Storm Orphans

by Matt Handle

  “We need to find him a bed and we need to keep him there for at least a day,” she said. “He’s getting worse.”

  Sawyer nodded in agreement and then self-consciously scraped a bit of dried blood off his exposed chest. Angel watched him do it and then smiled as she admired his muscled physique.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Think you’re going to live?”

  Sawyer grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been through worse,” he replied.

  “Good,” she answered. “Now why don’t you find another shirt before I completely lose my concentration?”

  Angel started back toward Jenny and Lynch but she didn’t fail to notice Sawyer actually blush for a moment before he followed her back to the spot where they’d left their friends.

  The priest was sitting on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, and his head lolled over to one side as it rested on his shoulder. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, snoring lightly. Jenny sat cross-legged in front of him, a look of concern etched across her young face.

  “He was talking to himself before he fell asleep,” Jenny whispered once Angel and Sawyer had returned. “At least I think he was talking. I couldn’t understand him.”

  Angel reached out and gently stroked the top of Jenny’s head. “Sawyer and I are going to find him a place to rest and then we’re going to stay here a little while until he feels better, okay?”

  Jenny nodded silently and then stood up beside Angel. She pulled her .38 out from the pocket of her shorts and held it at her side as she looked up into Angel’s face.

  “I’ll watch over him,” she said bravely. “Just don’t take too long.”

  Angel smiled and then bent down to place a kiss on the girl’s cheek. She’d never been a mother and now she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get the chance, but she knew Jenny was growing up too soon. At 13 years old, Jenny had seen more death than most people did in a lifetime. Angel made a silent promise to herself that she’d do whatever it took to keep the girl safe, no matter the cost.

  “Remember, keep the safety on until you need it,” Sawyer reminded Jenny gently. “If anything tries to hurt you, safety off, aim at their chest, and fire. We’ll come running, but don’t stop until they’re dead.”

  Jenny nodded solemnly and then sat back down cross-legged, gun in her lap, as she watched the old man sleep.

  “Come on,” Sawyer told Angel. “Let’s make this quick.”

  It didn’t take the pair long to check out the rest of the building, despite its size. There wasn’t another soul inside - human, zombie, or cyborg. The body count was appalling, corpses littering nearly every hall and room, but they also found living quarters, the kitchen, a huge dining room, and a decently stocked medical facility. Fifteen minutes after they left them, Sawyer and Angel were back in the hall with Jenny and the still slumbering Father Lynch.

  “I found something while you were gone,” Jenny said shyly before holding out a closed fist and then slowly opening it palm-upward. In her hand was a thin, rectangular piece of metal about three inches long and no more than half an inch wide. It was slightly warped and jagged on one end, but as Sawyer plucked it from her outstretched hand and held it up to get a better look, he saw that it was a manufacturing plate.

  “Where’d you get this?” Sawyer asked as he ran one calloused thumb over the plate’s blackened surface to better reveal the words printed on it.

  Jenny glanced over at the sleeping priest and then back up at Sawyer. “He’s been asleep the whole time you were gone. I got a little bored so I poked around at the pieces of that thing lying all over the floor.” She nodded toward Sawyer’s hand. “That was the only piece I saw that had any writing on it. I thought it might help.”

  Sawyer reached down to help her to her feet. “You did good,” he smiled. “Now let’s see if we can get Father Lynch in a better bed.”

  After several minutes of cajoling, Sawyer wound up mostly carrying the half-awake old man down the hall to the living quarters he and Angel had found. The priest seemed to slip in and out of consciousness and kept muttering what Sawyer thought might be Latin. Once they’d gotten him on a bunk with a pillow under his head and a thin blanket draped over his still-robed body, Sawyer and Angel led Jenny down a perpendicular hallway that ended in the dining room. The three of them sat down at a table with a wall against their backs and took some time to relax and go over all they’d been through the past 24 hours.

  “What the Hell was that thing?” Angel asked as she untied her boots and removed her damp socks.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Nothing I’ve ever seen before and I’ve seen some shit,” he stated before glancing over at Jenny. “Pardon my French,” he added sheepishly.

  Jenny was playing with Luna and merely shrugged in response without raising her gaze as she played with the toy bunny.

  “It was like something out of a sci-fi movie,” Angel continued. “Who could turn one of those zombie-things into a robot?”

  Sawyer pulled the manufacturing plate out of his pocket and slid it across the table to Angel. “Not a robot,” Sawyer replied. “A cyborg. And the company’s name is Biomech. They’re a defense contractor. Black Ops stuff. We used some of their toys in Afghanistan. Nasty shit.”

  Jenny ignored the latest curse, but looked up at the word “toys”. “What kind of toys?” she asked innocently.

  Sawyer smiled. “Not the kind you’re thinking of, sweetheart.” He turned back to Angel. “Publicly, their main focus is on the development of replacement limbs, robotic controlled arms, hands, legs, that sort of thing. Behind the scenes, they also make field stimulants, bio-weapons, all sorts of stuff the military would never admit to on the record.”

  “So why are you telling me?” Angel asked.

  “I’ve been a civilian for more than four years now,” Sawyer answered. “And as far as I can tell, there’s no military left. Who am I keeping secrets for?”

  “So now they’re experimenting on the Afflicted, turning them into weapons,” Angel stated.

  “It looks that way,” Sawyer agreed. “I’m not sure whether that thing was following orders or if it went haywire, but it definitely suggests someone’s still out there pulling some strings.”

  “I’m worried about Father Lynch,” Jenny said, suddenly changing the subject. Sawyer turned to see that the girl was staring at him. “I think he’s really sick.”

  “We’re going to take care of him, honey,” Angel responded. “He’s old but he can rest here and get his strength back.”

  “He’s gonna need it if he wants to come with us,” Sawyer added.

  Angel looked at him questioningly. “Where are we going?”

  “We obviously aren’t going to get the answers here that we came for. Whoever is behind that thing we blew up back there, they probably know more than we do about what’s going on. And even if they don’t, I’m betting that’s not the only one of those monsters they’ve created,” Sawyer answered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood to sit around until a dozen of them come banging down our door. Biomech has facilities all over the country. All of them top secret. I’ve only been inside one of them, but I’m pretty sure it was their headquarters. It’s in Atlanta.”

  “Atlanta?” Angel asked incredulously. “Lynch barely made it across town. He could never walk all the way across two states! I’m not even sure we could.”

  Sawyer nodded in agreement. “That’s why we’re not going to walk. Tomorrow, we rest, let Father Lynch heal while I find us a new mode of transportation. The day after that, we’re back on the road. For now, let’s find some food and get a good night’s rest.”

  By the time the priest awoke, Sawyer, Angel, and Jenny were sleeping soundly, exhausted from the day’s events and their bellies full from a dinner of protein bars and tomato soup. The old man sat up from his bunk, his longish hair standing up in wild white tufts, and he looked around the dark room with eyes rimmed in red. His throat was sore and his spittle-flecked beard wa
s scratchy on his neck and cheeks.

  “Save us,” he croaked aloud in the darkness as he tried to figure out where he was, his mind befuddled by sickness and fatigue. “Be my refuge and my fortress, O’ Lord.”

  Sawyer woke at the sound of Lynch’s voice and rolled over to look at the lump of shadow he knew to be the old man on the bunk across the room.

  “It’s okay, Father,” he whispered. “You’re among friends, remember? The others are sleeping. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Sawyer?” Lynch asked in the darkness.

  “I’m right here,” Sawyer replied. “Try to go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

  “This is God’s wrath,” the old man hissed. “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! She has become a dwelling place for demons, a haunt for every unclean spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable beast. For all nations have drunk the wine of the passion of her sexual immorality, and the kings of the earth have committed immorality with her, and the merchants of the earth have grown rich from the power of her luxurious living.”

  “Father, this isn’t the time…” Sawyer began before Lynch cut him off.

  “She’s one of the whores that brought this evil upon us,” the priest insisted. “An example of the depths this world has sunk. She is doomed!”

  “If you’re talking about Angel, I think you’d better quit,” Sawyer said coldly.

  “She is doomed,” Lynch repeated. And then he mumbled, “The wage of sin is death.”

  Sawyer began to rise from his bed just as Lynch started to snore. The old man had fallen back to sleep almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Sawyer waited to see if he’d wake again, but after ten minutes, he decided the theatrics were over and fell back asleep himself. Whatever feverish thoughts were consuming the priest, Sawyer only hoped they’d subside by morning.

  Sawyer slept better than he thought he would. Despite the ache of his wound, he didn’t wake until after 8 AM. When he did, he felt more refreshed than he had since his last night sleeping in his trailer what seemed like weeks ago. It was hard to believe he’d only set out on this journey just four days prior.

  By the time he pulled back the sheet and shuffled into the bathroom, Angel had made a pot of coffee and was cooking some powdered eggs. The meat she’d found in the now-dead freezer had gone bad long ago, but she didn’t think her companions would complain about the lack of protein. They still had some beef jerky in their packs and the base’s kitchen had more canned goods than they could hope to take with them.

  After removing the eggs from the Sterno, Angel wandered down the hall to learn what was keeping Sawyer and the others. Seeing that his bed was empty, she poked her head around the corner of the restroom entrance to find Sawyer shaving his face in front of a mirror. She leaned against the wall and arched an eyebrow.

  “Hot date today?” she teased.

  Sawyer stopped mid-stroke across one stubbled cheek and looked her up and down in the mirror’s reflection, his eyes settling on the smooth legs she still insisted on showing off in her short-shorts.

  “Don’t even pretend I’m the only one that still takes an interest in good grooming,” he replied with a curl of his lip.

  Angel smiled flirtatiously as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Years of laser treatment,” she explained. “Hardly any maintenance at all now.”

  Angel felt her face flush as Sawyer’s eyes remained fixed on her body.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she told him. “Come get it while it’s hot.”

  Then she turned and left him to finish his shaving, wondering if the powdered eggs waiting for him in the mess hall were the only things he might be hungry for.

  Sawyer made his way to the table a few minutes later and greeted her with a “good morning” before sitting down and then slowly swiveling his arm in an attempt to work out some of the stiffness that had settled in.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Angel asked.

  Sawyer reached up to touch the bandage beneath his t-shirt and shrugged. “Hurts a little but I’ll manage.”

  “I’ll clean and dress it again after breakfast,” she said. “The last thing you need is an infection.”

  Jenny shuffled in soon after and sat down next to Sawyer, propping Luna up on the opposite side.

  “You hungry?” Angel asked her. “I made eggs.”

  Jenny nodded sleepily, but didn’t say a word. Lynch walked in right behind her and took a seat across the table.

  Sawyer worried briefly that the old man would continue his strange rant from the night before, but the rest seemed to have done him some good too.

  “I’ll take some if there’s enough to go around,” he said.

  “Plenty,” Angel replied. “Fresh coffee to go with it.”

  Lynch still didn’t look good. His eyes were puffy and red, his skin sallow with several blemishes showing through his scraggly white beard, but he seemed to be in better spirits. He chatted with Sawyer and the girls as they ate their breakfast and even chuckled once when Jenny mentioned his snoring.

  “Just wait until you’re 72, young lady,” he smiled. “You’ll learn to appreciate any sleep you can get. Every morning you rise is something to be thankful for.”

  This wisdom was largely lost on Jenny, but she returned the old man’s smile and then went back to stroking her stuffed bunny in between picking at her plate of eggs. Once they’d finished their meal, Lynch asked if he could tag along with Sawyer in his search for new wheels while Angel and Jenny stayed behind to clean up the kitchen. Sawyer wanted the old man to stay off his feet as much as possible, but figured telling him no might put him out of sorts again so he led him through the hallways of the building and then outside to the fenced-in motor pool across the rear parking lot instead.

  “Who are we cleaning these up for?” Jenny asked as she took the latest newly washed plate from Angel and began to dry it with a dish towel before stacking it with the others in the tray beside the sink.

  Angel hesitated a moment and then shrugged. “Habits are hard to break,” she answered. “My mother always taught me to clean up after meals. Who knows, maybe someone else will wander through this place someday. If they do, they won’t have to look at our mess.”

  “We could have just put them in the dishwasher,” Jenny said meekly as she glanced over at the industrial-sized machine in the corner of the kitchen. “That’s what my mommy used to always do.”

  Angel turned off the water and smiled sadly at the young girl. “I’ll bet your mommy taught you lots of good things,” she said. “I’m not sure there’s enough power left to run that big machine though. Besides, this gave us a chance to do something together while the boys figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”

  Angel plucked the towel from Jenny’s hands and dried her own before folding the towel neatly and laying it over the edge of the sink.

  “Want to help me gather up some things from the pantry to take with us on our trip tomorrow?” Angel asked.

  Jenny nodded and slipped one hand into Angel’s as the pair set off to prepare for the day ahead.

  Meanwhile, Sawyer led Father Lynch through the maze of vehicles still parked in the complex’s motor pool. There was a variety of Humvees, jeeps, trucks, and even a dusty, olive-green bulldozer.

  “I don’t suppose they taught you how to hotwire one of these things?” Lynch asked as he eyeballed a giant Humvee that sported a brown and green camouflage paint job.

  They reached a small outbuilding set in the middle of the lot and Sawyer pulled down the metal latch, the door swinging open without complaint. Inside was a wall covered in hooks and on almost every one of the hooks hung a set of keys. Sawyer grinned at the old man.

  “I’ll bet I could, but I’ll do you one better.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sawyer and Lynch rolled up to the fuel station at the back of the lot in one of the Humvees. Sawyer had chosen one that was outfitted
with a 360 degree rotating weapons ring and a web sling. Mounted in the ring were a gunner shield, an MK19 grenade machine gun, and an M60 machine gun. Attached to the back of the truck were as many fuel canisters as its racks would hold.

  As Sawyer began to remove the canisters and place them on the ground beside the pump, Lynch glanced up at all the weaponry and grimaced.

  “It looks like we’re going to war,” he commented before a hacking cough shook his frail body for a good ten seconds.

  Once Lynch got himself back under control, Sawyer replied, “That’s exactly what we’re doing. Atlanta is nine hours away in the best road conditions. Throw in blocked highways and groups of rabid cannibals and we’re going to need all the firepower and fuel that we can carry.”

  It took Sawyer another 20 minutes to fill the tanks. Then he pulled the Humvee around to the front of the complex. He parked it just outside the main doors to the lobby before shutting off the engine and helping the priest down out of the high-sitting vehicle. They made their way back through the building’s hallways until meeting up with the girls where they were just finishing their packing for the next day’s journey.

  Angel and Jenny had managed to put together a nice selection of canned goods, powdered milk, and enough jugs of clean water to last them for days. They’d stacked their stash atop one of the dining room tables. Once Sawyer had looked it over and given it his seal of approval, he asked the girls and Lynch if they were ready for the shooting lesson he’d promised them. Getting nods from all three, he led them to the complex’s outdoor firing range which he’d noticed while driving the Humvee around to the front of the building.

  Sawyer knew the noise had the potential to attract more Afflicted, but given what he’d seen here, he was pretty confident that whatever might have survived the plague in these parts had been killed by the military or the cyborg monstrosity long before he and his friends had arrived. He spent the next several hours making sure they knew their way around a gun, how to safely load and unload it, clean it, and most importantly, shoot it with some degree of confidence and accuracy. By the time they were done, Sawyer had decided that while Lynch was nearly hopeless with any target beyond 10 feet away thanks to his poor eyesight and shaky hands and that Jenny’s instinctive rejection of violence would always mean she was unreliable in a pinch; Angel might actually have some potential. She would probably never be a true marksman, but give her a gun and something or someone to shoot at and he’d put her odds at better than 50/50. All in all, it was about as much as he could have hoped for from three untrained civilians.