The Rotting Souls Series (Book 1): Charon's Blight [Day One]

by Ray, Timothy A.

  Chapter 2

  Unanswered Text

  Linda

  Sacramento, CA

  Ben: It’s a wipe

  She looked down at her phone in frustration. She had never wanted to be involved in her wife’s Doomsday Cult and had forgotten that she was on their mass text list. She’d spent years humoring her wife’s obsession, and had only accepted the phone because it was one less bill they would have to pay. She had never intended to actually respond if they called.

  All this end of the world crap was crazy.

  She was a school teacher and considered herself grounded in reality, unlike those fools her wife palled around with. The world was not going to end until the sun cooled and went supernova. In other words, not for a very long time. Mankind might cease to exist by then, but the world would still be there; it could survive anything they threw at it. There had been five extinction level events, that they knew of, and still the planet turned regardless.

  She glanced at her phone and cursed; they were having another one of their damned drills. That meant her wife would be racing over to pick her up with the intent of dragging her out of town on another fruitless fantasy ride.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  Her fingers quickly typed out a message telling her wife that she was too busy, and that if she wanted to go alone, she’d see her after the drill was done. Her patience was running thin and there was just too much going on this week. She had exams to grade and counseling sessions scheduled. There was no possible way that she could just drop everything and run off.

  It just wasn’t happening.

  She had humored them long enough. It was her fault that she let it on this long and she shook her head with frustration, intending to put a stop to it once her wife got back from her trip. She clicked the power button and made a mental decision that this was the line in the sand; she would go no further. She tossed it on the desk and forced herself to look away as even more arrived, vibrating the phone across the surface of her desk.

  Sitting back in her chair, she looked at the students bending over their desks, their pencils writing furiously. Her hair was up in a bun, her wire-framed glasses resting on the tip of her nose, as her blue eyes swept the classroom around her. Her white blouse lifted a bit as the cooler blew cold hair upon her chest, cooling the sweat that had formed along the edge of her under-wire. Her knee-length black skirt had ridden up one of her slender thighs, and she pulled at it absent-mindedly back into place.

  Her eyes caught that someone was watching her and she glanced in that direction. A young boy named Randy had stopped working on his test and had his eyes glued on her cleavage. It would have been flattering if she found that kind of attention attractive, instead of only adding to her frustration. The frown upon her face met his gaze and he blushed; looking away.

  “Eyes on your test Mr. Rattigon,” she told him firmly, and some of the other students looked up at the sound of her voice. She swept her gaze across the room and they each hurriedly went back to writing.

  She could tolerate a harmless crush, but she didn’t have to encourage it. If it continued, it would have to be addressed with either the principal in attendance or the boy’s parents. But for now, he was a teenager with raging hormones and his ill-conceived fantasies were easily dismissed.

  Her phone was vibrating again, reminding her of the real reason for her hackles to be up. Grinding her teeth, she thought back over all that had transpired to bring her to this point. If she hadn’t foolishly bought that damned World of Warcraft game for her wife’s birthday, her marriage would be healthier and she wouldn’t be having a migraine threatening to end her day in agony.

  Jackie had always loved those types of games, having played Everquest for years before they had even met. She had found it cute at first, it was kind of sexy in a nerdy kind of way, but after years of being together she was forced to wonder if her wife would ever grow up.

  Her error had been choosing to sit in a chair by her wife’s side and watching her play. It had drawn her in against her will. Jackie had insisted that she get a copy, seeing that she had so much advice and suggestions all the time, so was clearly interested in playing the game herself. Reluctantly, she had given in, not realizing just how involved she’d end up getting with it. Though she stayed detached from most of the social aspects, it did provide her a nice distraction from the everyday struggles in her life.

  They had played on adjacent computer desks and she chose to see it as just another way they got to spend time together. Though, it didn’t take her time to realize the lack of intimacy involved, even with them sitting side by side for hours at a time. That was a part of their marriage that had been lacking and she mourned the time they lost playing that stupid game.

  Their friends began to distance themselves and they went out less and less. That she had lost years of her life, their marriage, time that she could never get back, seriously damaged her feelings towards her wife. She still loved her, but the marriage had suffered and she could no longer fool herself into believing otherwise.

  It had been terribly lonely for her. While her wife made friends with those she raided with, she hadn’t been able to feel that same connection. She wanted people she could go hang out with, drink at a bar with, not talk to over a microphone while staring at a cartoonish representation of them.

  Who got into shit like that?

  Even after they had met those people at the compounds in Arizona, she hadn’t felt like she truly belonged. She had spent most of the time grading tests and preparing to go back to work; refusing to get involved in any of their survival games; it was a dreadful waste of time. The only good thing that came of those trips was the intimate time with her wife in the car and the amount of reading she got caught up on during the days she spent alone in their room.

  Her anger rose once more as the phone began vibrating again. Randy glanced at her with a questioning look, but she kept her face passive; her mouth set. He quickly returned to his test before she could say anything and she clicked the button on the phone to stop it from going off. She considered just turning the fucking thing off.

  A scream echoed down the hallway outside and every head in the room jerked up in response; pencils dropping. The horrible wail continued as she drove herself to her feet, intent on finding out exactly what was going on and put a stop to it.

  She strode around the front of the desk and headed for the classroom door. “All of you stay at your desks while I step outside. You have fifteen minutes,” she told them. She saw from their anxious looks that it was a waste of breath. Half of them had already risen to their feet, and were preparing to follow her out the door. She sighed as she threw it open; shaking her head with disdain. Striding through it quickly, she slammed it behind her as if to illustrate to her students that they were to stay within. Taking another deep breath to calm herself, she turned in the direction of the screaming teenager.

  The young girl was standing over the body of their custodian, her books scattered across the floor. Her mouth was open full tilt and she let go of yet another agonizing wail. Greg was an aging man that had worked for the school district for more than twenty years and had shockingly white hair that contrasted violently with his tattered and filthy olive overalls. A mop bucket lay on the floor, the mop lying askew and forgotten at the elderly janitor’s side. He was struggling to breathe, his hands clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to get air. The young seventh grader stood screaming above him, unable to control herself as urine rushed down her legs.

  She darted forward, her students forgotten as they opened the door and peered out of the room behind her. Other classroom doors were opening as well, but none of that registered; the whole world had disappeared with the exception of that screaming girl and the dying man at her feet. Stepping over the mop, she grabbed the little girl and slapped her. The scream cut off immediately and the teenager stood there stunned, mouth hanging open, a hand reaching up to rub her cheek where she’d been hit. Lin
da risked a glance at her dying coworker and saw the frightened eyes peering back.

  Time was slipping away and his life was nearing its end.

  She reached out with her right hand and tilted the girl’s head up until their eyes met. “Call 911,” she commanded and the girl nodded, her fragile and shaking hands fumbling in her pockets for her cellphone.

  She let go of the girl and dropped to her knees; trying to frantically think of what to do. She tenderly reached beneath his neck and lifted, tilting his head back with her other hand in an attempt to clear his airway. He gave a short gasp, but that was the limit of what her efforts had accomplished. Had a lung collapsed? Was there something lodged in his throat? She didn’t have a medical degree; she was a math teacher for fucks sakes. She had taken her mandatory CPR classes, but the recent ones had cautioned against the exchanging of bodily fluids with mouth to mouth contact. She had been told that the choice was hers; that if she wasn’t comfortable with the risks, she would not be held accountable for not doing it.

  Still, she had to do something.

  Her hands moved to his chest in order to start compressions; she had to keep his heart pumping. She met resistance and realized that his hand had reached out to take hers. His grip was strong, and no matter how hard she tried to pull free, he wouldn’t let go.

  His breathing had started to slow and she felt a tear form on the edge of her eye, then run down her cheek and off her chin. People were surrounding them now, talking in hushed tones, and none of them were helping her! They were keeping a respectful distance; leaving the two of them alone in the circle of onlookers, as if the man’s fate had already been decided.

  She slapped the dying man on the cheek as his eyes broke from hers. “Don’t you even think about giving up. Just hold on, help is on the way.” She stole a look at the young girl she had asked to call 911 and was heartened to see her speaking rapidly with an operator, nodding in return. She glanced back down on the dying man and noticed that most of the color had begun to fade from his face. His body was beginning to shake as if realizing its end was near. His eyes were still looking in her direction but they no longer saw her; he was gone. His grip finally loosened and her tears flowed anew.

  A sob wrenched from her chest as grief encompassed her. Overcome with misery, she lowered his hand to the floor and put her hands over her face. She had never seen anyone die before; never been there when the life had just gone out of them. She had been to funerals, but the people lying in those coffins had been empty shells that only vaguely resembled those that had passed. It had been easy to believe that the person she knew was gone.

  This was entirely different.

  She had seen the fear, had felt it when his life had slipped away. Others were rushing forward now that it was over and she hated them for leaving her there exposed and alone for so long. A set of hands gripped her shoulders but she shook them off and sobbed harder.

  The body spasmed violently and Greg’s dead hand flopped onto her skirt, making her scream at the sudden contact. There was a foul stench in the air as his bodily fluids began to seep free and she could hear a raspy breath where there shouldn’t have been one.

  “He’s not dead!” one of the kids screamed, a cellphone in his hands, recording.

  How disrespectful! her mind tried to respond, but she found herself utterly speechless. Her eyes had fallen on her dead coworker; fixated on the corpse jerking at her knees. Her hands had slid from her face and were beginning to reach for him when his head jerked; eyes fixing on her once more. They were the eyes of the dead and the irises moved with the change of lighting.

  Her soul ripped from her as she screamed in terror.

  Greg surged forward faster than she could react, cold hands gripping her as she vainly tried to pull away. The person that had been trying to help her up had disappeared and she was once again alone in this horror show that had become her life. She had fallen on her knees and her skirt was preventing her from bringing her legs around to push backward; the angle allowed the moaning man to draw her closer. Screams erupted around her as she tried to work her legs free, twisting her wrist in an attempt to break the grip he had on her. She hadn’t made any progress and her body tilted in the opposite direction; towards the rabid man drooling below.

  Randy strove into view and kicked the custodian, trying to distract him long enough for her to break free. Greg ignored it and her eyes widened as his teeth surged forward with a sudden jerk of his head. Pain flared from her left breast as her blouse gave way under the pressure of the dead man’s teeth. His mouth clamped down harder than anything she had ever felt in her life and her head filled with agony as she felt the skin begin to tear away. Her mind started to darken, wanting to pass out from the pain, but she fought against it.

  She had to get away! He was actually eating her!

  His head jerked to the side and she felt her skin tear loose, his teeth working on chewing her flesh right before her eyes. There was a loud gulp and he surged forward once more. Her voice reached a higher octave as she lunged backwards away from the searching teeth, trying to draw anyone forward to help get this monster off of her.

  Those around her had taken a few steps back in fear and indecision. Randy stood rooted in place, apparently unable to move. Even a boy who had a crush on her did nothing, as she fell backward onto the floor, knees popping and fresh pain screaming up her legs. Greg was fast upon her, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Bile escaped her throat as she saw a portion of her left nipple caught in one of his back molars.

  “Somebody get this fucking thing off of me!” she screamed, but no one moved.

  The horror of what was happening was apparent on their faces and they seemed paralyzed by it; almost like it was a nightmare and they were sure that at any moment they would wake up. There was blood gushing from her chest wound and her head was beginning to feel lighter. She could faintly hear the sounds of escaping feet and she was probably imagining the quick patter of approaching ones.

  “Help me!” she screamed. Then there was pressure on her chest and fresh pain in her throat as her plea was suddenly cut off. She felt warm liquid stream from her neck and her breathing ceased; her airway was blocked. Her lungs yanked inward, trying to draw in air, but to no avail. Blood filled her stomach. She felt like throwing it up but it had nowhere to go. Her vision had begun to fade and the feeling was starting to leave her body. She barely felt it as teeth clamped down on her neck and pulled at her, jerking her neck upward just as she had done to Greg only minutes before.

  Something must have torn free because her neck suddenly dropped against the blood covered tiles. She laid there, her head turned away from the monster ripping her apart; searching for help. Randy’s eyes met hers once more and then he bent over; throwing up on his shoes. He wiped a hand across his mouth, gave her one last frightened glance, then fled; abandoning her to her fate.

  She could hear people yelling, pushing towards her, but she no longer cared. Someone tried pulling the custodian off of her, but it was too late. Her lungs were still trying to pull in air as she struggled to take one last breath. Her body was slowly shutting down, her mind not far behind it. Death was coming and she wondered where the white light was or the loving people who were supposed to guide her on.

  It had all been bullshit! There was nothing to go to, she was just going to wink out forever. She wasn’t ready yet! Fear surged through her. What the hell? She thought as her life slipped away.

  Then she was gone.

  A friend and fellow teacher was suddenly there and had begun performing CPR. She had been right about the mouth to mouth, because as the man’s lips clamped down on hers, she spasmed and tore them off, chewing them like a large piece of gum. Then she reached up for more.

  In the ensuing panic, no one went back into her classroom to look at the phone vibrating across her desk—no one cared. They had more pressing matters to attend too. The phone continued its trajectory across the flat surface, where it would eventually
fall into a trashcan beside the long desk; forever forgotten. The screen lit up once more and a newer text flashed across the screen.

  Ben: you need to get the fuck out of there, right now!

  Jackie: I’m on my way to pick you up

  Jackie: This is serious. It’s not a drill. I’m just around the corner. Be ready.

  Ironically, she did go out to greet her wife when she got to the school; as she had sworn not to do. Their last embrace left Jackie lying on the ground, her insides steaming on the concrete below. The stunned woman’s agony was choked off as her wife gave her one final kiss, tearing half her face off with a strong wrench of her neck. As Jackie lay there dying on the school’s front steps, she watched in horror as Linda continued on without her, leaving her to die alone.

  A flurry of screams had drawn Linda’s attention. As she worked the torn piece of flesh into her mouth, she began to shamble towards a bus of screaming kids. They had been waiting on a driver to get them out of there and a few tried to bolt out the emergency exit when she stumbled up the steps. The horrid display of blood that covered her face almost looked like a smile; school was still in session and Linda had one final lesson to teach.

  Chapter 3

  Stash or Dash

  Casey

  Ft. Worth, TX

  He had been on the move since the first text had come in. He had changed his clothes quickly, put on his survival gear, and grabbed his Bug Out Bag from the closet. After retrieving the box of shells from the top shelf, he had taken the rifle from its stand and promptly loaded his weapon. He slung it over his shoulder and grabbed his axe. He headed for the front door but paused in the doorway, wondering if he had time to grab a few more things before leaving. Seconds counted in these situations and he wasn’t sure if he had time.

  “Fuck it,” he grunted and ran back in after his stash. He had a feeling his supplier would be out of business—well, forever.