by Young, D. M.
Dead Heat
A Hollow Dead Novel
D.M. Young
Copyright © 2019 D.M. Young
Dead Heat
A Hollow Dead Novel
by D.M. Young
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Victoria Davies
www.dmyoungauthor.wordpress.com
For my husband, John, and my mother, Brenda.
Thanks for not beating me to death with my manuscript when I changed it “one more time.”
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is an adventure. I’ve joked that the book had begun to feel like a group project by the end, but there is some truth in that. I simply could not have written this one without help and feedback from others. However, any mistakes you may find, you can blame on me alone.
First, let me thank my husband and my mother for the countless hours spent reading, editing, and helping me organize my jumbled thoughts into a coherent story. Without the two of them, I’d still be fighting with Chapter 1.
I also want to thank two awesome friends of mine – Barrett for his knowledge of all things firearm related and Paula for answering probably the weirdest medical question she’s ever gotten.
Finally, my sincere thanks and love to Pam, Bill, Sherry, Ricky, Terri and all of the other family and friends who have given feedback and encouraged me to keep writing. Your cheerleading is probably what got me through the fifth or sixth edit.
Prologue
Monday, July 13
Dr. Michael Carlson stared at the computer screen. It was late. He was tired, but he couldn’t leave until he figured out what was happening. Behind him, his office door was thrown open, slamming against the wall. He turned to see Anthony Benton standing in the doorway. His face was white. He held a single sheet of paper in his hands.
“What is it?” Carlson asked.
“We have a problem,” Anthony said. His voice quivered as he spoke.
“In the lab? Has something happened with Monroe?” Carlson asked, alarmed.
“Not the lab. You asked us to monitor things on the outside, just in case? This call just came through,” he said, handing the paper to Carlson.
Carlson scanned the information. His hands were shaking now. “Dear God, it’s out. Get the Stonefield team in the conference room. I’ll meet you there.”
When Anthony was gone, Carlson unlocked the safe in the corner of his room and pulled out the flash drive that was stored inside. He stuffed it into a hidden compartment in his briefcase. They would get this under control. He was almost sure of it. Still, if this thing got out of hand, he wasn’t going to be their scapegoat. This was his insurance. If he went down, he would take them with him. With the flash drive stored safely away, Carlson grabbed the red file folder from the corner of his desk, took a deep breath, and headed for the conference room.
CHAPTER 1
Friday, July 24
Nathan Roberts sang along to the radio as his truck bounced down the gravel road. He hoped the county would grade it soon. The last heavy rain had left deep ruts, and the recent drought and heat had hardened the road, ruts and all, into something akin to concrete. Not too many people lived out this way so the county was reluctant to spend much to maintain it. The truck hit a particularly deep set of ruts, and Nathan pushed down on the brake and slowed the truck to a crawl.
From the top of the next hill, he saw that a car had run off the road into the brush on the other side of the road. The front bumper had come to rest just inches from the trunk of a huge oak tree. Nathan pulled his truck as far off of the road as possible and climbed out. He could see Ernest Winford leaning into the backseat of the car.
“Everything OK?” Nathan asked.
The old man straightened and looked at him. “Help me,” Ernest said. “She’s sick. I was trying to get her to the doctor, but I looked away from the road for just a second and...” His words trailed off as he waved his hand toward the car.
Betty Winford was lying in the backseat. She didn’t look good at all. The Winfords were friendly people. Nathan had known them most of his life, and he knew that Betty had always been fiercely proud of her appearance. Now, he could see that her hair was matted, and she had deep circles under her eyes. Instead of her usual well-pressed outfits, she wore a wrinkled house dress and slippers.
Nathan dialed 911, but the call wouldn’t go through. The reception was patchy in this area. He checked his phone, saw that he had a single bar, and tried again. It rang, and the operator answered. Before he could speak, the phone beeped, telling him the called had been dropped. He cursed and dialed again. After two more attempts, he got through to the operator and explained the situation.
At the operator’s request, he leaned in to get a closer look at Betty. Her skin was pale and mottled, and her breath was ragged. As Nathan described her condition to the operator, Betty drew one final breath. Then she was silent. For a moment, he just stared. He had never been present at the death of another person, and he hoped this was not going to be a first.
Nathan’s hands were sweaty from heat and stress, and he dropped the phone. Quickly, he fished it out from under the seat and put it back to his ear. He told the operator that Betty was no longer breathing, and he checked her pulse as instructed. No, he did not know CPR, but the ambulance was close. He could hear the sirens.
As he braced himself to get out of the car, Betty’s eyes opened, and her hand grasped his arm. Nathan watched bewildered as she guided his arm to her mouth. Her teeth clamped down on his arm, and he jerked it away. Betty moaned and reached for him again, but he shot out of the car before she could grab him.
Nathan watched as two ambulances pulled in behind the car. He moved aside, happy to let them handle the situation. He hurriedly explained to them what had just happened, but he only told them that Betty had tried to bite him. After all, the scratch on his arm hardly qualified as a bite, and he was anxious to get home and be done with this day. Besides, they had their hands full with the real emergency.
The EMTs carefully avoided Betty’s mouth as they wrestled to get her on the stretcher and strap her down. She fought them the entire time moaning and growling. Ernest insisted on riding with Betty. When she was safely loaded into the back of the ambulance, it pulled away.
Randy Coleman, a paramedic from the other ambulance and Nathan’s friend from high school, walked over to say hello. “Hell of a way to end the day, huh?”
Nathan snorted. “And I was almost home safe and sound.”
“Did I hear you say she tried to bite you?” Randy asked.
Nathan raised his eyebrows. “She did bite me actually. She didn’t do any real damage.”
Randy inspected the mark on Nathan’s arm and shook his head. “Good thing you got quick reflexes. Judging by the way she was fighting us, I’d say you got lucky that she didn’t tear your arm off. It’s just a scratch, but you should probably see a doctor. Human bites can get infected. At least let me clean and bandage it for you.”
Nathan sighed but figured he’d catch hell from Sarah if he didn’t at least let Randy fix him up. “Yeah, go ahead and bandage it, but, if you talk to Sarah, I cut my arm on the car. Otherwise, she’ll have me in the emergency room getting rabies shots.”
Randy laughed and began working on his arm. In a few minutes, Nathan was on his way home, once more.
Sarah was setting the table when Nathan walked through the door. A flowered apron covered her shirt and the upper portion of her jeans. It was tied tightly around her slim waist, saving her clothes, but a mere apron could not save the rest of her from her messy cooking habits. Nathan chuckled quietly at the powdery, white streak in her blonde hair and the smudge of flour on her cheek. Sarah smiled and winked at him as she sat the last plate on the table, “Just in time! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and glanced at the pan of fried chicken sitting on the stove, “Looks great. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll be back down.”
Sammy, their seven-year-old German shepherd poked his head from under the table and grinned at him. His tail thumped against the hardwood floor, but he didn’t come out to greet Nathan. He knew that Sammy was trying very hard to become invisible in hopes that Sarah would not banish him from the room before meal time when he could scavenge any food that made its way to the floor.
Emma was in the family room with an assortment of dolls and stuffed animals, all apparently engaged in some sort of social event involving tea cups and fancy clothes. At five years old, she was the baby and the only one who could get by with bringing half her bedroom downstairs. Her blonde curls bounced as she whipped her head toward him and waved as he walked into the room. “Daddy, come have some tea and cookies!”
Nathan laughed. “I can’t have cookies yet. It would ruin my dinner, and your mom would be mad.”
Emma looked confused. “They’re not real cookies. We’re just playing pretend, Daddy.”
Nathan tried to keep a straight face. “Well, in that case, let me get a couple of them to take up stairs with me.”
He plucked two imaginary cookies from the plate and pretended to take a bite of one. “Delicious!” he said. Emma giggled with delight as he walked away.
He ducked into the office to set his briefcase down and then headed upstairs. The other two kids seemed to be missing – not surprising since coming downstairs meant the chance of being drafted into service in the kitchen. He could hear music coming from Josh’s room, and Nathan figured he was texting or gaming. Gracie’s room was quiet, which meant she was probably engrossed in some new book about vampires, wizards, or something else equally as magical. Oh well, it wasn’t Shakespeare, but at least she was reading.
Nathan made his way to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. He was beginning to feel a little weak. He took some aspirin for the headache that was spreading slowly across his forehead. Then he changed into some old shorts and a worn tee shirt, and headed back to the kitchen. On his way down, he called for the two older kids to come down to dinner.
The table was now set for five. Emma was standing on a stool at the sink washing her hands. Nathan saw that Sammy had managed to avoid detection so far and was now curled up near the chair in which Emma would soon sit. As the youngest, she was the most prone to spilling her food.
Sarah noticed the bandage on his arm, and he mouthed, “Later.” She frowned but dropped the subject for the moment. Everyone filled their plates except Nathan. He didn’t have much of an appetite, and the aspirin had done nothing for his headache.
Eventually, the kids asked to be excused. Sarah dismissed them and began gathering the dishes. Nathan stood and emptied his glass of iced tea into the sink. Then he rinsed his plate and handed it to Sarah. She looked concerned now.
“Are you OK?” she asked, her forehead creasing.
“It’s been a long day, and I think I’m coming down with something. Kind of early in the year for the flu, but that’s what it feels like. I just don’t have much of an appetite. Sorry. Dinner was awesome. I wish I could’ve eaten more.”
Sarah’s eyes focused once more on the bandage, “What happened to your arm?”
“Yeah, that,” Nathan said. He told her what had happened, replacing a bite with a cut. When he was done, she shook her head.
“Wow,” she said. “Did they say what was wrong with her?”
Nathan shook his head and ran a hand through his short brown hair, massaging his scalp and wishing the pain would subside.
Sarah frowned, “Betty’s such a sweet woman. I hope she’s OK.”
Nathan took her hand and squeezed it. He leaned down and laid his forehead against hers. When he closed his eyes, he felt dizzy. His body ached. He just wanted to lie down. It was early, and the kids would be disappointed. Friday night was game night. It was normally a night that the whole family looked forward to, but tonight there would be no games.
He told Sarah that he was heading to bed. Then he went into the living room to break the news to the kids. They were disappointed, but one look at him was enough to stop any complaints from the older two.
“But it’s Friday!” Emma protested.
Sarah sighed, “Yes, but Daddy’s sick. I’ll tell you what. You can pick the first game next week, alright?”
Emma considered this for a moment, “What if we just played one game tonight?” Sarah shot her a look that said the discussion was over.
“Fine,” Emma said, “but we’re playing UNO next week.”
Sarah followed Nathan up to say goodnight. She kissed his cheek, and frowned. “You’re burning up. Maybe we should get you to the emergency room,” she said, knowing that he wouldn’t allow it.
“No, I just need to lie down for a while. I’ll be better tomorrow. I’m not going to wait for hours and pay hundreds of dollars just to have some doctor tell me to do exactly what I was doing before I went to the ER.”
“OK, but if you’re still sick tomorrow, you’re going to the doctor even if I have to drag you in there,” Sarah said.
“Sure,” Nathan said as he waved her off and climbed into bed. He didn’t feel like arguing about it right now.
* * *
Sarah returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Emma lay stretched out in the floor. With game night canceled, her dolls had resumed their tea party.
Gracie sat down beside Sarah, holding her phone out, “Look at this dog wearing sunglasses. Can we get a pair for Sammy before we go to the beach next month?”
Sarah smiled, “We’ll see, but I think Sammy would probably just eat them.”
Gracie giggled, “Yeah, probably.”
Sammy was curled up on the floor at her feet. He looked at them quizzically and tilted his head. Gracie laughed, and Sammy’s tail thumped a few times. She scratched his head and slid down onto the floor beside him. He laid his head in her lap as she scratched his tummy.
With the kids entertaining themselves, Sarah leaned her head against the back of the sofa. It had been a rough day for her, too. She’d gotten a call from her doctor. They had found something during her last exam, and they wanted her to come in next week for more tests. Maybe it was nothing, but she was still concerned. Now Nathan was sick, and she didn’t want to worry him. By 9:00 p.m., she was tired. She told Emma to get ready for bed. Gracie groaned loudly.
“Mommy, I’m not sleepy!” Emma objected.
“Neither, am I!” cried Gracie knowing that, since she and Emma shared a room, she would be going to bed as well. “And it’s a Friday. We don’t have school tomorrow. Please let us stay up until at least ten.”
“No. I’m worn out. Your dad is sick, and we may have to take him to the doctor tomorrow morning so go to bed. I want you there in ten minutes.”
Josh kept quiet. Sarah knew he was trying not to draw attention to himself. “You, too,” she said, looking his direction. He rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone.
“Mom, have you seen my charger?” he asked as he lifted the pillows on the love seat.
“No, it’s probably in your room.” she said absently as she helped Emma shove miniature tea cups back into an old purse.
Josh huffed, “Never mind. I guess I’ll find it tomorrow.” He stomped up to his room.
Sarah sent the girls off to bed and looked at the dog still curled up beside the sofa. �
��Need to go out, Sammy?”
Sammy jumped to his feet and took a few steps. He danced in a circle, nipping at his tail as he spun around. Sarah stepped toward the kitchen, and he wagged his tail happily and ran toward the patio door. As he passed the stairs, he froze. His tail stopped wagging, and the hair on his back rose. He looked up the stairs for a moment and then growled softly. Sarah barely noticed. She walked to the door and called for him, but he stood frozen, looking up the stairs.
“Come on, Sammy!” Sarah said in an irritated voice, and he reluctantly made his way to the back door. Just before going out, he gave one more glance toward the stairs and growled again.
Outside, no spot seemed to be just right for Sammy. Sarah collapsed into a chair at in the little breakfast nook, watching him through the glass doors. Sammy trotted across the yard, his nose pressed close to the grass, tracking some small animal that had invaded his space in recent hours. After ten minutes, Sarah had had enough. A huge backyard and still the dog could not find a spot to poop.
She stepped out into the yard, grabbed his water bowl from his pen, and filled it. Sammy wandered over to see what she was doing, and Sarah led him into the pen, hugged him, and promised to let him in the house first thing in the morning. He licked her face and whined, but his tail wagged.
Once she was finally upstairs, Sarah dressed in her night shirt, and lay down beside Nathan. His skin was still hot, but his breathing was regular. She was worried about him. He was seldom sick. She stared at him for several minutes. He did not stir as she ran her hand through his hair and kissed his cheek. Normally, she would snuggle up to him, but tonight his body was radiating heat, and his skin was sticky. She moved to her side of the bed and kicked the covers off. A few minutes later, she drifted off to sleep.
* * *