Steampunk Zombie

Adrian stood on the whitewashed porch and yawned. His mother’s house was large, a beautiful two stories of amber brick and manila molding amidst a few acres of cattle farmland. He listened to the deepened snorts of the nearby Hereford bull. It’s red coat rippled along the animal’s thick muscle as the beast dug his roan hoofs into the dry earth. He huffed heavily, yellow mucus blowing from his wet white nostrils onto the weathered corral post. He tossed his head back and forth, his taut hocks locking together as the animal groaned. Adrian frowned at the bull’s unusual behavior.

The day was warm, peaceful and slow. As the young man stood alone on the porch, he noticed how silent the farm seemed to become around him. Aside from the occasional protest from the bull just a few yards to the left of the house, Adrian could hear no other animal from the pine tree woods nearby. His mother’s farmlands were vast, a several acres larger than that of his distant neighbors. While their lands were covered in white fluffy bunches of cotton, Adrian’s mother’s farm was adorned with red cattle. There were those who considered her farming choice to be a peculiar one amongst the others in the Black Belt territories of Alabama, and there were others who admired her strategic move. The income she procured from her prized beef was enough to support both her and her twenty-seven-year-old son. As well as have elaborate family dinners for their extended relatives every week. Adrian did not enjoy those days.

Turning away from the Hereford bull, Adrian’s black boots clicked against the porch floor as he crossed to the other side. A cloud of dust caught his attention in the distance. He lit up a cigarette as he watched the cloud grow closer. It was another relative coming to dinner. Adrian knew who it was. She was late every time.

Chunks of dirt flew from the animal’s black hooves, hitting its gray underbelly. The woman dug her heels into its sides, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Adrian’s lips curled upward. He shook his head, partly tired of trying to understand the purpose of this woman’s desire to showoff her riding skills. Adrian’s lips curled around the white roll of tobacco. He exhaled before inhaling the white smoke.

The woman pulled on the reigns. Her horse came to a stop just in front of the white porch steps. Her thick brown curls were half pulled up, little ringlets landing across her neck. Her dress with a light lavender with white lace adorning the chest piece. Her boots, gloves, and small crooked top hat were the same pristine white. A small net fell from her curls, landing over her bright green eyes. She peered up at Adrian with a smirk.

“Eating alone like the ostracized schoolboy, I see,” she chortled.

“More like embracing humanity in its calmest form as opposed to partaking in idle gossip like I am sure you will soon be doing,” he responded. His smile was strained and very much forced.

The woman laughed as she slid from the horse. With each footstep she pried at the fingertips of her gloves. “You’re a brat,” she mused.

“You’re a bitch,” he stated.

The woman’s smirk never left her lips as she passed the man and entered into the full house. A raise of cries and greetings soon ensued and Adrian knew that she had taken her place amongst the family. He took a deeper drag from the cigarette before throwing the butt into the dirt.

“Shhhh,” he hushed as he walked down the steps. He reached up to place his large hand over the smooth nose of the heavily breathing horse. The animal neighed, bucking its head before nesting its muzzle into Adrian’s palm. The man pet the creature with adoration. It was a prized horse. Its Appaloosa coat was not only perfectly symmetrical, but its talent on the field was much to be desired.

“Eat something.”

Adrian’s connection with the animal was interrupted by a piece of heavily breaded chicken headed his way. It hit him in the chest, leaving a small grease stain across his white cravat. He wiped the crumbs from the fabric before glaring up at the woman. She grinned as he went to remove the tie.

“You looked ridiculous in it anyway,” she assured him.

“Unlike you, Rebecca, not all of us can afford a new outfit every day,” he huffed while trying to adjust the auburn vest that rest across his white dress shirt. The sleeves were puffed, held against him by brown garters.

The Hereford bull let out a guttural cry. Its drooping jugular swung from its neck as it shook its body. More liquids flew from his parted lips as it seemed to dance within the corral.

“What’s wrong with it?” the woman frowned.

“Not sure. It’s been acting this way for a few days now. Mother thinks it’s going mental,” Adrian said.

“I am inclined to agree with her,” Rebecca nodded.

The bull pushed against the corral post. He backed up before throwing its side against the bowed fence. Dirt flew from the wood. The bull snorted once again. It threw itself into the gate.

“Whoa!” Adrian cried. He bolted towards the corral, arms wide. He kept a good few feet from the fence but continued to follow the bull’s dark eyes. The animal huffed, taking a step back. It made to hit the fence again but Adrian jumped forward, waving his arms. The bull blew a wad of mucus instead. He let out a deep whine.

Adrian looked towards the backfield where the Hereford heifers were grazing. They seemed unfazed by the noises coming from the bull. There were about forty heads of cattle in the field and not one seemed to care about the abnormal behavior coming from their mate. They continued with their eating, their red coats stretching to accommodate their hefty appetites.

“Come into town with me,” Rebecca said as she led her horse over to the corral.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the bull and the heifers. He didn’t like how they were acting, but he was no veterinarian so the least he figured that he could do was go into town to talk to one. “Alright,” he said. “I need to speak with Dr. Johnson, anyway.”

Adrian walked around the house to the barn where his thoroughbred stood munching on a bale of hay. It let out a low neigh as the man approached him. Adrian ran his fingers through its black mane. The horse moved closer to Adrian, his warm body pushing against the man. Adrian quickly put on his saddle and reigns. He threw himself onto the house before riding towards the woman.

“We aren’t racing,” Adrian stated. “None of your horse tricks, either.”

Rebecca pouted. “Such a killjoy.”

The farm was a few miles outside of the nearest town. It was a small area, with a mere population of a few hundred individuals. It was a territory mainly complied of cotton farmers and their slaves. Those who resided in town where the more privileged, those who lived off of their daily profits from medicine, entertainment, food and spirits. It was an area that Adrian did not enjoy visiting.

“I don’t care how long we’ve been cousins; I’ve never been a fan of your constant silence,” Rebecca’s voice broke the silence.

“Agreed, only replace “silence” with “chatter,” grinned Adrian.

Rebecca frowned. She kicked the sides of the Appaloosa’s belly. It hastened its pace.

“Don’t,” warned Adrian through gritted teeth.

Rebecca shot him a devious smile before urging her horse to take off in a full gallop. She looked back over her shoulder to yell, “If you’re going to issue silence on this ride then at least let me have a little fun!”

The path they were traveling was open, a few trees on either side of the dirt trail. Rebecca dug her white boots into the stirrups, locking her legs so that she was standing as her horse raced further and further away. She kicked her right leg over. Grasping the horn, she twisted her torso so that she was riding in reverse. She sent a taunting wave to her cousin. Adrian rolled his eyes before forcing his own horse into a gallop.

Rebecca laughed. She squeezed the sides of the saddle with her thighs before slowly letting herself drop. She continued to roll until her face was pressed into the underbelly of the horse. She climbed up the other side, digging her heels into the earth before jumping back into the saddle. Her horse never once faltered. Rebecca was a showgirl, a professional gymnast on a horse. Some of her tricks brought horror to her family, their hearts stopping on an occasion or two. But this woman was carefree and talented, a gem among the others in her troupe.

She slowed, allowing a very perturbed Adrian to catch up with her. “Would you like to talk with me now?”

Adrian glared. “I could punch you right now.”

“Awww, Adrian, you would never hit a lady,” she teased.

“No, but I would hit you,” he retorted.

Rebecca rolled her hazel eyes. “No wonder you still live with your mother.”

“Someone has to take care of the farm.”

“Your mother has fifteen slaves to take care of the farm. You don’t need to be there. You should come with me on the next show. We are headed into all of the big cities! You should see some of the machines these places have. Their inventions are some of the most amazing things that I have ever laid my eyes upon, Adrian, and if you too knew how they worked then you would be amazed, as well!” Rebecca said. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was heavy. Adrian could hear the excitement in her voice growing deeper.

“I’m not interested in inventions,” he said.

“But Adrian, there’s a balloon that can lift people into the air! And boats that run on steam and pipes! There are these new motors that can move buildings!”

“Really, Rebecca. I am not interested.”

Rebecca let out a long sigh. She reached down to pet the sweating neck of her horse, “I named him Gizmo after all I’ve seen. What is yours called?”

“I’ve never named him.”

“Why not? All things deserve a name.”

Adrian cast his cousin a shaded look. “I just call him horse.”

“You’re never going to get married, are you?”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed, while Rebecca’s smile broadened. His mother and her father were the only children of Bernard Snapp, a violent man who had excluded himself from his family nearly a decade ago. While Rebecca’s parents went on to have four successful children, Adrian’s father had died, leaving his mother with him as an only child. Their family had a history of disappointing instances, causing Bernard to move away and barricade himself in his work. Despite their bitter arguments, Rebecca was the only relative that Adrian could stand to be around. Their bond was forged in hatred yet grew out of a desire to protect one another despite their differences.

Their conversing remained stagnant. The trail they were on soon fanned out into a patch of tall grass. Just beyond the field was the active town where many Black Belt trades took place. The hooves of their horses pressed firmly against the dry earth. Tall stocks of yellow grass blew in the warm air. A chorus of crickets chirped a few yards to their left. Adrian’s fists tightened around the leather reigns. His knuckled grew white. He hated the town.

Not many paid them much mind as they trotted into town. Many were too busy loading up their horses and wagon’s with groceries and a few assorted items. The town was busiest at the end of the week. Many new products would arrive and the stores would be eager to stock them all up front. It was a small town, with just two rows of buildings and a long porch to connect them all. The fronts of the shops were decorated with the items that each one sold: a few apples and carrots here and a few gavels and horseshoes there.

“I just needed to stop in to see Elis. She has a pearl necklace I ordered for my next show,” Rebecca said after dismounting her horse. She began to tie the reigns to the post outside of the general goods store. Adrian followed suit. “You can either come with or I can meet you back here in a bit.”

“I can just – “

Adrian never got to finish his sentence. A woman’s loud shriek and a neighing horse cut him off. Their attention was pulled to the opposite side of the town where two brown horses were pulling a medium sized stagecoach. There was no coachman to guide the rattled animals. Instead, the two creatures were bucking and pulling recklessly through the main street. People screamed, jumping onto the walkway along the shops to get out of the pathway of the loose stagecoach.

As it neared, Adrian wrapped his long arms around the petite middle of his cousin. He pulled her against his chest just as the two horses flew past them. He kept her close and they both watched as the animals charged directly for the barrels of fruit outside of the general market. A large man in a white apron stood on the porch with a shotgun. He pointed the weapon at the two beasts that neighed and kicked their front hooves into the air. The man reached a hand out to grab at the reigns. He hushed the horses and for a moment the town was calm again.

Nobody seemed to have the will to move. The horses’ coats were dark with sweat. The sclera’s of their eyes were a veiny red. The storeowner tried to get them to stand still, but there was something still bothering them.

Some men dared to step closer. Adrian was one of them. He kept his cousin back with an arm held out. He craned his neck, trying to see past the dark curtains of the stagecoach windows. There was something moving inside the wagon. A few people jumped as the door was suddenly kicked open. A man fell out. His back was arched. He kept his head down, his chin pressed to his chest. There was a frayed hole in his top hat. His hair looked gray not from age but by lack of sunlight. His coat seemed faded. The stitching on the checkered elbow pads on the sleeves was coming loose.

Adrian walked up behind the man. He watched as the stranger’s movements were rigid, ticking like the arms of a clock. Adrian reached out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder. He turned around; only he looked like no man that Adrian had ever seen before. His eyes were yellow with black rims. A sickly greenish-gray hue surrounded his eyes, like the color skin turns when a child is extremely malnourished. The skin along his neck was graying, the purple veins pressing firming against the thinning skin. Like from a bad sunburn, patches were peeling. He parted his cracked lips to let out a shrill cry. The smell of rotting flesh escaped from his throat. Adrian stepped back, coughing.

The man lunged forward, his hands grabbing for Adrian’s chest. Adrian pushed on his shoulders, shoving the man to the left. The man let out a guttural cry. It was much too shrill of a noise to come from a man his size and age. Adrian’s brown eyes scanned the surrounding townsfolk. The other man jumped for him again, his long yellow nails narrowly missing the young man’s jaw. Adrian shoved him back harder.

“What the hell, man!” he cried.

The man just screamed. His teeth were black and rotted. He charged at Adrian once more, but was stopped when a bullet flew into the back of his patched head. With wide eyes, Adrian watched the man fall to the ground. He looked up to see a trail of smoke drifting from the end of the barrel of a shotgun. The owner of the general store slowly lowered the weapon. His eyes were just as wide.

Another shriek filled the town. This one was higher and carried longer. Before the man in the white apron could even consider firing the last round of the shotgun, a woman jumped from the stagecoach. Her jaw had dropped so low that the skin along her cheeks as ripped, dark blood falling down her neck and pooling at her cleavage. Her eyes were a darker yellow, her once golden hair even more dull. Ripped patched of skin were completely missing off of her arms. Her elongated jaw latched onto the storeowner’s arm. He bellowed, dropping the shotgun into the dirt. The woman threw her head back and forth until a significant chunk of the man’s arm was gone. He fell back, eyes wide as bright blood squirted from his veins.

Someone else had grabbed a rifle. More screams joined in as two more jumped from the stagecoach. Adrian’s pace hastened as he backed away to where his cousin stood in shock. Her face was white.

“Rebecca, get back on the horses,” Adrian ordered.

The young woman remained frozen, her wide eyes drying up as he watched three people feeding off of the flesh of the storeowner. A man tried to rip one of them off. They turned on him, dragging him down, too. And when the blacksmith brought out his own pistol, the woman jumped at his arm.

“Rebecca!” Adrian hissed. His voice was rapidly growing lost in the chorus of screams that soon filled the town.

Adrian moved away from the horses so that he could reach for his cousin. He gripped her arms, her muscles tensing. His eyes followed her gaze onto where the storeowner’s body had been abandoned. His throat was gone and his chest was no longer moving, but his feet and hands were twitching. His skin was darkening. He sat up at a pace much faster than a man his size should have. He seemed alert yet empty.

“Oh my god,” was all Adrian could get out.

Another body flew towards them. Adrian tried keeping it back. He pushed his cousin behind him so that he could fight off this warped woman. Her teeth were snapping together. Two clicked against each other and seemed to shatter upon contact. Adrian grabbed her wrists and shoved his foot into her gut. He turned her around so that her arms were twisted and her back was to his chest. He watched her bones pop from her elbows, tearing her skin. Both disgusted and shocked, he let her go. She turned around and screamed.

“Adrian, move!”

The man turned just in time to see his cousin bringing a knife down into the woman’s shoulder. The woman paused for a moment. She looked at the being that had just shanked her. She hissed, reaching out. Confused, Rebecca started to retreat from the woman, leaving the knife embedded into her spongy flesh. She growled, her feet falling over each other as she changed her target.

Adrian went up behind her. Her grabbed the sides of her head. He pulled up and twisted, removing her head in a way that should have not been so effortless. He dropped it, the flesh sticking to his hands. His mind was numb. He could not longer hear the screams around him or feel the heat of the bullets that flew around him.

“Adrian, come back to me!” Rebecca cried. She grabbed at her cousin’s wrist and pulled him into the alley. They dropped down in between two barrels. The woman buried her head into the rapidly pulsating chest of her cousin. “What is going on!”

“I don’t know, Rebecca,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through her matted hair. “Just stay quiet for now.”

Adrian was a man not often susceptible to fear. What he felt now was a combination of befuddlement with a rather precipitous amount of curiosity. His brief moment of immobility had been replaced by a surge of adrenalin. While his first and second thoughts were to keep his cousin safe and to get to the horses, there was a new thought creeping in that carried a great deal of inquisitiveness.

Adrian’s shirt was growing damp from both his sweat and heavy breathing of his cousin. He brushed his fingertips across her back as they hid in the shadows of the ally. Every once in a while, Adrian would hear the scream or shout of an individual he thought he recognized. While none were personal friends of his, he knew many from having grown up along the fertile Black Belt.

A light shuffling made his hair stand on end. He pushed Rebecca further behind the barrels as the shuffling came closer. The smell of blood soon hit his nostrils. He knew one of them was making its way into the alley. They were defenseless. He hoped that it would just pass by.

The shuffling was sloppy, one foot dragging significantly lighter than the other. A low sniffle was soon audible. It didn’t sound threatening. Adrian dared to move forward. He pushed against the wooden side of the building so that his body moved past the barrels. There was a small figure, a child, moving down the shadows. His head was lowered, his dirty blond hair covering his eyes. His lips were parted. His right leg looked broken, but that didn’t seem the bother the boy when he tried to put pressure on it.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian whispered.

The boy stopped. He cocked his head. And with a scream, he lunged at Adrian. The man pulled back behind the barrels. The possessed child scrambled after him but its gimp foot caused him to fall. Adrian grabbed at the small boy’s neck, pushing his face into the dry mud to muffle his screeches. The boy kicked and squirmed, his energy not seeming to slow.

“He’s still breathing!” Adrian murmured back to his cousin. Rebecca’s eyes were wide. She couldn’t seem to move as she watched the man’s fingers tighten around the boy’s neck.

Recognizing that his cousin was too far gone to help him, Adrian desperately scanned the alley for an aid. His eyes landed on a rock about four feet from where he sat with the boy pressed against the earth. Adrian pushed his leg over the boy. With the toe of his boot, he managed to pull the rock towards him. He immediately brought it down upon the boy’s skull. The sound was not rich or sharp like the shattering of healthy bone, but instead dull and wet like the noise that comes from the dropping of a rotted pumpkin after season.

Adrian didn’t dare stop after just one hit. He brought the rock down again and again and again. He did so until the boy grew still, and even then did it a few more times. His hand was just as red as the rock. Realization hit him and he suddenly grew disgusted. The smell made him choke. He dropped the rock, retreating back into the shadows of the barrel.

As the cousins stayed buried deep in the darkness of the alley, the town around them continued to roar in chaos. They sat with their knees pulled into their chests, afraid of the attention that their own breathing would bring to them. The blood on Adrian’s hand began to harden. He felt the stickiness congeal against his skin. It burned almost.