The Last Bastion (Book 2): The Last Bastion

by Callahan, K. W.

  * * *

  The next morning, little had changed in the situation in and around the Village of Lyons. About a mile from Hofmann Tower, in their abandoned house, the Hines family had suffered through the night as best they could. While the kids had managed a few hours of restless sleep, it didn’t seem to have had much effect. They were all cranky and irritable upon waking.

  “I’m hungry!” little Rebecca wailed.

  “Me too,” Sarah whined.

  “I know, I know. Just be patient,” their mother tried to placate them as she sat among her brood on the bed. “Let’s see what we have here,” she rummaged in the backpack that she had instructed Anthony to don before abandoning their vehicle.

  Moments later, she was passing around granola bars to feed the hungry children.

  “I want chocolate milk!” cried Rebecca.

  “Here, have some water,” Victoria offered.

  “I don’t want water. I want chocolate milk!” Rebecca pushed the bottle away violently.

  “Well it’s all we have,” her mother countered.

  “And you’ll be glad we have it if we’re forced to stay here,” Monte told his youngest daughter. “You all had better make whatever is in that bag count. No telling when we’ll be getting more supplies.”

  “Speaking of which,” Victoria turned from her feeding duties, “have you thought about what our next move should be?”

  Monte stood beside the bed, twisting, turning, and stretching as he did his best to work out some of the kinks from one of the worst night’s sleep he’d ever had. Upon waking, his limbs were like boards. His back ached. His neck was nearly immobile. He cautiously rolled his head around, moving it side-to-side, hearing it pop and crack as he did so.

  Feeling slightly better, Monte walked over to where he’d set his gun on a windowsill beside the bed. There, he counted his remaining bullets. He had five rounds chambered in the gun. There were an additional 12 rounds in the box that he had brought with him.

  “Well,” Monte breathed heavily as the kids munched hungrily on their granola bars, “the way I see it, we have three options. We can hold out here for a while and hope things get better. Although after what we saw last night, I’m not counting on that happening. We can try to make it back to the others, but we don’t even know where they are or…well, not to be a downer, but whether they are.”

  Victoria nodded glumly as she listened.

  “Or, and I think this would probably be our best bet, we try to make it back home.”

  “Really?” Victoria sounded surprised. “You think that would be better than trying to get back to the group?”

  Monte shrugged. “We don’t have any idea if the group is even still at the bridge. They might have continued on the trip without us, thinking we were done for. Or they might have just turned around and gone home too after seeing what happened to the Mendozas.”

  “What did happen to the Mendozas, Dad?” Anthony asked curiously, dropping a piece of granola bar on the bed and then picking it up and popping it quickly into his mouth.

  “Yeah, what happened to the Mendozas?” Patricia chimed in.

  “They…well, they…uh, they had a car accident.”

  “Are they okay?” Anthony asked.

  Monte really didn’t want to get into the Mendozas’ likely demise. It wouldn’t do any good, and he figured it would probably just make the older kids sad and the younger ones scared.

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Monte dismissed their questions and turned his attention back to the co-decision maker of the family. “I’m afraid that if we walk back to the bridge, which is gone now anyway, we’ll only find a bunch of biters, no Blenders. Then we’ll be stuck coming back this way anyway to get home. With the bridge blown, we’re faced with either fording the river, which would leave us all hypothermic in just minutes, or cutting through the forest path at the end of this street and taking the suspension bridge across the river…if the suspension bridge is still there,” he added.

  “That’s right,” Victoria nodded. “That bridge connects the end of the path with Riverside, just down from the village hall and library, right?”

  “Right,” Monte nodded. “From there, we could cut through Riverside to get back home. Our house is probably only three or four miles from here at most. And I think that route would be the safest for us to attempt. Otherwise, we’d have to go back through Lyons and the most populated portion of Brookfield. And I don’t think we want to be doing that right now.”

  Victoria took a deep breath, considering. Finally she nodded, “I guess going home is our best bet. And the sooner, the better in my opinion. I don’t think anyone is going to be coming to save the day anytime soon. We don’t have the supplies for the six of us to hold out here more than a day or so at most. There’s no running water in this place, no heat, and this pack was only meant as snacks for the kids to get us on our four hour trip out to the country, not to sustain the six of us for days on end.”

  “Well then, I guess our decision is made,” Monte said. “And I’d agree, the sooner we get moving, the better. If we can make good time, we could potentially make it home by late morning, maybe even sooner.”

  “Kids, finish your granola bars,” Victoria said. “I don’t want any complaining. We’re going to have a long walk ahead of us, and I want you to have energy. It could be very dangerous out there, and I don’t want to have to stop every five minutes for snacks. This is no joke.”

  She rummaged in the backpack for some other treats – fruit snacks, pretzels, some peanuts, more granola bars, and several bottles of water and juice boxes. She laid the spread out on the bed. “Eat up,” she instructed. “You too,” she tossed Monte a granola bar and a bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” he caught the items and smiled at his strong yet nurturing wife.

  “After we’re done eating,” Victoria said, “I want everyone to hit the potty. We won’t have time to stop for pee breaks later, so don’t drink too much water…especially you Rebecca.”

  “Okay, Mommy,” Rebecca nodded obediently.

  Victoria knew better than to believe the devilishly cute, yet consistently unpredictable five-year-old.

  Half an hour later, the family had finished eating, used the bathroom, and gotten all their shoes and coats on and zipped against the blustery winter weather outside.

  “You ready for this?” Monte asked Victoria as he checked his gun one last time before slipping it inside his coat pocket, ensuring that it was easily removable this time.

  “No. Are you?”

  Monte shrugged. “I just want to be home. I never really wanted to leave in the first place. I just felt pressured by the rest of the group. Now, here we are.”

  “Here we are,” Victoria nodded her agreement.

  “If we can just get home, we’re going to lock our doors, hunker down, take hot showers if the natural gas and water services are still running, and all climb into bed…our own beds.”

  “Damn straight,” Victoria smiled, kissing her husband.

  “Okay everybody,” Monte addressed his family. “I want you to stay close and keep your eyes and ears open. I’ll lead. Your mother will bring up the rear. If any of you see or hear anything, you make it known. We have a long walk ahead of us. I need you to be on your very best behavior. I don’t want to scare you, but there are biters out there, and we have to be ready. Daddy might have to use the gun, like last night. Whatever you do, stay with us. Don’t run away or do something silly. Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe. Also, no breaks until we get home. It’s a long trip, but once we’re home, we can relax, get warm, eat, take naps, go pee-pee, poo-poo, or whatever. Does everyone understand?”

  There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the children.

  “Everyone’s shoelaces tied?”

  There were more nods.

  “Anyone need to go potty one last time?”

  The kids shook their heads.

  “Okay, keep coats zipped, hats on, hoods up,
gloves on for those of you that have them, and hands in pockets for those of you who don’t.”

  Monte looked at Victoria. “Anything I’m forgetting?” he asked.

  “I think you’ve covered it, Captain America,” Victoria smiled at him.

  “All right then,” Monte zipped his own coat. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 9

  Cheryl – or the biter who had been known as Cheryl in her former life – was feeling better, but not much. The injuries she’d suffered smashing her way out of the box in which she’d become entrapped the previous evening still hurt. Thankfully, they weren’t bleeding. The cold night air had quickly coagulated the blood seeking to escape the cuts on her hands. That was about the only positive of the wintry weather. Otherwise, the cold temperatures made for miserable living and sleeping conditions outside.

  After Cheryl had bedded down in the gully beside the train tracks, it hadn’t been long before she’d found herself shivering wildly. Even out of the wind, and having found some boxes to hunker beneath, it’d been too cold to sleep.

  Once Cheryl had given up any attempts at rest, she’d gotten up and walked along the train tracks (although she had no idea that’s what they were). To Cheryl, the tracks simply looked like an obstacle-free path that would be easy to walk and might lead her to food. Along her journey, she’d come across a small, furry creature that she’d managed to catch and consume. It tasted bad – not like human meat – but it filled her belly and provided her with the caloric intake necessary for her to continue the hunt for fresh flesh.

  She’d walked the path of stone and steel in near darkness for what felt like hours. She had been guided only by a cloud-covered moon that revealed itself in occasional glimpses like a sultry fan dancer teasing her audience.

  Cheryl felt a strange combination of both fear and freedom as she walked. She wished she was still with the group of those similar to her that she’d roamed with earlier. Without them, she felt alone, frightened, and unsure of what to do next. Yet, at the same time, she felt unencumbered and free to do whatever she wanted, not having to follow the herd. It was almost the childlike sensation of not having a parent around to guide her. There was the newfound freedom to do as she pleased, yet fear because she still wasn’t quite sure how to function and care for herself in this strange and dangerous world.

  One thing was for certain, she had to keep moving or risk freezing to death in the frigid temperatures. She had an intense desire to find shelter, but after her experience in the large box, she was fearful of re-attempting entry into such a location.

  Near dawn, Cheryl saw several of the odd beasts that rolled down the paved paths rumble by her. They were larger than most such beasts she had seen, their large round eyes glowing brightly as they approached. The beasts were colors that blended them with the foliage. And as they rumbled past, she saw that they were filled with the same creatures she was hunting. But these creatures were dead, clothed in outfits patterned and colored similarly to that of the beasts in which they rode. Beside them were stacks of the shiny black objects that exploded loudly and had killed several in the herd she’d traveled with yesterday. She wondered how the large beasts that rolled past had been so lucky to have consumed so many of the creatures. Their bellies looked full to bursting, and she envied the beasts for their good fortune. She wished she could have just one of those creatures for herself. It would fill her empty belly so satisfyingly. But the large beasts carrying the creatures moved far too quickly for her to catch. She feared catching one anyway. Such a beast, though far smaller than the ones that rumbled past, had attacked her herd, killing several and injuring more, including Cheryl herself.

  Therefore, Cheryl continued her wandering down the tracks. The tracks were somewhat isolated in this area, which while bad for hunting, made Cheryl feel safer and more secure. Her instincts told her that the same sumptuous creatures that she craved to feed on were also extremely dangerous. They had any number of ways to harm those like her, and she knew she had to exercise extreme caution when she encountered them. The creatures were often faster, more agile, and far smarter, sometimes harnessing the power of the large beasts that she had seen earlier and riding inside them. They could also easily enter and exit the boxes in which they often took shelter, hiding inside to stay safe from those like her. It wasn’t fair. But if they didn’t have their beasts to ride in, if they didn’t have their explosive devices that shot hot bits of metal into soft flesh, if they didn’t have their boxes to hide in, well, that was when those like Cheryl often had the advantage. Those like Cheryl were hunters, and their razor sharp teeth, and the energy and vigor with which they attacked, often allowed them to overpower their prey.

  After another hour, as dawn began to break and the sky grew light, Cheryl came to a spot with larger boxes. This gave her hope that she might find food among those boxes. Her path of steel and stone led her to a structure that looked vaguely familiar. Scenes of people entering and exiting a long, silver serpentine creature that slid along the same path she was walking flashed through her mind. She couldn’t make sense of the images, but they were there nonetheless. She seemed to remember once riding inside that same serpent herself, but the memories were distant, faded, and meaningless. She saw a sign beside the structure. The sign had characters written on it, characters that Cheryl also recognized but again, couldn’t form anything meaningful from. The characters read: R-I-V-E-R-S-I-D-E. Then there was a space and more characters that read: S-T-A-T-I-O-N.

  Cheryl just stared at these characters for a long moment, feeling something akin to déjà vu. But she wasn’t able to string together the fragments of memories filtering through her mind. Nor could she decipher where these memories had come from or what they meant.

  And so, she began walking again. But she hadn’t made it far when she saw someone else on the path of steel and stone ahead of her. He was walking toward her.

  The two approached cautiously at first, less so once they both realized that one was like the other. They stopped just feet apart, wordlessly sensing, inspecting, smelling.

  Cheryl looked at the dark-skinned male. He wasn’t necessarily a large male, but he carried himself with certain poise, a kind of self-assurance. There was knowledge, power, confidence, strength.

  The male wore a heavy blue fabric, a portion of which on his chest area was adorned with more characters. These characters read: V-I-C-T-O-R.

  Again, the characters made no sense to Cheryl, but it didn’t matter. This male seemed to take an interest in her, and she in him. His confidence appealed to her, and she sensed that he could be helpful, a mentor. He might even provide her with a meal or help her catch one. Cheryl moved past the male, moving down the path again, hoping he would follow.

  The male stood for a moment, then turned to watch Cheryl. She could sense his eyes on her. A few seconds later, she could hear him walking again, but his direction had changed. He was walking with Cheryl.

  Cheryl liked this. She sensed that this male could be helpful. And after the long night, it felt somewhat good not to be alone. Maybe the male could teach her better how to survive in this new world.

  As they walked, there was a distant rumble and a glaring light down the path ahead of them. Cheryl didn’t know quite what to make of it.

  The rumble grew louder and the light brighter. It confused Cheryl. A small object appeared to be attached to the light far down the path ahead of them. It wasn’t anything to fear, though – just an insect-sized thing with a single, round, bright yellow eye.

  But as the object grew near, it also grew in size. And its distant rumble grew louder as well, the light of its single eye brighter.

  Suddenly the object was close – too close! It was roaring toward Cheryl and she felt immobile, frozen in place, terrified by the massive steel beast barreling toward her. It let out a huge blasting roar as it approached that locked Cheryl in place. She wanted to move. She was telling her legs to take her off the path that the beast was using to charge toward her, but
it was useless, they wouldn’t respond.

  Cheryl felt pressure on her arm. It was the male who had followed her. He pulled her off the path just as a massive and lengthy beast rumbled past at tremendous speed. Cheryl stumbled and fell as he pulled her, drawing herself up into the fetal position and covering her head to protect it from the roaring creature that stretched massive and snakelike along the path. It kept going and going, rumbling along on giant round rolling feet.

  The dark male in blue fabric knelt beside Cheryl, touching her lightly. And while the roaring of the beast nearby continued to terrify her, the imperturbable male’s touch seemed to indicate that it would be okay.

  And it was.

  The roaring beast finally past without harming either of them.

  The male helped Cheryl to her feet, shivering and still frightened, and led her back toward the path of stone and steel. At first, she resisted, fearing the massive serpentine beast might return. But finally, she relented at the male’s urging. His touch told her it was okay.

  Somehow, this male knew things, things that Cheryl had no comprehension of. She decided right then and there that she would stay with this male. He was a good leader, better than those who formed the last herd with which she’d traveled. She felt safe with him. Now, if only he would help her feed.

  * * *

  Monte led his family out slowly onto the home’s front porch. The street was quiet. The air was bitterly cold and there was a slight breeze sweeping in from the northwest.

  “Remember…keep your eyes peeled,” he whispered behind him. “Anybody see anything, and you speak up…speak up quietly, but speak up quickly.”

  He led his flock down the front steps, across the front yard and out into the street. There, they hooked a right. Moments later, they were skirting the metal posts inserted into the pavement that blocked vehicle traffic from entering the paved forest path.

  The morning was still, especially compared to the previous night. There were no sounds of jets screaming overhead. No thunder of helicopters thumping across the sky. No rumble of rockets detonating or bridges exploding. No screams from people being ripped apart by biters. No gunfire from looters, vigilante gangs, or people trying to defend their homes.