Toward the Brink (Book 3) (8 page)

A better proposition would be to stop in one of the smaller towns before Rupert. A good defensive position could be set up, and if they encountered any foamers, it wouldn’t be too many. At least, that was the general consensus.

The Tall Man reckoned on ten hours of travel, and that was if they were unhindered. That would put their arrival in Prince Rupert at four p.m., and by then the sun would have started to set. The risk was too high. Better to stop sooner and spend a night where they felt safer. By the map, the town of Terrace looked better, and it was less than an hour from Prince Rupert. With so many in the group now, camping out for the night was out of the question. It would have to be Terrace.

The Tall Man—and the others—hoped for an uninterrupted journey.

The four vehicles crested a hill not far out of Prince George, but they didn’t stop to look behind them, though it would have afforded them a glimpse of the smoke from the fire. They were not interested—not where they were going; they were headed west, and the fire was behind them. Let it stay behind and burn all the foamers, burn ‘em all!

E
veryone looked forward
, figuratively and literally. After their narrow escape at the airport and the knowledge that Prince George was overrun with foamers, the future was all they had to look toward.

They had all looked toward the brink of mankind’s destruction. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Just as there was no time to waste in their preparations, there was even less time to dwell on the horrors, the losses, and the catastrophes.

If just one of the travelers in the bus had looked behind them as they lurched over the hill, they would have seen a car almost a mile behind them as it rounded the bend at the bottom of the rise. They would have seen that it was driven by a single occupant. They wouldn’t have known the identity of the driver, but it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure it out.

Richard Holmes.

T
he Tall Man
rode in the motor home and kept his eyes glued on the Hummer ahead while he silently cursed the loss of the walkie-talkies. They weren’t much more than kids’ toys, but they did have enough range for communication between the vehicles. Before they left, he’d told Elliot to keep an eye out for anything unusual and to stop the moment he saw something. If they did encounter any problems such as roads that had been blocked—accidentally or deliberately—they would need room to back out and turn the vehicles around, particularly the bus. It would be tight in some sections of the highway, no doubt, but if their lives were on the line …

“Still got the bus in view?” he called to Mulhaven, who sat behind the wheel of the motor home.

“Yep, she’s right where we need her to be.” Before they’d departed on their journey, the Tall Man was adamant that one hundred yards would be the maximum distance kept between the vehicles. He positioned the rear view mirrors so he could keep an eye on the bus, leaving Mulhaven to concentrate on his driving.

“You really don’t think we should try for Prince Rupert? Y’know, go straight through?”

“No, I don’t. We can make it, sure, but it would be dark, and we have no idea how many foamers might be present. I don’t know what the population is there,” the Tall Man explained before he turned to Kath. “Do you know?”

“I thinks it’s about twelve thousand, which isn’t all that big. It fluctuates with tourism, of course, but, well … not any longer.” Kath turned her head to look out the window, a tear drifted down her cheek. She’d left her house behind after all these years, and the reminder that tourism no longer existed, plus the barren roads, was too much. Especially after a moment when being human and
alive
was reinforced in the most meaningful way.

The Tall Man put his hand on the back of her neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

She knew he meant it was okay to cry, to have feelings, to show them, and most of all to never forget the world that once was.

“If half the town or even a quarter has turned, we don’t have the ammunition or the manpower to deal with them. It would be close to dark by the time we got there, maybe an hour or so to spare. We’d have to initiate a search and destroy for the foamers, and we couldn’t get them all before nightfall. So it’s best we stop after we get through, err… ”

“Terrace.”

“Thanks, Kath. Yes, we have to get through, and we have no time to spare. The population’s about the same, if I remember.” He looked over and received confirmation from Kath. “And we can’t afford to linger there either. We’ll have to secure a place for the night, and it will be best to move off the next day to avoid the foamers, grab a boat, and head to Graham. I know that sounds simple, but it’s my hope it will turn out that way.”

“It’s what we all hope, Chuck, believe me.” Kath reached out and took his arm.

Samantha sat to the back of the motor home but listened to every word. She was the quietest of all, but that was her nature. She wasn’t shy or in shock—no more than any of the others, in any case.

“What do you mean by ‘search and destroy’?” She didn’t understand what the Tall Man had referred to.

“Well, Sam, it’s like this.” He was careful with his choice of words. “The foamers come out at night, when they’re at their peak. In order for us to remove the danger, we would need to go house to house or store to store find where they’ve hidden themselves and dispatch them. Not unlike finding a vampire in his coffin during the day.”

“You mean kill them as they sleep?”

“Well, they’re already dead, Samantha.” The Tall Man sounded like a father concerned with his daughter’s low grades at school. “We’ll just make it more permanent, that’s all.”

The Tall Man, Kath, and Mulhaven all had the same thought—that she somehow felt sympathy for these red-eyed demons from hell. She was young, and she also didn’t have the first-hand experience with foamers most of the others did. But someone would have to set her straight. Before anyone could, however, Samantha let everyone know her position.

“We could do that. We could use the crossbows. Silent, deadly, and the bolts can be reused, save our ammunition. The fuckers wouldn’t know what hit them. No pun intended.” She smiled like the innocent teenager she once was.

The Tall Man didn’t say a word but gave Kath a surprised nod.

It was a sensible tactical move, and it would save their ammo. No one, and especially not he, had thought such a plan would come from Samantha.

T
he Tall Man
felt they had more than a chance for survival. Surrounded by such determined young people who showed an understanding of what it would take—even if it wasn’t pleasant—how could he not? The plan to seek refuge on Graham Island or, more specifically, Moresby Island, was a valid one. Whatever foamers existed there could be dealt with. He didn’t think foamers could get to the island, but packs of armed roamers could. And that did concern him.

“Hmph, roamers and foamers,” he chuckled.

“What did you say, Chuck?” James had heard the Tall Man mumble.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought it was a good day for travel. Sun’s out, no clouds or wind. We should make good time, and that’s what we want.”

“Daylight is our best ally, and we need to use it,” Mulhaven called from the driver’s seat of the motor home.

“According to the map, we should come to our first town, err, Vanderhoof, soon.”

The demeanor inside the motor home became somber. The fear of foamers had begun to affect them more than the foamers themselves; when they were surrounded by the bastards, they were too occupied staying alive to be scared. Well, at least they weren’t too scared.

Chuck stood and made his way to the front, next to Mulhaven. “Flash your lights until Elliot and Tristan acknowledge us, okay?”

The drivers ahead had been told to check their mirrors frequently for such a signal. It was part of their plan to stop before they entered or drove through (formerly) inhabited areas.

Elliot ahead in the Hummer stepped on the brakes once, twice, three times in quick succession. He had seen the flash of the headlights.

“Let Elliot find a spot along the road to stop, then pull up behind. Put your running lights on for David behind us.”

The Tall Man came back to explain to the others. “We’ll need to change some personnel around to get a bit more firepower in the front as well as the back. I hope we don’t need it, but it’s better to be safe.”

Puffs of dust burst from the rear of the Hummer and then the Ram 3500 as Elliot and Tristan pulled over to the side on a straight section of the Yellowhead Highway. Mulhaven eased behind and watched as David pulled the bus to a stop but left it, sensibly, on the asphalt.

The Tall Man bounded out the back of the motor home with the anticipation of action.

Kath knew there were more towns to go through between here and Prince Rupert. She was concerned about how they would manage if they have to go through this every time.

“We won’t have to worry about foamers,” Kath reminded herself as she gazed out the window. “Our hearts will give in long before then!”

A
s preparations were made
, the unofficial Security Council met at the side of the road. Elliot, the Tall Man, and Mulhaven represented the original Twin Falls Survival Group. Elliot was fond of the moniker, but it was no longer relevant. Kath was added for her survival knowledge and preparedness. As the former commander in chief of the country, it was only natural that Bob would be a part of the group. And where Bob went, so did his former chief of staff, Tom Transky, who was instrumental in the development many of President Elias R. Charles’s security policies. Chess and Tristan, from the group that had come in—and survived—with Holmes and Etheridge, also found themselves a symbolic seat at the table.

The Tall Man was still wary of Chess. If he wasn’t on the straight and narrow with them, then the Tall Man knew his kind and what they were capable of. Do and say all the right things, even go out of their way to win you over. Just when you think they’re not as bad as you thought—BAM! You find yourself face down in a ditch somewhere with most of your brains in a pulpy mess beside you. But he had to admit Chess knew his shit, was well trained, and had combat experience, and that was what they needed. He hadn’t done anything to warrant suspicion. If they could get to a safe haven, then they would need Chess and the other troops from the transport plane. The Tall Man would keep him close, as Sun Tzu recommended. If and when the time came, he would deal with Chess then. Chess had started out the wrong way, or perhaps the Tall Man had put up defensive barriers too soon. Either way, Chess seemed to understand that his future lay with the group, and that he would do best to work with them and not against. The Tall Man certainly hoped this was the case; he had to admit—albeit only to himself—that he’d started to like Chess.

Maybe I’m just getting old.

“What’s the population of this town?”

“Not sure, Chuck. Do you know, Kath?”

Straight through town without stopping; that was the plan. Knowledge the population level would give them a rough idea of what they might expect in terms of human resistance. There never was enough time to determine of the percentage of survivors versus foamers, but the Tall Man believed, based on what he’d witnessed, it was extremely low.

“The last time I checked, it was over four thousand. Has a wide main street, which will allow us access all the way through. Or should.” Kath, like the Tall Man, thought that abandoned cars could cause a problem.

“Missoula is a lot bigger than that, and there were very few left there, so a town of four thousand should be barren.”

“My thoughts as well, Riley.” The Tall Man ended the meeting. “Okay, Elliot, I’ll ride with you in the Hummer. Riley, stay close to us, and Chess, you ride in the bus with David, but don’t tell Allan you’ve replaced him as co-driver. Stay within fifty yards of Riley. Tristan, you stay right behind the bus, okay?”

Chess nodded and walked toward the bus, with Tristan right behind him headed for the Ram 3500. “You there, come with me,” the Tall Man called to one of the soldiers on guard by the bus. He wanted a man armed with an M4 up front in the Hummer.

“What’s your name, soldier?” The Tall Man only bothered with names when he needed to know them.

“I’m Johnny, sir,” the soldier said, a little too enthusiastically for the Tall Man.

“Chuck. Just call me fuckin’ Chuck. Now jump in.”

He continued to take soldiers from the C-17 and split them up; some here, some there. If Chess was a team player, he wouldn’t care—but if he wasn’t, this would weaken his support base, and this was how they would discover it. So far, Chess hadn’t questioned him.

Within thirty seconds of the last word spoken at the roadside conference, all were back in the vehicles, prepared to run the first gauntlet of the day. Elliot looked forward to a more settled existence on Graham Island, regardless of how cold it might get. He shared the same outlook as his aunt; he believed their nerves would give out before the foamers got them if this continued much longer.

Elliot drove the Hummer into the widened section of Yellowhead Highway as it entered the township. Riley was not far behind, with the bus and the Ram 3500 behind him. As they got into the town proper, their worries eased considerably. It was a ghost town. There were just a few cars on the empty street, the remains of several people, and a mangy few dogs. That was it.

“Keep going, Elliot, keep going!” the Tall Man urged, his relief evident.

As the four vehicles exited at one end of town, the sedan driven by Richard Holmes entered at the other.

“So that’s what their little meeting was about, eh? A discussion on how to proceed through the town?” Holmes speculated correctly. He was as concerned as they were, perhaps more so. He was by himself, and should he come to a town occupied by unfriendlies, he’d have little in the way of bargaining power.

I could always inform them of the island and the sanctuary it offers. As long as
we
have control of it
. “Hmm, that sounds like a plan.” He smiled when he realized he could still come up with a plan, even during the apocalypse.

It wasn’t exactly how Holmes had thought it would turn out. He’d wanted to be part of the Chamber and enjoy the fruits of domination in a world devoid of problems caused by overpopulation. He had wanted, and believed he deserved, some recognition. He may just get what he wanted, and it might be the big seat, too. The world was just a little smaller than the Chamber had originally intended—but he was alive, and that had to count for something.

As long as he was alive, there was a chance. That was how he looked at it.

He eased his foot off the gas pedal and watched the bus as it disappeared behind the small rise at the end of the main drag through town. The town itself offered no threat at all; not while the sun was out, at any rate. He was comfortable enough to idle along for a few minutes, alone with his thoughts and the empty stores on each side of him. He, like the Tall Man ahead of him, had expected more evidence of humanity, but apart from the few cars, cardboard boxes, and the odd body, there was little evidence to suggest the town had ever been lived in.

“They must have all escaped before—” He was unsure what to say next, as he had no idea of what they may have experienced. “Well … I guess, before.”

“
P
ull over
, Elliot, I need to check with Kath about when we’ll hit the next town,” the Tall Man told his younger companion after a few hours of uninterrupted travel along the heavily wooded highway, which offered a picturesque view of how beautiful the world had once been. They’d made good time, uninterrupted by traffic as they were. The previous town of Vanderhoof was a breeze—they weren’t slowed at all. The Tall Man knew they couldn’t expect that at every town they went through. It was his job to keep everyone on their toes.

“No need.” Elliot handed the map his aunt had given him to the Tall Man.