The next morning Kyle woke up later than planned and found moving an arduous task when every muscle protested against his slightest efforts. He lay back thinking maybe he would wait to leave until the following morning, in order to give his body time to recover. Spending another night in the ghost town wasn’t an appealing prospect, but failing out at sea was even less desirable. Kyle lay his head back down and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing became deep and rhythmic. Dreams of flying demons did not return. The next time he opened his eyes was in the middle of the afternoon. He was still sore, but felt better rested. He showered and headed for the kitchen where he heated two cans of chicken and dumplings soup. He added two tins of sardines and a box of crackers. The crackers weren’t the crispiest, but hauling food across the Bering Strait was not part of the plan, and he was grateful to find anything edible. He didn’t expect conditions in Alaska to improve, but hoped at least he could scrounge up enough to eat until, until...
“Until what?” he asked the empty room.
Based on what he’d seen thus far, the chances of finding survivors seemed improbable. Kyle cleaned up the kitchen, putting everything back the way he found it. A search through one of the closets provided a parka, ski mask and gloves. In the kitchen he found galoshes. They were a size too big, but an extra thick pair of socks fixed the problem. Once dressed, he ventured outside to investigate the island. Again the first thing he noticed was the three suns. He checked his watch, then the suns, and back to his watch. It didn’t make sense, but with no one to discuss the why and what of the suns, Kyle walked on towards the shore.
He gazed out across the sea, back the way he came. Despite the frigidness the water remained free of icebergs. Several hundred yards off shore, the white mist hung over the water like a thick curtain. However, on the island, visibility was clear and the temperature, according to his watch, was five degrees. He walked along the shore. The wind blew gustily and at times pushed him sideways. He glanced over at the suns, which at three o’clock in the afternoon should have been on the other side of the island. Nothing about any of this made sense.
Behind him a door slammed. The sound was carried by the wind to where he stood. Kyle whipped around, hands up ready to fight. Realizing no threat was imminent, his hands drifted down to his side, not relaxed, but poised to spring forward at any sign of movement. A door slammed again. His fists clenched and then eased open as he recognized the culprit. The wind was playing tricks on his weary mind, poking fun at his imagination. No one was here. No humans, he added. This came as an afterthought, a connection to the sounds he dreamt of during the night.
After he’d lost contact with his family, Kyle thought he had experienced loneliness in the truest sense. But now, here on the island, with its crushing arms wrapping around him, squeezing his breath away, he felt a sense of isolation that threatened to upend his sanity. This feeling, coupled with the dead bodies, invited panic to join the party. Standing with his back to the shore, Kyle felt removed from his body and mind. Logic fought against the darkness of solitude, against the unknown, but was losing ground fast. A voice whispered his name. His head snapped up, turning in all directions. “Who’s there?” he yelled out, but the wind grabbed his voice and carried it away. A powerful gust of wind rolled off the sea, up the rocky beach and pushed Kyle from behind. Stumbling forward, he reached out for balance, but couldn’t catch himself before falling onto the rocks. The jolt was enough to tilt the fight in favor of logic. As if someone had slapped him or threw cold water in his face, Kyle snapped out of his trance, squashing his fears by refocusing on. Another night on the island now seemed like a bad idea, but it was too late to start the second leg of his journey. He knew he could make Small Diomede Island by dusk, but the effort outweighed the purpose. Squaring his shoulders and taking in a deep breath, he steeled his resolve.
“One night won’t be the death of me.” He laughed out loud, amused by his choice of words. “Better not be,” he replied out loud, finding the sound of his voice helped drown out his nagging fears. An understanding for why crazy people talked to themselves dawned on him. Chuckling, Kyle walked back to the building where he’d slept the previous night. As he approached, the door slammed against the railing and despite his resolve he jumped back. His reaction was followed by a string of curse words. Anger served as good a weapon against fear as anything. Once back inside, he went into the kitchen and closed the door. If he was going to be stuck here for the next sixteen hours he was at least going to be warm. The room was small enough to make cozy with a few minor improvisations.
Rolled towels were placed at the base of the door to block the draft. A search through the pantry and drawers turned up heavy duty aluminum foil. Using this, he covered the small window with a double layer. Duct tape helped hold the foil in place. Next, perhaps to have something to do, Kyle foiled the doorway as well, covering every inch so that not a shard of light could be seen. Once this was complete, he took a quick shower and dressed in some of the clothes he’d found, trying to not think about the previous owner as he put them on. With his gear stored in the corner of the kitchen and the mattress laid out in the middle, he felt ready for the night. Night time by his watch was approaching soon and with this trepidation tagged along. He didn’t know why the dark should disturb him, other than maybe human nature dictated to fear that which makes us feel vulnerable.
Looking around at his handy work, Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and smiled with satisfaction. Silly he knew, but it was all a ruse to occupy his mind, the same way a parent distracted an upset child with candy or a toy. Kyle’s eyes came to settle on the aluminum foil box and he was reminded of the movie, Signs.
“What the hell,” he said and got busy making a hat out of aluminum foil.
With hat in place, Kyle turned his attention to the issue of heat. The oven was powered by propane, safe to use indoors, and if he kept the temperature on low might get him through the night. He turned the knob to one hundred. When the temperature hit the mark he opened the door halfway allowing the heat to flow out. He frowned. Of course the heat was going to rise. Foil came to the rescue once again as a he fashioned a hood above the oven door to direct the heat downwards. The only thing missing now was a TV to fall asleep to.
Remembering he’d seen a stack of books being used as a makeshift night stand, Kyle returned to the bedroom and retrieved the entire collection. Sitting on the mattress he sorted through the books. All were in Russian, a language he only knew enough of to get in trouble. On the bottom of the pile he found the only book written in English. He laughed out loud.
“War and Peace. Go figure.” He flipped the pages to the first chapter. “I’ve always wanted to read you,” he told the book. “But you’re so wordy. Not that wordy is a bad thing and you’re pretty good at the words,” he explained to the pages crammed with description. “But my attention span is short and usually preoccupied with things that don’t involve many words at all. If ya know what I mean.” He winked at the book. “Short sentences worked best for me. Like, ‘Of course I love you’ or “I’ve never met anyone like you,” that one was popular.” He chuckled at his wit and began reading. Two chapters in and the book slipped from Kyle’s hands.
Sometime later Kyle awoke with a start. The warmth in the room let him know the tank still had gas. Outside the wind was silent. He listened to the nothingness. A floor board creaked on the other side of the kitchen door, causing every single hair to rise on his body. Each and every nerve wound up tight ready to spring, but not a muscle twitched. Holding his breath, Kyle waited for verification that he was still alone.
A loud scuffling sound verified he was not. Grunting confirmed the visitor was a living thing. He imagined maybe a wild animal had entered the building, perhaps smelling the food he’d cooked earlier. From his recollection he hadn’t seen any signs of animals on the island, but what else could be making those noises? A human wouldn’t make those sort of noises. A thud against the door almost shocked a curse word from his mo
uth. Kyle slithered off the mattress over to a drawer where the knives were kept. Very easy he inched the drawer open and pulled out a knife. With his back against the cupboards he sat directly across from the door, waiting. He absently reached up and straightened the aluminum hat from sitting crooked on his head.
On the other side of the door his visitor continued to cause a ruckus. Chairs were shoved across the floor, followed by a loud crash and glass breaking. Kyle imagined the boat picture was no longer on the wall or in one piece. Then movement ceased, save for the sound of toenails clicking across the tile and stopping in front of the kitchen door. Kyle’s eyes grew wide. His hand gripped the knife till his knuckles turned white. An incredible screech from outside the building rattled the window. Kyle braced for attack. The visitor outside his door answered back with an equally deafening screech, all the more so because it was only a few feet away. Several seconds went by before a second screech from outside responded and Kyle heard his visitor leave the building.
An hour lapsed before Kyle dared to move and only then out of absolute necessity. The screeching had shattered the window and a shard of glass now penetrated the foil. Frigid air flowed freely into the kitchen. He removed the glass shard and quickly patched the hole before climbing under the mound of quilts. Sleep came in spurts the remainder of the night with every little sound shocking him back to consciousness. When his watch alarm alerted him that it was morning Kyle couldn’t move fast enough.
Inspection of the outer room revealed what he already knew. The picture lay shattered and broken on the ground; chairs were overturned and misplaced. The front door had been torn from its hinges. On the floor, left behind in the frozen blood stains was the imprint of a large claw like foot. From this he gathered the maker of the print was some sort of animal. A big heavy animal. Kyle stared at that print for a long time having only an inkling of an idea of how lucky he was to be alive.
Madison and Zack could have told him.
Kyle wasted no more time wondering about his visitor. He had a long swim ahead and was anxious to get going. This feeling of urgency stayed with him the entire day, which mercifully turned out to be uneventful. The sea remained calm during the crossing, allowing him to make excellent time. Once ashore he didn’t wait for the welcoming committee or take in the sights. Having no idea if those things from the island would come after him, he decided to follow the exact steps he took the night before. Entering the first building with an open door, Kyle quickly looked around. A Terry’s Wilderness Room sign perched above the fireplace in what turned out to be a diner or restaurant of sorts. They would have foil and foil was a must have. He went into the kitchen, snooped about for provisions before his eyes came to rest on the open freezer door. What little light remained reflected off the aluminum clad door of the freezer. As the reflection of light grew dimmer an idea grew brighter in his mind. “I’ll sleep in the freezer,” Kyle announced to the room, nodding his head thinking this made complete sense. An hour later, camped out in the freezer wearing an aluminum hat, Kyle finished eating cold chili from a can. He was beyond worrying about looking or feeling stupid. In the matter of survival he would put on a pink tutu and dance in the street if it meant saving his life; if by doing so meant the things from the island couldn’t find him.
The night went without interruption, allowing Kyle much needed rest. The next day he set out to search the town of Deadbear, population one hundred fifteen. A number he knew would be closer to zero, if not zero.
8 Reunion
Luke sat at the side of Austin’s bed staring at the man who was his savior and friend. Three weeks had gone by and the feeling of helplessness was devastating. Austin had given and done so much for Luke, yet here he sat doing nothing, except sitting; even the chair holding him up served more of a purpose. Luke glanced at the heart monitor, still going strong. The captain would survive this. He had to survive. “Don’t die man. We need you,” Luke said. “I need you,” he added, his voice a mere whisper. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt about Austin. How do you repay someone who saves your life on multiple occasions? Luke knew of one way, of one thing he would do should Austin not wake up. He was going to hunt Eve down and when he found her he would kill her.
How he would do this hadn’t presented itself to him, but Zack could figure that part out. It didn’t cross Luke’s mind that Zack might not be as hell bent on revenge. When it came to matters concerning the captain, Luke’s opinions were one sided. An enemy of Austin’s was his as well. Could be the Pope, could be the devil; Luke would side against them all the same if they were not on Austin’s side.
Austin’s body twitched and a moan escaped his lips. Every so often he mumbled something unintelligible. Luke thought he’d said Roxanne on more than one occasion, but could never be certain. Austin still wore his wedding ring. He’d never spoken of what had happened to his wife. Not to him or Ed, and Luke didn’t think he would have shared this with anyone else, if not them. Although, he suspected Zack knew a few things that maybe no one else did. Things Austin confided in him for reasons that didn’t matter to Luke. All that mattered right now was Zack figuring out what was wrong.
The door to Austin’s room opened and German bounded in ahead of Madison. The dog had taken up post outside Austin’s room and left only when nature called. Colin had taken to feeding him there as well, since he refused to go to the diner where his dog dish was usually kept.
“Any change?” Madison walked over to Luke.
“No. Same today as yesterday.” Luke swallowed hard, choking back the lump in his throat.
“Zack’s doing more tests today. Maybe he’ll find something.” Madison rubbed Luke’s shoulders. They’d been through so much together, she thought of Luke as family. Him, Ed and, and darn it to hell anyway, Austin as well.
“We need a real doctor.”
“Zack’s pretty smart. He’ll figure it out. I know he will,” Madison said this with more conviction than she believed. And her doubt wasn’t because she didn’t have confidence in Zack, he was a genius for heaven’s sakes, but they had no idea what they were dealing with. She wondered more than once if maybe they shouldn’t be near Austin at all, if maybe he was contagious and should be quarantined. This suggestion wasn’t well received when she broached the topic with Luke, so she stopped asking, but didn’t stop wondering. Madison pulled a chair next to Luke’s and sat down. She wanted to tell Luke about what’d happened when she went to see Austin, but no matter how she worded the scene over in her head everything sounded like craziness. Luke wouldn’t want to hear that she thought Austin had changed, that something was seriously wrong.
“Tell me about Bliss,” Madison said, deciding it best to keep her doubts to herself for now.
“It was beautiful,” Luke replied. “Like a tropical island.”
“Warm and sunny?”
“Very.”
Madison sighed. She missed the sun, the beach, her mom. She missed hearing her mom nagging at her. For the longest time she had been able to conjure up her mother’s voice. After the initial drop, when Madison had feared she was the only human left alive, her mother’s voice kept her going, kept her from losing her mind. She hadn’t heard much from her of late.
“Memories fade,” Madison said out loud not meaning to do so.
“What?”
“Nothing. Um...never mind. So tropical and what else?” she asked.
“Weird creatures, like dinosaurs, and giant birds with huge colorful feathers. It was crazy, like Alice in Wonderland crazy.”
“What about the temple? And the Adita? What were they like?”
Luke glanced at Madison, his lips pressed tightly together. “Have you ever watched a lion stalk its prey?
Madison nodded. “Not up close, but you know on TV.”
“My dad took me to Africa when I was ten. Most kids go to Disney World, I went to Africa. Anyway, we were riding across this open plain when the guide stopped and pointed. Fifty feet from where we’d stopped a pride was lying in the
shade under a tree. It was the lions and their cubs. My dad let me use his binoculars and I remember looking into the lion’s eyes. I knew she was looking right at me and was going to eat me. My dad thought it was hilarious, but I had nightmares for months.”
Luke turned from Austin and lowered his voice. “The Adita remind me of the lions.”
“Like animals?”
“Yeah, kind of, but highly intelligent,” Luke replied. “And I don’t think we’ve seen the last of ‘em. I think they’re getting ready for something bigger and probably a whole lot worse for us.”
“What makes you think that?”
Before Luke could answer the overhead lights began to flash. Madison and Luke shared a look of trepidation. Who could be approaching the bunker? Other survivors seemed unlikely and, even more so, that they would know how to find the bunker. Luke and Madison rushed out of the room. They were joined along the way by Colin and Charlie. By the time they reached the command center twelve of the fourteen bunker occupants had crowded into the room.
“Where’s Zack?” Ed asked.
Zack burst into the room. “I’m here.”
The group parted allowing him to reach the computer controlling the cameras. On the screen they watched a vehicle turn off the highway onto the road leading to the ranch house. They held their breath when the vehicle drove on to the barn and parked outside the big door. Inside the cab were two people. Zack closed in on the driver, but as always a ski mask was in place making recognition or identification impossible.
Eve of Man (The Harvest Book 2) Page 6