Chapter 21
By the time the cadets arrived back at their makeshift headquarters, Mason and Bowie were both reasonably dry, albeit a bit disheveled. Captain Artz had left behind a sizable team to guard the bridge in case some of the infected might try to follow. With their new weapons and cache of ammunition, the cadets had been transformed from nerdy kids who’d had sand kicked in their faces to muscle-bound athletes showing off their biceps and freshly waxed surfboards. Their brief foray into combat to rescue Mason hadn’t hurt their confidence either.
Artz stood next to Mason and Leila. Rodriguez, Bell, and Cobb had gathered in a small circle nearby. The rest of the cadets were breaking up to share war stories with their comrades.
Mason looked across the parking lot at the deuce-and-a-half.
“Are the Claymores still in the M35?”
“I had the cadets move them to your truck,” said Artz.
“Claymores?” said Leila. “Those are land mines? Yes?”
“Directional anti-personnel mines.”
“Do you really think we’ll need something like that?”
“We’re going to need everything we can get.”
“Not to butt into your business,” interrupted Artz, “but can I ask exactly what it is you’re planning to do?”
Rodriguez, Bell, and Cobb all quieted to listen in.
Mason took a moment to consider his answer. In the end, he decided that the more people who knew about the injustice, the better.
“Did you hear the recent broadcast by President Glass?”
Artz shook his head. “I thought she was dead.”
“Everyone did until a couple of days ago. That’s when a nationwide broadcast claimed that she was hiding out in the Greenbrier bunker.”
“That’s barely a hundred miles from here,” Rodriguez said, stepping closer.
Bell and Cobb edged over to hear the conversation as well. Bowie pressed up against the lieutenant, and she reciprocated by patting him softly on the head.
“President Glass, if it’s really her, believes that Lincoln Pike tried to have her killed,” explained Leila.
“Her own vice president?” said Cobb. “Man, talk about cutthroat politics.” He cracked up a little. “Get it?” he said, running his fingers over his throat. “Cutthroat politics.”
Rodriguez gave him a high five.
Artz shook his head. “This country is falling apart.”
Mason pressed his lips together. “We’re well past that, Captain. The only question now is whether or not it descends into lawless anarchy.”
“My money’s on things becoming a total shitstorm,” said Rodriguez.
“Worse than a shitstorm,” said Cobb. “A shit-nado.” He high-fived Rodriguez again.
“Anyway,” continued Mason. “Now that President Glass has come out publicly, we believe that Pike and his men will have another go at her.”
“Sir, no disrespect,” said Bell, “but how are the three of you going to defend an entire bunker? That sounds like something an army should do.”
Leila looked over at Mason, clearly sharing Bell’s concern.
“We’ll manage,” he said.
Bell bit her lip and turned to Captain Artz.
“Sir, I wonder if a few of us might go along to lend a hand.”
“Sounds like a suicide mission to me,” said Rodriguez. “Pike will probably roll in with tanks. Heavy armor like that will blow the hell out of anything that gets in their way.”
Mason shook his head. “He’s sending an elite special ops team.”
“You know that for sure?”
“I intercepted a communiqué.”
Rodriguez smiled and snapped his fingers.
“Jesus, Marshal, you’re like a secret agent, badass soldier, and lawman all rolled into one!”
“Corporal,” Artz said, cutting his eyes at him.
“It was a compliment, Captain. Really.”
Captain Artz turned back to Mason.
“What do you say, Marshal? Can we be of any help?”
Mason looked around the compound as cadets mingled with one another before bedding down for the night. While the extra firepower might be helpful, most would surely die if they went up against the Black Dogs. That wasn’t a burden Mason was willing to carry.
“I appreciate the offer, Captain, but this isn’t your fight.”
Artz nodded.
Bell, however, seemed unwilling to give up so easily.
“Sir,” she said, “Ut Prossim.”
Artz pressed his lips together but said nothing.
“What does that mean?” asked Leila.
“It’s the motto of our school,” explained Bell. “It means That I may serve.”
“A noble sentiment,” admitted Mason, “but I still won’t be responsible for the deaths of so many young people.”
Artz thought for a moment.
“What if a handful of volunteers accompanied you? Their choice, not yours.”
Mason still didn’t like the idea.
“I’ll go,” offered Bell.
“Me, too,” said Rodriguez.
“You?”
“Hell, yeah. You said they won’t bring tanks, right?”
“That’s true, but—”
“Then I’m in. It’s way too quiet around here for my taste.”
“Your recklessness will likely get us all killed.”
“If I get outta hand, you can shoot me in the back.” He flashed a toothy grin.
“That I can.”
“Cobb, you’re coming too, right?” said Rodriguez.
“No way. I ain’t going off to get killed.”
Rodriguez shoved him lightly. “I never figured you for a pussy.”
Cobb pushed him back. “I ain’t no pussy.”
“Then man up. This is a chance to save the frickin’ president.”
“What’s she ever done for me?”
Rodriguez shook his head. “You don’t get it. It’s not what she’s done that matters. It’s what she’s going to do. Hell, I’ll probably be made a general. Isn’t that right, Marshal?” He looked over at Mason and winked.
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he said with a grin.
That seemed to give Cobb pause.
“I’m sure as shit not going to stay a private while they make you a general.”
“So, you’re in?” said Rodriguez.
Cobb shrugged. “I guess.”
Artz chewed his lip, obviously wanting to volunteer.
Mason reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Your place is here with your men.”
The captain let out a sigh.
“I know that, but it still doesn’t feel right.”
“In war, we each do our part.” He looked over at Bell, Rodriguez, and Cobb. “If you’re coming with us, you’d better hit the sack. We leave at first light.”
As the cadets hurried off toward the building, Mason couldn’t help but wonder what their future might hold. One was driven by duty, another by a reckless desire for adventure, and a third was just hoping to reap the spoils of war. Despite his warnings, they had chosen to pit their skills and determination against those of professional soldiers. Whether or not any of them would survive was impossible to say.
All Mason knew for sure was that he and his brave band of misfits were about to make one hell of a last stand.
Chapter 22
After their encounter with the Vega cartel, Tanner and Samantha decided to retreat from the airport and return to the Mount Vernon Trail. They could hear the gentle roar of the Potomac to their right, only occasionally spotting it through gaps in the thick trees. The trail finally ended as it intersected with the George Washington Memorial Parkway. The familiar concrete arches of the six-lane Key Bridge lay directly ahead.
“Is that how we’re getting back to Tannersville?” she asked.
He grinned. They had recently joked that cities could now be renamed at will, as if they were settlers laying clai
m to vast swaths of empty wilderness. Tannersville was obviously the side of the river with more violence and mayhem, whereas Samanthaburg offered a quiet, more thoughtful existence.
“It’s as good as any other,” he said, veering up a long grassy hill that led to the bridge’s entrance.
Like virtually every roadway in the city, the bridge was jammed with abandoned cars and trucks. A few drivers had attempted to navigate over concrete barricades skirting the bridge, only to find themselves irrevocably stuck with one wheel hovering over the adjacent sidewalk. Several of the rustic green lampposts had also been plowed over, leaving shards of thick glass scattered across the pavement.
Samantha looked back toward the west.
“It’s going to be dark soon.”
Tanner extended an open hand toward the horizon.
“We’ve still got another hour.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Your hand told you that?”
“It’s an old survival trick.” He turned and faced the sun with his hand raised again. “Every finger between the sun and the horizon corresponds to about fifteen minutes. Four fingers mean it’s an hour until sunset.”
She held out her hand with the index finger lined up with the bottom of the sun. Her pinky was not quite to the horizon.
“Pretty cool.” After a moment, she said, “I suppose I should be thankful that I found you, of all people.”
“Careful. If I didn’t know better, I might think that was a compliment.”
“Of course, it is,” she said, turning back and checking her hand against the sky again. “You know lots of useful tricks.”
“In other words, you’re saying I’m smart?”
“Smart? Uh, let me put it this way. My mom would say that when they were giving out brains, you were at the back of the line, eating cheese puffs.”
He chuckled. “I do like cheese puffs.”
A sad smile touched her lips.
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
They walked for a while without saying anything more.
“She used to say the funniest things.”
He nodded. “I wondered where you got that.”
“What do you mean? I don’t say funny things.”
“Of course you don’t.”
She peered off toward Washington, D.C.
“Where are we staying for the night, anyway?”
“You’ll see.”
Samantha looked at him with suspicion but decided not to press the point. Tanner was as stubborn as a mule and nearly as big as one too.
They crossed the Key Bridge and turned north, passing in front of a concrete building with black and white polka dots painted on the side. The sign out front read “Dixie Liquor.”
When he slowed, she said, “We don’t have time for that.”
He took another long look at the sky. She was right. They really didn’t have time. Still, a couple of bottles of beer might help to make a questionable decision go down a little more smoothly. He teetered with indecision for a moment, finally letting reason—and Samantha—win the day.
They continued along Canal Road. On one side of the street was the Foundry Branch Valley Park, and on the other, a narrow waterway. After their recent run-in with zoo animals, neither of them entertained the idea of going into the park. Instead, they stuck to the two-lane road, meandering their way north along the river. By the time they neared their destination, the road was cloaked in shadows.
Samantha had been whistling a soft little tune when she stopped abruptly.
“What?”
She pointed an accusatory finger ahead. “Look!”
An old two-story stone house lay directly in their path. It was the first residence they had seen in nearly a mile, and it was a house they both knew well.
Tanner cleared his throat. “Do you remember when I said that you weren’t going to like part of my plan?” He nodded toward the Abner Cloud House. “This is where that part begins.”
“We’re going back to him? But why?”
By “him,” she was referring to Dr. Victor Jarvis, the very man responsible for the outbreak of the Superpox-99 virus and the death of billions of people, including her own father.
“You were the one who said we needed him.”
“I was being nice.”
“Sam, think about what we’re about to do.”
“We’re going down into the tunnels to sneak into Mount Weather. So?”
“So, what’s down in those tunnels?”
“An army of zombies, which is why I said it was crazy to go down there in the first place.”
“Right. But what did the good doctor tell us about his blood?”
“His blood?”
He nodded, giving her time to recall their conversation.
“Something about it being the key to everyone getting along.”
“That’s right. Jarvis said that anyone with his blood in their veins wouldn’t be hated by the infected.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. How could the infected know what type of blood someone has?”
“Maybe they can smell it.”
“Smell blood?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. We’ll ask Jarvis.”
“Even if that’s true, which I’m not saying it is, how does that help us?” What he was proposing suddenly hit her, and Samantha’s face twisted like she was trying to swallow a spoonful of castor oil. “You want us to drink his blood?”
“Of course not. We’ll put it in with a transfusion.”
“Do you even know how to do that?”
“I’m sure Dr. Jarvis will know. Besides, how hard can it be? You poke a needle in each person’s arm and run a little hose between them.”
“Somehow that doesn’t sound right.”
He smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”
“What makes you think he’ll even give us his blood?”
“Who says he’ll have a choice?”
“We’re going to steal his blood? Like vampires?”
“After what that man did, a little blood is the least he could offer.”
“Still, it doesn’t mean that he will.”
“I’ve never had trouble getting blood out of people. You know that.” He started toward the Abner Cloud House. “Now, quit stalling and come on. The good doctor is waiting.”
She paused in the middle of Canal Road, watching as he carefully climbed over the stone wall that buffered the historic building from the street.
Tanner looked back. “You coming?”
For a moment, Samantha was reminded of when they had first met. He had asked her the very same question as the rumble of motorcycles slowly approached in the distance. At the time, he was a total stranger, a giant wearing a prison jumpsuit who in all likelihood had been planning to trade her for a can of beans. She had reluctantly followed him, blindly choosing to believe that he was the lesser of two evils.
The situation had changed, but the question remained the same. Tanner wasn’t asking if she was going to cross the street. That much had been decided when she chose to leave the cabin. What he was really asking was if she trusted him enough to travel all the way to the end of a very hard road.
That too, she thought, had already been determined. She couldn’t say exactly when the decision had been made. Perhaps it was when he had first rescued her from the burning building. Maybe it was when he had saved her from Agent Sparks, or battled the enormous creature in the East River Mountain Tunnel.
No, she thought. It wasn’t any of those times.
Their unbreakable bond wasn’t forged out of his willingness to protect her. If she were forced to pick a single moment when she knew for certain that their fates were forever joined, it was when he had first introduced her as his daughter. He would claim that it had been done solely out of convenience, a way to avoid awkward questions by people who might cause trouble, but she knew better. By identifying her as his daughter, Tanner had made a conscious decision to take her in
, to make her his own. And that, she thought, was when they both knew that wherever one went, the other would follow.
Tanner stared at her, clearly wondering what was going on in that mixed-up brain of hers.
“Yeah,” she said, pressing her lips together. “I’m coming.”
The Survivalist adventure continues with Last Stand…
Finest Hour Page 26