Quetzalcoatl Ch. 06

6

The next morning I woke up again with the sun. It was a partly sunny day and the sun peeked in and out of the clouds. I checked outside through the window, but the dog wasn't around. I made coffee, and then I went out for a better look.

There she was, not too far away in the grass. She picked up her head when she heard me come out of the house, and she sniffed the air. I went back inside to the pantry and retrieved another can of stew.

This time she came in fairly fast after I emptied the food into the bowl. She was starting to get used to me already. Or maybe she just liked our stew.

When mom awoke I was outside drinking my coffee while the dog lay in the grass about ten feet away

"She's getting used to you," Mom said from the door.

"She's getting used to being fed."

"She's a good dog. She'll come in useful around here."

"Yes I hope she stays."

"Oh she'll stay. Come in here, I want to talk to you." I left the dog outside, and sat down at the kitchen table

"I want you to go back to the boatyard, and get as much gear out of the boat as you can."

"We're abandoning the boat?"

"For now. We always know where it is if we need it, but I think that we'd do better here. We can get your grandmother's garden in shape, and grow as much food as we can for the winter."

"Okay Mom." It sounded as good as a plan as any. So I finished my coffee and packed the truck with some gear and the semi-auto. Outside the dog was looking at me like I was leaving it, but when I got in the truck without mom, who was watching me from the door, she settled down. I made my way down the drive and out on the road towards Slaughter beach.

In the daylight the trip took half as much time. I drove through the vacant streets to the beach in just a half hour. When I got to the boatyard and to the boat I realized that someone had moved the bodies. At least five bodies should be laying on the gravel parking lot that bordered the creek.

Not one corpse was evident. I parked the F-250 down by the boat, and after looking around for a bit, I got the needed supplies and stowed them in the cab. I started to get some crazy ideas. What if they weren't dead? Or maybe they came back to life. I kept the automatic slung over my shoulder.

On one of my trips back to the truck I noticed that someone was standing on the stairs leading into the boatyard's office. He was older, maybe around fifty, and he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. That was definitely a good sign. I emptied the last of the gear in the truck as he headed for me.

I cradled the semi-auto in my arms as he slowly closed the one hundred foot distance between us. He had long gray hair and he was kind of on the fat side.

"Hello," he yelled when he got within speaking range.

"Hello," I answered back.

"My names John McAllister. Can I talk to you?" He asked with a slight Delmarva accent.

"Sure. My name is Ed King."

"Are you the one who had the run in with those zombies?" He stopped when he got about ten yards away.

"Zombies?"

"Well, whatever you want to call those God forsaken bastards."

"Yeah I guess that was me. I'm sorry if I caused you any problems."

"Nonsense. They kind of had it coming to them, the way they attacked you. I guess we should have taken care of them ourselves, but they were our neighbors once."

"We?"

"Yeah me and my two buddies. They were a little scared to meet you. They figured that you were some kind of a crazed killer. They didn't see what happened the other night; I did." He turned around and yelled back to the office. "Come on out. It's okay." With that, an even older man and a young boy came out of the office. The boy couldn't have been more then seventeen. The man was about seventy.

"What did you do with the bodies?"

"We weren't digging any graves. We put them in an old boat that was docked down there," he pointed down to the row of docked boats. "We towed it out into the bay last night and set fire to them. Gave them a kind of Viking funeral."

"What's the deal with these 'zombies?" I asked as the boy and the other man walked down to us.

"I've heard on the radio that everyone has got 'em." John answered.

"Are they always this dangerous?"

"No, usually they're not, unless you get between them and some food or a woman. That was your mistake the other night. They must have spotted your woman."

"Unless they're homos," the boy added.

"Homos?"

"Well, it appears that they still keep their sexual proclivities even after they become zombies."

"Gay zombies?"

"It's a brave new world Ed. But I heard that they don't live too long. It's hard to attempt a rape on a man and come away with your skull intact." He turned around and looked at the boy and the old man. "This here is Henry, and the boy's name is Luke. Guys, this is Ed." I nodded my head to Luke and shook Henry's hand.

"That's a nice rifle you got there," Henry mentioned as he nodded to the gun.

"Yeah, it's some kind of semi-automatic," I said sounding like I knew something about it.

"Can I see it?"

I was a little hesitant to hand the man my weapon, but if they were hostile, they would have attacked me already. "Sure," I said as I handed it to him.

Henry took the rifle and aimed it in the air. "This is a Ruger ranch rifle. This is a great rifle."

I shook my head to show that I didn't know what he was talking about.

"It's what they call a Mini-14. Based on the M-14 that the military used back in Korea. What's it chambered for?"

Again I shook my head. Henry pulled the clip out of the gun and slipped one of the bullets out of it. ".223. I should have known. That's the same round as they use in the M-16. Damn nice rifle." He put the bullet back in the clip, the clip back in the rifle, and handed them all to me. "You should have used it to deal with those zombies. You would have had less trouble."

"He didn't have any trouble at all," John interjected. "He took care of all six of them by himself."

"I don't understand about these ...zombies," I professed. "What is the deal with them?"

"They are kind of like autistic people," said John. "You can talk to them, but there is nothing inside of them. And like autistic people there is different degrees of functionality."

"Yeah," I said. "I once saw one walk right by a woman, and come back later to rape her with the help of others. Then the other night we were attacked as soon as they had a chance."

"They tend to attack in groups." Luke added. "I think that they feel more secure in numbers."

"Not all of them are totally whacked out. I've heard of one guy who is as normal as you or I, and he has kidnapped a lot of women." Henry looked me straight in the eye as he told me that.

"I heard those stories too. They're just Boogey man stories. Who knows how true they are." John protested.

"I heard he has a whole harem," Henry continued.

"Does this Boogey man have a name?" I asked.

"Pato Azul," Henry said with just a little drama.

"Pato Azul?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he calls himself that. No one knows his real name."

"He calls himself Pato Azul?"

"Yeah why?" Henry asked a little spooked.

"It's Spanish. It means blue duck." I responded.

"That's a strange name." John interjected.

"It's disturbing. Does he come around here?"

"Well, mostly I hear stories about him from people up around Dover. You know, on the C.B. radio."

"Let me know if he comes around here."

"Yeah sure." Henry could see the determination in my eyes.

"Listen Ed," John interrupted. "Do you have enough ammo for that gun?"

I snapped out of my Blue Duck fixation, and thought about John's question. "I got about two boxes, but I guess I could always use more. Why?"

"Well, there was a cop who lived close to here. He used to be a real gun buff. We could see if he had any ammo to fit that gun."

"You mean Michael?" Henry chimed in. "Yeah I think I remember him having a mini-14. Let's go check."

"It's not too far. You want to come with us?" John asked me.

"Nah. If you don't mind, I still need to pack the rest of our stuff in the truck. And I need to get some gas."

"Luke can get you some gas. We use hand pumps to get it out of the yard's gas tank. Normally this yard is pumping gas for dozens of boats on the weekend. Not many people are pleasure boating these days."

So they went off in John's Escalade while I retrieved the gear from the sailboat. When they got back I had the pickup over by the boatyard's pumps, and Luke and I were hand pumping the gas.

"I got you three boxes, with one hundred rounds in a box. That's three hundred rounds," Henry said to me proud of his scrounging.

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "That should last me." Henry and John both smiled. "Thanks again for all that you've done. I appreciate it," I added.

"No need to thank us," John assured me. "We feel a little guilty about not taking care of those guys before they attacked you. You see, there aren't many women around, so we didn't have any problems with them."

I nodded to him. "You let me know if you hear anymore about this Pato guy."

"Okay," Henry agreed.

"Thanks again," I said before I got in the truck and drove off.

I stopped at a small grocery store on my way back to the house. It was a combination gas station and grocery that we had been to many times over the years. It was more than a little ransacked for food, but I was able to get a couple of big dog food bags, and some dog biscuits. We couldn't afford to keep feeding the dog people food. This should last her for at least a few months.

When I got back to the house, I parked in back so that it would be easier to unpack. I didn't see the dog anywhere. I gave a few whistles, but to no avail. Ah shit, I thought, she must have left. My mother came to the back door after she heard me whistling.

"What are you whistling for?"

"I don't see the dog."

"She's inside."

"The dog's inside?" I said with some astonishment. I couldn't even get her to sit on the porch.

"Yeah, she's watching me bake."

"How did you get her to come in?"

"I just opened the door. She must have smelled the cooking."

Sure enough, when I went inside Al Shaba was underneath the kitchen table. She even wagged her tail at me. "What a freeloader." I admonished her.

"Leave her alone, the poor thing, she's hungry, and she's been all alone until she found us." Mom looked great wearing those super-short jean shorts and a pink tank top, but she was wearing a bra. Her hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was all disheveled and powdered with flour.

"She doesn't look too skinny," I said skeptically. "I'm not so sure that she's not playin' us."

"Look at that sweet face," mom said as the dog lay on her side wagging her tail.

"I think she's a trickster."

"Well, you named her the ghost, and ghosts are apt to do that," mom said as she took a pie out of the oven. As she bent over, I walked up behind her and put my hands around her waist.

"What are you doing?"

"Just hugging you mom."

"I'm busy," she said without looking at me. "Besides, I hope you don't think that you're getting any, after the way you treated me the other night. I'm still sore."

"I'm just thanking you for baking for me," I said feigning remorse.

"Bull shit," mom uncharacteristically cursed. "You have a hard on, and you're not sticking it in me."

"Come on Mom, just a blow job?" I pleaded.

She spun around in my arms, and she started to push me away. "Absolutely not. Now go and unpack the truck. We both have too much to do." I walked away demoralized and horny. My hard on was still uncomfortable in my pants.

It took me at least an hour to unpack the truck. It seemed that we packed a year's worth of food, clothes and essentials in that boat. When I was done my mom was in cleaning mode, and I knew better than to interrupt my mom when she gets in one of those cleaning frenzies, so I took the mini-14 out to the field behind the house. The dog followed me, sensing that all of the cooking was over, and the food had been put away.

I set up some old cans and bottles on a fence that bordered the woods and I knelt down in the grass some fifty paces back to the house. I brought the gun to my cheek, like I saw it done on TV, and tried to aim.

The rear sight on the gun is a small cylinder that is canted with several holes in it. You can look through one of those holes down the barrel of the gun. I lined the hole up with my eye to a post that served as the front sight, and aimed at a large vegetable can. I released the safety, and pulled the trigger.

The gun clanged in my ear with just the slightest of kicks. I had expected a much bigger kick and I expected the kick to hurt my shoulder, but neither occurred. I also expected a great bang from the gun firing, but all I heard was the clang of the bolt jumping to the rear of the gun.

Wow, I thought, this is really easy. I fired the gun two more times, and the second bullet hit the can. This wasn't just easy it was fun! No wonder people get hooked on shooting guns.

I fired some more, but I couldn't keep the sights on the targets for too long. No matter how hard I tried it was almost impossible to keep the front sight on the cans. I sat back on my back leg and leaned my elbow on my front knee. That was better. I could steady the gun much better, and I was able to knock down the rest of the cans without much effort.

Before I knew it, both clips were empty and, since I didn't bring any more ammo, I got up and headed for the house. To my surprise Al Shaba was still sitting next to me in the grass.

"You're not afraid of guns huh," I said to the dog, as she wagged her tail at me. "Your old master must have been a hunter." The dog just panted with her long red tongue out the side of her mouth. "That's good to know."

I knelt down in the grass, and the dog came up to me and let me pet it for the first time. Her coat was thick and soft. She licked my hand and then I got up and walked back to the house.

Mom was nowhere to be found when I entered the house. I kicked off my sneakers as I had a million times after one of mom's cleaning binges. I heard some commotion upstairs, and so I headed for the staircase. The dog found a cool spot back under the kitchen table

When I got to second floor landing I heard something in the bathroom. The door was only slightly closed, and I eased my hand to the knob and pushed it open. The bathroom was large for so old a house and there was an old claw foot tub on the left and a pedestal sink on the far wall.

Mom was in front of the sink, naked except for a pair of white thong panties, and she was soaking wet. She had a washcloth in her hand as she turned around to see me. It was full of soap, and she must have been lathering herself up.

The first thing that I noticed was her ass. It was big and firm and luscious. Each cheek was round and separate. They were just barely parted by the triangle and then the string of her thong.

The water on her skin reflected the afternoon light from the window.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?"

"Hi Mom." She saw that look in my eye. She grabbed a towel from the rack and hung it loosely in front of her as she turned to me.

"You don't belong here. Please leave."

"Ma, please don't be like that."

"You scared and hurt me the other night. Maybe you're right. Maybe you are turning into one of those things." She hung the towel so haphazardly, that I saw most of her tits still damp with soap. If she was trying to cover herself, she was doing a bad job.

"Ma, I would never hurt you again," I said as I slipped off my t-shirt, and approached her.

"No Ed, it's not going to happen."

I unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop to the floor as I came closer. She turned away from me still holding the towel loosely in front of her. I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her close. My cock, which had broken free of my boxers, was nestled in the crack of her ass. I felt the wetness of the bathwater against me.

"Please Ed no," she whimpered. She was saying no, but she wasn't resisting, or trying to free herself of me. My hands slid up her wet body and found her beautiful round tits under the towel.

"Ed stop," she huffed as I kissed the nape of her neck and tasted the soapiness. My cock slid up and down the crack of her ass.

"You're not fucking me, and you are certainly not fucking me there," she commanded, but she didn't fight me as I fingered her nipples.

I didn't say a thing, but my right hand trailed a path down her torso, over her belly and down her pelvic area, but her right hand beat me to her pussy. She cupped it, and I cupped my hand over hers. "No," she moaned.

Of course my hand was stronger, so I forced her fingers into the patch of cloth covering her, and stimulated her with her own fingers. My left hand left her breast and I started to push her thong down, but she dropped the towel and grabbed the string of her panties, pulling it back up.

It became a tug of war for a while until I gave up. Instead I pushed her hand away from her pussy, crammed my hand into her thong, and forced my finger into her.

"Oh God," she gasped, and in the mirror I could see her close her eyes. I went right for her clit, because I knew she liked that the best. She didn't disappoint. She started to moan softly under her breath. It got me so hot, watching her breasts heave and listening to the sound of her getting excited.

Even though she loved my fingering her, she still grabbed at my hand to pull it away. But I was much too strong for her and, even though I was forcing her, I wasn't hurting her.

The feel of my cock slipping between her soapy cheeks was ecstasy and I loved watching her fight me as she was in the throes of excitement. She didn't know what she wanted, and it was turning me on.

"What do you want Mom? Do you want me to stop, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"YES. No. I don't know." She vacillated, as I played with her clit and nipples, and I slid my cock up and down the crack of her ass.

"Well what is it?" I mocked.

"Fuck you Ed."

"Fuck me? You want to fuck me?"

"Just shut up, and don't stop doing what you are doing," she commanded as she came closer to coming. Finally she started to convulse as I could feel her body temperature rise, and her heartbeat quicken. She gasped one more time as she came to orgasm.

She pulled away from me, turned around and kissed me full on the lips, taking my tongue deep in her mouth, and sucking on it. She was still breathing heavy from her orgasm, as she grabbed my cock and started to jerk me off. Oh God, I wanted her so bad right then.

"Suck it Mom. Suck my cock," I said breathlessly as I pulled away from her kisses.

"No, I don't want to."

"Yes you do. You want to take my cock in your mouth."

"No."

"Well you are going to," I ordered her, as I forcibly pushed her down at the shoulders. She still kept jerking me off as I forced her to her knees, but she kept shaking her head no.

"Suck it Mom. Suck my cock." She looked up at me, straight in the eyes and shook her head no. "Don't make me Ed."

"Suck it Mom. Suck my cock," I said more forcefully. With that she parted her red lips, and took me in her mouth. The pleasure was indescribable, as she ran those red lips up and down my shaft. She might have said that she didn't want to, but she was taking me in like an old pro. My God, my mom could suck a mean cock.

I watch as she bobbed up and down on my shaft, her breasts still shimmering from the bathwater, and I drove my hips into her as I fucked my mother's pretty face.

"Mom you are so good at sucking cocks," I said and she gave me a stern look. I never wanted it to end. I wanted my cock in her forever. I wanted to fuck her face, her pussy, and her ass forever.