Extinction Gene Box Set | Books 1-6

by Maxey, Phil

  The religious symbols around the kitchen suddenly became obvious to Meg. “Oh, you practice?”

  He smiled again. “Served for thirty years… and then, well… then I stopped.”

  Meg restrained her curiosity. “You have been living here alone, throughout everything that’s happened?”

  “I have. I heard the news on the radio, and the truckers that came through here, told me what it was like in the cities, but I didn’t really believe it… until… I saw one of the demons.”

  “Demons?”

  “Yes. What else would you call them?”

  “We just kinda call them… ‘things,’”

  He smiled. “Well, from what I saw. Demon is a more accurate description.”

  “It was a virus… it does something to people and some animals… Some people, like yourself are immune from it… nothing supernatural about it at all… It’s all science gone horribly wrong…”

  He snorted then got to his feet. “Wait here.” He disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, the floorboards indicating he had moved into the single bedroom the home had, then reappeared with a book in his hand. She noticed the pieces of paper hanging from the pages.

  She held up a hand. “I’m not really much for the bible…”

  “This is not that book. This is a modern reprint of a work that was produced not long after Gutenburg started doing his thing…” He put the heavy book down and pulled open the cover.

  She pulled her collar away from her neck. Despite the chill in the air of the kitchen, she was beginning to feel warm.

  “Ah, here it is,” he said opening a page, then swiveled the book around and slid it forward. “Take a look.”

  Meg did a bad job of hiding her frown, but laid her hand on the volume and pulled it towards her. “It’s really not what…” A woodblock rendering of a figure with multiple eyes, arms and legs, looking akin to a spider looked up at her. Its resemblance to what she had seen over the previous few days was so close that the hairs stood on the back of her arms.

  “I see you recognize it too, just like I did when something similar to this staggered out of a pickup on the highway, just a few hundred yards from here.”

  She smiled, pushing the book away. “So some old monk drew a monster, six-hundred years ago… That doesn’t mean…” She wanted him to let it go. Talk about his life, what films he used to watch, how he ended up in a ran down shack, running a truck stop. Anything but carry on making sense.

  “Can you read Latin?”

  “No… not much call for that in Rocky Pine.” She looked towards the hallway, wondering if there was still room on the floor of the living room.

  He pulled the book closer, placing his glasses on the end of this nose. “Ex favilla nos resurgemus… Do you know what means?” She shook her head. “From the ashes we shall rise.” He sat back. “The ‘old monk’ you referred to, wrote that it was said to him by the demon in that illustration. Meaning, those things will create hell on earth…”

  Meg smiled. It was just her luck that the only human they find within hundreds of miles would be insane, but then was it really that much of a surprise considering what had transpired… “That’s… something to think about. I’m really tired, do you mind if I try and find some space on that floor in the other room?”

  He closed the book. “No, of course, please, rest. In the morning I will cook us all a grand breakfast… if… you plan to stay?”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but nodded regardless.

  “Good!”

  *****

  5: 07 a.m. Highway 24.

  Towers, triangular roofs, the unmistakable signs of civilisation were on the horizon and the two-lane road Jess’s sedan was on led right through the middle of it. She glanced to her right. Daryl was asleep, his head back, candy wrappers and empty soda tins on his lap.

  What if he draws them to us? He has to go… I have to leave him…

  She sighed as a large barn slid by, followed by empty cattle pens then a farmhouse. She tried to concentrate on the road but the buildings nearby were growing in size and frequency.

  She could feel them. The town they were driving through was like the others, full of human remnants. Forgotten, deformed and mutated by…

  You…

  She eased down on the gas, increasing their speed. Daryl murmured something then turned over.

  I’m not responsible for this. He… is.

  She hesitated to even think his name. The scientist that was working with others, a hundred feet below where she did her own research. Lucas seemed sincere in his protests of innocence. Perhaps he really did want to use her work for good, and maybe his father should have listened to his son, but… that’s not what destroyed the world. There was something else going on, she had always sensed it, right from the start. She wished she had more time with Amos.

  Amos had answers…

  He knew what Rackham was up to, maybe tried to stop him. But why did he want to protect her? Apart from her patent, why was she so important?

  The town outside the window was now just a dark blur as the speedometer bounced around eighty.

  Soon be back amongst farmland…

  Traffic lights flew overhead as they screamed across a junction, then another, the car bumping slightly. Daryl fidgeted again.

  Almost there…

  The homes and stores faded into the darkness behind and she expected to feel the scratching at the back of her mind to go with them, but instead it increased, becoming a pain which filtered down to her neck. She swung her head to the right, looking across her passenger to the supposedly flat landscape on the outskirts of the small town.

  “No…”

  Across the muddy field they stood, misshapen, mistakes of organic material. Watching her as she left their town.

  “Whoah,” said Daryl suddenly sitting up, the refuse he created falling into the footwell. “Why we going so fast?” He looked behind. “Did we go through a town?”

  She glanced in the mirror. The shapes melted into the others and she let out a breath, lifting her foot slightly on the gas.

  “Jess? You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Yes, we moved through a town, so I drove faster. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

  He blinked, opening another bottle. “Nah, I’m good. Think I’ll stay awake.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  5: 32 a.m. Highway 35.

  Curves of hills and impressions of trees flowed by in the dark, as Landon and the others drove through the Missouri countryside. Tracey was at the wheel, while he was in the passenger’s seat, the dog beneath his feet, and the others crammed into the back. Most though had somehow found a way to sleep.

  “How far you reckon we are now from Collier?” she said with a glance at him. He knew the point of the question. There had been no sign of anything living, monster or otherwise.

  “A few hundred miles, maybe.”

  “So… how much further do you want us to keep going in this direction?” She looked at the fuel gauge. “Reckon, we got maybe another fifty miles’ worth left.”

  They had passed through several towns on the way northwest, each one as dead as the previous. He was out of ideas as to how to find his family. If Meg and the kids had found a vehicle, and kept going they could still be ahead of them, whereas if they hadn’t, if they had to walk, they would be behind. It was a needle in a haystack, but then he knew all about that, being a detective.

  “Well?”

  He held his free hand up. “Just give me a minute.”

  What would Meg do… she would know if she went too far, Jess and I would not be able to catch up with her with the vaccine, so she would probably find a place to hole up.

  He nodded to himself. “Turn around. I think we passed a house a few miles back. Go back there.”

  She slowed.

  “We stopping?” said Arlo. His voice rough. He glanced at the butterfly stitches across the various lacerations on Brad’s neck and face and winced. The trai
nee paramedic had directed Landon a few hours earlier after a swift visit to a pharmacy.

  “To find some gas,” said Landon.

  “Good. I need to… stretch my legs. Be great if we could find another vehicle.”

  “Yup.”

  They were soon heading back along the undulating two-lane road, and up a rise stopping in front of a closed gate. The headlights lit some farm buildings, vehicles and a larger house further back.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s been any trouble here,” said Arlo.

  Landon got out, leaving Donnie behind. Flickers of icy flakes landed on his face as he walked forward, scouring the surrounding darkness and the buildings beyond. He lifted the latch, waited for any reaction, then on not hearing any, with some effort pushed the wooden gate all the way open. Tracey drove through and kept going for twenty or so feet, stopping in front of the deck which wrapped around the smart-looking two-story home.

  She was the first to see that the front door was open.

  “So much for no trouble,” said Brad, pushing himself painfully up in his seat.

  Landon walked past and Tracey pushed her door open, Donnie taking the chance to escape and bound around his feet. “Here, take this,” she said, offering Landon a pistol.

  He kept on going, the dog trotting along. “If there are any of those things inside, that’s not going to stop them.” He stood on the bottom stone step and tried to see the interior, but it was lost to shadow. Ignoring the burning from the below zero temperature, he sniffed the air. It held no trace of death.

  “What you reckon?” he said to the small dog.

  Donnie’s tail was erect, but Landon could tell it was the excitement of being free. The dog sniffed the steps, then slowly walked up them, Landon in tow.

  Arlo stood near the open car door watching, but Tracey closed hers and walked up the steps.

  Landon walked across the creaking boards and peered inside. Tracey stood behind, her revolver pointing into the darkness.

  On only hearing the wind, he switched on his flashlight, illuminating antique furniture against the nearby hallway wall and hardwood floors, then stepped inside, again waiting, just in case his instincts and the animal’s were wrong. He shook his head. “This house is empty.”

  “How you know?”

  Donnie ran inside, disappearing into the gloom.

  Landon swung the beam of his light across the picture frames on the walls and the sideboard, then further down to what he could see of a kitchen. “I just know. Tell everyone to get in here.”

  She wrapped her free hand around her elbow, rubbing to try and keep the circulation going. “I thought we were just finding gas?”

  “We’re staying here until morning.”

  She shrugged and turned, walking back to the car while he opened a door, revealing a spacious living room, with not an ornate pillow or porcelain figurine out of place. A tomb to what used to be.

  Heavy feet came from outside, Arlo briefly appearing in the doorway with Helen in his arms. “I’ll find somewhere for them to sleep,” he whispered.

  Landon nodded as a zombie like Agatha and Toby followed Arlo up the stairs.

  Brad came into the room, immediately, awkwardly collapsing onto the three-seater sofa. “I know you got somewhere to be, but I could really do with a few hours to enjoy this sofa.”

  Landon walked back to the hallway. “It’s fine. Get some rest.”

  *****

  7: 02 a.m. Highway 70.

  Warmth bathed Jess’s face and for a moment before she opened her eyes she was in bed, in Denver, enjoying the early morning sun, smelling coffee that Landon had already made, shouts coming from her children in the living room.

  She looked at the wall of the side of the gas station they were parked up at, then the sparkle of light in the east, which was already melting the frost from the sedan’s windshield. She looked to her right, anger immediately busting from her mouth. “That’s mine!” she said, grabbing the photo album from Daryl’s lap.

  He sat, frozen in shock. “Didn’t mean to intrude…”

  His expression just as quickly dissolved her emotion and she looked away, then down at the old photos behind the cellophane covering. It was of her mother. Big hair, shoulder pads, tight jeans. She smiled, placing a finger on the corner of the image, forgetting she was alone.

  “That your mother?”

  Her eyes moistened, and she closed the album, blinking. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Not long… I think about two hours.”

  She sat up, blowing out her cheeks and rubbing her eyes. “You see any of the things?”

  “Er, no, don’t think I have.” He gestured towards the backseat which was now a foot deep full of packets of food, bottles, maps, tools, clothes. “Took what I could from the store.”

  She nodded, letting out a breath. “Good. Any water?”

  “Yeah,” he took a new bottle from a pack near his feet and gave it to her, which she immediately opened and drank from.

  “Right, I’ll—”

  “Why don’t I drive?”

  “I’ve been looking at the roadmaps of this part of the state. Got it down, pretty well. I can avoid the small towns.”

  She looked at a man who wanted to be useful. “Sure.”

  He smiled. “Great.”

  She braced herself for the cold air and pushed her door open. “Need the restroom.” Before he responded she was already walking around the path to the front of the building, trying to rid her mind of sleep while scanning the muddied barren fields that surrounded the concrete oasis.

  A pickup with a horse trailer sat near to a gas pump, the rear doors open. The creature no doubt roaming the countryside. The station itself was fairly large with a row of brown glass windows, hiding tables and chairs of a diner. She looked inside, waiting for moment, but the ketchup and mustard containers sat alongside rotting food with no sign of any danger.

  She continued along, the air biting into her exposed skin.

  Meg and the kids have been on the road for seven hours. If they are driving, they could be—

  She pushed open the station’s door and without stopping moved past the aisles to the door marked with the restroom symbol.

  — into another state by now. Iowa or Nebraska.

  Pushing it open, she stopped at the entrance, making sure there were no sounds, then continued around the tight corner and into the tiled floor and walls of the restroom.

  How am I going to—

  A woman she hardly recognized looked back at her in the mirror. The reflection reminded her, of her mother. A woman who worked her role as a housewife until she died prematurely, just a few years after the picture was taken in the album. Jess walked forward and turned the faucet on. The pipes chugged and a trickle of water emanated from the tap, enough to cup her hands beneath and splashed the ice cold liquid across her face. Instantly an idea came with her clearer mind.

  Split up…

  Why were they both driving in the same car, along the same route? Why not find another vehicle and plan two routes, meeting up at the same point and time. At least that way they could cover twice the locations… She wiped the water from her face with her sleeve and looked again at the grime covered mirror. Her appearance had improved but she still looked ten years older.

  Just three more days…

  She pulled away the elastic band that had been keeping her hair back, ran her fingers through it and pulled it tight again, replacing the band, then reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the small bottle there. She always kept a few on her at all times. She held the clear liquid close to her eyes, examining it. The scientist in her wondered how it was created. What was its composition? It must contain part of the virus which ended the world…

  These were questions she couldn’t afford to ask. She unscrewed the lid and downed the contents, throwing the bottle in the trashcan then looked again in the mirror.

  How long do they have left… five more hours to get to Je
fferson…

  A knock came at the door. “You, alright in there?”

  She pushed the door open, making Daryl stumble back slightly. Ignoring his question, she looked out the store’s window to the pickup near the pump, then walked immediately to the maps on the shelf.

  “I, already got a few of those.”

  “I know,” she said, opening up a fold-out map, propping it up against a row of magazines, then traced her finger along the highway, finding their current location, then further eastward. “If that pickup outside has gas and keys, you’ll be driving it. We’ll keep going another few hundred miles, then split up east of Kansas City. That way we can cover more ground.”

  “Okay…”

  She looked at him with a smile, tapping his shoulder. “You might want to use the restroom, we won’t be stopping again until then.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  8: 07 a.m. Highway 63.

  Sam lifted her head and looked up to her right at the two boys, one at each end of the sofa, a sheet thrown over both. She had no idea of the time but light was streaming through the gap between the drapes confirming it was no longer night. A space alongside her was empty.

  Meg must already be up and about, she thought.

  She sighed.

  Still alive.

  It was a fact that she was unsure would continue from the moment in the parking garage in Denver and every hour since. But the death and mayhem was a blur in her mind and she liked it that way. Easier to dismiss and in three days’ time completely consign to history. Something that couldn’t be ignored though was how different she felt since her closest brush with death. When the virus took hold and almost transformed her into something else. She may not be a monster, but she knew she was not entirely human as well.

  As she lay there, wrapped in a thick woolen sheet, looking up at the paint chipped ceiling she wondered if her mother, wherever she was could also see like a cat at night, or could lift things three times as heavy as she could before. And there was the hearing thing. The youngster’s heartbeats were strong and regular, whereas Meg’s and the old man’s, jumped and skipped sometimes.