NOTE: This chapter is available in audiobook format on the TLHOC Podcast.
Access previous chapters of the book on the Table of Contents page.
June 16, 9:05 am
Jesus Christ, what now? Carla thought, pulling her cruiser to a stop.
She’d been driving for almost two hours, but progress through the ruined city was slow. Most of the roads had accidents or had been blocked, sometimes deliberately. On more than one street Carla had discovered gridlock so unbreakable that the people in the cars had eventually walked away, removing any hope that the streets would be cleared in the foreseeable future.
Sometimes she saw evidence that the drivers hadn’t abandoned their vehicles of their own volition. Bodies in burned and shot up cars became something she began to expect around every corner.
But the mess now in front of her looked quite unlike all the others. It was not the result of crashed or abandoned vehicles, but it was because the pavement was actually… gone.
Looking both directions across the torn up roadway, she finally spotted what looked to be a huge bulldozer. A larger one than you would normally see in the confines of the city. This one looked like it would be more at home prowling the open pit at Kennecott, rather than here in the middle of a South Salt Lake street.
Holding her breath, Carla eased her squad car across what appeared to be the least damaged part of the roadbed, ignoring a half dozen bodies—or parts of bodies—crushed in the muddy rubble. When she was finally on her way north again, she breathed a sigh of relief. This part of the city had been almost completely abandoned.
The slowest part about going north was that she had been forced to keep stopping to help people in crisis. She was in this neighborhood because just thirty minutes ago she had finished giving a young kid a ride home, after the eight-year-old girl told her that her mother had killed both her brother and her stepfather. Carla had found her walking down the middle of the street, and she said that she was trying to get home to her father. She took the girl where she needed to go, but the house was empty. The girl insisted on waiting for her father, and Carla had left her there, with admonitions to stay inside and keep the doors locked. And the detour had gotten her no closer to the Avenues, and her search for Howard Gunderson.
For the first time since she had dropped off the kid, she tried checking her radio, but it was still nothing but static. She hadn’t even bothered to check her phone for the past couple hours, since it hadn’t been working in the slightest, ever since she lost her call to the dispatcher some hours ago. But to her surprise, as she glanced at the phone on the passenger seat, she saw a tiny “1” in a red dot on her phone app, showing that she had a voice message.
“My god, are you working now?” she asked, picking up the phone and punching the voice mail icon. She was shocked when it rang, and then connected her to her voicemail.
I must be in range of a tower that is still in service, she thought, as she pulled over to the side of the road.
She listened through the greeting, then punched the number to retrieve new messages. She expected to hear the voice of her dispatcher, or maybe her Sergeant. But the voice that came through the phone’s speaker was the last one in the world she expected to hear.
She instantly recognized Michelle Kilani.
Dumbfounded, Carla listened to the message.
“Detective Grayson, this is Michelle Kilani. I have to make this quick, because we’re leaving the city. Or at least, we’re going to try to. But I need you to know what’s going on. This isn’t a virus, and it isn’t a chemical leak. It’s something much more terrible. And I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but please, just listen… When Howard killed Richard, he wasn’t Howard. It’s… It’s too complicated to explain in detail, but just know that there are… presences…”
The woman’s voice faltered for a minute, and she paused as if she had to gather her thoughts. Carla was afraid that would be the end of the message, but then Michelle continued.
“There are spirits of dead people. Ghosts, I guess you’d call them. And somehow they’ve learned to possess and control people. One of them took over Howard Gunderson and used him to kill Richard. Carla, everything that is going on in the city now is because these ghosts are taking people over and making them do… horrible things. There are hundreds of them, and they are being controlled by… someone. Howard doesn’t really know who or what it is.”
Michelle paused, as if she suddenly realized what she had just said.
“Yes, Howard Gunderson is with us. He has been since last night. I know you must think I’m crazy, but the four of us are going to try and get out of the city. I don’t know if Richard can stop what is happening, but Howard says he’s going to try.”
She paused again, and a little laugh crept out.
“And oh yeah, that probably sounds even more crazy than everything else I’ve said. But yeah, Richard is a ghost too, and he’s been here. Howard can see him and talk with him. He and a ghost named Billy are trying to find whoever is using this dead army or whatever it is to attack the city. And they’re trying to stop them.”
She was silent so long Carla was once again sure that the call was over. But she could hear her talking to someone in the room, and the voice did indeed sound like Howard Gunderson.
“Oh, God, I know how all this sounds. But please… Detective, I have to go. We’re going to try to get to Ogden. My parents live there, and they think it’s safe. We’re taking Howard with us. Please don’t tell anyone, and don’t send anyone after Howard. He’s innocent, and he’s just as frightened and confused by what’s happening as the rest of us. Probably more. If we make it safely, I’ll call this number again.”
There was another pause, as if Michelle wasn’t sure how to end the call. Her last words were weak and took a lot out of her.
“Good Luck.”
Without saying goodbye, the line went dead, and the voice mail system came on, asking if she’d like to save the message. Numbly, Carla punched the button to save it, and then switched over to the list of missed calls. Michelle made the call at 6:42 am. It was now (she looked at her watch) 9:20. She checked quickly, and there were no other messages. That didn’t surprise her. If they had the same difficulty getting out of town that she was having getting back to the Avenues, they might still be a long way from Ogden.
Carla punched the button to dial the number that was still on her screen, and it rang for a long time before Michelle’s voice mail picked up. For a moment, she had no idea what she was going to say.
“Michelle, this is Carla Grayson. I got your message, and I’m on my way back to downtown. I don’t know what is really going on, and yes, what you say sounds crazy, I’ll admit. But I hear in your voice that you really do believe this, so…” She rubbed her eyes, trying to think. “I guess we need to talk. But whatever is going on, I agree about Howard. We now know that he was one of the first people who experienced this… thing. It sounds like you heard the theory that this is a virus. If it is, then Howard may be as close to a Patient Zero as we’re going to get. I saw him scratching the back of his hand that day at the hearing, and we know that’s a warning sign.”
She wasn’t sure what else to say, but figured she’d better sign off with something more positive, and maybe a little more optimistic.
“I hope you make it to Ogden, but if you don’t, try to get back to Richard Pratt’s house, and I’ll meet you there. Either way, call me as soon as you get this message. I have a squad car, and I’ll come and get you if need be. Howard will be safe, I promise. The cell phones seem okay right now, but I don’t know how long they’ll keep working, so please, call as soon as you get this.”
She paused and found herself inexplicably choked up. She fought back the tears and just said, “Take care of each other and stay safe. I hope I see you all soon.”
She hung up the phone.
Carla put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes. Now that she was off the phone, the tears came. But they were silent tears. She just sat alone in the car, letting them roll down her cheeks. A strange numbness began to claim her, like nothing around her could possibly be real. The feeling was strangely comforting, and she knew it would be the simplest thing in the world to let herself slip into it. But if she did, she wasn’t sure she could ever claw her way back.
Finally, she slapped her face, and the tears stopped.
I’m just exhausted, she thought. She hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours. The insanity of the city was draining her very life force, and now there was this…
As crazy as the message was, Michelle sounded sincere. She must have snapped from the pressure, and from whatever crazy line Howard was feeding them. But all Carla cared about in that moment was finding Howard, and now she had a substantial lead on where he might be. Or at least, where he had been.
She redialed the voice mail number, put the phone on speaker, and played the message again, listening closely to every word. As Michelle’s voice filled the car, Carla pointed her cruiser into the street and toward downtown.
The Last Handful of Clover is a supernatural thriller by Wess Mongo Jolley. Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying this story, please consider supporting the author on Patreon.
For more information (including maps of the story’s world and a contact form) visit the author’s website.
To read previous chapters of this book, go to the Table of Contents page.
If you’re interested in listening to the book, rather than reading it, the audiobook is available at the Patreon link above, and also as a podcast on iTunes, Stitcher, Anchor, and all other podcast platforms. Visit the podcast page for more details.
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