The Decay of Humanity Series (Book 2): Descent of Humanity

by Dawn, M. K.

  The question caught Axel off guard. “I didn’t realize this was the end. Plus, it’s the right thing to do.”

  “You said this man tried to kidnap three kids?”

  Axel’s eyes locked on hers. “Yes, in the gas station parking lot.”

  Betty slipped her hand under the desk and the door buzzed. “I’m not saying you have to go through, or that I think you should….”

  Axel reached for the handle and yanked the door open. “I hope your mother feels better.”

  “Thank you.” She shuffled toward the door. “First door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

  “Be careful out there.” Axel let the door slam behind him. “Hello?” he called out.

  This had to be the smallest police office he’d ever seen. To the right, three desks were in the center of the room, each empty except for a computer and a ringing phone.

  The back wall had two doors, one a bathroom and must lead to the jail. On the left was a single office, the door closed and shades pulled down.

  Axel knocked, and when the sheriff didn’t respond, he cracked open the door.

  A gray-haired man sat at his desk, headphones on, staring at a silent TV.

  Axel waved, catching the man’s attention.

  He removed his headphones and turned off the TV. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

  Axel hooked his thumb toward the entrance. “Betty let me in.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Betty’s gone.”

  “Just left. Said her mother was sick.” When he didn’t respond, Axel continued. “I’m Axel, and I’m here to turn myself in. You must be Sheriff….”

  “Cornhill.” He leaned back in his chair. “Turn yourself in for what, son?”

  Axel sucked in air through his nose. “I killed a man, sir. Dr. James Hildebrand, I believe was his name.”

  “And you killed him? With what?”

  Axel raised both hands in front of him and slowly turned around. “The gun I have in the back of my jeans.”

  “Hands on your head,” Cornhill ordered, his boots slapping against the tile floor. “Don’t move. I’m going to seize the gun. Do you have a wallet?”

  “Back pocket.”

  Cornhill removed his gun and wallet. “Any other weapons I should know about?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have a seat.” Cornhill paused. “Wait. Before you sit, close the door. That damn ringing is driving me insane.”

  “Shouldn’t you be answering the calls? There’s a lot of crazy shit going on outside.” Axel took a seat across from the sheriff. “How do you want to do this?”

  Cornhill leaned back in his chair. “By this, do you mean your confession?”

  “Yes.” Axel had a sneaking suspicion this man had no intention of taking him seriously. “I can write it down if you’d like.”

  “Here’s the thing”—Cornhill pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his bottom drawer and poured a glass—“I can’t figure out. Why would you, a proclaimed murderer, come here and confess when you could have left? No one would have been the wiser.”

  “I would have.”

  Cornhill laughed. “A guilty conscience versus life in prison. Seems like a no-brainer.”

  Axel didn’t like the sheriff’s condescending tone. “I said I killed someone, not murdered.”

  “What’s the difference?” Cornhill gulped down his whiskey. “You took a life.”

  “And I saved several others.” Axel leaned closer. “Do you know what’s happening outside these walls? What’s happening to the victims of this so-called virus?”

  “It does something to their mind. Causes delusions. Violent outbursts.”

  Axel dropped his head. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say next. “At first, yes, but the virus… it’s killing people. Changing them into—”

  “Into what?” Cornhill poured himself another drink.

  “Monsters.” The word rolled off his tongue easier than Axel ever expected it to.

  Cornhill laughed. “Monsters? You’re fucking nuts. Is that why you’re here? Knew if you turned yourself in with this ridiculous notion, you’d get off by pleading insanity?”

  Axel slammed his fist on the desk. “Dr. Hildebrand stole a truck with three kids inside. After I pulled him from the truck, he jumped on a lady and nearly ripped her arm off with his teeth. So I put a bullet in his head. A few minutes later, he was back on his feet, the bullet wound healing at an impossible pace.”

  “Get up.” Cornhill rose to his feet. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Dr. James Hildebrand.”

  Axel didn’t resist. “I would like to speak to a lawyer.”

  “You don’t have much experience with this sort of thing, do you?” Cornhill rounded the desk. “Most ask to speak with a lawyer before they confess.”

  “Does that change anything?”

  Cornhill led him out of the office and toward the back. “I’ll have to lock you up. Not sure when the judge will be able to set your bail.”

  “And a lawyer?”

  Cornhill stopped at the first cell. “I’ll make a few calls, see who I can get a hold of. As for now, you just need to sit tight.”

  Axel stared at the only other prisoner being housed. “He looks sick.”

  “He’s drunk.”

  Axel backed away from the cell. “I’m not staying in there with him. Look at his skin. The color’s off.”

  “Still sticking with this story, huh?”

  Axel whipped his head around as anger boiled from within. “It’s not a story. This is how it starts. I’ll bet everything I have that someone—a very sick someone—bit him.”

  Cornhill’s face dropped. “How did you know that?”

  All the pieces were falling in place. “It’s how the virus spreads. After being bitten, they start displaying symptoms of their own. Become violent. Their skin turns gray. Mark my words, this man will die. And when he does, I don’t want to be in the same fucking cell with the thing he comes back as.”

  Cornhill stayed quiet for a moment, probably thinking about the next course of action. “My first instinct is to lock you in the cell with this man just to prove to you how crazy your theory really is.”

  Axel’s heart thrashed in his chest. He’d run before he allowed that to happened.

  “But,” Cornhill continued, “the state is always on my ass about being more sensitive to the needs of our prisoners. Last thing I need is some PC lawyer in here lecturing me about following protocol and shit.” He unlocked the next cell. “In you go.”

  “Thank you.” Axel entered the small space.

  Cornhill turned the lock. “Never thought I’d see the day when a man thanked me for locking him up.”

  “Yeah, well”—Axel took a seat on the squeaky bed—“never thought I’d see the day when a dead man came back to life.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Britney sped down the old winding road faster than she’d ever driven before.

  Molly and Blake sobbed quietly in the back, but it was Carson’s reaction that concerned her the most. His blank face focused out the window, watching the world fly by, scared her more than the other two’s crying.

  “Carson? You doin’ okay, honey?”

  His head bobbed, but he didn’t reply.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Not that she wanted to talk about it—she never wanted to think about the awful incident again—but if they needed to….

  “I don’t understand, Mommy.” Molly sniffled. “Dr. Hildebrand, he was a nice man. Why would he hurt Carson?”

  “Hurt Carson? What do you mean?” Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Are you hurt?”

  Carson lifted a trembling arm, revealing bloody marks.

  Britney swerved off the road and slammed on her brakes. “Come here! Let me see your arm.”

  “It’s fine, Mom.” Carson didn’t move.

  Britney threw off her seat belt and climbed in the back grabbing his arm. “Did he bite you?”

&nb
sp; “What?” Carson yanked back his arm. “Why would he bite me?”

  “Then how did you get these marks?” Britney tried to keep her voice calm, but inside she was shaking.

  “He scratched me with his creepy long nails.”

  Britney’s heart sank. She didn’t know what to do or if the virus spread through a scratch. “You might need to see a doctor.”

  “No.” Carson went back to staring at the window. “I just want to go home.”

  “Me too, Mommy.” Molly reached for her hand.

  Blake dropped his head in his hands and continued to cry. “I want to go home too.”

  They had been through such trauma, and the last thing she wanted to do was add any more. “Okay. We’ll go home. But, Carson, we are goin’ to get you cleaned up, and if I even think you look a little sick, it’s straight to the doctor.”

  “Whatever.” He leaned his head against the window. “Can we just go?”

  “Sure.” Britney climbed into the front seat and merged back onto the road. “We should do something fun later. How does homemade pizza and game night sound? Buy a new movie? We’ll pop some popcorn. Sound like fun?”

  They didn’t answer, their silence breaking her heart even more. Movie-game night was their favorite.

  She pulled up to their locked gate and parked. “Carson? Can you open the gate?”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t want to.”

  Any other time he refused to open the gate, she would have gotten pissed and ordered him out of the truck. This time was different; the fear in his eyes told her not to press. “Never mind, honey. I’ll get the gate.”

  Carson sniffled a quiet “Thanks.”

  Britney quickly unlocked and drove through the gate, checking the lock twice before heading toward the house.

  “Anyone hungry for lunch?” She parked the truck in front of the house and turned off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition. “I can make grilled cheese or mac and cheese or whatever you feel like.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Carson unbuckled his seat belt. “Can I play on my tablet?”

  “Yes.” She eyed her three children. “In your room. Take the twins with you, please. I need to check on Dad, and then I’ll come in with the first aid kit and get your arm cleaned up.”

  The kids left the truck without arguing, which was unusual. Carson usually put up a fight when told to play with the twins. Most of the time he and Blake got along okay, but both at one time didn’t go over so well.

  She lumbered out of the truck and into the quiet house. Setting her things on the table, she headed up the stairs and peeked into their dark room. “John?”

  When he didn’t answer, she flipped on the light and found the bed empty, the bathroom too.

  “Let’s play with our tablets in the tree house,” Carson yelled out as three sets of footsteps pounded the stairs.

  For a heartbeat she considered calling out to them and ordering them back into the bedroom. There she knew they’d be safe, close. But outside….

  She forced the thoughts away, not wanting to get caught up in her usual paranoid thinking. Her main concern at the moment needed to be hunting down John and forcing him back to bed. The last thing they needed was for John to have a violent outburst in front of the kids. They’d been through enough for one day.

  “John?” Britney called out, her voice echoing through the house. “Honey?”

  Out of nowhere, a terrifying scream ripped through the silence.

  Britney burst through her closet door without thinking. A mother knew the types of screams that came from her children, and whatever had caused Molly’s had scared her to her core. She pressed her hand on the gun safe’s scanner, the lock clicking with recognition. She grabbed the shotgun they kept loaded, then bolted down the stairs and out the door.

  “What’s wrong?” she shouted up at the kids in the treehouse, gun ready.

  “There.” Carson pointed toward the barn. “We saw something.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Like an animal? A snake?”

  Molly peeked over the side railing. “A monster.”

  Britney cocked her head and stared off in the direction of the barn. “A monster? Are you sure it wasn’t your dad walkin’ around? He’s not in the house.”

  “It had claws and sharp teeth.”

  The hairs on Britney’s arm stood up. “Stay up there. I’ll go check it out.”

  “No, Mommy!” Molly pleaded. “Don’t go.”

  Britney showed her the gun. “It’s okay. I have protection. Just stay here until I get back.”

  She jogged toward the barn, making sure her feet slapped the ground. If there was something out there and she made enough noise, hopefully it would scare whatever it was away. Or alert her husband—though he should have come when Molly screamed.

  She went barn by barn, shed by shed, checking each of them for the monster the kids swore they saw. By the time she finished, sweat dripped from her brow, and she was convinced the monster the kids saw was nothing more than a figment of their overactive imaginations. After the morning they had, who could blame them? She couldn’t go a couple of seconds without thinking about what could have happened if Axel hadn’t shown up.

  Pulling her phone from her pocket, she dialed John’s cell. He must have felt better and gone out to work on something. Idiot. At least he could have called and let her know.

  The line rang a couple of times, and in the distance, she could hear the faint sound of his ringer coming from the front of the house.

  She made her way toward the sound, ready to put this whole ordeal behind them. What she wouldn’t give to have his arms wrapped around her as she sobbed about the horrors of the day.

  She spotted him squatting in the small pasture to the right of the house they used for animals that needed to be keep separated from the others for various reasons. From this distance she couldn’t tell what he was doing—the position was a difficult one to get up from considering his size.

  “John?” The closer she got to the open fence, the better she could see just how bad her husband looked. “You need to get back inside and in bed. Did you even look in the mirror before you came out here?”

  John flinched at the sound of her voice and hunched his shoulders, digging his fingers into the ground.

  A chill ran down Britney’s spine at the strange reaction. Even on his worst days, she’d never seen him act so hostile.

  “Honey?” Britney kept her distance, remembering how violent John said Thomas had become. “Go back inside. I’ll finish up out here.”

  “Mommy!” Molly shouted from the tree house. “Look what we’re making.”

  Britney snapped her head toward the sound of Molly’s voice. “That’s awesome. Why don’t you come down—”

  A menacing growl cut her off. Britney whipped her head around and screamed at the creature dressed in John’s clothes.

  Its bald head and serrated teeth dripping with blood. The overall body shape was John’s, but there was nothing else connecting him to what stood ten feet away. With gray skin and solid black eyes, he looked like… a monster.

  She rotated her head so she could check the tree house and still keep an eye on the creature, which had returned to the dead calf it was eating.

  Her gut told her she needed to run, get as far away from this thing as possible, but her heart held her in place.

  Whatever had caused her husband to transform into this, he was still her husband, and she longed to help him however she could.

  As long as her children weren’t in any immediate danger.

  People didn’t just turn into monsters. If she could get him someplace secure and call the doctor, maybe wait until they found a cure….

  “Mommy!” Molly yelled. “I’m hungry.”

  Britney turned around and found Molly making her way down the stairs. “Wait! Stay there. I’ll bring—”

  John—the creature—sprinted past her at speeds her eyes could only make out as a blur of gray flesh.
<
br />   “Back up!” Britney shouted as she darted after John. “Stay up there!”

  Molly started climbing back up, but her little foot slipped on the makeshift ladder. “Mommy, help!”

  Britney couldn’t get there fast enough. John had already reached the bottom of the tree, jumping and clawing in the direction of Molly’s screams.

  “I got you.” Carson reached through the door and grabbed his sister’s hand, pulling her through the hole in the floor.

  “Close it!” Britney ordered, gun pointed at John.

  “Mommy!” Blake sobbed.

  “It’s okay, honey.” Britney aimed the gun at what used to be her husband. “Get away from the kids.”

  If he recognized her voice, it didn’t show. Clawing at the bottom of the tree, he acted more like a rabid animal than a person.

  She didn’t know what to do. The kids couldn’t stay up there forever; she feared he’d eventually figure out the ladder. She needed to get him away from the kids and find somewhere to keep him locked up. In a barn, maybe.

  “John!” she shouted.

  He jerked his head and then whirled around. Britney froze as his eyes locked on to her, but he didn’t move. Instead he jutted his chin and sniffed the air. He must have caught on to her scent; crouching down, he let out a horrendous growl and charged in her direction.

  Britney took off running toward the barns. The kids cried out for her, but she didn’t dare look back. She could hear he was following her. That was all that mattered.

  Bursting through the doors of the hay barn, she darted up the ladder to the top rafters. John entered a second later, pausing in the middle of the barn, sniffing the air and locking on to her scent.

  Another growl left his lips as he ran into a post trying to find a way up. The rafters shook, and Britney crawled along the wall, trying to see if she could get back down without being noticed. Then she could lock him inside.

  Britney froze, suddenly aware of how quiet the barn had grown. Popping up, she leaned over the edge, afraid he’d left in search of more active prey.

  Her gaze darted around the room. Where the hell did he go?

  She opened her mouth to call out his name when the now familiar growl came from behind her.