Humanity's Edge- The Complete Trilogy

by Paul B. Kohler

  Chapter 71

  After gathering their things, the survivors stood at the other side of the candy shop’s hidden door, Daniels at the front holding his gun like a beacon. He bowed his head and then kicked the door in, revealing a barrage of the crazed scrambling over the gumballs and chocolate bars, their eyes dripping.

  Daniels blasted through them. The survivors watched as bodies crumbled to the floor, while stray bullets burst through the candy shop window, forcing stray glass shards to flash through the air aimlessly. Daniels gestured forth, and the seven of them loaded into multiple cars before heading toward their first destination.

  Clay opened the back warehouse of the sheriff’s station, where they kept the guns in reserve, realizing that this utilization of keys in locks was now an antiquated thing—that the world was now a dangerous, unlocked place. He flung the key to the warehouse floor and began passing handheld guns to Ralph, Norah, and Brandon, before handing a final one to Jacobs, who held it like a toy. Clay couldn’t help but judge him: this science boy who’d decided that the world was his playground. And now he could hardly protect himself in the face of its uproar.

  After retrieving the guns, they began their trek across the empty town, eyeing the familiar once-warm coffee shops, the gas stations, and the houses without trust. Despite their previous attempt to sweep the town, any one of them could contain more of the crazed. Any one of them could contain their death.

  “It’s strange. I remember I met Megan at that bar once,” Alayna whispered, pointing. “She was the most beautiful human I’d ever seen. I was so confused, then. About life, my career, my sexuality . . .” her thoughts drifted off. “And now look at it.”

  The bar’s front window was blasted open, the bar stools crooked.

  The mechanic shop was two miles away. The survivors drove in silence: Clay, Alayna, Norah, and Ralph in the lead vehicle, and Daniels, Brandon, and Jacobs bringing up the rear. Clay turned his head from side to side as Ralph pointed out the tucked-away mechanic shop. “Ayup,” Ralph said. “There it is. I see it through that dirty window.”

  Clay stopped his cruiser and Daniels pulled up beside him. As they neared the entrance, he saw that Ralph’s observation was correct. The military-like Humvee sat just inside. It was open, its insides gleaming from the daylight that filtered in through the window. It had recently been worked on, but the mechanic—Ralph’s old pal—had long since fled.

  The storage unit’s lock was rusted and easily broken with a firm kick from Daniels’s military boot. They opened the door, watching as it slid up, revealing the huge vehicle.

  “It’s practically a tank,” Brandon said, impressed. “And it can store all of our supplies.” He walked around the back, noting the size of its rear. “Why would a Carterville man buy something like this?”

  “Mike was mad,” Ralph said. He rubbed his fingers together, eyeing the insides of the Humvee. “He wasn’t finished. You can see here—he was in the middle of restructuring these pipes.”

  “Is it something we can fix ourselves?” Clay asked, knowing his level of mechanical ability was novice.

  “Sure. I can start right now,” Ralph said, eyeing the tools near the corner. “Left everything out, the fool. But we’re going to need some oil and some gas, and of course”—he tapped the innards of the vehicle—“I think we’re going to need to charge up the battery. But we can get a jump from one of our vehicles. Connie always said it was foolish how much I studied up on our cars. Always getting grease all over the living room. But now, she’d be proud.” He looked up, his eyes misty. Clay had an abstract memory of the couple arguing together, bickering, showing not a single shred of love.

  “Perfect,” Clay said, slapping Ralph on the shoulder. “Let’s get cracking, then. Tell us what to do. You’re the boss now.”

  “We’re at your service,” Brandon agreed, no longer the small, maniacal teenager he’d been just days before. He was quickly becoming a man.

  And for a moment, as Clay watched his team join together for survival, he felt a strange sense of pride.

  Chapter 72

  Despite their effort, the repairs proved to be slow and monotonous. Ralph began to bark out orders, unable to understand why Brandon couldn’t do simple mechanical repairs correctly, and occasionally asking him if he’d even been born a man.

  Clay kept watch outside of the garage as Alayna and Daniels headed out to look for gas. They returned with several cans of it, the gas sloshing around in the containers, looking pleased.

  Every few hours, a scattering of the crazed would meander toward them, allowing several chances for them to practice blasting them in the brains. Alayna tried to show Norah how to hold her gun, but Norah balked, telling Alayna, “I’ve been around a long, long time,” before piercing a crazed directly between the eyebrows.

  Alayna gazed at her, impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone more than I love you right now,” she laughed.

  Norah looked at her work, shivering slightly. Clay approached her, remembering how he’d felt when he’d first killed one of the crazed—Cliff, what felt so long ago in that jail cell. “It gets easier,” he said. “Both physically and mentally. It gets easier. I promise.”

  Norah nodded, understanding. It was unspoken that what they were going through was horrendous but absolutely necessary. They were building a life for themselves, and that meant they had to stop feeling nostalgic for all time that had passed. Even Clay had been able to fight back emotions about his wife and daughter, turning a clear eye to the issue at hand.

  As Clay stood keeping watch, Jacobs approached him, stuffing his hands into his pockets. They spoke quietly, not wanting the others to hear.

  “How are you feeling since taking the medicine? For the radiation?” Jacobs asked.

  “Actually, I’m feeling good, all things considered,” Clay affirmed, realizing he’d actually forgotten about many of his symptoms since taking that first pill. “My hair seems to be staying in now, thank god. And I haven’t felt a single bout of nausea.”

  “Good,” Jacobs said, nodding his head succinctly. “It’s strange, this radiation. Especially given that the meteorite issue was fabricated.”

  “Sure. But the meteorite actually did fall,” Clay said, his eyebrows high. “I saw it in the ground, steaming. It was about as real as they come.”

  “Well then you were probably affected,” Jacobs said. “With that close range, you probably picked up a small bit of the radiation, or something similarly poisonous. Without assessing the actual meteorite myself, I can’t know for sure. I’m incredibly curious, but I didn’t bring the right equipment to go check it out myself.”

  Clay held up his hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. What happened happened. And I’m not dead yet, right?” He flashed an ironic smile, listening to the clank of his mechanics in the garage.

  “There’s just no way to know what we’re dealing with, here,” Jacobs affirmed, his eyes dark. “With radiation, you don’t know how it will rear its ugly head. So be alert. I have to admit, now, all of these people are counting on you to pull them through, at least until we get to Earlton.” He spoke with pessimism, watching as Norah blasted another crazed through its soft skull. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up about your personal survival.”

  Clay allowed the words to sink in. Strangely, they didn’t seem to affect him or bring him panic. His entire existence remained in finding his family. Assuring these people remained okay was secondary. Third was his own life. He’d live as long as he could in the interim. No matter what.

  Chapter 73

  Although the repairs were taking longer than he’d like, time seemed to tick along too quickly. Night would fall soon. Clay shifted his weight, clinging to his gun, with the echo of the bullet he’d just shot throttling through his ears. The two crazed, both women wearing black dresses, were splattered across the pavement. They all needed to get going, and soon.

  Clay turned to the group. Ralph and Brandon were cranking
at the interior of the vehicle, and Norah was organizing the supplies they’d been able to bring with them from the lab. He cleared his throat and addressed them all, his hands upon his hips. He felt Alayna’s dark eyes upon him. Always, she was watching.

  “Hear me out, everyone,” he said.

  The survivors turned, expectant. They’d heard him out so many times. With grease on their faces, they waited.

  “I think we should split into two groups,” Clay began.

  “You already said that’s too dangerous,” Ralph interrupted, sweeping his hand over the vehicle. “That’s why we’re doing this, Clay. Jesus.”

  Clay shook his head, feeling more and more certain of his opinion. “Just listen. In the end, we’ll be safer with this one vehicle. But seeing as it’s taking a while, we could be more useful if we split up. We’ve been here for hours, and it’s almost nightfall. We should gather more supplies before we get going.”

  “But what about what we already have back at the hotel and the lab?” Jacobs asked.

  “We can’t be sure it’ll be enough. Besides, we need more nonperishable goods and possibly some medical supplies.”

  “You want two groups, one for supplies and one to finish off the vehicle?” Alayna asked. She offered a soft layer of support, giving him a brief smile.

  “I don’t think that’s a terrible idea, I suppose,” Daniels offered. He scratched at his growing beard. “I’ll stay here with the mechanics if you want to head off and find supplies, Clay. I think you should move quickly, though.”

  Clay began dividing the group, feeling like a postapocalyptic dodgeball captain. “Ralph, you and Brandon and Daniels stay here. Norah, take a rest here, if you like. We need you in tip-top shape for when we get moving. Daniels, make sure Norah’s sleeping in a place you can see her. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

  Daniels shot his hand to his forehead, saluting. “These power outages are becoming more and more prevalent. Maybe . . .” Daniels began, drifting his sight up to the fading sunset, when Clay continued.

  “And that means Jacobs, Alayna, and I will go gather up as many supplies as we can in this immediate area. We’ll go on foot and leave the cars here to use for a light source while you finish with the repairs,” Clay continued. He shuffled toward the edge of the driveway, watching as Alayna and Jacobs stepped forward, joining him. “I’ve never trusted us more as a team than I do right now,” he affirmed. “Keep it up, everyone, and we just might live through this. We just damn well might.”

  Chapter 74

  Behind the garage, a backcountry road cut down about a half mile, past a forest of densely packed trees, before opening out on a street of farmhouses. Clay and Alayna walked side by side, Jacobs following up behind them, as they headed toward the first of the residences. No one bothered to speak.

  The first farmhouse, which belonged to a widow named Teresa, was almost empty. Just a few suitcases had been placed in the first room, half stocked, before Teresa’s ultimate flee from Carterville. Clay wandered through the house, feeling like an intruder, gazing at the photographs of Teresa’s deceased husband that lined the fireplace and walls.

  Alayna appeared beside him, holding a bag of painkillers and other medications and giving him a knowing look. “Seems like we’ll need these eventually, huh?”

  “Good find,” Clay agreed, skimming his fingers over the top of the counter. “Did Leland find anything?”

  “He’s in the garage, actually,” Alayna said, shivering. “But the woman was so alone up here. She didn’t keep a lot. Not even food. I remember I saw her at the diner frequently. She didn’t often cook.”

  “Right,” Clay said, heading toward the exit. “Then we shouldn’t waste our time diving through her ghosts.”

  They went to the next farmhouse, and then the next, finding nothing but a few food items and another tank of gas. The last house on the left was a one-story that used to belong to a model citizen of the town—a man named Rex Taylor—who’d often come by Clay’s house to play cards and drink beers on the back porch. Despite having known the man for several years, Clay realized he’d never been inside Rex’s home. He reached for the door, and then, finding it locked, barreled his boot into the door, waiting for it to give.

  But the door didn’t budge. Clay tilted his head, trying to see in through the door window, but found that it was blocked out, like a board was nailed across it, keeping intruders out.

  “Whose house is this?” Alayna asked, appearing beside him. “Leland tried to get in from the back, but no dice.”

  “It’s my friend Rex’s,” Clay admitted. “He wasn’t a private guy, really. I expected him to be the type to just keep the door wide open, you know?”

  “Ha. Well, when you leave your house for who knows how long, you probably at least lock it,” Alayna said. “Did you try kicking it?”

  “Of course,” Clay said, incredulous. “I’m thinking about shooting it.”

  Alayna marched toward the side window and then noted that the glass, which was initially covered with lace curtains on the other side, was actually decoration for a dark stone that seemed to cover the entire interior of the house. Clay’s jaw dropped, realizing that what she said was true. “I swear, I’ve seen him enter the house from his front door,” Clay offered, shaking his head. “Or have I?”

  “HEY!” Jacobs called to them from the back of the house, causing them both to scamper around the bushes and trees to find him staring at something on the ground.

  Clay, thinking it was one of the crazed or perhaps another kind of danger, brought his gun from his holster and barreled toward Jacobs, adrenaline pumping through him. “What is it?” he cried.

  Jacobs just pointed downward, waiting. Clay reached his side. There before them was a small door that seemed to go directly into the ground, its handle sticking straight into the air.

  “What the hell?” Alayna asked, gasping for oxygen after the mad dash. “I don’t understand.”

  Jacobs reached down and grasped the handle, yanking at it. To his surprise, the door crept open, causing him to cry out. “Grab on to it! My god, it’s heavy!”

  Clay gripped the edge of the cement door to help him lift but nearly ripped it from its hinges instead. Jacobs tumbled back as Clay flipped the bulky hatch over onto the barren ground, revealing a dark, dirt tunnel that seemed to ultimately turn into a staircase.

  Alayna eyes went wide. “You said you knew this guy? Did you know that his house was essentially a fortress?”

  Clay shook his head. He carefully lowered his legs into the tunnel and then dropped, catching himself on the side wall so he wouldn’t tumble down the steps. Pain swept up and down his legs upon landing, but he soon righted himself, shouting up to Alayna and Jacobs. “Don’t come down! I’ll just check it out real quick like. Keep watch for any of the crazed.”

  Clay crept down the steps, searching for some kind of light switch. He slipped the flashlight from his holster and peered into the darkness before marching into an underground circular room filled with weapons.

  Every sort of assault rifle lined the walls. Clay counted to ten, and then lost track, realizing that they extended to the far end of the cavernous room. Across from the rifles was Rex’s collection of grenades and grenade launchers, every make and model. Clay shifted his weight. “I’ll be damned,” he said, remembering how Rex had been a vegetarian and seemed to take offense at curse words. “Was it all an act?”

  He collected several of the weapons, oddly giddy that he’d discovered the selection. But as he carried them through the tunnel, back toward Alayna and Jacobs, he realized he hadn’t seen Rex at the town meeting. In fact, he hadn’t seen Rex in weeks.

  “Holy mother of god,” Alayna said, collecting the guns in her arms as he crawled from the tunnel. “Did you know he was like this?”

  Clay shook his head vehemently. “I had no idea, honestly. And I realized that I didn’t see him leave, either. Do you think he’s still around?”

  Alayna co
nsidered this, a darkness passing over her face. “You know, actually, now that you mention it, I think I heard from someone in town that Rex was leaving for a few weeks. He was visiting a friend, or he had a job out of town. It might have been both.” She shrugged, but still eyed Clay suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Just curious,” Clay said, walking back between the trees and toward the mechanic shop. “We should get back with the others now. The sun’s too low. It’s making me nervous. And I don’t like it.”

  Chapter 75

  Clay trudged down the street with Alayna and Jacobs rushing behind him, chasing the shadows to get back to the Humvee before full-on darkness. The guns and other equipment clattered in their arms. They hadn’t spoken in several minutes, the realization sharp between them that words wouldn’t do any longer.

  Once they were back at the mechanic shop, Ralph made a final crank in the Humvee before wiping his oil-laden hands over his pants and giving Brandon a slight nudge. “See, boy? Using your hands isn’t so bad, after all.”

  Brandon agreed, giving both Norah and Ralph a wide smile. They slammed the hood shut and began positioning guns in the back of the Humvee.

  They turned to Clay with trustful eyes, knowing that no matter how fatigued he was, his brain was constantly pushing forward, attempting to keep them alive.

  “I think we should pack up as many supplies as we can and then get some rest back at the lab,” he said. “We’re exhausted. And it’ll do no good for us to head out to the perimeter when we can barely walk. We’re going to need our wits about us.”

  Norah cleared her throat, alerting them to her clear inability to be physical. Clay turned a sharp eye to her, explaining, “Norah, you know we’ll carry you across that energy field if we have to. We’re not leaving you behind.”