The Third Wave: Eidolon

by John O'Brien

  The 190-grain bullet sailed out of the barrel, keeping a relatively flat trajectory but eventually losing the war with gravity as it was exponentially pulled downward. Still arriving with tremendous force, it slammed into the man’s neck, tearing through the soft tissue as if it didn’t exist. It hit a portion of the spinal cord, fracturing and tearing away part of a vertebra before exiting with a spray of blood. Sam watched as the man’s head tilted to one side, red liquid spurting out in streams every second. The man went to his knees and flopped backward over his heels, the streams of blood slowing and then stopping altogether. As with the woman, the apparition rose and faded.

  Sam observed the compound for a few minutes. Assured that other reapers weren’t going to show themselves, he walked back to his horse and reloaded before climbing into the saddle. The fact that he didn’t see any others didn’t mean they weren’t there. Riding forward, he readied his AR-15, listening for the sound of additional reapers above the soft clop of the horse’s hooves on the dirt road.

  The road dropped down into the small valley and right up to the lodgepole-fenced compound where it then made a sweeping half circle. Sam watched the cabins and searched the other outbuildings and propane tanks, the main lodge, and the stables across the way.

  At the entrance, Sam proceeded on foot, walking under a hanging wooden sign proclaiming that he was entering the Elk Lake Resort. The herds of antelope on the open plains and the clue of the resort’s name gave a good indication of there being good hunting in the area. And the ripples on the lake meant fishing.

  This place holds promise, he thought.

  Searching the main lodge, he found a couple of decaying corpses. Spoiled milk and meat along with rotten vegetables added to the atrocious stench. Even so, the idea of staying in this location was a stronger lure than traveling across the country. Cleaning up the place meant a lot of work, but it was certainly livable.

  With the neckline of his shirt over his nose and the reek nearly gagging him with every inhalation, Sam found a large stock of canned goods in the kitchen. In addition, he verified that the stoves worked on propane. A hot water heater also turned out to be propane-based. To conserve whatever still remained, he shut off the supply and heard the pilot light fizzle out. Locating a furnace that heated the main lodge, he did the same to it.

  Outside, the first breath of clean air was refreshing, but it contained a hint of feces, torn bowels, and the iron smell of blood from the two bodies lying in the field. However, compared to the interior of the lodge, it was like the first gasp of air after surfacing from being underwater too long.

  A check of the cabins and other structures didn’t reveal any other reapers, only one corpse on a bunk in one of the cabins. In one of the barns, piles of cut wood were stacked, filling nearly the entire interior. Another held bales of hay and feed for the horses. The pump house had a hand pump, and cold water splashed to the concrete floor as Sam worked it. The propane tanks read nearly full in anticipation of the folks that had been booked for later in the summer.

  Yeah, there will be plenty of cleanup required, Sam thought, standing in the middle of the field near the recent corpses. But otherwise, it’s perfect.

  He turned a slow circle, wiping sweat from this face and looking out over the mirrored surface of the lake, to the outlying hills, and to the mountain chain in the distance. Sam knew that it wouldn’t be dancing unicorns and fairies sporting golden sparkles of glitter—the winters would be harsh and cold—but if they prepared well, they’d have shelter and food. Sam did a second sweep just to make sure, but then waved Erin forward. He didn’t move the outside corpses as Erin had now seen several dead bodies, but he kept her from entering the one cabin and main lodge; there wasn’t any use subjecting her to that.

  “It’s beautiful, Daddy,” Erin responded after he told her that they might stay, that this may become their new home.

  “But, first, we need to ride a little further to see how far this extends. If we reach the interstate and still find reapers, then we’ll return and begin to set up shop. Before we go, though, we need to stable the other horses. We’ll leave them here while we head out,” Sam explained. “And then we’ll head down to the lake and have something to eat.”

  They removed the gear, packs, and saddles, giving the horses a rubdown before turning them loose in the fenced pasture. Heading down to the dock, they sat on the wooden surface, dangling their legs over the side. Nary a breath of wind stirred, but the boats creaked every so often as they rubbed against the wood. The two heard an occasional splash from across the lake as they gulped down cold ravioli from cans.

  “It’s not a picnic down by the river, but I think it’s just as good,” Sam mentioned.

  “It’s even better, Daddy,” Erin replied with a huge grin.

  “Okay, kiddo, we need to get going,” Sam said, rising with a groan after their lunch.

  His legs and lower back were beginning to get sore from the riding and his inner legs were chafed. He wasn’t looking forward to climbing back into the saddle, knowing that it would only get worse. They still had a long way to ride if they were going to get to the freeway and back before dark.

  Heading back to the road, they followed it, eventually hooking in to a paved two-lane that continued to the base of the steeply rising chain of mountains where it swung west toward the interstate. They’d have to skirt around several ranch houses, Sam opting to go around rather than take the time to clear them. However, he marked their locations on the map for future use. They were very few and far between, some places only outbuildings holding fodder in the midst of fenced pastures. It seemed that all of the actual residences had horses standing in corrals. He had hoped to find cattle, but the only ones he’d seen were back near the original house they’d left.

  The sparseness would aid with their scavenging in that there wouldn’t be too many reapers around, unless there was some kind of cult or something. Even though they gave each place a wide berth, Sam didn’t see much activity in or around the houses or outbuildings. The day wore on; Erin’s optimism of horseback riding seeming to diminish somewhat as she frequently stood in her stirrups to give her rump a rest.

  The road began descending through a series of hills. Sam halted at a turnoff that afforded a good view of the land beyond. Standing in his stirrups, he glassed the interstate and small town of Monida sitting near the freeway. As he suspected but had hoped against, he saw several reapers in the streets and among the stalled vehicles occupying the four lanes of the divided highway. That and the lack of contrails in the skies above or response from any agency pretty much confirmed it for him. Whatever had happened must have occurred worldwide.

  Turning around, they backtracked to the resort. After finding the Elk Lake campsite, Sam felt a little better than he had at the outset of their journey. Even though he didn’t know the area well, he no longer felt the urge to go back home. They had what they needed and would be able to scavenge. It wouldn’t be easy, but it wouldn’t be impossible either.

  Arriving back with the sun setting low over the hills, Sam unsaddled the horses and gave them a rubdown. With the shadows deepening, he checked out the resort again and then hauled their gear to one of the cabins. Inside, there was a small kitchen area with a picnic-like table in front of a woodstove. A short hallway led to two bedrooms in the back, each holding two sets of bunk beds. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy.

  In the dying light, Sam spread sleeping bags on two bottom bunks, and they opened more cans of ravioli. Before turning in for the night, they each used an outhouse. The main lodge had a regular bathroom, but there wasn’t any way that he’d use that until they’d cleaned the place out. Closing the curtains, orangish light seeping through cracks, Sam laid down on a bunk, his butt, thighs, and lower back screaming in protest.

  Over the next few days, they made trips back to the original house, carting back everything they could manage: weapons, ammo, food, blankets, sleeping bags, winter clothing, tools, camping and horse suppli
es, matches and flint lighters, med kits, iodine tablets, water purifiers, etc. They rescued all of the horses they had found, stabling them along with the rest. That brought the total number of horses to fifteen. During the summer, the horses could free range on the large grassy field, but they’d need the fodder already stored for the winter months. Sam thought there was a good chance of keeping the herd going with the mix of mares and stallions.

  There was a separate fenced pasture within the resort area, complete with another, smaller stable. On one of the trips, Sam had attempted to herd some of the cattle to the resort, which ended in only partial success. Neither he nor Erin knew what they were doing, and so they had managed to lose a few along the way. Sam had thought it would be easy, just nudging the strays toward the main grouping, but he’d ended up thinking that cats would have been easier.

  Sam cleared out the bodies and rotten food, rigging a sled out of poles and tarps to haul them a ways out of camp so predators didn’t creep in too close. Sam knew that, somewhere out in the wilds, nasty-tempered grizzlies prowled. They’d have to watch out for any food they stored outdoors, because that could bring the sort of thing that could ruin a day.

  Do you want grizzlies? Because that’s how you get grizzlies, he thought.

  It took a lot of time to remove the fodder from the remote storage barns they came across. The bales were heavy and unwieldy, but the fodder barn was slowly filled to capacity. The many trips left the inside of Sam’s legs raw, but in the end, it was worth it to have their little stretch of paradise. The summer would involve hard work, but there were plenty of resources and they could remain hidden. If the world somehow returned, so be it, but they were good either way.

  “This is our new home,” Erin said at the end of one day, settling beneath her blankets.

  Staying in the small cabin, Sam and Erin began fixing up the place. The first thing was to remove the flooring from one of the cabins, building an interior set of steps down to the ground. The idea was to create a large smokehouse so that they could safely store meat through the winter. The inside walls were shored up and the bunks removed. Blankets were hung to completely separate the rooms at ground level, and fire pits were made, effectively creating several isolated smoke rooms. Poles were roped to make tripods over the fire pits and wire was strung throughout. There were plenty of hardwood copses to provide wood. He’d use the trunks for the fires, throwing on soaked limbs and leaves with the idea that they needed to create smoke, not heat.

  The huge woodshed had enough wood to last them for a long while, so there wasn’t a need to start cutting down trees and letting them cure over the summer. That would come in subsequent years, but they were spared it for the time being. At the end of each day, they bathed in the lake and washed their clothes.

  Sam took Erin out and taught her to fish with the poles and lures found in the main lodge. That evening before the sun set, the sizzle and smell of frying trout filled the kitchen of the main lodge.

  They had to hand carry any water they used from the well house, but that wasn’t a great task in the summer. However, before winter began, they’d have to figure out a way to keep the well house heated. It was currently wired electrically, but that wasn’t an option any longer. And vegetables would be required. They’d have to set up a greenhouse and locate crops to plant.

  Before truly settling in to their new place, they set out to forage several of the outlying ranches they had observed from a distance. The idea was to be as self-sufficient as possible and not have to venture outside of the resort. That would take some time, possibly a year or two, but afterward, the reapers could have their world and the two of them would have theirs, with hopefully neither of them ever meeting again.

  Sam checked the surrounding area from time to time, as he wasn’t sure of the reaper’s overall ability to sustain themselves. However, he wasn’t too worried. The harsh winters should ensure that none of them would survive the bitter cold. They may have had the instincts to seek shelter or they may not, thus the need to keep tabs on them. For him and Erin, they’d work through the summer months to ready themselves for surviving the winters. In the back of his mind was the thought that Erin would outlive him, and Sam wanted to make a place where she could comfortably live out the rest of her life; to give her the skills necessary to survive. He’d wait for her on the other side.

  Scouting the ranches, Sam found two discoveries that enhanced their chances. One was a moderate flock of chickens. After removing the flooring in one of the cabins and creating a lockable hatch entry, along with ramps to nests, they returned and dismantled the surrounding wire fencing and transported the chickens in a pull cart he found, making several trips to complete the process. Taking extra piping from a storage shed, a woodstove was lowered to the ground to provide a source of heat during the winter for the chickens.

  They found a small greenhouse, which they dissembled and rebuilt, along with the plants inside. Sam dug up a bed of potatoes, which they replanted. They spent the course of days removing woodstoves from the other cabins and erecting them in the stables, with one going in the pump house. Wood was stockpiled in all locations in order to save trips to the wood barn. They’d have to make numerous trips in the cold to keep the woodstoves going, essential for the survival of the horses, cattle, chickens, and to keep the water flowing. Sam attached long coils of rope to all of the buildings so that they’d be able to navigate to each of them. The last thing they needed was to become disoriented in the whiteout of a blizzard and get lost.

  Over time with the numerous trips to outlying areas, Sam’s inner thighs and butt adjusted to the riding. They developed a schedule of working on the resort in the mornings, putting the horses out to graze, gathering eggs, and other chores. In the afternoons, Sam focused on teaching Erin to shoot the guns and bow, along with hunting techniques, foraging, basic repair, medical techniques, tracking, and even some battle tactics. In the later afternoons, they bathed in the lake to conserve the propane, and, in the dying light of the day, returned exhausted to their cabin.

  On one hunting trip, Erin managed to take down an antelope with the .270 hunting rifle. Even though Erin gagged more than a few times, Sam showed her how to gut an animal and skin it, then how to cut the meat into sections. Those in turn were cut into smaller pieces, slabs for steaks and strips for jerky, and put into the smoking cabin. He then showed her tanning techniques and forced Erin to learn even though she threw up the first few times when he cracked the skull, extracted the brain, and mixed it with ashes to properly tan the hide. They’d eventually need to make their own clothing—theirs wouldn’t last forever, and they wouldn’t be able to just jaunt down to the local Walmart or Macy’s to pick out more. The days of manufacturing had passed and they were reduced to making their own items.

  Sam was proud of the way Erin had taken to her training. Since the accident, she’d had some difficulties linking separate ideas into new concepts. She wasn’t able to form the bridge between one idea and another, unable to understand the link between them. The docs had said that she over-compartmentalized information and couldn’t break through those walls to see things as a whole in some instances. However, that hadn’t proven to be the case with regards to learning outdoor skills. She’d taken to them as if they were an ingrained part of her. She was able to analyze wind drift and distance, putting the two together with ease to calculate an aim point. When tracking, Erin could not only determine direction of travel, but whether their quarry was walking or running. In many instances, she was able to look up and determine where they would be with uncanny accuracy. There were still some times when she had trouble, but those became rarer as time went on.

  The summer turned to fall with the days becoming colder and the skies cloudier. The leaves turned into golds, then reds, and then spiraled down to fill the ground under the boughs. They moved into the main lodge and began lighting the woodstove in the evenings. One of the cows was slaughtered and smoked, the meat wrapped up and stored. As the waters of
the lake became colder, they turned on the propane to the hot water heater. Every couple of days, they brought buckets up to the solar shower they had set up in the bathroom. In all, they began the process of hunkering down in advance of the first winter storms.

  Steel gray clouds formed over the western mountains, the higher ones sweeping forward of the main gathering. Chill winds churned the lake and stirred up the dead leaves. The windows rattled from stronger gusts, the whir of the wind heard through the ventilation shafts in the kitchen. Sam filled a fifty-gallon drum with water near a bathroom so they wouldn’t have to go out every time they had to flush. The leaden skies drew closer, the sun vanishing behind the approaching weather, the blue skies consumed by the approaching storm. The gusts quickened, the lake turning the color of molten lead and forming white caps. Sam made sure the animals were in their stalls and coops, lighting the woodstoves and making a last check of the ropes.

  A gust of wind shook the lodge, signaling the arrival of the front. The fast-moving cold front blasted the landscape with strong winds, the once sunny resort draining of color. In the swirling wind, the first white flakes began to fall, at first disappearing as they were absorbed into the ground and then dusting the land. Sam and Erin spent their first forced time indoors lounging in the comfortable sitting room, reading books found in the small library. As he turned the third page in a book he had selected, he made a mental note to procure more books when the weather cleared in the spring. Outside, the snow depth reached an inch, then two, then eight. From time to time, Sam donned a pair of boots, slid on a winter jacket, gloves, and hat, then headed out to stoke the woodstoves. As he watched the accumulation, he thought about the Challenger sitting by the side of the road, slowly becoming covered in snow.

  The winters were indeed harsh, with storm after storm arriving. Not that there weren’t clear days, when the sunlight blindingly gleamed off the blanket of snow covering the land. Ice hung from branches and eaves of the cabins and lodge. The lake didn’t completely freeze, and the blue-gray of the waters, with snow banks hanging over the edges, promised a quick journey to the land of hypothermia. During those breaks, there was the crunch of snow under Sam and Erin’s boots as they let the cattle and horses out into the snow-covered fields to stretch their legs.