Foamers (6 page)

She let out a nervous laugh, inspecting the bloodless holes in Kade’s army-green
jacket. She unzipped the jacket and grabbed two fistfuls of the undershirt. Tearing
it open she revealed two bullets stuck in a Kevlar vest. She leaned down and kissed
Kade’s lips, a joyous smile spreading across her face. For everything that had just
happened, this was the one piece of hope she needed. Kade was still with them. They
hadn’t lost him. She hadn’t lost him.

Mick jogged around the front of the bus. “I couldn’t find her.”

“She’s on our side. Kade’s alive,” Tiny replied.

The corners of his mouth pulled, almost as if he could smile, before they turned
down. “Lucas isn’t.”

Mick took a step, then stopped and stared at the end of the bus. Grace came toward
them, slow and skittish, like a wild animal wandering into a campsite.

She waited at the back of the bus and watched Mick storm off, his mud-covered face
now streaked with tears. He had seen death before, even of those he loved, but this
rattled him to the core. This wasn’t murder—something he understood as a police
officer—this was war, an area in which he had no expertise. For the first time, Mick
recognized just how scared he was of the Primal Age.

* * *

Kade bit his fingernails until his cuticles bled. They hadn’t moved since the attack,
and he still hadn’t heard from X or Ashton, although Tiny reassured him they were
just out of range. No need to alarm them with what happened.

Kade still didn’t understand what happened, other than the fact that his chest hurt
like someone went at it with a baseball bat. The bruise already had formed over most
of his sternum. Mick wasn’t willing to talk about what had happened, and was taking
his frustration out on the ground while he dug a grave for Lucas. Each metallic ring
of the shovel was louder than the last. However, Mick had taken the time to make
the argument that Grace was still a threat, so Kade volunteered to watch her until
they were sure of her intent.

Tiny and Victoria were salvaging what they could from the cop car, while Kade watched
Grace replace the flat tire on the SUV. Argos was traveling between the groups, as
if keeping tabs on everyone.

He knew Lucas and the Wilson Brothers were dead, and his team had given him the broad
strokes of what had happened. No matter how much he was told, he felt he would always
be in the dark.

Grace’s hands shook and she lost her grip on the tire iron, which landed on the cup
of lug nuts. The lug nuts flew out in every direction, clanging off the ground and
scattering into the darkness.

Grace snatched the tire iron and smashed it repeatedly off the ground. After a half
dozen bashes, she sat back and wept into her hands. Kade sat down beside her putting
his shoulder against hers. He set his shotgun on the ground opposite Grace.

“Did you ever see
A Christmas Story
?” Kade asked.

Her fingers parted and she looked at him with one eye.

“In that the kid said fudge, but he didn’t actually say fudge when he spilled the
nuts,” Kade said.

“What did he say?” Grace asked, still hiding behind her hands.

“You’ve really never seen it?”

“We weren’t the holiday type.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise then,” Kade said.

Grace dropped her hands and glared at him. “Do you really think I’m ever going to
get the chance to see it?”

“I don’t honestly know, but I do know I am worried about Ash and X. And I know that
if I talk about anything it takes my mind off of them,” Kade said.

“My brother shot you. You could be dead right now. One of your friends was killed.
I killed one of my brothers. How can you find any way to distract your mind with
all of that going on?”

“Practice.”

“Practice?”

“Yes, practice. Ironically I used to use the Primal Age as my playground of distraction.”

“The Primal Age?”

“Yeah, sorry I forget not everyone calls it that. There’s a book called
The Doomsday
Doctrine
. A handbook for the different possible end of the world scenarios, and it
calls the overall concept of Armageddon, the Primal Age.”

“You’ve been prepping for this?”

Kade laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think anything could have
prepared me for this.”

He heard the shovel strikes of Mick’s frustration. No amount of studying, theory,
or even practice could have given him a practical application of surviving in the
Primal Age. He rubbed the sore spot on his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. The
possibility of the Wilsons turning on them hadn’t crossed his mind. They had met
in a standoff, but seemed to work well enough together. If they had planned to attack,
he didn’t know why they didn’t when he gave them their guns back.

“Grab a flashlight, and we’ll find those nuts. You already have one on, so as long
as we find two more we’ll be good to go,” Kade said.

It took them a few minutes to locate the lug nuts, but eventually they secured the
spare tire. When they finished, Kade grabbed his shotgun. The action caused Grace
to flinch.

“What’s wrong?” Kade asked.

“Part of me thinks that the hole your friend is digging is going to be for me,” Grace
said.

“Why would I have you fix the tire before I killed you?”

“So, you didn’t have to fix the tire.”

“Good point, but we’re not going to kill you.”

Tiny strolled over, interrupting their conversation.

“Mick’s ready for us,” Tiny said.

“We really should be getting back on the road,” Kade said, as the three of them made
their way toward the overturned cop car.

“I know you are anxious to catch up to Ash, but we will do better if we bury Lucas,”
Tiny replied.

They continued walking in silence, and Kade felt guilt sprouting in his conscious.
When he had told Tiny not to worry about Lucas’s confession, it might just blow over,
this wasn’t the intended result he had hoped for. Lucas was their most valuable resource,
and now they had lost him. He had died. He was dead.

The situation had blown over.

When they reached the grave, Mick had Lucas’s body beside the hole. Victoria stood
next to the cop car, as the other three filled in around the grave.

Kade joined Mick, and they grabbed opposite ends of Lucas’s corpse and lowered him
into the shallow grave. This was the first time Kade had seen Lucas’s body. He looked
normal except for everything was missing between his nose and chin. Mick draped an
emergency blanket over the body and began shoveling the pile of dirt into the grave.

“If anyone has anything to say, now’s the time,” Mick said, keeping his eyes on the
spade.

The night was silent as they waited for the first one to speak. Kade noticed Tiny’s
tears, but didn’t want to draw any attention to them.

“Lucas was a great friend, and prepper. I felt much safer having him along, and he
will be missed by all,” Kade said.

“In my brief time with Lucas he seemed like a really smart guy, and I’m sorry I didn’t
get to know him better,” Grace added.

Tiny wiped her eyes. “No one in my life ever showed they cared like he did.”

“He was-” Mick said, resting on his shovel. “I never-”

Mick threw down the shovel and stormed toward Grace. She froze as he closed the distance.
Kade rushed to intercept Mick’s charge, but Mick stiff armed his bruised chest, which
dropped him to the ground.

“This is your fault,” Mick growled as he threw Grace to the ground.

Grace positioned herself belly down, protecting herself in case of a beating.

“Your fault.” Mick drew his pistol, and that was all Kade needed to fight through
his pain.

Kade couldn’t find enough air to get to his feet, but he scurried on all fours until
he could block the line of fire.

“Mick. Holster your gun, now,” Kade said, glaring into the barrel.

Tiny snagged Mick’s wrist and raised his aim above the other two.

“It’s her fault,” Mick said, as he buried his face into Tiny’s shoulder.

Kade took a deep breath to compose himself. He had lost his parents over the years,
which made him practiced at loss. The initial shock, the following rage, the nothingness,
and then the normalcy with the occasional phantom pain were all things he understood.
Losing Lucas hurt him too, but he was able to recognize the stages he was going through.
He didn’t expect Mick to be able to take the loss in stride, but he also couldn’t
afford Mick losing his head over one of their deaths. In all likelihood it wouldn’t
be the last.

“Grace, go to the van,” Kade ordered rising to his feet. “Now.”

Without saying a word, Grace scrambled away.

“Victoria, get back to the ambulance. We are leaving in five,” Kade said.

“I’m just going to grab a bottle of water from the bus quick,” Victoria said, as
she walked away.

Kade strode up to Mick and Tiny. He pulled the pistol from Mick’s hand.

“Mick, we all lost a friend. I can’t have you lose your head over it,” Kade said.

Mick separated from Tiny. “You don’t get—”

“I don’t care what I don’t get. You’re going to drive Lucas’s SUV the rest of the
way. By now X and Ash have a huge lead on us. What I do care about is you pull it
together so we can catch them,” Kade said.

Mick took the handcuffs from his belt and handed them to Kade. “For your own protection.”

Kade took the keys, while Mick trudged toward the convoy.

“Was I too harsh?” Kade asked.

“I don’t think so. I am surprised at how he’s taking this,” Tiny replied.

Kade shook his head. “You got Argos with you?”

“Yeah. We owe that dog a huge thanks. If it wasn’t for him and Grace, we’d all be
dead,” Tiny said.

Kade tapped his chest. “Seems I owe Jem my life for more than one reason.”

“Let’s catch up to your sister before she falls for X’s outlaw charm.”

“Not funny.”

Kade and Tiny made their way back to the convoy. At the top of the embankment, Kade
looked back at the spot where his friend would stay forever and gave him a farewell
wave.

When he got to the van, he felt like the handcuffs had become an anchor in his hand.
He wanted to trust Grace, but he didn’t know what she was capable of doing. She had
killed her brother, and Mick’s warnings were still echoing in his head. He had no
idea if trusting her or trusting caution would pay off in the end.

___________

Xsped along, the lights of the sports car slicing through the darkness, illuminating
the
trees that had shed their foliage. The dotted yellow line in the center of the road
went by so fast, it seemed solid. This was probably the last time X would ever get
to drive a fast car. There were many things he looked forward to in the Primal Age:
no job, no taxes, and no cops besides Mick. However, there were some things that
he would miss from the Old World. Expensive cars that could go fast—they ranked high
on the list along with movie theater popcorn, beautiful women, and cold beer.

“Is that the best you can do?” Ashton said, reclined in the red passenger seat.

“Don’t want to get out of range of your brother. He’ll think I’ve pulled off to the
side of the road and raped you.” He took the walkie from the cup holder.

“It’s not rape if they’re willing,” Ashton replied.

X searched for any indication she was kidding, but her stone-faced delivery gave
none. “Ha. Ha. Good joke.”

She still showed no response. He shook his head, trying to keep out thoughts that
would piss off Kade. He held down the call button. “X to Kade.”

When the button released, the usual static wasn’t there. X tossed the walkie onto
Ashton’s lap. She shot up in her seat, startled. He gave her a wink. “Mind checking
what’s wrong with the walkie?”

Ashton twisted the channel nob. “It must have got bumped off the right channel.”

She handed it back, and he held the button. “Coolest man alive to Mopey.”

“I bet he’s freaking out right now,” she said with a look of amusement.

X had a feeling she was right. As tough and uncaring as Kade appeared to the world,
X knew him better. If anything, Kade cared too much. Kade felt a friend’s pinprick
like his own seppuku. X hoped they could make it a long time before they had casualties.
Any loss would have Kade questioning his leadership abilities, and frankly, they
didn’t have anyone better.

“Can you check the GPS? See if I can let him know where we are?” X asked.

Ashton pulled the small cube out from the center console and scanned the map. X
wondered how long they would have the relics of civilization. Power was still on
everywhere they had stopped; satellites were still feeding signals; even the plumbing
at Sheetz still worked. Would they have a day, a week, a month, or maybe a year before
it was all gone?

“I’m not sure where we are. It looks like we should be coming to a river soon,” Ashton
replied, holding the GPS screen so X could check.

“How can you not know where we are? It tells you where you are,” he said, peaking
at the screen.

“X!”

His head snapped around to the road. A man with red foam around his mouth stared
blankly at the headlights of the rapidly approaching ton of metal. As brakes slammed,
the wheels locked and left a trail of rubber. The car fishtailed and spun to the
right side of the road. Moving perpendicularly to the road, the car lifted on two
wheels as it T-boned against the guiderail. The vehicle flipped and dropped over
the side of the bridge, landing wheels-first in the river.

The two lay unconscious against the dashboard as the river’s current carried the
floating car downstream. The moon glinted off the silver paint until the car was
out of sight from the bridge.

Water worked its way through the open space in the engine until it flowed into the
interior, pooling in the foot wells. X’s eyes blinked open as the lower portion of
his jeans became soaked in the trickle of water. He cocked his head and watched
the murky liquid rise higher than the gas pedal. He wondered what hose must have
broken to release that much fluid. His head felt hazy. He reached over and shook
Ashton, who was sleeping with her head on the dashboard. She might be able to tell
him why they had stopped.

But they hadn’t stopped. Low-hanging trees coasted by outside the window. The cold
water rose to his knees. He pressed his face to the glass and looked out. The water
was calm with small ripples. That’s when he remembered the accident. Ashton wasn’t
sleeping.

X’s fingers told him she still had a pulse. He took a deep breath, his black shirt
heaving as he composed himself. They were floating. Down a stream. He had minutes
before the car would be too waterlogged to float. Ashton was unconscious. They would
no longer be able to drive. The bank wasn’t far away. He could swim to it. He would
only have one shot, though. They would need supplies. One emergency pack shouldn’t
drown him. One pack and Ashton might, but there was no way he had the ability to
make two trips.

He doubled over as the water crested the red leather seat and soaked his crotch.
They had to get out now. He reached for the walkie, just as the water plunged into
the cup holder. The circuits fried with a hiss and pop. X abandoned the idea of
contacting Kade until they were safe. His fingers curled around the door handle.
He counted to three and then slammed his shoulder into the door, but couldn’t budge
it against the weight of the water.

Always more than one way to skin a cat. He unbuttoned the snap of the predator knife’s
holster and punched the spiked knuckles against the window. The impact sent shock-waves
down his arm as his hand burst through the breakaway glass. Turning the blade sideways,
he batted away the remaining chunks.

X reached underwater and popped the trunk. After hitting the seat belt release,
he fitted his cowboy hat to his head. Grabbing the roof with both hands, he pulled
himself, boots first, into the frigid stream. The water enveloped him, sucking the
air from his lungs as he clung to the side of the car. The slosh of water rushing
into the trunk snapped him out of shock.

Teeth chattering and lips turning numb, he moved hand over hand along the car to
the back, where the gear in the trunk was floating away. The car was sinking faster
than before with the added weight of the open trunk. Shivering, X grabbed the strap
of a hiking pack. His hands fumbled with the straps, as they felt more like mitten-covered
rocks than fingers.

He tucked his boots into the lip of the trunk and sat upright to get the pack on.
On his first try, he nearly stabbed himself with the knife. The logical thing to
do was to holster the knife, but he couldn’t afford to lose it with his impaired
dexterity. On the second try, he managed to get his left arm through the strap, and
the added weight knocked him back into the water. X lifted his head to keep his hat
on, but the water sapped his strength and he couldn’t muster the effort to sit up
again. On the third attempt, he hooked the blade under the strap and used the dull
side to pull it on.

Unhooking his heels from the trunk, X lost his connection to the car and sank into
the murky water. He caught the underside of the bumper with the blade and pulled
himself to the wheel well, then monkeyed his way to the handle of the passenger door.
The water inside had risen to Ashton’s armpits. The river crashed through the driver’s
side window like a waterfall.

He gauged the distance to the bank. Fifty yards. From a start, wearing a speedo,
in seventy degree water, conditioned to race, that would take X twenty-one seconds.
In frigid water, with a pack, fully clothed, hauling Ashton, he wasn’t sure if he
would make it. Challenge accepted, he thought.

He tapped the spikes against the glass. Tap, tap, tap, his hand pushed through, creating
a hole only big enough for his fist. His arm shook as he broke apart the rest of
the window. The water cascaded into the car. He grabbed Ashton by the arm and pulled
her toward him. She caught against the seat belt as the water rose to her chin.

The car had lost its buoyancy and was sinking instead of moving with the current.
X had moments before the water would be higher than Ashton’s head and the stream
would claim the car. He took a deep breath, his chest muscles feeling like they
were being stabbed by thousands of icicles, and he plunged his head underwater. His
eyelids slammed shut against the freezing water, and his hand traced the shoulder
strap till it met the lap belt. He sank the blade under and severed the tension
with an upward jerk.

As his head broke the surface, he gasped for air as he tugged Ashton through the
window. His left arm hooked over her left shoulder and grabbed her under the right
armpit as he lay back in the water. X kicked off of the car, pushing a wake ahead
of him till his momentum died, and then he kicked his legs. His right arm, still
bearing the knife, stretched ahead of him as he positioned his body sideways with
Ashton resting on his left side. After each scissor kick, he sculled with his right
hand.

Each glide brought him closer to the bank, but also deeper in the water. His head
turned as far left as it could go, and with each kick it dipped under. He’d recover
with a quick breath through his teeth. His only concern was making sure Ashton’s
mouth stayed above water.

Kick, reach, pull, breathe; kick, reach, pull, breathe, he kept repeating over and
over, so the restricted flow of blood to his brain wouldn’t lock his body. Every
motion felt like his muscle fibers were tearing. Every breath felt like he was swallowing
daggers. Every time the air hit his face, it felt like he was being slapped by Tiny.

A cold snap shattered through his nerves as his fingers stabbed into the bank. His
mouth went under one last time as he expelled his breath with a string of expletives
only the fish could hear. He threw the knife onto the mossy earth and fought to find
a foothold with his numb legs. His boots kicked at mud as his fingers plunged through
soft ground.

He stopped scuttling and rested to clear his pounding head. There were three things
he needed to get out of the water: first was Ashton, second was the pack, and third
was himself. He couldn’t do it all at once.

X rotated his body, putting Ashton between him and the bank. Placing his hands under
her arms, he hoisted her up as he sank underwater. He pushed off the murky bottom,
lifting Ashton as many extra inches onto land as he could. When he surfaced, her
upper body had grounded. He placed his hands on her butt, unsure if he was happy
or sad to have no feeling in his extremities, and shoved her legs onto the bank,
where she settled into a fetal position in the mud.

He lowered his shoulders and dropped the straps of the pack from his back. The waterlogged
gear felt heavy enough to drag him to the bottom of the river as he shoved the bag
onto solid ground. Placing his forehead against the edge of the bank, he wanted to
close his eyes and let the current take him.

However, he’d promised the only person in the world who meant anything to him that
he would keep Ashton safe. He jumped off the bottom and pushed against the ground,
landing on the bank with a thud.

His clothes clung to his body as water dripped from his chin. He fought his shaking
limbs as he crawled to the hiking pack. The only thing he wanted was sleep, which
was the last thing he could do. Sleep would be the death of him, and if he didn’t
find a way to get Ashton warm, she wouldn’t awaken.

When he realized the sleeping bag clipped to the bottom of the pack was vacuum-sealed,
he would have thanked a god, if he thought any of them were listening. He was about
to lay the sleeping bag on the ground when his brain fired one logical command.

No.

The wet and soggy ground would waste their one chance. He wrapped the sleeping bag
around his neck like a boa and struggled to remove his boots. Using his numb fingers
like spatulas, he slid off his socks and let them slap to the ground in a wet heap.
He curled his toes into the soggy ground and paced until the earth didn’t give with
his step. The first dry spot was between two willows. Their fountain-like tops dangled
low providing shelter. He spread the sleeping bag across the ground.

His frozen body groaned as he struggled back to Ashton. Grabbing the knife, he snapped
it into the holster. Then he slung one strap of the pack over his shoulder. He knelt
beside Ashton and scooped her into his arms. Her head hung with her long strands
of auburn hair clumping together like dreadlocks. He tried to hurry as a moan escaped
her parted blue lips.

Getting her to the sleeping bag would only be the beginning. He organized his tasks
in his mind. First he would have to strip Ashton and wrap her in the bag; then he
would string their clothes together to dry; next would be starting a fire. All he
wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

Sadly, he wouldn’t get that chance. Even once he got her situated, he would remain
on watch, in case their fire attracted any foamers. He knew that some animals were
attracted by fire, but others were repelled. However, he couldn’t classify foamers
into a traditional animal phylum.

Maybe this is what the geneticists felt like when they classified the beasts of
the world. Maybe, just maybe, the idea that there was something new out there excited
X and made him feel like a little kid again. The Primal Age was his to discover.
Even as he went about his work, numb and shaking, he was filled with a sense of childlike
excitement.

* * *

The last Kade had heard from X or Ashton was before the fight; there had been no
signs of them throughout the night. He hoped they had just gotten lost, but he had
no idea where they could if that was the case.

Even if he did know where they were, he wouldn’t be able to go after them. With the
group’s depleted numbers, Kade had a long list of things to deal with. The first
was sitting next to him. Kade shot a glance at Grace, who was handcuffed to the door
of the van, her forehead pressed against the glass. She was staring at the passing
coniferous trees. Her breath fogged the window. She hadn’t spoken since he put her
in cuffs.

Mick had made a strong case. They had thought they could trust her brothers and it
had almost gotten them all killed. Mick couldn’t believe Grace was unaware of her
brothers’ plan to attack them. He argued that she could have realized her family
was going to lose, so she preserved herself.