The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4) (4 page)

Chapter 6 People, Too

They kept their voices down after that, afraid their words would carry over the wind and water. They quickly huddled and had a bite of their rations, and Dalton relayed the plan to take the first load upriver with Rick and Sam.

“How the hell are we going to get the horse trailer on there?” McCann asked as he watched Rick pilot the small barge loaded down with the first truck, Dalton and Sam keeping guard as the boat lazily floated eastward on the lake.

Reuben shook his head. “Got me. I’d say walk them around, but—he motioned to the mountains around the lake—“I’d say that would take you at least a week.”

“Will they keep calm if you walk them onto the barge and just hold them still?” Graham asked.

McCann visualized the situation. Though they had lost one of the horses to the invaders, they still had three altogether. He thought they might come in handy in the future, and leaving them behind would be like abandoning Sheriff. McCann loved the horses, so it just wasn’t an option. But having them outside their trailer on a barge in open water, anything could happen—and likely nothing good. He and the horses were guaranteed a long swim in any scenario he could fathom. “No,” he said, “they’ve really got to be in the trailer.”

“We’re going to have to pull the trailer onto the barge and then load them into it that way,” McCann advised. “Operation in reverse when we arrive there. There’s not enough room for the trailer and the truck at the same time.”

“Graham, do you have leashes for the dogs in case they decide to swim for it?” Reuben asked.

Graham and McCann both looked at Reuben like he was crazy. “A leash? On Sheriff? Heck no,” Graham answered. “I don’t think we’ve ever leashed him. It was hard enough getting him tied up just now.”

Reuben raised his hands up in a mock-defensive gesture and chuckled. “No offense, but that dog thinks he’s people.”

Graham nodded, but stared straight ahead.
How do you convey the importance of Sheriff to a man whose never been loved by a dog?
“Sheriff
is
people. He’s one of the finest people I’ve come across. I’m sure they’ll be fine on the water. No leashes necessary.”

Graham got along with all the preppers, but at times Reuben rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, and this example wasn’t one to draw from, but Reuben was a stickler for keeping to the rules of the civilized world—even things like staying within the speed limit or stopping at a stop sign. But in this uncivilized world, such things no longer mattered. Graham had never shared this sentiment with anyone but Tala, as they lay together in the moonlight whispering their innermost thoughts, but something told him McCann felt the same way. The kid kept an eye on Reuben, and a slight distance at all times.

Rick waved at them from the distancing barge, and this broke Graham’s train of thought. The sun was high, and there still remained a lot to do before the light was gone, leaving Graham to ponder once again whether the old lamps lining the dam would brighten this vast open space.

Chapter 7 Cabins on the Lake

“This is a beautiful lake,” Rick whispered loudly over the sound of the engine as it pushed the barge through the water. “Don’t think I’ve seen a lake this color before. What’s up with that?”

Sam stood aft on the barge, keeping a close eye on the scenery that passed by. “I read a plaque back there. Apparently they call it
mountain flour
. It’s from the glaciers grinding away at the moun—”

“Can you guys discuss the unique attributes of our location
after
we arrive safely?” Dalton interrupted from the front of the barge, a firm grip on his rifle and an eye out for any signs of trouble.

“Yes,
sirrr
!” Rick said, giving up on hearing the explanation of why the water was teal blue.

“Hey, look over there!” Dalton yelled. “See that hanger? Let’s check that out first.”

Rick steered the barge over to where a tan metal hanger sat on the water. When they reached the building, Dalton edged himself over, jumped on the attached dock, and pulled open the hanger door with a loud
clang
. Inside were two seaplanes; they had no use for them right now, so Dalton closed the door, but at least they knew where they were if they ever needed them.

As he climbed aboard the barge again, Dalton felt a moist, refreshing breeze across his face. Rick’s long hair blew backward, tickling his ears, and he brushed his arm over his face as he steered the barge to the east end of Diablo and into the Skagit River, which would take them to Ross Lake. The action triggered a memory of Steven; anything slightly humorous always did. It drove Rick crazy when things were quiet like this and he was left with only his thoughts. He rubbed his left hand over his head again, more to brush away the painful memory of his friend.

~ ~ ~

As the river widened into Ross Lake, they could finally see the cabins, just up a bit on the left. Though they were visible from Highway 20, they were still at too great a distance for the invaders to have gotten to them without an advantageous head start. Which reminded Dalton: if there were residents here, it was likely they were watching them at this very moment.

A shiver ran up Dalton’s spine. His hand came up, and Rick slowed the barge. Letting the engine idle, Rick looked at Dalton, and then at the cabins. “What do you think?”

Dalton shook his head. “I don’t see anything. What do you think, Sam?”

Sam walked up the length of the barge, past the trucks, to Dalton’s position and surveyed the area. Several cabins stood in a row with a boardwalk and a dock along the waterfront. He paused. Something wasn’t right. Something caused Rick unease too, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was; still, something nagged at him as he looked for any signs of life.

“Too neat,” Sam said after a few moments. “Just like the dam area. Someone’s cleaning up here.” He turned his attention to the tethered boats. “Sure, there are broken limbs and stuff lying around, but these boats would be partially sunk by now with all the storms we’ve had—not to mention the accumulated snowpack. Someone’s been here or
is still
here. Probably set up those traps back on Diablo as a kind of warning too.”

“Hello?” Dalton shouted with one hand cupped around his mouth. “Anyone here? We don’t want anything from you, and we mean no harm. We’re only passing through.” The three men watched for any sign or noise that might alert them to the presence of others, but the waves just rippled rhythmically against the side of the barge.

“Move in a little closer, Rick,” Dalton said.

The breeze picked up slightly, and Sam slowly raised the business end of his gun. That simple action caused Dalton’s heart to race a little bit faster. Sam must have sensed it. “I’m only looking through the scope to get a better look,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong—yet.”

Dalton’s vision darted from one side to the other, checking windows for movements, listening for the distinctive click of a shotgun slug chambering action—anything to indicate they were about to be deterred. With his lower lip held firmly in his teeth, they approached the weathered dock and slid alongside a fishing boat.

Rick killed the engine and they stood stock still, crouched and ready for an attack certain to come in the next millisecond. But after nearly a minute, nothing had happened.

Sam broke their vigilance first. “Let’s clear it?”

Dalton nodded, motioning with hand signals to Rick to remain on guard. Sam stepped onto the dock and covered their position as Dalton followed him. Dalton couldn’t shake the feeling that they were out in the open and a clear open target. He hoped whoever lived here was, at very least, a bad shot. He tapped Sam on the back, and they moved forward together, each watching an end of the boardwalk.

They aimed right at the end of the small dock and went for what appeared to be the office of the establishment. Considering the rooms were probably locked, Dalton thought the keys might be in the office, and instead of wasting time and safety on a probable locked door, they headed straight there. Slow step upon slow step, each aiming, each vigilant and acutely aware of what a decrease in their numbers could mean for their overall survival. It came to that, the number of them left; how fleeting lives were, and how easily lost.

“Try the door,” said Dalton, breathless, his heart pounding its way out of his rib cage.

Sam grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked at Dalton and shook his head.

Dalton could see that there was no deadbolt located above the doorknob. “Stand back,” he said, and as soon as Sam was clear, he raised his boot and quickly sent it to the spot where the lock met the doorframe. The cracking sound of splintered wood sent birds fleeing through the air and crudely reverberated over the tranquil lake like the squeal of tires before an accident.

The white door shot inward, revealing a darkened interior. Dalton braced his back against the doorframe, expecting a volley of bullets to fly toward their position. Even though the temperature was only in the high sixties, sweat covered his face.

“We’re not here to hurt you. Don’t shoot. Just tell us you’re here!” he yelled, further annihilating the peaceful atmosphere. Seconds passed in silence. He nodded toward Sam, took a deep breath, and rushed into the darkened room.

Straining his vision in the dimness, he scanned the room’s layout. One door led to the back, another to where the bathroom might be. Sam followed, and they opened each door to check the rooms.

“Clear,” Dalton said out of an old habit no longer necessary.

“Are there keys anywhere?”

Breathless from the adrenaline rush, Dalton pointed to a key rack mounted behind the main door.

Sam said, “There’s one missing.”

“One of the keys?”

“Yeah. Cabin seven.”

Dalton looked at the keyboard hanging on the wall and, in fact, keys swung from every hook except the one for cabin 7. “Hmmm . . . you think there’s someone here and they’re staying in cabin seven? Can it really be that easy?”

“Maybe someone was left here when the sickness began. Maybe cabin seven is the owner’s cabin, or the caretaker’s?”

“Well, let’s go find out. Grab the keys to the others. We’ll clear them along the way. The noise might rattle them out of their hidey-hole.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind they’ve heard us by now, if there’s anyone here.”

Dalton agreed. Whoever was here was either hiding in fear or waiting to ambush them. He had to convince the residents that even though they were trespassing, Dalton’s group didn’t intend to stay more than one night, and he wanted to warn them about the enemy to the south.

As they exited the office, Rick nodded in their direction. Dalton pointed down to the row of cabins, and Rick understood their intention. Dalton cautiously walked down the row of cabins and Sam followed, covering their rear. An attack could come from any direction, and though they were guarding against the most obvious, they were completely vulnerable.

At cabin 7, the one missing its key, Dalton looked in the window before opening the door. The dark interior showed no signs of life, so he knocked loudly. “Anyone there?” He paused as his plea echoed across the lake. He tilted his head toward the rear of the cabin for Sam to check it out. After a few seconds, Sam called it clear.

Dalton reached for the doorknob and turned it, and the door opened easily. Sam rejoined him, and the two stepped inside. The combination living room and kitchen was clean and neat, with white cabinet fronts and light streaming through a small window framed in cheery yellow plaid curtains above the kitchen sink. The bedroom and loft bunk room slept four easily, and the beds were neatly made. There were no personal affects lying about, and no dirty dishes, but there was wood stacked by the woodstove and clean, dry towels hung neatly in the bathroom.

“What’s out of place here?” Dalton asked Sam. “Sure, it’s a cabin rental, it should be clean and tidy, but what am I missing?”

“It smells fresh,” Sam answered. “The upstairs window is cracked open a few inches. Nothing’s out of place, and there isn’t a musty smell; there would be if that window had been shut the whole time. Someone’s keeping this place up.” Sam pointed behind Dalton’s head toward the door. “There’s your missing key.” Beside the doorframe, at eye level, key number 7 hung from a hook.

Dalton flipped on a light switch; nothing happened. “No power. Not that I expected it.”

“Someone must be maintaining the dam. Leeching out the water after storms, taking care of these cabins. Do you want to keep going, or stay here tonight?”

“As much as I’d like to keep going, it’ll take all day to get everyone over here. We’ll stay put until tomorrow,” Dalton said.

With that they headed back to the boat to drive off the truck. When they were through, Sam stayed with the truck while Rick and Dalton returned with the barge for the next load.

~ ~ ~

Graham and McCann were left to fend for themselves and the horses as they waited to be picked up for the last trip upriver. The hum of the barge engine faded in the distance as the sun dipped behind the mountains, leaving an atmospheric glow. The breeze off the lake wafted in more of a chill than before. “We’re staying in the cabins?” McCann asked, trying to make easy conversation as he held his rifle out, peering into the growing darkness and chewing on a twig.

“Yep. Rotating guard, of course. They say there’s no electricity, but there is running water—God help me, I can’t figure that one out—and there are clean sheets, on
real
beds. We’ll sleep very well, at least for tonight. In shifts, that is.”

“Seems kinda creepy if you ask me,” McCann said.

Graham chuckled, “Yeah, well, I’ll take one night of comfort even if I’m creeped out a bit.”

“I’d rather sleep in the woods. Is that weird?”

Graham shook his head, grinning in the dark. McCann was always so serious. They needed that, but Graham was sorry that it was so. McCann never let his guard down, and unfortunately that’s what it took to survive in the world now.

The horses whinnied inside the trailer, and one long tail slapped the side of the gate. Graham happened to be looking at the dam when the lamps suddenly flashed on, saving the dusk from the fading light. “I’ll be damned,” he said, chuckling at his own wordplay.

“Is it on a battery?”

“I have no idea. We couldn’t get inside. The place is locked in a steel casing, like a fort.”

“The damn dam . . .” McCann rolled the twig between his teeth.

“Good one.” Graham had never heard anything funny come out of McCann, so he encouraged even this simple bit of wordplay.

Suddenly the radio in Graham’s hand came to life with Rick’s voice. “You guys okay? Over.”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Over.”

“We saw the lights come on. Over.”

“Yep. A reminder of the past; someone forgot to turn them off when they left. Over.”

“Check. We’ll be back in about forty-five. Rick out.”

A large crane fly drifted by in the ambient light of the electric torch lamps, and as dusk turned to dark, the soft timbre of the crickets grew louder.

“Nothing they could have done for us anyway, that far away.” McCann speculated.

“No, you’re right,” Graham said. “It’s survival, and hope for the best; but if you have to, go down fighting.” He flashed suddenly on the wretched image of Dutch’s last minutes.
These days, too, shall pass
. He hoped so, for everyone’s sake.

~ ~ ~

Graham turned on his flashlight at last when he heard the faint murmur of the barge engine revving louder as it came back across Diablo toward them.

“Finally,” McCann said faintly, kicking at the ground with his boot.

Graham knew the young man by now; his anticipation wasn’t out of fear as much as distance. McCann never let Macy out of his sight willingly, or for long. Graham understood; his own desire to be beside Tala and protect her grew stronger by the minute.