Missions from the Extinction Cycle (Volume 1)

by Mark Tufo

  “Can you go down to the lower deck and get us a few waters? And maybe if there are any chips left, you can bring those too?”

  “Okay.” The boy smiled…bigger this time, and then darted by his father to the steps leading to the lower decks.

  Brian waited until his son disappeared before turning back to the other men. He looked to Dwight, leaned into the table, and then turned to Blake. “He knows what’s going on out there, he’s even seen it happen. I’d just like him to have a few days without having to think about it.”

  Blake nodded. “Makes sense.”

  Brian continued, “This thing is a mess; it doesn’t look like there’s a way to control it. Not law enforcement, not the military, not anyone.”

  “What is it—have they figured it out?”

  “There wasn’t really a whole lot of information that got out to the public; however, I had a friend in the CDC. She told me this thing was somehow related to the Ebola virus. It mutated into whatever the hell this has become.”

  Blake furrowed his brow. “You had a friend at the CDC?”

  “Yeah, but since the grid went down, communication has been all but impossible. The last I heard from her, there was a team of virologists attempting to find a way to reverse engineer this thing, find its weakness.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know, we never heard back. She and some of the others were going to be evacuated early on, but she said she didn’t know where they were going. I never did hear from her after that.”

  Blake studied his new friend. He was young and professional looking, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that gave him the impression that this man knew a thing about what had changed his neighbor, but also nothing that told him that this man was telling him anything other than the absolute truth.

  “I’m sorry, but how is it that you had a direct line to someone at the CDC? You work for the government, maybe the military?”

  Brian fought back the urge to laugh. He turned to Dwight and smiled. “No, I’m just a high school teacher. Honors Biology, ten years. Barbara, my contact at the CDC, was just an old college friend. We spoke a few times a year, but she called me the morning this thing hit the news to tell me that it looked like we may be in for something big, something we’ve never seen before.”

  “We?”

  “Us, all of us. All of humanity. Well, those of us still upright.”

  Blake looked out toward the city as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. “Those things, what are—”

  Interrupting, Brian quickly said, “Variants, they’re calling those things Variants.”

  “Catchy.”

  “Yeah, it fits.”

  “Okay, so what’s the plan? There’s obviously a reason we’re out here on the water and not being protected by large men with automatic rifles.”

  “I’m not exactly sure what the hell is happening out there, but they pretty much torched the entire city. I would guess that those things were getting the upper hand and they had no other choice.”

  “So,” Blake said, “they evacuated the city?”

  “Don’t know, but those things are everywhere, more of them every single day; it’s spreading like wildfire.”

  “How?”

  Again Brian turned to Dwight.

  Dwight motioned toward his friend and then turning back to Brian said, “I told you, he doesn’t know about any of it. I mean, if you hadn’t come along, I wouldn’t know much more than him.”

  “Blood,” Brian said, turning back to Blake. “It looks like those infected end up bleeding out because of the Ebola and are highly contagious once they do.”

  “Okay, have they figured out how to avoid this thing?”

  “Just stay away from anyone who looks like your old neighbor. Other than that, it’s anyone’s guess. And we’ve been kind of cut off out here, so any new information is going to be slow coming, but I’m okay with that. We’ve got enough food and water to last us at least another thirty days.”

  “And after that?”

  Brian’s face had changed over the last several minutes. He now appeared irritated as he again turned to Dwight. “Your friend ever look at the bright side?”

  “Bright side?” Blake slid forward in his seat and sat up tall. “Hey, I do appreciate what you’ve done for me and my friend, but from what you’ve described here today, there is no bright side, and it doesn’t sound like there’s ever gonna be one, so excuse me if I don’t share in your—”

  “DAD!”

  The boy’s enthusiastic voice carried into the sundeck, interrupting Blake’s rant.

  Brian shouted back. “Yeah buddy?”

  “Dad, there’s someone coming…another boat.”

  — 9 —

  A dirty orange and yellow skyline framed the Long Island Sound in a menacing glow as the men hurried to the rear stairs and down to the lower deck. The unidentified thirty-foot fishing boat that Brian’s son had warned of now drifted slowly over the calm waters and appeared to have cut its motor as it drew to within twenty-five feet.

  Quickly kneeling alongside Jordan, Blake placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He looked back at Dwight and then quickly over to Brian. His new friend now stood at the edge of the lower deck with a shotgun slung over his right shoulder and was motioning for his son to join him.

  Blake hadn’t seen the ominous looking weapon before this moment, and also hadn’t noticed Brian retrieving it on the way down the stairs. However, the way the former biology teacher held it told him that this may not have been the first time.

  Before the boy moved away, he turned to Blake, his smile even bigger than before—if that was even possible. He leaned in and whispered as if what he was about to tell Blake was something only for him.

  “Mr. Chambers?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re my favorite quarterback, like ever. My dad knows, but he told me not to bug you.”

  Blake had already begun to forget about his former life, even more so now that the world was falling down around him. The only thing on his mind was surviving to see another day, hell even just another hour. His time as a professional athlete was over long before the world went to hell. But now it only seemed like a distant memory, almost as if it were someone else.

  He looked out toward the burning city and then returned the boy’s smile. “Tell you what, when all this is over, I’ll take you and your dad to the stadium and we’ll throw the ball around, sound good?”

  Unable to respond, the exuberant young boy turned away from Blake and ran the short distance to his father. He pulled at his father’s shirt and pointed to Blake. “Dad, Mr. Chambers said—”

  “Gimme a minute Jordan, let me see what these people want.”

  Furrowing his brow, Blake looked to Brian and said, “I’m guessing these aren’t friends of yours?”

  “Nope,” Brian said, drawing out the word. “We haven’t had to deal with this just yet.”

  “Deal with what?”

  Brian didn’t respond. He instead continued watching the approaching boat, stepped forward to the edge of the deck, and pulled the shotgun off his shoulder. He now held it in both hands across his chest, and attempting to get a look at the individuals behind the shaded canopy, scooted his son in behind him.

  The smaller vessel continued traveling slowly forward, and as it came to within a few feet of the lower deck, two men moved out from behind the canopy with their hands in the air. Their eyes darted between the three men and the boy, and the smaller of the two began to move toward the side of his boat as Brian stepped forward.

  “Put your hands down.”

  The much smaller fishing boat came to rest with its starboard edge against the center of the lower deck. Brian waited as the two men dropped their arms to their sides and pointed the barrel of the shotgun out over the water.

  “Gentlemen we aren’t taking any passengers, so wherever it was that you were headed, you’ll just want to keep going.”

  The men looked
at one another. The larger of the two, a thirty-something, dark-haired, sinewy man, tugged at his greying beard. He turned back to face Brian, a thin smile forming at the corners of his mouth as the cracks in his weathered brown skin began to deepen. Turning his eyes down, he looked over his tattered white button down and his bloodstained charcoal trousers and said, “We can’t.”

  The man’s voice came out dry and weak. He looked back at his friend and then quickly to Brian. “Sir, we have nowhere else to go. Our boat is almost out of fuel and we haven’t eaten in days.” From his dried out, overly hollowed facial features, he appeared to be telling the truth, but something about the way he spoke the words seemed disingenuous.

  Brian shook his head. He looked around the lower deck, let out a long sigh, and turned back to the two men. “Listen guys, we’ve got our own set of problems out here and unfortunately we can’t help…I’m sorry.”

  Had Brian noticed the same thing that Blake did? Was he also skeptical of the two strangely desperate men? Did he know something that he wasn’t sharing, or was he simply trying to keep the situation from escalating? Even though Blake had been in their care for what he was told was likely close to a month, he’d only come to know the younger man and his son a few hours before. He had no way of knowing how this was going to play out.

  “We can’t go back there,” the disheveled man said. “We only just barely got out—”

  Blake leaned forward and grabbed the side of the boat. He regarded the men with a quick nod and then motioned back in the direction they’d come.

  “Where you boys comin’ from?”

  They turned their attention from Brian over to Blake. The smaller man quickly smiled. He couldn’t hide what he’d just discovered and began elbowing his larger friend as he began to laugh. The larger of the two men squinted through the waning sunlight and matched his friend’s grin.

  “Are you kidding me?” The man’s voice was different now. Gone was the weak tone and the downcast manner in which he initially spoke. It was only four words, but they came out fast and excited, as if the man had just found something he’d lost.

  As he continued, he pointed at Blake. “I’ve lived in this hell hole my entire life, been to more games than I can remember and it’s here, out on this water, after the end of the world, that I run into this guy.”

  Blake began to laugh. “Hey, I’ll bet you never—”

  The man cut him off, still not quite finished with his thought. “Blake Chambers… Blake freakin’ Chambers. How awkward is this?”

  “Awkward?” Blake said.

  “Well,” the man said, “not yet, but in the next few minutes, I’m sure it’s gonna be.”

  Blake looked the men over, attempting to get a read on just what they had in mind. The smaller of the two began shifting his weight from one leg to the other, while staring at the weapon in Brian’s hands. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

  Silence hung in the air, exaggerating the overtly uncomfortable situation. Finally stepping forward, Blake held out his right hand. “Hey guys, I’m sure we can work something out, isn’t that right Brian?”

  Before Brian had a chance to respond, the larger man stepped forward, pulled a pistol from his lower back and pointed it at him. The man’s eyes narrowed as he began to speak.

  “It’s really simple. We don’t want a damn thing you have. We don’t want your food, we don’t want your water. Hell, we don’t even want to hurt you…but we will.”

  Brian held the shotgun steady while looking from Blake to Dwight to his son and finally back to the men eight feet away. “What do you want?”

  The larger man nodded. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” He took another step forward and craned his neck to the right, attempting to make eye contact with Jordan. “My name is Victor and my friend here is Jesse. He’s quiet, but also has a bit of a temper and he’s already had a rough day, so let’s just get right to it.”

  Brian continued to grip the shotgun and had yet to move. “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

  “Calm down,” Victor said. “There’s no need for this to go somewhere it shouldn’t. All we want is a ride. This piece of crap really is just about out of gas and we need to get into the city.”

  Brian shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Well then,” Victor said, “I guess this does need to get ugly, and here I thought we’d have a nice—”

  “No, that’s not…it’s not…the city, there isn’t anything to go back to. You had to have known, I mean the sky has been lit up for days.”

  “Yes, I know. But I’m still gonna need you to get us there.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Brian is it?”

  Brian nodded.

  “Okay Brian, right now I’m asking nicely, which I don’t normally do. But given the fact that if I shoot you and your friends here, there is a pretty damn good chance that you’ll shoot me back. And I really don’t feel like getting shot. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and it’s been a long day. I’m also pretty sure your friends here don’t want to die today either, so let’s just do away with the chit-chat and get this beast moving toward the city. Whatta ya say?”

  — 10 —

  Growing closer to the city, the air out on the open sundeck was much warmer than in the secluded cove out past Manhasset Bay. The air reeked of burning embers, rotting flesh, and something only comparable to spoiled milk. The noxious combination now appeared to have taken up residence in their nasal cavities, and breathing through their mouths had long since become a monotonous chore. The night was already long, but under the current conditions, it seemed like an eternity.

  Blake sat with Dwight, Jordan, and the man they’d come to know as Jesse. The small man had only spoken twice in the four hours since leaving the bay, and as the group of four watched the smoldering city grow closer, Blake continued to try to draw him out.

  “I think we may want to head inside, get the doors and windows sealed off. Jesse, what do you think?”

  The small man with thin lips, coarse wiry hair, and a set of eyes dark enough to blend into the night shook his head. He stood from his chair, walked to the end of the deck, and turned toward the city.

  “We need to keep our eyes open. After we pass the 59th Street Bridge, it’ll be on our right.”

  Dwight pushed away from the table, stood, and started toward the interior cabin. “What will?”

  “Don’t worry about it, we have friends waiting for us.”

  Dwight stopped at the door. “No, you don’t. There isn’t anyone left in the city. They’re all either dead or turned into one of those things. And you’d know that if you’d seen what happened out there.”

  The little man pulled a pistol from his waistband and pointed it in Dwight’s direction. “We know what we’re doing, and if you had any brains in that big ass head of yours, you’d be begging me to take you with us.”

  Blake had very little knowledge of handguns; however, the one Jesse was now pointing at his friend looked an awful lot like the one Victor had used to convince Brian to allow him and his friend aboard. They could have been a matching pair.

  From his seat at the weathered teak table, he’d be guessing at the gun’s make. Although Blake figured it to be a nine millimeter and as the small man waved it in his direction, the cloudless night reflected the moon off its stainless steel finish.

  “Where?” Blake asked. “Where on earth could you and Victor be going that is any safer than out here on the water? I can’t imagine that anything in the city is worth risking your life for. Seems like a suicide mission, if you ask me.”

  Jesse smiled for the first time all night. “I’ve always hated football.”

  Blake motioned for Jordan and pushed away from his seat. “What does that have to do—”

  “You probably think that your opinion matters. That I should listen to you because of who you are… I’m sorry, because of who you used to be. But you’re wrong. No one cares about who you were, who he was,
who I was, not anymore. Now is just about now, what you can do and what you can take. There is no one coming to save you, or me, or anyone else. You just have to figure it out for yourself.”

  Blake motioned toward the interior and leaned down, whispered to Jordan. “Go inside with Dwight, the smell out here is getting worse.” Then to Dwight he said, “Find out from Brian how much longer, I’d like to help Victor and Jesse here get on their way.”

  Dwight chuckled as he gave a thumbs-up and followed Jordan through the door. “Same old Blake.”

  They disappeared behind the stained glass doors and Blake paused a beat before quickly moving away from the table and flipping his chair over backward in the process. He quickened his pace as he crossed the deck and moved to Jesse. The smaller man in turn raised his pistol and placed it against Blake’s chest.

  “You don’t like football?”

  Jesse grinned. “No, I think it’s a joke. I think you’re a joke. How many games did you miss last year because of that injury?”

  “Listen little man, if you didn’t have that gun—”

  “But I do, so why don’t you back up?”

  Blake looked down at the nine millimeter resting against his sternum and then back at Jesse. He wasn’t sure whether the nausea rising in his stomach was from the thinly-veiled threat or if his body was once again choosing the most inopportune time to self-destruct. And as the distant white noise began to fill his ears, he knew what was about to happen.

  “BACK UP MAN!” The smaller man was now shouting, but Blake couldn’t make sense of exactly what he wanted. The words came to him in an order he was unable to decode and as he felt his knees beginning to weaken, he leaned into the smaller man and attempted a plea for help.

  “I have…you need…get Dwight.”

  Jesse lowered the pistol and backed away, allowing Blake to crash to the deck. The smaller man stared at him with a puzzled look before turning and setting the weapon on the lounge chair to his right. Kneeling alongside the six-foot six-inch former professional athlete, the awkwardness of the situation came flooding in.