Second Fall | Book 1 | Second Fall Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Quote

  Prologue - New Game

  Chapter One - A Different Kind of Pain

  Chapter Two - The Hell Next Door

  Chapter Three - Innocence

  Chapter Four - Seen Too Much, Know Too Much

  Chapter Five - The Wayward Ones

  Chapter Six - After Hours

  Chapter Seven - Mad

  Chapter Eight - Victims of What Said Should Be

  Chapter Nine - Overtime

  Chapter Ten - Into Eternal Flame

  Chapter Eleven - The Pathogen Among Them

  Chapter Twelve - Best Laid Plans...Preparing the Purge

  Chapter Thirteen - Dread

  Chapter Fourteen - Prey to Failure

  Chapter Fifteen - Decay

  Chapter Sixteen - Fugitive Minds

  Chapter Seventeen - Enter the Nightmare

  Chapter Eighteen - Persevere

  Chapter Nineteen - Hollow

  Chapter Twenty - The Nightmare Unfolds

  Chapter Twenty-One - Lethe

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Between Heaven and Hell

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Frantic

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Deluge

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Salvation

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Fallout

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Monster

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Operation Megacorpse

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Detour

  Chapter Thirty - Dead Letter

  Chapter Thirty-One - Demon

  Chapter Thirty-Two - The Broken Road

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Not Ready to Die

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Haven

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Cold Elegy

  Epilogue - No End in Sight

  Second Fall

  Daniel Byrd

  To my mother and father, who raised and put up with me.

  To my brothers Adam and Matt, and Matt’s wife Sabrina, who haven’t disowned me for being the weird one.

  To my grandmother, for being inspirational and very interested to see where my dark tales would take me.

  To the rest of my family, for being the people I can be embarrassed by in public. You’ve gotten better Jenny. You’ve gotten better.

  To my friends, who accepted me as the oddity I can be and pushed me to be more morbid in writing.

  To my coworkers, who were always there to bounce ideas off of despite the work to be done. It’s amazing I wasn’t fired for writing drafts on receipt paper right under the camera every shift.

  To receipt paper, for being a useful medium when nothing else is available.

  To my former bosses, sorry for that confession.

  To my teachers from school, who encouraged me to keep writing, even if I was doing that in the wrong subjects.

  On that note, to math, for being my eternal enemy, you necessary evil.

  To the readers who somehow managed to get through this dedication, even if it did get random.

  Last, but certainly not least, to my late grandfather, Robert Joseph Mozingo. Like grandma, you always asked about my writing, and wanted to see me make something out of it. That was always inspiring, and I will never forget it.

  This is for all of you.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank the government for not flagging my IP for the questionable things I looked into while researching for the book. Next, I’d like to thank those that have read and enjoyed my short stories at danielbyrd135.wordpress.com, including my collections “Tiamat Unbound” and “Overture of The Fall” (the series that introduces some of the characters in this book). It’s been a few years in the making, but I’ve finally finished this piece, and I couldn’t have done it without my friends who kept pushing me to finish it, my coworkers who probably thought I was insane, and my older brother Matt who tried his best to keep my gun information accurate, because apparently I had a hard time understanding that an M2 can't keep firing nonstop without the barrel pretty much melting, along with the other problems that would ensue. Thanks again to all who have read my works before and will continue to in the future. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  © 2015 Daniel Byrd. All rights reserved.

  “The horde stretched on as far as the eye could see. Writhing, moving, a giant evil mass coming to take our very being. Not just to kill us, but to destroy us in our entirety. The thunder rumbled in the distance as I looked around, taking in the fear and disbelief on the faces of the men that had become like brothers to me. I turned back to face the mass of undead. “Molon labe,” I said to myself as I worked the charging handle on the M2. The big fifty thundered and struck like the hand of God, but the voids were filled instantly, and the mass never slowed. In that moment, I knew that humanity was lost.” – Matthew Mozingo, my older brother on my question of what would make a good quote to start with.

  Prologue - New Game

  Travis had just finished loading the kill of the day into the bed of the truck when he heard a gunshot from somewhere deep within the woods. He slammed the tailgate and swore.

  “Damn it, Blake!” he shouted at the trees around him, “I thought we were done for the day! We’re gonna’ get caught!”

  He leaned against the truck for a moment before deciding to see what his older brother had shot this time. They had already hit their tag limit, but if there was anyone who truly failed to grasp the concept of hunting laws, it was his brother, Blake Turner. Blake was a deviant who enjoyed causing trouble, whether it was in a classroom or just enjoying the torment he could cause his twin brother. Travis knew he shouldn’t have let him talk him into skipping school to hunt, but he’d rather be outside than stuck in a cramp classroom any day, so Blake was right in that argument. After a few minutes of stumbling over bare roots and walking into low hanging branches, Travis reached the spot his brother had claimed, but saw no sign of him.

  “Blake! What the hell are you doing?!” he called out. Yet again, no answer was given from the woods surrounding him. He paced back and forth for a bit, fuming at the thought that Blake was up to something. Last week it was removing enough gunpowder from Travis’ bullets so that they got stuck in the barrel of his new rifle when he was testing it. The week before it was putting thumbtacks underneath the seat cover of his truck. There was no telling what the hell he had planned now. Travis considered going back to his truck and leaving Blake in order to rob him of whatever satisfaction he’d get out of his next prank, when he noticed a large amount of blood on the dead leaves under his feet. He glanced around, realizing that the blood trailed deeper into the woods. Figuring that Blake must be tracking the wounded animal, he decided to follow. With his eyes on the ground, he followed the trail around trees and through brush. The blood became more frequent and visible as he followed it. He got this bastard good. It has to be pretty big to not have bled out already.

  Travis then found blood smeared on the side of a tree and figured that the animal fell against it as it grew weak from blood loss. He walked around the base of it and froze when his eyes fell upon something that struck fear deep within. A young man wearing camouflage was sitting against a tree trunk with a hand to his neck. That hand was desperately holding back a stream of blood that threatened to explode past his fingers. His eyes were wide open, staring at Travis in terror. Travis ran and slid across the leaves to the young man’s side.

  “Blake! What the hell happened
?!”

  “Run…” Blake croaked, spewing blood from his mouth, “run!”

  Blake’s neck wound was bad, and Travis didn’t know what to do. He was staring helplessly at his dying brother when he heard twigs breaking to his right. Looking towards the sound, Travis saw a Georgia game warden in even worse shape than Blake. The man had slashes in his uniform, an apparent gunshot wound to his chest, and a chunk of the right half of his face was missing. His teeth on that side were quite visible, and the overall sight nailed a sickening feeling into Travis’ gut. He began to step away until his back hit a tree.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?! Blake, this isn’t funny!”

  The warden began to run lopsidedly towards Travis while emitting a gurgling sound. Travis looked to Blake, whose hand had dropped from his neck, allowing the blood to flow freely from the open gash. He was staring lifelessly at the ground. Travis panicked and looked back to the warden. Maybe it was just a really good scare tactic.

  “Knock it off! I swear, we won’t poach anymore, just stop! I’ll stop listening to that idiot! Just stop!”

  The warden ignored his plea and reached out with his left hand, grabbing Travis by the shoulder. Travis pushed his arm away and ran around the tree, fleeing back to his truck. While his feet crushed the leaves underneath him, he kept checking behind him for the game warden. He was still following him, but lagging behind. This isn’t a prank. Something’s wrong.

  When Travis reached the truck, he opened the driver side door and jumped into the seat. After fumbling for the keys in his pockets he started the engine and took out his cell phone, and was in the process of dialing 911 when a hand slapped his window. The game warden was on the other side attempting to snap at him through the glass.

  “Stop! Get the hell away! I’m warning you!"

  The game warden continued to beat on the window. Travis put the truck in reverse and stomped on the pedal. After he had backed away a bit, the game warden ran for the truck, but Travis wasn’t about to let him get near again. Instinct kicked in, and it told him to survive. Without a second thought, he shifted into first gear and drove forward, running down the game warden and crushing his body beneath the tires. As he felt the truck bump up over the warden, his conscience tore into him. Oh god, what did I just do?

  In his panic, Travis failed to brake and drove the truck into a pine tree with enough force to shatter the windows. He was left dazed on the steering wheel, not knowing what to do next and staring at the phone that had been thrown under the pedals. After he regained his composure, he grabbed the phone and again attempted to contact 911. He paused as the dial tone began, unsure if he was doing the right thing. What if I did kill an innocent man? What if I’m arrested for this? Dammit Blake, this went way too far!

  He ended the call as an operator answered. His hand fell to the seat and he released the phone. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The trauma from killing a man was too great. The deafening cries of his conscience were captivating him while something tried to fit in through the shattered passenger window. The crunching of glass and a groan got his attention, causing him to leap up and hit his head on the roof of the truck. He forced his door open and jumped out onto the ground before taking a chance to see what the source was. After standing back up, he stared through the cabin of the truck at his brother, who was still trying to climb through the window on the other side. The neck wound was still bleeding profusely, but he didn’t seem to care. Travis still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t a prank that had gone horribly wrong.

  “Blake, that’s enough! You went too far!”

  His brother gawked at him and mumbled something.

  “Blake! Knock it off and say something, you idiot!”

  Blake's head was twitching as the blood flow began to slow. He backed away from the window and began to walk around the truck, "Travis..."

  "What?!" Travis shouted at him. He could talk, so he was fine, but he’d definitely be dead after Travis was through beating the hell out of him.

  "Kill...me..." Blake groaned.

  The request shocked Travis, "What the hell-"

  Blake suddenly became more aggressive, and charged his brother. Travis threw a punch at his face and knocked him to the ground, but Blake quickly scurried to his feet and attacked again, his arms flailing as he tried to strike Travis.

  “Blake! Stop!”

  Blake ignored his plea and tackled him to the ground. Pinned under his weight, Travis wrapped his hands around Blake’s neck as his brother snapped at his face like a rabid dog. Travis grimaced as he strained to hold back his brother’s distorted mug. Mustering his strength, he threw him aside and quickly got up to run, but Blake followed after him. Travis reached the truck and grabbed his shotgun out of the back, giving it a pump and pointing it at the thing that was once his brother.

  “Blake, are you still in there?!”

  Blake actually growled as he advanced towards Travis, who was stuck in a mental impasse. Hesitant at what had to be done to stay alive, he closed his eyes and cried out before pulling the trigger and firing buckshot into his brother’s chest. Blake was blown back onto the forest floor with a decent-sized hole in his chest. Travis shook uncontrollably as he stared at the body of his brother. No…

  He ran to Blake’s side and dropped the gun, unable to grasp what he had just done. His brother’s eyes were wide open, lifeless and haunting as they stared at the overcast sky through the covering of the trees. Travis placed his hand over his own eyes as the tears began to surface. It was because of this that he didn’t see Blake’s open eyes move to him. A hand wrapped around Travis’ wrist, startling him. He was terrified by the sight of his brother still mobile and aggressive after being given a hole where his heart should be. Travis pulled his arm away and snatched his gun up off of the ground as Blake slowly rose to his feet, still functioning after a lethal shot. Travis backed away and pumped another shell into the chamber. When Blake finished adjusting his body to full height, he made a sound that resembled a hiss, disturbing Travis to the point of shaking as he pointed the barrel in Blake’s direction.

  “I don’t know what the hell you are,” Travis sputtered through sobs, “but you’re not my brother anymore.”

  Blake took one step forward before he was blown back again. He hit the ground on his back, landing on top of his insides. Fed up, Travis retreated to the truck and grabbed the phone, determined to do it right this time. He propped the shotgun up against the truck and had the phone up to his ear, praying that someone would pick up fast. The dial tone had just started when he turned around in time to see Blake reach out to him with both hands. Travis dropped the phone and knocked his hands away before throwing a kick to his chest. Blake stumbled backwards as more of his guts spilled out, but it wasn’t enough, and Blake collected himself and attacked once more. Acting fast, Travis sidestepped out of the way as Blake ran into the door of the truck and fell headfirst through the window. His monster of a brother occupied with getting out of his predicament, Travis took the chance to reach into the toolbox for his rifle while Blake kicked and snarled in his attempt to escape his confines. If buckshot wouldn’t do it, then precision was the next option. There was a lot more ammunition for it, and he was more accurate with it anyway. Travis worked the bolt and chambered a round as Blake’s feet hit the ground and his head emerged from the interior of the truck. He slowly turned to face and snarl at Travis, who had the rifle ready to go.

  “Blake, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but if you come at me one more time, I’m ending you!” he threatened.

  Blake took staggering steps towards Travis, who pointed the rifle at his brother’s chest and squeezed the trigger. The .30-06 bullet went right through Blake’s left lung, but he only stumbled before advancing to his brother again, almost as if he was unharmed from the shot altogether. Travis was taking steps back while working the bolt with his trembling hands. He was too shaken to take the time to aim properly, and he fired the next shot at Blake’s neck. The
bullet winged him in his already gruesome wound, further damaging it. Blake fell to his knees, giving Travis time to flee into the woods once more. Blake was on the move by the time Travis looked back, actually managing to keep up with him. Travis was nearly out of breath. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and whatever courage that had kept him fighting before was now dwindling. I’m going to be killed by my own brother.

  Travis came across a wooden tree stand and dove for the ladder. It took everything in him to ascend, and reaching the top he sat on the platform and watched as Blake stared at the ladder hesitantly. He placed a hand on it, but appeared lost to the concept. Travis took the time to point the rifle at his brother's head from above. He was breathing heavily and shaking uncontrollably as he got Blake’s head in the scope. His brother looked up and tilted his head at him, as if he didn't understand why Travis was about to end his existence. Travis took a deep breath and held it as he squeezed the trigger.

  The shot carried throughout the woods, sending birds flying from nearby brush. Travis dropped the rifle on the floor of the platform and leaned over the edge to vomit. Blake’s body lay on the ground, motionless and dead. Travis waited, but Blake never moved again.

  #

  The police arrived at the location of the 911 call, and the scene wasn't quite what they had expected. The body of a game warden had been crushed underneath the wheels of a truck, which was now wrapped around a tree. A lot of blood was splattered across the leaves and puddled in dirt in various places along the ground. They had assumed a hunter had been attacked by an animal and it had all gotten out of hand, but weren't prepared for what was ahead when they went to investigate the screams coming from deeper within the woods. They found Travis Turner cradling the body of his brother, crying out to the sky above.

  Chapter One - A Different Kind of Pain

  David Heyman was half asleep when the bell tore him out of his daze. He grunted, stood up to stretch, and left his third class of the day. He probably should’ve cared about falling asleep in class again, but math never was that interesting to him anyway, and calculus just plain sucked. Why Newton had felt the need to create a better way to measure the effects of gravity on an object was beyond his interests, and learning it was beyond that, but David was sure it served some importance… to some people. To him, however, it was a death sentence. The teacher’s voice was dull, and his classmates too loud. Luckily, the talk of the class that he was missing wasn’t related to the subject. Instead, it was on the same topic going around the entire school that day; the death of senior Blake Turner by his brother’s hands.