The Next World - RESISTANCE - Book 2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Jeff Olah

  Joshua looked like he was going to laugh. Standing and moving away from the bucket that now looked like it held more blood than water, he said, “Yeah, but then you’d be stuck in the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

  Jacob reached for his pack. “Yeah, maybe we do have a can opener, how very observant. But what about you?”

  Declan stared at the man, his eyes going wide. “What about me?”

  “We found the food, we have the can opener, and we cleared all three floors, almost without your help. What are you bringing to the table?”

  Declan wiped his hands on his shirt and reached into his waistband. He pulled the nine millimeter and looked at it as he started toward the suite. “I got this and plenty more. I would assume that fact alone would buy me a seat at your very small table.”

  Jacob again shook his head, his jaw beginning to tighten. “Josh, let’s go.” He moved past Declan and into the suite, holding his gaze as he moved to the windows at the far end of the massive room. “Were you this unlikable before two weeks ago or is it because of all of this?”

  Declan waited for Joshua to move into the room and then followed. At the windows, he slipped the pistol back into his waistband and peered out over the street below. “In some ways, I think people must have liked me even less before the world turned itself inside out. But then again, there are less people around now, so read into that what you will. But I’m pretty much the same guy that I was before, only now I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

  Joshua looked confused, like he got lost in Declan’s words. He waited a few seconds, dropped his pack to the floor, and pulled out a stainless steel, hand-held can opener. He smiled as he looked to Declan and handed it to Jacob. “Yep, you were right.”

  Jacob swiped it from Joshua and reached for the first can. “We eat first, then you can have whatever’s left over.”

  Normally he would have taken the younger man’s reluctance to back down as a slight, but tonight he found it a welcome change, and Jacob somehow intriguing. He usually wouldn’t have let it go on this long, but for some reason he was feeling uncharacteristically generous and needed to occupy himself until morning anyway. “Sounds fair.”

  As Jacob opened both cans, Joshua reached back into his pack. He pulled out a small stainless steel plate, a folding spoon, and a thirty-two ounce bottle of water. He reached for the first open can, poured half of it onto his plate, and leaned to the left, handing it to Declan. “Did you live in the city before the outbreak?”

  Declan took the can, and looked from it to Jacob and then back to Joshua. “Sometimes.”

  Joshua appeared nervous, or maybe again confused. “You lived in the city some—”

  “We don’t care.” Jacob had finished pouring out most of what was in his can, before setting it aside and turning to his brother. “You don’t need to talk to him. We aren’t staying here after tonight.”

  “But he’s got a gun and you said—”

  “Forget what I said before, he’s not like those others.”

  Declan sat with his back to the wall, now between the two brothers. He turned from Joshua to Jacob. “Looks like you boys might have a few things you need to work out. But how about for tonight you and I call a truce? I’ll take it down a notch and you do the same, maybe level-up the civility and get to know one another.”

  Jacob just stared back at Declan. He parted his lips like he was going to speak, but then didn’t. He only scraped together a spoonful of beans and tossed them into his mouth.

  As the twin in the red windbreaker began to chew, Declan dropped his chin slightly and set what was left in his can aside. “And you’re right.”

  “I’m right, about what exactly?”

  “You and your brother, I’ve taken advantage of the both of you, and I apologize. It was you who helped me get in here and it was you—well, mainly your brother—who found us something to eat. I shouldn’t have gone in on you the way I did earlier, it’s just that …”

  He paused, wanted to give his performance just the right amount of flavor. If he were going to sell what he had planned for the rest of the night, he was going to need to reel back the sarcasm and somehow lighten his menacing demeanor.

  And when neither of the men offered a response, Declan pushed the half empty can toward Jacob. He dropped his head back to the wall and stared through the windows. “It’s just that I’ve lost so many … sometimes I don’t even know why I keep going, why I haven’t …”

  His voice trailed off and the brothers looked first to one another and then to Declan. They didn’t speak, they just watched.

  “What is that?”

  Joshua turned back to his brother, shrugging his shoulders.

  Declan leaned away from the wall, sniffed at the air, and looked over his left shoulder into the hall. “You guys getting that?”

  Jacob shook his head. “No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

  “That smell.” Declan motioned toward the two cans, a smirk growing on his face. “I can’t tell what’s worse, those beans or what’s coming from the hall.” He looked from Joshua to Jacob and curled his nose. “You men have any air freshener in those packs?”

  His quick change in emotion caught Jacob off guard, and it was exactly what he’d wanted. The younger man looked like he was going to laugh, but only offered a half grin. “And here I thought that stench was coming from you.”

  Declan began to nod as he returned Jacob’s gesture. “If it were coming from me, neither of you would be able to stay in this room, I can guarantee that.”

  Joshua laughed out loud, and that seemed to please his brother. Then there were a few seconds where no one spoke, the air in the room beginning to lighten.

  “Hey.” Declan again peered through the windows, this time tilting his chin as he spoke. “You boys travel out here before or after everything went down?”

  As Jacob’s smile quickly began to fade, he sat up tall. “What?”

  “You obviously aren’t from around here.”

  “No.”

  “So wait, no don’t tell me. The Midwest, uh … I’d say Iowa, Arkansas, maybe even Nebraska.”

  Joshua turned to his brother, his look of disbelief saying everything Declan needed to know.

  “Good guess,” Jacob said without even a second of hesitation. “You spend time in Arkansas, have family there?”

  “Not that I know of. You two just don’t seem like you’d fit in around here, not before anyway.”

  There was a long pause where the twins just stared at one another, like they were trying to determine whether he had just given them a compliment or if this was something else. Jacob finally regarded Declan with a slow nod, folding his hands into his lap.

  “Thanks.”

  The room was once again his, now all he needed to do was bring it home. “Again, I apologize for earlier, I hope that the two of you will forgive—”

  Jacob stopped him. “Let’s not go back through it all, what’s done is done. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

  “Fair enough,” Declan said, “But as a sign of good faith, I’d go ahead and take first watch. You boys get some rest.”

  Jacob was almost standing before Declan finished. He reached for his pack and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ll go first. I’m not much for sleeping lately, and I want to get a feel for the rest of the building before I put my head down.”

  Declan couldn’t tell if Jacob was actually sincere or if he simply didn’t trust him. Although for the moment it didn’t matter, and he didn’t necessarily care. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and now just needed to ride it out until morning. “Okay,” he said, “but only if you let me take over at dawn, it’s the least I can do.”

  35

  Gentry woke with his neck in an odd position and his left leg tingling from hip to ankle. He didn’t remember drifting off or even where he and Margaret had left things. He thought he’d asked her to stay, at least until the storm passed, but even that was a bit hazy. The bottle o
f wine they’d split was the first he’d had in more than ten years, and this morning he was starting to remember why.

  To his right, the chair she’d last occupied was now empty, and looking around the room it appeared that she had cleaned up before leaving. There was now a folded blanket that had been laid over the top of the recliner, her glass and the bottle from the previous night now nowhere to be found.

  “Margaret?”

  His mouth felt dry and his tongue thick. His mucus like sour grapes. Sitting forward, he rubbed at his left leg, shaking it as he attempted to stand.

  “Margaret?”

  His voice seemed to echo through the room and down the stairs. The house again felt empty and sad, like it had the day he arrived. He had lived alone for most of his adult life, but this was different, if only for the fact that his apartment in the city could have easily fit in the space occupied by the living room.

  With his hand on the railing, he waited for his head to clear and his world to come to a complete stop. The odds of him missing a step and taking the hard way down were low, but with everything else going on, he just wanted to be sure.

  Through the downstairs hall and past the kitchen, he stood at the rear slider. Pulling back the shades only an inch or so, the scene was much different than the day before, even from eight hours ago.

  They were starting to bunch up in groups of threes and fours, much like he’d seen leaving his apartment in the city. This was a new phenomenon and something he didn’t have the chance to observe or test during his time with BXF. It also didn’t make much sense. In all the footage he’d gone through, they never seemed to be aware of one another, but on the other hand, the control groups were never larger than five or six.

  He made a quick mental note of their movement patterns and then pulled his hand back, letting the shades slowly glide back into one another. It seemed like something he should probably remember, something he may need to circle back to if ever given the opportunity.

  And before he let himself go too far down that road, he stepped away from the slider and turned toward the kitchen. Something was different, his subconscious must have picked up on it as he moved through the room before, but with his mind still partially recovering from the night before, he assumed it was still playing catch-up.

  He scanned the countertop, the cabinets, and then the face of the refrigerator. What the hell did she do?

  Shaking his head, he began to laugh. It was odd, although he really hadn’t gotten to know this side of her. The counter was clean, so much so, that if he hadn’t finished half a bottle of wine the night before, and his stomach wasn’t doing backflips, he could have eaten straight from the glossy marble.

  Also at the opposite end, his news clippings and notebooks had been stacked neatly a safe distance from the sink. She either hadn’t slept, and was just trying to keep herself busy, or had an extreme case of OCD.

  Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

  Around the sofa and starting toward the front door, he noticed something else. A single sheet of paper, turned at an angle to the rest of his documents. It was held down by a stainless-steel pen he didn’t recall being there the night before.

  She’d left him a note.

  Handwritten and only three lines.

  Dr. Gentry, thank you for sharing what you did last night.

  I’m still not sure I understand everything, but I do realize that you were trying to help, so again, thank you.

  P.S. – You are a lightweight.

  Margaret

  He took the note, quickly folded it, and started to smile. Gentry slipped it into his back pocket and looked around the room for anything else he may have missed. The walk-in pantry, the dining room beyond the kitchen, and the hall leading to the second bedroom, everything as it was eight hours before.

  Almost everything.

  As he made his way back through the hall, he stopped ten feet from the front door. The hope he’d had upon waking, the fading belief that she had simply taken one of the beds in another part of the home rapidly began to deteriorate. Although if he was being honest, he already knew what the deadbolt sitting in the unlocked position was telling him.

  She was gone.

  But where?

  The obvious answer, back to her house. But he knew that. What he didn’t know was where the information he’d shared would have taken her. What she thought she knew about the infection and if that had been a factor in her decision to leave.

  Gentry didn’t like the thought of her running around out there alone and liked it even less that he had been the reason. He should have known better than to open his mouth and now needed to somehow fix what he’d done. If not for her, then for his own peace of mind.

  Back to the office, Gentry set his pack on the desk chair. He loaded a change of clothes, the satellite phone and its charger, his notes, the Ruger SR9 he’d purchased six months before, and a bottle of antacid that sat near the computer monitor. He moved around to the filing cabinet opposite the desk and started with the top drawer.

  Within thirty seconds, he found them. If nothing else, Major Richard Daniels was predictable in all the right ways. The hanging file contained a county and three specific city maps, each highlighted with locations unknown to him. He didn’t care. They would more than serve his purpose.

  Find a way into the city using what he imagined would be the least traveled roads. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed better than running in blind. Natalie Mercer was there for him when no one else was; she put her entire career on the line for him and hadn’t blinked an eye. If she and her family were still out there, he was going to use anything and everything at his disposal to find them.

  But there was something he needed to do first.

  36

  Owen opened his eyes, wiped the edges of his mouth, and stretched his arms.

  He sat just outside the door to the conference room, having walked the halls between his family and Kevin more times than he cared to remember. His neck was stiff and his hands sore. It reminded him of a time when both of his children were under the age of six and sleep was a rare commodity. The pain in his joints and his heavy eyes were an annoyance, but the fact that he was still breathing air and his wife and children were fast asleep less than ten feet away had him appreciating all that he had left.

  With a quick peek back into the room, Owen scanned the faces of his family and the others he’d known for only the last few days. They seemed at peace, sleeping in hunched positions and awkward angles, looking as comfortable as anyone he’d ever seen. The peace of mind of having four secured walls and a roof overhead couldn’t be overstated.

  At least not now.

  At the other end of the hall, his friend had slept fitfully, awake more times during the night than not. In his previous check, probably less than an hour before, Kevin appeared to have finally drifted off. He wanted to let him get the rest he needed; however, there was something he needed to do.

  No way to get around it.

  He knew the time would come when he’d have to explain what he’d agreed to, but that didn’t make it any easier. In fact, for the last several hours, it was the only thing occupying his thoughts. And he was looking forward to finally getting beyond it.

  One last glance over his shoulder and he was on the move. He tried to imagine how he would frame the idea of how it all happened and was hoping there wouldn’t be a need to state the obvious. Kevin had gone through enough and literally adding insult to injury wasn’t going to be a path he’d willingly choose.

  Yeah, that’s not going to help.

  Voices came from the doorway twenty feet ahead. He recognized Kevin’s, it sounded better than it had the night before. More volume and less frailty. He sounded much like he had two days ago, before everything went to hell.

  The other was the man who had saved him and his family. He appeared to be whispering, it was difficult to make out even a single word. He imagined what they’d be talking about, and then it hit him.

&nbs
p; “Oh hell.”

  As he turned into the room, he saw that Travis had moved off the floor, and was now seated in a silver folding chair near the center of the room. And only feet from the door, where he had been for the last several hours, Kevin stirred in the leather office chair as Zeus sniffed at his arm and licked his hand.

  Owen stopped just past the threshold and stood with his back to the hall. He nodded to Travis and regarded Kevin with a quick grin. “Hey.”

  Kevin began to pull his right arm into his chest and was met with an instant reminder of the day before. His face tightened up, he arched his back slightly, and then clamped down on the arm of the chair with his right hand. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Hey yourself.”

  “You get much sleep?”

  “Not a lot.” Kevin ran his hand over Zeus’s head, turning to look toward the hall. “But I’m sure I got more than you.”

  “Maybe.”

  Kevin let out a stilted laugh and turned to Travis. “How many times did you hear him coming up here to look in on us? I stopped counting at eight, I think.”

  Travis had dipped down in his chair. He looked like he couldn’t have been less interested, or that he was avoiding whatever he thought this was leading to. “I don’t know.”

  “So …” Owen didn’t know how to start. He knew avoiding it didn’t make much sense and continuing with small talk was just going to stoke the anxiety he’d been working so hard to suppress. “Your truck.”

  Kevin pulled his hand away from Zeus, straightened a bit in the recliner. “What about my truck?”

  To his left, Travis no longer looked like he was about to drift off. He turned from Owen to Kevin, and then back.