Roads of Madness: Island of Fog, #5

By Keith Robinson

Shapeshifters Hal, Robbie, Abigail, and Emily are trapped in the old world with no magic, no means to get home... and no shapeshifting ability!

 

As if that's not bad enough, Emily is sick and worsening by the hour. They have to make it to safety soon. But where is safe? The abandoned city? Their old island?

 

The desperate shapeshifters face an enemy worse than dragons and other mythical creatures – people! But not just ordinary people. Driven crazy by a terrible virus more than a decade before, and eking out a life on the deserted streets ever since, the only way for these gangs to survive is to hunt and scavenge. Known as scrags, and marked by lesions and scars, they're easy to recognize... and best avoided.

 

Easier said than done.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unearthly Tales
• Release date: Aug 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497757424

Keith Robinson

Keith Robinson is a writer of fantasy fiction for middle-grade readers and young adults. His ISLAND OF FOG series has received extremely positive feedback from readers of all ages including Piers Anthony (best-selling author of the Magic of Xanth series) and Writer's Digest. Visit UnearthlyTales.com for more.

Book preview

Prologue

Ray pulled on his jacket and stuck his head into the living room. His wife was by the window, peering out at the darkening street. See you soon, he said.

She spoke without turning. They’re all evacuating. Looks like we might be the only ones left by morning.

Ray knew where she was going with this. We’re staying put, he said firmly. It’ll all blow over and everyone will be back before you know it. I’m not leaving my home unprotected for looters to take what they want.

Melinda turned to face him, her eyes red from crying. Have you even seen the news this evening? The virus is everywhere. I don’t think it’s going to ‘blow over’ any time soon. I think— She broke off and swallowed.

You think what? That this is the end of the world? Ray shook his head. That’s why I don’t watch TV. Too many scaremongers. Look, I need to head out or I’ll be late.

You’ve got your suit?

Ray nodded. In the truck. But they say the virus won’t reach these parts until morning—if it shows up at all. I’ll be back in a few hours, midnight at the latest.

Before he left, he stopped by Ryan’s room and peered down at the sleeping boy, wondering what he would do with himself if he lost his son. He shuddered and gently closed the door, then slipped out of the house.

The noise on the street was frightening. It had been like this all day: people shouting, car doors slamming, engines revving, horns blaring. Ray firmly believed that evacuating was a stupid idea. The problem was that so-called experts couldn’t agree on what the virus was and how it was spreading so fast. Opinions changed every day. At first, according to experts, the fast-spreading virus was passed like a common cold from person to person through sneezes and physical contact. But the rapid spread across continents in the past few days suggested something much worse, something in the air itself.

Nobody wanted to believe this, including Ray, for that would leave absolutely no hope for mankind. So advice direct from the White House was simply to stay home and seal doors and windows. Biosuits went into mass production to meet the unprecedented surge in demand, but everyone knew it was too late for that. Some suggested it was a matter of time before the airborne virus worked its way into homes, that sitting around waiting was like accepting death. Those same people latched on to a rumor that the spread of the virus was slowing. Even though it had arrived on several continents at once, its source in the United States was the coast of California. News programs had continually shown an ever-growing cloud moving across the country to the east and north. Like rats scurrying through a sinking ship, Americans were making a mad dash for the northeast corner of the country and into Canada, convinced they would somehow outrun the virus.

Ray climbed into his truck and glanced at the neatly folded biosuit, mask, and breathing tank on the passenger seat. As a driver for a courier service, he had a lot of useful connections in the area. Three biosuits had cost him a fortune even though the government was giving them away for free—but supply and demand dictated that if you wanted a suit now, you had to pay for it. Anyway, if tonight’s job panned out, Ray’s family would be financially secure for the future. Although the courier service he worked for had shut down until further notice, he had no qualms about using the truck for private work.

He double-checked that his handgun was loaded. Whether the virus reached the city or not, there were plenty of nutcases out there ready to steal his truck or even just his biosuit. Ray had started thinking lately that a pandemic would be easier to deal with if it weren’t for the way decent people turned into savages. Sealing homes against the virus was doable for a short period, just until the experts had things under control—but what could you do about selfish, angry mobs rampaging the streets, throwing bricks through windows and setting fire to things? Why did people act that way? All Ray had in mind was surviving—mostly keeping to himself but sharing with others as needed. Why would anyone want to form a mob and run around being destructive?

Ray backed the truck out of the driveway and waved to his wife, who was watching him from the window. He cruised along the street, then turned right against the flow of slow-moving traffic—frustrated drivers trying to escape the city and flee north. Nobody was going anywhere fast tonight. Luckily for him, he was going to pick up supplies from a warehouse just a few streets away to the west, so his lane was empty. He’d have to deal with this traffic later, but maybe it would have calmed down a bit by then.

The thought of a deadly virus over his city was terrifying. It made him sick with horror to think that his wife and son were in danger of being infected. Maybe staying home wasn’t the smartest plan, but it had to be better than heading north with everyone else. The last thing Ray wanted was to be stuck in a traffic jam when the virus arrived.

Ray switched on the radio. There was never any music these days, just experts discussing things: "—problem being that there are no more biosuits left to hand out. There are millions of people across the country—across the world—who have no way of obtaining a simple protective suit, and the big question is why the government was so woefully unprepared for this outbreak?"

You have to remember, a deep-voiced man replied, "that this virus only reared its ugly head four days ago—and that was in China. Experts never could have predicted such a fast spread of even the most aggressive airborne disease. In fact, most experts remain mystified as to how it has traveled so fast and so far in such a short time, simultaneously reaching all parts of the world even though airports are closed. The recent rumors of a man-made chemical weapon have been replaced by something much grander, that the virus is in the atmosphere itself, some kind of poison or perhaps a chemical reaction caused by a solar flare."

And yet others say it’s of extra-terrestrial origin. What do you say to that, Professor?

I say we shouldn’t rule anything out. In the meantime, I implore listeners to stay home and seal yourselves in. I cannot stress enough the catastrophic scale of this pandemic. Let’s not kid ourselves, people—we’re talking about the possible extinction of mankind.

Wow, Professor, that’s quite a statement! Reports do suggest millions of tragic deaths across the world, but certainly not on the scale of extinction.

And who do you think is capable of compiling accurate reports with such a fast-spreading disease? These reports you speak of are out of date from one minute to the next. Look, the only reason I’m here in this sealed broadcasting station is because I strongly feel that—

Ray switched off the radio and drove in silence. He considered turning around and heading back home. Delivering supplies to an island for an extremely large sum of cash had seemed like a job he couldn’t refuse, enough to buy a house when all this was over. But what was the point of money with nobody left on the planet?

Still, why sit around doing nothing? If Ray could just do this job and take the money, then go home and lay low for as long as it took for the crisis to be over, they would be set for life. With everyone else struggling to get back on their feet, Ray and Melinda would be able to hit the ground running. All his debts would be paid off. Melinda could get that new car she wanted, and Ryan could go to whatever college he wanted in ten years.

He tried to convince himself of this all the way to the warehouse.

****

There were two other trucks in the loading bay when he arrived. That was fine. Ray knew he was just one of three drivers. It actually reassured him to see them. It made him feel that he wasn’t the only one dumb enough to be here tonight.

A crew had been hired to load the goods. Ray and the other drivers stood back and watched as the warehouse was emptied. There was a lot of stuff, mostly household consumables—endless cans of food, bottles of water, toothpaste, toilet rolls, and a staggering array of other seemingly normal items. It was like a grocery store was closing down and shifting its stock. But there were other items, too—one truck was entirely for lumber and building materials, along with gardening tools, sacks of seed, plants, and more. Their mysterious employer was expecting to shelter from the virus for quite some time.

When the supplies were loaded, the work crew piled onto a private minibus. It pulled away, and Ray followed in the first of the three trucks. It was nearly 10 PM as the convoy threaded its way through the streets. The traffic hadn’t abated at all; the major roads out of the city were worse than ever. There were already abandoned cars as people hurried in all directions, either seeking to join friends and ride together, or perhaps heading back home on foot. It was chaos.

The bus driver took a long, long detour, finally making it through to a narrow road that led to the beach. This wasn’t technically a road at all, and they were breaking the law by driving on it, but the police had other things to worry about.

Whatever lingering doubts Ray had about this crazy job when the world was falling apart were eased when the bus driver stopped, climbed out, and approached a woman waiting by the ferry. She was the one in charge of this little operation—not the men that had hired Ray and paid him some of the money in advance, but this woman. Simone. She was absolutely stunning, blond-haired and blue-eyed, somehow oozing intelligence despite her weird fancy-dress costume. She couldn’t be more than twenty, and her simple dress and green silky cloak made her look like she was straight out of a fairy tale—especially with her bare feet, something that Ray found oddly disconcerting as well as alluring. But she commanded respect with her piercing stare and serious expression, and she was obviously rich. Not only had she arranged for a special ferry crossing this late at night, the rumor was that she owned the entire island.

Ray nodded to her from his cab when she glanced his way. She gave a smile, and even though it was forced, Ray felt his spirits lift. Yes, he’d made the right decision about doing this job tonight. The money was fantastic, and helping this woman just seemed the right thing to do. Feeding the whole island? he called.

Something like that, she said quietly. She turned away and raised her voice. The ferry is waiting. Let’s get these vehicles over to the island and offloaded.

The four vehicles rolled onto the waiting ferry. Minutes later, engines roared and water churned as the behemoth edged out into the bay. It was a strange thing, but as Ray sat in his driver’s seat watching the island grow larger, he saw what looked like smoke lifting out of the woods on the far side. He thought it was a trick of the moonlight until the ferry arrived at the dock and the bus and trucks rolled off. Then fog began to drift around them.

It grew thicker as the convoy trundled along the road. Some of the lights were on in the houses he passed; clearly these people were staying put. When the bus pulled into a driveway leading to a huge barn, a floodlight was activated and the fog seemed thicker than ever. By the time they backed up outside the barn’s great doors, visibility was reduced to just ten or fifteen yards.

There were no special instructions from Simone, nor from a couple of other men who stood by her side while the work crew offloaded the three trucks and stacked everything neatly on rows of shelves that had been erected in the center of the barn. There wasn’t room on the shelves for everything, so whatever was left ended up stacked against the walls. The crew did a thorough job, and since a lot of the smaller items were in nondescript crates, one of the workers labeled the ends of the shelving racks so it was clear what was stored in each aisle. The signs were hand-painted with ‘Kitchen and Bathroom,’ ‘Garden,’ ‘Construction,’ and so on.

Ray was almost sorry to leave that night. He felt as though he could have lingered for another few hours just to remain in the presence of that strange and beautiful woman. He wanted to ask her questions, find out who she was providing for, but he seemed unable to approach her. Nobody else did, either. For such an enchanting woman, she sure was standoffish.

Still, as two of the trucks rumbled away after the bus, Ray leaned out of his cab window and called to her. Excuse me?

She turned to face him, and his heart skipped a beat. Yes?

Uh—I was just wondering if you had room on this island for, uh, a few more? He glanced at the envelope of cash on the passenger seat. You obviously don’t need my money, but I’m willing to pay rent or whatever. I’m a good worker. I have a truck; maybe that would be helpful? I just . . . He swallowed as she continued to stare at him with bright blue eyes. The world is going crazy. My wife and seven-year-old boy—

I’m sorry, Simone interrupted. Really, I am. But this island is now private property, and I have to consider the welfare of those who live here. Please leave.

Ray blinked. The men to her side looked embarrassed and peered down at the ground, shuffling their feet. Meanwhile, the bus and trucks were disappearing into the fog. Ray’s foot hovered over the accelerator. He wanted to discuss this further, see if he could somehow persuade the woman that his family was just as important as hers, but something told him it would be futile. This woman wasn’t going to budge. And as he looked into her cold eyes, he realized she wasn’t as beautiful as he’d first thought. She didn’t seem to care what happened to him once he’d left the island. He’d done his job and been paid, end of story.

Ma’am, he said tightly as he jammed his foot on the accelerator.

He sped along the road, squinting to find the taillights of the trucks ahead. He eventually caught up, and the convoy trundled down the hill to the dock where the ferry was waiting. Once he’d rolled on, he peered back at the island and frowned, thinking how strange it was that the fog was not venturing across the bay.

As the ferry got underway, he climbed down from his cab and looked across to the mainland. He saw the orange glow of a fire somewhere within the streets. He heard muted sirens, dozens of car horns, the thudding of a helicopter . . .

Fearing for his family, he clenched his fists and mentally urged the ferry’s pilot to speed things along. The other two truck drivers climbed down to join him, saying nothing as they leaned against the guardrail, the wind ruffling their hair as they took in the scene ahead. The bus’s door hissed open and laborers began to file out. They drifted to both sides of the ferry and peered ahead.

By the time the ferry was halfway across the bay, not a man was speaking. The sense of dread was so strong that Ray felt sure the ferry’s pilot was Death himself, carrying them all to Hades for an eternity of suffering—except that they were slowing. A second or two later, the engines cut off. Perhaps the pilot was having second thoughts about returning. This might suit some of the passengers, but Ray had family waiting for him. The last thing he wanted was a debate about whether to continue into the harbor or try farther along the coast.

He growled under his breath and started toward the steps leading up to the bridge deck. As he joined a crowd of others hurrying to have words with the ferry pilot, he was filled with a flood of desperation. He regretted leaving his family now. He had a pocketful of cash and, suddenly, knew it was utterly worthless. All that mattered was staying away from the virus, protecting his home and family, and surviving until all this was over. And right now he was stuck on a ferry.

Just let my family be okay, he thought over and over.

Something in the water distracted him, and he peered over the side. Others saw it too, and they pointed and exclaimed. Out of the swirling black water rose a long, glistening white hump, easily four or five feet across. It was there one second, gone the next, too big for a shark or dolphin but . . . perhaps a whale? Its skin was odd, though—milky white and strangely reptilian.

It was gone now, but half a minute later there came a bump from below. Ray gripped the guardrail as the ferry tilted sideways. Everyone began to yell. The first thought that flitted through Ray’s mind was that they’d drifted onto rocks. Yet they were still moving. And moving faster. They were picking up speed again, heading toward the harbor on the mainland even though the engines were silent.

Confused, he and all the other passengers turned to look up at the bridge deck that straddled the bow of the ferry. The pilot was there, his back pressed against the glass as if he’d seen something unimaginable ahead. Or perhaps something in the water that Ray and the others couldn’t see from where they were.

Impossibly, the ferry continued moving directly toward the harbor, powered by something other than its own dormant engines . . .

Chapter One

Along the Cliff

Hal Franklin patted his pocket, wondering if he should just toss the heavy geo-rock away. It was useless now anyway, nothing more than a dead weight that kept banging against his leg as he trudged along the blustery cliff with his friends. He reached for it, almost of a mind to get rid of it . . . but as soon as his fingers brushed its rough, rounded surface, he balked. Not yet, he decided. Just in case its magic returns.

Don’t throw it away, Abigail Porter murmured without even looking his way. She was walking alongside, chewing her lip and staring out at the ocean as her dark brown hair whipped around her face. As usual she had an uncanny way of reading Hal like a book. If it comes back to life, it could get us home.

I know, I know, Hal said with a sigh. If it comes back to life, and if we get our powers back, and if we’re not killed off by a deadly virus, and if crazy people don’t come out of nowhere and attack us. He lowered his voice to a whisper. And if Emily survives that long.

Don’t be a pessimist, Abigail retorted.

A little way ahead, Robbie walked with Emily. All four of them were twelve years old, but Robbie Strickland was the tallest. He was also the thinnest and the dorkiest. With every gust of wind, his loose clothing flapped on his bony frame. Normally he strode without looking back, always forging ahead, following an unerring sense of direction like a bloodhound, but today he stayed close to Emily, occasionally helping her as a wave of dizziness caused her to sway and stagger.

Emily Stanton was sick. They all knew it was a matter of time before she became too sick to walk, and after that—well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Walking into the night was their only option because the sickness was worsening by the hour; by morning she might not be able to stand. They had to make it to the city on the horizon soon, or if not there, then somewhere, some place with doctors who might be able to help.

They were headed south along the cliff. It was overgrown with long brown grass and dead weeds, but a sandy path existed, and it was this the four grimly followed. It stretched into the distance, rising and falling with the cliff, which dipped inland around coves and then jutted back out over crashing waves. It was impossible to tell if the path led all the way to the city, but the alternative was clambering up and over the grassy hill and heading inland. They’d tried that already, looking for signs of life, but although they’d discovered plenty of houses lining overgrown roads, each decrepit structure was as silent and eerie as the next. So Hal and his friends had continued trudging along the cliff path.

The sun had set somewhere off to their right, and the sky had turned purple. Hal shivered. Walking helped fight off the chills, but their clothes were thin and the biting wind was cutting through to his bones. His previously magical shirt and pants felt lifeless now. Ever since Emily had first found the enchanted garments in a crate at the bottom of the lighthouse back on their island, they’d all been amazed by the inexplicable warmth radiating from the light, silky fabric. The clothes were alive, and they somehow adapted when Hal and his friends shapeshifted, instantly changing size to accommodate a larger frame, a tail, or a pair of wings—or completely reforming into a cloak or belt. The enchanted garments, what Hal liked to think of as smart clothes, were perfect for shapeshifters. He and his friends were used to the warmth they provided even in cool weather.

Except now they were just ordinary clothes, no more enchanted than jeans and T-shirts. Even their footwear was giving them problems. Hal groaned when one of his shoes came loose again, and he stooped to pick it up. It was a curious-looking thing, a thick sheet of supple foot-shaped plastic molded to perfectly fit his bare foot. Normally these magical shoes hugged his feet tightly, curling up and around his heel, arch and toes, sticking as though glued on, warm and oddly comforting. Now the plastic was stiff and brittle, no longer yielding to his movements. Worse, the warmth had seeped out and his feet were freezing.

Hal slipped the shoe back on and glanced over his shoulder. In the darkness, he could no longer see the large clump of rocks that marked the entrance to an underground cavern. Within that cavern was a ‘hole,’ a gateway to another world. It was from that hole they’d emerged earlier that evening. Hal couldn’t imagine descending into that cavern again knowing what was down there . . .

How are you doing, Em? he asked, returning his attention to the front.

He heard a sigh. Wobbly, same as last time you asked.

Wobbly is good, Abigail announced. Better than completely collapsed on the ground unable to move.

That comes later, Emily said sourly. As if to make her point clear, she began to cough hoarsely, her shoulders jerking up and down. She slowed and bent almost double as the cough worsened. It was horrible to listen to, but it would pass in a moment. Sure enough, she finally composed herself and stood for half a minute bent over with hands on knees, breathing hard. Then she straightened up and looked back at Hal and Abigail. She looked drawn, with shadows around her eyes. Do you still think we should be doing this? she croaked.

Hal and Abigail nodded simultaneously, although it was Hal who spoke first. My dad always said that when you have to make a decision, you should make it and stick to it. We agreed to head for the city. That’s the city we could see from the lighthouse back on our island, so if we can get to the island—

And there’s nothing back the other way, Abigail said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. It looks even more deserted.

Emily nodded and closed her eyes. "I know, but leaving the cavern . . . What if Molly comes looking for us and we’re not there? We might be walking away from rescue."

Robbie shook his head. "The way home is gone, and those miengu things are in the cavern. They woke up, Em. They’re swimming around down there with their horrible black eyes and slimy fish tails. You want to go back to that?"

There was a long silence during which Emily shrugged and nodded wearily. She turned and began trudging once more toward the distant city.

I bet they’re ugly, Abigail said after a while. It was magic that made the miengu so pretty or handsome. Without magic they’re probably too hideous to look at. She sighed. And without magic, we can’t transform.

I never knew we had magic in us in the first place, Robbie grumbled. "I thought we were just . . . special."

Abigail shook her head. We always had magic in us. Magic is all around us. This world has far less magic than Miss Simone’s, but that’s why we were born and raised here—to delay our transformations until we were old enough to deal with them. The fog delayed it further. Don’t you ever listen, Robbie?

Not really. Anyway, Miss Simone doesn’t believe in magic either.

I bet she does now. The phoenix sucked the magic out of the air, and out of us too. We’re like candles that have been snuffed out due to lack of oxygen. But I think the magic will return. Maybe it will rise up out of the ground over time . . . or creep back in from outside the phoenix’s blast range. Eventually our flames will reignite.

Hal raised an eyebrow at her. "There was a time you didn’t believe in magic."

She smiled and shrugged. Being a faerie changes things.

The path was beginning to fade into the gloom. In an unspoken but concerted effort to avoid the rising panic, the conversation turned to Fenton Bridges.

So if those miengu statues in the cavern came back to life, Robbie said, it stands to reason Fenton did too, right? The miengu were turned to stone by Molly, same as Fenton.

The magic’s gone, Hal agreed. And if those statues came back to life because the magic disappeared, then it means they were never dead in the first place. They’ve just been frozen all this time.

Suspended animation, Robbie said, sounding excited. "I read about it once. Life is suspended—not dead, but not alive either. Just paused. Do you think Molly knew all her victims were still alive?"

Hal shook his head, forgetting for a second that Robbie was in front and couldn’t see him. When we first met Molly, she was testing her powers, trying to reverse the spell on a bunch of rodents. Seems to me like she didn’t believe there was any hope for them.

Normally there wouldn’t be, Abigail mused. Hal looked sideways at her. She walked with her head down, staring thoughtfully at the path. In the other world, magic is always in the air. People take it for granted. But if you think about it, gorgons have been around forever. Molly isn’t the first of her kind, or the last, even though she’s pretty rare these days. Species don’t pop up out of nowhere; the world might have been teeming with gorgons thousands of years ago. Think how many victims they turned to stone over that amount of time. The world would be littered with statues by now! Maybe there isn’t much evidence of that because every so often a phoenix comes along and does its rebirth thing, and in the process all the magic disappears from the world and statues return to life. Sort of like a reprieve. A reset. Isn’t that what Blair said?

Somehow the idea of statues awakening all over the land gave Hal the heebie-jeebies—although it wouldn’t happen across the entire land at once because a phoenix had only a limited range. When one went up in flames and was reborn, it took with it all the magic within a hundred-mile radius or thereabouts. It was an impossibly large area as far as Hal was concerned, but it gave him hope that somewhere, in the far distance, magic still permeated the air.

The city was a smidgen closer now, but the sky was black and star-studded. The path was barely visible under their feet even in the strong moonlight.

How about some fire, Hal? Abigail said, so unexpectedly that Hal jumped.

Yeah, right, he muttered.

No, seriously, have you tried lately? Never mind what I said earlier. We don’t really know anything about this phoenix rebirth thing. Will the magic stay gone for fifty years? A decade? A few months? A week? What if we were out of range of its blast zone?

"But we weren’t out of range, Robbie said. He had slowed again, matching step with a silent Emily. The hole closed and we can’t transform."

"Yes, but remember, we were in this world when the phoenix did its thing. What if we were shielded from the full effects of the blast?"

Hal thought back to the event. Jolie, their entrancing