The Rotten Series (Book 1): Infection

by Lewis, M. Lauryl

  The seats up front were set lower than the rest of the cabin, making it difficult to see through the windshield as we all crowded around.

  “How many?” asked Ellis.

  “Seven, all gathered in the middle. I don’t like the look of it. See on the left shoulder, the SUV that’s crashed?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t tell how bad it is.”

  “Look near the back bumper,” instructed Hazel. “There’s someone on the ground.”

  “I see them,” I said. “They just moved. I swear they moved.”

  Near the back bumper but in front of the tires, a pair of feet stuck out awkwardly.

  “Mike, can you aim the spotlight over there?” asked Hazel.

  “Already on it.”

  Mike rolled down his window and reached out, manually moving a spotlight mounted on the metal frame above the window. In short order, a strong beam of yellow lit the roadway near the wrecked vehicle. Before long, it settled on the person I had seen move. As badly as I wanted to look away, my eyes were locked on what had been hiding in the dark. The legs were detached from the body’s upper half. Two crouched figures looked back at us, pausing only momentarily before returning to what they were doing. Their faces were covered in blood, their hair disheveled, and their eyes seemingly unseeing. They looked sick and animalistic in their movements. One leaned down and bit a piece of flesh from the severed lower half. As it did, the pair of twisted feet jumped slightly.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” moaned Hazel. She slid past me and Ellis, barely making it to the small sink in time. The smell of her vomit quickly permeated the small RV, making my stomach roil.

  “What the fuck?” asked Mike.

  “They’re dead,” I said quietly.

  “They’re eating it,” said Ellis. “Mike, turn the light off.”

  “Yeah,” was all Mike said in reply.

  “Wait. Oh God, he’s still alive,” I moaned.

  The men both looked at me like I was crazy.

  “The other half of the man. He’s down the road just at the edge of the light beam.” I looked away, too sickened by the thought of someone being torn in half and still alive.

  “What the holy mother fuck,” whispered Mike.

  I forced my eyes open and turned back to the open window that overlooked the crash scene. The torso of the man ended somewhere below his nipples. His ribs poked out from his raw flesh. Loops of bowel spilled onto the roadway, mixing with fragments of cloth, rocks, roadway dirt, and blood. One of his arms was severed below the elbow. He used the bloody stub of his arm in a desperate attempt to pull himself forward.

  “He can’t possibly still be alive,” I moaned.

  “We need to help him,” said Hazel as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. I hadn’t noticed she’d returned to the cab.

  “No one’s going out there. There’s no helping him; those injures aren’t fixable. He’s only still living out of instinct and adrenaline. I doubt he knows what hit him or what’s going on,” said Mike.

  Hazel whimpered and looked away. I watched her as she sat on the floor, making sure she wasn’t going to pass out. Eventually I looked back toward the dying man. He’d managed to move several inches, his guts trailing behind him. It appeared that he was making his way toward his own severed legs, where the two sick people continued to rip chunks of flesh from his dead lower half.

  “He’s gray,” I whispered.

  “He’s got to have lost most of his blood. He’ll be gone any second,” said Ellis. I supposed he was trying to comfort me.

  A chill ran up my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned against the seat in front of me.

  As each second passed, I waited for the torso to stop moving. Instead, it got closer to the rest of its body, where two others feasted on his other half. The other two creatures slowly sat upright and stared at the approaching torso. One snarled before returning to its feast. The other backed away, its mouth and hands full of bloody strings and chunks of flesh.

  “What the hell is going on?” asked Ellis.

  “There’s no way he’s still alive. It’s not possible,” echoed Mike.

  “Shoot them,” said Hazel suddenly.

  “It’s not that easy,” said Mike. He sounded irritated. Or maybe it was fear.

  “Let’s just drive around them. I wanna fucking get out of here,” said Ellis.

  “Our alternate cache is closest; we should head there and pack up what we can. It’s close to the old coal mine by Oso so if we need to hole up there for a while, we can.”

  “That has my vote,” said Hazel.

  “I dunno man, the bunker’s way more secure. It has supplies and the air and water filter systems,” said Mike.

  “Whatever you guys decide, you might want to just drive,” I interrupted forcefully.

  They all followed my gaze to the rest of the people that had gathered in the middle of the road. They were all facing the motorhome, staring at us. Their eyes were void of life and all of them had skin the same shade of gray as the torso. Blood smeared their faces and arms and a few of them were naked.

  “What the fuck,” said Mike under his breath.

  “I’m locking the side door,” whispered Hazel.

  “I’ve got the cab,” said Mike.

  “Close the window,” I whispered.

  The night grew unnaturally quiet as the things in the road continued to stare our way.

  “Ellis do you have your gun ready just in case?” asked Hazel.

  “Yeah.”

  Mike reached out the window, doing his best to move slowly and quietly. He clicked the spotlight off, and as he let go of it something clanged against the side of the RV. The sun was just barely touching the sky, adding the faintest bit of daylight to the roadway. The creatures in the road launched forward as soon as they heard the metallic sound. Mike used a few harsh words as he quickly pulled his arm inside. He rolled his window up hurriedly. The face of one of the sick people slammed against the just-shut window. It snarled and clawed at the glass, as if desperate to gain entry. Blood and mucus coated anywhere its flesh met the pane.

  “Go…” groaned Hazel. “Get us the hell out of here!”

  Mike put the motorhome into drive and stepped on the gas. The front bumper collided with some of the monsters who feverishly clawed at the front of the RV. Feeling dizzy, I lowered myself into the empty passenger seat, next to Mike. Hazel and Ellis sat on the floor behind us.

  “I’m not fucking stopping for anyone,” announced the driver. “That back there was messed the fuck up.”

  “We need to get off the main roads, and away from people,” said Ellis matter-of-factly.

  “Is there an AF/FM radio in here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s built-in, inside the glove box. Go ahead and turn it on, just not too loud,” Mike said as he briefly looked sideways at me.

  I opened the glove box and moved some old tissues and pens out of the way of the radio face. I quickly found the volume knob and turned it clockwise, knowing it would turn the power on. It was an old-style radio, so as I turned the tuner knob I went slowly hoping to pick up news of some sort. I was met with static.

  “Try AM,” said Hazel. “They usually have the emergency broadcasts.”

  I left my gaze on the other woman for a few moments. She looked pale and as if she might throw up again. I returned my focus to the radio and pushed the AM/FM button. Within a few moments of slowly going through the tuner, voices came through. They sounded distant and argumentative.

  “Okay Bob, but how do you explain the calls that came in? They all describe the same thing. People sick with this die and they come back alive!” It was a woman’s voice.

  “Marissa, you know the dead don’t come back. You’re an intelligent woman. Think about it…”

  “You saw the film! How can you say that’s not what’s going on?”

  “Because they’re sick, not dead.”

  “They are too! You’re so damn thick headed. He had been dead for
hours and was in rigor. No heartbeat, blue, D-E-A-D, Bob! Fucking dead! You saw him get up and tear into that man’s throat with his bare hands!”

  “Break in, Tad, break in! Get them off the air!” yelled a distant voice.

  Screaming took over; an agonizing sound of intense pain intermingled with heart rending pleas for help.

  Glass shattering was the last thing we heard before the station fell silent. I turned the power off before sitting back to contemplate the horrors we heard.

  “What the fuck is going on?” asked Hazel, clearly unable to keep rising hysteria from her voice.

  “I’m heading back toward I-5,” said Mike.

  “Too crowded,” answered Ellis. He sounded defeated.

  “We have to get off the road,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  “What?” asked Ellis.

  “We have to get off the road,” I said, speaking up enough to be heard. “Whatever those things are, there’s going to be more of them.”

  “She’s right,” said Hazel. “We need to get inside somewhere secure and figure things out once we’re safe.”

  “Where?” asked Ellis.

  “I think we should head back the way we came. I can turn us around up ahead.”,” suggested Mike.

  He was met with silence. Mike slowed once the roadway straightened and carefully backed the motorhome around in the roadway before continuing in the direction from which we had come only minutes before. No one asked him where he planned to go. Before long we passed the accident scene, where the top half of the severed body continued to gnaw on his own legs. I turned away, shakily stood, and slowly made my way back to the sleeping area. I sat on the edge of the couch and held my head in my hands.

  “Hey, you okay?” asked Ellis.

  I looked up at him. “Not really. I’ve gone from getting ready for a BBQ with my best friend, who’s dead on a roadway somewhere with her fucking brains splattered all over the pavement, and the fucking dead are coming back to life. No. No, I’m not okay.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been hell for all of us.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Do you know where Mike’s taking us?”

  “No. I don’t think he’s in the mood for questions right now.”

  He sat next to me and took my hand in his. It was warm and felt strong, if not a bit awkward.

  “Try to get some rest.”

  “I can’t sleep. Not after seeing that.”

  “I get it.”

  I looked at him in the darkness of the RV. He looked haggard and worried.

  “I’m sorry about your great-grandmother.”

  He hung his head and let go of my hand.

  “She was a very old lady. She lived a good life,” he muttered before he placed his hand on my thigh and stood. “I’m gonna talk to Mike and try to go figure out where we should go.”

  He walked away; I curled up on my side and pulled the blanket over myself. I ignored the musty smell that mingled with the barf from Hazel and tried not to vomit all over myself.

  Chapter Five

  “Wake up,” someone whispered.

  My eyes instantly flew open. Hazel. She was standing over me, her eyes wide.

  “Stay quiet. We’ve stopped at an elementary school. Mike’s trying to pick the lock on a back door, but one of those things is wandering around the parking lot.”

  I threw the covers back and sat up. “How do you know it’s…one of them?” I asked.

  “I can just tell.”

  I stood up and followed her into the main sitting area. Ellis was looking out the window above the kitchenette sink. Daylight was beginning to stream in. I walked up behind him to peer over his shoulder.

  “Where is it?” I asked in a whisper.

  “By that shed over there. See where the chain link fence meets at that brick wall, there’s a corkscrew willow tree?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s behind the tree. It’s like it has no idea which direction it should walk.”

  “You’re sure it’s not…alive? One of us?”

  “Positive.”

  I waited for him to explain, but he remained quiet, never taking his eyes from the tree.

  “How do you know?” I finally asked.

  “Because it’s barefoot, wearing pajama pants and no shirt, and has a fucking hole through its chest,” he explained.

  “Oh. God. I can hardly believe what’s happening.”

  He finally turned to look at me. His gaze made me feel like he thought I was the most ignorant person in the world.

  “Hey, get out here,” came Mike’s voice.

  “What did you find?” asked Ellis.

  “I got the door unlocked, but it’s not pretty. I think we’d be safest to park the RV in front of the door, cause it’s not locking again anytime soon. We get inside, and for right now make our way to a more secure part of the building. It should be empty unless there was a janitor or someone on duty, but let’s take it slow and keep alert.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” said Hazel.

  “Everyone grab your bug out bags. We need to keep our supplies with us,” instructed Ellis. “Mike, want me to pull the RV up to the door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Guys,” I said. No one answered me. “Guys,” I repeated.

  “What is it?” asked Mike, clearly irritated. I was pretty sure he disliked me.

  “The guy with a hole in his chest. He’s walking this way, and he’s not alone.”

  Ellis rushed to my side to look out the window. Along with the man who’d been shot were a young child still in pajamas and another man who sported a tattered business suit. They all were covered in what I assumed was blood. I knew they were all…inhuman…by the way they shambled across the parking lot.

  “Mike, we need to get rid of them, so they don’t see us going inside,” said Ellis.

  “I can shoot them,” Mike said.

  “No. It’s too loud.”

  “Let me go out,” I said, interrupting them. “I’ll draw them away.”

  “That’s insane. You’ve seen what they can do,” said Hazel.

  “She’s right,” agreed Ellis.

  “No, seriously, I can do it. I’ve been running since seventh grade, and I’m probably faster than you,” I said.

  “I don’t like it,” said Ellis.

  “Let her go if she wants,” scoffed Mike. “It’s her death wish.”

  I disliked him more with each passing moment.

  “Mike!” scolded Hazel. “What a horrible thing to say; she’s trying to help us. Quit being such an asshole!”

  As the trio began arguing about what I should or should not do, I backed toward the exit door of the RV. Before they had a chance to realize what I was doing, I opened the door and ran. Ellis and Hazel both called after me, but I didn’t look back. The three monstrosities quickly took notice of me and wasted no time changing direction to pursue me. I didn’t dare take time to mull over my next action, for fear of chickening out. My best plan was to run like hell, which is just what I did - run. The building was a single-story brick face, and long. Much longer than it had seemed from inside the motorhome. It had been a few years since track and field in high school, where I earned several gold medals in sprinting. Long distance wasn’t my favorite, likely because I sucked at it. As I ran, my footfalls were too loud and seemed to cause the dead to quicken their pursuit. Their growls intensified. I dared to steal a glance over my shoulder to make sure they were indeed following me. They were much closer than I expected, and quickly closing in on me. I looked forward and pushed my muscles harder, propelling me onward and toward the end of the building.

  When I rounded the corner, my stomach dropped. A tall chain link fence cut me off from making any further progress. A backpack and its contents lay scattered on the ground near a green dumpster and next to it a sleeping bag. By its fullness, I assumed it was a homeless person just trying to make it from one day to the next. While I wanted to call out to him, or her, I knew doing so would mea
n certain death for whoever it was. The creatures behind me would soon be upon me. In a moment of shame, I considered leaving whoever it was, knowing they’d have no chance. My options were limited. Climb the fence or climb the dumpster. My heart pounding, I glanced back one more time. I smelled them just before I saw them round the corner: the nose-burning odor of burnt hair and meat along with feces. I was out of time. I looked back to the sleeping bag. It was along the fence, so I’d have to step near it. If it was a homeless person, I’d lead the trio straight to them. It might buy me some time to climb. My stomach churned at the thought, and I looked back toward the creatures before darting toward the dumpster. The front edge was low enough for me to grab onto, and I pulled myself upward as fast as I could. I knew it wasn’t going to be tall enough to keep the horrid things away for long. I looked down as four pale arms stained with blood reached up; the child was too short. That little girl’s face is something I’d not soon forget. She couldn’t have been more than three years old and wore footed pajamas; they were red with black pawprints printed all over them. Her long auburn hair covered one of her eyes, but she made no attempt to move it. Blood smeared from her left cheek down to her neck. Her eyes were vacant. As she reached up trying to get to me, her small plump mouth snarled. It was perhaps the first time I had experienced true soul-engulfing-fear. The two men moaned and clawed at the edge and sides of the dumpster.

  “God, this was a stupid idea,” I whispered to myself.

  I looked over toward the chain link fence to assess my chances of jumping and getting to it before the creatures below got to me. It seemed unlikely. The sleeping bag below moved as if someone inside was rolling over and my breath caught in my chest. I didn’t want to watch whomever it was get attacked.

  “Who’s there?” called a gruff female voice that slurred awkwardly.

  The creatures momentarily looked in the direction of the sleeping bag, but quickly turned their attention back to me.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” asked the woman, who was now sitting up with her legs still inside the bag. “Stupid kids! Get the hell outta here. This is my place! I was here first,” she hissed.

  By the way her voice slurred, I surmised she was under the influence of something.