Glory (Book 1)

by Michael McManamon

  "Everything will be okay. This must be some kind of a mistake."

  "Whatever it is, we have to go!"

  She pulled again. This time her mother hit Claire's hands away.

  "No! This is your father.My husband. We can't just leave. We won't. Wewon't!"

  Claire didn't know what to do. She wanted to slap her mother out of it.That's what they did in the movies. But she would never be able to hit her mother, even if the womanwas being ridiculous.

  She bent down again and looked her mother in the eyes. It had been difficult to do. Her mother kept looking around the room, focusing on the television (the screen that had turned black) and then her husband (still motionless beside her,maybe dead). Claire put her hands on her mother's cheeks and directed the woman's distressed face directly in front of her own.

  "Listen to me, mother," she said with a growing urgency in her voice. "We have to go. Something has happened. Something..."

  She had heard a noise come from behind her. Claire turned around and saw her brother, Peter, standing in the doorway. He looked angry. Claire knew immediately that he had also been affected.

  "Get up now!"

  She shook her mother. The woman had seen her son.

  "It's your brother, Claire. He's come to help us. He's..."

  Claire's brother let out a huge roar. Then he gritted his teeth and began swinging his arms wildly in every direction.

  Claire tried pulling her mother up once more. She knew that her mother wasn't going to move.

  "Please, mom," she tried again, pleading. "Come with me."

  It was too late.

  Claire's brother charged into the room and attacked the two women. Claire had been able to move away. Her mother didn't even try. Instead, she put out her arms as though to embrace her son. Claire saw a smile on her mother's face as her brother pounced.

  "Come here, Peter," her mother said softly. "Everything's okay now. Come here."

  Claire's brother ran quickly and fell into his mother's embrace. But it hadn't been to hold his mother or return the affection. It had been to attack.

  Claire watched as her brother opened his mouth and bit deeply into their mother's neck. The mother didn't seem to mind. She kept smiling as her son ripped out her veins. Blood spattered against the mother and son. He continued to bite.

  Claire ran out of the room. It had been too late to do anything for her mother this time. The woman was dead. Her brother had killed her.

  She quickly made her way down the hallway and ran out of the house. Not knowing where she was going. Not caring.

  Without thinking, she slammed the door behind her. It had been that sound which had gotten her brother's attention. She kept looking over her shoulder, back at the house.

  Within seconds, the back door opened. Peter was standing there, covered in blood -their mother's blood.

  Claire turned around and continued to run. Her brother quickly followed.

  *

  Now she was deep into the forest. She didn't know where she was headed, but she had to keep going. Her mind was racing. She needed to think about what to do next. She couldn't keep this up much longer.

  She ran through the trees. Nearly tripped. Managed to keep her balance.

  Her brother screamed. He was getting closer.

  Where could she go?

  Immediately, she thought of the gas station out by the highway. It wasn't too far away. If she could get there, she may be able to get inside and lock her brother out. It was the best plan.

  It was theonlyplan.

  Claire slightly changed her direction to head toward the gas station. She hoped that she might be able to lose her brother before she got there, even though she didn't think it was likely. She could hear him still behind her.

  She ran.

  The minutes passed slowly. She was starting to lose her breath. She could feel her heartbeat pounding heavily in her chest.

  A tree branch scraped across her face. It just missed her eye, but cut her deeply nonetheless.

  She kept running.

  Another branch scratched her face. Then another.

  She couldn't stop.

  Her brother was closer now. She could hear his breathing. It sounded like panting. Like a vicious dog.

  When she came into a clearing, she could see the gas station right in front of her. She only had a little further to go.

  She ran. Her brother followed.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw him run out of the forest. Then she turned back to the gas station.

  As she came upon it, she could feel her hopes rising. She was almost there. Almost safe.

  She ran faster, her feet on gravel now. She could hear it crunch underneath her weight. She needed to get to the front door.

  She rounded the corner. But, as she did, her feet slipped on some gravel and she fell heavily onto the ground. The whole of her weight came crashing to the ground. She skidded to a stop.

  It was then that her brother came back into view. He was only a short distance away.

  She tried to push herself up, but was too weak. She had hurt herself too badly. She was too exhausted.

  Her brother came closer. She could see the blood spattered across his face. She could see his teeth, hear him growling. She could see the anger in his eyes.

  He screamed again and raised his fists into the air. She knew that he was going to pounce. And there wasn't much she could do about it. She wasn't going to get away.

  She wasn't going to give up either. She'd fight him. No matter how hopeless it would be.

  Claire got onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. She tried to scurry a little way back, knowing that it wouldn't help much.

  Her brother came upon her. Running. Hands raised. Screaming.

  Then there was a sound. A loud crack.

  Claire didn't know where it came from or what it was, but she saw her brother fall down and come to a stop a few feet in front of her. Half of his face was missing.

  Claire tried to regain her breathing. She still didn't know what had happened.

  She head footsteps and turned around to see where they were coming from -whothey were coming from. Standing there was a big man with a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

  "He almost got you," the man said.

  Claire couldn't respond. She was still trying to register all that happened.

  "You're lucky I was here to shoot him," the man continued.

  Claire kept looking at him.

  "My brother," was all she managed to say.

  "What's that?"

  "He was my brother."

  "Well, don't that beat the fuck out of all hell," the man said. "Your brother! Anyway, he wasn't your brother when I shot 'em. He was one of those fucked up freaks. He was gonna kill you, you know?"

  Claire nodded her head. "I know."

  "But I saved you."

  Claire started to calm down. She managed to get a better look at the man standing in front of her. He was big. Tattoos spread across his forearms. Sticking out the side of his mouth was a toothpick.

  "Thank you," she said. She was still a bit shaken and tired. She stood up slowly and brushed her clothes off.

  "Looks like you had a pretty rough time escapin'."

  "I made my way through the forest," she explained.

  "Your face is all fucked up."

  Claire lifted her hands to her face and touched her skin. It was painful. She pulled her fingers away. They were covered in blood.

  "It's too bad too," the man continued. "You're a pretty hot piece of ass."

  "What?" she asked, unsure if she had heard correctly.

  The man laughed. "Oh," he said. "No reason to be all modest. You're fuckin' hot and you know it. Must drive the college boys wild."

  Claire couldn't respond. She wanted to leave and turned to do so.

  "Where do you think you're goin'?" the man asked.

  Claire turned back around. "I was going to try to get back home," she lied. She had no intention
of going home. But she didn't want to stay here any longer, either.

  The man shook his head. "No," he said. "That's not a good idea. Too dangerous."

  "I'll be okay. Thank you for your help."

  The man laughed again. "Thank you? Is that all? Thatthing there was gonna kill you and I stopped him. And all you're gonna give me is a 'thank you'?"

  "I don't have any money."

  The man laughed once more. "I don't want your money. Wouldn't do any good, anyway. I think this disease...or whatever it is...has happened all over the world. Already seen a bunch of 'em along the road. Fuckers crashed into my truck. Had to shoot 'em all. So, no, your money won't do any good anymore."

  "Then what do you want?"

  The man smiled. "You know what I want," he said.

  Claire did. She could see it in his eyes. He lowered his gun and aimed it at her.

  "Now," he said. "Don't try to run. You're comin' with me. You can thank me later. Properly."

  Claire wanted to run, but she knew that this man would pull the trigger without a second thought.

  "Now get over here."

  Claire did. Slowly. She didn't know what other choice she had.

  The man wrapped his arms around her. He brought his face right up next to her.

  "Fine piece of ass," he said. "I'm gonna enjoy fuckin' you."

  Claire closed her eyes and fainted.

  Chapter 4

  When Adam finally moved, he was feeling a bit better. Though not much. He still didn't know what had happened outside, but he was sure that there had to be an explanation.

  He thought about going to the window again. Instead, he picked up his cell phone once more. It had been laying beside him. He dialed911 and waited. He was hopeful that he'd get through to someone this time, even though somewhere in his mind he knew that he wouldn't. He didn't even get a busy signal. The phone was simply silent.

  "Hello?" Adam said into the dead phone. "Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

  There was no reply. Adam tried again, but knew that it was pointless. He put the phone onto the table and stood up. He looked at the window.

  Adam didn't necessarily want to look outside again. He was worried that he'd see more fighting, more killing, more blood. At the same time, he wanted to know if those things were still going on. He might even find the reason it had all happened.

  He walked to the window. Slowly. But his room was small and didn't take him long to get there. Not as long as he had wanted. Not as long as he needed to prepare himself. He steadied himself and looked out.

  Below him, the street was covered in bodies. All dead. Several limbs were torn from their owners. An arm here, a foot there. Underneath it all was blood, large pools of it. More than he could have ever thought possible.

  Adam felt as though he was going to be sick, but he held it down and kept looking around.

  Aside from the bodies, the street was a mess. Car windows were smashed. Building windows too. His favourite restaurant over on the corner looked destroyed; as did most of the shops. There were fires in a few of them.

  "What happened?" he asked himself aloud.

  He didn't know why he had spoken out to himself. He figured it had something to do with the silence. Aside from a few wailing car alarms in the distance, there wasn't much noise. It was silent. Eerily so.

  Then therewas a noise.

  Adam heard something moving in the hallway. It sounded like footsteps.

  He froze. Nervous. Scared. As much as he wanted to talk to someone, he didn't really want to open the door. He didn't want to leave his room. He didn't know who was out there.

  He heard the footsteps again. They thumped along the hallway floor.

  Adam held his breath, knowing that it wasn't going to make much of a difference. There was no way that anyone outside could hear him breathing. He did it anyway.

  The footsteps continued for a bit longer, then stopped.

  Adam wasn't sure where they had stopped, though. He couldn't be sure if they were close or far away. Something inside him wanted to know.

  He decided to go to the door. He'd look through the peephole. That was all.

  Maybe it was just one of his neighbours, he thought.They might be as confused as himself.

  He walked to the door.

  Before he put his eye to the little hole, he took another deep breath. He wanted to listen once more to see if he could hear anything outside.

  He waited. There was nothing.

  Adam finally decided to look through the peephole. He placed his hands against the door and brought his eye up to the device. He looked out into the hallway.

  There were no lights on, aside from a few red emergency ones, so it was difficult to see much of anything. Adam was surprised that the lights had gone out. Though, at the moment, that was the least of his concerns.

  He continued to look. He moved his eye left and right and tried to make out most of the hallway. Still there was nothing.

  Then someone passed his view.A man.

  Adam was startled and stepped back from the door. A small sound escaped his throat as he did so. He paused, worried.

  Surely he hadn't beenthatloud, he thought. He couldn't be sure.

  He waited and listened. Time passed slowly. Anxiously.

  Then there was banging on his door. The sound startled him again. He jumped back.

  He looked at the door and wondered who was on the other side. He hadn't had a good look. Whoever it was was definitely trying to get in. He wasn't knocking, he was banging. And he was getting louder and more violent. There was yelling too.

  Adam thought that maybe the man outside would stop, but after a few more hits he knew that he wasn't going to.

  He turned around and ran into his living room. He searched around looking for something to protect himself with in case the man got inside. He saw his phone, the television, a large lamp, a book. Nothing that would help him.

  Then he thought about the kitchen.

  He ran toward it and headed straight to one of the drawers, the one where he kept his cutlery. As he opened it, he looked down and saw the rows of shining metal. He grabbed at the biggest knife he had - a cutting knife, abutcher knife. He held it tightly in his hand.

  He ran back to the living room and stared at the door.

  He could still hear the banging and screaming. It wasn't anything that Adam could understand. He simply knew that it was threatening,angry.

  Adam took a step closer to the door. He held the knife out in front of him, unsure of how to use it. He had never killed a man before. He had never really even gotten into a fight. Now, here he was, waiting to stab a knife into someone. It all seemed so unreal.

  He wasn't even sure if he'd even be able to do it. Sticking a blade into someone else's flesh. Feeling the blood on his hand. Seeing the look of pain in the person's eyes. He also wasn't sure that he had much of a choice.

  The banging and screaming was getting worse. It was frantic. Desperately so.

  Then, just like that, it stopped.

  Adam heard footsteps running down the hallway. For whatever reason, the man had gone away.

  Adam didn't know what to make of anything that had happened. He leaned against the wall and sat down heavily onto the floor. He kept the knife in his hands, clutching it to his chest.

  He took a few deep breaths.

  He was okay. Safe.

  For now.

  He looked away from the door and faced the window in his living room. He could see that the sun was beginning to set. The sky had turned to a beautiful shade of red.

  Chapter 5

  When Claire awoke, she was handcuffed to a metal desk. She pulled at it and found that it was bolted to the ground and wasn't about to move.

  She turned away from it and looked around. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't remember. There were tools. A car. Windows.

  She was in a garage.

  It all came back to her.

  She thought about her father, how he h
ad come in and attacked her mother. She had had to hit him over the head with a lamp. She still wasn't sure if she had killed him - not that she was all that worried about it right now.It hadn't been her father.

  Her brother had come in and finished what her dad had started. He had killed her mom -theirmom. Claire hadn't been able to stop it. Not that time.

  Then she had run. Her brother had followed.

  She had made her way to the gas station. And, once she got there, she had fallen.

  Claire looked down at the palms of her hands. They were scraped badly, bleeding. Even her jeans had been ripped. Again, she wasn't all that worried about it at the moment.

  What shewas worried about was the man, the one who had shot her brother. She remembered him smiling at her, saying he was going to enjoy fucking her. That toothpick in his mouth. His tattoos.

  She turned to face the door leading out of the garage. She was sure that he was out there. Waiting.

  Her heart began to race. So did her anger.

  She couldn't believe that this man had taken her prisoner. With all that was happening, it was just one more thing that didn't seem right.

  She pulled at the handcuffs. They made a loud clanging sound, but didn't open.

  She dug her fingers into the cuff and tried to pull. No luck.

  She heard a laugh.

  "What are you doin' darlin'?" a voice asked her.

  Claire looked and saw the man standing in the doorway. The man who had shot her brother. The one who wanted to fuck her.

  "Let me go!" she said. Her voice was more forceful than she had wanted. She knew that she shouldn't be taunting him. She should try to be kind, appeal to his better side. If he had one.

  He looked surprised at her outburst, then laughed again. He walked closer toward her. She could see that he still had the shotgun strapped over his shoulder.

  "You haven't thanked me, yet," he said.

  Claire stared at him, her anger continuing to rise. But, this time, she also felt fear. Here she was, trapped. Handcuffed to a metal desk. There wasn't much that she would be able to do to him.

  "Let me go," she said again. She softened her voice.