Decay (Book 2): Humanity (4 page)

Chapter 5

“I lost everything,” Roger calmly said as he looked down at Bradley who had sweat running down his face from the pain. “I won’t be the only one to lose it all and watch as everyone else finds new life in this desolation. You think I don’t know that you want to rub it in MY face that YOU found love?” Roger’s temper flared up the more he spoke.

He knew what would happen next as this dream haunted him every night since he destroyed the lives of two good people; one of them was only a child. Certainly children died every day, especially in these times, but this boy was only twelve, and all he wanted to do was help.

Tyson slammed into him hard, driving Roger to the concrete. The voices were muffled, but he knew that Bradley was telling Tyson to run away, and unfortunately he chose to stay. Rage and hatred festered to a diseased rot deep inside Roger’s gut, and as Tyson tried to help Bradley, Roger picked up the desk leg and drove the hook into Tyson’s back. The tip of the hook just barely broke through the skin of the boy’s stomach, soaking the front of his shirt as blood ran from his body.

Roger wanted nothing more than to stay and be torn apart by the ruthless undead mass that marched toward them. The end was so terrible for Bradley and Tyson, and Roger knew that no death he could die would make up for the pain he put them through. His legs began to move. His cowardly legs ran to safety, and his cowardly ears drowned out the screams.

He sat up on a hotel bed, wrapped in a thin sheet. The pillows and blankets were scattered around the floor at impressive distances. The nightmares would drive him insane. More than once he tried to end his life, but he knew he had to suffer. After leaving the group at Jonathan’s, he did what he set out to do. Now he just needed to die, but he couldn’t. There was always this feeling that he would wander the earth until the end of time. Perhaps he was dead, a fiend, and this is how it was for all of them. They didn’t know they were dead, but Roger knew that was also too good for him. He deserved far more pain. Far more agony.

It was foggy outside, so he had no idea what time it was as he stood up and walked toward the window. He could see most of the south side of Clay Hills from here, which is why he chose this spot. Although he couldn’t see Jonathan’s house, it was close enough to make an easy trip to check on things. Deacon had left Sophia and the twins, Andy and Amie. He didn’t know why, but he felt a need to watch over them while he was gone.

On several trips out, Roger would sit by the wall surrounding the property and listen to the old woman, Mrs. Johnson, teach the twins how to read, write, and do basic math. Before he left, Deacon would play with them in the yard, yet he always sounded distant when speaking. Roger assumed this had something to do with why he left.

A distant rumble reached Roger’s ears as he gazed out the open window. It wasn’t the sound of Deacon’s truck. Roger would recognize that anywhere. This sound was much deeper. He could almost feel the sound as well as hear it. As he scanned the surrounding area for what he assumed was new arrivals, he heard the crash. Something large had crashed into a building and the first thought he had was of the wall.

Chapter 6

The ocean surf engulfed the bare feet of Corporal Mark Davis as he stood in the warm sand of Kahanamoku Beach. The breeze felt great as its refreshing coolness washed over his body. He wore khaki cargo shorts with no shirt. His muscular abs shimmered in the moonlight as the salty water dripped from his skin. Normally he would be off duty today, but since the terrorist attacks started three days ago there is no longer an “off duty” for anyone.

Whatever the terrorists were doing had the whole island on high alert. No fatalities were reported, but there were a few minor injuries. There wasn’t any real damage to any property (a few barricades were damaged and the few small fires were easily contained). For the most part they were just a handful of flashy explosions which were accompanied by a message left burning in the sand.
I AM COMING
. All of it happening at random times in equally random places.

Mark looked back at his palm tree. Next to it was his assault rifle. They were given the order to shoot on sight. In the sand next to his rifle was some SCUBA gear. He had a plan tonight. Through his binoculars he caught a glimpse of a boat floating clear out in the ocean. He would swim to the boat and wait for the terrorist to return. His best chance at success was to go now.

With the SCUBA gear strapped into place and his rifle at his side, Mark walked out into the ocean. The cool water was dark, but he knew that carrying a light would give him away. The waves tried to force him back, and as soon as he was out far enough, he plunged underneath them. Twenty yards out he swam within ten feet of the terrorist; both men unaware of how close they had come to each other. The terrorist, however, had no plans of terrorizing tonight. Tonight, he had other surprises to prepare.

The small boat was twenty-five feet long and perhaps seven to ten feet wide, certainly larger than it had looked from the beach, yet Mark still felt like it was too small to travel around the ocean, especially this far away from the mainland. He pulled the binoculars from the small pack her carried and scanned the ocean further out. A slight flicker of light caught his attention a mile or so away, and he was fairly certain it was a yacht. He was still amazed that anyone would take even a large yacht from the mainland all the way to Hawaii. Turning off the oxygen, he pulled himself up and out of the water.

There was nothing on the deck, but searching down below in the tight space of the hull he found wires, remote controls, and a tin container with Methyl Ethyl Ketone on the sticker. Maps of Hawaii were spread out on tables with push pins in different locations. One of which Mark recognized as the beach where he first encountered the explosives. Several hundred push pins were off in the water surrounding the islands.

“How long are you going to stand next to that bomb, asshole?” This reverberated through his memory like a church bell that wouldn’t stop chiming. This man may have been a terrorist, but he certainly wasn’t a murderer. Mark walked back to the deck and slid over the side of the boat. He would wait in the water for the terrorist to return. Then he would make his move.

Several hours went by before the terrorist returned to his boat. Mark was tired and cold, having at one point tied himself to the anchor chain so he could rest and keep as much of his body out of the water as he could. Now, he undid his bindings and waited for the terrorist to take them wherever they were going. The anchor came up. Mark floated just under the boat as he watched the anchor chain rise. Before the anchor had reached the surface of the water the boat began to move.

Mark held on tight to the anchor as the boat sped through the water at a much faster speed then he had anticipated. It was much harder to hold on, but they made the distance in good time. There was no way he could have held on for more than the ten minutes it took to reach the yacht.

The terrorist pulled behind the gigantic black yacht. With the small boat secured in the yachts docking bay, the man stepped out onto the dock and walked up the stairs to the deck and disappeared. Mark listened closely for any voices, hoping to gauge how many others there were onboard, but there was no sound at all. He pulled himself up onto the small boat and curled up in a ball, his arms felt as though they would fall off, and he could hardly bend his fingers.

He rested for another hour, fighting sleep. Watching as the moon drifted high overhead, he knew it was now or fall asleep and be caught off guard. Mark slowly crept along the dock, hoping for no creaks or groans that would alert the terrorists to his presence. Once he was at the top of the stairs he felt lost. There were too many doors and hallways. This yacht was larger than any boat he had ever been on, and most of the houses, too. He came from money, but not this kind of money.

Mark walked carefully through a doorway that led down a long hallway. It was dark, but he could see a light source further down. The inside was even larger than he had initially thought it would be judging by the massive exterior. As he approached the room with the light source his heart plunged into his stomach. He examined the T.V screen. It briefly showed surveillance video of the smaller boat as it rocked gently in the water before changing to a camera on the deck. Then the screen went black, leaving an eerie glow on the smooth glass.

“I wouldn’t move if I was you, mate,” the voice from the darkness said. The voice was calm with a hint of curiosity.

Mark was disoriented, and he felt stupid. He knew better than to be caught off guard in an unfamiliar place, but he walked right into this. Now he stood in the dark with no idea of what to do or where he was in relation to anything else on the yacht. “I didn’t come here for trouble,” he pleaded, holding back panic.

“Then what did you come for? A bullet to the gut and a dip in the ocean? Because that’s about what you’re gonna get,” the voice said in an oddly friendly manner.

“I don’t think you’re a killer,” Mark said. “All of your bombs have gone off with no one around. You even gave me time to run.”

“So you’re the dumb asshole that likes to stand next to explosives.”

“Yeah. Well, no. You gave me a chance to live. You aren’t going to hurt anyone.”

“You sound sure about that.”

“I am.”

“Then you just wait until you see what I’ve got planned next.” The man’s voice went from calmly creepy to sinister, and it gave Mark goose bumps.

The screen came back on, blinding Mark momentarily. As his eyes adjusted to the light he could see that the monitor now showed the view from underneath the boat. The terrorist pressed a button on the remote he had in his hand and the camera zoomed in. Deep in the water, yet bound to the boat, were bodies. Dozens of dead bodies wriggled and gasped. Fish fed off of slivers of flesh that were suspended in the water.

“What the hell are you up to?” asked Mark. He was appalled by what he was looking at.

“You ever seen those mines in the ocean. The ones that just float there, attached to a chain, waiting for something to come along and get just a little too close?”

Mark decided it was time to do what he came to do. “I want to help you,” he said. “I’m tired of being in one place. Besides, there is some serious shit going on there. Something that I don’t like the feeling of.”

“You think this is going to save you?”

“No. Just listen. People have been going missing. When we first took over the islands we were told it was to protect us. To protect what was left of the human race. I don’t buy that, anymore. The civilians used to have freedom. They could do what they wanted when they wanted. Then we started to move them into our “government housing project”. Sound familiar? We made them live in the hotels, crammed together like prisoners, because that is what they were.

“Recently the hotels slowly started to become less packed as those people were moved out, never to be seen again. A helicopter flies out of here around midnight every other day.” Mark began to talk faster. “I had lunch with some buddies of mine who work in the government buildings. They acted very suspicious about the things that had been going on.

“I did some digging after that. Found out that the people who are disappearing are being taken into a testing facility. I was able to talk a guy out of some information. He said the government was testing whatever this virus is,” he pointed to the bodies in the water on the monitor. “On people. Trying to find a way to cure it. These people, children also, are tested against their will. Infected with this virus and then taken somewhere else.”

The terrorist stared hard at Mark for a moment, thinking about what he was being told. Then he finally stepped out of the dark and into the subtle light of the monitor. Mark looked at the man standing before him. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard covered the handsome features of his face. His white tank top was tight on his body, revealing a very muscular frame.

“Names Deacon Belle. Have I got a story for you!”

Chapter 7

“Meet Hugo. He’s the sharpshooter that saved our lives . . . well, your lives,” Laikynn said conceitedly as she introduced a tall man with short black hair and tattoos on his knuckles. A thick black beard covered his jaw, and, despite being Army, he wore the Marine issued Extreme Cold Weather Clothing, a snow camo uniform that allowed him to blend in in the mountains.

Hugo stood with perfect posture. A habit from a lifetime of military conditioning that he couldn’t break even if he’d wanted to. He’d been in a military boarding school since seventh grade, triggering a career that led him to become one of the Army’s top snipers. Like all U.S snipers, this man was a true hero. He’d saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives in his career, traveling all around the world to eliminate terrorist threats.

His smile was more pleasant than Jonathan would have thought as he reached out and shook their hands firmly.

After the group finished introducing themselves, they sat down in a hotel dining area for lunch. The small dining room had a surprisingly warm feel that Jonathan found comforting. The town itself must have been forgotten years ago when the interstate rerouted travelers. There were a few houses, a gas station, and a large number of makeshift homes that were used as temporary living as new houses were built. Construction was done for this year, however. The next wave of houses would be built when spring came.

The small mountainside town was the type of place to be featured on a postcard. “Welcome to Moorford,” it would read in a bold, snow-capped font that stood out from a picture of the snow-covered mountains. “A cozy place where not everyone is dead.”

“Most of our supplies come from Denver. We send out groups to scavenge the city for anything we can use,” Laikynn explained when they stepped back outside after eating. “We build homes and protect each other. You can’t see it anymore from here, but there is a wall around the town. We’ve been able to spread it out to a mile radius and growing. The plan now is to push it through Denver, take back the city, and rebuild society.”

“We would love to be a part of that, but for now I have to find my family,” Jonathan stated, utterly amazed by not only their plan, but their accomplishments.

“I understand. You do know that there may be a chance your family is gone?” Laikynn asked directly.

“My brother is alive at least. I have to find him.”

“Of course. You can leave as soon as we’re finished with those murdering sonsabitches.”

“I do not know if I can be a part of that. I do not want to speak for the rest of my friends, though,” replied Jonathan.

“I’m sorry, but none of you have a choice.” Laikynn’s Irish accent seemed to thicken as she grew more intense.

Jonathan looked around at his companions. He didn’t want them to have to do anything they didn’t want to do. He didn’t want them to be murderers. Most importantly, he didn’t want them to be harmed. He tried to come up with something to say that would make her understand that they had no desire to be a part of this, but he didn’t think she would care. And for the second time on this mountain, he felt defeated.

“Let my friends leave, and I’ll stay and fight,” Guillermo spoke up as he stepped to the front of the group.

Jonathan grabbed Guillermo’s shoulder, “I cannot do this without you. I need you to go with me.”

“I don’t want anyone to do this if they don’t feel comfortable with it. Let me stay behind and do this,” Guillermo pleaded.

“I’ll stay with you,” Elliot said.

“So will I.” Tyler stepped up by Guillermo and Elliot. “Jonathan, take Layla and go find your family.”

“You can’t just give me away!” Layla snapped in a disgusted, high-pitched voice.

An almost comical sigh escaped the group as a whole.

“I’m trying to keep you safe!” Tyler explained through closed teeth. He did everything he could to keep calm, but Layla began to yell at him between angered sobs. Not wanting to fight in front of everyone, Tyler led Layla back to the hotel room that an older man named Tom had assigned to them.

Jonathan watched as the couple walked off toward their hotel room. They could still be heard arguing after the door slammed shut behind them. He looked at Laikynn, who had been watching him with amazement. For someone so young to be leading a group of people across the country astounded her. Their eyes met, and for a moment he saw that she was far more kind than she showed. In her eyes he saw Emalynn, or rather, a possible end to Emalynn, and he looked away. If only Emalynn had this armor that Laikynn wore she would be here by Jonathan’s side.

“I guess we all stay,” Jonathan said. “But we are not going to be ordered around. We are helping you, and we will do everything we can for you. After that, we are gone.”

Laikynn realized that Jonathan had taken the lead from her, demoting her to taking orders. “I can respect that. After we’re done you are free to go,” Laikynn stated in a tone that she felt would regain her place above him.

“Do you have a plan?” Elliot asked, provoking a wicked smile from the young Irish woman.

“What’s this?” Guillermo asked as he followed the group into a large tin building a half-mile further up into the mountains. It was cold in the building. Guillermo’s breath was a ghostly mist as he spoke.

“Those, my friend, are what everyone everywhere calls . . . helicopters,” Laikynn stated sarcastically. “More specifically, they areCH-53E Super Stallions.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Guillermo looked in awe at the enormous cages that sat behind the two large helicopters. The steel cages were rusty, dry blood and flesh was frozen to the thick bars. Rotting arms thrust out at them as they walked closer. The flesh on the fiend’s faces peeled back as they pressed against the bars. They snarled and released a sound of wet coughing in their attempts to rip apart the living bodies that were just out of reach.

“You don’t need to worry about the ghouls,” Laikynn replied before quickly drawing their attention toward the weapon racks along the back wall. “You will all be armed. I assume you can shoot, but if you feel more comfortable we will do some training this afternoon with the weapons.”

“So what will we need to do?” asked Jonathan, who still watched the fiends in the cages. He couldn’t help but think of all the research he could do with this many of them.

“Your job will be to eliminate any threat outside the camp,” Hugo began from behind them. “We will send a team into their camp that will do all the hard work. There will be another team, which you will be a part of; this team will set up a perimeter around their camp. You will kill anyone that tries to leave.”

“So basically we stand guard? We may not even have to hurt anyone?” Jonathan felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Basically, yeah,” Hugo said assuredly. “There’s a good chance we’ll get everyone. We trained our guys well.”

“Can I speak with you for a second, Jonathan?” Laikynn asked and led Jonathan off to the helicopters. “I don’t want to make you kill anyone, but you need to understand that the world we live is brutal. I heard your story and frankly I’m surprised you made it this far. I’ve seen other places, many of them are far worse. I’ve seen places where bodies litter the streets. The bodies of children that look as if they’d been trampled to death were lying out in the sun. Their bodies bloated.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if he should speak or continue to listen, but when Laikynn went quiet he knew he had to say something. “My father would not want me to kill anyone unless I had to. Unless there as an immediate threat to me or my family. And I’m ready to kill protecting my family, but life is more precious now than it has ever been.”

“I’m sure your father was a great man.”

“He was,” Jonathan said quickly before she could continue, “and he raised me to be like him, strong, intelligent, honest, and noble.”

“The world your father raised you in is gone. There is saying in Ireland, ‘You have to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.’ I never paid much attention to it, but I think it fits you, Jonathan. It’s time you grew into the man this world
needs
you to be. Humanity has decayed, even amongst those of us that survived.

“Life is precious? I agree, Jonathan. That just means we have to do everything in our power to preserve it. Sometimes that means we have to cut out the tumor and move on.”

Jonathan wanted to argue, but he wasn’t sure if he could win.

With nothing more to say, Laikynn walked back to the others.

Jonathan sat down on the dirt floor of the tin building. He had to do his own growing. He had to be his own man, yet he had to do that in a way that would make his father proud. This world wouldn’t corrupt him.

The whole town gathered at the common area for supper. This was another large tin building that had been set up close to the center of town. The floor was concrete and large heaters blasted warm air down from the ceiling. A long row a tables was laid out against the far wall, and they were stacked with food. The variety wasn’t much, but it was hot, and that is all that mattered to anyone.

Everyone had settled into their seats, but nobody started to eat. Once everyone was quiet, Laikynn stood at the head of her table. She lifted her pint glass high and said, “My mum was Scottish, my Father was Irish. That means, even though both of my parents were brunettes, I had a hundred-and-fifty percent chance to have red hair and I like to drink.”

There was some laughter and applause from the room along with the clinking of beer glasses.

Jonathan caught himself staring at her as she talked. Not only was she a born speaker, but he was mesmerized by her powerful green eyes. They were like the deepest jades set under her hair of ruby. He knew he wanted her, but he fought the lust. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut, the tingle that reverberated to his crotch. But there was also the thought that he may be given another chance, maybe not at love, but to be with someone before he dies. He shook the thoughts free and went back to listening.

“So I’d like to make a toast in honor of our guests. Here's to a long life and a merry one. A quick death and an easy one. A pretty girl and an honest one. A cold pint and another one!”

There was another round of cheers and laughter from the hungry residents which was quickly replaced by the scrapping of silverware on the plastic trays. There wasn’t a single voice to be heard in the common area. Elliot and Hugo sat next to each other and had finished their meals in minutes. Guillermo was surprised by the lack of fresh fruits and vegetables, and Jonathan tore his bread into chunks and used it to add a little more substance to his soup.

After supper they met up with Laikynn and Hugo to discuss what time they would be setting out in the morning. “We’ll be leaving tonight,” Laikynn said.

“What? We should probably rest!” protested Jonathan.

“You have a few hours. Meet us here around one,” Laikynn ordered. Jonathan had seen the gentle, almost loving way she looked at him during her toast, but that look was long gone now, replaced by the hard glare of royalty, disgusted by the peasant groveling at her feet.

Jonathan walked back to his room with Tyler and Layla. Elliot and Guillermo’s rooms were on the opposite side of the small hotel. They stopped in front of the couple’s room. “I want to thank you for trusting me this far. You followed me across the country when you did not even know me, on a mission to find my family. People you do not even know. You are good people, and if you do not want to be a part of this then you need to leave tonight.”

“We can’t leave, Jonathan. You heard Laikynn.” Tyler did his best Irish impression – which sounded more like an angry leprechaun, “Ya can’t leave until ya kill me enemies.”

A smile formed on Jonathan’s face. “That was pretty awful. I talked to Laikynn. She said you and Layla can stay behind or leave.”

“Then we’ll just wait here for you,” Layla said, surprising both Tyler and Jonathan.

“I am worried that if this goes bad you will not be able to leave. That is an unfounded suspicion, so more than likely I am wrong about it, and Laikynn has given us no real reason to not trust her. I just do not want to think of you as being trapped here,” Jonathan stated his concern.

“I appreciate that, Jonathan,” Tyler said. “But if you don’t make it, we don’t really have anywhere else to go. Layla, you will stay behind. I’ll go out tonight and help –“

“No you won’t. We have a free pass, Tyler. You’re gonna stay here and stay alive.”

“Listen,” Tyler said comfortingly. “If s –“

Layla walked into the room and slammed the door. She was done hearing what he had to say, and she had won the argument. Jonathan, feeling uncomfortable, turned and stared up into the late afternoon sky. Although there was still a little light left, the stars were starting to shine. It was a warmer night than it has been, and he was thankful for that.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler apologized.

“Do not be. Take care of your wife, Tyler. We will all be back in the morning.” They shook hands and parted ways. Once in his room Jonathan climbed into his bed. He didn’t sleep.

The knock on Jonathan’s door came at nine minutes to one. He was awake watching the moonlight shining through the curtains as it danced on the ceiling. “Come in!” he said. His heart beat sped up as Laikynn walked through the door. Even in the dim light, her green eyes took his breath away. Jonathan sat up on the bed and Laikynn sat down next to him.