by Crae, Edward
This is Martin Patterson, wishing you a safe and comfortable journey into the future.”
“Cool,” Drew said. “Technology rocks.”
Dan scoffed. “If only they could get the power back on.”
There was a notification icon in the lower right corner, showing that his previous post had gotten a few replies. He clicked it.
The first reply was from AbdullahFeyr:
That is a disturbing find, friend. It had never occurred to me that the floaters could be egg sacs. Previously being a med student, my training in biology never prepared me for this kind of strange life form. I have never seen a floater, but you’re right, it must be some kind of dispersal system for the pathogen. Once the host becomes infected with the orange mist pathogen, it can mutate inside them into various forms. I don’t know why or how it takes on different characteristics depending on the host, however. That remains a mystery; just as much a mystery as what the pathogen actually is, or where it came from.
The fact that the Lysol seemed to kill the spores/eggs is interesting. This may indicate that there is a cure, or at least a vaccine. At least for the floater strain. I do worry that the infection may have spread to you. Please keep me posted if you experience any ill effects. You may add me to your friend list.
Thank you for posting the photos. They are incredibly valuable to those of us who are studying this plague.
May Allah (PBUH) watch over you and your friend.
“Hmm,” Dan said. “Seems like a nice guy. He’s a doctor, too. At least, he was going to be.”
“Strahd71 replied, too,” Drew pointed out.
Not good. Those pictures are really disturbing. It looks like there’s another, unknown strain going around with some other effects. No one has seen any of these floaters up close, so we don’t even know if the spores they carry are the same as what all the infected are carrying. We could be dealing with multiple infections.
If you see me online, click me. I got some interesting private news.
Dan moved his mouse pointer to the right side of the screen, scrolling through the names of online users. Jake’s handle had a green dot next to it. He clicked it, bringing up the chat window.
He typed: Hey buddy!
A few seconds later, the camera icon appeared, making the connection. Jake’s big, smiling face appeared.
“Dan, Dan, the man with the plan,” Jake said.
“Hey, Jake,” he pulled Drew over. “This is Drew.”
Jake waved his hand. “Hey Drew,” he said. “Nice job chopping the Stalker’s head off.”
Drew grinned. “It was nothin’,” he joked. “Do it all the time.”
Jake chuckled, reaching over to grab something. He held up a military-style meal packet the size of a cassette tape. Dan recognized it from his trips to the surplus store.
“This is all we have to eat now,” Jake said. “We’re running out of supplies quick. The army guys here are sharing their MREs, but we’re going through them quickly. It looks like we’ll have to relocate.”
“Fuck, man,” Dan said. “To where?”
Jake shook his head. “Don’t know, brutha. But they want us to stick together. I have a different opinion, but it’s hard to argue with guys with guns.”
“Will they let you go out alone?” Drew asked.
“Sure, they just insist that we stick together. Some people have left in small groups, but no one has gone out alone. Even those groups had a set destination, though, and an escort.”
“Any way you can make it down here?” Dan asked. “It’s pretty far, but the roads should be okay. I think the mercs are centered around the larger cities. We’ve seen them around here, but they were looking for specific people, I think.”
“Yeah,” Drew added. “As far as they know, this street is abandoned now. I don’t think they’ll be back.”
Jake thought for a moment, turning his head to the side and tapping his fingers on the desk. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, finally. “In the meantime, anything going on?”
“Well,” Dan said, looking at Drew, “we just encountered a serial killer.”
“Oh?” Jake said, intrigued. He smiled, leaning in closer. “Do tell.”
Dan related the story, telling him of the killing room—which seemed to bring a smile to Jake’s face—and the chained up, infected woman. Drew flipped through the notebooks, showing Jake some of the sketches, and the stalking entries. Jake was amazed, and a little amused. He shook his head in disbelief and shock—maybe a little more enthusiastically than was necessary.
“That is some seriously fucked up shit,” Jake said. “You dodged a bullet on that one. Or, should I say a chainsaw. Man, a post-apocalyptic serial killer. But hey, why not? Who’s gonna care, right?”
“I suppose,” Dan agreed. “What did you think of the floater photos?”
Jake shook his head again. “I’m still pretty miffed about that,” he said. “Not sure why the infection would need a method like that to spread. It’s been spreading just fine through bites.”
“The Lysol seemed to kill whatever was left,” Dan said. “So I’m thinking it’s some kind of fungus, maybe?”
“I don’t know man,” Jake said. “That might be, but most of the doctors say that the original infection was some kind of virus. This new thing, though… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a method of making it airborne. Who knows? There’s all sorts of crazy shit going on. Did you read about the climber that the kid posted about?”
“Yeah, I saw that. That was really freaky.”
Drew chimed in. “I saw a video just like that several years ago,” he said. “It was in Russia, I think. Same shit. There was a weird, really skinny thing crawling on the side of a building. Could be related maybe.”
“Related to each other, yes, but maybe not to the infection. He’s the only one who has posted anything about it, other than the kid in Russia. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the infection.”
Drew stood up. “Need a beer?”
Dan nodded. “Jake, try to leave. You can come here. Maybe we can sneak out and pick you up somewhere.”
“Hmm,” Jake replied, thinking. “How far north can you go?”
“Maybe Lafayette,” Dan said. “As long as we stay far from Indy, we should be okay.”
Drew came back, handing Dan a beer and plopping down again, cracking his open.
“I may be able to get someone to drop me off there,” Jake said. “Some people are planning to go to Danville in Illinois. Maybe I can have them drop me off there.”
“Drop you off?” Drew said. “That’s nuts. What if we don’t make it? You’ll be standing there on a street corner.”
Jake chuckled. “Yeah, that would suck.”
“Find an old phone book and pick out a place to meet,” Dan said. “Then message me when you find out when the group is leaving.”
Jake nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I think they’re leaving tomorrow morning, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know for sure.”
“Okay, brutha,” Dan held up his fist. “Peace out.”
Jake mirrored the gesture, and the connection was cut. Dan turned to Drew, raising his beer and clicking it to his. “Ready for a road trip?”
“Always,” Drew replied.
Chapter Eleven
Dan stumbled out of bed the next morning, his head pounding with the after effects of almost a half a bottle of whiskey. He usually didn’t have hangovers, being a chronic alcoholic, but lately his drinking had been minimal. He had simply lost a little tolerance.
No worries; a couple of Vicodin would do the trick.
Drew was snoring on the couch with Pauli curled up next to him. The dog was lying on his back with his legs sticking up in the air, as if he too had passed out. Drew’s arm was around him, and the dog snored right into his face. Dan grinned as he passed.
He sat down at his laptop, rubbing his eyes as he waited for it to boot up. Pauli wandered over, looking up with those goblin eyes. D
an reached down to scratch his head.
“Good morning, sir,” he said. Pauli wagged his stumpy tail, scurrying off to hide.
The bulletin board was the same as it was the night before, with the exception of the message icon in the lower right. Dan clicked it, seeing that it was a response from Jake.
Looks like the group is ready to leave around noon. It will take about an hour and a half to get to Lafayette. They’ll drop me off at the Wallyworld there. I’ll be armed, so no worries.
Dan looked at the clock. Ten thirty-eight. It would also take them around the same amount of time to get there. He wasn’t sure where the Wallyworld was, but knew that Drew spent quite a bit of time in Lafayette. He would probably know.
He typed out his response, letting Jake know that they would be there—in a Hummer. He then sat back, contemplating what supplies to take on the trip. There was plenty of canned food, ammo, and beer—can’t forget the beer. They would take the Hummer, and load it up with whatever else they found on the road.
“Jesus Christ,” Drew said from behind him.
Drew rolled off the couch, going to the deck to grab a beer for his hangover. “Man,” he growled. “I need to go back to wine. You’re a bad influence.”
Dan chuckled. “Jake will be in Lafayette around one thirty,” he said. “Wallyworld. You know where it is?”
Drew thought for a second. “Yeah. No problem.”
“I was thinking about the paint job on the Hummer,” Dan said. “We should probably cover the Gephardt symbol, maybe paint over it. I have a shit ton of spray paint in the garage.”
Drew nodded, chugging his beer. “We should let the horses out, maybe. Let ‘em wander around the yard. If they run away, they run away. I just don’t want them trapped in the kennel in case a horde comes.”
“You know,” Dan said. “We haven’t been using them, anyway. I really just wanted to make sure they weren’t trapped in that stable. So, yeah, we’ll let ‘em out. If they stay, great. If not, they’ll find somewhere to go. Maybe Shirley will bake an apple pie and they’ll sniff her out.”
Drew yawned and stretched, lighting a cigarette. “Alright, let’s paint some pretty shit on that Hummer and get going.”
After gathering several bottles of water and some food for the road, Dan let the horses out. Drew opened the garage door, and began collecting spray paint. Dan showed him the stash, where there were numerous cans of black, green, tan, light green, and white paint.
Their first task was to cover up the Gephardt logo. It took one nice black square to conceal it. That was easy. Now they had to unofficialize it to make it look not-so-Gephardt-like. They each took a color, shaking up the cans, and randomly sprayed. Though it looked ridiculous at first, the more paint they swirled around on the surface, the more it looked like camouflage. It was a mixture of urban and woodland camo that was actually aesthetically pleasing.
“That looks fuckin’ good,” Drew said. “It looks like it’s ready to charge into battle.”
Dan stepped back, nodding as he admired their work. “Too bad the world went to shit,” he joked. “We could jobs on the paint line at NORAD.”
Drew chuckled. “Fucking NORAD.”
“Alright, I’ll lock up the house,” Dan said. “Grab anything you think we might need.”
They loaded up their equipment, several rifles, and a shit ton of ammo. Dan had brought the Barrett, his Robar, and two M4A1s. Drew packed the two Glocks in the glove compartment, took his shotgun, and a six pack of beer.
“Just in case,” he said.
The remainder of their arsenal was already in the Hummer; a few grenades, the LAW, and several ammo boxes. They were set. All that was missing was their traveling companion.
“C’mon, Pauli,” Dan said, opening the driver’s side door.
The pug hopped in the cab, taking a seat on Drew’s lap and leaning his front paws against the dashboard. Dan pulled out of the garage, and got out to close and lock the door. He took one last look at the horses, making sure they were alright, and got back in.
“Let’s roll,” he said.
The Hummer was surprisingly peppy, shooting over the gravel like it was nothing. Dan hadn’t noticed how overgrown the road was becoming, but even the thick weeds were no match for the vehicle’s four wheel drive badassery. He even cut across the creek to make the trip to the highway a little quicker. The Hummer ground right over it like it was nothing more than a set of railroad tracks.
“I fucking love this thing,” Dan said.
“It’s like a tank,” Drew laughed. “Fucking stellar.”
Drew turned right on 37, heading toward Martinsville. “We’ll take 39 to 74,” he said. “Then we’ll take the back roads the rest of the way. I wanna avoid Indy as much as possible.”
“Good idea.”
The highway was strange-looking. Though it never had much traffic to begin with, the fact that it was completely deserted was odd. There were empty cars on the side of the road, spaced randomly, and the number of them increased as they went north. They would have to pass through the west side of Martinsville, where there would be more cars, obviously, and possibly some shufflers or shamblers wandering the streets. Thankfully, Drew had said that the mercs were mostly concentrated on the east side near the flea market.
They wouldn’t pass too close to that side.
Dan took the exit to 39, using his turn signal for some reason. He looked over to Drew, who half-grinned at him. Dan shrugged. Pauli continued his navigation stance, staring out the window with his tongue hanging out.
“If we get lost, Pauli will get us where we need to go,” Dan said.
Pauli looked at him, then back to the road. They rounded the exit ramp, turning onto the main stretch of 39 that went through town. Dan spotted the veterinarian’s office on the left, and slowed down.
“We have time,” he said. “I’m pulling in. I bet they have some shit we might need.”
“Alright,” Drew said. “I’ll stay with Pauli. Grab some dog food if they have it.”
Dan parked near the door, strapping on his M4A1, and got out, leaving the Hummer running. The front door of the office was locked, telling Dan that it had not been looted. That was a good thing. He busted out a small square of glass and reached in to unlock the door. The office was cold, and his breath showed as he exhaled.
Keeping the rifle trained ahead of him, he crept down the hallway. He could smell the dried shit and rotted flesh of caged pets that were left behind. He ignored it, not wanting to look. He didn’t care that much for pets, but knew the sight of animals that had starved to death in their cages would be distracting.
The pharmacy was located in the rear. The door was unlocked and open just wide enough to see that the room was still well kept. No one, not even the employees, had done any looting. Bottles of medication lined the three shelves on the back wall. There were steroids, allergy meds, flea and heartworm pills, and four bottles of tramadol; an artificial opiate.
“Hmm,” Dan said. “Rainy day.”
He swept the tramadol into his bag, and turned to exit. As he passed the kennels, he heard a low hiss that froze him in his tracks. He listened for a moment as his heartbeat quickened and his skin moistened with fear. He heard the hiss again, and bolted for the exit, knocking over everything in his path.
Drew stood leaning against the bumper as Dan burst through the door.
“Did you get foo-“
“Get in!” Dan shouted, throwing the bag and his rifle in the back seat.
Drew opened his door, hopping in. “What’s going on?”
“Stalkers,” Dan said, throwing the Hummer in reverse and peeling out in the parking lot.
Drew looked back as Dan squealed into a left turn back onto the street. “Well, fuck,” he said. “Are we just gonna leave them there?”
“Yep,” Dan said, speeding toward the next exit.
He could see Drew nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye. If he objected, he’d get over it. There was n
o way Dan was about to go up against a horde of mutant kitties and puppies. Cute or not, they were now monsters; all of them.
Dan turned onto the exit, bringing them to route 39, which would connect to 74 eventually. This stretch of road would be out of the range of the larger cities, and they could get to Lafayette in peace; he hoped.
He pulled out his MP3 player, handing it to Drew. Maybe some tunes would ease the mood. Drew fished the audio cable out of his pocket, plugging the little player into the Hummer’s stereo. It had an aux jack; presumably for official podcasts. In a few seconds, Drew was flipping through Dan’s music library.
“Man,” he said. “I’ve never even heard of half these bands.”
Dan chuckled. “I hate American metal,” he said. “It sucks. Most of it anyway.”
“Ah,” Drew exclaimed triumphantly. “A Band of Orcs.”
As the crunching death metal blasted into existence, Dan put the pedal to the floor. It was a straight shot now, no need for careful driving. He bobbed his head to the tunes, thinking back at the poor cat that he had let into his house. If its emergence from the cocoon was any indication of what could happen at the vet’s office, fleeing was the best choice. The cat’s screeching had attracted not only a small horde of shufflers and shamblers, but a large, human stalker, too.
He had no desire to fight another one of those; nor another horde, for that matter.
Chapter Twelve
Lafayette, like most towns, was in ruins. Even after such a short time since the comet, the survivors and the infected had torn it to pieces. It was quite obvious that heavy weapons—possibly bombs—had been used by who knows who. Gephardt had probably been here, as well as the National Guard at some point. Fires burned in the distance, filling the sky with thick blankets of smoke. Dust and debris blew in the wind, and the taller buildings that they could see were gutted and skeletal against the haze.