Threshold Series (Book 1): Threshold

by Luquer, David

  Since losing her husband four years ago Joanne had found her means of coping with that loss by rushing into the arms of other men, mostly married men like Tim Harris. Tim was ten years younger than her which was not at all unusual for her.

  Looking at Joanne, no one would ever believe she was forty-seven years of age. Her hair was still free of gray hair and her face barely showed the typical signs of aging. Her figure could rival that of any twenty-five-year-old and attracting younger men was never a problem for her. She often noticed them looking at her in the supermarket or in the gas station, many even gawking. She had to admit, it was very flattering.

  A smile crossed her lips when she heard the knock at the door. Tim had arrived right on time. She hadn’t done her hair and makeup for nothing, after all. Dressed in only her pink bathrobe, Joanne extinguished her cigarette and went to greet her guest.

  “Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door slightly, making sure her bathrobe was opened enough at the top to show off a generous amount of cleavage.

  “I heard you were looking to hire a handyman for a couple of hours,” Tim answered. “I thought I might take the job.”

  “Did you bring a hammer?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? You going to make me check for myself?”

  “I just might?”

  “Then get your ass in here.” She said, stepping back from the door, allowing him to enter.

  They kissed as he stepped inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He opened her robe, moving his hands inside it. His fingers moved up her sides and onto her breasts.

  “You won’t need this anymore,” he said, sliding the robe off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

  * * * *

  Pulling the car onto the side of the road in front of the park, Rob climbed out, Jim and Reverend Brighton following behind. He scanned the area, looking someone resembling Jeremy Collins, feeling silly for coming out here in search of a dead man. It had to be a mistake. John couldn’t really have seen Jeremy in the park. The dead don’t come back to life.

  “He said he saw him down by the river,” Jim said. “I’ll run down and check along the bank.”

  “Be careful and let us know if you if you find anything,” Rob said.

  “You mean like a dead guy?”

  “That’s not funny, Jimmy.”

  Rob and the reverend walked toward the pavilion at the center of the park. It was old and covered in spray paint graffiti. Broken glass glittered from the edges of the concrete pad it rested on, remaining evidence of dozens of late-night parties. Rob had been called to break up a few of these gatherings, often receiving noise complaints.

  “Hey, Reverend, doesn’t the Bible say something about the dead coming back to life at the end of the world?” Rob asked.

  “Well, it says the dead in Christ shall rise, but I don’t think that means dirt covered zombies,” The reverend answered.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I doubt we’re really going to find Jeremy Collins walking around out here, Sheriff.”

  Arriving at the pavilion, they looked inside before entering. Cigarette butts, empty liquor bottles and used condoms littered the corners but no dead man wandering around within. Rob made a mental note to have the caretaker clean this place up a little better next time.

  “There’s nothing here but the spiders,” Rob muttered. “It looks like old John was loony after all.”

  “I’m not sure what we honestly expected to find out here,” Brighton said. “I’m sure John saw something, but there’s no way he could have seen a dead man walking around.”

  “Well, let’s get Jim and head back to the station. There’s not much else we can do here.”

  A scream stopped them in their tracks, causing both men to look at each other. Rob was certain the scream had come from Jim. His pulse sped up as he waited until he could form words.

  “What was that?” Brighten asked.

  “It’s Jimmy,” Rob answered. “He sounds like he’s in trouble. Wait here.”

  “If it’s all the same, I’d rather stay with you,” the reverend said.

  “Your call. Try to keep up.”

  He and Brighton took off running, exiting the pavilion and heading toward the river.

  As they neared the grassy bank, they came to a sudden halt. Rob’s eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at.

  It was Jeremy Collins.

  The man was dirty, dressed in a black suit. His eyes were open, now completely clouded over. His hair was long and in disarray, like a black mop on his head. Whatever his appearance, there was no doubt about it, this man should be in a coffin instead of walking around.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Brighton asked.

  “It’s Jeremy, but I don’t understand how it’s possible,” Rob said, his mouth dry.

  Jeremy had ahold Jim with both hands. Jim tried to struggle free but Jeremy was pulling him closer, trying to get his arms wrapped around the deputy. Before Jim could break free the dead man threw his head forward, his lips drawn back from blood-crusted teeth.

  Rob quickly drew his pistol and fired three shots into Jeremy, but apart from a jerking motion each time a bullet hit him, the shots had little effect. All he could do was watch as Jeremy brutally killed Jim, sinking his teeth into him and ripping the flesh from his neck. Blood spurted in all directions, spraying both Jim and the dead man.

  Rob unloaded the rest of his ammunition into Jeremy, but the corpse kept upright and began moving toward them, releasing his hold on the deputy and letting his now pulsating body crumple to the ground, lifeless apart from the twitching.

  “I think we better go now,” Brighton said.

  “What about Jimmy?”

  “He’s dead, let’s go!” Brighton yelled, snapping Rob from his half-mesmerized state.

  Rob finally got his senses about him, and the two men ran as fast as they could to the car, leaving the walking corpse of Jeremy Collins to shuffle slowly after them.

  * * * *

  Joanne was straddling Tim, gently moving back and forth in her own rhythm, closing her eyes as she felt his hands move to her breasts. She leaned down and kissed his neck.

  “Don’t leave any marks,” He said. “My wife would kill me if I go home with a hickey.”

  “Don’t worry,” She said, moving her lips up to his ear. “I won’t leave any evidence.”

  A crash downstairs made her stop. She looked toward the bedroom door, listening for the sound to repeat. Only silence came from the other side of the door. Still, there had definitely been a noise, one which caused her alarm.

  “What the hell was that?” She asked.

  “It was nothing,” he said. “Don’t stop now.”

  “Are you sure it was nothing?”

  He gave her a smack on the hip. “I’m positive. Stop worrying and get back to work.”

  She started her rhythm again, forgetting about the noise. She closed her eyes and leaned her head forward, letting her long brown hair fall across her face. Her body glistened with a layer of sweat which seemed to shine in the light.

  Another crash caused her to stop again, this time climbing off Tim. “I know I heard something that time.”

  “Did the wind blow something through the window?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, go check.”

  “Great, you want me to go down there like this?”

  “Just go take a look. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you get back.”

  “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

  As he left the room, she heard the sound of broken glass being crunched beneath the hard soles of shoes. Joanne knew then that it was an intruder, not just the wind knocking things over. She prayed it was nobody they knew. The last thing she needed was for his wife to find out he was at her place with no clothes on. Still, she was not about to go check for herself, even if they were to get caught. Fear kept her inside the room.

  Tim suddenly began screaming. J
oanne grabbed the blanket and pulled it to her chin, realizing it would offer her no protection. The sounds of a struggle filled her with fear. There was no way to get passed the intruder, unless she wanted to jump out the window and break her legs when she hit the ground.

  “Tim,” she called out.

  The only response she received was another scream, this time more intense. It trailed off to a gurgling sound before ending in nothing but silence. She waited, whimpering and gripping the blanket.

  After she was sure she’d waited long enough, Joanne ran down the stairs to the living room. The site she found waiting for her horrified her, stopping her in her tracks at the bottom of the steps. She tried to scream but no sound came out at first.

  Tim was dead, his body now being torn to shreds by three gore-covered intruders.

  She recognized one of the intruders as Fred Parsons, though he looked like he was dead. The other man and the woman she did not recognize, but they looked as bad a Fred. The sight of them devouring pieces of Tim’s flesh caused her to vomit. Her stomach contents splashed onto the floor and down the front of her.

  Why?” she screamed before her stomach lurched again.

  Before she could recover her senses, the intruders were upon her, as well.

  CHAPTER fOURTEEN

  Helen dropped the basket, unable to believe what she was seeing. It seemed entirely impossible that her grandmother could be standing at the tree line, staring back at her. She showed no signs of being coherent, but it was definitely Abigail, and she was definitely moving around on her own. She still wore the black dress she was garbed in when they’d placed her in the casket, though it was dirty now as if she’d been rolling around on the ground.

  Helen could only stare as the hawks began swooping down at Abigail, tearing off small pieces of flesh and returning skyward, their raw prizes hanging from their beaks. None of the injuries inflicted on the woman by the birds bled and the old woman seemed not to even notice the quick assaults, showing no signs of pain on her face.

  She stood frozen in place for what seemed like an eternity before finally letting out a scream. She dropped to her knees, her hands going to her face.

  It’s just a nightmare, she thought. Nothing more than a fucked-up nightmare.

  There was no other explanation for it. After all, she’d seen her grandmother buried only yesterday. Helen continued screaming until her throat was raw and sore. Her parents came running from the house, letting the back door slam behind them as they tore out onto the lawn. They both stopped short at the sight awaiting them.

  Helen glanced back at her mother, hearing her begin to whimper. Before she could stop her, Bernice ran toward the woman, arms outstretched, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Abby,” she cried as she approached the woman. “Oh my God, Abby.”

  Helen watched in horror as her mother ran toward the thing she knew could not possibly be her grandmother. She looked to her father, now wearing the same terrified look on his face.

  “Bernice,” her father yelled. “Come back here!”

  He ran after her and grabbed her arm before she could reach Abigail. Helen tried to stand, to run and help her father but her fear kept her from moving. She was frozen to the spot by a terror that barely allowed her to breathe.

  “Richard, it’s her! It’s Abby!” Bernice said, trying to pull free from his grip.

  “Mom is dead, Bernice! Please calm down!”.

  Helen finally managed to get to her feet, pushing the fear back and rushing to help her father restrain the hysterical woman. Abigail drew closer, her arms stretching out before her. It appeared she wanted to embrace Bernice, yet Helen had a strong feeling it was something else entirely.

  Bernice broke free of Richard’s grasp. “Let me go! Let me go to her!”

  “Bernice, no!” Richard yelled before once again pursuing her.

  He managed to catch her again when they were a few feet away from Abigail. He pulled her back by her arms. Before he could manage to get his wife far enough away, Abigail had ahold of him. She sank her fingers into the flesh of his arms, pulling him to her and clamping her teeth onto his cheek. He yelled as blood ran down his face and neck, staining his t-shirt.

  “Dad!” Helen yelled as she watched her father bleed.

  Richard dropped to his knees while his mother clawed his eyes from their sockets, blood pouring down his face. She moved her hand to her mouth, one of his eyeballs grasped between her finger and thumb before she popped it into her mouth.

  Helen and Bernice screamed as they ran the rest of the way to the house, slamming the door shut behind them and locking it. Helen knew it was too late for father. They had to save themselves now.

  * * * *

  Joel looked up at the clock in the lab. Two more hours left and he’d nearly finished his work. If he didn’t need the hours in his paycheck he would have asked to leave early. Instead, he decided to check expiration dates, inventory and anything else he could find to keep himself busy.

  Things would slow down for the laboratory animal technicians for a while. Going back to formulation only increased the workload for the doctors and chemists. He dreaded the boring time, preferring to remain busy. He could always sort through his thoughts better when he was working. However, the downtime would give him a little time to investigate.

  Moving to the file cabinet, he pulled out the forms which had been completed during the destruction of the PEF07 stock. This seemed like a good place to start. As far as he knew, no one had compared the file against the original stock record they kept in the laboratory pharmacy. Completing this task would save Julie from having to assign it to a technician tomorrow. It would also give him a chance to satisfy his curiosity or suspicion.

  Taking the forms into the pharmacy, he began pulled out the stock record to match up the numbers. He’d barely started when Julie walked in. She looked tired, having put in a lot of extra hours over the past few weeks. He’d work alongside her but she held more responsibilities on her shoulders, making her job more stressful than his.

  Even when she was tired she was very attractive. Joel smiled without realizing it. They’d shared connection since they’d met, an undeniable draw toward each other. At first, he thought it was merely a professional connection, though now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Why don’t you just wrap it up and we can leave early,” Julie said. “We can get stop for an early dinner, my treat.”

  “I just want to finish this first,” he said.

  “I can always do that tomorrow.”

  He barely heard her, looking at the calculations for both sheets. “Are you sure they counted these numbers right?”

  “Yeah, each vial and flask had to be listed. They wrote the batch code for each one on the disposal sheet.”

  She went to the office, grabbed the disposal report and brought it back to him. He added up the number for the records he had and then figured the sum of the batch codes on the sheet she’d just given him. He stared at the calculations a moment, positive he hadn’t made the same mistake twice.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” he said. “Otherwise, my suspicion is true.”

  “It’s right, Joel.”

  He looked at her, seeing concern on her face. “Two vials are unaccounted for.”

  “What?” She said, grabbing the sheets from him.

  “Everything else matches up, but there are two vials that aren’t listed as destroyed.”

  “Which two?” she asked, looking from one paper to the next.

  Joel ran to the refrigerator in the main lab, moving stuff around on each shelf. He began pulling items out and placing them onto the table behind him, feeling more nervous with each second. When he’d emptied the refrigerator, he stood back, running his fingers through his hair. They weren’t here.

  “Oh, my God,” Julie said behind him. “It’s the vials we used to inject the test group with.”

  “Yes, and we barely used any of it,” he s
aid.

  “If they weren’t destroyed, where the hell are they?”

  He started putting the stuff back into the refrigerator before stopping and facing her. “They were in Doctor Johnson’s trunk.”

  “We need to tell Doctor Blake,” she said, grabbing his arm. “We need to find him, now. If this stuff got out of the building, we have no idea what will happen.”

  “Who do you think he’ll believe?” Joel asked. “Do you think they will believe a doctor or a technician?”

  “We have to do something.”

  “Whatever we do won’t stop what may already happen,” Joel pointed out. “If an animal drank the rainwater contaminated with this stuff, it’s already too late.”

  “Are you suggesting we do nothing?” she said in amazement.

  “I’m saying we tell Doctor Blake when we have him alone and he seems receptive.”

  She stared at him a moment before nodding in agreement. He wasn’t sure he was right but he didn’t want to be pushed aside as a hysterical young man, either, given his well-known dislike for Doctor Johnson.

  It was better to move forward cautiously. Besides, he had a plan that would be his one attempt to get Johnson to admit it himself.

  * * * *

  Shirley had just sat down at her desk when the phone rang.

  “Sheriff’s Office,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

  “Shirley! Oh my God, it’s Helen Jones. We need Sheriff Daniels here fast.”

  “Helen, what’s wrong, sweetie?” Shirley tried to sound calm, though Helen sounded near hysterics.

  “Shirley, it’s an emergency! Dad’s been attacked! Please send Sheriff Daniels as quickly as possible.”

  She bolted upright in her chair. “I’m calling him now, you hold tight. Are you in any danger until he arrives?”

  The line went dead before she received an answer. She hung up and quickly dialed Rob’s cellular phone number. It rang four times before he finally answered.

  “Sheriff Daniels,” he said.