The Infested

Content /Trigger Warnings

The Infested is a New Adult horror novel with adult themes, including but not limited to: eating disorders, anxiety, death, murder, light body horror, generational/family trauma, colonization and body image issues.

Dedication and Thanks

To Lia, Tot, Jareth and Vincent. My four beautiful, amazing children, who have all inherited my love of spooky stuff. May you all be free to live your lives the way you want, and love who makes you happy. Extra thanks to Tot whose personal experience in the park inspired a scene in this book.

To my husband Chris, my Boo- who is always supportive and lets me ramble on about my current project/obsession/fictional boyfriend. Without him holding down the fort none of this would ever get done. I love and appreciate you more than I can say.

To my mom, Carmen, who has encouraged my writing since I was small and even when it’s not her thing (like this creepy book) always beta reads for me.

To my sister Katie who always reads the roughest of rough drafts and tells me it’s amazing every time and is always excited when I have something new to show her.

And lastly, to my bestie Lucy who doesn’t understand the writing world and really doesn’t care about New Adult and YA horror but still helped me with plot holes, problematic scenes and listened while I talked (way too much) about characters and events she didn’t understand or have interest in, but was excited for me with every step.

This is for all of you.

Bright Blessings!

Chapter 1

May 1900

Day 1

Ash Hollow

The United States is Infested, and humans poisoned it.

They traversed the great divide between the East and West Coast and died along the way.

They killed each other, starved, died of diseases, buried their dead without proper ceremonies, and abandoned items they no longer wanted.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that the land turned on them.

Demons are real. Spirits haunt the world. Monsters dwell in the shadows and forests. Ghosts float over the plains. Things feed on the dead, infest swamps, and scour deserts.

Trace a finger on a map of the United States to outline the barrier on either side of the Infested. Follow the lines of Montana and Wyoming, veering left to surround Utah and straight down to Arizona, finally connecting with Mexico.

Then again, from Lake Superior and Wisconsin’s tip, following a jagged line that goes past Illinois, Tennessee, Mississippi, and straight down, ending in Mexico’s Gulf.

This is in the invisible barrier between the West and East Coast, and all that lay between is the Infested. A dangerous land, full of monsters. 

The East is overpopulated, busy, advanced, cultured, and full of politics, lavish foods, and sin.

The only people to come to the West from the East are the brave, the desperate, or the stupid.

One can try to cross through Canada or by boat and come up through Mexico—but it is illegal. Those countries fear America, and they fear that Americans will bring with them the madness that affects their lands. Getting caught by their government is a death sentence.

It is a three-month journey from Illinois to Wyoming, and even longer trying to pass through the salt flats to Utah or traveling to the green of Oregon or California’s coastlines.

When people first decided to travel West and see what splendor lay on the other side of the U.S., they knew there would be issues like famine, disease, drought, extreme temperatures, and wild animals.

They didn’t respect the land or each other, and many paid the price.

As each wagon train departed, the tales of what lay beyond Illinois became darker and the number of people making it to the West got slimmer.

More than 600,000 people decided to cross the trails West between 1811 and 1830, and only about half made it. The plains didn’t turn sour overnight. It took years for the government to figure out whole trains had gone missing and even more time to find out why. Finally in 1835, the government from the East forbade any more wagon trains West. The West, cut off from many luxuries from the East, put time and money into retaking the trails and making the Infested safe enough for the shipment of goods.

Two caravans make the journey West to East. On odd years one from Utah to Illinois, and on even years from Oregon to Missouri, sometimes they come and go with no issues. Other times, they never come back. They bring back supplies and news, paid for by the gold and silver found predominantly in the West.

Almost no one lives in the Infested, and only a few families, like the Ash family, made it their home.

They had no neighbors, no church, and no stores near them. They didn’t even know what it would be like to have people around to talk to other than themselves. The Wyoming border, where the West began and the Infested ended, was 150 miles away.

For Desdemona and her siblings, home was all they knew. The books in the parlor and office were the only windows to the outside world.

Home was a giant two-storied monstrosity in the middle of nowhere, turning sand brown against the elements, chipped blue paint slowly wearing away. Green prairie grass spotted the ground with tiny flowers all purple and white. Several buildings dotted the land, as well as animals.

The air tasted dry like despair. Desdemona stood behind the house, an acre away from the garden and feet away from the boundary fence. That fence marked an edge of their property. A warded magical barrier that kept the worst of the horrors outside.

She stared at her shoes, black boots with curled ends. She didn’t want to look up, couldn’t look up. As the oldest, even if only by twenty minutes, she had no choice. She raised her head.

Her siblings stood in a circle, surrounding a mound of dirt. They all appeared tired, haggard. They leaned on shovels and breathed heavily.

In their faces, she saw her own. The same grey skin, lavender eyes, and unruly curly black hair but in various lengths. She studied each of them. She wasn’t ready to speak. Their chins were all round with the same dimple. They each had a pointed nose, though Ambrose’s was crooked. They looked like exactly what they were—quintuplets.

If she stared at her siblings hard enough, could she forget what they were doing out here? They all had pouty lips, but their smiles were different. Helen had a chipped front tooth and Rowena, a gap between two of her bottom teeth. Ambrose’s lip curled in the corner and Marian sported an underbite. Desdemona tried to smile at them, her slight overbite grabbing her lower lip as they frowned at her collectively.

She would see none of their smiles today.

We should go inside, she told them and felt their communal sigh, saw the relief on their faces. She watched as they dropped their shovels to the ground.

They were done with this task.

We need to air out her bedroom, Helen said, hands twitching at her sides.

Burn the sheets and give it a good scrub. Ambrose’s voice, so much deeper than the others.

Tomorrow! We can do it all tomorrow! Marian practically wailed it, tears flooding her eyes.

It will be okay, Marian, Desi said. 

Annoyance filled her. It was just like Marian to act like a child. They didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.

It never will be again. I wish...

Marian! Ambrose exclaimed, hushing her.

Marian blushed, shame filling her cheeks. Sorry. I mean, I hope things are happier tomorrow.

Should we pack her things? Rowena asked. She gathered the fallen shovels, bending slowly like an old woman.

No, we should wait for father to get home, Desi said. It’s bad enough he wasn’t here for her burial.

She sidestepped a small headstone made of grey rock. The back half of their property was littered with them—dead babies, siblings she never saw or only briefly knew existed, grandparents, a few aunts and uncles, and several travelers who their mother and Helen couldn’t heal.

We should try and get back to normal, Desi said. That’s what they’d been taught. The Infested threw tragedy at you and you had to meet it. 

We just lost our mother! Marian exclaimed.

She’s right, Helen said. There is too much to do for us to all break down and start crying, and Mama wouldn’t want us to anyway.

They were quiet as they finished their walk back to the house. Weaving in and out of corn stalks and wheat, passing all manner of vegetables and fruit trees.

Do you think she suffered? Marian asked.

They climbed onto the back porch and kicked their boots off, hoping to leave some of the dirt and grime outside. Rowena piled the shovels up on the back porch.

I don’t know. Once Mom realized she was sick, she locked herself in. Desdemona tried not to think about how they’d listened for days to her cries and moans. Helen and Rowena had pounded on the door, begging to be let in. Until finally, after a week, it went quiet. No more shrieks and screams, just silence. Desdemona and Ambrose broke down the door to find her curled up on the bed, fist jammed in her mouth. Dead.

They walked in through the mudroom, past the large kitchen and pantry—the dining room door was closed on the right, the bathroom shut on the left—until they reached an enormous front parlor with large windows covered by thick green curtains, paled at the edges from being bleached by the sun.

Just be glad we didn’t have guests while she was sick, Ambrose said, plopping down on one of the settees, golden brown and ragged from over- and unkind use. 

Ugh, guests would have been a nightmare, Rowena agreed.

Their home was one of the few that specked the divide between the East and West: a haven against the monsters.

Guests? Desi scoffed, leaning against a wall and slowly lowering herself down to the floor. She hugged her knees, feeling the hardwood cool beneath her. We haven’t had guests since before Father left.

Those who were foolish enough to travel along the trail could seek shelter in the few warded zones along the way, whether a fort, outpost, or homestead. Along the entirety of the trail, there were maybe ten places of safety.

Their farm, with its giant wood plaque reading, Welcome to Ash Hollow, was one of them. It was fifty acres of land surrounded by death with a small river running through it.

As Desi tried to relax, she felt the panel behind her back. She wanted to forget about what it hid. Just another new responsibility.

Rowena and Marian squished together onto an oversized chair, holding each other tightly, while Helen threw herself onto the antique purple fainting couch. As they were all tall like their father, her feet hung off the end.

Dad will be back soon, right? Marian asked, tracing the spattering of her lilac freckles with a finger. They all had them, tiny purple specks in various patterns.

He should be, Rowena said, and he’ll bring presents and comforts from the East, just like last time.

Desi and her siblings never doubted he would come home. It was just a matter of time, a waiting game. Even before they were born, their father joined the Caravan coming from Utah once every other year and traveled back East for supplies. He led the Caravan once it made its way into the Infested. The members welcomed his input and leadership because he was one of the few men to successfully homestead within the Infested.

Desi figured more people could if they came in with reverence and if it wasn’t illegal to do so. The government of the West firmly regulated The Infested. There were laws about who could live there and any comings or goings. It kept the humans safe.

The Ash family had been there long before the law. Generations would live and die there. You had to have a certain amount of respect and fear in the Infested. There were rules you had to follow, rituals to perform and magic to cultivate. 

Marian began to weep and Rowena frowned at her, but hugged her tighter.

Marian, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us and I promise when father gets back, we will mourn her properly. We just can’t right now, Desi said. She had pain in her chest over the loss of their mother. She just knew that duty had to come before their emotions.

Mother would want us to continue on, as usual, Helen said. Cleaning, chores, our studies.

Her voice was so much like their mother’s—quiet and reserved. Her face was gaunt, making their glass-cutting cheekbones more prominent. She was probably starving herself again. Desi made a note to speak with her privately later.

And we will, but I think we’re allowed some time to grieve, Ambrose snapped. 

Desi was surprised he agreed with Marian. The two of them were always bickering.

Hey, hey. Enough. Desi glared at her siblings. You’re both right. And tonight, while you lay in your beds, cry, shriek, and rant to the world. Right now, we don’t have time for it. Father will come home and life will go on, like normal.

Her anxiety rose in her like a wave. She hushed it with her mantra; There’s nothing you can do about any of this right now. Breathe.

What if I don’t want life to go on as normal? Rowena asked. We can be sad all we want, but let’s not pretend that things were perfect. Mama was amazing, but she was also cold, strict and cruel.

Rowena, we all know what Mother was like, Desi said, trying to be kind. 

Their mother hadn’t always been the easiest woman. She was demanding and expected perfection. She was rarely physically affectionate, but she loved them. She protected them and she cared about their dreams and their happiness. It wasn’t black and white. Their world, like their skin, had shades of grey.

I just don’t want to be here, doing what she did, Rowena huffed. I don’t want to wind up like her, is all.

They all looked at Rowena with the same questioning expression.

What would you rather be doing? Marian asked.

Maybe when the Caravan drops Father off, I’ll leave with it. Go to the West and do something with myself, instead of dry up and die out here.

Why would you want to do that? Helen asked.

But Desi couldn’t blame Rowena for the thought, as out of the question as it was. They were nineteen now and she’d thought about it a few times herself. What would it be like to leave Ash Hollow? With their mother gone, what kind of future could they look forward to? But she knew this was an impossible dream, unless she went out into The Infested.

Like we’d be accepted anywhere but here, especially me, Ambrose said, running a finger through his short black locks that barely fell around his ears.

You’re perfect, just the way you are, Desi told him.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

Life is perfect here! Helen reminded them all. We grow things, heal things—here, we are free.

You sound like Mother, Rowena said. She crossed her arms over her chest. All we know is what she told us; what Father tells us. I’d like to see for myself.

I understand that’s what you want. We will speak about it later, Desi said. She raised a hand to hush the protesting. 

Desi would speak to her privately about how that wasn’t realistic. She would have to tell them all the truth sooner or later.

Don’t you want to see the world? Rowena asked them.

Well, I would like to get married and have children, Marian admitted.

Yuck. Why would you ever want to do that? Helen cringed.

Experiencing sex might be fun, Desi said.

"Sex? I’ve heard our parents often enough to know that is not something I ever want to do," Ambrose said, shuddering.

From the front gate, the sound of high tinkling stopped their conversation. Someone was calling, asking to be let inside the wards.

Travelers? Now? Helen asked, standing. 

She went to the window and peeked outside. A packed dirt path led from their front porch to the stables, outer pasture, several other small work buildings, and a tiny guest house. The path also led to a large wood gate an acre away that served as an entrance to their home.

There’s a small covered wagon out there, Helen said.

Just one? Strange, Marian commented.

Business as usual. Desi pulled her skirt out from the waistband of her black leggings and it dropped dramatically to the floor, a deep sienna color. She had a white tunic tucked into the skirt and a black waist cincher. Her hair was braided off to one side and she tucked a fly-away hair as she went for the front door.

This was standard ware in The Infested, appropriate for greeting guests.

Marian, into the guest house to make sure it’s company ready, Desi instructed as she tied on a crisp pinafore. Light the lamps. Make sure there is firewood. Ambrose, into the kitchen. They’re probably going to want food and drink. It’s almost supper time.

She opened the door and stepped into thick work boots. Rowena stood up to come with her. They might need help with their supplies or wagon, which was Rowena’s job.

Helen, gather up your healing supplies in case they have injuries and then plan to take their animals into the stables. 

Desi closed the door behind her and Rowena and then grabbed the shotgun from the gun locker on the porch. Desi didn't like to use guns, but it was sometimes necessary in the Infested. The only ammunition her family used was rock salt pellets. They were made special; if fired at something with living flesh, it would sting but not kill.

Unfortunately, this also meant it wouldn't kill something from the Infested, but it would slow it down. She slung the gun over her shoulder and started to walk to the gate.

As she got closer, the tension between her shoulder blades increased. This was always the dangerous part. These could be simple travelers looking for warmth, food, and safety before moving on—or they could be a trick. Monsters trying to lure them out of the safety of the wards.

There’s a hole in their wagon’s cover, Rowena said, and no spare wheel on the back.

The small covered wagon had seen better days. Rowena was right. Six straining horses pulled it, very thin, eyes wide with fear.

Desi didn’t speak; she had to concentrate.

This was her job. She was the only one of her siblings to inherit major magic. She focused on the wagon.

A woman, around the same age as Desi, sat in the driver’s seat. A yellow veil covered her face and a matching top hat sat jauntily on top of blonde curls. A thin, tall, handsome man stood by the gate. He rang the bell again and, once more, a sweet and high tinkle rang through the air, into Desi’s core, down to her soul, like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

Good evening! Desi called out, coming as close to the gate as she could, peering through the fence.

They both looked shocked. The woman gasped, but her blue eyes smiled above her veil.

Are you coming from East or West? Rowena asked. 

They didn’t answer, like they weren’t sure what to say.

You’re traveling from the West? Desi guessed.

Had to be. For fifty years, western women covered their faces with colorful veils.

Yes, the man said. He tipped his own black top hat and smiled. His face transformed, showcasing boyish good looks. Dark blonde hair slightly curled under his hat and his deep brown skin looked sun-baked. He couldn't have been much older than the woman.

Both their clothes looked worn and thin, like high-quality fancy wear that had seen much better days. Her blue and white poplin needed a wash, and several buttons and holes needed repair on his suit. Obviously, they dressed up like this was a fort, striving to make a good impression.

You’re alone? Desi asked, eyes looking to the distance.

We got cut off from the rest of our train, he said.

I’ve seen it happen more than you think. Spirit fog?

Spirit fog, he agreed.

Payment upfront, Desi instructed. The prices were written on a sign outside the fence. The amounts were non-negotiable and set by the government.

The man turned to his companion and they started talking. Every so often, her eyes flicked over to Desi and Rowena, and there was an unsettling emotion in them. One that made Desi warm and wary all at once.

Putting some coin into a bag, he threw it over the gate. Rowena caught it, counted it, and placed it in the pocket of her pinafore, nodding at her sister.

Releasing the gate wards, Desi removed the heavy locks and opened the gate, bracing her shoulder against the splintered wood and giving it a shove. She’d tell Rowena the gate would need replacing before the winter.

The couple drove their wagon in and a gust of cool air followed, tickling Desi’s nose. The sun was steadily setting behind them and she frowned.

That wasn’t a typical cool evening breeze—not for here and not for May.

Muttering the ward spell under her breath, she used both hands and put all her weight behind the gate to close it. She could hear something in the distance.

Something followed you, she grunted. 

She needed to get the gate closed.

Here, let me help. The man jumped down, slamming his own body into the gate. 

The temperature dropped and Desi’s nose tickled again—a sign of trouble. Rowena came forward and added her own weight. She was grinning.

As they slammed the gate shut and Desi reset the ward, something unseen hit the fence. The gate and fence line shuddered, and the woman in the wagon screamed.

Desi slammed the locks shut as another shudder went through the whole system. She could feel each ripple through the wards, but they were strong and she wasn’t concerned about them giving out. Desi doubted herself in many ways and worried about a thousand things, but the strength of the gate wards wasn’t one of them.

It’s okay, she said. You’re not in danger.

What is that? he asked.

You were led astray by spirit fog. Best guess, a Nebula. Shrugging, Desi watched as Helen came running from the house. Helen and Rowena will take the wagon and animals. We’ll see if we can repair any of it and install some ward bags so that you can, hopefully, get where you’re going safely.

Hopefully? the woman asked, breathless.

Best we can do. You knew the dangers when you decided to travel through the Infested. It sounded harsh, but that was the land they lived in, harsh and unforgiving. There was no way the wagon train they’d been with was legal. Any train worth its salt would have had a Bonum or