The Secret: A Thriller

by David Haywood Young

  When I was done, Tim leaned back cross-legged against the wall separating our rooms. “Ash, if I hadn’t seen what I’ve seen, I’d never believe a story like that.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Me either.” I glanced at Rebecca, who’d withdrawn from the conversation a while back. “I don’t buy the ‘terrorist’ angle, though. Too many targets, too widespread. It really sounds, I don’t know, more—”

  “Official,” Tim said. “Like somebody screwed the pooch on a national level. Trying a new drug on prisoners or the military again, maybe, and it got away from them.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at the “again” part, but let it go. Maybe he knew what he was talking about. Or not. But either way, I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Felicia spoke up. “Dad? Can Rachel and I take Abby into the next room? We could play cards or something. All this talk is, just, I don’t know…”

  “Sure, hon,” Tim told her gently. “Maybe you could get some—”

  “No,” I interrupted, a little louder than I’d meant to be. “I need to know what happened with Robbie first, Felicia. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Tim’s face froze. “Hold on, Ash,” he said. “They’re just—”

  “No,” I repeated. I looked at both of his daughters. Felicia was bright red, and Rachel was staring at the floor, doing her best to behave as if nothing were going on.

  Rebecca seemed to wake from a daze. “Ash? What are you talking about?”

  I shrugged. I was more angry than I could remember being…but I didn’t think yelling would help. I needed truth. “On the face of it, Robbie went out on his own for reasons unknown,” I said. “Which is—well, it’s bullshit. You kids don’t do anything without talking about it. Plus he’s been whispering with Rachel ever since this started.”

  I could see Tim wanted to object. But he didn’t.

  Rebecca’s face darkened, then went white. “Rachel,” she asked quietly, “where did Robbie go?”

  “We don’t know!” Felicia shouted. “Don’t yell at us, we’re not the ones who didn’t—”

  Moving faster than I’d have believed she could, Rebecca grabbed Felicia by the shirt and slammed her into the wall. Felicia’s head hit the concrete with a thunk, and she staggered.

  “Damnit, Rebecca!” Tim shouted. “Leave my kid alone!”

  I walked to Rebecca and put my hands on her shoulders. Slowly, she turned her head to meet my eyes.

  “Rachel,” I said, and looked for the least accusing way to put it. “Robbie left to look for your mom. Didn’t he?”

  Tim, holding Felicia’s shoulders and looking anxiously into her eyes, froze. “Oh my God,” he said. “Rachel? Did you…”

  Rachel snarled. “She’s my mom! Somebody had to care!”

  Rebecca lunged toward her, but I jumped between them. “Rebecca! Calm down!” I yelled. “Rachel—where was he going to look?”

  She shook her head and set her jaw, then looked away.

  “I don’t have the time for a teenage funk, Rachel,” I said. “Tell me right now, or—”

  Tim raised a hand. “I think—”

  Rebecca spun and punched him in the gut. Tim collapsed to the floor. “TALK!” she shouted at Rachel.

  “Daddy?” Felicia asked, still looking dazed but starting to focus on her father. “Are you…”

  Tim vomited on the floor.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Everybody calm down! We just need to know what they talked—”

  Rebecca put her hand over my mouth, and reached down to Tim. He looked at her hand for a moment, then nodded and took it.

  “Tim,” she said after helping him to his feet, “I think you should wait outside. All of you, actually. I need to talk to Rachel.”

  Tim stepped between them. “No way in hell,” he told her.

  Rebecca looked at him for a moment, then shook her head slightly. She turned away from him and pushed the door open. “You three don’t belong here. There’s a family trust, and you’re not on the list. So this is our land. Get out.”

  I stared at my wife, then opened my mouth. “Beck—”

  But she snarled at me. And my anger bled away—replaced by fear. Was she contaminated with…whatever it was…after all? Were all of us?

  Tim stared into her face too. “Girls,” he said slowly, “let’s all go outside for a while. Just to talk.”

  “Let them, Beck,” I said, and stood between her and the children. “Let them out. We’ll deal with this outside.”

  She held my eyes as the Sullivans filed out—first Felicia, staggering a little but moving under her own power, then Rachel, then Tim.

  I sighed. “Okay, Beck. Let’s try to remember we need to work—”

  She raised a hand. “Abigail? Stay in here, okay? We’ll be right back.”

  Abby had been cowering in a corner. Terrified, her face wet from eyes and nose, she fastened eyes twice their normal diameter on her mother and nodded.

  I wanted to comfort my daughter…but I didn’t trust Rebecca with the Sullivans. I did my best to give Abby a reassuring smile and went outside. Rebecca followed.

  Tim, watching her carefully, stood between my wife and his daughters.

  “Please, everybody,” I said, noticing that I was the only one armed and not being sure how to feel about that—this wasn’t exactly a safe place, but emotions were way high. “Let’s all try to be cal—”

  “Girls?” Rebecca asked them. “Will you watch this please?”

  Before they could answer, she grabbed Tim’s left hand with her right, spun him to face them, and hit the back of his elbow with her left. I felt the crackling pop of broken bone as much as I heard it. The sleeve of his khaki shirt turned black with blood. Gasping, Tim started to fall to his knees, then caught himself. “Girls! Run!” he shouted, and he rushed toward Rebecca.

  She snarled, and I fired the .45 into the air. “Tim!” I said urgently as my wife turned to face me. “Go!”

  He froze, eyes wide—then nodded, spun as best he could, and followed his daughters.

  Rebecca gave the gun an approving look. “We don’t need them here anyway,” she told me calmly. “They weren’t family. And our supplies will last longer.”

  * * *

  Later that night I was…exhausted. Scared. Afraid I was losing my wife, as well as my son.

  Rebecca seemed almost normal. Serene, even.

  My brain careened between my ears—I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d done to Felicia and Tim. She was gentle with Abby, though, and spoke to me as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I wondered: would she be like this from now on? Should I try to get Abigail away from her, in case she got worse? And…Abigail seemed okay, and I felt okay, but since Rebecca also thought everything was fine—how strongly was my judgment already affected?

  We bedded down together in the smaller room, farther from the door. Closer to the windows. I didn’t feel especially safe either way.

  Later that night I heard helicopters flying overhead. I wanted to hope they meant some sort of a rescue, of a cure…but then I heard automatic weapons. And screeching.

  Hunting, I guessed, and decided not to travel at night if I could help it. Whoever was in the choppers probably had night-vision scopes, and body heat would stand out.

  I’d have to move around during daytime before long, though. We only had enough food for a few days. And we didn’t have much water, contaminated or otherwise, at all.

  God, I hoped the Sullivans were somewhere safe. Tim’s arm had been bleeding so badly. He was a doctor, and that had to help, but still.

  I had no idea where to look for Robbie. Maybe Rachel or Felicia could have told me something, if…if. No chance to ask now, obviously.

  In the morning Rebecca still seemed to think everything was fine.

  Until she’d fixed a breakfast of eggs and instant rice, and went to wake up Abigail.

  But couldn’t.

  Chapter Eight

  Abby was breathi
ng. Her pulse was normal. No fever either, as far as I could tell. She just…wouldn’t wake up.

  I wasn’t sure what else to check. I tried propping her eyelids open and pointing a flashlight…sure enough, her pupils contracted. But what did that mean?

  “Leave her alone, Ash,” Rebecca said. “She probably just needs her sleep.”

  I eyed my wife. Ten minutes ago she’d been frantic. Now everything was fine again?

  The best plan I could come up with was to take a couple of the guns we’d stockpiled, and some food, to the Sullivans’ house. Even if they weren’t staying there, I figured Tim would be coming back to see if there was any sign of Susie.

  Also I wanted to check out Great-Granddad’s well, which wasn’t far from the basement. Years ago the manual pump had worked. If it was still with us, I’d use it. Otherwise I’d see if I could find another way to get water. We’d need it.

  My son was gone. My wife was…affected. By something. And Abigail? I remembered Tim telling me about comatose patients from the prison.

  I needed Tim, or at least his medical advice, right away. I hadn’t had the chance to ask him about radiation either.

  I loaded up with guns and supplies. “Rebecca? I’m going out for a bit. Listen…if you see the Sullivans…”

  She looked at me blankly. “They don’t belong here. Why would they come back?”

  I sighed. “Right. But if they do, I have questions for Tim. About Abigail. Even if he doesn’t belong here, he’s still a doctor.”

  She had turned away, and was combing Abby’s hair with her fingers.

  “Rebecca?”

  She flipped a hand at me without turning around. “Got it, hon.”

  I stood there staring. Was it safe to leave Abby with her? So far Rebecca had been protective, but I had no idea what was coming next. “Beck? Try to give her some water later, okay?”

  She turned her head and grinned at me. “Good idea, babe.”

  After a moment I shoved the door open and left them there.

  * * *

  No sign of the Sullivans at their house, and mine was as I’d left it.

  I left a note to Tim on my kitchen counter, telling him Abby was very sick and I needed his help. I wrote another to Susie, just in case, telling her Tim would be checking here periodically.

  I left copies of the notes in the Sullivans’ living room, along with a shotgun and a .45—though I wasn’t actually sure how many guns Tim owned and he might have had more stashed somewhere in the house.

  Back in the woods, I sat on a rock to think. What was next?

  Tim’s house hadn’t had an encyclopedia set either. I’d checked thoroughly to see if he’d had a version on CD but didn’t find one. I’d hoped he would have medical books, at least. But they must have been in his office downtown.

  Somewhere, somehow, I needed to find out what I should do for my daughter.

  Options, options…I could go downtown. Either Tim’s office or the city library might help.

  Or I could go check on Rose. She might have an encyclopedia set. Or, come to think of it, she might know somebody in town who could help me. None of my relatives or their friends, as far as I knew, had gone into medicine. For our crowd it was generally politics or farming or both. But…maybe. And I wanted to see how Rose was doing anyway.

  I stood, then sat back down slowly. What if I found somebody who could help, brought them back to the basement, and Rebecca attacked?

  What if something happened to me? Would Rebecca manage to find food or water? For that matter, by this point did she even knew what they were?

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them. I would check on Rose. Then, if I needed to, I would take my daughter away from my wife.

  Oh, and find more food, and get water that might or might not be safe, and try not to get killed.

  I wasn’t sure any of this made sense. But the only other thing I could think of was to go back to the basement and wait to see what happened next. Which was better than getting killed out here. But just barely.

  * * *

  Helicopters overhead. They looked military. I ducked behind a house, not wanting to find out what they’d do if they saw me out walking around.

  It was…strange, to see how quickly the town had deteriorated. Lawns hadn’t yet grown completely out of control, houses hadn’t fallen down—it had only been a couple of days—but the cumulative effect of universal neglect was powerful. Of course crashed vehicles, strange property damage probably caused by guys with fangs, broken windows, and bullet holes added to the effect.

  The helicopters moved off to the north. I came out into the street…and smelled smoke. Not just a campfire or a barbecue. Whatever was burning included some plastic. Maybe a house, or a bunch of houses.

  I laughed a little. Well, why not? It fit the whole post-apocalyptic scene, didn’t it? Next thing I’d see would be zombies.

  Oh wait. The teenagers sort of qualified, didn’t they?

  You know…no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t see any humor in it.

  * * *

  Rose’s house was empty. My truck was gone, and so was the computer I’d left behind. No note.

  And no encyclopedia or medical books either.

  * * *

  I heard gunfire—lots of gunfire—and screaming in front of me. I was on Old Center, heading for downtown. Whatever it was, it was close. Maybe three or four blocks away. Probably right on the town square.

  I ducked back behind a house, thought about it for a moment, and crept forward to peek around a corner. I wanted to know what was going on.

  Nothing to see…from there. After a while, I decided to get a little closer to the noise. Carefully.

  As I got close, I slowed down even more. The screaming and gunfire had died down a little. Maybe what I really ought to do was go back to the basement for now, and come back to check out the damage tomorrow?

  Yeah, maybe.

  From Old Center I couldn’t quite see the town square. It still sounded like a war zone in there. I decided to move in another block or so and see if I could get a glimpse. Then figure out what to do next.

  Helicopters again, from the north, coming toward me—or more likely headed toward the ruckus.

  Was this the National Guard? What were they doing? I had a vision of affected teenagers dancing toward military machine guns, and nearly bent double with pain in my stomach. I vomited on the street, and didn’t want to get up.

  Where was my son right now?

  Something hit my left leg. Irritated, I shook it but didn’t look down. A rock, maybe. Didn’t matter. I dragged myself upright and turned to go back to the woods but heard something behind me—I turned to look—two troop transport vehicles were speeding away from the square. Straight toward where I stood, in the middle of the street for some reason.

  I laughed. Why not? What else was going to happen? Everything I could see had turned sort of bright and shiny in the middle, and dark around the edges. The soldiers came, and I didn’t bother to hide or even get out of the way. Maybe they would shoot me. Maybe they would run over me. Maybe they would help me.

  Right then, right there, I had no idea what to do. I decided I should find a spot for a nap pretty soon though. I should rest, for later. My family needed me to be alert.

  The trucks raced by, each missing me by a foot or so. I waved, and a couple of soldiers stared. Then a fanged creature bounded across the street and ripped one of them out of the vehicle.

  More screaming. More shooting. The fanged guy got away, and the soldier he’d grabbed died. It was messy. Sort of pretty though, the way the blood arced.

  I stood watching. Then I sat down.

  That was when the helicopters napalmed downtown Henge.

  * * *

  Heat and sound, at incredible levels, even blocks away. My skull roared with it. I didn’t know if I still had a body below the neck.

  Had that just now happened? Or was it hours ago? I couldn’t tell. Suddenly realizin
g I was on my feet again, I staggered back toward Old Center, back toward the woods and what was left of my family.

  Robbie? Were you in town? Did you die today?

  I needed to clear my head. Needed to keep moving.

  But somebody grabbed me from behind and tossed me into a pickup bed. There were other people in it. They cushioned my fall. They looked pretty dead. That seemed fair.

  I closed my eyes.

  * * *

  I woke up in a dark place. Some sort of room, with bodies lying on the floor. Barely enough light to see at all. I heard whimpering. Somebody was cursing steadily. I smelled shit, and unwashed bodies, and…hot dogs? Was somebody cooking?

  I climbed onto my feet, and wobbled there. My head hurt where I’d banged it on the truck. My left shoulder didn’t feel right. And…ow.

  There was a bandage on my left thigh.

  I took a practice step, testing the leg. It worked. But I felt dizzy.

  A door opened and somebody flicked a flashlight around the room, settling the beam on my face.

  “You’re awake,” a familiar voice said.

  I raised a hand to shield my eyes. “Tim? Is that you?”

  “Yeah. Come on, I need to show you something.”

  * * *

  I finally figured it out when I followed Tim out into a hallway—we were in Henge High. I’d been sleeping on the cafeteria floor. “Guess we ended up here after all,” I said. “Tim? Have you seen Robbie? Or Susie?”

  He glanced back at me, patting the air with his good hand…I could see his left arm was in a sling. “Shh.”

  I frowned, but followed. My leg was starting to throb…it hurt, a bit. Mostly it felt strange, as if I’d borrowed somebody else’s body parts and they didn’t quite fit. Hey, that was kind of a fun game. I practiced teaching my new leg to walk. It wasn’t very good at it. Stupid leg. I peered down at the floor. Was that really still my left foot at the end of my leg? Or was the shoe just glued on?