The silence that followed was broken by Mulhaven’s lighthearted quip. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Bob. I’m Riley.” He threw out a hand.
Once the introductions were over, they returned to the discussion at hand.
“What I meant, Chuck,” Bob continued after the short delay, “is that everyone in your group piled into a single truck and headed out to the airport. Out into the night, and you have already attested to the fact that’s when the foamers are most active. Now, I ask … were you really coming to warn us, or did you perhaps see the plane as your ride out of here?”
“You’re a pretty clued-in guy for a politician,” the Tall Man retorted.
“You have to be at times,” Bob replied. “I only have one question. What did you initially intend to do with the occupants of the plane? You had no idea who it would be. The answer won’t bother me at all. I’m just curious.”
“To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” the Tall Man began, “but if it came down to our survival or yours, I would have forced you off the plane or killed you myself.”
The Tall Man was nothing if not honest—and blunt! Kath was taken aback more than the others at the table. She understood by now that the man she’d fallen in love with was no shrinking violet, but to hear his words sent a chill down her back. She knew and believed in the man with a heart as big as his physique, and that’s what counted the most. And with all the foamers about, his cold but practical attitude would be welcome. Of that she was certain.
If there were any doubts about the professionalism and ability of this tall individual, his straightforward reply had laid them to rest. Chess, more than anyone, understood that should a time come when control of this group had to be taken, it wouldn’t be easy. The loyalties within this group would complicate things, as well. But so far, Chess was impressed with their organizational skills and the tactics they employed to survive. Still, he would keep a wary eye out; the status quo could change drastically at any time.
As Elliot listened to further details of how the collapse had unfolded, he felt sick to his stomach to know that this man Ethereidge, now only feet from him, was responsible.
Elliot shook his head. “Asshole!”
“Something the matter, Elliot?” Bob had overheard the younger man’s disapproval.
“Oh, uh … no, no. I was just lost in thought, Mr., err … Bob.”
“About what?”
“I was wondering.” Elliot paused a moment, then had to think quickly. “Did you plan to come here to Prince George to escape the collapse?”
The former president of the United States turned to Tom Transky and indicated that he would be best suited to answer.
“We were on our way to Vancouver,” Tom began. “Our intentions were, and still are, I might add, to go to Graham Island just off the coast. I was looking at a place called Sandspit, which has a small harbor. It’s technically on Moresby Island across the channel, but Graham is the name that stands out on the map. As we crossed into Canadian airspace, out pilot was able to make contact with another pilot, who informed him that Vancouver—the city and the airport— is a disaster zone. We didn’t want to take the risk to fly through to Graham Island if there was trouble at the airport there.”
“I know Graham, but is there an airport big enough for that plane of yours to land?” Mulhaven interjected.
“Our pilot said that in an emergency, he could land at Sandspit Airport, on Moresby. Along with the harbor, that’s why I selected it.”
“What’s so special about this island?” The Tall Man’s interest had been piqued.
“The president and I came upon a theory that these foamers can’t survive the inclement weather of a northern winter. We also believed that placing a barrier between ourselves and these creatures could improve our chances of survival immeasurably—and what better barrier than the sea?” Tom looked around the table and saw everyone nodding. “Food, water, and shelter would be our main concerns, not death by zombie.”
Bob Charles cast an approving gaze at his former chief of staff. Tom hadn’t had to mention the former president at all. It was Tom and Tom alone who had developed and executed the evacuation plan. This was one reason Bob admired him so much. Tom was selfless and went out of his way to include others. He never wanted the limelight—that’s why he’d chosen to work behind the scenes.
“I don’t know anything about this island. Is there housing there? And how do you know about it?” There was more than excitement in the Tall Man’s voice; there was hope.
“Yes, there are houses around Sandspit. I spent some time there as part of a government delegation,” Tom said.
“Graham Island is quite a ways from Vancouver. How did you plan on getting there?” Mulhaven knew the distance from Vancouver to Graham was not much different than that between the island and Prince George.
“We hadn’t planned that far ahead. We didn’t have time, which I’m sure you understand.”
Mulhaven nodded, as did the others around the table. Their current situation didn’t leave room for plans.
“What is it, Chuck?” Kath noticed the Tall Man staring into space.
“This could be it. An island. What’s the population, anyone know? Does it have any agriculture? And this time, Elliot, you need to get out there and check the weapons and ammo, because we might have a whole island to clear out!”
“Right away, Chuck.” It wasn’t an order this time, and they all needed the information. “Cindy, Allan, come with me.”
Mulhaven, an avid collector of information, recounted what he knew of the island. “According to the Internet, the population is about four thousand. It’s very cold. Windswept most of the time, covered in thick pine trees—well, except where they've chopped them down; timber is the major industry. Fresh water is plentiful during the winter, and fish is your only food source. Perhaps if we had a hothouse, we could grow our own food. We might be better off taking a boat to the island. I don’t know who here is able to pilot a boat, but the closer we launch from, the safer it would be. We don’t want a long sea journey.”
Tom agreed with Mulhaven’s description of the island, but added that he didn’t know anything about hothouses or growing vegetables.
“It could be possible with enough heating,” Kath told them as she rifled through a drawer for a map. “Overhead lamps and dual-paned glass. Like the hothouse I have outside.”
“Lamps would mean a generator, and that requires fuel.” Mulhaven, too, showed interest.
“Or wind power like I have.” Kath waved her arm in the direction of the wind turbine that supplied her power. “Prince Rupert would be the best place to go. It’s on the Yellowhead Highway, just under nine hours’ drive from here.”
Mulhaven and the Tall Man leaned over to see where Kath tapped her finger on the map. “What do you think?” the Tall Man asked.
“Well, if we can follow the highway right in, why not?” Mulhaven told the Tall Man.
Right now, neither man was in a mood for long detours. If they were to drive, they would go straight on through. Their only consideration would be supplies.
“I can inform you that as this pestilence has spread, the manufacturing and supply of goods has all but ceased across the country.” Tom Transky confirmed their fears.
“You already have your generator set up. Sandspit may not have what we want.” Ewan, the pilot of the Global Express, spoke up. “Can we dismantle it?”
“Damn good idea. That would work!” The Tall Man smiled for the first time in a while.
“Let’s not lose sight of the goal here. Our aim is to survive. In order to reach that target, we need to make certain we have everything in place to facilitate our transition.” Bob spoke like the president of a nation—which he once was.
The Tall Man liked the positive attitude displayed by the former head of state. More supplies would be needed, and that might mean another day here. But with their futures at stake, there was no choice.
* * *
>
“What are we doing, Elliot?” Allan caught up.
“We have to check the weapons and ammo stocks. The president—Bob—and his group were headed for an island off the coast from Vancouver. Chuck and Aunt Kath, even Mulhaven, are excited about the possibility.” Elliot opened the door of the motor home then halted to answer his friend.
Was it three or four months ago we sat and talked about our future and what it would bring?
Fatigue had set in; memories, old and not so old, played on Elliot’s mind more as the days passed. Since this outbreak, he’d witnessed things nobody would easily forget.
But hasn’t it built to this over the last few years? Elliot knew this to be a fact.
“But you’re not?”
“Well, I’m kinda of two minds. The proposal of using an island as a natural obstruction is a good one. But I’m not sure if an island will support us, y’know?”
“How do you mean ‘support us,’ Elliot?”
“Food, Allan. Food. I don’t know if we can grow food on the island.”
“Do any of us know how to grow food?” Cindy asked. She knew as much about gardening as nuclear fusion.
“Sure, Aunt Kath has grown vegetables ever since she came here.”
“Well, that settles it. We’ll just help Kath to grow the vegetables and stuff.”
“I wish it were that simple, Allan. We’ll probably have to build a hothouse and set the windmill thing up … and all this will take time. Chuck doesn’t want to spend another night here, but we’ll have to in order to gather the necessary supplies, which is why I’m of two minds. We already have the ability to grow food here, right now.” Elliot pointed to the glass hothouse toward the back of the property.
“But the foamers, Elliot. You know we can’t stay here with so many foamers around.”
“Yeah,” Elliot conceded. “It’s just this constant running is getting to me—to us all!”
In the short time they had been here at his aunt’s, Elliot had taken note of her setup. His aunt was well versed in the art of self-sufficiency. She’d always been regarded as the strange one of the family, Elliot’s dad, James, had explained. Elliot couldn’t help but wonder what their family would have to say now.
If they were still alive.
“Well, you’re just as important to this group as Chuck is, Elliot. If you believe we have to stay another night to gather what we need, you’ll just have to tell him—and don’t take no for an answer!” Cindy told him. She had faith in Elliot, maybe more than he had in himself. She would bring out his confidence in time.
“And with just the motor home and the Hummer, Elliot, I don’t see how we could fit everyone. Where is this island, anyway?”
“I’m not sure, Allan, but I have a fair idea it might be in the ocean.” Elliot looked over at his younger friend and raised a single eyebrow.
“Smart ass!” Allan retorted before all three fell into laughter. Just like old times back in high school. They’d laughed a lot back then. Back when they thought the world was a mess and needed to be changed. How they missed that world now.
“So, what’s the count?” The Tall Man had come outside to check on them.
“Err, we haven’t started, Chuck, we—”
“What? What the fuck have you been doing out here?”
“Just who in the—” Cindy stopped, Elliot’s hand on her shoulder calming her.
“You have no right to speak to any of us like that, Mr. Black!” Elliot had never addressed him as such before, and it had the desired effect.
The Tall Man took a step back. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me.” The Tall Man took a deep breath.
“We do, Chuck, and we understand,” Elliot responded. “Now that you’re out here, you can help us with the count.”
* * *
While they checked on the weapons, back inside the house maps were brought out to determine the distance and travel time to Graham Island.
“It’s almost six hundred miles to Sandspit from here,” Ewan told those around the table. “That’s if we could fly there.”
“Do you think we could use the Express?”
“We could probably find enough fuel, but what if the airstrip is damaged or blocked? If we came across any of these problems, we’d be in the deep end then.”
“Yes, our best bet is to go by road—as dangerous as that is—but we’ll still have the problem of getting from the mainland to the island.” The Tall Man was concerned over yet more road travel, but it would be preferable to being stuck in the air with no place to land.
“Our only worry will be finding a boat then, as I see it. There may not be any left lying around, y’know? I can pilot an average-sized fishing boat, but that’s about it, I’m afraid.” Mulhaven knew his limitations and didn’t try to hide them.
“I can help out there, don’t worry. I did some antiterrorist cross-training with the SEALs, and we learned how to pilot some pretty big vessels. As long as I can get some help with it, we might be able to manage.” Chess added some positive information.
While he sat at the table, Chess not only offered his assistance, he also weighed each individual. Like the Tall Man, with whom he shared more than a few commonalities, he understood his chances of survival improved if he knew who he was dealing with, whether friend or foe. The sooner you discovered which they were, the better your chances were. This group could be what he and his small band needed to get by. No longer was he concerned with Holmes or Etheridge; their fates had been sealed. He’d never believed in the bullshit about underground bases with more than a year’s supply of food. But they’d had a plane, and at the time, that had been their ticket out. Like the soldiers with him, he was motivated by survival—in the short and long term. Now he had found people who displayed real common sense with solid plans for a future, and that was a goal he found to be of more interest now than wealth. Money no longer had any power or meaning. It had become as useful as tits on a boar—just like Etheridge.
“We have a few things to discuss,” the Tall Man announced as he entered the house. “As it always is with plans, they’re subject to last-minute changes. And we have a few.”
He grabbed the same chair as before and sat down at the table. His evacuation plans had started last night when he’d heard the plane circle overhead. The first plane. Like Elliot, he was also impressed with Kath’s setup and her knowledge of the necessities for survival. The main concern—outside of foamers and gun crazies—was food. A lot of preppers—or those who called themselves preppers—stocked up on guns, guns, and more guns, a truckload of beer, a few cases of jerky, and a jar of water purification tablets, and they thought they had it made. Not so. And the Tall Man knew this for a fact. Of course firearms would be needed, to defend your food, your shelter, and your loved ones. But if you had no food or shelter, you’d die anyway. A futile exercise in stupidity. The Tall Man considered this strange behavior when he’d occasionally run into a bona fide prepper at a gun store as he bought ammo for his Desert Eagle. He would see them stock up with six packets of 5.56mm ammo, a few packs of 12-gauge shotgun shells, or packs of gun store jerky. He didn’t have to look; he knew the back seats of their pickups would contain cases of beer.
“For the collapse. It’s comin’, mister, it’s a comin’,” they would tell him as they scooped their ammunition and jerky from the counter. The Tall Man would nod and give a polite smile. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but these backward preppers would turn out to be right. They didn’t reckon on foamers as the cause for the collapse, however. Did anyone?
* * *
Kath Goodwin was the opposite. She prepared for food and power. The wind turbine generator on her land provided energy, as did the solar panels. She had top quality canning and drying equipment, too. Her downfall, as the Tall Man saw it, was that she was all alone without anyone to help her defend it—or her. She no longer had to worry on that account. He had thought, just like Elliot, to make Kath’s home their base.
Until
he heard the plane, and saw all those foamers.
A switch was thrown inside his head that told him it was time to leave. When he and the others had reached the airport and saw the thousands of foamers, he understood that the nagging feeling he’d had was a premonition to get the hell out of Dodge while they still could. The Tall Man held the group together, along with Mulhaven and, of course, Elliot, but it took its toll. Since the outbreak, the longest uninterrupted sleep he’d had was about two hours. The hot shower he’d taken when they’d first reached Kath’s had relaxed every muscle in his body, and he looked forward to a good eight hours. The shock of not one but two planes landing, the rescue of the passengers, another escape from foamers, and the cautions from the pilots about runway blockages had combined to make the Tall Man weary; he was human, after all. The proposal of a plane flight to this island sanctuary was—thankfully—suspended, but it still appealed to him.
“As Elliot pointed out to me” the Tall Man made sure to include his younger friend in his discourse—“we’ll need more transportation if we are to get to this island, or at least to the coast. Does anyone have any ideas for how we get from the coast to the island? I assume tickets for the ferry have been withdrawn from sale.”
Kath smirked and reached for his hand. Whatever Elliot and her Chuck had said outside had an effect. He displayed his cheery character once more.
Toward the Brink (Book 3) Page 5