Mason brushed Gabriel’s hand away and patted over shirt. There was no hole. No blood. A miss.
Gabriel looked himself over.
Captain Whitaker appeared beside them. “Time to go, sir. Now!”
Gabriel nodded.
Captain Whitaker yelled the order and two of his men ushered the others aboard the chopper. Two other soldiers retreated from the edge of the helipad and took up defensive positions near the bird.
Miro scooped Iridia up and carried her to the chopper. She stared in shock at her fallen father before disappearing into the chopper’s interior.
A roar from below momentarily rose above the thump of the rotors. The deltas must’ve realized the change in momentum. One appeared at the top of the ladder. It didn’t get higher before a bullet punctured its head and sent it reeling backward.
Gabriel knelt beside Anton and dug a hand into his left pocket. He withdrew what looked like a small silver coin. He held the coin in front of Anton’s twisted face. “I saved your life in the alley that day. I lifted you out of the gutter and gave you a future.”
Anton pushed himself up on his elbows.
Gabriel curled a fist around the coin. “And you betrayed me. Unwavering loyalty. That was the only rule that can not be forgiven.”
Anton snarled and spat blood onto the ground. “I saved mankind! I did what you and all the other spineless cowards could not. You should be on your knees thanking me!”
Gabriel flicked a straight right and caught Anton on the chin. His head snapped back and he collapsed on his back. “Anton Reshenko, I sentence you to death for high crimes against humanity.”
Anton’s eyes opened wide with fear. He reached up as a submissive animal does to an alpha.
Gabriel slapped his hand away. “Goodbye.” He turned away and allowed Captain Whitaker to help him back to the chopper.
Mason followed them inside.
“Sit here,” Gabriel said pointing to the seat next to him.
Mason nodded and took the offered seat.
The chopper’s engine spun up and the thump of long blades slicing through the air picked up.
The four operators holding the defensive perimeter retreated into the cabin while continuously firing at the advancing deltas.
Anton struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the chopper.
While several deltas advanced on the chopper, one broke off toward Anton.
An old man. His lower lip dangled from his chin. His thin limbs moved with unexpected energy.
“Don’t leave me!” Anton shouted.
Captain Whitaker tapped the pilot’s shoulder and pointed his finger up and twirled it.
The chopper groaned and lurched off the roof.
Anton wrapped an arm over a landing skid and held on as the chopper lifted higher.
The old delta reached him and grabbed hold of his waist.
Anton glanced down at the delta in terror. “No, Charles! No!”
The elderly delta bit into the bulge of belly spilling out of Anton’s shirt.
Anton screamed and lost his grip. He crashed down to the helipad. The delta crawled up his body and bit down on his face.
The surrounding deltas converged on the struggling pair. Anton disappeared beneath a wall of flailing flesh.
The sickening screams of his final seconds were lost as the chopper lifted higher into the air.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Mason held the overflowing trash bag open as Beth shoved another outfit of Theresa’s inside. Her room looked like a poltergeist had crossed over. While she rested in the chopper out on the street, they packed up one trash bag each of personal possessions.
One bag each to contain the entirety of their lives.
That was hard enough. But the fact that they had exactly five minutes to make those decisions made it next to impossible.
How was a person supposed to look at a lifetime of accumulation and memories and decide which handful made the cut?
And how was that supposed to happen when each decision got less than a second or two of consideration?
It was impossible.
And so they did the best they could.
Beth dug through Theresa’s sheets and fished out a prize. Lambchops. As bedraggled as ever. Both eye buttons missing and ears frayed into stringy threads. The loyal lovie looked more like garbage than something you’d want to shove into a trash bag of your dearest belongings. Despite his appearance, or maybe because of it, his inclusion was never in question.
She crammed him inside and Mason tied the top into a knot. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and was about to walk it out when Elio appeared in the doorway.
“I got it,” he said as he grabbed the bag. “You need to go easy on that ankle.”
“Thanks. You’re a good kid, you know.”
A lopsided smile spread across his face. He nodded and departed with the last bag.
Mason checked his watch.
Forty-two seconds left on the clock.
He gathered Beth in his arms. He glanced over her shoulder at the corner of the room. “I remember the night we put together Theresa’s crib. In a room about half this size. How we argued if it should go by the window or in the corner.”
She squeezed him tight, shaping her body into his. She rested her cheek on his chest. “And I remember how I convinced you I was right.”
Images flashed through Mason’s mind. Beth’s bare skin moving in ways that would make the Pope blush. They’d built a life together. Much of it here.
A cat meowed in the hallway.
Mr. Piddles strolled in and wrapped his body around Beth’s leg. He twisted through her legs with his long tail curling around behind.
“Looks like we’re all out of trash bags,” Mason said.
Beth arched a brow at him. “He’s going. Iridia is going to need him now more than ever.”
Iridia was in the chopper in Miro’s arms. She hadn’t stopped sobbing since losing her father. Beth was right, as she usually was in matters of the heart.
Mason surveyed the overweight feline. “Well, I suppose we could eat him if food gets scarce.”
Beth cuffed his shoulder. “Not funny.”
Mason laughed anyway. It was an empty sound, but at least it existed for a brief span. The sadness in his heart needed whatever help it could get.
They stared at Theresa’s room in silence, knowing they would never see it again.
“Hey,” Mason said, “the upside is that you’ve always wanted to live in San Francisco. Weird that it’s going to be the new capitol.”
“This wasn’t exactly the scenario I’d envisioned.”
Mason nodded in slow motion. “I know.”
“Do you think life will ever be normal again?” she asked.
“I hope so.”
He knew it would never be like it was. He knew that world was gone forever. Whatever came next might aspire toward similar ends, but whatever it became, it would undoubtedly be different.
Because every result was a combination of the innumerable conditions that preceded it. And the world they now faced had been fundamentally altered. Whatever came next would grow from that changed soil.
Beth’s expression darkened. Moisture welled in the corners of her eyes.
“What’re you thinking about?” he asked.
“We need to check on my parents on the way north,” she said. “They might still be alive.”
“We will,” he said, without knowing if the diversion was actually possible. He had no idea about the refueling situation or any number of other factors that might preclude another waypoint in the journey.
The not knowing didn’t matter.
It was a dilemma that didn’t require an immediate solution. It could wait a few minutes. And with only seconds remaining of their old lives, the future seemed far away.
Captain Whitaker appeared in the doorway.
“We’ve got contact outside. It’s time to go. Now.”
Beth scooped up Mr. Piddles.
“Ma’am, the President didn’t say anything about a cat.”
“He’s going. It’s not up for discussion.”
Beth marched past the captain staring holes into him as she went.
Mason passed him with a lopsided grin. “She loves animals.”
Mason followed her out of the house they’d spent so much time, money, and energy making their own. As much as his heart mourned the loss, the depths of his soul appreciated a more important truth.
He still had his family.
Billions of people had died or lost those they loved. Incalculable loss. Incalculable suffering.
And yet he still had the two things that mattered most.
His daughter and his wife.
He helped Beth into the chopper and climbed in behind. Six trash bags were crammed into the rear area. One each for Mason, Beth, Theresa, Elio, Noor, and Maria.
The President motioned for Mason to return to the empty seat next to him.
Mason sat down and secured his seat belt. He accepted the headset offered by Captain Whitaker.
“Take us back to the capital,” the President said over comms.
“Yes, sir,” the pilot replied.
The President turned to Mason. “Mr. West.”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
Mr. President.
Weird.
“You’ve saved my life on two occasions. You seem to have a knack for it.”
Mason had no interest in gratitude or back-patting. His daughter was still very sick and, despite receiving the serum, still had a hard recovery ahead.
“Sir, no thanks are necessary.”
“I wasn’t going to thank you. I was going to offer you a job.”
Mason’s head spun, seemingly faster than the rotors as the chopper lifted into the air. The pilot yawed to the north and picked up speed while continuing to climb. Far below, Mason watched as a pack of deltas stood in the street, looking up at the beings that, from their perspective, must’ve seemed like gods.
Fragile gods, to be certain.
“A job, sir?” Mason asked.
“A position in the Presidential Protective Division.”
“Sir,” Captain Whitaker cut in, “Alpha team is more than capable of attending to that duty.”
“Captain, your skills are required for higher priority missions.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But your safety is the highest priority.”
“This isn’t a discussion, Captain,” the President replied with an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. “Besides, it’s high time we reconstituted the Secret Service and its mission.”
The President turned back to Mason. “What do you say? Will you keep me alive while I go about the dangerous business of rebuilding civilization?”
It was insane to even consider. And yet, it made perfect sense. He’d had over a decade in the close protection business and many years in the Marine Corps before that. He knew how to save a life, and he knew how to take one.
If this man could bring mankind back from the brink, then he deserved everything Mason had to offer.
Even his own life, if it came to that.
Beth wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t really have a choice.
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
THE END OF BOOK 2
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About the Author
William Oday grew up in the Midwest, the center of the states. He later meandered out to the West Coast and has remained off-center ever since. Living in Los Angeles, he achieved his Career 1.0 dream by working on big-budget movies for over a decade. If you’ve seen a Will Smith or Tom Cruise blockbuster action movie, you’ve likely seen his work.
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CONTENTS
Copyright
Title Page
The Last Peak Series
William's Newsletter
What Readers Are Saying
Freebie for Finding Errors
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Chapter Eighty-Seven
William's Newsletter
Questons or Comments
About the Author
The Last Peak (Book 2): The Darwin Collapse Page 32