Fight the MonSter: Find a Cure for MS

by Doug Dandridge

  "Your wife is making the same offer to Silver?"

  "Yup."

  Doctor Johnson stared open-mouthed. The creature before him was offering him the opportunity to decide his ex-wife's fate, the woman who had left him to marry his rival and persecutor, Doctor Nathan Silver. All he had to do was write faster than his wife's new husband. "What's to keep me from going to the police?"

  "Nothing, but I'm betting Silver don't."

  He knew Jed was right. Morals was a word Silver's spellcheck underlined in red. "What guarantee do I have?"

  "None."

  "Do you have all the recordings on you?"

  "I'll give you one a week in our sessions."

  Doctor Johnson thought about Amy. If he did nothing, Silver would write his book and she would live. That would also mean that Silver beat him, again. If, however, he wrote a book and beat Silver, he could show Silver what it was like to lose everything. "You could come in twice a week."

  2

  Unintended Consequences

  By Heath Stallcup

  Trevor stumbled in the darkness, his feet catching on the briars and vines. Twigs and limbs that littered the floor of the woods grabbed at his feet, threatening to trip him as he fought his way through the shadowy forest.

  He broke through the treeline and entered a small clearing. His hand held the bloody bite on his arm, the pain radiating up through his elbow and causing his shoulder to burn. He could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead as the fever began to take him. He gasped for fresh breath then pushed further. He had to put as much distance as he could between himself and his family before he turned and pray that his undead mind would have no memory of where they were holed up.

  Trevor had been meting out the food and water over the last week while his fiancé and little sister laid low in an abandoned storm shelter outside of the small town they had travelled to. They had been so careful while they crossed northern Arkansas into Missouri looking for Stephanie’s parents. They had reached the edge of Charleston and it took them nearly as long to cross the infected zones as it did to get to the city. Once they reached the small neighborhood where Steph’s parents once lived, it became obvious that not many had survived.

  Trevor spotted her father wandering the cul-de-sac in front of their house with the scope of his rifle. Her mother was stuck in the front yard, the leg of a small canine gripped in her claw-like hand. Stephanie all but begged him to put them both out of their misery.

  They spent the next three days dodging the undead and looking for a place to hole up. They found a farm house about eight miles outside of town, untouched and un-ravaged. The storm shelter behind the house was loaded with preserves and mason jars filled with home-grown goods.

  Trevor cleaned the house out of anything that could make travelling easier and moved it all to the storm shelter. Food, first-aid supplies, ammunition, weapons of any kind, and durable clothing were of the highest priority. Toilet paper may have seemed a luxury, but at the moment, it was worth making the extra trips to the house. He made sure to take a different route with each trip to keep from trampling the grass and leaving a trail, but he feared that the area right outside the shelter door would be a dead giveaway.

  “We won’t be able to stay here long. Eventually somebody or something will figure out we’re here.”

  Stephanie seemed almost in shock since she had discovered her parents' fate but she was slowly coming around. She stopped staring at nothing and being unresponsive. She nodded slowly at his statement but she still didn’t turn to face him. “Are we still going to Springfield to look for your family?”

  “I’d like to.” Trevor placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “For Amy, if nothing else.”

  Stephanie nodded. “We should get a car.”

  “Too risky.” Trevor collapsed into the folding chair and took her hand into his. “Remember when we left Pine Bluff? We barely made it out of Little Rock.”

  Stephanie finally raised her eyes to meet his and he could almost swear he saw a small smile begin to form on her face. “Daddy’s truck could go right over them.”

  Trevor gave her a blank stare. “I don’t…what truck?”

  “Daddy had an old four wheel drive - big, old, gas guzzling beast. Momma hated that thing. She always said you could hit a cow with it and never know it.” She gave him a tight lipped smile. “Cow. Zombie. What’s the difference, right?”

  Trevor leaned back in the chair and gave her another blank stare. “It would have been nice to have known this when we were practically standing in their front yard.”

  She snapped her head around to face him and her face hardened. “Excuse me for not exactly thinking straight, Trev. I had just found out that my parents were undead monsters.”

  He held his hands up in surrender and softly shushed her. “Shh, okay. I’m sorry, Steph. I wasn’t thinking either.”

  He scratched at his chin as he thought about what she said. “Do you know where the keys are?”

  She nodded. “He kept them on a nail right beside the door going into the kitchen. In the garage.”

  “And you’re sure it’s still running?” Amy leaned forward, her hopes of not having to walk all the way home suddenly piquing her excitement.

  Stephanie nodded. “That stupid truck was his baby. He paid it more attention than…” She trailed off and turned away from them.

  “Okay then. It’s settled. I’ll go back for the truck first thing tomorrow.”

  “I’m going with you.” Stephanie stated, coming to her feet.

  “Oh no you’re not. You’re staying here and keeping an eye on Amy.” Trevor crossed his arms and shook his head. “You two pack up our supplies and get them ready to roll and I’ll get the truck.”

  “Damn it, Trev, that’s my house. There might be a few things there that I want to salvage.”

  “So tell me what you want and I’ll grab it for you.”

  She glared at him until she realized he wasn’t going to cave. “Nevermind. It’s nothing that can’t wait until this is all over.”

  “If it ever is.” Trevor said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “If you change your mind, let me know. Otherwise, I’m heading out at first light.”

  ****

  Trevor tripped and fell down the embankment, his arm scraping along the rough grit and gravel before he splashed into the chill water. The shock of the water hitting his fevered body nearly froze him in place, but he forced himself to his knees and out of the muddy creek. He climbed on hands and knees until he reached the top of the embankment and leaned against a small tree, his breath shining silvery in the moonlit night.

  He wanted so desperately to lay down and sleep but he knew he had to keep going. He had to put as much distance as he could between himself and Stephanie. He couldn’t risk hurting her. He loved her too much to allow himself to put her in harm’s way.

  His mind skipped to Amy and how trusting she was. She had always looked up to him. When she was smaller and growing up, she always turned to him for his approval before she did anything. When she was nine and David asked her to the movies, she had to call him and ask if he thought it would be okay or would it be a ‘real date’? Trevor had laughed and he instantly regretted it. It had cut her to the core and she shrunk in within herself, feeling that he was making fun of her. That was the furthest thing from his intent. He had just thought it was so cute at the time that he laughed.

  He stumbled again and fell to his knees, the rocks and gravel biting into his flesh and he felt the tears run down his cheeks. Was he crying from the pain or was he reliving the moment when he had hurt Amy? He pulled himself back up and stared to the stars in the sky. “Please, God…keep them safe.”

  The sound of twigs snapping behind him spun his head around and he could barely make out the forms of figures staggering in the shadows toward him. “Keep following me you rotting pieces of filth. Follow me as far away from them as I can lead you.”

  He pushed himself
to keep moving and inadvertently scraped his open wound along a short tree branch, reminding him of when those nasty, yellow teeth sunk into his arm…

  He had worked his way back to the house that Stephanie had grown up in. He saw the black goo that had once been her dad’s head across the sidewalk in front of the house. Her mom’s body lay sprawled across the porch. He stayed crouched low, his eyes constantly scanning for any other zombies that might be in the area.

  Satisfied that they had left the area in search of another source of food, he scooted between the houses and shouldered the rifle he had been using. He unscrewed the suppressor from the barrel and pulled his pistol from the holster. He screwed the suppressor to the end of the barrel and held it at the ready as he made his way across the yard and along the side of the house.

  He tucked low beside a bush and looked back the way he had come. He had learned a long time ago that the zombies would moan if they saw you, but not all of them were capable of moaning. He had been surprised early on by one that had its throat ripped out. It simply followed him, gurgling as it continually reached for him, its hands grasping for what it wasn’t fast enough to reach.

  Although Trevor wasn’t a huge fan of the pistol, with or without the suppressor, it was a necessary evil in closed spaces. The rifle was simply too large and unwieldy to try to use in cramped areas. He had been lucky to find the semi-auto .22 magnum with a threaded barrel. The suppressor happened to work perfectly with it and the AR rifle. Granted, it was much quieter with the pistol, but the rifle was much more effective at stopping these things.

  He tried the side door of the garage and pushed it open slowly. Leaning against the wall, he strained his ears to listen inside. Satisfied that nothing was waiting inside that didn’t take a key, he slipped inside and dropped low to the ground. He searched along the floor and tried to search out anything that wasn’t on tires. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom but once he could see, he verified the garage empty.

  He pulled the side door shut and walked around to the large flat black pickup. A large GMC 2500 in flat black paint sat on the far side of the garage. A smile spread across his face as he realized that it was a vintage 1979 three quarter ton military surplus vehicle.

  Trevor ran a hand along the side and paused at the large grill guard at the front of the truck. It was not a thing of beauty, but one of utility. He placed both hands along the top of the guard and pushed. It didn’t give and his smile widened. “You could push a train with this thing.”

  He looked at the side and did a double fist pump when he saw the 6.2L logo on the front fender. “Nothing like a Detroit diesel to moto-vate you.” He practically skipped to the back wall of the garage and pulled the key ring from the door jamb.

  Opening the door, he hopped up into the cab and found the square bodied key. He slipped it into the ignition and turned the key, waiting for the dash to come to life.

  Nothing.

  He felt his stomach fall into his boots and the blood drained from his face.

  “No, no, no, no…” He slipped from behind the wheel and popped the hood. Lifting the massive hood and climbing up on the grill guard he stared into the engine compartment.

  “Both batteries are missing…”

  Trevor began scanning the garage, his eyes probing the gloom of the darkened space looking for where they might be. He spotted them both sitting on the workbench. He jumped down and grabbed the first one. As he lifted it from the bench, his mind reeled. “What if it’s dead?”

  He searched the garage until he found a battery charger. The electricity had been out for weeks but he prayed the gage on the front would tell him if the battery held a charge or not. He connected the two leads and looked at the needle gage. Nothing.

  He connected the other battery and stared at the needle.

  Nothing.

  He scratched at his head as he stared at the machine. Did it need electricity to work? He honestly didn’t know.

  There’s only one way to find out.

  He carried both batteries to the truck and hefted them into place. Finding her dad’s tools, he connected the leads and tightened the connectors.

  Dripping in sweat, he climbed back behind the wheel and twisted the key. A dim glow greeted him, but a twist of the key only answered in a clicking from under the hood.

  Trevor sighed heavily and bounced his head off the steering wheel. He leaned back in the seat and stared at the Subaru parked next to the giant truck. He knew better than to try to take something like that out into a world invaded by walking corpses.

  Still…something about the little car had him continuing to stare at it. After a few moments, his eyes focused on something hanging on the wall on the other side of the Subaru. Jumper cables!

  A moment later, the hood to the Subaru was up and the jumper cables were stretched across to the big, black truck.

  Trevor twisted the key again and watched as the dash lights brightened. He smiled to himself and offered a short prayer to the god of automobiles.

  With a quick twist of the key, the big block diesel belched to life.

  Trevor whooped then hopped from the cab and pulled the cables free. He slammed the hood on the truck and tossed the cables in the bed.

  He ran to the front of the garage and pulled the red nylon cord that disconnected the automatic door opener. With a quick jerk of the handle the door lifted on its tracks and the bright midday sun flooded the garage.

  Trevor turned for the truck just as something grabbed him, teeth sinking deeply into his arm, and a searing, shooting, electrical pain jolted him all the way to his elbow.

  ****

  Trevor fought his way back to the truck and made his way out of town. He was headed back to the farmhouse when his sanity hit home and he realized what he was doing. He was infected. He had no idea how much longer he had, but there was no way he was going to deliver Death to the two women he loved.

  He locked up the brakes on the truck and spun it around. He pointed it back toward town and mashed the accelerator. He could feel whatever the poison was coursing through him, infecting him, killing him from the inside out. He knew he had no choice but to put as much distance as he could between himself and Stephanie. He had to protect her and Amy no matter the cost.

  As he approached the town, he saw the shambling dead step out toward the street and he smiled as they bounced off the heavy duty grill guard. He watched one trip and fall behind the others, effectively becoming a fleshy speed bump that nearly sent him airborne as he bounced over it.

  He pushed the old diesel truck through town as more and more infected came out to greet him. More and more met the front end and more and more splatters covered the windshield, blocking his view until he could no longer see.

  He slowed the truck, the wipers effectively smearing the greasy goo, until the creatures had him surrounded. He couldn’t move forward and he couldn’t back up. Trevor groaned to himself as he saw the hands slapping the side windows, smearing heaven knew what across the glass.

  He leaned across the seat and his rifle fell across the 4WD lever. He shook his head in disgust as he had forgotten all about that option. He put the truck in neutral, shifted it into four wheel drive, then put it back into gear.

  As he pulled forward, he heard sickening crunches and felt the truck lift itself as it climbed the fleshy obstacles. It didn’t take long before the hands had stopped slapping the side glass and he quickly rolled down the window and stuck his head out to be able to see.

  He drove the truck out of town until steam started pouring out from under the hood. He didn’t know what had caused it to start overheating but the dash lights were glowing red indicating that the motor was, indeed, overheating.

  He turned the engine off and hopped out of the truck.

  It was at this point that he realized just how badly his body was hurting and he wondered what exactly this disease was doing to him.

  ****

  His throat felt like it was full of sand an
d his head was pounding. He had once had a migraine and this hurt so much worse…Trevor really thought his brain was melting and his head was going to explode from the pressure.

  He slowed down and felt his legs buckle. His hands reached out in the darkness and he gripped a small sapling, spinning him as he fell to the cold ground. The sounds of his pursuers had died off at some time, but he continued to push on.

  He had no idea where he was or how far he had gone. He could have been running in circles all day but he knew he had to keep going. He had to get as far away as he could from…from …he had to go…where was he going?

  Trevor lay on the ground, his eyes squeezed shut from the intense pain and he fought the chills that racked his body. He knew that he had to stay coherent as long as he could. He had to save…Stephanie! And Amy! Yes…he had to save…he had to…he was so cold. And oh god, he was so hungry. His throat hurt so bad. His tongue felt like it was coated in sand.

  He tried to swallow but couldn’t.

  He felt his body jerk and buck as he tried to suck in air and he pounded his hands into the ground and forced himself to swallow the air. He swallowed it then forced it into his lungs.

  His eyes sprung open and he gasped for his next breath. Then his next. He had to keep going. He had to. Had to put more distance…more distance between him and…the girls. What were their names?

  It didn’t matter. They were important to him. He had to save them. From him.

  He rolled over and crawled to his knees. He pushed up onto his hands and used the sapling to get back onto his feet.

  One foot after the other.Must. Keep. Going.

  Images flashed through his mind. A girl with blonde hair. The bluest eyes he’d ever seen. A ring. She said yes! She cried…she kissed him. They were happy.

  The little red haired girl. She had freckles. She looked like her mother…how does he know that?

  Must. Keep. Going.