Blue Plague: Hope: Book Seven

by Watson, Thomas A

  “Been there and done that and have the t-shirt,” Mike said.

  “Like I haven’t,” Bruce snorted, grabbing a can of shaving cream. “Is Nancy still with them?”

  “She hasn’t come out of the shower trailer, so I’m taking it she is,” Mike said as Bruce lathered up his head and face. “Bruce, one of the troops that was bitten is still alive.”

  Holding the razor, Bruce’s hand froze. “Come again?”

  “Yes, Sandy says he showing signs of innate immunity. She doesn’t think he will change,” Mike said, grabbing another chair and sitting down.

  “What of the others?”

  “One changed an hour after landing and the last one changed the next morning,” Mike said.

  Carefully shaving around his goatee, “Sandy think she can copy the innate immunity?” Bruce asked.

  “To be honest, I have no fucking idea what she said,” Mike huffed.

  Rinsing his razor off, “Well, how long before she thinks the troop is no longer at risk?” Bruce asked.

  “She can’t find the virus in his system.”

  Looking in the mirror, Bruce continued shaving. “Keep him isolated for a week, then bring him back in the clan,” Bruce said.

  Finished shaving, Bruce rinsed his head as Ted and Carl walked over from the shower trailer. “How can you shave your head that fast?” Ted asked, stopping at a sink.

  “Years of practice,” Bruce said.

  “It takes me longer to shave my head than to shower,” Ted huffed, rubbing his shaved head.

  “Hey, that was your idea, not mine,” Bruce snapped.

  “Nancy, will you please put me down?” they heard Angela whine.

  They all turned to see a soaked Nancy carrying Angela with the girls and Stephanie following. “Angela…,” Nancy started then just rolled her eyes.

  “You didn’t have to wash me!” Angela snapped.

  Putting Angela in one of the chairs, Nancy stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t quit yelling at your belly,” she said.

  “Bruce’s kid is using my bladder as a trampoline!”

  Crossing her arms, Nancy looked at Angela. “It’s in your belly, so it’s yours also,” Nancy grinned.

  “Bullshit, my kid wouldn’t torment me like this,” Angela huffed.

  Clearing his throat, “Ah, Nancy? You said the same thing when you were pregnant with Matt,” Mike said.

  “He only became my baby boy when he got here, he was yours while I carried him,” she chuckled.

  Grabbing Stephanie’s arm, Bruce guided her to a chair. When she sat down, Bruce grabbed his can of shaving cream. “Bruce, do Angela first,” Stephanie said. “She’s not kidding about peeing all the time.”

  Laughing, Bruce got on his knees and lathered Angela’s legs. Angela and Stephanie stared in awe as he shaved her legs rather quickly. “Shit, you shave my legs better and faster than I do,” Angela cried out.

  “In all fairness, your legs aren’t that long,” Bruce chuckled as Danny, Mary, and Buffy walked up with wet hair.

  “Daddy, I want to cut my hair short,” Buffy said with a stern face.

  Tossing the razor in the sink, Bruce stood up and put his hands on his hips. “When you can kick my ass, then go right ahead,” he growled.

  “Told you,” Danny whispered, walking away.

  “Daddy,” Buffy whined.

  Holding up his hand, “Until you get married, no,” Bruce said.

  Danny huffed, sitting down, “You said the same thing to me and is my hair short?”

  “Matt took my side,” Bruce snapped.

  “I have to take care of it!” Danny shouted.

  A grin split Bruce’s face, “Then you can shave your head like mine.”

  A snarl appeared on Danny’s face as Matt moved over beside her. “I’ll brush it for you,” he said and Danny looked at him, letting the snarl go.

  “Okay,” she sighed.

  “Married?!” Buffy shouted.

  Kneeling down, Bruce lathered up Stephanie’s legs. “Yep,” he said, grabbing the razor.

  Watching her Dad shave Stephanie’s legs, Danny leaned over to Matt. “When I get pregnant, you are doing that for me,” she whispered.

  “I still cut my own face,” Matt cried out.

  “Don’t care,” Danny said.

  A loud engine drove up and everyone turned to see a huge tracked vehicle pull up. It looked like an MRAP with tank tracks. “What the hell is that?” Bruce asked glancing up then went back to shaving.

  “Joe and Harry are working on new vehicles more designed for this war,” Mike said.

  Finished, Bruce wiped Stephanie’s legs off and stood up. “Kind of a waste of resources,” Bruce said, rinsing his razor off. “We can modify stuff already built.”

  “I told them they could,” Mike said as Nancy grabbed a towel, drying off. “How did you get so wet?” Mike asked looking at her.

  “Hello?” Nancy sang out. “You don’t remember washing my lower legs because I couldn’t reach them?”

  “Oh,” Mike nodded.

  “I told you that you didn’t have to,” Angela said, looking down and holding her shaved legs up, smiling.

  Drying her hair, “I was serious about spanking your butt if you wouldn’t hold still,” Nancy said.

  “I think I would’ve stayed in the Navy if it would’ve been like this,” Harry laughed, walking over. “Bruce, I brought a vehicle down I want you to test out,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the tracked vehicle.

  “Can I just ask why?” Bruce said, sitting down.

  “You need better off-road capabilities,” Harry said.

  “You think it’s dependable enough for field trials?” Bruce asked.

  “Bruce, I let the boys drive the hell out of them and nothing broke,” Harry beamed proudly.

  “Buffy,” Bruce snapped, turning towards her. “Get Ted and go drive that thing around,” he said, pointing at the new rig.

  “Yeeeeesss!” Buffy shouted, jumping up and taking off running.

  Harry looked at Bruce with a pale face and Bruce shrugged. “If it can take her driving, then it will be alright,” Bruce said. Hearing kids screaming, Bruce turned to see the babies running at them with Marcus and Carroll following.

  Reaching in his bag, Bruce pulled out several sheets of folded papers. “Harry, you and Joe make this for me and I don’t want many to know about it,” Bruce said and Harry nodded, taking the folded papers.

  The kids dove on them, giving hugs and kisses as Marcus and Carroll sat down. “Daddy, we saw the ocean!” the twins cried out.

  Bruce hugged them and looked over at PJ holding his ear to Stephanie’s belly. He laughed, “PJ, what are you doing?”

  “Baby,” PJ grinned, pointing at Stephanie’s belly.

  Stephanie reached to lift PJ up and Mary jumped up, popping her hand. “Mom said no heavy lifting,” Mary snapped and picked up PJ to put him in Stephanie’s lap.

  “Geesh,” Stephanie moaned, hugging PJ.

  “So, how much longer you staying out, Bruce?” Marcus asked.

  “Why? The kids driving you crazy?” Bruce laughed.

  “No, but you’ve been out for three weeks,” Marcus smiled.

  “Bruce, Marcus be spoilin’ them babies,” Carroll said with a sigh.

  “Don’t start, woman,” Marcus huffed.

  Laughing, Bruce leaned back in the chair. “I’ll head us back in a week or so. We are heading to South Carolina first.”

  “You attacking that big group?” Mike asked with wide eyes.

  “Yep,” Bruce smiled.

  Jake gave a soft whistle, “Dad, they are rather big. Just how do you plan on doing it?”

  “Oh, I’m just going to ride up and tell them to bow down or get knocked down,” Bruce chuckled.

  “Yep, Bruce is back,” Mike laughed.

  Chapter 36

  In South Carolina, Art Culver was standing on the huge wall around the massive makeshift base that
the gang he’d joined had built. Well, they made others build it. The base backed up to the Savannah River on the South Carolina side. Looking around behind him in the midmorning sunshine, Art slung his AK over his shoulder.

  The river bordered the base on three sides and semi-trailers and storage containers blocked the four-mile gap into the oxbow that the base sat in. Inside the base, they had over eight square miles and six thousand fighters. He didn’t know how many ‘drones’; what the gang called those they’d captured. Drones were just used by any member of the gang, but what Art did know, drones outnumbered the fighters more than two to one. Not that the drones had ever tried anything in mass. Hell, just the ones that fought back were literally abused to death.

  Before the fall, Art had been a mechanic and had even been engaged. The gang overran the FEMA center he was in, during the third month after the fall. When they found out he had a valuable skill, they allowed him to become an initiate. The gang was a collection of four biker gangs that now just called themselves The Bones. It took six months, but Art was finally allowed to join and was branded with the gang’s sign; a skull and crossbones.

  He wasn’t proud, but he was alive. A part of him cringed at what he had done and had allowed to be done to others, but the way he looked at it, better them than him. For the last month, the base had been very nervous. Truth be told, they had been terrified for the past year and not from the blues.

  They had learned how to fight the blues. The entire area in front of the wall was cleared to bare ground, four hundred yards to the tree line. Then the gang took out work crews, gathering barbed wire and filling the field in front of the wall. Barbed wire formed a six-foot-tall blanket from the wall to the tree line. They used the river to come and go.

  A blue couldn’t get through the field much less a human. When a horde showed up, they pumped fuel through pipes they had laid out and turned the barbed wire field into an inferno. The blues would eventually leave.

  The area inside the camp at one time, had been thick woods but almost all the trees had been cleared out and a log fence put up next to the river. Fields plowed by hand with the drones had been planted and that was why the drones were being given a level of protection. The leaders didn’t want their men farming and the men didn’t want to. Not to say the drones had an easy time, their lives were a living hell. Now, they just didn’t have the reprieve of being killed outright unless one really pissed a member off.

  Then, they started getting radio reports of Omega. At first, nobody was worried, even when this Bruce broadcast his ‘teaching sessions’. They had fought the army during the fall and other gangs constantly. When Hope started broadcasting regularly is when the apprehension started. The Bones had contacted the base in Grenada and knew how big they were.

  The day Omega reported they had wiped out Grenada, fear gripped the base. Then, they reported wiping out the super horde. A few doubted it and scouts were sent out. When the scouts confirmed it, the fear built into a gut-wrenching horror.

  An army group in Pennsylvania had asked The Bones to join, but the four leaders had refused. When Art asked one of the leaders why, he was told, “We can take them, so why would we join them?” Art didn’t think so, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Hearing footsteps, Art turned to see Vince walking over. “Seen anything?” Art asked.

  “Nope and I like that,” Vince said.

  Nodding, Art turned away and looked out over the field. Vince was one of the last allowed to join the gang. Vince was a welder and was pulled in eight months ago. It had been six months since they had found any survivors, and the leaders were telling the gang to quit killing the drones. That made Art happy, but not many others.

  “You think Omega will come here?” Vince asked in a low voice, looking around.

  “Yep,” Art said. “Eventually they will find us.”

  Looking down the wall, Vince sighed. “Why would they attack us? We aren’t hurting them.”

  “You’ve seen the shows,” Art said in a low voice. “They are rebuilding and we aren’t part of it.”

  “Why don’t the four send someone to talk to them?” Vince whined.

  Lifting his binoculars up, Art scanned the tree line. “Vince, you heard those army guys say Omega told them to fuck off. They have more fighters than us, armor, helicopters and artillery, and Omega isn’t worried about them. What do we have?”

  “You think Omega will kill all of us?” Vince asked.

  “If we don’t leave.”

  “Bro, they said all had to head to South America. We would die anyway,” Vince moaned.

  Lowering the binoculars, Art nodded. “At least heading there would give us a chance.”

  Glancing around and making sure nobody was close, Vince leaned closer and whispered. “We need to join that army group. Hell, they are bigger than we are but together, I bet Omega would leave us alone. That major who came down thought so,” he said.

  Art stepped back, “I thought that also,” he said then looked Vince in the eyes. “For a second, I thought you were about to ask to sneak off and join Omega.”

  “Are you fucking insane!” Vince whispered harshly. “If one of the drones escaped and fingered us,” Vince said, throwing his hands up. “Fuck prison, that Bruce guy would make us scream for days.”

  “I know, like I said, that’s what I thought you were about to suggest,” Art growled.

  Holding his hands up, “Bro, I didn’t mean nothin’,” Vince said.

  “We’re cool,” Art said then looked back over the field. “What do you think they are going to do to Tiny?”

  “Whatever it is, that sick fucker deserves it,” Vince said.

  “I’m going to agree with you on that one,” Art said. “Can’t believe he shot that girl.”

  “He’s the size of a truck and he shot a teenage girl,” Vince scoffed. “Someone with a sick sense of humor gave him that nickname.”

  Art just sighed as he nodded. A year ago, a law had been passed: all ammunition was to only be used in killing blues or battles. Yesterday, Tiny had shot a teenager for not doing what he wanted. Adjusting his rifle on his shoulder, Art knew it was in the girl’s best interest to die.

  “You make it down to the tower for the morning report?” Vince asked and Art nodded. “So, is Omega still in Florida?”

  “They said they are,” Art replied and Vince gave a jerk. “They left Jacksonville three days ago, that’s not even two hundred miles from us.”

  “You don’t think they are moving down into Florida?” Vince asked, looking out over the field.

  “Maybe, but if they were heading here, they should’ve been here by now,” Art said.

  “We have lookouts,” Vince objected.

  “Yeah, so did Grenada,” Art chuckled. “Vince, we have guys sitting in houses thirty miles around us. Hell, a few blues could take them out.”

  Vince took a breath to talk and stopped. He looked at Art with a furrowed brow. “What’s that sound?”

  Cocking his head, Art listened for several minutes. “I don’t know.”

  “You think it’s another horde?”

  Shaking his head, Art grabbed his radio and turned it on, they were running low on batteries. “Tower, this is Art. Do you hear something?”

  A few seconds passed as the small radio squawked. “Yeah, we are trying the lookouts to see if they can tell us what it is.”

  “Copy, will you let me know?” Art called back.

  “Ten four,” the voice replied and Art turned his radio off. If the tower rang a bell, all the guards were to turn their radios on.

  “It’s getting louder,” Vince said, taking his rifle off his shoulder and looking to the south. It was an M14 with a scope. Vince was a very good shot, so he got a very good weapon. Only those that could shoot long range were allowed to take out blues that got caught in the barbwire. The closest any blue had ever gotten was two hundred yards.

  Art cocked his head, trying to figure out the sound as Vince lifted his rifle,
looking through the scope at the tree line. “How many lookouts do we have to the south?” Vince asked.

  “Vince, I don’t know. I’m not much higher than you in rank,” Art huffed.

  “In the tower they have six pins on the map, so I’m thinking at least six.”

  “Oh, so now you’re a tactician?” Art laughed, cocking his head more.

  Vince looked over at Art. “I’m just saying, the lookouts should be able to tell us what that is.”

  “Unless they are dead,” Art pointed out.

  Lowering his rifle, “That’s not funny,” Vince said. “The tower should be able to see further that we can, so they should know.”

  Art looked down at the wall stacked two high of containers and semi box trailers. “Vince, we are twenty-five feet off the ground. The ‘tower’,” Art said, quoting in the air, “is only five feet taller than us. As you’ve noticed, we can’t even see over the trees past no man’s land, so neither can they.”

  “I don’t like this,” Vince said, raising his rifle back to his shoulder.

  Closing his eyes, Art cocked his head again, concentrating on the noise for over ten minutes as the noise turned into a droning rumble. Art’s shoulders slumped, “Oh fuck,” he said, grabbing the radio.

  “What?” Vince shouted.

  “Those are engines,” Art said, turning the radio on.

  “Dude, it would have to be a shitload of engines. That noise is a long way off,” Vince said, trying not to tremble.

  “Tower, this is Art,” he said into the radio.

  “Art, we haven’t heard from the lookouts,” the voice called back, sounding irritated.

  “Tower, that noise is coming from engines.”

  A few seconds passed before the voice answered. “Art, how sure are you?”

  “Tower, what the fuck do I do? I’m telling you, we are hearing engines and they are getting closer,” Art snapped back.

  “Oh fuck,” Vince said breathing fast and dropping to his knees. Then he looked up with hope, “Well, it isn’t Omega because we haven’t heard any planes or helicopters.”

  “Vince, whoever it is, isn’t worried about blues when making that much noise,” Art said looking at the radio and waiting for a reply.