Strain of Resistance (Prequel): Grand Escape (2 page)

      "Why don't you try Dad's radio again, Ames," he suggested quietly. He felt her nodding against his chest.

      Their father had been an amateur ham radio operator in his spare time. Both Sam and Amy had spent countless hours playing in the attic and listening to their father talk to people from all over the world. Sam had forgotten about the radio, but after moving into the attic the sight of it had raised their hopes, if only for a brief moment. So far they had been met with nothing but silence. They had listened for hours at first, but the battery was running low and Sam only let Amy turn it on for a few minutes at a time. But even those few moments of nothingness kept her spark of hope alive, so he never said anything. Once the power died completely however, he was scared of how it would affect his sister's well-being.

 
     She pulled away from him, still sniffling and flicked the power switch. The radio squawked to life with static. Amy focused her attention on the rotating knob, slowly going through the frequencies just like Sam had taught her. Glad her attention was not on him at the moment, he covered his face with his hands and breathed deeply into them as he tried to get himself under control.

      As careful as they had been, someone now knew they were here. Which also meant their home wasn't safe for them anymore. But what could they do? Where could they go? For about the millionth time Sam found himself wondering why the hell their father wasn’t here to take care of them. Why hadn’t he found his way back already? He could feel that familiar pressure building in his chest as the sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelm him, once again. He was only fourteen, for crying out loud. He didn't know what to do!

      "Sammy!" Amy cried urgently and Sam's eyes popped open in fear.

      "What? What's wrong?"

      She pointed to the radio with a trembling hand.

      "I think I heard someone. Listen."

      She turned the knob slowly and a garbled voice crackled to life.

      Sam nearly bowled her over as he fell on his knees in front of the radio. He turned up the volume and tried to tune in the frequency better.

      "…for anyone out there. My name is Roy Harding. We’ve set up base in the Grand Hotel on Leclaire Boulevard. We offer safety for any survivors out there. Again, the Grand Hotel on Leclaire Boulevard. This message is for anyone left alive out there. The Grand is a safe haven."

      Sam and Amy stared at each other in stupefied amazement. Then Amy screeched shrilly, "Say something, Sammy!"

      "Right." Sam fumbled with the mic, nearly dropping it in his excitement.

      "Hello," he yelled. "Can you hear me?"

      His plea was met with dead air. Impatiently, he clicked the button on the side of the mic. Was he doing it right? Why hadn't he paid more attention when his father insisted on teaching him this stuff?

      "Hello. Can you hear me?"

      He waited with bated breath. Then, like a voice from the heavens, "Yes, I hear you. Who is this?"

      Sam's eyes closed tight as he fought against the tears of relief that threatened to spill out. They were not alone. Shakily he responded.

      "Sam McKinley. We're stuck in our house... me and my sister. We don't know what to do. Please help us!"

      "How old are you, Sam?" The voice was kind and filled with compassion. It nearly did him in. He had difficulty swallowing the lump in his throat.

      "Fourteen. My sister is twelve. Our dad never came home and…" he trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Fortunately, the voice did not care.

      "What's your address, Sam? We will come—"

      The voice broke off abruptly as the power button on the radio winked out. Sam stared at the dead radio in disbelief.

      "Hello?" he yelled into the mic, refusing to believe what just happened. "Hello? Are you still there?"

      His pleas were in vain. There was no answer.

      "NO!" he screamed in frustration, banging the now useless mic on top of the radio. Just as quickly as the anger came though, it was gone again and he dropped the mic in defeat, breathing heavily from his exertion and disappointment.

    Silence dragged on for a few minutes before Amy quietly asked, "What are we going to do, Sammy? He sounded real nice and you never got a chance to tell him where we are. He can't come get us. What are we going to do?"

      Taking a deep breath, Sam made a decision. He raised his determined gray eyes to his sister.

     "We're going to go to him."

                                                            ***

      It didn't take them long to gather their few supplies and cram them into their old school backpacks they had found in the trunk. Now that the decision had been made, Sam was eager to get on the road. He knew the general direction they should be traveling. The Grand Hotel was not that far, maybe a day’s worth of walking. All they had to do was to stay out of sight from the freaks and the crazies. Easy, right?

    With a broken blue crayon he’d found on the floor, he scrawled a message on the attic wall for their father. When their father finally did make it home, he would need to know where they’d gone.

      Listening for a few minutes at the hatch, Sam heard nothing out of the ordinary. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the chest aside and opened the door. The foul stench of rotting food and the backed-up sewer hit them like a slap to the face as soon as they hit the floor, and they both retched. Sam’s first instinct was to run for the door since the last thing he wanted to do was linger in the stench, but he had one more thing to do before they left.

    Passing by the busted-out patio door, he headed for the fireplace and picked up the iron poker hanging on the rack. Wasn't much of a weapon, but since his father was never a believer in owning a weapon of any kind; the poker would have to do. Handing it to Amy, he instructed her, "Stay here," while he headed to his old bedroom. The solid Louisville Slugger standing in the corner was his target. Grabbing it, he tossed it about in his hands for a bit as he looked sadly around the familiar room. A huge sigh escaped him, the only sign of the overwhelming sense of loss he was feeling at the moment. But he knew they had no other choice but to go.

      Amy was still standing right where he left her.

       "Let’s go, Ames," he said, pulling his backpack over his shoulder, but Amy didn’t move. Sam stopped in his tracks, as the look of terror on his sister’s face sent ice shards flowing through his veins. He followed her stare to the patio door, spotting the creature hovering outside the gaping hole. The pink housecoat and kitten slippers indicated that it may have once been their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bailey. The blood-splattered clothing and torn flesh of her face however, told them this was no longer the kindly old lady they once knew. Her head swiveled, nose in the air like some hound dog trying to locate a scent.

      Sam's mouth went bone dry. The urge to grab Amy and run was overridden by his terror, rooting him in place as the head turned unnaturally their way. The worm-like thing erupted from the old lady’s mouth- an indication it had found what it was looking for.

      "Sammy!" Amy cried pitifully as the creature barreled through the broken glass. Sharp shards ripped away more of its skin, but it didn’t seem to care. It had picked up Amy's scent and was intent on only one thing. Wet, gurgling sounds hit Sam's ears, drowned out by his sister's piercing scream. The scream broke him out of his paralysis and he moved without thinking. Jumping between the creature and his sister, he swung the bat with every ounce of his strength at the flapping tentacle. The wood connected with the old lady’s jaw with a sickening
thunk
. She flew backward through the air, flipping over the coffee table and landing in a heap on the living room floor. Sam didn't give it time to get back up. Lunging at the downed creature, he started swinging with the bat. Again and again at the creature's head, until it pulverized into a crimson mush. Hot blood splattered his neck, his cheek, making him gag. But still he kept swinging.

    "Sammy... Sam, stop!" Amy yelled, grabbing his arm and stilling the next swing. He stared at her, dazed for a bit, unsure of what just happened. A high-pitched keening reached his ears and it took a moment for him to realize the sound was coming from him! Amy pried the bat out of his stiff fingers, dropping it like a hot poker and held his face tightly in her hands.

      "Sammy, stop it! Stop it! You're scaring me!" she said, sobbing loudly. He was scaring her to death and couldn’t help it. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he finally stopped his wailing. Still shaking uncontrollably, he grabbed the hands cupping his face and rested his forehead against hers.

       "I'm okay, Ames. I'm okay. I'm okay." Eyes closed, heads together, they stood like that for a bit. Taking comfort from each other’s touch. Finally, his breathing slowed and his trembling stopped.

    "We should probably go now,” he whispered. He felt her nod in agreement. They needed to move before any more creatures stumbled their way or those people from this morning came back. They needed to get to the safety of the Grand Hotel.

      With his stomach rolling in revulsion, Sam retrieved the bloody bat from the living room floor. He wiped it clean on the couch and slung it over his shoulder like he was about to step up to the plate. But this was no ballgame. This was an out-and-out fight for their survival. He knew he needed to keep the bat handy because he would undoubtedly need it again. It was a full day’s walk between them and the Grand. They would probably come across more of those creatures. He just hoped he could somehow keep them both alive.

   With his other hand, he reached for Amy. Gripping her small hand tight, brother and sister walked determinedly to the front door and took the first step towards their unknown destiny. Together.

###

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If you want to learn more about Sam and Amy’s story, please check out the full length novel

Strain of Resistance
coming February 2016

About the Author

Michelle Bryan lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband, son and two crazy felines. Besides her family her other passions in life consist of chocolate, coffee and writing. When she’s not busy being a chocolate store manager or spending the day at her computer, she can be found with her nose stuck in any sort of apocalypse book. Please visit her on Facebook, Goodreads, and Amazon or follow her on Twitter @michellebry101. She would love to hear from her readers, so feel free to leave comments or ask questions.