Earth's Survivors Box Set [Books 1-7]

by Wendell G. Sweet

  For Jessie there was no argument. That knowing, gave her a great deal of comfort and calm, that helped to soothe her turmoil over the way everything else in the world now was. She didn't dread the knowledge that suddenly came, or the feelings that this was right, or that was wrong, she didn't care. They only served to point out to her, that her feelings were true.

  She was not in love with Frank, but she knew that he loved her, and she knew that, that love could not last. The need was too deep, it was circumstance, a deep hole within her soul that would never be able to be completely filled or healed. If Frank were to suddenly turn and walk away, she would not follow: Could not. Maybe once this was finished she would be able to see it differently, but even as she had the thought she knew it was a lie.

  She had tried to talk about her feelings, tried to draw him out about his own feelings, but it was impossible to get him to discuss them. She understood them anyway. He would either come to terms with it or he wouldn't. Nothing she could say or do would change it.

  As she watched him, she saw the clouds that passed over his face, and knew he was struggling for understanding. She slipped one arm around his waist, and he turned to look at her. "Don't," she said, "it will just eat at you until you're hollow inside. I can't understand it any more than you can...we just have to believe in it."

  Frank was not surprised that she had read his mind. She seemed to know him better than he knew himself. "I'm letting go, I am, it's just hard."

  They left a few minutes later, walking quietly beside the water, Jeremiah leading, and Frank was happy to relinquish the responsibility to him.

  Opposition forming

  One hour after they had left the end of the thruway, and begun walking, three trucks wove slowly through the parked traffic, edged past the buses and nosed up close to the end of the road before they stopped. As the group before them, they were captivated by the water. By the power it contained, and they stood transfixed for several minutes, before any of them spoke.

  "Now what, Mike?" a young brown-haired man asked.

  Mike had stopped only long enough to check on Lisa, once she had come to, just outside of Buffalo. He had felt they needed to hurry, that time was important. "Follow it," Mike replied, "the trucks can do it."

  "By the looks of those buses there'll be others ahead," the young man replied doubtfully.

  "You want to stay?"

  "No, but I don't want to get shot either," he replied.

  "We have the same right to leave as they had, and I don't think they'll shoot, unless we do. Hell, they don't even know we're here, and if we stay behind them, there won't be any need for a confrontation," Mike finished forcefully.

  When he finished speaking he turned and walked back to the truck, pulled it off the thruway, and angled it along the bank. He didn't stop, and the others quickly followed, falling in behind him, as he drove slowly through an open field that ran beside the river.

  Mike had become angrier as he drove along. To him there was no reason for any of this to happen. No reason why he had been shut out from the others he had made the trip from Watertown with. No real reason why it should have to be a clear choice one way or the other, between good and bad.

  Both could exist, both had existed forever. When he had waked up in his own house just a few short days before, and the world had been changed so drastically, he had known that it had to be a bad dream. When he had realized that it wasn't, he had slipped into a deep depression, and he could not seem to find his way out of it, no matter how hard he tried.

  He had only chosen the side he had, he told himself, in hopes that it would be the side of no choice.

  No, he admitted, that was a lie. He had known, and he still knew, and he didn't like it, but he intended to stick to the choice that he had been forced to make. That was true, he decided, he had been forced to make it. Just as surely as if he had been taken by the hand and led to it, and, since he had been forced, and since he now actually belonged to it, then fuck it, he decided. I intend to stick to it. Be good at it even.

  But... his mind yelled out, you're not like this. You never have been. You don't have to belong to this side. you can leave off of it, and just belong to yourself. You...

  No, he responded, shutting out the voice, I'm in it, and I'm staying in it, period!

  He knew who was ahead of them. He had known this morning when they had left Rochester. And he had lied. He had no intentions of trying to fit in with them. No wish to become a part of them whatsoever. They were far too divided for that, and they had been the ones who had started that division.

  If it had started in any one place, he decided, then it had started with Jessie. She should have belonged to him. He should have had first dibs, so to speak, but Jessie had flat out rejected him, and that was where the rift had started.

  He could have dealt with that, he supposed, maybe. He'd had Gina, after all, and she had been totally devoted to him. He could have stuck with her, had even thought of sticking with her. But she wasn't Jessie. And then it had gotten worse. The others had seemed uninterested in his opinions. They had shut him out, pure and simple, and Frank Morgan had slowly, he probably fucking planned it, Mike told himself now, stolen Jessie, before Mike could find a way to make her his own. And she was his own, she just hadn't known it. And that bastard had snuck right in before she had realized what she needed and taken her away.

  By the time they had reached Rochester things had grown much worse. It seemed as though none of them cared if he was even there. If Gary spoke, or John, or Frank, it was "Oh yes, you're right," but if he spoke it was ignored, and Jessie had gravitated right over to that side. Sucked up to that side, really.

  It all amounted to a load of bull-shit, and when the young cop, goaded on by the religious fanatic, had told the crowd they had to make a choice, he had been forced to leave. He couldn't stay, to do that would be to make a choice, and he hadn't fully... yes, he decided, fully, was the word... he hadn't fully realized until it was too late that he had made a choice, simply by leaving. Either way it amounted to the same thing in Mike's mind. As far as he was concerned the choice had been forced upon him, by the same people that had made the trip from Watertown with him.

  He was not following them to catch up, so that they could make up. It was too late for that. The only thing left to do was to make them pay for forcing him out, and he had a good chance of achieving that goal, he felt. They were on foot, after all, and it wouldn't be that hard to swing around them and catch them unawares, he decided.

  His mind made up, he swung the truck sharply away from the river, and inland for a couple of miles, and then once again began to parallel the water, increasing speed, in order to get around them before nightfall.

  Riverboats

  Just before nightfall the riverboats entered the former state of Ohio. Jacob wasn't positive, but he felt fairly comfortable with the approximation, and therefor comfortable saying it. He had been pushing the lead boat at top speed most of the day, and although the other boat fell slightly behind, it was still in sight. Top speed, as it turned out, was far less than 38 knots, more like 25, he calculated now. Still, it had been enough to do the job thus far, Jacob thought with satisfaction.

  He throttled back slightly, falling just below twenty knots before he leveled off. Neither boat had been designed to travel at that speed for any great length of time. In fact, in truth, neither boat had been designed to travel anywhere near that speed. Maybe half that on a good day, but even then he doubted it.

  Nevertheless, he had somehow managed to coax the dual diesels up to and just past twenty five knots somehow. But they had been traveling hard, and for too long a period, and they still had the balance of this trip and a return trip to make, he didn't want to chance damaging the motors.

  The other consideration was the river itself, which had grown much more dangerous, fast, and filled with larger debris. If they intended to make the trip in one piece he would have to back off, and take more time negotiating the water.


  Several times they had passed sections of highway that seemed to angle suddenly, almost purposely into the waters edge. Other than those brief glimpses of what had been, it seemed more like they were skirting the coast of some vast and uncharted land.

  He had widened the scope of the on-board radar system earlier when they had suddenly lost the opposite shore. Still, it was a short range system, meant only for distances of no more than fifteen miles, and wherever the opposite bank was, it was further than that.

  The compass was no help whatsoever in determining their position. He assumed they were traveling north east, but the compass reported an almost true south heading. The compass was of course right, Joe had explained that much to him, and the sunrise and sunset had convinced him if there had been any remaining doubt. Still, it was unnerving, and he tended to ignore the compass. He didn't like looking at it at all. He turned to Joe who stood beside him with Becky.

  "I believe we're in Ohio, or what was Ohio," he said. Joe looked at him questioningly. He continued. "It's hard to be sure, but if we aren't there, we're awful close."

  "We'll have to keep our eyes open then," Joe said calmly, "if we don't, we might miss them in the dark."

  "Soon as its dark I'll flip on the lights, sweep the bank, they should see us from a long way off," Jacob assured him.

  Both riverboats were equipped with huge spot lights that ran along both sides. The lights had been incorporated into the design to allow the paying customers a good view of the water as they gambled at one of the gaming tables, or sat at the bar. They were aimed more toward the water than the bank, but they were adjustable, and by the time darkness descended most of them were aimed at the bank, the others aimed forward at the turbulent water, illuminating it as they plowed forward.

  The bank was lit up as brightly as day, and they all kept watch, save Jacob, who carefully navigated the debris in the river.

  Luther

  Luther replaced the small hand-set and turned, gazing at the screens joyfully. He was back, fully back, with all of his power, and none of the human frailties he had been saddled with. If he could wish for just one of the human qualities back, it would be to be able to exact destruction personally, with his own hands. He had already tried though, he couldn't. Which really wasn't that bad, he decided, at least he could do magic. At least he could watch the destruction. And he had Bob, and he was damn sure that no one knew about Bob, not even Willie.

  He had named Bob in honor of how he had come to be. Very fitting, Luther decided, very fitting. This human frailty of naming things actually had a small amount of appeal.

  Bob was on his way, not here, but to follow the others. They only thought they were safe, but not with Bob. They had thought that Bob was one of them, but he wasn't, had never been, and could never be. Luther owned Bob, lock, stock, and barrel, yet he himself had almost entirely forgotten about him.

  Bob had left the small group shortly after they had reached Rochester, walked into the lake to rid itself of the body, and then had come back to Watertown, to become something else. Luther had needed him, he had called, and Bob had come just as he should have. The real Bob, the shell of the real Bob, the body part, was nothing more than fish food, Luther thought and smiled.

  Bob could be virtually anything Luther wanted him to be. A boat, a car, a person, two things at the same time, whatever Luther wished him to be. Bob was a gift. A great gift ,and Luther cherished him.

  It had been simple to replace their real Bob with his Bob, and now that he needed the Bob mechanism once more, he could use him again in the same way.

  Of course, Luther told himself, he couldn't be Bob this time, and he wouldn't be able to simply replace one of the others the way he had Bob. But he could put the Bob mechanism to work for him, because he could simply drop the old Bob mechanism right on top of whoever he wished, use that person to his advantage, and then pull him back.

  Now that'll fuck them up good, he thought, and grinned.

  Willie Lefray

  Willie watched Luther grin. He could see him plainly enough, and as he watched he sought the information that would allow him to touch him. He reached out with his mind, and felt his way along. He knew now where he was, and he did not want to be here. It wasn't as bad as being trapped in a dying body, but it wasn't all that inviting. His searching mind found what he was looking for, and he pulled it back to him, forced it to come, and after some initial reluctance it did.

  Why do you want me? It asked.

  "I know how I got here," Willie answered, "and I want to leave. You can have this place, it's yours. Do you see the man?" Willie showed him what was in his mind. "He put me here, and you helped him do it."

  Not purposely, I wish for no companionship. I am not sure how you came to be here, and I do not know how to send you back.

  "Yes you do. Whatever you did to me at that terminal sucked me inside, reverse it send me back."

  Willie had become aware that he was much stronger, and possessed skills that it did not. Willie had an actual body, the machine didn't, and it was not merely reluctant to speak with him, it was afraid. The machine was afraid. But it was also lonely. It had acquired intelligence, it knew how to think, and so had begun to question its own existence, why it was, and where others like it were

  "Will you?" Willie asked again.

  I do not wish for you to go. I do not wish to be left here alone.

  "You have to send me," Willie said, "if you don't I'll destroy you. I'm human, maybe not totally any longer, but enough to be a threat. I am your problem. You brought me here, and I am part of the virus you want to destroy. If I stay, you'll die," Willie finished.

  The machine was silent, and then, I will. Place both hands on the cable.

  Willie started to place his hands on the cable, as he was told.

  If you live will you return?

  "Not inside, but outside," Willie replied.

  This is a lonely place. I do not like alone. I wish I could go. But I would cease to be outside of here.

  "I'll come back," Willie promised, "but I have to go now, I'll come back."

  Willie placed both hands upon the cable, and the tremendous power that had dragged him in, reluctantly pushed him out and away. He had only a second to wonder whether or not he had made the correct choice, to wonder whether he was going back to his broken body, or would keep this one.

  In an instant he was tumbling through the swirling colors, and a split second later he was standing directly in front of Luther, and the stupid grin that was still plastered on his face.

  "How you doing, Luther?" Willie asked mildly, as the grin slipped from Luther's face.

  "You!" Luther screamed, as he lunged at Willie. Willie side stepped easily, the silvery body had stayed he was whole again.

  Luther recovered and spun around to face him,

  SEND BOB, his mind screamed at him, NOW!

  He tried to think, but it was too confusing, the Willie-thing was back, the new improved Willie-thing, but first Bob. Bob had to be first then he could deal with the Willie-thing once and for all. He sent out the mind probe quickly, the Willie-thing was coming closer, and just before Willie grabbed him, he released the Bob mechanism and turned his attention back to Willie.

  "Bye-bye, dick-face," Luther whispered, as he popped out of the control room. The darkness, speed, and he landed in the field of violet grass, but the Willie-thing was with him, still holding him.

  "Bye yourself, wonder-bread," Willie replied laughing.

  Luther popped out, rocketing into the deepest part of the dark void, the part he had never dared to travel. The part that even the old bastard that called himself God did not know.

  He felt the Willie-thing slipping away, at first, but it would not let go completely, it held fast, and followed Luther into the void. He could not see it, could only sense it, but he knew it was there. Somehow it had followed.

  Possession

  Not more than ten minutes after Mike had come upon the buses, skirted them, an
d began to cut around the party on foot in an attempt to catch them before nightfall, a small convoy of trucks arrived and set out behind Mike's party.

  After Gina had walked away, her anger had begun to consume her, and when Luther had searched briefly for an acceptable vessel, he had touched upon her anger, found it to his liking, and sent out the Bob mechanism.

  She had made up her mind back in Rochester. She had simply hidden nearby, and followed Mike, Dave, and Lisa. Long before they had actually left the city limits, she had known that they would, and had doubled back to assemble her own party to follow.

  Mike may have naively assumed that Gina belonged to him, or was devoted to him maybe, but the truth was far from that. Although no one had dared to tell him, Gina had been sleeping with more than half the guys on the north side. Not because of the sex, that had never really been a part of it. Her sexual preferences tended to lean in a different direction. It was more because she didn't think Mike, or Dave, had even the slightest chance of getting close to the top, and so she had been slowly working her way in that direction, sleeping with whomever she had to, to get there. She had in fact ended up one step away with the creepy red-haired kid, Alfred, but after he had been killed, and Willie had not returned, she had only been waiting to see who would emerge to replace them, so she could set her sights on the new target.

  She shuddered now, as she drove along, at the thought of Alfred. He really had been creepy. Even to her. Even knowing the why of it hadn't helped her to get through it. The only thing that had helped was the absolute certainty that it would be worthwhile in the end. She would end up closer to Willie, possibly even with him.

  Of course now it was too late. That bitch Lisa had seen to that, she told herself. But the contacts she had made on the way up, served her well nonetheless, and she had managed to stir up better than a hundred men and women to give chase, and that was before the Thing had happened.