Elixr Plague (Episode 6): Refugees Read online

  Elixr Plague: Episode 6: Refugees

  A Zombie Apocalypse Serial

  Marcus Richardson

  Contents

  Books by Marcus Richardson

  REFUGEES

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  What’s Next?

  Author Contact

  About the Author

  Books by Marcus Richardson

  Books by Marcus Richardson

  ELIXR PLAGUE

  Episode 1: Vector

  Episode 2: Infection

  Episode 3: Pandemic

  Episode 4: Apocalypse

  Episode 5: Survivors

  Episode 6: Refugees

  OTHER SERIES

  The Future History of America

  The Wildfire Saga

  Solar Storm

  For my complete catalog, please see:

  marcusrichardsonauthor.com

  REFUGEES

  Elixr Plague: Episode 6

  Author’s Note

  THIS IS A SERIALIZED STORY

  I’ll say that again: this is a serialized story. I mean, I certainly hope the shit I write about isn’t real.

  What is real is the choice I made on how to publish the story. This tale of the zombie apocalypse will be ongoing and there’s so much taking place that I didn’t want to try and cram it all into a single book, or even a series of books.

  From the first inkling of an idea that formed in my head, Elixr Plague felt better handled with a broad cast of characters in bite-sized installments.

  I realize this isn’t going to make everyone happy. Those of you who enjoy reading on phones and smaller devices may appreciate being able to finish an episode in one sitting rather than trying to hunt down the bigger device or e-reader and pick up where you left off when you were standing in line at the grocery store. If so, great! This story is for you.

  If you don’t like the serialized format, I may, depending on what feedback I receive, compile the episodes when they reach a certain to-be-ascertained critical mass into books with several episodes, or one big box set. That’s a decision for later.

  For now, I want to focus on the story. And the fastest way to get that story to you is break it up into smaller pieces and publish more frequently. This story is in Kindle Unlimited, so unless you actually buy a copy, I make the same amount of money whether it’s broken up or in one big book.

  When you’re knee deep in the zompoc boogaloo, speed is life.

  To that end, I plan to release the episodes of Elixr Plague every few weeks, to give me time to edit to something approaching professional standards. I’d love to just write an episode and fling it out into the wild, but y’all would take one look at all the typos and walk away. Fast.

  So I’m going to temper my need for speed with a good dose of editorial stoicism and see if I can’t maintain a decent release schedule right from the get go. Hey, if I find it too easy, I reserve the right to speed up.

  Right. Enough shop talk, let’s get to that boogaloo…

  1

  Strangers in a Strange Land

  West of Sault Ste. Marie

  Upper Peninsula, Michigan

  Sometime before dawn, Darren Bruce woke, still behind the wheel of the cop car, his body aching in ways he didn’t think possible. And he was cold—so cold. At some point during the bitter night, he must have hit the ignition button with his knee, because the engine was off and with it the precious heat that had kept them from freezing to death in the night.

  He poked the button with a trembling finger and sighed in relief as the engine turned over with a throaty roar. In a few moments, the car would be warmed up enough to blast heat back at them through the vents and he could thaw his fingers. And it was really weird to see his own breath in the cold air inside the car.

  He glanced at the passenger seat and found Amanda still curled up under the gray wool emergency blanket, right where he’d left her. She seemed peaceful enough—and warm—though the tips of her ears were as pink as her cheeks. The sound of the engine rumbling to life eventually made her stir, and she opened her eyes and blinked at him.

  “Wha—where?” she muttered, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As the blanket fell from her shoulders, she gasped at the cold and snatched it back into place. “Gah! C-cold!”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Darren said, wrapping his arms around himself to suppress a shiver. “It’ll only take a minute to warm up. How are you doing—besides the cold, I mean?”

  She looked at him the way only a woman can when a man asks a stupid question. “I’m hungry, my pants are still wet, and my back hurts. Oh, and we’re in the zombie apocalypse—forgot about that. Yeah, I’d say everything’s just great!” she finished with mock enthusiasm. She immediately lost the smile and frowned at him. “Worst first date ever.”

  Darren laughed then came up short. “Wait—first date?”

  It was Amanda’s turn to laugh. “Relax Darren, just a little apocalypse humor. It’s not like we need to repopulate the species or anything.”

  They stared out the window for a long moment at the ribbon of road stretching into the distance through the trees. “Right?” she whispered after another pause.

  Darren narrowed his eyes. “Is that light over there?” he murmured, forgetting about her joke.

  “What?” she blurted. “Where?”

  He pointed straight ahead. “Look…right there, through the trees…yeah, I think it is.”

  “You’re right! I see it! Like a glow…”

  Darren shifted into gear. “Let’s go check it out. Light means people, right?” He purposely didn’t answer her question about repopulating the species. He was not in the right frame of mind to deal with that just yet, despite what other parts of his body were telling him.

  It took them another twenty minutes to find the source of the light, and the car had warmed up nicely by then, but they weren’t happy to discover where the light came from.

  “So that’s Beacon Point,” Amanda whispered.

  “Was,” Darren added, glancing at the Welcome to Beacon Point sign out the window.

  As they emerged slowly through the canopy of trees, the land on either side of the road opened up into farmland and coastal grasslands. To the right, facing north, Darren figured the black emptiness indicated Lake Superior, bordering the Upper Peninsula along which they drove.

  But it was the sight before them that quashed the rising hope in his heart upon seeing the glow of light in the distance. Beacon Point, or rather—what was left of the little town—was on fire. Darren checked himself and slowed to a stop in the middle fo the road. He put the car in park and slumped back in his seat.

  “God, did they bomb this place, too? Is the Air Force destroying the whole country?”

  “It must mean there’s…infected…or zombies…there…right?” whispered Amanda.

  “Christ, I don’t know,” Darren said, running his hands through his lank, tangled hair. He needed food, he needed something to drink, and he needed above all, a good night’s rest. It was so hard to think.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Amanda moaned from the passenger seat. She had her knees drawn up and rested her chin on them, staring desolately at the raging inferno down the road. Darren thought she looked especially pretty with the soft orange and yellow light reflecting off her hair and face.

  He blinked and turned away from the vision in the seat next to him. Her comment about repopulating the earth floated through his m
ind again. After taking a quick breath, he said, “Well, we obviously can’t stop here…” Then something caught his eye. “Wait…look! Those are headlights over there…to the left! You see ‘em, too, right?”

  Amanda gasped and sat up. “Yeah! I see them! There are people here!”

  “But they’re on the other side of the fire,” Darren said. He squinted at the flames consuming buildings on both sides of the road. “It looks like it’s not so bad after this first block…at least on the left side…look…” he said pointing. “See there? The fire looks like it’s mostly on the north side of town…”

  “Makes sense,” Amanda mused, examining the dying town. “There’s more buildings on the north side. Can we get around this?”

  Darren shook his head. “Not without doing a little off-roading, and I don’t think this squad car was built for that. I’d hate to get us stuck in the mud or something…”

  Amanda’s chin came back down to her knees. “Then what do we do? I don’t remember seeing a side road for a long time back behind us.”

  Darren grimaced. “Yeah, we’ll have to back track for hours to get around this. It’ll be noon before we make it back here.” He slapped the steering wheel in frustration.

  “Can we make it?” Amanda asked, looking at him. “If we drive straight through, I mean?”

  Darren considered her words as he watched the flames. Eventually he shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out. I think maybe I can get us going fast enough so we can scoot through…

  “Look,” Amanda said, sitting up. “The middle of the road looks pretty clear.”

  Darren glanced at her. “Might get hot in here for a minute or two…”

  Amanda swallowed, then tore her eyes from him. “Let’s do it—if there are survivors heading somewhere, we need to follow them. I don’t want to be left behind again…”

  Darren set his jaw and shifted into drive. “Works for me. Hang on.” He floored it and the turbocharged squad car leapt forward like a scalded cat. They flew down the road, flaming structures racing by on either side of the car. The world descended into an angry, painfully bright glare of orange and yellow blurs. An unnatural heat seeped through the windows.

  The first side street they approached, Darren swung a hard left, and the tires squealed through the intersection. And then they were out of the flames and heading south. He slammed on the brakes and they fishtailed to the left, coming to a sudden stop when the tires found purchase on the road again.

  Darren peeled his sweaty hands off the wheel and rubbed his thighs. “Well…that was…something,” he breathed.

  Amanda exhaled and sank a little in her seat. “This is the road trip from hell…”

  “Okay. So, we made it here, let’s—let’s see if we can—”

  Amanda shrieked, a blood-curdling scream that made Darren jump and hit the horn. “What?” He yelled, looking toward Amanda.

  Not ten feet from the car a zombie lurched forward, half its face charred black and peeling off in chunks of gory meat. On blackened stumps of feet, it tottered forward, reaching out with arms covered in smoldering clothes.

  Darren yelled and turned to face the windshield. Another ghoul shambled toward them from across the intersection. “Shit!” he yelled, slamming down the accelerator. The squad car roared, and they hit the second zombie head on. The windshield flashed red and black and after a sickening thump, they swerved down the street while Darren fumbled at the wiper controls.

  “Oh, my God!” Amanda moaned, hiding her face in her hands. “I can’t…”

  “Hold on,” Darren said through clenched teeth as he applied the brakes—a little too harshly. The car shuddered to a stop, and they both pitched forward, then slammed back in their seats. His trembling hand finally found the damn controls, and the wipers smeared red vileness all over the windshield. Amanda scrambled at the door latch next to her, threw it open and spewed the contents of her empty stomach onto the street with a wet splash.

  Darren looked over her shoulder and spotted three more undead creeping across the road. “God, this place is crawling with zombies!”

  “Ugh…” Amanda groaned, pulling herself back into the car and wiping her mouth with the back of her shaking hands. She got a good look at what was approaching across the street and pulled her door shut. “Get us out of here…please…”

  Darren gripped the wheel in white knuckles as his mind raced. They had less than a quarter tank of gas. Where the hell could they go? They didn’t have enough fuel or…well, any food and water at all, really…certainly not enough to get back to school. A sudden realization hit Darren and left a weight in his gut. They’d have to resupply in Beacon Point. He grimaced. The part of Beacon Point that wasn’t burned or taken over by the dead, that is.

  When the wipers had smeared enough gore from the windshield that he could see to drive, he pulled forward, then stopped again. In the distance, he spotted another set of headlights. The other car slowly turned and got into line behind two others, continuing west, like a funeral procession.

  “Why don’t we follow them?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the retreating red brake lights in the distance. Clouds of drifting smoke from the fires to the north briefly obscured everything around them, then the air cleared. He coughed and turned off the heat to keep from sucking more acrid smoke into the cabin.

  “I smell hamburgers…” Amanda put her hand to her mouth and made a gulping sound, her eyes bulging. “Oh, God, I’m gonna be sick again…”

  “Hang in there,” Darren said. He pushed down on the accelerator and they chased the car heading west. “Wherever the hell these guys are going, it’s gotta be better than here.”

  2

  Moving Day

  Traviers Family Farm

  Wythe County, Virginia

  Edith Traviers opened her eyes when Kathy coughed. The straw bed she’d created in the loft by burrowing into the season’s stockpile of hay made her skin itch. Somewhere in the middle of the night she’d finally passed out when the noise slackened from down below—maybe zombies got tired too? The relative quiet, excepting Finley’s rustling around and snorting every now and then, had lulled her into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of the undead and fire. Always fire.

  She stretched, causing a small cascade of straw to tumble over her shoulder, and with it more itchiness. God, she would kill for a hot shower. And some food.

  Sitting up in a cascade of hay, she brushed the random bits from her torso and arms, and busied herself with picking strands from her hair. Kathy sat up, her features dimly lit from the weak light permeating the barn from outside. Their breath plumed in front of their faces and dissipated almost as soon as it appeared.

  Maybe that’s why I was dreaming about fire so much…damn, it’s cold in here.

  “Morning,” Kathy groaned. Bits of straw stuck out of her hair, which already resembled a rat’s nest. She looked nothing like the well-dressed, professionally done-up news reporter she’d been when they’d first met. Had it been only 36 hours now?

  “That it is,” Edith mumbled. She must have slept in a weird position because her right shoulder ached something fierce. It pained her greatly to think that just fifty yards away, on the other side of the wood slats above her head, her parent’s house sat empty, yet and full of food and weapons, compete with running water and electricity…and beds. Clean, soft beds.

  Edith set her jaw. She didn’t know what the hell had happened to the zombies, or where they’d gone—quite frankly she didn’t give two shits. She was getting a hot shower, some hot food, and a good nap, come hell or high water.

  She stood and rubbed the sleep from her eyes—and the straw—then grabbed her rifle from its own little nest next to her bigger depression in the hay. “Anybody notice anything weird?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “I’m really starting to not like hearing you ask that,” Kathy said, stretching her arms over her head. She arched her back and groaned. Edith noticed Finley watching the reporter.
/>   He sat up and yawned. “So, last night sucked.”

  Edith snorted. “Wonder why they stopped banging on the door down there?” She moved to the ladder and climbed down the 2x4 rungs. The ladder, older than Edith herself, still looked new compared to the rest of the barn which had served her family since the late 1800s. It wasn’t the original construct—Yankees had burned that down during the Civil War—but it was a fair approximation of what her ancestors had built on this very land after the American Revolution.

  On the ground again, Edith worked a kink out of her leg and greeted Toby, who stood with ears pricked forward. The great plumes of vapor that appeared in front of his nostrils looked out-of-place inside a building. Edith added winterize the barn to her mental checklist of chores to accomplish on the farm—should they survive the day.

  She moved over to the door by Toby’s stall and placed her head near the wood. Nothing. Then she heard a bird calling in the distance. That was a good sign. “I’m gonna crack the door and take a peek,” she warned the others.

  Kathy and Finley stood with their arms crossed and shoulders hunched, looking miserable and cold, but they nodded ascent.

  Edith unlatched the door and pushed it open just far enough to see a slice of the corral. It was zombie-free and looked undisturbed—another good sign. After confirming she did in fact hear a robin out there, she opened the door wide enough step through.