The Last Outbreak (Book 3): Desperation Page 21

  Pulling away from the exit and the dozen or so Feeders that faded into the distance, Ethan checked their fuel. Satisfied that they’d now easily reach Vegas, he turned his attention to the rear-view mirror and waited for the kid to notice.

  Less than ten seconds later, Ben tentatively shifted his gaze to meet Ethan’s, but quickly looked away. Shifting nervously in his seat, he said, “Ethan… I’m sorry.”

  The interior quieted as Ethan clamped down on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning a bright shade of white.

  “No, Ben,” the intensity in Ethan’s voice climbed with every other word, “you’re not sorry. What you did back there was extremely stupid. You not only risked your own life, but every other person in this vehicle, and I’m getting a little sick of always having to come to your rescue. This isn’t a video game and there aren’t any do-overs.”

  Every other conversation had ceased and all eyes now rested on Ethan. “You all need to get your act together, because I can’t do this anymore. I’m not here to babysit you, and no one is coming to help. It’s us and that’s it, so the rest of you are going to have to take a little responsibility for your actions. I’m going to the coast to find my sister, and I’m not going to allow any of you to screw that up.”

  45

  The group of seven hadn’t spoken a word in the last three hours. With little else to do but ponder Ethan’s rant, Helen, Frank, and Carly had again fallen asleep just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. Ben faced away and stared out the same window for most of the afternoon as Griffin sat quietly working his way through a colorful bag of cold cereal.

  He wasn’t sorry for what he’d said and had no regrets about the way he handled the situation with Ben. The kid had taken too many chances and placed himself directly in harm’s way more times than Ethan cared to remember. There were too many variables having six other people to protect. Ethan just hoped that what he was going to do was the right thing.

  Glancing at Shannon, she also sat quietly, now leaning against the passenger door, and watching the passing desert landscape. On more than one occasion, she’d turned to offer Ethan a hopeful smile, to squeeze his hand, or to just look into his eyes. He hadn’t yet really thought about what he’d said and how it may have affected her. He knew he’d have to explain himself at some point, but not with the others so close by. Looking away, he checked his mirrors one last time and then watched as their destination came into view.

  The desert city sat not more than five miles away as Ethan thought back to what Mayor Gil Walker had said about the military clearing a path all the way to the coast. Initially, he’d thought the idea was ludicrous; however, other than a few vehicles that dotted the interstate back at the Nevada border, every inch of highway he’d driven had been free of anything that possessed four wheels. Although at the moment, Ethan wasn’t sure if this was something to celebrate or be fearful of.

  The exit for South Las Vegas Blvd and downtown was still a few miles off when he first noticed the thick black smoke. It crawled away from the city and gave the late afternoon skyline a murky brown glow. He kept the windows of the SUV up, but as they rolled to a stop at the bottom of the ramp for Charleston Boulevard, the overwhelming stench of burning fuel filtered in through the vents.

  Left on Charleston, Ethan drove under the interstate and slowed along the right sidewalk. Much different from the last seven-hundred-fifty miles, these roads were a maze of wrecked vehicles and decaying corpses. Three bodies lay near the middle of the road, each eliminated with a single shot to the head. Human or otherwise, this is where they ended their journey.

  Leaning into the steering wheel, he turned to Shannon and motioned toward the barrier at the right side of the road. Three taxi cabs had been pushed into an empty field just beyond the off-ramp and were littered with bullet holes from top to bottom, as if someone, or a few someone’s had decided to take target practice in the middle of the city.

  Before turning his attention back to the road, Ethan looked closer and saw a jacketed arm hanging from the rear door of the taxi, closest to the street. A thick trail of blood had run down the victim’s body, across his or her hand, and now pooled in an open briefcase sitting near the rear tire. Ethan shook his head.

  Turning off Charleston, and heading south on Las Vegas Boulevard, Ethan sat up in his seat and pumped the brakes when he realized what he was looking at. The source of the burning fuel was obvious. Although slowly pulling alongside the first of many scorched vehicles, Ethan had to turn away at the sight of the four elderly bodies still strapped into the seats of their charred convertible.

  Scanning the street, the fire had long since been extinguished and there were no indications as to the cause of the grotesque scene; however, this was no accident. This was something altogether different, something he and the others had not yet witnessed—this was a slaughter of four innocent people who at the time were obviously unable to defend themselves. It was apparent that Vegas had fallen, what wasn’t clear was how or why.

  Avoiding the torched convertible, Ethan rolled the SUV into the empty parking lot of a storage facility, and pulled to a stop. Facing south, the lot sat up from the street, giving him a good vantage of the long boulevard. He quickly checked the area beyond his windshield and opened the door.

  Stepping out onto the asphalt, Ethan glared into the distance. More destroyed vehicles, and not just convertibles or taxis. Some were burned, some flipped over, and a few that had enough bodily damage that Ethan would have believed they were dropped from the top of a casino.

  Further on, he spotted a trio of displaced Feeders, the first he’s seen since coming into town. They lumbered along the sidewalk, not heading in any specific direction. As he waited for a count of five, another seven walked out from behind a small convenience store. And just before turning away, he caught a glimpse of another Feeder that had just one leg. It slowly dragged itself toward the street and appeared to growl at its more agile friends.

  With a good idea of how the rest of the city may have fared, Ethan looked down the long boulevard to an area that appeared somewhat untouched. He and the others would still have to get through the maze of destruction that was Las Vegas Boulevard; however, he desperately needed sleep. And if there were a bed somewhere in this town that he could get to without being shot, burned, or eaten alive, he’d do whatever it took to find it.

  Returning to the SUV, Ethan leaned inside. The others were already staring back at him. He wasn’t sure what their reaction would be after ignoring them for over three hours, but at this point, it no longer mattered. They needed to get somewhere safe before the night came and the time for that was quickly escaping.

  Gathering his thoughts, Ethan pointed back toward the street.

  “I don’t really know the area, but for the next mile or so it’s not very pretty. We’ll get through without any problems, only a few of those things out there, but after that, there’s a casino or hotel or whatever that looks okay.”

  Griffin brushed the cereal flakes from his shirt and sat up straight. “Okay, what does that mean?”

  “I guess we’ll see when we get down there.”

  Navigating the maze of discarded luxury vehicles, overturned dumpsters, uprooted palm trees, and the many, many lifeless bodies along Las Vegas Boulevard, Ethan focused on the driveway just before West Baltimore Avenue. Turning in and following the far left lane to where it ended at the valet stand, he left the engine running and opened the windows.

  Taking a quick look around the empty lot, Ethan waited and listened. Over his right shoulder, he spoke under his breath to the others, “Let’s give it a few minutes to see what we see. It’s going to be dark soon and this is a big place. We won’t be able to search the entire building, so for now, we’ll get one floor secured and go from there.”

  A full five minutes later, Ethan and Griffin had cleared the area around the entrance and slipped quietly into the lobby of the resort. Weapons drawn, the men jogged through the mostly untouched main floor. A
ttempting to draw out any hidden Feeders, they shook the handles of random slot machines and tossed hundred dollar chips into the hall leading to the elevators.

  Nothing… other than the hurried footfalls of the two men.

  Outside, Frank waited, keys in hand at the SUV. He stood at the open driver’s door and communicated with Shannon as they waited for their friends to return. The others gathered what they could, filling five plastic bags with the snacks and toiletries they’d taken from the hotel and stared with hopeful eyes at the bank of gold-rimmed glass doors.

  Another ten minutes and as the sun buried itself behind the Spring Mountains, Ethan and Griffin emerged from the darkened luxury hotel. They were out of breath and waving the others out of the SUV. Ethan moved quickly to the rear passenger door and offered his arm to his mother as she stepped out onto the pavement.

  “You’re going to be safe here.”

  His mother looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “We’re going to be safe here.”

  “Yes,” Ethan said, “we’re all going to be safe here.”

  46

  West Coast - Day Twelve…

  Emma had sat with Tom in the same room for the last three days, her head now pounding from the absolute boredom. She could feel her mind and her body slowly beginning to atrophy. She ate and drank sparingly, only crawling out into the hall a few times each day to stretch her aching limbs. Pushing back into the corner of the suite, pulling her legs into her chest, and gazing sideways at the window, the plan Cedric had laid out no longer made sense.

  She and Tom had done exactly as Cedric had asked. Radio on at sunset and off at sunrise. Their bags were always packed and they’d stayed out of sight. But as the minutes turned to hours and the hours turned to days, the chatter from Cedric’s radio had all but fallen off.

  The staged conversations between Cedric and Veronica could be heard intermittently over the first forty-eight hours; however, last night was more quiet than usual. Cedric had checked in from both ends of the building, reported the locations and movement of the various hordes, and only waited for his wife to confirm. Two quick bursts of static filtered through the radio and then they were gone.

  That was more than twelve hours ago, and Emma knew that something had to have gone wrong. “Tom,” she said, “why can’t we just leave? Why not just take the stairs to the garage and walk out?”

  “Really, you don’t think that Blake has someone watching every exit?”

  “There’s no way he can see everything, not all the time.”

  “I guess we could try, but you know what Blake would do to us, as well as Cedric and his family, if we’re caught.”

  “No, I really don’t. For all we know, he wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

  “Emma, you’re getting stir crazy. Let’s give it at least until tonight. If we don’t hear from Cedric or Veronica before then, we’ll make our own plan to get out of here.”

  She didn’t like that. Emma needed something more concrete. Cedric’s instructions from three days ago were too vague. They left too many questions. And without a way to ask, she was left with nothing but her own, less than rational thoughts.

  “We don’t have a weapon.”

  “No,” Tom said, “the revolver was empty. It’s still in my bag, but it’s not going to do us any good.”

  “So, leaving on our own isn’t going to work.”

  Tom shook his head. “Probably not. But we also have to think that since we didn’t hear much from Cedric last night, maybe Blake has moved on. Maybe he found something else to focus on.”

  “Then why hasn’t Cedric come for us? Why are we still up here waiting for… for… I don’t even know what?”

  Tom looked toward the hall before answering her. He closed his eyes and appeared to be listening to something. He held up his right index finger and after a short awkward moment, he turned back. “Did you hear something?”

  “Other than my own voice?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I know you want out of here, and so do I, but there’s just too much—”

  “Too much what?” Her face was red. It was frustration. It was anger. It was confusion. It was all of those things and more. She had something she needed to say to him, but didn’t have the right words. Although, she thought, maybe the wrong words were exactly what Tom needed to hear. And when he didn’t respond, she took a chance.

  “Tom, I need you.”

  “Yes, I’m here for you, Emma.”

  She took a deep breath. “No Tom, I need the real you. The one that saw me hiding in the garage and decided that I was worth the trouble. The one that pulled me out of there and saved my life. That’s the person I need. And I’m sorry, but you haven’t been that person since Cedric and his son carried you into this building. Without you, the real you, I’m afraid neither of us is getting out of here.”

  Tom looked down at the floor. He waited a beat, collected his thoughts, and said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve slowly been losing myself since we got here. I could feel it happening, but didn’t do anything about it. Before last week, I was used to running, taking chances, and almost started to think that was normal. But then we got here, we didn’t have to run, we didn’t have to hide, it just felt good to depend on someone else for once. Even if it was just for a few days. I don’t like it, but I guess I just got used to it.”

  “I was getting used to it as well. But I think we need to figure out what we’re going to do if Cedric doesn’t come back soon.” Now Emma felt bad, worse than she thought she would. Tom had seen the same thing in himself and was actually apologizing. That’s not what she wanted, but for now it would have to do. Maybe he’d take the lead and somehow get them out of the oddly accommodating prison she felt trapped inside.

  “Okay,” Tom said. “I’ve got a way for us to get—”

  He was stopped mid-sentence. For the first time in three days, there was a sound coming from the twelfth floor that wasn’t produced by either Emma or himself. The slamming of a door that felt like it rocked the entire building resounded through the suite.

  Reaching for her bag and pulling it in close, Emma could only watch as Tom stood and started for the door. He was no longer worried about the windows and whether or not Blake’s men would see him. His only focus was on the door and what would be coming through it in the next few seconds.

  Backing into the corner and starting to stand, Emma flinched as Cedric came plowing through the open door. He was completely out of breath, and carrying a weapon in his left hand. He didn’t appear to notice her, and instead continued to the opposite side of the suite.

  The man who’d saved them only days earlier now looked dismayed. The mild bruising over his eye had completely taken over the left side of his face. And as he ran to the edge of the suite and checked the windows, he breathed in and out heavily, fighting to speak.

  “You… have… to go… right now.”

  47

  Dalton had grown comfortable, but knew their time in the city was drawing to a close. It had been three days and his only interaction with Goodwin had been a few trivial conversations as the two passed in the elevator on their way to somewhere else. However, today would be different. Goodwin had requested a meeting. He hadn’t given any specific details, so from experience, Dalton knew this wasn’t something he was going to enjoy.

  Before the world went to hell, there was a process for scheduling a meeting. There was email. There were agendas and there were others around to take some of the focus away from Dalton. He mostly enjoyed the weekly progress reports he and the other department heads of BXF had. His team usually was praised for their monumental achievements, while the newer Biological Research Unit typically fought Goodwin on timeline and funding.

  Now, sitting back and watching the city burn, Dalton began counting down. He continued to glance at the clock and with five minutes left, he stood, straightened his tie, and walked to the door. Goodwin would be waiting impatiently even if Dalton walked through the door twenty minutes
early, so in his mind, showing up right as the clock struck five would be his best bet.

  Tablet in hand, Dalton called the elevator and watched as it descended from Goodwin’s penthouse. Once inside, he ran through the numbers he knew he’d need and remotely adjusted the air conditioning and lighting within his own suite. It wouldn’t make much difference to the overall consumption of the entire building, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to look like he was a team player.

  Reaching the penthouse, the elevator doors parted. Dalton stood against the rear wall of the glass-lined elevator car and paused. He stared down at the tablet that now glowed a backlit BXF logo and tried to prepare himself for what was to come. It would be impossible to outmaneuver Goodwin, but maybe if he used a different approach, he’d make it back to his suite with a small piece of his dignity still intact.

  As the doors started to close, Dalton leaned forward and placed his size ten loafers in the way of the sensor. The doors quickly responded and he stepped out into the cool hallway. Tucking the tablet under his left arm, he moved quickly along the dimly lit hall and through the massive glass doors.

  As expected, Goodwin was already seated in one of two white leather armchairs. They were positioned alongside the floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooked the city he no longer cared for. As Dalton walked quickly into the room, the man who essentially ended mankind addressed him without turning.

  “Dalton, before you sit, let me ask you one simple question.”

  Dalton continued walking, but stopped as he approached the chair. “Yes?”

  “Can I count on you?”

  This is where Dalton felt the new approach may change the dynamics of the remainder of the conversation. “Yes Mr. Goodwin, as always.”