Preview: Homeless, Part 2

It's that time again, time for another preview of Homeless.

About Homeless:
Humanity has been decimated by a violent new species that nests in any enclosed spaces, and slaughters everything unfortunate enough to come indoors. Mitch is a 'Wall Banger', an explosives expert who 'cracks' buildings, exposing them to air and sunlight to kill these invasive organisms. When a friend of Mitch's asks for help tracking down a murderer, Mitch recruits Cori, a 'Shadow Runner' who races through infested spaces to gather supplies and saleable loot. But this terrifying contagion isn't the only danger, as their world descends into a harrowing marathon against oversupplied militias, murderous gangs, self-righteous survivors, and all-out starvation.

Previously:
Homeless, Part 1

Homeless, Part 2

“It's the house Josephine died in,” he says gravely. His face contorts. He's used to folks judging him for that, pretending like we weren't all of us caught unawares to at least some degree.

“Oh, we heard the warnings,” he says, “from out East, on the television. But they seemed like so much insanity. Houses getting... haunted isn't exactly the thing, but inhabited. Becoming dangerous. The government told us that it wasn't safe to stay inside, that we'd need to sleep outdoors, in tents. We bought this one, in case, because Josephine was practical, in that way. She bought all kinds of rainy day supplies, bottled water, canned foods and all the like.

“But I didn't like putting up the tent. It hurt my hands,” he raises them up to show me, they're crooked and craggy, with skin so papery I'm surprised the bones don't break through as he claws the air. “I've got arthritis. So did she, but I think mine bothered me more- or maybe I just complained more readily.

“So we slept most nights indoors. We went places, trying to live by the edicts we were given, staying outdoors, but this is the Pacific Northwest, and the outdoors is no place for old bones, especially not in the winter time.

“They came one night. It's likely they arrived in the morning- I heard things stirring in the attic, things I dismissed as just a rambunctious squirrel. But the noise grew. Jo laughed and said maybe it was two squirrels- amorous ones, and even suggested we-” he paused, and flushed. “She was a playful woman. Competitive.” He swallows. “But the noise got louder. She begged me to put up the tent, so we could sleep in the yard. I could feel the cold in my bones even through our insulation, and our comforter. I told her we could weather it another night, and that I'd put up the tent in the morning.

“I woke up to her, bleeding,” he says as I pound the last stake into the ground. “I heard sobbing, and she had night terrors, so that's not all that unusual. But I sat up and I stroked her cheek, and started to tell her everything was going to be okay. Only my hand came back warm, and wet- far too much for tears or snot or drool. I groped for why that could be, and landed on she must be sick, and she'd thrown up. I grumbled at having to take time out of my sleep to launder sheets, and put on a new set, when I realized I didn't smell anything. I'd never known throw-up not to stink. I rubbed my fingers together, to test the consistency of it, expecting that gritty, almost sandy texture. But it was slick, and I don't know how but I knew then it was blood.

“I rolled over above Jo and shook her. She looked at me, which made my world make sense for a few more seconds. That's when I heard a sound, like insect wings, that kind of a buzz, or a hum, but bigger, like there were hundreds, maybe thousands, enough that they were everywhere. And it shot terror straight through me. I pulled on Jo's arm, and she stumbled out of the bed after me, but she couldn't keep to her feet, so she fell, and blood went everywhere. I realized, then, she'd been holding a cut closed in bed, and in pulling her up I opened it wide. She wasn't moving.

“I dragged her two feet in as many seconds, before I realize that the flow of blood was already slowing down. She'd lost pressure. A sliver of light cut across her face, enough that I watched the life go out of her eyes. 'Go,' she whispered to me as that happened, but it was so weak I can't ever be sure it wasn't just her last breath escaping her lungs."

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