The Last Bastion (Book 3): The Last Bastion

by K. W. Callahan

  But Victor had quickly realized that his followers were not the proficient hunters that he was. And this realization presented another problem – how to get his herd fed without getting them killed. While his followers remained much the same hunters they had been since they’d become like Victor, their remaining prey seemed to have become far more dangerous, and far more adept at killing those like Victor and his herd. They’d armed themselves with the things that exploded, shooting hot metal into the flesh of those like Victor. And they’d holed themselves up far more securely in their dens where they could use their exploding devices to kill those like Victor without ever presenting Victor and his herd the opportunity for a fair fight.

  But Victor was learning from these experiences, and in the process, he was teaching those like him. Over the past week, he’d been leading small packs out on hunting trips. He’d take five or six of his herd with him at a time. Any more than that and it became difficult to teach them all and keep them from straying. Five or six was enough to give him the muscle necessary to take down their prey, but it wasn’t so many that it became difficult to control them. Sometimes, his followers would become overly incensed by the sight of their prey and their lust to feed their hunger or spread their affliction. Then they would break off from the small pack he’d formed to attack on their own. This would either scare off their prey or result in their prey being able to kill these individual followers far more easily.

  More recently, Victor had been letting some of the stronger, more intelligent and well trained in his herd take turns leading hunts of their own. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was doing this, but something in him was saying that it was a good idea to have others in the herd trained as he was in the art of the hunt. And he was doing his best to impart the skills and knowledge he’d gained not only in hunting but in tracking their prey and accessing the dens in which they hid.

  Sometimes Victor would go on these hunts, either as a guide or to gauge the progress being made with his training. The light-skinned woman who had been the first to join him was one of his best hunters. She had been eager to learn, and he had found her easy to teach. Others in his herd were slower to understand what he was trying to impart to them. Sometimes they just wanted the food, but they didn’t want to put in the effort necessary to safely get it. But overall, they were learning, and Victor had a select few in his herd that he was now comfortable sending out in their own hunting parties.

  This helped Victor because it allowed him to focus on teaching newcomers instead of hunting all day. In one of his training hunts earlier in the week, however, Victor had stumbled upon an interesting spot. He had been unable to obtain any food from the location, but the spot had provided him with additional members willing to follow him back to his main herd. And while that would mean having to find even more food to feed these ravenous mouths, something inside Victor told him that this was okay.

  Victor wasn’t sure why he was doing what he was doing, but something inside him was telling him he was moving in the right direction. Something inside him had clicked.

  Victor looked up at the half moon. He looked down at the light it was casting over the river beside which he now stood. It cast a glimmering, silvery sheen across the rippling water. The night was so much brighter when the moon was out. That made it easier to see. On nights with no moon, it was almost pointless to be outside at night. But the moon made it easier to navigate, made it easier to hunt amidst the shadows, and those facts told Victor something. He wasn’t sure exactly what it told him, or how he might use it to his advantage, but he was confident he would figure it out.

  CHAPTER 9

  At the beginning of February, the extreme cold spell that had been hovering over the Chicagoland area finally broke. This didn’t mean that it was suddenly warm outside. But temperatures were at least now breaking the freezing mark during the day.

  One of the positives of the cold spell that had lasted nearly two weeks was that it had driven the majority of the biters still lingering around the base of the tower to search for shelter. But with no signs of outside assistance, the potential for unseen dangers in the outside world still high, and no better alternative shelter in mind, the Blenders continued to hold out inside their tower bastion.

  There had been another positive of the decrease in biters around the tower. With the majority of the teeth-gnashing beasts having departed in search of food or warmth, the Blenders were presented with an opportunity. After neutralizing the last few remaining biters outside, several Blenders had made a break for their vehicles. But their effort wasn’t to use the vehicles to flee the city. Instead, they raided the vehicles for some of their remaining fuel to continue powering the generators that kept their living conditions habitable. And as they made their retreat back inside the castle, they were able to use cut lengths of rope, some cargo straps they acquired from inside the vehicles, and some chain from inside the tower to re-establish the broken pieces of fencing around the tower’s perimeter.

  These actions helped solidify the Blender’s supply situation inside the tower.

  But not everyone was so lucky.

  Toward the end of January, the Blenders had noticed new signs hung from the condo building balconies across the parking lot from the tower. Previous signs hanging from the balconies, written in bright paint across white sheets had remained in place for weeks. But now the messages these banners contained were far more cryptic. “BODIES INSIDE!”, “OUT OF FOOD!”, “DESPERATE – HELP US!” were the pleas visible to the Blenders from Hofmann Tower.

  “I can’t believe anyone is still over there…and alive,” Wendell said, one early-February afternoon as the Blenders met in their third-floor living quarters to discuss their neighbors’ plight. “I would have thought they’d have run out of food and water long ago,” he added.

  “They’ve probably been living off almost nothing,” Charla shook her head sadly. “The conditions are probably horrific.”

  “Wonder if they’ve cleared all the biters inside?” Michael frowned.

  “I doubt it,” Chris said. “If they had, they’d probably have been able to get into other condos and find food. And even if there wasn’t much food left in the abandoned condos, or where biters already got the occupants, I’d think there’d be enough to last those people several weeks. ”

  “So you think there might still be food over there?” Michael eyed Chris.

  “Possibly…probably. Who knows? Might be worth a shot to find out. Most of the biters around here have moved on because of the cold weather. Maybe it’s the same over there.”

  “Or maybe that’s where all the biters went to take shelter,” Wendell said.

  Chris shrugged. “Maybe, but we could probably make it over there pretty quick. We could check it out and decide whether it’s worth our while. Might be able to help the poor people still stuck in there, too.”

  “Yeah, we need more mouths to feed like I need a hole in the head,” Michael snorted.

  “Well, I don’t think we can just leave them there to starve,” Ms. Mary spoke up.

  “We could,” Wendell eyed her.

  “Just remember where you came from,” Ms. Mary eyed him coolly.

  “What’s our own food situation look like, anyway, Michael?” Julia Justak asked.

  Michael gave a slight shrug. He wanted to be honest, but he also didn’t want to excessively worry anyone regarding their situation inside the tower. “A couple months if we really stretch things,” he lied a little.

  It was probably closer to six weeks, but Michael didn’t think that bringing that fact up in front of everyone would do the group as a whole much good. They’d been doing a good job of making their supplies last over the past few weeks, but Michael had quickly realized in his inventory taking that 15 people could consume a lot of supplies very rapidly. They’d gone through their supply of toilet paper and bottled water long ago. They’d been reduced to using a supply of rough, brown paper towels they’d found in a supply closet on the fifth fl
oor as toilet paper for the past week. And by this point in their stay, they’d consumed over half their fresh meat supply.

  “Guess we’ll have to bolster our fishing efforts,” Wendell shot a look over at Charla and Chris.

  “Well I’m game for giving getting over there a shot,” Patrick Trove announced. “My leg’s pretty much healed, and hell, I’ve been pent up in here so long, I’m going stir crazy. I’m gonna go berserk from cabin fever if I don’t get a change of atmosphere soon. If I have to kill a few biters to get it, so be it.”

  “And if it helps bolster our food stocks, I’m up for it too,” Chris said.

  “I’m not thrilled with the idea,” Michael frowned, the possible risks of such an operation running rampant through his mind.

  Venturing outside the tower, even if it was just across the parking lot, didn’t sound like a great idea to him. And there was no telling what lay in wait inside the condo building. It could be filled with biters seeking shelter. Or it could contain desperate survivors willing to do anything for food, including lying, stealing, or killing. But knowing that without additional supplies, their food situation inside the tower wouldn’t get them much past the winter months was something he couldn’t ignore.

  “I mean, we don’t know how desperate those people inside are,” Wendell bolstered Michael’s concerns. “They might have weapons. It could be a trap of some sort just to draw us out. They could have seen you all invite us inside when we came over. They might be looking for the same sort of help. But they could be far more desperate than we were. They might just kill us to take what we have.”

  “If they had weapons, they probably would have used them to escape their current predicament,” Chris argued.

  “And do what?” Wendell shot back. “Go where? We have weapons, and we haven’t escaped our current predicament.”

  Chris was quiet, realizing that Wendell had a point.

  “Well then,” Christine Franko spoke up, “where does that leave us? I’ll help if we decide to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Michael said sternly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Christine frowned. “I’m just as much a part of this group as anyone else.”

  “True,” Michael nodded, “but you’re also a single parent of two young boys. They need you. And I’m not going to risk you orphaning them.”

  “They’ll never be orphaned as long as there is a Blender left alive,” Christine countered.

  “That’s a wonderful sentiment, and it’s true to a point, but right now, this isn’t something that’s debatable. And we need capable individuals to stay behind and secure the tower. So if we’re going to do this, it should be me, Patrick, Chris, and…”

  “And me,” Charla piped up. “I’ll go.”

  Wendell looked at his wife, surprised. It almost appeared as though he was going to say something, but he stayed quiet.

  Michael also looked somewhat surprised at Charla’s offer of accompanying the group, but nodded. “Okay, four of us ought to be enough. And it won’t leave the tower undefended should, well, should we encounter any problems while we’re over there.”

  “When should we go?” Patrick asked.

  Michael considered the question for a moment and then said, “I guess it should probably be at night. It’d give us better cover. The moon is full, so that could light our way, and once we’re inside, we could use our flashlights. Personally, I’d rather go during the day, but then we’re more exposed.”

  “Tonight then?” Patrick asked, almost eagerly.

  “My schedule is clear,” Chris said.

  “The sooner the better,” Charla nodded.

  “Then tonight it is,” Michael agreed.

  * * *

  The four-person volunteer team of Blenders decided to take just enough food and water in their packs for two days in case they were waylaid. They each took a handgun with extra ammo. And they each carried a flashlight. Michael and Chris also carried a handheld radio for communication both between themselves as well as with the tower. They left enough room inside their packs for additional supplies should they come across them, and they each carried an additional empty pack should they need more room for such supplies. Michael also carried a first-aid kit.

  “You guys ready?” Michael asked the others as he shouldered his pack.

  “I’m good,” Charla nodded.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Chris said.

  “I was born ready,” Patrick grinned.

  “Huh,” his father couldn’t help but snort aloud. “You definitely were not born ready. I was there,” he smiled at his boy. “As I recall in fact, you came out pissing on the world…literally.”

  “Really?” Charla wore a curious grin on her face.

  “But that’s a story for another time,” Michael chuckled.

  The group exchanged hugs and kisses with loved ones. Charla noted that Wendell was somewhat standoffish, not really kissing her back.

  “You okay?” she whispered into his ear as they embraced.

  “Oh yeah. Great…just great. I’m thrilled about watching my wife tramp off into danger with…” he didn’t finish his sentence. He just shook his head with a disappointed look.

  “With what? Chris? Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “What am I supposed to think? You spend all your spare time with him,” he hissed back.

  “Uh, yeah…fishing…for the good of the group. And I’m getting pretty damn good at it. And really? You’re upset about that at a time like this. You could at least be upset that I’m going out, risking my ass. You could at least pretend to care about my wellbeing.”

  “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with an answer,” Wendell exhaled and shook his head sadly. “If you think I’m not worried about that…about you, then…well, I don’t know what else to say.”

  And with that, Charla left Wendell’s side to join the group forming up to depart the tower.

  Michael had ensured that his people had checked and re-checked their packs, their weapons, and themselves, knowing that food and cold-weather wear could prove crucial should they get stuck outside the tower for a lengthy duration.

  His radio beeped and he unclipped it from where it was affixed to his belt. “Go ahead.”

  “Looks clear outside,” Josh, their lookout and sniper for when they covered the short distance from tower to condo building, radioed him.

  “Copy,” Michael nodded into the radio. “We’ll be out in one,” he re-affixed the radio to his belt. “Okay crew,” he said to the other Blenders now clustered around the tower’s main entry barricade. “Remember, just enough room for us to get out. And be ready to move when we come back. We might have biters hot on our tails.”

  The Blenders not accompanying Michael, Charla, Chris, and Patrick hurriedly got to work removing just enough of the entry barricade to create a gap to squeeze through.

  A minute later, the recon mission was underway. Guided only by moonlight, the foursome made their way quickly yet stealthily across the parking lot to Charla and Wendell’s old condo building. They moved unmolested by biters, most of whom had taken shelter against the night’s frigid temperatures. They regrouped just outside the building’s front entrance.

  “Be ready,” Michael reminded them, as if they could be anything but.

  He had armed each of them with a magazine-loaded handgun rather than revolvers in order to increase their firepower while reducing reloading times. Michael also carried a semi-automatic rifle slung around his back on a shoulder strap just in case they encountered a situation in which heavier firepower might come in handy. But everyone – including those watching and providing cover from inside the tower – had been instructed to hold their fire unless absolutely necessary in an effort to avoid drawing biters to the area.

  The entry doors to the condo building were closed but the glass of one had been smashed out. Inside, the foyer was empty, and considering the circumstances, amazingly clean. There was a light l
ayer of dust over everything, and a few leaves had blown inside, but other than that and the lights being out, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

  “Chris, since you know this place the best, you lead,” Michael instructed. “We’ll be right behind you. And be ready for anything.”

  “You don’t have to tell us twice,” Chris said. “I had my closest experience with a biter in here. And it wasn’t fun. Where do you want to start?”

  “Well, one of the signs we saw hanging was on the fourth floor. So I guess we should start there,” Michael said.

  Chris led the team over to a stairwell that began just across from the building’s elevators. Once they were inside the stairwell, he flipped on his flashlight to guide them.

  They crept their way quietly up several darkened flights until they reached the fourth floor. Along the way, Charla noted the stairwell entry doors to access each flight they passed. “Looks like someone finally closed all the doors.”

  The team took this as a good sign, hoping that it meant that the doors would contain any biters, keeping them from reaching the team inside the stairwell. At the same time, though, the closed doors would keep any still-living biters trapped within the building since they wouldn’t be able to operate the doors to escape outside.

  The team paused on the fourth-floor landing, forming up behind Chris. Here, the stairwell door was shut as well.

  “You guys ready?” Chris asked in a hushed whisper.

  “Yes,” came the quiet responses around her.

  Guns were out and drawn. Gun safeties were off. Fingers were on triggers. Breaths were held as Chris reached a hand out tentatively toward the latched door and slowly opened it.