Sean approached her with the needle, and her eyes jerked his way. “They get it right this time? They screwed the pooch on what they gave you already.”
The man nodded, “thank you for that by the way. Sticking me while I was sleeping, just wasn’t right.”
“You just needed some motivation Sweetie. But you should be grateful. You’re going to be immortal, just like me,” she cooed, wincing slightly as the needled punctured her vein and Sean injected the contents of the syringe.
“Now, you should heal rapidly, but try not to get shot in the head. I don’t think even this version is strong enough to come back from that,” Sean informed the evil witch before her. “Down side is, it requires Human blood to replenish its strength. And if you don’t get it, you’ll lose all logical thinking and be focused solely on that one need until you feed again.”
Jenn’s smile grew, “isn’t that why we brought her here? A shared meal?”
Sean withdrew the syringe, then picked up the vial again. “That was the idea. Personally, though, I think you just wanted someone to talk to other than me,” he responded, as he drew another dose free. “Kind of sweet justice that it’s Todd’s bitch we share, they seem to be obsessed with that sort of thing.” He glared at her and grinned, “don’t worry, he’ll be fine until we get back to him, he’s got another wife to keep him company. For now.”
There was a loud bang on the door and Sean jumped, the needle sliding free and falling on the floor. Her head swiveled quickly in that direction and relief flooded her as it burst open, Joseph and Weir appearing, weapons ready.
“Shoot them!” she screamed. If Sean got that vial and injected himself—
He must have had similar thoughts, because he lunged for the syringe and dual muzzle flashes thundered in quick succession. Joseph was through the door and at her side with a few brisk steps.
“You’ve got to kill—,” she told him in a panic, looking back at the empty chair before her and shocked to find that Jenn was gone. “No! We need to find her! We can’t let her live!”
“Let who live?” Joseph asked, scanning the room as his fingers worked the straps binding her to the chair.
Weir walked over to Sean’s body and gave it a swift kick. There was no response. Raising his .45, he pulled the trigger and put three in the dead man’s skull. “Just want to be sure,” he remarked, glancing in their direction. “We need to motor. Rankin’s called in an airstrike. We’re airborne in five.”
“You can’t let her live! She’s been injected with the virus! She’s the one that caused all of this! Please Joseph, we have to find her,” she begged, shrugging the last of the straps off and getting to her feet.
“Monica, there’s no one here. We don’t have time. Did you hear what he said? They are going to level this place. We need to go!” Joseph returned, grabbing her by the arm.
She pulled against it. “You go. She can’t be allowed to live!”
“I will knock your ass out and carry you if I have to!” Joseph yelled.
“You two fight it out, I’m getting the fuck out of here,” Weir announced and disappeared down the hall.
She struggled a moment longer, eyes searching the room for where Jenn had gotten off to, but there was nothing. Probably another damn secret compartment. It would take too long to find it. “What about the cure?” she relented, letting Joseph lead her into the hall.
“Was bullshit. A lure to get us to bring him up here,” Joseph responded. “They’ve got the hard drives, all the research. If we can get it out of here, maybe they’ll be able to make one of their own. But if we don’t get on that chopper, they will take off and leave us here.”
She nodded and broke into a run. Together they burst through the front doors and towards the Seahawk waiting outside. Weir was motioning for them to get on, the other helos already airborne and out of sight. She grasped the man’s hand and let herself get pulled up, Joseph close behind.
“Ringo, let’s go!” Weir yelled over his shoulder, slapping the side of the helo for good measure.
They began to gain altitude, and she shifted in her seat to look at the compound below, her eyes searching the dark countryside around it. If Jenn got out, there’d be no way to find her. She had to hope that the bombs went off before that witch found a way. If that virus made it out of there—
“Who were you yelling about in there?” Joseph asked her, leaning forward and following her gaze.
A loud thundering noise approached from the west and seconds later a bomb fell directly on the roof of the main building. It was like that scene in Poltergeist when the house pulled in on itself. One moment the building was there, the next it was being swallowed up by a large orb of white fire spreading rapidly in their direction.
“Jenn,” she answered, her heart thudding in her chest. “It was her all along.”
Joseph looked upon the destruction taking place and smiled, “well, there’s no way she could survive that. So, breathe easier okay? I don’t know what’s going on, why you think it was her instead of Sean, but trust me, she didn’t make it. We’re safe.”
Epilogue
Todd
Tucson, AZ
“You get everything?” he asked, looking around his old house with a tinge of loss in his heart. The U-Haul was waiting out front, already packed from their trip to Sam’s house, and the kids were busy loading the last of the boxes now. He was surprised that not only was it still standing, but that it hadn’t been looted in the months that had passed between the outbreak and their pulling up. He had expected it to be stripped clean, nothing but unwanted photos left behind, but the door had still been locked and they had to break a window to get in.
Neither of them had been able to find their keys.
“I think so,” Monica replied, walking from the bedroom with her pillow and a stuffed animal under her arm. “Remember this? You bought it for me on our first date.”
He smiled at the lost memory, but couldn’t actually recall it. It had been twenty years and everything from before the outbreak had begun to fade into a fuzziness that just seemed unreal; a life lived by another that he was only witness to.
“Yeah, didn’t think you would,” Monica laughed playfully. “The kids finish up?”
“Looks like it. There’s eight of them out there, so it shouldn’t have taken them that long to pack up the truck,” he answered, walking towards the large bay window in the living room and looking out.
Sam was standing there with Tammy, watching as the boys finished with the last of the boxes. Skye was playing with Arthas nearby, his tail wagging excitedly as they ran around in circles. Two vehicles were lined up behind it, a Humvee to escort and a mini-van to follow up.
Even after the last of the zombies had perished, the world had not returned to normal. The government was taking a long time to reestablish itself and there just wasn’t enough people in these parts to maintain civilization as it was. Bandits, rape gangs, psychotics, lay in wait for unsuspecting victims to blunder into their path.
The Humvee usually gave them pause.
“You hear that General down in Huachuca has declared himself governor of Arizona?” she mused, taking a last look around their house.
“He’s done a good job of cleaning up the southern half and keeping the peace. If he wants the job, who can really tell him no? Besides, I think half the population that would vote for him are currently under his command,” he joked, opening the door.
She remained where she was for a moment, her eyes glazing over. She had been doing that ever since her return and it was not something he thought would go away any time soon. Something horrible had happened up in Illinois. She refused to talk about it, and had only been willing to discuss it one time, after a copious amount of Tequila, but refused to do so since.
Her eyes shifted north and a frown slid into place.
“Babe, we should get going. We want to be north of Morenci before dark,” he told her, trying to snap her out of it.
“I kno
w,” she responded, half there. “I just—.”
He put an arm around her and made her start walking out the door. He left it open; what did it matter anyway? They got what they needed, let nature take the rest. “I get it Babe. But it’s been six months and nothing new has happened. We monitor the news outlets, talk with members of the government to stay informed. If there was any chance that she survived, she would have popped up by now. If a newer version of that virus was released, it has taken a very long time to spread. That doesn’t sound like the ReAm Virus.”
“I know you’re right. I just—got this feeling like it’s not over,” she commented softly, hugging him back.
“How can it be? We’re building a new community in the middle of the woods, having to grow our own food, teach our own children, and having to go everywhere in pairs so as to not let another outbreak happen within our walls. Our lives are completely changed, forever. I don’t think it’ll ever be over,” he told her as they walked down the driveway. “And it’s spring time. We have a lot of work to get back to. Crops needed to be planted, livestock to maintain, and supply runs need to be organized. We made it through the winter, but there are a lot of things we need to go find or it’s going to be an even longer summer.”
She chuckled, “you hear? The President signed an order that one of the first business that need to be reopened and producing products is Tampax?”
Laughing so quickly it made him cough, he nodded, “I’m guessing even she’s running low at this point. Hey, in a world of teeth and blood, there can be nothing worse than a woman’s time of the month leading the hounds to the henhouse.”
She thrust herself against him, rocking him sideways, “you’re so gross.”
“Yeah, but you love me despite it,” he grinned back, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
“You two all set?” Sam asked. Her hair was back to being the magenta color he’d grown accustomed to. She had personally made a run to the first hair supply store they’d seen and cleaned them out.
He nodded and winked. “We’re good. Just remember, we need to stop at Wal-Mart, see if there are any diapers left.”
“Ros?” Sam asked curiously.
“Yeah, she’s already in panic mode. Keeps calling that guy in the NSA, trying to coerce them into having a doctor on call when the time comes. Wants lots of diapers and formula,” he returned, as if reading an internal shopping list. “Oh, and baby powder.”
“The things we didn’t think to stock up on when the world ended,” Monica laughed.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Right? It’s not like you see a lot of people having sex during the apocalypse. I mean, no one hardly ever got laid on the Walking Dead.”
“Well, this apocalypse has been totally different, hasn’t it?” Monica teased, winking in Sam’s direction. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen Joseph or Sabrina for months. Do they even take a break to eat?”
The two women laughed and he felt the last vestiges of his old life begin to fade away. As he walked towards the front of the Humvee, he let go of Monica and turned one last time to look at their old house.
Giving it a silent goodbye, he got in and started the engine.
It was time to go home.
Six months earlier…
A charred hand reached out and grasped the soil, pulling her broken form free of the rubble and screaming as air touched her blistered skin. Her eye lids were gone, so she couldn’t shut out the sun, and a few strands of stray hair flittered across her vision like annoying flies on a humid day.
The formula she had been injected with had kept her on the edge of death for so long, she thought her sanity would be forever lost in the agony that had become her life. Having ducked out of the room the instant the first bang hit the door, she had found a spot in the basement to hide until they were gone, but hadn’t had enough time to get out before the bomb struck.
It had nearly roasted her alive.
Standing on the edge of the forest, she looked at the destruction around her and at the smoldering crater to her rear. The father of her baby was dead, but he would live on through his child. She hoped it was a girl, boys were easily distracted and misled. A woman, however, when given a purpose, will see it through no matter what the cost, to the bloody end.
Laying there in the sun, her body slowly starting to mend itself, she began to laugh. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t care. She was alive. She was going to live forever! And in the end, Monica and her people would gain nothing but a short reprieve. For the future was hers!
She would lead the country from its ashes. proclaim herself the Goddess that she was, and remake the world into what it was always meant to be.
If they resisted, she’d eat them alive.
There always had to be a backup plan, right?
Note from the Author
It’s weird typing those words, the end, as my fantasy series is nowhere near finished and it has been the sole purpose behind my writing for twenty-years. Yet, when I wrote that final piece of the epilogue, it truly felt like it was.
I’m not saying that there won’t be additional novels set within the Rotting Souls world, but if there are, it won’t be with these characters. I wish them well and thank them for letting me write their story, but their time has come to an end.
I realize that with the price of editing these days that I took a risk putting these novels out there, I mean, what if they flopped? So, I want to take a moment to thank those of you that are reading this for your support and hope that you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I tried to tie up any loose ends, as that would drive me nuts in a story. And when I added that last part of the epilogue, my wife literally said “really? You couldn’t just let it be?”
No, I couldn’t. I don’t know that I will. Just because the song has been sung doesn’t mean an encore isn’t on the horizon. But for today, in this moment, I am done.
I’ve read every review given, tried to respond to those I felt were well stated, and addressed the concerns voiced. I know that while reading the first three novels, questions never seemed to fully get answered and events seemed unbelievable at the time.
I hope this novel explained all of that.
I can’t say the ending was planned, and trust me, the woman I based Kayha on will pitch a fit once she reads that last chapter, for all she asked for was to survive, not be the one to kill everyone. Yet, looking back over the novels, seeing how many times the characters were confused about what happened, how Sean stayed ahead of them, how he was getting outside help, it clicked and I think this was the ending that was intended all along.
Once more, I thank you. And I hope to see you down the road. Keep an eye out for Charon’s Vengeance, possibly next year. Til then, check out the excerpt from my next novel: Focal Point, and maybe take a crack at the fantasy novels.
Any constructive or insights are always welcomed at my website or Facebook page, so feel free to hit me up.
And if anyone is at the World Fantasy Con in San Antonio this November, stop by and say hi, just don’t knock me out and try to eat me. I think there’s been enough of that already.
Special thanks go out to my wife, Mandy, from whom the inspiration for Monica truly lies.
To Tabitha Ladin, an artist that inspires and gave me the courage to publish my works for the world to see.
And to those that love the genre of novels I have taken a stab at. I hope my zombies didn’t disappoint. If they did, I’d say eat me, but as Todd would say, “that’s such a bad choice of words.”
For more information on upcoming novels, visit:
https://www.facebook.com/TRayPublishing/
http://timothy-ray.com
or join our mailing list at:
[email protected]
Timothy Ray was born in Tucson, AZ, where he resides with his wife and three children.
He graduated from Desert View High School and was part of the Writer's Club for three years.
He attended the Art Center Design College to work on a Bachelor’s degree in Animation.
He wrote his first book, the Acquisition of Swords, his Sophomore year of High School.
The Following is an excerpt from
My upcoming novel:
Focal Point
A Slipstream Novel
Chapter 1
I
She stumbled out of the alleyway, her hand applying pressure to her abdomen in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Despite her efforts, she could feel the warm pulse of fluid escaping through her fingers. She couldn’t tell how bad it was, but her limbs were already starting to feel weak, her head fuzzy.
She was short on time.
Of all the ways to go out, this was never even considered a possibility. They had been waiting for her to arrive, the ambush nearly killing her. Only her quick actions and honed reflexes spared her life, but now it looked like they’d get what they wanted anyhow. She was going to die, an echo of a future that no longer existed.
The device on her inner thigh throbbed, making her pulse quicken.
“Jennifer, your vitals are dropping. You require medical attention,” a voice spoke up within her mind.
No shit, really? What do you want me to do? Not like I can just go to a hospital. I need options, dammit! There were items in her possession not easily explained, not to mention the nature of the wound. The questions would never be answered to anyone’s liking and if she got separated from Weena—
She leaned against the brick wall, pausing briefly to try and catch her breath. Reaching into one of the many pockets in her black trench coat, she withdrew a bottle, fumbled at the top, then quickly slipped a couple of pills into her mouth. She tried to swallow them dry and could feel every inch of progress they made down her dry throat.
She closed her eyes and waited a minute, allowing the medicine time to kick in. It was fast acting and would help temporarily increase her stamina. If she was going to do something, this was the time; there may not be another.
The Rotting Souls Series (Book 4): Charon's Coffers Page 21