The Dawn of the Lost: Prequel to The Lost and the Wicked (2 page)

This can’t he happening. This can’t be happening.
As the words echo in my head, the green mist spills into the classroom. The students by the door are tossed violently against the wall. I feel a tug at my knees as I hold onto the feet of the desk. But the desk, too, skids across the room and slams against the wall, taking me with it.

The last thing I remember is a body headed toward me. Then my world goes dark.

≈≈≈

“Summer!” A hand shakes me to the present. I open my eyes groggily. A blurred figure looks down at me. Slowly, the figure grows a nose. Then two eyes take form. “Summer? Are you okay?”

That’s when I realize that it’s Andrew. He wears a look of worry.

“What happened?” I mumble, glancing around me. A scream drowns in my throat as I take in the dreadful sight. Lucy, along with half a dozen other students lay in a pile at the corner of the room. A pool of red has formed under their lifeless corpses.

Martha, a girl who let me copy her homework once, hangs out the broken window. Half of her body is inside the room, the other half is outside. Her head dangles on her long neck as her cold eyes etch into mine.

A lurching feeling travels up my throat, and I gag. But the vomit that I’m sure is about to pour out never does and I’m left on all fours, heaving deeply as cold sweat drips down my forehead.

“Hey, Summer!” Suddenly Andrew pushes me to the floor, turns me around, and throws himself on top of me. His lips come over mine and he begins to blow. I push his face back. “What are you doing?”

He looks down at me, a confused look on his face. “I thought you were choking. The same thing happened to Lucas.” His voice lowers to a hushed whisper. “He breathed in the green air and just fell down and died.”

“Are you saying that the air is toxic?” I ask as I get up. My feet are still a bit wobbly, but I think I’ll be fine. “That makes no sense. You and I are breathing well enough.” As I speak my gaze drifts around the room warily, taking in the green gas that hangs in the air like a curtain.

“Maybe we’re immune,” he says, shrugging.

“Immune or not, I need to get home. I need to check on my dad.”

A sudden look of dread comes over him. “I…I need to go check on my sister.”

“
Your sister
?” I didn’t even know he had a sister. Not exactly surprising, considering we’re not the best of friends, but still. “Where is she?”

“She’s an eighth grader over at Virginia School.” He rushes out of the classroom. I follow close behind. Neither of us says anything about the scenery of death that we pass. Dozens of students lie scattered across the hall between rubble. Some are bleeding from cuts in their bodies. Others lay unmoving, with no sign of harm anywhere. It is almost as if they just fell down and went to sleep, though I know that this is a sleep they will never be waking from.

The deformed corpse of Mrs. Todd is hunched against the trophy case on the first floor. The whistle she so many times blew mercilessly rests between her lips. Blood that drips from her eyes traces the wrinkles of her saggy cheeks.

Nothing I had seen within the school’s walls could have prepared me for what awaits me outside. The street has been razed. Countless cars with smoke pouring out of their hoods are scattered about. Some have been tipped over, so that the top of the car is now the bottom. Corpses litter the panorama before me, causing my stomach to reel. Seeing all this devastation kills my hopes of finding my dad alive.
No. I mustn’t think that way. I’m alive after all, right? He is too.

“Oh no.” Andrew’s voice yanks me back to reality. His eyes are locked on Virginia School. From this distance, it’s hard to make out the usual mustard yellow and white colors on the wall. The green dust isn’t making things any easier. But what is clear is that the school has been hit hard. Most of it lies in rubble. In fact, the small square office is the only building that appears to be unscathed. “I have to go check on my sister.”

“Wait!” I’ve seen enough movies to know that splitting up is not the best idea. Nonetheless, he has things to do and I have mine. But I think I have a solution for both of us. “Let’s meet somewhere. Around five?”

He nods. “By the Westchester city line?”

“Yes. That sounds good.”

“Ok. See you there at five.” He turns and takes off toward Virginia. I take off the opposite way, hoping I’m not too late.

≈≈≈

I hardly recognize my home. Part of the roof has collapsed within itself, while the other half has lost most of its brick tiles. The double doors have been pushed into the living room, so that they dangle by their hinges. My dad’s Lexus is outside, littered with dust and grime.

“Dad!” I yell as I step over a knocked over door. Silence is my only answer. My skin goosebumps as I creep toward the kitchen. My dad always has his morning tea here as he watches the stocks holo-videos. But the kitchen is empty. Spice jars have been knocked over, spilling their contents. The pot of tea has poured over the white walls, leaving a large stain.

“Dad!” I walk out of the kitchen and back into the living room. If he’s not in the kitchen, then he may be in his room. But that’s upstairs, and parts of the stairs are broken. How safe can climbing it really be?

I swallow my fear and cautiously put my foot on the first step. It holds, so I move up the second, and then the third. Despite the many creaks, I make it to the second floor unscathed.

“Dad. Are you there?”

My heart beats at a thousand times a minute. He hasn’t answered, which means he’s probably really hurt. Or worse.

Think positive. Think positive. Think positive.
I pass dozens of family pictures that hang in the wall. Most of them are of my dad and I. In some we’re at the park, posing by the swings. In others we’re at Disneyland, standing at the entrance. In every picture I’m smiling, my face full of joy. A far cry from what I’m feeling now.

I grip the cold handle from my dad’s room and push it open, bracing myself for the worst. My dad’s old jukebox is tipped over against the wall. Elvis Presley plays from it.

My chest tightens as I see him. Or rather, part of him. The bookshelf by his desk has fallen over his head so that only part of his neck and his body are visible. Blood comes out from under him, soaking the books that have fallen beside him in crimson.

“Dad!” I throw myself beside him and grip the bookshelf. I try my best to lift it. But it’s just too heavy. No matter how much I heave and grunt under the weight, it won’t budge an inch. The longer I struggle, the more I realize that it’s all in vain. Surely my dad should have heard my shouts, or at least felt me trying to move him. But there is no recognition from him. No sign that he knows I’m here.

Elvis’s voice is replaced by a ringing in my ear as I lay my head atop his silent chest. The familiar ups and downs are now absent. “Dad! No!” For how long I sob over his corpse, I do not know. Time seems to slow down, then quicken without warning. Thousands of images of times we shared flash before me.

Slowly, I force the scenes to dissipate as I pick myself up. There’s nothing I can do here anymore. He’s dead. No amount of crying is going to change that. I may have lost him, but I still have my little stepsister. She lives in somewhere in California with my mom. I’ve never seen her in person, but we e-mail and chat online all the time. She’s the last of my family. Somehow I have to get to California and make sure she’s okay.

All of a sudden, a loud gurgling sound reverberates behind me. I snap my head back, just taking note of the blonde hair. I’ve been so busy concentrating on my dad that I didn’t notice Kendra. She’s knocked out beside the jukebox. Some type of thick white liquid is pouring out of her mouth, ears, and nose.

What the heck is that?
Her body convulses, and she begins to make gagging sounds, as if she’s choking on vomit.

I stagger back a few steps.

That’s when everything gets weird. Kendra, who I was sure had been dead, stands. Her feet seem wobbly, like a child learning to walk. Her eyes are now two deep, black marbles. The white gunk continues to drip out of her ears and nose. But now, it’s dripping out of her skin pores as well, so that she looks as if she took a dip in white mud.

Her mouth opens. The white vile pours out. Some of it sticks to her lips, smacking loudly as her mouth opens and closes. “Sumrrrrrr…”

Does she recognize me?

With outstretched hands, she moves toward me, croaking under her breath. “Dieeeeeeeee. Hummmaannnn!”

Adrenaline surges through my veins as I turn and take off toward the door. Loud, wet footsteps follow close behind. I grab the handle and rush out. The run down the hallway is a blur. No longer caring if the stairs are safe or not, I speed down them.

When I reach the bottom, I feel something heavy ram into my back. I fall to the floor. Before I can get to my feet, Kendra is already above me, croaking eerily as she moves in closer.

Still on all fours, I stagger back until I run into the fireplace.
That’s it!
Without taking my eyes off Kendra, I reach for the fire iron. The creature pounces down toward me, opening its mouth as if to take a bite. I drive the sharp end of the fire iron forward, ramming it into Kendra’s chest.

“Argghhhhh!” There is a loud scream from my loving stepmother. I get on my feet, and before it can recover, I bring the fire iron down the top of her skull.

Kendra staggers for a moment from side to side. Her mouth opens. More white sludge pours out. Just when I think she’s going to move in for another attack, she falls face first on the carpet.

I remain unmoving for a minute, trying to register what in the world has just happened. Could it be that the green gas is some kind of poison? Infecting some people? Suddenly, I’m glad that my dad was at least crushed to death. Seeing him turn into one of those things would have been too much.

A terrible idea dawns on me. If the green gas is some kind of poison that turns humans into those croaking monsters, then how many other humans will be affected? And why would anyone do this? We’re not at war with anyone.

Irrelevant, Summer.
Right now, my first priority is to meet up with Andrew, if he made it, and get out of the city. There are way too many people here, which makes it the most dangerous place to be.

I take out my phone and look down at the picture of my little stepsister. She’s wearing a blue jumpsuit and holds a large wrench in her hands, which is how she got her nickname.

“Don’t worry, Wrenches. Your big sis is coming for you.” I look out the window, noticing Mr. Reynolds, my old neighbor, staggering out of his home and onto his front lawn. His eyes are black and white gunk covers his entire body.

With a sickening crunch, I pull the fire iron out of Kendra’s skull. I hold the weapon closely as I move toward the door. There’s no way I’m going to die here, not when there are people out there who need me.

With a determined breath, I step out onto the front porch. Somebody out there wants me dead. Well, I’ve never been one to cater to what others want. And I’m definitely not going to start now.

Andrew Nichols (17-year-old High School Senior)

Year: 2101

Location: New York City

The stairs creak loudly under my feet as I walk down the steps. I specifically got up late, hoping that Dad wouldn’t be waiting for me when I came down to the kitchen. No such luck. He sits there at the end of the square table. A plate of bacon and eggs sit before him. His large eyes look up at me from behind the newspaper. The year is 2101. You would think he would have started reading the holo-tablets by now.

“Have you read the newspaper, son?”

“Didn’t have time.” My mom hands me a glass of orange juice and a plate of delicious smelling bacon. I gulp down the juice and take a bite of the crispy bacon before setting the plate down on the table.

“Why not?” he insists. Before he even opens his mouth I already have an idea of what he’s going to talk about. Football is all he knows. You would think that he’s the star quarterback leading East High to the playoffs, and not me. “According to the New York Reporter, your offense won’t be enough to take down the Blades tonight.” He tosses the paper dismissively. “They obviously don’t know that with your passing game you can dismantle any defense in the state. You did break the national high school passing record, after all.”

“I’m not the only player in the team, Dad. There is a whole group of us.”

He caresses his strong chiseled jaw as he glares at me. Even at his age, it’s clear to see why he once was a highly sought out linebacker. He is large, well over three hundred pounds. Thick veins protrude from his arms. “We both know you’re the star of the team. I don’t see anyone else having offers from the top universities in the state.”

My body stiffens at the mention of a university. I can already feel the bombardment of questions coming.
Have I chosen a university to attend? How much longer until I make up my mind? What’s taking so long?

Luckily, before he can voice any of his inquiries, my sister, who up until now has been eating silently, speaks up.

“Look at the time. We really have to go.” She stands and heads for the door.

Not missing my cue, I give my mom a quick kiss and follow my sister to the door. “Bye, Dad.”

“I’ll see you at the game tonight,” he says as I close the door. “Those boys from Queens High won’t know what hit them!”

“Thanks, Gia,” I say, opening the door to my red Corvette. It was a gift from my dad, one of the few good things that this cursed football venture has gotten me. Another is that I get to drive my little sister to and from to school.

She takes a seat and buckles her seatbelt on the passenger seat. “I wouldn’t have to be saving your butt if you would just tell dad that you don’t want to play football anymore.”

“Who told you that I don’t want to play football anymore?”

Her eyes roll as she glares up at me. “Please. It’s obvious to everyone.” Her small lips form into a frown. “Everyone except dad.”

We stop at a red light and I glare down at my little sister. Like me, she has white skin and dark blonde hair, though I swear she got all the good looks of the family. Which worries me, I bet all the boys at her school are going after her.

“It’s green,” she says, pointing at the light.

“Oh, yes.” I press on the accelerator and turn the wide corner, passing dozens of suburban homes. They all look so bland and boring, just like my life.

“Are you okay?” she asks, waving her hand in front of me.

“Y…yes.”

“You spaced out again.” She sighs deeply. “If this football thing has you this worried, just tell dad. It’s your choice, not his. You’ll never be happy living somebody else’s life.”

Still feeling a bit numb, I drive into East High’s parking lot and park the car in the first empty space I see, which isn’t too hard considering that most students at school don’t drive. “How old are you?” I ask her as I twist the key. The roaring engine dwindles into nothingness.

She smirks widely. “Thirteen.”

“When did you become so smart?”

Before she can answer, the guys from the team appear seemingly from nowhere. Michael plasters his face on my window so hard that his nose takes the form of a pig’s.

“Hey, Andrew!” yells Thomas. “Are you coming out or what?”

“Better not keep your friends waiting,” says Gia. She gets of the car and trudges off. Her school is right next to mine, so I know she’ll be okay. A tall boy, standing by an oak tree waves at her. She waves back.

“Who is that?” I ask, trying to hide the layer of annoyance in my voice.

“A friend!” She doesn’t bother to turn back as she answers. They meet up and together, walk toward Virginia Middle School. The school itself is nothing much to look at. It sits at the edge of the street. Its green and white colors have mostly faded due to years of sun exposure. A small, dark gate separates the front yard from the front street, where parents’ cars pass by, hastily dropping off their kids to school.

A friend? Yeah, right. I know what that means. I’ll be making sure to have a good talk with this ‘friend.’ Let him know that if he breaks my little sister’s heart, I’ll break his face.

“Earth to Andrew.” Thomas inclines his head in front of mine. “Hey, dude. You’re ready for today’s game or what?”

Still feeling numb, I nod, trying to look confident. “Of course.”

“Yeah!” The entire offensive line puts up their hands and cheer. I join in half-heartedly. At least playing football has gotten me some friends. Before I became a big time quarterback I used to wander the halls aimlessly. No one looked my way or to bothered to speak to me. It was as if I were invisible. I dread going back to those days. It is one of the reasons I have stayed in the football team.

“Check it out,” says Thomas, pointing at a fancy white Lincoln that has stopped in front of the school. Summer is inside. She’s with a beautiful blonde haired woman who looks to be a few years older than her. Whatever’s going on, Summer doesn’t look all too happy. “The emo queen does have emotions after all.”

The guys snicker to themselves.

My throat goes dry. I want to tell them to shut up and not make fun of her, but I just can’t. I seriously don’t get what people have against her. Summer has to be the coolest girl at school. She’s very honest and blunt. If she has a problem with you, she’ll tell you right to your face. She’s not one to talk behind anyone’s back. And the way she carries herself with an
I don’t care what you think about me
attitude
is so sexy. I wish I could be a bit more like that. If I had it my way, I would break up with Lucy and go out with Summer in a minute. If I was willing to commit social suicide, that is.

Summer opens the door and slams it loudly. A second later, the Lincoln screeches off, leaving dark tire tracks in its wake.

“Hey, Summer!” The words blurt out of my mouth before I even have a chance to think about them.

She turns back, a frown spread across her face. Her dark rimmed lips and determined gaze give her a tough appearance. I turn on my fake pompous smirk. Being an ass is the only way I’ve ever been able to speak to her. One time, during our freshman year, I tried to have a genuine conversation with her, but I was so nervous that I ended up stuttering nervously while she looked at me awkwardly. It was the one and only time I dared to attempt to be the real me with her. “Your older sister is hot. Hook me up with those digits.”

The guys erupt in loud cackles.

She rolls her eyes. “Get lost, Andrew!”

“Maybe we can get lost together behind the bleachers. I’m sure even you can appreciate a good time.”

“No, thank you. I have no interest in becoming one of your floozies.”

Aware that the guys are watching and expecting me to be my usual confident self, I move closer to her. The hair on my arms stands up as I take in the fresh scent of her tresses. “Aw. I like my girls feisty.”

It’s clear that she’s finding my close distance unnerving. Her cheeks grow a deep red.

“T-too bad I don’t like you.” she mumbles, turning and stomping away.

“Aw!” shouts Kevin.

“She told
you
,” adds Dante.

Thomas laughs. “Turned down cold, man.”

“That’s fine,” I say, determined to save face. “She’ll come along sooner or later.”

“You got to admit, she’s pretty hot though,” says Kevin. He licks his lips hungrily, eyeing Summer’s swaying hips. “And that back view isn’t all that bad either, huh Andrew?”

“Andrew wouldn’t look at any other girl, because he has me,” declares a chirpy voice. Two soft hands come over my eyes. “Guess who?”

I sneeze softly, wondering if she’s actually serious. No one else at East High wears this much perfume. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she’d used the entire bottle of Jasmine’s Luck. Or was it Jasamine’s Fortune?

“See you later, dude,” says Thomas. I hear the footsteps of the boys as they walk away. They always do that. It’s like they know that Lucy wants me all to herself. Which is just one of the reasons I want to break up with her. She sees me as an object. Something that belongs to her, like one of her cheerleading trophies. I just wish breaking up was as easy as it sounded.

“C’mon. Guess,” she insists after I refrain from answering.

“Lucy.”

Her hands leave my eyes. “Yay!” she cheers, as if I had just won a contest. “You’re so smart, baby. That’s why I knew you would get it right.” Her deep brown, almond-shaped eyes stare at mine, then she leans in and kisses me softly, leaving the taste of strawberry chapstick on my lips. “Which is why I need your opinion.” She digs into her backpack and brings out a fashion magazine. Quickly, she flips the pages, finally coming to a stop at the center. She turns it and shoves it in front of my face. Two models stare back at me. Both wear a blue bikini as they lay before a beach. “Which one?”

Standing stiffly, my eyes travel from one picture to the other. “Which what?”

“Which hairstyle, silly. Tonight is homecoming, and I have to look my best when we win King and Queen. I kinda want to go for the hair down look, but I really like the chopstick bun Lisa Lori is wearing in this picture.” She points at the second picture, which features a long-legged woman with dark skin.

I gaze at Lucy, wondering how I ever ended up with her. It all began well enough, but after hours upon hours of hearing her talk about nothing but her hair, nails, make-up, and a ton of other things I knew nothing about, it got tiresome.

She waves her hand in front of me. “Hello, baby?”

It’s over between us. Find yourself a new trophy boyfriend.
At least that’s what I want to tell her, but instead what comes out is, “I don’t know.”

“You’re so right,” she says, happily. “You’re a guy. What do
you
know? I’ll ask the girls. See you later.” She plants a quick kiss on my lips and takes off.

I sigh tiredly as I watch her run into the hallway. Just then, the loud bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. Well, for most students at least. One of the other great things about football is that every Friday I get to get out of class to head over to the basement and watch videos. Not Hollywood movies. No. The videos I watch are of the team we’re about to face. It’s my job to analyze their defense and break it down. Find holes and weaknesses.

The door to the basement is thick, gray, and looks to be over a hundred years old. It was built back during the Cold War, when the threat of a bomb attack seemed imminent. Nowadays the basement serves a much boring purpose. It’s where the library is. It is also where Coach Ronald has his office.

I step into the cold hallway of the basement. Even though I have my thick jacket on, my skin goosebumps. No matter how many times I come down here, I’ve never been able to get used to the creepy dark cement walls, the ominous smell of dead rat, or the loud footsteps that echo on the hard floor with every step I take.

Steeling my nerves, I hurry down the corridor. I reach the termite-infested wooden door at the end and push it open. To my relief, Rob is already here. He’s laying down on the old sofa, his feet on top of coaches’ desk.

“Coach would kill you if he saw you,” I tell him. “You know how much he loves that antique he likes to call a desk.”

He shrugs. “I don’t see him here. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone down here all morning.”

“Well, the library is closed on Fridays. And you know how late coach always is.”

“I guess it’s just you and me then.”

He puts in a holo recording. The images of the team we’re facing tonight flash in the dirty monitor. I take a seat on the coach’s chair and stare at the monitor, not really paying attention. Instead of football, I can’t stop thinking of Summer. I wish there were a way she would notice me. Not just as the jock, but the real me. Sadly, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. I got stuck in this role and I don’t think there’s a way out.

“Did you hear that?” asks Rob.

“Hear what?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that noise.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Then again, I wasn’t really paying attention. I was a little busy daydreaming about Summer. I decide to leave that part out.