Tracking Blood: Episode 12

An apocalyptic serial

Table of Contents

Note: The main story is free to read for everyone, however paid subscribers will have access to many longer episodes that include extra scenes, characters, and sub-plots. Consider subscribing to enjoy the expanded story, as well as to support the author.

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Seated on the small bed, Stanley held the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding. The coppery taste of it stung his throat. He swallowed the blood, trying not to think of the infected people on the videos he’d watched doing something very similar.

Will was at the window, as he’d been for the last twenty minutes. The hunter had gone nuts out there for a while, beating on the door, slamming his body against the side of the cabin, scratching and screaming. Luckily, Stan had chosen this place for how well it was built. The cabin was made to stand up to the worst storms Pennsylvania could throw at it, and then some. Eventually the hunter had stopped, probably wandered off and disappeared back into the forest. He was out there somewhere, likely stalking more food. They could only hope the meal he found wasn’t human.

Will finally got comfortable enough to move away from the window. He held up the rifle in the form of a question. “You carry now?”

“I found it outside,” Stanley said. His voice was nasal from holding his nose shut.

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s a hunting rifle, obviously his.” He nodded to the now silent door.

Stanley’s brother laid the rifle on the table. He looked shaken under his stony mask. “How did you appear like that?” he asked.

“I saw the rifle laying in the snow.” He pointed to the window at the back of the cabin, opposite the door. “When I went out to get it, I heard the screams in the forest. I hauled it back inside just in time to see someone coming out of the trees. To be honest, I never expected it to be you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Will said.

“Then I don’t understand the question.”

Will’s eye twitched. “I got here last night. Your van was here. You weren’t. Then suddenly this morning, you’re here.”

“Oh,” Stanley said. “That.” He took the pressure off of his nose, relieved to find the bleeding had stopped. He stood up from the bed and went to the center of the room, next to the table. Will snatched the rifle up as if Stanley was going for it. “Relax,” Stanley said. Then he bent down and found the false plank of wood in the floor.

Stanley pulled the hidden trapdoor open. When it was resting up on its hinge, Will told him to step back and took a cautious step forward to look down into the hidden room. He inspected the insulated wall, the ladder leading down.

“Just as paranoid as ever,” Will said.

“It’s not paranoia if you’re right.”

Will looked back up at him. “What, Stan, what exactly are you right about?” Will asked, his nostrils flaring. “What’s so important that you had to come all the way out here?”

“That thing out there. I know what it is. I know who made it.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s a secret military bioweapon manufactured in a place called Warehouse Alpha, it combines Marburg with a drug called-”

“I said shut up.” Will took out his cell phone and dialed the cops, but there was no response.

“The infrastructure is failing,” Stanley pointed out.

“It’s a small-town police force, they’re lucky if they have two phones.” Will tried to make another call, this time to Tanya.

Stanley scoffed. “Are you planning to live your whole life willfully ignorant? Our government didn’t just fail us, it doomed us.”

The call dropped. “Knock it off. You sound like mom when you start with that.” He dialed again.

“At least mom lived with her eyes open. She tried for years to tell people what the suits were capable of, and she died with no one believing her.”

Another call failed. “She always had you. But she never said the solution was selling sensitive information to the enemy.”

The words felt like a slap to Stanley’s face. “Do you actually think I’d be able to do something like that?”

“I have no idea, Stan. I don’t know you, and it’s not for lack of trying. Every time I tried to keep you involved in my life, you didn’t show up.”

Stanley chuckled sadly. “The world is falling apart, and you still want to give me a guilt trip about skipping Thanksgiving.”

Another call failed to go through. Will put the phone away and got closer to Stanley, lowering his voice to a growl. “First of all, it wasn’t just Thanksgiving, it was every goddamn thing I ever invited you to, including the birth of my son. You know, your nephew, who looks up to you despite otherwise being a really bright kid?”

Stanley blinked. “I know that.”

Will took a step back. “And second, stop saying that. Nothing is falling apart.”

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D.C. was falling apart.

Tanya had laid in bed for hours watching the emergency lights dance across Will’s side of the bed. Sirens went off in the distance every hour at first, then every half hour. Soon they became a constant noise- the undertone of the night. At some point she gave up on sleep altogether and sat on the couch, reading updates on the laptop. The news sites all contradicted one another. Some blamed the outbreaks of violence on the Red Flu virus. Others claimed the very idea was impossible. The only thing they agreed on was that everyone should stay home.

Social media became a nightmare mix of one person making wild claims about an attack and a hundred more either arguing about it or making an even wilder one. Disinformation spread as quickly as any virus could.

It had been an ugly night, but it was nothing compared to the morning. Some neighbors were loading up their cars, others sealed up their windows with garbage bags and duct tape. No one seemed to know what to do, and the government—men and women just a few miles away—weren’t much help. A few fights broke out between neighbors, some of them men who had been friends for years.

“This is like the best movie I’ve ever watched,” Ryan said from the window.

“Get away from there,” Tanya scolded him.

“Why?”

“Because. Someone could see you.” Tanya tried Will’s phone again. She’d called him more times than she could count, but the calls wouldn’t go through. Even text messages were coming back as undeliverable. The phone systems were overloaded worse than New Year’s Eve at midnight.

A loud boom shook the house. It sounded like a transformer had blown close-by. The power flickered for a few seconds, but everything stayed on.

“I think I saw sparks over that house,” Ryan said excitedly, pointing out the window.

“Hey, what did I say about being at the window?”

Ryan turned to her and clucked his tongue. “No one’s going to see me,” he said. As he did, Tanya saw something pass behind him in the street.

“What was that?” she asked.

“What?” Ryan turned back to the window. “What did I miss?”

Tanya joined him at the window. “It went too fast to get a good look, but it looked like …” She trailed off, thinking about the things she’d read on the computer. People had mentioned everything from zombies to vampires to unholy demons. Which was ridiculous, and more at home in the movies Ryan watched than in real life. Now her son was trying to pry the details of what she’s seen from her, but she barely heard him.

She was watching the scene unfold across the street.

Arlene Johnson came stumbling out of her house in her bra and panties. She had what looked like red paint splattered on her face, except Tanya knew it wasn’t paint. In her right hand, she clutched a fire poker dripping with the same stuff. As she got onto her front lawn, someone appeared at the open door behind her.

It was Victor, her doting husband. Except his face was all wrong. The mouth was too wide, the eyes too red. Red spots dotted his white undershirt.

“Don’t look,” Tanya told Ryan. Her voice sounded like it came from a million miles away.

“I’ve seen women in bras before, mom,” he protested, transfixed on Mrs. Johnson’s half-naked body.

“That’s not what I mean.” Across the street, Arlene turned to face her husband as he lurched onto their porch. In the sunlight, Tanya and Ryan could see now the entire left side of his face was crushed in. He didn’t even seem to notice as he continued to move toward his wife, licking his lips.

She screamed for him to stay back and began swinging the fire poker wildly. He still kept moving toward her, though he kept a little distance. He showed only the simplest of self-preservation, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from coming at her. Given enough time, he was going to win the stand-off.

Another figure appeared from the right. It was a young girl, running full-speed across the street toward the Johnsons. She closed the distance in seconds. Tanya could only recognize little Mary Lang from next door by the bloodied pajamas she wore.

As Arlene took one more swing at her deranged husband, Mary jumped on her back and bit down on her shoulder. Victor rushed forward and joined her, and the two of them took a screaming Arlene down to the grass, tearing her to shreds.

Ryan slowly drew the curtains, blocking out their view of the horror. “I think it’s time for us to hide,” he said quietly, finally stepping away from the window.

Tanya had to think for a second. “The basement.”

“Basement sounds good.”

The two moved around the house together, double-checking every door. They moved without making a sound and pulled the curtains slowly to not draw any attention. Everything about it was utterly surreal. Tanya grabbed two flashlights from under the kitchen sink and then they headed down into the basement, closing the door behind them.

Ryan locked it. “Always lock the door,” he said, like he was reciting it from a movie.

The basement suddenly felt very different from before, something between a castle and a coffin. It had to serve as their stronghold, yet there was the genuine possibility they could die down there.

Tanya thought about how long they might have to stay there until things calmed down upstairs. There were a few shelves of food storage next to the washer-dryer, and along the right wall was a small window that sat at ground level. She wedged an old blanket she’d been meaning to repair into the window frame to keep anyone from looking in. It was a weak point, but also an escape route if needed.

She wanted to try Will again. She fished her phone out of her pocket, already knowing the call wouldn’t go through, but needing to try anyway.

The phone rang in her hand. Her heart leapt, and a small cry left her. She picked up the call without checking the screen, knowing the connection might only last a few seconds.

“Will?”

“Tanya. It’s Sam.”

Senator Jensen. He sounded worried, scared even. He was normally so even-toned and composed, it was bizarre to hear that kind of emotion in his voice. For Tanya, it hammered home how bad things really were.

“Sam, what’s going on out there?”

“There’s no time to talk. You need to get out of D.C.”

Tanya blinked. “What? What do you mean? On the news they said to stay indoors.”

“They’re evacuating us. The Army is here now. Maggie already-”

Sam’s voice cut out.

“Sam? Sam?” She checked the screen. The call had been lost.

She looked over at Ryan, screams echoing through the streets of their crumbling neighborhood.

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