Before The Shores Of The Dead: The Complete Collection

by Hilden, Josh

  “Now,” Riley said turning his attention back to the Colonel and the matters at hand. “Let’s see the visitors.”

  Then, Skeels’ Residence

  “Mom what the heck are you doing?” Riley asked backing away faster.

  “What I have to do, we have to go be with Jesus and Daddy. It’s the end times Riley, don’t be afraid it will only hurt for a minute,” she said, sweat was pouring down her face and Riley was sure she was very sick.

  “Mom you’re sick, let’s go to the doctor’s office and get some help. Or let me call the ambulance.” He was nearly begging her when his back made contact with the closet door.

  “Hush Riley.” She stumbled and began coughing.

  Riley was horrified to see blood landing on the carpet in front of her. When she looked up her eyes had gone milky and her skin had taken on a flushed cast.

  “It will all be over soon,” she muttered and stumbled. She lurched forward three more steps then collapsed to the ground. She attempted to pull herself closer to Riley before stopping.

  “Mom,” he said and ran over to her, kneeling and checking her pulse.

  There was none.

  Riley got up, numb and stunned. He walked to the massive 1970’s rotary phone on the kitchen wall, and dialed 911. He was met with a busy signal. Confused he hung up and dialed again. This time it rang.

  He didn’t notice his mother struggling to her feet in the front hall.

  “911 have you or anyone you know been bit?” the haggard male voice on the other end asked.

  “Umm, yes … my mom,” Riley said still in shock.

  “What is her condition?” the man asked sounding nervous.

  “She just fell down in the hallway… I think she’s dead,” he replied with no emotion in his voice. None of this felt real to him, he was sure he was going to wake up from this horrible nightmare with mom yelling at him that he was going to be late for school and that god hates lazy people only slightly less than he hated the Democrats and homosexuals.

  “Get out of the house!” the young man suddenly yelled and the sound jarred Riley enough to realize someone was moving in the front hall.

  “Hold on I think I was wrong. I think she just got up,” Riley said walking the length of the phone cord to look down the hall. Mom was standing in front of the closet door staring at nothing.

  “Kid get out of the house that’s not your mom anymore!” the man on the other end of the phone was yelling.

  Riley dropped the hand set and allowed it to hit the linoleum with a loud THWAK sound.

  Mom’s head snapped around and Riley was horrified.

  Blood, black and clotted, ran from her mouth and nose. Her eyes were pink with broken blood vessels and her skin was a gray purple color. She saw him and a bone chilling moan emanated from her mouth.

  “Kid run!” the man screamed from the fallen hand set.

  Mom began to advance on him in quick jerky movements stumbling toward the kitchen. Riley stumbled toward the dining room never taking his eyes off of her. None of this was right, none of this could be happening.

  She moaned again.

  “Go away mom,” he said.

  She moaned even louder.

  Riley looked around and saw the rolling pin sitting on the counter. He had no idea why it wasn’t in the drawer where it belonged but he wasn’t going to waste any of his time wondering about it.

  Riley darted to the counter and scooped it up.

  Mom moaned and stumbled faster toward him, arms out, mouth chomping up and down.

  “Please don’t make me do this,” Riley said, unnoticed tears streaming down his face. Riley hadn’t allowed himself to cry since dad died.

  She advanced.

  Riley drew the rolling pin back and looked into the vacant dead eyes of his mother. The woman who should have comforted him but instead abandoned him for god and her hate. The woman who had never touched him in an affectionate way in seven years, the woman who was going to sacrifice him for her faith.

  CRACK!

  The rolling pin slammed into the side of her head and drove her to the ground. Quickly Riley began beating her skull in with the rolling pin; skin, blood, bone and brains flying with each impact.

  He cried.

  He screamed.

  He sang his pain and his rage.

  Then it was quiet except for the tinny sound coming from the phone receiver. Dropping the rolling pin Riley walked back over to the phone and picked it up. He didn’t even notice the flecks of blood and flesh on his skin.

  “It’s done,” he said into the phone.

  “Jesus kid I thought she got you, are you okay were you bit?” the 911 operator asked sounding terrified.

  “No I wasn’t bit,” Riley said.

  “Do you have a safe place you can go?” the man asked sounding a little calmer.

  “I don’t want to hide,” Riley’s said cold anger filling his guts to mix with the terror. “I want to fight.”

  “Come to the Sheriff’s station, we are arming up and we can always use someone not afraid to make the call,” the man said.

  “I’m only sixteen,” he said wanting there to be no deception.

  “Doesn’t matter kid, if you can fight get down here.”

  Now, Sudbury, RCMP Offices

  “Well aren’t they a lovely mix of losers,” Riley said looking through the window in the office door at the two men and one woman seated around the battered conference table.

  “Apparently they crossed all of the distance between the Alaskan border and our northern perimeter mostly on foot. They say there were twelve of them when they escaped Anchorage,” Colonel LeFlamme said.

  “Well let’s get this over with,” Riley said turning the knob on the door.

  All three heads turned when the door opened and Riley stepped in followed by the Colonel. They were freshly scrubbed and dressed in newish clothing but they looked thin and haunted. These people had seen and done things they’d never forget.

  “Alvin, Steve, Melissa this is Sgt. Major Riley Skeels from the Republic of Michigan,” the colonel said nodding toward Riley. Riley offered his hand but none of the refugees offered their own in response.

  “Okay,” Riley said ignoring the slight. “I need to know why we should bring you folks back to the Republic. As you can understand resources are thin and we are selective about who we bring to the island. If you want we can relocate you to one of our stations on the mainland and work security for the farmers and salvage teams. It’s important needed work,” he said looking each of them in their nearly dead eyes.

  Finally one of them spoke.

  “My name is Alvin Withers. I am a former Alaskan State Senator. This is my sister Melissa and her husband Steve Lewis a former Captain in the Alaskan Air National Guard. There were more of us when we escaped Alaska, all family, but they didn’t make it,” he said in the creepiest monotone Riley had ever heard.

  For the next two hours the three Alaskan’s told a story which filled Riley and his Canadian counterpart with terror.

  Then, White Harbor Sheriff’s Station

  “Can you handle this son?” the Militia officer, formerly one of the multitude of fishermen who inhabited the city, asked handing him a semi-automatic pistol and bolt action hunting rifle; along with a pair of binoculars and an ample quantity of ammunition.

  “Yes sir,” Riley said taking the items. “My dad taught me to hunt.”

  “Oh yeah, who’s your dad?” the older man asked.

  “His name was Erik Skeels,” Riley said looking the man in the eyes.

  Every White Harbor fisherman knew who Erik Skeels had been. He’d been one of them, he’d been their friend.

  “Your little Riley?” the man asked looking him up and down. He seemed to recognize the new hardness in the boy and he respected it.

  “Yes sir, you knew my Dad?”

  “He was a friend, a damn good friend son.” The older man looked like he may cry then added, “He’d be real proud of you
son, real proud for volunteering to protect your community like this,” he said thrusting his hand out.

  Riley took it and matched the larger man’s hand shake pump for pump..

  “What is that pansy doing with a weapon?” a very familiar voice called out from the other side of the room.

  Riley turned and saw the overweight form of Coach Watts.

  “Is there a problem Bill?” the man behind the desk asked.

  “Yeah I have a problem. This faggot does not need a gun he needs to go hide with all the other faggot’s and the women while the men do the work.” He glared at Riley, rage blazing in his piggy eyes.

  Riley said nothing. Instead he sat his weapon and equipment down on the table and walked toward the Coach. His eyes locked with Bill Watts’ and never broke the connection.

  “Where ya going little lady are you going back to hide behind your crazy ass mommy?” Watts asked in his highest pitch voice. The he broke out in gales of laughter.

  He never saw it coming. Riley crossed the room and kicked the man square in the groin. As coach Watts doubled over in pain Riley brought his knee up into his nose, the sound of a single breaking bone filled the now silent room.

  “You little faggot you broke my nose!” Watts squealed dropping to the floor.

  Riley began repeatedly kicking Coach Watts in the ribs. Slowly and steadily, with no anger or rage. He kicked until he heard the man who’d been his father’s friend speak.

  Riley stopped kicking.

  “That’s enough son, I think that piece of shit has learned a lesson. Besides you have a job to do out there,” he said indicating the pile of equipment.

  Riley nodded, gathered his equipment, and walked out the front door to get an assignment.

  Now, Camp Harrison

  “Son of a bitch,” Rich Paulson said after hearing the story the Alaskan’s told Riley.

  The three refugees were on their way to New White Harbor to speak with the government. They’d seemed to be relieved once the story was told, like a great burden had been removed from their shoulders.

  “Yep, I’d say things are going to get a whole lot worse,” Riley agreed pouring himself a cup of tea from the samovar in his office.

  “How did the Cadets do? Did they figure out it was their final exam ahead of time?” Rich asked trying to think of anything other than what he’d just learned.

  “Nope they were gob smacked when the Canucks took them outside and dumped them in the Death Lands.” He sipped the tea and wished he’d gotten more honey last time he was in town. “But they did excellent, they all passed.”

  “Good, we are going to need them,” Rich said. “When are you starting the next class of cadets?”

  “I’m not,” Riley said sipping the tea and enjoying the hot mint taste.

  “What are you talking about?” Rich asked looking confused and worried.

  Instead of saying anything Riley reached into the desk drawer, pulled out a small box, and tossed it to Rich. The older man caught it, opened it up, and stared at the contents in disbelief.

  A set of silver Captains Bars.

  “Riley what the fuck?” he asked staring at his friend.

  “I head North in a few days, I’m leading a Scout detachment to Alaska,” he said knowing that was all the explanation Rich would need, but he added one last thing.

  “It’s going to be war.”

  Part 3: “Kelly’s Story”

  Now, “The Academy” New White Harbor

  “Power generation is the number one problem we have on the island.” Professor Kelly Hodges said to the group of engineering students gathered in the warm classroom. Outside the wind blew and the snow fell all across the island. The weather reports flying across the Relay Network indicated this was the beginning of a massive storm front. In the time before the rise of the dead that would have been an event of fear and rushes to supermarkets. Now it was a period when you knew the dead would not be a problem.

  It was almost a time of celebration.

  “What about food production?” a feminine voice from the back of the smoky room asked. Wood heat dominated society on Isle Royale and the Academy “Lecture Hall”, really a former communal dining room in the old ranger station, was heated by a massive stone fireplace.

  “Ah yes food production,” she said rolling her eyes comically.

  The fifteen students laughed at her expression.

  “Our leaders like to hammer the nail of ‘Growing food on the island is hard’ at every opportunity. And to be fair they are right, Isle Royale was never intended to be a garden area,” she said smiling at the young lady who’d asked the question. He name was Holly and she was one of the innumerable Hilstrands who seemed to be thick as weeds on the Island. Kelly liked the dark haired teenager, she had a quick mind and a gentle heart.

  “Yeah, so isn’t that at least as important as generating power?” Holly asked. She looked confused by Kelly’s answer.

  “Let me put it this way,” Kelly said settling her bottom on the table that she used as desk. The bulge of her abdomen was inconvenient to her normal style of teaching which involved a lot of pacing. “We brought a lot of food with us when we came here. I know most of it is corn from the Lake Frog but it can and has kept us alive. Also we are in the middle of one of the richest fishing grounds in North America so meat isn’t going to be a problem. And finally we can actually farm some of the ground here, it’s not the most fertile or easily tilled ground we could hope for but it’s doable.” She paused to see if anyone was going to dispute her words. When they didn’t she continued.

  “Power is a very different issue. We need it to maintain a living standard beyond that of a medieval peasant,” she said and was rewarded with a general laugh from the students. “We have the diesels from the Frog and the various generators that were already on the island before we arrived but what we need is something more sustainable. What we need is solar and wind powered generators.”

  Derrick Mays, a tall dark skinned young man originally from Minneapolis, raised his hand. Kelly nodded to him and he began to speak in the slow hypnotic cadence he was already becoming well known for on the island.

  “I can see wind power being easily installed on the shores. And in the summer the sunlight is significant, but where are we going to get the raw materials and tools to set up the infrastructure?” he asked.

  Silently Kelly was thankful for Derrick and his question. The entire point of this class was to prepare the potential field engineers for what they were in for once they graduated from this abbreviated program. He just gave her an opening to drive the point home.

  If only things were always that easy.

  “That is where you come in,” she said, and then she waited as a murmur rippled through the group before continuing. “The only way we’re going to build our strength is by increasing our manufacturing ability.” Kelly stopped and took a drink of water from the bottle on her desk. Somebody was feeling a little active in there.

  “The only way we can do this is by sending teams back onto the mainland to retrieve salvage. We need tools, parts, raw material, weapons, medical supplies, and yes Miss Hilstrand even more food,” she said and smiled at Holly who blushed. “The soldiers will be leading the way but it will be up to you, and to the classes who will graduate after you to identify the best things to bring back to the island. You and your peers will be the foundation we rebuild our civilization on.” She rose, placed a hand on the small of her back, and walked amongst them as she talked.

  “We had everything we needed in White Harbor but that is lost to us and there is no point in bemoaning about it. We are here, we are alive, and we will not be stopped,” she finished in a commanding voice, the same voice she’d learned from him.

  The class broke into a spontaneous applause.

  Then, University of Findley

  Kelly hesitated before knocking on the closed door. The pretty young woman with the scary face and the riot batons strapped to her thighs told her that he w
as in there. She needed to talk to the man but he scared her. Not as much as the dead who’d only recently been dispatched downstairs, but enough. Screwing up her courage she knocked.

  “Enter,” the dry masculine voice said from the other side.

  Taking a deep breath Kelly pushed the door open. She expected to see the former teachers' lounge transformed into a military commanders office with maps, charts, and files spread willy-nilly across the table. Instead she saw a distinguished looking man sitting in the squashy recliner. There was a heavy looking steel headed cane on the floor next to him. In his hands was a large tablet computer encased in a thick black silicon shell.

  “General Harrison?” she asked unsure if she was in the correct room.

  The man sighed, set the tablet down on his lap, and slipped the thin wire rimmed spectacles from his nose. When he looked at her and spoke, the intensity in his eyes made her draw in a breath.

  “I am not a General,” he said smiling tiredly at her. “They keep calling me that and I can’t seem to get them to stop, it’s just Liam,” he finished.

  “Kelly, Kelly Hodges,” she said crossing the room and extending her hand.

  A little surprised, Liam took her offered hand in his own and shook it with a grin.

  “So you’re the brave lady who kept all of these kids alive,” Liam said gesturing for Kelly to sit on the couch.

  Kelly felt a bit surreal being offered a seat in her own lounge. But the man was putting her off her game with every word and gesture. This was not what she’d expected.

  “We did it together,” she said, “my kids are smart and tough.” She continued her voice daring him to argue with her. Instead she was again thrown off when he began to nod.

  “Yes you people did good work. No firearms only a few hand to hand weapons and you managed to fortify the building and hold out. It’s pretty damn impressive,” he said reaching over for a can of iced tea sitting on the table.