike and Joey Cooper are boys. Mike is the older brother. He’s seventeen.”

Catherine almost choked on the sausage. “R-really?”

Calvin chortled at the eager tone in her voice. “Yeah, but I also hear he’s got a long line of suitors. Competition is fierce for guys these days.” He made a show of buffing his knuckles on his shirt. “With men being outnumbered, even I’m a hot property now.”

“Sure, but you were hot before…” Catherine trailed off and looked at the counter.

Despite being the “big bad zombie killer” of the town, she still couldn’t talk to anyone besides Maggie without feeling awkward. She’d been shy before the zombies showed up, and having a reputation as a cold blooded killer only made talking harder.

Calvin took her compliment humbly and raised his hand to pat her arm. “I’m already taken, honey. But don’t worry. I know you’ll manage to hunt down someone.”

Maggie burst into laughter. “That’s what I keep telling her! We should go hunting for men. We can make a complete role reversal and club men and drag them back home.”

Calvin shook his head, favoring Catherine with a fond look. “Cat won’t need a weapon. Once she finds her man, she’s going to charm the pants off of him.”

“Oh look, the town psychos showed up.”

Calvin’s smile fell as he turned to look across the store toward Lacey Burke while she stepped out of the freezer. The rail thin thirty year old blonde was Calvin’s significant other, and she was one of the first women to volunteer to work at the market.

In spite of her dislike of Lacey, Catherine couldn’t say anything to her either. But Maggie wasn’t feeling quite so shy. “Town psychos? That’s funny coming from the town slut.”

Lacey bristled and strode through an aisle to confront Maggie. “What did you say?”
She held up a meat hook in a menacing gesture, and Maggie’s smile grew. “You aren’t deaf. Put the toy down unless you want me to use it on you.”

Calvin sighed and raised his hands “Ladies, please-”

“Ha!” Maggie snorted. “You can’t call your bed buddy a lady.” She shoved Lacey back with one hand. “The only reason she isn’t dead is her habit of staying on her knees.” She paused while several neighbors in the store tittered. “And everyone knows I don’t mean your prayers to Mary Magdalene.”

Lacey flapped her arms at her sides while she stared at Calvin with bulging eyes. “Are you just going to let her say that to me?”

“Honey, she’s a paying customer and a zombie killer. We kind of need her.” Calvin slouched over when Lacey huffed and stomped outside. “Yep…there goes my night.”

Maggie sniggered. “I doubt it. She’ll be thinking about sex again in fifteen minutes.”

“True.” Calvin sighed and turned to smile at Catherine. “So, have I tempted you?”

“Huh?” Catherine blinked before her memory clicked back to the rabbit sausage. “Oh, yes, I’ll take a half pound of the sausage. I’ve killed twelve zombies this week.”

Calvin walked across the customer service booth to grab a clipboard. “Slow week?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve brought some items to trade instead of using my credit. I’ll need a pound of coffee, and…do you have any bread?”

Calvin cringed. “No, you’ll have to make do with cornbread.”

Catherine feigned a pout. “Well it’s not very good with peanut butter.”

“Sorry Cat, but I’m out of that as well. I’m expecting a shipment on Friday.”

Catherine finished ordering items and traded her supplies. The women working the market brought her order to the counter for her, and she took out her bags to pack everything. She left the three full bags sitting by her scythe at the front of the market.

Like most people, Catherine hung out in the parking lot to see which deliveries would be arriving. A crowd of thirty-five women stood outside talking among themselves while children of various ages played around the empty parking lot.

Everyone was armed with some kind of bladed weapons. Most of the children had knife sheaths strapped to their legs. Women usually carried machetes and axes, though some women also carried firearms as well. While the tones of most conversations were relaxed, all of the women cast occasional glances around to make sure no zombies had shown up.

Gathered in a separate smaller ring, a group of men sampled their attempts at home brewed beer, which sometimes resulted in much spitting over bad batches. None of the men were drunk, and all remained equally alert for signs of trouble.

Maggie drifted around to keep connected with the latest gossip, and Catherine wandered to the edge of the crowd to watch the street.

“Cat, dear?” Catherine turned and nodded to Rita Alvarez, her old math teacher. Rita reached out to settle her boney hand on Catherine’s forearm. “How have you been?”

Catherine tried to make a strained smile. “Oh…mostly alone.”

“You haven’t tried walking to one of the other towns?” Rita smiled when Catherine shook her head. “You know, I’ve heard there are a lot of kids your age in Lytle. Maybe instead of walking here, you could try the Ramos market.”

“But it’s closer to walk here.” Catherine shrugged. “Maggie likes coming here, and Calvin gives me credit on my supplies because of my patrols.”

Rita nodded. “Still, you might try making a trip there some time. I hear there are some nice boys in Lytle, and you’re too pretty to be alone.”

Catherine smiled meekly. “I might think about it later. Thanks.”

She wandered away and tried not to blush, but she could guess some of the new rumors were probably about her. With no TV or internet connections, most of the women reverted back to gossiping as their main form of entertainment. And in Natalia, Catherine was usually a hot topic. She was weeks away from turning eighteen, and it seemed every busybody in town knew she was feeling “hot to trot.”

Around three in the afternoon, the sounds of hooves clopping on pavement brought everyone from out of their socializing. Several minutes passed before two mules pulled the flat bed trailer heaped with cloth bags and plastic and metal barrels into the parking lot. The metal barrels were likely fuel for the generators, as they sat at the far end of the trailer away from the foodstuffs.

Sitting atop two of the plastic barrels near the front of the trailer were Emmit Capwell and his partner, Florence Douglas. Emmit and Florence were both built thick and tall, but Florence had four inches of height over Emmit. She also outweighed him by fifty pounds, and of all the people in the area, Florence was the only person who scared Catherine.

Most people were intimidated by the red skinned woman, who wore her blonde hair in a short buzz cut. Florence was a weightlifter, and in place of breasts, she had a set of thick pectoral muscles. The tops of her rigid pecs were exposed in her green lycra top, and she almost looked like she was posing for a competition even though she was sitting in a relaxed position with a dual edged sword propped on her lap.

Emmit looked almost as muscular, but he was just the driver. Florence wore the weapons in the “family.” The term was a joke, since Florence and Emmit were both gay.

While Florence seemed to be the perfect classification of a “butch” lesbian, Emmit was nothing at all like a stereotypical gay man. He was tall, built like a linebacker, and spoke with a booming baritone voice.

His day long rides in the trailer gave him a dark ebony color to match his eyes, and he kept his long, cornrowed hair flattened against his scalp by a blue bandana. He usually wore a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off to expose his thick arms, and many women commented what a damn shame it was Emmit wouldn’t at least “bunt for the other team.”

Florence was the closest compromise Emmit would make, and it was doubtful they would ever get around to having children when they both sneered at the idea of “giving in to breeder logic.” Not even the end of the world could change their orientation.

Emmit waved to the crowd, and as soon as the trailer had pulled to a stop, he began his spiel: “Good afternoon, ladies and drunks!” He grinned at the men who began to yell weak insults while they flipped him off. “Today, I’ve got flour, cracked corn, oatmeal, fresh french bread from missus Feeney, and sourdough loaves from the Ross family.”

He stepped off of the trailer and walked to the back to unpack a dolly while he continued talking. “The Ross family would like to remind you that they will make cakes and peanut butter cookies upon request in exchange for any fresh meat you can provide. I’ve also got  milk, vegetable oil, and cream from the Ramirez farm. The farm also has a dozen goats ready to slaughter. Florence has your tabs, and she’ll be taking special orders for meat, cakes, or medications. If you’ve got trades, please wait until after we’ve unloaded.”

During the next hour, supplies were traded back and forth, and Emmit and Florence departed with their trailer almost as full with new supplies as it had been when it arrived.

Catherine used much of her credit to stock up on cracked corn and oatmeal for her animals, and she returned to her bags to pack the purchases. She gathered up the six bags –not including her full backpack–  before she trundled outside to look for Maggie.

Another fifteen minutes were wasted on listening to Maggie gab with a pair of older women, but eventually everyone started to make their farewells before they began their trips home. Another Tuesday at the market passed without event, and until Friday, Calvin wouldn’t open the store again. He ran the store two days out of the week, and because of the short hours, the market became both a shopping center and a community center.

Catherine was stirred from her thoughts when Maggie declared “You could kill her.”

Spinning her head to stare at the old woman, Catherine frowned. “Kill who?”

“Lacey. You could kill her and take Calvin for yourself.”

Catherine watched Maggie with an uncomfortable expression for several seconds before shaking her head. “That’s a stupid idea. Calvin would never forgive me.”

“You think he loves her? He just puts up with her because she puts out.”

Catherine sighed. “I’m not going to kill Lacey. If you dislike her, you can kill her.”

Maggie made a half shrug and changed topics. “Rita came and talked to me about you.”

Catherine shook her head again. “We’re not going to Lytle either.”

“But it’s only four and a half miles,” Maggie said, huffing at Catherine’s silence. “You know, I’m only fifty-two. I can still find someone if there was anyone my age interested in me. We know there aren’t any guys-”

“It’s closer to six miles for us, Maggie. You don’t run anywhere, so that’s a long, long walk before we get to a town where we don’t know anybody. What should we do? Stand in the market with a sign that reads ‘Free sex?’”

Maggie winced and made a tiny laugh. “Maybe we could go with something more subtle, but we could try taking a load of supplies to their market. Lytle runs their markets on Mondays and Saturdays, so we could try to gather up a big load for this…zombie dogs.”

Catherine dropped her bags and raised her head. The street ahead was blocked by four black dogs with clumped fur. They all walked with a slow limping pace, but they didn’t appear to be suffering from more than a few weeks of decay. While the four dogs were large, they weren’t much of a threat on their own. But zombie dogs rarely traveled alone.

Catherine slipped off her backpack and set it down before she untied the cord locking the scythe in place. Drawing her weapon, she moved away from her supplies and turned away from the dogs to check the other end of the street.

Maggie tapped Catherine’s back then pointed to the girl sitting in front of the double wide trailer on the east side of the street. “Isn’t that Sandra’s daughter, Simone?”

Catherine watched the girl hunch over while she ate from the midsection of a squirrel.  Catherine flicked her eyes back toward the dogs. In her brief inspection, she’d spotted the ragged bite marks in the girl’s throat. It was hard not to notice because every chunk of flesh she bit off the squirrel fell out of the wound to land on her blood stained skirt. Catherine wondered if Simone would keep trying to pick up the pieces to put them in her mouth, or if she would stuff the meat down her throat instead.

The dogs were within striking distance before they attempted to move with a faster speed. They leapt in unison, and Catherine stepped to the outside of the group toward the left while Maggie shifted to the right.

Slinging her scythe, Catherine sliced the point through the skull of a Doberman. She continued her swing, prying the top of the dog’s skull away while a thick Rottweiler turned and tried to leap at her again. Catherine struck the dog’s snout dog with the back end of the oak shaft, shattering its nose. The dog flopped onto its side, and she turned the scythe in another quick spin to drive the blade through the mouth and into its brain.

Twisting the scythe free, Catherine turned to look for the other two dogs. Both laid headless on either side of Maggie, who took a rag from her hip pocket to clean her saber.

“Who’s doing the kid?” Maggie asked calmly.

Catherine glanced at Simone, who had indeed begun to pick up the chunks of flesh from her lap, attempting to eat them again. “I’ll do it. I killed her mother already.”

Catherine moved closer and sidestepped around to get in front of the child. Only then did she see why Simone needed to hunch over so far. Most of her abdominal wall was missing, and only a few stay bits of intestine hung out of the wound.

Raising the scythe, Catherine cut down Simone, who never looked away from her meal. The image of the brainless child trying in vain to feed haunted Catherine, who wondered if she was also doomed to meet a similar fate. Lost in her troubled thoughts, she heard very little of Maggie’s rambling while they finished walking home.

The sun was sitting just above the horizon when Catherine unlocked her door and dropped her bags. Though she was exhausted already, she needed to take the animals outside to let them eat something besides oatmeal and cracked corn.

While the animals meandered around the side yard, Catherine sat in the grass and cleaned her scythe before using a wet stone to grind out the nicks in the edges.

She let the animals roam until the sky dimmed, and after guiding them back into the house, Catherine gathered a fresh supply of candles and wood from the old kitchen. She took them to the bathroom, lighting a row of candles before she returned to the front room to gather her supplies. She went to her bedroom door and bolted it, and with her mind put at ease, she returned to the bathroom to finish the last of her chores.

Her supplies were put away under the bathroom sink before Catherine cleaned the counter and set out a knife along with one of the links of dried sausage. She added several thick slices of the meat into the beans before she set up a bundle of wood in the barbecue grill and unbolted the window.

Keeping the fire small, she cooked the beans and meat slowly to let the flavors mingle. When the smoke started to thicken, she sat on the rim of the tub and waved a folded sheet of paper to fan the smoke through the window. After the water reached the boiling point, Catherine opened the former medicine cabinet to take out her spices and season the broth.

The scent of mesquite smoke was blending with the cooking meat and spices when Catherine heard a hoarse cry. Stepping over the tub to lean out the window, she heard the low shout again. She frowned and glanced back at the fire uncertainly, deciding to leave it burning while she went to the bedroom to unbolt the door.

Outside on the front porch, she could hear the voice more clearly, and she knew the boy was running toward her house. Either the smell of the food cooking attracted him, or the thin trail of smoke had. But something drew the child to Catherine’s house.

Unfortunately, her heavily seasoned meals had a tendency to attract undead attention, and the boy sounded as though he had run into trouble. She wanted to go to him, but it meant leaving her door open as an invitation for a zombie to come in and help themselves to the birds. Instead, she stood in front of the door with her scythe gripped loosely in her hands.

The shuffling steps of a zombie drew her attention the left side of the house before the man’s knees thumped against the porch. He couldn’t grasp the idea of lifting his leg to climb, and instead he fell onto the porch and got up on his hands and knees.

He was perhaps two months dead, and there were pitted wounds around his neck and shoulders where maggots crept out to fall on the floor. The larvae caused enough necrosis to make the zombie shake with the effort of rising to his feet. He barely raised his head before Catherine swung the scythe to decapitate him. She planted her foot in his gut and shoved the body off of the porch to drive it back into another male zombie.

Catherine checked over her shoulder when she heard a thump on the porch. An elderly woman had tried to use the steps before she fell on her face. She was still fresh enough to leave a red mark on the floor where her nose burst, and when she raised her head to look at Catherine, her lips and chin were covered in a violet smear.

The old woman tried to reach out for Catherine’s leg, and her hand was sliced away near the wrist. Catherine whirled the scythe up and over once before she swung it down in a pendulum stroke to cut off the woman’s head.

By then, the male zombie got out from under the headless corpse, and he belly crawled around to the stairs. His lower back was broken, and his legs were useless. Catherine walked to the door, leaning over to pick up a concrete cinder block. Turning, she made a grunt as she lobbed the block off of the porch. The corner of the block crunched down on the zombie’s neck, and his limbs dropped limply into the grass.

She saw the boy running up the gravel road, and she whistled, hoping to get him to hurry. But he was running on adrenaline fumes and had no second wind to tap into. He was still faster than the small pack of zombies behind him, and he didn’t bother talking before he ran into the house.

Then she spotted the cat and nearly panicked. The freshly dead feline was moving fast, and its dark grey and black striped markings made it hard to see as it darted through the front yard. The cat leapt high enough to launch itself for an attack at Catherine’s stomach, and she took a step back, raising the scythe in front of  her in an attempt to bunt the cat away. The cat’s head connected with the shaft, but the blow was too light to do anything to the undead feline.

Instead the hissing creature dropped to the porch floor and spun quickly to launch itself again. But Catherine had recovered from her shock and lashed her boot out to kick the cat in its throat. It clawed at the leather surface, trying to find a way to latch on for a bite even as she was pivoting her leg to sling the cat at the wall. It made another angry hiss just before its neck snapped on impact.

Catherine still sank the scythe through the cat’s head to be sure before she went into the house to bar the door. She could deal with the other zombies in the bathroom, but zombie cats had better than average odds of climbing through an open window.

It wasn’t until she got back to the bathroom where the candles were burning that she recognized Reagan Mallory. Terrified beyond words, the boy was wheezing between each howling sob he made.

Catherine took his wrist and led him to her bed to sit down before she moved to the bathroom window. “Dinner’s over here, guys! Come and get it while it’s still screaming!”

Even with her shouting and banging a pickaxe on the sill, the six zombies took time to lure to the window. Much less was needed to kill them, and she cleaned the pickaxe and washed her hands before she moved back to the grill to check the beans. Chewing one, she found the skins too tough for her preference, and she added another thick mesquite branch to the fire.

Reagan was filthy enough to reek, and he was still wheezing while he cried. But his howling had broken into sobs, and he was no longer shaking as badly. Catherine lit a row of candles by the bed and saw how the boy’s tears cut tracks through the grime on his face. In the flickering candle light, they looked like some kind of tribal markings.

She went to the bathroom to soak a rag, and then she sat down beside Reagan, brushing the cloth over his face while he huffed and snuffled to himself. She rinsed the rag and move to clean his arms next, and finally he calmed down enough to stop crying.

“When did you eat last?” Catherine asked.

Reagan looked down at the floor. “I can’t remember.”

“I’ll get you some broth. If I try to give you solid food, you’ll just throw it up.”

“My mom is…”

“I know. I saw her today, along with your sister.” Catherine raised her hand to pat Reagan’s shoulder. “Do you have any other family?”

“Yeah. My aunt and cousins live in Lytle.”

Catherine sighed. “Of course. Where else would they live?"