Until... | Book 3 | Until The End

by Hamill, Ike

  “We hear you,” Amber said. “Let’s figure out what to do now. Like he said, let’s move forward.”

  Ricky folded his hands and propped up his chin.

  George reached towards the plate of onion rings and Amber gave it a little nudge in his direction to verify that he was welcome to them.

  “I heard from Romeo Libby,” Ricky said. “It must have been about the same time that you guys went into the mill. He said that they have risen.”

  “They?” George asked.

  “The graveyard?” Alan asked.

  Ricky nodded. “Yes, from the graveyard. He was a little circumspect about it, but he basically said that he monitors the graveyard each spring so he’ll know when they’re coming out of hibernation. He said he has never seen them move around this early in the season. For the past few years, he has been documenting their patterns. I think he hopes to kill the last of them before he dies. He wants to leave a clean slate.”

  Alan nodded.

  “So we’re all on the same team,” George said. “He has experience and we have information about where they’re hiding. This is perfect.”

  “Maybe,” Alan said. “He has also withheld a lot. We can’t be sure that we have the same goals.”

  “How many goals could there be?” Amber asked. “They are monsters. We all want them dead.”

  George agreed by nodding and pointing to Amber.

  “Maybe,” Alan said. “Until we’re sure, we keep what we know and what we’re planning to ourselves. Agreed?”

  They all nodded.

  “You do have to wonder why he didn’t tell us any of that before,” Alan said.

  “I was assuming that he saw our tracks at the graveyard and he confessed because he knew we suspected something,” Ricky said.

  Alan nodded. “Maybe.”

  Amber wiped her lips with her napkin.

  “Back to the subject. We know where the colony is hibernating. There could be more than one colony, but I say we tackle one problem at a time.”

  “If there’s another colony like that, then I’m not sure we have a chance,” Alan said.

  “Exactly,” Amber said. “As far as disposing of them, that building is alone in the woods. All we have to do is take out that hiding spot and they’ll die in the sun.”

  “We’re completely sure about that?” George asked.

  “Yes,” Ricky said. “Completely.”

  “So some kind of explosive or something? The place is brick and stone—a fire is not going to cut it,” Alan said.

  “The mill has stood for hundreds of years. I think an explosion big enough to destroy it is going to draw a lot of attention,” Ricky said. “We’re going to have to be incredibly careful and lucky to not get caught.”

  “It’s in the middle of nowhere,” Amber said.

  “Not quite,” Ricky said. He pulled out a tablet from his bag and they moved glasses and plates around so he could put it in the center of the table. He opened a map. “There are some houses here, and here. They’re less than ten miles. When that house exploded in Kingston Depot, we heard it and our place is fifteen miles from there, easy.”

  “And did you immediately know where the explosion came from?” Alan asked.

  Ricky and George both shook their heads.

  “Then do we care? They might hear it, but it could still take a week for anyone to notice. Only part of the structure is visible from the road, and from the looks of it that road isn’t used much,” Alan said.

  “Still, when it is discovered, they’re going to have to investigate. Whatever we find to make an explosion big enough—it’s going to be traceable,” Ricky said.

  “There’s big enough, and then there is just enough,” George said.

  Ricky frowned at his brother. “What?”

  “Let’s see those pictures again.”

  # # #

  George pointed.

  “You remember that culvert, Ricky?”

  “Which one?”

  “Under the West Road, back in…”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah?”

  George turned to Amber and Alan to explain. “There’s this spot where a little creek runs under West Road. The culvert is enormous now. It used to only be about half the diameter. One spring, right about this time of year, we had a wind storm and it knocked down a dead tree. Part of the tree got lodged in the culvert just as the spring runoff came. Nobody bothered to move the tree and the next thing we knew the entire road was gone.”

  “Under water?” Amber asked.

  “Nope,” Ricky said. “Gone. The flood eroded everything. It took out the asphalt, gravel, culvert, everything. There was nothing left at all except a huge hole where the road should have been.”

  “And from your photos,” George said. “It looks like the spring runoff is in full swing up at that mill.”

  “I’m sure it was built to withstand that kind of thing,” Alan said. “Hundreds of springs have passed with no issue.”

  “If we cut down these trees,” George said, pointing at one of the photos. He flipped to the next shot. “And then undermine this wall here, it will dam up the water against this wall. It’s going to have to go somewhere. We cut close to the river so the water will cover the stumps. Then, I suspect it will take out this wall. Your creatures must be right on the other side.”

  “They might be drowned even if the place doesn’t collapse,” Amber said.

  “And if it doesn’t work,” George said, “we still have the option of trying to blow the whole place up, but this is a more subtle way to start.”

  “Then we just have to find and eliminate the stragglers,” Ricky said. He leaned back and folded his arms.

  “We might not have to worry about stragglers,” Alan said. “Any infection is dependent on a certain population density in order to continue.”

  “Let’s not count on that,” Amber said.

  “No. Of course not.”

  They stopped talking when the waitress brought their food.

  As soon as she had left, George asked his question through a mouthful of food.

  “So? When do we do this?”

  “You have school,” Ricky said. “And you’re part of the planning, not the implementation.”

  “This is my plan,” George said. “You need me there.”

  “Idea,” Alan said. “This is your idea. It’s still pretty far from a plan. Regardless, you might be right.”

  Ricky looked at Alan, surprised.

  “I’m thinking we need three people on the ground and one person at the road. If that person happens to have a badge, then so much the better. When’s your next day off?”

  Nineteen: Amber

  George looked way too skinny and young to be wielding the giant chainsaw, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Amber checked her grip on the rope. It was looped around a sturdy tree and tied to one of the branches of the tree that George was cutting. Amber kept one eye on the satellite messenger and George kept one on her while he notched the tree. It already looked like it wanted to fall. The moment he touched his chainsaw to the back of the trunk, it started to go down. George scrambled up the bank and Alan fought to take up the slack to make sure the tree stayed on course.

  Amber didn’t have to do anything. George’s cut had been perfect. The tree fell right on the rock where he said it would. The top part broke off and rolled into the current. It spun and got hung up between the supports where the river disappeared under the foundation of the building. Where Amber was standing the river was pretty wide. She estimated that it was at least forty feet across. It narrowed down in two places—where it went under the road, and where the mill bridged it.

  Now that the important tree was down, Amber began to trudge back towards the road so she could cross over to the other side.

  Ricky was leaning against his car.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Your brother dropped the first tree. It’s in the right place. All we have to do now is floa
t some more logs down to get in the way.”

  “Assuming it works.”

  Amber frowned at him. “Of course. You have a problem with this?”

  “No,” he said, looking up at the sky. “I’m just frustrated that I’m stuck here. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “If someone comes, we need you here.”

  “I understand that.”

  Amber started up the bank.

  “Let me know what happens?” he asked.

  “I’ll send you a message.”

  By the time she got back to the others, they were already cutting the third section of log. It dropped down onto a set of poles and then they levered the log into the river. It bobbed downstream in the spring current. When it wedged against the others, Amber felt her hope flare for a second. A moment later, it bounced and turned, aligning itself perfectly to flow right through the gap. It disappeared downstream.

  “It could still get caught underneath,” George said.

  “Let’s not kid ourselves,” Alan said. “This isn’t going to work if everything is free to float and twist. We need something heavy to form a more solid blockage.”

  Amber tented her hand over her eyes and looked up at the mill.

  “What about that section of wall? It looks like it’s mostly being supported by that one beam and it doesn’t have anything below the right half. If we could make it drop, it would fall right on those first limbs.”

  “Too dangerous,” Alan said.

  “She’s right though,” George said.

  “The reason it looks so enticing is the same reason we shouldn’t mess with it,” Alan said. “That wall is clearly already weakened. There’s no telling how strong the floor is. We go up there and start trying to topple the wall and we’re going to go with it.”

  “I’m not suggesting we topple it from up there. George, can you climb this tree over here?”

  “Easy.”

  “Take this rope,” Amber said. She picked up the wet coils of the rope that they had retrieved from another tree. “Alan, you stand down on those rocks and catch this end when I throw it to you.”

  She could tell that he wanted to object, but kept his criticism to himself. The plan might not work—she would be the first to admit that—but she was glad that they trusted her enough to give it a try. As she walked towards the building, she wondered if that was a sign of how desperate they were. Everything had gone right, but they still didn’t seem to be any closer to finishing. It had been silly to think that three people could do what centuries of weather had failed to do. There was a reason that the building had stood for so long.

  Amber reached the hole in the wall and reached up to turn on her headlamp.

  The batteries seemed weak. The beam only covered half the distance to the far wall. For a second, she considered going back to swap lamps with Alan. Instead, she continued on, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and reminding herself that the creatures were several floors beneath her, and they were hopefully still hibernating.

  If they weren’t, the rope that was coiled over her shoulder wouldn’t do her much good. Amber paused, swung her light around to find the right direction, and then continued. To her left, there was sunlight coming through the cracks between the boards on the windows. She tried to stick to that area even though the shafts of bright light made the shadows even deeper.

  Instead of heading for the stairs, she went the opposite way. The floor of the next room had caved in near the center. Amber almost turned around. Everything looked sturdy towards the edge, so she continued on, ready to abandon the mission as soon as it felt weak under her. Finally, she saw the wall that she was looking for. Near the bottom, she could see the exposed beam that she had seen from outside. When she ducked down, she saw the river and then found Alan waiting on the bank, peering up in her direction. She waved but he didn’t seem to see.

  She fed the rope through the hole and then around the metal beam. From the ground, it had looked like it was about to tumble from the wall, freeing itself and everything above it. Tying the rope into place, the beam felt unmovable. Alan was right—the building had withstood everything that centuries could throw at it. The idea that they could pull it down with some rope was ludicrous. Still, she wasn’t going to give up without trying.

  As she fed the rope through the hole to dangle it down, Alan finally spotted her. He crawled over the rocks. Slipping on some snow, he nearly fell into the river to become part of the dam they were creating. He found his feet and grabbed the end of the rope as Amber let the rest go. She didn’t leave her post until he was back on solid footing and she had pushed the rest of the rope outside.

  While he took up the slack Amber turned to find the exit.

  Circling the hole was worse on the way out. All she could think about was slipping and tumbling down into the blackness. Her light couldn’t even make out the bottom that she knew must be down there. She heard a noise from the hole. The rational part of her brain pictured a drop of water dripping into a puddle. They had seen and heard plenty of that in the mill the last time. The sound wasn’t musical though. It didn’t have any color to it. The sound that Amber heard as she was circling the hole was more like a tapping. She knew precisely what would make that kind of tapping.

  Despite her fear, Amber forced herself to move faster. She ignored the slippery footing and unstable floor. She got by the edge of the hole and ran through the doorway, down the hall, and nearly missed the turn into the big room. From this new angle, her light caught sight of something that she hadn’t seen before. It was graffiti, written in red.

  The words drove Amber to run even faster.

  # # #

  “They’re in there,” she said, gasping for air.

  Alan tied a careful loop in one rope and then did the same for the other. After they were joined together, he tugged and George began to take up the slack. Alan turned back to Amber with raised eyebrows that asked, “And?”

  “I mean they’re awake.”

  “Oh,” Alan said. He looked her up and down. “You’re okay though?”

  “I didn’t actually see them, but I heard them. We have to be really careful.”

  Alan motioned to her and they walked together to where George was securing the rope that went around the top of the tree.

  “It has a little slack so it can pick up momentum. I’ll drop it this direction, and it will pull the rope. Something has to give. We need to be a decent distance in case the bottom of the tree gets a mind of its own when the rope gets taut.”

  “Where will you be?” Amber asked.

  “I’ll run as soon as it starts to go, but obviously someone has to run the chainsaw.”

  Amber looked to the mill and then back to their location.

  “I don’t know if it’s far enough,” she said. “I heard them in there. That means that they’re awake.”

  “It’s sunny out. You guys said they can’t stand light, right?” George asked.

  “We can’t be too careful,” Alan said.

  George looked down at the chainsaw and then up to the tree.

  “I don’t see another way. You guys can go stand up there on the hill. I’ll run up as soon as the tree starts to go. This is all the rope we’ve got and, regardless, this is the only tree big enough and close enough to put some serious pull on that beam. Are we packing it in?”

  Amber wanted to say yes. The idea of cutting the tree down felt like they were standing under a wasp nest, throwing rocks up at it. They needed spray—the kind that sprayed up to twenty-two feet.

  “No,” Amber said. The forcefulness of her own declaration surprised her. “We can’t be afraid to act.”

  Alan thought for another few seconds and then spoke. “You’re right, but I’m not going all the way to the top of the hill. If something happens, I want to be close enough to help you. You’ve never dealt with these things before and I’m not going to strand you here alone.”

  “Yeah, good point,” Amber said. “So before we do anything,
bring that saw over here to these smaller trees. We’re going to make some weapons.”

  George followed behind and helped Amber cut down trees that were small enough that she could get her hand around them easily. When they had cut three, she and Alan braced the sticks so George could use the saw to sharpen the ends. The wood was a little green, but the spear felt sturdy in her hands. It made the broomstick spear in her trunk seem like a toy.

  “Okay,” Amber said. “We’ll be here. You move the moment you think it’s ready to go. Don’t wait until you’re certain, you can always go back, right?”

  “Sure,” George said. She could tell that he was going to adhere to his own best judgement, regardless of what she said. Amber decided that she was okay with that. She and Alan parked their stakes by shoving them into what was left of the snow and they waited as George tugged the rope and then revved the chainsaw engine. He started with his notch, aligning it carefully so the tree would want to fall away from the mill and into the river. The rope that connected the tree to the beam began to wiggle as the tree imperceptibly shook.

  Amber held her breath as George began to start the last cut.

  He shut the saw off and dropped it before she even spotted the lean in the tree. He was running alongside them, up the hill, when she heard the crack. They turned just as the tree began to pick up speed. The rope went tight and the tension swung the top of the tree a little off of its course. For a second, once the rope was stretched to its limit, it looked like the tree was just going to hang there. The mill’s beam was supporting most of the weight of the leaning tree and it was holding up just fine.

  Then, the tree began to twist, aligning itself with gravity. That little extra pull was enough. They heard a terrible groan from the beam and then snaps and cracks from the wall that it was supporting. The wall bulged and then a ripple shot through it, almost like it was liquid. The beam began to move and bend. The tree pulled and accelerated. Bricks began to tumble and then a whole section of wall. Everything landed on the loose connection of branches and logs that they had already floated into place below. A moment later, a giant piece of the upper wall tipped and fell, splashing down.