Cannibal Reign (13 page)

“Shit, we’re all fucked, Marty.” She shut his door and stepped back as he started the motor, then watched him drive off and crash through the fence at the back of the rest area.

The sergeant and another female soldier came walking over as the Jeep rolled away over the terrain.

“We’re on for eleven-thirty,” Sergeant Flynn said.

“Roger that,” said Emory. “What did you tell the lieutenant?”

“What do you think I told him? I told him the astronomer said we should roll due north.”

A
s they drove along over the rugged terrain, Susan was grinning at Marty.

“What?”

“You liked her.”

He laughed. “Well, guess which one of us
she
liked.”

Susan’s smile disappeared. “You’re making that up.”

“No,” he said. “Her exact words were: ‘She’s pretty, I’d jump ’er.’ ”

“That’s disgusting,” she said, crossing her arms and looking out the window.

He laughed some more.

“It’s not that funny, Martin.”

“Well, considering what we’ve been through today, Susan, I’d say it’s just that funny.”

Twenty

T
he sun was going down, and though most of the adults in Forrest’s flock were fairly inebriated, it was a sobering moment as each reflected that this could be the last sunset they ever saw. They sat watching it, the foundation of all their sunny days and brightest memories, shading their eyes as it faded to a darker orange, many of them whispering for it not to go. Even the youngest children seemed to be experiencing an instinctive sense of loss.

After it disappeared, the mothers gathered their children into their arms and held them tight, telling them how much they loved them and pledging that nothing would ever change that, no matter what the future held. Forrest stood watching over them all with Laddie at his side, a carbine slung across his back: a lethal talisman to ward off whatever evils might come to pass in the following months.

“By the time it gets dark,” Ulrich announced to the group, “we’d like everyone to be inside the house, but feel free to remain aboveground until midnight.”

“I guess it’s time we started moving this party inside, then,” Erin said, forcing herself to cheer up. “Who wants coffee?”

“I’ll help you make some,” Andie said, her gaze on Forrest for a long moment as she joined Erin on her way to the house.

Forrest watched as Joann Parker came strolling gracefully up to him, looking very solemn, leading her five-year-old daughter Beyonce by the hand.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” she said. “I’d just like to thank you for today. The rest of the world is suffering so badly right now . . . but you’ve managed to make today special.”

“It’s my privilege,” he said, kneeling to talk to her daughter. “How are you, beautiful? Did you have fun with Laddie today?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling and petting the dog’s ears. “Mommy says you’re an army man. That’s why you have a gun.”

“Well, I’m sort of an army man, yeah. But I only have a gun in case some bears come around and try to eat up all our food.”

“Bears?” she said incredulously, as if the idea of a bear in Nebraska was the craziest thing she had ever heard.

He laughed as he stood up. “Your daughter is apparently unaware of the growing bear population here in the Great Plains.”

Joann laughed, and for a moment she looked as though she wanted to say something more, but she excused herself instead and led Beyonce off toward the house.

Ulrich came over and stood at Forrest’s side. “Did you touch base with Jerry one last time?”

Forrest nodded. “He wishes us luck. He’s back in Havana now.”

They went inside, and the house was crowded even with everyone spread more or less evenly throughout the five rooms.

“Where’s Melissa?” Forrest asked Veronica.

“She’s out on the porch . . . she’s upset, Jack. It’s been two days, and she hasn’t been able to reach her parents with all the cell phone usage.”

He crossed the house and stepped out onto the porch where Melissa was sitting in a chair. Laddie was beside her, watching the night.

“What’s got you down?” he asked, taking the chair beside her and resting the carbine barrel-up against the railing.

“Can I see that?”

“Not right now. What’s got you down?”

“You know what it is,” she said, petting the dog.

He flicked his cigarette out into the yard.

“You should quit smoking.”

He took the pack from his pocket and set it on the windowsill. “How’s that?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got like ninety cartons downstairs.”

“So when’s the last time you talked to your parents?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and grabbing the carbine.

Veronica saw them headed for the basement and started to follow, but Michael stepped in front of her.

“Where are you going?”

She pointed after them.

“You don’t have to be in on every little thing,” he said. “Let her have some time with him.”

“Why aren’t you talking to your girlfriend?”

“I thought I was.”

“I don’t want to dance around this,” she said, suddenly frustrated. “Let me know if you decide to get to know her better.”

“I hardly think you’ve got room to criticize.”

D
own below in Launch Control, Forrest sat down beside Melissa, switched on the satellite phone and typed in a number from memory.

“But I thought you couldn’t—”

“Shh!”

The phone rang only twice.

“Jack, is that you?” someone answered over the speaker.

“Yeah, Jerry, it’s me. Thanks for picking up.”

“Has something gone wrong?” Jerry asked. “I didn’t think we were supposed to talk again.”

“I need a favor, Jerry.”

“Another one? Jesus Christ, Jack!”

“Hey, this one’s easy,” Forrest said. “I need you to patch me through to a specific cell phone number.”

“We’re on a military satellite, Jack. There are certain risks involved here.”

“What are they going to do, Jerry? Come and get you down in Havana after the meteor hits?”

“Give me the fucking number, you greedy pain in the ass.”

Forrest gave him the number. “Thanks, Jerry. Godspeed.”

“Same to you, old friend.”

A minute later the line was ringing.

“Hello?”

“Mom!” Melissa blurted.

“Oh, my God, baby! Are you okay? Stephen, it’s Melissa! Baby, we’ve been going crazy trying to reach you! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Melissa said, her voice cracking as she began to cry.

“Take all the time you need,” Forrest whispered, touching her on the head and leaving her alone in Launch Control, signaling Laddie to stay with her. He went back upstairs and out into the backyard, and half an hour later Melissa reappeared to find him at the picnic table smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you quit,” she said, sitting down beside him.

“I started up again.”

She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “We got cut off.”

“Military satellites will do that,” he said. “They prioritize every thirty minutes. I should’ve warned you.”

“At least I got to talk to them. Thank you.”

“You bet.”

She was silent for a moment. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

He smiled in the porch light. “Eventually.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“This has happened before, and mankind snapped right back.” He pushed a curl away from her sad eyes. “There’s no reason to assume we won’t make it.”

“Man hasn’t recovered from something like this.”

“No? Well, I’ve got a book downstairs written by that Ester Thorn lady on CNN. She says an asteroid hit a glacier on this very continent about thirteen thousand years ago during the last ice age—the Younger Dryas, she calls it. She says that’s what killed off the woolly mammoth and the saber-toothed tiger.”

“Well, cavemen were a lot tougher than we are.”

“They weren’t tougher than me,” he said. “I’d kick a caveman’s ass.”

She laughed softly, as Kane stepped out onto the back porch.

“Jack! You might want to come down and have a look at the news. Things are really going to shit in a hurry. Federal troops are firing on civilians in New York and D.C. . . . and it sounds like China just invaded eastern Russia.”

Twenty-One

E
ster Thorn took her eye away from the telescope at the Gemini Observatory and looked at Harold Shipman. “It’s so damn close now, just seeing it is enough to curdle an old woman’s blood.”

Shipman helped her to step aside so his friend from the local television network, Sam Ash, could have a look at the asteroid for himself.

When Ash peered through the eyepiece, what he saw reminded him somewhat of looking head-on at a spiraling football. If he blinked his eye, he could capture the briefest glimpse of a rocky-looking surface illuminated by the sun, but not much more. “It’s spinning wildly, isn’t it?”

“On a number of different axes,” Shipman said, “coming right at us at a hundred thousand miles an hour, made of almost solid iron . . . like an artillery shell.”

“An artillery shell as big as a town,” Ester grumbled, ambling off toward the office.

Ash followed them down the corridor. “Why do you suppose no one ever named it?”

“I suppose because why bother?” Shipman said. “No one knows who was the first to spot it, and that’s who typically names these things.”

“It’s the Chittenden Bolide,” insisted Ester, stopping in the office doorway and turning to rest on her cane. “But the world doesn’t need to hear that. Marty wasn’t looking for fame. He was looking to save lives. That’s why we’ve called you, Sam. We need your help with the media again.”

“You’ve got it. What do you need me to do?”

“We need a propagandist.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Up for it?”

“Well, I guess that depends,” he said with a glance at Shipman. “What am I propagandizing?”

“Opportunity!” she said. “In less than twelve hours the United States will be dead, and that’s going to leave us all alone out here on the ocean.”

“Where exactly is the opportunity in that?”

“In the Earth and its resources, primarily these islands and their waters. I don’t want to get all preachy with you, Sam, and I certainly don’t think we should get preachy with the people, but we’ve got a chance to get it right this time, and I’m willing to cheat to make that happen.”

Again Ash glanced briefly at Shipman. “Well, maybe you need to get a little preachy with me, Ester, because I’m not sure I follow you.”

“All right,” she began. “This has been a profit-based society for the last two hundred years, and that’s why we’re all about to die. Had this been a resource-based society . . . we would have stopped that asteroid a month ago—or even two months ago—because we’d have been prepared. So tonight we need you to go on TV and stress that very point. You accuse the government of allowing corporate greed to kill the Earth. You get the people angry, and by getting them angry you get them motivated to take action . . . Then you offer them a course of action to take.

“You tell them we’ll defy the failures of the past by working together to build a sustainable future this time, a future based on a partnership with this planet instead of endless exploitation. It won’t be an easy task, hell no, but nothing worthwhile ever is. Our inexcusable failure to stop this asteroid is testament enough to that.”

She tamped her cane once against the floor and stood looking sternly between the two men. “What do you say to that, Sam?”

Ash was thoughtful for a long moment. He rubbed his chin, then he cast his gaze back to Ester. “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean, you can’t do it?” she demanded. “You’re in charge of the network! You’re saying you disagree?”

“I’m saying I can’t sell it.”

“Hogwash! All you have to do is put some passion behind it!”

Ash looked at Shipman and smiled. “Honestly, Harold, am I the person to sell this . . . ‘opportunity’?”

Shipman smiled back, shifting his weight. “No. No, I don’t think you are, after all.”

Ester turned on him angrily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We mean, Ester, that it’s got to be you. You’re the one who brought us this far, and I’m sorry, but you’re the one who’s going to have to take us the rest of the way.” Shipman looked at Ash. “How soon can you get her on the air?”

Ash shrugged. “Within the hour if we leave now.”

“Now, wait just a minute!” Ester protested as Ash stepped toward her. “I’m an old woman. I can’t start a movement. I don’t have the energy for it!”

Ash put his arm around her shoulder, preparing to lead her down the corridor. “Ester, forgive me for saying so, but that’s bullshit. You’ve already started it, and I’m afraid you’re just going to have to finish it.”

“I didn’t start a goddamn thing,” she griped, taking a reluctant step forward. “It was Marty Chittenden who started it, by God, and now I’m the one left holding the bag!”

Twenty-Two

D
uring the final leg into Mesa, Marty kept the Jeep off the road. He drove parallel to the highway until the Mongols spotted them, then veered deep inland and southeast to terrain that was too rugged for the Harleys. By the time they got into town it was nearly dark, and judging by the loud music blaring from most of the houses, it seemed that the people in his neighborhood either didn’t believe the world was about to end or had decided to go out partying. People were drinking and carrying on, and a few were dancing naked in the middle of the street.

“Wow,” Susan said. “It’s like a rave.”

“It’s nice to see we’ve still got power.” He parked the car on the concrete drive and took the guns inside.

“I need a shower,” she said, dropping down on the couch.

“You’re in luck. I’ve got an electric water heater, but you’d better hurry because the power could go at any time.”

She stepped into the bedroom and crossed to the master bath, closing the door behind her. Marty heated them some canned soup, since the perishable food in the fridge had gone bad during his extended stay in California. She came from the bath a little while later and sat at the table in his robe, eating her soup. Her wet hair was wrapped in a towel, and he thought she looked so amazingly sexy sitting there in his robe that his throat tightened and it was difficult for him to swallow. He was about to compliment her but didn’t trust himself to conceal the intensity of his attraction, so he tried not to look at her as he ate.

“The water’s still hot,” she said, pulling the towel from her head and buffing her hair dry.

“Okay,” he said, his voice throaty. “Thanks.” He was recalling the sight of her naked breast at the rest stop earlier that day, the strawberry nipple, and was looking forward to getting a shower of his own. He got up and took the guns from the table with him into the bedroom, where he set them down on the dresser.

Susan followed him in and sat down on the bed. “Would you mind leaving the bathroom door open so we can talk? I’m still a little scared.”

“Um, yeah . . . okay,” he said, disappointed; now it would be almost impossible for him to jerk off without her realizing it. He undressed, turned on the shower, and stepped in beneath the water, closing the door to the stall.

“Are you in?” she called.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I need to brush my teeth,” she said, coming into the bathroom. “I found a new brush in the drawer. Can I use it?”

“Absolutely.” He stood in the shower willing his erection to go away, but it wouldn’t. Maybe if he soaped it up and was quiet about it, he could manage without her knowing.

“I wonder if they’ll party all night,” she said, brushing her teeth in the mirror.

“I don’t know,” he said. He loved her company, but she was making this difficult.

She handed his toothbrush and toothpaste over the top of the shower wall. “Here you go.”

“Uh . . . thanks.”

“You’re not masturbating in there, are you?”

“No!”

“You’d better not be. That would be disgusting.”

“Shut up, Sue.” He began to wither after that, so he went ahead and brushed his teeth, careful to keep his head and shoulder wounds out of the water.

“Hurry up and get out of there,” she said. “I’ve got an idea.”

He made a face at her from behind the smoked glass and waited for her to leave the room, turning off the water and yanking a towel from the ring on the wall as he stepped out. He dried himself and wrapped the robe around his waist before going into the bedroom, where Susan sat on the edge of the bed with the covers turned down.

“If we’re going to do this,” she said, “there have to be some rules.”

“Do what?” he asked in shock, his erection suddenly back on the move.

“Duh, Marty! What do you think?”

“You’re not serious!”

She couldn’t help snickering at him. “Well, if you’re not interested . . .”

“I’m interested! I just can’t believe it. Susan, you’re—”

“No kissing and no oral,” she said, holding up a finger to cut him off. “And no dirty words.”

“Okay,” he croaked, his throat constricting with the realization that it was really going to happen.

“And you have to promise not to come in me . . . I can’t believe you don’t have any condoms stashed, Marty. What kind of guy doesn’t have at least one condom in his bedroom?”

“The kind who never gets laid,” he retorted.

“Well, that’s what you get for wasting your time waiting for me.”

“But it wasn’t a waste of time, Sue . . . you’re here.”

She couldn’t help feeling touched, and was damned if she couldn’t feel herself blushing as well. “Well . . . get that towel off and let’s have a look at you.”

When he took off the towel, she was startled by the size of his erection. “Oh, Lord,” she said with a laugh, covering her mouth.

He covered himself quickly, turning red. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s . . . it’s huge, Marty. I had no idea you were so well endowed.”

“Does that mean the deal’s off?”

“No,” she said, secretly thrilled. “But you have to promise to be gentle.”

“Of course!”

“And not just because of your size . . . you know?”

“I know,” he said quietly, remembering her secret.

She stood up and slipped out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor. Marty went to her and held her tenderly in his arms. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Do you mind if we start with me on top?” she asked, timid now.

“Anything you want, Susan.”

They got into bed and somewhat clumsily found their positions, Marty flat his on back and her straddling his waist, trying without success to mount him.

“I’m sorry,” he said self-consciously. “I’m too big, aren’t I?”

“No,” she said. “I’m just a bit . . . would you mind going down on me?”

He laughed. “Are you crazy?”

A few minutes later she mounted him again and this time there was no trouble at all.

“God, that feels good,” she said with a sigh. Then she giggled the way a teenager might. “You should’ve told me you were built like this years ago.”

“Yeah, sure. Like that would’ve helped.”

She smiled, closing her eyes and putting her head back as she began to move with him.

It was all Marty could do to hold off. He thought about the asteroid, naked old women, dogs crapping on the sidewalk, even quadruple amputees . . . anything but how beautiful she was or how much he loved her. He could tell that she was probably thinking of someone else, and while that did hurt a little, it didn’t spoil the experience. She was his fantasy come to life.

It took her quite a while, but he continued to control himself, even as Susan began to moan and to squeeze him with her thighs, rocking with more urgency and starting to shudder deep within, her breath coming in staggered little girlish gasps. Finally she sighed and rolled off, laid her head on the pillow and smiled at him.

“You feel really, really good,” she said happily. “I’m sorry that took so long.”

“You can do that forever if you like,” he said softly. “I know it can’t be easy with someone you’re not attracted to.”

“It wasn’t that,” she said, touching his face. “I wasn’t imagining you were someone else or anything. It’s just that this was the first time I’ve been with anyone since . . .”

“I understand,” he said, feeling warmth spreading over him. “So, is it my turn?”

“Yep. You’ve earned it.”

He moved between her thighs and she smiled up at him as he entered her. “You can forget the coitus interruptus,” she said bashfully.

“But what about a baby?”

“Marty, we’re not even going to be alive nine months from now. And it wouldn’t keep me from getting pregnant anyway . . . we might as well enjoy this.”

He began moving slowly, but after a couple of minutes he couldn’t help gasping and touching her face. “Please, Susan,” he finally said. “Can I kiss you just once?”

She took his shoulders and pulled him down to her, kissing him lustfully and causing him to explode inside. She gasped as the startling sensation triggered a second climax, which was so unexpected that she laughed aloud and wrapped herself tightly around him as he groaned like a man put to the rack.

“Marty, that was amazing!” she said after he collapsed beside her, his chest heaving. “Is there always so much of it? My God! You were in the wrong business!” She cackled with delight at her own joke, almost giddy from the release.

He was still catching his breath. “Oh, sweet Christ, Susan. I love you so fucking much!”

She felt between her legs with her fingers and brought them away, looking at them. “Damn,” she said in awe. “I’m amazed.”

He kissed her breast. “Thank you.”

“We’re gonna have to do this again, honey.”

“Honey?” he said in disbelief. “Do you mean that?”

“You know,” she said with a melancholy smile, “it may have taken the end of the world . . . but I think you may have finally won me over, Marty. This was really something unexpected.”

The smile that came to him was so big that he thought his face might crack. “Was it my gunplay out on the highway?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I’m pretty sure it was your gunplay right here in bed.”

“You’ve got no idea how much I love you, Susan.”

She held up her fingers and giggled. “Actually, I’ve got a pretty
good
idea.”

N
either of them noticed a tall man in a dark suit stride into the bedroom holding a pistol, until he spoke aloud. “That was quite a show.”

“What the fuck are
you
doing here!” Marty bolted upright. “Get the fuck outta my house!”

Agent Paulis laughed. “It’s not your house anymore, asshole. It’s been mine for days. And I’d like to thank you for stocking my basement with food.”

Marty knew he was a dead man, that he’d never be able to protect Susan now. “You’ve been living down there?” he said, aghast.

“Get out of my bed,” Paulis said, gesturing with the weapon. “The little lady and I don’t want your blood all over the mattress.”

Without warning, three loud cracks rang out. Hit in the chest, Paulis stumbled backward into the wall and slid to the floor. Quickly, Susan pulled the pistol from beneath the sheet and tried to shoot him again, but the Walther jammed just like it had for Marty earlier that day. Paulis made an odd strangled sound and struggled to lift his weapon, but Marty sprang from the bed and threw the lamp at him, then rushed at Paulis and kicked him in the chin with his bare foot.

Paulis slumped over and continued to make the grotesque gurgling sound for almost a minute before falling silent. He still wasn’t quite dead, but Marty didn’t waste any more time. He wrapped the agent in a sheet and dragged him from the room, down the tiled hallway and out the back door, where he stashed the dying man under his deck.

When he returned to the room, Susan was still sitting in bed, staring in disbelief at the jammed Walther in her hand with the empty shell casing stove-piped in the receiver.

She looked up at him disgustedly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what, honey?”

“Those guys at the gun store sold me a piece of shit!”