The Ark Series (Book 2): The Ark of Attrition

by Scott Kotrous

  Simon’s rage overtakes him and he goes over to Marshal and grabs him by his shirt and pulls him up out of his chair. “You’re not goin’ near my son, do you hear me! You’re not going near him!”

  “Simon—Simon, please! Let me go! I need to determine if the strain did in fact bond with his DNA! We must know for sure!”

  “Over my dead body. Do you hear me, over my dead fucking body!” He drops Marshal into his chair and backs away.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Simon. You are one of my oldest and dearest friends, and I would never put your son in harms way. But your son’s blood could contain cells that could lead to a cure for this. Don’t you see how important your son is? He could be the savior of this world. But we won’t know for sure unless we test him.”

  Simon pulls his pistol from his vest, cocks it, and puts it to Marshals head. “You go near my son and I will fucking kill you. Don’t you see, Marshal! This is not going to happen. I will not allow you to turn my son into a human fucking lab rat.”

  “Simon—Simon, get a hold of yourself. I don’t want any harm to come to your son. Please, lower your weapon!”

  He presses the muzzle into his forehead and pushes him back with it. “We will only stay a day or two tops, just because everyone is exhausted and need to rest. But once they are fine, we will be on our way.”

  “Where will you go, back to Golden and that tomb you built below your house?”

  “I have nothing else to say to you, and I suggest you stay far away from my son, or your wife will be burying your body in the backyard. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal, Simon, crystal.”

  Simon holsters his handgun and walks out of the room.

  Chapter 16

  Maggie violently wakes in the middle of the night from an unknown sound coming from outside. She soon realizes it’s gunfire and is immediately overcome by fear of what could be out there. And once she notices a faint glow coming from her windows, that fear grows even more terrifying. Moments later, she can feel Kristie wake in the same way, gasping as she sits up and grabs Maggie’s arm.

  Maggie reaches for the lighter on the table, lights the candle, and shines it on Kristie’s face. The look of terror on her face solidifies her thoughts on the situation—what the fuck is that!

  Sam and Jen rush into the room swinging a flashlight before jumping into bed, obviously scared to death. Maggie sets the candle down and then tries to grab the flashlight but their spastic movements make it hard to get ahold of.

  “Turn the damn flashlight off, and shut the hell up!” Maggie finally gets ahold of the flashlight and turns it off. “We must have lost power because the steel reinforcements deactivated. So be quiet you two; are you insane? That’s gunfire out there, and we don’t want whoever’s shooting to know we’re here!”

  Right then, the girls realize what they are doing and they quickly stop making noise. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps come stomping up the stairs, followed by another reckless flashlight shining around the room. Eric shines the light on the girls and then on the window. Maggie lunges out of bed like a frog and grabs the flashlight on her way to the ground.

  Maggie covers the beam and fumbles for the switch to turn it off. “Has everyone lost their minds! Are you trying to get us killed!” Maggie gets off the ground and looks at Eric with a dumbfounded look on his face that’s soon replaced with a realization of his stupidity.

  He drops his head but then quickly alerts himself toward the candle. “What about the candle? They can see that, can’t they!” He starts to walk in that direction, but Maggie stops him. “The window shades will block the candlelight, but it won’t block a flashlight shining on it! Now everyone just be silent and stop moving about, we need to find out what’s going on outside. It sounds like it’s coming from Brock’s house.”

  They stand there in silence as the gunfire soon stops but then turns into the sound of yelling and screaming. They look at each other in the dim light, hoping someone has a clue as to what to do. Maggie tiptoes across the room and gets up against the wall next to the window. She pulls the shade back just enough to see out, and is instantly surprised by her visibility—the snow just a light flurry. She can’t see any movement from the house, but jumps at the sound of two pops and muzzle flashes coming from a small gap in a window. A male scream prompts her to move to the other side of the window to try to get a better look but can only see a small portion of the side of his house. She quickly moves back to the other side just to catch a glimpse of three individuals leaving the backdoor carrying something in their arms.

  And then silence, the kind of silence that makes the unknowing grit their teeth in anticipation of not knowing what’s about to happen. The heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart is all she hears as she stands there trembling in fear of what’s out there—and what could come knocking at their door.

  Her racing heart slowly begins to gain control of itself, and her throbbing pulse begins to slow. She again looks back at the dimly lit faces all staring at her, all looking for answers that she just can’t provide. And then she hears something, a faint sound of a voice coming from downstairs—muffled—broken.

  Maggie immediately springs to life once she realizes what it is. “The radio! It’s Brock, he’s calling from the walkie-talkie!” She darts across the room and finds the flashlight on the ground, turns it on, and shines it on the ground. “Downstairs, get to the walkie-talkie!”

  She pushes past Eric and Nate not moving and scurries down the stairs with everyone close behind. She gets to the living room and sees the walkie-talkie on the coffee table and stops, when it sounds.

  “Help—please help me—”

  She vaults over the couch and reaches for the radio, but hits it with her hand and sends it flying off the table. She tries not to panic as she crawls on all fours around the table and finds the radio on the ground. She picks up the radio, frantically pressing the sides trying desperately to find the button. “Brock—Brock, is that you? It’s Maggie. Are you alright?”

  She waits for a response but is only met with two words . . . “Help—me.”

  “We’re coming, Brock! Don’t worry, we’re coming!” She drops the radio and searches for the flashlight. She picks up the flashlight, jumps up from all fours, and shines the light in everyone’s faces, forcing them to flinch. She moves around the couch purposely not looking at anyone—afraid at what they might say. She runs into the foyer and starts putting on her snow gear. She glances up at everyone looking at each other, not saying a word, and not doing anything.

  Eric walks over to her and puts his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to do this, Maggie, it’s not safe out there, and whoever was doing the shooting could come back, not to mention we’re not even sure they left.”

  Maggie shrugs his hand off and continues to get dressed. “Leave me alone, Eric. He sounds like he’s dying over there, so I’m not looking for your approval, just stay out of my way.”

  Nate walks over and stands next to Eric. “Maggie, think about this, Eric’s right, they may still be there.”

  “Fine, then you pussy’s can stay, now get out of my way since I’m obviously the only one with the balls to help him.”

  Kristie pushes herself right between them and joins Maggie in getting her snow clothes on. “You guys make me sick; someone asked for help and you’re standing around contemplating the ramifications. Oh—but I’m sure if he had a bowl to smoke you’d be all gun-ho to help.”

  Both guys drop their heads and then look at each other, unsure what to do. The two girls finish putting their clothes on and they each grab a rifle leaning against the wall. Maggie moves to the door and begins unlocking the door when Eric stops her again.

  “Maggie, just wait and think about this. Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried to help? Heather lost her life, is it really worth—”

  “Fuck you, Eric!” She looks back at Nate. “Fuck you both.” She pulls away from his grasp and opens the
door. She takes one last look at Kristie before exiting the house.

  The wind and snow are light, but the cold is brutal, stopping them both in their tracks. They look at each other for a second, but then move through the snow trail blazed by Eric and Nate. They make their way to the back gate and struggle to get it open. It takes the two of them to push both gates open, but they eventually make it to the back door that’s all shot up and gapping wide open.

  They stop in the doorway and listen for anything, and hear nothing but the swirling wind. Maggie looks at Kristie and then loudly whispers into the house. “Brock, are you there, Brock?”

  They wait for a response, but hear nothing. They enter the house with caution, both shaking as they hold their rifles up and pointing them down the hallway. Maggie whispers again, “Brock—Brock. Answer me, it’s Maggie.”

  They continue down the hallway and see a glowing light and can feel a warmth on their faces. Maggie can feel the fear building up inside of her as they get closer to the light source. She stops right before the room and slowly peeks in and discovers the heat and light source. And lying next to the fireplace is a body, not moving at all. She lowers her weapon and instinctively crosses the room and kneels down next to the lifeless body.

  She recognizes that it’s Brock, and his stomach is covered in blood. She drops her rifle and feels his neck for a pulse, but only finds a faint one. “Brock, Brock, can you hear me? It’s Maggie.” She gets no response and proceeds to lift up his blood- soaked shirt, revealing at least one gunshot wound to his abdomen, and the pool of blood around him signaling a large loss of blood.

  Kristie frantically moves around the room, looking back and forth between Maggie and the two entrances to the room. “Is he dead?” She gets no response from Maggie. “Maggie—Maggie, is he dead?”

  She ignores Kristie and places her hand on his stomach and begins to feel around for gunshot wounds. She feels one, and then two, and her hope of any chance of his survival quickly diminishes. She moves her hand around his back and searches for an exit wound when suddenly his hand grabs at hers and she jumps back. She leans back over him and grabs his arm with her loose hand. “Brock—Brock, it’s Maggie. Can you hear me?”

  He gurgles, coughs blood and tries to say something but only gurgles more.

  “Brock, don’t try to talk. Just lie still and I’ll try to help you.” She turns to Kristie. “We need to get my medical kit, I have to stitch him up soon, he—”

  He coughs again and gurgles something. “Ta—” He coughs up more blood and squeezes her arm very gently, and without any strength. “Tam—Tammy. You have to—” He coughs up more blood and tries to open his eyes.

  “Try not to speak, Brock.”

  He coughs again and tries to look at her. “Help Tammy—they have her.” He coughs more blood but this time it’s a large amount, and Maggie knows he’s already lost too much blood and there’s nothing she can do. The tears stream down her face and instantly get swallowed by the pool of blood now growing around them both.

  “House—down street—three—twelve. Help her—please. I’m—sorry.” His grasp on her arm weakens and the gurgling stops, and his last breath leaves his body. His body still, eyes frozen in time.

  “Brock—Brock, stay with me—Brock.” But she knows he’s gone, and there’s nothing she can do. Her helplessness overwhelms her and she breaks down and cries so hard that she feels like she’s losing control. It was like the buildup of emotion from these past months all came out at once, and over the death of someone she barely knew.

  Kristie kneels down beside her, crying almost just as hard, trying her best to pull her best friend back and away, but her lack of strength getting the best of her, and she can do nothing more than crouch down to Maggie’s side and attempt to hold on to her.

  They sit in a pool of blood, weeping uncontrollably while holding each other, trying to comfort one another but at the same time, unable to comfort themselves.

  Suddenly, they hear a voice from down the hall, and they panic. Kristie lunges for her rifle and fumbles to get a good grip. She lifts the rifle just as a face appears in the doorway. She pulls the trigger and fires a single round that hits the ceiling above the door, forcing the person to drop to the ground and yell out.

  “Kristie stop! It’s Eric and Nate, don’t shoot!”

  She realizes what she has almost done and drops her rifle like a hot potato, backing away from it. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

  Eric peeks his head in, followed by Nate doing the same. Nate moves around Eric and quickly goes over to his girlfriend. “Kristie—baby, are you alright? Are you guys alright!” He kneels down beside them both and gently puts his arms around them both. They say nothing and just continue to cry.

  Eric walks in the room and stands over them. “Damn, is Brock dead? Holy shit, dude, where’s all is supplies?”

  Maggie drops her shoulders even lower then they already were, and she looks up at him. “That’s—that’s all you have to say—where’s his stuff? Brocks dead and that’s all you have to say. You—get away from me—just get the fuck away from me!”

  “I didn’t—I’m sorry! Are you alright?”

  Nate stands up and attempts to pull Kristie up. Eric moves closer to help pull Maggie up but Nate stops him. “Dude—just don’t, just—don’t.”

  Eric’s face blanches and he steps back. He looks down at Maggie and then back to Nate, and then turns and walks out of the room. Nate and Kristie help Maggie get to her feet, and they leave the room, none of them looking back.

  Chapter 17

  Peter bursts into the living room and everyone turns to look at him. “You guys—you guys. We made contact!”

  Dave stands up and looks at him confused. “What are you talking about? Made contact with who?”

  “We received a recorded radio transmission from someone in Boulder. They said they had survivors at the Boulder FEMA camp!”

  Simon gets up and stands next to Dave. “Recorded? So you didn’t actually make contact with anyone, you just received a transmission?”

  “Yeah, but it has to be new since we haven’t heard it before today.”

  Simon looks at Dave with skepticism. “Let’s go listen to it.”

  They all walk downstairs to where Marshal is sitting in front of the radio, repeating the same words. “We’ve received your broadcast, is there anyone listening out there, are you receiving my transmission?” He repeats that again, but then turns around when he realizes everyone behind him.

  Dave walks up behind him and puts his hands on his hips. “Let us hear the recorded broadcast you’ve received.”

  Marshal lets go of the transmission button and lets the broadcast play. They listen to the same message a couple times that repeats about every minute. Dave turns back around to look at everyone and crosses his arms. “Well, this could be a really good sign. But the broadcast did sound like she’s a civilian and not military. And we obviously have no idea if she’s even still alive or if it isn’t some kind of trap in order to gain supplies. So before everyone gets their hopes up, let’s just wait a while and keep trying to transmit and hopefully make contact.”

  The hope on everyone’s face seem to melt away with the realization of the situation. The unknowing of what’s out there has to be taken into consideration, so they know they can’t jump to conclusions and get their hopes up.

  Simon scratches his chin and then bobs his head. “We’re going. Plain and simple, we’re going.”

  Dave throws up his hands and jerks his head back. “Ah—hold on Simon, we can’t just go on some wild goose chase and risk everyone’s lives in search of people we’re not even sure still exist. Now let’s just wait a bit and see what pans out. We’ll continue to broadcast, and if we—”

  Suddenly, the recorded broadcast stops midway and a new broadcast is heard. “This is Boulder base, and we’ve received your transmission, over.”

  Dave turns and grabs the microphone out of Marshals hand. “Copy that, we hear y
ou load and clear Boulder base. This is Naval Officer Andrews, is this a civilian transmission? Over.”

  “Yes, this is a civilian transmission. We are a group of survivors at the Boulder FEMA camp. Are you close by? Over.”

  “We are located just outside Evergreen, but we have adequate transportation. Is your camp secure? Or was it breached by Infected? Over.”

  “The military built a fence around most of the town, but it’s not secured. Infected were able to breach the compound, but they are completely frozen. So as of now, it’s safe. Over.”

  Dave looks back at everyone waiting with baited breath, the knowledge of other survivors sparking life into everyone. Dave continues his communication for a while longer before signing off. He and the group discuss what they want to do, but Simon is adamant about leaving, and Dave is not quite sure why, and Simon won’t say.

  After hours of discussion and planning, they eventually all decide they are going to make the trip. The potential of a safe haven at the Boulder base is just too good to pass up, and if there was a possibility that they can secure the perimeter that the military built, then they were all willing to take the risk.

  They cannot convince Marshal and Becky to come with them so they say their goodbyes and thank them for their hospitality. Simon doesn’t say goodbye to his so-called longtime friend, sparking Dave’s curiosity even more. He knows something is up, but can’t get any explanation from Simon.

  They decide to double back toward Golden, and then make their way to Boulder via highway 93, hoping that was the safest and easiest way to get there. Dave attempts to tell Marshal and Becky their route plans, but he’s cut off by Simon right after he lets them know they will be taking 93, and Dave insists he gives them an explanation but none is received. They leave some supplies for Marshal and Becky and load up in the trucks in the same groups as before.

  The snow has almost completely stopped, but the sun has not yet come out. They drive back down I70 toward Golden and make their way to highway 93. The pace slows because the road is covered in snow and must be plowed.