Straight Into Darkness - Deserted Lands #2

Chapter One [Final Beta]

Author's Note: This is the penultimate version of the novel. The parts I upload now are the Beta Reader versions. 95% done. If you find a typo or something that pulls you out of the story, please, let me know. If the change is warranted and I fix it, I will include your name in the Thanks portion at the end of the book! Thanks, Rob

PART I

Safety In Numbers

1

~L~

LIZZIE SLUNK AROUND THE CIRCLES of light cast by streetlamps on the snow-scattered streets of Provo. Officials in The City had decided to leave them on, even in areas outside the new city limits, until the Collections were finished. As long as she could stay out of it, the light helped her find her way to escape.

The January cold bit through her layers of clothing. Happy Belated-fucking eighteenth Birthday, Lizzie.

Someone was following her. It could be paranoia, but paranoia had its place in this fucked-up post-outbreak world. Hell, paranoia had its uses in the old world. She ran down the center of the street, her feet stepping where the drifting snow might cover her tracks.

She rounded a corner and then skidded to a stop. In the distance, someone shambled—one of the "dog-people"—she could tell by its loping gait. It made her think of Spike, the first dog-man she'd known. The reason she decided to call him a dog-man was he had a spiked collar and the brains of really smart dog. Her breath caught as she thought of him. He had exchanged his life for hers. His heart was still human in the end, even if the virus had damaged his brain. This dog-person was a woman.

Lizzie ducked behind a car. The dog-woman shuffled along, past her street. The Collectors tried to pick them up whenever they were spotted; Lizzie still wasn't sure why. They were probably taken care of and given menial labor jobs. Some were still capable of doing tasks if given explicit instructions.

The houses stared at her, each like a death mask. The overwhelming costs of the Flu pandemic reflected in their hollow eyes. When she decided it was safe, she continued on past rows of houses. Behind those empty eyes lay the dead–the hundreds of millions who didn't survive. People like Mama and Jayce. Quiet forever.

The world had gone quiet. Which was why Lizzie had her own special word for the outbreak–the Quieting.

Clean up crews and Collectors had been this way already by the red and green spray paint tags on the houses. The only dead on this street were in her imagination.

The quiet of the snow was disturbed by a car engine. She slid behind a wooden fence, spying on the street through a knothole. A cop car rolled into view—one of The City's finest. Out to serve and protect.

One question was on Lizzie's mind: is he out here to serve his protection on me? Only Rachael knew she was gone, because Lizzie had left Saj with her. No one else should notice until Monday morning. They kept a closer eye on the Preggers like her, but all the sleeping and puking she did meant people didn't check too closely. She should have had another day. She needed that day.

The cop stopped at the next intersection, turned a circle inside it, and stopped, idling.

The door opened and the cop stepped out, dark hair, buzz-cut and a bit of a paunch. He looked like a cop, not just someone who'd been given the job since the Quieting. That might make him better at his job.

Lizzie sidled up against the house, attached to the fence, and worked her way around back. A car door slammed–engine revved and moved away. She crossed the fence between backyards to the next street over, for good measure and ran into the officer.