Apokalypsis Book Three

by Kate Morris

  Wren startled when she heard something at the front door again. She took one step backward into the hallway and looked down it. Another murmur. Another sound that wasn’t human but was. She could hear something at the front door.

  “Elijah, it’s at the front door again,” she whispered.

  He shook his head, “No, it’s not. It ran toward the backyard.”

  He backed away from the broken window until he was with her in the doorway. Then she heard it. There was a call, a screech more accurately, from the front yard to the back which was answered.

  “What is that? Are they…are they infected like those other people?” she asked softly.

  “I think so,” he said and waited. “They’re hunting.”

  A chill raced down her spine, causing her to shiver. He just confirmed what she was already thinking. That was the weird part. These humans who were infected with a virus so severe it made them want to hurt other people were hunting together in a pack like wild animals, which meant they weren’t really people at all anymore if they’d already lost some of the vital parts of themselves that made them human and empathetic.

  She said, “They’re hunting in a pack like dogs.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I’m calling the cops.”

  Wren followed him down the hall and up the stairs. “Elijah, wait,” she called softly when they got to the top floor hallway. “Don’t. Don’t call the cops. Please.”

  “Someone’s trying to break into my house,” he stated firmly. “I’m callin’ the cops.”

  Outside somewhere in the distance, she could hear sirens. They drew closer until she could see their lights through his bedroom window closest to them. She ran in and peered out as Elijah changed from basketball shorts and no shirt to jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Holy shit,” she blurted.

  “What? The cops? Are they here? Someone else must’ve call…”

  “Elijah, come here and look.”

  He rushed over, zipping his jeans as he stood next to her. Together they watched searchlights from at least a dozen rescue and police vehicles flood the neighborhood. The beating of a helicopter’s blades overhead came next along with a stronger searchlight. His backyard and every other one in the neighborhood was lit up like daylight. Those things were everywhere.

  “Jesus,” he swore under his breath. “There’s so many.”

  The pack of humans scattered like rats when the searchlights hit them. Some took off and ran down an alley. The police cars chased after them without their sirens going. They didn’t want to draw attention to what was happening outside these people’s homes. Just the lights and spotlights were still working. This all stank of secrecy.

  “At least a dozen,” she said, counting as quickly as she could.

  They watched until the last of the monsters disappeared along with the searchlights and vehicles.

  “I’m outta here,” she announced and ran downstairs to the laundry where she dug her clothes out of the dryer. She spun and almost ran down Elijah.

  “Wren, that’s not…”

  “You don’t get it, Chosen One,” she said. “I can’t get arrested. I have to think of more than just myself. I don’t lead the privileged life you do.”

  “Wait,” he said, following her back upstairs where she slammed and locked his parents’ bedroom door in his face. “Wren! Just listen a damn minute. Don’t do this. It’s not safe.”

  It sounded like he slapped his hand against the door before walking away. She heard the hall floor creak under his feet. Wren was dressed and ready to go with her shoulder holster back on in a matter of minutes. She folded and laid his mother’s clothes on the bed and turned off the light. When she opened the door, Elijah was standing there fully dressed, as well, with gym shoes and his jacket now also on.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going with you,” he announced.

  “What? No, I…”

  His hand darted out and blocked her exit. “I’m going. Do you see what almost happened here tonight? This old house can handle an assault. Your neighborhood? Your house? Not so much.”

  She didn’t tell him about the reinforced doors her uncle installed. The windows were crap, though. She paused, and he pounced.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. If you’re leaving, I’m coming with you,” he said.

  “Fine,” she replied. He had a backpack and the shotgun and didn’t look like he was going to budge on the issue.

  “Stay with me. They might’ve chased off most of them, but there could still be stragglers.”

  She hadn’t considered that. Her first thought was to get away from those crazy people. Then her next was to steer clear of the cops.

  Wren followed him to the kitchen and into the mudroom, where they both pulled on their shoes. She noticed Elijah was wearing leather boots like her that came up over his ankles.

  He looked at her and said, “I’ll drive.”

  “But my car,” she argued.

  “We’ll get it tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s just get out of my neighborhood for now. We’ll be safer together anyway.”

  That logic seemed hard to argue with.

  She stood behind him as he looked out the glass panel of the mudroom door. It took him a while, but he finally nodded without saying anything. He opened it quietly and waited again. Then he stepped out, and she followed. The night was still, no barking dogs or tweeting birds. Maybe that was a good sign, or maybe they were all too scared to make a noise now. That thought gave her a great deal of discomfort.

  Wren waited on the back porch while he locked the door behind them. Then they rushed to his car, which didn’t look very reliable but fired right up after he pumped the gas pedal twice.

  “Lock your door,” he said. “Vintage ride. No remote anything.”

  She reached behind her right shoulder and pushed the silver door lockdown as he backed out of his driveway into the alley behind their house.

  His car was a stick shift, so he had to shift it manually, which seemed impractical. She was about to point that out when something crashed into the back of his car. Wren actually screamed before spinning around to look.

  “What the…” he started angrily.

  She thought maybe someone was pulling out of their own driveway and hit them. It was one of those things, though, not a car at all. It was on his trunk.

  “Go!” she yelled at the top of her lungs at him. He paused, so she screamed louder, “Go, go! It’s one of them!”

  Elijah floored it, peeling out and speeding away at a pace that seemed unsafe for short side streets in a town. She didn’t care, nor did she tell him to slow down. She just kept swinging around in her seat to look out the back window again and again and didn’t relax until she got to her trailer park. Everything seemed quiet, normal. She made him drive around the park a few times before pulling up to the curb in front of her trailer. Then they went inside, and she locked the door.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s quite the locking system.”

  “Yeah, well, my uncle’s a stickler for safety.”

  Elijah turned and looked at the door again, “I guess.”

  It would be dawn in about an hour or two. Her body was exhausted, but her mind felt wide awake, unfortunately.

  “There’s only one bathroom,” she pointed down the hall awkwardly.

  “Should I take off my shoes?”

  “No, you’re fine.”

  “Where should I sleep?”

  She thought about that for a minute. They’d almost just been robbed or even killed by those sick people. Now, her mind was clear, and she felt self-conscience.

  “Um,” she stammered nervously.

  “I can couch it,” he offered.

  She thought of the nasty old furniture and wrinkled her nose.

  “I just got new carpeting in my bedroom. I’ve got a sleeping bag. You could sleep in there on the floor.”

  “I don’t have to, Wren,” he said with more consideration than a boy her age
seemed he should have. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, I want you to. I…” she said, pausing to reason out in her brain why she wanted him in her room, which she very much did. “I think I’d feel more comfortable if you slept in there.”

  “’Cuz your uncle could come home?”

  She shook her head again. “No, but just in case what happened at your house happens here.”

  “Oh,” he said softly and stepped closer. He touched her arm lightly. “Sure. I’ll stay in there with you.”

  Wren nodded and tried to offer a smile but figured it came off more like a grimace. She led him to her tiny bedroom where he excused himself to use the bathroom.

  Wren dashed around her room and picked up jeans from the floor and a t-shirt. Then she pulled her sleeping bag down from the top of her narrow closet. There was a spare pillow up there, too, but that was it. She and Uncle Jamie traveled light, and they never had visitors. The sleeping bag was in case she had to bug out. The extra pillow was just the only other one they had.

  He came in wearing his t-shirt and jeans and carrying his bag. Wren ushered him in and scooted around his massive body that seemed way too big for her small room. She locked the door, both locks.

  “Another intense locking system,” he remarked, to which she ducked around him again.

  “We’re big on safety,” she announced, trying to be light and humorous.

  Elijah picked the sleeping bag up off the floor and unrolled it.

  “You can have my bed if you want,” she said, feeling bad. “I’ll sleep there.”

  “No, way,” he said. “Chivalry isn’t completely dead yet, Wren Foster.”

  She stepped carefully over him after turning off the light and crawled under her covers. It was strange sleeping in her clothing, but most of the time she only slept in a t-shirt. That wasn’t happening.

  They were both quiet for a while, and she knew he wasn’t asleep and was most likely thinking about the same thing she was.

  “It was one of those people that hit your car when we left your house,” she told him.

  “Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “I know.”

  Wren couldn’t help the shiver that came over her. “Do you think the police know about them like the conspiracy people on the internet have been saying?”

  “I would think so. Remember how strange the sheriff was acting on the phone the other night? Like it was no big deal I was reporting a possible intruder in the school? And tonight? The cops had a helicopter spotlighting them in the streets. Yeah, they know.”

  She found herself wondering if her home was different than America. Were they also being infected with this bug?

  “Can I ask you a question?” he proposed.

  “Uh, yes,” she answered, hoping that he didn’t want to talk about their near-death experience an hour ago. She was exhausted and didn’t want to relive that again.

  “Is Wren your real name?”

  She thought about answering with a lie but decided against it. “Yes.”

  “What about Foster?”

  She sighed. “I think we should get some sleep. I need to go over to Lila’s in the afternoon. Well, I guess in a couple hours.”

  “Sure,” he said in the dark.

  Wren was lying on her side and could see his bare back in the moonlight. He must’ve removed his t-shirt. She was still freezing.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and the next thing Wren knew, she snapped back awake. But it wasn’t just five minutes later. The clock on the wall read ten-forty. Sleepily, she rolled to her side to find Elijah gone and his sleeping bag folded neatly back into a log with a note stuck to it. Wren scooted to the edge of her bed and plucked it from under the elastic strap of the bag.

  Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll be back later. E.

  She stretched and rose to face the day. Then she dressed in clean, slightly less rumpled clothing of baggy, faded and slightly holey blue-jeans, and a black turtleneck. In the kitchen, she cooked scrambled eggs and made pancakes and sausage, too. After she ate, she put the leftovers back into the fridge for Uncle Jamie or maybe even Elijah if he came back.

  As she was brushing her teeth, her mind floated back to last night when she’d fallen asleep at his house instead of coming home. One look in the mirror revealed reddening cheeks. She groaned.

  “Idiot,” she said to herself in a condescending tone.

  Wren had no idea what had caused that momentary lapse of self-control to happen. Lord, she needed to stay away from him. He offered a heaping dose of trouble with a capital “T” that she didn’t need right now. Plus, she knew it was not allowed. She wasn’t even allowed to have a friend, let alone a boyfriend. And it wasn’t like Elijah Brannon, star quarterback golden boy was going to be serious about her. He probably hooked up with cheerleaders every week and any other girl he wanted. There was plenty of talk in the girls’ restrooms and everywhere else they clustered around to discuss Elijah. Wren had, unfortunately, overheard quite a bit of gossip about boy wonder, especially about his body and very specific parts of it, too. There was speculation about his size, the shape of it, the breadth. It was disgusting the way some of the girls talked about him like he was just a sex object. The speculation was gross and went even further to include how he’d perform, girls he’d already slept with who apparently had told others of his performance, the frequency and exact details, how great he was in the sack. It was disgusting.

  “Get your shit together,” she berated one last time in the mirror and spat into the bowl.

  She pulled on her new leather boots and went across the cement driveway to Lila’s and knocked. She opened almost at once and ushered her in.

  “Good Lord, kid,” she exclaimed and stamped out her cigarette into an ashtray. “Have you been watchin’ the news?”

  She shook her head.

  “Some sort of flu virus going around like crazy,” she said, flicking on her television. “It’s on all the channels.”

  So, it was out, exposed. They couldn’t cover it up any longer. Last night, they were still sugar-coating it. She sat on the sofa next to her friend and listened as the reports came in about the number of sick and the symptoms. There was a lot missing from the story, like the violence and murder. They were downplaying it, but at least they weren’t denying it any longer.

  “I wish I woulda’ got Hope vaccinated.”

  Wren reassured her, “I don’t think that would’ve done anything. Hey, Lila, do you…do you know where Alex is?”

  “At work, I assume.”

  “He’s not actually,” she told her friend and went on to explain the situation. Her friend teared up, which surprised Wren because she and Alex didn’t seem that serious. Lila had always made it seem like her relationship with Alex was very casual at best. Her friend then told her about one of the chefs at the restaurant attacking another one. It sounded like the RF2 flu, the more violent one, but neither of them knew definitively how to tell which was which.

  “Can you watch Hope tonight? Just for a few hours? Ernie asked me to bartend tonight. Can’t get anyone else to come in.”

  “Sure,” she said, trying to help her out. “What time?”

  “Actually, I’ll just put her to bed here. If you can just check on her every hour…”

  “No, no,” she interrupted. “I’ll keep her with me. That’s not a problem.”

  Lila picked up on her hesitancy and asked about it. Wren explained what she and Elijah had been seeing and experiencing. By the time she was done, she felt stupid. Most of it sounded made up. She fully expected Lila to laugh, but her friend didn’t.

  “That’s not what they’re saying on the boob tube.”

  “The what?”

  She laughed, “Yeah, guess that saying is way before your generation. My grandma used to say it. Anyway, I meant television.”

  Wren smiled, “Oh, I get it now.”

  “Soooo,” Lila said after a few minutes of silence other than the tele
vision, “you and that cute boy, huh?”

  Wren wrinkled her nose dramatically, “What? No. No way.”

  “Uh-huh, sure. He’s hot as hell. You should totally go for him. That boy was all eyes on you the other night at the festival,” her friend joked and snapped her eyebrows up and down a few times.

  Her friend. The word felt strange to even think in her head. Her temporary friend. Basically, the only female friend she’d had in the past four years. And Elijah Brannon wasn’t even that. No, he was just nothing. Not a friend, or confidant, or anything more serious.

  “No, we just know each other from school.”

  Lila teased her another few rounds of banter before letting it drop.

  Although the sky threatened rain, Wren went for a run after her visit and returned to her trailer an hour later. She locked the door again, even though it was broad daylight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elijah sneaked into the ICU ward again at the hospital and had to be particularly careful. There were a lot more people moving around on the first shift. He managed to convince his brother’s new nurse, a guy named Aaron, that he was immune. He let him stay but warned him to watch out for security guards, cops, and doctors. Unfortunately, his brother hadn’t improved and fortunately hadn’t gotten worse.

  After about four hours, Elijah went down to the lobby where a Chic Fil-A was located and bought three grilled chicken sandwiches, a salad, and a large iced-tea. He’d skipped breakfast, having left Wren’s place at eight a.m. and did not want to disturb her. He’d watched her sleep for a few minutes with the morning overcast gray lighting coming through her single window. She looked so peaceful and young and innocent.

  “Thanks,” he said and took his bag of food after paying. He rode the elevator to the sixth floor again and went to the family lounge. There were a few people present, but they were sleeping on sofas along the wall. He knew all too well about long days and longer nights spent at a hospital.