Catharsis: Outbreak Z: Books 1-4

by Roberts, EM

“Yeah,” he muttered.

  “You need to head to Yucca Mountain. Roe, Carly, Jax if he wants to, and Izzy will go with you. My father and I will stay here. We can’t leave everything we love, but you guys deserve a shot at a better future.” As hard as it was to say it, Ella knew it was the only plan that made sense.

  “But, Ella…” both Izzy and Parker began.

  “No. This is the way it has to be. Adams will not stop. He will follow us. We don’t the time to argue. As soon as we get to Taylor’s Creek, you guys will have to leave.” Ella would be surprised if Adams hadn’t already left to follow them. They probably had about an hour on Adams which meant they had to haul ass and pack quickly.

  The silence in the car became overwhelming. Ella had thought about it, and she knew her father would never leave the farm. He wouldn’t leave his wife’s grave. She couldn’t leave him, so they would stay and face whatever consequences came their way. The others needed to leave if they were to survive. She knew Adams would brand them all traitors. He would make them out to be the bad guys.

  About an hour later, her father pulled up to Pete’s bar. The silence in the car had been deafening. There was really nothing to say since all parties knew there was no alternative to the plan. Ella was glad to see another vehicle parked there, and assumed it was Roe. She hated the thought of telling Roe the plan because she knew Roe wouldn’t like it.

  Her father honked, and the door to the bar slowly opened, Roe’s face appearing. Ella and the rest of the group made their way inside. They didn’t even take time to sit. She quickly explained the plan to Roe, and made Roe promise to take care of Carly. Ella would keep the little girl, but she knew there was the likelihood she, herself, wouldn’t make it. She’d promised Carly’s mother she would make sure her daughter survived. This was the best way to fulfil that promise.

  “Ella, come with us. Make your father come with us,” Roe cried, tears streaking down her dusty face.

  “You know better than that. We talked about this before,” Ella smiled sadly. She would miss Roe. The woman had become her best friend and family. She didn’t think there was any female who’d ever known her better than Roe.

  They all made their way out to the farm. They would take two vehicles, very little clothing, and dry goods to eat. They loaded the cars as fast as they could. There was nothing more to be said. Ella’s heart ached with the loss of her friends, but they all realized their time together was over.

  Parker came to stand beside Ella. He reached down and held her hand, squeezing gently.

  “I’ll miss you Ella. You’re a good person, and so is your father. I’m sorry you’re not coming,” he whispered though his mangled lips. Even bruised and battered, Parker still had a regal bearing. He still looked like a president.

  “Parker, Parker, Parker,” Ella sighed. “You’re a good man. When I first met you, I thought you’d be different. We didn’t believe in the same things, but I found that doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve become a good friend, and I respect you as a person.”

  Ella leaned over and hugged him, careful to not cause him any pain. She’d taken precious moments to bind his ribs upon their arrival. She had to give it to the man. He’d withstood a savage beating and was still walking.

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. Then, he turned and walked to the car and away from Ella and her father.

  The next morning

  Ella looked through the binoculars at the scene below. She and her father were on a ridge high above the house. After Parker and the rest of the group had left, she and her father had packed some supplies, and headed to an old hunting cabin in the woods. She knew Adams and his entourage would come to the farm, first thing. They had, and they’d ransacked the place in the process. They’d killed the animals and loaded them onto a utility truck to take back to Kingsport or wherever it was they were going.

  They’d emptied the reserve gas her father kept at the farm, filling up each of their vehicles. In addition to that, they’d loaded up various supplies they’d taken from the house. The last thing the group did before leaving was to burn the house to the ground. Ella and Theo had stood and cried as they watched the home go up in flames, and Ella couldn’t help but blame herself.

  If she’d just done as Adams had ordered, her father would still have his home. Roe, Calry, and Izzy would be there to take care of him. She’d been selfish, and there was no way to undo what had just happened. Would it have been so bad to serve in the military under Adams and killed the creatures in the process?

  “Don’t blame yerself. I don’t blame ya. I didn’t want ya serving under that man. Sometimes, ya can jest tell the bad from the good. I could tell jest by looking at him he was bad. Maybe that’s un-Christian of me,” her father said, coming up behind her and staring at the flames and smoke.

  “No, dad. It’s not. You’re the best Christian I know. I wish I had your faith in God. I love you,” Ella broke down and stepped into her father’s open arms.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what her father was thinking. All of his life’s work had gone up in flames a matter of hours. The house held fifty years of memories. He’d brought his wife there as a young bride. They’d made and raised two children in the house. All of it would be ashes the next day.

  They waited two days before the two made their way down to the smoldering ruins of the main house. She hoped Adams wouldn’t return and had given him two days. She imagined he’d think she and her father had left with Parker. That was the plan.

  “We’re strong and tough. We can do this. We can start over. It won’t be as grand as Big Blue, though,” her father smiled, referring to the big blue house.

  “Well, you think you can live in an RV?” Ella asked.

  “Ya know, I think I can—that is if ya can put up with an old man’s snorin’?,” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  Two weeks later

  Ella sat in the lookout tower. Fortunately, it’d been spared by the marauding Adams and company. The only thing that had been burned had been the house. It was devastating, of course, but it could have been so much worse. There was still the RV, the outbuildings, and the barn. Most of the animals were gone with the exception of a chicken or two. The first week after the episode had been spent gathering supplies and ammunition.

  She’d returned to Taylor’s Creek and methodically went house to house in search of dry goods and firearms. In a small southern country town, the ammunition was plentiful. She was glad she hadn’t done this immediately after the outbreaks, or she and her father would be in dire straits right now. Instead, she’d relied on stores and other businesses and left individual homes for a last resort. She and her father had built a nice little stockpile of weapons and food from their foraging. They’d also stocked the cabin in the woods just in case any of the military returned.

  They’d repaired the fence and the gate, and one of them kept watch at all times. It was a sad and sorry way to live, but at least they were together. They’d seen no sign of Adams, and Ella was sure he was off on Parker’s trail. Both she and her father prayed every night for Parker and the group’s survival. She didn’t know if her prayers were doing any good, but she was sure her father’s were.

  She couldn’t help but think of her missing friends. How were they surviving? Would Izzy remember how to siphon gas when they needed it? Would Roe calm Carly when she had a nightmare? Why was she even asking these questions? She knew both Roe and Carly would remember everything she’d taught them. She had faith in them.

  She made her way down from the tower and walked over to the RV. She let herself in and was surprised to see her father still in bed. She walked over and smiled down at him. He looked so peaceful. She would just let him sleep in. It had been a tough two weeks, and sometimes she forgot he was an old man. Just as she turned to leave, she realized something—her father wasn’t snoring. He always snored. In fact, he’d kept her awake many times with his snoring.

  She turned around and looked at his chest. It wasn’t moving. She rea
ched down and grabbed his wrist. She didn’t feel a pulse. With a sickening feeling in her stomach, she felt at his throat. Nothing. She laid her head on his chest—still nothing.

  “Oh my God!” she cried as she fell to her knees.

  She pinched her father’s nose and blew into his mouth. She pumped his chest cavity with precise compression and repeated the process. She did this for five minutes. She listened to his heart—nothing.

  She tried the process again for five more minutes---she felt so helpless. Again, she listened. Nothing.

  The pain in her throat and in her heart was so overwhelming she couldn’t breathe. She sat on the floor of the RV, holding her father’s hand and crying for the rest of the day. She didn’t eat, drink, or sleep. She just held his hand and cried. She didn’t care if Adams showed up of not. The pain was so intense she didn’t care if she lived or died.

  The next morning, in a daze, she dressed her father in his overalls, a flannel shirt, and his University of Tennessee ball cap. She went outside to the barn and built a rough coffin out of wood scraps. There was no way she would just put her bodies father in the ground without some sort of final resting place. She lined it with one of her mother’s old blankets, all the while tears streaming down her face. It was the hardest chore she’d ever had to do. She thought it might be harder than the day she’d had to kill her mother. At least then, she’d had her father by her side. Now, she was alone with her grief, and it consumed her.

  She used a cart from the barn to transport her father back to the graveyard where her mother was buried. She’d dug the grave early the same morning while the dew was on the ground. Somehow, she managed to get his body into the coffin and grave. She kissed his cheek and closed the coffin’s lid.

  She filled in the grave, flinching each time the dirt hit the coffin. When she was finished, she stood back and recited the Lord’s Prayer. She also sang Amazing Grace because she knew it was her father’s favorite hymn. It was a pitiful performance with her voice cracking, but she knew her father would say it was perfect. With a sore and heavy heart, she returned to the RV and fell asleep exhausted, uncaring of anything and anyone.

  The next morning she awoke, the ache n her heart and throat just as strong as it’d been that first day. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to live without the man who’d been in her life for so long. She felt alone and confused. Used to being strong and in control, she felt as helpless as a small child.

  She used the better part of the day fashioning a stone to mark her father’s grave. It was a tedious process, but slowly chiseled his name, date of birth, and the day he died into the rock. She placed it at the head of the freshly dug grave. She stood there for a moment and then she spoke:

  “I don’t know what to do without you. I’ve never felt so alone or in so much pain. I hope you’re with mother and you’re rejoicing at seeing her again. I love you, daddy.” Ella stood, tears once again streaming down her face. She couldn’t seem to stop crying. She didn’t know how a person could have so many tears.

  After the little ceremony, she made her way to the lookout tower and sat unseeingly inside for several hours until her body could no longer stay awake. She thought about just sleeping there but realized her body would pay for it the next day. Wearily, she made her way back to the RV. She hadn’t eaten in two days. There would be time for that tomorrow.

  The third morning she felt somewhat better, and she thought it was probably due to the dream she’d had. She’d been in a field of grass and when she looked up, her father and mother were walking hand in hand toward her. They’d both had smiles of love and joy on their faces. And, just like that, they’d vanished into a burst of sunlight. She’d awakened feeling a peace that hadn’t been there before.

  She’d never really believed in ghosts or spirits, but the dream almost seemed to be her father’s way of letting her know he was happy. At least, she hoped that was what it was. She had to be thankful; he’d lived a long life, and he’d died in his sleep with a smile on his face. He hadn’t been taken by the virus or one of the infected. She knew that was something to be thankful for. It was just that she’d never truly accepted his eventual death. She supposed many children avoided thinking about such things in relation to parents. She’d been lucky to have him for as long as she had.

  She packed a meager bag with a couple of changes of clothes, some beef jerky, and a few canned goods. She packed a large duffel with weapons and ammunition. She’d need that more than the food. She was glad she’d retrieved the envelope Parker had hidden for her before Adams had torched the house. Now, she knew exactly where to go. She knew her father wouldn’t mind that she was leaving the farm. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel guilty about it. Her father and mother were together now, and it was time she made her own way. She wrote a letter and posted it on the gate. She knew there was probably no chance Eli had survived, but this new world had taught her to expect the unexpected.

  She jumped into her trusty old blue truck. It’d been hidden in the woods as well when Adams and his marauders had burned the farm. It had a full tank of gas and would take her far enough to get more, she hoped. As she started to back up, she noticed the package from her brother in the back seat.

  She stopped and tore into it. It wasn’t a fancy present as she’d expected. In fact, it was an ordinary blue three ring binder. On the first page was a letter addressed to Ella.

  Dear Sister,

  I don’t know if this package will reach you, but I hope it does. And, I hope you will forgive my part in this catastrophe. I’ve been busy making a vaccine to aid third world countries in the spread of aids. This has been my mission since taking the job here. The vaccine didn’t work as planned, though. Instead, it turned into something far worse. About six months ago, the lab was broken into and the vaccine stolen. I didn’t really think anything of it because of its disastrous side effects. Who would want to release that on the world?

  The government approached me and told me they’d learned my work had been stolen by a terrorist group whose plan was to release it into the atmosphere. I have worked tirelessly the last six months for an antiserum that will hopefully provide an immunity to the original virus. It is much like the flu in the fact that it will return over and over again in varying strains. The new vaccine will cut down on this. This binder contains copies of all my research just in case something happens to me.

  I am sorry I played any part in this. I truly do love you, just as I love father and mother.

  Your brother,

  Eli.

  Ella leaned back in the truck. She felt a little sick. All of this had happened from something her brother had created in his attempts to help others. It was so bizarre. She would hold onto the binder and protect it with her life. It may be their only way to stop the disease from returning.

  She started the truck and rolled down the lane leading away from the farm. She looked over her shoulder and smiled one last time.

  The End – Book Two

  Catharsis: The Journey

  Book Three

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: A Man Burdened

  Chapter 1: Baby on Board

  Chapter 2: Angel in Disguise

  Chapter 3: Tyranny or Democracy?

  Chapter 4: Bartering Time

  Chapter 5: Second in Command

  Chapter 6: Hope

  Chapter 7: A Voice in the Distance

  Chapter 8: Breadcrumbs

  Chapter 9: Fight or Flight?

  Chapter 10: No More Mr. Nice Guy

  Prologue: A Man Burdened

  The sickle sliced through the air and decapitated two of the creatures in one go. There was no blood as the creatures’ physiology had long since turned their blood into a congealed grayish substance. The heads hit the packed earth and bounced like semi-inflated basketballs. Two more heads landed in much the same manner.

  The man was a literal Goliath. He’d often been told by the townspeople he reminded them of a famous actor in a St
ephen King movie, only he was younger. He stood 6’8” in his bare feet, and weighed around 300 pounds. He wasn’t a heavy man. All of the meat on his bones was pure muscle from working the farm. His ebony skin constantly sported a sheen of sweat because he was always busy.

  Amos King looked around. He would not have it. These creatures were not allowed to be here. The only way to protect his mammaw’s grave and farm was to kill them. And, he hated killing. But, he’d do it for her. He’d do anything for his mammaw. When he’d been abandoned by his whore of a mother, his mammaw had taken him, loved him, and cared for him. When the kids at school had laughed at him and called him “retard”, it’d been his mammaw who’d dried his tears and held his hand. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

  He could only count to ten and there were more creatures than that walking in the field. He’d killed that many before, and he could do it again. He didn’t have a gun because his mammaw was afraid he’d hurt himself, so he’d made his own weapon. He’d found the sickle in the barn, a tool from his grandpa’s days. He’d used the whetstone to sharpen it until it could slice the whisker off a screeching cat. With his strength, it’d become a weapon—his weapon. As he moved through the field slicing heads from bodies, he had to admit he was becoming used to the killing.

  He’d also found he didn’t necessarily need the sickle. The creatures were so fragile, sometimes he just ripped their heads off. But, when there was more than one, he used the sickle as much as possible. He didn’t think of them as people anymore. At first, he’d balked at killing them because they looked like people. Soon he realized if he didn’t, he would become one of them. He’d seen it happen once or twice in town when he’d ventured there for supplies.

  To his way of thinking, this was the third season since the bad thing had happened. He’d made it through winter, spring planting, and summer. And, he was proud because he’d taken care of himself. His mammaw had gotten sick and died from the disease. On her deathbed, she’d made Amos promise to stay on the farm. She was afraid he would wander off and get hurt. So, he’d stayed, protected her grave and the farm. She’d told him, someday an angel would come and take him away, and that it would be okay to go. He was waiting for that day.