Man Eaters

  MAN EATERS

  MAN EATERS

  LINDA KAY SILVA

  Man Eaters Summary

  They prey only on human flesh, and as the virus spreads and the horde of man eaters grows, firefighter, Dallas Barkley struggles hourly to keep her little band of survivors from the grasp of killers who never tire, never sleep, and never quit longing to make a meal out of them. As martial law sweeps through the country, Dallas’s new family must fight off not only voracious man eaters and a deadly military containment procedure, but rogue survivors who obey no law of the land as they wantonly take from those they perceive as weaker.

  But Dallas and her people are far from weak. With a cowgirl named Roper and a medic called Butcher, these three women must brave the darkest hours of the bloodiest days as they work together to create a safe haven in a world destroyed by a man made plague ravaging the country and threatening their lives. Only by placing their faith, loyalty, and love in each other’s hands can they hope to survive.

  Only by forging bonds stronger than death can they hope to beat back the hordes of undead.

  Man Eaters

  Copyright © 2012 by Linda Kay Silva, All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-939062-00-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Concept: Billie Tzar

  Editors: Lee Fitzsimmons and Lisa Boeving

  Proofer: Lee Ann Norman

  Cover & Interior Design: Sapphire Books Publishing

  Sapphire Books

  P.O. Box 8142

  Salinas, CA 93912

  www.sapphirebooks.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition – Oct. 2012

  Acknowledgements

  This one is dedicated to all of my students, past and present, who opened your minds long enough to let this crazy lady dance across the surface of your minds. I’m still dancing. Can you feel it?

  Special thanks to: Sapphire Books, Chris, and Schileen…for giving me and my characters a place to call home. Thank you.

  Dallas stood at the foot of the bed gazing on two people she had only recently met, but was now inexplicably willing to die for. Roper lay on her side with her back to Einstein, who, like most teenage boys, took up more space than he should. Turning from them, incapable of finding the peace they seemed to so easily crawl into and fall asleep with, Dallas stared out the window and into the penetrating darkness…the calm before the bloodshed.

  They were out there.

  Lurking.

  Waiting.

  Chomping their broken and rotting teeth in anticipation of a meal she would make sure they never tasted.

  “Where are you?” Dallas whispered under her breath, her eyes scanning the dimly lit gravel road leading to a ranch house whose owners lay dead at the foot of the driveway, half-eaten by the once-human creatures roaming just outside the fence line.

  Did they ever get sated or could they just eat and eat, endlessly tearing meat from the bones of the living?

  She shook her head. She knew the answer. These…things…these undead carnivores would never stop. They would never rest. They would be relentless in their pursuit of the living. Like a machine needing no fuel, these undead would roam the countryside forever until they ran out of food. Food. Human meat.

  Them.

  It had become a daily battle to stay one step ahead of creatures that never tire. Dallas and her small gang of survivors would run then fight, fight then run, and struggle to win the daily, no, hourly mêlée to survive.

  It was a war Dallas wasn’t certain they would win.

  ****

  Two Weeks Ago

  Dallas backed her 2003 Harley Ultra Glide out of the small garage beneath one of Berkeley’s infamous Victorians. The lavender and white-trimmed painted lady stood in stark contrast to the cherry red and white paint job of her beloved motorcycle with her name airbrushed across the tank in a stylized cursive.

  “Going to the City?” Mrs. Horowitz asked, bending over to scoop up her cat, Vincent. “Vinny could sure use some of that organic catnip you brought him last time.”

  Dallas fastened her helmet and nodded, feeling like a bobble-head doll as she did. “Absolutely, Mrs. H., but I might be late. I heard the traffic on the bridge is worse than usual.”

  Stroking the gray and white cat, the older woman nodded. “No hurry, dear. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  Straddling the low-slung saddle, Dallas started the engine, the loud Reinhart pipes roaring to life like an angry bear. Pulling out onto the street, she felt the stresses of the day slowly melt away as the warm wind caressed her face.

  As days went, this one had sucked. Royally. It had started out with her girlfriend of three years handing her her pink slip. Her job had been outsourced to some other money-earner.

  “We’re done,” Lisa had said as she carried two suitcases to the door. Funny thing about it was Dallas wondered if she was watching a show. Who really packed up suitcases when leaving their relationship and set them by the door? Who did that?

  But Lisa wasn’t just leaving. She was peeling out. Burning rubber. Hitting the danger zone. She was…done. No discussion. No tears. No guilt or accusations. Not even an explanation. Just done.

  “Did you feed the dog?” Was all Dallas could think to say.

  Lisa whirled around, her eyes holding a mixture of anger and disbelief. “It’s so like you not to even fight for me, Dallas…for us.” Lisa shook her head sadly, all fight gone from her. “You never did know when to pull and when to push.”

  And just like that, Lisa walked out of her house and out of her life.

  Dallas doubted she would return. When Lisa was done, that was it. Whatever it was she’d wanted Dallas to fight for had died long before today.

  So, it felt good to air it out on the short freeway ride to the Bay Bridge, even though the traffic was beginning to slow down to the inevitable bumper-to-bumper pace endemic to the Bay Area freeways after two-thirty in the afternoon.

  Since splitting lanes is legal in California, Dallas slowed down just enough to be able to squeeze through the traffic clogging the lanes to the tollbooth.

  Once through the toll area, the cool sea air reminded her of how cold it could get on the bridge, even in July. Only her face felt the sting of the salt air, as her flapping jacket and chaps kept her warm and dry. She loved her black leather Harley Davidson jacket. Lisa had given it to her last year for her twenty-fifth birthday, and they were inseparable. She went everywhere in that jacket. It would probably be the only thing from their failed relationship worth keeping.

  It wasn’t Lisa’s fault, really. They’d grown apart over the last year or so—ever since Dallas had accepted her dream job as a firefighter…a job she’d trained hard for and dreamt about being ever since 9/11. She loved her job, loved helping people, and enjoyed the wonderful camaraderie of her fellow firefighters. The burly, handsome, and often practical joke-playing firemen accepted her right off, probably because she could cook, swear, and throw a mean curve ball. The guys were all right in her book and would be thrilled Lisa was out of the picture. They’d never really cared for the way Lisa spoke to them…as if being a man was a crime. Lisa never quite understood that disliking men in general made her as narrow-minded as those who did the same to them as lesbians.

  The word narrow made Dallas realize the space between lanes closed up, so she came to a stop, firmly plant
ing booted feet on the deck of the bridge. Nothing was moving. Leaning over, she knocked on the passenger window of a minivan. The blonde-haired teenage boy rolled down the window.

  “Yeah?” He was wearing black-rimmed glasses and a yellow collared shirt.

  “Excuse me. Is there anything on the radio about the traffic?”

  The boy turned and said something to the driver before turning back. “Overturned truck or something. Gonna be a while.”

  “Thanks.”

  He looked down at her bike. “Nice ride.”

  Dallas smiled proudly. “Big fun.”

  After about ten minutes, a number of people turned off their cars and got out. Some chatted about what it could be, while others paced around, talking on their cell phones. Then, ever so slightly, the ground beneath her rumbled…a not uncommon occurrence in the earthquake-laden Bay Area. The rumble seemed to make everyone stop what they were doing and listen. The Loma Prieta ‘quake of ’89 had collapsed this bridge, so people’s nerves were heightened by the sound and ground movement.

  “Did you feel that? She asked the teen, who was busy playing some game on his iPhone.

  “Uh oh.”

  Then the air became deathly, preternaturally still. Dallas looked at the boy. The boy lowered his phone and squinted through the windshield. Nothing moved. No sound could be heard—just that stillness.

  “Oh shit.”

  Dallas followed his gaze and watched as a mass of people came running toward them, screaming, and waving their arms in some sort of bizarre warning. A couple of people were bleeding, but most were just stampeding toward them, eyes wide with fear.

  As people around her jumped back into their vehicles, Dallas stood on the seat of her Harley, unsure if what she was seeing was really what she was seeing: a wall of people flooded toward them, the once still air now filled with screams and panic.

  Looking around for some place to go to escape the crowd and what they were running from, she looked up at the cables of the Bay Bridge and knew that up was her only option.

  But before the fearful crowd reached her, Dallas quickly made her way to the side of the bridge. She could go over the edge and down, but there was no guarantee she’d survive the fall. No. Up was the way to go.

  Once she got up on the gray cable, she looked over the clogged artery of cars at the pack of people stampeding across the width of the bridge. At first, she wasn’t at all sure her eyes were telling the truth. There were people chasing the fleeing mob. People with their arms outstretched.

  When she was finally high enough on the cable, she watched in utter horror as the mob of people chasing the others tackled them and bit at their necks and arms like some rabid cannibals. They were ripping and tearing away at exposed flesh.

  “Oh my god…” Dallas’s hand covered her mouth with her hand as the chaos beneath her turned the deck of the bridge blood red. Everywhere she looked, people were not just attacking other people, but tearing their skin and ripping chunks of flesh from their necks. Fountains of blood spewed into the frenetic air. Those who stayed in their cars found themselves surrounded by those whose mouths and hands were stained with the blood of their victims. The biters pounded on the windows while emitting this horrific moaning sound that grew louder the closer they got to other people.

  “What the fuck—”

  Dallas stared at a woman who had climbed to the roof of her SUV, only to be pulled down by a tall man in a grey business suit who repeatedly bit her…no, not bit. He was…he was eating her? Could that be what she was seeing? The woman crumpled to the ground and the mob pressed forward on her, tearing her flesh from the bones, biting her right through her clothes.

  That was when Dallas saw a young woman with long brown hair climb up on the other side of the bridge. she was pulling herself up, one of the mob stood beneath her, staring up at her before moving on to an easier prey—a young girl who had not gotten into her car fast enough soon became their next meal as they converged on her and attacked her with teeth bloodied from their last victims.

  As the chaos neared her Harley, Dallas studied as the blonde teenage boy in the driver’s seat jumped out of the SUV and ran toward Dallas. Three of the killers turned their attention to him and started moving after him, arms outstretched like he would be a great meal. The boy stopped to help an elderly woman to her feet before casting a worried glance back over his shoulder.

  He wasn’t going to make it.

  Scrambling carefully down the cable to where the kid was, Dallas reached down and grabbed his wrist. “Take my hand!” They were ten feet away when Dallas looked into their faces marred with blood and fleshy debris. “Come on!” she yelled, pulling the kid as hard as she could. At five feet eight, Dallas possessed a firefighter’s strong physique. Fueled by fear and adrenalin, she yanked the kid so hard she almost lost her balance on the cable. Grabbing the handrails, the kid backed away from the men and women reaching up for him with bloody fingertips.

  That was the first time Dallas heard the moaning up close, and it froze the marrow of her bones. Each one of them was making the exact same sound; part moan, part grunt, all creepy. She felt like she had just fallen into a horror movie.

  “Thank you,” the boy said, moving higher up the cable.

  “Where you going?”

  “Higher. They can’t climb. Climbing is a higher level brain function, and they’re dead.”

  Dallas didn’t move. She could barely hear him above the wind that buffeted the screams, groans, and car horns. Did he say they were dead? “What do you mean, dead?”

  “Come on. Trust me. Higher is safer. For now.”

  Trust him? He was what? Fifteen? Sixteen? He believed this murderous attack was by a bunch of dead people? Too much Walking Dead.

  Dallas stopped to look at the carnage below. Bodies and body parts were strewn all over the deck of the bridge and the attackers wandered about the blood, in search of the living. The way the attackers walked…the way they tore into human flesh…and that moaning. Could this kid be right? Was she looking at some sort of apocalypse?

  “Holy shit on a rice cracker. Look at that!”

  Torn away from the macabre scene below, Dallas followed his gaze high up on the bridge. “What in the world—”

  The woman who had been on the other side of the bridge had actually scaled the cable until she came to the crossbeam and was walking across it like a tightrope walker.

  “That’s insane.” Dallas said, amazed anyone could be courageous enough or crazy enough to walk across the steel beam several stories above the bridge deck.

  “Oh man, I’d wet myself,” the teen said. “Heights make my palms sweat.”

  “Maybe she’s coming to attack us.”

  The kid turned to Dallas. He had light blue eyes and short blond hair that swept across his forehead. All he was missing to be a flashback to the seventies was a puka shell necklace, and she was pretty sure he had one at home. “Nah. She definitely isn’t one of them. I told you—”

  “They can’t climb. Yeah. But how—”

  “Come on. We need to get higher. As long as they can see us, they’ll try to get to us.” The kid moved up the cable, hanging on to the handrails as he moved.

  The higher up they went, the less she could hear the screams of the victims but the more she could see the destruction and mayhem below. The dead were everywhere and the mob seemed to grow larger. Vehicles were blood-smeared, and those still inside were often surrounded by those beating on the windows on the Oakland side of the bridge. They were wreaking havoc and killing everyone in their path. Young and old, men and women, people of all races chased after those who ran for their lives.

  One man caught Dallas’s eye as he weaved through and around cars until he stood trapped by three of the mob. They weren’t attacking him, though. They just stood there staring at him like they were unsure of what or who he was. Dallas hoped he would climb up on the cable, and he did…only to hurl himself off the side of the bridge and into the choppy bay
waters below.

  “What’s…what’s happening?” When Dallas turned to the boy, she saw him waving to the young woman.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling her over here. I told you, she’s not dead.” He moved up the cable and helped the woman down to where they stood. “That was amazing!” The boy said excitedly to the woman, who wasn’t even winded.

  “Didn’t see as I had much choice. I didn’t really want to be alone up here.” She shrugged.

  Dallas saw no fear in this woman’s clear eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, standing there in Wrangler jeans, Frye boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket that had seen better days. Attached to her belt was a ring of rope. Her hair color, up close, with the sun reflecting off it, was more auburn than brown, and she stood slightly taller than Dallas.

  “What the hell is going on down there?” the woman asked, turning her gaze to the carnage below. “It’s like a bloody zombie flick.”

  “Well, I know I’ll sound like a crazy kid, but you’re not too far off. I’m pretty sure those moaning people are dead.”

  “I can see the dead ones on the deck, it’s the living I don’t—”

  “That’s what I’m saying. They are all dead.”

  The woman and Dallas quickly looked at each other.

  “You mean…just like zombies?”

  He nodded. “These people are a lot like the undead in a video game I’ve played called Man Eaters of the Living.”

  Dallas looked more carefully at the victims who had been attacked. Most of them were no longer where they’d fallen, but had managed to stagger to their feet to join the crowd, torn and tattered flesh hanging from their bones.

  “I know it’s hard to believe and you probably think I’m just some stupid gamer with an over-active imagination, but just watch. Those who have been attacked…they rise again, only to join the horde.”

  “The horde?”

  He shrugged. “Well, that’s what they’re called in the game.”

  Dallas said nothing, but kept her gaze on the woman who had been attacked by the man in the gray suit. It didn’t take long for her to raise up, her throat half torn from her body, her cheek ripped open from multiple bites, to slowly stand, look around her and wander toward the horde.