The Last Bastion (Book 2): The Last Bastion

by Callahan, K. W.

  Patricia wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck as instructed, almost choking off Victoria’s airway. It didn’t matter. Victoria could hardly breathe anyway she was so damn cold.

  She put all her strength toward pulling them over to the right side of the river, doing her best to escape the current’s grasp. But as the river prepared to break to the right, the current seemed to be sweeping out and to the left, dragging them farther from their intended target.

  “You have to kick!” Victoria almost screamed.

  The pain she was in, they were both in, was debilitating. She could barely think about anything other than just getting out of the damn water. But the current kept pulling them away. There was maybe only 100 feet between them and the point at which they’d be past the fallen tree, then it would all be over. Maybe that would be for the best, Victoria thought. But then she thought about the child clinging to her. Would that be best for her?

  One final surge of energy swept through Victoria as they approached the fallen tree. And just as she thought they were going to pass it, the current finally relented, allowing her slightly better progress in the stiff-limbed strokes she was attempting.

  An almost as difficult struggle to pull herself and Patricia along the log and up the riverbank then ensued. Finally, exhausted and freezing, the two collapsed onto the riverbank. But Victoria knew their battle was far from over. Now, they had to find warmth or risk hypothermia. She thought of the house from which they’d departed not even a half hour earlier. And while it would provide shelter, it had no sources of heat.

  Then it hit her. The van! The keys were still in it. If they could get back to that, they could lock the doors, blast the heat, and see if the other Blenders were still somewhere nearby. Maybe she could even free the van from where it was stuck and drive it to safety. It was all she could think to do. But the van was almost a mile away.

  Both Victoria and Patricia were shivering uncontrollably.

  “We…have…to make…it to…the van,” Victoria told her daughter.

  Poor Patricia’s teeth were chattering louder than a biter’s. Her lips were blue, her hair matted, her breath coming in steamy puffs.

  “We…have…to run…otherwise we’ll freeze,” her mother told her.

  Without waiting, Victoria shed her waterlogged winter coat and helped Patricia out of hers. Then she took Patricia by the hand and pulled her along, praying that they could make it.

  One mile…5,280 feet…sixty-some thousand inches. It didn’t seem as far when broken down that way. Victoria could easily walk far more than that just wandering the mall or strolling the beach on a sun-soaked afternoon.

  But this wasn’t the mall, and it sure as hell wasn’t a sun-soaked beach.

  CHAPTER 11

  It had been a cold, largely sleepless night for the Blenders inside the tower. There had been no reappearance of the police or the National Guard. The jets ripping their way across the sky and the distant – and sometimes not so distant – rumble of explosions around the city had faded as night slid into dawn. Electric services remained off, and much to everyone’s chagrin, biters remained prevalent. In fact, in the dreary dawn light, it appeared there were even more biters out searching for breakfast than there had been looking for a late-night snack.

  None of the Blenders had slept well. The tower was cold, damp, musty, and in the blackness of night, no one had found anything more comfortable than desk chairs upon which to rest. The remaining Blenders had no blankets to stay warm or cushion their positions inside the tower throughout the night. And every noise outside had to be investigated to ensure biters weren’t trying to infiltrate the structure. Needless to say, everyone was up by the crack of dawn. And Christine Franko immediately re-voiced her concern regarding the wellbeing of the Hines family.

  “I still think it’s too risky to venture outside for a rescue mission,” Michael countered. “We don’t even know where the Hines family is.”

  “That’s the point,” Caroline Franko nodded. “We need to find out where they are. I wouldn’t think they would have made it too far from their van on foot. They would probably have looked for somewhere safe to shelter in the general area, hoping that they could make it over to us this morning.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, we should just stay here and wait for them, right?” said Michael.

  “You’re assuming that they know we’re here?” Ms. Mary offered.

  “Well, our vehicles are still out front,” Josh Justak said.

  “Doesn’t mean they know that, though,” Ms. Mary replied. “They could be holed up in a house or a business nearby, but they might not be able to see our vehicles. They might think we’ve continued on our trip. And in that event, they could just be waiting for someone to come and get them.”

  “Then what? Should we vote on it?” Margaret asked.

  “After last night, I just don’t think it’s a good idea to venture far from this tower,” Michael shook his head. “You saw what happened to the Mendozas. And we couldn’t even hold off the biters that were around us. Who knows how many more are out there. I think that we should just hang tight and let the Hines’ get back to us whenever they can. And in the meantime, we should try to get as many provisions from our vehicles inside here.”

  “I just don’t think that’s fair,” Christine shook her head. “We’re in this together. We were supposed to get everyone to safety. Now the Mendozas are dead, the Hines family is missing, and we’re holed up like rats in here. We owe it to them to at least…”

  There was the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs that led into the tower’s upper reaches. A few seconds later, Patrick Trove appeared from where he’d been on watch duty on the fourth floor, red-faced and out of breath.

  “Looks like…someone’s coming!” he panted. “Looks like it’s…Victoria…and Patricia!”

  “You sure?” Michael asked excitedly.

  “Pretty sure. They’re coming up…39th Street…toward their van. Looks like they’ve…got some biters…after them.”

  “Come on!” Christine shouted, heading for the stairs. “Maybe we can give them some cover fire from upstairs!”

  “Caroline! You, Margaret, Ms. Mary, Julia, and the boys get the front door un-barricaded. You help them, Christine!” Michael instructed, turning Christine back around from where she was already headed upstairs. “Josh, Manny, and Patrick, you all come with me. Bring your guns!” he called as he headed for the stairs, the other men right behind him. “Damn! I wish we had our rifles and extra ammo with us,” he breathed aloud.

  The Blenders scrambled to fulfill their assigned duties.

  A minute later, the men were on the fourth floor, looking out one of the north facing windows. Patrick had been using the open windows on the floor as lookout points since being assigned watch duty for the morning.

  Far across the street, and heading toward where the Hines’ family van still sat stuck in the gravel river access, the men could see two people. They assumed the people were Victoria Hines and one of her daughters. They were running. Actually, it was more of a slow, exhausted stumble, but either way, it appeared they were doing their best to make it to the safety of the van. Behind them followed several biters. Two more biters were visible on Joliet Avenue, angling their way toward the fleeing individuals.

  “We need to give them some cover fire,” Michael insisted. “Josh,” Michael selected the next strongest shooter in the group, “take another window…just be careful not to hit Victoria or her daughter. Patrick, Manny, go back downstairs and be ready to shoot any biters if they try to get inside the tower or if they try to follow Victoria over here.”

  As Patrick and Manny rushed back downstairs, Michael and Josh each opened a fourth-floor window and began firing at the biters in the street behind Victoria and her daughter.

  “Damn, I wish we had our rifles!” Michael spat. “I can’t hit shit from way up here with a handgun!”

  And while the noise of the gunfire seemed to rat
tle the biters, it wasn’t enough to distract them from the prey they were pursuing.

  Suddenly Josh paused in his firing. “I’ve gotta reload!” he yelled.

  Michael lasted a few more seconds before he found himself in the same boat. After a pause to exchange magazines that seemed to last forever due to the pressure the men were under, they resumed their fire.

  “I got one!” Josh cried as one of the biters drop to the pavement.

  “Keep it up!” Michael yelled back over the sound of their shots.

  The men kept firing, coming as close as they dared to the biters without chancing a stray bullet striking Victoria or her daughter.

  “Yeah!” Michael yipped as another biter dropped.

  “Nice one!” Josh paused in his firing to reload the last pre-loaded magazine of rounds he’d brought with him. After this one, he’d be forced to reload each magazine by hand, a task that would substantially add to the downtime before being able to offer cover fire again.

  But there was still a biter in pursuit of Victoria and Patricia, and several more were now approaching from the condo parking lot. And the biters had closed the gap substantially. There was only about 50 yards between them and the two fleeing Blenders. But Victoria and her daughter were almost to her van. Another minute at most, and they’d be home free – or they’d at least be inside the van. Then it would be up to Michael and the others to mount a rescue party. But a rescue mission across the street would be far preferable to a search party without aim. And once they had Victoria and her daughter safe, she could tell them where the others were located. Then they could plan a rescue mission for the rest of the Hines family accordingly.

  But that was putting the cart before the horse, and Michael knew it. First, Victoria had to get to the van where she and her daughter could temporarily escape the biters around them.

  Michael paused in his firing to reload. He glanced down for just a couple seconds to eject the empty magazine from his weapon, grab another from his coat pocket, slam it home, and cock his gun.

  But even this several second pause was enough for him to miss Victoria stumble. Her legs were so numb from the cold that she couldn’t even feel them. Patricia, following close behind, tumbled over her mother.

  All Michael saw as he looked back up was the two lying in a heap, biters now closing rapidly from multiple sides. He immediately started firing again, but between him and Josh, they just didn’t have the range necessary to maximize their firepower. Michael admitted that their hitting of two biters at such a distance was simply dumb luck – extremely fortunate dumb luck, but dumb luck nonetheless. And the chance of it happening again was slim to none. Really, their only hope was to continue to distract the biters, harassing them with the sound of their gunfire, and potentially hit the lottery again by striking another biter by pure chance.

  Michael breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Victoria and Patricia back on their feet a couple seconds later and moving toward their vehicle again. But his relief was short-lived. Just as Victoria and Patricia were about to reach the van, several new biters appeared from the wooded area just beside the river access road where the van was stuck.

  “Shit! New biters!” Michael yelled.

  “I see them!” Josh said, re-focusing his aim. “I don’t have a clear shot.”

  “Me neither! Victoria’s in the way!”

  The men saw no other solution than to keep firing at the biters closing behind Victoria. There was no way they could shoot at the new biters approaching from the forest without risking hitting Victoria or Patricia.

  “No!” cried Michael.

  “Oh my god!” Josh flinched as they watched the forest biters first grab Patricia and then Victoria.

  It was all over in a matter of seconds.

  Michael stopped firing first, realizing that he was only wasting bullets.

  Josh stopped firing once his magazine was empty.

  The two men turned to face one another, wordlessly horrified.

  They didn’t linger to watch the biters feast. The horror they’d witnessed over the last seven hours was more than enough to last a lifetime.

  “We’d better get back downstairs and tell the others to button this place back up before those new biters make their way over here,” Michael huffed a long sigh.

  “Yeah…I guess so,” Josh nodded, a combination of despair and disillusionment smeared across his face.

  Back downstairs, the rest of the group was just finishing up un-barricading the front door.

  They looked at Michael and Josh expectantly, rapidly altering those expectations as soon as they saw the looks on the two men’s faces. No one wanted to be the first to ask the question they already knew the answer to. So they didn’t.

  “New plan,” Michael said instead. “Since you have the door open, we might as well try to get as many of our supplies inside here as possible while the biters are…distracted.”

  “You mean we’re staying here?” Margaret Simpson looked around her somewhat aghast.

  “I think it’s probably our best bet right now, wouldn’t you?” Michael answered. “The bridge is blown. God only knows how many other roadblocks there are between us and escaping the city. Hell, we didn’t make it more than a couple miles from home last night. I don’t think we’d have much better luck today by the looks of things. We’ve got a decent place to hold out here and plenty of supplies. So yes, I think we should stay here for now. Are you all in agreement?”

  There were shrugs, nods, and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group.

  “Do we even need to take a vote?” Michael huffed exhaustedly.

  Everyone agreed that a vote wasn’t necessary.

  “Okay, then our first order of business, since the front door is open and we aren’t being swarmed by biters, should be to get as many supplies from our vehicles into the tower as we can. If we back our vehicles right up to the tower’s perimeter fence, we should be able to move pretty fast. So let’s do that first. Everyone back their individual vehicles up to the fence. Everyone grab extra guns and ammo first in case more biters arrive. Get the rifles. Then we’ll be ready for them. Patrick, you, Mom, and Margaret stand watch while the rest of us move our vehicles.”

  “What about us?” Andrew Franko asked.

  “You and your brother stay in here, along with Justin,” Michael told the youngster.

  “But we can help,” Andrew persisted.

  “You can help by staying in here to start. We’re going to need fresh bodies to move all the supplies once we get them inside the tower. All I need for you to do is stay safe in here and be ready to start carrying stuff as soon as we’re ready. You’ll get your chance to help, believe me. We’re going to have to move fast. I don’t know how long we’ll have until the biters see us working out there, so be ready. We might only have a couple minutes. Okay?”

  “Okay,” the boys nodded obediently, knowing that Michael was dead serious about their importance to the situation.

  Two minutes later, the group had pulled their vehicles back over the parking lot’s curb and up to the edge of the tower’s perimeter fencing.

  Patrick, his mother, and Margaret Simpson remained on post as lookouts, guns at the ready. Most of the biters were over near the Hines’ van, concentrating on fighting over and finishing what was left of poor Victoria and Patricia.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the surviving Blenders formed a supply chain – a fire bucket brigade of sorts – grabbing goods from the back of their vehicles and sending them down the line and inside the tower. They worked frantically, passing a variety of goods – food, water, medical supplies, toiletries, clothing, weapons, ammunition.

  “Where should we put the guns and ammo?” Jack Franko called from the doorway of the tower’s main entrance.

  “Just put stuff anywhere for right now!” Michael called back. “We’ll organize it later. For right now, we just need to get everything inside the tower where it’s safe…where we’re safe!”

  It wasn’
t five minutes into their work before Patrick called, “Biters approaching!”

  Michael paused in his work and moved over to where Patrick was standing post at one corner of the tower fencing.

  Patrick was pointing across the parking lot and over toward Joliet Avenue. Michael could see a cluster of at least five or six biters moving toward the tower.

  “Stay here,” Michael instructed his son. “I’m going to get a couple rifles and some extra magazines. Any of those biters get close before I get back and you say good morning to them with that shotgun,” he nodded at the weapon Patrick clutched in his hands.

  “Josh!” Michael turned to yell back toward where the Blenders’ best shot was toiling along with the rest of the group. “Come with me!” he waved Josh over. “We need to weapon up if we’re going to finish our work out here.”

  Josh hurried over to where Michael was already on his way inside the tower.

  It took them several minutes to find what they were looking for – a .22 semi-automatic rifle with several pre-loaded 30-round magazines for Josh, and a single-barrel, 12-gauge shotgun for Michael. Michael wanted Josh to use the smaller caliber .22 for its range, accuracy, and its more rapid rate of fire. He wanted the 12-gauge for its power should any of the biters that Josh might miss get in close.

  Michael didn’t necessarily want to kill biters. If they were killed in the process of defending the tower and his people, then so be it. Really, he just wanted to get rid of the things whether by scaring them, wounding them, or if called for, killing them. But he knew that it didn’t always take death to get rid of a biter, and the less ammo it would take to do so, the better.

  Rounds for the .22 rifle were small, barely an inch long, so they had plenty to spare. A small box of ammunition for such weapons could hold 500 rounds. Thus, Michael’s other reason for the weapon selection for Josh. Ripping through a couple magazines from the weapon, which was simple to use, barely had any recoil to it, and was easy to clear of jams if or when they occurred, would hardly put a dent in their supply of ammunition.