Cat and the Belle Read online

  DamZels

  of the

  Darkness

  Episode 1:

  Cat and the Belle

  Victor Cruz

  Copyright © 2020 Victor Cruz

  All rights reserved.

  *Disclaimer. For adult/mature audiences only. Stories contain themes of action, adventure, sexual elements with multiple partners. All characters are consensual participants and are of legal age (18+).

  CONTENTS

  1

  Wrecked Center

  2

  The Parson Farm

  3

  Booker’s Achilles

  4

  Home Delivery

  5

  Belle-Lyanna

  6

  Late Night Rise

  7

  Greenbrook

  8

  Moshing in the Pits

  9

  The Promised Land

  10

  Black Comanche

  11

  Paradise Falls

  12

  Cruise con Catalina

  13

  Ol’ Henry’s Surprise

  14

  Konrad Trail

  15

  Diesel Power

  16

  Not on Maxson’s Watch

  17

  Calm and Collected

  17

  Lakeside Storm

  18

  After the Storm

  19

  Be Quiet About It

  Wrecked center

  Gunfire had an eerie way of hushing everyone to silence in the overcrowded gym. For some, it was a reminder that danger was real and ever present. For the Devereaux brothers, it simply indicated the distance and direction that the crazed cannibals approached from.

  “Hear that?” Maxson asked his older brother.

  “They’re at the blockade. Northside,” Mason observed in response to his sibling.

  “We don’t want to be around when they get here,”, Maxson stated, correctly. “We might be the only people here armed for a fight.”

  Mason nodded silently in agreement while his hand moved in a subtle manner to graze the gun’s handle tucked deep into the back of his denim jeans. He would have worn his side holster, but he was unsure if civilians were permitted to carry their own weapons inside the military controlled zone.

  Instead, he elected to conceal the weapon in the back of his waistband. It was better to not leave his security up to the brave soldiers that already had enough on their hands. Besides, the Devereaux brothers were more than capable of defending themselves.

  I’m not so sure about the rest of them. Mason thought while looking around.

  There might have been a thousand people inside of the grand sized gymnasium that held three basketball courts on it, stacked side-by-side. Some were in the surrounding stands sitting and weeping on the bleachers, while others stood and occupied the gym floor like Mason and the group he was amongst.

  Every single one of the nearby strangers were grieving over loved ones recently lost, shell-shocked by all of the death they had witnessed. Some were finding it difficult to adapt and adjust to what was happening while others were mentally exhausted from battling for their own survival.

  Each person had a sad story leading them to the gym. The stories told on their worn faces.

  Mason and the others had arrived two hours ago and the pot was already being to stir. Worry was turning into desperation.

  Things are evolving. Things always evolve. Mason thought of the rapidly declining situation they were in.

  It was the radio that had told them to come here because it was safe and there was shelter. There had been so much misinformation, disinformation and politicized disillusionment for financial gain that it was hard to know who to trust.

  Some were saying that the dead could transmit the disease by only bite, while others said it was a highly infectious, asymptomatic and airborne virus. For all the government knew, the whole world was infected already. Many questions remained unanswered and unknown about the pandemic. The lack of control over any variable to protect one’s self drove many insane.

  The only advice that was given to them was to shoot them in the head and don’t get bitten. A lack of information offered, left Mason Devereaux with questions. How do you fight something when you don’t know how to combat it?

  Mason chose not to worry like the others though, since there was nothing he was about to do. Though, he knew that there was one piece of information that wasn’t being reported: There’s something more to the rising dead’s black blood than meets the eye.

  At the rec-center, there were allegedly rescue boats arriving that would take people south, down the Rockport River, to a government designated safe zones.

  Mason doubted these so-called government designated safe zones, but the rest of the group seemed to believe them and had outvoted him. He harbored no resentment; he surely didn’t have a better plan and hindsight was always seen through 20/20 vision. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t regret allowing them to bring themselves there.

  I should have known better. I’m the oldest. I’m suppose to be protecting my family, not allowing them to lead us to danger.

  Their group were some of the last people allowed inside the building protected by the military. The army could only protect a finite number of civilians at once while still keeping themselves safe. Between rioting criminals and the psychotic infected, American armed forces fought valiantly, but were placed in a more dire position attempting to save others each passing minute.

  Survivors from the onslaught outside, were crammed into a gym that belonged to the city of Rockport and was made up of multiple buildings. Each building housed a variety of activities like racquetball, tennis and even swimming. All hallways and paths lead to the center building that was six floors tall and housed random offices for small businesses on top.

  Mason and Maxson had played basketball thousands of times on the very floor they currently stood on when they were younger. The two men were physically gifted with height, size, strength, athleticism and naturally dominated their competition. Even after all these years, Mason was still proud of their undefeated record. Maxson even more so, since he was the better ball player of the two.

  The separate structures were connected by long corridors and a few staircases. Each of the exits from the gym had been blocked off by soldiers with military rifles. In normal situations, gym-goers could use an elevator, but that had also been shut down to conserve electricity.

  “What’re we going to do?” Catalina, Mason’s beloved wife, asked him. Her light brown eyes filled with concern, but not fear. She wasn’t exactly a masculine warrior, but she had a mental toughness that made her a survivor nonetheless.

  Mason couldn’t stop himself from admiring how beautiful she was, even during the end of the world. She had wanted children, but he had always worried that he would turn out to be like his father. A decision that he was starting to regret he hadn’t made years ago when he first met her.

  After we get through this… Mason thought.

  Mason looked over to Maxson and notice that his big dull brown eyes were also on him. Both of them were waiting and expecting answers.

  I’m the oldest. I am the leader. I have to think of something.

  The soldiers running around their battlefield in an organized frenzy were a stark contrast to the ones that were instructed to guard the exit points. Those soldiers remained idly posted by the staircase exits of the gym, guarding anything from passing through.

  “I might have an idea,” Mason said to Catalina. “Have your sister grab Reggie. I need to ask him something.”

  “On it,” Was all she had to say as she went straight to business. Mason had always lov
ed that about her; results-oriented and not about the fluff in high pressured situations.

  The perfect partner, in crime and in love. The thought made Mason momentarily wonder why there weren’t outside on the streets, cashing in on the anarchy that was occurring.

  Catalina walked off leaving the two brothers with one another.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Maxson asked while watching Catalina walk off.

  Mason could see his younger brother’s eyes drifting on his own wife’s round, but firm backside as she strutted off. She had a body that women exhausted themselves to attain and men desired in their deepest fantasies. A feminine curvaceous hourglass figure that was youthfully firm from years of disciplined fitness. He was so used to the world admiring her sexual form that it didn’t even bother him that his own brother was amongst the ogling.

  Besides, Catalina would never downgrade to him, when she has me. Cockily ran through his mind whenever the thought arose. He was the older and by virtue, better brother. At least in his mind.

  “Way I see it, little bro, we don’t have many options that are full-proof. Unless you have any ideas, I’m listening,” Mason waited for Maxson to say something.

  The younger Deveraux brother remained silent.

  “Okay then. Well, I say when shit gets a little more hectic. And believe me, Max, it will,” Mason assured him and waited for his little brother to divulge the last piece of information. He needed him to be mentally prepared and ready to move when it got out of control.

  “You don’t think those soldiers will stop them?” His younger brother asked him.

  Mason shook his head, “That gunfire outside will die down. And it won’t be, because the soldiers are dead. The gunfire will stop because they ran out of ammo.”

  Maxson’s face still show resistance.

  Mason added, “They are fighting the whole city out there. Think about it.”

  The younger Devereaux nodded to himself, finally accepting that things were going to get worse before they got better. He trusted his older brother.

  Their group didn’t have the luxury to grieve the ones they had lost, and they would not be able to indulge in any rest. Mason wouldn’t allow it.

  We need to stay a step ahead of everyone else.

  “So, what now, Mase?” Maxson asked, now that he was on the same page as his older brother.

  Mason could see Reggie walking through the crowd and motioned to Maxson to hold his thought. Reggie was Catalina’s brother-in-law and through marriage, his own. A black man with a brawler’s build and an underground street fighter’s experience which was offset by his breezy cool temperament. Mason had always liked Reggie, but more importantly respected him.

  “What-up?” Reggie said as he lightly clapped his hands once and rubbed them together when he arrived. He was a man that was light on his feet and always bouncing around like he had built in shocks that kept him limber and ready for a scuffle.

  “You’ve trained in the boxing ring in the basement before, right?” Maxson halfway asked and halfway told.

  “Yup. Only when I was younger, though,” Reggie said before taking a few small jabs at the air out of memory. “But I’m still The King of that ring.”

  “Doesn’t the basement connect to the garage?” Mason asked, not having time to pander to Reggie’s ego.

  “Sure does. All the buildings use it like a loading dock for mail, I think. Even have their own buses for…” Reggie realized immediately after saying it. “Ahh, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  A fourth male’s voice came from outside of the huddle, “Wait on there, just a minute, gentlemen, what are we all thinking here?”

  It was Mason’s neighbor, Kenneth Banks, who he found out sold cars for a living. Clean-cut, freshly shaven, brown hair and greens eyes. Mason assumed he must have done pretty well for himself as we wore stylish business attire with his friendly disposition.

  Maxson obliged the newcomer. “We’re making a plan right now.”

  Kenneth had a confused look on his face, “But I thought we were safe here.”

  “Yeah? And so does everyone else in here,” Mason replied. “We have to get out of Rockport. It’s too dangerous in the city.”

  Kenneth looked disappointed. He had an eighteen-year-old daughter named Belle-Lyanna that he had to look after other than himself. Not wanting to be left in the dark for his daughter’s sake, he deeply gave a sigh and acceptingly asked, “Okay… so what’s the plan, then?”

  “Fastest way to the garage is down one of them guarded staircases,” Reggie interjected himself.

  Mason looked to the three staircases. Two were on opposite sides of the gym and there was a main one in the middle leading to the exit. The one in the middle was open to everyone else and meant to be the main entry way that most people used entering and exiting the building. It was unlike the other two staircases that were closed off and had doors controlled by push-levers mechanisms. Those two stairways were intended only to be used by employees or in the case of a fire.

  All shared the fact they were guarded by military fatigued men, holding rifles. The center staircase was guarded by two separate soldiers with a third walking around it at the top. Another two guards were at the bottom of those stairs, with a barricade of soldiers outside, protecting the entrance.

  No chance of safely getting through that exit point. Mason reasoned, before inspecting the other two.

  Hm. Maybe. The other two staircases were guarded by only one lone guard each since they didn’t lead directly outside.

  We’re like fish in a barrel. Imprisoned. Mason likened it to his own time spent behind bars and being guarded by men with rifles before. Nobody else around us seems to know that, yet.

  The two fire escapes essentially lead to the same place, but Mason noticed that there was one thing that separated them drastically. The lone guards that protected each individual door.

  The first guard had a thick mustache that was losing its brown color and belonged to a burly man that stood at an erect attention. He inspected each person that walked by with a calm, but suspicious interest. Mason suspected that the guard was searching for something to do and something to get himself into.

  He’s got too much hero in him. Mason observed, rubbing a hand over the top of his short cropped black hair. Unlike his younger brother Maxson’s hair, who kept his slicked back and he regularly gave a hard time when it became too long. As the older brother, he felt it was his duty.

  The second guard was much younger than the first and almost looked like he might have been rushed through boot camp to serve in this national disaster. He was taller than the average man, but nearly frail from how skinny he was. Mason guessed by looking at him that he could have used at least twenty pounds in order to look healthy.

  The younger combatant’s eyes were wide open and he appeared to be at attention.

  A façade. Mason watched the soldier’s body language. It was clear to Mason the green soldier was not nearly as mentally equipped to deal with the situation like his older counterpart. Gunfire from the North had gotten closer, sporadically causing the soldier to jolt from time to time a normal civilian. It was clear to Mason that they had found their prey. Bingo.

  Maxson must have made the same observation, “What’ya think? Wall Him?”

  “I think so, little brother.” Mason agreed with a flood of memories coming back to him from his days behind bars.

  Mason respond, “Grab Colty. We’re going to need him.”

  The younger brother huffed amusingly, “You know he hates it when you call him that.”

  “I know. That’s why I do it,” Mason grinned towards Maxson before he walked off to get his buddy. Colton was Maxson’s friend more than his own, but he had known him for just as long. The country boy caused a lot of blunder, but Mason considered him loyal a man with a good heart. In the end, Mason was glad that Colton was friends with his little brother.

  He might have his flaws, but he’s a true friend to Maxson.


  Reggie retrieved his wife, and Catalina’s sister, Inez. She had a hard exterior that took years of being married to Catalina before Mason finally got a glimpse of her soft interior.

  No wonder Catalina is so tough. Growing up with her, she had no choice but to be. Mason had always thought of the dynamics of his wife and her sister, Inez.

  His neighbor Kenneth Banks came back with his daughter, tucked under his arm, “Mason, you’ve met my daughter Belle-Lyanna. Or Belle, for short.”

  Mason offered the younger woman a tight-lipped artificial smile, “Sorry this isn’t under better circumstances.”

  Belle-Lyanna did her best to smile politely back, but it was so faint that Mason wondered if he imagined it. Her green eyes were filled with fear and diverted towards the ground out of the burden she carried.

  Mason felt guilty admitting it to himself as a happily married man that he found her very attractive. Belle’s figure was a physical contradiction, being full of mature curves that were youthfully perky. The teenager’s fair skin amplified her strawberry blonde hair and long legs that must have drove the boys in her grade wild.

  It took their crew ten minutes to round everyone up and regroup. By then, the gunfire had receded even closer to the gym and the refugees within the walls were now beginning to become unruly. One soldier resorted to using the stock of his rife to knock one rowdy man unconscious while another solider aimed his weapon at a separate civilian in a threatening manner.

  “STAND DOWN!” The soldier yelled before calling for backup through his personal radio. Maintaining control of the mass was becoming apparent to the soldiers. Their struggles lead the armed men to become more hostile towards those they were sworn to protect by oath.