Eaters: Resurrection

By Michelle DePaepe

In this third and final installment of the Eaters series, it is closing in on a year since the beginning of the epidemic that started last July 4th weekend. After joining the Resistance to fight against the diabolical organization that started the apocalypse and controls the flesh-eating undead, Cheryl Malone and her wounded companion have succeeded in their attempt to do some major damage to the group's stronghold in Sedona, Arizona. But now, as the pair flees towards shelter with some old friends at Divine Sundaes, an ice cream shop turned church, they see the ominous sign of ashes flying through the air. Fear causes their hearts to pound as their Jeep inches forward. Both are on high alert as they know this is still a world controlled by dark forces and filled with hungry ghouls that lurk around every corner. Neither have any idea of the tragedies yet to come...or what's in store for them at the hands of One New Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle DePaepe
• Release date: Jun 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463082218

Michelle DePaepe

Michelle DePaepe writes paranormal and apocalyptic fiction. She is the author of the Eaters series (Eaters (Book 1), Eaters: The Resistance (Book 2), and Eaters: Resurrection (Book 3--coming soon!)), and two self-published novels: The Gardener and Vampire Music.

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EATERS: RESURRECTION

BY

MICHELLE DEPAEPE

Eaters: Resurrection

Michelle DePaepe

Copyright© 2016

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. All people, places, or events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

Muchas gracias to my fellow co-worker, Joel, for making sure my Spanish was coherent, to my loving husband, Tom, who is my walking thesaurus; to my awesome daughter, Sierra, my future zombie-killer in training; to Violet, Tabby, and Hazel, my furry muses who inspire my writing (when they are not draped across the keyboard), and to the zombies—the nightmares you gave me spawned a trilogy.

It is closing in on a year since beginning of the epidemic that started during the July 4th holiday weekend last summer. The virus that wiped out ninety percent of the world’s population did not start by accident. An organization called One New Earth was responsible for the apocalypse. They know how to control the Eaters (called Beasts after receiving an electromagnetic implant) and can telepathically manipulate many of those who are still among the living. Cheryl and Aidan escaped from O.N.E.’s stronghold in Sedona, Arizona where they helped the Resistance destroy their infrastructure, but this is still a world controlled by dark forces and filled with hungry ghouls that lurk around every corner.

PART I

Chapter 1

May

Cheryl Malone’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel of the forest green Jeep as she drove south towards Sabre, Arizona. The southwestern landscape, an impressionistic painting of blues, peaches, and purples highlighted by the early morning sunlight, was deceptively peaceful. The sun’s increasing warmth cued the wildlife to get their business done early before the heat became too intense. A lizard scurried underneath the spikes of a yucca plant, and a bee landed on the windshield then vanished. She would have appreciated the scenery passing by the window a little more if it wasn’t mitigated by ghastly reminders of the dangers in the shadows beyond.

She passed an abandoned pickup truck in the ditch with wide-open bullet-ridden doors and dark stains splattered across the upholstery. Every half mile or so she passed amorphous shapes scattered across the pavement. Some of them were road kill—a raccoon, a squirrel, or some unidentifiable bird that had been flattened into a puddle of feathers. Then, there was more gruesome refuse like piles of something dark and gelatinous that looked like they had been rotting on the roadside for days if not weeks. As odd as those things might have seemed to her almost a year ago before the epidemic started, this was the new normal now and those aging artifacts of death were promising signs, because they meant it was unlikely that a horde of Eaters were in the area.

Are we there yet?

She glanced over at Aidan. He’d been so quiet for the last few miles, she’d almost forgotten about him. He’d been going in and out of consciousness since their hasty escape from the chaos in Sedona, but he was awake now, staring straight ahead, looking through the windshield with his one good unblinking emerald eye. The blood from the wound he’d received during the explosion at the Armory had congealed, matted into his short chocolate-colored hair and dried into dark stripes down his prickly cheeks. He looked like a man who should be in an intensive care unit…that is…if there was such a thing as hospitals anymore outside the few in totalitarian cities now run by O. N.E.

Almost. Just a couple more miles, and we’ll be at Jeremiah’s. Then Kai can take a look at you.

His soft chuckle came out in a raspy whisper. He was a nursing student not a brain surgeon.

You’re going to be fine. She said it more like a command than a statement of encouragement.

Closing his eye again, he slumped back into the seat as if he’d lost the struggle to remain conscious after the exertion of speaking two sentences.

She studied a vaporous silhouette looming in the distance, ruling it out as a heat mirage because it was too early in the morning for that phenomenon. Aidan spoke again and startled her.

You should let me take the wheel.

You’re a funny man. That ain’t going to happen.

Are they tailing us?

"O.N.E.? No. I haven’t seen anyone…not anyone alive anyway."

You know they’re not going to just let us go.

I think they’re going to need more time to recoup before they can send out a hunting party.

What la-la planet do you live on? This is Earth, remember? We have Beasts that eat you, and mindfuck machines, and I haven’t even had a shower today. When I get back to my cabin, I’m going to fry us up some deer steaks. Then, I’m going to patch up that window. No more bears eating my food. Just wait until…

As Aidan kept rambling and talking nonsense, she whispered under breath, We’re almost there, honey. Just hang on a few more minutes. She hoped that he was going to be okay and that O.N.E.’s Cyclops device hadn’t done any irreparable damage to him. Most likely, she rationalized; it was just trauma from the blast, the same blast that had killed the owner of the vehicle she was driving, another member of the RT. Their victory in Sedona was bittersweet. Some of their plan had gone very wrong, and she and Aidan were lucky to have escaped with their lives.

At least they were close now—less than a mile away from the place that was the closest thing they could call home. The thought of pulling up to Divine Sundaes, an ice cream shop turned church, lifted her spirits a little, but she wouldn’t let them soar into optimism. Was the building still untouched by the hordes of the undead because of some sort of divine protection as Jeremiah believed? Or, would they get there and find the place bloodstained and empty? She’d once seen a large herd of Eaters part down the middle and pass around the building. The sight was so fantastic, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Maybe it had just been luck.

Papery flakes began to flutter down from the sky and pepper the windshield. Cheryl turned on the wipers, marveling at the late spring snow. It took a couple more seconds of staring at the dingy, gray flakes to remember that she was far away from her hometown of Denver. She was east of Tucson, driving towards a town near the Galiuro Mountains, and what she was seeing couldn’t be anything but flecks of ash.

Ash??? Oh…

A few seconds later, approaching the rear end of Hannah and Jeremiah’s garden that sat on the land adjacent to Divine Sundaes, she saw rows and rows of charred cornstalks standing like a regiment of lifeless, black skeletons. Smoke and ash drifted upwards from their midst, and a crackle of orange flame danced underneath the straw hat of the scarecrow in the center as it continued to burn.

What happened…?

She slowed down to a crawl as she saw a woman with a cascade of silver hair wearing a long, tattered skirt bent over a compost bin at the rear of the building. She was rooting around like she’d lost something and was frantic to find it.

Look…there’s Hannah!

Aidan’s eye sprung open like he’d finally heard something interesting enough to make it worth the effort. With obvious strain, he craned his head towards the window.

Cheryl stopped and rolled down the window before yelling, Hannah...

The woman stood upright and paused for a moment. Then, she began a slow pivot towards them.

Cheryl felt a jolt rush through her.

The woman had no face.

There was nothing but a few wispy strips of flesh clinging to the front of her skull, and there were gaping, dark holes where her eyes had once been. Was it Hannah? The skirt looked familiar, but there was no way of confirming the identity of this undead creature that used to be human.

Aidan mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like a yelp of fright. Instead of driving off, Cheryl reached for the gun on the floorboard next to his feet. Hannah…I’m so sorry…

The shot blasted a fresh crater in the woman’s scalp, causing her to jerk backwards then topple to the ground. Cheryl stared at the corpse, feeling a measure of grief but even more anxiety about what had happened at Divine Sundays. Hannah…dead…who else? It didn’t bode well for the other survivors.

After another minute, she pulled into the front parking lot and scanned the area in front of the building looking for any other signs of Eaters lingering about that might be a threat. Other than the smoke still wafting around the building like an eerie dark fog, she didn’t see anything else amiss. The place looked just the same as it had when she, Aidan, and the others in their group had left to go north to Sedona.

Staring at the door, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

What are you doing? Aidan asked with a little more alertness.

Waiting.

For what?

After the sound of that gunshot…why isn’t anyone coming out to greet us?

Maybe they don’t know who we are.

You’re right, she said as she realized the occupants inside the building wouldn’t recognize the Jeep. She started to open the door.

Aidan reached out for her forearm with a weak grip. Don’t…

They can’t see us through these tinted windows. They’re not going to know it’s us. She waited another second until he relinquished his grasp then she stepped out, keeping her gun at the ready in case there were any more ghouls lurking nearby.

Was it her imagination, or did the curtain just move in the window to the left of the front door? There could be someone in there, but they might not be alive, you know…

Her inner warning system was on full alert, knowing that if Hannah had turned, the whole group may have become infected and ended up trapped inside the building. She forgot to breathe as she watched and waited for any movement. When the door cracked open, she tensed until a familiar deep voice boomed out from behind it.

It that you, amiga?

Zach?

Cheryl? Is that you? he asked again, his voice raising up an octave and sounding as doubtful as if he was talking to a ghost. He opened the door wider, and she recognized his dark hair, brown eyes, and short but sturdy frame.

Yeah…it’s me. Aidan too. He’s hurt. Can we come in?

Zach disappeared for a moment behind the closed door then came back. He’s not bit is he?

No. It’s a head wound. He cracked it on the pavement in Sedona.

Oh…Dios mio. He flung the door open, looked to the left and the right then started to walk towards them.

Wait, she called to him. I don’t know if Aidan can walk that far. I’ll drive closer. She got back in and saw Aidan smiling at her with a big, goofy grin. We made it, she said as she squeezed his hand. She put the car in drive and pulled up next to the building.

After giving Cheryl a quick, but awkward hug, Zach took one look at Aidan’s slumped body and half-cracked eye then whistled and motioned for someone in the building to come out and help.

Diego bolted out the door towards them and took Aidan’s other arm.

As they helped him hobble, she noticed a change in the men’s physical appearance. They were still strapping specimens, having obviously kept up with their fitness regimens during her absence, but they looked leaner now. Their belts were tighter and their shirts hung a little more loosely across their chests and shoulders. Zach seemed to have lost a good ten to fifteen pounds. And Diego, who dwarfed him by several inches, seemed to have lost at least as much. His long sandy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was clean shaven, almost unrecognizable from the ruffian that she had first met when she’d encountered the Vultures, Aidan’s gang of mountain-dwelling bikers.

Once they got in the door, they were greeted by Jeremiah, the pastor at Divine Sundaes. Before receiving his calling, he had been a janitor for XCGEN, the laboratory that had created the epidemic at O.N.E.’s directive. He left his job for a more spiritual life after witnessing the horror of their experiments on animals and humans. Cheryl hadn’t seen him in months. Today, he looked a bit more like Santa Claus because his chest-long beard had turned from gray to white. Wearing torn jeans, a faded Harley-Davidson shirt, and a black leather vest, he still had a bit of a belly, but his limbs were gangly like he’d also been living on meager rations.

Behind Jeremiah, there were Kai and Jordan—other friends who had endured many trials with she and Aidan.

Cheryl fended off all the welcoming arms. Aidan’s hurt. He needs help.

What happened to him? Kai asked as he rushed to Aidan’s side and motioned for the men to ease him down on a pew.

He was thrown to the ground during an explosion. Smacked his head…

Kai, who’d been thin to begin with, looked almost emaciated now, but the young man still seemed spry and on his game as he signaled for Diego to grab his medical box. When Diego brought the tackle box that had been filled with a hodgepodge of makeshift supplies, he tended to Aidan. Everyone gathered around and watched, except for Jordan who kept to his lookout post at the window.

Can someone get me a candle? Kai asked.

Jeremiah rushed to the altar area, brought back a white taper then lit it with a lighter from his pocket. Kai held it up to Aidan’s eye and watched his pupil. Has he vomited?

No, but he was unconscious most of the way down from Sedona.

After examining him for a few more minutes, Kai addressed his patient. I think you just have a mild concussion and are still probably in a bit of shock from whatever you went through up there. Once I clean you up and you rest a bit, you’re going to feel better.

Cheryl marveled at how mature and confident Kai sounded. Much of his medical experience had been trial by fire since the beginning of the epidemic.

If you say so, Doc, Aidan said with a drawl that sounded warbled and groggy.

Don’t worry, Kai said as he used a rag to sponge off the coagulated streaks on Aidan’s face. I’m not sure all this blood is yours. The wound is relatively small.

You check him for bites? Zach asked from the other side of the room.

Aidan jerked his head around and gave him a wild-eyed glare. I’m not bit, dammit!

Zach held out his hand. All right…all right, mi amigo. Calm down. You know we have to ask.

A few minutes later, after Kai smoothed a disinfecting poultice on his wound that had the pungent scent of sage and pine and covered it with a makeshift bandage from strips of cloth tied around his head, he said, You know…if you can lose an eye and recover, this is minor in comparison. I think you’ll be okay.

At the mention of his empty eye socket, Aidan’s hand went to the scarred hole as if he had suddenly become conscious of the disfiguration again. He shoved Kai’s arm away and rose to his feet. Thank you, he said gruffly before walking away with an uneven gait and going to brood next to a window.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. I saw…Hannah… Cheryl said.

You what? Jeremiah asked, cocking his head forward as if he hadn’t heard her right.

I saw Hannah out back at the compost bin when we drove up. She shuddered as she envisioned the faceless woman again. Before she could confess that she’d shot her, Jeremiah shook his head.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whoever you saw, it wasn’t her. Hannah’s back in the bedroom. She’s been there ever since…

An uncomfortable silence came over the room. No one spoke, and no one moved. It was as if all sound had been suctioned out by some ethereal vacuum. Then, Diego coughed, which seemed to break the spell.

She had a breakdown, Kai offered after nodding towards Jeremiah’s bowed head. "We found out that some of the food we’d given to the other survivors in the area made them sick. They…they turned because of it. The thought that she’d caused their death with the plants from her garden upset her so much she took a torch out there a few hours ago and burned everything—the corn, the squash, beans, tomato plants…"

This time, it was Cheryl that was silent. Hannah was alive. That was good. But the food was bad? That reinforced what one of the Resistance members, had told her back in Sedona. Dear God…were they doomed to starve if they weren’t consumed by the Eaters first?

She’ll be okay, Jeremiah said. I know my wife. After she rests, we’ll spend some time in prayer, and she’ll recover. We’re all kind of living on the edge of sanity right now, so we’ve made allowances for the occasional breakdown.

What about the food? Cheryl asked, wondering for a moment if it had been a mistake to help the RT destroy the O.N.E. operation in Sedona—at least they’d had something to eat there. Of course, if they hadn’t helped the Resistance, and their Cyclops machine had gone into full operation, she’d be nothing but an automaton now, a thought-controlled slave. But at least there was food. If you can’t eat the food from the garden, what are you eating?

We’re rationing the stores in the basement—things we put up last summer. Canned fruits and vegetables. We’re sprouting some seeds, and just started growing some micro greens in soil we’re making inside from our scraps and waste and the help of some friendly earthworms, because we’re afraid to use the dirt from outside.

Their malnourished appearance made sense now. They were eating, but not getting enough calories. It didn’t bode well for her plan to stick around Divine Sundaes for a while. On the drive down, she’d pacified her frayed nerves with the fantasy that she was headed somewhere safe from most of the world’s horrors—what a joke that was now.

Cheryl’s mind drifted back to Hannah. She was such a gentle soul. It was hard to imagine her going berserk and setting the garden on fire, but if the food was tainted maybe it had actually been an act of valor instead of insanity. She wanted to hear more about what had happened at Divine Sundaes and around the town of Sabre since her absence, but everyone began to bombard her with questions about what had happened in Sedona.

So…where’d you get the Jeep? Zach asked.

It belonged to a member of the Resistance who…didn’t make it. So many were dead. Hundreds, possibly thousands who’d been devoured by the Beasts that had run amok or who’d died in the explosion in Sedona. She wanted to blot out the nightmare of last night that kept reverberating through her skull.

Jeremiah walked over and clasped one of Cheryl’s hands with both of his. Well…whatever went down, I thank the Lord that you’re all right. We really weren’t sure we’d see you again. When Zach and Diego came back and told us what happened to Mark…

Oh…here it was again…that painful, stabbing wound in her heart. She’d tried to put out of her mind that stomach-churning feeling she’d felt ever since learning that her fiancé was no longer alive. Cheryl looked down at the dirt and blood encrusted sandals on her feet as her hand instinctively reached into her pocket and felt for the bloodstained cross. It hadn’t belonged to her fiancé—it had been a gift to her from Hannah, but Mark been holding it for her when he was killed, so it served as her last connection to him since she’d lost her engagement ring.

When she looked up, Jeremiah’s eyes crinkled as they looked deeply into hers. I’m very sorry for your loss. After Zach and Diego returned and told me, I’ve been praying that you were okay and that you would be able to recover from your grief.

He opened his arms like a fatherly bear, and she fell into them just before her knees began to wobble. "Please don’t give me the spiel about how he’s in a better place and all that." She was still a doubter that there was any sort of divine being allowing all this misery to happen, and truth be told…if He did exist, she didn’t want any guilt from the idea that he could be watching over her from some celestial place above, judging her for her failures and for the erratic feelings and dalliances she’d had with Aidan.

We’re very sorry, Zach said to her when she parted from Jeremiah. That couple we took with us from Sedona ran off, and right after that we were ambushed.

I know, Cheryl said. I heard what happened. She hoped the words didn’t come out sounding too harsh, because she’d forgiven them for not preventing Mark’s murder even if she hadn’t said it out loud. There was likely nothing they could have done to prevent the attack. Maybe, she blamed Mark the most. After all, he was the one who’d given up after being such a rock for her during the beginning of the apocalypse.

She remembered once believing he was dead then finding him alive. There was no chance of that happening again—this time there were witnesses to his death. There was even more proof that his spirit was gone. Ever since that first awful night that he’d shoved her out in the cruel world in order to save her life, she’d heard his voice in her head. She later found out that it was some telepathic side effect of experiments that O.N.E. had been using on soldiers in Afghanistan—phase one of the rollout of their plan of population reduction and control. That voice was silent now. There was nothing in her head but her own random, disturbing thoughts.

He’s in heaven now, my dear, Jeremiah said. Naysay all you want… but it exists…and it’s a better place than we live in now.

I’d like to believe that, she said. It would certainly make things easier.

Oh…I believe Mark’s up there now. Jeremiah glanced towards the ceiling. I bet he’s watching us continue this game like a player resting on the sidelines.

Game? Aidan asked. "You think the world being taken over by some warped group that unleashed hordes of zombies is some sort of stupid game?"

Jeremiah’s gaze turned steely. It’s refining by affliction.

Survival of the fittest then?

No. I like to think it’s more like a test to see where your heart is. When the chips are down, do you wither into something selfish and sinful or do you forge into something greater made of a stronger metal?

Ha! Aidan laughed. My chips are just crumbs in the bottom of the bag, man. I’m just getting by day by day.

Cheryl could feel the tension starting to rise. Aidan despised religion almost as much as he did anything having to do with the military, but he’d never been cranky with Jeremiah. Maybe he was just weary from his head injury and defaulting into his naturally defensive mode. Well… she said, as I said, I know Mark has passed on, and I’d like to believe that he’s in some safe, warm, sunny place like Heaven right now. You think they allow cigarettes up there? she asked, trying to lighten the conversation. If they do, I bet he’s enjoying a good smoke right now. They can’t be bad for you if you’re already dead, right?

Dead? asked a tinkling, high-pitched voice. You know someone that’s died?

Cheryl looked at the young girl who’d just appeared in their midst. She stared, thinking she was hallucinating, because the radiant little being seemed to have just materialized right in front of her. She had hair as light as corn silk cascading down her shoulders like a veil of pure sunshine. When she brushed a few strands away from her forehead, her pale blue eyes shimmered and her cheeks flushed bright pink.

Everyone in the room stopped talking and looked at the angel before them as if they were also mesmerized by her appearance.

Chapter 2

Who do you know that’s died?

Cassie… Jeremiah scolded with a snap of his fingers. Not now. Let’s let our guests rest a bit before you interrogate them.

I just want to make a picture, the girl said, standing her ground with her arms folded over her chest.

Cheryl studied her as she was studied back. Cassie looked about seven which meant she’d probably been headed into the first grade when the epidemic began last summer.

Jeremiah chuckled. We found her wandering down the road a while back. She won’t talk about what happened to her family, so we don’t know where she came from. We’ve kind of adopted her as our own and Hannah has been schooling her.

Cassie looked at Jeremiah. Then, her thumb rose up to her pink lips for just a second. She dropped it just as quickly as if remembering that she’d almost succumbed to some infantile habit that she was supposed to have given up. Her gaze returned to Cheryl. You’re very pretty. Your hair and your eyes…they’re like mine.

Thank you. You’re very pretty, too.

The girl seemed to take the returned compliment as an invitation. She came over to Cheryl’s side and sat down beside her. You know someone that’s died, don’t you? Everybody does.

Cassie! Jeremiah snapped.

It’s okay, Cheryl said. I don’t mind. She took a breath then told her in brief detail about Mark, her fiancé, who’d passed on, and a couple of friends that she’d lost. She purposely left out details about her father. Given the circumstances that she’d left him in, there was no choice but to assume he was dead now. Even so, it was too painful to admit that he was gone by talking about it to make it official.

Come… Cassie said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.

Cheryl looked at Jeremiah, bewildered.

She wants to show you the wall. It’s all right…

Cheryl followed the girl to the kitchen. The room had once been the serving area when the building was an ice cream shop, but it was remodeled after Jeremiah and Hannah turned the building into a church and their home. The kitchen had standard appliances that were unused, because there had been no electricity since the early days of the apocalypse. The space was used now as a food factory of sorts—sprouts and micro greens in plastic tubs lined the window sill, table, and counters. It was also apparently an art gallery. One entire wall was plastered with gruesome crayon drawings. At the very top, there was a row of pictures depicting skulls that had mouths with sharp, shark-like teeth. Drops of blood dripped down from them onto the images of the people below.

She calls it her Death Wall, Jeremiah said, coming up behind them as he wrung his hands. We tried to discourage her, but that seemed to cause her more distress, so we let her keep it as a sort of a therapeutic outlet."

Cassie looked up at Cheryl, her wide blue eyes imploring. If you tell me what your fiancé and your friends looked like, I’ll make pictures for them too.

With some reluctance, Cheryl described the tall soldier that she’d been engaged to and the friends she’d lost. A couple of minutes later, Cassie had just started working furiously on her new drawings when the sound of a female cough made them all turn their heads. Hannah peered in the door frame, using it to support her fragile body. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there were streaks of dried tears cutting stripes through her soot-darkened face. When Cassie saw her, she ran to her, nearly knocking Hannah over as she wrapped her arms around the elder woman’s hips and buried her cheek in the folds of her skirt before looking up at her face.

You okay, Grandma Hannah?

I think so, she replied, smoothing the girl’s hair down with a grimy hand. I’m feeling a little better. Then, seeming