Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (13 page)

“You really want to do this don’t—” Stan started.

“We can live if we stay out of their way,” Ian said. “We can’t beat them. Not with an army of nerds and renegade soldiers.”

“You all are afraid of dying aren’t you?” Purdy asked.

“I’m not worried about dying,” Josh said. “I just don’t want to come back. I’m already ugly enough.”

He wiped his fingers off on the bench. Purdy’s hand hastened to his rifle. When Josh’s greasy fingers landed safely in his lap, Purdy’s hand returned to the steering wheel.

“Yeah, you and me definitely need to have a talk,” Purdy said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:14:20

Two hours into the drive, Ian sat up. After he downed a liter of water, some of his color came back, but he wasn’t out of the park yet. “I know you hate questions, but where are we going?”

“My family has a place out in the middle of nowhere,” Purdy said.

“You were passed out when we decided and I didn’t want to wake you,” Stormy said.

Ian’s glare burned into Josh’s forehead. He opened his mouth, but waved his comment off a breath later.

“You sure your folks won’t be popping in?” Stan asked. “We might be there a while.”

“Dad inherited the place,” Purdy said. “He bought a retirement home in Boca Raton and mom is in Europe somewhere. They won’t be by. Not even during the apocalypse.”

“Where’s it at?” Josh asked.

“The same place it’s always been.”

It took two more gas stops and an extra four hours to get out of dodge without the help of the interstate. A collected sense of relief grew thick in the M-RAP when they hit the state line. Ian snored, Josh tried to repair the laptop, and the others followed the median line into the night.

Stormy had only been this far west once. She had never even heard of the counties they drove through and soon lost count of the dirt roads the M-RAP turned down. It wasn’t until the sun returned to the sky that her eyelids threatened mutiny, but the new view was too intriguing to deny. Even though she had no factual image to challenge them with, the passing cornfields looked fake to her. The stalks were too waxy, too tall, and far too green to be real.

The last gas stop was a quarter mile from the county line. Stormy had finally nodded off and didn’t realize they had stopped until the M-RAP lumbered back to life. She instantly felt the need for a restroom break, but dared not ask Purdy to turn around. Stan plunked down a paper bag full of food behind his seat. They couldn’t be that far out now, not if they shopped for groceries. She could hold it.

Ten miles of dirt road later, she read a dusty wooden sign that marked the edge of a neglected and overgrown property. “Aranchea?”

“It was my Grandmother’s family name,” Purdy said.

Stan leaned over the dash to get a better look at the weathered two-story wood frame house. “Cool.”

Purdy started in on Josh while he was still crawling out of the M-RAP.

“Don’t you dare mess nothing up, touch nothing—”

Josh’s hands flew up in surrender. “I will take care of the place like it’s mine.”

“Take care of it better than that.”

The house was rickety, but had irresistible charm. Like it was the home to hundreds of holiday dinners. Stormy let the home’s external features distract her from her urgent need to use the bathroom. The sunbaked siding hung on for dear life, but parts of the porch had given up long ago. She shifted from foot to foot while she waited for the guys to guide Ian up the walk.

“Where’s your key?” Stormy asked.

Purdy’s head tilted. “You think I’m breaking in or something?”

“No. I meant, where do you keep your key?” She moved a long dead potted plant to the side and was headed for another when Purdy dangled his keys in front of him.

“On my key chain . . . with the others.” Purdy cocked his head again.

“Some people leave spares around their house,” Josh said.

“Must be a white person thing,” Purdy said. “Why even lock the door if you’re gonna leave the key outside. Seriously?”

The door had one of the worst creaks Stormy ever heard. A haunting vibe replaced the house’s charm and it was the threshold’s fault. She didn’t let that stop her from rushing inside the house on Purdy’s heels.

For some reason, her eyes refused to adjust to the darkness. She panned around in search of anything that looked like a bathroom door. “Where’s your restroom?”

“Down there on the right.” Purdy flipped on the circuit breakers. “It’s the only one so don’t be a hog.”

The bathroom door shared the same over the top creak as the front door, but that was all she was able to absorb about the new space in her frenzy to relieve herself. She failed to notice a rather important detail until the emergency was over. There wasn’t a shred of toilet paper or any other paper product to be found in the creaky bathroom.

Without a doubt, that was the best shower of her life. The feeling of washing away the last twenty-four hours was indescribable. It was also the longest twenty-three minutes of Ian’s life. Next in line for the shower, he waited on the floor outside the bathroom door, towel in hand. At the twenty-minute mark, all his beliefs about gentlemen, chivalry, and good southern manners seemed to go out the window. His fist reached up to the door several times, but never quite committed to rushing Stormy along.

Ian finally got his turn, but didn’t drag it out. Clean, but still dripping, he was in the kitchen before Stormy had loosened one of the dozens of knots in her hair. Purdy had most of the food put away when Stormy jumped in to help. His phone rang. He continued to stack perishables onto dusty pantry shelves.

“Put it on speaker for me, please.”

The caller ID tag read Mom. Stormy accepted the call, but couldn’t find the speakerphone button in time.

“Jerome?” Purdy’s mom said.

“Hold on one second, Ma’am, I’ll put him—”

Purdy ripped the cell from her hand. He finished putting the groceries away while he tried to explain Stormy to his mother. Josh returned from his shower looking like he still needed one. Stormy was so busy eavesdropping, she was late to caution him not to talk.

“Thanks for using all the hot water, jerk,” Josh shouted at Ian.

Ian and Stormy fixed ramrod stiff index fingers over their mouths. Oblivious to their hints, and wronged by an icy shower, he rambled on. He didn’t get the hint until Purdy spun around from the pantry and shot his death look across the kitchen.

“No, Mom. I’m not involved with anyone—especially her,” Purdy said.

Stormy tried to be quiet as she helped set plates and silverware on the island. It seemed like the more she tried, the louder the clinks were. She avoided Purdy’s eyes, just in case it was her turn to get glared at.

He never tried to lower his voice or hide his conversation. “Yes, Mom. They’re white folk.”

Stormy felt Purdy’s expectation of privacy. She locked eyes with Ian and nodded toward the living room. He pushed away from the island and yanked Josh in line as he passed.

The running water from Stan’s shower was hard to hear over in the living room. Purdy’s voice was muffled now, but it still didn’t sound like he was being read the riot act.

“You going to call your folks?” Josh asked.

“I will after we eat,” Ian said. “I’m freaking famished.”

Stormy rubbed her forehead. The thought of explaining all of this made her want to send a group text message. Then she wouldn’t have to tell her mother verbally that her boyfriend was dead.

“I may just skip the food and go to bed,” Josh said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Where are you sleeping?” Ian asked.             

Josh slid down on the couch and stretched out. “Right here.”

Purdy shouted into the living room, “I will eat all this damn food just to spite ya’ll.”

Stormy followed the sounds of potato chip bags opening into the kitchen. Purdy was the last to find a chair. His gaze floated around the munching group for a moment before lowering in front of his plate.

He spoke into his clasped hands. “Lord, we just want to thank you for this nourishment.”

All forks hit plates and silenced. Josh’s cheeks puffed with food, but stopped moving.

“For providing safety and for blessing this food we are about to eat. In your name, amen.”

Ian’s amen was a bit choppy, but the rest provided a fluid, timely response.

The subs and potato salad were gas station quality, but that didn’t stop Stormy from piling it all in. Her plate cleared in record time, but she slowed down when her eyes hit Purdy’s plate and saw that he was still decorating it with salt, pepper, and hot sauce. She studied him for a minute, until Josh’s incessant chewing broke her concentration. She spoke loudly, hoping her voice would drown him out. “Is it okay to call from our cells?”

“I don’t see the point in hiding from anyone,” Purdy said. “If they want us, they’ll find us.”

“Did you get my computer to come back to life?” Ian asked.

“Sort of,” Josh said. “You’re out of safe mode.”

“Once my computer’s back up and running I can get some calls out safely.” Ian said. “After I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, but we have to ditch our phones and get new ones,” Josh said.

“I’m not ditching my phone.” Purdy held his fork, prongs up, like a tiny trident.

“If you let me see your phone, I’ll make it safe for you to use,” Ian said.

“You ain’t messing up my phone.”

“It will only take me a few minutes and you’ll never know I touched it. Trust me.”

Purdy glared at Ian while he dug in his pocket. He slid the phone across the table. “I want it back after we eat. And don’t touch my Angry Birds.”

“You still play that?” Ian disassembled the phone’s casing. “I’m going to need my backpack.”

“It’s in the living room,” Josh said.

“Don’t touch my Angry Birds. Matter of fact, give me back my damn phone.”

“I’m not going to touch—”

Eager to change the subject, Stormy dropped a second helping on her plate. “This is really good. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Josh said.

“Appreciate it,” Ian said.

Fresh from his shower, Stan nodded once in Purdy’s direction as he sat down. “Food looks awesome.”

Purdy nodded at each thanker before taking his next bite. “My Mom said hi, and not to touch nothing.”

Stormy swallowed hard to choke down a nervous laugh.

“Especially you, thief.” Purdy’s eyes zeroed in on Josh, who suddenly felt the urge to rest his silver fork on his plate. If plastic ware were an option, Josh probably would’ve requested it.

The meal concluded when Ian handed over Purdy’s phone in proper working, yet untraceable order. Purdy deposited Ian and Stan in a small bedroom that still had the markings of a nursery, although it clearly sat through a makeover in the early eighties. Josh was made aware that he had no business being upstairs and then Purdy let Stormy into a tiny room in-between the others. He reminded her not to knock on the master bedroom door for any reason, to include an attack, before heading down to take his long overdue shower. Stormy was too tired to sneak a peek at the master bedroom, although she wasn’t sure when her next chance would be.

The decor was floral on floral. It screamed, to grandma’s house we go. It wasn’t the floral overload that every fabric store offered, but instead an elegant ambiance of whites on ivories contrasted with eggshell on silver. Every room had a distinct version, from the second story bedroom drapes down to the overstuffed furniture in the living room. The only room that didn’t sport delicate flowers on the wallpaper was the solitary bathroom on the first floor. The color scheme was the same, but the pattern was striped. Thin lines, like a pinstripe suit. Stormy had to get up close to make out where the off-white stopped and the pale yellow began. Less than two hours on the property and she felt like she knew grandma so well that she missed her.

The hints of brass that lined the chairs and the edges of the dressers fit subtly instead of going overboard. It was a look that didn’t seem misplaced here in the middle of nowhere, but would’ve been entirely inappropriate back in the 21st century. The room made Stormy crave comfort food, which made her think of her own bedroom, and the one person whose embrace always felt like shelter in a rainstorm. The person she had witnessed die and then come back in the worst way. Somehow she still wanted him next to her as she collapsed into this foreign bed.

A familiar image of Matt sent her off to sleep. Pillow tucked under his head, his eyes ravaging as his hands reached across the covers in her direction. But that image turned. By early afternoon, he was covered in burns and his eyes were depleted and frosty. His blood-stained teeth showed as he smothered her in his arms. When Stormy broke free of her nightmare, she was entangled in strange sheets. Terror confined her to the bed until she could remember where she was and why Matt wasn’t with her.

There was no quiet afternoon waiting for her. Everyone was groggy and most were irritable. For over an hour, she dodged the inevitable call. She wanted control of her voice before she explained what should be one grievous death, not the dozens she actually witnessed.

“Just stay off the mainland for a while, Mom,” she said.

“For how long?” Concern had crept into Eva’s voice, which always made her jump an octave.

“Just a while.”
If I’m still alive in a year, maybe you can come down.

Stormy was about to rehash her manufactured lie. At least this fifth time around, her mother sounded less concerned. Eva was buying it, if for no other reason because she couldn’t get a straight answer. It didn’t help Stormy’s case that Eva had blown her phone up the day before, when she had been as far removed from her cell as she could with it shoved in her back pocket.