Am I Dead?: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The Great Dying Book 2)

by Paul Seiple

  "Who won?" Grace asked, taking her father's arm and helping him to his seat.

  "The bad guys," Willard said.

  Alice dropped a spoon. As she bent to pick it up, her head began to spin. Alice started to fall. She caught the edge of the sink and braced herself.

  "Mom?" Grace asked.

  "I'm fine. I got lightheaded when I bent over. It must be this cold."

  "Here, let me help you." Barrett cradled Alice's elbow in the palm of his hand. He put his other hand on her waist and helped her onto the chair. Barrett sat beside Alice.

  "I'll be fine in a minute," Alice said.

  "You just rest. I'll get everyone a plate," Grace said. She motioned for Barrett to keep an eye on her mother.

  "I'm hungry, Mom. I need one of Grandma's homemade biscuits," Taylor said.

  "Me too," Sally said.

  "Me three," Barrett said.

  "Well, you're going to have to wait your turn," Grace said, placing a plate of food in front of Willard.

  "Let me help you," Alice said.

  "You've done enough. Just sit there and relax," Grace said.

  Alice closed her eyes and tried to wash away the last bit of dizziness. When she opened her eyes, her sight was blurry, more than usual. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Blakely, she thought.

  "Here you go, Mom."

  Grace lowered a plate of food in front of her mother. An aroma latched onto Alice's nostrils and sent hunger pangs through her belly.

  "It smells so good," Alice said.

  "Better taste good too," Willard said. "I paid an arm and a leg for that bird."

  Alice stared at the plate of food as subtle waves of nausea hit. Beads of sweat popped up on her head, dampening her grey hair.

  After getting Barrett's food, Grace sat down and took her father's hand. It started a chain reaction around the table.

  "Dad, will you say a prayer?"

  After the blessing, everyone but Alice began to eat. Grace watched her mother swirl mashed potatoes around a spoon.

  "Mom, are you sure you're OK?" Grace asked.

  "I'm fine." Alice forced a spoonful of potatoes into her mouth and prayed she would be able to keep them down.

  "It doesn't look like you're having any problems, Dad," Grace said.

  Willard wiped his mouth and nodded.

  "Everything is so good," Barrett said.

  "I'm so glad you got out of Charlotte before that drug business went down," Alice said. She felt a bit better after the mashed potatoes stayed down.

  "Yeah, me too. It's crazy how those drugs can turn people into zombies," Barrett said.

  Sally dropped her fork onto the plate, sending a clanking sound throughout the kitchen. "I don't feel good, Mommy."

  "What's wrong, baby?" Grace asked.

  "I'm hungry," Sally said.

  "Don't you like the turkey?" Grace asked.

  "It's not what I want," Sally said.

  "Well, I'm sorry, baby. We don't have chicken nuggets. You're just going to have to make do," Grace said.

  Sally stared blankly for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. She grabbed her brother's arm. Food flew across the table.

  "Hey," Taylor said.

  Sally sank her teeth into Taylor's forearm.

  "She's biting me," Taylor said.

  Grace rose to her feet, kicking the chair out from behind her. She grabbed Sally. "Stop it."

  Sally let go of Taylor's arm and bit her mother's hand. Barrett reached for Grace, but Alice latched onto his wrist with her feeble grasp.

  "What are you doing?" Barrett asked.

  Alice didn't speak. The virus had stolen her voice. She spoke with actions, not words. She lunged at Barrett, biting the side of his face.

  Judas could no longer be kept hidden. It was rampant in the wild. And it knew how to survive.

  Epilogue

  A Year Later

  Q stood beside a patch of snapdragon. Reddish-pink and white blossoms added contrast to the green grass. Q came out by the wildflowers every morning. In a way, he was thanking the universe for giving him another day, but it was also a way to let off stress. All attempts at creating a cure from Emily's blood failed. Nick and Daria couldn’t find the Judas website, and it looked like they never would now that the Internet no longer worked. The flowers showed Q there was still beauty to be found in a dying world, and that was enough to keep him going.

  Q listened to music on his iPhone as birds chirped. The phone was nothing more than an expensive iPod now. Cell service went down months ago. It was no big loss; Q had no one to call. And on the bright side of things, he no longer worried about being traced.

  "If I'd known you were going to play that awful music, I would have destroyed those solar panels Nick made," Daria said. "What is that trash?"

  "I'm sorry, I don't have any Justin Bieber on my playlist," Q said.

  "Not every teenage girl likes pop bullshit. You're stereotyping."

  "Sorry. What's on your playlist?"

  "I don't know…ummm…seventies Stones, Patti Smith, The Damned, The Misfits…good music, not that shit you're listening to," Daria said.

  "Good music like 'Astro Zombies'?" Q asked. "It's a good thing zombies aren't really from outer space."

  "Wait, you listen to The Misfits?"

  "Mainly just Walk Among Us." Q said.

  "Mind…fucking…blown. So, why are you listening to that shit?" Daria asked. "The summer is here at last? By the way, I'm not happy about that. This is Vermont. How is it so damn hot?"

  "This shit is sixties gold, youngling. It's called 'A Rose for Emily'."

  Daria looked at the patch of ground where Emily Morgan was buried. "Way to make me feel like shit, Q."

  "It's The Zombies." Q said.

  "What?"

  "The band is called The Zombies."

  "Talk about irony," Daria said.

  "Tell me about it. I thought Emily would appreciate it."

  A boom followed by a plume of smoke in the distance caused them to jump.

  "They're getting closer," Daria said.

  "Yeah, I know."

  "We can't stay here much longer," Daria said.

  Q watched the smoke spread.

  "Well, looks like another tanker shit the bed," Nick said, walking up with a cup of coffee.

  "Where will we go?" Daria asked.

  Q continued to watch the smoke. Nick sipped coffee. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  "Oh, shit," Nick said, dropping the mug. He fidgeted for his phone.

  "Got an itch?" Daria asked.

  There was a "thumbs up" notification flashing on Nick's phone.

  "It's James," Nick said.

  "How do you have Internet? Are you holding out on me?" Daria asked.

  "The government has a secret Internet that acts like the Energizer bunny. It will still work after a nuclear war. I kind of stole the plans when I was working with ARMA, who, by the way, stole the plans from the government. As long as the sun shines, this will work."

  "You mean, I could have been playing Candy Crush all this time?" Daria said.

  Nick furrowed his brow.

  "Sue me. It's a time waster. I have plenty of time," Daria said.

  "What did James say?” Q asked.

  Nick shook his head. "Oh yeah." He tapped the notification. A grey message bubble popped onto the screen.

  Finally safe. We met a prepper who took us in. We've been underground for the last six months, but we've built a compound we feel is safe from threat. Are you still alive?

  Nick typed a reply.

  Yes. Q and I are in Vermont. He found out that you're immune to the virus if you've had the flu in 2009.

  Nick waited for a response.

  Welcome to last week. We are moving to the compound next week. Come join us. We are in Fort Hill, SC.

  Nick smiled. "Looks like we are going to South Carolina.”

  “Why?” Daria asked.

  “James invited us to some compound he’s built. K
nowing my brother, it’s going to be the closest thing to the Ritz Carlton these days.”

  “Carolyn?” Q asked.

  Nick looked at the message on his phone. He raised his eyes to meet Q’s. “He said ‘we,’ Q.”

  Q bent down and placed his hand on the ground where Emily was buried. “I promised your blood would be a part of the cure, and it will.”

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  AM I DEAD? is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

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