Fall of Man | Book 4 | The Tide

by Sisavath, Sam

  Zoe had her own not-so-flattering description of his current state, but by then Cole had tuned them out as he got ready. That meant familiarizing himself with the AR-15 rifle that one of Cameron’s fellow ex-soldiers had left behind when they were dragged away by wolves. It was a nice weapon with a half-loaded magazine. Cole refilled the mag and slipped two spares into one of the pouches around his waist. Fortunately, while they lacked in sustenance, they had plenty of firepower. He tossed two more spares for the SIG Sauer into another pouch and filled the rest of the available spaces with emergency items.

  Bandages, first-aid kit, and painkillers.

  That last item came in handy as he geared up. He’d downed two an hour earlier, then took two more before he stepped out of the warehouse with Cameron. The soldier led the way, moving with the kind of practiced ease that Cole was glad to see. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was a green grunt in uniform. While Cameron might think Cole was the potential liability, Cole, of course, thought the other way.

  “A little lacking in objectivity, aren’t we?” the Voice had questioned.

  Maybe just a little.

  “Or a lot.”

  Maybe that, too.

  “I knew it!”

  Cole had changed clothes again. He had a couple of complete wardrobes to spare, from when they were scavenging big box stores on their way to Anton’s. He’d already used up one of them when the others changed him into it while he was unconscious. Cole donned a new pair of wrinkled cargo pants and a long-sleeve shirt, then put on the last pair of socks.

  No one had talked about washing their clothes, even though the others had been wearing the same shirts and pants (not to mention undergarments) for a while now. They had found soap in one of the bathrooms, but they couldn’t afford to waste what little water remained. So for now, they made do. The fact that they were all smelly helped to fend off any embarrassment about hygiene.

  Cameron hadn’t objected to Cole being on the mission ever since their talk on the rooftop a day ago, but Cole could sense the kid watching him closely throughout the day and well into the next morning. The young man was either satisfied with what he saw, or he didn’t think he had any choice. (“Definitely the latter,” the Voice said.) Certainly, Dante couldn’t go out there. Neither could Zoe nor her daughter. And Bolton… Well, the chopper pilot was probably the most valuable member of their current motley crew, and losing him would be the worst thing that could happen to them.

  Which was why when he had the chance, Cole said to Zoe, “You ever wanted to learn how to fly a chopper?”

  She’d given him a wide stare in response. “No. Why?”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Should what?”

  “Learn to fly.” Then Cole had looked to Bolton. “You think you could teach her?”

  The pilot had shrugged noncommittally. “It’s not rocket science. I suppose I could teach just about anyone.”

  “What about me?” Dante had piped up.

  “Yeah, that’s probably not going to happen, kid. Sorry.”

  “Dang.”

  “You really think I could learn to fly your chopper?” Zoe had asked him.

  “Why not,” Bolton had said, as if they were talking about learning how to ride a bike.

  “Yeah, why not,” Cole had said, hoping it would encourage Zoe to give it a try.

  When there was time and they weren’t on the verge of starvation, Cole himself wanted to learn. Neither he nor Zoe would become aces anytime soon, but maybe they could be just good enough where their ability to escape into the air didn’t completely rely on one man’s health.

  Until then, Cole had other business to attend to. Namely, staying alive. Which meant locating food and water to replenish their dangerously dwindling supplies.

  “What supplies?” the Voice said.

  Exactly, Cole thought as he moved along the alley wall after Cameron.

  They stuck to the shadows, staying as far away from any streams of morning sunlight as possible. There wasn’t a lot of it—the sun had just barely risen in the horizon—but enough to see with the naked eye. Which meant that anyone out there could see them in return.

  Cole may or may not have shivered at the thought of crazies hiding in the shadows, just waiting, waiting all this time for one of them to poke out their heads.

  There was nothing exceptional about the alley they were in, but it was well-hidden from the street. That was thanks to the two floors of the warehouse to Cole’s left side and an auto body shop to his right. The extra height of Johnson Steel allowed them to scope out the alley for any crazies that might have been lying in wait. Even now, Bolton and Zoe were on the rooftop, (hopefully) hidden from view and keeping an eye out for threats. Both Cole and Cameron had a radio clipped to their hips, and a single squawk was the clue they were in trouble and should retreat. Until then—and only then—they stayed radio silent.

  The alley, like the rest of the city, brimmed with the undeniable stench of death and filth and rot. By focusing on just how awful and miserable and on the verge of extinction the human race was at the moment, it kept Cole from thinking about the pain that rippled across every inch of his body with every step he took. Even using the pistol grip underneath the rifle’s barrel hurt for some reason. Cole wanted to think it was all psychosomatic, but maybe he was just trying to pretend he had made the right decision by being out here in the first place.

  “‘Trying?’” the Voice said.

  Cole ignored it and continued following Cameron toward the end of the alley. They were heading to the rear instead of the front, toward the streets. There were too many open areas on the other side, with plenty of spots for a crazy to have camped out ever since the group arrived in the helicopter. Not a single infected in the area could have missed that.

  The jagged side of the building’s brick, scraping against his back, also contributed to taking his mind off the pain. He’d seen what he looked like underneath his clothes and the bandages that kept him, for all intents and purposes, in one piece. It wasn’t pretty. At least he still had his looks, so there was that. Those damn wolves had gotten him in the arms and legs and other places, but they’d spared his face.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Voice cackled.

  Cameron, in front of Cole, stopped and, without looking back, whispered, “You still back there, pops? Not dead yet?”

  “Get on with it,” Cole said through gritted teeth.

  Cameron either chuckled or smirked, or did a sound that was too dismissive for Cole’s liking. But the man got on with it and continued toward a big blue Dumpster. Or the paint used to be blue. It was too faded to really tell for sure now. Directly behind that was a chain-link fence that separated the alley from yet another back street. From his daily scouts, Cameron had concluded the rear of the area would offer the path of least resistance.

  “You can climb, right?” Cameron whispered.

  He was referring to the Dumpster. The only way out the alley and onto the other side was over the fence behind the big trash bin. Cole knew that already and was irritated by Cameron’s question. If Cole didn’t think he could do it, he would have stayed behind.

  “Can you do it?” the Voice asked.

  Yes.

  “Let’s see.”

  Fuck off.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Cameron said.

  “Yeah,” Cole said.

  “You—”

  “Ask again, and I’ll leave you in that Dumpster.”

  This time, Cole was sure the ex-soldier chuckled. “Yes, sir,” the man said before he peeked around the back of the Dumpster to make sure there wasn’t anyone back there lying in wait for them.

  There wasn’t, because Cameron pulled back. “Cover me.”

  “Go, already.”

  The soldier slung his rifle and climbed up the big object. The twin lids were closed, so he didn’t have to watch his step. The closed doors also kept the stink inside, not that it would have made much of a difference.


  Like most commercial trash bins, this one was 6 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Not exactly Mt. Everest. Cole had scaled higher and rougher terrain. Of course, he was never as gimpy as he was now.

  “Should have stayed back at the warehouse,” the Voice said. “It was nice and warm. But nooooo.”

  It had a point.

  “You sound surprised.”

  Sometimes.

  “Psst. I’m full of points, and don’t you forget it!”

  He focused on Cameron as the younger man made it onto the top of the Dumpster and stared over the fencing. He must not have seen anything that alarmed him, because he grabbed the top of the fence—it jingled flimsily—and vaulted over and onto the other side. The kid landed smoothly (“Wish you could do that, huh?” the Voice said.) and immediately unslung his rifle to sweep the grounds.

  Cole followed, but not before glancing back down the alley to make sure a crazy or two (or ten) hadn’t stormed inside while he wasn’t looking. It occurred to him that he’d allowed a good ten, maybe fifteen seconds to pass since he checked the other side.

  It was the pain. Cole was spending too much time trying to control it that he wasn’t paying attention to the job at hand.

  “Yeah, that’s the ticket.”

  It’s the truth.

  “Sure it is.”

  Cole ignored it and climbed up the Dumpster, then followed Cameron over to the other side. To his own surprise, he landed in a slight crouch, with just enough pain pulsating through his limbs, from his legs all the way up to his skull, to remind him of the kind of shape he was in. But it was better than falling over and onto his face and eating a mouthful of broken teeth against the filthy cement floor.

  Cameron glanced over as Cole landed next to him. “You good?”

  “Stop asking and go.”

  The soldier nodded and went. Cole followed, every step sending needles up his calves, past his knees, and into his thighs. He thought about popping two more painkillers, but decided against it. He only had four left, and there was a good chance he might need all of them later on tonight to recover.

  “You won’t need them tonight if you don’t make it to tonight,” the Voice said.

  That’s not going to happen.

  “Says you.”

  That’s right. Says me. I’m in charge here.

  “Really,” the Voice said. It was, rightfully, unconvinced.

  The target was a grocery store half a block away. Cameron had spotted it from the rooftop and had been watching it closely for the last few days, ever since it became obvious their food supply wasn’t going to last for very long. Not that any of them expected the place to house a treasure trove of food just waiting to be picked up, but the chances of there being something useful was worth the risk.

  And they were taking a big risk. There was no denying that. Not that they had any choice. There was no denying that, either.

  Cole smelled it before Cameron even saw it: A body.

  Or half of one.

  A woman, her torso impaled against the side of a store’s brick wall. A long metal pole jutted out of her chest, where it had been plunged weeks ago. Long blonde hair cascaded over her face, obscuring her eyes. A sharp nose poked out from the filthy strands like a unicorn’s horn. Skinny arms hung at her sides, the head itself lolled slightly to one side. She’d been wearing a silk blouse when she died. As for what kind of pants… Pieces of intestines hung from her severed waist, the rest of her either chewed or stripped—or chewed then stripped—from her after death. A dry, bloody puddle underneath her showed signs of animal paw prints on it before disappearing up the alley.

  “Fuck me,” Cameron whispered as he stopped to gaze at the body.

  “Keep going,” Cole said.

  The soldier didn’t go right away. He stared at the woman for a few seconds too long. Cole didn’t know why. Dead was dead, and this woman was long dead.

  Finally, Cameron got moving again. Cole could hear the man’s gloved fingers tightening around his rifle, the fabric making a distinctive squeezing sound. Low, but still audible. Once, twice, three times. Cole didn’t do the same with his AR. As gruesome as the woman’s remains were, he’d seen worse.

  A hell of a lot worse.

  “You starting to have second thoughts yet?” Cameron asked.

  Cole considered telling the kid to shut it because he was making too much noise. Not that he was shouting, but given how deadly quiet the city was around them, everything that came out of his mouth was unnecessary.

  “No,” Cole said softly.

  Now shut the hell up, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

  “Kid’s a talker,” the Voice said. “Just talks and talks and talks. That’s so annoying.”

  You don’t say.

  It laughed. “Touché.”

  Cole could make out rays of sunlight beginning to reflect off the windows of buildings and snaking around the corners of the structures all around them. They were losing the early morning hours, and with it, the shadows. Cameron must have come to the same conclusion, because the kid began to move faster.

  “So that’s what it takes, huh?” the Voice said.

  I guess so.

  They were flanked by brick walls, but only the one on the right featured a steel door. Some kind of side entrance/exit. The door was closed, but there was a lever, and nothing that looked like a lock. Just to be safe, they’d brought along a crowbar that Cameron had shoved into his back waistband.

  They were moving toward the door when Cameron suddenly dropped down to one knee. Cole did likewise, the sudden movement causing him to grimace as pain exploded through every one of his limbs.

  Fuck me.

  In front of him, Cameron cocked his head slightly, before whispering, “You hear that?”

  Cole didn’t, at first, but then—

  “What the hell is that?”

  It was a voice—not his or Cameron’s, but someone else’s. At first, Cole thought someone was talking from behind the door they were headed toward, but that wasn’t the case. The sound was coming from in front of them. From the streets.

  Cole glanced quickly over his shoulder to check their six o’clock. All clear.

  For now.

  Cole looked forward as the voice from the streets grew louder and, slowly, clearer.

  “…anyone out there?” it said. “Hello. Is anyone out there?”

  It was a woman’s voice, blaring out of a speaker.

  “Hello. Is anyone out there?” it said again, so loud that Cole thought Zoe and the others could probably hear it all the way back at Johnson Steel. “Hello. Is anyone out there? Is anyone out there?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The warehouse. I need to go back there,” Cole said.

  “We already went through this,” Bolton said. “She wasn’t there when we went back for you. There were no signs of her.”

  The signs are there. You just missed it.

  But Cole said out loud, “I need to see for myself.”

  “You think you’ll find something we missed?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the chopper pilot said. “I can’t afford to waste the fuel.”

  “How much do you have left?”

  “One more round trip, and that’s it. If I spend it taking you back there, it’s either come back here one final time or go somewhere else. Either way, that bird’s got one round trip left in her.”

  “I need you to take me back there, Bolton.”

  “Again, kid. That’s a no-can-do. The fuel, remember?”

  “The airfield,” Cole said.

  “Say what?”

  “The airfield back at Anton’s. Did you forget?”

  Bolton’s eyes widened. Apparently he had forgotten. Not about the airfield’s existence, but the planes and helicopters sitting there, waiting for rich occupants that never came back. Or if they did come back, not the way they’d left.

  “Well, shit,” the pilot said.

  “You
did forget.”

  “Nah, I just…” He shook his head and grinned. “Yeah, kinda forgot about that. Good thing one of us ain’t going senile yet.”

  “When I come back with the supplies, I want you to take me back there.”

  “So it’s just you and me going there?”

  “Yeah. I won’t ask the others to risk their necks.”

  “But you’re fine risking mine?” the pilot asked with a chuckle.

  “You have me watching your back, Bolton,” Cole said. “That’s the safest place you’re going to find in this entire world.”

  “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we first learn to make promises we can’t keep,” the Voice said even as it howled with laughter inside Cole’s head.

  We’re not done yet.

  “Not yet. Emphasis on the yet.”

  We’re not done yet, Cole thought again as he listened to the sound of a woman’s voice. In a city as dead as Sugarton, it was unmistakable and undeniable.

  “You’re hearing this, right?” Cameron asked.

  “Yes,” Cole said.

  “Good. I thought I was going crazy there for a sec.”

  Cameron wasn’t going crazy because Cole could hear it, too: A female voice repeating the same prerecorded sentence over and over again, broadcasted through some kind of speaker that was getting closer to their position.

  And then, the equally unmistakable sound of a car engine, clear as day.

  …clear as day…

  Not just for Cole and Cameron, but for any crazies out there that still had a pulse. Even if there weren’t any around their immediate area, the presence of the vehicle—not to mention that booming voice—would start to draw them like moths to a raging flame.

  Cole glanced back down the alley, expecting a crazy to barrel out of the shadows at him. But as before, there was nothing back there.

  At least, not yet.

  …not yet…

  “Hello. Is anyone out there?” the voice (not that Voice) boomed. It sounded even closer now. “Hello. Is anyone out there?”

  “Should we answer it?” Cameron asked.