Infected (Releasing the Magic Book 1)

by Maya Riley

  The nation was turning into absolute madness.

  Frantic voices filled the air as my fellow students cried their love and fear into their own phones as they raced for the door. I chased after them, joining the horde of students and faculty crowding the halls. Leaving the empty building behind me, I burst into the sunlight and was met with a terrifying sight. Countless people were running around, stampeding. Some were trampled in the panic, while others were run over by cars unwilling to stop. Sirens wailed from all directions, adding to the mass hysteria.

  All the panic was wreaking havoc on my mental state. The screams from my childhood rose to the front of my mind and were amplified by those of the ones around me. My chest tightened and my breathing turned into pants, as the memories began to flood back even faster. I needed to focus on one thing at a time. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths. Slow inhale, slow exhale. Blocking the outside world for a moment while I collected my thoughts, reminding myself that I was free, regardless of what happened now. A hard body bumped into me, knocking me forward as my eyes flew open once again, and I took in the scene around me.

  It was chaos.

  Another text message from Mama G flashed across the screen. My jaw dropped when I opened the message and saw her request. She wanted me to go to her. I was so confused—why would she care about my safety? No. She didn’t care about me. She never had. The selfish woman had to have some ulterior motive, some way that she could benefit from me. She never did anything to benefit anyone other than herself.

  If I had to choose between possibly becoming one of those lifeless, infected beings staggering about on the news, or going back to the life I had escaped from, my decision was easy. I was going to remain free even if it killed me.

  More vibrations quaked through my palm and I clenched the phone in anger before smashing it down onto the hard concrete, shattering the glass and plastic.

  Turning my back to the life I wished to leave behind, I headed into the tree line and never looked back.

  Blyss

  6 Months Later

  Branches sliced my arms as I raced through the woods, trying to escape the group of rotters coming from every direction. With the virus coursing through their bodies, they decayed at an accelerated rate, and skin would begin peeling off within a couple days.

  I circled back around in a wide arc, and my eyes zeroed in on a dumpster leaning against an old, abandoned building about forty feet away. I dug the tips of my shoes into the earth as I quickened my pace, barreling toward it as the rotters closed in on me. With a grunt, I leapt off the ground and reached up, and my fingertips barely closed around the rusted lid. I pulled hard and hauled myself over, landing with a thud on the hard top.

  Rolling back onto my feet, I crouched and scanned the area in front of me, with my butt pressed up against the wall of the building. The rotters were closing in, their decaying corpses moving at different speeds as they dragged their dead feet across the pavement. Just like the living, rotters weren’t all the same either. Some moved incredibly slow, while some walked almost as fast as the living.

  I’d counted at least seven before I lost track. I was completely outnumbered. Dammit! Why did I have to drop my dagger back in the woods? Why didn’t I bring a backup weapon? I always brought a backup weapon.

  Rule number one: never head into rotter territory unprepared. My odds of surviving were higher if I went into the desert without water than it was to go up against rotters without a weapon.

  I took quick stock of my items. I had the clothes on my back—a jacket, jeans, and tank top—which provided coverage to help protect from bites and scratches, lowering the chance of infection. I also had my backpack that contained supplies I recently looted from several bodies. Inside were generic pain meds and canned goods, but nothing sharp enough to pierce a rotter’s skull.

  Even the sling bag I had acquired was now gone, lost in my earlier dance with the dead somewhere along the forest floor with my dagger. That bag was very important because of the first aid supplies that it carried.

  I was screwed.

  Raspy groans of the undead increased in volume as they reached the dumpster, their teeth yellowed and full of pulpy bits of bloody flesh as they snapped at me. They may be slow as hell, but one moment of underestimating them could end your life. I’d seen it happen more in the last few months than I cared to think about. The human population had rapidly reduced.

  They began to climb on top of each other to get to me, creating a growing tower of rotting corpses that stretched higher with each passing second. Brittle fingernails scraped against the side of the dumpster, with pieces of the nails breaking off with the struggle. Standing up, I turned and looked at the roof behind me. I reached my hands toward the edge but it was too far up. I jumped and stretched out my arms, desperate to reach the roof, but it was still beyond my grasp. My hands scraped against the wall as I slid down, leaving drops of blood behind in my failure. I turned to face the moving barrage of decaying bodies and pressed my back against the wall once again. In a few more seconds they would be on me. My only option was to use my speed and jump over their snapping jaws at the last possible moment. Hopefully, their bodies would be too entangled to follow, and allow me some time to retrieve my dagger before hightailing it out of here.

  I watched in horror as they closed in—a mass of rotting flesh and broken limbs—intent on getting to the only warm, living body they could sense. Bones crunching, like rocks being forcefully rubbed together, filled my ears as they continued to pile upon each other. They were now only a foot away from my legs. Spreading my feet apart, I bent my knees and started to count down in preparation for my jump, when suddenly, an arrow whizzed past and pierced the skull of the nearest rotter. I froze when a second arrow impaled the skull of another rotter, then a third, their bodies falling to the ground with a thud.

  A voice above shouted for my attention. Looking up, I saw a hand within reaching distance of my own jutting over the edge of the roof, attached to a tattooed arm. The hand was alive, and that’s all I needed to know before jumping up and grabbing hold with both of my own. I braced my feet against the solid brick, the soles of my shoes sliding as I scaled the side of the building, trying to get up as fast as I could.

  I barely cleared the edge in time, finding myself sprawled across the flat roof. Once I scrambled to my feet, I turned to face my savior.

  My rescuer, a man clothed in grey cargo pants and a formfitting shirt that showed off his muscled chest, had his fingers on the fletching of an arrow, notched in a compound bow. He released the arrow into the mass of monsters below, then reached back to his quiver for another arrow to nock, and repeated the process. I looked at the contents of his quiver to see he didn’t have enough arrows to take down every rotter below. However, it should be enough to reduce their numbers and allow us to escape.

  Once the quiver was emptied of all but one arrow, the mystery man turned to face me, and my heart skipped a beat. He had coffee-colored eyes framed by dark hair and stubble that lined a handsome face. Muscles rippled across his arms as he secured the bow onto his back. Nervousness tickled under my skin and I had no idea what to say. So I decided to begin by thanking him for saving my life.

  “Nice hands.”

  Smooth.

  His eyes were emotionless as they bore into me. “Take off your jacket.” His stern tone left no room for argument.

  “Excuse me?” I scoffed. The nerve of him.

  “I need to see you weren’t bitten or scratched.”

  Oh.

  “I can guarantee you that I was not bitten or scratched. They never actually touched me. I can outrun anything,” I said with complete confidence. “Besides, most guys actually attempt to get a girl’s name before asking her to undress.”

  “If you’re wrong, I will not hesitate to put a dagger through your skull. There’s already enough rotters in this world, and I don’t need to deal with any more.”

  “You really have a way with the ladies.” I
rolled my eyes. “Thank you for getting me out of that rough spot, but I didn’t need your help. I had a plan.”

  “You mean merging your body with the brick wall? I don’t think that plan would have gotten you very far.”

  “And this is my cue to leave. Dealing with rotters is more enjoyable than this conversation.” I turned and made my way to the edge of the roof, trying to figure out the safest way down. It looked to be at least a ten to fifteen foot drop if I didn’t use the side with the dumpster.

  He blew out a breath before I could get very far. “Look, I’m not very good at dealing with the living. Well, people in general. Can never be too careful when it comes to safety nowadays. Humanity is at an all time low, and I don’t trust easily. It’s made me kind of an ass at times. I’m sure you’ve seen what happens to those with the Void Virus?”

  Of course, I have. Everyone has. In the couple weeks following the outbreak, there was still electricity. Journalists, who were extra dedicated to their work, stationed themselves in newsrooms and constantly updated anyone who followed. TVs in businesses all throughout town were locked on the same channels, replaying every bit of the news until new information arose.

  I only made it to the next town over before I was overwhelmed with rotters and forced to take sanctuary. I was amongst some of the people who holed themselves up in a nearby diner, watching TV with our eyes glued to the screen, while rotters pounded away on the windows. When I did tear my eyes away from the news, it was to watch with horror as the infected people outside began to decay within days. The slowest rate of infection from what I’d witnessed was under twenty-four hours. By the time the diner was overrun and I was forced to leave, the infection had already spread worldwide. Now, the only way to communicate was to use a radio and go through all the stations until you picked up on a broadcast. It’d only been six months, but any sort of updates were now few and far between, since the entire human population was fighting to survive. I hadn’t even seen a radio in about a month.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I may have come across one or two with the virus.” Even those living under a rock would know about the chaos that ensued.

  He thrust out his hand and I stood there for a few moments looking at the rough appendage. Was I supposed to shake it? Was he going to throw me off the roof? It was difficult to tell with this guy.

  “Name’s Lincoln.”

  I tentatively reached for his hand and gave it a single shake. “B.”

  “B? Is that supposed to stand for something?”

  “I don’t trust easily either. Today you only get one letter. If we meet again, we’ll see how things go and I’ll determine if you deserve another.”

  Dropping his hand, I made my way around the small roof. The best way down would be the way that I got up here in the first place. There were still three rotters trying to scale the sides of the dumpster, their arms stretched into the air, grasping at nothing. Sightless eyes faced the direction I had disappeared, their noses sniffing for any trace of my scent. The ground was littered with over a dozen others that had fallen after receiving an arrow to the brain. I skimmed the area and didn’t see any additional threats, so I bent down and lowered myself from the roof to the dumpster. As soon as I landed with a thud, I quickly turned and jumped over the rotters, then took off straight for where I had lost my dagger.

  I spotted the sling bag first, and scooped it up with a wave of relief before flinging it over my head and securing the strap across my body. It didn’t take long before I saw the glint of my silver dagger lying in the grass at the end of the tree line. I raced in that direction and quickly retrieved it before looking back behind me toward the building. The man, Lincoln, was still on the roof with his arms crossed, and an amused look on his face. The rotters seemed more interested in him than me, as they still had their arms outstretched in his direction and ignored me altogether.

  Well, he did use up nearly all of his arrows to save me.

  Groaning, I ran back and used my dagger to rid the area of the last few remaining rotters. With a violent stab into their brain, the rotters fell into a motionless heap.

  After a couple jumps, Lincoln was by my side. He bent down and ripped an arrow from the head of what once was a woman with long black hair, the name tag on her shirt said ‘Justina.’

  I looked away, unwilling to compare the monsters with their former selves. Living, breathing people with hopes and dreams, lives and families. Knowing their names just made it harder to take them out. It was too hard to see people who had bathed in the light now dance with the darkness, with every ounce of life gone from their eyes. I had spent my life in a darkness that was a bit different than this one. One that had existed behind closed doors. It was not a place I would wish for anyone to visit, and the worst part was once you joined the rotter darkness, there was no going back. There was no more light. I pushed those thoughts away and carried on.

  Walking over to the nearest body, I wrapped my hand around the arrow, pressed the bottom of my boot against the rotter’s face, and pulled. After some tugging, the arrow came free with a sickening pop, and I repeated the process until we had retrieved every arrow.

  Task complete, I looked over to see how Lincoln was fairing, and caught him walking with a slight limp as he packed up the arrows that he’d collected. I frowned. Could that be from a rotter injury? Hopefully he wasn’t infected with the virus.

  I quickly turned my head and busied myself with examining the arrows in my hands, so he wouldn’t catch me staring.

  Lincoln strode over with an outstretched hand, ready to take back the arrows. I held them up and close to my body. He was only going to get these after answering some questions first.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” I wiggled a scolding finger at him. “One arrow equals one question.” I grabbed the first arrow with my right hand and tapped the feathered end against my chin. “How did you get up on that roof, and what were you doing up there?”

  A small grin lightly tugged at one corner of his plump lips. “That’s two questions. So, I’ll get two arrows back.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was cute, but being a smartass was my job.

  “Well, I got up there the same way you did, minus someone else’s help. I climbed up there earlier. I was scavenging and thought why not scale a building. It was nice and peaceful until I was interrupted.” He gave me a pointed look and held out an expectant hand, and I handed over the arrows. Two down, three to go.

  “Are you all alone out here? Where are you staying?” I asked, switching an arrow between my hands with each question. I didn’t expect him to actually answer these. If he was willing to play my games, then a good man he was.

  He gave me an uneasy look that made me question whether I’d crossed a line. I was sure I had, but you didn’t survive out here by being considerate of others’ feelings, and I needed to know as much as I could about what was outside the ‘safe’ walls that made up my shelter. It was important to gather as much information as I could in order to have as few surprises as possible. There was no such thing as a good surprise in this world. Not anymore.

  “Right now, I have three friends that I trust. I will not, however, tell you where I’m staying, and I’m sure you can understand why. Choose another question. Preferably one that won’t lead to an ambush while I sleep.” A darkness passed over his face when he spoke the last words—memories that haunted him.

  I handed him two of the remaining arrows. “Fair. So, then, where’d you get the bow and arrows?”

  “They used to belong to someone I knew. I took them off his back after I put a dagger in his head.” The gruffness of his voice told me he didn’t like where this game was going.

  Well shit. Now I feel like an ass.

  Handing over the final arrow, I bid him farewell. “Well, thanks for the help. Until next time.” I turned and purposefully took off in the wrong direction.

  Rule number two: never let an unknown person discover where you’re sleeping, or you risk getting robbed, killed, or
worse, infected. Rotters weren’t the only things that went bump in the night.

  After putting what felt like enough distance between us, I glanced over my shoulder to see that the coast was clear, and turned toward the direction of my shelter. A little while later, I saw the familiar dark grey roof of the two-story cottage I had taken refuge in. Hurrying through the door, I smiled when I saw the excited, wagging tail of my German Shepherd mix. Puppy had saved my life in more ways than one. She was the only real friend I’d ever had.

  Missing Assistant

  Voices floated through the abandoned buildings as I ran around the city, gathering supplies for my few comrades. Curious, I followed the sounds until I reached an old bar and cautiously approached the rusted doorframe. The smell of feces invaded my nose as I stepped around the door, which was a crumpled heap on the group, and peered around the doorframe to see a group of people with their faces twisted into feral looks. They grinned down at two people who were sobbing on the ground at their feet.

  A middle-aged man, kneeling on the dirty floor, was pleading with the crowd. His lip quivered as he begged for the life of the little girl who hid behind him, clutching a teddy bear to her chest.

  Spittle flew onto his face as the giant in front of him belted out a deep, sinister laugh, his eyes laced with malice. “The Roaches” that was badly sewn into his shirt flashed in the streams of filtered sunlight as his chest rose and fell with every laugh. I watched as the behemoth of a man raised his hand and a black object glinted in the filtered sunlight, the barrel pointed at the man’s head. An explosion filled the air and my eyes widened with horror as the man fell to the ground, as blood spattered the surrounding chairs and pooled on the floor around his forehead. The little girl’s screams filled the air and terror rooted me to the spot. I struggled to comprehend what just happened. Humans weren’t fighting the rotters, the real threat, like they should have been for survival. They were taking each other down.