Five

5

“We are going to have to get gas.” Derek Sheppard told his wife Debbie as he looked at the gauge rested on the bold letter E. They had just gotten done visiting her mother and were driving the twenty mile drive back home to Boise and there was no way they would make it without running out of gas. The last thing Derek wanted was to be stuck out here in the middle of the night. He liked Idaho very much but sometimes the night time environment freaked him out.

“No problem dear,” Debbie said to him with a smile, “I have to go pee anyways. Sharon’s shop is right up the street here.” Debbie had grown up in this small little town so she knew everything and everyone in it. It was actually kind of nice because Derek was completely lost out here. They had just gotten married a year ago when they both graduated from USC in wonderful, sunny southern California. They had just bought a house and moved up here three months earlier. Derek had come almost kicking and screaming at first, the only way he said he would live here was if they bought a house in a dense populated area. It worked out perfect twenty miles is not that far.

“I hate to stop,” Derek said, “I have that interview tomorrow and I have to get up early I need to get some good sleep.”

“And I still need to have my way with you.” Debbie said to him in her sexy voice.

Derek laughed as he pulled into the small gas station, “You don’t have to force me or anything. Looks like they’re closed, are you sure they have pay-at-the-pump in this part of the world?”

“Very funny dear,” Debbie said with a frown, “her restrooms are outside I will be right back.”

Derek got out and put all his info in the pump and started to pump gas. Debbie disappeared around the building heading to the restroom. Normally Derek wouldn’t let her roam around at night without him by her side but she was from here plus, it was Idaho, what could happen. Derek waited patiently until the fuel pump clicked making him aware that his car was full. He always wondered why they didn’t add a cool little sound effect when your gas was done pumping. Like a soft, sultry and feminine voice that says, “Your gas has fully completed the pumping process.” That would be awesome, maybe he should patent it then maybe he wouldn’t have to keep going to failed interview after failed interview. Derek was so busy thinking that he lost track of time and eventually he noticed that Debbie still wasn’t back yet she never took this long. Maybe she sat down to do her business and got surprised by Mr. Poo sometimes that happened.

“Debbie!” he yelled numerous times with no response and then he heard the scream.

“Debbie!” He ran in the direction she had headed. He was freaking out. Had some creep been watching her in the restroom? Some perverted redneck tried to have his way with her? Derek was not the toughest man in the world. Unlike Debbie he hadn’t received a scholarship to USC. Daddy and Mommy had paid for it, he had learned to live by the checkbook not the sword, but if someone had hurt the love of his life he was prepared to kick some ass. He stopped; the women’s restroom door was open.

“Deb?” he called to the dark room, “You in here?” He thought he heard something squishing around in the dark. He put his hand on the wall and felt for the light switch, where is it, oh there it is. He flipped the switch up and immediately felt the need to vomit jumping back hand over his mouth. Debbie was sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide open and lifeless, blood coming from the corners of her mouth. Her abdomen was open with all the contents spilling out from it, and a man was hunched over her with his back to Derek and looked like he was eating one of her intestines.

Derek was speechless just standing there watching as his wife was getting eaten by this, this, cannibal or whatever he was. He tried to speak but no words came out, the man suddenly stopped eating, stood up and turned around. Derek could barely see the man’s face, it was covered with blood, his mouth was open a low groan was coming from it. Derek was petrified he didn’t know what to do. He could see Debbie’s purse on the bathroom floor, he had left his cell phone at home and hers was tucked away in her purse. Suddenly, the man lunged at him Derek was caught off guard and fell to the floor he put his hands up and held the man’s head away from him just inches above his face. His breath smelled horrible, blood was coming out of his mouth, eyes and his ears. Derek was having a hard time holding on to him because it was so slick. Blood from this guy’s mouth was falling onto Derek’s face getting in his mouth, eyes and nose he began to gag as blood went down his throat he could barely see. He tried hard not to swallow any of the blood but there was so much eventually he had to or else he would suffocate. Then he didn’t know what came over him, suddenly he pushed the man away flipped around onto his stomach crawling on his knees making it too his feet ran until he got to his car opened the door and jumped in, turned the ignition and drove away trying to get as far away from this nightmare as he possibly could.

*************

It was usually a pretty short drive to the gas station from the police station, but Rick had to wait for a train. He hated trains, the always showed up when you were in a hurry never when you had all the time in the world. As he sat there waiting and trying to stop himself from counting the train cars he couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into Bobby Williams. The boy was harmless enough as long as he didn’t have alcohol in him but what in the world would cause him to take a chunk out of Sharon. Sharon was always nice to the boy, one time he had tried to sneak out with some beer while Rick had been in there off shift grabbing a Snickers and Sharon had just let him walk out saying she would get him to pay for it later. She had even bailed him out of jail on numerous occasions because she said she felt sorry for the boy. None of this makes any damn sense, Rick thought to himself as he pulled his cruiser up to the gas station and got out checking out his surroundings.

He spotted tire tracks heading out of town and hoped Bobby hadn’t taken off already. He walked up to the door of the store and gazed in. He couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there was nothing there.

“Bobby!” Rick called out, “Where are you boy? Otis, are you here?”

No response came from either side of the building. Rick decided to check the perimeter, he walked to the left side of the building and that’s when he saw the blood. Several drops decorated the concrete; he saw that they went two directions, towards the street where he had seen the tire tracks and around the building towards the restrooms. He walked around the building taking out the 9mm as slowly walked very alert of his surroundings. The woman’s restroom door was open and the light was on, the blood trail was coming from there. Rick stood up against the wall trying to gain some sort of cover and walked sideways until he got to the open door. He took some deep breaths, here we go. He spun out from the wall and through the door, as he charged in his feet hit some blood and he lost his foothold falling to his back. He could feel the warm blood soaking through his uniform as he sat up into a sitting position and almost lost the donuts he had ate earlier.

Debbie Barnes, of course Rick knew her he use to bounce her on his knee when her mom brought cookies and that excellent sweet tea she made by the station. She was almost like a daughter to him and Megan and here she lay on the floor of a gas station restroom, various internal organs surrounding her. This couldn’t have been a man, Rick thought, an animal maybe. Danny should be at the station by now. Rick pulled his walkie talkie from his belt.

“Danny, come in.”

Static greeted him.

“Danny come in over.”

He should be there by now and even if he wasn’t he always had his radio on. Rick continued to call on the radio to no avail. He swore and threw his radio across the bathroom as he stood up then the tears came. He had seen a lot of things in his career, hell he had gotten a suicide call after some nut job had introduced a 12 gauge to his dome, but this, this was way worse. He quickly collected himself and reminded himself he was the sheriff and that he had to keep his cool he turned around to leave the bathroom when he saw Otis standing about 3 feet from him, he instantly knew this wasn’t the same man that he knew. He drew his gun and pointed it at him.

“Stay right there Otis don’t you move or so help me God I will end you right now.”

Otis just stared at him what sounded like a growl escaped his lips as he lifted his head. Rick saw a wound on his throat as Otis lifted his head blood poured from it along with almost every orifice on his face. His eyes were completely blood shot and as he lifted his right hand Rick saw that he was missing a finger, his index finger to be exact, and then he started walking towards him. Rick had already warned him once. He opened fire. Two precise shots to the chest your standard double taps. Otis staggered back a few steps not falling to the ground stopped for a few seconds and continued to walk towards him. What was going on?

Rick started to aim for his head but just as he was about to pull the trigger Otis swung at him. Rick ducked into a roll out into the night and jumped back up to his feet spinning around, sending a bullet into Otis’s head, well his ear. The bullet hit his left ear tearing it from his skull, but Otis didn’t even seem to care, or notice for that matter, then things got worse, Debbie walked out of the bathroom entrails hanging from her abdomen very slowly but still walking. And then Bobby Williams from the direction of his car suddenly appeared arms outstretched snarling as he came towards Rick. Zombies, Rick thought, No way. He had to move fast.

He concentrated on Otis, he fired five shots) in his general direction. Three missed horribly but one got him in the neck on the opposite side of his wound and the other caught him in his shoulder knocking him to the ground. He decided not to waste any ammo and ran around the opposite side of the building trying to get to his car; there were no zombies to be seen. He jumped into his cruiser and started the engine and sped off towards the station. He would have to grab Danny and come back. He started to accelerate when he heard the sound of an approaching train.

“Oh, come on man!” Sitting at the tracks waiting for the train many things were going through his head. One of these things he just happened to overlook was that the woman waiting for him at his station had been bitten by one of the things he just encountered and was already feasting on his relief for the night.

********

Derek felt sick, not only to his stomach but he felt sick from shame. He had just run away like a spineless coward without even defending his wife. True she was dead but he could have still taught that sick creep a thing or two, like maybe kick him in the balls at least. Oh, he didn’t feel good at all. His stomach was turning profusely, all that blood had gotten in his mouth and down his throat he was very surprised he hadn’t thrown up. He had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. Should he go to the authorities? Of course he should why wouldn’t he.

A sudden pain came over him, he cried out in pain as wave over wave of nausea came over him. He lost it, vomiting all over the windshield losing control of his vehicle in the process. In all the craziness and confusion he had forgotten to buckle up. He didn’t see the telephone pole in front of him. His car collided into the pole sending him flying through the windshield onto the concrete and causing the telephone pole to fall to the ground the power lines sparking as they disconnected sending this small Idaho town into blackness.

Four

4

There was something wrong with tonight. Something in the atmosphere, Rick Sheldon thought to himself. He had been sheriff of this small Idaho town for almost twenty years and he had never felt the air like this before. Maybe all his younger religious years were finally paying off for him, Rick laughed at that. He had grown up in the Catholic Church, under strict guidelines for almost his entire childhood. He remembered the first time he had gone to confession even though it had happened almost forty years ago. He was eight years old and his day had come. His mother had been preparing him for this amazing occasion for almost a year and Rick was just ready to get it over with.

Rick had walked into the little confessional booth (They always reminded him of payphones for some reason) and sat down on his little seat. And the father spoke to him.

“Hello my son”

“Forgive me father,” he recited the words his mother had taught him flawlessly, “For I have sinned.”

The priest asked him what he had to confess. Rick was only eight but it seemed he had a list of things bigger than the room itself. First, he had stolen a piece of candy from the local supermarket when he was four. He had been holding his mother’s hand waiting in line and a piece of chocolate caught his eye, he sneakily grabbed it and stuffed in his pocket and ate it later at home in the bathroom, no one had even known, except for God of course according to the priest.

Second, when he was six his cousin George had come to visit one Saturday and his mother had given them both a Popsicle. Lemon Lime, Rick could still taste it on his tongue. Now George in his infinite wisdom thought he was the big dog of the two of them. He had devoured his own Popsicle before Rick had even got in three licks and demanded that Rick hand his delicious snack over. Rick refused of course and George knocked it out of his hand onto the dirty ground. Rick snapped his beloved iced treat was ruined; he clenched a fist and punched George in the nose. Rick felt the bone snap at the impact and blood immediately begin to flow down George’s face. He cried like a little baby, Rick’s butt had been sore for a week after.

There were countless little sins, and then last and certainly not least was the previous summer when Rick had peeked into the window of the Pederson’s and seen their sixteen year old daughter getting dressed. Rick admitted that he probably looked more then he should have but he didn’t stay for long. It seemed like hours that Rick sat in that little booth and when he was finished the priest told him that he was forgiven but to make sure that he never did any of that again. Rick had left that booth and gone on with life as any normal eight year old boy would and had visited that booth numerous times over the next ten years.

On his eighteenth birthday he turned his back on the church and went his own way. He joined the army luckily in a time of peace drank his way through his four year enlistment and found his way back to Idaho and joined the police academy. He graduated with honors thanks to his military training and began his career. And that’s when he met Megan. Megan’s grandparent’s William and Lorraine Bridgewater were the towns oldest resident’s. William’s great grandfather had founded the town one hundred years ago and was throwing a party in celebration of the occasion. Rick was working it, making sure that none of the old people got out of hand.

He had been walking through the Bridgewater’s enormous house chewing on an appetizer when he stumbled into an attractive young lady.

“Hey, watch where you going!” Rick yelled at her and when she turned around was immediately silent.

Standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was about 5’8” three or four inches shorter then he was. Long brown hair hung down to her shoulders, and green eyes peered up at him.

“I’m so sorry officer” she said batting her eyelashes, “I was just trying to find my grandfather.”

“Well then I must insist that you let me escort you to his location.” Rick said all tough and manly like.

“Oh I would be honored sir.” She said sarcastically, curtsy and all.

They walked around the party together, exchanging stories of where they had been and where they had come from. Megan’s parents had moved away at a young age embracing the city lifestyle over the small town atmosphere. Megan’s mom had been a nurse and her dad was a doctor who was very well practiced. One night they were on their way home from an awards banquet held in her father’s honor when their car was struck by a drunk driver, they were both killed instantly. Megan had been ten years old and she was devastated. Her grandparents took her in, well sort of, they paid for her to go to the best boarding school money could buy and after that they paid for her college. She was on her way to become a lawyer and she was here for summer break. Rick was in love instantly. They spent a lot of time with each other over that summer and Megan decided to give up law school and stay in town. They were married the following summer.

Rick had loved everything about the woman expect for her views of religion. Megan was raised in a Holy Roller church. She believed in spiritual gifts, speaking in tongues, the whole nine yards. Even after her parents died she made arrangements with the dean of the boarding school she attended so she could still go to church on Sundays and Wednesdays for bible study. Rick’s experience with religion as he called it had kind of numbed him by the time Megan came into his life.

“It’s not religion babe.” She had told him numerous times. “It’s something completely different it’s about being one on one with your creator and understanding what it means to really know him.” It went in one ear and out the other for over twenty years. One night they had gotten into a huge fight about God and love among other things. He had said some horrible things, she left storming out the door off to play with her God. She had gotten into her car and left in a hurry not paying attention to anything going on around her. At an intersection five miles from their house a dodge ram ran a red light and slammed into her car. Rick had rushed to the scene as soon as he heard the call on his radio.

She was lying on a stretcher barely alive. Internal bleeding, the paramedics told him, she wouldn’t survive the ride to the hospital. He bent down to the stretcher tears pouring from his eyes, the woman he loved lay their dying and she looked up at him, after all the nasty things he said with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Forgive me,” she said barely audible, she had done nothing wrong. “I love you, and so does He.” And then she died. Rick had lost it for almost a year, becoming friends with the bottle. He had nothing to live for anymore. He had thought of suicide but he was not selfish and couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he finally got over it and came back to work, he still hadn’t healed completely even though it had happened almost four years ago, and he still drank every night to numb the feelings.

Numb the feelings; he thought to himself, do I have any left to numb? And that’s when the door to his station flew open and the crying woman fell into his office blood pouring from an open wound on her arm.

“Rick, Rick,” she screamed, “Bobby Williams has lost it!”

“Calm down Sharon,” Rick tried to speak slow and mellow. Sharon had a reputation of making a bigger deal of things then they actually were. She owned the little Gas station on the corner of town which was a pretty steady money maker for the town. “What happened?”

She explained that she had just finished up closing the shop down, her boyfriend Otis was finishing up cleaning the repair shop up, and she was outside locking the door when she had spotted Bobby out of the corner of her eye. She had greeted him and asked what he needed thinking he was just making a last minute beer run when he had lunged at her. She had thrown her hand up to fend him off and he had bitten down on her forearm taking a chunk of flesh with him as she screamed and shoved him away from her. She hadn’t even thought about Otis and had started running towards the sheriff’s office.

“Okay Sharon, I’ll go take a look,” Rick told her, “Danny should be here in about ten minutes to relieve me you can wait here until he arrives. There is some gauze and tape in that cabinet over there.” Rick opened the top drawer of his desk and took out his 9mm that rested inside. He hated packing heat; he only took it when he knew it was absolutely necessary. Bobby had been known to be a difficult case. On more than one occasion he had spent a night in one of Rick’s many luxurious cells for being drunk and disorderly, but assault, that was new.

“I’ll be right back.” He assured her with a hand on her shoulder, “don’t go anywhere sit right here until Danny gets back.” Sharon nodded in agreement as she walked to the cabinet and retrieved the gauze. Rick opened the door and walked out into the night, nowhere near ready for what awaited him at the gas station.

Three

3

Six Months Later….

The whiskey wasn’t doing him any favors. No not one at all. Six months after he had made the best discovery in biochemical weapons Randolph Anderson sat alone in his private lab enjoying a few last minutes with himself and his old friend Jack Daniels. One hand held the bottle and another held a .32 caliber magnum revolver that he had luckily recovered in the chaos that had ensued merely hours ago. How did one of the worlds smartest men in a short six months time go from celebrating with the best Napa Valley wine to a bottle of the lowly Nascar fan version of Champagne? He took another swig of the bottle coughing as the strong liquid went down his throat and started thinking about where he had messed up.

The so called “virus” that Randolph had created was one of the most perfect specimens that had ever been created in a lab. Jimmy was just the first of several lab animals that had suffered the effects of Agent 666 as Randolph liked to call it. It was quick, deadly and dirty just like the devil. The chemical had ended up not being airborne as Randolph had hoped for, he had put many animals with the corpses of the tested subjects and the chemical had not passed from one subject to another until there was a transfer of fluids, such as blood. A minor setback. It was still a weapon and a good one at that, and there was no cure.

Randolph had worked for months on a counter measure to the chemicals effects to no avail. The only cure was to burn the bodies of the contaminated before their blood could be transferred to another host. He had yet to try it out on a human host, fate decided that for me, Randolph thought to himself. He felt the cold steel of the gun in his hands as a tear ran down his cheek and the thoughts of the evening played back through his head.

The chemical had been set to be delivered to California by train that very evening. It was required that deadly toxins or anything that could wipe out human life as we know it, was transported by train, it was apparently the safest way. Yeah right, he thought. He had told the morons who were loading the canisters to triple check everything to make sure everything was secure. They assured him that everything was secure and ready to go. Ten minutes out the first canister had come loose. And more are probably falling out all the way to California, Randolph thought.

Randolph had been finishing up some stuff out in the train yard area of the complex he worked at when he spotted the first of them out of the corner of his eye. A man in his mid thirties was staggering up the tracks with another fellow right behind him. Randolph could sense something was wrong from the moment he spotted him. One of the company’s many security guards noticed as well.

“Hey!” he yelled “this is private property you can’t be in here.”

No response the two men proceeded to walk towards the complex. The security guard drew his weapon and continued to yell warnings the other security guards about five in all drew their guns as well. They didn’t slow, continuing towards the guards, arms outstretched. From behind them a third person emerged, a woman, a little faster paced then the other two. Randolph then saw what he needed to see, panic and fear hit him instantly. All three people had blood coming from eyes, ears and mouth. No, he thought to himself, they should be dead then! Right then the voices returned to taunt him. All they did was laugh.

“SHOOT THEM NOW!” Randolph screamed. The guards looked at him confused, they thought these were normal people who yet made any threats, but by the time the first man reached for the security guard and began biting and tearing at his jugular it was too late. The guard was screaming as the creature tore his throat out blood flying into the air. The guards opened fire emptying clips into their bodies to no end. Two, then three more of these creatures appeared from the tracks, one of the guards shots hit one of them in the head and they dropped not getting back up.

Another guard fell as the woman took a bite out his arm, and then the unthinkable happened. Randolph watched as the security guard that moments ago had gotten his throat ripped out stand up and takes a chunk out of one of his buddies. What the hell? He was so lost in the moment he didn’t notice one of them coming at him from his left until it was almost on him. He fell to the ground, crawling away, seeing something on the ground. A gun, he reached for it flipped around on his back, aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the creatures head exploding out the back knocking the so called zombie to the ground red chunks decorating the concrete.

“Screw this.” Randolph said as he stood up and ran for the building. A zombie lunged at him; he ducked under its reaching arms opening the door to the complex not worrying about closing it, running for his lab. And now here he was sitting at the desk where he had doomed humanity. He knew there was nothing to do. There was no cure. He had no idea why this was happening. Not one single animal that he had tested the agent on had come back after they were dead. They only thing he could think of was that the agent worked different in a human body, possibly attacking all the organs and vitals like it should but instead of staying waiting to be transferred it must attach itself to something in the human body and jumpstart it back to life. And all the nutrients that it needs to survive lives in the human body, Randolph thought, hence also the hunger for flesh. Feeding on other humans in sense keeps the chemical active and at the same time passes it over to another human host. A zombie. He took another swig of the Jack Daniels as he felt the weight of the magnum in his hand.

You killed them Randy, the voices taunted, you killed them all.

Randolph began to sob uncontrollably throwing the empty whiskey bottle against the door to his lab, and screaming at the top of his lungs to whatever unseen god would listen. No peace came over him only guilt and shame. He could hear them outside, their moans and pounds at his door barely audible through the thick steel. They would never get in, and he would be in here forever.

You don’t deserve to live.

“Shut up, this is all your fault!” He screamed at the voices.

You cannot blame us for this, you let us in and now you have to live or die with the consequences. They all laughed. Do you really think these things effects us? We are Legion, we are many and we have no cares for the affairs of men which will soon be over. Our creation will sweep over this so-called Promised Land and then the time that was promised shall be ours. All we have to do is tie up loose ends.

A sudden wave of guilt came over him as he looked at the gun in his hand.

“Please God,” he sobbed. The voices cut him off.

Ha you think he is listening? You belong to us, you let us come in, and now we own you.

A searing pain filled Randolph’s head. Pounding into his brain, it felt like one thousand knifes were cutting his nerves. He was powerless, completely powerless. He brought the magnum up to his temple and thought about growing up, his mother, father, and Lacey. Tears continued to pour out from his eyes as countless memories of what could have been flashed before his eyes. If only he had not let them in. “I’m sorry,” Randolph said as he pulled back the hammer, and then pulled the trigger.

**************

“Damn that infernal woman!” Bobby Williams pounded the steering wheel of his old beat up Chevy truck as he drove down the dirt driveway of Darlene Edison’s house. An open Bud light can was between his legs and as he continued to swear and beat his truck beyond what is was already he wished he had a gun in his truck. He had warned what would happen if he found out she had been cheating on him and what happens? He walks into her house with some roses and chocolates and she is in bed with another man. Just not any man either, the freaking sewer guy, Pinky Smith. Fine, Bobby thought to himself as he got to the main road and headed towards town, if she wants to be with someone who cleans crap for a living that’s fine by me. He took a swig of his beer as he crossed the tracks and was thinking more and more of his AR-15 that he had locked in the cabinet at home when something caught his eye on the side of the road.

“What the…..” He pulled the truck over to side of the road finished off the rest of his beer and got out of the truck. It wasn’t outside of the normal to find things on the side of the road this close to the tracks. Trains ran through her non-stop and on more than one occasion Bobby had found some unsecured cargo (or treasure as he liked to call it) on the side of the road. One time he had found a whole case of Jack Daniels in the bushes ten feet from the tracks, he and all his Nascar buddies had two weeks of good times with that little discovery. Bobby wondered what amazing thing he would find this time.

He walked a little ways back from where he parked and tried to spot what he saw. He looked around the bushes and trees for several minutes before he found what he was looking for. He walked up to it with not a worry in the world. He took his little mini flashlight out of his pocket and shined the light on his treasure. It was a silver canister, circular in shape about one foot long and about half a foot in diameter. It kind of looked like a small torpedo like he had seen in those navy movies his dad liked to watch when he was a kid.

Bobby bent down to pick it up and just as he was about to touch it, he hesitated. He had no idea what was inside it. For all he knew this thing could have fallen off a secret military transport and could be some sort of experimental kool aid or something. Then it could be worth a lot of money, a mysterious thought in his head spoke aloud, maybe there is a reward. Bobby didn’t know if it was him thinking or if someone else was talking. He could use the money, he had a lot of debt and he had spent a boat load of money on that stupid tramp. He placed his hand on the canister. It reacted to his touch immediately, began to make a hissing sound.

A green vapor began to appear from the cylinder. Bobby began to panic, the vapor seemed to be alive as it wrapped around his legs, crawling up his body and up to his face. Bobby began to cough as the vapor filled his lungs; he turned and ran to the truck. A sharp pain in his gut brought him to his knees, coughing profusely he began to vomit he could feel something coming out of his ears, nose and eyes. He wiped his hand across his nose and brought it up to his eyes. Covered with blood, Bobby thought, I’m dying. As he lay on the road he could feel the vapor eating his insides, killing him. In less than two minutes, Bobby Williams no longer had to worry about that cheating tramp Darlene Edison, or the debt he had acquired over the years, he lay in the middle of the street on the edge of a small northwestern town dead. His internal organs now useless, all bodily functions halted, his body now belonged to Agent 666.

The molecules worked fast, moving through his nervous system and blood stream at an alarming rate. Finally, they found their way to the cortex of his brain and issued a small charge. Bobby’s body began to convulse, as the chemical began to take control of it and made it stand up. His body struggled at first but eventually it began walking slowly towards the lights of the small town a mile up the road. It was only thinking about one thing as it started its short walk. It was hungry.

Two

2

Three and a half years earlier…

The voices teased him. He could feel them right on the brink of his consciousness; doing the same thing they had been doing pretty much his whole life. Chatter, strange words never heard by human ears. He had learned to ignore them. After all, genius’s all have something wrong with them right? Abraham Lincoln, one of the United States greatest presidents suffered from what these modern day doctors would call “clinical depression” and he ended slavery and steered the U.S. through one of its darkest times. And he ended up with a bullet in his head while he was watching a play, one of the main things he did to cope with his so called disease. A bullet will be a peaceful way to go compared to what this baby will do.

Randolph Anderson was the child of a German mother and an American father, one of the wonderful by-products of military men stationed overseas. His father had been a tank mechanic in the United States Air Force stationed at Ramstein AFB and had met his mother on one of his adventures to the local watering hole. Randolph didn’t know if you would call it love at first sight but whatever you call it he ended up here as a response to their action. His father did the right thing, asked his mother to marry him and eight months later Randolph was born.

Randolph was automatically an American citizen but he grew up in Germany for the next eighteen years. His last year of high school also happened to be the first year of his father’s retirement, so they moved back to Madison, Wisconsin where he had grown up. Randolph’s father had always tried to push him more towards the physical aspects of things. He tried out for football when he was in sixth grade and had suffered a concussion during the tryout. Needless to say he didn’t make the team. No, Randolph was not built for sports, but science, that was a different story.

Ever since middle school when he received a chemistry set from one of his aunt’s in the states he had been fascinated with science. And his grades showed it. His first and last year in high school in the states, he was way above all the rest of the students. Dozens of schools offered him scholarships but after all was said and done he elected to stay close to home and attended University of Wisconsin-Madison, majoring in Biochemistry. He instantly excelled in all his classes. That’s where he had met Lacey Brogans and had been introduced to a whole new side of science.

She was an extremely attractive twenty year old junior who had been a teacher’s aide in one of his classes. Randolph had instantly grabbed her attention and before he knew it they were “seeing” each other. A little while after they had started their relationship Lacey took him to one of the meetings she regularly attended out of class. They were called the Society of Khemia, which was Greek for alchemy. Not only did they follow and practice modern science but they also added alchemic practices of old. Using some aspects of the occult, divination and combining it with science. Randolph dove in head first applying all the aspects of this group to his work all through college. That’s when the voices started.

It had started off mild at first, in his room doing experiments by candlelight smooth melodic music in the background, scribbling ancient symbols into his formulas, speaking incantations over his combinations of chemicals when they had started making suggestions. He had ignored it at first simply because he thought it was nothing but they started pressing more and more getting worse. In the middle of the night while he and Lacey were sleeping he would have dreams of beings shrouded in light speaking words of wisdom to him. He started listening to them and his work showed immediate results. He graduated with honors and was offered a job at one of the country’s top private weapons manufactures.

“The future of modern warfare is in biochemistry.” The CEO of the company had told him when he offered the job, “And we want whoever is on the top in biochemistry to be working for us.” He accepted without hesitation, asking Lacey to marry him immediately. She accepted and everything seemed to be looking up for the young man. Then it all changed.

The night before they were going to move to Virginia where the company was located, Randolph was plagued by nightmares. Images of demonic creatures, fire and death came to him wave after wave when he woke up. He felt over to the left side of the bed for where Lacey was supposed to be asleep. She was not there.

“Lacey.” Randolph had called to her with no response.

Lacey is not available at the moment, the voices taunted him. Panic came over him at once. He jumped out of the bed and ran into the living room of their small one bedroom apartment. Lacey was standing in the middle of the room in a daze like state with her back to Randolph, a knife from the kitchen in her hand already stained with her blood.

“Lace, babe what are you doing?” he asked her.

She turned around slowly. She is ours, she is good as dead, and she is an obstacle in your way, the voices jeered. Several small lacerations covered her face also tracing down her arms crimson red dripped onto the floor.

“They are calling me Rand,” she spoke in a dreamlike voice, “They are calling me to them and I must go.” Yes, the voices said.

She brought the knife up to her throat. Randolph rushed to stop her, ignoring the voices screaming at him reaching for the knife but he was a fraction of a second too late. She dragged the blade across her neck severing her jugular artery falling to the floor as blood sprayed across the room. That was ten years ago. Randolph had still taken the job after he had buried Lacey and said his condolences never looking back, and never loving another woman. He devoted all his time to work. The voices be damned. He had turned his back on their advice on that frightful night and they did not like it. And now here he was stuck.

Randolph had been working on this particular project for the majority of his time with the company and the bosses were getting impatient they wanted results. He had delivered on various other small projects, for one example he had developed synthetic h2o. Overnight he had solved the world’s water crisis and still they whined. But this also was very important, he had several different formulas and equations working at once on his computer and time after time he came up empty handed.

That’s because you need us, the voices reasoned, we have the missing piece to your puzzle.

“Shut up.” Randolph said aloud. He was all alone in his private office. He had no need for assistants or aides and all that help nonsense. Help was for the weak, “I don’t need your help.”

The voices laughed. That’s what they all say and sooner or later they all come back crawling on their knees.

CRASH! Randolph jumped out of his chair.

“Gosh Jimmy!” Randolph yelled at the caged monkey behind him, “You are going to be the death of me.”

Back to the computer screen he went when something caught his eye. That wasn’t there a second ago, he thought to himself. He started to sweat, all the figures in the equation made sense the computer was showing no inconsistencies the problem was he didn’t put it in there. And he knew that it shouldn’t be right, the two figures that had been added were opposites and could not be used in the same equation, normally that is.

It will work, the voices told him, trust us. Randolph stared at the screen. He had tried so hard to put his old practices away in the corner of his mind and now after all this time at the most important time in his career it was beginning to crawl back in. He relaxed in his seat with his fingers on the keys.

“Okay,” he said “but this is the last time.”

You have to let us in. You know the words.

Strange ancient words began coming off Randolph’s lips his fingers became a blur on the keyboard as they begin imputing strange number, letter, and chemical combinations that were unknown to most men. It seemed like hours when he finally snapped out of his trance his left index finger trembling over the enter key.

Do it.

Randolph pressed the button. The room came alive as his instructions came to life automatically mixing the formulas and chemicals that had been put into the computer and then it stopped. Randolph grabbed a sample and put it under his microscope. They seemed innocent enough, at least when they were alone.

“Let us see how you work under pressure.” Randolph spoke to the Petri dish. “Let’s go Jimmy.”

Randolph pushed a button and the back of Jimmy’s cage opened. The monkey walked through it to a small chamber that had been built for experimentation. Randolph took a sample of the new life form he had created and placed it into the feeder, as he liked to call it, and walked over to his computer and activated the little buggers.

“Sorry Jimbo, nothing personal.” Randolph said to the monkey.

A green mist started filling the chamber. Randolph kept watching the monitors that were attached to the outside that kept track of the monkey’s vitals. Jimmy just sat still and then suddenly he started convulsing spinning around in circles blood was pouring from his eyes and ears. And then he was dead. Randolph stood amazed at what he had seen. Years of work had paid off and it was all because of the voices which were now continently absent. He said a silent thank you to whatever power had just made him very rich. He walked over to his computer and looked at the stats.

So the chemical attaches itself to the targets nervous system and then travels through the blood stream at an alarming rate and starts attacking all the vital organs. Lungs, liver, and heart in no particular order were totally devoured by the little living enzymes he had created. When their work was finished they stay in the blood stream ready and hopefully jump to the next target and so on. The ultimate weapon and he already had the formula for the antidote processing in his head. Six months and I will have it in canisters on the way to California for human testing. Death row inmates made the perfect guinea pigs and the company he worked for owned a private prison in California just for that purpose in mind.

Randolph walked over to his desk, sat down in his chair and opened one of the drawers revealing a very rare Chardonnay from Napa valley he had been saving for just this special occasion. Phone calls be damned, he thought to himself, this is my moment and I am going to enjoy it. As he popped the cork and drank straight from the bottle he couldn’t help but be proud of himself. In fact all memories of the strange voices had all but mysteriously vanished as he once again toasted himself for his achievement. Little did he know that his greatest achievement would put Homo sapiens on the endangered species list and a fight for survival was closer than anyone could ever imagine.

One

Part One: Before the Beginning of the End

1

The traveler walked down the desolate and barren road. It was getting close to nightfall and he was in the open. He cursed under his breath as he thought of all the things that could happen to him if he got stuck in the night and then quickly corrected himself for cursing. You know better, he thought to himself, keep your flesh under control or it will end up killing you. He laughed at that last thought and gazed further down the road.

He spotted three or four abandoned cars up ahead. He almost swore again. A perfect spot for them to hide, he thought. It’s not that he was scared; he wasn’t even close to being frightened. It had been a few days since he had seen any action, these days that was a miracle. The traveler put his hand into his jacket checking for the machete that was securely fastened inside the custom fitted scabbard he had made himself. He then swung the twelve gauge shotgun that was hanging from his shoulder strap to his left hand. Most people preferred to use two hands when handling such a powerful weapon but over that last few years the traveler had learned to compensate for the kick with only his one arm. It was safer it left his right hand free for the machete in case he got surrounded.

Well here we go. He walked up to the group of cars carefully studying for any hidden predators. He came up to the first vehicle, a minivan, something a soccer mom would drive. Not much soccer playing these days, the traveler thought to himself. He looked into the windows not spotting anything when he heard soft muttering. He spun around 180 degrees quickly his shotgun ready to decimate anyone that stood within range. A small shape was on the ground curled into a ball. He walked forward slowly his shotgun leading the way his right hand wrapped around the handle of his machete.

“Hello” the traveler spoke. The shape stiffened up turning its head. It was a young girl, tears stained her cheeks she was holding her stomach.

“Help me?” She asked removing her hands from her stomach. Blood stained her hands and was dripping from a deep wound in her abdomen. “They tried to get me but I got away.” Blood was coming from the corners of her mouth as she talked dripping onto the concrete a small puddle had started to form.

She had been bitten. The traveler could feel the tears start to form in his eyes. These were always the hard ones. “Please,” she said as she stood up struggling to her feet, one of her intestines was starting to slip from her wound, “Help me.” She put one of her hands on the barrel of his gun.

“Lord, forgive me.” The traveler said as he reached into his coat and brought out his machete. With a quick motion he brought it down on the hand that was grabbing his gun. The girl screamed in pain as her hand flew off and blood spurted from the stump where her hand used to be. Her cries were not human. They were those of anger and hunger. The girl was gone and the beast had taken over. She glared at the traveler her eyes were bloodshot and more blood was coming from her mouth.

The traveler pointed his gun at her when he sensed something from behind him. He never checked the other cars. He ducked down and rolled to the side just as the creature was about to take a bite out of his neck. He brought his twelve gauge around pointed it up under its chin and pulled the trigger. Gore sprayed from the back of its head as it dropped down dead. The girl was almost on him but a third one had appeared from the other side of the minivan. The traveler spun around with his machete across the third ones neck decapitating it as he quickly ducked just as the girl was reaching for him. He grabbed her bloody stump with one hand, grabbed her legs with his other one and threw her to the ground, losing his weapons in the process. He stood up quickly and before she could get up to get a bite out of him he brought one of his steel toe boots down on her face, once, twice and kept doing it until she stopped moving.

He looked down at the creature below him. The face was barely recognizable as the girl he had seen just merely minutes ago it actually more resembled a hamburger patty before it was cooked. He felt like crying, he hadn’t cried in years. He kneeled on the concrete beside the girl and began to weep. He brushed some of her blonde hair to the side out of the gore and then closed his eyes.

“Please God, welcome your daughter into your arms,” he prayed “Let her life in the next be better than this one.” As he prayed he felt the familiar breeze brush against his face, he let out a sigh of relief as peace came over him. He wiped his eyes and got up to retrieve his equipment. He was tired. Tired of walking, tired of fighting and tired of never sleeping in the same place more than once. He bent down to clean off his machete in the grass on the side of the road. It seemed like he had been doing the same thing forever but it had only been three years since it had started.

Three years is that all? He asked himself. He looked down the road and then up at the sky. It was going to be dark soon he couldn’t go any further today there were likely more of them up ahead he was actually really surprised that more hadn’t showed up all ready. He walked over to the minivan and opened the side door. At least I get to sleep on some sort of cushion tonight. He crawled into the furthest back seat and laid his machete and 12 gauge on the other back seat. Also, he took off a small backpack that he always wore under his jacket so he couldn’t get grabbed from behind, and took out a bag of Fritos that he had found in an abandoned Safeway a couple days ago, as well as his little portable compact disc player he had received from a friend.

The traveler lay out on the seat putting the headphones over his ears and pushed play. The hard pounding music relaxed him as he took a handful of Fritos and put them in his mouth he reached into his backpack and took out a special treat. He popped open the can and took a swig of the warm liquid. He sighed and closed his eyes. As he fell asleep he thought of the day the chaos started. A day when friends still lived and questions were still unanswered. The day when Hell invaded earth and humanity would never be the same again.