“Pretty much the same as when you put her in the truck. She’s still crying. Not bawling or anything. She’s keeping a stiff upper lip so that it’s not real obvious to the others. But I see the tears.” Andy then performed his first act as the group’s new leader. He reached over and squeezed Chuck’s shoulder. “She’ll never forget you—none of us will.”
Chuck nodded but didn’t say anything.
“You still want to do this?”
Chuck took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
As Andy helped Chuck up to his feet, he said, “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get back to the others.”
“No problem. I won’t do anything until I’m sure you guys have gotten away and are safe.”
Then Andy offered his hand as one leader to another.
Chuck took it and said, “When my son is old enough to understand what happened, make sure that he knows why I did this.”
Andy covered their handshake with his other hand and said, “Sure thing, boss.” There was one last squeeze before he disappeared behind the tree line as stealthily as he came.
Chuck’s empty right hand was still extended as he stared at the darkness where Andy disappeared. A moment later he made his own tracks in the opposite direction. Jamestown lay just down the road.
~~~
Chuck was beginning to wonder if anyone at all was still awake. He had worked his way in close to the heart of Jamestown and he hadn’t seen any guards yet. The flicker of fires still danced across the faces of the buildings at the next cross street, but he saw no shadows or movement in them. He pressed against the brick façade of on old store and inched closer to the intersection. There was a shell of a burnt out four-door sitting along the curb, not more than fifteen feet from the corner of the building. From there he would be able to see the fires and any activity around them.
He took a sweeping scan of the surrounding roof tops and streets. No one was watching. He crouched low to the ground and shuttled past the corner of the building, out into the open for a second, and then found the pavement behind the scorched sedan. With his back to what remained of the rear bumper, he slowly pushed himself up. As the back of his head followed the curve of the trunk, he looked over his shoulder and saw the bonfires down the street. The closest one was about half-a-block down. The fires were still going strong, but not raging like they had been earlier in the night.
There were two guards sitting on the curb in front of an old two-story brick building. The first floor of the building was dark, but the second floor was lit up from a torch or lantern. Chuck squinted as he looked at the dark sign hanging ten feet over the heads of the two guards posted outside. It was an old neon type with a black background that made it nearly impossible to make out, but it looked like it read ‘The Vault’. He lowered back down behind the car.
It was probably an old bank that someone converted to a bar or restaurant before the End. Based on the light it looked like someone was upstairs. But where was everyone else?
Chuck rose back up and looked at the buildings on each side of The Vault. There was an old, three-story hotel on the side closest to him. By the looks of it, it was probably big enough to house forty or so men if sleeping three or four to a room.
He caught the fire’s reflection off some broken glass in front of a building a half block farther down on the other side of the street. It looked like another bar, one that they had trashed. That meant some men could still be in there. Passed out or not, they would come running if they heard gunshots.
He was about to ease back down behind the car when a man walked out of the trashed bar. Actually calling it a man wasn’t as accurate as calling it a mountain that moved on two legs. He was a big, strapping redhead that walked with a heavy gait. The man walked up to one of the guards sitting on the curb in front of The Vault and sneered at him. A second later he raised his foot and rammed the heel of his boot into the side of the man’s head. The guard’s rifle slid across the sidewalk as he flipped shoulder over shoulder in a painful roll along the cement. The second guard jumped up from his sleep as the big redhead snatched the guard he kicked by the throat. Chuck watched in disbelief as the burly man shook the helpless guard like a rag doll. Then he yelled something at the man. The volume was easily audible, but the man’s words slurred into one continuous triad of fury. Whatever he said, both guards must have understood, because when he let go of the one, they both ran back to the exact spots where they were sleeping before, except this time they stood at rigid attention.
Chuck ducked down as the big redhead took a sweeping scan of the street. By the time he raised himself back up, the man was clearing his throat and spitting onto the street. The man turned around and headed back for the bar with the shattered window. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds after he disappeared through the door of the establishment, that a man flew out the broken window, hit the sidewalk, and rolled onto the street.
Chuck eased down again and took a seat behind the car. He opened the backpack sitting on the ground next to him and looked at the three bundles of dynamite. Not yet. He pulled his rifle against his chest and closed his eyes. Every second he could wait gave Cindy and Andy a little more time to get away.
Cindy.When he closed his eyes he could picture the tears in her eyes as she nodded that she understood why he had to do what he was going to do. He could still feel how hard she pulled him to her body. The fact that he had to practically pry himself free of her loving hug brought a smile to his face. He could still taste her lips from their last kiss. He remembered the weight of her body as he kept her from collapsing on the way to the truck, and then his smile faded. That brought back the look in her eyes as he shut the door. They stared through the window at each other for a long moment—both knowing that it would have to last them the rest of their lives.
Chuck pulled in another deep breath as he opened his eyes and rubbed the blood back into his face. If there had been another way—he would have jumped at it. But there wasn’t. He knew it, and so did she.
He pulled the pistol out of his pocket, checked the clip and then laid it on the road next to the backpack. The wait was starting to take its toll on his nerves. Anxiety was beginning to show in the jerkiness of his movements. He had to relax, become smooth and fluid like the wind.
Then a man yelled, “Mark!”
He looked over the scorched trunk to a set of French doors that opened up to a small balcony on the second floor of The Vault. Standing there with his hands planted on the wrought iron railing was the man in the canvas duster. It was Jason.
The big redhead came lumbering up from the bar down the street. He stopped under the balcony, and between pants yelled up, “Yes Sir…What can I…do you for?”
Jason yelled down, “Bring me the gimp!”
The big redhead trotted to the door of the hotel.
About a minute later Chuck heard the screams of a young girl, screams that he recognized deep in his soul. Everything else took a back seat as he popped up over the trunk and stared at the entrance to the building. The door swung back open in the middle of his next breath and his world stopped for a brief instant. He saw her. The strength left his muscles and he slid back to the ground behind the car. It was Teresa! They had her bound at the wrists. She wasn’t dead. But by the looks of the torn clothes, bruises, and blood-covered jeans, death would have been more humane.
Chuck shut his eyes and clenched his fists as the images of what they had done to her plagued his mind. His anger started to build as the tension swept down from his shoulder and into his chest. He fought down a swallow and then pushed himself back up the trunk to where he could see.
Mark dragged Teresa kicking and clawing through the front door of The Vault. A minute later he came out alone, paused between the two rigid guards, and looked around before heading back for the trashed bar.
Jason walked out on to the balcony with Teresa held firmly at his side. He walked her out to the end and then shoved her out in front of him and started moving her from side t
o side like he was displaying her for someone to see. But other than the two guards, there wasn’t anyone else around.
Jason slowly scanned the street and buildings as he grabbed a fistful of Teresa’s hair. When he finished, he bent over and whispered something that immediately got her crying and pleading as she squirmed to get free. As Chuck shifted his weight over his toes, Jason yanked her around in front of him and shoved his hand down the front of her jeans. Her scream came instantly.
Chucked winced as he snapped up the rifle, slung it over the trunk of the car and took aim on Jason. His lower jaw continued to tremble, as he heard her scream even louder while he positioned the crosshairs on Jason’s head. He felt the sharp curve of the trigger as he focused on Jason’s temple, but then his vision blurred. For a second he no longer saw Jason’s head through the scope, instead he saw the buck from his first hunt with his dad. He felt his dad’s whisper against his ear, “You don’t want the creature to suffer.”
Chuck blinked as he pulled his thoughts back to the present. Before he could pull the trigger, Jason turned and walked back inside with Teresa.
He hammered his fist against his thigh as he dropped back behind the car. As he did, he found strength in the man staring back at him from the mirror, and remembered Andy’s words. ‘We all thought that you could kill Jason—every last one of us’. He peeked over the trunk at the closed French doors and twisted as Teresa’s blood curdling pleas for Jason to stop ate at the pit of his stomach.
He was beginning to shake all over as he pushed the pistol under the waistband of his jeans. He remembered swearing that Jason wouldn’t take another soul from him. He looked at the backpack and then at the hotel next to The Vault. Most of the men were in there. Before he could plan his next move, Teresa screamed again and all reason left his mind.
He slung the rifle back over the trunk, targeted one guard’s bobbing chest under his shaky aim, and pulled the trigger. Before the slight kick of the rifle could find his shoulder, he grabbed the backpack and ran.
The guard went down as Chuck struggled to grab the dynamite in the backpack while sprinting at full speed. At the last second he had to come to a complete stop in front of the hotel.
The other guard screamed, “Intruder!”
Chuck latched onto one of the bundles at the same time the guard drew aim on him and fired. The bullet passed overhead as he bent over, lit the flare, and hurled the bundle through the door of the hotel in one sweeping motion. He shoved his hand back into the bag and managed one stride toward The Vault before the flash. In the blink of an eye, he found himself on his back several feet from where he last stood. For a second, he was dazed and didn’t know what happened. Then the adrenaline sparked him back to life. He ignored the pain and blood trickling from his ears, jumped back to his feet, picked up the backpack lying next to the curb, and ran for The Vault. As he fumbled in mid-stride for the second bundle, something slapped his left shoulder and spun him around.
As soon as he hit the asphalt he tried to jump back up, but his left arm buckled and he dropped back to the street face first. He rolled onto his side and saw his left arm covered in blood. Then movement caught his attention and he jerked around in time to see the big redhead standing over him. Mark said something as he straightened his arm out to where the barrel of his rifle hovered just over Chuck’s face. But Chuck couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.
Just when it looked like Mark was going to pull the trigger, Chuck saw the middle of the redhead’s T-shirt flap out from his body as if it were caught by a gust of wind. Mark rocked and instead of pulling the trigger, he pressed his hand against a small red patch soaking through the white cotton of his shirt.
Their eyes met for a split second and then anger filled Mark’s face as he said something and turned around.
Chuck tilted his head back and saw another man standing two buildings down on the sidewalk with a rifle across his forearm. There was a flash and a small puff of smoke. He looked up in time to see blood spray from the top of Mark’s shoulder where the round ripped out a chunk of flesh and shirt. He glanced back at the man who fired the shot. The first thing he noticed was that the man was missing his left hand. As the flicker of the flames from the burning hotel and bonfire illuminated his face, he saw who it was. It was Mike Cameron. He wasn’t dead.
Chuck’s hope was short-lived as a flash lit the night air directly over him. He saw the look of surprise on Mike’s face as he staggered back and slowly lowered the rifle as if it were too heavy for him to hold. A moment later the rifle slipped from his grasp and Mike collapsed.
The whole exchange lasted only a few seconds, but it was all the distraction Chuck needed. He snatched the pistol out of his pocket, rolled onto his back and started firing as Mark swung back toward him. For close to five seconds a constant flame shot from the tip of its barrel as Chuck emptied all fifteen rounds from the clip. Mark bounced on the balls of his feet as shot after silent shot struck him in the stomach, chest and neck. It wasn’t until the flame at the end of the barrel stopped, that the weight of the big redhead came back down hard on his heels. Chuck saw him falling and rolled out just before the man’s knees buckled and he crashed down on the street.
Deaf to any screams and gunshots from those running out of the ransacked bar, Chuck grabbed his backpack and yanked out another bundle of dynamite. As he struck the flare across the asphalt he looked up at the second floor of The Vault. Jason was back out on the balcony with Teresa, holding her flaccid body upright with one arm. The bastard knew it was coming and he wasn’t even trying to get away.
You’re not taking her! Something stung Chuck’s right thigh as he reared his arm back and hurled the dynamite. As the means to Jason’s salvation toppled end over end through the air, Chuck saw Teresa open her eyes. In that brief instant their eyes met and they were together again. With God as his witness, he could feel her in his arms. He was her father and she was his daughter. Chuck didn’t try to run or duck. He held her loving stare and returned her smile for that brief moment of peace before the sun lit up the night.
Chuck didn’t feel anything until he woke on the curb across the street. Even then he didn’t really feel any pain. Instead he felt strangely warm and relaxed. Lying face down in a warm puddle on the sidewalk, he watched as the few men and women still alive ran around looking for answers. He saw their screams and cries but heard nothing. A few even ran right past him, apparently believing he was already dead.
He could have been. All he could think about was Cindy and their son standing at the cliff. As he started to picture her, it was different this time. He felt that as she pointed toward the setting sun, he could hear her tell their son that his father came from over there. That’s the dream he hoped to fall asleep with.
Just as he knew that Jason was dead, he knew that Andy would lead Cindy and the others safely to Scotland. Yet there was still something that wouldn’t allow Chuck to rest. Something still tugged at his heart that he had to make right. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw Becky and he reached out for her. She was silently weaving her way through the people clamoring on the street. As each rise of his chest came weaker than the last, he knew that she was coming to take him back. He would fall into her arms and feel the same warmth and relaxation he felt when he saw her in his dreams. She would bring him rest. Just as he was about to close his eyes and welcome her, she smiled and he pulled his next breath in deeper.
Chapter 47
Summer came and went three more times before the story started circulating around the villages about a farmer who claimed to have seen a bird. At first, people nervously laughed it off. But then a woman living in Duns Castle in Berwickshire said that she almost fainted when she saw a bird flying overhead too.
A year later, a young boy playing in the shallow waters along the rocky coast suddenly jumped out of the water and started screaming as he ran back to the village. When the elders asked him what was wrong, he said, “Something moved in the water…it touched my leg.�
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Not all species were entirely wiped out by the bug. As time went on, the New World came to understand and teach about the End. All living creatures that existed prior to the End could be grouped into one of four categories. The first category contained those creatures unaffected by the disease—like most of the insects. The second covered those species that were completely wiped out from the outbreak—where none were resistant to the disease. The third category covered those species where some initially survived the outbreak, but died off later due to the break in the food chain―thiscategory was more speculation than fact―it was based on the collected observations that humans appeared to be the only carnivores that survived. The theory was that undoubtedly a few other species initially survived the outbreak, but then starved into extinction because they couldn’t adapt to the scarcity of food.
The fourth category comprised the New World. It included humans and a few other species. Like Andy’s group, the New World not only initially survived the outbreak, but also learned how to adapt their life to the resources available to them. At last count this category had comprised roughly three dozen species. The most exciting aspect of this last category was that just about the time that everyone thought the count was firm, another species would be seen.
It reinforced the first lesson that Cindy taught her son. She told him that nature has a resilient backbone—as long as those selected to bear the burden have the will to keep hope alive.
Chapter 48
The gears produced a soft whine as the convoy of electric cars passed the ‘Welcome’ sign on State Road 7. Cindy didn’t say anything and neither did Andy, but she knew he saw it too. Someone had whited-out the old town name of ‘Madison’ on the welcome sign. It now read ‘Ferryman’.
She remembered the rotten backpack they found in Jamestown. It wasn’t close to any of the three dozen skeletal remains scattered about the street. Instead, it was lying on an open spot of asphalt along a line of parked cars. Unlike most of the other cars around town, the cars in that line weren’t burned out. They had been sitting there for nearly eight years, right where Jason and his men had left them.
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