Introduction/ Prologue
My name is Bellamy Winters, I love baking and coffee cake is my jam- not literal jam but you get it. But alas, when you're constantly running for your life, baking is the last thing on your mind.
Did I mention my travelling companion is a grumpy-faced, ex-military Infected, complete with a sexy accent and a bad attitude? He's about as pleasant as a porcupine in a balloon factory. But hey, at least he's handy in a fight. Who needs a normal life when you can have this level of chaos? Sure, I miss my coffee cake and my silicone rubber spatulas, but survival trumps coffee cake.
Right?
July 2009...
Every time I walked down the streets of Oak Valley I could feel their eyes on me. They saw me as the girl whose parents died, the one who was left to carry the burden of sorrow and loss. Living in a small town made it even harder to escape their sympathetic glances and sorrowful stares.
Three years had passed since that fateful day, but the wound still felt fresh. I had lost the two most important people in my life, and no amount of time would ever make that pain go away. The memories haunted me every day, and in a town where everyone knew everyone else's business, there was no escaping it, especially on their anniversary.
It felt like a never-ending cycle of grief, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stuck in it forever. People say time heals all wounds, but sometimes it felt like time was just a cruel reminder of what I had lost.
Living in a small town has its perks, but it also has its drawbacks. The same people who offered me comfort and support after my parents died were now the same people who couldn't help but bring up the past every time they saw me. Their good memories meant that I could never escape my past, no matter how much I tried.
"You're home early? Ah thought you were goin' to the mall with your friends."
"Why? So, the entire town could whisper and point behind my back," I grumbled.
"You know what I think we need?" She pulled me into her arms, giving me a tight squeeze. "My famous peach cobbler pie. Why don't you run back and pick me up some nice, plump peaches."
"You can't fix everythin' with baked goods, Aunt Grace."
"Sho' Ah can. Now, scoot," she says with a wink, shooing me out of the kitchen.
I wandered through the rows of peach trees, enjoying the sun's warmth on my skin, I couldn't resist plucking a plump peach from one of the branches. The sweet, juicy flavour exploded in my mouth as I savoured each bite. Ripe peach. Yum...
Suddenly, I heard a low growl that seemed to be coming from over the fence, from old man Rust's yard. It sounded like a dog. Old man Rust didn't have a dog. I shrugged it off and went back to picking the peaches. After a while, the growl soon grew louder and more feral making it hard to ignore.
Maybe he did get a dog.
I put my basket down and peered over the top of the fence. My eyes widened and my blood ran cold. Old man Rust was writhing on the ground, his body contorting and convulsing in a way that defied all logic. His skin was rippling and bulging, and I could see sharp fangs and claws emerging from his fingers and toes. His growls and snarls grew more ominous and feral with each passing moment, and his eyes were bloodied and now filled with a primal hunger and madness.
Suddenly, Old Man Rust's wife appeared on the porch. I wanted to tell her to go back inside, to run, to call the sheriff, the exorcist, but I was too scared.
"Rust darlin' did you— oh my God!" Tears streamed down her face as her hands shot up over her mouth.
Suddenly he flips over on all fours looking crazier than a bedbug in a belfry, and foaming at the mouth. I didn't stick around to see what happened next. Soon I could hear his wife's deafening screams and pleas for help as I bolted toward the safety of my home. My heart pounding and my mind reeling with disbelief at what I had just witnessed.
What did I witness?
