Contestant #4043: Round 1

By Mason Dodd

Laura, 15, wakes up one morning to an empty house. Her dad’s gone, her mom’s gone, her brothers are gone and even her elderly grandmother is nowhere to be seen. Wondering if they’ve been evacuated due to a hurricane forecasted to make landfall the next day, she hits town hoping to find answers, but is only left with more questions as it soon becomes clear that it isn’t only her family that are missing but everyone. Unsure what’s going on, she’s forced into leaving the only home she’s ever known in search of answers to a mystery that’s only growing. Little does she know the game has already started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mason Dodd
• Release date: May 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370635443

Mason Dodd

I like writing. It's my only hobby.

Book preview

Contestant #4043

Round 1

~Contestants of the Holocaust~

By

Mason Dodd

PUBLISHED BY:

Mason Dodd

Contestant #4043

Contestants of the Holocaust series

Copyright © 2017 by Mason Dodd

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author’s Note

This is an action/adventure/survival story with apocalyptic themes and elements of horror. This is a young adult/ new adult novel for mature audiences (15 years and up recommended). There’s coarse language, sexual references, drug references and violence. Please avoid purchase if you find any of the above off-putting.

Synopsis

Laura, 15, wakes up one morning to an empty house. Her dad’s gone, her mom’s gone, her brothers are gone and even her elderly grandmother is nowhere to be seen. Wondering if they’ve been evacuated due to a hurricane forecasted to make landfall the next day, she hits town hoping to find answers, but is only left with more questions as it soon becomes clear that it isn’t only her family that are missing but everyone. Unsure what’s going on, she’s forced into leaving the only home she’s ever known in search of answers to a mystery that’s only growing. Little does she know the game has already started.

Chapter 1 – Dawn of the Silence

I don’t know what to do. This morning when I woke up, everyone was gone. My mom, my dad, my two brothers, even grandma, and she never leaves the house.

It took me a little while to realize at first. It’s summer break and I’ve been sleeping in so late that everyone else’s day has already started by the time I get up. But I know dad’s not at work because his car is still here. I know mom isn’t shopping with my brothers because her car is still here, too, and I know grandma hasn’t left the house because—like I said—she never does. So yeah, everyone’s gone and I have no idea where.

I leave my parents’ room and head downstairs, deciding to give them another ring. The sultry, summer air blows in through the screen door in the kitchen as I sit down at the breakfast bar, and for a moment there, I enjoy the slight coolness of the wind and phone as they draw warmth from my body after what’s turning out to be one hot summer.

Answer, answer, I chant quietly, listening as the phone rings out. I then set it down on the counter and slouch over my elbows, unsure what to do. Because here’s the thing: no one’s answering. I’ve called my parents, my brother Luke, my uncle – just every number in the phonebook and not a single person has answered. I even tried the police, but got nothing more than a recording informing me that the lines were busy due to the hurricane forecasted to hit the South Carolina coast tomorrow.

I mean, have they evacuated without me or something? Our plan was to evacuate, the state had ordered us, but we were going to spend the day fortifying the house; boarding windows, felling trees, tying down the corrugated roof of our garden shed, etcetera. But when I ventured outside, none of that had been done. Besides, my parents wouldn’t leave me.

I would check in with my neighbors, but we live in a rural area; my closest neighbors are miles away. I don’t even have my license, so jumping in the car is out of the question. I know it’s sort of an emergency, what does it matter if I’ve got no license, but my parents drive stick and I’m barely coordinated enough to climb the stairs without my hand on the banister.

It’s at this point I cry, partly out of frustration but mostly out of fear. I just don’t understand what’s going on. Where are they? Where the hell is everyone? My friends won’t reply to my texts, the TV and radio are broadcasting nothing more than emergency messages across all stations and not a single car has driven past since I woke up. We do live down the end of a long, gravel road and not many cars pass in general, but I would’ve heard at least one by now. Surely.

In fact, I’m so at a loss that I dash outside barefoot, jog up the driveway and stop in the middle of the road as my skin fries on the hot, dark bitumen. But I’m too distracted to notice. I look left: nothing. I look right: nothing. I look up: nothing. No cars, no planes, I don’t even see a freaking bird. Where the hell is everybody? Has everyone disappeared?

There’s only one sure-fire way to find out. I need to hit town. Because, to be fair, a day without seeing anyone outside my family isn’t unusual around these parts, but there’s always someone in town. People will still be buying supplies in preparation for the hurricane.

Chapter 2 – Without a Trace

I collect my backpack from upstairs, stick in a few bottles of water then step outside in a pair of flip-flops. The sun is beating down hard, so I cover my bare arms and legs in a slick of sunscreen from a bottle kept on our porch table and then throw on a hat.

Since I won’t be driving, I head for our rundown garden shed/garage and retrieve my bike from the pile of other bikes, and it’s filthy in here. Everything is covered in a layer of gray dust and spider web. Old toys of mine sit high up on shelves next to jerry cans and rusted tools. While down the back, my grandma’s old car sits in disrepair and covered by a big sheet.

With my bike pulled from the heap, I wheel it outside and check for any spiders. Then, once confident there aren’t any, I jump on and cycle up our driveway, stopping by the end of it as I take another look up and down the road. But still nothing. I wait a few minutes longer just to make sure no one passes, but eventually head off concerned that no one ever will.

The breeze is cooling as I ride through the warm, moist air. But my stomach burns with—well, I’m not quite sure. It’s a mix of fear, concern and downright confusion. Last night was fairly normal all things considering. We had dinner, watched some TV then planned for the hurricane. I’m not exactly sure when everyone decided to up and leave without me, but everyone was definitely home when I climbed into bed around midnight.

The road ahead of me stretches into a single, tiny point with no sign of town as yet, and already my legs are burning, but I push on. Insects buzz around me, crossing from one side of the road to the other in search of flowers and I finally see a bird of some sort, so at least life in general hasn’t disappeared. Humans are still glaringly absent, though.

Eventually I see the old water tower and church steeple in the distance, which gives my legs the incentive to keep peddling, but my stomach sinks the nearer I get because I still haven’t past a car, not one.

I reach town and cycle down Main, then stop, dismount and saunter quietly as I wheel my bike alongside me.

No one.

Absolutely no one is here, at least not in the streets.

I see peoples’ cars parked by the curb, their bikes chained to road signs and the doors open to the local burger joint and church, but absent are the people. Hello? I call out, stopping with my bike propped beside me. Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?

No response.

It’s at this point I freak out, like, actually panic. I wheel my bike off the road and drop it on the sidewalk then climb the stairs to our local church.

Surely there has to be someone in there. With a hurricane due to make landfall tomorrow, there has to be someone praying for mercy, praying for their house to be spared. Because not everyone chooses to evacuate, even when ordered to, especially in this Southern town where the government is viewed with ill-founded cynicism.

I approach the open doors with a definite sense of trepidation. I don’t know what I expect to find, but the worst-case scenario is nothing at this stage. And nothing—well, that’s what I get as I stand in the doorway, faced with nothing but rows of empty pews and a vacant pulpit.

Goddammit, not a single parishioner in a town of god-fearers. There’s a looming hurricane for god’s sake, they should be out in droves.

I don’t venture inside. It’s too dark and eerie. I do, however, cross the road and head inside the grocery store.

Hello? I call out on my way past every aisle. The shelves are noticeably emptier. People have been collecting supplies days in advance. But no one is here at the moment, not even the check-out chick, and I heard the manager speak of his plans to board the windows when I was here yesterday, which I notice hasn’t been done. This is just getting weirder and weirder.

I return outside and stop by the curb with my hands rested on my hips as I spend the next few minutes struggling with my next course of action. I’m ready to start knocking at peoples’ doors, but everyone lives down the end of a long driveway around here and I honestly find approaching homes scary. I do have somewhere else to try first, though.

Hello? I say, peering in through the window. Sheriff?

I approach the door and knock loudly, but there’s still no answer, so I push it open and head inside. Hello? Is anyone in here? Sheriff?

My shoulders slump as no one replies. No one comes out to greet me. No one’s even manning the counter, so I step behind it, noticing a half-finished coffee rested on a coaster.

I dip my pinky in. Cold, I then think to myself. Whoever was drinking this abandoned it some time ago—well, maybe it hadn’t been that long. Such small bodies of liquid don’t hold their temperature for long. But coffee does leave a stain as the water evaporates, so the brown line of coffee above where the surface is now does give some indication. Problem being: I don’t know the rate of evaporation, leaving me back where I started.

Again, I return outside none-the-wiser and again struggle with my next course of action.

I look up at the sun as it sits above me, so I know it’s about midday without having to check my phone, which means I do have quite a few hours of daylight left, enough to reach the next town over. But I almost don’t want to. I’m scared no one will be there either.

Think, Laura, I mumble, pondering the most likely scenario.

There is a hurricane forecasted and my town has been ordered to evacuate by tomorrow morning, so obviously the most likely scenario is that I’ve been left behind. Of course, that’s made the most unlikely since my family would never do such a thing. And wouldn’t the town be more prepared? A lot of places have battened down, but I can see just as many that haven’t. And actually, it looks the same as yesterday. The same windows stand boarded. The same windows stand unboarded.

Hello? I shout loud enough that my face turns red. Anyone there?

Still no answer.

With tears forming at my eyes, I return to my bike and stand it back up. Before I do or decide anything else, I’m going to knock on a few doors. Not everyone was going to leave, so maybe, just maybe, I can find someone else, someone stubborn enough to stay home despite the threat of a category four hurricane.

I keep within close proximity of town, as the further out you go, the creepier houses get, not to mention the people… I also start somewhere familiar: my friend Casey’s house. I have texted her, but as is the case with everyone else, I’m yet to hear back.

I ditch my bike on her front lawn and climb the front door steps. A wind chime jingles eerily as I knock on the door and that’s all I hear. No one calls out. I hear no footsteps approach the door as I wait. Nothing.

I peer in through the window, but can’t see much behind the lace curtains. I do debate breaking inside, but quickly dismiss the idea, still convinced there’s a simple explanation behind all this. So really, there’s no point risking a breaking and entering charge when there’s clearly no one home.

But with Casey’s house a bust, I grab my bike and cycle in search of somewhere else – my uncle’s house to be specific. He’s a divorced father of two, but lives on his own. And due to the fact he’s an unemployed and stubborn right-wing prick, surely he’s home considering the government told him to leave.

Uncle Tony, I say, tapping on his window. You home?

Nothing. Freaking nothing. I wander around back with ever-increasing worry and see that Koby’s doghouse is empty. Now, that dog never leaves this property. He’s well-behaved around my cousins and Tony, but Tony wouldn’t trust him in public, therefore there must be a good reason he’s gone.

Before leaving, I knock at the backdoor a few times, but again, no one answers. And for the next few hours it’s much the same. Every house seemingly empty. I look in through their windows and see plates of food on the table or bags by the front door, but no people. It’s bizarre. So I give up and head back into town, where I find someplace to sit.

They’re gone, they’re literally gone, I cry softly.

By the half-hour mark, my cries peter down to a sob and I realize how thirsty I am and how long I’ve gone without food. I decide that if no one’s here, not even the sheriff, I might as well help myself to food and drink despite my lack of money. It doesn’t even feel like stealing at this point. Stealing infers you’re taking from someone, but if there is no one, does it count?

I head for the grocery store and wander the aisles, definitely hungry but unsure what I want. I eventually settle on a bag of chips, which I eat outside and wash down with a Pepsi – and they actually make me feel a little better, just having something