Lake Yixa

by Harper, Cameron

  Lake Yixa

  by

  Cameron Lee Harper

  Copyright © 2014, Cameron Lee Harper

  Editing by Courtney Umphress

  www.courtneyumphress.com

  Cover art by Thailia Barbea Publishing

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via internet or by any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States by Cameron Lee Harper 2014

  Thanks to my family and friends.

  Liam

  The old, blue, beaten-up pickup bucked and rocked as it sped down the dirt road leading out of Moosetan, Washington. Liam spun the knob on the radio this way and that. Hissing and crackling filled the tiny cab.

  "Breaking . . ." The radio hissed and crackled again. "I repeat: breaking deals down . . ." The radio lost signal again. "Fuck it," Liam said as he picked up a small cassette tape and flipped it to side A. In handwritten letters, it said: Best of Country. He shoved it into the radio and cranked up the volume. Soon, Willie Nelson filled the air. Dust flew up behind the small truck as Liam hit the gas and sang along. He never saw the man who came running out of the forest screaming. The dust and the blaring of the music drowned out the man's cries for help. About thirty minutes later, Liam pulled up to his tiny, one-bedroom cabin he shared with Tux, his black-and-white cat. He stopped out front and grabbed the bag of supplies from the back of the pickup truck.

  "Tux, I'm home," he said as he pushed the door open. He felt Tux pushing up next to the door, meowing as Liam walked in. "I wasn't gone that long," he said, pushing him back with one heavy and battered boot. Liam closed the door behind him, flipped the light on, and dropped the supplies on the small chair next to the fireplace. He snapped on the TV and headed to the bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he walked.

  "Late breaking news: tens of thousands across the United States have become sick, seemingly overnight. Scientists are shocked and baffled by the rapid rate at which it is spreading. It is still unclear what is causing people to become sick." Liam stopped in his tracks and stuck his head out of the bedroom. "A few groups of scientists in the UK believe the illness is linked to over-processed foods. The illness has already started to show up in eight other countries."

  Liam glanced over at his own bag of chips sticking out of his supply bag. He shook his head and headed back into his bedroom, stopping to look at himself in a large mirror that sat above an old, stained dresser. Liam traced the deep lines that crossed his face. He was getting on in years. He never thought he would see the age of forty, let alone sixty. But he made it about a month back. Tired and run down, but still going. He looked up at the small photo taped to the corner of the mirror. A much younger Liam stood with a beautiful wife and son.

  So long ago, he thought. His eyes moved to the next photo taped to the mirror. A faded army picture. He stood there, flexing his right arm with a group of five others. Liam looked down at the tattoo on his right arm. It was a bit faded, but he still could see the fireflies drawing and the word Fireflies with the date 1952 under it. Liam turned and headed back out as he pulled a shirt on. He sat down and flipped through the channels on the TV until he found one on UFOs. Liam soon found himself falling asleep.

  Thump, thump, thump . . . Liam awoke with a start, only to find Tux’s favorite show. He flipped through a few channels—all snow.

  "Liam! Help!" Thump, thump, thump. A voice shouted from outside the door.

  "Coming," he said as he got up and tossed the remote onto his chair. As he opened the door, Tommy pushed it open and burst in.

  "Hey, now, boy. What’s the meaning of this?" he said, turning to look at the boy. Tommy was about thirteen years old, if Liam remembered right. His short, blond hair was covered with sweat, his light blue eyes wide with fear.

  "Help!" the boy shouted. Liam could clearly see something was wrong. Tommy looked to have run all the way here through the woods. Dirt, leaves, and a few twigs stuck out of his clothing and hair.

  "What’s wrong?" Liam asked, his voice changing to concern.

  "Someone broke into the house. He looked mad. I could hear him screaming and yelling at Mom—" Tommy was saying when Liam cut him off.

  "Get to the truck," he said as he turned and grabbed a rifle that sat above the door. The two quickly climbed into the truck. Liam gunned it backward and whipped it around. He shot down the road, sending dirt and rocks flying.

  "What else happened?"

  "I saw Dad rush in after him, and I heard the pop of a handgun. That's when I ran over here." The boy was clearly shaken by it all. It only took about ten minutes for Liam to get there. As they rounded the last bend in the road, they saw the flashing lights of cop cars and an ambulance sitting out front. Liam shut off the truck and looked over at the boy.

  "Stay here." With that, he got out, leaving his rifle behind. He walked toward the porch where he could see Marsha sitting on the swing he had put in a few summers back. As he headed up the front steps, he saw the front door screen. It looked as if a beast had smashed through it. The screen itself was ripped wide open, and the frame was only hanging on by a hinge. He looked over to see Marsha's light blue dress spotted with blood.

  "Marsha, are you okay?" he asked. Marsha seem startled by the sound. She looked at him with a slight smile and stood up.

  "Oh, Liam," she said, her voice cracking from emotions as she hugged him. "Have you seen Tommy? We can't find him. I'm—" she started to say.

  "He’s in my truck. He ran over to my house to get me." As if on cue, Tommy came running up.

  "Mom!" he shouted. Liam stepped out of the way as Marsha wrapped her arms around her son.

  "What happened?" Liam asked as the two sat down, still in a half-hug.

  "Ben just ran into the house as I was cleaning the living room. He was shouting and screaming, and he seemed like he had been drinking again. I screamed, and Frank came running in. Ben had a knife and took a swing at Frank, so Frank shot him. It only hit him on the shoulder, but he still tried to attack Frank. We were able to get him to the floor and tie him up," she said, looking up at Liam.

  Liam turned to look at the open door where low, muffled sounds of yelling came from.

  "I'm going to go talk to Frank, if you don't mind." She nodded. With that, Liam turned and headed toward the door.

  "Liam." Frank nodded as he saw Liam come in. "The bastard bit me," he said, holding up his hand and revealing a white, blood-soaked medical cloth that covered the wound. "I saw him stumble out of the woods. Then he just took off at a dead run toward the house."

  Liam sat down in a chair across from him. He could see a few officers in the kitchen. "Calm down, Ben. We are here to help you," said one of the officers.

  "Let me get the tranquilizer," an EMT said as he moved past the door. Liam was kind of taken aback by the sounds coming from Ben. It sounded more like a caged animal than a drunken man. Sounds of hissing and low growls came from the man on the floor.

  "They said I will have to ride into town with them to get my hand checked out." Frank took a moment before continuing. "Anyway, could I get a ride back with you? I don't want Marsha to drive after dark. She’s all shaken up."

  "Yeah, sure." The two of them sat
there, watching through the door as the EMTs lifted Ben up, his chin resting on his chest. A mix of blood and saliva dripped from his mouth. Ben’s shirt was covered in blood, along with his face.

  "Shit," Liam muttered.

  "Yeah. Not all that blood is mine, too."

  "Let's go, Frank." An EMT walked over to where they were sitting. The group headed out of the house, and Liam followed behind them.

  Ben was loaded into the back of the ambulance, along with Frank, an officer by the name of John, and the EMT, whom Liam only knew as the Williston's kid. He watched as the cop car and the ambulance headed off down the dirt drive. Liam let Marsha know that he would get Frank and not to worry; her husband would be okay. Then he, too, headed off toward town.

  It wasn't long before Liam found himself sitting in the hospital emergency room. He was one of two people sitting. There was a young woman who looked to have just climbed out of a ditch somewhere. Liam couldn't place her, but she did look really familiar. Oh well, he thought as he turned to thumb through an old magazine. He read off the titles of a few articles: "The Health Risk of Over-Processed Food," "Eat Yourself Thin: Myth or Reality?," "Processed Foods and Their Health Benefits." It couldn't have been more than a few minutes when the entrance door slid open and a set of EMTs came rushing in. At the same time, doctors and nurses came running from down the hall.

  "Another bite victim," one EMT said.

  "Ripped a chunk right out of her external jugular vein," the other said. He was holding a cloth to her neck.

  "Take her to Room Three."

  Liam watched as they disappeared around a corner. As if the flood gates of madness had been opened, people started to flow in. Bitten, clawed, ripped, and mangled people stumbled in on their own power or by help. Liam could name most of them.

  The town of Moosetan wasn't a big place. It was early spring, and only a handful of tourists had started to trickle in. Moosetan sat on the southern end of Lake Yixa. It was a small, sleepy town in fall and winter, but come mid-to-late spring into summer, the town population size doubled, if not tripled in size. Liam had grown up in Moosetan, and not many people moved away. He was the local handyman and could fix just about anything if he knew how. Even if he didn't, he would find a way to get it done.

  "Can't believe that guy just attacked us like that," a woman who was sitting behind Liam said.

  "Yeah, what a fucking lunatic," The man with her agreed. "I almost think he was trying to bite me."

  Liam looked around and wondered what the hell was going on. When he saw Frank, he stood up.

  "Hey, you going to be all right?" Liam asked.

  "Yeah, Doc gave me some meds and stitched it up. I have to wear this damn thumb thing." Frank looked as if he were giving the thumbs up. "He says I won't be able to bend it very good when it’s healed. Ben did a good job of messing up my ligaments."

  "Let’s get you home. I'm sure Marsha is worried about you." Liam and Frank headed toward the lot.

  It was a quiet ride back; Frank wasn’t saying much, and Liam wasn't much of a talker at times. The two men just sat there, bouncing along in the old Ford pickup truck. As they pulled up to the house, Liam turned to Frank.

  "I will come by tomorrow to fix your screen door."

  "I can't afford that. I will just do it when my hand gets better."

  "No worries, it's on me. I'm just glad everyone is safe. Wouldn't mind a home-cooked meal though." Liam didn't really care about the cooked meal, but folks around Moosetan didn't like to be in debt. He always offered to do work in exchange for some home cooking.

  "Sure, I will let Marsha know that you will be coming for an early dinner." With that, Frank stepped out of the parked truck. Liam pulled away and watched Frank head into the house. Liam felt tired. He didn't really do a lot today, but old age seemed like it was finally catching up to him.

  Liam awoke around 8:30 the next morning. He set about doing his early morning routine—a single hard-boiled egg smashed onto two toasted and buttered slices of bread. He poured a small cup of dry cat food for Tux and sat down to watch the news.

  "Son of a bitch," Liam said aloud, making Tux stop eating and look at him. The TV was still without a signal. He wondered if wind or birds had knocked over his antenna. He spent the rest of the morning climbing up and down a ladder, trying to fix the antenna. Every now and then, he would hear the crash of something big in the woods not too far off from his house. He stood there on his roof, trying to spot what it was. A moose? A bear? He had seen a few bears lately on his way to town. It was a bit unsettling to him. He wasn't too fond of bears. In fact, he had a recurring nightmare about a bear trying to kill him. He stood there wishing he had his rifle or at least his handgun. The rifle wasn't too far. He had left it in the truck last night, but still, a bear could close the distance before he got to it. He continued to scan the woods. The sound had long faded away.

  But something didn't feel right. The lack of bird calls and the deathly silences that now filled the air made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  "Something ain’t right," he said softly. He made his way toward the ladder and was about to climb down when the roaring and crashing of a bear filled the air. He scrambled to the top of the roof. The brown bear wasn't the biggest bear he had seen, but it was still a scary sight. He was always told it was pretty easy to scare them off. It had always worked in the past. He just had to yell as loud as he could.

  "AHHHHH!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. This didn't seem to help the matter at all. The bear charged around the house, grunting and letting out cries of rage.

  "Holy fuck, has he attacked someone else?" Liam asked himself. The bear’s mouth was covered in blood, and a small piece of cloth dangled from its open mouth. He watched from the top of his roof, studying the bear the best he could. Its weird behavior didn't help. The bear ran this way and that. It even clawed the side of his truck and bit off one of his side mirrors. The bear suddenly stopped in its tracks as though it only just noticed Liam. Now that it had stopped, he could clearly see that the bear was covered in what seemed to be blood, but its brown fur made it hard to really tell. It charged toward the house, smashing into the wall and clawing and trashing the side of the building. The ladder came crashing down, and the bear let out a roar as it attacked it. It returned to trying to get onto the roof. The tips of its claw peeked over the edge.

  "Oh, God," Liam let out. The bear kicked its legs and dug in with its claws on the side of the building as it started to pull itself up. The bear had almost pulled half its body onto the roof. Liam looked past him to where his truck was sitting. There was no way he would get to his rifle in time. He turned and started down the opposite side from where the bear was climbing up. He could hear the bear’s heavy breathing and low growls coming from the other side of the roof. He looked over the side. It wasn't that far of a drop, but at his age, he could break a hip and really be fucked. He turned to see the bear’s head poke over the top of the roof.

  "Shit." With that, he dropped down to the roof and swung his legs out over the open air. The bear let out a roar and charged down the roof. He let himself drop the few feet to the ground. He hugged the side of the house as the bear sailed overhead, mouth snapping and claws swinging. Liam scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could. He rounded the corner of the house before the bear had even recovered from the fall. He rushed in the front door just as Tux went flying out the door, hissing.

  "No!" Liam yelled as he watched Tux stop in front of the bear. Liam ran to his bedroom where he kept his handgun. Liam pulled out the Browning from the desk, popped the clip in, and rushed back outside. He could hear hissing coming from Tux, along with the roar of the bear. Liam feared what he would see of his beloved cat.

  Liam saw the bear smashing its large head onto his truck, its paws swinging wildly underneath, trying to find Tux. Liam fired. Pop. The bear didn't seem to notice. It was a good hit, Liam thought as he fired another two rounds. Still, the bear paid no notice of him or the bullets
as they struck. Pop, pop, pop, pop. The bear still stood, but it had finally noticed Liam standing there and started to charge. Liam opened up with the remaining six shots. A few of the rounds struck hard into the bear’s skull, sending it crashing to the ground, dead. It slid, only stopping within feet from where Liam stood. Liam sat down in the front door, looking at the bear as blood poured from its skull. Tux came walking up and hissed at the bear once before continuing on to Liam.

  "Holy shit," was all Liam could say. It was some time before he got up to call Frank to let him know he wouldn’t be making it this afternoon. The phone just rang and rang. Liam wasn't happy about going over after the bear attack, but he could not just blow Frank off. He gathered a few things and loaded them into the truck. The bear had done a number on the body work on one side, but overall, he just needed to fix the mirror sometime. Finally, before he left, he turned his attention to the dead bear. He slowly walked over to it and pushed it with his boot. It was dead. He reached down and grabbed hold of its hind legs. He pulled hard, and the bear slowly slid along. He pulled it to the far side of the driveway. "I will deal with you later," he said as he threw a tarp over it. Then he set a few heavy stones to keep the tarp from blowing away. He grabbed the rifle from the truck and put it in the house. Liam grabbed the Browning sitting on the small table by the door. He jumped into his truck and tossed the handgun into the glove box.

  It wasn't as fast of a drive as last night, but he made good time. As he pulled up to the Millers’ house, he saw no sign of Frank, Marsha, or Tommy. Their truck and car were parked in the driveway still, so Liam sat in his truck, watching the house.

  "Guess no one is home." He reached out to turn the key when he saw Frank shamble by the window. "Damn." With that, he pulled the key out and headed for the door.

  Knock, knock, knock. Liam stood there waiting. He could hear Frank moving around inside.

  "Frank, it’s Liam." Liam waited for a reply, but only a low moaning sound was returned. "You okay, Frank?" Liam wondered if the wound Ben had given him was worse off than he thought. Liam looked in the window by the door. It was dark; only a few shafts of light came in from the windows. He looked around the tiny living room until he saw what looked to be Marsha lying on the ground.