The Creepers (Book 2): From the Past by Norman Dixon Page B

herself.
     
    Howard wanted to reach out, but
somewhere inside he heard his father warn him. Perhaps she was putting on a
show like the people in the old movies, like the man with the glasses. And then
he saw it, the dart of her eyes to something unseen. A weapon perhaps?
     
    “We-we didn’t have many women in our
platoon. They’re all gone, taken to who knows where. They actively sought them
out in the chaos, making sure not to kill them, but the men, Post and his
squad, I-I don’t know what to think.”
     
    “Why didn’t they take you?” Howard jabbed
at the debris fueled fire with a rusted piece of old car.
     
    “They didn’t know I was there.” She
stood and walked behind the wounded man. Pacing, she said, “I’m the best they’d
ever seen. Post told me himself. Nobody could find me, not even the Creepers.
But there were too many to pick off from a distance. They were so organized.”
The tears cut ribbons of pure, milky skin down her dirt covered face.
     
    “What did they want?” Howard continued
to poke at the fire, sending up sparks. The call of the coyotes was much closer
now. He hoped his little ruse would keep them occupied for the evening.
     
    “Your turn.” She smiled and continued to
pace. She moved with a bouncy, nervous energy.
     
    “My dad died today. I don’t exactly know
when he died, only that it was today. I wasn’t there to see him off. I saw him
after. I saw him in that suspended state. He looked so peaceful, almost fake,
like the mannequins laying in the dust of the past. A perfect representation of
what was. I imagined him watching the birds drift on the wind. I wonder what he
was thinking of. Probably mother, knowing him. I hope he saw her when the end
came. I hope he found in death everything he’d lost in life,” Howard’s voice
carried on the night, punctuated by the intermittent cries of the coyotes. Though
they were his own words, they shocked him. He’d never spoken to anyone in such
a manner. Not even his father. Howard looked up, awaiting her reply.
     
    Jennifer was gone.
     
    “Touching really,” she said from behind
him. The very familiar sound of a bolt chambering a round echoed off the
shattered buildings. “Take that rifle off slowly and lay it down. You even so
much as turn that head of yours and its lights out. How about you show me and
my little friend to your hidey hole.”
     
    Howard
slid the rifle from his shoulder. He heard his father somewhere in the past,
‘never let your guard down, son.’

CHAPTER 6
     
    Bobby could smell them before he even
reached the top of the dune. Baylor was somewhere behind him barking orders.
They stopped the train just outside what was left of a rural town. Nothing but
dust and dunes, a few skeletal remains of brick buildings gutted by time, and
sand and wind. Sparse bits of green worked against the pervasive rusty tableau.
Off in the distance, Bobby could see a vast plateau haloed by an angry storm.
It was moving fast behind the warm, dry desert wind. A rarity in these parts.
Bobby took it as an omen.
     
    The closer he got, the harder it became
for him to control the multitude of voices and images flashing through his
mind. He dropped to his knees, squeezing the rifle for stability. He brought
the strap to his mouth and bit down on it, focusing on the oily taste to
balance himself. As he calmed down, he began to take control of the riot inside
his brain.
     
    Building and moving his army against the
Folks had been easy. He’d had time to acquire and manipulate, grabbing a few
stragglers here and there, adding them over the course of the march, but now
the rotting minds came all at once.
     
    Bobby made it to the top of the dune.
Below him, a pit nearly twenty yards long ran the length of a burned out
building. A faded sign canted at an angle, its words long since sandblasted
away. From his vantage point he could see the tops of their heads, all hundred
plus Creepers. A swarm of flies buzzed above them like dirty