“Timmy wasn’t himself, not anymore. Listen to me—we have to go,” Abraham said, turning back toward the mind bending sound of something immense. “Seriously? Can’t I get a flipping break?”
“Grandpa, we have a problem,” hollered Hunter, sprinting into the battered barn. He stopped short when he caught the sight of Abraham. “You got blood all over you.”
“So do you,” Abraham replied, wiping a clump of flowery gore from his flush cheek. The appearance of his grandson wavered and then came back into focus.
“It’s a septic,” shouted Sam somewhere outside in the darkness.
That was a major problem. Encouraging thoughts were in short supply. For all Abraham believed, there hadn’t been a shred of good luck in three years.
“Hunter, get up to the second floor and get your damn sister.” Abraham sprinted out of the barn and stopped dead in his tracks. Mad as hell, he holstered his pistol and cussed. At the far edge of the driveway, the frenzied septic stomped its feet into the ground, shaking everything within an acre. Abraham lifted his slung 55.6 carbine and fired a few shots into its cauliflower, pug face. The bullets had no effect. The deep-seared skin of the septic gave life to his nightmare. “It’s the big guy from the mill,” he hollered back. “It must have followed us.”
“It’s still alive,” Hunter barked, breaching the crown of the ladder to the second floor of the barn. On the second story, the boy was on the same level as the hysterical septic; its skin reeked of excrement, ash, and fouler things. “Coming straight for us,” the boy warned, sending the rifle bolt forward and getting ready to send the demon back to hell.
Abraham watched his grandson proudly.
“Make it go away!” screamed Emme. The freak’s sonic cry boomed like some sort of futuristic military weapon out of a science fiction movie. The sound forced Emme to tear the rechargeable hearing aids from her ears. There was ring of birds that scattered from the trees and darted for safer branches, if such a thing existed. “I want Grandma!”
“I do too,” Hunter said as he got down and took aim at the parasitic features of the profane fiend. He fired with surgical precision. The empty brass flew out as he rocked the rifle bolt back and then inserted the next. It was a big fucking round. Yet, it did nothing to the walking septic tank. Its saturated stink of fungus and parasites swallowed the bullets. Hunter looked at the rifle to make sure it wasn’t a toy. “It’s not working.”
“Where’s Sam?” Abraham shouted turning away from his grandchildren.
Hunter scanned the shadows. “She’s on the roof of the farm house.”
At the base of the tree was a horde of the infected tearing at the jagged bark. At that moment, the rest of the clouds parted as if the Red Mother were coming to the diseased freaks’ rescue. Abraham had slammed one of the large bay doors closed and was working on the second. With every reserve of strength, body, and mind, he heaved. Yet, when he sensed the crimson light, he knew the bad was about to take a dive for worse. Shit! Shit! Shit! The second door crashed closed and he fixed a wedge of timber between the rough notches and fell back. “That ought to hold them,” he gasped, reaching out his hand and climbing back to his feet.
At first there was only scratching at the bay door, then the rest of the infected slammed against the sturdy wood, trying to pry it open. He stood slack jawed and grinned. “Is that all you got?” His head felt empty, and he sank back toward the ladder, vision clouded, pain raging from the depths of his body. His hair was stained red and dripping in the remains of his undead victims.
As if the alien fungus understood his wise crack, the brutal septic charged like a steaming bull fighting to protect its life.
“Grandpa!” Hunter shrieked, rolling away from the high loft doors, above the locked bay doors. It was too late; the foul thing lowered its frame and exploded into the lumber, tearing apart the hinges. The twisting sound of metal was pleasant compared to the hideous sound waves of the immense freak. Emme curled up as part of the roof caved. The septic smashed over and over against the splintering wood. It was relentless in its desire for revenge.
“Are we sick? I don’t want to be one of them,” Emme said, plugging back in her hearing aids. Abraham’s other daughter Lilly was a scientist and created a rechargeable battery system for the device. Emme could hear without them, but certain frequencies fell deaf upon her eardrums. Starved of the solar power of the farm, she would have to learn to survive without them.
“Holy smokes,” Hunter snapped, aiming down the slanted loft doors. It was like awakening from a nightmare. Hunter was too young to understand what his grandfather had experienced in conflict. All Abraham could hear was his little granddaughter both far and near. At that point, the floor splintered and he felt gravity sucking him down toward the mammoth mouth of the creature. Hunter wedged his feet between fractured timbers and poked the tip of the barrel against the final notch and held his position for the moment. “Help!”
“Hunter!” Emme weaved through the broke structure and tossed down a cord of rope that was already secured to a hinge. “Climb, you stupid boy!” Emme must have sounded like her grandpa to Hunter. Abraham watched everything with bated breath.
The towering septic paused a moment just below the loft doors. The crimson light shone on its blistered face and must have reminded Emme of the terrible day her mother and father left. Abraham remembered Tori planting kisses on Emme’s forehead and squeezing her like a teddy. He saw the color disappear from her cheeks. Abraham shot across the barn, ready to face the beast.
The septic howled its buzzing cry, then slammed against the loft doors again. It was trying to tear Hunter down. Sometimes Hunter was a jerk to his sister, but the boy didn’t deserve to digest in the foul-smelling things stomach.
“Grandpa, do something!”
Hunter lost his rifle as it slid down into the monster’s rampage. He wrapped his forearms around the frayed rope as the rest of the floor boards were sucked down. It was like a jagged wood chipper crushing several yards below. The boy did the only thing he could—scream like a little girl. Hunter dangled above the snapping jaw of the septic as Abraham felt a certain rage take over him.
Abraham gripped the icy steering wheel of his tractor until his knuckles were white. He loved his grandchildren too much; it hurt to think of anything else bad happening to one of them. Both had lost their parents and he lost his son.
He screamed in a hysterical frenzy as his foot floored the gas pedal. The engine of the tractor whined as it plowed ahead. The sound of the timber exploding was followed by the spurts of toxic blood spraying against the protective windshield with a thump. He didn’t stop; instead, he slammed the pedal harder, despite the parasitic gore raining all around. The right leg collapsed under the septic as it was forced back, snapping whatever moldy joint was holding it together. The creature was distracted and disoriented, and on its back.
Abraham knew this was his only chance. He pressed harder as the wheels fought for footing, digging deeper into the awful flesh of the beast and a dozen of its lesser friends. The septic’s auditory yowl lasted for several seconds as its branched hands tried to heave the big green tractor off its mushy frame. Abraham simply stared ahead at the fifty shades of red, gasping and trembling, until his eyes took him to a dark place. A place that only existed in the mind of a parent trying to save their child—or grandchild.
Then, it was over, the carnage, the fright; it all ended with a loud slurping sound crushing the remains of the septic like a blender. The huge wheels spun in reckless abandon, the sound a sweet symphony.
“Nobody hurts my family,” he sang. “I don’t care how big you are.”
Abraham slumped forward in the torn tractor seat, pressing his hands tighter against the wheel. Sometimes he could think clear, and sometimes it was the demons whispering their lies. He touched the cold door handle and exhaled. Is it over?
He winced as he hit the ground. Yet, standing there like an angel in the distance was sweet little Emme. She pushed
her purple glasses up the slope of her button nose, then ran to him. No matter what, he had loved her from the first moment he could remember. Even as a baby, only Grandpa Abraham could calm her frantic crying spells. The warm embrace must have meant safety.
He held her against his pounding chest and whispered, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, wiping her dripping nose against the only clean spot on his shirt.
He pulled back and looked her up and down. “What happened?”
“The men in yellow suits with breathing masks came and told Uncle Peter it wasn’t safe. They said the infection had claimed all of the nearby towns. Uncle Peter tried to tell them we were staying and waiting for you, but the men insisted. Our family was loaded up on armored buses and taken. Grandma was crying like crazy.” Emme looked as if she were about to cry again.
“They left you behind?” he asked, brushing one of her rebellious light brown curls out of her shaky face.
“I hid. I didn’t want to go without you. I knew you would come back. I got trapped in the barn with all of those dead bodies. Only they weren’t dead.” Emme’s arms and legs were stiff when she wiggled out from his grasp. “There is blood on the ground, blood on the sky, and blood all over you!”
“Trust me, I hate the color red too,” he said, realizing the infected had devoured all of the farm animals.
Far off over the mountains, Emme heard the buzzing of more infected freaks. When her brother placed a hand on her back, she quivered. “More are coming,” she said, putting an arm around Hunter and giving him a big hug.
He only stared at her with big eyes. “Can you hear them?” Hunter questioned trying to listen for the buzzing sound. “I can’t hear anything.”
“They are coming,” she warned, adjusting her hearing aids. “They’re still far away, but they’re coming.”
In the background there was only the sound of heavy wind and the drip of water. It was the first time Abraham felt like he was without the terrible sound. Morning had come to save them. The sunlight would chase the monsters back into the dark crevices of the mountains. “We should be safe,” he replied.
The swelling in Hunter’s face was bright and would leave a healthy bruise. The boy had a few minor cuts from the collapsing of the barn, but considering the size of the septic; Abraham thought he got off easy. Showing his smile, he pulled the boy and his sister into his warm embrace and sobbed.
“Where did these men take them?”
“I would guess Denver. What about the farm?” Emme asked, placing an ear to his chest as if to listen to the pounding of his heart.
Abraham had come to this place to survive, and it was going to be hard to leave. One moment, they were laughing and playing games, the next moment stole everything. Abraham turned his head back toward the farm house and sighed. “Our time at the farm is over. Fix your eyes in the opposite direction, for that is our future.”
He listened for the voice of reason. However, only the terrible evil spoke to him. The animals were dead, his family taken, but at least two of his grandchildren were safe. He grabbed the little girl and pulled her close. “We’ll find Grandma and then the rest of our family. I swear that to you, my little princess.”
“That thing got enough juice to make it to Denver?” Sam asked, emerging from the curve of the farm house. Her green tank top was now brown-red. She picked up the hammer Abraham had used from the dirt and held it out in her open palm. “Sugar, you might want to keep this. I think it suits you.”
Abraham made himself look at all the carnage. Flesh, fungus, and blood battered together like a cake mix. It took him a moment to realize these things had once been human. The infected no longer looked like people. The fungus had eaten their eyes, and sometimes their faces. He took the bloody hammer and smiled.
“I did what I had to do, and would do it again,” he promised, adjusting his glasses. “If the rest of the way is stuffed with this infected dung, then no, we won’t make it to Denver with the little gas left in the tank.” He regarded the bits of bones and pieces of flesh strung about the area. “But it is a step in the right direction.”
He watched his grandson look up and noticed Sam’s curvy figure.
“Glad you made it,” Hunter said, smiling at the beautiful girl.
“Honey, I’m not going to die. Not until I find my brother. It seems that fate has strung us together. And it’s clear as mud it wants us to travel to Denver or whatever is left of the Mile High City. How about we all get a change of clothes before we set out into the great unknown?”
“But more of them are coming,” Emme warned, tugging on her grandpa’s sleeve.
“Look,” Hunter said, pointing at the first rays of dawn. “The sun will drive them away. We should be safe until dusk.”
Abraham chewed on Sam’s words. They were the same words his wife would have spoken. Yes, believing everything happened for a reason was a bit childish. The universe was vast; the country alone more miles than he could ever walk. The wind could have been wrong, but maybe he simply needed to believe in something. Somewhere out there, far away, his family needed him. The connection of his heart wavered in his heavy chest. I’m coming, Beth. Looking up at the fading stars, he wondered if his wife was looking up at the same blistered morning sky and thinking of him. He turned back toward the truck while everyone else took off to the house. He heard Emme introduce herself to Sam, and promise Sam that she could wear some of her aunt’s clothes. The morning glory had stretched across his wary face, and the daylight gave him strength, strength to fight on in a world of shit and piss. I will search for my family for now and forever.
VOLUME 2: THE ECHO OF DECAY
FALL 2014
If you enjoyed Infected Freaks: Volume One, please consider giving a review and sharing your experience with a friend.
Abraham’s nightmare has just begun…
After a narrow escape, Abraham Heinz and the rest of his group set out to find his missing family members. The hostile territory takes them to an old friend, bunkered down in what is left of a crumbling mountain town.
Abraham finds his friend and is thankful for shelter from the infected freaks roaming the desolate landscape. However, he quickly discovers that his old friend has dangerous secrets. Abraham must decide if the life of a stranger is worth trading for his missing family.
Sign up for the free newsletter on Jason’s website to stay informed on important news, contests, videos, and updates for all things related to Infected Freaks.
www.jasonborrego.com
CORDYCEPS FUNGUS
MIND CONTROLLING FUNGUS FOUND IN BRAZILIAN RAIN FOREST:
Most fictional zombie infections are a product of a deadly virus. However, in the deep forests of Brazil a real cordyceps fungus has done the impossible. It has brought to life the zombie apocalypse on the insect world. Originally thought to be a single class of fungi, the cordyceps is now divided between four distinct species with the possibly for many more. This is part of the inspiration for my book series INFECTED FREAKS.
“The newly discovered phenomenon is frightening scientist around the globe. This is because of the mind controlling abilities the fungi presents. Scientists have announced the zombie fungus species can infect ants, take over the brain, and then kill the insect in a spot that is desirable to grow more fungi and help spread the spores. Some of these ants could travel miles to find the right spot. This makes the body of the ant a puppet to the fungi.
The parasitic spores attach to the ant, eventually breaking through the exoskeleton using mechanical pressure and enzymes. A bit, a scratch, a tear in the flesh would be enough for the fungi to invade the blood stream with the ultimate goal of the brain.
Next up is the yeast stage. The fungi spreads in the ant’s body and presumably produces compounds that affect the ant’s hemocoel and utilizes the evolutionary trait of an extended phenotype to manipulate the behavioral patterns exhibited by the ant. Zombie ants begin to have irregularly spaced full body convo
lutions which sends them to the forest floor. The insect climbs up the stem of a plant and uses its mandibles to secure itself to a leaf vein, with abnormal force, leaving dumbbell-shaped marks on it.
Once the mandibles of the ant are secured to the leaf vein, atrophy sets in destroying the sarcomere connections in the muscle fibers, and reduces the mitochondria and sarcoplasmic reticula. The ant is no longer able to control the muscles of the mandible and will remain affixed here. This lockjaw trait is popularly known as the death grip, and is essential in the fungus’s fitness. The fungus then kills the ant, and continues to grow as its hyphae invade more soft tissues and structurally fortify the ant’s exoskeleton. More mycelia then sprout out of the ant, and securely anchor it to the plant substrate while secreting antimicrobials to ward off competition. When the fungus is ready to reproduce, its fruiting bodies grow from the ant’s head and rupture, releasing the spores. This process takes 4 to 10 days.”
The discovery by David Hughes and colleagues is something of wonder and terror. The fungal growth is only thought to harm the insect population. However, with each new species of fungus the risk to humans seems paramount. The fungus is capable of adapting to various environments and victims. Should the fungi ever infect a human brain the results may be similar to the fantasied zombie apocalypse.
The cordyceps fungus is an ever evolving species that scientists are just beginning to understand. With thousands of zombie fungi in tropical forests across the globe yet to be discovered, the chances of a human infection are high according to some of the specialists in the field.
The fungus uses its host to spread the infection. The human body is capable of spreading such a virus in an uncanny manner. Instead of devouring flesh the will of the creature would be to infect other hosts. This is exactly what these zombie ants do to its own colony. Once an ant is infected, the fungus forces the bug to bit other ants and in doing so allows the infection to spread at a frightening rate. The same concept applied to humans is exactly what the zombie apocalypse entails. However, unlike zombies a brainless body would bloom into a forest of fungus and create pockets of spores to infect the next unlucky person to stroll close enough. The human tissue would feed the fungi for a wealth of time allowing the process to devour mankind in a short period.
Infected Freaks Volume One: Family First Page 8