Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #109 The cannibals interrupt the meeting in the farmhouse #SHTF #TEOTWAWKI

The cannibals interrupt the meeting in the farmhouse

After our escort brings them to the house, the Cannibal’s leader strides in pleased as punch with himself. He wears what Shack refers to as a “shit eating grin” pasted to his face. This time the large cannibal is dressed in durable Carhartt work wear. The cannibal’s clothes are clean, in good repair and look almost new. The dark browns and greens of the Carhartt work wear blends well in the woods.

The large cannibal’s leader plops his muscular body into a chair at the kitchen table without being invited. With a resounding clang, he tosses a large, crude flanged mace upon the table. The handle is welded from a piece of solid metal bar about an inch in diameter and three feet long. The handle ends in a wickedly pointed sharp spike at the top.

The large flanged mace has eight large, round metal gears with blunt square teeth welded to the shaft forming the eight sided head of the mace. Each of the four metal gears was sliced in half, and then each half welded to the steel rod on opposite sides. I thought that the large and heavy weapon is freckled with rust at first until I realize what it is.

While there are patches of rust on the flanged mace, and even flecks of leftover paint, most of the brownish residue I realize is dried blood. What I at first mistook to be tribal-like fetishes attached to the weapon, I now realize are clumps of human hair. The hair and blood do not appear to be fresh but it still gives me the creeps.

The two smaller male cannibals, also dressed in Carhartt work wear are completely ignored. These two males visited the last time that the cannibals were on the farm. Each is armed with an improvised blunt weapon. All of the cannibals carry large knives, many of them commercially manufactured before the KCAP apocalypse.

It is interesting to me that none of the cannibals chose slicing weapons for their main weapon. I wonder if that was by choice or perhaps because of limited options. When crafting an improvised weapon clubs and other smashing weapons are easier to fabricate. It takes more effort, and materials to make bladed weapons.

The cannibal’s large mace is truly a fearsome weapon. Only the large cannibal leader would be capable of wielding such a heavy weapon with ease. The large cannibal leans back in his chair, putting both of his large booted feet on the table top. Silence rules the room with the exception of the creaking of the cannibal leader’s chair, groaning underneath his weight.

The cannibal leader opens the small glass bottle of clove flavored toothpicks. Putting one of the toothpicks in his mouth, he looks at Sam.

“You and me needs to talk. I don’t like the fact that you have booby-trapped the surrounding area. I lost a few guys.”

“Your point being?” Sam is obviously irked, but he makes no overtly threatening action. “What is your name anyway? We never got properly introduced.”

“We can distinguish each other by smell. We have no need of names anymore, but you may refer to me as Cauley. We cannibals can sense each other’s thoughts in a way. Not like true telepathy. I know that both guys standing behind me are hungry and horny because I can sense it. Our sense of smell is much better than yours. KCAP rewires our brains as well as our bodies. Our lungs, heart and blood supply, are larger. We are better than you.”

“But you are still dying and are infected.” Sam says with a sneer.

Cauley waves his hand dismissively. “As long as we do not reach the tipping point, we can reap the benefits of KCAP infection with few of the drawbacks. Why should we not eat the meat that is in plentiful supply? Some of us even like the taste, but I have to admit that younger people, which we call ‘hairless goat’ or ‘long piglet,’ tastes much better. The problem is that there is just not that much meat on a person when compared to say a steer or swine. We learned the hard way that you have to cook a person until they are well done. With the exception of sickle-cell disease, you can get the same diseases from eating raw human flesh as from that of raw swine.”

“The siege of Leningrad during the winter of 1941–1942 after all of the birds, cats, and pets were eaten by survivors, cannibals occupying several residential buildings were reported to the NKVD. There were even gangs of people who attacked and ate survivors. It got so bad that the Leningrad police formed a special unit to combat the problem.”

I glance at Nikola. He spoke so softly while looking down at the table. I wonder how he knows this little tidbit of history. Is cannibalism while under siege part of history in the Russian public school curriculum?

Sam looks around at the room. “I’d rather eat my pistol than another person.”

“You may not get that choice.” Cauley leans back in his chair testing the limits of its strength. “KCAP is a new step in evolutionary virology. It drives the host to bite and infect others. Right now it is a faint whisper in the back of my mind. When I get hungry, though, the virus becomes a cocaine-fueled, fucking mad, starving monkey armed with a pipe wrench upon my back. The strength and complexity of this virus is amazing.”

“What were you before KCAP? A fucking virologist?” Shack’s outburst startles me.

Cauley chuckles quietly. “No, I worked for a popular software giant down in Redmond. I was a systems engineer. I used to bicycle commute to work. I was trapped there with access to some of the best computers and internet band width money could buy. Before the internet died, I learned some interesting things.”

“Like what?” Shack asks.

“Like the fact that KCAP changes the host, using it until the host dies of other causes. For some reason, the KCAP strain that we ingest is a lesser strain than that injected from a bite. The ingested strain of KCAP is only capable of limited reproduction. We have not seen KCAP mutate further which is surprising since most of these scenarios had quickly mutating viruses. Some viruses change very slowly, while others adapt faster than any other known pathogen.”

Cauley momentarily glances at Nikola dressed in his Astrakhan great-coat. The Russian Federation pin in the center of his gray furry cap is impossible to miss.

“The fucking Russian or Chinese geniuses who built this Cold War viral weapon somehow biologically locked it so that it cannot mutate. If that were on purpose or by accident, we may never know.”

“You said this thing was built.” Shack seems shocked.

Cauley cranes his neck over to look at Shack. “From what I read on the internet before it died. Yes, it appears that this is a manmade virus. Probably developed as a bio weapon during the dark days of the old Cold War. It is believed that what we know today as KCAP is probably a mutated blend of one or more Cold War bioweapons.”

“Since the gooks and the Russians nuked the whole fucking area where the virus originated, we may never find patient zero. If the Cold War bunker that this witches’ brew was stored in survived, then we might be able to find original strains of the virus. But since the geniuses nuked the area, it is inhabitable for the next 75 years or so. I don’t think that even with our resistance and healing abilities one of us could even get in there.”

I did not hear our black cook enter. She startles me by muttering over my head.

“Great the end of the goddamned world, and we still have to put up with a fucking bigot.”

Cauley does not even glance at the black cook. I appreciate the tea she brought in. I mentally chastise myself for forgetting her name again. I think that her name is something very beautiful but damned if I can remember it. In the light of present company, the hot Spruce tea, even as shitty as it tastes is welcome.

Cauley shifts the toothpick around in his mouth, moving it rapidly from corner to corner with his black tongue. He glances at the watch on his left wrist. “We know quite a few zombies survived the nuclear assault. There were some internet discussions that the radiation from the bombs might have mutated the virus. The KCAP zombie is not capable of complex thoughts but has limited reasoning about on par with swine, dolphins and higher primates. Although we are not immune from attack by zombies, those with higher infection levels can hear the hive minds.”

“You mean that there are fucking hives of those things out there?” I did not even hear Junior come into the room. At his outburst everyone looks at him. He suddenly looks embarrassed.

Cauley looks at Junior as if he is an idiotic nuisance.

“Yes young man, there are whole hives of zombies out there living in the deep, dark bowels of our once lovely cities. Although each hive mind is distinct from the others, they all work together towards the common purpose of spreading the KCAP virus. We could be looking at the new dominate species on the planet.”

Glancing at his watch again, while chomping on the flavored toothpick Cauley continues. “We are not sure how large some of the hives are, or what triggers a hive to split. The hives possess some aspects of a bee hive and ant colonies. All hive leaders are the largest male, chosen by the virus. The hive leader’s authority is absolute.”

Cauley breaks into another shit-eating grin. “We have that aspect, as well. As far as we can tell the hive zombies are not sexually active. They reproduce by infecting other hosts. But they spread unbelievably fast. KCAP spreads faster even than Mohammad, who started with only five followers. In four months, he controlled Arabia. Within three years, he controlled almost the whole known world. It took KCAP less than 48 hours to conquer the whole world.”

I look sharply at Cauley. “You are comparing the Prophet Mohammad; may peace be upon him, to KCAP? You are one sick bastard.”

Cauley waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, the sand nigger speaks. Did I offend you?” he asks with mock humility. He even has the audacity to bat his eyes at me.

Shack places his hand on my right arm as I tense. Despite the fact that I am not particularly religious I spent far too many years listening to my father demand respect for all religions. This sick, flesh-eating bastard deriding one of the world’s most popular religions strikes me as wrong.

Cauley glances at his watch again, as Junior hands Sam a piece of paper. Sam reads the paper quickly and quickly writes something upon it. Handing the paper back to Junior, Sam makes a shooing gesture to Junior.

For a moment, Junior looks as if he is going to argue with Sam. Sam gives Junior a stern look and the young man shuts his mouth with an audible pop. With a petulant frown on his face, Junior turns on his heel and leaves the house. Sam watches as Junior leaves, then nods at Jamal and leans back in his chair.

“Sorry to interrupt your monologue, Cauley. Are we keeping you from something? You were saying …”

“I understand that you are busy.” Cauley sucks loudly on the saturated toothpick. “But …

Sam rudely interrupts Cauley. “If you think I am so busy why this damned long dog and pony show?” Sam suddenly seems too far at ease to me. What the fuck is going on?

“I did not like being cut out of this trade agreement. I want weapons now. I offered our strength and abilities for the Kayak Point mission in fair trade yet you brushed me off. You will give me weapons and ammunition, including larger weapons like a couple of machine guns. I also want that flat green little tank sitting in the yard over there with plenty enough ammo.”

He motions with his right thumb in the direction of the Ontos as if we are idiots and did not understand which tank that he meant. The nerve of this fucking guy!

Sam almost positively sneers at Cauley. “That’s it?”

“I lost several men to your damned booby traps, so I am going to need either replacement men or more weapons to offset my losses. I also want a look at what ya’ got. I might choose some more.” He looks at me. “We could always use more women. You have more than enough.” Placing his hand on his crotch, he grabs his penis though his heavy, brown denim pants. “Unlike the zombies, we are quite sexually active. Quite!”

Cauley no longer gives the appearance that he is the cock of the walk; he knows that he is. As Cauley peacocks, tension settles on the room; it is oppressive, like a wet blanket.

Sam points an accusatory finger at Cauley. “Your fucking men should not have been sneaking around, spying on us.”

Cauley smiles evilly. “As I am sure your boy told you, I have taken over the Adventist’s complex. I am holding them hostage. I will start killing hostages if I don’t get what I want, right now. Maybe we’ll have a bar-be-que.”