He didn’t become violently ill or suffer any other negative effects, so he took another drink. Chips forgotten, he alternately nursed the bottle of warm rum and his cool cola. The warmth migrated from his throat to his head and he found it easier to avoid thoughts of his nephew and the other family members he’d left behind in his fear.
When Leland heard a noise near the door, he took the screwdriver in hand and held it up close to his head. His hand shook and his vision wavered. He’d been at the rum and cola for over thirty minutes. It hadn’t hit him in one solid rush but had rather crept up on him until he was drunk without knowing how he’d gotten there.
If someone was trying to get in and wanted to hurt him, being drunk wasn’t how he wanted to be. Leland wrinkled his nose and his lips twisted into a frown. He shoved the small, half-empty bottle of rum away from him and stood.
He couldn’t see anyone on the other side of the door. If there’d been a person trying to get inside, they’d already moved away. It was someone like him then, wasn’t it? Leland was almost certain; it had be.
One of the crazy ones like the two who’d killed or hurt his family members would have just flung themselves through the door with no thoughts for injuries or broken glass. But whoever it was had tried the door, found it didn’t open, and moved away. That indicated a level of higher thinking Leland thought the potential pursuers he’d outrun didn’t have.
He stood frozen with indecision for only a moment. The first few steps made his head swim and he braced himself against the counter. He’d heard his father say it several times and after just the first experience with drunkenness made Leland agree with the old man: he was never drinking again.
The door lock seemed too large and unwieldy for his fingertips. He fumbled with it once, then twice before he was able to get it open. By that time, Leland assumed the other person had already gone from the area.
He swung the door wide anyway and called out to the empty parking lot, “Hey!”
No one answered him at first. Leland was sure the person had gone and he could return to the store to do anything else except drink more alcohol. Then, he saw a man round the left side of the building.
He was tall, white, and looked like the body-builder type. He carried a suitcase and a briefcase as though they weighed nothing and didn’t bother his bulging muscles. His sharp brown eyes took in Leland, found him non-threatening, and warmed when his disarming smile reached them.
“Nice to meet you,” the man said as he stepped forward. When he was within distance for it, he put down his briefcase to free his right hand for a shake. “My name is Jameson.”
Chapter Seven – What’s Wrong With the World – Leland and Jameson
Jameson noticed how quickly Leland reengaged the lock once they got back inside the convenience store. His suspicions about the state of things kept receiving more confirmation. He’d left the apartment complex less than ten minutes before but had crossed considerable distance. He couldn’t see even the outline of the fire which consumed the home he’d left behind against the dark horizon. The young man was the first person he’d encountered since leaving the burning apartment building.
“I’m Leland,” the young man said after some delay. He looked outside through the locked door once more before he turned back to Jameson. “Did something happen to you?”
The question was open-ended enough Leland didn’t have to go into his own experiences or reason why he’d ask such a question. Jameson respected the kid and his inquiry.
“My wife,” Jameson said with a nod. “Someone killed her.” He didn’t specify how, but he could see his admission didn’t startle the kid in the slightest. He’d definitely experienced something, as well. Jameson wanted to know what had happened.
“Two crazy people killed my family,” Leland said. His voice could barely make it out of his mouth through the pain he felt. “They broke through the front window and just…” He trailed off with a shrug and moved toward Jameson, who leaned against the counter.
“I’m sorry about that. It seems like there’s a lot of crazy shit going on right now.”
Leland took a fold-out chair from the back and then returned to grab another for Jameson. He gestured to the free one as he sat and asked, “Have you heard anything else?”
Jameson took the offered seat and looked around for somewhere he could set up his laptop. He turned his chair so he faced the counter and started unpacking his briefcase.
“I haven’t, but I saw the men who were after my wife. There was something wrong with them. It feels like the whole world is wrong right now, doesn’t it?”
Leland nodded his agreement with the assessment as Jameson booted up his computer. He decided not to bother with the cord as the machine was fully charged. If it took too long to read what was on Joselyn’s flash drive, he could always plug into the outlet behind the counter.
Leland put his head in his hands. The ache behind his eyes had gotten worse. He didn’t know what else to talk to the stranger about. Maybe his job? His family? What kind of mundane conversation was appropriate when two men were hiding out against a threat they couldn’t even put a name or face to?
“So what do you plan to do after this?” Jameson asked as he logged on and slipped the flash drive into its place on the side of his laptop. The machine recognized the device without a problem and gave Jameson access to its contents. No folders existed in the display. Only one document was available for selection. It was titled, ‘Project Codename: Rippers.’ Jameson clicked on it and looked at Leland, awaiting his answer.
“I don’t really know,” Leland admitted. “My dad passed a couple years back and the rest of my family… they were all at the party. I don’t really know what to do.”
Jameson smelled the kid’s depression even through the haze of alcohol he’d noticed as soon as he’d seen him.
“Well,” the vampire began, “I hope you can find a friend or something.” The scent of blood was even heavier than the smell of rum. Jameson didn’t think he could trust himself around Leland. He didn’t want to risk the kid’s life any more than it was already being risked just by existing in what Jameson assumed was a dangerously changing world.
Leland’s eyes widened a bit at Jameson’s words. He’d hoped the older man might have had some sage advice to offer. Instead, it seemed like he planned to part ways with Leland as soon as he could and didn’t care to offer him any words of wisdom at all.
What Jameson read, he didn’t understand. He frowned at the screen as his brain tried to make sense of what he saw. Words like, ‘Grissom virus,’ ‘virus/antibody observations by electron microscope,’ ‘virus infectivity titer,’ and ‘morphological change,’ confused him as he scanned just the first few pages.
He understood what Joselyn had in her possession when she died contained notes about a virus of some kind. That much, he could grasp. But there were charts detailing numbers he couldn’t comprehend, a map of the United States with proposed spread (which Jameson only knew because it was labelled), and other informational graphs. It was all entirely over his head. The document was over six hundred pages long. Not only did he have no time to go through it all, he had no way to use the information he possessed. Joselyn had with her dying breaths given what appeared to be vital data to someone who had no way to use or even understand it.
“Son of a bitch,” Jameson whispered to himself. “Son of a bitch…”
“Something wrong?” Leland asked. He hoped to draw Jameson into conversation. Anything to distract himself from his aching head.
“Just a bunch of stuff I don’t understand,” Jameson answered. He cleared the document from his screen, logged out of his computer, shut it down, and repacked it before he spoke again. “Do you happen to know anything about viruses?”
Leland furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Is that what this is? Is that what happened to those people who killed my family? They’re sick?”
Jameson bounced the flash drive in the palm of his hand before
sliding it back into his pocket. He turned and leaned against the counter as he responded. “The information on this disc seems to indicate the possibility. I can’t imagine Joselyn was killed for something other than this data. It seemed important to her that I take it.”
“So what are you going to do with it?”
Jameson looked outside, into the deepening shadows of night. He pondered the kid’s question, trying to be honest with himself about his options.
He could move quickly and try to make his way to the CDC or some other facility capable of utilizing the information in a positive way. But he’d seen evidence even in his quick perusal of research into vampire DNA. He couldn’t risk that falling into the hands of the humans. It was the first rule he’d been told: avoid giving humans information about their kind. Do not kill them, turn those who would jeopardize the exposure of the vampire population, or speak with them about vampirism. Jameson assumed, ‘don’t hand over a document containing information about the genetic makeup of vampires,’ fell in the category of giving humans information.
So he couldn’t hand it over to the humans at the CDC. He had to find another vampire to give the flash drive to. The necessity to find another of his kind when the only one he’d even met was Joselyn would be frustrating to no end.
“I really don’t know,” Jameson finally answered. “I think I need to find someone who knows more about viruses than I do and hand it over. If this is a virus, maybe it can be cured.”
Leland wanted to be excited about that possibility, but what good would a cure do him now? He’d already lost anyone he could have cared about to the potential virus.
“Well, good luck with that,” Leland said. The heaviness in his voice made Jameson look at the kid with a bit more compassion than he had been. He was sixteen-maybe seventeen. He’d decided to try drinking away his recent experiences but had had no luck, even though it smelled as though the effort he’d made should have about covered horrific family murder memories. He was alone; truly alone from what little he’d said about himself.
Though the kid was too proud (and possibly too scared) to ask, Jameson was currently the best option for an adult who wasn’t slaughter mad who could lead him to some kind of safety. The kid had done well enough on his own so far, but what if this thing had spread farther than their little town? Leland seemed competent enough, but he was a kid on his own with no place to go. The more Jameson thought it through, the more he felt like an utter asshole for being so obsessed with the flash drive. He may not have been human anymore, but the human contact he’d given a kid who’d obviously experienced major trauma had been shit.
Joselyn had told him he was the strongest-willed person she’d ever met. Jameson told himself he could keep from munching on Leland at least until he found some humans he could send the kid along with.
“Hey, it’s no solid plan, but it’s better than hanging out in a corner store until someone drops a bomb on this place or more sick people overrun us, right? You want to try to find someone to give this to with me?” Jameson said. He attempted to bring some brightness to his voice. If he focused on raising the kid’s spirit, maybe he would stop getting so distracted by the alluring aroma of blood beneath his healthy, dark skin.
“Really?” Leland stopped squeezing the back of the chair he stood behind and brought his wide eyes up to meet Jameson’s. “I mean, I’ll try not to slow you down. I can run.”
“Can you fight?” Jameson thought the question was more important than the kid’s ability to keep up. If the vampire ran at full speed, Leland wouldn’t even be able to see him, let alone keep pace with him.
“I haven’t much,” Leland admitted, “but I can learn. I’m tough, and I’m strong.” His dad had taught him there was a distinct difference between the two. He sought to be both.
“We can only travel at night,” Jameson said with no explanation. He didn’t even know what answer he would give if Leland asked why, but thankfully, he didn’t. “We move quiet and smart. No cars, no guns.”
“No guns?!” Leland protested. Jameson relented with a sigh.
“Fine, if we find a gun we can take it with us. But you need to listen to what I say. You need to trust me.”
“We have to trust each other.” Leland’s firm voice reflected in a sheen of steel in his onyx eyes. The kid had spirit, Jameson thought. There were far worse companions out there.
“You’re right,” Jameson agreed as he reached out his hand for a shake. Leland shook his and the vampire nodded. “We have to trust each other. Now, we have to leave. Grab what you can. We need to try to find some other people.”
Chapter Eight – Crash – Phoebe
Rain began to lash the windshield of the van Phoebe drove through the quickening darkness. She mentally raged against it, but kept outwardly silent. It wouldn’t do the kids any good to hear her cursing and shouting at the rain. They’d already seen her run out of a house chased by the rabid, blood-drenched parents of one of the car’s occupants.
If Phoebe thought taking Carmen home was the best option to help her, she now found she had been sadly mistaken. Carmen had withdrawn even further into herself. She didn’t acknowledge any physical contact or words from the others in the car. She seemed robotic; doll-like with her unfocused eyes and shallow breathing. Phoebe didn’t know what to do for the girl, and that terrified her as much as anything else had as she drove into the fast-approaching night.
They’d seen more evidence of chaos the farther they’d moved into the city. Some buildings burned. Others had jagged teeth of glass in the frame where solid windows used to be. Bodies were on the street. Few at first, but more as they drove down the roads empty of vehicles.
The first body Phoebe had seen had been a teenage boy a little older than her. He’d been wearing a green hoodie with what looked to be their school logo on it. Her insides churned when she recognized his remarkably untouched face among the wreckage of his neck and upper body. Dark skin had been torn to bloody ribbons around his throat and blood pooled in the hood of his sweater. He wouldn’t be playing football for the school anymore.
A woman lying motionless by an overturned stroller clutched a previously pink blanket to her equally red-drenched chest. Phoebe turned away from the scene of the slaughtered mother holding the last bloody remnants of her child. She just couldn’t look at that.
Walkers who approached the vehicle were avoided and driven away from at high speeds. Most of them had blood on them. Many of them were injured in ways that should have driven them to the hospital but instead drove them to roam the roads, seeking victims to likewise wound.
“Phoebe,” Eli whispered from the backseat. “Where going?”
Phoebe’s hands jerked on the steering wheel. The involuntary response sent them lurching for a curb before Phoebe could right the wheel. After a few deep breaths, she responded to Eli in what she hoped was a calm voice.
“A farm, buddy. My uncle has a farm. There are horses there, and chickens. He grows his own food and has firewood stacked ten times taller than you. We’re going to stay there for a while and wait for your parents.”
She didn’t mention that she had no way to tell his parents where they would be. Mostly, she hoped whatever had happened to the city would be seen to by military forces or scientists or some version of the good guys. Then, she could send the kids with someone who would get them home. Maybe Carmen had other family she could go with. She certainly couldn’t go back to her mom and dad.
Or, Phoebe thought, maybe her mom and dad were just sick and whoever came to help could make them better. Then, Carmen could go back to them and Phoebe could stop feeling sick over the fact that she’d run away from them with their daughter.
After a long while, Eli agreed in a thoughtful tone, “Okay, Phoebe.”
The rain poured down harder, accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning and a wail of wind. Phoebe was surprised at the amount of pull the stormy breeze had on the large vehicle. Though she was able to right the van the fi
rst few times it swerved, she was no match for the next gale. The van hitched hard to the right and planted itself in a ditch.
Phoebe shook as she turned to check on the kids. Though the girls had been dozing, they wakened when the van shuddered to its violent stop.
“Are you guys okay?” she asked. She couldn’t find a way to get her voice up above a whisper. She felt any other words were captives in her throat.
Hannah nodded uncertainly. Eli said, “Yeah.” Carmen stared, her blank eyes taking in all the interesting views the back side of the passenger seat had to offer.
“Okay, we can’t get the van out the ditch without help. We need to get out and move.”
She didn’t explain why, but the kids didn’t question her. Phoebe had seen some of the glassy-eyed, violence-prone walkers not far back. Chances were high they’d heard the crash and would be coming to investigate. Phoebe wanted to get the kids moving well before that happened.
Down the road, two people had already begun to approach the vehicle. Phoebe trembled as she observed them moving toward her and the kids. She had to get them away.
“Hey, wait!” the man called out. He pulled his female companion along as he held up a hand toward Phoebe and the children. “We’ll help you get the van out. Just stay there a second.”
Phoebe waited. They were the first normal people she’d seen since they left the daycare. Her spirits lifted at once. Having more adults around to help her with the kids would be a huge weight off of her.
The man met Phoebe first with the woman close behind. He shook her hand rapidly. His brown eyes darted around, seeking out threats from the darkened homes and businesses nearby. As the sun set, it became harder to see approaching dangers, but there was a group of people who all looked abnormal. They stumbled and growled as they approached the van. It seemed their steps became quicker and surer the more the daylight dissipated around them.
The New Night Novels (Book 1): Rippers: A New Night Novel Page 4