Verge of Extinction (Apex Predator Book 3)

by Glyn Gardner

  SSgt Brown and Roy were busy planning their next move. SSgt Brown figured that if he had friendly people around here and there were relatively few zombies, then he was going to try to work this area as much as possible. He had even agreed that he would try to find things Roy and his people needed. He said it would kind of be like a tax for hunting on the king’s lands.

  Roy had assured him that wasn’t necessary, but SSgt Brown insisted. “Well then,” the sailor said as he stood. “Come with me and I’ll show you what we have for you.”

  He led SSgt Brown outside to the Orange Jeep. A pair of legs hung from the open door on the passenger side. As they got closer, SSgt Brown noticed the large chrome antenna already mounted to the rear. “We found a few CB radios,” Roy announced with a smile.

  He approached the door. “How’s it going, Jeff?”

  “Almost done,” the voice replied. “Give me about five minutes.”

  The sailor turned to SSgt Brown. “We have one just like it inside. We’ll have ours on from sun up to mid-afternoon. Anytime you’re in the area, we’ll keep it on until you leave.”

  “That’s great! But, I need one more if I could get one.” The sailor looked at him quizzically. “You know, I need one for the boat. I would think a sailor would have thought of that.”

  “I didn’t do a lot of time on ships my friend. This ole’ sailor was strictly a land lubber.” They both chuckled as they climbed back onto the roof.

  The two men looked at Jen and stopped laughing. Roy had pushed SSgt. Brown to have Jen look at some his sick and injured. There was nothing pressing, but he figured if he had access to a nurse, he’d use her. SSgt Brown had to explain that the man he’d lost today was Jen’s husband. At that point, Roy let the matter drop.

  Now he was face to face with her again. He didn’t know what to say. Everyone at the Haven had lost loved ones. Some had been forced to do the deed themselves. All had the same look as Jen when they thought about it. Roy thought about it. He still hadn’t figured out how to talk to someone who was grieving.

  The two men just stood for a moment staring, slack jawed, at the neophyte widow. Her cheeks wet and streaked with tears. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes. Roy tried to speak first.

  “Jen,” he began. “I’m… I… Well, we…” Mercifully, her gaze returned once more to the hospital. SSgt Brown placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Jen,” he said quietly. “We have to go soon.” His touch was comforting somehow to Jen. It was the gentle touch of a true friend. It gave her a sense of peace, even if it was fleeting. She tried to smile at her friends. “I’ll be ok,” she told them. “I… I just…” She dropped her gaze and strode slowly away.

  SSgt Brown motioned for Roy to follow. His heart was heavy also. He had always considered Mike to be a friend. He was a good shot and had turned out to be a competent zombie killer. He also knew that Mike had been a stabilizing force for Jen. SSgt Brown had recognized very early on that Jen was volatile. She was quick to anger and became disheartened very easily. Without Mike, he wasn’t sure how stable she would be.

  Sgt Procell was slowly circling a few hundred yards off shore as Jackson slammed on the Jeep’s brakes. It took him only a moment to see the group and bring the boat to the shoreline. He noticed immediately that Mike was missing. The others remained silent as they loaded the medical supplies onto the boat. A knot had formed in his stomach. He wanted to know the details, but knew better than to ask in front of Jen. He would find out from SSgt Brown later that evening.

  A dozen people met them on the dock when they arrived back on the Island. The crowd immediately began unloading the medical supplies and hauling them to the clinic. No one noticed Jen as she slowly walked to hers and Mike’s room.

  She quietly shut the door and lay down on her sleeping bag. Curling into a tight ball, she began to sob. Soon she was crying uncontrollably. Her body shuddered with each tear. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was so tight; it felt as if it would burst with every breath she took.

  She wasn’t prepared for this. During this entire ordeal, she had never once worried about Mike. He had always been there. He had always been calm and collected. He’d never once done anything to cause her to worry. She had just known that he would survive this. He’d always come through rough spots without trouble. He was the ultimate survivor. And now he was gone and she was alone. The thought brought on another flood of tears and convulsions.

  She had no idea how long she’d been on the floor when the door opened and shut. It was so quiet. The light that filled the room and then receded again was the only sign that the door had moved. Suddenly a body slid behind her. She tensed at the tender touch as small arms wrapped around her.

  She could feel the small early pubescent breasts on her back. The arms were much smaller than hers. She knew at once it was Theresa. The girl didn’t speak. She just held Jen as a mother would hold a child. Soon, Jen could feel the girl’s own body begin to shudder. She too was crying for Mike. She too felt pain at his passing. Somehow, this made Jen feel a little better. Something about knowing others shared in her pain lessened it just a bit.

  “I’m telling you,” a woman’s voice screamed from the Bishop’s office. He stood quietly listening. “I don’t know anything about plumbing or fire hoses or things like that!”

  “Ms. Hebert,” the Bishop said quietly. “Have you ever heard of a camp follower?”

  The woman gasped audibly. “I will have you know, sir, that I am no prostitute!” SSgt Brown heard a chair creak loudly as someone shifted their position.

  “Ma’am, I assume you are an educated woman. Would I be right in that assumption?”

  “Yes,” she replied angrily. “I am a lawyer….”

  “Good,” he cut her off. “Then you will understand that I was not calling you a prostitute. I will give you a small history lesson for free.” Again the chair moaned under someone’s shifting weight. “During the American Revolution there were a large number of soldier’s wives and other women who followed the army around. They did things like: laundry, mend clothes, cook, nurse, and carry pitchers of water to the men on the gun lines.”

  He paused for a brief moment. “Have you ever heard of the term Molly Pitcher?”

  “Yes,” she replied hesitantly. “It sounds familiar.”

  “Molly Pitcher,” he began. “She was a woman named Mary Ludwig Hays. Her husband was an American artilleryman at the battle of Monmouth. It was hot that day in 1778, and many of the camp followers spent time carrying water to the soldiers. Mrs. Hays saw her husband fall. Instead of attending to him, or continuing on with water duty, she did something that women generally didn’t do in the 18th century. She took his place at the gun and continued to service that cannon.”

  “So, what does that have to do with me?” she asked.

  “Staff Sergeant Brown!” the man bellowed. “Please come in.” He motioned for the NCO to have a seat next to Ms. Hebert. “As you are too stubborn to follow the simple directions that I have given you, and Staff Sergeant Brown has lost a man today, you will take your place on the gun line.” Her jaw dropped.

  SSgt Brown couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t even know the Bishop knew about Mike. That had been what he was here to discuss with him. “You are now assigned to Staff Sergeant Brown’s foraging team. Try not to get yourself killed.” He waved her away.

  “So, as you can see, I have heard you lost a man. How is my nurse taking it?”

  “She’s pretty broke up. I lost track of her after we got back, but I’m pretty sure she’s found a place to curl up and cry it out.” He didn’t tell the Bishop his concerns about her ability to function. Not after he saw what the man had done to Ms. Hebert.

  “Is there anything else I need to know?” the Bishop asked.

  “Only that we did manage to get everything on the list,” the soldier replied.

  “Good. Be here at eight in the morning. I’ll have tomorrow’s list ready for you.” He wave
d SSgt Brown away.

  Day 38

  The Island

  Kerry carefully opened the door to Jen’s room. In her left hand was a plate of food, a bottle of orange juice hung out of her right cargo pocket. The sight before her made her heart sink. There was Jen and Theresa lying on the floor, cuddled together as one. She couldn’t imagine the pain Jen was going through. She thought about her parents, little brother, and her uncle. She missed Eddie the most. She had long ago accepted the fact that they had not survived. But, she did not have to see it for herself.

  The two stirred as the door latched shut. Jen sat up as Theresa simply rolled over.

  “Good morning,” Kerry said with the cheeriest voice she could muster. “I brought some breakfast.” She held the plate a bit higher. “You really should eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Jen replied.

  “You need to eat. You also need to get down to the clinic. Folks are going to start lining up to see your pretty face.” She looked at Theresa. “You need to go get something to eat too. Staff Sergeant Brown said we’re out of here in an hour.”

  Theresa looked at Jen; her eyes betrayed the pain she felt. “Ok, Miss Jen. I’ll be back this afternoon.” She hugged the older woman in the tightest embrace she could. She whispered “I love you,” ever so softly in the older woman’s ear and kissed her gently on the cheek. Then, she was gone.

  Kerry sat down in front of Jen, setting the plate down in front of her. She didn’t know what to say. She’d been thinking about something all night, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Finally she blurted it out. “I need something of Mike’s”

  “What?” Jen asked.

  “I know it sounds strange, but I need something of Mike’s.”

  “Why?”

  Kerry pulled a coin out of her pocket. The coin was oversized and appeared to be made of tarnished brass. The coin had an arrow head enameled in blue with a yellow lightning bolt emblazoned in it. “This belonged to my uncle. He was in Vietnam. He gave it to me when I was twelve. I was competing in my first spelling bee. I was so nervous.” She felt that familiar knot forming in her throat. “When I was nervous, he told me to put my hand in my pocket and give it a little rub with my thumb.”

  “So, what happened?” Jen asked.

  “I don’t know. He called me on my cell phone that first morning and told me to lock all the doors and stay inside. I didn’t listen and went to work. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  Jen’s heart sank. “I was really asking about the spelling bee.”

  “Oh, I won. Uncle Eddy was so proud of me. We went out for pizza and ice cream after that.” A tear began to plow through the grime on her cheek. She shook her head and wiped the tear on her sleeve. She held the coin closer to Jen.

  “You see, Uncle Eddy was my closest relative. He was always there for me. He was there for me when the world fell apart. I just wasn’t smart enough at the time to understand it. I’m sure he’s dead, and he probably died trying to get to me.” The tear returned. This time both cheeks became streaked. “I am going to make a shrine for the ones we’ve lost. I want Uncle Eddy’s coin and something of Mike’s to start it.”

  Jen didn’t know what to think. She had never thought about something to commemorate the dead. There had been so many in the last month. But, she could see how it would be a nice thing. She looked around the room. There, pinned to the end of his sleeping bag, was his name tag from his work uniform. He had pinned it there when Theresa and Davy were there so neither of the children would sleep in his sleeping bag. He had always been self conscious about his foot odor and didn’t want the kids to have to sleep in his foot funk, as he had put it.

  She slipped the pin out of the sleeping bag and handed it to the younger woman. Kerry’s face brightened. She could already envision how her shrine would look with the coin and the shiny name tag with the words “Mike Walters” engraved in it.

  Moss Point MS

  Tina could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. Things had most definitely not turned out the way she and Heather had planned it. She looked up. The balding man in front of her smiled at her with an evil smile. She knew she was going to die. Even now the grin sent a shiver down her spine. How did this happen? When did it happen? But she knew. It all started when he showed up.

  Tina and Heather had been secretaries together at a small accounting firm in Mobile. They had been friends for several years. They had laughed, joked, dated the same guys, and even gotten into trouble at work together. They had been forced to associate only outside of work after an incident involving one of the owners.

  And, that was where they were, at breakfast before work, on the day the world ended. Neither of the women had recognized what was going on. First, there was a commotion outside of the coffee shop, the next thing they knew a man covered in blood came crashing through the window. Two more followed him in. The trio began attacking patrons and employees alike.

  The two girls were frozen with fear. Luckily for them, there was a couple standing behind them in line that recognized the scene for what it was. Cathleen and Erik grabbed the women and dragged them away from the coffee shop of carnage.

  An hour later the four were on I-10 heading west. The couple were both ex-military. Tina picked up on that without asking. The man, Erik, was very bossy. He never asked the two girls to do anything. He was always ordering them around. It drove Tina crazy that this man would think he’s in charge. They hadn’t elected him.

  His wife was no better. Oh sure, she would always ask. But, she wasn’t really asking. She was still ordering them around. When they finally found a safe place somewhere in Mississippi, they kept at it. They would spend hours forcing them to listen to lectures on survival, weapons, and stuff they called personal protective equipment. Like either her or Heather were going to be butchering those things. Tina planned on staying as far away from the dead as she could. They didn’t need to know all of that stuff.

  The two girls had discussed leaving the couple, but reluctantly decided to stay. They decided to keep cooking and cleaning. Then Andrew Wiggins showed up. They had found him one day while foraging. He had been alone and looked and smelled like he hadn’t showered in a week. They had taken him in. He seemed so weak, as he climbed the stairs to their hiding place.

  He was tall and thin. His receding hairline made him look older than his reported thirty years. He wore blue jeans that hung off of him and a denim vest. The scar on his left cheek was still a pale-pink. Tina told Heather it made him look somehow tougher than his 155 pounds should have. Heather had mentioned something about liking the bad boy type when she and Tina had been alone. The man was definitely cute, Tina had agreed.

  He told a story of an escape from a city along the Florida coast. He told them of his brothers who had not made it. No one in the group seemed to know if those brothers were blood relatives or some other form of brothers.

  Erik asked about his name. He said he recognized it from some book. Andrew simply answered that his dad had been an Orson Scott Card fan. He told them that he grew up with his father calling him “Ender.” He was almost sure that was why he didn’t like to read, he chuckled.

  The honeymoon with Andrew soon ended for Erik and Cathleen. Even as he regained his strength, he would refuse to do anything for himself. He didn’t wash one dish, forage for any food, nor pick up one piece of garbage from the floor. When pressed, he would simply tell them he still felt too weak.

  Then one night it happened. While Erik and Cathleen were sleeping, Andrew woke the two girls. He told them that he could see they were tired of living life under the yoke of such unfair leaders. He admitted to them that he had some friends around and they would be glad to take in a couple of pretty girls.

  The girls agreed that things were not to their liking and wanted out. Andrew told them that he had a plan. All the girls had to do was to kill their two rescuers in their sleep. At first Heather was reluctant. “But they saved us,” she pleaded with Tina.

&nbs
p; “No, they didn’t save us. They brought a couple of slaves along so they wouldn’t have to work so hard. They deserve this. They should have listened when I said they ain’t in charge.” Without hesitation, the black woman pulled out the knife that Erik had given her that first day.

  The look she gave Heather was not one of pleading, but of demanding. She was demanding that she too take part in this act of mutiny. The young blonde slowly withdrew her knife. Her gaze fell upon the blade. There was a large eagle engraved in the blade. Cathleen had told her that she had bought it while deployed to the Middle East.

  She hesitated. The black woman suddenly grabbed her wrist. When she made eye contact, the older woman’s eyes were filled with hatred. “Do it!” she hissed. “Do it now!” The younger girl drove her knife into the neck of the sleeping Erik. The man struggled for a moment. He gasped for breath as blood poured from his neck, filling the room with the metallic smell of blood.

  A glance at Cathleen showed a much calmer scene. Tina had plunged the knife through the left ear of the sleeping woman. She hadn’t move as she died, the blood oozing around the knife. Tina’s face betrayed the hatred she held for the former soldier, turned rescuer. She drove the woman’s head into the decking with her boot as she jerked the knife free.

  That was a week ago. Things had gone from bad to worse. Some of Andrew’s friends had shown up later that day. There were seven of them that first day. None of them were clean shaven, or even looked like they had been at any time in the past. Many had dark, monochrome, tattoos. Tina recognized them as prison tattoos. These men had all spent time in prison. Over the next few days, the group saw a steady influx of every form of bad character. There were gang bangers, outlaw bikers and drug dealers. By the time they had all arrived, there were twenty-eight in all.

  The two women found out exactly how bad these twenty-eight bad boys were. The next few days the women were truly treated as slaves. They were forced to serve the men food, clean everything, and cook. The men did nothing but drink. Well, some of them had other habits that weren’t as socially accepted. Tina couldn’t believe that anyone could shoot up these days. When she asked the question, she received a backhand and was told to mind her own business.