The Inroad Chronicles (Book 1): Legion Seed

by Erickson, Brian

  Heading east, Jackson studied every sign they passed and looked over at Kathleen. “You think we should try to find some little cabin in the mountains?”

  She leaned against the door gazing out the window. “I don’t know. That seems pretty difficult. I don’t know where any cabins are, do you?”

  “No, not off the top of my head, I was thinkin’ maybe we could stop at a Ranger’s station and look for maps and other info. That might lead us somewhere safe and secluded.”

  “Yeah, but how long can we hold out like that? We would have to occasionally venture out to find food, and then we would be as vulnerable as if we just found some place less isolated.”

  Beverly followed the conversation while dabbing Michael’s infection with an ointment covered gauze pad. “I don’t think we can carry him to some little cabin in the forest. We have to stay somewhere that we can drive right up to. And he really needs a bed to recover in, until this infection wears off.”

  Kathleen nodded as she looked over at Jackson. “That’s true; we can’t carry him into some remote mountain area. Look at him. We’ll probably have enough trouble just getting him out of the Jeep and into a house.”

  Jackson chewed on his lip as he looked at Beverly leaning over Michael in the rearview mirror and nodded to himself. He noticed how pale his skin looked, and he could clearly tell Michael had a fever well over a hundred degrees, inside the critical zone. He had clammy skin, and his hair stayed wet all the time from perspiration. The dark circles under his eyes resembled a raccoon's and his lips looked wrinkled enough to crack as one would expect to see on a person wandering through a desert without water. Jackson could not recall Michael uttering a word after they first spoke in the basement. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. He does look pretty sick.”

  They drove on in silence for a while, scanning the world beyond the vehicle for opportunities or signs of danger. Jackson stole glances in the mirror and to his side and saw that everyone was staring ahead lost in thought. That got him thinking as well, mainly the worst, and nobody noticed when they passed a sign telling them that they would enter the little town of Purdah in a couple miles.

  Jackson sat up as the change in scenery brought him back to reality. “It looks like we’re coming up on somethin’. I can see more houses than before.”

  Kathleen sat up in her seat. “I can just make out some small buildings off in the distance, a small town probably.”

  Beverly leaned forward toward the front and looked out the windshield. “I think I’ve been here before. It’s the last little town for a while. After this you get deep in the mountains, nothin’ else around.”

  Jackson nodded as his eyebrows came together. “Well, I guess we should check it out then. If we pass this up we might not find anything else to hold up in.”

  They rolled onto Main Street and Kathleen pointed ahead, without saying a word, at a doubled-over body on the road in a pool of blood.

  When they rolled past the post office and saw the two bodies in front, nearly cut in half, Jackson’s jaw dropped. “What happened to them?” He slowed down and stared out the window. “Do you think a chainsaw did that?”

  Kathleen shook her head. “Those look like bullet holes. But what kind of gun could do that? Do you think the military’s been through here clearing them out?”

  “Somebody has. Those things didn't cut themselves in half.” Jackson touched the gas pedal and continued on slowly, continually scanning the area.

  Beverly spoke up with a trembling voice. “Find some place fast! He’s getting worse.”

  Jackson and Kathleen looked back at Michael. He had not fallen asleep, but could not keep his eyelids open. They fluttered up and down rapidly, never opening more than halfway. Then his eyes rolled back in his head for a second and came back down.

  If he did not know that Michael had an illness, Jackson could have sworn that he looked possessed. Jackson returned his eyes to the road and squeezed the steering wheel. Up ahead he saw two, dark, traffic lights hanging over the road like vultures. The road going left looked deserted, so he cranked the steering wheel toward it and sped up through the turn. They had entered a small neighborhood with country-style, brick houses spaced evenly apart separated by manicured lawns. He stopped at a four-way intersection, and when they looked right, they saw one of the undead walking away from them, almost purposefully. Where’s it goin’? “Let’s go straight.”

  They came to a housing community going straight up the side of a mountain with a long road winding its way past the homes. Most of the houses sat on a slope supported by stilts or retaining walls, while others sat perched on top of hills. The side of the mountain sloped down into a gully where a small, but surging, river flowed south beside a row of houses on the east side.

  Michael let out a gurgling cough, followed by a heavy wheeze as he inhaled.

  Jackson quickly zeroed in on one house that sat on the side of the mountain near the top. It had a thick retaining wall holding up the front, and a glassed-in porch hanging over the slope offering good visibility while being inaccessible from the ground. It had multiple levels that climbed up the side of the mountain along the slope until the front door sat at ground level on large concrete slab that included a porch. Stairs leading up to the porch offered the only way in. Just beyond the porch sat a long driveway surrounded by trees that dropped off the other side of the mountain. “Sweet Jesus, I couldn’t have dreamt up a better place myself.”

  “Hurry, I think he just stopped breathing!” Beverly sat on her knees beside her husband with her fingers on his neck feeling around his Adam’s apple with tears welling in her eyes.

  Jackson floored the Jeep and sped toward the house. They finally got around to the driveway which ascended steeply up the mountain and disappeared in a thicket of trees. He punched the gas pedal and hastened to the crest. He slammed on the brakes as it flattened out on top, and helped pick Michael up to carry him to the house. Given more time, he might have found some clever way inside that did not involve brute force. However, with Michael in desperate need of attention, he simply kicked the front door until the frame cracked and finally gave way. He hoped that nobody, or nothing, waited inside as they carried him in and laid him on the couch.

  “Help him, please!” Beverly fell to her knees beside him. Her hands trembled as she tried to give treatment, and she finally looked up shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do!”

  Jackson pushed past her toward his chest. “I know CPR.” He did not know what afflicted Michael, so, thinking fast, he tilted Michael's head back and used his hand as a barrier to blow two rescue breaths threw his fist into his mouth. As he started pumping the chest he turned toward Kathleen. “Get some medicine out of the Jeep. Find antibiotics.” He kept working while she went out.

  Beverly looked on sobbing and winced every time Michael’s chest cracked as Jackson pumped it. She touched Michael’s hand and screamed. “He’s not moving! There’s no life in him!”

  Kathleen came rushing back in with a vial and syringe. “I found something. I think its antiviral. How much do I give?”

  “What is it?”

  “Ahhh…” She scanned the box. “An alpha-interferon, it says.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what it is. It fights viruses.”

  “Okay, try…4 cc's.”

  Kathleen looked down at the syringe and saw the marking. She inserted the needle and drew out the right amount. She had watched enough medical TV dramas to know that she had to push the air out. She prepared it and took Michael’s arm to look for a vein. “His arm’s completely limp. There’s no vein!”

  Jackson sputtered out between labored breaths. “Just do the best you can,” while still trying to keep count of the chest compressions.

  Kathleen approximated as best she could to locate the vein above in the nook of his arm. She inserted the needle and pushed in the drug, then backed up and looked on wide-eyed.

  Still pumping his chest Jackson’s arms bega
n to tremble, open-mouthed, he labored through heavy breaths. Counting to himself, he started leaning in to administer more ventilation when Michael’s body undulated violently. “He’s convulsing! He’s going into shock!”

  “Shock?!” Kathleen yelled as she backed away.

  “Hold him down!” Jackson covered his torso and waved his hand at the two women.

  Kathleen and Beverly held his legs which still twitched under their hands. Michael shook for a few seconds longer and finally stopped, twitched sporadically a few more times, and then stopped, limp again.

  Jackson felt for his pulse and let his head drop after a few seconds. He looked back at Kathleen and slowly tracked his eyes over to Beverly, who stared at him with wide, longing eyes and quivering lips. Jackson’s eyes sank to the floor, and he slowly shook his head then looked away.

  Jackson and Kathleen could only sit quietly and look down as Beverly erupted into tears. After an agonizing period of trying to assuage her through an outpouring of wailing and sobbing, they managed to move her away from the body into one of the bedrooms while they tended to the remains.

  They carried him outside for burial and found a nice, tranquil spot with soft soil without boulders and rocks in the way. With a shovel from a storage shed nearby, Jackson began digging while Kathleen went inside to get a cover for the body. An hour later he had dug a deep hole, and Kathleen had wrapped Michael’s corpse up in a white sheet. She brought Beverly out, and they commenced with a small service.

  Beverly unclasped a locket from around her neck and folded the sheet back, revealing Michael’s face. She knelt next to him and studied his features while squeezing the locket. “He gave me this locket shortly after our first date. We met in college. He was such a character back then.” She let out a small laugh and smiled as she pushed back the tears. “He divided his time between seeing me, getting drunk and rowdy with his friends, and barely showing up for class. He was so sweet though. I could see the man still hiding behind the boy and loved him immediately. We dated, moved in together, and after graduation he asked me for my hand in marriage.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand and wept. She looked down at the locket and kissed it, then leaned over Michael’s body and began fastening it around his neck.

  Jackson and Kathleen looked over at each other, and their hands met while their eyes stayed locked. Then they turned their heads back toward Beverly and bowed them slightly.

  Beverly finished attaching the locket and started sliding her hands back along his neck. Without warning she jerked her hands away and covered her chest. “What the..? He just moved!” Beverly leaned away from the body and stared back at Jackson and Kathleen with her mouth gaping open. “I just felt him move!”

  Kathleen knelt beside her and began rubbing her back. “Beverly, it’s okay…it’s okay.” Kathleen looked back at Jackson with round eyes. “I better take her inside.”

  Beverly moved closer to Michael. “No! I’m serious. He just moved.” She pulled herself away from Kathleen and returned to Michael’s side. She put her hands on his face and shook him. “Michael…Michael! Wake up. It’s me. It’s Beverly.

  Jackson shook his head and looked away. “He hasn’t breathed in over an hour, Beverly. It’s just your imagination. You’ve been through a lot, we all have. Why don’t you go back inside? I’ll finish up here.” Jackson crouched beside her, nodded his head slightly, and gave a smile. “Come on.”

  “You don’t know that he hasn’t breathed. Maybe it’s just shallow.” Beverly looked at him with bulging eyes, and her mouth turned down into a frown.

  Michael’s feet twitched under the sheet, then his eyes shot open, and his mouth clamped down on Beverly’s left hand. She screamed and pulled back as Michael shook his head violently and ripped her skin open. Blood poured down his face and blotted the sheet.

  “Holy Shit!” Jackson fell back on the ground with his arm extended. “Stay away from it!” He stuck his hand out to block Kathleen as she stepped toward Beverly.

  Beverly kept screaming while wrenching her arm back and forth to free her hand as more blood sputtered out. Jackson jumped to his feet and grabbed the shovel and slammed the sharp edge into Michael’s face above Beverly’s hand. Michael’s body kept squirming, and he lifted his leg and crashed the sole of his boot down on the end of the shovel. It dug in and made a wide laceration, almost removing the nose. Jackson raised his leg again and slammed his boot down one more time. The leading edge of the shovel’s spade split the head wide open and silenced the body.

  Beverly managed to wrench herself free of his mouth and fell back holding her hand as blood ran down her arm. “What the hell was that?!” She looked down at the wound, and then clamped her other hand on it. “He turned into one of those things! My husband!” She struggled to her feet and ran into the house dribbling blood the whole way.

  When Kathleen found her, she was in the bathroom holding her hand over the sink. The faucet was turned on, but no water came out. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m not all right! My dead husband just bit me! What the hell is going on?”

  “I wish I knew.” Kathleen eyed the wound and pressed her lips together. “Let me get you a bandage for that.” She walked out and looked at the Jeep which still contained the bandages, but instead walked over to Jackson. She found him covering the body with dirt. “Jackson, we have a problem.”

  “I know. She’s going to turn into one of those monsters. We have to finish her off first.” As he spoke he dumped dirt on the body and rammed the shovel into the pile again and threw the next load of dirt on, harder each time.

  “It must have transmitted when he was bitten, like a disease.”

  “What kind of disease kills somebody and brings them back to life wanting to eat people?” He slung the dirt again.

  “I don’t know, but this one does.”

  He stabbed the shovel into the ground and rested on the handle. “This sucks. It’s not enough to survive. If one of those things bites us, we die and come back as one of them. That’s great.”

  “At least it’s not airborne.”

  “Well maybe it is! We shouldn’t be out here! For all we know it could be airborne, and we just haven’t caught it yet.”

  “That’s crazy. Don’t overreact. I need you to stay calm and help me think. What are we gonna say to Beverly?”

  “Why do we need to say anything? She has to die. You wanna try’n explain it to her first?” He slammed the shovel into the dirt again and threw it on the body.

  Kathleen’s forehead creased when she heard that. “Jackson, how can you say that so coldly, like she’s just vermin?”

  “It’s true isn’t it?”

  “Well…sort of, but…you don’t have to be so insensitive about it.”

  He threw the shovel on the ground and put his hands on his hips. “Kathleen, wake up! This is survival. I depend on it. You depend on it. And, especially, our baby depends on it.” He walked past her and grabbed his AK out of the Jeep, checked the ammo, cocked it, and turned to walk in the house. “I guess I gotta do all the dirty work around here.”

  Kathleen turned with her hand out. “Jackson, wait, I’m sorry. You’re right. It is survival. But let me try somethin’ before you do this.”

  He stopped halfway up the steps. “Try what? There’s nothing to try.”

  “When I injected Michael, he started to convulse. What if that was a reaction to the medicine? If this is some sort of infection, it might help. We injected him just before death. It was too late to stop the spread of the disease. Beverly was bitten not ten minutes ago. We should try and treat her.” She cupped her hands in front of her bosom when Jackson started shaking his head. “Please.”

  He sighed and cast his gaze up in the direction of the house, then back at her.

  “All right, you have twelve hours. If she gets worse in that time, I shoot her. I won’t let her endanger our family.”

  Kathleen nodded with a tiny smile. “Fair enough.”

&n
bsp; Chapter Nineteen

  Ron’s eyes slowly opened and rolled around in their sockets in a gradual arc as he took in his new surroundings. He pressed his fingers to his temples and grimaced, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked to his right and saw a blur of blues, purples, reds, yellows, and whites all swirling together. The image sharpened, and he realized the dull, overcast skies let just enough light through to illuminate a snapshot of the Bible’s story on a stained-glass window.

  He had shunned religions in general since escaping his parents’ yoke, and the Sundays of forced church attendance. From what he could recall, it looked like one of the archangels floating in the air smiting hell spawn during the Apocalypse. He looked left and saw a small alter under a large wooden crucifix, along with a table holding various golden goblets and several books with gilded edges. The spine of one book faced him and read APOCRYPHA in hellish red letters on a black cover.

  “It’s called a Sacristy, the room I mean. We store all of the church valuables in here that we use on special occasions.” A middle-aged short, stocky man with black hair touched by gray sideburns leaned in the doorway, wearing coke bottle glasses, sporting a gray goatee, and a genuine smile revealing a row of small, straight teeth.