The Dead Years (Volume 8) Page 2

  Bent over, her head in her hands and throbbing worse than ever, April fought her husband. As he pulled her toward the building and away from the chaos, she dug her heels into the soft dirt. Her mother, wide eyed and unable to speak, moved around and assisted Mason. The trio stayed behind Randy as he eliminated the last few Feeders on their way to the door.

  “NO, IT’S OVER, LET ME GO!” April said. The white noise began and her vision narrowed as tears ran down her bloodstained face. April went limp.

  Stepping in and scooping her up, Mason slung his wife over his left shoulder and motioned for Eleanor to follow. Still clutching the pistol in his right hand, he peered through the back door and noticed a straight shot to the Command Center door. “Randy you have to go; I’ve got it from here.” Turning to Eleanor he barked another command. “Grab ahold of your daughter’s hand and don’t let go. Stay focused on me, let’s go.”

  Through the door and twenty feet past the Command Center, they got the attention of three Feeders who started toward them. Mason stepped carefully through the liquid mess that had become the floor and raised his pistol as they advanced. The first shot battered his eardrums as it echoed through the halls and leveled the first Feeder, sending the others staggering to the floor. Covering the remaining ground quickly, they reached the door just ahead of their attackers as April returned to consciousness. She once again rebelled against any form of self-preservation and as Mason reached up for the door handle, she slapped his hand away.

  “It’s over… give up. There is nothing to fight for any more.”

  Seconds before being overtaken, he stared into her eyes and pulled her to him. She stopped resisting and fell into his arms, although not returning the embrace. Leaning into the door, Mason twisted the handle and pushed into the room as the smaller of the two Feeders found its way to Eleanor as she attempted to enter the room. It pulled her down and into the hall as Mason left his wife, dropped the pistol and moved in to help. He struggled to free its hand from her blouse and with each small victory it found another handhold.

  Eleanor fought in silence as the second Feeder came in and began to climb over the first. Mason, now locked in battle, struggled to free her. Turning to look for his weapon, he watched as his wife slid it back and forth along the linoleum covered desk. She appeared to have no interest in the scene playing out just feet away and only stared at the weapon.

  As Mason stood to gain leverage, he was thrown to the floor and in front of the desk where April was sitting. He reached for the gun and she slid it away and out of his reach.

  As the pair of monsters fought for position, Eleanor finally spoke in one last attempt at life. “April, I need you…”

  Mason reached for the weapon and once again drew back nothing. April stood and pushed the chair away, gun in hand. The lump in her throat building as the blinding headache forced the thoughts of the last twenty-four hours to disappear.

  She only saw her mother. She only heard her voice

  That was all she wanted.

  Standing over the pile of bodies, she slammed the weapon down, forcing the nine millimeter into the first Feeder’s mouth. Steading her rear leg, she pushed forward and pinned its head against the doorframe, pulling the trigger. As it crashed to the floor, the remaining sub-human already advancing on Eleanor managed to get ahold of her hair and began pulling her toward its mouth. Quickly stepping back, April used the next two rounds to bring the attack to a close.

  Pushing the carcasses into the hall, Mason shut the door and slid a large table in behind. Assuring the other doors were secured, he made his way back to April and Eleanor. “Are you ok… are either of you hurt?”

  He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one.

  April and her mother sat beneath the table with their backs against the door, neither making a single sound or eye contact with one another.

  4

  She was too far ahead, although the helicopter was a longshot. From his position, the odds of reaching the women before the horde did were rapidly deteriorating. With Tessa and Parker already safely aboard, Randy could focus solely on saving his cousin. With the pistol as an extension of his right arm, he raised and lowered the weapon as he moved methodically through the crowd. He weaved his way through, using his free hand to shove the deranged individuals to the ground before they had a chance to turn their attention to him. Only a few feet away from Savannah, he chose not to fire his weapon for fear of striking the wrong target.

  Pulling ahead of the pack and with the help of her cousin whose hands were full at the moment, Savannah reached the helicopter seconds ahead of the closing crowd. Not able to make out Tessa and Parker shouting for her to enter through the rear door, she made a beeline for the cockpit. Clutching the handle, she instantly realized her mistake and turned to gauge her timing.

  Two of the more agile Feeders had broken free and were near enough that the chopper wasn’t going to be an option. She could outrun the crowd, but for how long? With Randy advancing, Savannah circled back toward him and rapidly understood her mistake. The horde, no longer interested in her or Randy, turned their attention to the women trapped inside the aircraft only feet away. Savannah cursed herself. “Randy, help them!” she shouted.

  There wasn’t anything he could do. The handgun he carried only issued a short reprieve and the semi-automatic rifle he removed from one of Goodwin’s men had long ago been emptied and left back at the wall. With each round that exited the barrel of his weapon, two more Feeders appeared from each side of the compound. Randy was able to take down a few from the outer edges of the crowd and lay them to rest, although as the seconds ticked by his arms began to cramp, fire filled his lungs and exhaustion reared its ugly head. He dropped his head, pushed back from the crowd and returned to his cousin.

  They were invisible to the horde now descending on the chopper. She pleaded with Randy to find a way to help the women. Savannah couldn’t form the words quickly enough to make him understand. “They are going to die unless you do something now!”

  With his back to the scene, Randy dropped the empty nine-millimeter and shook the fluid from his blood soaked hands. Removing his shirt and also discarding it, the smell running past his nose battled with the images of the women trapped inside the helicopter he’d flown into Blackmore less than twenty-four hours before. He was the strong one. He didn’t have a choice. The hard decisions made by the group lived and died with him. Her hands firmly placed along her thighs, she wretched forward with each dry heave as he approached. “Savannah, they are gone. There is nothing we can do. We need to go before he returns.”

  Just beyond the rear walls gunfire erupted, pulling him further into the hole that started to consume his every thought. Savannah started for the door to Building One as Randy began his descent. Through his narrowing vision, he saw that she rounded the corner and entered untouched. Dropping to his knees and leaning into the wall, his mind moved from today’s events and touched down in the days just before meeting Major Daniels ten years ago. As his third tour ended, he was given one final assignment.

  . . .

  Charcoal grey cloud cover raced in overhead as the pilot set down on the perimeter just north of the thick tree line as if the night sky weren’t already black enough. His unit was assigned to drop in, extricate the target and return home. This was routine they were told, no one was to draw down and everyone was coming home. The motivational jargon interweaved through the commander’s parting speech should have been the first indication that something was slightly flawed. These were the type of men who didn’t need to be motivated to do their job. They were given orders and followed them, every single time.

  He’d never flown with this crew or this pilot. A few of the men were acquaintances from jump school; although it wouldn’t have mattered. Not a soul spoke as they approached the target. It was as if the entire crew was hand-picked from different units and thrown together in some variety pack of specialists. As they prepared to depart, the men prepared their instr
uments and stood at the ready. He should have been more curious, although with as many of these last minutes assignments as he’d been on lately, it became second nature. Looking back, he realized that this time he should have asked questions.

  The first man out the door was leveled with a shot to the head as he reached the tree line. The six remaining men fanned out, taking cover wherever they could. Randy was the last man out of the door and stayed close to the chopper. The men’s voices carried through his headset even as the pilot restarted the engine, preparing to terminate the mission and waiting for his crew to board.

  Lowering his night vision goggles, Randy was able to pick out two members of his team. Going after the first, he drew heavy fire although most not close enough to cause any alarm. The north treeline proved enough cover as he made his way over and helped the injured soldier back to the chopper.

  As the aircraft began taking fire, the pilot announced their departure for every man to hear. “Abort… repeat, abort mission. We’re airborne in thirty seconds. No more.”

  Randy laid the injured man just inside the door and started for the second when the pilot held his arm out the door, his voice calmly passing through his ear buds. “Son it’s over, get back in. They are gone.”

  He was right. Randy watched as the soldier he was going after was targeted in the next attack. The man’s body was peppered with round after round only seconds before Randy started toward him. Six of the men obviously gone, he jumped back inside and slammed the door shut as the pilot lifted off. The pilot’s words were the last he heard as the chopper lifted off. “Here we go guys, hold tight, they’re coming for us now.” As the helicopter started taking fire, Randy involuntarily lowered his head to his neck, confusion set in as the feeling of warmth ran down his chest. Much too thick to be sweat, he knew he’d been hit.

  Waking in fits of rage and grief, the overbearing fluorescent lighting forced his eyes open in starts and stops. The entire left side of Randy’s body ached. His arm felt like it was on fire and his bicep throbbed with the increasing rate of his heart. Through the pain, he saw the hospital room and had a good sense it was military. Depressing and sterile, it reeked of antiseptic and bandages. Freshly painted white walls that bled into the dank grey concrete flooring, time had obviously left this facility behind. A stainless steel end table sat next to the chair Major Daniels sat in. The crease running the length of his slacks straightened as he stood and moved to Randy’s bedside.

  First turning to check the door and then turning back, he rested his hand on Randy’s right shoulder. “Hello son, I’m Major Daniels and you’ve been through quite a lot.”

  “Yes sir,” Randy spoke through the pain.

  “I have two items that may turn this dark day around for you.”

  “Thank you sir.”

  “Son, you’re thanking me before you’ve even heard what I have to say.”

  “Yes sir, you are my first and only visitor… I believe. And I am thankful.”

  “Item number one, every member of your team other than the pilot and the man you pulled to safety perished on that hill. I am personally thankful for your skill and bravery.”

  “Personally sir?”

  “Yes, the man you went back for was my nephew. He is able to spend the holidays with his family because of you and I am grateful.”

  “We all did what we…”

  “There was no way you were supposed to leave that mission alive, none of you. It was a no-go from the start. We’ve dealt with all the appropriate parties and moved past the incident.”

  “We were set up?”

  “It’s not that black and white son, there’s more to it. We’ve taken care of the situation.”

  The anger he felt was pushed down by the blinding pain running through his body. Randy searched for the words to express what he felt as he boarded the chopper that day, but all he could muster was “Thank you.”

  “The last bit of business we have is your future. I have seen to it that you will be point man on my new project. We have a new training program that is still in the development stages. I want you to lead the team as we move into production.”

  “I am flattered sir, although…”

  “As soon as you’ve recovered, you will be stationed at the California facility. My men will get you anything you need. I’ll see you in a few weeks son.”

  . . .

  Rising to his feet, Randy turned and walked toward Building One. The answer was there the whole time. He only now saw what it was. Daniels has orchestrated every moment of my life since that day. He chose where I lived, what assignments I worked on and who came in and out of my life. Living next door to Mason was no accident. He put me there… to save his family.

  5

  The voices in his head battled with the images of the woman strapped to the passenger seat by her husband. He’d seen many things since the world died, although this was something that would forever change him. He desperately needed to find a reason, some form of civilization where there wasn’t any. The day fading into his rearview mirror, William spoke to his wife. “Karen, I miss you. This world didn’t deserve you. Not now, not ever. I didn’t want you to leave, although I’m glad you didn’t have to witness this devastation another minute. I don’t want to stay here anymore; not another day, although I’m going to find our friends… they need my help.”

  Had his friends escaped? Had they finally found solace among this hell? There were too many questions that couldn’t be answered until he reached the helicopter… if he ever did. Mason and the others were his only family now and the sole reason for his survival at this point. He was going to find them and get answers. Answers to many things, especially the final moments of Karen’s life. He knew Randy had witnessed her being pulled from the vehicle and that his friend tried to help when Marie left the stadium with a gun pointed to his head. For now, William needed to concentrate on staying awake and finding them. Once again he pushed the Seek button on the radio and watched as it made its rounds, hoping for another chance at the voices he’d heard just minutes before.

  The SUV’s headlights reflected the mile markers one after another as he sped toward the flashing red light. His head throbbed more incessantly with each minute that passed. Lack of food and water for the past twenty-four hours began to play tricks with his mind’s eye. He was close, and as the foothills grew more pronounced so did the early evening fog that blanketed the area. Not wanting to miss the turnoff, William slowed to a more reasonable speed as it came into view. It was unmistakable. Pulling to the shoulder and onto the soft gravel underbelly, he stopped the vehicle and checked the GPS. He was sure this was the only way up.

  The two lane paved road was surprisingly free of all other traffic and for that matter any sign that the end of the world had rolled through. Picking up speed as he tore along the mountainous hillside, William again began to drift. The rhythmic pace of the slightly worn tires combined with the beautiful mountainside had a calming effect. If it weren’t for the continual switchbacks and hairpin turns, he’d surely have drifted off more than once. Two long straight-a-ways pushed him to the brink just before something in the distance, a flash of light on the horizon, caught his attention and was gone by the time he refocused.

  The radio had long since made multiple trips around the dial without finding anything but static. William turned it off and returned the window to its upright position as he approached the curve ahead and the source of the flash of light came into full view.

  The late model pickup truck sat in the center of the two lane road. William’s headlights bringing into view what through the dense fog could either be a thick layer of rust or dried on blood. From the looks of the two men, he’d bet the latter. Early thirties and not an ounce of humanity left in either of their eyes, these men appeared to be in worse shape than some of Feeders William had seen. The permanent scowls plastered across their sun damaged faces hung like a badges of honor as they sat waiting for their next victim.

  Rollin
g the SUV to within feet of the pickup, the first man standing near the front of the truck moved away and his suspicions were confirmed. Stripped naked and tied to the front bumper… a Feeder. Once human, this monster they had somehow captured was bound by the wrists, each one tied off and attached with a length of nylon rope to the side mirrors. Its torso opened from breast bone to waist covered the grill and was tied with a generous length of orange electrical cord to the bumper. Below, both legs ran somewhere under the front axle. This still wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen today. Not by a long shot.

  The first of the two men started toward the SUV holding a shotgun in his left hand and yelling for William to cut the engine. William didn’t comply, nor did he acknowledge the request. Watching the man approach, William stepped out with only the door between the two. As he came close, William noticed the second man standing in the bed of the truck wasn’t holding a weapon.