by Ellis, Tara
Thirty paces from where he stored the bike, he positioned himself off to the side of US Route 89. It was an incredibly scenic road and Russell had come to appreciate the majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Although tiring, biking through the silence was most therapeutic.
The thick woods lining the road made it impossible for him to see who was approaching until they came around the bend. As that was about to happen, Russell was startled by unexpected movement nearby. No more than fifteen feet away, a teenaged boy leapt from the underbrush, knife in hand.
While Russell grunted and took an involuntary step back, the boy turned, and his shocked expression confirmed that he had also been unaware of his approach. Instinct took over and Russell lunged forward when the teen hesitated, knife held high over his head. Grabbing the wrist of his knife-wielding hand, Russell twisted it around and up, forcing the boy’s arm behind his back. Some extra pressure applied to the right spot released the boy’s grip on the knife and Russell easily disarmed him. Before the kid even knew what happened, he found himself crying out in pain, his right arm nearly dislocated, and his own knife held firm against his throat.
Russell was aware of more movement from the opposite side of the road. As the horse and rider came into view, two men armed with large sticks ran forward, still determined to carry out their botched ambush. However, the scuffle between Russell and the boy had already alerted the rider and he watched as the expert horseman fired off a couple of shots from his rifle at the ground near the men’s feet.
“Woah, man. Take it easy!” one of the men cried out, throwing his hands up in the air. They both looked to be in their mid-twenties and were dressed in rags. Dark bags under their hollow cheeks added to their look of hopelessness.
Russell stood holding the boy against his chest with one arm, the other with the knife pricking the delicate skin of his neck. He envisioned the blade slicing into the teen’s throat, releasing his life and righting the balance. However, as his eyes flicked from the knife to the rider, he noticed that the man was wearing an unusual shirt.
Mercy Postal Service was stitched on to the left breast of the white and blue polo in bold letters. Russell also noticed large leather saddle bags were draped across the flanks of the horse, with PONY EXPRESS hand-written in marker on the one he could see.
Deciding to make the most of the unexpected opportunity, Russell whispered into the boy’s ear. “You hesitated. Next time…don’t.” With that bit of parting advice, he shoved the kid away from him and then threw the knife at his feet when the boy spun around.
“Get out of here!” the rider shouted, raising his rifle for emphasis that wasn’t needed. The two men were already backpedaling.
“Come on, Jason!” the tallest of the two shouted at the boy. Jason leaned down to retrieve his knife, never taking his eyes off Russell. As he backed away, he grinned before running down the road after his friends.
“Probably shouldn’t have given him his knife back. My name’s Jed.” Jed was leaning sideways while still in the saddle, holding out a hand.
Russell moved in close enough to shake the offered hand, being careful to avoid the horse’s head. “Russell Rogers.” Assuming the dead deputy’s surname was easy enough, though he wasn’t currently wearing the badge. There’d be plenty of time for that later. “They’re starving,” Russell said, moving back out of reach of the horse. “Taking their only pitiful weapon would only make them more desperate.”
Jed shrugged and then tipped his cowboy hat up from his forehead, removing the shadow it caused and exposing his face to the sunlight. Russell guessed he was at least thirty and appeared hardened. He had intelligent eyes that followed Russell’s movements closely, and he surmised it was a good thing he’d already gotten on the guy’s good side.
“I figure I might owe you my life,” Jed offered.
“I don’t know about that,” Russell said humbly. “Something tells me that even if they’d surprised you, they wouldn’t have managed to cause too much harm.”
“Where you headed?”
Yup. Not a man for small talk. Russell rubbed at his chin and let out a sigh. “I’m afraid I’m on a mission for a friend of mine who didn’t make it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jed said without much empathy.
“We worked together down in Wyoming at an…institute. We were traveling to his hometown of Mercy, when we were attacked.” Russell looked away for an appropriate amount of time, pretending to gather himself. “I promised that I would continue our journey without him, and let his parents know what happened.”
“What was his name?” Jed asked, not commenting on the fact that he was wearing a shirt with the town’s name on it.
“Tim Ridgeway,” Russell answered. “A good, honest man. Best friend I ever had.”
Jed scratched at his head and then shifted in the saddle. “Don’t know the name, but I only moved to Mercy a couple years back. You ever been there?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been this far north in all my life. After listening to Tim talk about it for the past year, I feel like I’ve been there.” Russell gestured to the shirt and then the saddle bags. “I take it you’re a part of some sort of mail service out of Mercy? Am I far? It’s been quite the trip.”
Jed scrutinized Russell again before answering. “You’re a long way from home, Mr. Rogers, but you’ve got nearly a hundred more miles to go.”
Shoulders sagging, Russell squinted up at the setting sun. “Well, I might get another ten miles or so in before I have to stop for the night.”
“You’re not getting another ten miles in by nightfall,” Jed observed.
“Oh! No, I have a bike. When I heard you coming, I dumped it back there in the trees.” Russell held his hands up. “I don’t have a gun, and aside from Tim’s death, I’ve been attacked several more times so I’m always cautious.”
Jed nodded approvingly. “You may as well know that there’s a roadblock a few miles outside of town. The sheriff and his deputies have a pretty tight lid on the only way in and out of Mercy.”
“Makes sense,” Russell said. “I hope they’ll at least let me get a message to Tim’s parents.”
“Drop my name,” Jed offered, surprising Russell. “Tell ’em I’ll vouch for ya. You’ll be kept in quarantine for a day before they let you talk with anyone.”
“Quarantine?” It was the first Russell had heard of any sort of illnesses worthy of isolation.
“Had more than a dozen folks die from something resembling cholera,” Jess said with a shake of his head. “I had to leave before the funeral, though our pastor is so ancient he likely forgot their names.”
Russell carefully mulled over the new information. “Was it under control when you left?”
“Seemed to be,” Jed said. “Brought in by some residents who’d made their way back from Helena. Figure they picked it up by sharing some water with a group of strangers on the road the night before they got home. Hits ya in hours, and most were dead in a day or less.”
Russell whistled. “Frankly, I find that rather terrifying.”
“You should,” Jed said stoically. “Mercy might have all she needs to keep us fed, and all the law to keep us safe, but when one little bug can sneak in and kill off fifteen people like that—” he snapped his fingers. “What we really need are more pastors to pray for our poor souls.”
Jed sat up straight in his saddle and pulled at the reins, bringing the horse around so he was facing south again. “I’d best get going. I still have some ground to cover before I reach the next station. This is a new route for me and I don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.” Tipping his hat, Jed attempted to smile at Russell, but the unnatural gesture came out more like a grimace. “Thanks again for the assistance. I expect I’ll be seeing you in town in a few days.”
Russell waved a hand in response and took a couple of extra steps back. The horse had ignored him for the most part, but snorted in his direction as he turned around. “Safe travels!”
<
br /> With the horse galloping out of sight, Russell eagerly retrieved his bike. The information he’d gleaned was more than he could have hoped for. While it was unsettling to learn about a killer infection, he saw it as yet another opportunity.
As he began to pedal north again on US Route 89, Russell contemplated the beauty of nature and how it all worked seamlessly together. The trees, the sky, the gamma-ray burst, the bacteria…and Russell Rogers.
Chapter 19
ETHAN
FEMA Shelter M3, Monida, Montana
Ethan tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn and happily accepted the thermos of hot coffee from Ben. He’d never been much of a coffee drinker before the flash, but over the past day it had become his favorite beverage.
Mist rose from the lake and spread out into the surrounding fields, so that it glowed as the sun began its journey up the sky in the east. Over a dozen horses grazed in the fog, casting ethereal shadows that stretched toward the thick evergreens which created a natural boundary between the shelter area and the river. The barbed wire fence was another barrier and it reminded Ethan that the sense of security and freedom meant something different for each of them.
He and Ben had already fed and watered the horses before anyone else had even gotten breakfast. Ethan then showed Ben where to let the other horses loose to graze, and kept his five back for “extra” grooming that he said was needed since they’d been left with the saddles on for so long. It was a lie, of course, and he was actually prepping them for their saddles and organizing the tack so it was close by and ready to go. While Ethan knew he should feel some guilt for manipulating his new friend…he didn’t. This was a big part of his plan and Ben’s role in it was crucial for it to work.
Besides, Ethan suspected that in addition to Ben, several of the other soldiers would also be happy to see him succeed. Talking around the campfire late the night before had been very…enlightening. Apparently, Dillinger was known as a snake long before the event. Some of the guys assigned to the shelter were having a hard time carrying out his orders.
Rumor was that the early-morning inspection could bring some wanted change, and that gave Ethan an extra boost of confidence. His stomach clenched as he moved some more tack nonchalantly. Confident or not, right or not, what he was about to do could go wrong in so many different ways that he knew it was bordering on illogical.
Tango turned his head to give Ethan a nudge and as he reached out to scratch his friend’s favorite spot, all of his reservations evaporated. He knew what he had to do.
The sound of rotors slapping at the sky suddenly began echoing off the hills surrounding them. Ethan looked up, shielding his eyes against the rising sun. The sky was empty and he figured the helicopter was still a ways out, making its way up the valley. Right on time.
“Let’s go watch it land,” Ethan suggested. “We’re done with the horses for now and we deserve a break.”
As Ethan expected, the other young man was more than eager to see the first sign of any surviving machinery. A military helicopter, no less. “Sure!” Ben wiped his hands off on his fatigues and straightened his cap. “I’ve heard the Sergeant’s nickname is The Terminator. Can you believe that?”
Ethan frowned as he followed Ben toward the main road and the north entrance. He already knew from his investigating yesterday that the helicopter would be landing in an open area on the far side of the north entrance. It would be away from the tents, for obvious reasons, and beyond the buildings of Monida. This would require the Sergeant to walk down Main Street in order to get to the command tent. At least, that was what Ethan was betting on. However, if the guy responsible for investigating the shelter wasn’t any better than Dillinger, then it was all for nothing.
Ethan glanced over at the two soldiers manning the north gate and felt a huge sense of relief when he didn’t see Danny or Sam waiting beyond it. If they listened to him, they’d be far enough away that it wouldn’t matter for them if his plan went sideways. He was counting on them to make it to Mercy if it did. Ethan knew his grandma would do everything she could to get him and his dad out of there.
“Why do you think they call him The Terminator?” Ethan asked, looking up at the helicopter that was visible as it came in low over the mountains to the north.
“Because he’s gigantic,” Ben laughed, and Ethan relaxed some. All he cared about was the guy’s ethics.
“Come on, Dad,” Ethan muttered under his breath, as they began to cross the road. The police station was dead ahead. He turned again to look first at the gate, and then up at the approaching helicopter. It looked enormous and Ethan wondered how it even managed to stay in the air. Under the increasing noise of the thumping blades and motor, he thought he heard a different kind of noise. Yelling. “Come on…”
“Ben!”
Ethan smothered a smile of satisfaction when he saw Kenny stick his head frantically outside the police department’s door. As he stepped out onto the porch, the yelling from inside got louder.
“Man, this guy’s losing it!” Kenny waved his hands in the air as he spoke, clearly rattled. “He’s demanding to talk to the corporal, says he’s had enough and wants out. I don’t know what to do. He’s hitting his bed against the freaking bars!”
“You better go get the corporal.,” Ethan urged Ben. Turning to him, he didn’t have to pretend to look scared. “My dad…he, um, has PTSD. He can’t handle being confined. It’s why I wanted to check on him last night. Look, get Dillinger to talk to him now, and I’m sure Dad will agree to anything. Then I’d get to stay here, too.”
Ben pursed his lips and stared up at the helicopter, which had completed its approach and was hovering, getting into position to land. Movement from down the road caught Ben’s eye and he turned to where Dillinger was walking with a small entourage, making his way to greet the Sergeant. “He isn’t going to like this.”
Ethan was at a pivotal point in his plan. It all hinged on getting Ben to go along with stalling Dillinger and getting his dad out at the right time. Right on cue, a loud, bellowing wail came from inside the jail and both Kenny and Ben winced.
Ethan leaned in and pointed a finger at the building for emphasis. “I get that Dillinger won’t like being interrupted, but you need to convince him that this could be a good thing.” When Ben stared at him with obvious doubt, Ethan rolled his eyes like the answer was obvious. “What’s going to make the corporal look better; a screaming prisoner claiming injustice, or a new, strong recruit happy to be a part of Shelter M3?”
Ben grinned. “Ethan, you’re a smart guy. Hold on!” he shouted to Kenny, and then jogged down the road, waving a hand at the corporal to get his attention.
Ethan didn’t have time to stick around to find out what would happen. The helicopter was landing, and he estimated he had around ten to fifteen minutes. Turning on his heels, he sprinted for the horses.
Chapter 20
DANNY
North of FEMA Shelter M3, Montana
“You know that staying behind goes against every fiber of my being,” Sam complained while repositioning himself on the ground, where he sat leaning up against an evergreen. The area north of the shelter was heavily wooded in steepening hills that were going to make walking more strenuous. Grace lay at his feet, her ears pricked, hearing something that Danny could not.
“Sam, we’ve been over this.” Danny turned away from the man whom she considered her best friend, and then paused. Looking down at the gun she’d retrieved from Tom’s hiding place, she sighed and spun back around. “Here.” Holding it out grip-first, she shook it for emphasis when Sam only stared at her. “Take it! If I bring this back with me, I’m only going to get into bigger trouble.”
Chuckling, Sam reached up and took the .45 loaded with its one bullet. “Somehow, Danny, I absolutely believe that.” Setting the gun next to him on the ground, Sam rested a hand on Grace’s head and stifled a cough. Even the slow, one-mile walk they’d made was enough to irritate his airway. Ellen gave him an emergency
inhaler before they’d left against the nurse’s protests, but Danny told him to save it for when it got really bad.
“If we aren’t back by tomorrow morning—”
“I know,” Sam interrupted. “Get to Mercy any way I can. It’ll be slow going though. Especially without the horses and only Grace here to keep me on my toes.”
“Look, I’m only going to observe,” Danny said, trying to sound reassuring. She already felt horrible for leaving him and Grace, though she couldn’t see any other option. Sam was in no condition to even walk fast, let alone potentially get in the middle of a fight or have to run.
“This inspection we heard about this morning must have something to do with Ethan’s plan,” Danny surmised. “So I’m sure whatever it is, it’ll be going down soon. It’s probably also the main reason Dillinger agreed so quickly to our request this morning to let us leave. Having us gone is one less complication for him to worry about.”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “I should have insisted that Ethan give me more information yesterday. I could have come up with an excuse to leave the infirmary for a few minutes if I hadn’t been so tired. He’s a fifteen-year-old boy and we’re letting him call the shots?”
“He’s smart,” Danny insisted. “Remember? You said that yourself. And besides, it’s not like we had any other options. The fact that he’s seen as only a teen and not a threat is exactly what’s allowed him to move around so freely and gather whatever information has him convinced that he can set things right.”
“So convinced that he told us to get out first?” Sam countered.
Danny crinkled her nose at Sam and then waved her hand in the air as she walked away. “Which is why I’m going all stealth mode, secret-agent style.” She was trying to lighten the atmosphere but it wasn’t working. Danny’s steps were heavy and she had no idea what she was going to do, only that she’d made Tom a promise, and she kept her promises.