Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness Read online

  Contents

  Straight Into Darkness

  Copyright Kindle

  Dedication/Epigraph

  PRELUDE - Run, Baby, Run

  Lizzie sat on her fidgeting hands in the...

  PART I - Safety In Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  PART II - Touch Me Fall

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  PART III - Breakdown

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  If you enjoyed STRAIGHT INTO DARKNESS...

  Acknowledgments

  BELLINGHAM, WA

  2015 Rocket Tears Press

  Copyright © 2015 by Robert L. Slater

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Requests for permission to make copies of any portion of the work should contact the publisher: Rocket Tears Press.

  www.RocketTears.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-0-942096-01-6 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-942096-04-7 (mobi)

  E-book Edition

  Editor: Amanda Hagarty

  Copy Editors: Andrea Kinnaman, Elena A. Bianco

  Cover design: Pintado. www.pintado.weebly.com

  Interior design: Random Max

  Text: Baskerville, Calibri & Arial Narrow

  To Shane and Gabe

  and all the others taken too young.

  Strength and honor are her clothing;

  and she shall rejoice in time to come.

  Proverbs 31:25

  Run, Baby, Run

  LIZZIE SAT ON HER FIDGETING hands in the Provisional Utah Government Career Office, waiting with a dozen or more others. Nerves were getting to her. One official was already meeting with her father, Manuel Guerrero. As the receptionist called more people, Lizzie realized they were taking the able-bodied adults first. That made sense—prioritize the most important, most likely to help.

  After a bit, she wandered over to the receptionist, a brunette a little older than herself, but dressed like an adult in a white blouse with a dark blue skirt and blazer. She smiled pleasantly, “May I help you?”

  “How long does this take?”

  “It depends.” The young woman clasped her hands and her eyes swept the waiting room. “You ought to be called soon. Unless I decide to torture you.” Her face betrayed no hint of humor, but her eyes twinkled.

  “I hope you don’t,” Lizzie said, trying not to let herself be cheered up by the joke. Her father re-entered, nodded politely to the man who had taken him inside and hurried toward them.

  The man glanced at his clipboard and said a name. A young man across the room stood up and hurried over.

  Lizzie wanted to say, ‘Hey, I’m older. I should be next,” but she also wanted to find out what had happened to her father. “How’d it go, Dad?”

  “Fine. I get to do planning work until I’m fully recovered.” He made an ugly face. “Organizing supplies and searches. I suggested I could design victory gardens. He said he'd get back to me.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad,” Lizzie offered. “You’re not cleaning toilets.”

  He laughed. “Well, I’d rather deal with real shit than planning and organization.”

  “Not me.” Lizzie grinned. “I’d hate that, too, but not as much.”

  “Lizzie Gooden-Guerrero?” a female voice called from behind her.

  “Coming,” Lizzie called over her shoulder. “Wait for me?”

  “Of course, I don’t have to be to work until tomorrow.”

  Lizzie spun, hustling to the lady with the clipboard.

  The woman, her gray-streaked hair pulled back in a low ponytail, stared over her reading glasses at Lizzie. “Come with me.”

  Lizzie followed the woman who reminded her of someone; she turned abruptly and motioned Lizzie into her small cubicle.

  Lizzie sat. The hand written name tag said Ms. LaFevbre.

  “La Fee Bray. Not Lafeeber or La Fever, please.”

  Lizzie nodded, not trusting her smart-ass mouth. Would she get to be a Collector? Collector was one of those jobs the school counselor told you had not been invented yet. Zach and Duke had been assigned this post-pandemic job of tagging houses for bodies and scavenging for food and resources. No women were allowed outside the walls built out of Semi-Trailers and Panel trucks that had hauled stuff down from Salt Lake City, but there were still some houses to be collected and inventoried inside the walls. The rule wasn’t fair, but the council said it was temporary.

  She smoothed her jeans as if they were a skirt, rather than picking at them with her flitting fingers, and smiled calmly at Ms. LaFevbre.

  “Well. You’re almost 18?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie nodded trying to not be too eager. “In January.”

  “Yes.” Ms. LaFevbre’s eyes scanned down the chart. “And you’re pregnant.”

  “That’s what the doctor says,” Lizzie made sure to sound jovial and not sarcastic.

  “Married?”

  “What?”

  “Are you, or were you, married?”

  “No. What difference does that make?”

  LaFevbre’s eyes scrutinized Lizzie’s clothes and then narrowed in on her face. “I suppose it makes no difference now.”

  “Any issues with reading? Glasses? Dyslexia?”

  “No. Nothing. ADHD. Not currently medicated.”

  LaFevbre pursed her lips and glared over her glasses. “You’ll be in school. Extra classes for childbirth and child rearing.”

  Lizzie’s heart sank. Classes. That was it. La Fever reminded Lizzie of her stern second grade teacher, Mrs. March. Just the name March made her want to avoid school.

  “I’m really good at collecting. Back home in Bellingham, my friend and I saved a baby and got him all situated.” School was not a job; Lizzie had never believed that lie. Jess was working with animals, Nev as an administrative assistant and Rachael with kids in a day-care.

  “The toddler,” LaFevbre said brusquely. “Sebastian A. Jones. Perhaps you’ll learn how to raise him and he won’t be taken from you.”

  Lizzie’s jaw dropped. Did she really just say that?

  “You will report to the Career and Technical Services building.”

  “But…”

  “Since you are already pregnant, you may arrive late and miss the first class on procreation. Report to Room 212 at 8:05 a.m. tomorrow. That is all.”

  “But, I don’t want to. I want a real job.”

  One eyebrow raised behind the glasses. “Do you wish to eat?”

  “Yes, but-”


  “The rules are clear, as is your job. No one else can do it for you. Have your baby. Then depending on how you do, you may be allowed to apply for other work.”

  Lizzie gritted her teeth and stood. “Thank you, madam,” she said and left, revving up for an explosion.

  By the time she reached her father, it must have been fully visible on her face. His hands motioned, Calm down, but Lizzie blew past him when she saw that.

  The receptionist called, “Miss? Are you all right?” as Lizzie slammed the door.

  Safety In Numbers

  Chapter One

  LIZZIE SKIRTED THE CIRCLES OF LIGHT cast by street lamps on the snow-scattered streets north of Provo, now known as The City to its inhabitants. Lizzie called it The Shitty when she wasn’t feeling charitable. The Council had decided to leave the lights on until the Collections were finished, even in areas outside the new city wall.

  Avoiding the lights kept her on her toes, and helped her find her escape route.

  The January cold bit through her layers of clothing. Some of the Council’s rules made sense, but women not being allowed to leave without escort? That was as stupid as they came. What did her gender have to do with it? She had taken care of herself and Saj crossing the country. But if someone caught her out here, they would probably lock her up to protect her baby. In order to get out, she had to skip out with only the clothes on her back and hope to get more gear on the way. Happy Belated-fucking eighteenth Birthday, Lizzie.

  Someone was following her. It could be paranoia, but paranoia had its place in this fucked-up post-outbreak world. Hell, paranoia had its uses in the old world. She ran down the center of the street, her feet stepping where the drifting snow might cover her tracks.

  She rounded a corner and then skidded to a stop. In the distance, someone shambled—one of the “dog-people”—she could tell by its loping gait.

  It made her think of Spike. The first dog-man she had known, she’d named Spike. Because he had a spiked collar and the brains of a smart dog. Her breath caught as she thought of him. He had exchanged his life for hers. His heart was still human in the end, even if the virus had damaged his brain.

  This dog-person was a woman. Lizzie ducked behind a car. The dog-woman shuffled along, past her.

  The Collectors tried to pick them up whenever they were spotted; Lizzie still wasn’t sure why. They were probably taken care of and given menial labor jobs. Some were still capable of doing tasks if given explicit instructions.

  The houses stared at her, each like a death mask, the overwhelming costs of the Flu pandemic reflected in their hollow eyes. Behind those empty eyes lay the dead—the hundreds of millions who didn’t survive. People like Mama and Jayce. Quiet forever.

  The world had gotten more silent. That was why Lizzie had named the outbreak. The Quieting.

  Clean up crews and Collectors had been this way already, she could tell by the red and green spray paint tags on the houses. The only dead on this street were in her imagination.

  A car engine disturbed the quiet of the snow. She slid behind a wooden fence, spying on the street through a knothole. A cop car rolled into view—one of The Shitty’s finest, out to serve and protect.

  One question was on Lizzie’s mind: Is he out here to serve his protection on me? Only Rachael knew she was gone, because Lizzie had left Saj with her. No one else should notice until Monday morning. They kept a closer eye on the Preggers like her, but all the sleeping and puking she did meant people didn’t check too closely. She should have another day. She needed it.

  The cop stopped at the next intersection, turned a circle inside it, and stopped, idling.

  The door opened and the cop stepped out, dark hair, buzz-cut and a bit of a paunch. He looked like a cop, not just someone who had been given the job since the Quieting. That might make him better at his job.

  Lizzie sidled along the fence, and worked her way around to the back of the house. A car door slammed—the engine revved and moved away. She crossed between backyards to get to the next street over. When she came out from behind the next house, she ran into the cop.

  “Where are you going, Miss?” His hands grasped hers.

  Act dumb. She stared at him, trying to look confused. She cocked her head to the side and moved her mouth without any sounds coming out.

  “Don't know your game, but you're not one of them—”

  She twisted and ran back the way she'd come.

  “Don't do this, girly.” He huffed after her.

  In moments, her side ached. He was too close; his breath came in bursts behind her. Up ahead she saw the dog-lady. She grasped the simple-minded woman’s clothes and spun her into the cop’s path. The woman skidded and fell as Lizzie pushed her away hard to get an extra burst of speed.

  She couldn't hear the officer's heavy breath, so she hazarded a glance back. The officer was bent over helping the dog-lady stand. A moment of guilt tore at Lizzie's heart as she ran on.

  Her mission should have been easy. The night curfew meant no one on the streets, no one but the patrols. Her mistake. She needed to get out of The City and into the suburbs quickly. The railroad track cut across her path, so she headed down into the ditch beside it.

  Lizzie stumbled along the rocks and discarded railroad ties for a couple miles, her breath coming in ragged puffs, until she came to the next place the tracks crossed a street. She veered off onto the street again, giving up concealment for the luxury of easier travel. These streets were blown clean of snow, and she ran, ignoring the stitch in her side. But the pain grew until she was forced to slow to a brisk walk.

  She clutched her side for a few more steps and then her hand slid down to her belly. Maybe the little guy couldn’t take all this excitement. She pulled out her phone and checked the directions.

  It still amazed her how things like cell signal and GPS worked when there wasn’t anyone left running the utilities. Glen had barraged her with techno-talk attempting to explain. It left her with a headache; all she got out of the conversation was that a lot of stuff was automated.

  The hill ahead gave a good vantage point to check her path and see if anyone followed. She hunkered down behind a parked car and let her heart and breathing return to normal. Through its snow-dusted windows, she watched for pursuit, checking to see if the car had keys in the ignition. If only she knew how to hot-wire a car, then she could drive most of the way there.

  She twisted her scarf one more loop around her neck to keep it out of the slush and scanned the distance. The only thing moving was her shivering self. She would kill for a shot of 151 and a Marlboro Red. It would get her warmed up, and how much harm could that do? But the heat wouldn't be real and she'd probably die out here like the Little Match Girl.

  Lizzie pulled out her phone and slid her nose across the screen to unlock it without taking off her bulky gloves. Saj’s toddler grin greeted her as it came to life. She would have new baby photos soon too. A new collection of memories—she would not let these ones go so easily.

  The phone buzzed and startled Lizzie; it slipped from her fingers. She fought to grab it but only managed to bounce it off her thigh and onto her foot before it skidded across the road and into the snow.

  “Shit.”

  Maybe she had better liberate another phone or two from houses on the way, and get Glen to set them up on the cloud. She pulled it out of the snow and wiped it off. The rubber case was scuffed, but the buzzing continued.

  “Hello,” she whispered.

  “Lizzie?” Glen’s baritone voice boomed in her ear. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” she said in her normal voice. “I think someone’s following me. I’m about twelve miles away.”

  “So you made it three miles since yesterday? That’s all?”

  “Fuck you. Who is pregnant, freezing her ass off, out here avoiding the Collectors and clean-up crews? Nice and warm where you are, Glen?”

  “Uncle!” His breath wheezed out. “I’m just anxious.”

&nbs
p; “Yeah. I can tell.” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

  When Glen hinted about this geeky mission, Lizzie had jumped on the chance to leave The City. It was the excuse she had been looking for. The walls closed in tighter and tighter every day as more “sensible” rules came down from Council. According to Glen, she could get to this secret location and back to Provo in a few days, though she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to go back. It was supposed to be something she thought about while she made the trek.

  “This place ought to be amazing,” Glen's voice raised a notch. “And if it’s far enough away from The City,” he hushed his voice, “maybe I can move in and get away from these idiots up here.”

  “Breeders giving you trouble?”

  “Daily. But maybe this place will be somewhere I can move shop and escape.”

  “Escape is a great plan,” she sighed. “Look Glen. I gotta go. Do me a favor? Next time I call you, ask if I’ve got my back-up phone yet.”

  “Back-up phone?” He chuckled. “Sure, Lizzie. Good luck.”

  “What's so funny?”

  “Nothing. I'll tell you later.”

  Lizzie hung up. Clearly, no one was following her. She jogged along further, with her paranoia slightly sedated, her mind flitting to other worries. She still hadn’t had a chance to think about what she would do when she found this place. Should I stay, or should I go? Everyone who wanted her safe would still be overprotective. The walls were not going to disappear anytime soon—if anything there would be more and bigger walls as time went on. Did she really want to leave all the safety of The City? Probably not.

  When it came time to have the baby, it was the place to be. She envied the hairy-legs, live-in-the-woods type who could just squat and pop out a little bundle of joy, but she wanted a hospital, doctors, and definitely drugs. The movie she had seen in health class of a live birth had deeply affected her. Not enough to keep her from having sex, but she would never forget it. Having this baby was scary enough without being alone and undrugged when it came. She liked her pain under control.