When Dean and I woke the next morning, the motel room was trashed. We were lying on the springs of the bed, the mattress having vanished. A glance through the window showed that the city was in as bad a shape as the motel room we were in. After getting dressed, we headed out, looking around at the devastation. Everything was either broken, graffitied on, or both. A noise like glass shattering alerted us, and we went to go investigate.
A young girl clutching a teddy bear sat in the alley, the first sign of life we'd found.
"Little girl? Little girl?" Dean called out.
"Are you hurt?" I added.
The girl didn't respond, just clutching the stuffed animal to her chest.
"You know the not-talking thing is kind of creepy, right?" Dean asked.
My eyes widened as I realized there was blood dripping from the girl's mouth. I pulled Dean back as she screamed, attacking us with a shard of glass. As we fled, a large piece of graffiti caught my eye, and I pointed it out to Dean:
'CROATOAN'.
"Oh, crap," he swore.
Several more people, most likely all infected with the virus like the little girl, rounded the corner at that moment. Dean and I both took off sprinting in the opposite direction as the crowd chased us onto a street blocked by a chain-link fence. As we stayed under cover, ducking into an alley, several soldiers on tanks arrived and started shooting the infected. Dean broke a hole in the fence, letting me slip through before following me, leaving the soldiers behind. I paused to read a sign attached to the fence.
CROATOAN VIRUS
HOT ZONE- NO ENTRY
BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND
AUGUST 1, 2014
KANSAS CITY
"August first, 2014," I read aloud.
"Come on," Dean nudged me.
He hotwired a conveniently located car nearby, which, also conveniently, had a full tank of gas. Later that night, Dean drove while I messed with the radio, which only let through static. Checking my phone proved there to be no cell service either.
"That's never a good sign," Dean noted.
"'Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia,'" a familiar voice spoke from the backseat.
I growled, looking back at Zachariah, who was reading from a newspaper.
"I thought I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap," Dean snarled.
"'President Palin defends bombing in Houston,'" Zachariah continued reading aloud. "Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. That's right- no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me."
"How did you find us?" I demanded.
"Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late- human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out."
"The Bible freak outside the motel," Dean recalled, "he, what, dropped a dime on us?"
"Onward, Christian soldiers."
"Okay, well, good, great," I rolled my eyes. "You have had your jollies. Now send us back, you son of a bitch."
"Oh, you'll get back- all in good time," Zachariah smirked. "We want you to marinate a bit."
YOU ARE READING
She Talks to Angels | {BOOK 2}
Fanfiction-BOOK 2 IN THE DAWSON'S DAUGHTER SERIES- ___ It's been four months since Dean went to Hell, and they've all taken it pretty hard. However, when Ellie hears her angel's voice in her head for the first time since the attack, it starts a chain of event...
