Earth's Survivors: box set

by Wendell Sweet

  Either way it was worth a try. If it bought death, real death, it would be a relief, if it didn't, Luther might find himself the one wishing for death, because if he got his hands around his neck, and he couldn't stop him... Well, he reasoned, he just might be able to kill him. Either way, he was convinced it would end everything. His life, hopefully Luther's, all of it, and wouldn't that be sweet?

  Frank

  As Frank, Jimmy, and Jeremiah were speeding away from Ron and his small group of men, Gary was just entering the lake from Henderson Harbor. He was piloting a new Zephyr Speedster that he had liberated from the Henderson town docks. The keys had been in the ignition, almost as though the boat had been waiting for him. He was cruising slowly, watching the shore line as he went, the boats running lights out, so he would attract little attention.

  He heard the whining motor of the gray boat long before he saw it. He knew the sound of it though, and pulled closer into shore, killing the motor in anticipation of its arrival.

  He was wondering why they were returning, when the sound of the motor suddenly vanished. Not quit, but vanished, as if it had never existed at all, except in his own imagination. He would have believed it was only in his imagination, if he had not heard splashing, and the sound of panicked voices that he recognized as belonging to Frank, Jeremiah, and Jimmy. That convinced him that he had not imagined it, and he keyed the motor and slowly edged back out into the lake.

  Luther

  Luther had re-thought his opinion of the new gift he possessed, and as a consequence was once again angry. He had watched through the remarkable mind eye he possessed, as Ron and the small group of men discussed how to re-enter the caves, now that the entrance had been sealed. He had badly wanted to transport himself there and tell them to simply use another entrance. What was it, they couldn't even think for themselves? Fucking morons, he had thought morosely. Once they did get in he would kill them with his bare hands just for delaying the pleasure he was anticipating, at ripping apart the three men they had captured, and then the woman, once she arrived.

  But instead of finding another entrance they were standing there talking. Talking about him, and wondering if maybe he had shut them out, or if maybe he was losing his power, and maybe this, and fucking maybe that, and while they were talking the three men had escaped, and that hadn't been so bad. What had been bad was that he could not prevent it. He should have been able to reach out with his mind and simply cause the boat to vanish, but he had not been able to readily make that happen, like he should have been able to. Instead, they had very nearly gotten away completely, before he had finally managed to bring the boat back to the entrance, where Ron and only two remaining members of his small group waited.

  The effort had left him weak. Feeling depleted somehow, and that was wrong. He had never felt that way before. In fact he had never felt any particular way before. Not in a physical sense anyway. He could feel anger, and he could feel fear, but he had never felt physical weakness. In fact no physical feelings of any kind. None. Never. Except now, and...and it worried him.

  The fact that the entrance had been sealed had worried him too. It shouldn't have been, not if Pierce had been doing his job correctly. Manual over-ride should have been easily achieved, but it had not been, and in fact Pierce had claimed that the computer was no longer responding to any of his commands at all.

  It had been too much for Luther to handle, and he had ripped Pierce's head off in a complete and uncontrollable rage. Weak he was, and even more so after the rage he had flown into, but as weak as he felt he knew he was still far stronger than any man.

  He thought about it. Any ten men, he decided.

  And he hadn't realized that there was a way to cure that weakness, until he had found himself tearing huge chunks of Pierce's flesh from his body with his teeth and greedily swallowing them. It had made him feel stronger, it had made him feel much stronger.

  The control room had fallen suddenly quiet. Besides Pierce, he'd had five other programmers working on restoring the launch program, and they had stared in horror, as Luther had ripped Pierce to shreds, and then fed on him.

  There had been no more talk about not being able to restore the program, and no more foolish talk about the computer locking them out. They had bent to their tasks with a vengeance.

  One young man had managed to access the air-vent control, and open the external entrance once more. Unfortunately the cameras in that section were no longer working, so the screens in the control room could not confirm it. But Luther had probed with his mind-eye and had seen the open entrance, and watched the water pouring in, so he knew that it was true.

  In truth the opening was still closed. Regardless of what Luther's mind-eye had shown him, POP-11 had not, and would not open the entrance. The water was too much of a threat to its system, and POP-11 had closed all but two other entrances as well. Those entrances were much further inland, and high above the water line in the Tug Hill Plateau. POP-11 had blown the seals in that ducting, and despite closing down all the other air entrances, the air entering the facility was once again compromised. POP-11 was also providing the five remaining programmers with false files to modify. They were not nearly as sharp as Pierce had been, and had no idea that they were being deceived.

  Luther, over his rage, and with his hunger satisfied, was keeping track of Willie, as well as Ron. He could not find any trace of the three men however. He had swept over the still black waters, but they were nowhere to be found.

  He had watched as the one they called Gary had drowned, maybe they had drowned as well. That was a satisfying thought. Not as satisfying as it would have been to take their lives himself, but still satisfying nevertheless. He turned his attention back to Willie.

  He was surprised that he had somehow lived through the retreat from downtown Rochester. Luther had watched him go down, had watched the bullets tear and rip his flesh, and he had watched him stand and walk, despite the mortal-looking wounds.

  Willie apparently had a great deal of resolve, Luther thought.

  He had watched as the doctor had stitched the small wound in his stomach, but only in a vague way, at that point he had been too preoccupied with other things. Willie was up and walking and that was all that really mattered. He would bring the woman, and then Luther would kill him. He had far outlived his usefulness.

  He turned his attention to the two monitors that showed the old farm house. He had been surprised when he had discovered that the missiles had been there all along, instead of in the caves. No matter though, at least he had found them, he thought, and the work was progressing nicely. It was a good thing they had discovered the damage in time, however.

  The launch pads themselves had nothing to do with the activation of the missiles that was radio controlled, on a closed frequency, the cradles served only to hold them. They would still have activated at the end of the countdown sequence, on the ground beside the launch cradles, where they had been left. The cutting of the harness had been the thing that had done the most damage however, according to the late, great, Richard Pierce.

  The harness controlled the activation of the separate segments of the missile that dealt with the war-head. Chemical, conventional, or nuclear, and without it there would have been no damage whatsoever. There would be now though. In fact all of the damage had been repaired, the missiles were back in their cradles, and the harnesses had been re-attached, and the group of workers were to remain there, to assure that there would be no further tampering with the missiles.

  Once the programmers finished their work, the whole thing would be over within a matter of minutes.

  Pierce had told him that it would be impossible to circumvent the twenty four hour safe flight program. Of course that had been at the end, when Pierce had known that Luther intended to kill him, and at first Luther had believed him, but now he knew better. One of the other programmers had managed to delete the entire program file, and build a short batch file that would allow instantaneous launch of the mis
siles.

  Luther had been so enthusiastic that he had hugged the man, and the man had cringed in fear, and that had caused an odd occurrence that Luther could not recall ever happening before. His loins had tightened, and a fiery heat had begun to spread, along with an accompanying stiffness, and he had every intention of exploring the possibilities that observance had opened up more fully, when time afforded. Not now though. It would have to wait, but only until the woman arrived, he thought.

  Gary

  As soon as Gary started the boat the voices fell silent. He had thought at first that the sound of the boats motor had simply drowned them out, and so he once again cut the engine. Nothing, no splashing no noises of any kind at all, in fact. He was positive the voices he had heard had belonged to Frank, Jeremiah and Jimmy, he was unsure however, if they were alone, and he had no weapon. He debated for a second and then called out. If they had heard the boats motor, and apparently they had, then it would serve no purpose to remain silent, whether they were alone or not.

  "Frank, Jeremiah, Jimmy?" he called into the still of the lake. "It's me, Gary. Can you hear me?"

  ...No answer, and he was just about to call out once more when a tentative voice, that he recognized as Frank's, called back from close by in the black water.

  "Gary's, dead," Frank called back.

  "News to me," Gary said softly, "far as I can tell I ain't dead at all. Hurt a little maybe, but definitely not dead. You guys wanna swim a little longer, or would you like to get into the boat?" he finished.

  "Turn on the lights in the boat, so we kin see you," Jeremiah called.

  Gary switched on the lights, and he heard Jimmy say, "It is him, I'll be dammed!" in an incredulous voice, followed by a quick, muttered, "Well not really dammed, sorry God."

  Gary smiled as he started the boat and slowly eased toward them. He snapped on the running lights, and finally came upon them about twenty yards out, treading water, they were grinning as they climbed into the back of the boat.

  "What the hell?" Frank asked smiling. "I thought for sure you were a goner," he finished, as he hugged him. Gary flinched and Frank quickly let go. "How bad?" he asked.

  "Just a flesh wound," Gary said, "might'a broke a rib though," he conceded, "falling out of the boat. Speaking of boat, how did you guys get here?"

  "Long story," Jimmy said, "but we had the boat, the one we were in before, but it just... It just disappeared, sort of," he looked at Frank.

  "True," Frank replied, "one minute we were in it, and the next it was gone, and we were treading water."

  Jeremiah echoed Frank's description. "Sort'a vanished is the only way I know to put it," he finished lamely.

  Gary nodded his head as he pointed the boat toward Rochester, killed the lights and increased the speed. "Don't surprise me," he stated flatly, "ain't much that could any longer I guess."

  "Could be that freak pulled it back," Jeremiah said, "sort'a un-created it, and if so, could be they're after us again."

  They all turned simultaneously and looked back, but no running lights seemed to be approaching. They agreed quickly that they should keep track though. The boat would probably run without lights, and the sound of their own motor would cover its approach, and since they had no weapons, they would have to simply try to evade it, if it did show up.

  Jimmy settled into a rearward facing seat and kept watch as they sped across the lake.

  Willie and Jessie

  Willie was trying to recall everything he knew about the Bible as he piloted the boat across the dark water. It was important, he thought, especially now. His body was rapidly deteriorating, and he did not want to be stuck in it forever or even for much longer, if he could help it.

  His joints were beginning to stiffen, Rigor mortise, he guessed. He had mostly avoided school, and especially science, but he knew enough to know that his body was breaking down. Besides the stiffening in his joints, his legs were swelling, as his blood, what was left of it anyway, settled to the lowest extremity, which happened to be his legs, since he was standing. An experimental press to the flesh of one leg had left a dent that was still not completely gone, even though he had done it more than twenty minutes before, and the flesh was purple and bruised looking.

  The woman had watched in horror as Willie had tried the experiment. He supposed it had finally dawned on her that he was dead.

  So what, he thought, shit happens! But the Bible, now that was something to think about, because that might offer a release. It might offer death. He was pretty sure that three little words might release him, and the three words...

  He stopped himself. Not yet. He didn't want to say them yet, because if he did he might go now, and he wanted to go later, so he would simply have to trust that those three magic words would work.

  If he were alive they surely would, but he wasn't exactly alive, was he? No he wasn't alive he was dead, yet somehow undead at the same time, and trapped in a body that was beginning to rot.

  And what would happen if he were still trapped in this body when it really began to rot? He asked himself. When the flesh began to fall of his bones and maggots began to hatch and feed? What then?

  Well, he decided, the only thing to do would be to utter those three little words and hope. After all, it was all about belief, and although he may not have believed, he certainly did now. But not now, later. Later, after he was back with Luther.

  He knew that he was heading straight toward Frank, Gary, Jeremiah, and Jimmy. He didn't have the slightest friggin' idea how he knew, he just did. When he had found out, he had even told the woman, but she hadn't believed him of course. She would when they reached them and he turned her over to them.

  When he had first begun to realize that he was dead, and then had begun to think seriously about the Bible for the first time ever, he had realized that maybe the three little words alone, might not do the trick.

  He had decided they should also be preceded by an act of kindness, and in Willie's mind, giving her back to them, and warning them about the missiles, would be that act of kindness. He had no idea how he knew that the missiles would be launched, any more than he knew how the four of them were heading back to Rochester, or even how he would be able to find them in all this water. But he knew, and maybe it was right to know, because knowing gave him the opportunity to atone for some of his sins, and that might make the three little words work. Maybe, maybe not.

  He had intended to turn her over before, but only to piss Luther off, not to redeem himself. Just to let Luther see that he, Willie, could do it. But, the redemption part of it made it better, somehow. More worthwhile even, he thought.

  He thought briefly that maybe he should pray now, test it out, but immediately rejected it. It might work. In fact it might work right now, and right now was too soon.

  He reached down and flicked on the running lights, jamming the throttle to the stops. If he was to arrive before Ron, and hand over the woman, he would have to speed it up.

  Willie and Frank

  Jimmy, who had broken a rib himself once, insisted on looking at Gary's bruised side. Reluctantly Gary turned the controls over to Jeremiah, and submitted to a brief examination.

  "So, now he's a doctor and a cop," Gary said, as Jimmy carefully touched the swollen area, poking gingerly.

  "May be just sprained," Jimmy said. "Does that hurt?" He gently pushed at the bruised flesh. Gary's face turned instantly pale, and he quickly sucked in a deep breath. Jimmy could see well enough, even in the dark, to know the answer.

  "Not a lot," Gary lied, through clenched teeth.

  Jimmy arched his eyebrows. "Oh really? So if I pushed a little harder?"

  "Okay, so it hurts a lot," Gary admitted.

  "Like I thought," Jimmy said. "Any trouble breathing. Does it hurt to breath, or feel as if anything's pinching when you breathe?"

  "No, just like a heavy duty stitch in my side," Gary said, "it only aches if I breath deep, but if I move too quickly, I get that sharp stitch...or if somebody
pokes it," he finished, looking directly at Jimmy.

  "Okay, I get the point," he replied, "it probably isn't an actual break, probably a fracture, or badly bruised. But I'm not a doctor..."

  "My point exactly," Gary quipped.

  "Okay, okay, I'm not a doctor, but I did break one of my ribs once, and you have to be careful. If it is broken, you could be in danger, so I really think you should be careful," Jimmy said, as he pulled his shirt off, and began to tear it into strips.

  "You trying to impress me?" Gary asked.

  "Funny. No, but I am going to bind those ribs. It's probably going to hurt while I do it, but it will make them feel a lot better after."

  Gary clenched his teeth and held his breath, as Jimmy wrapped the torn pieces of shirt around his swollen chest, and was surprised when it actually did help. He started to get up and Jimmy stopped him. "Let Jeremiah handle the boat. Twisting that wheel along with the vibration, are two things you don't need right now. Take a chill-pill Gary," he finished.

  "A what?"

  Jimmy grinned. "Just a saying I picked up working the Streets. Calm down, in other words. Relax."

  "Oh... cool," Gary said, sarcastically. "Better keep an eye on Doctor Jim here, Frank. He's losing his marbles." Jimmy was about to reply when Jeremiah suddenly spoke.

  "Boat coming," he said calmly.

  Frank whipped around and looked back into their wake. "Where?" he asked, turning back around. Jeremiah didn't need to answer, Frank saw for himself when he turned around. The boat was approaching from the front, not the rear as they had expected, and it was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Jeremiah killed the motor. The moon was clouded, and maybe, he reasoned, the boat would blow right by them. No sooner had he completed the thought though, then the clouds parted and the moon rolled out of the darkness. Bad luck, he thought. The moon, after the almost total darkness, lit up the water like daylight. The approaching boat reversed its own engine about forty yards away, cut in their direction, and drifted to a stop less than five feet from them.