Muts Read online

  We smiled, but we knew there weren't any hallucinogens anywhere around us, not for lack of trying. At least the extensive search meant that we had a collection of every type of edible vegetation that still exists in the area, which isn’t much, unfortunately. Everything was dead now, and it didn’t seem like anything other than a few blades of grass was hearty enough to grow back.

  As everyone eventually finished eating and chatting with James about where he came from we all agreed he could have a room here too. His story was the same as ours. Regular life, the bombs going off, chaos, discovering he was turning into a mutant, then just trying to survive. The relief on his face when we offered for him to live here made grief slice through my chest. I had to remind myself that this is exactly why we put up the lanterns, to lead others like him to safety. We were doing our best under these circumstances, and I can’t keep beating myself up because I can’t help everyone. Before we knew it, dinner was over and the three of us were standing in front of James’ future room on the second story.

  “Now, ground rules. Don’t go in any door that’s closed or has an X on it, anything you dirty you clean immediately, and don’t break anything. But, you can organize your room how you please.” Carrie swung open the door for him, and the bliss in his face faded when he saw that his new room used to be a nursery or a junk room. Discarded toys littered every surface in the cramped space, with two cribs dominating a whole wall.

  “Well, enjoy kiddo.” She swung the door shut in his shocked face and quietly chuckled to herself. We started heading back down the hall, our steps muffled by the thick carpet.

  “It wouldn’t kill you to be less… dramatic, Carrie.”

  “Oh, you mean earlier with the kid? Come on, think about it. I look like a terrifying vampire. Why not play it up? I could name so many girls from my high school that would quite literally murder someone to either look like me or be screwing someone who does.” She shot me an evil grin. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her as we entered her room. I technically live across the hall, but now I mainly use my space to sleep. Since Carrie lived here before the bombs fell, her room is incredible. Every wall was either covered in half-finished paintings or hidden behind over-stuffed bookcases. I naturally headed to the large bay window that faced the sprawling yard and curled up on the seat, draping my favorite thick knit blanket over my legs. Another perk of Carrie’s house was that she had more blankets and pillows than I could count.

  “If he really has been walking for two months nonstop, I’m surprised he even made it this far.” Carrie commented as she tied an apron around her waist. I watched her twist her long, dark ponytail into a bun while I considered what to say.

  “Well, most of us are from this area. But, look at Richard. He traveled for weeks, and he’s just lucky that he ran out of gas only a few miles from us.”

  “Speaking of mistakes, I keep wondering if leaving the lanterns were one…”, she rummaged around in her paint box while I flipped to my place in my book, “I know it brings people like James here, but think about all the others we’ve had to deal with. We’ve buried too many bodies for my taste…”

  I let her words dissolve in the air while I looked out the window at the dead grass and dark pit hidden behind bushes at the far treeline. I try to avoid thinking about how many people we’ve had to kill. It really bothered me how you couldn’t ever be too comfortable, you had to be wary of everyone. Every kind of mut can be dangerous, no matter their appearance or mutation. Carrie is one of those few that don't seem dangerous at first, but after you’ve seen her rip someone’s throat out with her new fangs you can’t help but be wary of any type of mut. She picked up a canvas and placed it on her easel, angling it towards me for a good view. I immediately sat up and positioned my book.

  “Who are you going to paint after this?”, I asked conversationally.

  “I would do Richard, but he looks so normal. Just a misogynistic ass with glasses fused to his face...”, she glanced up at me, mentally measuring, “But I guess I should finish the ones I’m already working on first.”

  I nodded in agreement even as I looked over to her painting of Allana drying in a corner. Seeing how well the shafts of light played off of her mirrors, I had to appreciate Carrie’s abilities with a paintbrush. I dropped my eyes back down to my book, prepared to sit in silence for a long time, when she bustled over and started attempting to part my hair.

  “Why is your hair so curly? I can’t even get a good look at your antlers.”

  “Maybe if we did this when they grew in some more we wouldn’t be having this problem. I don't even have two points on my antlers yet, I look more like a goat than a deer.”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped back to view her work. She nodded then walked back to the easel.

  “I think I’m going to fill in how your eyes are darkening, but keep everything else on you like normal except for your antlers… I’ll wait for them to grow in before I finish that part …and I like how the fur is growing down your neck and the sides...”, she muttered as she got her palette out and grabbed her brushes.

  “Whatever works for you.”, I responded without even listening to her, angling my book for a clear view without having to move my head. We continued on in silence, but I couldn't help but to glance away from the words on the page to watch the soft white dust from the storm settle on the window sill as the sky darkened.

  Chapter Two

  Carrie

  I poked my head into the library, where I was sure to find Allana and her brother Matthias. She was leaning back in her wooden chair, in front of my grandmother’s antique chess board, the very image of relaxation. I couldn’t help but to think how lucky it was that my family didn’t own a lot of soft materials. She accidentally sat on one of my loveseats once, and it took us weeks to get all of the cotton and cloth from around her mirrors. Her opponent, however, had his head cradled in his hands as he stared at the chess pieces with obvious pain. His messy dark hair was sticking up in every direction, and I’d bet money that he was losing spectacularly. By the way his thin eyes were squinting at the board, I knew I was right.

  “Hey guys, Sasha and I were talking about starting a poker game in the front room. Wanna join us?”

  Allana looked up at me while her brother kept staring at the board with confusion written all over his face. It was a testament to the level of boredom we were at that he consistently played against her even though he’s never won a game.

  “Well, Carrie, that depends on who ‘we’ is.”, she said pointedly with one eyebrow raised. I sighed and leaned against the polished cherry wood of the grand piano that Matthais had claimed for his own the second he stepped foot in this room. I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s the only reason why Allana agreed to have the library become their personal space. He really was an amazing pianist, and the music he created did really help with making our circumstances less bleak. At the end of the day, I would’ve offered the room to them just to have music again, even if they didn’t ask initially.

  “No, Maria will not be there. Tonight we’re having some kind of stew, so she’s been growing in the kitchen all day.”, I said, rolling my eyes. Those two could fight over anything. We once had to chop over a foot of Maria’s hair off after it got tangled in Allana’s mirrors during one of their many arguments. Allana thought it was hilarious, Maria...disagreed. I laid down an absolute rule that they would never be allowed in the same room, other than meal times, for obvious reasons, but I had dealt with enough property damage from those two already. Luckily they hadn’t gotten into it in quite some time, and I was hoping that the trend would last.

  “Then we’d love to.”, she said as she stood, turning her head to her brother, “Matty?”

  He looked up at her and leaned back, letting out a groan.

  “Can we finish this game at least?”, he begged, “I just had another idea. If I move this one here, and this one here, then you can’t get me.”

  She leaned over and deftly replicated hi
s moves with her own in between, then flicked over his king.

  “Checkmate.”, she called over her shoulder cheerily as she left. He sat there in silence staring at his fallen king for a moment, then gave an exasperated sigh and stood.

  “This is insanity.”, he muttered, looking down on the board with a look of disgust on his face.

  “You’re the one who keeps asking her to play you. You have to be at least a little masochistic.” I pointed out.

  He just shrugged in response, and we headed downstairs to the front parlor. Sasha already had the table set up and was deftly shuffling the cards while James was avidly trying to learn the rules of poker by flipping through a little booklet. Watching Sasha perform a complicated flourish, I reminded myself to ask her where she picked up the skill. Did she work at a casino at one point or something? I knew she was big into outdoor activities, but shuffling cards like a seasoned Vegas dealer did not fit her granola image.

  I bit back a smile when I looked over at James who was looking more befuddled by the second. He had been with us for a few weeks now and he was obviously much, much happier and healthier. Well, he’d be happy until we were done thrashing him. We’ve been playing poker together for months, he had obviously never played before, and he didn’t have any kind of poker face. This was going to be an absolute bloodbath.

  Everyone quickly settled in and immediately began betting. I found a giant pink bucket full of coins leftover in one of my parent’s wardrobes months and months ago and they made excellent chip replacements. After far too few rounds, everyone was completely broke and Matthias had a mountain of coins next to him and an annoyingly wide grin plastered across his face.

  “Now, this is a game.”, he pulled the last few coins towards himself gleefully, “We should play this more often, Lana. It might be good for you. Humbling, even.”

  She crossed her arms and gave a derisive snort.

  “Don’t be an asshole, or we can go right back upstairs, and I’ll teach you something about being humble.”

  Everyone began laughing at the same instant that Sasha froze. Her head swiveled to the front door while her eyes widened enough that I could see what white of her eyes hadn’t been discolored by her mutation. I couldn’t even say or do anything before she darted out of her chair to run to the pantry door in one of her disturbingly quick bursts of speed. If she thought that we needed to prepare for action, then I trusted her. I was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that her mutation was improving her hearing, and this was a good indicator; I wasn’t going to doubt her now. I ran and whipped out my machete from behind the end table, then turned to yell at everyone else to move into position, but they were already rushing to their stations. A warm feeling of pride filled my chest. We really were becoming a team, and I couldn’t be prouder of them.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sasha swivel her now loaded gun at the door. The heavy door banged against the wall, and an absolute giant of a blonde man burst through. He slammed the door shut behind him, quickly locking it before he braced all of his weight against it as if to keep something out.

  “Help me, please! They’re right behind me!”, he begged us, fear making his eyes bulge. He gritted his teeth and he pushed himself harder against the door as whatever was outside started frantically trying to beat it in. By then, everyone with offensive skills was in position, and everyone else was far away while James tucked them in the safe room. Allana hid to the side of the door, waiting for her cue beside the stranger.

  “How many are there?”Allana asked, looking down on him. When they made eye contact, he blanched with renewed horror at the side of her shiny, jagged body so close to his. Luckily, he worked through this new terror quickly enough to answer her. At least he had some kind of backbone.

  “Three, I think. I didn’t really have a chance to count.”, he almost shouted, trying to be heard over the frantic pounding that was making the door shake on its hinges. James streaked into the room, and quickly dropped to his stomach between my legs, reaching one arm out as far as he could across the floor. Again, that sense of pride filled me. Even the new kid was holding his own, if he was back this quickly that meant that the plan was running right on time. The four of us looked at each other and nodded in understanding. This was something we’d prepared for, and, as usual, I was right to plan ahead.

  “Alright,” Sasha said, cocking the gun, “Open it, drop, then quickly roll away.”

  “She does mean quickly, you don’t want to get in our way.”, I warned him.

  He barely managed to turn the lock when they burst through, shrieking incoherently.

  They were definitely cannas, they had the unnatural pulsating movement and a vacant hunger burning in their eyes that was unmistakable. Their oozing wounds are absolutely disgusting, it’s easy to pause to stare in horror, but this isn’t our first time dealing with them. If he counted correctly, it should take us less than half a minute to kill them all.

  Sasha’s gun shot exploded, knocking the first rabid mut down. Without pause, Allana pivoted from the wall and swung her arm into the next one's neck, grunting loudly at the effort of her blow. His neck became embedded on the six-inch-long shards lining her arm, and she used the momentum to swing him to the ground and out of our way. The third streaked through the doorway, leaping over her dying companions, and landed right where I wanted her. Seamlessly James’ hand shot out, grabbing her ankle, and shocking her with enough juice to freeze her midstep. With a grim smile, my machete swung out to behead her before deeply embedding in the shiny wood of the staircase, cutting off her unhinged scream. Damnit, I always loved that banister.

  With the first three out of the way, I caught sight of a final canna flinging his body up the porch steps, and I quickly dropped to the floor and out of Sasha’s way. She managed to get a clean headshot before he even crossed the threshold, her aim and timing were flawless as usual. Thank god or whoever for that woman. I didn’t release my breath until his body pitched backward and crumpled at the bottom of the porch steps, and a still silence was left in their wake. It seemed the stranger missed one when he counted, but that’s why we always prepared for extras. It’s hard to count when you’re running like that.

  Allana grabbed her canna’s head by his hair and pried its neck off of her arm, most of his wound still oozing out from around her mirrors. She dropped his still twitching body to the ground with a disgusted shudder that worked its way up her spine. Without another word, she headed straight upstairs for a shower as James hurried outside to check for any more unwanted visitors before he quickly locked the door behind him. The stranger was hunched against the wall, breathing heavily, and watching us with thinly masked terror in his eyes. Sasha slid another bullet into the chamber and pointed it at him. I ran my hand over the deep divot in the wood with a furrow between my brows. It’d be a miracle if this entire house didn’t get completely destroyed within a year.

  “What are you?”, I questioned him without looking his way. I didn’t feel the need to keep him under watch, between him unable to move from hyperventilating and Sasha’s gun trained on him, I wasn’t worried. He held up his hands in surrender and said quickly between breaths, “My name is Clint. I’m just a human, and I don’t have any kind of mutation, I promise. I’m just lost.”

  After what we just witnessed, she decided to give him some leniency, and I silently agreed as she lowered the gun. It also helped him keep his brains from decorating my pretty wallpaper that he was obviously just a human, if he had a mutation at all it would be obvious or he would’ve used it to save his life. And if he didn’t have a mutation that was useful in a fight, then he was no threat at all. I ran my fingers over the depression in the banister again, frustration making my brow furrow. If my father was still alive, he’d never let me forget how much damage had been done to his precious ‘estate’. With a weary sigh, I dropped my gore covered machete on the end table.

  “How long were those things chasing you?”, I asked Clint, nudging the first one Sas
ha shot with my boot.

  “No idea, but it’s been a while. I hit your road and just kept going until I saw the house.”, he was finally upright and could speak between breaths, but his eyes didn’t leave the corpses lying at his feet, “What… what’s wrong with them?”

  “It’s a lot to cover, basically they didn’t take to their mutations as easily as we did.”, Sasha said, ending the conversation pointedly. Matthias came in with his yellow rubber gloves and a barrel and silently got to work cleaning up the rapidly pooling blood spilling from their bodies. It was sad to say that we had corpse clean-up down to a science at this point, but that at least meant that we didn’t have any obvious bloodstains. Front doorway excluded.

  Sasha and I led Clint into the living room and sat him down on a couch in the corner to get him out of the way. He had to wait until Allana was done in the bathroom, but he looked filthy and I wanted him to be ready to hop right in the shower whenever she was done. Thank goodness the house was hooked up to well water, so we still had that; electricity was easy enough to live without. But when someone as dirty as him showed up, I was extra grateful. His ragged hair seemed to be blonde at one point, but it was so matted and covered in dirt and gore I couldn’t tell anymore. Maria walked through holding her cleaning supplies, and her nose crinkled in distaste at the sight of Clint sitting on the couch. I couldn’t blame her, the entire house was a spotless masterpiece, thanks to her, yet we brought in the very definition of filth. She was the only person other than me who seemed bothered by how blood stains the upholstery.

  Sasha explained to Maria that he wasn’t going to be a problem, but she still gave him a haughty, disapproving look as she swept through to begin wiping the blood off of the walls and floors while Matthias wheeled the barrel holding what was left of our visitors into our mass grave outback. All things considered, we were lucky that it was constantly freezing outside. If we still had hot summers like before everything happened, the rotting smell would probably level the house. Sasha quickly went into the kitchen to find him some food and water, leaving me to make introductions. He thanked her profusely when she returned and started hastily gulping down the water.