Four Nights Out Of Hell
Summary: Lucas Emmett and his five friends unknowingly survive a viral outbreak only to return to a world where the dead rise and the living fear. What his friends do not realise is that Lucas will do anything to protect himself and those he cares about.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own the rights to the AMC's Walking Dead, however the original characters that appear in this fanfiction work are of my own creation.
'Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man'.
- Friedrich Nietzsche -
Lucas Emmett
Jensen County, Ohio
Five days ago we decided to go camping. After the events that had transpired on my last birthday, we all agreed that staying in town and partying until we literally dropped was not an option this time around. So a camping trip it was; three girls, my two best mates and I with nothing but bushland for miles. Our destination was a secluded area of the national park, one which I had discovered back when I was fifteen. After showing Tom and Jack a few months back, we were fairly confident that no one else knew of its existence. Jensen was a diminutive town on the backside of 'the big city' but hardly anyone passed our way, so a hidden sanctuary was indeed a rarity. Everyone knew each other's gossip, making the place highly claustrophobic at the best of times. We went to school in the city, and occasionally partied there too as it was one of our only sources of escape.
Five days ago we were young and naive. We were six nineteen year old kids fresh out of school and fresh into life. Back then I was ignorant enough not to care for anything, just taking each day as it went with no real plan. Our biggest concern, the end of school examinations, had come and gone. Life seemed discernible, trapping us in our disillusioned bubbles of innocence. But after days in the wilderness the world as we knew it would be turned on its head. And to think it would only take four nights.
I am writing this all down for prosperity sake. Though I never really paid much attention to detail, I feel that we owe it to the world. Our home, Earth, is like a good novel; each part of history is a chapter. We have wars and famines, characters and settings, hero and villains, yet the words on the page continue to write themselves. This is a new chapter; one which I fear will be the end of the book. But still even if by the time I finish writing all this down the last person on Earth draws their final breath it would still have been worth it. Wouldn't it? Anyway this chapter of life has many different characters and each character has their own story. This one is mine.
In the event of someone finding these scribbles they should know who I am. My name is Lucas Emmett. I am five foot nine with black hair, green eyes and I always get sick. I don't know why I just do. Nothing serious; colds, coughs, hay fever generally, the worst part is the allergies. When I was eight my dad let me ride the motorcycle around the farm for a bit. Mum was furious at him after I received stitches from bashing my face into a fence post. And that was the story behind how I ended up with the small scar on the upper left side of my mouth. Hopefully you can work out which body is mine if you come across this journal because if you happen to be reading this than I am most likely dead.
After returning to town and seeing what we saw we freaked and headed straight back to the sanctuary. It was truly the safest place to go . . . if you wanted to avoid them. The six of us were huddled around the small fire, the burning embers floating over our heads. Tom Rayner was sitting next to me. He was the calm one, I do not know how. The two of us had the same looks and build; green eyes, black hair. So much so that strangers often mistook us for twins. I would not mind having Tom as my brother, he practically is anyway.
On the other side of the fire sat Jack Garrick. He was more the brawn of the group standing at a solid six foot three though he tended to stay quieter than the rest of us. Head down, the only part visible was his blonde hair which well covered his murky grey eyes. Jack was not the smartest person I knew but if you gave him a bat or a ball he could do wonders. His long muscular legs were built for long distance running and he easily outmatched both Tom and I in fights and the county matches.
Sasha Queen had her silky brown hair draped over Jack's legs, her head gently resting on his lap. She had her eyes closed, but even with his head down I could tell Jack was gazing at her below. His hand lightly stroked her dark-tanned arm while his other hand cradled her head comfortably. Sasha had been the most popular girl in school for all her life mainly because of her looks. I remember the first day of year seven when every boy's head turned towards the door as she entered. Even I had a glance or two at her back then. I remember seeing her older brother Marco driving to school in a Mercedes when I was in year nine, a clear sign that her family was wealthier than most. Her father, Jon-Rico conducted business in the city each day, never breathing without his mobile.
The fifth member of the group and evidently the most intelligent was Emily Whitmore. She was short and pretty with her straightened blonde hair. Since we arrived back at the sanctuary around eight o'clock at night, she had sprawled herself onto a green picnic blanket we had brought on the trip. For most of the time her bright blue eyes gazed skyward at the stars and a look of concentration had befallen her, as if she were trying to count each and every one of the celestial bodies. In all reality she was processing the happenings of the day and articulating her plan.
"What should we do?"
At the time I did not realise who had spoken first, it was probably Tom. His voice had fractured the silent state I had been sitting in. As the stillness blanketed us again I wondered if he had actually spoken at all.
"Hello, anyone listening?"
I had been right, it was Tom. My eyes wondered over towards him and I tried to make a reassuring smile. The other two had looked towards him as well, besides Sasha and Emily. And next came the worst part of it all; they then turned to me. If they were searching for a leader it was most probably not me. I mean, sure I could lead if we were in any other situation besides this but we were not. This was our position and our position alone, only we could decide our fates from here on out. And it looked like they were putting their fates in my hands.
"I don't know Tom. We wait until morning and see where we can go from there", I replied trying not to sound overly negative.
My arms were wrapped around the midriff of the final member of our group. Tara Stalinsky laid back into my chest. She had been my girlfriend for two years now and I was lucky enough to have her. I stroked her wavy brown hair as she closed her eyes and fell asleep in my embrace. A quick glance at my watch confirmed that it was midnight and as I glanced back up at the rest of the group they were either sleeping or trying to. I closed my eyes and felt the grip of sleep pull me into that dark abyss I so fondly knew. My last thought was of the warmth. Not from the fire but from Tara's steady, beating heart rekindling in me the need to survive, for her.
12 Hours Earlier . . .
I was currently on the first year of my P's so I was the obvious choice to ferry our group to the location. My dad bought me an old V.W. Convey Van for my first car. It had been dumped outside Mr. Henley's farm, rusting a while before we took it off his hands. The bumper bar had fallen off the front and its windows were broken as well as its few minor engine problems, but once we had it fixed up and repainted it was as good as new. She sat seven people, leaving plenty of room when the six of us were jammed inside. I opened the boot door and turned back to the group who were milling around the rocks.
"Hey Jack, come give us a hand with the esky you lazy git", Tom yelled from the bank of the river.
"Alright alright I'm coming", he replied not particularly choosing his words carefully.
"Oh is that what you were moaning to Sasha last night in her tent?" Tom asked, one of his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in a quizzical manner.
Jack who was evidently finished behind the tree, dashed out after Tom. Regardless of his athletic prowess, Tom's agility overall won. However after feigning disinterest in their little game and moving closer towards Tom under the guise of helping with the eskies, Jack managed to bear grip Tom and throw him into the river. Re-emerging from the water, his spirits a little more dampened than his clothes, Tom was horrified to see the group in fits of laughter at his demise. He shot me a glance of his disapproval.
"Well you did ask for it", I chuckled.
"Come on man, it was a fair call", he reasoned.
"It was a fair call", I replied. "It was getting caught that was your own fault".
He let out a small snicker letting everyone know that he was not completely annoyed about being the centre of everyone's entertainment. Tom shook himself off before trudging over to the eskies, which Jack had already placed in the car . . . by himself. The rest of the group arranged themselves inside while I took one final glance at the vista.
The 'Sanctuary' was situated in a large valley that was lined with trees separated by a river that ran down the middle. Our camping spot was smack bang in the centre of the valley where the area's trees thinned out into a semi-circular shape on the edge of the river's cove. Only accessible by boat, or in our case a one kilometre hike downhill, the 'Sanctuary' was truly hidden. We were forced to leave the van at the top of Deagon's lookout, where the river flowed down the cliffs into the valley below. From the lookout, our spot was hard to notice unless you knew it was there. As I turned away from the view I thought to myself that I would not be returning here for another year. In all matter of fact I would be returning much sooner than I intended.
My back relaxed in the comfortable driver's seat and we pulled slowly away from our untouched paradise. The rough dirt tracks and the weary trees soon evolved into gravel roads and quiet farms; a sleeping Jensen. Sasha's house was the first pit stop of the day and as we turned into her street the eerie stillness became apparent to me. Winton Avenue was on the rich side of town where every household had a convertible parked out front or a great balcony hanging from a lavish second floor. Sasha's place was no exception. A winding driveway led up to the two story house, which one might describe as more of a palace. Shadowed by the towering stack-stone columns and ivory beige walls, the car came to a crawl at the front of the garage. We said our goodbyes to Sasha and Jack carried her bags inside. The rest of the group waited in the car, basking in the glow of the modern chic architecture that lay ahead.
Hardly any time had passed before we saw the most peculiar thing occur. Sasha, who had the palest of faces, came back outside in a frenzy and hurled vomit all over the front garden. At first we had a laugh. Of course at first we had no clue as to what had had happened. Jack came out a few seconds later and threw his guts up as well. When that happened I realised something must have well and truly gone sour; for I knew Jack could hold down several boxes of popcorn before riding the rollercoaster's down the coast. I hurried out of the van to see what the matter was.
"Are you two alright?"
Jack's only response was a finger pointing towards the door and a groan-filled splutter of what was more to come of regurgitation rumble. I carefully walked to the front door, the smells intensifying the closer I approached.
"Tom, go and get the neighbours", I called back.
Upon entering the house, my mind urged me to go back but my legs continued to move further inside. Although the stench was horrific I managed to keep my head down . . . and this morning's breakfast as well. Gripping the collar of my shirt and using it as an improvised gas mask, I muffled out most of the smell that was filling my nostrils.
Sasha's house was grand with vibrant tapestries and roman archways. From the white tiled entrance there lay three routes; one that led into a lounge room, one which led to a winding staircase into the upper level and another that flowed down a hallway, which evidently branched off into other rooms. Its beige walls and high ceilings gave a gloomy effect when back dropped by the eerie suspense of what was ahead. Instinctually I headed towards the lounge room which was dimly lit with the curtains closed tightly across the windows. It was this room that the repugnant smell seemed to be emitting from. After cautiously moving towards the closest window and opening the curtains across widely in the hope of bringing light on the situation, I found my eyes transfixed on the small creature that lay on the fur rug. Its flesh had been torn at with the visible appearance of teeth marks on its bones. The creature was a dog, or had been until a vicious fiend preyed upon it. I left the room treading carefully and ventured back into the foyer where I had begun, this time however taking the stairs. Carpeted floors concealed my footfalls as I stumbled in the dark, finding the master bedroom empty; with dishevelled sheets and drawn curtains. Realisation dawned on my mind and I decided to leave the house. Not a soul had inhabited the place for many days.
Sasha and Jack were still stooping over in the front garden by the time I made it back to the group. My hand freed itself from the collar of my shirt and I breathed in the clean, fresh air in glutinous amounts.
"Was that your dog in there?" I asked.
Sasha nodded painfully before returning her attention to the garden and vomiting once again. Emily and Tara stood around the pair looking worried. They had taken in the events that had transpired inside from our conversation.
"Then where are your parents?" Jack questioned.
"I don't know. They should be here", she replied while recovering.
Tom, who I had sent to retrieve the neighbours, now came back down the driveway. As he drew closer we saw that his face was paler than Sasha's and his legs were shaking as he walked towards us. My gaze dropped to his red, dripping hands; his white shirt stained where he tried to wipe away the blood. Emily and Jack ran towards him as he fell on his knees, his eyes far off in the distance. Tara and I reached Tom a few seconds later, my hands feeling his stomach for the wound. But there was none.
"It's not mine", he muttered. "Their dead Luke, all dead", his words trailed off.
"Who's dead Tom?" I asked tapping his cheek.
His eyes lulled in the back of his head as he fell backwards into Jack's arms, feinting. I pulled off his shirt clumsily and started to wipe away his blood soaked hands. It was no use, there was too much. Jack helped me carry him to the car where we laid him down in the back seat, Sasha rejoining us as we did so, a questioning look at the both of us. All we could give her was a slight shrug and a worried expression.
I will be brutally honest with you. At the current time I had absolutely no clue as to what was happening. The rapid succession of events that had transpired thus far had left me confused and bewildered at the situation. Sasha's dog had been eaten, Tom had returned with blood on his hands from her neighbours and no one was there to be seen. After Tom was placed in the back seat, Jack and I went for a door knock along the street. Nobody had answered.
A plan had been forming in my mind for the last few minutes in which I had been sitting in the driver's seat, my head resting on the top of the steering wheel. I lifted it periodically to check on the rest of the group. Tom was still out cold and the rest were clustering out the front of the house for no particular reason other than to exist. Tara walked over to the car and jumped in the front passenger's seat; her calm demeanour masking her worried eyes. She did not say anything and neither did I for several minutes.
"I think we should go to Jack's place. It's the closest. Maybe his parents are home", I said when the silence became too unbearable.
Tara continued to sit in silence; an action of hers that always made me worried. My hand lay resting on the glove box and hers crept into mine. I squeezed it gently as she looked to me, a single solemn tear staining her beautiful cheek. She wiped it away quickly, looking out the window and acting as if it had been nothing.
"It's okay", I tried to reassure her. "Everything is going to be okay. We'll go see your family and the rest of ours, I am sure there is a completely logical explanation to all of this".
I thought that I sounded convincing but it is hard to be when you do not believe your own words. If she had been looking me in the eyes when I had said those words, she would have known I was lying. And for the time being it soothed her woes and she leant in, leaving the faintest of kisses on my lips before leaving me in the car alone again with Tom.
Jack's family lived on a farm down near Oakridge Ranch and I assumed there would be someone there at least. The dull lifeless streets clustered around us and by now my concerns were clearly showing. Since arriving back in town I had not seen one single person. It was not uncommon to find Jensen quiet but even then there was someone tending the fields or washing their car. But there was literally no one.
Eventually the roads turned back into gravel and the houses scattered themselves unevenly. The lifeless suburbs turned into flowing pastures, thinned birch trees and restless cattle before we finally pulled into a narrow road leading to a house off in the distance. Its white familiar panels and red-tiled roof came more into focus the closer we drove until I brought the van to a gentle stop. Jack flew out of the open door and ran towards the open garage; his father's dirt-stained car parked inside. The rest of us got out less enthusiastically, stretching and waiting for Jack's return. It was one of disappointment.
Everyone went over to talk to Jack and eventually I found myself back in the car as they went inside. What the hell is happening? It was only one of the many thousand questions that I had been asking myself since Sasha's house. Tom began to incoherently murmur, which interrupted my thoughts, and as I turned around to check on him he was sitting up confused.
"Alien invasion or government conspiracy?" he questioned brushing his hair away from his eyes.
I could not help but laugh at his insanely stupid wise crack. Still, I did have serious questions for him and despite the fact that I am completely sane, I feared his innocent words may have had some plausibility.
"What happened back there, Tom?"
Tom took some time to answer, hesitating every time he tried to open his mouth. I sat patiently waiting for him to remember. When he finally breathed his faint words his eyes were somewhere off in the distance.
"You remember that time when I asked Rebecca Nolan out", he spoke nostalgically and paused until I nodded. "My legs were all shaky and my throat felt on fire when I talked to her. I was never good talking to girls but that one time I was bent on not leaving until she said yes. Seeing those bodies just lying there all bloody and shit, my legs felt all shaky and my throat felt on fire all over again. My head was spinning, I couldn't concentrate. There was nothing that I could do". He sounded worked-up and confused, a bead of sweat forming on his head.
"It's ok Tom you're here and that's all that matters".
"No you don't get it Luke", his cold stare fixated on me, "They weren't murdered or nothing. It was like some animal had ripped them to pieces or something. I tried to wake them up but ..."
Tom's shoulders slumped back into the car seat restlessly. He, similarly to Tara, had a look of defeat upon his face.
"Go and crash on Jack's bed for a while Tom. I'm going to wait out here for a little bit", I said.
He gave a weak nod and stepped out of the car. I watched him steadily walk to the open garage and disappear inside like the rest of them. Then I put the van into reverse, turning it around to face away from the house. My foot pressed down onto the accelerator and I gazed into the rear-view mirror as the ranch slowly began to fade.
To be continued . . .