The Survivors: Book One (41 page)

“Hand over that shotgun and you can talk to the Boss.”

Chris did, with little hesitation and motioned for the others to do the same. “Give ‘em up, boys.”

The other three were less trusting, and without their guns, they all looked scared and desperate. Heavy beards and thin bodies said they were, and Adrian greeted them with friendly, compassionate tones, handshakes hiding his disappointment. Only sheep in this batch, no shepherds.

“I’m Adrian. Welcome to Safe Haven. You come in peace?”

All the thinly-jacketed men nodded, but Chris was clearly in charge and they let him speak. “You bet your ass. Peace and hope.”

Adrian grinned, aware of Seth’s disappointed face as he waited by the front doors with the others who weren’t Eagles. Whoever the undercover cop was looking for, he already sensed they weren’t with these people.

“Then you’re welcome here. What do you need?”

Relief fell over the man’s face, and he let out a sigh, “Help, son. We need help.”

“We need food! They’re starving!” Paul blurted.

The other three men turned to stare disapprovingly at Paul’s red face, before turning back to Adrian.

“I’ll beg if I have to. We’re dying,” pleaded Chris, shame in his tired brown eyes.

Adrian shook his head, words full of conviction, “Not another one of you if I can help it. We offer you sanctuary so long as you follow the rules. Be sure, though. We consider ourselves a Red Cross convoy and we gather survivors while we search for safety. Travel four days out of seven, sometimes more.”

All of them nodded again, eyes relaxing a little at his words, and while Adrian was glad to see they weren’t a problem, he knew he wouldn’t be finding any of his own in this group. They were clearly in need and he would help them, but damn it, where was
his
help?

Neil leaned close, whispered, and the four townspeople moved back nervously as Adrian turned to them with scowling eyes. “Who’s in the truck?”

Their faces fell at the accusing tone, and Chris hurried to explain. “Our families. We couldn't leave them while we came to talk to you. It’s not safe here.”

“Or anywhere else. You should have mentioned them already.”

Adrian gave Neil a look that said to watch them, and moved to the rear of the long vehicle before the man could defend himself. All four of the locals followed at a distance, very aware of guards who had yet to reholster their weapons.

“Eagles. What is part B of lesson three?”

There was silence, and then Kyle’s dismayed voice. “Never assume cargo area is empty. Approach and handle as if it is full of the enemy.” They hadn’t secured the entire threat.

“No harm this time, and while you’ve done okay, this won’t be considered a success. Open these doors.”

Knowing they’d all just lost Level Three status, Kyle smothered his own disappointment to unlock the heavy door and shoved it upward. He took a quick look, nodding calmly, and then moved back to allow Adrian inside.

The reek of unwashed bodies hit them hard, but the slicked-back hair and messy braids told Adrian they’d at least attempted to make themselves presentable. He looked hard at their worried and hopeful eyes, seeing hunger, but not starvation; need, but not the desperation the four men had alluded to. Why the lie? Protection from the gangs? He could provide a little of that.

“Eagles, these are our newest camp members. We’re going to feed them, give them medical care, and protect them. In return, they’re going to follow our rules and help each other survive.”

The women and children - there were only two, but Adrian was glad to have them anyway - were huddled on blankets on the truck’s dirty floor, the elderly sitting in chairs with pillows and blankets. The oldest among them, her long, white hair almost silver, raised a thin, arthritic arm. “Will ya help an old woman up, young man?”

Adrian and Kyle moved at the same time, gentle with her, Seth on the footrails to assist. “Yes Ma’am, and so will any of us. Eagles, assembly line and someone find out how long before the food’s ready. Welcome to Safe Haven. May it become your home.”

When the truck was empty, Adrian went to Chris, who was still waiting by the tailgate.

“You lose your men and boys to the Draft?”

The man nodded, dropping his eyes to the left. “Half our females too.”

Adrian frowned. What else was he lying about?

“Thank you for taking us in. I’ll make sure they behave.”

“No, you won’t. That’s
my
job now.”

Chris gave in quickly, meeting his eyes with relief, “And thank you for that too. I thought I wanted to be in charge, but I’m not enough, and I give it up with a grateful heart.”

Chris on his heels, Adrian moved toward the fullest tent, glad the doctor wasn’t being overwhelmed, and when Kenn appeared at his side, Adrian said nothing about his tardiness.

“We now have 28 new camp members. This is Chris. This is Kenn, my second in command. There’s little he can’t handle, so if you need something, he’s the one to talk to. We’ll need names, ages and occupations, and they’ll need the medications John prescribes, lists of rules, clothing, and sleeping gear for tonight. Chris will go with you to get them settled. They’ll also need porto-cans and some kids to run errands for them - your boy too, if you’re all right with it.”

Adrian paused to let him catch up and took in the messy hair, the corner of his shirt untucked. If Kenn found a woman here, all the better. “We’ll work out tent arrangements first. Double the watch again and tell everyone inside to go back to what they were doing. Lights out at 1 a.m.”

11

The tired leader was back in the office hours later, writing in his journal, and looked up at yet another creak of footsteps outside the open door - where over a hundred of his sheep were resting, finally calm enough to sleep.

“You busy?”

“Nope. What’s up?”

Charlie hesitated, took a step inside, but only after looking up and down the dim hall first. “I heard something while I was shoveling…about the new people.”

The question was there and Adrian nodded. “Tell me.”

“It wasn’t the Draft. They left to find help.”

Adrian’s sharp mind added up the clues. “They tried to stop them? Made them run?”

Charlie's voice was low. “Some of them escaped, and died. They chained them.”

Angry, Adrian asked before he knew he was going to. “Should they be allowed to stay?” Once it was out, he didn’t pull it back, waiting for this curious child’s decision.

Charlie shrugged, aware that it had become his choice, but not why or how. “They’re sorry. They hope some of them might come back, left them notes about us.”

Adrian considered. Sometimes guilt would make changes where little else could, and sometimes your instinct was all you had. The boy thought they should be allowed to stay, would feel guilty if his words got them thrown out. “It’s not always wrong now, death. Your mom might tell you that, I think.”

Adrian was taking a big guess and knew he was right by the silence. If it were anything else, he would have denied wanting his mother.

Charlie hesitated, lonely and wanting to trust, but his fear of Kenn was as big as his mother's and it made him turn away without saying any of the things he wanted to, without offering a ...special, kind of help.

Kenn was busy getting the new people settled and his mood was good despite missing his rendezvous with Tonya. He had plenty of help without having to ask and the Marine was confident his place here was sealed. Right-hand man belonged to him now, had all along according to Adrian, but the camp’s approval could make or break you, and now he had it.

Adrian’s other men, those who had been here longer (and still wanted what was no longer available) tried not to be bitter or hateful, accepting that Adrian saw something in the Marine that they did not, something they themselves were lacking. Their desire for Adrian’s approval and recognition would make them uneasy and awkward with Kenn at times, but only Neil had spoken against it and not openly. Adrian had made his choice, and now Kenn could openly give what the job demanded - everything.

Chapter Twenty One

February 25
^th
, 2013

Pitcairn Island

1

Kendle’s exile in the wilderness lasted for 60 days and 60 nights, and then, as suddenly as her nightmare had begun, it was over. The small, weathered speedboat washed up on a sandy shore while she slept, and it was the painful twisting and cramping of her stomach that woke her.

The adventurist crawled clumsily to the side of the boat with her eyes still closed and retched until her belly was empty and her throat burned. She didn’t notice the lack of motion that was causing her misery and dipped her hand to splash her face, crying a little at the abrupt beginning to her day. Instead of debris-filled waves, there was only the warm wetness of her vomit and the hard grit beneath it.

Caw! Caw!

Kendle’s eyes flew open. Trees, thick and green, waving over a vast, sandy beach, greeted her.

Birds called curiously above her head, flew into the thick palm trees with annoyed chirps, and she blinked, smelling fragrant flowers and earth. Her eyes went to steep, green and orange cliffs, and hills of waving trees. Land?

Kendle stood up in a quick, jerky movement and her stomach twisted again, knocking her off her feet and out of the boat. Her hands and legs flailed, tried to keep herself afloat, and she hit the sand with a hard thud that knocked out the instinctive breath she’d sucked in. She lay on the warm, dry beach, coughing and crying as she cradled her aching stomach. Land!
She was on land!

Kendle forced her shaking knees together and stood on dirt for the first time in eight weeks, her muscles protesting as they struggled to hold her up. Her entire body felt weak, wrong, and she swiped distractedly at tears. She hadn’t thought she would ever feel safe again, and her eyes repeatedly returned to the bright green treetops. She was on land! She could survive here.

The model-turned-actress forced her new legs to carry her into the hated floating coffin for her meager supplies, swearing it would be a long time before she got back into one. She’d been afraid to fly before, but what was a quick, fiery plane crash compared to the hell she had lived through?

It took Kendle a while to gather her things and she cringed each time the rough surf caressed the battered boat, terrified the waves would pull her back out. She picked the middle of three paths into the dense jungle, and dragging the pillowcase behind her, began to walk, heart lighter than it had been since losing her sister. Her tender feet protested the cool, sharp, forest floor and the pain sent joy rushing through her. She knew how to survive in this world. She was safe!

2

Luke Johnson gently set his pole into the small holder he’d dug in the lush paddle grass, absently watching his line twitch as a fish toyed with his bait. He leaned back, clear eyes full of worry, as bees and other fat insects buzzed around the beach and moved on, drawn to the waves rushing ashore with more garbage.

The monthly supply plane hadn’t come since December, and they hadn’t been able to raise anyone on any of the CB’s or satellite phones. And now, Frank hadn’t shown up for their annual week together. The two men had forged a strong bond in the jungles of Vietnam and the retired pilots, who’d both been shot down and lived through 18 months in the same POW camp, never missed their week together. Not once in 30 years.

The retired soldier stood up to stretch, wishing he had one of those internet hookups all the tourists had been attached to last summer. It was just a little black case that opened up like a Battleship game. Sometimes technology was great, but out here, it was nearly nonexistent.

This island was about as cut off from civilization as anyone could get. The whole island had only one bay for ships, the rugged cliffs foreboding, and there wasn’t a single telephone line. The lack of communication to the outside world was frustrating sometimes, the island taking back as much as it gave, but for the most part, it was why people came here and stayed. “It makes us uneasy though.”

Luke thought of the silent Coast Guard, who they could normally hear even during storms, and then the ocean itself. Not one cruise liner in the distance and he’d know, he was on the ‘traffic’ side of the beach most of every day - fishing, reading, swimming…forgetting. There was nothing but static and debris. Pitcairn Island seemed to have been completely forgotten.

It wasn’t a crisis here. The 61 people calling this tropical paradise home had learned to pull their needs gently from the land around them, but it was causing unrest and lowly-spoken conversations in town. What had happened to their old lives? Blown away? Luke nodded, almost sure. He’d spent time in a war zone and knew the signs. No contact, strange sunsets, rough storms despite it not being the season, and of course, all the debris.

The water levels had risen, bringing in load after load of garbage until they’ had to expand the town dump. Even now, Bounty Bay was alive with crawling crabs, booby birds, and broad-winged albatrosses that were pillaging the trash.
The explosions that had left behind this much wreckage had surely cost lives,
he thought, packing up his gear. What the hell had happened? Had America gone to war and lost?