As his instincts kicked into overdrive, Tony asked, “Where’s the pilot?”
“I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. All I could think about was you,” David said with a helpless shrug.
“We should look for him,” Tony said. He moved toward the front of the plane but paused when another flash of agony nearly brought him to his knees. “Ah!”
“Are you alright?” David asked, grabbing his shoulder.
“My head hurts. My ribs too,” he said, sucking in a deep breath.
“What do I do?” David asked, his expression anxious.
“Nothing. Not right now, anyway,” Tony said. “I’ll survive, but first, we have to grab what we can and get away from this place.”
“Alright. I’ll get our stuff,” David said, scrambling through the wreckage. He yanked open the overnight compartment and pulled out their luggage. Tossing a bag over each shoulder, he nodded at Tony. “Lead the way.”
“Stick close to my side,” he replied with a curt nod.
With one hand pressed to his injured side, Tony moved to the front of the plane, using the seats on either side of the aisle for support. Around him, the plane groaned and complained as it settled into place. Sparks flew from a broken light, and a chill breeze cut whistled around the corners. He spotted the pilot slumped over the controls and called out. “Hey, are you alright?”
The pilot didn’t answer, and Tony hobbled closer with David on his heels. Exchanging a look with David, Tony reached out and shook the man’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
The pilot lay unmoving, and Tony tipped him back in his seat. The man’s head flopped around on his neck, his eyes staring into the unknown. Unseeing.
Dead.
The cause of death was clear. A deep gash marred the pilot’s neck, and blood covered the front of his shirt. It pooled around his feet and soaked the controls. With a grimace of distaste, Tony reached for the radio. “Ground control, come in. Ground control. Over.”
Nothing sounded over the line but static, and he tried again. “Ground control. Do you copy? I repeat, do you copy?”
After a few more tries, he dropped the mike. “It’s no use. The radio must’ve been damaged in the crash.”
“So, we’re on our own?” David said.
“That’s right. We’re on our own,” Tony replied, his tone grim.
The pilot was dead, the radio was damaged, and no one knew where they were. He doubted the crew members were still alive, either. Odds were they’d died when torn from the airplane back there. It was safer to assume they had only themselves to rely on.
After a moment’s thought, he looked around. “Search the wreckage. See what you can find.”
“There isn’t much here,” David said.
“Just look for anything we can use on the journey home,” Tony added, searching the pilot’s pockets.
“We’re going home?” David asked.
“We’re closer to Prime and the Exiles than we are to Vancouver,” Tony confirmed. “But it will be a long and dangerous journey. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Got it,” David said, picking through the wreckage.
Working fast, they gathered what they could and stuffed it into their backpacks. There wasn’t a lot to find inside the cabin. A few lengths of wire, a couple of straps, some bottles of water, and their bags, but they took it all.
“Is that it?” David asked once they’d finished.
“Looks like it,” Tony confirmed, moving toward the exit.
“What now?”
“Now we treat our wounds. We can’t go running around out there smelling like blood,” Tony said, opening his backpack. He pulled out his first-aid kit and removed a bandage. After strapping his ribs, he washed and disinfected the cut on his head. “Is it bad?”
David prodded the cut. “Nah, it looks okay. You don’t need stitches.”
Tony handed him a bandaid. “Stick that on, will you?”
David obeyed, and Tony swallowed a couple of painkillers to tide him over.
“What about you?” he asked, studying David.
“I’m good. Just a couple of bumps and bruises.”
“You lucky critter,” Tony muttered.
He eyed the sun, calculating how much time had passed since the crash. It wasn’t a lot, but he felt the pressure mounting within. It’s time to go. Now. Before it’s too late. “Let’s move.”
He opened the door and shoved it open. Bright sunlight streamed into the cabin, and he shaded his eyes with one hand. Peering out into the field, he studied their surroundings. They were on the edge of rocky clearing, and the forest pressed in on either side. Nothing stirred within its shadowy recesses, but that didn’t mean they were alone.
“Are you ready?” he asked, glancing at David.
“I guess so,” David answered, but his cheeks were pale.
“We’ll be fine, kid.”
“I know,” David said
“Just stay close to me. Once we’re out in the open, we need to move fast,” Tony said. “Are you armed?”
“Yeah, I brought my crossbow with me,” David said, pointing to the weapon slung across his back. He patted his hip. “And I’ve got my knife.”
“Good,” Tony said, gripping the handle of his ax. He also had a machete and a knife on the other hip. One could never have too many blades.
Before he could lose his nerve, he jumped through the open door. He landed hard and uttered a curse as pain shot through his ribs. But there was no time to waste. After a quick look around, he jogged toward the treeline followed by David.
When they reached a small rocky outcropping, he dropped down behind it. David joined him a second later, and they scanned the area. There were still no signs of life, and they decided to chance the final distance to forest.
“Stick close to me,” Tony warned, wondering what hid beneath the canopy.
“No need to worry about that. I intend to be closer to you than your own mama was at your birth,” David replied with a grin.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Tony asked, watching the younger man. He was gratified to see David looking pale, but determined.
“Do I have a choice?” David said.
“Good point,” Tony conceded
David had hit it on the head. They didn’t have a choice. Not if either of them wanted to get back home in one piece. As he prepared to cross the final distance to the trees, he uttered a small prayer. It wasn’t much, but it said what needed to be said. It was an Irish blessing he’d learned at his father’s knee, and it never failed to cheer him up:
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields and,
Until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
May God grant you always…
A sunbeam to warm you,
A moonbeam to charm you,
A sheltering angel, so nothing can harm you.
May the Saints protect you
And bless you today
And may troubles ignore you
Each step of the way.
God be on your road every way you go.
Epilogue
After a long night spent planning and organizing for their trip to the northern facility, Mauve arranged for a car to drop them off at the boarding house. They were greeted at the door by a stern Mrs. Potts, who ushered them into the kitchen. “Come in, my dears. Sit down and relax. Let me pour you each a cuppa.”
Rogue lowered her tired body into the nearest chair and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Mrs. Potts. She took a sip, only to realize it was tea. “Er… do you have any coffee?”
“No, dear. I don’t keep the stuff,” Mrs. Potts said, shaking her head. “It’s a vile brew. Now drink your tea while I make you something to eat. You must be starving.”
“I am hungry, but I’m ev
en more tired,” Rogue admitted.
“Of course, you are, dear. Being up all night because of that mean man. And with you being fresh out of the hospital too,” Mrs. Potts said, fussing over her.
“That’s true,” Rogue said, looking at Seth. “So much for sightseeing today.”
“Yeah, that’s out,” Jessica said, dragging a hand across her eyes. “We leave at dawn tomorrow, which means we need to rest.”
“Yeah, but I’m still disappointed,” Rogue said.
“Don’t worry. All those places will still be here when we get back,” Jessica said.
“I know,” Rogue said with a sigh.
She finished her tea with a grimace of distaste, but perked up when Mrs. Potts handed her a big bowl of oatmeal. A thick blob of butter and a squirt of honey sweetened the deal, and she dug in with gusto. Afterward, she pushed her empty plate away with a groan of satisfaction. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts. That really hit the spot.”
“It was my pleasure, dear. Now go to bed. All of you,” Mrs. Potts said, ushering them out of the kitchen. “I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Mrs. Potts,” Bear said, flashing the old lady a winning smile.
“Off with you, you big lump,” Mrs. Potts said, her face turning the color of beetroot. She bustled down the hall, muttering something about doing their laundry. “I’ll make sure everything is ready for your trip in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Rogue said, amused to see the older woman so smitten.
“Ready for bed?” Seth asked.
“I am so ready,” Rogue replied, leaning against him. “See you tonight, Bear and Jessica. Sleep well.”
“Night,” Bear rumbled.
“You too, sweetie,” Jessica said with a wave.
They ducked into their room and shut the door while Rogue hung back. “Since when do they sleep together?”
“Uh, ever since we got here,” Seth said. “I guess they decided to take it to the next level.”
“About time,” Rogue said, ducking into the room. “I mean, I knew they were together, but it’s nice to know it’s official.”
She sat down on the bed and peeled off her shoes and socks. Flexing her aching feet, she sighed. “Seth?”
“Yes, love?”
“How do you really feel about this… mission?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, getting undressed as well.
“It’s sure to be dangerous,” Rogue said, peeling off her jeans. She crawled into bed and drew the blankets up to her chin.
“I’m sure it will. Mauve wouldn’t be so eager for us to do it if it wasn’t,” Seth said, climbing in next to her.
Rogue gazed into Seth’s eyes. “Do you think we made the right decision?”
“I don’t think we had a choice,” Seth said. “Are you scared?”
Rogue thought about it. “In a way, yes. I’d be stupid not to recognize the risk.”
“But?” Seth prompted.
“But, as long as I’ve got you by my side, I can face anything,” Rogue said. “It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is.”
Seth cupped her face and smiled. “I love you so much. More than you could ever know.”
“I know, and I love you too,” Rogue said. She closed her eyes and nuzzled his palm, breathing in his scent.
Seth drew her into his arms and pulled her close. Their bodies melded together as one, and her sore muscles melted into the soft mattress. It was hard to imagine anything more perfect, and she fought the exhaustion that dragged at her eyelids.
“Go to sleep, my love,” Seth said when he realized she was still awake. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“I know, but I don’t want this moment to end,” she said. “I want it to be like this forever.”
“It will be,” he said, holding her tight. “We’ll carry this with us wherever we go. That’s a promise.”
Soothed, Rogue allowed herself to drift away. The morrow would bring its own set of trials and tribulations, but for now, this was all that mattered.
The End.
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Children of the Apocalypse
Chapter 1 - Morgan
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The steady thudding of his fists on the door had become a part of her. Like the beating of her heart, she relied on the sound to keep her sane. It prevented her from screaming, reminding her she was still alive. For the moment, at least.
For what seemed like an eternity, Morgan huddled in the shower. With her arms wrapped around her knees, she listened to the constant crashes interspersed with frustrated hisses. An occasional drop of cold water from the showerhead dripped onto her back. She might have sat there forever if a new sound hadn’t joined the first.
“No! No, no, no,” she cried, jumping to her feet.
The wood was splintering around the lock at a rapid rate. It wouldn’t last much longer. Raging adrenaline triggered a desperate need for survival. She scanned the small bathroom for a weapon. Her eyes landed on the shower rail.
Morgan grabbed it and shook off the curtain, ripping the plastic stoppers from the ends. She barely had time to ready herself before the door burst inwards with a shuddering crash.
Immediately, Brian was upon her, moving fast with hands outstretched and teeth bared in a vicious grin. Growls sawed through his throat, and his eyes were bloodshot and crazed. She gripped the rail and thrust it into his chest. He staggered, regained his balance and lunged again.
Morgan gasped, stumbling backward. Her mind slipped into pure terror. It was a scene from her worst nightmares. Again, she stabbed him with the pipe, but the blow skimmed off his shoulder. He grabbed her, digging his fingers into her arms with brutal strength while snapping at her face.
She pushed against his chest with the pipe held in both hands as a shield, trying to keep those teeth at a distance. He slammed her up against the wall. Pain exploded through her head as it smashed against the tiles. He had her in a death grip, bloody lips a mere breath from her face.
“What’s wrong with you?” she screamed. “Please stop! It’s me, Morgan.”
Time slowed as she stared into his eyes, searching for a sign that he was still human, still the man she loved, but his eyes were empty. Brian was gone.
Fear and determination lent her strength. With a great shove, Morgan pushed him away, kicking him in the stomach to gain distance. She lifted the rail and used it as a spear, aiming for his throat.
The metal end tore into the soft flesh, impaling him. Clotted, black blood spurted from the wound and splashed onto her chest. She pinned him against the opposite wall and slid him around like a dog on a leash until she stood with her back to the broken bathroom door.
Her newfound strength waned. With no idea what to do, Morgan bolted. Her bare feet slapped a staccato beat on the floor, echoed by Brian’s heavier tread. She slid around a corner and headed for the front door, silk pajamas billowing behind her. She slammed up against it and tore at the deadbolt with frantic fingers. With seconds to spare, she unlocked it and stumbled through, pulling the door shut as his body co
nnected with a crash.
Morgan stumbled back on legs turned to water and stared at the peeling paint on the wood. Brian growled with anger, and she flinched as the now-familiar beat of his fists filled the air. However, the bathroom door had been locked while the front door was not. The seconds ticked by as she waited.
Waited for him to open the door.
Waited for him to find another way out.
Waited for death.
Her husband had turned into a monster, and nothing made sense anymore. After a while, however, it became evident he didn’t know how to turn the knob. Nor did he have the intelligence left to look for another way out.
In the fresh air, Morgan fought to gain control of her body. Her heartbeat slowed, and she noticed her surroundings for the first time. Standing there on the front patio in her pajamas, she shivered and folded her arms across her body. What the hell is going on? What happened to Brian?
Until today, Morgan would never have believed him capable of harm. With searching fingers, she touched the marks his hands had left. It hurt, the flesh bruised. The back of her head was tender and swollen.
Morgan turned and stared out into the street. It was chaos. The whole neighborhood was going to hell. She stumbled across the lawn to get a closer look. Were there more people as sick as her husband? Was this a disease? Something that drove them crazy? It was the only explanation her frozen mind would accept.
Whatever it was, it was spreading with the ferocity of wildfire. A car sped around the corner, tires screeching. The driver never spared her a glance, and she was too numb to care.
To her left, a trio of sick people cornered a woman and ripped away at her flesh. The agonizing screams tore at Morgan’s heart before they were abruptly cut off. More bodies lay scattered around on the immaculate green lawns of their front yards.
Primordial Earth: Book 7 (The Extinction Series - A Prehistoric, Post-Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi Thriller) Page 13