Raven Moon (2 page)

Rave smiled. “Actually, more like the Mob Squad.” A more fitting moniker for how ravens mobbed their targets.

Beth stared at Rave’s stiletto boots, black leather pants, red corset and long black feathered coat, and threw her an incredulous look. “How did you find us?”

“We spotted a swarm sniffing around and figured people were trapped.”

Beth sighed in relief. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Dave.”

They entered a small library and Beth walked over to a man on a motorized scooter. Rail thin with long gray hair, he looked more like a former Rolling Stones guitarist than a veteran. “This is Captain Dave Westover.”

Cool.
She’d never met a human military officer
.
Rave smiled at the old man and saluted, “Captain.”

He cocked his head at her. “You can’t be special forces.”

“No, sir, Aerial intelligence.” No point in mentioning Avian or bird intel, just yet. Winning their trust came first before blurting out their bird shifting abilities.

Dave yelled, “Huh?”

Barney raised his voice. “They’re here to help us, Dave.” Barney gave her team a double take. Clad in black leather and purple coats, they must look like characters from some video game. “I think.”

The captain wheezed a laugh. “What the hell for? There’s nowhere we can go and be safe.”

In command, Rave stepped forward and spoke loud enough for the nearly deaf and all the zombie ears throughout the Napa valley. “On the contrary, we have a safe haven in Yosemite National Park.”

Barney sat next to the captain and leaned in. “We’ve got another ghoul swarm outside our doors.”

“Huh?”

Barney sighed and repeated his comment louder. Dave shot Rave and her men a scolding look. “Damn it. You attracted them here!”

Beth pulled Rave aside and whispered, “Be patient with him, he knows more about infectious diseases than anyone else.”

Rave lifted a brow. “Were you a doctor?”

“Scientist. I once ran the tropical disease unit out of Walter Reed. My specialty was malaria, back then. This pandemic makes malaria and even Ebola look like a paper cut.”

“Hmm. Dr. Dora Adler can use your help.” Rave tried to figure what war he’d served in given his approximate age of seventy or eighty. Too young for World War II and too old for Iraq. “What war?”

Barney pitched in. “We are Vietnam Veterans.”

Beth laughed. “Cover model here probably thought you were from the second war.”

Barney quipped. “More likely by how Dave looks, the Revolutionary War.”

“Hey, I’m quite schooled in U.S. History,” retorted Rave. She had completed a Masters in Art History with a minor in fine art. She was tempted to tell them she completed high school by age sixteen. “And, don’t judge a book or person by its cover, especially while we’re saving your asses.”

Beth smiled, enhancing her big green eyes and elfin features. “I’m with you.” She lifted one prosthetic leg. “I’m so used to being judged I tend to do the same.”

Cashel lifted the blinds, not a pretty sight. Five zombies mouthed the glass with their bloody maws, making yum sounds. He closed the blinds and turned. “You were abandoned and yet you survived.”

“When they came to evacuate us, Dave said we were better off here. Ten of us agreed and stayed,” said Barney.

Dave scoffed. “I wasn’t in the mood for more of the government’s poor judgment calls.”

Cashel frowned. “Where are the other seven?”

Beth sighed and lowered her gaze. “Dead. We raided a supermarket a few months back and got trapped by a swarm. I was the only one who survived.”

Barney nodded. “Beth can run like hell with those bionic legs of hers.” He smiled at Rave. “You are far too young to remember the television series,
The Six Million Dollar Man
, about the bionic man.”

Rave scrunched her face. “Sounds familiar, didn’t the actor do hearing aid commercials?”

Barney quipped. “Dave could sure use bionic ears.”

“I heard that.” Dave scowled. “At least I have all my teeth.”

Beth ignored their banter. “Actually, Jim the security guard drove me back but he was bit and the next day turned.”

Barney smirked. “She’s an even better shot.”

Beth gave Barney the middle-finger salute.

Rave wondered if she and the bitten security guard had been lovers. “Sorry.”

Beth scoffed. “Jim was no big loss. He was a bully, but kept us supplied with local goat meat. Trust me. It was not hard putting a bullet in his head.”

Rave cocked her head. Was bully code for rapist? “That van out there, does it have gas?”

“Yes, I fueled it a few days ago. Always do after a food run.”

“Good, we’re going to get in and head toward our version of the Special Forces. They are about thirty minutes away in Sonoma. With plenty of ammo and even more lethal weapons.” Fangs and claws. Their team was also quite adept with recyclable sharp things, like swords, axes, and machetes.

Dave frowned. “Why should we go with you?”

Beth tried to reason with him. “We are low on ammo and I think the zombies followed my scent here a few days ago.”

The zombies pounded the walls now in greater numbers.

Rave met Dave’s eyes. “Trust me, Captain. We’re your only chance and like I said your knowledge of diseases will be appreciated.”

Dave threw up his arms. “What the hell! I only have two years left on my pacemaker.” He pointed a finger at her. “But, I’m bringing my scooter and my stash.”

Barney teased. “I think we can assume pot is now legal.”

Rave smiled. “For medicinal reasons?”

Dave crinkled a smile. “Got that right.”

Beth glanced at her stiletto boots. “Are you volunteering to get through that mob?”

Rave nodded. “Beccan, get the van and park it out back. In the meantime, pack your personal items. Don’t worry about clothes. We can raid malls later.” Rave glanced at Beth. A little color to her mousy gray hair and makeup would take off ten years. No more frumpy look. She could see her in a sexy green pantsuit. “I volunteer to give you a glamorous makeover.”

Beth frowned. “Are we back to judging book covers? Anyway, I don’t foresee black and white attire dinners and hot dates in my future.”

Rave blushed. She was trying so hard to being less narcissistic, and on Dora’s advice had dressed down and started applying less makeup. She called it being ‘down to earth’. “Sorry, what I meant was I would love to enhance your pretty features.”

Beth laughed. “If you get us to safety, I’ll let you put clown makeup on my face.”

Rave smiled. “Deal.” She walked to the window and lifted the blind. “Looks like the zombies are having a bad hair day out there.”

Cashel protested. “Princess, you must stay inside. Let me go.”

Rave sighed and shot him a pointed stare. “I’m the fastest flyer.”

Beccan nodded. “That’s true.” He smiled and added. “But I’m quite capable of keeping up.”

Beth raised a brow. “Princess?” She scoffed. “That explains the Vogue look and attitude.”

Rave gave her sheepish smile. “Long story.”

Beth narrowed her gaze. “And if you guys flew here, how come we didn’t hear a plane or helicopter? Heck, we didn’t even hear a car.”

“When I said I was the fastest flyer I meant I’m the fastest raven.”

Beth gave her an incredulous look. “The black bird? As in Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

“Not that morose, but yep, we are raven shifters.”

Barney turned to Dave and laughed. “Looks like they already got into your stash.”

Dave scowled at him. “More like they dropped acid.”

Rave winked at Dave. “I like you. You’re like the cool human granddad I never had.” She turned to Beccan. “We’ll fly out from the second floor and draw them away from the building.”

Beccan held his HK 416. “Yes, Princess.”

“Cashel, have them ready to board as soon as Beccan gets in the car.”

Beth shot her an incredulous look. “What about you?”

“Take a window seat and watch, but not for too long, we need to move, pronto.”

Beth narrowed her eyes. “Uh, huh.”

Rave and Beccan dashed upstairs and opened a window. She spread her arms and swooped down as a raven. Beccan followed. She smiled as the three humans gaped from the window. She dive-bombed a zombie, piercing his skull and pithed his brain with her sharp beak. Beccan took out two more, giving the wide-eyed humans more of a show. Rave landed behind the swarm and roused her feathers into place. She brushed her beak on the grass. She was a fan of zombie movies but had no taste for brains. At least not like the normal carrion eating natural ravens.

They shifted to their human forms and Rave shouted, “Hey, over here, dickheads.” She threw Beth a smile and turned back to the zombies. “Nevermore!”

As if someone had thrown chum to a pool of great white sharks, they turned, barked stuttering moans, clawed their arms out and shambled toward her.

When they were far enough away from the entrance, Rave shot five with her hand held crossbow, her aim perfect. Beccan aimed his HK 416 and with deadly accuracy took out the rest of the small swarm. Down the road hundreds shuffled toward the home like they heard about the all-you-can-eat party via a social network invite. Maybe their network was called Shambler. The hungry zombies blocked the road and they needed to clear it for the drive or they would turn into Meals-On-Wheels.

Rave commanded, “Get the van! I’ll distract the mob and direct them off the road.”

He frowned. “Yes, but don’t get too close.”

Rave pinched her nose and nodded. “Got it.” Their stench was like a repellant.

Beccan got in the van and zipped it around to the back. Shots were fired and then silence. The man never missed.

Rave fluffed her hair, took out her mirror and checked her makeup. She refreshed her hot red lipstick and then quickly put her compact away. Ravens, even in human form, loved preening as much as any other bird. She shifted. After rousing her feathers into place, the velvet black raven flew off to meet the zombie road party.

Rave landed beneath an oak tree, shifted to human form and waved. “Poultry over here!”

Like a sea of minnows, they changed course toward her, a human. A crescendo of moans and snarling mews headed her way. She casually strolled away, the Pied Piper of zombies. Every once in a while, she twisted to make sure they were off the road and heading her way. About twenty draggers still littered the road. “Come and get me!”

Finally, the stragglers left the road and scrambled into the mixed woodland, seeking out the other white meat.

As she climbed a hill, a swarm suddenly appeared and limped, shambled and half jogged toward her. “Holy shit.” Trapped. She stepped back to shift when a male twenty-something beach blond zombie grabbed her shoulder.

Rave’s adrenalin spiked to Defcon 1 and she slugged an upper cut to his jaw as he moved to bite. He staggered back. His mouth bloodied, he gazed at her as if ready to say, ‘dude, what was that for?’ Zombies clawed toward her. She shot surfer dude, secured her weapon, and shifted.

The zombies moaned a hungry, ‘huh?’ Their meal had vanished.

Rave almost went into bird paralysis. Oh, shit. On the ground surrounded by stinking confused zombies was not the time to freeze. She hopped in between rotting legs. Trampled to death by zombies was a shitty way to go. How was she going to get enough room to spread her wings for flight? The view was equally gross and fascinating in a ghastly way.

Their shoes were threadbare. Not a big surprise after what must have been hundreds of miles of aimlessly roaming around in search of humans. Quite a few walked in bare feet, having lost their sneakers to the weather or over use. Their ugly purple blistering feet were in various stages of grossness that included broken toes, missing toes and bones protruding out like porcupine needles. Their clothing was bloodstained and in tatters. She almost wished she had brought her sketchbook, imagining drawing them from the safety of the tree above. Of late, her art subjects were zombies rather than the usual werewolves. Her witch friend Dora called her art gruesome but from a doctor’s point of view most informative. Rave thought her art would someday land in future museums like the art during the Black Death, depicting skeletons and the angel of death in the Dance Macabre. In a twisted way, it honored the death of the innocents.

Not if I get trampled.
She pecked at ankles, and the zombies reacted but not in pain, just in their mindless ability to avoid pressure from something keeping them from a good food source. Her new trapped friends. A female zombie slipped and landed on her, smothering her in a blanket of rotting odor and slime. Ooh, was she melting? Good thing the zombie was a thin girl of maybe sixteen years of age and small, otherwise, Rave would have been crushed. Shifters, especially the avian variety could easily be killed, unlike the more powerful werewolves and bear shifters. Each time the girl moaned, her foul breath threatened to gag the smothered raven, flapping her wings in desperation. She cawed in disgust, a mistake because the sound caught the clumsy zombie’s attention. The girl sniffed her but Rave managed to drag herself away from zombie girl.

Rapid gunfire erupted. Rave clung on to a tall zombie’s blue jeaned ass, avoiding being trampled by the riotous zombie mob as they veered toward the sound. Cashel shouted, “Zombie scum, over here!”

Rave reached the zombie’s head as clumps of his oily hair fell off and she fluttered to the tree. Once on the safety of the branch, she puked. The van sped down the road, heading in the direction of the Megamarket. She flew back to the building’s roof, shifted and whipped out her compact. Slime covered her shoulder-length hair and oozed down her neck. Gross.

Cashel joined her, stepped close and then covered his nose. “Princess, are you all right?”

Rave sniffed her coat and took it off.
I’m tired of this cape anyway.
“Cashel, let’s shift and go.” She returned to raven form and spread her wings. Dry enough for flight, at least. Fortunately as a bird, she did not stink as bad as she did in human form.

Cashel gave her a curt nod, shifted and took flight.

They flew low alongside the van driven by Beth while Beccan sat shotgun. Dave rolled down the window and gave her a thumbs-up. She responded with a loud caw.
Looks like they got over the fact they were being rescued by raven shifters. Wait until they meet the werewolves.