《The Yellow Wave》 The Desert Morgan drove. He had been driving for a few days now. He drove towards the west, towards the coast, to the beautiful waves. Cold waves, different from the abnormal heat currently feasting on him and his car. All windows were opened, and there was little wind, the chances of being swarmed by sand were minimal. The first lie Morgan told himself, for he drove through a desert, and was thus always swarmed by sand. Black asphalt, decaying stripes of white paint, and the occasional piece of trash were his only companions on this trip. These roads were empty, and he felt more lonely than ever. This was the second lie Morgan told himself, for he was accompanied by a plastic bottle of lukewarm water. A Colt M1878, two backpacks, and a canoe strapped to his roof. Not to mention the remains of his wife located in the trunk of his car. The plastic bottle smelled funny, as if the water inside was some stale muck. Which it was not when Morgan traded it for a can of beans, it was ice-cold back then. If only he had brought along a proper cooling box, and a sun hat perhaps. He also should have asked for two bottles, lord knew when he came across another human being. This was the third lie Morgan told himself, as in the far distance, he could see a building with a figure standing next to it. When the distance between him and the figure decreased, Morgan''s weary eyes were struck with surprise. The building itself was an abandoned motel, a run-down crack house for desert junkies. This was not surprising of course, as no business could bloom in this desert. The figure was what struck him. A girl, the closer he got the younger she became. Dressed in dust-covered clothes, her hair bound together and sheltered with a plastic bag. Around her stood a few bags and even a suitcase, all covered with rags. As if the sun would melt them without protection. Morgan slowed down before coming to a stop. She blocked the road, standing still until she decided to take action. With small steps, the girl approached the driver''s side of the car. With the window already lowered, Morgan leaned outside and waited. She stopped, her sun and sand-tainted face showed agony and desire. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She pointed at her mouth, and Morgan knew what to do. "Just a sec'' missy.." He leaned back inside, grabbing the bottle of funny-smelling water. That was his fourth lie, for he grabbed the Colt instead. After leaning outside again, Morgan was greeted by the barrel of an M16, almost borrowing itself in his left nostril. Her face was blank now, those begging eyes had turned into the coldest things this desert could produce. Taking the risk -because let''s be honest, what did he have to lose?- Morgan showed her his barrel, much shorter but still deadly. She did not move nor blink, and Morgan spoke. "You want the ride or the supplies?" The duo kept their guns locked in the air. "Both please." She replied, her voice hoarse and dry. "How ''bout just the ride?" Like the fool he was, Morgan had forgotten to pull back the hammer of his Colt, which he now did. At least it underlined his words. "Fine. Are you going to the coast?" Her resistance started to crumble, and Morgan could see she was just another victim like him. "Of course, the only way to outrun the yellow wave is to catch the blue one. Ya lowering the gun or what?" With both regret and relief, the girl complied. Morgan doubted the scratched thing was even loaded. She now looked defeated but relieved at the same time, who knew how long she had been walking on her own? From the pile of luggage she only grabbed the suitcase, shoving it onto the backseat next to the backpacks. Having done that, she took seat next to Morgan, who reeked of sweat and wood. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there."Could I still have that water?" The engine rumbled, dust and sand were thrown in the air. "Of course." Morgan''s ring-covered fingers switched gears, the car''s dirty wheels crushed whatever was left behind. Silence settled for exactly 12 seconds. "Do you know if it can be removed? The cones?" The motel disapeared, swallowed by the road again. "Last town I passed had a doctor telling me it could be removed, no idea how though." This was his fifth lie. For the last town he passed had been empty, and his wife was still in his trunk, coned. "Got anything to eat?" The sun had started to sink behind those dark-brown mountains. In the distance, Morgan could see some buildings. A small town perhaps? Not that it mattered, not a single light came from the place, and he would not rest before he felt those blue waves. "Take one of ''em backpacks and help yourself." Both survivors had been eyeing eachother during the ride. A quick glance, question or request. Their names remained a secret to eachother, names did not matter anymore, and it would only make saying goodbye worse. "Canned food?" Her small, yet scarred hands held up shiny cans of peas and meat. "Aye, my wife told me those would be safe to eat. Anything else could give us the cones." His wife had told him many things about this plague that struck humanity. Without her, he would have stayed in that cozy cabin until the wave came to get him. He rarely visited town, unlike her. "My dad said not even the canned food is safe, because there''s liquid inside." Morgan maneuvered around a dark car in the middle of the road, opened doors and empty seats. Oil was splattered on the ground, or at least, it looked like oil. "We can''t just starve to death either, here''s a fork." From a plastic bag between his feet, Morgan grabbed a silver fork. The bag contained other valuable items as well, the few things he had taken from his home. Back when he still thought there were people left to care about shiny things. "My dad also said that the disease is made by nature." Using a can opener, the girl now filled her mouth with sloppy sausages. "That it''s meant.. to help us." Her words were obstructed by the fabricated meat, and suddenly Morgan remembered she was no object, but an actual child. "Yeah? He should''ve taught ya some manners, close yer mouth." She complied, swallowing words and food. "My wife thought it was some government experiment gone wrong, since the pictures of those lobster-men showed up beforehand.. But personally I do not care what caused this mess, I just want to get out." "Where''s your wife now? I assume in the same place as my dad.." She stated the death of her father like a simple fact. Even though her eyes told him otherwise, the rest of her body seemed to have moved on, as it was the only way to survive. "Somewhat yes." Morgan''s eyes betrayed him as well. "The cones consumed ''er body, and she''d rather die than become a living plant." Darkness started to swallow the world, the car''s lights were switched on and Morgan prepared for the worst part of the day. "You can sleep if ya want, use my jacket as a pillow." For the first time she smiled, tired yet warming. He swapped her empty can for his jacket, throwing the container out of his window afterwards. The girl quickly sunk into a deep sleep, lord knew how long she had have to stay awake. Morgan leaned forwards and groaned softly. Sleep had been absent to him for quite some time, as if his body did not need to rest anymore. Stress? Strength? Cones? Those thoughts alone kept him awake during the ride, and he was happy at least one of them would have a peaceful night. This was his sixth lie, for the girl would never stop sleeping. The Plains Surrounded by whirling, angry sand and wind, the girl woke up in an unknown car. Her mouth tasted like sea salt, and her vision was blurry. This was not her bed nor her room, and she started to moan in agony, another nightmare. Suddenly, a long hand reached out for her and softly pushed her shoulders. Besides the roaring sand, another sound pierced her ears. "Missy? Are you alright?" She looked to her right. A slender, olive-skinned man sat in the seat next to her. Disheveled hair and a week-old beard, dressed in a smelly t-shirt, he looked just like her father. "Dad?" The man frowned, the glass windows around him being nothing but a shifting mess of black and brown. "No missy, you''re still in here with me. Car-man. Remember?" And now she finally did, as if the driver had flipped some switch in her head. It felt like she had awoken from a coma. "How? H-how long have I been sleeping?" Car-man frowned deeper, leaning closer to the front window as he fiddled with some buttons on the dashboard. "A whole day by God! Thought you weren''t going to wake up." Under his breath, he cursed. "What the fuck?" The car started to slow down, and she peered through the window to see what caused this. "Why don''t you just drive around them?" The road ahead was partially blocked by two firetrucks. Diagonally parked at the side of the road, one lane was still free. "Because I saw something move." Showing his surprisingly clean teeth to the storm, car-man grabbed his colt with one hand. "An ambush perhaps. Fucking inbred desert-junkie scum.." He continued driving forwards. Her own hands could only hold on to the door at her side. The long gun she used to kill that woman was broken, busted up by sand and sun. She left it to rot when the driving stranger took her in. "Come and get it fuckers. Come and get it.." A new and stronger gust of wind made the canoe on the roof shudder, they were now next to the firetrucks, was it really a gust of wind? "Come.." She peeked outside, nothing but sand. She looked down at the road, asphalt less affected by the storm. A pair of deep-blue eyes stared back at her amidst a puddle of black goop. Horrible eyes, empty eyes, human eyes. She screamed at the top of her lungs, yet firmly kept her hand on the door. Her body seemed to collapse, yet whatever was out there would not come inside, not on her watch. "What?!" The car jolted. Either the man had pressed the brake, or something else stopped the car. "Someone under the car! Underneath! I saw-" Before her sentence could be finished, the engine moaned and her head smacked against the back seat. Car-man accelerated, gripping the wheel with one hand and the clutch with the other. Somehow managing to shift gears and hold the revolver at the same time. "Come and get it! Fuckers!" Still focused on her side of the vehicle, the small survivor did not know that her companion was about to battle shadows with steel. Another jolt went through the car, way heavier and more abrupt. Her head was flung towards the dashboard this time, and the world faded once more. An explosion of brown and black, with two blue eyes in the middle of it all. She told herself she would die, which was the seventh lie, for her body was prepared. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The burning star that was the sun had swallowed the winds whole, and the peaceful yet burning desert returned. He was close now, according to the map, the desert would soon turn into a more humid area. He would make it, he would reach the waves. Morgan let out an animal-like moan as he stared at his little companion once more. A bottle of lukewarm whiskey managed to clean the salty taste left in his mouth, yet it did not clear his vision. She was laying on her back. Morgan had pulled the handle to fully lower the seat, a bed big enough for a child like her. Yet she was no child, not anymore. During the three days after the accident she had undergone some changes. Morgan had wrapped her forehead in bandages, blood leaked out after she hit her head. He had fed her, and attempted at given her the few medicine present. Nothing helped, her breathing became slower and her eyes never opened, yet she did not die. Now he stared at a moving blanket, covering her body but not her head. Those bandages had turned filthy, tainted with black blood. It seemed like they were glued to her face, stronger than Morgan had ever wrapped them. Removing them was an action he could not perform. The veins in her neck turned black as well, like tar rushed through them. Whatever happened underneath the blanket was not good, something was growing. It were the cones, and Morgan knew he had them as well. Yet he refused to end her or his life. The waves would bring salvation, blue waves to fight the yellow ones. "Keep fighting little one." Keeping his eyes locked on the empty road, Morgan gulped down another swig of whiskey. It had no effect, merely warming his mouth and temporarily washing away the sea-salt. If only Robert could see him now, wherever he was now. His past hunting partner made Morgan realize how lonely he had been, and that it was important for this girl to make it to the sea. She needed salvation, otherwise she would turn in whatever he hit back during the storm. On the hood of his car was a large dent, and a splatter of now fading black ooze. He had ran over the bastard as if it was a crossing raccoon, fucking disease. The last bit of liquid courage was swallowed, and he mumbled. "It ain''t right, babe no." They passed a sign, in the background Morgan could see dry trees and weed sprouting along the road. "It ain''t right, lord no." The desert had been left behind, and while the hunter looked into the mirror to see the sands disappear, he noticed his pupils had turned deep-blue. "It aint right, fuck no." The beginning of the end. This was the eight lie, for it was the beginning of something new. The Valley In the following two days, Morgan had stopped once. It was before his legs got glued to the seat, and before he started fearing the sun. It was at a gas station, abandoned like everything else, but still operational. The power was out but there were some jugs in the store. This was also the moment he found out that perhaps even death could not stop the disease. In the station''s toilet there hung a noose, sturdily attached to the ceiling pipes. Yet there was no corpse, only black goo all over the rope and chair underneath, leading to the opened window above the only toilet. Speaking about goo, Morgan found it leaking from his ears whenever the sun shone on him for too lung, making it difficult to ride during the day. Luckily he had grabbed a cap and some patrol sunglasses from the gas station, covering his arms with bandages, the girl was still laying on his jacket. She had now turned into something Morgan had only seen from the news. "It ain''t right.." Now his legs were glued to the seat, as if the skin had grown into the soft fabric without him even knowing it. Only when he attempted to get up he could feel it resisting. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience."Lord no?" His wife? His wife?! She was gone, he had checked the trunk after seeing the empty noose. The trunk was empty, black goo and a sharp smell. She was brought back, but when did she leave? "It ain''t.." No matter, Morgan was here and now. Driving through a hilly terrain with rocks and grass. He was here with her, and he was very thirsty. For some reason he needed more and more water to think straight, it not only kept his mouth fresh, but his mind as well. Luckily there was enough water from the gas station. Apparently he took that as well, what a funny coincidence. "Lord.." She drank a lot of it as well, must be the cones that demanded enough fuel to grow. He could feel them poking in the joints of his knees, soon they would come out. Morgan needed to get a grip, he was so fucking close, two more days. "I will sail.." The nineth lie, for he would walk. The Coast "My name is Morgan, I drive towards the waves. Me and my companion are infected." He spoke out loud at the sky zooming past him. His lower body had disappeared from his mind, yet Morgan refused to look down. His neck and ears itched, yet he refused to scratch. "My wife is dead, my friends are dead. But I am alive." The car passed a large billboard depicting a coastal town with a sunny sky. The opposite of what he now saw, there were heavy clouds in the background, and no town yet. Rain would be welcome however, now his entire body begged for water. After he reached the waves, he would go for a short swim. "My name is Morgan, I drive towards the waves. Me ah-" A stream of black goop erupted from his mouth, splattering over the steering wheel. Dripping down onto the floor where it had formed a small puddle, just like the girl. Must be third time this day, his stomach probably did not feel to well. Morgan wiped some droplets off of the window with a rag, seeing that almost all of his nails had fallen out. Not a problem, an accident. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site."My name is Morgan.." -plop!- Suddenly, he could hear nothing but static in his right ear, as if he put it into a sea shell. Warm fluid rolled down his neck, Morgan''s fists clenched the steering wheel. "My name.." Just keep your feet on the gas pedal, just drive, drive and drive. The roads are empty, the world is empty. Nothing but driving matters anymore. "The waves.." His tongue felt heavy, his teeth were no longer where they were supposed to be. It was warm. "Tche wavesch..." Perhaps he could still grab the gun? Perhaps he was too far gone? "Wsasches..." it wasn''t right, lord, was it? He would make it, he would, he fucking would. He would make it, he would. For her, for him, for them. This was no lie, but the honest truth. The Sea Morgan drove, he had been driving for a whole day now. He drove towards the west, towards the coast, towards the waves. Cold waves, fresh waves. Different from the dry air he inhaled now. The car slowed down, the road ahead was blocked. Tons upon tons of cars were parked on both lanes, doors opened and seats empty. He could hear the sea caressing the sand. So close. With screeching tires, the car made a full turn, going off-road onto the mossy pavement. It drove through an empty city center, crushed trash and scared off pigeons. It then found some not-so steep rocks, and it descended. A very bumpy descent, yet the car pulled through. The canoe however, did not. Those ropes finally snapped, and it fell off. The car drove on, it slipped through the sand until finally coming to an end. Very close to the sea, the last stop. One last moan from the trusty engine. It remained silent for a while, until the door at the drivers'' side was pushed open. A sloshing, wet creature stepped out, heavily leaning against the car. With calculated steps, it maneuvered around the vehicle to the other side. Blue eyes were locked onto the ocean, and it let out a high-pitched ''gurghl''. Three antennas were sticking out of its head, flowing with the wind, freed from the metal cage. It opened the door, rubbish fell out. She was still laying there, underneath the blanket. She looked just like him. Carefully, the creature took her in his arms. A humid ''slosh'' came from her seat, and nothing but black goop was left behind. The child wrapped her muddy arms around his wet waist, and the creature let her head rest on his shoulder. Then he walked. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The Embrace Morgan walked, he had been walking for a few seconds now. He walked towards the west, towards the sea, towards the waves. Cold waves, embracing waves, familiar waves. Better than the dying world he left behind. With the girl in his arms he walked into the sea. And it was right, lord yes.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Thank you for getting this far dear reader, I hope you enjoyed this short and strange story. I am quite curious to hear your opinion about it, so I can either improve or continue. For it is you, dear reader, who brings my world and characters to life. Helder