Richard smiled as he approached the man, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Sounds to me like you’ve made the smart choice,” Richard said, heading back to where they were all parked.
The others had been watching, but were apparently reserving judgment for the time being.
“That’s the lake, you say?” Bruce asked.
Richard nodded.
“Frozen, huh?” Bruce shrugged. “What are we waiting for then?”
“Lead on, my friend,” Richard said, climbing onto his speeder. Good, he thought, if the ice breaks, he’ll be the first to fall through. Maybe that would afford him the split-second he would require to avoid the same fate. He was about to make the engine roar when movement caught his attention.
Sitting still, he didn’t turn to face the source of the motion, but rather inspected it from the corner of his eye, slowly un-slinging the rifle from his shoulder. It was hardly a shade of white apart from the snow. Wedging the stock against his shoulder, he pointed the barrel out across the lake, leveling the sight. He held his breath and swung the rifle to the right, pulling the trigger as soon as the crosshairs centered on the ivory body. Wide wings spread far too late, the bullet pounding through the chest of the great bird, the body hurtling backwards amidst a spray of its blood.
He heard the other men shouting, drawing their weapons and swinging them in every direction, expecting to find themselves under attack, but Richard calmly climbed off the snowmobile and walked into the deep snow away from their path. Scurrying over the large rock on which the bird had been perched, he knelt over the remains, downy feathers blowing across the snow like tumbleweeds. Taking it by the ankles, he hung it upside down, rivers of blood running down the silky feathers and over the golden beak to drip to the ground.
“What is it?” Bruce asked, leaning over the boulder with his sights trained on Richard.
“Just a bird.” He tossed it off into the shrubs and was preparing to head back when he saw the pattern of blood on the accumulation. The droplets had fallen in such a way as to form two words in crimson, the warm fluids eating through the snow.
Richard scoffed and kicked the words into an indistinguishable mound of snow.
“We’re wasting our time,” he said, this time skirting the rock to head back to the snowmobile.
Bruce lowered his weapon, studying the bloody heap of snow and looking at Richard before slipping the sling over his shoulder and following him back to the others. In the heartbeat before Richard had kicked the powder, he thought he had seen through the scope the blood form word on the snow’
Turn back.
IV
Mormon Tears
ADAM STOOD ON THE BEACH IN KNEE-DEEP SNOW, STARING TOWARD THE eastern horizon, where somewhere behind the low-lying banks of clouds the sun was rising into the sky. Even though he could only vaguely sense its presence as a faint gray aura, he drew a measure of comfort from it. They had survived another night. There had been so much in his former life that he had taken for granted, even something as commonplace as the sunrise. He’d never truly appreciated the magnitude of such a profound celestial event from which nearly all life was derived, nor had he ever wondered if he might be witnessing it for the last time. As he did now. Wrapping his arms around his chest to stifle the goosebumps the thoughts had generated, he turned back to the stone cliff he now called home, wincing at the knot in his lower back from sleeping on the rock floor, if indeed closing his eyes sporadically through the night could be called such.
The dike they had crafted ran the length of the shoreline in front of him, not quite as tall as he was, but high enough to hide the others from sight. The sharpened tips of the poles poked several inches out of the embankment in twin rows, hopefully soon to be covered entirely by the falling snow. They had rammed them straight through the wall of sand so that the trailing ends projected behind, where long boards were waiting. When the attack finally came, all they would have to do is align the lumber with the ends of the poles and lower a shoulder to it, goring whatever tried to scramble over from the other side. It was a flimsy plan at best, but it was only meant to slow them down while they fell back to the cave. There was no way they would be able to face down the Swarm and survive. Their entire scheme was predicated on using the element of surprise to postpone what was beginning to feel like the inevitable.
He climbed over the mounded sand and slid down the back side, careful not to dislodge any of the spears. Ahead and to the left, the sand slanted up to the top of the semi trailer, its roof barely visible. There were five rows of fencing above it, so poorly nailed together that it looked as though it might topple of its own accord, were it not for the haphazard Xs of wood holding one row atop another and the slanted wood appendages propping it up. The blowing flakes actually helped to strengthen it, drifting into a crust of ice and packed snow on the opposite side. His only trepidation was that when the time came, it wouldn’t burn as well or as quickly as they needed it to.
To his left, a spire of flames rose out of the hole in the scorched lid over the pit. It had taken several more trips to secure all of the coal they required, but Evelyn’s contraption was now working far better than any of them had thought it would. The water wasn’t warm enough to bathe in by any stretch of the imagination, but the pipes heated the water enough to keep the ice from forming, and even appeared to be melting it back a little to free even more surface area. Lindsay and April slaved a good dozen feet out from it on the thicker ice, mounding and packing the snow to form an extension of the wall along the shore to shield the kelp garden. Not only would it slow down the forces crossing the lake, but it would protect the open water from the wind to slow the cooling process.
The kelp had almost immediately regained its original form, the leaves brightening from brown to an olive green and new plants were budding out of the silt from the expanding webwork of roots beneath. Evelyn had already convinced Darren and Mare to build a matching system all the way down the beach past the cave since they had done so well on the first, giving them time to bring the saltwater up to temperature before transplanting some of the kelp. Right now she was back in the cavern, curled up by the fire under a blanket, catching up on some of the sleep she had forsaken during the night.
Adam made his way to the cave, weaving through the maze of tall spikes. They were nearly as ready as they would ever be. Their defenses were primitive at best, and more than likely pathetic, but according to Phoenix, they were now just about out of time.
He passed through the cave and continued into the passage leading into the mountain, thankful to be out of the blizzard and the wicked wind. It warmed significantly with each step, starting to dry his wet jacket, the ice now falling from the fabric. His eyes burned with sleep deprivation and his head throbbed, but he couldn’t afford to allow his body to undermine his will. Soon enough he would be able to sleep, but for now they were all counting on him for the strength and courage he could feel draining from his tired body. He’d never been meant to lead. He was a doctor by trade, blessed with the ability to heal and the compassion to do so. The Army had paid for his education, but in no way had they made a soldier out of him. His worst nightmare was not that he would be killed when the Swarm descended upon them, but that he would allow the others to suffer that fate. The mere thought was more than his conscience could bear.
Navigating the tunnel by heart now, he rounded the final bend to see the light from the cavern. Norman and Gray were on the elevated cliff in front of him, putting the final touches on a makeshift vehicle they had aptly dubbed “The Last Resort.” It was an awkward looking creation: the leading surface a flat slab of two-by-fours nailed together to form what looked like a barn door with long nails poking out of it, while behind it they had affixed the rear tires of Evelyn’s truck, which was now sitting uselessly outside on the beach collecting snow. Some sort of pushcart system had been mounted to the wheels from behind. If their outer defenses failed to withstand the assault, they would all make a mad da
sh for the cavern. After the last of them passed through, they would run the cart down the tunnel until it met with resistance in the form of the reptilian bodies impaled on the nails while the others stacked the boulders they had collected behind the wheels until they had built an impromptu stone wall.
There was no plan in place for what they would do afterwards. They would have blocked off the lone point of access and there would be no way out, leaving them trapped inside what would become their tomb. There was a vent in the roof that served as a sort of chimney for the smoke from the fire, but it was far too thin to allow them to wriggle out to the surface above. With the way that everything around them seemed to have a purpose in the grand design, he hated to speculate as to the function of the pueblo, but it only stood to reason that such a structure’s sole purpose would be to house them for an extended period of time. The very idea was positively demoralizing.
“Anyone behind you?” Norman asked.
“I don’t think so,” Adam said.
“I’ll run down and check,” Gray said, disappearing into the tunnel.
Norman smiled at Adam. His eyes were bloodshot and bruised bags hung beneath. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” Adam said, looking down to the cavern floor where the others were asleep around the fire.
“You aren’t fooling anyone, you know.”
“I’m no worse off than anyone else.”
“You look like death warmed over. You should try to get some shuteye before…” Norman stopped short of vocalizing it.
“Before tonight,” Adam said somberly.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”
“I’m sure you’d be surprised. The human body is a miraculous creation, but I don’t have to tell you that, do I, Doctor?”
Adam smiled, highlighting the weary lines of exhaustion on his face.
“You’re a good man, Norman. I don’t remember if I ever formally thanked you for saving my life—”
“No need, my friend. Just make sure you return the favor if needed,” Norman said with a wink.
“I told them all to stay clear,” Gray hollered over the sound of running footsteps. “Let’s take this baby out for a test drive.”
Norman’s eyes lit up like a child with a new toy as both walked around behind the construct, shouldering up against each other and grabbing onto the horizontal piece of timber above the wheels.
“On three,” Gray said. “One… Two…”
Both grunted as they shoved, the cart rolling forward slowly at first, the bottom edge of the wooden blockade scraping the stone floor, but it rapidly gained speed. It raced straight into the tunnel all the way to the bend before becoming lodged at an angle. There was maybe a six-inch gap above it, but the sides were wedged snugly against the walls to that point that it was a struggle for them to pry it free to drag it back out of the tunnel.
Adam listened to them congratulating each other for a moment before descending the rocky stairs to the bottom. He watched Evelyn as he neared the fire, wanting nothing more than to gently raise the blanket and curl up beside her. Her hair had fallen down over her face, blowing on each soft exhalation. Kneeling beside her, he stroked her long bangs back over her ear. She was so beautiful. So amazing. He leaned over to place a tentative kiss on her forehead, his lips barely grazing her smooth skin—
A scream erupted from behind him and she jerked her head up, banging his. They turned to see Jake sitting upright with his blanket bunched around his waist, eyes rolled back into his skull.
V
Salt Lake City
GARRETT SAT ON THE BALCONY FROM HIS ROOM, ENJOYING A MOMENT OF peace as he stared out across what under other circumstances would have been an amazing city. The taller buildings of downtown looked stunning against the backdrop of the distant snowy peaks. He could see the domed facilities they’d only recently built for the Winter Olympics, a sad reminder of a better life. There were houses and churches as far as the eye could see with yards buried beneath feet of snow and skeletal deciduous trees standing sentry over those monuments to the American Dream. They were domiciles where families had gathered to share their love and lives with one another, where they had hoped for the future and told stories of the past. Where they had knelt at the altar of the God that would forsake them in their hour of utmost need, leaving their bloated corpses to rot through the floorboards and eventually dissociate back into the earth. He could only hope that their souls had departed gracefully from their flesh, abandoning the surely overwhelming pain of their black bodies swelling like boiled sausages. Had they been spared from the agony and called to their Father’s side? Were they the chosen and those who remained behind the damned?
He looked to the gray sky, but there were no answers to be found. No glint of heaven’s pearly gates or the hand of God reaching down to reassure him that everything was going to be all right.
Such introspection was foreign to Garrett. He had lived his entire life by his own will, not by that of some greater power. Why then was he now mourning a town he had never known and its people whose lives had never intersected his? It had to be the lack of sleep. He was going on close to seventy-two hours without by now. Maybe more. He might have lost track of a day somewhere in there. Or maybe this was the manifestation of an altogether new emotion for him, one that he had done everything in his power to avoid throughout his life. Could this possibly be what it was like to feel afraid?
Again he found himself staring off at the mountains. They were out there somewhere, weren’t they? Were they watching him now just as he watched them? Or were they closer, hiding in the surrounding buildings, keeping to the shadows just outside of sight through the windows? There was nothing to be gained from obsessing about it. They would come, most likely under the cover of night, but they wouldn’t find their prey cowering and unable to put up a fight. Stand or fall, they would battle with everything they had. They would not go quietly into that good night, but would rage against their fate, going down screaming and clawing if that was their lot.
His primary concern now was whether or not Richard would make it back in time. He could only imagine what would happen if they caught him out in the open. He was a strong man, but no amount of strength or firepower could withstand superior numbers for very long. Worse still…what would become of the rest of them if anything happened to Richard? He was their leader in every sense of the word, the centipede’s head to their minions of legs, without which they would be left in chaos.
He had recognized the look in Richard’s eyes. Like his father, there had been no denying him. Garrett had learned never to stand in the way of a man so possessed. Men of singular focus could be incredibly dangerous, even to their friends. He trusted Richard. He believed in him. But that didn’t mean that the next arranged accident wouldn’t be his.
Walking back into his room, he yanked on the curtains, tearing them off the rings and kicking them to the side. Grabbing the first of the plywood sheets from where they leaned against the wall, he lined it up in front of the patio and nailed it to the wall. He did the same with the other two panels, effectively sealing off the glass. Flipping the bed onto its side, he slid it up against the boards for good measure.
They were now as prepared as possible. Men were rotating through the watch atop the parapet every hour to keep them sharp, while eight others were posted with rifles or shotguns at each of the four corners of the roof with another between to cover all angles. Sixteen more patrolled the perimeter inside the courtyard. Lord only knew if any of them could shoot straight, but he suspected that any opportunity to pull the trigger from the ground level would be at close range. Their instructions were simple, like using a camera: point, click, and shoot. That would have to be good enough. Women and children provided constant refills of coffee and cider to keep all of the mugs hot while others created what was to be a celebratory banquet late in the afternoon. They would have to be ready by nightfall. Setting them on watch with
full bellies worried him. It would slow their reflexes and make them lethargic, neither of which were ideal traits for a sentry, but he couldn’t deny them their elaborate feast, especially if it proved to be their last.
He sighed at the completion of his task and headed for the bathroom. They hadn’t figured out how to run the plumbing, so no one dared to flush yet, but that wasn’t why he had entered the small room. The man who had accosted him in the hallway sat on the toilet. His wrists were taped behind his back and his legs were similarly bound from his knees all the way down to his ankles. Chin slumped to his chest, he simply sat there with blood crusted over his eyes and nose. Thick scabs covered his face, which was startlingly white in contrast to the browning blood congealed on the tape across his mouth. He’d been alive when Garrett had brought him in and restrained him. Peeling the tape off, the body fell forward off of the commode, still bent at the waist, as though in the throngs of rigor mortis. It would be easy enough to discard with the rest of the corpses following the battle. For now, however, the time had come to join in the revelry. He would refrain from eating, trusting the pangs of hunger to keep him alert, but the troops needed to be rallied. They needed one of those famous Vince Lombardi pep talks to work them into a frenzy before the big game, and it would be his job to deliver it. His calling. All of those years in all of those locker rooms, injecting steroids to bring out his animal aggression and intravenous fluids to stave off the cramps, painkillers to deaden some pain while banging his head and fists on lockers to heighten others. It all boiled down to this. He would deliver a speech that would endure through the annals of time, that would be passed down through future generations of survivors. His name would live on long after his body nourished the soil.
Allowing his chest to swell with pride, he walked out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
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