by SD Tanner
Letting go of the dead woman’s hand, Wolfie said loudly, “Oh, thank God.”
Doc placed the baby on another table and began to wipe the blood from its tiny torso. Walking a little closer, he peered over at the infant that was still complaining about its mistreatment. While Doc continued to clean the baby, he noticed it had faint lines of black on its arms and chest. Leaning in to inspect the baby even more closely, he stepped back in surprise. He knew the pattern of the markings well.
Looking at Ip, he asked, “Why does the baby have your markings?”
Since Ip died and was reborn into another body, she’d evolved into what she called her ‘real self’. Now she had a soft ridge that ran from the back of her hands, up her arms and down her spine. Lightly traced around the ridge, were blue black lines forming a delicate pattern that also covered the front of one shoulder, the line of her neck, and finished at her right cheekbone. Ip didn’t answer his question, but she smiled at the baby. Reaching out her hand, she gently stroked the baby’s damp cheek, and seemingly soothed by her touch, the baby stopped wailing and became content.
Ip speaks: It is the one we know so well. He is here again and happy as well.
I dunno this baby, honey, he thought. Still ignoring him, she scooped the baby in her arms, and holding it gently, she kissed its forehead. Lovingly cradling the calm infant, she looked up at him with a happy smile.
Ip speaks: You are so stupid, I cannot defend. Yourself is here and still you pretend.
He didn’t understand her answer. “Some days it’s hard to tell who’s more stupid than who.” Turning away from Ip, he flicked his head to catch Wolfie’s attention. “Is this your baby?”
Wolfie shook his head. “No, it’s Ant’s baby. She was captured by the Black Army and sent to Ruler’s camp. She managed to escape by hiding in a truck full of rottin’ corpses, but she must have caught an infection. Doc managed to keep her alive long enough for the baby to be born safely.”
While he continued to examine the now contented infant in Ip’s arms, in a distracted voice, Doc said, “She was determined to hang on for as long as she could for the baby’s sake and he looks healthy. Looks to be a good weight and he’s got good reflexes.”
One of Doc’s nurses took the baby from Ip, but she continued to watch intently while the nurse began to clean him thoroughly with a wet sponge. Ip had almost no patience for Lydia’s baby, and he wondered why she was so interested in this one, but he didn’t feel like being called stupid again, so he decided not to ask. He was learning that although he and Ip could now communicate, he often didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. In many ways, she was as much a mystery to him now as she was the first day he’d met her, but he didn’t worry about it. He loved her and she loved him, and he figured that’s all he really needed to know.
Looking over at Wolfie, he thought he looked tired. “We need to talk, but we can do it later.”
Wolfie shook his head. “Nah, I could do with the distraction, and I need to talk to you as well.”
With a final glance at Ip and the baby, he left with Wolfie to find the rest of the team and brief them on recent events.
“You seem pretty upset considering you didn’t really know the woman.”
“She reminded me of my wife, Nancy. It just brought it all home to me. How many people we’ve lost. I guess I haven’t really accepted that I lost my whole family.”
Walking into the building used as a cafeteria, recreation and meeting area, he nodded and said, “I’ve been lucky that way. I’ve still got my brothers and Mom and Pop. Plus I guess I found myself a wife too. Though she does have a habit of dyin’ on me.”
Weaving their way around the tables in the cafeteria, they reached the meeting room and found Jackson, Pax, TL, Mackenzie, and another of Wolfie’s main team leaders called Kent. Once they were seated in the meeting room, he briefed Wolfie and his guys about their plans to recon New York and transport survivors to the Isle of Wight. Wolfie knew Ruler’s camp in Hopkinsville was destroyed, but he was still keen to get his people off the mainland. Everyone agreed that Ruler wasn’t defeated, and no one had any doubt he would soon re-establish himself. He told Wolfie to make contact with Kat to organize transport, and he agreed to maintain his base as a site for their combat shooters and scavengers.
“People won’t like that, Wolfie,” Jackson said grimly. “They’’ve got families here. You’re gonna be breaking up families.”
Giving Jackson a stern look, he said firmly, “We’re at war. Families will be split up. It’s the way it has to be to keep their loved ones safe.”
Wolfie nodded in agreement. “I think our people know the deal. They’ll do what they have to do to take care of their families in the short and long term.”
“How sure are you that the UK can be made safe?” Kent asked.
He shook his head and replied honestly, “No more sure than I was when we first set up the bases, but I’ve been there and it’s safer there than it is here, and I understand the Isle of Wight is an island. It had a small population which means most of the hunters have starved.”
“Anywhere is safer than here,” TL muttered miserably.
Giving his brother a hard look, he said bluntly, “And we’re gonna be doin’ somethin’ about that, TL. There’s no need for ya bellyachin’.”
At that point, the rest of the meeting dissolved into various inconclusive discussions about what Ruler was doing and how they might handle it. The meeting ended the way he expected it to. Wolfie promised to keep his best scavengers and combat shooters and make sure they were ready to fight. During the discussion, Wolfie and his men agreed to step up their training, and they promised to keep their combat shooters, equipment and supplies on standby. It was a good meeting and he was satisfied he had the support of Wolfie and his people. After the meeting, they ate dinner in the cafeteria, and then retired to one of the trailers on the island for the night to get ready to leave for New York in the morning.
He planned to have Hatch take them to the outskirts of Union City where they would walk towards the river. If they walked around the area, he hoped to find local survivors who could give them information about what Ruler had done. He needed to know the current state of play and a safe way into Manhattan. Given how well people managed to hide and survive since the outbreak of the virus, he was optimistic they’d gain some useful intelligence before they entered the city. He planned to leave the combat shooters with Hatch to protect the bird, plus he wanted them to stay alert just in case he needed to call for a fast extract. Benny was meeting them at the rendezvous point in Union City just in case he needed to bring vehicles into the city. The way he figured it, he had as much back up as he was going to get for an undercover mission. None of them had much experience with covert operations, so they would all be flying by the seat of their pants.
Sitting in the trailer with Ip and his brothers after dinner, he watched her as she lovingly polished the silver blade of her sword. The sword was etched with the same pattern as the markings on her body, and it reminded him about Ant’s baby.
Still watching Ip, he asked, “Wolfie’s baby has the same markings as Ip. How the hell is that possible?”
Pax glanced over at him and said, “There must be a connection.” Then smirking, he added, “You think that’s weird? You should check this out.”
Standing up in the small trailer, Pax unbuttoned the first few buttons of his ACU shirt and dragged it up over his head. Throwing the shirt on the seat behind him, while still wearing his short-sleeved t-shirt, he faced him and said, “Notice anythin’ different.”
He looked his brother firmly in the eye. “Nah, you’re still ugly.”
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Pax held his forearms out in front of him. “Look at my arms, dumbass.”
Peering at his meaty forearms, he tried to ignore the fuzzy light body hair that covered them. “What about ‘em?”
He shoved his arm under his face. “Look closer, bro’.”
“Exactly!” Pax exclaimed triumphantly.
TL was ignoring them, but now he sat forward in his chair, and stretching his arm across the narrow trailer, he grabbed Pax by the forearm. “Did you catch something nasty from Ip?”
“Don’t be stupid. If anyone was gonna catch anythin’ from Ip, it would be Gears. He’s the one gettin’ up close and personal with her, not me.”
He didn’t understand what he was looking at. Under the hair covering Pax’s arm were faint traces of the same pattern he’d seen on Ip, her sword and the baby. It didn’t make sense. Pax was developing the same markings as Ip.
“Whatdaya think it means?”
“Dunno, ask Ip.”
They all turned to look at Ip, who stared back at them with disinterest and then she sighed deeply. “It is yourself who rules you true. It is time to become you.”
Rolling his eyes, TL said morosely, “Yeah, well, she makes as little sense as she ever does.” Looking across at him, he added, “I dunno how you can be with a woman who never makes any sense.”
Pax roared with laughter and in a tone of disbelief, he asked, “Do women ever make any sense to you, TL?”
He didn’t disagree with Pax, but he said, “She makes more sense that you do, Pax.”
“Nah, she doesn’t, Gears, but she does come with other benefits.”
The tattoos were a mystery, but they weren’t going to get any answers that night. Deciding, although he didn’t really understand Ip, she was better company than Pax and it was time they went to bed. He was both excited and anxious about their mission to New York. It felt like a decisive move, and despite the likely danger, he was keen for any opportunity to confront Ruler.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Heaven divided (Max)
Stepping into the small combined lounge and kitchen in the trailer home, she was hit by the overpowering stench of fresh paint. It was one of those acrid odors that was initially appealing, but ultimately made her feel nauseous. Pop and his team were restoring the trailer homes that were damaged during the attack on the Ranch. She looked around the small room and saw they’d done a pretty good job of making the place look habitable again. There were mismatched curtains hanging from the windows, and the sofa was only slightly damaged. Wanting to dilute the odor of the fresh paint, she walked from room to room opening all of the windows, hoping some fresh air would mean she could sleep comfortably for the night. The main house at the Ranch looked to be in reasonable shape. Although all the windows were broken and the doors torn from their hinges, it did appear to be structurally intact. She hoped the damage was largely cosmetic, and the house would be habitable again soon.
The main house at the Ranch was always the heart of the property, and like many, she’d come to think of the Ranch as her home. It was a simple two-story house, with a generous front veranda that overlooked the horse stables and paddock. Given she’d barely spent any time there, it didn’t make sense it felt like home, but knowing the Ranch stood proud always filled her with hope. Seeing the house was still there, and looked much as it always had, filled her with a sense of promise that all would one day be well again.
It wasn’t the main house that was the problem. Dotted around the surrounding land were lumps of rotting hunter corpses, and she wondered which odor she preferred less. They would need to use tractors, backhoes and shovels to move the hundreds of fly-infested bodies. Looking to the right of the house, she saw the skeletal remains of the greenhouses. Such a waste, she thought. They’d used the greenhouses to grow desperately needed food, and rebuilding them would take a lot of work. The barns and stables were also intact, but all the animals were long gone, and the buildings were riddled with bullet holes. The place looked utterly dead to her and she was disappointed.
Stroking her clearly pregnant belly, she remembered Mom was surprised that she could only be around five months pregnant, and she’d discreetly asked if it was possible it wasn’t Mackenzie’s baby. She’d politely confirmed it wasn’t possible. She hadn’t been with another man in quite some time, so Mackenzie was definitely the father. Having read the pregnancy books she and Mackenzie took from the library near their hideaway in the hills, even she knew her pregnancy was far too advanced. Not willing to ask Farrington, and wishing she could ask Lydia, she wondered what it might mean for the baby. Mackenzie was infected with the designer virus and she wasn’t entirely sure what that might mean for their unborn child. Was it possible the baby was also infected? Maybe that was affecting its speed of development. Worried though she was, she already decided no matter what she gave birth to, she would be its mother. Stepping carefully down the three steps from the trailer, she walked across to the main house where Mom and Pop were talking.
Mom had Lydia’s baby strapped to her chest in a baby carrier and she asked, “Would you like me to take him?”
“No, honey, I’m fine. We’re just discussing how long it will take to make the house livable again.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a look inside.”
“It’s still a mess in there, but okay,” Pop replied.
Together the three of them walked into the house through the garage, and standing at the door, she saw the large lounge and kitchen area was all but destroyed. Bullets had torn through almost everything in the room. Not a single cupboard in the kitchen remained intact, and the stove had deep holes where bullets had cut through the metal, leaving angry looking jagged tears. The furniture had fared even worse and was nothing more than tattered remnants with chunks of wood and fabric missing. Although they’d removed the hunter corpses, bits of flesh still clung to the floor and pieces of furniture, and the smell of rotting flesh floated in on the breeze and wafted through the shattered windows and doors. Feeling her hope draining, she decided it was a dismal sight and smell. Not wanting to dwell on their losses, she optimistically decided, that although the fixtures, fitting and furniture were all badly damaged, the walls, ceiling and floor looked to be intact.
Walking further into the room, she looked up at the flight of stairs that led to the top floor. The wooden steps and bannister were also pitted with bullet holes, and pieces of splintered wood made it impossible to use the handrail.
Mom cautioned her and said, “Be careful, honey, don’t slip.”
She felt Pop’s presence behind her, and she knew he was ready to catch her if she fell. Smiling to herself at his thoughtfulness, she walked onto the landing, and every solid wooden door leading into the rooms was scarred with claw marks and more bullet holes. Some of the damage was so severe she could see into the room through the holes in the door. On the landing were large smears of dark brown stains which she recognized were dried blood. Clearly the battle had been fierce and people had died where she now stood.
Sighing, she walked into what must have once been one of the main bedrooms. Here she saw another larger brown stain where someone obviously bled heavily onto the floor at her feet. The double bed was pushed against a window, and judging from its position, was used to barricade it. Now, the bed was lying on its side, slumped against the wall. The striped mattress cover was torn, and she could see white fluff and coils inside it, obviously the mattress had been ripped apart by repeated gunfire. No use against bullets, she thought, but I suppose if it covered the window then their enemy couldn’t see them.
Pop was still behind her and she turned to look at him. “They fought hard.”
With a resigned look, Pop nodded. “Yeah, they did, but it didn’t help ‘em.”
“Don’t be so miserable, George,” Mom said, as she walked into the room. She stroked the sleeping baby through the carrier where he was snuggled against her chest. “This little one made it and that’s what they were fighting for.”
“I s’pose.” His face brightened. “But they didn’t get it all.”
She and Mom followed him downstairs and back into the kitchen, where he pulled open the d
oor in the floor that led to the underground bunker. Turning to them with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “They never found the bunker.”
Frowning, Mom asked, “Then why didn’t they all just stay in the bunker?”
“Because the enemy might have found the bunker and then they would have been trapped.”
Sighing, Mom looked down the stairs that led to the bunker. “If they’d put Lydia in the bunker, maybe she would have survived.”
She shook her head. “Once the bullets are flying, it’s not as easy as it looks. Combat is isn’t like the movies, Mom.
Pop had clearly already been in the bunker and got the power and water working, and flicking the light switch, the stairs and entrance into the bunker flooded with light. Leading the way, he guided them both down the stairs into the underground living area. It was a house under a house and untouched by the violence and anger that took place above ground. She could hear the generator humming, and walking into the kitchen area, she heard Mom say. “This is perfect. We can stay down here.”
“But we spent two days getting the trailers ready for you.”
Mom fixed him with a stern look. “I don’t care, honey. I have an infant and a pregnant woman to keep safe and this is the safest place here.”
Pop sighed. “I s’pose. I guess the trailers will give the work crews somewhere better to sleep.”
Tuning them out, she looked at a colorful blanket lying in a crumpled heap on the floor and wondered who’d left it there. Other than the untidy blanket, the underground bunker was in immaculate condition. Despite the lack of windows, she decided she preferred it to the trailer surrounded by hunter corpses, and as an added bonus, the processed air inside the bunker was fresher than anywhere else on the Ranch.