Zombiemandias (Book 1): In the Lone and Level Sands Read online

  In the Lone and Level Sands

  David Lovato and Seth Thomas

  Published by David Lovato at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2013 David Lovato

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  Also by David Lovato, published at Smashwords:

  Hole

  Dark Things

  Six and Seven

  After the Bite

  Also by Seth Thomas, published at Smashwords:

  The Morning Light

  After Death

  Table of Contents

  The Man in the Cell

  Part One: Before the Storm

  The Hex

  Part Two: The Beginning of the End

  Screams in the Night

  Part Three: In the Middle of Hell

  Torrential Downpour

  Part Four: Counter-Clockwise

  A Dead Man’s Thoughts

  Part Five: Anno Letum

  Life After Death

  Afterword

  About the Authors

  Copyright Info

  The Man in the Cell

  What ideal working conditions, Norman thought.

  His hands were bound by chains which ran to either side of the room, connecting to the wall. His legs were in a custom straight jacket that kept them from crossing. The few who believed the charges against him thought it would prevent him from using his skill. They were wrong.

  At first he was upset that he’d been caught, but he had thought on it and decided that a prison cell was the perfect place. He was left alone, and while he was cleaned and fed by other people, no one spoke to him. He could devote all of his time and energy to reaching into his mind, calling for the magic he had learned so long ago, building it up like a monument.

  Confessing to the murders was the best decision he had ever made.

  He could still remember the way the kids had screamed when their friends began eating each other. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to hear the screams this time.

  The kids in his basement had been one thing, the entire world was another. It had taken him years to learn how to tap into the great collective unconscious, but he had finally done it. Now it was simply a matter of afflicting all he could reach, turning them the way he’d turned the kids before. It would be as simple as flipping switches.

  Humanity had become a plague upon the earth, but it was not too late to save them, and he was almost ready to begin.

  Part One

  Before the Storm

  1

  At the Airport

  Maneuvering through the crowd was simpler than Layne had thought it would be. They were slow-moving, but their speed wasn’t the problem, it was all in their number. But he had come armed with a plan, so while most of the people in LAX were busy checking ticket stubs and overhead monitors and making sure that they had all of their belongings, Layne was already rolling. He still checked his ticket and a monitor here and there, but he did so quickly, never missing a beat.

  Despite all his planning, he somehow ended up at the wrong terminal. It was no huge error, but it made him nervous. He was as quick to make a plan as he was to get nervous, and within seconds he found a map and was soon making his way through a crowd of people to what he knew, for sure this time, was the correct terminal. Then he heard the overhead.

  “Flight 309 to Seattle is now boarding.”

  New plan again: Run for it.

  Two minutes later, he was being pressed against a wall by a security guard. Layne could feel the guard’s spit on his face as he shouted and twisted Layne’s arm around his back, which caused him to drop his luggage. The guard pulled out a radio and called for backup.

  Layne figured that someone looking remotely Arabic might not get away with running in an airport, but he was white as a ghost, and this was LAX. People ran to catch their flights all the time, didn’t they? He decided it must be the security guard having a bad day, then. As soon as the backup showed up, Layne was free to go, and then the spit was flying into the guard’s face, his boss angry with him for overreacting.

  Layne rushed to the nearest counter and slammed his ticket down.

  “I need to get on this plane,” he said. The man at the desk looked at the ticket, then at Layne.

  “So why are you here?” he said. “Take your ticket to the woman by the door.” Layne felt like a moron, and he grabbed his things and headed for the door. He was apparently not as late as he had thought. There were even a few people still in line. When it was Layne’s turn, he handed his ticket to the woman, who inserted it into a machine. A stub came out, and she handed it to him.

  “Enjoy your flight, sir,” she said with a smile. Layne thanked her, and then went down the small hallway and into the plane.

  He had hoped for a window seat, but his ticket had him placed in the aisle. He figured he’d bargain with someone if he could, and if not, he had headphones. This flight wasn’t going to be so bad.

  Layne got to his row and took his aisle seat. There was a young woman sitting at the window, staring out at the tarmac. Layne could tell that attempting to make a bargain was going to be more difficult than he had thought; the woman was very attractive, and he was quick to get nervous.

  “Do you fly often?” Layne said. The woman didn’t react at first, but then glanced over and realized that he was talking to her.

  “Yeah, actually,” she said with the grin that comes from wondering why someone you don’t know is talking to you, and “You don’t,” with a different kind of grin. “I saw you rushing to get on. And I saw you go to the wrong place to give them your ticket.”

  Layne laughed. “You got me. This is my first time.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  The overhead lights and sounds informed the passengers that the plane was about to take off and told them to fasten their seatbelts. Layne realized that there was probably not going to be anyone sitting between the two of them, which was quickly followed by the realization that he had completely forgotten why he had spoken to the woman to begin with.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” Layne asked. He patted the seat between them.

  “Go for it. It’s always good to have someone to talk to on a long flight.”

  Layne moved over and buckled his seatbelt. The engines came to life, and the roar made him nervous.

  “I can imagine so,” he said.

  “Hey, I’ve flown dozens of times, and I still get nervous. What brings you here, anyway? What makes someone who’s never flown before fly?”

  “Something very special,” Layne said.

  The woman smiled. “I’m Alex.”

  “Layne.”

  He looked around. The plane slowly moved forward. Layne’s leg was tapping viciously, and he was gripping the handle of his seat tightly.

  “I can’t believe I almost missed my first flight,” he said. Alex looked at him.

  “Then I guess this is your lucky day,” she said. He nodded as the plane sped up.

  2

  In the Morning

  The door creaked when Cynthia pushed it open and stepped inside the room. The bed lay at the far end, and Mal, a girl of ten years, slept under a pink blanket. Watching over h
er was a gigantic Hello Kitty poster. Cynthia walked over to the bed and nudged the sleeping girl.

  “Mallorie,” she said, “Mal.” She wiped a lock of golden hair out of her daughter’s face. Mal moved a little, but did not wake up. “Time to get up now.” Mal opened her eyes, sat up slowly, and yawned.

  “All right,” Mal said.

  “If you didn’t stay up listening to your CDs you wouldn’t be so tired in the morning.”

  “I was too excited to sleep!” Mal said. “But I’m kinda worried. I’ve practiced forever, but I’m still nervous.”

  “That’s natural, honey. You’ll do great. Actual ballets are performed at the Belmont Theater, it’ll be like you’re dancing professionally!”

  “Yeah, I know!” Mal said. Just like that, her fatigue was gone, replaced with excitement. “It’d be really awesome to be a professional ballerina when I’m older!”

  “Well if you work hard at it you can, but right now you’ve got summer school to worry about.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Mal gave a heavy sigh. Despite her desperate pleas, Cynthia had enrolled Mal in summer school a few weeks earlier. It was for Mal’s own good.

  Mal gathered some clothes from her dresser and left the room. When she was ready for school, Cynthia drove her there and then headed for work.

  Cynthia was a florist at Daisy’s Floral. She was lucky to have found a job that was also a hobby, as well as a boss who was also a friend. Though she enjoyed her work, she couldn’t keep her mind on it today. The recital took precedence. Her excitement grew as the hours went by.

  At a quarter to four, while Daisy Marden was cutting rose stems on the diagonal, the phone rang. She set down her shears and picked up the phone.

  “Daisy’s Floral. This is Daisy speaking.”

  “This is Gloria Swanson. The order I received is half dead! Do you expect me to give these flowers to my mother as is?”

  “Half dead… One moment, ma’am.” Daisy set the phone down and disappeared into the stock room for a few seconds, and soon returned. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Our delivery guy took the flowers from the refuse pile instead of the delivery stock.”

  “You should have made sure your delivery man knew what he was doing in the first place!”

  “Yes, I apologize. We can whip something nice up real fast, if you like. Got lots of—”

  “I want a refund!”

  “Okay, and I assure you, this will not happen next time.”

  “Oh, there won’t be a next time!”

  The woman hung up, and Daisy slammed the receiver down. “Can you believe people like that? It was a simple mistake.” She picked up the scissors and made a stabbing motion at her throat. Then she forced a laugh, the kind that felt and sounded fake, but managed to lighten her mood and Cynthia’s as well.

  Cynthia smiled, then returned to her work. Daisy decided to cut more rose stems, rather than her throat.

  “How is Art liking his new office suite?” Cynthia said.

  “He loves it,” Daisy replied. “So do I. It’s like a home away from home, but he doesn’t stay overnight unless he has to. I’ve stayed there a few times myself.”

  “That’s good. Great.” Cynthia thought about how well Daisy and Art got along and wished things had turned out better between her and Evan, but she shook those thoughts and returned to her work.

  ****

  Less than an hour before the recital began at the Belmont Theater, Cynthia was sitting a few rows from the stage in the mostly empty room. She picked up her phone when the time Evan was supposed to arrive had come and passed.

  “Where are you?” she said. “You know Mallorie’s recital is in less than an hour!”

  “Yes, I know. I’m running late, Cynthia. I had to finish—”

  “Evan! It’s always the same thing with you! There’s always something more important! Are you still at the office?”

  “I’m just finishing up, and I’ll be there in about a half hour. There’s nothing more important to me than Mal, so don’t give me that shit!”

  “Just hurry up,” Cynthia said.

  “I’ll be there.”

  ****

  Evan’s computer screen went black and the blue light on the tower turned orange. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, folded it over his arm, ran to the elevator, and pressed the down arrow as many times as he could in the thirty seconds before the doors opened. There were a few people inside, but all of them left except for a woman, and Evan’s best friend, Larry.

  “Hey Evan!” Larry said. “You finally out of here?”

  “Yes! Jane loved my article, which I can’t say I expected. I don’t have to tell you.” Evan smirked. He stepped into the elevator.

  “Pretty much,” Larry said. “So Mal’s got her recital tonight, right?”

  “Yeah. I’m excited to see her, but I have to sit next to the ex. She thinks if I don’t sit with her, I didn’t come.”

  “Women. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em!” Larry laughed.

  “I just want things to be better.”

  “No kidding.”

  The elevator made a ding! and the door opened.

  “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Evan said.

  “Yeah, sure, unless I get ‘sick.’” Larry winked.

  Evan stepped out of the elevator, walking backwards. “Yeah, right! You’d better be here! You’re the only one who keeps me going!” Larry laughed. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye,” Larry said.

  Evan ran to his car and jumped in. He had forty-five minutes to get to the Belmont, park, get inside, and find Cynthia.

  On the way, the traffic was surprisingly relenting. Evan was able to blaze down the streets of Chicago fairly easily. Soon he could see the big, round, brick building in the distance.

  Evan found a spot, parked the car, and followed the walkway to the front of the building. People flowed through the doors. Evan’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he rushed toward the recital room.

  An old woman with a smile on her face was handing out programs. Evan took one and headed into the theater. It was fairly crowded; he couldn’t see Cynthia, but he felt his cell phone vibrate furiously in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

  “I’m in the room, Cynthia!” He rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “Over here,” she said. She stood up and waved her hand.

  Evan tried the best he could to make his way through the crowd. He almost tripped on a purse lying in the aisle. The owner grabbed it, and smiled. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine,” Evan said. “I should have watched where I was going.” He hurried off, turned right, carefully traversed half of the row, and sat down next to Cynthia.

  “Thank God you’re here! I was—”

  “You know what?” Evan said. “Let’s just not get into this now. This night is about Mal, not us.”

  Cynthia sighed. There wasn’t a word between them for a few minutes, then Evan looked at his watch.

  “About five minutes,” he said.

  “Yeah. Mallorie is so excited about tonight. She’s been counting it down on her calendar, crossing off the days since February.”

  “I know she’ll do great.”

  Evan and Cynthia sat quietly, waiting for the curtain to rise.

  3

  Among Friends

  On the morning of the 21st, Jordan had fried eggs and a big bowl of Frosted Flakes as the news was blaring out of the television. Across from him sat his father, who was also eating a bowl of cereal, his tape recorder resting on the table beside it. The two of them rarely talked during their morning ritual (except for when his dad had an idea and logged it into the recorder), but they enjoyed each other’s company.

  Jordan listened when the weatherman came on, since he planned on hitting the pool with his friends. The weatherman promised sunny, clear skies for the rest of the week. Jordan smiled. He needed some sort of fun to balance out his upcoming shift at the Ferrington Gro
cery.

  It was a quarter to noon when Jordan hopped into his car and went to meet his friends at the Gladstone Pool.

  ****

  Ashley Stant stood in her pink and white polka-dot bikini on the wet cement by the pool. She waved her arms in the air and cried out to Jordan, who was enjoying the cool water. Jordan didn’t respond, so she called to him again.

  “Hey, Jordan!”

  Jordan launched from beneath the water, sending a wave over the lip of the pool.

  “Yeah?”

  Ashley beckoned to him. Jordan breaststroked toward the edge of the pool and heaved himself out of the water.

  “I’m getting hungry. I’ll probably get some food from the snack bar. I’m sure you’d like something?”

  “Sure!” Jordan stood there looking down at Ashley, excess water cascading down their bodies. “Do the guys want anything?”

  “They went without us.” Ashley laughed and a snort came out. She always snorted when she laughed hard enough. It made her self-conscious, but Jordan thought it was kind of cute, and it made him laugh as well.

  “Sounds just like ‘em,” Jordan said. “Let’s go.”

  After getting their food, Jordan and Ashley headed for the sitting area. It didn’t take more than a second for Jordan to spot the bright red-and-blue towel draped over Drew’s shoulder, and Aiden waving them over.

  “Guess you guys just couldn’t wait for us.” Jordan set his tray on the table and sat down. His wet swim trunks smacked against the plastic chair.

  “Not a chance!” Aiden said, then chomped down on the last bite of his hotdog. He grabbed for his chips and dug around in the bag.

  “Men need a solid meal after a mad swim,” Drew said. “You can’t really expect us to wait.” He sucked at his straw; it made a dry, annoying sucking sound, so he set the cup back on the table.