Sal took our plates away. Bob went to slap her on the backside as she walked past him, until she gave him an icy stare.
He leaned forward. “Tell me more about Genesis Alliance.”
“We met a member yesterday,” I said. “He gave us the info on Hart Island.”
“Well, I think I need to know the full story if we’re joining the fight.”
“He was press-ganged into an organization that did all of this. They carry out activations through devices spread around the world. I’ve seen two of them in southern New York state and Hermitage. You can also trust us.”
“Why are they doing this?” Bob said. “I don’t understand the motivation.”
“We don’t know,” Jack said and glanced at Brett. “We’ve had to fight our way to Monroe and back just to get these snippets.”
Bob pointed at Brett. “Does he know something that he isn’t saying?”
Brett bowed his head. “I arrived with Jack and Harry last Friday.”
Only actors on the Syfy channel outdid Brett for bad acting. I put my arm around him. “He’s been through a lot, Bob. Go easy on him.”
“How did you know they were in Monroe?”
“We met one of them in southern New York,” Jack said. “He told us the location of the main U.S. contingent. There’s a bigger force on their way from the UK.”
I wondered how suspicious we actually sounded. If I were in Bob’s shoes, and a group of survivors turned up with this information, I’d be asking questions and thinking they were part of it.
“You just met one out of the blue?” Bob said. “And more are coming?”
“That’s right,” Jack said, his mouth still stuffed with cake. “This isn’t a small operation.”
Bob sighed and pulled a black book from his pocket. “I have something to show you that you might find interesting.”
He licked his finger and flicked open a few pages before placing it on the table. “Read it. Transcripts of the radio contact I’ve had with a man named Anthony Olney.”
My heart sank as I reached forward and grabbed the soft leather-bound book. I read the first page, his written journal of events, all dated and with times filled in. The book began with details of every call made by Bob, including some contact with pilots in the air. Then a period of radio silence until the first transcription of his conversation with Anthony.
Anthony had told Bob that he was part of the surviving government and was rallying the country to gather up all survivors and organize their sanctuary. Bob replied, saying a group of survivors were in a hangar close to Elyria. Anthony instructed him to wait for rescue.
The book recorded radio silence again for a few days until early this morning. Anthony transmitted again, telling him to keep an eye out for two British men named Jack and Harry and a New Zealander named Brett.
With Anthony and Jerry on our trail, and in the local area, it was only a matter of time before they showed up here. I closed the book and looked up at him.
“The guys told me your names,” Bob said. “I could have radioed Anthony, but it didn’t feel right. I wanted your side of the story, and you saved my men in town.”
“You’re on very dangerous ground here—” Jack said.
“What do you mean?”
“Anthony is their hatchet man,” I said. “He slit a woman’s throat and blamed it on us. Beat a man’s brains out with a bat. If he knows your location, I suggest you find another one, and quickly.”
“We were going to move to my farm, but as things were going well here . . .”
“If Genesis Alliance comes here,” Jack said, “they will be well armed and will show you little mercy.”
“Why do they want you?”
“They want us because we’ve taken a few of them out,” Jack said. “We burned down the local leader’s house. That’s why they’re going to Hart Island.”
“You’ve led them here,” Bob said.
I slid his notebook back across the desk. “We’re not special cases. You’ve seen the world outside. The threat is real, and you need to move.”
“They already know about you, and that fact should give you enough motivation to find another place,” Jack said.
“Bring Dave here,” I said. “Ask if those goons in town looked like a friendly force.”
“He already told me they looked like a mean bunch. We’ll head over to the farm and work it out from there. Do you mind helping? It shouldn’t take long.” Bob looked at Brett. “You sure you’re okay, son?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather.”
“You’re certain using a cattle prod on crazies will work?” Bob said and rubbed his beard. “I guess we could always give it a go on Amanda.”
Brett gave a single firm nod. “It’s the best solution available.”
Our story would sound silly to any rational human, but we were living in irrational times. At least Bob considered our words and acted.
He called the other seven into a group in the center of the hangar. Besides the old lady and the two men we’d met in town, the other three men and two women looked bedraggled and worn out.
Bob stood on a small wooden box, like a second-rate politician. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s come to my attention that we have a potentially immediate threat. Unfortunately, it means we have to leave our location and find a new home.”
The group whispered among themselves; two shook their heads. He continued, “It’s not a bad thing. We can use my farm. You know I have a limited amount of supplies, but we can take what we have built up here and carry on expanding our community.”
“What threat? We were okay until those two turned up,” said a man in a dirty yellow shirt and brown trousers.
“They’ve come here to warn us,” Bob said. “Apparently, another disaster wave is coming. I’ve been provided with a solution by which we can stay safe. The first priority is moving from here. I’ll provide more details once we get to the farm.”
The group looked at each other and continued whispering.
He clapped his hands. “Get to it, guys. We’ve been compromised and need to relocate.” He turned to us. “Bring your car to the back, and help me load the stores. You’re helping me explain what’s going on once we arrive.”
“No worries. You’re doing the right thing,” I said.
Jack nodded toward Amanda. “Are you going to test the prod on her?”
“After we clear ourselves, I’ll come back and cure her.”
“Why not do her first, and show your group that it works?” Brett said.
“Prod’s at my farm. Do you want her in your car?”
None of us needed to answer his rhetorical question.
For the next twenty minutes, we loaded food and equipment into the back of our vehicle. Bob busily ran among his group members, helping carry boxes and giving words of encouragement. Amanda struggled against her restraint and shouted insults at anyone who passed.
I got the impression Bob was well liked among the group. Survivors in this world had little choice of companionship if they wanted to form a group. I could think of worse choices than for him to be in command.
After finishing packing, we formed a convoy with the vehicles outside the hangar. Bob led from the front, weaving along back roads through the countryside.
“They seem to be doing all right,” Brett said.
“If you keep acting like you were back there,” I said, “people are gonna smell rat.”
“Fair point. The problem is knowing what to say.”
I had to keep reminding myself he was a tech geek and in a difficult situation, but we had to be tight and convincing when coming across survivor groups. People would be paranoid, scared, and suspicious.
I peered through the window for any signs of GA. My thoughts drifted back to Bernie, for some reason; the thought o
f him waddling out of his bedroom in pants and vest made me smile. The activation had made me evaluate friendships in my previous life, and I realized that I hadn’t spent enough time with the people who mattered. We all had busy lives, and I’d used it as an excuse. If we managed to get through this, I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
The convoy snaked through narrow country roads with fields on either side. The sparsely populated area probably provided ideal survival ground—the opposite of our intended destination, although I had no intention of hanging around Bob’s farm, especially now that we knew about the convoy.
We rattled over a cattle guard and entered a rural property with a smart Victorian farmhouse at the end of the road; a darkly stained, rickety wooden barn stood opposite, surrounded by lush green grazing fields.
The vehicles stopped in a disorganized formation at the front of a house on a cobbled yard. I got out of the car and stood behind the group already surrounding Bob.
“Unload into the barn, and we’ll discuss arrangements,” Bob said and disappeared inside the house.
He quickly returned with a wooden cattle prod and a shotgun. Dave stared across a field at a distant plume of smoke. Bob clicked his fingers. “Come on now—this isn’t the time for daydreaming.”
Someone has to play leader in these types of situations. Bob seemed officious but friendly. I respected him for taking control and trying to organize things. An every-man-for-himself attitude would only further fragment the decimated population. It certainly wasn’t for Jack, Brett, or me to start dishing out advice to local people in Ohio, telling them how to run their wrecked lives.
We unloaded the contents of the Pontiac into the corner of the barn and relaxed against its timber wall. Jack pulled out a packet of cigarettes he’d taken from the café in Elyria and lit one up. Brett tugged at weeds that sprouted between cobblestones. I sat back and closed my eyes, enjoying a peaceful moment as the sun beat against my face.
Footsteps approached. I opened my eyes to see Bob jogging over. “I’m going to call the team meeting in five minutes. You need to tell your story, and I’ll be the first to take the cattle prod.”
“No problem. I’ll do it,” Brett said.
“You seem in a hurry, Bob,” Jack said. “Why not chain Amanda up and bring her over for a demonstration?”
“I lead by example. My priority is to keep everyone safe and show them we’re all equal.”
“Whatever you want,” I said. “We’ll do our bit and leave. We’re up against the clock.”
Bob crouched in front of me. “I’m going to put Hart Island to a vote. We can come with you and stop this thing.”
“Speed is the key. You also have to understand that the risk is significant.”
“Doing nothing is a bigger risk,” he said. “Convince the guys, and we’ll follow you.”
I considered whether a larger group would slow us down. Numbers would help to combat any threat we encountered on our way, but a smaller group would be more nimble. Brett might also be compromised when we arrived at Hart Island, when he did his thing. I doubted all would be as accommodating as Jack and me.
Bob stood in the middle of the courtyard. “Meeting in the barn in two minutes.”
The group trudged in through the two main doors, one after the other, and stood in a semicircle in the center. The barn had a straw-covered floor and an assortment of farming tools neatly placed along one side. Hay bales were stacked at the back. Behind them, I could see cracks of light shining through the thin gaps of a doorframe.
We stood to Bob’s right, in front of the group.
“These three have a story for you. The devil is coming and we need to be ready. They have a procedure to help you avoid the consequences of another radiation wave from the enemy. They’ll explain it from here.”
Jack stared at him. “We never mentioned a radiation wave.”
I elbowed Jack. “I’ll take it from here.”
It seemed pointless trying to undermine Bob’s understanding. The theory mattered little. The remedy was the most important thing, along with a warning of what people were facing. I decided not to pull any punches when taking the group through events. They had to know the reality of the situation and the consequences of not acting.
Looking around the barn at the various faces, I viewed a mix of emotions as I took the group through our own experiences since landing in New York. At first they listened intently. When I explained about Genesis Alliance and the information we’d gathered from Brett, the mood seemed to change. A couple of people stood open-mouthed; one lady put her hands over her face and muttered. A man put his hand on his forehead and tried to speak. No words came out.
Bob stepped toward the group and raised his cattle prod. “If you want to avoid being turned into a fruitcake, I need to buzz you.”
“Are you serious?” a woman said.
“I’m afraid it’s all true,” Jack said. “We will stop it if we can, but . . .”
“How long have we got till the shit hits the fan again?” Arun asked.
“Four days,” I said.
He looked at Bob. “If you believe it, you go first.”
Arun had displayed cynicism back in town. I didn’t expect everyone to believe us, and it came as no surprise that he’d piped up.
“I will lead by example,” Bob said. “After that, I want you all to form an orderly queue.”
He dropped to his knees, facing Jack, and passed him the prod. “It’s primed and ready to go. Just hit the button on the handle.”
Jack walked to Bob’s rear. “You know we’ve never done this before?”
“Yes, yes—get on with it,” he said impatiently, shaking his head.
Jack held the prod out, looking like the Queen knighting a subject, and pressed it against the back of Bob’s head. Bob gasped after the electric snap, leaned forward, and screwed up his face.
“Hit me again.”
Jack repeated the procedure. There was a sharp intake of breath. Bob’s eyes widened and rolled up in his head, and a string of saliva hung from his mouth.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Bob’s head dropped and he groaned. He slumped to the ground and made a strange croaking noise. Brett gasped and took a step back. Sal screamed.
“Shit,” Jack said.
He rolled Bob onto his back and slapped his face a couple of times but received no response. Jack leaned over his nose and mouth before grabbing Bob’s wrist and checking his pulse.
The group converged on their stricken leader.
“Oh my God,” a woman gasped. “Is he breathing?”
“You’ve killed him!” a man said.
Jack clasped his hands together and pumped Bob’s chest. I knelt next to his body and noticed a wet patch forming around the crotch area of his cream chinos.
I’d seen this before in my local village pub. The heart of one of the old regulars had packed up as he sat in his favorite chair, drinking whiskey. We’d tried to use our medical training from the Army, pumping his chest to get oxygen to his brain in order to preserve function until the ambulance arrived. It didn’t work; besides that, an ambulance wasn’t about to show up at the farm any time soon.
Jack stopped pumping, reached up, and closed Bob’s eyelids. Sal cradled his head and sobbed. A pistol slide sprang forward.
Arun aimed at Jack. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”
Jack reached for his rifle. “Jesus Christ, it was an accident!”
“Accident or not, a man’s lying dead and you’re responsible.”
“Who makes you judge and jury?” I asked and raised my rifle.
Dave grabbed Arun’s shoulder. “He didn’t mean it. We don’t need any more killing today.”
Arun stared into my eyes. “I don’t care about the old man. He’s been jacking me around for days. I�
�m more interested in you three. You show up with a crazy story and ask us to line up to be electrocuted.”
“Everybody calm down,” Brett said and stood between Arun and me. “We can talk this through.”
Arun broke eye contact and looked over my shoulder toward the barn door. A vehicle approached outside. Its engine cut and two doors slammed shut.
“I haven’t finished with you three yet,” Arun said. He gestured the others toward the entrance with his gun. “Let’s find out who our visitors are and deal with these three after.”
Sal wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m staying with Bob.”
“You’re coming out with us. Bob was your husband. You need to be part of the decision.”
Dave eased Sal up by her arm. The group stepped around us and left the barn. Warmth had turned to cold stares. Arun closed the large double doors, and a bolt squeaked along its rail.
I peered through a small gap between two decaying pieces of timber. Three men, dressed in black, stood in front of a Rover at the property’s entrance, around forty yards from the group. Arun led the other five members of the group toward them.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I said.
“You read my mind,” Jack said.
I took one last look out front. The group reached within thirty yards of the GA goons. Anthony stepped from behind the Rover, holding an M60 at his hip and opened fire.
Rounds ripped through the survivors and peppered the barn. Jack and I dove to the ground. Brett froze.
“Get down!” Jack shouted.
Brett pressed his hand against the left side of his chest, pulled it away and looked at his blood-soaked hand. He dropped to his knees, his eyes glazing over, and he fell face first and joined Bob on the dirt.
I crawled over to him and twisted his head toward me. His eyes stared back vacantly. There was nothing I could do. Our plan had died with Brett, and we would follow if we didn’t act quickly.
Somebody barked orders outside. Another burst of automatic fire hit the barn. Wood chips sprayed from the decaying doors. A round ricocheted off the farming tools to our right and whizzed in an unknown direction.
Second Activation (The Activation Series Book 2) Page 12