Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending

by Brian Stewart

  “OK, I’m going to bring her in closer to shore. If anything rings a bell, just let me know.”

  Michelle nodded and I eased the craft forward, holding steady directly toward the middle of the long line of cabins. One hundred yards from shore I throttled back and dropped the boat into neutral while Michelle searched through her binoculars.

  “I don’t know,” Michelle called over to me, “I mean it looks like what I remember, but so do a few other cabins. And several of the docks have those ‘neighborhood watch’ signs attached to them.”

  I dug through my pack and retrieved my own set of binoculars, joining her in the scan. I saw no movement, but I did note something that got filed in the “damn it” folder.

  “Look to the left—about ten o’clock—near the beached red and white canoe.”

  “I see it,” Michelle replied, “and there’s several more a little bit past that . . . underneath the yellow porch awning.”

  I shifted my binoculars and followed her directions, easily locating the bodies that lay there. “So much for this area being clean,” I said.

  We put down our binoculars and looked at each other for a minute; neither of us speaking while we concentrated on the options available. Not too distant gunshots egged us on, and Michelle went first. “I’m not really sure that I’ll be able to pick out the right one from here. But I may have come up with a thought that will help. It’s going to require us to land, though.”

  “We’d have to land eventually anyhow,” I replied, adding “What’s your idea?” as I brought the binoculars up to my eyes again.

  “All of these cabins look similar, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s the way they build them a lot of times. Some contractor or corporation will buy a strip of land and have duplicates—sometimes hundreds—of the same blueprint put up. It’s supposed to save them money and time, I guess.”

  “Yep, and then they rent them out to tourists or fishermen . . . or sell them to people like my dad. Anyway, I may not be able to give us an exact location from here, but if my mom made it here, her car should be in the driveway of the correct cabin.”

  “Do these cabins have garages on the other side,” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. At least, I know dad’s didn’t.”

  “OK, what’s your mom driving these days?”

  “She just bought a dark blue Subaru Outback last fall.”

  “Alright, we’ve got about two dozen cabins on this stretch, right?”

  “Yeah,” Michelle replied, “but I don’t think it was near the end. I think dad’s cabin was somewhere closer to the middle.”

  “Fair enough then . . . we’ll head straight in and back the boat into one of those docks in front of us. Hopefully we won’t stir up anything. There are four keys on the ring that will work for this patrol boat. Let’s hide one onboard just in case, and then I’m going to give you your own copy . . . just in case.”

  Michelle frowned, but after a moment she took the offered key and I continued. “From there, we need to run the same way we did last night. I’ll lead with the .22, and you provide cover with each leapfrog that we do. Assuming we make it between the cabins and out to the road, we’ll look for your mom’s car, and if we find it, head that way.”

  “What if we find her car and it’s six or eight cabins away. Are we going to come back and move the patrol boat?”

  “Maybe, but for right now let’s just see if we can even locate the correct cabin. Are you good with that plan?”

  The sound of her dropping the bolt on a freshly inserted thirty round magazine in her AR was all the answer I needed, so I geared up, and after another scan that located no movement, idled the boat forward.

  Chapter 58

  “Clear.” Michelle’s voice came through my headset as I melded my back into the rough sawn boards that served as exterior siding on the cabin.

  “Remember our spacing. We don’t want to get so tight that we can’t provide fire support for the other person without bouncing our brass off of their forehead.”

  She didn’t reply, but a sideways glance showed that Michelle was still crouched next to the rusting barbecue grill that decorated a small cement pad near the dock where we had anchored. I was about sixty feet from her, working my way through the narrow tract of land between two cabins and heading for the road. Five more feet and I’d be able to peer around the corner of the cabin. I crouched down and slunk along the wall, deliberately choosing clear spaces to set my boots in as I stepped forward. At the corner, I eased my nose around and looked to the left. Nothing. Well, nothing with snapping teeth and rage-fueled eyes anyhow. My view of the road was partially blocked on both sides by the metal rectangles that held the HVAC units for the cabins, so I dropped to my belly and used them to conceal my movement as I crawled for a better angle.

  “Are we still clear Michelle?”

  “I have no movement, but just remember, I also don’t have many options if something comes into the gap between the cabins where you are. It’ll be like shooting down a pipe for me.”

  “As long as nothing comes from my six we should be OK . . . Shit.”

  “What,” her voice whispered through my headset.

  “I have movement. One of the cabins across the road—the blinds just pushed to the side for a second.” I backpedaled on my stomach until I was behind the HVAC, acutely aware that most of the components held within would offer little protection from any projectile larger than a BB gun. A brief flash of one of my firearms instructors from the academy came into mind as she pointed at a series of large holes in the abandoned car that had been positioned at the state range. “Most of the people you’ll have daily dealings with,” she said, “will be armed with calibers capable of handling animals the size of a moose. If you think you’ll be safe in your truck, think again. You need to always remember that there’s a huge difference between cover and concealment.”

  With that thought in my mind, I unzipped my jacket partway and withdrew my compact binoculars. A moment later I was peeking over the sheet metal enclosure and looking at the cabin across the road. The blinds were pulled aside again, and I saw a pair of binoculars looking back at me. I couldn’t tell who was behind the binoculars, though.

  “Um, I’m looking at someone who is looking back at me through their own binoculars,” I said to Michelle.

  “In the cabin across the road?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wave.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Wave to them. Let them know you’re not infected.”

  “I don’t think many ghouls hide behind air conditioners and use binoculars.”

  “Wave anyhow—show them you’re friendly.”

  I half stood and gave a brief wave. Across the road, the blinds closed. I radioed that to Michelle.

  “Are you ready for me to transition?” she asked.

  “Let me crawl back out and take a look first, I didn’t really get a chance to do that a minute ago.”

  “OK.”

  I dropped to my stomach and crawled out past the HVAC, scanning the yards on both sides as I went. A low hump in the landscaping was blocking part of my vision, so I wormed forward a few more feet until I had a clear view. When I halted, I noticed that the blinds were once again held partially open. Movement attracts vision, but I risked another small wave before raising my binoculars. I started from the left and walked them a full 180 degrees, pausing momentarily to make contact and give a little head bob to the pair gazing back at me. “OK, good news-bad news.”

  “Give me the bad news.” Michelle’s voice was guarded.

  “Why do people always want the bad news first?” I asked.

  “Eric, just tell me—do you see mom’s car?”

  “No.” Through my headset I heard a deep sigh followed by silence. When Michelle's voice came back it was tinged with anger.

  “We need to get out of here. It was asinine for me to even think she might have made it. I’m sorry for dragging you along on this
wild goose chase Eric, but we should go.”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Why? Her car isn’t here, and we’re not even sure which cabin is dad’s anyhow. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Not even for your dad?” I knew Michelle's family situation, and I kept my tone neutral.

  Silence.

  In the distance, a quadruple series of small caliber gun shots rang out, and as they faded away into the cold morning air, Michelle’s soft whisper came through.

  “No.”

  I let her answer echo down to silence in my headset, and then waited for her to say something—anything—that I could interpret as a grasp for hope. After thirty seconds of stillness, it came in the form of a question.

  “Eric, what are you thinking?”

  It took another scan with the binoculars as I answered. “Several things, actually. The first one is that I know both of us, and neither you nor I will get a peaceful night of sleep for the rest of our lives if we walk away without knowing for sure. Back at my uncle’s cabin, we both promised to give this our best effort, whether we succeeded or not. My opinion, take it for what it’s worth, is that we need to follow through with that promise.”

  Michelle started to interject something, but then checked herself into a hesitant silence, so I continued, “I don’t see your mom’s Subaru, but something to consider is that not every cabin has a vehicle parked in front of it. The cabin across the road where the blinds are moving has no car in the driveway. There’s something else also.”

  “What?”

  “I can see at least fourteen corpses scattered in the vicinity, including three that are crumpled near the porch of the cabin across the road. I can’t really make out any wounds on them from my angle, but there’s another one sprawled in the middle of the road about forty yards to my right. He’s shirtless, and his skin is definitely gray . . . and,” I finished my observation, “it looks like he’s been shot—a lot.”

  “How does that help us? What you’re really telling me is that this area is just as infested with walkers as pretty much every other place we’ve been.”

  “Yeah, but right now I don’t see any moving, so maybe there’s still some people nearby who’ve been able to make a stand. For all we know, there could be fifty armed people spread out in these cabins who can take down any ghoul that shows up.”

  “And using your own logic, do you feel safe walking out onto a road where fifty potentially trigger happy, scared people might be pointing guns at you?”

  “Not particularly, but I don’t really think that’s the case. What I’m trying to say is that it looks like somebody made a stand here, so the area might be fairly thinned out of infected.”

  As I finished my sentence, fate jumped in to convince me that, as usual, I had spoken too soon. “Wait, I have movement now—coming from my left. Reassure me Michelle.”

  One of the things that I had always loved about Michelle was that she knew exactly when to be serious. This was no exception, and any thoughts of her missing mother evaporated in an instant, leaving behind a crystal clear, no nonsense tone. “I have no movement on this side, repeat, I have no movement on the side. Your six is clear and I’m standing by, over.”

  “10-4,” I replied in a hush as I shifted the binoculars and looked down the road. A pair of kids, probably in their early teens, walked along the edge of the road. They were heading this way, dragging something through the gravel behind them as they approached. At about thirty yards, I could tell they were infected. The “thing” that one of them was dragging was an old, military style rifle, complete with a full length wooden stock and bayonet. Part of an olive drab, canvas sling was still looped around one of the boy’s wrists, with the remaining length unfolded and trailing at his heels. The end of the canvas sling passed through a slot in the wood near the butt plate of the rifle, giving just enough reach to elevate the wood off of the ground. A narrow, jerky channel was being gouged in the gravel by the rifle’s bayonet, and intermittent gaps corresponded to where the butt plate kicked off against the boy’s ankle with every other step. I dropped the binoculars and slowly pulled up the .22.

  “Two targets, closing slow from the left, definitely infected. They’ll pass too close to me for safety if I don’t take them out. Getting ready to fire.” My finger brushed the trigger, settling in to a practiced feel as the red crosshairs in the holographic sight merged with the forehead of the one dragging the rifle.

  Ca-thack.

  The impact of the sixty grain lead slug was true, and the boy staggered momentarily before falling to the ground and spasming violently. His partner twisted sideways, almost in slow motion as he passed the one I just shot, finally halting with his back to me as he looked down at the still kicking form of his companion. I sent another round into the soft spot at the back of his skull, and he collapsed forward and lay still, partly across his thrashing companion. I had a clear shot, so I sent a third bullet into the temple of the one I had dropped first. He stopped moving.

  “Three shots, two down.”

  “Still clear on this side.”

  “Let’s give it a few minutes to see if anything else shows up.”

  “10-4.”

  In less than a minute I had to repeat the scenario with a single ghoul that wandered in from the same direction.

  “That’s three.”

  “How much longer do you want me to wait before I move up?” Michelle asked.

  “I think ten minutes with no encounters should be our thermometer.”

  “Understood. Waiting and watching.”

  The next ten minutes passed uneventfully, and Michelle moved up and got in position at the corner of the cabin.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think we should get back in the boat and get out of here.”

  “No you don’t. Not really.”

  “Well then tell me what I’m thinking Eric.” Her voice was soft, but her inflection had a hard edge to it. I could tell she was disappointed, and the razor of anger was her way of dealing with the sadness and loss she was feeling.

  “I think . . . that you’re thinking . . . that we should go to the house across the street.”

  “What? I’m not thinking that at all.”

  I turned my head toward Michelle just in time to see her flick a marble-sized rock at me. My cheese eating grin doubled the effort she put into her frown, and I turned back around to look through the binoculars as I spoke. “See, I was correct. You’re obviously trying to get my attention so you can tell me that whoever lives in that house might know the precise location of your dad’s cabin. I happen to think that’s a wonderful idea, and my only regret is that I’m not the one who thought of it.”

  “You’re insane, you know that, right?”

  “So I’ve been told on numerous occasions. But for now, let’s put my mental status on hold and see about getting an invite to the spooky looking house across the road with the ghostly floating binoculars.”

  I heard Michelle bite back a giggle, and then she replied, “If this turns out to be one of those horror flick cabins filled with cannibal midgets, you better hope they eat you to death before I get my hands on you.”

  My smile got even wider at her words, and I turned again to face her. “Eat me to death? That doesn’t make sense even to me! What kind of a saying is that?”

  She peeled off the wall and army crawled forward until she was next to me. Her left hand descended on the back of my neck and she squeezed lightly. “Promise me no cannibal midgets.”

  “I think that can be arranged,” I chuckled, glad for the little release of tension.

  Another scan through the full range of our vision revealed nothing moving, and I turned my attention back to the open blinds. The darkness beyond the window concealed whatever figure held the binoculars, but the important thing is that they were still looking at Michelle and I.

  “Keep your binoculars focused on the window,” I said, “I’m going to try and mime our intentions.”