Rotten
Book One: Infection
M. Lauryl Lewis
Copyright 2018 M. Lauryl Lewis / Larson Falls Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, or circumstances are purely coincidental and not reflective of real persons: living, dead, or undead. This work may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher or you may be eaten by zombies.
- DEDICATION -
For Peter. Let’s go camping.
Other Works by M. Lauryl Lewis
Horror:
The Grace Series (a crossover to the Rotten Series)
Grace Lost
Tainted Grace
Dark Grace
Fallen Grace
Praying for Grace
State of Grace
New Adult Romance:
This Side of the Sun
Table of contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
A note from the author
Chapter One
Spending Labor Day with my roommate’s aunt and uncle wasn’t my idea. Karly’s aunt Twyla was a busy-body who thought she knew it all, and her uncle Herb gave me the creeps. When Karly dropped the bomb that she’d invited them for dinner, I told her I’d rather stay home by myself while they dine out. My stomach turned at the thought of sharing a dinner table with them, not to mention their being in our little home. The house was willed to me by my late Grandma Beatrice, so by rights I could have told her no. But, in fairness, she was paying rent and my best friend. And, she had planned on me driving home to Idaho for the holiday. My car dying was unanticipated.
“I’m sorry, Poppy. I didn’t think you’d mind,” she kept whining as she followed me around the living room. “They really aren’t that bad, and they don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I know,” I sighed as I slipped off my ankle-high leather cowboy boots. “He just gives me the creeps and she never stops asking me weird questions. Did you know the last time I saw her she asked me if I’m a lesbian?”
Karly tried to suppress a laugh. “Sorry,” she offered a feeble apology.
“It’s not funny. She said she was sure I am because I just have ‘that look’ and she’s never seen me with a nice boy.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry Poppy. I really am.”
“I mean seriously, what does she think a lesbian looks like exactly? And so what if I were?”
“I know. Twyla’s a bit off her rocker.”
“What time are they getting here and when will they leave?” I grumbled.
She looked at her iPhone to check the time. “They said mid-morning tomorrow, and I still need to buy stuff for dinner. Want to come to the store with me?”
“This late?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to be in a rush tomorrow and I don’t want to leave them alone here. I know Twyla snoops.”
“Yeah. Sure. Let’s hurry though? I want to get back and go to sleep.”
“No problem.”
I stood and pulled my favorite blue cardigan on, grabbed my purse, slipped my boots back on, and followed Karly out the front door.
The day had been warm, but the night was cool and brisk. I waved to the little old man living next door. He looked even older than usual and began coughing horribly as he tried to wave back.
“Mr. Oleson looks bad,” whispered Karly. “He’s pale.”
“I think it’s his driveway light, but he’s out later than usual. Think we should go check on him?” I asked.
“Yeah, but let’s do it in the morning. We can invite them for dinner, then Twyla can focus on asking poor Mrs. Oleson weird questions.”
“That’s not nice,” I mumbled back to her.
As I slid into the front seat of Karly’s little beat-up Toyota pickup, I looked back to make sure Mr. Oleson got inside okay. As he opened the door, the inside of his house seemed ominously dark.
***
Originally a family-owned furniture store, Kroger’s Grocery moved into the old building as our town of Priority grew when a new factory moved in, bringing with it jobs and many new residents. The warehouse had been involved in a string of arsons back in the day. Despite an extensive renovation before the grocery’s grand opening, a slight smell of burnt wood and plastic lingered. It wasn’t my favorite store to visit due to the smell.
“What’s first on the list?” I asked as we walked through the grocery’s front doors.
“Ham, if they have any left. If not, we’ll grill steaks.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Salad, crescent rolls, baked potatoes,” said Karly as she looked longingly at candy bars that lined the shelves to our left.
“Want me to make a lemon meringue pie?” I asked.
“Uh…yes! Oh, and I want to buy some basics to donate to the food bank.”
One of my favorite things about my best friend was her constant desire to make life better for others. She was always willing and wanting to offer a hand to anyone in need.
“Cool. I’ll pay for half.”
She laced an arm through mine as we left the rows of chocolate and gummy candies behind. Rounding the corner, we came face-to-face with the refrigerated section holding a variety of meats. We bypassed the chicken and beef and eventually found the remaining spiral cut hams.
“Score,” Karly whispered as she chose the smallest of them.
“I was kinda hoping for the steaks,” I admitted.
She rolled her eyes at me. “We can do steaks on Monday after work.”
The lights flickered, causing us both to look up. The hum of the refrigerators sputtered before the power went out again. We were bathed in the blackness of the night.
“Everyone stay where you are. We’re getting flashlights out,” a woman’s voice boomed in the distance.
Someone several aisles over laughed loudly, which turned into a coughing fit that sounded like a dying rhinoceros. I cringed. The coughing worsened right before cutting off abruptly. Someone asked if the person was okay. The question went unanswered and was immediately followed by the crash of items falling to the floor. The smell of dill pickles hit me.
“Oh my God,” I said.
The light from a flashlight beam danced through our aisle as a store employee approached us.
“Go ahead and take one, but you’ll need to share it,” the older woman said as she passed the light to us.
She looked spooked as she walked by and turned the corner. We followed her. A woman in the next aisle knelt next to a large man who was collapsed on the floor, surrounded by cans of baked beans, boxes of mac-n-cheese, shattered glass and spilled pickles.
“Call 911,” I yelled to anyone who might be listening.
I began to move toward the man, but Karly held me back.
“Don’t,” she said. “There’s something wrong with him.”
“He needs help,” I said, trying to shrug Karly off my arm.
“The phone line’s busy! I can’t get through,” said a woman who looked panicked.
“Keep trying,” I said.
“Mine too,” said a teen boy who held his cell phone up. “I can’t get through. To 9-1-1 or m
y mom.”
The woman beside the fallen man began sobbing. “He stopped breathing. Oh God, he stopped breathing. Oh God, Marvin, don’t you leave me!”
My heart sank. Her voice held such pain and fear.
“Get him on his back,” I said as I broke free of Karly’s grip. “I’m trained in CPR.”
I knelt beside the woman who continued to beg the man not to die. She seemed almost unaware of my presence. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked a sickly shade of yellow-gray.
“Ma’am? Let me try to help him. I need you to scoot back, okay?”
She met my eyes, but just barely. Her eyes held a hint of cloudiness and a stream of blood began to fall from her nose. As her hand went to her mouth to cover her cough, I backed away to avoid being sprayed. Time seemed to slow as she fell forward onto the deceased man. Someone in the background mumbled an obscenity, and I scooted farther away. My left boot dragged through a trail of blood and pickle juice on the tile floor, resulting in a high-pitched squeak.
“Someone check for her pulse,” said an old woman in the background.
“No, don’t touch them,” I spoke loudly. “They might be contagious.”
I watched as blood pooled beside the man. The woman drew a large jagged breath, which caught in her throat noisily. I didn’t see her chest rise again.
“Holy shit,” said the teen boy. “Is she…?”
“I think so,” I said as I used the shelf beside me to pull myself up.
“We can’t just leave them,” huffed the woman who suggested checking for a pulse.
“Yes, you can. Bleeding and sudden death, in both of them,” I raised my voice, “is not something to mess with. It could be hemorrhagic fever, plague…something really bad.”
I looked at Karly, who gripped the arm of one of the store employees, whose badge said Marnie.
“We need to get home,” I said. I could hear the shakiness in my own voice.
“You can’t leave. The medics or cops might need to talk to all of us,” said Marnie the employee.
“Lady, sorry, but I’m not staying. I’ll leave my name and address and the cops can come find me.”
Karly shrugged away from the woman and awkwardly stepped around the two bodies and the pool of crimson blood until she was at my side again. “Poppy, maybe we should stay. Just until someone shows up to help.”
“Has anyone reached 911?” I asked, raising my voice enough for the others to hear. By now other customers were starting to fill the aisle and my sense of urgency to leave grew stronger. “Anyone?” I repeated myself.
No one answered.
“Let’s go,” whispered Karly as she tugged on my sleeve.
On our way to the front of the store, I grabbed a gallon of water and a bottle of apple juice from a shelf. Before we left, I placed a ten-dollar bill at the nearest register and used a pen to scribble my name and phone number on a piece of receipt paper.
Chapter Two
“We should head straight home,” Karly said as we crossed the parking lot to her truck.
“No. Stop for gas first. We should fill the tank.”
“Why?”
I looked sideways at her. “Just in case we need to leave the city. There’s something really wrong, Karly.”
I slid into the passenger seat, setting the bottles of water and juice on the floorboard. Karly stood outside the truck, likely thinking about what I had just said. Several yards away, a young mother carrying a toddler on her hip walked by. She was coughing into the crook of her arm and had to pause to catch her breath.
“Ma’am don’t go into the store! They had an accident in there,” Karly yelled to the woman.
“I need to get medicine for my baby,” I heard the mother yell back.
“There’s no power. And…and…someone died.”
As the woman processed what Karly had said, a small stream of blood trickled from her nose.
“Karly, get in. We need to get out of here. Now.”
She peeked down into the cab of the truck. “We can’t just leave them, Poppy.”
“Yes, we can. She’s sick and we don’t know what the hell this is.”
Karly stood again and called back to the woman. “Take your kid home. There’s something really bad going on. Two people collapsed dead in there and it might be contagious.”
My friend finally lowered herself into her seat and slammed the door as the woman called back, her words no longer intelligible from within the closed-up cab.
“Don’t open your window or turn on the fan until we get out of this busy area of town,” I said.
“Sure. What about getting gas?” Karly asked as she started the truck and put it into reverse.
“Hit the AM/PM on Oakes and Tenth. There’s usually not many people there and they take cash at the pumps. Hopefully their power’s still on so we can pump gas.”
We left the supermarket parking lot behind and merged onto the freeway at the nearest entrance.
“There’s not many cars out,” Karly observed.
“I noticed. There should be more on a holiday weekend.”
“You should put your seatbelt on.”
“Yes, Mom,” I said sarcastically as I strapped myself in.
“Look over there.”
I turned my head in the direction Karly was gazing. A fire burned in the distance.
“That’s really far away,” I said.
“I wonder what it is?”
“I don’t think I want to know, but it looks bad.”
I reached forward and turned the radio on. It was the vehicle’s original, and I hoped I could tune in the news on an AM channel. There was no need; the pop station Karly always kept it dialed to was streaming a live broadcast.
…National Security Risk has been upgraded to severe. You are urged to stay indoors and away from crowded public areas. Threats deemed credible have been verified by allied countries across Europe and Asia. The threat is believed to be biological in nature and considered imminent or already delivered. If you have any signs of fever, cough, vomiting, diarrhea, or difficulty breathing report your symptoms to your local relief unit by using any phone to dial *904. This announcement will continue to repeat…The National Security Risk has been upgraded to severe. You are urged to stay indoors and away from crowded public areas. Threats deemed credible have been verified by allied countries across Europe and Asia…
“Holy hell,” Karly mumbled. “Please say that’s a joke.”
I looked at my friend. Both of her hands clung tightly to the wheel and her knuckles were white.
“Those people back there in the store…and the Olesons…do you think they have whatever it is?”
“We have to assume that, Karly. At least for now. We need to stay aware. I think we should fill the tank and get home, and pack and leave.”
“Go where?” she asked. “And who would the fuck could have done this?”
“I’d guess ISIS, Al-Qaeda, or mother effing North Korea,” I said, lost in my own thoughts.
“You know it’s okay to just say the eff word.”
“Yeah I know.”
A car sped past us. I checked the speedometer in front of Karly. Sixty-five.
“Jesus, they must be going at least ninety-five!” Karly said.
The red two-set convertible made it about a hundred feet in front of us before swerving and crashing into the concrete median to the left. Instinctively I flinched and turned my head away as pieces of vehicle and body parts smattered the freeway in front of us. Karly swerved and hit the brakes hard, nearly rolling the truck. Eventually we stopped spinning, facing the opposite direction from which we came.
“Oh…God…” groaned my friend. “Oh God…Poppy…are you okay?”
Her voice was shaky. I forced my breathing to slow. “I…I…I think so,” I stammered.
“We have to go see if they’re hurt.”
“Kar, no. They’re not okay. There’s nothing we can do for them.”
She looked at me wi
th confusion etched into her face and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Maybe someone needs help…”
“No,” I interrupted. “They’re dead. They’re splattered all over the fucking freeway!”
I looked away from her as something large and black crashed into the front driver’s side. The force of the collision sent us spinning again and the overwhelming sound of metal tearing and shattering glass deafened me. Everything happened so fast that it was dizzying. My vision blurred, making it difficult to see. The cab of our truck appeared to be filling with smoke and my airbag lay in my lap half-way deflated. My right temple hurt, and I put my fingers to it. They came away covered in blood. My mind wasn’t processing correctly and for a moment I wasn’t sure where I was. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head. Blood had gotten into my eyes and with each blink things looked worse and worse. We were in the truck. Someone hit us. The scent of blood and gasoline was heavy in the air, burning my nose.
“Karly,” I said, suddenly remembering that my best friend had been driving. We were trying to get home. The warning on the radio. “Karly!” I yelled her name.
“Don’t move.” It was a deep voice I didn’t recognize.
I turned to my right, toward the voice, still confused.
“Can you move?” the man asked.
“Yeah, but my head hurts.”
“You have a pretty nasty gash on your forehead,” he said. “Can you wiggle your toes?”
I tested my toes and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Your door’s stuck and I can’t open it. I’m going to hand you my jacket and I want you to cover your head while I break the rest of the glass out. Do you understand?”
I nodded again. He handed me his lined flannel jacket and I quickly covered my head and face. The sound of glass breaking made me flinch. I could feel shards hitting the jacket and was glad he thought to protect my skin.
“Okay. Hand me the jacket.”
I suddenly found it difficult to perform such a simple task. My arms were shaking uncontrollably. I fumbled with it until he reached in and pulled the jacket off me. He draped it over the bottom edge of what had been the window and leaned in to unbuckle my seatbelt. I followed his hand with my eyes and noticed Karly slumped beside me. My breath caught in my chest as I realized her head lay on her shoulder unnaturally and one of her eyes hung loosely from its socket. Her face was slack, appearing deflated. Her beautiful mouth was now limp and contorted.
The Rotten Series (Book 1): Infection Page 1