Tainted Future (The Rememdium Series Book 3)

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Disappeared?” Cooper asked.

  “Yeah. Thought my parents would have heart attacks before we got back to the states. Dad said the authorities concluded Daryl had been kidnapped by a drug cartel ring, run by some guy named Alvarez. No, that’s not right. Alva…Alvarado. Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, after that happened, we high-tailed it back to the states. But, before Daryl vanished, I loved the place. Your accent is beautiful. I’m surprised I seemed to remember it well.”

  Teresa’s heart fluttered in her chest, glad she’d only given her first name earlier.

  Holy shit. Daddy’s legacy, even in the middle of this nightmare, still lives on. I can’t believe he knew Daryl Riverside! I remember him! Tall, lanky, ugly American. Daddy brought him to the manse once. Pft! Daryl Riverside certainly hadn’t been kidnapped. He’d come willingly. Those two days he spent at the estate, holed up in secrets meetings with Daddy—oh, the irony. I’m in the middle of nowhere, on the run from walking corpses, and bump into someone with ties to my past. Unreal.

  “Well, you were right. I’m originally from El Salvador. Now, do you mind?” Teresa whispered, holding up the journal.

  “Oh, sorry. Sure thing,” Mason muttered.

  Teresa blocked out the murmurings of Cooper and Mason as they gabbed in the front seat. She’d trust them, but not enough to fall asleep. Instead, Teresa grabbed the flashlight and Roberto’s journal from her purse and started reading.

  Teresa hoped she’d find account numbers, passwords, locations, to all the money Roberto had stashed around the world. Surely, whatever Hell was happening in the United States wasn’t occurring everywhere! Maybe she’d get lucky and find some in the Caymans, or Bahamas. Going to Arkansas with the two men wouldn’t be such a bad idea, since it would put her closer to the ocean…

  All Teresa’s thoughts about money, finding a new home in a warm, tropical location similar to El Salvador, vanished, after she read the last two months’ worth of entries.

  Oh. My. God.

  Roberto, Benito—you bastards!

  Maria. My sweet, naïve, blind Maria. Now I know why you were at the slaughterhouse! He used you as a mule, and Roberto knew of the plan! I…oh, Jesus! I can’t believe it! For days I wept, begging Benito and Roberto to do something to find you—and they knew all along!

  Roberto Sanchez—I hope you aren’t dead. I hope you are a walking cadaver, doomed to forever roam in search of food, yet never find any!

  Maria. My sister. I knew I should have brought you with me to the states! Away from that crazy San Salvadorian!

  Benito San Nicholas—if you’re alive, you better start praying. Ask the Virgin Mary to let the dead get to you before I do. Because I swear, I will do whatever it takes—kill whatever stands in my way—to get back to El Salvador and find you.

  When I do, you’ll beg me to end your suffering. I won’t, though. I won’t. I’ll make sure you feel all the pain you caused my sister. And me.

  All of it. The road to your personal Hell will be paved with blood and pain.

  Lots and lots of excruciating pain. You took away my reason for living, yet provided me with a new one. Revenge, Benito. My focus, my entire being, is now controlled by revenge.

  Teresa closed the journal and stared out the window, any semblance to her old life completely obliterated from her thoughts.

  THE MEETING - Tuesday, December 23rd – 10:15 p.m. – Central Standard Time

  Lamar crouched next to Walter, studying the tracks covered with fresh snow. Shaun watched from several steps back, eyes scanning the white-coated forest. He was tired from trekking through the woods, his mind and body still adjusting to the events of the last four days. They’d taken an alternate route, opting not to attempt a journey down the slippery slope Turner fell from the day before. When they passed the glen with the graves, Shaun felt sick to his stomach.

  “That way,” Lamar whispered, pointing west with the tip of his rifle.

  “Agreed,” Walter answered, rising to his feet. He clicked off the flashlight and stuck it back inside his pocket.

  Shaun scanned the forest one last time before moving to join the rest of the men. Though it was late, the moon was bright, the silvery rays bouncing off of the fresh snow. “How can you be so sure? The snowfall covered most of the tracks, right?”

  “Yes, the one’s where they walked alone. But the one’s made when they were carryin’ the body are deeper. See?” Lamar answered. “Thank God we only got a few inches of snow, or we’d be screwed.”

  “Okay, boys. You know the plan. We follow these tracks until they lead us to their location. Once they do, we’ll know where these bastards have been hidin’. After that, we draw them out with this.”

  Shaun stared at the makeshift Molotov cocktail Walt rigged earlier. That part of the plan he didn’t like. While they’d huddled in the cave earlier, going over every detail of the plan, Shaun suggested one of them act as a decoy. Run to the encampment and beg for help. He’d even offered to be the one to do it.

  Walt disagreed, saying it was too risky, because they had no idea how many people they were dealing with. His plan was to detonate the bomb, hide in the shadows, and pick off one or two to hold as hostages. Then, they would have leverage to negotiate with in exchange for information.

  Shaun hadn’t said another word during the planning phase. Knowing what they were about to do made him feel weird. It was wrong. The cop in him didn’t like the idea at all. A heavy sense of unease slithered around in his gut. He couldn’t shake the sensation they were walking into a trap, and he didn’t like leaving the rest of the group behind.

  Reed Newberry was a tough man, but he wasn’t a spring chicken. Neither were Martha or Jane. Turner certainly wasn’t in the position to do anything to help, should something happen while they were on this foolhardy quest. And Jesse? Well, Jesse was the last person Shaun would want to entrust with a life. She was too jittery; too unstable.

  Too young.

  Shaking the doubts aside, Shaun followed Walt, Bailey, Allsop, Kyle and Lamar up the slight incline. Being outside in the woods, his eyes automatically scanned the terrain for deer. He almost laughed out loud, wondering how the others would react if he broke ranks and took down a doe or buck.

  Shaun wanted to turn back and forget about the whole thing. They didn’t need to know any more than what they already did. If whatever was in the air, soil, or each other, was turning people into flesh-eating monsters, the easiest solution was just to remain in the vicinity of the cave. Stay away from the rest of humanity. Only leave when supplies needed to be refilled. Maybe find a feed and seed store as they approached spring. Plant a few seeds, catch some deer, maybe a few rabbits, breed them, and keep a constant supply of fresh meat handy.

  He could do it. They all could. Learn to live off the land, naturally, the way God originally intended. There were plenty of beneficial plants to eat in the Ozark mountains to help sustain them. Shaun had a pretty damn good memory, and recalled several books written by a local author named Madison Woods. Marian had bought one of her books and given a signed copy to Shaun as a Christmas gift the year prior.

  Shaun smiled at the memory. Marian told him she worried about him spending so much time in the woods, fearing what would happen if he ever got lost or injured. The book would teach Shaun all he needed to know survive out in nature should the need to survive arise. It was the last, kind moments he’d spent with Marian, that Christmas morning the year prior. Weeks later, their marriage came apart at the seams.

  Focusing back on the books, Madison Woods wrote about how to spot wild ginseng, and all its medicinal properties, along with other wild fauna and flora found in the mountains.

  They could do it—they could survive, maybe even thrive—without exposing themselves to others. Without killing individuals trying to do the same thing.

  Shaking his head, Shaun stifled a laugh. He was such a hypocrite! He didn’t bat an eye when shooting the rocket launcher and killing the soldiers back in Malvern. He never gav
e it a second thought. But, that was in the heat of battle, and the soldiers’ intentions were obvious. No doubts. This time, though, was different.

  They’d had time to regroup, think, breathe. What if the people they were stalking weren’t from the government? What if they’re just like their small group? Survivors who snagged military equipment and fled? What if they were other preppers? That would explain the bio suits. Maybe they were just burying a friend, and took extra precautions while doing so?

  Shaun thought about that, but nixed the ideas. They didn’t add up, either. Walt said one flipped his lid about fungus. Plus, Shaun already met Kevin Warton. He was definitely military. Or, maybe as he mentioned, ex-military. Walt and Lamar are both ex-Army, too.

  Biting his lip, Shaun shook his head. He was going to drive himself insane thinking about all this! Then again, it was better than thinking about Marian. Or April. What was left of them. How everything changed in the blink of an eye. It was no wonder his thoughts bounced wildly from one scenario to another.

  He hated himself for thinking it, but Shaun was glad his parents passed on before the world ended. He understood why Bailey and Allsop wanted to leave. He’d go insane with worry if any of his loved ones were still alive—alone—trying to survive.

  One minute, I’m out in the woods, enjoying myself, and the next—bam! Smack dab in the middle of Hell. A week ago, my only concern was about being a Dad, and how I’d handle staying married to a woman who’d cheated on me. How I’d pay the bills with a new baby on the way. Wondering if I should get another job, since my ticker isn’t as strong as it used to be. Or, maybe stay on the force, keep my heart issues quiet, and just get an additional part-time job to help with all the new expenses. Trading in my truck for a van to hold a baby seat.

  Shaun was bombarded with memories, swirling and churning inside his mind. He froze in his tracks as new memories burst forward.

  Craig’s cocaine addiction.

  Kevin Warton’s reaction about the powder inside the bag, and his final words to Jesse.

  “Don’t do drugs.”

  How fast people turned.

  How fast the dead moved.

  Jesus H. Christ! It makes perfect sense! Why didn’t I make the connection before?

  Shaun’s internal musings ceased when the others ahead of him stopped. Walter pointed at the ground.

  The tracks were gone.

  “Walter? Wait, I think I figured out—”

  “Be quiet,” Lamar hissed.

  Walter crept forward, all attention focused on studying the rock formation. All of them, except Shaun, moved closer.

  No. I’m going to say something. This isn’t right! We shouldn’t be here. Speak up, fool! You aren’t afraid of an old prepper, are you? Besides, Walter said we should voice our opinions.

  Just as Shaun opened his mouth to speak, his senses warned him something was wrong, but not in enough time.

  Cold steel pressed against the back of his exposed neck.

  “Drop your weapons, now, or I’ll drop your friend.”

  No one moved.

  “I said drop them!”

  Shaun recognized the voice. It belonged to Kevin Warton.

  “Easy, Mr. Warton. We were just—”

  Another man appeared seemingly from nowhere, right behind Bailey. He stuck the tip of his rifle at the base of Mike’s neck. Rather than hold still, Mike raised his weapon.

  The sounds of crunching snow from numerous footsteps burst all around them. Kyle yelled, “Shit! Munchers!”

  Everything happened so fast, Shaun didn’t have time to register it all.

  Shots rang throughout the quiet woods. Shaun felt his body fall backward. He landed on top of Kevin and rolled left, trying to scramble to his feet. The slippery snow made the task difficult. Finally gaining some traction, Shaun stood and pulled his weapon.

  More screaming; more gunfire. Then, burning pain exploded in the back of Shaun’s neck, followed by searing heat through his chest. He gasped once before collapsing.

  “Enough! Enough! It’s over! We got ’em all,” an unfamiliar male voice said.

  Shaun heard Lamar yell from his right, but his voice sounded odd. “Fuck! He took two hits—a bite and a bullet!”

  “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!” Walter yelled.

  “Oh, God! I tried to shoot through him to kill it!” Bailey said. “I aimed for his shoulder, I swear! Shaun! I’m so sorry!”

  Footsteps converged on Shaun’s position. Someone’s hands pressed down hard on his chest. He tried make out who it was, but his vision blurred. Everything looked gray and fuzzy, like staring at static on a TV.

  “Son-of-a-bitch! Look at the size of that bite—”

  “Never you mind, Lamar. Shaun? Shaun? Can you hear me? It’s Walt.”

  “We’ve got a doctor. Here, help us get him up.”

  “Hear that, Shaun? You’re fine, just stay calm, okay? These men have access to a doctor. Just hang on, son.”

  Walter’s voice was so faint, Shaun wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken, or he’d just imagined it.

  There was no more pain; no cold, damp ground soaking through the jacket. A weird buzzing inside Shaun’s head drowned out everything.

  Peace. There was warm, blessed peace up ahead. Shaun sensed it call out to him.

  “Come unto me, I’ll give you rest.”

  The voice enveloped Shaun’s mind and body, pulling him toward the warm, inviting light.

  “Daddy. Come home.”

  “April?”

  “Shhh, rest now. We’re gonna take you to see a doc. Hang on, Shaun. Hang on,” Walter urged from somewhere distant, far away.

  “Don’t listen to him, Daddy. Come home. Mommie and I are waiting.”

  “I’m comin’, April. I’m comin’.”

  Everett looked at the disheveled men standing around the makeshift operating table. With a heavy heart, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but your friend will be gone in seconds. I tried, but the bullet did too much damage. Uh, he’ll turn not long after taking his last breath. The brain must be destroyed to prevent that. Now.”

  The room erupted with accusations hurled from both sides. Everett had never witnessed so many angry men confined inside such a small area before.

  “That’s quite enough!” Dirk yelled. He stood in between Warton and the man named Walter. “He’s gone, and I’m sorry for your loss. Let’s not add another to the body count tonight. We need to put him down before he reanimates. Please, step out into the hallway and I’ll—”

  “No. It’s my fault. All my fault. Jesus, I’ve known Shaun since kindergarten. I’ll do it.”

  “Bailey, was it?” Dirk asked.

  “Yeah. Mike Bailey.”

  The tension hung thick in the air. Everett’s skin prickled from the vast amount of energy confined into the meeting room. Yet another soul would pass inside the space.

  Everett wanted to find some comfort that at least, the death of this man wasn’t on his shoulders. He couldn’t. All the twists and turns from this nightmare converged on his doorstep. Unwilling to look at the man’s face any longer, Everett stepped away as the distraught Mike Bailey took his place.

  The man was so young, maybe thirty, tops. Everett said a silent prayer for his family.

  If he had any left.

  “Bailey, you sure? I’ll do it if you can’t.”

  “No, Walt. Ain’t gonna have the blood that belongs on my hands stain yours. Please, all of you, leave. I need to say my final goodbyes before I do it.”

  Everett winced when Bailey pulled a knife from his jacket. Tears slid down Bailey’s cheeks, making Everett’s own appear. The rest of the them left the room in silence.

  Once out in the hallway, Dirk addressed the new group of visitors. “What’s happened can’t be changed. It’s over. Please, let’s all take a deep breath and calm down.”

  “Calm down? We just lost one of our friends because—”

  “Because we’re all walking such a tight rope and weren�
��t concentrating on our real enemies. You know, the walking sacks of puss and goo out there?”

  “Bullshit. Your men ambushed us before the dead made an appearance. How do we know you didn’t use them as weapons against us?”

  Dirk’s face blanched. “Walter Addison, right?”

  A slight nod of the man’s head was the answer. Everett sensed the edginess from not only Mr. Addison, but the others. Being around so many high-strung people, all with guns, made Everett’s skin crawl.

  “Okay, Walt, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you out of your fucking mind? Zombies? As some sort of biological weapons? Jesus, how much TV did you watch before all this happened? Yeah, we sent the dead out to do our dirty work, then decided to watch how it played out, up close and personal. Think, Mr. Addison. Had that been our plan, we wouldn’t have risked our lives, announced our presence, or worked on keeping your friend alive.”

  “He’s right, Walt. That man there saved your life by shootin’ the one sneakin’ up behind you.”

  “Whose side are you on, Kyle?” Walter hissed.

  “I’m on the side of livin’, that’s what side I’m on. Whether these men are soldiers or not, they tried to help. That one there—”

  “Clive. Clive Winters. Say it’s nice to meet you, but that’d be a lie.”

  “Okay, Clive Winters. He saved your ass from endin’ up like Shaun. In this world now, that means everythin’. To me, at least. On behalf of our little group, I’d like to say thanks to all of you. We all coulda died out there. Or worse.”

  “You’re welcome, Kyle. As I mentioned before, this is not a government installation, and we aren’t soldiers,” Dirk offered. “All of us are ex-military, except Dr. Berning here. We take orders from no one. The only reason these men were topside is because our sensors picked up movement outside. Unfortunately, the equipment only picked up your thermal signals, since the others in the forest no longer generate heat.”