Coma Wagon

Jeanette is not living anymore. She's surviving, running, hiding. All that she knew vanished and what remains doesn't make much sense anymore. Freedom and trust are as difficult to find as warmth and shelter in this desolated landscape. Through her strange encounters, she tries to piece together a frightening puzzle. Pushed to the brink, some emerge as heroes, others plunge into madness. Jeanette is skating on that thin line between both. Fear, doubt, more running . . . With her trusty companion Rufus by her side, she refuses to give up. She sees things, impossible things. Things that should not exist, yet that are slowly taking over. She has to tell someone, anyone, everyone. She will find hope in the face of despair, and light in the darkest hour of mankind. But mankind might not have that much longer. All Jeanette has are the dreams of her former life, and even those are starting to fade. Welcome to Coma Wagon: The realm of nightmares on a never ending trail toward the truth . . .

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COMA WAGONBy Patricia FosterAuthorHouseCopyright © 2013 Patricia FosterAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4817-5685-3 CHAPTER 1She crawled underneath the old Datsun pickup. The roughasphalt scraped the skin of her stomach beneath theworn t-shirt. Closely she scrutinized the building across the streetfor signs of movement. A difficult task as the moon was only aquarter full tonight. Easily they could be lurking in the shadowsundetected. No tell-tale aura that outlined them in the light of day.Her stomach rumbled. She knew there was food in that place.There had to be. Maybe a good variety of can goods, chips, bottleddrinks and jerky. How long had it been since she tasted meat?A small town combination Diner and General Store. The bigcities had been wiped clean of such human establishments. Thegreat monoliths with their towering spires now commonplace. NewYork, Dallas, Boston, Miami and who knew how many others hadbecome their cities now.But here, in the more rural areas. And she wasn't even sureexactly where she was anymore. One of the Dakota's maybe?Wyoming? It was getting cold here. Wherever here might be.She had become the scurrying rat, traveling this way and that,scavenging for any small morsel and comfort.It was most likely a trap. Had she not seen it before? Somewandering, starving innocent lured in to never wander back outagain. She was smarter than that. She knew how they operated.Her stomach growled again.An image of Randy flashed through her thoughts. A memory ofthem lying in bed as the sun came up. He was smiling and teasingher about her less than fashionable, rounded figure. Her broad hipsand rounded ass. She had smacked him smartly with a pillow. Hislaughter had filled the room as he swatted it aside, gathering herup in his arms, kissing her. How gently he had made love to her,assuring her over and over she was beautiful and perfect.What would he think about her now? Long gone was thevoluptuous body and in its place was a tiny scarecrow of a thingwith ratted hair and skin covered in a layer of dirt.She wiped the tears from her cheeks. It was best not to thinkabout Randy now.Gathering her courage she quickly made her way across the street.The door swung open easily with a slight twist of the knob.Peering around in the darkness she slowly made her way inside.Surely there were candles or even a flashlight about somewhere.She dare not light them though. If she truly had gotten luckyand was alone in here, a beacon like that would bring them quick.Stumbling through the long forgotten tables and chairs, she felt herway to what she hoped was the general store side. The darkness inhere was thick and heavy. She could not even see the fingers shewaved in front of her face. It could take hours for her eyes to adjust.Did she have hours? What a luxury that would be.There was a loud series of thumps to her right and she slappedher hand over her mouth to hold back a scream while she nervouslyback peddled and fell over a chair.They were here! They had come! She tried to quell her risingpanic. She was surely too insubstantial now to keep, slowly andignorantly being drained of life. No. She would be snapped up. Aquick and tasty snack.Well, maybe it was time. She'd made it five years longer thananyone she had known. The guilt overrode her fear.* * *Randy was sleeping so soundly. His hair tousled and hisbreathing so deep. He had not gotten up for work. Playing sick orhooky, she wasn't sure. She had tried to wake him. Nudged him alittle, brushed back his hair kissing his forehead and softly callinghis name. He slept on. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well, she mused.She hadn't tried to hard to get him up really. He looked so peaceful.She had just left him there assuming he would rise in his own time.If only she had known. She would have slapped his face,pounded his chest, screamed in his ear. But she hadn't known. Whocould know that this day was different from any other? That theworld she knew was about to be over? And so she'd left him there.She had gone off to the bathroom to pee, brushed her teeth andhair, washed her face and applied a light lipstick. She pulled onsome old jeans and a t-shirt, popped in a toaster pastry, poured aglass of apple juice, glanced at the newspaper headline about someepidemic or something in New York, snatched up the grocery listand was out the door.There had barely been any traffic and the store had only afew customers making their way up and down the aisles. She hadconsidered this a blessing at the time. It made quick work of whatcould normally take hours. If only she hadn't been so self-absorbedand actually paid attention. In truth, had she had taken the time tolook outside of herself and her own little world and into the largerone around her, things could be so different now.Randy was gone by the time she returned home. She wentinside to get him to help carry in the bags from the car. Both bedand house were empty. She had been irritated at the time. Hehadn't left a note or even bothered to call her cell phone and say hewas going out and how long he'd be.* * *She felt horrible now at the memory of the way she hadmumbled petty little indignations about his behavior under herbreath as she put the cereal on the cupboard shelf.Randy was gone. But he hadn't left on his own. By the nextmorning, if there was anyone besides her left in the city, she wasunaware. They had all just fallen asleep and disappeared.CHAPTER 2The thumps came again, jarring her from her memories.It was the wind! It was buffeting against the big picturewindows! She let out the breath she had been holding. She was safehere for now.She wasn't sure how long she sat there on the floor. Her headjerking up every now and then when she dozed off. Looking foranything to eat in this blackness was futile. She would have to waituntil dawn. It was only a few more hours.Slowly she began to scoot herself backward hoping to comeup against a wall. It offered her little security but felt better inher mind than sitting in the middle of the room. She bumped upagainst something. A booth! Even better! She climbed up onto thecushioned bench and curled up, pulling the table top closer to coverher.She knew she shouldn't sleep, but it was warm in here andit had been so long since she had something this soft to rest on.Just for a few hours, she told herself as her eyelids grew heavy andclosed.* * *He hadn't made it home for dinner and he wasn't answeringhis phone. After a fitful night of sleep, she was furious. Seethis ... This was a prime example of why she refused to marry him.He just went off at times on his obsessive little binges and forgotall about the feelings of everyone else. It was as if they ceased tomatter. Although, he had never been gone overnight like thisbefore. Should she start checking the hospitals and police stations?She began to worry. This in turn made her even angrier because heshould know damn well she would worry!She sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen spooning cereal intoher mouth, viciously chewing each bite. Oh he was going to hearabout this! Of that you can be sure!Agitated, she flipped rapidly through the channels ... SomeCrime Drama, buy a vacuum, miracle wrinkle cream, a sitcomwith very pretty people trying to convince the viewer they aresuper nerds, get your rock hard abs, another Crime Drama, cleanyour grout, white noise, white noise, white noise. She checked thechannel numbers. This is where the news should be. Weren't theyon twenty-four hours a day? Noting the time, she flipped down tothe local morning shows. Nothing.She reached for the phone to call and lodge a complaint withher service provider. No dial tone. Just an annoying beep. Damn.Her cell phone was still upstairs on the bedside table.She shut the TV off and stared at the soggy remnants left inher bowl. Weird. Only the preprogrammed shows were working.Weren't the live one's mostly filmed in New York? She rememberedthe epidemic headline from the morning before.Today's paper should be on the front porch by now. Therewasn't one. Of course! The one time she actually wanted to read thedamn thing and it wasn't delivered! She started to step back insidewhen the silence struck her as odd. She glanced at her watch. It was7:15 am. There should be neighbors leaving for work and schoolchildren standing on the corner waiting for their buses. Was this aholiday she was unaware of? Had she lost time somewhere? Thatthought scared her. Had Randy only been gone a day? Oh jeeze,Jeanette you need to stop this! You haven't gone insane!As she glanced off down the road, what she saw made herquestion that last statement. Perhaps she had.It was like she was looking at a long stretch of dusty highwaywhere the sun was beating down. The little shimmering way thelight warbled in such heat on the pavement. A desert mirage. Onlythis was New England not Arizona and it was fall besides. Maybe50 degrees at most this morning.She felt the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standup. She stepped inside, bolting the door and leaning against it.Something was terribly wrong and it was obvious Randy probablywasn't coming home.CHAPTER 3She rolled over, banging her elbow against the table top. Shenoticed the difference immediately. Dawn had come.The windows were covered in cheap vinyl blinds. Enough lightescaped through them for her to be able to navigate the roomssafely.In the General Store portion she found a good solid backpack.The kind true hikers liked to wear. She filled it up with can goods,and other assorted processed foods. Not exactly healthy, but therewasn't anything humanly edible growing in the fields anymore. Shemanaged to find some clean clothes, meant for a preteen child thatfit. Jeans, t-shirt, heavy flannel shirt and even a good down filledcoat and hiking boots. And then there was the water. A luxurynow. She stuffed as many of the small bottles as she could into thepack. She knew the big gallon jugs would be too much for her andthere was no way she could encumber herself with a cart. A shamereally. Running water like electricity was something she had oncetaken for granted. Now it only came dropping from clouds or ifyou found a river or lake. Somehow, someway it always surprisedher that when she thought she'd die of dehydration, a soda machinewas always on the horizon. Of course all the teeth in her mouthwere slowly going bad, but she was thankful Americans had lovedtheir soda dispensing machines. Occasionally she would even findwater or energy drinks in them as well. But mostly soda and thatwas okay.She made several trips carrying gallons of water to the oversizedsink in the Diner kitchen. She filled it almost halfway beforeremoving her old clothes and climbing in. She had found both soapand shampoo on the store shelves and couldn't resist the urge to beclean. To feel, well ... human again. It had been months.She had just finished dressing and was trying to coax a brushthrough her albeit clean tangle of hair. Idly wondering if she mightbe safe here at least a few more days. Because in truth she wasloathe to leave such accommodations behind. They were few andfar between. Her head snapped up and the brush dropped from herhand. Was that the little bell on the diner door tinkling?Crouching behind the counter, she peeked around the side.Nothing looked different. Maybe she had imagined it? No! There!In a sliver of sunlight coming through the blinds she saw a bit ofwarbled rainbow. Similar to something you would see on bubblesyou were blowing.She reached for the cabinet door under the counter, hoping itwould open without protest. It did. Two long shelves inside. Shecarefully placed the backpack on the upper one and squeezedherself onto the lower one, closing the door behind her.Straining to hear any sound besides her own breathing, therewas only silence. Did it know she was there? The fresh smell ofsoap and shampoo, the discarded pile of clothes, the water jugsaround the sink. It had to know someone had been there. Was ittoo much to hope it thought she had gone?She lay there what seemed like hours in the quiet. Her legs andarms ached from being cramped in the tight space. If it found hershe would die in here. Die in this large wooden box. How fittingreally. It was rather like a coffin.She heard the bell on the door again. Had it left? She laythere a few more minutes hearing nothing and decided to take herchances.Pushing open the cabinet door she scooted sideways and outonto the floor. Raising herself into a crouched position, she pulledthe backpack off the top shelf.She felt the change in the air behind her. An icy coolness slowlystarted creeping up her back. She shivered and turned her head tolook over her shoulder. There it was at the end of the long counter.She had never seen one this close before. It was like looking at alarge, rounded mound of crystal clear water that was slowly movingthis way and that. As it came towards her she knew she shouldmove, but her body would not obey. The cold was full on her now.It formed some semblance of an arm and hand and reached forher. She stared at it helplessly, teeth chattering. The water/mirage/hand thing closed on her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Shescreamed at the searing pain that shot through her hand and arm.The thing was burning her! Some baser instinct took over and shegrabbed the backpack with her other hand. Jerking it up, she swungwildly and made contact with the main body of it. A solid thumpthat caused it to step back, releasing its hold on her.No time to stop to think. She just turned and ran. Throughthe interior of the kitchen and then a door. She fumbled with it,flipped the lock and was outside. Running wildly down the street,dragging the backpack behind her. No time to stop and put it onher shoulders. No time to examine the injured arm she held againsther chest. No time to do anything but run. How fast these thingswere she did not know. But she had heard they were weaker in theday. But then there were the Sniffers. She had been told storiesabout the Sniffers. Oh God! Please don't let it send a sniffer afterher! There would be no escape from its hunting skills!Still she ran.CHAPTER 4It was late afternoon when she collapsed in a small copseof trees. She simply could not take another step. She layin a pile of dead leaves completely devoid of energy.Her left arm was thrown out to the side of her head. Theburning feeling still lingered. There were no jagged edges to thewound. The skin had been stripped away in a precise and perfectpattern. As if a thick red ribbon or band had been placed around it.She had to get up. The sniffers would be on her soon if shedidn't. As frightened as she had been of that thing back there, deathfor her at its hands would have been quick and almost painless.Not so with the vicious, dog-like beasts that were used to hunt thehuman remnants down, ripping away at their prey's flesh with razorsharp teeth. She shuddered. Better to die of anything else really.Watching as the trees shook their leaves upon her, wonderingnot for the first time why she simply didn't give up. Everyone shehad loved was gone, along with all she had known of her life before.Why did she fight so hard? She was going to die anyway in theend. Maybe today she would be lucky and maybe tomorrow too.Maybe a few more years even. But why bother? What was she sodetermined to live for? They had come and taken over everything.Spreading across the country, and she had to assume the world, ina great wave. Soon there would be no place they didn't occupy andthey hunted down and disposed of every human straggler that hadmanaged to survive their original airborne assault.Rolling to her back; her eyes searched the puffy white cloudsabove the trees. Why me? She whispered. Why did I get to live?She received no answer. After a few minutes her eyes closed inexhaustion and she fell asleep. Her cheeks wet with bitter tears. (Continues...)Excerpted from COMA WAGON by Patricia Foster. Copyright © 2013 Patricia Foster. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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