Remote Beyond (The Beyond Book 3)

Book summary

In Remote Beyond, four survivors on an Illinois farm struggle against the undead in a post-apocalyptic world. Through historical accounts of Rome, 1960s England, ancient Egypt, and early America, Tyler uncovers past resurrections and cover-ups. With familiar faces from earlier tales, they confront an enduring mystery: the true reason behind the undead’s return.

Excerpt from Remote Beyond (The Beyond Book 3)

Compton, IL 2046

“He who breaks the law goes back to the House of Pain.”

Tyler found solace in repeating the words aloud before he began to work. Playing track five, Commercial one, from the album “Fine Malt Lyrics,” by the musicians “House of Pain,” which sampled the line from a film adaptation of The Island of Dr. Moreau, gave everything a surreal quality, which in turn made it easier to ignore any possible ethical dilemma. Not that ‘Purple’ would mind what Tyler was doing to him since Purple was already dead.

Some might have found sticking to the exact same routine every day somewhat tedious, but it helped manifest the atmosphere Tyler needed for his sanity. A few hundred days had passed since he’d last spoken to a living person other than Elaine, Uncle Bruckles, or Dr. Au. Anything that helped Tyler maintain an even keel in isolation was welcomed. The rest of them were fine, but after hearing the same stories for the thousandth time…

Once Tyler kicked things off with House of Pain, he would listen to “Dopesmoker,” by the band Sleep. It was one sixty-minute track. The opening line “Drop out of life with bong in hand” seemed especially fitting. Though, these days, he tried not to abuse either drugs or alcohol. Some days it was tempting, but he vowed after the last hangover, never again. Tyler was grateful Elaine had brought her stereo and allowed him to divert some of the energy from the generator. Of course, once they had installed the solar panels, the others didn’t gripe about it as much. Tyler sat back with the scalpel and surveyed the mess of the laboratory.

Calling it a laboratory was being kind.

Purple moaned and tried to move, but the duct tape had been too secure. Tyler hadn’t known Purple’s given name, but he had been wearing a t-shirt for the band “Purple Hill Witch.” Not to mention, keeping the man anonymous made the upcoming vivisection easier for Tyler to endure. Thankfully, whatever had happened to Purple and the rest of the undead had blunted their nervous systems, so they didn’t respond to pain. Tyler had stood a picnic table vertically and secured Purple to the topside. Purple was standing, but he was fastened to the table. Part of Tyler’s daily routine was to make sure the duct tape was secure.

Tyler wasn’t deluded into thinking he was going to discover a cure. During the first few months, all the different governing bodies offered various theories of what might be the root cause of the reanimation of the dead. Not to mention, there had still been groups of people who refused to believe the dead had come back, and they typically weren’t shy about voicing their opinions.

During what had then just been called a plague, the following possibilities were suggested as to the cause: First, Klüver–Bucy syndrome; some of the symptoms included trying to eat inedible objects or objects not meant for consumption. People suffering from Klüver–Bucy also seemed to exhibit signs of dementia. They were easily distracted, had trouble recognizing familiar things, and while catatonic, were easily prone to violent outbursts.

Another possible cause had been the disease encephalitis lethargica. It was rare, but there had been an outbreak during the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918. Those who suffered from encephalitis lethargica had hallucinations, would succumb to stupors, and become catatonic. However, even a minor disturbance might send them into a rage. Similarly, they also exhibited shuffling gaits when they walked as well as motor defects. Both suggestions seemed implausible, but in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic 20 years previously, anything was possible. Certain groups continued to ignore the evidence, but eventually, it was too obvious for anything else to be an acceptable answer except for the reanimation of the dead. Once the event became officially recognized, many had wanted to use a variation of “Living Dead,” but that had been trademarked by the filmmakers of that series of films.

Tyler finished his work for the time being. He needed a break, so he turned off the song and placed a hood on Purple’s head. At this point, Tyler was looking for other efficient ways to stop the undead. Somehow, the prefrontal cortex, which among other things was responsible for impulse control, was no longer functioning. As far as anyone knew, the rest of the brain continued to operate. Therefore, the only means for dispatching the dead had been decapitating them or destroying the brain.

Rumors persisted about secret laboratories in which CDC-funded doctors were developing a cure. In the beginning, Tyler might have given that idea some credence. Now, though, he had resigned himself to the fact that this was life. The goal now was to acclimate to isolation and figure out other ways to incapacitate the living dead. Realistically, he knew it was futile. The dead would eventually win out. Different mathematical models had been offered to try to predict the potential outcomes based on how quickly decisions were reached. None of the predictions came to fruition since communication had essentially ended before anyone could chart the growth of the plague, but Tyler didn’t need a projection to reach that conclusion. He also wouldn’t give up that easily.

He made his way into the living room.

The house had been part of a corn farm abandoned by its previous owners. Either that, or they had succumbed to the undead. The first week on the farm, the four of them; well, everyone except for Uncle Bruckles, who was stationed on the roof with his rifle, collected the remaining edible corn and then razed the field by setting it on fire. It gave them a better perspective and fewer hiding places for the undead.

As a mechanical engineer, Tyler had ideas on how to make the house impregnable. There had been enough raw materials around to construct something sturdy. Tyler would conduct strength tests a few times a week and replace anything that looked worn. Elaine had grown up in the area, so she was familiar with places they could ransack when they were low on supplies. She was the one who originally suggested the farm. She and Tyler had known each other and become friends before the craziness got out of control. They had been keeping in touch and both decided they needed safer quarters. Rather than go their separate ways, they agreed to team up.

“I used to take horseback riding lessons there when it was a horse farm.”

They had been on the phone, back when signals were scarce but still an option. Tyler had floated a few ideas of places they could go, but they all seemed to fall apart under any scrutiny. The horse farm sounded like a good idea. Elaine listed a few of the obvious benefits of the farm as a potential stronghold. She had been prepared to dig deep, but Tyler had already acquiesced. Elaine was also a sous chef and said she’d be willing to prepare all of the meals for the house. As a plan began to formulate, Tyler said he would reach out to his uncle, who was already anticipating an end-of-the-world event, so he was prepared, armed, and handy with a rifle.

“Yeah, you’re getting old,” Bruckles said aloud and shook his head. He was lying on a table while Dr. Au was putting pins in his feet to help with his neuropathy. It had become part of the ritual for Uncle Bruckles to recite the last thing his physician had told him during a visit after he had complained of discomfort.

“You’re getting old.”

No matter what Bruckles had said, whatever questions he had for his doctor, that would be the response. The tone of the doctor’s delivery is probably what annoyed Bruckles the most since the doctor kept reciting it as if it was common knowledge that aging was the reason for all of his complaints. That was the last time he had put his faith in Western medicine. He had begun to see Dr. Au soon after.

Among other areas, Au had been an acupuncturist. Bruckles had been on a visit to the man when Bruckles’ nephew Tyler had called. Bruckles would have argued against it if people labeled him a doomsday prepper, but he had been prepared for any potential collapse, be it economic or otherwise. When Tyler called and confirmed the bottom had fallen out of the world, Bruckles decided to ask Dr. Au to join him and leave town. Many would have scoffed, but Dr. Au had been keeping tabs on things and knew this would be the best opportunity. They could stop off at Au’s home on the way out of town. Bruckles kept his car gassed and stocked with provisions and firearms; he did live in Florida after all.

Later that day, they were on the highway heading to Illinois. Tyler had been in Detroit and Elaine in Chicago, so it was relatively easy for the two of them to get there. The farm was in Compton, Illinois. They gathered in a parking lot of a nearby high school; home of the Compton Hawks. Uncle Bruckles had demanded they meet beforehand instead of showing up one at a time in case other people had already staked out the farm.

“The last thing we need at this point is engagement with the living when we’re not prepared.”

He distributed firearms to everyone, gave a quick course on how to operate them, suggesting there would be a more comprehensive lesson later, and together they drove to the farm. Tyler played the song “Straight Outta Compton.” Fortunately, the farm had been abandoned, and at some point gave up horses for corn. Tyler thought Bruckles was a little disappointed at the lack of a showdown, but he never said anything.

For a few months, they laid low and watched civilization on the brink. Eventually, the Emergency Broadcasting Notice was on every channel, and it wasn’t long after that most computer servers went down, so the internet became obsolete.

Regardless, they managed pretty well.

It hadn’t been like Tyler had imagined with legions of the undead walking around out in the open. Of course, the dead didn’t hide, but so much of the experience was unlike his expectations. Initially, the breakdown of society went how the films or television shows had portrayed it previously. People in the cities got it the worst. The first few months, the same clips would show on either television or the internet. Initially, the stations would offer warnings about what they were going to show, but in time, watching the dead feed on the living had become so common that they no longer suggested parental guidance. Once the dead returned, the innocence of childhood ceased to exist.