The Dead Years Box Set | Books 1-8

by Olah, Jeff

  “I’m gettin’ to it,” Randy continued. “We were all separated and each assigned to their own lab technician. We were asked a ton of questions, of which I still don’t remember any. The entire facility was turned over to a privatized company that was interested in determining what our capabilities and limitations were physically. The four soldiers from the night shift were given weekly injections that were supposed to speed up muscular response and recovery time. The four of us from the day shift were the control group.”

  Looking around the room, Mason could tell from their blank expressions that the others still were in the dark about what was coming. He thought back to the website he came across and now remembered speaking to Randy about this just after being shot. “Randy, was Dr. Lockwood involved with this? He had some very bad things to say.”

  “There was no Dr. Lockwood. I think I know the person who you’re talking about and his name was Dr. Eugene Trite. He created the Lockwood virus they used in testing. He warned that excess dosage or prolonged use would cause severe frontal lobe damage. I learned that this is the part of the brain that is responsible for reasoning, judgment and impulses.”

  “They injected you with a virus?” Karen asked.

  “Not me or my group, and it wasn’t really a virus. We were told it was a natural occurring hormone that enhanced human function. I later found out that the injectable had the possibility of mutating, that’s why we called it a virus. I watched the procedure many times. They injected the subject’s right where the spine meets the skull. It looked like the most painful thing I have ever seen. The whole thing took maybe five minutes.”

  April dug her shoes into the dense carpet on the floor of the RV, still trying to piece this together in her mind. “How did that turn into this?”

  “We continued the combat training and within weeks it was obvious the test subjects were outperforming my group in every situation. They were much faster, could exert themselves longer and went days without sleep. They had created human robots. After six months of this, the company running the experiments green lighted Project Lockwood for use in all areas of the military. That was eight years ago, just before my dismissal from the project and the death of two of the test subjects.”

  “What happened?” William asked.

  “As time went on, the subjects taking the injections became increasingly aggressive. I personally witnessed the deaths and the test subjects acted exactly like the Feeders. The first incident involved one of the night shift soldiers ripping apart one from the day shift and proceeding to try to eat him. The good Dr. wanted to immediately cease all activity on the project until he could rework the injectable. The Project Commander said too much time and money had been spent to start over and thought they no longer needed him. He was forcibly removed from the facility and we moved ahead with the tests. They didn’t believe one had to do with the other and that a slightly lower dosage would fix the problem. The very next week there was a second attack that led to the death of three lab techs and one MP.”

  As the group started to piece together the rest of the story, Adam had another question. “So the virus somehow escaped?”

  “It looks that way. During the second attack, I was bitten by the test subject and within hours became extremely ill. The lab geeks pumped me full of some sort of vaccine before I sank into a coma. That is where I stayed for ten days. When I finally came to in a military hospital, two counties away, I was told the project had been disbanded and was relieved of my service to our country with an honorable discharge. I was actually scared for the first time in my life and didn’t ask any questions. I grabbed my bags and never asked any questions.”

  “I’m sure it didn’t end there…” Mason said.

  “No, I received handwritten letters a couple of times a year from Dr. Trite, addressed out of Colorado. I assumed that’s not actually where he was, although I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him anyway. I wanted to distance myself from the whole thing.”

  Randy began to sweat at the thought of what all this meant. “The Dr. somehow still managed to get updates on what was happening with the project. His letters stated that they moved it to the desert in Nevada and the military brought in an additional five thousand test subjects. In the following years they were used in all areas of the military, government and were deployed in many other countries around the world. Trite said they continued giving the treatment to these subjects and he feared that this would one day mutate. It looks like he was right.”

  “Ok, how do we fight them?” William asked.

  “We don’t. We need to get somewhere safe and find out if the antidote is still around. It has to be, otherwise there is no point in fighting.”

  51

  The city was calm as Mason gazed out through the windshield and down the highway. “We need to get moving. Let’s park this thing somewhere safe and take turns on watch. We can figure out what the hell to do with all this information tomorrow.”

  Randy nodded in agreement and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Sliding his way into position behind the wheel, he put his hands above his head and stretched every muscle in his body. The others continued to fill the rest of the RV with dim whispers and muted conversations. They weren’t any closer to understanding this new world, although they at least now had an idea of what caused this mess.

  Mason slowly eased his way into into the passenger seat and exhaled loudly. “It’s gonna be a long night bud.”

  “I suppose so,” Randy followed.

  The rhythmic sound of the tires against the silence of the night lulled most everyone to sleep within the first half hour of driving along the coast. April and Justin found the warm blankets and soft sheets in the main sleeping area to their liking. Adam and Savannah made due with the twin captain’s chairs as Karen stretched out on the lone fold-out sofa that was oddly as comfortable as anything she had ever slept on, or at least it felt that way. William and Joe sat at opposite ends of the breakfast table discussing the absurdity of the past day’s events. The only light that broke the dark terrain came in the form of the ever so random fires burning in different parts of the city.

  Rolling to a complete stop at the only four way intersection they had come to, Mason smiled as he cocked an eyebrow and said, “Still obeying all the traffic laws are we?”

  “Not really,” Randy said as he slowly shifted the RV into park and then pointed into the distance. “Look at that.”

  Mason sat forward rubbing his bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times trying to focus on what he was seeing. “Where did they come from?” A sea of Feeders, too many to count, were only thirty feet from the RV and closing. With each second that passed they continued to close the gap.

  “Randy, put this thing in reverse and get us out of here.”

  “Not gonna happen. Check the mirrors.”

  Mason looked in the side view mirror to see just as many of them coming from the rear. “Now what?”

  “We need to clear a path; I’d prefer to just run them over, although there’s just too many. We’re gonna have to get out and do this the old fashioned way. Like right now or they’re going to rip this RV and all of us apart.”

  Randy flipped on the interior lights, waking all the sleepers as William stood, cutting short his conversation with his uncle.

  “What’s happening, why did we stop?” William asked.

  Randy unzipped the bag of weapons handing pistols to Adam, William and Mason. “We’ve got large groups of Feeders coming from the front and rear. We need to get through the one in front. Let’s go. Mason, stay at the door and make sure none of them get in.”

  Still half asleep, Justin rushed to slip his shoes back on and hurried out of the rear cabin. “I want to help.”

  “Maybe next time,” Randy said as he and the others hopped out and turned to the horde heading their way.

  Easing his way down to the asphalt, Mason watched as the three men hurried off into the night firing round after round into the crowd. All he c
ould see from his spot leaning against the side of the RV, still dealing with the pain in his shoulder, was the rapid brightness that came with each flash of the muzzle.

  April pulled the curtains back on the rear windows as she monitored the action from inside the RV. She slipped on her shoes and called out to Mason to stay close. The others moved from window to window in nervous anticipation.

  A growing number of Feeders now approached from the left side of the street. There was no time to spare. They were no longer going toward the men doing battle in front of the RV and headed straight for Mason and the open door. “We have to go now!” Mason shouted. The men couldn’t hear him through the sounds of combat. The thick smell of death and burnt gun powder blanketed the area. Incoherent shouting came from inside the RV. The group struggled with the thought of being trapped inside as the Feeders finally overtook them.

  Climbing the steps and shutting the door behind him, Mason called out to Joe. “Can you drive this thing? We need to go.”

  “I’m not leaving my nephew out there,” Joe said.

  “We’re not leaving; we just need to buy some time. We won’t leave without them. We need them.”

  “Alright,” Joe said. “I’ll drive, get in the passenger seat and guide me through.”

  “Let’s go,” Mason said as he set the weapon down on the table and painfully slid back into the seat, grabbing at his shoulder and gritting his teeth.

  “Tell my nephew I love him.”

  “What?” Without looking back, Mason reached over, turned back on the headlights and was in shock at what the three men had done. Within mere minutes, they had all but cleared the area and the remaining Feeders began to head off in another direction.

  Randy slapped Adam on the back and both men helped William limp back to the RV, obviously hurt in the confrontation.

  “Joe, let’s get this thing going my man,” Mason turned and Joe was gone, so was the gun. “Where did he go?” Mason asked no one in particular. The others were all in the back looking out as the horde moved away from the RV. Mason noticed the door was open and moved aside to let Randy and the others back in.

  “Where’s Joe…”

  “OH MY GOD!” Screams came from the back of the RV and the men turned to see Joe, forty feet away, drawing every Feeder in the area to him. He shuffled his tiny little feet as fast as they would go. He realized this world was not the place for him any longer and wanted to save his family, at least for one more day. The longer he stayed the more risk he put them in.

  “JOE!” William cried out as he jumped into the street, immediately falling to the ground on his injured right ankle. He raised the weapon, still in his hand and began to squeeze off round after round doing what little he could to slow the pace at which the crowd fell upon his uncle. “Help him,” he pleaded with the others, already knowing they were too late.

  Randy stepped around William and grabbed his gun. He at least needed to make an effort as Joe buckled under the weight of the two Feeders that pulled him to the ground. Joe managed to get off a couple of shots before his right bicep was bitten in two and his arm pulled off at the shoulder joint.

  Randy moved in behind the crowd without being noticed and began to, one by one, pick off Feeders who had converged on Joe. He continued to fire on the crowd, although there was no point. He caught a glimpse of the elder uncle through the pile of bodies and knew he was gone. Joe passed quickly and quietly as the remaining Feeders converged.

  William no longer felt the pain in his ankle. The constant throbbing was replaced by the steady stream of tears that ran down his face. This man was his hero growing up and the two were never apart more than a few days since he turned twelve years old. William stayed in the town he grew up in for college and lived with his uncle until he made enough money to buy his own home. He insisted Joe live with him, sell his house and retire. His uncle fought this at first, although William wore him down and the two have been inseparable ever since. He had just lost his best friend.

  Hanging his head, Randy turned to walked back, each step more agonizing then the next. He handed the guns to Adam and knelt next to William. “Your uncle is a brave man. He did that to save us.”

  The opportunity for them to leave the area was quickly slipping away and Randy needed to at least get William into the RV so they could leave the area with the rest of the group intact. “We need to go; Joe died for the group. He wanted the rest of us to leave this place alive. Do this for him.” Randy slid his arm under William; the two men stood as one and slowly walked the few feet to the door.

  Now finished with Joe, the Feeders turned their attention back to the RV and began to close in as the others pulled William inside. They laid him on the bench, no one saying a word as he sat hunched over, his head in his hands and continued to cry. Karen moved in next to him running her hands through his hair and kissing his head. She also started to weep, which had the same effect on the others.

  Randy made his way through the main cabin, tore off his shirt, wiped the remnants of their prior battle from his face and slid back into the driver’s seat. He hesitated and then looked over at Mason sitting across from him, half expecting to see the same reaction from him, although Mason was transfixed on something else in the distance.

  “You see that?” Mason said.

  Under his breath Randy said, “What, all the Feeders I killed out there or the two million fires still burning?”

  “No, look at the stadium on the hill. I don’t think the light is coming from a fire.”

  “You’re right, but how would they have power?” Randy asked.

  “I remember hearing they were one of the first stadiums in the country that produced their own power.”

  “So… we need to get there?”

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  . . .

  The stadium lit up the night sky like a Fourth of July celebration, although the long winding road leading there was covered in darkness. Even at night, its beauty could not be denied. It looked more like something you would see in the rose gardens of Oregon and momentarily removed the group from the reality of what the past two days had put them through. The lush green covered sidewalks dressed in pink and red flowers held everyone’s attention as they rolled up to the gates.

  “They’re locked, aren’t they?” Mason said.

  Letting out an extended sigh, Randy murmured, “Yep,” as he put the RV in park. “I’ll get out and see if there’s a way through.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Randy said as he stepped out of the RV and hurried toward the head high gate. Stepping out of the way to let the headlight shine past him; he noticed that it was locked from the inside, so even if they had bolt cutters they would be useless. Looking back at Mason he raised both arms in the air as if to say “Now what?”

  Mason motioned back, waving his arms as well and pointed over Randy’s head into the distance.

  Randy turned and saw two figures heading out of the shadows. They didn’t appear to be Feeders, although at this distance anything was possible. Randy backed toward the RV and stood near the door. “Mason, put all the bags of weapons on the floor near you and be ready.”

  Coming out of the night, the two men now stood at the gate. “How ya’ll doin?” The larger of the two men said.

  Randy stepped back to the gate and greeted both men with a handshake over the top. “We are good. Just trying to find somewhere safe to ride the night out.”

  “I think we can help, as long as no one in your group is bitten. We have a strict policy of shooting anyone that is bitten and worrying about the guilt later.” Both men smiled and laughed.

  “No, we have all managed to avoid those things for the last two days, although I don’t mind tellin ya, we have had some close calls.”

  They unlocked the gate and pointed to where Randy needed park the RV. The smaller man, who bared an uncanny resemblance to his uncle, told him they would meet in the parking area and walk them into the stadium.

  “Thanks guys, we are
extremely grateful,” Randy said as he turned and headed back.

  Driving through the lot and rolling to a stop in the designated area, Randy jumped out of the driver’s seat into the main cabin with the others and told them to stay alert. “I’m not too sure about these guys.”

  One by one they stepped out of the RV and introduced themselves to the two men and exchanged greetings. As Mason slowly stepped out, the larger man asked, “Where’s the driver?” A moment later Randy popped his head out of the main door and stepped out onto the pavement below. “Sorry guys, had to take a leak, we’ve been on the road for quite a while.”

  The larger man didn’t look amused. He looked tired and pissed off as he addressed the group. “You all need to realize you are guests here. You don’t do what you’re asked and you’re all back on the highway.”

  “Yes sir!” Adam said with a smirk.

  Neither man laughed or even cracked the slightest smile. They meant business and everyone could tell. The smaller of the two exhaled into the night air. “We’re gonna need your guns.”

  Randy stepped toward the men. “And… what happens if we don’t hand them over?”

  Raising his shotgun to Randy’s bare chest he said, “Let’s just say, it won’t end well for you, ANY of you.”

  The small man smiled. “One last time, hand over the weapons.”

  52

  If a maximum security prison had a good-looking, less threatening cousin, this would be it… at least it felt that way. The four freshly painted concrete block walls and drab metal door accented with stainless steel hinges began to close in on them. The contrast between the month-old building they now called home and the hell that lies beyond the stadium gates would be laughable if only it weren’t so true. The paint fumes faded with each passing day, as did their hope for a friendly alliance with the two men just feet away. It had been days since they saw sunlight and a few were beginning to wonder if they ever would.