The earlier, continual sounds of explosions, gunfire, and people screaming had faded into sporadic bouts of noise after leaving Steamboat Springs, Colorado. For hours, Cooper and Karla wound their way through the treacherous, twisty roads leading out of Steamboat toward Denver. Karla had been in a state of shock, alternating between crying and yelling while Cooper dodged stalled vehicles and mangled corpses.
The carnage surrounding him dimmed and faded out. Disturbing memories of how they ended up on the run for their lives filled Cooper’s vision. He leaned against the cold hood of the SUV and wept.
“Cooper? Honey, wake up! Somethin’s wrong.”
Every muscle in Cooper’s body ached from a long afternoon the day before hiking through the snow-covered trails. Even though Karla had a map they’d still managed to get turned around and ended up wandering for hours. By the time they arrived back at their vehicle, both of them were cold and exhausted.
Groaning, Cooper rolled over and snuggled closer to his wife’s warm body. He opened one eye and scanned the dark room, guessing it was close to dawn. “Go back to sleep, baby. We’re in the mountains. It’s probably a moose or deer foragin’ around outside. Maybe even a cougar out huntin’ for breakfast.”
Karla’s grip intensified on his arm. Her slender fingers dug into the flesh. “I know what animals sound like, Cooper Hollingsworth. They don’t scream like humans!”
The terror in his wife’s voice forced Cooper to open both eyes. Pulling Karla closer, assuming she was freaked out from a nightmare, he tried to offer comfort. His doubts about what she’d heard vanished the second several shrill, ear-piercing screams filled the dark bedroom. The screams sent chills up his spine. Cooper recognized the abject fear in the voices.
Fully awake, Cooper went into cop mode. He motioned for Karla to keep quiet while he eased out from under the covers. Padding across the cold hardwood, he reached the bookcase where his cell and gun sat. Snatching up his weapon, he moved over to peer out the window while simultaneously dialing 9-1-1.
“We’re sorry, all circuits are busy. Please try your call again later.”
Cooper heard the words in his ear from the robotic voice, yet they really didn’t register. All of his attention was on three women running through the parking lot. The new layer of snow and ice on the pavement made their attempts to flee a wasted effort. They slipped and slid across the ground. One of them fell and the remaining two scrambled to pick her back up.
The parking lot lights of the rental condos provided enough light for Cooper to see every detail. He recognized the girls from their long, bright red hair—the triplets named Margo, Margie, and Marie. They’d bumped into each other while unpacking their vehicles the day before.
The three young woman were celebrating their twenty-first birthdays in the awe-inspiring mountains of Steamboat Springs. The girls were beautiful, full of energy and spunk, and only a few inches shy of Cooper’s 6’1” frame. Even though Cooper was celebrating his anniversary with his lovely bride, he couldn’t help but admire their girls’ curves and sexy smiles while they carted overstuffed suitcases from their vehicle.
Margo mentioned in passing their boyfriends surprised them with the combined Christmas and birthday present of a week in the mountains. Margie had laughed and said the surprise was really on their men because they’d missed their flight from Boise and would have to drive in. Marie giggled while holding a box full of liquor, commenting about how the boys would miss out on ravishing their drunk girlfriends the first night.
Cooper wondered if the men chasing the girls were their boyfriends or just locals who decided to take advantage of three women alone.
Stepping away from the window, Cooper looked around for his clothes.
“What’s goin’ on, honey? Did you see anyone?” Karla whispered while turning the bedside lamp on.
“Looks like a major fallin’ out between the triplets and their dates. Stay here and keep tryin’ to call 9-1-1,” Cooper instructed while yanking on a pair of jeans and a coat. Sliding on his slippers, he continued. “I’m goin’ to help those girls. Seems like the boyfriends—”
“No! Oh, my God! Margo! Margie! Somebody help us!”
Double-checking the clip to make sure it was full, Cooper glanced over at Karla. Her big, green eyes were the size of saucers. Darting out of the bed, she made a beeline for her cell phone.
“Quit talkin’ and get! I’m on it,” Karla said, fingers already dialing.
“Give them code 10-17 and advise out-of-state law enforcement is on scene and armed. Don’t want them shootin’ me.”
Karla nodded while putting her robe on. Cooper turned and raced down the stairs. When he opened the front door, the cold mountain air slapped him in the face. How the girls were outside without coats on—and the men in only in their underwear—Cooper couldn’t fathom. He guessed the temperature hovered near zero.
Forcing himself to take even, calculated steps on the treacherous walkway, Cooper made it out to the parking lot. The first orange and yellow rays of the sun peeked over Mount Werner, but had yet to touch the valley, leaving Cooper to rely on his instincts while navigating in the dark. In the distance, the faint sound of yelling and the distinct pop pop pop of gunfire made Cooper’s skin prickle.
What the Hell is going on?
The screaming had stopped and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. Cooper’s heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline in overdrive as he rounded the corner of the building. He was sort of surprised none of the other vacationers were outside trying to help. He brushed the thought away, remembering he wasn’t in a small, southern town like Malvern. This was Colorado, and though Steamboat wasn’t a huge town, it was bigger than Malvern. Obviously, the big city mentality of “mind your own business” reigned supreme.
The bright lights cast from several security lamps in the parking lot guided Cooper’s way and allowed him a full visual of what was happening to Marie, Margo and Margie. All three girls were down. Their fire-engine red hair in stark contrast against the white snow. Two of the men seemed to be fighting with each other over one, and the remaining male had his head down on…
“No way!” Cooper whispered as his brain tried to comprehend the improbable scene. Raising his weapon, Cooper stopped about twenty yards away and planted his feet. “Police! Hands up and get away from them right now or I’ll shoot. This is your only warnin’.”
The man closest to him, the one with his face buried in the stomach of one of the triplets, raised his head. He turned toward the sound of Cooper’s voice. A sick feeling spread throughout Cooper’s chest. The movement was nothing near the fluid motions of a person. It reminded Cooper of several horror movies he’d watched with his kids—the kind filmed in a jumbled mash of shots where the monster lurched and shuddered with unnatural, inhuman steps.
Acid burned in Cooper’s stomach when he realized the man’s face was covered in blood. The wind shifted and the rank stench of bowels almost made him gag. Entrails hung from the man’s mouth and tendrils of steam from warm flesh surrounded his head. The man continued to chew while his hand shoveled more intestines into an already full mouth.
Cooper knew the girl was dead. No one could remain quiet while being eviscerated.
Or survive with and empty body cavity.
Without hesitating, Cooper fired. The bullet tore through the man’s chest, center mass, yet didn’t faze him in the least. The impact knocked him to the ground. Before Cooper could blink twice, the man was on his feet, making short order of the distance between them.
Motion to the right caught Cooper’s attention. The other two men stopped fighting, drawn to the sound of the gunshot. Stunned and in shock the bullet hadn’t killed the first man, Cooper shut out the crazy thoughts spinning through his mind. He pushed away the law-abiding cop, the one trained to diffuse a volatile situation with minimal force. Brushed off what the aftermath might be when the incident made the news—the kind filled with headlines about a rogue cop losing control and blowing holes in
innocent civilians.
Because something was very, very wrong with these men. Alarm bells rang in Cooper’s mind, warning him if he didn’t take out the three bastards, they’d continue to kill until someone else intervened.
While exhaling, he steadied his aim and fired again. The round pierced the space between the man’s eyes, blowing chunks of brain matter, skull, and gore as it exited the back. The body collapsed in midstride with a loud thump.
Turning his focus on the other two, who were less than ten feet away, Cooper didn’t hesitate. In less than two seconds, he took in every visual, auditory, and sensory input. The boys—no, things—were directly under the light in the parking lot. Cooper noticed a weird, bluish array of zigzagging lines all over their bodies. The coppery odor of blood filled the air.
A shudder of fear wracked Cooper’s body. There were no puffs of air streaming from their mouths, no rise and fall of their chests.
They weren’t breathing.
Both sets of hands were covered in red blood dribbling down their chins and onto their bare chests. One opened his mouth and hissed, almost like a pissed off cat. Each had the same, awkward gait the other had and Cooper noticed their eyes were solid black.
Acid? PCP? Something new? What kind of drug turns eyes black as coal and stops a person from breathing, yet allows them to keep moving? Even the sclera is dark! Like that matters, dumbass. They. Aren’t. Breathing.
“One more step and I’ll—”
The grumbling, guttural roar from both men made sweat burst from Cooper’s skin. Two quick, well-placed shots later, their halting advancement was over. All three men were down, dark rivulets of thick, mahogany-colored blood seeped from their wounds into the snow. A light groan from one of the girls made Cooper’s heart skip two beats.
Sidestepping the three dead men, Cooper went over to check on the girl. The other two were dead, ripped to pieces as though a horde of wild hogs tore them apart. He swallowed the burning stomach juices rumbling inside him.
He couldn’t tell which sister he was looking at because the girl’s face was gone. How she was still alive—at least enough to moan—made Cooper’s head spin.
Crouching next to her shredded and mangled body, Cooper knew she wouldn’t make it another two minutes. The amount of blood loss was staggering, and even if she was at a hospital and on an operating table, she stood no shot of surviving. Bubbles of blood oozed from the gaping wound in her neck. Cooper could see every one of her white teeth—including the back molars—since the skin and most of the flesh of her face had been torn off. Rather than let her die in the cold snow alone, Cooper reached out and took her frozen hand and squeezed.
“Go in peace. I got them. Go in peace,” Cooper whispered. Tears clouded his vision, thinking how close in age the girl was to his own kids. He would want someone to offer a warm hand and kind words to one of his children if ever—God forbid—in a similar situation. A memory of the last words his mother said to his father in the hospital popped into his mind. They seemed appropriate. “Let the angels come and take you away to a place where you’ll never hurt again.”
“What the hell did you do?”
Cooper jerked at the sound of a man’s voice behind him, raising his weapon. He let out a small sigh when he realized the kid—no older than eighteen—posed no threat. Other than holding a cell phone in front of him, the boy was unarmed. “That’s your contribution to this? Standin’ there filmin’? Why don’t you call for help instead of tryin’ to be the next YouTube star?”
“Screw you, old man. I’m not the one who just shot and killed three people in cold blood!”
Shaking his head, Cooper turned his attention back to the girl. Her entire body quaked then tensed up. With one, last burst of air, she was gone. Cooper recited the Lord’s Prayer in silence then stood. He glanced over at the kid with a wild mop of curly, black hair. He’d turned the camera on the corpses of the men. Irritated and ashamed of how the upcoming generation seemed more obsessed with making a name for themselves rather than helping a fellow human being in distress, Cooper came up behind the boy and snatched the cell phone.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“Never said it wasn’t. Keep your pants on, junior. Just need to call for help.”
“Won’t do you any good. Phones are out. Net is too. Power probably won’t be on much longer, either. Haven’t you been watching the news, old man?”
Ignoring the brash upstart, Cooper clicked over to the keypad and dialed 9-1-1. Just like earlier, he was greeted with the same message. “Shit!” He handed the phone back to the kid. “Where’s the nearest police station?”
“Like I know! I’m not from around here. I tried calling the cops before I came outside. Actually, I’ve been calling them for hours. Nothing happens but some weird recording. I heard gunshots so figured I’d at least get evidence of what was going on to give the police when they did arrive. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m a heartless fucker.”
Motioning for the kid to follow, Cooper walked away from the bodies and back toward the edge of the parking lot. He didn’t want either of them to contaminate the scene any more than what they already had. Glancing around to see if anyone came outside to investigate the sounds of gunfire, Cooper grimaced. No one appeared to be interested. “What’s your name, son?”
A flicker of distrust sparked behind dark blue eyes before he answered. “Mason Hall. Yours?”
“Cooper Hollingsworth, Chief of Police in Malvern, Arkansas.”
Mason cocked his head in curiosity. “You’re a cop? No wonder you’re such a good shot. You on vacation, too?”
“Yes, with my wife. You mentioned you’ve been callin’ the police for hours. Why?”
A look of sorrow flashed across Mason’s face. “My parents…never came back from town. They left last night to see a show. I’ve got a wicked case of altitude sickness and stayed here. I gave up calling them when their cells went straight to voicemail. I thought maybe they had an accident or something. That’s when I started calling 9-1-1. Then, I watched the news and changed my mind about them having a wreck.”
The dread in Mason’s voice put Cooper on guard. “You mentioned the news earlier—what did you mean?”
Mason put his phone back in his pocket and replaced it with a cigarette. He lit up and Cooper noticed his hands were shaking. “Man, I can’t believe you don’t know, being a cop and all.”
Frustrated and cold, Cooper’s temper flared. Just as he was about to give Mason Hall a piece of his mind, more gunfire broke the stillness of the morning, followed by faint screams. Cooper looked in the direction of the noise, cringing as the morning sun’s rays bounced off of plumes of dark, black smoke. Judging from the location, Cooper assumed it was from downtown Steamboat.
Gunshots? Screaming? Fires? Where’s the sirens? Where’s all the emergency personnel?
Tamping the rising fear back down, Cooper said, “Wife and I were hikin’ all day yesterday and into late evenin’. When we got back, we crashed. Made a rule about cell phones and TV—no watchin’, textin’, surfin’ the net—while on our vacation. So no, I missed the news. What’s goin’ on?”
The expression on Mason’s face shifted. Cooper could see the fear in his eyes. “Bio attack of some sort. People are dying in droves all over the world. President Thompson was in the middle of a news conference yesterday morning, talking about what the government would do in response. He gave a nice little speech until several reporters went all nuts and attacked each other. It was a bloodbath for several seconds until the transmission ended. The emergency broadcast service came on right after. Said everyone’s supposed to get to their local high schools for testing of some sort. Then bam! The screen went black and TV’s been out ever since. Not long after, the net went down, too.”
Before Cooper had a chance to digest the news or even respond, Karla appeared on the walkway. “Cooper? Cooper! You okay?”
“I’m fine, Karla. Any luck gettin’ through to the police?”
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“No. TV seems to be out, too and I—”
Karla’s comments were interrupted when the security lights went out.
“See? Told you the power’s next,” Mason muttered.
“Get back inside, Karla. Right now,” Cooper instructed. He grabbed Mason’s arm and tugged. “You too. Come inside with us.”
Mason didn’t offer up any resistance.
Once back inside the warm condo, Cooper ushered Karla and Mason into the living room. He addressed Karla first. “Honey, I need you to keep calm. Somethin’s wrong like you said, and Mason here is gonna share all the information he has about the situation with us. Right, Mason?”
Mason sank into the soft folds of the couch and nodded. Karla’s faced blanched. Cooper knew she sensed his own fear. Years of being the wife of a cop taught her to recognize dire situations.
“Mason? Start from the beginnin’ and tell us everythin’ you know. Don’t leave any details out. Okay?”
“If you really want to know what’s going on, watch this,” Mason answered. He held out his phone to Cooper. “I downloaded two videos from the news to my phone before the internet died. Just watch.”
Cooper took the phone with trepidation. Karla moved over behind him to view the screen as well. Taking a deep breath, Cooper’s other hand instinctively found Karla’s. By the time they finished watching the disturbing videos, Cooper was shaking and Karla was crying.
“Karla, how fast can you pack?” Cooper asked.
“Five minutes and we’re outta here,” Karla replied through her tears. She took the stairs two-at-a-time.
After handing Mason his phone, Cooper said, “Where’s home for you, Mason?”
“Phoenix.”
“You’re welcome to come with us. We could try to get you close to home.”
Tears glistened in Mason’s eyes as he shook his head. “I’m going to wait here in case my parents…”
Tainted Reality (The Rememdium Series Book 2) Page 17