by C C Roth
The Samantha Sharp Chronicles
Book One
C.C. Roth
Copyright © 2020 C.C. Roth
All rights reserved
ISBN: 979-8-6386-6670-5
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1- Into the Woods
2- No Return
3- Everyone Needs a Friend
4- Say Goodbye
5- No More Tears
6- Cold and Alone
7- When the Ice Breaks
8- Revenge is Best Served Cold
9- All Aboard
10- Blood is Thicker Than Ice
About The Author
Thank You
1- Into the Woods
It began in Boston with the birds. All of a sudden they started getting sick and dropping dead. And the ones that weren’t sick and dying started to fly south. I mean all of the birds flew south. It was the most bizarre thing to look up and see so many forms moving across the sky, almost like an airborne army marching through the clouds in unison. Had we known better we would have packed up and followed. But what could we have done really? Bought ourselves an extra day or two maybe? After the birds the virus hit us. People, I mean. Everyone on the East Coast was getting sick so quickly and there wasn’t much you could do once you got it. The fever came first, then terrible headaches, then seizures, then death. It started during the holidays and with so many people traveling the spread was fast and violent. The CDC and government were in a panic. At first the president urged us to stay calm, stay home and report to hospitals only if you had symptoms. But then the hospitals were overrun. The virus had spread as far as Kansas after a few weeks. There were just too many people dying and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Soon there were bodies in the street right outside our door.
I’ll never forget it, staring out my bedroom window and seeing a woman just lying there on the sidewalk, a pool of vomit next to her face. Her color had faded and she almost didn’t seem real with that sickly gray pallor covering her flesh. That was where I had learned to ride my bike. When I was five my Dad and I made handprints in the cement when the city fixed the slab. We used to sit there and eat popsicles in the summer. I kissed my friend Will while standing on that sidewalk when we were 12, my first kiss, and now it was where this woman died. Alone and in pain with no hope of being saved. One month from the time the virus was first mentioned on the news and people were dying in the streets.
I decided to give her a name, the woman on the sidewalk. Mary. On January 10, 2022, Mary died in Humble, Ohio on a sidewalk. Someone loved her and would miss her very much but they were probably dead too. So did it even matter? Did she matter?
I could hear my family moving around downstairs, packing and organizing supplies. We were some of the lucky ones my mom kept saying. None of us were sick and none of us were going to get sick.
“If you don’t go near anyone, then you can’t catch it, right? So, we’ll just ride it out.” That was Mom’s mantra for a whole month.
She saved us. I thought she was crazy at first and told her so several times but somehow she saw it coming and she saved us. If she hadn’t forced us to stay home then I would’ve been at my friend’s house or in a movie theater, Dad would’ve gone to work, Mike would’ve been at the gym and it would’ve gotten us like it had gotten to almost everyone else. We would have all been dead in a matter of weeks.
"There'll be no living with her now," my father would tease. "Yes honey, I remember when you saved us all from the apocalypse," he'd say with a sardonic tone. Dad was good at that, finding humor where he probably shouldn't. Making us smile at the worst of times. He was really good at that.
I crept down the hallway from my bedroom and sat at the top of the stairs to watch and listen to my parents as they packed. They moved around one another almost as if they were dancing. A synchronized motion which only comes from spending everyday with the person you love. My mom was a knockout, everyone said so. Gorgeous auburn hair and soft, delicate features. Her eyes were kind too. Even when she was upset with us her eyes, although critical, always held a sweetness. My dad was tall and athletic. He used to run track in high school and was still running almost every day up until the virus broke out, then he was resigned to the treadmill only what with us being put on lockdown. His dark brown hair had become speckled with age but he wore it well. Together they were a couple to envy. That’s what my Aunt Serena always called them anyway, an enviable couple.
They had been pretty calm about the whole situation, all things considered. After everyone in the U.S. knew how bad the virus was and how bad it was going to get, my parents just sort of went into planning mode. Mom really excelled at planning. She worked in insurance and so threat analysis was sort of her thing. Who knew it would come in so handy one day? We had enough food and supplies to get us through another couple months at the house but then we would have to go. Mom didn’t want to wait until it was too late. She’d done the math and soon everyone else would too. If things didn’t get better, soon the electricity and water would be gone and we would be screwed. Our cell service and Wi-Fi had already been spotty with the influx of calls and streaming during the beginning of the outbreak. The electricity had flickered on and off several times as well, another warning that our days of modern luxuries might be numbered. The government had set up so-called Safe Zones but my mom wasn't having it. She kept saying if they couldn't prevent this from happening and if they couldn’t stop it now then there was no point in trusting them. So we were going to Dad’s family cabin about an hour away in Hillsboro. It was secluded and easy to secure and we could stay there as long as we needed to, unless things got worse. I had no idea at the time what worse could possibly mean since things already seemed to be as bad as they could get.
"It'll be great," Mom said to no one in particular as she stuffed another sweater in a bag. "It'll be like when the kids were little and we'd go hiking and fish. We'll make it fun." She looked satisfied with herself for saying this, as if it would cement the lie in a stone of truth.
"Yeah, fun," my dad echoed. "We’ll have a really fun family vacation escaping the deadly virus sweeping across the country.”
A small giggle escaped me.
“Thank you for that, Jackson,” Mom said. “As always, you being a total smartass is really helpful.” She grinned a little in spite of herself then quickly turned to me as if an alarm had gone off alerting her I was sitting around doing nothing. “Sam, come down and give us a hand with the sleeping bags please. They’re all wadded up in a mess.”
“There’s a dead person outside. In case anyone cares.” I don’t know why I said it like that but I did. Everyone paused for a minute and exchanged a quick look then kept on with their task as if I’d said nothing at all.
“Well that’s one of the many reasons we are leaving,” Mom replied coolly. “So please come down and help.”
I swear sometimes nothing would rattle that woman. I plodded down the stairs and started the task of folding and rolling the sleeping bags. My dad gave me a wink as he passed by with a cardboard box full of canned food, our food for the foreseeable future. As always the TV was on in the background showing the latest updates on our current status. How many dead, how many will be dead, when they think we will stop dying. It wasn’t exactly a feel good show. There weren’t any more feel good things. Just panic and fear everywhere. It had become the permanent backdrop to every day. Death. Death was the low hum of a fan or the constant rolling of the ocean waves on a beach. All day, death.
Mike kicked the sleeping bag I was folding and stuck his tongue out in an exaggerated juvenile taunt. I replied with an equally ridiculous face, crossing my eyes and puffing out my che
eks. My big brother was really a sweetheart and we got along pretty well most of the time. He was a senior and only two years older than me which meant I’d been torturing him from day one, not that he ever complained. Mike was a lot like Mom in that way, very kind and always calm. I did not inherit the same genes he did. Patience and good will always seemed tedious to me while it was simply just in his nature. He’d put up with a lot but whenever I did get on his nerves he’d just laugh and tell me I had “little dog syndrome”, an ongoing jab at my lack of height. Mike was a big guy, super popular, and did really well on the wrestling team at school which meant he could’ve been a real jerk if he wanted to, but he wasn’t. It was no small feat that he ended up as sweet as he was and only mildly self-absorbed for a teenager. He’d always been there for me whenever I needed him and he was always looking out for me even when I was being an ass, which was a lot. He was my rock. That’s why it was such a shock when I’d found him in front of the TV two nights before we left for the cabin.
It was clear from his face he’d been crying. Before this all happened, I never thought I’d see my brother cry; he was so proud, so guarded with his emotions. I started to leave him quietly so as not to embarrass him but I couldn’t turn away. I just stared at his tear drenched face and took it in. Seeing him breakdown like that rooted a dark coldness inside me and I could feel it growing. A coldness born of fear and hate, twisting in my soul and threatening to grow larger. I hated whoever did this to us. I hated that everyone I knew was dying. And I hated seeing my brother cry. I went and sat next to him, not knowing what else to do. At first I thought he’d be ashamed but he didn’t care, not anymore. He told me we’d be okay. That Mom and Dad would take care of us, and he would take care of me. He could see how freaked out I was about leaving.
“I promise I’ll always take care of you, Sam. We’re going to be fine.”
I cried harder than I ever had before and he let me. After a while, when I had calmed down, he told me, “This is the last time we get to do this, Sam. After tonight, no more tears. This is going to be a new world and it’s not going to be like it was before. Not ever again. You can be sad and you can hate, but no more tears. You have to be strong. Stronger than you ever thought you could be. If you’re strong, you’ll survive. Promise me. No more tears, okay? Promise?”
I nodded as if I understood but I didn’t know if it was a promise I could keep. I turned toward the television and watched people I didn’t know anything about who lived in a country I probably couldn’t find on a map, dancing in the streets and burning our flag. They were celebrating. Hundreds of thousands of American lives were gone and these people were celebrating. Several radical terrorist groups had taken responsibility for the outbreak, claiming it as a victory for their people and their God. Publicly screaming to their followers that they had destroyed the American infidels and now their God would reward them. No one knew yet who had actually done it or exactly why, but we did know it was a calculated attack.
The virus had been engineered and delivered to Boston in November where it began to spread across the country. A shipment of infected poultry was the perfect carrier. It attacked the local bird population, causing a ton of concern for our feathered friends until people started getting sick as well. Then it was too late. The virus had spread to humans, just as it was meant to. The death toll on the East Coast was astronomical and showed no signs of slowing. Many fingers were being pointed but everyone who was capable of such an attack was denying it, so far anyway. The president had been making a lot of angry speeches about justice and finding the people responsible, saying our government would stop at nothing to bring retribution to our citizens. Too bad for him a lot of people were sending the blame his way for creating dangerous tension over new trade tariffs. I’d never bothered to pay attention to the news or politics, but I remember intently ignoring my Government teacher last year as he went on an epic rant about why our president had been elected. In an attempt to spark a debate, he was making a big scene about how an outsider would “shake things up”, whatever that meant. Things were definitely shaken up, but I doubt this was what he had in mind. All we knew for certain was our entire country was in real danger of being wiped out and no one knew who was truly at fault. Soon enough there would be no denying it. The world would know the truth and there would be no going back.
Mom’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Sam, when you’re finished day-dreaming please go make sure you have your bag packed. I don’t want any last-minute drama tomorrow about what you’re bringing.”
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to hide it. Mom was really getting on my nerves lately. Okay so maybe “lately” wasn’t super accurate, more like “forever”. It wasn’t just that we’d been trapped in the house together since November. It’d started before, years ago actually. But it seemed the older I got the further apart we grew. I wasn’t sure why and most of the time I didn’t even think about the why. I just knew she had clearly been put on this earth to torture me and remind me of all my many flaws. Dad said we always butted heads because we were so alike, which surely had to be one of his jokes I just didn’t get. I loved my parents and they were really pretty great compared to some of the other parents I’d met. But most of the time I felt like I was falling short in my mother’s eyes. She always looked at me like she wanted to say something but then wouldn’t, like she was holding something back. I just assumed she was trying not to hurt my feelings by keeping her disappointment to herself. She had never been really affectionate with me which I didn’t think was odd until I got older and could see how other moms acted. They were constantly hovering and giving so many hugs that their kids were pushing them away. But not her, she always kept her distance. It was as if she didn’t even want me there in the first place. Sometimes I’d catch her watching me with that critical stare and it would drive me nuts. Most of the time I tried not to care. She was just different, or maybe I was. Alright, I definitely was different but that didn’t mean I was imagining her strangeness. Either way, things were the way they were and there didn’t seem to be a way to change it.
We finished packing up our house and prepared to say goodbye. Every room looked so foreign all of a sudden. I was still in disbelief that we had to leave in the morning. I had lived in that home all my life. My room with the awesome paint colors I’d picked out, the kitchen where we made Christmas cookies every year, the family room where Mike and I battled over possession of the remote control. I didn’t know if we’d ever see any of it again. Sleep came to me late that night and with a heavy apprehension of changes to come. How long would we have to be gone? Would our house be okay or would it get trashed like some of the places I’d seen on the news? It freaked me out to think about some stranger coming into my room and going through all my things. I tossed and struggled with my blanket fidgeting for comfort that wouldn’t come. Finally, I passed out while watching videos on my phone. Footage of survivors trying to cross into neighboring states in the west where the spread hadn’t been so bad.
A reporter narrated the scene. “With all air travel closed to civilians, thousands of people have taken to the road in an attempt to seek refuge in what they believe to be safer states. The travel ban is still being enforced and citizens are urged to remain home for their own safety or seek shelter in one of the many emergency facilities across the Midwest. However, as you can see from the standstill traffic on our highways, few are adhering to that travel ban.”
Cars were lined up for what seemed like endless miles, a torturous parade of the doomed trying to escape but succeeding only in creeping closer to their fate.
They won’t make it, I thought to myself.
✽✽✽
I awoke the next morning to my mother sitting on my bed, her hand gently nudging my arm. Her head was tilted as she watched the sleep leave my face and confusion set in.
“Everything’s alright. It’s just time to get ready. We’re leaving in an hour, okay?”
It wasn’t okay but I nodded
groggily.
“Good. Breakfast is downstairs when you’re ready.” She paused and reached a hand out to brush the dark strands of hair that had fallen across my forehead. She smiled sweetly but couldn’t seem to find the words she wanted. “You know I love you right, Sam?”
It wasn’t like her to be overly mushy. It’d caught me off guard.
“Mom, of course I do,” I said annoyed.
“Good.” Her face warmed with a smile and once again I could see she had more to say but didn’t. What was she holding back? “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.” She closed the door and I heard her footsteps fade down the hall.
They told us to take only what we couldn’t live without but when you’re 16 that feels like everything. I stood in the middle of my bedroom slowly turning in a circle and wished for the hundredth time for this to be just a dream. I had packed almost all my clothes last night, all the practical ones anyway and some of my favorite books too. With resentment and sadness, I quickly grabbed a few pictures off the wall above my desk and stuffed them into my favorite backpack. Photos of my best friend Nia and me making ridiculous faces and torturing each other’s hair into awful updos. I hadn’t heard from her in a week. Last time we’d talked she was going to the hospital with her parents and she was really scared. She had begged them to let her stay home so she wouldn’t catch it but her dad was sick and her mom didn’t know what else to do. I’d probably never see her again.
My brother and I ate our oatmeal in silence as Mom and Dad loaded the last of our belongings into the jeep. We had to wear hospital masks around our necks in case we came close to other people.
“The threat of getting sick is still very real,” Mom was saying intently. “You don’t go near anyone or touch anyone. The second you see another person you put your mask on. Got it?”
