Wormwood Dawn (Episode II) (8 page)

“He’s been scoping us out,” Dan said. “Recently, too. This is near Dennis’ house.”

Drew smacked his palm to his forehead, his eyes as wide as a donkey’s asshole. “
Jesus Christ!”
he shouted. “That was just a few fucking days ago!”

Dan was speechless. Though the woman was still thrashing, growling, and spitting just a few feet away, he was dead set on the photos. Whoever this guy was, he had been watching their every move. He watched them loot and burn down Dennis’ house; hidden somewhere nearby. He had probably watched them do everything else, including killing the horde of attacking shufflers and the hunter-thing.

“What. The. Fuck.” Dan growled.

Angered and terrified, he raised his shotgun, blasting the woman’s head off.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said. “Let’s burn this fuckin’ house down, too.”

He didn’t have to tell Drew twice.

Upstairs, they rolled up scattered papers and made torches. They went room to room, setting curtains, clothes, and posters on fire, seemingly with a vengeance. Neither of them said a word as they torched the place.

Dan blasted the sicko’s body a few times with his shotgun, then whipped out his dick and doused it with piss, spitting on him the whole time. When he returned to the living room, Drew was gathering the notebooks from the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Grab those fuckers. I wanna see what this sick fuck was up to.”

“Adios, motherfucker,” Drew said as they ducked out the door.

“I pissed on him,” Dan said, laughing.

“Damn,” Drew said. “I have to shit, too. Shoulda told me.”

Dan chugged two beers when they got home. He sat on one side of the couch, perusing a notebook, as Drew sat at the other end with another notebook and a bottle of whiskey. The notebooks were full of strange diary entries, random macabre sketches, and maps of local areas; all written in the same halting, crooked hand.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever read,” Drew said. “This guy was some kind of evil genius or something.”

Dan was silent. He couldn’t stop thinking about the photos. Even the notebook in front of him became a blur. None of it made sense to him. It was all just lines and squiggles.

“It looks like he’s been watching everyone on the street,” Drew continued. “There’s detailed information about all of them; Shirley, Gary and Linda, Dennis… everybody. Even Steve is in here.”

“What kind of info?” Dan asked.

Drew shook his head. “Really detailed stuff; birthdates, birthplaces, descriptions, habits. This guy was busy.”

Busy. Dan repeated the word in his head. It was descriptive enough. This guy was obsessive.

“Jesus,” Drew said slowly. “Look at this.”

He handed the notebook to Dan. The words were still a blur at first, but as Dan focused, they became clear…

And shocking.

Subject, resident

Daniel Adam Parker

DOB 06/03/1971

Place of birth: Fresno, CA

Description: White male, appx 5’9” 145lbs – complexion varies by season and frequency of inebriation. Long dishwater blond hair, facial hair varies (no regular pattern of shaving) blue eyes, unhealthy but fully present teeth, odd gait. Dresses in random, unstylish clothing. May be stronger than he looks.

Personality: Withdrawn, quiet, possible sociopathic behavior. Does not appear to have social anxiety, but doesn’t like other people. Chronic alcoholic, frequently seen with beer and/or hard liquor. Known drug user. No marijuana, but takes pain killers. Does not seem to have an addiction to them, but still takes them frequently. May be addicted only to Oxy. Likes guns, seems to prefer large caliber bolt-action rifles. Does not leave house very often. Grills often (good opportunity?)

Modus Operandi: Better to gain confidence through drugs or alcohol and perform blitz. Would be fun to feed oxycodone, then watch him withdraw over and over again until he begs for
MERCY!!!!!

UPDATE: Only known associate (see next entry) appeared at night. Seen together around the street, looting. May be difficult to abduct with friend present. May just have to kill them both at home.

“Jesus Christ,” Dan said. “How does he know all this?”

He stared at the words for a while, reading them over and over again. This guy knew everything about him, it seemed. He must have been watching him for a while. But there were details that he could never have known; not by watching him, anyway.

A panic attack was coming on. Quick.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Drew’s hand, taking several large swigs as his heart pounded in morbid, heavy, beats. He turned the page.

Subject, outsider

Drew Michael Kincaid

DOB 12/09/1985

Place of birth: Indianapolis, IN

Description: White male (Greek?) approx 5’ 9” 160lbs. Slightly dark complexion. Close cropped black hair, brown eyes, perpetual five o’clock shadow (ethnic trait?) Slightly stylish clothes but not too flashy. Glasses. Walks with nondescript gait.

Personality: Outgoing, social, no idea why he associates with Dan. Drinks. Smokes marijuana. Does not appear to use other drugs. Non-serious demeanor. Possible sociopath.

Modus Operandi: Will probably have to kill him outright. Can’t think of anything fun to do with him. Showed up at previous entry’s house on night I was planning to take him. Ruined my plans. Will seek revenge. Beheading maybe?

Dan shook his head. “Christ, man,” he said. “If you hadn’t have showed up, this freak would have killed me.”

Drew lit a cigarette, pursing his lips. They were both in shock, and it was clear that they had just skimmed by their own possible deaths. Despite surviving the end of the world, they could have ended up in some fuck’s basement, cut into pieces or nailed to a table.

The mutual terror was obvious.

“Zombie food,” Drew said, finally.

“I wonder if that chick was already a mutant when she was chained up,” Dan said, “or if she was down there when the mist came.”

Drew shook his head. “Don’t know, man,” he said. “I don’t think it would get down in the basement. Maybe that’s how some people survived at first. They were all down in the basement.”

Dan thought about it for a moment. It didn’t make any sense, but he thought about it anyway. Why the fuck not? It was as good as any other explanation. He suddenly found it humorous. He didn’t know why, but the more he thought about it, the more hilarious it seemed.

He burst out in laughter. Drew stared at him like he was a madman, slowly grinning until he lost it, too.

“I was in the basement,” Drew said through his gut bouncing laughs.

Dan laughed harder. “I don’t have a fucking basement.”

Drew doubled over, nearly choking. They continued laughing for several minutes, gasping for breath, until Pauli finally emerged from the hallway. He stared at them with his bulging eyes and underbite, almost seeming to ask “what the fuck is going on?” His appearance strengthened their laughter, and Pauli turned to find another quiet place to lay down.

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” Drew said. “What a fucky day.”

Dan’s laughter died down as his amusement was replaced by a sense of relief. Whatever the freaky killer had been planning, he had failed. He couldn’t take the end of the world, apparently, and had ended his own life in a brutal and disturbing fashion; probably leaving his victims to die in the basement.

“I definitely have to tell Jake about this,” Dan said, getting up to drag his laptop back to the couch.

He switched it on while Drew lit some candles. When it booted up, he opened the bulletin board, glad to see it was still up. A video was posted center screen, with the familiar face of Martin Patterson, alive and well.

“For those of you who have been keeping up, our station has been under reorganization. We are still committed to bringing you updates, and keeping the citizens of south central Indiana connected. We are happy to say that, with our new location, our equipment and signal is even stronger.

National Guard troops have provided us with a safe haven, stocked with high powered communication equipment, a safe place to broadcast and run our bulletin boards, and even a greater connection with other small networks around the country. As you can see, this BBS is now networked with a host of many others. Our forums are now collectively linked, and people all around the east coast to the Midwest can freely communicate.

This is Martin Patterson, wishing you a safe and comfortable journey into the future.”

“Cool,” Drew said. “Technology rocks.”

Dan scoffed. “If only they could get the power back on.”

There was a notification icon in the lower right corner, showing that his previous post had gotten a few replies. He clicked it.

The first reply was from
AbdullahFeyr:

That is a disturbing find, friend. It had never occurred to me that the floaters could be egg sacs. Previously being a med student, my training in biology never prepared me for this kind of strange life form. I have never seen a floater, but you’re right, it must be some kind of dispersal system for the pathogen. Once the host becomes infected with the orange mist pathogen, it can mutate inside them into various forms. I don’t know why or how it takes on different characteristics depending on the host, however. That remains a mystery; just as much a mystery as what the pathogen actually is, or where it came from.

The fact that the Lysol seemed to kill the spores/eggs is interesting. This may indicate that there is a cure, or at least a vaccine. At least for the floater strain. I do worry that the infection may have spread to you. Please keep me posted if you experience any ill effects. You may add me to your friend list.

Thank you for posting the photos. They are incredibly valuable to those of us who are studying this plague.

May Allah (PBUH) watch over you and your friend.

“Hmm,” Dan said. “Seems like a nice guy. He’s a doctor, too. At least, he was
going
to be.”

“Strahd71 replied, too,” Drew pointed out.

Not good. Those pictures are really disturbing. It looks like there’s another, unknown strain going around with some other effects. No one has seen any of these floaters up close, so we don’t even know if the spores they carry are the same as what all the infected are carrying. We could be dealing with multiple infections.

If you see me online, click me. I got some interesting private news.

Dan moved his mouse pointer to the right side of the screen, scrolling through the names of online users. Jake’s handle had a green dot next to it. He clicked it, bringing up the chat window.

He typed:
Hey buddy!

A few seconds later, the camera icon appeared, making the connection. Jake’s big, smiling face appeared.

“Dan, Dan, the man with the plan,” Jake said.

“Hey, Jake,” he pulled Drew over. “This is Drew.”

Jake waved his hand. “Hey Drew,” he said. “Nice job chopping the Stalker’s head off.”

Drew grinned. “It was nothin’,” he joked. “Do it all the time.”

Jake chuckled, reaching over to grab something. He held up a military-style meal packet the size of a cassette tape. Dan recognized it from his trips to the surplus store.

“This is all we have to eat now,” Jake said. “We’re running out of supplies quick. The army guys here are sharing their MREs, but we’re going through them quickly. It looks like we’ll have to relocate.”

“Fuck, man,” Dan said. “To where?”

Jake shook his head. “Don’t know, brutha. But they want us to stick together. I have a different opinion, but it’s hard to argue with guys with guns.”

“Will they let you go out alone?” Drew asked.

“Sure, they just
insist
that we stick together. Some people have left in small groups, but no one has gone out alone. Even those groups had a set destination, though, and an escort.”

“Any way you can make it down here?” Dan asked. “It’s pretty far, but the roads should be okay. I think the mercs are centered around the larger cities. We’ve seen them around here, but they were looking for specific people, I think.”

“Yeah,” Drew added. “As far as they know, this street is abandoned now. I don’t think they’ll be back.”

Jake thought for a moment, turning his head to the side and tapping his fingers on the desk. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, finally. “In the meantime, anything going on?”

“Well,” Dan said, looking at Drew, “we just encountered a serial killer.”

“Oh?” Jake said, intrigued. He smiled, leaning in closer. “Do tell.”

Dan related the story, telling him of the killing room—which seemed to bring a smile to Jake’s face—and the chained up, infected woman. Drew flipped through the notebooks, showing Jake some of the sketches, and the stalking entries. Jake was amazed, and a little amused. He shook his head in disbelief and shock—maybe a little more enthusiastically than was necessary.

“That is some seriously fucked up shit,” Jake said. “You dodged a bullet on that one. Or, should I say a chainsaw. Man, a post-apocalyptic serial killer. But hey, why not? Who’s gonna care, right?”

“I suppose,” Dan agreed. “What did you think of the floater photos?”

Jake shook his head again. “I’m still pretty miffed about that,” he said. “Not sure why the infection would need a method like that to spread. It’s been spreading just fine through bites.”

“The Lysol seemed to kill whatever was left,” Dan said. “So I’m thinking it’s some kind of fungus, maybe?”

“I don’t know man,” Jake said. “That might be, but most of the doctors say that the original infection was some kind of virus. This new thing, though… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a method of making it airborne. Who knows? There’s all sorts of crazy shit going on. Did you read about the climber that the kid posted about?”

“Yeah, I saw that. That was really freaky.”

Drew chimed in. “I saw a video just like that several years ago,” he said. “It was in Russia, I think. Same shit. There was a weird, really skinny thing crawling on the side of a building. Could be related maybe.”

“Related to each other, yes, but maybe not to the infection. He’s the only one who has posted anything about it, other than the kid in Russia. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the infection.”

Drew stood up. “Need a beer?”

Dan nodded. “Jake, try to leave. You can come here. Maybe we can sneak out and pick you up somewhere.”