A Whisper in the Flame (The Ragers Series Book 1)

by Rebekah Nicole

  The gun slides out of my hand as I hold my breath. My brain is frozen in shock as we twirl 360 degrees. Mom tries to guide the car, but the wheel has locked.

  We collide, hood first, into the barrier at the foot of the bridge. My body arches forward, and my neck snaps back as we slam to a stop into the concrete wall. A loud hissing noise erupts from the sputtering engine.

  Airbags deploy, sending a chalky powder into the air. The bag punches into my chest, blocking my eyes, and sending my back hard into the seat.

  My ears are ringing, and my eyes are struggling to open.

  Blink. I can see white powder everywhere. It chokes me and sends me into a coughing frenzy. Blood comes out with my coughs, in little spats—the coppery taste of blood pools on my tongue. I only see red, pink, and white.

  Blink. I raise one hand to my neck, a headache instantly coming on. My neck is rigid, and my eyes are burning while trying to make sense of what is happening.

  Blink. I can see smoke rising from the front of the car.

  Blink. Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand. I turn to look at her, but she releases me and starts pushing on her airbag in fast, rapid succession, trying to deflate it faster.

  I start pushing down my own airbag. When it is low enough, I reach down for the knife in my socks and puncture holes in all of them, reaching over Mom to do the same for hers. I put the knife back and pick up the gun off the floor, securing it in my jeans.

  My passenger side door is crunched tightly together from the crash. The smell of fire drifts into my nostrils, and adrenaline picks up my pace. Coursing through my body, it tells me to ram myself into the door while pulling the handle. The door creaks loudly, and I half crawling out onto the road.

  "Ouch." Mom screams, falling out of the car. I jump up, the adrenaline pushing away any pain, and run around the backside of the car to her.

  "Mom, are you okay?"

  "Damn it!" she seethes, grabbing at her leg. "It's my ankle."

  Mom lifts her head to look at me, and I recoil slightly seeing her face. While her eyes are bloodshot, the rest of her skin is ghost white, like all the blood has drained from it. It has morphed into a delicate papery texture to the point of being see-through.

  "That's not the only problem... you're starting to change."

  "What? No." She whispers. She stays crouched on the ground feeling her face, searching for a change she cannot see.

  The car crackles behind us, a fiery orange flame rising from the hood.

  “Come on, we have to move,” I say.

  The wind blows as the storm continues to brew overhead, bringing in a sweet smell with it. When it dies down, I can hear the lifeless creatures coming.

  “Mom?” I start pacing back and forth, biting my nails. Then I see them again; their yellow, disfigured bodies are making their way towards us. Even through their slow, languished movements, they gain on us at a speed that makes my insides feel like they are melting.

  The noise, the fire, all of it brings them towards our direction. Mom rises from the ground, climbing on to the tip of her good foot to see them coming towards us.

  "It's time, Emma. You have to go."

  "No, I'm not ready to leave you yet. Please, let's go!" I yell as I grab her hand. We link our arms over each other's shoulders and run as quickly as possible down the back alley.

  "Quick," Mom says, pointing to the dumpster in front of the fence a few blocks away, "You can use that to help you climb over the fence."

  The sun is setting, and the clouds are continually contributing to the darkening sky. I can hear Mom seething. Struggling to keep up and to keep her temper.

  "Help me close the lid, and then we can push it closer to the fence," she spits out when we reach the container.

  I flip the lid shut with a clatter as she hobbles around to the other side.

  "One, two, three!" It feels like we are pushing a stone wall. My legs slide out from underneath me, and I slip to my knees from the effort of trying to shove.

  "Ugh!" Mom screams with frustration. Infected are entering the backside of the buildings. "Come on, let's try to push one side into the fence," she commands.

  She hobbles back on her right foot and counts to three again. With more force than I could ever imagine, she throws herself into the container as I push. The corner glides into the chain-link fence with a clink.

  "Okay, now up," she says. Her body is shaking, but she is standing straight up like her ankle isn't bothering her anymore.

  "I... I don't think I can do this," I cry, grabbing my Mother's shoulder. The Infected are only a few blocks down from us, but I can't loosen my grip.

  "Emma, stop!" she screams at me in anger, and she shakes my hand off of her. She didn't mean it, I know she didn’t, but the shock still pulses through me as I pull away from her. Mom gapes at me, her mouth slack in surprise by her own actions as tears bubble to the surface of my eyes.

  Mom's expression softens, and she pulls my face into her hands. I can see the blue around the irises of her eyes. A glassy look takes over them now.

  "I love you. You can do this; you are so much stronger than you think. Now go, find your dad, find Lauren, and put a stop to this." Her voice is a quiet mixture of anger, sadness, and hope.

  "Mom..."

  "GO, NOW!" she bellows at me at last. She shoves me backward as hard as she can. I land on my back, watching in horror as she staggers headfirst towards the crowd of Infected.

  They become more excited, seeing her coming towards them. They run at her, pushing over and past the others in their way. She whips her head around to give me one last look. This time there is no sadness or pleading written anywhere on her face. She replaced it with a hard, blazing look as she mouths "Go" to me.

  With tears streaming down my face, I give heed to her final request. It hurts; everything hurts as I rise up from the ground. Do it, Emma, go. I grab hold of the trash container, doing my best to ignore the stench as I use the container’s shape to climb on top of it. With a short running jump, I launch myself up on to the fence. My face slams into the metal as my fingers clasp around the links.

  Up! Up, Emma. Go, go.

  As I climb over the top, the river below bellows and churns, proving itself much more daunting than it did five minutes ago. I cling to the fence, staring into the water splashing wildly beneath. It is black and ominous, reflecting the storm overhead.

  I’m scared. I want to hold on to my old life with all I have left. This is it. The last of life. On this side of the fence. Across the river, on to the other side. I don’t have a clue what is waiting for me there. I have no idea what to expect or what to do next. My heart and my brain fight with each other making every second stretch into millions of little eternities.

  But my ears ring with the sick, disturbing noise in the distance. I sway in place as I listen to them, tearing into her. I can hear her screams seeping into my brain, infringing upon what little conviction I have left.

  Stop it, stop! I don't want to hear any of this. With my heart pounding loudly, there is only one thing left to do.

  So, I jump.

  Chapter 9

  Everything disappears for the briefest of moments as my body is submerged by water. My eyes cannot see, my ears cannot hear, my body is shocked by the river's cold, harsh pull. The cold frees my body. Enticing me to stay beneath its rapturing currents.

  Instead, I shove myself forward under the water, holding my breath for as long as possible and pushing myself through the rough tug of currents. The water beats against me, trying to shove me back.

  I come up for air, but the fast undercurrents instantly dunk me back under. It is wild and unbreakable, pushing me further and further underwater with strength like hurricane winds blowing everything in its path. My shoulders ache as the water rushes between my backpack and yanks me ruggedly this way and that.

  I start to panic, disoriented from being thrown about. I can't see. I don't know which way is up or down as I get hurled again and again. All I wan
t to do is get some air, but I can't bring myself up above the current. The weight of the water is overpowering.

  My ears are ringing again, the pressure pushing them inward. My throat is aching, lungs screaming for fresh air. I can feel the pounding of the blood in my veins reaching my head, sending popping sensations through my brain, and clouding my eyesight.

  I thought someone might feel cold when they drowned in an icy river. Instead, I feel warm, hot almost. The heat burns brighter with every second. I want to give up.

  It feels like I've been underwater for an eternity, and I'll be here for an eternity more. I'm going to die. I know it.

  I'll never see my father again. His face comes floating to me through the dark black fog, smiling and happy, his bright eyes full of laughter. I’ll never see Lauren; she comes to me next, her long brown hair swirling in the water. I'll never see anything ever again.

  As my mind recedes, Mom's face floats to me, then Will's and Mrs. Wells’. They’re all waiting for me.

  Wait. No, this isn’t right. Mom isn’t waiting for me to join her. My mind is lying to me. I can't stay with them. If I do, Mom died for nothing. Her death, her sacrifice, would have been a waste.

  It can't have been for nothing. All of this is not for nothing.

  Lifting my head, I can barely make out the light coming through the surface.

  Go, I think to myself, Go!

  Kicking, striking, punching upwards, I fight ferociously. I fight against the dragging water, against my tired brain, against my dying body.

  Until finally, I thrust my head above the water.

  Chapter 10

  Cool air slaps my face as I rise above the surface. My chest gives in gigantic heaves, desperately sucking in the moist air.

  I'm across.

  I'm already on the other side of the river. The current pulled me feet from the riverbed. I stretch out my arm and reach for the grass, digging my nails into the damp earth. Pulling myself the rest of the way, I climb out of the river before collapsing. A hollow scream of relief falls out of my mouth as I breathe in deeply, letting the grass tickle my nose.

  I roll over and stretch out, gliding my arms and legs across the grass as if I am trying to make a snowman. I am shaking, wet, and cold, but I'm alive.

  The clouds are becoming thicker and the wind more forceful. I need to find a hiding place or a car—something, some way of escaping further from town. The sooner I find shelter, the better.

  The fence looms overhead a few yards in front of me. With my clothes clinging to my body, I start climbing the chained wall. My shoes squeak and slip here as I ease up the side. My fingers tingle, feeling like an electrical current is running through them, thawing out from the effort of climbing up and over the top.

  My knees buckle as I hit the brick gravel bottom. The fence echoes with the sound of me letting go, clinking back and forth against its metal poles.

  Thanks a lot, muscles. I squeeze my forehead between my fingers, attempting to crush the headache I feel rising in my skull.

  The fog clouding my vision slowly dissipates, allowing my blurred surroundings to extract themselves from the haze and crystalize in front of me. The sun sets behind the tall ashen brick buildings casting a tall shadow that reaches the fence.

  The long row of shops stand almost identical to the back alleyway I just escaped. The noticeable exception is newness and cleanliness. Not a single piece of rubbish is on the ground surrounding the dumpsters behind each shop. No splatters of spilled liquid show the trail from the trash can to the shop's back exit doors.

  I don’t know what I really expected to see here. People bustling about; chaos, maybe? The news said an outbreak occurred here yesterday. To me, the only off thing about what I’m seeing is the lack of people.

  Or so I thought. Cue the infected person coming around the bin with a substantial brittle bubble projection sticking from her neck.

  Time to move.

  I hustle to my feet, limping a bit in my steps and hugging the brick wall for support. I pass metal door after metal door, inching towards the next alley opening and scanning for any place to hide. The woman seethes behind me, angry that I’m out of arm’s reach. She screams curse words into the air while more of her creepy friends heed her call.

  Wait, was that a light? I see it again, across the window of a shop door a few feet up. The light goes out, but I’m on to them.

  Desperate to get in, desperate to escape these half-human bags of bones behind me. I reach the door and slam my fist into it. Back and forth, I pound, my hand going numb to the beating it is taking.

  “Hey!” I scream. “Hey, let me in!”

  Nobody comes, nobody but the Infected. I’m screwed.

  “Please! Help, let me in!”

  My body aches and caves, breaking from the weight of cold and pain. I can’t hold myself up anymore. I sink down, ready for them to take me away. One final thump, I heave backward into the door, the thud reverberating all around.

  The door behind me moves. It slams into my back, pushing me forward on the ground.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Trying not to die, of course.

  I crawl up off my stomach, turning to face the harsh voice, but when I turn myself around to see who opened the door, I stop myself. My eye is inches from a knife blade. I can feel the wisps of wind slicing past its silver tip into my eye and wonder what it would have felt like for the metal body to have cut through my eye socket as easily as the wind does.

  My gaze forces its way up the knife, seeing it attached to a long walking cane, held in place with wads of silver duct tape. The rod is contained in her fists so tight that pops of white can be seen in the knuckles of the dark russet skin.

  “Shae. You’re alive?” I ask, seeking her honey nut eyes. Her black hair is in micro curls, some on her shoulders, some swept back in a knot. She shakes her head, a flicker of annoyance prowling her eyes.

  “What did you think you were the only one smart enough to make it out of there? Typical, pompous, Emma.”

  “No, I just…”

  “You must have forgotten that we’re on the same academic level. The only reason you were slightly ahead of me in class is that your parents got you in at the lab.”

  “I-“

  “How’s that for privilege.”

  “We don’t have time for this! Please, just let me in.” I shake my head, wanting to fight against her declaration. My ego cracks under pressure, twisting in disillusion.

  “What? Scared of one?” She asks darkly as she misinterprets my quiver. She casts her eyes past me at the woman stumbling her way around the trash bin.

  The shadows dance behind Shae in the dark building. My body stiffens, a cold sweat sweeping across my face. A small mass shifts forward, disappearing into the black nothingness. It inches closer to Shae, but I can’t get myself to say something, to warn her.

  “Shae!” I croak, lifting my finger to point and lunging forward as if my brain finally started to react.

  “Don’t you dare take another step in here.” Her voice is as cold as ice. She shoves her knife back under my throat, and I can feel the sharp prickle of the blade to my skin.

  Before I can utter another word, the creature from the dark’s arm slithers around Shae’s stomach. She peeks out beside her, illuminating her beautiful honey brown skin in the light.

  It’s not a monster, after all.

  “Camryn.”

  “Emma!” Her amber eyes search my face, sweet and innocent. Her shy smile instantly turns to a look of complete annoyance when she catches a glance at the knife in my neck.

  A yell from the rotting woman yanks my attention away, the knife pushing through a small bit of skin when I turn my neck. The woman is kicking at the man behind her.

  His crooked fingers are cinched around the woman’s pants. With each step she attempts to take forward, the man is yanked and dragged behind her.

  They both sniff the air, almost in unison, smelling t
he blood. She thrashes against him, pushing and screaming, reaching with one arm towards me.

  “Stop being mean!” Camryn cries to her sister, swiping the stick away from my neck and towards the ground. “Or I’m going to tell—” but she stops mid-sentence, her little shoulders slumping forward.

  “Who, Cam? Who are you going to tell? Mom? Dad? They’re both dead. It's just you and me now. Get used to it.”

  My heart shatters for little Camryn, her kind eyes filling with hurt and bubbling over with tears. Shae’s head tips up slightly, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip. “Fine, just get in here.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, sliding past Shae’s arm as she slams the door closed. The woman on the other sides hollers in an irritated throat cackle.

  “Come on, let’s move away from the back door.” Shae grabs Camryn’s arm and leads us into a dark room. She closes the door, turning on the light switch, illuminating that room to show what was, at one time, an employee break room.

  The windowless white room is bleak and dull, with no real decorations outside of the few OSHA working posters. There is one large round table in the room with five blue plastic chairs seated around it and two more chairs pushed against the wall.

  “Nice to see the electricity is still on,” I mumble, gliding my hand across the bare countertop of the little kitchen. There is a small microwave and an empty black coffee maker on the otherwise naked counter with cabinets above the lower ones. A small black refrigerator runs in the corner, churning in an effort to keep cool.

  “For now, at least.”

  I can feel Shae’s eyes on the back of my head as my hand lingers momentarily on the fridge. I pull it away, folding my arms across my chest as I return her gaze.

  “So… what now?”

  “What now? Listen, I was nice enough to let you in, but you ain’t staying.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, she is. You can’t kick her out right now,” Camryn pipes up indifferently.

  “Um, yes. I can. Besides, I’m not kicking her out yet. You can stay for an hour. Give them some time to back off.”