Adrift

by Trimboli, TJ

  ADRIFT

  TJ Trimboli

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web -without permission in writing from the author.

  Editor:

  Leanore Elliott

  Book & Cover design:

  Wicked Muse

  ADRIFT

  TJ Trimboli

  T.J. Trimboli Copyright © 2017

  DEDICATION

  “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”

  ~Walt Disney~

  This book is dedicated to my parents who gave me the courage to turn my dreams into reality, and to all the novelists whose books have led me to this day, I thank you. Stephen King. Michael Crichton. Brandon Sanderson. David Baldacci. J.K. Rowling. George R.R. Martin and so many more.

  PROLOGUE

  THE WAIF

  Flesh.

  It’d been the first thing on Julie’s mind as she emerged from her encampment. Nestled deep in the forest, the campsite had been her home for the past six months. The small clearing kept her safer than she ever felt since bouncing from foster home to foster home. The camp was tiny but so was she. At four eight and ninety pounds, she didn’t stand a chance against the wildlife but somehow, she found a way to persevere. What little time she spent in real homes, she watched nature documentaries. The kind where they dumped people out in the wild to see if they could survive. Pure animal instincts and Julie spent the last six months becoming friends.

  No one will ever cage me again.

  The sun crested over the trees. Today would be a scorcher. The last few weeks hadn’t been kind to Julie. While she dressed, she noticed the raw puss like boils and rashes encompassing her body. She’d been so mindful of the poison ivy in the area. Not mindful enough. She picked at the boil. It burst, oozing puss from her arm. Julie clutched at it, howling in pain. The red hotness of the rash crawled up her arm. She needed a way to cool down and fast. Grabbing her makeshift spear, she headed out for the reservoir. She’d learned during these hot summer months to stick as close to the pool of water as one could. The savage beasts of the land would be less likely to attack. Lately, it almost seemed like a collective truce was in effect at all watering holes.

  As she made her way to the creek, her stomach grumbled something fierce.

  Flesh.

  Julie didn’t understand her sudden fascination with the word. With each passing day, she remembered less and less, flesh being the only constant thought throughout the day. It’d crept in about a week prior.

  She’d made her weekly trip into town to beg for money for food when it happened. A man in his young twenties and his friends had approached her. She could see in their eyes, they had nothing but hate in their hearts. She held out her hands anyway. Who knows, maybe she would get lucky.

  She didn’t.

  These boys had other plans.

  “You look like you could use some money,” the ringleader said. “Tell you what, here.” He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket.

  Julie reached for it, but was too slow to the draw.

  He lifted his arm way above his head.

  Julie was helpless to grab it.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid! Not so fast. I’m not in the habit of giving handouts. If you want this money, you’ve got to earn it.”

  Julie said nothing. The last time she’d spoken was the night before she ran out on her foster parents. She’d been drinking with some classmates and came home well after dark. Her parents scolded her for what seemed like hours. Julie had never been one for being disciplined. As far as she was concerned, the only people on this planet who could discipline her had given her up at birth. She argued with her “parents” screaming whatever obscenities she could drum up. Anything to send her father into one of his rages. When he got worked up enough, he hit. He struck her in the temple with one of his big meaty claws almost rendering her unconscious. His last words to her stung worse than a hive of hornets protecting their nest.

  “Maybe if you kept your mouth shut, your parents never would have given you up.” She hadn’t spoken a word since.

  The ringleader slapped her upside the head bringing her back to reality. “Hello. McFly?

  Anyone in there? Did you hear what I said, sweetheart?” Julie nodded her head.

  The ringleader grinned. A disgusting grin like any pervert in this world would convey.

  She knew what would come next.

  He glanced over at his friends, spotting one in particular.

  A shy, cumbersome lad hidden in the back of the group. A ring of fire like pimples surrounded his mouth. His hair looked thin and oily. He would lose that before long. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

  Not that I can blame him. Julie stared back at him.

  “That is my friend Charlie. Can you believe it? He’s never been with a woman. Never felt one’s breath on his neck as she suckles his skin. Never tasted the sweet nectar that lies within each beautiful chick. He’s never even felt the brush of their lips on his. Poor guy.” The ringleader made sure Julie could see the money he was dangling over her.

  She wanted it. Food remained scarce in the woods. Rabbits had all but disappeared and she was much too meek to go after any larger prey.

  “So what do you say, kid? You show my friend some of the finer things in life. Kiss him, let him suck on your tits, maybe even go down on the boy and the money is all yours.” He sniffed the twenty spot as if the smell alone was enough to put one over the edge.

  Normally, he would be dead wrong but life takes on a whole other meaning when you haven’t eaten for a week. Still, Julie couldn’t bring herself to do it. She would rather starve to death than put that fat fuck’s pecker in her mouth. She spit on the floor in front of the ringleader, then turned her back to them and walked away.

  The ringleader moved much faster than she did and before she could take two steps, he grabbed her hair. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, urchin? You think you can just walk away from us. What? Are you too good to take my twenty dollars?” He bellowed and threw her into the wall.

  Her head bounced against the brick facade of the building. She collapsed to the ground clutching at her head. Blood seeped down from her hair. She looked around. The street was deserted. No one would be coming to her aid. She looked to Charlie. If there was anyone else here not excited by today’s proposition it would be him.

  Yet, there he stood. Silent as a mute. He made no move to help her or call off his friends.

  Men are so weak.

  “Alright little dove. This is how it’s going to go. We can do this the easy way, which in all honesty, is the fun way. You get to have a little fun. A man will touch you for the first time in probably forever and you’ll make twenty bucks out of it. But the main point is you won’t starve tonight and that’s really the name of the game today isn’t it. So come on kid, what do you say?

  Let’s not do this the hard way.” The ringleader put out his hand to help Julie up.

  Flesh.

  This one worded thought consumed her mind, pushing all cognitive reasoning out the window. It seeped into every synapse firing off in her brain. It drove her, for lack of a better term, temporarily insane. She bared her teeth, spit foaming at the mouth. The ringleader had a nanosecond to move his
hand. Julie launched at him, biting down hard tearing the skin off the bone.

  He cried out in agony.

  His friends all leapt to the rescue punching and kicking Julie until she released her grip. She fell back against the building huddling in the fetal position. The last thing she remembered was the ringleader’s boot connecting with the bridge of her nose.

  ….Twigs snapped in the distance forcing Julie from her memories. She crept down into the bushes scanning the expanse of the forest. Nothing. Foolishly, she thought nothing of it and continued her trek to the reservoir. A week ago, she would have climbed into the trees and waited but her brain had other plans.

  Flesh.

  The thought clawed at her. It made her sick to her stomach. She felt barren.

  I need to eat.

  She picked up her pace. Once she was at the creek, all would be better. There would be some kind of animal there and regardless of which kind, she would feast on one of them today. Squirrel, raccoon, sparrow, deer. It didn’t matter which. Flesh needed to be consumed. All other tasks were inconsequential.

  She pushed aside a large bush revealing the water before her. The lake stretched over a mile in circumference before it turned into a stream vanishing deeper into the woods. She hobbled forward dropping herself into the water. The coolness of the pond eased the inflamed boiling of the rash. Without even the slightest of regards for her safety, she opened her mouth gulping down as much water as her mouth could hold. If she had bothered to address any of her surroundings, she would have seen the nuclear waste collecting around the water. She lay back in the water staring up at the sky. The sun burnt, more so than usual. It felt like someone wrung a lasso around the sun pulling it closer to melt the world. She could feel her skin peeling. She tugged at her arms and was horrified when the skin slid off like dirt during a mudslide. She screamed but no sound came out.

  Instead, the roar of a bear filled the airstream.

  She looked around to see no sign of any wildlife. She caught a glimpse of her eyes in the water. Red veins littered the sclera around her pupils like worms crawling through the dirt. Even her irises had morphed from hazel to blood red.

  What is happening to me?

  The only thing beneficial in this whole situation for her was how sharply tuned her ears had become. Birds chirped, yet none flew overhead. She could hear cars speeding down the interstate six miles away. She heard a radio cackling. The signal coming through clear as a bell. Someone was in the woods with her. The radio went off.

  “…Possible contaminant…area’s three B through five C have been neutralized…five D unaccounted for…investigate dumping ground…quarantine any and all infected…” The radio chimed.

  Julie peered around for the source of the sound. She stood up in the pond and that’s when she saw it. Just beyond the bushes behind her. A team of three men in hazmat suits approached the pond. They had semi-automatic weapons in hand. One held some type of gizmo. Julie couldn’t make out what it was. She barely could register anything about them. All cognitive thought seeped out of her brain.

  The men saw her, drawing their weapons. They shouted something at her. It sounded like freeze, don’t move, but the words were muffled, practically inaudible.

  They must be speaking a different language.

  FLESH.

  The word became her mind. She licked her lips.

  The team slowly approached. The sound of a bear roared overhead once more. The team turned to see three large grizzlies had been stalking their every move.

  The last thing Julie noticed before her brain shut down completely was the same blood red eyes in the grizzlies that she sported herself. She bared her teeth.

  The grizzlies and she charged. They ripped the men limb from limb feasting on their innards as death spread across the land, changing the course of humanity forever.

  PART ONE

  THE VOYAGER

  CHAPTER ONE

  BOBBI…

  A foul breeze swept through the air on the luxury cruise liner, Voyager. It left Bobbi uneasy. On the fifth floor, the only balconies on which to feel the cool breeze were situated in each one of their state room’s. One she shouldn’t be able to feel in the middle of the ship on the entertainment level. But here she was, situated in only her bikini, goosebumps prickling up her arms. It had now become relevant to her that she’d left her bag up on the pool deck.

  Funny, I don’t even remember leaving the pool deck.

  The breeze picked up its assault on her body, arms shaking, teeth chattering. By no means did she expect to be as cold as she felt. Being from New York, Bobbi was no stranger to the cold winds of winter. However, this felt like none she’d ever felt before. Where once a sharp gust of wind would sting so hard her eyes would tear up, this felt more like a ghost walking through her body. She felt nauseous. The kind you get right before a big interview or first date.

  As she rounded past the, ‘I scream For Ice Cream’ shop, she headed towards the night lounge. She didn’t know what drew her to it, she just felt compelled to go there. To her, it seemed like every question she ever needed an answer to would be there waiting to spill the beans. Now, she gazed around, taking notice of all the shops and realized the floor was empty. Something virtually impossible on such a beautiful day as this.

  The halls of the gift shop were as quiet as a mouse. The spa barren. Not even employees keeping tasks of the day. She walked through a ghost town. The most unsettling of all the places empty to her, wasn’t the bar, the spa or the restaurants but the stillness of the arcade room. The game soundtracks echoed through the room sending a chill through every one of Bobbi’s bones.

  Where is everyone?

  The haunting calmness of the room brought Bobbi back home. The alertness, the attention to detail, it made her feel like a cop again. She could see the night lounge quickly approaching. A sense of dread and foreboding crept into her mind.

  What if I don’t like what I find?

  There would be no turning back now. Even as thoughts raced away in her mind, her feet wouldn’t dissuade her. She remained stuck on her course now. It brought her back to the night that changed her forever.

  A night very much like this.

  She remembered the smell of the rotting wood as she clambered through the abandoned house. The damp, rotting soil stung her eyes, signaling a taste of what was to come. The arcade music seemed eerily reminiscent of the cries and pleading she heard from a young boy kidnapped and forced to do things still unspeakable to her to this day. Whether the arcade symphony truly sounded like the horror might be debatable, but it was one Bobbi would argue in favor of until the day she died.

  She reached the night lounge, then peeked in on the vacant bar. The musician’s instruments littered the small stage in the back of the room. They’d accumulated enough dust and cobwebs to look like they hadn’t been touched in centuries, let alone last night. A glimpse of the tavern would lead one to believe the place had been ransacked. Half finished drinks cluttered the counter, chairs knocked over, and tables were broken. The paint was chipped away and paintings on the wall grimed and muddied, nearly unrecognizable. She scanned the room until she found the bar. It shocked her to see a man sitting on one of the stools with his back was to her.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  The man said nothing. The slurping sound of a straw running out of liquid permeated her ears.

  Slowly, Bobbi crept towards the man. She came upon the bar, never expecting to find Trent, her husband, of all people.

  Even sitting on the stool, he towered over Bobbi. At six five, two hundred and twenty pounds, he looked every bit the hunk today that he’d been when she first met him on the force. Yet still, something about him felt off. His hair, usually neat with never a strand out of place, hung disheveled over his ears. Patches of his hair had been torn out. He wore a Hawaiian themed shirt complete with toucans and pineapples stitched into the fabric which had been ripped in multiple spots.

  Is he responsible for t
his mess?

  He held onto an empty glass. Clean too. Dry as sand in the desert.

  Bobbi made note of it, another incredulous thought. She tried to put the thought aside but the cop in her couldn’t drop it.

  This day was turning far too peculiar for her liking.

  “Trent. What are you doing here? Where is everyone?” she asked him with a determined vigor. She was starting to truly feel on edge. This place should be brimming with guests. Shopping, drinking, having fun. This was a vacation after all. It felt more like an elephant graveyard. She waited for Trent’s answer but none came.

  Trent would not take his eyes off the glass in front of him. He gazed upon it with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns beating down on him.

  Bobbi attempted to shake Trent out of it but to no avail.

  He seemed to be locked in an eternal staring contest with the glass and he was losing.

  Suddenly, the glass crushed under Trent’s hand shattering into a dozen pieces.

  Bobbi let out a yelp jumping back. She threw up her hands to shield herself from the debris.

  Trent sat with his hand on the bar, drenched in a warm circle of blood. He peered at his hand like a young child discovering the world around them for the first time. He softly made a fist examining the blood trickling down his arm. It had his undivided attention. He squeezed his fist harder forcing the blood out.

  “Trent, stop it. You’re hurt. Why did you do that?” No reply came.

  “Trent, why won’t you answer me?”

  Then as if that had been the secret code word at the end of her sentence, Trent launched into an unfathomable diatribe, “…Bite the head off of the snake…The flower petals will bloom. Make sure that they don’t…the fate of the world…beware the falsehood of friends and men… beware the plague…the sparrows are not what they seem…Be true to thy own virtue…”