Spore Series (Book 1): Spore

by Soward, Kenny

  Not only had they improved on their respiratory protection, but they’d fashioned protective suits out of plastic garbage bags, plastic tarps, rubber kitchen gloves, and duct tape. It wasn’t the greatest protection in the world, but it was the best they could do given their circumstances. The plastic tarps had come from the basement where they’d stored them with their camping gear, and they made the perfect outer layer, resistant to ripping and stretching so the siblings could move around with more confidence.

  “Want to check on Dad, then?”

  Randy swallowed back tears. “I do, but I don’t.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jenny agreed, and she nodded her plastic-covered head. “But I think we should, just to make sure. To have some closure, you know?”

  “Okay, let’s go,” Randy said, and he moved around his mother’s corpse to walk down the fungus-covered service road. After a moment, Jenny followed, her footsteps hurried until she came even with him.

  It had been over twenty-four hours since the outbreak, and BD was everywhere. The fungus covered the service road, the house, the truck, and the crops like a plague. It was still scary looking where it grew in thick patches, though the bright red color had faded to an angry crimson.

  “I doubt anything will grow in the field ever again,” Randy said, glancing around at their ruined crops. “But maybe the scientists are working on something.”

  Jenny scoffed. “What scientists? You saw the news this morning. There might not be any scientists left. We might be on our own.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Randy said, not appreciating his sister’s grim pessimism but not wanting to argue. “Hey, here’s the truck.”

  They had reached the end of the field where the Durant-Monroe Chemical truck was parked. Big strips of fuzzy, crimson fungus covered the vehicle. The name on the side of the big tank was unreadable. Where the hoses connected, water continued to drip, so Randy walked over to the main shutoff valve—one of the few things not covered in BD—and turned it off. Then he walked around the truck with Jenny moving in the opposite direction.

  The driver lay slumped over the wheel, and Randy didn’t have to see the man’s face to know what had happened. The passenger side door hung open, and his father’s corpse lay half in and half out of the vehicle, face planted into the ground, boots up. BD lay in a thick patch around the base of his twisted neck and had spread up the back of his overalls.

  A series of images struck Randy. His father, Cordy Tucker, had been tall and thin, but the man could chop a cord of wood in record time. He never shied away from a problem or put off until tomorrow what he could do that day.

  To Randy, his father had been fearless. And to see him lying in such a disgraceful position made Randy turn his head away in anger. A hand slipped inside his, and he turned to face Jenny. Her dark brown eyes cried behind the plastic visor.

  “You know, maybe you’re right. We should bury them.” Randy wished he could wipe away his tears inside the mask. “Or at least put them side-by-side. They’d want to be together.”

  “Yeah, they would,” Jenny agreed.

  Together they took their father from the passenger side, careful not to pierce their protective suits. Tendrils of BD drifted up wherever they disturbed it, and Randy waved it away out of habit whenever he had a free hand.

  It was tough going. Their father’s corpse was stiffening up, and heavy, too. It took them almost fifteen minutes to get him out of the truck, then another ten to drag him to the edge of the field.

  “This seems like the best place to put him,” Randy said. “Overlooking his fields.”

  Jenny nodded, and they turned to fetch their mother.

  Anita Tucker’s corpse was much lighter than her husband’s, but still no less of a struggle. Randy took her arms, and Jenny her legs, and together they walked their mother out to the end of the service road where they rested her next to their father.

  They stood in silence for a few moments. While their parents were Christian, they didn’t practice regularly. And since Randy and Jenny had spent even less time in church, no Bible verses came to mind. It made Randy wonder if they should have gone a little more.

  “I can’t think of anything to say,” Jenny said, looking down.

  “We’ve got to say something,” Randy replied, then he took a step closer and looked out across the blackened field before returning his gaze to his parents. “You two were the best mother and father we could have asked for. You cared for us always. Not just putting food on the table, but you always worried about our problems and tried to give us the best advice. And when Mom couldn’t solve it for us, she’d resort to a piece of—”

  “Apple pie,” Jenny said, chuckling.

  “That’s right,” Randy said before his voice tapered off into a whisper, and his heart ached in his chest. He left off with a few simple words. “We love you guys, and we’ll miss you.”

  “That wasn’t bad, big brother,” Jenny smiled and sniffed. “Not bad at all.”

  “Thanks.” Randy grinned sheepishly.

  A low buzz vibrated, and the siblings looked around to locate the sound.

  “Oh, it’s my phone.” Jenny lifted the device from a plastic pocket she’d fashioned in her suit and held it up. The phone was inside a plastic sandwich bag, protected from contamination. “It’s a text from Ally.”

  “Still alive?” Randy asked.

  Jenny nodded and shook the phone. “Duh.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At home,” Jenny said as she read the text. “She wants us to come and help her.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Randy asked.

  “Are you kidding,” Jenny scoffed, then she started down the service road toward the house. “It’s the only idea we have.”

  Randy took one last glance at his parents and then hustled to catch up with Jenny, his plastic crinkling as he moved.

  “We need to look for survivors,” Jenny continued, “and look for help.”

  “Should we take the truck?” Randy asked, glancing at the vehicle. “It’s covered in BD.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Jenny said. “We’ll kick up plenty of BD, but it won’t matter because we’ll be well ahead of it. Plus, we’re protected now. I mean, unless you want to walk the ten miles to her house in these plastic suits.”

  Randy acknowledged her point with a nod. He was already sweating bad in the warm, late spring air. “You’re right,” he said. “Maybe we could walk it at night, but not during the day.”

  “It’s settled then,” Jenny gave him a single nod. “We take the truck.”

  Chapter 19

  Randy and Jenny Tucker, Kentland, Indiana

  Randy drove the pickup along I-41 north at a steady forty-five miles per hour with a constant tugging of uncertainty at the back of his mind. He gripped the wheel tight, eyes constantly glancing into his rearview mirror to gauge the effect their passing had on the BD.

  The fungus wasn’t covering the roads completely, though it crept up from the fields. Wherever their tires struck a patch of crimson and black, tendrils sprung up ten feet in the air to hang for several seconds before drifting to the concrete.

  “I wonder what would happen if it rained?” Randy mumbled.

  “What?” Jenny asked from the passenger side, glancing down at the ripped-up fabric they’d used to fashion their masks.

  “I was just looking at the BD. It seems to shoot higher into the air when we run over it.”

  “That’s probably because we’re flying through it in the truck.”

  “Right. Friction, weight, and speed affect how much we aggravate it.” Randy frowned. “So, I was wondering what would happen if it rained.”

  “You’re talking like it’s alive.”

  “It is alive,” Randy argued. “It’s a fungus, probably. Didn’t you pay attention in science class?”

  “Of course, I did,” Jenny said. “But a fungus is not a person. It’s not an evil force or something.”

  “Yo
u know what I mean.”

  They rode in silence for the next few minutes as the flat, Indiana fields flew by. There wasn’t a single car on the road, and the fungus painted the fields black and crimson.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Randy said, “but I’d give anything to see those miles of boring cornfields again.”

  “You and me both, brother,” Jenny agreed.

  They took country road 1700 west until they came to Ally’s house at the corner of another intersection. Ally Walker’s house was a quaint two-story home nestled beneath the shade of several tall, old trees, the leaves now drooped with fungus. Two big white barns lay off to the side along with several sizeable pieces of farm equipment. Green spots shined on the hood of a John Deere tractor amidst of the fungal spread.

  Randy pulled his truck in behind the Tucker’s vehicles, put it in park, and shut it off. “Okay, let’s go see how Ally’s doing.”

  They exited the truck, shutting their doors softly behind them. Jenny took the lead and walked up the front steps so she didn’t disturb the BD. She knocked and then stood back. The sound of movement came from inside the house, and Randy saw the glass of the bay window shaking ever so slightly. Ally’s face appeared on the other side of the glass. She had a long, pretty face and light hair, and her smile spread wide when she saw her friends.

  Ally held up her index finger to indicate, “one second,” and then moved toward the front door.

  “Did you see her face?” Randy said just loud enough for Jenny to hear. “She’s got speckles on it.”

  “I saw,” Jenny acknowledged.

  The front door came open, and Ally grinned at them through the storm door glass. “Hey, Jenny!” she practically squealed. When she tried to push the storm door open, and it didn’t budge, she looked down to see that Randy had put his boot against it to hold it shut.

  “Hi, Ally,” Jenny said with a crooked smile.

  “Why is Randy’s foot against the door?” Ally asked as her eyes switched to him.

  “I don’t think we should come in, Ally,” Jenny replied for him. “We just stirred up a bunch of dust out here. We need to keep our distance.”

  Ally threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “Of course. Sorry, but I’m just so happy to see you guys.”

  “Where are your parents?” Jenny asked, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  “They were at church in Kentland when the stuff came.” Ally coughed before her eyes lifted to the trees surrounding her home. She frowned at the mold-covered leaves.

  Jenny gestured behind her toward the yard. “How did you know something was wrong out there?”

  “You mean, the stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ally pointed past Jenny and Randy out into the yard. The siblings turned. Out near the barn, a golden retriever lay on its side in a patch of green grass with a tennis ball in its mouth. Randy recognized it as the Walker’s family pet, Goldy.

  “Poor Goldy,” Jenny said with a sad frown. She turned back to her friend, placing her gloved hand against the glass. “I’m so sorry, Ally.”

  “It sucks,” Ally nodded, “but it probably saved my life. We were playing fetch. I tossed his tennis ball, and he ran to fetch it. But when he came back, he ran right through the dust cloud that had just drifted in out of nowhere. He choked, and then...” Ally sobbed and put her hand over her mouth to cover a mild coughing fit.

  Randy exchanged a look with his sister.

  “It’s okay,” Jenny comforted her friend through the glass, then her voice lifted. “Have you heard from anyone else?”

  Ally’s eyes lifted from Goldy’s corpse to Jenny. “There have been some texts going around. Some kids are meeting at Benton High school. Others say the Kentland Library. But I’m afraid to leave the house.”

  “That was the smartest thing you could have done,” Randy said.

  “Where are you two holed up?” Ally asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “At the house,” Jenny replied. “We’ve got a sort of decontamination setup going on. You know, like they have in the movies.”

  “Great! You should let me come with you.”

  Randy and Jenny exchanged another look. Jenny’s eyes were uncertain, and Randy suspected it wasn’t just because her friend was probably sick. It was because Jenny couldn’t bring herself to leave her friend behind. Randy hardened his heart, because he knew that’s what they would do.

  Ally’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. “You are taking me with you, right?”

  Jenny’s eyes grew pained as she faced her friend. “You seem sick, Ally. Not a lot, but enough to make us sick, and others, too. You probably shouldn’t be around anyone right now.”

  “No way, guys.” Ally’s eyes grew wide with surprise before her expression dissolved into fear. “You can’t possibly be serious. There’s no way I can stay here alone.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jenny assured her. “You just have to take care of yourself. And don’t go outside.” Then, as if remembering something important, Jenny held up the plastic-wrapped air filtration mask they’d brought her. “And look. We brought you this mask. It should help if you’re desperate and need to leave the house.”

  “For food or something,” Randy added.

  “But you really need to stay inside, Ally.” Jenny reinforced the idea. “If you go to any of those places, like the school or church, you might infect someone.”

  Ally stared at the mask with relief, though she still seemed pensive about them leaving her at the house. “But what am I supposed to do? Just sit here?”

  “The electric is still on, for now,” Randy said with what he hoped was a cheeky grin. “So, think of it as a sick day from school. Chill and Netflix, or whatever you want to do. Get better.”

  “We’ll go check on your parents at the church in Kentland,” Jenny offered, “and then we’ll try the library. If we have time, we’ll head down to Benton High School and see if anyone showed up.”

  “Okay,” Ally said, frowning with uncertainty. “I’ll keep trying to text people. And thanks for the mask.”

  Jenny held out the mask, and Randy stepped back. Ally pushed the door open enough to leave a narrow gap, and Jenny handed the mask inside to her.

  After saying their goodbyes, Randy and Jenny climbed back into the pickup truck. Randy backed the truck around and then pulled out of the Walker’s driveway, heading north toward the small town of Kentland.

  “We don’t have to check on all that, you know,” Randy suggested with a flat, doubtful tone. “The library, church, or the gym.”

  “But we said we would.”

  “You said we would.” Randy gripped the wheel harder. “Not me.”

  “It’s the least we can do for her.” Jenny shot her brother an accusatory look. “She’s my friend.”

  “I know that, Jenny.” A shadow passed over Randy’s eyes as he looked ahead. “She’s mine, too. But we still need to be careful. We don’t know how long we can make it in these suits without dehydrating, and our decontamination area is back at home. If we must take these suits off for any reason, we’re as good as dead.”

  “We also have an obligation to search for survivors.” Jenny’s voice was firm behind the plastic mask. “There might be some like-minded people we can team up with.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he agreed, “but there could be people left alive who aren’t interested in teaming up. People who would do us harm.”

  “What people are you worried about?” Jenny asked with an incredulous shake of her head.

  “I’m worried about that.” Randy nodded ahead.

  Jenny faced the front of the truck, eyes narrowing to see what Randy was talking about. Her jaw fell open, concern written on her face.

  There was smoke rising out of Kentland.

  Chapter 20

  Randy and Jenny Tucker, Kentland, Indiana

  The twins approached Kentland on US 52, the road stretching north straight into the east side of town. A d
ozen fires sent trails of soot into the sky, and the uneasy feeling in Randy’s chest gave a twist.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s at the truck stop,” Jenny said, peering out the passenger side window at the combination Shell Station and Kentland Truck Stop. “Wait, behind the gas pumps. I see a few people lying around the front door, and the driver of that semi looks dead behind the wheel.”

  Randy glanced over at the big semi-trailer truck pulled up to the side of the building and confirmed Jenny’s observation. Then his eyes darted to the front of the store and glanced over the half-dozen people laying in front. “I wonder if they were trying to get in or out?”

  “Good question. I don’t see anyone inside.”

  “They’d be hiding,” Randy murmured. “They’d have food for a little while, but it would be mostly snacks.”

  The Plate Lunch Diner went by with only two cars in the parking lot. The blinds were drawn tight, and the sign on the front door read CLOSED.

  “They’re definitely inside,” Randy said with a shake of his head.

  “Their food is terrible,” Jenny added with a wry grin. “Probably kill them before the BD does.”

  A short way up, Randy turned left and crossed the wide double-lane highway to enter Kent Street. That swung them to the northwest for two hundred yards before they turned left onto Allen Street. The subdivision held widely dispersed homes with grass and trees covered in crimson and black fungus.

  They passed two large homes on the left before Randy slowed the truck.

  “There’s the church,” Jenny said, looking to their left.

  Randy pulled to the right side of the road near the parking lot, stopped the truck, and put it in park. Then he shifted in his seat to get a better view of the church. The placard in front read St. Joseph Catholic Church with a line underneath that read, Enter by the grace of God.

  Five bodies lay near the doors, apparently killed by BD while running back to the parking lot on the other side of the road.

  “Two of them were kids.” Randy bit his lip and shook his head.