Spore Series (Book 1): Spore

by Soward, Kenny

  “Were they trying to run from the church?” Jenny asked with a frown.

  “Maybe they were late for mass,” Randy replied, “and someone locked them out.”

  “Not funny, Randy.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he said. “When the BD hit, the people inside the church probably locked the doors. A few stragglers showed up, couldn’t get in, and tried to run back to their cars.”

  “That makes sense,” Jenny agreed, reluctantly. “They didn’t make it far.” Her eyes shifted back to the church. “Do you think there’s anyone left alive in there?”

  Randy turned off the pickup and shot Jenny a look. “Only one way to find out.”

  They got out of the truck and shut their doors. Despite them being gentle, they still caused black tendrils to swirl upward into the air. As they approached the church doors, Randy glanced down at the corpses, their twisted faces and bulging eyes making his stomach turn.

  Lifting his eyes to the twin church doors, Randy climbed the steps and put his plastic-covered ear to the wood. He couldn’t hear anything inside, so he raised his fist to pound on one.

  “Don’t,” his sister snapped, stopping Randy from striking the wood. He turned and saw her holding up a small stone in her hand wrapped with a rag from the truck. “We can’t afford to rip the plastic on our suits.”

  “Good idea, Jen.” Randy stepped aside to give her room.

  Jenny moved up the stairs, lifted the rag-covered rock, and pounded it against the door three times. The rock made a dull thud against the wood.

  “That should be plenty loud enough,” Randy said, putting his ear to the door once again. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side, so he nodded for Jenny to keep knocking.

  She pounded on the door and then called out in a muffled voice. “Hello, hello! Anyone inside!”

  They waited for someone to answer, but no one came. Randy put his hand on the ornate brass door handle and pulled gently. The door opened an inch as something shifted on the other side. Randy let go, yet the door didn’t fall shut like he expected.

  “It’s not even locked,” he said, glancing at his sister. “It feels like there’s something on the other side.”

  “That’s strange.” Jenny pursed her lips to the side like she always did when she wasn’t quite sure of something. “I don’t want to open it, but I guess we should.”

  “Okay, you open one door, and I’ll open the other.” Randy grabbed the door handle on his side, and Jenny grabbed the one on hers. He nodded. “On three. One...two...three.”

  They pulled the doors open together in one smooth motion and held them apart. A waft of BD tendrils exploded from the church hall, and a pile of four mold-ridden bodies tumbled out.

  Randy let go of the door handle and leapt over the side rail as Jenny screamed and danced down the stairs. Randy landed hard on the concrete with his hands coming down to break his fall. He raised his palms just before they scraped against the rough ground, balancing like a skier who’d just stuck a landing.

  He spun to see Jenny standing in the middle of the road with her hands on her hips, shaking her head at the church. Randy joined her, limping on his stinging ankles.

  “They were holding the door shut,” Randy said. “But the BD still got inside.”

  The black tendrils were blowing in their direction, so Randy nudged his sister with his elbow. “Come on. Let’s go.” When she didn’t immediately follow, Randy turned back to her. “What is it now?”

  “Ally’s parents. We have to make sure they’re dead, or alive.”

  “Seriously, Jen?”

  “We promised her we’d look.”

  Randy wanted to argue, though he knew it would be futile. Once Jenny had made a promise, an army couldn’t stop her from seeing it through.

  “We wait for that stuff to settle first,” Randy said, taking her arm and pulling her away.

  They backed up to the other side of the road while the BD floated down to streak across the gray concrete. Randy watched as one tendril landed near his shoe, the strange fungus spreading out and turning that red, agitated color.

  After it settled, they moved to the front door, stepping around the bodies that had fallen out. Randy was hoping two of them were Ally’s parents so they could move on from the place, then he corrected himself with a shake of his head. It would be much better if they weren’t inside at all.

  “Do you think you can even identify them?”

  “I can,” Jenny said, stepping past the four bodies at the door and moving into the church.

  It had been some time since Randy went to St. Joe’s, though he remembered it being modest in size with a large membership. As they stepped inside, Randy’s eyes adjusted to the dim illumination given off by overhead lights that hung from the ceiling. He gazed across the pews to the altar on the other side of the chamber rectory, and he swore he smelled the old wood of the place through his mask. The stained-glass windows blazed with the iconic images of saints and angels, and a sense of reverence settled on Randy’s shoulders.

  Between the doors and the altar was the congregation. Randy estimated there were thirty or forty people spread out across the pews. Some lay in the aisle while others had collapsed over the backs of their seats, bodies contorted in BD. The fungus was streaked everywhere and had already begun spreading, floor to ceiling. Randy was amazed at how fast it grew, even in its less agitated state.

  He turned his head to regain some of his composure even as Jenny stepped deeper inside the chamber. After a moment, he shook his head and followed her. His sister moved from corpse to corpse, leaning down to get a better view of their faces before moving on.

  “Just don’t touch anyone,” Randy spoke loud enough for her to hear him through his mask.

  Randy didn’t know Ally like Jenny did, and he knew the young woman’s parents even less. He followed Jenny down the center aisle, watching to make sure her suit didn’t get caught on anything.

  She stopped at the third row from the front and studied a pair of bodies sitting up and leaning against each other in the pew. “Found them,” she said, stepping back.

  Randy caught up with her and looked down at Ally’s parents. The pair were clutching one another, their heads hanging low, eyes closed tight. Randy noticed the black fungus around their mouths and noses.

  “How are they so peaceful?” he said. “I mean, they were choking to death.”

  “They knew what was happening,” his sister replied, “and they clung to each other in the end. They died with faith in their hearts.”

  “I’m not sure faith had anything to do with—”

  “It did, Randy.” Jenny’s eyes were red-rimmed as she glared at her brother. “They had faith in each other, and God. And that’s what I’ll tell Ally. That’s all that’s important.”

  “All right, Jen.” Randy made a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t get mad at me.”

  “I’m not.” She turned back to the dead couple. “I’m just...frustrated.”

  “You and me both.”

  Not wanting to upset his sister any further, Randy waited patiently while Jenny moved closer and inspected the two. She reached into Ally’s mother’s purse and hunted for something. When she found it, she put it into her plastic pocket and turned to Randy with a nod.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she said.

  Outside, they stood next to the pickup truck and leaned against the truck bed. It should have felt good to be out of the church, but Randy was still hot and sweating bad in his plastic suit. Salty moisture pooled up along the bottom of his mask, and his face itched like mad.

  “We need to clean up a bit before we move on,” Randy said, staring at his arm where streaks of BD had settled on his plastic suit. “We’re absolutely covered in this stuff.”

  “Okay, let’s bleach up,” Jenny agreed.

  Randy grabbed a gallon of bleach, a bucket, and some sponges out of the back of the pickup. He poured some bleach into the bucket, dipped the sponge inside, and started wipin
g down Jenny’s plastic suit as she turned in a circle. They didn’t know if the bleach killed the BD, though it seemed to do a good job of getting it off smooth surfaces. He inspected her suit for holes, making sure she wasn’t compromised.

  “You’re good,” Randy said.

  “Your turn.”

  They switched positions and Jenny did the same for Randy. When they finished, Randy put the cleaning supplies back into the bed of the pickup, and they climbed inside with Randy behind the wheel.

  He turned in his seat and gave his sister a firm stare. “Okay, do we keep looking around or head back to Ally’s?”

  “Let’s check the library,” Jenny said. “Then we’ll go back to Ally’s before heading home.”

  “All right.”

  Randy started the pickup truck and pulled away from St. Joseph’s.

  Chapter 21

  Randy and Jenny Tucker, Kentland, Indiana

  Randy took a right on 4th Street, cruising up the block as his eyes scanned ahead for danger.

  “It looks like the smoke is coming from the north part of town,” he said, watching five columns of smoke rising into the sky.

  “Yeah. You think someone started setting people’s houses on fire?”

  Randy shook his head. “No idea. Could be the gas lines, too. I mean, if almost everyone is dead, then who’s keeping the gas and power on? Who’s making sure it’s all running smooth?”

  “I don’t imagine we’ll have gas and power for long.”

  They drove past Ray’s Fireworks on their right. Like the Lunch Plate Diner, they’d pulled the window blinds shut tight and the sign on the front read CLOSED.

  At the end of 4th Street, Randy turned left which put them on Seymour. It was the main strip that cut east to west through the center of town. It had gas stations, fast-food restaurants, a CVS drug store, and a bank.

  As soon as they turned, Jenny rose in her seat and pointed ahead. “At least we’ll still have some kind of law and order around here.”

  Randy almost didn’t believe his eyes. Two police officers stood at the corner entrance of the Newton County Jail. They wore dark blue coveralls with official markings and the name of the jail stenciled on the back. The officers wore air filtration masks and gloves for protection, and their thick police belts held holstered weapons, ammunition pouches, and batons.

  Randy hit the gas and caused the engine to kick up, drawing the officers’ attention. One officer immediately raised his hand and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk. Randy pulled their truck up to the corner as Jenny rolled down her window.

  The officer started to rest his hand on the upper door frame but pulled back when he saw the mold growth. He was a middle-aged man, clean shaved with strong, gray eyebrows. His blue eyes looked back and forth between the twins, sizing up their intentions.

  “Hey, Sheriff Stans.” Jenny spoke loudly and clearly. “It’s Jenny and Randy Tucker.”

  “I’d recognize that red hair anywhere,” Sheriff Stans said with the flash of a smile in his eyes . “How are you kids doing?”

  “Surviving,” Randy said. “You have any idea what’s going on, sheriff?”

  “You probably know as much as me,” Stans said. “The news says there are toxic clouds in the air. Emergency services contact can’t confirm if it’s a terrorist attack, but that’s what me and my officers think.”

  “I think it came from the spraying,” Jenny said. “We were out in our yard when we saw Harvey’s plane go down.”

  “All of his helicopters crashed, too, just after they started spraying.” Randy added to his sister’s story. “This huge black cloud came up. I call it BD. It stands for Big Death.”

  The sheriff nodded as he digested the information. “How about your mom and dad? They doing okay?”

  “They didn’t make it,” Jenny said, pausing to hold back tears. “They were out in the field when the spraying started. We barely got away ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Stans looked genuinely concerned, then he nodded to their plastic attire. “Pretty clever, you kids. Doesn’t surprise me you made it.”

  “We have a decontamination room setup at the house,” Jenny said. “And it seems like bleach works great for getting it off our suits.” Her voice grew hopeful. “Sheriff, is there anyone else in town left alive? We just checked the church, but everyone’s dead. Our friend, Ally, heard people might be gathering at the library. So, we’re going there next.”

  The sheriff’s expression grew grave. “To be honest, we haven’t had a chance to do much of anything since all this started. Only four of my officers reported in today, and just three of the jail staff. We’re doing everything we can to just hold down the fort here. We sealed off the old cell block, which has its own closed-air ventilation. The prisoners are all locked down, but this is an old cell block with old magnetic locks. Can’t tell you what will happen when the power goes out and the generators kick in. The lock safety mechanisms might work, or they might not.”

  “That wouldn’t be good, sheriff,” Randy agreed.

  “Well, we’ve got backup plans and ways of dealing with it, but it’s going to be hard being so understaffed.”

  Randy nodded his understanding. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  “Actually, yes. I think you should check the library like you planned,” Stans said. “But as soon as you’re done there, I’d greatly appreciate it if you kids could round up some water and food supplies for us so I can keep all my officers on site. The inmates know something is up, and they’re getting riled.”

  “Of course,” Randy said, looking at Jenny who was already nodding to the officer. “We’d be glad to help.”

  The Sheriff let out an appreciative sigh. “That’s great, kids. I’d try the Food King and Dollar General. If you can’t find anything there, try the CVS Pharmacy. And if anyone gives you any trouble, tell them it’s by order of Sheriff Stans.

  “You got it, sheriff,” Randy said with an enthusiastic nod, although he doubted there was anyone left alive to even give them any trouble.

  The sheriff started to slap the top of the pickup, but drew his hand back with a shake of his head. Randy pulled the truck away from the curb and continued along Seymour.

  “It’s a relief to know those guys made it,” Jenny said.

  “I hadn’t even thought about the jail.” Randy replied, shaking his head. “The sheriff said the inmates were locked down, which means all of them must have survived the BD. Doesn’t seem fair they’re still alive when so many good folks have passed.”

  “Just because they’re in the Newton County Jail doesn’t mean they deserve to die,” Jenny chided him.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Sure you did,” Jenny said with some heat taken off her words. “But I get what you’re saying.”

  They drove in silence as they reached 2nd Street and took a right. A block later, Randy pulled into the Kentland Library parking lot and pulled the truck to a stop.

  “There’s some cars,” Jenny gestured at the lot. “Could be good.”

  “Could be bad, too.” Randy gestured to a dead woman who had perished trying to get into her car, her body collapsed against the door.

  They got out of the pickup and walked around the library, peering into the windows. The Kentland Library was a modern building, by Kentland Standards, and had newer windows and ventilation. The grounds were well-kept, with pristine landscaping and a flower garden marked with a short stone retaining wall. BD streaked the red brick walls and grass where the fungus had staked its claim.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Jenny said as they worked their way to the front door.

  Randy put his hand to the glass of the door and peered inside at the rows of bookshelves and the stairwell going up. Newer carpet covered the floor with a random, swirling design.

  “I don’t see any dead bodies,” Randy said.

  “We should go inside and check.” Jenny reached for the door handle.

 
“Don’t open that!” someone shouted as they crossed into Randy’s vision with their hand thrown up.

  Jenny jerked away from the glass and put her hand to her chest. “Oh, it’s just Mrs. Brody,” Jenny said to Randy before turning back to the door. “Hey, Mrs. Brody!” Jenny waved. “It’s Randy and Jenny Tucker.”

  Mary Brody was a thin, bookish woman in her late thirties. She wore jeans and a blouse with her name tag pinned to the breast. She’d pinned her blondish-gray hair to the top of her head.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she called through the glass with obvious relief etched across her features. “You have no idea.”

  “Is there anyone else inside with you?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes, I have a handful of students from the reading club down in the basement.” The librarian looked outside at the fungus-covered grass. “We didn’t know what was happening outside, so we sealed up all the doors and locked them. How are you kids—”

  Mrs. Brody’s eyes grew wide as she looked over Randy’s shoulder, and Randy caught a man’s reflection rushing at him in the glass.

  He leapt aside just as a crowbar swung by and glanced the front door, causing spiderweb cracks in the glass from the point of impact. The man turned and brought up the crowbar again, but Randy put the flat of his boot into the man’s side and kicked him to the ground.

  The short, stocky man looked sick and weak as he struggled to rise. He wore a Dickie’s work shirt with a dust mask covering his face. Randy didn’t recognize him, so he suspected it might be a truck driver passing through. Spots of fungus peppered the corners of his eyes and the front of his dust mask.

  The man spoke but immediately broke into a fit of coughing. By the time he’d finished, bloody spittle stained the dust mask and dripped off his chin.

  “Hey, man.” Randy held up his hands and backed away. “It looks like you need some help. Let us help you.”

  “First, I need your mask,” the man said, stumbling forward as he gestured. “Your gas mask.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to help you.” Randy backpedaled as he glanced over the man’s shoulder at Jenny. Her eyes were wide as she picked up one of the retaining wall bricks. “It might be better to get you to the hospital. Maybe someone—”