Devour: Death & Decay Book 1

by R. L. Blalock

  Jen’s gaze drifted back to Corey, but she closed her eyes as if trying to block the image from her mind. Finally, she nodded.

  “Good.” Liv smiled, though it was halfhearted and mirthless. “On the count of three, we’ll run.”

  Jen nodded.

  “One.” The ferals were reaching through the window, some seeming to have given up on prying the door open and were now simply trying to force themselves through the tiny opening.

  “Two,” Jen said. Corey reached in towards them. Bites marred his arm, leaving it a ragged, bloody mess. His fingers flexed and grabbed for them, but only four of them. His pinky was missing.

  “Three!” Liv screamed, releasing the door. She and Jen whirled around and ran down the hallway.

  The building was eerily untouched. The desks were lined up neatly in the classrooms. Bulletin boards displayed artwork made by children who would never return to learn another lesson. The backpacks were gone. The children were gone. The teachers were gone. On Friday they had left school, not realizing that in twenty-four hours the world would end.

  The inside of the school had been preserved by its emptiness. The destruction outside had made it feel as though everything should look so chaotic. The orderly interior of the school felt out of place, like a time capsule that was decades old, not days.

  “This way!” Liv turned abruptly, skidding across the tiled floor. The sign overhead bore an arrow and the words ‘front office.’

  Hundreds of footsteps echoed through the hall behind them. The sound was thunderous and even drowned out the sound of Liv’s own heartbeat in her ears. The groans and screams chased them as the ferals nipped at their heels.

  Liv turned abruptly in front of a door with a small black-and-white placard that simply stated ‘front office.’ She twisted the knob, half expecting it to be locked, but it clicked and the door opened. Jen leapt in behind her. She threw herself against the door to close it, but arms were already protruding through the opening.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Liv cursed. “We can’t catch a break. Not one fucking break.”

  Jen lunged over and slammed against the door. “Can we…” She swallowed. “I don’t know. Do we have something to cut off their arms?”

  Liv stared at Jen for a moment. She was pale but her face had become hard as she grabbed ahold of her resolve.

  Finally, Liv shook her head. “Corey had the hatchet.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she continued, thinking more carefully about her words. “All I have are knives. It would take too long.” She looked wildly around the room for anything that could help.”

  “There!” She pointed frantically at a large desk that sat opposite the door for a secretary to greet those entering the offices. “We could barricade the door.”

  As Jen leaned forward to move towards the desk, the door slid open another couple inches. She threw herself back against it.

  “If I move, they’ll come pouring in.” She shook her head.

  Liv looked around again. They had to get out. They had to get away.

  The door to the right of the secretary’s desk was labeled ‘Principal Eric Verner.’ To the left, another door stood open. Inside she could see a few cheap chairs surrounding one end of a long, standard, bland table. Behind the table and chairs stood vending machines containing sodas, chips, and candy bars. The teacher’s lounge.

  “We run for there.” Liv braced against the door as it slid another inch. “We’ll figure out what to do when we’re in there.”

  Jen shook her head. “We aren’t going to make it. They’re too close. We’ll be lucky to get three feet before the ferals are on us.”

  Jen turned to Liv, as the door shuddered and groaned under the weight. “We aren’t all going to make it out of this.” Tears were streaming down Jen’s cheeks again. “Either one of us leaves or we’re all going to die here.” She paused, swallowing a sob before she continued. “You need to go.”

  Liv shook her head violently. “I’m not leaving. We can still get out of this.”

  “No,” Jen said, as solid as stone. “If one of us leaves, then they might live, but if we both stay, then we will both die. I’m not leaving. I want you to take Elli and run.” Jen stopped as the ferals surged forward, and they had to fight to keep the door from opening further. “She deserves better than this. She deserves a normal life. Take her to Slag Stead. Give her that normal life. Make her feel happy and safe.” Jen hung her head and sniffed. “I’ll hold the door as long as I can. I know it won’t be long. But if those few seconds buy you enough time to get out of this room, then it’s worth it.”

  Liv stared back at Jen. How could she leave? How could she run away, knowing it would doom her friend to be ripped to shreds?

  “Go home, Liv. Sleep in your own bed. Get to Slag Stead. Have your happily-ever-after with Colin.” She took a deep breath. “My happily-ever-after is here”—she strained to get out the last few words—“with Corey.” Jen tried to smile encouragingly but it only made her look more defeated.

  The door shook again and slid ever so slightly. The movement broke their secluded moment, and the sounds around them rushed back to Liv.

  “You have to go now!” Panic rose in Jen’s voice. “The door isn’t going to hold much longer!” The door shook and a crack reverberated throughout the room.

  “Thank you,” Liv said quietly, fighting the tears that threatened to blur her vision.

  “Fight or die, Liv.” Jen gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t ever stop fighting.”

  Liv threw herself away from the door and ran towards the teacher’s lounge. She burst into the small room and spun around to glance at Jen one last time.

  Jen took a few unbalanced steps before regaining her footing and spinning to meet the mass of ferals. When she turned, her face changed. The steely determination fell, replaced by a smile. A genuine smile.

  Corey was the first through the door. He raced towards Jen and tackled her in what could have been, under different circumstances, a bear hug. Jen wrapped her arms around him as they fell into a tangled mass, his face nestled against hers.

  In an instant, the smile slid off of Jen’s face and was replaced by a horrible grimace of pain as a scream ripped from her throat. She didn’t let go of Corey, though. Even in her pain, she latched on tighter, desperately clinging to him, even as he tore into the side of her face with his teeth.

  Liv slammed the door to the teacher’s lounge closed as she attempted to block out the screams. It didn’t work. She looked around the room wildly for an exit. There weren’t any doors but a window looked out towards the playground.

  With shaking fingers, Liv unlatched the window and slid it open. After two quick slashes with her knife, she had made an opening in the flimsy mesh screen that separated her from the outside world. The ferals pounded against the door, shaking it in its frame. Their wails drowned out Jen’s screams.

  Maybe she’s already dead and wailing with them, Liv thought morosely. Maybe she has her happily-ever-after. But the thought of her and Corey together again couldn’t make Liv happy. Not how it had happened. It was a tragedy, not a happily-ever-after.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the window and slipped out. Almost as an afterthought, she tugged the window closed. Maybe it would give her a few more seconds.

  Then she ran.

  Liv sprinted around the corner of the building and towards the subdivision. Her subdivision.

  Her parents’ home wasn’t far now. Her own home wasn’t far now. She threw herself into another thin line of trees that separated the subdivision from the school.

  Day 5

  12:05 am

  Liv crouched across the street from her parents’ home. Ferals shambled through the street, but not many of them. Despite their low numbers, she wanted nothing to do with them. She had seen more ferals today than she ever cared to.

  She recognized one of them, a boy of about eleven, if Liv remembered correctly. He had just barely started walking when Li
v’s parents had moved into the neighborhood. And in their ten years at the house, they had watched him grow up.

  The boy, Garrett, had always been polite, if a little exuberant at times. Often when he was younger, he would sit with her father in the garage and ask about all of the different tools he had. What were their names? What were they for? Garrett’s mother had fretted that he was being bothersome, but Liv’s dad had been entirely unperturbed by all the questions. In fact, her father had grown to look forward to Garrett’s visits. Liv thought perhaps he enjoyed teaching the young boy about things his three daughters had never cared to learn about.

  He was tall, taller than Liv thought any eleven-year-old had a right to be. If it weren’t for his gangly limbs, Liv would have thought he was much older. His hair was so fair it was almost colorless. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, as he often had when he rode his bike around the neighborhood.

  But he wasn’t riding his bike now. He was just standing in the street under one of the dim streetlamps, swaying ever so slightly as he slept.

  Liv turned away from the boy and looked over to her parents’ house. It was dark, but that was hardly surprising, considering what time it was. If they were home, they would most likely be asleep.

  However, Liv wasn’t entirely sure that they were home. The driveway was empty. Her mother always parked in the garage. Her father, though, always parked in the driveway and his car wasn’t there.

  Had he been at work when the outbreak had happened? Had he been running errands or been out somewhere else?

  Maybe they were home and just sleeping. Maybe if she went in and woke them, they would have some horror story about what had happened to the car. They would all hug and cry and say at least they were together.

  Liv sucked in a deep breath and bolted from her hiding spot. She ran lightly across the street and stopped in the driveway. She took a few steps forward as she stared down at the cement.

  There was a splotch, dark against the pale concrete.

  She knelt down next to it and tried to make out some of the details. It was large enough to be seen in the light of the stars and the sparse streetlamps, but it was huge. The edges were jagged as the liquid had sprayed out from the center when it made contact with the concrete. She couldn’t see its color, but her stomach sank as she looked at the spot.

  It was blood.

  Maybe it wasn’t from her parents. She herself had run through many yards in the past couple days. Perhaps it was someone else’s blood. Someone who had been using the same methods and travel patterns that she was using. Someone who perhaps hadn’t been as lucky.

  If I’m lucky, Liv thought grimly, then I must be a human version of a black cat. Still being alive, though, she supposed, meant that she had more luck than a lot of others had.

  She quickly stood up and strode to the porch. The light wasn’t on. Her parents always left the porch light on. But maybe that meant nothing. The world had become a dangerous place. Maybe they didn’t want anyone to know they were home. Maybe they were afraid the light would attract ferals.

  Maybe that’s why her father’s car wasn’t outside. Maybe they had found a way to park both cars in the garage so that no one would know they were home.

  Maybe.

  There were a lot of maybes she had been telling herself. It was time to find out the truth.

  Liv took hold of the knob and tried to twist it, but it was locked. Her parents always locked the door. She jammed her hand into her bag and fished out her keys, thankful she had been smart enough to grab them from the ignition before abandoning her car.

  Her key ring didn’t hold much: a lanyard that made it easy to find in her purse, her car key, a key to her house, and a key to her parents’ house. She jammed the key into the lock and then the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

  The interior of the house was entirely dark. The dim light over the stove in the kitchen was even off. The power must be out. Liv leaned back against the door as she felt in her bag for her flashlight. Her parents’ house had never made her feel uneasy. It was always a place of joy and happiness. Occasionally, frustration perhaps. But it was always a place where the family got together and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.

  Now, standing in the darkness, as ferals slept in the street outside, it felt menacing.

  “Mom?” she called tentatively as she listened for movement. Nothing.

  Liv finally felt the flashlight and pulled it out. Everything in the house was as it had always been. Two ugly blue recliners that her parents used almost religiously sat perpendicular to a brown couch. All three pieces of furniture faced a moderately sized television on the opposite wall. The living room flowed seamlessly into the dining room. Beyond that, a low half wall separated the kitchen from the rest of the open room.

  “Dad?” Liv called again, more confidently. “It’s me. I’m here.” She swallowed. “I’m alive.”

  She wanted a hug. She wanted her mother to run out from the bedroom, tears streaming down her face, and sweep her up in a big hug. She wanted to see the tired, groggy face of her father, a man who had to wake up an hour and a half early so he would be truly awake when he finally left for work.

  Liv sprinted through the living room and turned abruptly down a hall off the dining room. She lunged for the door at the end and threw it open, heedless of what might be on the other side.

  Her flashlight beam swept over the queen-size bed with an old bookshelf-style headboard. At the head of the bed, a dozen pillows were arranged in a precise manner she had never been able to figure out. They sat on top of a perfectly smoothed comforter.

  No one had slept in the bed.

  Liv’s heart sank and she felt tears spring to her eyes as she stared at the empty room.

  The garage! She spun around. Directly to her left was another door. Her flashlight beam cut through the cavernous black pit to reveal that her mother’s car sat safely inside. If her mother’s car was here, then they had to have gone somewhere.

  Liv dashed to the kitchen, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her parents would have called if they had left. Except, they didn’t have any way to reach her. Her cell phone was still under the pillow in Nate and Lydia’s guest room. When they were unable to reach her, they probably would have left a note.

  On the small center island sat a yellow legal pad. The words on it were written in her father’s large, blocky, all-caps writing.

  6/4

  Dear Olivia, Jorden, and Karen,

  Went to check on Grandma. We’ll stay with her until this blows over.

  Haven’t been able to reach Olivia. Colin heard from her on the first day, but we haven’t been able to reach either of them since.

  Jorden is headed out to Slag Stead with Jay and his family. It’s a farm outside of Troy. If this lasts, we’ll head out there with Grandma.

  Karen and the kids are heading to Diane and Mark’s house. They’re far from their neighbors and they should be safe there.

  We love you girls. You’re all strong. We know you’ll be fine. We’ll see you soon. Stay safe.

  Love,

  Mom and Dad

  Liv reread the note several times before folding it up and placing it carefully in her bag. They had gone to take care of Grandma. Her grandmother lived a few hours away in the small town of Quincy, Illinois. The roads were mostly open country. The larger—if they could even be called that—towns it passed through were Bowling Green and Hannibal, along with a smattering of small building that could hardly be called towns. They would probably be fairly safe.

  The note had other good news as well. Her sisters were both headed to safe places. Jorden was headed to Slag Stead. Perhaps by now her parents would have decided to head out there. Maybe they would all be waiting for her when she arrived.

  Liv turned and walked back through the living room. Next to the front door was a set of stairs that led to two more bedrooms and an office loft that were mostly unused. At the top of one of the bookshelves was an
array of family photos. Some were old, from before she was born. The newest was a family photo they had taken last winter.

  An older photo drew her attention. It was from when she was in middle school, and the entire family was in it. This was rare because their family had always been spread out across many states and cities. They all smiled at the camera, close together with their arms around each other. She carefully pulled the photo from its frame and tucked it into her bag next to the note. With that, Liv headed back downstairs.

  She hesitated at the door and returned to the yellow legal pad. She rewrote her father’s note, in case either of her sisters stopped by. Then she wrote a note of her own.

  6/7

  Everyone,

  I’m here and I’m headed out to Slag Stead to meet up with Jorden and hopefully Mom, Dad, and Grandma. Elli is fine. We’re both managing.

  I lost my cell phone a few days ago. And I’ve tried contacting a few people when the places we’ve stopped at have had working phones, but we haven’t had much luck.

  We’re moving on to our house and then pushing on (on foot) to Slag Stead.

  I’m sure you know, but it’s bad out there. So stay safe. Also, they sleep at night. If you’re quiet and careful you can creep around them but it’s risky. Really risky.

  I love you all.

  Liv

  Liv had tried to keep her note short and concise but had found herself rambling, wanting to share everything with her family. Who might never see the words. Who might not even be alive.

  Tears sprung to her eyes again and she rubbed at them furiously. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. And she would. But in a few more blocks. In her own bed.

  Day 5

  12:42 am

  Liv couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up as she strode down the street. She was almost home.