To be certain, they had lost people along the way and Neil always dished out for himself the most substantial portions of blame even when he should have been acquitted of any negligence. The chaotic few months flashed through Jerry’s mind as a series of snapshots...people, homes, cars, darkness, hope, and loss.
A vision of his love Claire as she lay lifeless and butchered on a classroom lab table tormented him. Whose fault had that been? Was Neil or Jerry to blame? Or someone else entirely? He wished he had an answer for that question. If he could lay blame at someone’s feet, then maybe he could start to get past all of his anger and his grief.
The bastard responsible for the horrific things to his ladylove was dead and forgotten, having been left on the impersonal Skyview High School floor. Jerry had a hard time accepting that circumstance as a reasonable resolution to his pain. It just didn’t feel like it was enough that he was dead. Jerry wanted him to suffer the same agony and torturous end that Claire faced...alone. That, perhaps, was the thought that affected Jerry the most.
He couldn’t deny his resentment of Neil for not allowing him to stay behind with Claire, but at the same time he understood how unrealistic that was. Claire was dead and Neil needed Jerry’s help to ensure no one else was lost. He understood it but he still harbored some anger toward Neil for making him leave her. It was irrational and unjustified, but it was still there in the back of his thoughts.
All of that was exorcized out of his mind when, three people emerged from out of the woods, two of them helping the third walk. Jerry realized it was Emma and Jess carrying Neil, who appeared to be injured and barely able to walk unaided.
Where was William? What had happened to Neil?
Jerry hopped up from his chair and leaned his head into the doorway. “They’re back!” he shouted. “Someone go let them in. Danny, get your rifle ready and meet them at the door. Watch their backs. I’ll watch from up here.”
From the top of the stairs and just inside the door leading to the veranda, Jerry listened to the activity below while Emma and Jess helped Neil back into the lodge. He heard the story; how they had made it onto the cruise ship and found it absolutely festering with the undead. Jess recounted the moment when William shot Neil and how William simply vanished from sight.
Jerry’s chest tickled and tingled, imagining how it must have felt to be shot. Allowing his medical training to kick in, Jerry examined Neil’s wound, pressing a towel against it tightly to staunch the bleeding. He needed someone to get back to the lookout post to make certain the three of them hadn’t been followed. “Abdul and Danny, get upstairs and watch for any zekes. Make sure we’re clear.” Both of them headed back up to the veranda.
Neil smiled at Jerry when the younger man led him into the living room and said calmly, “It looks a hell of a lot worse than it actually is,” Neil said. “It went straight through.” Neil’s voice sounded slightly winded, as if he had been exercising vigorously.
Jerry was relieved to hear the man’s voice and to confirm that it wasn’t a voice racked with pain or weakness. It just sounded like Neil and that was all Jerry needed to hear to know that things were all right in the world.
Jerry nodded to his friend and then said to everyone, “It looks like it’s just tissue damage. It’s gonna hurt like hell for a while, but if we can prevent any infection, this shouldn’t be life threatening.”
Chapter 67
Colonel Bear looked out into the darkness. He couldn’t see it through the darkness and snowy skies but he knew that the mammoth cruise ship was bobbing on the restless Prince William Sound. He finished his drink while he stared into the gloom and imagined his next move and all the possibilities it might yield.
When Carter told him about the people he saw board the ship, the Colonel’s intuition told him immediately that it was the people for whom he was looking. Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter because anyone would do. The fact that Carter may have recognized one of them helped the Colonel to really believe.
Knowing they were out there was important to him, but the ability to show to everyone in his militia that he knew what he was doing in finding them was important to those he led. He needed them to trust him as much as they feared him. It was a subtle combination of the two which allowed him to assemble his army around him. Fear wasn’t enough over the long haul, but trust would keep all of them around. If they could trust him to find them food and avenge their deaths as in the case of his lieutenant Sullivan, then he’d always have his troops.
The Colonel had feared they had lost the scent of their quarry when they came into Whittier, but he had seen other opportunities. Whittier could be their fortress...their city-state from which they could build anew. Whittier could be their impregnable castle with its own natural defensive wall and ample sources of food and fresh water. It was better than the Colonel could have imagined and it was all theirs, or at least it would be after some minor...housekeeping.
They needed to eliminate the threat of the skins still lurking in the city and then track down the other people threatening his and his militia’s claim to their new home. He had feared this second priority would prove unduly elusive until by lucky happenstance fate once again had favored the Colonel.
A young militiaman named Mason patrolling along the shoreline on the opposite side of the Inn saw what he thought was a body on the rocky shore. It was one that hadn’t been there the other times during which he had patrolled the same area.
When he approached the lifeless body, it moved slightly but in a more human manner than did zekes. He was pulling himself out of the water. His dark skin was human and lacked the ashen color to which all zeke skin tones faded. He was alive but, by the look of it, barely.
Mason approached him apprehensively; concerned that perhaps the water could have done something to one of the monsters to help make it appear human. When the large black man built like a running back finally spoke, Mason confirmed what he already knew: the man was still alive and needed Mason’s help.
The man said, “Princess. I’m trying.”
Mason slung his rifle over his shoulder and hopped between a series of huge rounded rocks to the man. He could feel the deep cold that had beset the man’s skin. “C’mon, buddy,” Mason coaxed. “For your Princess. Push yourself.”
A few moments later the two men were up out of the water and off of the treacherous rocks. Mason knew that he needed help in order to get the man in the Inn, so he ran into the fortified building in search of assistance.
Carter heard the excited young man making his announcement about having found a man washed up on the rocks. He ordered four men to help Mason move the man into one of the unused bedrooms upstairs, which they set about doing while Carter went to find the Colonel.
Colonel Bear received the news with all the enthusiasm of a dog being given table scraps. He devoured the information hungrily and then basked in the satisfaction of the moment. Carter thought the Colonel acted as happy as a child on his birthday. He was almost giddy.
When the big black man, shivering and barely conscious, was more or less carried into the inn, Colonel Bear and Carter met him in the lobby. The Colonel fired a barrage of questions at the man, wanting to know from where the man had come and with whom.
His eyes weak and scared, the mountain of a man looked around at all the faces staring back at him. Most of the eyes in the crowd were curious, if not a little empathetic. There were a few glazed with fear and fewer still burning with angry emotion.
The man uttered, to all of their astonishment, “I know...I know who...you are. Why...are you...here?”
Colonel Bear leaned in wearing his serpent’s grin and hissed, “If you know who we are, then you sure as hell know why we’re here.”
The black man lowered his head, resting his chin on his chest. He allowed a long, deep breath to escape from his mouth and partially clogged nose and then he went limp. The Colonel ordered him carried to the room and shackled to the bed. There would be a guard on him at all times.
Carter raised his hand. “Let me have a talk with him first. Shackle him to the bed. I’ll be up there straight away so we can have our...talk.”
Chapter 68
Neil’s shoulder hurt like hell, but he felt very lucky. The bullet had gone straight through his shoulder, not hitting any vital organs, and really causing tissue damage. In a football accident when he was younger, he had broken his clavicle and dislocated his shoulder. That had seemed much worse. Once the bleeding was stanched and those terrible first minutes of trauma control had passed, Neil felt like the worst of it was behind him.
His left arm sent waves of pain through his nerves when Neil so much as thought about that side of his body. He couldn’t lift the arm or even hold it still, so Emma fashioned a sling from a tablecloth she found in the galley on Serenity.
Back at William’s lodge, he found himself lying on his back once again on the same couch to which he had retreated before the plan had been hatched to explore the cruise ship. He had been given a high dose of Tylenol with codeine for his pain and a fistful of Ibuprofen to control the inflammation. He was feeling fairly euphoric and even a touch philosophical in his random thoughts. He could hardly feel the ice pack pressed tightly against his wound with an Ace bandage, though the cold crawled deeper and deeper into his chest. He lay there staring at the patterns on the ceiling, thinking to himself that a lot had happened since he had last been on the couch.
Never in a million years could Neil have imagined getting shot, much less surviving it. And William; Neil couldn’t stop thinking about him and the look in the man’s eyes after he pulled the trigger. Neil didn’t remember William taking the entire hunting pack of zekes with him over the railing; he didn’t remember much after the bullet punched the hole through him. That moment reverberated through his mind like a self-perpetuating echo.
A little voice from the floor startled Neil. He’d forgotten that Jules had come into the room with him. She was sitting on the large, colorful rug in the middle of the hardwood floors and playing with the doll William had given her.
Neil hadn’t heard her question, so Jules repeated it. “Do we have to leave here soon?”
“Why do you ask that, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. Every time we get somewhere, we can only stay for a bit and then we go find somewhere else. That’s just how it is. That’s what Danny said.” She repeated, trying to mimic Danny’s voice, “That’s just how it is.”
Neil invited her to join him on the couch. Adjusting the way that he was positioned caused him a little pain, but it passed quickly enough. “What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know. We have been here for a long time though.”
“No, it’s only been a few days. That’s not long at all.”
Jules shook her head and sat her doll down on the couch next to her. “That’s in old time. We’re in new time now.”
“New time?”
“Yeah. Time doesn’t work the same anymore...that’s why we don’t need clocks and watches. We don’t have seconds or minutes anymore. They’re too short. Everything comes in days now. A whole day is a long time, especially if you’re awake for most of it. Every day is special. That’s what Meghan used to tell me.”
“She used to tell me the same thing, and she was a smart lady, wasn’t she?”
“I miss her,” Jules said.
“Me too.”
“If a day is a long time and we’ve been here for a few days, then we’ve been here for a really long time. We don’t usually stay at places for long times anymore, so I just wondered if we would be leaving again soon.”
Neil hugged the little girl to his chest. “I’d like to stay here as long as we can. What do you think?”
Jules nodded and hugged Neil back. She whispered into his ear, “I’m glad you’re back and I’m glad we’re with you.”
Neil kept hugging her to hide the tears in his eyes from her view. “Me too, Jules. Me too.”
Sometime later, he fell into a deep sleep which was only partially drug-induced but was desperately needed either way. It was dark and his body wanted to sleep, so he followed its cue and drifted off.
While Neil slept, Emma, Jess, Danielle, and Mia discussed what they should do. The woods were teeming with the undead, which made movement out of the lodge difficult. Fortunately, the lodge was well stocked, had a reliable source of water and heat, and was built solidly. They could weather a siege of limited proportions but they needed to know their options. They needed to be thinking about their next step. They needed to be thinking and acting like Neil and all of them knew that.
They cleaned and cared for their weapons, reloaded bullets into spent magazines for future use, and set them around the lodge in positions for easy access. Some of them slept while Emma relieved Jerry from his perch for a bit.
Jerry was grateful for the break, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to face everyone. He felt fully responsible for Betsy’s and Nikki’s deaths. In his mind, he had let them all down by allowing Nikki to be unsupervised long enough to make her fatal decision. Jerry had failed everyone and fully expected to be met with accusatory eyes.
To his surprise, when he appeared in the kitchen he was only met with a pair of tired smiles and a cup of coffee. Danielle ordered Jerry to get some rest and let the women take charge for a bit. He consented.
The rest of the night was quiet and uneventful. Danny helped both Emma and Jerry keep watch at different times during the night. Jules spent all night cuddled up with Neil under a warm blanket.
Nothing but the snow stirred outside and it fell steadily through the darkness. The snow fell like sifted flour and accumulated at a slow, consistent rate until morning.
Chapter 69
Carter exited the room looking very satisfied. He had gotten the information the Colonel sought and had also confirmed that the people responsible for the attack on their home were near. It didn’t require much convincing at all. The fact that the man named William was burning with fever made Carter’s job very easy. It was a wonder he hadn’t died when he jumped from the ship and it was very fortunate for all of them that he had survived. He was their missing key to deciphering the puzzle.
It was at darkest night and probably not a good time to be going out after anyone. Besides, they weren’t going anywhere. Those bastards didn’t even know that the Colonel had tracked them to their little nest. Carter had to admit quite a boost in his respect for the Colonel.
On his way downstairs where the Colonel was waiting for him, Carter wondered what he was going to do with William. Maybe they wouldn’t have to kill him. There was always the chance that the guy could be turned. Maybe he could be made to feel abandoned and betrayed by the others for leaving him behind. They didn’t even look for him. Carter could already see the script playing out in his mind.
At present, he and the Colonel needed to have a war council. There was a looming battle forming in front of them and they had both superior firepower and the element of surprise in their favor. Carter could be ready to go in a flash. He tended to travel pretty light and he was ready to kick some ass.
He found the Colonel staring out the window into the dark. Carter walked over to the table and poured a drink for himself into the glass he had left on the table following dinner. Colonel Bear turned on his heels, his enormous belly building its own momentum, and greeted Carter with a stony smile. Carter tipped his glass in the Colonel’s direction and fired back his own devilish grin.
Colonel Bear said, “I believe it is time to pull in the rearguard. We will need all of our strength for the coming engagement.”
Carter emptied his glass, nodded eagerly, and stepped out of the spacious dining room.
Colonel Bear’s thoughts became even darker. They wouldn’t have to dispatch anyone to call back the rearguard if they still had their communication equipment. Unfortunately, that had all been lost in the fire at Skyview. One more thing for which to condemn those people once he and his men had finally cau
ght up with them.
The Colonel was looking forward to the approaching confrontation. This would be the battle for which he had waited and hoped his entire life. He would be able to right a wrong and deliver some swift and righteous justice.
He wouldn’t rush into things. He would take his time and do it right. They could wait for first light and then go. He would let his troops rest a little tonight. Maybe he would allow them all a few drinks to set the mood right for tomorrow. He and Carter would make an announcement and get them all riled up. Tomorrow...tomorrow they would have their war and their vengeance.
Meanwhile, Mason sat in the room with the delirious man named William he had unknowingly pulled from the frying pan and tossed in the fire. The man was shackled to his bed, as weak as he was big. He shivered and quaked with fever, his bones chilled to the marrow by the cold water of the Prince William Sound.
Once Carter had left and the door was shut, Mason launched into caretaker mode. He gave William water and covered him with more blankets. He didn’t know what else to do, but he felt obligated to do something. It was his fault that William had endured Carter’s unkind attention.
Carter had slapped the man and threatened him and his friends with much worse. Carter also promised the man peace and friendship if he told him where his friends had gone. His grip on reality no more firm than his grip on consciousness, William eventually told Carter what he needed to know.
Mason was thankful it hadn’t gotten any worse than what he had seen. He didn’t think he would be able to sit and watch Carter torture the man, which made Mason worry about what would happen to him as a result. Would Carter punish Mason for his perceived weakness?
Mason made up his mind that he would help the man if the opportunity presented itself. He wasn’t certain how far he could take it, but he knew he had to try. There had been other opportunities in the past— both before and after the rise of the dead— in which he had been presented an opportunity to do what was right but he had not. The most recent regret he had added to his tally was losing young Frances and Ethan in the forest during those early days of the apocalypse. He had sworn to protect them, but he had failed miserably. He had never been certain what fate had befallen them, but the little girl, Frances, had been bitten. He knew well what likely became of her but he was always tormented by the possibilities concerning Ethan. Had he fallen victim to his own sister after she turned? Were they slowed down enough due to Frances’ grievous wound that both of them were hunted down and devoured by the predatory undead? Regardless of the circumstances of their end, Mason was fairly certain that it hadn’t gone well for them.
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 38