The Survivor Chronicles (Book 3): The Forsaken (20 page)

"Not unless we have to."

John rested his head against the window as they passed by an old Victorian with a pile of photos tossed onto the porch. "It just seems so wrong," Rochelle said. "These were people's things."

"It is wrong," John agreed. "But then nothing much is right anymore."

John frowned at the baby doll and teddy bear lying in the middle of the front walk that led to a small colonial. A crib had been tossed out behind the toys. "Why did they throw all of the stuff outside?" she asked.

"I don't know," John answered.

"Do you think it was people searching for supplies, or those sick, rabid humans?"

"I don't know," John said again. Though he suspected it had been the sick humans. There was no reason why a normally functioning human being would cause this much destruction, or put so much effort into throwing everything outside. He didn't know why the sick ones would do this, what thought processes had driven them to this, and he didn't want to ever find out. He sensed anger here though, or frustration. Maybe they had been missing what they'd once had and were taking it out on the possessions that had once been a part of their everyday lives.

It all seemed so surreal, like he was looking at photos of some warzone, but this warzone was just outside his window. He stared at the porch roof of a farmhouse that had a mattress sitting on it as Carl turned onto another street. More debris littered the sidewalks and yards, but there was more than just people's possessions scattered about now.

There was also people's blood.

"I don't like this," John said as Xander began to slow down in front of them.

"Neither do I," Carl admitted.

John scanned the houses as he searched for an answer amongst the darkened homes. The more he searched though, the more questions he had and the less answers he found. He almost asked where the remains of the people that had left so much blood behind were, but he kept his mouth shut as Rochelle shuddered against his side. The answer to that question was made obvious as they turned onto another road and the remains were clearly displayed for all to see.

He'd never known the human body could be decimated in such a way. Body parts were scattered on the grass, all over the porches, and across the road. He found himself holding his breath, unwilling to breathe in the stench he knew had to exist outside of the truck. Flies buzzed over the remains of what had to be at least a hundred bodies. Some birds and coyotes lifted their heads to look at them, but they quickly returned to their meals. Most of the remains had been picked down to the bone but some still had flesh attached to them. His stomach turned at the sinew still stubbornly adhering to the bones.

Rochelle let out a small squeak; she drew her legs up onto the seat as Carl came to a stop behind Xander. The car idled before them and then Xander put it in reverse and pulled up next to them. "I don't think you should roll that window down," John said.

"Well I can't tap out Morse code on the glass," Carl told him.

He was right, but even so John watched him roll down the window with dread. His hand went to his nose as the humid, rot laden air poured into the truck. He'd smelled landfills in August that didn't smell as bad as the outside around them did right now. Rochelle groaned and pulled her shirt over her nose. John leaned over as Riley rolled down the passenger side window.

"Should we keep going?" Riley asked nervously. "Al said there's another route but it goes through more populated areas."

Carl's fingers drummed on the steering wheel as the Caddy pulled up beside him. John braced himself for the wave of putrid air he knew was about to enter the truck before he rolled his window down. "What's going on?" Donald inquired.

"Al said there's another route but it goes through more populated areas," John answered.

Donald glanced at the road before them before turning to look at him. "I don't know if that's a good idea," Mary Ellen said.

"Something did this to these people, most likely lots of some
one's
," John said.

Peter scowled at him but the man remained silent as Carl and Riley continued to speak. "I think we should try a different route," Donald said.

John agreed with him but Carl was already rolling the driver's side window up. "We're going to go back," Carl said.

John wanted to feel relief at the opportunity to escape the mess before them, but he was beginning to feel like a cornered dog, or even worse like a herded sheep.

Mary Ellen,

Donald was in the process of backing the car up when the truck came to an abrupt halt beside them. Donald seemed to have missed the fact that the truck had stopped as he kept going for a few more feet. "What the hell?" Donald inquired as he stopped the car again.

The window rolled down and John's arm came out to wave them forward. On the other side of the truck, Xander began to move his car forward again too. Mary Ellen recoiled when Donald rolled his window down, but even with the window closed the stench of the air was enough to make her want to stop breathing.

"What's going on?" Donald asked.

John was pale as he looked down at them; sweat beaded across his brow and upper lip. "We're rethinking doubling back."

"Why?" Mary Ellen managed to choke out.

John glanced at the hideous scene before them before focusing on them again. "They set a trap in that grocery store. They waited for us and they baited us and then they almost killed us."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Peter asked as he sat forward.

He'd been staying relatively quiet and Mary Ellen far preferred it that way. "Doesn't it seem odd to you that we've discovered nothing until now and that there is only one other way for us to go? It's like we're being herded, like sheep," John answered. "They
know
that most people wouldn't drive through what is in front of us."

"What if that area is where they're living and that's why there are so many remains?" Mary Ellen asked.

John swallowed heavily and brought his gun forth to rest it on the dashboard. "They're smart," he said. "
Really
smart. I don't see them letting anyone know where they're staying. I really believe they're trying to herd us."

"So we're going to go in there on your
belief
?" Peter asked incredulously.

John's nostrils flared as his jaw clenched. Mary Ellen saw Carl's hand seize hold of John's arm but she couldn't see Carl. John looked away from them but the words they exchanged were muffled and lost to her. When John looked back at them, the lines in his forehead had cleared and his teeth weren't clamped together anymore. "No, I think we should go in there on what we
know
about these things."

"Jesus," Mary Ellen whispered and looked back at the neighborhood before them. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. She would have thought that the bodies were from the burned remains of the plane, but none of them were charred. It wouldn't have surprised her if some of the bodies had been flung from the wreckage before the fire had claimed it, but not this many of them. In fact, when she looked closer- something she really did
not
want to do- she saw that
none
of the bodies had any burns on them.

"I'm almost certain that if we go back we'll be doing exactly what they planned for us to do," John continued.

Mary Ellen liked John, she really did, but she wasn't sure she was willing to put her life, and her daughter's life, in his hands. But then, Carl and John had gotten Rochelle to her in the first place. That was more than she ever could have asked for, from anyone. "Ok," she said.

"Ok what?" Peter inquired from the back.

"Ok, let's go. I trust you, John."

"Are you out of your mind?" Peter demanded.

"No," Mary Ellen answered. "I think he's right. The bodies of the sick are deteriorating, or at least they appear to be, but they're still able to reason."

"It's twisted their minds as much as their bodies," Donald muttered.

"Exactly," Mary Ellen said.

"Onward then," John said.

"The others?" Josh asked.

John looked away from them and said something to Carl before turning back to them. "They're ready to go forward."

She bet they were as thrilled by this option as she was, but she didn't say anything as Donald pushed the window button up. The window closed but it did little to block the odor from outside. Mary Ellen pulled her shirt over her nose but even a hundred floral scented air fresheners wouldn't have stopped that aroma.

"I hope he's right," she said as Donald drove onto the sidewalk in order to avoid running over a torso lying in the road.

A shiver slid up her spine, her eyes closed as she briefly tried to block out the carnage surrounding them. Opening her eyes, she grabbed hold of the armrest and searched the homes for any sign of movement.

When she was seven she'd watched a horror movie that had the spider the size of a school bus in it. The spider had encased an entire town. The people of the town had been trapped inside as the spider's legs worked to spin its silken web around the people that it gradually turned to liquid in order to feed off of them.

It had given her nightmares for weeks and she still despised spiders because of it. Her parents had become fed up with being awoken in the middle of the night by her screams. For the last week she had stayed awake, alone and shaking in her bed, as no one came to make sure that she was ok. It had been the first time she'd realized that she couldn't always count on them, and over the years their aloofness to her had only served to reinforce that realization.

Driving through this town now, she could almost see it encased within a snow globe like structure that had a giant tarantula perched over top of it. Though she knew it wasn't possible, she was certain that bits of web were going to start floating down to ensnare them all. A shudder rocked through her, she couldn't stop herself from wrapping her arms around her middle as she tilted her head back to look at the red sky.

She was certain that those people were out there, biding their time; waiting to spring on them and drain them dry just like that spider.

Mary Ellen sat up and braced her hand on the dash as she placed her gun in her lap. She was tempted to stick it in the glove box as she was certain she would shoot at the first thing that jumped out at them, but she felt safer with it nearby. A house was burning in the distance and when they got closer, Mary Ellen spotted a few bodies that had been tossed onto the flames.

"Those people are absolutely crazy," Josh said.

"What if it wasn't the sick people?" Donald inquired.

"What do you mean?" Mary Ellen asked nervously.

"I mean John thought it was the sick people that were trying to divert us somewhere else, but we haven't seen
any
residents of this town."

"I think we're seeing some of them now," Peter retorted. "Or at least what's
left
of them."

Mary Ellen's hand tightened on the gun. "There are way more inhabitants of this town than the bodies we're seeing around us right now. I mean this is a fairly large town, with a lot of homes in it," Donald said.

"So you think normal people did this?" Mary Ellen felt nauseated by the thought.

"Maybe."

"Holy crap," Josh said as he sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest.

"Why would they?" Mary Ellen asked.

"As a deterrent to other humans, and as a food supply to keep those things occupied for awhile," Donald answered.

Mary Ellen didn't mean to, but her head tilted back to search for a spider descending upon them. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and pulled at the shirt hugging her damp skin. She'd kill for a cool pool, and a glass of iced tea right now, but all she thought she was actually going to get was pounced upon at any second.

She glanced nervously at the truck as she wondered how Rochelle was holding up. Maybe she'd made the wrong choice by separating from her daughter, but she'd meant what she'd said earlier, she wasn't going to back down from anyone ever again, including Peter.

The houses faded away as a large meadow, one the size of a couple of football fields appeared on her right. An eight foot high, black wrought iron fence ran all the way around the property. Three large brick buildings were in the center of the field. There were other, smaller buildings set up on the estate, one of which was a greenhouse. It took her a second to realize that the ivy covered brick buildings were a school and some of the other buildings were the dorms. The gate in the center of the cobblestone road leading to the buildings was closed. Behind the gate, she spotted at least a hundred people patrolling the property with weapons at the ready. There were even more people moving about by the school.

"Guess that answers the question of what happened to the townspeople," Donald said.

"Did they do that to those people back there?" Josh asked in disbelief.

Mary Ellen studied the men and women gathered behind the immense fence. Her eyes narrowed as she strained to read a plaque that had been placed on the front of a large boulder. It read,
Camden Preparatory School established eighteen hundred ninety-six.

"I don't think so," Mary Ellen said.

"What are they doing?" Peter demanded.

Mary Ellen tore her attention away from the people behind the gate to focus on the truck pulling into the drive. She sat straighter in her seat as a few guns swung in their direction from behind the gate. "I don't know," she whispered as the truck stopped before the gate. Xander backed the car up and pulled up beside them.

Riley started to roll down the window but when Carl stepped out of the truck, Donald drove the car forward and parked beside the truck. Mary Ellen hastily rolled down the window. "What are you doing?" she demanded in a low hiss.

Carl's eyes were indecipherable beneath the rim of his battered hat. "Just going to ask some questions. They might know if we should go forward or turn back."

An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach as she opened the door and climbed out. They'd gone out of their way to avoid people but now Carl was going to walk right up to that gate and question them. She looked around but saw nothing other than the distant remains of the massacre they had just left behind. Riley and Xander stepped out of the car too but no one else moved as more guns swung in their direction.

Mary Ellen stayed close to the car as she surveyed the people approaching the gate. "We mean no harm," Carl said as he held his hands up at his sides.

"We're not taking in any stragglers," a man with a rifle pointed at Carl's chest informed him.

Mary Ellen's heart beat accelerated as she looked from the tip of that rifle, to Carl, and back again. It could all be over in a second, and they'd have no chance to defend themselves. She trusted that Carl knew what he was doing as he continued to hold his hands out at his sides and stopped before the gate. She focused on the foot long spikes sticking up from the fence and shuddered. All she could think of was Dracula impaling his victims and she half expected to see bodies hanging from the wicked looking spikes.

"We're not looking to be taken in," Carl assured him. "I just have some questions."

The man seemed to relax a little but he didn't move the gun away from Carl's chest. "Ask."

"What happened back there?" Carl inquired.

From within the crowd a woman began to weep. Mary Ellen's heart went out to her as another woman wrapped her arms around the crying woman and pulled her away from the gates. Mary Ellen's gaze drifted back to the street they had just left behind. The woman's reaction put an end to any questions that it may have been the townspeople that had slaughtered those people. The man shook his head but it was a middle aged woman that answered the question.

"People, or at least at one time they were people. Now they're just monsters."

Carl nodded and gradually lowered his hands to his sides. "Are the sick people gone?"

"They're never gone," another woman answered. "They always come back."

"Sometimes they get back in," a young boy whispered from behind his father's back.

Mary Ellen wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to hug Rochelle to her, but her daughter remained in the truck with John. "Are they ahead of us?" Carl asked.

"They're everywhere," another man said. "But we have no way of knowing exactly where."

Carl nodded. "Do you know anything, did anyone come through here? Like the military?"

"No," the man with the rifle answered and finally lowered it away from Carl's chest. "We've seen no one since the quakes started and the sickness spread."

"You don't have the same amount of damage that we had in Massachusetts," Carl told him and lifted his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. "It was just... it was a disaster through there."

The man nodded and glanced at the vehicles outside the gate. "I'm sorry to hear that. The sickness was the worst here. It took so many, so quickly, and what it turned them into..." his voice trailed off as his gaze drifted toward the mess down the street.

"I know, we've seen it too," Carl said. "Thank you."

Another man stepped forward and whispered something in the first man's ear. He nodded before focusing on Carl again. "If you'd like you can come in for a little bit, maybe even stay the night."

Carl shook his head. "Thank you, but we should be moving on."

The man turned back to him. "Good luck out there."