Now, in case you were wondering where here was, let me explain. Go to the spot where Moses lost his sandals. Take a hard left and keep walking until you are three miles from the middle of nowhere. Turn right and keep doing summersaults until you are completely dizzy and hopelessly lost. We were right around the corner from there.
But we were still in Wisconsin, so there was that.
Honestly, it didn’t matter to me where we were. I needed to find one spot on the map. The name of the town I had left so long ago, and the last place I knew where to find my family, and my little Katie.
Hollandale.
I barely had the spot picked out on the map before we were back on the road, speeding toward my family. Jeff and Tanya took turns with the map, keeping us on track while avoiding large areas of population.
Clouds finally started to break up, sending shafts of sunlight pouring to Earth in wide golden beams. Rainwater sent into the air in a fine mist bent the light into tiny shimmering rainbows as the moisture settled back to the ground behind us.
I rolled down the window and let the cool spring wind blow into my face. The scent of fresh rain and vegetation returning to life after a long winters nap set my nerves at ease. Even the sour stench of death that permeated everything seemed to have lost its punch, despite the groups of undead we skirted around through the devastated landscape.
“I have to ask,” Tanya said, breaking me from my serenity. “Why chicken? I mean, did you actually plan to use chicken bones to escape.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” I answered honestly as I slowed to avoid another pile up of wrecked cars pushed aside on the two lane road. I scanned the area for walking coffin stuffers, my finger on the window button in case I needed to close it in a hurry. “But I knew it was a bad idea the second it popped into my head.”
“What did you stab Larry with?” Jeff asked.
“When I heard the generator go dead, I tried to come up with some way to use it to my advantage. I don’t know if it was the drug or my own crazy brain, but the only thing that came to mind was a piece of—” I stopped mid-sentence as I realized what I was about to say. Yes, the thing I had killed was a zombie, but before that, he was also their friend.
“It was a piece of Will’s skull,” I said apologetically. “He was your friend, I’m sorry I had to kill him the way I did.”
“He stopped being Will when that man killed him,” Tanya said, turning her view to the outside.
“The LSD made me see him move so many times throughout the night, that’s why I kept attacking him. But the last time I was sort of in my right mind. I thought if anyone was still watching, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for me to do it again. I took a piece of his skull and slipped it into my pocket. A lot of things just fell into place and I took a chance.”
“I’m glad you did,” Jeff said, his voice monotone. “Will would be happy he could help us, no matter how he did it.”
“Yeah, he would,” Tanya agreed in a hushed voice, nodding as she lost herself in the landscape.
The mood in the car had noticeably darkened. Despite what I had gone through in that prison cell, I never had to watch my friends get mutilated at the hands of that madman. The thought of watching Matt or Joe go through the same turned my stomach. In spite of the happiness the two must feel at finally being freed, there would be years of sleepless nights filled with memories of their time in hell.
“Dan,” Jeff said, his voice more upbeat than it was mere seconds ago. “Just thought you would like to know. Turn right here. Hollandale is less than a mile away!”
I wanted to leap out of my seat. I was almost home. Sure it wasn’t my real home, but I had finally come to realize what the old saying, Home is where the heart is, really meant. Home was my family, and my friends. Home was Katie in my lap as I read her bedtime stories or playing outside on a beautiful spring day.
The sun was well into its late afternoon trek to the horizon as I turned off onto the road I had left on months before. That same stupid grin poking out behind my thick beard met me in my rear view mirror. Tanya held Jeff, her warm friendly smile stretching across her face until it appeared as if it would split in two. Her eyes glistened as wetness pooled in the corners.
“You’re home,” she said, her voice catching as tears of joy fled down her cheeks. Even Jeff was forced to wipe away the mist as he tried his best to focus on the road in front of us.
“I hope,” I replied as hot tears blurred my vision. I was struck with so many mixed feelings I could barely contain them. Sorrow for lost friends, regret for how I had left, happiness at the idea that in mere moments I might be holding my daughter again. But lurking in the deepest recesses of my mind lurked the ever present fear that my family had moved on after so much time, and I would never be able to find them again.
We rounded a curve, and tendrils of fear began creeping its way through me. Panic wormed its way into my mind as I scanned the buildings and streets around us.
Something was wrong.
My knuckles whitened as my grip on the wheel tightened as we approached the area I knew the bus should be. I should have been able to see the top of the two story building, but it wasn’t there.
Turning the corner, a site that will be burned into the darkest recesses of my mind came into full horrifying view. I rolled to a stop, my head spun as my breathing raced toward hyperventilation.
The twisted skeletal wreckage of the bus stretched across the street, its side smashed inward as if it had been rammed by another vehicle. The hulking wreckage had been burned to the frame, the flames had been so intense the tires were nearly melted to the pavement.
The building where my family had sought shelter was burnt to near nothing. A lone wall still remained like a monument of the building that once stood there, soot reaching up like dark tendrils on the red brick. Twisted steel and blackened debris filled the depression of where the interior should have been.
A sharp crack on the squad radio almost sent me flying through the roof. Slimy cold terror embraced me as a voice that I could not possibly be hearing sang over the police radio.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
From glen to glen and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling.
It's you, It's you, must go, and I must bide
Hello Mr. Foster! How wonderful it is that you are out in the world again! That was an incredible display of resourcefulness on your part, using William’s bones like that. As soon as I saw you break it off, I knew that our game was about to begin.
I must thank you for taking care of that little problem for me. Lawrence had become too unstable for my liking. His usefulness to me was at an end. I did hope that Robert could have been trained to behave, but Lawrence proved to be far too influential on the young man. It is a loss, but it was necessary.
I know you must have a multitude of questions for me. How did I know your plans? That was simple. I had the generators shut off to see what you would do when you believed you were unsupervised. You don’t think I wouldn’t have had back up power for my cameras, did you Mr. Foster? I was mere blocks away, watching everything unfold by remote.
You see, I made you a promise when we first met. You would not leave that cell until I wanted you to, and that is exactly what has happened. I am no longer contained in the darkness to do my work in hiding. The world has opened up for me, and you have become my favorite new project.
I suppose you are also wondering how I am speaking to you from the dead. Well, this is truly where our game will begin Mr. Foster. As I said, I now know you fear that you will become a monster, like me. I wasn’t sure if you would walk into that room not, so it was a bit of a gamble on my part, and it was one that paid off.
You didn’t bother to check if the man was bound or gagged, nor did you see his hair had been dyed. Instead, you leveled off your pistol and pulled the trigger without a second of hesitation. You see, Mr. Crass wasn’t one of mine. He w
as just like you, a scared prisoner trying to figure out how his life had taken such an unfortunate turn. Mr. Foster, you killed an innocent man.
And now I must be off, there’s so much work to do. Enjoy your reunion with your family, Daniel. I promise, it will be an event to remember. I will see you again…soon.
The radio went silent, leaving the cabin deathly quiet. My body had gone completely numb. I’d killed an innocent man. Professor made me kill an innocent man. And to make matters worse, he knew exactly when to contact me to tell me about it.
Someone was watching and waiting for us to arrive.
I planted the accelerator to the floor, pressing the shocked pair into their seats as the squad rocketed toward the bus. Within seconds I was jamming the brakes, skidding to a stop within inches of the twisted steel remains.
I leapt out, almost forgetting to set the gear to park before my feet hit the asphalt. I flipped the back door open to let the other two out, and hauled ass away. I flew into the wreckage, flying up the few steps until my feet hit the top step.
A blackened skull stared back at me through eyeless sockets, its jaw hanging open in a silent scream. The tall skeleton sat upright, it’s scorched hands still clinging to the molten plastic steering wheel. A burnt leather holster hung from a wide belt from its ash covered hip bone, a soot stained Desert Eagle pistol stuffed within.
“J…Joe?” I exhaled through building tears.
Slowly turning my head, terrified of what else I would find in the wreckage of our rolling fortress, I scanned the entirety of the inside. The destruction was absolute, nothing remained of our armored bus but twisted metal and melted plastic.
“Dan?” Jeff asked with a hint of apprehension. “How many people were in your group?”
“Why?”
“It’s important,” was all he answered.
“There’s Katie, Chris, Anna, Faith, Matt, Joe, Rosa, Lexi, and Jane. So nine.”
“Is he one of them?” Jeff asked.
“I…I think it’s Joe,” I forced out through my building grief.
“Dan, you need to come outside.”
I spun around to face him, finding that he had already retreated from the bus. There was something in the tone of his voice that filled me with terrible dread. With near paralyzing fear, I launched myself back down the steps, finding the two standing beside the Interceptor.
Jeff glanced at me before he wrapped his arms around his wife. Tanya stared across the road, tears visibly flowing from her eyes in thick streams.
“There’s eight,” Tanya said, her voice trembling.
I narrowed my eyes and cast them to where the two were looking. The early evening light set the grounds ablaze in vibrant colors. Brilliant green grass stretched out across the field beyond the parking lot, purple and red wildflowers adding hues of springtime colors as far as I could see.
Just beyond the parking lot, tucked away in a semi-circle of recently cut grass, I could see several piles of dirt laid out in rows, each pile tamped down to shape them into perfect rounded mounds.
Eight perfectly rounded mounds of dirt.
“No,” I gasped, shaking my head as acidic tears burned the corners of my eyes and flowed down my wildly bearded face. My feet were moving before I could will them to run.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I chanted as wind whipped past my face. My heart thundered in my chest, blood rushed through my ears as I drew nearer to what my mind would not accept. My lungs burned with every breath, my throat threatening to close as I swallowed.
My world slowed to a virtual standstill, my feet feeling as they were cast in lead with each step. Legs burned as muscles worked against gravity to propel me faster toward the horror laying I front of me. With every inch, the mounds grew closer, the precision in which the dirt had been packed became more evident.
I slowed to a stop, falling to my knees on the parking lot pavement as tiny rocks dug into the soft areas of my knee. My lungs froze in spite of my body’s demand for more oxygen. I ran my fingers through the sweat soaked hair on my head, counting each mound, each grave, over and over again. No matter how many times I counted, the number was always the same.
There were eight graves. Five large and wide enough for adults...three, just as wide, but half as long.
I found my family.
“Ka…Ka…K—” I stammered as the full realization came crushing down on me.
I screamed, beating my fists on the pavement until blood flowed from my hands. The eye shaped scar on the back of my hand opened up as small rocks scraped across my skin and dug into my flesh.
“No!” I screamed as Tanya touched my shoulder, swatting her hand away.
I scrambled to my feet, and raced back to the squad. The last fragments of who I was fell away, the final bits of my sanity flaking away like a dry scab.
Ripping the mic from its base radio, I squeezed the key until the plastic crackled under the pressure. An electronic pop sounded over the speaker, letting me know I was broadcasting live.
“Professor!” I screamed my throat raw. “I’m coming for you! You hear me mother fucker! I’m coming for you! Do! You! Hear! Me?!” I took a deep breath, screaming until my voice could no longer sustain volume.
“Professor!”
Epilogue 1
“Kyle,” Professor spoke into the police radio. “Well done, the mobile repeaters worked wonderfully. Daniel has been reunited with his family. Your work is complete. Wrap up what you are doing and return home.”
“Yes sir,” a disembodied voice crackled through the radio.
Professor let the mic fall into the comfortable leather seat of the police captain’s cruiser, leaning back into the chair with deep-seated satisfaction. He stared at the creature writhing against the iron restraints that had been hammered into the stone silo.
“Professor,” a young man panted as he ran up to the car. “I apologize for the interruption, but do you want us to do something about that creature?”
He smiled, amused at the skittish young man who had recently come into his fold. One of the few that survived the treatment with most of his mind intact, the gangly young redhead was eager to please and did what was needed of him without question.
“Jonathan,” he started, sliding out of the customized Ford Interceptor sedan. “You do not damage a monument to sorrow like this. That creature up there is a testament to a man’s suffering, a building block for which the darkness in a man can flourish. No, you do not disturb artwork such as this.”
“Of course,” Jonathan said, lowering his head. “I am sorry, Professor.”
“It’s quite alright,” he replied. “Is there anything more, young Jonathan?”
“We found this stabbed into the wall by the fireplace,” he replied, handing a photo over to Professor.
“I see. When you say stabbed, do you mean by a pin?”
“No sir. With a knife.”
“Is that so?” Professor replied, his trademark grin forming behind his beard. “Search the house. Find any photo albums or family portraits that look like this picture. Look on the back of each one for anything that will tell us where this photo was taken. Take as many men as you need to get this done.”
“Yes, sir!” the man snapped, turning to run back through the wreckage of what was once a front porch.
“And Jonathan,” he added catching the man in mid stride. “When you speak with me, look me in the eye. I do not trust people who cannot bring themselves to do so when they speak.”
“Yes, Professor,” the redhead replied, looking straight into the man’s eyes while holding himself in place as if waiting for another order.
“You may go,” Professor said, turning away from the fleeing man and walking up to the silo.
“Oh, Mr. Foster,” he exhaled, clapping his hands together. “You didn’t do this monument justice in your story. This is marvelous, you really are a unique specimen.”
“Professor,” a woman with a thick Irish accent called from behind him.
&n
bsp; “Yes Rayna,” he called back cheerily. “What is it young lady?”
“We found something on the hill that I think you should see,” she replied.
“Well, let’s see what you have discovered,” he said. “And a good day to you Mr. Hadaman.” With a tip of his safari style hat, he stepped away from the undead thing, its gnashing and clacking teeth echoing off the farmhouse.
“This way, Professor,” she said, stepping over one of the many rotting and decaying corpses that littered the grounds long before they arrived.
“It seems our friend Daniel was in quite a scrap before leaving this place,” Professor mused. “It appears that his story of the harrowing battle and death defying escape was not all fairy tales.”
“I’ve seen worse,” she said as she stepped over a badly rotting corpse.
“I believe you have, young lady,” he replied, strolling around another pile of corpses. “That is a lovely dress you are wearing today. The green hues bring a sparkle to your eyes.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said coldly.
They passed by the ambulance, the man taking a moment to stop and reflect on the story of Abby’s death, and how it had affected the mental state of his new project. His sly grin grew as his mind played back every moment of Dan’s pain as he recanted a story he’d never wanted to revisit.
They moved on, beyond the carport and into the field. Silently they made their way through the thick mud and unkempt weeds that had already begun to take over the untended farmland. They trudged up a hill, winding through a small copse of trees until coming to a stop in front of a weeping willow tree.
“I see a grave,” he said after a few moments of contemplation. “I imagine you would not have brought me up here through all that mud and dirtied that pretty dress for a simple grave.”
“You’re right, Professor,” she said, crossing her arms. “Look at the inscription on the tree.”
He turned to read the notes dug deeply into the wood, the letters carved with painstaking precision so the message would last until the tree itself was dead and gone. His smile grew impossibly wide, as a small chuckle emerged from deep within him.
This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope Page 42