Tainted Reality (The Rememdium Series Book 2) (9 page)

Reed shook his head in disgust. “Dear Jesus, God in Heaven. Had the girl been bitten or scratched?”

“She said no, but when she noticed blood on her shirt after splittin’ the old broad’s skull, well, I think that’s what sent her thoughts over to suicide. She feared contamination.”

“Fear seems to be just as contagious as whatever the hell we’re dealing with,” Reed said.

“No doubt.”

They were only a few aisles away from automotive, yet the distance didn’t matter. Reed smelled the sour, rank stench of death. The foul, coppery odor of dead tissue and blood made his stomach lurch.

“Let me go inside and open the gate. Should make this easier, if that’s even possible,” Kyle offered.

Reed nodded and Kyle disappeared through a small door to the left. Reed closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. The smell of rotting flesh brought memories back from the first time he’d seen dead bodies.

He’d only been with Border Patrol for less than a year. A concerned citizen called and reported an abandoned semi-truck about eight miles from the border. Reed accompanied two others as backup, naively assuming they would find a delivery driver with a blown tire.

He'd been way off base.

When the SUV they were riding in topped a small rise, a horrible, rank odor wafted across the desert. A dilapidated vehicle that looked as though it had been driven through a battlefield, so dirty its original color was indiscernible, rested in silence over fifty yards away. Sgt. Reardon extracted masks from the glove box and handed one to Reed.

“Welcome to the real world, Newberry. You’re about to see what happens when illegals hitch a ride with someone they don’t know. They pay some bastard claiming to offer a better life across the border then get dumped off like yesterday’s garbage.”

Unwilling to show any fear or hesitation, Reed never said a word as they made their way to the back of the truck. When the sergeant opened the doors, the sights and smells of thirty rancid bodies overrode Reed’s bravado. When his shocked gaze landed on three children at the feet of a woman, their thin arms entwined with each other in a last ditch effort to offer comfort to one another, Reed’s stomach revolted. He spent the next ten minutes throwing up behind a mesquite tree, fighting the tears of disgust and sadness with each heave.

The sound of the metal door opening brought Reed back to the present. After securing his mask, he pushed the wheelbarrow until he reached the entrance, stopping next to Susie’s stiff body. The blood and fluids from her wound had turned dark crimson. One shoe was missing and her shirt was coated in dark mahogany.

“Let’s get her first. We’ll need to be careful with Mrs. Singleton,” Kyle said.

Nodding, Reed gritted his teeth as the two men worked in tandem. They wrapped the girl’s body in the black plastic tarp and hoisted her light frame into the wheelbarrow. After spreading out another large section of the plastic next to Mrs. Singleton, Reed pushed the disgust at her appearance down deep while grabbing her legs.

Kyle put his arms under her shoulders and they rolled her body onto what would be her grave shroud. “I’ve seen a lot of dead people in my day, but never anyone who looked like this. The color of the skin…all those weird, bluish lines all over her body? Disturbin’ doesn’t come close to describin’ it. Almost looks like roots took up residence under her skin.”

Reed bit his lip. “The eyes—the way they turn solid black—that’s what gets me. Well, and the fact they crave flesh. I hope whatever this shit is ain’t airborne.”

“If it is, then Walmart will be crawlin’ with undead shoppers interested in nothin’ they offer on the shelves.”

Reed chuckled softly. “I see why my sister is drawn to you. Your sense of humor is just as twisted and sick as hers.”

Kyle rolled the remainder of the plastic over Mrs. Singleton’s corpse. “You know what they say about humor—it’s insanity’s next of kin.”

Turning his head, Reed looked around to ensure they were still alone. Satisfied no one had followed them, he grabbed the handles and pushed the wheelbarrow forward. “We should keep to this back aisle so no one sees us. Let’s get these two situated in the trailer then get the others. It’s gonna take a few trips to remove six bodies.”

The sick chuckle from Kyle made Reed turn back around to face him. The look of sorrow and disgust on the man’s face gave Reed pause. He could tell Kyle was struggling to find words to express his thoughts.

Kyle’s facial muscles quivered while grinding his teeth. After swallowing twice, Kyle finally whispered, “We can get them in one trip. Three of them were children.”

God help us.

Children.

HUNTING SEASON ENDS - Saturday - December 20
^th
– 2:00 p.m.

Shaun Kilpatrick finished loading up his trophy buck, securing it to the back of his four-wheeler. The morning cold had been vanquished by warm sunshine. Taking off his gloves to finish tightening the rope, Shaun was thankful his fingers were no longer frozen. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Emmett Jefferies would be so jealous when they rolled up to camp. The buck was Shaun’s last tag for the season and Jefferies had yet to shoot one.

“What’s so funny?” Jared Starkson asked.

“Oh, just picturin’ the look of irritation on Emmett’s face. He’s gonna be pissed I won our bet.”

Jared laughed and it sounded louder than normal in the quiet woods. “You may have won, but I guarantee you he ain’t gonna pay up. The man’s tighter than a virgin’s asshole.”

“True, but you know, it ain’t about the money anyway. At least, not for me. I just love makin’ him mad.”

“Yeah, I get that. You ain’t changed none all these years. You’re worse than an old woman, holdin’ onto a grudge for somethin’ that happened ages ago.”

Shaun snorted. “You’d be singin’ a different tune had Emmett porked your girlfriend on prom night. In your own car.”

“Probably. The difference between the two of us is I wouldn’t still hang out with the douchebag. And I wouldn’t be a cop, either, since I’d have a felony arrest record for assault. I’da beat the fucker to a pulp.”

“Like I said, I enjoy tormentin’ him every chance I get. You know, showin’ him how much more of a man I am than he is. Tormentin’ lasts much longer than a beat-down.”

Jared shook his head and climbed onto his four-wheeler. “Ah, the age old ‘my dick is bigger than your dick’ game. Gotcha. Say, while we’re on the subject of tormentin’ others, want to explain to me why you haven’t kicked Craig out of the club yet? I mean, we’re riskin’ a lot by havin’ him here. What if he slipped and brought some shit here? We could lose our jobs.”

“You really suck as a friend sometimes. Craig just lost his way after Sabrina died. Would you still be as harsh with your criticism of Craig if it was the bottle he hit—like you tend to do—rather than coke?”

“Doesn’t matter because that ain’t what happened. Booze is legal to buy. Coke ain’t. End of story.”

“Craig’s been clean for three months now, so stop worryin’. He needs the support of his friends, not condemnation.”

“Will you use that same argument with the Chief? If so, I guarantee you it won’t work. You gotta let that thin skin of yours toughen up and stop bein’ so nice to others who can fuck up your world in a flash. That’s why, after we get back to camp, I’m headin’ home. Already got enough meat for the rest of the year, and I don’t want to tempt the fates any longer. Craig’s a liability.”

Ignoring the taunt, Shaun settled on his own machine after taking a picture of the fifteen-point buck. He clicked over to Facebook and tried to upload it, but nothing happened. The little blue ball in the corner continued to turn. “Damn woods! No cell service.”

“You and social media. You’re almost as obsessed with it as you are with Marian. Oh, and speakin’ of her, what’s goin’ on with you two? Rumor around town is your unit’s been seen at her office several times in the last week. Please tell me that’s not true. I can’t take any more of your bitchin’ about her shenanigans.”

Shaun grimaced at the mention of his estranged wife. “Gee, and I thought that’s what friends are for. Guess I was wrong. As I mentioned, your friendship skills are sorely lackin’.”

“Give me a break. I’ve endured way above my quota of listenin’ to you dissect your relationship. You married fools are the reason I stay single. You said after she whored around and got knocked up by another, the marriage was over. What’s changed now? Did she learn how to give a better blow job or agree to a three-way?”

A flame of anger ignited in Shaun’s gut. “Watch it, Starkson. That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about. We’re workin’ things out. We have no choice.”

Jared raised an inquisitive brow. “There are always choices, Shaun. What…oh, shit. Please tell me it ain’t yours?”

The anger from seconds ago dimmed as Shaun recalled the last discussion he had with Marian and her gynecologist. He hadn’t told a soul about the results of the DNA test since he found out two days ago. In a low whisper, Shaun replied, “Yeah, it’s mine.”

Jared’s dark brown eyes widened in shock. “Oh, shit. That does change things. If it were me, I’d already skedaddled out of town.”

Shaun let out a huff of air. “I was so shocked when I found out, a kitten could’ve knocked me over. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t mine. Still sort of numb about the whole thing. Can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Wow—me either. You’re a better man than me, Kil. Even if it was my bun in the oven, not sure I’d want to turn on the stove someone else has been cookin’ at.”

Despite the intense subject matter, Shaun couldn’t stop himself from laughing. His best friend since second grade had a sick sense of humor. “That’s why you’re the whore-dog and I’m the loyal retriever.”

“So, when does this little bundle of joy arrive?”

“Due date is January 26th. Oh, and in case you’re interested, it’s a girl.”

Jared let out a low whistle. “Let’s hope she takes after the loyal retriever side of the tree, not the—”

“Enough, Jared. Again, that’s my wife and child you’re talkin’ about,” Shaun grumbled.

The conversation ended when gunfire broke the silence of the woods. The sounds of weapons discharging were common during deer season and wasn’t the reason they both froze. What transformed the two friends from carefree hunters back to concerned cops was the amount, followed by the screams of grown men.

Exchanging glances with Jared, Shaun saw the worry he felt on the inside beaming across Jared’s face. They fired up their rides and flew through the woods back toward camp, which was several miles away.

Shaun topped the hill and stopped, turning off his four-wheeler. Jared did the same. “Let’s go in on foot.”

They both reached for their rifles and dismounted, creeping through the dense underbrush toward the encampment. Shaun and Jared had spent every hunting season in the same woods for over twenty years and knew every inch of the area.

The woods were bathed in complete silence. No chirps from birds or squirrels, not even the usual din of insects. As they picked their way closer, Shaun strained his ears for any sound. The gunshots had ceased, as well as the screaming. The stillness was almost more terrifying than the noise.

When they reached the edge of the camp, their original concerns morphed into fear.

The camping chairs surrounding the fire pit were all overturned, food and utensils left where they’d been dropped. Impressions in the dirt indicated a lot of activity.

“What the hell?” Shaun muttered.

Jared crept over and let his hand hover inches above the ashes. “Cold. Been out for a while.”

Shaun stepped over to the front porch, drawn to the disemboweled torso of the twelve-point buck Craig Jackson shot earlier. The thing had been ripped to pieces and strewn from end to end of the fifty-foot porch. Nothing was left of it but skin, antlers, and bone.

Glancing up, Shaun searched the area and counted all the vehicles. Sixteen—just like when they left—yet none of their hunting buddies were around. A cell phone was face-up on the ground, the edges coated in blood. Peering closer, he noticed the last number dialed was 9-1-1.

The front door to the eight-room cabin they all shared was wide open. Several sets of bloody footprints led inside. The bay window had been shot out, the shattered glass glistened in the afternoon sun.

“All their buggies are still here, too,” Jared whispered from Shaun’s right.

The hair on Shaun’s neck stood erect when something gold and shiny caught his eye.

Then another.

And another.

The empty shell casings left a trail from the front porch into the interior. Shawn snapped his fingers and pointed. Jared’s face blanched when he saw the vast amount of spent ammunition and blood spatter.

Both men went into cop mode. They swept the cabin, keeping their steps tight and quiet as they followed the trail of bullets and blood. When they reached the back door in the kitchen, bloody hand prints on the floor, walls, and doorknob greeted them.

Along with an open door and a strange, chomping sound from the left on the back porch.

Shaun recognized the noise first and mouthed,
“Bear?”