A Colorado town becomes quarantined after the outbreak of a new disease, leaving a family of four to fend for themselves. Threatened by the disease, the army, infected people and loss of electricity they discover the lengths they'll go to in order to survive.
In the wake of a large meteor collision, a fast-spreading disease epidemic is unleashed upon rural Colorado.Joslin, Grant and their two young children find themselves barricaded within their home as the city is quarantined and the fight for survival begins; battling an airborne disease, lack of electricity and running water, starvation, frigid Colorado winter temperatures and worst of all morphs. The family embarks on a journey that tests their strength, sanity and conviction to live.
As the morphs, carriers of the disease, become more numerous and aggressive, Joslin and Grant realize they’ll have to defend their home to protect their children.As each strand of hope frays away, the risks they must take in order to survive grow larger - until at last, Grant is attacked by a morph.Knowing he’s been infected, Grant leaves his family to fend for themselves.
Just when Joslin thinks things can’t get worse, her morphed husband returns to their home on day 94.Crazed and delusional, Grant is determined to get into the house.Joslin’s unwavering desire to save her children drives the assault, knowing it may cost her life in order to stop her husband, Grant.
Excerpt
I sit awake in the solitude of my basement, next to the wavering light of our last candle. The windows have been boarded tightly shut, blocking any trace of light. The small fire is our only source of heat. My children are asleep several feet away; it’s comforting knowing they’re safe, for now. In the silence of the night it’s easy to reminisce about the life we lived, not-so-long ago. Things changed so rapidly. It feels like an eternity that we’ve been barricaded inside our house.
I close my eyes to welcome sleep, but visions of the past three months play in my head like a marathon of madness. I open my eyes and glance down at the journal in my lap. To me it means the world; it’s our story of survival. The notebook’s open, and I stare down at the blank page. The only writing is the heading at the top – Day 94. My heart aches as I wonder how many more entries I’ll be able to make. I frown as I flip back to page one and reminisce about the day of impact.
~ ~ ~ ~
Shards of broken glass littered the floor of our bedroom. The wooden door was sturdy, but there was a large glass window in the top-half of the door. He’d shattered the window, and the dresser in front of the door shook with every swing of the ax. I pulled the home-made gas mask over my mouth and nose, and cautiously approached the door. The ax became embedded in the wood; he had a difficult time pulling it free. I was done trying to rationalize with this monster. I crept along the bedroom wall with my back pressed flat, hiding my presence. He was still struggling to get the ax free. I never thought that he’d come back with an actual weapon. In every scenario I’d imagined, we were on equal fighting grounds. This changed my entire plan. As he wrenched the ax back and forth, I jumped up in front of the dresser and introduced my can of mace. Fluid shot out of the can through the broken window, landing squarely on his face. The liquid sizzled as it came in contact with his skin. He stopped, stunned, before unleashing a grueling scream. Tears threatened to escape my eyes, but I refused to feel guilty. He forgot about the ax and backed away from the door, scrubbing at his eyes with both hands.
With a surge of determination I stood tall, and shouted as loudly as I could, “Go Away. I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you try coming back in.”
Wrong thing to say. His head jerked up and he looked the door, as if welcoming the challenge. That instant, I knew one of us would die before this ended. He came at the door with new-found strength, tearing the ax away in one stealthy movement. I backed away, but didn’t retreat out of the bedroom. The weight of the wall against my back was the only thing keeping me standing. My knees shook and knocked together, but I refused back down. At this point, it’s him or me - and if it’s me, he’ll get the kids, too.
The fortunate inherit riches, prestige, positive notoriety. Those not so lucky bear legacies filled with poverty, infamy or, worse yet, the unhinged insanity and murderous urges of their ancestors.
Happy Halloween. A volume of Horrible Haunts & Twisted Tales taken from the horror books La Belle Rouge has written every October for a decade and a half. If you have read her works in the horror genre, you know the invitation is for you to enjoy thr
Grab those side-irons, saddle up and join former Civil War sharpshooter Luther Henry for a ride into pure terror, western-style…think ‘Wild Wild West’ meets ‘The X-Files’.
