The Virulent Chronicles Box Set

by Shelbi Wescott

  The sun beat down through the skylight. It was a cloudless Nebraskan day and soon the light would dip below the glass and they could experience the joy of a bright sunset. They were waiting and watching the sun: something that Grant had not seen since they had first arrived in Brixton. He blinked and stared up at the glass, in awe, and giddy.

  “This place…it’s awesome,” Grant said. “I hope they never find it. I hope it’s ours forever.”

  Ours. Lucy loved the sound of that.

  After Grant was given a tour of the System—which included a trip to the Center and a special glimpse into the Sky Room—Cass had brought them up to the special room as a treat.

  “I’ve got the real Sky Room. If you want,” Cass had enticed and then they wandered through the intricate labyrinth of hallways and sneaked through the fake wall, and rode the elevator to the top, Grant’s face frozen in admiration.

  Once settled, Cass reached into the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of champagne.

  “To celebrate,” she announced and slid out the cork with a small pop, a stream of white gas escaping out of the top. Cass poured them each a glass into small plastic cups and handed the bubbling drinks to her guests. “A toast,” she continued. “To Grant’s freedom.”

  “To health,” Grant added.

  “And forgiveness,” Lucy contributed.

  Cass pointed her glass to Lucy and then to Grant. “To new beginnings and new friends.”

  “Cheers,” Grant replied and they rose their plastic cups and pushed them together before taking small sips. Lucy took several strong gulps and then rubbed her head and smiled.

  “I’ve never had champagne,” Lucy mused looking into her cup. “Were you keeping this up here for a reason?”

  Cass shrugged. “This is a good reason, no?”

  “I’m not complaining,” Lucy added quickly. Then she rose the cup to her lips and finished off the rest.

  “Easy there, partner,” Grant warned with a smile.

  They spent the rest of the time in relative silence, and then Cass abruptly left them alone. Slipping into the elevator without fanfare, the doors closing behind her, she sent Lucy a subtle wink before she was lowered out of sight.

  It wasn’t the first time Lucy had been alone with Grant: They had those days together traveling and the time in Wyoming. Somehow, though, it felt different: as if everything was leading up to this exact moment.

  They rested on their backs, staring without conversation through the thick glass that separated them from the world above ground; everything had changed. Now, they knew the truth.

  The searching was over and the future for them was only beginning. Lucy took a deep breath and extended her hand, feeling for his body next to hers. She found his hand and took it, intertwining their fingers. Then Grant rolled to his stomach in a sudden move and leaned over her, his face inches from hers, breath pouring over her like a wave.

  “You saved me,” he said.

  Lucy smiled. “I said I would. I hate breaking promises.”

  “What if you were a coward? Like, what if you were just selfish. Scared?” he asked.

  She turned her head away and closed her eyes, “Come on,” she answered. “Whatever.”

  “I’m serious. You put it on the line…the easy thing would have been to just worry about you. You didn’t.”

  “No,” she said and her eyes snapped open. “Who would’ve have done that? Who would’ve left you to die?”

  Grant turned his head. “Lots of people, Lucy.”

  “I didn’t do anything. My father—”

  “Stop. No.” He lowered his body next to hers and propped his chin on his hand. His brown eyes unmoored her and she looked way. “That was you. You cared. You wanted to save me. You did. You.”

  “Of course.” She couldn’t help but sound surprised. “What else would I have done? You’re my friend…”

  “Stop,” he whispered again. Then he leaned his body forward and kissed her. Their lips met and Lucy remained frozen against the ground, scared to ruin the moment, scared that if she shifted or sighed he would pull away. His lips were raw and chapped, his unbrushed teeth clicked for a second against her own; but all Lucy could feel was the way his right hand reached up and cupped the side of her face, the way his body felt brushing against hers.

  He stopped and looked at her. Their eyes met for only a second before Lucy lifted her head and kissed him again. She raised her body into a sitting position, keeping herself fixed to Grant as she rose—as if when they separated for a second she could lose him again forever. She was cognizant of every action, every touch, every sound. And she never wanted it to end.

  Lucy wrapped both arms around Grant and he tumbled backward. He pulled away and laughed. She giggled too and stayed above him, for a second, looking deep into his eyes. She searched them for signs of sadness, happiness, pain, joy. He smiled, and she shifted her attention to his little dimple and leaned down to kiss it.

  He sighed. “Lucy—” he said and stopped. He had a pained expression, but then he closed his eyes, and turned his head away.

  Her heart melted as she looked at him, and she noticed then that her hands were shaking. “I have thought of kissing you for a long time,” Lucy replied. “I’ve thought of us…of what we could be, if—”

  He covered his face with his hands.

  “I kissed Salem,” Grant blurted. He flung his body forward into hers, straight-down, full dead weight into her shoulder, and banged his forehead against her body. Then he stayed perfectly still, holding his breath.

  “Oh please, sit up,” Lucy instructed and she patted his back. He winced as he rose, looking ashamed and embarrassed. “Jeez, that’s what you say first? The first words after we kiss? A blurted confession?”

  “It’s not a secret I could keep from you,” he grimaced and looked at her exercising perfected puppy-dog eyes. He brought his hands up in front of himself and folded them in apology. “It wouldn’t feel right. We should put everything on the table,” he took a deep breath. “I kissed Salem.”

  “I remember it differently,” Lucy replied and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Salem kissed you.”

  He pulled back.

  “You saw.” Grant’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “I saw,” she answered. “I loved her. She was my everything…but I can admit that she had a way about her…she could be convincing.”

  Grant’s shoulders slumped and he smiled. “I thought I’d have to explain it to you. But I don’t. This whole time I’ve been practicing in my head. If I ever got a chance, I’d just say: Please give me a chance, even though I kissed your best friend. But I don’t have to give you that speech? You have no idea how that makes me feel.”

  And he cupped her chin and kissed her again.

  “Save it,” she replied. “Save the speeches.”

  “Just kiss you?” he asked.

  “Just kiss me,” she answered.

  The room disappeared. The sun slipped down further in the sky. All Lucy and Grant could feel were each other. After minutes or hours they slid back down to the floor and, lying shoulder to shoulder, they just held hands and stared upwards, watching as a few rogue clouds passed into view.

  “Will we ever escape these people?” Grant asked after awhile.

  “Yes,” Lucy said without missing a beat. “I don’t know how. And I don’t know when. But this is not my life. Huck and the System are not my future.”

  “Good. I’ll follow you.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lucy cautioned. “I don’t know what will happen next. I’m scared of the future…”

  “The future will bring what we want it to bring. Whether we stay. Whether we go. We don’t have to fit inside anyone’s system to be happy, Lucy. If I have you…if I have security…if I have…”

  “The occasional zombie movie?”

  “Then I’m complete.”

  They closed their eyes and threatened to drift off to sleep, each of them ponderin
g the future. Lucy daydreamed of escape. Grant daydreamed of stability. Each of them dreamed of happiness.

  Then the ground began to shake.

  At first Lucy thought she was imagining the subtle vibrations, the nearly imperceptible movement of the glass above them.

  “What is that?” she asked, sitting up.

  Grant looked around. A rumble accompanied the shaking, but it was not coming from beneath them, it was coming from above. They hopped up and looked to the sky. From their position under the glass, Grant and Lucy watched as a medium-sized passenger plane rolled past. The gunmetal underbelly, with landing gear down, floated by and then landed out-of-sight somewhere out there in the fields of Nebraska.

  The ground above them hummed with energy and then everything became still again.

  “A plane,” Lucy said in a whisper.

  “Survivors?” Grant guessed and he watched the window above with rapt eagerness, as if the plane’s passengers would appear and stare down at them like animals at the zoo.

  Then Lucy broke into a grin and jumped up and down. She bounced over to the elevator and beckoned it upward. When she looked back at Grant, she was crying.

  “No. Huck said…Huck did it! No, Grant, not just any survivors…my brother’s here,” she exclaimed and she pounded on the door. “Hurry, hurry, stupid thing. Hurry. My brother’s here.”

  Grant looked up through the skylight one last time and then rushed over to Lucy. He slipped his hand around her shoulder and then let it fall to her waist.

  “Ethan’s home,” Lucy said as the doors finally opened and she stepped inside, tugging Grant along with her. “We’re all here. Everything as it should be. Ethan will be on our side…Ethan will help us fight this. With Ethan and Cass, we’re unstoppable, Grant.”

  “Welcome to the System, Ethan,” Grant replied with a sly smile. “Whatever you were expecting…this isn’t it. But hey, we’ve got a restaurant and a basketball court.”

  The doors shut. The elevator started its slow descent. They felt the temperature shift, the coolness of the earth as they traveled further away from the surface.

  Lucy turned and kissed Grant and when she pulled away, she beamed. “I didn’t think there could be any good days left. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life unable to feel anything but anger and pain. But today,” her eyes brightened and flashed with excitement. “Today is a good day.”

  “Maybe that’s just the champagne talking,” Grant teased. “But hey…don’t shortchange us. It’s a great day!” he added. “What more could we ask for?”

  He kissed her cheek and nuzzled his nose into her hair. He was the perfect height for kissing her forehead and Lucy’s heart pounded with love and anticipation.

  The doors to the elevator opened and they stepped out hand-in-hand, with smiles on their faces, eager to welcome the new arrival, and feeling blessed by all of the day’s unlikely fortunes.

  END OF BOOK TWO

  Acknowledgments

  I read something on the Internet about how awful acknowledgments pages are.

  And how authors should stop waxing on and on about all the people that made their book great because it’s ridiculous and boring.

  Shut up, Internet. Even as a reader, I love the thank yous. It’s a glimpse at the person behind the work. (It’s all about VOICE, people. You can hear the author’s voice in this section of the book, and sometimes for the first time. And that’s just cool. Also, did they thank their spouse [check], mom and dad [check], third grade teacher [sorry Mr. Adams]? Or did they pretentiously name-drop authors? Let the judgment fall.)

  The article suggested that instead of paragraphs of effusive list of names, the acknowledgments should just read like film credits. Name. Role. Done.

  Bo-ring.

  But I’ll try it.

  So, let’s prepare…fade to black, credit music starts to roll (something from Vampire Weekend’s new album would be good. Peppy). And…

  Starring:

  Matt Sherman as the World’s Most Gracious and Giving Husband

  Elliott and Ike Sherman as the World’s Most Understanding and Patient Children Who Let Me Feed Them Mediocre Dinners So I Can Write Instead

  Ross and Connie Wescott as the BEST parents EVER

  Carina Moss as Poetic Inspiration and Wescott’s Biggest Cheerleader and All-Around Awesome Surrogate Daughter

  Jill Moss as Supreme Beta-Reader and Insightful Person #1

  Sunshine McFaul as Supreme Beta-Reader and Insightful Person #2

  Debbi Kaufman as Supreme Beta-Reader and Insightful Person #3

  (That’s just in order of when feedback was received and not a ranking. Because that would be dumb. And because they are all amazing and I couldn’t have done this without them. Truth.)

  Samantha Lynn as Grammar/Punctuation Queen and Nitpicker Extraordinaire

  Jacque Nelson and Jacquelyn Manjarrez and Olivia Craft as Character Cheerleaders and School Support System

  Nicole Johnston as Most Giving Person Ever. (Here’s to all the 9th graders stuck with US next year!)

  CHS as Students in Crowd Scenes. (Yes. All of you.)

  My Book Club as Group that Sustains Me Emotionally

  Bacon as Food that Sustains Author Physically

  Bryce and Corbin Wescott as Brothers Who Have Made Me Who I Am

  It feels like I’ve thanked fewer people this time around than last time around. But, honestly, since Virulent came out, I have had the fortune of seeing just how supported I am. Thank you to everyone who picked up Book One and enjoyed it, and made me feel like writing Book Two was something that the world might actually want. I was going to write it anyway, but knowing that there were people anxiously waiting to find out about these characters provided me with the energy to move forward.

  It’s all about you. Thank you for joining me on this journey. Really, deeply, honestly: thank you!

  No animals were harmed in the making of this novel.

  Prologue

  25 Years before The Release

  Blair walked forward, the plastic on the store-bought bouquet crinkling against her green and white polka-dotted dress. She was wearing a scratchy petticoat underneath like she was dressed for Easter Sunday service. Her polished saddle shoes collected dew, and blades of grass clung to the heel; her socks were folded perfectly against her thin ankles. At her mother’s command, she placed the collection of pink daisies, yellow mums, blue zinnias, and orange lilies at the base of the pearl white granite headstone.

  Josephine Truman had labored over whether or not she wanted rose vines or ivy sculpted across the top of the cemetery marker (she went with ivy) and the exact color of the etching (deep gray against the light colored stone). Still, though, Josephine had often wondered if Kymberlin would have approved of the extravagance. Their oldest child: forever stuck at nineteen. Toothy, thick blonde hair, a light café au lait birthmark on her right arm—impetuous, sensitive, brilliant. Trusting. She was now relegated to a list of adjectives and memories. And even those were fading daily.

  What did she smell like as a baby? Could anyone remember her giggle? Her first crush was a neighbor boy named James Striklin, she used to ask for a dog at least four times a week, and whistle “Oh, Suzanna” while doing chores. She cried when she received a failing grade on her first high school essay. Her favorite present was a small metal microscope and a box of glass slides.

  These were the things they would remember forever.

  Blair ran back and tucked herself between her dad’s legs. She clung to him, grimly aware, even at three years old, that something was different about today. Huck reached down and mussed her hair, but Josephine tsked and smoothed the fine blonde strands back into place.

  “The cameras—” she complained.

  Huck bent to the ground and ran his hand across the grass. A chill ran up his spine and he drew in a quick breath. It had been nearly four years since they had buried his oldest daughter and yet the grass still remained a different shade of green in a perfect rect
angle. Like a beacon announcing: this is where we dug a hole. This is where we put her in the ground. He hated those slight variants of color, hated how it helped him imagine her beneath him.

  “To hell with the cameras,” he said to his wife.

  Gordy kicked his toe against the earth and wandered away from his family. Huck opened his mouth as if he wanted to stop him, but Josephine waved him away.

  “Let him go. Boys should wander. It’s their right.”

  “How can you say that?” Huck asked. He reached down and pulled up Blair into him. He gave her a tight squeeze. “After everything...”

  “We’ll lose him one way or another,” Josephine sighed and she watched as her twenty-one year-old son disappeared out of sight behind a collection of trees and shrubs. “Girls you get to hold on to. It’s the boys you raise to lose.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Huck continued, but Josephine shot him a silencing glare. “Your negativity is an issue, Jo. Good thoughts. Positivity. Today, of all days, can you please hold yourself together?”

  Their conversations had become clichéd and terse. They strung along words and phrases that vacillated between trying to help and trying to hurt when their own pain didn’t feel sharp enough.

  Blair trembled against her father, her eyes shifting between her parents. “I’m cold,” the child said and Huck rubbed her arms over the growing goose bumps.

  “They didn’t look at us,” Josephine whispered. “Once. When they filed out. But I saw that one...the woman, with the red streak in her hair, always taking notes. I saw her look at him and smile, a soft smile. Warm. A warm smile, Huck! To him! When Kymmy’s friends took the stand? That man...the big one, in the back? He rolled his eyes. I saw it. I saw it! They’ve made up their minds, Huck, and when you figure that out, it will be too late. Our girl is gone and there’s no justice in this world. None. Throw away your empty optimism and embrace the fact that we have lost...seeing your disappointment will be too hard to bear.”

  Huck spun, the bright flowers in his periphery. “Shut up,” he spat. “Don’t you dare...don’t you dare poison this with your toxicity.”