Free Genesis by Michael McCarthy

facing.
    There was movement ahead.
    Che froze in his tracks seamlessly and
effortlessly disappearing into the brush, where he waited patiently, ready to
spring his trap.
    Che began to count down the seconds.
    One Thousand One.
    One Thousand Two.
    One Thousand Three.
    One Thousand Four.
    It was a young girl. The skin would be
soft, but no way would there be enough for what he needed. Che was about to reveal
himself and put the thing down when he noticed more movement behind her. It was
a larger male. He would work just fine. There was plenty of undamaged skin on
him to make his suit, or at least a mask.
    Che waited for the small girl to get closer,
then lunged at her with a rock, bashing her skull into pieces. He then turned
to face the larger male walker who was making directly towards him. Che stepped
aside as the male dropped to his knees and began to feast on the exposed brains
of the undead child.
    It was almost too easy. Che did not
understand those that had a problem hunting these things. Once you understood
the nature of the beast you were hunting, it was easy. Besides, it was not like
they were fighting back.
    Che flashed back to Vietnam, then quickly
pushed it from his thoughts. He had spent enough time there. He was not going
back. Not even in his mind.
     

The green bedroom on the second floor
of the farmhouse was filled with beautiful furniture from a bygone era. Ilsa
had always thought that the scalloped carvings and cabriole legs richly
appointed in gold leaf belonged in a French palace or the home of a rich
aristocrat, and not the home of a simple farmer. But with that son-of-a-bitch
handcuffed in the living room below, Ilsa understood now that Coop was not just
a rich, old farmer.
    Ilsa looked at herself in the mirror and
took a deep breath. Tonight was going to be more complicated than she had
originally thought. Way more complicated. Ilsa adjusted her breasts and gave
herself a seductive look, then smiled. She still had it.
    Ilsa could hear the stairs from the foyer
creak as Cooper made his way up to the bedroom. It was one of the things she
loved about the house. Advance notice. She adjusted her hair one last time as
Cooper entered the room.
    “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure he
didn’t hit his head when he passed out, “ Cooper explained.
    “How long do you think he’ll be unconscious?”
she asked, as gently as she could. Clearly his presence bothered Coop immensely,
and she did not want to irritate him.
    “He’ll be down for about forty-five minutes.
Unless I choose to wake him earlier with the antidote.”
    “Coop, what’s going on? Why do you have U.S.
Marshals protecting you? Are you somehow involved in all of this? These things?”
Ilsa began to tremble slightly and tears welled up in her eyes. “Coop, please
tell me, is the world coming to an end?”
    “The world coming to an end? No, the world
will be just fine. Civilization, well, as they say in France, c’est la vie .
But don’t worry Ilsa, when you look at things from a bigger perspective—the
history of the human race as a whole for instance— plagues happen all the time.
Somehow, a few humans always manage to survive. Those humans go on and build a
better world.”
    “I’m scared.”
    Cooper embraced Ilsa, pulling her closer
and wiping away her tears.
    “Don’t be afraid. You will be just fine. That
is why I brought you here tonight. I will protect you and the baby from
everything. Chaos exists outside, and will for some time, but you’re safe here.
I promise.”
    Ilsa began to regain her composure as they
sat on the edge of the bed.
    “Thank you,” said Ilsa.
    “No, thank you,” Cooper replied softly. “The
last two years have been…well…I don’t even have words for it. They escape me. Expensive
comes to mind.”
    They both laugh at the joke.
    Cooper opened the bottle of champagne and poured
two glasses.
    “Are you sure? I think maybe I’ve already
had too much.”
    “One more glass isn’t going to hurt