Beyond Death: Origins, Book 1 (4 page)

Only the soft glow from the TV lit the dark living room Jayda and Richard huddled together in. The horrors on the screen rivaled the one in their bathroom. Jayda won the argument to leave the body there. She didn’t want Richard touching it, for one. If this started as meningitis, and Lisa had been the walking dead, then they needed to stay far away from the possibly contagious body. She’d left the bat in there as well.

They’d taken turns guarding the door as they’d gotten dressed for the day at three in the morning. Gulping coffee, they watched over and over again the scenes from around the country on CNN. Every town hit, many nearly devastated, disbelief could only be silenced by the memory of Lisa.

No one had said the word zombie. Well, at least none of the media had. People on the streets screamed it. They screamed about the wrath of god and the apocalypse too. Everywhere people lay dead or the sick/dead walked. Even on their local channel, no street had looked recognizable with broken glass and fires burning.

Richard had wanted to leave for some reason. He suggested he could find them a safer haven with his police connections. Jayda couldn’t be convinced. The numerous unanswered phone calls had made him see her point. They’d chosen to obey orders and stay home. Their quiet terror was interrupted by a banging on the door.

“See, it’s another one,” Richard said in a hushed yell. “I told you we should leave.”

Lisa had broken the big picture window in the living room. Richard had boarded it up with everything he could find in the garage as well as the board from the bottom of the spare bed. Their emptied china closet now lodged in front of it, still every noise had them waiting for a body to break through.

“Just listen. They don’t talk, so let’s investigate first,” Jayda suggested.

Always the clearer head in the relationship, she walked to the door. She felt more confident with her prosthetic leg on now. As she approached, she heard their neighbor from across the street yelling her name. Richard had followed and grabbed her to stop a few feet from the door.

“Talk to her. Check it out before you open the door,” Richard urged.

“They can’t talk, remember?”

“Still, she could be sick, and we can’t have her getting worse or falling dead here. We can’t risk getting it either.”

“Good thinking,” Jayda praised him.

“Sherri, what’s going on?”

“Jayda, please let me in. Hurry!” came Sherri’s sobbing voice.

“Is anyone with you?”

“No. No one at all. The street is deserted. It’s my husband. He’s sick, and like those on TV, he woke up from a nap angry. He’s so feverish he’s not even talking, just moaning. But he keeps coming at me. When I couldn’t talk to him or keep running, I shut him in and ran over here.”

“Did he bite or scratch you?” Jayda asked.

“No. He’s too wobbly. But he seemed to get more agitated and faster, so I just left. I wanted to get you to help me. You’re the one with the medical background.”

“Have you been watching the TV?” Richard asked.

“No. I haven’t had time. Stan woke up so ill, I’ve just cared for him all day. Something was wrong with the doctor’s office phone, and when I wanted to take him to the emergency room, he kept saying to wait, he felt too sick to go. He wanted to take a nap. He hoped he would wake up better. He did that to me all day. I was so afraid to leave his side that I just sat by the bed and read a book or stared at him. I fell asleep myself eventually. Then, in the middle of the night, he woke up this way.”

“You’re sure he didn’t touch you and you don’t feel sick at all?” Jayda asked again.

“No. Please, come help him,” she sobbed.

Jayda opened the door with Richard right beside her. She knew he was ready to attack. He’d gotten several weapons ranging from a tire iron to a hammer and stacked them in the living room. He had a metal rod in his hand at the moment.

“Listen, Sherri. You’re husband is too sick to be around. You have to come in here with us where you’ll be safe,” Jayda coaxed.

“No. You have to help him.”

“I can’t. Listen, you need to come in here and watch a minute of the news. It will explain what’s happened to him,” Jayda pulled Sherri in.

Richard shut the door and locked it behind her. They watched her watch the news. They argued back and forth trying to catch her up and get her to understand.

“It doesn’t make sense. You’re telling me that Stan died in his sleep and came back a zombie? That’s not funny or possible,” Sherri wept.

“I don’t know for sure. I’m telling you that Lisa looked dead when she broke in here. She crashed through a window, destroyed the house, and we could barely subdue her. We hit her with a bat and she got back up and lunged for me again,” Jayda explained. “Did Stan look odd? Was his flesh discolored? Were his eyes glazed?”

“Yes, but he looked worse by the hour yesterday. So by the time he woke up early this morning, with no lights on and only the sunrise to see by, I didn’t get a good look,” Sherri explained. “Please, come over and look at him, Jayda.”

“How did he not touch you?” Richard asked.

“I woke to his groan. So I was walking toward him when he lunged at me. I guess instinct made me move. I just assumed he’d lost his mind with fever or something. Nothing I said made him or the horrible moans stop, so I came to get Jayda. I’d hid downstairs and tried to the call the police, but the phone line was down or something still. Guess I get why now.”

“I’ve always told you that you needed to watch more TV and read less books,” Jayda said in an attempt to lighten the mood, even if only a smidge.

“Please come over. You said you don’t know for sure,” Sherri begged.

“No!” Richard yelled. “No one is going over there.”

Jayda shot him a look then urged Sherri to come to the bathroom. With the door only cracked, one look at Lisa had Sherri retching.

“I’ve told you in detail what happened. Did Stan look like this, act like that?” Jayda asked softly.

“Yes,” Sherri sobbed. “So, he’s dead?”

“Maybe. Either way, from what they say on TV, he’s lost. There hasn’t been a case of someone with the virus getting better,” Jayda said softly.

“Please. Please, Jayda. Just come across the street and look at him. I couldn’t take the thought of him attacking someone,” Sherri begged.

That was all it took. Jayda fought with Richard and convinced him to go across the street. She promised they’d be smart about it. They’d look both ways and if safe, go across. They’d also look in the windows, and if safe, go in armed. He’d relented between the two women begging him. Jayda had known he would.

With the sky deep pink with the sunrise, they’d gotten across the street safely, with Richard the lookout. The women peeked in the windows. Through the living room sheers, they could see him bumbling around. They heard his deep, guttural groans. Sherri whimpered beside Jayda with her hand over her mouth. Stan broke a lamp with his clumsy walk, making Sherri shriek. He turned to the window then.

“Richard,” Jayda demanded his attention. “We need to go around back now. He’s spotted us and will break through this window.”

Richard obeyed. Sherri got the hidden key and let them in the back. They agreed to follow the plan they had come up with at Jayda’s.

Jayda held out the blankets they’d brought from home, giving one each to her husband and her neighbor. They moved in unison to the living room. Stan turned to them as they entered. As expected, he made short time of coming at them. As he lunged, both Richard and Sherri tossed the heavy wool camping blankets over Stan. He fought and stumbled, but Richard and Sherri had been able to sandwich him as Jayda went in to put his head in a hold.

They moved as quickly as they could with the fierce fighter under their blankets. An even match for all three of them, they jerked with each step. Sherri screamed once and struggled to keep up her end of the deal. Jayda fought with all her might to keep the man’s head in her lock. She felt Stan’s hand hit her good leg, and she stumbled back into the wall.

Her breath knocked from her a second, she managed to keep her hold. In the moment’s pause of their journey, Sherri managed to get her husband’s arm secured again.  After the winded quick count of one, the three of them pushed on two. As Richard slammed the door closed, Sherri fell to the floor in tears. Jayda sat beside her, gathering the woman in her arms. Each wrenching sob that tore from her chest vibrated through Jayda.

“I love him,” she cried. “I need to see him one last time!”

Sherri jumped from Jayda’s grasp. In seconds, she tore from the room. Richard froze, but Jayda yelled at him to follow her as she got herself back to standing. She found Richard holding Sherri as she looked through the window. When Jayda got to them, Stan had gotten out of the blankets and raged around the room.

“Sherri, you need to do the kind thing and let us put him out of his misery,” Jayda said.

As something crashed inside the room and an animalistic cry rang out, Sherri nodded her head. As Richard moved to leave, she grabbed his arm.

“There’s a gun in the drawer by our bed. The lock to the drawer is hanging in the kitchen cabinet closet to the refrigerator. Please, use that. It’s quicker,” Sherri asked in a barely audible tone.

“I’ll do it,” Jayda said. “I’m an excellent marksman. It seems that the strike to the head seems the key. We saw on TV, in the background of one shot, a guy get shot multiple times and still attack a man. By the time the reporter realized, the live feed had gone too long to live edit it. I can make the shot. Richard, take her back to the house.”

He shook his head.

“Richard, I fought in a damn war. I can do this. Go. Take her now,” Jayda demanded and then stormed off.

By the time the horrible deed was over, she found her husband glaring at her with love in his eyes, sitting on the couch holding a sobbing Sherri. After telling him she just needed a minute, she walked upstairs to wash her hands and face.

Walking through her bedroom, she saw her cell phone light up. Someone was calling her. By the time she grabbed it, the call had gone to voicemail. Walking into the bathroom, she swiped the screen. She gasped to see Chase’s name come up. He’d called each year on the anniversary of the day she lost her leg. Today wasn’t that day. It had to be bad news.

Shutting the bathroom door, with a deep breath, she clicked the button to return the call. 

“Again, there is a certain irony to the fact that we are attempting to exploit these cells against cancer. It’s like fighting fire with fire. Given the profound uncertainty of the stem cells and the narrow parameters within which they interact with the immune system, we are nothing more than two little boys playing with matches here,” Lucas exclaimed.

Chase watched him push his hand through his hair. His face red and his breaths in short pants, he knew he had to stop what he was doing and talk the kid down from his scientific failure ledge. His research on the living dead had brought about nothing but questions so far anyway.

“Now, you know that the history of biomedical research has shown frustrated scientists time and again that the most amazing breakthroughs, the most triumphant discoveries, have often come from half-baked ideas considered not in any way promising by most researchers,” Chase reminded.

“Sure. You’ve said so many times. But I don’t think that’s going to happen here, not in this lab, not with this mouse, no matter how special we keep claiming he is,” Lucas retorted.

“It is a useful exercise, still, to dissect the specific effects of stem cells and to determine how beneficial they could possibly be in relation to immunotherapeutic medicine we already have. In the spectrum of things, we’ve already moved far beyond what we currently envisioned. We’ve clearly indicated that—”

Chase left off. An arc of pain shot through his temple. His hand went to rub the area as his brain tied together loose pieces of two puzzles. He rolled his shoulders back. Tight muscles screamed their protest. Despite the jitters, he grabbed his mug. As the cold coffee slid down his throat, he nearly choked. The coffee had had nothing to do with it.

“Lucas!” he yelled.

“What?” the boy shrieked.

He’d jumped and now looked at Chase like he was a mad scientist.  This only increased the pride welling up inside him.

“I think your special mouse there may just have found us a cure for this meningitis outbreak,” Chase exclaimed, his breathing faint.

“What? How?”

“It’s still developing in there, but I think it’s time to call on a friend from the military. Maybe what I have going could help whatever they’ve got going. Besides, we need to get out of here. Seems we’re never going to get through to the local authorities. I need to get to Jayda.”

Chase stepped into his office. A fleeting glance back at Lucas made him laugh. The boy stood there mouth open, jaw tense, and eyebrows furrowed. With a chuckle, he searched his phone for Daniel Sommers’ number. He blinked his eyes as the list of contacts blurred. Finding him, he dialed and attempted something similar to a prayer.

“Chase Douglas. What’s going on?” he heard Daniel answer.

“You sound about as good as I assumed you would. Rough out there?”

“It’s unbelievable and never-ending. We can’t catch a break. End of times shit. What do you need?” Daniel yawned.

“I think I have some research that might help. I assume some is already happening. I’ve been trapped in my lab by whatever these walking dead things are, and it seems in studying one of them I captured and the stem cell cancer vaccine my assistant and I were unsuccessfully working on has led me to a possible cure for this virus. It’s just in the beginning…”

Daniel cut him off, “We’ll take whatever we can get. Research here has become violent if you know what I mean?”

“All too well, unfortunately,” Chase answered through the lump in his throat. “So, were can we come, and by what route? From the news, nowhere looks safe.”

“Nowhere is safe. You still in UCLA?”

“Yes, but I need to pick up a few people first. They’re only about twenty minutes away at the most,” Chase added in a rush.

“Let me guess, Jayda? She’s your ex man. She has been for a long time,” Daniel chided.

“I have people to pick up. Just tell me if there is a safer route to take to the base?”

“Don’t come to the base. I can meet you in this obscure field about twenty miles out. You remember the one we called No Man’s Land? The highways have become mostly deserted. I’d stay on 1-5N as long as you can. The zombies follow those alive, are sniffing them out like dogs where they hide,” Daniel growled. “You’ll still encounter a few, but will be less likely to encounter a horde. You go get Jayda in a neighborhood and you’re toast.”

“I have to pick people up first,” Chase gave back as good as he’d gotten. “So, the government is officially calling them zombies now?”

“The government isn’t officially doing anything,” Daniel huffed. “Fine. You have three days man. You don’t show up then, I’m leaving without you.”

“Fine. Thanks,” Chase spat as he hung up.

He spurred Lucas into packing up what they’d need as he related the phone call. Lucas had secured the mouse in a micro freezer they could put behind the seats in the truck. The thing came with a car-lighter hook-up. As Lucas shoved supplies into a few small bags, Chase tried to shove his notes on both the mouse and the zombie into the bag with his laptop. It would die on the trip, but at least they could charge it back up at the base.

“We can’t just leave her like this,” Lucas sighed when the dead girl on the table made a moan louder than usual. “I think our faster movements are irritating her.”

“You should do it,” Chase directed.

“Why me? You’ve been the one killing them like Rambo. I’ve killed nothing bigger than a spider in my life,” Lucas choked out. “I wouldn’t even go hunting with my friend and his dad when they offered.”

“Exactly. What if we get separated? You need to know what to do. We’re going to have nothing better than the sharps we got here. You have to go in through the soft spot in the temple,” Chase encouraged as he placed a set of metal surgical scissors with long sturdy blades. “It’s going to take some arm muscle.”

“No!” Lucas stated, pulling his hands back.

“Take them now or die later,” Chase demanded, his hand outstretched.

Lucas did as requested of him. Chases watched the boy, scissors in hand, stand over the girl. Right before he plunged the scissors her way, his watery eyes closed. Blood spurted, but thankfully not nearly as much as if she’d been alive. He skin hung over her eyes where he’d sliced.

“All you did was piss her off. You have to keep your eyes open. Try again, and kill her. Then, ditch the lab coat. Not taking any chances with this blood, no matter how little is left.” Chase nudged him along.

A pang of guilt followed. Shaking his head, he focused in on the task at hand. He was determined not to let this kid down. Lucas, eyes wide with terror, this time slammed the scissors into the zombie’s head. Blood squirted rather than sprayed onto his hand, and the boy flipped out.

“You want to go down the hall and use the chemical shower?” Chase teased.

“Yes. So, not funny at all,” Lucas sighed as he scrubbed furiously at his skin.

Weighed down with bags, Lucas followed Chase out the back door. Their current perilous situation held back Chase’s laughs each time he looked back at Lucas. Chase had fallen easily back into active duty mode, and he knew how to take in a perimeter as he moved steadily along. Lucas tried to imitate behind him with all the grace of a toddler.

At Chase’s truck, they threw their stuff behind the seats and climbed in. No sooner had their doors slammed shut than a large group of moaning others came around a corner. They moved at a fast but unsteady pace right toward them. Chase only breathed again when the engine of the old truck roared to life. He left them in a cloud of dust as he took off to get out of Dodge. Only, it seemed the whole world now was Dodge, and they had nowhere good to go.