Lake Yixa

Copyright © 2014, Cameron Lee Harper

Editing by Courtney Umphress

www.courtneyumphress.com

Cover art by
Thailia Barbea
Publishing

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of
this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via internet or by any other
means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been
used fictionally and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

Published in the United States by Cameron Lee Harper 2014

Thanks to my family and friends.

Liam

     
The old, blue,
beaten-up pickup bucked and rocked as it sped down the dirt road leading out of
Moosetan, Washington. Liam spun the knob on the radio this way and that.
Hissing and crackling filled the tiny cab.

     
"Breaking . .
." The radio hissed and crackled again. "I repeat: breaking deals
down . . ." The radio lost signal again. "Fuck it," Liam said as
he picked up a small cassette tape and flipped it to side
A
. In handwritten letters, it said:
Best of Country
. He shoved it into the radio and cranked up the
volume. Soon, Willie Nelson filled the air. Dust flew up behind the small truck
as Liam hit the gas and sang along. He never saw the man who came running out
of the forest screaming. The dust and the blaring of the music drowned out the
man's cries for help. About thirty minutes later, Liam pulled up to his tiny,
one-bedroom cabin he shared with Tux, his black-and-white cat. He stopped out
front and grabbed the bag of supplies from the back of the pickup truck.

     
"Tux, I'm
home," he said as he pushed the door open. He felt Tux pushing up next to
the door, meowing as Liam walked in. "I wasn't gone that long," he
said, pushing him back with one heavy and battered boot. Liam closed the door
behind him, flipped the light on, and dropped the supplies on the small chair
next to the fireplace. He snapped on the TV and headed to the bedroom, pulling
off his shirt as he walked.

     
"Late
breaking news: tens of thousands across the United States have become sick,
seemingly overnight. Scientists are shocked and baffled by the rapid rate at
which it is spreading. It is still unclear what is causing people to become
sick." Liam stopped in his tracks and stuck his head out of the bedroom.
"A few groups of scientists in the UK believe the illness is linked to
over-processed foods. The illness has already started to show up in eight other
countries."

     
Liam glanced over
at his own bag of chips sticking out of his supply bag. He shook his head and
headed back into his bedroom, stopping to look at himself in a large mirror
that sat above an old, stained dresser. Liam traced the deep lines that crossed
his face. He was getting on in years. He never thought he would see the age of
forty, let alone sixty. But he made it about a month back. Tired and run down,
but still going.
 
He looked up at the
small photo taped to the corner of the mirror.
 
A much younger Liam stood with a beautiful wife and son.

     
So long ago
, he thought. His eyes moved
to the next photo taped to the mirror. A faded army picture. He stood there,
flexing his right arm with a group of five others. Liam looked down at the
tattoo on his right arm. It was a bit faded, but he still could see the
fireflies drawing and the word
Fireflies
with the date 1952 under it. Liam turned and headed back out as he pulled a
shirt on. He sat down and flipped through the channels on the TV until he found
one on UFOs. Liam soon found himself falling asleep.

     
Thump
,
thump
,
thump
. . . Liam
awoke with a start, only to find Tux’s favorite show. He flipped through a few
channels—all snow.

     
"Liam!
Help!"
Thump
,
thump
,
thump
. A voice shouted from outside the door.

     
"Coming,"
he said as he got up and tossed the remote onto his chair. As he opened the
door, Tommy pushed it open and burst in.

     
"Hey, now,
boy. What’s the meaning of this?" he said, turning to look at the boy.
Tommy was about thirteen years old, if Liam remembered right. His short, blond
hair was covered with sweat, his light blue eyes wide with fear.

     
"Help!"
the boy shouted. Liam could clearly see something was wrong. Tommy looked to
have run all the way here through the woods. Dirt, leaves, and a few twigs
stuck out of his clothing and hair.

     
"What’s
wrong?" Liam asked, his voice changing to concern.

     
"Someone
broke into the house. He looked mad. I could hear him screaming and yelling at
Mom—" Tommy was saying when Liam cut him off.

     
"Get to the
truck," he said as he turned and grabbed a rifle that sat above the door.
The two quickly climbed into the truck. Liam gunned it backward and whipped it
around. He shot down the road, sending dirt and rocks flying.

     
"What else
happened?"

     
"I saw Dad
rush in after him, and I heard the pop of a handgun. That's when I ran over
here." The boy was clearly shaken by it all. It only took about ten
minutes for Liam to get there. As they rounded the last bend in the road, they
saw the flashing lights of cop cars and an ambulance sitting out front.
 
Liam shut off the truck and looked over at
the boy.

     
"Stay
here." With that, he got out, leaving his rifle behind. He walked toward
the porch where he could see Marsha sitting on the swing he had put in a few
summers back. As he headed up the front steps, he saw the front door screen. It
looked as if a beast had smashed through it. The screen itself was ripped wide
open, and the frame was only hanging on by a hinge. He looked over to see
Marsha's light blue dress spotted with blood.

     
"Marsha, are
you okay?" he asked.
 
Marsha seem
startled by the sound. She looked at him with a slight smile and stood up.

     
"Oh,
Liam," she said, her voice cracking from emotions as she hugged him.
"Have you seen Tommy? We can't find him. I'm—" she started to say.

     
"He’s in my
truck. He ran over to my house to get me." As if on cue, Tommy came
running up.

     
"Mom!"
he shouted. Liam stepped out of the way as Marsha wrapped her arms around her
son.

     
"What
happened?" Liam asked as the two sat down, still in a half-hug.

     
"Ben just ran
into the house as I was cleaning the living room. He was shouting and
screaming, and he seemed like he had been drinking again. I screamed, and Frank
came running in. Ben had a knife and took a swing at Frank, so Frank shot him.
It only hit him on the shoulder, but he still tried to attack Frank. We were
able to get him to the floor and tie him up," she said, looking up at
Liam.

     
Liam turned to
look at the open door where low, muffled sounds of yelling came from.

     
"I'm going to
go talk to Frank, if you don't mind." She nodded. With that, Liam turned
and headed toward the door.

     
"Liam."
Frank nodded as he saw Liam come in. "The bastard bit me," he said,
holding up his hand and revealing a white, blood-soaked medical cloth that
covered the wound. "I saw him stumble out of the woods. Then he just took
off at a dead run toward the house."

     
Liam sat down in a
chair across from him. He could see a few officers in the kitchen. "Calm
down, Ben. We are here to help you," said one of the officers.

     
"Let me get
the tranquilizer," an EMT said as he moved past the door. Liam was kind of
taken aback by the sounds coming from Ben. It sounded more like a caged animal
than a drunken man. Sounds of hissing and low growls came from the man on the
floor.

     
"They said I
will have to ride into town with them to get my hand checked out." Frank
took a moment before continuing. "Anyway, could I get a ride back with
you? I don't want Marsha to drive after dark. She’s all shaken up."

     
"Yeah,
sure." The two of them sat there, watching through the door as the EMTs
lifted Ben up, his chin resting on his chest. A mix of blood and saliva dripped
from his mouth. Ben’s shirt was covered in blood, along with his face.

     
"Shit,"
Liam muttered.

     
"Yeah. Not
all that blood is mine, too."

     
"Let's go,
Frank." An EMT walked over to where they were sitting. The group headed
out of the house, and Liam followed behind them.

     
Ben was loaded
into the back of the ambulance, along with Frank, an officer by the name of
John, and the EMT, whom Liam only knew as the Williston's kid. He watched as
the cop car and the ambulance headed off down the dirt drive. Liam let Marsha
know that he would get Frank and not to worry; her husband would be okay. Then
he, too, headed off toward town.

     
It wasn't long
before Liam found himself sitting in the hospital emergency room. He was one of
two people sitting. There was a young woman who looked to have just climbed out
of a ditch somewhere. Liam couldn't place her, but she did look really
familiar.
 
Oh well
, he thought as he turned to thumb through an old magazine.
He read off the titles of a few articles: "The Health Risk of
Over-Processed Food," "Eat Yourself Thin: Myth or Reality?," "Processed
Foods and Their Health Benefits."
 
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes when the entrance door
slid open and a set of EMTs came rushing in. At the same time, doctors and
nurses came running from down the hall.

     
"Another bite
victim," one EMT said.

     
"Ripped a
chunk right out of her external jugular vein," the other said. He was
holding a cloth to her neck.

     
"Take her to
Room Three."

     
Liam watched as
they disappeared around a corner. As if the flood gates of madness had been
opened, people started to flow in. Bitten, clawed, ripped, and mangled people
stumbled in on their own power or by help. Liam could name most of them.

     
The town of
Moosetan wasn't a big place. It was early spring, and only a handful of tourists
had started to trickle in. Moosetan sat on the southern end of Lake Yixa. It
was a small, sleepy town in fall and winter, but come mid-to-late spring into
summer, the town population size doubled, if not tripled in size. Liam had grown
up in Moosetan, and not many people moved away. He was the local handyman and
could fix just about anything if he knew how. Even if he didn't, he would find
a way to get it done.