Tainted Reality (The Rememdium Series Book 2)

by Ashley Fontainne

  Nothing will be the same again. Ever.

  They made it past the toy aisle. Regina stopped, motioning for Jesse to freeze. A familiar, yet out-of-place sound, reached her ears. Holding her breath, Regina peeked around the end display.

  About ten feet away, crouched next to center display rack of vitamins, was a man dressed in a Malvern Police Department dark blue uniform. The noise she’d heard came from his leather Sam Brown belt while he moved to reposition himself. Though Regina couldn’t see his face, she recognized the thick mop of curly black hair, the black edges of a tribal tat peeking above the collar, and broad shoulders.

  Kyle Pender! Thank God!

  His arms were raised, his service weapon pointed toward the front. Even though the place was temperature controlled, Regina saw droplets of sweat on the back of his neck. Following the trajectory of the gun, she scanned the area to see if Kyle’s attention was locked onto yet another mangled corpse.

  Seeing nothing but rows and rows of makeup, hair products, and medicine, Regina contemplated the best way to signal to him without making noise. Turning back to Jesse, she held a finger to dry lips. Reaching past Jesse, Regina grabbed a small, pink stuffed bear from the shelf.

  Jesse mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

  Regina pointed to her chest and mouthed back, “Cop.”

  Jesse closed her eyes and nodded. Regina saw her shoulders sag with relief.

  Squatting down, Regina stole another peek. Kyle was still in the same position as though his boots were glued to the polished floors. With one swift move, Regina slid the pink toy across the floor. It stopped less than a foot in front of Kyle.

  The reaction was immediate. Kyle’s head moved a fraction toward the bear and then over his shoulder. Knowing her face was a swollen, bloody mess, Regina waved, motioning for him to come their way.

  Regina could see the fear then recognition on Kyle’s face as he lowered the gun. In seconds, his boots damn near silent against the floor, he rounded the corner.

  On instinct, Regina leaned in and brushed her lips against Kyle’s ear. “You okay?” Kyle nodded, his thick hair tickling Regina’s nose. He still smelled like ginseng and cloves, but with an additional undertone of musk from sweat. “Any others here?”

  Swapping positions, Kyle’s warm lips next to her neck, he replied, “Got ’em all gathered in the food locker in the back. I was headin’ to the front to take out those things.”

  Regina pulled back and shook her head. “Too many. Jesse knows the code to lock the glass doors. Follow us to customer service. I’ve got a plan to lure the bastards away from the entrance.”

  Kyle bobbed his head in agreement. He moved ahead, taking the lead, while Regina and Jesse followed in single file behind him.

  As they drew closer to the front of the store, they could hear the disgusting sounds from the entrance. The chomping, growling, funky-ass mewling bounced off the walls and high ceiling, amplifying the noise. The sickening sounds drowned out Bing Crosby’s White Christmas. Regina’s stomach rolled in protest. She imagined Jesse’s reaction was even worse.

  When the trio reached the customer service desk, Regina looked back at Jesse. She pointed to the door on the right with a key code box. Regina tapped Kyle on the shoulder. He stopped and let Jesse move to the front.

  Regina stood guard, machete above her head like a baseball bat, eyes scanning the empty checkout lines. The sounds of the keys being punched and the electrical ding when the correct code was entered seemed as loud as if someone yelled.

  In seconds, they were upstairs inside the main control area. Jesse tried to move past Kyle, but he held her back, motioning for her to stay put until the area was deemed safe. Regina locked the door behind them, and in practiced unison, backs pressed together, they swept the room.

  The only thing standing out that anyone had even been inside it was an uneaten pack of crackers and cold coffee on the edge of one of the desks.

  Regina lowered the machete then removed the satchel from Jesse’s back. After grabbing an air horn, she whispered, “Okay, baby. Get ready. We’re gonna make some noise and get those bastards outta here. Wait to punch in the code until my signal.”

  “Air horns? Oh, I’ve got a much better idea. Loud and bright,” Kyle interjected.

  Regina grinned after Kyle produced a set of car keys from his front pocket. “Your unit out there?”

  Kyle moved over to the small window no bigger than four bricks in size. “Yep. I’ll hit the remote and they’ll come a—well, lurchin’. Once they gather round, they’ll be easy to pick off.”

  Kyle reached for his gun but Regina stopped him. “No. If you start shootin’, the ones you don’t hit will just come right back. Reed, Walt and Martha Addison, and a few deputies will be here soon. They’re heavily armed, so let them take those monsters down. We’ve got to get to the back doors for when they arrive.”

  “Stop arguin’! I’m gonna lock those doors in five seconds no matter which way you use. I don’t want them gettin’ inside!” Jesse grumbled.

  Knowing her daughter was beyond the point of being on edge, Regina stepped back and nodded at Kyle. A grin of satisfaction spread across his mouth. “We’ll compromise.”

  Raising the key fob, Kyle clicked twice. The wail of the siren made Regina’s heart pound with excitement, like a Pavlov Dog. Moving next to Kyle, she stood on tiptoes and peered out the window.

  Kyle’s unit was decked out with extra blue lights and strobes. The entire black Charger was awash in a sea of blinding, white strobes and azure-colored spinning lights. Inside the quiet room, the lone siren sounded like twenty.

  Craning her neck to look left, Regina tried but couldn’t see the front of the store. The limited perception didn’t matter.

  The plan worked.

  In seconds, a few lumbering corpses appeared in her line of vision. Bloodied, battered, some missing limbs, others dragging broken legs and feet behind them, they staggered toward Kyle’s unit. Regina counted twenty just as Jesse tapped out the code and sealed the doors.

  The hungry mass swarmed around the car, blocking the view of the vehicle in seconds. Regina’s stomach rolled after realizing two of them wore outfits just like Kyle.

  “Thank God!” Jesse said after pushing the button to turn off the annoying Christmas music. “Okay, question: any of those things inside the store?”

  Jesse had directed the question to Kyle. He clicked the fob again and the blaring screech of the siren ended. Kyle stepped away from the window and moved over to the closest desk. After grabbing an unopened bottle of water, he guzzled half of it then offered some to Regina before answering.

  “Yes and no. Yes, there were, but I took care of them. Six of them were in pet care. Weird, huh? Guess they thought dog food was a good source of protein.”

  Jesse rolled her eyes. “That’s not even funny.”

  Ignoring the comment, Kyle continued. “Got the live shoppers to safety and then swept the rest of the store. We’re good. Thank God only a few of those mad munchers decided to shop at Walmart today.”

  “Did you leave the dead—?” Jesse whispered.

  Kyle nodded. “Didn’t have time to do anything else with them. Guess we’ll need to move them somewhere proper rather than all over the floor.”

  “Oh, no way. I’d puke,” Jesse remarked.

  Regina noticed Jesse was shaking, partly from being clothed in only thin pajamas, partly from stress. Reaching behind her, Regina yanked a sweater from the back of a computer chair and handed to her shivering daughter. Jesse gave a weak smile while donning the thick covering.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll take care of the cleanup,” Kyle said. He looked over at Regina and grimaced. “Parker, you really need to do somethin’ about your head. It’s bleedin’ like a stuck hog on a hot day.”

  Regina chuckled at Kyle’s inappropriate humor. “Mad Munchers? A description that’s pretty much on target. I wish people would stop commentin’ about my damn head! I’m fine!”


  Kyle leaned in closer, his dark blue eyes focusing on the gash. “You don’t look fine. You ain’t—?”

  Irritated, Regina took two steps back. “No, I’m clear. A few grunts smacked me around when I tried to stop them from shootin’ unarmed citizens. We ain’t got time for idle chit-chat, Kyle. How many people are in the back?”

  “I counted fifty. Mrs. Singleton is the last straggler. As far as I know, she’s still in automotive. Couldn’t get her to budge no matter how hard I tried. She told me to go and lock the door and leave her be. Stubborn old bat actually balled up her fist and punched me…in an area I’m sure she ain’t touched on another man in years!”

  Regina stifled a laugh. The image of the old woman slamming her wrinkled fist into Kyle’s junk flashed by. “We saw her. Got her and another young girl squirreled away in the waitin’ area. We’ll go get them out and meet you in the back. Everyone’s gonna have a job to do. We’ve got more people comin’. The military gave the orders to terminate everyone who hasn’t been tested. We don’t have much time. The troops plan on pullin’ out by noon.”

  The hint of color in Kyle’s cheeks vanished. “Say what?”

  Regina nodded. “I’ll explain it all in intricate detail later. We’ve got to move. It’s gonna be rough tryin’ to corral all those panicked people from the school and maintain some sort of control. Lootin’ is a real possibility once they arrive here. Where’s the rest of Malvern’s finest? We sure could use some help.”

  “Chief Hollingsworth left for Colorado two days ago with his wife. Lt. Barker is in charge. He took three other officers over to the hospital to help secure the place. Haven’t heard a word from him since they left the PD. Starkson and Kilpatrick are in the deer woods down near Poyen. I tried reachin’ them on their cells, but didn’t get through. Trenton and Gonzales were with me earlier. We were on our way to the nursin’ home on Sixth Street to take the elderly in for testin’ when we got a distress call from here. I made it—but as I’m sure you noticed earlier—Trenton and Gonzales didn’t.”

  Regina felt sick. “Ain’t many of us left, Kyle. Sheriff Calhoun is gone, but Allsop and Bailey are with us. Don’t know the status of the other deputies.”

  Kyle blanched and pointed to the door. “Good God, it just keeps gettin’ better and better.”

  The trio headed down the stairs when the rest of Kyle’s words sunk in.

  Regina froze as though she’d run into a brick wall.

  “It’s your head, isn’t it?” Kyle asked. He produced a bandana from his back pocket and dabbed at the gash.

  Regina pushed his hand away. “Kyle, did you say Mrs. Singleton hit you?”

  “Yeah, she was scared out of her wits. Called me some names I ain’t even said before to my worst enemy.”

  Pale cheeks. Aggressive behavior displayed by one of the kindest, good-natured souls on the planet. Shunned Jesse’s hug. Oh, shit! I didn’t see any blood on her, but I didn’t check for any bites or scratches!

  “Mom? What’s wrong?” Jesse whispered, instinctively moving closer.

  “Change of plans. We’ve got to get to Susie. Right now.”

  Regina barreled past the duo and ran to automotive, hoping Kyle was right about the building being secure.

  And praying her gut instinct about Mrs. Singleton was wrong.

  COMPLETE POWER FAILURE - Saturday - December 20th – 11:35 a.m. - Eastern Standard Time

  President-elect Ronald Krump’s penthouse suite was a flurry of noise and activity. Though spacious and used to extravagant parties full of over-dressed New York movers and shakers, seeing it full of countless Secret Service agents in a state of panic made Ronald’s stomach burn. He tried to ignore the din of mumbled voices while opening the desk drawer and grabbing a handful of antacids. The latest news—the unbelievable events—made his gut sour.

  “I will not leave here until all of my belongings are packed!”

  The high-pitched voice of his wife, Collette, was difficult to listen to on a good day. In the frenzied mood she was currently in, her squeaky voice seemed an octave higher. Collette Krump wasn’t a woman to be trifled with when on a mission.

  Period.

  Whether it was finding the perfect outfit to wear with the correct shoes and accessories, to decorative decisions regarding the apartment, no one dared stand in her way. Being told they were to evacuate the home she’d spent six years of her life picking out every single item crammed inside sent Collette into an emotional upheaval.

  If tabloid reporters were around, they would have labeled it a bitch fit.

  Ronald could tell Collette was about to snap.

  Collette’s thick, brunette hair, normally styled to perfection, was a mess. Tendrils escaped from the chignon she tried to create earlier and stuck to her thin, damp neck. Without her entourage of stylists to transform her from meager to mega, Collette looked rough. The expression he heard his grandfather say numerous times when he was younger popped inside Ronald’s mind.

  “That woman looks like she’s been ridden hard and put away wet.”

  Extra Secret Service agents arrived less than twenty-four hours prior and caught both Ronald and Collette in bed. Collette was in a deep sleep, induced by the handful of pills she downed every night. Ronald had crashed while working on his first-ever speech as the new President of the United States. When Agent Coleman woke them up with the dreadful news, both thought they were on hidden camera, a colossal joke played at their expense.

  Looking around at the frenzied scene in his home, Ronald wished it was a prank.

  Ronald let his gaze settle on his wife. Collette—sans makeup—didn’t have time to primp and preen herself when the agents broke the news about the outbreak. His wife of fifteen years actually fainted when the lead agent informed them the White House had been overrun, along with the Pentagon, CIA headquarters, and Wall Street. She didn’t get a chance to hear the exact details of what was going on, and still assumed a terrorist attack of some sort was the problem.

  Ronald struggled with the true facts and knew Collette would be a total basket-case if the truth was revealed to her. He’d instructed the agents to remain quiet and not answer any questions she posed. Thankfully, once Collette revived, she’d been preoccupied with packing up their belongings.

  He thought about the parties thrown on election night and after the Electoral Colleges met and cast their votes. Though less than a few weeks, it seemed ages ago. His childhood dream of sitting in the Oval Office as Commander-in-Chief of the greatest nation on earth had been only thirty days away. The thought of never getting to fulfill the dream made Ronald furious. It was akin to losing, and Ronald Eugene Krump despised failure.

  With no White House to lord over, Ronald wondered what location they were being evacuated to. No one would tell him anything except the place was secure. Originally, the plan was to remain in the penthouse under heavy guard, and once the government contained the situation at the White House and Pentagon, move him and Collette to PEOC. When one of the late-arriving agents appeared hours ago, the plan changed again. The man had been covered in blood and terrified, shaking as he retold the story of his escape and the utter and complete decimation of all high levels of government personnel. According to the agent, all of D.C. and most of the east coast were filled with thousands of reanimated corpses. The rest of the globe was in the same, deplorable state.

  All of the news was mind-numbing, but the one tidbit that sent Ronald into an almost catatonic state was the CDC. According to Agent Coleman, the only hope to figure out what was bringing the dead back to life was gone. Somehow, several of the undead made it inside, and within three hours, the high-tech Atlanta facility was nothing more than an overpriced mausoleum.

  Ronald felt his stomach churn. The antacids weren’t helping.

  So much for worrying about how to handle ISIS. Or immigration issues. Or the economy. Or healthcare. Or global warming. Gun control. Violence in the streets. The world just collapsed in on itself. Will I even have a country
to run before this nightmare ends?

  He stood and moved through the throng of agents, all of whom ignored Collette’s outburst. Most were too busy staring out the windows, watching the chaos unfold on the streets of Manhattan. The remainder of them lugged suitcases out the front door, on their way to the roof.

  “Darling, don’t worry. These men are professionals. They will take care of our needs, including making sure our treasures are pampered and secured.”

  Agent Coleman, who’d been assigned to guard them the minute Ronald won the Democratic nomination, scowled. “Sir, we aren’t your local movers. We are here to gather essential items only. We leave in five minutes. The helicopter just landed on the roof.”

  Collette’s eyes narrowed into small slits. When angry, they turned from lime green to vibrant teal. Ronald knew a verbal explosion was about to spew from her silicone-plumped lips. Agent-in-Charge Coleman was about to have about three pounds of his ass ripped off from a mouth full of enough dental work to buy a small house.

  “How dare you! You do realize I’m the First Lady, correct?”

  Agent Coleman’s face was bright red, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on the top of his lip. He no longer wore his jacket, and the stains of perspiration discolored the white of his shirt under the armpits. Though he’d been busy barking orders and instructions to the other men, he had yet to raise his voice to either of the Krump’s.

  Until now.

  Agent Coleman grabbed Collette by the arm and shoved her toward the bedroom. “I am well aware of your title, Mrs. Krump. But, if we don’t get you both out of here and safely underground, you won’t have to worry about what expensive ensemble to wear to President Krump’s inauguration. Dead people don’t concern themselves with such trivial events.”

  The look of shock on Collette’s face would have made Ronald chuckle any other time. Her face was stretched tight from numerous facelifts and countless injections of chemical fillers. The only way to really tell if she was angry was the color of her eyes. Ronald was the only one who’d ever spoken to Collette in such a rude manner, and it never boded well when he did. Credit card charges skyrocketed and their bedroom became colder than the grave.