Point of No Return: A Post Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller (Surrender the Sun Book 3)

by A. R. Shaw

  The resolve Cassie showed just then was admirable. He felt the same way. It seemed that in order to save their loved ones, they must risk the ones they loved the most.

  When Morrow came into the room, there was a thick silence. Bishop saw that conclusion registering on the other man’s face.

  “What do you need me to do?” was all he said.

  Bishop liked the way he got right to the point.

  “I need a few of your men who know the local area, can travel a few days, and have their own equipment.”

  “You’ve got it. Three enough?”

  “Yes. And Morrow? I need you to stay here. I need you to help Cassie keep this place under control. Can I count on you?”

  A serious gaze right into his eyes and a nod was Morrow’s answer.

  “Then, let’s go.”

  21

  Walt

  The small building was nothing more than a public restroom set up next to a tiny utility shack. The exterior walls were halfway covered with layers of snow and ice. They just stood there, saying nothing for a time. “Bet they kept the damn snow shovels in there.”

  “You think so?”

  “No…I’m just kidding, sort of. Hell, I don’t know,” he said. Looking around, he realized that at least the building was in an enclosure of trees. They’d be protected for a time. The building and pipes were frozen, but he could fix that.

  “It’ll take a while to get them all here. We’ll have to move a few at a time. You’ll stay here with them as I go back and forth.”

  “It’s defensible,” she said.

  He looked at her profile, wondering about her.

  “It’s all we’ve got for now.”

  Hell, he thought, they should be happy for anything at this point, and he was…but, geez, it was an outhouse, essentially. Planting his stick in the ground, he stepped forward and with his gloved hands began to dig like a madman. He had to break in, and the first step was to clear the doorway and see what was inside.

  At first, Rebecca stood back watching him. Then, following his lead, she too began to dig.

  Meanwhile, in the dim, gray daylight, snow fell down upon them all, the flakes landing with soft but unmistakable crunches. Walt tracked them with his eyes as they landed on what he regarded as an electric blanket.

  “Are they back yet?” The whisper came from the little girl he felt by his side. So far, he’d learned that she was four years old, her name was Mary, and she didn’t like preschool but loved hot chocolate. Her eyes were blue, and her long blond hair was matted and tangled. She was a little angel to him as she played games with the tilt of her fingers and hummed nonsensical little nursery rhymes. Someone loved this child, and at this moment, she was his. But he shook with a fever. He was failing her and his family, and he knew it.

  “No…not yet, kiddo. They’ll return soon,” he said in his bravest voice, trying to sound like her dad. Anything to bring her comfort.

  Every time she poked her little head up, he looked around at the others. Some of them were buried under their silver blankets in mounds of snow and never peeked out of their sanctuaries. A few kept vigil. Only the bravest ones. Their eyes were terrified when they peeked out of their hiding places, as time went on. The darker the day became, the more scared they were. Yeager wasn’t there, and they were smart enough to know about the dangers that predators would bring with the night. They would not be able to keep them at bay in relentless darkness, no matter how brave the sacrifices of those who were willing to give all.

  A dark shape caught Walt’s eye as it darted in on his left side “Yeager! That you?” he yelled.

  His eyes were blurry. He blinked and shivered with another wave of spasms. He could not control them. “Yea-ger!” he yelled again.

  The girls with rifles looked in that direction, terror on their faces and the pointy ends of the barrels shaking.

  When no answer came, Walt whispered, “Stay down, Mary.” He covered her up as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His own rifle was out and ready. He rubbed a handful of ice into his face. Wake up, dammit, he said to himself as he blinked furiously, trying to bring the blurry images into focus. And then the screaming began.

  When Walt was able to focus, he saw that it wasn’t a wolf. Instead, a bear was sniffing around the snow-covered metallic mound on the edge of the campsite. Every now and then, snow fell, exposing the silver material as inhabitants of the mound clenched the blanket ever tighter. To his right, metallic crinkling drew his eyes to two girls who stood up in unison, their rifle barrels pointed at the bear. Their resolve was a spirit he’d only seen in brave men.

  Throwing his right arm out, Walt yelled, “No. Don’t fire. You’ll hit the children.” He kept his voice steady, knowing that loud voices would ensure an attack.

  Still, the two young girls stood aiming, both shifting from side to side. “Get away, bear. Go on now,” he urged in a calm tone.

  His sight betrayed him and blurred again. “Dammit,” he whispered, knowing the peril they were in.

  Mary began to cry then. Her whimpering, he felt in his soul.

  Oddly, even when he couldn’t tell one cry from another, he could hear Mary’s, and it tore his heart apart.

  The bear suddenly shoved his nose under the blanket. Screams erupted all around.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Walt yelled, rising with all his strength.

  When his vision cleared, he watched as the bear pulled something from under the mound. The cacophony of screams was so loud that Walt heard nothing at all. Standing, he aimed, and then he wavered. The bear suddenly dragged a form from beneath the silver. The mound collapsed, and two other children fled from beneath it, running as fast as they could. He shot at the dark bear as it placed a front paw on a girl’s small back. Perhaps she was five or six years old. He didn’t know. He saw the bear sink its teeth into her neck and pull up. Her eyes…her eyes were blue. Despite his blurry vision, Walt would never forget the minute details of her crystal clear, robin’s-egg-blue eyes.

  22

  Jax

  An hour later, Jax watched as Saul held the vibrating steering wheel of the bus. “What’s going on?”

  “We have to stop,” Saul said.

  “Why?” Jax said, his breath coming out in frozen clouds even in the front of the bus.

  “Because…I think the fuel is gelling up.”

  The vibration went from barely noticeable to an earthquake rumble. “Gelling? What does that mean?”

  Even Saul’s voice came out in a rattle as he held on. “It means…the diesel is literally freezing into a thick Jello, and the engine is starved of fuel.” Then Saul was suddenly yelling in relative quiet because the engine ceased to run.

  “I thought we talked about adding extra fuel conditioner before we left,” Jax said.

  “We did.”

  Then, over the radio, Austin asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Everyone stop. Our fuel line’s frozen.”

  “It’s really cold out there,” Austin said.

  “No kidding,” Jax replied with a roll of his eyes.

  “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean, Austin. Listen, we have to replace the fuel filter and add extra conditioner quick, or the battery will freeze up, too. Everyone needs to do the same before this happens to all of the buses. It’s like thirty below, and there’s a damn blizzard out there now.”

  Saul stood up from the driver’s seat. “We’re going to have to take turns out there. My hands are already frozen in here. Not sure I can even bend my fingers.”

  Saul retrieved the items needed to fix the engine. Jax said, “I’ll go with you, Saul. Too dangerous out there by yourself.”

  As soon as they were out of the bus, the flying snow and wind blinded them. As if it wasn’t already cold enough, the wind stole what breath Jax was able to contain in his lungs. It was always a ragged fight for breath now, and it was a tiresome fight. Gasping for air, Saul hit Jax on the arm and then pointed to the f
rozen hood over the bus’s engine. They had to get in there somehow.

  Jax shook his head, his vision already marred by the ice that threatened to freeze his eyelids shut. “Hit the damn thing first.”

  Jax held a tarp over them to keep away the blowing snow so they could at least see what they were doing. At the same time, Saul tapped the engine hood along the seal, breaking away the ice, and then coaxed the hood open. But then the wind caught hold of the hood and attempted to whip it out of his hands. “Son of a—” Saul yelled as the hood slammed down again, nearly taking off his already frozen arm.

  Jax was able to catch the edge at the last moment and held it up. The tarp flapped in the ragged wind while Saul climbed over the edge of the engine, fearing that the hood would slam down again, taking him off at the waist.

  Jax struggled with the push and pull of the hood at the whim of the frozen breeze while Saul reached inside the engine compartment by the wheel well and used a wrench to loosen the bolt holding the long fuel filter in place. Jax listened as Saul muttered cuss words that he thought were his, when finally, with the filter in one hand, he accidentally dropped the wrench from the other.

  “Of course, that would have to happen,” Saul grumbled. “Quick, we’ve got to do this inside the bus. I can’t thaw it out here.”

  Trying to lower the hood without it whipping from his hands took all of Jax’s strength. He finally set it in place and locked it down. Then the two men quickly made their way back into the bus.

  They didn’t notice the fuel smell outside in the wind, but as soon as they brought the filter inside, the fumes quickly took over. They put the yellow cylinder into a plastic pan and waited while it warmed enough for the gelled fuel to thaw and drain into the pan.

  “We can’t waste any fuel. We’ll reuse what we get out of this,” Saul said. “We can’t let this happen. Make sure everyone else uses more fuel conditioner, or this will really slow our progress.”

  Jax chuckled. He found most everything funny except death, and even then, he kept the humor to himself.

  “We’ll be right back,” Saul said to his wife, who was sitting in the back, when they were finally ready to replace the fuel filter. The wind was even worse than before.

  When Jax looked at her, she was staring right at him, as if he were responsible for Saul’s safety. What she didn’t understand was that no one was a hero here. You die, you die. Plain and simple. Jax shrugged and shook his head slightly as they walked into the blinding cold.

  “I can’t see,” Saul yelled.

  Jax grabbed the back of his jacket, and they made their way around the bus’s engine, keeping one hand on the side of the bus and staying close to one another. Grown men, and the wind whipped them to and fro. “I have to find the wrench,” Saul said, already shuddering from the cold.

  This time, Jax didn’t bother with the tarp. It was more of a hindrance than a help. While Saul searched in the snow, Jax unlatched the engine hood and tried to open the clasp. Already, the seal was frozen shut, so just as Saul did before, he tapped the seal around the rim, breaking the accumulated ice.

  “I can’t find it,” Saul yelled.

  Dropping down near the wheel well, Jax searched for the lost wrench too. Even over the wind, Jax could hear Saul shuddering from the cold. He, too, vibrated from the cold, but he knew they had to hurry. Saul was already hypothermic.

  “So…damn…cold,” Saul said, his teeth chattering.

  Finally, Jax’s hand hit something solid in the snow. He had to urge his frozen hand consciously to clasp the solid object. His mind and reflexes were slowing in the frozen conditions.

  “Got it,” Jax said.

  He stood slowly and with the aid of the bus’s side. Jax’s entire lower half was already numb. “Hurry, we don’t…have…long.” Every syllable was a grand effort of will now.

  Hoisting the engine hood up and holding it there for Saul as he leaned in took all of Jax’s strength. After Saul bolted the fuel filter in place, they added more deicer to the fuel. It took both Jax and Saul this time to lower and latch the bus’s hood in place.

  “I can’t feel anything,” Saul yelled as the wrench fell into the snow and out of sight again. “I can’t hold onto it!” He shuddered again.

  “Come on,” Jax said. “Leave it. We don’t have time.”

  When Saul didn’t move but instead began to sink down, Jax grabbed hold of him under one arm—his own hands would no longer clasp anything, either—and pulled Saul back to the entrance of the bus. Carl opened the door, and Jax stumbled, trying to get Saul inside. Carl had to reach down and pull Saul in.

  Then, Jax could not will his own legs to work.

  “Get in,” Carl yelled at him.

  “Can’t…not mov…ing,” Jax yelled back when he realized that he just could not do it. He kept thinking, Move your damn legs! But they wouldn’t listen.

  Then he saw himself being pulled up, though he didn’t feel anything other than the bitter numbness of cold. By the time they’d pulled him inside and the door was closed, he was shaking uncontrollably.

  “Got to…start the…bus,” Saul said, and while the others piled warm blankets over the two frozen men, Carl started the engine. Everyone jumped at the sound of a loud backfire, and Jax saw black smoke mixing with the blizzard outside the window. The engine sounded as if it would rattle apart. “Is it okay, Saul?” Carl asked, concerned.

  Saul nodded, unable to speak through the shaking he still endured. “Give…time,” he finally managed to say.

  What seemed like a few minutes later, the engine idled down, and the rattle dropped to more of a normal hum.

  “Austin, we’re ready to go,” Carl announced over the radio, and they began again.

  A few hours later, there was no light at all amid the trees of the Kootenai Forest. “Stop here,” Jax radioed after he was thoroughly thawed out.

  “Why here?” Austin replied.

  Jax shook his head in frustration, but he answered. “Because we’re far enough away from the next town so that they won’t hear us coming, and this is a good spot besides.”

  “I’m looking at the map. Says we’re near Elmer’s Fountain.”

  “You read real maps now? You’re learning.”

  “That’s funny. Used to hike the trail by here, when things were normal. Don’t worry about it, Austin. Don’t be so sullen. Look on the bright side: things will never be normal again. Ha! Shut down the buses and lock ’em up. Activate the night crew.”

  “Done.”

  “Hey, and Austin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We didn’t lose anyone today. It was a good day.”

  Not expecting a reply from Austin, he said, “Out.”

  Jax turned his attention to the night guard then. “Heads up, Charlie.”

  But the night watch guy from his bus was already on his way out the door. “Everyone else, lights out.” He stared at the woman with the short red hair until she blinked and turned away to face the blackened window as the lights went dim. If she was afraid of the dark, he didn’t give a damn. But then, Jax didn’t give a damn about much of anything anymore.

  Except, perhaps, for the little girl Louna, for one. He did care about her, and he often found himself feeling hopeful that she might survive this thing, despite how weak and frail she was. It was like seeing a fragile flower emerge through the snow before spring. Only Louna was not a flower, and spring damn sure wasn’t coming anytime soon.

  23

  Bishop

  Watching them buzz away on their snowmobiles, Maeve noted the rare amber sunrise peeking out below the gloomy clouds as ice crystals formed over her nostrils. There were times when the sun showed itself but only in the early morning hours. It was a rare anomaly, and coming at this precise time, an omen. “Please bring them back,” she demanded of the universe, the gods, or anyone who might be listening. Forever, she’d be a woman begging for sustained life. It was something she despised about herself, but she also knew that she had litt
le choice.

  A hand touched her arm. “They’re going to be okay, Maeve. They’ll find them and bring them home. I don’t know how I know, I just do,” Cassie said. She smiled as she watched the rescue group descend out of sight.

  “You love him, Cassie. That’s how you know.” Maeve took a deep breath and hoped that she was right…for all their sakes, but especially for the children aboard that aircraft. Living with that loss would devastate those who were risking their lives to make it there by land from Coeur d’Alene.

  Stammering, Cassie said, “I don’t…love him. I mean, I care about him.”

  That’s when Maeve turned on her. “Call it what it is, Cassie. Love the man for all you’re worth, because everyone knows that tomorrow may never come.”

  Opening the hatch door again, Maeve disappeared inside. She knew Cassie would count the guards and make sure they were safe before she reentered. That was her job, security.

  Maeve’s job was seeing to everyone else on the inside. For now, all of the newcomers, Morrow’s people and their own, were doing just fine. But as Bishop had warned her before he left, things changed on a dime. She should never let her guard down. Not even for a second. And she had no intention of doing so. Cassie could be counted on, but Maeve had to watch out for Donovan. As for Morrow, Bishop trusted him, but she wasn’t so sure. Call it instincts. Call it whatever you wanted, but Maeve had lost trust in humankind long ago. Though she’d always honor Bishop’s opinions, there was something about Morrow she couldn’t figure out—the way he sat in the cafeteria, his back always to a wall, never an entrance, and just gazed out at the others. At times, some of his residents would go up to him and whisper some message into his ear for no one else to hear. No emotion played upon his stolid face.