The Soul Eater (Chronicles 1): The Book of Roland

by James Master

  Here I sit on the chair that I once wanted. I never wanted to work at a gas station for the rest of my life, I wanted to be an author like Stephen King or Dean Koontz. James Patterson maybe, I don't like writing a mystery. Horror is my thing. Ironic how it turned out. Whoever is reading this, please don't open the cooler door. If you already opened the cooler door and killed the zombies without any bites then thank you for putting my co-workers at peace. You are braver than I was. As I write this last correspondence, I am contemplating suicide. I was bitten and it's only a matter of time till I turn anyways. I locked myself in here so I won't be a burden to the outside world until you, Constant Reader (As King would write), opens it and sees me either dead or the alternative. You will not see me breathing.

  Thank you for taking the time to read my last piece of writing I'll ever write again. Help yourself to whatever is in the Gas N Go. Including my gun, it's a .38 snub nose, one of those detective specials. I think the boss left some spare ammo in here somewhere.

  Sincerely yours,

  James Lee Bussard

  Roland read the letter and felt sorry for the poor guy. He was just a guy with a normal life when it got thrown off kilter by something out of his control. Somewhere along the line, he knew it was his family that was not only responsible for his death, but the deaths of the other hundreds of souls lost to the newest man-made plague. He carefully folded the letter and took an envelope from the desk and slipped it in, folding the envelope as well.

  He slipped it into his shirt pocket and pried the .38 from Jim's cold dead hands. It took a minute before he found the extra box of ammunition. Surprisingly it wasn't in the safe underneath the desk. It was in one of the drawers in the desk itself.

  He loaded the empty chamber and slipped it in one of his cargo pockets on his shorts. He moved his way from the darkness of the back into the front of the store. He reached and stripped two bags from a roll of thank you bags and loaded them with the snack cakes, candy and any other junk food that would make John's last day on earth as good as possible. In the other bag, he reached tentatively into the coolers and snatched twenty-ounce bottles of pop of different variety. He saw and heard the dead cashiers in the cooler. Their hands trying to reach him through the rows of soda between them. Roland slammed the cooler door shut on one of the ghoul's hand. It got caught on the door and tried to push it open.

  Suddenly a gunshot fired outside and Roland broke his trance of watching the cooler zombies. He ran outside and into the blazing sunlight to find Ashley standing, legs apart in the shooting stance he had taught her when they were once stuck in the house at Walkerton. At her feet, there was a crumpled figure on the ground. She heard the doors to the store opened and looked over to Roland. Their eyes met for a second when he noticed her eyes get wider.

  Before Roland could turn to see what she was looking at, Ashley had fired another at Roland. The shot whizzed past, his face turning as it passed him, to find another zombie falling down. Roland ran to the car and nodded his thanks. Ashley smirked. “Thanks, lady. I was almost a goner there.” Ashley, adrenaline pumping through her, pranced back to the car. Feeling dangerous, she dared flirting by flashing him a dazzling smile. “Roland, if you brought me a soda and goodies, I'll do anything for you.”

  Roland looked at her with confusion plastered on his face. Seeing his puzzlement, Ashley's cheeks turned bright red. Roland looked at Ashley for another moment over the hood of the Taurus. Ashley broke the eye contact and slunk into the car, not saying another word. Roland looked back at the gas station and the image of the dead cashier in the office flashed through his head. The idea that if he hadn’t found her, she would have ended up the same way overwhelmed Roland with guilt. Bringing the car to life, Roland guided the Taurus away from Jim and his last place of employment.

  *** 7 ***

  It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Roland looked at John and knew that this was his friend's last hour. They were on the outskirts of Oxford when Roland knew for sure. He saw a hill that overlooked a man-made lake. The Taurus stopped on the side of the road. Getting out, he helped John out of the car. John winced and moaned as they climbed up the hill. Ashley was in tow carrying the bags from the Gas N Go. Roland thought it lucky that their side of the hill was clear of any undead. He could see them further down the hill and around the lake, but other than that, they were pretty sparse. He knew the gunshot would get their attention, but he had bigger problems on his list.

  Ashley set the bags down and helped Roland lower John to the green grass. John looked around and smiled. He brushed his trucker hat off his head and Roland noticed for the first time that the man was wearing the hat to cover his considerable bald spot. John smiled as he felt the breeze hit his head. Roland closed his eyes and sighed. Ashley emptied the bags onto the ground. The three ate silently, none of them wanting to wreck the moment. John finished a Twinkie and chased it down with a Diet Coke. As he picked up another yellow cake and looked at Roland.

  “Mom said these things would kill me.” He started coughing Roland noticed blood was on the back of his hand when he wiped his mouth. “Guess I showed her. Tis Zombie that killed the Beast.” He started to laugh so hard that he went into a coughing fit that lasted a minute or two. John spit behind him. Roland looked around making sure that none of the undead heard the coughing. He saw the yellow sponge cake mixed with blood and was suddenly not in the mood for the snack cakes. Ashley wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. Roland looked away from John fixing his gaze on a zombie that was wondering around the bottom of the hill.

  “John, I know your time is ending. How would you like to go out? Did you want me to end it or did you want to do it yourself?” Roland then looked at the mindless humanoids walking aimlessly on the blood stained grass. “Or if you don’t want to be shot, we could leave you here.” Ashley looked at Roland in shock. She started to protest, but Roland cut her short.

  “It’s every man’s right to die by his choice if the situation occurs. Personally, I would rather shoot myself than turn into one of them. John coughed again and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  “You mean do I want you to want until I'm dead before you shoot me in the head?” Ashley started crying again. John nudged her with his elbow.

  “None of that girl. Don't cry. I'm moving on with my life. That's what death is. It's not the end, just a different stage of the greater game of life. As to your question my friend, give me a gun and I'll plug myself. That way you guys can get to the car and be on your way without being hassled with my future colleagues.”

  Ashley and Roland sat for another second before Roland handed over the pistol John had when they first met. John laughed sickly now; Roland could hear the bloody phlegm congesting in each cough.

  “My father bought me this pistol when I turned eighteen. He showed me how to handle the weapon and even bought me a box of ammo for it. He said that a gun was just a tool. Every tool needed cleaning and proper maintenance. He also said that every tool needed to be held properly. My father was a smart man. Do me a favor will you Roland?”

  Roland nodded still keeping his eyes on the zombie down by the lake. It gave him an excuse not to look at his dying friend. “Remember that revenge will only bring more death. Chasing Starke might be the only thing keeping you going, but when you catch up to him try mercy. Looking back on what Starke has done to me and my family, I think if he was here I would forgive him. Tell him that when you catch up to him. Tell him Big John forgave you. Now git, both of you.”

  Roland stood and patted John's shoulder. “Goodbye John, go with God.” Standing, he waited as Ashley wrapped John in a fiercely tight hug.

  “Go on girl, stay by Roland's side as long as you can. He is going to need you more than ever now. It’s fate that brought us together and fate that broke us apart. Now go, I get to see my family soon.” Ashley stood and walked to Roland’s side. He comforted her as they made their way down the hill. It was good too because her vision was getting blurry. She wa
s crying that much. Roland was opening the door for Ashley when they heard the gunshot. It was loud enough to make some birds fly from the trees. Shutting the car door, Roland turned seeing the slumped form of his companion for the last time. Roland was in the car by the time he heard the moans.

  He pulled the car onto the road and looked back to see the undead examining the noise.

  ** 8 ***

  Starke was sure that Ben knew that the zombie outbreak would happen. It's almost like he knew ahead of time. He had prepared for almost every situation. Starke watched Ben sleeping in bed from the security monitors. He had found his way through the mansion with surprising quickness. Ben was getting sicker and sicker every hour the day grew longer. By tomorrow, the mansion would belong to him including everything in it. He watched Jessica strut from room to room looking for either him or her father. Starke had been watching them from the safety of the security room since Ben had almost figured out where he knew him from. That was one thing he did not need right now. He leaned back in the relaxing chair he was in and yawned. He watched with perverse fascination as Jessica walked into the dining room. Starke moved his hand towards the computer mouse, using it to zoom in on the girl. “Damn, she's fine.” He felt a part of him grow in excitement. “Soon, my friend, soon.” He watched her eat a peanut butter sandwich, following her into the main foyer when she was done.

  Jessica turned as she left the dining room, thinking that she was being watched. She felt for sure that that creep Starke was around watching her, but when she turned, there was no one. She began to walk upstairs to check on her father when she heard a door open and saw Starke walk out of the servant’s hallway. Good, she thought, he wasn't watching her after all. She stopped halfway up the stairs when she saw that he was coming up to her. “Jessica, wait up.” She watched him climb up the stairs. “What is it, Mr. Starke?” He smiled, flashing her his semi white teeth. It reminded her of a sleazy used car salesman. “It's about your father. I think he is sick. In fact, I think he is sick enough that he could die.” Worry covered Jessica's face like a blanket covering a cold man. “Do you mean the deer bite? Does he have tetanus or something?” Starke laughed to himself. “What a dumb blonde.” he thought. “No, tetanus is when you step on a rusty nail. I think your father is infected by the virus that turns you into the undead.” Starke couldn't see the facial expression that Jessica had on her face because she had turned and ran upstairs, heading to her father's bedroom. Starke watched her run with great interest. He sighed to himself. “Like taking candy from a baby.” He started slowly up the stairs following her.

  Jessica ran into the bedroom, followed by Starke a minute later. Starke had taken his time, relishing the awkward silence. He waited outside the bedroom door, listening to Jessica trying to wake up her father. When he walked into the room, he liked seeing the girl in pain. “Daddy, are you alright?” Starke watched Ben sit up and look into the face of her daughter without any recognition. “Who are you, where is Maria?” Jessica looked back at Starke with dismay on her face. Starke feigned dismay. “Who is Maria?” Starke already knew that Maria was Ben's wife. It was almost twenty years, but Starke remembered her well. Like daughter, like mother he thought as he waited for the girl to reply. Jessica didn't answer, instead turned to her father. “Daddy, Mom is dead. She died when I was three. Don't you know me?” Her voice descended into a whisper. “Don't you know your daughter?” Ben looked past Jessica and looked at Starke. The man standing in the doorway saw a sudden recollection hit Ben. “Padre? Is that you, after all, these years?” Ben tried to get off the bed, but his legs weren't cooperating again. “It's been a long time Marty. Do you know what's the cause of this?” Ben's voice got suddenly quiet.

  “Did the experiment, how did it..... did you?” Starke quickly silenced the man by stepping further in the room but stopped when he got within a foot of the bed. “Ben, you are delusional. The virus is killing you. If you don't get your rest then you won't be able to recuperate.” He gripped Jessica by the shoulder, Starke got the idea in his head that he had better get her out of the room. Ben's memory was getting a little to clear right now and Starke didn't want his cover blown by this son of a bitch. “Let's let dear old dad get some rest. I think he is having hallucinations, brought on by the virus.” Ben's legs started to work all of a sudden. Starke knew this because Ben leaped out of bed and threw a punch aimed for his chin. If Ben had been standing he would have been true to his aim, but since he wasn't, he over exaggerated and fell down to the floor. Starke helped him up, but by that time Ben was up on his own and faced Starke with eyes burning.

  “You released it didn't you son of a bitch! Why in the name of God did you do such a thing? WHAT DID IT OFFER YOU?!?” Starke and Jessica just stared, Starke moved quickly to his left as Ben threw another punch. Jessica screamed at the top of her lungs. “Daddy! Stop, you're gonna hurt yourself!” Ben stopped his measly assault and looked over at his daughter. “Jessica, go down to the closet and get me my gun while I entertain our guest here. We'll play nice until you get back, won't we Reverend Martin, or is it Gary Starke now?” Starke looked at Jessica pleadingly. “Jessica, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your father is in a deep state of paranoia and I think we need to restrain him.” Ben didn't look at Jessica but at Starke as he said, “Honeybee, go get my gun.”

  Jessica moved towards the door, unsure of what to do. Her father thought that she was her mother. He also thought this guy here was a Reverend or something. She was pretty sure that her father was infected with something but was unsure of what. Starke was right, he did need to rest, but what should she do?

  As soon as the bitch was out of the room, he was going to rush the son of a bitch and beat the fuck out of him. To everyone's surprise, instead of going downstairs as her father had requested, she stepped towards her father swinging the curling iron, knocking him unconscious. With Ben down for the count, Starke looked at Jessica and spoke.

  “Thank you, my dear, I realize he is your father, but he was delusional....” Jessica looked up at Starke, a wild fire in her eyes. “Shut up and put him on the bed. He needs his rest. When you’re done, meet me in the dining room, we need to talk.”

  Starke watched her leave and hefted the man onto his bed. When that was done, Starke found some ties from Ben's closet and bound him to the bedposts. He then dug up a sock and gagged the man. “Fun time is almost here, I just one more piece of business.”

  *** 9 ***

  Roland and Ashley drove into town with an awkward silence between them. The death of their friend was a major factor, but the fact that the zombie outbreak might have been prevented drove Ashley to be pissed at Roland. Finally, Ashley couldn't take any more of the silence or of being pissed off at her friend and hero. She faced Roland ready to express just how mad she was when she stopped. Roland was crying. It wasn't a gusher or sob feast Ashley once had when a boy she had a crush on told her to get lost, it was just a couple of tears that ran down his face. Ashley's anger drained just from seeing her friend cry. She opened the glove compartment and found a small package of tissues. She took one out and reached over and dabbed at the rolling tears, causing Roland to start to laugh nervously.

  “Sorry Ashley, for everything: John, the outbreak, your life being ruined. It was my entire families fault.” Ashley shook her head.

  “Did you know of it, Roland? Did you know what they were doing?” Roland glanced quickly at Ashley and shook his head in the negative.

  “Well, I knew what Eddie was doing when he tried to get me back to the family business. That was what it was about. Creating immortality was how he phrased it. I told him he was crazy, that it would never happen.”

  “In the world filled with walking dead, impossible is cliché.”

  “That was the last him and I ever spoke. It was a pretty heated fight at our father's house. I took my inheritance, he took his, and we have never communicated until the day before the outbreak.” He sniffed back some tears and Ashley let him continue his story.
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br />   “He called me in the morning saying how everything was forgiven and that I was right. He said he screwed up and that we should meet in Manchester. He asked if I still remembered everything our father taught us about zombies. I didn't think he was serious about the zombies, but now I understand what he was talking about.” Ashley thought there was something Roland wasn't telling her and was about to ask about it when he beat her to the punch.

  “I got an email a day before Eddie's call. I couldn’t believe it at first. I sent a reply, but the address apparently didn’t exist. If you want I can pull over and grab it from my backpack.” Ashley shook her head and Roland continued to drive further into town. They were heading through the center of town. Ashley thought of her own little town but didn't feel any remorse. She never did like Walkerton much. She watched as they passed the playgrounds, to Ashley's horror there was an undead child trapped inside one of the jungle gyms interiors.

  “Why don't you just give me the cliff notes version?” Ashley looked at the young undead once more before they rode past, shivers slowly crawling up her spine.

  Roland wiped the last tear from his face using the back of his hand. “The short version? I can do that. The person that sent the email had to be from inside the company because there were interoffice memos, detailed accounts, journal entries, even some expense reports. They had all of the personal records and everything. It was a secret government agency that had no name other than The Project. Since it was funded exclusively by the billionaire Benjamin Jones, there were no oversight committees, no official procedure. The government just wanted results. They didn't directly get involved either. In the folder, I have there are several letters from a medical corporation named Morgan Medical Facilities.”