Zombie Ears [Cotter]

[Mora]

Continuation from Culled by the Mark.

“I’m going to change my clothes.” She told Cotter, as she let the man continue to admire the gun she had left for him on the bed. Her moss orbs slipped into the neighbouring bedroom, where she grabbed a pair of UGG boots, and some black leggings and a green woolly jumper. The woman loved her woolly items. She was Obsessed with them, actually. As she changed quickly she grabbed a small dagger, and slid it her boot, before slinging her rifle on her back, choosing to leave her blade at home. She was never good with a blade, anyhow.

“Come on” She said as she headed to the middle fadeportal, it wasn’t anything spectacular, just a shimmering in the wall, a distorted wall even. It looked out of place compared to the other walls. As she stepped through. Her body being pulled until she put her feet back onto the concrete of the floor, standing just outside of the flats. Her eyes peered around for any nasties that lurked around but none in sight for now. She made her way over to the building, and leaned against the wall. Waiting for Cotter to come through.

There was a good chance she would bump into some of her own blood here, they did like to train hard and this was the most obvious place to train. As she waited she began to look over her gun, pulling a cloth from its hiding place she began to clean the gun, making sure it was ready to shoot some zombies, or anything else that comes their way. She wouldn’t be surprised if a Feral Vampire tried to crush them. They were wild creatures. Mooncalfs too, they were strong, misshapen creatures. They were the ones you had to stay away from.

A moment later, Cotter landed onto the concrete as she smiled at him, she noticed the gun at his side. She opened her arms out. The cloth and gun still in her right. “This Is the QZ.” She said. “Home to all things grotesque.”

[Cotter (DELETED 6051)]

After stepping outside the bedroom, Cotter confirmed that he was indeed brought inside a crypt, and a well-kept one at that. No dust lessened the friction between the stone floor and the rubber soles of his tennis shoes. Given no warning, he gaped as the solid wall distorted around Mora when she walked into it. First he stuck the barrel of his rifle through, and and walked into it only when he was convinced he wouldn't somehow get trapped inside.

Faded double lines glowed yellow against the blackness, painted on grayed-out asphalt. The street lamps were dead, and not for lack of power, though that hardly mattered for a vampire's cat-like night vision.

“This Is the QZ.” She said. “Home to all things grotesque.”

Mora's sweeping gesture compelled Cotter to take a peek at his surroundings. Turning around, he made a note of the shimmer in the brick wall surrounding the exterior grounds of the Asylum to the east, the abandoned apartment building to the south, and the metallic wall guarding against trespassers heading north or west from outside the quarantine zone. For a quarantine, it seemed quite sparse from where he was standing.

The ruined building across the street drew his eye, and he contemplated what the damage was caused by. He told himself, whether undead plague or sickness, there might still be people in here trying to stay alive - "mortals", rather - in storm shelters, basements, maybe taking up residence inside the buildings they looted. One would think there would be tents with beds, facilities for decontamination, people organizing an effort of some minimal magnitude. Clearly no one was being helped here, the sickness was not being managed or contained with any organized effort.

In any case, the causes he could think of - the earthquake, the undead he had yet to see(or hear), or possibly rioting - were all potential causes of the broken windows and the unhinged door to the building's interior, but the debris, from the same building or another, was clearly the mark of a natural disaster - the earthquake, or possibly the breach. There was enough of it to make entry to the building impossible due to the lack of "building" to enter.

"Great," he responded, with barely a hint of enthusiasm. "Lead the way."

[Mora]

Mora did just that, she led the way through the small quarantined zone. It was quiet, aside from a few vampires new and old meandering in and out of the buildings, some were covered in dry blood, some even dangled a zombie ear necklace from their necks. Weird hobbies – and then you had those who came out with their blades caked in blood. Dripping onto the concrete floor, as she shook her head. She turned around to face Cotter. “It’s not so bad, here.” She said. “You’re doing a justice by eradicating the zombies, and other things that lurk here. The mistakes even if you want to see it that way.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly. The woman knew she was going to get dirty. It had been a while since she had come out to train, she used to train a lot at the start of her new vampire life – but since she had opened up her businesses they took all her energy. She had appearances to keep up. Tonight though, she would let her hair down and train with Cotter. To help him ease into this life.

Grabbing her blonde hair she scrunched it up into a ponytail and wrapped it in an elastic band. She had already washed it once today, she didn’t want to risk washing it again and possibly getting a split end. She entered into the abandoned fire station first. Passing by the fire truck that had been left to rust. She slipped into the door with the new childe in tow.

“Should be a few things to kill in here.” She told him as she slowly began to make her way through the building, meaning down hallways until she heard the groaning, it was unmistakable. You couldn’t NOT hear it. Readying her gun she moved towards the noise, motioning for Cotter to do the same. There it was, two zombies stumbling down a hallway together. One was a little fast than the other, and as soon as it saw Mora and Cotter it made an aggressive groan and began to shuffle their way. Mora didn’t flinch as she lifted the already raised gun a little higher, as she took one precise shot and took the zombie out, without breaking a sweat. The bullet entered the undead creature between the eyes, and it fell down onto the ground, dead. She then turned to Cotter.

“Take that one out.” She pointed the lone zombie who still shuffled their way. “If you mess up, I am here to help.” She threw him a wink, and let him have a go.

[Cotter (DELETED 6051)]

With practiced movement, Cotter raised his weapon and sidestepped around the corner with the barrel pointing down the hall. The 'zombies' 20 feet away looked far worse than anything covered during the outbreak. Skin, festering and colored tan from the accumulation of waste and mold, loosely clung to the ribs they outlined. The fresher one reacted first and lurched forward. Its head jerked back from the shot, and Cotter shuddered as it fell forward and smacked its mouth against the thinly-carpeted wooden floor. His turn. Flies buzzed as pale milky eyes scanned the lifeless bodies 10 feet from the older corpse's grasp, registering sources of meat. It shambled forward on withering limbs, mouth open with anticipation, giving its breathless moaning a mucous, guttural vibration.

The squeeze on the trigger was delayed. The zombie recoiled from the shot briefly, and continued its advance. Another round barely missed the kneecap, but shattered enough ligament to topple it. As Cotter placed the barrel against its temple, the thoughts came flooding in again. Most prominent among them was a very basic desire, a longing. No words, no thinking, no visions of savory steak, burgers, or milk pouring over a bowl of cereal. Just the image of what was already happening in front of it and a starving, gluttonous wanting: to pull the meat in close and take it into itself with tooth and claw.

A thin, lackluster splatter caught more on the head of the motionless body than on Cotter's shoes. He only just now noticed the smell - the black blood, the skin, the superfluous opening now airing an invisible, pungent cloud that had been stewing inside from the wasting innards. Worse than the skunk he hunted, after which he vowed never to hunt skunk again. He held his breath, anticipating the simultaneous need to continue the autonomous activity and the desire to leave to avoid inhaling more of the noxious smells. Contrary to previous thoughts on the matter, he was actually relieved when he felt no physical compulsion to do so.

But he had messed up. It had taken three shots to bring the target down, the last one at point blank. "Ah hell," he murmured apologetically to his sire.

[Mora]

Mora held the gun that still steamed in her arms, she watched with morbid curiosity. She knew he was some form of hunter – he was out in the wilderness when she had met him. Which meant she had to be familiar with a gun, and well putting things down at least. She expect a quick, death for the zombie. Eyes not moving the corpse of the zombie she had put down moments ago, then her moss orbs fell to Cotter as he aimed up his shot. First shot he got the zombie, but it wasn’t enough to put it down. She gnawed on the inside of her lip with the tips of her fangs in a nervous manner.

Another shot fired and Mora was eager to see if he had finished it off and yet it still lived – but at least it was on the ground now. She watched as Cotter moved to meet it, and pressed the gun against the decaying flesh. The scent of death filled her nostrils, her head leaned backwards waiting to hear the deathly blow. There was no way Cotter could miss. The shot rang out. You could almost hear the skull breaking at the impact, the sound of skin tearing as the bullet went in one side, and came out the other. Even though it had taken three shots. He had still done what was asked of him, he had killed a zombie.

She brought her hands up and applauded him on his success. She could see the disappointment on his face as she shook her head at the man. “You did as I asked, you killed the zombie. Practice makes perfect, try again.” She told him as she lead the way deeper into the firestation. Three zombies advanced on them. Two were huddled together the other one, well he was on his own groaning as he shuffled towards them. She took a step back and let Cotter have his space. She leaned close to his ear. “Kill them all. As quick as you can, as there is a Mooncalf at our backs.”

She swivelled and began to load her gun. Each bullet slipping inside it’s hiding place. If Cotter finished those three zombies off in quick time, he could help her – or watch her take down a mooncalf.

[Cotter (DELETED 6051)]

The ringing in his ears resonated sharply. Better, vampire senses meant readjusting to stronger sensations, but it didn't muffle or drown Mora's voice. It was an odd choice of words. You did as I asked. The weight of failure lifted, and the weight of the secret world took its place around him, not carried, but subtly pressing down. Was he beholden to her now? He would have to think about it later. More had heard the bursts of thunder and came looking. It was 'search and destroy' for these zombies, raw and untactful method of the hunt, with barely any animal wit to improve upon or refine it. It would be the same for Cotter. He was hunting monsters now.

Whispers bore the truth to him from the threaded thoughts of minds within the quarantine zone: Tests failed, analyses turning up no cure, nothing useful, frustration, boredom, survivors scurrying about to avoid the ghosts that had come back to haunt them, young vampires wild and rogue alike taking advantage of the chaos.

They were much closer than he would have preferred or recommended for hunting with a rifle, but zombies apparently didn't go down without taking a beating, so he lined his aim up at center mass with the one nearest. The butt kicked his shoulder four times, and down went the first. He did not have to brace himself as hard against the recoil. He fired the shots quicker in succession than he'd known he was capable of. He was able to keep the iron sight on the next swaying, staggering target much easier, showcasing improved reflexes. It was euphoric. He reloaded and aimed at the third one charging weakly at him.

Time seemed to slow in that moment as he fired. He thought for a moment that he was watching a POV shot in a documentary on TV of an old woman being mowed down. A black, grimy humor coated her white-gray hair in a gruesome shawl, wrapping around her shoulders and down to her waste, covering what her nightie didn't. She slumped back, falling onto one of her fellow tenants, forming a pile while her dead, grayed eyes rolled back. For a moment, Cotter thought he caught a glimpse of her beneath the wrinkles and frown lines.

It wasn't, he knew that. The whispers were beginning to bother him again. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and focused, then shot a dirty look off to the side. He only snapped out of it and turned around when he heard an inhuman warbling behind him, competing with the banging of gunpowder. Was it just now happening, or had he been that out of it?

[Mora]

Mora continued to load the barrel of her rifle bullet by bullet each going slowly into the metal. She blinked, watching the mooncalf slowly approaching her. She heard the sound of bullets being fired off behind her, but she paid no attention to them. Cotter could look after himself against a small horde, or group for a better word of zombies. They couldn’t harm him. His instincts would kick in. This mooncalf on the other hand could hurt him so she inserted herself between him and the creature and planned to take it down.

Running her tongue along her lower lip before dragging it up and then lapping at her upper lip. Wetting the lips as she brought the fully loaded rifle up to her shoulder and rested the stock against her skin. She aimed up her gun with the mooncalf and pulled the trigger several times – each bullet hit the beast as it gave off a shriek. Ear piercing, even.

Mora grunted and swerved out the way as it took a swipe at her. Gratefully she avoided it. The mooncalf began to shuffle again, grunting. The deformed beast was disgusting to look upon, she didn’t look for too long at a time. Grabbing her rifle she launched herself at a sprint to the wall, running up tiles as she propelled herself into a backflip. Firing a mass amount of bullets into the creature. Several hit it all over, but one narrowly missed its heart. Causing the beast to collapse, dead.

After a moment she regained herself and turned her eyes to Cotter, who had been looking at her.

[Cotter (DELETED 6051)]

He stumbled back from the horror's attempted sweeping strike, disquieted by the scene - a young woman squaring off with an abomination the size of a bear, but with no such form. His gaze shifted between Mora and the few faces on the mooncalf, each fixed in vacant stares. The voices came back again. Sound of meat, eat, must see meat, must eat. The best he could do to translate for five other zombies in his mind, down other hallways and in rooms - scattered about, but close. As close as Cotter cared for at the moment, to open his mind in this place.

"I'll try to stay away from those, for now," he grimaced. "Back in the crypt, You said the elders 'sired', to make more of them? You sired me to save my life. Does that mean you're my 'master'?"

[Mora]

Mora found herself looking at her childe with a curious stare. He looked at the many faces on the mooncalf then to her. She moved over to its corpse and gave it a small kick, as if to confirm it was dead. “It’s dead.” She told him, as he finally looked at her face and she smiled at him, trying to ignore the fact that her last bullet had made the creature bleed, bleed to the point that the blood splatter from the impact had covered Mora’s beautiful face. She ignored it; every now and again she would open her mouth and lick her lips. As if trying to taste its blood. Mora was a curious person, someone will a lot of craziness chained beneath, that often surfaced unwillingly.

His question came then as she raised an eyebrow in thought. Yet, when he finished his comment she couldn’t help but laugh. Edging closer to the man before laying her hand upon his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. She began to walk away.

“I am not your master. I saved you from death – but saving you from death has bound you to me, not as a slave but you are my childe. You are connected to me, as am I to you. You are my responsibility in this new world. Not a parent, but a teacher.” She shrugged her shoulders as she turned to look at him fully with those forest green hues. “Do not ever think I am your master. I am not. I am Mora, your sire. The woman who killed you. Nothing more.”

[Cotter (DELETED 6051)]

Mora's short answer and long answer were one and the same, so perhaps she was one of the more lenient types. Whether there was a hidden compulsion or not, he would have to look into the Old Code to understand more. The connection she mentioned seemed like something that was not easily put into words; for that, he would have to wait and see. He allowed the the voices to give him a second opinion. You live, but you are dead. She saved you, but at a price, a price you accepted.

Cotter started as if he'd just hiccuped and didn't see it coming. Did he just now hear his own thoughts? His hope was torn between yes and no. That was nice and vague, now please shut your bumhole. He looked back at the dead elderly woman, letting go of a breath he never drew. "For a second, I thought I'd shot my grandmother-in-law. She doesn't live in these flats, but around this part of town. She was moving to a nursing home. I hadn't heard from her since it started, so I thought maybe she was under quarantine, that maybe they'd found a way to keep it from progressing with antibiotics."

He sighed. Now he knew what really happened, inferred in his pensive tone. He didn't think twice about sharing this. Something about Mora put him at ease. Could have been this connection, or several other things; her attempt to be his mentor of sorts, the fact that she'd saved his life and earned some trust or closeness, possibly coupled with how much younger she looked and thus the more innocent she seemed.

Note: the dead woman is not someone he knows.