A cold shiver tightens my skin. I think my whole town is… dead. I should leave, like Daddy said. Even Max suggested it. Oh, Max. Imagining him lying in his bed with his body stiffening wrings a tear from my eye, but I’m sick of crying. So, I push him and Kat from my mind and refocus on the graves.
My parents deserve better than this shallow, dirty depression in the ground, but there’s nothing more I can do.
Another few hours, and the holes are deep enough, I hope.
I lovingly wrap Mamma in soft, bamboo sheets, then carry her down the hall. Even though she’s small, like me, the weight of her body is significant, so I stop and rest every couple of minutes.
Black anger courses in me again. It isn’t right that a daughter loses both of her parents and then has to bury them with her own hands. I let the fury spur a burst of energy and manage to make it onto the deck. I almost wish one of the hateful spheres would show up right now, because I’d grab the shotgun and blast the fucker with everything I have.
Eventually, I get her body to the dirt and ease her inside.
I repeat the arduous process with Daddy, except I can’t carry him because he’s too heavy. It takes me close to an hour to maneuver him outside. Pulling on the end of the sheet wrapped around his feet, I carefully drag him across the floor and to his grave.
In the distance, a rumble of thunder shakes the ground.
Great, an early spring storm probably heading this way. The day just keeps getting better.
Exhausted, yet determined to finish this final task, I scrape dirt over their bodies, the plink and thumps making me cringe inside, as if they can feel the soil hitting their bodies.
“I’m sorry.” A drop of rain falls onto the back of my sweaty neck, and the coolness is refreshing.
When I’m satisfied they’re properly covered, I grab some red stone next to the shed and put one at the head of each grave. I spread out on the undisturbed ground lying in-between and put a hand on each fresh mound. I relax my body against the ground and wait for the rain.
Between the branches of the persimmon tree above, dark clouds roll in. An occasional burst of lightning streaks across the sky. Fat, cold raindrops fall faster, soaking my t-shirt and cooling my skin, but I don’t care.
I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. Maybe lightning will strike me. A loud crack of thunder shakes the earth. It’s probably somewhere around seven in the evening, and the clouds make it as dark as full night. I really could stay out here, take my chances and hope for a strike, stop eating and drinking, let nature take its course. I close my eyes.
Something soft and warm brushes against my cold forehead. ‘You’re a survivor, not a quitter,’ a voice whispers, and I could swear it’s deep, like Daddy’s.
“I’m nothing anymore.” The sky streaks with purple flashes, but there’s no one here. Maybe I’m losing my sanity.
Max’s words float inside my head. Bury the past—this town, me, Kat, everything—if you have to.
Easier said than done, Max.
The storm rages through the night and I continue lying on the ground, contemplating the last two days, shivering in the pouring rain, my clothing soaked through. A survivor would get to her feet and give this world a one-finger salute, but still I hesitate. It would be so easy to give in to the despair and heartbreak. Surviving alone will be difficult. But I’m not alone, not yet anyhow. If Sissy’s immune to the virus too, then she’s without her family, like me.
Daddy told me to make my way to her, but hundreds upon hundreds of miles lie between Texas and Florida. It’ll take months to get there, not to mention having to worry about alien spaceships zooming over my head and keeping myself fed.
Sissy. If I can survive and find Sissy, then maybe something good can come out of such ugliness.
With a heavy heart, I get to my feet. Water pools around my shoes, mixing in the fresh topsoil of the graves. The drenching rain beats on the ground, and blasts of thunder assault my ears.
“I’ll try to find her.” My words are small in the raging storm, yet they give me a push of courage and focus.
Slogging through the dead, wet grass and puddles in the dark backyard, I make my way into the house, change into dry clothes, and crash into bed.
Tomorrow, I’ll gather what I need, then check the town for any other survivors. If there aren’t any, I’ll make my way to Abilene, since I’ll be following I-20 to Florida and it’ll be on the way.
“I’ll choose survival, Daddy,” I whisper, and give in to the night.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I wake as the sun rises. With my backpack in one hand, I head straight to the cellar, averting my eyes so I don’t see the freshly turned dirt marking Mamma and Daddy’s bodies lying under the wet ground.
Stop thinking about it.
A pre-packed rucksack hangs from a hook. Inside is a two-person tent, cooking supplies, and a sleeping bag. I cram as much food as I can inside and give the dank-smelling cellar one last glance, remembering Kat’s laughter, Max’s touch, and the warmth of their friendship.
“I’ll miss you two.” Sniffing back a sob, I shoulder the camping gear. “I wish I would’ve kissed you that day, Max.” I give my head a shake and shut the memory away.
Need to rummage the kitchen and stash some coffee and the metal pitcher.
After I stuff more supplies in my extra backpack, I head to my room and pick out several pictures of me and my family in various poses. My thumb traces their smiling faces, and I stow them in a side pocket to keep them safe. Max’s stress ball follows, and I zip the small pouch closed.
I finger the green necklace Kat made for me and a tiny smile pulls at my lips. She’d been so proud presenting it to me. Not wanting to risk losing such a precious gift, I stuff it inside the bag, too.
Turning in a circle, I cast one last look around the room, and decide to add a change of clothes. Anything else I’ll need will require scavenging on the way to Florida.
A long sigh leaves my mouth. I wish I could take so much more, but I need to be practical. Food’s my most important commodity. Heading to the living room to grab the shotgun and my pistol, I carefully close the door on my room—and my old life.
Survive and find Sissy. I’d always wanted to leave Callahan, but not like this: with my heart ripped to shreds and everyone I’ve ever loved dead.
My eyes swing to Mr. Miller’s house. I’ll check on him, but I’m pretty sure of what I’ll find. If he were alive, he would’ve stopped in this morning like every day prior.
For a fleeting moment, an urge to run to Max pounds inside my head, thrumming through my limbs, begging me to make one last pitstop to verify he’s really gone.
But that goddamned promise I made stays my feet. No one survives this virus as far as I can tell. I won’t dishonor myself by breaking my word to him, no matter how badly I crave his comfort one last time. Still, it’s hard to let him go, to let Kat go, to let my parents go.
Let the dead rest, Tilly. Mamma’s voice, though it’s only in my head, is comforting.
Without a backward glance, I step onto the front porch and lock the door behind me.
I’m a survivor, and no matter what the world—or aliens—throw my way, I will not be a victim. I will be strong, resilient, and brave. My sister needs me, and I won’t let her down.
Mr. Miller’s house sits with its darkened windows, foreboding and imposing. Still, I make myself knock on his door. When he doesn’t answer, I bang harder and put my ear to the metal.
No scuffing of feet or murmurs reach my ears. He’s dead, Tilly, like everyone else. And if I go inside to verify what I already know, I’ll want to bury him. From there, I’ll check every house in the neighborhood and bury them, too. It’ll become a crutch, a reason to not move forward and to stay where I’ll always be anchored and alone.
Max was right—they’re just bodies now. I can’t save anyone but myself and my sister. The only way to move forward is to move.
When I’m straddling the bike
, I strap the bag with the camping gear onto the handles and adjust my khaki backpack so it rests comfortably on my shoulders.
I pedal. There’s no one moving about. Every house lies dark and quiet. The gate’s open without any guards to wave me through.
A woodpecker beats one of the logs of the gate, his constant pecking echoing in the otherwise silent morning.
Gray clouds cover the sky, and the air is heavy and humid with the threat of another storm.
I pass the convenience store in Eulan, where Daddy broke Leonard’s finger, and smile. “I miss you, Daddy.”
Miles fly by, and I see no one else. It feels like I’m the last person in the world. This thought terrifies me. What if I am the only human left alive? Sissy, don’t forget about her. No, if I’m immune, there are others out there. I need to find them.
On the horizon, black thunderheads appear.
“Great. Just what I need.” I’ll have to set up camp somewhere, but the thought of staying in the flimsy tent makes me uneasy.
Finally, after dodging abandoned cars on the highway, I spot a motel sign in the distance. Fueled by the idea of staying in a real room, I switch the bike to a higher gear and pump my legs.
As I get closer, its copper roof beckons me like a shining jewel. Pink-orange terra cotta walls cover the exterior. A white plastic chair sits outside a closed door marked number forty-eight. On the sidewalk, next to the chair is a bucket filled with old cigarette butts.
In my mind, a clear picture of Daddy standing outside smoking hits me, squeezing my chest.
When I walk closer, cigarette smoke winds a lazy path into the air, and I stumble. Someone’s here—I’m not alone.
My heart races and I glance around, looking for the owner of the burning cancer stick. The smell hits me in the gut, and I close my eyes for a moment and inhale it, wishing it were my dad. I’d never gripe again if I could see him and Mamma alive and well.
A cautious burst of delight swims in my blood. Someone else is here. I’m not alone.
“Hello?” I turn toward the door and notice it’s partway open, as if letting in fresh air. “Is anyone here?”
“Hey,” a male voice calls from inside the room. “One moment. Let me get decent.”
Excitement and relief war within my heart. Another survivor like me. Things are going to be okay. I’ve found shelter and another living soul on my first stop.
Your biggest weakness is trust—you give it too easily. Max’s words whisper in my head. I shut it away. What do you know? You died and left me alone.
The door glides open, and the silhouette of a man appears. “Come on in before the storm hits.” His arm sweeps toward the darkened room.
At least I’ll be out of the rain and won’t be alone tonight.
The corner of a Bible appears just inside the door, resting on a dresser.
It’s a sign everything’s going to be okay. Sissy, hang on, I’m coming for you.
I take a deep breath and step inside.
Thank you so much for reading this prequel.
This is not the end of Tilly’s journey, but only the beginning. The Descendant, available here https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZWHVKBP picks up where this leaves off, starting the Baltin Trilogy. She meets Kodiak—her faithful canine companion—and Jareth, a charismatic stranger who keeps his secrets close but still finds a way into her heart, which eases the ache of loss somewhat. But of course, like everything else in life, love comes at a price.
Tilly has a long road ahead of her, but I wanted you, the reader, to understand why she is the way she is—what she’s lost and why she’s so driven to do the things she does, even if they make you want to shake some sense into her fiery little head. If you haven’t read the trilogy, then you’re in for a real treat, trust me. Things get better for our little potty-mouthed spitfire.
If you enjoyed The Intrusion, I hope you’ll find a few seconds to give it a rating on Amazon, and if you have a spare minute, I’d love to read your review, even if it’s only a sentence or two. Sometimes, a review is the only reason a person will try a new author, which motivates me to keep writing all these crazy places and characters.
If you’d like to try my other novels, here are their links:
Savage Worlds Series:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B084348SBG
The Descendant:Baltin Trilogy Book 1
The Betrayer:Baltin Trilogy Book 2
The Redeemer: Baltin Trilogy Book 3
The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel Book 0
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089ZK7J65
Ravenlight Cycles:
Ravenlight Book 1
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CTW2H6H
Ravensong Book 2
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08PQLBJ5W
Fallen Angels Series:
Cursed: Fallen Angels Book One (Spring 2021)
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08C4KXBDB
Fallen: Fallen Angels Book Two (Summer 2021)
Behind the Lyrics: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08MYGBHFH
Works written under Mina Raye:
Dark Nights Series:
Sacha Shepperd Ninnette and the Dark Night
www.amazon.com/dp/B086SH29VL
The Last Dragon: Dark Nights Book 2 (July 2021)
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08FFXD56H
Acknowledgments
There are so many people I need to acknowledge, yet I don’t think either of us have the time for it, so I’ll keep it brief.
First, I’d like to thank Michelle De La Garza. If it weren’t for her earlier training and guidance, this story would’ve never happened in the first place.
Next, I want to thank my readers—especially Lisa Jane Koea, down there at the bottom of the world. I can always count on you to keep me motivated with your enthusiasm for my writing, your love for Jareth, and your unfailing fan support.
As always, I want to thank my mother, who always reads each story—sometimes before the editor has had a chance to pick it apart. Thank you and I love you.
Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank The Book Review Directory’s editing services and Ava over at avdaldesigns.com for her awesome cover art.
The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel Page 25
