The Dead Years (Volumes 4-6)

by Jeff Olah

  24

  He was certain they had checked every area of the house, although he now realized something was missed, something big. Other than a few moonlit areas that were all near windows, they couldn’t see more than a few feet at a time. Mason wasn’t about to start making excuses at this point, although they needed to be much more careful. The crying was faint, although it seemed evident the person wanted to be found. From the tone, they sensed it was a woman and just beyond the door they were about to find out.

  Sliding the pantry door aside, the woman, in her late forties, didn’t jump. She didn’t scream and at first didn’t even look up. She sat and continued to softly whimper into the bloodstained dish towel that had become her only companion in the ransacked food locker. She sat against the back wall amongst the tattered cereal boxes, smashed tuna fish cans and neatly labeled Tupperware containers. The two friends looked at each other and back to the woman, who finally raised her head and spoke. “You need to leave right now. RIGHT NOW! When they get back, they’re going to kill me and they’ll kill you too… GO NOW!”

  Pulling up against the shelving, the woman stood, tossed the towel to the floor and darted past both men, heading for the giant floor to ceiling windows at the rear of the home. Mason was the first to follow and caught her as she tripped over a downed lamp in the living room. She pulled her arm from his grip and continued to the corner. “Look… down the beach. They’re coming back, I told you.”

  “What… Where?” Mason said.

  “Look, two homes down near the water.” The woman said, pointing to the left.

  Five men in total, most with high-powered LED flashlights, were standing in a half circle, watching as a half-dozen Feeders moved slowly through the wet sand. The three innocent victims moved farther into the surf as the men urged the monsters toward them. One of the would-be victims, a twenty-something male, attempted an escape and was quickly introduced to the power of the Glock Nine Millimeter handgun as his adversary fired a single round into his calf. Twisting as he fell into the shallow water, he was overtaken by three of the Feeders as the five men cheered.

  “They are animals, you two need to go back to wherever you came from. Those men have killed everyone on this beach and they’re coming here when they finish!”

  “What… how do you know?” Mason asked.

  The sweat ran down her neck and she shook as if she’d been without a cigarette for way too long. Her silk blouse, torn in places and stained in others, hung off her like it was made for a person twice her size. Her bruised and battered face spoke to the horrific events she’d seen in the past few days. “They’ve hit every house on the beach and this one’s next. They haven’t found me yet, but they won’t stop until they do. Everyone else is gone… Everyone! They’re going to kill me, I know it.”

  She flinched as Mason rested his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t turn to look at him. Instead she continued to watch the men on the beach as they cornered the second of their victims, a middle-aged heavyset man, between the crashing surf and the incessant Feeders. The man tried swimming out into the ocean and was immediately shot in the back from less than twenty feet away. With the next wave he was pushed back to shore and served up for the remaining Feeders to lay waste to.

  “GO…GO NOW! YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!” She began pushing Mason and pointing to the garage door.

  “What’s your name?” Mason asked.

  “What, why do you…”

  “Mason, no time. We need to go,” Randy said.

  “You’re right, take her to the RV and get it started. I’ll be two steps behind.”

  “She’s coming with us? Are you sure, what about Justin?”

  “Keep her away from him… and yes, she’s coming with us. There’s no other way. Now GO!”

  Randy put his arm around the woman and without further debate the pair headed for the garage. Just before moving out of sight, Mason heard her tell Randy that they’d even shot her dog.

  Turning back to the windows, Mason pulled open the sliding glass door leading to the oversized balcony and stepped out. The night air felt thick on his face, almost wet and the beach below was colored in dark shades of tan in multiple spots from the previous downpour. The five men moved away from the Feeders each time they got close and taunted the only remaining victim. From this distance she appeared to be in her fifties and athletic. She was visibly worn and was only seconds from being pulled down by her pursuers.

  With his good hand on his injured shoulder, Mason pushed his thumb deep into his previously injured shoulder and brought about a pain that nearly sent him to his knees. The outer edge of the glass trimmed balcony had two folding chairs that he moved back against the house and leaned on the wood trimmed railing. For now he was invisible to these men. The same sort that tried to take his life only weeks before on a grass field with his wife and child as witnesses.

  The pain radiating outward from his injury brought with it the anger he felt awakening in the sporting goods store. Dealing with it then wasn’t an option. Too many horrific events had taken place since he witnessed his friend Tom being eaten alive in the parking lot of his own gym. He needed some way to let this go, to atone for everything… Not least of all Justin.

  Pulling back the slider to assure a round was ready; he raised the pistol and gripped it tightly between both hands. Exhaling slowly, the faint sound of the RV coming to life broke his concentration and turned the attention of the men on the beach back toward the house. One of them, the biggest of the bunch barked orders at the rest. One by one the Feeders that were being used as attack dogs were shot in the head, leaving them to rest in the shallow shore break.

  The woman being tortured by the men broke free and started up the beach. Less than twenty yards into her escape the men opened fire throwing her body violently forward. As she came to rest face down in the sand, Mason sent his response with three pulls of the trigger.

  The familiar stench of scorched gunpowder danced into the night as the first round kicked up sand just feet from its intended target. The next buried itself just past the shoreline and Mason was officially a sixty-six percent failure. The third and last projectile launched from the balcony, rocketed through the man nearest the house making contact just below his belt line and scattering pieces of his pelvis along the sand. Those remaining all dove to the ground, with the exception of the large man. He’d gotten a fix on Mason and pointed to the balcony.

  “LEVEL IT!”

  25

  Forced to sit in the passenger seat, the woman brought onboard by Randy pounded the dashboard until the glove box popped open, sending its contents to the floor below. The savages were on to them and she just couldn’t imagine another minute in this hell. Within seconds the area had become a war zone. From inside of the RV and positioned at the front of the house there wasn’t much they could do. The sky lit up like the Fourth of July and the sound of bullets racing by had the group frantically calling for Mason.

  Putting the RV into reverse and starting to back down the driveway, Randy flipped the headlights on, no longer worried about being spotted. As they rolled backward, April shot to the front, confused as to what was now happening. “What are you doing? We’re not leaving him.”

  “No, we’re not. I’m pulling into the street and going to get him. Once we’re back we need to get out of here fast.”

  “You’re leaving?” the woman asked from the passenger seat.

  Attempting to calm her, Randy’s attention turned to the illuminated garage door as he said, “I’ll… be back… I promise.”

  A single word, hastily spray painted along the garage door held no meaning to most that would pass through this neighborhood. To April it was a sign that her mother and father may have made it out of the area safe.

  BLACKMORE

  These nine black letters raced through his mind as he stopped the RV, shifted into park and stepped out to retrieve his friend. Randy knew what it meant. He knew April. He knew her father. He just hadn’t seen it until
now. It became clear, even if it hadn’t before this very moment, what his job was and what role he played in this family. He no longer worried about being a burden or detriment. He was here to protect and deliver them.

  Darting to the right side of the house, Randy made his way through the garage and stopped at the door leading to the interior. He spotted Mason crouched behind the giant island that adorned the center of the kitchen trying to reload his weapon. Attempting to get his attention Randy tossed a small screwdriver from the wall to the ground near his friend. “Pssst,” he said.

  Looking over just as one of the attackers came through the balcony door; Randy downed the first man before he even realized there was someone other than Mason in the room. The second man stopped short, looked in and emptied his weapon into the house, luckily not coming close to hitting either of them.

  While their adversary stopped to reload, Randy made his way over to Mason, helped him up and continued walking. “Get to the RV Mason… Now!”

  “Randy what are you…”

  The man who was hidden off to right, still fumbling to reload his weapon looked up to see Randy now standing at the door. “You’re already dead,” he said. “You just don’t…”

  Before the man could spit out the final words of his hateful diatribe, Randy put a round in his chest, blasting him backward and off the balcony.

  Hurrying down the driveway, Randy looked back again, burning the image from the garage door into memory. As he boarded the RV, Mason was already in the driver’s seat slamming the gas pedal to the floor. The others were screaming at him to drive and peering out the windshield. Randy stepped around Savannah and noticed another vehicle at the end of the block coming toward them. “Mason, what’s that?”

  “The last two, I assume.”

  “What? I thought we just took care of them…”

  “They scattered on the beach and two of them went the other way. They must have run for their car.”

  Returning to her still unconscious son, April shouted over the noise from the rear of the RV. “What now? Where are we going?”

  Turning left at the main street, Mason watched the side mirror as the attackers also turned and began closing the gap. “I don’t know, but we gotta figure it out quick.”

  Randy reached for the largest of the three black duffle bags and set it carefully on the floor next to him. “Get to the airport and try to find the helicopter.” He dug through the bag and pulled out two large handheld explosives.

  “The airport?” Mason asked.

  “Yep, it’s our only chance. If the helicopter stopped for fuel, we may have a chance to catch them off guard and nab it.”

  “You want to steal a helicopter?” Savannah asked.

  “We’re just going to borrow it, I’ll bring it back.”

  With less than a mile before the airport, the bright orange Dodge Challenger flew into view and just as quickly the passenger started firing from the open window, striking the RV multiple times. One round tore through the rear cabin, implanting itself in the wall just above April’s head and shattering the rear window.

  “Everybody get down on the floor,” Randy said as he moved to the main door, pulled the safety pin, released the handle and waited two full seconds before dropping it onto the road. It skipped a few times on the pavement and stopped near the shoulder as their pursuers approached. In a flash of light, immediately followed by the deafening shockwave, the explosion caught Randy off guard and he tumbled backward into the main cabin. The Challenger rocked sideway onto two wheels and then back to the ground, still growing closer by the second.

  Rounding the last turn leading to the airfield, Mason cut the wheel and on the wet asphalt the RV slid to accommodate the force pulling it in the opposite direction. Keeping focus on the road and the only one in the RV not lying prone on the floor or in the rear bed, Mason shouted as Randy readied another device while still flat on his back. “Pardon the stupid question, but a helicopter? You know how to fly those?”

  “I think so; I’ve done it a few times.”

  “You think so? Great…”

  The Challenger growled as it pulled to within twenty yards of the bumper, muzzle flashes coming in successive bursts from the passenger window. With the main door still open and the world whizzing by, Randy grabbed the table and pulled himself to stand. With his one hand he again pulled the pin from the explosive and looked down at his watch. Releasing the handle, he counted to three as the hand holding the grenade began to tremble.

  With no time left, and the Challenger within spitting distance, he threw the explosive overhand. It bounced once within inches of the car and lodged in the underpinnings. Randy moved away from the door just as his device showed its effectiveness. The sound was muffled although the reaction wasn’t. The rapidly accelerating vehicle shot fire from under its belly as pieces of charred metal pelted the area. The RV began to pull away as the Challenger rolled to a stop on three flat tires.

  Again checking the mirrors as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, Mason noticed flames beginning to overtake the Challenger as the attackers exited their vehicle.

  26

  The gate ahead was supposed to be effective at keeping anyone not properly credentialed from entering the back lot of the airfield, although today it only served as a minor snag in the long list of trials this group had faced since they came together. The flames still within sight but fading quickly, Mason pushed the RV to sixty miles per hour as they approached the rear entrance. “Everyone hold on to something,” Randy said kneeling next to the driver’s seat. “This may get bumpy.”

  The chain-link barrier exploded as the RV rocketed into the barren yard, sending a single crack spidering from the right corner of the windshield up into Mason’s line of sight. Pulling in between the two large hangars where they anticipated the helicopter would have set down, Mason rolled to a stop and shifted into park. It was nowhere in sight. Looking the cab over, he grabbed the syringes from the cup holder and turned to Randy. “This is your plan?”

  “Well…” Randy said.

  “Well what? I’m not sure you thought this through. We have those psychopaths from the beach chasing us. We have no idea how to get out of here and we’ll be out of gas in minutes. We’re screwed.”

  Randy stood, turned to the mini-fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and opened the main door. Stepping out onto the cracked concrete, he didn’t wait for Mason to follow, although he knew he would. Stepping over puddles as he walked, Randy made his way to the end of the hangar and stopped, leaning against the cold steel wall. By the time Mason caught up, Randy had pulled the top off the water, taken a long drink and then handed it to him. Mason finished off the bottle and began to toss it aside.

  Randy stopped him and held his index finger over his own lips, then pointed to the fueling station less than two hundred yards away. The helicopter sat unmanned and lifeless, waiting to take flight. A knowing grin slowly moved across Mason’s face as he watched Randy running through the plan in his mind.

  “OK… what is it?” Mason asked.

  “Hear me out… We’ve been running since this whole mess started and it’s reasonable to say that our plans for finding somewhere safe to hide have backfired.”

  “Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.”

  “We need protection. We need others. We need to get out of the open and find someone we can trust,” Randy said.

  “No kidding… easier said than done.”

  With the helicopter just on the other side of the airfield and the occupants nowhere to be found, the two men headed back to the RV to discuss their plan with the others. Mason was still unclear on exactly what Randy had in mind for the group, although his brief rundown of their current situation was spot on.

  Savannah spoke first. “What are we doing? I’m beat and need to sleep, although…”

  Randy, realizing that time was not in their favor, interrupted. “Long story short is so far we have failed miserably in finding safety. Hell, we don’t even
know if it still exists. The chances of us finding somewhere we’d be safe, much less somewhere we’d be welcome, are zero. At best it was always just a roll of the dice and possibly much, much worse… as we’ve already found out. We need to find people we know, people we trust… protection.”

  “That’s not even remotely possible,” April said, as she continued to monitor Justin from the foot of the bed.

  “Maybe… but maybe not,” Randy continued. “What if there was a place where we knew someone, someone important?”

  “Come on; spit it out already… enough with the games,” Mason said as he peered through the main door, checking the gate they just plowed through.

  “We’re going to Blackmore and I’m taking that chopper! We know at least one person there… Well, at least a few of us do.”

  “Blackmore?” April said.