The Rotten Series (Book 1): Infection

by Lewis, M. Lauryl

“He tried to shoot me,” was all Mike said in reply.

  “We need to leave,” said Ellis as he sat me down. “The gunfire might attract others.”

  “I’ll drive,” offered Hazel.

  “Better get the fucking lead out,” exclaimed Mike, his voice traveling from the back of the vehicle.

  “What’s up?” asked Ellis.

  “There’s infected coming our way.”

  “There’s a couple in front of us, too,” said Hazel as she ducked down into the driver’s seat. “Hold on.”

  The engine revved to life and the RV lurched forward. I held onto the small table and lowered myself onto the bench seat. I looked at Ellis, who met my gaze. He looked like he had enough adrenaline in his system to last the rest of the day. The coach lurched when it impacted with something.

  “Hazel, what was that?” asked Ellis.

  “One of the infected. I had no choice. I had to hit it.”

  “You’re doing fine,” said Mike. “Just get us back to the highway without crashing or rolling it.”

  “Working on it,” she said as we bumped along at what felt like an unsafe speed.

  Ellis took a seat across from me. He reached over the table and took one of my hands in his.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Your jaw’s swelling.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” I looked down at his hand on mine.

  “I’m sorry I left you alone out there.”

  I looked up. “I’m not helpless.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, turning a bit red in the face.

  “I know. I did get him in the nuts pretty good.” I forced a smile.

  “I think we all heard his reaction.” He winked at me, squeezed my hand, and stood. “I need to go talk to Hazel.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anymore. I wanted to curl up somewhere and cry, but knew I’d look weak. In light of everything going on, looking weak seemed unwise. I watched as Ellis took a seat up front with his sister. My attention turned to Mike, who sat down across from me. He ignored me while he unfolded a map and smoothed it on the table surface.

  “Here,” he said, startling me.

  I looked up questioningly and he pointed to a location on the map.

  “We’re here. We need to find shelter. There’s not much around but I know there used to be a run-down house about a mile up. It’s off the road maybe a quarter mile. Think we should try for it?” he asked.

  “Why are you asking me?” I asked, my speech slightly distorted from my swelling jaw.

  The man shrugged. His eyes were dark brown, and I wondered what secrets they hid. Unlike his best friend, Mike wore his hair shaved as close to his scalp as he could. His skin was darker, but I couldn’t quite place his ethnicity.

  “I guess it depends on how run down you mean,” I answered honestly. “If the structure’s shit then what’s the point? There’d be no safety.”

  He grinned, making him appear even more menacing. “Bingo. So what kind of place should we be looking for?”

  “Concrete. Maybe brick. Maybe somewhere not completely isolated. You know, hide in plain sight?”

  “Good answers. Except for hiding in plain sight. Too dangerous with the infected out there.”

  I didn’t respond. The roughness of the gravel road gave way to smooth pavement signaling our return to the highway. We drove in silence for at least a mile before Hazel pulled to the shoulder and slowed to a stop.

  “Michael, we have a roadblock,” said Ellis as he left the passenger seat to join us at the small table.

  Hazel cut the engine and made her way to the table. I scooted over for her to sit beside me. Everyone else looked as tired as I felt.

  “What’s out there?” asked Mike.

  “Looks like a pile-up. Three cars and a school bus on its side,” explained Hazel.

  “We can push the cars out of our way, but the bus is an issue,” continued Ellis.

  “Should we turn around?” I asked, trying to be useful in some manner.

  “I think so,” said Mike. “We should head north and try for this building here.”

  “What is it?” asked Hazel.

  “Looks like a fish hatchery. Probably trout or salmon. Chances are there’s not many people there, not much traffic, and usually they have some kind of building for staff to work in,” he continued.

  “It might work,” said Ellis.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” said Hazel.

  “You okay to keep driving?” asked Mike.

  “I’ll be fine, as long as I can sleep later.”

  “I slept for a while,” I said. “I can drive.”

  “Do you know how to handle a big rig?” asked Ellis.

  “Yeah. I used to drive a delivery truck for my dad.”

  “Ellis, why don’t you sit up front with her and navigate,” suggested Mike. “Hazel, go ahead and get some sleep. We’ll wake you when we get there.”

  “Are you sure you feel up to it?” Ellis asked me.

  “Yeah. It’d be a good distraction.”

  “Okay, I’ll sleep,” said Hazel with a yawn. “Wake me if there’s any trouble.”

  I slid out from the bench seat and stood, my right leg buckling from my sprained ankle. “Mother fucker,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Your ankle?” asked Mike.

  “Yeah.”

  “You can’t use the gas pedal like that, so no driving for now,” added Ellis.

  “El, I’ll get us started. I know where the turn off is. Maybe help her wrap it and use one of the ice packs from the first aid kit,” said Mike. “The sooner she heals the better. We can’t afford to be slowed down.”

  His tone was snarky and made me skin crawl. I was glad when he turned around and walked to the front seat.

  “Hey,” said Ellis. “Ignore him. The only thing he’s right about is that we need to wrap that ankle. You should ice and elevate it, too.”

  “Sure,” I said bleakly.

  “Do me a favor and stand there for a minute? I’ll fold the table down to make a bed and get you taken care of.”

  “Thanks.”

  I watched as he removed the table top and flipped it over, creating a platform for the removable seat-backs. He tossed a backpack in the middle of the small bed.

  “Go ahead and sit against the seat back. You can elevate your leg on the backpack. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

  I hobbled the short distance to the makeshift bed and sat down. It didn’t take long to scoot my butt back and position myself. I reached down and grabbed the backpack; carefully lifting my injured leg, I maneuvered the pack underneath my calf. Ellis joined me, setting a small silver-colored toolbox in front of him and next to my hip.

  “Want to take your shoe and sock off or want me to?” he asked me.

  I genuinely pouted. “It’s gonna stink,” I grumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, likely just being polite.

  I pulled my leg toward me and began working at my shoelace. I could see my ankle was considerably more swollen than it had been even fifteen minutes before.

  “Doing okay?” Ellis asked.

  “So far,” I said with a wince. Finishing loosening the laces, I attempted to pull my sneaker off. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, so I clenched my teeth and breathed slowly to cope.

  “Easy, let me help,” said Ellis.

  I leaned back and watched as he stabilized my ankle and pulled off my shoe. I tensed while the pain peaked, and he patiently waited for me.

  “It’s swollen but I don’t think it’s broken.”

  He looked down at my ankle and half-smiled without saying anything. My toenails had a coat of sunrise kiss polish that was horribly chipped. Karly had picked the color. My thoughts wandered to her, and I did my best to force them from my mind. The RV began to sway as Mike turned it around on the highway.

  “What’s up with the tattoo?” he asked.

  The top of my foot was
inked with a cherry blossom branch in shades of brown with pink flowers.

  “My favorite flower,” I groaned.

  “Cherry blossoms?”

  “Yeah. They look like cotton or snow kinda just hanging in the air.”

  “Huh.”

  He reached into the toolbox and pulled out a wide ACE wrap. He gently started to roll it onto my lower shin and wound it around my ankle, and eventually wrapped all of my foot except for my toes. It was snug, but made my ankle feel better. He finished it off with a metal fastener.

  “So, not poppies?” he asked.

  “What?” I asked.

  “On your foot. For your name.”

  I chuckled. “No. Not poppies.”

  He handed me a small ice pack.

  “Mind activating this one?”

  I took it and squeezed until it made a pop, then kneaded at it for a few seconds. Ellis also had one but was struggling to break the inner bag that would set off a chemical reaction. I held mine out for him.

  “Here, I’ll trade you.”

  We switched packs and after several attempts at squeezing the packet, I gave up and twisted it instead. Once it was thoroughly mixed, I handed it back to him. He used a piece of long gauze to tie the two cold packs to each side of my ankle.

  “Michael, want me to drive?” he called up to his friend.

  “Nah,” the man called back. “It’s not much farther.”

  Ellis neatly organized the first aid kit before shutting the lid. He tucked it underneath the bed where it would be out of the way. I wiggled my toes to make sure my circulation was okay and watched as he sat mirroring me against the other backrest.

  “So, what’s your story?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The three of you,” I clarified. “You’re all siblings?”

  He sighed and looked deep in thought.

  “It’s complicated. Hazel and I are step brother and sister. Mike’s her actual half-brother, but not mine. We’ve been best friends since I can remember, though. And Hazel and I grew up together, so we don’t even think of ourselves as steps.”

  “What about you? Do you have family?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah. Both my parents are living in Idaho. They retired a few years ago and moved to Boise.”

  “Any siblings?” he asked.

  “Nope. I’m an only child.”

  “I was supposed to be there for Labor Day. In Boise, I mean…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. My car broke down. So, Karly and I headed to the store for a late-night grocery run. We watched two sick people die right there in the aisle. We were headed home when…” my voice trailed off.

  “When the accident happened?”

  I nodded before changing the subject. “I do have a cousin I’m close with. Mary. She’s two years older than me and funny as shit. She lives in New York with her fiancé Alec.”

  “Head’s up, people,” said Mike loudly, interrupting our conversation.

  Ellis stood immediately.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “We’ve got company. A truck is headed this way….and stopping.”

  “Shit,” mumbled Ellis.

  “I’m stopping, but let me go out alone,” said Mike.

  He brought the RV to a stop and shut the engine off. He left his seat and made his way to where Ellis stood, and handed him the keys.

  “Just in case it goes down bad.”

  Mike tucked his pistol into the back of his jeans waistband and nodded once to Ellis before he exited the vehicle. The motorhome was hot inside, and that only grew more intense once the engine was shut off. Even with the front windows down, the air inside didn’t circulate. Ellis knelt on the bed beside me and carefully reached over me to lift the small window upward. It offered little relief, but we were able to hear voices from outside.

  “What’s going on?” whispered Hazel, startling me. I hadn’t heard her approach us.

  “Mike’s pulled over to talk to some people,” I whispered back.

  “Want me to head out?” she asked, addressing Ellis.

  “Not unless Mike signals for us. Best they not know how many we are. At least not yet.”

  The voices outside grew panicked. Ellis crouched and did his best to peek out the front windshield while staying concealed. A baby began crying, and a woman began pleading. Mike’s voice was loud and clear over the commotion.

  “Keep her back!”

  “She’s okay, really! We just need help,” boomed an unfamiliar man’s voice.

  “Where’d the blood come from?” I could hear alarm in Mike’s voice.

  “She just got hurt in a crowd. That’s all,” said the man.

  “We can’t help, sorry.”

  “Please!” screamed the woman. “Please just help us! We have nowhere to go!”

  The baby continued to wail, the cry unnaturally high pitched and already grating on my nerves.

  I looked between Ellis and Hazel, who were looking at each other.

  “I’m going out,” said Ellis. “Hazel grab your gun and come with?”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever’s going on out there it doesn’t sound good.”

  “They could be contagious,” I mentioned. “Best not to get too close.”

  “She’s right,” agreed Hazel.

  Ellis tossed the keys my way. “Keep these out of sight.”

  As the brother and sister stepped down from the motorhome, I lifted my leg off the backpack and scooted toward the edge of the bed. I stood on my good leg, holding on to the counter that was only a step away. I tucked the keys into my jeans pocket and hopped my way to the exit door. Too curious to stay inside, I eased my way down the steps and watched from the doorway.

  The man we’d heard was older. He had a scraggly gray and yellow beard and wore a black skull cap on his head. He looked like he was straight out of a motorcycle gang, complete with chaps and a leather jacket. The woman was younger, maybe by twenty years. Her shirt and part of her skirt were soaked in blood. She held a small baby in her arms, who continued to wail.

  “Easy,” said Ellis. “Whatever is happening is contagious. We just can’t risk getting infected.”

  “We’ll die out here,” the woman cried.

  “The road’s blocked ahead,” added Mike. “I suggest you turn around and try to find shelter.”

  “We won’t make it that far,” said the man in an angry tone. “Running on fumes and the baby’s hungry. Her crying is going to attract these goddamn monsters.” He glared at the younger woman.

  “Is that her mom?” asked Hazel.

  “She is.”

  “What’s the blood from?” she asked him.

  “One of them attacked me,” the woman sobbed.

  “Shut up Meredith! Shut your goddamn mouth!” scolded her older companion.

  “Easy now,” said Ellis. “There’s no need to yell at her.”

  “That’s my business,” scowled the man.

  “What’s the baby’s name?” I called out, hoping to remind everyone that a baby was involved.

  “Doesn’t matter, she’s good as dead,” said the man.

  The woman fell into near-hysterics. “Den don’t say that! God don’t say that!” she wailed.

  The man, Den, walked closer to the woman and drew his arm back, quickly swinging it forward and slapped her across the face. She was knocked off balance but clung to her baby and managed to stay her ground.

  “Fuck, man, don’t do that!” yelled Mike.

  “Fuck the fuck off,” said the angry man.

  Fresh blood flowed from the woman’s nose. I gripped a metal bar that ran alongside the stairs and tensed.

  “She’s bleeding from her nose,” I said.

  The mother fell to her knees, still clutching the bundle in her arms. Her angry friend drew a gun from a holster at his hip and aimed it at her. Before any of us could react, he cocked the pistol and shot her in the head.

  My ears ringing, I scre
amed. The woman fell backward as the babe in her arms spilled out of her arms and onto the asphalt. Mike and Ellis both sprang into action, drawing their own weapons and aiming at the man. He held his hands up, his pistol still in his grip, and drew thin lips into a terrifying taut smile. For a moment, I expected him to start laughing. Instead, he relaxed his smile and put his own gun to his temple and squeezed the trigger. Blood and brain matter splattered toward the fallen woman and the baby on the ground who continued to cry shrilly. Den’s dead body slumped to the ground.

  “Oh shit. Shit shit shit,” chanted Hazel.

  Mike leaned over, hands on his knees, and breathed deeply.

  Hazel moved quickly to the baby’s side and knelt.

  “Don’t touch it!” yelled Ellis.

  Hazel looked back. “We can’t leave it!”

  I used the side of the motorhome to stabilize myself while I hobbled toward her.

  “Hazel, it might be contagious. Let’s take it slow, okay?” I said.

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  She gently inspected the wriggling bundle, careful to only touch the swaddling blanket. As she peeled the cloth back, she recoiled and fell onto her butt. She leaned over and vomited violently.

  “What is it?” I asked as I reached her side.

  “It’s not alive,” she moaned.

  “It’s moving,” I said, not understanding.

  “Yeah but it’s not alive, either.”

  Ellis and Mike both arrived at our side at the same time. Hazel turned away while I reached forward and uncovered the baby. It was human - or had been. Her skin was gray and black, and she was naked under the blanket. Her umbilical cord was still fresh, at least relatively so. Dark purple lines spread from the base of the cord outward. Dark hair was plastered to her skull. Her tiny body moved in unnatural undulations and quick jerks, and she turned her head toward us. Her small mouth was still plump and smacked irregularly. A horrid stench emanated from her. It burned my nose and throat. The baby opened her eyes, which were shriveled and clouded over.

  “Back up,” said Mike.

  Hazel scooted away on her own, and Ellis lifted me under the arms to help steady me. He walked backward, pulling me with him. Mike raised his pistol and fired a single bullet into the dead baby’s head. The shrill wailing stopped. The overbearing scent of rotten meat and feces began to mingle with that of a sickly-sweet odor.