The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2) (19 page)

As the sun sailed towards the west, my sealed coffin turned into
an oven of delusion and rash desperation. The windows were fixed
tight from weathered neglect, and the fear of the Prowler’s
prevented me from venturing below. Adrift in my own theorization,
stripped down to my skivvy’s, and sweating profusely, I lay upon
the lookout floor and basted away in molten misery.

My past, the present, and the future racked my brain with
constant cross examination. Dizzy and weakened by the haze, my
work, my life, all presented before me as Exhibit one thru eternity
within a diseased judicial trial. My crime, guilt by association, a
scientist condemned by science. Why? Why had I not found the
answer? Why did I let them all die? Why do I survive to fail, and all
others wither and kill?

Occasionally, between each adjourned session, I would peak
down below from the windows only to catch a glimpse of shadows
on the move. They skulk within the foliage, cunning and covert, they
circle my prison like vindictive wolves. Yet, not once did they
approach, not once did they attempt to climb the supports and smash
through the fragile glass before me. They were cautious as they
plotted and schemed just beyond my line of sight, unsure if they had
found an easy meal, or a trap. Tactics of the self-aware.

Eventually the sun faded, and night rolled over the hills, but the
heat remained persistent. If not for the bottle of water Abel had left
behind I would have surely succumb to the effects of dehydration
hours ago. But instead, I sat there peacefully, sipping away and
watching the liquid slowly fade. The night was calm, and with
comfort the local owls began their nightly hunts and ghostly
conversations. Whether it was just one, or a whole legion, their hoots
echoed amongst the peaks like a chorus from the damned.

“SHUT UP!” I cried
out as I huddled in the corner, trying to
achieve a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep.
“Talking to me?” The raspy voice muttered.
“All of you!” I stammered in return.
“It’s onlyme, myfriend.” The response now more familiar than
before. Glancing up my eyes focused on a dark figure adjacent to
me. Ash, in full battle gear, sitting fiercely with his arms resting
upon his knees.
“Mason? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Watching the master of failure.” He said.
“He hasn’t failed yet.” Another force chimed in. “But when he
does, it will be magnificent!” My eyes darted over, Adam leaned
back against the radio table, arms crossed as he gazed down upon
me. His eyes were black voids of endless despair.
“There’s still time.” I muttered.
“For who?” Mason questioned. “Pretty little Steph is dead, and
right now the Dark Ones are tearing that boy limb from limb.”
“You lie.” I snarled before sucking down what remained of the
water.
“Does he?” Another voice, this one deeper and somehow wiser
than the others. “Face it, it’s over. Why not end your misery, you
have your gun - use it.”
Slowly my gaze drifted about the room, searching for that third
voice, but there was no one else in the lookout. Only an old friend
and a lost soul, as well as myself, and even their existence was
impossible. But, in an instant, my eyes connected with a slight flutter
just outside the window. An owl, its marbled feathers lay flat and
pristine in the breezeless night and large but ever so wise baby-blues
peered down at me through the hazy glass.
“No!” I shouted at them. “There is another way.”
“Don’t fall prey, Patrick.” A sweet and meek voice whispered
to me. “You have done all you can – let go.”
This voice, much unlike the others, sent chills down my spine.
It was both comforting and distressing, aching my heart and
summoning cold thick tears. Those heavenly words drift from the
bird in the window, and as I stared at it with dreadful anticipation,
the vision began to blur. The Bird of Prey, fierce and agile, bit by
bit it distorted. Out of the fuzzy haze, the pristine figure of a young
woman emerged, her baby-blues now glowing an emerald green as
she stepped through the outer wall and approached me.
It was undoubtedly Mia, gorgeous and awe inspiring, I
marveled at her garmentless and petite figure as it was in her prime.
Sweet and innocent, a naive young girl with our lord and savior
scantily perceivable within her dainty midriff. Adam’s admiration
for her was understandable now, she was an angel, a goddess, a pure
soul hardened by a life of torment and misery. I too was in awe, and
trembled as she slowly knelt down before me and caressed my cheek
with a softness never felt before, a ghostly presence.
“Your failure is not unforgivable, but admirable.” She
continued to whisper. “You continue to fight, even though the fight
had been lost long ago. Wash your hands of it, seek out your wife
and daughter with satisfaction and in peace.”
Mia cusped my face with her soft and petite hands and leaned
closer, her billowy lips caressed mine with such divinity I could not
resist. A motherly perfume wafted from her and through my senses,
clean and pure, like a long awaited summer’s rain. And the
dampness of her lips, the fleecy touch of her tongue upon my own
only pulled me deeper into her intoxicating and erotic embrace. My
eyes closed as I was consumed by her seductiveness, entranced by
our carnal and sinful kiss. Her saliva washed over my taste-buds
with a cool sweetness that seemed to envelop my entire mouth
before perverting into a thick and irony sludge.
My eyes snapped open and I pushed her away with such force
that she fell hard upon the old cedar floor boards, and all at once, the
ghostly jurors taunted me with a chorus of laughter. Mia was no
longer the persona of perfection, but the hideous construct of her
own fate. Much like the day I found her remains, her eyes had been
torn away, and the flesh from her face stripped to the bone by the
mastication of necrotic incisors. Coagulated blood poured from the
wounds, like artificial and half-assed gore from a cheesy b-movie,
and her stomach was a cutaway, a dark and empty cavity of despair
was all that remained.
“Mankind is at its end.” Adam continued. “Your efforts are
futile.”
“We are not forsaken.” I muttered with detest, only to be
answered with their psychotic chuckles. “You’re not real! NONE
OF YOU!”
“Maybe not.” Ash spoke up. “Maybe we are just a figment of
your own delusion. But…” He paused to snicker. “They are.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond before the unmistakable ticks
and clucks of the Dark Ones broke me out of my hallucination, and
instantly, the four of them had vanished. My heart pounded painfully
in my chest as I stood up and peered out the window. I was
surrounded with nowhere to go, no way to escape, no hope for
rescue. My mind raced with useless options, and before I knew it,
my bladder expelled its content down my legs.
Two dark figures leaped upon the supports and swiftly
shimmied themselves up without a hint of strain, and my entire body
began to shiver with dread. My hand jittery, I pulled the pistol from
my belt and held it out, waiting for a Prowler to expose its brittle
skull for me. When it did, I yanked the trigger with impatience, only
to hear a lifeless click to follow. Repeating, over and over, click after
click. The clip was full, a round in the chamber, and the fifty caliber
hand cannon still had no life. A series of duds, an unfortunate
dilemma.
Misguided instinct took hold as another scaly and blackened
demon peered up over the rails, and I dashed towards the trapdoor.
Hastily I unlatched the lock and flung it open before dropping down
through. My hands loosely grasped the rails and like a fireman’s
pole I slid downward. With my mind racing, I failed to control my
descent, slamming to the ground with the loud crunch of my left
ankle reverberating through my ears.
Thankfully there was no pain, whether it was the adrenaline or
just a delayed reaction, I did not care. The Prowler’s erupted with
chatter and shrieks as my legs bolted away from the high-rise tomb
and down into the forest-covered mountainside. Although I felt as if
I was at a full sprint, I was obviously hobbling, reaching out for
branches to keep me afoot as the hunters continued in full pursuit.
Their shrieks raised the hair on my neck as the dark of night
concealed their ever approaching presence.
But Ididn’t stop, I charged forth, unsure of the direction or even
how I’d escape their fury. Before I knew it, my ankle regained its
strength, and I was leaping over logs and boulders with ease, and the
echoes of my pursuers began to fade as I gained ground. Slowly the
steep decline leveled off and I found myself within a valley oasis
filled with wild edibles and a cold trickling brook, all glowing with
a blue haze from the casts of the moon. I was alone, no sign of the
dead but just the echoes of the owls. In exhaustion I slumped down
against a rock to catch my breath.
“Now what?” Adam’s voice rung out.
“You can’t run forever.” Said the Owl as it fluttered down upon
a nearby branch.
“It’s time, Patrick,” Mia called out from across the brook, her
skin glowing in the moonlight, and her petite and perky breasts
almost took away the blight of her masticated body. “Let my son
thrive on his own – it’s time to join mankind on the other side.”
“So, he is alive.” I spat at them.
“Just let it happen, Patrick.” Ash whispered into my ear. “Let
them take you, it’s a better place.”
“NO!” I screamed and sprung back to me feet while swinging
my fist fast and hard at him, only to swipe through dry tempered air.
As I stumbled to regain my balance, a sharp and painful force
plowed into my back and I tumbled to the ground. My head cracking
off a rock as I rolled down into the brook and the cold mountain
water instantly sent shivers down my spine as it saturated me from
head to toe. At the edge of the embankment, a tall dark figure stood
breathing heavily as it gazed down at my hopeless form. Its head
cocked back and forth as it arched its back over me and its bony,
lanky arms hung aimlessly. Slowly I stretched my hands out,
reveling in the cool dampness, and surrendered my soul to the
demons.
“Wake up Man-Devil!” Abel cried.
My eyes snapped open to find Abel pouring cold water over my
face, and Steph standing with concern above me. As my head
cleared I realized I was still in the Fire-Tower and the sun was just
prying itself from the night. Quickly I sat up, coughing away the
water and wiping my eyes clear as I shook those ghastly visions
from my wayward head.
“You stupid man.” Abel jested. “Why you no drink?”
Slightly confused, I looked over at the bottle of water left
behind to find it still full and obviously piss warm. It was all a
delusion, visions of a parched mind, psychological nonsense. But
what if it wasn’t. Adam was once plagued with visions of those who
had passed, but what seemed like absurd dreams, turned out to be
fair warning from beyond. Maybe there is futility in my assignment,
maybe all is lost, and death is the answer.

After regaining my strength, and convincing Steph that I was
able to continue, we left the fire-tower behind and headed south,
towards Moose Back Mountain and at its base, Rangeley. The
thought of all the struggles man still faces, still creates, pained me
more than that grueling hike. The hope of survival is diminishing as
we venture onward, and mankind is thrown back into a chaotic and
treacherous war. The people of the GFS once relied on my optimistic
visions of the future, that of a new society where everyone worked
together to better the human race. Now we are being driven back
into old-world habits by distrust and greed, the very faults that have
condemned us over and over again.

We hadn’t been on the move for long before being
cut-off by
two Prowler’s, a duo of disease, spindly statures and sweating with
infection. They were more aggressive and had an unflustered stance,
defyingthe boy’s dominatingintimidationswith violent charges that
ended inches before the Abel’s feet and then followed by a sullen
retreat. Again much like that of a wolf pack or a pride of lions, they
were testing for weaknesses, yet ultimately tethered by uncertainty.
Wolves pitted against lions in a primitive duel.

“GO!” The boy shouted finally as he released a single arrow
from his bow,whichswiftlyimbeddedinto thealpha’s shoulder,and
with a horrific squeal they retreated into the dense alpines. But they
did not go far, as we continued onward, their vocalizations and
missteps echoing throughout the forest. On guard, I kept my pistol
in hand, ready to end their despicable existence.

We made good timing, mostly sticking to the valleys and rivers,
and we traveled over half our journey in just a few hours, decisively
making camp atop Snow Mountain at sunset. As the sun faded, and
Abel sparked up a fire, I watched intently as shadows of night
descended over Flagstaff Lake and the adjacent burnt out town of
Stratton. Both so small and foreign from such a distance, and before
long they faded into blackness. Although the Infected do not fear
fire, Prowler’s on the other hand succumb to their sentient state and
are petrified of its scorching flames. So we kept the fire bright and
hot. Thankfully though, we encountered no mindless fiends that
night, but the presence of the Dark Ones, as the boy refers to them,
lingered throughout.

“How will they get us?” The boy
questioned just as I was
drifting off to sleep.
“Who?” I asked.
“Your people, how will they get to us if they are so far away?”
“Helicopter most likely.”
“So I will get to fly? Like a bird?”
“Sort of. Have you ever seen one before?”
“Only pictures, in books. Is it scary?”
“It can be. They are very noisy and can shutter violently. But
seeing the world from so high up is breathtaking.”
“Is that how you got here?” He questioned further.
“It is.”
“Where is it? Why not take that one?”
“I’m not apilot, for one. And two, that helicopter was destroyed
when we crashed.”
“You crashed?” He asked feverishly.
“Shot down, by raiders.” I answered back. “My people are
aware of them now, and they are trained to handle it if they should
attack again.”
“I think I would rather walk it.” He suggested.
“It’s too far, and too dangerous.”
“For you maybe.” He said with a nervous humor.
“We have a long day tomorrow, you should rest.” I mentioned,
for which he ignored, and continued to poke and prod at the coals
with a stick. But he did not pursue the conversation any further, and
slowly I drifted back to sleep. Although my mind was sedated, and
random absurd imagery plagued my subconscious, I could hear Abel
humming. It was not of any song I recognized, but had a catchy tune,
and may possibly be something concocted in his own head. But soon
his hymn faded beneath a chorus of crickets, and my dreams ran
rampant and intensified.

Once again I was plagued with visions of the angelic Mia, but
no from lack of fluids, but just my own untethered and comatose
subconscious. As before, she was the epitome of beauty, yet bound
by the disfiguration of her own demise. However, she did not come
to me with disparaging words or the persuasion to give up and optout. Instead, she remained silent, pale and ghostly, shimmering in a
moonless night.

I rose from my dusty bed and looked down upon Abel and Steph
sleeping silently next to a cold-ash pit. Steph seemed so peaceful, as
did Abel, akin to that of an ordinary child, innocent and naïve. Not
the fierce and defiant hybrid of man and demon he generally
portrays during the waking hours. I couldn’t help but smile at them,
proud of their resolve, and envying their oblivious exposure. A herd
of Necrotic’s could easily waltz into the campsite and smother their
existence without realization.

But, my surreal vision turned back to Mia as she sauntered into
the dense forest, beckoning for me to follow. And I did. Slowly,
cautiously, and with complete admiration that this visage was her
for me an me alone. We walked awhile, through the dark canopy of
the mountain, and gradually the nauseating gore that smothered her
symmetry began to fade. Blood receded, and flesh regenerated, until
she was whole again. Gorgeous and full of life, and I stared in awe.
Not with carnal urges for her bare skin and lusty figure, but in
amazement of her utter perfection.

She noticed my gaze, and casually reached out to grasp my hand
as she pulled me along with her. Still silent, she stepped with
precision over sticks and sharp rocks, her bare feet still pristine aside
from the dirt stained soles. For a moment, I was unaware this was
still a dream, I could feel her skin in my hands, smooth and soft like
the flesh of a newborn baby. And as we continued further, my
admiration of her purity began to dissolve over the roar of crackling
flames.

Mia came to a halt, as did I, before the edge of a steep cliff. The
drop below seemed to stretch thousands of feet deep into the
blinding light of a forest valley. Then entire basin was aflame, trees
violently scorched, a fiery river roared through the land, and endless
bodies screamed in agony as the inferno blistered and charred their
flesh. There had to be hundreds of thousands of them, packed tightly
in the narrow gorge, but they were not of the living. They were the
burning remains of the Infected, and their wails of pain screeched
out over the mountains like banshees.

My eyes were stunned at the sight of them, unwavering as I
watch the disease consumed and trapped souls living their final
moments in agony. But Mia stepped out in front of me, blocking my
view as she reached up and place a hand on either side of my
distraught face. A queer and subtle smile crossed her silky lips and
slowly she leaned forward and pressed them against my own, so
soft, so palpable that I had completely forgotten about the holocaust
below. But the ghostly kiss did not last, the young beauty stepped
back, and one word escaped her lips like the ethereal cord of an
angel’s harp.

As my mind raced to comprehend her command, my eyes
caught sight that he feet hovered out beyond the cliff’s edge, and in
an instant she fell, her gorgeous figure quickly dousing the flames
below and fading into a darkly abyss. She was gone, and deep down
I knew that this cryptic delusion would be the last I would see of the
beloved Mia. But her countenance, her celestial semblance, would
forever remain within my mind, irrevocably burned.

Just before dawn I awoke, still exhausted and chilled to the
bone. The boy had never fallen asleep during the night, he stood
guard and kept the fire from dwindling dangerously low. Steph lay
beside me, snoring ever so sweetly with her fingers fiddling with my
hair. She hasn’t spoken yet of our intimate night, but every so often
I catch a glimpse of her staring at me, and then her cheeks flush with
red upon being caught. Abel has not notice, and he too courts her
with childish gestures, assisting her down from a ledge, or holding
her hand as we cross a brook. The guilt of leading him on plagues
us both, but we have no choice but to continue this ruse if he is to
return to Maribel with us.

Rising from the mountain floor, Abel swiftly threw some dried
pine branches and birch bark upon the fire, and in an instant they
had burst into flames. The fiery rage nearly blinding my light starved
eyes, causing them to squint tightly in pain until they had time to
adjust. But, an even brighter flash overshadowed the fires radiance,
and the morning gloom ignited into daylight, followed by a low
rumbling thunder that yanked the boy to his feet, and Steph from her
distant dreamland. Gazing off into the distance, towards the source,
the former town of Stratton which was now consumed by prophetic
fire. A large black cloud circled above it like the Devil’s halo, a
shadowy ring of fiery ash.

“What is it?” The boy asked.
“A bomb, I presume.” I answered, the only answer I had.
Was this what Mia spoke of from my dream, I couldn’t be too

sure, but her words last night came to me more like a suggestion,
rather than that of a premonition. My first assumption of the blast
was nuclear, but there was no tell-tale mushroom cloud, no pillar of
fallout above the once quaint town. The GFS, during its rise, had
determined Nuclear weapons were missing from abandoned
arsenals throughout the country, but no one had the means to
detonate one. This was, however, the blast of a man-made
contraption. Not quite as big as a nuke, but just as destructive. My
best guess was some form of thermobaric weapon, designed to
devastate and vaporize, but not irradiate. The bigger question was,
why?

Stratton had been abandoned early on in the initial outbreak,
and then later vastly consumed by fire. A little over a month ago I
walked its vacant streets, stumbling over the rubble of collapsed
houses, and overwhelmed by its eerie silence. There was no strategic
value, no threat to others, it was a ghost town that was barren of all
its ghosts. My only hunch was that some faction targeted it as a test
site, or more likely someone fucked-up and missed their real target.
It was, however, a sign that the civil disorder Mason had spoken of
was escalating and spreading rapidly. With that in mind, we packed
up our things and moved on, unwilling to wait for dawn’s
completion.

By mid-morning, as the heat of the rising sun bared down upon
us, we broke through the thick woodlands and set foot upon an old
logging road, barely reclaimed by Mother Nature. Although these
lasting imprints of man can be a never-ending and winding maze, I
decided to stick with it for as long as possible, giving my legs a little
break from the treacherous mountain landscapes. Occasionally we
came upon washed out rough-timber bridges and fallen trees, but
overall we covered a few miles with ease.

Abel was a lifesaver, we packed little supplies for our journey,
practically no food, but he has proven his resourcefulness. Although
he eats little, Abel is quite content in dining on insects and tadpoles
from the depleting pools collected within the stagnant ditches.
However he did find us a smorgasbord of wild fruit; blue-berries,
raspberries and even tiny strawberries as sweet as his late mother.
Steph and I took a moment to gorge ourselves before filling our
pockets and eventually continuing on. Ultimately I doubt I would
have survived such a trek on myown, I’m a geek, a lab-rat with little
experience in the art of roughing it, but with Abel by our sides we
are faring quite well.

“Do your hear that?” The boy said as we climbed a steep hill of
weathered and loose gravel.
“What?” Iquestioned, stoppingin mytracks to catch mybreath.
“It sounds like a fire. Cracks and pops.”
“I hear nothing.” I answered, the only sound was that of my
heavy panting and pounding heart.
The boy shrugged and eagerly continued his climb as I took one
last deep breath and followed. We reached the peak of the incline,
which thankfully descended rapidly before us, only to provide a
clear view of the endless road continuously wriggling through the
landscape like a dusty serpent. From our vantage point I could see
our current path eventually weaved around and stretched back north,
away from Rangeley which was just now barely visible off in the
distance.
Discouraged by the fact we would soon have to leave the
comfort of the roadway and back into the dense thicket, I became
even more uneasy at the menacing echoes that rung out in my ears.
The cracks and pops of what Abel described as fire was
unfortunately not the case. Ahead of us, in the vast stretches of this
sylvan land, was the unmistakable resonance of man’s greatest and
most appalling feats… War.
Steph snatched up my hand, she too realized what we were
about to venture into, and as she nervously clenched hold, her other
hand gently caressing the boys hair. He was our brawn, and I was
the brains, but Steph, she was the comfort we needed in this
uncomforting approach. Together we are stronger than any militia,
more far reaching than any army, and more determined than any
man before us. But we were not invincible, and we would need more
than just our own fortitude.
We rested awhile, listening as the firefights intensified, which
seemed to echo at us from the east towards the devastated town of
Stratton as well as west from the town of Rangeley, and everything
in-between. I highly doubted the bloodshed which ensued before us
was that of the Christian Alliance nor of the Islamic Coalition which
Mason had mentioned. What we were listening to was more likely
the greedy skirmishes of raiders. Small groups of well-armed
heathens fighting to reap the rewards of conquest. And yet, I find it
unlikely that a bunch of uneducated thugs could launch a weapon of
such devastating proportions like we saw this morning. There was
something more to this battle, another force quickly picking off the
weak one by one.
“What is it?” Abel eventually asked.
“That is the reason your father brought you back to this land.”
I answered. “That is the sound of Man’s corruption.”
“But why? Why fight each other and not the demons?”
“We were. There was a time, not so long ago, that we set aside
our differences and worked to overcome this land of the dead.” I
paused, then looked him in the eyes. “Now, they see the disease as
just another nuisance of life, they’ve become accustomed to it, in
away comfortable with it. And once man loses sight of the cause
which united them, they revert to older and more dangerous follies.”
“So why save them?” He asked sincerely.
“That’s a good question.” Ianswered. “Istill have faith, though,
that we can overcome such baneful pettiness.”
“There is still good in the world.” Steph piped in, “You just
have to find it.”
After resting awhile we headed off down the road, quietly
listening to the battle ahead of us, yet trying to pretend it wasn’t
there. How we would cross the front lines and reach our destination
was a mystery to me, and appeared ultimately futile. And the thought
of Ash’s men succumbing to this conflict drove needles into my
skin. But I did not voice my concerns, allowing hope to give the boy
fuel, hope that defying his father’s wishes and following a devilman was not in error. Unfortunately I had no reassurance to offer.
By late afternoon we reached the bend in the road that stretched
on back north, and I made the decision to set camp for the night
rather than blindly traversing the forest. As the sun settled down
behind the mountains, so didn’t the echoes of the pointless skirmish.
Night would bring a brief period of peace, and as throughout history,
the morning sun will escalate the deaths of the misguided. Knowing
we were not alone in this alpine realm, I decidedly chose not to light
a fire. There has been no sign of Prowler’s trailing us for quite some
time, their attention assumingly turned towards the bloodshed, and
I preferred not to draw the raider’s attention during the night.