Resurrection (12 page)
“Colonel Martin are you down there? It’s me Mark.”
His query was rewarded with silence.
“Colonel Martin we’ve come to see about you.”
Again he heard nothing except the sound of dripping water echoing about within the space. He peered carefully into the dark space playing his light around inside before slowly proceeding down the steps.
The soles of his boots made squishing noises on the wet concrete. Then the beam of his light landed on something in the corner of the room; it was a man in a chair with his back to Mark.
“Colonel Martin is that you?”
There was no answer and Mark hesitated for a moment his light still focused on the man. He moved ahead warily, his rifle at the ready.
“Colonel Martin?”
The man in the chair neither moved nor did he respond.
Mark heard the sound of boots on the floor above.
“Nigel,” Mark said.
“Yes Mark, you okay?”
Yeah I’m fine, down here.”
Nigel and Darrin entered the space with Mark.
“Mark we didn’t find–.”
“Shhhhh, Mark cut him off in mid-sentence waving his hand toward the man in the chair at the opposite end of the room.
Mark approached him and when he was only a few feet away he addressed him once again.
“Colonel Martin,” he said.
“I was never in the Special Forces, I never even served in the army,” he said. “I was elected to the New York State Assembly just before the infection broke out and when all was lost I found my way to Texas with hundreds of others. I used my leadership skills to assemble a force of lost soldiers and together we assembled this compound.
“Later the militias formed and we allowed them to build a camp on this ranch as sort of a double insurance against just this sort of attack; but you can see how that worked out can’t you?”
“You’re a politician? You’re a Goddamn politician?” Mark said.
“Was, I was a politician. My real name is Thomas Green I took the name of Colonel Jenks Martin when he was killed; the uniforms, the medals, their all his.”
“You son of a bitch, you let those bastards in, you let them in and all the time you were a politician? That’s just rich, just rich, doing just what a politician does, negotiating with animals.”
“We would have lost either way, we had no chance against them their numbers were too great and a diplomatic solution was the only way I could see; we couldn’t prevail in an all-out war.”
“I don’t believe this, they are all dead, ashes, the earth is destroyed; my god!” Mark cried his anger and despair reflected in his voice. “I don’t know what you see out there but nearly everyone is dead; Isabel and her children all dead!”
Mark pressed his weapon to the colonel’s head. “I should kill you right now you son of a bitch.”
“Mark,” Nigel said stepping in front of the colonel. “Don’t do it that would be cold blooded murder.”
“Murder, Are you serious right now? They just killed millions with nukes, the dead are walking around eating the living; are we living on the same planet Nigel? There’s no such thing as murder any longer.”
“Maybe not Mark, maybe you’re right and all laws have become obsolete but we have to have a law of ourselves, a law of conscience, without that this world will fall and the human race will cease to exist.”
Mark pressed the barrel of his rifle hard into the colonel’s head his finger taut on the trigger before slowly pulling the gun away and letting it fall to his side.
“Leave him,” he said staring at Nigel.
The men left the room and Mark took one last look at the man before walking up the steps. When he got to the top he closed the hatch and put a heavy screw through the latch and then turned the heavy metal desk on its top and placed it over the door.
“Get all the weapons and ammo from the armory and then burn everything except the colonel’s office,” Mark yelled.
He stepped back inside the office and found the colonel’s closet containing his uniforms. He ran his fingers over them and pulled a box from the top shelf and opened it; all of Colonel Martin’s medals were in there. He took a sword from its display on the wall and ran his fingers over its brilliant surface. He removed the uniforms from their hangers and rolled the box and the sword up inside and tossed them in the jeep and returned to camp with the others.
“What now Mark?” Nigel said.
“We finish the Confederates.”
“Hold on now, just a minute. We just lost a significant number of our people and besides we don’t know where they are,” Tom said.
“Bring me the Red Angel, “Mark said.
Mark knelt in front of the girl and kissed her hand. “Tell me where they are.”
The Angel looked past the group and then pointed to a small rise in the distance. “There,” she said. “They are trapped by the water.”
They gathered what remained of the people together and early the next morning before sunup they located the sleeping Confederate camp in a low area next to a lake. The camp was enshrouded by a thick fog mixed with smoke from their fires.
“Follow my lead,” Mark said. “Once we surround them they will have no escape but into the water and once we drive them into the lake we will slaughter them. Leave no one alive, not even one animal and take nothing from them.”
Mark took his place in front of the group and directed them to spread out and encircle the camp. Once they were within just a few yards Mark shouted.
“Attack, attack!”
A collective roar erupted from the unit and they all ran in unison toward the camp. Men stumbled from their tents not certain what was happening and by the time they were able to arm themselves the unit was on them.
They slashed and shot their way forward killing everyone in sight and whatever resistance they offered was feeble and within thirty minutes the fight was over. Several men had retreated into the lake and they were shot.
Nigel brought the leader of the Confederates to Mark.
“This is what happens when you mess with us; do you see?” Mark yelled. “Now burn the camp.”
He took the man’s pistol from his hand and shot him in the head with it, tossed the weapon in the grass and walked away.
Tom watched as the camp burned and shook his head. “Has it really come to this Mark? Have we really fallen to such depths of brutality that we slay everyone in sight?”
“Welcome to the new world Tom, this is how we survive.”
“Maybe I don’t want to survive.”
“That’s your choice Tom; that is your choice,” Mark said and he left him standing beside the lake.
Mark and Nigel returned to the Black Springs Camp and Mark ordered everything burned. He stepped into Isabel’s house and set the pile he had stacked in the front room alight and stood watching as the fire grew. It burst through the ceiling and the heat drove him back.
He stepped out onto the porch, the flames burst from the windows behind him. Nigel stepped forward and saluted him as the rest of the group gathered around him now dressed in the colonel’s uniform.
They left the ruined camp behind them in a long procession of vehicles with Mark leading the way in the Ford F-150.
Chapter 29
October 12, 2032
Eighth year of the plague
Six years after operation scorched earth
Jim stood in the doorway and watched until his brother was out of site before stepping back inside the house. He returned to the meal he had started when he was interrupted by Charlie and the girl.
He knew the truth about Charlie; he also realized that no matter what he would have to be captured and that the men who were waiting for his call were not going to be happy that Charlie had slipped away; that he had let him go.
There was nothing for him to do now but his life was over and he knew that but perhaps Charlie, it was still difficult for him to call him that even after all these years had passed. Perhaps he would have a chance even it was a slim one at best.
He took another bite of cold beans and pulled a walkie-talkie from his vest and sat it on the table in front of him and lit a cigarette. This would more than likely not end well for Charlie he knew that but he had to at least give him a chance to learn the truth about himself. He stared at the radio and then picked it up and keyed the mike.
"This is Jim, the plan fell apart; he got away."
The radio crackled and a voice from the other end came on. "He got away, what about the Wasters we placed there?"
"He was too much for them, he killed them all."
"What about the girl?"
"She didn't make it, the Wasters got her.”
“Wait right there Jim we’ll be along shortly.”
…
“I’m going to give you one more chance, I’m very disappointed in you Jim I had heard such great things about you but then you go and do something like this.” The bald man said.
Jim was on his knees and two other men held him down. The bald man knelt down and whispered in Jim’s ear.
“Where is your brother?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Jim sputtered through bloody lips.
“He was here, you talked to him and you let him go didn’t you; you let him go? You know what he is and you let him go?
Jim grunted as the bearded man punched him in the face and blood spattered as his nose broke. He fell to the ground and the men gathered around him began to kick him.
“Stop, stop we can’t get anything out of him if he’s dead now back off!” the bald man yelled. “Stand him up.”
The men jerked Jim up; his hair was covered in blood and ran down into his face.
“Now what did he say to you? The bald man said.
Jim’s head hung across his chest, the bearded man grabbed him by the hair and Jim mouthed something. The bald man took him by the chin and put his ear close so he could hear. Jim whispered into his ear and the bald man’s countenance changed to one of anger.
He looked Jim in the eye and shook his head. He let go his hold on Jim and walked away and motioned for the bearded man to follow. The bald man picked up the can of beans Jim had been eating from and scraped the last spoonful from it and put it in his mouth.
‘Kill him,” he said. “No, tie him up good and leave him, the girl will take care of him.”
“The bearded man watched as the bald man disappeared out the front door before turning his attention to Jim.
“Give me that rope and the broomstick from over there,” he said.
The bald man stepped outside and called for his horse. He took the reins and climbed up and waited for the others inside the house.
“Let the dogs loose, I know exactly where he‘s going,” he said.
Chapter 30
Welcome to New Mexico
Wednesday March 23, 2033
Charlie stood in the middle of the highway gazing at the faded yellow and red sign. The ribbon of highway ahead of him disappeared over a small rise in the distance. In the opposite direction, a sign several yards back and on the opposite side of the road read “Welcome to Texas.” He usually steered clear of highways and for good reason, but U.S. 54 would take him to I-40 which in turn would lead to the west coast.
He walked to the railroad tracks which ran parallel to the highway and climbed up the embankment to the track bed which was elevated about seven feet higher than the road and put his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the surrounding area.
There was nothing but empty space as far as the eye could see. He had been walking in this land of tall grass and cactus for days not certain just where he was but seeing life thrive again was refreshing after having traveled inside of the incineration zones He decided it was best to walk on the side of the elevated railway opposite the highway; he stood a better chance of going unseen there on the off chance someone did happen to come along.
He spent the next hour walking while periodically clambering up to the tracks to take a look through his binoculars. Being this close to a road made him nervous. At one point he saw a sign lying by the roadway which read.
“Narvaez 4”
After another hour he had reached the outskirts of the small village. He again climbed to the tracks and lay prone while he scanned the empty streets. It seemed deserted but that did not count for much in this world.
He reached into his pack and pulled out his last canteen of water and shook it, there remained only one sip, he would have to find water soon. He looked back toward the town shimmering in the distance. He was not usually one to enter a town in full daylight but he was in dire need of water.
He slid back down from the tracks and moved cautiously toward town. He came upon the first signs of civilization he had encountered in some time. Automobiles from the last century, rusted hulks of a time when man ruled the earth, a graveyard, testament to a time when humans zipped about freely on great interstates without fear of being eaten by a dead neighbor.
Gingerly he made his way through the scattered automobiles. He spotted a dilapidated house about a hundred yards away tucked in among some elm trees. Dappled shadows played about on its roof as the trees swayed in the afternoon breeze.
He reached the last row of cars and hid himself behind one and carefully watched the house for a time. He sat there for about twenty minutes and upon seeing nothing to arouse his suspicions; he proceeded.
He ran quickly towards an outbuilding and hid himself in the shadows and pulled the shotgun from his pack and cautiously moved toward the house. He stepped onto the concrete porch and followed the barrel of his weapon inside.
Quickly moving out of the light of the doorway he followed the wall as he made his way around the room. He was in the kitchen of the home; there was a large arched entry at the other side of the kitchen which led to the rest of the house.
He hesitated before he entered and again after hearing nothing he slid into what must have been the living room. He stood there in the gloom, dust kicked up by his boots danced in a sliver of sunlight which penetrated the tattered and faded curtains on the window.
He did not see the arrow coming. He heard a slight snap from the doorway opposite his position in the front room and then a slight whizzing noise as the projectile flew past his ear missing him by less than an inch.
The arrow thudded into the wall behind him and it was several seconds before he was able to react. He jumped sideways and rolled into the fireplace just as another arrow jammed itself into the wall beside the first.
Flames erupted from the muzzle of his twelve gauge just as an arrow split the wood of the fireplace surround. He chambered another round and the spent shell was sent bouncing across the floor. He fired again and the blast sent splinters from the door frame flying in every direction.
Another arrow almost parted his hair and lodged in the fireplace. He lunged for the opposite corner of the room and fired. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the room as his Mossberg 500 exploded once again and stuffing was sent flying from a chair across the room.
Silently he lay there listening but all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his head. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours, and then he heard shuffling from the back room. He saw the toe of a boot appear in the doorway, and then a second next to that one.
It was then he saw the crossbow and then a person with a quiver of arrows on their back stepped into the room. The individual hesitated and looked around but did not see Charlie crouched in the dark corner.
When the person turned their attention to the kitchen Charlie pounced, jamming his shoulder hard into the person’s back. The crossbow was sent crashing into the wall, it fired upon hitting the floor and the arrow slammed into the ceiling.
The two struggled but Charlie held his attacker fast to the floor. He shoved the muzzle of his shotgun in the back of his assailant’s neck.
“Who the hell are you?” He screamed.
There was no answer.
“Who are you?” He repeated.
Charlie grabbed the person by the shoulder and threw them over onto their back and stuck the gun hard under their chin.
“I’m only going to ask you this once more, you either start talking or I’m gonna—”
“Peter, my names is Peter, don’t shoot me!”
Charlie was taken aback by the high pitched voice and anger turned to shock. With the cloud of rage removed the face of his attacker came plainly into focus, it was that of a boy, a boy no older than thirteen.
Charlie jerked the child up by his lapel and tossed him back against the wall.
“What the hell are you doing here kid, how did you get out here?”
“I live here, not here but back that way.” Peter said pointing back over his head.
“You live here, in this town?”
“Yes, I have all of my life, I was born here,” the boy answered, shaking.
“Where are your parents?”
“My dad died, last year sometime, I never knew my mother, she died giving birth to me.”
Charlie stepped over and picked the crossbow up.
“Nice weapon. You ambushed me, how did you know I was here.”
“I saw you when you were on the tracks. I was looking for sleeping Wasters who may have stumbled into town and I saw a flash of light, must have been the glint from the sun off your binoculars or something. I figured a group of raiders was out there and I came in here to hide but when you came in I couldn’t take any chances.”
Charlie stood eyeing the boy. He was wearing camouflage army fatigues and heavy boots and an army style cap with a Marine insignia on it.
“You mentioned Wasters, you’ve seen any?”
“Yeah, some of them I used to know, they lived and worked here. We, my dad and I disposed of quit a few of them. Some wander in out of the desert and lately there have been a lot more of them.”
“You kill them with this?”
“If you can hit them square in the head, you can make them pretty manageable and I got pretty good with that thing. Once they’re down I set them on fire or cut their heads off just to be sure.”
“Well, I guess your aim was off today, lucky for me.” Charlie said.
Charlie turned and started for the door.
“Hey man, you gonna give that back or what?” Peter yelled at Charlie.
“You got any water, kid?”
“Yeah, I got water, all you can drink, but I need my bow first.”
“You lead me to the water, and I’ll see about giving it back.”
“No, first the bow and then you get the water.”
“Look kid, I don’t mean any harm, I need you to walk in front of me and lead me to water, you hear? I can do this one of two ways.” Charlie said as he raised the shotgun and leveled it at Peter.
“You wouldn’t!” Peter yelled.
“Who’s gonna stop me?” Charlie said looking around “Nobody, that’s who, nothing to stop me except my conscious, and I dealt with that years ago. Now I can find this water on my own, it may take a little longer but I will find it. You have a choice to make now make a decision.”
Peter’s shoulders slumped as his mind resigned to the fact that he was defeated; for now.
“Alright, but at least let me gather my arrows.”
Charlie kept his weapon trained on Peter as he went around the room gathering his arrows. Peter picked up the last one and gripped it tight in his hands staring angrily at Charlie. Charlie’s kept his finger taught on the trigger of his weapon, the duo stood eying each other for a moment and then Peter stuck the arrows in the quiver on his back.
“Ok son, after you.” Charlie said pointing the way with his shotgun.
Peter led the way out of the gloomy house and outside into the harsh light of late afternoon. Peter led Charlie to a lone tree several yards outside of town. There he showed him and old water pump. Charlie pumped the handle until water began to flow from the spout.
He put his head under the flow and the boy took over pumping. Charlie drank his fill, then removed shirt and immersed himself in the cold liquid. After he had finished washing the dirt from his body and quenching his thirst he sat down and leaned against the tree and took out a cigarette.
“Alright kid, here’s your bow, guess I’ll take my chances with you from here on out but just remember you best get the drop on me cause if you don‘t; well.” Charlie said tapping the shotgun.
Peter took the bow from Charlie and put the strap over his shoulder and looked up at the sky, “we need to get inside, it‘ll be dark soon.”
Charlie did not move immediately, but instead continued to puff away on the cigarette.
“Alright, lead the way,” he said tossing the butt away.
After a half hour of walking Charlie stopped and looked behind him, he could barely see the town and in front there was nothing but wilderness.
“Hey, where are you taking me? I don’t see anything out here,” Charlie exclaimed.
“Right over there.” Peter said, pointing at several derelict vehicles sitting next to a mesa. This is where I live.”
“You live here?” Charlie said looking around at the cars.
There were about fifteen automobiles, all in various stages of decomposition. The boy wound his way through the vehicles before stopping at one. He looked at Charlie and then pulled out a set of keys and opened the trunk.
“Over Here,” he said.
Charlie walked around to the back of the car and cautiously looked into the trunk; the back of the car was partially sunk into the earth. The boy lifted the floor of the trunk and revealed a hole which had been dug into the earth, a ladder led down into the darkness.
“Down there?” Charlie said with a note of consternation in his voice.
Peter climbed over onto the ladder without answering and descended into the blackness. Soon, Charlie saw light at the bottom of the hole. Then the boy appeared holding a lantern in one hand and a container in the other.
“Come on down, I have food, oh and could you pull the lid down and replace the cover behind you?” Peter said.
At this point Charlie really had no option but to trust the boy. He pulled the trunk lid down and cautiously descended the ladder, turning his head and checking out every inch of the room below. Soon his feet were on the ground. The boy sat a container of water next to him and walked to the other side of the room.
The room was about twenty feet square and was lined top to bottom in wood and there were a couple of cots against one wall. The boy stood in what looked to be a makeshift kitchen in which cans of food were stacked from floor to ceiling.
Peter climbed upon a step ladder.” What’ll ya have, I got Spam, corned beef hash, stew, chicken noodle soup, beans, you name it and I got it.”
“Got any rib eyes in there? Charlie said.
“No I’m afraid I ate last one the other night,” Peter said chuckling.
“Well then, how about some of that corned beef?”
