The Last Bastion [Book 3]

by K. W. Callahan

  K.W. CALLAHAN

  THE LAST BASTION

  BOOK 3

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Text and image copyright © 2018 K.W. Callahan

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Callahan, K.W.

  The Last Bastion - Book 3 / K.W. Callahan

  ISBN: 1-720-39580-2

  BOOKS BY K.W. CALLAHAN

  THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: DOWNFALL

  THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: QUEST

  THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: DESCENT

  THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: FORSAKEN

  THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: ASCENSION

  AFTERMATH: PARTS I-III

  THE M.O.D. FILES: THE CASE OF THE GUEST WHO STAYED OVER

  THE M.O.D. FILES: THE CASE OF THE LINEN PRESSED GUEST

  PALOS HEIGHTS

  PANDEMIC DIARY: SHELTER IN PLACE

  PANDEMIC DIARY: FLEE ON FOOT

  PANDEMIC DIARY: PANDEMIC PIONEERS

  THE FIFTH PHASE: BOOKS 1 - 5

  THE LAST BASTION: BOOKS 1 – 5

  THE LAST BASTION

  BOOK 3

  CHAPTER 1

  Charla and Chris had watched the firefight at the tower across the parking lot from their condo building with horrified interest.

  Even Charla’s husband Wendell managed to pry himself from his position on the sofa to watch the excitement.

  “Good lord…what are those people doing?” Charla pondered aloud. “Why are they attacking the tower? I thought they were there to help…you know, clear the biters and assist the people inside. But now it looks like they’re storming the tower. Look! That guy that went inside just got shot! He’s crawling back out the front door!”

  “Maybe they were trying to help. Maybe the people in the tower shot at them, not vice versa,” Wendell offered. “You said the one guy that just went in got shot by someone inside.”

  “Now what kind of sense does that make?” Charla shook her head. “Why would the people in the tower shoot at the people trying to help them?”

  “Maybe it was a misunderstanding,” Wendell shrugged.

  “Bad misunderstanding for that guy,” Chris said as another of the men storming the tower went down and lay motionless where he fell at the tower’s entrance.

  “If nothing else, and no matter who wins the gun battle taking place out there, at least they’re clearing a bunch of the biters,” Wendell noted.

  “As long as those people storming the tower don’t come for us next,” Charla said.

  “Too bad we can’t hire them out to come over here and clear out our biters for us,” Chris said.

  “Would they stop at that, though?” Wendell frowned.

  The three continued to watch the fight unfold across from them, the newly arrived force finally pushing their way inside the tower.

  That was when the event suddenly became much less interesting.

  “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the outcome will be,” Chris said.

  “Does it really matter?” Wendell huffed as he headed back to the sofa.

  “It might,” Charla said. “I mean, if the people inside the tower would have been willing to help us, our one option for assistance might have just disappeared.”

  Charla and Chris stood at the sixth-floor condo’s balcony door for another minute, watching and waiting. But it soon became evident that the rest of the fight would unfold behind Hofmann Tower’s thick walls.

  Surprisingly, Wendell was the first one to notice that the knocking noises from the biters pounding against their condo entry door had stopped.

  Charla and Chris were so enthralled with the firefight and discussing its potential outcome that they were paying no attention. The sounds of the biters in the hallway attempting to punch their way through the door had gone on for so long, it had almost become second nature.

  The former humans (commonly referred to as “biters” among the non-infected), turned razor-teethed, flesh-craving beasts by the Carchar Syndrome sweeping its way around the globe, had kept the trio trapped inside Charla and Wendell’s condo for the past several days. During this time, Chris, their ruggedly handsome neighbor, had become their trapped house guest much to Wendell’s chagrin. And now, lacking utility services, running low on food, and with no apparent help on the way, the three were weighing their options.

  “Shhhh!” Wendell hissed suddenly, putting up a hand, index finger raised. “Listen!”

  Both Charla and Chris did as instructed.

  “What? I don’t hear anything,” Charla frowned at her husband.

  Wendell kept his hand up, his head cocked to one side.

  “Hear that?” he said at last.

  “Hear what?” asked Chris.

  “Exactly,” Wendell nodded.

  “What in God’s name are you talking about?” Charla huffed in exasperation. “Stop with the silly games and…”

  “The biters trying to get in the front door,” Wendell interrupted.

  Charla and Chris both turned to look at the condo’s barricaded front entrance.

  “You’re right,” Chris breathed. “They’ve stopped.”

  “I wonder if all the shooting over there has drawn their attention,” Charla nodded toward the tower. “I saw some biters moving across the parking lot when the guys attacking the tower arrived. I wonder if those were our biters…the ones that were out in our hallway I mean. Maybe the shooting drew them downstairs.”

  “And maybe those armed people out there killed them,” Chris said hopefully. “This could be our chance.”

  “Yes, but our chance for what?” Wendell stared at them.

  They pondered the idea in silence for a moment. Suddenly they heard the sound of engines out in the parking lot. The trio gathered by the balcony’s glass door again. Looking outside, they could see men running from the tower and jumping into the vehicles in which they’d arrived.

  “Looks like the people in the tower held out,” Chris said.

  “We could give it a shot and try to make it over there. I don’t see any more biters around the tower at the moment,” Charla said.

  “But what if the people in the tower think we’re more of the people they just fought off?” Wendell shook his head. “They’d shoot us before we even had a chance to explain what we’re trying to do.”

  “I don’t know about you, but at this point, I think I’d take the chance. I’d rather be shot than eaten by a biter,” Charla said.

  “Or become one,” Chris added.

  “Or that,” Charla agreed.

  “Even if we don’t make it over there, we could try to at least make it down the hall to your condo,” Charla looked at Chris.

  “Yeah, we could load up our packs with as many supplies as we can carry from my place, and bring them back here,” Chris nodded.

  “Or you could just go back over there,” Wendell murmured to Chris under his breath.

  “We’re all in this together now,” Charla patiently reminded her husband.

  “If we’re going to do this, we should act fast,” Chris said. “No telling if other biters are on their way. We might only have a few minutes before they return.”

  Chris and Charla sprung into action as Wendell watched with a mild look of disgust smeared across his face. It was obvious he was not thrilled about the prospects of leaving the safety of their condo to go foraging. But he also didn’t trust leaving Charla with Chris.

  What if Wendell got separated from Charla? What if Chris and Charla became trapped by biters in Chr
is’ condo while Wendell was left behind? Left to their own devices, and with nothing but time on their hands in an already tense situation, they might look for certain activities that would relieve some of that tension.

  Wendell seethed at the thought. Plus, he didn’t want to appear less of a man by not accompanying his wife, even though he thought the whole idea of leaving their condo a sort of fool’s errand. The last time they’d tried it, they’d almost been overwhelmed by the biters in the hallway. And now, Chris and Charla were making some large assumptions. They were assuming the biters had left their hall. But what if the biters just moved to another condo on their floor? The sound of the gunfire outside might have drawn them to a window, just as it had Chris and Charla. Trying to make it to Chris’ condo could have them encountering the same biters that had been out there before.

  Wendell shook his head, breathing heavily through his nose at the thoughts swimming in his head. But he knew it would do no good to voice his concerns. He was sure that his pleas for common sense to prevail would be overruled by the daring duo of Chris and his wife. It seemed like the more time they spent together, the less common sense they exhibited.

  Chris was a bad influence. While it wouldn’t get him and Charla out of this apocalyptic dilemma they were in, if Wendell could just rid himself of Chris, he might at least have a chance of getting his wife back.

  “Here,” Charla handed Wendell a pack pre-loaded with supplies. “We’ll take a couple empty bags with us to load with extra stuff,” she handed him several cloth shopping bags she’d found below their kitchen sink.

  They all took a minute to don the last bit of winter gear they weren’t already wearing to keep warm. Their layers of heavy coats and thick gloves served a dual purpose, not only keeping them warm but covering exposed skin from biter attack.

  “Okay,” Chris took one of the kitchen knives for defense. The others followed suit. “Let’s make this quick. First order of business will be to determine if in fact the biters are gone. If they are, we make a bee-line for my condo, grab as much stuff as we can, and then we’ll make a call as to whether to try to make it to the tower or stay put.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Charla agreed.

  “Why don’t we just close the stairwell door at the end of the hallway and be done with it?” Wendell tried to be the voice of reason. “That will keep the biters off our floor.”

  “Good idea,” Chris nodded. “I’ll do that while you guys start loading up supplies from my place. Then I’ll meet up with you.”

  Finally, Wendell felt some slight vindication. Someone was actually listening to what he had to say about their predicament.

  “Closing that stairwell door will buy us time to get more stuff,” Chris went on. “And it’ll let us make a better decision about whether we should take a shot at getting to the tower.”

  It wasn’t exactly what Wendell wanted to hear. He really had no desire to go to the tower. It was cold and uncomfortable enough in the privacy of their own condo. He could only imagine what it would be like in that looming stone bastion across from them. The place was a century old, and it hadn’t been occupied or used for anything since they’d moved into their condo years ago. He could only imagine the state of its interior. Plus, having to live with Chris was bad enough. But now he might face not only not ditching Chris, but potentially having to cohabitate with even more new people.

  It seemed to Wendell that no matter what he did, his situation was only going to become worse. But what option did he really have? Charla appeared enamored with this Chris character. And Wendell seemed unable to break the spell Chris had cast over his wife.

  “Okay…is everybody ready?” Chris asked as he shouldered his pack and held his knife out in front of him at the ready.

  “Yes,” Charla nodded, gripping her own knife tightly in hand.

  “Guess so,” Wendell muttered, having armed himself with a large butcher knife.

  Chris maneuvered the furniture acting as their front door barricade until he created enough room to squeeze through. Then he peered through the peephole out into the darkened hallway.

  “Looks clear,” he whispered. “And I don’t hear anything. Let’s give it a shot.”

  Chris moved to one side of the door, unlocked it, slowly opened it, and poked his head out. After taking another few seconds to scan the area outside, Chris opened the door enough to squeeze out into the hallway.

  Wendell followed him out, and Charla brought up the rear, closing the condo door behind her and ensuring that it latched. She didn’t want to return from their scavenging mission only to find biters having infested their condo. But she didn’t worry about locking the door since biters were unable to work even simple contraptions like doorknobs with latches.

  Charla and Wendell crept forward toward Chris’ condo, circumventing the scattered, and mostly consumed, remains of their neighbor, Paul Richardson. Meanwhile, Chris hurried down the hall to secure the open stairwell door.

  They had just made it to Chris’ condo door when they heard a commotion at the end of the hall. Turning, they could make out a form lurching from the darkened stairwell just as Chris reached out to close its door. It tackled Chris, taking him down to the floor where the two struggled in a heap, the dark form having landed atop Chris.

  “Get inside,” Wendell hissed to Charla. “Close the door, but don’t lock it.”

  “Okay,” she ducked inside and shut the door behind her.

  Once Charla was safely inside Chris’ condo, Wendell started down the hall toward where Chris was fighting for his life with what appeared to be a sizeable biter. Wendell held his knife at the ready. But as he neared the two combatants, his pace slowed. The thought struck him suddenly. This was his chance! His chance to be free from Chris! And he really didn’t have to do anything that conflicted with his moral compass to achieve this goal. All he had to do was let the biter have his way with Chris. Then he could go back and tell Charla he hadn’t been able to save their ruggedly handsome neighbor with the rock-hard biceps and chiseled abs. It would be a lie – sort of. But even if Wendell got involved, he still might not be able to stop the hulking, snarling, snapping, drooling beast currently atop Chris. He could stab it with his knife, but getting in that close could put him in danger of being bitten as well.

  Wendell stood, staring at the two, still tight in the grips of their life and death struggle. The sheer size of the biter atop Chris appeared to be helping it get the upper hand.

  Wendell stared at a dark object on the floor several feet from the two. It was the knife that Chris had been carrying. When Chris and the biter had hit the floor, the impact must have jarred Chris’ arm, causing him to loose his grip on the knife. Worse yet, for Chris at least, the way in which the biter had fallen atop him had pinned Chris’ arm nearest the knife beneath the overhanging chub of the biter’s belly.

  Wendell knew he had to make a decision. Or did he?

  But he couldn’t just let Chris be eaten by the biter. Or could he?

  What if the biter only infected Chris and didn’t kill him? Then they’d be trapped on their floor with the tubby biter and the Chris biter. Whereas if he helped Chris out of this predicament, and they got the stairwell door secured, there’d be no biters at all on their floor and they’d be safe, at least temporarily.

  Wendell found himself wedged between a rock and a hard place. He could be stuck with Chris or be stuck with biters. Neither option appealed to him.

  Wendell could hear Chris’ frantic breaths coming in short bursts as his strength began to fail. The weight of the biter was obviously crushing the fight from him. He had seconds left at best, and Wendell knew it. It was Wendell’s chance finally to be rid of the man who was competing for his wife’s attention. And Wendell wouldn’t have to lift a finger to further his demise.

  Chapter 2

  “Cheryl”. The name floated dreamlike somewhere deep within the cerebral crevices of her mind. It held only a vague, string-like connection to a life she once
knew – a life to which she could now attach nothing of any significance. But the person once known as “Cheryl”, now turned biter, felt glad she had found her companion – a former metal scrapper turned biter, once known as “Victor”. This strong, intelligent, dark-skinned male was proving to be an incredible partner in a world that was still extremely confusing and very frightening to Cheryl.

  In fact, Victor was now leading a herd of over a dozen biters who had gravitated to him due to his leadership skills. These skills made it easier for those in his herd to survive in the new world into which they’d been unexpectedly thrust. And Victor was teaching them more each day. His prowess at educating his followers was drawing more like them into his rapidly expanding herd. Four new arrivals had joined them since yesterday.

  But Victor was selective. He didn’t let just any wandering biter into his ranks. Instead, he chose the ones that were the fastest, the strongest, the smartest, and the best at hunting the prey that provided not just the food that sustained them but furthered the spread the Carchar Syndrome.

  Cheryl wasn’t sure how Victor knew what he knew, but something about him made him different from others like them. Victor knew things that the others didn’t. More importantly, he was teaching Cheryl and the others the things he knew. In the process, he was also keeping them safe, warm, and well fed.

  Victor was anxious to try something he’d been contemplating. He wanted to enter one of the large boxes in which their prey lived. He had been observing their prey entering and leaving these boxes, and he wanted to attempt what he’d seen them do to gain access.

  Victor had selected a large house in Riverside (although his biter brain had no comprehension that this was the name of the suburb) as his target. He had guided his herd to its garage for the night, watching the home for signs of life inside. He decided that if there were any of their prey sheltering in the home, he would look for another target. But as he watched and listened throughout the night, he had detected no signs of life within.