Harvest of Ruin (Book 3): A Spring of Sorrow

by Mongelli, Arthur

“Well, Mr. Grayson, we were on vacation when it all happened.” Mark began after he worked his voice around the knot of fear clutching his throat.

  *

  Mark slid down from the steel railing he had been sitting atop to take a photo of Amber with a backdrop of Wizard Island. The two had been on what was supposed to be a romantic camping trip at Crater Lake in Oregon for the past three days. The idea was to turn off all their electronic devices, disconnect from the digital world and reconnect with one another. Though the scenery couldn't be more idyllic, the trip had done little more than to exacerbate the feelings of suffocation they were both feeling about their relationship. The fall winds and chilly rains that had set in the night previous had disturbed their sleep, the constant flapping of the wind while rain lashed at the tent had kept them from a restful sleep and put a damper on their spirits this morning.

  “We should move up here,” he stated as Amber climbed back up the rocks towards the railing.

  She shot him a strange look and he grew silent. He hadn't really been serious about the suggestion, he was just uncomfortable with the lingering silences between them and was eager to break the mood. He was handling the problems they were facing in the same way he always handled problems in his personal life, by ignoring them. He figured that he could just fake it until the weirdness between them passed into something more comfortable.

  The two had made the leap to moving in together a few months previous, so he knew where the look was coming from. The adjustment to cohabitation hadn't been the smoothest. Both of them were used to their independence. They both had their routines and more often than not, those routines clashed with one another. Mark felt that Amber expected him to make all the concessions since she had moved in with him, and unlike him, she still worked. Amber felt out of place in 'his' house and wanted the freedom to carve out her own spaces now that it was 'their' house.

  “I just mean it would be nice to live closer to nature, away from the chaos of Cali,” Mark clarified after sighing heavily.

  Amber was panting from her scramble back up the rocky slope to the scenic overlook and didn't respond. She was afraid that her tone might betray the way she really felt. She still wasn't certain of their life together and couldn't be bothered to consider making any further commitments to the man until she sorted out her own feelings on it. They had been dating for over a year, but her job and the distance between the two kept them comfortably sequestered to the routines of their own lives. Only in the past few months did they have to spend any considerable amount of time together.

  The romance period of their relationship was spent skyping and texting in the wee hours before bed. Now that they were cohabiting, it seemed like he was always underfoot, standing in the bathroom when she had to use the toilet or blocking the cabinet she needed to access to fix her breakfast as she readied herself to fight through the insane Bay area traffic to get to work. She loved him, she supposed, but definitely not in a romantic sense. Something that kept nagging at her was the thoughts of a few women she had met over the years that only dated people in prison. She could never understand why until she met Mark. With him she had the security of having him there, but without the need to see him or be around him. She was needed and fawned over without being obligated to make sacrifices. She knew he was a good man, he was caring, thoughtful, and sincere, but the spark was never there for her. At the beginning the arrangement had worked, it gave her the comfort of having someone while affording the opportunity to pursue her career. As things had progressed though, her own version of a prison relationship was feeling more like she was imprisoned.

  “It certainly is beautiful,” she finally panted back after catching her breath.

  He let it go there, recognizing that there was no need to carry the conversation on any further. He really couldn't see their relationship making it past Christmas, but felt the need to make it as happy as possible in the meantime. His heart attack at twenty-seven had ended his career in the tech industry. His cardiologist had, in no uncertain terms, told him he needed to make drastic changes if he wanted to see thirty. In short order he sold his business and moved to northern California, far from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles and San Francisco, where he previously had offices. His brush with death had stoked a fire in him to settle down, get married and procreate. He wasn't particularly picky in potential mates, he just knew that's what he wanted. Amber had been one of the only internet matches that he got along with well enough to meet in person.

  “Where to next?” he asked at length.

  Amber shrugged her shoulders before answering. In truth, she was feeling claustrophobic on the trip. At least at the house she could hide in her office or the bathroom when she wanted some space. Out here, she was confined to a tent or camp area, the only escape was the dreary wilderness surrounding them. Her fear of wild animals kept her close to Mark, which made the idea of 'getting away' completely useless for her.

  “Why don't we take a drive down to the pumice desert?” she posited, figuring she could lose herself in the open spaces at the very least.

  “Sure, lets head back around the lake to the campsite so I can grab my keys.”

  The two walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about life. Both recognized the futility of continuing on together, but both were too timid and agreeable to start the conversation that would end it. As they rounded the final bend leading up to the campsite, Mark noticed the distinct flashing of police lights in the distance, towards the park ranger’s office. He gave thought momentarily as to what that could be about, but figured a child got lost or some other such inanity.

  They piled into Mark's Tesla and Amber grabbed a box of organic granola bars they had bought at Trader Joe's in Medford the day previous from behind the seat. Mark took a bite into one as he steered the nearly silent vehicle down the winding mountain road to the north. They spent the remainder of the morning wandering the barren pumice desert created when the volcano had exploded eons before.

  “It looks like a different planet,” Amber said about the desert.

  She was absently staring out the car window at the wasteland as Mark put the car in gear and began the ride back to camp. He didn't feel the need to respond his agreement, so drove on in silence towards the campground. He instead thought about an early dinner of tempeh and asparagus grilled over an open fire and his mouth was watering by the time the ranger's station came into view. The post-cardiac heart-healthy diet was something he had embraced and grew to love. Well, he wasn't certain he loved it, but he adhered to it at least. As he nosed the Tesla into the parking space, Mark took note of the source of the flashing lights at the opposite end of the lot. A park ranger's truck was parked at the end along with four Oregon state police cruisers.

  “Huh. What do you think that is all about?” he asked absently.

  “We need to go ask at the park office,” she stated flatly.

  Mark turned to face her and could see worry splayed across her features.

  “Why?” he asked “Do you think it's any of our concern?”

  “If you want me to spend another minute out here, never mind the night, we are going to make sure we are safe,” she finished, bluntly.

  The park office and ranger station sat at the front end of the parking lot, the campsite lay beyond that. Mark didn't see the harm in popping a head in to ask, mostly he wanted to avoid another argument with Amber. Their spats were growing increasingly bitter. It was as if both were trying to goad the other into finally ending the relationship. They heard the first scream when they were about a hundred and fifty feet from the office. A bloodcurdling yell that sent goose flesh up both of their spines. They looked uncertainly at one another for a moment. Their hesitation broke when a man came tearing across the lot in the next aisle and tackled an elderly woman to the ground. Their eyes widened and mouths dropped in horror as the man began tearing at the flesh of her stomach, and he started eating her.

  “Fuck this!” Mark blurted, grabbing Amber by
the hand.

  He pulled her back to the car and shoved her in the passenger seat before running around to the driver's side and getting in.

  “Why aren't those cops doing anything?” she shrieked in his ear as he nestled his seat belt into place.

  His own moans of fear mingled with her panicked shouts as he started the car, put it in gear, and surged out of the lot. At the end of the lot, Mark steered the Tesla southwards to connect with route 62 and put them on the way back to California and home. He didn't know what was happening, but he correctly assumed that their vacation was over. As he finished the turn and straightened the wheel out, a crowd of people running up the hill met them head on. The northbound, incoming traffic was lined up, stalled behind a three car accident that clocked both lanes. The line of vehicles stretched as far down as the winding road, curving its way down and around the mountain, allowed them to see. All around the traffic, people streamed upwards, dozens of them, from all walks of life. It only took a few seconds of examining the scene of the accident for Mark to realize that there was no hope of driving down that way.

  Mark pressed the button controlling his window, thinking to ask one of the pedestrians what was going on, but quickly changed his mind when the chaotic, panicked noise from the street flooded into the vehicle. He put the car in reverse and spun his head around, choosing to manually look through the back window rather than rely on the video screen and reverse camera. He backed up carefully, easing the vehicle along in the rapidly filling roadway. A heavy slam on the hood of the car startled his attention back forward. Amber let out a yelp of fear and panic.

  Spinning his head back to the front, he recoiled from the form of a woman lying face-down on the hood of the car. As the two watched, she lifted her head and upper body off the hood, a grievous wound from her throat down to her abdomen left her intestines, bloated and rope-like, trailing behind her. Amber screamed loudly, shocking Mark out of his stupor as the woman gripped the upper lip of the hood and pulled herself toward the windshield. The woman's face was blank and emotionless, her eyes were milky and congealing blood covered her lower jaw. Through the open driver's side window they could hear a low breathy moan escape her lips as her right hand slapped heavily onto the windscreen.

  Mark let out a bleat of terror and cut the wheel as he slammed his foot on the accelerator. The Tesla spun wildly, throwing the woman off the side of the hood. They both watched, transfixed as her body tumbled across the roadway toward the northbound ditch. Their attention snapped back as the car bumped a few other pedestrians out of its way. Mark slammed both feet on the brake pedal and the Tesla screeched sidelong to a halt with its hood aimed to the north. Amber continued screaming as more hands started slapping and clawing at the windows. Mark engaged drive and floored the accelerator again, a bleat of fear escaping from his throat. The electric car shot off up the road, silent but for the sound of the tires crunching loose stone on the road. The sudden, powerful acceleration pressed the two back into their seats. Amber continued to scream, mindlessly, until they reached the pumice desert three miles below. Mark pulled off onto the shoulder and slid the car into park. He breathed heavily with his head between his hands that still clenched the wheel. He started the breathing techniques he had learned in meditation classes to help calm himself and clear his thoughts of stressors. When he was finally centered, he turned and placed his hands on Amber's shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze.

  “Am, we are okay, they are gone. There is nothing around us. Okay?”

  Amber's shrieks mellowed into frightened sobs and over the course of a minute or so she composed herself enough to speak.

  “What the fuck was that?” Amber roared, her voice high and riddled with anxiety.

  When Mark didn't immediately answer her, she started smacking him on the arm until she got a response.

  “I don't know Amber,” he responded plaintively.

  He was fighting back tears of fear and frustration as he pulled away from her flailing blows.

  “Chemical attack? Terrorist attack? Zombies? Whatever it was, we are clear of it now.”

  Amber wasn't paying attention to him anymore, she had her phone out and was sending out a mass text to everyone on her contacts. Mark pressed on the dashboard touchscreen of the Tesla with one hand, turning down the mellow trance mix playing on the sound system and made an emergency call from his iPhone with his other. The phone rang for a split-second before the call dropped. He tried again and again to get through to the police before giving up. He next tried to call his sister and, failing as well, his mother. It was in the process of calling his friend John that he lost service altogether.

  “I lost connection, phone and web,” he stated flatly, looking confused at his phone.

  “Fuck!” Amber roared, slapping her phone face down onto her leg, a habit she had when frustrated. “Me too. Now what the fuck are we going to do?”

  The roaring panic she had been under the spell of for the past fifteen minutes finally cracked and started giving way to fear and anger. Her voice warbled and cracked as she finished her question. Mark took a moment and a deep breath to steady himself before turning back to the touchscreen. He tried bringing up the navigation to figure out an easy way home, but the network was out, not just for the phones apparently, as the on-board GPS and emergency services that the state of the art car offered were also out. At length he spoke.

  “What the fuck were you thinking bringing us camping anyways? I'm from South Beach and you're from Vegas, what the fuck are we doing in the woods?”

  “Look, Am,” Mark started, breathing deliberately to maintain his calm. “We are gonna head out the north entrance of the park. We passed through that little tourist trap on the way in, the one where we bought the firewood. We'll loop around and stop back there and find out what's going on. From there we will make our way to the PCH and head back south to Cali.”

  Once he finished his statement he put the car back in drive, checked his mirrors, and silently took off heading north. He had to stretch his hands out as they were cramping due to the death grip he had on the steering wheel.

  *

  Linda stood outside the main entrance of the Heartland Clinic, relishing a rare moment of peace in the late winter rains. The rains signaled the end of the harsh mountain winter for the tight-knit community of Donner and everyone was grateful. The winter had been hard, the worst she had ever seen, though it was only her fifth in Donner. She was about to return to her rounds when the familiar sight of a truck pulled up the driveway. Every time she saw Tar's Silverado cruising the streets she experienced a moment of confusion followed by sadness.

  Linda had taken up full time residency at the clinic out of duty as well as necessity. She was the town's only doctor and it made no sense for her to sleep anywhere else when she was needed here. Over the course of the long winter, she had begun to see her choice to move to Donner as both a blessing and a curse. Hearing the stories from the refugees, she knew the only reason she was alive was her decision to leave Denver and take up practice here.

  At the onset of it all, when the phones still worked, she was able to bear witness vicariously to the demise of her colleagues at the CDPHE. Listening to the tales the steady stream of refugees flooding to Donner had to offer, the rest of the country suffered the same. So, as burdened as she was with her duties as a doctor, she understood that she was all that stood between life and death for a rapidly expanding group of people. Not that she had any insights or ability to stem or stop the bacteria that was causing the undead. Rather, she was the lifesaver for the little things that would kill if they went untreated. The tooth abscesses and broken bones, an appendectomy and countless infected wounds that were turning septic.

  Linda pushed these thoughts from her head as she absently watched the truck glide through the icy rain from under the front awning. The red truck slid into a parking space, and a moment later Yen swung his legs out of the driver's side door and came striding clear of the cars, his head ducked low
as if cringing to avoid the deluge.

  “Morning Linda,” he barked as he noticed her.

  “Morning Yen. Looking for Nala?” she asked.

  Sheriff Daltry and Tar, the two main authority figures in town had been gunned down at the onset of winter by Tyler Peterson and his family. The two had driven out to the Peterson ranch to try to convince the clan that everyone's best interests lie in remaining a tight-knit community. Since then, Yen and Nala, both outsiders, had been splitting the duties of organizing the town's defenses and dealing with the many problems that popped up. Yen had been spending more time outside the safety of the town's walls recently, organizing a manhunt to find the Peterson clan. This left Nala to try to fill Tar's shoes within the walls.

  “No, Linda, I came to see you actually.”

  “Oh,” Linda said, surprised as the two had rarely had an opportunity to talk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  “It's about the school,” Yen began. “There is quite a bit of fighting among the kids, some of them are quite bad.”

  The school had opened a month prior as a way to reintroduce a sense of structure and normality into the lives of the children. While a number of parents resisted or flat-out refused sending their children, too scared to be separated, a great many were excited about giving their children a sense of the former world. As with anyone else having gone through a traumatic experience, the children were having a rough time adjusting back to normality.

  “Did someone get hurt?” Linda asked, suddenly concerned about school violence, something that she hadn't thought of since the world before the undead.

  “No, nothing like that, yet. Mostly bumps and bruises, but what we were hoping was is that you could maybe offer some kind of group counseling in the school.”

  “I'm a medical doctor, Yen, I don't have the training, the knowledge, or the time to do that.”

  “I know that Lin, but you have a better understanding than the rest of us.”

  “I can go down there, I guess, when things are dead here. . .quiet here,” she corrected, the word sounded foreboding to her. “But, might I suggest you go out among the refugee camps and see if anyone out there has a background in psychology?”