The Oklahoma Wastelands Series Box Set | Books 1-3

by Mary, Kate L.

  “Look,” Kellan said a few minutes later, raising his voice to be heard over the rushing wind.

  He kept his hands on the steering wheel as he nodded toward something in front of us, and I leaned forward, squinting so I could see through the dusty goggles on my own face. Thanks to the sun shining down on the landscape, it took a few seconds to make out what he was pointing at.

  Kellan eased his foot off the gas, and the car slowed, but he didn’t stop completely. His eyes, barely visible behind his goggles, were focused on the zombies lying on the side of the road. “More of them.”

  “So?” I didn’t have to yell to be heard since he was driving slower than before.

  Kellan’s mouth turned down in one corner and he shook his head, and a sudden sense of déjà vu swept over me. “Look at it, Regan.”

  I rolled my eyes behind my goggles before ripping them off. Some things never changed.

  Kellan still hadn’t stopped the car, but he was driving slowly enough that I was able to get a good look at the bodies as we rolled past. Flies buzzed around the half dozen zombies decaying in the sun, and the sight, as well as the stench of rotten flesh, turned my stomach. Still, I saw the same thing Kellan did. Not a single one of them had a head injury that I could see.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked when I’d turned back to Kellan.

  He shook his head, his gaze once again moving to the rearview mirror so I could look at our children. “I don’t know, but it’s like I told you. More and more are showing up like this. Dead, but no wounds. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  The hope I’d felt since he first mentioned it bubbled up inside me. “Maybe they’re finally dying?”

  “Maybe,” he mumbled but didn’t say anything else before accelerating.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence, rolling into Altus only a short time later. What was left of the city had been effectively engulfed by nature over the last twenty years, this side especially. The former businesses were crumbling ruins or so overgrown with weeds that they weren’t even recognizable. The college had burnt down five years back, along with most of the neighborhoods on this side of the city—including the houses we’d grown up in—and the Wal-Mart and Atwoods buildings were only shells of what they’d once been.

  I kept an eye out for movement as we drove, both because I wanted to make sure no one got the jump on us, and because I was curious about the zombies. There had been more and more reports of erratic behavior over the last few weeks, but I had yet to see it with my own eyes, and I was curious.

  Very little of the town we’d once called home remained thanks to weather and wildfires, but the Altus settlement still stood and was more alive with activity than ever. The people living there had long ago graduated from their primitive security system of zombie bodies, which I was more than thankful for, and when we rolled to a stop outside the gate, armed men greeted us instead of the stench of death.

  They recognized Kellan immediately and moved aside so we could enter. As we waited for the gates to open, I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head. A zombie was stumbling down the street toward us, but not the way I was familiar with. His steps were labored and clumsy, and he swayed like he was having a difficult time staying on his feet. He was still up when Kellan started driving, but before we’d made it through the gate, he stumbled one final time and fell to the ground. His body flopped a few times then went still.

  What the hell was happening?

  Kellan drove through the gate and pulled to the side, ripping his goggles off the second he’d put the car in park. He turned then, a real smile on his face as he looked at our kids.

  “Who’s ready to see Aunt Daisy Mae?”

  “Me!” they chimed in unison.

  I only rolled my eyes. Kellan loved to do this, and Daisy Mae, to her credit, put up with it, but her temperament hadn’t improved in the last ten years, and she was definitely not a kid person.

  “You are horrible,” I said as I climbed out.

  Kellan pulled himself from the driver’s side and grinned at me from over the top of the car. “You love it.”

  I only rolled my eyes.

  Bethany climbed out on my side, and I lifted her into my arms, groaning a little. “You’re getting big.”

  I poked her in the belly as I moved to the other side of the car where Kellan and Jasper stood waiting, and she giggled. Together, the four of us headed toward the market on the other side of the square, talking and laughing. Kellan had Jasper’s hand, and like always, the little boy was twisting and turning so he could see the horses milling around in the streets.

  The road had fissured even more over the last ten years, letting in more weeds, and after years of trying to keep up with it, the town had given up. The obvious answer had been to let the horses living inside the settlement roam free, acting as living lawn mowers. It did the trick, for the most part, but here and there weeds still poked up, tall and strong. They tickled my legs as I walked, but I was used to it by now.

  It had been years since I’d bothered comparing the Altus settlement to the town I remembered from my childhood, but for some reason, I found myself doing it now. I remembered the close-knit community that used to exist, as well as the numerous events that had been held right here in this very spot. Chili cook-offs, the Rock N’ Rumble car show, the yearly Walkin’ On Chalk contest where community members would decorate whole sections of the sidewalk in brightly colored drawings. It should have made me sad, but with my daughter in my arms and my husband and son at my side, I found it difficult to mourn that world. Despite the hardships and loss, I was happy with the life I’d created for myself. Happy with the little family Kellan and I had created.

  The market stood in the same building it always had, and like usual, we headed to the back of the room to Simon’s booth. He saw us coming, and his eyes lit up the way they always did when he had a juicy piece of gossip to share.

  “What’s going on out there?” he asked before we’d even stopped in front of him.

  “Outside the walls?” Kellan asked, his eyebrows lifting.

  “Where else would I be talking about?” Simon spit at him.

  He reached under the counter, and Kellan leaned his hip against the booth, waiting to see what the old man had to say. When he dropped the National Newspaper in front of Kellan, all he did was frown.

  “Lookie here.” Simon tapped his finger on the paper.

  Looking like he wasn’t expecting much, Kellan picked it up. His face was expressionless as he unfolded it, but as he scanned the paper, his eyes got wider and his mouth fell open, and I found myself standing up straighter.

  Kellan looked at Simon. “This can’t be true.”

  “You tell me,” the old man said.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  I hugged Bethany tighter, and she rested her head on my shoulder.

  Kellan focused on me. “It says Star is dead, and the Church has taken over the government, and that Angus James is back. That he returned to wipe out the zombies once and for all.”

  The Church had gotten more powerful over the years, enough that they even had followers all the way out here, and it was pretty much impossible to escape their teachings completely anymore. I’d heard their proclamations about how Angus James would one day return to save the world, but I also remembered what Jim had told us all those years ago.

  “You think they rescued him from the CDC?” I asked.

  Kellan tossed the paper on the counter, shaking his head like he either didn’t believe what he’d just read or he wasn’t sure. “Based on what we know and what we’ve seen, I’d say it’s pretty likely. It could also explain why the zombies are dying.”

  “So, it’s true?” Simon asked, raising his voice like he was afraid we weren’t going to hear him.

  “We’ve seen it,” Kellan told him.

  “But what does this mean?” I asked.

  Kellan looked at Bethany, and then down at Jasper, sa
ying nothing for a moment before finally looking back at me. “I think it means we have a chance of things returning to normal. I think it means humanity is going to survive.”

  I hugged Bethany closer to me, but this time the gesture wasn’t out of fear or dread, it was out of hope. Hope that our children might one day live in a world similar to the one we’d grown up in. Not the same—that was impossible at this point—but one that was better than the one we’d been living in for the past twenty years. A place where they could walk down the street and not worry about the dead, where they could grow old instead of dying a horrible death at a young age. A place where they could have a real life. Only time would tell.

  Bonus Content

  Embracing the Insanity

  A Novelette from Broken Stories

  Chapter 1

  Colorado

  Kristine took Brady’s hand and wrapped her fingers around his, and for the millionth time since they’d met, he marveled at the juxtaposition of their entwined fingers. Hers long and slender and elegant. His short and stubby. Even after all these years, he couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to make this beautiful woman love him.

  “Brady,” she whispered, her voice raspy and weak.

  He leaned closer so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “I’m here.”

  For the past day and a half he’d sat beside his wife, watching her fade away right in front his eyes. The pain she’d endured made him physically hurt, almost as if he were the one whose bones ached. Who couldn’t keep anything down. Whose body had been ravaged with fever.

  He wasn’t, though. When Kristine caught the virus, Brady had been sure he wouldn’t be far behind. There was no way God would be cruel enough to take the only person who had ever truly loved him, leaving him alone yet again. But Brady hadn’t gotten get sick, and even now when he knew his wife was reaching the end, he was as physically healthy as he had been two weeks ago. A month ago. A year ago. Emotionally, however, he felt crippled.

  “Brady,” Kristine said again, quieter this time.

  Her eyes were glassy, and when she reached out with her free hand, she grasped at air like she couldn’t find him.

  He leaned forward so her hand could find his cheek, and the heat emanating from her skin almost made him pull away. When his eyes filled with tears, a sudden gratitude came over him. He had no idea how he’d survive her leaving him, but if nothing else, he could be thankful for the fact that she was too delirious to realize he was teetering on the edge.

  “Kristine.” He pressed his lips against her palm, and the way her own lips trembled made Brady believe she could feel it. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here.”

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, making Brady’s vision even blurrier than before.

  The words quivered out of him when he said, “I won’t.”

  It was ridiculous, of course, because Brady wasn’t the one going somewhere. Kristine was the one leaving. Leaving this world for a better place while he would be forced to pick up the pieces. Assuming he could find some. He knew the human race was on its way out. He’d seen the news reports before the electricity had shut off, and he knew most of his neighbors where already dead. If anyone was left in the small, gated community he and Kristine lived in, Brady would be surprised.

  His wife moaned and he shifted to move the chair closer to her. It wasn’t an easy feat. His legs didn’t reach the floor, so he was forced to grab hold of the bed and pull the entire chair forward, which meant letting go of his wife’s hand. Which also meant listening to her cry out when she thought he was gone.

  “Brady!” she sobbed.

  “I’m here,” he cooed, trying this best to keep the tears out of his voice.

  Her hand grasped at air until Brady had grabbed hold of it, clasping it between both of his. Kristine’s hand felt lighter than a feather and frail, and nothing like the strong woman she’d always been.

  “I’m here,” he repeated, at a loss for what else to say.

  She seemed to settle down, but her sobs didn’t stop. They never did, and she never spoke again after that, either.

  As vigilant as ever, Brady didn’t move from his position. He sat as still as a statue, watching her face and counting the beads of sweat on her brow, noting the greasiness of his wife’s once beautiful, blonde hair. Cursing the paleness of her skin and the dark rings under her eyes.

  After what felt like hours, her body began to shake, but her eyes remained shut. Tiny tremors moved down her arms until Kristine’s hand trembled between his. Then she went limp. Her chest rose and fell. Slowly. Intermittently. Like her lungs were trying to decide if the effort was worth it. The breaths that did come out were raspy and strained, and every line on her face was tense despite her slack hand.

  Then she let out one, final harsh breath. It was longer than the others, like all the air had been forced out of her lungs. Her features finally smoothed and in the blink of an eye, her cheeks went from rosy to a strange shade of gray, and Brady knew it was over.

  He sobbed. He held her hand and rested his forehead on her chest and cried like a child while the walls of his heart crumbled to pieces. It felt like a bomb had gone off inside him, and the intensity of the pain left him feeling physically unable to stand, unable to walk, unable to do anything but cling to the woman he’d loved with every fiber of his being.

  He didn’t know how long he stayed that way, hours or days or maybe even years, but when he finally forced himself to slide off the chair, his back and neck were stiff.

  The sun was just rising outside, but Brady had to wipe the tears from his eyes before he could see it clearly through the bedroom window. The sky was bright orange and pink, and more beautiful than it should have been, and the thought entered his mind that the Earth had no business going on the way it always had when Kristine lay there dead. She was the only real angel Brady had ever known, and it was only fair that the planet should mourn her death as much as he did.

  Without thinking it through, Brady headed downstairs and into the garage. It was pitch-black thanks to the lack of electricity, but he was able to find the shovel hanging on the wall right where he last remembered seeing it. The thing was taller than him, but that was a plight Brady was used to, and seemed like a minor inconvenience in light of everything else that had happened.

  Shovel in hand, he went out the side door and to the front yard and began to dig. Right in front of the rose bushes Kristine had so lovingly tended these past four years.

  It was hard work, and Brady was drenched in sweat before the sun had come all the way over the horizon. But he didn’t slow, and he didn’t even mind. Digging the hole that would be his wife’s final home gave him something to focus on. Something other than the realization that he was alone in a world built to accommodate much bigger people.

  Before long, the hole had gotten so deep he had a hard time throwing the dirt out of it, and he realized if he dug much more he wouldn’t be able to climb out. Brady knew six feet was the standard depth, but being a dwarf meant he’d had to adjust nearly everything he did in life, and the grave for his wife would be no different.

  Once he’d hoisted himself out of the hole, he went back inside, pausing in the entryway to remove his muddy shoes. Kristine had been a stickler about keeping the house clean, and even though stuff like that no longer mattered, Brady couldn’t bring himself to do things differently so soon after his wife’s death. Maybe he never would.

  He went upstairs and as gently as he could manage, undressed Kristine. Once that had been accomplished, he went to work cleaning her up. It had taken less than two days for the virus to take her, but even in that short time the illness had managed to ravage her body. Her ribs showed through her pale skin and her hip bones jutted out as if on the verge of breaking through her flesh, and her limbs looked so frail he was afraid they would snap if he was too rough with her.

  The slight swell of her belly remained, however; a reminder of what Brady had really lost. Not just his wife and the only
woman he had ever loved, but a future as well. A family. Things he’d never even dared dream he’d have when he was young.

  Brady ran his hand over the bump. It was so small that most people hadn’t noticed it yet, but every night when he and Kristine had lay in bed, he’d made a point of talking to the life growing inside her. He’d made so many promises it would have been impossible to live up to them all, but he’d meant every word. Had intended to give this baby everything he’d never had himself.

  It only made the pain of the loss more intense.

  When he couldn’t stand looking at it any longer, he dressed his wife in a simple black dress. The process was difficult since she’d been a whole foot taller than him, but he managed to get it done without disturbing her peace too much. Then he spread a white sheet out on the floor of their bedroom and, as gently as he could, pulled his wife’s body off the bed. He wrapped her in the cloth and pinned it shut, then began the exhausting process of getting her down the stairs.

  He pulled her by the shoulders, cringing with each thump her feet made against the steps. Sweat once again broke out across his forehead and dripped down into his eyes. It stung, making him blink, and halfway down the stairs he had to pause to wipe it away.

  By the time Brady reached the first floor, he was out-of-breath and his throat was so dry his tongue felt almost reptilian. He tried to swallow, to muster up even a few drops of saliva, but it was pointless. It was then that he realized he hadn’t had anything to drink since his wife had gotten ill.

  “Soon,” he said, uncertain if he was talking to himself or to the body lying at his feet. “First, we’ll put you to rest.”

  He continued dragging Kristine, across the entryway and out the front door, then down the steps so he could get her to the hole.