After a couple of weeks had passed, William heard a knock on his door. He opened it with his revolver in his hand. He didn’t think an assailant would knock before attacking, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He was met on the front porch by Gordon Fawcett, an old timer who had bought property not too far from William’s and planned to retire there. Gordon was armed as well, with a shotgun, which he was holding casually under his right arm.
Gordon told William about a meeting they were planning to have to decide what, if anything, to do. It sounded like a good idea, so William accompanied Gordon up the road to the largest lodge in the area, which didn’t surprise William at all. They went to Norman Kellogg’s lodge, which had the best view and easiest access to the water. His pier hadn’t been finished yet, but when it was he would likely have all four of his boats take off from in front of his place.
Norman liked to point out that yes, he was related to the famously wealthy Kellogg family of cereal fame. Most people didn’t much care about his money or his family one way or the other, neither of which impacted their lives at all. There may have been some envy on occasion at all his outdoor toys which he drove around to show everyone. He had the latest snow machines and four-wheelers. His boats had the best GPS tracking systems and the newest performance motors. He had the biggest televisions in the Cove and on and on. For most people, all of that was merely background noise that they could ignore.
Everyone gathered at Norman’s to discuss what to do. Some of the refugees from Whittier pleaded with everyone to stay away from Whittier. There was nothing left back there, they said. Most were inclined to agree so it was decided that The Cove would just sit back and wait. They agreed to keep in touch using their two-way radio system, which was imperfect at best because of the dense trees all around them, but it was better than having to send up smoke signals or tying string and cans between houses. Everyone was to keep his guard up and watch out for one another. The meeting was adjourned with very little being done and virtually nothing being changed.
William invited a handful of folks to come back with him to his lodge. He was all alone otherwise and thought it better if he had some company and some help if something were to happen. He had ample provisions left from the fishing season and space for several. He had a generator and full propane and fuel oil tanks, so he had electricity, heat, and hot water. Not a bad way to wait out the apocalypse.
Sandra, Danielle and Gus all agreed to move in with him. Gus had been cooking over at another lodge but he was the only one left in it and it sat uncomfortably close to Whittier. He grabbed his meager possessions and any remaining foodstuffs from the lodge and moved to William’s. The two women came from Whittier, though both were just visiting and had come from elsewhere. Neither of the ladies had much more than what she was wearing, although Danielle had a backpack to which she clung obsessively.
She explained to William that she was a diabetic and that the last of her medicine was in the backpack. Danielle tried to assuage William’s concerns by assuring him that she only kept the insulin vials, syringes, and other materials for emergencies. She controlled her diabetes through diet and exercise, but there were occasions, oftentimes unpredictable occasions, which necessitated the need for the insulin.
Sandra was originally from California and was on her last few days of vacation to the Last Frontier when everything happened in Whittier. She had been waiting to go on a glacier cruise with her parents and her sister, having moved to Alaska a few months earlier and invited the whole family to come visit her. Sandra was in her final year of graduate school at Stanford and welcomed the break.
They had been eating lunch at a hotel restaurant when the shooting and screaming started. They had just started running, following the throngs of people trying to get away. She didn’t know when she lost her family because she was so focused on getting away herself. When she finally did look around, Sandra realized everyone else she knew was gone. Sobbing, frightened people running and putting distance between themselves and the city center surrounded her, and not a single one of them did she recognize.
A bunch of people stopped at a large apartment complex on the edge of town, but Sandra was talked into a big white truck. She climbed into the back seat and sat, more or less, on Danielle’s lap all the way to Shotgun Cove.
Danielle and Sandra jumped at the chance to move in with William and his sophistication and urbanity, which was more appealing than their original accommodations. Rose and Pete were great people and both Danielle and Sandra owed their lives to that pair of siblings’ generosity, but neither woman ever felt truly comfortable in that lodge. It was a place built for men, without any of the comforts or distractions that might interest a woman. Besides, there were already others staying with Rose and Pete, so having two fewer mouths to feed worked to everyone’s benefit.
And that was how it had been until Danielle came to William to talk about going back into town. She was running desperately low on medicine. She had scraped together a little from other lodge owners and guests still carrying it for loved ones that never escaped the town. When that ran out, Danielle knew that she was going to need some.
Word was sent out that a party was being formed for an excursion back into Whittier. When the morning sky had enough light to comfortably show them the way, the apprehensive but hopeful group departed in two trucks. They headed into a possible storm with little in the way of knowledge or understanding of what lay ahead. They were blind and truly unaware of what had befallen Whittier and the poor souls who didn’t make it out alive. Only Danielle and Sandra had an inkling as to what to expect and neither of them had a firm grasp on it.
Chapter 31
William opened his lodge door and savored the mixed aromas of vanilla and cedar that greeted him. That was how a home was supposed to smell. With all the window shutters downstairs closed tightly, the main floor was dark, though a sliver of light was hovering at the top of the steps leading to the upper level. He leaned over and disarmed the alarm system, which provided a thin veil of security while he was gone. There was no longer a security network to reach out to the police dispatch, but the alarm did still deliver an auditory wallop with its siren and speaker. The alarm was run on a rechargeable battery power source which barely used any energy, but provided peace of mind.
Out of habit, he untied his boots and slipped them off as he entered. There probably was no need for such considerations any longer, but habits were habits. It was an Alaskan custom to remove footwear before entering a home. He set his boots aside and enjoyed the feel of hardwood floors beneath his feet. Despite having socks on, he could feel how cold the floors were. A hearty fire in his stove and soon the cold would be mitigated substantially. He wanted to stall on using his heat too much this early in the season to help the fuel oil last. There was no telling when he could expect to get more of that, if ever. Wood, on the other hand, was in great supply and the stove did a good job of heating on its own. It was only on the darkest, coldest days of winter that the heater was needed.
With Neil, Emma, and Jerry behind him, he wandered into his home, using a flashlight to show the way, though he didn’t need it. He was as familiar with this house as was a bear with his den. He could be completely blind and make his way competently through his home. Nothing was out of place. No one had been there since they departed. Between the cold, the dark from the shuttered windows, and the quiet, the house was more a cave than a home. Even so, it was a familiar cave and one that had promise of comfort.
William was relieved to find his house secure and undisturbed. He trusted his friends and neighbors in Shotgun Cove, but desperation sometimes had a way of changing folks and not for the better. For the time being, it appeared as if his trust had been deserved, and for that he was thankful.
The four of them all set about performing different tasks. William built and stoked a fire in the stove while Neil carried in more wood. Jerry and Emma walked back down to the water’s edge to row back out to Serenity to get the other
s.
When Jerry and Emma pulled up to the fishing boat, they were met with some very eager and curious faces. Danny asked about Neil while everyone else asked about the lodge.
Emma said warmly, “It’s nice.”
Danielle agreed. “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived. For a shelter in the apocalypse, you couldn’t ask for a better spot.”
Jess hesitated a bit. She couldn’t help but think about Sydney. Syd was safe and away from all the chaos. Bob promised to keep her safe and Jess trusted him to do just that. It was for that reason that Jess was feeling more hope at that moment than she had in quite some time.
Serenity was Jess’ best chance to find Syd and Bob. Jess was comfortable at sea but she wouldn’t consider herself a sea dog by any stretch of the imagination. She didn’t think she was capable of setting out to sea by herself, so for the moment the nice boat would remain merely an option.
It was a nice boat too. The one on which she, Bob, and Syd would fish was purely functional, with no frills. It was a nice boat, but Serenity was a thing of beauty. Its brass railings and hints of polished oak gave it a sense of class and comfort not common to a lot of boats her size. The seats were all cushioned beneath either leather or high-grade faux leather, she couldn’t tell for sure, and the walls were solid. It was nice to be able to watch the sour sea weather and not have to endure it.
As she thought, wondered, and remembered, Jess was wracked with bittersweet emotion, full of fond memories and painful regrets. With tearful eyes, Jess looked around at the boat and thought that Syd would really enjoy going fishing aboard the Serenity. Who wouldn’t?
With enough fuel or places to get it, Serenity could take them anywhere. She could take Jess, Syd, Neil, and all of the rest of them away from the hell the world had become.
Fuel was the biggest challenge. Serenity wasn’t rigged or meant for sailing, so she relied on her engine to drive her and it required gasoline. Logistics. That’s what Bob would always say. She patted the soft chair in which she had been sitting and walked over to the end of the boat. Jess was the last to climb down into the waiting boat below.
The trip across the water and then up the footpath to the lodge was cold and damp. They had been spoiled sitting in the heated cabin aboard Serenity and now paid the price. Their cheeks felt chapped and stiff from the crisp air and their lungs protested with each deep, chilling breath.
Finally arriving at the lodge, they poured themselves in through the front door and immediately crowded themselves around the stove radiating heat and comfort, bathing themselves in the warmth.
Neil was excited to see all of them and savored the moment. William wanted to check on his friend Gordon and get any recent news. The two men hefted their assault rifles over their shoulders and bid quick farewells to the recent arrivals. Neil assured them all that they would both be back in no time at all.
Chapter 32
Gordon answered his door without opening it. Despite not seeing his eyes, William could sense that Gordon was exhausted. His voice was deep and slow from lack of sleep.
“Gordon, it’s me, William. We’re back.”
From behind the door, an incredulous voice fired back, “William? But you’re dead. How can I trust you?”
“Danielle and I made it out, Gordon. Did anyone else make it back here?” William figured someone had to have made it back for Gordon to know what had befallen the rest of the group.
From overhead, the window on the second floor which overlooked the front door opened and Betsy, Gordon’s wife, appearing a decade or so younger than Gordon, leaned out. She eyed William and then the other man with him. She asked bluntly, “What do you want?”
William stepped back from the front of the house and slung the AK 47 assault rifle over his shoulder, trying to appear unthreatening. “Betsy, we just got back. We want to know what’s goin’ on here. Has something happened?”
The front door opened then and Gordon stepped onto his porch. He was willing to talk but he still held his shotgun across his body. “Who’s this?”
William followed Gordon’s gaze to Neil. “This man is named Neil and if he hadn’t come along, I’d still be in Whittier and probably would be dead.”
Gordon mulled that over for a few seconds silently. He didn’t own a lodge for a reason. Gordon wasn’t one to get close to strangers too quickly. He had come to Shotgun Cove for the peace and the isolation. Having met and grown fond of William was a bit of an accident and completely out of character for Gordon.
His old blue eyes, milky but alert, looked at each of the men and then stood aside to allow them into his home.
Once inside, the three men sat at the dining room table to talk. Neil and William set their rifles next to the door as they entered, following Gordon’s lead. Gordon’s house had hardwood floors, though his house was far less substantial than William’s. The furnishings were comfortable looking but sparse. There was no television in either the main room or a secondary room off to the right. There were, however, shelves and shelves full of books of all varieties, from nature photography, to historical biographies, to classic novels. Most of the volumes were worn with age and use. On a table next to a chair, an opened biography of Theodore Roosevelt, its cover frayed and yellowed, lay on its face awaiting its reader’s return.
Betsy brought them hot coffee and some muffins she had baked. Neil sipped the coffee in quiet revelry and nibbled on a muffin while William and Gordon spoke with one another.
“What happened?” William asked.
Gordon breathed in deeply and then let out a labored sigh. “A few hours after your group left for Whittier, Nakissha came running back. She was screaming and half crazed they told me. Not too far behind her were a few others, but they weren’t… right. They were all stiff and awkward. It was obvious to everyone that Nakissha was running away from those folks. They didn’t move very fast, but those other folks kept up with her. They followed her all the way back I guess.
“There were some people over at Norman’s, like always. Nakissha ran right up onto the porch, screaming and crying. She was bleeding too. She said that she had been bitten. Can you believe that? One of those people bit her. What kind of people do that?”
Gordon paused to consider his own question but couldn’t come up with an answer himself. “Nakissha was just getting calmed down when those folks following her showed up. I wasn’t there, but other folks who have told me about it since said that they were like walking death or something. Someone even said they looked like they were decaying, like corpses or something that forgot to lie down and die. I don’t know how they acted, but I do know what they looked like afterward.
“When Nakissha started to scream again, Norman and his friends started shooting those other people, but...”
“But the bullets didn’t kill them. Did they?” Neil interjected.
Gordon nodded. After several seconds and a couple of drinks from his own coffee mug, the older man said, “William, their bodies were torn apart by bullets but they didn’t die. I saw them afterward. They had holes all over them. One of them had his arm blown clean off by a shotgun. It wasn’t until someone shot one of them in the head that they figured out how to put them down. By then, two of Norman’s guests had gotten attacked.”
Concerned for his neighbors, William asked, “Who?”
“Charlie Hackett and that young fella named Jeremy that worked for Norman.”
“What do you mean by attacked?” Neil asked with concern. “Were they bitten?”
Gordon shrugged. “I guess so but I don’t know for sure. They were being treated when I showed up. I heard the shooting and went over there to see what was happening. By the time I got there, it was over.”
“Where are they now?” Neil asked quickly. “The three people who got bit?”
“Probably still over at Norman’s.”
Neil got up from the table, grabbed his M4 and said, “We need to get over to Norman’s place before it’s too late.”
Ch
arlie looked at William and asked, “Too late for what?”
There wasn’t time for explanations. William stood as well. “He’s right. We need to get over there right now.”
The urgency in both of the men’s voices pushed Gordon to his feet. He didn’t know what was happening, but he did recognize that William’s typical calm had been supplanted by his concern.
“Gordon, you should stay here with Betsy,” William said. “Bolt your door and keep an eye out from the upstairs windows.”
“Don’t think you men are going to keep me here,” Gordon objected. “I’m coming with you.”
Gordon was already on his feet and was putting his baseball cap back on his head. He lifted his shotgun and held the door open for the others. He said over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, dear. We’re going over to Norman’s for a bit.”
Betsy had heard all of the talk from the kitchen and it showed in her eyes when she watched her husband leave. “Just don’t be too late or your food will get cold. Will you other gentlemen be joining us for dinner?”
Betsy’s attempt at finding some normalcy in the situation went unanswered as the door was closed heavily behind the men. She flew to the door and bolted it shut behind them. She wasn’t easily scared or worried, but she couldn’t deny the rising fear in her chest.
She retreated to a back room where her fused glass worktable, tools, and kiln awaited her. She was in the process of completing another custom order placed by a business in Seward as if there was any possibility of delivering it. The piece, one full of blues and a splash of black representing a whale’s fluke, was beautiful and had kept her attention for quite some time. She was thankful for the distraction and for having ample supplies with which to work.
She would stay there until her husband returned and hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 18