The Virulent Chronicles Box Set

by Shelbi Wescott

  Without warning, Grant threw the van into park. The passengers jolted and shifted under the sudden stop; Darla groaned. Jumping out, Grant left everyone confused and silent and they watched as he ran, with his arms pumping, back toward the Playland parking lot.

  “What the—” Ethan started as Grant stumbled away from them.

  When Grant reached the other van in the lot, he opened the door and scavenged around; he found a receipt from a fast food restaurant and an eyeliner pencil. He scribbled a note and left it on the leather seat. Then he dropped the pencil to the ground, turned and ran back to the van. He slipped back into his seat, put the car in drive, and barreled down the road.

  He didn’t say a word to anyone about the brief detour. And no one asked.

  They drove south away from the crash site and the amusement park, straight down the Atlantic coastline, and then they cut west. Kymberlin had slipped out of view: the tower no longer visible along the horizon.

  Even as they traveled further away, they could hear the sound of an army of helicopters arriving in their wake. By the time Huck’s men inspected the shore and the decimated remains of the charred helicopter and came to the conclusion that no one had been on board at the time of the explosion (or the bodies had been swiftly carried out to sea—no one would be able to say with conviction which one was more likely), the van carrying the survivors would have passed into rural New Hampshire on their grand adventure out west. They would be rushing along the highways on a steady course to Wyoming, starting their new life together: as a little, but beautiful, patchwork family.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Scott’s faced remained pressed against the hot cement of the helipad. One of the guards pushed his foot squarely into Scott’s back while the other kept a gun aimed at his head. He was still and calm as he watched the helicopter drift toward the shore and out of sight. What a serendipitously cloudy day. Ethan’s face, so full of gratitude, shock, and fear played for Scott again and again. He had made them a napalm bomb—a simple act of chemistry. Creating it had required no great scientific mind—only a boyish curiosity and some basic understanding of combustion. It would, combined with the gasoline, decimate the helicopter. The thought made Scott feel warm and comforted. His final act on this earth had been to do what he had been trying to do from the beginning: help.

  Huck was coming.

  Gordy, too.

  And yet Scott didn’t feel afraid.

  Like a movie, he replayed the events of his life that culminated in this one moment. The job interview, the test, the proposal, the acceptance. The years of traveling to cities and bunkers, performing experiments on people who had sold their right to life to help others. Those people didn’t know that the people they had given their lives to protect were doomed as well. Scott’s virus was indiscriminating.

  The elevator doors opened and feet rushed forward, and stopped. Scott’s head was bleeding from the rough tackle to the ground, and his arm hurt. Maybe it was broken, but he didn’t think it mattered anymore.

  “Get him up,” Huck commanded.

  The guards grabbed him under his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. The Truman men stood before him. Veins throbbed in Huck’s neck and across his forehead; Gordy stood behind his father, just over his shoulder, and he stared at Scott blankly.

  “How dare you?” Huck asked with quiet anger. He stormed up to Scott and without hesitation spit squarely in his face. The stream of saliva traveled down Scott’s cheek and dripped from his chin. Then Huck turned to his guards and said, “Hit him.” One guard landed a punch in Scott’s stomach, and it knocked the wind out of him. He coughed and his body pulled him to the ground, but the men held him up.

  Huck paced.

  “You have told me so many times in the past that you understood our cause. And yet every single one of your actions recently has shown me that you are a liar,” Huck seethed.

  Gordy stepped forward, but Huck pointed a finger at his son and his face turned red.

  “Don’t you dare intervene,” Huck spat. He turned back to Scott, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Scott shook his head.

  “Nothing?” Huck let out a condescending laugh. “You aided and abetted kidnappers. You created a destructive device with the intent to harm my people. You allowed your son and your little...” Huck stopped. “What is Grant to you, Scott? Your little protégé...your little experiment.”

  “He deserved to live,” Scott said. He lifted his head to look at Huck fully. Huck was nothing; so slight, so fragile. He had caustic words and a mindless army to back him, but he had no power and no control over Scott anymore. “You rule with fear and anger. The people on these Islands will not follow you down a rabbit hole of merciless killing. Your empire will crumble and you will fail and I will only be sorry that I didn’t get to watch it happen,” Scott said.

  Gordy stepped forward. “Enough.”

  “Stay out of this,” Huck warned.

  “I said enough,” Gordy said again.

  “He dies,” Huck said.

  Gordy nodded. “I agree.”

  “And we hunt down the boys. Bring Teddy back safely and annihilate the others.”

  Gordy stood away from the group and looked out over the helipad. The helicopter was out of sight, and he scanned the cloudy horizon. “I’ll call all the pilots from the other Islands. They’ll be behind by twenty or so minutes, but we will get them. We can start a search mission—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of an explosion. It was a loud, rolling clap of thunderous noise. They swung their heads to the sound and watched as a plume of smoke erupted through the clouds. From their position they could see a fiery mass plummeting from the sky. Scott tried not to jump for joy. Instead, he twisted his face into surprise and cried out.

  “No!” he gasped. “No...” he whispered and he hung his head.

  “Oh,” Gordy breathed. “No, no.” His face went ashen and he pointed at the spot where the smoke was billowing. “There was a child on that helicopter. A child! Dear God…Blair…what will we tell Blair?” He covered his mouth with his hands and stood and looked out.

  Huck turned slowly to Scott. He stalked over and lifted his face upward.

  “You are hereby sentenced to death. For treason, aiding and abetting, possessing illegal materials, and for murder.” He walked to his son and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

  Scott wiggled under the firm hands of the guards.

  “Gordy,” Scott said, his voice firm. The son turned. “I accept my own fate, but my family had nothing to do with my actions. Do not punish them for my indiscretions...”

  Gordy looked to the ground.

  “Please,” Scott begged. “Promise me.”

  “You’ve earned no such promises,” Huck said and he stepped to the side.

  But Scott was unrelenting. “I gave you everything I had...my entire life and my family. You couldn’t have accomplished any of this without me. I gave you everything...and all I am asking for in return is safety for my family...that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “There would have been someone else,” Huck replied. He turned his back. “There is always someone else.” He turned to the guards. “Shoot him.”

  The guards loosened their grip and went for their weapons, and Scott seized the moment. He pulled away from them and took two large steps backward, and then he rushed to the edge. A small fence separated the helipad from the edge of the tower. Looking below, he could see nothing but gray. The ocean water from that height did not move or turn with the wind: it could have been cement beneath him—there was no way to see for sure. Ignoring Huck’s angry shouts and the guard’s warning shot in his direction, Scott climbed over to the ledge. The wind rushed around him and filled his ears with steady pounding.

  A shot rang out and it pierced Scott’s shoulder. The pain radiated down his arm and he held on to the railing. Tears stung his eyes and his clothes whipped around his body. He thought of Maxine—his perfect mate, t
he mother of his children. He thought of her strength, her resoluteness, and her power. When he first met her, he knew that he had to spend the rest of his life with her. He knew he would be a better man for making her his everything. They had made such beautiful children. Strong and brave. Tender and empathetic. They were amazing, despite his own shortcomings as a father.

  Another shot rang out and this time the bullet pierced his side. With all of his remaining strength, Scott pushed himself off the edge and let his body slip into a free fall. He could see the ocean below him, the rapidly approaching swirl of blue and gray and white foam. The hair on his arm stood on end and a buzzing, zipping, sound filled his ears. He closed his eyes. And smiled.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lucy heard the explosion and rushed to the glass. Their westward-facing window provided them a brief glimpse of black smoke spiraling downward into the sea and upward into the clouds. She gasped and placed her hands against the window and then spun to her mother. The King family gathered and watched the smoke, and they pushed their noses against the glass. Maxine placed her hand on Galen’s shoulder.

  “Oh my God,” Maxine whisper. “Tell me that was not what I think it was.”

  “Did a plane go down?” Galen asked. His breath fogged up the window in front of him. “What happened?” He shifted and turned to his mother. “Mom, was it them?” His lip trembled and he looked back out to the ocean, frozen.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” Maxine replied, her voice catching. “No. No. It’s nothing, come away from the window.” She pulled them each away and went to the wall, and with long pulls of the cord she shut the curtain, blocking out the natural sun and the view of the distant wreck outside.

  “Mom—” Lucy started, but Maxine raised a hand.

  “I can’t stay in this house,” her mother said. “With Ethan gone and your father out God knows where. I can’t.” She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, and she drank it in one gulp. Maxine filled the glass again and stood with her back to her children, holding the glass and staring at the wall.

  “Where will we go?” Harper asked.

  “Where do you want to go?” Maxine asked the girl without looking, and Harper beamed at the responsibility of choosing.

  “To the park!”

  Maxine set the full glass of water down on the counter and leaned over her map; she scanned and skimmed and then placed her finger on a small green square. “Perfect. We’ll go the park.” She lined them all up and inspected for socks and matching shoes. She made a joke about climate-controlled parks and not needing jackets and Lucy tried to smile.

  Everyone was quiet as they walked.

  Maxine led the way with Harper’s hand in her own and she kept her head up high. But when they reached the sky bridge, Lucy could tell that something was wrong. People passed by them with lowered heads, and there were whispers. A few people stared at Maxine and the brood with narrow eyes, judging them as they passed. A few looked sad. Mournful. One woman put a hand over her heart and looked down at Harper with her lopsided ponytails and made a small sound of pity.

  When they reached the end of the bridge and began to make their way to the elevator in the middle of the open atrium, they all heard the shouts and commands, which seemed to rain down on them from all directions.

  Lucy’s stomach dropped and she began to shake. She grabbed on to Galen and they stood there holding each other as the guards surrounded them, their guns lifted and in place. One guard even aimed his registered weapon at Harper. Still, Maxine stood up tall. She took one look at the men and turned to her children.

  “It’s fine,” she whispered. “Stand tall. Be still and stand tall.”

  A gangly man in a crisp blue uniform approached Mama Maxine and stood toe-to-toe with her; he crossed his arms and peered down at the family. More guards materialized from the corners and they formed a half-circle around the Kings. If a middle-aged woman and her five children garnered that much attention from the military, then Lucy couldn’t fathom how they would respond when faced with a real threat. She scanned the open atrium and saw a group of rubberneckers huddling near the elevator, watching the scene unfold. And she could see the concierge wringing her hands at her table and an expression of both concern and interest on her face.

  “Mrs. King,” the tall man said with an undercurrent of contempt. “We are authorized to hold you for questioning. Your family is restricted from gaining access to the towers at this time.”

  “We’re going to the park!” Harper told him. The man didn’t blink.

  “What is this about?” Maxine asked.

  Lucy marveled at the strength and calm in her mother’s voice. She gave no hint that she was unraveling, that she had said goodbye to her oldest son, that she had seen and heard the explosion out her window. All her life she had thought that her mom was unbreakable—an unstoppable force, a wealth of knowledge, wisdom, and power—but as she watched her mother stare at the guard in front of her, her jaw tight, her eyes exposing nothing of the pain inside, Lucy realized that the most important trait her mother possessed was being a good actress. She didn’t deny herself the opportunities to fall apart and feel pain, but she could control it. While anger and fear crept its way into Lucy’s features, while she trembled against her younger brother, she marveled at her mother’s confidence.

  Lucy took a deep breath and she thought of Grant.

  And Ethan.

  She thought of the fiery ball in the sky and the smoke.

  Something stirred in her, a voice of remembering: to die would be their only safe way to escape. Ethan had not breathed a word of their plan, but she knew the plan would involve a death. A ruse. A way to escape, fully.

  A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth and Lucy closed her eyes. She imagined her brother, Teddy, and Grant safe on the beach—reunited with the other survivors, and slinking away from the rubble. That is what she wanted to rest in; that is what she wanted to believe.

  “I’m sorry,” the guard said, but he didn’t sound sorry. His radio crackled. “Return to your house and wait, please.”

  “I will not,” Maxine said. “It’s a beautiful day on Kymberlin and I’m taking my kids to the park. I demand to talk with someone about this oversight.”

  The elevator dinged open and Huck and Gordy appeared on cue. They stepped off and looked at each other, and Maxine moved forward. She pushed her way past the guards and walked straight to their leader. The kids followed behind her, crowded around her arms and legs; they moved as one. Guns and eyes followed them.

  “Escort her to her house,” Huck said as Maxine approached.

  “Why can’t I access to the tower?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “I demand an answer.”

  Huck’s mouth twitched. Gordy slid between them and he tried to place his hands on Maxine’s shoulders to spin her back around, but she twisted out from under him and shot him a glare so penetrating that Gordy dropped his arms and retreated.

  “Explain,” she seethed.

  “Go home,” Gordy whispered. He was shaken. “Go home.” Then he added, “Please, Maxine...go home and be with your children. Someone will be with you shortly. Just go home, Maxine, your kids will need you.”

  His tone, his words, the frown on his face—Maxine knew. She read the truth between the lies, between the softness of his voice, from the way Huck looked at the ground, his fists in tiny balls at his side. She knew because of the whispers and the stares and the piteous strangers.

  “Look at me,” Maxine said to Huck. She sidestepped Gordy and a guard swooped in, pushing her back away from the leader. “If you have something to tell me, then you tell me. Don’t stand there and act like I don’t deserve to know the truth. Don’t stand there and act like my family means nothing to you. You owe me more than this. You owe me honesty.”

  Huck raised his head, his eyes flashing. “Honesty? The truth?” He shook his head. “What truth?” He walked away from her, and then turned at the last second.
First, he looked at Lucy, then to Maxine, finally to the younger kids. “Go home, Mrs. King. Just like my son asked. Go home before everyone here learns your truth...that your husband killed a child and then in a final act of cowardice...” Huck looked upward to the overcast sky and put his hand straight in the air. Then he whistled low and made his pointer finger swan dive. “His body is somewhere in the ocean and I have no desire to recover it. He will rot there, alone. Is that the truth you wanted? That your husband was a gutless pig? A worthless traitor who never deserved to see the beauty of my creation.” Gordy walked to his father and stood between him and the King family.

  “Father—” Gordy said, his voice low.

  “Dove to his death. Left you to pick up the pieces of a broken life. I hope you learn to hate him. Let the years harden your heart.” Huck pointed at her, a piece of spittle flew from his mouth.

  Gordy put his hand up, but Huck shook his head and waved his son away, undeterred.

  The twins whimpered and buried their heads, and Harper sucked her thumb, wide-eyed and unmoving. Lucy disentangled her hand from Galen’s and stepped between Huck and her mother. She rooted her feet firmly—her hands clenched by her side.

  “You don’t get to talk about my father that way,” Lucy snapped. She felt so instantly protective. Her fear of Huck was gone, dissolved in an instant, and she saw him for the shell of a human he truly was. She took another step forward and the guards shifted into place. “And don’t yell at my mother in front of her kids. Who’s the coward now? Who’s the gutless worm?” She tried to push past the guards; she strained against their arms, her hands formed into claws, and she batted at the air.

  They picked her up like she was a doll and moved her back into place.

  Huck laughed. “Go home, Lucy. Take your family home. And wait until I decide what the hell I’m supposed to do with you now.” Without another word, he stomped off and slipped inside the elevator and disappeared.