Toward the Brink (Book 3) (6 page)

The man in the Greyhound descended the steps almost casually. Now that he was certain he wasn’t about to be shot, he began to swagger.

“Keep a watch behind us,” Mulhaven said before he introduced himself. “I’m Mulhaven. Riley Mulhaven. And the man with the itchy finger is Chess.”

“Call me Sam,” the man said, though it sounded like
Sham
. “And you need to scratch your finger elsewhere, cowboy. I see you got yourself a vehicle. Good, that’s what we need.” Sam didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He headed straight to the Hummer.

Mulhaven and Chess were stunned. “Do you think he really speaks that way or has he seen too many Humphrey Bogart movies?” Chess asked.

Mulhaven raised a smile. He was impressed that Chess knew who Bogart was. “I’m not sure, but he’s a hoot, ain’t he?”

Sam was in his late forties, average height, with dark, wiry hair. He sported thick five-day growth on his face as well as a healthy midsection. He’d kept himself well fed. For the weather, his clothes were on the thin side, and that was probably why he had remained inside the bus—and to keep away from the foamers, Mulhaven reasoned.

“Err, Sam, any reason why you commented about having a good vehicle?”

Sam looked to his left, then to his right, then back at Mulhaven, one eyebrow creased upward, one down. He tilted his chin into his chest—head at an angle—hitched up his dark brown canvas pants, and walked back to Mulhaven. His gait was slow and steady, if somewhat awkward.

“We’ll go secure the exit route.” Johnny excused himself then motioned for the two other soldiers to follow. They left the congregation in front of the bus before they were overcome with laughter. Chess looked at Mulhaven like a young boy seeking permission from his dad to go along. None was given.

“You just mentioned the foamers, right? Is that not reason enough to get out of here? Or perhaps you and Itchy here want to wipe them out single-handedly?”

“Well, that’s why we came in search of a bus.”

“A bus? You don’t make any sense, soldier. Perhaps you should just
shhpit
it out.”

Mulhaven shut his eyes, counted to ten, and after a deep breath, informed Sam of the total number of people to transport, explaining why they’d come in search of larger transportation.

“Why haven’t you taken the bus out of here?” Chess asked the obvious.

“Because I don’t drive a bus.” Sam was short with his answer. “Besides, where the hell would I go?”

Chess didn’t have an answer.

“So you hid in this bus all through the night with all these foamers outside?”

“All right, let me tell you. You see that tower over yonder?” Sam pointed to the clock tower of the Prince George court building. Only after Mulhaven acknowledged that he saw it did Sam continue. “My daddy always told me to keep my eye on the tower, see. As long as I did, then I wasn’t far from home. See what I’m saying?”

Mulhaven gave an exuberant nod, his eyes full of interest. The reality was, he didn’t have a clue what Sam was saying, but it
was
the best live show he’d seen in years—and
free,
too!

“Now, the reason he told me to keep my eye on that tower was, if I should ever get lost in town, I should make my way to the tower. My daddy would come and find me.”

And we needed to know this because?

“Now, when people got sick and started to change before my eyes, I remembered the tower. If it was good for safety then, it was good enough now. So I made my way to the top and bolted the door. Those things can’t climb, or maybe they didn’t know I was there. Either way, I’ve survived so far. During the day I’d forage for food in the stores then hide out in the bus—catch some shuteye.”

Mulhaven told Sam he and the others were headed to an island off the coast where the foamers could be kept at bay. “You wanna join us?”

“Y’think I wanna stay here?”

It was a stupid question, Mulhaven admitted to himself.

“How’s the gas on this bus?”

“I have no idea, but there are diesel pumps at the rear of the depot building there.” Sam pointed.

“Let me check.” Chess jumped up the steps and into the bus.

“There ain’t no keys for it,” Sam called.

“That won’t matter,” Mulhaven answered, confident Chess could hot-wire it.

A minute or so later, the starter motor gave a screech as it resisted Chess’s attempts to kick the engine over. Chess wasn’t about to surrender and tried twice more.

“Well, ain’t that just swell?” Sam turned and smiled when the bus coughed to life. “Guess I might just get out of here alive after all.”

As Chess hollered from the driver’s seat that there was almost half a tank of gas, Mulhaven couldn’t help but consider what Sam had said. All of them, here and at Kath’s, were far from “out of here.” They still had to get out of Prince George, and then there were the dangers of the open road. Mulhaven didn’t know what to expect on this journey, but the cold ache in the pit of his stomach told him it wouldn’t be a joyous one. The island was their best bet for salvation—he could clearly see that—but he didn’t think everyone would make it.

H
olmes’s escape
took place while some were working outside and others were preparing meals or packing clothes. Holmes had manipulated the lock on the outside cellar doors, waited until the best time, and vanished without the others getting so much as a glimpse of him. Most surprising, or shocking, was the fate of Milton Etheridge. When his money had bought him everything he would ever need—and then some—Etheridge was a man in total control. In their bid to corner the world’s resources for themselves, he and his associates had opened a Pandora’s Box, created Frankenstein’s monster. Etheridge had believed, probably to the end that Holmes was his loyal servant. He was too old, too scared, and under the effects of too much scotch.

Holmes had no use for Etheridge or his promises. His money and power had vanished and meant less to Holmes than a box of jerky, a freeze dried bag of fruit, and a few gallons of drinkable water. Like the Tall Man, whom Holmes had once regarded as one of his loyal employees, he was aware this was the new currency, and people—those who were left—would kill for it. Without Etheridge’s riches, few would stand for his abrasive manner and even fewer would stick their necks out for him. Etheridge would slow Holmes down even if Holmes had wanted to take him—which he didn’t. Before Holmes had made the decision to attempt an escape, he decided to end Etheridge’s existence right there in the cellar. Holmes may have been the spymaster, the one who pulled the strings, but in his earlier days he got his hands just as dirty as any mob hit man. He never forgot how, either, but Etheridge didn’t offer much resistance. As the old man dozed, Holmes came from behind, wrapped one forearm around the front of Etheridge’s neck, and placed the other hand at the back of his head. He jerked Etheridge backward while pushing his head forward to crush his windpipe. He held on for two minutes, which was all that was needed to extinguish Etheridge’s life.

For one of the world’s richest and most powerful men, it wasn’t the end anyone would have expected: strangled in the cellar of an old farmhouse in Canada.

“He’s on foot, so he couldn’t have gone far.”

“I don’t care if the son of a bitch is just over those hills, we don’t have the time to waste on him. The others should be back soon, and we need to get some rest before our expedition,” the Tall Man replied to James as he looked at Milton Etheridge’s body.

“Oh my God!” Kath screamed when she came into the cellar.

“It’s okay, Kath, it’s okay. Nothing we can do now.” The Tall Man rushed over to comfort her. He gestured for James to take his sister back into the house as Elliot came in from outside.

“Yeah, there’s some scuffed footprints that lead from here straight to the tree line. I assume he then made his way to the road.”

“Did you check the motor home?”

“First thing. I locked it before, but I double checked. It’s still locked.”

The Tall Man’s concern was that Holmes would get hold of a weapon; he’d need some protection, and sooner rather than later. But in his urgency he probably hadn’t wanted to risk the time or the noise associated with breaking into the motor home.

“I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be on my own without a weapon when night comes.” The Tall Man sat Etheridge’s body against the wall.

Elliot stood and looked through the open door. Horrific images of the carnage at the airport filled his mind. “Yeah, I’d want a fuckin Minigun if I were on my own!”

“After what we saw last night, do you think you could hold enough ammo?”

Elliot acknowledged the Tall Man’s remark with a rise of his eyebrows and a nod. It would be impossible to carry that much ammunition.

“How did he…”

“Kill him?”

“Yeah.” Strange as it was, Elliot found it difficult to ask even after all the death and destruction he’d witnessed.

“Snapped his neck. Clean move, from behind,” the Tall Man explained in a clinical manner. “It’s a move that Holmes would be familiar with.”

A strange, almost disappointed look came to Elliot’s face, and the Tall Man stared questioningly at him.

“What’s wrong? What’s on your mind?”

“You know,” Elliot began, “it’s pointless now, when our real concern is survival, but I wanted to see if he knew why or how the damn foamers are still, well, y’know.”

“Yeah, moving.”

“Exactly! I wanted to know. If they’re dead, why or how this is possible? And if they’re not dead, how much longer are they expected to remain in this condition before they succumb to it—if they ever will?”

“Well, all I can tell you, Elliot, is that Holmes and his people probably didn’t know either. Their plan backfired, and—judging by the fact they fled as well—in a
big
way. Whatever pathogen they created must have mutated, or perhaps they weren’t fully cognizant of its potential. Who knows? I doubt we ever will. But let’s not put our energy into that. We’ve got some travel ahead of us, and that’s all we need to concern ourselves with.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Chuck. I just thought … well, yeah.” Elliot left it at that. Maybe later he could revisit the question, or even find an answer. But getting to a safe environment was, as the Tall Man had emphasized, the one and only priority right now.

They had the rest of the day and one night to get through before they could leave. Surely that wouldn’t be too difficult.

E
lliot
and the Tall Man stood in front of the porch ready to greet Mulhaven and crew on their return. They had heard the sound of vehicles from inside the cellar and quickly organized themselves. The armed soldiers who had stayed behind hid behind some trees or the motor home, and the Secret Service agents were just inside the house armed with AR-15s. They watched as the Hummer and, of greater interest, the bus came up the road.

Their arrival was expected, but the group at the house had no way of knowing whether armed looters had attacked Mulhaven and his team and forced them at gunpoint to drive back to Kath’s, or even if Holmes had gotten the jump on them. They weren’t sure until the Hummer passed the last of the pines that lined the driveway; once Mulhaven’s deadpan features were visible in the passenger seat next to Chess, they relaxed.

“I see you caught yourself a
Greyhound.
” The Tall Man was pleased with the results, but more pleased to see Mulhaven and crew back in one piece.

“Yep. We tried a few places but came up empty, until we found the Greyhound depot. Filled it with diesel, the Hummer with gas, and brought some extra back for the motor home.”

“That’s great news, Riley. Looks a real beaut, too!” Elliot also was relieved to see everyone return.

“If you think the bus is something special, just wait till you get a load of what came with it,” Chess announced when he got out of the Hummer.

“Oh, yeah, he’s a real doozy all right,” Mulhaven said through a broad grin.

The Tall Man and Elliot exchanged looks before they turned back to Mulhaven.

“For a moment there we thought we were in
The Maltese Falcon
,” added Chess, who was becoming a more interested individual by the moment. His ride with Mulhaven had convinced him he could plan a future with this group; he could see they were out to help one another. A new concept for him, but one he was growing to like.

Could Riley have said something that set him straight?
The Tall Man wondered.

“What are you talking about, and what the hell does the—”

“See for yourself.” Mulhaven stepped aside for the Tall Man as the bus doors hissed open. David came out first, followed by Sam.

“Great. Just what we need,
more
people.” The tall Man wiped his hand across his mouth before he waved to the soldiers behind the trees and the motor home that all was okay.

“You expected some trouble?” Chess asked.

“Can’t be too sure—not after last night.”

“I hear you on that.”

Damn, he even sounds like a different person. I need to have a chat with that wily old cop.

“Hi, I’m Elliot, and this is Chuck.” Elliot did the official greeting.

“Pleashed to meet ya, they call me Sham.” He stuck his hand out. While Elliot shook hands with the new arrival, the Tall Man gave Mulhaven a look of recognition.

“Glad we found you alive, Sam,” the Tall Man managed before he placed a hand over his mouth to conceal his smirk.

“I’m kinda glad of that too, Chuck.”

“David, why don’t you take Sam inside for a coffee? I’m sure he’d love one of our home brews.”

David Grigsby had just spent the drive from Prince George back to Kath’s with Sam up front next to him. David had never been a big Bogey fan, and he’d had enough of Sam’s company for one day. It wasn’t that Sam was all that bad; it was just that the whole Humphrey Bogart thing was a bit too much.

“Sure, Chuck, sure.” David pulled his woolen cap off and trudged into the house.

“That sounds s-s-swell. Believe I would enjoy a cup at that,” Sam said to the Tall Man, then followed David.

“Now do you understand the reference to
The Maltese Falcon
?”

“Yeah. Yes, I do. He’ll be a real hoot on the long drive to the coast.”

The Tall Man, Elliot, Mulhaven, and Chess all nodded as they thought of the long hours listening to Sam.

Maybe we should have left him for the foamers
.

That thought crossed the minds of a few, but as long as he didn’t say, “play it again …,” they could endure his Bogey affliction. Besides, they weren’t heartless killers like Holmes or Etheridge. They were ruthless when it came to foamers, mutants, or looters, yes, but not Humphrey Bogart sound-alikes.

A
fter a light meal
, the group gathered in the kitchen to decide on a sleep schedule. The designated drivers would be allocated the most sleep, followed by their backups. Regardless of how different Chess sounded and acted since his return from Prince George, the Tall Man didn’t want him to be on watch without Elliot, Mulhaven, or himself—just to be sure. He would have included President Bob, as he’d begun to think of him, and Tom Transky in his group of those he trusted, but if it became necessary to take decisive action, he doubted they would be able to perform. His two partners from Twin Falls had already proven their worth.

“Well, whoever is on the last watch can catch a few extra Zs in the motor home on the way.” Mulhaven tried to sound cheerful.

“All right. I think the ladies and the kids can stay up a bit longer,” Bob said. “It’s too early for them to go down now, and I don’t think they need to rise too early.” He was referring to his own wife and children—the only kids in the group
were
his, unless you included Allan, Samantha, Cindy, or Elliot. But Bob didn’t want to single his children out as if they were privileged. Once they had been, but now, like everyone else, they were just out to survive.

“Okay, I’m not sure of the sleeping arrangements, but the first group better sack out now. The others can load the vehicles, and quietly—we don’t want to disturb anyone. Rest is important to all of us. We’ve got a long journey ahead. We don’t know what awaits us on the road, but we need to be as well rested as possible to meet it.”

That was the Tall Man’s “fight ‘em on the beaches” speech. It wasn’t as long nor as emotive as Winston Churchill’s, but it did drive home the dangers that lay ahead and the Tall Man’s belief in everyone—if they pulled together as a team.

“Chess, I’d like you to pick five or six of your men for watch duty between oh-two-hundred and oh-six-hundred, okay?”

“Sure. Will it just be us on duty?”

“No, I’ll be there to keep you company in case you’re afraid of the dark.”

“Very funny!” Chess smiled. The Tall Man was surprised; he’d expected more of a retort after his barb.

“When should I take watch, Chuck?” Elliot asked the Tall Man while he zipped up his camouflage jacket as high as it would go around his neck. A large puff of mist exited his mouth as he spoke. There was a noticeable chill in the air.

“How about you grab six hours now and be ready for the second shift? You and your dad can do it together.”

“Sounds good. I like that, Chuck.” James Goodwin thanked the Tall Man.

The Tall Man had resolved to keep family members together as much as possible. Elliot and James, Bob and his wife and children, Tom and his wife. He also thought he would do his best to find some time for Elliot and Cindy to be alone, as well as Allan and Sam—he wondered if he should call her Samantha, now that there was another Sam with them. He’d also like to find some time for Kath and himself. That was a nice thought, but one that probably wouldn’t be realized until they were safe and sound on Graham Island.

There would be foamers on the island, of that he was sure, but the small population, the cold, and the lack of sustenance might mean they’d have died out before the group got there. That’s if Tom Transky’s theory held true. If not, they might be able to remove the foamers themselves.

As long as they could avoid any problems along the way.

“Yo, everybody out here!” Tristan Landers called from outside. He was on patrol as the group discussed travel plans.

“What is it?” The Tall Man had barely opened the door when he understood the nature of Tristan’s call.

“Can you smell that?”

He certainly could, as could everyone outside. Fire. General Stodge’s firebombing campaign had proven to be most effective as far as out-of-control forest fires went. Whether the fire was controlling the legions of foamers, as it was intended to do when it was first proposed in a meeting at the White House, was a question the Tall Man couldn’t answer. Every major population center within the fire’s boundaries had been devastated by the inferno, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume many foamers had perished. The Tall Man, Mulhaven, Elliot, and certainly Tom and Bob knew the foamers weren’t just active in the areas of the fire. The infestation had reached throughout the country. The proponent of the plan had long since met his end, while his legacy—the fire—continued to rage. The giant firestorm had spread across the northwest of the continent, the cold weather of the night the only hindrance to its progress.

“Smells close,
very
close.” Mulhaven looked around. The tall pines prevented any visibility of smoke. That was the good news. If no smoke could be seen with the naked eye, then the fire wasn’t close enough to force an evacuation.

“I think we’ll still have time to get some rest, but we’re on fire watch now, as well as zombie watch. Okay?”

Elliot snickered over the Tall Man’s “zombie watch” remark. He caught himself and looked in the direction of Prince George. Should that fire come from the opposite side, it might drive all the foamers … shit, it might drive the foamers right onto their position.

The lighthearted feeling drained from him in an instant.

It promised to be a long, long night.

T
he first group
scheduled to rest went into the spare rooms Kath had made into sleeping quarters. Her house contained two extra bedrooms but only a single bed in each. The study and the living room, plus the floors in the extra bedrooms, looked like they were ready for a teenage girl’s slumber party.

“Elliot.” Kath called her nephew over in a hushed voice. “Why don’t you and Cindy take my bedroom? I’ll take it with the second schedule.”

Elliot look at his aunt as if he’d been slapped. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

“But what about some of the others, like … like …”

“They’ve been married for many years.” She knew he referred the married couples among them, but she cut him off. “You and Cindy haven’t had much time to be alone, and you need it, Elliot. Trust me, you need it.”

When Elliot saw the smile and warmth in her eyes, a reflection of what was in her heart, he rushed forward and hugged her. “Thank you, Aunt Kath, thank you.”

He understood what she meant. After all they’d witnessed, the hardship, the constant doubts about their survival, they needed some tender time together. Kath recognized that need and had made provisions for it.

“Oh, Elliot?” she called before he wandered way. “There’s a double sleeping bag on top of my bed for you and Cindy, and a little
extra
on top. I hope you’ll understand.”

Elliot wasn’t sure about the “little extra on top,” but he appreciated Aunt Kath’s efforts.

Minutes later, Elliot and Cindy entered Kath’s bedroom and locked the door behind them. It wasn’t the typical woman’s bedroom, Elliot thought. But Aunt Kath wasn’t the usual woman, either. A large bookshelf dominated one wall, stacked top to bottom with books. The light grey carpet was well worn in places, and the drapes over the window were plain dark brown and didn’t match the walls—a soft green. A single recliner stood near the desk by the bookshelf, and a small bathroom was attached to the bedroom.

“So, this is your aunt’s ‘little extra,’ it appears.” Cindy picked up a packet of male contraceptives that had been placed neatly on top of the sleeping bag. “How thoughtful of her, but I wouldn’t necessarily say it was little.” She giggled. She had a chance to forget about the horrors for a while, and that was exactly what she planned to do.

“Shh, they’ll hear us,” Elliot whispered into her ear.

“Don’t be silly.” She continued to laugh.

“You asked for it!” He snatched her by the arm and pulled her to him. “This’ll keep you quiet.”

He kissed her gently but passionately, his arms wrapped around her waist. He felt her curves without the interference of the cumbersome army jacket. She no longer needed it; he would keep her warm now.

“So how do these things work again?” he asked playfully.

“Forgotten already, have you,
big
boy? Here, let me remind you.” She took the package from Elliot and removed a single foil packet from the box while he started to unbutton her jacket. For the moment, Elliot and Cindy would be able to forget the day to day horrors and enjoy their time together. It was a precious juncture in their lives, and confirmation of the importance of the relationship. The respite from the fire, the foamers, the mutant children, and his thoughts of what lay ahead would do Elliot no harm—no harm at all.

“
T
he fire looks
to be southeast of us but quite distant,” Chess told the Tall Man and Mulhaven the moment he jumped out of the Hummer. “Even with a strong wind behind it, I doubt it could get to us overnight.”

While Kath was making arrangements for Elliot and Cindy to be alone, the Tall Man, Mulhaven, and Bob had wanted a better picture of the approaching fire. The Tall Man was surprised when Chess had volunteered to take the Hummer up the rise toward Prince George to the spot just before the road intersected with Highway 97, the best vantage point close to their position. The Tall Man had been hesitant to let Chess go at first, but was reassured when Chess had no objections to Mulhaven and David tagging along.

“That’s good to know, but we can’t let our guard down. Fire is a complication we don’t want to fuck with.”

“I agree with you, Chuck, I do,” Chess said. “I also think the cooler weather will keep it at bay.”

“Not so sure on that.” Mulhaven looked around him at the tree tops, then the sky. “We might feel the chill here, but where the fire is, you can be sure the temperature has changed dramatically. The ambient heat would dry out the trees and the undergrowth. The fire may not move as fast as it did, but it’ll still move. With no active measures taken against it, this fire will only stop when it rains—or when there’s nothing left to burn.”