Somewhere In The Middle Read online

  Somewhere in The Middle

  By Lucas Coon

  ISBN-13:

  978-1548862978

  ISBN-10:

  1548862975

  This book was assigned a free CreateSpace ISBN. Thanks CreateSpace!

  © 2015 Lucas A. Coon

  All Rights Reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any means without the prior permission of the author. For permission requests, write the author an email at: [email protected]. Seriously, I'll give you permission. If you like my writing, send me an e-mail. That is one of the most inspiring things you can do for a small-time author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Dedication...

  I dedicate this story to a number of people. First and foremost, myself. I finally found something that interests me, something that I would feel appropriate dedicating my life to. Secondly, my loving girlfriend/fiancée/wife Patience Green. You've been there for me for a ridiculous amount of time and have helped me through all my highs and lows and you've made it a point to tell me it's all worth it. If I sell even one copy of this book, it's because of you. Next; my parents. Both of you have been there for me from day one, you have no idea how much I appreciate everything. My fantastic sisters and their families, you guys are the best. Michelle Sodaro for telling me to keep writing (and for making incredible stories as well!). Samantha (Helen) Bennet for reading my book and giving me feedback, even though you didn't even know me. Lastly; Brady and his great team at Scooter's Coffeehouse of Lenexa. You guys have no idea how much of this book has been written with me sitting in your lobby. If I didn't call you out and you think you should have been on this list; just call me and yell at me.

  REV2 :: 04272015 REV3 :: 06012015

  Chapter 1 – Preface

  Evolution is regarded as the process in which an organism changes over time to better adapt to its environment to ensure survival. It can be natural; a species can change over time due to something as simple as a shift in climates. Life will do everything that it possibly can in order to replicate itself. Every generation leans a little more towards what the species will be in the future. Without a system of self-replication the chain would effectively come to a screeching halt. These are the two extremes in natural evolution; either the change is gradual, lasting hundreds to millions of years, or it all falls apart.

  It can also be artificial. Humans have been known to play a large role in the changing of the way the world works. We destroy beyond reason. We have no problem completely removing species from existence to get a few extra bucks out of a small piece of land and the delicate ecosystem attached to it. We regard our "duties" of tearing trees out of forests, dumping our toxins into large bodies of water, and burying yesterday's cheeseburger wrapper as a higher priority than doing anything to help the only planet that we have the ability to live on. We couldn't care less if we've removed natural selection from the picture entirely, as long as we can make a few million dollars. We destroy the systems that were put in place by nature millions of years ago without a second thought. We also commit the worst possible sin against the natural process of evolution; we invoke the other end of the aforementioned spectrum. We force evolution to occur in instantaneous spurts through biological experimentation. We attempt to create the fittest, but quite often they don't survive. We've proven that while we can alter the system, most of the time the results aren't stable. Take mules for instance. They are a genetic combination of a horse and a donkey but are sterile throughout their lives. This proves that our splicing has no genetic benefits. Why do we do this? Is it pride? To prove we can?

  In our own minds, we are gods. We create societies, we destroy societies. We destroy ecosystems, and then recreate them in your local city zoo. We are aware of the consequences of our actions, proven through the millions of conservation efforts and "Save the Animal" pamphlets (I won't get into the irony of these), but have no problem throwing away a half-empty foam Chinese takeout container of Chicken lo mein. We are hypocritical in our efforts to protect endangered species through the use of a television commercial produced by for-profit corporations that use one-percent of all funding to actually aide in their cause. The worst part of our god-complex is that we end up abandoning our own. We kill innocent people in foreign countries over mounds of dirt. We draw imaginary lines not to cross, and then throw anyone that does in a cage. We've effectively built our own system of Darwinism. We don't even realize that we follow the laws of survival of the fittest to the letter. We've inflated the definition of "fittest" mind you, but we still do. Our economic status has become the label by which we are judged, and more often than not, the circumstances of one's birth deal higher in this than the work they put into it. If you're born rich, you're part of the fittest. You will, more than likely, never have to deal with the burdens of scrapping for food. If you're born into a low-rate country with a dictatorship for a government where food is scarce, then the men at the top wish you the best of luck.

  The most demonstrable actions we take to fall in line with Darwinism, is war. We pit our strongest youth against each other in a battle to the death over whatever the top of the chain desires. We will wipe out entire societies at the word of the most powerful men, without ever questioning why those men don't have to see the light of battle. We've killed for the most ridiculous things in our history, and we've killed for things that we could consider noble. For instance, we've fought with oppressive rulers to be free from the reigns of kings. On the other hand, we've murdered our own brothers because some of us thought we should be allowed to keep other humans as indentured pets. Yes, all of that is in the past, but what about in the recent times? We've killed people because they were born of a different skin color than those in power, a circumstance completely outside of anyone's control. When we finally stopped doing that (at least most countries) we decided to move on to killing people for living differently behind closed doors.

  The main point to be made here; we will almost do anything to satisfy our desire to be gods. If there was a promise of power for killing the first born son of every family, you can bet that someone out there would supply the bullets. In our grab for ultimate power, we've made mistakes along the way. A number of times we've faced complete annihilation by our own hands. We've laid the end of our society, potentially our planet, on the table several times. This is the extent of our society; this is what we've accomplished. We've killed billions. We've wiped out species. We've perfected the art of systematic murder to the point that we can get entire societies to perform it on each other. Our civilization has built itself to an absolute paramount, only to constantly fall back to the base of the mountain. Odds are we will never succeed, and eventually we will fall by our own hands. We will be dragged down by our inactivity, all the while verbally complaining about the unjust activities of our leaders.

  One day it will all come to an end.

  Chapter 2 – Mitchell

  Sweat was beginning to build on his arms and forehead. The sun was bright today, and the temperature was starting to push into the high nineties. 'It has to be at least one' he thought. He glanced at his wrist watch. The glass covering was cracked in a manner that spider-webbed across the surface. The arms seemed to not be moving and, based on what it said, it was around eight-thirty. He knew this wasn't right. 'It must be broken.' He started to undo the clasp from the leather band, but paused mid-removal. His face changed to a smile, and he reconnected the strap. The watch may have been broken but it was a subtle reminder of
a better day. A day when he didn't have to guess whether or not falling asleep would end his life. A time when living meant something.

  'Why? Why am I still going? Why haven't I just laid down and died yet?' He pondered his reasons for continuing. 'It makes no sense to keep going anymore. It's all gone. It's all over. Death would be a sweet release from this hell.' He coughed. It was a dry cough. The heat was rising, and he needed to not sit around. If he was going to live another day, then he would need to make sure he was safe, and that there was enough in ways of provisions for another day. He stood and looked around the room. He was holed up in an executive's office on the third floor of an office building. He didn't bother reading the name of the company when he was running for his life, he was just looking for safety, and this was the first place he found it.

  The office was mostly glass. He liked the way it gave him a view of the city. Or, rather, he would've liked it, prior to all of this happening. It wasn't very high up, but it offered a beautiful way to look over the smaller businesses in the downtown area. He could see what looked like a mom & pop burger joint right next door, as well as a number of fast-food conglomerates, and a strip mall less than a mile down. All of these could be great locations for finding provisions, but could he make it there and back? The sun was high, so his chances were slightly better than if it were darker out, but there was always the possibility of failing. However, if he stood there and did nothing, death was a certainty. 'Is that such a bad thing?' he begrudgingly thought. He shook his head. 'I can't keep thinking that way. I have to keep going….' He peered out the window onto the street below, and he saw that they were out walking the streets. It was just like every day, the streets were never clear. He managed to get here, but could he get there and back? He scouted the paths he would have to take to get to any of the potential destinations. He decided the closest option might be best for a first day of scouting. If nothing else he would get a feel for the area.

  "If only I knew what damn time it was." He muttered.

  "It's around two..." a small voice responded...

  -----

  He was frantically running for his life only two days prior, desperately trying to locate a safe place to hide. It was beginning to get dark, and nowhere seemed to offer the appropriate shelter. He searched for any sign that he was headed in the right direction, and then he saw it. On the third floor of an office building there was a large black 'X' inside a circle spray painted on the window. This had become the universal sign for "Safe Zone" or any zone that they had yet to breach. He knew that this could be a false-positive, and that it could've been abandoned already, but his options were to die here or die there. He chose to die there. He ran in the front doors and past the desks. The lights were on so it was bright enough to see in the lobby, he quickly scouted the floor for an elevator or stair well. The stairs were in the south eastern corner of the room; he ran in and flung open the door as quickly as he could. He stopped on the other side of the door for a moment to breathe. It didn't seem like they were following him anymore. Did he actually outrun them? Or did they just get distracted by an easier target? He went up the stairs to the third floor and attempted to open to door. It was locked and the window was blacked out. 'Dammit!' he thought. He banged on the door. 'Please let there be someone….anyone!' He heard the click of an electronic lock. He opened the door and ran in and turned to shut the door as quickly as he could. He gasped and turned while slinking down to the floor. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by the business end of a twelve-gauge.

  "Who are you and are you infected?" The person behind the gun shouted angrily. The voice was male, he sounded young and frightened. The room was dark, making it hard to fully make out the shape of his face, but he could see some of his features. He had longer hair that was slicked back, and a rough jaw. He was physically fit. Looking at him, one could assume that he visited the gym regularly, possibly every other day. He probably spent a majority of his time on the treadmills, set at a high pace, running just to clear his mind after a long day of work. He may have also participated in weight-lifting, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Despite all of this, one thing was obvious; he was being protective. It was also quite odd to Mitchell that he had given this much time for the man on the floor to examine him and build a physical profile.

  "I said, who the hell are you?" There it was. He tensed his trigger arm to indicate that he meant business.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa! My name is Mitchell Swartz. I am not infected, I was running and I saw your window safety marker!" Mitchell kept as still as he could to prevent the possibility that this man would think that he was going to make a move.

  "Open your mouth!" Mitchell complied. The man shined his light into Mitchell's mouth while maintaining the aim of the shot gun. He peered into Mitchell's mouth as closely as possible, before lowering his weapon. It was clear, at this point, that he had decided that Mitchell wasn't a threat. The tension quickly began to drop as soon as the weapon was aiming at the carpet.

  "Can I, uh, move now?"

  "Yeah, yeah, stand up." The man reached his arm down to help Mitchell stand. Mitchell grabbed it and lifted himself to his feet. Now that a few moments had passed and there was no longer the possibility that, within the next second, his head could be sprayed on the door behind him, Mitchell's eyes had begun to adjust to the dark. He could tell that he was in a room with a number of cubicles. There were a couple of lights on, closer to the back of the floor, indicating that there may be more than just the gunman on the floor. To the right there was what looked like a small kitchen, probably for office employees, and on the left was the large painted window.

  "I'm Darren. Sorry about all that." It had become obvious at this point that, had Mitchell been infected, Darren wouldn’t have been able to actually shoot him. It was blatantly clear that he didn’t want to handle the gun, much less point it at someone or pull the trigger. The low-light of the room was just enough, at this point, to help Mitchell see more of Darren's details. His hair was jet black and he had a dark goatee surrounded by a five o'clock shadow. It was obvious that he hadn't shaved for a while, which, with how things were, who could blame him? He sighed. This was all stressful for everyone, and unfortunately Darren wasn't exempt from the situation.

  "Come on over this way Mitchell. My wife and daughter are over on the far end. There's another couple on the other side. It's only the five of us. Well, six, now, with your arrival. It's safe up here for now. The door to this floor has a solid lock that requires someone inside to unlock it. There was a key-fob system in place as well, but that doesn't seem to work anymore." Darren turned and started walking towards one of the lit cubicles. His stride was quick, defensive even. It seemed as though he was designated as the leader of the pack. He didn't have the mentality though. Mitchell walked a few steps behind him. As they walked down the rows of cubicles, he saw a number of personal effects of the former employees. There were a number of photographs and children's drawings, as well as a couple of potted plants strewn around the floor. One cubicle had a vase filled with flowers that were starting to brown, complete with a small card that said "Happy Second Anniversary! Here's to many more." That was almost too much to bear. The thought that maybe a week or two ago, a young couple were probably sharing a fairly pricey dinner at a classy restaurant down the road. They probably ordered something from the part of the menu they never looked at, because it was a special occasion. There were more than likely a few glasses of wine involved, which lead to aggressive flirtation fueled by alcohol. They probably laughed uncontrollably at things that really weren't that funny, and when their eyes locked near the end of the meal, the sexual tension peaked. Odds are, they drove home too quickly to finish out a romantic night, and both felt invincible. There would have never had been the thought that any of this would happen at all. It was likely that they had plans to move into a nice sized house with extra bedrooms so they could have chil--

  Mitchell's thoughts ceased right there as he felt himself choking up. T
his was a thought he couldn't finish, and he opted to forget about the couple entirely. They continued down the way to the end of the cubicles. As they approached the end, the faint light was refreshing. Even though little time had passed, or at least it had felt like little time had passed, it had gotten completely dark outside the security of this office building. They approached the small segment of the room that had become the safe-haven to Darren and his family

  "This is my wife Kayla, and my daughter Lilly-Anne."

  "Don't call me that daddy!" The small girl’s voice boomed in protest.

  "Sorry! Lilly! Her birthday was last week and ever since she's been picky about what you call her. She just up and decided that she needed to be a full-grown woman at the age of 5, and that pretty ladies aren't called Lilly-Anne, they're called Lilly." He smirked at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. For a moment, you could tell that they had both forgotten where they were and what was going on outside. For that instance in time, they were both in another world. It was a world where the undying love of a father and daughter was enough to keep everything going. It was enough to keep the planet turning and the sun burning for another day. For a couple of seconds there was a warmth in the room that had emanated from the family. They obviously loved each other. This situation, and the fact that Darren had just recently threatened to murder a man that he'd never met before, however reluctant he may have been, indicated that they were in it for the long run. It was quite nice to see that some people were still happy, even without a permanent place to call home, and the threat of being eaten, or worse, infected ringing true every minute of the hour.

  "What's your name?" The small girl chimed in after a few moments of silence. Her hair was as black as her fathers, but her face was more round and almost chubby. She wasn't any thicker than a child her age should have been. Her mother was in a defensive position, clenching her tightly. She had red hair that was obviously dyed, and freckles under reflective eyes of an almost auburn hue. She looked fit, but healthy. She had the body shape of someone that would be considered unanimously attractive, but not displayed in a magazine because she would be "over-weight" by their standards. She looked to be the perfect match for Darren's build, and the genetic combination had created the adorable girl that was staring intently at Mitchell. As he looked at her preparing a response, he noticed that she too had freckles. This child was a genetic lottery ticket with matching numbers in every column. Two attractive parents and an amount of cute you would fall in love with within the first moments of a prime-time commercial.