Hell of the Dead 4: The Hell of the Dead Saga, #4

By Erik Handy

NO CURE FOR TERROR!

 

Hayes, Jones, and Drake continue their mission to stop the insidious Heaven's Virus from wiping out humanity. But as they delve deep into the bowels of a secret research facility, they stumble upon a sinister experiment known only as "The Forever Man Project." This project holds the key to the virus and its origins.

 

As they uncover the truth, they realize that an old friend lies at the center of the mystery. With danger around every corner and time running out, they must confront their friend and stop the virus from spreading before it's too late.

 

Will they be able to put an end to the madness? Find out in the heart-pounding fourth installment of the Hell of the Dead series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Handy
• Release date: Jun 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224450985

Erik Handy

Erik Handy grew up on a steady diet of professional wrestling, bad horror movies that went straight to video, and comic books. There were also a lot of video games thrown in the mix. He currently absorbs silence and fish tacos.

Book preview

Prologue

Once upon a time, it was an elementary school. It consisted of three primary classroom wings, a cafeteria located behind them, and a library along the northwestern side. Each section was accessed through exterior entries.

Then the local school board shut the place down. Claims that the surrounding area was no longer safe for children flew. They weren’t without merit. The county gave up on trying to preserve the area so it became a shunned section of the city, close to downtown, but neighborhood non grata.

Weeds and tall grass grew wild in the area, their tangled mass crawling up the walls of most of the buildings. The employee entrance of the school’s cafeteria was boarded up with rotting wooden planks. Crackheads always broke in. If you didn’t see them, you could always see pry marks on the splintered wood.

The urban area surrounding the abandoned school was just as desolate and run-down as the school itself. The buildings lining the streets were boarded up, their windows and doors sealed tight with wooden planks or metal bars. Graffiti and other markings covered the walls, serving as a reminder of the area’s neglect and decay.

The streets were littered with trash and debris, discarded objects that had been left to rot in the open air. Piles of garbage bags overflowed from dumpsters, attracting scavenging rats and other pests.

The few cars that were parked along the sides of the road were in various states of disrepair, their broken windows and rusted frames evidence of long-term neglect. Some had been stripped of their parts or had been abandoned entirely, their hoods propped open and their engines exposed.

The few people who could be seen walking along the sidewalks moved quickly, their heads down and their eyes avoiding contact with others. It was clear that this was not a safe or welcoming area, but one that had been abandoned by the city and left to fall into disrepair.

Then the outbreak happened.

People went crazy. Not here, though. There weren’t too many souls around when the city became a living hell. The populated sections were hit the hardest. People went crazy and started to kill each other.

Rumors spread as quickly and dangerously as the contagion. The infected turned into monsters, mutating into obscene parodies of humans. TV reporters told viewers to stay indoors away from other people.

The military swept in to stop the insanity and the news from escaping city limits. One could hear their orders from blocks away, their loudspeakers blaring. The cover story was that a group of college students released a hallucinogenic toxin. There were no homicidal maniacs. There were no monsters. There was no outbreak.

The city folk who survived, who were there when it all went down knew better. They saw the demonic shapes. They heard the wails. They smelled the metallic scent of blood.

The school saw more foot traffic the week before the outbreak. Men in black outfits. White panel trucks, unmarked. In and out. Hurrying. Who were they? Why were they there?

Then as the day turned to night, as the monsters slowed and collapsed after a long day of murdering, the school rumbled before going up in flames. Hell wasn’t finished with the city.

The roof of one building sagged and crumpled, leaving debris and ash strewn across the ground. The windows, those that were still intact, were shattered. Doors had been blown off their hinges. Any furniture or equipment left inside the school was now unrecognizable, warped from the intense heat. The playground outside was destroyed. Swings and slides melted or snapped in half.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burnt plastic and chemicals. It was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of oneself.

That happened a few hours ago. Now, the flames were mere embers. The only sounds that could be heard were the occasional creak of a beam or the sound of a loose piece of debris settling.

Something happened here. The boy knew. He saw it all happen.

The teenage boy sat alone in his apartment, staring out the window at the abandoned elementary school across the street. He lived with his grandmother in the small apartment, but she had left earlier that day to visit his aunt in another city. It was the first time he had been left alone for an extended period. He felt both excited and nervous at the prospect. He didn’t plan on venturing out, but he had the place to himself. So he did what he had been doing for the past several weeks. He spied on the school.

He wondered if his grandmother tried to get a hold of him, but they didn’t have a phone. None of their neighbors did. No one came knocking on the door to see if he was okay. He felt alone, as if he was on another planet. This was his ghetto.

When flames burst