Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Enough!” I finally bark, silencing the room. “We stay until first light. Search for Hank. Then make a decision based on what we find. That’s final.”
Red looks like he might argue further, but something in my expression stops him. Instead, he spits on the floor—a deliberate show of disrespect—and stalks up to the loft. I normally solve disrespect with my fists, but this time I let it pass.
After all, it is my fault we’re all here.
I shouldn’t have taken the money.
“You’re gonna get us all killed, McGraw,” Cole mutters before following him, seeming to pick up on what I’m feeling.
Eli remains, his boyish face grave in the firelight. “They’re scared. Can’t blame them, after what we saw.”
“I know,” I sigh, the weight of leadership heavy on my shoulders, leadership I never fucking asked for. “But I’m not leaving a man behind. Not without knowing.”
“What if we already know?” Eli whispers as he leans in, the question loaded with meaning. “What if it’s like last time?”
Last time.
Three years ago.
When I came up here with someone else who was searching for something and I barely escaped with my life.
“Get some rest,” I tell him, avoiding the question. “I’ll keep watch. From inside.”
Eli studies me for a long moment, then nods, heading up to the loft. Aubrey moves to the fire, adding another log. The flames leap higher, pushing back the darkness but not the fear that permeates the cabin.
“You’re not telling them everything,” she says once we’re alone. Not a question but a statement.
“No,” I admit, seeing no point in further deception. “I’m not.”
“Why?”
I take in a deep breath through my nose, before running my hands over my face, feeling exhaustion hit me. “Because the things I know, the things I’ve seen…they wouldn’t believe me. Because the truth is harder to accept than whatever theories they’ve come up with.”
She sits at the table, facing me directly. “Well, you haven’t tried me.”
For a long moment, I consider deflecting, offering the same vague warnings and half-truths I’ve been feeding her since we met. But looking at her now, determination hardening her delicate features, I realize she deserves better. Deserves the truth, as much as I understand it.
But how much of the truth, I’m not sure.
“Something lives in these mountains,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “Something that used to be human, a long time ago.”
“You’re talking about the legend,” she says. “About the transformation or whatever. Zombies.”
I nod, knowing how ridiculous it sounds, especially when you throw the term zombie in there. “As I said, the locals have stories, passed down through generations. About how some of the settlers changed after eating human flesh. Transformed. Became something…else. Yes, zombies if you will.”
“But that’s not possible,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Because…”
“There are examples. Rabies. Cordyceps. And what probably happened here, prion disease.”
“Like Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease? Mad cow?”
“Some say there’s a curse, and maybe that’s true,” I begin. “I would never discount the stories from the Indigenous peoples here. That would be unwise. They know better than any of us settlers. But I’ve been doing a lot of research. Based partly on the accounts of what my great-great-great-granddaddy Jake McGraw told the generations. What if when the Donner Party consumed the flesh of their dead companions they unknowingly exposed themselves to a rapidly mutating prion disease? Perhaps the pathogen was initially a rare variant of prions that spread through infected cattle and oxen, but in the isolated wilderness of the Sierra Nevada, it evolved into a much more insidious strain capable of crossing from animals to humans.”
Aubrey gnaws on her lower lip for a moment. “You know, with the way preventable diseases are being spread in this country, I wouldn’t be surprised. But still…people get sick from things. They don’t turn into zombies.”
“But what if they did?”
She lets out a low laugh, even though the humor doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I’d say we’re even more fucked than I thought.”
I nod. “Three years ago, I saw them,” I tell her, the memory sending ice through my veins. “Tracked them to a cave system out here, beyond Benson Hut, at Soda Springs. They were people. Pale, feral people. Too strong. Too fast. Eyes like blue fire. Teeth…”
I trail off, the image too vivid, too terrifying to fully describe.
“Feral people?” she repeats in disbelief, and I realize how fucking foolish I sound. “Don’t tell me you believe the lore about the ferals who live in the tunnels beneath the park systems. Those are just stories. Made up stories. I should know because…” she trails off, as if catching herself saying something she shouldn’t. Then she clears her throat and straightens up. “They don’t exist, I can tell you that much. If they did, it would be all over the news and law enforcement—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” I say, lifting a hand. “Law enforcement doesn’t do shit for the citizens and you know it. You know you know it. You said it yourself about Lainey. And she was white. Had she been Indigenous, Black, Hispanic, they never would have looked. Now I’m not saying the rumor of feral people living in tunnels across the country is true. That’s a Jordan Peele film and a weird one at that. But if it were true, the cops, the FBI, they wouldn’t do shit about it. People disappear all the fucking time.”