The Virulent Chronicles Box Set

by Shelbi Wescott

  “I heard you, Galen.”

  “Tell the men we can’t go. The airport is closed. They said on the news.”

  Maxine took a deep breath. She shoved her phone into her bra strap and walked back into foyer. The bags were gone, including the carry-ons, and the men were now loading up Harper. One of them had taken her by the hand and walked her to the booster seat in the SUV. Everything inside of Maxine seized, and she froze. This was not the joyous jaunt she had envisioned. Something was very wrong.

  “Wait a second. Wait, wait,” Maxine called, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “Get her out of that car immediately.”

  Maxine heard the tremor in her own voice and wished she had been able to keep it from shaking. She reached in and grabbed the first two bags she saw, Lucy and Ethan, and she pulled them out. No, they weren’t going anywhere. She rushed the bags back inside and hurried out to the limo again, but as she reached in for another set of their luggage, the men pushed her back and her hands grasped at nothing.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not going with you. You do not have my permission to take me or my children anyhere—”

  “I don’t need your permission, ma’am. I have strict orders from Scott King to take you to the Portland International Airport. You have three minutes to get loaded into this car or we will use force.” The man buckled the last strap over Harper’s body, and he turned to Maxine—his glasses still obscuring his eyes—and he unbuttoned his suit jacket to reveal a holster against his body.

  Not ordinary airport limo drivers at all. Maxine stalked forward and put her hands on her hips. “Are you threatening me?” she asked.

  “Three minutes. The timeline is sensitive, Mrs. King. Do I have all your luggage?”

  “What airport service packs a gun?” Maxine asked, her voice regaining its strength. “Who are you really? Don’t think I won’t make you shoot me… I’m not going anywhere with you without answers.”

  “Employees of Huck Truman, Mrs. King. Your husband’s employer.”

  “I know who Huck Truman is,” she spat. “Get my daughter out of the car. Get her out of the goddamn car.”

  Randy stepped forward and took his gun from the holster. He held it pointed at the ground, his finger on the safety.

  “Put the gun away,” Maxine said. “Don’t point that near my children.”

  “Gather the rest of your family and get them in the vehicle.” He checked his watch. “Your plane will leave without you.”

  “Our plane doesn’t leave for hours—”

  “Mrs. King,” the man with the gun started. He sounded tired, annoyed. “There’s been a small change in plans, and there is no time for argument. Get in the car.”

  “I’d like to speak to my husband first,” Maxine said. She pulled her phone out and dialed Scott’s number. It rang once, twice, and then it clicked to voice mail. That was a telltale sign that he had ignored her. She dialed it again. One, two, three, four, voicemail. She hung up and tried again. This time, it went straight to voicemail. She growled an expletive under her breath and resisted the urge to throw her phone at the body of the black SUV.

  “It’s time, Mrs. King.”

  It wasn’t time. Her children had not returned.

  “I’m missing my two oldest children,” she said. “I won’t leave without them.”

  Maxine looked down the street and couldn’t see Ethan’s car anywhere. She shot him a text telling him to get home immediately, while the goons poured back inside the house and did a sweep.

  “Is there anything else you need to take with you? Anything your husband said to pack?”

  “My husband?” Maxine scoffed, her fingers flying across her messages, sending texts to Lucy, Ethan, Scott. “I pack for my family, thank you. And no, I didn’t forget anything.”

  “Last chance,” one of them said. “Get in the car.”

  Galen, Monroe, and Malcolm had been corralled into the SUV, and they sat there, buckled and wide-eyed. If she didn’t get in the car with them, she risked the men taking off to the airport with her younger kids and without her. But she’d stalled as long as she could, and still Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

  “I want to go by the school. We’ll drive up the back roads, because that’s always the way they go, in case we overlap, and then we’ll see if they are stuck at the school. We’ll get them there.”

  “No,” the one with the blond beard said.

  “Then let me leave him a note! You can’t possibly make me leave without them.” Dread and panic had replaced confusion and worry—it had been enough time for Ethan and Lucy to have completed their homework mission. They should’ve been back by now. How could she have let them go?

  Maxine clutched her phone, willed it to ring, and ran back inside.

  “Mom!” she heard one of her children call after her.

  “Get in the car!” Galen screamed.

  She paused and turned right as the men roared inside and grabbed her. It happened too fast for her to prepare or react. The only thing she wanted to do was keep her phone like it was a lifeline—as if at any second, Ethan would call and say he was a block away or Scott would call and tell her there had been a mistake.

  The men held on to Maxine’s arms and dragged her through the hallway. She kicked and felt her foot connect with the entry hall table. It tumbled to the floor. As they pushed and pulled her out the door, their hands wrapped around her arms, she kicked at her potted plant and tried to get her foot stuck in the metal railing on her front porch. But the struggle was useless. They tossed her into the back of the SUV and shut the door. Maxine threw herself toward the door and ran her hand over the spot where a handle was supposed to be, but there was nothing but smooth interior surface. She was trapped.

  Harper cried and Galen pushed himself against the far window, his lips trembling. The twins were silent, and they clutched their chosen stuffed animals to their chests.

  Maxine stopped, assessed her children’s fear, and forced herself to take a breath. It took everything inside of her to stop, collect her emotions, and put on a brave face. This was her worst nightmare, all mothers’ worst nightmares, but she would not let her children see her despair.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Are they going to leave them?” Galen asked, and his voice shook.

  “No, sweetie. No. They’ll send someone else to get them. Right? You’ll send someone for my kids?” She addressed her question to the guys driving in the front, but they ignored her. She turned back to her children. “It’s going to be okay. Your dad will talk to someone. He’ll make a call.”

  “Mom?” Harper whispered, and Maxine leaned forward and put her ear to her daughter’s mouth. “Are these bad guys?” she asked.

  Maxine sniffed and ran a hand through her daughter’s hair. “No, sweetie. Mommy was just concerned about Ethan and Lucy.” She sat back and sighed. The SUV reached an intersection that was blocked with traffic and abandoned cars, and instead of turning around, it hopped up on the curb and took out a set of unoccupied patio furniture. The kids shrieked and Maxine threw herself against the seat, clinging to the handle on the back of Harper’s seat.

  “Everyone buckled?” the driver called back. “Thought we’d beat this,” he added as an aside to his partner.

  “Five minutes behind schedule,” the partner replied. “Is she the only one going out on this one?”

  “No other evacuations from Portland. This is it.”

  “Evacuations?” Maxine said from the backseat. “Evacuations?”

  But before either of them had time to respond, Maxine’s phone buzzed. “Hubby” appeared on the screen, and she answered immediately. Without waiting for formal hellos, Maxine launched.

  “Ethan and Lucy… they weren’t home, Scott. They left them. This asshole is driving like a maniac… said we’re being evacuated. But your two oldest are missing. Tell them to turn around. Call Huck and tell him to tell them to turn around. Do you hear me?”
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  “Call Ethan. Tell him to get the airport. Get his sister and get to the airport. He can meet you there,” Scott replied.

  “Scott—”

  “There’s no time to explain any of this yet. But our children need to get on that plane… Do you understand? Call them and tell them to get to the airport immediately. I’m not even going to ask why they were out of the house this morning. You had one job. Seriously, Maxine…”

  “Don’t you dare accuse me,” Maxine said. She looked at her phone. Scott had hung up. She choked back a quick sob and stared at the phone timer: seventeen seconds. Everything had fallen apart and her husband had given her seventeen seconds. Maxine dialed Ethan’s number first and left him a series of messages. Get to the airport. Get to the airport, my dearest children.

  She tried Lucy’s phone, but the network kicked her off.

  Finally, as the transport made its way to one of the highways that ran parallel to the airport, Maxine called Scott again. This time, he answered on the first ring.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Where are we going?” Maxine asked.

  Scott was silent.

  “Were we ever going to the Seychelles? Can you answer me that?” The car hit a pothole and bounced a little. Her children rode silently; planes lined the runway of the airport—just like Galen had watched on the news: the airport was closed. People milled about on the tarmac like cattle.

  “Did you get in touch with Ethan?” Scott asked.

  “Put an end to this,” Maxine said. “I’m not leaving without my kids.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Scott. Put an end to this… What is happening?”

  “Just get on the plane, Maxine. There’s no time to explain.”

  “Did you do this?”

  She knew as she asked the question that she didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Call Ethan back and tell him and Lucy to go to the fruit cellar. There are supplies there. Go to the fruit cellar and wait.”

  “I don’t even know if they were at the house, Scott. They went out into the mess—”

  “Fruit cellar, Maxine.” Scott hung up.

  The SUV drove through an open gate and pulled directly on the runway. All around them people were being led off planes and back into the airport. Maxine watched the passengers disembark, and she examined their serious expressions. If she had expected chaos, she didn’t see it among the passengers, pilots, and attendants. They were only sheep being moved from one area to another, blindly shuffling along while holding their carry-ons.

  Maxine dialed Ethan.

  Nothing. It beeped at her. Circuits busy.

  The car parked, the men got out, and slowly, systematically, they pulled the kids out of their seats, equipped them with their carry-on bags, and led them toward a waiting plane. Two other men rushed down the steps to grab the King’s luggage, and a pilot stood at the door. He waved nonchalantly to Maxine, and she narrowed her eyes and stalked forward.

  “Get them on board. We have to get going—”

  “We’re not going anywhere without my kids,” Maxine said. She put her hand out to stop Galen, the twins, and Harper from stepping on to the plane. “I’ve already talked to my husband… my orders are to wait for them.”

  “Not my orders, Mrs. King,” the pilot said, and he picked at his teeth. “I’d advise you to get on this plane before it takes off without you.”

  “My oldest two children are on their way—”

  “Get the kids,” the pilot said. The drivers of the transport reached down and began to physically pick up her children to move them up the steps.

  “Don’t touch them!” Maxine shouted, but despite her own cries and her children’s cries, she was unsuccessful at stopping the forward momentum. She found herself inside the plane, following her children, shaking with rage. “We have to wait for them,” she said again, but she knew no one was listening.

  “Mrs. King,” the blond-beard said, “we know that this is hard to understand… but there is a war outside. You and your family are being evacuated immediately. We are sorry that Ethan and Lucy were not home at the time of collection, but time is everything.”

  “Let me save my kids,” Maxine pleaded. “I’m asking for ten minutes.”

  “Please take a seat,” the pilot commanded. “We have to leave now.”

  Maxine moved toward the door. “You can’t leave without them. Ten minutes.”

  One of the men put a hand on her upper arm, and she turned and swung. The right side of her fist caught the man in the fleshy part of his cheek and he stumbled backward, more stunned than hurt. Maxine thought she heard Galen cheer for her from his seat, and his vocal support buoyed her resiliency.

  “Get off the plane,” the pilot said, and he stalked forward. “You want to delay my takeoff? Risk my whole operation? Get off the plane.”

  “Yes, fine,” Maxine replied and she resisted the urge to break out into a triumphant smile. She brushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and sniffed. “Absolutely fine with me. Come on, kids.”

  “No,” the pilot said. “The kids stay.”

  “Like hell they do. They’re my kids… They come with me.”

  “We’re under orders to escort the King family out of Portland. If you choose to remain behind on your own volition, so be it. But these children are currently under my protective custody, and I will deliver them to their father.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Maxine looked at the scared faces of her younger children, and she brought her hand up to her mouth. She started to cry.

  “Sit down, Mrs. King.”

  She continued to stand.

  “Sit down, Mrs. King, or we will be forced to physically remove you from this plane and leave you behind.”

  She sat. And she buckled up. Harper climbed over from her seat to sit with her mother, and Maxine held her baby and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Are Ethan and Lucy coming, Mommy?”

  “Yes,” Maxine answered. “They’ll meet us there. Okay? They’ll be there soon.”

  She looked at her phone and dialed Ethan one more time. This time it rang, and she cringed when she heard her son’s voice on the outgoing message. Her sweet boy—how could she possibly be flying away from him? He was down there somewhere with his sister. She imagined Ethan and Lucy arriving at the empty house, and she couldn’t fathom how abandoned they would feel. She shivered. Their bags: she had only succeeded in unloading their bags. It would look like they had been purposefully left behind—a calculated plan instead of a tragedy.

  “Dad will get them,” Galen said from his seat in front of her. “Right, Mom?”

  Maxine nodded. She put a finger to her lips. “No time. I’m sorry,” Maxine hurriedly said into the phone. “You need this message. I called your dad and I… your dad says…”

  The airplane rushed down the runway now, and it shook violently. There was a bump, and Maxine’s phone flew from her hands. She watched as it skittered away toward the men who had trapped her here. They eyed it and she eyed them.

  “Fruit cellar! Ethan! If you can hear me… your dad says you need to get to the fruit cellar!” Her voice rose above the din and she repeated herself until one of the men picked up her phone and hit end to cancel the call.

  He pocketed her device and turned away from her. Maxine didn’t care. Soon the phone would be worthless, and she could only hope that her messages would arrive safely. She was on a plane with strangers, huddled around her children, but her missing kids felt like amputations. The loss was too staggering to comprehend.

  Five minutes into the flight, as they soared above the wreckage of a world gone mad, Maxine stood up and walked to the men in the front of the plane.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “I have a right to know.”

  One looked to the other, and then they nodded in mutual agreement. “Nebraska.”

  She crumbled into an
available seat and hung her head in her hands. “What’s in Nebraska?” Maxine asked, incapable of hiding her disgust.

  “Your husband. And the future.”

  “There’s no future without my children,” she answered and turned to go back to her seats. Then she looked at Galen, Malcolm, Monroe, and Harper and felt intensely guilty. Were they not a family if they were incomplete? Was it fair to let her anger and guilt win above all else? She didn’t know. Maxine didn’t have the answers.

  “You’re not the only one who has lost something or someone today,” the blond-beard said. “Just remember that.”

  With a shuddering sigh, Maxine turned to look out the airplane window. They were rising further into the clouds, and the buildings below looked smaller, obscure, and she could no longer tell where they were or where they were headed. She rested her forehead against the Plexiglas and felt the coolness seep into her skin.

  “I’ll remember,” she said after a long pause. Her voice was nearly a whisper, and the plane noise swallowed her words. “Goddamn it… how could anyone forget?” She closed her eyes and ran through the next conversation she would get to have with her husband. It would start with the biggest question on her mind. How will we get our children, Scott? You did this. Now undo it.

  Undo it.

  The plane dipped. A child asked for water. One of their guardians fell asleep. The clouds extended across the sky, undisturbed.

  BENJAMIN POPE’S DAY – Chicago, Illinois

  Artifact Collection Team, 30 A.R.

  Type: Letter

  Discovery: Outer Zones of Upper New United States, formerly Chicago, Illinois of the former United States of America – kitchen table, apartment otherwise empty, urban homestead.

  Letter dated for Release Day

  Collected by Zone 6, ACT

  Signed by: LT

  Dear Heather:

  By the time you read this letter, it will be too late to change the course of history and too late for you to do anything about the details I’m about to divulge. I don’t say this to you to dissuade you from feeling like you have to do something to prevent my actions. In fact, I’m so aware of the type of person you are, that I’m confident you will finish this letter and immediately rush out to report me. Fine. They’ll know, too, by then. And they will send you away. So, while I know you’ll do what you need to do, I’m begging you to stay in the house and wait for death. Or, if you must, go find someone to be with at the end. That will have to be your last choice. I’m sorry. This isn’t my plan and it would happen with me or without me, so don’t blame me for this. I saved myself. I couldn’t save you. I don’t think you would’ve allowed yourself to be saved anyway, for what it’s worth. But you should know that I couldn’t—it’s not that I didn’t want to. I wanted to.