The breeze was light, but it moved the island’s dense foliage enough to give some ambience. Insect calls added another layer, but there was something missing.
Dean said, “Birds are quiet.”
Nikki asked, “Are they noisy here?”
Dean said, “Day and night. You get used to it. Sounds strange without them.”
Jon took a half step back toward the boat, pulling Nikki with him, but saying nothing. She turned and looked at him with concern. They kept their eyes locked like that for several seconds until he blew out a breath, saying, “Smell that? Something’s dead.” As his weathered features grew ashen, Jon couldn’t help keeping a frown from crossing his lips. Nikki, her own face turning pale, swallowed the lump growing in her throat and sniffed the air.
Dean took a deep breath, noted the smell as well, and groaned inwardly. His hand absently reached for his son, who obliviously began walking toward the broken road that serviced the pier.
Billy said, “I can’t wait to see Brandy.”
Dean took a few tentative steps behind the boy and glanced at the beach on the far side of the pier to his right. There was a small but seaworthy boat pulled up on the sand, a combination of paddles and homemade oars dumped inside. There were two sets of large footprints leading away up the beach. They were human-like, yet with the separation and indentation of a gait built on hocked knees. At the edge of the road, a dismembered and mostly consumed corpse lay on a mat of bird-of-paradise leaves. It took Dean a second to recognize the head as one of the wild pigs that roamed the island.
Billy continued down the pier, saying, “Where is everyone?” As he took in a breath and cupped his hands on either side of his mouth to yell Brandy, Dean slapped his hand over his son’s lips and pulled the boy back. Billy briefly fought until he also saw the boat on the beach, the footprints in the sand — Nikki and Jon saw it all too.
Without another word, the four humans scrambled back onto the sailboat. Dean went to hoist the main as Jon grabbed the wheel.
Nikki felt hot tears streaming down her face as she cast off the stern line and boarded, putting her hand on Jon’s. Without the continuous bilge pumping, the boat was already sitting dangerously low in the water.
Dean mumbled to himself, “Gotta get pumping.”
Nikki felt the edge of the probing that was the signature of a puck invading the mind. She whispered to Jon against hope, “We’re not getting away this time, are we, baby?”
He huffed out a breath over trembling lips and shook his head. “I don’t think anybody’s getting away from this.”
Billy had released the springer and hopped forward for the bow line. Then the familiar buzz filled all their minds…wandering whispers, an invasion of self, a probing and latching onto their central nervous systems. Against his will, Billy stopped what he was doing and stood straight.
Dean cleated the main halyard. The tattered sail snapped loudly in the breeze, filling with wind. With everything he had left, he stepped forward to his son, pulling him into a hug.
Billy struggled to move his own arms, and managed to hug his father back, burying his face in the sea captain/warrior’s broad chest. “Oh, Daddy.”
Jon managed to turn the wheel, aiming the boat for open water. If the course held, in minutes it would put a scrub-coated hill between the boat and the remains of the resort. Nikki felt his hand squeeze down hard on hers — all he could muster. The look in his eyes was full of sorrow, but also solace…they had come full circle; they had their love. It would have to be enough.
She was able to force a slight nod of agreement, keeping her eyes locked on his. With tremendous effort, she said, “I love…you…darling…man.”
His own grimacing lips turned white as they moved into a slit of a smile. “I love—“
She caught sight of movement at the top of the other small hill that overlooked the harbor. Two huge male Chosen stepped out of what had been at one time a thriving restaurant. The apex creatures were dark skinned with heavily matted dreadlocks. They flashed huge sets of razor sharp teeth.
COME
COME
COME
A nation divided against itself cannot stand.
- Sam Huston (inspired by the original - J.C.)
Dear Reader,
So here we are, the end of a trilogy five years in the making. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in this universe; that I’ve gotten your blood pumping, your head thinking, your fear gage up a notch or ten. I can’t definitively say this is the end. I may still get an itch to dabble in this world. The events at the start of the FNDz outbreak occasionally call to me. However, for the time being, I’m putting Of Sudden Origin to bed. I hope you feel inspired to read my other works. My mission, as always, is to explore the human animal while keeping you on the edge of your seat.
If you had fun, please find the time to leave a review. Good honest reviews are the gateway for most readers as they choose their next book — but take care with the spoilers ;) Visit my website cchaseharwood.com to stay updated on my efforts, give me a shout or sign up for my mailing list. Tweet me @cchaseharwood. Like my Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/cchaseharwood Thank you to my B Readers. You know who you are. Your thoughts and advice are invaluable.
Happy Reading,
C. Chase — October 2017
About The Author
C. Chase Harwood made a career in Hollywood, decorating sets for film and television before turning his passion for story telling into clicks on a keyboard. While scaling the walls of the screenwriting world, he chose to experiment with prose and found a fondness for Scifi-action-adventure. Within that framework he gets to explore the countless ways that humans interact while under duress. "Life is all the more lived when the consequences are high. When told as a tale it can be quite a page turner," says Harwood. He lives in Los Angeles with his costume designer wife and young boy girl twins.
A House Divided: Book 3 of The Of Sudden Origin Saga Page 31
