The Last Bastion [Book 3]

by K. W. Callahan

  “Why’d we stop the shooting?” Patrick asked his father. “We were really giving it to those biters.”

  “We’ll get to that once everyone is here,” Michael said and then waited for another minute while people found spots to sit or stand.

  “First off,” he began once everyone was settled, “I’d like to take a minute to formally introduce our new arrivals. This is Chris, Charla, and Wendell.”

  The three newcomers nodded their greetings toward the rest of the group, and the rest of the group returned their salutations.

  “If we could just go around the room and make quick introductions. I’m sure you’ll get to know everyone soon enough,” he added with a nod toward the three who sat together at one side of the space. “But this will at least help you get started putting names with faces.”

  After the other Blenders had introduced themselves and noted relevant relationships to others inside the tower, Michael continued the meeting.

  “I’m sure some of you are wondering why we’ve stopped killing the biters outside.”

  There came a combination of nods and murmurs of confirmation from the Blenders that this was indeed the case.

  “Personally, I don’t see any sense in continuing to kill these things.”

  “Why the hell not?” Manny Simpson shook his head. “They’re trying to kill us. Why not return the favor?”

  “Several reasons,” Michael went on. “It seems like the sound of our firing…” he was interrupted by a loud bang outside as one of the biters knocked hard into the entry barricade. Everyone looked toward the barricade, which appeared undamaged by the collision.

  “They’re getting feisty out there,” Ms. Mary noted.

  “Anyway,” Michael went on, “it seems like the sound of our firing is only drawing more biters. Pretty soon we’ll be out of ammo from trying to kill Chicago’s entire biter population. Then we won’t have any bullets for when we might really need them.”

  “Maybe we can start killing them in other ways,” Josh offered. “I saw you drive that one back with the screwdriver through the firing port. We could make some spears and other weapons and start stabbing them through the holes we made. It might not kill them, but it could injure them enough that they decide to look elsewhere for their meals.”

  “I thought of that,” Michael nodded. “But the dead are already piling up outside. We keep killing them, and pretty soon we’ll find ourselves buried under piles of decaying bodies. That might not be a problem right now with it being winter because the bodies will freeze. But if we’re forced to remain here until the temperatures start to rise, those decaying bodies could pose a real problem due to the smell and the unsanitary conditions they present.”

  “That’s a good point,” Ms. Mary agreed. “I hadn’t thought about that. A couple warm days come along, and it’s going to start stinking to high heaven. You should smell my mulch pile back home when I turn it in early spring. Woo wee!” she waved a hand in front of her nose. “I add fish emulsion to it, and my god, you’d think someone had died in there! I can only imagine what it will smell like when those carcasses out there start to decompose. We’re going to be in for it.”

  “All good points,” Christine Franko nodded. “Maybe the biters are like kids…if we ignore them long enough, they’ll just find something else to do or wander off somewhere,” she grinned at her own two boys sweetly. They feigned twisted faces of disgust at her in return.

  The group laughed – at least the parents did.

  “So that means we’re going to have to live with those…those things just lurking outside all the time?” Julia Justak asked with a grimace.

  “They’re going to be out there regardless,” Caroline Trove shrugged. “Might as well get used to them sooner than later…as long as they don’t get in here.”

  “That’s the other thing I want to discuss,” Michael said. “If we’re going to have all those biters out there, we’re going to have to keep a good eye on our entry defense barriers. I know the biters are pretty useless when it comes to getting inside a structure, especially one like this, but the sheer bulk of their numbers could overwhelm our barricades. All that weight, pushing, and banging could act to loosen things, force stuff out of place, and generally weaken the barricade. And with that many biters out there, if one or two manage to get through, it wouldn’t take long for them all to get inside the tower. It would be a flood, and then we’d be…well, we’d be up shit creek.”

  “So that means whoever is down here on watch duty has to be super observant then,” Margaret Simpson said.

  “Right,” Michael nodded. “Even if it just seems like minor damage to the barricade. It’s important either to fix the problem or report it to someone who can fix it as soon as possible so the crack in the dam doesn’t lead to an all out failure.” Michael looked around him at the others. “Any questions?”

  After a moment of silence, he said exhaustedly, and somewhat sarcastically, “Okay then. Let’s get this place cleaned up and back into shape after our morning of fun. Caroline, would you take Chris, Charla, and Wendell upstairs, show them the lay of the land, and get them settled in?”

  “Sure thing,” Caroline nodded.

  Michael was exhausted and felt like he hadn’t relaxed or had a good night’s sleep in days, which he hadn’t. But he was quickly coming to the realization that this was his new life, all their new lives. And the sooner they began to get some sort of routine to their days, the sooner they would begin to put some semblance of normalcy to what was fast becoming anything but a normal world.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the day was spent cleaning up the tower after the firefights both with the outsiders earlier that morning as well as with the biters, hoards of whom still remained clustered around the base of the tower outside.

  Michael and Patrick finished knocking a few extra firing ports in the tower’s lower level brick walls.

  “That ought to do it,” Michael nodded approvingly as Patrick blew the last bit of brick dust and mortar from inside the hole and then quickly peeked through at the biters just feet from them on the other side of the wall.

  “Uh,” Patrick exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I haven’t worked this hard in a long time.”

  “Good for ya!” his father slapped him on the shoulder heartily. “Get the old blood pumping.” After a moment, he added, “Although I could certainly do without the reasons behind our efforts.”

  “Yeah, but Dad, we really let those biters have it today, didn’t we?” Patrick smiled.

  Michael shook his head. “Son, don’t enjoy this. None of us should enjoy it.”

  Patrick sobered with his father’s comments.

  “I know it’s easy…easy to look at this as some sort of video game or movie where we’re just blasting away at senseless beings,” his father went on. “But those are humans out there…or at least they used to be. Maybe they still are in some way. I don’t know. Not long ago, they were just like you and me. It’s one thing to kill them, but it’s another thing to enjoy it. Don’t ever enjoy it. Then you’re just as bad as they are…just as senseless and violent.”

  Patrick nodded. “Your right, Dad. You’re right. I get it.”

  “But you did good today,” his dad smiled at him approvingly and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Patrick said, almost sounding surprised at his father’s praise.

  “Come over here and take a load off,” Michael guided Patrick over to the office near the back corner of the first floor.

  Patrick limped along with him, nursing his injured leg.

  Michael helped his son down into a chair set before the desk and then plopped down in a swivel chair opposite him behind the desk, facing his son.

  “How’s that leg?” Michael asked.

  “I think it looks worse than it is…but don’t tell the others,” he grinned at his father. “I like getting the sympathy vote. They treat me like some kind of war
hero with this injury,” he smiled sheepishly.

  Michael looked at his watch. “We’ll need to start dinner soon. But we deserve a little break first.”

  “You said it,” Patrick agreed, propping his uninjured leg up on the desktop. “Ah,” he grimaced as the move put pressure on his bad leg.

  “You okay?” his dad eyed him.

  “I’m fine,” his son waved the inquiry away.

  This time it was Michael’s turn to heave a huge sigh. “What a mess this is,” he shook his head.

  “What? The office? Our being stuck in the tower? The biters outside?” Patrick frowned.

  “All of the above,” Michael snorted. “This whole damn thing,” he gestured around him. “The world as it stands now. The world that’s apparently falling apart around us.”

  Patrick nodded but stayed silent.

  His father just shook his head sadly.

  The two were quiet for a minute. Finally, Michael said, “You remember when we first got Beau?”

  “Yeah,” Patrick nodded, smiling to himself. “He was such a cute puppy. Fat little roly-poly guy.”

  “You remember me reminding you each morning to feed him and take him outside to do his business?”

  “Yeah,” Patrick groaned. “Every morning, and most evenings too after I got home from school. Right after you got done reminding me to do my homework and having me go over my plan with you for how I was going to tackle it.”

  “Right,” Michael nodded with a twinge of embarrassment.

  “You were what, eight or nine at the time? Ten?”

  “I was fourteen, Dad.”

  “Really?” Michael sounded amazed. “Gosh, I didn’t realize you were that old. I guess that’s my fault. I’ve always kind of treated you with kid gloves…younger than your years.” He paused, reflecting for a moment. “I’m sorry for that. I suppose it was because we lost your brother at birth. I’ve always overcompensated in the protection realm, not ever wanting to experience that sense of loss again.” He looked at his son with a combination of sadness and pride. “But today, you showed me something…something I haven’t seen, probably because I haven’t given you enough opportunity. You showed me the man you’ve become. I’ve been coddling you for so long, telling you what to do at every step. I haven’t given you the chance to prove just what you’re capable of. I’m proud of you. Today, well, today you showed me,” Michael nodded, wiping away a tear that had slid down his cheek.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Patrick sniffed with a slight twinge of embarrassment.

  Michael smiled at him. “I’m just sorry it took a set of circumstances like this for me to see what you’ve been capable of all along.”

  “It’s all right, Dad. I know you were just looking out for me…for all of us. But you have to understand, you can’t control the world. That’s just the way it is. Sometimes you have to step back and just let people handle their own problems.”

  “Humph,” Michael smiled and nodded. “Easier said than done. Wait until you have kids. But you’re right to a certain extent. I’ll try harder. Regardless, you did good out there today. Guess all those video games taught you something after all.”

  “When it comes to zombie killing, I’m your man,” Patrick gave him a broad grin.

  * * *

  Up on the tower’s fifth floor, having gotten his wife doped up on painkillers for the minor injuries she’d suffered in the morning’s firefight, Josh Justak was taking a private moment. He stood in one of the fifth-floor cubicles, staring out a window with a view across the river. He, like everyone else inside the tower, was having difficulty processing all that was happening around them. Things had broken down so far and so fast that he wondered whether they would ever get back to the way they were.

  Josh was worried about things. He worried about work. He worried about their home and what might be left for his family to return to. He worried about Julia, and about Justin, and the effects that all this was having on them, especially Justin. If a grown man was having difficulty processing the situation, he could only imagine what it must be like for a nine-year-old boy. Then again, maybe it’d be easier to deal with at that age. Sometimes kids were the best at rolling with the punches. His son seemed to be holding up well so far. But Justin also wasn’t being exposed to the same depth of death and carnage that Josh and the other adults were.

  All this killing was bothering Josh. Even killing the biters was disturbing. For the most part, these people – or whatever they were now – still looked human. Other than their teeth, and an overall lack of general personal hygiene, they looked much the same as the uninfected. Josh had already felt incredibly guilty about shooting the biters on their way to the tower and when they were trying to save Victoria and Patricia Hines. Today, not only had he shot biters, but uninfected people as well during their attempted infiltration of the tower.

  Suddenly there was a noise behind him.

  He spun around to find Ms. Mary standing in the cubicle’s doorway.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” she smiled at him sweetly. “I was just up here looking for some rope or extension cords.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Josh smiled back. “I was just…well, just…thinking.”

  “I’m sure,” Ms. Mary nodded sympathetically. “It’s not all the time that you have a week like we’ve had. I think it has given us all plenty to think about.”

  “That’s for sure,” Josh sighed with a grim smile.

  “I’d offer words of hope and wisdom, but I’m afraid I’m at just as much a loss regarding this whole thing as you are right now.”

  “I just keep replaying shooting those people over and over again in my head,” Josh turned to gaze back out the window. “It’s so different when you see stuff like that happen on television or in the movies. In real life, though, the sights, the sounds, the emotions, they’re all so raw, so vivid, so…terrible,” he shook his head.

  Ms. Mary walked up closer and put a kind hand on Josh’s upper back. “You know, you’re like a son to me,” she said. “So I’m going to talk to you like a mother would. You can’t beat yourself up over what has happened here. None of us asked for this. None of us wanted this. Yet it’s here, and now we have to deal with it. You didn’t ask those people to come here and try to take the tower by force. You didn’t ask for the world to be turned upside down with ravenous, flesh-craving biters lurking at every turn. But that’s the situation we’re facing. You have a son, a wife, yourself, and an extended family to protect. Those were bad dudes willing to do bad things to good people. You did what you had to do. It wasn’t fun. And yes, it’s something you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your life. But it’s something you had to do. Like many things in life, it’s not something you’re going to just be able to move on and forget. You’re life will forever be changed. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Like your first car accident, your first lost love, the first time you realized that you’d hurt someone in a way that can never be taken back…those are all things we suffer through. They’re cruel realizations, and they stay with us forever. But at the same time, they harden us. They make us stronger. I’m not saying that having to take a life, biter or otherwise, is a good thing or that it will make you a better person. Of course it won’t. But what it will do is make you stronger. Now that strength doesn’t come in the way of a positive life-changing event. It comes through a terrible one. But it’s one that will enable you to better protect your loved ones in the world in which we now live.”

  Josh turned to look at Ms. Mary, tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he smiled at her.

  “Sure, hon’,” Ms. Mary smiled back sweetly at him. Then her countenance hardened. “But don’t you ever forget this one thing when you start feeling guilty about what you’ve been forced to do here.”

  “Yeah?” Josh nodded. “What’s that?”

  “It’s always better them than you.”

  * * *

  “These noodles suck!”

  “Jack! Language!�
�� Christine frowned at her youngest, embarrassed that some of the other Blenders might overhear not only his foul language, but his complaint regarding the evening’s dinner selection. But none of the others sprinkled around the third floor, doing their best to enjoy their meager meals, seemed to have noticed.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Jack hung his head. “It’s just that they taste like plain old noodles soaked in water to me.”

  “Well, that’s pretty much what they are,” his mother laughed. “I kind of like them. They remind me of when I was in college.”

  “You can remember that long ago?” Jack gave her a devilish smirk.

  “Ha, ha,” his mother feigned amusement, giving him a deadpan stare. “Believe it or not, you used to like these noodles when you were little.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. You used to request them for lunch quite often.”

  “God, I can’t believe it,” Jack shook his head in amazement.

  “Yeah, even the fake chicken flavoring doesn’t help much,” his older brother added.

  “Mine don’t even taste like fake chicken,” Jack moaned.

  “It’s not great, but the flavoring is better than nothing,” Andrew shrugged.

  “What flavoring are you talking about? Mine are totally tasteless,” Jack shook his head.

  “You know…that powdered stuff you put in,” Andrew frowned at him through the dim lantern light that cast a bluish hue across the tower’s third floor.

  “What powdered stuff?” Jack shook his head.

  “The yellow powder. It came in the little foil packet inside the noodle package. You did put it in, didn’t you?”

  “Uh…no. I thought that was like one of those packets they put in things to help keep them fresh. I threw mine out.”

  “You dummy!” his brother snorted.

  “How was I supposed to know?” Jack retorted, growing defensive.

  “Any half-wit would know that,” Andrew taunted him. “No wonder your noodles taste like crap,” he began to laugh, rubbing in the youngster’s mistake as any good older brother would.