The Departed

by Chase McCown

  Chapter 6

  February 26th, 2025. Mt. Hood National Forest.

  Howard scanned his surroundings for any sight of the buck. He had caught a glimpse of it just moments before, but now it seemed to have vanished. He stood still for a moment, listening for any movement nearby that might give away its position.

  The eerie silence of the woods was somewhat unnerving. Suddenly, he heard the snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves not far ahead.

  He moved as quickly and quietly as he could to investigate, managing to catch another glimpse of the deer before it vanished again, deeper into the forest.

  Howard loved to hunt, especially when he was troubled or had a problem he couldn’t quite figure out. This was undoubtedly one of those times, as he had no idea what he was going to do now that the church had let him go.

  He followed the buck to the last place he’d seen it, but he couldn’t find any trace of it now.

  Howard sighed. “Well, you win this time.”

  He checked his watch, and to his surprise, it was already past noon. Time always got away from him out here in the wild. He decided to gather up his gear and head back to his house to make lunch.

  He headed back toward his truck, which was parked just outside of the forest.

  He’d been walking for quite a while when he saw a glint of bright orange ahead. He instantly recognized it as the vest hunters wore to distinguish each other.

  “Hey! I just saw a huge buck not far from here. He went that way if you want to go after it.” Howard pointed back to the direction he was coming from, the place where he’d last seen the deer.

  The man said nothing. Howard could clearly see the outline of the man now. He wasn’t holding a gun and was trembling and pacing in the woods.

  “Hey, did you hear me? I said there’s a big buck over here.”

  The man turned to look at him, but something didn’t seem right about him. He looked sick.

  “Are you okay?” Howard asked.

  Without any warning, the man suddenly took off in a mad sprint toward him.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” Howard asked, raising his rifle.

  The man kept coming. He was within fifty yards now.

  “I said stop! Don’t make me shoot!”

  The man still came. He had closed the distance between them by half.

  Howard fired a warning shot at the man, but he ignored it and kept coming. He was almost upon him.

  Howard knew he didn’t have time to reload his weapon. He swung it around, grabbed it by the barrel, and slammed it across the head of the man who was coming toward him.

  A gruesome crunch told him he’d done more than simply deter him.

  Howard stood over the body, his heart racing. He knew the man was dead. Blood poured from his head, and his eyes had rolled back into his skull. What had made the hunter act like that? How would he explain all of this to police?

  He called for an ambulance and explained to the paramedics everything that had happened. When the police arrived on the scene, they asked if he would accompany them back to the station to answer a few questions. He agreed, and within minutes, he was sitting in an interrogation room.

  A man who called himself Investigator Drummonds walked in after a brief wait.

  “Is he okay?” Howard asked.

  “He didn’t make it, I’m afraid. You want to tell me what happened?”

  Howard told the investigator everything. How he’d seen the man while he was hunting and about how the man had run at him, about how Howard had warned the man and fired a warning shot but the man kept coming, and about how he’d finally hit him with the rifle. The investigator nodded the whole time, occasionally stopping to clarify certain things and jotting all of it down in a notebook.

  “So you say this man attacked you—or, rather, that he was going to?”

  “He was running straight toward me. I never moved. He just kept coming, and when he wouldn’t listen to my warnings, I just ran out of options.”

  “I see.”

  “There was another thing…” Howard began.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, he was acting strangely before he attacked. I was talking to him, but he kept ignoring me. His body was shaking like his muscles were quivering or something, and he was pacing back and forth.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. And you say he never said anything?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Very interesting,” the investigator said. “And that’s everything, correct? You don’t have anything else to add?”

  “That’s right,” Howard said. “Am I— I’m not going to jail, am I? I was only defending myself.”

  “No, you’re free to go. Here’s my work number. Give me a call if you think of anything else. Thanks for your time.”

  “I will. Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.”

  Howard left and went straight home after that. He was three hours late for lunch by now, but it hardly mattered. He couldn’t have eaten anyway after what had happened. He sat up thinking about the man and wondering what had caused him to attack like that.

  On top of that, he still didn’t know what was going to happen with the church. He did know, however, that everything would work itself out in the end.

  Chapter 7

  February 27th, 2025. Seattle, Washington.

  Susan drove slowly through yet another neighborhood. She didn’t remember what it was called, and she really didn’t care. She only cared about one thing: the gray pickup truck. She had been searching for weeks, but so far she hadn’t caught a trace of it. Eric, her neighbor who had killed her husband, was still out there somewhere.

  She turned back around to check the neighborhood one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. As she scanned the driveways of each house, a shrill voice startled her. A tall, thin woman was waving Susan down, trying to get her attention. She had a scowl on her face, and her eyebrows sat in a wad on her forehead.

  Susan stopped her motorcycle and removed her helmet to hear what the woman was saying.

  “What are you doing? I’ve seen you creeping around peeking in these houses,” the woman squeaked.

  “No, I’m just—”

  “I know what you’re up to, and you can just turn around and go back to wherever you came from, because if you try anything, the police will be here before—”

  Susan rubbed her forehead with her hand and huffed in frustration. She put her hand up to silence the woman so that she could speak.

  “Will you please shut up? Just for a second. I’m looking for a car. I used to work with the police department, and this car belongs to the man who murdered my husband. It’s a gray pickup truck.”

  She described the car to the woman and asked if she had seen it anywhere.

  “No, I’m afraid not. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

  “Thanks,” Susan said then put on her helmet, turned her motorcycle on once more, and headed for the interstate.

  She planned on looking a few more places that she hadn’t yet had time to check out. First, she would stop at the bar she knew Eric had frequented.

  She arrived, and since it was still only around noon, the place was almost empty. She walked up to the bar, and the bartender looked up at her casually.

  “What can I get you, ma’am?”

  “Some water would be great.”

  The bartender poured her a cup of water and slid the cup over to her.

  “Tell me you didn’t come in here to drink water.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for someone. Have you seen Eric Greene lately? I’ve been looking for him for a while, and I can’t find him.”

  “How do you know Eric?”

  “He was a friend of my husband’s. That’s actually why I’m looking for him. My husband’s dead now. He was murdered. In a 911 call he made, he made it clear that Eric was the one who killed him. The police are looking for him, and I want to do whatever I can to help them find him.”

  “
Last time I saw Eric was a week ago or so. He came in acting pretty strange. He was pretty agitated at something, then when someone called him out on it, he just snapped. He attacked the poor guy, left him beaten pretty bad, and then just left. I haven’t seen him since, and I can’t say that I want to in the state he seemed to be in, especially if you say he’s killed somebody.”

  “Well, thanks for your time anyway. Here’s my number. Call me if you remember anything else,” she said, writing her phone number on a napkin and handing it to the man.

  “Will do.”

  She then decided to check a few apartments since she knew Eric must be staying somewhere, and the police hadn’t found him at his home.

  The first one she went to was nearby. As she approached the parking lot, she spotted something. It was a gray pickup truck that matched the description of the one the police were looking for. She parked her car and walked closer to the vehicle. The license plate was a match. She had found his car at last.

  She called the police, who came and towed the car away as evidence. More officers arrived a few minutes later and searched the apartment complex, but Eric was nowhere to be found.

  Now, all Susan could do was wait anxiously for any news on the progress of the case.

  Chapter 8

  May 1st, 2025. Hollywood, California.

  Jacob looked out of his apartment window at what little remained of Hollywood. Sirens wailed throughout the city, warning the populace of the continued danger posed by the outbreak. Police and rescue vehicles passed frequently on the streets of the city in a vain attempt to keep up with the breakneck pace of the epidemic as the death count continued to rise steadily.

  A roar overhead caught his attention.

  A large plane flew low in the sky, narrowly avoiding the proud skyscrapers that overlooked the city. Jacob’s entire room shook as the plane passed by. The roar of its engines drowned out the noise from everything else, and as it passed directly overhead, the bottom of the plane opened up. Page after page of paper fell from the plane’s belly toward the pavement below.

  Jacob’s mind began to race. What was written on these papers? Why did the plane drop them here?

  After its payload had been delivered, the plane turned and headed back toward the east. The hatch of its belly closed shut once more, and it soon faded from view.

  Jacob’s curiosity soon got the better of him, and he decided he would go down to the street below and see what the papers said.

  He threw on a tee shirt and blue jeans, grabbed a baseball bat to protect himself with, and headed out the door.

  It was only a short walk from the apartment to the street, and thankfully, the streets seemed to be largely deserted. After a few minutes, Jacob arrived at the pile of papers without incident.

  He picked up the closest leaflet and began to read.

  How to identify the symptoms of RODAS

  The symptoms of Rapid Onset Destructive Aggression Syndrome (RODAS) may include the following:

  Irrational behavior

  Irritability

  Lack of sleep

  Restlessness

  Extreme aggression

  Manic behavior

  Euphoria

  Elevated heart rate

  Elevated blood pressure

  Fever

  What TO DO if you believe a loved one may be infected

  Avoid contact with any infected individuals. RODAS is highly contagious through the transmission of bodily fluids, such as saliva or blood.

  If someone you love exhibits symptoms of RODAS, isolate the individual if possible.

  Avoid contact with the deceased. RODAS may still be transmissible after death.

  You cannot reason with the infected.

  Where can I go to find safety?

  Washington DC

  Atlanta, GA

  Charleston, SC

  Virginia Beach, VA

  Jacob tossed the leaflet aside.

  “RODAS?”

  He repeated the word to himself several times.

  Jacob then had an idea. If I can film some of the chaos, I might be able to get work as a journalist when all of this blows over.

  That is, if it blew over.

  This was his best shot at becoming famous.

  Jacob ran back to his apartment. He flung open the front door, propped up his baseball bat in the corner, and rummaged through the closet in his bedroom.

  “Where is that stupid camera? I know I put it in here recently. It must be in here somewhere… Ah, here it is,” he said at last.

  He opened the large black box that contained the camera. Everything seemed to be there and in one piece. He closed the box back up, satisfied that everything was in order.

  He snatched up the keys to his car and headed out of his front door, camera case in hand. He loaded the camera into the back seat of his car and sped off toward the heart of the city.

  “Okay, let’s see. Where should I go first?” Jacob asked himself.

  Just then, he heard the wail of a police siren. A squad car sped past him, and he veered to get out of its way.

  “Well, I guess that’s a pretty good place to start.”

  Jacob followed the squad car as closely as he could, but it was going so quickly that he struggled to keep pace without getting into an accident.

  The police car finally came to a stop in front of a towering hotel. Jacob had seen this hotel before. It used to be a beautiful building, but now broken windows were visible from the street, and debris littered the sidewalk below the building. Shadows enveloped much of the building in darkness, and the parking lot of the building was all but desolate.

  The officer got out of his car, raced to the door of the hotel, flung it open, and sprinted inside.

  Jacob pulled out the bulky camera case and attempted a clumsy jog to keep pace with the officer, but the officer had already disappeared up the stairs by the time Jacob entered the hotel. He knew there was little chance that he could keep up with the officer while carrying the camera.

  He ran over to the elevator and pressed the button frantically. After a few seconds of silence, the door slid open.

  Yes! The elevator still works! he said to himself.

  As Jacob struggled to load his camera into the elevator, he saw a man walk in from the street.

  The man shuffled about slowly—that is, until he saw Jacob.

  Once he spotted Jacob, his eyes grew wide, and he roared aloud in a frenzy. He sprinted at Jacob while Jacob pressed the close door button as quickly as he could.

  The man closed the gap between himself and Jacob quickly and was soon within a few paces of the elevator.

  Finally, the doors slid closed.

  That was a little too close.

  Jacob carefully set the heavy camera down while deciding which floor to investigate first. He had no idea where the officer might have gone, so he would have to check floor by floor until he arrived at the right one. He pressed the button to go to the floor right above the one he was on, and the elevator jerked upwards.

  As the elevator began to ascend, Jacob heard the person, or thing, or whatever it was clawing at the metal doors below, trying to force them open.

  After a short wait, the door slid open again.

  This floor looked desolate. Debris was scattered across the ground, and a door had been knocked off of its hinges and lay on the floor directly in front of the elevator. Very little light penetrated the area, save what small amount filtered in through the glass of the building’s windows.

  After listening for a few moments and hearing nothing, Jacob decided that the officer must have gone to a different floor. He closed the elevator doors and clicked on the floor right above the one he was on. Once again, the elevator began to ascend.

  After another short wait, the doors slid open again.

  He peeked out carefully, and to his relief, he saw the officer knocking on a door straight ahead of him.

  “It’s the police! Open up!” the officer said.

&n
bsp; “Officer?” Jacob asked.

  The officer spun around, gun drawn, causing Jacob to drop his camera in surprise.

  “Don’t shoot! I’m not one of them. I was just following you. I saw you speed past me on the street, and I thought I might be able to catch a story,” Jacob said, kneeling down to investigate the state of the camera.

  The officer shook his head and holstered his gun. “You’ve got to be more careful. You could have been killed! I could have shot you just then. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Jacob Hoffman. Yourself?”

  “Pete Connors.”

  “Well, the camera’s shot. What were you doing up here, Pete?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Just stick close to me, understand?” the officer said.

  “Sure thing.”

  The officer kicked in the door and headed inside. Jacob followed right behind him, happy to have a policeman with him now.

  “I got a call that the owners of this building reported hearing a gunshot here,” the officer explained. “I don’t see anything, though. Wait… Hey, you! Stop, get down on the ground!” he shouted.

  Jacob looked at where the officer was shining his flashlight. He wished he hadn’t. There was a pool of blood, and a man crouched down beside a body. He didn’t respond to the officer’s orders, and the officer slowly reached for his pistol.

  “I said get down on the ground, now, or I will shoot you!” the officer repeated.

  The man stood to his feet, blood dripping from his fingertips and stained across his clothing. He spun around and faced the officer.

  The man twitched and fidgeted and shrieked, the same way the other man had that Jacob had run into moments before. He sprinted at the officer.

  The speed of the man was surprising. The officer fired off multiple shots, but the man never even flinched.

  He flew into the officer, and the two crashed through the high window toward the ground below. Jacob heard a sickening crunch, and then a car alarm went off.