Charlie sat downstairs at a small kitchen table facing a sliding glass door at the back end of the house. Just outside, an old wooden balcony overlooked the heavily wooded property below, which sloped downward until reaching the edge of the backyard where thicker woods prevailed. The oblivious moon provided ample ambient light through the open doorway as it made its transit across a silent midnight sky.

Charlie got up and stepped outside for another look. The balcony creaked beneath his feet sounding almost as pitiful as the bitch-fest voice which rang out in his head. He saw nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing meant no more running and screaming at things now higher up on the food chain that had your name on their palates. Nothing meant more bullshit watches for ‘yours truly’ so that the selfish and frightened children upstairs could take advantage of you and get their beauty sleep while others had to suffer. Nothing meant torturous minutes that made the hours drag on while you had to stare out into the dark and try not to let your imagination get the better of you. Nothing was fucking synonymous with endless, which translated into: I’m in fucking hell.

He was tired. Physically, mentally—he’d had enough. Enough of being told what to do, where to go, when to fucking jump!

Just you wait, Charlie. First opportunity you get to shake off these fucking losers couldn’t come soon enough! No one listens to you when they should. No one has a fucking clue where we’re going and why. They just want to take turns barking orders and disrespecting you at every turn. Who do they think they’re talking to? That fucking Doug says, ‘Move!’ and everyone moves. He says, ‘Stop!’ and everyone stops. Bunch of mindless drones who can’t think for themselves. What would they do if their precious Commander Douglas wasn’t there to tell them how to put their panties on straight? Please… give… me… a… fucking… break!

And if that’s not bad enough, everyone’s kissing that crazy old woman’s ass at every turn. Let’s just forget that she went all psycho-psychic on our ass! Oh, no, it’s Meredith for Christ’s sake! She’s not infected, she just wasn’t herself for a little while. Well, news flash, people: I’m sure somebody somewhere said the same damn thing right before they had their face ripped off when people at random underwent the so-called ‘change’ and were suddenly no longer ‘themselves’!

And then that red-headed bitch shows up. Embarrasses you in front of everybody because she can’t take a fucking joke! Should’ve slapped that woman across the face and put her in her place! Fucking women’s liberated lesbos on the fucking march! That’s the problem with this world today—everyone’s so damn politically correct, which translates into a society full of ultra-sensitive pussies!

Just you wait, Charlie boy, your day’s coming. When they finally get their heads screwed on straight, they’ll find out just how much they need you. When that day comes—BLAM—you’ll leave ‘em in the dust and shake their shit-for-brains right off of your shoes! Until then, you play their silly games and do what you’re told. But they’ll regret it. They’ll regret the day they all took Charlie Ottermeyer for fucking granted!

Charlie’s internal rant came to an immediate halt as Amanda crept around behind him, plopped down in the next chair, and said, “Boo!”

He tensed up, and then let out a heavy sigh. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Amanda placed a hand in front of her mouth to stifle her amusement. “You should see the look on your face. Priceless.”

He gave her the finger which just made her keel over with laughter.

“You’re a fucking child,” he said, dismissing her with a wave.

“Oh, come on, Charlie. There’s no need to get all testy. I know just what you need.” She retrieved the bottle of whiskey from her lap and placed it on the table. “Ta da! Instant friend-making magic juice! I knew I’d find something eventually. Everyone’s got a stash and I have a knack for finding stashes.”

“Seriously? Now? With all this shit going on, you want to get drunk?”

“Charlie, I’ve been drunk, it’s the sober part that’s got me worried. It’s far too surreal at the moment.”

He laughed. “Well, it’s hard to argue against that point right now.”

“There you go,” she said enthusiastically. “Charlie cracked a joke! Now have a fucking drink with me and let’s take the edge off this zombie apocalypse for a little while. I’ll do it alone if I must. But drinking’s always better in company.”

“Why the hell not,” Charlie said, taking a generous sip from the bottle. The warm whiskey hit his tired system immediately. He coughed and added, “I’m… not much of a whiskey man.”

Amanda took the bottle and said with a wink, “No worries, it gets easier by the third swallow.” She lifted the bottle upward and poured the liquid into her mouth.

“My mother used to say that everybody’s good at something,” Charlie began, astonished by Amanda’s immunity to consuming large quantities of liquor. “Even if it’s a fast track to hell, better to be good at getting there than making a mess of the damn job. I think Mom was good at feeding me endless lines of proverbial bullshit.”

Amanda placed the bottle down and leaned back in her chair, letting the shotgun blast of alcohol obliterate her higher senses. “Oh, that was good. Just the damn pick-me-up I’ve needed since that fucking campground nightmare. So what are you good at, Charlie, besides getting under everyone’s skin?”

“Oh, lots of things, like leading this raggedy band of misfits—not that any of these idiots would care to find out. Present company excluded, of course.” He took a larger drink from the bottle, wanting to impress the veteran drunk.

Amanda nodded. “Better, right?”

Charlie coughed it down. “Yeah, like sucking down a glass of anti-freeze on a cold winter night.”

Amanda laughed. “So what do you think of this crazy plan? Are we going to find an island paradise out there somewhere and wait this shit out?”

“It’s fucking madness. We need to find somewhere close and hunker down, preferably a federal building, police station, or a bank… somewhere in town with close access to supplies. Hell, a fucking Wal-Mart would be nice. But here we are in the middle of nowhere, and that means no one’s going to be able to rescue us when order is restored.”

“I’d settle for the mall. That would be excellent. Plenty to do while we’re hunkered down, as you say. I’m starting to believe we’ll die of fucking boredom long before anything else, if these miserable misers have it their way.”

“Yes, I think you see the bigger picture. These clowns want us to move away from people. We should move inland because that’s where things will be fixed first. Not out here in the fucking sticks.”

Amanda took another drink. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m listening, Charlie. Not that my opinion matters. I never got a vote when everyone decided to follow these tracks out of town. We should’ve grabbed a good vehicle and found a back road to anywhere. But here we are instead.”

Charlie nodded with a far off look. We’re going to die out here. Long after they’ve cleared out all the zombies some fucking hobo’s going to find our scattered bones along these tracks and leave us to the vultures. He shook his head and grabbed the bottle again. “Yes, here we are.”

“So I ran into Greg staring out the front window,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “You should see him. He looks like a serial killer Santa Claus with that axe in his lap and that long beard.”

Charlie snickered at the image.

“He gave me the willies just watching him staring out that window as if he were waiting for them to come. Talk about a doom-and-fucking-gloom attitude. I don’t know where Frank disappeared to and that’s fine by me. He’s got the social skills of a fucking plant—make that a Venus Fly Trap.”

Charlie laughed and said, “You don’t have to remind me about that guy. He’s always staring at everybody with that sideways glance of his and keeping his distance like we’re too good to live on his fucking planet! Yeah, Mr. Creepy is outside right now—can you believe that shit? He’d rather sit on a roof top than condescend to our level. Said he was going to be out back watching the wood line. Whatever.”

“Well, he can have at it,” Amanda said. “Let the dumb-ass freeze while we sit in here and relax. Some of us are still civilized.”

“Here, here!” Charlie raised the bottle in a toast. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to watch for his fucking Batman signal or something. Said that if he came across trouble, he’d use his flashlight and shine it at my window.”

“How absurd! He’s like a grown-up child playing secret-agent-man or something.”

“I know, right. So as you can see, I have a very important assignment this evening. That’s why I’m sitting here in the dark while everyone else gets a good night’s sleep. I’ve become fucking Robin, everyone’s favorite underrated sidekick and Frank gets to be Batman.” Charlie mocked a heavy sigh.

This got Amanda rolling. “Oh, shit! Haven’t laughed like that in a while. Well, Robin, we’ll keep the midnight oil burning with this fine bottle of escapism and should the Batman arrive and want a drink… we’ll tell him to go fuck himself—sidekicks only.”


After an hour and several drinks later, Charlie couldn’t stop stealing glances at Amanda’s evening attire. He assumed she’d come down from a restless attempt at sleep to raid the liquor cabinet because her long brown hair hung wildly over her shoulders, drawing attention to her low cut tank top and her ample cleavage which demanded attention. His attempts at fighting arousal were made null and void due to his exhaustion accelerated buzz.

Amanda caught him staring several times and laughed it off with the occasional teasing glance.

Finally, Charlie did what he did best and let his mouth get him in trouble. “Hey, it’s been a long night. Let’s say we skip all this verbal foreplay and why don’t you go ahead and lift your shirt and show me your tits.”

Amanda, caught off guard, spit out a spray of whiskey. “Down boy. I invited you to drink with me, not to fuck me. What the hell do you take me for? I don’t even know you.”

Charlie’s face turned red, not appreciating being called out and cock teased. “Don’t flatter yourself. The scenery was better than what I’d been staring at for the last couple of hours and I thought I’d get a better view. That’s all. Keep in mind the lack of light helps your cause.”

“Ouch. You really are a mean-spirited little man, aren’t you?” she teased.

“I don’t need observations from the town drunk turned camp slut.” He almost regretted saying that.

Amanda’s face grew hard. She took another drink which softened the blow. “Hand jobs mostly. A little making out. Sometimes I let them grope a bit… not much more than that. Besides, I didn’t hear any of you complaining about the stuff I brought back.”

“Hand jobs, blow jobs, blah… blah… blah. Hey, does the whiskey help drown out the aftertaste?”

She immediately pushed back her chair and stood up.

Probably shouldn’t have said that, he thought.

She wobbled a bit then grabbed the bottle. “On second thought, I think drinking alone is more preferable. You really are an unpleasant shit. And to think I wasted this with you.” She started toward the stairs, striking the arm of a couch on her way.

“Don’t trip and fall down on a random cock on your way up… unless there’s a fifth involved.”

She flicked him off, too intoxicated to engage the little man in verbal warfare.

“Whatever.” He shifted uncomfortably at the throbbing pain between his legs.

Stupid cock-teasing cunt! You’re all the same. Advertise the goods just to cancel the sale.


She compared her alcohol induced numbness to sitting in a small theater for one, detached and witnessing the class-five emotional tornado moving in closer and closer toward the ghost town known as Amanda Howard. The silent black and white horror reel continued on a continuous loop as she sank deeper and deeper into the shadow-filled emptiness of her seat, stripped of vital senses making her incapable of feeling… anything.

Amanda walked up to the top of the stairs and found Marcus sitting on the landing.

“I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” he said, noticing the bottle.

“You haven’t so much as said a word to me since we left,” she said. “So let’s cut the crap, alright. It’s not like we made promises or anything. We’re not in a relationship. I just didn’t expect to be thrown aside like a piece of garbage.”

Marcus did not trust a response.

“Well, say something, you fucking idiot! Did you think we wouldn’t run into each other eventually?”

“Amanda, you’re upset, and you’ve been drinking. Maybe we should talk tomorrow-”

“Fuck tomorrow! We could be dead tomorrow.”

Marcus looked down the hall. “Please calm down. You’ll wake everyone up.”

“What, you mean I’ll wake the fucking red-headed bitch? Is that what’s happening here? I’ve seen how you stare at her. Hell, you’re practically falling over yourself to be up her ass at every opportunity. What is it with you fucking men and your need to poke your pricks at anything with a pair of breasts?”

“Amanda,” Marcus said sternly, “you’re coming awfully close to crossing the line with me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this bullshit, but I won’t let you make our… friendship… a cause for trouble right now.”

“Is that a fucking threat?”

“Sit down and be silent!” Marcus hissed. “I’ve tolerated your drinking up to now out of respect for your grief. That was before things got hazardous. We have real fucking concerns before us right now so you either get your shit together or I’ll take that bottle and shove it up your ass! My concern was for the child down the hall. She’s been having nightmares on and off all evening. Last thing she needs is your volatile behavior making things worse.”

His sharp tone and fierce eyes struck her like a fist. She’d never seen him like this before. And he was right. “I’m… I’m sorry. My God, I’m acting like some jealous and insecure wife.” She plopped down next to him on the landing. “Is Marie alright?”

Marie is dead!

Realizing her slip, Amanda quickly unscrewed the bottle of whiskey and drowned the memory of her daughter.

Marcus mercifully dismissed it. “Ashley is doing as well as can be expected. She’s seen more horror than any child should ever see… and there’s probably more to come.”

She looked into Marcus’s concerned eyes and said, “Wow, you’ve immersed yourself into this little group in record time. They seem to have taken to you as well.”

Marcus appeared uncomfortable. He sighed deeply and said, “Before all hell broke loose, we were all strangers coexisting indifferently with each other. Now we all have one thing in common that outweighs our many differences—one thing that makes it easy to breach all those barriers of ignorance and prejudice.”

Amanda waited.

“We are all alive. That didn’t matter much before. Now, nothing else does.”

She was surprised at how badly she burned for him in that instant. Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck and teased, “I can still think of one other thing we have in common that matters.” She placed a kiss on his lips.

Marcus resisted.

She searched his blank facial expression and felt foolish. “What’s the matter?” she asked, removing her arms. “Have I become repulsive to you now? I said I was sorry.”

“Amanda, I’m on watch. What would the others think if we were caught fooling around right now?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t give a shit about what they think.”

Marcus frowned. “You should go get some sleep. We can talk in the morning if you want… after you’ve sobered up.”

“What do you want, Marcus?”

“That’s a loaded question with a complicated answer.”

“Don’t be evasive. You know what I mean.” She reached between his legs.

“Please… just go to bed.”

Amanda was getting upset. “I’m not a fucking child! So don’t treat me like one.”

Marcus sighed.

“Whatever.” She turned and nearly stumbled down the stairs. “You had your chance, stupid man. And I’ll sleep when and where and with who I damn well please.”

“Amanda…” Marcus rolled his eyes.


Charlie stepped out on to the porch and tried to locate Frank in the still darkness. The moonlight made an elongated shadow forest stretch across the backyard, disappearing into the thicker forest that stared back at him until he felt exposed.

Mr. Creepy could be anywhere. He’s probably been upstairs sleeping for the last hour.

After five long minutes, he could no longer tolerate the loud silence and went back inside.

“Boo,” Amanda whispered, causing Charlie to jump.

He sighed. “Again, what the hell is wrong with-”

All his thoughts fell away as the moonlight followed him inside and lit up Amanda’s pale and naked flesh. She sat in his chair, legs crossed, with her arms folded across her chest.

The pain in his crotch immediately returned as his rapidly beating heart seemed amplified in the silent night.

She stretched out her arms, thrusting her bare and bountiful breasts up toward him. “You were saying something?” she teased.

“I… holy… shit…”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” She uncrossed her legs revealing the rest.

Charlie couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was almost convinced he was dreaming. Things like this never happened in the real world. Not to him.

The cool night air made her nipples stand at attention. She was losing patience. “Oh, for the love of God, what the hell are you waiting for?”

“Right here? Now?”


“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes… right now.”

Charlie frantically began removing his clothes, nearly tripping on his own pant legs.

Amanda reached down for the bottle by her side and took another drink to silence the boring voices of conscience and consequence which tried to stop her.

Fuck Marcus! Fuck everything! I’m tired of feeling dead inside, like those monsters. I want to feel alive!

Completely naked, Charlie became self-conscious of his protruding gut, flabby limbs and hairy body. He felt like a frat boy on initiation night.

Amanda got up and led him to a spot behind a couch. “Lie down,” she ordered.

Charlie obliged.

She sat on top of him, grabbed his penis aggressively, causing Charlie to wince, and guided it home.

He immediately began to moan.

“Don’t you dare!”

He nodded in understanding.

She pinned his arms to the plush carpet, her breasts dangling across his hairy chest, as she forced her abdomen forward… again… and again.

Charlie tried to grab her breasts, but she refused to let him move. “Hold still, bitch. I’m not done yet.” She drove forward. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder.

He caught a nipple in his mouth as they slammed against his chin. She rode him until her body dripped with sweat, holding on to his manhood with what felt like a vice grip.

After two minutes, Charlie could hold back no longer as he let out a strangled sound, the spasms from below seemed endless.

Amanda continued to thrust forward, refusing to let him go limp until she could find release.

The pain in his loins was becoming too intense. Charlie needed her to stop. “Amanda…”

“Shut up!”


“I’ll snap it off if I need to. So stop your fucking whimpering, minute man, and let me finish!”

“Get off me!”



“No.” She continued to force herself on him, rubbing him raw, until she finally climaxed.

Charlie was in pain.

She immediately got up and started getting dressed.

“Where… where are you going?”

She stepped over him and grabbed the bottle. “I’m done with you. I’m going to bed.” She walked off without another word, heading straight for the downstairs bathroom to wash up, leaving Charlie alone in the dark.

He got up and slowly put his clothes back on, looking back repeatedly to see if anyone was watching. His pants irritated his bruised inner thighs making it difficult to sit. He hobbled out on to the porch feeling confused, and surprisingly… violated.

From the corner, just at the base of the stairs, Marcus’s face was unreadable, shrouded in shadow. He turned and headed back up the stairs. He’d seen enough.


Next Episode 12-3:

Previous Episode 12-1:


If you’re enjoying Don’t Feed The Dark so far, please consider voting for it on Top Web Fiction and Top Site List by clicking the links below. This will help increase its visibility and draw in more potential readers. No registration is required. Thanks for your support and for reading :)


“Chapter 12-2: The Devil’s Dark” Copyright © 2014, 2015 Scott Scherr. From the Novel “Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares”.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission by the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Comments? I love to read them

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s