“Just hang on, son. I’ll get you to the hospital as soon as I find Roger.”
Clint spit out a mouthful of blood at the same time he tried to say something. Regina didn’t ask him to repeat the words. “I’m gonna put you in the back seat for a minute until I secure the area. Any idea where he—and the others—might be?”
“Last I saw him he was tryin’ to help Hightower and Reynolds. They were on the backside of the semi. The driver was trapped inside, and they all were working on trying to get him out. I was helpin’ the EMTs load up the gurneys when I heard Roger yell for help. Took off runnin’ in their direction, but by the time I made it, well, shit went down fast.”
Regina’s mouth was dry. She forced her lips to move. “Then what?”
“It was a waste of time. The guys were surrounded.”
“Surrounded—by those things? How many? You sayin’ you think Roger’s dead?”
Clint groaned as Regina leaned him against the hood of her unit. Pausing long enough to grab the mic on her shoulder, she radioed for backup.
No response other than the continual static. She tried again, requesting an ambulance.
Nothing.
Where in the hell is Geenie?
After unlocking the back door, she helped ease Clint into the seat. “Yeah, I think so. There were four of those things surroundin’ them all. They attacked at the same time. They were so fast…I took aim but didn’t fire…afraid I’d shoot Roger. Right when one knocked him to the ground, I heard somethin’ behind me, but turned around too late. It jumped me.”
“Oh, God. Did you kill it?”
Clint leaned his head against the seat and winced. “Yeah, but not before he—it—whatever the hell you call it, tore me up. Unloaded my Glock until it quit tearin’ me apart. Found out takin’ its head off was the trick. Ha, just like on TV. Who knew those crazy people in Hollywood were right on the money?”
Regina saw tears run down the boy’s face. Clint’s skin was pale and clammy. A fleeting memory of the day she interviewed him flashed by. He’d been just a few months’ shy of turning twenty-two, all muscle and attitude, ready to get on the streets and make a difference in the community he’d grown up in. A former football star at Malvern High School, Clint Chesterson had been a textbook jock. He’d skated through his classes, his teachers looking the other way when he turned in homework obviously not a product of his own. Clint’s sole focus was getting a football scholarship to Fayetteville to play for the Hogs.
The lifelong dream of the only son of Harold and Jeanie Chesterson ended the final game of his senior year after Clint suffered a torn ACL and broken left foot.
The image of him sitting across from her while he practically begged for a chance to have a real career made Regina’s heart pound with grief. She had wanted to say no, tell him he wasn’t ready, yet in the end, she caved. Something behind his big, brown eyes struck a sensitive spot inside her heart. Against her better judgment, she decided to give the kid a chance.
Now, as she stared at his life-altering injuries, Regina regretted the decision.
A gash about six inches long started at his temple and ended under his chin. She could see the milky white sections of his skull and cheekbone. A steady stream of red leaked from it, dripping onto the collar of his jacket. She took off her jacket and pressed it against the wound and then guided his hands to take over. His breathing was short and hollow as his lungs filled with fluid.
“From the sounds I heard from the others, they didn’t make it either. Listen,” Clint reached out a bloodied hand and grabbed Regina’s. She winced at how cold it was. “I’ve got maybe half-hour, tops. Don’t worry about me none. I’ve already made peace with my maker. After what I saw earlier, I ain’t sure I want to stick around for what’s comin’ next. Go, see if you can help the others. Takin’ me to the hospital would be a wasted trip because I’m a goner. Just be careful, Chief. Those things are fast. And hungry.”
“Don’t talk like that, son. I’ll get you…”
Clint’s grip intensified. “No, you won’t. Just…promise me to get my parents outta here. Find Walter and Martha Addison. They’ll know what to do. They’ve been waitin’ for this day to arrive for years. Please, Chief, don’t let one of those monsters get to my mom and dad. Promise?”
Regina didn’t have time to answer Clint’s request. Movement to her right caught her attention. Shutting the door, she spun around and pulled her Glock. Her hands shook while she planted her feet and took aim at the grotesque monster that once had been Officer Roger Singleton.
Son of a bitch. This ain’t happening!
Tears ran down Regina’s cheeks as she pulled the trigger, wondering how she’d tell Mary Louise Singleton she had to shoot her already-dead grandson in the head.
Before Roger’s corpse hit the ground, the tornado siren peeled out across the quiet morning air. Stunned, she looked up into the cloudless sky, wondering if she’d lost her mind. Choking back the sobs as she watched her friend bleed out on the roadway, Regina forced herself not to succumb to the urge to collapse into a ball and cry.
Rather than running a full cycle, the wail cut short and was replaced by a robotic voice. “All residents of Hot Spring County are to report to Malvern High School. You have ten minutes to comply before house-to-house searches begin.”
The message ended and the siren trilled again, sending its loud sound waves across the expanse of Hot Spring County. Regina refused to look at Roger’s corpse and stepped away from her car toward the fire truck up ahead. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t check on the others before leaving.
Her altruistic intentions vanished at the sight of several people—no, things—crossing the interstate. They were all heading toward the source of the noise blaring above them. Regina’s heart skipped a beat.
Geenie.
The closest siren was situated less than one-hundred feet from the station.
She tried the radio on her shoulder.
The results were the same.
Nothing.
Regina focused her gaze on the bloodied, strange moving bodies. She could see the sun glint off the badges of two of them, and that was confirmation enough. Spinning around, she jumped into her car and threw it into drive.
“Hang on, Clint. I’ll get you to the hospital in a flash. Just hang on.”
Regina glanced in the rear-view mirror. Clint’s eyes were closed, hands still holding her jacket against his head. Clint’s response a slight nod. Jerking the wheel hard left, she made a half turn and crossed the grass-covered median. Once on the other side and on the exit ramp, she floored it.
Back on 270, Regina slowed down while navigating around the throng of stalled vehicles. Some people stood outside or leaned against their hoods, talking nervously to their fellow neighbors. Regina felt her stomach drop.
They were in immense danger and they didn’t have a clue.
Worried they might not be interested in any more instructions from the government, she opted for a different tactic. Turning on the outside speakers, Regina barked into the microphone, “This is Chief Parker of Rockport PD. Get back in your vehicles, roll up the windows and lock your doors. Right now! Danger coming from I-30 East. If you are armed, shoot the head. Repeat—shoot the head.”
The reaction was immediate. Residents jumped back into their vehicles. A few hesitated while looking toward the freeway. Regina made it to the center lane and gunned it. The hospital was less than three miles up ahead in the middle part of old downtown Malvern.
Unfortunately, the streets were barricaded and a large contingent of armed military personnel were in the way. They stood guard at the red light at the intersection of Cross and Highway 270, blocking the path to the hospital. Cars inched forward as IDs were checked, then were allowed to proceed to the high school.
“Shit,” Regina whispered. Worried Clint might have heard the fear in her voice, she quickly added, “Almost there, Clint…”
The sick, mewling grumble she heard
while back on the freeway hit Regina’s ears. Before she had a chance to react, Clint’s fingers poked through the partition and grabbed a handful of her hair. He pulled with such force, Regina’s head smashed into the metal separating the front and back sections of the patrol car.
Slamming on the brakes, the force in momentum freed her from Clint’s fingers after a large chunk of her hair ripped out. In a state of panic, Regina threw the car into park and jumped out.
She was greeted by a swarm of soldiers. One pulled her backward as another took aim and fired. The glass shattered, and she could see Clint’s head explode all over the backseat and rear window. Screams of sheer terror erupted all around the street as residents cringed in horror. Some fled on foot while others jumped back into their vehicles and tried to leave the gridlocked road.
Regina tried to intervene when the soldier who’d grabbed her raised his weapon at an elderly woman ten feet away. The woman was dazed and confused, tears running down her wrinkled cheeks. She strode toward the barricade and refused to stop, even when given the order to do so.
Without thinking about the consequences, Regina lunged forward and pushed the barrel of the gun to the ground. Before she could say a word in protest, the soldier spun around and brought the butt of the gun directly to the side of her head.
The impact knocked Regina to the ground. Blackness with specks of white dots clouded her vision. She shook her head and noticed blood spurted out onto the road. She took in a few gulps of cold air to regain her bearings, ignoring the throbbing pain.
Then, all hell broke loose.
Just as the soldiers descended on the crowd, guns pointed in their faces, someone yelled, “Oh, my God! Run! They’re comin’ this way!”
Shots rang out in quick succession and the entire area descended into madness.
Regina stood and felt her knees go weak as a throng of the dead too large to count came over the rise from the freeway. The teeming mass wasn’t running yet still moved fast. The soldiers forgot all about the fleeing live bodies and concentrated on taking out the dead.
Lord, please take care of my family.
Regina pulled out her gun and ran to join the line of defense to protect her hometown.
TESTING COMMENCES - Saturday - December 20th – 7:25 a.m.
Reed stood in the middle of the small living room and stared at Jesse and Turner. They sat on the couch huddled together like one unit rather than two separate individuals. When the kid appeared at the door and knocked earlier, he looked worried. Once inside and with Jesse damn near in his lap, the boy had calmed down somewhat. For the last few minutes, Turner rambled nonstop, pausing only once when the tornado sirens blared, followed by instructions to leave.
Reed listened to Turner explain what his parents had planned, and how he wanted Jesse, and her family, to come with them. Reed was still chewing over all the information.
“Mr. Newberry?”
“Yes?”
Turner fidgeted and tried to inject an authoritative air into his words. “Are we goin’ or stayin’?”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere or doin’ anythin’ until Mom’s here. Period. Uncle Reed, would you try callin’ her again please? My phone’s dead.”
Reed ran his fingers through his hair as though the movement would somehow magically release an answer inside his head. “Jesse, the lines are jammed. Or down. Won’t do any good to try again. Besides, she’s probably swamped at the moment.”
“Bullshit!” Jesse roared. “I’m not leavin’ without her! Let’s just go to the station and ask her what she thinks, right now!”
“Honey, we don’t need to be on the streets…”
Jesse shook off Turner’s arm, stood, and started pacing. Reed could see she was close to full meltdown.
“Don’t, Turner! Just…don’t! God, this isn’t real! It’s an awful nightmare!”
Reed swallowed his own sense of dread and tried to keep his voice calm. “Jesse, I know you’re upset. We all are. We’re in the midst of a situation none of us are ready to deal with…”
“My family is, sir, if you don’t mind me sayin’. We have a safe place to go to…”
Holding up a hand to silence the eager kid, Reed continued, “We don’t really know what all is happening, except for viewing some disturbing videos online and what we saw on the news.”
“You forgot the fact the freakin’ military just drove through town! Oh, and they are instructing us to go to the school. They said we had to or else!” Jesse said, her voice cracking under the stress.
“Jesse—breathe. Your mom is doing her job, which is to protect the people of Rockport. My job is to protect you. So, I think since this…” Reed struggled to find the right words, “…current situation is still in its infancy we should go ahead and head to the school. If some disease is floating around in the air, we need to know, and take necessary precautions to keep from getting sick.”
Turner’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Reed like he was crazy. “Are you serious? You’re willin’ to put your lives in the hands of the government? When has that ever been a good idea? Haven’t you read about…?”
Shocked by the kid’s sudden outburst, Reed felt his anger boil. He stepped forward and put himself in between his niece and her boyfriend. “Look, I know you seem to think you know more than I do, but don’t you dare take that tone…”
Reed’s dressing down was cut off when the front door burst open. Four men in full combat gear, including masks and loaded automatic rifles, entered the house. Jesse screamed and Turner jumped up from the couch, presumably, to put himself between her and the soldiers. The one closest to Turner barked, “Don’t move or I will shoot you.”
“No need for all this. We were just about to head to the school. Just discussin’ family business, that’s all.”
The one closest to Reed jutted his head toward the door. “Well, isn’t that nice? We were just about to provide you an escort. You will need to remove your weapon nice and easy. Set it on the table. Don’t try anything or you will regret it.”
Reed stiffened at the ominous tone. He couldn’t believe he was being ordered by a fellow American—at gunpoint—to give up his weapon. “It’s okay, sir. I’m U.S. Border Patrol, retired. Just tryin’ to keep my family…”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass. Remove your weapon. Now.”
The thought of disarming himself made Reed’s stomach quiver. For a second, he considered disobeying. Reed nixed the idea, afraid the decision would put Jesse and Turner in jeopardy. With slow, calculated movements, he removed the gun and set in on the coffee table.
“Smart choice. Any other weapons to declare before we pat you all down?”
Reed shook his head. “Not on me, no.”
“All of you raise your arms and lock your fingers together.”
The three complied and were patted down briskly by the soldier closest to them. Out of the corner of his eye, Reed noticed Jesse’s face was snow white. He feared she might suffer a panic attack any second.
Satisfied, the soldier who’d frisked them stepped back to his original position by the window. The one in charge motioned to the door. “Move.”
Reed heard Jesse crying from behind him. Turner looked terrified and furious at the same time, his light brown eyes shifting between Jesse and the soldier holding the rifle inches from his face. He saw Turner’s features harden, his jaw clenched tight. The kid was about to make a stupid, stupid mistake.
Glancing at the name tag sewn into the fabric, Reed intervened. “One question, Sergeant Russell, before we leave?”
“What?”
“Our phones aren’t workin’, and I need to call my sister. She’s the Chief of Police here in our town, and I told her I’d let her know when we left for the school. May I try calling her again before we leave?”
Sgt. Russell shook his head. “If she is, then you’ll get your chance to meet up with her later, after you’ve all been tested. Each of you have your IDs?”
Reed could see Turn
er was about to protest. Reaching out, he put a hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezed. Their eyes met, and Reed conveyed through his gaze the message to be quiet.
“We do, but my niece’s is in her purse on the couch.”
Sgt. Russell motioned toward one of his men closest to the couch. The man picked up Jesse’s purse and tossed it over. Reed caught it and handed it to Jesse.
Grabbing Jesse’s hand, Reed led the way out into the bright morning sun. The chill in the air felt good against his flushed face. The uneasy feelings from earlier turned into a hot, burning ember in his gut. He glanced around the street and noticed the same scene was being played out in the front yards of his neighbors. At least ten Humvees were parked along the curbs of the street.
Jared McKay from across the street was arguing with his armed escorts, refusing to get into the Humvee. The old man was a World War Two vet, pushing hard on ninety’s door. A widower for nearly ten years, Jared's only companion and reason to get up in the morning was his black Labrador, Oscar. Jared pleaded with the armed men at his doorstep. He didn’t want to leave his dog alone. One of the soldiers stepped forward and stuck the tip of the rifle directly under the old man’s chin. Reed heard Jesse whimper behind him, figuring she’d just witnessed the same sight.
“Is that really necessary? He’s an old man—a veteran for God’s sake! One of your own! Maybe if someone explains to him what is going…”
Sgt. Russell interrupted Turner’s outburst. “That’s none of your concern. Mind your own business.”
Though Reed felt the exact same way, he sensed the sergeant and the others were wound tight. He shot a glance over to Turner and shook his head, hoping the boy would keep quiet. Turner’s gaze was defiant and full of anger. The boy’s once pale cheeks were flushed red with anger. Reed saw him take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then return the nod.
When they reached the curb where the Humvee idled, they all froze when a woman screamed.
Tainted Cure (The Rememdium Series Book 1) Page 12
