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

by Ray, Timothy A.

  He was too scared to say shit in response, keeping his eyes ahead and ignoring the bikers the best he could. Well, they’d need some kind of divine protection if they were heading into Roswell.

  Hell, he could use some too.

  As if answering his prayer for a guardian angel, his phone went off.

  Ben: Roswell being overrun but Socorro looks clear and empty

  Ben: How does a stoner like you get so lucky?

  “I don’t know,” he responded, laughing as he read it. He hadn’t done anything to earn it; not the way he lived. Someone did seem to be watching over him, but unlike the masses of people that were probably streaming into churches, he knew that it wasn’t the Lord looking out for him. Oh no, it was a twenty-year-old hacker sitting in front of a computer munching a hot pocket.

  He sighed. Today, he’d take the hacker over any kind of divine intervention. The way the world was going to shit, he wouldn’t trust any sort of help from above.

  Then his radio came to life and someone finally started talking.

  Chapter 10

  Starbucks

  Rosilynn

  Las Vegas, NV

  “Ros, honey, you need to wake up,” a voice said softly in the background of her dreams.

  She was in bed with her husband, their bodies intertwined. They were no longer two separate beings but one, enjoined together forever. Pleasure coursed through her and she groaned uncontrollably.

  The voice called to her again but she didn’t want to give this up just yet. A phone buzzed and she broke from kissing her husband to look at her nightstand. Granny Zombie was planted there, her blood pooled beneath severed waist. As she began to scream, the wretched creature lunged forward and tore into her.

  She burst from her nightmare screaming and felt a hand clamp down on her mouth, cutting off her air supply. She struggled under the weight of the attack; but the force of the grip was too strong. She beat at the hands with her fist, but it wasn’t enough to break herself free. She tried to scream again but without any air it was a futile exercise. Her head was becoming light-headed, her limbs to tingle; she was close to passing out.

  “Listen to me,” a harsh voice breathed in her ear. “It’s just me. You have to stop screaming or we’re going to die. Do you understand?” the familiar voice in the dark asked her.

  She nodded. Her lungs were on fire and she knew she had to comply.

  “Okay, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. Please Rosilynn, don’t scream.” The hand was gone and air flooded her lungs. It caused her back to lift to get as much in as possible and her breathing became rapid and uncontrollable.

  Her eyes were open, she was sure of it; but she couldn’t see a damn thing. Where the hell was she? An image of that old lady tearing into her fluttered through her mind again. Her body began to retract itself despite the ache in her joints and the soreness of her muscles.

  Her head ached and she tentatively reached out with her gloved hand, searching for whoever had been strangling her. “What the fuck is going on? Who are you?”

  A hand touched her tenderly, then he was there, his body wrapped around her, enveloping her. She knew from the way she was being held that it was her husband trying to give her comfort. She was a strong independent woman who liked to work out in the gym by her husband’s side. She liked to take runs in the morning to keep in shape; to challenge him to do something she couldn’t do. But in this moment of vulnerability, she let herself go; letting him be the strong one for once.

  She gave herself over and she felt the tears crushing their way out of her. Things had started out so well today, she mourned.

  “Matthew?” she asked softly as he stroked her hair soothingly. Her voice came out in a croak. She tried to clear it, but it felt dry and raw. She needed something to drink. “Why can’t I see anything?” she gasped. She felt something wet press against her mouth. She parted her lips and took a couple of sips, letting it trickle down her parched throat. The coldness of it stung and she nearly choked in response. Coughing, she felt his hand leave her shoulder and she worried that he’d clamp it over her mouth again. She jerked her head uncontrollably to the side; a reflex to the previous smothering she had just experienced.

  He shushed her instead and his hand started rubbing her arm. “I don’t know how hard you hit your head or how much you remember,” he said softly, trying his best to calm her down. “When we came in here, the streets were overrun, and I don’t know how many more of those things are still out there. Any noise might draw their attention. We have to stay silent. Our lives depend on it.”

  The water was tipped towards her mouth and she did her best to not get choked up this time. Her throat was still raw. It tasted like she had inhaled an entire pack of cigarettes with one breath. Her clinical mind was trying to function but her head was still heavy; her ability to reason impaired.

  Concussion, her mind whispered.

  She tried to think back and a flood of memories gripped her, making her clench together in a ball between his arms. Her head flew back and she nearly screamed. She flung her right arm into her own mouth, biting down on the rubbery surface of her suit.

  The pressure.

  Oh my God, her mind cried and her hands frantically started to run up and down her body, searching for tears in the suit. She whimpered with fear, her fingers running through every crevice, covering every inch. The panic had completely eclipsed her mind and controlled her every movement.

  To his credit, her husband did not interfere.

  She began to relax as her fingers found nothing bitten or torn.

  “You are fine, I checked myself,” he soothed.

  She was taking another gulp of water, this time with the bottle in her own hand to control the short flow of it. “Then why let me go through that?” she asked softly, her mind still trying to make sense of things.

  “You wouldn’t have believed me until you checked yourself,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  Something banged in the distance and Matt cut off whatever he was going to say next; his body growing tense. When nothing further happened, his body relaxed and his hand continued to stroke her, having fallen to her back now.

  “There was an explosion. The blast threw you away from me. By the time I got back on my feet and found you, one of those things was clawing its way up your waist, trying to get through your suit.” She shivered with the memory and once again saw that old lady lunging. “I got it off you, but you were unconscious. We couldn’t stay on the street, those things were everywhere. So, I found a place to hole up until you were well enough to travel.”

  “How long?” she asked, some of the strength returning to her voice.

  She could feel him shrug. “Hard to tell time in the dark like this,” he explained. “It’s been a couple of hours at least.”

  “It’s not night yet, is it?” she asked. “I know I’m not blind, I can see vague shapes, but it’s pitch dark in here.”

  “We’re in a storeroom,” he answered. “It has a small window on the door, but I covered it up and turned off the light so we didn’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  There was a click and the beam of a flashlight suddenly lit up the room, making her eyes sting at the sudden assault. She covered them with her arm, squinting and letting them slowly adjust. The pain began to recede. They were lying on large brown sacks she hadn’t noticed before, due to the suit and the presence of his body around her. At their feet was a large box of cups with green mermaids on the label. “Starbucks? Really? Zombies roaming the streets and the only place you can think of to take me is where you get your morning coffee?”

  His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Not many choices, babe.”

  “Sure. So if I ask you to pass me your bag, I won’t find some coffee hidden away?” she asked, trying to lean forward and gain some of her balance back. She was picking on him out of habit. She really didn’t care what he had stashed away just as long as it didn’t end up in her bag. Those damn things were
heavy enough as it was.

  He chuckled but didn’t respond.

  That’s what I thought. “We’re going to have to move,” she whispered, her hand rushing to her temple and stroking it as her blood flow normalized.

  “Can you do that?” he asked the nurse in her, knowing that every moment she sat there she was analyzing her body, mentally running through a checklist of what was right and wrong.

  Her thighs were sore. That was from the impact on the street and the fact some fucking monster had tried to eat her. But they were structurally intact and mobile. Her arms were stiff and she’d need to flex them a bit more to loosen them up. The suit had helped prevent most of the damage she would have otherwise taken. Her head felt tender and when she ran her fingers through her scalp she felt something damp. A small wound had bled a little but she was otherwise fine, it’d heal. Her vision swayed a bit when she applied pressure to it, but she didn’t think there was any internal damage. Not like she had an MRI just to make sure. There was no fracture at least.

  Her earlier assessment was probably spot on; she had a concussion.

  Well, she wasn’t about to argue with the diagnosis of her unconscious mind. Usually she’d recommend bed rest, but that ship had sailed. If they didn’t get moving, they might not ever make it out of town.

  With his help, she struggled to her feet and put a hand out; grasping a wire shelving unit for balance. Her head was still feeling a bit heavy, but the more she stretched and moved around the lighter it got. She began to shift her weight from side to side, testing her balance and her legs’ abilities to keep her vertical.

  She seemed good.

  Her weapons were lying on top of her pack and she bent over to get them. The world slid sideways and she almost fell forward again.

  “I think we should wait,” he told her, concern heavy in his voice.

  He came to stand by her side in case she needed assistance, but she had already regained her balance; the dizziness seemed to have eased. She was strapping on her weapons and trying to flex her neck to loosen the tensed muscles. She ran her fingers through the protective pads she wore, making sure everything was fastened. Then she grabbed her pack and wrestled it onto her back.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, reaching down and grabbing her Colt Rimfire. She held it firmly in the crook of her arm, but kept it lowered.

  “We can wait. No one says we have to do this right now,” her husband told her. He was eyeing her warily, as if expecting her to fall apart at any moment.

  It made her angry to be treated like a Jenga puzzle. “You know we can’t do that. Let’s go,” she told him firmly. He looked doubtful, but didn’t argue. He knew that she was the best judge of what she could take. Still, he took his sweet time getting ready. “Really?” she asked, watching him, counting the passing minutes like they were the last of her life. “Women are the ones that are supposed to take forever to leave, you know,” she said, ribbing him. She was doing her best not to snap, but it was a close thing.

  He grunted in return and straightened up, taking his own rifle in hand. He was using an HK MP5 Rimfire and he held it firmly with the suppressor lowered.

  She moved the cloth bag aside and felt the sting in her eyes as the light flooded through. She didn’t see anyone, or anything. She braced herself as she gripped the metal handle and opened the door a crack.

  With a nod from her husband; she raised her rifle and plunged back into the fray.

  Chapter 11

  Impact

  Mark

  West of Columbus, OH

  Suddenly, living so far from Arizona seemed like a horrible idea.

  Ohio wasn’t as far as the east coast, but with the distance he had to cover, he might as well have lived on another continent. There was way too much land to cross in order to reach the compound. He had no idea how he was going to do it.

  He had turned down Sean’s offer to have a private plane on call; since he had no real intention of ever using it. Now he wondered at the stupidity of that choice.

  He had gone along with things over the years, but never fully committed himself like the rest of them had. Always the quiet one of the group, he had kept his family distant from the rest; participating in body, not in spirit. It was a defense mechanism to keep himself separate and outside the group, able to break away if needed.

  Now he regretted it and wondered if that choice would end up costing his life and that of his family. He hadn’t even caught up to his wife and daughter yet. He was texting her as he went but her answers were sporadic and always just a little bit ahead of his position.

  He had jokingly created several routes to get to the compound, but none of them were viable facing an infection of this magnitude. Yet, his wife was dutifully charging down one of the direct routes and he needed to pick up his pace if he was going to catch them. He had messaged her to keep on going; as getting out of the city had taken longer than he had been comfortable with. Since they were already on the road, he didn’t want to endanger them by making them wait.

  When he had gotten back to the firehouse, the dispatcher had told them that calls were coming in from all over the city and none of them were getting answered. His co-workers had tossed down their gear upon their return, each thinking of their families and rushing to get them to safety. He had told Debbie to get moving; to abandon the phones and get her family out of town. He wondered now if he should have offered to take them with him, but his wife was already on the highway.

  He had to get moving if he was going to catch them.

  He was in his truck now, his gear on the seat next to him, making his way west. But he held no hope in his heart for what was to come. Why hadn’t he planned better? He had prayed that it would never come to this, but he had been naïve. How could he believe that those in charge would never push that button? That at some point Mankind would grow so power hungry that they’d do anything to control the world?

  He felt horrible that he was fleeing. He had been a firefighter for more than a decade and he was abandoning his city in a time of need. He should be out there trying to save lives, but he had seen several attacks since that fire and knew that it was useless.

  The most anyone could do was dig a hole, climb into it and wait it out.

  His was twenty-two hours away and through cities larger than the one he came from. If getting out of Columbus was bad, Indianapolis would be worse. Then there was St. Louis, Springfield, Oklahoma City, and finally Albuquerque. He couldn’t take a wrong turn, he had to stay focused and on track; that was his only hope.

  His CB radio was on and the chatter was erratic but constant. Other than the occasional text from Ben and status check from his wife, he was alone with the voices. It was enough to drive a man crazy. The axe he had carried for years lay on the seat next to his high-powered rifle, the blood from that crazy ass woman still staining the blade. He had already decided the axe would be more useful in the future; he had never been a good shot.

  Somewhere ahead, Joseph was on the move. He had been the one good friend he had made in their group; their similar professions drawing them together. They had both dedicated their lives to protecting strangers that would never even know their names. That made the bond between them stronger than the ones he hadn’t quite formed with the others.

  Joe was a member of the Little Rock Police Department; a boy in blue, but who the fuck cared? He had more in common with him then some of those other nerds he had gamed with. Roxanne had gotten along with the women of the group though and she was the only reason they had continued on with this Doomsday shit. Regardless of his friendship with Joseph; he would have lost interest a long time ago if she hadn’t kept pushing for them to stay involved.

  He had taken up gaming on a whim; mostly as a way to blow off steam on horrible days. He never expected to get so involved with it. Even then, he had kept to himself, only playing to relieve the built-up rage within.

  Yeah, it could be fun at times, but mostly it served to occupy his mind on his
days off.

  His wife was an accountant and constantly had to run off work for some crisis or another. He had restrained himself from reminding her that he actually dealt with real life and death situations, not her. But what was the point of opening that can of worms? His job had made his time at home seem more precious; not to be wasted on pointless bickering. Whenever he had a day off during the week and had the house to himself; he had nothing else to do but amuse himself in front of a computer screen.

  He glanced at the overpass ahead and saw a man standing on the edge; ready to jump. He slammed on his brakes and swerved so he wouldn’t be in the man’s path; but it was too late. A body slammed into his hood feet first, the impact causing his truck to buck wildly. He spun the wheel trying to maintain control, but he wasn’t quick enough. The side of the overpass was approaching fast and he threw up his hands to brace himself.

  His truck slammed into the overpass and his head struck his steering wheel; knocking him unconscious.

  Chapter 12

  Vegas

  Rosilynn

  Las Vegas, NV

  The streets appeared to be empty; but that could change drastically at any moment. They must have been in that store longer than they’d thought.

  She held her rifle ready as she stepped over broken glass and onto the blood-stained sidewalk. The scene of the accident was nowhere to be seen and she wondered how far Matt had brought her while she’d been unconscious. How had he managed to keep them safe while doing it? She didn’t know how long she stood there taking it all in, because her husband nudged her arm and was nodding his head down the street for them to keep moving.