The Redemption Trilogy

by A. J. Sikes

  And the bodies.

  Every pile of debris hid any number of rotting, half-eaten, water-logged corpses, most of them human. They’d only found one dead Variant, and it had been shot in the head before it hit the water. Jed and his people had been hauling the damn mummies out of the water for days. They had to clean the place up as much as possible before the refugees began arriving, whenever that was supposed to happen. LT said they should have been there when the platoon arrived at Galveston, but the island’s only inhabitants were a bunch of Army engineers and a handful of civilian survivors. The engineers bugged out yesterday, saying they had more work to do inland.

  Gunny Ewell said they had been dumped here by an uncaring higher command. He was the lone survivor of a failed attempt at reclaiming Houston when the Variants were still active, so he had been on Galveston longer than all of them. Jed could swear the guy was going stir crazy, because he spent most of his time either playing catch with a stray dog he’d adopted or pissing and moaning about their assignment. With Sergeant Jordan’s and Sergeant Kipler’s squads unaccounted for, every ounce of Ewell’s heat landed on Jed.

  On cue, the radio crackled.

  “Shorewatch 1, Hometown 1, over.”

  Jed lifted the mic and replied, “Shorewatch 1 Actual, over.”

  “You still wasting time fishing?”

  “Roger on that, Hometown 1. Just got another mummy for LT’s collection.”

  “Wish I had better news for you, but if you’re still finding cadavers, I’ll keep you out there for a while. Call it a day at 1200 hours. Hometown 1 out.”

  Jed thought about the other Marines in the platoon. Sergeant Kipler and Sergeant Jordan had been with Gunny Ewell longer, and they’d had easier zones to work, with less debris and fewer bodies. But the tedium and lack of anything to do must have been too much for them. Jed couldn’t blame them. The world had ended, after all. Who the fuck cared about a Page 11 or a demotion anymore?

  He waved for one of his squad to do the dirty work of retrieving the body they’d just found. Private Mehta grabbed a hook pole off the deck and stabbed at the corpse under the arm, just like they’d been doing all week. Usually the hook would go right in because the corpses were mostly decayed. This time it didn’t.

  Watching the private struggle, Jed jokingly asked, “Something wrong, Mehta?”

  “It’s not going in, Sergeant.”

  Lance Corporal Garza jumped on that. “More lube, Mehta. What do I keep telling you? Fucking boot.”

  “He’s young,” said PFC Kelly Ann McKitrick. “Give him time. He’ll figure it out.”

  Jed told his people to cool it. Mehta was young, and probably hadn’t gotten laid before the Variants ate the world. But that didn’t mean he had to be everyone’s whipping boy.

  “Just grab it, man. It’s not gonna bite you,” Jed said. He leaned over and lent his hand to the task, taking the hook pole so Mehta could haul the mummy off the wood snag.

  With a tug, the body came free and surprisingly stayed intact. Mehta was about to haul it to the stern when Jed stopped him.

  “Hold up,” he said, as he prodded the corpse with the hook pole, inverting it in the water. When it rolled face up, Jed staggered back. The body was one of the Army Engineers who’d been rebuilding on Galveston when Jed arrived. He had traded jokes with the man over coffee just a few days ago. Back then, he still had his throat intact.

  The guy’s neck had been torn out.

  He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants and a torn-up gray T-shirt, just like he was when Jed first saw him and gave him shit for being out of uniform. The dead man’s bloated and sickly pale face made Jed think of the Variants. But they’d been gone from most of Texas for two years now at least. Maybe the guy was grabbed by a gator.

  The bite was big enough to be a gator’s, but why would a hungry predator just kill its prey and leave it to rot in the water?

  “Dude was bit?” Garza asked over Jed’s shoulder. Garza had his M27 at the ready now.

  Jed put a hand on the weapon, pushing it aside. “Gator could have done it.”

  “A sucker face did that, I’d bet my balls,” Garza said.

  “Nah, man. They’re all gone around here. A gator did this.”

  PFC Gabby Keoh came over from the opposite side of the boat.

  “That’s a Variant bite,” she said.

  Jed wanted to believe her, but not because he thought she was right. Two years ago, Keoh took a nasty bite on her leg from a Variant. She had a funny step because of it, and couldn’t move as easily as before.

  “We’ll check it out when we get back,” Jed said to Keoh. “Private Parsons, get back on the radio. Let Gunny know about this.”

  “Rah, Sergeant,” Parsons said.

  Private Seth Parsons was one half of the squad’s Plus Two component. He and Private Ahmad Mehta were just nineteen, and had basically been drafted from the refugee chow hall on Plum Island, before Jed shipped out from New York. They were fast friends, and would make good Marines someday. If Garza didn’t knock their heads together every five seconds.

  While Parsons relayed the message, Jed helped Mehta get the corpse to the stern where they had tied the first two bodies they fished out that morning. Mehta grabbed up a loop of 550 cord and a foam float from the deck. Together, he and Jed lassoed the corpse, added the float, and tied it onto the other mummies trailing behind the boat.

  “You get Gunny?” Jed asked Parsons.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Parsons said.

  “And what did he say, Private? Don’t make me reach down your throat for an answer.”

  “Nothing really. Just told me to wait one, then came back on and said not to worry about it. Said we should Charlie Mike on fishing.”

  Jed shrugged and looked at the bodies trailing behind the boat, focusing on the newest addition to the chain.

  The man had been chewed on, and that’s what killed him. But what had done the chewing? Were they really safe out here on the water? Had the Variants evolved again to become aquatic? Or was it just a gator that didn’t like the taste of Army meat?

  “So, we going for more catch, Sergeant?” Keoh asked.

  Gunny said they should, but Jed shook his head. Keoh didn’t want to stay on the water any longer than she had to. And Jed had to admit he felt the same way. He’d cook up some reason for disobeying the Gunny’s order.

  “I want to get back. Talk to Gunny or LT. Something stinks about this. Skip, get us home, rah?”

  Murky water lapped at the side of their boat as they made a slow, winding path around the debris-scattered shoreline. Their helmsman, a civilian and a Vietnam vet, took them through the mounds of ruin, aiming for the shore. He was one of the few people who’d survived on Galveston. The others mostly kept to themselves and went fishing for actual food on the ocean side of the island.

  The ship’s radio hummed and crackled to life, and Jed expected Gunny again. Instead, it was the LT.

  “Shorewatch 1, this is Hometown actual. Over.”

  Jed groaned at the sound of the LT’s voice. “Was hoping to avoid this until we got back.”

  Garza said, “He probably just needs directions to the head.”

  Everyone laughed at that, except Jed. He thumbed the mic and said, “Shorewatch 1, over.”

  “You got that body with you?”

  “Roger, Hometown. Coming back now.”

  “Wait one, Shorewatch.”

  When the LT came back, he sounded pissed off.

  “Shorewatch 1, what’s your ETA?”

  “Five minutes, max. We’re passing under the causeway now.”

  “Belay that. Have Skip drop you at a pier on the other side. Link up with elements from the engineers there. It’s their man you’ve got, not one of ours.”

  Jed paused before replying. He thought about the face on the body they’d found.

  “Are we sure on that? I swear I talked the guy last week.”

  “I say again, negative, Shorewatch 1. You are to delive
r the cadaver across the water. Make it happen, water dogs. Hometown out.”

  Jed felt an ache in his gut. Something didn’t add up about the body in the water, and it sounded like LT knew, but wasn’t saying.

  “Sergeant, did I hear the motherfucking pogue LT correctly?” Garza asked.

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “If he calls us water dogs one more fucking time—”

  “Secure that, Garza. We all want to dickpunch the LT. Take a number.”

  Skip increased their speed and turned their course. In a few minutes, they’d crossed the narrow stretch of bay, following the causeway and railroad bridge that connected Galveston to the mainland. Skip pulled them up to a pier that stretched from the marshy shore. It was nothing more than mounded rocks around a mass of debris with planking nailed on top. It looked like shit, but it served its purpose, providing stable footing to walk from the boat onto dry land.

  PFC McKitrick, carrying the squad’s M203, was out first, stepping onto the rocks and finding her feet. She turned and lent a hand to Keoh, her partner in crime with an M4. McKitrick helped Keoh balance on the rocks and stayed with her as they climbed to the more stable planking up top. Garza got there ahead of them and marched down the ramshackle pier. Parsons and Mehta were last out of the boat, as usual.

  “C’mon, you boots,” McKitrick called back to them. Parsons shrugged into his pack. He was their RTO, and staggered under the radio’s weight, but Mehta caught him with a hand on his back. One by one, they debarked, nearly stumbling on the uneven rocks, and reaching hands out for support as they climbed to the top.

  Jed held in a laugh and waved to Skip as he climbed out.

  “I’ll send someone back to collect the body. LT didn’t say where these engineers are supposed to be, so it might be a while before we find ’em. You good on chow?”

  “Yeah, got an MRE or two in the cabin. You go on.”

  “Oorah, Skipper,” Jed said as he moved out along the pier to catch up with the plus two brothers.

  “Hey, Sergeant,” Mehta said as Jed joined them. They trailed a few yards behind the others.

  “’Sup, Mehta?”

  “Why’s everyone such a dick to us?”

  Jed shook his head, remembering his brief tenure as an E1 in the Marine Corps, before he caught a Big Chicken Dinner for fighting too often and giving attitude to anyone who got close enough. The Variants may have taken the world apart, but in the same stroke they’d given Jed his life back. He was a Marine again, and even though wearing a sergeant’s stripes still felt wrong, the rest of it felt right.

  For him, life inside a uniform beat the hell out of life without one.

  “How it is. Y’all are boots, so you get treated like boots until you see combat or they decide different.”

  “Even Garza?” Parsons asked. “It’s like he gets off treating us like shit.”

  “Garza’s just pissed because y’all act like brothers. He lost his folks to the monsters. Still sends his sister email whenever the Internet’s working, just in case, you know? If he fucks with you, let it roll off, oorah?”

  “Rah, Sergeant,” they said in unison.

  The two privates kept quiet after that. Parsons kept shifting under the weight of his pack, and both of them struggled not to slip off the planks and into the water. They weren’t much different from how Jed used to be, even if they did look like the first thing to fall off the bus. Still, Jed trusted them, same as he trusted Garza, McKitrick, and Keoh. So long as nobody outright spit back at him, that was good enough. In this new world, where having someone’s back meant more than a set of stripes, it had to be.

  And especially if one of the people Jed trusted to have his back turned out to be on the wrong side. Whatever the LT was keeping hidden about the body in the water, Jed knew it couldn’t be good.

  — 3 —

  Emily and Danitha moved through the forest for most of the night. They walked as often as they could, picking up to a jog when they had to. Night sounds and the ever-present threat of pursuit kept them going until they had no choice but to rest or collapse from exhaustion. It was nearly 5:00 in the morning now. Dancing, shadowy shapes flitted through the sky. Those were her bats, the ones she’d spent ten years studying and admiring. The world may have become hell for humanity, but at least other species were thriving. Maybe the world would be reborn after all, just with fewer people to make problems.

  Emily eyed the line of reeds and grasses in front of her, scanning for movement of any kind on the ground. Bats were one thing, but they didn’t bother people. Alligators and wild dogs, on the other hand…

  They had stopped at the edge of the forest to rest in a dry and shallow ditch beside a road that separated the forest from the flatland ahead. When they’d sat down, Danitha immediately fell asleep. Emily let her doze for another few minutes before waking her.

  “We have to move, Dani. It’s almost morning, and we have a long way to go.”

  Danitha stretched and yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  “Need some water, and something to eat first.”

  Emily groaned, not wanting to waste more time. She needed to get to Galveston and fast. If her brother was called away for something, how would she find him again? What if he’d been sent where the monsters were still active?

  “You can make it a little farther,” she told Danitha.

  “My belly is empty and I’ve been running all night long. I need to eat.”

  Emily loosened her pack and let Danitha dig into it for one of the ration meals. The sounds of her eating made Emily’s own stomach rumble, and soon enough she had a second ration opened. That left one for the rest of their journey, and they’d only covered a handful of miles so far.

  “Eat only half, Dani. We have to save some, make sure we have enough for the road ahead.”

  “Whatever you say, Professor.”

  Emily’s patience ran out. “Hey, I didn’t choose this. I didn’t make this happen.”

  “But you’re acting like you make all the rules, telling me we’re going all the way to damn Galveston after I agree to go with you. I could be back inside a house right now, sleeping in a bed.”

  “If you want to go back there, you be my guest.”

  Danitha stared her down, but finally gave in. She stuck the uneaten packets of food back into the ration bag and handed it over.

  “Keep it,” Emily said. “In case we get separated. And take the rest of this one, too.”

  Danitha accepted the bag from her and stuck them both in her pack. She handed a bottle of water to Emily in return.

  “Only got two left. You better have one of your own. Just in case.”

  Emily didn’t like the tension between them, but knew it would be a good long while before she could do anything about it. The sun would be up soon, and the day would be hot. They’d need to find a place to rest before the afternoon.

  Danitha stood up, shrugging into her pack. Emily rose and had her pack around one shoulder when a throaty growl erupted from the grass ahead of them. An alligator twisted its way onto the road, thrashing its tail as it moved. It reached its snout around and tried to bite at something behind it.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Danitha cursed, moving back into the forest.

  Emily backed up to join her, and they huddled together, watching the gator defend itself from whatever was attacking it. A hissing joined with the gator’s growls, and Emily’s stomach went tight with terror.

  Could it be a monster? Were they still here somewhere, hiding out in the bayou?

  The gator growled loud and angry, still snapping at whatever was on its tail. A dark shape dropped from the sky and landed on the gator’s back, then another came down, and another.

  A beat of heavy wings fluttered through the air and Emily looked up. The sky swarmed with them, the bats she’d seen earlier. Only these were much, much bigger than any species Emily had ever seen. One of the bats landed on the road and flapped its wings. Other than its size, the creature cou
ld have been a Mexican free-tailed bat. The same rounded ear flaps crested this one’s head, but its eyes were enlarged, as was the snout.

  It opened its mouth, revealing a deep maw set with far more teeth than any bat should have. Emily clamped a hand over her mouth when the creature hissed and ambled over to where its companions were making a meal of the alligator.

  Emily spun around at the snap of branches behind her. Danitha had taken off, fleeing into the woods, heading parallel to the road. With a last glance at the bat monsters eating the alligator, Emily followed Danitha, hoping their footfalls wouldn’t alert any predators lurking among the trees. At the same time, she was grateful for the amount of noise they made as they ran. They were well-concealed against the bat monsters. Their echolocation would be disrupted by all the crunching and crashing.

  Branches whipped at Emily’s face and arms as she ran. She did her best to keep in line with Danitha’s path through the trees, but the other woman had a head start and the sky was still dark under the forest canopy.

  Should she risk calling for her to wait up? What if she’d been wrong and the militia had followed them?

  They’d know where we are by now anyway, she thought as she opened her mouth to yell Danitha’s name.

  Danitha’s scream came first, and Emily raced forward to catch up to her. She stood beside a tree, at the edge of the woods. The roadside ahead was lit up by the dawnlight. More bat monsters gathered in the area, swooping through the sky and coming down to the ground to attack another alligator.

  “We’re gonna die,” Danitha said. “No way we can make it to Galveston now. No way in hell.”

  Emily wanted to comfort her, tell her she was wrong. But watching the bat monsters, she had to admit maybe Danitha was right. Maybe they should have stayed with the militia.

  Confirming her worries, a heavy swarm of the monsters flocked into the marshy area beyond the road. Groups of four or five dropped into the water, coming back up with small fish clamped in their jaws.

  They’ve evolved again. Or the virus affected their morphology. Have other species been affected?

  She and Danitha stayed hidden behind a mound of deadfall that had been swept into the wood by a hurricane. The air was thick with the flying monsters now, but their pattern of flight shifted. Instead of whirling in a frenzy, they joined together into a snaking ribbon heading out and away from the marsh and woods.