Dead to the World: A Pandora Novel Read online

  Copyright 2016 Richard McCrohan

  The characters and locations in this novel are fictitious, and all similarities to anyone living or dead are strictly a coincidence.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1522982787

  ISBN 13: 9781522982784

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016900036

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  To Linda—here we go again.

  Contents

  INTRODUCTION

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  BIOGRAPHY

  INTRODUCTION

  Hello, and thank you for entering the forbidding world of Pandora with me. This is the third novel in the series. Although this is a stand-alone novel, it actually expands on my first two books, Pandora and Pandora 2. Dead to the World has a whole new cast of characters and location. It depicts the terror of the zombie apocalypse as experienced by different people fighting for their lives and their families’ lives in a world gone mad. By reading the first two books before this, you will have a broader view of the Pandora virus. If you’re a returning reader, then you well know, a worldwide zombie apocalypse is not a place to tread lightly. Anything can and often will happen.

  In Pandora, my first novel, we’re introduced to the very beginning of the alien virus and the subsequent mutation. Following a band of friends, we see how quickly the zombies gain control and the dangers of traveling in such a world. Continuing in the sequel, Pandora 2, I try to bring in the dangers of not only zombies but dealing with humankind in its best and worst permutations.

  Now, in Dead to the World, I attempt to show a slightly different story. Using the exploits of a new group of survivors—people whose job it is to protect us from harm—I delve deep into the emotions of what it would be like to be a survivor and to feel the horror and bear the loss of those who don’t make it. In the end, a novel must be entertaining, and I sincerely hope that I have achieved that. If Dead to the World makes you cry, chuckle, or mostly sit on the edge of your chair with tension, then I have succeeded. I hope you enjoy the trip. It’s going to be a hell of a ride.

  1

  Joanna Weston woke up and jumped out of bed. She quickly reached over to the bed next to hers and shook her twin sister, Janet, awake.

  “Come on, lazybones,” Joanna said in an excited voice. “It’s Saturday morning. We have to go and get the gym ready for the dance tonight. Now get up.”

  Janet stirred, moaning and mumbling. Joanna was already half-dressed and heading toward the bathroom. Swinging her long legs over the side of the bed, Janet pushed herself up to a sitting position. Finally opening her pretty, green eyes, she started to rise, then quickly sat back down on the bed. Her head was spinning.

  Whoa, she thought. What was that?

  Janet closed her eyes, and soon the dizziness subsided. Opening them again, she was able to stand and start getting dressed. She, Joanna, and their mother, Barbara, had been out of the hospital for only four weeks. They all had come down with the Pandora virus and had been so ill that they required hospitalization. Practically every single person in the world who contracted the virus wound up in the hospital. Although it had been pretty scary when the Pandora comet hit Mars and that huge dust-and-debris cloud entered Earth’s atmosphere, it turned out to be nothing—well, except for the virus that it had brought to Earth. That sucked. It was the like flu, only worse. So many people had been waiting to be admitted at Parkview Hospital that the whole family had to wait hours just to be seen. Janet and Joanna’s father, Jim, hadn’t been affected, but because he drove them, he’d been stuck there, too. Man, that whole night was a bummer. Janet heard that in the big cities it was a thousand times worse. People were stacked in the hallways. Gross. But after a week or two, everyone got better. It put a huge crimp in their social life, but everything was back to normal now. Joanna had said that she heard of other parts of the world starting to have some kind of a relapse problem or something. But truthfully, Janet didn’t give a shit what happened in Europe or Asia—or anywhere else, for that matter. If it doesn’t affect me, then so what? All she really cared about was this spring dance that Colby High School was having tonight. Now, that was important.

  As Janet bent over to grab her shoes, her stomach did a flip-flop. Standing back up, she thought, I hope this isn’t a relapse. I can’t afford to get sick again. She was meeting her boyfriend, Curtis, at the dance tonight. Joanna was going with her guy, Kenny. A half hour later, both girls were walking into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Mom,” Joanna said, seeing her mother standing at the sink.

  Janet walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “We’re not having breakfast. We have to go and decorate the gym for the dance tonight. Jo and I are on the committee, remember?”

  When Barbara Weston turned around, both girls took an involuntary step back.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Janet asked.

  Barbara looked awful. She was ghostly pale, and her eyes looked bloodshot and sunken in. Looking at her two beautiful twin daughters, she gave them a wavering smile.

  “I’m just a little under the weather today. That’s all. You two go and have fun. I’ll be fine.”

  “Where’s Dad?” asked Joanna. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

  “No, no, don’t worry,” her mother said. “Dad’s in the garage fixing the lawn mower. Now that the snow’s gone and it’s spring, he wants to get it ready to go.”

  “Are you sure?” Joanna asked.

  “Yes. Go, go,” her mother said weakly, shooing them off.

  Both girls warily gave their mother a good-bye kiss and hurried out the door. They lived only four blocks from the high school, and it was a nice, cool day. So, they decided to walk.

  “Mom looks horrible,” Joanna said.

  “I know,” said Janet. “To tell the truth, I don’t feel so good, either. My stomach hurts, and I have a splitting headache. I’d better be all right tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, you will,” her sister said. “You know, it’s funny…I have a headache, too. Probably stress.”

  Barbara Weston watched as her two daughters walked on down the street. She couldn’t help but smile. They were so great—really good kids and best friends, too. Hearing her husband in the garage, she started to turn toward the freestanding structure. Suddenly, her smile faltered. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she grimaced as a wave of pain streaked through her body. She doubled over as her stomach twisted into knots. Her head hurt so much that she could hardly see. Stumbling half-blinded, she staggered over to the kitchen sink and, gripping the counter with white knuckles, bent over and vomited into the metal basin. She stood like that, her eyes screwed shut and her stomach heaving, for what seemed like forever.

  When Barbara finally stopped and she opened her eyes again, she staggered back, gasping. The kitchen sink was filled with blood and pieces of what looked like stomach lining.

  “Oh my God,” she said in a choked voice.

  Stumbling toward the door, she managed to cry out weakly. “Jim. Jim. Help me.”

  She had just reached the side door when she bent over and vomited again. Shakily pulling herself up on the door frame, she caught a glimpse of herself in the door’s glass. She was horrified. Her eyes were sunken into her head. As she
stared at her pale reflection, she saw that her eyes were almost milky. Looking past her reflection, she saw Jim still working in the garage.

  Barbara tried to stand. My God, she thought. I can’t believe it’s really me. I look like a zombie. A moment later, she stumbled backward and fell flat on her back. The back of her head bounced off the tile floor, but she didn’t feel it. She was already dead.

  An hour later, Jim Weston came inside the kitchen for some water. He slid in the blood on the floor and stumbled, catching himself on the kitchen counter.

  “Barb?” he said. “Barb? Where are you? What happened?”

  As he walked out of the kitchen, he ran into Barbara walking in. Taken aback for a second, he grabbed his wife and gave her a big hug. Turning his head to the side, he kissed her on the shoulder.

  “Barb,” he said, relieved. “What happened in here?”

  Barbara opened her mouth wide. Darting her head forward, she clasped her teeth on Jim’s neck and ripped it open.

  2

  Asia was hit first, then Europe. Incredulous and, at times, unbelieving news reports flooded the airways with horrifying stories and videos. Some countries actually shut down all outside communications.

  Now it was America’s turn. Almost one-third of the population had contracted the initial Pandora virus, and now that very same one-third was starting to succumb to the Pandora 2 Mutation. What had just happened to the Weston family in the heart of Middle America was starting throughout the rest of the country. The zombie apocalypse was now worldwide.

  3

  The duty sergeant looked out over the familiar faces seated in the Colby Police Station briefing room. Sgt. Frank Finley glanced down at the several papers he kept repeatedly shuffling in his hands.

  “All right, people, settle down,” he said. “I know you’ve been watching the news last night and probably this morning, too. You know what’s been happening overseas. There have been a lot of stories flying about—people going crazy and attacking one another, people eating other people, even stories about victims turning into zombies.”

  There was some nervous laughter among the officers.

  “Yeah, I know,” Sgt. Finley said. “It sounds nuts to me, too. Obviously something’s going on. Something strange. And it definitely has to do with the Pandora virus.” He picked one paper off the small pile he had in front of him. “We just got this in from the Department of Homeland Security. It seems that the CDC in Atlanta has already gotten notice of a few outbreaks of whatever this is on the East Coast already. Boston, New York, and Miami have reported cases coming into their hospitals. Homeland Security, the CDC, and the FBI are working with all the hospitals across the nation to obtain lists of patients who were previously infected with the Pandora virus. These lists will be sent to the individual, local police departments who, in turn, will organize a pickup and quarantine of all previously infected people.”

  The men and women listening all started talking at once, not believing what they were hearing.

  Speaking very loudly over the crowd, Sgt. Finley continued. “They will be housed in the high school gymnasium until the CDC informs us otherwise.”

  “Are you kidding, Sarge?” asked Officer Troy Miller. “We’re not the Gestapo.”

  “Yeah, Sarge,” said Officer Charlie Potts.

  “Why are we doing this?” asked Officer Allison Taylor.

  Putting his hands up for quiet, which he immediately obtained, Sgt. Finley responded. “The government scientists say the only people who have come down with this have been previous Pandora victims. No one else. But they can spread it. This is some sort of a mutation of the first virus and is highly contagious and one hundred percent fatal.”

  He could hear a pin drop in the room. He looked into the eyes of every single officer. “This collection and quarantine will be augmented by a part of the National Guard and start at 0600 hours tomorrow. Every officer from today on will be on continuous duty. Any vacation days or time offs are canceled.”

  Sgt. Finley put the papers down and continued in a soft voice. “Listen, there may be some very strange and unusual situations happening here today. I want you to use your judgment out there. I’m not sure what to expect today, but I want you all to stay safe.

  “All right, Miller and Minarski, you’re sectors one and two. Banner and Taylor, you’re downtown east. Fisk and Tanner, you’re downtown west. O’Brian and Hamlin, you’re sectors two and four. And finally, Mason and Potts, I want you at the hospital. Nillson and Farkas, desk duty today. Okay, dismissed. And again, stay safe.”

  As they made their way out, Officer Troy Miller stopped at Sgt. Finley’s desk. “Sarge, what about Zimmerman and Finelli? I see they didn’t show up for muster this morning.”

  “Yeah, I know, Miller. Zimmerman called out earlier, and, as you know, they both had Pandora. Lt. Reams is going over to check on them. I’m sure they’re okay.”

  Every officer grabbed his or her gear on the way out to the parking lot. As they were getting into their assigned cars, Officer Potts smiled and yelled over to Officer Miller.

  “Hey, Miller! Don’t forget to bring a stake in case we see any zombies.”

  “A stake?” Officer Miller laughed. “You idiot. That’s for vampires. One shot in the head will do it. You should watch more horror movies.”

  Already in the car, Officer Potts opened the window. “Nah! The porn takes up all of my time. Ha-ha.”

  Getting in and starting up their squad cars, the officers pulled out of the lot. The five cars then separated and headed to their assigned patrol areas. As soon as the lot emptied, the voice of Patricia Milliard, the dispatcher, came over the radio.

  “Car nine, come in.”

  Officer Pete Minarski picked up the mic and answered. “Dispatch, car nine.”

  “Car nine, proceed to Fifty-Four Spruce Street. Owner reports a ten-sixteen. Over.”

  “Okay dispatch. Heading there now.”

  Hanging up the mic, he looked at his partner, Officer Troy Miller. “Looks like a prowler. Starting early.”

  Responding to the call at the other end of town, Officers Miller and Minarski rolled up in front of a large, white colonial located in the better residential section of town. After they stepped out of the squad car, Officer Miller proceeded up the front walk as Officer Minarski took the driveway toward the rear of the house. As Officer Miller stepped up to the front door, it opened. An elderly woman appeared before him.

  “Officer,” she said. “I saw a man walking down the side of my house. He went into my backyard and stood there for a while.”

  “Can you describe him?” Officer Miller took out his notebook.

  “Yes, I can, Officer. He was tall and white—”

  “Caucasian.”

  “No…I mean, yes,” the elderly woman said, stammering. “He was Caucasian, but his skin was white. I mean, really white. Like an albino. And he must be homeless, because his clothes were all wet and dirty. Stained. Like he spilled stuff all over himself. Not at all the type of person you would see around here. Maybe in Skunk Hollow.”

  The woman was talking about the other end of town. The name Skunk Hollow had been bestowed on it a hundred years ago, when it was undeveloped and consisted of the woods with a few scattered farms. The Minnusky River ran a half mile past that. The river always overflowed and flooded the areas near Skunk Hollow, so over the years there hadn’t been much new development there. Frankly, the marshland smelled. Now it consisted of lower-income housing, warehouses, and trailer parks.

  The officers searched her backyard and even the two neighbors’ yards. There was no sign of a tall, disheveled man anywhere. After telling the woman to call if she saw him again, they reentered the squad car and resumed their patrol.

  “You see the news last night?” Troy asked his partner.

  “Watched nothing but,” answered Pete. “You see that film they shot in France? The one with the body on the slab?” When his partner nodded, he resumed. “I couldn’t believe it.
Do you think that guy was really dead? I mean, really dead?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, Pete,” “Troy said, shaking his head, amazed. “He sure looked dead to me.”

  “Yeah, but he got back up. He got back up and came after them. After he was dead. You that know what that means?”

  “What it means, Pete, is that they were either too rushed to do a proper check on the body or that he became a zombie. Personally, my money’s on them screwing up the death verdict.”

  Pete shook his head. “But the guy was a doctor.”

  “What,” Troy asked, glancing at his partner, “doctors don’t make mistakes?”

  “Yeah, I know, but—”

  “Look,” said Troy, dividing his concentration between his driving and his partner. “I’ll admit that some really strange shit is happening over there. I don’t know what it is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of mass hysteria. Not zombies. You know, this Pandora virus—”