Toward the Brink (Book 3) (7 page)

“Let’s hope it burns all the foamers and those other
things,
then.”

Chess waited for an explanation of what “those other things” might be, but when none came, he took it upon himself to find out.

“What are these ‘other things” you mention?” He immediately noticed the tension in the exchange of looks between the Tall Man and Mulhaven.

“If you haven’t encountered them, it’s hard to describe their appearance in a way that you’d believe. For now, all you need to know is they’re worse than the foamers—much worse!” Mulhaven informed him.

Chess was intrigued. What could possibly be worse than the foamers? He didn’t press the issue. If neither of these men wanted to say, then they probably had good reasons.

Maybe you don’t trust me enough now, but you will, you will.

Chess understood what it was like to be outside of the group, the clique. He was Special Forces, for Christ’s sakes, and any soldier who wasn’t, wasn’t trusted. It was that simple. Mulhaven was the one who had set him straight, though he may not be aware of it. Chess would let him know when the time came.

“Chess, why don’t you put all the vehicles into this clearing and have them face the exit, just in case we need to make a quick dash.”

“Good idea, Chuck. Right on it.” Chess noted how the Tall Man used a few British phrases. Considering the way he conducted himself and his tactical knowledge, Chess supposed he had British military experience.

“What did you say to him while you were gone, Riley?” the Tall Man asked when Chess was out of earshot.

“Not a great deal. I just think he understands this isn’t the army anymore, and none of us are about to tolerate any macho war hero bullshit. You should cut him some slack. He’s just witnessed the country collapse, and came under attack by an army of foamers for the first time, which wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Sure, I can do that.”
But I’ll keep my eyes on him all the same, after the run-ins we’ve had with ex-military
. “Glad to, Riley.”

“And I think our new friend Sam brought some humor out of him.”

“Yeah, that guy is in a class of his own, isn’t he?”

The two shared a quick laugh before Mulhaven went to move the motor home while the Tall Man did the same with the bus. The motor home would be used as a guard house for everyone on duty. It had a couple of beds to sack out on, and water could be boiled for coffee or tea—or Mulhaven’s favorite noodles. Regular patrols in pairs would be conducted from now until it was time for them to leave.

I
nside the house
, Kath, Samantha, and Margaret occupied themselves gathering items usually not found at the top of most survival lists: needles and thread, plastic bags, extra bandages, staples and a staple gun, a roll of wire, a tool kit, pain killers, bars of soap, and personal hygiene items. The more obvious items such as water purification tablets, can openers, freeze dried vegetables and fruits, plus a few boxes of canned foods were already stored on board the vehicles. They had more of the dried vegetables than the canned goods; with so many now in the group, the Tall Man was concerned about weight.

Kath had planned well ahead for her survival. She had always believed the threat would come in the form of nuclear fallout after a missile exchange between the United States and Russia, or perhaps China. Like most, she hadn’t thought the Armageddon she prepared for would be an infestation of undead zombies created by greedy individuals who didn’t know what the word
enough
meant.

Kath had an assortment of hand tools that would be useful. If they could just hold out through the long winter on Graham Island, they could send teams back to the mainland to forage for supplies. By that time, there shouldn’t be anyone around—alive or undead—to bother them.
Shouldn’t
was the key word.

J
ust before the
darkness engulfed Prince George and as Elliot and Cindy prepared to spend some time together, a lone figure staggered down Austin Road West, two miles north of the center of Prince George. Richard Holmes was tired, cold, and hungry, but his main concern was to find shelter before night enveloped the streets and the foamers left their daytime refuge in search of living tissue to feast upon. He had seen the undead up close at the airport less than twenty-four hours earlier, and he was aware from surveillance footage and his own investigations that the foamers ventured out after dark.

“There has to be someplace safe around here,” Holmes said.

He had just moved from concerned to frantic when he spotted the Christ Our Savior Church just ahead on Austin Road. The church brought back memories of the movie
The
War of the Worlds
, the original with Gene Barry, where he searches for fellow scientist and romantic interest Sylvia Van Buren and finds her in a church. She tells Gene (the astronomer in the movie) that as a youngster, she had been instructed to always go to a church when she was in trouble, because that was where she would
always
be safe. Holmes wasn’t sure of the logic of following a line from a sixty-year-old movie, but there were no other structures that looked solid enough to keep the foamers out. He had to hope there weren’t any already inside, just waiting for darkness to fall; he had to take the chance. He wished he had taken a gun from the motor home before he ran off, but the possibility that he might alert the others to his presence had prevented him. He had never been in such a vulnerable position.

There’ll be more than a few unused weapons left at the airport.

“Weapons and bodies!” he said.

He found a length of wood on the ground—an old fence post—grabbed it, and wielded it in both hands like a baseball bat. He doubted it would do him any good if he were attacked by more than two foamers at once, but it was something.

The arched doors to the church were closed but not locked. He thought this was promising—he doubted foamers would bother closing doors behind them. Inside, as far as he could see, the church was empty. He checked along the pews and saw no sign of anyone—living or dead. He didn’t bother looking further and headed straight for the door to the bell tower.

“I doubt these dead fucks know how to climb.” He shut the door behind him and started up the stairs. He would be cold in the room below the bell itself, but he’d be safe from foamers.

Tomorrow he would gather some supplies, get a vehicle, head to the airport for a weapon or two, and then follow the others to the west coast, all the way to that island he’d heard them mention.

“If they think they’ve seen the last of me, well …”

A
fter a coffee
and a quick meal of SPAM and eggs, Elliot ventured outside to tell the others that change of guard had arrived. Night had fallen, though he was surprised to see some stars in the sky.

“Hey Chuck, wait up!”

“You look refreshed. You get a good sleep?”

“You might say that.” Elliot had a devious look in his eye that was hidden in the night. “I see there are a few stars out tonight.”

“We had a bit of wind from the north. Kept the smoke at bay, I guess.”

“You’ve got time for a full six yourself if you hurry.”

Elliot sounded more like the Tall Man every day, James Goodwin noted as he caught up to his son. That wasn’t such a bad thing; there were worse to model yourself after.

“Yeah, you, Riley, and the others need to get your heads down now. You won’t be any good to us half asleep, Chuck—you of all people know that.”

“You’re right, Jim. I’ll gather the rest and head in. There might be a couple in the motor home, so send them into the house, okay?” The Tall Man, Riley, Chess, Tristan, some of the other soldiers who had come in with the transport, and two of the Secret Service agents gathered out in front of the porch.

“So far so good. No fire, and more importantly, no foamers. Let’s get some rest and hope it stays that way. Elliot?” the Tall Man called. “Keep all flashlights to a bare minimum and shielded, okay?”

“You got it. Now go get some sleep or I’ll get my dad onto you!”

“Aye aye, sir!”

Elliot laughed when the Tall Man jumped to attention and saluted. He watched the group go inside. All these people, all of them, were nice, friendly, happy people.

Why is it you meet the best people at such tragic times?
Elliot thought. He had no answer.

“Because that’s what brings the best out in us, young man.”

“What? How did you—” Elliot spun around on his heels to see Sam behind him.

“It’s a skill, or so I’ve been told. But that’s the truth. Now, your aunt gave me this here scattergun to patrol with. Anywhere special you want me to be?”

“Err, no. Just go to the motor home and pair up with someone. Why did you ask me, anyway?”

“Your aunt told me you were in charge here.”

Elliot looked back at the house while he considered this. Just who was really in charge here? If it was his aunt, as he’d begun to suspect, then he wouldn’t mind a bit—not one bit.

I
nside
, Kath worked some magic. She did her best to give the married couples their privacy while keeping the single men and women separate so that no one would be put into an embarrassing or awkward situation. The possibility of stumbling upon someone in various stages of undress was all too real in a house full of people. She did, however, take some liberties. Her bedroom was hers, end of the world or not, and she would decide who slept there. Kath had been determined to get Elliot and Cindy some time alone; she knew this was the right decision, and the smile on Cindy’s face was confirmation. Now it was her turn to enjoy some time alone—just her and the Tall Man. The end of the world was upon them, they faced the horrors of the foamers, and there might not be another day left for any of them. She was determined to make their time mean something.

“Your quarters await you, sire.”

“Hmm? What did you say?” The Tall Man looked at Kath, unsure of her meaning.

She took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. There wasn’t time for a discussion, and she wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

“Wow, is this for—” The Tall Man stared at the candlelit room and, of course, the single rose that lay on the double bed.

“Well, who else, silly!” Kath shut the door behind them, locked it, and placed the Tall Man’s arms around her. He had no intention of protesting her advances; not this time. He held her close to him as their lips met. Her flowing hair, perfume, and warm body guaranteed his mind was free from distractions. The Tall Man was grateful. He needed her as she did him, and he needed a release from the tension of the catastrophic events he’d faced day after day, plus the extra demands of watching over the others. Mulhaven helped him, as did Elliot and his father, but they all relied on his better judgment and experience, and it had taken its toll. Kath knew it, and the Tall Man knew it.

“I wish we’d met a long time ago,” he whispered.

“Shh, just be glad we have, and enjoy all the days we have left together.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I am very, very glad!”

He lifted her up with one arm under her buttocks, carried to the bed, laid her down gently, and then slid in by her side. The soft candlelight made for an arousing atmosphere.

It would be another long night for the Tall Man, but he wouldn’t mind this time; not at all.

T
hose on patrol
duty outside noticed a new spring in the Tall Man’s step as he exited Kath’s house shortly before two a.m. He headed straight for the motor home, which was serving as a guard house for the men on perimeter watch. The chance to spend some tender moments with a special woman had reinvigorated him despite the less than a full six hours sleep. It also reinforced his determination to get everyone to the safety of Graham Island. No longer was his desire for survival based solely on avoiding being torn apart by foamers; he now had a more positive reason to endure the severe conditions. Love. The love that he and Kath felt, as well as the love between Elliot and Cindy, Bob and Kamira Charles, Tom and Janet Transky. Yes, the love and genuine caring for one another this group had demonstrated time and time again. It was the strongest known binding material in the universe, and it was worth fighting for.

He knew that deep down it was what made him do what he did. He made no excuses for the fact he had killed many men and quite a few women in his time. But he did it for the right reasons; he firmly believed that. A man of strong principles, he would never compromise them—not intentionally. Never had he willingly associated himself with anyone motivated by greed or lust for absolute power. When things didn’t feel right under the employment of Richard Holmes, he’d followed Holmes until he gathered enough information to realize Holmes was not a man to be trusted. The Tall Man had been proven correct in his assessment of the man known for his nefarious activities. What the Tall Man stood for—in the end—was what the people he’d eliminated stood against, and that was reason enough to remove them.

But that was then, and he’d mellowed—or thought he had—until he came across the likes of Baer, Langley, and Holmes. The world would be a better place without them and people like them. And in his position at Baer Industries, he’d come to know that there were quite a few people like them in the world—quite a few.

He wore a thick, hooded camouflage jacket and gloves, and he wore long johns under his thick jeans. He carried a hot cup of coffee with him. He’d only gotten about three hours sleep at best out of his allotted six, but he had no complaints. Chess followed a minute or so later with some of the other soldiers who had accompanied him in the transport.

“How’s it going, Elliot? I take it there’s been no drama so far?” The Tall Man raised his head as he attempted to check on the smoke.

“No drama at all—at least not out here.”

The Tall Man was about to answer that quip when Chess approached from behind.

“The fire seems to have held off. Maybe we could ease up some, let the others get a bit more rest.”

“I think we could at that, Chess. But take turns in the motor home while we’re on the move. We can’t relax any, not in our attitudes or our preparedness, not where these things are concerned.”

“Yeah, I understand you, Chuck, you know I do … but we got less than four hours before the sun rises, and we haven’t been bothered so far. And the fire—”

“The fire could be like the foamers. One minute nothing, the next…”

“Well … we have just about all the trained people on duty now, Chuck, just as you wanted it before dawn,” Chess reminded him.

“In the old movies, attacks always happen just before dawn—but what the hell does Hollywood know?” The Tall Man winked.

Chess and Elliot laughed, especially Elliot; he could see his big buddy’s new lease on life, and he was glad for it.

“Anyway, the smoke, or at least the smell of it, has died down, as you can tell.” Elliot was well aware of the devastation caused by the fire, coming from Idaho as he did.

“There doesn’t seem to be any glow that would be associated with a fire in close proximity,” Chess added.

No smoke or orange glow could be seen against the night sky from Kath’s farm. The outline of hills before Prince George prevented any clear view. That no reflection of flames could be seen was a good sign, but it didn’t mean the fire danger had vanished.

F
rom inside his small fortification
, Richard Holmes endured a harrowing night. Like crowds of shoppers on the day before Christmas, foamers roamed the streets below him, searching, always searching. Sleep was out of the question. His vantage point did allow for an unfettered view of the fire in the distance. A cool wind had come in from the opposite direction earlier in the night and kept the fire from racing across the mountain range that lay between it and Prince George. By the early hours of the next day, however, Holmes felt the breeze change. It blew straight back toward the town.

He waited for sunrise. It would be his moment to act. A car, gas, food, weapons, and ammo from the airport, and then out of here. The fire was perhaps another two days away, less if a big wind picked up, but he didn’t want to spend another night in town as undead foamers walked the streets below.

“Purification by fire. It might work after all.” He sounded hopeful for the first time in more than a few days. The first rays of light could be seen in the east. A new day dawned, and perhaps a new beginning.

T
he engines
of all of the vehicles started at once. The luggage compartment of the bus proved a bonus and freed up more room in the motor home.

“So long old home, so—” Kath stood by the bus and gave her home one last goodbye. She’d planned to be strong, but the tears rolled down her cheeks; plans don’t always work out.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the Tall Man said as Kath buried her head in his chest and sobbed. He ushered her into the bus. Once they were under way, she’d feel better.

Elliot led off in the Hummer, Tristan was next in the Ram 3500, Mulhaven was behind him in the motor home, and David, with a very alert Allan for support, brought up the rear in the bus. As the crow flies, it was an eight and a half hour drive to Prince Rupert. That was if you maintained the speed limit. Such an estimation didn’t take into account the current state of the world. The four vehicles had to keep each other in sight without bunching up; if the Hummer in front got into trouble or had an accident, the other three didn’t need to follow.

The road conditions were unknown. More than likely, the highway would be littered with abandoned vehicles just as they’d experienced since they’d fled Twin Falls. Of most concern were possible encounters with more looters or rogue military groups. They had no fear of foamers, not during daylight, but it would depend on how many miles they covered whether they’d have to stop overnight before they got to Prince Rupert. It wouldn’t be the best choice to arrive with an hour before nightfall and hope to clean out the foamers so they could get a good night’s sleep.