Read The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4) Online
Authors: A. R. Shaw
The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4) (6 page)
Dalton suppressed a chuckle.
“Look, I ran into a guy like that not too long ago, outside Seattle, where Bang, the girls, and I came from. He was the self-appointed
mayor
of the town, a real nutcase. I’m telling you, it’s not a good sign, and I don’t think we should hang around here. We should leave—
now
.”
“It’s still too dark,” Dalton said. “Let’s give it a few more hours.”
“No one’s going to go back to sleep now anyway,” Graham said, pointing to the cabin directly in front of them. “He’s warning us. I don’t want to be here to see what happens next.”
Dalton turned and saw Lucy and Addy’s frightened faces peering out the window of his own cabin. He shook his head in frustration.
“He could have rigged the juice to generators,” Rick added. “It’s plausible; I’m with Graham. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. I’m going to fall asleep, and that crap is going to happen all over again. He booby-trapped this place, leaving all the switches on. Screw it. Let’s pack up and get the hell out of here.”
Dalton held up his hands. All right. We’re all awake, whether we like it or not.” He stared out toward a faint glow in the sky that had to be coming from the dam lights. “Maybe it was his way of telling us to get out. Let’s go ahead and begin packing things up.”
In time everyone’s belongings were packed. The first vehicle, including Sam, was already across the border and waiting in Canada, but this would be an all-day undertaking.
“I think I should leave a few doses of the vaccine for the dam guy,” Clarisse said.
Dalton stood on the boat dock waiting for Rick to make his way back. He could see him in the distance and barely heard the hum of the engine as it approached. “Uh-uh, no way,” Dalton said. “He scared the crap out of us and turned the lights on. No, the dam guy can do without.”
They were having a little fun with the name.
“He’s just a crazy dam guy. What if he gets exposed to us and dies?”
“Screw the dam guy. How do we know there’s just one? Hell, it might be a dam girl. You’re being sexist.” Dalton smiled at Clarisse.
“Seriously, you’re infuriating. I should leave a few vials with a thank-you note. We might have to come back this way again someday.”
“Think about what you’re saying. Would you inject yourself with something left by strangers claiming it would cure you of the incurable?”
Clarisse pondered the situation. “That’s a good point. Screw the dam guy,” she began to walk away. “I have several left. I’ll pack them in a cooler and leave them in the office anyway. Can’t hurt,” she said, and he shook his head at her insistence.
When Rick approached, Dalton noticed he looked awful—pale and drawn. “As soon as we get underway, you’re sleeping. That’s an order. Why don’t we have Reuben pilot the barge for a while?”
“No, I can do it. This place is starting to give me the creeps. Let’s get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”
“Okay. Next up is Reuben’s truck. We’re all pretty much ready to go.”
By the time they were finished loading the truck onto the barge, the sunrise was beginning to bloom. The birds began chirping as Rick finished a cup of coffee someone had pushed into his hand.
~ ~ ~
After the three more trips and many hours, the only thing left was the horse trailer. Dalton stayed on with McCann, awaiting the barge’s return. He checked out the office and found that Clarisse had, in fact, left a note and three vials of the vaccine on ice in a spare cooler with instructions. He thought it strange, but perhaps the dam guy hadn’t meant to scare them after all. Maybe he only wanted to make contact in the only way he knew how. It didn’t matter now. They were leaving, and if the dam guy was watching, he would see that they’d left him a present. When they came back—and they
would
come back—they’d find out for sure who this dam guy was.
Dalton secured the lid on the cooler so the vaccine would stay viable for several days under those conditions. He hoped it wouldn’t go to waste. He closed the front door of the office and in the bright afternoon sun that still carried a nip in the spring air, he walked back to McCann’s station next to the horse trailer as the barge floated up to the dock.
~ ~ ~
The road they were to take started at the north end of Lake Ross and led farther north, away from the border. It would be the last they’d see of the United States until they came up with a plan to return and take it back. Dalton stood on the back of the barge as they crossed the border. It killed him to leave his own country, and he vowed they’d be back. He wouldn’t let the jihadists just have it, but for now he reluctantly said good-bye, with one consolation: America was in the hearts of those who traveled with him, and together they would fight for their home no matter what it took.
They were driving on pavement once again, and Rick settled down in the backseat of Sam’s truck. He didn’t care where he was, really, as long as he could shut his eyes and get some sleep. He was the only one who hadn’t had a chance to shower in an actual shower or sleep in an actual bed, but he didn’t care; the farther he got his wife and daughter away from the terrorists the better. In a few hours, they would be near Hope. He would be rested, and they could begin to make plans to rid themselves of those animals once and for all.
He had a few ideas, but they came during dreams, and though he tried to grasp them, he wasn’t sure if they were real or if his mind was simply trying to allay his fears during sleep. In any event, he thought of little else, and a few tricks were beginning to take form. He had no concrete plan as of yet, but he was working on one.
“Rick!” Sam yelled. The voice sounded far off. “Rick!” Sam yelled again.
What the hell does he want?
“
Rick!
”
“What?” Rick yelled back.
“Time to wake up. We’re almost there, but we’re stopping for a bit. Dalton wants to regroup before we get too close to Hope in case we meet up with anyone there.”
“I’ve been asleep
all day
?”
“Yeah. You’ve been talking in your sleep, too. Snoring like a damn bazooka,” Sam said gruffly, looking genuinely annoyed.
Rick rubbed his head. “I feel like we just left.”
Sam got out of the truck with haste and grabbed his rifle. “That was hours ago, and I’ve been a prisoner to your noise long enough.”
“Sam?” Rick called out, but he’d already slammed the truck door shut.
What the heck was I talking about?
Rick climbed out of the truck and found Sam talking to Olivia beside the road, where she’d set up a coffee dispenser for those who wanted a caffeine jolt; at the same time, Lucy handed out meal packets and water bottles for dinner.
“No, he’s riding with you the rest of the way,” Rick could hear Sam say as he approached.
“Olivia was kind enough to marry you,” Sam said. “You can ride with her the rest of the way.” He walked off, coffee in hand.
“What is his problem?” Rick asked as Olivia handed him a cup.
“You’re snoring could drive any sane man crazy, Rick. Why do you think I sleep with earplugs?”
Before he could retort, Dalton interrupted. “Okay, everyone, listen up. The sun will be setting soon, and I think we have another half hour before we enter Hope. It’s the largest town we’ve been to since . . . well, since the bear attack. Anyway, it’s geographically secluded, but there may be people there. We just don’t know anything yet. Remember, there may still be individuals out there who are susceptible to the pandemic, so keep your distance. And let’s all stick together; don’t get separated. Any questions?”
“Where are we going to stop?” Tala asked.
“We have a map, but none of us has actually been there before. So we’ll head into town and stop at the first accessible place we can bunk for the night. Tomorrow we’ll check things out and see what’s available. We’ll look at a school or a larger building we can use for the night.
“This is dangerous. We don’t know what’s out there, but it’s our chance to survive for a while away from the terrorists who’ve taken over our country. Be vigilant, and stay together.”
They dispersed to their vehicles, Rick riding with Olivia and the children. As usual, Dalton led the caravan and Reuben brought up the rear.
The western sky turned a flamboyant cast of purple at dusk as they headed north through the last winding curves of the two-lane road leading to Hope. Because the road was flanked by evergreen trees, it might as well been the middle of the night; visibility was low, and having to maneuver the caravan around several fallen trees took time and patience.
The drive reminded Graham of when he, the twins, Bang, and Sheriff first drove into Cascade. It seemed like only yesterday. He remembered thinking at one point then that everything was just a dream until he looked to the passenger seat and saw a sleepy little six-year-old or in the rearview mirror to glance at the twins and the police dog in the back. Then he would remember why they were there together—it was no dream—and his vision would shift to the world outside the car’s window.
“Are we there yet?” came Bang’s voice from the backseat.
Tala looked at Graham and stifled a laugh.
What a normal thing for a child to say.
“We’ll be there soon, buddy. You okay?” Graham asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“If you get tired, Bang, just go ahead and sleep,” Tala said.
Since the last stop, both Bang and Sheriff had opted to ride with Graham, and he could tell the boy had had enough of the long trip. After a while, he could see neither Bang nor Sheriff in the darkened back seat of the Scout and assumed they had gone to sleep.
They traveled in silence, Graham and Tala both deep in thought. After a few more winding curves, the brake lights of Dalton’s truck shone bright in front of them and Graham noticed a building on the left up ahead.
“Guess this is it?” Tala said.
“Might be.”
Graham put the truck into park and watched as Dalton exited the driver’s side and walked back to the Scout. Graham wasn’t sure why he didn’t just use the radio.
Maybe he needs to walk a little.
Graham rolled down his window and allowed the cool evening air to spill inside. Tala pulled a blanket around herself.
“What’s up?”
“We’re on the edge of town. There’s a roadblock ahead,” Dalton said.
“Hmmm—past or present?” Graham asked.
“Looks pretty current. There’s a light. I didn’t want to use the radio in case there’s an intercept. We don’t know who we’re dealing with here.”
“Doesn’t sound like the invaders’ standard operating procedure to put up a light at a roadblock.”
“No, it doesn’t; looks more military. There might be more people here than we thought,” Dalton speculated.
“What do you want to do?” Graham asked.
“I think . . . Rick and I should approach on foot. See if anyone comes to greet us.”
“Like the Welcome Wagon?” Graham kidded.
“Yeah, why not? It could happen. We’re due for a break, after all.” Rick and Sam now approached after climbing out of their own vehicles.
Graham listened as Dalton relayed the plan, and pretty soon everyone shut off their vehicles to conserve fuel. Both Rick and Dalton geared up with heavier coats and larger weapons. They both wore NVGs loosely around their necks, since night had blackened their world completely in the little time it took them to get ready.
Graham waved at them as they passed his truck and watched as Dalton stopped at the lead truck and spoke to Clarisse. It was the first time he’d seen them kiss in public. Clarisse’s shadow climbed over the driver’s seat as he reached for her in the cab. It was an intimate moment, and Graham found himself looking away and then at Tala in the dark. He found her knee and held it tight. She covered his hand with her own. There were times in life that nothing need be said, and this was one of those moments.
Dalton gave the signal to turn off the headlights of the parked vehicles, and almost in unison they did so, plunging them all into total darkness. They were on their way. Sam was on watch somewhere, and everyone was on order to stay off the radios.
Graham assumed that Dalton and Rick would be gone a few minutes and then find a way to get around an abandoned roadblock.
But that’s not what happened. Not by a long shot.
Sam stood at the tree line, watching carefully through his NVG goggles as Rick and Dalton walked toward the roadblock. Reuben was guarding the rear of the convoy. Before the two had set off, Sam had warned them that the roadblock looked active, and something about the setting bothered him, but both Rick and Dalton seemed unconcerned.
They’re getting lax and tired. Something bad’s going to happen. I can just feel it.
No sooner had the thought crossed Sam’s mind than he found himself reeling from bright lights that pierced his pupils. It was a shocking transition; the NVGs, intended for use in the dark, blinded those who were exposed to sudden flashes of light.
“Oh my God!” he yelled, pulling off the goggles and rubbing his eyes. Suddenly someone shoved him to the ground hard from behind, and Sam heard the zipping sound of PlastiCuffs binding his wrists. He was a prisoner before he even had a chance to think.
Sam began blindly kicking at whoever had attacked him when he heard the distinct crying of his daughter Addy among a cacophony of screams. He stopped stone cold as his watery vision recovered. Armed men in Tyvek suits were pulling everyone out of their vehicles and lining them up against the trucks.
“She can’t hear!” Clarisse screamed at one suited man who had a hysterical Addy by the arm as she tried to flee to her father. “Please let me take her.”
Thank God
, Sam thought. He rolled over to see who had accosted him just in time to catch the butt end of a rifle slamming into the side of his head.
Moments later he came to, and found himself in the back of an enclosed truck, with Graham stemming the flow of blood coming from the wound in his head.
“What the hell happened?”
Graham shook his head quickly as an indication to Sam to keep silent. Sam shifted his eyes over to two suited guys sitting at the back of the truck, guns pointed in their direction.
“Not very humorous, are they,” Sam mumbled.
“One more word out of you and he dies,” one of the guards said. His rifle was aimed at McCann, who was seated in front of them with more than one bleeding wound to the head. Sam took one look at McCann and figured the young man had probably tried to fight his way through but had come out at the wrong end.
Sam nodded, looking up at Graham again. Graham tugged him into a sitting position, which he greatly appreciated since the pressure of his weight on his arms was causing them to go numb. He could now see that the truck contained all the men from their group, including Rick and Dalton, and all were handcuffed except for Graham.
“Keep your hands where we can see them,” the guard yelled, and Graham immediately held them up. “He’s fine now, sit up there and keep your hands where we can see them.”
Sam wanted more than anything to know where Addy was, but as he looked around at everyone it was clear they weren’t speaking for a reason. Now and then one of them would make eye contact with him and then look down or off into their world, but no one tried even as much as a nod or to communicate in any way. He decided to follow their lead, since he didn’t understand the precarious position they now found themselves in.
He knew two things: they were traveling somewhere, given the vibration of the vehicle, and the voices of the two guards sounded more Canadian than anything foreign, so he’d bet they were not the Islamic terrorists. He couldn’t help thinking that he had known something wasn’t right at the roadblock and he’d botched communicating that to Dalton.
~ ~ ~
Everyone looked up at the guards expectantly and each other when the truck slowed with a squeak of the brakes before coming to a final stop. The guards rose and waited at the door. There were two pounds against the outside of the truck, and the guards responded with two more. The door swung open, and they stepped out. There six other men were also dressed in Tyvek and armed to the hilt, pointing their weapons at the inside of the vehicle.
“You”—the guard pointed to Graham—“step down here and help them off one by one. We’re going this way.” He pointed toward a dark gate, behind which was a doorway with minimal light. “Do anything stupid and all the women and children will be exterminated immediately along with the rest of you. No talking; no communicating. We don’t want any accidents. Any sudden moves, someone will die. Let’s go.”
Sam glanced at Dalton, who looked back at him with a stone straight face. Nothing to lead him to think they should act. These guys were obviously still susceptible to the virus. They outnumbered—and by the looks of things, outarmed—Graham and the preppers’ group. They had no options, and Sam had no idea how these men had managed to overtake them so easily.
Rick rose first after Graham, as the guard said, and stood by the back of the truck. Everyone else had their hands wrapped securely behind their backs with the plastic cuffs. Sam’s guess is that they didn’t find Graham that much of a threat with his limp: he wouldn’t get far out of shooting range if he ran.
Sam got in line behind Reuben, and once the rest were off, Graham was allowed to help McCann up off the bench. It was the first time he’d noticed that McCann not only had his hands tied behind his back but his legs were also tied at the ankles and his knees were even cuffed together.
Sam had to stifle a snicker as he watched the young man hobble forward, not at McCann’s predicament but at the thought of how he must have given them hell.
One of the guards held up his rifle and said, “One false move and that’s it, kid. I’m not putting up with your bullshit. You understand?” McCann nodded, and another guard walked over with wire cutters and pinched off the PlastiCuffs holding his legs and feet together.
Graham helped McCann climb down and guided him as they headed toward the dim gate.
“Keep walking,” the guard demanded, holding open a brown steel door. As they were ushered into a brick building, Sam caught a glimpse of the outside. There were steel bars over the windows and a heavy industrial lock on the door; an unmistakable feeling of finality jolted him as the door slammed shut behind them and they were left in a dimly lit room.
