Eschaton (The Scott Pfeiffer Story Book 1)

by Shane Woods

  “Everybody else, go with James,” I ordered. “James, I need people working in the buildings. Follow Shannon’s suggestion chart that she put upstairs, and, if you have time, start draining the pool. When Rich is done, get together with him, he has a plan to keep us in a steady water supply.”

  “You got it, man,” James replied, then, “You heard him, people, let’s get rockin’.”

  Calling Tony and Dave to follow me, we moved to the north building.

  “You guys good?” I prodded.

  Dave nodded, and spat on the concrete as we walked. Tony stayed quiet.

  “Tony, you need to talk, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I think it’s best we all keep our minds busy.”

  Tony simply nodded, mumbled something to the effect of him being alright, and they followed me up the million flights of stairs to the ninth floor.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Striding into the command room with the same level of purpose I’d displayed outdoors, I sat at the sole desk facing back into the room, the large sliding doors behind me offering a view of a good chunk of our compound and the lands beyond.

  “Billy, Parker,” I began. “You two need a lot of work. I don’t see you guys surviving long without some help. You go with Dave and Tony. South of here. Just pure scouting, no house clearing, but find these things if you can.”

  I slid a list of supplies we needed the most across the table. Tony picked it up, reading it over as his lips moved. Dave, Billy, and Parker all shared the same look of surprise.

  I slid a digital camera, fresh memory card, and two sets of batteries across the table, and then did the same in Clara’s direction.

  My instruction to Tony continued, “Take a pad and pen down to supply, two days of supplies for each of you, mark what you took, and leave it on Bri’s desk. Take a hybrid from the lot out there, leave Henry be, just make sure it’s got fuel. Be safe.”

  We said our goodbye’s, and they departed, Tony already moving into his role of the E4 barking at Privates when giving the weaker two their directions.

  “Clara, you’re getting the same speech, so I’ll save it,” I continued once the others had left. “Except, your team is going west.”

  “And why are we going west? We don’t know what’s over there yet,” she advised.

  “I know a little,” I replied. “There was road construction going on just past Second Street after the highway, about a block north of the main drag not too long ago. Scout it. We need any heavy equipment we can. Also, look for these…”

  I slid another ready-made list to her.

  “Got plans for rebuilding some roads or something?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Nah, but this morning, the way they made it over our fence,” I began, “Rich’s dry moat sounds pretty fuckin’ sweet to me. And we need more of a gap, so we need another wall further out, and houses need to come down. This means we need equipment.”

  “Okay.” She agreed with a shrug, “You heard him, let’s go.”

  I watched her leave, then almost as soon as the last person left, I reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and drew a small glass, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Double Black.

  I poured four fingers of the potent scotch into the glass, took a long swallow so it looked like only two fingers, then paused. I grabbed another glass, poured three, and replaced the bottle in the drawer, closed it, and departed.

  ***

  I followed the slope of the parking lot as it disappeared into the underground garage. Somebody had removed a number of mirrors from the apartments and angled them inward so they’d reflect the sun into the cavernous space. It wasn’t well lit, but the mirrors provided enough reflected light to see by.

  Henry sat on a bright orange milk crate over near one of the toolboxes, a couple of crumpled beer cans near his feet already.

  “Here.” I guided, handing a glass of the beautiful dark scotch to him. “It’s not your Canadian Club, but it should do the trick.”

  “Thank you, my brother,” he said, though without his usual cheer and fervor. Poor guy.

  “So. Let’s have it,” I started, taking in a sip of my own glass, and feeling the spiced burn as it trickled down my throat.

  “Why-I mean, I never thought…” he trailed off, a hint of a shudder in his usually strong voice. “The kids. Nobody was spared, but I don’t know. I just never considered, I mean, we’ve never seen, and then- ”

  He stopped as he shot the rest of his glass straight down his throat.

  “I know,” I replied. “I shot the first one and puked.”

  “I’m Uncle Henry,” he said, nearly regretfully, as his eyes met mine and turned away.

  Henry was essentially the uncle or the grandpa to every kid in the neighborhood, whether he actually was or not, he was in spirit. This was a blow to the man. He’d have fixed a bike, given a water to, or mediated any kid in this city, good or bad.

  “We’re in for some shit, dude.” I began again, “None of it’s going to be pretty. You don’t have to put yourself in there if you don’t feel you honestly can. You’re important enough that we can keep you too busy to put another trigger under your finger. I’ve got you, man.”

  “Thanks, my friend,” Henry said without cheer or relief, “but I think I’m going to take it one day at a time. I’ll be alright, brother. I’m just going to try to not worry about the mule going blind.”

  He produced a large bottle full of an even darker liquor from the bottom of his tool box.

  “And I’ve always got my Canadian Club. You keep that fancy stuff,” he said, in his best attempt to be humorous. I downed the last of my glass without even a grimace. I figured I’d save the faces for what he was about to pour for the two of us. I hated good old CC.

  He poured a glass for each of us. I took my first sip tentatively, this cheaper whiskey always did funny things to my stomach, but this man loved it, and I wasn’t about to complain about something so petty given the circumstances.

  ***

  I’m not sure how much time we spent in that garage together, switching from liquor to beer and back again, but I know we both ended up with quite a good buzz, and the sun had passed its apogee in the sky. The day was sticky and humid, but the garage stayed cool.

  My mission was accomplished though, I got Henry laughing. I took that as my cue to depart, before we became useless in our intoxication, or before the conversation turned somber again.

  I hugged him as friends, as brothers, and left to go outside.

  I nearly ran headlong into my wife as I turned the corner by the pool.

  Was it my eyes? Could she smell me? Was she watching or listening?

  “You’re fucking kidding me!” she started in immediately. “You’re drunk. Why are you drunk?”

  “Henry needed some help,” I retorted, hoping the vagueness of the phrase would save me. It didn’t.

  “Yeah, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that one. Why? And with what?” she shot back, and, shit, she was right. Henry and I were neighbors before the change. I’ve been in hot water more than once after disappearing for hours and coming back home drunk. The excuse? Every single time, Henry needed help with something. Oops.

  Luckily, she stormed away before I had to find a shield and spear.

  I quickly found Rich and James, they were both directing others and doing their own part in slowly draining the giant outdoor swimming pool. The water was already disgusting, filled with leaves, dirt, bugs, trash, and turning a sick shade of green.

  “James, I know you can drive construction equipment,” I advised. “Can you, Rich?”

  “I can drive some,” he replied. “My dad had some farm tractors when we were young.”

  “Good,” I said, smiling, “because you’re getting your dry moat. This morning made it sound like one of our best defensive moves. James, make up a rudimentary plan I can present to everyone after dinner tonight. I want to push this second wall and dry moat two or three blocks out from here, full coverage.�
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  James and Rich both looked intrigued, perplexed, and amused all at the same time. But neither of them answered, so I filled it in for them.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself, boys. Good work. Extra rations of rum tonight.” And I began to wobble away.

  No sooner had I gotten a half-dozen yards from them, I began hearing the low rumble of a diesel engine off to the west. What the hell?

  The sound approached, crossing the overpass and continuing in our direction. As it passed our wall along the main road, and turned to near our front gate, it dawned on my drunken mind that there was something unfamiliar approaching us and I should do something.

  “Everyone with a gun, let’s go!” I ordered, drawing my pistol and moving toward the front gate. Just then, the nose of a white Dodge Ram with a work flatbed on it rounded the corner, pulled toward the gate, and Clara stepped out of it, rushing over to meet me at the front gate.

  “We have one badly injured!” she shouted. “Open the fucking gate, Scott!”

  I did so, and watched as the truck rolled in, right to the front of the north building.

  I slammed the gate back shut and began jogging to where the truck came to a rest. The scene was already chaos as Clara was doing her best to direct people despite her obvious tense mood. The reason became apparent as Frank was being pulled from the backseat of the crew cab Dodge.

  His head seemed to be wrapped in a t-shirt, as well as another on his leg, and he was clearly in distress, and a fair amount of pain. As I arrived at the site of all the confusion, I started trying to project my voice to gain some level of control over the situation.

  “Shannon, Ashley, Jennifer!” I shouted, and all three were present at once, “Get him up to medical. Everybody else, clear out, give them some room, you all have work to do.”

  “You’re not gonna fucking believe this…” Clara began, then exclaimed again, “FUCK!”

  “Not here. Upstairs,” I directed, “they have Frank, he’ll be okay. Command floor, I’ll be up shortly.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “Okay, yeah. Should I bring Tony and Dave? This is big.”

  “Yeah, get them,” I instructed, before turning to the people moving about. “BRI! Where’s Bri?”

  “Over here! Coming!” she shouted back, and then came jogging over to me.

  “Up to medical, they’re going to need supplies, I think,” I ordered, and she went with just a nod of the head.

  I began making my way up those damn stairs, thinking about all the issues we were facing today, and in the future. Wondering what revelation Clara had come to bear with all the drama she brought back today. Frank was injured, but despite his apparent pain, he didn’t look to be fatally so. Henry was a wreck, and I vowed to leave him to himself for a little while. Everybody else seemed to be mostly keeping their heads about them, and for that, I was thankful. There’s enough fires for me to extinguish around here anyway.

  I walked through the command room door and came to a heavy rest in the chair at the head of the meeting table. Clara, Tony, and Dave were already there, every one of them looked somber.

  “Okay, good news first.” I nodded to Clara, “You found a work truck for Henry, that’s good.”

  “Found your damn construction equipment, too,” Clara shot back. “Almost cost me my Frank. What the hell-”

  “No, one thing at a time,” I cautioned, then lied, “I stopped by on the way up here, he’s fine, just out of the game for a while. Relax. Tell me about the equipment.”

  “Okay.” She began, catching herself, “Half mile west of here, right down the main stretch. There’s an excavator, a backhoe, a couple of dump trucks, and the work truck we took.”

  “Okay, good, we’ll send out a retrieval party. You did good.” Then, noticing the exchange of looks between the three of them, Dave and Tony clearly having been caught up to speed, “Alright, yeah, the bad news now. What happened to Frank? He looks like he was in a car crash.”

  Clara didn’t respond verbally. She instead flipped on the digital camera she held, and once it came to life, slid it across the table to me. I caught it as it slid, and picked it up.

  “What the fuck is this?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion.

  “A big one,” Clara replied flatly.

  “A big one?” I asked again, then, seeing its size next to the other infected in the frame, “Oh. Oh shit.”

  I zoomed in on the beast in the screen. If I were to judge, based on the other freaks near it, this thing was easily eight to ten feet tall. It was bipedal, but that’s where the similarity to the others ended. Pale, grayish skin stretched over what caught me as a Lou Ferrigno build. The skin was stretched so taught that it was torn in places, exposing a disgusting off-pink colored flesh that looked wet to the touch, and every inch of skin was spiderwebbed with thick veins. Its head a small bulb on top of a tree, as it seemed to be the only part of the beast that hadn’t enlarged.

  “Frank, in all his wisdom,” Clara continued, “didn’t make sure the flash was off when he started taking pictures. They saw, it saw, and they came. We got most of the little ones, the normal sized, I mean, but we couldn’t stop the big one.”

  “You run out of ammo or something?” I inquired.

  “No, oh no we still have plenty left,” she explained. “It just did fuck all to it. Even the couple of headshots I managed barely fazed it.”

  “Jesus,” I said, lamenting. “Okay. Get our best gunners up here, I need six people. Get them up to speed. I also want maps of the area this is at, if we have any. Tony, get our heaviest guns together. We’ll just have to make a plan.”

  “Scott,” Clara started, “it hit Frank once, threw him like a toy.”

  “Yeah, it hasn’t tried to hit me yet. Won’t know what hit it back,” I replied, as I got up and started to leave.

  “Where you going dude?” Tony spoke after me.

  “I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother Henry, either. Wake me for dinner,” I instructed as I left.

  ***

  I awoke from my heavy alcohol induced sleep to the sounds of Tony’s voice calling my name. Clearly they had come back from their short range scouting.

  “Scott! Hey, SCOTT!” Wake up dude!” he said excitedly. “Dude! There’s a fire on the roof, come on!”

  “Fire? Ah no, okay, I’m getting up,” I replied groggily.

  There was no answer, except for the sound of his footsteps moving away. I piled out of bed, rushed to the door, ran back to grab a bucket of water from the kitchen, and left the apartment. Last thing we needed was our home going up in flames, Christ, why can’t it ever be something simple?

  Bursting through the door to the rooftop, I stopped cold in my tracks. There was a fire, a pretty good sized one, but it was contained to a burning pit that had been constructed.

  So, there I stood. Our entire community also standing, my crazed appearance ceasing their movement as they went about setting up another rooftop dinner. And there’s me. My long goatee an absolute mess, shirtless, barefoot, nothing but my…don’t judge…Harry Potter pajama pants, and a bucket of water. Tony and Dave were shaking with unsuppressed laughter. Taking the scene in, and realizing the joke was very clearly on me, and everybody else was in on it, I stepped toward them.

  “You fuckers,” I challenged, then dumped the entire bucket over both of them, which was met by a crowd’s worth of laughter. Okay, I was on the spot, but I think we all needed this, just a little bit.

  Easing myself into my seat, Jennifer met me with a steaming plate of fried spam and vegetables, and a very warm beer. Everyone began finding their seats, and we all ate. The sounds of laughter and conversation were a welcome scene, and, despite what we had been going through, everybody seemed to be in relatively high spirits. Even Henry was doing his best to keep a smile, if nothing else for the benefit of the people around him.

  I eyeballed Tony and Dave talking kind of quietly to each other, across from me. I threw a carrot, bouncing right off of Dave’s forehead
, and landing it in Tony’s lap. They both looked over, grinning.

  “What’s baldy think?” Dave said, smiling even broader.

  “I’m not bald, I’m shaved, you hippie fuck,” I called back, jovially, then, “Think about what?”

  “Bri, man, Dave here has himself a crush!” Tony jeered.

  “Crushes are for kids, but I’m just saying, I’d smash,” Dave said through a fork full of food that he held like it would help him drive home his point, “she got that booty like POW, man!”

  They both dissolved into laughter, as I rolled my eyes and joined in.

  “Go for it, dude,” I challenged, “she ain’t got anybody.”

  “I’m about to,” Dave replied, then got up.

  “Watch this shit,” I suggested to anybody listening.

  Dave made his way over by Bri, took the empty chair next to her, and leaned right up against her saying something we couldn’t quite hear. She promptly pushed him away, but she did so laughing.

  “I’ll be damned.” I called to Tony, “I think our boy’s in there.”

  We turned our attention away from Dave and his exploits and finished up our meals with some light conversation. Once the dinner was over I rang my beer bottle with my fork. Fun’s over, time for the serious side of things. I brought everybody up to speed regarding our new large find. Some looked scared, some almost sick, and others looked downright curious.

  “Tony, go get those guns. Dave, go help him, please,” I instructed, they both replied in the affirmative and left the rooftop. “Jennifer, why don’t you go get my Mosin, and the shotgun, and grab that black box of shotgun shells.”

  “Okay,” she replied as she got up to leave, “do you want the bandolier, too?”

  “Yeah, definitely,” I replied, then turned to Clara. “Did you get those maps?”

  “Yes I did, right here,” she said as she pushed plates out of the way and laid the maps on the table. She then began detailing the best she could where everything was situated.

  I lit a cigar and studied the info, and then sat back in my seat. A few minutes later everybody out on errands had come back to the rooftop and the table, and the others gathered around. The plates cleared, Tony and Dave began laying out weapons on the table. Large rifles, a few shotguns, and some revolvers.