The Tilian Effect (The Pandemic Sequence) by Tom Calen

Author:Tom Calen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Occult, survivial, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies, undead, Genre Fiction, the walking dead, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9781618680921
Publisher: Permuted Press
Published: 2012-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

He woke with a jolt, eyes springing open, a gasp in his lungs. The illusions of troubled dreams still tumbled in his mind, creating confusion between reality and the subconscious. It was not until his ears focused on the excited barking of the dog that Mike Allard was able to pinpoint what had pulled him so violently from his slumber. He recalled a banging in his last dream, the sounded echoed again by a knock at the front door.

The hands of the clock by his bed told him it was quite early for visitors, even earlier than he would have woken to ready himself for work. Tossing the thin sheets aside, Mike pressed his feet into the thick rug that stretched out from under the bed. Rug became wooden floor and the jolt of cold at his feet caused him to hop more than walk out of the bedroom and into the living room. Gazelle danced erratically, barking non-stop, in a small circle by the front door. Another knock sounded, this one more insistent than the previous. He had several choice words readied on his tongue, but he swallowed them in surprise when he opened the door.

Standing on the small porch outside his home was three faces he had not expected to find. Whatever shock Mike felt initially quickly faded as he saw the strain and panic in the eyes of Erik, Michelle, and Andrew. Before he could find any words of greeting, Michelle spoke pleadingly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Allard, but we didn’t know where else to go.” Mike stood aside and ushered the trio in, thinking to himself that something was clearly wrong if Michelle had slipped back to addressing him formally. After closing the door, his eyes were drawn to Michelle’s noticeable limp, then lower to her very swollen foot and ankle. Fetching chairs from the kitchen, he sat in silence as his two former students, and Andrew, talked over each other in detailing their story.

Michelle told him of the conversation where she first heard of the Ira Project, her meeting with Councilor Adam Duncan, and her previous night’s excursion to the East Side. Erik filled in his parts, the men waiting at his home, the mad flight from the Bay. Andrew appeared to be hearing much of the information for the first time, and Mike wondered if his own expression matched the shock outlined on the young man’s face.

“So after we left the house, we didn’t know where else to go. I know you’re… I mean, I know things are different for you… but I thought maybe you could help us,” Michelle said. Mike knew she was stumbling around mentioning the changes in him that had occurred since arriving on the island. He understood her sidestepping. If pushed, he was not sure he could put it into words either.

As they talked, as he listened, Mike could feel the paralyzing ice seeping into his limbs. He had become accustomed to the sensation over the past months. Any

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