《The Online Chronicles of Ana Lee Lewis》


 Prologue

    From her perch in the trees above the town, Mockingbird pondered the scene unfolding before her. The tiny village housed the few remaining survivors left in this world and, from the way things were going, they wouldn¡¯t be survivors for much longer. Hordes of walking cadavers pushed and shoved forward, knocking against the already weakened chicken-wire fence. Within the enclosure, exhausted townspeople scrambled to reinforce the inadequate barrier with whatever large objects they could manage to drag over to it. Rusted out cars, barbeque grills, crates of ammunition ¨C anything with enough weight to withstand the pressure exerted by the mass of zombies. But it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Soon the fence would give way and the town would be invaded by the undead. And Mockingbird was powerless to save them.


    A bright light in the distant sky offered the first sign of hope - her partner had finally arrived. She waited for him to fire the first shot. Not because she was patient or humble, but because she had no choice. The power of Mimicry was great when she was surrounded by other superheroes, but it left her with no weapons in her magical arsenal on solo missions.


    ¡°Late, as usual,¡± she called out to him.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Helios asked. ¡°The party doesn¡¯t start until I get here. Time to fire up the grill!¡±


    Helios put his hands close together and a bright orange ball grew between them. When it reached approximately the size of a bowling ball, he released it on the zombies near the end of the pack. They caught fire immediately and began knocking into the others, igniting them as well. The acrid smell of blazing zombies was decidedly more noxious than the previous aroma of unburnt rotten flesh, but fire was the most effective strategy in this situation. It was great for taking out a large group of zombies because all you had to do was light up a few dozen of them and the walking infernos would usually finish off the rest of the pack for you. The downside, of course, was that humans were also vulnerable to fire, so using it this close to a village of innocents was a bit of a gamble. Fortunately, Mockingbird now had a way to mitigate the risk. She put her hands together just as Helios had done and began creating a ball of her own using her recently learned attribute to create the fire element¡¯s opposite - ice. Landing a few feet from the herd, she began to create a perimeter of ice around the pack, containing the fiery corpses. Obviously, this was only a temporary solution as fire melts ice and her walls would soon become puddles, but it should at least give them time to eradicate the pack.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    She completed the icy circles, trapping herself inside, and turned around to help Helios finish lighting up the zombies. But he wasn¡¯t there. Smoke from the burning bodies stung her eyes as she looked around frantically to see if he¡¯d been taken down. But if he had been, the zombies would be all over him. Instead, they were heading towards her. She put her hands together and tried to form a fireball, hoping that Helios was just beyond her wall of ice, possibly obscured by the smoke. But nothing happened. Helios was either off-world or out of range. Too far away for her to mimic his power. He had left her here, defenseless. As the zombies closed in around her, she lifted off the ground, trying to fly out the ice prison, but she was too late. A rotting hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her back down into the mass of decaying bodies.


    <h3 style="text-align: center">GAME OVER

 The Trench

    April 9, 1999


    I sit in the back of the classroom gnawing the eraser off of my pencil ¨C a disgusting habit I¡¯ve been trying to kick. But today impatience overrules discipline and the concentration required to not chew the eraser eludes me. In less than five minutes, the bell will ring and I will board the school bus home. Once there, I will join an elite group of players selected to beta test the newest and most technologically advanced massively multiplayer online roleplaying game. The game is called Superheroes of the Apocalypse and features 3D graphics, customizable avatars, group campaigns, and in-game chat. Or so I¡¯ve been told. The game was released today to a select audience of which I was included solely because my stepfather is a contract lawyer with clients at a software company and he is constantly trying to score points with his reclusive stepdaughter. Unfortunately, the other players are not high school students and have had an eight-hour head start on me. Hence, my now eraserless pencil.


    Finally, the bell rings and I leap from my desk.


    ¡°Ana, can I speak with you for a minute, please?¡± asks Ms. Wilkins, my Freshman English teacher.


    I take a deep breath and trudge to her desk. I turn in all my assignments and ace every test, but she considers it her personal responsibility to get me to be more social.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am?¡± I clench my fist to avoid drumming my fingers against my thigh.


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned about your final presentation. The other members of your group have informed me that you aren¡¯t participating in the discussions.¡±


    No, they didn¡¯t. The group discussions so far have consisted of them discussing their personal lives and then promising to call each other later to ¡°figure out¡± the presentation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am. I will try to speak up more.¡±


    No, I won¡¯t. The other two girls in my group never stop talking about their boyfriends and their parties long enough for me to get a word in.


    ¡°Please do. The purpose of this assignment is for you to learn from each other¡¯s interpretation of the text. Everyone¡¯s opinion holds merit.¡±


    Except mine. No one cares what I think.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Now hurry up. You don¡¯t want to miss your bus.¡±


    Finally, something we agree on. I dash down the hallway, crossing my fingers that there will still be an empty row on the bus.


    I¡¯m not that lucky. Most rows are filled with giggling girls or joking jocks. Some are just filled with backpacks and backpack owners with defiant glares daring me to ask them to move over. As I near the back of the bus, I see two rows only partially occupied. One by Austin Bennet, varsity football player and every fourteen year old girl¡¯s dream. Surely, he is saving that seat for someone. Someone that¡¯s not me. In the other seat is Jake Ryan, a sixteen year old sophomore who recently transferred from somewhere up north. Rumor has it he was held back because he spent a year in juvenile detention. So those are my choices ¨C probable public rejection or possible mugging. There really is no contest here. Possible mugging it is.


    ¡°Can I sit here?¡±


    My voice is barely above a whisper. Jake grunts and moves over. As I sit down, several faces look in my direction, no doubt amazed at my bravery. But there is no bravery involved. At fourteen, I have no valuables on my person. Humble pride is all I¡¯ve got.


    The curious faces quickly lose interest as the bus lurches forward. I avoid eye contact with my seatmate while counting down the minutes until we reach my stop. A forty-five minute bus ride is all that separates me from Superheroes of the Apocalypse. As the anticipation builds, my left leg starts to shake and I fight to control the nervous tick. I try to shift to a more comfortable position and my hand brushes against Jake''s leg.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter. I¡¯m rewarded with a terse nod.


    Just as I¡¯m thinking Jake¡¯s social skills make me seem like a cheerleader, the bus shudders to a stop and smoke begins to fill the inside. Suddenly, the emergency door is wrenched open and everyone shuffles out, pushing me along with them. As I follow the crowd to where they have gathered on the shoulder, rumors have already begun to circulate. The engine exploded. The bus driver was smoking and dropped her cigarette. And, least likely of all, a student in the front row spontaneously combusted.


    ¡°Everyone move away from the road, but don''t wander off,¡± the driver says, attempting to control a busload of restless teenagers. ¡°We are just having a little engine trouble. I¡¯ve radioed for assistance and another bus will come pick us up as soon as it finishes its route.¡±


    I look around. There really isn''t anywhere to wander off to. A few houses, a cornfield, and infinite trees are all that can be seen. One of the many joys of living in rural America. I consider my options. By road, my house is about seven miles away. A half hour drive with all the bus stops in between. Add to that nearly an hour for another bus to be here to pick them up and I won¡¯t be home until after five. On the other hand, about a half mile into the woods is a storm gully which leads directly to my backyard. I could be home by four.


    I''ve always had a talent for disappearing into the background and that talent serves me well now. I look around for the bus driver and see she is currently being berated by Darla Middleton, soon-to-be head cheerleader. I¡¯m guessing this whole ordeal has caused her to be late for a spa appointment. I seize the opportunity and dart for trees.


    The half mile I estimated seems to be closer to a mile and I am about to turn back when I finally reach the oversized ditch. This part of the gully is deeper than the one in my backyard. I''m guessing about nine or ten feet compared to the six-foot gully I played in as a child. Also, the sides are much steeper than the one I used to box sled down. However, a few things work in my favor. First of all, it hasn''t rained in weeks and the gully is mostly dry except for a small stream in the center. Secondly, there are tree roots which form a ladder down the side. I sit on the ground and ease myself over the side until my foot finds the first root. Luckily, I have yet to reach the girly stage in which I care about things like getting dirt on my clothes.


    I''m about halfway to the bottom when I slip, landing on my bottom in the mud. I guess it wasn''t as dry as I thought.


    ¡°Careful,¡± says a voice from behind me. ¡°You wouldn''t want to get hurt out here. No one around to hear you scream and all that.¡±


    I turn around to see Jake standing a few feet away with the closest thing I''ve ever seen to a smile on his face. A serial killer grin, perhaps? I mentally amend possible mugging to possible murder.


    ¡°Wha...how did you get down here? Did you follow me?¡±


    ¡°Follow you? Give me a break. But like you, I have better things to do than wait around for another bus.¡± He offers a hand to help me up and I reluctantly accept. ¡°As to how I got down here, there''s a slope about twenty feet that way. I practically walked down.¡± He points behind him.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, trying and failing to wipe the mud from my shorts.


    ¡°We better hurry if we''re going to get home before the storm.¡±


    ¡°Storm? What storm?¡±


    He rolls his eyes. ¡°Don''t you watch the weather? Or look at the sky? There''s a massive anvil cloud just west of us. Should be here within the hour.¡±


    ¡°No, I don''t watch the weather because I''m not fifty. And I guess I was too distracted by the smoke billowing from the school bus to look at the clouds.¡± The first drop of rain hits my face and I start off in the direction of my house.


    About ten minutes later, I am immediately drenched by the relentless downpour. On a positive note, the rain has completely washed the mud from my clothes. I try to run but the tiny stream has quickly become a river and my splashing only succeeds in getting me wetter. I think I hear Jake laughing but I can''t be sure.


    Lightning strikes somewhere nearby and I yelp in surprise. Jake''s hand on my shoulder prompts a second squeal.


    ¡°This way,¡± he says, leading me to the side of the ditch. It¡¯s shallower here and less steep so climbing up is easier than my earlier descent.


    ¡°I can''t get to my house from here. I''m going to have to go back down.¡± I live in a gated community and the storm grate was the only way in from this direction.


    ¡°I know. But this storm is getting deadly. We need to take shelter until the worst is passed.¡±


    I take a longing look in the direction of my home and follow the potential serial killer wherever he might lead. Okay, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s not a serial killer. He¡¯s been going to Grandeville High all year and no one has turned up missing¡­yet.


    ¡°So where is this alleged shelter?¡± I look around and see nothing but soggy trees.


    ¡°There¡¯s a hunting cabin not far from here. Should be empty since it¡¯s off -season.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t it also be locked?¡±


    He flashes me a smile and keeps walking. I walk with him, reminding myself that breaking and entering is entirely different from murder.

 Hard Rain

    ¡°I should''ve stayed and waited for the bus.¡±


    I contemplate the strobe-like effect of the lightning reflecting off the raindrops. The sky is dark but I''m not sure if the sun has set or just been blacked out by the storm.


    ¡°And missed the light show?¡± Jake asks from his corner of the screened patio. It turns out his lock-picking skills were not as advertised.


    ¡°Mother Nature doesn''t have anything on the fireworks I''m in for if my mom gets home before I do.¡±


    ¡°Please. You live in Grand Estates. Discipline, like everything else there, must be done discreetly.¡±


    I want to argue with him, tell him I¡¯m in for the beating of a lifetime. Anything to wipe that mocking expression from his face. But he''s not wrong. As long as I¡¯m home for dinner, they probably won''t even notice I''m late. And even if they do, I won¡¯t be punished. My stepfather hasn¡¯t been married to my mom long enough to feel comfortable punishing me and my mom is too distracted by her new life to care. So really my only reason for wanting to get home is to play Superheroes of the Apocalypse. And I suspect learning of my nerdy addiction to video games will not make Jake mock me any less.


    ¡°What about your parents? Will you be in trouble?¡±


    Jake''s expression darkens and I immediately regret asking. Small talk is not a talent I possess, but it seemed like a safe enough question. This is why I prefer online chat rooms where the worst thing that could happen if you say something wrong is the other person logging off. But the way Jake looks now is giving me flashbacks of when he said no one could hear me scream.


    ¡°I¡¯m always in trouble.¡± He suddenly smiles, exposing a dimple at the corner of his mouth.


    I release the breath I hadn''t realized I was holding. Jake had come to stand next to me while we were talking and I now feel forced to make eye contact, something I usually avoid by looking anywhere else. His eyes, which I always thought to be brown, are actually a dark blue. Stormy, like the sky outside.


    ¡°It seems to be dying down. We should probably make a break for it.¡±


    I look outside to see he is right. It¡¯s still raining, but not pouring and the lightning has stopped. For now, anyway. I nod and we start off in the direction of the gully.


    ¡°So how did you know about the cabin anyway?¡±


    ¡°My dad grew up not far from here and his dad used to take him hunting. When we moved back, he insisted on continuing the tradition despite my lack of interest.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    As I listen to him talk, I realize he sounds nothing like the felon everyone makes him out to be. I want to ask him about his life before moving to Grandeville but I don''t want to risk bringing back that dark look from earlier. He may not be a criminal, but he is still downright scary.


    ¡°Convenient,¡± I mutter, then something occurs to me. ¡°How did you know where I live?¡±


    ¡°Duh, we ride the same bus, remember?¡±


    I remember, I just never thought he noticed where I got off. I am usually one of the first to get on the bus and I sit near the front. When annoying teachers don''t delay me, that is.


    ¡°Besides, I live right behind you,¡± he continues. ¡°On the other side of the fence.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    While the subdivision I live in is mostly surrounded by woods, there is a small RV park amongst the trees about two hundred feet from my backyard. I can''t think of anything else to say at this point so we continue the walk in silence.


    When we reach the gully, I am dismayed to see the small stream has become a rushing river. There is no way I am getting through the storm grate now.


    ¡°That was my way in.¡± I look helplessly at Jake.


    ¡°I know another way. Follow me.¡± He takes off in the direction of the RV park. So this is how it ends, I think as I follow the virtual stranger home.


    ¡°So this is where you live?¡±


    I try not to sound disdainful. The RV really isn''t much smaller than the apartment my mom and I lived in before she remarried.


    ¡°Home sweet home,¡± Jake says, rifling between one of the storage compartments on the outside of the RV. I wonder if he''s going to invite me in. And whether or not I will say yes if he does.


    But he doesn''t. He just makes an ¡°Aha¡± sound as he pulls out a hammer. Getting bludgeoned with a hammer is really not my first choice of ways to die, but I guess murder victims can''t be choosers.


    ¡°What''s that for?¡± I am impressed by my ability to ask without stuttering.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±


    He heads toward the fence in my backyard and begins pulling nails out with the hammer. Within minutes, he has one of the planks removed and is starting on the second.


    ¡°It turns out the hunting cabin has better security than your gated community,¡± he laughs.


    ¡°Why do I get the feeling you''ve done this before?¡±


    ¡°My girlfriend lives here and her dad doesn''t exactly approve of our relationship.¡±


    I don''t know why I am surprised, and a little disappointed, to hear he has a girlfriend. He may not have blond hair and baby blue eyes like Austin Bennet, but the slightly curly, almost black hair he tries unsuccessfully to tuck behind his ears along with the recently discovered dark blue eyes certainly qualify him as ¡°tall, dark, and handsome.¡± I wonder why I never noticed before.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, feeling suddenly awkward as he removes the second board leaving an opening large enough for me to slip through. I wonder if this is what the end of a date feels like, with the girl wondering if the guy is going to kiss her. Except this isn''t a date and he''s not going to kiss me. ¡°I guess I will see you Monday. On the bus.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± He replaces the board and I can no longer see him. ¡°Just don''t be so scared to sit down next time.¡± He starts hammering and I am saved from having to respond.