The Next World (Book 3): Resurgence

by Olah, Jeff

  “Travis and Kevin are taking the others around back.”

  “Others, how many are there?”

  “Three.”

  “And what’s Owen doing?”

  “You can ask him yourself, he’ll be coming through that door any second.”

  “Ava and Noah are in the back, can you hang out here for a few?”

  There was motion beyond the front door. A rustling, like someone was tearing apart a plastic bag. Natalie laid a hand on Harper’s shoulder and then turned and started in the opposite direction. “Thanks, just give me a few minutes.”

  Three paces from the door and she could hear him breathing in and out, much faster than usual, like he’d been running or was in the throes of a full blown panic attack. Reaching for the handle, Natalie pulled it open slowly to find her husband pitched forward with his hands on his knees.

  “Owen?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “No you’re not, what’s going on?”

  “This isn’t me, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  She moved to him, placed her left arm over his shoulder and her right hand on his chest. Helping him to stand, she peered out toward the gates. Lucas looked like he was shaking as he closed and locked them. “I know who you are and I know where you’ve had to go to make things safe for us here.” She pushed into him, her lips next to his ear. “I’m okay with it.”

  Owen saw that Lucas had turned away from the gates and was now heading up the walk. He closed his eyes for a moment, pulled Natalie into a hug, and kissed her on the forehead. “But I’m not sure that I am.”

  As Lucas approached he looked past them and in through the door. He wiped at his face and swallowed hard. “Uh … Owen?”

  “I’m gonna go around and meet them in the back, why don’t you head inside and make sure we have what we need for tonight?”

  Lucas increased his pace and continued through the door. He tucked his weapon into his pants, turned the corner, and disappeared into the interior.

  Owen pulled away, almost too forcefully.

  She noticed. “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice. I mean Kevin is okay with some of the things that the rest of us aren’t. Why don’t you lean on him a bit more?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, not anymore. I can’t ask someone else to do what I should have been doing since day one. That wouldn’t be right, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

  Natalie didn’t like what all of this was doing to her husband, but knew he was right. The world was different and it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect that he wouldn’t change with it. And of everyone, Owen was going to have to make the biggest change to who he was. She just hoped it wouldn’t take everything that he used to be as well.

  She lowered her head a bit and looked up at him through squinted eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  He bit into his lip and again looked toward the street. “One of them said something about us leaving. Like he knew we were already having problems here, maybe they’re the reason—”

  She stopped him, knew where this was going. Like it had a hundred times over the last several weeks. “You think we need to leave.”

  “Let me just figure this out, see what they know. We can make a decision as a group.”

  Natalie folded her arms into her chest, began to shift her weight from one foot to the other. “Gentry’s not getting any better, he says he doesn’t think he can make it work here. Not with the way things are. He needs help, and more than I can give. So …”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you’ve been right the whole time.”

  Owen cut his eyes at her, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, smiled. “I’m going to need you to repeat that, maybe more than once. And definitely when we get back to the others.”

  “I love you, you know that right?”

  Owen nodded and once again looked over his left shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Natalie said, “go do what you need to do, but be careful. And don’t try to do this all on your own; you’re not alone out here.”

  Owen gave her another kiss on the forehead and looked into her eyes. “I love you too, now go inside.”

  8

  Jerome Declan watched the monitor and gripped the edge of the desk. The joints in his wrist and hands felt like they were on fire, although he was having a hard time containing himself. He pushed back in his chair, cursed as he stood, and started toward the hall.

  Within ten feet of the elevators, he stopped and waited. When the doors finally opened and the two men looked up, he was nearly spitting his words. “Where is he?”

  The man on the left was a head taller than Declan and looked like he outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. His faded jeans were tight around his massive legs and his black polyester jacket hugged his biceps like they were meant for someone at least two sizes smaller. He spoke first. “We found them, but …”

  Declan held the wall as he took a step forward. “Found who?”

  “The Mercers, Thomas led us right to them.”

  For a moment, his anger began to fade into something resembling excitement. Something he hadn’t felt since that day driving onto the abandoned freeway, only minutes before his entire existence was irreversibly altered.

  “Are you sure, where is he now?”

  The mammoth of a man paused a moment and pushed his fingers into his temple. “They got him, but they also got the others …”

  There was something else. The way he paused at the end of his statement. Declan could read most people like a book, and now that his other senses had been slightly impaired, he felt almost telepathic. “And?”

  The man in the faded denim curled his lip. “And … they killed Steven. He died in the street, in the gutter.”

  Declan took a measured step forward. He never liked Steven, and probably would have done the same thing at some point, but at least for the time being he was needed. He was necessary for what was being built in the former offices of BXF Technologies. And although it appeared he had a lock on Natalie Mercer, there would still be a debt to be paid.

  “Who else?”

  “They got Thomas, but it looked like he was there to help them. They also got Billy and Max, it was a mess from the time they stepped out onto that street.”

  “No one else made it out?” He took a breath as he tried to control the rage building behind his words. “Just the two of you?”

  The second man shook his head. He had bad skin and a nose that looked like he’d been on the losing end of one too many fights. “No, Jack and Caesar are downstairs. They want to go back.”

  For an instant, the pain radiating from his right leg and into his lower back faded. He held back the urge to smile, and instead took a moment to look out over his suite before turning back to the giant of a man in the black polyester jacket. “And Mario, what do you think we ought to do?”

  Mario looked at the floor for a few seconds, turned to the smaller man on his right, and then back to Declan. “Uh … I say we go get our men back. I say we take everyone back over there and open that place up like a can of sardines. Make them pay for what they did to Steven.”

  Declan shifted his weight from one leg to the other and motioned back toward the windows. “Okay, round up the twins and everyone who isn’t already outside the radius. I also don’t want us disrupting the group in quadrant four, we need those supplies. But everyone else needs to be ready to move.”

  The smaller man’s eyes darted from Declan to Mario and then back. He looked like he was going to speak, but then didn’t.

  “Yes, Frederick?” Declan tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. “Was there something else, something I may have missed?”

  Frederick shook his head. “No sir, it’s just that—”

  “It’s just that what?”

  “Those people, it seemed like they knew that we were coming, that they were just waiting for us. W
hat if they make Max or Billy talk, what if they’re just waiting for us again?”

  Declan admired the smaller man’s forethought, or maybe he was just amused by it. Either way, he liked Frederick. He liked him in the way he would have liked having a little brother growing up. The way he would have liked having a puppy or a kitten or a rabbit. Childlike imagination tossed into a full-grown human. It never got old for him.

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “They may have known we were out there this morning, and they might be expecting us to come back for our men. Hell, they may even have someone inside this building who is tipping them off right this very minute. Who knows, I mean it could be anyone. It could even be someone in this room.”

  Mario shook his head. “Mr. Declan, with all due respect, I don’t think it was someone in this building, or even someone out with us this morning.”

  “Really?” Declan scoffed. “Then what’s your theory? How would Mercer and her family have known that we were out there? How would they have known about any of what we were doing? I mean, this was something I hadn’t even been made aware of.”

  The massive man nodded. “I don’t think they knew we were out there, but they may have known about Thomas. He’d been going out on his own for the last few days. Maybe he tipped them off.”

  Mario was right and he knew it. He nearly brought Thomas in days ago, but he wanted to see how all of this would play out. Now he was glad he didn’t. Although he’d lost one of his own, and possibly more than that, he had a chance to finally find the man who attempted to end his life.

  “You may be right. It very well could have been Thomas, and before this day ends we are definitely going to find out. We are also going to make those people pay for what they did, every single one of them.”

  Frederick looked like he was going to speak, but then Declan raised his hand, cutting him off.

  “But, there are a few things I want everyone to understand before we leave this building. First, I want Thomas Jefferson found and brought back here. I don’t care what we have to do. And second, no one touches Mercer or her children, and especially not her husband. You bring them to me unharmed, no exceptions.”

  9

  Owen stopped outside the gates, slipped the Glock into his waistband, and took his time wrapping the length of chain. He moved slowly, counting each revolution as he attempted to clear the images from his head, if only for the moment.

  Before moving on to what was next, he slammed home the lock, let it drop on the opposite side, and stepped to the edge of the gate. An eight-foot section of Douglas Fir, two-by-six, painted white and bolted to the concrete column, was his target. He twisted back, dug in his trailing foot, and slammed his right fist into the pressure treated piece of wood.

  There was an audible crack that sounded like the two-by-six had taken the worst of it, but the white-hot thunderbolt of pain that shot from his hand up into his elbow told him another story. He felt lightheaded for a moment, but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t nearly done.

  Winding back and clenching his jaw, Owen unleashed a second and then a third strike. His vision went bright and then quickly darkened, a minefield of hazy stars shooting across his eyes. He dropped to one knee and let out a howl that sounded eerily similar to a wounded animal.

  From a kneeling position he leaned back, closed his eyes, and turned his face toward the sky. He thought about his former life, the one before the world died. The one before every single minute of every single day was a life or death situation. The one before he had to kill a man just so his wife and his children could live to see another sunrise.

  He hated who he’d become and no longer wanted to be Owen Mercer, at least not this version. He wanted to put a pistol in his mouth and squeeze the trigger; however that wouldn’t change a damn thing. It would only make this life an even deeper level of hell for those he’d leave behind.

  Owen sat forward, wiped his bloodied right hand against his shirt and then his pants. He reached for the gate, pulled himself up, and started toward the rear wall. As he slipped in between two cars, stepped off the sidewalk, and jogged the last twenty yards, his thoughts were only for what came after the next few hours.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done.” It was a voice he didn’t recognize. And as he dipped around the northwest corner, Owen saw the three men from the street.

  Thomas, the tall young man who’d been shot by one of his own, stood with his back to the wall as, six feet away, the other two sat on plastic crates beside one another. Travis was opposite them, his weapon trained on the man in the green aviator jacket. Kevin stood further back, eyeing the second man, who wore a black long sleeve t-shirt and a blue ball cap.

  “I say we let them go.” Travis wore an evil smirk as he turned to Owen. “Let them run the gauntlet, see if they even make it back to the garage.”

  The comment hit him as funny, although Owen didn’t laugh. He was still in it, couldn’t put aside what was coming. “Stand them up. Take the tall one back to the yard, and leave the other two here.”

  The tall young man looked from Owen to Kevin and then back. “My name is Thomas. I told you, I came here to—”

  “Shut up.” Owen was staring at the man in the green jacket, specifically at the knot that had risen along the right side of his head. He wanted to hit him again, in the same spot. But first there was something he needed. And finally turning back to Thomas, it hit him again.

  Something he didn’t quite yet understand.

  Kevin had moved to Thomas and was now starting to lead him away.

  “Hold on,” Owen said. “Just a second.” He stepped closer to the young man, waited for Kevin to release him. “Who are you?”

  “My name is—”

  “No!” Owen roved the end of the Glock from Thomas to the other men and back. “Who are you? Why are you here, and why in the hell did your own people shoot at you?”

  “I was trying—”

  Owen cut him off again. “If you lie to me, I will kill you. All three of you, just like your friend out there in the street.” He didn’t like this role and wasn’t used to the theatrics. But for now it was keeping his family safe, and that was all he could focus on. “And trust me, this isn’t a game. I’m not kidding.”

  The man in the aviator jacket started to stand. His hands had been taped behind his back, his exaggerated movements pulling all eyes toward him. “It doesn’t matter. I already told you—you and your family are as good as dead. There’s no going back now.”

  “If you could have, you would have. And just for the record, I wasn’t speaking to you. Going forward, unless I ask for you specifically, I’m gonna need you to keep your mouth shut. Things will go much more smoothly that way.”

  The man shook his head, laughed under his breath, and backed himself into the wall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Owen ignored him and instead, turned back to Thomas. “Why were you out there? How did you find my family? And don’t tell me it was a coincidence or that you don’t remember us from the city.”

  Thomas looked first at Kevin and then back at the two men. “I’ve been out here for a while now, every day.”

  “So, you just got lucky? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Thomas turned from the men, stepped out away from the wall, pushing his hand into his hip. “No, that wasn’t it.”

  “Okay?”

  Before the younger man could begin, Kevin took a step toward the man in the green jacket and raised his weapon. There was a glint of light that cut at the side of his left eye. A tear. “Tell him Max, tell him why you followed the kid out here.”

  The man who Kevin had addressed as Max didn’t move. He only stared at the ground, while mumbling something incoherent.

  Owen cocked his head, cutting his eyes at the smaller man. “Tell me what?”

  When Max finally looked up, a thin line of blood ran down the side of his face. He turned to his left and pressed his temple into the barrel
of Kevin’s weapon. “You tell him.”

  Kevin’s hand was shaking and the vein running along the left side of his head looked like it was going to explode. He continued to hold the pistol against Max’s temple, but turned to Owen. “He’s one of them, one of Goodwin’s lackeys.” Kevin nodded toward the second man. “This one too, his name’s Billy.”

  It made sense now.

  Owen had struggled with what had happened out in the street earlier that morning, and although he told himself he didn’t have a choice, he knew he did. But it was now clear that Kevin also had a reason.

  “And the other one?”

  Kevin nodded. “Steven … yeah. And he would have done the same to you, the same to me.”

  Max nudged the weapon away from his face and glared at Owen. He again looked like he was going to laugh. “Whatever it is you’re going to do, you may as well just do it. I’m sure by now Declan has already sent the others back out. I’d say you got maybe an hour, if that.”

  Owen tucked the Glock back into his waist and motioned Kevin away. He stepped quickly to the smaller man, pulled back his balled left hand, and slammed his fist into Max’s right eye, the trail of blood now growing from the previous wound. “Declan?”

  Kevin opened his mouth to respond, but instead Thomas stepped forward. “Yes, he’s still alive.”

  “What?” Owen’s heart rate began to climb. “That’s impossible.”

  The tall young man held his head low. “No, he’s alive, he is … and I know because I was the one who saved him.”

  Owen turned to Kevin for a brief second, his friend looking like he was going to explode. And then back to Thomas he said, “Why, why would you—”

  Thomas interrupted. He lifted his eyes and now looked straight at Owen. “I found him outside our building. He was alone and looked like he had been infected. My first instinct was to let him live that way, to let him suffer for all the horrendous things he’d done. But then I noticed something different. He looked like he was in pain, like he was limping. He wasn’t all the way gone, not yet.”