The Last Bastion [Book 2]

by K. W. Callahan

  “Got it,” Manny and Margaret nodded in unison as they turned and headed back downstairs.

  Michael continued addressing the rest of the group. “With all the biters out there, it looks like we could be here for a while. And I don’t think it’d be a good idea to waste fuel running a generator for lighting on this floor when we have plenty of natural light upstairs on the fourth floor. But before we make any decisions, we should probably get a better feel for the layout of this place first. Then we can decide how best to defend our position, where we should set up camp, and where we should locate our supplies. While it’s going to be a bitch, the higher we go, the safer we’ll probably be from biters. But let’s get the lay of the land first.”

  Michael shivered as he began to cool down from the physical labor that had kept him relatively warm so far. “Jeez, it’s freezing in here. Getting the layout of this place will also help us pick out the best spot for bedding down at night.”

  “A spot that is hopefully a bit more comfortable and a heck of a lot warmer than sleeping downstairs last night,” Christine Franko snorted.

  “This tower doesn’t seem to hold much heat. Having the glass on the front door broken doesn’t help,” Josh Justak added. “If we get a chance, we should probably try to seal it up better at some point.”

  “But that would mean removing the barricade in front of the door to get to it. And right now, with all those biters outside, I don’t think it’d be a wise move,” Michael pointed out. “I’d rather deal with the cold than deal with the biters.”

  “True,” Josh agreed.

  “And we may have broken windows on other floors to deal with first,” Ms. Mary added.

  “Well then, are we ready?” Michael asked.

  The group confirmed that they were.

  “This place is so cool,” Jack Franko whispered to his brother and Justin Justak. “It’s like some sort of awesome fortress or castle or something.”

  “Yeah,” the other two breathed aloud, gazing around them. “Coooool.”

  The group was already largely familiar with the tower’s first four floors, the dimensions of which in the light were larger than Michael had first estimated. By his best guess, they measured roughly 40 feet by 40 feet.

  The first floor, or “entry” level, contained a small, enclosed office toward the rear, river-facing side of the space. There were several sizeable, and currently empty, display cases ringing the level’s perimeter walls that Michael had missed in his first scans of the area. And an assortment of office furniture – desks, a file cabinet, several trashcans and lamps – was sprinkled haphazardly around the first floor. Some of these items had been used to barricade the tower entrances. The only light on this level came from the two glass fronted entry doors, the barricading of which meant that little natural light managed to find its way inside.

  The stairwell leading to the tower’s upper levels was set against the structure’s north side. Other than its entrance, the stairwell was enclosed from the rest of the level by a wall. The group found this to be a positive aspect of the tower’s design. It made the stairwell far more defensible and easier to block off should it prove necessary.

  There was a second stairwell, accessed by a door at the rear of the first-floor office, on the other side of the tower. This stairwell backtracked between floors, reversing course at a small landing halfway up before continuing to the next level. The stairwell eventually led all the way up to the fourth floor, with exits at all the levels in between.

  Regarding the office stairwell, Michael noted, “We’ll keep both its entry door as well as the door to the office closed in case the biters breach the tower entrances. Since they aren’t good at opening doors, it will at least hold them off until we can retreat and reorganize at a higher level.”

  Up one flight, on the second floor, there was more old furniture, consisting mostly of dusty folding chairs. The floor was completely open and unobstructed by walls. There was a small stage, complete with podium, at the floor’s south end, and the group took this space to have once been used for meetings and other large gatherings. Beside the stage were two small restrooms, one marked “men”, the other was marked “women”. Both had handwritten, “Out of Order” signs affixed to their doors.

  Along the floor’s east and west-facing walls were additional empty, glass-fronted display cabinets. Similar to the first floor, this level had no windows, which allowed for no natural light, making it extremely dark. The space, like much of the rest of the tower, had a musty sort of smell to it, and it was just as chilly as the first floor.

  The third floor, other than a few chairs scattered haphazardly about the space, was open and largely empty. An open window on each tower wall made it light enough to see without a flashlight during the day, but still left the floor shrouded in darkness. The group noted the spot as a favorable potential sleeping space.

  The fourth floor was intriguing. It was the first floor that offered four walls worth of windows that hadn’t been bricked over or covered in some other way. The windows were rectangular in shape and offered views from all four directions of the tower.

  Three walls of the space contained multiple waist-high display cabinets, the interiors of which were all empty. The fourth, south-facing wall, where the bathrooms and stage would have been on the second floor, contained a faux post office display. There was a beautiful and massive wood counter with caged customer windows. Behind the counter was a large wall safe and a display containing a variety of vintage mail sorting and stamping equipment. A display plaque explained that the counter was from the original Lyons post office. It had been brought over when the tower was housing the historical society’s museum.

  It was a beautiful and interesting display that the group collectively took a quick minute to inspect before continuing to the fifth floor.

  As they walked up the next flight of stairs, Ms. Mary said, “I pray we get settled on one of the lower floors. My knees won’t take these stairs.”

  The fifth floor was a complete departure from the lower levels. It was set up almost like a corporate office environment, being divvied into eight, sizeable workspace cubicles complete with desks, office chairs, file cabinets, trashcans, and desk lamps. A few of the spaces even still had phones on the desks. There were two such cubicles on the west-facing wall, with a hallway running the north/south length of the building that divided them from two center cubicles. Another north/south running hallway divided these two center cubicles from four, east-facing wall cubicles. The two north/south running hallways were linked by two more east/west running halls, one at the north side of the tower and one at the south. All these hallways formed a rectangular pattern connecting the cubicles. There was a large, locked storage closet at the southeast corner of this floor.

  “Have to check that out later,” Michael said. “Might be some useful stuff inside.”

  The tower’s exterior walls in this portion of the tower offered arched windows on all sides. And the ceiling on this level was higher than on previous levels, reaching in Michael’s best estimate, close to 14 feet.

  “Wonder what they used this space for?” Julia Justak pondered aloud as they wandered between the cubicles.

  “Maybe administrative or research purposes back when this place was a museum,” Caroline Trove offered with a shrug.

  “Could be,” Julia nodded. “Kind of creepy up here now, though,” she shivered.

  The group moved on, climbing ever higher into the towering edifice.

  The sixth floor, while open, was dark. Most of its windows had been boarded over. Like the third floor, a sole window on each side of the tower had been left uncovered to allow for ambient light. And the floor offered nothing unique in the way of potentially useable supplies. It was devoid of furnishings, cabinets, bathrooms, or anything else to break up the sweeping expanse of its concrete floor.

  “Not much to see here,” Patrick Trove mumbled.

  “Just as well,” his father nodded. “We’re getting u
p too high anyway to want to be making regular trips up here.” He looked at his son. “At least us old folks are,” he smiled.

  The seventh floor was pretty much the same as the sixth, except its windows weren’t covered. In this floor’s southeast corner however, an iron-rung ladder was built into the concrete. At the top of the ladder was a hatch.

  Patrick Trove took a minute to investigate, climbing the rungs and opening the hatch.

  “Opens to the roof,” he called from where only his legs were visible after he’d unlatched the hatch and moved his torso up through it. “Nothing much to see. Pretty much just a rooftop,” he called down to the group as they awaited his descent.

  “Make sure you get that hatch secured tightly,” his father called up to him. “By the looks of this place, we have some leaks already. We don’t want more moisture getting inside during a heavy rain or snowfall.”

  The concrete floor of the top level, as well as the ceiling itself, indeed showed signs of regular leakage. In the southeastern corner, there was still a large puddle of standing water now turned to ice.

  The top level of the tower offered amazing views out across the surrounding landscape. The group all took time to gaze across the river toward the mostly wooded southern approach. Toward the north, they could see all the way to Riverside, where the peaks of massive Victorian homes, the aged brick water tower, and the tops of the commercial buildings downtown were all visible.

  But the group was also presented with an ominous and far more sinister view. There was the rubble of the smashed river bridge, now filling, and damming in some spots, the Des Plaines River below them. There was the wreckage of the Mendoza and Hines’ vehicles. There were dead and dying biters sprinkled across the streets and parking area below. There were the still very much alive biters clustered around the base of the tower. And in every direction, spreading out across the rest of the city, there were innumerable plumes of black smoke rising into the sky.

  The group took a minute to absorb the totality of their situation before Julia Justak said, “I wonder how people in the rest of the city are faring?”

  “By the looks of all that smoke, probably not so great,” her husband responded quietly.

  “Wonder if there are any areas that have held out better than others…any safe zones?” Michael wondered aloud.

  “Any safer than this?” his wife Caroline asked.

  “I meant that had military or some sort of law enforcement protection,” Michael explained.

  “I have a bad feeling that the absence of any military units around here after they blew that bridge pretty much answers your question,” Josh said. “I think they’ve cleared out, which probably isn’t the worst idea. Trying to combat this mess from inside the city was probably becoming extremely difficult and dangerous for them. Urban combat, and the mixing of civilians and biters in the streets, was probably making it a real cluster. I’ll bet you anything they’ve pulled back, at least temporarily, to get a plan of attack together before they commit their remaining forces.”

  “They probably had to take account of casualties too,” Ms. Mary added. “You get a few soldiers in the ranks who have been bitten and don’t say anything, and you risk massive infection among your remaining healthy troops.”

  “Good point,” Michael nodded. “Let’s just pray they come back…and soon.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Okay folks, here’s the deal,” Michael addressed the group. “I know we’re all tired, cold, and hungry, but we’ve got a few more items on the to-do list before we can call it a day and get some food in us.”

  A sort of exhausted collective sigh ran through the group that was clustered together on the castle’s fourth floor.

  “I know, I know,” Michael nodded sympathetically, looking down at the floor and holding up a hand. “We’ve all had a long night and an even longer day. But bear with me. It’s for everyone’s benefit that we get this stuff nailed down before we try to get some rest.”

  He took a deep breath, running through a rapid mental checklist. At this point, his mind was blurred from a combination of hunger, exhaustion, and guilt-ridden visions of the Blenders he’d lost. He’d seen six of those he held dearest to him eaten alive in front of him. And with another four of the Hines family missing, he could only conclude that they were dead as well. He prayed they weren’t, but he had no illusions considering what he’d witnessed happen to Victoria and her daughter earlier that morning. And it was all due to his big idea, his grand plan, his foray into the unknown to get them all to safety. Boy had that ever blown up in his face. His actions had resulted in almost half his flock killed or missing.

  The thought made him want to go up upstairs and fling himself from the top of the tower. But that wouldn’t help anyone. Or would it? Considering the consequences of his decisions so far, maybe it would be for the best. Maybe the group would do better without him.

  But he couldn’t think that way now, not with all there was to do. He’d have time later for rehashing his thoughts, his emotions, his actions, and the consequences of those actions. The group had voted unanimously to escape Chicago. And it had done its best to do just that. He couldn’t plan for everything. He couldn’t control everything. And maybe he’d done a piss-poor job of keeping his people safe so far. But he could do his damnedest to keep them safe from here on out, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  “First, is anybody getting anything on their phones…any service whatsoever?”

  The group all replied that they weren’t.

  “Maybe later we can go back up to the top of the tower and see what we get,” Michael continued. “These thick concrete walls could be interfering or…” he let his sentence trail off, not wanting to finish his thought aloud.

  If cell service in the area was out, it boded poorly for how the rest of the world was faring outside Lyons.

  “But for now, we have bigger fish to fry, like getting a watch schedule set up. We’ll probably need to get our supplies to a higher level of the tower over the next few days, just in case any unwelcome visitors make their way inside, biters or otherwise. But we can deal with that later.”

  “So we’re planning on staying here for the time being?” Ms. Mary asked, hugging herself tightly and shivering against the cold.

  “I’m afraid I don’t see many other options,” Michael shrugged. “With the biters outside in the numbers they are, I don’t think it would be a good idea to attempt a breakout. We might be able to get to our vehicles, but then what? Leave all our supplies here and go home? Try to make it out of the city?”

  “Good luck,” Josh snorted. “We couldn’t even make it out of Lyons.”

  “Right,” Michael agreed. “And going back home would only have us leaving one stronghold to attempt surviving in less fortified positions. And that’s if we made it back in one piece. Whether we stay put, go home, go west, or go anywhere at this point, I think we’ll probably be in the same boat. This place,” he gestured around them at the massive bastion in which they sheltered, “well, it might be cold, dank, and dark, but these walls are strong and sturdy. And it’s easier to hold out here than a house with doors, windows, and that’s flammable. Plus, we have all our food and supplies here with us. So what good would going somewhere else really be at this point?”

  “So we just stay put and wait for help?” Christine Franko asked, somewhat hopefully.

  “Something like that,” Michael nodded. He took a long breath and exhaled heavily. “So back to the watch schedule. Manny and Margaret are holding things down for the moment. I think it’s best that we break into groups of two. That way if one person needs to use the restroom or run upstairs for help, the other can hold down the fort so to speak.”

  “No ‘so to speak’ about it,” Julia Justak piped up. “This is a fort…to hold down…literally.”

  “True,” Michael considered. “Plus, having two people means that there will be conversation, which will help them stay awake. I don’t want anyone
falling asleep at their post, which brings me to the duration of these watches. Any thoughts on that?”

  “How many pairs of watchers do we have?” Caroline asked. “We should just take a twenty-four hour period and divide it by the number of pairs, and we’ll have our watch duration.”

  “So there is Manny and Margaret,” Michael counted on a hand. “That’s one. You and me,” he gave a thin smile to his wife. “That’s two. Josh and Julia. That’s three. And then we have Ms. Mary, Christine, and Patrick. That’s four and a half. Maybe we can have one person rotate in and out of the mix on an as-need basis.”

  “Don’t forget us,” Jack Franko spoke up, putting his arm around his brother. “That’s five and a half.”

  “And me!” Justin Justak said, wide-eyed. “That would make six!”

  “No offense, boys, but I’m holding you in reserve for other duties.”

  “Aww,” the two brothers and Justin all groaned in unison.

  “We need your young energy elsewhere. Let the old folks sit down there on boring watch duty. We need the rest,” Michael tried to placate the boys’ young egos. He knew they wanted to help and would be disappointed with not being able to assist with the adult duties. “And who knows, if some of the adults are needed elsewhere, we might have you pair up with an adult to serve as a watch duty runner.”

  “Okay,” the boys nodded eagerly, perking up at the mention that they might be involved in the defense of the citadel.

  “So we have four pairs. That means six-hour shifts.” He looked at his watch. “It’s a little past noon right now. We’ll leave Manny and Margaret on until six. It’s a little long, but they’re young. Who wants the six to midnight shift?”

  “I’m fine with that if you are, Christine,” Ms. Mary gave Christine Franko a raised eyebrow. “Unless someone else wants it.”

  No one else spoke up.

  “Sure, why not?” Christine shrugged. “That shift is as good as any for me.”