Tainted Reality (The Rememdium Series Book 2)

Cover and Interior book design by One of a Kind Covers

TAINTED REALITY

Copyright © by Ashley Fontainne 2016

License Notes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by RMSW Press, LLC

ISBN 13: 978-0692642399

ISBN 10: 0692642390

PARALYZED - Saturday - December 20
^th
– 10:15 a.m.

Everett sat on the cold chair in the lab while staring at all the dusty, ruined equipment. Though he’d been to the facility twice to clean up since Daryl Riverside kidnapped him after killing the rest of the staff and test subjects, the area was still messy. Riverside had destroyed all the computers, leaving piles of crushed plastic and metal innards strewn across the room. Everett breathed a sigh of relief when he did an inventory and discovered the only items Daryl ruined were the computers. With no human inhabitants to care for what was left of the workspace on a daily basis, mounds of dust had accumulated on all the shiny metal and glass surfaces.

Even though Dirk Kincanon and the others had removed the bodies of Dr. Thomas and Dr. Flint, along with the twenty-five former addicts, the entire underground haven retained the rancid odor of death. The worst of the stench emanated from the lab. Dirk had been preoccupied with burying the twenty-seven innocents murdered in a secluded spot near the cave and had neglected the lab. When Everett returned to the facility for the first time three months after the nightmare in Laredo, he’d been greeted by carnage. Rows and rows of cages housing hundreds of mice for testing were full of rank, rotting little corpses.

The stench had faded over time, yet traces of it remained embedded in every crevice of the workspace. When the small group arrived earlier and the doors were unlocked, the smell nearly made Everett puke.

He was exhausted. Mentally and physically spent, no reserves left to get up and find a pen or figure out what to do next. Everett’s mind was awash in a buzz of white nothingness. Everything around him was familiar yet seemed out of place. Vials, beakers, syringes, cages, computers, all of it. He felt just like he did as a prepubescent boy. One who’d spent countless hours looking at his father’s stash of porn, and then actually seeing his first naked girl. The sensation of not having a clue what to do next left Everett dazed and confused.

The nightmare of the fact dead people walked around eating the living made Everett feel like he was the star of a colossal horror movie.

“Dr. Berning?”

Without raising his head, Everett answered, “Yes?”

Dirk walked across the room and sat on a stool on the other side of the counter. “Have you eaten or drank anything yet?”

“No.”

“I figured. Here,” Dirk said, sliding over a bottle of water and a protein bar.

“I’m afraid you’d be wasting precious supplies, Dirk. I’d just throw it up. My body’s reaction to the unreal chain of events won’t be pretty. Old man’s stomach, you know.”

“If you don’t eat you’ll pass out. I’m the only one here qualified to start an IV and believe me, that’s not saying much. Haven’t done it in years. I’m rusty, so it would be a painful experience.”

Everett blew out his breath as he grabbed the bottle and bar. He took two small sips and one little bite. “There. Happy?”

Dirk’s lips curved into a snide grin. “First thing that’s made me smile all day.”

Everett looked over at Dirk, noting the worry and stress in the man’s dark eyes. “Huh. Guess we won’t take even the smallest of things for granted anymore, right?”

Dirk leaned across the counter and picked up an empty vial. He rolled it around with his fingers, studying it with mild curiosity. “Nope. Now, stop moping around and tell me what you need from me.”

“And us.”

Everett and Dirk both turned at the sound of Kevin Warton’s voice. The former soldier stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed and hands clasped in front of a slender waist. Everett could see the rest of the men were behind him.

“I…I don’t even know where to start. All this is just too unreal to even grasp at the moment,” Everett whispered. “I’m at a loss as to what to do next. My mind is in total gridlock. Too much activity in my neurons has rendered me useless.”

“Getting the lab cleaned up and ready to use seems like a good place to start,” Kevin said. In seconds, the lab was full of six men, all of them staring at Everett and waiting for instructions.

“Excellent idea. This place stinks,” Thomas Porterfield added, “I hate the smell of death.”

“If we don’t want to keep smelling it above ground then we need to get going. We’ve got faith in you, Doc. None of us would have signed up for this gig if we didn’t,” Kevin offered.

The comment snapped Everett out of his funk. He pulled his gaze up from the dusty table and stared into the eyes of Kevin Warton. “Your loyalty was sorely misplaced, Mr. Warton. As I told Mr. Kincanon earlier, my contribution to mankind was to wipe out addiction. That’s been accomplished, but it certainly doesn’t matter now. The world has been hit—no, invaded—with some sort of biological contagion never seen or heard of before. I can’t fix this. We can’t fix this. It’s over, don’t you get that?”

Thomas moved closer, his bright green eyes full of anger. He stopped less than five feet from Everett and glared down. Everett felt the familiar, childhood fear of a burly bully ready to pounce on him. “Pull yourself together, man! Fall apart later, after you figure out what sort of bug we’re dealing with! At the very least, we need to know how it’s transmitted and how to protect ourselves from getting infected!”

“Thomas—please. Anger isn’t going to help, either. Dr. Berning? I know you’re upset—we all are. But, we’re safe here. No one knows the location and the doors are secured. No one will get in here unless we let them in. We have plenty of food and supplies to last for a year—longer if we ration wisely. Treat this nightmare as your degree thesis. Figure out what in the hell we are dealing with first, and then formulate a counterattack. You’ll be graded on your success.”

Everett tried to stop the anger from seeping into his voice. It didn’t work. He focused his attention to Dirk and yelled, “We…we left those people out there and didn’t even check on them! What if they survived the crash and needed our help?”

Kevin started to speak, but Dirk motioned for him to remain silent. “Trust me, they didn’t make it. They came in too fast and no one ejected before the jet slammed into the ground.”

“You can’t possibly know for sure! If I recall correctly, you were on top of me, plus the cloud cover blocked any visibility. What if one of them did? We condemned them to death without even batting an eye!”

“Dr. Berning, I realize you have no combat experience, but we all do. No one could have lived after crashing at such a high rate of speed. With all the shit going on at the moment, that’s what you’re worried about?”

Everett stood and paced the floors. “Yes! It took us what—less than two hours—to turn into selfish creatures? Ones unwilling to help save lives? We just walked away so we could save our own asses, and now all of you are looking for me to save the remainder of the human race? Hypocrisy at its finest! You’re all government grunts for sure!”

“I don’t recall seeing you turn around and run to their aid, Dr. Berning,” Thomas interrupted. “Nor do I remember hearing you ask any of us to render assistance. Congratulations, Doc. You just discovered you’re as human as the rest of us, and when it comes down to brass tacks, you save your own ass first.”

In a fit of rage, Everett grabbed the closest beaker and threw it against the wall. “You’re right, Mr. Porterfield. I’m a selfish bastard. Which is why I won’t do a fucking thing to solve this—not because I don’t want to—but because I simply can’t.”

The room fell silent after Everett’s tirade. Without looking at any of them, he stormed out of the lab and limped toward his old room. Terror, fury, and shame jockeyed for control of his mind.

By the time he reached the door to his room, terror took control. Everett succumbed to the fear and collapsed onto the old cot, body quaking as the magnitude of the situation swept through his mind.

He sobbed, wishing Dr. Flint and Dr. Thomas were still alive, because he had no clue what to do in this strange, new reality.

LIBERATING THE SCHOOL - Saturday - December 20
^th
– 10:15 a.m.

Walt Addison glanced in the mirror just in time to see Martha’s Humvee take out two of the shuffling corpses in the parking lot. Blood and gore exploded over the hood and windshield as the vehicle bobbed after the tires mashed the bodies. The pulverized piles of flesh left behind were a mangled conglomeration of goo and torn clothing. Walt felt his stomach lurch when a small horde of the dead descended on their downed comrades.

Interesting. Well, now I know they aren’t picky eaters. Good information to hang on to for later.

Focusing back on the road in front of him, Walt gunned the engine. The tires squealed when he cranked the wheel to the right, turning onto Highway 270. An unmanned roadblock of several Humvees and barricades loomed in the distance. Walt squinted, searching for any signs of soldiers. Seeing none, he pushed his foot down harder on the pedal and blew through the wooden markers. Glancing in the side mirror, he saw Martha, Reed, Turner, and the others follow his lead.

While he drove, thoughts of what had happened during the last three hours threatened to push Walt over the edge. He’d been prepared for a variety of catastrophic events, including a biological attack. Curt Campbell’s vision of the end happened because of an electromagnetic pulse attack either from a foreign or domestic enemy. Lamar Wilson’s was global warming. Lamar’s basement was full of all sorts of charts, graphs, research reports and the like, all touting the immense damage created by millions of people living on Mother Earth. During monthly prepper meetings, Lamar would bend ears about environmental pollutants, dumping of toxic waste, and climate change, among other things.