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    The Stricken
    The Stricken
    The Stricken
    Ebook141 pages2 hours

    The Stricken

    By Michael K. Trott

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    About this ebook

    San Cora, a vacation hotspot and prize of the Channel Islands, is hit by a mysterious blood red storm that turns its victims into an undead horde that is compelled to destroy all in its path. Duke, Gwen, and their friends are thrust into the chaotic events that the storm brings and must fight to survive. The creatures now terrorizing the island are no longer human, they are the Stricken.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael K. Trott
    Release dateAug 15, 2017
    ISBN9780645480108
    The Stricken
    Author

    Michael K. Trott

    Michael K. Trott is a writer who dabbles in all forms of writing but who specialises in horror fiction. His goal is to terrify readers under the guise of entertainment. Michael, born into a writing family, is studying for his Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and recently completed his first horror novella.

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      Book preview

      The Stricken - Michael K. Trott

      Chapter One

      For a tiny island, San Cora has beautiful scenery. But it’s not just the scenery that makes it a premier resort island. Each year during the summer, hundreds of tourists come to San Cora to enjoy the beach and the famous San Cora Festival. The annual arts festival, celebrating the discovery and founding of San Cora in the sixteenth century, is a cultural must see. People from all over the country, even from overseas, come to join in the celebration. Starting on midday on New Year’s Eve, and continuing for three days, the festival is San Cora’s time to shine. It’s a true spectacle.

      Gwen sighs as she watches the passengers from California disembarking the docked cruise ship. Sometimes, she thinks, these people are more trouble than they’re worth. Then again, they do make things a little more interesting while they’re here, so she guesses it’s not all bad. A moment later, she spots a man on his own struggling with his luggage and rushes over to assist him. I’ll help you with those, sir, she says without looking at him.

      Thank you, he replies, I’m on the fifth floor.

      Gwen and the guest start the short walk to the hotel located opposite the dock. Flowers of all colors line the dirt path and Gwen’s guest gazes upon them with silent awe. At the end of the decorated path is the hotel courtyard where a shuttle bus picks up and drops off guests with special needs or without any other transport.

      They walk through the wide hotel lobby toward the elevator. They ride upwards with several other passengers who get off at the third and fourth floors. Then it’s just the two of them. Gwen can feel the man’s eyes on her, trying to subtly gawk at her. But he leans over too far and loses his balance when the elevator stops at the fifth floor. Which room, sir? she asks, glaring.

      Sorry, what was that?

      Which is your room? she snaps. Sir, she adds with returned politeness.

      Ten. Room ten.

      The man follows Gwen along the hallway. Her father had the whole hotel refurbished for this holiday season. White walls, blue carpet, dull orange lights; the cool tones are a perfect distraction from the heat.

      The man opens the door and lets Gwen in first, staring down at her as she walks past him into the room. She places his bags against the wall. If there’s anything you need just dial zero for the front desk and they’ll look after you.

      Thank you very much. Here, for your help. He walks over to her and offers a generous tip.

      Thank you, sir. She looks him in the eye for the first time and his eyes widen when he finally sees the scars on her face. The look on his face says it all – the scars are hideous. She’s hideous. And just like that Gwen’s not smiling again.

      I haven’t missed the festival, have I? he asks quietly as his eyes dart to the floor, back to her face, back to the floor.

      No, Gwen says turning to leave. It starts in a couple of days.

      Sorry, but I haven’t been to San Cora before. In which town is it being held?

      There’s only one town on the island and it’s right across the road, she turns to leave again. Enjoy your stay, she says closing the door behind her.

      The elevator opens with a ding and Gwen steps inside. She looks at herself in the mirrored wall. Her reflection mocks her as if the man’s reaction still lingers, like dozens of eyes staring at her. She can’t help but look at herself. Hidden under her clothes, the scars branch off from her back down the left side of her stomach, left arm and leg, but two scars stretch up her neck and onto her face. One stops across her cheek just under her left eye while the other curls up above her eyebrow. She got a piercing there to try and hide the scar but it doesn’t help.

      She gets off the elevator and sees her dad at the front desk with some of the management staff. They at him as if his hotel could rival the Tower of Babel. He’s a handsome and kind looking man with salt and pepper hair. He’s a hard worker, but always manages to find time for fun. Hey, Gwen! he calls. Come here for a minute.

      Gwen drops her head and lets her hair cover her face.

      I need you to do something for me. Have you got time?

      Yeah.

      You know the lockbox on the Windbound?

      Yeah, why?

      I left my blue folder in it. Can you get it for me? He holds out a small key.

      Sure.

      Oh, and Gwen, he pulls her aside, away from the others. Put a t-shirt on, please, he whispers. It’s too hot to be wearing long sleeves. Or pants for that matter. Put on some shorts, too.

      No, Dad, she says a little too loud. This conversation always does more than frustrate her.

      Gwen.

      Dad.

      They look at each other for a moment, a silent battle that she always wins. Her father rolls his eyes. Fine, but drink water.

      Yes, Dad. She dismisses him with a wave of her hand and goes through the staff door behind the reception desk. She crosses the staff room and comes to another door, painted red. She unlocks it and steps inside the cold, dark boatshed.

      Just seeing the old family boat, her dad’s first, brings back a lot of happy memories. The Windbound is a little eight-meter boat moored at a private jetty, undercover and hidden away in the depths of the hotel. Only the family and a couple of senior management staff have a key to the door. The boat rocks a little as Gwen steps over the railing and onto the deck.

      She opens the door to the wheelhouse and finds her dad’s lockbox in the cabinet next to the wheel. She opens it with a small key and grabs the folder filled with important documents. Gwen locks the lockbox and walks over to the wheel, imagining herself steering the ship across the water to California. She’d never come back, but she knows that will never happen. The freedom of the sea offers endless possibilities, as well as imprisoning her on this island. She can’t help imagining the life she could have had…but never will. Job done, she locks the boatshed door behind her and makes her way back through the staff room to the lobby, back to the air-conditioning.

      Her father is waiting for her, alone, when she gives him the folder. As he gives her a loving thank you squeeze her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID and sighs. It’s not that Zane kid again, is it? Her dad asks.

      We’re having a get together on the beach tomorrow, before the tourists hog it all, says Gwen. She answers the phone and walks into the staff room.

      Hey.

      Hey, girl, Zane says over the phone, Just wanted to make sure you were still coming to the beach with us tomorrow?

      Yeah, of course, Gwen replies. Oh, and Kelly said you were going to ask Duke if he could come.

      Really? That punk ass bitch? I don’t really want him there, but hey, he’s your neighbor. You ask him.

      I will, she says, trying to smooth him over.

      Fine, but he better watch himself or I’ll kick his ass.

      I’ve got to go, Zane. I’ll see you tomorrow.

      Peace!

      Gwen hangs up the phone and turns it to silent.

      Personal calls during work hours? I guess daddy’s girl can do as she pleases. That whiny voice could only come from one creature.

      Belinda, Gwen says with a venom-laced tone laced tone as she turns around to Belinda, smiling broadly as she cocks her head to one side. She’d be pretty if she didn’t always have a sour look on her face.

      What are you doing here? Gwen asks.

      Didn’t daddy tell you? Belinda replies as condescendingly as possible. I’m covering for Amy today so we’ll be working together. She crosses the room and puts her bag in a locker. Just remember the distance rule, okay? she says slamming the locker door shut. I don’t want people to think we’re friends.

      Just do your job and we’ll be fine, Gwen replies.

      Belinda’s fake smile turns into a snarl and she advances on her, stopping just a few inches away. A head taller, she flicks out her long blonde hair as she looks down on Gwen physically and otherwise. You gonna run to daddy if I don’t? He’s the only reason you work here.

      Gwen doesn’t know how to respond. She never does when she’s being bullied. She turns her head to the side and casts her eyes to the floor.

      Belinda scoffs as she looks her up and down. The winter season’s over, sweetheart. Not that you ever seem to notice. But then I guess baggy clothes are the only way you can cover up that mistake you call a body.

      On her way out, Belinda bumps hard into Gwen’s shoulder. An ugly demonstration of her animosity. Gwen sighs. It’s going to be a long day.

      At a little over thirty, Mindy is older than Gwen and average across the board, though honest, kind, and good to work with. She walks into the room. Don’t worry about her, she says. She’ll be working for you one day.

      Gwen smiles at the thought. Thanks, Mindy.

      Later that day, Gwen is behind the front desk when she glances out the window at the perfectly kept flower beds beside the lobby doors. The flowers really are beautiful. The tourists think so too. Gazing at the sights, the last of them take their time to check in. Suddenly, something starts tapping on the glass. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

      What the…? Gwen looks around, but she can’t see anything. She leans forward, closer to the glass and finally sees it. It’s rain. She frowns as she looks up. There’s not a cloud in the sky.

      The gardens bounce under the weight of the rain drops and the tourists cover their heads as they hurry to get inside.

      Hey, Belinda says, totally unenthused.

      Gwen spins around in a fright and then takes a breath. What, she snaps.

      Belinda puts a hand on her hip and raises her eyebrows, her glum expression becoming even more sullen.

      Sorry, Gwen quickly adds.

      Belinda rolls her eyes and holds up a large ring of keys. We’ve gotta lock up.

      But… It’s raining outside.

      Wow, rain. On a day like this? Freaky. Belinda’s sarcasm isn’t meant to be subtle.

      Gwen frowns.

      I have to go now, Belinda hisses, tossing the keys to Gwen. "But I’m sure even you can handle locking up on your own. I just really don’t feel

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