http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008WOSBPM
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/world-war-zero-al-lamanda/1112474578?ean=2940014866750
Chapter 6
On third watch, Chavez made some coffee in the kitchen and kept the pot warm on the stove for Lewis who had fourth and final watch.
It was a warm night for fall and stuffy inside the large farmhouse. Chavez took the mug of coffee and the BAR outside to the porch where the night air was cooler with a slight breeze from the north. He settled into a chair and put his feet up on the railing.
A million stars twinkled overhead on the moonless night sky. Even without the moon, his night vision was sharp and his hearing acute.
Above his head on the second floor the men slept in beds for the first time since June. The woman Yvette slept in her room down the hall from them directly above the porch.
As his senses heightened, Chavez heard a soft moan above his head. He removed his feet from the raining and sat perfectly still and listened. Many quiet seconds passed and then he heard the moaning sound again.
A woman’s voice.
Yvette.
Chavez took the mug of coffee and BAR back into the house and stood quietly at the bottom of the landing on the first step.
The moaning sounded a third time, a bit louder now that he was inside the house. Deciding to check on Yvette, Chavez climbed the creaky stairs and walked past the bedroom where the men slept and stood outside her closed bedroom door.
Almost a minute passed before Yvette moaned again.
Chavez set the coffee mug on the small table against the wall, slung the heavy BAR over his right shoulder and knocked very softly on the door.
“Ma’am, are you alright in there?” Chavez whispered.
Another moan, a bit louder followed Chavez’s question.
The door down the hall opened and Lewis poked his head out. “Chavez, what are you doing? Is it my shift already?”
“If it was your shift would I be at her door?” Chavez said. “I think she’s sick.”
In his stocking feet, Lewis walked down the hall to Chavez. “What do you mean she’s sick?”
“I mean listen,” Chavez said.
A few seconds passed and a loud moan sounded from inside the bedroom.
“Shit,” Lewis said.
“What do we do?” Chavez said. “Maybe she needs help or something.”
“You dumb Navaho, open the door and let’s find out,” Lewis said.
“Who you calling dumb Navaho, half dick,” Chavez said. “And I meant about first aid. None of us is a medic.”
“No, but we got a medical kit and she must have some medicine in the house somewhere,” Lewis said. “Open the door.”
Chavez took hold of the doorknob and slowly pushed the door inward. The bedroom was dark, nearly pitch-black. He removed a pack of matches from a pocket and struck one.
“Oil lamp on the dresser,” Lewis said.
Chavez went to the lamp and lit it with a second match. The flame of the lamp gave off a white, flickering glow.
“Chavez, look at this,” Lewis said.
Chavez turned around to face the bed. Yvette wore a thin cotton nightgown and in her sleep she tossed all the covers off. Her face and body was soaked with sweat. Her face had a greenish tint to the skin and her eye sockets seemed deep set as if sunken in.
“She got a fever?” Chavez said.
Lewis gently touched Yvette’s forehead. “Cold as ice,” he said.
Yvette moaned so suddenly and with such a violent jerk, Lewis and Chavez were startled.
“Shit, man, this woman is really sick,” Lewis said.
“You speak frog, wake her up,” Chavez said.
Lewis bent over Yvette and gently placed his right hand on her shoulder. In French, he said, “Ma’am, wake up, ma’am.”
Yvette tossed and turned a bit and then produced a long moan that came from deep inside her stomach.
“Yvette, wake up. Please,” Lewis said in French.
Suddenly and with such force that Lewis jumped backward, Yvette’s eyes snapped open.
They were yellow.
A deep, sickish yellow.
“What the fuck?” Chavez said.
“Chavez, this woman is sick,” Lewis said. “Real sick.”
“You ever see eyes like that before?” Chavez said.
“No.”
Yvette moaned again and then her entire body jerked wildly for a few seconds.
“She’s having some sort of spasm,” Lewis said.
Yvette went still and her eyes closed.
“What’s going on?” Joey said as he and Quinn entered the bedroom.
“The woman’s sick,” Chavez said. “Some kind of fever.”
“She looks like shit,” Joey said.
“Back home when I was a kid and had a fever my mom would give me an ice bath,” Quinn said.
“I don’t think we should move her,” Lewis said.
“I’ll give her a bath,” Joey said.
“You won’t touch that woman,” Chavez said. “Pervert.”
“What? What I say?” Joey said. “Quinn brought it up.”
“Never mind,” Chavez said.
“Maybe we can get a block of ice from the freezer in the kitchen and chop it up,” Lewis said. “Wrap it in some towels and line the bed. That should cool her off.”
“Good idea,” Chavez said. “Joey, Quinn, you’re up now. Go get some ice.”
“I should have stayed in bed,” Joey said.
Ray opened his eyes and focused on the clear night sky. Stars everywhere. Not even a hint of a cloud.
Ray rolled over and sat up. He could see Pettit on watch, standing with the massive BAR rifle cradled in his arms.
Ray struck a match and looked at his watch. Ten minutes to his watch, he might as well get up now. He slipped on his boots, stood, grabbed his Thompson and walked to Pettit.
“Can’t sleep, Top?” Pettit said.
“I haven’t slept more than two hours at a clip since we landed in Europe,” Ray said. “Grab some Z’s. I’ll take the next two hours and we’ll skip over the Lieutenant.”
“I made some coffee,” Pettit said. “I put the fire out, but it’s still warm.”
“Thanks.”
While Pettit settled into his bedroll, Ray filled a tin mug with warm coffee, pulled out a cigar and prepared for the boredom of the next two hours.
The four he left at the farmhouse were enjoying a nice warm bed and the serenity that came with it, Ray thought.
The lucky slobs.
“Might as well get some breakfast started,” Chavez said. “Quinn, you stay with her. We’ll send you up some fresh coffee. After chow you and asshole get an early start back.”
Quinn sat in the chair beside the bed. “Bring me some smokes, too,” he told Chavez.
An hour into his watch, the sky to the east lit up with flashes of lightning, followed by low rolling thunder. A storm was brewing, but Ray couldn’t tell yet if it was heading toward or away from him.
Lightning flashed again and the thunder was louder, closer. His men began to stir and Pettit sat up in his bedroll.
“You smell that?” Pettit said.
Ray nodded. “Rain,” he said.
The storm came out of nowhere. One minute the sky was dark and still, the next minute lightning sizzled across the sky with booming thunder following.
Quinn went to the window with a cup of coffee. Rain fell suddenly and within moments it was coming down in sheets. He lowered the window and lit a cigarette. From the kitchen on the first floor he could smell the bacon cooking in a pan and his stomach grumbled from hunger.
Lightning flashed and loud thunder boomed.
Behind him, Quinn didn’t hear Yvette stir in the bed.
“Look at this fucking rain,” Quinn said aloud as he looked out the window.
As the thunder faded away and there was a moment of quiet, Quinn heard a noise behind him and he turned just as Yvette sprung from the bed and bit him on the right ear.
Quinn screamed as Yvette clamped down hard with her teeth.
“You fucking bitch, are you crazy!” Quinn yelled.
Blood ran down his ear and he pushed and shoved Yvette, but she was a bulldog and held on with her teeth, ripping and tearing at his flesh.
“Get off me!” Quinn yelled and slammed Yvette in the head with his fist.
Yvette snarled and Quinn felt his ear tear away from his head and then he fell backward and Yvette had his ear in her mouth.
“Jesus God,” Quinn said.
Yvette chewed and swallowed the ear, then her yellow eyes focused on Quinn.
With blood streaming down the side of his face, Quinn dashed toward the chair where his Thompson rested beside it.
Yvette pounced on him and motherfucker but she had the strength of six men. They rolled on the wood floor and Yvette landed on top of Quinn and showed her bloody teeth as she came down to bite him on the cheek.
Quinn grabbed her neck with both hands to hold her off. She snapped wildly with her teeth and he looked into her yellow, possessed eyes.
The eyes of a mad woman.
“Chavez!” Quinn screamed as Yvette snarled and snapped her bloody teeth.
For a moment it was a standoff. Then, fueled by her rage and desire for flesh and blood, Yvette inched her teeth closer to Quinn’s face.
Christ, the woman was as strong as Ray, maybe stronger.
“Help, Chavez, help me!” Quinn screamed desperately.
Just inches away from his neck now, Quinn pushed with all that he had, but it wasn’t enough. With a sudden burst of force, Yvette broke through his hold and her teeth came down hard on the left side of Quinn’s neck.
And dug in.
Hard.
Quinn screamed and with his right hand he reached for the bayonet on his belt. He grabbed it and shoved it into Yvette’s side to the handle. If she felt the blade in her side, she didn’t react or care.
Instead, Yvette’s teeth dug in deeper into Quinn’s neck and she tore out a large hunk of his flesh.
Quinn screamed as his blood squirted three feet into the air.
“Jesus Christ!” Chavez yelled as he, Joey and Lewis rushed into the bedroom.
“Get her the fuck off me!” Quinn screamed.
Chavez grabbed Yvette by the shoulders and pulled, but Yvette dug her teeth into Quinn’s neck and held on like a starving pit-bull.
Joey pulled his 1911 .45 pistol, racked the slide and fired three rounds into Yvette’s back and side.
The massive bullets went unnoticed by Yvette.
Stunned, Joey, Chavez and Lewis stood motionless for a moment.
Then Yvette tore out a hunk of Quinn’s neck, sat up and chewed it as if it were sweet German sausage.
“This isn’t possible,” Lewis said and reached out to grab Yvette.
Moving like a flash of lightning, Yvette spun and bit into the flesh of Lewis’s exposed left forearm.
Lewis screamed as blood appeared on his forearm.
Joey fired three more rounds into Yvette’s chest. The bullets had little to no effect and she grabbed Lewis and held onto him as she chewed into his flesh.
“Get her off me!” Lewis yelled.
Chavez pulled his 1911 .45 pistol, racked the slide and fired pointblank range into Yvette’s skull.
Yvette’s yellow eyes snapped open wide as half her skull hit the wall.
Chavez held the .45 to Yvette’s bloody mess of a face, but it wasn’t necessary.
Falling away from Lewis, Yvette hit the floor hard and twitched spastically for several seconds, screeching like a banshee. Chavez fired two more rounds into Yvette’s face and she finally went still.
“My fucking arm,” Lewis said, holding the bloody, open hole in his forearm.
“Quinn,” Chavez said and knelt down beside him.
Quinn was fading fast. “Not like this,” he whispered as his life’s blood spilled out of his neck to the floor. “I made it through the invasion. Not like this.”
“Hold on, just hold on,” Chavez said. “Joey, get some bandages.”
Quinn’s eyes closed and his breathing stopped. He was dead in a pool of his own blood.
“Fuck,” Chavez said.
