Frostarc Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Others Say

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Fear

  Chapter Two - Ghost Town

  Chapter Three - The Boy

  Chapter Four - Confusion

  Chapter Five - The Ranch

  Chapter Six - Moving Onward

  Chapter Seven - Secrets

  Chapter Eight - Fray

  Chapter Nine - The Caravan

  Chapter Ten - A Plan

  Chapter Eleven - Shots Fired

  Chapter Twelve - Glacier Crossing

  Chapter Thirteen - Heartache

  Chapter Fourteen - Port Town

  Chapter Fifteen - Flight

  Chapter Sixteen - Uncertainty

  About the Author

  Thank You

  FROSTARC

  SECLUSION BOOK ONE

  by ARTHUR McMAHON

  Others Say

  “Arthur McMahon’s storytelling is both viciously precise and wildly explosive at the same time—like a gunshot of sci-fi blasting from each page.”

  -Stuart Thaman, bestselling author of Shadowlith

  "I really enjoyed Frostarc…a refreshing new take on zombies. McMahon writes great dialogue and setting. His descriptions are beautiful.”

  -Christine Steendam, author of Shadows of the Unseen

  Copyright © 2012 Arthur McMahon

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0615753922

  ISBN-13: 978-0615753928

  Cover illustration by Eran Fowler.

  Book design and production by Bald Crow Publishing.

  For mom and dad.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fear

  The snow had ceased, and his truck was warming up. Inside his tattered cabin, Kozz prepared to leave on his monthly supply run. Staring into the bathroom mirror his fingertips brushed through a buzz cut of salt and pepper hair, then across the sandpaper stubble of his cheeks. Silver eyes and a strong jaw line gave youth to an otherwise aged face, and his block of a head balanced atop a spud-like body. Pale skin stretched tight around a growing waist where it once was pulled neat and fit around a warrior's physique.

  “This mug ain't what it used to be, but I'll make it presentable enough to head into town.”

  After shaving Kozz walked into the main room and grabbed his belongings off the round table next to the small gas-fire stove. A change of clothes, a few meal bars, and his knife. He tripped over a stack of tabloid magazines, the same stack he told himself years ago he would find a better place for.

  Kozz gave a last look around his home and felt for the familiar cold metal surface at his side as he walked out the door. Sometimes Kozz could be forgetful, but he never forgot her.

  The crisp sting of the air awakened his senses unlike any cup of coffee could, making the hairs on his body stand erect at its command. The air was calm, but its stagnant chill was ever present. Kozz reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a fat stogie, then he lit it up. The heat from the first puff warms my bones like drinking a cup of hot cocoa. The smoke danced in circles and waves as Kozz exhaled.

  The solitary man examined the clear view of white that stretched all around the horizon, meeting the blue sky with a clarity that only such a still day could bring. Most days were too dangerous to travel through the stark wilderness with the constant drapes of snow burying anything that stood still for too long. Only the warmers placed within and around his home kept Kozz from such a fate. The weathered chrome towers passed to each other a current of warmth which formed a bubble around the cabin, turning ice and snow into puddles.

  The drive to town would take thirty hours on a good day and stopping for a rest was not an option. Kozz's rig would be engulfed by powder in minutes if a storm flared up while he was taking a nap. Checking on the integrity of his 200-ton H2O delivery truck one last time before leaving did not sound like such a bad idea. Kozz pulled in one final puff before tossing his cigar out into a drift of snow where it melted its way towards the soil. He walked down the steps that led away from his house and put his boot down onto the wooden tread where his foot broke through a rotten board that he had been meaning to replace. “Goddamn piece of shit,” he cried as he tumbled to the ground.

  Being taller than most and as broad as an oil drum, Kozz found that many conventional constructions were not built to accommodate his size. He sat there for a moment looking at the damage, more worried about the busted stairs than his sprained and scratched ankle. This damn house needs some work, but it'll have to wait until I get back. Kozz lifted himself up on his left foot, testing weight on his damaged right ankle. Pain shot up through his leg. Walking was not going to be easy. Kozz hobbled over to his large, ash-colored truck and grabbed a rag from under the passenger seat. He sat down and wrapped the rag around his ankle, filling it with snow to reduce the swelling. Moe and the guys are gonna riot when they see me like this. He stood up and limped his way around the side of the rig to check the energy cells. Large red lettering and symbols were faded along the behemoth's side, relics of a previous owner. Kozz reached the energy cell compartment and could hear their quiet buzz, then he opened the hatch and saw that the deep-blue electric glow of the two cells was healthy, the whirring buzz was another good sign. A slow walk-around showed the tires and treads to all be in good shape. The life-water canisters were full and secure. Kozz was satisfied.

  He pulled his heavy body up and into the driver's cab. Two large seats rested behind the controls, and behind them was a small room filled edge-to-edge with a bed and a small shelf that contained a variety of editorial magazines alongside a slim selection of romance novels. Kozz threw his duffel bag on the passenger seat and felt for her at his side one more time before shutting the door and pulling back the gear lever.

  Dials adjusted along the dashboard as the gears changed at Kozz's command. Digital displays danced along the windshield, several with faulty readings and one that flickered frustratingly at the crest of his vision despite his many failed attempts to disconnect the broken display. Numbers climbed as the speed increased, soaring upwards as the truck powered its way up the first few large snowbanks before it gained momentum.

  The ashen truck was hauling over 150 tons of liquid water that Kozz had collected from the ice around his home, and the cargo was being delivered to a warehouse near Edgetown where it would then be sent abroad across the planet and to other worlds. Hydrogen had become a major source of energy, and water was needed on other planets. Erde was overpopulated, and Torris was dry. Frostarc served as humanity's fountain of life.

  Water had been scarce in centuries past. Colonization of Frostarc was humankind's first attempt at spreading to another world, and the dire need of a dehydrated Erde outweighed the risks involved. The first colonists were memorialized as heroes.

  The thirty hour drive was not necessary. Kozz could have chosen to live closer to the distribution warehouse and turn in more life-water at a faster pace, but he had chosen solitude over convenience. Most other harvesters had personal cargo-grade airships to transfer their loads more frequently and with greater speed, but Kozz did not want the money. He only needed something to occupy his time and enough cash to get by. The excuse to fire up his rig and tear through the snow drifts was enough reason to make the trip. The power was exhilarating, something he always thought a person could not feel properly without being connected to the ground.

  The sun had only just risen as Kozz set off. The truck had taken time to power up to full throttle, plowing through the snow drifts and skidding across the glaciers. A retractable pilot mounted at the front of the vehicle wedged through the ice and pushed everything else out of its way. The self-righting propulsion system on the truck's underside allowed Kozz to turn in any direction
at full speed without worry of capsizing. Cruising at a comfortable 287 mph, he grabbed a meal bar from his bag. They'll never make this processed shit taste as good as the real stuff, but Lord knows it's what keeps me going out here. Kozz flipped the cruise control switch, kicked his feet up on the dashboard, and flipped open a magazine entitled The Letterhead, continuing an article he had started earlier.

  The attacks on the Insurrectionist Moon have accomplished nothing. Presider Conway and the Cooperation need to wipe out the entire world of rebel hooligans so that we, the people, can make proper use of one of the only known habitable locations in the galaxy. We must move forward on this issue.

  Sure, twenty years ago the Presider's Enforcers were able to eliminate many of the highest crime lords that rule the planet, but what have they done lately? Our efforts have become ineffective and meaningless. The major threats we were able to rid ourselves of have been replaced and are now stronger than ever.

  We cannot expect to live in a peaceful, unified society with a world of outlaws and dissenters living at our front door. It is time to end the petty attacks and negotiations. I call upon you Presider Conway, I call upon you the people of the Cooperation, because— it is time for war! Let us use our might to end the threat of the Insurrectionist Moon before it grows any stronger. Let us end this now!

  “Let's take over that godforsaken hellhole.” Kozz growled as he flipped through the pages. Every last one of those fuckers should be murdered, thought Kozz, every hovel they hide in destroyed. The organized crime and society built upon deception and greed that they have thrived on needs to crumble. The Presider has taken the issue seriously in the past, but his recent lack of effort has allowed their economy and crime lord hierarchy to rebound. We aren't doing enough. Painful memories enraged Kozz's emotions, but before the thoughts consumed him he popped a couple of prescribed pills and they calmed him. He put the magazine down and shuffled about for something else to read, choosing a novel with a woman in tears on the cover as a man above soars away in an airship, titled My Passion, My Love, My War.

  The further south he traveled, the more signs of life there were. The truck rolled through numerous paths in the deep snow left behind by animals and brown patches of shrubs became more common. At one point Kozz saw smoke on the horizon that he attributed to another harvester's fire-warmed home. The sun had set midway through the journey, but it would rise again before Kozz arrived at his destination. The short days of this small planet were something Kozz had never grown used to.

  Small cabins appeared in the distance leading to a view of Edgetown along the horizon with reds and oranges coloring the sky as the sun began to rise over the sleepy tourist village. Few lights could be seen amongst the buildings, and the streets looked awfully quiet. Must be due to the early morning hours. Kozz's truck kept barreling along right past the town and towards Moe's Warehouse which resided another hour south.

  Kozz arrived at the front gate to the complex and let himself through, as usual. The building was a massive square of blue and gray corrugated metal which was topped with a high-peaked roof to keep off the weight of the snow. He drove over to the pumps near the front entrance.

  Kozz stepped out of the truck and tentatively put his feet on the ground, feeling that the injured ankle had become stiff. The pain had subsided a bit, but he packed up another rag with snow and tied it around the swollen injury, then he pulled out a stogie from his jacket pocket and lit it up. The wind had increased and he needed the smokey heat to keep away the chill.

  As expected, no one came out to greet him. Kozz limped around to the rear of his truck and hooked up his cargo to the warehouse pumps. As he neared the building Kozz felt a sound emanating through the wall like the muddled voices of a telepod left on in another room. The unintelligible sound echoed in his ear, its waves vibrating in his chest. Either Moe's ripping into somebody or there's a party going on that I wasn't told about.

  Sounds of flowing pipe-water and the purr of the pumps faded as Kozz made his way over to the front door, his attention focused on the words coming from within the building. Ice had cracked the frame in several places and pushed the door away from its flush build. Kozz pressed the door latch, not aware that his other hand was feeling for her smooth surface at his side. The door slid open, and out blared a cascade of noise. Befuddled by the river of sound that crashed upon him, Kozz backed away from the door, clapping hands over both ears. Words blasted tremors through his body, some catching his attention: disease, dangerous, quarantine.

  “...pending the status of your infection...”

  “What the fuck? The hell is it talking about?”

  Far enough away to shake off his daze, Kozz listened more carefully to the message. A female's voice read off a script, monotone and sterile.

  Warning to all who receive this message. Warning. A fatal disease is spreading. This is a worldwide pandemic. The disease is extremely dangerous and highly contagious in numerous regards. It is recommended that all who receive this message avoid all others who exhibit strange behavior and move to one of the two quarantine zones. Quarantine zone locations: GRID ID 1128-34 located within Port Town, GRID ID 1189-09 located within the city of Quartz. You will be treated and released pending the status of your infection.

  “Fatal disease...a pandemic.” This is insane. Moe and the others laugh their asses off and hop around like little bunnies in heat when they get me with one of their pranks, but this is too much, even for them.

  Kozz tore off a couple of strips of wet cloth from the rag around his ankle and stuffed his ears as best he could, dampening the sound a bit. He approached the entrance once more and the noise again pierced into his mind and the waves of vibrations shook his bones. Kozz walked in and saw no lights on within the entire warehouse. The doorway at his back allowed in as much daylight as it could, casting Kozz's shadow across the cement floor as his broad silhouette stood over the threshold. The place smelled of cold metal as it always had.

  The minuscule amount of light was absorbed by the blackness of the building's interior, but with what little light there was Kozz could see stacks of fallen boxes that had strewn their metal bits, machine parts, and packing materials all about the floor. A second look made it seem as if they had not only fallen, but had been pushed over. It almost appeared as if someone had been rifling through the boxes, searching recklessly for what was within them.

  Kozz tried to shout out the names of the people he knew at the warehouse, but even to himself his words were inaudible, engulfed and defeated by the roaring monotone voice.

  “Warning. A fatal disease is spreading...”

  I've got to shut this shit off. Kozz had been to the warehouse many times before and knew the layout well. His eyes could not see far in the darkness, so his memory placed the floor design at the front of his thoughts. Up above on the grated walkway sat some sort of control panel, probably what he could use to shut off the message and hopefully turn on the lights. He started walking forward to where he knew the stairway should be, but after taking a few steps something caught his eye.

  In the corner of his vision, around the other side of some of the fallen boxes, was a horrid sight. A man, a corpse, lay eviscerated and disemboweled on the hard floor.

  Images from Kozz's past overloaded his mind and made him vomit, the memories causing his heart to ache as if there were a hole in it. He ignored the pain, burying it deep within himself alongside all the thoughts of his past. Ten years of confined hatred and sorrow pushed on the walls of his mind, threatening to break loose and consume Kozz. The weight on his heart had grown heavier with each passing day, and the doctor was his only help. Thank the Lord for those pills.

  Kozz shook his head, gathering himself. He recognized the dead man's face, but had never known his name. The murder weapon, a jagged piece of scrap sheet metal, was tossed away from the body. Kozz was familiar with death and murder, and he knew that this man had died recently, very recently. Poor guy probably got axed not more than a day ago.
>
  He reached for her grip at his side and pulled her from the holster at his hip. Red. A scarlet six-shooter that Kozz had called his for most of his life. In a world where lasers had long ago replaced bullets, she was considered an antique, a collectable by most, but Kozz had kept her in working condition, as had his father before him. Her sunset shine coruscated in the darkness with the little bit of light that reached her from the outside.

  He walked forward, keeping his senses alert while trying to defeat the blackness and deafening noise that surrounded him. He approached the lift assuming it would not work with the lights shut off like they were, and he was right. Kozz felt his way along the side of the elevator and across some metal beams until he felt the upward angle of the staircase railing. He climbed the steel-grated staircase, pain shooting up from his swollen ankle, until he reached the upper landing.

  Kozz had never been on the grated walkway, but his memory from below guided him to take a right at the staircase and then an immediate left at the first intersection. He prowled his way along the path, trying to sense for anything out of the ordinary, holding the cold railing in his hand as he walked. The railing veered to the right, and that was where Kozz knew he should turn left. Just as he started down the next pathway he felt something move.

  He did not quite see it, but he had sensed it nonetheless. Red was up somewhere in the darkness, pointing in the direction of the culprit. “Show yourself,” Kozz bellowed, his voice again swallowed by the noise around him, but as if answering his roar two faint white lights lit up not too far down the path and they leaped towards him. Kozz fired, but the lights disappeared and he was not sure if his shot had hit. Then the thing jumped on Kozz. It was small and scrawny, but it felt like a man. The thing crawled over the top of Kozz and firmly clutched his neck with its boney hands. Kozz tore at the arms, but they would not budge. The pain in his left ankle increased with the extra weight on his shoulders. Still holding Red in his hand, Kozz grabbed behind his shoulders and gripped the thin man's under arms, then bent forward and flipped the man over and onto a solid object that he did not know was there.