The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  Ben looked at his son. “Are you good with this?”

  “Dad, I don’t … It’s like he said. We need to protect ourselves. What else can we do?”

  “No, this is bullshit,” Ben said, and fell back.

  Landry looked at Aaron and me. “You have to try for the head. I know. I must’ve killed around twenty-five or thirty so far. It’s the only thing that stops them.”

  “This isn’t right,” Ben said, standing defiantly under a tree.

  Landry ignored him and continued. I can still hear him saying these words. They became my playbook for survival.

  “Each of us has to be capable of doing this, either to save ourselves or another in the group. This is not a movie or a video game. It’s real life. There won’t be time to think. You must respond quickly, which means you need to be observant. We don’t want innocent people being shot. Remember. Observe, assess and act. No hesitation. No remorse.”

  Aaron looked at his dad, who refused to meet his eyes.

  “There are eight plus that one dying on the ground in there,” Landry said. “It shouldn’t be too hard for the three of us to finish the job.”

  “What if we get bitten?” Aaron said.

  “Rule number one, don’t get bitten.”

  Landry swung the gate wide open. Sensing freedom, the undead headed for the opening as he fell back and raised his weapon.

  “Pick your target and fire when they come out.”

  “I can’t do Irene,” I said to Aaron.

  “I’ll take her. You take that ugly son of a bitch next to her.”

  We fired, trying to hit them in the head before they got too close. We found ourselves backing away as they picked up speed.

  Aaron took careful aim and shot Irene through her open, toothless mouth. A sharp pain tore through my heart as she collapsed to her knees and fell on her face, truly dead.

  After a few seconds, seven of the eight were down. Aaron aimed for what looked like a truck driver. He winged it in the shoulder, then shot it through the neck. Still the thing kept coming. Then Aaron realized he was out.

  “Oh shit! Oh shit!” Aaron said, his hands flailing at the weapon.

  A blast tore through the side of the truck driver’s head, and it went down like a load of cement. We turned to find Ben lowering his weapon.

  “Rule number two,” Landry said, “always have another weapon.”

  “And somebody watching your back,” Ben said.

  “Right. I think we’re ready.” Landry went into the enclosure and delivered a headshot to the creature lying motionless on the ground.

  * * *

  We loaded the motor home and my truck with supplies, planning to head out before noon. The cat ran up to Landry as he was getting into my truck. I didn’t want that thing anywhere near me.

  “What about the cat?” I said.

  “She was a stray when I found her. She knows how to take care of herself. Probably better than all of us.”

  Relieved, I fired up the engine, and we hit the road.

  “I notice you still have the axe,” Landry said, glancing at the backseat.

  “Guns jam. That’s my backup weapon.”

  “Good choice.”

  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see Holly again. We were in Hell, and all I cared about was finding her alive. I put out of my mind the thought that she might very well be among the undead, and I kept in front of me her face and her smile.

  That image was all I had to keep me going.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hell’s Waiting Room

  I shouldn’t have taken the freeway. As we got closer to Tres Marias, the traffic hardened to the point we could no longer move.

  “Looks like they’ve started,” Landry said.

  I put the truck in park, got out and climbed into the bed. Ben’s motor home was behind me. I tried peering over the lines of vehicles, which looked to span over a mile. Then I jumped down and ran back towards Ben and Aaron.

  “What’s the deal?” Ben said.

  “They’re diverting traffic off the freeway. All I can see are flashing lights and police cars everywhere.”

  “We should’ve taken that last exit.”

  I looked back. The traffic had closed in, so now we were stuck. As I got back into the truck, Landry looked grim.

  “Chances are they’ve quarantined the whole town. Not sure how we get back in.”

  “We’re getting in,” I said.

  We sat for thirty minutes or so. Then we began to inch forward. The left lanes had been coned off, and we were being gradually forced to the right, down to a single lane. As we made our way over, we heard a deafening noise overhead. I looked up and saw a helicopter with the Black Dragon logo swoop past, flying incredibly low. From what I could make out, all the soldiers aboard it were armed.

  “This just got serious. Why didn’t they call in the National Guard?”

  “I don’t know,” Landry said. “But they might have set up an evac center. Your wife could be there.”

  As we reached the bottom of the off-ramp, soldiers directed everyone under the overpass towards the freeway entrance taking them north again. The first chance I got, I shot out from behind a minivan and headed towards what looked like a military checkpoint.

  Several Humvees were parked there, surrounded by Black Dragon troops with AR-15s. These guys must have been on high alert, because when Landry and I got out, we were greeted by nervous men with guns. We approached them, our hands raised.

  “Whoa!” I said. “We’re trying to get some information.”

  The soldier in charge nodded towards the others, and they lowered their weapons. “You need to keep moving, sir,” he said. He didn’t look like he was in the mood for chitchat.

  “I understand,” I said as I lowered my hands, “but I’m looking for my wife. Is there an evacuation center? Please, I need to find her.”

  He looked at Landry and me for a time, then at Ben’s motor home, which had parked alongside the truck.

  “They’re with us,” I said.

  “Let me see your IDs.” Landry and I handed over our driver’s licenses. “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “Holly Mitchell Pulaski.”

  He gave our IDs a cursory look and handed them back. “Tres Marias High School,” he said. “But I can’t let you through. Only authorized personnel.”

  I was about to object when Landry took my arm. “Come on, Dave. The man’s doing his job. Thank you, sir.” He signaled to Ben and Aaron and climbed back into the truck. Reluctantly, I got in too.

  “What the hell, Irwin?” I said.

  “Can’t you see you’re not going to get anywhere with these guys? They have orders to shoot.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Try being creative.”

  I pulled around the military traffic, with Ben following, and got back onto the freeway heading north. We drove for five miles. I spotted an exit that looked clear and got off.

  “There’s an old fire road that connects Tres Marias with Mt. Shasta,” I said. “If I can pick it up, we might have a shot.”

  “I know that road. Go right.”

  When Jim and I went out drinking, we’d end up on unfamiliar back roads “using the force” to get home. Landry and I did that now, feeling our way by sheer gut instinct. It worked.

  After waiting for Ben to catch up, I turned into an entrance that was barely noticeable from the main road. It was shady and covered by trees. Jim and I used to hang out on this road, drinking and chasing down deer. About a hundred feet in, we saw a locked gate. I didn’t see anyone else there. Landry and I got out and examined the lock and chain up close.

  “We could shoot the lock off.”

  “That’s bound to attract attention,” Landry said. “Where’s your axe?”

  Ben, Aaron and I took turns whacking at the lock. After a few minutes, we were drenched in sweat. At some point the lock gave. We drove through, then I shut the gate and replaced the chain and broken lock to
make it appear secure.

  The fire road was dusty and full of ruts. I had to be careful not to drive too fast, or I might break an axle. It was around ten miles to town via the winding road. Though we didn’t see any military personnel, we passed a number of undead along the way—out-of-shape tourists wandering like addicts, looking for fresh meat. We didn’t risk stopping to deal with them.

  Once we reached Tres Marias, I thought we’d be stopped again. But the troops were preoccupied with keeping order as merchants closed up their shops before evacuating. Some civilians wore surgical masks in the vain hope that they were protected against an airborne virus. One of the merchants, a toy shop owner I recognized, had taped a hand-painted sign in her window that read SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE. At the bottom was a smiley face.

  As we made our way through downtown, I saw the graffiti covering the buildings. One message read ATTENTION TOURISTS: YOU SHOULD’VE CHOSEN SAN DIEGO.

  Approaching an intersection, I saw soldiers, their AR-15s fixed on something in an alley. Several undead staggered into the sunlight, covered in blood from a fresh kill. I heard someone give a command, and they fired. At first they aimed for the chest. When that didn’t work, they aimed for the head and dropped them in seconds.

  Up ahead, another group of soldiers patrolled the sidewalk. I noticed a drunk coming out of the Beehive.

  As we waited at the intersection for the signal to change, we saw the drunk weaving bad. I got scared.

  One of the soldiers said, “Halt!”

  The drunk must not have heard. As they raised their weapons, he kept weaving towards them. My stomach went up into my throat as they drew a bead on him.

  “God, no,” I said.

  Then it happened.

  The drunk went down in a hail of bullets. This was when I knew, if the people in charge couldn’t tell the difference between a drunk and the undead, we were all doomed.

  As we cruised past, Landry said, “Poor bastard.”

  * * *

  A chain-link fence with concertina wire strung across the top surrounded the high school. Armed soldiers manned a single entrance. On the roof, more soldiers trained their weapons on the ground below.

  We stopped at a sentry station. A soldier wearing body armor came over to the driver’s window.

  “I’m Dave Pulaski,” I said. “I live in this town.”

  “What do you want here?”

  “I’m looking for my wife.”

  “I’ll need to see your ID,” he said. Then to Landry, “You too.” He nodded towards the motor home behind us. “They with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  He signaled to another soldier to deal with Ben and Aaron.

  We waited while our IDs were processed using a magstripe reader attached to a laptop. I hoped that the police hadn’t flagged me over Jim’s death. Then the sentry handed back the licenses and waved us through.

  “Not sure how much parking is left,” he said.

  We circled for ten minutes, which, come to think of it, made no sense. Nobody was leaving, so we gave up and parked along a fence that separated the school from a residential street.

  The gym was full. It smelled of sweat and feet. It was hard to hear over people talking and arguing and babies squalling. Sleeping bags lay everywhere. Families with small children, couples, old people. And everyone was scared. I wondered what they’d been told.

  “This is unfortunate,” Landry said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They won’t be able to defend these people. Look at all these small kids—the elderly. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

  “I guess positive thinking was never your style.”

  “I’m facing facts, Dave. Let’s see if we can locate your wife.”

  Though I knew it was hopeless, I texted Holly to let her know we were here, but found that I had no bars.

  We had left our weapons locked in our vehicles on Landry’s advice. Sure enough, we were checked for guns when coming into the facility.

  “I’m going to look for Holly,” I said.

  “I’ll find out what I can from the authorities,” Landry said. “Ben, why don’t you and Aaron come with me.”

  I took my time, starting at one end of the gym and going down every aisle looking for my wife. It was hard to walk in places—peoples’ stuff was spread out everywhere. One woman screamed at me because I almost stepped on her toddler. Everyone was on edge.

  The last time I was in this gym was for high-school graduation. My dad had passed away the year before, but my mom, sick as she was, made it to the ceremony. Though it was no big deal to me, I remembered how proud she was. She had never finished high school. Right before she died, I promised her I would find a way to go to college. Another one of my commitments washed away in a river of beer and regret.

  There were a lot of people whom I recognized from the town. They all had that scared, hollowed-out look, like their spirits had already departed.

  Mrs. Hough, one of my parents’ neighbors, touched my arm as I passed by. Her hair was white—the last time I’d seen her, she was still dying it. She was in her early seventies, but she looked older and frailer.

  “Dave?” she said.

  “Mrs. Hough. How are you?”

  “Not well. They rushed me down here, and I forgot my medication. It’s at the house, and I’m too afraid to go back for it.”

  She was kind of a chatterbox, and I wanted to find Holly. But I remembered how the old woman used to come over and look after my mom during those last weeks and months, bringing her soup and magazines and helping with bathing. So I sat on the floor next to her and listened.

  “They won’t tell us what’s going on,” she said. “They keep saying there’s been some kind of, of outbreak. I don’t even know what that means. Who are these people?”

  “What’s the medication for?”

  “Diabetes and blood pressure mostly. Don’t ever get old, Dave.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll take a run over there.”

  “Oh!” she said. “That’s so kind. My son sent word that he was coming to get me. I told him not to leave school, but he insisted.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I have to find someone, but I’ll go to your house in a little while, okay? I promise. Think you can hold out?”

  “Here are my house keys.”

  “Don’t worry. Why don’t you try to rest?”

  I fluffed her pillow and helped her lie down. She didn’t seem to want to let go of my hand.

  “God bless you, Dave,” she said and closed her eyes. “You’re a saint.”

  It took me a few minutes to cover the rest of the floor. I didn’t see Holly anywhere. I didn’t think she would go back to the house, so I tried to think where else she might be. Why hadn’t she called or texted? There was an obvious answer, but I refused to think about it.

  “No luck?” Landry said when I rejoined the others.

  “No.”

  “They’re telling everyone it’s an endemic outbreak.”

  “Yeah, I heard. What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means there’s a virus that’s prevalent in this area, and it’s spreading from person to person,” Landry said. “Pretty much what I guessed. We can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?” Ben said. “Look at all this protection.”

  Landry signaled for us to follow him outside, away from everyone. “Because,” he said, “once the undead discover that there’s a whole building full of fresh meat, they’ll attack without mercy. And these guys won’t be able to stop them, I don’t care how good they are. This place is Hell’s waiting room.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Ben said. “These soldiers are trained. They have weapons.”

  “And if it was just a few undead attacking, I would agree with you. You’ve seen it. These things travel in hordes. All they have to do is bite a soldier and he becomes one of them on the spot. We can’t risk it.”

  “How many do you think there are out there?” Aaron said.
>
  “At this point,” Landry said, “could be in the thousands.”

  “So where do we go?” Ben said. They looked at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Shit, I forgot. I promised a neighbor I’d get her medication. She’s sick. I can do it on my own.”

  “Take Aaron with you,” Landry said.

  “No,” Ben said, grabbing his son’s arm. “I’ll go.”

  Though Aaron was pretty green, I didn’t have a lot of confidence in Ben. He was an even worse survivalist than me. And with that artificial hip, I felt he was a liability.

  “Dad, it’s fine. I can do this. You stay here with Mr. Landry.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “I love you, son. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll stay in the motor home until you return,” Landry said. “Then we’ll all leave together. Try to hurry.”

  As Aaron and I headed for my truck, a soldier stopped us. “You need to get back inside,” he said.

  “A neighbor of mine is in there,” I said. “I’m going to her house to get her medication.”

  “We’re not supposed to let you people come and go.”

  “I get that, but she’s not doing too well. She’s pretty old.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Eleanor Hough.”

  He signaled to a soldier with a laptop, who looked her up. Then he said, “Make it fast.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Hey, what’s going on with the cell-phone service?”

  “Last I heard, we were looking into it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re looking into it.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, but he’d already turned away from me and had started a conversation with another soldier.

  “What do you think is going on with the cell phones?” Aaron said.

  “Maybe it’s part of their plan to contain this thing.”

  Driving out of the parking lot, I almost hit a kid on a skateboard. It was strange to see someone taking things so lightly—just another day at the skate park. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Dressed in jeans and a black Hurley T-shirt, his long, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. I wondered how long before he wasn’t human.