Fate

by V. A. Brandon

  “You could?” Mike asked, taken aback.

  “Strangely enough, yes. It was soft, barely detectable, like a slithering sound. I’m afraid that’s the closest description I can think of.”

  Mike was astonished Mr. Rothstein had heard that, despite the closed window. “H-How did they die?”

  “Well … by the time I realized they were in terrible danger, the man’s head had already been ripped off, and the woman’s body torn into two at the waist. I didn’t linger to watch. I hurriedly returned to the sofa, but it was hours before slumber came upon me.” Mr. Rothstein paused, his chin dropping to his chest, then jerked as if he’d been startled awake. “We aren’t safe here. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Mike didn’t like where this discussion was going. Where could they go? He didn’t even have a vehicle except for a second-hand bicycle that had seen better days.

  “We’re safe here,” he said stubbornly. “We have shelter, there’s plenty of food left, and we’re immune to the infection. So even if one of them happens to attack us –”

  “Immune?” Skepticism pooled in Mr. Rothstein’s eyes. “Do you believe that’s enough? Yes, the contaminated water doesn’t affect us, but what about actual bites from the infected? And what if we’re attacked like that poor couple last night?”

  “We heal faster now –”

  “Not ‘we.’ Only you heal faster. And I highly doubt even you could stitch yourself up after being ripped into two separate pieces.” Mr. Rothstein let out a weary sigh. “We may be immune to the virus, but we aren’t invincible, my friend. Please remember this.”

  “Of course …” Mike trailed off, perturbed by the elderly man’s extreme example, then frowned as he realized what had just been said. “Wait. What do you mean only I heal faster? Isn’t quick healing one of the effects from your daughter’s vaccine?”

  “Or so we thought. But it seems that only applies to you.” Mr. Rothstein undid the top two buttons on his shirt and pulled one side down, revealing a bony shoulder. “See the bruises left from yesterday’s scrimmage, courtesy of the frightened couple at the entrance? If I had the ability to heal faster, these would be long gone by now.” A rueful tone entered his voice. “But alas, I’m not displaying other positive effects besides my immunity.”

  The two fell into silence, each contemplating the elephant in the room. The vaccine had been a life-saving gift in the face of the horrific outbreak, but there were too many unknown factors, not to mention potential risks and side effects related to a drug that probably hadn’t gone through the approval process yet.

  Mike lifted his head, studying the elderly gentleman closely. “You want to go to your daughter, don’t you?”

  Without missing a beat, Mr. Rothstein replied, “I do,” and began rebuttoning his shirt.

  “Deen & Blatt Pharmaceuticals is about an hour away by bus. How do you propose we get there? We don’t even have a working car.”

  “I may have retired and moved to one of the cheapest areas in the city, but I assure you, I have plenty of resources and assets.”

  Mike had no cause to doubt him. As a professional pianist, Mr. Rothstein had probably led a distinguished life that commanded enviable rewards, such as recognition and wealth. If anything, it was a wonder why someone of his esteem had moved to a run-down area like this.

  “Right now, there’s an unused RV patiently waiting for us to take it for a spin. My wife and I had always planned to go on a road trip along the East Coast, but her illness and passing put that on the back burner indefinitely.” Mr. Rothstein brightened a little. “I think it’s time to consider that trip now, don’t you?”

  A road trip with cannibalistic crazies as the main attraction? Who could ask for more?

  And yet, Mike had to admit he was looking forward to seeing Mr. Rothstein’s daughter again, if she was still alive. What did she know? Out of all the applicants for the clinical trials, why had she chosen to give him the vaccine? And how many others had received it, too?

  “When do we leave?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow morning. For today, we’ll pack essentials such as sustenance, medical kits, and clothes. Do you still have that police baton with you?”

  “Uh, no. I think I dropped it near the entrance.”

  “Go get that now. In the meantime, I’ll gather a few tools that can serve as weapons.”

  It was really happening; they were venturing into the open where a sudden flat tire or lack of fuel could spell imminent death. But as always, Mr. Rothstein was right on the money. They had to keep moving forward if they wanted answers that could help them survive in this harsh, unknown landscape.

  With mixed feelings, Mike slipped out of the apartment, checked to make sure the coast was clear, then made a beeline for the foyer, where hopefully the baton remained somewhere close.

  * * *

  Casey knocked on the window, holding a plate of bacon, fried eggs, and buttered toast in her other hand. “Morning, sleepyhead.” She raised her eyebrows as Cain jumped in fright, then swore loudly at her.

  “Is that breakfast?” he grumbled, rolling down the window.

  “It is. The first proper meal we’re having since yesterday morning.” They’d missed dinner the previous night due to Casey’s sudden meltdown, but judging by the empty coffee can and plastic wrapping littering the passenger seat, Cain had taken care of his own hunger. “Do you want to eat out here or join us inside?”

  “I’ll eat out here.”

  “You sure? Don’t you have to use the bathroom?”

  Irritation flickered in his eyes. “I’m sure.” His expression softened when he noticed her red, puffy eyelids. “Feeling better today?”

  To her surprise, she did; releasing all of her pent-up emotions had been cathartic, to say the least.

  She smiled and nodded, handing over the plate of greasy goodness. “I feel a lot better. It’s like I jettisoned all the burdens that were weighing me down.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Cain said, looking uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, you were the one who actually saw Mom and Dad’s remains. That must have taken a massive psychological toll on you.”

  “Well … yeah, I suppose.” Embarrassed by her twin’s sudden empathy, she decided to switch their conversation to a more pressing topic. “By the way, how did you sleep last night? Did you hear or see anything strange while you were out here?”

  “I thought I saw something moving behind the trees, but I can’t say for sure. It could’ve been a deer for all I know.” He shoveled the eggs into his eager mouth before speaking again. “To be honest, I was half expecting some of the tween campers to be hanging around here.”

  “The campsite’s on the other end of the lake, though.”

  “So? You’ve seen how fast those things can run.” Chewing voraciously, he studied the woods behind the lake house. “Even if they’re hiding in there, we should be able to hear them coming. Those things are damn noisy.”

  Not always, Casey thought, recalling their unsettling silence and speed come nightfall.

  After quickly finishing off the sausages, Cain bit down on the buttered toast and handed the empty plate to his sister. “Fanks,” he mumbled, his mouth full.

  “Want seconds?” she asked dryly.

  “Always.”

  “Then get your lazy butt inside.”

  His eyes narrowed. “In that case, I’ll pass. There’s loads of canned food here, anyway.”

  Casey tried a different tactic. “It’s not just about food. The three of us need to talk.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to that succubus parading as a human.”

  This was getting nowhere. Frustrated, she leaned over, practically nose to nose with her stubborn twin. “Listen, you hulking idiot, I don’t have time for this. Come inside so that the three of us can sit down and have a mature discussion.” A brief pause. “Last night, I was able to get some new info on the outbreak.”

  This piqued his interest, as Casey knew
it would. She started walking back to the lake house just as Cain poked his head out of the truck.

  “Hey!” he called after her. “I’ll only come in if Ashley agrees to play nice.”

  Ashley play nice? What a preposterous notion.

  “Whatever,” she said, reaching up to remove the bloodstained wind chimes. That thing was not only spooky but acted like a damn dinner bell. “It’s your call.”

  About ten minutes later, Cain stomped through the front door, reeking slightly of sweat, and joined the two girls at the breakfast table. Ashley poured a cup of piping-hot coffee and slid it toward him, a fake smile on her pretty face.

  At least she didn’t spit in it before serving him, Casey thought, resisting the maddening urge to laugh. It’d always been vexing being the mediator of these two, but for now, they had no choice but to put aside their hang-ups, perceived or otherwise. There was too much to deal with, one of which was their current lack of safety. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows made her feel like they were ensconced in a thin glass cage, a food display rather than a hideout.

  “Settle down, both of you,” she ordered, no longer smiling. “It’s time for us to talk, so I don’t want anyone interrupting unless it’s part of the overall discussion. Understood?”

  When they both nodded reluctantly, Casey pushed her half-empty plate away to begin.

  Chapter 7

  To help Ashley catch up, Casey started at their escape from the campsite and their drive home, where they first witnessed hordes of the infected devouring people on the highway. She skimmed the details regarding her parents, then explained the twins’ original plan to cross the border by midnight. As expected, Ashley was greatly irked by this – her mouth puckered like she’d just sucked on a lemon.

  “Which brings me to the next part,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s displeasure. “I noticed something as we were leaving our neighborhood, and again once we reached the jam-packed vehicles near the border.” She frowned, recalling the memories. “The infected beings’ behavior started changing once it became dark outside. For instance, they’re a lot quieter after the sun sets, and their fast movements during the day don’t even compare to what happens once nighttime comes.”

  Ashley let out a loud yawn, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand. “Why obsess about their differences? They’re dangerous either way.”

  “That’s true,” Casey admitted. “But knowing the differences will help us make the right decisions – when to best avoid them, when to travel on the road, what measures to take in the event we find ourselves lost –”

  “We’re not moving an inch from this house,” Ashley snapped, sitting up, “so there’ll be no traveling on the road or finding ourselves lost in some isolated dump teeming with those ravenous parasites.”

  Biting her lip, Casey stared at her twin, but his insouciant expression pretty much said everything: You’re on your own, Kay. Don’t expect any help from me.

  “Let’s just move on for now,” she relented, gently rubbing her left temple. “We need to do something about these massive glass windows. Paint them black, glue newspaper on them, barricade the lower half with furniture and appliances … anything we can get our hands on.”

  A groan bubbled from Ashley’s throat. “My grandparents will kill me for defiling their summer home.”

  “If they aren’t already dead,” Cain muttered under his breath.

  “Did you say something?” she demanded.

  “I said I want another piece of bread.” Shooting her a rictus grin, he grabbed one of the soggy toasts resting on Casey’s plate.

  How interesting. The lake house was already a terrible mess, but Ashley seemed almost blind to the dried blood and broken glass. As far as Casey was concerned, this beautiful place had been “defiled” since yesterday morning.

  “We’ll start right after breakfast,” she said, taking note of the brewing tension between those two. “Next, I want to talk about the articles and comments I read on social media.”

  That definitely got Cain’s interest. “I’m surprised the Internet’s still working. So, what’s the cause for all this?”

  Earlier news articles had focused more on avoiding infection and where to seek shelter, although plenty of conspiracy theorists had eagerly donned their tinfoil hats with talk of the government and its evil experiments, domestic and international terrorist factions, and spores spawning alien life-forms in the ocean to take over planet Earth. However, after several posts by journalists contemplating dangerous chemical contaminants leaking into the water supply and naming a list of five pharmaceutical companies as possible culprits behind this outbreak, they’d suddenly stopped posting at around 8 p.m., along with other major news outlets.

  “It’s gotta be censorship,” Cain said as Casey finished explaining what she’d found on her online newsfeed. “Otherwise none of it makes sense. I’ll bet those journalists were on the right path and it was just a matter of time before they dug out the truth, so the pharmaceutical tycoons paid large sums to powerful politicians to shut down the media.”

  Casey didn’t mention that Deen & Blatt Pharmaceuticals had been named as one of the possible culprits, the company where she’d volunteered for a series of clinical trials. Rubbing the band-aid on her arm, she wondered how Miriam Rothstein, the friendly researcher who’d given her the vitamin shot, was faring under all this added stress.

  If she’s still alive, that is.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Ashley sneered, snapping Casey out of her thoughts. “You’re a damn fool if you think politicians have the power to shut down mass media.”

  “Well, I guess it takes one to know one, since you were the hopeless idiot hiding under the kitchen sink waiting for rescue to come while the rest of us were out there surviving and risking our lives,” Cain retorted.

  “Okay, that’s enough. This meeting’s adjourned.” Casey piled the plates and rose to her feet. “We’ll start painting the windows and barricading them with large furniture. Ashley, I remember your grandparents used to put up heavy velvet drapes during winter. Do you know where they are?”

  “Why? I thought you were going to paint the glass.”

  “The key word here is we, not you. If you’re not going to help out, then you’re baggage to me.”

  “Hey! This is my home, and you just ate my food. If anyone’s baggage, it’s you two!”

  “And if we hadn’t decided to come here, you’d still be hiding under the sink till the day you rot. So be grateful, damn you, and stop complaining.”

  Ashley stilled, her cheeks growing red. “You evil twins will never let me live that down, will you?”

  “Nope,” Casey and Cain said in cheery unison.

  “Fine.” A pregnant pause. “I’ll go to the attic and look for them.”

  “Attagirl. Cain, go and bring in all of our boxes from the truck. Then I want you to hide the truck among a thicket of trees so it can’t be easily detected and stolen. While you two are doing that, I’ll go out to the shed and look for paint and tools.” The last item reminded Casey of another pressing problem. “By the way, did your grandparents keep any guns here?”

  “Guns at a peaceful lake house?” Ashley let out an amused snort. “They’re accountants who’ve worked in bustling cities their whole lives. They’ve never felt a need for them.”

  “We should’ve brought Dad’s shotgun with us,” Cain said, sounding troubled.

  That shotgun had been inside the master bedroom, locked up in a secure safe. With Mr. Montague trapped in there, there was no way Casey and Cain could’ve taken it out and lived to tell the tale.

  “It doesn’t matter; we’ll make do somehow.” She gave them a positive smile that belied the underlying fear in the pit of her stomach. “Let’s get started, shall we? Our goal is to finish everything by dinnertime.”

  Once Cain and Ashley headed off to their designated tasks, Casey stood alone, thinking. They needed information, not just basic tips that everyone who’d survi
ved already knew. She stared at the recharged cell phone lying on the breakfast table, its dark, shiny screen reflecting a slightly distorted image of her face. Where would journalists and dissidents migrate to if the government took an iron-fist approach to silence them online?

  Has to be the dark web. Where else would they congregate?

  Feeling hopeful, she grabbed the phone and hurried outside to Cain, who was stacking the boxes into separate piles: food, blankets, spare clothes, first-aid supplies, and a container filled with gasoline.

  “I need your help,” she gasped, pulling at his arm. “How do I get into the dark web?”

  “Why? Are you looking to purchase illegal drugs? Or maybe military-grade weapons?”

  “Very funny.” Trying to contain her excitement, she added, “It’s known as a safe haven for political dissidents and journalists who want to anonymously share information, right?”

  “Right,” Cain echoed. “It’s also the underbelly of the web where an innocent lamb like you can easily stumble onto the vilest content humanity has to offer. We’re talking child porn, snuff and torture videos, human trafficking, beheadings, animal cruelty … these are depraved images that’ll make you want to scrub out your eyes with a steel scourer.”

  “That’s why I need you to guide me through this jungle,” she said stubbornly. “Didn’t you and your college roommates sometimes trawl through the dark web to get your hands on quality recreational weed at cheaper prices?”

  Cain didn’t deny it, but he didn’t look all that comfortable, either.

  “All right,” he said finally, “but not right now. You wanted us to transform this place by dinnertime, remember?”

  She nodded, grateful. “Knew I could count on you. Anyway, let’s bring those boxes in, and then you and Ashley can start on the drapes.”