The Island - The Final Chapters

by Michael Stark

  The Island - The Final Chapters

  Title Page

  Chapter XXII - Ceremonies

  Chapter XXIII - The Dead and the Dying

  Chapter XXIV - Dragons

  Chapter XXV - To Deal with A Devil

  Chapter XXVI - Decisions

  Chapter XXVII - The Fever

  Chapter XXVIII - Battle Lines

  Epilogue

  The Island

  The Final Chapters

  by

  Michael Stark

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY: Michael Stark on Smashwords

  The Island - The Final Chapters

  Copyright © 2012 by Michael Stark

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced without the author’s written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Forward:

  The Final Chapters brings The Island to a close. If you’ve not read the earlier parts, go grab them first.

  The second book in the series - The Rock - should appear in early 2013. That’s an estimate. The Island encompasses 4 months of writing and 2 months of editing. I imagine the next book in the series will come in somewhere along those lines.

  Like The Island, The Rock represents a real location. Elements surrounding them may be based in fantasy, but the locations are real. So, here’s a challenge to the readers. If you’re the first to guess the name of the rock, you get a bit part in the coming book. That’s right. I’ll name a character after you.

  Nothing like a little mystery, is there?

  MS

  Chapter XXII - Ceremonies

  I woke feeling as if I’d been beaten and left to die. Bright light streamed through the cracks in Keith’s new shutters and painted long narrow slits across the floor. One sliced directly across my eyes, intensifying the dull, throbbing ache above my temples. I rolled back into the soothing darkness and waited for the riot inside my skull to settle down.

  It took a while.

  Denise hadn’t slipped away this time. She lay curled up beside me, huddled down in the sleeping bag, dark hair strewn across her face. Sleep had softened her features, erasing the hard lines that always seemed to be there when she was up and alert. Maybe the impression came from the missing ponytail. I’d only seen her without it a couple of times and had often wondered how anyone could pull their hair so tight and not spend the day with a pounding headache.

  Her presence stirred mixed emotions, none of which were the right ones. She was twenty-five if I remembered right. I was forty-two. She was pretty and smart. Men my age had chased women her age since the beginning of time. If history carried the example of how I should conduct myself, then I should have been happy, should have been outside preening myself like the new rooster on the block or strutting my victory to the world.

  Mostly, I felt confused and apprehensive. The woman belonged to a different generation. She looked at life in ways that I didn’t understand. We had little in common and nothing that would tempt one into another’s bed. Social conventions had long ago dumped the need for emotional involvement as a prelude to sex. It wasn’t that I needed to love her or feel a deep-seated attachment, but something, anything beyond uncertainty would have been nice.

  I wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore. The world looked to be riding a train straight into a tunnel marked Death to All Ye Who Enter Here. I didn’t need to check my ticket. I had a front row seat reserved on the express route.

  The little room that I’d taken as my bedroom couldn’t have been more than ten feet by twelve. The station had been constructed a century and a half before, built by rough hands from equally rough timber. The bedroom had been stripped of all furniture. Everything, including the walls, floor, and ceiling looked to have been nailed together with heavy wooden boards most likely cut from the island’s own pines and oaks. The place breathed history. Rising up painfully and shrugging on a pair of shorts, I could easily imagine walking out to join a crew of rough and tumble men gearing up for another day of saving lives in a boat they had to row.

  The noises echoing through the old station told me I’d missed breakfast. The voices, scattered inside and out, talked about weather, about what should be done next, about everything but food. Somewhere a hammer knocked on wood. The front door banged to the accompaniment of disappearing footsteps. Upstairs, an abbreviated broom whisked across the floor in a long and rhythmic swish.

  I didn’t care about the food. My list of needs and wants only had three entries. I needed coffee. I wanted a cool porch to sit on while I sipped it.

  The third item demanded the attention of the group. They had yet to see things I’d seen and one of them lay nearly decapitated a few miles south. We had the Suburban. One way or another, everyone could squeeze in. They might not like the thought, but I was damned tired of being a one-trick pony in this show. I needed them to see the reason that standing watch served a purpose, not just listen to me talk about it. I needed them to experience the same gut-level realization that life had changed. I needed them to understand how truly isolated the island had become.

  Like it or not, every blasted person at the station would be in that vehicle on the return trip if I had to carry them out and put them in myself.

  Even Daniel.

  A week ago, the idea of touching him would have made me shudder. Now, the thought left me both troubled and introspective. The words the night before had cut deep. In the light of day, they left me wondering just how much he did know and how he stayed sane. He spent most of his time staring off into space. I didn’t think anyone could spend that much time seeing things and not be a little off.

  I dressed slow and careful, stifling groans at every move. The cut across my face sent sharp tendrils of pain lancing through my cheek when I touched it. The burn down my thigh felt like gasoline had been poured in the wound and set on fire. The worst part came trying to pull a clean t-shirt over my head. The simple act of raising my arms sent agonizing waves searing down my left side. By the time I opened the door, I felt as old as the station and in a thousand times worse shape.

  The sight of Elsie reaching for the radio greeted me when I walked out. She gave me a sharp look before waving to a seat next to her. The expression on the old woman’s face told me that William Hill’s apologetic stance needed to begin soon if he wanted to avoid a day full of caustic remarks and bony fingers being shaken in his direction.

  Elsie could be a wonderful woman, full of wit, humor, and seemingly boundless energy. She could also be as fearsome as a winged demon chasing you down the road if you pissed her off. I had enough battles to fight outside the station. With Denise curled up in my bed half-naked and her ex-boyfriend devolving into a caveman, I already had a slew of potential conflicts on my schedule. Smoothing over hurt feelings sounded like good damage control to me.

  The coffee on the stove smelled old and bitter. Even I couldn’t stomach the thought of drinking the stuff. I emptied the pot, cleaned out the basket, and set it atop my cup. A paper filter went inside, along with enough grounds to make the coffee a zip-line ride straight into caffeinated heaven. Elsie watched while I added steaming water and nodded in approval at the black gold leaking out into my cup.

  The look deserved a mental thumbs-up and a point to the column of easing tensions.

  “That looks strong, Hill William. You plannin’ on wakin’ the dead?”

  The aroma swirling around the makeshift coffeemaker had me watch
ing the cup like a junkie eyeing his next fix.

  “No,” I said, “just the downtrodden, the weary, the sleepy, and the nearly dead.”

  Elsie chuckled. “I’d say you fit all them descriptions.”

  I looked up and nodded at the radio. “Go ahead. It’s time and this will take a minute.”

  She reached over and flicked the on switch just as Denise came out of the bedroom, yawning with hair sticking out on one side as if she’d grown a wing. She offered a tired wave and headed for the bathroom.

  The old woman shot me a look of disapproval and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. I wasn’t sure I understood why. Just the day before, she had been slapping me on the shoulder and ready to give me a high-five over a relationship I had neither instigated nor decided if I even wanted.

  I threw my hands up in a what-gives expression. She wrinkled her nose and went back to the radio.

  Christine Arapaloe’s voice filled the air with her sign-on blurb. She sounded tired.

  To all our listeners out there, last night we reported problems with the wire service. Well, things aren’t much better. We’ve had more time to prepare for the newscast this time around, so maybe it won’t sound so disjointed.

  Let me bring you up to date on the weather first. The cold front that caused so much trouble last night has stalled over the eastern half of the nation. The National Weather Service has issued a severe weather bulletin calling for damaging storms from New York to Alabama, saying that many areas could experience high winds, strong cloud-to-ground lightning strikes and heavy flooding. A wide swath of southeastern states will likely have tornado warnings issued later today. Staff meteorologist, Randy Smith, tells us that here on the coast, we’ll have nice weather for another day or two before the storms hit us. So, enjoy it while you can.

  Today, the World Health Organization said that an estimated five million people have been killed by the disease globally. Spokesperson Ellen Marks said that contagion rates were increasing dramatically around the world and that the worst is yet to come. Some areas of the world are so overwhelmed by casualties that they have become a black hole in terms of communication. When asked if the organization would be releasing estimates of new infections, Marks replied, quote, “I think it’s safe to say that the number of infections is, or will shortly be, in the billions. Beyond that, we simply don’t know.”

  Closer to home, several sections of Atlanta burned overnight as rioters torched buildings and fought police in a street-by-street battle that one veteran said looked like Iraq at its worst. Thirteen police officers were injured in the confrontation. Six were reported killed. Thirty-four rioters also died in the fighting. A spokesman for the Atlanta Police Department said that few arrests have been made.

  Yesterday, in over a dozen cities around the country, organizers of "Block Marches" were detained by military police in what authorities are calling preemptive containment. These marches were planned demonstrations to protest slow food deliveries and closure of medical facilities in inner-city regions. Organizers had been using social media and internet sites in an attempt to attract supporters.

  General David Brukhauser's office released a statement saying the arrests were made to promote the general welfare of the republic. Within hours of the announcement, protest swept across the internet with critics calling the action heavy-handed and an abuse of power. Many noted that the marches were to occur within designated community blocks, or C-blocks as they have come to be called, in order to not violate the travel ban. By morning, many of the sites that contained the most vocal outrage were offline. No timeframe for their reinstatement has been issued.

  Reports of clashes between local militias soared overnight. Gun battles raged until dawn near Albany as surrounding areas fought a tide of refugees from C-Blocks near the city center who were attempting to escape the ravaged downtown area. An estimated one thousand residents from three conjoined inner-city blocks had organized a midnight exodus. At least fifty were killed and an unknown number injured. National Guard units tried to intervene, but came under fire themselves. The scene repeated itself in dozens of locations across the country. Pictures from Seattle, Minneapolis, Miami, and Dallas depict widespread fires, overturned cars and, in some cases, bodies lying in the streets. Conditions have become particularly dangerous in Los Angeles where gang activity has soared during overnight hours, despite the nationwide curfew.

  Baltimore’s famed Inner Harbor woke to a grisly scene this morning. Scores of bodies, many grossly injured and some partially devoured stretched down President Street from the East Pratt intersection to the Katyn Memorial. Police say that 911 calls began pouring in around three a.m. Initial responders reported several businesses ablaze, including two local hotels that had been commandeered as emergency shelters for stranded travelers.

  Emergency Medical Technician, Jamal Burns, saw hundreds of people running through the streets, many of them naked or partially clothed. Burns said that he first thought they were fleeing the fires, but quickly realized that some were apparently, quote, “preying on others.” Burns went on to say, “I watched a man’s face ripped off right in front of my ambulance.” Law enforcement officials released a terse statement this morning saying the incident was under investigation, but provided no details.

  Officials say a disturbing new trend in home invasions has risen in recent weeks. In what is being called “Fracking” by people on the street, homes are canvassed during the day and marked for invasion overnight. Police say offenders target those they see as having weak defenses. After entering the home and raiding food supplies, offenders often kill all the occupants. A spokesman for the FBI said that disappearing food supplies combined with sporadic police protection have created volatile conditions.

  What some around here have been calling our News of the Weird has become a lot stranger this morning. We noted yesterday that Officer John Jacobs from the Western North Carolina community of Rosman had reported firing at winged creatures he described as demonic in appearance and stated that he would present evidence to the world when he found it. Well, he apparently found it. Pictures of the beast have been posted on the Brevard county Sheriff Department’s website - which is currently down. Servers crashed overnight after being overloaded with more than one million visitors. Sherriff Tommy Franklin said that service will be restored soon and praised both Jacobs and local residents for their response to the attacks.

  “We’re not like other people,” Franklin said in a news conference. “We don’t take this kind of thing lying down. You come here and start trouble? We’re going to fight back.”

  In more local news, the suspected case of The Fever in Nags Head has been confirmed. Emergency Services Director, Alan Woods, said that Glenda Hawkins, the sixty-four year old woman who had called 911 reporting symptoms of the disease, has died. Woods also stated that five others have come down with similar symptoms.

  And finally, WKLE station manager, Roger Elkins, has decided that we will no longer be broadcasting on the hour. The dangers associated with travel can no longer be ignored and the station will be operating on a small live-in crew until further notice. Live news segments will be limited to noon and six p.m. and will be done remotely. So, I’ll be broadcasting from home again in a couple of hours, but after that, not until six tonight. All of us here at WKLE wish each of you the very best in the coming days. Please, secure your homes and take whatever steps necessary to protect your families.

  Elsie turned off the radio and pointed to the front porch. “Want to go smoke?”

  Despite having burned butts the night before like a chain smoker, I didn’t care for one at the moment. I followed her outside anyway and took a seat on the steps while she made for the rockers.

  “What’s on tap for today?” I asked, once she had settled in the chair.

  She waved toward the dunes where Devon held a piece of lumber while Keith nailed it in place. “I don’t know what them two are working on. Kelly and Jessie are upstairs. They’re doing
station duty this week.”

  I leaned back against one of the posts supporting the roof. “How about the rest?”

  “Tyler took Kate out to the point this morning to fish,” she said. “I ain’t seen Joshua all day. He might be out huntin’. He mentioned yesterday that he’d seen a tom turkey down near the swamp.”

  I said nothing and drained my coffee instead.

  Elsie frowned at me. “Why? What you got in mind?”

  I took a deep breath. “I need to go back and get the dune buggy. I think the rest of you should come along. It might do you good to see what I ran into yesterday.”

  To my surprise, excitement shot across her face. “You mean get away from the station for a while? You’re danged right I would.”

  “Just remember, there are two bodies down there that need a proper burial,” I cautioned. “I didn’t care much for them when they were living, but I can’t leave them lying out in the open like that.”

  “It’s the proper thing to do,” she declared. “I ain’t too keen on that part, mind you, but I’d sure like to get out.”

  I hated to take the good feeling away, but the question lingering in the back of my mind probably would. No matter how I turned it in my mind, I couldn’t come up with a way to broach the subject without sending her into defensive mode. Finally, I just asked her point blank. “What did Daniel say about the logbook?”