Forgotten Origins Trilogy - Box Set: Infected, Heritage, Descent

by Tara Ellis

  Nate slowly comes to stand with us, holding a hand to a nasty looking bump on his forehead. “I totally had your back man,” he says weakly to Chris. Clasping his shoulder, Chris smiles at his friend before helping me walk to the back of the truck.

  “Alex!” Mom calls quietly to me as we approach. “What are you doing here? Oh-you’re hurt!”

  “I’m all right, Mom, but we need to go. Are you all okay?” Looking inside, I see that the four of them have their hands bound behind their backs, and are also tethered to a bench. No wonder they didn’t come out when they heard us. Natalie’s eyes are swollen from crying and Cindy is staring at me numbly.

  “Yes we’re fine, but they took Ken.” Mom answers. It’s obvious that they are all in shock, the realization that they might be saved just starting to sink in. “Where’s Jake?” she asks, looking behind me.

  “Don’t worry, Jake and Missy are waiting someplace else for us. I need you all to stay back here for just a little longer. We’re going to try and drive out through the front gate.”

  “What about Ken?” Cindy cries, doing her best to scoot towards the opening, pulling at the end of the short of length of rope looped through her shackles.

  I glance back and forth briefly between Mom, Lisa and Cindy. There’s no easy way out of this. “You heard those guys, Cindy. They’ve taken him down inside the lab and Natalie is going to be next. We have maybe twenty minutes before they come back, if we’re lucky. We don’t have a choice.”

  Hanging her head, Cindy knows that I’m right. My heart aches for her, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. “I’ll be right back,” I say, before turning away.

  Chris has removed the shirt from the still unconscious Mudameere near the loading dock. Quickly putting the long-sleeved black sweater on over his t-shirt, he also dons the utility belt and then pulls some zip ties from it. We secure the man’s hands and then drag him over to join Seth.

  I pause to pick up both the bloodied knife and the automatic rifle I dropped. No reason to leave anything useful behind. Chris doesn’t comment as I hastily wipe the knife off on the pants of the guard before putting it in my pocket. “My blood could be contagious,” I explain to him. “You all need to be careful not to come into contact with it.” He nods silently, but I can tell by his troubled expression that it was something he hadn’t considered.

  Lifting him with some effort because of my injury, we manage to get the guy into the back next to Seth. Chris then runs to help Kyle and Nate, who are struggling to move the other larger man. Left alone, I can’t help but study Seth, who is silently watching me. I almost feel sorry for the humiliation he will suffer for being hogtied twice in as many days. Almost.

  His gaze drops to the blood oozing between the fingers of my right hand, which I have pressed over the cut. There’s that look of regret again. Puzzled, I turn away and help the guys load the last guard before closing the tailgate. His head proved to be harder than most, and he’s already coming around, groaning.

  As we walk away, I hear Seth try to call my name, muffled around the belt pulled over his mouth. Turning back, I look at him, irritated. My nerves are shot and we are way too exposed out here. He’s managed to prop himself up against the side of the wheel well, his blonde hair sticking out on one side, blood matted into it. His left eye is nearly swollen shut, but he is still somehow strikingly handsome. This observation bothers me and increases my anxiety. “What?” I demand.

  “It won’t matter what you do. The end has already begun. They’ll be here soon.” He has to say it around the belt crammed in his mouth, but I can understand him. I hesitate, thrown off a bit by what seems like a warning, rather than a threat.

  “Come on, Alex!” Chris calls. This breaks through to me, and I briefly make eye contact with Seth to acknowledge that I heard him, before sprinting back to my friends.

  Kyle and Chris are up front, both wearing the black Mudameere sweaters. Nate and I climb into the back and release the straps holding the tarp up, effectively hiding us. As we start to move forward, I work my way around, cutting through the zip ties and ropes with Seth’s knife.

  I can tell we’ve reached the entrance when the truck slows down to almost a stop. We all hold our breath, and I steady myself in the center, a rifle trained on the covered opening in case it’s pulled aside. After what sounds like a brief exchange the truck picks up speed, so I assume the gate’s been opened for us to pass through. Did we really just pull this off?

  After a few more minutes we turn left at what has to be the intersection, and then to the right before slowing to a stop. The engine is killed and I cautiously peek out the back to make sure it’s safe. We’re behind the gas station, parked next to the Tahoe and I don’t see any sign of a chase.

  “We did it!” I exclaim to the group huddled behind me. “Come on, let’s go!”

  As we all file out, Chris and Kyle rush over to the Tahoe and get two gas cans and a hose out of the back. Missy and Jake, assured that it’s just us and not the Mudameere, run from the vehicle towards us.

  As Jake reaches out for me, I step back. “No, Jake,” I say gently, putting up a hand to stop him. “I’ve got blood on me, bud. I don’t want it to get on you. I’m okay though,” I add hastily. He hesitates, trying to see my injury in the murky light of the lowering moon.

  He turns to hug Mom as she comes to stand next to us. “We’re okay, Jake,” she reassures him. He’s sobbing with relief now, not quite believing that we made it back. “Shh, come on, let’s get back inside. We’ll need to leave as soon as they get the gas,” she explains, guiding him back to the Tahoe.

  Baxter licks at my left hand, and I yank it away. He tilts his head, regarding me with curiosity. I kneel down in front of him, and do my best to explain. “I want you to be careful not to lick any of my blood, Baxter.” He whimpers a little, nudging my hurt shoulder with his nose. “It’s not that bad, but we don’t know for sure that this virus won’t infect you.” Chuffing at me, he makes it clear he doesn’t think so. “Well, better safe than sorry. Just think about it, okay?” Wagging his tail, he runs to join Jacob.

  Lisa, Chris, and Nate are working on siphoning the gas. Thank God the transport rig runs on regular gasoline and not diesel. Hopefully there’s at least a few gallons left in it, because we’re almost on empty.

  “Where’s Dad?” I turn towards Missy’s voice, and see that Cindy and Natalie are huddled around her. She’s realized that her dad isn’t here. “Where is he?” she almost yells. “How could you have left him behind? Go back and get him!”

  Kyle is doing his best to console her, but she wants nothing to do with him at the moment. Pushing him away she turns on me. “Why did you leave him there?” she demands, crying now. “They’re going to turn him into a Shiner!”

  “We didn’t have a choice, Miss,” I say, afraid that we’re being way too loud. Stepping closer, I lower my voice and put a hand on Natalie’s small shoulder. “There were armed guards with him. They were going to take your sister down into the labs next, Missy. Remember how sick she got last time? She almost died, but your dad was okay. He’ll survive this time too, and we’ll find him eventually. I promise. But we couldn’t save him, Missy. We just couldn’t. Not without risking everyone else. You know your dad would have wanted us to get your Mom and Natalie out if we could. I swear to you, there just wasn’t any other way.”

  Natalie leaps into Missy’s arms, crying so hard that she can barely talk. “I’m … sorry, Missy. It’s my fault. We can go … back if you want. I’m not … scared of them!”

  I feel incredibly guilty for saying what I did in front of Natalie, but there just isn’t time for being considerate of everyone’s feelings. We’ve all got to get into survival mode. There’s a long ways to go before we’re safe.

  “They’re going to be coming after us any minute now,” I say urgently. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes left at the most before they said they’d be back for Natalie. It’s possible that someone may have already found the guard
s we left tied up. They could already be on their way.”

  Everyone turns to look back towards the lab, sure to see headlights rushing down the road towards us. Thankfully, everything is still dark, but I think I made my point.

  “We got maybe six gallons,” Chris announces as he and Nate carry the gas cans back to the SUV. We all load up as they pour the gas in, Missy and Natalie holding on tightly to each other. Cindy directs them to the back seat where they all sit together, Jake and Baxter squeezing onto the floor at their feet. Lisa and Mom take the split chairs in the middle, while Kyle sits on the floor between them. I get behind the wheel, and realize what a cramped ride the next few hours are going to be.

  As Chris slides in across the front seat, Nate gets in next to him, barely allowing enough elbow room for me to drive. They both smell of gas, so I roll down my window before pulling out onto the road.

  I almost expect to see a convoy of Mudameere pursuing us, so I’m relieved when we’re the only visible traffic on the road. I estimate that what I told Missy wasn’t an exaggeration. We’ll be fortunate if they aren’t after us in five to ten minutes. That isn’t much of a head start.

  The forty-some miles of open highway ahead of us only leads to Missoula, with a couple of tiny towns along the way. They’ll know where we’re headed, so if we don’t make it there before they catch up, we’re done. A horrible thought occurs to me, causing my stomach to turn cold.

  “What if they have a helicopter here?” I say out loud. “They’ll find us in minutes. Even without the lights on, I think they’ll see us.”

  “No. They don’t have it,” Lisa states. She sounds confident about it.

  “How do you know that?” I ask her.

  “Because the guards were complaining about it right before you got us. I guess it was their ride out of here, but that older guy - I think his name was Nossor - took it as soon as we got there. Before he left, he said that he’d send it back for them after he was dropped off at Command.”

  “How long ago do you think that was?” Chris asks his mom, and I see where he’s going with it.

  “Well, we were there maybe half an hour before you came and it’s been about another fifteen or twenty minutes since then.”

  “If I go 80-90, it should only take half an hour to reach Missoula,” I say, thinking out loud. “Even if they turn the helicopter around right away, they wouldn’t get back here in time.”

  I don’t wait for anyone to agree with me before stepping down on the gas. As we fly forward into the night, I reflect on our loved ones who are back with us, and the father we left behind.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  It was close to two thirty in the morning by the time we drove back through Missoula. Nate poured over the map, trying to find an alternate route that didn’t take us into the center of town. At this time of night, we’d likely be the only one on the road. There was simply no other way though, so we were forced to turn the lights on, slow down and just plow ahead. Fortunately, we didn’t encounter any police or army personnel.

  Chris’s growing suspicion that the Mudameere aren’t as powerful is thankfully proven again. At the government level, their reach must only go so far. There’s a big difference between influencing the soldiers watching a town with a population of 5,000 versus one of 70,000. We think the Mudameere were planning for the possible quarantine and take-over of Omak for some time. They probably carefully maneuvered their own men into position long before the Holocene shower, in case things didn’t go as planned. The chaos after the outbreak would have made it easier for them to manipulate everyone.

  How they managed to take over a CDC lab, we’ll probably never know. Likely, the Director or someone high up is also part of the organization and he orchestrated this. That might even be where they developed the Nephi2 virus.

  Once we’re past Missoula, and back on I90 West, we all relax a bit. A few miles later, we turn north again and are within a couple of hours of our final destination. I take the opportunity to tell Mom and Lisa about the dream I had the day before. I’m not sure if Cindy is listening from the back or not. She and Missy haven’t said much since we left.

  Mom has the same opinion as Missy. She thinks that there must be a reason for my dreams and it’ll become clear at some point. I hope that they’re right, because I’m starting to get scared about going to sleep, which really sucks since right now I’m exhausted.

  It’s close to three a.m. and we’re surrounded by steep, dark mountains. I haven’t seen another car or even any lights for over an hour. The freeway follows a canyon, winding north up towards Flathead Lake. Dad took us all camping there a few summers ago, and I have very fond memories of it. It’s a huge lake, some thirty miles long and we’ll have to drive over half its length before reaching Bigfork. We’ve got to be getting close, but in this dark terrain, I’ve lost my sense of where we are.

  “You should let me drive,” Chris says quietly from beside me. Nate is snoring on the other side of him, his head leaning up against Chris’s shoulder. I almost laugh at the pleading in Chris’s voice. I’m tempted though. It’d probably be fine to turn the headlights on now.

  “You really need to take care of that cut,” he continues, pointing at my chest. “The last thing you need is an infection. Has it stopped bleeding?”

  Mom found a first-aid kit earlier. There were a couple of instant ice packs that Chris and Nate used on their wounds and I stuffed some gauze under my shirt. I didn’t spend much time looking at it, but I think that with a few butterfly Band-Aids it’ll close up all right.

  I pull the padding away to inspect it. It’s almost soaked through with blood, but that’s pretty much dry and there isn’t any fresh bleeding. It begins to ooze a little bit since I lifted the fresh scab off with the gauze, but it’s not bad.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say to Chris. “I should wash it off and put some antibiotic ointment on it.” Studying his bruised face, I wince a little. “You should put some on those cuts.”

  “Nah,” he scoffs. “It makes me look tougher.” I can’t help but smile back at him before slowing down to find a safe place to pull over.

  An hour later, I’m freshly bandaged and in a clean shirt. I can’t sleep, but just being able to take a break from the stress of driving is rejuvenating. Cindy, Missy, and Natalie have all been asleep, emotionally as well as physically drained. I know from experience that sometimes sleep is the best escape and what your body really needs.

  I’ve gone back to studying the map, trying to figure out where we are exactly. We made one more turn to the right a bit back, onto the final road that will take us to the lake. The landscape opened up and flattened out, the mountains retreating to shadows further in the distance to either side of us. We’ve started passing through little groupings of buildings that used to serve as stores and gas stations, but now sit vacant and dark. I recognize this though and I know we’re getting close.

  It’s critical to figure out the mileage, because we are dangerously close to empty. It’s obvious that none of the gas stations will be working, but we decided to look for vehicles, debating on whether we should chance stopping and checking them.

  I seem unable to decipher the kilometer key in the corner of the map in relation to the roads. Apparently my math-oriented genius only relates to real life scenarios. When I try and apply it to the picture in front of me, I get a jumble of angles and diagrams that in no way corresponds to distance. It’s really beginning to frustrate me. Nudging Nate, who is now drooling on my arm, I shove the atlas into his lap.

  He looks at me sleepily, wiping at the corner of his mouth. “I need your help with this,” I explain. “We’re almost at the lake, but I can’t determine how many more miles it is. We’re getting low on gas.”

  “How low?” Kyle asks. He’s been sleeping on the floor, using Baxter as a pillow.

  “Very,” Chris replies. “The gas light has been on for about ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “Well, I know from experience that we have
about 50 or 60 miles before running out, after it comes on,” Nate tells us.

  Holding a flashlight over the map for Nate, I close my eyes in resignation. We aren’t going to make it. We haven’t even gotten to Polson yet, and that’s at the very south end of the lake.

  “Here’s a sign that says ‘Pablo City Hall next right’,” Chris announces. I glance up to see that we’re going through another cluster of civilization, but without any sign of life. These little spots of services were meant for the traffic traveling along this highway, the lone route to get through the center of the State. I would imagine that once the supply of gas and food disappeared, so did the people.

  There are a couple of abandoned vehicles in the intersections, but these are likely there because they simply couldn’t go any further. Wasting gas to check cars that are obviously already empty would be stupid, so we keep going.

  “We’ll probably hit a residential area if we turn down one of these roads here,” Nate explains. “Maybe we can find a car parked in a driveway. There’s a better chance that it might have some gas in it.”

  “We will not resort to stealing,” Mom says firmly from the seat behind us.

  A bit surprised, I turn to look at her. “Mom, I can see your point here, but don’t you think saving the world from this virus is more important?”

  “The only thing separating us from them is our ability to discern why it would be wrong, Alex. We can’t forfeit that. If you want to go knock on their door and ask, then I am all for it.”

  I take a deep breath and turn back around. I have to remember that she’s still struggling with recovering from her own ordeal of being a Shiner. Keeping a clear definition of her human traits is critical for her. I’m considering how to further the argument when Chris makes it unnecessary.

  “I don’t think we should risk wasting what gas we have left,” he says, and I see that we’re already driving out the other side of Pablo, leaving the opportunity behind. “The odds that there might be a car left somewhere out there, conveniently parked in a driveway for us with gas in it, is nearly impossible. We saw what it’s like in other places. We’d be more liable to run out of gas driving around searching for it.”