The Scourge (Book 1): The Dead Don't Turn

by Maxey, Phil

  CONTENTS

  Title page

  Copyright

  Disclaimer

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Thank you

  THE DEAD DON’T TURN

  The Scourge Book 1

  by

  Phil Maxey

  Copyright © 2018 by Philip Maxey

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Printing, 2018.

  http://philmaxeyauthor.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is purely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Joel Garret moved his hands towards the small fire that was burning on the gas station floor.

  “Yeah, get some of that warmth in you, with the smoke that’s building up, we’ll need to put it out soon,” said the man opposite him. The man then frowned. “And we can’t risk any of them knowing where we are. I want a good night’s rest this time.”

  Joel nodded, his friend was right. He didn’t want to run into any more of the things that roamed the streets and homes after the sun went down.

  Hungry.

  “Tell me more about Jessica?” said Joel. He knew Russell liked talking about his family and he needed the distraction. Russell was convinced they could still be out there, and he and Russell had been traveling east from LA for the last few weeks, on a route which he said his wife and daughter had ‘travelled before.’

  Russell looked thoughtful. “Well, she loves dragons. She’s always drawing them. Big bold purple dragons. On everything! Her bedroom wall, her lunchbox…” They both laughed. “She was—” He momentarily looked confused. “I mean, she’s a good kid.”

  There was a moment of silence, before Russell offered Joel a candy bar.

  Joel shook his head. “I’m good thanks.”

  “Do you regret not having any? I mean, seeing how everything’s gone to shit over the past few months.”

  Bloody images ran through Joel’s mind, but then he reclaimed his brain. “As long as there’re women in the world there’s still a chance, right?”

  Need to eat.

  Joel wiped his hand across his brow. His skin was getting warmer.

  “You okay, buddy?” Russell looked concerned.

  “Yeah, just tired.”

  “You and me both.” Russell looked at the heap of burning wood enclosed in a small metal canister. “Think it’s time to put this fire out.” He pulled out some of the burning pieces of wood, stamping on each one, extinguishing the flames, then placed a sheet of metal over the canister putting out the others. The gas station room plunged into darkness and thick white smoke bellowed into the air through small gaps around the metal cylinder.

  Russell fumbled around in his backpack for his flashlight, on finding it he switched it on, and pointed it at an empty spot where Joel was just sitting.

  “Joel? Where are you?”

  Joel staggered into the restroom and closed and locked the door behind him. He pulled his own flashlight from his jacket and switched it on. “Need a leak!” he shouted back through the stained door, with messages scrawled on it to contact a Ruby if the need arises.

  He walked over to the water taps and tried to swallow. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and the distant drum of his heartbeat was building in his chest.

  He fell against the basin and lifted his heavy head towards the grime-laden cracked mirror. His bloodshot eyes looked upon a man he hardly recognized, with his beard, and small scars across his cheeks and forehead.

  “Servare Vitas… Servare Vitas…”

  He placed the flashlight on the counter, and spun the tap on the rusty faucet, which chugged, then spat out orange water. Cupping his hand beneath the stream he threw the cool liquid on his face.

  I can’t do this. He’s a good man…

  His grip tightened on the stained porcelain, as the pain surging through his body increased.

  Have to resist…

  He looked back up at his reflection. Blue veins across his face started to throb.

  “No!”

  A bang came at the restroom door. “You alright in there?”

  Each impact on the frail wooden frame boomed in Joel’s mind.

  “I’m going to get some rest, you should too, buddy,” said Russell.

  Joel’s eyes inevitably began to turn black, but he fought against it anyway.

  I won’t do this…

  He pushed himself backwards against the broken tiles, some of which tumbled to the floor. He pleaded with the hunger inside him to stay dormant.

  I… I…

  Russell Hopkins raised his hand to hit the door again, but before it could land, the only obstruction between him and death exploded into splinters knocking him back against the oil-stained floor. As he tried to recover, a shadowy figure descended upon him, its jaws clamping down upon his neck. As his life ebbed away, his last thoughts were of his wife and daughter.

  Joel dropped the lifeless body of his friend to the gas station floor and wiped the blood from his lips. As the hunger receded, guilt took its place.

  What have I done…

  *****

  The sun streamed in through the glass of a third-floor balcony door, making the blonde hair of the slim woman making breakfast even more luminescent. She dropped a half burnt waffle on a plate and swore, sticking her finger into her mouth to cool it down.

  Joel emerged from the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his lower half.

  “We have to pick Dan up in thirty minutes!” said the woman.

  He walked over to his wife, ignored the charcoal breakfast and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to him. Tarin giggled, trying to push him away.

  “We’ve done enough of that until our next romantic getaway, now…” She looked down at her attempt at breakfast. “Maybe we can pick up some—” She noticed he wasn’t listening to her. She knew the look. “—What is it?”

  He stepped back, tilting his head towards the outside glass door. “You hear that?”

  “Hear what?” She picked up the waffle and let it slide into the plastic trash can. “Get ready! We have to leave in ten minutes!” She shook her head at him. “It’s probably seagulls.”

  “Hmm, thought I heard something.” He let the towel drop to the hardwood floor. “I got this! I’ll go in naked, and come out ready to go, five minutes tops!”

  Tarin waved at him to move faster.

  Grabbing the towel, he walked into the bedroom, stepping over the wine bottl
es and lingerie, and pulled the suitcase up onto the bed and flipped it open.

  Only green…

  Usually, his wife brought his favorite color underwear on their twice-yearly ‘excursions’ but this time, for some reason, they were green. He sighed then stepped into them. The same noise he heard a few moments before echoed out in the distance. He frowned.

  “What the hell is that?” he said under his breath, as he wandered over to where the early morning sun was seeping into the room. Pulling the drapes back he lifted the latch and pushed the window open. He looked out to the masts of luxury yachts and at gliding graceful birds, wings outstretched surfing the warm sea breeze.

  He sighed. “Seagulls.”

  He went to pull the window closed when a high-pitch screech filled the air.

  That’s human.

  He pushed the window further open and tried to ascertain from where the piercing noise had just come from.

  Maybe the floor below?

  “What you doing in there? We have to leave!” shouted Tarin from the other room.

  “Hold on,” he shouted in reply. He quickly climbed into his pants, threw a shirt over his bare, toned chest, and pushed his feet into his sneakers.

  He walked into the kitchen area, walking past Tarin and towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Just gotta check something out downstairs, there’s something going on.”

  Tarin rolled her eyes. “Technically, we’re still on vacation. Can you not be HRT for ten minutes more?”

  Joel held his hand up, while walking backwards. “Servare Vitas.”

  Tarin rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll go down, take a look, it will be nothing and I’ll come right back, then we can leave, okay?”

  “Fine. But your parents won’t be happy if we show up late.” She looked around the mess across the living room floor. “I should probably clear some of this up before we leave.”

  He stepped out into the hallway, closing the hotel room door quietly behind him. He was already listening for out-of-place sounds but there weren’t any. The carpeted corridor was as silent as a graveyard.

  Where are the cleaners?

  He quickly walked to the stairwell and descended, coming out onto the floor below. It was as silent as the one above.

  He walked forward, listening close to the doors as he went, then realized one of them ahead was open as the sunlight was forming a bright spot on the wall opposite the room. He continued walking but slowed up as a noise coming from inside started to distract him.

  What the fuck is that?

  What sounded like something being repeatedly plunged into wet mud emanated from the doorway. With it came a strong metallic smell. He immediately felt his side for his gun, then remembered it was still upstairs. He knew the smell, everyone in law enforcement did.

  He looked about him for something to use as a weapon. The only thing vaguely useful was a vase on a small table, which he grabbed. He slowly walked forward until he could see into the room.

  Red.

  At first, he thought the room had been decorated completely in a deep crimson, then he saw it. A person on the floor, in the middle of a pool of blood gnawing on a human leg.

  “What the…”

  The man on the ground seemed uninterested in his audience.

  Joel went to pull the hotel room door closed, keeping the man inside, when all around him screams erupted.

  He instinctively ducked, looking at the closed doors around him.

  What the fuck is going on.

  Ignoring the scene in front of him, he ran back along the corridor and into the stairwell, immediately stopping. The walls were now covered in smears of blood. His mind tried to grapple with what he was seeing, but his instincts drove him forward, up the steps and back onto his own floor. As he ran forward, some of the doors were open. He glanced inside some of them, glimpsing other scenes of carnage, each one sending his mind further from reality. Eventually, he made it to his own room. The door was already open.

  “Tarin!” he shouted as he ran inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to his wife sitting on the sofa, a man sat close next to her, so he could just see the top of her face.

  A rasping noise wafted towards him with that familiar smell. “Joel…”

  He ran forward, grabbing the man by his shoulder, and went to pull him back, when he saw what was left of his wife. As his world froze, the man turned to him, his eyes as black as coal.

  Joel awoke screaming on the floor of the gas station, with the gray blue body of his friend laying next to him. His mouth felt like sandpaper, but he felt strong. He got to his feet avoiding looking at the dead thing next to him, and staggered back into the restroom, not needing to open the door for it laid on the oil-soaked floor in pieces.

  The beam from his flashlight was hardly visible, but he didn’t need it. Walking to the basin, he also avoided looking into the mirror and flicked at the tap. Being turned on for hours, what little putrid water was left in the tank, had long since run away. He sighed, then walked back into the large workshop with walls of tool racks, and a blue sedan lying in bits on the shop floor.

  Outside, it was the dead of night, and he knew that was not the best time to travel, but he couldn’t be there any longer. He needed to leave. He grabbed his friend’s backpack and with his own lifted them onto his back. He hardly felt the weight.

  Don’t have to pretend anymore.

  The sentiment made him feel sick. He would have rather had his friend still alive.

  He took one step towards the rear entrance and stopped looking back at the man on the floor.

  He won’t turn. They don’t turn when they’re already dead.

  He stepped outside into the cool desert night air and looked up at the countless stars. He needed to know they were still there. That not everything had died.

  Taking the keys from his jacket pocket, he opened the trunk of the car they had been traveling in and dropped Russell’s pack into it. He looked down at his supplies, including a blood-stained suitcase with a set of handcuffs hanging from it, then closed the trunk quietly. He got in the driver’s side, sweeping away the beer bottles on the passenger seat, and placed his own backpack on top of it. He sighed.

  No need to feed for a few more days.

  He turned the key in the ignition then pulled onto the highway.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A woman with rich dark hair, ducked down below the dashboard of the 1980s truck, and with her pocket knife cut the plastic off a tangle of wires. A young girl bounced her knee up and down next to her.

  “Quit, I need to think.”

  The girl’s leg stopped moving. She anxiously looked out at the large dusty parking lot and the desert lost in the haze beyond. “But what if they come.”

  The woman continued slicing and twisting. “They usually don't in the daylight, you know that. And—” She briefly poked her head above the wall of wood and plastic and looked around the truck. “— We're in the middle of nowhere anyway.” Her eyes and fingers returned to the dark footwell beneath the steering wheel.

  “Yes, but, we—”

  The woman sat up quickly. “Jess! I can't think if you're going to be—” The woman caught sight of two men walking towards them at the other end of the lot. “Shit.”

  “They’re coming!”

  The woman quickly ducked back down, desperately trying to twist different combinations of copper and silver together. “This always works in the TV shows. Why’s it not working!”

  “Mom!”

  She looked back up. She could now see the eyes of both men, and the stained coats and jackets they were wearing. She turned to her daughter. “Maybe they’re just men who want to talk.” She pulled the Glock handgun from her pants. “Lock all the doors when I go outside—”

  Her daughter grabbed hold of her arm, hugging it to her. “No, don’t leave.”

  She unwrapped her daughter’s fingers from her arm and pulled the latch t
o open the driver’s door. “Lock the doors! In the backpack is the other gun. You know how to use it. If… things go bad, do what we discussed. Okay?” She briefly held her daughter’s shoulders. “Be strong.”

  Jess nodded, although her mother couldn’t tell if it was her agreeing or trembling.

  The woman looked at the two men who were now only twenty feet away, then climbed out and closed the door behind her, indicating to her daughter to lock the doors, which she did.

  She then turned to the men.

  Don’t be scourge.

  She raised her gun, pointing it at the chest of the older man. Both men stopped and smiled at each other.

  “No further, or I’ll shoot.”

  They both stood, silently watching her.

  In her mind she ran through the scenarios of what might happen next, none of which left her walking away alive.

  I didn’t survive the end of the world to die by the hands of these assholes.

  “Start talking or I start shooting, and I’m a pretty good—”

  “Just thought we’d say ‘hi,’” said the older man with missing front teeth. The younger man giggled.

  “Yeah, well you said it, now be on your way.”

  “I’m Jasper, this is Owen. Say hello to the nice lady, Owen.”

  “Hello.” The younger man giggled again. The first time was creepy enough thought the woman.

  “And you are?” said Jasper.

  “You don’t need to know my name. Now fuck off, before I put a hole in you.”

  Jasper held his hands up. “Whoah, there. Is that any way to treat what could be the last human males left alive?”

  Yeah, you two would be the last two men left alive. Just my luck.

  “Why don’t you be a polite lady and tell us your name.”

  The woman sighed. “It’s Marina. Now be on your way. Last—” Marina spotted the shadow across her at the same time as her daughter screamed, but it made no difference. Her world still went black.