Spore Series | Book 2 | Choke

by Soward, Kenny

  “If you have any issues with Kirk,” Tricia said, “tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I can defend myself,” he said, not meaning the words to come out so harsh. “It feels weird that I don’t have that option. If feels like a, um…”

  “Prison camp,” Jenny finished for him.

  “Right, a prison camp.” Randy nodded as he used his fork to shift around some potatoes, carrots, and shredded chicken in his gravy.

  Tricia wore a frown for a moment, but it smoothed out as she considered his words. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it, but you have to admit it’s much better than being out there on your own. I can’t imagine what people do to survive out there.”

  Randy thought about everything they’d been through in Kentland; those poor people at the church who’d suffocated; Jenny’s friend, Ally, murdered in cold blood; the twins’ life and death struggle with Krumer.

  The twins knew exactly what people were doing to survive.

  “I have to admit, this hash is amazing.” He changed the subject, taking another bite followed by a nip from the corner of a piece of cornbread.

  “See, there’s a bright side to being a captive at the Colony.” Tricia gave him a fun smirk, causing a warmth to rise in his chest.

  “What about you, sis?” Randy said. “Do you think—

  Something flew through the air and landed on his plate with a splatter of gravy. Randy reached into the slop and pulled out a Twinkie cake still in its wrapper.

  He held it up to Tricia just as a commotion erupted in the center of the food court. Randy stood and watched as one of the male soldiers pulled a woman out of line by the arm and threw her down. He recognized the woman as a scavenger from another team, and the soldier was one of a half dozen standing around.

  It seemed like a simple disagreement until the soldier took one step and brought his palm down hard across the woman’s face. She fell back with a cry, and the soldier followed with a boot to the woman’s shoulder that knocked her the rest of the way to the floor.

  The crowd fell silent, although a few groaned each time one of the soldier’s blows hit home. Randy was already stepping over their bench with his jaw clenched in anger.

  “No,” Jenny said, throwing up her arm to block him.

  Randy pushed Jenny’s arm aside and approached the soldier. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he got there, but his gut told him he was about to do something stupid. Never mind that the soldiers were armed with pistols.

  One of the soldier’s friends nodded a warning to his buddy, and the soldier spun to face Randy as he stopped two yards away. He noted the name tag on the soldier’s fatigues read C. Odom.

  “Can I help you?” Odom smirked.

  “I think you dropped something,” Randy said, and he tossed the gravy-soaked Twinkie at the soldier. The cake hit the soldier in the chest and bounced off, leaving a spot on the front of his uniform.

  “Who the hell are you?” Odom said with narrowed eyes.

  “Just someone who might be a bigger challenge for you,” he replied, his tone defiant.

  Odom gave an authoritative nod. “The rules are that no one steals under threat of public punishment.”

  “What did she do?” Randy asked.

  Odom glanced down at the Twinkie lying on the floor. “She stole food.”

  “A Twinkie?” he scoffed. “It’s not like she committed grand theft auto. Do you need to kick and punch her?”

  “It’s Jergensen’s rule. Are you saying Jergensen’s rules are bullshit?” Odom countered with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be curious to see what she thinks of your opinion.”

  Fear crept up Randy’s spine. He’d expected the soldier to challenge him, not threaten him with Jergensen. He had to think quick. “No, I’m saying Jergensen might find it annoying that you’re beating on one of her scavengers.”

  Odom puffed up and was about to respond when Tricia stepped in front of Randy and gave him a quick buck with her backside that knocked him a step back.

  “Hey, Odom,” the corporal said. “I’m right there with you, man. But it’s just a Twinkie. Take it upstairs and let her have a ration pulled or something. No need to beat her.”

  “You’re aware of the policy, Ames.” Odom shifted his position and faced Tricia. “We’re supposed to call out people who screw up.”

  “You’re outranked, soldier,” Tricia said, and the warm look she’d had for Randy a few minutes ago hardened into stern authority. “I said, take it upstairs.”

  “Oh, I will, Ames,” Odom sneered. “You’ll be hearing from Taggert on this one.”

  Tricia pushed forward, staring the soldier down. “Fine, Odom. And I’ll shove that complaint right back down the chain on top of your head, so bring it on.”

  Odom scoffed, shook his head, and turned away, taking his buddies with him.

  Randy turned to help the beaten woman up, but she’d vanished.

  Tricia bent down and picked up the crushed Twinkie pack, tossing it to one of the kitchen helpers. “Clean this up and put it back in the dessert tray.”

  “Thanks,” he said, but Tricia wordlessly returned to their table.

  It was only when they were all sitting down again that Tricia shook her head in disappointment. “Dumb move, brother.”

  “What was I supposed to do, let him beat the crap out of her?”

  “She decided to steal that food.” Tricia poked her finger at the table with every word. “She brought that on herself.”

  Randy shook his head with his own disappointment. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” He glanced at his sister, looking for support. “You’re saying soldiers can beat on anyone they want here?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes.” When Tricia saw his crestfallen expression, she looked away. “Look, it’s not something that would’ve flown a month ago, but the situation has changed. Like I said before, there’s got to be discipline, and that’s what Jergensen gives us. You can fight it all day long, but you’ll only get hurt, or worse. The scavenging teams are the most well-respected lot outside of the soldiers. If you guys continue to perform like you did today, there’s plenty of room for growth in the Colony.”

  While Randy heard what Tricia was saying, he just couldn’t bring himself to like it. At first, the Colony hadn’t seemed so bad, but it was getting worse every day. And with guys like Odom encouraged to assume authority over everyone, there was no telling where the next hit would come from.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve adjusted.” Randy sneered the words. “Must be nice.”

  Jenny placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “Quit while you’re ahead, brother.”

  Tricia ignored Jenny, her hazel eyes staring holes into him. Water formed around the rims of her eyes before her jaw tightened in defiance. “That’s what soldiers do. We adjust, and we take orders. We do what needs to be done, and we can’t always plant our feet on some moral high ground.”

  Randy wanted to come up with something smart to say, but his gut churned at the way Tricia looked at him. Her eyes weren’t warm, like before. When he didn’t reply, the corporal rose with her tray in hand and left the table.

  Cursing under his breath, Randy shook his head and picked around at the food on his plate.

  “Nice moves there, brother,” Jenny said with a dry tone.

  “You’re getting some kicks out of this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jenny paused. “And, no. You’re flirting with disaster, just like that song dad used to play. I can’t remember the band, though.”

  “Molly’s Hatchet, or something.” Randy nodded as he recalled the basic melody of the tune.

  They sat in silence for a few long moments, and Randy imagined the repercussions of protecting the woman who’d stolen a Twinkie. He didn’t know Taggert or what the punishment was for challenging a soldier. He just hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble, and he hoped Tricia and his sister weren’t in trouble, too.

  “You like her, don’t you?” Jenny asked
, softly.

  “Of course, I do,” Randy said, no longer ashamed to admit it. “She’s beautiful. She’s…incredible.”

  For once, Jenny had nothing witty to say. Instead, she gave his left arm a firm squeeze and dug back into her hash.

  Chapter 27

  Bishop Shields, Ft. Collins, Colorado

  Bishop hadn’t been able to rest since he’d found the dead bodies three houses down, and he couldn’t get their blood-soaked pillows out of his head.

  He stood in his usual spot in the master bedroom, staring outside as the sun came up over their quiet, dead neighborhood. His hands had stopped quivering a few hours ago, though his insides shook like an earthquake giving off low tremors.

  Bishop didn’t know if Francis was crazy, though no other explanation for his murderous actions came to mind. There was the possibility Francis thought his family was sicker than they really were, and he wanted to spare them some suffering. But the look in Francis’s eyes told him the man leaned toward being unhinged.

  The sun was a welcome sight, but their house felt less like a home and more like a tomb every minute. What could Bishop do about it? They weren’t ready for a lengthy trip anywhere, and they had no place to go, anyway. What if they left home and Kim showed up or sent a rescue team after them? Like getting lost in the woods, it was best to stay put.

  Bishop backed away from the window and sat on the bed. Over the past few days, he’d resisted pulling back the covers and climbing beneath the sheets, opting to sleep on top of the bedspread with a small throw cover over his upper body. He suspected it was because Kim’s shampoo scent would be all over the sheets, and he missed her too much. Or it was because he wanted to be ready to leap out of bed at a moment’s notice without getting tangled in the sheets.

  The sterile existence kept his heart hard and his nerves frosty.

  Falling onto the mattress, Bishop grabbed the throw cover and pulled it over him, allowing his eyes to shut for a few minutes. If he forgot how awful things were, maybe he’d actually fall asleep. Kim once told him that the trick to falling asleep was to imagine a comfortable memory and live within it.

  For the first time, he took her advice. His thoughts returned to their wedding reception when his wife had been on the dance floor with her sisters, doing some college move that had him chuckling and laughing. Though Kim was joking and carrying on like a fool, she was still beautiful. He watched every move she made as she dipped and turned and smiled. Bishop watched her until he drifted off into the dreamy moment.

  Boom, boom, boom!

  A knocking sound shook the recital hall. At first, no one noticed. But as the sound grew louder, and the walls shook, people on the dance floor stopped dancing and looked around in mild confusion.

  Boom, boom, boom!

  The walls shook harder, and parents began searching the crowd for their children. Kim’s father pulled her mother close, and Bishop saw his own parents on the other side of the hall. His mother watched him with a questioning look. Bishop strode out onto the dance floor where he’d last seen Kim with her sisters and cousins. He gently pushed people aside, aware he could knock a normal-sized person down without trying.

  Boom, boom, boom!

  Pieces of tile fell from the ceiling, and someone screamed. Eight-legged panic crawled up his spine, causing his blood to turn cold. By the time he’d reached the center of the dance floor, Kim was gone, and people in the hall were jostling and shouting to get out. Terrified fingers tickled his brain as the walls and floor continued to shake.

  “Kim!” He roared with raw emotion “Kim!”

  People staggered against him, though Bishop was like a boulder in the middle of a fast-flowing stream, anchored and unmovable. He swept people aside like they were gnats, head swiveling to find his wife. A woman rushed toward the exit in a wedding dress, and he worked his way in that direction.

  “Kim!” Bishop shouted after the woman, but the only reply he received was the hammering sounds in his head.

  Boom, boom, BOOM!

  “Dad?”

  His eyes flew open, and he bolted upright. While it was still light outside, the brightness had turned to a dismal gray, making it feel like it was much later in the day.

  He glanced at Riley standing in the doorway of his room, and the knocking came again.

  Bishop associated it with something heavy rapping against the downstairs brick. But it could also be someone banging against the wood they’d hammered up over the windows. The vestiges of the dream scattered as Bishop rose and crossed to the window. His heart was still beating like a jackhammer from the dream, though a new, more pressing fear replaced that one.

  “Riley, can you bring me your softball bat?”

  “Yeah. Hang on.”

  His daughter padded into her room and threw her sliding closet door open while Bishop looked for someone below. A moment later, Riley returned to the room and held out her aluminum softball bat.

  “Here you go,” she said. “Are you going outside?”

  “Maybe.”

  Bishop eased away from the window and took the bat from his daughter. He wasn’t sure what good it would do against a gun, but whoever it was would break their windows if someone didn’t stop him.

  Trevor showed up in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Hey guys, what the heck is going on? What’s all that pounding?”

  “Someone’s trying to cause us harm, kids,” Bishop replied, pushing through the doorway and into the hall. “And I need to stop them.”

  “Why would anyone cause us harm?” Trevor asked. “Is it Francis?”

  He stopped in the hallway and turned around. “I don’t know, son, but whoever it is might have a gun.”

  Riley’s face grew worried. “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.” When Bishop saw Riley didn’t understand, he tried to explain. “I walked around the neighborhood earlier and saw some things.”

  Riley remained firm. “Well, you’re not going out there, then.”

  “I have to, or they might break the windows and let in spores.”

  “No,” Riley said, grabbing his arm and holding him to the spot.

  Bishop placed his larger hand over his daughter’s and gently removed it. He looked back and forth between his kids. “We knew we might have to defend ourselves at some point. This is just one of those times.”

  Trevor nodded. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Take the radio and move from room to room,” Bishop said. “Look outside and notify me if you spot someone. I might be able to surprise them.”

  “Awesome idea, Dad. I’ve got the other radio right in my room.”

  “Great. Mine’s downstairs with my coveralls and mask. I’ll take it with me when I go outside, and we can stay in close contact, okay?”

  “No problem,” Trevor said with a confident nod.

  “Riley?”

  The girl had folded her arms across her chest, and she held her right foot forward, pressing the ball of her foot into the carpet. She didn’t like the idea.

  “There’s no other way around it, Riley,” Bishop said. He ended the conversation and hurried to the stairs, looking up as he descended them. “Help your brother look for them.”

  Down in the basement, Bishop donned his coveralls and stepped through their makeshift decontamination area to where his boots rested next to the basement door.

  The booming noises continued sporadically, and Bishop cocked his head to pinpoint the sound. He didn’t think they were banging on the basement windows or brick, but they might be up on the deck.

  He raised his radio and hit the talk button. “Son, can you get an angle on the deck?”

  “I’m trying,” Trevor returned. “But I’d have to stick my head out the window to see them.”

  “Don’t do that,” Bishop ordered. “Still, keep an eye out. I’m about to leave through the basement door and stand beneath the deck stairs. If we go at it, it will be sooner than later.”

  “Gotcha. Be careful.”


  Bishop put his boots on and laced them up. With the radio in one hand and the softball bat in the other, he unlocked the basement door and pulled it open quietly. He stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. The sounds of banging came from right above his head.

  They were definitely on the deck.

  Placing the radio back into his pocket, Bishop wrapped both hands around the softball bat handle and crept along the stone path that led to the deck stairs. As he approached the stairs, his radio crackled to life and Trevor said something.

  It wasn’t loud, though the person on the deck stopped hammering.

  Cursing himself for forgetting to turn the radio down, Bishop stepped to the edge of the deck and squatted with his weight shifted forward. When they came down the deck stairs, he was going to swing for the fences.

  There was silence for several long, painful moments followed by the sudden pounding of footsteps across the deck. Bishop cocked the bat back in preparation to strike when he realized the footsteps were moving in the opposite direction. Someone grunted as they flew over the rail and landed in the grass behind him. Bishop reeled in time to catch them running around the corner of the house.

  He took off after them but pulled up at the corner of the house in case they were waiting in ambush. The space between his house and the Smith’s was empty except for mold-covered bushes. He leaned his shoulder against the brick and willed his breathing to slow as he listened.

  Bishop dug his radio out of his pocket. “Son, did you see anyone?”

  “I saw them on the deck.” Trevor said. “When they heard you, they took off running around to the front, but I couldn’t get to your bedroom fast enough. They may have gone over to the Smiths.”

  Bishop nodded and looked around. Then he pushed himself off the wall and moved along the side of the house where he spotted some moldy grass trampled down like footprints in snow. He followed the trail over to the Smith’s driveway before he turned around and came back.

  “Well, I guess you’re good for something,” he said to the mold, thankful to confirm what his son said.