N87 Virus | Prequel |Outbreak

by Kadin, Karri

  Veronica's eyelids were heavy as the sun broke the horizon. The light burned her eyes. But she forced them to stay open. As the car hummed down the deserted highway, Timber was curled up in the passenger seat, asleep. He looked so peaceful. The sign for the wildlife refuge appeared, and Veronica felt her tense muscles relax. It was almost over, only five miles to go until she made it to the pickup spot.

  She turned on the gravel road that headed toward the marshland campground that sat at the longitude and latitude Marc had sent her. The car bumped on the large gravel and jolted her around in her seat. Veronica felt lucky that she didn't have to walk on the worn, uneven road.

  A plume of dark smoke rose from the trees up ahead. A knot formed in Veronica's stomach as a sickening feeling washed over her. She watched the smoke rise into the sky. A huge pothole almost bottomed out Barbie and Timber woke with a start. He sat straight up in his seat and stared out the window, wagging his tail.

  The trees hung over the road like a canopy. Water lined one side of the roadway and forest the other. So many places for the monsters to hide. Large alligators and birds with long slender legs graced the banks. The large reptiles were preparing to bathe in the morning sun.

  Veronica's hands shook on the steering wheel as the glint of silver metal in the marsh water caught her eye. The smoke rose from that crumpled metal. When the car was even with the balloon of smoke, she pulled over and surveyed the wreckage.

  She and Timber exited Barbie and pushed their way through the trees. Her heart thudded in her chest as reality slammed into her like a right hook from the heavyweight champ. There would be no rescue. Timber stayed right behind her. She created a path for them through the trees and the dirty water. Her foot sunk down into some deep mud and she almost lost her shoe pulling it out. Her shoe was wet and heavy now.

  “Fuck!” she said.

  She made it to the edge of the bank. Thankfully, this section was absent of alligators. The shiny metal of a helicopter tail stuck up from the water. The hub of the helicopter had broken from the tail and was precariously perched atop some trees across the marsh. A body hung out the open door, still tangled up in a seat belt. Another body floated in the water. Dark smoke swirled from both the tail and the hub of the helicopter. Veronica sunk to the ground. She pulled out her phone and called Marc. It went straight to voicemail.

  “What are we going to do Timber?” Tears ran down Veronica’s cheeks.

  Timber rubbed up against her. Veronica rested her hand on his back and watched a suitcase float by across the dark water. She was truly on her own. No one was coming to her rescue. She had to take care of herself now.

  The hair on Timber’s spine shot up, and his teeth clenched in a growl. A chill ran down her spine. Veronica slipped her hand to the gun in her waistband and held it tight as she spun around to face what was lurking in the shrubbery.

  A man with black veins across his face and eyes full of hate crouched in a brush. His eyes locked on her. His three-piece suit had seen better days. It was covered in dark stains with rips throughout, exposing his pasty skin marred with countless black lines. He took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes on her. Timber leaped in front of her and let out a bark. The man seemed a bit startled. But not deterred.

  Veronica pulled her gun from her waistband and aimed it at the man.

  “Don't make me do this,” she said.

  The man shook his head and slammed his fists on his temples. He looked at her again. His eyes, slightly softer than before, then looked back the way he had come.

  “Please go,” she said. Timber’s body vibrated as he growled and kept himself firmly planted between her and the sick man.

  The man took a step back. He shook his head again, like he was trying to chase away a thought. He let out a sound, unlike any she had heard from the other creatures. It was almost like he was trying to speak to her. He turned on his heels and ran back into the forest. Veronica patted Timber on the back to get his attention off the tree line and on to her.

  “Come on, boy, we got to go.” Timber followed her as she hurried back to her car.

  Once safely locked inside, she pulled out her phone and dialed her brother again. This time she didn’t even get the voicemail, just a simple recording stating “We cannot complete this call.” Her phone had almost no battery power left.

  She pressed the start button. And the car hummed at a different frequency than before. The battery was almost dead. There was no telling how much further she could get, but definitely not back home, or to the compound in New Mexico. She pulled out the map and looked for somewhere she thought might be safe. Not that anywhere was truly safe anymore. Hundreds of acres of protected marshland surrounded her, a few small communities, and plenty of farmland. Being here was safer than the cities.

  Veronica pulled out an antibiotic and swallowed it dry. Tears lined her eyes, but she kept the sobs at bay. She didn’t have time to lose her shit. She hit the gas pedal and opened the center console and dug through, looking for anything of use. When her hand grabbed the cool metal of a charging pad. She smiled and pulled it out. She plugged it into the car, hesitating briefly, knowing this would drain the car battery that much faster. But her phone was almost dead, and she was going to be without a car, no matter what. At least if she had her phone, Marc could still try to reach her. If he was even still alive. She set her phone on the charging pad.

  The car bumped along the gravel road. Timber stared out the window, watching the trees and water go by. They exited the protected marshland and entered farming country. Still in the middle of nowhere, but with slightly fewer alligators.

  They came to a fork in the road and Veronica just went with her gut and turned left. About ten miles later, the car puttered to a stop. She looked around and made sure the area was clear before searching the entire car for anything useful. She found a small luxury suitcase in the trunk full of women's clothes, none of which were appropriate for an apocalypse. But she took a few pairs of clean underwear and some socks. Of course, someone with a designer suitcase would rent a car named Barbie. Veronica wondered what happened to the girl, but pushed the thought away when the knot of discomfort formed in her stomach. She had more life-threatening things to worry about right now. She didn't need to worry about someone she didn't even know.

  She gathered her things and started off down the gravel road. The sun beaming down through the trees warmed her skin. But this was Georgia in the fall. And it could get sweltering by noon. She wouldn't be able to stay out in that kind of weather. She needed to find some place to stay, regroup, and figure out what she needed to do. Timber trotted by her side, happily wagging his tail, occasionally bumping her hand with his head, needing a scratch behind his ears.

  This area seemed pretty much empty. It would be a good place to stay if she could find shelter. An hour into the walk and Veronica's shirt was stained with sweat. The sky above had become cloudy, and a welcome cool breeze caressed her skin.

  The landscape had turned into rugged brush and open fields. The top of a worn white house appeared in the distance, and Veronica almost jumped for joy. She pulled out one of the water bottles and downed it before picking up her pace.

  Light rain peppered the ground, moistening the old dry soil around Veronica. She looked over her shoulder and saw dark clouds brewing in the distance. Damn Georgia weather. The house was still a few miles away. But she didn't want to get caught in a downpour. She picked up her pace more to a jog and Timber trotted along beside her. She kept her eyes glued to the trees that lined the road, watching for any movement, prepared to defend herself.

  The rain was falling harder when she reached the old, rustic house. The dark clouds were directly overhead as she bounded on to the wood porch. All the blinds were drawn, and the door shut. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. Silence. Veronica walked around to the back of the house and saw that the back door was also closed and all the back windows had their curtains drawn too. She turned the handle and realized it was
unlocked. She went back to the front porch, jiggled that door handle and listened. No noise came from inside, so she turned the handle and gave the door a little push, and it popped open on squeaky hinges. She slipped inside the dark house, Timber right behind her. She choked on the foul air and pulled her shirt up over her nose.

  The clanging rhythmic sound from the rain on the tin roof could barely be heard inside the house. She pulled her gun from her hip and trudged through the living room and into the kitchen. A dead man lay on the floor. The source of the foul air. Veronica’s eyes burned and watered. He had been there for a while. Huge chunks taken from his flesh, teeth marks left behind, some big, some small. She stumbled, gagging, from the kitchen. Her nerves lit on fire, and the hair on her neck shot to attention. Timber seemed worried, and he crouched to the floor, scurrying quietly, looking all around.

  Veronica searched the whole downstairs, but found no one else. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her shaking hands as she held the gun out in front of her and hurried up the stairs. Timber trotted up behind her. Upstairs there was a floral wallpapered hallway, lined with closed doors with brass knobs. Quaint and creepy. Floorboards creaked under her feet.

  She went to the first door and leaned against it, listening. There were no sounds inside. She jiggled the handle to get the attention of anything inside, but no sound came from the other side of the door. She opened the door and the cheerful pink walls covered in hand-painted butterflies slammed her in the gut like a sumo wrestler. Some little girl’s tiny white four-poster bed was in the corner, still unmade from whoever had slept in it last. Toys spread out across the room as if dropped mid-play.

  She kept the door open and moved to the next closed door and listened. At this one, she heard footsteps and the occasional rattle. She took a deep breath and looked down at Timber.

  “Are you ready, boy?” she whispered. She could have sworn that dog nodded his head.

  She flung open the door and froze. A tiny golden-haired toddler girl with black veins covering her face and lips lined with blood raced for her. Veronica fumbled with her gun. She couldn't shoot a child, she wouldn't shoot a child. Right behind the girl came a woman with the same golden hair. Veronica held the gun up but couldn’t bring herself to make the shot. So, she turned and ran.

  She went through the next closed door across the hall and realized Timber wasn't beside her anymore. She didn't have time to look for him because the two monsters that had once been mother and daughter were blocking the doorway. Their angry eyes glued to her. The woman charged and Veronica didn’t even have time to think. She opened the window and pushed herself out of it onto the roof. She slipped on the tin in the rain and landed on her stomach just as the woman swiped at her. Veronica slid down the roof, turning her body so her feet were facing the ground. She lost her hold on her gun and it slid along the tin next to her. Her toes caught the top of the gutter stopping her from falling to the ground below. The gun slid past her. She reached for it, but it was too late. The gun went over the side and onto the ground. Veronica looked up at the woman hanging out the window, rage across her face as she debated following Veronica onto the roof.

  Veronica knew this was her only shot. She lifted her toes off the gutter and let her body slide down the roof until she fell from the side of the house. Catching herself with her hands on the edge of the roof, hanging like a child from the monkey bars, her biceps burned, and she looked at the ground below. She dropped and landed on her feet but fell to her side in a puddle of muddy water. A frustrated scream came from above her, but no one followed her over the edge.

  Veronica swept her hands through the dirty water puddle, looking for her gun. But she couldn't find it. Timber’s bark sounded from inside the house and fear clutched her heart. She jumped to her feet and ran around the house until she found the back door. Without thinking, she opened the old door.

  “Timber!” she screamed.

  She heard the thumping of footsteps upstairs, and then down the stairs, and saw Timber come into view as he leaped from the stairs in the living room with the mom right behind him.

  “Run Timber! Run! Come on, boy!”

  Timber launched himself through the door and Veronica slammed it shut as soon as he cleared the frame. A thud slammed against the door as she closed it, causing the door to bow slightly. She heard screams on the other side. The door handle jiggled as the woman yanked it from the other side. Could they open doors? She didn't want to stick around to find out. Timber growled and barked at the door. He was in full fight mode. Veronica grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down the steps. When they were at the bottom, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

  “We have to go.” She patted her thigh, encouraging him to follow as she jogged away from the house. She looked back over her shoulder and gasped. The door was shaking so hard; it seemed like it might come off the hinges.

  She picked up her pace and looked forward. She could still hear the door shaking behind her. The rain poured and visibility was shit. Off in the distance she caught sight of some structure and she took off in that direction.

  She tried looking back behind her, but could never get an unobstructed view of the house. Timber kept pace with her, sometimes running ahead. But he would always slow down until she caught up with him again.

  When she reached the structure, the rain had soaked her to the bone. Her clothes clung to her body, and the water weighed her down. It was an old red barn, but it seemed like it was standing the test of time.

  Veronica found the door and pulled it open. She stepped inside out of the rain, and Timber followed. She pulled the door shut, and was surrounded by darkness, with only the light from the loft window high above highlighting the center of the room.

  A low grumble off from the side startled her. She whipped around, and saw an old man with black veins across his face, dragging himself across the straw covered floor towards her. A wheelchair set in the corner. She backed away, but he kept coming. White foam dripped from his mouth, and his hungry eyes latched on her.

  Timber growled and snapped at the man, but it didn't stop him. Hanging on the wall to her right was a slew of farm instruments. She grabbed the first one she could reach, and brought the tip of a shovel blade down on the back of the old man's neck, severing his spinal cord. He lay still on the barn floor, eyes still wide open, looking hungry, but he was dead.

  Veronica stumbled back until she hit a wall. Then slid down and curled herself into a ball as she cried. Timber nudged her and whimpered. She wiped her tears and got up. She secured the barn door with a large wooden plank on some brackets. They didn't need any of those things coming in after them. That would be a disaster.

  She slowly searched the large barn to see if there were any more hidden surprises. There were none. But she found a little corner, full of supplies, a radio, and food. A comfy looking sleeping bag with an old book on top was spread out next to an old wood stove. The man had been here for a while. He probably thought it was safe. She wondered how he got sick and if he was related to the woman and toddler, but pushed the thought from her head. She couldn't think about anyone else right now. What was she going to do?

  The desire to stay alive burned at her core like an Olympic torch. For the first time since Alejandro died, she truly wanted to live. Not for him, but for her.

  She stripped off her wet clothes and hung them on the fence separating some paddocks, one of which was full of chickens. She put some wood in the old stove and was able to get it to light. It didn't take long for the whole barn to warm up to a toasty level.

  Veronica dug through the hay in the chickens’ area and found some eggs, which she scrambled up and fed to Timber and herself. She took an old bucket and climbed up the loft of the barn. She placed it in the loft shed window to catch rainwater. The rain was still coming down in torrents. And she wondered if a tornado would follow. That's just what she needed, a natural disaster during the apocalypse. She closed the window as much as she could, without
knocking the bucket over and went back downstairs. She glanced over in the house's direction, but couldn't see it through the pouring rain. Did that woman and that child get out of the house? Were they hunting for her out in those fields? A shudder went down her spine.

  Tucked in the old man’s things was an old crank emergency radio. Rows of canned food lined the wall. Everything so neatly organized. He had really been prepared to stay here for the long haul. The radio had a little solar power panel on it. She gave it a crank.

  An announcement broadcasted on a loop, talking about safe zones and listing towns she didn't recognize. She pulled out her map, looked for the towns but couldn't find them. She had no idea where she was, or how close to one of these said safe zones she could be. How could she go hunting for a safe zone when she didn't even know where she was?

  She found a can of tinned ham and opened it. She heated some slices on the stove for herself and gave some cold slices to Timber. He'd already lost some weight, just in the days since she’s had him. He ate his cold dinner and rolled in the hay with a happy smile plastered across his face.

  When her clothes were finally dry, she redressed. She found a few pieces of the old man's clean clothes and shredded them into strips of fabric. She undid the bandage on her hand and examined her wound. The bite was completely scabbed over. There was no redness, no black lines. Veronica turned her hand over and ran her eyes up her arm, looking for signs that she was sick. Signs that she was close to the end, but found none. How is this possible?

  So many unknowns in this world, and now Veronica was the most unknown of all. She re-wrapped the wound to keep it from getting dirty and laid back on a sleeping bag propped up in some hay, next to the nice warm stove. The rain was slowing outside. The pitter patter of drops on the old roof along with Timber’s comforting body next to her, combined with utter exhaustion, soon had her in a deep sleep.

  Banging on the barn door startled Veronica awake. When she sat up, the whole barn and the sky outside the loft window was dark.