Detour: Book Two of the Humanity's Edge Trilogy

by Paul B. Kohler

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books by Paul B. Kohler

  About the Author

  Free Book

  From the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Dear Reader

  Detour: Book Two of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy

  by Paul B. Kohler

  Detour: Book Two of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 by Paul B. Kohler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

  Edited by Ellen Campbell

  Cover design by Paul B. Kohler

  Interior design and layout by Paul B. Kohler

  ISBN-13: 978-1-940740-18-8 (tpb)

  ISBN-10: 1-940740-18-5 (tpb)

  Books by Paul B. Kohler

  Humanity’s Edge Trilogy:

  Turn, Book One

  The Hunted Assassin

  An Anthology of Short Stories: 2016

  The Borrowed Souls

  The Immortality Chronicles

  Rememorations (contributed)

  Linear Shift, A Novel

  Silo Sage: Recoil

  An Anthology of Short Stories:

  Summer 2014

  Winter 2016

  Something to Read: A Charity Anthology

  Four Stories Contributed

  About the Author

  Paul B Kohler is the author of the highly acclaimed novel, Linear Shift, and the remarkable novel series, The Borrowed Souls. Aside from his longer works, a number of his short stories have been included in various anthologies. His latest short, Rememorations, has been included in The Immortality Chronicles - a Top 5 SF Anthology and Hot New Releases. Rememorations was also nominated for Best American Science Fiction.

  When not practicing architecture, Paul works on his writing. He lives in Littleton, Colorado, with his wife and daughter.

  To learn more about him and his books, visit www.PaulKohler.net

  To get your free copy,

  just join my readers group here:

  http://bit.ly/pk-jr1

  From the Author

  Detour: Book Two of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy is a work of fiction. It's a futuristic glimpse of “what-if”. I've used my creative license to develop a story that explores what life might be like at the end of the world. Also, the tech and biology used here are fictitious. As far as I know, there are no zombie making nanites in current use. Please consider that when reading the following story. But, more importantly, enjoy the read!

  Chapter 1

  It rained most of the day before the storm pulled up anchor shortly after midnight, the welcomed deluge reducing to a mere drizzle just in time for Sam to start her shift.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” she bellowed from the vacant observation tower perched some forty feet above the container yard. “How many times do I have to tell them?”

  She was referring to the shift schedule hanging on the wall just inside the catwalk door. Printed in eighteen-point Comic Sans font, her name was spelled out. Samantha Anne Wells. Without batting an eye, she crossed out the “antha,” those disdained extra syllables. Sam was the only name she’d gone by since she was a little girl. Samantha was only used by . . . well, her dad, and he’d passed away years ago.

  Sam traced her finger across the schedule and found that not only did she have to work her third straight graveyard shift, she was scheduled for that same time slot every single day for the remainder of the week. To make matters worse, she was scheduled with Malcolm.

  She shuddered, sensing his presence just outside the door. She’d heard him barking orders at one of the yard attendants just moments before, his voice sounding dog-like, ready to attack.

  Just a few more weeks, Sam thought, and she could quit her lousy job for good. She’d have enough saved to visit her sister in New England, until she could figure out her next step. She hadn’t been herself in years, she felt stretched thin, ragged. And she was only thirty-two years old.

  She knew she couldn’t blame her ex, Malcolm, or their rocky relationship for the entirety of her despair. But Jesus, it was tempting.

  She heard Malcolm’s footsteps vibrating on the catwalk outside. She tensed, her eyes darting toward anywhere else. She lifted a clipboard and began to read the list of containers slated to ship out the following day.

  The door clattered open and Malcolm huffed as he stepped in. His pervasive scent—a mix of slight body odor and an overused body spray—filled the room. She remembered the brand, could even picture it on his bathroom shelf. She’d felt lust, before, when she’d smelled it. Now it just turned her stomach.

  “Evening, Samantha,” Malcolm said, leering at her. “Don’t suppose you want to hand me my clipboard? Got to check on that container going to Seattle.”

  “It already left,” Sam said, her voice high-pitched and not her own. “And you know better than to call me that.”

  “I’ll keep doing it until it doesn’t get a reaction out of you anymore. Fascinating how it still enrages you.”

  “It doesn’t enrage me,” Sam insisted. “It just isn’t who I am. And you know that.”

  “Guess I don’t know you as well as I thought,” Malcolm said, collapsing into his chair and sliding it across the floor. He lifted a girlie magazine from his desk and began to flip through it, perusing the curvaceous women. Sam couldn’t help but think his eyes looked like those of dead fish in a market.

  “Now, if you don’t mind,” Sam began retreating to her desk across the room. “I have a lot of paperwork to do, and I know you can’t help me with it. Your handwriting is atrocious.”

  “Ha,” Malcolm scoffed. He grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume on the television, and switched it to the news—the only thing that was on after at one in the morning. “Let’s see who died in a car accident today, shall we?”

  �
��You’re a monster,” Sam whispered, not wanting him to hear. Her pulse throbbed to the rhythm of rage. It seemed like a million years ago that her heart soared when he teased her. She’d flip her hair flirtatiously and imagine a future with him. A future? Jesus Christ. She couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him now.

  The news anchor had shoulder-length blonde hair and was cheery, almost jubilant as she reported on a recent string of carjackings in the neighboring city. Sam tuned her out. She instead focused on filling out the paperwork required for the next group of containers.

  The blonde anchor was cut off suddenly, and a new reporter filled the screen. This man was grim, with a greying face.

  “This is breaking news,” he announced.

  “Ha. It’s always ‘breaking news,’” Malcolm sneered. “What do you think it is? Some kid’s been taken? Someone’s been raped again?”

  Reluctantly, Sam turned toward the screen, watching the update with mock anticipation.

  “We’re just getting information of an epidemic, which seems to be affecting people worldwide. Right now, it’s unclear as to its precise origin, but we’re hearing reports that it’s some kind of infection that causes the host to appear rabid or crazed, almost animalistic, then they begin to bite other people. It’s believed to be viral in nature, and spreads rapidly. Both private and public facilities are being affected, including grocery stores, movie theaters, shopping districts, and even local government agencies are being overwhelmed. Entire school systems are being shut down until further notice. This is not something to take lightly, as anyone could be affected. Bankers. Secretaries. Lawyers. You need to be cautious.”

  “Who else?” Malcolm jeered. “Seems like he missed a few people out there. What about shipping yard attendants? What about gravediggers? What about—”

  “Just shut up,” Sam said. “I’m trying to listen.”

  “I’m trying to listen,” he mocked in a sing-songy voice.

  She rolled her eyes and turned up the volume, to block out Malcolm’s commentary more than anything else.

  “The World Health Organization is strongly advising that you avoid contact with others. That includes family and friends. Right now, it’s not clear how many have been infected, but if you begin to show symptoms, isolate yourself, and call the number on your screen. A WHO or CDC representative will assist you.”

  “Jesus,” Sam gasped, standing up so quickly she nearly fell over. “Is this really happening?”

  She thought about her sister in Vermont. Had the virus reached the Northeast?

  “To recap,” the reporter continued, “this virus is extremely contagious, and we all must remain diligent. This is a worldwide epidemic and it goes without saying, all off humanity is at risk. We urge you: until we know more, don’t have any contact. With anyone. Period.”

  “Did he just say don’t have contact with anyone on their period?” Malcolm asked, giving her an evil smile.

  “Jesus, Malcolm,” Sam groaned. “No, he didn’t say that.”

  “He did. I was right here. I heard him.” He eased his chair back, eyeing her. “You’re not on your period right now, are you?”

  “Malcolm,” Sam was aghast. “Just shut the hell up.”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. He looked bawdy and rough, like a man with nothing to lose. “Come on, now, Sam.”

  Sam balked. She saw a glimmer in his eyes that disturbed her. It was proof, once more, that he hadn’t stopped lusting after her. Maybe it was even love, if he was capable of it. She doubted it.

  “You heard him. He said the world’s about to end. You know what that means?”

  Sam felt hopeless. “It means we’re doomed,” she said. “And I’m condemned to stay in this room with you through this whole horrible shift.”

  “Darling, no. That’s not what I meant,” Malcolm said, standing from his chair. He stood almost a full foot taller than Sam, and he towered over her now, assessing her. Her blonde locks tumbled over her shoulders, and her blue eyes fluttered like those of a fairytale princess.

  She hated that she looked so feminine sometimes. She chose not to wear makeup during her shifts, not wanting to highlight her appearance.

  “Sammy, what I mean is, now that we might be in the last hours of our lives, we shouldn’t refrain from touching one another at all. In fact, baby, I think we should strip right now and fuck on the floor, just like we did a year ago. You remember that, Sam? You remember how I made you moan?”

  “Stop,” Sam said, her voice firm.

  “Come on, Sam. You know you want to. Just do it, and we can forget everything that happened.”

  “Ha. I don’t want your forgiveness,” she snapped, turning away from him. Her heart still pounded in her chest at the thought of the epidemic. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You need to accept that.”

  “Sam, I can see the way you look at me.”

  “Like I want to murder you and bury you behind the shipping yard?”

  “No. Like you want me to strip you bare and make love to you like a man. You haven’t been with a real man in a while. Have you? I know you were dating that little kid—”

  “Freddie isn’t a kid,” Sam said, referring to her neighbor she’d dated briefly. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “So, you saw it, too. That he’s just a child,” Malcolm grinned.

  “No. He was far more mature than you’ll ever be,” Sam said.

  Malcolm lunged and pushed her against the wall. She gasped as he traced the curve of her cheek with a finger. Every cell in her body quivered with fear.

  “There, Sammy. Now we’ve touched. You think I have the disease? That . . . infection?” Malcolm asked, then snapped his teeth together like a dog.

  “I d-don’t think I’d know right away,” Sam stuttered, trying to stay strong. “And get the fuck off me, or I’ll report you.”

  “Not if it’s the end of the world, you won’t,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t be with you if you were the last man on Earth.” Sam’s eyes blazed.

  “Oh, baby doll. I think you’ll be with me in the end, or you’ll regret it.” He pressed her harder against the wall. For a single wretched instant, she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. She was almost certain he’d force his lips on hers.

  In a moment of panic, she whipped her head around, just brushing his lips, and looked toward the container yard’s security display.

  “What the hell?” She ducked under Malcolm’s arm and ran toward the video screen. He let her go without a struggle, proving he was all bark, no bite. At least today.

  On the display, she saw a convoy of tractor-trailers pulling into the yard, stopping near the observation tower. She couldn’t remember seeing a large shipment on the docket.

  “We don’t have any transports coming in, do we?” she asked.

  Malcolm hadn’t even bothered to look at the video screen. Having been denied, yet again, he retreated to his girlie magazine and was engrossed once more, his eyes mere inches from the glossy pages. “Not that I recall,” he murmured, sounding bored.

  “So, you’re just going to stop doing your job, now?” she asked.

  Malcolm was silent.

  She stomped to the radio, lifting the mic and calling down to the yard attendants, who were the real front line at the Universal Container Shipping Company, LLC.

  “Hey, Todd,” she said, thumbing the button on the radio. “Where’s this convoy coming from? I don’t have anything on the boards for it.”

  After a burst of white noise, the reply came through, Todd’s southern twang booming from the radio’s speaker. “Hey there, Sam. Yep, the trucks were sent over from Helen. But there’s no bill of lading.”

  “Ah. I see,” Sam said, her eyebrows furrowing. SOP dictated that without the cargo declared and properly documented, they weren’t supposed to allow the containers into the yard. Something tugged at the back of her mind. This had never happened before. But it wasn’t like they had anything better to do that n
ight.

  “Well, tell you what, Todd. Why don’t you open them up and do a quick inventory of the contents. Log everything. You’re probably bored down there, anyway, right?”

  After a pause, Todd replied, “Yeah, that’s about right. Happy to do it.”

  “Great. Thanks, guys.” Sam snapped the mic back into its cradle. She turned toward Malcolm, who was still slouched over, trying to ensure he saw every nook and cranny of the women in his girlie mag.

  “I’m going to check things out,” she said.

  Malcolm snorted. He gave no indication of joining her. Sam burst out the side door, to the catwalk surrounding their office. The air was oddly chilly. But with the news from the television still ringing in her ears, she felt eerily alive.

  At the edge of the catwalk, she looked out over the shipping yard below, her arms wide and her hands gripping the railing. She watched as Todd, a nearly seven-foot tall, broad-shouldered man, spoke to several of the workers he supervised, explaining the orders. Sam began to chew manically at the dead skin on her lip.

  Malcolm appeared beside her. He kept his distance, no longer spewing ugliness. He, too, gripped the railing. Like it or not, they were still co-workers, no matter what drama still sizzled between them.

  Todd lifted a lever at the rear of the first trailer, cracking the container open. He craned his neck, peering into the darkness. A look of horror painted his face. His eyes widened, gleaming stark white. Several screaming humans leaped from the depths of the container, wrapping their limbs around him. One of them, a woman, put her mouth on Todd’s throat and tore at his skin, bringing a large waterfall of blood pouring from his neck. He had no time to scream—the woman dug her teeth deeper, taking out his vocal cords.

  “What the fuck?” Sam cried, gripping the rail tightly. The sight of Todd’s blood caused her stomach to clench, and for a split second, she thought was going to be sick. Dozens more of the crazed people erupted from the container, one or two going to the next container and freeing more of them.